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trivia-yandere · 8 months

Note

request for yandere!ex-husband jk trying to prevent oc from divorcing him 💀😭 (only because they got a child together and he loves her more than anything but she just can’t take him anymore)

hello! yes we can :) this one might take a little turn but this is a yandere account so

nefarious

You knew who Jungkook was prior to having his children and marrying him, so you serving him with divorce papers wasn't going to do anything but anger him.

@momnomnom @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree

word count: 4.442

warning: yandere themes/tendancies, non-consenual touching/rape, smut, cursing, dark theme, spitting, degradation, possessiveness, fingering, dirty talking, emotional/mental manipulation, biting, restraining, crying, slapping,

“Get it out of my sight.” Jungkook tosses the paper away aggressively with a roll of his eyes. One of his men - Sung-ho, stands straighter to appear obedient. “That bitch thinks she’s going to divorce me after I made her?” Jungkook leans back into his chair with a huff. He shakes his head. “After I got her out of the slums she was living in?”

Jungkook’s eyes glance at the picture onto his desk - one of you and him on your wedding day. He grasps it and hurls it at Sung-ho who barely manages to dodge the attack. “You find that bitch and bring her back to me!” he screeches, eyes wide with rage. Sung-ho truly had no reason to be a part of Jungkook’s rage and he would make sure to apologize about it another time.

It’s been three months.

Three months since Jungkook has allowed you your little vacation away from him. And now you dare serve him with divorce papers that claimed that you wanted full custody of his daughters - you were insane. You had no job and had not worked in the last five years you and he had been married. You swiped his card without a care in the world and wasted close to millions since then - as a man and your husband, he never bat an eye.

But to think that you were willing to divorce him because - by your words - Jungkook was not the man he claimed to be was preposterous. You knew the type of man he was - the same man who you kept returning to every night to wet his cock and warm his bed. The same man who gave you lavish gifts every week and the same man who managed to not only marry you, but grace you with two of his offspring.

So what if he orchestrated a few murders every now and then? Or stole money and expensive pieces during heists? Sold a few (thousands) pounds of unthinkable drugs? You lived in a mansion, his daughters and you wanted for nothing - isn't that what a man was supposed to do? Ensure his family was alright? Why the fuck did it matter what he did as long as you and his girls were safe?

Jungkook knew you had no problem with what he did for work. Your problem was that you clearly missed him - he had to be gone the majority of the time and that left you in such a large mansion to care for the children alone. But a divorce? Wasn’t that a little excessive? No, this was nothing but a little stunt to get his attention and clearly, now you had it.

Sure Jungkook and you didn’t meet on simpler terms - normal people met at coffee shops. Maybe out grocery shopping. Hell, social media and dating sites were normal now.

No, Jungkook and you met during one of many (unbeknownst to you) bank heists he had gone on. You recall the day had been fairly slow, only a few people coming in every hour. You had been assisting an older man when the doors slammed open and a group of men entered.

The men wore all black and wore masks that covered their entire head. They pointed guns at everyone, telling them to get down. You - of course it had to be you - were escorted to the back. To think that this wasn’t even your shift initially and you picked it up from a fellow co-worker.

But again, you weren’t as normal either. Jungkook noticed how you appeared to not take anything serious. He pointed his gun at you and though he would never use it - hurting women and children was not his forte - you didn’t know this.

Jungkook knew you were different when you flirted with him as you opened the safe. If this was your way to assure your safety, then it was a weird way to go.

“Do you do this often?” you speak as Jungkook fills the bags with stacks upon stacks of cash. “I always wondered what robbing a bank would be like.”

You. You were a weird one. But Jungkook liked it.

“I saw something like this in a porno once.”

Jungkook halts in his tracks, unable to control his thoughts. He turns towards you, eye sockets - dark and nearly invisible to you, stare at your grinning figure.

“The robbers break in and find a defenseless woman…” you lean back onto the wall, tilting your head. “...take advantage of her. But deep down, we both know she wanted it.”

Jungkook was ashamed of himself for allowing himself to be consumed by you. You had all the control that day and you knew it. You enticed him so much that he was able to forget about the heist all together and that’s when he found himself inside of you - ravishing you against the very wall you leaned against.

What could Jungkook say? He was a man and you were a willing participant. You begged him for more, edged him on as he fucks you. You liked the way he was treating you - hands clenching your neck, the manhandling. You started this, all Jungkook did was follow your lead.

“I could say you raped me.”

There it was - the kicker.

You could say that indeed. You had managed to not only get Jungkook off of his game to fuck you - but to do so without a condom. Jungkook had been so excited by you that he came the hardest he has in months - right inside of you. His cum drips out of your pussy and down your thighs, you not even bothering to wipe it up.

“Say that you took advantage of me and when they do a rape kit…” you shrug.

Jungkook points his gun at your head, but both of you knew that he wasn’t going to pull any triggers. You sensed no threat when it came from this man - Jungkook is who he would soon introduce himself as.

“What do you want?” This is the first time you have heard Jungkook’s voice. He was young, you note, his cock and stamina confirming it. Possibly around the same age as you.

“Money.” you shrug your shoulders. “But I can’t take it now.” you laugh. “I guess that means I’ll have to see you again, huh?”

Jungkook swallows. He’s thankful the mask remained on his face and you didn’t see his red cheeks and shocked expression.

“How about I give you my number and you can call me later?” you offer.

“I could kill you later.” Jungkook retorts.

“You can kill me now.” you fire back. “Your friends can kill the entire bank and get away with it. Burn it down and get rid of any evidence you have left inside of me.”

Jungkook swallows.

“But you know that. You’re a smart boy.” There you were flirting with him again. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would have. Truth is, I could care less about this job and my life is quite boring. All I want is a little company. Who better than a random thief with obviously nothing else better to do?”

Jungkook found that from right there he was fucked and you were truly a vixen - an agent of chaos sent from Hell (Heaven would never allow something like you) to torment him. But he was rather intrigued for the first time in who knows how long.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked.

“Y/N.”

Jungkook lowers his gun. “Jungkook.”

You chugged the champagne down in nearly one gulp and slammed the glass onto your vanity. Your eyes dart to your reflection in the mirror and you scoff. You should have known Jungkook wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

You recall the way all hell had broke loose when Jungkook had found you. Your daughters were at school luckily and didn’t have to see their father’s demeanor change. He told you it wasn’t hard finding your hotel room and slamming the door open. You had been dozing off when he entered and Jungkook was anything but content.

“I allowed this little break to go on long enough, Y/N.” Jungkook was aggressively grabbing your belongings, hauling them onto the bed. “Pack your shit.”

“No.” you hissed.

“No?” Jungkook scoffs. “You think you’re going to divorce me and take my daughters?” Jungkook wants to laugh at how stupid you sounded. “With no job?”

“I’ve been saving money.” you retort, eyes glaring at him.

“Oh,” Jungkook snickers with a clap of his hands. “So you’ve been planning on leaving me for a while. What’s changed?”

Jungkook came closer to you. He looked manic, eyes wide and glaring into your soul.

“You even threatened to expose me if I didn’t give you a divorce.” Jungkook is livid. “Take down all of my legitimate businesses just to divorce me? You think you’ll get away with that, baby?”

Jungkook was never one to be rough with you, but he’s pissed. He pushes you onto the bed and hovers about you. “You don’t think you’ll go down with me? You tell them what I do on the side, I’ll tell them you were alongside me the entire way. We’ll both go to jail and our daughters…” Jungkook shrugs. “They’ll go to my brother.”

Your eyes widen at Jungkook’s words. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Take me down, Y/N. You’re going with me.” Jungkook pushed himself away from you. “Pack your shit and let's go home.” he hissed, not waiting for a response from you.

And now here you sat in said home. You were fresh from a long shower, having ignored Jungkook the following days and only tended to your daughter's needs.

You were feeling bitchy today, however, and decided that if Jungkook didn’t want to give you a divorce - that you were going to force him to. That, or annoy him until you felt as though you were done.

You continued to lotion your skin until it glowed, then you grabbed the perfume bottle - one of the many expensive gifts from Jungkook - and sprayed it until you knew it would linger. You take one last look in the mirror before smiling to yourself.

“We haven’t done a bank heist in years.” Jimin says with furrowed brows, bored and a little offended with the conversation. “We aren’t children anymore. Are we going broke?”

Jungkook snorts, but leans back into his chair. He pours himself the whiskey - courtesy of Yoongi - and lifts his eyes to the surrounding men that he considers brothers.

“I agree.” Taehyung nods. “Bank heists are for the lower ranks. Who’s idea was this?”

“Mine.” Jungkook slams the shot glass down onto the table and shakes his head at the powerful taste. “Don’t you guys remember the adrenaline rush?”

Namjoon snorts with a roll of his eyes. “Leave it to the baby of the group to say this.” he murmurs, a smirk forming onto his lips.

The doors of the meeting room open and heads turn towards the noise. Jungkook’s eyes land on you - and your lack of clothes all together. You adorn lingerie, black and lacy that fits you perfectly. His eyes darken when he meets your gaze.

Jimin is interested now. He leans forward and waves at you. “Y/N, hello.” he says. You were always Jimin’s favorite out of the girls Jungkook had brought around - one of the main reasons being that you actually became a wife. You didn’t remain someone he left in the shadows of his bedroom and actually gave him two adorable nieces.

And of course, you and Jungkook were one of the same. You were stubborn and took no shit and Jungkook got a taste of his own medicine. One of the countless reasons why you two bumped heads often - but it made for great make-up sex.

“Jimin.” you wave back. “I missed you. You don’t come around as much.”

Jungkook watches you with glaring eyes as you make your way closer.

“Y/N.” Jungkook’s tone is low - a warning. Not now, he wants to say. He had no time for your petty bullshit.

“You know me, I always keep busy.” Jimin continues the conversation as if you aren’t wearing the bare minimum - but Jimin didn’t see you in that way. Plus, he loved annoying Jungkook just like you did.

“That you do.” You reach the edge of the table, grasping a glass and a half empty bottle of brandy. “I see you all been drinking without me.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook continues, leaning forward. His firsts were clenching as he awaits for you to answer him.

Taehyung fights back the cackle. It was always something when it came to Jungkook and you. The fights were never to be taken seriously - it always ended the same way. You and he entangled together declaring how much you pissed the other off.

“You’ve been ignoring us lately.” Taehyung pipes in. “What did we do to deserve the cold shoulder?”

Jungkook could feel the atmosphere shift. You were mocking him - he was once told by Yoongi that he allowed you to walk all over him and he was beginning to agree. You had no respect for him - and even his brothers were going along with your foolishness.

“I’m sorry.” you sigh, pouring yourself the brandy and glancing at Jungkook. “Maybe when the divorce is finalized-”

There it was - the cherry on top. Jungkook’s chair screeches as he pushes himself away from the table and lifts himself up. He’s fast as he rounds it and lunges at you. However, you’re just as fast at hauling your drink into his face.

Jimin watches in amusement as Jungkook pulls you over his shoulder as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum. He rushes out of the room - slamming the door open with a loud bang while you’re punching at his back.

“Well then.” Namjoon claps his hands, shaking his head. He allows a few laughs to be released from his lips.

“I think this little get together is over.” Hoseok continues.

Jungkook is livid when he slams the bedroom door open just to slam it shut behind him. He shoves you off of him and onto the king sized bed. You fall on your back with a grunt, bouncing off until you catch yourself.

“You think you’re cute, huh?” Jungkook grumbles, towering over you. He would admit that he wanted to be furious with you - but your attire didn’t help him. You knew what you were doing to piss him off but you wearing his favorite perfume was doing nothing but distracting him.

“Had to do something to get your attention.” you retort, swallowing when your eyes meet the bulge in his pants.

“Ah, so that’s what it is?” Jungkook tsks. He isn't hesitant to push you back, hand wrapping around your neck. “You missed me, baby. I haven’t been as attentive to you as a husband.”

It’s his knee you feel so close to your heat, the friction causing you to groan. Jungkook was always the one to take control, never fully allowing you to unless it's what he desired.

“Why must you always take things too far?” Jungkook loosens his grip onto your neck, palm gliding down to your breast. “Am I not good to you?”

“You see me as nothing but a whore!” you hiss, turning away from him. Jungkook does notice the way your thighs quiver and your hips jut towards his knee for friction.

“A whore, no.” Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh. “My whore? Yes.” His eyes are burning into yours, offering the same venom you were giving him. “My whore to fuck, to please, to care for. You’re mine, Y/N.”

Jungkook moves his knee from your heat to replace it. His palm slaps it roughly, wet spot not going unnoticed. You shiver at the impact, ashamed that your body was giving away just what he was doing to you. You felt weak when it came to Jungkook - married for five years and together for nearly 7, he knew your body like the back of his hand.

Jungkook slaps your clothed clit more - over and over again until your juices are soaked through the lingerie, and even then he doesn’t want to stop his torment.

Jungkook’s fingers dig through the lacy fabric of your lingerie to toy with your clit. So wet - so inviting. He could never get enough of your pussy.

“You ignore me days just to show up in lingerie you knew was going to drive me crazy.” Jungkook rubs along your throbbing clit, bulge twitching at just how sopping wet you are. “Then you say it again. Threaten me with divorce.” Jungkook’s scoffing now. He doesn’t want to waste anymore time.

Jungkook enters two fingers inside of you, not bothering to give you any warning - nor be gentle in the slightest.

“You make it seem like life with me is bad.” Jungkook begins pumping his fingers inside of you. Your body gives him the reaction he always expects - clenching walls, juices flowing down his wrist and flinching form.

You want to push Jungkook away, to say that you aren’t his anything. You wanted out of this marriage from him - you were nothing but someone he had control over and you allowed it for far too long. It didn’t feel like a marriage between two lovers, instead you felt trapped in a home and made to be nothing but a body to warm his bed every night. The only gift you could truly appreciate from Jungkook was your daughters.

However, it was your body. Your body could never agree on what your mind was telling it to - you find yourself moaning lowly at his thrusting fingers. Jungkook is pissed, and when he is it tends to show in the way he pleases you. Dominant and in control.

Jungkook’s tongue licks upon your cheek. Hot, wet and slimy - all before he spits onto you. In his eyes, the ultimate sign that you were truly his.

“I fucked over enough people in my lifetime that they have given up trying to take it out on me.” Jungkook’s pumping only increases. “You and our daughters are the true targets that they know could truly get to me. I’ve done nothing but kept you and them safe.”

Your eyes roll when you feel the familiar bubbling churning in your stomach. The wet slapping of Jungkook’s fingers inside of you are echoing filthy throughout the bedroom.

“Leave.” Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you just when you were seconds away from releasing. “If you want the divorce so bad, then I’ll give it to you. Our daughters are staying with me.”

You’re panting, high coming back down to Earth. Your eyes flutter open to see Jungkook pushing himself away from you.

“I’m not leaving without them.”

“Too bad.” Jungkook shrugs. “You want the divorce. You leave and you’ll see them whenever you come here. Take whatever money you saved and find yourself somewhere to go.”

“You’re bluffing.” you find the courage to say, but your voice is so low and meek.

Jungkook hums, lips twitching as he watches you. Poor you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You never truly thought he would give you what you asked for - no matter how brattish and petty you’ve been towards him.

Jungkook was going to show you just how much you needed him and not the other way around. You were his woman regardless and no divorce was ever going to change that - not even in death would he allow you to part ways with him. He just had to show you how truly vile the world was without him.

Jungkook strokes your hair as you continue to cry in his arms, visibly shaking and trembling. Your fingers are clenching onto his shirt tight as if never wanting to let him go.

How the tables have truly turned - but all Jungkook could think was “I told you so”.

You were only gone a week and it was all it took for you to find yourself in trouble. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that revenge toward him was sought out by harming those he loved.

You sat in your hotel room when the knock sounded onto the door. You had ordered food not long ago, so when the knock sounded you wasted no time in going to open it.

Your first mistake.

Your door crashes open when you unlock it and you’re shoved onto the ground. You don’t manage to scream when you feel your screams being muffled. There's two of them, you note, both men. Their clothing was dark and loose fitted and their face had been hidden completely, you can see from a facial mask to cover their mouth and scarf on top of their heads. You couldn’t make out the eyes, yet you weren’t intended to. You were flipped onto your front quickly when one man had yanked you onto your feet, face burying into the hotel bed.

Your legs and arms thrashed around in an attempt to free yourself from the men, but you quickly realized that it was pointless - and that you were doing nothing but exhausting yourself.

Your eyes swell with tears, anxiety peaking when you realize that this might be what Jungkook was talking about - your mind telling you that there was no way you were leaving here alive.

Your arms are restrained by one man while the other pulls at your clothing. Your legs shiver when your pajama pants are ripped and you’re exposed to the cool air of the room

You feel nauseous and your head is pounding at the thought of you being defiled by these men - that you were in this situation at all.

You managed to lift your head to breathe, a choked sob releasing from your throat. Your tears blinded your vision, but you could see in the corner of your eye flesh - the man behind you ripping your clothing off. Without thinking, you sink your teeth into his skin in hopes of buying you time for an escape.

A hiss sounds through your ears and you feel a sting across your cheek. Your arms are being restrained tighter until you feel them cramp and sob.

You pleaded and begged for them to leave you alone - that you’d give them whatever money you had saved. Your pleas fell on deaf ears and you realized what they truly wanted was you.

You clenched your eyes shut when you felt yourself being stuffed by the man behind you. He wastes no time in pumping inside of you, not caring just how uncomfortable it felt for the both of you. You feel something wet, warm and slimy drip onto your folds, you conclude he had spit onto you to get any form of lubricant.

The thrusts are brutal and his hands upon you are tight and unmoving. Your sobs do not subside and you feel as though your body is betraying you. It didn’t feel good to you - you felt disgusting and utterly embarrassed; especially with the grunting sounds from the man defiling you. But your body is allowing this to happen, naturally lubricating your walls for more - your stomach churning and bubbling to reach a high you didn’t desire.

Skin slapping echoes off the wall and you had no tears left in you to cry. You wanted this torture to end, to be freed from the nightmare - but the man was cruel. You feel his hand tuck themselves beneath you and fingers twirl at your clit. You cry upon impact, shaking your head.

“She likes it.” you hear faintly - it had to be the man restraining you. His voice felt so far away even if he was right across from you.

The man behind you grunts, hips snapping into you roughly, fingers toying your clit harshly. Your pussy clenches around him unwillingly and you remain shaking your head - you didn’t want this. Your body doesn’t understand the difference between this and what it's use to.

“She’s about to cum.” the muffled voice from the man restraining you says. He holds onto your arms tighter as his partner flips you around. You come face to face with the masked person and your heart drops. You close your eyes, not wanting the man to see your reaction.

“It’s okay to like it. Whore’s like you love this, don’t you?”

The man doesn’t stop his thrusts - no, he appears to be thrusting into you even harder. Your moans of protest fill the room, but to these men, they were moans nonetheless.

Hands clamp around your neck and another around your lips. It silences you completely and you no longer have any strength in trying to protest. You felt your walls clench around the masked man until you were finally letting go around him unwillingly, but by then you were losing consciousness.

“I told you the outside world isn’t the place for you, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs into your hair. “You’re lucky I came just in time. Who knows what they were planning on doing to you.”

Your tears are now soaking Jungkook’s shirt, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to let you go - and now he would never have to.

“Come on. Let’s get you in the shower, yeah?” Jungkook says, pushing you away to look at your tear-stained face. “I love you, Y/N. Always.”

You sniffled, feeling yourself fall apart all over again. Your head crashes into his chest and your hold on him becomes tighter. “I-I’m sorry.” you apologize. You should have heed his warning - that you were safe with him. He kept you in this mansion for this long because the outside world was indeed not safe - you and your daughters could never be safe if it wasn’t with Jungkook. You’re grateful that you had not taken them with you. Who knows what the masked men would’ve done to them.

Once Jungkook manages to get you into the shower, he closes the bathroom door behind him with a sigh. He gets your pajamas ready for you when you’re out and some sleeping pills - you’d need it if you were going to get a good night's sleep.

Jungkook proceeds to lift his sleeve up and sigh at the mark on his wrist. It was beginning to sting. You managed to draw blood when you bit him - but he was grateful that the wound wasn’t too severe.

After all, Yoongi’s plan had worked. Jungkook regained his control over you - even if he had to take desperate measures and insert fear. But, he had you nonetheless - his wife.

part two (prequel) a look back into your and jungkook's fatal attraction - before the marriage, kids and the detachment coming soon...

#bangtanwriters net #bangtanwritershq #bangtan smut #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective #jungkook smut #yandere bts #bts smut #trivia-yandere #jungkook x reader #jungkook yandere #jungkook angst #jungkook husband #mafia bts #mafia jungkook #gangster jungkook #gangster bts #nefarious

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hobicakess · 4 months

Text

PLAYING DANGEROUS — (teaser)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: smut murder, blood and gore, Jack In The Box Hobi, corruption, workplace abuse, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, dubcon, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), black/plus sized coded reader, violence from every single aspect, police brutality, mircoagression towards woc, lawyer kim seokjin, maknae helping cause chaos, manipulation, drugs and addiction, unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday)

authors note: howdy hotties! this fic was heavily inspired by this post, i don't think it'll be 30 chapters but something about it just spoke to me and itched my writer brain. even though the mc is black coded anyone can read ofc!! I can't wait to write for this series. if you'd like a tag pls comment below. Reblogs are appreciated and check out my other works (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)

part one

There was a manic laughter that echoed through the new station. The giggles caused shivers and goosebumps to pass through everybody in the building simply because that laughter was familiar. The sounds were admitting from the little black box that sat on your desk. In horror you and your peers that happened to be close by watch the little black clown that popped from graffiti painted the box swing animatedly back and forth. Everyone in Korea knew this clown and what it meant.

“Mr.Kim is not seeing anyone right-” you push the secretary out your way causing her to stumble on her kitten heels and she watches you stomp your way into her bosses and yours office. The door opens wide slamming against the wall causing the booksvon the shelves to tremble, some even tumbling to the floor.

There he sat Kim Namjoon. He stared at you with his eyebrow raised. Some of the buttons of his black dress shirt were unbuttoned, the glass at his side was filled with brown liquid and even more books and papers laid out messily on his desk. .

With as much force as you could you throw the giggling box at him. The impact smacking him hard on the chest but with his build you were sure that it didn't do a thing. He held it in his hands flipping it over clicking an unknown button, shutting the gut wrenching sound shut off.

“ You told me if I took this story I'd be safe,*

Namjoon sighs as if you were speaking nonsense and not about life or death. “Let's be clear here you agreed to take this story when I only simply suggested it. Besides what makes you think Jack sent this?” He was right.

Maybe your coworkers thought I'd be funny to freak you out a little more since taking on the Clown killer case, still it was a sick joke that you didn't really find funny.

“Jack is locked in a maximum security prison surrounded by guards, and guns. He's not getting out anytime soon.”

The door swung open again and there stood his assistant. “Mr.Kim turned the news on!”

Grabbing the remote he clicks on the TV that was mounted on the wall of his office. The screen lights up showing a familiar smoking building. Your heart began to speed up in rhythm as you stare at the headline

Serial killer Jack In The Box escapes from Hangsang Maximum security prison

The screen flicks again to the dark red writings on the wall that used to be his cell.

‘See you soOn honey bunches 🃏’

And that was the last thing you saw before you tumble to the ground.

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

#bts x black reader #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #dee recs.#jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #dee reblogs.#hoseok x reader #rapline x reader #hyunglinexreader #bts fanfic #mafia bts #gangster bts #yandere yoongi #yandere bts

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter One

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 1,3k

Warnings | +18, explicit language, kidnapping, yandere, use of a sleep-inducing substance (not specific which one), mentions of prostitution

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Here is the spin-off of Happy Ending, I hope you like the first chapter! 🥰 I would like to warn you, Jimin in this story will not be kind and soft like Jungkook from Happy Ending, he is very cruel and selfish, he is a hard yandere

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Next

2020.

Three years ago.

According to Kim Seokjin's rules, the choice of a whore was something very important. The girls chosen had to meet very specific requirements, such as not having anyone who would one day - following their disappearance - look for them. Seokjin did not want any trouble, and Jimin was not about to give him any. He took a long, deep drag from his cigarette, inhaling its bitter addiction, before blowing a thick, white cloud of smoke out the car window. He stretched his gloved hands over the steering wheel, waiting for the next move. Namjoon, at his side, checked that the situation outside was okay -nothing was moving in that neighborhood, not even the shadow of a stray cat - and this created the perfect moment. "Are you ready, Jimin?" asked the older man, beginning to prepare everything needed. The dark-haired boy's eyes sparkled, he nodded confidently as he adjusted his coat. One last glance at the clock and shortly after exactly 1 a.m. they got out of the car, long strides on the asphalt counted only by the ticking of their smart shoes. Seeing them, anyone would have said they were two well-to-do men about to attend an important event, except to glance at the squalor of the houses shrouded in darkness around them. Namjoon carried a dark briefcase in one hand; Jimin walked confidently beside him before turning into a small, narrow, grim alley.

"They have to stay here, don't they?" asked Namjoon, observing the crumbling building. "That's what they wrote," confirmed Jimin, finding the lobby door already wide open; it was a low-level Motel, it wouldn't take long. They found a guy half asleep behind the counter, the two exchanged a glance of understanding before Jimin approached the man in his forties striking him dryly in the back of the head, the latter only having a chance to let out a choked scream before passing out completely. "Thanks, man," sneered the boy, beginning to look up the names he was interested in in the register, along with the room number and corresponding key. He nodded to Namjoon when he had everything and they went up to the indicated floor. Jimin's alert and shrewd eyes immediately found what he was looking for, he pointed the door to his taller friend and together they opened it, they found the lights off, but they were trained to see even in the dark so they went straight to the two beds in the middle of the old and stale room, it was clear that such a Motel could not have all the comforts and amenities with what little they paid, there were not even cameras, it was an unsuitable and unsafe place for young girls like those asleep in those beds, Jimin thought with a grin.

Namjoon set the briefcase down on the floor, retrieving ready-made syringes from it, handed one to his friend and headed for one of the beds, Jimin chose for himself the one near the window and as the filtering neon sign light increasingly put the young girl's sleeping face on display, he inspected the young girl's face carefully, drinking in the sight of her softly parted lips and the warm breath rhythmically lowering and raising her chest. He lowered himself slightly to her neck, cautiously inhaling the light scent of roses emanating from her inviting skin. Namjoon, meanwhile, had already finished gently injecting the pinkish liquid into the other girl's arm, the substance would send her to sleep for a few hours, and Jimin should have hurried to do the same, too bad that he was merely gazing longingly at the woman, completely rapt. Namjoon noticed this and with a shade of reproach in his voice, called him to his senses. "Jimin, get a move on! Don't let your cock harden just now," he scolded him in a low, irritated tone. The young man puffed slightly, before uncorking the loaded syringe, unfortunately not accounting for the girl's light sleep, who squinted her eyelids as if disturbed by the presence looming over her with the eyes of a hawk.

She thought she was dreaming, but the figure of Jimin took a distinct and material form in her field of vision, which at first glance left her speechless.

Then a shrill scream left her throat, she tried to pull away, but Jimin was immediately on her, trying to block her, Namjoon caught up with an expletive clenched between his teeth and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, pushing her against the bed, the latter only in time to kick like a horse, managing to hit Jimin at jaw level, which pissed him off in no small measure, without any kindness or regard he stuck the needle of the syringe on her exposed thigh thanks to her pajama shorts, it penetrated the skin like butter and the girl stiffened screaming in pain, she fainted from shock without needing to wait for the injection to take effect. Namjoon let go a sigh before staring furiously at Jimin, who was touching the affected area with glacial eyes fixed on his victim. "What the fuck has gotten into you! Did you have to give her time to wake up?" he hissed, his silver hair glowing with the neon light outside, and Jimin gritted his teeth at the saintly appearance he was displaying at that moment. "I didn't think she'd wake up so easily, okay?" he blurted out, before pulling the girl's body to himself without any care, Namjoon shook his head before retrieving the other one more gently, the one had been good the whole time and he hoped the other Motel patrons hadn't heard the screams.

They should have moved in complete silence inconspicuously, but Jimin did not know what silence was, evidently. They went out with a placid step, from the other doors they heard absolutely nothing. Perhaps they were not occupied rooms, or most likely no one wanted to risk their skin to go and see what had happened to the girls, it was still a bad neighborhood that one. Jimin held the unconscious body rigidly in his arms, full of lividity. When he had watched her sleep he had called her a tender little angel in his head, well he was wrong, and very wrong, too. The bitch squealed like a goose and he would have loved to stretch her neck, which Namjoon wouldn't let him do anyway, they served without the slightest bruise to the Dark Moon. They arrived at the car without further trouble, even the road had remained deserted, and loaded the bodies into the back seats. "Let's get out of here before something else happens," muttered the friend, Jimin huffed annoyed, getting back into the driver's seat. "You're making it too tragic, no one heard us," he said, earning an angry look. "Because it was a sleazy Motel, you make all that noise in a normal house and see if no one hears you."

Jimin waved a hand, as if to say that he didn't give a shit about Namjoon's worries, bit his own lower lip piercing as he drove taking semi unfamiliar roads to leave no trace of himself. It would not happen again, after all. Yes, it hardly ever happened that he got a hard cock in the middle of a kidnapping on behalf of the Dark Moon, that had been new for him as well. He cast a glance at the other girl as well, but she said absolutely nothing to him, his body seemed to be attracted to the bitch who had kicked him, this made him even more irritated. "Should we take them to the warehouse?" The warehouse was an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, they used it to hide their equipment, but also often to torture and kill, or as in this case, keep the goods cool just long enough to make decisions about them, it was convenient and practical. "Yes, Jungkook said that Seokjin will lose time at the Dark Moon, there have been clients giving the girls trouble and he is cutting some names off the list," Namjoon replied, reading their maknae's messages. Jimin nodded, taking the last descent of that country road that would lead them straight to the warehouse.

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crazy4myself · 22 days

Text

No Harm List | Pt. 14

Word count: 5.5k ish

Warnings: explicit language, violence, sexual themes

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

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A/N: Hiii lovelies I know it had been literal years since I’ve properly updated. To avoid confusion you may want to go back a few chapters to refresh; I recommend part 12. Also some of the next few chapters may look familiar bc I re-wrote them. But I think you will like this version much better :)

“Why did you avoid me after we kissed?” you asked again, your voice clear. You did not make yourself elaborate. You didn’t tell him how you’ve felt lost and helpless these weeks. And if you could take it back, you would. But if you were honest with yourself, no part of you really wanted to.

You just looked at him expectantly and watched him squirm in the silence. “Because.. I’m a coward,” he offered, looking down at his hands.

Your silence was loud in the air between you, pressuring him to keep talking, “I was scared because BTS has already put you in so much danger already. I mean, we're not even dating, and you were basically held hostage.”

“Don’t pin this on me.” you cut him off. You knew it was a valid point, but it wasn’t his only reason for not talking to you. “Whether or not I endanger myself to date you is a decision for us to make. Why did you avoid me?” you asked again.

“I was scared. I was scared it was an impulsive or pity kiss after being shot. I was scared you didn’t have feelings for me, so I avoided the rejection.”

You quirked a brow in disbelief. Oh, sure, he was scared of you rejecting him. “It’s true!” he insisted.

“And I don’t even know if I could date you,” he added, and you felt a part of your chest ache at the confession.

“I don’t know if I'm capable of dating with my lifestyle. It's not only a safety hazard, but I don't know if I’m capable of giving you any more of myself than I already have. I think about you all the time. And I love spending time with you. But our friendship, where we were before that kiss, it’s all I know how to give people.”

He turned to you, eyes searching your face for any signs of hurt or betrayal, but he couldn’t read your expression as you quietly whispered, “And what if I told you that’s enough?”

Jungkook parted his lips but was at a loss for words.

“I’ve never really dated,” you explained, “And I don't think I know how to. And school is so stressful, and the program is only going to get more complex. I’m not sure I have time to learn and figure out the ‘right’ way to do it.” You paused as you saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you realized how contradictory you were sounding.

“I like you, Jungkook. I like what we have, and I liked kissing you. But before now, I didn’t think I could date you. Not because of the whole ‘gang’ thing. But because I think-” your voice cracked, “I think something in me broke when I lost Daewon. I never,” You paused to swallow.

“I will never let anyone in like that again because it hurt so bad when I lost her. And we weren’t even together romantically. So, imagine how bad it would hurt to lose a partner?” a hot tear rolled down your cheek, and Jungkook reached up to wipe it. You leaned into the comforting heat of his touch as his callused thumb rubbed soothingly on your cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is we both clearly have boundaries and walls. And we both suck at keeping the other out of some of them. So what if we loved eachother in whatever fucked up way we know how and at least reap the benefits of having shitty partners?” You offered with a hesitant smile.

“The benefits being?” Jungkook asked with a quirked brow.

Mischief glinted in your eyes as you smiled at him before lifting onto your knees and crawling towards him on the couch. Jungkook knew this conversation wasn’t over. He knew he should stop you and assure you that nothing about you was broken for being cautious about who you loved. He wanted to tell you that you were good and kind and would make an incredible partner in any capacity, and he was worried he wouldn’t deserve what you were willing to give. But his mind went blank as you inched so close that he could feel your breath against his face as you murmured, “I can think of a few.”

You moved confidently but still grazed your lips against his in the softest touch as if asking for permission.

Jungkook leaned forward, capturing you in the kiss and pulling you into his lap. It was just as hungry as last time, as if he had been waiting to taste you again. Jungkook felt his body come alight at the joy of feeling you pressed against him. His hands rubbed eagerly against your thighs before wandering up your sides, your arms, and your shoulders as he took all of you in.

The touch wasn’t as much for pleasure as it was a claiming. But still, you skin tingled in response. A trail of goosebumps rose in the wake of every brush of his callused hands.

Finally, you broke the kiss to catch your breath. Pressing your forehead against his, you both smiled like idiots as you took eachother in.

Jungkook leaned in to kiss you again, softer this time. As if the raw desperation passed, he would savor every second now that he had you. His hands were firmly on your waist, and his thumbs rubbed in a soothing motion, lower, and lower as they crept under the hem of your shirt.

You felt core core turning molten and couldn’t reflect back on the last time you had been with someone in this way.

Jungkook’s mouth was hot against your neck, trailing down from behind your ear lower and lower, looking for the spot that made-

You gasped and arched against him in pleasure, your chest pressing harder against his.

There it was, his mind thought in primal satisfaction, as he bit down right above your pulse point, making you writhe against him further. He had been replaying the sounds you made during your last kiss in his head an embarrassing number of nights he was alone. He wanted to map your body right now and learn every spot that made you sigh and moan for him. His hands had migrated further up your ribcage, your skin flushing hot beneath his touch as his thumbs swiped just below your bra.

He was about to reach around to unclasp it when a cough from the kitchen cut his ministrations short. You both turned in shock to see Yoongi placing an expresso pod in the coffee machine.

“J-Hope is in the garage you might wanna,” he waved his hand in the air in a vague gesture to separate. “Or don’t,” he said with a shrug, “I think his reaction would be funny.”

You were scrambling off Jungkook's lap and shoving a pillow between the two of you. Your lips were swollen and bruised from the kiss. You straightened your shirt, which was more rumpled from your earlier fight than anything, and placed a pillow between the two of you as if to protect your chastity with seconds to spare before the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps echoed from the garage. You locked eyes with him as soon as he made it in the entryway. You could feel the anger radiating off of him as he entered the room.

“What happened?” He demanded.

Jungkook calmed his breathing, grabbing the pillow barrier to instead place on his lap as he reminded himself that the bakery was attacked. Hoseok had no clue that Jungkook was just kissing his best friend and that he was not in danger.

“Hobi!” you were up in an instant, ignoring his foul temper as you wrapped your arms around him.

He caught your embrace effortlessly, his eyes tracking you and then noting Jungkook and his new emotional support pillow as he squeezed you tightly before letting you step back.

“Are you okay?” you both ask in unison before cracking a smile.

“I’m fine I just had to lay low. What happened at the bakery tonight?” Hoseok pushed.

Your smile faltered for a moment. “There was an ambush, they didn’t touch me. I can’t say the same for them, but they’ll be fine.” you started.

Hoseok’s brow rose at your implication, “You took out four of the Black Tips best men?” he asked. He didn’t sound disbelieving, he sounded… impressed and maybe a little proud.

“Only two, and I wouldn’t call them the best. Why are you here if you’re in hiding?” you asked, ignoring the way his approval warmed you chest. “And why were you in hiding? And when did you dye your hair?” you pushed. Reaching up to touch the murky black locks. It was obviously box-dyed and barely covered the bright red it was days earlier.

Hoseok smiled tight-lipped before moving to the couch, “I’ll tell my story if you promise to tell yours when Jin and RM get back.” He offered.

You refrained from pointing out that the reason you were at the Den in the first place was to do exactly that. You were too eager to get some answers from Hoseok. Who quickly filled you in on the details of the fake assassination attempt that ended in a not-so-fake assassination charge. That led to Hoseok and Yoongi hiding out in some shitty safe house an hour outside the city, living off Raman noodles and re-dying their hair to more subtle colors.

By time Hoseok had finished, the other members of BTS began filing in. Hoseok told you they had only been called out of hiding so Yoongi could manage the video footage of the bakery and nearby security cameras for the police department and insurance claims. Jin wanted to edit out any evidence of a gang-related interrogation, or else their relationship was going to get a lot more complicated with the local authorities.

But apparently, there was no need. Yoongi was fuming when he returned from his office, informing the others that while the security cameras were able to stream live footage to their system, the memory had been wiped from BTS’s computers.

He still had to cover their tracks of abducting the Black Tips on any city cameras. But otherwise the gang was relying on you as the sole witness to the night's events.

Well, you and the four Black Tip members who attacked you. The men were currently stored away in a safe house under the greenhouse on the Den’s property. But with the excessive exposure to Jimin’s smoke, there was a chance their memories would be unreliable, if not nonexistent.

Jimin couldn’t even estimate a wake time for the men due to the level of gas they inhaled. It could be days before anyone could get answers out of them.

When Jin and Jimin finally returned from filing their reports to the authorities, everyone settled in the living room to hear your account. You recalled the night's events as detailed as possible, telling them how the man in the suit tried to buy your loyalty from BTS and describing him to the best of your ability.

To your relief, they all listened quietly while you spoke, and when you were done, it was V who helped you fill in any gaps you may have missed by prompting you with questions. His presence was steady and soothing, and you realized he was giving you a glimpse of the spider at work. The others didn’t dare interrupt him or ask their own questions, they trusted him to gather every drop of information.

What did the man in the suite look like?

Did he ask about BTS’s current movements?

What ‘sins against the city’ did he want to hold BTS responsible for?

What information did he want you to report back?

You didn’t have any answers to half of those questions, confessing you spent most of your time stalling and trying to get the man to reveal why he was bribing you of all people. You were convinced at the time that the alarm had alerted BTS of your situation and that they would arrive at any minute. The thought of the man getting away didn’t seem like a possibility.

And a small part of you, despite promising yourself you owed BTS nothing outside of your contract, couldn’t help but feel like this oversight was a failure on your part. Somehow, you let the gang down.

Jin clarified that the alarm had been disabled along with the cameras hours prior to the break-in. It was by luck and V’s intel that they managed to get to you when you did.

“And isn't that a big fucking problem?” Hoseok growled, unable to stay quiet any longer.

He stepped forward, glaring in Jin and Jimin’s direction, “Do you realize how irresponsible it was to schedule her on a closing shift alone.” He accused.

“Hobi, it’s fine I worked late all the time at my last job,” you started trying to diffuse the situation.

Everyone in the room refrained from pointing out how well that had gone for you.

“No, it’s not fine. This isn’t like your other job. What if they tried to get information from her at that moment, and she had nothing to give? What if V didn’t call in time? There are a thousand different ways this could have gone wrong. She is not a member of this gang,” Hoseok snapped.

You flinched slightly at his tone.

“She doesn’t have the tattoo. Debt and favors aside, she should not be this deep in BTS’s affairs. She should not be alone in our businesses. That bakery is a cover for Jimin’s lab and loitering drug money. Why the hell would you think it okay to leave her alone there?” He continued.

Jin’s face was like a stone as Hoseok lectured him, not wanting his own emotions to invalidate his brothers. “You're right.” Jin agreed, and you could see the full weight of tonight's events take a toll on him as his shoulders sagged and he turned to you with guilt in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry I put you in danger, Ella. We will never let it happen again.” Jin promised his voice was soft but earnest.

“It sure as hell won’t because she’s not working for you anymore.” Hoseok snapped.

“That's not your call to make,” you argued.

Hoseok turned to you, frustration evident on his face, “Do not fight me on this. You know tonight was too dangerous.”

“She was the dangerous part of tonight. She was fine.” Jungkook pushed, standing next to you.

“Stay out of this!” You and Hoseok snapped in unison.

Jungkook’s face puckered like he tasted something sour, but he sat back on the couch's arm.

“Tonight, you were lucky that man wanted you alive. He could change his mind at any point why can’t you see the danger in that.”

“I'm bound by contract to keep working off my debt,” you argued as you turned to RM for backup.

RM crossed his arms, taking in you and Hoseok as he contemplated his response.

“Blood debt runs deeper than civil law,” Hoseok said before his leader could voice his opinion. And a tense stillness fell across the room.

“Have you forgotten she’s on the No Harm List? That we are supposed to be willing to die for her.” he pushed. The whole gang's demeanor changed at the reminder Jimin downcast his gaze as his shame sank into his gut.

“I don’t want that,” you pushed, horrified, “Take me off the list I don’t - I did not ever want that.”

“Daewon, please, why won’t you let me protect you!”

The room fell quiet as his sister's name echoed through the room.

Your chest ached as understanding settled in, “Oh, Hobie,” you sighed.

“We’ll take a vote,” RM ordered, unable to stand another minute of this fighting. “We have damage control to take care of, and everyone is tired. We meet first thing, and we will decide as a team what we should do about Ella.”

Hoseok’s smile was mirthless at his boss’s half-ass attempt to placate him. “See you bright in early,” he said with a salute before turning for the garage.

You stared after your best friend, hesitant to follow him. “And do I get a say in that decision?” you asked RM softly.

RM sighed, “Your opinion will be considered when we vote. You will have full control over how we go about re-negotiating your contract if it comes to it.”

Assuming that was the best you could get, you sighed, eyes flicking over to Yoongi who flanked RM’s left, his arms crossed and his expression stoic.

“I guess I’ll go catch up with Hobi,” you offered hesitantly, not knowing what to do. Yoongi met your eyes but said nothing. Taking Yoongi’s silence as his answer, you squeezed Jungkook’s hand in a silent farewell before you followed Hoseok to the garage.

Hoseok kept his eyes forward as you approached his vehicle. He was sitting in his Porsche the engine purred a soft accompaniment to the rhythmic thump of his music.

“Can I catch a ride?” you asked, already settling into the passenger's seat and buckling before he could give an empty “Sure.” in response.

You didn’t ask where he was taking you as he sped out of the Den’s parking lot and into the streets of the seventh ward. His options were limited if he was still a wanted man, and you figured you would end up at your apartment by the end of the night.

“We need to pick up another box of hair dye. Whoever did yours did a shitty job,” you said, reaching to run your fingers through his hair.

The unique thing about your friendship with Hoseok was you two were forced to mourn together when you were getting close. Meaning you both had a talent for ignoring the elephant in the room and settling into a normal life where you talked around the big issue.

It wasn’t always healthy to ignore your problems like that. But for you and Hoseok, it worked. After big changes like this, you both had a habit of turning off your feelings for a while and giving each other space and time to process instead of forcing each other to talk about an issue before you were ready.

It’s what you did with Daewon’s death. It’s what he did for you when you first found out about BTS.

So tonight, you could make space for him. The two of you could go through the rest of the night without talking about the bakery or BTS at all if he didn’t want to.

You glanced out the window, realizing what street he was turning on.

“We’re going to see Dae?” you asked, surprised as he pulled to the side of the road outside the city’s botanical garden. The gardens were closed, which was no surprise considering it was close to one in the morning. But that was never a problem in the past.

“We didn’t visit her on her anniversary this year,” Hoseok said simply.

You both visited separately, though you wouldn’t point it out. At the time of Dae’s anniversary, you were still giving him the silent treatment for lying to you about BTS. You had visited Daewon’s grave on your own and saw that it had already been cleaned, and her favorite flowers decorated the small plot, meaning Hoseok had already beat you there.

At the time, you had felt guilty for the relief you felt in your chest. Visiting her that day came with the fear that you and Hoseok would cross paths before you were ready to face him. And you think Dae would have been disappointed to see the two of you arguing on top of her grave.

Because of that, neither of you had gone through with your tradition of robbing the botanical gardens.

Your freshmen year of college was filled with many adventures since moving to Alcor was still a novel experience, but it also came with many nights of being homesick. While Gautier was technically a territory of Kros, the country Alcor resides in, the cultures were very different. And the climate was shockingly different in the cold and wet port city where the smell of sea salt was on the breeze, you missed the clean and fresh scent of blooming heathers and rosemary in the spring, and the taste of sweet figs right off the tree in the summer time.

One night, when you were suffering from a rather nasty bout of homesickness, Daewon took you to the botanical gardens and taught you how to break in at night. At the back of the property, a mighty magnolia tree bloomed outside the garden's fence. It was almost too easy to scale the tree’s sturdy branches and dismount on the other side of the garden. The fences were lined with countless bamboo trellises fortified with different vine plants, making for an easy escape anywhere inside the garden.

You remember how your heart fluttered the first night the two of you broke in. You had to make an effort to hold in your nervous giggle as you scaled the magnolia tree and landed on the mossy lawn of the prehistoric trail, which was lined with ZZ plants and ferns with curling fronds. Sneaking your way through the trail and across the lawn of irsis leads you past the desert exhibit and to a greenhouse that honored the terrain of the eastern colony you called home.

The air was warm but much dryer thanks to the special ventilation system, but despite the heavy humidity missing from the air, the small shrub like plants thrived in the rocky soil, filling the air with the fragrant and aromatic scent of rosemary, lavender, and heathers.

You remember how a knot built in the back of your throat as you ran your fingers over the woody rosemary bush, taking in the earthy pine-like scent. Dae sat with you and listened to you go on about your childhood home for hours.

The giant rosemary bushes that were planted around your house were a staple in your kitchen and bathroom growing up. Your mother was always placing sprigs in her hair products, using it as her own perfume.

You told her the story of how your dad always tried to recreate your mother's french toast recipe on your birthday, but he always forgot to sweeten it so it just tasted like egg bread.

You told her stories of how your father courted your stepmom and how you watched them fall in love again, and build a new family together. One you didn’t fit into as snuggly, not for lack of love in your home, but because you were so much older than your siblings and you had your own dreams and life you were ready to find in Alcor.

Dae held you when you cried, then jokingly played the national anthem to Gautier on her cell phone. You guys laughed and danced around the greenhouse as she struggled to keep up with the lyrics.

The memory brought warmth to your chest years later, just like all the other memories with Daewon. But beneath the warmth, a sharp ache still lingered. Daewon wasn’t perfect by any means; she had a temper like her brother, and she could brood like no other.

But she was good. Daewon was good and fun and she loved so fiercely and encouraged and celebrated her friends. She was the type of person to buy you an ice cream after you failed a test and a cake if you passed.

She was the first person to encourage and support you in your adult life, even in scandalous situations like bringing you a spare set of clothes to the frat house so your walk of shame was a bit less shameful the next morning.

“God I miss her,” you sighed as you approached the magnolia.

“Me too. Every day.” Hoseok agreed quietly as he watched you scale the branches.

He was a worry wort and always made you go first in case you slipped.

“Did Daeown ever know? About BTS?” you asked curiously as both climbed higher in the magnolia tree.

“She knew some of it, like selling the spare car parts, and she could obviously guess some more once I got the tattoo, but she didn’t know everything.” He offered as you reached the branch just past the tall fence that protected the gardens.

‘She didn’t know I shot people,’ she could almost hear Hoseok say.

You ducked low as you approached the branch that led into the garden. Grabbing onto the limb above you to balance yourself, you carefully made your way forward as the branch dipped under your weight.

“Careful,” Hoseok warned.

“Whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes as you let go of the limb stabling you, tightening your core as you jumped from the tree. It was less than a 5-foot drop, but you kept your knees bent as you landed, feeling the impact reverberate back into your legs. You hissed as the pins and needles feeling swarmed the balls of your feet.

“You gotta tuck and roll,” Hosek laughed as you wattled out of his way.

You watched as he lowered himself on the branch the muscles in his body tensed before he sprung forward, extending his legs with his knees still slightly bent.

You sometimes forget the athleticism Hoseok hones in his body. You take for granted how smooth and precise his movements are. It was something you still couldn't quite replicate when you trained with Jungkook. But as you admired your friend, you wondered if he was responsible for training Jungkook to master his own smooth agility.

As his feet touched the ground, he pushed his momentum forward, curling into a ball and rolling across the grass.

“Ow fuck!” he exclaimed as he backrolled over a raised root of a nearby tree.

“And that's why I don’t tuck and roll,” you teased, walking towards him, the ach in your legs nearly forgotten.

You wandered out of the exhibit and towards the iris lawn. Dae’s favorite flowers were blue irises. She used to always pick a few of the flowers any time they visited the garden and keep a vase of them in the dorm room.

“You know they’re bulbed plants one day, we can go to the store and get our own,” Hoseok suggested.

“It’s not the same she says they smell better when they’re picked from the garden here,” you insisted.

“It’s not like she’ll be smelling these,” Hoseok grumbled under his breath but obliged when you held out your hand for his pocket knife.

The theft was quick and efficient. You cut loose five of the flower's long stems and returned back to the fence. Taking care that the flowers were unharmed as you shimmied up one of the trellises.

You were both back in the car within 15 minutes and driving down the road to her grave. The visit was a quiet one. Not tearful like in years past, and for a moment as the two of you kneeled and placed the flowers against the tombstone, you didn’t know if either of you were going to speak at all.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave the city,” Hoseok asked quietly.

You looked at him, startled, “You know my dream is to be a travel doctor,” you replied.

“Is that still your dream?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, your eyes searching his face for any indication of where he was going with this.

“Y/N, you were determined once. Focused. You lived and sacrificed for that dream and would never jeopardize it. And lately, you’ve-” You closed your eyes as you caught on to his intentions.

“Continued to sacrifice for it,” you interrupted him, “everything I’ve done, the debt I have isn’t so I can play gangster. It’s so I can finish school. The moment I graduate and the moment I pay off my debt, I’m leaving the city.” You assured.

“You could leave now,” he urged.

“Take a residency somewhere I know your grades are good enough for that accelerated program.”

“I can’t run out on my debt. They will find me.” You hissed.

“They won’t. Jungkook will pull RM off your trail, and they can’t send me after you. I would go with you. You’re the only family I have.” Hoseok pushed his voice urgent, “Things are getting bad. There’s a turf war brewing, and the Black Tips aren’t working alone. I don’t think that man who came after you tonight is from the west side. If power players from the East are involved, this whole city will go to shit. This isn’t a petty fight; people will die. The inner circle and whoever is affiliated with them will have a target on their back.”

“What about Yoongi?” You asked.

Your question was double-sided. You knew about Hoseok’s feelings for him and his unwillingness to move on from him over the years. Hoseok was always privet with the gang side of his life, but even before you knew of BTS, you knew of Yoongi and the web of feelings he carried with him. And you also knew of the second's ability to track down and find anyone. If RM wanted either of you dead, Yoongi would find you in a heartbeat and probably had the skill set to dispose of you himself, too.

Hoseok's eyes downcast “He would let us go.”

“You’re expecting a lot of loyalty from someone you plan to betray.” You pushed.

“You’re putting up a hard fight for someone who claims they don’t have a real reason to stay,” he pressed back.

You looked away from your best friend. The man who treated you like his own sister from the beginning. Who was ready to give everything up and run to make sure you were safe.

Why weren’t you willing to give up your fraction of this world in return?

“Perhaps things are more complicated than I give myself credit for. I kissed Jungkook, and I can’t just leave until I figure that out.” You admitted embarrassed. You braced yourself for the teasing or the anger. But Hoseok's face was calm as he responded his eyes ernst and urgent.

“I fucked Yoongi,” Hoseok countered. “If I don’t leave now. I never will.”

A/N: I haven’t updated in so long I totally forgot how tags and formatting work on this post. Hopefully it finds the intended audience… let me know if you read and enjoyed it!!! Xoxox

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 4 months

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RUN: Against Time is live TOMORROW!

~TEASER

January/14/2024

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bangtangalicious · 7 months

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street rat (m), ideation, jjk

for the thrill of your touch i will shamefully lust as you tell me we're nothing but trouble

summary: greedy. selfish. hustler. jungkook's notorious reputation as an effective yet untrustworthy street dealer follows him like a shadow through your world. maybe you like that though.

genre: 18+ toxic & intense romance, smut, action, strangers-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers, gang themes

characters: drugdealer jungkook x good girl reader, with cameos from gangster!taehyung, rockstar!namjoon and maybe someone else :)

a/n: i want to write death valley spinoffs so, let me know what you all wanna see with this!!!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #mafia jungkook #jk x you #jk x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jungkook x reader smut

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borathae · 2 years

Text

↳ Index [Day 20 - Gunplay]

Pairing: Gangster!Jungkook x f.Reader

Kinks: Dom!Jungkook, sub!Reader, arranged marriage, gunplay, oral to a gun, big cock, praise, body worship, nippleplay, strength kink, size kink, tattoos & piercings, thigh riding, spanking, dirty talk, sexy possessiveness, multiple orgasms (f. & m.receiving), creampies, squirting, overstimulation, rough & passionate sex in front a window, she rides him, the trope of “this is the first night where the sex feels real and not like a marital duty”

Wordcount: 10.4k

a/n: i feel...feelings. too many of them. most of carnal nature. some of deeply emotional nature. this story did too many things to me, holy fuck i need air. besties, Kinktober hits different because we can be totally unhinged together and i am loving the adventure ❤

You fucked up. You are aware that you did. Five men are dead, slaughtered because you trusted the wrong person. Seven barely escaped death and the rest were either hurt or pissed.

Taehyung’s with you, cleaning the cut on your cheek a broken bottle left. You think someone threw it at you, but you blacked out before you could see who did it.

“Hurts”, you groan.

“I know, sorry. It must be done”, Taehyung answers you, replacing the blood soaked cotton swap with a new one. Soaked in disinfectant, he presses it against your wound, eliciting another hiss of discomfort from you.

“So what are we gonna tell him?” Jimin asks the question the rest of the group was too afraid to ask.

“The truth, what else?” Namjoon says dryly, fingers busy with stopping the bleeding on his arm by pressing a cloth to it.

“Yeah and risk her getting shot? Nah thanks”, Seokjin says, shaking his head.

“People died”, Namjoon hisses, eyes lowered in anger, “Yoongi’s still out and guess shit about how Hoseok’s surgery is going.”

“She didn’t shoot them did she?”

“She could have very well pulled the fucking trigger.”

You avoid looking at Namjoon, knowing very well that he would probably kill you with just a look if he could. You understand him. You’re angry at yourself as well. You weren’t careful enough and let the details of the meeting meet the wrong people, ending in the cops busting you in the middle of the deal.

“Where is she?!” Jungkook’s loud voice cuts through the air like thunder.

Your stomach twists in fear. He’s back.

“Oh fuck”, Seokjin gasps, looking at the opened door and regretting not having closed it.

“Where is she? Where’s my fucking wife?” Jungkook screams outside.

You exchange a panicky look with the others.

"Is she in there?" Jungkook spits, voice sounding as if he is just by the door.

“Sir wait, they aren’t done-“, one of your guards stumbles into the room and falls forcefully.

“What the hell?” Jimin exclaims, staring at the groaning guard.

Seconds later the reason for his fall appears in the door frame.

Jungkook. Black hair messy, eyes dangerously dark in anger and tattooed knuckles bruised from the punch he just threw.

“Don't fucking talk to me like that, cunt”, he spits at the guard.

“I-I'm sorry Sir”, the guard stutters, holding his aching cheek.

“Tzt.”

Jungkook rolls his shoulders and lifts his head, eyes running over the room and landing on you.

They lower in anger, head tilting to the side in this distinct almost hunter like manner Jungkook always gets when he is in the mood for carnage.

“You wanna fucking tell me what happened?” he hisses, voice calm but you know better than to trust it. You know what Jungkook does with traitors and you are currently the main suspect for the leak.

“I didn’t know Yeonseok would leak that shit”, you say.

“Don't give me that bullshit, you knew exactly what kinda fuck he is”, Jungkook spits.

“I didn’t. Listen. I really didn’t. If I had, I’d have shot him.”

“Bullshit. You’re working for them. Ugly fucking undercover pig”, Jungkook growls, reaching for the side. Hidden behind his suit jacket and strapped into a belt, his gun is waiting to be used.

“Hey Kook”, Jimin’s on his feet and in front of Jungkook instantly, “I believe her. She didn’t know Yeonseok was the snitch. We thought Lee would leak the shit, but he got shot. Nobody suspected Yeonseok, especially not ___.”

"I don't believe this", Jungkook growls, taking a step closer with his dark eyes never leaving your face. Jimin stops him, strong hand on Jungkook’s heaving up and down chest and muscles tensing under the turtleneck.

“Think”, he insists, “why would she work for them? The fucking pigs killed her brother, the last thing she'd do is kiss their fucking boots.”

Jungkook fights Jimin, lips curled back in an angry huff of air.

“Let alone betray you. She’s your wife. She chose you, didn’t she?” Jimin adds, finally managing to change Jungkook’s gaze from you to him.

His hand slips from his gun, he stops fighting Jimin. Now standing still.

“She didn’t choose shit”, Jungkook spits and pushes himself away from Jimin. He walks to the door in heavy steps, “clean this fucking shit up once you’re done”, he hisses.

“Where are you going?” Seokjin asks.

Jungkook looks over his shoulder.

“Making sure Yoongi’s got someone with him if he decides to actually bite the dust”, he spits, eyes landing on you for one last deadly look, “fucking shitshow”, he whispers and turns to leave.

The front door slams closed seconds later.

“Well fuck”, you press out, sinking in on yourself, “thanks man.”

“Don’t mention it”, Jimin answers you, currently helping the guard back up on his feet.

The air is tense in the room. You all know very well that this wasn’t over yet.

The penthouse is empty when Jungkook returns. Safe for the guards out front, everyone else left.

You didn’t. Obviously, because you live here even if the downstairs was poisoned by work. Upstairs maybe a little bit of home was present. Stuff like memoirs or sweet pictures of you and your husband weren’t present, but at least the lingering stench of blood, drugs and metal wasn’t present upstairs.

You don’t know if you loved your husband. You are pretty sure he doesn’t love you. Your marriage is a business contract between two wealthy crime families, making sure their money gets secured. You accepted, Jungkook accepted and that was the story of your love. Sex was okay because he's obsessed with perfection and that goes for sex too. Passion or tenderness obviously wasn’t present during those moments, because Jungkook sees sex as much of a task as his other things. Torture, fighting, murder, bringing in money with little loss. Those things have to be calculated and follow a certain pattern to be perfect in his eyes. The same goes for sex. Intimacy wasn’t present either, safe for the moments where he walked around naked in front of you or told you to show off a set of lingerie for him, but that was only because you were married and he saw those acts as duty. Romance was present once. You remember it clearly. It was a Sunday. The 16th of July two years ago. The sun was warm and the organisation was quiet for once. Jungkook took you out for ice cream that day and told you that he thought the dress you wore was pretty. You saw him smile that day and thought that he almost looked innocent when he smiled. You never saw him smile again since that day.

You don’t know if you loved Jungkook and you know he didn’t love you. But that was okay because you didn’t expect him to.

You were sleeping when Jungkook came home. You wake when he has already showered. He is sitting by the foot end of your bed, legs spread and arms resting on his thighs so he can make his lower arms tangle between them. He is shirtless, giving view to his tattooed torso. His lower body is covered by a towel, his hair is tied into a messy bun. He is overlooking the city. The Empire, which one day will be his' with you as the ruling Queen by his side. That is if he doesn’t decide to murder you tonight.

“Husband?” you try quietly, hoping for a moment that he won’t hear you.

He inhales loudly, straightening his back.

“Go back to sleep”, he says coldly, eyes never once breaking away from the city. It looks so small from your bedroom window, but this is only an illusion made by just how high up you are.

You often walk in on him jerking off right by the windows and with his hand in a punishing rhythm. Jungkook fucking loves standing by the windows and getting off to how small and tiny everything looks. The king standing on his throne and looking down at his suspects. He fucking cums like crazy to that thought.

“How is Yoongi?” you ask him.

“Alive for now.”

“That's such a relief to hear”, you say honestly.

“Mhm.”

“And the others? How did the surgeries go?”

“Good. They’ll all live.”

“That’s amazing, I’m so relieved right now.”

“Mhm.”

You sit up to crawl to him. You snake your arms around him, making him tense up and lift his head proudly. You aren’t wearing much more than panties and a bra. Not very comfortable, but you thought that maybe if you dressed yourself in Jungkook’s favourite set tonight, he won’t kill you the instant he laid eyes on you. It seems to be working, given how you are still breathing.

The little clothing results in your naked stomach coming into contact with his naked back. His skin feels cold in comparison to yours.

“Tae and Jin captured Yeonseok. He tried to take one of the boats to flee to Jeju. Did you hear?” you tell him.

“Yes.”

“What will happen to him now?”

“Why? So you can save him? Well, too fucking late. I already skinned the bastard. Cut off his cock too, made him eat it cause it’s what lying fucking pigs deserve”, he says almost nonchalantly.

You feel your stomach twist in disgust. You mask the gag you wanted to do by inhaling deeply, dancing your hands to Jungkook’s sculpted pecs. You don’t really want to touch him right now, this is solely to fight for your life.

“That's good to hear”, you whisper, kissing his shoulder, “I would have done far worse to him.”

“Tzt yeah sure”, Jungkook scoffs, moving away from you.

You study his face as best as you can see it from this position. His brows are creasing, eyes as dark as the night and lips turned downwards into a frown. You rest your chin on his shoulder, hands coming to rest on his pecs. His heart is racing like crazy in his chest, letting you know that despite his calm exterior he was in utter distress inside. You rub slow circles on his skin, making him react by flexing his pecs because his nipples are sensitive and the touch is affecting him.

“I'm loyal to you, husband”, you say, trailing your kisses to his neck, “please believe me.”

Jungkook rolls his head to the side, exposing his neck to your lips. You kiss his skin. He tastes like hints of his cologne. Smells like it too.

He keeps on staring out at the city, lips pursed in anger and eyes cold.

“And I’m loyal to the organisation. It’s all that matters to me”, you say, taking his pierced ear between your teeth to nibble on it softly.

Jungkook closes his eyes, relaxing his brows. You don’t see it happening as you are too busy licking and kissing his piercings. You know that he’s into that shit.

“I'd suffocate you”, he rasps.

You try not to falter in your kisses, hoping that he can’t feel your heart speeding up in fear.

“I'd want you struggling and fighting for life. I'd do it with my bare hands to feel your last breath leave you.”

Only now do you notice the gun tangling from his fingers. Did he bring this here to shoot you? Are you currently kissing your murderer's neck? Is that why his heart is racing? Because deep down he is nervous to kill his wife, but he knows that he has to?

“That's how I'd kill you if you ever betrayed me”, he says, eyes flitting to the distorted version of your bodies in the window’s reflection. Him towering over the city and you holding him close. The image could be beautiful if the air wasn’t so tense and you cared so very little for each other. He locks eyes with you.

You gulp, barely controlling your breathing. This is it. This is the moment you’re looking into death's eyes.

“How's your cheek?” Jungkook however asks, flustering you.

“It's… it won’t scar”, you say, stumbling back when Jungkook turns.

He pulls you back by grabbing you by your chin. He moves your head from left to right, dark eyes glued to the now bandaged cut on your cheek.

“Did you see who did that to you?” he asks.

“No, it happened way too fast.”

“Mhm”, Jungkook brushes his thumb over the band aid, “thank fuck it missed your eye.”

“Uh..yes…I guess…”

One must know that stuff like genuine worry for each other, affection and concern were nonexistent in your marriage. It is important to know so one can understand why you were so entirely flabbergasted by your husband’s concern right now. Jungkook never cares. Did seeing Yoongi almost die tonight affect him so much that he is becoming affectionate now? Or is this his way of saying goodbye before he finally kills you?

Jungkook pulls you closer, making you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut in fear. His strong hand lands on the back of your head.

His kisses your bandaged cheek.

Your breath trembles as it leaves you.

Your eyes open quickly, locking with his’. They are still dark, racing between yours and looking almost hypnotising from the close proximity you and him find yourselves in.

Jungkook moves in and kisses your lips as he keeps on staring at you, fingers tightening more and more on the back of your head.

You sigh shakily, squeezing your eyes shut because you can’t bear to look into his eyes when his lips claim yours so angrily. His teeth bite your lower lip, his tongue licks over it, his lips suck harshly. You reach for him for support, nails scratching down his arm as softly as possible.

The kiss breaks, strings of saliva keep you connected but they break just seconds later, now covering your skin. You peel your eyes open, meeting his unfaltering gaze. Your hands slip from him again.

He can see the uncertainty and confusion on your face, but he won’t call you out on it.

“You and your loyalty are mine, don’t forget that”, he rasps.

“I won’t”, you whisper, “and I never did”, you add just in case it wasn’t clear to him yet.

Jungkook slips his hand from your head and turns back to the city. He is playing with his gun mindlessly, eyes racing over the millions and millions of lights down below. You are sitting, daring not to move let alone breathe. The air shouldn’t be so tense anymore, but it is. Jungkook cared for your cheek, kissed you and told you his version of an I Love You. You don’t know what is happening. This isn’t your husband.

You let your eyes flit to the reflection of your bodies, coming to the scary revelation that Jungkook wasn’t staring at the city, but at you. He twists the gun in his fingers, making the safety click once.

You gulp. Now you understand. This was his goodbye. His last attempt to be affectionate before he shoots you.

“I’m sorry”, you whisper shakily, eyes burning in tears.

Jungkook acknowledges you with a cock of his right brow, outlining the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He lowers his head, eyes locking on the gun. His thumb runs over the cold metal, his jaw clenches.

“Stand up”, he finally says.

You follow with shaking knees, biting down on your tongue in order not to start sobbing.

Jungkook grips your wrist and tugs you right in front of him. You try not to squeak, let alone breathe too quickly.

He lets go of your wrist once he is happy with your position, placing both his hands on your waist. The coldness of the gun feels unbearable on your skin, digging into your flesh and leaving deep shivers behind.

He dances his hands up your torso. His thumbs are on your tummy, tracing the pearl netting which is spanning itself over your upper stomach.

You don’t dare to look down, eyes glued to the mirror behind your bed. There was another mirror right above your bed because Jungkook is obsessed with watching himself when you fuck. He also fucking loves it that you have to stare at yourself when he’s got you on your back, folded in half and with his huge cock drilling into your puffy pussy.

Jungkook leans in, connecting his lips with your tummy.

You can’t stop yourself from gasping or flinching for that matter. You bite down on your lower lip to stop more noises from slipping out of you, shifting your gaze even further up the wall just so you can’t accidentally look down at him.

His tongue darts out just to lick a thick stripe up your stomach until the position naturally breaks the contact.

Your skin prickles where he licked it, the air of the room feels ice cold while your body is burning up. All of this isn’t your husband. All of this swerves so far out of the patterns he made up for sex and you don’t know what that means.

“You’re so fucking sexy”, he rasps, lifting his head and realising that you aren’t looking at all. He furrows his brows, clenching his jaw. Why aren’t you looking? You are supposed to look when he’s worshipping you.

“Get on your fucking knees”, he orders in a growl.

You follow instantly, folding your hands on your lap and looking at the ground. Jungkook tilts your head up with the gun under your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him even if that was the last thing you currently want to do.

“Why are you avoiding eye contact?” he asks, pupils dilated in anger.

“I-I…I’m sorry”, you stutter, widening your eyes for good measures.

Jungkook studies your features and your body. You carry fear in your eyes, your thumbs fumble with each other secretly, your thighs are pressed together in nervousness. Jungkook looks at the gun under your chin and understands.

He pulls it away and with a press, releases the magazine. It falls into his palm. He twirls it between his fingers and shows it to you.

Your eyes widen in shock.

It’s empty.

Jungkook presses the button to let you know the barrel was empty too.

Your eyes flit up to Jungkook’s face, racing restlessly in an attempt to make sense of all of this.

Jungkook slams the magazine back into the gun and takes your face between his fingers. He tugs you closer, leaning in to meet you in the middle.

“This isn’t your fucking punishment, get that outta your head”, he hisses.

“O-okay”, you stutter, feeling your heart skip a few beats from having him so close. His breath smells like minty toothpaste.

“You think I’m gonna shoot you? Like a coldblooded murderer?” he squeezes your cheeks, “I told you how I’d kill you, didn’t I? You think I’d not already have done it if I wanted you dead? That I’d let you sleep while I was taking a shower? No”, he moves closer, brushing his lips against yours to whispers darkly, “if I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. Wife.”

“Oh”, you press out, shoulders sagging in relief and eyes spilling tears. He forgave you. Jungkook forgave you. You aren’t going to die tonight. The gun is solely a prop in some sick play of power and sex.

Jungkook wipes your tears away with a rough thumb, taking your cheeks back between his fingers afterwards.

“Don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you. You know that I don’t do that”, he whispers softly.

"I know", you get out, sniffling like crazy to get rid of the desire to sob.

"Good", he says and with one push to your lips feeds you his thumb.

You suck on it instantly, having done so a thousand times before. That shit is familiar to you. Having to suck off Jungkook’s fingers is a routine to you.

You were so ready to do it for minutes, but Jungkook already pulls out after nothing but five eager sucks, leaving you to chase him with a trembling sigh.

He straightens up and pulls the gun back into your vision. He holds it tightly, positioning it right between his thighs in a way so that the barrel would face the ceiling.

“Suck it like you’d suck my cock”, he orders.

You hesitate, looking up at him with confused eyes.

“Did I stutter? Suck my fucking gun”, he hisses, placing his hand at the back of your head to push you closer.

You eye the cold gun, gulping nervously. You know that it was empty and safe, but the thought still scares you. Sucking his cock is easy because his shape is familiar to your lips and tongue. But the gun is new. He never asked you to do that before. Of course he didn’t, because it wasn’t part of the pattern on normal nights.

Jungkook tightens his grip on your head, giving you an impatient push. There is no going back. You scoot closer, placing your hands over his’ and lowering your lips to the gun. You kiss the tip first like you would do his cock, feeling his fingers twitch on the back of your head. You can’t see it but Jungkook is staring down at you without ever blinking, frowning but with his chest heaving up and down quickly.

You close your lips around the barrel and sink down slowly.

Jungkook exhales loudly and opens his thighs just slightly, acting as if you finally took in his cock. Even his fingers tighten on your head.

The gun tastes weird. Metal and grease. You are pretty sure that you shouldn’t have those things in your mouth, but you won’t say anything. You slip off of it for a catch of breath, getting pushed back down instantly.

“Don’t stop”, he orders in a rasp, moving your head up and down slowly, “fucking suck it like you mean it.”

You moan for him, squeezing his hand. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing is ragged. You don’t suck on it like you would his cock, merely letting the barrel glide over your tongue. It hits the back of your throat with each movement, tickling out your gag reflex more and more.

“There we go, so fucking good”, Jungkook rasps above you, staring down at you with blown-out pupils. Your lips look so good wrapped around the black metal. They move so nicely as you fuck your face with it.

The barrel is a lot smaller than Jungkook’s cock. Both in length and in girth. It is an easy task to have it in your mouth, even if the square shape and hardness is something to get used to. Other than that however, the size in itself isn’t all that bad. Sometimes when you suck Jungkook’s cock, your jaw hurts afterwards because of his size, so the gun is a welcome change. Even if the taste needs some getting used to.

It hits the back of your throat and finally triggers your gag reflex. You gag loudly, slipping off of it to prevent the worst case scenario. You wheeze and gasp for air, swallowing heavily.

“You sound so sweet”, Jungkook lulls, caressing the back of your head, “lick it for me.”

You place your tongue at the base of the gun, brushing against his fingers accidentally. Jungkook takes a deep breath in reaction, moving his hips in a slow squirm. Just once and then he is in control again.

You moan as you finally drag your tongue up the barrel, licking it as if you were licking the big vein on the underside of his cock. It feels so different than when you do it to him. Hard metal, unmoving unlike his vein which is always pulsating and throbbing when you lick it. You miss those sensations, craving them against the tip of your tongue.

“There we go, that’s it”, Jungkook whispers, voice shaky in arousal, “lick the tip, go on.”

You follow, swirling your tongue over the tip and moaning oh so hungrily.

“That’s it, fuck”, Jungkook tenses his thighs, relaxing them in a tremble, “such a good girl, fuck.”

Whimpering, you press the flat of the tongue right against the tip, grinding it back and forth quickly. Jungkook fucking loves when you do that to his tip, reacting with a sharp intake of breath now that he watches you do it to the gun.

“Fucking amazing, that’s fucking amazing”, he praises, voice raspy and just slightly lulled, “feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?”

You mewl, nodding your head. And you mean it. Maybe it’s Jungkook’s praise and the utter pleasure in his voice, but licking his gun is starting to genuinely feel fucking good. You dig the tip of your tongue into the bullet hole, eliciting a deep growl from Jungkook.

“That’s it”, he whispers breathily, hand slipping from the back of your head to cup your cheek, “fuck, that’s it, doll.”

The nickname sends heat to your pussy. Honestly moaning, you take the gun back inside, letting it sink into your mouth until you can feel it at the back of your throat. It is a lot more difficult to get it inside than Jungkook’s cock. Not because of its size but because of its unmoving character. Jungkook’s cock bends, no matter how hard and swollen you’ve gotten him, there is still a slight bend to it, which makes it easier to get it inside. But the gun doesn’t bend, forcing you to bend yourself instead to get it inside.

You keen, dropping tears onto your cheeks. A needy shake courses through you, your left hand slips from his hand just to grab his thigh instead. His skin is hot as fire, his muscles are so hard under your palm. You squeeze desperately, whimpering around the gun. Somehow holding his strong thigh is helping you stay grounded. Maybe it even soothes you.

“Such a good girl”, Jungkook praises, slipping his hand back to your head. He grabs a bundle of your hair and twists softly, “Is that tasty? Mhm? Do you like how my gun tastes?”

You break away from it just to gaze up at him, almost forgetting what you wanted to say to him in the process because of his cock. You look at it for just a second too long. Completely hard and swollen, it’s standing against his toned stomach, having escaped the towel. It is even leaking, tip looking so wet and sticky. Holy fuck. Your pussy clenches around nothing. Holy fuck, he’s so hard.

“I…” you clear your throat, breaking your eyes away from his cock to look into his eyes, “…I love it”, you whisper shakily.

Jungkook drags his thumb over your cheek to wipe the tears away, eyes lowering in arousal.

“Yeah? You love it? More than my cock?”

You gulp.

“Tell me.”

“N-no your c-cock’s better”, you stutter, hoping that this is what he wanted to hear.

Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, lips curling into a cocky smirk.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say”, he rasps, squeezing your chin softly, “take off my towel.”

You scramble to your knees and reach for the knot. Jungkook rests back on his hands, having the drool covered gun resting beside him for now. He watches you with a quickly moving chest as you undo the knot and pull the towel open. Not that a lot of new stuff gets exposed because of it, give how his cock’s already been freed before that. Only his neatly trimmed pubes and heavy balls see the new light of the day, hypnotising you.

You may not love Jungkook and, hell, Jungkook may not love you, but the sexual attraction you both feel for each other was sometimes unbearable. Jungkook’s a sexy, attractive man, even if he sometimes scares you. He never hurt you in your years together, so you have no idea why you are scared of him, but you are. You are scared and so goddamn, achingly attracted to his body.

Especially tonight, because Jungkook is disregarding every single pattern you established over the years and that shit turns you on like nothing else.

“There we go, good girl”, Jungkook praises, straightening back up. He cups your cheek and makes you look up at him.

You swallow heavily, hands falling to his thighs just so you can hold something of him.

He smiles.

Jungkook fucking smiles.

For the second time ever since you’ve became his’, Jungkook is showing you his smile.

And it’s flustering you so much that your breath actually hitches in your throat.

“You’re such a pretty girl”, he whispers, tracing your lips.

You exhale shakily, feeling your head pound from those overwhelming feelings in your chest. Jungkook is smiling. He called you pretty. Jungkook called you pretty and is smiling. Holy fuck.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, studying your frown and glassy eyes.

“Nothing”, you barely get the word out.

“Mhm”, he hums, smile slowly fading into a relaxed expression. He lets go of your cheek just so he can dance his hand down to your throat to hold it as gently as possible, “I want you to take off your bra.”

You reach behind yourself without hesitation. Jungkook keeps your eyes on him not through force but through sheer attraction. Your heart’s racing like crazy.

The clasp opens easily. You tug the straps from your shoulders and let the piece of clothing fall onto your lap.

He looks down at your newly exposed chest, slipping his hand from your throat for it.

“Hm”, he hums, nodding his head with a frown on his face. It’s the same frown he gets when he likes food.

Jungkook places his hands over your tits, making you arch your back just to chase him. His palm is slightly callused from fighting, but his touch is tender. He gathers them and squeezes strongly. The sensation crawls down your body and makes your pussy so goddamn wet in your panties.

“Pretty”, he rasps, moving his fingers over your tits until he can pinch your nipples, tugging at them until you whimper. He smirks lazily, massaging them as his eyes flit back to your face just to take in how your lips part in a gasp. “you’re the prettiest, baby.”

“Kook”, you whimper, hands sliding to his inner thighs and eyes burning in new tears. It feels so good to be called baby by him. He only did that during your ice cream date and ever since that day, all you ached for was for another repetition of the nickname.

Jungkook dries your tears with the back of his hand, eyes softening slightly.

“Why do you keep crying, mhm?” he asks.

“I, I don’t know”, you stutter, sniffling like crazy.

"Do you not want me to play with you, mhm?"

"Please don’t stop", you breathe, meaning it honestly.

“Mhm”, he hums and gives your cheek a soft pinch, “stand up for me”, he orders.

You struggle so much. He’s got you so weak that you don’t want to get up. So he helps you, placing his strong hands on your waist to tug you to your feet. He stands up as well once you’re safely on your feet, holding your waist and stepping closer. Like this, he is towering over you, making you lift your head just so you can keep looking into his eyes. He doesn’t feel scary right now. Just strong and like he’d protect you from the world. The feeling is so foreign to you that you want to scream, but you can’t bring yourself to produce any other sound than soft whimpers and shaky intakes of air.

“Now you wanna keep looking at me, don’t you?” he speaks softly, eyes racing between yours.

You nod your head.

“Touch me, baby”, Jungkook whispers.

You place your hands on his chest, eliciting a shaky exhale from him.

He steps closer, hands sliding down to your hips to pull you into him. His head tilts down, nose brushing against yours.

“There we go”, he breathes, “do you like how I feel?”

“Yes”, you sigh, meaning it honestly.

“Baby”, Jungkook whispers, cupping your cheeks to pull you into a deep kiss. His head is tilted to the side, his shoulders are lifted to his ears, his lips move slowly yet desperately against yours.

You stare at him in shock. He’s got his eyes closed. Jungkook’s got his fucking eyes closed as he kisses you. The kiss is real to him. He’s actually feeling it.

“Fuck”, you press out in a shaky sigh, hooking your arms behind his neck to pull him close. Your eyes fall closed and your tongue finally chases his’ in a slow yet needy rhythm.

Jungkook moans, slipping his left hand from your cheek just so he can snake his arm around your waist and press you against his chest. Naked tits against naked pecs. Hot skin against hot skin. Cock against your stomach and hearts beating quickly in both your chests. All of this so far away from the patterns, that they aren’t even on the same map anymore. And you fucking love it, dragging your nails over his undercut until you touch his bun. With sloppy tugs, you open it. His hair falls down in messy waves, getting gathered and twisted by you.

Jungkook keens almost needily, lifting you easily. He isn’t just working out to be ready for whatever fight his life throws at him, but also to lift you whenever you want him to. He never did it before, but all he’s thinking about is lifting you when you’re both naked and lost in a kiss. Your weight makes the muscles in his arms shift and tense, his abs flex right against your pussy. Jungkook loves how you whimper into the kiss and how small you seem to make yourself just to fit into his arms easier.

Your legs snake around his waist, squeezing it tightly. You hate that you’re still wearing your panties. All you want to feel is his skin against your pussy. You’re so fucking into him right now. You need him like crazy.

The truth was that Jungkook is so goddamn vulnerable tonight. He is shaken to the core from everything that happened today, aching for affection he is very well aware you probably have to work very hard for to gather for him. He’s aware that you don’t love him, even if he can’t imagine his life without you. And today he had to. He had to imagine how life would be without you, because he almost lost you to a misunderstanding. He was so angry at you at first and so goddamn hurt. Not you, he thought, not his fucking wife. His heart broke when he heard that you were the one leaking the details, because that meant he had to kill you. Then it ached in confusion when he had to decide whether or not he could still trust you, all while he had to be there for Yoongi. The man, he considers as his own fucking brother. He came home, exhausted from crying over Yoongi way too much and skinning the real traitor, expecting you to have fled, only to see you sleeping in your shared bed and if Jungkook hadn’t been so dirty from murdering Yeonseok, he’d have climbed right into bed with you just to hug you against his chest. Your refusal to flee, even if that meant that he could potentially kill you, was all the proof he needed to know that your loyalty for him never faltered.

And now he’s a mess. Going from anger, heartbreak, confusion, worry and relief left him so goddamn needy for affection. He’d never tell you, because he possibly couldn’t share his feelings with you, but he fucking aches for you like nothing else. Even if it’s just pretend from your side.

He walks to the big windows, pressing you right against them even if that makes you gasp from the cold. The kiss still doesn’t break however, only deepening as your limbs seem to pull him closer and closer. Jungkook presses himself against you, moaning right with you as this makes your pussy press against his cock. He rocks his hips slowly, forcing his cock to glide between his stomach and your clothed pussy.

“Fuck”, he croaks, lips faltering in the kiss.

You chase him, moaning his name.

“I need you”, he gets out, cockhead grinding against your clothed clit and making your fingers scratch down his undercut.

“Need you too”, you answer him.

There is a chaise lounge to your right. Jungkook takes the necessary step and sits down on it, right on its edge. Your body hits his lap, hips chasing his muscular thigh in a needy roll.

He lets the kiss break for the sake of looking at you. His strong hands are on your thighs, your knees are on each side of his hips. His eyes are half-lidded and heavy in arousal.

“Lift your hips”, he orders and you follow.

Jungkook hooks his fingers in your panties and twists the fabric. In one rough tug, he’s got them ripped from your body, leaving behind burning skin and a racing heart.

“Those were your favourites”, you whisper.

“Doesn’t matter”, he dismisses you, throwing the ruined panties on the ground. He grips your hips and pulls them back onto his lap. He rocks them back and forth slowly, making your wet pussy grind right against his thigh.

Your breath trembles, fingers twisting in his long hair. His skin is so soft and hot, his muscles are so defined.

“You’re already dripping”, he says, voice deep in arousal. He wanted to get you wet on his cock and now has to live with the knowledge that you’re already wet for him. He’s so fucking into you, it’s insane.

“Yeah”, you sigh, chasing his thigh desperately.

“Fuck baby”, he presses out, gripping you by the back of your neck, “get on my fucking cock. Now”, he growls, pupils dilated to the point where his eyes appear black.

You follow without hesitation, lifting your soaked pussy from his thigh just to shimmy up his lap and align yourself with his cock. You grind your hole against his tip twice and then Jungkook squeezes your hips in warning, eyes lowering dangerously.

You let yourself drop.

“Oh”, you croak, head falling against his shoulder and body trembling. He’s so fucking big. It’s stretching you out so much.

“There we go. Take that cock”, he rasps, rubbing the small of your back soothingly.

Inch by inch he’s gliding into you, making you feel fuller and fuller. He barely manages to bottom out, eliciting the shakiest moan from you. He growls against your skin, hands slipping to your ass to squeeze it angrily, “that’s it. Your pussy’s so fucking good. Move.”

You circle your hips slowly, whimpering into him and trying to close your legs even if that is impossible in the position and only ends with you squeezing his hips. You feel like bursting.

“Jun-Jungkook”, you get out.

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You’re, you’re so big.”

“I know”, he tilts your hips differently to make the breach a little easier, “do you like it, mhm?”

“Yes”, you mewl, meaning it honestly. He may be a lot and he may make you feel like you’re being ripped in half, but that shit feels so good. It feels amazing on normal days and feels like paradise tonight. You don’t want to stop, you want to keep rutting against him until your pussy is finally stretched enough and stops burning.

“Yeah? You do?” Jungkook forces your head to lift with his hand on your neck. He moves his hips, basking in the widening of your eyes and the clenching of your wet pussy.

“K-Kook”, you squeak, brows furrowing in pleasure.

“There we go, relax. I know I’m big, but you’re my girl, aren’t you?”

You nod your head, gasping for air when his cock fills you up completely again. And he leaves you again, making you chase his girth instantly.

“Yeah you are”, Jungkook slips his thumb to your throat, keeping it resting there without applying pressure, “and my girl’s made for my cock, isn’t she?”

You nod your head, feeling new arousal seep out of you. Jungkook never called you his girl before. It feels so good now that he does.

“Tell me baby”, he orders.

“I’m made for your cock”, you whisper, pussy throbbing around his cock.

“And why is that?” he stresses, feeling you tremble on his lap and loving the shit out of it.

“Because I’m your girl”, you croak, falling around his neck a moment later to kiss him.

Jungkook gasps, hand slipping from your throat to bury itself in your hair at the back of your head. He moans, tensing his thighs desperately when you finally begin to actually move on his cock. Quick movements up and down and skilled circles whenever he’s balls deep inside you. It sounds wet and nasty, filling both of you with the desire to keep going and fucking going.

Tongues tangle, hands grope desperately, hips rut against each other. Breathing is hard when you’re kissing so much and the sex feels so fucking good. Hot and addicting. So without any kind of patterns and rules. So honest and fucking real. There is no order in your movements, just honest desperation to get off on each other as quickly and as intensely as possible. And you don’t want this to stop. Please don’t ever let this stop.

Jungkook doesn’t want it to stop either. Breaking patterns and ignoring rules. The thought normally gives him the fucking ick. But he doesn’t care right now. He doesn’t want patterns or rules, he wants you. All of you. The unfiltered, honest you. The sex tonight is his apology. He hopes you can see that it is. His apology for ever doubting you, his apology for yelling at you in front of the others and his apology for being so goddamn needy for you. He hopes you can feel how sorry he is and how goddamn into it he is.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. His shaky breath intermingles with your trembling one, his thumbs brush over your temples, his eyes are closed.

And because his eyes are closed, he doesn’t see that you have yours closed as well. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t feel so fucking sorry for being needy. Because you are fucking needy for him too. Being married is only fun when you’re desired, otherwise it leaves one with a constant ache in one’s chest. And Jungkook’s spilling over in desire tonight, soaking you with it just as much. It feels so good to fuck honestly and like you actually want to fuck.

“I’m so fucking into this”, Jungkook rasps, voice trembling because he bottoms out right this moment, feeling your pussy clench in reaction.

“Me too”, you answer him shakily, lifting yourself just to drop back down on him.

“Fuck”, he croaks and pulls you back into a deep kiss. You squeak as you weren’t ready for it, fingers squeezing his shoulders tightly and hips trembling on his lap. He is kissing you so desperately, moaning so much. It affects you so much. Jungkook isn’t vocal in bed. The penthouse is never truly empty. Guards, one of the others, some of the other goons. The penthouse is never truly empty and Jungkook decided for himself that being quiet was part of sex. Nobody needs to know how into it he is, especially not all the idiots downstairs. So to have him moan and growl and gasp so freely tonight, feels like sex in itself.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, moving just far away enough that he can look at your face. He dances his thumb over your cheek, letting his left hand slide to your hip just so he can squeeze it.

“Is this real for you?” he asks, eyes droopy and barely staying open.

You look at them and how they are filled with so much pleasure, pain and hopefulness. You nod your head honestly.

“Yeah, it’s real”, you whisper.

“Fuck”, Jungkook presses out, voice trembling and eyes squeezing shut.

He wraps his arm around you, pressing your face into the crook of his neck with his hand on the back of your head. His lips are on your shoulder, his nose is inhaling desperately. His legs broaden their stance so he can finally meet your movements. He thrusts into you deep and strong, forcing your body to tremble involuntarily.

“Kook”, you whimper, tensing up in surprise.

“I’ve got you, I’ve fucking got you”, he whispers against your skin, “fucking hold onto me, baby.”

You drag your nails up his back and neck, burying your fingers in his hair as deeply as possible. Like this your chests are almost melting with each other and his cock is so deep inside you, stomach grinding against your clit.

“That’s it”, he rasps, “that’s fucking it. Your husband’s got it. Gonna fuck you so slow, so fucking deep. Fuck”, he moans, body twitching as pleasure shoots through him. His hips thrust into you so much rougher afterwards, making your toes curl from how good it feels, “I fucking got it, got you so good. So fucking good.”

He had his eyes on his city once, thinking to himself how pretty those lights look. But not anymore. His face buried in the crook of your shoulder and his eyes are squeezed shut so tightly that his brain is coming up with its own sparkles of light. You feel like heaven around him. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he could swear that you feel so much wetter than you do on other nights.

Jungkook always makes sure that you are wet. Because getting you wet gives him an ego boost. But tonight it feels so real. So honest. It’s covering his cock and is running down his balls. He’s never experienced that sensation before, cradling you in his strong arms because of it.

You are also twitching and writhing like you never did before. They feel so honest and intense, making his own body shudder in reaction.

“I’m really close”, you whimper against his neck.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah”, you say and sob into him loudly, “Jungkook, please don’t stop, I’m so close”, you wail.

“Fuck baby”, Jungkook hugs you tighter, hips faltering just once before they find their rhythm again. Slow and deep, making your wet walls convulse around him rhythmically and for your smaller body to tremble against his bigger, oh so much stronger, frame. “Stop crying”, he soothes you in shaky whispers, “I’ve got you baby, don’t cry.”

“I, I can’t. It, it feels so good”, you stutter and hiccup a loud sob, “it feels so good”, you wail loudly and convulse on top of him, “oh god it’s happening”, you squeak out, hugging him with an almost scared desperation.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. Your husband’s right here, baby. Let go”, he soothes you, throwing you over the edge so intensely that for a second, you feel like passing out.

“Ah-“, you get out and then your voice cuts off and you begin shaking without having any sort of control over it.

Jungkook holds you close, rocking into you carefully because you are so tight that all other movements are impossible. He swears he’s never gotten you that good before.

Jungkook always makes sure that both of you have at least one orgasm during sex, because that is what perfection means to him. Well, at least until now it’s what it meant. Jungkook realises that this right now is so much more perfect than any well-calculated orgasm ever was. This right here feels real and makes his eyes tear up and once your aggressive tensing stops, his hips can’t seem to want to stop. He is chasing your tight pussy, putting rough desperation into his movements. The kind which makes his huge thighs slap against your ass each time he’s deep inside you and the kind which shakes you on top of him.

“Please”, you squeak out, voice so much higher than it normally is, “w-what are you doing?” you wail, “please oh god!”

Jungkook growls, pinning you against him and forcing your fleeing hips to take the fuck that way.

“Take me, I want you to take me”, he spits, feeling his heart pound in his brain.

“It’s too much”, you wail all while pulling him closer, “please, please, please.”

“Just say the word and I’ll stop”, he grunts.

You shake your head vigorously in denial, sobbing into his shoulder and soiling his skin with your tears. Why would you want to say it? Why would you want to stop this when for the first time ever, Jungkook fucks you with honesty? Why would you want to stop the kind of sensations he never gave you before?

“I knew it. I fucking knew it”, Jungkook spits and pulls your hips into him just to land a harsh spank on your ass. You scream his name, scratching his back bloody as you try to grasp him for support.

Jungkook growls, head pounding from the pain.

“Fucking do that again, I liked it”, he orders, connecting his big hand with your ass. The heavy rings he is wearing add another layer of burn to the spank, leaving you to convulse on his cock.

“Please”, you sob, scratching his back open. The black tiger on his right shoulder blade cries red tears from your scratches, his skin burns like crazy.

“You’re so fucking good”, he growls, forcing your back to arch with a push of his arm. Like this your ass is sticking out and your pussy stretches around his cock visibly. Jungkook can see her shift around his cock. All puffy and swollen and oh so wet. The view may be a little distorted from the weak window reflection, but it’s still enough for him.

"You're so sexy, your pussy's so fucking pretty. Fuck baby", he growls and growls again. He spanks you, soaking up the view of your jiggling ass like an addict. The broken sound you make in reaction fuels him, makes his cock twice as hard as it already is.

Jungkook spanks you again, eliciting the most desperate, almost painful, sob ever. The reason for it presents itself to him just seconds later as your pussy convulses in another orgasm.

You claw at him, biting into his shoulder because nothing helps. Your pussy is so sensitive, your ass hurts so much, your body is so weak in his arms. All of this paired with the fact that Jungkook feels the same as you, makes you cum like you never orgasmed before. You convulse and shake and tremble until it gets too much for your pussy and she squirts angrily.

“Fuck yes”, Jungkook growls, reaching between your legs to rub your clit instantly. He pulls you off his cock for the sole purpose of giving your pussy the unplugged chance to squirt everywhere. And you do, oh you do. The entire floor in front of the chaise lounge gets covered in you, his cock is getting soaked in it too now that it’s right under your pussy, aching to be back inside.

"That's it. Squirt for me. Holy fuck, keep squirting baby. Fuck, you’re mine. Fucking mine", Jungkook is chanting whatever comes into his scrambled brain, rubbing your clit like a madman.

You scream and wail, twitching so aggressively that your muscles ache. You don’t even know anymore if he is making you squirt or if you’re just straight up pissing yourself. You know however that you don’t want him to stop, clawing at him with all the desperation in the world.

Jungkook moans loudly, back burning from your nails and head pounding like crazy. He’s got you fucking squirting. Holy fuck, it’s so hot. Jungkook presses his fingers tighter to your clit, rubbing her quickly.

"O-oh" you squeak, fleeing him with an arch of your back.

Jungkook however chases you, pinning you back against him, "don’t fight it. Let it happen", he growls, pinching your clit just to rub her between his fingers.

“Stop please”, you beg now that overstimulation is eating you alive, “holy fuck oh god”, you croak, writhing atop of him as his fingers press against your clit repeatedly.

“Don’t flee”, he orders, pinning your hips back against him, "I know you’re made for this. You're my fucking girl, you’re made for this", he chants and bucks his hips up, forcing his huge cock to slip back into you.

You squeak and grow completely still on top of him. The stretch goes oh so deep and hard. Holy fuck, your pussy feels like it's going to burst.

"Please", you beg.

Jungkook knows it’s because you are so goddamn tight and his cock is huge. He runs his hands down to your ass, soothing the burning skin with slow circles.

“Take a breath for me”, he orders, making it easier for you by grabbing your ass and parting it, which results in your pussy getting all open for him as well.

You whimper into his neck, barely taking breaths.

“There we go. I don’t wanna hurt you, baby”, Jungkook soothes you.

“You’re so big”, you mewl.

“I know. I know I am, but you can take me. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” you keen, relaxing around him in a desperate shudder.

“Yeah you are. You’re my good girl and you’re gonna take my big cock like you’re made for it, aren’t you?”

“F-for how long?” you stutter, twisting his hair as your body once again tenses without you having any kind of control over it. You are so tight and Jungkook’s so big. It burns so addictively, almost feeling too much and yet not enough. You don’t know whether to flee or to chase him. But you do know that for however long you have to take him still, the result will be the same. You are changed. If Jungkook thinks he can go back to his calculated patterns after tonight, he is mistaken. You never ever want to have other sex with him again. Just raw, honest, rough fucking.

“Not for long anymore. I’m really fucking close”, he answers you, picking up in his movements.

He is giving you long, drawn-out strokes. The kind which makes his entire cock leave your pussy before stuffing her again within one rough second. And which make his balls slap against your ass from the sheer force. Your skin is so sensitive from the spanking that getting his heavy balls against your ass feels like addicting paradise.

“Gonna cum so good baby. Gonna cum so fucking good”, Jungkook growls against you.

“Oh god”, you whimper, hugging him tightly, “are you gonna cum inside me?”

“Yes baby. Gonna stuff you.”

“Kook”, you sob, convulsing around him in desperation, “please stuff me, please.”

“I will, gonna fill you up till you’re dripping. Hear me? Want you dripping and leaking ‘cause of me.”

His hips falter, he squeezes your hips.

“Fuck”, he spits, “it’s…difficult…”

You understand him. When he made you cum like crazy, you couldn’t move either. It must be so difficult for him to keep moving his hips. You lift your head just so you can see how he reacts when you take over for him.

You may be entirely spend and tired, but making him cum is filling you with a spurt of energy. You slam your hips down on him, lifting them quickly afterwards just to begin your ruthless bouncing up and down his huge cock.

Jungkook widens his eyes, gasping for air. He scrunches his entire face up in pleasure, head rolling back and mouth falling open.

He moans loudly, voice sounding way more high-pitched than you ever heard him sound.

His very obvious enjoyment, motivates you to speed up. You add little movements back and forth to your bounces, biting down on your tongue solely because your own thighs want to give up on you. His cock feels so good inside you.

“Baby”, Jungkook keens, falling back on the chaise lounge. His head tangles over the edge just enough that his hair is hanging over the edge in messy strands. He throws his own arm over his eyes, moaning so loudly that you can hear it echo in the penthouse.

“Jungkook”, you mewl, slamming your hands on his chest for support. Like this you can arch your back and therefore force his cock to rub right against your walls.

Jungkook lets out a sob, almost making you falter in your movements. Your widened eyes are glued to his face in shock, your pussy is clenching like crazy in arousal. Jungkook drags both his hands over his face and buries them in his own hair. Like this his arms are tensing, sweat is running down his skin and soaking his hair.

“I’m cumming”, he croaks out and sobs.

“Do it, fill me up. Mark me as yours”, you growl, slamming down on him.

“Aaah!” Jungkook screams and arches his back. He gets stuck in that position as he finally breaks, chasing you with squirms while producing the most high-pitched and desperate squeaks ever.

“That’s it. Fuck. I’m yours Kook, fucking yours.”

“Oh god”, Jungkook arches his back even more, cock releasing another wave of cum inside you, “don’t stop please don’t stop, it feels good”, he begs, thighs trembling like crazy and stomach tensing so much that he fears he’ll develop a new set of never-seen-before-abs.

You fuck him and fuck him and fuck him and Jungkook keeps on shaking in his high as his cock is pumping you full of endless cum.

“Shit”, you croak, eyes rolling back and body trembling out of control now that you realised what was actually happening, “baby”, you croak, crumbling around him a third and last time, prolonging his orgasm to fiery levels of intensity.

“I can’t stop! It, it doesn’t stop”, he wails, feeling it run out of you by now. Did he seriously never cum before? What the hell is happening to him? What are you doing to him? Jungkook is crying and shaking and cumming and he has no control over it.

“Me neither”, you sob, collapsing with him as your body gives up on you, "fuck baby, oh baby."

"I fucking love this, holy shit", Jungkook growls, meeting your sloopy movements with equally as sloppy movements.

Now you are rutting against each other like tired, yet needy animals. Arms holding each other close and heads pounding like crazy. The sloppy grinding is enough to force your endless highs to die down gradually. Slowly, but at least they are dying down. Truly, you don’t think you could have stopped on your own if your bodies didn’t actually give up on you.

The room is silent, safe for your heavy breathing and the occasional sound when a droplet of your juices is dripping onto the ground. His cock is still inside you. Hard as a rock and getting squeezed by your tight walls. In theory none of those nice juices should escape you, but with the amount of cum he pumped into you, losing a few droplets is unavoidable.

Your head is resting on his chest right where his collarbone blends into his shoulder. You can hear the heavy pounding of his heart even from here. It mixes with the sound of your own rushing blood.

You don’t quite know if you actually fell asleep or not. The minutes after tonight’s fuck are a blur in your mind. Maybe you fell asleep, it would explain why you started drooling on Jungkook.

You slurp quietly, forcing your heavy eyes to open.

Jungkook’s chest heaves up and down slowly, his heartbeat calmed down. You are shivering like crazy, feeling so goddamn cold all of a sudden. Even his cock feels different, sitting inside you all limp and soft.

Okay you definitely fell asleep.

Groaning softly you lift yourself to your elbows.

Jungkook is very obviously sleeping. Mouth open widely and eyes closed. He looks so funny like that, making you giggle. Something you never did before, but tonight changed you. You can’t deny it. You feel fuzzy in his presence. Fuzzy and warm and maybe a little giddy.

You lift yourself even more, shimmying your hips to make his cock slip out.

Jungkook jerks awake, gripping your hips strongly to prevent it from happening.

“Don’t”, he croaks, voice heavy in sleep.

“Oh. I-“, you freeze up in the position, “I didn’t think you’d wake up.”

“I didn’t sleep”, Jungkook says, with his voice contorted in exhaustion now that he is forcing himself to sit up.

You snort, “yeah sure.”

“Does it matter?”

You shake your head, eyes racing between his’. Jungkook’s eyes do the same, hands running up and down your ass. He opens his mouth to talk only to chicken out and close it again.

You place your hands on the sides of his neck.

Jungkook exhales shakily because of it. He inhales and opens his mouth again.

“What”, he begins, having to clear his terribly dry throat, “what did this mean to you?”

You swallow down the heavy lump in your throat. Jungkook gulps as well, eyes widening in both nervousness and hopefulness.

“What did it mean to you?” you ask him, wanting to stall time.

“Don’t avoid my question”, he says in a shaky voice.

You lower your eyes and take a deep breath. When you lift your gaze seconds later, Jungkook’s eyes have filled with tears of unbearable nervousness.

“It meant everything…baby”, you say, gnawing on your lower lip in nervousness.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut and pulls you close, hiding his face in the crook of your neck just so you can’t see his stupid tears roll down his cheeks. You aren’t calling him husband anymore.

“I feel the same”, he presses out, cradling you oh so strongly.

“Good”, you whisper, holding him against you.

“It’s you and I, yeah?”

“Yeah, you and I”, you promise him.

“Fuck, baby”, he exhales, standing up with you even if his legs are wobbly.

You hug him tightly, sighing his name. Maybe being his wife isn’t that bad. Maybe you actually do love him and maybe he actually loves you too. Maybe it is way too soon to make such decisions and maybe the magic will stop come tomorrow. But at least tonight you are sure that you love him and Jungkook knows that he loves you too.

He places you atop your bed, climbing on top of you.

“Wait, we’re dirty”, you gasp, “shouldn’t we shower first?”

Jungkook cups your face, “why? Just to get dirty again?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what that means”, Jungkook breathes and finally pulls you into a kiss.

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agustdakasuga · 1 year

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The Way Of A Criminal (Series Masterlist) [PAUSED]

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

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ncteez · 1 year

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Menace (m.yg)

When you learn of a hostage within the confines of the abandoned apartment building downtown, you weren’t expecting it to be Min Yoongi, the most wanted man in the country by gangs and policemen alike. or the one where yoongi wasn’t prepared to be stuck in a situation with his own enemy, nor was he prepared to be kept alive by and ultimately infatuated with one that calls herself Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend.

ao3 | m.lists | leave feedback and reblog to give gangster yoongi a boner.

minors do not interact.

WORDCOUNT― 11k

PAIRING― gangster!yoongi x afab reader

CONTENT― yoongi is mad that he has to be submissive sexually, smut, grotesque descriptions of blood and gore, food mentions, you’re still really soft despite being surrounded by killers. FYI: the use of the word brother in this fic is not indicating that the characters are blood related.

SIDE CHARACTERS― namjoon as the leader of a gang and also your boyfriend, jungkook as a fellow gang member on your end.

WARNINGS― namjoon is fucking awful, yoongi is a lil mean but still a big softie, intense descriptions of starvation, torture methods, and broken fingers, mentions of suicide, mentions of r*pe (in passing), mentions of killing methods like drowning, stabbing, shooting, catching on fire. fr, this fic is very unsavory but they still fuck so, take that as you will.

NOTE― listen. this started as a different idea and ended as this so, fr, don’t even read it. if you do, just be aware that I am not responsible for the content you consume, i’m just responsible for being down bad enough to write it :) if you send me an off hand message you will be blocked for not knowing how to avoid content you don’t like. bye (p.s. we are just gonna pretend that people do not need to use the bathroom in this fic bc im not about to find a work around to let this man relieve himself. no piss or shit will be mentioned in this fic or in any of my fics ever. thanks.)

smut tags under cut::

smut tags :: pain, making out, frottage, biting, dirty talk, mocking, uh….getting turned on by the idea of Namjoon dying, unprotected sex, cream pie, mentions of eating pussy, mentions of multiple orgasms

The leaking ceiling was somehow nicer sounding than the one in his apartment, and his bruised ribs feel less painful now that he’s laid here for three days on the cold and molded floor. Plenty of time to heal, plenty of time to think, and plenty of time to build up a distinct type of rage within his body.

If he hadn’t made that tiny mistake, he would be at the shop surrounded by faces that are sworn to protect him. He would be swimming in money, women, and eating only the finest delicacies this city has to offer. But no, he had to trust the wrong fucking person.

It was impressive actually, that the man going by the name of “John” managed to slip through the cracks. Yoongi grew fond of him quickly, especially with how eager the newcomer was to kill and maim not only alongside him, but for him without a single doubt.

He should have known that he was experienced, especially with the way he killed, with the way he drank, with the way he fucked every woman accepted in the confines of the hideout. He should have known that he was in a gang already, and that said group had been out to get him for years.

Jungkook was his real name. A man who had been given endearing nicknames from both himself and other high-ranking men within this gang. He answered most to the name of “Jojo”, looking Yoongi dead in the eye with vicious intent and loyalty. He was a good liar, better than himself, apparently.

Yoongi really messed up, learning the truth only when he was met with Namjoon, face to face and battered up black and blue before being restrained and left in this unknown location. Naturally, there is a type of rage within him right now that could kill a large sum of men in one breath.

Unfortunately, he can’t. His wrists have been bound in the same position for three days, and he has still been unable to unbind them. His legs are numb from the stomping, but still working through the intense pain of his attempts at slithering across the floor to find a new spot on the cold ground.

The room is empty, there is nothing save for a chair in the corner and a doorknob that remains locked. There is only a single window, both the walls and floor are concrete and cinderblocks, and the only sound he’s heard since his last broken finger cracked through his ears, is the sound of that fucking water dripping.

He lifts his head, only to drop it back to the floor in a huff. Not quite in a sound of defeat, but more so a sound of frustration. Surely the men who did this have already been killed, surely his loyal friends are searching for him. Surely–

A new sound.

Yoongi can barely comprehend hearing something other than the slow and consistent drip, drip, drip of the ceiling leaking just a few feet from him. He’s grown weak within the three days he spent here, delirious even. No food and only those very drips of water to quench his sore and dried out throat. That sound is familiar though, and his drowsy eyes can hardly make sense of it.

Then another new sound. Something clicking. Echoing through these empty walls and meshing with the two other sounds, creating a new song in his head that somehow seems like bliss.

He thinks hard about the tune in his head, wondering if it’s similar to a song he knows, or if he’s just going insane from the feeling of his stomach both healing and starving. It is too much sensation for him, as he curls up in a pathetic little ball of a person and wonders what the others would think to see him like this.

He lays there, thinking about those sounds becoming louder and louder before his eyes shoot open in realization.

Those are footsteps.

An immediate headache hits him when he forces his body up, sitting uncomfortable on the floor with his arms still twisted behind his back. He stares at the door in wait, wondering if it’ll be his brothers bursting through, or an enemy.

When that door opens though, his face twists similar to the way it did when he was getting held down and his fingers snapped to the side.

“F-” he tries to say upon seeing Jungkook for the first time since it all went down, but his throat is too dry to speak and he coughs instead.

“Happy to see me?” Jungkook smiles, stepping to the side to reveal another person with him.

Yoongi glares, not paying attention even the slightest to the person standing just behind him. That clicking sound matched her shoes, so pristine against this dirty floor. He doesn’t dare speak again, as his eyes trail down to the gun in Jungkook's hand, and then shift to the side at the plastic bag in her hand.

He can make out a bottle, and possibly, food. He won’t grove for it though, no.

“Damn, you guys really fucked him up. I never thought you actually caught him.” You smile in an uneasy way, walking back alongside Jungkook and making your way out of the building.

“Told you we got him. Namjoon seemed really pleased, you think he’s finally going to let me into the circle?” Jungkook’s shining eyes somehow seem innocent with that question as you look at him.

“If he wasn’t fond of you, he wouldn’t have let you escort me here,” You start, lowering your sunglasses from your head to your eyes to avoid the bright sunlight once you step outside. “He would have brought me himself. You’re already in.”

“You certainly complained enough wanting to see, I was shocked he even let you this time, even more shocked that he asked me to bring you.”

Jungkook smiles again, wanting to pat himself on the back for his hard and dedicated work to Namjoon. He’s a harsh man but one that he wants on his side nonetheless. If this is going to be his life he’d rather be sitting in the room drinking expensive liquor than out running the streets and committing petty crimes.

This was his deal and he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t fuck it up again. He was very nearly kicked out, and by kicked out, he means killed by Namjoon himself. Why? Well, as experienced as he is at killing, fighting, and being an asshole, he wasn’t too experienced with smuggling substances across country lines.

He got it easy though, thankfully being caught by one of them that resides within the government factions. Then again, that man ran straight to Namjoon and complained on his name, stating that they were all at risk of being caught if it wasn’t for the nim-witted officer he was stationed with that night.

Started off well enough, Jungkook coughed the wrong way and his hands shook slightly. The officer immediately wanted to search the vehicle. Thankfully, one of theirs took over, and what did he find? Exactly what was he knew would be there.

Namjoon was pissed at the situation. Hauling Jungkook in as if he were one of their hostages, towering above him on the floor and tipping his head back with the heel of his expensive boot.

“What should I do with you now?” Namjoon said to him, huffing in a gutteral way out of frustration. “You’re telling me you can kill three men without breaking a sweat but you can’t get through a security check without shivering in fear?!”

Jungkook knows better than to speak, he simply nods.

“You’re lucky it went down the way it did, and you’re lucky your cousin put in a good word for you.” Namjoon continued, crouching down to Jungkook’s level on the floor and looking him in the eye. “If you fuck this one up, you’re done.”

Honestly, he couldn’t believe the kindness Namjoon gave to him. He’s known for having a temper, and he’s known for being unforgiving, but he got a second chance, and he wasn’t going to fuck that up.

That deal was to run off and act much like he did while trying to smuggle those drugs. Be a puppy for another gang, get close, get in with the crowd, and then get Min Yoongi. The man who killed Namjoon’s closest brother some four years ago. His grudge never left, and unfortunately, Yoongi was very nearly untouchable.

Jungkook did his duty, and now, he’s in. The girlfriend of Namjoon himself said so and with that, he can’t help but feel proud when he sees that man suffering in the room alone. He can’t help but be happy as he escorts you back to Namjoon. Truly, he can’t help it.

“We can’t just starve him.” You argue another three days after you last saw proof of the man confined in that abandoned building.

“This is why I forbid you from seeing the hostages. ” Namjoon tries not to argue with you, but it’s gotten to the point that you really just need to sit down and shut up about it. “He killed the only other man I could trust, and you want me to give him a fucking menu?”

“Well, no but,” You start, but Namjoon cuts you off.

“That’s enough. If you’re so worried about him tell Jungkook to swing by with some dog food.”

You look to the floor with a short nod, knowing for a fact that this is just the way it goes. You figured your boyfriend would want to strangle the man with his bare hands rather than let him rot away slowly. There’s too many opportunities for Yoongi to be found there, and far too many variables in the situation. The least he can have is a meal before he dies, right?

Then again, you know you’re quite soft despite the lifestyle you live. Min Yoongi is not a good man, but he is still a man. You’re a bit curious about him too. He was kind of cute even as he sat on that floor battered, so those rumors about him being easy on the eyes were true. Not that a scale of attractiveness really matters, considering he’s killed people from this family with a smile on his face.

You think hard that night, alone in bed as Namjoon probably mingles around the club he recently took control of. Imagining how awful the hostage must feel, all alone in the dark. It has you thinking a bit too hard about what it means to be human. You know where that apartment building is, and you know where the nearest convenience store is. Jungkook already knows you tried to feed him once and it didn’t work (because Yoongi kicked it across the floor out of spite.), so you’re unsure of how it would go down if you went alone.

Still, it’s not like you’d be in any danger, not when you grab one of the guns and slide it into an empty purse.

Arriving at the building feels scarier than it did when Jungkook was with you. It’s dark, and you can hear creaking as the wind picks up and rain begins to fall. Still, you take a deep breath and rush inside with another offer of food.

You follow your footsteps from before. Left, left, down a flight of stairs, right, and left. The hallway that contains his prison feels much longer than before, and the sound of rain is nearly muted at this point. You feel as if you’re buried deep within a tomb, with a flashy and loud bag of snacks for a man that killed your boyfriend’s brother.

It feels silly, but you still think you could at least try to communicate with him. However stupid this decision is, you pay no mind.

When you get to the door, the room is so dark and quiet that you wonder if you either picked the wrong room or he’s dead already. Still, you flip on the flashlight you grabbed and place it on the chair in the corner, shining it directly at the man lying on the floor.

You take a moment to look around and smile slightly when you notice the food he kicked from him before has been eaten. Surely that pack of crackers and bottled water wasn’t enough, but it’s all Jungkook would let slide without fearing for his life again.

“Hi.” You say in a peppy voice, seemingly in a much better spot than he is and accidentally making it more obvious.

Yoongi groans, rolling over to look at you briefly before letting his head fall back to the floor.

“I brought food again. There’s more this time.” You smile when you say it, shaking the bag as if Yoongi truly were a dog that would jump and do tricks for the food. “It’s against the rules, and I’m not supposed to be here so I suggest you fucking appreciate it this time.”

He rolls his eyes as he lies there, weak and hardly able to move. He does try though, more willing now to grovel, more willing to do just about anything for food so he can at least get his thoughts straight.

You watch him struggle to sit up, and only now realize that he really is dying. He’s actually starving and probably can’t simply appreciate the food if he doesn’t have the energy to even hold his head up.

“Do you need some help?” You ask, walking around and shining the light at his face.

You’re taken aback by his eyes. They’re dull and lifeless as he gives a small nod. You can see that he’s silently pleading.

“Ah, right. Starvation and all that.” You say with a pained laugh, grabbing the bag and scooting it next to him before crouching down and trying to lift him up.

His body is horrendously lightweight, and something inside of you twists at the feeling of him slumped in your arms. You hold him there, listening to his pained groans as you glance around the room and start to drag him.

“Here, sit up,” You say, propping him against the wall and going back for the bag. “I’ve got two sandwiches, two bottles of water, and an ibuprofen.”

You see his pained and choked chuckle at the mention of an ibuprofen, as if that’s a bandaid for the immense amount of anguish he’s been feeling. Still, he relishes in the feeling of another person being near him. The energy alone helps him keep his eyes open.

“Can you chew?” You ask, looking at him as you unwrap a sandwich and try to place it against his lips. “Um,”

You feel defeated seeing someone in this state so closely. Regardless of what he’s done, you feel pity and slight disgust of his treatment. No wonder Namjoon forbids you most of the time from meeting hostages or looking at crime scenes as if it were a zoo for your entertainment.

“You must feel awful,” You whisper, trying again to push the sandwich past his lips. “Can you eat this for me?”

He tries. Opening his mouth and feeling the sensation of taste. His mouth waters and burns at the sudden feeling, drool running out of the sides of his lips as he tries to work up the energy to chew. His throat is too dry to swallow though, and he chokes on the barely chewed piece of sandwich.

You’re quick to grab a bottle of water and tilt his head back. You grab his cheeks and hold his head steady and his mouth open, pouring a bit of the water into his mouth and watching how long it takes for him to swallow both the food and the water.

“God, I know I should be hating you but this really is pitiful.” You comment, feeling as if you’re already talking to a corpse.

In a way you are, and you hate it. So maybe, knowing that Namjoon intends to leave this man here unbothered and unfed until he’s dead, surely you can…you know…help the situation.

On one end, you’re betraying an entire gang of men and women who have protected you for years. You’re betraying your boyfriend, the leader of that gang, but…humanity still exists within you. Since that night, feeding a viscous killer, you couldn’t stop thinking of the state he was in.

You knew Namjoon was a killer but he never let you see that side of him. You saw Yoongi once three days after his capture and he still looked alive and well despite being heavily beaten. And just those three days later, you saw how much the world seemed to have forgotten him.

You have heard whispers of the rival gang searching for him, but they have been met with no luck. You appear to be his only saving grace, which is a terrifying place to have put yourself in. Still, if they’re going to kill him, you’d rather they just shoot him in the head and leave it at that.

You’re meddling where you shouldn’t be, and you still have no idea why you feel compelled to do it.

On the other end, you find yourself in deep shit when you continue to visit Yoongi late at night to essentially undo what your boyfriend has ordered. You notice how far you’ve gone when Yoongi can start talking, when he can start moving, when his eyes brighten up a little more, when his cheeks become fuller.

The moment you see him, with faded bruises and still swollen fingers, you wonder what he looked like without being so fucked up. His face is still pretty, even when he was on the verge of death, and here you are watching him appreciate that you, an enemy, continue to keep him alive.

“He’s going to kill you for this, you know.” Yoongi comments, eating away at the meal you’ve brought him this time. “Feeding me so often. I’m pretty sure they were leaving me here to die.”

“They were.” You huff, sitting on the wooden chair and watching the way his energy grows. “I figure if I get caught, I’ll just kill you first and then myself.”

“Bold,” He ticks his tongue, still not looking away from the food in front of him. “I can imagine they think I’m already dead.”

A wave of cold fear hits you. That’s right. Surely by now, he would be dead, and surely they’d come check and hide the body or something. But no one has shown up, no one but you. You can imagine that by now, they’re probably planning to come see him, and seeing him alive and well would pose questions. Lots of questions.

Thankfully, no one notices when you leave at night. You never leave when Namjoon stays with you, and you never make yourself suspicious either. If they have any questions, they certainly wouldn’t expect you to be the one to answer them.

“So, why’d you kill him?” You ask, wondering if you can at least learn some information about him before all of this comes crashing down around him.

“Kill who? I’ve killed a lot of people, most of them I don’t even know their names.” He laughs, narrowing his eyes at you. “Who are you, anyway?”

You pause. He’s still a dead man despite that beating heart so telling him wouldn’t change a thing, you assume. You give him your name and follow up with your title.

“You’re dating that pompous asshole? You know what he did to my family, right?” Yoongi looks at you with a face you hadn't seen before. There’s a lot of hate behind it as he sneers at you.

“I don’t, no. But I can imagine he probably killed them, right?”

Yoongi nods with a grimace, for the first time losing his appetite. It’s laughable, really.

“If you’re referring to his friend, I shot him. It was a quick death. But do you know what he did to my friends?” He continues with an evil smirk, as if telling you will hurt you as much as he’s been hurt.

You shake your head, breathing in deeply at the images in your head.

“Well, you saw what he was doing to me. I’m shocked he was being so kind with my demise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, both curious and afraid to actually learn what he means.

“Have you ever seen what happens to a body after they’ve been floating in murky water for a week?”

You shake your head.

“Have you ever heard the snap of a neck?”

You again, shake your head.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” He laughs, now gaining his appetite back. “Both of those things, I'd love to do to your boyfriend.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for some reason, you don’t shiver.

“Are you saying those are things he’s done?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Well, yeah. Most of us have. But him. He’s particularly brutal, likes to send us videos, y’know? I bet you’ve never watched the only person you’ve ever loved get doused in gasoline and set on fire either, have you?”

You freeze, another chill running down your body. Namjoon did that? Like, you knew killing was part of it but you really expected a typical gunshot or stabbing. This, this is something else. Given, you watched him starve the man in front of you so, should it be as shocking as it is?

But it is, because he did this to someone’s girlfriend? You’re his girlfriend, and by doing that to Yoongi, surely that put a hit on your head.

“He’s not so pretty in your head now, huh?” Another laugh.

“Is that why you killed him?” You ask, trying to avert the attention to someone other than Namjoon.

“No. Unfortunately, I was the one who did the first hit. But to be fair,” Yoongi twists his wrists bound behind him and tilts his head in a playful way. “He did some unsavory things to that same person I loved.”

Unsavory things. You can’t imagine what that could be outside of, well, rape. Namjoon’s best friend, his brother, raped Yoongi’s girlfriend. And then Namjoon set her on fire in retaliation?

“Why are you so quiet now?” Yoongi asks, finishing off his food with little to no hesitation and staring at the water. “Not too happy to learn that I’m not the only piece of shit you seem to cling to?”

You take offense to that, eyes trailing to that same bottle of water he’s looking at.

“Fuck you.” You say, standing from your place and grabbing that bottle of water, opening it, and pouring it out on the floor in front of him. “If you're thirsty, there, have at it.”

You don’t even look at him when you turn and walk away, locking the door and promising yourself that you won’t come back. There’s no way Namjoon did those things, and you’re not fucking clinging.

Fortunately for Yoongi, no one unsavory shows up two days later. It’s you again, reluctantly stepping in with his delivery of food and energy.

“Here I was thinking you wouldn’t come back.” He laughs, scooting from the wall and toward you. By now his legs are feeling better, and he can even move some of his fingers, which is very lucky because he really thought they had been twisted.

“You’re lucky I did.” You deadpan, walking up to him and looking down. “I learned that maybe you’re not much of a liar, are you?”

He tilts his head at you with a smirk, nodding his head in a genuine way.

“I’m either going to die, or you are. What’s the point in keeping secrets?”

You nod brokenly, breathing in a deep sigh and still trying to process the things you confirmed on your own. Jungkook may be in, but he sure does have a loud mouth when you start asking him questions. The good news is that, if Namjoon found out Jungkook shared those secrets, he’d be on the chopping block again. So, he’s kind of stuck with you in this limbo of wondering who to trust and who not to trust.

You, now fearing your own boyfriend who not only holds you on the nights he’s home, but tells you he loves you, feel at a loss when you look at Yoongi.

Both men have committed atrocities and it’s funny how you expected them to have not been that way. At least the man before you told you the truth though. He protected a person he loved, and Namjoon killed people for it.

“Yoongi.” You say his name for the first time and he grimaces immediately at it.

“What makes you think we are on a first name basis?” He asks, snidely.

“I had to feed you like a fucking baby, I can call you whatever I damn well please.” You argue, stepping back and reaching for the chair to sit in front of him.

“You think you can just call me whatever you want because you chose to fuck your life up and keep me alive?” He laughs again, clearly very aware of the position he’s in but still unafraid. “So fucking clingy. I don’t see how he stands it.”

You scoff, poking your tongue in your cheek at the audacity of this man.

“Have you ever heard of saying “Thank you”?” You ask, rolling your eyes and kicking him over.

He falls with a huff, but lays there chuckling about it.

“Either way, Jungkook said he was ordered to come here in two days to get rid of your body. So, I suggest you either roll over and die or we figure something out.”

“We?” He questions, sitting himself back up and looking at you with a raised brow. “So, you’re working for me now?”

You look around the room, wanting to cry because it damn well seems that way considering what you’ve learned. Namjoon would probably kill you without blinking . Unfortunately, yeah, maybe you are.

“It seems so.” You look at him, noticing how his once dull and lifeless eyes are full of energy and rage. Noticing even more how he looks up and down your body.

You can imagine the man is touch starved, and for some reason, that is…kind of attractive. Such a wanted man checking you out as if you both aren’t on the verge of being shoved into a morgue freezer.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes stay roaming, and then he flicks them back up at you. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, it’s pretty hot to know you’re turning your back on that piece of shit.”

In his head, he’s very clearly barely back to reality. After all, he’s been in this room entirely alone save for you. Nearly dying and then coming back from the brink of death because of you. Is it so wrong for him to kind of, you know, be a man in such a dire situation?

“I haven’t turned my back on him! I’m just,” You pause, going quiet for a moment to think. “I’m just trying to figure out if I can accept what he’s done.”

“And so, you’re asking me what to do so we both don’t get killed? Hate to tell you babe, but even if you chose to stay, I'd tell them the second they find me alive that you’re the one who fed me.”

You glare at him, knowing that you’re both facing a brick wall with guns pointed to your head.

“I bet you would.”

“He and I are pretty similar, watching you die wouldn’t sting even a tiny bit.” He continues, poking and pushing the buttons he realizes you have. “Thank you though.”

You look down at him, tilting your head and, for some reason, smiling.

“You’re welcome.” You say, standing to your feet and walking around him.

He protests the second he feels your arms snake around him and try to lift him. His body now having a bit more weight to it, you feel pleased that you kept him alive, for some reason.

“Sit on the chair.” You say, still tugging him up and noticing how he wobbles on his legs.

Yoongi says nothing, for some reason no longer fighting and instead focusing on seeing if his legs still work. Somehow, they’re not broken, and he’s able to stand on them for a brief moment before leaning the entirety of his weight on you.

“Clingy.” He laughs in an out of breath whisper, fumbling to the chair and finally falling into it.

“Did you love your girlfriend?” You ask, stepping back and looking at him propped in his chair.

“I did.” He admits, looking straight past you and at the wall. “Can’t now though.”

You look to the ground.

“Would you have killed her if she kept Namjoon alive behind your back?” You ask.

“No.” He admits again, laughing at himself. “Would have killed myself before I ever laid a hand on her.”

You think hard about the similarities between Yoongi and Namjoon, but you struggle to find many of them. Which is terrifying.

“So, you really think Namjoon would kill me for the same reasons?”

“Babe,” He lets out a pained laugh for you, shaking his head in pity. “I don’t think it. I know it.”

You nod your head, because you honestly think he would too.

“So, what now?” You ask, knowing there is no answer to the question.

“I’d suggest you run home to him.” He says, nodding his head to the door as if to encourage you. “I don’t suppose I can expect you to accidentally let one of my family members know where I am though, can I?”

“No,” you say sadly, trying to force the tears threatening to shed to stay behind your eyelids. “I suppose you can’t.”

It’s silent for a long while, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. Realizing how much safer you feel in this prison compared to in bed next to Namjoon. It’s frightening, truly, that you could be killed simply for having humanity. Yoongi’s girlfriend was killed because his humanity drove him to revenge. Maybe you’re the one more similar to Yoongi.

“I’m not really going to tell them, you know.” Yoongi calls out, dropping his head and looking at you from under his messy hair. “I might kill, but rarely without reason. I’m satisfied enough with the idea that you might leave him.”

You stare at him.

“You’re too naive to be involved with all of this. He seems to do a pretty shit job at protecting you, considering you’re here with me.”

You continue to look at him, questioning every word he’s saying.

“You’re pretty similar to her, you know? I mean, minus the whole going behind his back thing.” Yoongi smiles when he looks at you, and arguably that expression hits you right in the gut.

“If I untie you, would you come after me?” You ask, studying him.

“Maybe, who knows?” He watches you go behind him anyway. “You like playing with fire, don’t you?”

His eyes light up at the feeling of you behind him, hoping to god you’re truly weak hearted enough to untie him. He could run, he could fulfill this rage growing in his heart, but those hopes are shattered when you come back into view.

You lean down, inches from his face and look directly into his eyes. Searching for a reason to think he would kill you the instant you untie those hands. What you see instead, is his eyes flicking to your lips.

You, in turn, flick your eyes to his and you don’t even know why you do it. Perhaps it’s the overwhelming feeling of death looming over the two of you. You hold Yoongi’s life in your hands, and he technically holds your life in his if he were to tell on you. The feeling is driven solely by fear, disgust, hate, pity.

You kiss him. His breath not offering much outside of the citrus fruit he had eaten when you offered it to him just an hour earlier.

It’s silent, and you can imagine he truly could have gone insane in this room all by himself. You feel yourself going insane too, despite feeling safer.

And when you pull back reluctantly, Yoongi’s eyes shine a little differently. His smirk is still scary but his eyes are soft and pleading. That dull look in his eyes from the first night you fed him? That tiny little glint of need shining through to you? That is showing in full force and you wonder if he notices it.

“He’d definitely kill you.” Yoongi laughs, still looking at you.

It’s silent again, save for a few quick breaths leaving your chest. You give him a short nod, because you know he’s right and there’s no point in denying it at this point.

“But I wouldn’t.”

All you can do is fall farther into the insanity that fills this room at that. Leaning in and kissing him again, this time a bit more desperate, releasing all of the tension inside of you on him as you bring your body closer, and straddle his sore and weak legs.

“Are you asking to die?” He comments at your closeness, confirming that you may actually be as clingy as he joked that you were. It appears that death doesn’t seem to scare you at this moment, nor does it scare him.

If anything, having Namjoon’s girl straddling his lap without so much as asking for it is a new kind of desire in his mind. Namjoon may have killed his ex girlfriend, but he didn’t fuck her. Which, arguably, isn’t worse than losing her but still makes his heart race with anger at the thought. The idea of taking you from that man even for a moment is blissful. An ultimate insult, one that would piss Namjoon off beyond belief. Surely he’d be left in a different room to be eaten by rats next time he makes an attempt on his life.

“Hm?” Yoongi continues, letting you kiss him, feeling your weight on his sore body, kind of loving the feeling because he hasn’t touched a woman since his girlfriend died. But if he’s going to end up dead, he might as well fuck Namjoon’s girlfriend beforehand, right?

“Maybe I am,” you answer, breathlessly. “Are you?” You ask, leaning back and looking at him.

“You do realize I’m one of the most wanted men in this country, right?” He laughs, smirking and feeling quite cocky with the turn of events.

“That,” You eye him, feeling his length twitch beneath you. “you are.”

He chuckles, noting that you’re suddenly complimenting him now.

“Wanted by you wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but alright.” He shrugs, pressing his hips up and against you. “Can you at least untie my hands if you’re going to throw yourself at me like this?”

You shake your head, lifting off of him a bit and checking that his hands are still bound.

“No,” You laugh, sitting back down and noticing his harsh reaction to your weight on his legs again. “Does your dick still work?”

Yoongi glares, unsure of how he feels about fucking someone while bound and in pain like this, but who is he to say no? Again, Namjoon’s girlfriend. Rage and revenge. If he can live through a heavy beating and starvation, surely he can handle a girl bouncing on his cock.

“It appears so,” He says, feeling the twitch in his pants fight against the pain of his legs. “Why, you gonna fuck me?”

“Maybe, who knows?” You respond, leaning back down and biting hard against his neck.

He glares at the wall, seemingly enthralled with the idea but still not entirely happy with the situation at hand. He’s not typically the person to be fucked, and yet, here you are moving your hips against his battered body, bumping against his cock each time.

Shaking himself out of it, he has to remember that again, this is Namjoon’s girlfriend and he wants to fuck her for no other reason than pissing him off. So, whatever.

“Are you this eager with him too?” He asks, trying to crane his neck from your biting mouth to get you to look at him. “or am I just lucky?”

Lucky, hah. You scoff against his neck before pulling back to look at him.

“You really do talk a lot of shit, you know that?” You say, deliberately pressing more weight against his legs to elicit a pained groan out of him.

“I’ve been told, yes.” He groans in a half laugh, not wanting to appear as broken as you know he has been. “You’re still the one trying to fuck enemy number one though.”

Internally, your heart is racing.

“Maybe I’m the lucky one then?” You offer, moaning a bit at the feeling of how hard he’s gotten despite the state of his body. “Most wanted man in the country right? Sitting right here, tied up, at my mercy.”

“Damn, I didn’t know Namjoon liked to be slapped around.” Yoongi laughs, wincing again at both the pain and pleasure you’re offering to him.

“He doesn’t.” You respond, tilting your head before leaning in close to his ear. “I’m the one who likes that.”

His arms shake within their bounds, broken fingers be damned he still has another hand to use.

“Then fucking untie me,” He grouches, huffing out through his nose and attempting to push you away by shifting his legs. “If you like it so much, let me do it.”

You shake your head again, this time with your own pitied laugh.

“You’d kill me. I know you said you wouldn’t but you were just trying to get on my good side.” You coo out at him after your comment, ghosting your lips over his. “It must hurt pretty bad to know how pathetic you look right now.”

He very nearly spits at you for looking down on him with intent. Sure, before you probably looked down on him because he was literally dying. But now? This is a blatant insult, and he can’t help but feel some of that rage build up within him.

“Pathetic?” He laughs, staring down at the way your hips continue to move. “You’re the one getting yourself off on a man who would kill your boyfriend in an instant.”

“Do it then.” you say, unsure of why you’re suddenly so okay with the idea of murder. Maybe because if Yoongi did it, you know he’d probably be quick with it. He didn’t seem to take pleasure in describing such gory scenes to you, so clearly he must not like to savor them either. Not like Namjoon, who appears to favor giving others a long and painful death.

“Fuck,” Yoongi calls out, being entirely aroused by your willingness to tell him to kill your boyfriend. The thought of hurting him alone could get Yoongi off within seconds. The relief of killing the man who caused so much pain would be better than any orgasm or twelve hundred dollar bottle of wine.

“Say that again,” Yoongi groans, replaying those words you just said in his head. His own hips moving against you now. “Say it and I swear I’ll kill him when I get out of here.”

You don’t comment at first. “when I get out of here.” he said, as if he knows for a fact you’ll untie him. As if he trusts that you’re with him one hundred percent. Hell, at this point, maybe you are. Feeling so unsafe and so very aware of how dead you actually may become, fighting to keep yourself alive is easier to swallow than letting your own boyfriend kill you for betraying him. Fight or flight, the brain works so strangely when it needs to survive.

“Do it,” You repeat, hearing his breath hitch in an embarrassing way. “I bet you would, wouldn’t you?”

He nods proudly, still writhing his arms and wanting so badly to be free, not even to escape at this point, but to hold onto your waist and feel more of that pain you offer to him.

“Fucking untie me.” He demands, legs shaking as he continues to try and chase the rhythm of your harsh grinding hips. “You think I’d kill you when you’re talking to me like this?”

“I think you would.” You laugh, now pulling back off of his lap and standing to your feet in front of him.

You look down at him, his cock towering in his dirty jeans. For some reason, you’re not disgusted by the fact that he’s filthy. You’re more disgusted with the idea of going home and smelling the shampoo Namjoon uses to wash the blood out of his hair.

“I wouldn't.” He repeats himself, now moving back and forth in his chair to try and unbind his hands much like he did the first night he was here. “If i planned on killing you, i’d fuck you first anyway.”

You narrow your eyes, watching him try to break free before you lunge forward and lean over him again. Much like before, you grab his face and force him to look into your eyes.

“I’m not untying you.” You say sternly, as if to warn him that it’s the final time you’ll say it. “You have two days left, and I’m not coming back after this.”

“I know.” He admits, bucking his hips up at nothing. “So, if you could just pull my dick out and get to it, I'd really appreciate it.”

You poke your tongue to your cheek again, wondering how the fuck this man manages to stay so confident in such a position. You wonder even harder why you listen to him.

Just as he asked, you lower yourself to your knees and lay your head on his knee. For a moment, he watches you and understands why Namjoon must like you so much. You’re pretty down there, with playful eyes even in the face of death. You’re definitely something else. One, for ending up with Namjoon, and two, for ending up in this room with him like this.

“I think you could probably drive anyone insane,” Yoongi says in a voice that seems too soft for him. “If he’s really stupid enough to kill you for giving him the chance to kill me again, he’s a lot more dumb than I expected.”

You smile, blinking up at his compliment.

“Thank you.” You say, feeling so lost in this situation that at this point, you feel like you’d rather just stay here and let Jungkook find you both two days from now. It’s a fucked up situation on all ends, but at least you feel okay right now, with your chin resting on a killer’s knee, glancing at his cock, wondering how you want to pleasure it.

He stops talking by this point, bucking his hips to encourage you to stop staring and pull it out. The sound of his clothing rubbing against that old wooden chair suddenly feels loud, and your ears begin to ring as your heart picks up.

There is a specific realization in this moment regarding all of that humanity that drove you to this point. Helping this man is one thing, but wanting him is something completely different. In your head, you question everything you feel at this moment. Are you chasing comfort from none other than, and he was right to say it, the most wanted man in the country? More wanted than Namjoon? Perhaps that’s because Namjoon has other’s do his dirty work though. Yoongi appears to kill personally, and quickly. It’s no wonder he got caught by the gang you call family.

You remember being told that they got him, and that he was to be killed. You remember mocking Namjoon, complaining that you wouldn’t believe it until you saw him. You remember Jungkook sitting in the driver’s side of the car and driving you here for the first time, and you remember that one of your first thoughts about Yoongi was that he didn’t look much like a gang leader lying on the floor like that. You thought he was cute, almost puppy like in his defiance.

When he spilled all of those truths about Namjoon and the men and women you are surrounded with, you did lean more into Yoongi than the people who claim to love you. You didn’t know why you kept him alive, you didn’t know why you betrayed those you love. If anything, you know now that is was simply humanity.

Something that you cling to, and something that the majority of people around you have thrown away. When you look at Yoongi though, alive because of you, you see his humanity too. There is a fire in his eye that doesn't sing out for rage and blood, no. It’s a look you couldn’t find in Namjoon’s eye just a day before. Humanity brought you to save this man, and it also brought you to find him attractive despite his state, and it also brought you to this. Wanting him.

Wanting to comfort him from those atrocities your boyfriend committed toward him, because you can defend why Yoongi killed the man who once brought you a cake for your birthday. You wanted to keep him alive because somehow, in your gut, you knew he didn’t deserve to die this way.

And now, so terrified of what this situation might bring, you’re turned on by fear. The arousal of him talking so much shit, complimenting you through insults, looking at you in a way Namjoon never did drives a distinct type of butterfly within your belly. You fear every single person outside of this room, but Yoongi. You want him to yourself.

Yoongi watches you against his knee, seemingly in deep thought as your face falls and lightens up with realization. He finds himself smiling at the situation. He was really quite lucky for Namjoon to be dating such a woman. If he hadn't been, surely he would be dead and limp in the corner, rotting until his body is hidden elsewhere two days from now. But he’s not, his heart is beating and his cock is raging much like the hate in his heart for the men who seemed to have claimed you.

Don’t get him wrong though, it’s not that he likes you in the way Namjoon seems to. He gets why he does though. The fact of the matter is that you put yourself in a terrifying situation to keep him alive for no reason that has truly been given. It’s natural for him to owe you now, and what he owes you is nothing short of his own life for putting yourself in the line of fire like this.

Yoongi does like you though. Likes the way you look at death the same way he does, being reckless and making mistakes despite clearly having some sort of intelligence. His attraction to you comes in the form that you’re a woman, you’re Namjoon’s woman, you’re attractive, and you really did give him his life back. Even still restrained, he’s turned on beyond belief. Never having been put in a situation where he fucks the inevitable out of his mind, but it’s exactly what he intends to do.

Not just to spite Kim Namjoon, but also to somehow repay you. You got on top of him, you kissed him, and if you want to fuck the life of out him, he owes you that much too. At least when you leave him here, if you leave him here, he knows that he made you feel good too.

“Well?” He finally says, pulling you out of your drifting thoughts and making your eyes shoot back up to him. “You just gonna look at it or?”

You blink twice before glancing back down at his cock and feel the resolve within you strengthen. Your mind is suddenly so clear when you reach forward and unbutton his pants, sliding them down his legs and completely off of him.

You gasp when you see how bruised his legs are, realizing that you were just sitting directly on them. Thankfully, again, they’re not broken but you can imagine the weakness he feels.

“Oh.” You breathe out, letting your fingers ghost over one of the deepest and darkest bruises. Shaped like a boot and showing a pattern that looks very similar to the pair of boots your boyfriend wears. You watch him wince at the energy of your fingers, not even touching the spot but simply close enough to still somehow manage to hurt him.

“I’ve had worse,” he urges you, leaning forward a bit and looking at you. “What, you think I can’t handle a couple of bruises?”

You look up at him, trying to push the range of colors against his skin out of your mind as your eyes land and focus back between his legs. Not surprising that it can distract you almost instantly as it stands against the last remaining restraining fabric.

His hips buck up when he sees your hands go for the waistband of his underwear, licking his lower lip with a silent chant in his head of yes, yes, yes! Perhaps it’s because he lost his mind, but it’s really not such a bad deal to be able to get so turned on in a situation like this. After all, he owes you, so he might as well get into it, right?

When you pull off his underwear, instantly you’re just staring. In awe that he can manage to be turned on at all right now, ultimately quite happy that it still works too.

“I bet all the girls love getting fucked by you.” You comment, staring at his cock and the way it stands more lively than the rest of his body.

“On the contrary babe. I don’t fuck just anyone.” He chuckles snidely, looking down at the way your eyes swallow him up. “If I’m fucking someone, only I’m fucking her.”

“Lucky her, bet you go for the pretty ones too.”

“You misunderstand me,” he chuckles softly, his cock twitching at the way your energy changed once you got a good look at it. “If I fuck her, she’s only fucking me.”

You pause, noting another lack of similarity between Yoongi and your boyfriend. Namjoon fucks other women, sometimes in just a room over from you. Part of you wishes he was as possessive as the man before you on all fronts. Enough to kill a man for you like Yoongi did, enough to starve and suffer in a room for protecting you.

“What happens when Namjoon gets his hands on me again, then?”

“He won’t be able to once I’m done with you.”

You pause, unsure if that’s a threat on your life or a threat for a good time. The gamble is the same either way, so you offer him a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” You ask, leaning forward and tip toeing your fingers up his length.

“You wouldn’t want him to fuck you.” He says snidely, shivering at your touch. “Let me show you what it’s like to actually get fucked.”

You breathe in deeply, pupils blowing out at the sound of those words. It only takes a moment to stand up and place yourself back on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking directly into his eyes.

“Is that a promise?” You say, eyes burning in delight and ignoring the wince of pain that trembles through his body. “You think you can fuck me better?”

He smirks and nods his head, pushing his cock forward as his legs start to go numb under your weight. He’s no longer uncomfortable, thinking with only one part of his body.

“Let me,” He says, trying to show his dominance despite being restrained. “Sit on it and see, babe.”

You chuckle silently, lifting up on his lap and internally apologizing for the way your legs squeeze his thighs, he doesn’t react though. You snake your hands under your skirt to push your panties to the side and have no qualms with grabbing his cock and positioning it right where it needs to be.

Yoongi shivers at the feeling of your hand grasping him, and the image of your eyes not leaving his when you do it. For once in his life, he is feeling so out of control, owing someone else, all while being pleasured? Honestly, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time in captivity.

“Sit.” He says in a demanding way, feeling the way you hover over him and make attempts to tease the pleasure.

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do.” You laugh, still somehow following his order and sliding down just an inch and releasing a breath.

He hums at it, holding his own pleasure in and watching you attempt to control yourself just through the small amount of cock he’s got in you.

“Untie me, I’ll take care of you.” He tries to reason with you again, bucking his hips up and plunging another few inches against your aching walls. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod, dropping your head to his shoulder as you brace yourself against the chair behind him. Slowly sinking down and adjusting to a size that isn’t what you’re accustomed to. And when you finally sit flush against his thighs, you spread your legs to offer him some relief and clench your pussy around him.

“Untie me,” he says again, thrusting his hips up beneath your weight and trying to force in more of him despite having no more to offer. “Fuck.”

You ignore his words and his chasing hips as your pussy hugs his length. You feel so full, so satisfied by his size inside of you. When he tries to fuck up, he doesn’t go far but the tight fit burns in a way that feels more arousing than you could have ever expected.

“You must hate being tied up,” You chuckle, finally moving your hips just a bit to relieve yourself of a bit of his length. “How does it feel to be at a woman’s mercy?”

Yoongi glares at you when you say those words, pressing up and struggling with his strength as he tries to force those few inches back into you.

“How does it feel?” He repeats the question to you. “I could be fucking the light out of your eyes right now if you’d just let me.”

You almost consider it, wondering what his working hand would feel like pressing against your skin. The other, too swollen and likely too painful to touch you. You’d still play with those fingers though, because the only way you can get a decent moan out of him is if he’s hurting.

“The light already left my eyes, Yoongi.” You say.

He doesn’t hear a word of it outside of you using his first name again. He rolls his eyes at you, dropping his head back in a frustrated groan at how he’s both getting what he wants, but also not.

“No, your eyes are still shining.” He says when he lifts his head back up to face you, and you pull back a bit, rolling your hips before finally lifting again to actually start riding him.

“So are yours.” You say, looking straight into them and smiling.

He doesn’t believe you, but the sensation of how wet you seem to be definitely would have any man’s eyes shining.

“How does it feel?” You comment, noticing the shiver that runs down his body and his heaving chest.

“Fucking tight.” He grimaces, “I’d keep you all to myself. Namjoon is a stupid, stupid man for letting you come here.”

“He’s a specific type of man,” You correct him, hovering over his lips. “Doesn’t even eat my pussy.”

“Goddamn, untie me.” Yoongi very nearly pleads, feeling the intensity of how your walls cling to him.

He’s aching so much. He’s so fucking angry, and yet, he really is about to beg for you to release him. Not to run, not to kill you, but to pleasure you.

You still ignore him, ghosting your lips over his and watching his eyes droop into a drowsy stare at you. You were right when you said his eyes were shining, even like this, they are. You could argue that he feels good, you could argue that if you untied him, maybe he really would fuck you better than Namjoon does.

“I bet you’d kill to have your hands on me right now, wouldn’t you?”

Yoongi nods brokenly, still trying to buck his hips up to make good on his promise, and still being met with frustration bubbling inside of him. He’s too restrained for this, his heart has grown soft at this ego blow, and yet, his cock still yearns inside of you.

“I would.” He admits, his voice so broken sounding that you almost feel as if you’ve pushed him to his limit.

“You’d eat me out too, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck yeah I would.” He admits again, this time seeming more determined as he starts to move his hands again in an attempt to free himself. “Let me.” He seethes out through a clenched jaw.

You ignore him.

“Let me.” He says again, this time in a half moan when you move your hips with more intent.

“If you make it out of here alive, I’ll let you.” You moan yourself, sliding back and forth against him, swirling your hips and feeling his weeping cock stretch you out even more.

“You’re fucking insane.” Yoongi groans, tensing his muscles to offer more support for your languid grinding. “Fucking me so slow, making promises you know you can’t keep.”

“I’ll keep them,” You say, lowering your face to his neck and reaching your hands behind him, rubbing against his arms. “You’re giving me so much power right now, it’s hard not to savor it.”

He chuckles at your boldness, once again leaning his head back against the chair and allowing himself to relish in the feeling of the way you ride him.

“If I make it out of here alive, I’m going to look him in the eye and tell him how wet and needy this pussy is for me.”

“You’re so honest,” you laugh, picking up pace and fiddling with the binds on his hands. “That’s why I’m not going to untie you.”

“Faster,” he groans, imagining that he has healthy and free hands, guiding your hips on him. If he’s going to have to be like this though, the least he can do is try and guide you to the pace he should be fucking you at in this moment. “I want to hear how wet you are.”

You smirk, pulling your hands back and grabbing his face. His cheeks are fuller now compared to that night you came to bring him his life back, and they look plush when you squeeze them and force his eyes to stay on you.

“Faster?” You ask, already pistoning your hips against him, the chair creaking and threatening to break under the weight the two of you offer. “Harder?” You ask, his eyes burning straight through you as if you’d be daring him to kill you if you don’t.

He’s pleased by your pace, falling into a world of arousal in his head as you ride him exactly how he wants it. He can hear the wetness seeping out of you, and the best part is that it’s for him and not that pompous asshole who nearly killed him.

You bounce, fast and hard, drilling his cock so deeply into you that he finally releases a moan of pleasure right against your lips before rolling his eyes back and giving in.

“Fuck, you do this for him, too?” He asks, eyes rolling back to look at you and the way the determination in your eyes only grows.

“No,” You say out of breath, keeping that same pace and hiccupping with small moans each time. “He never lets me ride him”

“Won’t eat you out, won’t let you ride him.” Yoongi mocks him, freely moaning now as you take him for all he’s worth. Which isn’t much at this point. “I’d worship you.”

You pause your movements, out of breath as you look at him. You glance down to his smiling lips, and then back up at his eyes.

“I’d let you.” You say shortly, kissing him once again and returning back to your slow movements, pumping his cock inside of you so tightly that he fears this will end too quickly.

And it does, when you feel his tongue tense up in your mouth and he starts kissing you harder. His harsh voice releases whimpers and breaths into your throat. The sounds coming from him are unintentional and entirely too arousing to ignore. You can feel his length twitching aggressively inside of you, and you feel more full than you ever thought you could. You ride it out for him, giving him quick jerks of your hips to drag that sensitivity on as he finishes what you started.

And then it’s silent, but he’s still kissing you.

“Then let me.” He says once you part your lips, still holding him inside of you, and not daring to move a muscle.

You stay with him for a long while, torturing him in a way he finds himself loving by the time the sun rises and he now only has one day on this earth to live. You had spread yourself out on him, gotten him off twice, and then promptly moved him from the chair to get him on his knees.

It was the first time since you’d been with Namjoon that you felt a tongue against your clit, breaking your own promise of letting if happen if he gets out of this situation. Arguably, you felt like you fell into this hole with Yoongi far too deep to even consider crawling out of it. He ate you like he was still starving, smirking as you swirled your needy clit against his tongue. He was eager to take the parts of you that Namjoon never wanted, it seems.

And when the daylight rose and you were still here, panic sat in. You were filled with a man’s cum that isn’t your boyfriend’s. Your legs were arguably as weak as Yoongi’s, and you knew for a fact that your family was already wondering where you were. One of the cars would be missing, you’d be missing.

“What?” Yoongi asks, watching you in horror at the sudden shift of mood. Your face twisting in panic as you start to breathe heavily.

“I can’t.” You say shortly, scooting back further from him. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

Yoongi picks up quickly on what you’re referring to. He knew this night had to come to an end though, and he knows for a fact that at least you got to experience him for who he truly is, and not the rabid criminal Namjoon seems to believe he is.

“Probably because you know Namjoon is going to mail your head to the police?” He laughs, sighing in defeat.

That is, until you stand up and walk behind him.

Instantly he feels the tight bind against his wrists loosen and now, he can look at the damage. His broken fingers aren’t twisted, and his wrists actually hurt more than they do. He turns to look at you as you stand there, struggling not to cry.

Honestly, he’s a bit frozen in place before he tries to stand. His legs buckle from the lack of use and from your weight on them, but he manages to balance himself and slowly take a step toward you with a look of appreciation.

“Why did you do that?” He asks, trying to balance himself but feeling his legs give in instantly. He crumbles to the ground with a pained groan. Embarrassed by his nudity and lack of strength.

You didn’t run, nor did you hide after you untied him. What you did do though, is set him free from this situation. He can leave now, and if he needs to, he can take you with him.

“Are you stupid?” He asks through his pain, standing again and internally forcing himself to walk. “Go on, run back to him.” He raises his voice.

You shake your head.

“I’m dead either way.” You say with a shaking voice, feeling a pit in your stomach still bubble with arousal but the reality hit you far too late.

“You saved my life and you’ve now given me a chance to fucking run. You think I’m going to let you die?” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Technically, it should be normal for a person to react this way, but Yoongi is a killer too. It’s not like you expect anything more from him, nor from Namjoon at this point when he ultimately learns that you’re the one who did this.

“If you want me to kill you so bad, I’d be happy to do it so you don’t have to fucking suffer but–” Yoongi goes silent for a moment, contemplating the position that he’s about to put himself in.

As if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, it couldn’t hurt much more than it already will.

“You could come with me. My men will protect you for keeping me alive. You’d be untouchable.”

You look at him, seemingly unsure at first.

“He’s probably already out looking for me.” You say in a smaller voice than before. “He’d know it was you.”

“No shit. Either you’re coming with me or not.” Yoongi deadpans, standing as still as he can so he doesn’t tumble over to the ground again.

You shrug in defeat, nothing left to say.

And then you’re getting into your car after the struggle and helping your enemy escape. He’s in the back seat, smiling up as he focuses his eyes outside.

“If you drive me straight to him, you know he’d probably forgive you, right?”

You ignore him, finding more comfort in the fact that he’d kill you for this.

“Just tell me where to go.”

#bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut

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cravetive · 3 months

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𝘾𝙍𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦'𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳: 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥.

-𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩-

| 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 |

A friend of A friend |

[ Gangster! Jungkook x Reader ]

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳.

𝘊𝘩. 1 | 𝘊𝘩. 2 | 𝘊𝘩. 3 | 𝘊𝘩. 4 | 𝘊𝘩. 5 | 𝘊𝘩. 6 | 𝘊𝘩. 7 | 𝘊𝘩. 8

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴…

Confined |

[ Neighbor! Jungkook x Reader ]

𝘠/𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘵𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘤 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵-𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

| 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧 |

The Mess We Leave Behind |

[Namjoon! x Reader! ] [ Jimin x Reader!]

𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺.

𝘗1 | 𝘗2

| 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢 |

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴…

| 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 |

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴…

| 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧 |

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴…

| 𝐉𝐢𝐧 |

When It Rains |

[ Meteorologist! Jin x Reader ]

𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘬𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

| 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 |

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴…

#bts fanfic #bts masterlist #bts masterpost #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts x you #bts x reader

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oddinary4bts · 11 months

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Love is a Laserquest | choi san

☆summary: years after your break-up, Choi San comes to you for help. In an attempt to save his life, you escape to your uncle's cabin in the woods far from civilization. Will nostalgia and longing make you fall again, or is Choi San just spinning more lies to you?

☆pairing: gangster!Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: gangster au, exes au, angst, smut, a smidge of the one bed trope

☆warnings: guns/gun violence (mentioned), knifes/stabbing (mentioned), a bounty over San's head, death of a minor character (named Jungkook my bad), blood, injuries, stitches, probably some wrong medical terminology bc optometrists don't stitch up people lmao, a panic attack, cursing, pet names, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving) -> face riding, let me know if I forgot any!

☆word count: 16.5k

☆a/n: Here's my submission for Outlaw: The Project hosted by @ssaboala. It is coincidentally my first time posting about another group than bts, so I hope this won't disappoint! I really enjoyed writing it (even though it's really sad oop). Also my first time making a moodboard so hopefully it works haha

☆a/n pt2: thank you to @moonleeai for being my ever-so faithful beta reader, love you lots <3

☆☆☆☆☆

And do you still think love is a Laserquest? Or do you take it all more seriously? I’ve tried to ask you this in some daydreams that I’ve had But you’re always busy being make-believe

Love is a Laserquest – Arctic Monkeys

☆☆☆☆☆

The diner is silent, unoccupied. It always is on late weekday evenings, when most patrons have gone to bed, the city falling under a carpet of hushed silence only night can bring forth. It makes the diner feel like it’s straight out of a 70s movie, and it makes for the perfect study sessions too.

Night isn’t always soundless in your part of town. Hence why you’ve been trying to escape, pursuing an education that has been leaving you penniless, but with a bright future ahead. If you make it out of med school at a certain point, that is.

Tonight, you fear the peace that night usually entails has been ruined for you – there were gunshots earlier, close enough for you to see the police cars racing past as the law officers made it to probably yet another gang fight.

There’s been a gang war on your side of town. The diner has always been safe, a refuge for both sides of the war, where they aren’t allowed to fight. To carry in weapons and hatred. No, the moment they cross the threshold of the diner, the gangsters become one family, sharing struggles that only poverty can cause.

You wipe a table clean before walking back towards the counter. Your open laptop waits for you, and you quickly read the study guide you’ve made for yourself, the cardiovascular system and its pathologies forming a maze in your mind that you’ve yet to decode. Luckily enough, you still have a week before the bloc ends and you have to take the exam.

Plenty of time to cram everything about the heart in your thick little skull, you’d say.

Your lips move in time with what you’re reading, attention solely focused on the bright screen when a thump is heard right outside the door. It startles you, and you turn around to see the empty street out of the glass door.

It takes you about ten seconds to notice the dark form sitting on the ground. They’re leaning against the door, head lolling to the side. You assume it must be someone that’s ended unhoused, something that happens far too often where you live.

You’ve always been kind. When you were younger, you were told your kindness would be your demise. Yet you’ve never been able to be anything but kind, even though sometimes it might put you at risk. So you can’t resist but walk to the front door, trying to push it open.

It’s useless – the weight of the person is keeping it tightly shut, though they do straighten a little, as if coming to their senses. They turn, and the moment their profile comes into view you’re brought back eight years in the past. To a time when the world was still a beautiful place, void of violence and cruelty. To a smile so sweet it made flowers blossom on your heart, and to eyes so sharp you knew they had read your soul.

Choi San is sitting outside the door, and the caked blood on his cheek tells you enough – he’s injured. He pushes away from the door before slowly getting up. He clutches his side as he does it, yet when he turns back towards you and faces your horrified eyes, he still offers you a smirk.

You push the door open, thinking about the years between then and now. You had dated him for a few months that had felt like forever, until you had realized in what kind of business he was getting involved with. You had tried to convince him to flee before it was too late, and he kept promising that he would.

Only he never did, hiding lies with beautiful words that made your teenage self swoon, until your parents had realized and forced you to break up. It had been a nasty break-up, filled with hatred and words you didn’t mean yet had needed to say for him to leave.

You remember breaking his heart like it was yesterday.

“Choi San,” you greet him, and when he lets go of his side, you notice blood on his hand.

Something runs cold inside of you, even though he still sports a smirk on his lips.

He says your name, bowing his head. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Months, in fact. Because he does come to the diner sometimes. He usually ignores you, and so do you, so it feels strange to have him speak to you. To hear his voice as his words are addressed to you.

“What…” you trail off, glancing down at the ripped fabric of his black tank top.

He’s got a mean cut on his ribs, and it’s only then that you truly realize that he’s badly injured. Because there’s more – one of his biceps has been sliced open too, though blood is barely oozing out of it in small rivulets. The blood on his cheek is from where you assume he’s been punched with rings, and there’s already an underlying bruise under his eye.

“Got beaten up,” he states the obvious, and you immediately open the door wider to let him in.

He limps in, heading towards the nearest booth, where he plops down and lets out a pained grunt. You make sure no one is outside before shutting the door and locking it, flipping the hanging sign on it so it says closed in case a patron decides to show up.

You take a few steps towards San, hands shaking slightly at your side. Because that’s a grown man, bleeding out on the leather seat of the booth, and his eyes are shut though he looks in pain. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You haven’t yet started your residency, haven’t really gone from theory to practice… Yet you’re studying to be a doctor, are you not?

“Why are you here?” you ask, though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he says, wincing as one of his eyes opens. He tilts his head to look towards you. “Word around the block says…” he pauses, takes a deep breath before continuing, “that you’re studying to be a doctor”.

So you are right. He’s here because he needs your help, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Why…” You look for words, and it takes you a moment to realize that it doesn’t matter.

For all the history between you and him, Choi San doesn’t deserve to bleed out to death on a cheap leather seat in a forgotten diner on the dangerous side of town.

He has the decency to chuckle at the start of your question, which only makes him wince in pain once again.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and it’s a little stupid because clearly, he’s in no state to move.

He doesn’t question it, and you run to the kitchen to thoroughly wash your hands and grab the first aid kit. At night, no cooks stay around, and you usually only reheat food if needed, which doesn’t really happen. You haven’t had any client coming in at night in weeks… until San, that is. So no one is there to see what is going on, which you reckon is a relief. Because you have no idea what’s going on.

You return to the booth where San is waiting, patiently. He’s clearly wiped his hand on his face because there’s fresh blood on his forehead, and you almost balk at the sight of it.

“What have you done?” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

It seems he’s still in sync with you because he still hears. “Got involved with the wrong crowd.”

You put the first aid kit down on the table, ignoring his eyes when they flutter open, and he rests his gaze on you.

“I don’t know if I can help you,” you say as you unzip the kit and throw it open. You spare his side a quick glance. “This looks like you’re going to need stitches.”

He makes an effort of looking down at himself, though it mostly fails as he doesn’t raise his head from the seat. “Right.”

You grab everything you think you might need – alcohol swabs to clean his skin, fresh linen to bandage his side and arm, and stuff for his cheek too. He carefully observes you, with that piercing gaze of his that used to make you go crazy inside when you were young and impressionable.

You vaguely motion at him, and he cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask. “I can’t reach you if you’re lying back like this.”

His pink tongue darts to wet his lips, and he nods curtly. “Let me…” he trails off, resting a bloody hand on the table while he grabs at the back of the booth to push himself up. It has new blood appearing on his side, and you quickly move towards him, putting some linen against it.

As if it’s going to do anything. He clearly needs stitches, and you’ve got nothing with you to stitch him up.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly as he’s finally sitting. You just keep the linen on his side, eyes a little wide.

Your gazes connect inevitably, and time slows. You think about how he used to smile, how his eyes used to hold a softness you haven’t had the chance to see again since he’s walked out of your life.

Or rather, since you kicked him out of your life.

“I don’t think I can help,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker to your lips.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” he admits, shame turning his features into a mask of regret. “They… If they find me, I’m dead.”

Dread fills every ounce of your being. “San, what have you been doing?”

He looks away from your insistent gaze, scoffing slightly. “You don’t want to know.”

He isn’t wrong; you genuinely don’t want to know. Because he means nothing good, even with all the memories you share with him.

“Is it going to put me in danger?” you ask, as he still obstinately avoids your gaze.

He seems to freeze in front of you, as if you’ve pressed pause to your favourite show. To avoid the awkwardness, you busy yourself with grabbing one of his hands so he can hold the linen in place before you start washing the cut on his arm. It’s not deep, but you’re pretty sure it’ll still leave a mean scar, especially considering he can’t go to the hospital.

The thought has a drop of cold sweat roll along your spine. People want him dead. People want Choi San, the man you know as a young, scared teenager just trying to find a way to make his life better, dead. You remember the innocence in his smile – has he smiled at all in the years apart?

“I should go,” he says flatly. He moves to stand, but you hold him down, two hands firmly placed on his shoulders. It makes him wince, and you quickly release your grip.

“Don’t,” you tell him. “Let me at least patch you up.”

His eyes shut again as his head hangs low. “I am so sorry.”

You don’t even know who he is apologizing to, or why he is. All you know is that it causes your heart to clench in your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you were younger, you believed San was your star-crossed lover. You believed your high school sweethearts romance would grow until you’d be old and grey and at the end of a very long road. You had dreamed of a future with him, the way only teenagers can dream – with no sense of reality. Because your reality had never been to end up by his side.

His choices had been proof enough of it.

You still remember the day you first kissed. Under an August meteor shower, with just the night sky as your witness. It had been hesitant, slow and soft, just like everything with San. And you had believed the lie, trusted it with every beat of your little heart, until your parents had found out the truth about him.

Until they had broken your heart, even before you had broken his.

If the stars had known then, what was going to happen to you and Choi San, would they still have shone through the night?

He lets out a pained sound as you gently dab at the cut on his bicep. You clean the skin around the wound in and of itself, and he watches you carefully, piercing gaze not missing how your face clouds with memories.

“How have you been doing?” he asks so softly you think his words are a gentle summer breeze on your features.

You can almost still smell the summer night air of that field where you had stargazed, where you’d always meet so long ago.

“I’ve been okay,” you answer, truthfully. Because even though you haven’t seen him, you have lived your life apart from him. Have evolved without him by your side. “Better than you, visibly.”

He didn’t expect the joke. It makes him snort, and then a soft smile grows on his lips, softening the edges of his hard features. “You haven’t changed.”

You have, and yet you haven’t. Like him, you think there’s a part of you that is still sixteen, and will forever be. A part of you that remained stuck in the moment when you watched him walk away in the rain, as if even the sky had to cry for his broken heart.

“Wish I could say the same about you,” you murmur, nostalgia a melancholic song in your words.

He chooses to remain silent, because the proof of how much he’s changed is sitting right in front of you, wounded and bleeding and hurt. The hurt is behind his eyes, in the shadows of the past that have also been obscuring your vision.

“Yeah,” he lets out, barely audible.

And then silence reigns between you, because as much as you once loved him, eight years have made you strangers. You don’t know anything about his life except the dirty, obvious darkness that surrounds him, and he doesn’t know anything except that you are studying to be a doctor…

Which leads you to wonder how does he know in the first place?

You ask him, as you’re wrapping the linen around his bicep to make a makeshift bandage. You’re proud of the result, though your fingers can’t resist but linger on the taut skin over his muscle, surprised at how soft it still is.

“I’ve heard you mention it,” he admits, as you take a step away to look at the material on the table, as if it’ll suddenly make stitches appear for you to put them in his skin. “One of the times I was here.”

“You never said hi,” you reproach him, unable to hide the ghost of a bite in your tone.

“Neither did you,” he points out, and he isn’t wrong.

All you can do is purse your lips as you finally decide to clean his skin. But for that, you have to rid him of his tank top, to make sure there’s no fabric in the wound. You look at him, cheeks somehow burning even though all you’re doing is taking care of a patient.

Though he’s not a patient, and you’re not in a hospital. You’re just a server at a dusty, old diner and he’s just your teenage lover, wounded by his dangerous actions.

“Should I grab scissors to remove your shirt?” you ask, though you’re speaking to yourself more than to him.

He still finds it in him to tease. “You want me out of my shirt?” he enquires, smirk gracing his lips again. “Say no more.”

He tries moving, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you warn. “You’ll make it bleed more.”

He purses his lips, because nodding. “Right.” He glances at the first aid kit, before his eyes trail to your face again. “You got scissors in that?”

There are. You grab them, before turning towards him. It feels strange: you’ve never undressed him before. You had always wanted to wait, back then, before you slept together. You believed you were too young, and San had always respected it.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” you tell him as you take a step closer to him.

He slightly leans back, furrowing his eyebrows. “What do you plan to do with those that might hurt?”

You roll your eyes, playfully, before taking the two other steps leading to right in front of his legs. You notice that they are slightly parted, allowing you to come closer, and you take a steadying breath before reaching between you, pulling at the fabric of his tank top.

“Stay still and you shouldn’t get hurt,” you whisper, ignoring the heaviness of his piercing gaze on you.

It burns right through you, and you have to tame the beats of your heart at the feeling of the warm skin of his shoulder against the back of your fingers as you bring your other hand forward, until you’ve started cutting his shirt.

It’s stuck to his side where blood has dried, and he winces but remains still and silent as you keep going, pulling on it a little harder to be able to cut. The moment stretches into infinity, because you can’t help but take your time. It reminds you of how you’d used to run your fingers on his back, under his shirt, when you napped in the field in the summertime. In an idyllic world where gangs and violence and war were mere inventions of the media, and not a reality that surrounded you.

You’d loved the field. The wildflowers, the open air, the way it was just you and him and a few lazy bumblebees as clouds lazily crossed the sky above. You were so young then, so innocent. Hands unstained from blood, from his blood.

Because as you cut, the hand touching his shirt stains with blood. You pale at the sight of it, but you keep going, pushing through until you’re done, gently pulling the fabric from his body until he’s sitting there, shirtless, with a long wound on his ribs.

You can’t help but notice his toned chest and the defined abs on his stomach. Though blood mars his skin, turning it into a piece of violence, Choi San is still beautiful. Beautiful in a dark, dangerous way that has you glance outside, making sure no one is looking.

But the streets are empty, void of life at this time of the night. At least, they mostly always are.

“You will need stitches,” you state again as if you both don’t know already.

“I can’t…”

An idea forms in your brain. It’s a stupid idea, and you don’t even know why it crosses your mind.

Your uncle has a hunting cabin far in the woods. He’s a nurse himself, and he’s always kept everything over there in case someone got injured and he had to stitch them up. You haven’t gone in forever, but you still remember the tall trees, the deep forest scent that reminds you of autumn and leaves and grey days spent reading by the fireplace.

You never went hunting, but you did accompany your father when he went, needing an escape from the city once in a while. An escape from a life that was slowly becoming too real.

Your uncle is currently halfway across the country, so you know you’d be alone at the cabin. You glance at your laptop over your shoulder – you have three days off in front of you before your next class on Monday. Indeed, the Friday class is pre-recorded and to watch online in your free time, and you figure you can always watch it some other time.

So you turn towards Choi San, almost surprised that he’s real and he’s still sitting in front of you, honey skin cut open on his ribs.

“I might know a place where you can go,” you admit, with a small voice, surprising both you and him. Because you doubt he expects you to want to help, after tonight.

“What?” he asks.

“My uncle’s cabin,” you remind him, because you’ve told him about it all those years ago. “He should have all that I need to stitch you up.”

San looks down at himself. “You’ve just cut my shirt open.”

It sounds a little dumbfounded, and you can’t help the nervous laugh that falls from your mouth. Because even though it doesn’t look too deep, the wound still is terrifying in and of itself.

“I’ll bandage it,” you whisper. “Before we go.”

He seems like he ponders for a time. You watch the debate across his features, his eyes falling to a spot on your chin. He looks sad, troubled and defeated. “I can’t… I can’t do this to you.”

You ignore his words, carefully washing his side. You avoid the cut and try to be as gentle as you can, but his muscles still flex as he clenches his fists from the pain.

He’s strong. That much hasn’t changed. Because he doesn’t make any sound as you finish washing him and then patch him up with those same careful hands. And when you move to his face, cleaning the blood, his eyes flutter shut, and he sighs softly.

He looks so much like he looked then that your heart aches, and you find yourself blinking away tears for this man who’s had it so rough he believed joining a gang would save him.

“I should have come to you before,” he murmurs. “You’re much gentler than Hongjoong.”

You don’t know the guy he mentioned, and you don’t feel like asking. Don’t feel like acknowledging his words, so you just finish with his cheek before stepping away from the peaceful aura that was treacherously pulling you in.

Like all those years ago, you reckon.

“Let me make a call,” you say, turning away from him as you move to the counter. You feel the weight of his eyes between your shoulder blades as you get your phone from next to your laptop. You call your boss, and as someone that’s never called in sick before, you feel anxiety flush through you.

Because you’re not sick. And how could you tell him that you need to take care of your ex-boyfriend of eight years ago?

Seokhyun picks up on the first ring, voice groggy with sleep when he mutters, “Hello?”

“Boss,” you greet him. You scrape your throat and spare a look towards San who’s watching you curiously. “An emergency came up, and I have to leave the diner.” You swallow the lump in your throat that’s formed from lying, and then you add, “There haven’t been any customers all night, so I was wondering… would you be comfortable with me closing for the rest of the night?”

Your boss says your name, a little reproachfully. But then he sighs, because he knows just as well as you what a good employee you’ve always been. “Are you going to be able to come in tomorrow night?” he asks.

You pull at dry skin on your bottom lip, assessing San’s state. You could always come back to the city for work…

“You know what, I know you’ve got that big exam coming up,” your boss says, sighing into the phone. “Why don’t you take the next week off so you can take care of your emergency and focus on your studies?”

If Seokhyun wasn’t a fifty-three year old married and father of three children man, you think you’d ask him to marry you right now.

“That would be really helpful,” you tell him, gratitude dripping from your voice. “Are you sure that won’t be a problem for the diner?”

“The diner won’t lose profit if it closes for three nights in the week,” he points out. “I’ll see if I can get you replaced for the evening shift on Sunday.”

You thank him again as he grumbles that it’s nothing. He wishes you good luck, and when the line goes silent, you finally meet San’s gaze again.

“All sorted out,” you tell him, offering him a nod. “Let me just close the diner, and then we can go.”

He nods, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He observes you as you do so, quickly closing the diner like you’ve done about a hundred times before, though this time you’re far more excited to go. You grab a plastic bag to put away the bloody swabs, and though he groans in pain, San gets up to help you clean the blood that stained the cheap leather of the booth.

Soon enough, you’re ready to go, and you walk outside with the plastic bag in one hand and your backpack on your shoulders as San chuckles, looking down at himself.

“Do you have a shirt for me?” he asks as he follows you out.

You lock the door behind you before glancing at him. He’s quite the sight, naked from the waist up and bandaged like he is, and you can’t help the small chuckle you let out as you glance towards your car, that’s luckily parked right in front.

Though it’s a deadbeat car, you trust it enough to know it’ll make the trip to your uncle’s cabin, even in the middle of the night.

“My ex left some sweaters on the back seat,” you admit as you unlock your car doors and open the trunk to put your backpack and the plastic bag in there. There’s no chance in hell you’ll leave a plastic bag full of bloody swabs near your work.

You see San nod from the periphery of your vision, and then he’s opening the door to the backseat. “Your ex, huh?” he mutters as he grabs a sweater you used to love wearing and that you haven’t convinced yourself to give back to Hyunmin.

He carefully puts it on, and you’re pretty sure just the motion is going to make blood seep through the bandage. Somehow, you don’t care that it might stain Hyunmin’s sweater.

Hyunmin was a cheater, and even though you never really loved him, it took you months before you found the strength to break up with him. Needless to say, he doesn’t deserve his clothes back.

“Yeah,” you flatly say as you move towards the driver’s seat. You sit, and San follows you, naturally, as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

As you turn the keys in the engine, San asks, “Have you dated a lot?”

You bristle at the question, shooting him an embarrassed look. “Have you?”

“No,” he replies, features fully serious.

You purse your lips, focusing on the road as you start driving. You need to put gas in the car if you want to get to your uncle’s cabin, so you make your way towards the closest one. It takes you a moment before you register how San has stiffened next to you.

“Can we…” he trails off, and he sinks in the seat, trying to hide. “I can’t be seen here.”

You immediately press on the accelerator, and your car speeds down the street as you pass in front of the gas station. You glance at San only when you’re stopped at a red light. He’s pulled the hood of the sweater over his features, and he’s doing his best to hide.

“Where can we stop?” you ask.

“Next town over,” he answers. “I just can’t be seen in Bangtan territory.”

Right. You have no knowledge of how the gangs have divided your city, but you’re not surprised Bangtan has this part of town. It’s the industrial area, and you assume there’s a lot of money to be made around here.

“Sounds good,” you gently say, and then you’re driving again, the light turning green, allowing you to speed away into the night.

You drive silently all the way to the next town, watching your city disappear to be replaced by trees until buildings reappear. San is looking outside the window, and you can’t help but wonder how he’s been doing, truly. How he managed to get injured like he is right now, and mostly, if his dreams of running away still occupy his thoughts.

He had begged you, the evening you had broken up with him. Told you he’d make enough money to be able to move with you across the country and build yourself a nice little life over there. You had wanted to believe him for so long, until your parents had opened your eyes on just how he was trying to make money.

“Do you need anything?” you ask as you finally reach the gas station, pulling into the driveway. You park next to a pump, turning to face him only to find him already watching you.

“I don’t have money to pay for food,” he admits. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I lost my wallet in the… altercation.”

You gently put a hand on his forearm. “Hey, my treat. We have to eat.”

He inhales deeply, letting out the breath slowly, before he nods. “Alright. I owe you.”

You reckon he’ll owe you for a lot more than just food at a gas station, but you choose not to say it. Not when you feel like someone’s watching over your shoulder, watching you drive away in the night with the person they are looking for.

You know it’s paranoia. No one followed you out of the city and into this town. It just feels too strange to have him here, with you. In your car, on the way to your uncle’s cabin, as if eight years have gone out the window. As if you can still be young and innocent.

It’s stupid, because you can’t. Time has changed him; time has changed you. And in just a few years you’ll be a doctor, and you’ll finally get out of this hellhole of a city, of its dangerous streets.

Of its equally dangerous man, that you know could probably pull you back in with one of his many well-crafted lies, one of the dreams he weaved expertly, whispering it into your ear.

You take a deep breath before getting out of the car. You go into the station, grab snacks for the next few days and then head to the counter. The guy behind nods as you approach, and you pay for the food and for gas before wishing him a good night and returning outside. San is still squatting in the car, clearly trying to hide, and you put the food on the backseat before putting gas in.

You watch his profile as you put gas in the car. Back when you were dating, his features weren’t as sharp, as glass-cutting as they now are. He used to sport a rounder face, but today you wonder if you’d get a papercut on his jaw. You wouldn’t even be surprised.

When you’re done with gas, you sit back next to him, and you quickly bring the engine back to life before pulling out in the street. As soon as you exit the city, darkness falls on the two of you, tall trees standing on the two sides of the road again. San doesn’t speak much, and it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s dozing off next to you.

“Hey, everything okay?” you ask, suddenly worried that he might have lost too much blood. Which, you reckon, you should have thought about earlier.

He sighs, glancing towards you. “Just tired.”

“Don’t…” you trail off. “Don’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles. “You’re afraid I’m going to die on you?”

“Choi San,” you warn. “Don’t you dare say stuff like that.”

He smiles, but you reckon he’s a little pale. Or at least you think he is, in the silver light of the moon up above. “I think I’m fine. Just…” He offers you a weak smile, though you’ve returned your attention on the winding road. “Just exhausted. I haven’t slept in three days.”

Worry clutches your heart, and you nibble at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “What’s been going on?”

He slightly shrugs. “I can’t tell you. I don’t want to put you in danger…”

“Am I not already in danger by just helping you?”

The silence is telling enough. And it remains for a while until San finally speaks.

“I was in a gunfight a week ago. Accidentally shot the youngest member of the other gang. He didn’t make it, and the gang has put a bounty on my head. Ateez took my gun and told me to run; I laughed in their face and said I wasn’t a coward. Then I got attacked by two guys with knives earlier, and I made it to the diner because I had nowhere else to go.”

Now the silence is deafening, heavy, and you think you’ve altogether stopped breathing. You’re struck with an image of San in the summer sun, smiling wide as he put a flower behind your ear, claiming you were the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The contrast with who he is now – a product of night, shrouded in darkness with no hint of that smile on his lips – is stark. And you wonder when’s the last time he has seen the sun, when’s the last time his life wasn’t violence like this.

When you say nothing, he scoffs, resting his head against the window as if it’d allow him to escape. Because clearly he wants to escape – he’s just told you that he’s killed someone after all.

And you don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to react to someone confessing murder. All you can do is stare at the street ahead, hoping you won’t end up in a gunfight with San. Because where would that lead you, other than in the dramatics of death?

You don’t speak for the rest of the ride. You don’t think he sleeps either, and dawn is clinging to the far horizon when you get to your uncle’s cabin, in a secluded forest that seems straight out of a fairytale. Instead of bringing you awe like it usually does, the sight of it makes you think of all the murder mysteries you had been obsessed with when you were younger, before you realized how horrible the real world truly is.

Neither of you move, as you turn off the engine of the car, and you fall into even more of a tensed silence, though this time you can hear the chirping of the early birds. It’s peaceful, so peaceful you can barely even grasp how tangible the presence of San is next to you. The presence of his actions too, looming between the two of you like a sword of Damocles.

You move first. Putting a hand on the knob, hoping to escape the heaviness into the dawn. San speaks before you can though, and your heart stops in your chest.

“I never meant for him to get hurt,” he murmurs, and you think he’s speaking to himself more than to you. “Everything went too fast, my gun was in my hand and I just… in situations like these, you don’t have time to think.” He leans his head against the headrest, eyes closing. “All I can picture since it’s happened is him falling and blood. Like a fucking blossoming rose, all around him.” He rests his closed fist on his forehead, rubbing it hard. “I haven’t been able to sleep; I’ve been sick every time I’ve tried to eat…”

“San,” you interrupt as you break and break for him. Because this is the San you know. This is the young boy that just wanted to escape and live in a better world. You can almost taste his remorse, taste his regret and shame. It’s poisonous, treacherous, a slippery slope that can’t lead anywhere good. “Let’s get you in. I want to get that cut on your ribs checked.”

He falls silent, and for a moment you feel guilty. Because what if he had more to say? You don’t even think you would have been able to listen. You need the escape, and you know he’ll permit it. Because the man next to you is a broken man, a fracture of what he could have been.

You step out of the car, blinking away tears – from the anxiety, from the exhaustion, and perhaps even from the pain you feel for him. He follows you, wincing as he swings his legs out of the car. He stumbles a little as he stands, but soon enough, he grows steady on his feet, and his attention moves to you. You climb the stairs of the cabin, lifting the rug to find the small trap that leads to the spare key. The padlock is rusted, but it stands strong as you put in the code, and a click is heard when you pull on it.

A few seconds later, you’ve unlocked the front door, pushing it open to reveal the cabin as you remember it. Not a single item is out of place, though dust covers everything, a clear indication that no one has been here in years. You let San in, before going back to the car to get the food you bought, bringing it in and putting it in the fridge. Three full gas canisters hide under the counter, and you sigh in relief – you’ll be able to get the generator on for some electricity.

You motion to the kitchen table. “Have a seat,” you tell San, who somehow looks like a lost puppy. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He nods, remaining silent, eyes downcast. You only move when he’s seated, heading to the bathroom area of the cabin, where you startle a spider that almost makes you scream out loud. You keep it in, heart beating out of your chest as you get the kit before moving back into the main area.

San is leaning against the chair, eyes closed. He senses you approaching, and one of his eyes cracks open to watch you carefully, a little like he did earlier, at the diner. It looks so similar to how he used to look at you, when you joined him at the field, that you stop in your tracks, heart squeezing once again.

You don’t like the way Choi San is making you feel, that’s for sure.

“Take off the sweater,” you tell him, putting the kit down on the table. You put some clean linen next to it, to put what you need over it, before washing your hands with the disinfectant you find in the kit. You put latex gloves on after, and then you fish wire and a surgical needle from the first aid kit that you carefully put down on the linen once you’ve torn the packages open.

As you were doing all of that, San took off the shirt, struggling a little as it meant he had to lift his right arm, which pulled at the skin of his ribs, where the cut clearly has started bleeding again. Though, if you’re honest to yourself, you’re pretty sure he’s been bleeding this whole time, even though it probably was just some fine rivulets.

Indeed, the cut isn’t all that deep, you remind yourself. Mostly because you don’t want to even think about the consequences of the blood loss. As long as he stays awake, you figure he’s fine – he would have lost consciousness a while ago if he was losing a lot of blood.

You remove the bandage you had carefully put in place earlier, wincing at the sight of the blood that’s seeped through it. San keeps his eyes close, lets you clean his skin again in peace, and you feel sick to your stomach as you realize you don’t have any anesthetics for the pain that stitching him up will cause. Indeed, the pocket in which your uncle usually leaves the lidocaine is empty, and you remember that he’s had to use it for your dad when he accidentally cut himself with a machete last summer.

“Huh,” you let out. You chuckle nervously. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

His eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw. “Don’t worry about it.”

You worry at your bottom lip, holding his gaze as you gauge if he’s serious. When his gaze doesn’t falter, you offer him a curt nod, before getting the wire and needle ready under his watchful eyes.

You hand him some linen. “To bite on,” you explain as he just cocks an eyebrow quizzically. That makes his gaze widen a little as if he’s just now realizing how serious you were about it hurting, but he takes it nonetheless.

You think about the theory of how to stitch someone up. It was in your previous block – you watched hours of videos of it in an attempt to desensitize yourself to it. You don’t think it compares to the real thing, but at least you’re somehow confident of what you’re doing when you start.

San startles, groaning in pain, and you offer him a glare. “Don’t move, or it’ll be worse.”

A drop of sweat rolls down his temple, but he still nods. Even as you keep on stitching him, he remains as still as he physically can, though you don’t think he even notices how he’s trembling. Or maybe that’s you – you don’t even know.

Somehow, you make it through the whole thing. You think San might have passed out at some point, but he’s wide awake when you finish the knot to keep the stitches in place, looking up to meet his face.

He’s panting and tears of pain wet his waterline. He blinks them away as he takes the linen out of his mouth, dropping it on the table.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“Let me…” you trail off, mind set on getting something to at least help him cool off, because he’s clearly been heating up.

You grab a washcloth and a small bucket, and head outside to walk down to the lake. You fill the bucket halfway, and take a few seconds to observe the calm surrounding you, hoping that it can ease the nerves rolling inside your heart like dark clouds do on the horizon whenever a storm is coming. You feel it in your bones – you have a murderer in your uncle’s cabin.

You have to keep that in mind. To not let Choi San in like you did when you were a young impressionable teenager.

You sigh, closing your eyes to breathe in the fresh morning air. The sun is peaking over the horizon now, and you bask in its hesitant rays for all of twenty seconds before you convince yourself to go back in. You’ve got a patient to take care of, after all.

San hasn’t moved an inch while you were outside. The only indication that he hasn’t died on you is the groan he lets out as you put the wet washcloth on his forehead. You tap his cheek gently, as if to say, ‘suck it up, I’m just trying to take care of you’.

Which is exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?

You watch him carefully for a few seconds before tapping his shoulder this time around.

“There’s a bed,” you remind him. “You’d be better passing out in a bed.”

He groans again, cracking an eye open. “I’ve just been repeatedly poked with a needle,” he drawls. “Give me a second.”

It makes you laugh. Because of the nerves, maybe. You’re not quite sure. All you know is that you’re laughing, and San opens his second eye to look at you as if you’re crazy. And you laugh for longer than you should – you’re exhausted after all, especially considering you haven’t slept since yesterday morning. So far, adrenaline has been keeping you going, but you can tell you’re about to crash.

“Sorry,” you apologize once you calm down. “This has just been…”

“A lot,” San finishes for you. “I know.”

You nod once before glancing at the doorway to the bedroom. It has no door, as your uncle and your dad usually come here alone and they don’t mind sharing a bed. It makes you realize that you’ll have to share it with San, which you reckon you should have thought about before. Because there’s no way in hell you’ll share a bed with him, especially after he’s told you why he’s being hunted.

There’s always the option of going into town later today so you can get a sleeping bag and floor mat to sleep on. But you’re far too tired right now to even consider driving, so you motion to the bed once again.

“Stick to your side; I’ll stick to mine.”

He smirks though he’s extremely pale. A lot paler than he was before, and you swallow a sudden lump in your throat. Because what if he dies? What are you supposed to do with him if he dies?

“You’ll have to help me to get to the bed ‘cause I don’t think I can move,” he says once his smirk dies. He curses under his breath. “I’m so pathetic.”

You put your hand on his shoulder again, reassuringly, eyes holding his. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re hurt. Everyone is pathetic when they’re hurt.”

He gulps before nodding once. It takes everything in you not to offer him more comfort because you feel like the slope would tilt forwards far too much if you did. Instead, you help him to get up, wincing as he puts most of his weight on you, clutching his side with one hand. You’re infinitely aware of how his skin is sticky with sweat, but you ignore it as you slowly walk to the bedroom.

You can only hope the stitches will hold because you don’t think he’d be able to withstand another round of them.

You finally reach the bedroom and help San sit on the side of the bed. He sighs, eyes shut tightly, and he doesn’t move for a time. When he does, it’s to stiffly lie down on his side.

“You might want to sleep on your back,” you inform him. “I don’t want you rolling around and messing up the stitches.”

He glares at you, though he looks like he’s already half out of it. You hold his gaze until he gives in, turning on his back with a deep sigh. You arrange pillows around him to make sure he’s not moving, and by the time you’re done, his breathing has already evened out.

For a moment, you just watch him sleep. You see him in the field where young love blossomed like a trillion wildflowers. You can almost breathe his pollen again, can almost feel the softness of his skin under your fingertips.

But he’s not what he used to be. Back then, you felt like you had discovered something new. Love, infatuation, affection, and desire, all in the form of the man sleeping next to you. You’d used to kiss, dance and sing to a song only your souls knew, and now you don’t think you recognize him anymore.

As much as he is him, he’s also but just the ghost of what he was. He’s trouble, danger in the shape of innocence, and you recall his words from earlier. You recall the despair, the regret and sorrow that haunted him after he told you. You can’t let him get to your head.

You reckon sleep might help. Though you’re afraid he’s going to waste away in his sleep, so you set up an alarm every hour, before climbing on the other side of the bed. You don’t pull on the covers, mostly because the cabin is warm, and you can imagine it’s just going to get hotter as the sun goes up and the summer heat slowly sizzles into the countryside.

It’s a good thing you put an alarm on. Because when it rings an hour later, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You’re pretty sure the second your head touched the mattress, you were out to the land of dreams. You groan, mostly because you’ve got a slight headache, but you power through it to make sure San is still breathing.

When you see his chest moving up and down steadily, you let yourself fall back asleep.

This goes on for the whole morning, and you only force yourself to stay up when your phone shows that it’s passed noon. As you had suspected earlier, the cabin has gotten extremely warm, so you force yourself out of bed to open all the windows, and then you use the washcloth from earlier to gently wash San’s face of the sweat.

He doesn’t even flinch in his sleep, but he’s still breathing and for now, that’s all that matters.

You head back to the main room, grabbing a pack of chips from where you had left the food earlier, and then you move outside to sit by the lake. Mostly because you need to put distance between you and San, but also just because the childhood memories of this place have you in their hold, and they’ve decided to make you miss the times when you’d swim around with your cousins before both of them had moved out of town.

One day, it’s going to be you too. You already know where you’d go – on the other side of the country, as far away from here as possible. You just want to forget all about the place you grew up in, and you know that, in a few years, you will have forgotten.

Though you’re pretty sure a certain piercing gaze will haunt you forever, especially after the events of today.

When another hour passes, you head back inside, putting the empty bag of chips in the trash before you check up on San. He’s still asleep, but this time he doesn’t look as pale as he did earlier. You assume it’s going to take him a while before he wakes, so you head to the nearest town to grab more food. Mostly to busy yourself, but also just because you know San will need a place to hide for a lot longer than just the weekend. Might as well make sure you have enough for him to survive a couple of days. In town, you also stop to eat at a small café on a small terrasse in the shade of a few trees, and then you grab the food you think you might need at the grocery store.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when you get back, realizing that you forgot to buy a floor mat. As you spy San, who hasn’t moved an inch since he’s fallen asleep, you figure that sleeping next to him tonight should be fine.

As long as his presence in your vicinity doesn’t drag you down memory lane again.

You bought some meat in town, so you head to the little shack outside where the generator is hiding. There’s a gas canister right next to it – also full – and you busy yourself for the next twenty minutes trying to figure out how to get it started. When it finally rumbles to life, you head back inside to put the meat in the fridge, which has finally come to life.

When you hear a groan, you quickly jog to San’s side, fully expecting to find him awake. Surprisingly, he’s still asleep, and you stay next to him for a full minute, thinking he might groan again, though he remains entirely silent.

If it wasn’t for his chest moving up and down steadily, you’d believe him to be dead. But now that a few hours have passed, you’re pretty positive he’ll make it, though he’s probably going to sleep through the day and possibly through the next one too.

Which leaves you in the most peaceful atmosphere you’ve been in for a while, with the opportunity to study as you listen to the rush of wind in the leaves of the tall trees surrounding the cabin. You sit outside, this time near the fireplace, and you study until your stomach grumbles, indicating that it is time for you to cook.

You cook the meat you’ve bought on the grill outside, feeling thankful that your dad once showed you how to use it. You go back in to grab a bottle of water before you eat, and you’re bent in the fridge when you hear San moan again, and this time it sounds like he’s saying something.

You gently close the fridge, making your way to the bedroom. San hasn’t moved, but his features are creased in a frown, and sweat is rolling down his temples. You wet the washcloth, gently wipe his face, and you’re about to leave when he moans again.

It takes you far too long to realize he’s apologizing. What for, you can’t really tell. Though you remember his troubled eyes this morning, you remember his story, and your heart breaks in your chest.

He’s haunted. You think the ghost of the dead guy will probably haunt him for the rest of his life. And suddenly you’re struck thinking maybe, maybe if you hadn’t broken his heart all those years ago, you could have saved him from the gang.

Maybe you could have opened his eyes.

You still remember the break-up like it was yesterday. You remember the rain, him leaving without once looking back, but mostly you remember the words you had uttered. Ghosts of their own, that feel more real now that he’s come back into your life.

*****

“You’re going to get hurt!” you yelled. “You’ll get hurt, San. What are you thinking?”

He scoffed, shaking his head, and little droplets of water shot all around him. “I’ll be careful. We need the money if we ever want to make it out of this shit town.”

You blinked away tears, folding your arms on your chest as you tried to keep your heart from breaking. Though you reckoned it had broken when your parents had told you what they knew about San. When your father had mentioned Ateez, and you’d truly realized what it meant that he was part of a gang. San, your sweet, soft, and bubbly San, in a gang that had murdered someone just a few weeks ago.

“But that’s not a way to make money!” you screamed, hoping he’d understand. Hoping he’d hear the truth in your words, hoping he’d change his mind before it was too late. “Why don’t you get a part-time job, like me? Then we can go to college and get jobs in a nice city on the other side of the country!”

“It won’t work,” he drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want to be out soon, not in a few years. I barely even have a roof over my head, Y/n…”

“Come live with me,” you choked out around the lump in your throat.

You both knew fully well that your parents would never let him come near you again.

“I can’t.”

You cried, hiding your face in your hands. You cried thinking of the field where you usually met, thinking about its beauty now fading into ugliness. You thought about the wildflowers, withered and dead as autumn had come. You thought about how you were convinced you knew what love was.

“What’s the point?” you asked then. “What’s the point of putting your life in danger? Life isn’t some sort of a game, Choi San. Worse, what if you have to hurt someone? Do you think you’ll be able to pull the trigger?”

He clenched his jaw, hard. “Do me a favour and stop asking questions.”

You closed your eyes, feeling sick to your stomach. Because it couldn’t be. Not San. Not your smiley San, who’d always weave dandelions crowns with you, as you’d pretend you were a queen and a king of that field you had found. An empty field, an abandoned farmland that was just yours and his to explore. That had been home to your first kiss, and all of those that had followed.

Now you wondered why he had always wanted to meet there in the first place. Was he trying to hide?

"If you love me, you’ll get out while you still can,” you said as your tears suddenly ended.

There was a weird sense of clarity in you, suddenly. You remembered the day you had fallen in love, the moment you had first kissed. You remembered the stars in the sky above, the meteors falling for the two of you. You remembered the music on the radio you had brought. Some Arctic Monkeys song about heartbreak, about moving on and failing to do so. As a joke, when it had ended, you had asked San, “Do you think love is a laserquest?”

His answer had been cryptic, mysterious, things that had made you believe he was the one. “Maybe. Maybe it is, and I’ve shot you in the back while you weren’t looking. Maybe I’m that annoying player that won’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll never find you annoying,” you had replied.

But today, watching the rain rolling down his face like tears, you realized that maybe, maybe you should have seen the warning behind his words. Because this betrayal, it came like he had shot you in the back – you didn’t think you’d be able to recover from it.

The past dwindled away as San spoke again, reminding you of the question you had just asked him. “It’s not a question of love, Y/n. I do love you. But it’s a question of survival.”

You laughed, coldly, and then you said, “You know what? You’re full of shit.”

“Alright then. Do me a favour and tell me to go away.”

“Go away.”

A long silence had lingered between you, voided of that summer warmth that had you falling in love. Like a piece was missing from the contract of you loving him, and him loving you. And you realized, maybe you had never really loved each other anyway.

He nodded once when you didn’t say anything else, before turning away. And you watched him walk away. You watched him thinking he was going to turn around and tell you this was just some twisted joke, the prank of the century. Only, he never turned around, and he disappeared behind the bend in the road, never to be seen again, cracking your heart open and splitting it in half.

*****

The sun sets, like an ending to a dream. You’ve always liked the end – you think if you could choose, you’d want to witness the end of the world. The nostalgia, the beauty of endings… it’s something you understand now that you didn’t understand when you were younger. Because you and San ending, it had led to you focusing on high school. It had allowed you to get in the good college in town, with a scholarship that covered most of your expenses before you made it to med school.

There’s beauty in knowing losing San has allowed you to live out your dreams.

There’s less beauty in knowing that San has been sleeping for almost thirty-four hours now. Last time you checked, he was still breathing, but you’re starting to be afraid that he just won’t wake up. It’s irrational, you know – after the blood loss it makes sense that he’d sleep for a long time.

But it leaves you with far too much time on your hands to think and revisit the past. You’ve been doing it all day – thinking about the fight with your parents that had led to your break-up with San, thinking about that damn rainy evening he had walked away without once looking back. Thinking of the field, of sunshine and star falls and the sweetness of a first kiss. Thinking that, then, you thought you knew what it was like to be in love.

You haven’t dated anyone serious since San. Hyunmin was a distraction for a while, but you never were into it. Not like you were into San. There’s a guy in your class though, that you’ve been chatting with for a couple of weeks. He’s sweet, innocent, and the perspective of a future seems less scary with him around. He’s mentioned he wants to move across the country once too, and since then you’ve started talking more, the similarity of your wishes drawing you closer.

All day today you’ve been feeling like you’re slowly drifting away though. Slowly getting entrapped in a web you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk away from.

You decide to swim, seeking the fresh clarity only cold water can bring to you. You don’t have a swimsuit with you, but since San is half-dead in bed you figure it doesn’t matter. So you strip naked, feet making squelching sounds in the mud by the lake side as you step in the water.

The sharp cold has you holding your breath, but you don’t slow down. You’ve never slowed down in life – when you make a decision, you bring it to completion. And you’ve decided to swim, so swim you will.

The warm summer evening breeze catches in your hair as you take another step forward, the water now lapping at your thighs. You dread the moment it’ll hit your core, knowing that that’s the worst part, but you breathe in deeply, moving forward. Because there’s no moving backwards now.

When the water hits, your eyes flutter shut, and you hold in the wince that threatens to escape the mask of calm your features hold. Soon enough, you get deep enough to swim, and the movements bring welcomed warmth to your limbs as you flop on your back, tits out of the water.

Your uncle’s cabin is the only cabin in a fifteen miles radius. You know you won’t be interrupted, and so you let the water cool you down. Calm you down, hold you in its fresh embrace. It undoes knots in your back that have formed from worrying about San, but also from worrying about college.

From worrying that you will never be enough. You think it’s a normal anxiety to have, something most people must feel as they go through the trials of college, not knowing what to expect on the other side. A nice career, perhaps, though the perspective of failure is there too, looming over the horizon.

You sigh, and your eyes flutter open as your legs move mindlessly under you, making sure to keep you afloat. You look up at the azury ceiling over your head, so far away as it slowly turns gold. Out of touch, out of grasp. You watch the fluffy white clouds that are lazily crossing the sky, turning fiery in the sunset, as if they have all the time in the universe. And you wish you were them, up above. With nothing to worry about.

Without a Choi San on the brink of death lying about twenty meters away from you. You sigh, and you turn in the water, with the purpose of swimming again. Though your gaze catches movement by the cabin, and your head snaps towards it to see none other than the supposedly Choi San, standing on the deck with a hand clutching his side.

You shriek, looking down at yourself. Most of you is hidden, but you don’t know how long he’s been there. Don’t know if he’s seen you naked as you looked up at the sky.

He doesn’t move, only watches you where you’re swimming.

“Can you please look away?” you say from the water, and he has the nerves to lean against the railing, eyes still boring into where you’re swimming. You think his gaze might be so hot the water will boil, and it startles you into action.

You start walking out of the water, pointing towards the door. “You shouldn’t be up, Choi San.”

“I feel fine,” he says as you take another step forward, and the water barely hides your tits anymore.

That makes him turn around, as he offers you a little bit of privacy. You’re quick to get out of the water and wrap yourself in the towel you brought outside, and then you collect your clothes to head back to the cabin. San dutifully keeps his gaze away until you’re climbing the three steps leading to the deck, and it’s then that his eyes trail to you again.

“Thank you for the water,” he says, offering you a tentative smile.

You left water by his bedside earlier today hoping it will coax him to wake up. You’re strangely surprised that it worked.

“You should go sit inside,” you scold him, only half-heartedly. Because seeing him up and about reassures you, somehow.

He cocks an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “The weather is beautiful, I’d rather sit outside.”

You roll your eyes, but you do let him walk down the stairs to sit by the fireplace while you go inside to take a quick shower and get dressed. You decide to make some food for him, though you know he shouldn’t eat too much right now, after not having eaten for a while. He has to start slowly, and you don’t even know if he’s hungry anyway.

You settle for preparing a cup of chicken noodle soup for him, so at least it isn’t too heavy on his stomach. You bring it to him outside, as he’s just calmly observing the lake.

“Thank you,” he says, voice small as he grabs the cup and the spoon.

You sit next to him, trying not to watch him eat too much. His hair is sticking to his forehead in some places, and you have the distinct thought that he’ll probably need to shower. At least there’s plenty of rain water in the bucket for the water pump.

“What have you been doing while I was out?” he asks.

You spare him a quick glance before losing your gaze in the rocks of the fireplace. “I’ve studied. Checked up on you. Not much honestly.”

He chuckles. “I’d argue that caring for someone is a lot.”

You glance at him, cheeks burning at the sight of his teasing smile. “Not really.”

He chuckles again, but doesn’t say anything more before eating another spoonful of soup. He’s almost done with the cup when he actually does speak, asking, “How long was I out?”

“A day and a half,” you answer. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t slept longer.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m made of tough stuff.”

You snicker, but you don’t say anything, just focusing on where you’re kicking at the dirt. When he’s done with the cup, he puts it down on the ground next to him, before sitting back in the chair. He stretches out his legs in front of him, sighing deeply.

“I still feel out of it,” he admits, and you meet his gaze.

“You can sleep more,” you tell him. “I’d just like to check on the…”

You don’t even have to finish your sentence. He immediately turns so his side is to you, and you have to admit you’ve done a perfectly good job with the stitches.

“So?” he asks.

“All good.” You pat his shoulder. “You can sit comfortably again.”

He’s smiling when he does so, and his gaze wanders to the lake once again. “I’m sorry I…” he trails off, and he chuckles softly. “I’m sorry I interrupted your little swim earlier.”

You have the decency to flush furiously red, and you shrug your shoulders. “No worries, I wasn’t expecting you to be up so soon.”

You fall in a comfortable silence, surprisingly so. Rare stars dot the darkening sky up above, and all that can be heard for a moment is the flap of a bird’s wing as it moves from branches to branches in the trees by the water. The breeze picks up as you watch the little bird, and the leaves dance, loudly so. You’d think it’d be deafening in the silence between you and him, but it’s strangely reassuring.

As if, after all, you found your way back to the field. Only this time it’s completely different, as if decades have passed between you. At least, that’s how it feels like.

You notice San has dozed off in the chair next to you when you were about to speak to him again. To ask him how he’s truly been, in the years between then and now. Hoping to avoid mentioning what led to him coming to you, yesterday, a whole eternity ago.

You watch him, heart aching in your chest. Aching to reach out and brush his hair away from his forehead, aching to heal the cut on his cheek with a gentle swipe of your fingers. If only medicine was so simple…

It seems the peace of the early evening wasn’t going to stay around, because you notice dark clouds rolling in the distance, streaks of lightning cutting through them. Slowly inching closer, menacingly so, and you gently wake San up with your hand on his wrist.

He startles awake, hand shooting to his waist, finding nothing there. It startles you, and you both stare at each other for a moment until you realize what he was looking for.

His gun.

“San…” you let out and he runs his hand through his hair, eyes falling shut as he breathes in and out raggedly.

“Sorry.”

“San, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, refuses to let you see the vulnerability you glimpsed behind his piercing gaze. Refuses to acknowledge that he’s terrified, deadly so.

“Let’s go in,” you tell him, softly. Because you’re afraid you’ll spook him, when he’s clearly been living in fear long enough. “There’s a storm coming.”

He nods, carefully getting up without sparing you a glance. He heads inside, hand clutching his side again, while you pick up the chicken noodle soup cup before following him.

You’ve refilled the generator before swimming, so you know it’s been charging the batteries for a while now. You don’t fear ending up in the dark with San, and there’s also always the option of using the lamps and candles your uncle always leave here in case of an emergency.

The storm doesn’t roll in until a little later. You’ve forced San to put a shirt on – mostly so your eyes would stop betraying you, dropping to his toned body whenever he talked to you. You’re currently sitting on the couch, and as the rain starts, hammering against the window behind you, you pull your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms comfortably around them.

“How hard do the storms hit here?” he asks, eyes trailed to the world outside.

You follow his gaze, right as wind picks up to make the water hit the window even harder, creating a cacophony that forces you to speak louder for him to hear. “Pretty hard.”

He nods, and he glances once at you. “Fun.”

You smile, because you’ve always liked storms. Have always found them electrifying, energizing.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the field when it rained?” San asks, taking you by surprise.

Making your heart clench so hard in your chest you have to take a wobbly breath in. If he notices he doesn’t say.

“We were always in that field,” you remind him. “No matter the weather.”

It’s his turn to smile fondly. “It got so pretty with all the wildflowers. But you were afraid of the bees.”

“Bees are scary!” You laugh, and he echoes it with a soft chuckle. “You’re the one that almost pissed yourself when we saw the rat.”

That makes him laugh, and he winces in pain clutching his side. “Gosh, is it supposed to keep on hurting like this?”

It douses your enthusiasm and your smile falls. “Well, it was a solid cut.”

His eyes get lost in the void as he takes on a wistful expression. “I’m surprised I didn’t die.”

You gulp, watching his profile carefully. “It wasn’t deep enough for that…” you trail off, even though you spent most of yesterday and today being convinced he’d die. “At least they didn’t… stab you.”

“They would have if… Wooyoung didn’t shoot.”

You remain silent, not knowing what to reply to that. San interprets that as discomfort, and he quickly adds, “He didn’t shoot them. Just… in the air. It attracted the police.”

You remember the cars zooming past the diner a lifetime ago, and you nod your head. “I heard.”

He seems surprised, and his gaze finally finds yours again. “You did?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, a little awkwardly. “I hear a lot of shootings, in the diner.”

His eyes widen, mouth falling open cutely. “You do?”

You don’t know what he expected. The diner is right between Ateez and Bangtan territory, and as much as it is a safe space, it is also near enough to dangerous grounds, and you’ve heard plenty of shooting in your time working there.

“Always,” you admit. “It can get scary sometimes… but you also get used to it.”

He looks sad. Infinitely so, like a lost puppy. That’s when the first thunder hits, so sharp and sudden you startle. Not quite as much as San, who ducks, wincing in pain as he clutches his side.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, in time with another thunderclap, though this time it’s more of a rumble.

You watch his chest as he breathes in and out quickly. “Just… fuck.”

Now, concern grows in you, and you gently put a hand on his shoulder. “San…”

He meets your gaze, and there’s so much white in his it makes you think of a terrified prey. And then it clicks: he thought it was a gunshot.

“Hey,” you quickly say, moving closer to him. You’re on the side of the stitches, so you still keep a safe distance between the two of you, but you grab his hand nonetheless. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say.

“I promise, no one’s going to find you here.”

He remains silent this time around, eyes still boring into yours. You take that as a cue to continue, because you don’t want him to panic. You want his thoughts here, with you, and not miles away in a city he should have escaped from years ago. You wish he had, knowing the atrocities that he would have avoided.

Would he have escaped with you, had you stayed just a little longer?

“I killed someone,” he says, and you balk at the silver lining his gaze. “I fucking killed him.”

You don’t know how to help. All you can think to do is cup his cheek, right as he starts breathing even faster. “Breathe with me, San.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes fall to your mouth. You make a good show of inhaling slowly, before exhaling even slower. It takes him a moment but he eventually follows your lead.

It breaks when there’s another sharp thunderclap, and he flinches, eyes shutting instinctively.

“Hey hey hey,” you say again, even more gentle, softer than before. You move even closer, and when a tear slips out of his closed eyes, you pull him into a hug, careful not to brush his side.

His head falls on your shoulder, and one of his arms wrap around your waist. A thunderclap later, he starts sobbing, fist balling the fabric of your shirt in his tight hold, and you let him do it. You let him hold onto you, hoping it’ll keep him here with you. Hoping it’ll keep him afloat during the storm that’s raging both outside and in his mind.

“It’s going to be okay,” you breathe, and you feel like you’re lying to him.

Because how can he ever be safe from the ghosts inside of his skull? The ghosts wandering the halls of him, tainting his soul with their presence?

“He’s never going to smile again,” San chokes out. “Everyone loved him. Even in Ateez… Jungkook was the best of us. The only one who had a shot at getting out of it.”

You don’t know how good he could have been, if he was a member of Bangtan. In your mind, you’d always seen Bangtan as the bad guys, mostly because they weren’t with San. Even when you had been struggling to evade that life, you’d still rooted for him.

It’s strange how you just realize that now, as you’re holding him while he breaks.

“You didn’t mean to kill him,” you remind San, still speaking with the calmest voice you can muster up. “You didn’t want to, San. You’re not a murderer.”

“I’m still a killer,” he says. He sounds angry, and you reckon he might be angry at himself. Might be consumed with his actions, dragged to hell before his time as his mind gets stuck replaying the events.

“Maybe,” you answer. “But,” you quickly add when he stiffens in your arms. “But you can spend the rest of your life making up for it. Repenting.”

He doesn’t respond right away, as he breaks some more, sobs rocking through him. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when you were younger and in love. It makes your gaze wet, yet you hold on strong for him. You keep your head held high, and you allow him to break in the safe haven that your arms represent.

Because to him, you’ve never been tainted. You’ve always been the ideal he was trying to pursue, albeit the wrong way.

“I don’t know how to repent,” he admits when he calms down. He turns his head, and his nose brushes along the skin of your neck, slightly tickling you. You ignore the feeling, especially as he adds, “Ateez… it’s all I’ve ever known.”

You run a hand on his back, soothingly. “It isn’t.”

Because there was you, too. There was the summer field and the twinkling stars and Artic Monkeys on the radio. There was the two of you, petal-soft kisses exchanged in the dead of night and in the brightness of day. There were rainy days, and then there was rain. There was him walking away, and you hate yourself then.

You wish you had stopped him that day, had kept him from going on to become what he’s become now. A person he clearly hates, someone that has a bounty on his head. Someone that doesn’t even believe they’re allowed redemption and you reckon you don’t even know if he is.

You only know that seeing him break is bending your will, the way the wind outside is bending the trees. All you can hope is that, like the tall trees, you won’t break.

*****

The storm calmed down sometime around midnight. San ended up falling asleep on the couch, as you’d reassuringly ran your hand through his hair, trying to keep him with you. Though you think he’s been slipping through your fingers, into his demons.

You’ll find a way to bring him back. You have to. Turns out it comes faster than you think, as the electricity runs out and you busy yourself with lighting some candles throughout the main room. When you’re done, you put a blanket over him, and you almost let out a startled scream as his eyes shot open.

“Hello,” you say, resting a hand on your heart to tame the wild beats.

You’re about to move away, but he grabs your hand, forcing you to sit next to him. You don’t really resist, though you think you probably should. You’re weak – weaker still when he murmurs your name.

“San,” you whisper in return, and you’re aware your voice carries too much longing. Longing for a past when life’s atrocities hadn’t changed either of you yet.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and a tear rolls on his cheek.

You dry it, fingers lingering there. “It’s okay.”

“Angel…”

The nickname brings you back to laser quests and favours and warmth creeping up your stomach for the first time in your life.

“I’m no angel,” you breathe.

“You saved me.”

You hold his gaze. There’s something hiding behind his pupils. The need, to forget. You don’t think you have the ability to run his mind through amnesia, but still you brush his cheek again.

“You deserved saving.”

His eyes glaze once more, though this time no tears fall. “It’s hard to believe it.”

“Do you still believe love is a laser quest?” you ask him, out of the blue.

As if you’re a line straight of that Arctic Monkeys song you listened to the first time you kissed.

“Maybe,” he says, a parallel to that first time you had asked the question. “Maybe it is.”

You can’t resist. You lean down, and you press the gentlest kiss on his lips. His are dry, but the way he sighs with you against him is soft, for your heart and for your mind, and you kiss him again. He lets you lead, follows the dance of your lips, lets you run your hand through his sweaty hair.

Even if you shouldn’t. Even if you know everything you’re doing right now is a mistake, you still find yourself deepening the kiss, opening your lips to slip your tongue out, teasing his mouth. One of his hands finds your thigh, and he squeezes ever so slightly as his tongue finds yours, and you let out a breathy sound.

When you pull away, eyes fluttering open, you find San’s gaze. You think about the boy he was then, the girl you were then. You think about who you were, together. And when he says, “Please make me forget”, you lean again, capturing his mouth in a languid kiss.

For a reason unknown, the summer sky and falling stars pale in comparison to this kiss. Maybe because it holds longing, nostalgia. Hope that life would have turned out differently. For a moment, you picture what it would have been like, without Ateez. With you and him in the field, in your family house, in a car driving by the beach, windows down as the sun sets and you sing along to the radio, wind blowing in your hair.

You see a whole life there, with you and him marrying in the field, under the sun that had been the host of your first love. You imagine growing up by his side, attending college with him in the big city. You imagine how he would have become the owner of his own construction company, like his dad before him. You picture kids laughing, running around the house he would have built for you. You see Christmas light, late nights antics by the firelight.

You see it all, and you know you’ll never have any of it. But if you can have tonight, then you’ll grab it before it slips through your fingers. Before he walks away in the rain again, only to be a memory you cherish in the deepest corners of your heart.

“How?” you ask him when you pull away.

Mostly, you’re asking how to make him forget. But you’re also asking how it is that the feelings are still there, even stronger now, as if they’ve grown up with you, yet haven’t changed like you have. Like they are a constant of an ever-changing universe.

“Kiss me again,” he asks, begs, and you give in. You kiss him wildly, always making sure not to touch his side and the stitches.

You know sex would be a stupid idea, especially with the fresh stitches. But also because he’s barely had time to recover. But he doesn’t really give you a choice, pulling you on top of him until you’re straddling him.

You sit back on him for a second, eyes trailing to the spot where you know the stitches are. “This isn’t a good idea,” you whisper through the ragged breaths caused by the ministrations of his mouth on yours and of yours on his.

“I’m fine,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t believe him. But when he pulls you down again, large hand holding the nape of your neck firmly so you don’t escape, you want to believe him.

Want to believe the beauty of his lies, like you had when you were younger.

From where you’re perched, you can feel the start of his erection pressing against you, and you moan softly in the kiss, rolling your hips. His mouth falls open, and you capture his tongue, sucking on it once before you pull away, leaving hot kisses on his jaw.

“Sit on my face,” he says, and he sounds out of his mind. Crazed, a little like you too feel at the moment.

“What?”

“Can’t get hurt if you sit on my face, angel,” he explains, and then hisses when you suck a hickey on his neck.

You let him pull your shirt off, unclasping your bra yourself as you sit back on his lap. He cups your breasts, rolling your erect nipples between his thumbs and indexes. You moan again, grinding your hips into his, and he hisses once more.

“You want to taste me?” you ask, head throwing back as he pinches your nipples hard.

“I’d fuck you, but you’re the doctor. Can’t risk fucking up my stitches, huh?” he replies, voice low and husky.

Your core heats up, pussy clenching around nothing. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, though you spy desperation beneath it. Like he thinks he doesn’t have forever, when it comes to you.

He’s right. Because tomorrow, you’ll have to go back into town, into the hellscape you call home. What will be left of the two of you then?

So when he tugs at your pants, you give in and get up, taking off your pants and panties in one swift motion. You step out of them, blood heating up by the way he’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, gaze burning on you.

You have half a thought that you could probably ride him instead of his face, but when you see his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, making them glisten in the candlelight, you need to know what it’ll feel like against you.

So you straddle his face as he guides you down, large hands pushing on your thighs until your pussy is a hairsbreadth away from his lips. He blows on it, and your eyes shut with sensitivity. You clutch the cushion of the couch, hoping it’ll help steady you, but the moment his tongue flicks at your clit, you realize nothing will be able to steady you. Yet you still hold onto it, especially as he dives his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juice. He moans in contentment, before moving to your clit again. And his tongue is wicked down there, like it knows exactly what you like.

You grab a handful of his hair, grinding into his face. You’re pretty sure he’s chuckling down there, and then he unleashes himself. Sucking hard, alternating circling motions to teasing you with his teeth. You’d expect the latter to hurt, but the way he does it just makes you see stars, and your pussy clenches around nothing again.

San is deadly good with his mouth. Both with crafting lies and pulling moans out of you, and your thighs tighten against his face as he sucks particularly hard, before dipping his tongue inside of you. His nose brushes your clit, and then he forces you to properly sit on him.

The way his tongue moves inside of you, lapping up your juices while opening you up, has you on the brink of an orgasm in no time. Especially as he makes you grind again, holding you tight into place. When one of his hands moves from around your thigh to reach your clit, you cry out, head throwing back.

He’s quick to rub at your sensitive clit, and you grab one of your breasts, massaging it mindlessly before you pinch your nipple, hard, right in time with a skilled swipe of his tongue. Your orgasm meets you there, shaking through you as it explodes in a blinding flash of light. You moan, loudly, something that resembles his name, and he keeps you going, guides you through your high until you cringe with oversensitivity.

Only then does he let you climb off from his face. You stand on wobbly legs, before deciding to sit next to him, and you catch sight of the smirk on his lips. It makes you blush, right as you realize what you’ve just done.

When you realize what kind of sinful activity he’s dragged you in, this time around.

“Gosh,” is all you manage to say.

He chuckles, clearly proud with himself. “That felt good?”

You worry at your bottom lip, eyes going down to the tent in his pants. You want to pleasure him too, to take him in your mouth and make him feel good, but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t.”

You still and you meet his gaze with slightly-widened eyes. “Why not?”

His features turn somber, haunted, and the heat of the moment passes so quickly you think it might have been a figment of your imagination.

Were you really riding his face just a moment ago?

“Please just lay next to me,” he says, barely even a whisper.

You don’t know a lot of men that would choose cuddling over getting a blowjob, but if that is what he wants, then you’ll give it to him. You lay next to him, glad that the injured side is closer to the couch. That way, you can cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder while he wraps an arm around you.

“Angel,” he murmurs after a time. “You’re a fucking angel. I think you’re my salvation.”

You highly doubt you hold this kind of power, but you don’t want to tell him. Have never been good at weaving beautiful lies for him to believe.

“We should stay here,” he continues. “Forever.”

And you wish you could. Wish reality didn’t exist, didn’t call for you to go back to your regular life like you’ve never been here with him. But you know tomorrow exists, and you’ll have to leave.

“We should have stayed in the field,” you choose to answer. “Under the shooting stars.”

“I wished for a lifetime with you, then,” he admits. “I wished I’d never have to let you go.”

You’d wished for a similar thing, but life is far too cruel to allow a world of first loves.

“Why did you…” you trail off. The question has haunted your sleepless nights for a long time after the break-up. Even years later, you’d still think about it sometimes, wondering if nostalgia would choke you up. “Why did you decide to join the gang?”

He tenses next to you. But you start tracing a mindless circle on his chest, through the shirt, and it distracts him enough for him to reply. “I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you?”

His voice holds the weight of the world when he says, “I did. And I made the wrong one.”

You want to cry, but you’re older now. You’re not the teenager who thought she was going to die from losing him anymore. You know what living without Choi San is like, and as much as it hurts, you know that it’s doable.

“You made the one you believed was right,” you say carefully. “But I do wish you had made a different one.”

He holds you a little tighter, as if that will make it so tomorrow never comes. “Me too.”

There’s an eternity of flickering candlelight on the ceiling, of the circles you trace on his chest and of your breathings forming a melody. Outside, the wind has died down, and the world is silent except from an occasional cricket braving the world after the storm.

“Where will you go, once you graduate?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

Because he knows. It’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

“As far away from here as I can.”

“I hope you find peace, wherever you go,” he whispers. “I hope you forget all about how we grew up in a hellhole.”

Do you feel bad for saying it? Maybe. But you can’t help saying it anyway. “I will, San.”

And like that rainy day years ago, you think you can see him walk away.

*****

Seven years later

The winter sun is strangely bright, up above. You’d think it will warm you up, but the cold is relentless, violent, and it sneaks into your coat as you walk out of the hospital. You’ve just finished a thirty-hour shift, and you can’t wait to be home.

To take a shower and forget that you’ve lost a patient today.

But you’ve saved another. A young man, with a stab wound in his ribs that should have killed him. But you saved him, stabilized his condition to the point you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Which is the only reason why you’re allowing yourself to leave now.

You’re never able to leave until you know your patients are okay. It’s been that way since your first patient, in a cabin in the woods you’ve done your best to forget.

You’d let San stay, after that weekend. He had given you the number of one of his friends, so you could get some clothes for him, and you’d gone back the next weekend. Bringing him the clothes, making love to him under the moonlight as if that would change the ending.

The following week, you had gone back to find the cabin empty. He’d left a note behind.

I hope I can find you again, wherever you go.

You kept the note. It’s in your bedside table, back at home, in the nice apartment you’ve been able to rent for yourself with all the money you’ve been making now. Enough to pay back student loans from med school, enough to reassure you that never again will you struggle.

You’ve never seen San again after. He hasn’t found you, and you haven’t searched for him. Have only looked up his name a couple of times, in the months following his disappearing, scared you’d find out that he was found dead in a ditch. But his name never came up, and you wondered if he had managed to escape, if he had managed to find a place where Bangtan couldn’t reach him.

You found peace, on your side of the country. Life is kinder here, though it still holds the same atrocities. You wonder if it’s the novelty of the city, or maybe if you’ve just grown old enough to be able to withstand the bad that the world throws your way. It’s hard to tell – you haven’t kept contact with anyone from back home, except Jae-on.

Jae-on, who’s moved with you when you’ve decided to come here, like he said he would. Jae-on, who asked you to marry him in late October, and you said yes. The ring sits heavy on your finger, and you mindlessly play with it.

In another world, you would already be married to Choi San. Sometimes, you catch glimpses of that world – a piercing gaze in the morning, a smile and a kiss to your temple. Talks about angels, children screaming in happiness. In another world, you’d be pregnant again, waiting patiently to add another piece of you and him to this world.

It’s fun to think about, sometimes, but you’ve been good at forgetting. Like you told him you would – most times, you’ve forgotten all about Choi San.

But today, you had a patient that reminded you of him. So you allow yourself to feel, you allow yourself to think about that note tucked in the bottom drawer of your bedside table, hidden under the thick socks you never use.

You allow yourself to think about the cabin in the woods, about the field where you would have gotten married had you been in that picturesque world you like to imagine. You think about laser quests and first kiss and rainy days and meteors. You think about summer, about wildflowers and him.

You’re so lost in thought you miss your stop home, and you begrudgingly get out at the next one. You’re tired, and your hands are shaking as you pull your phone out of your tote bag, wanting to text Jae-on that you’re going to be home late because you missed your stop. You walk to the other side of the tracks, sighing when you see a five-minutes wait for the next subway.

At least the sun is high in the sky, even though it is dreadfully cold. You shiver, putting your phone back in your tote bag so you can hide your hands in your sleeves again, hoping it’ll preserve them from the cold.

In your exhaustion, you forgot your gloves back at the hospital, you realize. It’s strange that you only realize now, and you reckon you really need to sleep, because your brain isn’t even working right anymore.

You sigh, glancing at the display showing the time. Still four minutes to wait. You think at this rhythm you might freeze in your spot before the next subway comes. You try to hide your face in the lapel of your coat, but a movement on the other platform attracts your gaze.

A man is helping an older woman climb down the stairs. She’s speaking loudly, which might be what attracted your gaze in the first place. You follow them as they walk down the stairs, and then when the man turns towards you, you meet his piercing gaze.

He smiles, and you realize that maybe, all those years ago, he was not spinning lies to you after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

Gosh yeahhh rereading it had me ralize that it is a lot sadder than I remembered it to be. At least we got an open ending ... :') What did we think? Should I write about other groups more often? Let me know what you think! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate

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@btsborahaee

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sunnebeam · 10 months

Text

backstreet buildings.

A 'CITY OF LIGHTS' DRABBLE.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), wet humping, fighting (not physical, but they have a big argument), cheating (kinda, the first col drabble explains it better so it's better to read that first!), gangster squad au

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: our col!couple is back at it (like rabbits) again! there'll probably be another drabble or two after this to complete the au ^^

— previous: city of lights. | next: neon lights.

You thought it would be a one-time thing.

But one night of pleasure turned into several nights of passion. One night of secrecy turned into several nights of indulgence.

It's not far-fetched to say that this arrangement with Jungkook, like many other things in your life, is going out of your control.

But you aren't complaining.

“Fuck!”

Jungkook says the word breathlessly, his hands on your waist as the both of you stand under the shower head. It's one of those rare morning-afters when you don't have to rush back home at dawn, so the both of you are making the most out of it.

“Jungkook, mmm,” you moan, shifting your weight on your feet and arching your back to get a better angle. “Wait— Just...”

His hands grip your ass to pull you flush against his body. Slowly but surely, he rocks back and forth, rubbing your pussy lips with the length of his dick, fucking you but not really fucking you at the same time.

"Don't worry,” Jungkook says, grunting when you cross your legs with his cock right between your puffy pussy lips, your juices making him glide deliciously back and forth. "Not inside, okay?" he tells you as you moan again, wiggling your hips to stimulate both of your pleasures.

“You’re so pretty,” he groans. “And so wet, fuck.”

“And you’re so big," you whimper. “Want you inside me."

“I know, doll, but you're still sore from last night, remember? Shit, just like that—” A roll of his hips. “Besides, We don't have much time. Taehyung's coming back at noon, right?"

Again with the 'Taehyung.' It's always 'Taehyung this, Taehyung that.'

Of course, you've known all along that Jungkook and his crew are planning something against your mob boss boyfriend. You've known all along how much of a pawn you are in the grand scheme of things. You've known all along that what you and Jungkook have right now has a hidden motive behind it.

You've known all that, and yet you can't help but be disappointed.

If you were just a pawn, Jungkook didn't have to bring you soup and heating pads that one time you had cramps. If you were just a pawn, he didn't have to be content just snuggling with you that one night you weren't in the mood for sex.

If you were just a pawn, he doesn't have to care if you're sore or not.

You halt his movements, pulling away from him to turn around with your back against his chest. “You know I’m Taehyung's girl, right? Not you? You're awfully more up to date with him than I am,” you point out, reaching between your legs to place his dick back between your legs and wet-humping it.

“Well, that sounds like a you problem,” he teases, reaching around to play with your clit. “Maybe I should be the one dating him, then.”

“You'd love that, wouldn't you?” You reply, his fingers and your hips moving even faster and moments later, the both of you reach your highs, with your hole clenching around nothing and him finishing on your pussy.

After a few breaths, he kisses you tenderly before wrapping towels around you and himself, and leading you back to the bedroom. As he's turning away to put on his clothes, you notice something shiny peaking out from one of his pockets. Your heart stops when you see something gold.

A police badge.

Much later when you're both seated at his breakfast table, you're holding in your doubts and questions, choosing not to say anything yet as you finish your makeup and put on the earrings Taehyung got for you.

Maybe Jungkook notices how you've spaced out. Or maybe he notices how you've gone a bit distant. Either way, the shift in the air is noticeable and the tension is undeniably thick.

"Do you have to do that in front of me?" he asks, scowling through a mouthful of cereal.

You stop and stare at him.

"Do you have to make yourself pretty for him in front of me?" he spits out.

"What's the matter?" you ask him blankly.

"Why are you dressing up so much for him?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were a cop?"

Silence. The cat's out of the bag and there's no turning back now.

After a few tense beats, he tries to placate you. "I hid it to protect you," he sighs, his hand reaching out to touch yours. "Trust me."

You pull your hand away.

"No," you scoff. "I don't trust you, Jungkook, the bible salesman." You add, "I should've known life would do me dirty again."

"Hold on," he bites back. "You knew we were planning something. You knew I was trying to bring Taehyung down."

"I thought you were just like all the others who tried! You think you're the first one, Jungkook? You're not special," you say angrily. "How was I supposed to know you were the fucking police?"

He doesn't answer. Or more appropriately, he can't answer. His mouth opens and closes, no sound coming out.

"So if you're a cop," you start slowly, softly, your eyes on the table, "and your goal is to have Taehyung arrested... Where does that leave me?"

You look up at him.

"I'm in too deep," you continue. "My association with Taehyung runs too deep for me not to be implicated. If you arrest him..."

"Doll..."

"...will you arrest me, too?"

His silence tells you everything you need to know.

You stand up hurriedly, packing your things mindlessly and heading out the door.

Storming out of his place, you leave your disappointed heart and wistful dreams behind.

#bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #jeon jeongguk x you #jeongguk x you #cat.writes

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armpirate · 7 months

Text

Disturbs on the 3rd floor (Part 2) | Jungkook

Part 1

pairing: Boxer!JK x fem!reader || Neighbors, enemies to lovers

w.c.: 5.2k

Warnings: Illegal boxing, violence, blood, blood licking, smut, male and female masturbation, oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk.

Summary: You tried to avoid him as much as possible after the last time you saw each other. Although you two ended up meeting at the least expected place.

Aprox. time of reading: 23 minutes

The loud screams that came from the editor's office made your heads turn towards the closed door, seeing through the shades that covered the windows how he exaggeratedly gesticulated with every single word he dropped, while one of your colleagues just kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

It had been a long morning. It seemed like it'd never end.

Usually, you all would fight to get the best reportage or get the most juicy news for the newspaper. But that day it was like the universe didn't want either of you fighting over anything, done with the complaints of favoritism, before a chain of big events dropped in a span of a few days.

Elections, manifestations, World Guinness Records, a celeb's scandal... And somehow, you still managed to get the article that would make no one move. Covering up illegal fights was not only dangerous, but also something that people would read through with the least interest. "Oh, wow, some people are doing something that doesn't affect me at all. Let me pretend to be concerned about it, before I jump to the sports section". It was always like that with that type of article, and you knew it'd be a waste of energy and time.

Either way, you still managed to get one of your sources to tell you the place where the fights would take place that week. And you'd go there as soon as your shift ended. It wasn't like you needed any big tools, or cameras, you'd do fine with your phone and your own eyes.

You were already warned that it was a dangerous place, where there were all types of men, except good guys. Boxers went from street fighters to owners of gyms to gain investments from the rich men and gangsters that showed up there for fun, and the fights were almost lethal -always leaving one of the fighters unconscious or close to death. And that made you wonder if it was actually worth it for them to risk their lives and healths, just to entertain the big guys in the city.

You gulped when you saw there wasn't a lot of control to get inside. You guessed it was because not that many people would know about it, nor would be interested enough in it to get to the other side of the bridge just to see a few guys fighting. The fair amount of people that went there knew what they'd come across to, and knew it was either to bet money or to fight. There was no other choice.

The smell was heavy. It wasn't like it was putrid, but you could tell apart the wetness coming from the cement of the old building. Suddenly, it felt uncomfortable walking around there, getting through some of the people that were surrounding the improvised boxing ring. But you still did it. Hiding your phone on your sleeve, enough to let your camera film everything that was going on, you also made sure to hide your face with the hood of your jacket.

You kept walking through the people cheering for the two fighters to split each other's faces in half, making your way to the side of the place, feeling ready to breathe again as you stepped back from the crowd. Although your heart raced fast, as if it had received an electric shock, when you felt your hood being pulled back, discovering your head.

"Hope you know you can't record here" a thick voice warned at your back.

You were ready to reply to that accusation, hiding your phone deeper in your sleeve, as you turned on your tracks. Looking confused when you saw him in front of you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook spoke first, face slowly going distraught.

"I could say the right same thing" you replied back, moving away from his grip.

Jungkook sighed, looking away for a mini second before his eyes were back on you. Having to be there was bad enough, but having to see you there wasn't making things any better. His mind filled with the different ways he wanted to rail you whenever you came across each other in the elevator or in the corridor. You would only be a distraction if you stayed there. He didn't really want to know why you were there, and how you got to know about it all, he just wanted you to leave for his own sake.

"Are you a cop?" he asked.

"It's not your business" you replied back.

He sighed exasperated, seeing how that conversation would take them nowhere. She wasn't going to give away her reason, so there was no point in arguing with her about it.

"If you're smart, which after these weeks I doubt" he added, referencing the several encounters you've had ever since he moved in ", leave and delete whatever it is you've filmed. You don't wanna deal with the people here".

"Jungkook, you're next" a tall man told him.

He gave a quick look at Max, eyes dropping to you quickly before his lips twisted, and he tilted his head. "Do whatever the fuck you want".

Those were the last words he dedicated to you, before he walked past your body and disappeared among the crowd. It wasn't like you had much of a choice when it came to what you wanted to do.

It was your job. And while you could've written some paragraphs describing what you saw, your perfectionist side would never forgive you for it, knowing you could top the final result by adding more to the story.

The crowd was suddenly more invested in the upcoming fight, hearing the chants and growls as the two fighters were presented. Rodric "The Bully" Hatcher, and the Doberman of Busan. You rolled your eyes at them, going back at aiming the phone towards the ring's direction -while still doing your best at hiding it under your sleeve.

If you thought you'd be able to get through the whole thing without flinching, you were wrong. Your body kept moving, surprised with every hit thrown, suddenly worried by the way the other boxers were attacking Jungkook like he owed his life to him.

Soon, half of his face would be covered in blood that spilled down from his eyebrow and his broken lip. Jungkook fell a few times to the ground, always standing up after two or three seconds, that was what took him to regain some strength back. He only managed to fit some punches towards his blond opponent, but checking on you got him more distracted than he'd be in any other circumstance.

Why the hell were you there exactly that day?

His body fell flat on the ground when his head turned in your direction, seeing Jimmy -one of the men looking after the place-, grabbing you by the elbow and causing you to raise your voice over the several chants that were favoring Rodric at that point.

The blond smiled, getting ready to give the final punch as he walked towards his body. Jungkook tried to stand up, or at least roll on the ground by himself, but his body seemed to reach a limit that night. Most parts of his body felt numb, only being aware of Rodric making him lie on his back.

The devil seemed to be on his side that day though, seeing everyone panicking around him when the place was suddenly lighted by blue and red lights, along with several cops telling everyone to stay still in their places.

His back collided against the ground again, when Rodric let go of him, not without promising the next time he wouldn't be as lucky. He didn't expect the night to end as bad when he received the text for the fight, but there he was: lying on the ground and getting ready to be arrested and taken to the police station.

Someone did pull his body up, hooking their arms under his armpits until they were standing. "We need to leave" that female voice...

Jungkook managed to open his plump eyes, looking down to see you dragging him to the nearest exit. He for sure didn't know how you made it to get rid of Jimmy -although he guessed once the cops showed up, you were the least of his problems-, or how you dodged the cops. But he was glad you did.

While he looked conscious from the outside, it actually seemed like his body was moving automatically, following your guidance and doing what felt right. He wasn't even aware of how fast you drove from the center to your house until you dropped his body over your couch abruptly, making him moan while he closed his eyes.

You could've left him on his doorstep until he regained some consciousness back, and you'd be lying if you had said you didn't feel tempted to, but you still allowed him to step inside your place.

Moving your fingers carefully over his arm, you started removing the bandage that were covering his hands, setting him free from the tight knots until he spoke. "I can do that myself".

"Fine" you dropped his hand hard over his thigh, getting a low groan from him "Do it yourself".

Although you were annoyed, you still moved around your place, trying to get the few things you had to cure the wounds on his face. You looked after him, but it didn't mean you didn't use it to your advantage either. He hissed, squirmed and moved his head away every time you pressed hard on the places you wanted to heal, finding some joy in his pissed off expression. You also handed him some ice cubes covered in a rag, ignoring his stretched hand to press directly on the wound on his eyebrow until you saw him holding it.

He looked around your place, finding the similarities in structure, but seeing it completely different from his own place. Your house seemed cozy, ready to bring calmness to anyone who stepped inside. Your furniture was also black and white, but the different accessories over them created a huge change. Like the thick purple blanket that was over the backrest of your couch on his side, or the big world map that was over his head. You even had pictures displayed over the cabinet next to your door, and a jar filled with bright pink flowers.

Just like he expected, your house was as feminine and delicate as you seemed.

His head moved in your direction again when he heard you hissing and huffing. You looked at the broken screen, cursing at that man who dropped your phone against the floor when he caught you. At least you'd be able to use the videos and pictures it took you so long to get, but you'd have to repair the screen or get a new phone. And both options were too expensive to think about lightly.

"Look at what you did" Jungkook frowned at your accusation.

"Me? I already told you not to film there".

"If you hadn't reached out to me, and shouted how I should stop filming, no one else would've noticed" you dropped the phone over the coffee table.

"Sure, because you were so good at pretending you were doing nothing suspicious..." he squinted his eyes. "Who else would've thought this" Jungkook lifted his right hand at the level of his chest, in the most unnatural posture ever "was suspicious if it hadn't been for me".

Jungkook dropped the rag over the couch, finally standing up to confront you.

"I'm the one who should be mad. Look at my face" he pointed at it with his two index "If you had stopped recording when I told you, I would've been able to focus on my fight".

"I didn't ask you to focus on me" you replied back. "Oh, also..."

Jungkook looked confused when you crossed your living room, opening one of the drawers of the furniture next to your table and seeing you walking back to him.

"I also didn't ask for your eighty dollars" you handed him the money.

"It was my fault you got stuck outside".

"It wasn't, I should've checked first" she sighed "I don't want your money, and you didn't need to make up for shit" you left the money in front of him at the coffee table.

"But you still blamed me for your broken phone" he replied.

You sighed, looking down at your phone when you realized the argument with Jungkook would take you nowhere. It didn't matter if you had to buy a new phone, because you'd probably be able to opt for better articles and more recognition after you posted your reportage. The screen suddenly went dark before you could even enter the gallery, going completely useless although the battery was at fifty per cent still.

"No" you whined "No, no, no, no, no".

Not like it would change a thing, but you let out your desperation, while moving your thumb over the screen, trying to get a reaction. You gasped, and cracked a whine, dropping the phone from your hands when you felt your fingerprint being sliced.

It wasn't a deep cut, you definitely wouldn't lose your finger. It was more the type of cut you get with a sheet of paper, but it still was bothersome and some blood started to leak.

You didn't know when Jungkook stood up from the couch and walked over to you, but you heard his sigh over you, before he took your wrist and looked at the tiny and thin wound. You'd expect him to do anything, but your body froze when he raised your hand a bit more and wrapped his lips around your finger.

The tiniest bit of pain disappeared, because all your senses were too focused on the way his warm mouth felt around your finger, and how his slick tongue moved around softly. Your cheeks started to burn when his eyes sunken in yours, as if he were trying to read your thoughts. Not like they were too complicated to guess them though, your mind was filled with him.

"Don't you know how dangerous it is to do that?" you tried to break off the moment.

Jungkook let go of your finger with a loud pop sound, smirking at you "What are you talking about now?".

"Licking someone you don't know's blood. I could be sick and...".

"Are you sick?" he raised his eyebrow.

"No" and you clearly weren't concerned about the consequences of what he did. You were more concerned over the effects he was having on you with that simple action.

"Then what are you so worried about?" he rolled his eyes.

"I'm just trying to let you know that..." he interrupted you again.

"Fine" he nodded. "I'll lick something else instead".

While you were still trying to process what he meant, Jungkook pulled you by the neck, sucking onto your lower lip. You'd have wanted to push him away, but you knew you'd be banging yourself against the wall if you did, his lips felt way too good and spongy to let go of them. You lost yourself in the kiss as soon as his tongue sneaked in your mouth and your teeth slightly crashed against one another for less than a mini second. Too long gone to care how sloppy the kiss was, or how messy, your mind was only craving for his hands never leaving your body.

Your heart shook in your chest when he gave you a second to breathe, before he pulled you back, grabbing your jaw tight.

You had only been kissing, but you swore you had never been more ready to be pinned against a bed and fucked until you forgot your own name.

While Jungkook thought he had control over you by your neck, you sneaked your hand under his tank top, instantly making him groan when your cold hands got in contact with his warm skin. A metallic taste appeared on your tongue, and you weren't sure if the blood you were tasting was his or the remaining taste of your own, but it only encouraged you to move your hands lower on his torso, reaching down for his shorts.

When you palmed him over the fabric, you could feel the shape of his growing bulge, nipples tightening under your bra just with the thought of how he'd look completely naked. And it seemed like he had the same doubt, because soon you stopped feeling his hand on your throat, to feel him unzipping your jeans and slipping them down.

"Let me see those tits" he asked you, while you were kicking your pants away.

Your rational size would've stopped you right then, but only you knew how bad you had been hoping for this ever since you met him for the first time. You allowed your mind to run wild every time you ran into each other.

The ten seconds you were in the elevator were a fucking nightmare.

His palm cupped your clothed pussy, groaning when he felt how wet and sticky your underwear was as he moved his fingers through your slit. Jungkook only moved his hand away when you folded your gray t-shirt over your breasts, exposing your black bra -that he didn't take long to move down, perked nipples almost begging for him to take them in his mouth. His mouth took one in, letting it get harder in his warmness, feeling how goof the hard tip fought against his flat tongue, before he let go of it with a loud sound and moved onto the other.

Your fingers sinked in his hair, encouraging him to keep going, before you spit on your hand and moved back to the inside of his pants. His groan vibrated through your chest when you wrapped your fingers around him, quietly moving them up and down, feeling how thick and hard he was getting against your palm.

"I really need to fuck you" he groaned, biting on your chest before he was towering over you again "I really, really need it".

You stood on your tiptoes, while your hands let go of him. Your lips rubbed against his, while your hands played with the elastic of your panties "Do it".

As you allowed those two words to fly in the air, you slipped your panties down your legs, kicking them away again. As if you had finally allowed him to set himself free, he lifted your body, having you instantly wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Put it in, angel" he asked you, holding you up in the air.

Redirecting his face by his nape, you linked your lips together, while your other hand managed to rub his tip on your entrance, having you two breaking the kiss and looking down when it was finally inside you. Jungkook moved you down his shaft, until your hips met and you felt him deep in your core.

You helped him make those movements on you easier, bouncing your body up and down slowly, enjoying the way every inch felt when it was about to leave you, but suddenly hit against you again. You also knew your legs would feel sore as ever before, but it was totally worth it just by the look on his face whenever you squeezed him. His eyebrows suddenly frowned and his lips puckered, growling while he allowed you to work on his dick.

He knew your hips were a menace whenever he took too long looking over the peephole of his door after he had to control himself, and not fuck you in the middle of the aisle, but he didn't know your whole body would be as dangerous -especially your eyes. You trapped him, and he knew it'd be over the second he made eye contact with you for longer than five seconds.

Jungkook stopped your movements, lifting your body a bit more to hook your legs with his arms, blocking you to move again, just to be able to pound into you at his own pace, dick drilling in your core, trying different angles until he saw your eyes going blank and your grip on his shoulders got tighter.

"How does it feel?" he groaned, smirking when all he was able to get from you was babbling "Look at you, you can't even say a word with how much you like talking".

You hugged him tight, trying to find something stable when you felt your blood started to heat up, slowly boiling as if you were ready to combust at any given time. He fucked you through your high, slowing his movements until he stopped completely.

"You look so hot when you cum" he hummed, kissing the middle of your throat.

Your lips were linked together again, moving slowly on each other, while Jungkook made his way intuitively to your bedroom.

"Do you want to know when I look even hotter?" you whispered in his ear.

His eyes perked with curiosity, before you motioned him to leave you back on the ground.

As you sat at the edge of the bed, he helped you take off your t-shirt and bra. Your fingers hooked on his shorts, pulling them down, while you bent over, licking his tip. Although it wasn't until you wrapped your lips around it, that you were able to taste you two mixed together. Your juices with his precum, and you found yourself more turned on about it than you should.

The weight of his hand on the back of your head, and how his fingers tangled on your hair, got you looking up at him. The movements of your mouth got slower down his shaft, making sure he'd see how it disappeared through your lips.

"You do look hotter like this" he nodded, grinding his hips against your face.

If there was something you disliked about sex, it was giving head. Usually, it was something you just did because the moment asked for it. But with Jungkook it felt different. Seeing the expression on his face, hearing the sounds that came from his mouth, the way he encouraged you to go on by softly caressing your scalp... You swore you could do that for hours if you were able to.

He made you feel powerful and sexy.

Jungkook stopped your movements as soon as you increased the speed, moving your head back slightly. He smiled at your confused look, finding endearing how out of place you looked until he bent over.

"My turn" he whispered. "Lay on the bed" he pointed at the middle of the mattress, before he started taking off his tank top.

You dragged your body over that spot, feeling the sheets wrinkling under you. He stood in front of you, completely naked, and seeing your perspective from your spread legs got you leaking for him again.

"You're aware these walls are really thin, right?" he joined you on the bed, kneeling in front of you.

Of course you know. If those walls weren't as thin, you two probably wouldn't have met each other the way you did.

"And I can hear absolutely everything" you frowned, confused of where he was taking the conversation, feeling his hands tracing the curves of your knees. "Especially when you touch yourself" he continued.

In any other circumstance, you probably would've been embarrassed by that comment. But that day, it only made your skin burn a bit more, waiting eagerly for him.

"That's why I want to show you I can do it better" he tilted his head, sliding his thumb through your slit. "Make your legs tremble, your ears ring and your throat hurt".

You held your breath when you felt his lips ghosting your soaked lips, the warm air coming from his mouth getting you ready for what was to come, when he lifted his eyes and looked straight at you. "I won't move from here until you make a mess on my face"

What he said, and the way he said it would sound like a promise, but it was more a fact. He dropped those words before he sank his lips in your pussy, taking you with an open-mouthed kiss that got you squirming in surprise. It was as if he wanted to get as much from you as he was able to, moving his lips on every corner that was left to discover by him.

The tip of his tongue felt so delicate compared to his mouth, moving over your slit, from your entrance to your clit slowly -as if he were tasting every drop of arousal in your core-, before he was wrapping his mouth around the bundle of nerves and pulling from it. You soon were grinding your pelvis against his mouth and arching your back -feeling it would crumble at any point. But he took it as an invitation to lift his arm, fondling your breasts until his fingers found your hard nipple again.

You weren't able to hold his gaze when he finally opened his eyes, your shut eyes and uncontrollable moans made you throw your head back, holding onto the wrist of the hand on your chest, while your other hand sank in his hair, assuring yourself that he wouldn't leave that spot when you were so close.

Jungkook stopped twirling his tongue around your clit, torturing your button, to move back down to your entrance, forcing a needy moan come from you when he slid the muscle through your walls.

It was as if your body didn't belong to you anymore the second he started twisting his tongue up and down, while his nose rubbed against your clit. You were too far gone to care about how loud you were, how messy you looked or how desperate you acted. Your brain was only able to process the wave of pleasure that fell heavy on you with the last move he made.

You lost sense of how much time you spent with your eyes closed, trying to gain some oxygen back. But when you opened them, you found Jungkook staring into you. You knew he wasn't done with you, and you thanked god he wasn't while you were aware of the way half of his face was shining down the light of your lamp.

Supporting your weight on your elbows, you motioned to the empty spot next to you. "My ears didn't ring".

Jungkook chuckled at that comment, lying in the spot you pointed to. His cock twitched in excitement when you got on top of him, straddling his hips. You didn't bother to tease him, or dragging it out, you both had been playing around long enough to keep waiting for it.

You two gasped in sync as you slowly moved your hips down his length, taking him inch by inch again. Keeping that pace for a bit longer, you enjoyed the desperate subtle look on his face, and the way his hands moved on your thighs to get you to go faster.

Jungkook got absorbed by the way your body looked the moment you started speeding it up. Maybe he was too high on sex, but he was sure you felt like the perfect match for him. Your bodies clapped together with every bounce you made, as if it was a piece fitting perfectly with another. He wasn't even able to control his own moans when you started moving back and forwards, making his cock twitch inside you with the way you kept clenching around him tight.

You cried out loud when your clit kept rubbing against his skin, creating the perfect friction while he fought himself to keep him from pounding into you.

A loud and sharp sound, was followed by a pleasant burning pain on your ass cheek, before he sank his fingertips on your skin -so hard that you were sure there would be marks on that same spot the next day.

Your grip on his wrists and he held your hips got tighter by the second, with your head instantly falling back before your eyes were on him again. His honey skin was covered with a thin coat of sweat, his messy short hair was covering his forehead, and by his expression you knew he was as close as you were.

"Are you cumming with me?" you asked, cracking your voice when he spanked you again.

"Fuck, yes" he growled.

One more sway of your hips, one more twitch of his cock and you were both done and ruined. His warm load spilled down your walls, leaking out when he pulled his cock out and rested his head on your pillow.

Your body fell flat next to his, shaky breathing fighting to go back to normal as you stared at the ceiling. It was all calm and silent, that you allowed yourself to close your eyes, trying to remember the way it felt like your hairs would leave your skin by the way they raised through your orgasm.

All that peace lasted a few minutes only, because soon you felt the mattress moving and you heard his steps over the room. When you opened your eyes, you found him with his boxers on, and his clothes piled in his hand.

You weren't sure what you expected, or whether you actually wanted him to stay or not, but you were confused at how fast he was getting ready to leave. Standing up, and covering your body with a pink satin dressing gown, you were ready to confront him.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah" he answered as if it was the most normal answer.

And probably it was. He lived next to you, there was no need for him to spend the night there. But something in the way he acted rubbed you the wrong way, having you placing your hands on your hips.

It wasn't like you'd have wanted him to sleep next to you either. Maybe it was your hurt pride speaking through you, calling you because you were the one supposed to kick him out, not the one being stood up in your own place.

"And that's it?" for a brief moment, Jungkook looked confused at your question. What else was he supposed to say or do?

"Yeah. I got what I wanted, you got what you wanted. We're done" he nodded. "You didn't expect us to cuddle and giggle like dumbasses, did you?"

No, but you didn't discard that idea either. Somewhere in the back of your brain, while you had your eyes closed, you hoped he'd wrap his arms around you and pull you in for a hug. Although maybe that was your loneliness projecting a bit too much.

"No, but this isn't it either" you called him out.

"Well, it seems like a you problem" he shrugged. "I didn't do anything to give you hope for a relationship".

"Hold it back there, who the fuck talked about a relationship? I'm just talking about human decency, which seems to be a bit too much to ask for a dog like you" you grimaced at your own words. "No, sorry. I didn't mean to insult dogs".

"You're so bitter, it’s kinda cute" he scoffed. "You don't need to hide it. It's fine".

"I'm not hiding anything".

Clicking your tongue, you pushed him out of your bedroom. Hurrying to the coffee table, you got his money and put it over his dark tank top, before you pointed towards the door. "Hope the door kicks you in the balls when you exit".

Although you both ended up arguing, something about that night felt weird.

This one-shot will NOT have a Part 3, since it will be part of a longer fanfic that will be posted after I'm done with Under His Skin

#ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #kookie #one shot #reader insert #armpirate #boxer!jk #smut #jk smut #jungkook smut

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 2 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Two

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,7k

Warnings | +18, explicit language, kidnapping, yandere, mentions of prostitution, Jimin is really a bastard, harassments, threats with a gun, forced vaginal inspection, humiliation and teasing, light blood consumption, virgin girls are sold, forced separation

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! The second chapter of Dark Moon has arrived, thank you for all the compliments and support ❤

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

When Y/N regained consciousness she felt her head spin and something go up her stomach, she was nauseous as well as very cold, even her leg did not seem to be in optimal condition. A white light filtered past her eyelashes, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut before groaning, trying, in vain, to move. She turned wearily on her side, realizing only then that she was lying on an icy floor. "The mare has awakened," said a voice with a deep cadence. The girl tried wearily to at least get on her knees, but failed to do so; her head was assailed by memories of a few hours ago, they were confused, but one thing she distinctly remembered. A face. A male face full of piercings, of cruel extraordinary beauty. "You better not move a step, you have a gun pointed at your head, baby doll," said another voice, higher and smoother. As her eyes adjusted to the light she focused on the gun in question, clutched in the gloved hand of the same man she remembered. His face was as beautiful as a god's, he had piercings on his lower lip, as well as on his eyebrow and all along the side line of his neck, stretching all the way under his leather coat. His dark hair, on the other hand, was combed so that his forehead was left uncovered, his amphibians also stood tall and menacing, just like the rest of him.

He held that gun with monstrous ease, his stoic expression telling her that he would not think twice about shooting her if he had to. She licked her lips, finding them dry and cracked, before she began to speak. "What do you want from me? I have nothing to interest you," she said in a scratchy voice, hugging her legs in a vain attempt to shield herself from his eyes. "You are quite wrong, dear," the other stepped forward, he was taller than the man with the piercings and his hair was silver, yet the hardness of his eyes was the same, "You have made a request and we are here to fulfill it." The young woman frowned, before the realization finally came. "Now you remember, right? You asked to work for us, in fact ... you both asked." The young woman widened her eyes and immediately remembered her younger sister, looked around in panic noticing the smaller body far away from her. She tried to get up to reach her, but the sound of a trigger froze her. "I told you not to take a step, I might blow your leg off, but that would not please my boss, so let's avoid giving each other trouble," huffed the dark-haired man, he was ruthless. She began to tremble, realizing the trouble she and her sister had gotten themselves into.

They had applied to work everywhere from small bars to supermarkets, not leaving out discos and more domestic jobs. But there was no work, or the pay was starvation. Finally she had made the leap, finding herself applying for jobs in a variety of red-light clubs, and before she could say or do anything, her sister had also followed suit, but she didn't think it would end like that for them. "We never received any recruitment letters or emails, so what are you talking about?" she hissed through clenched teeth. The taller one looked at her sideways, "The Dark Moon is not used to hiring the way you imagine, sweetheart...to fit into its standards you have to possess certain qualities and you two have all of them." If possible that answer left her even more confused, the dark-haired man with the piercings huffed, "Boobs and three holes to fill are not enough, once you enter the Dark Moon you never leave, those who "win" our attention do so because they live far away from their family and with a low lifestyle," he explained vulgarly, heedless of the increasingly evident pallor on the young woman's face. Everything was clear now, one of the brothels to which she had sent her application was much more than that, there was a highly illegal prostitution ring behind it, involving the total disappearance of girls from the rest of the world. The menacing appearance of the two men spoke volumes.

What had they gotten themselves into? "Wait a minute, ours was a request made without thinking" she tried to negotiate, but the grin on the pierced boy's face grew. Jimin was amused, did the poor deluded woman really believe that there was any way back? He shook his head, "Without thinking? You ran away from home because of an abusive family, dropping out of school and cleaning here and there to earn enough to afford a low Motel in the lowest neighborhood in town...it doesn't seem to me that you applied without thinking, in fact, it was desperation that convinced you and you even got bingo," he chuckled nastily. The girl cashed the blow, bending over herself; there was no remedy. She had been kidnapped and a madman was pointing a gun at her with impressive ease, the other man would probably hurt her sister if she decided to challenge them. She felt like crying, but she pushed back her tears; she would not let them see her whimpering like a child. After a few seconds a choked sigh was heard, Y/N opened her eyes again with fear. She turned toward her sister, who terrified looked at her with a lost and confused look. "What...? Y/N, what's going on?" she asked with some difficulty due to the drug used on her.

"Blair, stay there!" she exclaimed, but her sister tried to get up anyway, and the taller guy had to intervene, pushing the younger one against the concrete wall without any kindness, pulled the gun out of his jacket, and Y/N felt herself dying, yelled at him to leave her alone, pushing herself toward them, but a heavy kick to the leg stopped her actions. She groaned in pain, staring at the piercing guy's boot pressing right against her thigh, there where a purplish bruise had already taken shape from the violent sting. "Ha-ha! You're such a naughty little girl, you know? Lucky for you that wasn't a step, because otherwise I would have had to use this," he said in a childish tone, teasing her by moving the barrel of his gun left and right. Y/N swallowed hard, chewing between her teeth the pain she so badly wanted to vent, that boy was scary to her, there was a veil of madness behind his dark eyes. She did not want to find out how far she could push him, that madness. Namjoon, on the other hand, went no further with her sister, just put her back in her place. She resumed breathing as the man moved away from her, but a knock on the door made her stomach flip over. The two men exchanged a brief glance; it was Jimin who opened it without lowering his gun.

Y/N saw three other men enter the building, one of whom towered prominently over the others. He wore a gorgeous fur coat over his smoking, and his incredibly handsome face was obscured by an apathetic expression. The other two, on the other hand, were dressed quite similarly to those who had taken her hostage; they, too, were beautiful and surreally dangerous. "Are there only two of them?" the man in the fur coat asked, pointing at her and her sister. "They are the only ones who passed all the requirements, they are also quite pretty, Jin," shrugged the man the girl had labeled "The Tall One." The Jin in question squared them carefully, Y/N felt naked under his gaze and wished she could hug her sister to protect her from them, but she could not. She would be of no use to her dead. "What are their names?" "Byeon Y/N and Byeon Blair, they are sisters, they used this surname in the application, definitely not the right one...as you can see, they are not Korean." "Good job, Namjoon... As for their status?"

The girl didn't know how they could know all that, because it was true, they had changed their last name so that they didn't have to be related to their father and his family, but what made her cringe was the word "status," underlined in a strange way. The one she seemed to understand was called Namjoon remained silent a few seconds, then shook his head, "We haven't checked." "No problem, we'll do it now," he moved a finger toward the other two, "Taehyung, Hoseok," he said, but the pierced boy got in the way. "Leave this one to me," he said, intriguing Seokjin. "Why, Jimin? You usually avoid by saying it's too hard to handle them." Now she knew the name of that devil, but still not understanding what they intended to check, something told her she would not like to find out, she exchanged a glance with her sister. She saw her as frightened as she had ever been in her life, and it certainly should not have helped to see her, her older sister, in the same condition, so she tried to calm her expression, though with little result. "I have a score to settle with her," she said earnestly, it was then that Y/N remembered the kick thrown at the man's face in her fury to escape him, but she couldn't see any bruises so it must not have hurt him that much, right? The other nodded, "All right."

Next she saw the man named Hoseok heading toward her sister, who pushed herself against the wall trying to escape, but she was surrounded by men with guns and could do nothing. Y/N sprinted toward her, but Jimin was quick to grab her by the collar of her shirt. "Be still and quiet, behave yourself and it will only last a few seconds." But she did not understand, what would last only a few seconds? She blanched at the younger one's shocked screams, turned quickly toward her, and what she saw left her bewildered. The red-haired man, Hoseok, was holding Blair's body crushed to the ground while he did something with his hand under the fabric of her shorts, the insight made her shudder and she threw herself at her once more, heedless of Jimin's firm grip, who gritted his teeth at such stupidity. "What the fuck are you doing to her, you bastard! Let her go immediately, before I kill you!" she snarled bright-eyed, aware that as her sister kicked trying to get the man off her, she could only watch with no chance to react. A laugh behind her back made her skin crawl. "He's doing just that to her," she heard him say, before she was pinned to the wall hard, missing her breath for a few moments, time for Jimin to imprison her wrists in one of his hands, reaching with the other to the fabric of her underpants, which he went over, ending right under her panties.

In horror the girl felt the fingers still wrapped in the leather glove tracing her folds and without any care penetrating her tight slit, she cried out in pain and shock, the fingers went all the way, finding nothing to stop them, but Jimin wanted to provoke her a little. "You're so dry that if I continued you would bleed, wouldn't you? Like a virgin, too bad you're not," he whispered in her ear. The young woman, red with shame, overcame her shock and tried to kick him in the groin where an obvious bulge was taking shape, but Jimin ducked in time, stared at her with icy eyes before stepping firmly out of her intimacy, causing her another painful twinge. He let her fall back to the ground observing his fingers, only a few drops glistened on their surface, nothing striking. "She's tight as hell, but she's not a virgin," he communicated to the others in an impassive voice. Hoseok turned away from the youngest, who cowered in shock. "With this one I stopped pretty much right away, she's a virgin," he showed everyone a few drops of blood present on his fingers before licking them.

No one commented on that gesture, as if it was normal for them, Y/N just felt like throwing up, she clenched her legs trying to calm the burning that the bastard had intentionally caused her, god... if they were on equal terms she would have destroyed him. Seokjin nodded, "We'll make a lot of money with that one, I already have an interested customer." Y/N widened her eyes, rising up sharply. "At least let my sister go! She is young and unfit for such a life!" she exclaimed, staring into the eyes of what appeared to be the boss. Taehyung laughed, "Then why did she apply for such a job? Besides, what would she be different from you, is she a princess or something? Come on, we are fair and consistent people we, it wouldn't be fair to you," he teased her, ignoring Blair's sobs, still hunched over herself because of the pain she was feeling. Hoseok did not seem to have gone easy on her, as he had said. "Miss Byeon, the Dark Moon is a place that lives in anonymity, our clients are important people who want to spend moments of pleasure in complete relaxation, I can't afford outside witnesses other than my men, that's exactly why we only pick up girls like you," he began to explain calmly, "Beautiful, but desperate, I offer them protection and comfort, as long as they abide by my rules." Simply put, 'You know too much, and since you've been brought in, you will do as I say'.

Y/N felt lost, there was no turning back, she would be a whore without freedom until the end of her days, and her sister would follow her freewheeling. At that point, with another needle stuck in her flesh, tears flowed copiously without her being able to do anything to stop them.

Y/N regained consciousness in what was no longer a dingy warehouse, but lying on a soft bed with silk and velvet blankets. Smelling of essential oils and wearing a satin blouse, she widened her eyes, turning around. Next to her a girl was arranging some things in the sliding door closet. She was not paying attention to her. "I-where am I?" she asked in a low voice, the girl blocked her actions, then turned to her, glowering at her. "You should know, shouldn't you? You asked to work here yourself," she arrowed, Y/N looked at her shocked. Why had the woman answered her in that rude way? "I don't think I did anything to you to deserve such an attitude," she said in fact, the other rolled her eyes. "You newcomers are all like that, all naive holier-than-thou. You're at the Dark Moon, girl! Place of pleasure and sin, where you will open your legs without a single complaint and I recommend it for your own good," she blurted out, made to leave without adding more, but Y/N stopped her. "My sister! Have you seen my sister?" she ignored the scurvy attitude of that girl as beautiful as she was rude to ask about the younger one, the other looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, yes...when you arrived they just asked me to get you ready for the room, but I heard about the other one.... She was a virgin, virgins are always sold and never stay at the Dark Moon.... so it was your sister, huh? I'm sorry," she sneered, before leaving the room. The world came crashing down on her, her sister was not there with her, she had been sold without ifs and buts, they had not even given her a chance to see her one last time. She clutched her chest, trapped in a painful grip, and let herself fall on the bed without energy, she merely sobbed for what seemed like hours. She had definitely lost her entire family and there was absolutely nothing she could do to change that. She was gone, Blair was no longer with her, and she would spend the rest of her life spreading her legs for any man with a sizeable bank account. With tears still clinging between her eyelashes she saw the door open once more, revealing the slender figure of another girl, wrapped in a pattern similar to her blouse, but much darker. "Hey. You're the newcomer, aren't you? Nice to meet you, my name is Hanon," she said jovially, waving her hand, Y/N remained impassive, too exhausted and bitter to be in the same mood as her.

"Y/N..." she mumbled back, shutting herself up. The woman was not impressed by that closed attitude; on the contrary, she found herself smiling more. That girl reminded her of herself at first. Almost no one wanted to end up trapped at the Dark Moon, but getting used to it wasn't so bad. They had food and beautiful clothes, as well as a roof over their heads. "Well, hello Y/N! Welcome to the Dark Moon, I was asked to show you around a bit," Hanon said cheerfully, Y/N instantly glowered at her. She didn't want to take the prostitute prison tour, she wanted to go back to the horrid old Motel with her sister, better poor than divided and slutty. "I don't care for that, thank you," she replied through gritted teeth. If possible Hanon's smile grew bigger, a strange light shone in her eyes. "Oh, believe me ... it's in your best interests to listen to me, Seokjin here is the boss and his word is law, if you don't do as he says you'll end up bathing in the icy waters of the Han River, with no chance of rising" from the satisfied voice Y/N guessed that it had already happened and that Hanon was probably someone quite important among the girls, he believed she had power over all of them, that's why she smiled like that. Without uttering another word, Y/N got out of bed, found some bedroom shoes placed neatly on the polished wooden floor, and putting them on followed the other woman.

Hanon showed her several rooms, numbered and with a key inside each shiny, well-oiled lock; almost all the rooms were the same, except for a few cases of far more luxurious suites suitable for clients quite important to the boss of the "shack." Hanon explained to her that the one where she was a few moments earlier was her personal room, no one had the right to enter there, and that every client had one of those other rooms rented for a set amount of time that varied from the fee paid for each type of service requested. Y/N felt disgust and nausea with each piece of information she learned, the customer paid and they automatically had to obey him. Hanon finally showed her their relaxation room; it was a large greenhouse where one could play freely and grow flowers and plants of all kinds. That was perhaps the only area Y/N would appreciate, she told herself. "From this corridor instead you get to the kitchens and the dining room, instead to ask for any kind of information you can ask me, if I will not be available go ahead to Namjoon's office, I will show you where it is" at that name the young woman felt sick. She remembered the silver-haired man, she had no idea he personally worked at the Dark Moon. "Namjoon?" she swallowed, Hanon stared at her for a moment confused by her sudden pallor, then understood. "So this time it was his turn, I guess it went well for you then, he is very kind to girls and-"

"Namjoon kidnapped my sister," she said harshly, "He was not kind to do such a thing, much less his friend with piercings all over his face, who was simply an animal with me," she growled. Hanon winced, he could tell she was talking about Jimin from the description-he was the only one of the men in Seokjin who had piercings all over his face, not to mention his neck. Those seven were divided into distinct and separate personalities, and Hanon knew for sure that the worst were Jimin and Hoseok themselves. "All right, for any doubts ask me, then," then she remembered something important, "Oh, I almost forgot the most essential thing! In case you need help during a session with your client, on the bedside table next to the bed there is a white phone, it has a unique number and communicates with the bodyguards, if you will be in trouble don't hesitate for a moment to call" she explained seriously. A shiver ran down the young woman's spine, she had not yet thought of such a possibility, she believed that with clients of a certain caliber something dangerous could not happen, evidently she was mistaken. When she was escorted back to her room, Y/N stopped Hanon. "Um... Hanon?" "Yes?"

"Before you came, there was a girl in the room with me, she was very rude and I would like to know why, I'm new and didn't give any trouble...I wish I could at least live peacefully here, though I doubt it." Hanon weighed the words well, but decided to be honest. "I told you we have personal rooms, but not as much as they are..." Y/N widened her eyes, "Your room belonged to Ester, the girl you met." "What... Why did you give me her room?" she asked wordlessly, Hanon shrugged her shoulders. "Well, only five other girls have the room like yours, these girls are selected by Seokjin's most trusted men because they are their favorites, and you are now one of them, indeed, of us." If possible, Y/N found herself more confused than before-what was Hanon getting at? The latter sighed, "Ester was Jimin's favorite, but I don't know how...now you're the one who will share a bed with him if he decides to stay here from time to time, when he arrived he didn't think twice about sending her away to give way to you, I think you intrigued him and quite a bit too." Y/N found herself staggering back, everything simply had to be an absurd and horrible joke, should she have shared a bed with such a beast? The disgust did not leave her for a moment longer.

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