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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino  

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word. 

Intimate. That would be a better choice. 

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering. 

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony. 

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy. 

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considered their blood soaked pasts. 

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially considering how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go. 

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between. 

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company. 

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight. 

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off. 

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges. 

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter. 

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot. 

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are. 

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back. 

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses. 

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up. 

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.” 

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty. 

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is. 

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck. 

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself. 

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.” 

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, is ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night. 

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of rele—Fucking Taehyung! 

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing. 

You just lost all your tips for the night. 

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it. 

Fuck. 

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet. 

You know exactly where he is. And he knows you know. 

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’ 

You know exactly where it is. No one else will touch it. 

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth down on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass. 

No one serves him but you. 

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you. 

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year. 

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath. 

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.  

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,”  he responded. 

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased. 

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you. 

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it. 

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink. 

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself. 

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.” 

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.” 

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” 

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.” 

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation. 

No one calls the Devil by his first name. 

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to. 

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives. 

No one except you. 

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is. 

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that. 

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in. 

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night. 

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker… 

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up. 

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath. 

The King of Hell. 

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end. 

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon. 

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging. 

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers. 

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully. 

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity. 

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive. 

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again. 

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well. 

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while. 

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was. 

And maybe he is. 

But not to you. 

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow. 

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him. 

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world. 

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you. 

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find. 

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, and pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos. 

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside. 

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor. 

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding. 

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system. 

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth. 

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing. 

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer. 

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.” 

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target. 

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own. 

Yoongi. 

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself. 

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real. 

And he looks like sin incarnate. 

Fitting. 

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you. 

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on. 

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved. 

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you. 

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises. 

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night. 

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse. 

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him. 

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”  

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate. 

“Yes.” 

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body. 

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.” 

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now. 

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening. 

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you. 

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant. 

Beautiful. 

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says. 

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you. 

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers. 

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you. 

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring. 

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear. 

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait— 

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse. 

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” 

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. You get up quickly. 

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you every get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’. 

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him. 

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides. 

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it. 

You’ve decided. 

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power. 

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years. 

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back. 

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club. 

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait. 

And apparently neither does Yoongi. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate. 

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil. 

You trust Yoongi. 

“That's a good girl.” 

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft. 

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people? 

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on. 

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get. 

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight. 

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent. 

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea. 

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh. 

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off. 

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?” 

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs. 

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you. 

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.” 

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. 

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge. 

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look. 

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded. 

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter. 

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip. 

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue. 

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings prodigy your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.” 

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?” 

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get. 

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it. 

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt. 

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines. 

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before. 

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can. You open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip. 

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him. 

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it. 

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.” 

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures. 

You’re the most powerful person here. 

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible. 

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know. 

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you do, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier, both of you groaning at the contact. 

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets. 

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace. 

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them. 

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you. 

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else. 

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal. 

Perfect in every single way. 

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too. 

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back. 

Not yet. 

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling. 

Ever.  

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more. 

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence. 

There was only you. 

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He existed only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows. 

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming. 

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance. 

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white. 

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need. 

It’s yours. 

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze. 

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented. 

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?” 

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?” 

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before. 

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. 

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.” 

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.” 

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him. 

You just know it. 

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless. 

You never expected anything like that. 

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years. 

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better. 

Because of you.  

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that. 

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly. 

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell. 

He was yours now. 

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.  

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

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

Somebody Does Love | MYG - They Meet Again

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage. This is the one where fate plays games and Sammy plays Cupid. Part 3 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 2.2k

Warnings - lil swearing, SMOKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH! nothing else I can think of

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona

A/N - I have been in some of the worst times folks. Slipped back into depression. Lost people. Learnt lessons. Still very much in love with our honey boy though. The day I wrote this was one of the very bad days and I am typing this note through my hazy glasses because of these bloody tears. Excuse the typos, and grammar errors. Do not have the energy to proofread. Please be kind. Do like, comment and reblog. Thank you! Here goes nothing.

What was he thinking? Just how drunk was he? Why is he considering going? It’s just a jacket. He has dozens of those. Yoongi nervously bounced his legs as the rest of his body sat very still on the dressing room chair. Two different brushes - no one brush and a sponge - were being lightly tapped against his face now and a pair of hands were insistently tugging at his half-wet hair trying to style it. This was the last look for a magazine cover shoot. Even as he stared straight into the mirror, he thought back to a small cat and their rescuer. 

The next hour and forty minutes passed agonisingly slow. As soon as the director announced wrap, Yoongi was up and halfway out of the satin shirt he was in. By the time he reached the dressing room, he discarded it completely. Soojin, his manager, rushed in after him and asked as he shut the door, “You are really going?”

Yoongi placed the rings and earrings he had taken off on Soojin’s extended hands and nodded as he put his own t-shirt on.

“It is too public, Yoongi-ah…” the older gentleman tried to reason one last time as he saw the other scrub his face hastily off with a few makeup removal wipes.

“How will they know?” the rapper turned around, now having completed his outfit with a cap, a sunglass and a mask.

“They know you by the shape of your head and the size of your shoulder. You really want to risk it?”

“I am not risking anything. You are driving me there,” Yoongi said with a smirk evident in his tone. 

Soojin was left looking at the open door of the dressing room that now had the stylist and a couple of other members of the crew walk in. He handed over the jewellery he was holding from earlier, bid goodbye and jogged off to his car. 

---------------------------------------------------------

You were sat at the cafe sipping on your second latte of the evening. Tapping on your screen to check the time, you let out a yawn. 6:53. Well, maybe you could excuse an hour’s delay. Weekend traffic. Maybe he overslept? As much as you were grateful to Yong-ho, you were also hoping to see his face today. There are not many things you know about him. He has a deep, soothing voice. He smells nice. He is rich enough to casually wear designer jackets. He is kind, helpful and polite. Thoughtful. He is also quite patient. And his eyes. His eyes were beautiful. Solemn but with a shine that could make someone comfortable. 

Comfortable. Why did a stranger you met for half an hour register as comfortable to you? Your phone chimed. A message from Sammy. - Done yet? “Still waiting” - Wtf

- I don’t think he will show up then - I told you it’s a perfect fit for me

- Let me keep it

You chuckled at the series of messages.

“I will wait till 7:30”

- Then meet me directly at Hajoon’s place

- I will put out food for Ash

“Thanks, man. See ya soon” You closed the chat and smiled down at your wallpaper. Ash fast asleep on Woolfie’s back. The kitten and the dog had gotten along exceptionally well. After Woolfie peed on the kitchen floor when baby Ash hissed at him from Sammy’s lap on the first night, there had been no major issues. Ash had tried once to drink from the dog’s bowl the next day and had fallen into it. You fetched her out and dried her up with a hand towel, and the rest of it, Woolfie had licked clean. That night was the first time they napped together.

---------------------------------------------------------

Yoongi sat on the floor near the sofa where Yijeong and Hoseok were playing FC24. Hoseok was leading by 3 goals. Yijeong almost threw his controller at him in frustration, as the rest of the small group around them chuckled and watched the game progress. 

Yoongi also stared at the screen but his mind wandered far away from the game and his friends. His hands absent-mindedly tugged at the inseam of his jeans. 

As Soojin pulled up in front of the cafe earlier that evening, he could feel the sweat drip down his spine inside the air-conditioned car. He stared for a few seconds at the road in front of the car before turning his head towards the cafe you had agreed to meet at. As if it was an attempt to allow himself to catch a breath and just appear cool, just in his own head. A failed attempt at that. 

Even though he turned to look at the cafe from his car seat, he had not expected you to sit right at the window from where he was parked not even 4 whole metres away. Thankfully you were facing sideways, staring at something inside the cafe that Yoongi could not see. If only you were to turn towards the window to your left, your line of vision would directly collide with the tinted window of Yoongi’s car. 

Soojin coughed lightly from beside him. Yoongi only blinked a couple of times before he shut his slightly agape mouth and swallowed the breath that he didn’t know was stuck at his throat. He saw your face move down towards the table, presumably where your phone was. Phone. Why didn’t he exchange numbers back then? He knows why. Well, he could have given Soojin’s number at least. They could arrange for a more discreet pickup. 

Fuck the pickup. Yoongi had half forgotten that this meeting was about picking up the jacket he had lent you to wrap the rescued kitten in. Sure, that was the reason he gave Soojin that morning when he said he had to make a stop after the shoot. But for the whole weekend, his head had been clouded with your face. And your cooing voice at the kitten. And your bright smile as you introduced yourself. And the smell of your perfume and/or your shampoo that encircled you.

Looking forward to Sunday evening, he felt a tightness in his chest and stomach that could have been mistaken for trapped gas. But he knew this feeling all too well. It was anticipation. He has felt it for years ahead of each show or some big live interviews. He would also feel it once for someone he used to date. But that is what is odd. 

Sunday evening was not a date. Hell, he even felt creeped out by the fact that his feelings mirrored something akin to what he would feel like in anticipation of dates. Of course, it wasn’t even his intention to turn a simple transaction meeting into a date. But he had also not expected the sleepless nights that followed meeting you. And the half-written lyrics of a song on his phone. Nor did he expect the feeling of missing somebody he had exchanged less than 20 lines of dialogue with. 

When you had asked how to return his jacket, he almost wanted to say that you didn’t need to. Luckily, even within the first second, his mind deemed it too off-handed of a statement to make and he saw the cafe logo in his peripheral vision. Before he started overthinking and/or asked to exchange numbers, he pointed at the cafe and said, “How about we meet at that cafe on Sunday evening?”

And there he was. Outside the cafe. On Sunday evening. Almost having a panic attack in the safe confines of his car.

He could walk out of the car and into the cafe. He could walk up to you and say hello. He could make small talk for a couple of minutes. He could take back his jacket and thank you politely. He could then walk back out. 

He could. But he didn’t want to.

He did not want to make small talk with you. He wanted to know how you were doing. How your days have been. If you have slept the three nights just as sleeplessly. He also wanted to know how the kitten was doing. How the two of you were getting along. If you had any other pets. If yes, how many. If all of them were getting along. If the pets had another parent. He wanted to ask you so many things and he wanted to hear you say so much.

The cafe was not at its busiest. Even from where Yoongi was, he could see a few empty tables. He drew in a deep breath and placed his fingers lightly on the door, preparing to open it. 

It was at that very moment that you turned to your left, looking out of the cafe through the window you were sitting next to. You glanced down momentarily at what presumably again was your phone and looked back out the window. 6:18. You looked at people milling around the street outside the cafe. 

But to Yoongi, you were looking right at where he was. The concept of his tinted glass windows disappeared from his comprehension as he (seemingly) held your gaze and fluttered one of his hands over Soojin’s arm, urging him to drive off. Alert as ever, the elder man started driving promptly. Yoongi “held” your gaze for as long as he could till he bumped his head against the car window, closing his eyes, inhaling and exhaling in quick succession trying to even his breathing.

He slowly slumped back down against the passenger seat of the car and unclenched the hand that he did not realise until now was clamping down on one of his knees. He stared ahead at the Sunday evening Seoul traffic, shivering a little from feeling some of his sweat dry up. Soojin turned to him at the next red light and said, “Don’t worry, Joon will understand.”

Nothing more was said in the whole car ride up to his friend’s place. Soojin dropped him off and went back to drop the car off at Yoongi’s building before heading to his own place. Yoongi had planned to drive back home with Hobi. They lived in the same building after all. 

Joon will understand. Joon will understand?Joon will not even know that the jacket he gifted his hyung last year was missing unless Yoongi told him so.

He wasn’t thinking about Joon. Nor was he thinking about the jacket. Of course, he wasn’t.

He was thinking about your slightly impatient gaze. You bun sitting lightly at the nape of your neck. Your hands that you briefly rested your face on. Your face. You. He was thinking about you. Like he had for more than than the past two days. 

He was thinking about where you were now. What you were doing. What you were thinking. What you decided to do with the jacket. If you threw it at a random trash or kept it with you. If you were cursing him. If you were complaining about him to a friend. 

He felt a cramp in his stomach that is usually indicative of nervous diarrhoea. He felt like a dick. For having stood you up, yes. But he was also disappointed at having chickened out. Maybe if he had not waited in his car at all, it would have gone over smoothly. Maybe if you hadn’t looked out at him (his general reaction) he would not have freaked out. He tried to tell himself that it was too crowded. He was too tired. And not a coward because of his stupid, random, huge ass crush on Y/N Y/LN. Someone he only met for half an hour. And spent almost all of it watching her bond with a stray kitten form by her side.

He looked up as he felt a slight kick on his back. He realised he was staring at a static screen and that his friends had all gathered over the pizzas that had now arrived. He had not noticed when even though he was the closest to the door. He got up and was making his way towards the rest of the group when the doorbell rang.

Yoongi stopped and turned around. He was the closest to the door after all. None of the others seemed to bother reacting to it anyway. He walked to the door and froze as he saw the person on the ring machine. He knew he was supposed to press a single button to unlock the door. He knew which button it was. But his head and his hands refused to cooperate. He stood frozen for a couple of seconds, staring at the screen in front of him, until the bell rang again.

Yoongi thought he heard this ring in a more muffled way as if it was coming from far away. 

It wasn’t until the third ring that someone else left the group, half a pizza stuffed in his mouth and half in his hand walked towards the door, that Yoongi could hear everything normally again. 

“Must be Y/N,” Hajoon called out, patting Yoongi on the back, and reaching over his shoulder to open the door.

After the small beep, you walked in, almost bumping into someone’s chest.

jai's ao3 recommendations: dilf!bts au

in honor of @idkjustlovingbts

#jai’s recs ○ all fic recs

Updated November 1, 2023

taegi

caramel macchiatos and bitter autumn nights (have i lost myself, or have i gained you?) by princesaadriella

student-professor relationship (they're all grown adults), mental health, university, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

↳ Min Yoongi knew that going back to school would be the death of him. But what he didn't know, was that his professor Kim Taehyung would be the one to bring him back to life.

vmin

Just Imago by SUGAohYoongiYoongi

strangers to lovers, fantasy, smut, humor, hurt/comfort

↳ Park Jimin finds out his 6-year-old daughter's imaginary friend 'Tae-Tae' is not that… imaginary, but actually an ancient creature with unimaginable superpowers and no understanding of doors.

Daddy Issues by framesandtulips

strangers to lovers, smut, this really isn't a true dilf fic but it's fucking funny and hot so i'm putting it here anyway

↳ Kim Taehyung is a dumb slut who just found out he’s expecting his eighth child with a fifth woman. Park Jimin is the caring bartender who has the perfect solution to his birth control woes.

jikook

no shutter, no film by vminsbuns

divorce, A/B/O, smut, hurt/comfort

↳ In the last three years, Jimin has been unable to answer three of his daughter's questions. Why is he and Jungkook not talking anymore? Why is Jungkook leaving? and finally, is Jungkook tired of walking?

taekook

orangeade by dagusts (raplinesvevo)

strangers to lovers, smut, minor angst

↳ The one in which Taehyung is on his cruise honeymoon alone, and Jungkook happens to be on a holiday with his daughter. A fair amount of margaritas, father ocean, and spilled juice.

DND (dilf next door) by etherealxkookie

A/B/O, neighbors to lovers, smut, fluff

↳ Taehyung is perfectly happy, thank you very much, and not at all bothered by his new hot neighbor who reminds him of just how not lonely he is.

bullet with butterfly wings by locks

strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, the first mxm fic i ever read and one of my ult favorites 🥹

↳ Jeongguk hires Taehyung to teach his son how to play the guitar, but Taehyung ends up teaching Jeongguk something about himself.

syringes, spoons and sippy cups by firewaterkv

vampires, enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

↳ When Jeongguk decides to take care of a baby he finds abandoned one night, he realizes it might be the most difficult thing he’s ever experienced in his two hundred and twenty one year old life. Not knowing the right things to do, he reluctantly asks his once best friend turned enemy Taehyung for help, and as the days pass by, finds the piece that he’s been missing all his life.

Two Dads (better than none) by moontaes

strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, mild hurt/comfort

↳ Taehyung adopts a child, not expecting the real father to be knocking on his door days later, claiming he only found out now his ex had been pregnant.

crossed wires by taecheeks

exes to lovers, angst, humor, smut, telepathy

↳ Taehyung can read minds, and unfortunately, his ex also knows about this secret. Whenever they are at the same place, Jungkook keeps thinking about their mind-blowing sex and Taehyung keeps squirming in his place.

forest bride — myg

FOREST BRIDE | Min Yoongi | Oneshot | Requested by Anon

Original Request: hii i would like to request an arranged marriage au that turned out as a healthy relationship, unlike where oc came from y'know family full of mistreatment and favoritism. any member is fine! thank u! Plot: The business transaction of a marriage between two previous warring clans takes an unexpected turn. Pairing: Yoongi x OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Historical Inspired | Arranged Marriage Rating: 18+ Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: emotionally distanced family dynamics, emotional abuse and bullying from family members, minor character death (mentioned), angst, explicit sexual content (unprotected, gentle). Author's Note: This was soo much fun to do! I hope you like reading it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this <3

Kiku was a quiet daughter amongst children of four in the Moon Clan. She was in the middle of the line of birth, often keeping to herself while her father doted on her brothers and her mother babied Hanaka, her sister. Kaito, the oldest son of their family, was the only person who ever paid attention Kiku.

He taught her how to play the Koto when they were younger. The soft plucking of strings were the only sounds she made in her household. Her mother, Keiko complimented the sound with the assumption that it was Hanaka. When Kaito explained that it was Kiku, their mother pointed the lack of precision at the ends of each verse.

Kiku felt safe and comforted under the wing of Kaito.

But fate had other plans.

Kaito grew sick after a hunting wound turned gangrenous and the winter only worsened his condition. When he passed, Kiku felt the searing and back-breaking weight of her family's scrutiny.

Suddenly she was no longer Kaito's companion. She was a mouth they didn't want to feed.

On the fresh cusp of spring, her parents unceremoniously announced her arrangement to marry the chief of the Onyx clan. Their rival.

"Kaito said they were dangerous," Kiku said as she knelt on the ground of their main living area. Her parents stared down at her while Hanaka and their younger brother Haruki sat on the cushioned mat.

"Kaito isn't here. Don't name him when we haven't finished mourning, stupid girl," Keiko spoke through gritted teeth.

"You will marry Chief Min Yoongi and give this family an important alliance," Daiki said with a finality to his tone.

The Onyx Clan was notorious for raiding other clans, enslaving their high-born families and treating any foreign spouses like dirt. Preventing them from causing any problems in the Moon Clan was to keep them at bay with something that they didn't think was a risk.

Keiko would never send Hanaka to a place like that. Perhaps Kiku was prepared specifically for this very alliance, forcing themselves not to love her so they could make a difficult decision. Perhaps that was just her own heart trying to find a glimpse of love in a place that had none for her since the beginning.

Kiku lowered her head in a solemn acceptance, her dress still black and her heart still raw from mourning the only family member who loved her. "I will do as you wish."

-

The wedding flourished during a misty, cold morning just at the skirts of dawn where purple kissed the edges of the mountains. Kiku wore a white dress of pretty silk, embroidered in both ivory and crimson thread as if the cloth bled. A white veil laid over her head giving the world around her more of a misty vision.

They held the wedding in the central border between the Moon and Onyx Clan. There was a gentle plain where it was decorated with flowers, divided with wood and a tea set prepared on a small wooden table. Her father walked her over to the table.

Kiku forced herself not to look at her groom just yet. Instead staring at the teapot in front of them, spouting a plume of steam with the faint hint of jasmine and honey in her nose. Tea ceremonies during weddings were a common tradition amongst both clans. Thankfully, it was a tea that Kiku enjoyed but the symbol of it dawned on her like a heavy weight on her back.

Sharing tea with a man outside her family was a sign that she was now connected to him. Bonded to him. A man that Kiku hadn't even looked at yet. So she gained some bravery within herself and stared up.

Min Yoongi wasn't a large man but he was taller than her. In this vulnerable state, he looked like a looming statue. It wasn't necessarily his stature but his presence that created weight. His black eyes pierced deeply into her as if peeling off layers of every protective sense she had of herself.

A deep scar ran down his eye, making it a little greyer than the left eye. His lips were pursed and a little pink while his pitch black hair was long to the nape. Short hair was often a sign of a deadly warrior. Someone who killed many without mercy and had little honour. At least that was what her parents told her.

The esteemed monk stepped to the front of the altar and began to recite ancient chants of a bonding ritual. Kiku tried to focus on the words but she couldn't stop keeping Yoongi's gaze. His eyes softened just then when she wasn't loosening her gaze either. As if he was waiting for her to look at him.

For a brief moment, Kiku noticed something gentle behind that demeanour. Or perhaps it was yet again her mind tricking her into feeling something positive when her world was turning upside down and she couldn't do anything about it. Yoongi glanced briefly over to the monk as they stepped to the table.

He waved his hands as he spoke his chants before gesturing to a young boy.

It was the father's duty to pour the tea. So Daiki poured it with a solemn face, almost bored. The waft of jasmine and honey coated her nose, giving her some comfort.

The groom shared his tea with the bride first. Yoongi's hands were veined heavily as if he were training in the dark hours of the morning before coming here. He reached out carefully, slow enough so Kiku didn't feel shocked. He pulled at the fabric and revealed her face, the cold morning breeze kissing her heated up skin.

Yoongi picked the tea cup, softly placing the brim of the cup to her lips.

Kiku kept her eyes on him right until she felt the warm honey touch of the tea on her tongue. She slowly pressed her lips together as he pulled the cup away. Just as Yoongi's cup clinked down, she picked up her own cup.

Yoongi lowered his head a little, making it easy to her to gently tip the cup. He took a sip, his throat bobbed up and down before she placed it back on the table.

The ceremony had been sealed. Even as Kiku foolishly tried to look back and say goodbye to her family, her mother was already fixing Hanaka's hair and her father continued speaking to Haruki. Niether of them gave any indication that they wished for a goodbye so Kiku turned back without a word.

Yoongi held her hand, just barely brushing at first to ensure Kiku would respond.

Kiku curled her fingers around his, allowing him to fully intertwine together before making way to the horses.

Yoongi clasped her waist, pushing her up to sit on the horse. Then he sat behind her, grabbing the reins as the scent of rain wafted in Kiku's nose.

The air turned wet to the touch and she noticed the darkened splotches on the tree bark of a soft drizzle slowly turning to gentle rain.

"Are you sure you don't want to speak to them?" Yoongi uttered his first question as her husband and Kiku wasn't sure how to respond or feel.

Kiku glanced briefly at her family, seeing Haruki rubbing his brow in boredom while her mother was still having a conversation with Hanaka, touching her chin. Still none of them tried to look her away. "It's alright."

Yoongi didn't order the horse to move for a few minutes before a small hum vibrated through his chest, tingling her back. "Very well," he said. He made a clicking noise and the horse began to gallop at a steady pace.

The forest that was considered Moon Clan's territory was an identical stream of teal leaved trees and small wildflowers, clustered amongst light brown mushrooms and wet lands. Kiku enjoyed walking through them purely because it was peace outside of her household.

However, Onyx Clan's territory harboured something so different that it almost felt magical. There were still those collections of teal leaved trees that wafted a sweet scent. Other than that, she saw patches of yellow and pink flowers, flat mushrooms that blushed at the edges and pretty deep green vines that wrapped around dark tree bark.

The sun began peeking a sharp light at the edge of the mountains, making the distant rivers look like melted gold.

The Onyx Clan itself was a beautiful village, with calmly sleeping cows and horses in their stables. Night food stalls open for business as families were out to eat chilli noodles and honeycomb candy. Moon Clan was so used to clean diets and fresh fish that the deep, spiced notes of the stalls overwhelmed Kiku, reminding her even more than she wasn't in her old household anymore.

People of the Onyx Clan gave way when they noticed Yoongi riding into the village. Their faces filled with smiles and excited whispers as they noticed her white dress. A little girl waved shyly at her.

Kiku hesitated but waved back with a faint smile.

As they arrived to the main cluster of houses for the high-born Min family, Kiku saw a group of people waiting for them.

Yoongi jumped off the house with a thud before gently holding onto Kiku again and helping her onto the ground as well. A small set of stairs led up to the cluster of houses.

When they reached, the older woman in centre gave a kind smile. By the way she was dressed in a beautiful silk kimono and the way Yoongi bowed low when seeing her, Kiku knew she was the matriarch of the family. Seeing so much kindness after her grief was something Kiku hadn't prepared herself to expect. So for a moment, she felt lost and unable to respond. She managed to give a wide enough smile.

"Bloody hell, Yoongi, you scared the shit out of her," a young woman from the side chuckled. Not in mockery but just jovial nature.

"Yun," the older woman reprimanded with a serious expression. "Manners." She turned back to Kiku with a smile. "Sorry, my dear, I understand you're in a new place. And our clans haven't had the best relationship but you are family now." She reached out and touched her hand.

Kiku could've been moved to tears at a warm mother's touch but she kept herself strong.

"My name is Hwayoung," she said. "These are my daughters Nari and Yun. I have a son named Yeong but he's away on a trip and will return tomorrow."

Kiku nodded. "It's lovely to meet you."

Hwayoung's flickered to Yoongi. "Let's have dinner and then you both can go rest."

After their dinner concluded and Kiku's belly was warm, they convened back to their bed chambers.

Kiku was given night dresses and also new clothes for the next few days. Especially since her family didn't give her any dress to take except for one.

For a while, the room was left empty with just Kiku watching the fire flicker before skimming through the books laid upon the mantle. It was mostly war and history stories along with some manuals on mastering the sword. Kiku wished she had some books on the Koto to play and fill her days that didn't have to do with having Yoongi's children. But she wasn't sure.

Hwayoung and Yoongi's sisters seemed nice enough but there was no way of telling whether it was a momentary ruse. After all, they couldn't be rude to her in front of everyone. Although a part of Kiku wanted to believe that their kind faces were genuine.

The door then clicked open. Yoongi walked through, wearing a relaxed black silk shirt and his hair tousled as if he had just taken a bath. He closed the door behind him, expression taken aback for a moment as if he hadn't expected someone in his bed chambers before softening.

"Do you have everything you need?" Yoongi asked.

"Yes, thank you." Kiku walked forward to him as he sat at the edge of the bed. She didn't say anything yet but Yoongi's throat bobbed up and down.

Stammering, he said. "We can just sleep."

Kiku blinked curiously. Of all the things she expected, this wasn't one of them. It was relieving that he was kind but to completely let her adjust to the new place was not on the list of expectation. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Yoongi said, keeping his eyes on her. "It's been a long day. We should both rest."

Kiku intertwined her fingers together and nodded, feeling a strange warmth in her chest. "Alright. Good night."

-

In the morning, Kiku awoke to an empty space in her bed. When one of the maidservants entered to serve her, she explained that Yoongi went out to train early in the morning just before breakfast to keep him awake.

Kiku hoped she didn't look scared to deter him into performing any marital duties. Perhaps throughout the day, she could try to comfort him. She knew what she was getting into.

After taking a warm bath with the maidservant being surprisingly gentle and kind, Kiku was called into breakfast by Hwayoung.

The Min family gathered under a gazebo structure made from black wood. It was round and the food laid out smelled like home in a place that hadn't been her home for a full day yet. Baked fish, soups, rice, fruits for sweetness. It was a spread for something that usually rushed in her family. Or at least Kiku would have to eat quickly.

Kiku sat down next to Yoongi while Yun and Nari continued on their conversation. Yoongi's brother, Yeong came in from his trip and he looked a softer compared to his older brother and smiled often. Usually making jokes with his mother.

Yoongi ate fish and seemed to prefer the soups over rice.

While the others were deep in their conversation, Kiku leaned in slightly. "How was training?" she asked.

Yoongi looked up, again a little shocked but quickly softened. "It was good."

"Yoongi gets quite sore after his training, Kiku," Yun said with a small smirk. "Maybe later in the afternoon, you should give him a massage. Lord knows he needs a good one."

Yoongi glared for a moment but Kiku found it endearing.

"Yun," Hwayoung reprimanded but with a playful air this time rather than the disciplinary one of last night. "Kiku should not be forced to do anything she doesn't want to."

Kiku stammered. "I'm alright with it. I used to give shoulder massages to my brother all the time."

Yoongi cleared his throat. "It's really alright." He nodded.

Kiku smiled politely, lowering her head.

"Perhaps Kiku should come spend the day with us since brother insists on being boring," Yun said.

"I am new here," Kiku said.

"A tour then," Nari said.

Hwayoung perked up. "You can take her down to the markets and get some silks or jewellery. There's lots of music playing there too."

Kiku blinked curiously. "Would there be any Koto players?"

"You like the Koto?" Hwayoung asked.

"My brother taught me how to play." Kiku's heart clenched at the mention of him again. It had been so lovely to be in a place like this. How nice would it have been if their family all spoke so easily to one another.

"That's sweet. How is your brother now?"

"He's passed away," Kiku said.

"I'm sorry, my dear." Hwayoung's eyes turned sad. Both of empathy for her but something else. "I lost my husband a while ago as well. I understand it can feel empty." The table turned quiet for a few moments to remember their father

"Thank you." Kiku's words were simple but Hwayoung didn't fully realise just how much comforting words directed at her. Like a warm, tight hug that she could cry into.

-

Kiku spent her time walking around with Yun and Nari as they explained all the ins and outs of the clan's main village. They had three smaller towns that used the same supplies and answered to Yoongi as Chief but this was the clan that Yoongi's ancestors had built and it was beautiful.

Nari took her to the bookshop and silk store. Kiku bought herself a pretty purple silk dress while also getting books on poetry that she used to enjoy listening to. A poetess would visit their clan when they were younger and Kaito would work in the shadow puppet shows to re-enact them.

It was one of the few things Kiku was allowed to watch with the family while helping Kaito work with the puppets.

Then they went to the food stalls. Kiku ate spicy dumpling noodles with mushrooms foraged from the forest. Apparently they helped with childbearing as the old woman stated, clearly knowing that it was going to be her who bears the next Chief. Kiku hadn't quite let that sink in but even when she did think about it, it wasn't a horrible thought.

Kiku, Yun and Nari then made their way to the training grounds once their bellies were full and their cheeks hurt from laughing. Kiku hadn't laughed or smiled like this since Kaito made jokes to cheer her up. While they did bicker, Yun and Nari seemed like they were close and loving to one another.

Kiku wondered if Hanaka and her would have ever been like that if their mother didn't get involved so much.

At the centre of the training grounds, Kiku saw Yoongi training with his younger brother Yeong. He spoke instructions for Yeong to follow, keeping one hand behind his back as if to hinder himself from making any strong moves. Yeong kept his hands tight on the hilt of the sword, swinging right against Yoongi's parries as the clang of steel whistled in the air.

Kiku found herself seeing the concentrated scrunch of his dark brows, sharp jawline a little clenched as he parried another attack. His black hair was tied back with chunks of it falling over the frame of his face. "He does this every morning."

Yun hummed. "You like what you see?"

Kiku cleared her throat. "It's nice he's teaching his brother."

"Yeong should focus on his studies too but he keeps running to brother for more training," Nari said. "Yoongi never refuses. He likes training for no reason."

"Ever since father died, brother trains constantly. There's no war but he always says there might be danger," Yun said. "Even with your alliance, he's still weary." Nari quickly nudged her arm and for the first time, Yun felt a little uncomfortable.

Kiku pursed her lips together. She wondered if Yoongi was suspicious that her father would run an attack on them regardless of their alliance. While Kiku was a small risk to lose in the family, her father still may break the deal. She had little trust in her father and wouldn't be surprised if he wishes to prove some kind of point.

As she shifted in and out of her thoughts, Kiku saw Yoongi turn to notice them watching. Notice her watching. Kiku tried to look down at the wrapped silk dress in her arms, hoping it wouldn't look too suspicious. Yoongi turned to tell Yeong to take a break before making his way over to Kiku.

"Looks like your husband wishes to speak to you." Yun smirked, returning to her demeanour as if nothing happened. She pushed Nari towards Yeong to speak to him instead.

Yoongi raised his brow as his sisters rushed away. Beads of sweat had formed on his hairline as he met Kiku's gaze. "They didn't bother you too much?"

Kiku was shocked by what sounded like a genuine question. "No. They were lovely. They showed me around the main town."

"I can see that," Yoongi said before giving his sword away to a servant. "Come with me."

Kiku nodded and followed him out of the training grounds.

They moved from the training grounds back into the cluster of houses where the Min family resided. Yoongi escorted her to their personal house and Kiku wondered whether Yoongi wanted to pursue their marital duties now that he was given time.

It was strange but Kiku's heart pounded not quite out of fear or worry. It was simply curiosity and perhaps even a little excitement. Everything Yoongi had done so far was give her comfort.

As they entered the main house, a beautiful polished Koto stood in the living area.

Kiku's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the Koto which had beautiful ivory finishes and a soft chair to sit on while playing. "Is this for me?" she asked in a low tone.

"You said you used to play Koto. I figured you'd like to play in your free time," Yoongi said. "Your parents didn't pack much for your trip." He shrugged.

Kiku's lips parted as she reached out and touched the Koto. Memories of playing with her brother and learning every note with him burst in her like sweetness. Tears formed a thin gloss on her eyes, as she took a deep breath.

"Is it alright?" Yoongi asked.

"It's perfect," Kiku said. She turned and smiled. "Thank you. You didn't need to do that."

"It was nothing," Yoongi said. "It's your home now too."

Kiku nodded as her heart swelled.

"Also if my mother starts giving you too many lessons, I can get you a secret room."

Kiku let out a small chuckle. "It's okay. I'd like a lesson."

Yoongi pressed his lips together, a hint of a soft smile forming on his features which only made Kiku's heart warm.

-

Kiku's time in the Onyx Clan was far more pleasant and loving than she ever expected. Before she even realised, four months had passed. Kiku spent days with Yun and Nari, had meals with Hwayoung and then spent a quiet night with Yoongi. It was still innocent between the two of them but she enjoyed those quiet moments sharing things about their day. Yoongi still didn't speak on any personal things and Kiku didn't want to pry on how he got the scar on his eye or about his father's death. But it was still nice.

Kiku nearly forgot that she had another life prior to these few months. It was only when her younger brother, Haruki came to visit the clan. Discomfort returned to her chest, aching and making her twitch. She barely spoke to Haruki and every time they had a conversation, it was malicious. Haruki found joy in insulting her and demanding her to do things as a way to mimic their father.

Kiku reminded herself that she wasn't in that place anymore. This was her home too. She wore her new purple silk dress and pinned her hair up while the servants prepared a tea set on the floor table.

Haruki entered the private house as escorted by the servants. A childish grimace on his face as always but his chest puffed to look like father.

Kiku kept sited at the table.

Haruki stood over her for a few moments as if waiting for her to stand. "You wouldn't bother to see your brother at the border."

"You've come at a busy hour," Kiku said. Truthfully, she wanted to be in the warm comfort of her home to breathe easy and hide her shaking fingers. "What did you need?"

Haruki scoffed and sat down, tapping the side of the teacup. "Father's dead."

Kiku had little love for her father but she still sit in a moment of silence, unable to know what do with the news. "What happened?"

"We need more supplies," Haruki said, ignoring her question.

It was courtesy anyway so she didn't ask again. "The Moon clan has spare granaries for those occasions."

"We have an alliance." Haruki eyed her up and down. "I'd expect you to tend to it since you're clearly not tending to any children."

"What happened to the granaries, Haruki?" Kiku asked, emphasising his name.

Haruki pursed her lips, keeping his eyes on her gaze and waiting for her to look down. When she didn't, Haruki's face twitched. "We'd been using it."

"For what?"

"That's none of your concern," Haruki said.

"So not emergencies then," Kiku said.

"You can't speak to me that way." Haruki chuckled bitterly.

"I'm the Lady of this territory and your older sister, I can speak to you in whatever tone is necessary." Kiku narrowed her gaze. "What happened?"

Haruki tightened his jaw like a stubborn child. "We'd been taking from it for the banquets. Father and mother celebrated a lot because you were gone."

"And after brother's death," Kiku said.

"Don't talk about brother."

"He was my brother too. More a brother than you ever were."

Poison laced in his voice. "Kaito spent time with you because he felt bad for you. You were this pathetic thing crouching around everywhere. The only time people said anything nice about you was in order to fuck you. Don't pretend you were someone special to him or Yoongi." Haruki gestured to the door. "He's not even willing to put a baby in you." He chuckled.

"I don't appreciate being spoken for, Chief Min," Yoongi's deep voice shook through the room.

Haruki turned his head, expression turning sour.

Yoongi walked into the house, shadows forming harsh lines on his face as something dark flashes across his expression. For a moment, he looked like the exact nightmarish image of what the Moon clan thought of the Min family. Even barefooted steps added a heavy echo in the air that it sent chills down her own spine despite the fact she knew this demeanour wasn't for her intimidation. "You can have your supplies at the border."

Haruki deflated as if letting out a sigh of relief. "I should've gone to you first then, Chief. It seems I expected too much of my silly sister." He gave a triumphant smile to her.

"Of course, she made the mistake of thinking you were far too competent." Yoongi intertwined his fingers together, veined and hardened from training.

Haruki's expression turned again, cheeks reddening. "Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, I won't make that mistake." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Perhaps we'll have a charity basket at the border."

Haruki stood to his feet quickly, shaking and trembling like a little boy. "You go too far."

"Do I? Because it seems as if you've come here asking for more than the agreed alliance and proceeding to disrespect my wife," Yoongi said. "The way I see it, giving you a charity basket is more mercy than you deserve currently. I suggest you take it quietly."

Haruki had all the inflated confidence their parents bloated into him from childhood. If he was even the slightest bit stupider, he would speak and in a brief second of that stupidity, he almost did. But then he glared at Kiku. "You'd let him talk to your family like that?"

Anger spread through her chest. Now he wanted to be family, when it benefited him. "If only you were true family then perhaps not."

Haruki grimaced, giving a softer glare to Yoongi before turning on his heel and stomping out of the house.

Kiku let out a deep, shaky breath as her spine began to ache from the tension. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her calm again, taking the scent of wood and warmth in her comfortable home. She heard Yoongi moving until she heard his hum right at her ear.

"Quite the unpleasant family you have," Yoongi mused.

Kiku couldn't help but let out a small, saddened chuckle. "Kaito was the only good one."

Yoongi turned and sat down next to her, shoulders pressed.

The heaviness gave Kiku a wave of comfort like the way his breath hit the back of his neck when they slept.

"If he comes again, I'll ask the guards to delegate him to me or my mother," Yoongi said. "There's no need for you to speak to them if you don't want to."

"You won't be burdened by them?" Kiku asked, turning her head and finding his face incredibly close.

"No one should speak like that to you especially not in our own house." Yoongi waved his hand.

Kiku smiled as her heart burst into little butterflies, creating a lump in her throat. She leaned in and pressed a small kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi turned his head just as Kiku was pulling away, their noses brushed against each other. Dark eyes pierced into her, keeping her still in her position even though her body ached for how close they were. Yoongi kissed her lips, shyly at first to help her adjust to the action.

The tantalizing warmth that passed through Kiku pushed her to lean into the kiss, cupping his cheek. Yoongi's hands held onto her lower back pulling her close until she was pressed flush against his chest.

His lips were hot against hers, keeping his grip on her firm but so soft and gentle. Yoongi only broke the kiss for a moment as Kiku caught a deep breath before pressing her lips again. She gripped onto the fabric of his shirt until Yoongi pulled her enough for her to straddle him completely.

Yoongi held her face in his hand, pausing their kiss again to move his lips down to her neck and jawline. Every ache that she felt from her encounter with Haruki melted away at his touch. He pulled at the pins of her hair, letting it fall down the trail of her back. His fingers traced the length of her spine, making her shiver. Tongue grazed over the soft spot on her neck as her hips began to sway against his own.

Yoongi let out a small groan, lifting his head up. His chest heaved in desperation, gripping onto her hair and keeping their foreheads pressed together.

Kiku reached in again but Yoongi kept her in place.

"Are you sure?" Yoongi asked in a rasped voice that made her tremble.

Kiku nodded. "I'm sure." She reached in and kissed him again, deeper and pleading to ensure he knew this was what she wanted.

But a knock on the door startled them.

Yoongi let out a small, frustrated sigh. "What is it?" he asked.

Kiku got off his lap slowly with a clear of her throat, trying to fix her hair as the door opened to a servant.

"Sorry, sire. Your mother needs your audience for something." The servant kept their head bowed as if already knowing the position he could've caught them in.

Yoongi turned and gave Kiku a soft look.

Kiku gave a reassuring smile, patting his arm before he got to his feet and walked away. Leaving her heart pounding manically.

-

Another week passed since their kiss. Yoongi wasn't distant necessarily but it did feel like nothing changed. Kiku wondered perhaps he didn't enjoy it. He was the Chief and had many choices of his own. Kiku was an alliance marriage. Any affection that they developed may have just been a spur of the moment as they lived under the same roof. Despite all the explanations she's made in her head, it still twinged something in Kiku. With the kindness received from Yoongis family, she imagined that something would be wrong. She traded a kinder family for a husband that didn't quite enjoy her affection. She'd take it though.

This morning, the family sat around the table for breakfast. Yoongi gave her a glance here and there but it was still distant. Kiku tried to smile back but he immediately looked away.

"So Kiku has been immensely calm these past few days," Yun said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Ma says it's often a sign of...something on the way." Her eyes flickered down to gesture to her stomach.

Kiku's cheeks burned, stammering. "No, it's not that." She shook her head. "I had my bleeding." She couldn't quite hide the slight disappointment in her tone. Kiku never thought about children especially with the experiences she had with her own family. But something about the silence from Yoongi made grasp at unnecessary desires of children or anything to melt off the ice between them.

Yun hummed, pouting. "That's a shame, I wanted nieces and nephews." She poked at her food, the light breeze making strands of her dark hair dance.

"Don't pressure them," Nari said, her tone serious. "They need to be relaxed when they do it."

"Girls, quiet." Hwayoung narrowed her gaze, letting out a defeated sigh. "Don't listen to them." She smiled. "These things take time."

Yoongi stayed silent and Kiku herself couldn't find anything to say but give a reassuring smile. Even though she worried Yoongi won't come near her a second time.

-

Kiku played her Koto in the afternoon while Yoongi was out supervising the patrol. Usually it would take him till evening to come back. But today he came in early, stomping and breathing out with frustration. A strange sight from someone who was so calm. Raven black hair glistened from sweat, patches of dust latched onto his skin and his jaw terribly tightened as if it might make break his teeth.

Strangely enough, it was relieving to see some emotion in Yoongi after all the distance. Kiku stood from the Koto. "What's wrong?" She asked gently.

"Your damn brother," he seethed. "His men attacked one of my scouts." Yoongi poured water into a goblet and chugged it.

Kiku's heart dropped. "What?"

"Apparently they'd been disturbing the peace. But they didn't plan for me to come." His scar looked deeper and darker when he was angry. "Mother was weary about them for a while but I didn't think they'd stoop to petty little violence."

Kiku lowered her head, almost in shame. Even though she felt more connected to Yoongi's family, her name and identity was still attached to the people she grew up with. It was embarrassing seeing others witness the pettiness that she endured her whole life. The same pettiness that Kaito hated. "I'm sorry," she said.

Yoongi stilled for a moment, dark brows furrowed as he turned to Kiku. "Why're you apologizing?"

Kiku stammered. "It's my family. They're like this, our parents made you all seem like monsters and Haruki would do anything to make himself feel like father would be proud." She shook her head.

"Well, that's their mistake, not yours." Yoongi spoke under her breath but Kiku clung to every word and kept it close to her chest.

She reached out and touched his arm. "Is there anything I can do?"

Yoongi stared at her deeply and so long that Kiku felt like layers of her soul were being peeled. Then he broke the gaze and tried to walk back to their bedroom. "No, it's okay."

Kiku's stomach clenched as once again, the ice began to form. But this time she wasn't going relent quietly. "Yoongi, you don't have to protect my feelings. If this is too much of a burden to you then I can leave."

Yoongi stopped, looking over his shoulder to her. The expression on his face, harsh. "What?"

Kiku dug her nails into her palms to give herself some form of strength. "I can handle my family, I've lived with them my whole life. But...I don't want you to be married to someone you don't truly want."

Yoongi's throat bobbed up and down. "Is that what you think?"

"I don't know," she spoke honestly. "I just know that you became distant after what happened and I—I'm unsure."

Yoongi fully turned his body around, stepping closer. "If you're unsure, then you talk to me."

"I can't speak my wishes so easily." Kiku's voice lowered as he moved closer until she could catch wafts of the forest from him. "It's not something I'm used to."

Yoongi's expression softened. He rubbed in between his brows. "I'm a little too used to my family just saying what they think." He looked up to her. "I'm sorry. I should've checked on you."

Kiki's stomach felt warm. staying silent for a moment just to ensure what she heard was right. Then she spoke in a small voice. "It's okay."

Yoongi took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together turning her world into a burst of stars. "I will not make you go back to that place again." He muttered. "I want you here."

"You want me here?" She asked again, just to hear him say it so it could echo inside her whenever darker voices grew too loud.

"Right here. With me." Yoongi tightened his hold. "Will you do that?"

Kiku nodded, a burning behind her eyes. "I will, I promise." She smiled, touching his chest to make herself feel grounded again.

"We still need to deal with your stupid brother," Yoongi said. "He's quickly turning into a pest than an ally."

Kiku could spend years imagining Haruki as this invincible monster, similar to when they were children. But this was real now. Haruki wasn't Kaito. He was stupid and petty even when he tried to hurt her. There were a million ways to get rid of people like that. "I might have an idea."

-

As Kiku requested, Yoongi organized a meeting at the border between Onyx and Moon territory. A canopy was erected with a floor table where they all sat together. The edge of dawn painted the mountains and tree in a burnished gold and the scent of morning dew was the only comfort in Kiku's pool of anxiety.

She was prepared for this meeting and the decisions entailed but rarely had she spoken up to Haruki before. When Kiku tried, her mother or father would reprimand and punish her.

Even as Haruki walked to the canopy, she felt a prickle of being scolded in a few minutes. But she had push it down. She wasn't Haruki's sister here, she was a Lady of the Onyx Clan. The Chief's wife.

"This pompous meeting surely isn't about the little scuffle between scouts," Haruki said. "It's a bit of harmless fun."

Yoongi stayed silent.

"You brought your wife here too," Haruki looked Kiku up and down, making sure that he used a moniker disconnected to him.

"In regards to your previous demands, we're suggesting some changes in the alliance." Yoongi kept a calm tone even though Kiku saw the tightened grip of his hands.

Haruki chuckled. "If you don't want her anymore, just kick her out." He waved his hand. "One of your servants can have her."

Yoongi narrowed his gaze but kept his neutral expression. "As you commented on our child before, we had an idea on how to strength the bond between clans."

"And how is that?" he asked.

"Since you require our food supplies which we give to you out of kindness, we have a compromise," Yoongi said. "In exchange for our food, any child born from my wife will take the Chiefs title of the Moon clan."

Haruki's brows furrowed as his chest heaved. His glare turned to Kiku. "You put him up to this, didn't you, you bitch?"

"It was a joint decision," Kiku said, maintaining her calm demeanour. She was used to his insults. She wouldn't let it hurt her again.

"I won't agree to this, it's stupid." Haruki winced.

"Very well," Yoongi said. "Then I suggest you get your defences ready."

"What?"

"Your father must've told you how the Onyx Clan works." Yoongi began to muse and there was something... oddly satisfying about the tone. "My wolves haven't been out for a feed in a while."

"You'd attack your ally?" Haruki asked.

"Attacking my scout and disrespecting the Chiefs wife constitutes that you are breaking every rule in the alliance," Yoongi said and Haruki stayed quiet. "Giving you an alternate compromise is a mercy. I suggest you consider it. My soldiers won't care if you're a spoiled Chief who can't carry a sword properly."

Haruki grimaced, chin quivering in frustration. He looked over at Kiku, as if trying to get ready for another insult but he knew it was too late. Kiku was no longer the target to point insults at. One wrong move and Haruki loses his head along with the Moon Clan. This way they can keep their lives. Haruki was stupid but he was still too scared to die. "Fine. I accept your terms."

Yoongi hummed. "Thank you." He stood up and held onto Kiku's hand, helping her to her feet.

"What would've Kaito said about you turning your back on family?" Haruki asked, cutting into her in a place that ached like a thousand knives.

Kiku paused in place, gripping onto Yoongi's hand like her life depended on it as her heart panged in pain. Haruki knew nothing about what Kaito was like. It took her every strength and hope in her body not to throw scalding tea in his face for even insinuating that Kiku would do something to disappoint Kaito. Because Kaito wasn't like that. Kaito understood and listened. Haruki was a fool. Kiku straightened her posture, turned and looked Haruki straight in the eye. "Kaito wouldn't have caused a food shortage in the clan."

Haruki scoffed, pursing his lips together.

"Kaito did his duty, as I am. From where I'm looking, I'm not the one who made father die from disappointment." Kiku felt like a dam burst inside her as she let the words flow but seeing the Haruki's sour and pouty expression made it all worth it.

-

Kiku was able to breathe easy when they returned to their tent for the night. She walked over to her vanity and her maid immediately began taking pins out of her hair. She watched from the mirror as Yoongi unlatched his sword sheathe of his waist and began to pour himself a drink. The dark furrow of his brows prominent. Kiku raised a hand and smiled at the maid. "A moment, please."

The maid bowed and did as she asked, stepping out of the tent to give them privacy. Kiku took out the rest of the pins so her hair was fully open and relaxed. A dull throb formed on her scalp. She stood and made her way to Yoongi as he leaned forward on the table.

"He can be a lot to tolerate," Kiku said.

Yoongi took in a deep breath to calm himself down. "The way he talks to you, it's like you're complete strangers. Enemies, even."

Kiku swallowed the small lump in her throat. It was always normal to her, seeing the way family treated the one they didn't want with the exception of Kaito. But Yoongi valued family with his life. She could only imagine the kind of shock thrumming through him. "You have a good family. Some don't." She touched his arm. "But sometimes you find a better one."

Yoongi turned his head, his once sharp eyes now softened and sad. "If I've ever made you feel—"

"Not once." Kiku knew it like the breath she took. Yoongi and his family had been nothing but comforting and kind. She reached and pressed her forehead against his. It was almost involuntary but feeling him lean into it was the only answer she needed to keep still.

Yoongi turned his body slowly, letting their chest flush against one another before he leaned and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. His warm hand cupped her cheek softly like she was precious. He pulled away only to press kisses on her cheek and jawline, taking her into an embrace. He buried his face into the crook of her neck where the scent of jasmines wafted in his nose.

Kiku could fall asleep in this embrace. Her body and mind and every bruise in her heart soothed from the loving touch. She traced her fingers across the strands of his hair as if lulling the both of them to dreams. It was difficult to admit it in the past few months with the new changes and confusion. But today for the first time, she could surely say it.

Kiku felt loved.

-

The meeting had left Kiku and Yoongi tired for the evening. They rested their heads, nestled close as they tried to sleep. Tried was an effort Kiku persisted on as the hours went by. It wasn't quite a terrible night of troubling thoughts but an eagerness. She opened her eyes to see Yoongi with his eyes calmly closed, his lips a little puckered.

Kiku took a moment to watch him, reaching out a little to touch his cheek. He stirred slightly at her touch, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing steady and rhythmic. She pulled away with a defeated sigh, not wanting to wake him up. So she turned around and tried to drift off to sleep again.

It was only a few minutes later then she felt Yoongi shift, moving closer until his chest was pressed right against her back. His arm laid over her body, embracing her from behind. Kiku felt a wave of warmth and comfort wash over her as Yoongi tightened his hold.

"Can't sleep?" Yoongi asked.

Kiku hummed. "A little. It's okay, go back to sleep."

"I can be awake," Yoongis voice rasped as his face buried into the crook of her neck again. He began pressing kissing down the length of her shoulder. "Do you want me to be awake?"

Kiku smiled to herself, swaying her hips against him. "A little."

Yoongi chuckled lightly, the vibrations made her quiver in delight. He made Kiku lay on her back, climbing on top of her and sneaking between her legs. "Are you sure?" He whispered.

Kiku nodded. "I'm sure." She smiled against his lips before pressing a kiss on his bottom lip.

Yoongi kissed down the length of her neck, unravelling his night clothes and pushing up Kikus soft dress. He entered her gently, her snug walls hugging his tip before he kept pushing.

Kiku gripped onto his clothing as the sensation made her tremble under him. She swayed her hips with his movements, encouraging him to move faster. The ache was slight but the tingle of pleasure sent her into a slight dizziness. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

Yoongi brushed his fingers across her hairline, full of affection as he moved deeper inside her. He pressed sweet kisses at the corner of her lips.

Kiku smiled feverishly as the pleasure sent heat through her body, radiating like steam and intoxication.

Yoongi made sure he was slow, not just to be careful but to draw out this intimacy for as long as he could. The feeling of embrace brought back every slight desire he had in the past few months to hold or touch her. "Feel good?"

Kiku nodded, letting out a slight whimper as he continued to move at that tantalizing pace. "Good." She traced her thumb across his cheek. Strands of his hair falling over his face, curtaining over hers. Her core became slick with arousal, creating light squelch sounds as he thrusted into her with a new desperation.

His release clouded him, flooding him with an unbearable warmth until he grind himself into her. He muffled his moan against her neck.

Kiku felt his lower belly press on her sensitive spot, making her clench around him, pushing him further into his climax.

Yoongi lifted himself up, foreheads layered with sweat as they pressed against each other.

Kiku took his lips into a kiss, surging him to thrust into a steady pattern that made her lose breath. She gripped onto the side of his neck as moans broke through any form of whisper.

Yoongi quickened his pace following the pattern of her moans and the rolling of his own release. Then the sweet burst into a ricochet of pleasure and heat.

Kiku smiled, breathless as she relished in the warmth filling her. As Yoongi kept moving, he snuck his head in between her legs, targeting her sensitive spot and pushing her to the edge. Kiku's brows furrowed, aching to reach her own climax as she was full of him. Her breathing turned to quickened whimpers as she squirmed under his touch. Her back arched, head thrown back giving Yoongi the chance to kiss her neck and jawline.

Her climax bloomed, the heat of it shaking her limbs and forcing her legs to shut around him. Yoongi kissed her forehead, still rubbing on that spot until she twitched against it.

Kiku whimpered, pushing his hand away. A small laugh left his lips fuelling her with more delight. It was the most wonderful feeling she had to be embraced like this so warmly and the bliss of pleasure melting her body until she was meshed with the bed itself.

"You feel sleepier now?" Yoongi watched her with his own half-lidded, blissed eyes.

Kiku smiled as her breathing turned slow and calm. "Mhm." She traced her fingers down his cheek. "I think I've officially become your wife."

"Oh?" Yoongi's brow raised. "You weren't before?"

Kiku chuckled, slapping his chest playfully. "I mean we don't have anything to hide anymore."

Yoongi caged her in with his arms, making her feel safe and secure. "No, we don't."

Kiku blinked slowly, her finger moved gently to his scar. "Like this?"

Yoongi's expression softened into a mix of ruminating vulnerability and an old sadness that had been repeatedly reminisced. He lay down next to her, shoulders pressed flush. "My father and I go on small trips every now and then. He used to do it with every child, just to. . .talk, connect with nature and spend time." He waved his hand. "It was strange for Chiefs to do it but he said it was because he never got to speak to his own father. So, he wanted to make sure we weren't. . .without one." He let out a long breath.

"He sounds like a good father," Kiku said.

"He was." Yoongi's dark eyes melted and glossed from emotion. "One day though, bandits were prowling in the place my father and I camped. They attacked us. I got this from one of the bandits." He pointed to the scar. "Before my father told me to run while he fended them off. I called my mother and some guards to help but we were too late."

Kiku shifted and rubbed his chest. "Is that why you train so much?"

Yoongi nodded. "I want to make sure Yeong and the girls know how to defend themselves or others should the need arise." He took a deep breath, playing with Kiku's hair. "But I had a good family. We took care of each other, just like we'll take care of you."

Kiku smiled, resting her chin on his chest. "I'll take care of you all too. I still owe you a massage."

"You gave me a pretty good one a minute ago." Yoongi smirked.

Kiku chuckled. "A proper massage."

-

Kiku and Yoongi returned to the main houses early in the morning as the soft gold of dawn painted the forest. Hwayoung had lunch prepared with the rest of the family to welcome them home. Fresh steamed fish with tofu, rice porridge and some fresh fruits newly picked from the farms. Kiku ate happily, her appetite had grown in the months she was with this family but it made her all the more energetic and vibrant along with her excitement from the past night's events.

Something the family noticed more than Kiku realised.

Yun, in particular, stared the two of them a little too closely with a smirk. "So how was the trip, brother?" She asked in a sing-song voice.

Yoongi's eyes flickered up as he paused mid-bite. "As most political talks go with a spoiled brat of a Chief. He gave into the deal quickly," he spoke in a slightly formal tone.

Kiku quietly sipped on the last drops of her tea before he gently poured her another cup. She gave him a shy smile.

"I haven't heard much about the prospects of the Chiefs of the Moon clan but the younger son is usually unprepared," Hwayoung said thankfully to distract from what Yun actually wanted to ask.

Yeong stammered just as he took a bite of his food, looking at Hwayoung with a pout. "What'd I do?"

Hwayoung raised her hand. "I mean, generally. Not you."

Yoongi let out a small chuckle under his breath. "She means you."

Yeong sighed, pointing at him with his chopsticks. "I've beaten you in sword training before, I'll do it again."

"Did you do anything else in the trip?" Yun asked, with a wide grin, leaning forward in excitement. "You were both alone for the night. And Kiku's been. . .glowing."

Kiku's cheeks burned, clearing her throat. "I—I don't—"

"You need to stop obsessing over your brother's marriage, sweetheart, it's getting strange." Hwayoung patted the back of Yun's hand.

"It's only because you don't let me get married." Yun leaned back on her chair, folding her arms over her chest.

"Mother's protecting the men of the clan," Nari said, raising a brow.

Yun slapped Nari's arm as Yeong snorted.

"See how they bully me?" Yun asked Kiku.

Kiku chuckled, biting down her bottom lip and glancing at Yoongi. Often when she had terrible encounters with Haruki, she would get scolded by her family and live with the suffocating feeling of frustration in her chest.

Today was the first time, Kiku could cling to the happy moments and forget about Haruki or any of this harsh words. Her family threw her to the Onyx clan like a bait at the end of a fishing line but in their hatred for her, Kiku found love for her own. 

masterlist

Fledgling

Jungkook is tired of his dreary existence. So when a mysterious stranger offers him a way out of life as he knows it, he takes it without hesitation.

🩸 Human (to Vampire) Jungkook x Vampire Namjoon

🩸 word count: 12.3k

🩸 dead dove, strangers to lovers, vampire au, horror, blood & gore, major character death (kind of; to become a vampire), smut, light angst, possessive fluff, 21+

🩸 warnings: dead dove 🕊 do not eat! top Namjoon bottom Jungkook; a vampiric game of cat and mouse; this is a bloody fucking mess; Jungkook has a death wish and makes unwise choices; talk of sex work and using men for a place to sleep; Calvin Klein babygirl Jungkook; lavender Namjoon; talk of robbing men jk sleeps with; talk of a car crash and the sight of the aftermath of a crash; use of the word whore; vampire compulsion/charming; lots of pet names and terms of threatening endearment; possessiveness; classist language jk says toward himself (which does not reflect my real opinions at all); fear kink; nj drinking JK’s blood; jk literally bleeds to death (hi hello this is a vampire fic lol); smut (temperature play kind of; does this count as blood play???; blow job; anal fingering; anal sex; dying while being fucked and having a lovely time; semi-public sex beside corpses); a lot of blood drinking; having a captive person whose blood is drained; jk loses his autonomy completely.

🩸 note: in this fic, we observe a world where Jungkook has heard of zombies but not vampires, okay. suspend your disbelief just once, my loves!!! this one is quite dark but not terribly graphic, all things considered. there is plenty of blood & gore tho!!! i did not get a chance to proofread as much as i usually do, so if you notice any errors, feel free to let me know!

🩸 happy halloween to my lovely @sweetestofchaos! 🧛🏻 👻 🎃 🍂 i hope you enjoy this!!! i only meant for this to be a short, sweet oneshot and it completely took on a life of its own.

🩸 written for the bts fantasy & fangs trick or treat event! check out more hauntingly good works!

🩸 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🩸 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The moment the older man walks into the bar, Jeongguk takes in a deep, fortifying breath and instinctively holds it. Something about the way this man carries himself – tall, broad, and strong, with an aura of danger surrounding him – makes Jeongguk weak in the knees, and he grips onto the poles of the tiny caged-in stage and swishes his hip as he gets low into a squatting position. 

Being a go-go dancer at a bar this seedy tends to attract the attention of the wrong type of men – men with families waiting for them; men with enough power and influence to make them greedy and mean; men who know damn well that a pretty little thing like Jeongguk disappearing from a shithole like this would not raise many alarms. 

Jeongguk gets a thrill from being spoiled by rich married men; he dares one of them to swoop in and make him disappear – even if it means death. Anything would be better than this life, he thinks. 

Unfortunately for him, the wealthy men who gravitate toward him are all talk – anything for an easy fuck. They promise Jeongguk the world, telling him how badly they want to get him out of his current rundown apartment and wax poetic about a better life – modeling contracts or sugar baby arrangements. 

Oh, how they moan and groan and lament over how stunning Jeongguk is – talented, and thoughtful, and pretty. And then they fuck him and leave him, never calling back, moving along to the next sad little poor thing to utter empty platitudes to while balls deep inside them. 

Jeongguk can already tell that this man is different. This man is dangerous beyond just money and an appetite for young meat. This man could make Jeongguk disappear in the blink of an eye. 

The man who approaches the bar is gorgeous, dressed head to toe in black – a fitted jacket over a button-up, tucked into fitted slacks. His slightly grown-out hair is lightened to a soft lavender-blond and pushed off his forehead, his eyes are razor-sharp, and his pillow-plush lips are pulled into a smirk. As he walks, men straighten out and step to the side, quick to get out of his way.

Jeongguk watches as the man approaches the bar and leans with one elbow against the wood, ordering a drink and letting his gaze drift around the smoke-filled space. And when the man's eyes land on Jeongguk, he feels his pulse quicken. 

Something dark and indiscernible flashes in the man's gaze and Jeongguk feels a pull, leaning forward, bare chest touching the cold metal bars that his hands loosely hold onto. His blood shimmers and soars through his veins, and he swoons to the cold touch of steel. 

All sound around him – music and voices – seem to slow and morph, as if he is sinking deep underwater. The man's smirk grows to a salacious grin, and then he turns his gaze away from Jeongguk, who crashes back to reality as he heavy-blinks his surroundings into place.

Slowly, Jeongguk swishes his hips up to a standing position, finding he has to grip a little harder onto the poles, which are slick from sweat that has pooled beneath his palms. The man does not look back at Jeongguk, talking instead to another patron with his back facing this way, leaving him feeling empty and disappointed. 

In an attempt to save face, Jeongguk dances for two more songs, eyes never straying from the back of the man, and then picks his black denim jacket up off the floor and exits the cage, hours too soon. 

"Need a bathroom break," he mutters to his manager Sunmi, who stands with her arms folded over her chest, scowling at him. 

"Make it quick," she snaps, to which he simply grunts, in return.

Jeongguk has half a mind to walk out the back door and go home. He cannot explain why, but he experiences such a pull to the lavender-haired man that having him turn away and not regard him leaves him feeling so disappointed and frustrated that he would rather call it a night than continue to work.

Of the dancers, Jeongguk is easily the most attractive, and he garners the most attention, meaning the managers are on his ass the most, and would definitely berate him for leaving. Luckily, he has no working cell phone at the moment, which could make leaving a lot less annoying.

The bathroom is a dimly lit shithole with yellowed walls and chipped tiles that may have once been white, years and years ago. It reeks of piss and urinal detergent blocks, and every surface is inexplicably wet. Jeongguk scrunches his nose uncomfortably, never able to get used to the stench, as he approaches the sink and stands before it, not quite sure what to do with himself. 

Staring at his reflection, Jeongguk begins to give himself a silent pep talk. The way he looks now – bangs hanging in his eyes, which are smudged black like coal – he is far too fucking hot to let some asshole ruin his night. 

Tonight, his hair is down – falling nearly to his shoulders in pretty dark brown waves. He wears a thin black tie under his black denim jacket, and black loose-fitting denim pants – no shirt. Dressed like this, men never turn their attention away from him once he has it, so what was that guy's fucking problem?

Jeongguk runs the sink and splashes some cold water on his face, letting it drip down his chest. He uses a paper towel to blot at his forehead and cheeks but allows the droplets on his pecs and abs to linger and glisten. 

Maybe, he thinks, maybe he can score the hot lavender-haired man. At the very least, he anticipates someone will take him home tonight. Someone always does. 

As he exits the bathroom, the first thing Jeongguk notices is that the man is no longer at the bar. Briefly, he scans the space, looking for him, then he clears his throat, lifts his head high, and walks back to the cage. The moment he steps in, some older man in a suit walks up and grips onto the bars in front of him, like clockwork. 

"Hey, pretty thing," the man snarls, reeking of cigars and gin. What he lacks in looks, he makes up for in confidence, and hopefully money. 

"Hey there, handsome," Jeongguk responds sweetly, squatting low enough to be just under eye-level with the man, which only seems to excite him more. 

"What time you off work?"

It's always the same with these men, and Jeongguk heavy-blinks once, schooling his plastered smile so as to not grimace. 

"I finish when the bar shuts down."

The man is antsy, shifting left to right, gripping onto the bars. Jeongguk can tell that he is considering all the ways in which his money has allowed him to skirt past rules and authority; he can tell the man is going to try to insist that Jeongguk, too, is above his own responsibilities if the man can flash enough notes. 

"What do you say we get out of here now, instead?" the man tries, causing Jeongguk's right eye to twitch. "I'm sure your boss can be bought, eh? There's two more dancers here; what's the harm in letting one go?"

With a sweet smile and a shrug, Jeongguk looks over his shoulder demurely. "Boss is back there. The woman standing by the wall – the one who's frowning. If you can convince her to let me go, I'm all yours, big boy."

Fat chance in hell Sunmi noona would allow Jeongguk to leave even a minute before close, but he likes letting these men try their best shot. If anything, being told no only makes them more desperate to have him and they wind up spending a pretty penny on getting him drunk enough to fuck them later. 

The man hobbles away, and a curious tingle travels up Jeongguk's neck, filling him with the sudden urge to glance around, certain that someone must be watching him. But as he makes a little spin in his cage, eyes tracing over every patron at the bar, peering over every shadow, he doesn't notice anyone paying him special attention. In fact, the only person he makes eye contact with is Sunmi noona, who is glaring at him while the man before her attempts to barter for his freedom. 

Things go just as Jeongguk anticipates, to such an exact formula that he would find it amusing if it were not so fucking tedious. The man is ultimately turned down, then he proceeds to sulk at the bar, only ever leaving his post to bring Jeongguk a new drink or go take a piss. This goes on for an hour and a half, and then the man announces that he is going to use the restroom once more, and for Jeongguk to stay put and don't go too far.

Jeongguk leaves the cage and approaches the bar, feeling tipsy and tired as he leans against the far end and waits for the man to return from the restroom. He oscillates between feeling impatient and wishing the man would not return, saving him from having to suck his drunk, flaccid cock in a desperate attempt to get him hard. He just knows this man is going to have to contend with all the alcohol he has been drinking, and that Jeongguk will be the one paying the price. 

Although the man is not Jeongguk's type at all – nothing like the Adonis of a man who walked in hours earlier – Jeongguk supposes he is just happy to have somewhere warm to stay for the night. Never mind how undoubtedly bad the sex is going to be. If he is lucky, Jeongguk may even find an opportunity to rob him. Nothing too wild, just a few notes from the man's wallet and some cufflinks or a watch that he likely wouldn't even miss. 

Once more, a tingle works its way from Jeongguk's spine to the nape of his neck, and he shivers, glancing over his right shoulder and then his left, puzzled by the strange sensation. 

"Ready to go?" the man asks from Jeongguk's right, taking him by surprise and making him flinch. 

Jeongguk sighs out an embarrassed exhale and scoffs to himself. "Sure. Let's go."

"I have a room nearby," the man says. "Five star."

Of course, he has a room nearby, Jeongguk thinks. Men like him always have wives; they never take Jeongguk home with them.

Jeongguk still only wears a black denim jacket, a black tie, and no shirt underneath, and the moment he gets outside, he shivers, tensing his shoulders up to his ears and exhaling visible puffs of air in the cool autumn breeze. Being that it is bar time, the sidewalks are crowded with drunk people stumbling to and fro, and Jeongguk digs his hands deep into his jacket pockets as his shoulders and elbows are slammed into. 

The man leads Jeongguk to the end of the block and to the left, around the corner, where the street is somewhat quieter. Just up ahead, a black sports car beeps, flashing its lights. With a crooked smile, the man gestures, keys in hand, to the car and says, "This is me."

Jeongguk halts, kicking the cement with the toe of his boot in an attempt to assess the situation. Ordinarily, men who bring him back to hotels do so in a taxi or with a personal driver.

"Yeah, I'm not getting into that car with you," Jeongguk says slowly, taking a tentative step back. "You've had a lot to drink."

Despite having a bit of a death wish, being smashed in a head-on collision is not his ideal way to go. 

The man laughs, or maybe he hiccups – it's hard to say. "Come on, don't be a prude," he slurs. "Get in the car."

With a sigh, Jeongguk takes another step back, pulling his hands from his pockets. He hates it when drunk men get pushy, and he begins to crack his knuckles with his thumbs – a nervous tic. 

"Sorry, man," Jeongguk insists, continuing to slowly back away. "I'm not getting into your car."

The man looks incensed, and he turns around in a quick swaying stumble, barreling five or so steps to reach Jeongguk, who holds his hands out in front of him, palms up, as if in surrender. 

"Hey, man," Jeongguk begins, "Look, I'm not trying t—"

The man lunges, grabbing one of Jeongguk's wrists, yanking hard enough to make Jeongguk stumble. "I'm not trying to fucking argue. You and I both know I can pay you more money to keep me company than you're worth at that shithole. So why don't you be a good little whore and get in the fucking car!"

Jeongguk attempts to rip his arm away, but the man is surprisingly strong, and he yanks him enough to make Jeongguk stumble once more, causing anger and fear to spike in him. And then the tingle works its way through Jeongguk once more, much stronger than before, and he sways forward and back, blinking heavily as if trapped in a mental fog. 

Slow footsteps click-clack against concrete behind Jeongguk, and without looking he knows the handsome man from the bar is standing behind him – he has no idea how or why, but he can sense him.

"Gentlemen," the man says, voice deep and rich, raising Jeongguk's goosebumps even higher. "I trust that this is not a physical altercation that I am walking in on."

The drunk man stands tall, yanking on Jeongguk's wrist again. Feeling intoxicated by the man's presence behind him has Jeongguk's arm relaxed, and he stumbles into the drunk man, causing him to huff angrily and continue to yank Jeongguk toward the car.

"He told you he isn't interested in going with you," the man behind him says, and Jeongguk gasps, curious how much of the conversation he could have overheard. 

The drunk man squeezes Jeongguk's wrist before throwing it down and pointing at the man, shouting, "And just who the fuck do you think you are?"

In a blink, the new man is standing right beside Jeongguk, cloying his senses with a rich, heady scent of wildflowers and musk. The drunk man gasps and stumbles a step backward, mouth moving frantically as he quakes with fear, and the man by Jeongguk's side slowly lifts his hand, gripping the drunk man's throat. 

"I," the man says slowly, "am your worst…fucking…nightmare."

Silence hangs and then the drunk man begins to laugh, snot and drool flying from his lips. He grips onto the hand around his throat and shoves it down, then he shakes his head, face turning a gruesome shade of red under the golden streetlights. 

"You almost had me," the drunk man says, slapping his hand against his thigh. "That was a good one."

Jeongguk finally turns his head to face the lavender-haired man. The man only stands slightly taller than him, but his presence feels enormous. The man smiles, which creates a pretty little dimple in his cheek, and he dryly chuckles along. 

"That was pretty funny, wasn't it?" the man beside Jeongguk asks. 

The drunk man nods and continues to laugh, looking between Jeongguk and the lavender-haired man. 

"Get in your car," the man beside Jeongguk commands firmly. 

Suddenly, the man stops laughing, and his eyes lose their shine. As if being piloted by some invisible force, he turns and begins walking toward his car. 

"Wait," Jeongguk mutters, looking between the men as the drunk man rounds the hood of his car and opens the driver's side door. "What is he—"

"Drive out to the countryside at top speed and crash into the first semi truck you see," the man beside Jeongguk commands, and Jeongguk watches with confused horror as the drunk man utters something to himself and closes his door. 

Instinctively, Jeongguk jolts forward, eager to stop the drunk man from driving in the state he is in. But the man beside him very quietly, almost seductively says, "Oh, baby, you aren't going anywhere," and Jeongguk's entire body freezes. 

It is almost as if Jeongguk's skin, down to the marrow in his bones, shimmers and heats up, heavy and dreamy as if every nerve – every blood vessel – is listening to the man beside him and wants to do exactly as he says.

"What are you doing, leaving with a man like him, anyway, hmm?" the man asks. 

Jeongguk, finding he is incapable of speaking anything but the absolute truth mutters, "I need the money, and you weren't there."

"You were hoping for me?" The man asks, lifting a dark eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"You're handsome…and you appear dangerous. I wanted to know what it was like to get lost in a man like you."

"Awe," the man groans as he leans close, right beside Jeongguk's ear, voice deep and dangerous, "little ol' me?"

"Yes," Jeongguk mutters, feeling any miniscule sense of control quickly leaving him as the man says, "Then come with me." 

The man turns and begins to walk the way he came, and Jeongguk feels his limbs twist and buckle as if led by invisible strings. He stumbles as he attempts to keep up, unable to move his lips to speak or to pull his gaze away from the back of the man. 

Lavender hair, broad shoulders, and an expensive suit – nothing else in the world exists. That is, until the man turns onto the still crowded street, and Jeongguk follows along so obediently that he causes pedestrians to trip over him. 

Drunk people stumble and swear, telling him to watch his step, muttering under their breath about what a fucking degenerate he is. Jeongguk pays no mind – hardly hears them. All he can focus on is the strong man with the floral and musk scent, leading him along. 

For the second time tonight, Jeongguk and a strange man approach an expensive car. Only this time, when the man motions for Jeongguk to get into the passenger seat, he doesn't think twice – couldn't think twice if he wanted to. 

A voice in the back of his head wonders where they are going, what the man could want from him, how he is leading Jeongguk to act against his will. But he cannot form these thoughts into words; he cannot speak. 

The car this man drives is nice – nicer than the generic sports car the other man drove. Far too nice to be flashing it around in a neighborhood like this. If the wrong person catches someone driving around this side of town in something this expensive, it is likely the owner will end up floating face down in the river by dawn. 

Not that a man like this one has any reason to fear others. 

"Close the door" the man commands as soon as Jeongguk slides into the passenger seat, and he does as he is told. Jeongguk can sense the man turning toward him as he asks, "Wanna see where our friend ended up?"

"Yes," Jeongguk mutters against any better judgment he could have. Ordinarily, he would never admit it, but he is curious. 

The man chuckles, presses the ignition button, and speeds off down the road. Jeongguk sits stiff as a board, eyes wide and staring at the cars and buildings passing at speeds that he is terrified to comprehend in the middle of the city. And without a seatbelt, because the mysterious stranger never instructed him to put one on. 

"What is your name, pretty?" the man asks, voice magnanimous but still containing an edge to it.

"Jeongguk," he mutters in response. "Jeon Jeongguk."

"Jeongguk," the man repeats nice and slow. His name sounds like honey dripping from the man's tongue, and Jeongguk wishes he could turn and properly see him. "My name is Namjoon. But you can call me sir."

"Yes, sir," Jeongguk responds without thinking. 

Namjoon chuckles deeply, leaving the slums for the wealthy outskirts before veering off into the countryside. At the speed which Namjoon is driving, the outside may as well be a black abyss, shrouded in shadow. Headlights and taillights streak by as Namjoon weaves through lanes. And then, up ahead, Jeongguk sees it. 

The bright glow of a large headlight shines up ahead, and as they approach, Jeongguk realizes the other headlight is obstructed by what hardly looks like a black car. The front of it is smashed almost like an accordion, surrounded in exploded glass. 

“It’s safe to say he won’t be bothering you anymore,” Namjoon announces with a smile in his voice. 

“Why did you do this?” Jeongguk mutters, unable to tear his eyes away from the crash. 

“Look at me,” Namjoon commands, and Jeongguk’s head snaps to the left before he is able to think. 

Namjoon is devilishly handsome – eyes sharp, dark almonds and heavy-lidded, with pillow lips pulled into a smirk. "I didn't like the way he touched you," he explains, lifting a hand to delicately caress Jeongguk's cheek. The touch is ice cold and electric, making Jeongguk suck in air quickly through his teeth. 

Sirens and lights blare from in front of them and behind, and Namjoon lifts his eyebrow, then says, "Well, this is our cue to go!" while flashing a smile so bright, it gives Jeongguk chills.

Namjoon reverses and then whips around, tires screeching as the car does a 180 and speeds off back toward town. Jeongguk continues to watch Namjoon, eyes stuck on his side profile, in part because he is so beautiful, but also because he has not been given instruction to look elsewhere. 

How Namjoon is able to weave through cop cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance without anyone turning their attention to him is beyond Jeongguk, but he is unable to think too deeply about it, mind too full of fog. Jeongguk expected Namjoon to continue driving deeper into the countryside and take him somewhere terrifyingly secluded, and he is surprised when the city lights return. 

"What is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like that, anyway?" Namjoon asks, breaking a tense silence. 

Jeongguk continues to stare at the side of Namjoon's face, feeling his pulse quicken when the man turns his gaze to him briefly with a hint of a smile. 

"Places like that are where all pretty things like me end up," Jeongguk mutters somewhat methodically. He has more thoughts on the matter, but he finds that all his brain and mouth will offer are exact responses. 

"And why is that?" Namjoon asks as he pulls to a red light and turns his full attention to Jeongguk.

Tears build in the edges of Jeongguk's eyes. He cannot tell whether it is because he has not blinked since he was told to look at Namjoon, or if the man has struck a nerve. He thinks perhaps it is somewhere in the middle. 

"I'm a dropout with no direction," Jeongguk responds quietly, voice cracking around his words. "No rich parents…I don't have anything to offer but my body."

Ordinarily, when Jeongguk bothers to open up to men, they put on a pitying act. They promise Jeongguk this and that while assuring him that he does have purpose – he does have something to offer to the world. Namjoon, on the other hand, perks up. He practically snarls. And when the light turns green, he continues watching Jeongguk for a few more tense seconds. 

"Ah, yes," the man finally says as he returns his gaze to the street and continues driving. "Another pretty face who could disappear and nobody would miss them."

Although Jeongguk feels like Namjoon is mocking him, there is no mockery in his tone. He is so perfectly matter of fact, that Jeongguk is unable to feel angry if he wanted to, because he is a classic case of a nobody, as far as anyone is concerned; Namjoon could murder him tonight and the only person who would notice him missing would be his boss, and even she wouldn't go looking for him. 

"Do you like that job?" Namjoon asks as they begin to wind through darker streets that Jeongguk assumes is a more residential area. 

Jeongguk quietly mutters, "No."

"Are there aspects about it you like at all?"

"I like dancing," Jeongguk responds as tears break and streak down his cheeks. His eyes feel dry and heavy, and he forces himself to partially blink, finding that his eyes will not close entirely. "And I like the attention. Getting spoiled by rich men is fun, but I wish most of them weren't so gross."

Namjoon laughs, turning his attention briefly to Jeongguk. His eyes appear to be dark black pools of nothing, and Jeongguk does not have a mind to question it. 

"Do you think I'm gross?" he asks in a playful tone.

"No," Jeongguk responds instantly. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"And if I want to spoil you?" Namjoon continues as he seems to pull to the side of the road but keeps his ignition on. He turns to fully face Jeongguk, cocking his head to the side.

"Please," Jeongguk all but whispers, then he clears his throat. "It will hurt like hell when you abandon me, but I'm used to it."

If Jeongguk were not spellbound, he would surely feel embarrassed over his admission. Being this honest with strange men is not his wheelhouse; he has never fully admitted to his feelings with anyone in the past. 

"And if I choose not to abandon you?" Namjoon asks as he scrapes his pearly teeth over his plush bottom lip. Jeongguk's eyes follow the movement; he desperately wants to know how that lip feels between his own teeth. 

"Don't tease me," Jeongguk responds, voice slow and distracted as he continues to stare at Namjoon's mouth. 

Namjoon smiles wide and Jeongguk could swear his incisors were sharper than before. As he runs his tongue along the bottom edge of one pointed tooth, Jeongguk's heart gallops behind his ribs. 

"Not a tease," Namjoon says with a snarl, sharp smile remaining on display. "But it would come with a price."

Jeongguk swallows thickly, gaze stuck on Namjoon's devilishly inviting mouth. "And wh-what is the price?"

Rather than respond, Namjoon shuts off the ignition. "Follow me," he commands as he gets out of the car, and for a split moment, Jeongguk's body pulls toward the driver's seat before correcting and opening the passenger side door. 

Namjoon rounds the hood of the car and approaches a large, angular house set back in tall, spiky trees that appear massive in the pitch dark. Although there are other houses around, there is a feeling of seclusion as Jeongguk follows Namjoon down a short path and up a set of cement steps that lead to the side of the home rather than the front of it. 

"Are you scared?" Namjoon asks over his shoulder.

Shadow closes in the further they walk. Jeongguk wants to say no, and he is disappointed when his mouth utters, "A little."

Namjoon punches a long passcode into a keypad, then pulls the massive wooden door open, holding out his hand as if to invite Jeongguk to enter. Only Jeongguk cannot enter, because his instruction was to follow. 

"If I break the spell will you run?" Namjoon asks with a playful lift of an eyebrow.

"No," Jeongguk answers plainly. Where would he even go?

With a snap of Namjoon's fingers, Jeongguk's shoulders quickly droop and his body adjusts to the natural force of gravity that holds him. He takes in a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill painfully as his dry eyes blink away the last of the tears that had formed. Jeongguk is able to weigh whether or not he wants to enter this man's home, and even though he is certain that Namjoon is not entirely human, he finds he does not care. 

So, with another deep breath, Jeongguk steps forward, into the dark space. He can hardly see what is in front of him, but he takes a few more steps and begins to toe out of his loosely laced boots, shaking his ankles until they hit the floor with a hollow thunk, one after the other, then bending to remove his socks, as well, worried they might stink. 

Namjoon's home seems to come alive as the man walks deeper through the foyer and into a large living room. Sconces light on their own – faint golden glows that illuminate just enough but keep the space somewhat dark. The walls have deep red wallpaper with dark wood wainscoting, and there are large portraits hung throughout the space, all of which look like Namjoon painted during various artistic periods throughout history. 

"This is…" Jeongguk mutters, eyes trailing from a faded image of Namjoon painted somewhat crudely over yellowed parchment to a clearer painting of Namjoon dressed as a nobleman in a style that would be centuries more recent than the last, but centuries older than the one they live in, now.

"Impressive?" Namjoon asks.

Jeongguk shakes his head, stopping in his tracks to look at his host fully. "Weird. This is fucking weird."

Namjoon smiles widely, standing tall before Jeongguk – as beautiful as he is terrifying. Jeongguk wants to lean close and run his hands over the man's chest and push away the lapels of his expensive jacket.

"I suppose it is quite weird," Namjoon responds, gaze becoming somewhat sad. "Seeing all and surpassing everyone I have ever come to know…hiding away as a monster…all of it is, indeed, quite weird."

Although Jeongguk is certain that he has full control of himself, the tingle persists, settling at the base of his spine and spreading a curious, eager warmth throughout. "Make me into a monster like you," he utters without really considering what he asks for. 

Namjoon squints, gaze curious, almost mocking. “Do you know for what you ask, little one?”

And, sure, Jeongguk could wager a guess, but all he responds with in the moment is a petulant utterance of, “I’m basically the same height and build as you.”

With a hum, Namjoon takes a step forward, causing Jeongguk's entire body to react. He feels like cornered prey as his hips twist and he backs into the wall, heel hitting polished wood as a brass sconce scrapes the side of his head. Namjoon truly is only a bit taller but he looms over a cowering Jeongguk as he stands his full height, elongating his spine to look down at him. 

"Yes, you are a sizable match in many ways," Namjoon says softly, raising a hand to gently detangle Jeongguk's hair from the elaborate sconce. "But I have lived lifetimes before finding you. Dynasties have risen, fallen, and faded into obscurity, and I have seen all. I could snuff your life out in the blink of an eye, like a tiny little rodent."

The absurdity in Namjoon's statement makes Jeongguk want to laugh, only he finds all he can do is snicker before something in Namjoon's presence makes his mouth rest. He has already experienced the man's magic…could he be telling the truth?

"Do it," Jeongguk urges, eager to reach out and touch Namjoon but incapable of lifting his arms. 

"You don't know what you're asking for," Namjoon responds lowly, eyes appearing sad despite the edges of his lips rising. 

"Aren't you lonely?" Jeongguk urges. He has no idea whether he and Namjoon would even get along, or whether they could be sexually compatible, but he is desperate for a life outside the one he has known for so long. 

Namjoon smirks and drags his ice cold hands along the curve of Jeongguk's neck, making him shiver. His jacket hangs open, and Namjoon gently pushes the material back, running the backs of his hands down Jeongguk's chest, ribs, abdominals. 

"You're so cold," Jeongguk mutters under his breath, watching as Namjoon's gaze follows his own hands. "Cold as death."

"That is correct, little one," Namjoon says, eyes flicking to his. "My own blood has not flowed through my veins for centuries."

Although Jeongguk struggles to wrap his mind around everything Namjoon says, it feels real…sort of. "Are you a zombie?" he mutters half to himself, not fully intending to say the words aloud. 

Namjoon's eyes crinkle, his cheeks dimple, and he laughs. He laughs loud and boisterous, sounds echoing throughout dark space, and Jeongguk is certain that he has never seen or heard something more beautiful in his life. With a shake of his head, Namjoon continues to laugh, and Jeongguk stands and waits while the smallest smile creeps over his own lips.

"Not a zombie," Namjoon replies, still shaking his head. "But I am technically undead."

In a flash, Namjoon's expression darkens. His eyes go almost pitch black, and his incisors sharpen before Jeongguk's eyes, confirming that what he saw earlier was not a mistake. The familiar tingle works its way up Jeongguk's spine, only this time, it triggers his fight or flight response. All he can do is freeze.

"Namjoon," Jeongguk mutters as he presses further into the wall, hands shakily grazing over the ridges of wooden panels.

"You seem so eager to know what kind of monster I am," Namjoon responds, leaning close and wafting cold breath that reeks of decaying flowers over Jeongguk's face. "Shall I show you?"

"I—" Jeongguk croaks, voice becoming lost in his throat. 

The tips of Namjoon's frigid fingers begin to dig into the skin of Jeongguk's tummy, just above his waistline, by his left hip. He doesn't remember Namjoon having long or sharp nails, but he swears he can feel his skin begin to puncture – he finds he is too afraid to look. 

"You…what?" Namjoon prompts, dark eyes pooling with black abyss. "Too frightened to speak?"

Jeongguk's lips tremble, creaking broken sounds that find no resolve. He is absolutely horrified, and more curious than he has ever felt about anything before. 

Namjoon lifts a hand, proving that what Jeongguk felt was real – the index and middle fingers have sharp claw-like nails that drip with blood. Jeongguk can feel wet warmth on his left hip, but he does not look; he can only stare as Namjoon lifts his hand to his lips and sucks the blood from his fingers. 

The sounds Namjoon makes are borderline pornographic – hums and groans of pleasure. Jeongguk watches intently as Namjoon pulls his fingers from between his inviting lip – as Namjoon's pink tongue pokes out and laps up a drop of blood that has run between his fingers. 

He knows he should glance down and assess what Namjoon has done to him, and he practically begs his brain to allow his gaze to move. He almost feels caught in the same trance as earlier, only Namjoon has not commanded anything; how is he trapped in place, unable to look away?

"God, I love that look of fear, confusion, intrigue," Namjoon purrs, voice somehow deeper than Jeongguk remembers. "We should really tend to that wound. Wouldn't want it to kill you."

"Would it?" Jeongguk murmurs, feeling somewhat dissociated from his skin. He does not feel pain, but he can feel the trickle of blood. 

Namjoon begins to sink down to his knees, gaze never leaving Jeongguk's. Only when Namjoon settles and sits high, leaning toward where his nails dug deep enough to puncture skin, does Jeongguk see the wound. It does not bleed too badly, but it is leaving a wet black spot on his black pants. 

Without a word, Namjoon opens Jeongguk's black denim jacket and pins the fabric to the wall with both palms. Then he leans in and licks a slow, firm path from the waistline of Jeongguk's jeans and over the wound. 

Namjoon groans, eyelids fluttering as he licks and sucks. All Jeongguk can do is stare, watching Namjoon's tongue streak deep red before disappearing. Jeongguk cannot deny that it feels good. In fact, the visual of Namjoon on his knees before him, lapping at his skin with such hunger while his dark eyes stay on Jeongguk's face has arousal coursing through his veins just as quickly as oxygen does. 

Jeongguk's cock begins to harden, and he decides it is best not to allow the myriad questions and concerns muddy the spell that Namjoon must have him under. One particularly firm flick of Namjoon's tongue makes Jeongguk shiver, and before he knows it, the pleasure he feels is enough to make him sigh out a hint of a moan. This catches Namjoon's attention and makes him grin, lips stained with blood and yet so inviting. 

"Please," Jeongguk whispers, fingertips tingling to reach forward but planted to the wall. 

"Please…what, little one?"

Without a clue as to what he is asking for, Jeongguk simply watches as Namjoon's hands lift from the wall and begin to rub over Jeongguk's skin, along the hem of his pants, to the fly, where he works the button open. Blood and saliva cover Namjoon's chin, and his ice cold fingers send another shiver down his spine.

Namjoon's eyes fall to Jeongguk's jeans – undoubtedly to the bulge that lifts the fabric – then he glances back up, grin widening with his sharp white teeth on display. He scrapes his tongue along his teeth before asking, "That turned you on?"

Jeongguk could swear Namjoon's pupils were brighter than before. No longer are they deep black pools, shining a rich umber that appear outlined in red – a trick of the light, Jeongguk surmises – and making him more alluring than ever.

All Jeongguk can do is nod, mouth too heavy and dry to make coherent sound. That did turn him on, and he is terrified of what it could mean for him. 

In a blink, Namjoon is standing before him. Jeongguk startles, bumping his head into the sconce and wincing from the pain. Namjoon's chin is still smeared pinkish-red, and his breath smells like decaying flowers and iron. 

"Do I scare you, little one?"

Jeongguk's exhale trembles from his lips, and his voice is barely audible as he says, "You know you scare me."

"Do you like it?"

Jeongguk doesn't give himself a chance to mull it over. "Sort of."

"I can scare you more if you would prefer."

Although he is certain that he should not be asking leading questions to someone who has proven himself to be a literal monster, Jeongguk swallows thickly then asks, "Why would you want to do that?"

Namjoon licks his lips and hums, putting on a show of thinking over his response. Then he leans in close to Jeongguk's ear, groaning through his words. "There is something about the way your blood courses through your veins when you are afraid that makes it taste…so…sweet."

Jeongguk's fight or flight impulse returns, and he tenses. Suddenly he wants to run far, far away from Namjoon. Worse, he thinks that he would like Namjoon to give chase. 

"God, I can smell the fear on you, little one," Namjoon whines, rubbing his nose over Jeongguk's throat. "I'll give you a ten second head start if you want to run."

"Shit," Jeongguk mutters, suddenly unglued from the wall, limbs relaxing only to tense back up again. He was definitely just under Namjoon's spell, and he had no clear confirmation of it while it happened.

"Ten…" Namjoon says with a grin, taking a large step backward. 

Jeongguk looks around the darkened space, unsure where he could even go.

Then Namjoon lifts a brow and cocks his head to the side as if silently asking Jeongguk what he is waiting for as he says, "Nine…"

Jeongguk runs to the right, deeper into the large house, blinking in the darkness while he attempts to get his bearings. There is no way he could hope to fight Namjoon off, so he does not attempt to go to the kitchen to search for anything sharp or heavy to use as a weapon. Not that he wants to fight Namjoon off, but a voice in the back of his head is telling him that he should.

Namjoon's voice echoes from behind him, calling, "Eight!"

Stairs come into view and Jeongguk storms upward, taking two at a time in the darkness, tripping over himself at the top landing and stumbling before pummeling shoulder first into a wall. 

"Seven!"

There is a faint golden glow that comes from the far end of a long hall and Jeongguk runs toward it, bare feet sliding along hardwood and stomping onto carpeting. He can vaguely make out more portraits and photographs lining the walls, as well as closed and open doors.

"Six!"

Jeongguk slams his open palms into the door, which is cracked a few inches, and he stumbles into a bedroom. He is surprised by the furnishings, eyes finding velvet upholstery, intricately carved wood on a large four-poster bed, and matching wooden dressers and vanity. 

"Five!"

Briefly, he considers hiding, but if Namjoon is truly able to smell his fear, he does not think he would be able to stay concealed for very long. He turns somewhat uselessly, noting a door that he assumes leads to a closet, lounge chairs deeper in the room, and a large glass door at the far end. 

Running toward the door, he considers whether he may be able to jump off the balcony and chastises himself for not just running outside while he was still downstairs. This is how characters are caught in horror films, he reminds himself – by running upstairs instead of outside.

"Four!"

There is absolutely no way Namjoon wouldn't find him, if what he has said is true. But what if it is not? Jeongguk considers that some of what he has said could have been simply to scare him.

With a heavy sigh, Jeongguk pushes back thick, blood red curtains in search of which side of the glass panel is a door. On the far right, there is a black metal handle, with a small metal latch that Jeongguk works open. 

"Three!" 

Jeongguk feels a surge of excitement as he throws the door open, then instantly regrets his choice as he steps out into the cool night air. The balcony is large and rectangular, made of wrought iron and concrete, and it overlooks a steep hill that leads down to a large pond. Even if he could jump down safely, where the fuck would he go? 

Without a proper shirt, he could catch  any number of ailments from submerging himself in that water. But all thought of wanting to play Namjoon's game seeps away as Jeongguk's mind screams at him to get the fuck away from this house. 

"Two!" 

And there is no way in hell he would be able to outrun the man. Namjoon has already proven that he has the ability to move too fast for Jeongguk to even fathom. Fear spikes, and his teeth begin to rattle in the cold night air. All of this seems futile, and yet…he has to try. 

Namjoon's voice calling, "One!" is all Jeongguk needs to close the glass door behind him and then run to the edge of the balcony. He hardly thinks of the repercussions as he throws his legs over the railing, one after the other. With a glance over his shoulder, he tells himself that if he can manage to land on his feet and roll down the hill, he has a pretty good chance at survival. 

Jeongguk releases his hold on the railing, but rather than falling down, two strong, ice cold hands grip onto his wrists and yank him upward. 

"Going somewhere, little one?" Namjoon teases as he effortlessly returns Jeongguk to the balcony. 

Jeongguk cries out and trembles in the cold air, taking a step backward as soon as Namjoon lets go of his hands. His lower back hits the railing and he gasps, feeling like cornered prey once more.

"I thought you liked being afraid of me," Namjoon pouts, closing the space between them. "Were we not just playing a game?"

"I do…we are…I just—" Jeongguk cannot get his thoughts straight. Truth be told, as much as he considered flinging himself over the balcony, all he really wanted was for Namjoon to catch him. And catch him, he has. But what does this mean for Jeongguk? 

"Are you afraid of death?" Namjoon asks, cocking his head to the side. His reddish-brown eyes seem to glow in the pale light of the moon.

Without hesitation, Jeongguk shakes his head, muttering, "No."

"But you are afraid of me?"

As Jeongguk licks his lips, he watches Namjoon's eyes follow the movement. He wants Namjoon's tongue back on his body, and maybe…just maybe…he wants to become whatever Namjoon is.

"Sort of," he admits.

Namjoon steps so close, Jeongguk can feel the cold radiate from him. But he likes the way Namjoon's thigh slots between his legs. He likes how Namjoon's lips feel as they graze his throat as he says, "Elaborate, my sweet."

"I want to know you," Jeongguk says, eyes fluttering closed. "I want to become like you. But I don't…I don't know what that means."

"Life as you know it will be over," Namjoon breathes against his neck, forcing each of Jeongguk's exhales to shake from his lungs. 

Jeongguk is certain that there is nothing more inviting than leaving his life behind. "I know. That's what I want."

Namjoon takes a step back, just far enough that he can look Jeongguk in the eye. For the first time, he appears uncertain, and perhaps even a little sad. His hands gently cup Jeongguk's face, thumb leaving a chilled path over his cheek. "The first few months of this new existence will be full of pain and confusion."

With a scoff, Jeongguk mutters, "My entire life has been full of pain and confusion."

There is understanding in Namjoon's eyes, and Jeongguk questions everything he knows about the man. Could someone so delicate and handsome really be a monster? 

But then Jeongguk remembers the wound on his hip, and the superhuman speed, and the way Namjoon can command Jeongguk to think and do exactly what he wants. And he thinks he wants to have that kind of power all to himself. 

Without another word, Namjoon takes Jeongguk's hand and pulls him back inside the warmth of his bedroom. He releases Jeongguk's hand to close and lock the sliding glass door, and then he pulls the deep red curtains closed, leaving the two of them in the golden glow of a lamp that sits on the other side of the room, beside the massive bed. 

Namjoon turns and begins to make his way toward the bed, arms lifted and moving in a way that suggests he may be unbuttoning his jacket. It takes Jeongguk a moment to follow him, stepping softly onto an intricate rug that covers most of the floor. 

"I don't turn people often," Namjoon says as he looks over his shoulder and then begins to shrug out of his jacket. "In fact, I only planned to drain you tonight. If you were interested, I would have wanted to fuck you first, but ultimately, the plan was to leave you to die."

Something about Namjoon's candor is not only oddly comforting, but alluring. Perhaps Jeongguk should be most concerned with the bit about draining him and leaving him to die, but all he finds he can circle back to is the thought of Namjoon wanting to fuck him. 

Of course, he saw the way Namjoon licked at his skin, and his jeans are still unbuttoned from Namjoon opening them before deciding he would rather play a sordid game of cat and mouse. So it should really come as no surprise.

"Guess that makes me special," Jeongguk responds somewhat cheekily, feeling there is still a bit of a heaviness that hangs in the air, making him nervous. 

Namjoon spins on socked feet with his black button-up shirt halfway undone, nimble fingers working a button just below his pecs. The expanse of bare skin is inviting, and paired with the hungry look in Namjoon's eyes, it sends a thrill through Jeongguk.

"I have been wanting a companion for some time," Namjoon says, "and you do seem like a worthy man. You are very pretty, and I like your attitude."

"A companion?" Jeongguk responds, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He is not exactly a relationship type of guy, and suddenly, he feels a bit apprehensive. "Don't you think that's moving a little fast?"

In a blink, Namjoon is standing before Jeongguk, pushing at the collar of his jacket. Jeongguk actually chuckles at the thought that Namjoon's response to his remark was to quite literally move too fast. 

"Once I turn you," Namjoon mutters as Jeongguk's denim is pushed past his shoulders and begins to slide down his arms, "you will depend wholly on me for quite some time. Your hunger and other urges will be so strong that it will physically pain you to exist, and I will be the only tether you will have to any sense of sanity."

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk says, "You make it sound so dramatic," all the while his jacket crumples on the rug around his feet. 

Namjoon grabs the black tie that hangs around Jeongguk's neck and gently yanks on it, forcing Jeongguk to stumble into Namjoon and place his palms against his cold, muscular chest.

"Not to mention," Namjoon adds with a lift of his brow, "after I fuck you, you won't want to leave my side."

At this, Jeongguk scoffs, rubbing his hands over Namjoon's clothed nipples, which harden to the touch. His shirt hangs open around the waistline, still tucked in and forgotten. 

"I've been with a lot of men," Jeongguk challenges, tilting his head to the side. "A lot of men who have made a lot of empty promises. What makes you think you're so special?"

Namjoon's grip on the tie tightens, then releases, and he reaches for Jeongguk's left wrist, gently lifting it to his lips. 

"Oh, my darling boy," he mutters, lips dragging over Jeongguk's skin. "I have experienced centuries of pleasure. Those so-called men could not possibly fathom what I have to offer. And, not to mention…" Namjoon lifts his mouth and smiles widely, showing off his sharp teeth in a way that is both too menacing and intriguing for Jeongguk to comprehend. "...I can show you pleasurable pain the likes of which so few living men have ever experienced."

Without warning, Namjoon sinks his teeth into Jeongguk's wrist. The pain is so white-hot intense that Jeongguk's entire body tenses and he attempts to yank himself free. Namjoon's eyes open widely before rolling back, and he moans with pleasure as he retracts the teeth that have left two puncture marks in Jeongguk's skin, and he begins to suck. 

Blood play is something that Jeongguk has always done his best to steer clear of, and now this monstrous man has already made him bleed twice. What is more, Namjoon seems to really enjoy the taste of his blood – is this what he meant by draining Jeongguk and leaving him to die? Does Namjoon actually drink blood?

Jeongguk almost misses the tingle that works over his skin, leaving goosebumps and warmth in its wake. "You son of a bitch," he mumbles, knees turning loose like gelatin. "You're charming me again, aren't you?"

With a deep groan, Namjoon releases Jeongguk's wrist. Blood pools in two tooth-sized holes, and he is certain that he would be panicking over the blood loss if it were not for the mind control, or whatever the fuck Namjoon is done to him. 

"I prefer the term compulsion, but charm works, too," Namjoon says. He drags his tongue over Jeongguk's wrist, streaking it with red. 

"Will you be able to do this to me even after you have made me whatever you are?"

Namjoon smirks, responding, "Sadly, no. My charm only works on humans. Living humans." He drops Jeongguk's wrist, and even Jeongguk is surprised by how heavy his arm feels; he wonders if he is only standing because Namjoon has somehow commanded his limbs to do so. 

"I like the charm," Jeongguk mutters, feeling somewhat dizzy and light. "I like how shimmery and floaty it makes me. But I want to experience the fear and the pain. Please."

Jeongguk knows, somewhere in his mind, that what he is asking for might be something he comes to regret. But if what Namjoon says is true – if he really is going to transform Jeongguk into something not human – then Jeongguk wants to feel those intense human emotions one last time.

With a wide grin, Namjoon reaches down and begins to unzip Jeongguk's jeans. "As you wish, my pretty little human," he says, dropping to his knees. "But don't be surprised if it becomes unbearable. Now…let us finish what we started downstairs, shall we?"

He is silent and still as his senses return, watching as Namjoon reaches with sharp nails into the waistband of Jeongguk's briefs and begins to yank his garments down. Slowly, Jeongguk lifts his arm, feeling somewhat distressed that his wrist continues to bleed enough that blood runs down his palm and drips from his fingers. 

He even considers whether he should bandage the wound and apply pressure and all of that first aid stuff, but the feeling of Namjoon's ice cold palms gripping onto his half-hard cock has all thought leaving Jeongguk's mind. 

"Whoa," Jeongguk mutters, feeling the forces of gravity momentarily disagree with his body as he shifts on his feet in an attempt not to fall. Even from just a single touch, Jeongguk is buzzing and needy for more. 

"Ever do temperature play?" Namjoon asks as his hands stroke Jeongguk to fully erect. 

Jeongguk is not sure he even knows what that is, and he shakes his head, saying, "No."

"Some find the chill of my mouth to be rather exquisite," Namjoon responds without missing a beat, sitting high on his knees. 

The cold, wet drag of Namjoon's tongue along the length of Jeongguk's shaft makes him groan and shiver. It is striking how different it feels, and he struggles somewhat to get his bearings. And then Namjoon opens wide and engulfs Jeongguk's cock, causing him to sob out from how cold but simultaneously wet and inviting his mouth is. 

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, lifting his hands to grip onto Namjoon's lavender hair. "Holy fuck."

Namjoon sucks Jeongguk's dick with a fervor he has never experienced. With seemingly no gag reflex, Namjoon swallows deep and hard, groaning when Jeongguk's hips buck and tremble uncontrollably. Pleasure builds and crashes inside him, and he worries he may cum in an instant. 

And then he feels the sharp drag of teeth against his cock, and fear spikes so intensely that he roughly tugs on Namjoon's hair, to no avail. Namjoon stares up at Jeongguk as he presses the tip of his cock far into his throat, causing tears to form in his pretty, dangerous eyes. 

He is certain that Namjoon is fucking with him – making him feel the fear that he asked for only moment ago – and he does his best to relax. With his pants and briefs hugging around his ankles, it is not as if Jeongguk would be able to go anywhere, anyway; Namjoon more or less has him trapped, as always. 

Namjoon hums deep as his eyes flutter closed and he slurps and sucks, picking up speed. He wraps his hands around Jeongguk's hips and manually rocks Jeongguk against him, forcing him to fuck his mouth. Jeongguk finds the rhythm with his hips, though the pleasure is so overwhelming, he is certain that he will bust very soon. 

"Oh, god," Jeongguk moans, head lolling back while he continues to hold Namjoon by the hair. "I'm gonna cum."

As he chases his high, his hips rock faster, and Namjoon accommodates without any trouble, slurping and sucking and humming to the rhythm of Jeongguk's body. Even as flashes of Namjoon's terrible superhuman speed and affinity to lick his bleeding wounds play through his mind, Jeongguk only becomes more aroused rather than disgusted, pushing him over the edge. 

Namjoon swallows deeply the moment Jeongguk opens his mouth to croak out a warning that only falls from his lips as a moan. He cums hard, whimpering and sobbing as his body bends at the hips and threatens to topple over. Somehow, Jeongguk remains on his feet, hands sliding down to Namjoon's shoulders to anchor himself up. 

When Namjoon finally releases his cock, Jeongguk is relieved to find there is no blood. His relief is quickly dashed, however, when he notices red streaks in Namjoon's hair and realizes his wrist is still bleeding. Not only that, but he feels incredibly dizzy, and he is certain that it cannot be entirely from how talented Namjoon is at sucking dick. 

As Jeongguk lightly lifts his left arm and watches blood trickle past his fingers, he sighs. He should really be more concerned about bleeding to death, and he wonders if Namjoon has compelled him not to care. 

"On the bed," Namjoon instructs as he stands and finishes untucking and unbuttoning his black dress shirt. "I want to enjoy you while you're still warm."

Jeongguk grumbles something under his breath that even he is uncertain of, then stumbles forward, forgetting that his pants are still snug around his ankles. He reaches for Namjoon, who takes hold of his non-bleeding arm, and uses him as leverage to step out of his right pant leg and then his left. 

Wearing only the black tie around his neck, Jeongguk shuffles over to the bed, placing his palms against cold black satin and hoisting himself up. He is definitely woozy, and he practically falls face-first onto the blanket before crawling to where he surmises is the center. 

The mattress dips and Jeongguk is shoved down against the bed, gasping as he uselessly tries to find purchase against the sheet. Cold hands press his ass and spread him wide before an even colder tongue laps over his hole, making Jeongguk tremble and sob. 

Namjoon is rough with the way he prods Jeongguk open, barely giving him time to adjust before stretching him further. Jeongguk would beg for him to slow down if he weren't so enthralled with the way Namjoon handles him, and he wonders once again if he is charmed by the monster, as well. 

"So pliant and tight," Namjoon groans. "And so warm."

Jeongguk loses track of which ice cold appendage or muscle prises him open, occasionally feeling one wetter than the others. It isn't until Namjoon shoves him roughly onto his back that Jeongguk watches a beautifully nude monster in the form of a human man spread his thighs nice and wide and begin to spear him on his thick, frigid cock.

When barely a sound louder than a croak comes from between Jeongguk's lips, Namjoon pouts mockingly, whining, "Awe, don't die just yet, little one; give me one more orgasm first."

All Jeongguk can do is lay and take what Namjoon gives him, barely capable of moving his own limbs. The bed is soaked with blood that he knows has come from his wrist, and although Namjoon's cock feels incredible inside him, he is unsure whether his own cock is hard at all. 

"Fuck," Namjoon groans as he leans forward with one hand anchored against the bed. He looks impatient as he lifts his other wrist to his mouth and pierces his teeth into the flesh. 

Jeongguk gasps at the sight, certain that now they are both doomed; surely they cannot both survive puncture wounds to their arteries. Never mind everything Namjoon said earlier about surviving centuries, and all that. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, only seems mildly inconvenienced as he holds his wrist above Jeongguk's face and allows his blood to drip down onto his mouth. 

At first, Jeongguk flinches, disgusted by the ice cold, thick and brassy blood that drops onto his lips and chin. He closes his lips tight in the hope of keeping any of the liquid from seeping in. But then he gets a taste of the blood, and everything changes. 

Instantly, Jeongguk feels a pull to Namjoon that seems to take him by storm. He needs the blood, and he needs it now – of that, he is certain. 

Jeongguk reaches up with weak hands and grips onto Namjoon's hand and arm, tugging the bleeding wrist down to his lips. With an amused chuckle, Namjoon complies, giving Jeongguk what he needs while continuing to fuck into him. 

The combination of drinking blood from Namjoon's wrist while getting fucked by him feels like there is glitter shimmering in his bloodstream, alighting every blood vessel. Arousal crashes more intensely than it had before, and Jeongguk not only feels healed from his earlier wound, but he feels strong. 

The blood also tastes better than anything Jeongguk has ever sampled before, and he is desperate to get his fill, eyes rolling back as he moans and sucks and moans some more. He feels fucking drunk. 

Namjoon is a mess of groans and whimpers, and he begins to yank his wrist away from Jeongguk, who grips tightly with both hands as if his life depends on it. He is certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that without this blood, he may die. 

"Enough, little one," Namjoon grits, clearly struggling as his hips continue their assault, smacking sounds echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Before, Jeongguk could swear he heard and felt the pounding of his own heart, but now there is nothing.

Jeongguk finally releases his hold, moaning and sobbing through the quick, dizzying build and crash of an orgasm. Without warning, he sprays cum on his tummy, only to feel the pleasure build and build once again. 

"Yes, that's it," Namjoon moans, reaching to cradle Jeongguk's head, which lolls uselessly against the satin sheet, "I want you to cum again."

Namjoon grips onto Jeongguk's thighs, spreading him impossibly wider, and fucks him at a pace so punishing, he worries Namjoon's cock might burrow too deep inside him. Briefly, he considers begging for a break, but the feeling is so euphoric, he only teeters on the edge of overstimulation without fully plunging over. 

But then he begins to black out. Little blips of time and space at first, before he wonders if he is imagining things, entirely. Jeongguk blinks his heavy eyelids open to find Namjoon appearing like some kind of beast from hell with long, sharp teeth and glowing red eyes, fucking him with a fervor that almost feels like hatred. 

And then he imagines his chest being clawed open. The pain is dreadful, but he is also being fucked so good, he is incapable of reconciling the two feelings. He even thinks that perhaps all the blood in his body erupts from his chest cavity in one final, harrowing tug of strong cold hands ripping him at his ribs like an animal carcass. 

And then he wakes up.

He feels no pain or fatigue as his eyes blink open. In fact, he feels more invigorated and alert than he has in all of his life. There is nobody in the bed beside him, and as he glances around, he realizes that it must be dark outside, which begs the question of whether it is the same night, or whether he has fucked and slept well into the following night. 

The events of his night with Namjoon are so eerie, that as they seep in and he begins to remember what happened, he almost feels confused. Certainly none of that could have been real, but he clearly remembers the man existing, and he has woken up in a bed that must belong to Namjoon. 

Jeongguk sits up and stretches his limbs, pleased with how incredible he feels. He thinks that he could run a marathon and hardly break a sweat with the energy that courses through him, and he surprises himself with how it takes hardly any exertion at all to toss the comforter aside. 

Discarded on the floor are his jeans, briefs, and jacket, and folded on the nightstand appears to be his tie. However, Jeongguk decides that he is feeling brazen, and he stands from the bed and heads for the door in the nude. He feels so invigorated that he wants to find Namjoon and entice him into bending him over whichever surface they encounter first and fucking him until he is dizzy. 

As Jeongguk makes his way out of the master suite and down along the second floor hallway, he becomes aware of two things simultaneously. The first is the smell, and the second is the sound.

Just before the top landing of the stairs, to the right, there is a door cracked open and a light on inside, and without giving it any thought whatsoever, Jeongguk knows that what he senses is coming from that room, so he picks up his pace and walks a little quicker, feet padding over a soft rug that lines the center of the hallway. 

Nothing can prepare Jeongguk for what he walks in on when he opens the door, nor can it ready him for the way the scene makes him feel. 

In the dead center of a rather small, dimly lit room, is a nude person restrained by the wrists and ankles to a large wooden X. Blood pours from the person's left wrist and arm, and Namjoon stands off to the side, to the right of the person, also nude with blood covering his chin. 

Before Jeongguk can make his presence known, Namjoon's eyes are on him, and his grin is wide. "Hello, my little fledgling," Namjoon calls somewhat menacingly as he turns his body fully to Jeongguk and opens his arms wide and invitingly.

Jeongguk should be horrified, but instead he is filled with an overwhelming need to taste. He shuffles forward, almost robotically, and approaches Namjoon, slotting himself against his side, beneath one of his open arms. And then he begins to lick the blood from Namjoon's chin. 

The person restrained to the X groans – the sound that Jeongguk is certain he heard earlier – and rather than filling him with the urge to save or protect the person, Jeongguk finds he almost wants to mock the person and make them produce even more desperate sounds. In fact, Jeongguk finds that more than anything, he wants to rip the person's skin open and drink all of their blood. 

"I trust you slept well?" Namjoon asks sweetly as Jeongguk finishes lapping the blood from his chin and turns his attention to their captor. 

"I did," Jeongguk mutters, surprised by the quality of his own voice. He sounds dreamy, almost as if he is put under yet another one of Namjoon's spells, only this time, all he can focus on is the blood that trickles down the stranger's arm. 

Namjoon's fingertips on Jeongguk's chin and throat no longer feel cold, yet Jeongguk shivers to the touch as Namjoon asks, "And how do you feel?"

Moments ago, Jeongguk felt more alive than ever before, but now—

"Hungry."

To simply say he feels hungry is an understatement, but Jeongguk is so wholly enthralled by the wriggling person captive before him, it is all he can express. 

Fingertips push back at the hair around Jeongguk's forehead and neck in a delicate motion that makes him swoon for blood even more. Is this his life now? To crave and to drink and be loved? Is Namjoon really the monster he says he is?

"Feed, my darling. Drink until you feel their pulse still."

A strange pain overtakes Jeongguk's mouth, and he quickly reaches to his gums to feel the impossible – his incisors are sharp, just as Namjoon's had been. With a gasp, he turns to Namjoon, startled. What strange ritual has taken place? Has he already begun to change? Is he already dead?

Namjoon cups the end of Jeongguk's chin and smiles softly, asking, "What are you waiting for?"

Jeongguk has so many questions that swirl and dizzy him, but the only thing he can bring himself to care about is that tangy, inviting scent of blood. He stands high on his tippy toes and reaches for the person's wrist, but Namjoon presses a hand over Jeongguk's chest, keeping him from reaching with his lips. 

"The neck is so much better, my little darling." Namjoon reaches to tap his sharp fingers on the side of the throat. "Sink your teeth in right here, where you can see their heart beating."

Without hesitation, Jeongguk steps forward, grips the captor by the hair and roughly moves their head to the side. He can see the pulse beating against their skin – can hear the sound of their heart as if its squeeze and relax were being amplified straight into Jeongguk's mind. When he leans in close, dragging his lips over the skin, there is an alluring scent that seems so indescribably human that pulls him closer. 

Jeongguk sinks his teeth into the skin of the person's neck just as he had watched Namjoon sink his teeth into his own wrist, feeling a spark of arousal as the person whimpers and sobs. It takes him by surprise how much he has to really dig his sharp teeth into the flesh, but once it breaks, the blood pours into his mouth. So much, in fact, that he gasps and feels it run down his chin. 

It takes Jeongguk a moment to realize he needs to pull his teeth from the puncture wounds to properly drink from the skin, but once he does, he feels every inch of himself burst and bloom with life. How could Namjoon call himself undead when this is the most energized he has ever felt?

Jeongguk can feel the heartbeat against his lips – can feel as it slows. The captive continues to wiggle and cry out, but it is impossible for them to match Jeongguk's strength as he languidly sucks and licks at the pouring blood. He even decides he has had his fill before their heart has a chance to stop. 

"All done, my darling?" Namjoon asks, taking Jeongguk by the chin and licking over his neck and his lips and anywhere the blood may have been spilt. 

Jeongguk smiles and shrugs, saying, "You can finish them," and steps aside to watch Namjoon take his place at their neck. Blood pours from the wound down the dip of their clavicle and chest, and Namjoon licks a streak leading to their wounds, groaning as his lips close over the holes. 

Something about this visual makes Jeongguk desperate to feel Namjoon on and inside him – makes him want Namjoon to rip him apart and piece him back together again. Despite feeling sated, he also yearns so desperately to be fucked and adored and touched and tasted. 

Namjoon must sense it – or, perhaps, knows the way he must feel – and he steps away from the body that hangs lifelessly and smiles with blood-stained lips as he closes the space between their bodies to bring Jeongguk in for a kiss. 

Every cell of Jeongguk's body yearns for Namjoon. In an act of desperation, Jeongguk spins out of Namjoon’s hold and places his palms against the wall near the open door leading to the hallway. He pushes his ass out and glances over his shoulder, batting his lashes and asking, "Please?"

Namjoon drops to his knees and wastes no time tongue-fucking Jeongguk until he is whimpering and begging for more. Jeongguk must still be stretched from before, because Namjoon presses his cock in nice and deep without much preparation and grips Jeongguk by the neck as he carves him open, bowing Jeongguk's back so their faces touch. 

"All mine," Namjoon growls as he fucks Jeongguk so hard he fears his spine might just snap. "My pretty little fledgling, I will never let you go. All you need in this world is me. All you are in this world is mine."

"Yours," Jeongguk babbles between sobs and broken consonants, speeding toward orgasm as his body struggles to keep up with the myriad sensations that overwhelm.

In between moments of blissful pleasure come fierce, sharp moments of confusion, pain, and a thirst so unlike anything Jeongguk has ever experienced. It is as if he blacks out occasionally and returns a fiendish monster whose only drive is to kill, kill, kill! 

Namjoon placates him at times, pushing his buttons to make him more devilish – more angry. He fills Jeongguk's mind with a distrust for humans and teaches him how to lurk in the shadows and hunt. 

"When you learn to control your urges better," Namjoon assures, balls-deep in him beside two corpses in a dark alleyway with Jeongguk's leg slung over his hip, "I will teach you how to blend into society better."

Jeongguk has no idea how much time passes, but he lives only in darkness, only to feed on the blood of living humans, only to serve and please Namjoon. He feels frustrated, confused, and angry with Namjoon, who seems to lavish Jeongguk's unfettered need to be by his side. 

Despite the overwhelming pleasure and insatiable appetite Namjoon has for fucking him, Jeongguk feels trapped both in his need, and in his desire, to stay by Namjoon's side. 

"The urges will pass, my darling fledgling," Namjoon promises against his lips, hand tugging Jeongguk's cock until he screams out Namjoon's name. "Until then, I will take such good care of you. All you need in this world is me. All you are in this world is mine.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! 🦇🩸🧛‍♂️🍂🎃👻😈💀 HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

i hope you had fun with this. please do not ask for a part two lmao my brain is mush and i refuse to perceive these two further. i have too many eggs in too many baskets!!!

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS MAKE ALL THE DIFFERENCE, AND LIKES ARE SUPER APPRECIATED, TOO!!! 💜💜💜

no tag list for dead dove contents! thanks for understanding!!!

Fledgling is copyright theharrowing 2023. no translations or reposting allowed!

Going to try and catch up on a ton of reading tomorrow on my flight back home! I have sooo much on my tbr 😬

Bite Me, Jeon | JJK | (m)

❀ Pairing: vampire/ college student! Jungkook x college student! female reader

❀ Summary: Somehow you convince Jeon Jungkook to look into theories of vampirism for a research paper. What Jungkook doesn’t expect, is for vampirism to become a very real and very personal problem for him.

❀ Word Count: 19,376

❀ Genre: Friends to lovers, supernatural, a hint of angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Some angst, Taehyung is kinda an ass, blood play (Jungkook is a vampire, guys), ridiculous science and historical accounts that I MADE UP (I am not a scientist!!!), mentions of diseases, explicit language, verbal threats, turning someone into a vampire against their will, depictions of blood, biting, conspiracy theories, recreational drinking, mentions of recreational drug use in the past (briefly), a little bit of pining, sexually explicit content including: oral (f. and m. receiving, m. briefly receives) spitting, blood play and biting, spitting, sub-space themes post orgasm, fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex (pls practice safe sex guys). I think I got everything - pls tell me if I missed something.

❀ Published: May 7, 2022

❀ A/N: HAPPY HALFWAY TO HALLOWEEN EVERYONE AKA HALFWAY TO MY FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR. It's here! This took me absolutely forever to write because I wrote it in so many pieces. It is WAY longer than I anticipated, but as I've always said: I find it nearly impossible to write PWP because I live for plot and world building. This is the beloved sibling to Don't Read Dead Languages, the other installment of my Halfway to Halloween celly (est. post date is tomorrow) And yes - I did create characters in here with the intention of doing their stories for Halloween this year :) Please enjoy.Please keep in mind that I am not a scientist and a historian and I took A LOT of liberties with mythology and historical accounts to make my own plot. While I mention real diseases and historical figures, I quite literally made this up. It's not accurate. Pls don't come for my scientist brain because it doesn't exist.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask |

The lights in your corner of the library are dim and flickering. The air is cold and damp- though that is common for the old part of the library where your group huddles. As the least favorite academic club in your school’s college of history and humanities, the table assignments in the warmer and brighter side of the library are rarely ever given to you.

The creepy table for the creeps, the student-run desk attendants usually murmur when you arrive first to check in for your allotted study time. 

You’ve requested the higher tech rooms over fifty times, but it’s the same response every time: Are you even a real academic club? Leave the digital screens and resources to the STEM majors. 

So Old Stacks it was. It had earned that name when the library was extended to above ground with three more floors. The subterranean parts were now reserved for the original study rooms and table areas that had gone years without updating. Most of the shelving is in disarray, containing old volumes of books no longer referenced. 

Most people dread the Old Stacks. You don’t mind them. There is a comfort in knowing you will be left alone among the silence and the flickering lights. Plus, you know how to accommodate for its quirks now. You always pack sweaters, always bring snacks since the vending machines are a mile away, and you bring a portable desk light. 

Making things work is mostly what your group does. Well- making things real is the focus. 

Sure, your Science and History of the Supernatural club was originally been created as an ode to the long-running television show Supernatural, but it has since developed into something legit, with academics studying the mysteries of the world and working to apply levels of historical research and scientific methods to prove and disprove a number of creatures, stories and legends. 

It's nerd shit, as Jungkook calls it. You don’t even want to get into the argument of what you define as a nerd with him. He has enough anime posters on his apartment walls and spends every cent he earns streaming toward his ridiculously flashy gaming setup. 

Nerd shit. 

Despite him making fun of your group, Jungkook sometimes comes to meetings. Even if it’s because you needed a sixth person to be considered a legitimate academic club. Even if it it’s because you offered to do his laundry every Saturday for a single semester as a bribe to keep the club going. 

Pulling your cardigan closer, you scroll through your tablet with the proposal you carefully put together for review. It’s for your final research paper in your folklore class- an elective you didn’t need to graduate, but an important elective toward your desired dream job of working for a private curation company in charge of recovering, investigating and selling ancient artifacts. Kim Namjoon, a professor who participated in the very group you now led, had given you some tips on what you needed to apply to the prestigious position. 

The subject of your final project is courageous. It leans heavily on a lot of pseudoscience and genuine historical events and documents. You know it doesn’t necessarily matter if the experiment itself yields a factual result. You’re not a scientist, but even a negative result is something worth noting in your paper. 

Jungkook is the first to arrive at the library. He’s got a paper bag shoved under his arms, the first signs of grease ruining the paper on the edges. You can smell the fries immediately, groaning as he sets up next to you with an evil grin. 

“Got your favorite,” he announces in a sing-song voice. 

You hate the way he spoils you with food. Jungkook’s habits at the gym and generally maintaining a healthy lifestyle help him to look… well perfect. Small waist, broad shoulders and thick biceps with a heartbreaking face made to love. 

Not thinking about how lovely his face was had become a favorite pastime of yours. 

“You’re going to make me gain weight,” you growl, snatching the back from him to find seasoned fries inside. You indulge, humming as you bite into the greasy goodness. “This isn’t fair, Jeon.”

“Who cares if you do?” Jungkook kicks his feet up on the table, ignoring you as you try to shove them off. Even if you’re in the worst part of the Old Stacks, you feel the urge to be respectful. “You’re pretty regardless, Indy.”

You smirk at the nickname. He was constantly calling you Indiana Jones and Indy for short. You wished you were as cool, but you’ll never tell him that. “Tell that to my long line of non-existent suitors. And get your feet off the table.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but moves his feet, much to your pleasure.

Your club members file in one at a time, a mix of science majors and history majors. Jungkook is the only one out of his depth, but he usually enjoys the meetings. He doesn’t always say so, but you find open articles on his computer when he thinks you’re not looking about banshees and werewolves on occasion.

Hoseok opens a bag of chips, his notebooks perfectly placed as he leans on his elbows eagerly. “You’re running your folklore project by us today, right? I’ve been dying to see what you came up with.”  

“Why?” Mari asks, flipping through a textbook with an unimpressed pout. You try to fight the urge to lean over and bop her directly on the fucking head. “It’s just another project.”

Mari will never outright say she doesn’t like you. In general, you suppose she’s nice enough. She’s let you borrow a resource or two and she’ll peer review your work if Hoseok or Elena aren’t available. But she always makes sure to downplay your successes, and there is an undercurrent of something aggressive whenever she directs comments and questions your way.

Jungkook hates Mari. You notice the way he glares over the top of his computer screen at her now, his pout tilting downward and his eyes boring holes in her forehead. She doesn’t seem to notice. Even if she did, any reaction she can draw out of Jungkook is one she enjoys. From the moment Jungkook joined your club to save it, she has never passed a moment to thank him again and again for joining.

It's a topic that is hotly debated between you and Jungkook. He doesn’t think anyone is interested in him. He knows he’s a nerd by definition. He speaks in anime jokes and he doesn’t come out of his room on the weekends when he’s deep into and Overwatch binge. And no matter how many times you tell him, Jungkook has no idea how cute he is.

“Because,” Hoseok shoots back pointedly at Mari. “She’s also submitting this paper to Namjoon who is passing it to his boss at his very secretive artifact agency. It’s important.”

“Namjoon,” Mari sighs, putting her hand over her heart. “We will never have a president of this club like him.”

Jungkook looks at her pointedly. “I think ours is just fine.”

You shoot him a grateful look, ignoring the way Mari scrambles to correct herself and assure you that it wasn’t meant to be offensive. Especially when it definitely was.

Jimin is the last to show up, murmuring apologies as he tosses his things on the table. He looks effortlessly beautiful as always, pink hair styled back and subtle designer clothing hanging perfectly on his frame. Jimin is the type of beautiful that you envy- not because he gets attention, but because he is otherworldly.

“Project time, project time!” Jimin chants, clapping his hands together. He’s an English Literature major with a keen interest in folklore and mythology. You were pretty sure he kept a copy of The Iliad on him at all times. “I’m so excited to see what you’ve got.”

The group settles in and turn their eyes to you as you flip your iPad around. The topic is incredibly out there- even for you- and your palms get sweaty as you sift through your notes and cited sources regarding the topic.

“Okay don’t laugh,” you say seriously, levelling all of them with a glare. “And remember that the actual result doesn’t matter as much as the research and documentation process.”

“Spit it out,” Jimin whines.

So you do.

Flipping through the iPad, you launch into an incredibly lengthy and thorough relationship between the history of the legend of vampires through various time periods, starting the research specifically with the rumors and lack of historical data surrounding Vlad the Impaler, ruler of Walachia, Romania.

At first, the group seems unsure. You can sense their uneasiness on the topic, but you push forward, pulling out historical accounts and journals during the Middle Ages during years when the plague burned through European countries, cross-referencing it with the uptick in supposed vampire sightings and rumors.

The interesting part of your research surrounds a disease known as Porphyria, which was detected in the middle ages during a spike in the plague. There were several variations of the disease, resulting in skin blistering when exposed to sunlight.

“Okay so you get a sunburn with pory-whatever?” Jimin asks.

You glare. “Your skin literally blisters, but let me finish. They did studies on people who got the disease and discovered that ingesting blood relieved most if not all of the symptoms related to those who had it. Furthermore, people who ingested the blood of those with porphyria immediately displayed symptoms.”

“What does this have to do with vampirism?” Mari sighed.

“Though it’s implied in most of these medical documents that it can be passed through family members, look at this specifically family tree I pulled with one of the first patients who underwent testing.”

Jungkook took the sheet of paper from you, pouting his lip and furrowing his brow as he read. You chewed nervously on the inside of your cheek as he scanned the tree and tilted his head. “Wilhelmina Dracia- an ancestor of Vlad the Impaler.”

“Exactly, Jeon!” you announce. “So it got me thinking. There were other undocumented diseases during the plague. Even now, there were small towns marked as killed by the plague but they had no evidence that they actually suffered deaths from the plague. Do you know what the neighboring towns were suspected to have?”

“Porphyria?” Jungkook asked, glancing upward. “Do you think porphyria is vampirism?”

“I think it’s a strain of vampirism.”

“Just a strain?” Hoseok asks, taking one of the papers from your notes. You’re thrilled they’re asking questions and hand him two other family trees. “Wait- I though Anne Rice’s novel was total fiction? Lestat was a real person?”

“I think he was based on a real person. Loren de Lion was a real person born in a farming village outside of Paris.” You tap the top of his family tree. “What name do you see there?”

“Mihai Dracal.” Hoseok holds out his hand to Jungkook for Wilhelmina’s family tree and looks back and forth between them. “No way. They share an ancestor. So why isn’t Loren on this family tree?”

“He produced no heirs. This is where I began wondering about strains. Look at these journal entries from Loren de Lion in Paris and then compare it to these entries by Laure de Lions in New Orleans during the 1900s.”

“I remember this,” Hoseok reads from the newer entry. “It is all so familiar. I fear I am not alone in my dear city of New Orleans. I must flee, for there is no stronger breed of sickness than jiangshi. I hope to withstand this breed, but I must flee the city.”

“Breed of sickness?” It’s Mari who asks the question much to your surprise. And sort of pleasure. “Who calls sickness a breed.”

“Right?”

“Jiangshi?” Jungkook asks. “That’s an ancient story of creatures sucking the qi out of humans. It’s popular in Korean Dramas.”

Mari gestures to another family tree sitting on top of academic papers. You hand them over to her with a smirk. She’s so focused on scanning the family tree that she doesn’t notice. “This family- you associated them with Jiangshi?”

“Yes. In fact, they have a son who recently graduated from here. He owns a popular night club in the next city over.”

“Wait…” Jimin mutters, looking up Kim Taehyung on his phone. His eyes go round and he looks up at you. “You mean he owns Nightshade? That club is not only ridiculously exclusive and membership only, but last year there was a massive story on them. One of their members was arrested for aggravated assault on his boyfriend and he claimed that he was driven to insanity by the occult practices at the club.”

You lift up the article in question. “They were going to go to trial any everything. But the Kim family is stupid rich they’re represented by Min Associates.”

“Seriously? I’ve heard that Min Associates have the best lawyers in the world. You could be caught red-handed guilty and get away with it if they’re on the case.” Mari asks, snatching the article from Jimin. “I’ve heard their son is called the Demon in the court room. No one can beat him.”

You shrug. “My point is, this guy? He was willing to talk until he wasn’t. He was sentenced to a few years and let out on good behavior. No one has heard from him since.”

“So what’s your plan?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowed as he regards you. “Please don’t tell me you plan on getting involved with Nightshade and trying to become a member to see what’s going on. Come on, Indy.”

“Jimin?” You ask and he looks up at you. “Your friend Jin is in the entertainment sector, isn’t he?”

Jimin glares. You give him a soft pout and round eyes, earning a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

-

A week after you discuss your project with your peers, Jungkook shows up at your apartment with a box full of pizza, your favorite flavor of wings, and soda. You give him a narrowed look, letting him in nonetheless as the smell of grease makes your mouth water.

Though you live alone, Jungkook has spent most of his time at your small apartment two blocks away from school to be considered a roommate.  

“To what do I owe being spoiled?” You ask skeptically as Jungkook places the items on your kitchen counter. He moves confidently, taking out plates and setting them down before grabbing cups for your drinks. It’s entirely domestic and you chew your lip watching him. “That’s a lot of wings.”

“Can’t I just want to come watch movies with my best friend?”

“Yes, but it’s Friday. And on Fridays you usually do your Mario Party stream with viewers.”

“You know my schedule?” His cheeks are tinted pink when he asks, smiling at the ground as he places food on the plates. You don’t answer- of course you know his schedule- and take the plate offered to you. “I just wanted to hangout.”

“Sus.”

Jungkook takes a bite of his pizza, chewing happily as he levels you with a look. “Maybe I want to try and talk you out of your project.” You groan and he gestures to the couch. “Come on, we don’t have to fight while we eat.”

“So we’re going to fight?”

He gives a small smirk. “Maybe. I don’t know. Not during pizza and maybe an episode of One Piece?”

You hum in doubt but join him on the couch, pulling up the extended-top of the coffee table to set your food on top. You both cross your feet and settle in as Jungkook navigates the streaming service easily, picking up where you left off.

It’s hard to remember when exactly you let him talk you into watching the entire anime series, but it seems never ending. Jungkook won’t let you watch episodes without him, but he’s good about keeping a watch-schedule. And you have to admit- you like the show.

True to his word, Jungkook doesn’t bring up your project while you eat. It doesn’t stop you from stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye, trying to figure out what about it bothers him.

Clubbing isn’t really your thing. You gave it a good run when you were a freshman, slowing a bit when you were a sophomore. You didn’t mind drinking- wine was pretty much your preference- but being out around a bunch of sweaty strangers while someone always managed to have a bad night in your group was sort of exhausting.

So you limited your nights out to few and far between, but you always managed to have fun.

Perhaps it was the mysteriousness of the club that Jungkook didn’t like. After revealing your topic of interest, you had scoured the internet together to show him what you could find on Nightshade and its members. There was a website for the club, but the only information available was that it was an exclusive night club, and that memberships were limited. There was no information to apply. There was nothing but an address, a business license, and a small blurb on the owner- Kim Taehyung.

The infamous Kim Taehyung was easier to look up. He was a wealthy businessman in the next city over and was a wealthy contributor to your school. He participated in plenty of charity work- particularly organizations that specialized in raising money for rare blood diseases and their study.

That was interesting and on brand for your paper.

Every photo you saw of the man was nothing short of stunning. Dark hair that was usually styled back, eyes that could cut through a camera lens, and a face that belonged in high fashion. He was heartbreakingly beautiful. Even Jungkook had whistled and stared for a while.

Taehyung, as stunning as he was, had private social media and there wasn’t much beyond a few articles from business and entertainment magazines who had posted how elusive the club owner was. Even the articles containing information about the lawsuit against his club were difficult to find.

A few blogs were dedicated to uncovering and guessing what exactly went on at Nightshade, but they were thus far unsuccessful. You had no idea why you thought you were going to be the one to figure it out, but you were determined.

Jungkook leaned back and sighed. You chewed on your lip, watching as he leveled his gaze at you. You shifted nervously under his stare, unable to read his expression. Your heart and stomach fluttered- for reasons completely unrelated to knowing he was going to question you.

“I think you should turn in your paper without the investigation on the end,” Jungkook said finally. “You’re not an investigative journalist. Your class is about folklore and where it intersects with history, and I think you’ve done that. You’ve combined science, popular legends and historical documents and family trees to support your guess. I think that’s enough.”

“It isn’t,” you insist, shaking your head. “It’s a competitive job. Namjoon only started working there last year after his massive discovery in Egypt. This company- it’s the private sector, which means a lot of benefits and a lot of money. It would send me all over the world and give me assignments I’d never get at a museum or as a professor.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Your paper is good enough to get you in.”

“It’s not. What happens when they ask if I discovered what was at the club?”

“This is for a company that specializes in archaeology and history. They’re not Buzzfeed Unsolved.”

“It would demonstrate a lack of dedication for me not to do this.”

“How? You’re pulling from multiple types of sources and the Center for Disease Control for crying out loud! What about this fucking club is that important to a historical paper?”

“I need to know if I’m right!”

You shout it at Jungkook, making him flinch. You close your eyes and heave a sigh, running a hand over your face. You soften as you murmur, “What is the point of the paper if there isn’t an answer?”

“So that’s what it’s about. Proving you’re right. And if you’re wrong?” You shrug. “At the end of the day, this is folklore. You applied science and history, but… vampires, Indy?”

A sour feeling enters your stomach. You stand up and begin cleaning and Jungkook groans, knowing he’s upset you. You don’t care if he knows. You stomp to the kitchen, chucking the crumbs into the trash and shoving dishes into the sink. You’re cleaning and refusing to look at him as he calls your name from the couch.

You know the idea of vampires is… ridiculous. In reality, you know that your little club is laughed at. Ridiculed. No one takes is seriously. They won’t even let you rent a room in the library proper.

Your throat tightens as you fight the urge to cry. You don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook, especially over something so stupid. But being right is more than just… having put together a convoluted puzzle piece. It means your worth of a prestigious job and it means… well it means the museums you already applied to and failed to get in were wrong about you.

“Talk to me.” You flinch, not realizing Jungkook moved to the kitchen. He’s standing right behind you when you glance over your shoulder. You turn away and rub your face quickly on your shoulder, trying to hide that a tear escapes. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m not crying, Jeon.”

You hear him laugh. “Okay, well I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

When you don’t answer, trying to stop the burn in your eyes and the weight of the rejections, Jungkook steps forward and wraps his arms around you, squeezeing You place your hands on his arms and squeeze back, knowing he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

“I’m sorry, Indy,” he whispers, his voice sincere. “I just care about you and even if we don’t find vampires, something about this place and Kim Taehyung gives me the creeps.”

“We?” You sniff, laughing slightly.

“Of course. You didn’t think you were going alone, did you?” He squeezes and places his chin on your shoulder. “Indiana Jones always had a sidekick. Sidekick Jeon Jungkook reporting for duty.”

A few minutes pass in the kitchen with Jungkook just holding you. And you let him. He’s warm and he smells floral, making you smile as he sways you back and forth a bit. You melt into him. You want to stay like that far more than you should.

Just when your nervous it’s going to get awkward, you murmur, “I didn’t get the apprenticeship at The Metropolitan or Louvre. They said that I didn’t stand out enough.”

“Oh, Indy…”

“And I don’t blame them. My projects and papers have been basic. Organized. Perfectly executed but… there is nothing special about them. Nothing special about me.”

“That isn’t true at all.”

The vehemence he states this leaves no room for argument, drawing a smile from you. He settles back on your shoulder as you murmur, “I just… want to do something different. Step out of my comfort zone, you know? I just want to be special.”

“You are to me, if that counts.”

Fuck. It counts so much more than Jungkook realizes. Every time he shows up to a club that he doesn’t have to be a part of, every time he brings you pizza, or lets you come watch him stream, or he talks you through an anime you don’t quite understand- you do feel special with Jungkook. Maybe not in the way you want most, but in a way that counts.

Jungkook sighs, pulling you from your thoughts. “Jimin said Jin can get you in, but there’s a shit ton of applications and documentation we have to do.”

You spin around. He drops his embrace, chewing the inside of his cheek as he looks down at you. Your heart skips as you grab his arms, nails digging in. “Seriously? Just like that?”

He laughs without humor. “Jin said that he can submit an application on our behalf. Not that it would get accepted and Indy… it’s pretty intense. We have to have background checks, blood tests-“

“Blood tests?”

He grimaces. “I knew you’d fixate on that.”

You ignore him. “This is perfect. It just lends itself to my paper. Who needs a blood test to get into a nightclub? There has to be something they’re looking for- maybe ensuring there’s no disease or latent vampire genes? This is great! Jungkook this is great.”

He winces but mutters, “Yeah. I guess.”

-

Jungkook exaggerates about a lot of things. For example, there was one time during Halloween where he swore that he was so drunk that he was going to die. Instead, he vomited in your Luna backpack two blocks away from your apartment, and then cried because you wouldn’t get him tacos after.

Or there was the time around Christmas where the two of you had edibles at a party, and Jungkook fucking swore he saw Santa Claus and his reindeer. You had a pretty difficult time explaining whilst high out of your mind that it was an airplane, Jungkook. The things that fly in the sky.

And of course, every world-ending time he lost a match or had a bad stream. Those were the days that the sky was falling and he was never going to recover from this financially- and he would send you the same Tiger King meme over and over again.

Those were all great examples of his usual reaction to minor things.

Jungkook was not exaggerating about the application requirements to potentially become a member at Nightshade.

While they did not require any up-front cost to the application, there was cost implied by the amount of blood work you had to get done- and sign a twelve-page legal agreement that you were consenting to provide medical history and knowledge.

Additionally, you were expected to provide STD results, which led you down a rabbit hole of wondering if Nightshade was a sex club- which, was currently in the lead for the most popular theory of what went on behind its closed doors.

And when the formal invitation and approval arrived, there was a very strict list of attire that required you to go beyond the realms of your closet.

Mari of all people was assisting you in the attire part. You generalyl dressed pretty simple. Heels weren’t a necessity when you weren’t working at a fancy museum just yet, and you never had formal events to attend since Jimin dropped out of his fraternity, calling them boring.

“I think the velvet is the way to go,” Mari says appreciatively, tapping her chin. “You have great legs, may as well show them off. And the red doesn’t totally wash you out like the green did.”

You struggle to take the compliment and look at the dress in the mirror. It’s skin tight and leaves little to the imagination, the hemline coming higher up on your thigh than you’re used to. The off the shoulders are a smooth fit, but the neckline dips dangerously to the top of your breasts.

It’s far more daring than anything you’ve worn before, but the entire night is supposed to be daring.

The plan is simple and stupid. Get inside the club, observe what’s going on, and report if there’s anything vampy. According to the nondisclosure and legal agreements you had to sign and get notarized after approval, there’s a probationary period until your inducted as a full-time member. You skipped over the levels of sponsorships, not intending on becoming a steady member of Kim Taehyung’s possible sex club.

A single night of investigative work. That’s what you’ve promised Jungkook, who is still set on going with you. He even booked a night in a hotel room in the next city over so that you don’t have to worry about rushing there and back.

You try not to think about sharing a hotel room with him alone. Because while you’ve done that in the past, it’s different now. You feel different these days.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn to Mari. She’s been more interested in you as a person since presenting the paper. Though she hasn’t admitted to it, you have a sneaking suspicion she was impressed and has decided to give you a chance at being an acquaintance.

Even if she is still giving less than ideal compliments.

“You don’t think the crimson is cliché?” you ask, brushing the soft, velvet material. “I feel vampy in it.”

“You look hot.” She shrugs. “Well, if you don’t get a vampire to go all ‘I vant to suck your blood,’ you’re probably going to get laid. If not by Jungkook, maybe by some masked stranger at the sex club.”

“It’s not a sex club.” She gives you a look and you grimace. “Okay, it might be a sex club. And sex with Jungkook are you drunk? We’re best friends, Mari.”

“Yeah,” she mutters as you walk into the changing room, heart set on the dress. “Best friends who need to fuck.”

“I heard that!”

-

The red neon above the door taunts you as you walk down the sidewalk. On either side of the tinted, glass door is a security member. The one to the right of the door holds his hand out for your invitation. You hand yours over, trying to keep your hand from shaking with nervousness and excitement. Jungkook does the same, standing close behind you as they open the door to a dark hallway. 

Scarlet, crushed velvet makes up the interior of the hallway. The lights above are dimly lit chandeliers, the soft gold glow barely enough to cast light down the entire length of the hall. The line to get into the actual club starts here, hidden away from the eyes of the outside world. You realize it’s to keep member identities hidden. 

Jungkook is still close behind you, his chest almost against your back. You join the line of finely dressed patrons, sending a silent thank you to Mari for her making you choose the red dress and pair it with the sky-high heels. Jungkook sticks out in his leather jacket and ripped black pants and yet somehow when you turn to look at him, he looks right- though you’re not entirely sure about dress code.

Shadows fall over half of his face in the hall. You find yourself staring at him over your shoulder as his dark eyes scan the line, mouth fixed in what you label as his serious expression.

A lock of dark hair falls into his eyes. Instead of looking disheveled, he looks beautiful, an angel of shadow. You want to run your fingers along the recently shaved undercut. His hair was still long, but the sides were cropped short, making his choice of slick-backed hair even better.

Jungkook’s eyes drop down to you and his features smooth out into softness. “What?”

“You look so serious,” you opt to say. It would be weird if you told him you were staring at how beautiful he was. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Of course I did,” he answers, frowning. “Who else is going to protect my girl?” 

The way he says it is so casual. It means nothing to him and everything to you. You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, instead turning your attention to the pictures on the wall. Your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you realize the black-and-white photos are people caught in different throes and moments of pleasure.

You divert your eyes to instead look at the people in line.

It’s a wide variety of people, though one thing is the same: everyone has an invitation, the matte black of their cards absorbing the light in the hall. The couple in front of you is murmuring quietly to themselves. The woman is dressed in a floor-length, emerald dress made from silk, her hair twisted up in an elegant bun. Her earrings catch the light, drawing attention to her slender neck. 

Glancing down at yourself, you don’t feel nearly as well-dressed. The velvet dress clings to you like a second skin, the hemline dangerously short for you. It’s certainly a daring outfit, but with just a simple gold necklace around your neck with your birthstone- a gift from Jungkook- you start to feel out of place. 

As though he senses your uneasiness, Jungkook bends down and murmurs, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just wish I looked a little nicer.”

The line moves forward. You’re three away from the door, heart rate kicking up. You can just barely hear the vibration of the music, though you cannot tell where it’s coming from. 

“What do you mean?” you hear the frown in Jungkook’s voice. You gesture to the woman in front of you and he scoffs. “I think you look absolutely beautiful. Hey- look at me.”

Heart skipping, you turn around and look at him. Jungkook brushes a loose strand of hair back into your French twist, eyes searching. He’s so painfully beautiful that you look at him, unblinking. “You’re always breathtaking,” Jungkook murmurs, smiling softly. “But tonight? You are devastating.” 

Jungkook has no idea the way his words affect you. Suddenly you’ve forgotten about the line and the club. It’s just you and Jungkook in a softly-lit space, and he’s watching you with those eyes and his soft smile. The one reserved only for you.

The moment breaks into pieces when the security guard asks you to move forward. In a daze, you hand him your invitation, your expensive medical results, legal forms, and two forms of ID. He runs the IDs through a scanner and thoroughly looks over the paperwork before asking you to hold out your wrist. He places a delicate, gold bracelet around your wrist with a red gemstone charm. 

“Welcome to Nightshade, Miss L/N.”

You step forward and watch as he repeats the process for Jungkook. Instead of a bracelet, he gives Jungkook a more visible lapel with the same stone. “Welcome to Nightshade, Mr. Jeon. Please ensure that your bracelet and brooch are displayed at all times. If you are warned more than once that it is not visible, you will be escorted out and your probation period will be revoked. You will wear this entry level color until a sponsor elevates your membership.” 

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Okay.”

“Sponsors are the members inside wearing mother of pearl broaches and bracelets, and are the only members who may invite you to a private room tonight. If any full-time member wearing emerald or sapphire invite you to a private room, please report them to any staff member immediately. Enjoy your night.”

The conversation is done and the line is pushing you through the curtained doorway. The stairs lead down down down. You look at Jungkook, unsure what you’ve gotten yourself into. He places his hand on your shoulder and says, “We can leave- that’s totally okay.”

“No,” you protest. “Let’s do this.” 

“Even if it’s a sex club?”

You shoot him a look as you begin a careful descent down the stairs. The further you go, the more you can feel the music humming through the ground to your ribcage. “Even if it’s a sex club.”

When another security guard opens the door to the main club, you think that maybe you’re not far off your guess. Music pulses from the middle of the dance floor where bodies twist in a writhing mass. There’s a DJ booth situated above the crowd on a catwalk, lights coalescing on the dance floor in colors you’ve never seen. 

Jungkook is attached to you as you push into the club. The air is cooler than you anticipated, a shiver working up your spine. The bar is near the door, long and carved from dark marble. Red lights are fixed beneath the bar counter, making it look as though the bartenders are gliding through a sea of red. 

A set of stairs leads upstairs to a landing where you can see private booths roped off with velvet markers. A security member stands at the foot of the stairs, letting people pass through after they display their jewelry. Some booths are curtained off while others have people lounging openly, watching the people below. 

You have no idea where to start. Jungkook nudges you on your lower back, starling you. He gives you an encouraging grin and nods toward the bar. “Let’s get drinks.”

With a nod, you let Jungkook lead the way. You’re too nervous to feel anything besides light panic when he wraps his fingers around yours, tugging you along. Your other hand clutches his elbow, securing yourself to his side as you move through the crowd. No one shoves and steps on you. Everyone is polite, parting as you navigate toward the bar. 

You’re almost dizzy with the dark space and flashing lights when a bartender appears in front of you immediately. He’s beautiful, blond hair slick back and uncanny amber eyes flicking between you two, smiling as he looks at the stones on your jewelry and shouts over the music, “Welcome first timers. You drink for free tonight, but please ensure you drink responsibly. What can I get you?” 

“An old fashioned for me,” Jungkook answers loudly. He pulls you in closer, placing you next to him with his hand appropriately placed on your back. “A vodka soda for her, please.” 

The bartender flashes a smile. “Coming right up, pretties.” 

Jungkook leans a single elbow on the bar and gazes out at the crowd. Colors splash across his golden skin, turning him red then blue then green. The music is loud, filled with bass and following a techno sound. You nod your head, looking around those at the bar. 

You don’t really know what to look for other than the cliche: bite marks on necks, hickies that look suspicious, patrons with fangs. There’s plenty of mirrors behind the bar, reflecting the bottles and club-goers back to you. Everyone appears in the mirror- no weird missing reflection. 

Everyone looks ordinary, for the most part. There are a few men and women who look so beautiful it’s painful to look at, but there’s nothing about them that screams vampire. There’s no pale, smooth skin or burning red eyes. There’s nothing that seems… supernatural at all. 

The bartender appears again with your drinks. Jungkook hands over money to tip him, but the bartender waves it off. “No tipping here. We’re paid handsomely. Enjoy your evening. My name is Emil if you need anything.” 

Emil flashes a smile. There are no fangs, but there is something about the way he glances between the two of you that sends a cool tingle down your spine. He moves away quickly, taking another order. You stare at him a second longer before you take the cold glass from the paper coaster. 

“Something about him seems… off,” you mention to Jungkook. 

Jungkook nods. “He’s very perfect looking.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Jungkook shrugs. “This feels surprisingly ordinary.”

“Come on,” Jungkook murmurs, sipping his drink and gesturing to the edge of the dancefloor. A dark alcove with a soft, blue neon sign that said private glowed next to where he was pointing. “We can observe near there.” 

It feels as if the dark hall leading to private rooms goes on forever. You glance down at it, hypnotized by the way the space seems void of light and life. You and Jungkook sip your drinks, swaying to the music lightly. You're surprised at how strong the drink is, feeling light-headed by the time you’re halfway done. 

A woman comes up and asks Jungkook to dance, glancing at you from the side of her eyes. He politely declines and she pouts before she glances at you and slinks away again. It’s hard not to smile at Jungkook as he turns his focus away from her immediately, dark eyes still searching the crowd. 

Instead of observing for your own project, you keep watching him instead. Another woman comes up to spark conversation with him- she includes you this time, welcoming you to your first night there. She asks if you need any help and you fight the urge to ask her what it’s all about, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself. 

The woman wears a green jewel- so she is some sort of level higher than you. Perhaps she has a sponsor. She eventually asks Jungkook to join her for a drink and he politely declines again. She has the same reaction as the first, pouting lightly as she vanishes.

You can’t help but get a sick feeling in your stomach. You must be making a face, because Jungkook asks if you’re okay. “Let’s get a drink,” you respond. “I think I’m still nervous.”

And you are. But the inky feeling doesn’t go away when Jungkook is propositioned at the bar again- this time by a man. He’s beautiful with dark red hair and stunning green eyes. He wears a sapphire, glittering on an extravagant broach on the lapel of his suit. 

“You’re an exquisite pair,” the man calls, leaning further on the bar to address you. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen- I could just eat you up.” 

Jungkook makes a face. The man notices and he smiles- his smile reminds you of the bartender and you prickle again, straightening. “Ah, you don’t share. What a shame. I love the dynamic you two have- the shadow to her light, the darkness to her innocence. Well, I am here most weekends if you ever change your mind and want to share.” He hands Jungkook a card. “Have a wonderful night.”

You don’t know if it’s the base or your heartbeat pounding anymore. The way the man implied Jungkook doesn’t share- share what? You? 

In a way, you are his to share. He has no idea how much you are his. The thought of him not knowing as he sips his drink makes you toss yours back. He raises his eyebrows as you order another one, making it a double. 

Jungkook came all the way here with you because he’s your friend. Your best friend. Because he never lets you suffer through things alone. And instead of doing what you’re supposed to for your project, you’re being painfully awkward and letting Jungkook’s many suitors make you jealous. 

Finishing your drink with a half-gag and a spinning head, you pull his hand. “Let’s dance.”

“We already did that.”

“No. Let’s dance.”

Jungkook doesn’t ask what you mean. He follows your lead, throwing back the whisky with a sour face. You drag him onto the dance floor. A buzz has settled into your veins and you pressed yourself between people, pulling Jungkook behind you. You’re no stranger to dancing with him, but the music is in your bloodstream, humming as you become alive.

You sway your hips, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as you let rhythm and instinct guide you. Jungkook is quick to follow. He molds himself against you, hands tracing your hips to settle on your waist. Electricity shoots through you and you almost stumble. His fingers are firm, gripping you and pressing you to him so that you can feel his chest against your back.

This is different. You don’t know why, but it is. You feel the artful movement of his hips, feel Jungkook’s break on the back of your neck and shoulder, the way his fingers pull at you, greedy. Your breath shudders out for you. You can smell his cologne- floral and soft on his skin. You don’t know if it’s the cocktails or Jungkook against you, but you’re drunk and dizzy with elation.

Pulling at your hips, Jungkook turns you around. You look up at him with half-lidded eyes. He guides your hands to loop around his neck and settles his own hands dangerously low. Jungkook has never had his hands on the top of your ass before, but they are now. His forehead is almost pressed against yours as he takes the lead, guiding your hips with his. 

Your thighs are burning but you don’t care. The project has long been forgotten as his breath turns into yours. You fixate on his eyes, lips slowly curling into a smile. He grins back at you, pulling you closer, slotting a leg between your thighs and oh. 

That is different. Jungkook’s jeans rub against your clothed core and you let out a sound that sounds like a moan. You snap your mouth shut, flushing from more than the heat on the dance floor. Jungkook’s grip on you tightens a fraction as he looks at you. And you know without a doubt that he heard it. That he knows the effect he has on you.

“What was that, baby?”

The name makes you flush. He’s never called you that before. Suddenly he seems closer than he was and the urge to close the distance between your mouths is clawing at you. You twist your fingers in his shirt, ready to crush your lips to his in a sudden bout of courage- a presence appears in your peripheral, something ominous and demanding, making you look.

Your mouth almost falls open- or maybe it does. Standing beside you is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen, and you can’t help but fixate on the man in front of you. 

It finally dawns on you that this is what you picture when you hear about vampires. The man is tall with broad shoulders, his gold skin almost glowing beneath the dark collar of a button-up shirt. His hair is ebony, wavy strands falling into a pair of amber eyes that burn so brightly you feel as though you’ll disintegrate on the spot.

Looking at him scrambles your brain. Something in his gaze is pulling pulling pulling. You stare and stare. Something is screaming at you to look away but you’re fixated, the world falling away piece by piece until there is nothing but muted sound of the music and a faded canvas of bodies behind the man in front of you.

He smiles. You know that smile. It’s got the same edge to the bartender, the same sharpness as the man who gave Jungkook his card.

Jungkook. 

You blind and the spell fades a little as you turn to look at Jungkook. His hands have moved from your waist to over your shoulders, crossing in front of you and hugging you to him. He’s staring at the man, enchanted for a moment. Then he blinks and he’s frowning, muscles coiling against you. 

“I’m Taehyung,” the man introduces, tawny eyes flicking between the two of you. You can’t help but think he has the gaze of a tiger, hungry and feral. “Aren’t you two the most heavenly thing I’ve seen?”

Taehyung.

You realize it’s Kim Taehyung standing in front of you. The subject of your project and oh my god if you didn’t believe in your theory before, you do now. Kim Taehyung looks the epitome of supernatural beauty and graze, eyes flickering back to you as his rose red lips twitch in a smile. 

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” Taehyung purrs to you. People have made room for him to stand unbothered, but their eyes shift to him like a magnet.

“You’re wearing diamond,” Jungkook notes, eyes fixated on the jewel settled in the hollow of Taehyung’s throat and the single glittering earring. Taehyung smiles at Jungkook, pleased. “You’ve got a keen eye. I am, in fact, wearing diamonds. I’m the only member you’ll find here who does, though. Unless Yoongi is around, of course.” 

The name Yoongi sounds vaguely familiar, but you can’t recall where you’ve heard of it. Taehyung doesn’t give you a chance to ask, gesturing toward the dark alcove where the private rooms are. Your heart thunders.

“Join me,” he says lightly. Something in his voice tells you it’s not a request, it's an order. His eyes drift to Jungkook, whose grip has tightened over you. “I play nice.”

“The bouncer said only people with mother of pearl are allowed to invite us to private rooms.”

“Good girl, you listened.” Taehyung seems genuinely pleased by this, but you squirm at the way his voice croons. “As your friend pointed out, I’m wearing diamonds. The rules don’t apply to me,” he winks. 

Though Jungkook lets go of his protective hug, he doesn’t let go of your hand. You cling to him a little unbalanced and drunk. He keeps a firm grip on you, looking down to make sure you’re okay. At least, you think that’s why he’s looking at you and you nod, following Taehyung who has appeared on the other side of the dancefloor. 

Weird. You don’t remember seeing him walk there. 

A shiver crawls up your spine as Taehyung steps into the pitch black of the hall. You pass through the threshold- your ears pop, making you wince. You open your mouth, stretching your jaw to adjust the pressure once again. 

The hall isn’t nearly as dark as you thought it was. The same velvet material lines the walls as the hall for the queue. There are no pictures, but metal sconces lighting the way with dull, gold light. Black doors with small plaques on them are lined on either side of you, varying from unoccupied to occupied. 

Taehyung moves smoothly through the hall, passing all of the doors. You can hear nothing from any of the doors or behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, the hallway is dark as ever and no sound from the club reaches you. 

“You won’t find what you’re looking for the way we came, Y/N.”

Your heart freezes when he says your name. You didn’t tell him your name. You turn to look at Taehyung. He’s standing at the end of the hallway in front of a large, wooden door. There is nothing that labels the status of the door’s occupants. You tighten your grip on Jungkook’s hand, suddenly hating yourself for coming here. To hell with your project, to hell with your theory. This was a terrible idea.

“Follow me,” Taehyung calls. He opens the door, walking into a dimly lit room. 

You glance at Jungkook. His gaze is darker than you remember and his face is taught. “You’re safe with me,” Jungkook murmurs. “He’s not going to hurt you. Plus, this seems a bit theatric.”

“He knows my name.”

“You had to provide them a name and a blood test,” Jungkook points out. “I’m sure he would know your social security number, if you asked.”

The thought is unsettling, but Jungkook’s assurance for your safety warms you. It’s not just the liquor you consumed heating you. It’s the way he takes the lead, gently pulling you down the hall to the room where Taehyung vanished. It’s the way he ducks his head in first before nodding that it’s okay for you to enter. 

It’s the way he called you baby right before Taehyung had interrupted whatever was happening on the dancefloor. 

A lounge is what waits beyond the door for you. You arch your brow at how ornate and intimate the setting is. The floor is dark wood to match the small bar built in the back of the room. It smells like cigar smoke and spice. A record player in the corner plays soft jazz, setting the mood to match the soft chaise lounges, crackling fireplace and glittering sconces. 

It looks like something out of an old 20s crawl space during prohibition. You can’t help but let go of Jungkook’s hand and wander over to a shelf with books and knick-knacks, hands hovering over signed cards from Louis Armstrong and a stunning portrait of Ella Fitzgerald with a personal message to Taehyung.

You turn to look at him. He’s leaning on the bar with a smirk, sipping on what appears to be whisky neat. 

Your heart begins to thunder as you trail away from the mementos of a time that Taehyung seems to be fond of. As though he was there. As though he is intimately familiar with it. Jungkook only has eyes for you as you near him, offering his hand silently. You take it on instinct, though you were never really hand holders before. 

“I’m a bit nostalgic,” Taehyung announces with a lofty sigh. He walks around behind the bar and tosses a mixing cup in the air before catching it. He starts to pull bottles from the shelves, glancing up at you with a distinct gleam in his eye. “I don’t keep much of my prized possessions here, but it does help me feel at home.”

“And where is home for you?” Your surprised you ask the question, voice far more confident than you feel.

Taehyung appears delighted as he makes a drink and gestures to Jungkook. “You were drinking an old fashioned, right? Sorry I didn’t use the smoker, I have a feeling you won’t really care.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. Taehyung arches a brow and produces another drink. “Vodka soda,” he calls to you, mouth lifting in a crooked grin. “I insist. Drink.”

There is no fighting his words. You find yourself moving toward the bar without remembering to make the decision. Jungkook is in tow, walking slower than you, as though he’s not as confident with his decision to approach.

The glass cools off your fingers as you lift it from the varnished top, hesitating while Taehyung looks at you through his bangs. You’re struck again by how intense his gaze is. He smiles slowly and something sparks inside of you- not the same way it does for Jungkook, but at a sudden wrongness.

You think it might be instinct, but you can’t put the drink down. You’re either unwilling or unable- you don’t know which.

Taehyung lifts his own drink and murmurs, “Salude,” before sipping his, amber eyes bouncing between you and Jungkook.

Both of you sip the drink- except you don’t just sip. You take a few gulps and set it back down, surprised at how much better his alcohol tastes than his bar.

“Why don’t you sit?” Taehyung gestures to the chase lounges. “You have questions, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

He pouts as he rounds the corner of the bar, walking over to you. Jungkook steps in front of you and Taehyung gives him a single annoyed glance. That single glance is enough to make you petrified.

In a single flash of emotion, you see something else in Taehyung’s face. Something cold and ancient and absolutely terrifying. You’re locked into place as you blink at him, but he’s smiling as he pats Jungkook on the shoulder and moving to a chair of his own, plopping down.

“I admire how protective you are of your girl, Jungkook. It’s admirable, really.” Taehyung sips his drinks as you and Jungkook stand frozen at the bar. A vein throbs in Jungkook’s neck as he stares at Taehyung, working his jaw. “However, if I wanted her, you couldn’t stop me. Now sit.”

Again, the decision to sit down is not your own.

Jungkook almost sits you on top of him. You’re sitting so close that your thigh almost overlaps his, a hand going tightly around your waist to tether you to him. You haven’t forgotten the low sound of his voice when he called you baby and you certainly haven’t forgotten the way his thigh felt between your legs. 

You can barely concentrate on your fear with Jungkook’s fingers on your waist, burning through the fabric of your shirt like an exposed flame. You shiver. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, his focus entirely on Taehyung. 

“You have questions, do you not?” Taehyung asks, kicking his feet up on the edge of his chair. He looks at you specifically, eyes dancing behind the sparkling rim of his glass. “I’m intrigued.” 

“You know us.”

“That’s not a question. And if it was, you’re wasting the time I’ve carved out for you.”

You fidget next to Jungkook, plucking at the rising hemline of your dress. You stare at Taehyung, watching as his eyes dip to your exposed thigh. You fight the urge to cover yourself- Jungkook splays a hand over your thigh, covering most of it. You want to sigh in relief and thank him, but instead your focus goes back to Taehyung. 

“Why did you carve out time to let me ask questions?” You ask. “You obviously know who I am and my intention of coming here. I’m not sure how you managed, but you did.”

“Good girl, asking better questions already. Let’s just say I was intrigued. Let’s just say when Seokjin gave me the tip that someone was looking into me, I did my homework.”

You grit your teeth. Jimin had asked Seokjin to get you an in- he wasn’t supposed to tell him what you were doing it for. You struggled with your momentary annoyance, realizing the danger that you were now in. You had come to Nightshade with the intention of breaking the NDA you signed and risking Taehyung’s clientele and business. 

That wasn’t nothing. And now he was watching you carefully as you struggled to come up with an answer. 

“Don’t be too hard on Jimin,” Taehyung purrs. “He didn’t tell Seokjin that you were doing research on vampires. Seokjin has… a sixth sense, if you will. He pulled the information from Jimin’s mind, just sitting there for the taking.” Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head to the side. “Tell me about your research.”

Again, the urge to tell him doesn’t come from yourself. It comes from somewhere else, a strong sense of powerlessness along with it. 

So you tell him about your research. Every detail, starting with what turned you onto the subject and where you started. Jungkook’s pressure on your thigh increases as you speak, his eyes never leaving Taehyung for a moment. He’s so still that you almost forget he is there as you ramble, discussing Taehyung’s family tree and the journal entries that pointed you in the direction of what you believe is a third strain of vampirism. 

Taehyung is a good listener- or at least, he mimes listening well. He nods in all of the right places and hums when appropriate, even complimenting you throughout your explanation, which is the most unsettling. You hate how sincere and curious he seems. It’s almost as though he is fascinated at watching a child figure something out.

When you finish, Taehyung sits back, arm resting along the length of the couch. You notice the rings on his fingers. They look old. You can barely make out a signet ring and something that looks like a family crest.

Taehyung catches you looking and grins, flashing his hand at you. “You really are the cleverest little thing, aren’t you? You managed to put together a mostly accurate theory about strains of vampirism and you must realize by now what parts of your theories are correct.”

You lick your lips. Your mouth feels dry as you nod. “You must have arrived in New Orleans like the document suggests. You have…” you gesture around. “A lot of influence from that period and a love for the culture and music. You pushed out the vampires there.” 

Taehyung hums, setting his chin in his palm. “I did push them out. I don’t have any love for the strigoi. What you believe are strains aren’t strains at all- they’re breeds. But you had the right idea- congratulations.” 

“So… you’re a vampire?” you ask softly. Any excitement you have is gone. Taehyung looks lethal and you realize that if he doesn’t intend to let you walk out, there is nothing you can do.

You’re fucked. 

“For lack of a better term. Technically a jiangshi. I can walk in the sunlight, though it is a little irritating. I drink blood to survive. I don’t age. And I have a certain influence over people.”

“Compulsion,” Jungkook offers.

You're surprised he speaks. He’s been painfully silent the entire time. Taehyung looks just as surprised, a boxy smile spreading across his face. “Oh? You know a thing or two about it?”

Jungkook grimaces and gestures to you half-heartedly. “She likes watching vampire diaries.”

You feel heat flush your face and push onwards, “That’s why when you told us to drink, we couldn’t resist. Or when you told us to sit.” 

“That’s true. I don’t like forcing people to do things, but the two of you are incredibly stubborn. But come on, darling. Please ask me something interesting.”

“Why? You’re not going to let me report what I find here.”

“No, but consider that I’m having fun and I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about what I am for a very long time. Though this club was established for the vampires that are around to feed in privacy, most of the humans who consent to being here for long periods of time come back because of the euphoria and high they get from being fed on. While they’re somewhat aware of what’s happening, we compel them to forget most details.”

“That seems incredibly non-consensual.”

“Not at all- they’ve signed plenty of papers consenting to what happens here. We only make them for get the supernatural part- many of them know they’re sharing blood- but the exchange is remembered often in a sexual nature. The people who frequent here are one-hundred percent here of their own desire and volition.” 

“And you want to answer the questions I have because it’s entertaining to you. Not because of any desire to let me finish my project.”

His grin was feline. “That would be correct.”

You glare. “I have no more questions.” 

For a moment, Taehyung just stares at you, eyes sharp. The next second, he’s laughing boisterously, the sound filling the room. His hand goes to his abdomen, pressing against his crisp shirt as he continues to laugh. You stiffen beside Jungkook and dig your nails into the chaise, knowing that he’s laughing at you and not with you.

Temper flaring, you stand abruptly, Jungkook’s hand falling from your leg. The rejection from your favorite museums is still burning in your mind. You feel the same hot embarrassment that drove you to tears with Jungkook in your kitchen. 

Taehyung's voice is like thunder when he says, “Sit.” 

You immediately follow, gnashing your teeth as you try to fight his stupid compulsion. “Ask me the questions you had before coming here.” 

Your mouth works over the words. There is an ache in your jaw as you clench your teeth together, feeling a strain working its way up your throat. Taehyung smirks and murmurs, “You’ll kill yourself fighting compulsion. Please don’t make me use my leer.”

Though you have no idea what his leer is, you let out a strangled breath. “Where did vampires originate from?”

“Egypt. The daughter of the goddess Sekhmet was sent to our plane to slaughter the Egyptians for their constant disobedience and disrespect of Ra. She produced offspring while she ravaged Ancient Egypt. Sekhmet was imprisoned in the city of the dead- I believe your friend Namjoon is acutely familiar with her.” 

That takes you by surprise. What would… you gasp lightly. Namjoon had come home after a harrowing research trip in Egypt. He had promptly quit his job at the school and joined the private acquisition company that specialized in ancient artifacts and history. 

“Is Namjoon a vampire?” you blurt, unable to help the question.

“No. He got lucky that his little tomb raider friend was versed beyond normal means in the supernatural. I believe you’re familiar with her branch of the Illuminati’s recovery business.” 

“T-the acquisition place Namjoon works at is a part of the Illuminati?”

“We’re going off track,” Taehyung sighs breezily. “Please focus and go back to asking questions for your paper.” 

“You mean questions about you?” You scoff. “You’re painfully cliche.”

Jungkook brushes his fingers on your arm in warning and murmurs, “I got it.”

You’re unsure what he means but he sits forward, glare on his face. “How many breeds of vampires are there and what- in a summary, please- is the difference between them?”

“Oh?” Taehyung turns his attention to Jungkook. “You’re not a history major.”

“Her research is important to me and I know it inside and out. Answer the questions.”

“I come from an ancient line that can stretch our heritage back to pre-dynastic China. The Mongol Empire drove my kind throughout regions of Asia. I was born in what is now considered South Korea. The differences between vampiric creatures are typically abilities and background, nothing more. The family trees you’ve mentioned in your research are not family trees by blood, but by turning. We share names as a part of our heritage and power.” 

“What do you mean, abilities?” 

“Just like different snakes have different types of venom and skin, vampires have different attributes. I’m not dead, though that might be hard to believe. Immortality and being alive are not mutually exclusive.”

“How does one make vampires?”

“The surest way is by consuming the blood of one. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t need to die to turn. Vampire blood contains a virus-like component that your blood cells will attack once it enters the stream. The moment your blood cells attack the vampire-cells, they’re infected and replaced with the same genetic material that makes up vampiric plasma.” 

“I said simple,” Jungkook mutters. “So it’s a virus?”

“It works like a virus and it can spread through blood contamination, but it is a crude way to identify the gene. Think of it as genetic material.” 

“So the plague?” You ask.

“Not the cause of vampires, but rather- people shared blood hoping that it would give immortality and healing abilities. Hence the massive spread of disease. The vampires you’ve identified in the Dracul bloodline are associated with what you’ve called porphyria- the disease gave them more mobility to openly interact with people during the plague.” 

“Another breed?” 

“Yes, the Upir,” he sighs. “Similar to strigoi. They come from the same region and have the same sensitivity in sunlight. Their blood has a thermal reaction to UV rays, so while they won’t burst into flames, they do get a mean sunburn faster than most people. They also tend to have blood lust far more than I’ve experienced.”

“What’s roughly the size of the population of vampires?” 

For the first time that night, Taehyung shows genuine emotion. It’s brief, but you recognize pain flashing across his eyes, the twitch of his mouth toward a frown and the way his nose flares. You know the answer before he says it. 

“Not many. At our height, there were probably around ten different breeds. Now? There’s two. Jiangshi and the strigoi.” 

“Why?”

Taehyung gestured to the room around them. “There are almost no places in the world like this. What you see here is years of work and methodical planning to come up with a way for my people to feed safely. There is too much science and technology in the world for us to thrive without getting caught. And like I say- vampires aren’t born. They’re made.”

“Getting caught?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowing. “Are there like- hunters or something?”

Taehyung’s smile is strained. “There are those who know we exist, and who would prefer for us not to exist.” He claps his hands together, rubbing his palms together softly. You realize that the fireplace is dying and your glass has long been finished. “This has been nice. Thank you both for indulging in some discussion, it’s been so nice to talk freely with such curious minds. Perhaps we can do it again sometime.”

“Wait?” You ask, shooting to your feet. “You’re just letting us go?”

“Of course. I’ve collected my insurance. You’re not going to go running your mouth once your boyfriend turns.”

It’s not Taehyung calling Jungkook your boyfriend that makes your heart catch. In fact, you hardly gesture that. It’s the self-satisfied smirk on Taehyung’s rose-red lips as he stands languidly, lifting his glass filled with amber liquid toward Jungkook before he downs it, strolling to the bar.

Jungkook is fixed in his spot, face sheet-white and eyes round as he stares at Taehyung. His knuckles are white as he holds his glass. His hands are shaking- there’s nothing left in the glass, the old fashioned drained dry.

Slowly, Jungkook’s eyes dip down to the glass before they drag back up to look at you. You’re frozen in mute horror, mouth parting lightly as Taehyung’s words settled into place, locking onto your shoulders and pressing with more weight than you’ve ever felt.

“You’re lying,” you growl, spinning to face Taehyung. You can feel the tremor in your voice and your hands.

You never expected Taehyung to answer your questions so succinctly without something being in it for you. You wouldn’t have asked the questions at all, had he not compelled you to do so.

There’s no way someone as carefully planned as Taehyung turned Jungkook on a whim. Your brain begins firing synapses, putting together reasons that Taehyung wouldn’t turn Jungkook. His entire club is built on the foundation of secrecy and he said it himself- years of planning.

So why turn Jungkook?

Taehyung leans on his elbows against the bar lazily, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “I’m not.”

“What do you get out of turning him?” You demanded. “There’s nothing. You wouldn’t-“

“I get your vow of secrecy for starters. I won’t help him during his transition if you run your mouth. Additionally, you seem to be a prime candidate for the open position your friend Namjoon has created at the Illuminati.”

“You want access.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe I do.”

“You’re a vampire,” you spit between your teeth. “Compel them.”

“They know all about me, I’m afraid. Despite Yoongi’s influence with them, the Iluminati don’t like me.” His smile is predatory. “They’re not particularly fond of my involvement in stealing one of their artifacts.”

Taehyung gestures to Jungkook and says, “I will happily protect the little fledging provided your word you talk to no one about this place and that you provide research when I call on you. Yoongi is not nearly as dedicated to my projects as I need him to be and his loyalty cannot be bought. Yours can.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook murmurs.

You’re not thinking. Nothing makes sense and nothing matters. You see red on the edge of your vision and you hardly register your arm moving as you throw your glass at Taehyung. It surprises the vampire, based on his wide eyes. But he moves quickly, a blur of movement as the glass shatters against bottles behind the bar.

A horrible scream rips out of you, obscenities new and old as you leap over the coffee table with more agility than you expect. Taehyung grins wider as you behind to throw whatever you can at him, screaming at him to undo what he’s done.

What he’s done to Jungkook. Not you.

Nothing has been done to you for your prying. For your need to come here. For dragging Jungkook along.

Something horrible and terrifying is working its way through you and you feel the tears in your eyes as your rage peters out with a choke.

Guilt crashes on you so succinctly that you collapse on the chair, face in your hands as your tears spill over, hot on your palms and salty on your lips. “Fuck,” you whisper. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Taehyung announces, vanishing from the room.

You lift your head to see Jungkook is still standing in his spot. “Jungkook,” you plead, though you don’t know what you’re pleading for exactly. “This is my fault. I will find a way to fix this, Jungkook I am so sorry. Fuck this is all my fault, please, I-“

“Y/n.”

“I am so fucking stupid. I should have never brought us here. You were right, this wasn’t worth being right and I am a selfish, prideful idiot who-“

“Y/N,” he says your name again, softly but with purpose. You look at him through tear-stained eyes. “Let’s just go home.”

“I…”

Jungkook softens. “We don’t even know if he’s telling the truth, Indy. I don’t feel any different. The drink didn’t taste weird. Come on.” He holds out a hand. You drift to him, fingers yearning for his as you stretch your hand and lace your fingers with his. He gives you a squeeze and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Everything is going to be okay.”

-

Nothing is okay. A few days ago, you woke up to an empty hotel room in a city an hour away from home. You can’t remember falling asleep, spending the entire night stressing and looking for any signs of vampirism as the night stretched on, but Jungkook was fine. He was normal- albeit, nervous and tired.

Then the morning came. You had launched out of your bed to… nothing. Jungkook was nowhere to be found. His things were in his room, but his cell was gone and his clothes from the night before were folded on the dresser. You even went as far as to extending your stay another night, spending every moment calling and texting him.

That night, you had gone back to the club. Tear-stained and with bloodshot eyes, you marched up to the nondescript building, only to be turned away at the door. The bouncer wouldn’t answer your questions. Didn’t even blink when you gave him Taehyung’s name and threatened to go to the police.

He had simply said, “You should go to the police if you think your friend is missing. Have a good night.”

Every phone call, text and voicemail went unanswered into the late night. You don’t remember crying more than you had that entire day, worried to the point of making yourself physically ill, only finding comfort in the cool tile floor beneath your bruised knees and the cold touch of the toilet as you sagged against it.

You had to return home eventually. So you did. Dodging the text messages of your friends. Making excuses.

We found nothing you assured them with unsteady hands, sniffling in the dark of your room. We did get a little sick, though. Jungkook has a fever.

No we don’t need anything.

I’m just going to take that part out of my research.

No you can’t come over.

Yes you can send me the notes for class.

Sitting in the dark of your living room, the silence presses in. You look at your text thread with Jungkook. Everything is burned into your mind with startling permanence.

The internet is no longer comforting. You scour the internet and pour yourself over every article you can find. Your search history looks like you should check yourself into a mental ward. Signs of vampirism. How do you know if you’re a vampire? Cures to vampirism.

You revisit your research and begin a new project. You comb through the genetic findings and family trees, wondering if you missed something. Taehyung had said that vampirism was like a virus- plenty of viruses could be cured. So why not vampirism?

­Takeout cartons are piling on your counter and the sink smells something awful. You don’t take the time to clean- you have a single mission. Something stops you from calling the police- you know they won’t believe you and Taehyung’s threat… it holds sway over you.

Your searches and notes are littered- no, consumed with ways to kill a vampire.

It’s the thought of sticking a stake through Kim Taehyung that has you sitting in the living room in the dark, eyes burning. You scroll through the texts- you’ve sent over 100. Each one goes unanswered, but they’re delivered. Which counts for something, you think. It means Jungkook’s phone is on and even though he isn’t answering… he’s alive.

The thought that perhaps it’s about you occurs. You realize that maybe… maybe Jungkook doesn’t want to talk to you. Maybe this is real, and Taehyung did something horrible to him by turning him into a creature of legend and Jungkook rightfully blames you.

It’s fair. It’s what’s right.

You swallow past the lump in your throat but the tears break free anyway. You’re tired of crying but you can’t seem to find a way to stop. Jungkook is gone and you miss him.

The hole his lack of presence creates is pronounced and dangerous. For the last few years, the thought of you and Jungkook not being you and Jungkook had never occurred to you. You did everything together and nothing else… nothing else was like what you have.

What you had.

There are no updates on Jungkook’s streams. There are comments on social media and his YouTube page asking where he’s gone and why he isn’t streaming. You scour through them, hoping that maybe he’s logged in to look at comments or to tell people he’s taking a break.

But there’s nothing.

And it’s like Jungkook doesn’t exist anymore.

-

Something in your kitchen wakes you up. You’ve taken to not sleeping in your room- not a meaningful decision, but one driven by falling asleep on the couch crying or researching. Nights driven watching Jungkook’s favorite shows while staring at your phone.

Rubbing your eyes, you look around the room, eyes darting to the kitchen. At first, nothing looks different. The room is pitch black, your laptop dead with the cord unplugged. Someone in the parking lot drives by, lights flashing in your first-floor unit and-

A figure is standing in your kitchen. Your heart pitches to your stomach so violently that you feel like you might launch into a cardiac episode. A scream works its way up your throat and lodges itself there, unable to be set free.

You’ve never felt terror like this in your life.

And then the light over your stove flicks on, revealing Jungkook standing in your kitchen.

Your breath gets stuck for a new reason entirely. His hair is damp and hanging in his face. He’s in a giant t-shirt and sweats, his normal casual wear. Your heart begins pounding in your chest as you jump to your feet, ready to launch yourself at him.

“Please stay there,” he almost whispers. You stop moving. “I… just stay there.”

“Jungkook.” His name is soft and teary in your mouth. “Are you okay? Please tell me what you need.”

“Just need you to stay there I can… smell you.”

You inhale sharply and nod. You open and close your mouth. There are so many questions you want to ask but you shove them to the side. You just want to hug him and to ask what he needs you to do. You don’t care where he has been, you just want to know that he’s okay and help him. To fix whatever is broken.

To say sorry.

“Tell me what to do,” you murmur. “Tell me how to make this right.”

“I don’t know, but please don’t blame yourself.”

You break. You feel the seams rip loose as you collapse in on yourself and begin to weep in earnest. You just want to go back to the way things were. Before you ruined it. Before whatever… whatever was happening now.

It’s not fair that you’re crying. You’re not the one who has gone through hell and back- well you have, but it feels selfish. Why are you the one crying when Jungkook- perhaps a vampire- is standing in your kitchen looking lost. More lost than he’s ever looked.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, violently wiping your face. “It’s selfish of me to cry. I have no right to be crying.”

“Indy, it’s okay to cry.”

You shake your head. “I did this, Jungkook.” You bite your lip and nod as you think about it. “I wanted so badly to be right, to make myself feel important. I was… I was too obsessed with trying to prove something new to myself, as if it would make me feel better about the museum rejections.”

He drifts forward, soundless. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There is when it results in whatever has happened here. I missed you in a way I don’t know how to describe. I don’t know- I don’t know what happened to you but it’s my fault and I’m sorry.”

“I voluntarily went with you,” Jungkook says firmly. “In fact, the hotel room was in my name.”

“But you went because of me, because you supported me and I…” You shrug. “I wasn’t punished for my vanity and you’re… I don’t even know.”

On instinct, you stand up and step toward him. You can’t help but seek his comfort and to comfort him in return. What you don’t expect is the snarl that ripples through him, vibrating every dish in your cabinet.

“Don’t come near me,” he hisses, eyes narrowed.

You startle, gasping and skittering backward as your hand flies to your mouth to hide the sound coming out of you. Jungkook’s eyes flash silver in the dark, like a predator whose eyes have been exposed to light.

A scream threatens to break through and a gross terror slides into your mind unbidden- is Jungkook there to kill you for what you’ve done?

It is both ridiculous and firm in your mind, taking root as you step back unsteadily.

“No,” Jungkook whispers, voice something like pleading. “Please don’t do that. Please don’t… please.”

You’re unsure what he’s asking, but you can see him better with the kitchen light on and he looks… defeated. His bottom lip wobbles and his eyes are round- no longer narrowed the way you saw them a moment before. No dangerous flash. Just brown, and just… Jungkook.

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head because you don’t know how to form words. You don’t want him to apologize, but you don’t know how to shape the words through your fear. “I’m sorry that I came here, but I wanted to see you. I didn’t know you would… smell so good and I… I scared you. Taehyung told me not to come here- told me it might be too tempting but I did anyways.”

“You don’t understand,” he continues, unbidden. “You fell asleep in the hotel room that night and something happened to me. You always smell good but you smelled even better and then I could hear the soft pulse in your neck… your heart beat. It sang every song I ever wanted to hear and there was a brief moment where I… where I thought it wouldn’t be so bad, if I just tasted you.”

Jungkook looks at the floor, eyebrows pinched and fingers pulling at the hem of his shirt, hands unable to keep still. “It was the worst moment of my life,” he whispers. “For a split second, I thought- what would stop me from leaning down and taking what I wanted? What I’ve always wanted? So I left. I had to leave. I found Taehyung and he kept his word.”

“He’s helping you?”

“Yeah. He’s not… terrible, despite what he’s done to me. I don’t like him, but he’s helping. Didn’t want me to see you, though. Thought I might…”

He trails off. You know what he was going to say. Taehyung thought that Jungkook might kill you. Because he now drinks blood for a living, and because you smell nice.

Jungkook takes a step forward and you take one back. He looks at you and lets out something that sounds like a whine, a soft sound that is so desperate you almost run to him and throw yourself into his arms, danger be damned. You want to.

But keep keeps you rooted as a million emotions flit across his face.

Jungkook has always been intense when he’s upset, but this is like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He’s standing in the dark of your kitchen, but his eyes almost glow. Headlights in the parking lot flash by your window briefly again, lighting his eyes up like white beacons of fire. You take a step back and he makes a noise in the back of his throat, needy like a whimper.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” Jungkook whispers. 

Of course you’re afraid. You haven’t seen him in days and he manifested in your kitchen like a shadow. He looks like your best friend and he sounds like your best friend, but he’s altogether different. There’s an edge to him as he soundlessly moves across the kitchen, tentative steps to you. He makes no sound, unusual for him. 

But it's Jungkook. And the soft pleading in his dark eyes that you can just register in the dim light and the way he wavers at the threshold of the kitchen, watching and waiting for your consent… it makes you crack. 

“I’m not,” you whisper.

“You are.” You hear the tremor in his voice. “I can smell it on you- just like I can smell everything else. You’re terrified of me and it’s my fault.” 

“Jungkook-”

“I shouldn’t be here.” 

He walks- no he glides to your door, moving with a grace that is more than just his usual, lithe steps. You bolt after him, reaching out to grab his arm as he reaches for the door. He reacts faster than your eyes can pick up the movement, wrapping a strong hand around your wrist and yanking you forward.

A sound of surprise laced with mild fears escapes you as he pins you against the hardwood door, caging you in as he steps forward. Your breath stutters as you look up at him, question dying on your lips as you really look at him.

Jungkook’s eyes are dark as midnight, but there is something glinting in them, sharp and shining. His hair hangs in his face and he’s breathing is shallow. His eyes are searching and burning and he presses a little bit closer to you and he’s warm warm warm. You shiver, despite the warmth and the smell of him- like rosewood and citrus, making your head dizzy. 

You’ve always been close to Jungkook, always ignoring one another’s personal space. But this feels different. This feels hotter as his hands skate up your sides until he reaches all the way to your jaw, angling your face to him. Your pulse hammers under the pads of his finger, and you watch his focus shift from your face to your neck.

You can’t see the little canines peeking behind his lush mouth. But you suspect that they’re there, two little sharp points that could bite into the soft flesh of your neck. The fear you had moments ago is suddenly dulling, replaced with something else that burns in the pit of your stomach. 

Everything you know about the fabric of the world has changed with him. And still… you’re pleading with him, murmuring, “Don’t leave.”

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs, almost a growl. He presses his forehead to yours and you push toward him instinctually. You’re drawn to him and your head is still spinning but you want nothing more in that moment for Jungkook to close the distance between you, to press his soft, pouty lips against yours. “If I don’t leave right now, I never will.”

“Please don’t,” you whisper. “Please.” 

“Baby…” 

Jungkook has only ever called you that once. Your mind flashes to that night, the single time during your friendship that you thought you could be more. When the touches weren’t familiar and they were intimate and you had been drowning in Jungkook. The night this all started, the night that Jungkook’s journey as… the word vampire sounds ridiculous and instead, you focus on the way he makes you feel. 

The pet name licks a flame inside you and you bring your hands up to pull at his waist, suddenly greedy for the feel and the smell of him. Your fear is gone. “Bite me, Jeon.”

Jungkook makes a sound that sounds close a moan and you echo it. Every emotion that changes his face pulls you in in in. Your fear is replaced with something headier- needier. You angle you head, exposing your neck.

“Will it help?” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

He seems distracted and despite the rollercoaster of emotions, you smile. “Feeding,” you mumble. Your hands slide to his face, fingers delicately touching the bags under his eyes. “You look so tired. I just want to help.”

“I haven’t fed from a person.”

“How… do you?”

“Blood bags, like Vampire Diaries. Sometimes in cups.”

You trace your fingertips along his cheek bones. Brushing dark strands from his face, you cup his cheeks softly, searching. Jungkook is still there- your Jungkook. He’s reflected in his eyes, in the careful way he holds you and watches you.

“I trust you,” you whisper. What you really want to say is what’s weighed on you throughout his entire absence: I love you.

You love him. You know you do. it burns dully right at the center of your chest, flaring into an inferno when he gives you a gentle nod and leans forward. You feel your heartbeat quicken, threatening to burst from your chest as you drop your hands to clutch at his shoulders.

Jungkook’s breath hits your neck and you moan deep in your throat again. He echoes the sound but its deeper as he hesitates, lips so close you can feel him breathing. You twist your fingers further in his shirt, pulling gently and you feel him smile as he chuckles nervously.

A breath gets stuck in your throat as Jungkook brushes his mouth against your pulse point, a ghost of a kiss. You can’t help but shiver and his grip tightens on you. His name falls out of your lips in the soft voice. You feel it on your neck as he presses a firm kiss to your throat.

“That feels nice,” you sigh.

It does feel nice. His mouth is soft and intimate as he begins kissing your skin. It’s hard to focus on anything but the way his mouth presses closed mouth kisses down your throat, pausing at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Are you sure?” You nod your head, unable to come up with a response as your eyelids flutter shut. “Tell me if I need to stop.”

“Okay.”

Carefully, Jungkook kisses his way back to a spot on your throat that he seems to favor, nosing your delicate skin first before he brings his lips to your skin. His teeth scrap your flesh and you let out a breathy sound as Jungkook slowly bites down. The skin breaks and immediately the pinch of his teeth sends a sharp pain through you.

You tighten your hands but you don’t push him away, the throb dulling as he makes a sound deep in his chest. You pant against him, head cloudy. You feel lighter than you remember and you sag against your door, feeling the pull of Jungkook’s greedy mouth against you. His tongue laves at your neck and you moan loudly then.

Jungkook pulls away from you, gasping. He hides his face in your neck but you grab him- you want to see him. He protests and you pull his neck harder, moving his face away from your neck to in front of you.

For a moment, you don’t do anything but stare. You’re mutely aware that there is blood running down your throat. You can feel the hot liquid trailing on your skin, slowly dripping. Your neck hurts- but it’s a very soft pain, barely there.

Jungkook looks terrifyingly beautiful. Lips ruby, blood staining his chin. His eyes are black, pupils expanded as he stares at you in painful stillness. You know you should be horrified but you’re not. You know you should be concerned that he just bit into your neck, but you’re not.

“Kiss me,” you demand. You don’t know where the strength in your voice comes from. You push into him, tilting your mouth towards his but not closing the distance, letting him decide. “Please.”

Jungkook responds immediately. He presses his lips firmly against you, stick and wet with your blood. It’s just a press of lips and his mouth is soft soft soft and you inhale through your nose sharply, knees going weak and buckling.

Tightening his hold around you, Jungkook pulls away, staring down at you, eyes wild and bloody lips parted. “Can I really kiss you?”

“Please.”

This kiss is different. You can taste the salt and iron on Jungkook’s lips as he slots his mouth against yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. Your tongue brushes his bottom lip and he growls, pressing your lips open to slide his tongue against yours.

Jungkook’s hands slide down your waist to your ass, squeezing firmly as his tongue explores the warmth of your mouth. Your hips cant against his, seeking friction where you want him most. You whine into the metallic kiss, sweatpants too thick for the feeling you want.

Growling into your mouth, Jungkook presses you flat against the door. You can feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest as the kiss turns messy. Jungkook’s teeth catch your lip and you feel the pinch of broken skin before blood slowly blooms in your mouth. Jungkook sucks your lip into his mouth, moaning as his tongue brushes over the wound.

It spurs you forward, the way he claws at you and kisses you as though he might die if he doesn’t have you sends you into a frenzy. You push into him, as though you can meld yourself to him. Your teeth nip at him back, sharply catching the corner of his soft mouth.

Jungkook breaks away and makes a sound of surprise, hand shooting to his lips, swollen from kissing you. You’re panting against the door, staring at him as he wipes the bottom corner of his mouth. His finger comes away scarlet.

“You bit me,” he smirks looking down at you. “You little vampire.”

You blush. The blood is drying on your neck, itchy and cracking as you extend your head again, showing off the bruised and marred flesh. “Don’t you need…. More?”

“I’m hungry for something else entirely, baby.”

The way he is looking at you sends you into overdrive. You make a sound, wiggling against him and he smirks, eyes looking you up and down. You must look a pathetic mess, stained with dried blood, clothes disheveled and lips swollen. But when Jungkook looks at you like that- gaze dark, hungry for something deeper- you don’t care what you look like.

There’s just Jungkook. He’s all you can focus on as your hands slide up his neck, carding through his hair and looking at his face without the shadow of his bangs. He’s ethereal as always, but gone are the cute, round eyes you’re so familiar with. Gone is the soft smile, replaced with two tiny fangs as Jungkook bites his bottom lip.

You can’t help it- a hand drifts down to his mouth, thumb gently prying his lips open. He obeys, letting you brush the pad of your thumb against the newly exposed fangs. They’re small and white, two sharp canines under your touch.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out, licking your thumb playfully as you retract your hand and make a face of fake disgust. He grins. “Sorry,” his voice is low. “Can’t help myself.”

“You didn’t have them earlier?”

He shakes his head. “Only come out when hungry and…”

“And?”

“Aroused.”

Your brows shoot up. “I see.” Your fingers trail his jaw. He’s so painfully perfect. “We should fix that.”

“Thank fuck,” he mumbles, hands shooting to grab you by the waist and haul you up.

You squeak, jumping a little last second to help him secure you in his arms. You’re a little higher than him now, arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you to your bedroom. He navigates the dark easily. You wonder if it’s the years of being in your apartment or supernatural sight that helps him.

It doesn’t matter. The heat from his body is real. He’s still a living, breathing person. He’s altered- you see it in the way his eyes dilate when he lays you on your bed, gaze drifting to your neck. You see it in the way his eyes flash every time they catch the light.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook says softly. His gaze doesn’t feel as innocent as his words. He climbs onto the bed, supporting himself so that he’s hovering over you. “I don’t tell you often enough- wasn’t brave enough to. But I think you are singularly the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You don’t know how to take the compliment. Your head automatically turns to the side as you grin into his forearm, placed next to your head. He laughs and leans down, nosing the side of your face, breath warm as he whispers, “Why does that make you shy? You weren’t shy a moment ago when you bit me.”

“It was different. That was physical.”

“So you only like me physically?”

“No!” you snap to look at him only to find that he’s grinning, back to leaning over you. You want to smack him for teasing you, but the feeling in your stomach and your chest make you fidget under him. His eyes track every movement, every reaction. “I like you… a lot.”

“As more than a friend?” You nod, eyes not meeting him. “Why can’t you look at me, then?”

“Because I’m afraid.” You feel Jungkook start to pull away and you grab at him. “Not of you! I’m afraid you don’t feel the same way. Because I’ve liked you for a very long time, and I didn’t know what to do about it.”

Jungkook presses you back down, head going to the side of your neck he hasn’t bitten. You’re pliant beneath him, head tilting to give him access. You’re already trained for what he wants or needs, ready to give him more.

Instead of biting you, he peppers your neck with wet kisses, tongue tasting your skin. “Indy,” he mumbles. “I have been in love with you since the first moment you walked into our Intro to Classical History class.”

“Really?”

His tongue licks along your jaw. You arch up into him, thighs rubbing together for friction. Of course he notices, smirking into your skin as he continues mapping your face with his mouth. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You wore the world’s tightest pair of jeans I’ve ever seen and an over-sized Tokyo Ghoul shirt- I remember being a little sad it covered your ass.”

You gasp as one hand moves from next to you to slide down your front, palming a breast gently. “You’re so gross, Jeon.”

He hums. “That’s nothing.” His hand goes further, tapping the outside of your thigh. “Open up for me, baby.”

Again, you follow his instruction without hesitation. You make room for him to settle on his knees between you. He sits up, eyes consuming you as you look up at him, batting your lashes. He inhales and his eyes flutter shut, fists opening and closing before he opens his eyes again. They’re zeroed in on you, making your heart catch.

“I can smell how wet you are,” he murmurs. He drags a fingertip along the sliver of skin showing between your shirt and sweats. “You’re dripping for me, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to do something about it?” He’s teasing you and you feel yourself flush. He pinches your skin slightly, making you squirm. “You gotta tell me what you want.”

“Want you.”

“Want me where?”

“My pussy, Jeon. Just do something.”

His saccharine smile makes you melt. Jungkook grips your sweat pants, pulling. You lift, helping him as he throws the clothing somewhere. You start to close your legs again but he grabs your knees, prying you open and tsking at you. “Such a pretty pussy,” he says, voice husky. “So fucking wet and pink. I told you,” he murmurs shuffling to his stomach. Your heart launches to your throat when he kisses a knee, eye-level with your dripping cunt. “I’m fucking starving.”

Despite his implications, Jungkook doesn’t go right where you’re hoping. He places hot kisses on your inner thighs, hands rubbing up and down your legs as he bites and worships them. You’re trembling, eyes fluttering shut as your hips twitch toward him.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, pleading. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed being on display for him. Your core is throbbing for him to touch you, to do anything. He huffs a laugh as he presses his mouth dangerously close, nipping you as a lone finger brushes you from entrance to clit, pressing slightly. “Fuck.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glittering as he brings his finger to his mouth, glistening finger vanishing between red, sinful lips. He hums again, eyes focusing on your wetness. “Fucking delicious.”

You can’t stop the obscene moan that escapes your mouth when he ducks his head down, flattening his tongue to lick you slowly from hole to clit, where he pauses to circle his tongue a few times around the pulsing bud.

And oh fuck does it feel good. Every thought empties from your mind. It’s just the hot feeling coursing through you and the feeling of Jungkook’s tongue licking you slowly up and down. A guttural sound escapes you when he fastens his mouth to your pussy, sucking gently before popping his mouth off.

In a daze, you open your eyes in just enough time to see him let a line of spit drip out of his mouth onto your clit. Your hips jerk and you curse again when he grins, glancing up at you and murmuring, “I’m going to eat this fucking pussy until I’ve had my fill.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you time to consider what he means. His mouth is back on you, sucking and licking, making an absolute mess out of you. Your hands shoot to his hair, fingers twisting in his black locks as he gives appreciative sounds, tongue tracing your clenching hole.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Please.”

You don’t know what you’re asking for. Jungkook seems to, alternating from tracing his tongue through your folds expertly to sucking his clit into your mouth. His mouth sets of sparks with every lewd sound- and Jungkook isn’t quiet.

With anyone else, you might be embarrassed that the way he eats you out audibly, without shame and without a care in the world. It turns you on more, essence leaking out of you that his searching tongue catches.

Your orgasm is quickly approaching, that tight feeling mounting in your stomach as your breathing gets shorter. Your eyes are squeezed shut, hips rolling to time with his careful licks and sucks. You’re hot all over, a furnace under Jungkook’s mouth.

The dam breaks. You jerk forward, gasping as your legs squeeze Jungkook’s shoulders. You can hear nothing beyond the roar of your blood in your ears, see nothing but blinding stars behind your eyes. You sag back onto the bed, twitching and thighs shaking as Jungkook diverts from giving your clit attention to licking at your entrance.

Boneless, you try and move up the bed but Jungkook’s hands grab you by your ass, pulling back down toward his mouth. You look at him, feeling drunk as you see his dark head of hair between your legs.

Jungkook’s eyes are fathomless as he growls, “Did I say I was done, baby?”

“Sensitive,” you whine.

He kisses your inner thigh, leaving a wet mark of spit and your cum. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, not taking his eyes off of you as his tongue snakes out of his wicked mouth to prod at your hole. “Mmm. Want to taste you more.”

“Fuck,” you moan as his tongue relieves some of the pressure at your aching hole. But it’s not enough- not nearly.

Jungkook senses what you need, a hand leaving where he’s gripping you to trace between your legs. Gently, his finger circles the ring of your clenching muscles. Eyes finding yours, he raises a brow. “Is this what you need, baby? Need my fingers?”

“Please.” He kisses your clit, making you twitch. “Jungkook.”

“Sorry,” he smiles, though he doesn’t sound or look sorry. “Just wanna make you cum again.”

There’s not going to be a problem there. You swear as he slowly inserts a finger, brushing against the softness of you in all the right parts. You know you’re going to cum embarrassingly fast, especially when he inserts another finger, gently brushing your g-spot as he brushes his mouth over your thighs, wrist moving slowly.

You melt at his touch, letting him bring you to the edge again. You can’t stop the sounds coming out of your mouth or the way you writhe in his arms. He lets you squirm, attentive on fucking into you at a steady pace with his fingers.

When he deems you ready, he brings his mouth back down, tongue slowly laving at your clit.

You explode.

For a moment, you’re nowhere and everywhere all at once. You can’t think beyond anything other than the surging euphoria. You can’t recall ever cumming that hard, nearly unable to breathe as you float back down.

It takes a moment for you to realize Jungkook is kissing your lower stomach, hands rubbing up and down your quaking thighs as he looks up to you, eyes completely fucked out and mouth covered in your juices.

“You did so good,” he coos, placing a wet kiss on your navel. “You taste divine- better than blood. Much better.”

“Want you,” you mumble, surprised you manage to articulate the desire still burning in your stomach, hot and needy. “Please.”

“Yeah? Still want me?”

“Of course.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles, getting to his knees again. “You’ll have me, then. You’ll always have me- have always had me.”

Soft light filters in your room from the window. You watch in awe as he rips his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless before- he’s always been beautiful. But now in the glow of the dark room, Jungkook is a god.

You sit up, hands seeking. His skin is warm and flushed as your palms skim up his stomach and around his waist, careful and meaningful with their worship. Your mouth follows to pay penance, kissing at the newly exposed flesh, nipping at the delicate skin above his sweatpants.

Jungkook tilts his head to the sky, as if in prayer. Your tongue darts out to taste him, skin sweet and slightly salty from sweat. He lets out a soft mewl. Your fingers dig into his skin as they drag down, nails tracing red scripture in their descent.

You love him. Gone is the feral heat between you a moment ago when he licked at you with hot fury. Your touches are soft. Jungkook brings his hand to your hair, brushing it out of your face as he looks down at you, eyes round and curious.

“You’re hypnotizing.” You pull at his pants and he lets you, shifting to discard the sweatpants and boxers. You nearly collapse at the sight of his heavy cock, bouncing. Its tip is weeping and pink, begging for attention. “All of you is perfect.”

Your tongue darts out to taste him, kitten-licking the tip. He moans deep in his throat, eyes shut as his fingers tangle in your hair. You suckle the tip of his cock, tongue tracing lazy circles before you pull back with a lewd pop.

Gently, you bring a hand to stroke him, nearly keening at how velvety his skin is. His cock jumps in your hand, making you smile at how much you affect him.

Slowly, you stroke him, bringing him back to your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you take more of his cock into the warmth of your mouth, humming delicately at the salty tastes.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans loudly. You’ve hardly set a pace when he pulls you gently off of him, making you pout. “I can’t,” he pants. “I’ll cum in a second and I don’t want to cum down your throat tonight. We can do that another time. I just want to fuck you- please let me make love to you.”

Jungkook’s choice in words have you spinning. Make love. You don’t know what that’s like- you’ve fucked men before, but never with meaning. Never with intentions beyond pleasure.

Carefully, Jungkook pulls your shirt off, tossing it in the dim room. He presses you back down on the bed, bringing his mouth to yours. Your tongues tangle as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You feel his cock brush your wet entrance and you groan into him.

The kiss tastes like a mix of him and you and the faint saltiness of blood- you don’t care. It’s a part of him, so it’s a part of you. Jungkook shuffles himself so that his mouth is pressed against your jaw, hot breath in your ear as he places open-mouthed kisses there.

“Condom?”

“I’m clean,” you gasp as his tip grazes your clit. “We got STD tests together, remember? I haven’t… since.”

You feel his mouth curve upward. “Me either. Taehyung mentioned vampires are… sterile.”

“Fine,” you mutter. “I don’t want kids- I want to adventure the world- with you.”

“Fuck.” His voice shakes when he says it.

Spurred by the need in his voice, you reach between you, gripping Jungkook’s cock in his head. He shakes above you as you brush the tip up and down your slit, gathering your essence to make him slick. You position his blunt head at your entrance, looking up at him. He doesn’t hesitate, rolling his hips forward to push into you.

The pressure doesn’t hurt, but you feel all of him. You make a sigh of relief and discomfort as he slowly slides into you. Jungkook fills every inch of you, the drag of his cock delicious. He bottoms out and stays there for a moment, stealing a searing kiss from you.

Your fingers wind in his hair. “Please move,” you mumbled between pressed lips. “Wanna feel you.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, groaning as he slides his cock all the way out and pushes back in slowly. His pace is slow but deep, making it hard to breathe. Your hips roll in time to meet his thrust, an almost lazy pace like you have all the time in the world.

Your mouth is busy as you kiss Jungkook on his lips, jaw, chin, ear. It’s more teeth and tongue than anything, especially as he starts fucking into you with a smooth pace.

Everything in your mind goes haywire. You can barely think. You want to touch Jungkook everywhere, pulling and pulling him until he’s down on his forearms, chest pressed against yours. You moan at the feeling of his chest against your pert nipples, creating mind-numbing friction.

Jungkook notices. He ducks his dead down as he pumps into you, hitting deep every time. He wraps his mouth around a nipple, making you sing. Everything is overwhelming. You feel every part of him pressed against you and you want more. More more more

You want to drown in Jungkook.

You want him to sink his teeth in and never let go.

Turning your head to the side, you let out a high-pitch whimper. You can’t stop the noises coming out of you, squeaking and struggling to stop the shaky quality but you feel so fucking good as he fucks into you.

“Feels so good,” you gasp at a particularly deep thrust.

“Yeah it fucking does,” Jungkook agrees, licking at your neck where your blood has dried. “You’re fucking squeezing my cock, Indy. You gonna cum?”

“Yes yes yes yes.”

“Fuck I love the way you look right now. Dreamed of this for years.”

“Pervert- fuuuuuck Jungkook.”

“Cum for me, yeah?”

You nod and whisper, “Bite me.”

He grunts and bends down, immediately sinking his teeth in. There’s no pain this time. Heat blooms through you, a white-hot flame that catches you so off guard you go rigid, cumming with a scream.

You float. Jungkook slows his movements, fucking you gentle through the white noise in your ears and the heavenly feeling of weightlessness. It takes you a few moments to come back down from your high, feeling the way Jungkook’s mouth pulls at your neck greedily.

Tired and spent, you grab Jungkook by the hips, fingers sliding against sweaty skin. He detaches from your neck and kisses you, messy with spit and blood again. You don’t care, moaning into him without abandon, digging your nails into his ass.

Jungkook loses his slow pace and begins to slam into you, kiss turning to teeth bumping into teeth. He growls into your mouth, the snarl sending shivers down your body as you hold into him.

He fucks you with wild abandon, chasing his high. His moans get higher pitched and you run your nails down his thighs, pushing yourself into him with whatever energy you can gather. “Cum for me,” you beg. “Give it to me, Jeon. Come on.”

With a loud moan, he buries himself into your shoulder, shuddering above you. His muscles clench as he cums and pants your name, shivering above you for a moment.

Gently, you run your hands up and down his sides, kissing the side of his fact. You can see his mouth is covered in blood- and it doesn’t nearly freak you out as much as you expect. Because it’s Jungkook, and even though this is weird and he just drank your blood… you’re his. You have been for a long time.

Jungkook pulls out of you and collapses next to you, an arm going around your waist. He peeks at you from his sweaty hair and you can’t help but feel your heart leap in your chest.

“You didn’t kill me,” you murmur. “Pretty impressive, Jeon.”

He grins, tired. “It’s because I love you.” He shifts so that he can hold your gaze in full. “I know I have a lot to figure out, and I understand if you don’t-“

“I want to,” you cut him off. “Because I love you too.”

“Yeah?” He brushes the hair from your face. You nod and nip at his wrist, making him laugh. “Maybe you’re a little bit of a vampire too, hmm?”

“I’ll leave that to you,” you yawn. Jungkook pulls you close and nuzzles you. You don’t care that your sweaty and sticky with cum and blood. You just want to be close to him.

And your happy. Despite how afraid you were while he was gone. Despite the fact that there is an entire unknown ahead of you. It’ll be okay because you have Jungkook and he has you.

“By the way,” Jungkook muses. “Were you researching how to kill Taehyung?”

You hesitate. “I was kind of mad.”

“I see. And now?”

“Jury is still out.”

He chuckles. “Love you, Indy.”

“Love you, Jeon.”

-

Dear Miss L/N,

Thank you for applying for our entry level Acquisition Agent position here at Ilum Agency. We have received many applicants for the position, and take careful considerations to presented research, experience in the field, and recommendations.

After reviewing your final research project regarding Vampirism: Throughout the Ages, and additionally receiving recommendations from Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi, we are pleased to offer you the position. Upon written receipt of this offer, you will receive a formal offer letter with your job responsibilities, salary and additional benefits.

Warmest Regards,

The Director of Acquisitions

Ilum Agency

Sector 11

Mine | One Shot | myg (m)

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x Succubus F. Reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi lives a quiet life. His days are organized neatly, and every week he can expect the same results. Then he meets you. Hypnotizing. Otherworldly. Strange. And his life never goes back to the way it was before.

❀ Word Count: 14,864

❀ Genre: Smut, Horror, Thriller

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Buckle up bitches this list of warnings is going to exhaust even me. Overall creepiness, descriptions of liminal spaces, tons of mentions of subspace-like trances, Yoongi's mind is not always his own, unexplained happenings, Yoongi being manipulated subtly, written jump scares (like three of them?), nightmares, hallucinations, the cutest and also creepiest fucking little succubus you'll ever see, Succy (succubus reader) really likes Tokyo Ghoul that should be a hint, hints at eating raw meat (bleh), Yoongi turning against his friends, Yoongi feeling sick/depressed in a couple of scenes, Yoongi is literally addicted to eating reader out soiejijrghij, explicit sexual content including, spit play, nipple play, oral (f. and m. receiving), grinding, unprotected sex in multiple positions, cum eating, switch dynamics between the two of them often, subspace mentions, fingering, ass play (m. receiving), just.... so many bodily fluids all the time, mentions of animal death (it is a cat and it's dead body is briefly described), a lot of confusion and pace changes as a style choice, Succy is literally obsessed with Yoongi so a lot of the pet name Kitty, very cringe behavior for some rando Yoongi met at a bar, ambiguous ending. I think that covers it idk this is almost 15k of pure nightmare fuel I will send you my therapists number alright

❀ Published: October 30, 2022

❀ A/N: If I have to write this authors note one more time because 'a wild tumbeast ate my fucking post I will scream. Do better Tumblr please stop eating my content over and over lmao. ANYWAY. SURPRISE THIS IS HERE A DAY EARLY. I have zero self-control and @gimmethatagustd told me to post it now so I really said fuck it we ball. I didn't use a beta for this one because I'm insane but I did edit it myself.... so if you see errors..... no you didn't. This one was so much fun to write and I hope you all love Succy as much as I do. She deserves the world she is very... scary and cute. 

HAPPY HALIWEEN!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask |

Friday nights are spent blowing off steam from work with friends. Yoongi has always lived a simple life, and he likes his Fridays like this: second person to the bar after Taehyung, a quick shot of whisky to take the edge off the day, followed by a whiskey neat and some fries from the kitchen that will still be a little unthawed in the middle. 

Yoongi loves his Fridays at Serendipity. 

The name is a bit of a joke, Jimin says. He inherited the old, rundown bar under another name from his abusive father after he passed away. Mysterious circumstances, the long-term patrons mutter into darkened ale and frosted mugs. Still, they come despite Jimin flipping the name. It was the only thing Jimin could afford to flip, the floors still the same sticky concrete that collect vomit, spilled beer, whiskey, and perhaps a little piss.

It's an ugly thing, with the vinyl stool covers splitting open to reveal guts of yellow foam, and countertops that need another layer of lacquer to fight the chipping from heavy mugs being slammed down every time Seokjin gets into an argument with one of the regulars. Yoongi tries to avoid the bathroom as much as he can. Jimin spent two weeks cleaning it and stocking it with a nice care basket with sprays, cotton rounds, and other products, only to have someone puke in it on the first night.

Yoongi doesn’t care that Jimin named the bar as a bit of an inside joke. Yoongi knows in his heart of hearts when he sees you that this moment is serendipitous.

Because when Yoongi sees you for the first time, the world ends.

Not really. But it feels that way the moment he turns at the bar. Perhaps he’s meant to see you – or perhaps it was by your design. He tilts backward when the door opens, searching for any sign of Seokjin who said he would be there in a few minutes.

And there you are.

Lights dim. The world takes on a muted feeling, like the two of you exist between murky, brackish water with something lurking just beyond the clouded space that he can’t quite make out. The roaring voices of the bar fade softly into the background until it’s just a buzz of pressure between Yoongi’s ears - or maybe that’s not right. Maybe it’s the buzzing pressure of awareness pressing on his spine and eardrums. 

It isn’t pleasant but it’s not… uncomfortable. 

It’s impossible to look away from you. He tries - tries to remember where he is. A bar, perhaps? Not this weird, opaque space where the only thing he can make out is the rogue on your lips, a spark in your eye, and the way you walk forward. No. Walk isn’t the right word. Glide might be more appropriate, he thinks. 

As you near him, Yoongi breathes in sharply. Something like cedar mixed with jasmine and amber makes his head spin. The world tilts and Yoongi begins to slide on its new axis until suddenly, the mist surrounding him shatters as his foot comes into contact with the ground, knee buckling under his weight as his hand flies to the bar to hold himself up.

He fell off of his stool.

Yoongi almost doesn’t believe it, except Taehyung is laughing so hard next to him that Yoongi flushes furiously. He slides back onto the stool, brows furrowed and head ducked down to hide his rapidly glowing red ears and face from you.

But then you speak, and Yoongi cannot fight the urge to look at you once more. It’s an instinct pulling him from blushing furiously in his lap to stare at you.

“Hi,” you murmur. Yoongi is a fish out of water, mouth parted slightly, heart racing. Jasmine. Cedar. Amber. It’s all he can smell. His head swims, mind foggy as he tries to string together words. “Is this seat next to you taken? It’s the only one empty.”

Is it? Yoongi can’t tear his eyes from you, but he could swear Old Ass Han had been sitting there before you walked in.

Old Ass Han is the least annoying of Jimin’s customers and sometimes Yoongi doesn’t mind when Old Ass Han rambles about his late wife. Yoongi has no idea how old Old Ass Han is, he just knows that he was ancient even when Yoongi studied as a high school student tucked in the far corner of the bar.

“Um, yes?” Yoongi says and it comes out like a question.

You grin at him and the world ends a second time.

Pleasure-laced fear shoots down his spine. Your teeth are white and straight, but he swears for a split second they were razor sharp. He shakes his head, dispelling a little of the floating feeling as he says, “Of course. Yes. Please sit.”

Yoongi holds his breath and averts his eyes as you slide onto the stool next to him.

It’s suddenly too loud in the bar, a cacophony of voices and chairs scraping against concrete. Yoongi can still smell you, making the world rotate awkwardly as he spins on his stool to find Taehyung staring at him, brows raise and barely concealing his laughter.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you fumble like that,” Taehyung murmurs. He loses control of his laughter and tries to hide it in his cup of cider. Yoongi flushes and angrily stares into his whiskey, hyperaware of you leaning on the bar to call the bartender’s attention. “I mean – she is – holy shit I never believed in faeries or witches before but there's no way she’s human.”

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth. He tries to find a response to Taehyung, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and something tingles along every hair on his arm and neck, a sense of awareness as you lean on the bar, speaking to the bartender.

Again, your voice haunts Yoongi in a matter of seconds. He feels the need to turn and look at you again, but he doesn’t want to be weird. He’s already fallen off the stool once, and he doesn’t plan on further exacerbating his humiliation.

So, Yoongi remains facing Taehyung. Clutches his whiskey glass with shaking hands. Tries to take a breath – it comes out shaky – to calm himself. He has no idea what kind of delirium is threatening him every moment you’re next to him, but he wants to fight it - tries to fight it.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s brows twitch, mouth pouting. He ducks his head slightly, trying to find Yoongi’s gaze, but the older keeps his eyes fixed on the wood grain bar. Yoongi wants to look at you again. So bad. Wants to ask you your name. Wants to memorize the curves of your mouth. Wants to memorize every stroke of color in your eyes.

Want want want want.

A sudden throb pulses in Yoongi. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels it bloom inside of him, unfurling with warm petals of want want want want.

The urge to turn and look at you gets stronger.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

Yoongi grits his teeth. Feels pressure at the back of his head, like there are featherlight fingers pressing into the base of his skull to urge him to turn around and look at you again. His muscles constrict and he feels himself start to turn, hips beginning to swivel in your direction, arms rigidly placed on the bar as if to fight his lower half.

When he doesn’t turn to look at you, Yoongi swears he imagines the light press of fingers turning into a steel grip. His eyes start to water and he clenches his teeth, feeling an immovable force on him pulling, dragging, tearing - and he lets out a small gasp, the grip on him so strong that he -

“Yoongi,” Taehyung says again, voice firmer. Yoongi looks up this time, eyes soft and round, face flushed. There’s a little sweat collected on his brow, and Yoongi feels a dull throb at the back of his head like a fading migraine. “What’s wrong?”

“Um-“ he cuts himself off and clears his throat. The pressure on his head is gone, but the menthol-cool, awareness of you is not. “Maybe too much to drink? It’s been a stressful week, I think I knocked these back too quickly.

“You do look sort of flushed.” Taehyung raises his brows. “Maybe water?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Water, please.”

Taehyung asks for water when the bartender returns with your drink. Yoongi doesn’t look at you, though he can see from the corner of his eye you’re looking at him. He grits his teeth and stares at the mismatched, colored bottles behind the bar. None of its top-shelf – Jimin certainly cannot afford it – but it doesn’t need to be.

A glass of water appears in front of Yoongi in time for Seokjin’s arrival. The pressure in Yoongi’s skull doesn’t return, and the tingling along his nerves like an electric current dies down a little. He still feels shaken as he sips the water, freeing up the dry feeling on his tongue.

Seokjin nestles between Yoongi and Taehyung, ordering himself a drink. Jimin appears around the bar this time, finally done with his bookkeeping in the back, and slides a beer over to Seokjin. Yoongi watches the way Jimin smiles at them before his attention falters and slides to you sitting next to Yoongi, making Jimin blink rapidly a few times.

Irrational irritation flares in Yoongi for a split second. Though his attention is on his friend and watching Jimin reacts to you sitting in Old Ass Han’s place, it occurs to Yoongi that he doesn’t want anyone else to compete with him.

Not that he stands a chance. But for once in his life, Yoongi wouldn’t mind being the one to take someone home. Why can’t it be him? He saw you first. You’re sitting next to him.

Just as Jimin’s eyes glitter, turning to half-moons as he smiles at you, Yoongi spins in the chair, giving you his full attention. Your eyes turn to meet his and Yoongi is falling into them, no end in sight.

“Hi again,” you greet, voice velvet. “You have pretty eyes.”

“All right, hyung,” Jimin murmurs. Yoongi isn’t looking at Jimin, but he can hear the smirk in his voice as Jimin retreats to their friends.

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmurs. He allows himself to drink you in. His head begins to buzz like he’s had too much whiskey, his tongue heavy and cotton-fuzzed in his mouth. “You have a pretty… everything.”

You have to know how beautiful you are. A deity beneath silk-smooth skin. But you duck your head, a shy giggle leaving your lips. You have the decency to look shy, averting your eyes, lip tucked between teeth.

Perhaps later Yoongi will be embarrassed by the honesty. But right now, it’s all he can do to keep his heart rate normal. You are incredible to look at. Taehyung was right – perhaps not human.

An unnatural glow hums under your skin. Your eyes are vivid, drinking him in with a spark that Yoongi swears echoes a deep flame in the pit of his stomach. He wrestles with himself, his hands fighting a magnetic pull to reach over and brush his fingers across the canvas of your skin.

Yoongi won’t be able to stop if he touches you. His thoughts repulse him – you’re a stranger. Someone he doesn’t know. Someone his mind is begging to violate. He fists his pants, flexing the muscles of his hands and willing the strange pull toward you to go away.

He doesn’t even know your name and Yoongi feels like Pandora, watching you with coveted desire and shaking, greedy hands. Fuck he wants to pry you open and see what treasure lurks beneath the surface.

“What’s your name?” You ask him. You stir a beverage straw in your drink – an Old Fashioned. His lips twitch in a smile at your taste in drinks as he offers you his name. “Yoongi,” you repeat back. The way his name melts in your mouth like sugar entices him. “Cute. You’re cute.”

Yoongi flashes you a shy smile, echoing yours. You share a laugh, his rough and scratchy as he chews the inside of his cheek nervously, yours light and floating. It echoes in his ears and Yoongi loses his sense of self, thoughts drug-laced with only you.

And then your lips are on him and once again, Yoongi swears the world around him has fallen to destruction.

It’s hard to remember the order of events. Yoongi doesn’t care. Your mouth is sugar-sweet and hungry, licking into Yoongi’s open-mouthed kisses as he presses you against something firm. He wants to melt into you, your skin like fire under his seeking hands, your breath delicate and soft against the empty air of what he thinks is his apartment as his lips attached to your neck.

Even your skin tastes sugared. A delicacy for him. For his mouth only.

Mine. The word echoes across his mind, but not in is own voice. 

You writhe underneath Yoongi’s hands. He squeezes the flesh of your lips, tongue snaking out to lick a broad stripe of skin up your neck. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging slightly, just enough to make him groan against your skin.

Yoongi is painfully hard. His cock throbs in his pants, the material restrictive and making the ache so much worse. He grinds his hips against yours, mouth sucking viciously at your collarbone, the top of your cleavage, anywhere he can taste you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your head thudding against the wall behind you. Panting, you hike up one of your legs, wrapping it against his waist to pull him in tighter to you. Yoongi whines as you connect your mouths again, tongue and teeth, and spit as you grind against him. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“Have me,” he mumbles sucking your tongue into his mouth. You moan, deep in your chest. He swears for a second it’s like a growl. Thinks nothing of it. Just pushes against you hard, cock pulsing. “Whatever you want.”

“Please.”

Yoongi never wants to hear you beg again. Or maybe he doesn’t want you to stop begging. He can’t make up his mind as he pulls you toward a room – his room. Yes, you’re both in his apartment. That’s his slate grey couch that you’re stumbling past and that’s his sheets that you fall backward against.

Licking his lips, Yoongi takes a moment to look down at you. You’re splayed out for him, unfurling in his sheets. He knows tomorrow morning they’ll still smell like you – jasmine, cedar, amber. You look divine, a flower unfolding delicate petals, open for him.

Only for him. Mine. 

You wrap your legs around Yoongi, pulling him flush to the edge of the bed. You release him and press your feet to the bed, knees resting against his hips. You blink at him through fluttering lashes and starry eyes. He’s never seen anything like you. He never will again. He knows it.  

“God damn you’re beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, the words slipping through his lips, unrelenting.

The stars in your eyes vanish. Yoongi recoils, seeing the fathomless black threatening to eat him alive. He begins to pull away, terror shooting through his chest, sharp and angry. You squeeze your knees against his hips, nearly shattering him. Your mouth is a gash of red with rows and rows of black teeth, churning and churning.

“Don’t speak his name here,” you hiss, words slithering in layers of many different voices. “Never again.”

Yoongi blinks and you’re blushing as you look up at him, knees splayed like butterfly wings, open for him. Just for him. He smiles at the way you giggle and hide behind a hand. “You’re so sweet.”

“You are beautiful. I swear it.”

“Touch me.” Your voice drips honey-sweet on his senses. “I want to feel you, Yoongi. Please.”

There is a prickling sensation like fear at the base of his spine but Yoongi can’t remember why as he smiles at you lazily, dipping down between your legs. He props himself above you, hands planted on the mattress on either side of your head to cage you in.

“Ask me again.”

“Please. Please please please-“

Yoongi swallows your begging tongue first, delving into your luscious mouth.

It’s been a long time since he’s been in his room like this with a partner, much less with someone who looks the way you do, but Yoongi’s hands are confident as they sweep up your sides, pulling the fabric of your shirt up with his hands as they go. You lean upward, letting him pull it off you before it flies from his hand somewhere in the room.

The lights are off in his room, but a silver shaft of moonlight spills through the window to paint you silver. Your eyes reflect the light as you drink him in, his hands brushing up your arms, warming your skin as he traces them to your tits, palming them generously over your bra.

A sigh escapes through your parted lips, red lipstick smeared artfully from the clash of mouths and tongues. He dips back down, tongue hungry for your sugar-warm taste and the liquid heat of your mouth.

Yoongi is dizzy. He’s a little off balance as he breathes you in. Your fingers pull through the strands of his hair, hips canting upward as he reaches around to unclasp your bra, peeling the unwanted layer from you.

Heated, shameless eyes meet his. You tilt your chest toward him, eager for his mouth. He doesn’t miss a beat, placing wet kisses over the tops of your breasts, more tongue and spit than lips, leaving a slick trail to your right nipple. Yoongi’s mouth is possessive, sucking your pert but between his lips and flicking it lightly with his tongue, looking up where your lips part in the moonlight to let out a soft moan.

It spurs him further, plucking your nipple with his teeth, pulling any sound he can from you. He gets a loud whine then and you wiggle your hips under the weight of where his waist is pressed into yours. Grinning, Yoongi repeats the motion, giving a generous suck before pulling away with his teeth, gentling scrapping your peak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Feels so good.”

Yoongi trails chaste kisses from one nipple to the other, giving it the same attention. He snakes a hand down your body, fingers dancing across heated skin to pull at the zipper on your jeans. His hands tremble, making it difficult to free the first button.

Reluctantly, Yoongi pulls his mouth away from your breast, a glossy strand of spit connecting his mouth to your swollen skin as he looks down, using both hands to pop the button on your pants and tug violently at them.

“These jeans are the fucking devil.”

“Yes,” you murmur, so quietly that he can barely hear you. He gets them to your ankle, yanking one more time and tossing them. He loses your hushed words in the rustle of clothes hitting the floor when you whisper, “I am.”

“Hmm?” he asks.

You silence his question by pulling his shirt over his head, leaning to capture his exposed chest with your tongue and teeth. Yoongi stands between your legs, head falling tilting toward the heavens at the worship of your mouth.

Deep groans leave his mouth. You bite more than you kiss, but Yoongi likes the way your mouth leaves a trail of little teeth marks, your mouth pinching his flesh before your tongue soothes it. You have him trembling, nearly making him double over as your hand presses over his clothed cock firmly, applying the pressure he needs.

It’s not enough.

Every part of Yoongi feels exposed. Even half dressed, the world is brushing against him raw, every touch of your hands like pleasure and torture, every fan of your breath like the coldest breeze on a hot summer day.

None of the sensations make sense but he feels high – higher than that time he and Jimin took shrooms at that one festival in college where the lights had whispered secrets of the forest to Yoongi and where he had tasted something beyond what he could describe.

But under your carnal touch, Yoongi knows that is nothing compared to this. Nothing compares to the way you work his jeans down to his midthigh, too impatient for him to kick out of them before you’re dipping a hand in his briefs and taking his cock into your hand.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi gasps, nearly toppling backward. Your grip is firm, strokes deft and confident and oh my god he might come like this.

You lean up to teeth at the pulse point of his neck as your tongue darts out to take a firm lick. “There is nothing holy about me, Min Yoongi,” you murmur against his neck. He shivers, eyes rolling behind closed lids as you speak. He can feel the trace of your incisors, sharper than he remembers against his skin.

Stars dance behind his eyes. You pull your hand away from his cock, making him protest. You hush him with a bite against his shoulder, sharp enough that he thinks you break skin. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting his world sweep from under his feet as you turn him and knock him onto the bed.

When the feeling of spinning stops a little, he blinks his eyes open to help you peel his clothes the rest of the way off. You’re fully naked and Yoongi doesn’t know where to keep his eyes. The swells of your breasts, marked with bite marks and spit from his mouth, the curves of your stomach and waist as you climb atop him, predatory and eager, or the glistening slick of your thighs where you’re dripping for him.

“Come here,” he demands. He’s dying to have you on his tongue, knows you’ll taste saccharine. He grabs your thighs harder than necessary, zeroing in on your pussy as he pulls you toward his mouth. “Wanna fucking taste. Bet you’re fucking delicious.”

You hum in delight, a lethal smile on your face as you crawl up to where he wants you, knees firmly on either side of his head. Yoongi lets out an appreciative noise. Your cunt is sticky and glossy for him, the perfect meal.

With gentle fingers, he parts your folds gently to reveal your slick, clenching hole and needy clit. Yoongi is eager, a finger trailing up and down your warm slit as he lets out a moan.

“Fucking wet,” he whispers before leaning up for a long, slow lick.

Stars explode behind his eyes. He hums in delight, shivering at the taste of you, heady on his tongue. He repeats the motion a few times, flattening his tongue for a slow-drag, appreciative lick up your cunt. He feels the way you drip into his mouth, spill on his chin and he can’t help but curse, at how addictive this feels.

You moan when he dips his tongue into your entrance, gathering your essence on the tip of his tongue before he drags it soft-slow up to your clit, circling your bundle of nerves lazily. Yoongi pulls your clit into his mouth with gentle lips, feeling the way it pulses as he sucks gently.

The sounds you make above him spur him further. He alternates between sucking your clit delicately and butterfly-soft tongue flutters, watching your mouth go slack as you watch him. The more you drip into his eager mouth, the greedier Yoongi gets, fastening his entire mouth on you and sucking harshly.

It becomes sloppy and imprecise. Yoongi can’t decide where he wants his mouth most. He can’t remember ever feeling this lightheaded from oral, much less giving. But he’s starstruck under you, sucking and sucking and sucking – fuck he doesn’t know if he’s even taking breaths.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whisper, a hand going to knot in his hair. His scalp tingles pleasantly where you hold onto him, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips move slowly over his face. “Fuck keep going.”

Pride swells in his chest. Your voice is airy, breaths short and stilted and overwhelmed as he eats you vigorously. His fingers dimple your skin, pressing into the meat of your ass as he rocks you on his tongue, jaw slack, tongue flat for you to let you fuck yourself on his face the way you want.

Yoongi feels you drip down his face, hears the wet-smack of his mouth against your cunt. He moans. Buries his face further, letting you grind yourself on his nose, chin, mouth lips, anything. He doesn’t care, sticky-coated to the jaw, so fucked out from pleasing you that he almost blacks out when you cum.

Something happens.

He doesn’t know how to describe it – it’s like for a moment, everything goes dark. Perhaps he does blackout. Perhaps he wasn’t breathing. He can’t remember. All he knows is that between one heartbeat and the next, there’s a moment of pure darkness accompanied by a laugh that chills his spine.

And then your mouth is on him, spit and cum making the glide of your mouths sticky-sweet.

Yoongi sucks your tongue into his mouth, pressing his fingers gently to the back of your head, pulling you closer closer closer. He just wants you closer, his stomach burning with a sudden hunger for you. He feels on fire, skin too-warm where your chest slides against his, sweaty and flushed.

Sheets stick to every part of him. He’s aware of the sweat that slides down his neck, a cool finger of relief as you press him further and further into the mattress. He feels like he’s sinking, entering a new domain where he’s no longer in his room – he's just with you. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Your fingers claw at his hair, pulling the strands to pin him to the mattress as you lift yourself, looking down at Yoongi. He blinks, stars in his eyes as he starts up at you, looming. Glowing. Beautiful. His hands are on your hips, a sparking current humming just beneath the surface of your skin.

You feel alive and vibrant.

A moan escapes Yoongi’s mouth, pleasure rolling through him as you grind your cunt on his throbbing cock, warm and wet. His eyes flutter, Yoongi squirming under you, legs kicking and twitching as you tease him. Just the glide of you on his shaft makes him shiver, the pit of his stomach clenching.

“Please,” Yoongi rasps. His fingers dig into your hips, begging. Pleading. Desperate. “Please please please please.”

“You look so pretty when you beg.” Your grinding increases and the room spins. His hands fall from your hips to the sheets, fingers fisted tightly in the fabric. “You’re so beautiful, Yoongi. My Yoongi. Mine. Mine mine mine.”

Your words are lost on him. There’s only the firm touch of your hand against his cock, gripped tight at the base as you lift yourself. He feels his cockhead catch on your swollen entrance and he lets out a strangled noise. He doesn’t know if he can stop himself from cumming. He is bursting at the seams with heat, an inferno so intense he swears that the world catches fire as you slide down his cock, warm and tight.

“Shiiit,” Yoongi hisses. He takes a deep breath and holds it, hips twitching where you straddle his waist, letting him suffer beneath you.

“Feels good.” You lean forward, hands pressed to his chest to support your weight. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open. He blinks at you through wet lashes. The room is so dark he can only make out the barest features on your face, but he sees your eyes clearly. Looking at him. Watching. Hungry. “So good,” you repeat. “So fucking deep.”

Nails bite into the skin of his chest. He feels his skin smart. The hot bead of blood that forms. He doesn’t care, watching as slowly, you lift your hips, your walls hugging every inch of Yoongi. He lets out a shaky breath, hands settling on your waist. He plants his feet in the bed, angling himself better as you reach the tip of his cock before sinking back down.

Heaven and hell. Yoongi wavers between both, gritting his teeth to keep from coming, to keep the feeling of you gripping him tight going. He doesn’t want it to end, it feels so good but it’s wonderful agony, fighting the curl in his stomach, the twitching of his abs, the threat of exploding.

Yoongi's eyes are drawn to where you fuck yourself on him, sticky arousal turning silver in the single shaft of moonlight that spills across the bed where you’re joined. He can’t look away, entranced by the wet smack of your ass on his thighs, the way you just fucking take him.

It lights a fire in him more intensely than the solar flare that threatens to send him spinning into his orgasm. Yoongi growls, digging his nails into your skin, half-moons on smooth flesh as he grits his teeth and fucks up into you. You gasp, nails raking down his chest as he jostles you. His breath comes out as stilted hisses behind clenched teeth.

“Touch yourself for me,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you come all over me – please.”

“Gonna,” you pant, head falling to his chest, claws leaving pink lines on pale flesh. You slide one hand down his body, making him groan as he fucks you with abandon. You gasp, hand working your clit between your writhing bodies. “Gonna come.”

“Please - for me.” He thrusts hard, thighs trembling with the effort, holding his breath as his muscles squeeze. He can feel you tense, pussy clenching so tight he curses and stops, letting you pulse around him as you moan and an unintelligible string of curses that sounds... like another language. “Fuck, just like that.”

Yoongi feels himself come apart. His universe shatters and he floats among the stars. Weightless. Happy. Tired. He feels nothing and everything, a soft frequency of... something dancing along his skin. A soft buzz. Pleasant and warm.

He doesn’t know how long he exists in that space. He can still smell notes of cedar, jasmine and amber. It's stronger now, with a touch of something else... something burning. He leans into the smell and it wraps around him, soft hands around his middle and petal-soft lips against his cheek.

Yoongi becomes vaguely aware that it’s you curled into his side, nose hidden in his neck, chest rising and falling against his arm. It grounds him a little. Brings him back into a dark room that is too obscure to be sure it’s his bedroom at all.

As he drifts off into sleep, he remembers the feeling of your tongue against his neck and nothing more. 

-

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

It wakes Yoongi up. His stomach feels empty. His hands seek your warmth, palming your ass, pulling your hips flush to his. He doesn’t open his eyes, content to feel your heat. Again, something like electricity thrums under your skin, tickling his wandering hands.

Your mouth catches his. Pulls him further from sleep. He feels his skin ache from your teeth and nails the night before. Feels the weight of something inside of him that wasn’t there before, although he cannot put into words what it is.

Even in the morning, your mouth is sweet. Gluttonous. You suck his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling softly followed by a light giggle. He smiles into the next kiss, sloppy and filled with too much tongue but he lets you taste him.

Yoongi swears there is an echo of your taste from the night before. It’s enough to kickstart desire in him, detaching his mouth to plant kisses down your neck. Chest. Stomach. His tongue licks a trail down your velvet skin.

In a shuffle of sheets and skin, you lay back for him, pliant. He’s awake now, pressing your thighs open, teeth nipping the tender flesh. You giggle and the sound makes him pause, lips pressed to your leg, eyes looking up at you in the dim light of the morning. Or night. It’s hard to tell what time it is, here with you in this bed.

Glowing eyes look at him. Round. Soft. Curious. You watch Yoongi with rapt attention, lip pulled between your teeth. Spread. Eager. Ethereal.

Yoongi drops his gaze, groaning when he sees how fucking wet you are. He pulls you closer, sliding a hand under your ass to provide support. Curious, he brushes his thumb up and down your folds, collecting your essence as he does.

“So swollen and wet,” he mumbles, morning voice deep and scratchy. “You’re always so ready to be eaten, hmm?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

The new nickname makes him pause, thumb resting on your clit. He can almost feel your cunt throb under the pad of his finger as he applies a little pressure, watching you whine and kick your legs a bit. He grins.

“Kitty?” he asks as he resumes playing with you. His thumb dips into your hole, ring of muscles clenching around him. His grin spreads as he pulls it away, watching you fight with the loss.

“You have- ughhh – cat eyes. Pretty. Soft. Smart. Kitty.”

He hums, dipping his head forward to give you a single kitten lick. He shuts his eyes and sighs heavily, your taste heavy on his tongue. You taste just as good as the night before. “Cute,” he murmurs, more to himself. “I like it, baby.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response. He presses in, tongue lapping at you hungrily, refusing to let you drip without his mouth for another moment.

-

Greedy.

You’re greedy. You always are. Yoongi isn’t sure what day it is. It might be the same night as when he brought you home or it could be the weekend or it could be next week. He somewhat remembers the taste of a meal. Some cool water. But he doesn’t recall when he made it or when he showered.

He only knows he showered because he smelled the mint soap on your skin a few moments ago when you had your mouth attached to his throat.

Now, your mouth swallows his cock whole, throat pulsing around him. He curses, fingers twisting in your hair as he listens to you choke. Feels your drool dripping down his thighs. You relent, pulling back with a slick sound. He looks down at you between half-moon eyes, lashes fluttering.

You’re a vision: bruised lips smeared in spit and cum, chin covered in slick, watery, round eyes that blink up at him, innocent despite the fact that you rub the flushed tip of his cock against your abused mouth.

“Fuck,” he swears, watching your devilish tongue snake out to lap at his dark tip. “Fucking cock hungry, huh?”

You nod your head, trailing your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, taking time to suck slopping kisses to his skin. He can’t look away, even as you pump him lazily with your small hand, ravenous little mouth sucking coyly at his balls.

His fist tights in your hair. You look up, tears spilling over rounded cheeks. You look angelic at that moment, weeping before him. He nearly busts right there.

“Does Kitty like when I do that?” You ask softly, voice almost a whisper. Your voice changes, he’s noticed. Sometimes coming out dark velvet, other times tangerine-sweet. “Am I a good girl, Kitty?”

You always call him that. He wasn’t sure about it at first, but with a mouth full of his precum and neck covered in his teeth marks, Yoongi thinks you can call him whatever the fuck you want. He’s never seen a creature so drunk off fucking him before and he’s no better. All he wants to do is fucking live in you.

“Such a good girl,” Yoongi promises. He holds your head with one hand and your chin with the other, pulling your bottom lip down with one thumb. His touch is soft and reverent. You preen for him, smiling around his thumb as he slips it in your mouth and presses on your tongue. Feels the spit and god knows what else there. “Come on, baby. Suck.”

And you do. Yoongi’s eyes roll back in his head. He falls backward on his bed and it feels like he has passed through a portal to somewhere else. He floats. All he knows is your mouth, unforgiving. Your tongue, sinful.

And when Yoongi comes down your throat, and when you pull off of him and smile at him with the slow drip of it, Yoongi feels like he’s in fucking heaven.

-

Monday he calls out of work.

Crunching numbers at an accounting firm seems like hell in comparison to where he is now. You’re bent over the kitchen counter, drooling on the granite as he slowly drags his cock through your drenched heat. He ignores the spilled glass of water next to you. Instead, he watches himself disappear deep into your cunt, collecting cream on the base of his cock every time he pulls out.

Yoongi senses you looking at him. You are, eyes intense and heavy. Your gaze shifts so often he can barely keep up – thinks maybe he imagines the way you go from soft, round-eyed sweetheart to a siren-eyed vixen.

It’s the vixen look at him now. And as though you can read his mind, you slick your tongue out of your mouth, bubble gum pink and eager, eyes dragging down to where he works himself in and out.

Yoongi pulls out slowly, running a finger along your arousal smeared along his shaft, and leans forward, thrusting in hard. You pant, tongue still out and eyes focused on his as Yoongi delicately places his cum-slick finger in your mouth. Presses your cream on your tongue.

Your lips close around his finger, tongue swirling around the digit as you shut your eyes and hollow your cheek, gently sucking your arousal until there’s nothing left.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers, in awe of you.

And you are. There’s nothing you won’t do for him. Nothing Yoongi won’t do for you. So he slams into you, deep deep deep, and grunts until you’re coming around him for what feels like the hundredth time since he’s met you.

-

Yoongi startles awake. He blinks away a dream that he immediately cannot remember. His skin is clammy and his sheets stick to him all over. He kicks them off, heart hammering as he jumps to his feet, trying to get away from the bed.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels danger near him with every slam of his heart.

For a few moments, he’s in total darkness. He can’t make out the shape of his dresser. Or the pile of clothes in the hamper. He can’t see any light filtering through the window. He knows there’s a streetlight out there – why isn’t the light streaming through his curtains?

Panic threatens to seize him. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing fiercely. He opens them, bursts of starlight blinding him until they fade finally and he can see.

There’s a shadow in front of him, all razor teeth and red eyes.

Yoongi screams, flinching backward. He topples over and feels weightless like he’s falling through time and space. The moment of fear stretches out long – too long – and for a second he thinks he will die. His heart is beating too hard in his chest, his mind is screaming too loud, and the adrenaline threatens to crack him open and spill out on the floor.

He hits the curtain behind him and fists the fabric, ripping the entire rod and holders down backward as he goes. Streetlight pours into the room. He thrashes, blind and screaming among the now ruined curtains, the curtain rod, and drywall dust.

Yoongi frees himself, grabbing the rod to defend himself against the creature in a last-ditch effort to live.

Grey light saturates the room. There’s no shadow creature with teeth and red eyes. There’s just you in the middle of his bed, the reflection of the street light turning your doe-eyes to glowing coins. You’re in a t-shirt of his, soft and crinkled, hair messy. Lip trembling.

“Kitty?” Your voice is small. Almost childlike. “Kitty are you okay?”

The panic beat of his heart slows. He swallows down nausea and realizes his shaking, the remaining waves of adrenaline taking their toll. Yoongi lets go of the curtain rod and nods, pressing his head into the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. Throat dry. You move on the bed – more of a prowl – and you flick the lamp light on. Warmth rushes into the room and with it, relief. “Thank you.”

“What happened, Kitty?”

“A nightmare. I got up and … I don’t know. I thought I saw something.”

You sit on your knees. Hands in your lap, one palm splayed on your thigh, the other lifted toward him. Beckoning. Open. Warm. Safe. He peels himself from the wreckage by the window and walks toward you, feeling as though there is a string between you and him, tethering you to him. Reeling him in.

When Yoongi’s hand touches yours, exhaustion bleeds into him. Safe. He is safe. You smile and there are no razor teeth. Just kiss-stained lips as you shuffle backward, pulling Yoongi back into the bed.

“Come sleep, Kitty.”

“Okay.”

Carefully, he turns off the lamp. The streetlight floods his room now, but it’s comforting, the grey wash of the world enough that he can see anything creeping in the shadows.

Eventually, he falls back asleep with the slow drag of your hand back and forth across his forehead, and your mouth pressing gentle sucks to the side of his throat.

-

“Where are you going?”

Yoongi almost smiles at the pout on your face. You stand in his kitchen, brows pinched, mouth furious. You’re in another one of his shirts – there is nothing else for you to wear. His grin spreads as he comes around the counter, placing his messenger bag down.

Somehow you seem so much smaller in the daylight. Yoongi swears when you’re riding him in the early hours of the morning or when he has you on all fours fucking you deep into his mattress, you’re a force to be reckoned with. A fierce creature feeds on carnal pleasure only.  

But now in the light of day, with your bottom lip jutting out and scowling brows, Yoongi thinks there is nothing more adorable. His perfect baby. You reach out, opening and closing your hands and he laughs.

“Work,” he answers gently, pulling you toward him. You don’t fight him. You never fight him. Yoongi is always your top priority – you’ve made that obvious. He smells the cedar. Jasmine. Amber. His head swims and for a moment, he forgot what you asked.

Moments like this with your skin touching, that high-frequency current that is unfamiliar but feels so good – Yoongi forgets himself. Every time he touches you, he’s somewhere else.

His phone rings and he remembers he’s supposed to leave. “I have work.”

Your scowl gets worse. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want to be with you.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he pulls away, you’re almost snarling, gripping him like iron. He sighs and squeezes your hips for reassurance. “I’ll leave a little early, yeah? For you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” Your lip wobbles and he leans forward again, nipping you. “Get some sleep. You woke me up very early this morning, hmm?”

You don’t answer, but you loosen your grip.

When he gets in the car, he sees the curtain in his living room shift and he grins. Cute.

-

Work drags. Yoongi’s in a bad mood. His coffee is extra bitter. The water tastes off. The fluorescents in his office are too bright, prompting him to turn them off. When he begins auditing his client’s monthly spending, the numbers swim on screen.

Yoongi takes his glasses off. Puts them back on. He swears that he sees symbols and that the screen glitches, flashing between letters and numbers and… something he’s unsure of. When he rubs his eyes, the screen is just numbers in an Excel sheet.

Sighing in defeat, he glances at the clock. It’s only been an hour.

“Fuck.”

He pulls his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen. Your contact information is in his phone, right? The silence in his office is deafening. It presses in on him as he stares at his phone, unseeing. Why didn’t he have your phone number? Shouldn’t a boyfriend have their-

A knock at the door startles him. He drops his phone, mumbling an apology as he bends down to get it before righting himself and looking at his director.

“How are you feeling?”

Yoongi shrugs. “A little off.”

And… it’s true. Yoongi’s head hurts suddenly, a migraine slamming on the confines of his skull. His too-bitter coffee burns in his stomach. The back of his neck feels too hot and his hands shake as he puts his phone on his desk.

“You don’t look too well. Maybe take the day?”

Yoongi nods. Sways a little when he stands up to retrieve his things and turns his computer off. On the drive home, the headache recedes a little. He grips the wheel tight, taking deep breaths as he tries to steady the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

In the drive, Yoongi takes a deep breath. The pressure in his head is gone and his stomach doesn’t feel as rotten as it did twenty minutes ago. He makes a mental note to look up his symptoms when he gets inside – perhaps he has the flu. It won’t do to feel this way before his client’s quarterly financial reports are due.

Thankfully, when Yoongi steps into his house, he feels much better.

Feels fine as he drops to his knees in the entryway, tongue buried hungrily in your cunt as he presses you hard against the door, drinking in every drop. Above him, you tremble and cry, begging him never to leave again.

When you cum on his tongue, creamsicle sweet, he thinks he never will.

-

Pain shoots up Yoongi’s foot as he stubs his toe making his way to the bathroom. He can barely see in his room now that he has fixed the curtains – and put blackout ones at your request – and the floor is covered with his shoes and chargers and boxes of snacks you keep in his bedroom like a nest.

He has never in his life seen someone with an appetite for junk food like you – especially sweets.

Yoongi opens the bathroom, the gentle, white glow of the night light casting a dull halo against the whitewash walls. He glances in the mirror and his heart launches into his throat. His hand slams against the door for balance and a moment of terror bleeds him dry when he sees the shadow behind him, white teeth flashing and red eyes.

Whirling around, Yoongi’s hand shoots for the light, painfully jamming fingers against stucco. He manages to flip the switch while his heart pulses in his throat, terror working its way through him like an injection straight into his cardiovascular system.

Light spills into the room, so bright that he flinches, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them, there’s nothing. It’s just his messy room, covered in clothes, empty and half-full bottles of lube, a generous amount of junk food, and you.

Asleep. Soft against his pillows, lips parted slightly.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Yoongi chastises himself and shuts the bathroom door. A few splashes of cold water from the tap do the trick, calming him down and cooling the red splotches of anxiety blooming on his neck.

When he returns to bed, your hands seek his warmth, making grabbing motions even in sleep. He indulges you, sliding closer. Tucking you into his chest. You hum in your sleep, that vibrating feeling that lives just under your skin ever-present.

Gently you lean forward, mouth seeking as you press your lips against the soft spot under his ear. He shivers as the innocent kiss turns into a soft suckle, pulling skin between teeth your tongue pressed against his flesh. But you don’t wake up. You seem content to lay in his arms with the gentle pull of your mouth against his skin, smelling like cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

And he falls asleep, moment of terror forgotten.

-

Yoongi has a problem.

Time management was always one of his strong suits. As someone who lived an organized little life in an organized little home, he thrived on order, repetition of days, and knowing what to expect each day.

Except now Yoongi never remembers what day it is. He hardly remembers how he spends his day. But what he does remember are moments with you. Bodies against bodies. The press of his fingers in your sticky cunt. Your curious fingers, pressing into the tight rim of his ass, pulling out orgasms so deep that it takes him hours to move.

Now, you’re pressed against him on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV. He watches you and you watch the screen, completely focused on the world of Spirited Away. His lips twitch in a smile and he yawns. You snuggle closer to him, nearly attached. It’s second nature to you, to fasten yourself to him. He doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When Yoongi’s phone rings, it interrupts everything. You immediately hiss, looking toward the ringing device on the counter. He can’t remember the last time his phone rang but he begins to lift himself off of the couch.

Your fingers dig in. “Finish the movie.”

It’s a demand. He laughs as your brow pinches. “I’ll be right back, let me just see who it is.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie with me?”

Your voice has grown small again. Not the sultry purr he is used to in the middle of the night when you mouth at his cock, hard before he’s even awake. Not the demanding crack of a whip when you order him to come.

This voice is tiny, a soft thing that immediately draws him to look at you. He cradles your face, your big eyes looking at him with tears rimming them. His stomach drops and he hushes you, thumbs brushing back and forth.

“Fuck – baby why are you crying?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie, Kitty?”

“Hey, Kitty wants to watch the movie.” He croons and you pull yourself into his lap, arms going around his neck and winding in his hair. He keeps a soft grip on your face, eyes searching. That thrum is just beneath the surface, like a beating heart. “I just have to answer the phone, baby. I still want to watch the movie.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.”

“Of course I do.”

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. But ever since he’d started working from home – wait, he works from home? He shakes the question from his thoughts, saving it for later.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. And now you sit on his lap and he hates himself for the way a tear slips down your face, turned into a diamond from the reflection of the TV.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, heart aching in his chest. He leans back. He pulls you flush against his chest. You tuck your face in his neck, your favorite spot to nuzzle and he feels the gentle tuck of your mouth, the tiny suckle of your teeth against his neck. Your comfort.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely -

He doesn’t remember. What was he thinking about? He doesn’t know.

Yoongi loops his arms around you and squeezes you tight. And his eyes flutter shut, suddenly tired and lulled to sleep by the gentle pull of your mouth on his skin.

-

“Come look at this cat,” Yoongi laughs, crouching down on the back porch. The tabby rubs itself between his legs, purring as it twists figure eights. “It’s so friendly, baby. Come say hi.”

Night sky stretches over the city. It’s colder outside – almost Halloween, maybe. Yoongi lost the calendar in his house and he only turns the computer on if he has to sign on for work, which he rarely does these days.

You peek from the door, looking at the cat rubbing its face on Yoongi’s hand. He looks up at you and smiles. You’re swimming in a sweater of his, though your legs are bare. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you again – he can’t ever get enough, licking the sweetness from between your thighs only to finish by fucking himself into you until he blacks out.

The blackouts happen more after sex now.

“He’s sweet,” Yoongi promises, holding out another hand to you. “Like you.”

Tentatively, you step outside of the door. The floorboard creaks under your step, drawing the cat’s attention. It happens so fast that Yoongi falls from his crouched position, sitting abruptly on the floor. The cat lets out a terrible sound, somewhere between a horrible yowl and a hair-raising hiss.

A blur of claws and teeth, Yoongi yells as the sharp talons catch him, letting the cat go. It becomes a streak of fur and screeching, vanishing from the yard.

You rush to him, dropping down to hold his scratched hands, blood surfacing.

“No!” You look up at him, holding his hand gently to your chest. He feels the strange hum, the heartbeat that… isn’t a beating heart as much as a constant buzz. “Are you okay, Kitty? You’re hurt.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles. The fear in your eyes is heartwarming. You love him – he knows this. He feels it. “Sorry it startled you.”

-

Autumn sun beats down on Yoongi as he goes to peel logs from the stack of firewood in the backyard. As he jogs down the steps, he slows, frowning. There’s a dead tabby at the foot of the stairs, broken body and dark blood smeared underneath.

“Weird,” he mutters, rushing to get some firewood. “I’ve never seen cats here before. Poor thing.”

When he goes back inside the house, he sees you sitting on the counter. Spread. Finger tracing up and down glistening folds, swollen cunt begging for his mouth. Yoongi drops the wood. He zeros in, licking his lips as you spread your legs a little wider.

“What a perfect fucking pussy,” Yoongi grins. “That for me?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi forgets about the dead cat.

-

“I want candy.” Yoongi looks up at you, brows raised. You’re standing in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store, chewing your bottom lip as you look at him with hopeful eyes. Yoongi immediately softens. Feels his heart flutter. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” He looks up at the aisle names. “It’s three aisles over. Can you get what you want while I go back and get milk? I forgot.”

You hesitate for a moment, a moment of fear on your face. Before he can brush away your fears with a simple kiss, you take a deep breath and give him your bravest smile. He preens, proud as you give a confident nod and dart off in the direction of candy.

Yoongi is impressed by you. Leaving the house is hard for you – always has been. The two of you mostly stay inside, locked in your little world. Yoongi likes it that way. Loves knowing after dinner you’ll be nested on the couch, watching him with inquisitive eyes and asking him to put on a new show or to continue the anime you’ve been binging.

Every new experience for you brings stars to your eyes. He loves that about you – loves the way you go awestruck while watching old anime that Yoongi adores, or the way you hum and spin in circles to music he shows you.

Yoongi remembers hearing once that people live many lives. He thinks that if that’s true, you must be in your first life, curious about everything. Surprised by the world. And he gets to watch it over and over, the way you grin when something startles you or when you furiously pout because you don’t like something.

Grocery store trips are new for you. The first time, you’d been stitched to his side, refusing to separate from him. Cagey and flashing mean eyes at everyone. Now, though, Yoongi doesn’t worry as he pulls open one of the glass doors in the cold section, looking for milk.

“Yoongi?” He turns mid-reach for a carton of milk, the cold air hitting him in the face and turning his cheeks pink, glass frosting with the humidity rushing into the fridge. Taehyung is standing behind him, hands shoved into pockets. “Holy shit it is you.”

Yoongi gives Taehyung a funny smile, pulling the milk from the fridge and adding it to his cart. “Why wouldn’t it be? How are you?”

“Dude, how are you? You don’t answer anyone’s calls, I heard you started working at home from some sort of illness, and you refuse to answer your door when we come by.” Taehyung’s face is picture-perfect concern, brown eyes fixed on Yoongi, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Why can’t you tell us what’s going on? It’s been weeks.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to you two weeks ago.”

Taehyung cocks his head. His brows furrow and an unsettling feeling flips Yoongi’s stomach. He remembers the call exactly. Recites their conversation back to Taehyung, but before Yoongi can finish, his friend is shaking his head.

“We never had that conversation, Yoongi.”

Taehyung takes a step closer. Yoongi’s heart starts pounding. He remembers talking to Taehyung. He had been standing in the kitchen when his phone rang, and you had handed him his phone. Yoongi remembers because he had been half-paying attention to the conversation, transfixed by the way your eyes caught the light and the way you watched him catch up with Taehyung.

But… another thought swirls in Yoongi’s mind. A vision of you slamming the phone down on the counter, shattering it. Yoongi begging you to stop – stop something ­– and then your soft lips on him.

He shakes his head, setting the thoughts free.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asks, moving past his cart to get closer. Yoongi backs up. He doesn’t know why, but it’s automatic. He feels panic surge as Taehyung pauses. “Are you sick or-“

Maybe he is. Yoongi knows he talked to Taehyung and yet… doubt wiggles into his mind. Eats at it like a worm. There feels like there is a box somewhere tucked in the recesses of his memory, shielded and without a key. If he applies pressure on it, he gets a headache.

Licking his lips, Yoongi places his trembling hands on the cart. Looks at Taehyung. Sees the pleading in his friend’s eyes. Yoongi opens his mouth to ask when Taehyung thinks they last spoke and -

“Kitty?”

Your soft voice cuts the anxiety in half. Yoongi’s thoughts ease as you appear a few feet away from them, bags of candy in hand. Your doll face morphs into unease when you look at Taehyung. Yoongi wonders why that is – you’ve talked to Taehyung plenty of times. You encourage Yoongi to call him.

“You?” Taehyung asks. The vehemence in his voice startles Yoongi. “You’re still around? Jesus Yoongi, have you been shacked up with some girl you met at a bar this entire time?”

Words have consequences. Taehyung’s immediately has an effect, your expression going from soft and sweet to something that makes Yoongi’s hands grip the push-bar on the cart tightly.

“He has nothing to do with it.” Your voice is a layered hiss. A tingle slides down Yoongi’s neck – familiar and dangerous. He has the sudden urge to bolt, but his feet are rooted to the ground as you advance, putting yourself between the two men. “Yoongi hasn’t been feeling well. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I’m one of his best friends!”

Taehyung is one of his best friends. And Jimin. And Seokjin. Yoongi remembers sitting on a stool at Serendipity, listening to Old Ass Han tell him some superstition about female demons who snatched one of his sons in the middle of the night. Jimin had laughed so hard and made Old Ass Han so mad that Jimin covered his tab for the night.

It was such a funny memory that the next Halloween, Jimin had dressed up as a sultry, female demon. Yoongi vaguely recalls laughing with them into the night, especially when Jimin picked up a guy to go home with that night.

Yoongi is full of those memories – at least he was. He thinks he is.

The little place in his mind that feels inaccessible cracks a little and Yoongi winces, a headache splitting him open. He clutches his temple as a bolt of pain lances through his skull. Then your hands are on him, gentle and cradling his face. You’re saying something but he can’t hear you over the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Colors dance across his vision as Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pant through the pain. The pain doesn’t come from that tiny little box in his mind – it comes from somewhere else. Pulling him away from whatever is hidden there, in that dark little forgotten corner.

Suddenly, it becomes too much and darkness swallows him whole.

The last thing Yoongi remembers is the gentle kiss of your mouth on his neck.

-

Yoongi has a problem.

He’s getting headaches all the time. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night with them, sharp pain digging behind his eyes. It always worsens when he tries to recall the dreams he has before he wakes up – he knows he has dreams. They’re on the tip of his tongue. But the more he thinks about them, the more he tries to draw up what he imagined, the more the pain grows.

The bed sinks as you crawl in next to him. It’s too hot in bed. Sheets cling to Yoongi’s skin. He feels like there’s a furnace under the mattress, burning through and making everything sweaty and sticky. He shifts a little away from you – your body is always warm, skin heated with the thrum of energy beneath the surface.

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber. Your scent swells as you tuck yourself close to him. Not touching, but Yoongi can sense you there, an awareness tingling along his skin. It’s happened a few times, where a second awareness blinks an eye open and Yoongi feels on edge. Like there is suddenly an instinct inside of him that has awakened, one he is unfamiliar with.

That awareness yawns. Blooms at the back of his mind, where that same throbbing ache has settled. Yoongi tries to steady his breathing, but he can feel his pulse against his pillow, thumping faster and faster as your cloying scent muddles his thoughts.

You don’t say anything. You don’t reach out and touch him. You just lay there, silent and omnipresent. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, and for the first time in a very long time, he wishes that you would go to the other room and watch TV. You love watching TV. Sometimes he finds you sitting in front of it on the floor, knees tucked to your chest, chin on top of your knees while you watch a variety of shows.

Though it seems you have settled on Tokyo Ghoul as your favorite.

“Kitty?” you whisper. He holds his breath. Perhaps if he pretends he is asleep, you’ll go to sleep too. Long beats of silence stretch between you, filled only with the sound of Yoongi’s measured breathing. “I’m sorry.”

He pauses. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Yoongi swallows past a knot in his throat. Every muscle in his body is clenching. His fingers are fisted in his blankets, and he’s curled into a ball. He doesn’t remember feeling so braced. He tries to relax, letting himself melt in the bed a little.

“For what?”

“You… need space.”

He doesn’t need to turn around to hear the tremble in your voice. You sniffle a little. The lamp on his bed flickers, catching his attention. He watches the flicker of the bulb as you cry softly behind him. He wants to turn around – wants to gather you in his arms and tuck you into his chest and yet… he doesn’t.

“A little,” Yoongi admits softly.

“Okay.”

Licking his lips, Yoongi steels himself. He rolls over in bed to look at you. You’re buried in one of his hoodies and the blanket he likes to sleep with on the couch. He can barely make out your cherubic face. Your round eyes blink at him, pools of light in the darkness of the hoodie and blanket.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Okay.”

He softens. It’s not so warm in the bed anymore, so he reaches across the space, finding your hand clutched in the blanket. You let him pry your fingers open and he traces your palm. “Just a little space, okay? I can sleep on the couch tonight.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Baby-“

“I’m not tired.”

Your voice is firm. He knows that voice – it’s the one that precedes a tantrum if he’s not careful. He nods, pulling a hand away and sighing, closing his eyes. He is tired. He realizes just how tired he is.

“Good night, Kitty.”

-

Most days it’s easier to placate you.

Yoongi feels like he is worn at the edges. Hot water runs down his neck, his back. Relieves a deep ache that has begun to grow on his bones, pained turned lichen. He feels like a watercolor painting with too much liquid medium, running at the edges and blurring across a once-beautiful canvas.

Sleep comes every night, but Yoongi still wakes up tired. He misses meetings even though he has been working from home for… however long. He doesn’t know where his cell phone is. He lost it somewhere in the house – doesn’t need it much.

Water drips onto the floor as he steps out of the shower. He watches it run down milky legs, soaking into the towel. Steam permeates the air and slicks across the mirror, Yoongi’s reflection as opaque and bleary as he feels.

Yoongi heaves a heavy yawn, wiping a hand across the steam in preparation to shave. When his eyes look up at the three-paneled mirror, a shadowed creature with rows of gnashing teeth and red eyes is behind him.

A scream rips its way out of his throat, the terror is so awful that Yoongi’s knees buckles. He hits the tile hard, head smacking the cabinet. His world explodes into color as he blinks the stars from his eyes, scrambling with damp legs, slipping uselessly on the steamed tile as he backs himself into the corner of the wall and sink.

There’s nothing there. Just an open doorway.

For a few seconds, it’s just Yoongi’s heart pounding so hard that his stomach roils. He fumbles for the toilet, flipping the lid and rolling to his knees to heave the contents of dinner into the bowl. He gasps for air, stinging his vomit-burned throat as he throws up again. Stomach-churning. Lungs screaming.

When he flushes and settles against the bathtub, he hears the TV in the living room. Cool air drifts in from his bedroom. He closes his eyes and takes in deep breaths, counting in for seven and out for seven. There’s the soft patter of your feet on the carpet, and he can sense you in the doorway.

His spine always tingles when you’re around.

“Kitty? Are you okay?”

“Don’t feel good.”

“Oh kitty,” you whisper. He keeps his eyes closed. You slide closer to him and your hands are warm. When they touch his face, he feels a little energy pour back into him and he opens his eyes. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, still. “I’m sorry.”

“Why sorry?”

You chew on your lip. “I’m sorry.”

It feels like you say that a lot these days. Yoongi nods his head and closes his eyes again as you lean forward and press yourself to his side, giving him a gentle kiss.

-

The headache is bad. But he has to know. Lays in his bed writhing in the sheets.

Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts.

Memories crack across his mind, each one hurting more than the last.

A creature of shadow. Blacking out after sex. A dead cat that hadn’t always been dead. Your innocent eyes. Your angry eyes. You smashing his phone to pieces. A doctor forging him a medical note. Blood on your hands and face as you came out of the doctor’s office.

-

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi has energy. He feels more himself. Clearer. He gets up early in the morning and makes himself coffee. He sees you lurking near the fridge, throwing him wary glances. You’re a little more worn than usual: sallow cheeks, bags under your eyes. Your eyes are as starry.

When he asks you what’s wrong, you don’t answer. You duck into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind you. He stares, a little confused and hurt before sighing. You’re touchy sometimes, and on the days like this where you’re more like a feral cat than a preening girlfriend, he knows to keep his distance.

Yoongi shrugs and tosses the sugar packet in the trash, frowning. There are empty bottoms of foam that are stained red - meat packages, he realizes. He doesn’t recall having steak at all this week, but perhaps you’re thawing it in the fridge for dinner.

He shrugs and goes to his office, leaving you to your devices.

A morning meeting kickstarts his day, and Yoongi forgets about it.

-

Yoongi has a problem.

You’re worse. You don’t want to come out of his room and you won’t go near the light. There are harsh lines around your eyes and he swears your teeth are sharper. More lethal. You won’t sleep in the same bed as he is.

Worst of all? Yoongi feels great. Feels like perhaps it was just a depressive episode he was in. He no longer feels like he is melted together at the edges, barely hanging on. But it does mean that he’s getting frustrated with you.

“Feral,” he mutters as he walks into his office after you snarled at him and then proceeded to cry because you wanted him to take the day off. “Sometimes I swear she is feral.”

-

Soft lips wake Yoongi up in the middle of the night. He stirs, feeling a tingle run down his spine. He can smell cedar, jasmine and amber and smiles. You’re pressed against him, mouth seeking his delicately, though there is some urgency behind your kisses.

Yoongi opens his mouth to you, an invitation. You suck his tongue into your mouth greedily and arousal shoots to his cock, your mouth doing wonders on his tongue. Fuck he knows you like to suck him off like that too, all greedy and sloppy and spit-slicked.

Your hands pull at his shirt and you kiss him with more fervor, lips becoming teeth, moans becoming hisses. When Yoongi rolls onto his back, pulling your hips on top of him, the dynamic changes.

A gasp escapes his kiss-bruised lips, eyes flying open as you mark his throat. Harsh stings of teeth followed quickly by lavish licks of your tongue. It’s messy and you leave a trail of spit dripping down his neck, making him squirm underneath you, cock tight against his pajama shorts.

“Fuck,” he moans when you suck that spot under his ear he loves. “Greedy devil.”

“Yes,” you shoot back, voice firm. Your hands seek his, pulling them from where they massage your ass to pin them above his head, your grip iron. “Please.”

There’s no way she’s human.

Taehyung’s words flash through Yoongi’s mind when he looks up at you. Your pupils are dilated, two black disks that absorb the barest hint of light in the room. He shivers, afraid of falling into your dark eyes and never finding his way back home.

Have your eyes always been that soulless? No, he thinks.

“Please,” you say again. “Please let me have you.”

He frowns. “You can always have me.”

You shake your head. “Not always. Too much. I take… I take too much. But now not enough. I just…” Your lip trembles and where you hold his wrist begins to ache. He whimpers and you hush him, your fingers loosening a little. “I just need some. Not a lot.”

It’s hard to understand what you’re asking for. Yoongi is lost in the sensation of fluttering in his stomach and the way blood rushes through his body. He feels high when you dip one of your hands below the waistband of his pajamas, taking a hold of his cock in your hand, thumb brushing precum from the tip.

You always take care of Yoongi. His eyes flutter shut as he feels a steady static build in his brain. Your touch is careful but deliberate, each stroke of your hand and squeeze of his shaft sending him spinning. His hips twitch under you.

When you shift down his body, he lifts his lower half off the bed, kicking at the sheets and letting you tug his bottoms down. He’s shaking and eager, unable to look down at you when you take him fully in your hand, tongue tasting the stickiness at his tip.

“Fuck,” he whispers. His hands are still above him, twisted in the pillowcase. He leaves them there, helpless as you tongue the head of his dick before sucking it into your mouth. Your tongue is gentle and your mouth is warm, the barest of sucks making him whine. “Don’t tease me.”

You hum and the vibrations make him speechless. His head rolls to the side, mouth parted, panting as he sees stars. You suck him eagerly, messily. He hears the wet pull of your mouth, the choked cough of your throat when you take him in deep and swallow.

Gentle nails scratch down his legs. He feels like he’s disconnected from the rest of the world, a single strand tethering him as he floats. He babbles as you take him in deep, a hand reaching down below his balls, a single, shy finger pressing against his tight rim.

Everything inside of Yoongi goes taught. He comes immediately and without warning. Spills in your mouth and the world fades away. There is nothing where he goes. No memories, no thoughts, no anxiety. It’s just Yoongi and he feels good – the kind of warm from a bubble bath laden with creams and salts.

Eventually, he comes back down. Opening his eyes, Yoongi sees you blink down at him. You smile, brushing light finger strokes over flushed cheeks. He grins up at you, elated. Hypnotized. You’re so… he doesn’t know the word.

There’s no way she’s human.

That phrase makes Yoongi’s smile falter. You are exquisite. Shrouded in darkness. Yoongi feels the press of unfamiliar air. When he looks beyond you, there’s just darkness. There is nothing. No light streams in from the window again. There is no soft hum of the nightlight in the bathroom where he usually leaves the door open now.

It’s just you.

Yoongi’s heart begins to speed up, panic rising.

You kiss him softly. It’s sweet and his anxiety melts away. Feels the weight of you on your hips, wet pussy dripping on his thigh. You’re being patient, which surprises him. Usually by now you’re needy, grinding your cunt on his thigh to seek friction.

“I want more,” you whisper against his mouth, fingers pressed into his cheeks. “Will you give me more?”

He nods. You lick his mouth, sighing contentedly as you roll your hips on his thigh. He moans, feeling the glide of your bare folds against his leg. You are always so ready for him, eager to take him. Easy to please. Excited to take what you want.

Shaking above him, you bury your face in his neck. Yoongi slides his hands from their position above his head, resting one hand on your thigh and sliding the other between your legs. Sticky arousal greets him, his fingers brushing up and down your cunt as you stop grinding, letting him take control.

“Kitty,” you beg, words muffle in his neck. He grins, eyes half-lidded as he plays with you. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi sinks two fingers in your greedy hole, feeling the way your walls flutter around him. It doesn’t matter how many times he buries his fingers, cock or tongue in you – every time is divine. Feels like something holy, taking him somewhere else.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he murmurs, pressing a thumb to your clit. “Come on, baby. Wanna see you make a mess on my hands first.”

“Want your cock.”

“Fingers first, baby. Come on, you can do it.”

A growl rips through your frame. Yoongi stills under you for a moment, heart skipping. But then you move your hips and he hears your soft breath. Feels the drip down his hand. He grins, feeling you swallow his fingers as you work yourself on him, his thumb circling your clit lazily.

Nails dig into his thighs as you lean backward, spreading yourself for him. He can barely make out your figure in the darkness, but he can see the swell of your chest, the line of your neck as you toss your head back, his name falling from flushed lips and floating up to the ceiling.

When you come, it’s wet and loud. He hums, pulling drenched fingers from your legs. He surges forward, surprising you and moving you backward, letting your head bounce near the foot of the bed as he cages you in, stealing a kiss.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging and whining and rubbing against his thigh again, begging sweetly. No one has ever wanted Yoongi the way you do. Ever. He cannot recall a single time someone has been as vigorous in their pursuit.

It makes him hard again, the rush in his veins igniting once more as he slides into you. He pushes in to the hilt, settling there for a moment. You clench around him, clawing at the back of his neck and thrashing under him. Begging for more. Always wanting more. Swearing you just need a little more.

Yoongi sets a slow pace, stroking deep with a purpose. You gasp every time he fucks all the way into you. He grins against your sweaty neck, tongue licking a stripe up your salty skin. You turn your face and catch his mouth with yours, swapping more spit than kissing, moaning into one another’s mouths.

An orgasm winds tightly in Yoongi’s stomach. He feels it at the base of his spine this time, a second sense tingling as he picks up speed, slamming into you until you’re crying under him, babbling again in something that sounds like a language but isn’t quite.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck –“ He grits his teeth and the moment he comes, you squeeze him like a vice, shouting and pulling him into an orgasm so hard that he feels himself fall on top of you, the energy leaving him as quickly as his orgasm had gathered.

At some point, he falls asleep.

-

Hell on earth is waking up battered and torn at the seams. You’re out in the living room, enjoying an early morning episode of Tokyo Ghoul again. He hears you giggle at the TV and he lifts his head in the shower. The rush of the hot water is loud, but the sound of you laughing is in his head.

It always feels like you’re in his head.

Yoongi stumbles when he gets out of the shower. His feet are heavy and there is pain behind his eyes. The throbbing kind that makes him turn the lights out and shoot a text to work telling them he needs a sick day. How many sick days has he had this year? He has no idea.

Yoongi stumbles to the mattress and collapses into the sheets. Everything feels heavy like he is made of glass bones with the weight of the world threatening to break him.

Sleep comes and goes. It doesn’t make him less tired. Yoongi places a hand on his forehead.  He is not over-warm, but he wants to cry, the ache in every muscle so real that it takes him several tries to say your name.

You appear immediately, hovering at the edge of the bed in his hoodie, wrapped in a blanket.

“Are you feeling sick, Kitty?” He nods and you sniff. “I’m so sorry, Kitty… do you want some water?”

Yoongi nods again and you vanish. He rolls onto his back, groaning. He reaches for his phone. The screen is cracked from some incident or another, but it’s mildly legible as he searches his symptoms online.

When you come back with water, he thanks you with a sweet kiss and smiles when you lick his nose affectionately before darting out of the room again. He hears the show start again.

Carefully, Yoongi tries to sit up a bit. The water is cooled with two cubes – just the way he likes it – and it helps staunch the thirst. He drains the entire glass, but still, he aches with exhaustion that has no name.

Every combination he can think of brings Yoongi undesirable results. He has the fatigue of many different illnesses, but not any of the others. Mono seems the most likely, but still, it doesn’t feel right.

Yoongi considers and then types a new search: constant exhaustion after sex.

The results make him roll his eyes. He knows he’s going to get several ads for erectile dysfunction medication, but he scrolls anyways. Maybe he’s just fucking you that hard. But he does remember blacking out after sex and… well he never feels great the next day.

Slowly tapping through pages, Yoongi sighs. There’s nothing that provides much thought beyond Yoongi knowing he’s had too much sex. You’re a starving little thing, constantly wanting –

A word catches his attention: succubus.

Yoongi snorts when he opens the article. It’s a weird string of evangelical stories and musings, and overly sexualized depictions of female demons with generous breasts, shapely figures, and cute little bat wings.

The succubus needs sexual desire and energy to survive. He scoffs and wonders what heterosexual male wrote that dream.

Repeated sexual activity with a succubus will result in a bond being formed between the succubus and the host.

“Romantic,” Yoongi deadpans, scrolling up to close out the article. But a drawing catches Yoongi’s eye - a shadowy figure with rows and rows of teeth and red eyes. “Huh.”

Clicking on it, the page loads to a Reddit thread. Yoongi curses when he has to download the app, but his fingers move of their own volition, tapping across the screen as he creates a login and reopens the thread.

There are streams and streams of comments and links on the thread, a little overwhelming. As expected, it sounds like most heterosexual men overly-sexualizing women or asking about roleplaying – and yet, there’s a thread with a lot of upvotes that he clicks on.

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures following me. Yoongi licks his lips, feeling his mouth go dry as he continues. Blackouts after sex. Not able to remember life before meeting entity. Dead animals –

“Kitty?” Yoongi flinches, dropping the phone on his stomach, hand covering his chest as his heart pounds in his ribcage. You blink in surprise, cocking your head where you stand in the doorway. A sense of dread draws a slow finger down Yoongi’s spine as he stares at you. “Do you want to come watch with me? We can put on Spirited Away.”

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures-

“Kitty?” Yoongi has waited too long to reply. He nods his head and clears his throat. He wants to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being, shoving the phone away from him as he slowly peels himself out of bed. You grin and hold out a hand. “Thanks.”

-

Like a cat, you’re curled on the couch. Yoongi gives you a wide berth as he walks to his office. Night has passed into morning, and the flash of the screen lights the way as he opens the door, slipping through a tiny crack before he closes it softly and firmly behind him.

While watching movies, Yoongi could not help but think about the thread he had seen. He doesn’t turn the light on, too afraid of it showing under the door and tipping you off where he is.

Fear settles in the pit of his stomach. His hands are shaky as he wakes up the mouse, the computer light nearly blinding in the dark room. He jams the settings on the keyboard, turning it down a bit as he settles into the chair, taking a few breaths.

It feels ridiculous. You’re his girlfriend, not a sex-craving demon. But Yoongi finds the thread again anyways, clicking through and going back to that original subthread of people claiming to have survived an encounter with a succubus.

Time doesn’t seem to pass as Yoongi reads. He leans on his hand, eyes burning as he clicks through story after story.

Met at a bar – she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I never remember going home with her, but my life was suddenly consumed by her. I lost my job and my friends. Felt good at first, but started getting headaches any time I would try to remember something. And she was always around, always lurking around every corner.

Yoongi clicks on to the next one, stomach flipping nervously.

- I ran into a friend and she swore we hadn’t spoken in months. I remember talking to her but it felt like… they were false memories. Like I didn’t really do those things. It was strange, but I forgot again after a while.

Taehyung’s face flashes in Yoongi’s mind. His palms get sweaty as he navigates the mouse, leaning closer toward the screen. A nervous beat starts to drum up in his heart as he pours over the words and the accounts of others.

The evidence is damning, but it can’t be possible, right?

Yoongi thinks of Old Ass Han telling the story of his son being swept up by a she-demon. Yoongi doesn’t think the story is very funny anymore, and the thought of Jimin dressing up as one makes him nauseous.

Carefully, he navigates to another thread.

I was lucky. She didn’t want to kill me, but she was constantly hungry for more energy that I didn’t have. She would get cagey and feral, hissing at me and hiding in the dark, like she was weaker in the sun when she wasn’t fed. I would find packs and packs of meat rotting in the garbage like she was trying to get her fix elsewhere.

I hope that you take this thread seriously. They are real. And while they look and talk like people, they aren’t. They might grow attached to you, but they don’t love you. You are a meal – and if your succubus is only feeding off of sex, it’s only a matter of time before they need more.

Think Jennifer’s Body, people.

Yoongi has never seen that movie before. He clicks away from the thread and pulls up the trailer. It seems a little ridiculous, but he gets the idea. Sex, eat the guy, move on to the next. But you certainly have never tried to eat him.

So Yoongi clicks back to the thread and searches for something new. How to get rid of a succubus.

He leans back while the page loads, switching to a white screen. This bright, the monitor reflects what’s in front of it, Yoongi’s round and tired face, pale from lack of sleep, and a looming shadow behind him. His stomach plummets and he goes rigid in the chair, frozen with fear.

Yoongi smells cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

"Kitty is looking at bad things,” you sniffle. Your shadow grows in the computer monitor and Yoongi swears he sees the white flash of teeth before his world turns red. "I loved you, Kitty."

Lights Masterlist

❀ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer! F. reader

❀ Summary: Meeting Jungkook was a chance of fate. A moment frozen in time, eyes meeting across a room full of lights. The more the two of you advance in your career, the more lost in the lights you become. What if you never find your way back?  

❀ Word Count: 583 and counting

❀ Genre: Heavy angst, Idolverse, strangers to lovers, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Series Warnings: Eventual sexual content, explicit language, substance abuse, toxic relationships, manipulation, drama, and heavy angst, depictions of depression and anxiety. This series will explore concepts of the ‘darker’ side of being famous and being in the music industry. It is not an essay on the culture of idols nor does this attempt to draw some sort of conclusion or comparisons to the real music industry or life of idols. This is just something that was inspired by my re-watch of Gossip Girl and listening to The Weeknd and wanting to write about a toxic relationship between fame and self. 

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This series in no way attempts to paint a realistic depiction of idols, or the industry, or draw comparisons. None of the scenes or elements in this series in any way reflect how I perceive the music industry and do not represent any opinions as a whole. This is not intellectual commentary, it is just straight-up fiction. 

| Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Tag Lists

▷ e p i s o d e   z e r o  . . . p l a y   n o w 

▷ e p i s o d e o n e . . . p l a y n o w

II n e x t e p i s o d e . . . l o a d i n g

Flight Risk (Yoongi x OC)

Summary: Just when you and Yoongi might be becoming friends, you become a liability.

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Angst

Word count: 9.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mature themes - language, smoking, mentions of homophobia, parental abuse, anxiety, dubious consent, sexual harassment

A/N: A very different tone than the rest. Mature themes; read the trigger warnings before proceeding. Set a couple of weeks after A Night Of Firsts.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7

Listen to: "u.r.a. fever" by the kills

yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

The moment Miso wakes up, her stomach squirms in discomfort.

It takes her a few moments to realise why. The sun is bright through the gaps in the curtains and her meticulously-set alarm went off on time. She sits up slowly and brushes her bangs messily off her face, frowning until she hears his voice and her stomach automatically squirms again.

He’s still here. He hasn’t left yet, even though he usually does by now. He’s late and despite not knowing why, Miso feels her chest contract in automatic fear.

She needs to be in the studio in one hour. There’s no option to be late today; Yoongi will have her head. This project is bigger than you, Kang Miso, he will say. She will reply with As long as you don’t take yourself too seriously with a roll of her eyes, he will wrinkle his nose and suggest she work with another producer if she has such a problem with him, and she will be forced to reiterate once more that she was assigned to him and that her assignments are not in her hands. People can’t switch teams of their own accord, Min Suga.

It will go exactly like this. It’s how it goes every time.

Miso stands motionlessly under the shower and then gets dressed, keeping an ear out the whole time for his voice. He still hasn’t left; despite how quiet and calm it is, it’s a sound that can cut through the air for her.

Finally, she has no choice but to descend the staircase, where she pauses midway. She can spot him - both of them - at the dining table, their housekeeper moving silently between them at opposite ends as she serves them breakfast.

His coffee is untouched. Miso exhales shakily; something is wrong.

She shuffles quietly to the open kitchen behind the dining table, uncertain if he’s seen her. His gaze is on his eggs benedict, but that means nothing. There’s a stack of fresh toast and baos straight off the stove on the kitchen counter, steam still rising from them. The rest are at the centre of the table, but Miso takes a plate and takes one of the hot ones when she sees his head move infinitesimally to the side.

No longer having a choice, she moves to the table, taking a seat on the longer side in between both occupants. Heart thumping, she gingerly picks up the bao and bites into it.

“Good morning, Miso.”

His voice is calm as ever, but she almost drops the bao. The steaming filling burns her lip but she stays put, eyes watering slightly.

“Good morning, Father.”

They lapse back into silence. She takes a silent sip of water, taking care to let it soothe her burning lips and glances at her mother. She sits still, her back straight against the chair, her hands clasped on her lap. She stares blankly in her husband’s direction, eyes glassy. Her plate is empty.

Miso can feel goosebumps erupt on her skin. The housekeeper appears behind her and soundlessly pours her a coffee.

“Where were you yesterday, Miso?” Kang Jaesung asks.

“At the studio, Father. At Big Hit.”

“And after that?”

“I went to get a coffee and a sandwich.”

“Where?”

“The new Caffeta coffee outlet. In Gangnam,” she adds.

Her father doesn’t ask anything further. Miso risks a glance at him to see him still eating. A large emerald ring sits on the middle finger of his right hand, and her stomach squirms again.

“Were you alone?”

Before Miso can answer, a soft scoff is heard from the other end of the table.

“Obviously.”

Kang Jaesung ignores this. Miso resists the urge to turn to her mother, knowing she would much rather take her mother’s surface insults over making her father wait for an answer to his question.

“Yes.”

“Did Seungkwan drive you?”

Just like all the questions he’s asked so far, Miso knows he knows the answer to this. He knows everything. It’s just safer to assume that way, because it’s usually the case.

“Yes.”

Her father nods. “Did he drive well?”

Miso’s heart races, for there’s no obviously correct answer to this. “He - yes. Like normal.” Then, in a rare move because she can’t resist, she continues. “Is something wrong?”

“There’s a scratch on the bumper.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. Seungkwan is taking care of it.”

Miso’s eyes flicker to his emerald ring again, the stone looking big and dark in the pastel dining room. She doesn’t know what this means, how to respond to this, or if she’s even meant to.

He finishes his breakfast and dabs his mouth with the napkin, before abruptly standing up and leaving the room. Miso hears the front door close but doesn’t look up from her plate, despite feeling her mother’s burning gaze on her. 

She has about twenty minutes to make it to the studio. Her heart still beating uncomfortably, she leaves the moment she hears her father’s car drive away and heads to her own car, wanting to see this scratch for herself.

The sleek black Range Rover stands in the driveway like always. Even before she reaches the car, she can see the scratch; a small, minute imperfection near the bottom of the bumper. Her father would have noticed it immediately. 

It had to have happened when Seungkwan was parking the car last night, she thinks, as the car leaves the estate, for it was the only time she wasn’t in it. She meets his eyes in the rearview mirror accidentally, a red mark visible on his cheekbone. Miso thinks of the emerald stone on the back of her father’s hand and looks away quickly.

She stares out the window, her chest still tight. Seungkwan has only ever been nice to her, but he’s still her father’s employee. Her movements are watched, and her father isn’t doing so himself. 

The drive is quiet as always. Miso looks out the window and puts on her headphones, no music coming out of it. She needs to be alert, but it’s better to not show it. Her knuckles are white where she’s clutching the strap of her bag until they reach the Big Hit building and the car stops right outside the front doors. She hurries out, eager to put some distance between herself and the fancy car with the uniformed driver.

Miso proceeds in through the glass doors and down the lobby, forcing herself to slow down and walk normally. Seungkwan can still see her, she knows; the reflection of the car is still visible in the glass panes of the building. She walks straight to the lifts and presses the button, holding her breath. She risks a glance over her shoulder to see the car still there, the red cut on his cheekbone discernible even from a distance, his dark eyes directed towards her.

The lift opens and five other people get in with her. Miso shuffles to the back, too wary to exhale in case it’s too loud. She can feel Seungkwan’s gaze in her direction until the lift doors close. One by one, the rest of the occupants get off on their respective floors until it’s just Miso remaining. The moment the lift doors close again, she audibly lets out the breath she’s been holding and bends over, her hands on her knees, and gulps in the air. For the first time since she’s awoken today, her chest loosens a bit.

Her heart slows down slightly as the lift reaches the top floor and when the doors open again, she steps out calmly and makes her way to Yoongi’s studio.

—

Yoongi leans closer to the mic and closes his eyes, concentrating on the music in his headphones and waiting for the beat before he begins his rap verse. He taps the right headphone to the rhythm and begins right on cue, opening his eyes slowly to see someone tapping on the plexiglass of the booth.

He stops abruptly and takes off the headphones. “What is it?” he asks, trying not to sound too disgruntled at being cut off. He wouldn’t ordinarily care but for this track, he cares. The man outside, Jung PD, lead producer in his forties, looks pensive as he motions for Yoongi to come outside. Behind him on the sofa is Hwan, nineteen year old ex-idol, whose forehead creases when the recording of his debut solo gets interrupted.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to Hwan and back to Jung PD, who he knows wouldn’t get involved unless it’s serious. He glances at Hwan again, who’s trying and failing to not look worried. For Hwan, he cares.

“What is it?” Yoongi repeats when they’re outside the studio. “Hyung?” he adds belatedly.

Jung PD bites his lip. “How is Hwan doing?”

“Fine. For a rookie whose group disbanded overnight.” There’s a pause. “What’s wrong?”

“How far along are you on the recording?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at the obvious evasion of the question, but answers anyway. “Close to finishing. Hwan recorded his vocals in one day. He’s extremely talented,” he adds after a moment. “We can be done with editing by tomorrow and Marketing can release it on Friday, just like they planned.”

Jung PD rubs at his eyes tiredly. “Yoongi…” His gaze flickers to the studio behind him, where Hwan is no doubt sitting inside, wondering what the hell is going on out here.

Something catches in Yoongi’s chest. “What?” he whispers urgently.

“We have to scrap the song. I know it’s last minute, but complications have come to light and we have to -”

Yoongi doesn’t realise he’s already shaking his head. “No. No, no. PD nim, this was always the plan! The song releases Friday, and our tour kicks off in Seoul on Sunday!” he whispers furiously. “Hwan is a guest artist and he gets his publicity! After everything he’s been through - come on, we can’t do this to him.”

“Yoongi, I understand. I understand this is important to you - you don’t give the “Prod Suga” suffix to just anyone -”

“Hwan needs this!” Yoongi presses the heels of his palms to his temples. “He took years to debut and then his group disbanded over a scandal that had nothing to do with him - and then YG just abandoned him. I brought him here, I convinced him to join -” He breaks off, shaking his head. “What happened? Why - why do we need to cancel?”

“It’s got nothing to do with Hwan,” says Jung PD, quickly and deliberately. “We will find him something else - he just needs to wait it out a little longer.”

“If he doesn’t have this song, he has nothing,” says Yoongi flatly. “You know that. The company hasn’t officially signed him. This is all on the back of this one song - one song that Miso and I have been working on non-stop for two weeks.”

Jung PD sighs. “About Miso -”

“She’s doing a lot better,” he interrupts frantically. “Forget what I said in our last meeting. It’s - it’s working out now. She wrote most of this song, in fact -” He breaks off, realising he’s rambling. 

“Any way you get her off this project?”

Yoongi frowns incredulously. “No,” he answers, sharper than he’d intended. “Not after she got swindled out of having her name on the Jungwon-Minji collab.” He can’t quite tell Jung PD how hesitantly she’d enquired about her name being credited on the collaboration - and how, after losing out because of award nomination politics, Yoongi hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he’d let her down, even though there wasn’t a lot else he could’ve done. 

“This is her song. Look, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” he asks after a moment. “Maybe there’s a different way around this. Maybe we don’t have to scrap anything.”

“Do you know who Miso’s father is?” Jung PD asks in a low voice.

“I - yes. What does that have to do with -”

“One of his brands is launching a campaign next week - Guasha, a skincare brand,” he says. “They’ve invested a record amount of money on product placement and whatnot and their biggest competition right now is Innisfree, whose brand ambassador is -”

“Hwan.” Yoongi blinks, hoping his hunch is wrong. He clears his throat. “But he owns a hundred brands - why does he care about this one so much?”

Jung PD frowns at him as though he’s missing something obvious. “Because his daughter can’t be seen collaborating with his competition. It’s either her or Hwan. So unless we ask Hwan to break off his contract -”

“We can’t do that.” The words are out of Yoongi’s mouth instantly, even as his heart sinks. He turns to look at the boy through the sliver of glass in the studio. “It’s - it’s his only source of income. We can’t… we can’t. How - how did Kang Jaesung even find out about this collaboration? He’s the only shareholder who’s never given a crap about our releases before.”

Jung PD shrugs. “No idea. Maybe because his daughter is involved? Proud dad and all? Either way, he’s scrapping it.” He scoffs. “I’m sorry, Yoongi. We’ll try to find Hwan something else and if we can’t…” He sighs. “He’s a talented kid. That always matters.”

No, it doesn’t. Yoongi doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need to. He knows Jung PD has definitely seen more talented kids fall through the cracks than he has. YG had been ignoring Hwan, but he still had a contract with them. They could’ve done something for him had Yoongi not convinced him to give Big Hit a chance instead. 

He swallows. “We can make a new song,” he blurts out.

“You’re going on tour, Yoongi,” reminds Jung PD gently.

“Not for almost a week. Worst case, they push the release by a week and he features in our second concert instead of the first. We can still -”

“You have to get approvals, Marketing needs to work on a whole new campaign.” Jung PD shakes his head in sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Yoongi. I’ll speak to Hwan if you want.”

Yoongi screws his eyes shut before opening them and sighing. “No. I should do it. I should talk to him.” He glances back at Hwan again, his slender figure on the sofa, holding up the lyrics sheet and practicing by himself. Yoongi can’t hear him, but he can imagine the sweet, melodic voice that made him shine during his short-lived debut, coupled with his graceful, almost feminine movements on stage. 

“I should talk to him,” repeats Yoongi, feeling sick with guilt. His eyes flicker to the side when he spots a movement and sees Miso step out of the elevator, expensive headphones on her head and striding down the hall without a care in the world, blissfully unaware of the damage being caused by her very presence. “But I need to talk to someone else first.”

They meet halfway, Miso raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement and checking her phone. “I’m here a minute early,” she states dryly.

“Bully for you. Can we talk?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he pushes open the door to an empty studio right next to him and strides in, hearing her footsteps behind him and the door closing. He turns around to see a frown flit across her face momentarily. 

“Is this because I didn’t bring you a coffee this morning?” she quips, folding her arms across her chest. “Because you look way too serious for ten am, Min Suga.”

“Just… stop… talking.” Yoongi’s voice trembles in fury, and he tries to rein it in. “You… your -” He presses his tongue against his teeth, trying to find the words. “Hwan is not getting his debut,” he says finally, quietly. “A kid with more talent than half this building put together, who had a bad, bad hand dealt to him isn’t getting his last, deserved shot… because of Kang Miso, princess of nepotism.”

Miso’s eyes flicker with confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? Why isn’t Hwan -”

“Your father is shutting down the song,” he snaps, taking a step towards her. “Because a competing brand’s ambassador can’t be associated with his precious daughter’s music. You wrote one song in your whole life, sitting in your fancy fucking mansion while being waited on hand and foot. Hwan is the oldest of four siblings. He has only one parent left, and he’s trained until his feet bled to be able to provide for them! And now he can’t because of -”

She swallows but doesn’t move. Even through his anger, Yoongi can tell she had no prior knowledge of this. But he doesn’t care. They’re only inches apart; he can see her shock and realisation all at once, but the way she holds his gaze makes him take a step back.

Miso licks her lips slowly. “What do you want me to do about it, Yoongi?” she asks quietly. 

“Fix it.”

“I can’t. My father is -”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He takes another step back, resisting the urge to grab her by her thin shoulders and make her look him in the eye. “Your rich people's problems aren’t going to take this away from Hwan, or from me. Fix it,” he repeats. “Say whatever you need to to get your father’s head out of his arse or - you know what? I want you the hell off my team.”

She swallows and shakes her head. “Yoongi, you - you know I was assigned to -”

“If your father has the power to take away someone’s big break to satisfy his ego, he has the power to get you reassigned.” He ignores how she blinks rapidly, how her previously straight shoulders are hunched, how the guilt seems to expand in his chest for a moment. “I don’t want to see you in my damn studio ever again.”

He turns around and yanks the door open, stalking out and leaving her alone in the dark.

—

Miso doesn’t see Yoongi for the rest of the day. She doesn’t even try to seek him out; not once has he ever lost his temper with her like that and she has no idea how long it takes for him to cool down from something like this. She does see Hwan in the break room and darts away before he sees her, ducking into Donghyuk’s studio and desperately hoping he has some work for her today.

Around lunch time, she calls Seungkwan and he drives her to the last place she wants to be at, but the only one she can think of going to right now.

Kang Industries looks as intimidating as its owner, and just as impenetrable. The inside of the sprawling building is glass and stone, giving it the aura of a modern day tech prison. She takes the elevator all the way to the top floor and to the corner office; despite having been here only once in her whole life, she remembers it with striking clarity.

Her heart thumps against her ribcage as she nears it, spotting her father through one of the glass walls. He’s standing with three other men, all of them speaking while he stays silent, nodding only occasionally.

For a moment, Miso feels like turning around on the spot and running away. Let Yoongi hate her. She’s handled worse. But then, almost as if he’s heard her, Kang Jaesung’s eyes dart lock onto her. The impact of it makes her reel and she immediately lowers her gaze.

At the same time, his secretary spots her from the desk outside the office. She scrambles to her feet instantly and hurries towards Miso.

“Oh, Miss Kang!” she exclaims in surprise, seeming a bit flustered. “Please, uh - have - have a seat. I’ll inform your father that you’re -“

“It’s okay, I can wait until he’s -“

“Nonsense!” she interrupts in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll tell him his daughter is here and his meeting -“ She glances towards the room in a panic, and Miso can tell that she’s conflicted about which might be more important to him.

Fortunately, her speaker crackles to life just then.

“Send her in.”

The secretary exhales in transparent relief. “Right this way, Miss Kang.” She ushers her to the door of the office, just as it opens from the inside. One of the men, who she knows works for her father, is holding the doorknob while two others sit inside in similar-looking dark brown suits, facing her father’s desk.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Her father’s voice is calm but firm. “We will have to take a short break. My daughter is here.”

Both men seated turn to look at her and the younger one, dressed sharply with perfectly styled hair and an air of arrogance, raises an eyebrow. He turns back towards her father, presumably to argue, but something makes him stop. In spite of herself, Miso can empathize. 

Kang Jaesung waits patiently and says no more, until all three of the men file out. The youngest one, in the brown suit, brushes against her as he leaves. His eyes land on her and narrow, clearly insulted at being deprioritised. Miso looks away, waiting until they leave to step inside.

“I’m sorry for not calling ahead, Father.” She clears her throat, hoping her voice will stop shaking. Her father doesn’t generally respect underconfidence - or confidence, making it a fine line she needs to toe in order to appeal to him. “I - I can wait outside until you’re done with your meeting.”

“My daughter can’t be seen waiting here,” he supplies, typing something onto his phone and taking a seat behind his desk. “It’s bad for the family. It’s the only reason your mother shows up here on occasion.” His eyes flash with something and Miso realises with an uncomfortable twist in her stomach that he’s just made a joke.

Unsure whether she’s meant to react, she shuffles slightly and places her hands behind her back, standing straight. Her heart is beating too loud now, loud enough that she’s sure he can hear it.

“My time is too valuable to waste, Miso.”

“Of course.” She clears her throat again. “Father, I…” It will do no good to beat around the bush. It occurs to her now that her father knew this morning at breakfast that he was shutting down this release, which could have been the reason he’d stayed late. Her gaze falls to the emerald stone on his finger again and Seungkwan’s bruised face flits through her mind.

“I wanted to talk to you about… about the song that Big Hit is planning to release on Friday. By Hwan, produced by Suga of BTS. Written by me,” she adds after a moment. Her father observes her motionlessly, and his gaze feels piercing. “I heard that - that you’re unhappy with it and you… you don’t want it released. I would like to ask you to reconsider.”

His gaze is unmoving. “Why?”

Miso thinks about the list of reasons Yoongi had hissed at her and mentally throws them in the bin. Her father won’t care less about Hwan’s family situation or anyone else’s career.

“It’s produced by and featuring a BTS member. They are kicking off their world tour this weekend and have this song on their setlist already, meaning this song is going to be streamed all year. It will generate a lot of revenue for the company.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Every song this label puts out is streamed all year. That’s why I invested in it. Is that it?”

“Um -” She exhales shakily. Nothing else she’d rehearsed all morning comes to mind anymore. “I’m a writer,” she confesses quietly. “I - I wrote this song, most of it. It’s the first time I will ever be credited on a song.” Please don’t take this away from me. Not again.

Her father stares at her for a moment and finally shifts, leaning back in his chair for a moment. He crosses his legs and places his hands in his lap, his jaw sharp. “What do you think will happen if my daughter’s name is on a song that’s marketed under the name of a competing brand ambassador? Have you thought about that?”

“Nobody reads the names of the writers on a song,” she reasons. “No one - no one will care. It’s just… I wrote it. It’s just my name on a piece of paper inside the CD, in tiny font.”

“Your name,” he says clearly, “is my name. And my name is going to be nowhere near a man like that, who dances with other men and wears clothes like a woman.” He clicks his tongue and his upper lip rolls in a sneer. “Celebrating a man preening over his skincare. The depths this country is sinking to…”

Miso holds her tongue, privately thinking that she should’ve guessed that her father’s problem extended to more than just competing brands. Hwan - beautiful, sweet-voiced, ballet-trained Hwan - personally offended Kang Jaesung.

“I’ll take my name off the song,” she offers at last, her heart sinking. “My - your name won’t be part of the release at all.”

He raises his eyebrows. “How noble. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. I’m still a shareholder, so I can’t sign off on it.” He slides a sheet of paper off his desk and begins reading it with disinterest, signalling the end of the conversation.

Miso swallows. “Please,” she pleads softly. “Father, I’ve never asked for anything -” She quells under the sudden look he gives her.

“You’ve never had to,” he states, and for a moment he sounds like Yoongi. “Do you know how people who don’t have everything handed to them go about a situation like this? They offer something in return.” He pauses, watching her stonily. “It’s called a quid pro quo.”

She purses her lips, willing herself to stay calm. The anxiety is bubbling up and threatening to choke her, for she has no idea how to go back to Big Hit now, how to face Hwan… how to face Yoongi. His face burns in her mind, the disgust and lack of respect so clear in his features.

“You see that young entrepreneur out there?” Her father asks, his gaze directly on her. “Don’t look,” he hisses when her head automatically turns. She immediately turns away, catching only a glimpse of the aforementioned entrepreneur’s glare in the direction of this office. “Lee Jiho. He’s an idiot. His name may be on the company, but none of what he has is his doing. His Chief of Strategy is the real brains behind the operation.”

Miso guesses the older person with Jiho is the Chief of Strategy. It takes all her willpower not to turn again.

“Lee Jiho is an idiot, but somehow, he tapped into the right market segment. I want to buy him out,” he declares, leaning back in his chair again. “But he doesn’t want to sell to me. Not at the price I’m asking.”

She nods and lowers her gaze. He’s making a point and the only thing left to do is to hear him out and nod on cue. Her eyes start to sting but it would be a mistake of massive proportions to let her father see her cry. 

“Convince him to sell to me.”

It takes Miso a moment to realise he’s expecting a response.

“Um… you want me to -”

“Any stock price that might fall due to a competing brand will get covered by the savings I make on this purchase.” He shrugs. “Convince him to sell to me and I’ll sign off on your song.” When Miso doesn’t respond, the corner of his mouth rises in satisfaction. “But you don’t think you can do that, do you?”

“Thank you for your time, Father,” she whispers, waiting just long enough for him to acknowledge her before she turns and walks out of his office. She almost bumps into Jiho and his entourage outside, who seem to have been waiting for her to leave, the former giving her a mildly appraising look. His features are sharp and pointed and expensive, his cologne reeking of new money.

“My daughter,” says her father from behind her. Both of them turn to look at him, and Miso doesn’t miss his small raise of the eyebrows towards her. It’s a challenge, one he only proposed because he knew she would back down from it. Kang Jaesung does not lose, ever, and he does not care who he is going up against.

“Miss Kang.” Lee Jiho bows stiffly the same time she does before they shake hands. Up close, he can’t be more than a year or two older than her, but something about the way he looks at her over his slanting nose makes it clear that he’s still miffed over having his meeting interrupted by her presence.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she mumbles before slipping out and hurrying away. She doesn’t stop until she’s out of the building and inside the car, away from her father’s turf. Her chest feels heavier than ever with the knowledge that this trip achieved nothing except putting her job on her father’s radar and giving him the satisfaction of pleading with him for something.

As the car pulls up outside Big Hit, it takes her a few moments to move. Yoongi will be in there somewhere, she thinks, angry and disappointed, with no one to blame but her. Until this morning, the Big Hit building felt like her only haven, the safe place she could go to that did not, for all intents and purposes belong to her father, without drivers and gardeners keeping an eye on her or her mother’s constant judgement following her around.

Kang Miso. Princess of nepotism. He hates her, and she can’t even defend him.

She can’t go inside the building now. The rising fear of what Yoongi might say if he sees her keeps her rooted to the car seat. She wonders when his opinion had started mattering this much to her, when the blazing fire in his eyes as he stood inches away from her had made her want to douse it instead of walking away. 

It’s either Big Hit or Kang Industries. Miso’s stomach rolls; it’s three pm and it occurs to her vaguely that she hasn’t eaten after that singular bao at breakfast. Despite that, she feels like throwing up. Either Yoongi hates her forever, or she risks taking her father up on his deal and potentially failing at it.

The fading bruise around her wrist seems to burn. Failing is not an option, not when it comes to her father. Having Yoongi hate her would be hard, but she can get over it. She remembers how he had offered to drive her home a few weeks ago after they’d spent half the night at his studio. He remained the first and only person in her entire life to extend such an offer without seemingly expecting anything in return, and her surprise at it had visibly confused him.

It’s either Big Hit or Kang Industries.

—

It’s still dawn when Yoongi’s phone rings, jerking him awake.

“What?”

“Come to the studio!” The person at the other end of the call mirrors none of Yoongi’s sleepy annoyance. “Now!”

He groans and rolls over in bed, still in the jeans and t-shirt he’d been wearing all day. “Why? What’s - what’s happening?”

“We’re releasing the solo!” Jung PD’s voice is frantic and forcibly quiet, as though he’s trying to pace himself. “Hwan’s solo!”

Yoongi sits up with a jerk, his head pounding with the whiplash. “What are you -”

“He must have given up his contract with Innisfree,” he says excitedly. “Either way, Marketing just dropped an email - if we can get them the final version by ten pm tonight, they’ll release it on schedule!”

“But -” Yoongi shakes his head and rubs his eyes. “How did - what about Kang Jaesung and his -”

“Fuck him!” Jung PD uses a word he’s never used in Yoongi’s presence before. “Once the song is out there, he can’t do anything about it. For now, we’re in the clear - so get in here! Now!

Yoongi is at the Big Hit building in under twenty minutes. An intern hands him a strong coffee the moment he steps out of the elevator and he sees a group of people assembled outside his studio, comprising Hwan, Jung PD and two assistant producers.

“The smaller the group, the quicker this will go,” explains Jung PD when Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “We have -” He checks his watch “- fifteen hours to get this done.” Next to him, Hwan nods hopefully, wringing his hands in anticipation.

Yoongi nods, making a mental note to tell Namjoon he was right. He hadn’t been as worried as Yoongi yesterday, adamant that these things worked out somehow.

Maybe Hwan will choose his art over his brand deals, he’d said wisely. Some people take that call. Jungkook did.

Yoongi had looked at him incredulously. Jungkook was fifteen! And he took a really stupid risk, all things considered. He’s just lucky it worked out.

We’re all lucky it worked out, Namjoon had pointed out, frustratingly reasonable. Hwan is older, meaning he’ll realise the importance of his work as an artist.

Yoongi had stared at him, lost for words, not knowing how to explain to the philosopher in Namjoon that realising the importance of art and having the freedom to choose it were two very different things.

Miso can’t do anything about this? Namjoon had asked after a minute, making Yoongi’s anger cloud his worry once more.

Fuck her, he’d seethed. This is all her fault. He hadn’t elaborated any further, unable to find the words to explain that for a moment after Jung PD had given him the news, his first instinct had been to defend Miso. Days of working together in a closed studio had facilitated a rapport between them, enough for him to pick up on her hard work and talent, not to mention the lack of boredom that made him sometimes wait for her to arrive in the morning. But none of that compared to just how stupid he felt for forgetting, even for an instant, where she came from. 

He scans the group in front of him again and feels a begrudging satisfaction that she wasn’t called to rush over here. She’s a writer of the song, for better or for worse, and she will be credited. But when it comes to the hustle, to back-breaking hard work that can only be a result of desperation and everything to lose, someone like her has no business being here.

There’s no time to lament about his lapse in judgement, or about how he can’t help but feel a little uneasy at working on Miso’s song without her present. But he powers through, for Hwan’s sake. Hwan, to his credit, gives every last bit of his effort, singing the same lines over and over again without complaining, concentrating on Yoongi’s ad libs, focusing on the arrangements until it’s nearly eight pm, and they finally have their track.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi watches Namjoon and Hoseok, both of whom happened to be in the Big Hit building as well. His eyes are dry and he feels light-headed with fatigue, but his mind is buzzing a million miles a second. He needs this to release tonight, the rest of the weekend will have to be devoted to rehearsals until they take the stage on Sunday night for the first concert of their tour.

“It’s fantastic,” says Hoseok, as the track comes to an end. Behind him, Namjoon nods in agreement.

“Namjoon?”

“He sounds incredible.” Namjoon pats Hwan on the shoulder. “You’ll go far, kid.”

Hwan looks like he could weep with joy as he nods, watery-eyed and sniffling. “What do you think, hyung?” he asks Yoongi, eyes full of hope. “Is it good enough? Do you think they’ll release it?”

“They’ll release it,” confirms Jung PD, entering the studio as he hangs up on a call. “I just got the go-ahead. They can’t shut it down without losing money on all the promotional material, so as long as it passes the audio approvals in the next couple of hours, it’ll be done.”

There’s a smattering of applause and relieved chuckles from around the studio. Yoongi runs a hand over his face and smiles tiredly at Hwan. “Go home and take a shower,” he advises him.

He frowns. “Why?”

“We can’t have a solo debut without a release party,” says Jung PD, as though it’s obvious. “Granted, it won’t be as fancy as a pre-planned party, but nothing about this release has been traditional so far,” he adds, and a few people laugh.

Yoongi notices Hwan’s hesitation. “I’ll sit with the Audio team,” he assures him. “This track won’t be out of my sight for a second until it’s officially out.”

Hwan nods and wipes his eyes as subtly as he can and everyone awws, Hoseok and one of the assistant producers throwing their arms around his shoulders and squeezing him. It’s an organic moment of camaraderie after over twelve hours of work; Yoongi can’t help but be extremely proud of Hwan.

“I’ll get the admin team to send out a mass email to the department to come over in a couple of hours.” Jung PD waves his phone and steps out, already making the call.

Everyone shuffles out after that, Namjoon giving Yoongi a last relieved high-five before leaving. Once he’s alone, Yoongi sighs and takes a seat, trying to squeeze in a minute of rest before heading over to the Audio team. He doesn’t foresee any problems there per se, but it requires plenty of concentration that he needs to gather from somewhere.

After five minutes of stretching and finishing the last of the Red Bull in the studio, Yoongi stands up and quickly emails the track to the Audio team, marking it URGENT. Taking a copy of it in a pendrive, he reaches for his bag and at the last moment, remembers to take the sheet music just in case it’s required. Straightening the sheets, he sees the names on the front page. Suga of BTS. Hwan. Kang Chanel.

Yoongi pauses. The mass email to the department will include her for certain. His heart skips a beat at the thought that she will most likely not come to the party, and won’t hear how her own song turned out until the rest of the world does. 

The smallest twinge of regret at how he’d spoken to her yesterday begins to take form in the bottom of his stomach. He thinks of how, nearly a year ago, he’d visited her house on an invite, not from Miso, but from her father. She hadn’t said a word in his presence, but the way she’d abruptly gone silent had been so uncomfortable to watch that Yoongi had accepted the invitation without even considering it, just so her father would leave.

You don’t know my father.

She’d said that to him at her house and while he hadn’t pried, it hadn’t quite left his mind either. He swallows and shakes his head; he can’t afford these thoughts right now. He’ll apologise to her later if he needs to; after all, it’s still Hwan who gave up his contract.

With that in mind, he turns off the light and leaves the studio.

—

For a last minute gathering catered by the bakery from the Hilton down the street and leftover liquor from Big Hit’s last party, Yoongi walks in to see far more people than he’d expected. Fortunately, the office’s entertainment hall seems to have been available and after some minimal decorations, at least part of the crowd seems to know what they’re here for.

He spots Hwan near the stage, looking fresher than he’s seen him all day, talking to a couple of other artists. Deciding to let him have his moment, Yoongi slinks over to the makeshift bar and pours himself a small whiskey, watching the night finally coming together after two days of chaos.

Jung PD comes over to him a little while later. “Did Audio sign off?”

Yoongi nods. “They wanted this released just as fast as we did, I think,” he says in a low voice. “I don’t know if they know about the… situation, but they were more cooperative than I’ve ever experienced.”

He chortles. “That’s good. Do you have your speech ready?” he asks, just as the music fades away.

“Speech? Come on,” he says, rolling his eyes even as he spots Hwan jogging over to them. “I shouldn't be -“

“This is all because of you, hyung,” he gushes, rosy-cheeked, his thick black hair bouncing on his forehead. He grabs Yoongi’s wrist and steers him towards the stage. “You have to say a few words.”

There’s some clapping and hooting which completely drowns out Yoongi’s feeble protests, but the small and proud part of him chooses to play along and he hops up on the small stage, barely two inches off the ground.

“Um -“ Yoongi clears his throat. Now that he’s up here, he realises the number of people who showed up was more than he’d initially realised. He scans the faces, some unrecognisable, until he spots Hwan and Jung PD standing in front, and feels a rush of happiness for them.

“I shouldn’t even be the one up here,” he begins, fiddling absently with his glass of whiskey. “But now that I am, I think this night won’t be complete without thanking a few people without whom this wouldn’t have been possible. As you know, we had some complications -” He pauses while a few people chuckle “- but we did it in the end.”

Hwan looks thrilled, now not even bothering to hide the fact that he’s crying. Yoongi thinks about what he’s given up already, about all the faith he’s kept in him so far, and his heart twists with affection.

“The Marketing team, for their stellar promotion and last-mile effort; Minji and Adora, for the background vocals they came up with on the spot,” he lists, pausing after each statement for people to applaud. “The Audio team for giving us the fastest sign-off in the history of Big Hit -” There are a few more laughs as one of the Audio reps raises his glass in acknowledgement. “Jung PD, of course, for being the mentor and producer I can only hope to be like one day - and Hwan, of course, for the dedication and talent like no other.”

The applause is far louder now, with cheers and hooting, and Yoongi joins in until he spots Miso’s face towards the back of the room. His smile fades and for a moment, so does everything else.

He should thank her. He knows he should. As a writer, Hwan would quite literally not have this song if it weren’t for her. His eyes drop to the floor before meeting hers again. She’s wearing an olive green dress, her pale and slender arms crossed protectively over her chest. She doesn’t smile at him, but there’s something hopeful in her face. 

Yoongi exhales; after yesterday morning, he might just owe her this, even if it’s just to bury the hatchet. But then a movement catches his eye and he sees Jung PD hugging Hwan, and considers how inappropriate it might be to thank Kang Jaesung’s daughter in front of Hwan, one day after he’d almost lost everything because of a powerful billionaire.

He swallows and clenches his jaw. Maybe this isn’t the right forum. She’ll still be credited as a writer and that’ll be forever. That was all she ever cared about anyway, to be credited.

“To Hwan,” he says finally, watching with a sinking stomach how her face falls slightly while the room erupts in applause again. It disappears in a flash, however, and she takes a deep breath before turning and murmuring something to the man beside her. Yoongi frowns; he hadn’t even noticed this person until now, with sharp features and a suit, a distinct, hulking look as he stands just behind her so her shoulder grazes his tie. 

He vaguely registers Jung PD stepping up to the stage and looks away to give him the mic. By the time he turns back to where Miso was, she’s gone, with her companion following her outside.

Yoongi stares at her vacant spot with unease. He tries to remember the fury he’d felt yesterday morning when the song was being shut down, but it seems ridiculously far away. What seem closer are the days they spent producing the song together in the studio, rewriting the words over empty cups of coffee, and the look on her face when he’d told her to get off his team.

“Hyung, is everything okay?” Hwan asks a few minutes later, when the speeches are over and the music is louder.

“Fine.” Yoongi forces a smile and shoves his free hand in his pocket. “What about you? Are you ready for Sunday night?”

“Am I ready to perform at a BTS concert?” He lets out a low whistle. “It’s like a dream, hyung. I still can’t believe it.”

“You’ll believe it when you have to spend the next three days in rehearsals.”

“That’s not a problem,” he says immediately. “I can’t wait. I’ll have to talk to my agent about timings, though - he’s got me a meeting with Puma and Innisfree also wants to meet -”

“Wait, Innisfree?” Yoongi frowns. “Are they trying to get you back? I suppose you can now, after the song has been released.”

Hwan looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, no, I didn’t break my contract. I didn’t need to - can you believe it? Jung PD just called me this morning and told me to come in and I couldn’t believe my luck.” He tilts his head curiously. “I was actually going to ask you about it. I thought you would know what happened.”

Yoongi’s heart starts beating fast - very fast. His mind isn’t able to spell it out immediately but the way his stomach jolts, he knows the only other thing that could’ve made this song go through. He looks to Jung PD and something in his expression makes the older producer usher Hwan away before speaking further.

“I got an email last night,” he says after a moment. “Miso offered to take her name off the song. About half an hour later, Legal emailed me saying that their complication has been removed. It’s not hard to put two and two together.”

Yoongi bites his lip, taking a deep breath through his nose and exhaling shakily. “And the reason you didn’t tell me this was because…?”

“I didn’t think you’d do it if you knew she wasn’t getting credited,” he says apologetically. “Not after the Jungwon-Minji collaboration. Yoongi, you have a good heart but we just couldn’t risk it getting in the way of this release,” he continues quickly. “We’ve invested too much - and think of Hwan! Think of how he -”

“You lied to me!” Yoongi whispers furiously. “How - how could you do that? She and I worked on this together! She’s - we’re -” He breaks off abruptly, feeling an unexpected heat creep up his neck. “She’s my assistant producer! How is it going to look, that someone from my team forgoes credit twice?”

“You’re covered there,” he replies immediately, to Yoongi’s surprise. “She switched to Donghyuk’s team just before writing to Legal, so technically, she was off your team when she stepped down. It won’t go on your record at all.”

Yoongi feels like he’s underwater. “How -” He shakes his head, recalling the number of times he’s suggested switching teams, and her exasperated response each time. “She - she was assigned to me. People can’t just switch teams of their own accord.”

Jung PD gives him a look that makes Yoongi want to hit him. “You know who her father is, Yoongi. All she had to do was drop one email and she could switch to any team she wanted.”

—

What if I fail, dad?

Believe me. You don’t want to fail.

Even as an eleven year old, her father’s words had sent shivers up her spine. She had failed anyway, losing the spelling bee to her cousin, whose father had then brought it up at a family dinner party. The next day, Miso’s pet rabbit disappeared. Upon asking, her father had silenced her with a stony look.

Failure has consequences. Your rabbit should be the least of your concerns right now.

Miso had been devastated beyond words until a week later, when their housekeeper had sneaked into her room and informed her that their gardener, who had been instructed to take care of the rabbit, had instead given it away to his brother’s children who lived near the outskirts of the city.

It hadn’t helped too much, for every imagined scenario of her pet rabbit stayed burned in her brain anyway, flashing through her mind every time the possibility of failing her father loomed close.

I’ll sign off on your song. Convince him to sell to me.

Miso’s father had kept his word; the song will be out to the public in a few hours. But it doesn’t let her off the hook, for if she isn’t able to convince Lee Jiho to sell his company to her father, there’s no telling what could happen. If she’s lucky, all he will do is take away her job. If she isn’t… her rabbit flashes through her mind again and she shivers.

“Are all your work parties like this?” Jiho looks around with barely-concealed judgement. He places his glass of untouched whiskey on a table and slips his hands into his pockets.

“They’re usually more… planned,” she admits. She wishes she hadn’t brought him here. Her idea had been to help him get his guard down, maybe get him a little drunk and start talking up her father’s company. A party at Big Hit typically meant a celebrity or two as well, which was usually an added bonus for most people.

Jiho, however, it became apparent soon, thought he was above entertainment entirely. Far from impressing him, she worries she’s putting him off even more than he already seemed when she’d called him earlier today on the pretext of “getting to know him better”.

“Do you want to step outside?” she suggests. “It’ll be quieter…” She tries to shrug her shoulders in a flirty manner, feeling both nervous and ridiculous.

Jiho fixes her with his gaze, and Miso feels a crawling sensation up her back. Somehow, he has a tendency to make her feel like she’s being studied.

“Sure,” he says finally. They walk out of the party together and to the outside, near a gazebo and a closed coffee cart.

“Do you smoke?” he asks, placing a cigarette in between his teeth and lighting it. When she nods, he offers her the pack and waits for her to ask for the lighter. 

“I got it,” he mutters, and steps forward to touch the tip of his cigarette to hers. His eyes stay on her as he towers over her figure, backing her up against the wall behind her. Miso freezes, but before she can react further, he takes a step back.

She exhales shakily and takes a long drag, almost gagging at the thick, unfamiliar taste of old school cigarettes. For a moment she thinks about the last time she shared a cigarette with someone, the minty flavour and begrudging friendship tied to it.

Miso shakes her head. She can’t think about him right now.

“You know,” begins Jiho, blowing a long string of smoke into the air. “I’ve been in a lot of meetings with a lot of important people. But none of them have been interrupted midway quite like the one with your father yesterday. Definitely not for…” His gaze drops to her and he narrows his eyes curiously, as though sifting through the words in his mind. “… a daughter,” he says at last.

So it’s been playing on his mind since yesterday. Miso swallows and nods.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says, giving him a small smile. “It was… it was important. There are some things only my father can fix. He’s a useful person to have on your side.”

Jiho nods, raising his eyebrows. “That’s touching. Unfortunately, that’s not what it looked like from where I was sitting.”

She’s failing. She can feel it. Her pulse starts racing in anxiety.

“My father holds you in very high regard.”

“Really? He told you that?”

“Of course,” she lies easily. “I… forgive me, but I don’t make it a habit to ask for the number of everybody my father does business with.”

He gives her that same appraising look again, as though she’s an object at an antique sale he’s trying to price.

“That’s good to hear, I suppose. Although,” he says a moment later, “if he does hold me in such high regard, why is he trying to buy me out at a lower price? Why isn’t he paying me what I’m worth?” He takes a step closer to her with his last word.

He’s too close for comfort. “I don’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of how he does business. I’d rather leave that to someone with more experience,” she adds, gesturing slightly towards him and seeing his acknowledgement of it. “But… he’s a very valuable asset. His partnership can offer you a lot more than money.”

“Is that so?” His voice is soft and the faintest smile flits across his face. “Well,” he says, exhaling and dropping the extinguisher cigarette on the ground, “he’s your father. I’ll take your word for it.”

Miso stares, somewhat confused. It doesn’t seem like the conversation is over, but there’s an air of satisfaction about him.

“That’s… that’s good.”

Jiho gives her the closest thing to a smile since she met him yesterday. “So. What is it worth to you?”

Something uneasy stirs in her stomach. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t look away from her. “Well. I’m guessing your father sent you here to sweet-talk me into this deal. Must be that partnership you’ve told me so much about,” he adds, chuckling softly.

Two things happen around the same time. The first is her realisation that beyond a certain point, her father did not care about Big Hit releasing a song or who the artist was. What he wanted was an entrepreneur’s company for cheap, and what he needed was his daughter indebted to him to the point of doing whatever it took to pay him back. He’d played the long game, possibly all the way since breakfast yesterday morning.

The second is Jiho’s forehead clearing when he’s satisfied that she understands what he means. 

Miso swallows, her heart hammering in her chest as she imagines the feel of a rabbit’s fur between her trembling fingers. “Are you serious?” she whispers, without thinking.

Jiho shrugs. “Depends. Do you want this sale to go through or not?”

She remembers the glare he’d thrown her yesterday at the father’s office when his meeting had been interrupted for her. For her father, this is business. For Jiho, this is ego. Either way, Miso can’t see a way out.

Yoongi is contemplating leaving the party early when he finally sees Miso again. Hugely relieved that she’s still here, he pushes through the crowd and jogs towards her.

“Miso!” he calls, reaching her just when she whips around at the sound of her name and her eyes go wide at the sight of Yoongi. “Listen, I - I need to talk to you.”

Before she can say anything, however, the same guy who had been standing next to her during Yoongi’s speech steps forward. In his indigo blue suit, he looks ridiculously out of place at this party. 

“We’re in a bit of a hurry right now,” he says smoothly. “Maybe later.” He moves to leave, his hand big and unwelcome on the small of Miso’s back.

Yoongi fights the urge to slap it away and blocks their way. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I really -” His gaze drops to Miso, who looks more troubled than he’s ever seen her. All sorts of unimportant things like writing credits and songs fly clean out of his mind; something is not right. “I really need to talk to you,” he says softly. He watches her carefully and just when he thinks he’s imagining things, she gives him an imperceptible shake of the head.

The man behind her steps forward so he’s beside her. “I’m Jiho. I’m a… a business associate of Kang Jaesung’s,” he says deliberately, with a sinister sort of pride in his voice. “And you are?”

Something cold sinks into Yoongi’s chest. Just like before, he can’t quite spell out what it is but he knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he can’t let Miso leave with this person. He ignores the question and keeps his gaze on her.

“Miso,” he repeats, a little more urgently this time. “It - it’ll just take a second. It’s about work.”

Jiho - Yoongi can’t recall if that’s his name - scoffs, clearly affronted at being ignored. “Miso, do you know him?” he demands.

Something flickers in her eyes before stabilising. “Just some guy I work with,” she murmurs.

“No…” Yoongi says it under his breath, his frown deepening. “Miso -“

But he falls silent when her eyes flash momentarily. There’s no anger there, or betrayal. It’s a warning: don’t get involved. 

“Let’s go.” Yoongi catches a glimpse of her wrist just before Jiho wraps his fingers around it, and notices the mark he’d spotted last time, but far more faded. 

Before he can say anything else, Jiho elbows him out of the way and they leave. Yoongi waits for a couple of seconds for Miso to look back at him, to give him some hint that she knows what she’s doing. But she never does. He stays rooted to the spot until they disappear around the corner, fear gripping at his heart, when a switch flips and he races after them.

He takes a call between the parking lot and the entrance of the building and hurries towards the former, stopping in the dark lobby to see a grey jaguar outside with a driver in the front, waiting with the headlights on. Behind him, the back door is open as Miso climbs into the back seat, Jiho still gripping her wrist.

“No!” Yoongi doesn’t grasp immediately that he’s shouted out loud, but it’s only when Jiho frowns for a second and looks around that Yoongi realises they can’t hear him. He hurries across the lobby as Jiho gets in the car as well and shuts the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” he shouts. “Miso!” But by the time Yoongi runs through the automatic doors and reaches the porch, the car has driven away.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

Updated on 06.11.2023

All works listed here are mine and 18+ ONLY. Do not repost, modify or translate anywhere, even with credit. Please respect a creator's original works.

Responses and feedback are always appreciated and are a huge source of motivation! Reblog or drop an ask to tell me what you think (feedback > likes). If you want to be added to my permanent taglist, drop me a comment/ask 💜

I cross-post on AO3!

(If I don't respond to comments, it's not because I'm being rude but because this is a sideblog and I can't 🤷🏻‍♀️)

(All gorgeous banners are courtesy of the talented @missgeniality)

Disclaimer: Obviously, while my fics are inspired by the public personas of the members of BTS, I do not know them or claim to know anything more about their lives than is actively made public. All characters and events in my stories are completely fictional.

~

Idolverse

This series consists of fics set in the same universe, of the members of BTS and their long-term OCs. While these are part of a larger story, most fics can be read standalone as well. The below links have them in chronological order:

Namjoon | Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

Fics in order of posting: This is the order in which all fics were initially posted. If you're new to my blog or ready to dive into the universe, this is the recommended order. (It is just a recommendation, though - feel free to use member masterlists as well :))

Fics in order of chronology: This is the order of the fics based on where they occur in the timeline, primarily for reference of which events in a certain storyline coincide with others

OCs of the Idolverse: A compilation of facts, descriptions and reactions of the OCs in the series (to request a scenario, drop me an ask)

Ask the Idolverse: All comments and questions asked to characters, with responses (requests are open; drop them an ask :))

Latest: Flight Risk (Yoongi x Miso); Los Angeles pt. 2 (Namjoon x Kaya, Taehyung x Dilara) Upcoming: Paradise Interrupted (Namjoon x Kaya)

Art: In Time by @meirkive

~

Posting Timeline

This is the masterlist of fics featuring all seven members in the order they were posted. If you're a new reader, this is the recommended order in which to read them to get the feel of the universe as plots are slowly revealed. You can check out the fics in terms of chronology here.

The Fifth (Jungkook x Lia)

The Fifth: Part 2 (Jungkook x Lia)

Los Angeles (Taehyung x Dilara)

The Date (Taehyung x Dilara)

You Make Me Live (Seokjin x Nari)

The Sixth (Jungkook x Lia)

Confessions (Taehyung x Dilara)

Industry Baby (Namjoon x Kaya)

Austin (Taehyung x Dilara)

Familiar Faces (Jimin x Sooah)

Aspirin (Namjoon x Kaya)

Honey (Jungkook x Lia)

Suburbia (Namjoon x Kaya)

Need To Know (Jimin x Sooah)

In Time (Taehyung x Dilara)

About You (Namjoon x Kaya)

Stranger Things (Jimin x Sooah)

Monza (Taehyung x Dilara)

Strawberry and Vanilla (Seokjin x Nari)

Family Matters (Yoongi x Miso)

Next Time (Namjoon x Kaya)

Melbourne (Taehyung x Dilara)

Weekend Story / Part 2 (Taehyung x Dilara)

A Phone Call (Jimin x Sooah)

Double Take (Hoseok x Chaeyoung)

Seoul (Namjoon x Kaya)

The Reason (Taehyung x Dilara)

Baby, It’s Cold Outside (Taehyung x Dilara)

On Call (Seokjin x Nari)

Movie Night (Hoseok x Chaeyoung)

Chingu (Taehyung x Dilara)

So Many Signs (Taehyung x Dilara)

Zandvoort (Taehyung x Dilara)

Never Have I (Jimin x Sooah, Hoseok x Chaeyoung)

Voice Of An Angel (Namjoon x Kaya)

Unfinished Business (Jungkook x Lia)

The Wedding (Seokjin x Nari)

The Test (Seokjin x Nari)

The Boyfriend (Namjoon x Kaya)

Other People (Seokjin x Nari)

Getting Ahead (Jimin x Sooah)

Trials and Temptation (Taehyung x Dilara)

Epic (Taehyung x Dilara)

New Year’s Eve Eve (OT7)

~ End of Season 1 ~

Aphrodite (Namjoon x Kaya)

Kiss and Tell (Hoseok x Chaeyoung)

Near Misses (Hoseok x Chaeyoung, Jimin x Sooah)

A Night of Firsts (Seokjin x Nari, Yoongi x Miso)

Tea and Olive (Seokjin x Nari)

Los Angeles pt. 2 (Namjoon x Kaya, Taehyung x DIlara)

Jungkook Fanfic Recommendation(6)₊˚🪻๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ 🌿☁️

𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸

🍃 Mistake | Idol!Jungkook x Reader | Series | @ugotnojamzzz

🍃 karma is coming | punk!Jungkook x preppy!female reader | Oneshot | @folkookie97

🍃 birthday boy | husband!jk x wife!reader | Married couple au | Oneshot | @jeonfics

🍃 nowhere with you. | jungkook x reader | Oneshot | @13lov

🍃 Dearly Beloved | Yandere!Jungkook X Reader | Series | @bonny-kookoo

🍃 test your morality | Bff!Jungkook X Reader | Oneshot | @trivia-yandere

🍃 Vérités Cachées | Jungkook x Reader. | Oneshot | @bangtanficsforyou

🍃 say it | jungkook x fem!reader | Oneshot | @peachypinkygloss

🍃 Ungodly Hour | Simp!Jungkook X Reader | @explicit-tae

🍃 I think we’re soulmates | Jungkook X Reader | Oneshot | @rkivepetals

🍃In Motion | Jungkook x reader | Series | @yoonia

🍃older | older!jungkook x afab reader | Oneshot | @jungkookschin

🍃make you scream | jungkook x camgirl!reader | Oneshot | @13lov

🍃peek-a-boo! | Stranger!Jungkook X Reader | Oneshot | @namfinessed

🍃August | JK X Reader | @kimchitaebae

🍃you’ll let me? | shy!oc x shy!jk | Oneshot | @honeytae

🍃drabble | sugar daddy!dilf!jungkook x f!reader | @strwb3rrynini

🍃Jailbird | prisoner!jk x officer!reader | Teaser | @jkslipppiercing

🍃Fine Line | Jungkook X Reader | Enemies to lovers | @bangtanficsforyou

🍃Affection and Seduction | Jungkook x Reader | Series | @trina864

🍃the lottery offering | Jungkook X Reader | Oneshot | @skswriting

🍃“wanna play you like a game” | villian? antagonist! tribe leader jk x princess! y/n | Series | @lilliankoo

🍃New Beginnings | werewolf!jeongguk x reader | Oneshot | @gukeobi

🍃Room 109 | alpha!jungkook X omega!reader | Oneshot | @lavishedinjimin

𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸

🍃Divine Intervention | Jungkook x Goddess!Reader | Oneshot | @minisugakoobies

MASTERLIST here

𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Vampire! Jeon Jungkook X Human! (F) Reader 

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut + tiny thriller + fluff 

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: Being without you almost the entire night was unbearable and Jungkook just wants to scare the life out of you and fuck your brains out in the middle of the woods. 

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 7.2K 

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: pwp!, Dom!jk, Sub!reader, unprotected sex (don’t be a dumbass. Wrap it!) biting, spanking, dirty talk, blood drinking, cursing, drinking, calls her a slut thrice, lil rough sex, lil choking, bit of manhandling, multiple orgasms, crying (oc), hair pulling, jk is kinda mean but loves oc sm, calls her his doll, love & pretty a lot. 

He’s been eyeing you almost the whole night and you can practically feel his gaze burning into your skin from across where he sits. You know Jungkook would much rather spend his time next to you instead of being separated by your friends. 

Although a part of you wants to be beside him just as much and you can’t help the way you're so easily drawn to his gaze. Licking your over-bitten red lips you admire him a bit longer, liking the way he looks just sitting there by the fire in his all black attire and freshly cut short hair you never quite got over. 

It’s almost annoying how good Jungkook always looks. How he manages to make you a squirming mess whenever he’s near and he knows it too.

Heat seeps in your lower half, body getting hot with excitement coursing through your veins because you know he can’t keep his eyes off you too. 

“I’ll be back.” Standing up from your spot on the blanketed floor, you excuse yourself from the girls to head back inside the cabin for another drink.  

You send him a teasing smile as you pass him by, stifling a giggle as his eyes trail after you. 

This time Jungkook really can’t help himself and watches you walk further away towards the cabin. The mesmerizing way your hips sway in that black mini you wear has him licking his lips and biting into the flesh at sinful thoughts of you. The sight just adds on to the way he’s been aching to have you all night. 

He realizes though that he’s not the only one checking you out, noticing Taehyung in his peripheral vision watching you as well. Jungkook’s head immediately snaps in his direction with a sharp glare, sending a harsh smack to the back of his head for thinking that he could so much as look at you like that. 

“Ow!. Fuck.” Taehyung groans in agony as he rubs the spot right after to soothe the oncoming pain. 

He’s lucky he didn’t get his heart ripped out or his head snapped harshly, Jungkook thinks to himself. 

He knows your friends wouldn’t appreciate the sight and would most definitely freak out. They already think of him as a weirdo, but he could care less. 

He glares at him a second longer, tonguing his cheek in distaste before he’s ultimately getting up from the ground and leaving the group behind. 

Jungkook’s spent the entire night almost without you by his side and now he just wants you all to himself. 

It seems they ran out of your favorite flavor as you eye the remaining two wine coolers in the fridge. You sigh in slight irritation and opt for the one that sucks less. 

After closing the fridge shut and turning around, a gasp escapes you in slight surprise seeing Jungkook casually standing in front of you. 

When the fuck did he get here?. 

“Fuck, were you there the whole time?.” You ask, twisting the top of your wine cooler off and taking a quick sip. 

He doesn’t give you an answer for a moment as he stares at you. 

“Take a walk with me.” Jungkook simply says, more of a demand than a suggestion. 

He grabs your wrist as he gently tugs you along with him out the front door and back outside into the cold night. 

You catch sight of your friends who are having too much fun by the bonfire to pay you two any mind as you both sneak off somewhere else. 

“Like in the woods?.” 

Jumgkook’s pulling you towards the lineage of tall trees where nothing but darkness seeps and you don’t doubt you both would just get lost in the first few minutes. 

“You scared?.” A deep chuckle rumbles past his lips as he glances back at you with a teasing smile. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him as you let him lead the way and pull you along this sudden late night adventure. 

“Please, I’m with you. What else could I possibly be scared of at this point?.” 

“Weren’t you scared of those weird shapeshifter creatures you once talked about?” Jungkook mentions with a snort. 

At the mere mention you gasp and pull him closer, molding yourself against his body. 

“Why would you bring that up now of all times!.” 

Jungkook laughs, letting you cling onto him tighter. You smack his shoulder, not liking how he finds amusement in your fear of such. 

“I’m sorry, pretty. You have nothing to worry about though when I’m right here.” He pulls you to a stop suddenly, pausing you both in your trek. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Huffing out a sigh, you let him grasp your hips and pin you close against his front. With a finger, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and leans in to press a kiss upon your right cheek. 

It’s a bit cold, but it’s sweet nonetheless and still has your heart melting inside at the sweet gesture.

The chilly air nips at your exposed skin, and you mentally scold yourself for choosing to look sexily appealing tonight rather than dressing for warmth. You’re a bit envious of Jungkook as he’s naturally accustomed to the cold weather. He doesn’t provide you warmth, at least not really physically. 

Right now he can hear how your blood pumps in your veins and your heartbeat racing. It spurs on his hunger. Being beside you now and smelling how good you absolutely are is intoxicating. It always is. Jungkook usually knows to resist himself and hold back his urges. However, you are just too irresistible and he can’t wait till he can finally have you like he’s been wanting all night. 

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?, doll.” Cupping your face, he fixes you with a look of pure admiration, making you feel like the prettiest thing in the world and to him you were. It brings a smile to your lips and you grip onto him by the open flaps of his leather jacket. 

“Mmm, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me back there.” You tease with a smirk and he throws his head back, biting back a smile of his own. 

“Can’t help it when you're so goddamn beautiful.” Jungkook doesn’t deny it, looking back down at you as he squeezes your hips in emphasis of how bad he wants you. 

“Yeah?. Tae seemed to have thought so too. He kept looking at me.” 

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, eyes slightly tinged a deep red as he gazes back at you with mild rage.

“Don’t.” He rips away from you, running a hand down his face frustratedly.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead by now with the way he glares at you.

You know you shouldn’t have said that, but you can’t help but to like the sudden reaction you're getting from him. Even if it is going to cost you. 

“Unless you wanna piss me off and have me take you right here against this tree.” He gets past through gritted teeth, jaw tensing as he fixes you with a look in ferocity. 

A moan nearly escapes you as the words leave his lips, squeezing your thighs together at the thought. It’s what you wanted and you want him so bad. 

Jungkook’s been making you feel hot and bothered almost all night at the bonfire with his lust filled gazes and how particularly hot he’s looked tonight. You need him more than ever right now.  

“What if that’s exactly what I want?.” 

You pull him closer by your tight grip on his jacket, challenging him as you slowly tug Jungkook back with you towards the tree. His hands keep a hold of your waist, still making sure you don’t trip in the dark. The moonlight shines prettily over your face and for a moment he’s lost in his thoughts, wanting to give you what you want, anything you ask of him. He’d be a fool not to when you look at him like that with pretty lashes fluttering, gazing up at him sweetly looking like sins incarnate.  

Just what kind of temptress were you?. 

He’s always ready to give you anything you could ever want, no questions asked.

However, as tempting as you are, Jungkook doesn’t forget what you were trying to do and can’t help but want to play with you a little. 

You should know better than to ruffle his feathers up like that. 

“Careful baby, you know I bite.” His grip transfers to your shoulders and pushes you back against the thick three behind you, pinning his body against yours. 

One of his legs bends and wedges its way between your exposed thighs, immediately feeling your warmth from below. He’s leaning forward and presses a chaste kiss on the side of your neck before moving on up as he nibbles on your earlobe.  

“And I’ll bite real hard.” His deep timbre sends a shiver down your spine, heart beating rapidly it makes him chuckle. 

Your breath hitches, waiting for him to do exactly that any moment now. He looks up at you, hand cradling your face gently as he’s leaning into you. Before his lips just about touch yours, he rips away from you completely. 

“What-“ Your eyes flutter in confusion, stunned at the way he’s slowly walking away from you. 

“Come on doll.” Tucking both hands into the front pockets of his jeans, Jungkook nods his head into the darkness that surrounds you amongst the trees. 

You follow him as he walks further  away from you in his trek deeper into the woods. 

With little light, you try to keep your sights on him but it seems he’s only getting further and further ahead of you, seamlessly slipping into the darkness. 

“Wait.” A gasp leaves you and immediately you stop in place once you ultimately lose sight of Jungkook. Eyes squinting, you try your hardest to look for him, but you have no idea where he suddenly went. Your heart begins to pound for a different reason as you turn and look each way for any sight of him, which is futile at this point because it’s dark out and you could barely see a thing, the moonlight not providing much light. It seems the further you are the darker it gets. 

“Jungkook?.” His name falls from your lips in a shaky breath and you begin to feel uneasy when your voice is all you can hear and you don’t get an immediate response back, none at all. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself tighter for warmth and some type of comfort, you begin to slowly walk once again. At this point you're lost and you don’t know which way is back or which way Jungkook suddenly went. 

You know he’d never intentionally put you in danger or even try to hurt you, but his sudden disappearance leaves you deeply disturbed. 

A twig snaps nearby and you immediately turn in the direction you think you heard it come from. 

A shiver racks through you not only because of the cold but sudden fear that has settled deep within. Your lips tremble, breath picking up as you stare into the dark, waiting for something or anything to just come out. 

“Jungkook please, I just want to go back already.” A whine nearly escapes your throat, hoping it was him and that he’s just messing with you because you’re starting to become a startled mess at the thought that it could be anyone or anything else out there with you and this could very well be the last night of your life. 

Once again you don’t get any type of response. Your heart thrums wildly within your chest when you suddenly hear fast footsteps that sound like they’re coming near you. 

Taking a step back you turn around and immediately start running once you hear it coming even closer towards you, panting and chest heaving as you try to run as fast as you can to get away from whatever is now chasing after you. 

Tears cascade down your cheeks rapidly and whimpers tumble out of your throat as you pray for it to get lost and for Jungkook to just come back and save you. 

You’ve never felt so terrified in your life and you wish you never let him drag you out here this late. 

Many branches snapping and leaves crunching along with your heavy breathing are the only things you hear in the dead of night. The heavy footsteps never stop along with you and you almost trip over a few thick ingrown branches sticking out from beneath the dirt ground. 

They’ve gotten even closer and all you can do is keep trying to run away but it seems like all hope is gone once they grip you by the back of your long sleeve and pull you into them. 

“No!. Please!.” You cry out in desperation, trying to wriggle out from its strong hold. 

A hand covers over your mouth, preventing you from crying or screaming anymore and you pant harshly, struggling to breathe for air against them. 

They push you into the nearest tree, face planted quite harsh against the rough bark that scrapes your skin. You whimper and stop struggling in their grasp because you no longer have it in you to. Silently crying as you wish this never happened, that you weren’t left completely alone out here in the woods. 

A deep chuckle in amusement sounds behind you and your eyes widen at the familiarity of it, body frozen against him.

“Aww, did I scare my pretty baby too much.” Jungkook finally lets go of you, turning you back around so he could see you. 

The tears in your red stinging eyes and the hysterical look on your face was enough to make him regret his attempt at scaring you. He no doubt had you terrified. 

His smile fades into a look of concern, not liking the saddened look on your pretty face he put there. 

Oh, his poor sweetheart.

Jungkook notices some dirt on your cheek and a cut where a bit of blood seeps out. He wipes the dirt off and leans forward to lick the remaining blood and clean it up for you, almost moaning at how good you taste. 

“Y-you’re such…an asshole for that.” You sniffle, shoving him back hard he almost trips on a few branches below him. 

“I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t mea- okay I did, but-…I’m sorry.” He drops his head upon your shoulder in defeat and wraps his strong arms around your waist tightly, wanting to hold and comfort you as best as he could. 

“I won’t ever do it again. I’m sorry love.” Jungkook whispers below you, wallowing in your intoxicating scent and warmth. Your fear and rapid heart rate had made you smell even more delectable. 

He looks up at you, hand gently cupping your jaw. “I’ll make it up to you, just like I know you want.” 

You’re still sniffling with tears in your eyes but you’ve somewhat calmed down. Still can’t believe it was him who was after you. You almost hate him for it. 

“Don’t you ever do this again or I’ll leave you, where you could never find me.” You say with finality, narrowing your eyes up at him in a way that lets him know how serious you are. 

Jungkook doubts that you could ever do that and besides, he could so easily find you, he wouldn’t stop either.  

“I won’t. I’m sorry, love.” Jungkook nods his head, promising you with a tender kiss to both of your cheeks before placing one upon your lips. One that’s gentle and sweet. It instantly melts your heart. 

Jungkook pulls away for a moment, lifting your chin up to look him in the eyes as he speaks. “You know I’d never let anything bad happen to you doll.” 

He knew how you felt during the moment he was chasing after you and once he caught you. How scared and helpless you felt, how terrified you sounded. He doesn’t ever want you to feel that way again, ever. 

“I’ll always be here and don’t you think for a second that I won’t be. I’d die before I let anyone or anything harm you.” The intense look in his eyes and how gently he’s cradling you makes you feel safe, makes you want to believe his words. Even if he is a creature of the night, a predator in his nature. One that is feared and that you should be feared by, but you aren’t afraid of him. Up until this point he’s never given you a reason to be.  Nonetheless, you always want to be by his side.

Maybe you're crazy for thinking this way, but you're way past that now to even care. 

Jungkook angles your head up as he slips his tongue past your eager lips, tangling with yours and swallowing your soft moans of pleasure. Hand at your waist thumbing your skin underneath your shirt and pushing his knee between your legs once again. 

For a moment you forget you're both still in the woods, alone and how cold it is when he has you like this in his hold making you feel so good. Jungkook knows you want more when your hands grip around his shoulders, matching his urgency to taste more and not so subtly grinding yourself down onto his jean clad thigh. 

Jungkook pulls away suddenly with a chuckle as you whine at the loss of contact, pulling him closer once more. 

“Tell me what you want?, love.” Licking his lips, he never stops his caress upon your skin and he waits for your reply. Watching the way your chest heaves and the pretty look you're giving him, desperate and full of desire. 

“I’ll do anything you ask of me.” Jungkook leans in once again and presses another kiss to your neck, lightly suckling upon the spot where your blood pumps rapidly. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you speak up with a waver in your voice, almost pleading. “I want you to make me feel good…need you so bad.”

“You always need me huh.” A sly smile spreads across his handsome face, lip ring shining under the moonlight that provides little light over you both. 

Nodding your head, you hum a reply and pull him closer, wanting him to just do something already. You can’t take it anymore. He looks too good standing in front of you. You want nothing more than for him to touch you and make you feel so good like he always does. 

Jungkook thinks you look absolutely gorgeous like this with your pretty pleading eyes and cute furrowed brows. He finds it endearing how you tug him by his jacket and grip your fingers in the material because you want him as close to you as he can be. 

God, he absolutely wants to devour you. 

“Mmm, I’ve wanted you all night baby.” Jungkook confesses as he cups your jaw and locks your lips this time with much fervor. 

“I’ll make you feel so good.” He rasps deeply against you, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Give you whatever you need, cause’ you’re mine…fuck, just wanna tear into you.” Jungkook’s hunger is getting harder to tame the more he desires for you. He just wants to lose control and do every ungodly thing he could to do to you. 

The times when you first met were so fucking hard and he’s learned to control himself since, but sometimes you truly make it so difficult for him to do so, like now.  

A moan escapes you at his words, grinding your covered core against his thigh again in desperation. 

“Please fuck me, do whatever you want to me, please!.” 

You sound so pretty to him and Jungkook wants to keep making pretty sounds fall from your red stained lips. 

“Fuck, baby, turn around for me.” He grabs you by the waist and turns you around himself, having you facing the tree. 

A groan falls past his lips when he pulls you flush against him, bringing your ass to meet his hips. 

“Gonna fuck you so good.” 

He pushes you forward to pin you against his body and the thick tree, your face almost pressing into the bark as you try to hold yourself up against it. One of his hands slips down and lifts your skirt up, revealing your sweet plump ass in the black lace panties you’ve got on.

Jungkook moans at the sight, landing a slap against your right cheek with his tattooed hand and he loves the way it bounces, landing a few more slaps upon your cold skin.

A sharp gasp tumbles from you at the sudden impact. You’re already so wet and it has you whining for more as he rubs his palm over it soon after to soothe it, no doubt already leaving a mark that stings a reddish pink. 

“Imma give you what you want pretty.” Jungkook promises with a soft kiss to the back of your neck before he’s tugging your panties to the side, exposing your wet cunt.

His fingers trail over your folds and opening, feeling how wet you already are for him and he collects some of it, dragging the slick upwards to rub it into your clit. Moans leaving you at the way his fingers play with the sensitive bud. 

“Ohh! fuck.”

“God you’re so fucking wet. I’ve barely done a thing to you, baby.” His hard cock throbs at how needy you are for him and the satisfied moans leaving you. 

Jungkook can’t wait to finally feel you wrapped around him. He’s been wanting to fuck you so bad all night. Looking so hot and pretty in your cute outfit. It’s a crime you weren’t near him like he wanted you to be. Fuck your friends, they see you on a daily and he just wants you for himself all the time.  

“Want more, baby?. Want my fingers?. Hmm.” He never stops his assault on your clit, rubbing it back and forth, causing more wetness seeping out of you. It drips down your leg but you don’t care because you're so lost in the way he’s making you feel. 

“Want you- ughhh…want you inside. Please!.” 

Jungkook clicks his tongue, gripping your hip tighter to keep you steady on your wobbly legs. 

“Needa stretch you out first, pretty.” 

You shake your head, whining in frustration as he moves his fingers down to your opening instead with the intention of fucking you with them. 

“Nooo!. Please!. I can t-take it…mmm please.” 

Jungkook can no longer keep you both from what you really want and who is he to deny his pretty girl what she wants. After all, he just wants to make you feel good like you deserve. Like he promised. 

“Oh I know you can, baby.” Jungkook removes his hand altogether to start unbuckling his belt and unzips his pants. Pulling his thick cock out of his underwear, he hisses at his release from the restraining confines and brings his fingers back to your wet cunt. He gets them wet with your slick and wraps them around his cock for lubrication from base to tip. Groaning in satisfaction as he pumps his hard cock in his tight fist a few times. 

An impatient whine of yours as you try to reach behind for him, has him landing another sharp slap across your ass, tonguing his cheek in disappointment at your bad behavior. 

“Be a good girl and fuckin’ wait a second. You do that shit again and I’ll make you get on your knees n’ wait longer.” 

You whine, dropping your head in defeat because you don’t want to wait any longer. Your pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for him to finally be inside you.

He kneads at the fat of your ass, squeezing it hard in his big hands. Moaning as he appreciates the view of it before he’s pulling you back towards him. He holds the base of his cock and rubs it between your folds, getting it slick once more. Finally, his thick head pushes into your pulsing cunt. 

A throaty moan leaves you, loving the way he feels inside and how he’s stretching you out so good with his big cock your eyes nearly roll back at the sensation. 

“Oh fuckk baby…feel so f-fucking good.” Jungkook moans deeply in pleasure behind you, lost in the way your hot pussy wraps around him so snugly. With one hard thrust he buries himself to the hilt. He groans, throwing his head back as he pauses to bask in the feel of you around him. 

You feel so full of him and all you want is for him to lose all control and fuck you into oblivion like you know he can. 

You’re getting so impatient the more Jungkook just doesn’t move, all you do is whine and beg him to. His mouth falls open, a guttural moan leaves his lips at the way you suddenly clench around him so hard and he’s gripping your hips to stop you from moving against him. He slaps your ass once more, this time rougher that it leaves a hurtful sting. 

“So fucking impatient huh. Just can’t wait to be fucked like the little slut you are.” He grits through clenched teeth as his hand snakes its way up your body till it’s wrapped around your throat, yanking you back up to be flushed against him instead. 

Jungkook can’t help but want to be a bit mean to you. He knows you secretly love it. 

“Not gonna be sweet with you anymore, baby, since you wanna act out.” 

The way his deep voice gruffs against your ear, how you can feel him throbbing inside of you and the way his hand tightens around the base of your throat, cutting some of your air supply. You’re so turned on, moaning aloud and repeatedly clenching around him with a new wave of wetness gushing out of you. It drips down his balls and your thighs. 

“Ohh shit!…fuckkk.” 

You feel too good around him and he can’t possibly wait any longer. It’s all he’s wanted. He pulls himself back till only the tip of his cock is resting at your entrance then plunging himself back in hard, repeating the same motions as more moans fall from you, body jolting against him in his strong hold. 

All you can hear out here in the woods is how good Jungkook’s fucking you. The filthy sounds of skin slapping, choked moans and sobs uncontrollably spilling from you. The erotic squelching sound of how absolutely wet you are as he thrusts his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“Ohh yes!. Fuck…mo..more please!.”

Jungkook’s groans and moans of pleasure mixes with yours, loving the way you squeeze around him and suck him back in each time like you don’t ever want him to leave. He removes his hand from around your throat and instead moves underneath your shirt and bra, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple the way he knows you like. His fingers tug and roll the bud, adding to your pleasure. 

“You sound so pretty.” His breathy moan near your ear has you whining in response, reaching back with your hand to feel him. Fingers gripping tightly into the short locks of his hair. He lets you, loving the way you wanna cling onto him. Your harsh tugs has him groaning and it spurs him on as he fucks into you harder. 

A twig snaps somewhere near and it has Jungkook pausing his ministrations momentarily, head turning towards the direction it came from. Even though you barely heard it, you don’t care much, wanting him to continue so badly. You were already so close. 

He clasps his tattooed hand over your mouth to muffle your moans and tightens his grip on you to prevent you from moving against him. 

“Shut the fuck up for a second.” He growls frustratedly near your ear, turning back to look towards the trees, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he tries to see if anyone was near. 

You pant into his hand, chest heaving and trying to keep quiet like he demanded you to, but it’s hard when all you want is to cum around him. Feeling him plunged deep inside you with him not moving is pure torture. You start to move your hips against him on your own accord as you try to fuck yourself back on his cock. 

“You just don’t fuckin’ listen, huh?.” Jungkook grabs a fistful of the back of your hair and tugs it. 

“M’sorry.” You whimper helplessly. It almost hurts, feeling the tight hold he has on you.

“Oh, I don’t think so baby.” Jungkook huffs frustratedly as he rears his hips back, cock halfway inside you. 

“Just want you…” 

“Well since your so fucking desperate…” He fucks into you so hard and fast, uncaring how loud your becoming out here in the woods. Crying out and thrashing in his hold, taking what he’s giving you. 

“You wanted this, huh.” Jungkook yanks your hair back to whisper in your ear. A yelp leaves you at the harsh sting you feel on the back of your head. 

“To be fucked like a dirty slut out in the open where anyone or anything can see.” He chuckles deeply at the way you struggle to respond to him. Only choked sobs and whiny moans leave you. Mind a melted mess because of how good he’s fucking you. 

Jungkook never relents his inhuman pace, thrusting his hips into you from behind at a harsh pace. The strong hold he has wrapped around your waist and his hand tugging at your hair the only thing keeping you from falling apart. 

He shifts his hips upward at an angle that has you sobbing out as he forces you down onto his cock. 

“Yess there!. R-right there. Don’t stop, please! D-don’t-.” 

Jungkook loves every bit of it, the way you lose yourself because he’s fucking you so good with his big cock. He almost laughs at the mess he’s created of you. Fucked silly with no thoughts but him.  

“Dirty fucking slut, letting me fuck her out here in the woods.” 

He tugs at your hair again and he feels your sweet pussy clench around him so good he groans at the tight feeling. 

“So cock hungry for me, weren’t you?.”

Jungkook fucks you senseless in the middle of the woods, making you forget where you are. The cold is no longer a match for the way your entire body heats up as he reaches parts deep inside that have you seeing stars. Tears spring in your eyes, momentarily blurring your vision. It’s almost too much for you to handle as his fingers move lower to reach your aching clit and rub his calloused fingers over the nub. 

“Mmm p-please!. Ahhh!. I- please!.” Your high pitched whines only spur him on, hips snapping against yours roughly. 

“Please what?, baby. I’m giving you exactly what you want.” He teases in that mocking sweet tone of his. 

“You love it don’t you?.”

A barely audible yes leaves you in a whimper 

Jungkook snickers as he pulls your face towards him, pressing a messy kiss to the corner of your lips. Leaving a trail of saliva as he moves down towards the side of your face and jawline where he suckles little hickeys with the sudden need to mark you up anywhere he could. 

His brows pierce together and groans deeply at the feel of more wetness gushing around him as you cum, squeezing his cock so good. You shrink into him, whining as you do so when he never stops. Your pussy’s so wet he slides in with no resistance. Jungkook swears your pussy loves him so much and he loves how soaked he can get you, that he’s the only one who can. With one look or touch, your putty and always wanting more. 

“Taking me so fucking well, pretty doll. M’ not done with you.” 

Jungkook smiles sinisterly down at your fucked out form and he’s pushing your hair aside to expose more of your neck. Leaning down to lick a stripe from the juncture between your shoulder and neck all the way up towards your ear. He can smell you and you already taste so fucking good to him. All Jungkook wants is to mark up your pretty skin, sink his teeth in and taste you. His unsated hunger amplifies even more, but he restrains himself a bit longer, wanting to keep making you feel good first.

“Go ahead. Please.” You hold the side of his head close, prompting him to do as he desires but he pulls his head away. 

“Not yet pretty.” Jungkook grumbles. 

Suddenly, he halts his hips and pulls out of you. Before you could whine about it he’s turning you around and picking you up with ease to wrap your legs around him as he pins you against the thick tree. Not wasting any time to push his cock back into your soaping pussy and continuing his unrelenting thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot so deep the tears in your eyes spill over down your cheeks as you sob aloud. It sounds so sweet to his ears, cock twitching inside you at the need to cum. 

When he meets your gaze, the deep red that almost completely takes over his usually brown eyes should frighten you, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on to see him this way, almost losing himself because of you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. So fucking pretty like this. Always.” Jungkook pants against your lips, forehead resting against yours as he watches the look of pleasure on your face, the way you look underneath him so overwhelmed from how good he’s making you feel. 

Jungkook always likes to see you a mess, loves making one out of you. It’s just something about the way you lose control, submit yourself to him and take whatever he gives you. The fucked out look your giving him, the tears in your eyes and how they cascade prettily down your cheeks, your red lips falling open with moans you can’t contain.

 It drives him absolutely wild. 

He’s so close and the way your pussy flutters around him has his eyes nearly rolling in pleasure, moaning into your lips as he kisses you. Jungkook doesn’t hide his hunger for you. You match his pace, letting him taste you and meeting his strokes of tongue with the same passion he’s showing you. 

You tighten your legs around him and try pushing him even deeper, clinging onto him tightly. Fingers tugging the locks of his hair as you lose yourself against him. 

“You’re so good to me, pretty baby.” His lips trail down past your jaw to your neck once again, licking his favorite spot. “…so fucking good.” He lets his teeth graze gently against it. Hearing the way your blood pumps within your veins and heart. He knows you want it just as much as him with the way you pulse around him. 

“Can I have a taste?, baby.” You feel his lips move against your skin, breath fanning across. Within a heartbeat you nod your head above him, moaning out a quick yes, wanting to feel him sink his teeth in. 

He lifts his head back up only to kiss you once more, picking up his pace. Rasping hotly against you. “Need you to cum for me, one more time.” With his free hand, his fingers rub over your clit once more in rapid motions. 

Nibbling into your lips, you moan at the added pleasure it brings you. Your body overheats at the sensations and you feel that familiar coil tightening in the pit of your lower stomach. 

“Come on baby, cum for me.” Through gritted teeth he groans, feeling you tighten around his cock. 

“Want you to be a good girl and cream my cock baby. Do it for me.” 

“Ohhh fuckk…”

His words have you sobbing and he  rubs your clit faster in a way that has you keening on the edge of your climax. 

His lips find their way back to your neck and you feel as his sharp canines pierce through your skin, finally sinking his teeth in. A loud cry escapes you at the sharp pain you feel, clenching so hard around him as you come undone, soaking his throbbing cock. Your sweet blood fills his mouth and he moans at the delicious way you taste. His eyes roll back in euphoria as he drinks from you, fulfilling his hunger of the night. Jungkook almost doesn’t want to stop drinking from you. It’s so hard to pull away sometimes with the need to have every drop, but he loves you too much to ever let himself lose all control.

With the way you taste and clench around him tightly, it’s enough to send him over the edge, brows furrowed in intense pleasure, cumming inside you with a throaty groan. He doesn’t stop his hard thrusts until you're milking all he’s worth, filling you up so good it drips out from both of you. 

“God, I fucking love you doll…so much.” His forehead drops against yours and Jungkook presses one last kiss to your bitten lips. The metallic taste of your blood mixes in with both your saliva, creating a mess. 

“Such a good fucking girl for me.” Jungkook growls against you, sultry eyes completely red with madness as he stares down at you. Blood stains his lips, messily smeared down his chin. 

Your blissed out gaze makes him soften into a smile, sensing his venom taking its course and making you feel drowsy in a trance-like state. You smile up at him, cradling the side of his face as he leans down and laps his tongue at the marks he created upon your neck, licking you clean from the mess he made.

You’ve gone lax in his hold, completely spent from the escapade you just had. 

Slowly, he lifts you up a bit to slip himself out with a hiss and gently brings you back down to your feet where he tugs your panties back in place for you and pats your skirt down while he lets you hold onto him, even as he reaches down to tuck himself back in jeans. 

Feeling tired with jellylike bones, you pull him with you back against the tree, head resting against his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist, knowing your legs are still a bit wobbly and can’t balance yourself right now. 

It has him chuckling and he pats the top of your head before pressing a soft kiss upon it endearingly.

“Let’s get you out of here, doll.” 

Jungkook lifts you up once again to wrap around his waist as you continue to cling onto him. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder this time with soft caresses to your hair, walking back towards the cabin out of the deep woods. 

Your eyes flutter to a close, lulling to sleep as you feel so content in his arms. 

Once he reaches the cabin, your friends are all gathered in the living room watching some old slasher film. They eye him as he moves past with you cradled in his arms towards your shared room. He lays you gently on the bed, but your arms still cling around his neck, pulling him close. 

“Mm, sleep with me..” You mumble, your sleepy eyes staring up at him.

It’s cute how you try to keep them open to look at him. 

“Don’t worry baby, I will.” Jungkook presses a kiss to your cheek and then to your forehead as you finally let go of him and let him help you get comfortable on the bed. He removes your shoes for you and lays the cover over your sleepy form after.

The sight of you looking so peaceful with a smile on your lips melts his undead heart and all he wants is to always take care of you, to keep that smile on your face.

Jungkook gets one last look at you before he’s heading out the door and closing it shut, ignoring a few looks he’s getting from your friends on his way out the front door. 

They’ve always suspected some things about him. Jungkook knows some of then think he has bad intentions, but they couldn't be anymore wrong. He doesn’t give a fuck about what they think anyways, as long as you’re his and beside him. That’s all he wants and Jungkook has never wanted anything more in this life. 

He wanted to come out and chill for a few minutes before he decided to join you in bed. As he takes a seat on the first step of the porch, he notices Taehyung appear from the woods where he and you came from moments ago. 

“What were you doing out there?.” He suddenly asks in curiosity, nodding his head towards the trees. 

“If I notice one of her friends missing, I’m kicking your ass. She told us to be on our best behavior.” Jungkook mentions. Even if he really wouldn’t care if one of them did go missing, it’s something you had him promise you and he never wants to break your trust. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes, hands up in defense as he stops in front of Jungkook. 

“Relax, I only went for a piss.” 

Jungkook shakes his head, taking a sip from the bottle he grabbed for himself before coming out here. 

He tilts his head in thought, eyes widening as he suddenly realizes something. 

“That was you wasn’t it!.” Jungkook fixes him with a glare, narrowing his eyes up at him like he could kill him right now if he wanted to and he can. 

Taehyung’s lips curl up in a smirk, no doubt giving himself away. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear and I just had to see what was going on. Really dude, in the woods?.” Taehyung snickers, laughing at the pissed off look he’s getting from the older male that glares daggers into his being.

He makes it real easy sometimes for Jungkook to just kill him, get rid of him once and for all. An annoying bastard he’s lived with for centuries now.

Jungkook gets up off of the step and shoves him back by the shoulder hard, muttering a “fuck off” before heading inside. He wants nothing more than to be next to you instead, feeling your warmth and holding you close. He doesn’t like the fact that he knows his friend saw and heard you two fooling around in the woods.

“That fucking asshole.”

standing next to you:

pairing: dancer! jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || strangers to somewhat lovers

summary: with all those eyes on him, he only had eyes for you

word count: 4k

tags/ warnings: infidelity (womp womp), m/c has a crusty rich old bitch of a husband, smut in the forms of: dom! jungkook, who is a little condescending (because we all know i like that), subby! reader, semi-public sex?, oral (fem. receiving), unprotected sex, the pull out method (womp womp), multiple orgasms, cum marking? jungkook has a dick piercing!!!! lets goooo!!!!

notes: yippee jungkook gave me another smut idea. kinda half edited so if there’s mistakes then no there isn’t <\3

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

It couldn’t have been more than half a second, Jungkook’s eyes catching yours for the briefest moment as the spotlights dance over the crowd, what could have been mistaken for the galaxy reflected in your irises as you look at him.

The eyes that told a story of worship, how his mere existence was a crazed phenomenon your brain was barely able to process as you follow his body across the stage.

For months now, he would catch glimpses of you, always sat at the same table with the same people. Never once talking to them as your focus lays solely on him as he dances on stage.

Your face is soon veiled by one of his back-up dancers, flicker of a moment gone. Whatever was there, a short spark of interest simmering out as your face is no longer in his line of sight. Buzz of something a little more snapped, dissolving into fine dust under the orange hue of the light.

There was such innocent wonder in your eyes as your gaze flickers across the stage, entirely enamoured by what lay before you. The theatre nothing like you had ever seen before, ever so extravagant, and elegant. Male dancers dominating the stage, flowing as if they were dancing on ice, so free-spirited in the ways their bodies move.

Constant stimuli of such an event scratching the back of your mind—the way Jungkook moves enough for you to drown out the rest of the chatter behind you, your existence nothing to any of these people.

Your heart hammers in time with the base that tickles the bottom of your feet, broaches on the dancers’ jackets star-like as the spotlight finds its place back on stage, Jungkook’s face soon illuminated again. Face sculpted, a gift from the high heavens, a man that captures the hearts of many, man and woman alike.

He wonders if your eyes remain on him, bright with wonder as he glides across the stage, trying his hardest to find your eyes behind the harsh glare of the lights, sat ever so pretty, the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.

It’s only when the lights dim does he see the hand on your thigh, silver band of a wedding ring sat one of the fingers.

Though you don’t seem to notice, entirely focused on the stage you don’t seem to realise when your husband squeezes your thigh, entirely unaware when he pushes his chair back to stand up. Ignorant to the fact that he saunters over to another woman a couple of tables behind where you’re sat.

Left alone in the company of your husband’s friends, who have no means to talk to you, nor acknowledge your existence. Because who would talk to the wife of the man who clearly has no care for what should be his lover? And as much as you pretend to not notice, never once asking why he gets home so late, or the messages that flash across the screen of his phone, never once have you brought it up.

Because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t there to care, to worry about who got your husband’s dick wet or who was stuffed full of his cum, who had it dripping down their legs when he re-emerges after you hadn’t seen him for what felt like hours. You were there to look pretty, and to smile at any man that gives you attention, nothing more and nothing less.

Jungkook thinks you must be the first to stand on your feet once the performance is over, eager in your applause. Too shy to meet his eyes from where he looks down at you from the stage, but not enough to not show your appreciation for his art. Glittery shimmer of the dim light illuminating you, stood centre of the room, awe reflected from your face as you quickly glance up to look at him before the curtain lowers.

So many minutes of your life stolen by him, perfect in the way his body moved, moments you never wish you get back because you wished to watch him dance forever.

Your eyes flit down to the sliver of stomach that peeks from beneath his blazer when he raises his arms at the applause.

You swallow at the deep rumble of his voice as he thanks the crowd, turning to thank the back-up dancers too before he’s facing you again, hint of a smile on his face as he takes one final bow. The curtains falling from the ceiling, your hair tickling your neck at the short gust of wind it produces.

It takes a moment for you to gather yourself, mind reeling as you glance around the room. Entirely isolated, even with hundreds of people surrounding you.

You can’t see where your husband had wandered off to, swallowing down any apprehension you have as you sit back down, fingers gentle as they pick up the flute of champagne—too expensive for your tastes, and you hate to think just how much it costs. Much rather having the host spend that sort of money on the reason for this evening than wowing guests with expensive alcohol and high-end food. Because surely the fund raiser would fare better with all that money than the pompous assholes that laughed in the face of the less fortunate.

You almost jump out of your seat when a heavy hand lands on your shoulder, eyes wide as your tilt your head upwards to see who it could be. Heart hammering when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, flickering across his face.

You swallow, “Hi” you breathe, turning your body to face him a little better.

The corners of Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smile, piercings catching the light, “What’s a pretty girl doing sitting alone?”

He pulls out an empty chair beside you, your head flickering across all the empty chairs around the table, wondering where all your husband’s friends had gone.

“Oh just…” you start, turning back to look at him, words dissolving on your tongue when your eyes meet his.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair a little, legs spread wide. His eyes flicker down to the ring on your finger.

“I thought your performance earlier was amazing” you rush, hands running over your silk dress. Perfect change of conversation.

Jungkook leans a little closer to you, reaching across the table a little to grab your glass of champagne. Your eyes stay trained on his lips as they wrap around the rim of the glass, breath catching in the back of your throat as he downs the rest of your drink.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name?” he urges, eyes sharp as they flicker across your face.

“Y/n” you breathe, “and you are…”

“Jungkook” he holds out his hand for you to shake. You take it, toes curling, imaginary electric current slipping down your body at his gentle touch.

“I could show you backstage if you like?” he offers, hands smothering down the imaginary creases in his suit, nodding towards the stage, “It’s pretty nice back there”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes scanning the room for a moment before you’re looking back at Jungkook nodding, “I would like that” you murmur, taking his hand when he offers it to you. He tugs you a little closer to his side once you’ve stood up, linking your arm with his as he walks the both of you around the maze of tables.

Not once does it cross your mind that all the people in the room can see you clinging onto another man, eyes glued to the side of his face as you paint a picture of him in your mind. After so many months of watching him perform on stage, a perfect entity so far out of reach, he was not stood beside you. Warm flesh radiating underneath his suit jacket, scar on his cheek deepened from the overhead lights, calloused hand holding yours.

Someone that had felt entirely unhuman, so long of yearning, but there he was, touching you like it were nothing and he weren’t one of your dreams. Silly little fantasies of a man that should never be yours, dreams of what days would be like with someone like Jungkook. Dreams that should have never been yours to begin with, not while the slippery claws of the law tie you to another man.

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, helps you up the stairs backstage. Narrow hallway entirely empty as he flicks the light on, “It’s truly wonderful back here” he tells you, not letting go of your hand once.

You look around in awe, head turning to look over the outfits hung on clothes racks as you walk by.

“We can order food in my dressing room? I assume you haven’t eaten yet and I don’t think they plan to bring dinner out for a while longer” he tells you, pulling a set of keys out the front pocket of his jacket, opening the door with ease.

“I am a little hungry” you hum, stepping into the dressing room, sitting on one of the couches when he motions for you to make yourself comfortable.

Your eyes flicker towards the door when he locks it, apprehension clawing its way up your body.

“Jungkook…?” you ask, gaze never leaving the lock, even as he slinks towards you, long steps across the room having him in front of you in no time.

“You’re tense” he sits beside you, hand running down the length of your arm, “Let me fix that”

You don’t miss the dark haze in his eyes, cunt clenching at the mere thought of a man of his calibre wanting you in any sort of way.

You swallow, eyes glancing down at his lips then back up to his eyes, “We can’t” you whisper.

“Why’s that?” he murmurs, fingers training over your thighs, silk dress soft under his fingertips.

“Because…” you start, swallowing down a whimper when his fingers graze your warm skin.

“Because” he urges, teasing as he inches his fingers that little big higher.

“Because my—” you swallow, Jungkook’s scoff cutting you off.

“Because of your incompetent husband?”

You tongue wets your bottom lip, fingers clenching by your side, “Yes” your voice breathless.

“Leave him” Jungkook groans, hand tugging yours closer to him, slipping the wedding ring off your finger.

You watch as he holds it, prickle of guilt building within your chest at the fact you don’t feel bad in the slightest for what you want from Jungkook, nor the fact he holds a symbol of love and you can only wish for him to take it forever, no longer yours. No longer a burden you wish to carry.

He slips it into the pocket of his jacket, leaning forward enough for the tip of his nose to kiss yours, short huff of a breath slipping past his lips. He tilts his head a little, gentle hesitation tugging at his body; leeway for you to pull away and stop this whenever you want.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket, tugging him towards you. A groan catches in the back of his throat when your lips collide with his, desperate need radiating from every pore of your electrified body—tongue prodding at his bottom lip.

“My darling” he breathes in the brief moment you part, though he wastes no time tilting your head backwards that little bit as he kisses you again.

You hum against his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands wander the length of your body, thumbs digging into your hips, down the length of your thighs until he’s tugging at the hem of your dress.

Your pussy clenches as his fingers inch that little bit higher, moan caught by Jungkook as he ghosts over tender skin, pulling the fabric higher and higher until he’s brushing his knuckles over your panties. Damp beneath his fingers as he presses through your covered folds, your hips bucking upwards when he nudges your clit.

A breathy laugh is pulled from him as you rock forward a little, chasing the pleasure as he presses his thumb a little harder against your clit.

“Pretty girl” he murmurs, hand slipping from between your legs to tug at your dress, pulling it up and over your head.

Your arms fold over your bare chest, Jungkook’s tongue wetting his bottom lip as his eyes rake down the length of your body, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

“How beautiful” he says, bending down a little to press a gentle kiss over your collar bone. His hands leaving your thighs to tug your arms away from your chest, guttural groan vibrating from his chest.

You let out something similar to a squeak when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, goosebumps prickling up the skin of your arms at the flash of pleasure that shoots down your spine as his teeth graze over the sensitive skin.

Slick leaks into your panties as your hand grazes over the evident erection that strains behind the expensive fabric of his pant, cock twitching beneath the tips of your fingers as you squeeze his length.

“Want you” he ruts his hip upwards into your hand, tongue flat over your tits before he sucks at your warm skin, red blossoming with every mean little nip of his teeth. Claim of your body as his, evidence of his lust and your leaking pleasure that pools between your legs.

“You have me” you breathe, fiddling with the button of his dress pants, stumbling over yourself a little as he helps you lay back on the couch. He tugs your panties down your thighs, bottom lip tucking between his teeth as he watches the string of arousal that connects the cotton to your sodden pussy, all puffy and pretty. Clit erect and desperate, moan slipping off your lips when he leans down to press a kiss to the swollen little nub, pocketing your panties in his jacket.

“Jungkook” you moan, fingers digging into his hair, pulling him further into your pussy, hips rolling up into his face as he lays his tongue flat for you to ride.

He tugs down his pants and underwear just under his straining cock as you use him to get yourself off, shameless in your own pleasure as he moans into your pussy—incoherent whisper of how good you taste drowned out by the slick sound of your folds parting, fingers prodding at your entrance before sinking between your walls.

You clench around the intrusion, fingers tightening their hold on Jungkook’s hair as you moan out his name, mind nothing but lust filled mush, pleasure coursing through every inch of your body as he sucks on your clit.

“Gonna cum” you moan, fingers tugging at your nipples. Hiccup of his name catching in your throat at a particularly hard suck, thick fingers curling right over your sweet spot.

He presses a second finger into your, incessant nudge against your insides sending you reeling over the edge. A cry falling from your lips as you reach your peak, hips still rutting up into Jungkook’s mouth as you ride your high.

“Good girl” he murmurs against your pussy, fingers slipping out of you so he can drink down your release. Tip of his tongue pressing past your entrance to take whatever your body has to give him, cum coated fingers pressing slightly over your still buzzing clit, fiery pleasure thrumming beneath your skin.

“S’ too much” you whine, pushing his head from between your legs, sheen of your arousal coating his mouth and chin shiny.

Your eyes flicker down when something shiny catches the light, and they widen slightly when you see his hand wrapped around his thick cock, thumb running over the king’s crown piercing.

“Oh” you murmur, pussy clenching at the prospect of him being inside of you.

Jungkook hums, fingers squeezing tighter around his length, “You like it, baby?”

You swallow, tongue running over your bottom lip.

You nod, legs falling open a little wider for him, “Want it” you mumble, fingers parting your folds, silent invitation for him to split you open, fuck and fill you until you’re nothing than a pile of pleasure.

“Yeah?” his lips curl at the corners, hint of a smile showing.

“Mhmm” you nod, and his eyes catch sight of your cunt clenching.

“What do we say when we want something, baby?” he urges, scooting between your legs, pressing his cockhead through your folds, watching your hips jolt at the gentle stimulation to your clit.

You arch your back, dribble of slick caught by the tip of his cock as he slicks his length up with your arousal.

“Please, Jungkook” you breathe, “Please I need you”

“So good for me” he groans, thumb pressing just under his piercing, pressing his cock into you.

Your mouth falls open into a silent moan, ache throbbing down your length as his cock splits you open.

“Good girl” he murmurs, stomach tensing when you clench around his cock, piercing dragging deliciously against your walls.

“So good” you moan, hands finding his hips to pull him further inside of you, desperate for every agonising inch he had.

He holds himself inside of you, pelvis flushed with the backs of your thighs as he helps you rest your legs around his waist.

“Yeah, you feel good, baby?” he leans down, lips pressing against your jaw, fingers sinking into the flesh of your hips, gently rutting his cock into you, “Better than your husband could ever make you feel, yeah?”

He lets out a breathy laugh when he feels you clench around his girth, thighs twitching at his words.

“Come on baby, tell me how much better I make you feel” he taunts, dragging an inch of his cock out of you, distressed whine tumbling past your lips as your pussy clenches, trying to pull his cock back into you.

“Tell me” one of his hands takes hold of your jaw, tugging your face so your eyes meet his, “Tell me”

“You make me feel better than he does” you mumble.

“Louder” he shakes your head a little.

“You make me feel better” you say a little louder, chest tightening.

“Than who?” he urges, thumb running over your bottom lip, pressing into your mouth and over your tongue.

“My husband” you slur, mouth tugged open by his thumb.

“And who do you belong to?”

You blink up at Jungkook, drool gathering in the corners of your lips, such a pretty little thing. Ever so messy and desperate, awfully cute if you asked Jungkook.

“Who?”

You swallow, pussy clenching, “You”

“Mmhmm” he hums, “that’s right, all mine”

You rut your hips upwards, clit dragging against his stomach, thrum of pleasure making your toes curl, eyes still trained on Jungkook as you try and get yourself off.

He tugs at the corner of your mouth, thumb pressing into your cheek, watching as the skin bulges. And he wonders briefly what you’d look like with his cock stuffed in your mouth, pretty eyes blinking up at him like they did when he performed on stage; like he held all the secrets to the world in the palms of his hands. Those same hands that would smother your body with his love, dimpling pretty skin and pulling you back onto his cock.

“Jungkook” you whine, hips rutting a little more desperately, so needy for a second orgasm.

“A needy little thing, that’s what you are” his lips curl into a smile, thumb falling from your mouth as his hips pull backwards, your thighs quivering at the drag of his piercing inside of you.

He pulls out until the tip, hands tugging your thighs open a little wider before he’s snapping back into you, relentless as he picks up his pace. He holds you by the backs of your knees, angling your body that little bit off the couch, cockhead pressing against your sweet spot with every rough jab back into you.

“Shit, that’s good” he groans, wet smack back into you echoing off the walls of the dressing room.

You moan a staccato of his name, nothing but how good his cock fills you up in your mind, so entirely full of Jungkook in every respect of the word.

He doesn’t slow down, rhythmic with every thrust back into you, pussy clenching as your fingers slide down the length of your body, pressing over your sensitive clit.

“I’m close” you moan, free hand dragging down the length of his arm, grabbing at the fabric of his suit as your back arches.

“Come for me, baby” he groans, “Make a mess of my cock”

Your hand slips from his arm, grabbing hold of your chest as you continue to flick your clit, moan catching in the back of your throat as you slip head first into your orgasm.

Jungkook watches your face contour in pleasure, snapping his cock into you sloppy. He twitches between your walls, fingers digging into you a little harder, staving off his orgasm for as long as he can while you ride out your high, mind so far gone, eyes glazed over as you look up at him.

“That’s it, baby” his voice is gruff, pressing his cock against your sweet spot, your hips jolting, pleasure slipping into odd tingly overstimulation as he ruts into you, your fingers still pressing over your clit.

Jungkook moans, cock slipping out of you, his hand quick to wrap around his length. Slick noise reverberating in your ears as he brings himself over the edge, angling his cock so his cum paints your stomach. Thick string of white coating your skin, spurts of it shooting out of his cock. His stomach tenses, eyes slipping shut as he squeezes his cockhead, final spurt of his seed slipping just over your clit, joining the wet mess of your cunt as it slips down your folds.

“That’s a good girl” he groans, letting go of his softening cock.

He looks at you down the length of his nose, watching as you smear his cum over your skin, absolutely fascinated as it clings to your fingers.

His cock stirs in interest when you dip your fingers into your mouth, tongue licking up his release.

“You little minx” he laughs, bringing your legs back down, bending to press a kiss to your cum stained lips.

Your eyes slip shut as he kisses you, any tension left in your body dissolving as his tongue licks up his own release from your lips.

“Leave him” Jungkook murmurs, mouth hovering over yours, eyes still closed as the both of you bask in your afterglow. Skin sweat tacky, cooling slowly as his fingers dance over your skin, final humming of pleasure beneath your skin fizzling away.

“I can’t” you breathe.

“Run away then” he says, “with me”

Your eyes slip open, hand holding Jungkook’s jaw.

“Jungkook” you warn.

“What?” he mumbles, eyes slipping open to meet your own, “We can go somewhere far, he won’t find you… he won’t find us”

You wet your bottom lip, mind reeling as you weigh out your options.

“He doesn’t love you” his thumb runs over your cheek.

“I know” you whisper, eyes flickering between his, “But do you?”

Jungkook swallows, “Not as much as I want to, but that doesn’t mean what I’m feeling isn’t love”

You glance over at the clock on the wall, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as silence stretches out between the both of you.

You let out a long sigh, “We have an hour at most… before he’ll come looking”

Jungkook can’t help the smile that tugs onto his lips, “Then we should get going?”

The corners of your own lips tug upwards, “Yes… I suppose we should” you say, taking the hand he offers to help you sit up.

“Don’t make me regret this” you warn him as you slip your dress over your head, cringing at the drying cum that clings to your skin.

“I won’t” he promises.

good day miss jimjiminieerings 🫡 i hope i’m not being a bother for asking this but may we 😍 with deepest humility and pleasantries 🥹 have a tiny tiny sneak peek of your brothers bff single dad au 😍👉👈 😍? again if it’s not a bother miss jimjiminieerings!!! feel free to ignore this ask if u are unable to post– im just excited 😍🙏😅🥹

fail-safe (sneak peek)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

sneak peek 01

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.”

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

.

.

sneak peek 02

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing it against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

.

.

.

ruh-roh new series alert :O wanna read the entire first chapter of fail-safe now + gain early access to succeeding chapters + read other exclusive content?? subscribe to my patreon :D

also to get ahead of the questions: yes, this is a general fic aka it WILL be posted on tumblr too!!! i'll release it here mid-november :)

bts fics that radiate sheer utter brilliance

(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 1

hello, hello! please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did <3 note: all of these fics contain nsfw content (minors dni please). enjoy!

➺ the road to you - by @bonvoyagenoona

| ot7 x reader (tae focus) | 110k

au of all aus, best friend!taehyung, high school boyfriend!jimin, professor!yoongi, college boyfriend!jungkook, art enthusiast and city heartthrob!namjoon, barista!hobi, actor!jin, angst, fluff, smut, series

>>summary: "armed with your quick wit, creative passion, talent for storytelling, and innate understanding of your fanbase, you have met every challenge, surpassed every goal, and achieved the unimaginable. despite the earth shifting erratically under your firmly planted feet, you’ve always had a plan. you’ve made peace with the sacrifices you’ve had to make, and you’ve long forgotten the rejections and heartbreaks that came as a result. your agent keeps reminding you that you’re at the precipice of something new, that your audience is waiting for your next project with bated breath. this is usually when you thrive. so why do you feel so lost? and who can you count on from your past to help you find your way?"

➺ matilda - by @babystrcandy

| yoongi x reader | 141.8k

brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, slice of life, angst, fluff, eventual smut, series

>> summary: "loneliness had always been a constant for you, haunting you like a ghost; until your older brother’s best friend, min yoongi, came into your life. you both promised each other something back then - you’d always have his support and he’d always have yours. but with time and age, you weren’t sure how much that all still stood to be true."

➺ bitchin' - by @kinktae

| jungkook x reader | 49.5k

1980’s au, inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before, e2l, fake lovers/college au, frat boy!jungkook, smut, series

>> summary: "the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook."

➺ flower - by @readyplayerhobi

| hoseok x reader |

online dating au, fluff, future angst, future smut, series

>> summary: "you finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the flower dating app. one of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. what happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

➺ suncity - by @jamaisjoons

| hoseok x reader | 17k

strangers to lovers au, vacation au, angst, fluff, smut, oneshot

>> summary: "when you’d taken a spontaneous trip to barcelona, you hadn’t expected to meet hoseok. more than that, you hadn’t expected to begin a torrid affair with him."

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

| jungkook x reader | 40.9k

fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc, s2l, fwb, smut, angst, oneshot

>> summary: "jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return."

➺ peach parfait - by @jamaisjoons

| seokjin x reader | 19k

enemies to lovers au, fluff, smut, slight angst, two parts

>> summary: "you and seokjin have always been at odds as the top two chefs at big hit academy of culinary arts."

➺ tell me no lies - by @jeongi

| jungkook x reader | 15.1k

ceo au, criminal au, robbers au, angst, smut, minimal fluff

>> summary: "you chose to rob your boss, however; you never expected to fall in love with him."

➺ concrete king - by @bratkook

| jungkook x reader | 16.7k

sweet summer romance, fluff, smut, himbo energy, two parts

>> summary: "when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor there's no way you could ever say no to him."

[ You ] Pt. 1

10 part series

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x F! Reader

Chapter Summary: You meet him for the first time and saying it was a good impression might be an understatement.

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol, weed, smut, penetration (protected tho).

Song: Cigarette

Word count: 1.8k

A/n: finally here! This is very short but that’s because I’m planning on this being 10 chapters long and it will be a retelling of their story progression, so i think the chapter length will depend in how their relationship starts to change.

Being crammed in a small janitor closet, with music blasting in the background while a man’s hand is down your skirt was something you had not expected for tonight. If anything, you were surprised of how boldly you had acted, going over to [him] and taking his hand on yours, making him stumble as he walked right behind you.

Your typical night would look completely different, usually being in bed by 10 pm after an exhausting day at work ,but your friend knew this, and thats why she had insisted on taking you out for the night.

Regret had washed over you as soon as you enter the busy club , with groups of people standing all over the place leaving almost no space to walk by. The whole place reeked of alcohol, sweat, smoke and weed. You made a mental note on never coming to a place like this ever again. Ever.

-I don’t think this is a good idea. You saw those people by the entrance fighting each other?.

You said with a worried expression.

-that’s how these type of places get, drunk people get in their feelings all the time, don’t worry about it.

Your friend looked nonchalant about it.

She finds a spot at the bar area, and leans forward trying to get the bartenders attention and order some drinks.

Looking at your surroundings, it was then that you saw [him]. Drinking from a champagne flute, he was surrounded by a group of young men and women. He seemed just as lost and disinterested as you were, glancing over the crowd for what you assume was merely his own curiosity. Moving your eyes onto the rest of the crowd you realized you needed a quick smoke break.

-I’m going right outside, can you pass me my pen.

Reaching inside her purse , she gives it to you as well as your phone.

-are you ok? Do you want me to go with you?

-nah, i just need to get a little high, all this people are making me feel so fucking nervous.

Pushing through the crowd, you find the exit sign and take a spot right next to the entrance door. The weather was a little too humid for this time of the year but then again, this summer had been a little unpredictable. People continue to go in and out as you take a few hits of your pen, nerves finally relaxing after a few minutes. You walk back inside and see that your friend is already with someone, her eyes find you in the crowd but you give her an okay sign with your hand, not wanting to interrupt her interaction.

Walking among the people, you feel someone’s stare on you. Trying to find who it was, you start glancing around and thats when both of you catch a glimpse of each other. He quickly looks away and you follow suit, walking to the bar and deciding on taking something, anything, to help with the anxiousness.

After a few drinks, or a few too many to count, you felt like any sense of prudence had left your body entirely. You start looking around trying to find the stranger from earlier and you see him walking in from the entrance. Against better judgement you start walking towards him, and before you knew it , with his hand on yours, you were taking him to the first room you could reach, cringing at the “employees only” sign hanging from its door.

-Hi.

You mentally face palm for not coming up with a better introduction.

-Hi.

He said a little out of breath, but not entirely freaked out as you had expected.

-I saw you staring and thought you would be interested…

-Y-yeah, im sorry, i wasn’t trying to be weird or anything i just-

-Oh it’s fine, we don’t have long though, do you want to have sex?

He had look bewildered by your question but it wasn’t long before he went in for a kiss while placing his hands on your lower back. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you pulled him closer , making your way to his belt, you started unbuckling his pants , feeling him and teasing his cock over his briefs, moaning into the kiss as you felt him getting aroused. At this point you could feel yourself getting impatient, and quite frankly, too wet too. His hands had also found their way to your ass, and you could feel his hand bunching up the fabric of your skirt.

-do you have a condom?.

You break away from his lips. The idea of having sex today had not crossed your mind when leaving home, and you hoped he was at least more prepared than you were.

-fuck, I actually don’t-

-I’m sorry, we can’t have sex without a condom, you know-

-wait, I’ll go find one, just give me a minute ok?

Zipping his pants back up he opened the closet door and left before you could answer him. Being in that small dark room made you realized how impulsive and irresponsible this decision was. Having sex with a complete stranger, in a semi-public space (you noted this to save yourself from even more guilt than the one you were already feeling), you knew you were about to regret all of it the next morning.

The door opens again after a minute and there he is, slightly grinning at you while showing you the packet in his hand.

-My friend had one on him, are you still ok with this?

Feeling humiliated, the way he looked at you made you realized embarrassment was probably written all over your face.

-yeah, you know, im actually sorry for going up to you and bringing you here just like that. I usually don’t do things like this-

-things like “this” what?

Maybe it was your mind playing games on you, or the way he had slightly smirked, but his question made you more aware of how pathetic you were being right now. You glance at his hand and take the condom from him.

-sex…shall we?

Shyly going for his belt again, this time he moves your hand away, taking it off himself. You look up to him just to find his eyes were already on you, closing the small distance between both, as he starts kissing you again. He becomes bolder, sneaking his hand inside your skirt, softly touching your core until his fingers are opening you up. The pleasure had your mind swirling in excitement, wanting to feel him on you, in you. Grasping at his cock , you start to gently jerk him off, feeling his precum spread all over your hand. Suddenly you feel yourself being picked up as he places you on top of a storage cabinet.

-you can tell me to stop, ok? We can slow down if you need to…

He takes back the condom packet, opening it with his teeth and slowly rolling it on himself. He tugs at his cock before he starts to tease at your slit, placing it between your folds and slightly moving back and forth. While looking over you, making sure you were still ok with this, he sees your lips slightly open, eyebrows clearly frowning in deep pleasure, you were definitely okay with this, he thought . As for you, surely the bravest thing you’ve done that night was bringing this man into this closet with you , however, right now, you grab his cock and slowly push it inside you while looking into his eyes . Yeah, this probably wins the prize. Both of you were surprised by your sudden action, and it was at this moment he had lost any control he had shown throughout the night, lowering himself to kiss you , pushing his tongue inside your mouth while pushing his cock entirely inside you.

-f-fuck, you just feel so good. Are you sure you don’t usually do this?

His tone definitely mocking your past statement.

-please just fuck me, i just c-cant-

-can’t what? You bring me here to fuck y-you and now you can’t fuck yourself on me? C’mon b-baby I’ll help you.

He brings you closer to him, making you moan against his lips, feeling the way his cock stretched you out was making you see stars. If there was heaven on earth , you were now sure this man kept it inside his pants.

His pace begins to pick up, going on faster and faster as he felt your walls clenching, snuggling him deeper and deeper inside of you.

With his eyes trained on you he says.

-Do you make that pretty face when you want a m-man?

-I-I don’t know w-what you’re talking ‘bout…

You slightly moan as you reply to him.

-well…i hope you don’t….aghh.

He gives a sudden firm thrust, cursing as he leans in to kiss you once again.

Placing your legs around his waist, you start grinding your hips against his, chasing your high.

-nghh… i-im cumming, pleas-

-I got you

Stroking your head with one hand, he thumbs at your clit as he whispers into your ear.

-you doing so good for me, so so good….c’mon baby, show me how much you like how i fuck you..mhhmm.

You let out a whine as you feel the orgasm embrace your entire body, slightly clawing at his shirt. He pulls out after a while, jerking himself off and eventually removing the condom.

Bringing yourself down from the cabinet, you start pulling and fixing your skirt, wincing at the wet feeling of your arousal running down your leg. You turn around and find him starring.

-do you want me to go find you some tissues? I’ll be right back-

-wait no….no, i just, I’ll just find some myself.

-I can go, I don’t think you’ll be confortable walking like this outside.

-it’s fine, they’re all too drunk to even realize. Bye.

You wave your hand and open the door, immediately trying to place the restroom and pretending it was completely normal to come out from a storage room.

After peeing and wiping any residue, you walked out the restroom shaking your hands, cursing at the fact they didn’t have a hand dryer.

-hey!!

-what the fuck- oh god it’s you, you fucking scared me!!-

-shit, I’m sorry… i didn’t mean to scare you, i was just waiting for you.

You were confused.

-waiting for me? Why…

-I didn’t get your name, you kinda just left me back there.

You start walking towards the exit. He follows right behind you.

-I’m not sure what you want my name for.

-I was thinking maybe we could go on a date…

You freeze. Having sex with a stranger was definitely out of line for you, but going out with said stranger was a bigger no. A laugh comes out of your mouth.

-listen, this will sound ironic, but i don’t go on date with stranger.

-you haven’t ask for my name you know…

Walking to the sidewalk outside of the club, you squint your eyes trying to read the car plates, searching for your uber. You turn around and sigh.

-maybe I don’t want to kno-

But before you could finish your sentence, he interrupts.

-my name is Jin..short for Seokjin.

You hear a beep coming from your phone. The uber had arrived.

Jin looks at you expectantly.

.

.

.

.

.

.

-my name is y/n.

Flower Masterpost

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Warnings: Depression, anxiety, self-loathing, lack of self-esteem, oral sex (receiving and giving), penetrative sex, fingering, kink exploration, anal, panic attack, discussions of car accidents, mentions of character death, body issues, sex toys, stress,

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

Updated every Sunday at 7pm BST

Keep reading

forest bride — myg

FOREST BRIDE | Min Yoongi | Oneshot | Requested by Anon

Original Request: hii i would like to request an arranged marriage au that turned out as a healthy relationship, unlike where oc came from y'know family full of mistreatment and favoritism. any member is fine! thank u! Plot: The business transaction of a marriage between two previous warring clans takes an unexpected turn. Pairing: Yoongi x OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Historical Inspired | Arranged Marriage Rating: 18+ Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: emotionally distanced family dynamics, emotional abuse and bullying from family members, minor character death (mentioned), angst, explicit sexual content (unprotected, gentle). Author's Note: This was soo much fun to do! I hope you like reading it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this <3

Kiku was a quiet daughter amongst children of four in the Moon Clan. She was in the middle of the line of birth, often keeping to herself while her father doted on her brothers and her mother babied Hanaka, her sister. Kaito, the oldest son of their family, was the only person who ever paid attention Kiku.

He taught her how to play the Koto when they were younger. The soft plucking of strings were the only sounds she made in her household. Her mother, Keiko complimented the sound with the assumption that it was Hanaka. When Kaito explained that it was Kiku, their mother pointed the lack of precision at the ends of each verse.

Kiku felt safe and comforted under the wing of Kaito.

But fate had other plans.

Kaito grew sick after a hunting wound turned gangrenous and the winter only worsened his condition. When he passed, Kiku felt the searing and back-breaking weight of her family's scrutiny.

Suddenly she was no longer Kaito's companion. She was a mouth they didn't want to feed.

On the fresh cusp of spring, her parents unceremoniously announced her arrangement to marry the chief of the Onyx clan. Their rival.

"Kaito said they were dangerous," Kiku said as she knelt on the ground of their main living area. Her parents stared down at her while Hanaka and their younger brother Haruki sat on the cushioned mat.

"Kaito isn't here. Don't name him when we haven't finished mourning, stupid girl," Keiko spoke through gritted teeth.

"You will marry Chief Min Yoongi and give this family an important alliance," Daiki said with a finality to his tone.

The Onyx Clan was notorious for raiding other clans, enslaving their high-born families and treating any foreign spouses like dirt. Preventing them from causing any problems in the Moon Clan was to keep them at bay with something that they didn't think was a risk.

Keiko would never send Hanaka to a place like that. Perhaps Kiku was prepared specifically for this very alliance, forcing themselves not to love her so they could make a difficult decision. Perhaps that was just her own heart trying to find a glimpse of love in a place that had none for her since the beginning.

Kiku lowered her head in a solemn acceptance, her dress still black and her heart still raw from mourning the only family member who loved her. "I will do as you wish."

-

The wedding flourished during a misty, cold morning just at the skirts of dawn where purple kissed the edges of the mountains. Kiku wore a white dress of pretty silk, embroidered in both ivory and crimson thread as if the cloth bled. A white veil laid over her head giving the world around her more of a misty vision.

They held the wedding in the central border between the Moon and Onyx Clan. There was a gentle plain where it was decorated with flowers, divided with wood and a tea set prepared on a small wooden table. Her father walked her over to the table.

Kiku forced herself not to look at her groom just yet. Instead staring at the teapot in front of them, spouting a plume of steam with the faint hint of jasmine and honey in her nose. Tea ceremonies during weddings were a common tradition amongst both clans. Thankfully, it was a tea that Kiku enjoyed but the symbol of it dawned on her like a heavy weight on her back.

Sharing tea with a man outside her family was a sign that she was now connected to him. Bonded to him. A man that Kiku hadn't even looked at yet. So she gained some bravery within herself and stared up.

Min Yoongi wasn't a large man but he was taller than her. In this vulnerable state, he looked like a looming statue. It wasn't necessarily his stature but his presence that created weight. His black eyes pierced deeply into her as if peeling off layers of every protective sense she had of herself.

A deep scar ran down his eye, making it a little greyer than the left eye. His lips were pursed and a little pink while his pitch black hair was long to the nape. Short hair was often a sign of a deadly warrior. Someone who killed many without mercy and had little honour. At least that was what her parents told her.

The esteemed monk stepped to the front of the altar and began to recite ancient chants of a bonding ritual. Kiku tried to focus on the words but she couldn't stop keeping Yoongi's gaze. His eyes softened just then when she wasn't loosening her gaze either. As if he was waiting for her to look at him.

For a brief moment, Kiku noticed something gentle behind that demeanour. Or perhaps it was yet again her mind tricking her into feeling something positive when her world was turning upside down and she couldn't do anything about it. Yoongi glanced briefly over to the monk as they stepped to the table.

He waved his hands as he spoke his chants before gesturing to a young boy.

It was the father's duty to pour the tea. So Daiki poured it with a solemn face, almost bored. The waft of jasmine and honey coated her nose, giving her some comfort.

The groom shared his tea with the bride first. Yoongi's hands were veined heavily as if he were training in the dark hours of the morning before coming here. He reached out carefully, slow enough so Kiku didn't feel shocked. He pulled at the fabric and revealed her face, the cold morning breeze kissing her heated up skin.

Yoongi picked the tea cup, softly placing the brim of the cup to her lips.

Kiku kept her eyes on him right until she felt the warm honey touch of the tea on her tongue. She slowly pressed her lips together as he pulled the cup away. Just as Yoongi's cup clinked down, she picked up her own cup.

Yoongi lowered his head a little, making it easy to her to gently tip the cup. He took a sip, his throat bobbed up and down before she placed it back on the table.

The ceremony had been sealed. Even as Kiku foolishly tried to look back and say goodbye to her family, her mother was already fixing Hanaka's hair and her father continued speaking to Haruki. Niether of them gave any indication that they wished for a goodbye so Kiku turned back without a word.

Yoongi held her hand, just barely brushing at first to ensure Kiku would respond.

Kiku curled her fingers around his, allowing him to fully intertwine together before making way to the horses.

Yoongi clasped her waist, pushing her up to sit on the horse. Then he sat behind her, grabbing the reins as the scent of rain wafted in Kiku's nose.

The air turned wet to the touch and she noticed the darkened splotches on the tree bark of a soft drizzle slowly turning to gentle rain.

"Are you sure you don't want to speak to them?" Yoongi uttered his first question as her husband and Kiku wasn't sure how to respond or feel.

Kiku glanced briefly at her family, seeing Haruki rubbing his brow in boredom while her mother was still having a conversation with Hanaka, touching her chin. Still none of them tried to look her away. "It's alright."

Yoongi didn't order the horse to move for a few minutes before a small hum vibrated through his chest, tingling her back. "Very well," he said. He made a clicking noise and the horse began to gallop at a steady pace.

The forest that was considered Moon Clan's territory was an identical stream of teal leaved trees and small wildflowers, clustered amongst light brown mushrooms and wet lands. Kiku enjoyed walking through them purely because it was peace outside of her household.

However, Onyx Clan's territory harboured something so different that it almost felt magical. There were still those collections of teal leaved trees that wafted a sweet scent. Other than that, she saw patches of yellow and pink flowers, flat mushrooms that blushed at the edges and pretty deep green vines that wrapped around dark tree bark.

The sun began peeking a sharp light at the edge of the mountains, making the distant rivers look like melted gold.

The Onyx Clan itself was a beautiful village, with calmly sleeping cows and horses in their stables. Night food stalls open for business as families were out to eat chilli noodles and honeycomb candy. Moon Clan was so used to clean diets and fresh fish that the deep, spiced notes of the stalls overwhelmed Kiku, reminding her even more than she wasn't in her old household anymore.

People of the Onyx Clan gave way when they noticed Yoongi riding into the village. Their faces filled with smiles and excited whispers as they noticed her white dress. A little girl waved shyly at her.

Kiku hesitated but waved back with a faint smile.

As they arrived to the main cluster of houses for the high-born Min family, Kiku saw a group of people waiting for them.

Yoongi jumped off the house with a thud before gently holding onto Kiku again and helping her onto the ground as well. A small set of stairs led up to the cluster of houses.

When they reached, the older woman in centre gave a kind smile. By the way she was dressed in a beautiful silk kimono and the way Yoongi bowed low when seeing her, Kiku knew she was the matriarch of the family. Seeing so much kindness after her grief was something Kiku hadn't prepared herself to expect. So for a moment, she felt lost and unable to respond. She managed to give a wide enough smile.

"Bloody hell, Yoongi, you scared the shit out of her," a young woman from the side chuckled. Not in mockery but just jovial nature.

"Yun," the older woman reprimanded with a serious expression. "Manners." She turned back to Kiku with a smile. "Sorry, my dear, I understand you're in a new place. And our clans haven't had the best relationship but you are family now." She reached out and touched her hand.

Kiku could've been moved to tears at a warm mother's touch but she kept herself strong.

"My name is Hwayoung," she said. "These are my daughters Nari and Yun. I have a son named Yeong but he's away on a trip and will return tomorrow."

Kiku nodded. "It's lovely to meet you."

Hwayoung's flickered to Yoongi. "Let's have dinner and then you both can go rest."

After their dinner concluded and Kiku's belly was warm, they convened back to their bed chambers.

Kiku was given night dresses and also new clothes for the next few days. Especially since her family didn't give her any dress to take except for one.

For a while, the room was left empty with just Kiku watching the fire flicker before skimming through the books laid upon the mantle. It was mostly war and history stories along with some manuals on mastering the sword. Kiku wished she had some books on the Koto to play and fill her days that didn't have to do with having Yoongi's children. But she wasn't sure.

Hwayoung and Yoongi's sisters seemed nice enough but there was no way of telling whether it was a momentary ruse. After all, they couldn't be rude to her in front of everyone. Although a part of Kiku wanted to believe that their kind faces were genuine.

The door then clicked open. Yoongi walked through, wearing a relaxed black silk shirt and his hair tousled as if he had just taken a bath. He closed the door behind him, expression taken aback for a moment as if he hadn't expected someone in his bed chambers before softening.

"Do you have everything you need?" Yoongi asked.

"Yes, thank you." Kiku walked forward to him as he sat at the edge of the bed. She didn't say anything yet but Yoongi's throat bobbed up and down.

Stammering, he said. "We can just sleep."

Kiku blinked curiously. Of all the things she expected, this wasn't one of them. It was relieving that he was kind but to completely let her adjust to the new place was not on the list of expectation. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Yoongi said, keeping his eyes on her. "It's been a long day. We should both rest."

Kiku intertwined her fingers together and nodded, feeling a strange warmth in her chest. "Alright. Good night."

-

In the morning, Kiku awoke to an empty space in her bed. When one of the maidservants entered to serve her, she explained that Yoongi went out to train early in the morning just before breakfast to keep him awake.

Kiku hoped she didn't look scared to deter him into performing any marital duties. Perhaps throughout the day, she could try to comfort him. She knew what she was getting into.

After taking a warm bath with the maidservant being surprisingly gentle and kind, Kiku was called into breakfast by Hwayoung.

The Min family gathered under a gazebo structure made from black wood. It was round and the food laid out smelled like home in a place that hadn't been her home for a full day yet. Baked fish, soups, rice, fruits for sweetness. It was a spread for something that usually rushed in her family. Or at least Kiku would have to eat quickly.

Kiku sat down next to Yoongi while Yun and Nari continued on their conversation. Yoongi's brother, Yeong came in from his trip and he looked a softer compared to his older brother and smiled often. Usually making jokes with his mother.

Yoongi ate fish and seemed to prefer the soups over rice.

While the others were deep in their conversation, Kiku leaned in slightly. "How was training?" she asked.

Yoongi looked up, again a little shocked but quickly softened. "It was good."

"Yoongi gets quite sore after his training, Kiku," Yun said with a small smirk. "Maybe later in the afternoon, you should give him a massage. Lord knows he needs a good one."

Yoongi glared for a moment but Kiku found it endearing.

"Yun," Hwayoung reprimanded but with a playful air this time rather than the disciplinary one of last night. "Kiku should not be forced to do anything she doesn't want to."

Kiku stammered. "I'm alright with it. I used to give shoulder massages to my brother all the time."

Yoongi cleared his throat. "It's really alright." He nodded.

Kiku smiled politely, lowering her head.

"Perhaps Kiku should come spend the day with us since brother insists on being boring," Yun said.

"I am new here," Kiku said.

"A tour then," Nari said.

Hwayoung perked up. "You can take her down to the markets and get some silks or jewellery. There's lots of music playing there too."

Kiku blinked curiously. "Would there be any Koto players?"

"You like the Koto?" Hwayoung asked.

"My brother taught me how to play." Kiku's heart clenched at the mention of him again. It had been so lovely to be in a place like this. How nice would it have been if their family all spoke so easily to one another.

"That's sweet. How is your brother now?"

"He's passed away," Kiku said.

"I'm sorry, my dear." Hwayoung's eyes turned sad. Both of empathy for her but something else. "I lost my husband a while ago as well. I understand it can feel empty." The table turned quiet for a few moments to remember their father

"Thank you." Kiku's words were simple but Hwayoung didn't fully realise just how much comforting words directed at her. Like a warm, tight hug that she could cry into.

-

Kiku spent her time walking around with Yun and Nari as they explained all the ins and outs of the clan's main village. They had three smaller towns that used the same supplies and answered to Yoongi as Chief but this was the clan that Yoongi's ancestors had built and it was beautiful.

Nari took her to the bookshop and silk store. Kiku bought herself a pretty purple silk dress while also getting books on poetry that she used to enjoy listening to. A poetess would visit their clan when they were younger and Kaito would work in the shadow puppet shows to re-enact them.

It was one of the few things Kiku was allowed to watch with the family while helping Kaito work with the puppets.

Then they went to the food stalls. Kiku ate spicy dumpling noodles with mushrooms foraged from the forest. Apparently they helped with childbearing as the old woman stated, clearly knowing that it was going to be her who bears the next Chief. Kiku hadn't quite let that sink in but even when she did think about it, it wasn't a horrible thought.

Kiku, Yun and Nari then made their way to the training grounds once their bellies were full and their cheeks hurt from laughing. Kiku hadn't laughed or smiled like this since Kaito made jokes to cheer her up. While they did bicker, Yun and Nari seemed like they were close and loving to one another.

Kiku wondered if Hanaka and her would have ever been like that if their mother didn't get involved so much.

At the centre of the training grounds, Kiku saw Yoongi training with his younger brother Yeong. He spoke instructions for Yeong to follow, keeping one hand behind his back as if to hinder himself from making any strong moves. Yeong kept his hands tight on the hilt of the sword, swinging right against Yoongi's parries as the clang of steel whistled in the air.

Kiku found herself seeing the concentrated scrunch of his dark brows, sharp jawline a little clenched as he parried another attack. His black hair was tied back with chunks of it falling over the frame of his face. "He does this every morning."

Yun hummed. "You like what you see?"

Kiku cleared her throat. "It's nice he's teaching his brother."

"Yeong should focus on his studies too but he keeps running to brother for more training," Nari said. "Yoongi never refuses. He likes training for no reason."

"Ever since father died, brother trains constantly. There's no war but he always says there might be danger," Yun said. "Even with your alliance, he's still weary." Nari quickly nudged her arm and for the first time, Yun felt a little uncomfortable.

Kiku pursed her lips together. She wondered if Yoongi was suspicious that her father would run an attack on them regardless of their alliance. While Kiku was a small risk to lose in the family, her father still may break the deal. She had little trust in her father and wouldn't be surprised if he wishes to prove some kind of point.

As she shifted in and out of her thoughts, Kiku saw Yoongi turn to notice them watching. Notice her watching. Kiku tried to look down at the wrapped silk dress in her arms, hoping it wouldn't look too suspicious. Yoongi turned to tell Yeong to take a break before making his way over to Kiku.

"Looks like your husband wishes to speak to you." Yun smirked, returning to her demeanour as if nothing happened. She pushed Nari towards Yeong to speak to him instead.

Yoongi raised his brow as his sisters rushed away. Beads of sweat had formed on his hairline as he met Kiku's gaze. "They didn't bother you too much?"

Kiku was shocked by what sounded like a genuine question. "No. They were lovely. They showed me around the main town."

"I can see that," Yoongi said before giving his sword away to a servant. "Come with me."

Kiku nodded and followed him out of the training grounds.

They moved from the training grounds back into the cluster of houses where the Min family resided. Yoongi escorted her to their personal house and Kiku wondered whether Yoongi wanted to pursue their marital duties now that he was given time.

It was strange but Kiku's heart pounded not quite out of fear or worry. It was simply curiosity and perhaps even a little excitement. Everything Yoongi had done so far was give her comfort.

As they entered the main house, a beautiful polished Koto stood in the living area.

Kiku's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the Koto which had beautiful ivory finishes and a soft chair to sit on while playing. "Is this for me?" she asked in a low tone.

"You said you used to play Koto. I figured you'd like to play in your free time," Yoongi said. "Your parents didn't pack much for your trip." He shrugged.

Kiku's lips parted as she reached out and touched the Koto. Memories of playing with her brother and learning every note with him burst in her like sweetness. Tears formed a thin gloss on her eyes, as she took a deep breath.

"Is it alright?" Yoongi asked.

"It's perfect," Kiku said. She turned and smiled. "Thank you. You didn't need to do that."

"It was nothing," Yoongi said. "It's your home now too."

Kiku nodded as her heart swelled.

"Also if my mother starts giving you too many lessons, I can get you a secret room."

Kiku let out a small chuckle. "It's okay. I'd like a lesson."

Yoongi pressed his lips together, a hint of a soft smile forming on his features which only made Kiku's heart warm.

-

Kiku's time in the Onyx Clan was far more pleasant and loving than she ever expected. Before she even realised, four months had passed. Kiku spent days with Yun and Nari, had meals with Hwayoung and then spent a quiet night with Yoongi. It was still innocent between the two of them but she enjoyed those quiet moments sharing things about their day. Yoongi still didn't speak on any personal things and Kiku didn't want to pry on how he got the scar on his eye or about his father's death. But it was still nice.

Kiku nearly forgot that she had another life prior to these few months. It was only when her younger brother, Haruki came to visit the clan. Discomfort returned to her chest, aching and making her twitch. She barely spoke to Haruki and every time they had a conversation, it was malicious. Haruki found joy in insulting her and demanding her to do things as a way to mimic their father.

Kiku reminded herself that she wasn't in that place anymore. This was her home too. She wore her new purple silk dress and pinned her hair up while the servants prepared a tea set on the floor table.

Haruki entered the private house as escorted by the servants. A childish grimace on his face as always but his chest puffed to look like father.

Kiku kept sited at the table.

Haruki stood over her for a few moments as if waiting for her to stand. "You wouldn't bother to see your brother at the border."

"You've come at a busy hour," Kiku said. Truthfully, she wanted to be in the warm comfort of her home to breathe easy and hide her shaking fingers. "What did you need?"

Haruki scoffed and sat down, tapping the side of the teacup. "Father's dead."

Kiku had little love for her father but she still sit in a moment of silence, unable to know what do with the news. "What happened?"

"We need more supplies," Haruki said, ignoring her question.

It was courtesy anyway so she didn't ask again. "The Moon clan has spare granaries for those occasions."

"We have an alliance." Haruki eyed her up and down. "I'd expect you to tend to it since you're clearly not tending to any children."

"What happened to the granaries, Haruki?" Kiku asked, emphasising his name.

Haruki pursed her lips, keeping his eyes on her gaze and waiting for her to look down. When she didn't, Haruki's face twitched. "We'd been using it."

"For what?"

"That's none of your concern," Haruki said.

"So not emergencies then," Kiku said.

"You can't speak to me that way." Haruki chuckled bitterly.

"I'm the Lady of this territory and your older sister, I can speak to you in whatever tone is necessary." Kiku narrowed her gaze. "What happened?"

Haruki tightened his jaw like a stubborn child. "We'd been taking from it for the banquets. Father and mother celebrated a lot because you were gone."

"And after brother's death," Kiku said.

"Don't talk about brother."

"He was my brother too. More a brother than you ever were."

Poison laced in his voice. "Kaito spent time with you because he felt bad for you. You were this pathetic thing crouching around everywhere. The only time people said anything nice about you was in order to fuck you. Don't pretend you were someone special to him or Yoongi." Haruki gestured to the door. "He's not even willing to put a baby in you." He chuckled.

"I don't appreciate being spoken for, Chief Min," Yoongi's deep voice shook through the room.

Haruki turned his head, expression turning sour.

Yoongi walked into the house, shadows forming harsh lines on his face as something dark flashes across his expression. For a moment, he looked like the exact nightmarish image of what the Moon clan thought of the Min family. Even barefooted steps added a heavy echo in the air that it sent chills down her own spine despite the fact she knew this demeanour wasn't for her intimidation. "You can have your supplies at the border."

Haruki deflated as if letting out a sigh of relief. "I should've gone to you first then, Chief. It seems I expected too much of my silly sister." He gave a triumphant smile to her.

"Of course, she made the mistake of thinking you were far too competent." Yoongi intertwined his fingers together, veined and hardened from training.

Haruki's expression turned again, cheeks reddening. "Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, I won't make that mistake." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Perhaps we'll have a charity basket at the border."

Haruki stood to his feet quickly, shaking and trembling like a little boy. "You go too far."

"Do I? Because it seems as if you've come here asking for more than the agreed alliance and proceeding to disrespect my wife," Yoongi said. "The way I see it, giving you a charity basket is more mercy than you deserve currently. I suggest you take it quietly."

Haruki had all the inflated confidence their parents bloated into him from childhood. If he was even the slightest bit stupider, he would speak and in a brief second of that stupidity, he almost did. But then he glared at Kiku. "You'd let him talk to your family like that?"

Anger spread through her chest. Now he wanted to be family, when it benefited him. "If only you were true family then perhaps not."

Haruki grimaced, giving a softer glare to Yoongi before turning on his heel and stomping out of the house.

Kiku let out a deep, shaky breath as her spine began to ache from the tension. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her calm again, taking the scent of wood and warmth in her comfortable home. She heard Yoongi moving until she heard his hum right at her ear.

"Quite the unpleasant family you have," Yoongi mused.

Kiku couldn't help but let out a small, saddened chuckle. "Kaito was the only good one."

Yoongi turned and sat down next to her, shoulders pressed.

The heaviness gave Kiku a wave of comfort like the way his breath hit the back of his neck when they slept.

"If he comes again, I'll ask the guards to delegate him to me or my mother," Yoongi said. "There's no need for you to speak to them if you don't want to."

"You won't be burdened by them?" Kiku asked, turning her head and finding his face incredibly close.

"No one should speak like that to you especially not in our own house." Yoongi waved his hand.

Kiku smiled as her heart burst into little butterflies, creating a lump in her throat. She leaned in and pressed a small kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi turned his head just as Kiku was pulling away, their noses brushed against each other. Dark eyes pierced into her, keeping her still in her position even though her body ached for how close they were. Yoongi kissed her lips, shyly at first to help her adjust to the action.

The tantalizing warmth that passed through Kiku pushed her to lean into the kiss, cupping his cheek. Yoongi's hands held onto her lower back pulling her close until she was pressed flush against his chest.

His lips were hot against hers, keeping his grip on her firm but so soft and gentle. Yoongi only broke the kiss for a moment as Kiku caught a deep breath before pressing her lips again. She gripped onto the fabric of his shirt until Yoongi pulled her enough for her to straddle him completely.

Yoongi held her face in his hand, pausing their kiss again to move his lips down to her neck and jawline. Every ache that she felt from her encounter with Haruki melted away at his touch. He pulled at the pins of her hair, letting it fall down the trail of her back. His fingers traced the length of her spine, making her shiver. Tongue grazed over the soft spot on her neck as her hips began to sway against his own.

Yoongi let out a small groan, lifting his head up. His chest heaved in desperation, gripping onto her hair and keeping their foreheads pressed together.

Kiku reached in again but Yoongi kept her in place.

"Are you sure?" Yoongi asked in a rasped voice that made her tremble.

Kiku nodded. "I'm sure." She reached in and kissed him again, deeper and pleading to ensure he knew this was what she wanted.

But a knock on the door startled them.

Yoongi let out a small, frustrated sigh. "What is it?" he asked.

Kiku got off his lap slowly with a clear of her throat, trying to fix her hair as the door opened to a servant.

"Sorry, sire. Your mother needs your audience for something." The servant kept their head bowed as if already knowing the position he could've caught them in.

Yoongi turned and gave Kiku a soft look.

Kiku gave a reassuring smile, patting his arm before he got to his feet and walked away. Leaving her heart pounding manically.

-

Another week passed since their kiss. Yoongi wasn't distant necessarily but it did feel like nothing changed. Kiku wondered perhaps he didn't enjoy it. He was the Chief and had many choices of his own. Kiku was an alliance marriage. Any affection that they developed may have just been a spur of the moment as they lived under the same roof. Despite all the explanations she's made in her head, it still twinged something in Kiku. With the kindness received from Yoongis family, she imagined that something would be wrong. She traded a kinder family for a husband that didn't quite enjoy her affection. She'd take it though.

This morning, the family sat around the table for breakfast. Yoongi gave her a glance here and there but it was still distant. Kiku tried to smile back but he immediately looked away.

"So Kiku has been immensely calm these past few days," Yun said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Ma says it's often a sign of...something on the way." Her eyes flickered down to gesture to her stomach.

Kiku's cheeks burned, stammering. "No, it's not that." She shook her head. "I had my bleeding." She couldn't quite hide the slight disappointment in her tone. Kiku never thought about children especially with the experiences she had with her own family. But something about the silence from Yoongi made grasp at unnecessary desires of children or anything to melt off the ice between them.

Yun hummed, pouting. "That's a shame, I wanted nieces and nephews." She poked at her food, the light breeze making strands of her dark hair dance.

"Don't pressure them," Nari said, her tone serious. "They need to be relaxed when they do it."

"Girls, quiet." Hwayoung narrowed her gaze, letting out a defeated sigh. "Don't listen to them." She smiled. "These things take time."

Yoongi stayed silent and Kiku herself couldn't find anything to say but give a reassuring smile. Even though she worried Yoongi won't come near her a second time.

-

Kiku played her Koto in the afternoon while Yoongi was out supervising the patrol. Usually it would take him till evening to come back. But today he came in early, stomping and breathing out with frustration. A strange sight from someone who was so calm. Raven black hair glistened from sweat, patches of dust latched onto his skin and his jaw terribly tightened as if it might make break his teeth.

Strangely enough, it was relieving to see some emotion in Yoongi after all the distance. Kiku stood from the Koto. "What's wrong?" She asked gently.

"Your damn brother," he seethed. "His men attacked one of my scouts." Yoongi poured water into a goblet and chugged it.

Kiku's heart dropped. "What?"

"Apparently they'd been disturbing the peace. But they didn't plan for me to come." His scar looked deeper and darker when he was angry. "Mother was weary about them for a while but I didn't think they'd stoop to petty little violence."

Kiku lowered her head, almost in shame. Even though she felt more connected to Yoongi's family, her name and identity was still attached to the people she grew up with. It was embarrassing seeing others witness the pettiness that she endured her whole life. The same pettiness that Kaito hated. "I'm sorry," she said.

Yoongi stilled for a moment, dark brows furrowed as he turned to Kiku. "Why're you apologizing?"

Kiku stammered. "It's my family. They're like this, our parents made you all seem like monsters and Haruki would do anything to make himself feel like father would be proud." She shook her head.

"Well, that's their mistake, not yours." Yoongi spoke under her breath but Kiku clung to every word and kept it close to her chest.

She reached out and touched his arm. "Is there anything I can do?"

Yoongi stared at her deeply and so long that Kiku felt like layers of her soul were being peeled. Then he broke the gaze and tried to walk back to their bedroom. "No, it's okay."

Kiku's stomach clenched as once again, the ice began to form. But this time she wasn't going relent quietly. "Yoongi, you don't have to protect my feelings. If this is too much of a burden to you then I can leave."

Yoongi stopped, looking over his shoulder to her. The expression on his face, harsh. "What?"

Kiku dug her nails into her palms to give herself some form of strength. "I can handle my family, I've lived with them my whole life. But...I don't want you to be married to someone you don't truly want."

Yoongi's throat bobbed up and down. "Is that what you think?"

"I don't know," she spoke honestly. "I just know that you became distant after what happened and I—I'm unsure."

Yoongi fully turned his body around, stepping closer. "If you're unsure, then you talk to me."

"I can't speak my wishes so easily." Kiku's voice lowered as he moved closer until she could catch wafts of the forest from him. "It's not something I'm used to."

Yoongi's expression softened. He rubbed in between his brows. "I'm a little too used to my family just saying what they think." He looked up to her. "I'm sorry. I should've checked on you."

Kiki's stomach felt warm. staying silent for a moment just to ensure what she heard was right. Then she spoke in a small voice. "It's okay."

Yoongi took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together turning her world into a burst of stars. "I will not make you go back to that place again." He muttered. "I want you here."

"You want me here?" She asked again, just to hear him say it so it could echo inside her whenever darker voices grew too loud.

"Right here. With me." Yoongi tightened his hold. "Will you do that?"

Kiku nodded, a burning behind her eyes. "I will, I promise." She smiled, touching his chest to make herself feel grounded again.

"We still need to deal with your stupid brother," Yoongi said. "He's quickly turning into a pest than an ally."

Kiku could spend years imagining Haruki as this invincible monster, similar to when they were children. But this was real now. Haruki wasn't Kaito. He was stupid and petty even when he tried to hurt her. There were a million ways to get rid of people like that. "I might have an idea."

-

As Kiku requested, Yoongi organized a meeting at the border between Onyx and Moon territory. A canopy was erected with a floor table where they all sat together. The edge of dawn painted the mountains and tree in a burnished gold and the scent of morning dew was the only comfort in Kiku's pool of anxiety.

She was prepared for this meeting and the decisions entailed but rarely had she spoken up to Haruki before. When Kiku tried, her mother or father would reprimand and punish her.

Even as Haruki walked to the canopy, she felt a prickle of being scolded in a few minutes. But she had push it down. She wasn't Haruki's sister here, she was a Lady of the Onyx Clan. The Chief's wife.

"This pompous meeting surely isn't about the little scuffle between scouts," Haruki said. "It's a bit of harmless fun."

Yoongi stayed silent.

"You brought your wife here too," Haruki looked Kiku up and down, making sure that he used a moniker disconnected to him.

"In regards to your previous demands, we're suggesting some changes in the alliance." Yoongi kept a calm tone even though Kiku saw the tightened grip of his hands.

Haruki chuckled. "If you don't want her anymore, just kick her out." He waved his hand. "One of your servants can have her."

Yoongi narrowed his gaze but kept his neutral expression. "As you commented on our child before, we had an idea on how to strength the bond between clans."

"And how is that?" he asked.

"Since you require our food supplies which we give to you out of kindness, we have a compromise," Yoongi said. "In exchange for our food, any child born from my wife will take the Chiefs title of the Moon clan."

Haruki's brows furrowed as his chest heaved. His glare turned to Kiku. "You put him up to this, didn't you, you bitch?"

"It was a joint decision," Kiku said, maintaining her calm demeanour. She was used to his insults. She wouldn't let it hurt her again.

"I won't agree to this, it's stupid." Haruki winced.

"Very well," Yoongi said. "Then I suggest you get your defences ready."

"What?"

"Your father must've told you how the Onyx Clan works." Yoongi began to muse and there was something... oddly satisfying about the tone. "My wolves haven't been out for a feed in a while."

"You'd attack your ally?" Haruki asked.

"Attacking my scout and disrespecting the Chiefs wife constitutes that you are breaking every rule in the alliance," Yoongi said and Haruki stayed quiet. "Giving you an alternate compromise is a mercy. I suggest you consider it. My soldiers won't care if you're a spoiled Chief who can't carry a sword properly."

Haruki grimaced, chin quivering in frustration. He looked over at Kiku, as if trying to get ready for another insult but he knew it was too late. Kiku was no longer the target to point insults at. One wrong move and Haruki loses his head along with the Moon Clan. This way they can keep their lives. Haruki was stupid but he was still too scared to die. "Fine. I accept your terms."

Yoongi hummed. "Thank you." He stood up and held onto Kiku's hand, helping her to her feet.

"What would've Kaito said about you turning your back on family?" Haruki asked, cutting into her in a place that ached like a thousand knives.

Kiku paused in place, gripping onto Yoongi's hand like her life depended on it as her heart panged in pain. Haruki knew nothing about what Kaito was like. It took her every strength and hope in her body not to throw scalding tea in his face for even insinuating that Kiku would do something to disappoint Kaito. Because Kaito wasn't like that. Kaito understood and listened. Haruki was a fool. Kiku straightened her posture, turned and looked Haruki straight in the eye. "Kaito wouldn't have caused a food shortage in the clan."

Haruki scoffed, pursing his lips together.

"Kaito did his duty, as I am. From where I'm looking, I'm not the one who made father die from disappointment." Kiku felt like a dam burst inside her as she let the words flow but seeing the Haruki's sour and pouty expression made it all worth it.

-

Kiku was able to breathe easy when they returned to their tent for the night. She walked over to her vanity and her maid immediately began taking pins out of her hair. She watched from the mirror as Yoongi unlatched his sword sheathe of his waist and began to pour himself a drink. The dark furrow of his brows prominent. Kiku raised a hand and smiled at the maid. "A moment, please."

The maid bowed and did as she asked, stepping out of the tent to give them privacy. Kiku took out the rest of the pins so her hair was fully open and relaxed. A dull throb formed on her scalp. She stood and made her way to Yoongi as he leaned forward on the table.

"He can be a lot to tolerate," Kiku said.

Yoongi took in a deep breath to calm himself down. "The way he talks to you, it's like you're complete strangers. Enemies, even."

Kiku swallowed the small lump in her throat. It was always normal to her, seeing the way family treated the one they didn't want with the exception of Kaito. But Yoongi valued family with his life. She could only imagine the kind of shock thrumming through him. "You have a good family. Some don't." She touched his arm. "But sometimes you find a better one."

Yoongi turned his head, his once sharp eyes now softened and sad. "If I've ever made you feel—"

"Not once." Kiku knew it like the breath she took. Yoongi and his family had been nothing but comforting and kind. She reached and pressed her forehead against his. It was almost involuntary but feeling him lean into it was the only answer she needed to keep still.

Yoongi turned his body slowly, letting their chest flush against one another before he leaned and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. His warm hand cupped her cheek softly like she was precious. He pulled away only to press kisses on her cheek and jawline, taking her into an embrace. He buried his face into the crook of her neck where the scent of jasmines wafted in his nose.

Kiku could fall asleep in this embrace. Her body and mind and every bruise in her heart soothed from the loving touch. She traced her fingers across the strands of his hair as if lulling the both of them to dreams. It was difficult to admit it in the past few months with the new changes and confusion. But today for the first time, she could surely say it.

Kiku felt loved.

-

The meeting had left Kiku and Yoongi tired for the evening. They rested their heads, nestled close as they tried to sleep. Tried was an effort Kiku persisted on as the hours went by. It wasn't quite a terrible night of troubling thoughts but an eagerness. She opened her eyes to see Yoongi with his eyes calmly closed, his lips a little puckered.

Kiku took a moment to watch him, reaching out a little to touch his cheek. He stirred slightly at her touch, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing steady and rhythmic. She pulled away with a defeated sigh, not wanting to wake him up. So she turned around and tried to drift off to sleep again.

It was only a few minutes later then she felt Yoongi shift, moving closer until his chest was pressed right against her back. His arm laid over her body, embracing her from behind. Kiku felt a wave of warmth and comfort wash over her as Yoongi tightened his hold.

"Can't sleep?" Yoongi asked.

Kiku hummed. "A little. It's okay, go back to sleep."

"I can be awake," Yoongis voice rasped as his face buried into the crook of her neck again. He began pressing kissing down the length of her shoulder. "Do you want me to be awake?"

Kiku smiled to herself, swaying her hips against him. "A little."

Yoongi chuckled lightly, the vibrations made her quiver in delight. He made Kiku lay on her back, climbing on top of her and sneaking between her legs. "Are you sure?" He whispered.

Kiku nodded. "I'm sure." She smiled against his lips before pressing a kiss on his bottom lip.

Yoongi kissed down the length of her neck, unravelling his night clothes and pushing up Kikus soft dress. He entered her gently, her snug walls hugging his tip before he kept pushing.

Kiku gripped onto his clothing as the sensation made her tremble under him. She swayed her hips with his movements, encouraging him to move faster. The ache was slight but the tingle of pleasure sent her into a slight dizziness. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

Yoongi brushed his fingers across her hairline, full of affection as he moved deeper inside her. He pressed sweet kisses at the corner of her lips.

Kiku smiled feverishly as the pleasure sent heat through her body, radiating like steam and intoxication.

Yoongi made sure he was slow, not just to be careful but to draw out this intimacy for as long as he could. The feeling of embrace brought back every slight desire he had in the past few months to hold or touch her. "Feel good?"

Kiku nodded, letting out a slight whimper as he continued to move at that tantalizing pace. "Good." She traced her thumb across his cheek. Strands of his hair falling over his face, curtaining over hers. Her core became slick with arousal, creating light squelch sounds as he thrusted into her with a new desperation.

His release clouded him, flooding him with an unbearable warmth until he grind himself into her. He muffled his moan against her neck.

Kiku felt his lower belly press on her sensitive spot, making her clench around him, pushing him further into his climax.

Yoongi lifted himself up, foreheads layered with sweat as they pressed against each other.

Kiku took his lips into a kiss, surging him to thrust into a steady pattern that made her lose breath. She gripped onto the side of his neck as moans broke through any form of whisper.

Yoongi quickened his pace following the pattern of her moans and the rolling of his own release. Then the sweet burst into a ricochet of pleasure and heat.

Kiku smiled, breathless as she relished in the warmth filling her. As Yoongi kept moving, he snuck his head in between her legs, targeting her sensitive spot and pushing her to the edge. Kiku's brows furrowed, aching to reach her own climax as she was full of him. Her breathing turned to quickened whimpers as she squirmed under his touch. Her back arched, head thrown back giving Yoongi the chance to kiss her neck and jawline.

Her climax bloomed, the heat of it shaking her limbs and forcing her legs to shut around him. Yoongi kissed her forehead, still rubbing on that spot until she twitched against it.

Kiku whimpered, pushing his hand away. A small laugh left his lips fuelling her with more delight. It was the most wonderful feeling she had to be embraced like this so warmly and the bliss of pleasure melting her body until she was meshed with the bed itself.

"You feel sleepier now?" Yoongi watched her with his own half-lidded, blissed eyes.

Kiku smiled as her breathing turned slow and calm. "Mhm." She traced her fingers down his cheek. "I think I've officially become your wife."

"Oh?" Yoongi's brow raised. "You weren't before?"

Kiku chuckled, slapping his chest playfully. "I mean we don't have anything to hide anymore."

Yoongi caged her in with his arms, making her feel safe and secure. "No, we don't."

Kiku blinked slowly, her finger moved gently to his scar. "Like this?"

Yoongi's expression softened into a mix of ruminating vulnerability and an old sadness that had been repeatedly reminisced. He lay down next to her, shoulders pressed flush. "My father and I go on small trips every now and then. He used to do it with every child, just to. . .talk, connect with nature and spend time." He waved his hand. "It was strange for Chiefs to do it but he said it was because he never got to speak to his own father. So, he wanted to make sure we weren't. . .without one." He let out a long breath.

"He sounds like a good father," Kiku said.

"He was." Yoongi's dark eyes melted and glossed from emotion. "One day though, bandits were prowling in the place my father and I camped. They attacked us. I got this from one of the bandits." He pointed to the scar. "Before my father told me to run while he fended them off. I called my mother and some guards to help but we were too late."

Kiku shifted and rubbed his chest. "Is that why you train so much?"

Yoongi nodded. "I want to make sure Yeong and the girls know how to defend themselves or others should the need arise." He took a deep breath, playing with Kiku's hair. "But I had a good family. We took care of each other, just like we'll take care of you."

Kiku smiled, resting her chin on his chest. "I'll take care of you all too. I still owe you a massage."

"You gave me a pretty good one a minute ago." Yoongi smirked.

Kiku chuckled. "A proper massage."

-

Kiku and Yoongi returned to the main houses early in the morning as the soft gold of dawn painted the forest. Hwayoung had lunch prepared with the rest of the family to welcome them home. Fresh steamed fish with tofu, rice porridge and some fresh fruits newly picked from the farms. Kiku ate happily, her appetite had grown in the months she was with this family but it made her all the more energetic and vibrant along with her excitement from the past night's events.

Something the family noticed more than Kiku realised.

Yun, in particular, stared the two of them a little too closely with a smirk. "So how was the trip, brother?" She asked in a sing-song voice.

Yoongi's eyes flickered up as he paused mid-bite. "As most political talks go with a spoiled brat of a Chief. He gave into the deal quickly," he spoke in a slightly formal tone.

Kiku quietly sipped on the last drops of her tea before he gently poured her another cup. She gave him a shy smile.

"I haven't heard much about the prospects of the Chiefs of the Moon clan but the younger son is usually unprepared," Hwayoung said thankfully to distract from what Yun actually wanted to ask.

Yeong stammered just as he took a bite of his food, looking at Hwayoung with a pout. "What'd I do?"

Hwayoung raised her hand. "I mean, generally. Not you."

Yoongi let out a small chuckle under his breath. "She means you."

Yeong sighed, pointing at him with his chopsticks. "I've beaten you in sword training before, I'll do it again."

"Did you do anything else in the trip?" Yun asked, with a wide grin, leaning forward in excitement. "You were both alone for the night. And Kiku's been. . .glowing."

Kiku's cheeks burned, clearing her throat. "I—I don't—"

"You need to stop obsessing over your brother's marriage, sweetheart, it's getting strange." Hwayoung patted the back of Yun's hand.

"It's only because you don't let me get married." Yun leaned back on her chair, folding her arms over her chest.

"Mother's protecting the men of the clan," Nari said, raising a brow.

Yun slapped Nari's arm as Yeong snorted.

"See how they bully me?" Yun asked Kiku.

Kiku chuckled, biting down her bottom lip and glancing at Yoongi. Often when she had terrible encounters with Haruki, she would get scolded by her family and live with the suffocating feeling of frustration in her chest.

Today was the first time, Kiku could cling to the happy moments and forget about Haruki or any of this harsh words. Her family threw her to the Onyx clan like a bait at the end of a fishing line but in their hatred for her, Kiku found love for her own. 

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