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deepdarkdelights · 7 months

Text

As You Wish | Yoongi x Reader

Pairing: Werewolf Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 21k

Warnings: 18+, Spice but no Smut, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Kissing, Grieving, Passive Suicidality, MC experiences major depression, Non-Consensual Touching, Breaking and Entering, Stalking, Depictions of Gore, Blood, Technically Cannibalism? Loss of Spouse, Loss of Child, Forced Found Family, Hunting, Mass Death, Attempted Burning and the stake, MC is hit by a man (not Yoongi)

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: You couldn’t even scream when the door was ripped from its hinges, the beast breaking through it like it was wet parchment. You were petrified in place, hyperventilating and trembling at the sight of it.

It was a giant wolf. It was covered from head to toe in midnight black fur although there were spots that seemed thinner than others that were littered in scars - slashes and bite wounds from what you could only imagine were others of its kind. It was larger than a horse with a head so huge it could bite your own clean off in one impressive snap. And then there were the eyes. They were glowing an ice cold silver in the dark with a glare that felt sharp enough to slice through you while a gnarled scar marred the fur and skin of its right eye.

A/N: I’m exhausted and grad school sucks but I really wanted to get this out for your guys. I hope you enjoy it, I spent way more time on it than I wanted to. I really thought it was only going to be 8k yet here we are…21k. Anyway, I miss all of you - sorry this is so long lol, this is SUPER UNEDITED. As usual, I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and comments, I love you and hope you enjoy

The sweet scent of flowers greeted your nose as you cracked open the window for the first time in months.

Despite the warmth of sunshine and the bright green strokes of grass outside, it very well could have still been winter. It felt as if no time had passed since that fateful day. In your heart, winter still raged on. There were gnarled, ice-coated branches there and a torrent of never-ending snow. It had frozen over since then.

You carried this sense of numbness you had never thought you would be capable of, it was as if your very soul had been corroded by frostbite. Any love or passion or warmth had been snuffed out like a match in the dark.

That was the thing about grief, it could change a person into something that was beyond recognition. And your grief was immeasurable.

When you got married, you never imagined your husband would die within the first year.

It truly had been a cruel winter that year. The two of you were making do with what food you had. He had always been so smart, planning out what you could have each day so that it would last until spring. The only problem was the fire wood. No one could have anticipated how cold it was going to be and if you hadn’t burned as much kindling as you did you were certain you would have frozen to death.

You could still remember that gentle look he had given you before he left. The soft touch of his fingers to your cheek, the gentle kiss he left you with. He still had every ounce of charm he had had as a boy. He had always been kind and sweet to you. He was the gentlest man you had ever known. That was why his death hurt even more.

You had been worried the minute he left, but as minutes bled into hours and the winter sun quickly disappeared behind the mountains you were frightened to the bone. He had only an ax and a knife with him. He brought no food and no more clothing than what was on his back. He was planning on making a short trip and if he didn’t come back right away the chances of him surviving the night were slim to none.

His body was found the next day.

Honestly, you didn’t remember that day all too well. Everything was a blur, you could faintly remember hearing the voices of a few men from the village, the feeling of your raw throat after screaming senselessly, and the surplus of food and supplies that were sent your way with small slips of paper that read: “Our condolences.”

They wouldn’t let you see his body and that was something you would never forgive them for. You didn’t care how bad it was, you wanted to see him with your own eyes and you were never afforded that closure. But you had heard enough from hushed whispers outside.

“Pieces,” they had said.

He had been mauled to pieces. They couldn’t even find all of him and what was left of him had huge teeth marks raked through flesh. It was an animal attack. Just like you and your husband, they were hungry.

And now you were all alone. You were a pariah, one that people pitied, but a pariah nonetheless. You would never be able to marry again, not that you wanted to, but no one would want a widow as their wife. That was the way of things, you were meant to live out the rest of your days in solitude. Nothing more than a sad story mother’s would tell their children as you passed through the markets in silence. Your story would become a warning for children not to wander off into the woods. Your tragedy would become a lesson.

The only lesson that you had learned was that love meant pain. You had given yourself to someone entirely, and when they had parted from you, you were left with nothing. That was the danger of love, losing yourself.

After months of wishing you had followed him out of this world, you were hit with the sudden clarity that you were being selfish. He had left to try and save the both of you, but here you were wasting the life he had given you. He had sacrificed himself in order for you to keep living for the both of you.

Choosing to live was so much harder than choosing to die.

You shoved those horrendous thoughts to the back of your mind as you traveled through your small cottage, prying open every stiff window that you passed by. Living meant starting with the little things, like getting your home in order. It didn’t feel the same without him, but at least now that it was warmer out you wouldn’t have to stay inside and constantly be reminded of his absence.

You stripped your bed, gathered up the used linens, and scooped up piles of worn clothes from the floor before depositing them in the basket. You were distracting yourself, that much you were certain of. But any distraction was welcome, you couldn’t bear the silence filled thoughts of him any longer.

You heaved the basket up onto your hip and made for the door, pausing as you were faced with the blooming greenery beyond the threshold. The breeze was cool, the air was fresh. The world was starting over once again, why was it so hard for you?

You shook the troubling thought from your head, squared your shoulders, and took a deep breath. You could at least try. And so, you stepped outside for the first time in months and faced the world. It was almost like nothing changed. The birds still chirped, the insects sang, and the rush of the river called from a distance.

That was the other thing about grief. While it felt like your world ended, in reality, it still rushed onward.

The soft grass sunk beneath your feet and sprung back to life as you walked, your body tense as you approached the forest. You weren’t going in too far, it was just the edge where the trees were still spread out and not too thick. You just needed to get to the river. But you couldn’t deny the sense of paranoia that was set in your bones. This was where he died, where he was mauled and consumed by whatever inhabited the forest. It would make sense that whatever animal that had ended his life was still prowling in the shadows, waiting for its next meal.

“Stop it,” You snapped at yourself, your voice hoarse from lack of use and louder in the soft sounds of nature.

You weren’t going far, you were going to be safe. There was no reason to be so anxious when you wouldn’t be putting yourself in danger. You weren’t walking into the lion's den, you were doing laundry.

Despite your scolding, you still snapped your head in every direction when you finally reached the river. You were unsettled by every little noise, hyper aware of everything that was going on around you. For a task that was so mundane, you felt so on edge.

The rush of icy water against your hands was enough to help you focus on the task at hand. The river had finally unfrozen. While your husband and yourself frequently bathed in the river during the warmer months, you had no plans on doing that anytime soon lest you be chilled to the bone and catch your death. Maybe when you were younger you would have risked it all for a moment of fun. But you were older now, matured by time and tragedy. It was harder to have fun now.

You threw the shirt you were washing on a rock beside you, the force of the toss resulting in a loud, wet slap. Your body bent forward under an oppressive imaginary weight as your icy fingers braced your face, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips causing your body to sink even further.

Living for two people was going to be even harder than you thought. Even these simple, menial tasks felt exhausting. It had been a miracle you had been able to drag yourself out of bed, that you had made it outside, that you had even journeyed to the river. But those things should be easy, so why did they feel so hard?

You felt weak.

Useless.

Helpless.

You couldn’t help but think had the roles been reversed, he would have been stronger than you. He would have mourned but he would have been able to survive. He would have been able to find another wife, he would have had the children he always wanted, and he could have been happy. It was hard to not feel like it should have been you, like you were just wasting the life he had given you. It was hard to not crumble beneath the crashing waves of grief that eroded your resolve.

It was too hard.

A high pitched whimper broke you out of your spiraling thoughts, your hands dropping to your lap and your head snapping to attention. You held your breath and pursed your lips, listening closely to try and hear the sound again.

And there it was again. Although this time it was much louder and much longer. It sounded like something was in pain. And your curiosity got the better of you.

You shifted your basket to the side and stood, gathering your skirts in one hand as you carefully lept from stone to stone as you crossed the river. Your heart raced as you slipped once then twice, the stones slick from the rushing water, but the cries were becoming louder and closer and you felt as if you had no other choice but to find out what they were coming from.

Once you crossed the river, you moved slowly through the grass so as to not startle whatever it was that was frightened. Every now and then you would pause and hold your breath, listening intently for the creature's cries before following them once more. You could just barely make out the shape of the animal, its body concealed by a thick underbrush of branches, leaves, and thorns.

You dropped down to your knees with abandon and blindly reached into the shrubbery. The cries were much louder now as the creature was startled by your invading hands. Thorns raked through your flesh as you grabbed hold of the small furry body and pulled, trying your hardest to gently remove the little animal. A loud cry made you stop, halting all of your progress. It looked like it was tangled up in something.

You quickly moved on to your second plan and softly placed the animal back down before grabbing thorn laced branches and snapping them with your bare hands. You hissed in pain as blood beaded up from the small cuts that now decorated your palms. You couldn’t fathom where this sudden rush of determination came from or why you felt like you so desperately needed to do this. That same rush that came over you to find the animal was present and even stronger with the desire to free it. You felt it on some deeper level, that you just couldn’t leave it behind.

There was a generous pile of branches beside you now and you could very clearly see what you were dealing with. It looked like a puppy. It was very small with soft chocolate brown fur, a short nose, and the cutest pointed ears. Its big brown eyes were welled up with tears, its tail tucked between its legs, and its entire body shook in fright.

Your horror stricken gasp was muffled as you involuntarily covered your mouth in surprise. The poor pup was tangled up in a snare. The wire was cinched tightly around its hind leg, chest, and foreleg, cutting in so tightly that blood was visible on the metal. The poor thing had run right into the trap and was stuck. You could only hope that it wasn’t intended for the puppy, that it had run into some hunter’s trap purely by accident.

Your already lacerated hands went straight back to work trying as you attempted to untangle the snare as gently as you could. You hissed as it sliced your palms but paused only a moment to wipe the blood off on your pinafore before continuing your work. By the time you had finally managed to undo the trap, beads of sweat clung to your neck and the sun had moved a decent way across the sky.

“There you go,” You murmured, “you’re free.”

The puppy, although now free, didn’t move. Its deep brown eyes stared up at you as it continued to whine, its entire body still shaking with unadulterated fright.

“Can you walk?” You asked, sitting back on your calves to get a better look at the animal.

You were shocked when it responded, in a way. The puppy attempted to stand and then walk, but it only made it two steps with a clear limp before it collapsed flat on its belly with a yipe.

“Of course you can’t, I’m sorry,” You cooed as you reached out. Your hand paused in midair, hesitating before trying to touch the puppy. It was probably a wild dog, so it was not a good idea to go touching an animal that very well could bite you, no matter how cute it was.

The puppy, as if it had read your mind, answered for you by leaning forward and sniffing your fingers with a cold, wet nose, before lapping at them with its little tongue. It was like any other puppy then, it wasn’t aggressive yet.

You chewed your lip in thought as you watched the pup. It wasn’t a good idea to take in stray animals, but it was injured and leaving it in the forest would be like ringing a dinner bell for all the predators in the area. All of the blood the pup and yourself had shed was certainly not helping. And then there was the crippling loneliness of your cottage. A dog would be good for that. It would be something to share the space with, something to break up the cacophonous silence. And, when it grows older, it would be good for protection as well. The benefits outweigh the negatives you selfishly refused to think of.

With the pup’s approval, you lifted it up and cradled it into your side much like a mother would her child. You giggled in delight from the feeling of a wet nose burrowing its way into your shoulder and neck, sniffing the cloth of your dress and your skin like it was trying to become accustomed to you.

You crossed the river even slower now on your way back, very aware of the precious animal you were protecting. When you stopped at the river bank, you gathered your abandoned laundry and placed the puppy in the basket. You didn’t really care about the dirt, grass, and blood that would inevitably stain the fabrics - afterall, they still needed to be cleaned and you had much more pressing issues to attend to.

You walked back with a sudden urgency in your steps, a small trill of excitement buzzing in your being. After months of isolation and misery, something so small had brought you joy, something that had been unimaginable a few hours before.

The pup was much calmer now, softly panting instead of crying as it laid in your basket of sheets, eyeing the world that passed by as you brought the two of you back to your cottage. When you made it inside, you shut the bottom half of the door, leaving the top half open to allow fresh air in without the risk of the pup wandering out and falling down the stone steps. When you placed the basket on the ground it nosed at the sheets for a moment before limping out of the basket.

“No, no, no, stay right there,” You chided, gently scooting it back into the sheets, “you’ll hurt yourself worse if you do that.”

You stayed a moment, locking eyes with the pup to ensure that it would stay and understand. When you were certain that it was calmed you finally turned your back and headed into the kitchen. You rummaged through the cabinets, searching for the healing salves and creams you knew had been there months before along with the strips of makeshift bandages.

Within mere moments of turning your back on the puppy you were alerted once more by its cries. It had tried following you again but was now laying in a heap on the floor, tangled up in the sheet and crying from the pressure it applied on its wounds.

You dropped the bandages and rushed to the pup, cooing as you picked it up and cradled it against your chest. The little thing was an escape artist, that was certain.

You let out a deep sigh as an uncomfortable thought brewed in your mind. It was the only option that you could think of, even though it was terribly unpleasant. Before you could dwell too much you headed towards the back of the cottage where a single door was fixed into the frame. It stuck at your first pull but relented on the second, the hinges creaking in defeat as you entered the room.

Any furniture that was in the room was coated with a thin layer of dust having gone undisturbed for months. That old wound in your heart was bleeding around the edges now, the pain of avoided thoughts bubbling back up to the surface.

There was a crib against the far wall of the bedroom.

You swiftly moved to the back of the room and gently placed the pup inside the crib. The sides were high enough that the injured dog would be unable to climb over and you were confident that this was the safest place for the poor thing.

But even that knowledge couldn’t stop tears from pricking at the corner of your eyes as your hands subconsciously cradled your belly. Your pregnancy had been short lived. Losing your husband had been the catalyst to losing your child, but you couldn’t help but blame yourself. Even though the midwife had promised you it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t see how that could be true. If you had been stronger, if you had taken better care of yourself, you would have been able to save that last piece of him.

If you hadn’t been pregnant, maybe things would have been different. Your husband would have stayed and you would have figured out how to make it through the rest of the winter. But you had been pregnant, he had left to find more resources because of that, and even though he sacrificed his life for you and your unborn child you hadn’t been able to save them.

You couldn’t see how any of this wasn’t your fault when you were at the center of it all.

The feeling of cool tears rolling down your cheeks shocked you back to reality. You weakly wiped the tears away, sniffed, and shook your head. You needed to clean yourself and the pup up, you had priorities.

You rushed around the cottage, busying yourself with what needed to be done. You ran to the water pump and wet some rags, retrieved the salves and bandages, and grabbed a bowl of poultry meat for the dog. This was a welcome distraction.

You were greeted by excited, squeaky barks when you returned to the abandoned nursery. The pup eagerly paced back and forth, its little tail wagging so hard its entire backside wiggled. You let out a gentle giggle before releasing it from the crib and sitting the two of you on the floor, pulling the pup into your lap and distracting it with a strip of meat while you assessed its injuries once more.

You blinked once and then twice in confusion. You could have sworn the wounds had been much worse not more than half an hour ago. The slashes were still bloody and in need of tending to, but they were not the deep, gnarled gashes that had once needed stitching. You were either still out of your mind or this animal had the fastest healing time you had ever seen.

It was much easier to believe that your mind was failing you. And so, you got to cleaning and wrapping the wounds. The pup was surprisingly well behaved, only whimpering every now and then as you touched a tender spot but it didn’t jerk away and did its best to stay still as it ate. The more time you spent with it, the more you realized it was much smarter and more aware than you had once thought. Everything about the little creature seemed eerily human when you thought about it too much. It was better to not think about it too hard.

Trapped in your own mind, you hadn’t realized that you had finished your work. Not until you felt the gentle lap of a little tongue against the wounds that decorated your palms, jolting you back into the real world.

You pulled your hands away with a pained hiss before reprimanding the puppy, “No, no, no, I don’t know where that mouth of yours has been. The last thing we need is an infection.”

The puppy whined in earnest and nosed at your palm once more before you pulled your hands away again and scooped the little thing back up into your arms. This way, it wouldn’t be able to mess with the cuts.

After you tended to your palms, applying salve and wrapping them securely, you couldn’t help but notice the odd tingling you felt emanating from them. It was warm and fuzzy and completely unexplainable - your salves had never caused that sensation before.

As time passed and the sun crossed over the sky before dipping beneath the horizon, the feeling became stronger until it was a pulse-like thrum causing your hands to tremble before steadily declining until it was nothing more than a memory. And an odd one at that.

It was when you began to turn in for the night, that everything fell apart.

You didn’t notice that the crickets had fallen silent nor that the wildlife of the forest had completely disappeared. You hadn’t noticed the hollow ringing that came from the wind slipping between the trees. It was the calm before the storm, and you had no idea what was coming.

The candlelight was dim, casting soft ochre colored shadows over the wood and stone of the cottage. The puppy slept soundly in your arms. Everything was calm.

That was of course until a howl fractured the peace. It was so loud you could have sworn you felt the floorboards shake as a rush of fright went down your spine. The soft lull of sleep was suddenly long forgotten.

The pup in your arms stirred at the noise, its ears perking up and its head frozen in place as it recognized the sound. It was on high alert. It knew what was out there.

You shakily stood and approached the door, the top portion of it still unlatched and swung outward. Outside of the lamp affixed to the stone above the door, the forest was pitch black. You could barely make out the twisted shape of the trees and the brooke that had once been in sight was obscured. But, what was even stranger, was that you were certain that the shadows were moving.

You tilted your head to the side, squinting your eyes as you tried to make out what exactly you were looking at. And then, it was close enough that the light bounced off of it and you were met with the horrifying sight of a set of bright silver eyes staring back at you from the dark.

You were frozen in an instant. But once you realized those eyes were steadily coming closer with a hulking form attached, you acted on instinct, slamming the door shut and latching it closed. You could only hope that the door would hold against whatever that thing was.

Your chest rose and fell with heavy pants as you became more and more unsettled. Why was it so quiet? Why couldn’t you hear something so big moving? Where was it? What direction was it coming from? Your back met the wall and your weak knees had you sliding down to the ground.

Your entire body was shaking in pure terror. There was something out there, something massive and monstrous. You held the pup in your arms tighter, bringing it to your chest for comfort as well as protection.

You yelped as a loud bang popped the eerie silence. Whatever it was, it was slamming its body alongside the cottage. But it wasn’t doing it mindlessly, like it thought it could break through the walls. It was purposeful, it was an attempt to frighten you and determine where you were. It was smart.

You curled into yourself as it came closer. You could hear heavy, sharp pants in between the vicious snarls that it was making. It sounded wild, primal, and predatory. It was hunting.

The pup in your arms began whining and wriggling around as it tried to escape your grasp and all it was doing for you was frightening you even more. All it was doing was making more noise, drawing more attention to itself. And you knew it had, the creature outside had gone silent. It was listening.

And then chaos unraveled in seconds.

You couldn’t even scream when the door was ripped from its hinges, the beast breaking through it like it was wet parchment. You were petrified in place, hyperventilating and trembling at the sight of it.

Your body slowly began to slump to the ground, falling weak before the wolf. You looked like the perfect prey, like a rabbit that was so frightened its own heart had stopped. It seemed that the wolf thought similarly. It approached you slowly like it was still on the prowl as angry snarls left its gaping maw. You could feel your blood run cold as you caught sight of its enormous teeth, each one long enough that they could be made into daggers. Whatever this creature was, it was no mere wolf, it was something else entirely.

Your hold on the pup was weakened as your chest and forehead met the ground, bending beneath the invisible weight of the wolf’s presence. From beneath the cover of your hair you could make out its large paws and hooked nails mere inches away from you. It was so close now that you could feel puffs of its hot breath disturb your hair and ghost over your neck. You were breaths away from death.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to flee or embrace it as you had once desired.

A soft whimper involuntarily escaped you as you waited, feeling the tip of its nose brush over your head as its snarls grew louder. A sudden loud yapping broke the tension.

The pup was frantically barking at the wolf and lunging at it in a playful manner all the while standing in front of you like it was trying to protect you. The sight would have been comical had you not been on the brink of passing out. This tiny puppy was fiercely defending you against this monster.

And, to your surprise, it was working.

Once you gained the courage to raise your head you were met with the sight of the wolf’s intense gaze trained on the puppy. More specifically, its gaze was trained on the bandages covering its wounds. The wolf looked back at you, its hauntingly silver eyes making you flinch. It continued to stare at you for a long moment like it was contemplating something, that of which you were unaware of. But then its gaze hardened and its predatory stance relaxed. It had made its decision.

Without another snarl or howl it nipped the pup by its scruff and began to carry it out of the cottage. It stopped for a moment once it had successfully squeezed out of the broken door frame and looked back at you, this too was a look that you were unable to decipher. It gave you a slow blink and then turned, carrying the pup back to the forest and disappearing into the darkness.

It was in that moment that you finally realized that it had not been a dog you had rescued, but that wolf’s pup.

And with that realization you completely collapsed to the floor and were dragged into a dark, dreamless, restless sleep.

~~~~~~~

Yoongi had come to realize that there wasn’t much that you could do to discipline a two year old, especially a two year old that was a shifter.

His daughter, Binna, had little control over her form and had a knack for slipping away and getting into trouble. That was something he could blame on his other pack members, specifically the youngest three.

He huffed out a sigh as he carefully extracted twigs and leaves from her messy hair, flinging them back into the underbrush. She was the very definition of a wild child. And while it wasn’t uncommon for pups her age to be curious and adventurous, it was uncommon that she so readily welcomed and followed humans.

Humans were dangerous, that was something he had tried his best to get her to understand but she simply couldn’t. She was too young to understand how they could hunt her and hurt her, far too young to realize what that meant, and far too young to understand that it was a human that had taken her mother away from them.

Then again, she hadn’t known her mother all too well. That was evidenced by her clinging to any female shifter she had found and babbling out “mama” to the wrong mothers. She knew her mother was missing, but she couldn’t match the face to the name. He couldn’t really blame her all that much. Her mother had been amongst the best hunters and was oftentimes absent as she hunted for the pack’s survival. Yoongi was a defender, he was there to ensure the safety of everyone that resided within their territory. He was at the front lines. And because of that, his wife was often gone and he was almost always home. To his daughter, her mother was a faceless being.

“Let me see,” He demanded firmly, trying to unwind the bandages that were already slipping from her skin.

She nipped at his fingers playfully, her serrated canines gleaming as she giggled. Yoongi tried his best to suppress his smile, he was supposed to be upset with her. He sighed once more and grabbed the edge of the bandage and began to unwind it.

“No,” She cried in a drawn out whine, “Mama gave me! Mama gave me!”

Yoongi froze, startled as he registered her fractured speech. She thought that human in the cottage was her mother.

He could see why she would think that, you had taken care of her after all. From what he had seen from the wounds he knew they came from a hunter's trap, snares made from silver that were so small they had clearly been designed for pups as no adult shifter would ever be able to be caught in that small a snare. It was clear that you had rescued his daughter and taken care of her in his absence.

And for some reason, Yoongi could only press his lips together in a firm line and failed to correct his daughter. At the end of the day, she wasn’t necessarily wrong.

Yoongi knew you.

He had known you for a while now. He had watched you the day you and your husband had moved in. The two of you had chosen a location that was incredibly close to their territory and so he scouted you out for days to ensure that you wouldn’t stumble too far from your home, to ensure that you weren’t a threat.

He had thought you two were safe, and that was his biggest mistake.

Yoongi would not say that he was enamored with you, but he was definitely interested in you. He had gone his entire life knowing to never trust a human, but as he observed he couldn’t help but be enthralled by your little human quirks.

You were so blissfully unaware of his presence as he silently stalked you. Your husband, like his wife, was often gone during the day and you were left to amuse yourself. For someone of your age, you had this odd youthful aura about you. He would watch as you would jump into the brooke, spinning around and splashing with abandon not unlike his child would.

That version of you that he knew though, that was long gone. Loss has aged you, hardened you. Even though you were completely ensnared by fright he could see the hollowness in your eyes when he had ripped your door from its hinges.

The both of you had been irreparably changed by loss.

And then there was the other problem. He was indebted to you and you were now in his care. While he refused to acknowledge any attachment he felt for you, he couldn’t deny the attraction. It was incredibly wrong considering his own disdain for humans, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something else there, this odd discomfort in his chest that demanded to be felt, a sour feeling in his stomach at the thought of your frightened face.

This was not good.

Contrary to popular belief, wolves do not mate for life. And as a shifter that was even more true. While many chose to bond to one another, it was not horribly uncommon to find a new mate if one were to leave or die. And, very rarely, there were intense bonds that made it so that you did mate for life. In the case of his wife, it was not that type of bond. Of course he was hurt, of course he missed her, but it was not the debilitating grief that you experienced. It was natural for his kind, evolutionary even.

The attachment, this bond he felt for you paired with his daughter’s stubborn belief that you could be her mother made him make a decision far faster than he should have.

You lost a husband, he lost a wife. An even trade. Why could you not fill those roles for each other?

~~~~~~~

The following days were ones where you lived in a state of fright and confusion.

When you awoke the next morning you were greeted by the feeling of the floor against your cheek and a stiff ache in your joints. Apparently, you had spent the night collapsed on the floor.

When you finally mustered up the strength to stand there were several things that were brought to your attention. Firstly, that there was now a gaping hole in the wall from where your door had once stood. Secondly, the events that occurred the night before had not been a grief conjured hallucination. And thirdly, the pain in your hands had completely disappeared.

Upon unwinding the bandages you were met with completely closed wounds and thin scars that looked years old. Your suspicions had been proven correct, that wolf and its pup were certainly not just animals not with the way a few stray licks had healed your palms. Your fingers trembled in fright at the realization before you grabbed another roll of bandages and wrapped them tightly in a panic.

Out of sight, out of mind.

You followed the same thought as you gathered up sheets, a cord, and pins with the intention to cover up the missing door to your cottage.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, that was not possible for you. Before you could even attempt to hang the sheets you were frozen in place a foot away from what was once the threshold. On the cobblestone porch was a carcass. You stared at it, dumb in shock as you tried to understand what you were looking at. It wasn’t a complete animal, it had been skinned and cleaned and left on your porch laying out on a thick piece of brown paper packaging. At first, you considered the possibility that it was another mourning gift from one of your neighbors in town but that was very quickly debunked. For one, they typically cooked the meat or met you at the door. And secondly, there were clear claw marks in the bone and large tooth impressions left behind. You had a sick feeling that you knew where this came from. But it didn’t make any sense, no wolf could clean a carcass like this - this was work done by human hands.

Despite your conclusion, when you raised your head you were once more greeted by the sight of the wolf. He was much closer than he had been the first time you saw him the night before. He laid right by the end of the treeline - half of his body submerged in shade and the other half bathing in the golden glow of the early morning light. Those silver eyes were watching you intently, waiting to see what you would do next.

That only confirmed your suspicions, he had brought it for you. It was a peace offering of sorts, a truce. In spite of that knowledge your hands still trembled when you grabbed a corner of the parchment and dragged the carcass past the threshold. The wolf’s alert and tense body almost immediately relaxed. It was like it was relieved.

It stared after you for a moment longer, gave you a slow blink, and then rose and melted back into the forest - vanishing as if it hadn’t even been there in the first place.

And so you hung your sheet, peeled the flesh from the bone of the carcass, and disposed of the remains.

Out of sight, out of mind.

~~~~~~~

When you woke the next day, the makeshift curtain was pulled to the side and wrapped around a bent hinge that was still mounted to the wall. Another thing you were certain wolves were incapable of.

And there, on the stoop, laid a pile of wild berries and fruit on a small, clean cloth. And, not far away, the wolf was there once more. Although this time it was much closer, so close in fact that you could visibly make out the twisted scar around its eye. It was laying down, much like a dog would, with its large head raised in alert. Those silver eyes flicked slowly from the present and back to you three times, a clear signal that it was waiting for you to take them. It only relaxed when you brought them inside just like the day before.

This pattern between the two of you persisted for several days to follow. And, no matter how you tried to forget what had happened that night, this creature was making it virtually impossible. It was ironic how you had once longed for company and were willing to settle for it from a dog but now that you had someone, well something, watching over you you were incredibly unnerved by the ordeal. But you couldn’t exactly shoo the hulking creature away.

And so each day passed and more presents followed. One day it was bunches of wildflowers, another it was game of varying sizes, and another was a thick pelt that had been handcrafted into a blanket for the cold spring nights. You didn’t know how to exactly decline a gift from a mythical creature. Wouldn’t there be horrible repercussions for that?

The urgency to put a stop to this odd arrangement became even more apparent when a gold pendant was left at your door and the wolf had crept so close that it was less than fifteen feet away. It was beginning to make your home its territory and now it was somehow stealing items you had only dreamed of affording when you were young. It was all too much.

You wound the chain of the pendant around your fingers as you hesitantly crept down the stone steps. The creature perked up in interest, elevating its head again as you slowly approached it, your body shaking in fright in spite of your attempts to school yourself into a false confidence.

“I-” You paused to clear your throat, “I can’t accept this. You’ve done more than enough for me, you’re forgiven.”

It only cocked its head to the side in response. You were just a crazy woman talking to an animal, weren’t you?

“Here, take it,” You tried again, reaching out your palm to it as the chain caught the sun and glistened in the morning light.

It was looking at you like you were dumb.

“Fine,” You sighed, “I’ll just leave it here then and you can take it back to wherever you got it from.”

You lightly tossed it onto the grass and turned your back on the creature before briskly walking back to your cottage. And, despite the haste in which you walked, you were no match for the massive wolf.

A startled shriek left your lips as you felt a large, warm body bump against your side and thick fur rub up against your skin. Another shriek was forced past your lips when its tail wacked you on the backside like it had a mind of its own.

Gold glinted in its teeth before the pendant was unceremoniously dropped on your stone steps, the placement much more haphazard than it had been that morning.

If this had happened a few days before, you were certain you would have been more frightened, but now your patience was far too thin and you were in desperate need for your privacy and a sense of normalcy.

“If you’re going to keep bringing me things, at least let them be useful! Like a door, for instance. You know, that thing you ripped off of my home!”

The wolf huffed in what almost sounded like an amused chuckle before rising and stalking towards you, crowding you up against the side of the cottage. Your heart pounded as you realized you had made a grave error, you were not the one in charge here.

You clenched your eyes shut as you felt a warm puff of air over your face and a wet nose prod your cheek. You shook as you remembered the creature's giant fangs and huge body. You were certain now that it was going to eat you now that you had denied it, these were the repercussions that you feared.

What you hadn’t anticipated though, was the feeling of it pressing its head on top of yours and whining like an overgrown puppy. It was acting like you had hurt its feelings. You hesitantly cracked an eye open only to see this huge, scarred, wolf nuzzling your head and then your hands like it was begging for affection.

A surprised laugh came straight from your chest as you shakily began to pet the wolf. The wolf that had previously been ready to kill you after you had accidentally kidnapped its child.

“Alright, alright, cut it out!” You squealed, laughing hysterically as it began to lick you. You quickly froze when you realized that that was the first time you had laughed in months. It was the first time you had laughed since your husband had died.

You gently pushed against the wolf’s large head as you side stepped around it, a frown now tugging down the corners of your mouth. It felt so wrong to be happy.

Your companion noticed your swift shift in behavior. It ducked its head down and nosed at your back not all that gently as you stumbled forward.

“Don’t you have a child you need to get back to?” You hissed, a sudden wave of irritation rushing over you.

This wasn’t all that uncommon for you. The rapid changes in your emotions. It was easy to feel joy wither away to apathy, to frustration, to anger. Oftentimes you felt like you had no control over how you felt and it left you grasping at straws as you tried to hold yourself together. It was just so hard.

“Go on, go home,” You sighed, flicking your hand in the general direction of the trees, “I don’t doubt that you’ll be back tomorrow anyways.”

The wolf stared at you again, as it tended to, before purposefully bumping its large body against you once more and making for the forest. It hesitated for a moment, looking back over its shoulder to give you one last look, and then it was gone again.

That was what you wanted, wasn't it? But if that were true then why did you hate the loneliness that you were left with so much?

~~~~~~~

That morning, early in the morning, you were awoken by the sound of a hacksaw.

For a brief moment, in the hazy grasp of sleep, you allowed yourself to settle back down when you realized it was just your husband getting an early start on the daily chores.

But your husband was dead.

With that sobering thought you jolted fully awake, gripping your blanket tightly in your hands and pulling it up over your mouth as you struggled to control your breathing. Your neighbors were out of the way and they rarely came to visit anymore outside of the kind supply drops they had provided you with throughout the rest of the winter. So, if it wasn’t them, then who was it?

You rose and with the blanket still wrapped around you, you made for the door as quietly as you could. Once again, the curtain was pulled and fixed to the side like it usually was whenever your companion came to visit you. But the person that stood outside, mere steps away, was very clearly not the massive wolf you had come to know.

You could only see him from the back, but he was very clearly a man. He was a decent height with longer, thick, raven hair that began to curl at the ends. From what you could see of him, you could make out stretches of porcelain skin. He was wearing a loose fit white top and he had rolled the sleeves up past his elbows exposing pale forearms with impressive veins and hands that looked like they had been carved from marble.

Your cheeks grew warm as you realized you were spending far too much time appreciating his appearance rather than worrying about what this stranger's intentions with you and your home were. “What are you doing here?”

The man continued his work, sawing at the wood until the cut was complete before he responded. You then realized that he had been very aware of your presence the entire time, he had not been startled at all.

“You asked for a door, did you not?” He replied, sarcasm tainting his words, as he brushed the sawdust from his hands and turned to look at you.

His face was just as lovely as the rest of him. Dark brows, doll-like lips, and deep brown eyes that had the gentlest slope to them. He was beautiful, that was undeniable.

But what was most apparent and most worrying, was the long scar that ran over his right eye. A scar that you had most definitely seen before. Your body stumbled backwards on instinct, trying its hardest to create more distance between the two of you.

The man raised an eyebrow, a look of pure amusement etched into his features, “You weren’t afraid of me yesterday but you are now? You are a confusing little human, you know that?”

“You - that’s, that’s not possible!” You gasped, tightening your hold on your blanket. “What you’re insinuating is not possible!”

He chuckled to himself, leaning his weight back on his hands as he dropped his chin down, “You want me to prove it to you? I could if you really wanted me to, I do like these clothes though so I’ll only do it if you give me a reason.”

The thought of watching this man, creature, wolf, whatever he was burst out of his flesh and take on a different form was horrifying enough that you were certain you would faint at the very sight. Already you were shaken by the thought of this being possible, you didn’t know if you would be able to handle the sight. Not to mention that subtle innuendo that whenever he decided to take the form of a man again he would be as bare as the day he was born. It was all too much.

“Please don’t!” You cried, “Don’t do that!”

“As you wish,” He nodded with a teasing smile as he turned back to the door in progress. “Perhaps some other time.”

“What is it exactly that you want from me, if you are who you say you are?” You asked.

“I am responsible for you.” He said with a shrug, picking up the saw once more and continuing his work as if what he said made any sense at all.

“No, you are not. No one is responsible for me, you owe me nothing.”

“I don’t? I would think I at least owe you a door, that is what you said after all, remember?”

Heat rushed to your face in pure frustration and embarrassment. He was just as infuriating and insufferable as he was when he was an overgrown dog…that is of course if you were truly willing to believe in that sort of thing. But how else could he have known about your request for the door? Why else would he believe he was responsible for you had you not saved his child’s life? Unless he were some creepy, stalking stranger, he would have no knowledge of these events. This man was the very thing your town hunted and was frightened of.

“Just the door then? That’s all? You will leave after you’ve finished it and your debt will be repaid. You will leave me alone?” You asked.

He paused for a moment, a confused expression taking over his face. He looked at you as if he realized he couldn’t comprehend what you were asking of him. “You confuse me.”

“I confuse you?” You laughed, “I woke up this morning to a strange man outside my home claiming to be something that up until this morning I didn’t believe in, who claims he is responsible for me and owes me when all I want is peace and privacy!”

“That, that confuses me.” He admitted.

“What?!” You cried in exasperation.

“How can someone who so clearly hates being alone also want to keep it that way?”

You wrapped your blanket around yourself tighter, as if that would somehow shield you from the sudden sense of exposure that washed over you. You were feeling vulnerable. You were feeling seen.

“You humans are social creatures, not unlike my kind, yet when you need help, when you’re in distress, you push your pack away. It goes against every natural instinct that you have, it doesn’t make any sense.” He laughed with a shake of his head.

“You are alone here, you have no one to protect you. I can keep you safe in every meaning of the word. Whether that means building you a door, forgive me by the way, or guarding your land. I want to protect you.”

There was a gentle flutter in your heart, one that you desperately wanted to stomp out but were failing to do so. You hadn’t been affected by someone like this since your husband and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about that. He was supposed to be the one allowed to move on, not you. These feelings weren’t supposed to be for you, they were supposed to pass. It was your job to mourn his loss; he was supposed to be your one and only love. These feelings were supposed to be wrong. So why, deep down, did you enjoy them?

Instead of telling him to leave, to abandon his work and yourself, you made the mistake of giving him a chance. You made the mistake of entertaining him.

“I don’t even know who you are,” You said with a laugh of disbelief.

“Yoongi,” He smiled, a wolfish smile, “And you do know me, I’ve been here longer than you know.”

That wasn’t the comforting sentiment that he was trying to make it be. Just how long had he been watching you? You were reluctant to linger on that thought much longer, so you moved on.

“How long will this take you?” You asked, shuffling closer to his work.

“Not long. Lucky you, you happened to pick a shifter whose trade is in woodworking.”

“A shifter? So, that’s what you are?”

Yoongi pursed his lips, his brows furrowed, he was thinking. It was like he was still deciding if he could trust you or not. He was deciding just how much information he was willing to give up to you despite the fact that you had seen him in his other form.

He nodded.

“Are there…are there more of you?”

“Yes,” He reluctantly admitted, you had already seen his daughter after all.

“Why is it that I have only met one of your kind now?”

“Because, we’re discreet. We have to be. You found my daughter in that hunter’s snare, remember?”

“Your daughter,” You echoed, “is she alright?”

Yoongi practically preened at your concern. All you were doing was giving him validation, you could and would be a good mother to her. You could be a good mate for him.

“Our kind heals fast, she’s already running around causing more trouble,” He chuckled, “but don’t be mistaken, I am grateful for what you did for her. You saved her life and you helped heal her. I owe you much more than you know.”

“I saved her life? You couldn’t mean…”

A grim look descended over his pretty features, a dark gaze settling in his eyes as he paused his work once more, his hands tightly gripping the tools they were holding. “That’s exactly what I mean. We have been hunted since the dawn of time. Woman, man, child, it makes no difference to them. Their entire goal is to eradicate us, they think we are abominations. It wasn’t enough that they took my wife, they tried to take my daughter as well.”

Your heart ached in sympathy for him. You knew that feeling, the overwhelming wave of grief and pain that attempted to drown you in your suffering. You had lost your husband and a child, Yoongi was just as familiar with loss as you were.

You crept closer to him, so close that you could feel the warmth that radiated off of his body like a stove. Hesitantly, you reached out to him and rested your hand on top of his. You could feel his grip go lax, his hand relaxing beneath your touch.

“I know how terrible it can be to hear someone apologize and tell you that they know what you're going through, but I think this is one of those rare moments where it’s true.” You said.

You could feel his gaze on you and the scarred skin of his hands beneath yours. He felt so incredibly close, this was the closest you had been to anyone in a while. You swallowed uncomfortably as you felt his hand turn over and the skin of his palm meet yours as his fingers laced their way in between yours.

“My husband…he was killed this winter. I’ll never know what happened to him, or why it happened, but knowing that he’ll never be here again is the most painful thing I have ever felt. It’s indescribable.”

Yoongi tried his best to suppress the inappropriate smile that wanted to make its appearance known on his lips. You two truly did complete one another. You were two pieces of a puzzle that had not been intended to fit together, but had been carved up and forced together. You were altered, created for one another. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, stroking his thumb down the curve where your palm met your finger in rhythmic swipes.

“I know that feeling, I understand it well.”

I understand you, he wanted to say.

“People like us, we should stick together. We can trust one another like no one else can.” He murmured, gently brushing up against your side.

That was enough to wake you up from the dreamlike haze he had put you in. You stepped back, breaking your fingers away from his and holding your hand up to your chest.

It was too soon, too much, you couldn’t be that close to someone, to a man nonetheless. You couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone.

Yoongi took a step forward and you took three back, retreating from the momentary comfort you had felt. But instead of looking dejected like you assumed he would, he looked determined, he looked sure of himself. And that only made you stumble back even more, stepping up your stone steps and into the house.

“I’ll leave you to your work.”

This is what you did. Despite the entrapment you felt by your loneliness, it was familiar, it was right. The loneliness was easier.

It was the only thing you knew you could hold on to for certain.

~~~~~~~

In the days that followed, you became antsy to get out from beneath your visitor’s presence.

You hurried past your uninvited guest, hoping that he wouldn’t notice you with his back turned to you. Your hopes were quickly dashed.

“Where are you going?” He called over his shoulder.

You came to a halt with an exasperated sigh, “Am I answering to you now?”

He only hummed in response and for a reason that you could not conceive, it lit you alight with agitation. “Where I go, is none of your concern!”

That caught his attention, his head slightly jerking to the side as he watched you from the corner of his eye. “It’s not safe out there, not when you’re alone.”

“I was fully capable of finding my way through the forest before you got here, I seriously doubt that I have lost all sense of direction.”

“It’s not your sense of direction I’m worried about,” He sighed, “There’s more of my kind out there and more of your hunters - both of which would not bat an eye at a human getting caught in the crossfire.”

“It’s never been a problem before,”

“No, but it is now.” He said with a stern glare, his eyes not meeting your curious gaze, but instead staring into the distance. His shoulders were tense, his forearms flexed, he looked as if he was burdened with knowledge that he could not share.

“Yoongi, what is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t wander off too far,” He deflected.

You stayed for a moment, suddenly unsure as to what you should do. Moments before you were ready to get out from underneath his oppressive stare, but now you were intrigued. Yoongi had told you about the shared hatred between your species. The humans hunted the shifters and the shifters were reactionary killers. They followed an honor code closely and truly believed in an eye for an eye. So what had happened that now made it unsafe for you to traverse the woods when before it had never been a problem. Why would Yoongi’s kind attack you unprovoked?

Despite your stare, Yoongi was blatantly ignoring you, pretending that he didn’t notice you hadn’t left. That was enough to let you know that the conversation was over no matter how much you poked and prodded.

Without another word, you left. Contrary to what Yoongi had believed, you wouldn’t be traveling too far. Your cottage and the shifter would not be in view, but you knew the way like the back of your hand. It was past the brook, and a good walk through the evergreens. What you were searching for was a small clearing.

The trees lined the space in almost a perfect circle, something that appeared somewhat unnatural amidst the organic shapes of the woods. In the middle, there stood one weeping willow - completely out of place and the only one of its kind. And at the base of its gnarled roots was a simple stone with your husband's name carved into it. The earth was still turned, a reminder of just how fresh his death and the wounds they left behind on your heart were.

You gently lowered yourself to the ground, your skirts folding beneath your knees as your fingers pressed into the dirt. You had often thought about crawling back to him, you had dreamed of being wrapped up in his warm embrace again, the two of you entwined and buried beneath a comforter of soil and flowers. In your dreams you were intertwined so tightly that years from now if anyone were to find you they wouldn’t be able to tell where you began and he ended.

“Hello my love,” You whispered despite no one else being in the clearing. And of course, you were met with the silence, the ever present reminder that he had left you and that he was never coming back.

You sniffled as your fingers smoothed down the fluffed dirt before digging into your basket and pulling out the prettiest wildflowers you could find with which you then began to arrange around the stone. You knew it wasn’t right to spend so much time here, you were holding on so dearly to someone that was gone and no matter how much love you held for him it would never be enough to revive him.

When you were satisfied with your arrangement you allowed yourself to empty your eyes of the last of their tears before patting your cheeks dry with the edge of your pinafore. With clear eyes, you were now able to see a few things that you had missed before.

Hanging from the boughs of the tree were several things. There were colored glass stars and moons that were strung up on several branches all of which varied in color and reflected the sun through them, casting brilliant shards of light over the earth. And, amongst those, were small wolves carved masterfully from wood. You slowly stood, your brows furrowed in confusion as you tapped one of the stars with a shaky finger. It swung back and an ethereal ringing sounded from within it.

What were these doing here? At your husband’s grave?

You looked back at the wooden wolves before you began to piece it together. Yoongi, he had a wife. Was this for her? Was this their version of funeral rites? But if that were true then she would have died recently, but why would she be buried here, where your husband had been killed and laid to rest?

Your heart thumped, your palms began to sweat.

No. No, you refused to believe it.

Their words began to rush back to the forefront of your mind, “pieces,” and “consumed.” Your husband had been ripped apart and eaten, there was barely anything of him left behind.

It was her, it had to have been her, she had been the one to kill him. But if that were true, then who had killed her?

“I am responsible for you,” Yoongi’s words echoed through your mind.

They had a code of honor, they believed in an eye for an eye. Or, a spouse for a spouse.

You turned your back on the burial sight and balled your fists up before pressing them against your eyes. Out of sight out of mind. Out of sight out of mind. Out of sight out of mind.

Yoongi wouldn’t, Yoongi couldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you, he wouldn’t take someone’s spouse from them, he wouldn’t make you feel the same pain that he did.

A rumble pulled you from your panicked thoughts, your breaths still fast and shallow. But what you thought had been the earth shaking, was something far more menacing. Across the clearing stood a wolf, a wolf that was not Yoongi. It was too small to be him and the fur was the wrong color. But the size alone told you that it was clearly a shifter and by the way it was looking at you, you were certain that you were in danger.

You stood still, hoping that if you didn’t make any sudden movements he wouldn’t be provoked but you were sorely mistaken. You could see its muscles tensing up as it crouched low and shifted its weight back towards its hind legs like it was preparing to lunge. No matter what you did, it had already made its decision to kill you right where you stood.

You hadn’t realized you were screaming until you felt the raw pain in your throat, your body acting on its own will to survive as you reeled backwards and hastily began to climb up the tree. If you were lucky, it couldn’t climb, but there was still a human inside of that creature - it was smart, you had seen Yoongi hunt you down before, after all.

You shrieked in fright as you heard the mangy wolf approach, its large paws ripping through the ground as it raced towards you while all you could do was try and climb higher. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough. The wolf leaped and its massive teeth tore into your skirt and ripped you from the tree. For a moment, you were completely weightless - you were airborne. And in that brief moment of freedom, you were quickly grounded by reality when you came crashing down to the ground, your forehead just clipping the top of your husband’s headstone as you went rolling down into the grass.

You knew what would come next. This time, the embrace of death would wrap around you. There was no getting around this. But what confused your shock ridden body even more was the pure dread you felt from the realization that you were going to die. You had once welcomed death, begged for her, prayed for her even, but now when you felt her looming over you you realized that you weren’t ready.

You missed your husband, but you weren’t ready to join him.

And, just as you felt the hot breath of the shifter mist over the back of your neck, it was just as quickly ripped away.

There was a symphony of snarls that followed, the sound of flesh being torn, booming growls, then a pitiful whimper, and a loud snap. And then, all fell quiet.

You were still dazed as you felt warm arms slip beneath your own, pulling you up into someone’s lap and pressing your body back against an even warmer, bare chest. Long fingers prodded at the warm blood that slid down your temple and a deep, frantic voice echoed in your ears - the words were unintelligible.

“I told you not to wander off,” Yoongi said, his lips just beside the shell of your ear, the first words he had said that you could finally understand.

“I told you,” He repeated, his voice wavering and full of emotion as he trailed off.

You looked at him wearily, your head feeling much heavier than it had earlier. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown. The look on his face could only be described as haunting. He was cradling your face with both hands. His thumb stroked your cheek, but his eyes were trained on the weeping willow. He looked just as shaken as you had been before.

That sinking feeling was back in your gut. The suspicions you had were coming back to your rattled brain. But still, you turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, collapsing your body against his completely as you felt yourself slipping away.

He was calling your name, his voice panicked as he held you against him even tighter. You rested your chin on the pale stretch of skin of his shoulder and started back into the treeline. You were finding comfort in the man that you were almost certain was involved in your husband’s death. You were embracing the suspected killer of your husband.

And in your delirium you caught sight of something out there, something you weren’t sure was even real. It looked like one of the clerics from town, his white robes reflecting the sun as he hastily retreated back into the cover of the trees.

A bloodied, naked corpse laid where the mangy wolf once stood.

You found comfort in a killer as a man of god ran away from the sight of the worst sin, murder.

~~~~~~~

Yoongi’s watchful gaze never left you, even when you thought that you were away from prying eyes. When he said he wanted to protect you, that you were his responsibility, he meant it.

It wasn’t safe for you to be alone this close to the woods and this far from town. Even though you chose to ignore this, he knew that he was right. He was oftentimes put on edge when he would think about the possibility of someone wandering through the woods and stumbling upon your cottage. And, even worse, he could imagine what someone would do when they found a beautiful woman, alone, in the middle of nowhere with help miles away. His paranoid suspicions had proven to be true with what happened days before.

“Who was he?” You had asked when you had woken up.

When you had slipped into unconsciousness he shifted once more, swinging you onto his back and racing back to your cottage. It would have been comical to try and watch his massive wolf form squeeze into your home while dragging your body inside, but in that moment Yoongi had trouble finding anything remotely amusing. He had been too frantic to switch back into his human skin and it took him several moments of concentration before he was able to do it.

“He was no one,” He plainly said, his brows drawing together as he dabbed at the wound that split open your forehead.

“You didn’t know him?”

“No,” He sighed, “He was just a nomad, a packless wolf. He must have caught your scent and tracked you down.”

“Was he going to eat me?”

You were met with a sickening silence as Yoongi pursed his lips and bandaged your cut. His silence was a clear answer.

“But, I’m not an animal. There’s plenty of deer and rabbits…” You trailed off.

Yoongi set down the roll of gauze and leaned towards you, cradling your face once more in his hands. “Humans and animals are not all that different, you eat, you sleep, you mate, and you both give chase. Many of my kind see yours and animals as one in the same. What only matters is the hunt.”

Human, shifter, or hunter it didn’t matter, he had grown to trust no one outside of his pack. There were nefarious creatures at every corner, whether he was one of them was still to be decided. His behavior certainly appeared to be nefarious, to an outsider.

He could hear the thrum of your heart in your chest and the quickening of your pulse as you digested his words.

“Don’t be afraid of me, I would never hurt you. I just want to take care of you.” He murmured as he leaned in closer to you and pressed his lips to your forehead is a soft kiss that pulled a sharp breath into your chest.

Since that day, Yoongi’s behavior has drastically changed.

During the day he worked, far slower than what was normal or necessary, and he watched you fulfill your mundane tasks for the day. While they should have bored him, they did quite the opposite. Everything you did seemed so curious, enthralling even. He couldn’t explain this odd tether he had to you. The only thing that he did know, was that he had to be near you. Whatever this was, it had become far more than just a sense of duty he felt towards you.

During the night, when the moon emerged, he would shift and watch from the shadows. He would watch you pull your curtain closed and float from room to room. He would sit as still as he possibly could and listen to your heart beat slow and your breathing even out as you fell asleep. He would sit in front of the gaping hole where your door once sat and he would keep watch, pride stirring in his chest as he protected you.

It was during the night when his daughter would come to visit. Some nights he could hear four paws ripping through the earth as she excitedly ran up to him, other nights he would be greeted by the sound of two little human feet running through the grass. And sometimes, she would morph between the two forms, flickering between the two states like the unsteady wave of a flame.

But, there was one constant with her.

“Mama,” She would whisper, crawling on all fours up the steps.

And every time he would nip her by her clothes and settle her back down in between his massive paws.

It was a silent “not yet.”

You were his responsibility, but his daughter wasn’t yours. Not yet at least.

The three of you had unknowingly settled into a routine. And on the day that the door was finished, that pattern was finally disrupted.

You had grown accustomed to Yoongi’s presence. If you were being truly honest, you would admit that you had grown to like him. You would never admit it to anyone but his presence had filled that hole in your heart that your husband had left behind. You knew that his saving you had caused this pivot in your emotions and in all honesty you were incredibly confused by them.

Yoongi was kind and incredibly gentle in spite of how your initial meeting had gone. His voice was soft when he spoke to you, his smile reassuring, and the gentle touches calming. It was hard not to like him, and it was even harder to remember that he wasn’t human.

But the reminders were there. The odd glow in the depths of his eyes, the wolfish smile, the predatory gaze you had caught sight of whenever he thought you weren’t looking and the looming suspicions you had about his implications in your husband’s untimely death. He was still a wolf, there was no denying that. But you approached it all with the same logic you tended to fall back on: out of sight, out of mind. It was simply easier to not think about it. That, as well as your traitorous feelings for him.

The clouds came out of nowhere the day the door was finished.

“No, no, no, no, no!” You cried as you frantically ran outside and towards your clothesline where you had hung all of your linens.

Yoongi watched you dart in between the fluttering clothes and sheets as the rain slowly began to descend and the wind threatened to whip everything away.

“Yoongi!” You called.

The shiver that sent down his spine was strong. That was all it took for you to rattle him, just the mere sound of his name on your lips was world shattering. You didn’t know just how easily you could ruin him.

“Yoongi, help me!” You called again, your voice stern this time. He thought it was cute when you tried to be in charge.

There had been a definite shift in your relationship after he had killed that wolf for you. You had started inviting him inside for dinner, watching him work, and even spending the evenings with him outside, leaning up against the warm side of his wolf form. And in turn he would accompany you wherever you needed to go, keeping a close eye on you, and a firm hand on the small of your back.

You had grown impossibly closer than you had ever thought you would be capable of. Hell, you hadn’t even questioned why he was wearing your husband’s clothes when you woke up - you weren’t even upset. You were beginning to feel alive again.

The two of your hurriedly gathered the linens. Yoongi had turned it into a game, ripping items off of the line right before you could touch it like it was a race. In all honesty, he made you feel like a kid again. The both of you were laughing, stumbling over the laundry and bumping into each other as you raced inside.

“You were supposed to help me, not compete with me!” You scolded him, dropping the sopping wet pile of laundry into your basket.

“I can do both, dearest.”

Dearest. That had been a recent occurrence. It slipped from his lips one day, it had caused your heart to stutter and your blood to rush and ever since then he had not gone a single day without letting the term of endearment grace your ears. He loved seeing how flustered it would make you, the way he practically purred around the word.

“Or, you could just be kind to me for once.”

“I’m always kind to you, have you not enjoyed the gifts I’ve brought you?” He asked, a faux pout on his pretty lips as he slowly stalked towards you. You could almost see the wolf in him when he did that, you could visualize the swing of his tail and the way his massive head would tip down as his glowing eyes locked in on you. It was there, in the swing of his walk and the taunt muscle of his shoulders. It was an ever present reminder that he was not like you.

You backed up, almost coyly, as he approached. His broader steps quickly gain on your short, shuffled ones. The cold, spring breeze rushed over the exposed skin of your neck, the open doorway was now behind you. But, before you could rush outside and back into the rain and allow him to give chase, he reached behind you and jerked his arm back. In that instant you felt solid wood press against your back, the new door settling perfectly into the once empty frame and blocking off your exit.

You let out a shaky breath as he leaned into you, his chest against yours as he raised his arm above your head. With one swift movement there was a click and then his arm settled by your waist and another click followed. He had locked the door behind you. You were trapped in your own home with the wolf.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Short breaths were passed between the two of you, both of you waiting for the other to make a move. Your lashes fluttered as your gaze traced the contours of his face. You often wondered if he knew just how lovely he was, scar and all.

You swallowed harshly as you raised your hand to his face, your fingers trembling with desire before softly grazing the bottom of the scar. Yoongi’s eyes slipped shut as he moved forward allowing his face to lean into your touch, his body pressing impossibly closer to yours.

“Yoongi,” You whispered.

And with that one simple call of his name, he lunged and went in for the kill. His pretty lips collided with your own as his hand moved to cradle your jaw and tilt your head back with the force of his kiss. With your back against the door there was nowhere for you to go, but there was nowhere else that you wanted to be.

You gasped as you felt his free hand slowly trail up your leg and over your hip before settling on your lower back and sharply pulling your hips against his. A pitiful whimper was passed from your lips to his from the sudden desire that was pooling in your lower abdomen.

A moment of clarity came to you, your mind pushing past the haze of desire when you felt your feet leave the ground. Yoongi buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, his lips and teeth making quick work of the skin there, as he walked. It was when you felt the soft cover of your bed beneath you that you realized what was happening.

“Yoongi, wait -” You tried, but his movements did not falter. His fingers were making quick work of the laces at the back of your dress and he showed no sign of stopping any time soon.

He looked desperate, like he was going to die if he could not have you and the only way to relieve himself of his pain was to unveil every inch of skin that you were concealing from him and each stretch that was exposed was just as quickly covered by kisses and nipped by sharp teeth.

You couldn’t deny the attraction you had for him or the lust you were practically dripping with from his touch. But it felt like you were laying on a bed of needles when you were reminded of your late husband’s death as you were willingly laid down in your marriage bed with a man who was not your husband.

“Please,” You gasped, gripping his shoulders, “not here.”

That seemed to catch his attention as he finally stilled himself. From your position it looked like he was trying to gain some control over himself. His breathing was still heavy, but he had stopped touching you. He looked up at you slowly, his chin just barely brushing over your bare sternum. When he finally looked at you, you stopped breathing. His eyes were lit with moonlight, a silver glow emanating from their depths.

He was more wolf than human in that moment, a creature that was acting purely on instinct.

You cupped his cheek once more and while he flinched at first, he slowly relaxed beneath your touch. He was still eerily silent, and in that moment his behavior reminded you almost entirely of the first time you had met him when he was in his other skin, fully shifted into his wolf counterpart. It was those watchful eyes again, those eyes that held so much depth and awareness that it was startling.

“I can’t, not here.” You repeated.

He blinked slowly, once, twice, and then a third time as he cocked his head to the side. You felt a twinge of fear at that gaze and, shamefully, the rush of lust in your veins. Your body went lax as you allowed him to gather you in his arms once more. He was calmer now, his pace slower as he unlocked the front door and carried you into the night. You could see flickers of your Yoongi in him, his touch much softer as he laid you down in a bed of grass that has been permanently laid flat by the giant wolf that guarded your home.

That night the sky was completely open, not a single cloud obscured the stars or the body of the full moon. It was utterly beautiful. Just as beautiful as the feeling of fresh dew on your back and just as beautiful as the sight of your breath crystalizing in the cold, spring air. But nothing was quite as beautiful as Yoongi. The way that his bitten lips parted with soft gasps and deep moans, the way that his porcelain skin shone beneath the moonlight, and the way that he struggled to part from your lips. It was the way that he would rather kiss you than breathe. Everything about him was beautiful.

You had many regrets in your life, but this would never be one of them. Not when he held you like this, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. Everything about this was supposed to be wrong, unholy even, but that was what made it that more enjoyable. That was what made you tense your legs around his waist, curve your hips against his, and wrap your arms around the back of his neck - drawing him towards your pulse point where he had been nosing at, sucking, and kissing almost obsessively.

When your body shook with pleasure, a rush of warmth and tingles spread beneath your skin, your back arched and your neck was bared. And before you could even realize what was to come, his teeth had already sunk into your neck and shoulder without hesitation accompanied by an almost animalistic growl. The pain was there, it forced a scream past your lips, but it mingled deliciously with the rush of pleasure that emanated from your very core. You gasped and shook, your vision blurring as you were assaulted by your senses, your nails digging into his shoulders.

There it was again.

There was a flash of white in the treeline. It was there for a moment before flickering out of sight as you felt yourself barely clinging to consciousness.

You were being watched again, there was something or someone out there that was following you - watching you in your most vulnerable moments.

You tried to get Yoongi’s attention but he was in a similar state, the both of you lazily holding onto one another and barely moving as you began to drift. Your lips moved but no words were spoken, your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, unable to form words.

Yoongi’s lips were stained with your blood, his eyes heavy lidded but now returned to their dark color that you knew and loved. You tried again to speak but found yourself unable to as he pressed his forehead against your own, his fingers brushing back your messy hair.

The heavy lure of sleep was steadily pulling you under. You supposed it could wait until tomorrow.

Out of sight, out of mind.

~~~~~~~

When you woke up you were back in your bed and you were alone.

The cottage was dark, the windows all closed and the curtains drawn tight. When your eyes fluttered open you had almost believed that it was still night, that you were still outside with Yoongi and you had only momentarily dozed off. But the familiar comfort of your blankets and pillows quickly dismissed those thoughts.

Now wide awake with your sheets pooled around your waist, you could only wonder about where your wolf had gone. Had he left you already? Had he taken your words to heart when you told him that he was to leave when his service was finished? Had he abandoned you after you had shared your most intimate moments with him? What had you done?

You felt a sense of shame wash over you as you stumbled from your bed, dull aches throbbing at various points of your body that only reminded you of what had transpired the night before. Once you collected yourself you made your way to the door your wolf had crafted for you and when you grasped the handle and pulled, you were met with a locked door.

Your face scrunched in confusion as you turned the lock the opposite way and moved the bar at the top of the door but when you tried it again it still would not budge.

You had been locked in your own home like a canary in a cage.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your throat felt impossibly tight as tears began to brim in your eyes. You had trusted him and in turn he had trapped you. How foolish you were to think that you could trust another man and here you were, a betrayer of your husband’s memory.

You sat on the floor curled up by the foot of your bed with a weak grasp on your blanket around your shoulders. There was an unexpected heartbreak that demanded to be felt in your chest, how could you mourn someone who you never really truly knew? Yoongi wouldn’t even tell you about his family, where he came from, or his people. Your relationship, whatever it was, had been an uneven exchange and you had clung to him so quickly because you had been so lonely. It was unfair.

You quickly swept away the tears from beneath your eyes when you heard a lock turn and light began to permeate the darkness as the door swung open. He came back.

The gentle smile he had entered with melted away, a look of concern taking over his face. He crossed the room and you rushed to stand, your arms crossing over your chest to protect and soothe yourself. You flinched away from his touch as he attempted to cup your jaw, the look of hurt and confusion on his face only inspired anger.

“Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He asked, trying to bridge the distance between the two of you as he moved closer while you took to stepping around the bed. You needed to keep him away, you couldn’t be swayed by those gentle touches and kind looks.

“You locked me up, Yoongi. Why would you do that?” You sniffled as you attempted to keep your voice strong and firm.

“I didn’t lock you up-”

“Then why was the door locked? Why couldn’t I get out?” You asked, before leaning forward and grasping a cord that was strung around his neck and nestled beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Why do you have this?”

When you pulled the necklace out his hand shot out to grip your wrist in warning, but the damage had already been done. There was a key on his necklace, the key to your cage.

“I’m protecting you.” He whispered, his tone deadly and his gaze dark with warning. “You saw what happened, it’s dangerous out there - I can’t trust anyone with you.”

“No, you can’t trust me,” You corrected him before jerking your hand out of his hold, “This is my home, Yoongi, my home! You have no right!”

“I have every right, you are mine!”

“I am not!”

His eyes were burning again, he was having trouble keeping his anger in check and you weren’t helping in the slightest. His chest was heaving with every breath and his jaw was tense. You watched him take one long breath in and then out before his arm shot out as he grabbed you by the wound on your neck forcing a pained gasp from your throat.

“I told you, I am responsible for you, I need to protect you. This means that you’re mine and that I’m yours, this is a bond that goes deeper than marriage, do you understand that?”

Your lips trembled as emotion welled in your chest, that told you everything that you needed to know.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

The silence you were met with and the empty look in his eyes was more than enough to confirm. Yoongi had been your husband’s killer. You stumbled back and heaved, waving away his hands that tried to steady you as you felt sickness stir in your stomach.

“How could you? Why? Why did you do it?!” You cried, your fingers shaking as they grazed your lips in pure shock.

His hands were raised as he tried to step closer to you, it wasn’t a defensive position, it looked more like he was trying to calm a startled animal.

“He killed my wife,” He said, his voice much gentler than you expected in your state.

“He wouldn’t!”

“No, but he would kill an animal, wouldn’t he?”

He stopped approaching you and you had stopped moving away, your body having locked up in a state of pure shock.Your silence was enough for him to continue.

“By the time I got there he was already taking her pelt, she wasn’t even able to shift back.”

He had skinned her. He didn’t know there was a person inside of the wolf that he had killed, and he had skinned her.

“I took what was owed to me, he killed her so I killed him and I don’t regret it. The only thing I regret is what that did to you and your child, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I tried my best to give back to you what was taken. I can protect you, I can take care of you, I can give you children, and I can love you.”

His pupils were blown out, there was a look of pure desperation in his eyes. It was a look that made your heart shudder in your chest.

There was a horrible ache in behind your ribs, it felt like it was on the verge of collapsing. It was undeniable that you cared for him, but the sickness that churned in your stomach was rivaling those feelings. You had never felt so betrayed before by anyone. You thought that he would have been different.

You couldn’t even bear the thought of looking at him in the moment, it hurt too much and you knew how powerful those eyes of his were. You refused to be swayed at that moment.

You knew that no amount of words you could say would force him to leave, so you did the next best thing and sprinted for the door. You barely made it a few steps before he lunged and grabbed you by your waist, picking you up with ease as you writhed in his hold. You turned into a feral animal, throwing yourself around wildly and scratching at any available skin you could find as you cried in shrill screams.

“Stop fighting me!” He grunted, throwing you down on the mattress and pinning your wrists down at your sides as he pressed his knees into your kicking legs. “Calm down.”

A scream of frustration burned your throat as your muscles strained under his firm grip. There was no use in fighting him, he was far stronger than you could ever hope to be. And so your body eventually tired itself out, your limbs going limp as you shook from a mixture of fatigue, fright, and dimming embers of anger. The skin beneath your eyes felt tight from all the crying you had done and the skin around your nails throbbed from the scratches you had carved into Yoongi’s forearms. But of course, those flesh wounds had already healed.

You flinched as he released one of your wrists and stroked your face, indirectly drying your cheeks of their lingering tears.

“You’re scared, now. Confused. But that’s alright, you’ll learn that I am the only one who can take care of you.”

You stayed silent and stubbornly turned your head to the side when he leant in to kiss you, but your actions did not deter him, he only laid a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth with a contented hum.

“I’ll prove it to you, I can give you everything that you want.” He whispered beside your ear before he finally stood and the blood rushed back to your arms and legs.

You scuttled backwards up the bed as he gave you one last lingering gaze and then he slipped out of the cottage and locked the door shut behind him.

He had trapped you once again.

~~~~~~~

You had laid there for a long time, frozen after what had transpired. Everything you thought that you knew has been completely and utterly wrong. It had all been a lie.

You slowly sat up and slid your palms into your lap. Your nails were stained with dark blood, you had hurt Yoongi afterall, not that it had mattered. To him, it had probably been no more irritating than a kitten’s scratch. You were once again reminded of his incredible inhuman nature.

You needed to leave, now was your chance to escape him. It was an odd feeling that stirred in the back of your mind. The night before, there was nowhere else that you would rather be, and now you wanted to get as far away as possible. You wanted to run.

With that thought in your mind you lept to your feet and made for the window. You knew that Yoongi would be able to find you, tracking you would be more of a game than a challenge. But if you left now, you would give yourself a head start. You would make for town and when you entered its boundaries it would be too risky for him to come after you. He wouldn’t be able to get you in either skin, the hulking form of that wolf far too obvious and the flesh of his human skin far too vulnerable when outnumbered.

You pried open the shutters and undid the latch. You hiked up the skirt of your night dress, baring your skin to the cool breeze, and swung your legs out of the window and allowed your body to drop down. You needed to go, there was no more time for hesitation.

Your dress was held tight in each fist as you began to run, the light fabric brushing over your legs as you moved. In that moment you had wished for a pair of shears to shorten it.

A pitched howl echoed through the trees and your heart thrummed even harder in your chest. Your limbs froze on instinct and your ears rang with the sound of your blood rushing. It was too high of a tone to be him, you had heard the sounds he had made when he tore that other shifter to shreds. It wasn’t him but it was someone else.

A small, dark, furry form shot out from the cover of the trees and darted through the clearing. Its pace was sure yet frantic, like it still didn't have control of its four limbs nor its speed. As it came closer you began to take cautious steps backward. You knew who that was, it was the pup.

You watched in horror as the creature’s gait became wild and the pup began to trip over itself before the fur exploded from its skin and in its place was a little girl sprinting through the grass.

There was no denying the impossibility of what you had seen, after all you had seen it with your own eyes. There was no forgetting this.

“Mama!” She cried as she collided with your legs and displayed an impressive strength that was disproportionate to the size of her body, sending the both of you to the ground. The world turned sideways for a moment, and there it was once more. That flash of white that you had been seeing for weeks now. But it was closer this time, close enough that you recognized what it was. From the shape of the clothes on the fleeing form, you knew it was one of the clerics from the town. Has he been watching you all this time?

“I missed you, mama,” She said, pulling your attention to her as she stared down at you with a pair of dark brown eyes that sent chills through your veins. She looked so much like her father.

“Binna,” His voice shot through the air, “Remember what I said? Be gentle, you don’t want to hurt your mother.”

“Sorry!” She giggled as she pressed her cheek against your collarbone, her eyes fluttering shut and her long lashes casting shadows over the skin beneath her eyes. She wrapped her arms around your neck and hummed, the warmth from her body seeping into your skin.

“Sorry, mama.” She repeated.

You gently laid your hand over her back, your breaths still uneven as you pulled the two of you into a sitting position. “Sweetheart, I’m not your-“

“Binna, do you want to go see your room?” Yoongi asked, dropping down into a squat behind his daughter, his eyes on you as he spoke.

Binna let out an excited hum of agreement, scrambling up onto two legs that still wobbled unsurely beneath her weight. You noticed that she was never completely stable in either skin she wore, it was like she was still trying to figure out how four legs and two legs worked.

“Come on, dearest,” He said, holding his hand out to you. You sat there for a moment, stubbornly, but his gaze was unwavering and his body was as still as a statue. You knew there was no fighting him and he had played dirty by bringing his daughter into the equation. He knew that you wouldn’t want to start anything in front of her, the last thing that you wanted to do was frighten her.

You let out an angry huff and rushed to stand without his help, storming past him and walking a few paces behind his small daughter who would toddle every now and then before bending over and trying to walk on all fours instead.

As frustrated, frightened, and irritated as you were, you couldn’t deny the tug at your heart when you watched Binna crawl up the front steps of your home and scamper inside. You could hear the sound of her bare feet tapping against the wood floors and you couldn’t stop the resulting burn in your eyes. You had always wanted to hear that sound, you had always wanted a daughter of your own.

But Binna wasn’t yours.

But it was hard to long for that when you watched her disappear into the once empty nursery. You didn’t like what Yoongi was doing, he was messing with your head. He knew how badly you had wanted your child, how you had tirelessly grieved your husband, and now he was trying to patch everything together and force your lives to fit with one another.

You knew that he could understand your loss, he had lost a wife after all. He would do anything to avoid that happening again, and if that meant locking you up while he was gone, then he would do that. But that wasn’t what you wanted. You had locked yourself up for months on end, turning your home into a mausoleum as you grieved the loss of the life you had once had. You refused to do that again.

The door shut and the lock clicked.

You heard him approach and then you felt his warmth as your back and his breath disturb the hair on your head. It wasn’t all that different from the first time that you had met.

His fingers grazed your own and your hand twitched in response but you didn’t move. He intertwined your hands and pressed his forehead against the back of your head, breathing in your scent.

“You have to let me go, Yoongi.” You whispered.

He froze and a low, warning growl thrummed in his chest causing the hair on the back of your neck to raise. It didn’t matter what skin he was in, your body recognized him as the predator that he was.

“No.” He simply said.

“You’re not being fair -”

“I’ve been nothing but fair. I broke your door so I fixed it, I killed your husband and I gave you myself, you lost your child and I gave you Binna. I have been more than fair, so much so that I even gave you my love when you did not want it.”

You ignored that last part, the love you felt for him causing a stabbing pain of betrayal in your heart. It wasn’t fair that you still felt the way you did about him after everything that he had done. After he had tricked you.

“I am not Binna’s mother.”

He quickly hushed you, spinning you around by your shoulders and staring into your eyes, “She can hear you, she has very sensitive ears and a gentle heart, you don’t want to hurt her do you?”

You bit your lip in frustration, “It’s not fair to her mother.”

“You are her mother.”

And that conversation was over, he wouldn’t hear any of your protests and you feared hurting Binna too much to continue to broach the subject. You were caught in between a rock and a hard place. And the worst thing was that it was hard not to love Binna.

She was curious, mischievous, and sweet. She had been the same way when you discovered her as a pup, but you adored her even more this way. All she wanted was your attention, she was a little girl that was desperate to be loved by a mother.

“Why did you leave?” She stumbled over the words, her little fingers twisted in the fabric of your skirt as you had started dinner, the light of the sunset cast over her eyes and bursts of silver shined in their reflection.

You didn’t know how to respond.

“Mama’s back now, you don’t have to worry about that baby.” Yoongi answered for you with a gentle smile as he pulled her onto his lap.

“Forever?” She asked, staring at him with wide eyes full of wonder that only a child could possess.

“Forever,” He repeated, his eyes tracing over the profile of your face.

The questions didn’t stop there. It was a full moon that night and Binna demanded to be outside. Yoongi had briefly told you before about their connection with the moon. It was almost religious, but even that wasn’t a good comparison. It was a part of them.

“Shift.” Binna had commanded, tugging at your skirt again as she had quickly grown accustomed to.

“I can’t Binna,” You explained, lowering yourself into the grass so that you were more level with her height. “I’m not like you, or your daddy.”

Yoongi had stayed close to you all day, keeping a watchful eye on you to make sure that you wouldn’t try to leave them.

“But…” She said, her words trailing off as her face furrowed in confusion, “It was white.”

You were confused but a quick look at Yoongi cleared that up. His gaze was glassy like he was remembering something, something that he didn’t want to think about. Binna must have meant her mother, she must have seen her before she left. Her pelt must have been white.

Yoongi cleared his throat after a moment, “I think it’s time for bed.”

Binna, even though she was a shifter, was still a child. She whined in protest and went limp as Yoongi scooped her up in his arms and held onto your hand, guiding the two of you back into the house.

The door shut, the lock clicked.

The both of you cleaned Binna up together, her feet and hands dirty from struggling to crawl in her human form and her hair a mess of twigs and leaves. She had laughed as she watched the pile of leaves grow beside the basin and attempted to jump into it like it were a much bigger leaf pile than it really was.

And when she was clean, fed, and tired, she crawled into the center of the bed and reached her arms out for you. Your heart ached again. As soon as you laid down she was curled into your side, her little arms curled into her chest as she pressed her nose against the bite mark on your shoulder, taking in deep breaths.

The lamps in the room were snuffed out one by one, the room becoming progressively darker until it was completely plunged in darkness and only the gleam of silver eyes at the foot of the bed were visible. The bed dipped beneath Yoongi’s weight as he climbed in, laying on the other side of the bed behind his daughter. When he laid down he rolled over, wrapping his arm around the two of you and pulling you in closer to him.

Binna hummed a happy noise, burrowing deeper into your shoulder and burying herself beneath your blankets.

“What is she doing?” You asked, the first time you had spoken a direct question to Yoongi since that morning.

“You smell like me, it’s how we identify each other. She feels safe with you.” He explained.

“So that’s why you did it.” You said, a bitter edge to your words as you smoothed your hand over Binna’s freshly washed hair. “She doesn’t know any better.”

“That’s not true. She chose you, and so did I. She knew you were safe, that’s why she let you take her that day. And this,” His fingers ghosted over the mark sending chills down your spine, “was purely for my own selfish benefit. I wanted everyone to know that you’re mine.”

“You didn’t even give me the choice.”

“I love you, and I know that you love me.”

You remained quiet, not willing to agree or disagree with him. It was hard to make sense of madness, whether that be Yoongi’s or your own.

“You’ll see it eventually, this is what you wanted.”

~~~~~~~

When you woke the next morning, you immediately knew that something was wrong.

Firstly, Yoongi was gone. The spot on the bed that used to be your husband’s was cold, he had been gone for a while. Secondly, Binna was curled into the corner of the room, hiding beneath a blanket as she shook. And when you looked closer, you could see the tip of a snout and a still tail peeking out from beneath the blanket. She was frightened. Thirdly, there was smoke in the air, something was burning.

You stumbled out of bed when there was a pounding on the door.

“Open the door!” A man yelled, the door knob shaking as he tried to open it himself. Your instincts were screaming at you that something was wrong.

“Open up, and pay for your crimes!” He yelled again, this time throwing his weight against the door.

That couldn’t be right? Crimes?

You crept closer to the front window, the wood shutters were pulled shut but there was a crack that you had peered through, unnoticed, many times before. This time, the sight that you were met with was horrific. There was a large, angry crowd with torches outside - illuminating the pitch black field around your home.

You had heard of these events before, but never had you considered that you would become the victim of one, not when you were so isolated from the town. But it was happening now and you needed to act fast.

You rushed to the corner where Binna hid and scooped her up into your arms blanket and all. Her snout sniffed at your bite wound before she began to settle down. You ran to the nursery and to the very back of the room where the crib sat. You gripped it with one hand and with a strength you didn’t know that you possessed you pulled it aside. Your heart pounded and your breath was coming in harsh pants as you moved to the window.

“Binna,” You whispered, forcing yourself to make your voice as soft and soothing as you could. You had one priority right now and that was to get her safe. You had seen what those hunters were capable of before. “I need you to run as fast as you can, and I need you to find your daddy. Don’t stop running until you're safe, don’t stop no matter what you hear.”

Binna stared back at you, her ears perked up as her glossy silver eyes poured into your very soul. Binna was a little girl, but she was smarter than any human child. You trusted her.

A loud thwack sounded from the front door, a sound that you weren’t all that unfamiliar with - it was the sound of an ax striking the door. Your motions became faster and more panicked than before, your nails ripping at the bottom of the window that groaned as you forced it open. You grunted and with one more hard push, it popped and raised and there was enough room that Binna could slide through.

“Don’t stop running, be very brave.” You whispered before pressing a quick kiss to the space between her ears and lowering her as close to the ground as you could. And then, her body left your hand and her dark fur disappeared into the night. You could only hope that she could find help on time.

You had a terrible feeling that you weren’t going to make it out of this.

A loud crack and sharp splintering sounded from the front door and then the thud of boots entered the kitchen. You stayed as quiet as you could but you knew there was no hiding and you needed to buy Binna time.

You slid an oil lamp off of the dresser and hid by the door, waiting for it to open. The boots approached quickly, they didn’t want to give you time to get away and they were hunting you down. This was nothing like the way Yoongi had hunted you, it was un-practiced, frantic, amateur.

When the door to the nursery slammed open you brought the lamp down on the back of the man’s head and sent him crashing to the ground as blood pooled onto the wood. But when you darted out into the hallway, there was already someone else waiting for you.

You swung the lamp towards him with a scream but he dodged, grabbing your wrists and bending them in such a way that a sharp scream echoed through the cottage as you lost your grip and the lamp shattered upon impact with the ground.

The man from the nursery was up and moving and now he was behind you, pulling rope from his belt.

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled, and before you could move he had punched you clean across your face, sending you sprawling on the ground.

You could taste blood in your mouth as he straddled you from behind, wrapping the rope around your hands.

“Get off of me!” You screamed, wriggling desperately but to no avail. All it earned you was another strike to your head that made your vision blurry and spotted.

When you came to, you were being dragged out of your house. The door that Yoongi had painstakingly crafted was shattered.

And, as soon as the three of you were outside, torches were thrown and the house was lit aflame.

“No!” You screamed, guttural sounds that ripped through your throat. “No, no, no!”

Your husband had built that house. It was the only thing that you had left of him. It was yours, it was where you were supposed to make a family and grow old together. And now that dream, that life, was being burned to the ground.

It was absolute chaos.

The smell of smoke burned in your nose and made your eyes tear up on reflex. When you had thought of all the ways that you could possibly die, you had never considered this as an option. You wriggled violently in your bonds like a wild animal trapped in a snare. The rope was digging into your wrists leaving behind raw, bloody wounds. There was no escape, but you couldn’t help but try. If you didn’t free yourself, then this would be it.

There had been a time where you craved nothing more than to be reunited with your deceased lover, but when faced with the frightening reality of death you wanted nothing more than to live.

Violent, raw screams tore through your throat as you were held down to the ground. There were hands everywhere, gripping your shoulders, your legs, and one in particular that was knotted in your hair.

“Silence, witch!” A man yelled, pressing down on your neck and forcing your face into the dirt.

“Witch? Witch?!” You shrieked, another manic scream breaking up your words as you writhed against the ground.

You could hear the murmurs of the crowd that surrounded you and with a strained eye you could see nearly the entire town gathered around you and the men that held you captive. It was clear what this was, but you didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe that your own kind would turn on you like this. But that seemed to be your plight, those you tried to trust always turned out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The hand that was wound in your hair tightened its grasp spurring a pained gasp from you as they began to drag you. You could only desperately writhe in the dirt as you were pulled closer to the crowd. You were certainly a sight, your hair a deranged mess, filled with leaves and twigs with dirt smeared down your cheeks and staining the tips of your fingers. Their rough treatment of you had only served to make you appear as the very thing they feared. The thing they were accusing you of being.

You finally came to a stop in front of the town elder, the men behind you forcing you into an upright position on your knees, your arms still painfully stretched behind your back.

The elder looked at you in what could only be described as disgust.

“Behold, the witch who has brought a curse upon our village,” He spoke, his voice raspy and low, causing silence to descend over the group in order to hear him.

“I am no witch-“

“Quiet!” The man behind you yelled before delivering a harsh smack to the side of your head, forcing it to snap to the side as you cried in pain.

“The accused has brought death to all of your doors. She who murdered her unborn child in a covenant with the devil and brought those beasts to our home, and she who slayed her husband to feed those wretched demons and seal their bond to her will continue to slaughter us where we stand. What say you, shall we stand by and allow this to happen?” The elder said, opening his arms to the crowd who voiced their agreement.

This was the man who had known you since you were a child, the very man who had approved your courtship with your husband, the same man that married the both of you. This was the man that would ultimately kill you.

Yoongi was right, humans were horrible creatures.

Your body had gone limp, your head rolling forward as if your neck could no longer bear the weight of it. Desperate, wounded cries burst from your lips. You had not killed your baby, you had not killed your husband, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. They had already made their decision.

“The punishment for these crimes shall be paid by that of which you are familiar,” The elder said, gesturing to a horrifying sight looming behind him, “Hellfire.”

You couldn’t hear the screams that burned your throat, you could only feel them. There was a loud ringing in your ears and the feeling of your feet and shoulders digging into the ground as you were dragged toward the stake and unlit pyre before you.

They were going to burn you alive.

Your cries for help were left unanswered, there was not a single look of empathy on anyone in the crowd. He had truly convinced them all that the deaths that had plagued the town were because of you. They believed you were the one that had brought the shifters upon them even though that didn’t make sense, they had been there long before you and longer than they realized. But there was no getting through to them. What the elder spoke was considered divine nature.

You sounded like a wounded animal, horrific sobs and screams shaking your body as you were tied to the stake. Nausea swirled in your stomach and your heart pounded, the fear that you felt was indescribable.

Vaguely, you understood that you were mumbling something repeatedly under your breath which was not helping your perception with the crowd. It looked like you were trying to cast a curse upon them. And if you could, you would.

But what you were saying was far from that. All you could brokenly whisper was, “I did not kill my baby.”

The scent of smoke became even stronger and from in between layers of your hair, you could see a torch flickering. The flames wavered, almost teasingly in nature, like it was deciding whether or not it would engulf you in its fiery embrace. Ultimately, that would not be its decision.

“Return from whence you came, witch,” The man before you spoke, and with the crook of the elder’s finger, he lit the pyre.

Heat licked at your feet and ankles as the fire slowly but surely crept up the logs and branches piled around you. This would be a long, slow, tortuous end to your life and that was what they wanted. They wanted to put all of their rage, pain, and hatred onto you and they would make certain you experienced the full extent of their wrath.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you accepted your fate. You cried as you watched the flames lap at the edges of your skirt - eating away at the hem. In a matter of seconds it would eat the fabric away and begin charing flesh and bone.

But it was when you lost all hope, that fate decided to play yet another trick on you.

Frantic cries were coming from the crowd and when you raised your head you were shocked by the sight of six massive wolves emerging from the trees. It took no time for you to realize that they were just like Yoongi. Binna had made it back to them, she had gotten them to come and help you and thankfully she was nowhere in sight.

The crowd pressed in closer to the elder, who’s face had gone gray at the sight of the wolves, as the six shifters surrounded them, corralling them all into one place.

In the midst of the madness, you hadn’t noticed the presence behind you until you felt your ropes loosening.

It was Yoongi.

The fire was searing both of your clothes yet he remained, slicing through your bonds with deft hands. He had come for you, he had saved you.

The moment your bonds slid from your hands he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you from the stake and pyre, the two of you sinking down to the ground in each other’s embrace.

“Yoongi,” You choked, your lungs thick with smoke and ash.

“Shh,” he hushed you, “just breathe, breathe for me sweetheart, just like that.”

His hand came to rest on your chest while he guided yours to his, taking in exaggerated breaths so that you could follow him.

Yoongi was many things: your husband's killer, your captor, your protector, and lastly - your savior. It was impossible for you to describe what you felt for him as it was no longer black and white. If there was anything you did believe, it was that nothing was ever that simple. There are many truths and many lies, it all was dependent on what you wanted to believe.

You coughed again, the force of it shaking your entire body as Yoongi pulled you into himself tighter. You were in his lap, chest to chest, with his nose buried in your hair. You could feel him breathing in your scent, a growl radiating through his chest when he realized it had been tainted by smoke and other men.

“I thought I lost you too,” he sighed before pressing a desperate kiss to your temple and then your cheek. He treated you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Help us!” That raspy voice called out to you again.

You slowly turned your head to face the elder who had placed himself in the middle of the crowd, using the bodies of his people to shield him from the wolves that were steadily circling them.

Help them.

Help them?

Help them?!

You cocked your head to the side, a look of bewilderment and rage taking over your features. Why should you help them? After what they had done to you? After what they had accused you of?

Humans were horrible. You didn’t need them, after all, you much preferred to be alone.

You didn’t need other humans.

“Yoongi?” You whispered, maintaining eye contact with the elder.

“Yes?” He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Kill them all.”

You felt his warm finger trace the curve of your jaw before turning your face in his direction. He looked down at you in a mix of adoration and excitement before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss.

“As you wish,” He murmured before setting you down on the ground and joining his brothers.

In a matter of seconds he burst free from his skin, a giant wolf in his place alongside the tattered remains of his clothes. The crowd screamed in fright from the sight of his transformation and then from the massive fangs of seven wolves.

You sat there, knees drawn into your chest as you watched Yoongi carve his way through the crowd and toward the elder. And, with great ease, he forced the man to the ground and ripped his head clean from his shoulders. A large spurt of blood soared through the smoggy air, painting the grass a vibrant color.

You watched on as several more people were felled by the shifters, their gruesome screams quieted by large jaws and hooked claws.

You were numb, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about their lives that were swiftly ended - their souls ripped from their bodies.

You craned your neck back and stared up at the full moon, eyes dull, red, and finally dry as more gurgled screams were silenced.

Out of sight, out of mind.

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colormepurplex2 · 6 months

Text

Bump In The Night | MYG

▻ Bump In The Night ↳ Bogeyman!Yoongi x f.Reader ⤜ Horror/Thriller/Demon, Nyctophobia ⤜ Monster Under The Bed AU | angst, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 12,395 ⤜ Summary: The dark can be scary; full of strange, unseen things. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on your fear, the lights go out, and you face the reality that you were always right—you should fear the dark and especially what’s waiting in it. ⚠️ Crass language, fear, inciting fright, playing on emotions, teasing, kissing, fingering, biting/marking, dom tones, begging, choking, panic, unprotected v. sex, feeding on fear, dark thoughts, revealed dark intentions, predator/prey tones, chasing, claiming, serpentine tongue, oral f.receiving, monster cock/sex, metamorphosis

Written for the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween collab for @minisugakoobies A/N: Sunny, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it. Happy belated birthday and hope you have a pleasant spooky holiday full of Bogeyman Yoongi delight!

A special thank you to @star-my @hisunshiine and @downbad4yoongi for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Beg For It

Nyctophobia [ nik-tuh-foh-bee-uh ] - noun Psychiatry: extreme or irrational fear of the night or of darkness.

One…

Two…

Three…

Breathe. Another few seconds, that’s all you want; just precious moments to prove yourself.

Four…

Five…

Six…

Cold chills slither down your spine despite the hot water beating against your back. Your fingers work vigorously against your cheeks and along your forehead. What feels like a thousand pounds settles along your lashes, even though you know it’s nothing more than marshmallowy-light foam.

Seven…

Eight…

Nin—

You spin around, nearly losing your footing in the shower as you angle your face under the spray from the showerhead. The heels of your palms press against your lids as you try to rid them of the foamy facial cleanser.

Air wheezes into your lungs, stray drops of water sucking between your parted lips as you try to breathe against the panic building in your chest. Jerking back from the spray, you open your eyes, wincing at the sting from the water-mixed-with-cleanser that drips from your lashes and floods the corners.

Nothing. There’s nothing there. All you see is the steam-filled space of your shower, water pelting down at your feet, a smattering of bottles arranged on the lip of the tub, and the inside of your plain shower curtain.

You sigh, irritation itching in your chest. Not even nine seconds. You were trying for at least ten. It never fails to leave a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you can’t seem to get a grip on yourself. It’s just the dark. Hell, it’s not even really the dark. It’s just having your eyes closed against the bright fluorescent lights of your bathroom; a pseudo-darkness.

The unease in your stomach refuses to dissipate as you turn off the shower, step out, wrap yourself in a towel, and go through the routine of brushing your teeth and massaging moisturizer into your skin. You hang up your damp towel, quickly pulling on the oversized t-shirt and shorts you intend to sleep in.

Steam clouds the mirror. You don’t typically care to wipe it away, not anymore. It’s one of your small, personal victories—one you intentionally remind yourself of now after your panicked stint in the shower. It used to be that you couldn’t stand not being able to see the space behind you through the reflective surface. Knowing if something lurked outside your line of sight, it couldn’t hide from being exposed through the mirror. Being able to see behind you was all that mattered. Now, you take pride in not needing to see…yet, the niggling in the back of your head won’t cease. So, you swipe a hand, collecting tiny beads of moisture on your palm as you go.

You’re unsure why the act makes your heart beat a little harder. It’s supposed to elicit the calm you so desperately need. But, once you’ve slashed a clear path across the mirror, your brow furrows as you lean in closer to it. Cold dread thunders through your veins as you jerk back, spinning on your heel to make sure what you saw through the mirror wasn’t just your mind playing a trick on you.

Nope, not a trick or even a figment of your imagination…unfortunately.

You stare in paranoid disbelief at the slender gap along the bottom of the bathroom door. The door that leads into your bedroom where you are absolutely, without a doubt, positive you left your bedside lamp on. The gap is dark, like a void threatening to suck you right into an endless nightmare of unrelenting terror. All that’s missing is a gaunt, skeletal hand sliding its too-long fingers under the door.

Shoving away those intrusive thoughts before they can take root and further fester like a dirty wound on your sanity, you try to think logically. It’s possible the bulb in your lamp could have blown, but you know you replaced it just last month. It’s far too soon for it to blow on its own, and surely, it’s not a faulty bulb. So, why is it out? Were you careless and, in truth, didn’t turn it on? A manic laugh gets caught in your throat as you silently berate yourself. That must be it. You simply forgot. So careless.

Fear is an acrid taste on your tongue as you slowly approach the door. You hate this feeling. Even though you tell yourself there’s nothing out there lurking in the dark to harm you, you simply forgot to leave the light on. The distress doesn’t subside—and it won’t. At least, not until you open the door and prove the dark to harbor no ill intent toward you.

Squaring your shoulders and taking what is supposed to be a calming and fortifying breath, though it feels more like sand slipping into your lungs, you wrap your fingers firmly around the brushed nickel handle. The metal is warm, slightly wet from the condensation formed during your shower, against your palm as you twist it.

You lick your trembling lips, taking one more moment to center yourself. Your eyes slide closed as you mentally recall the layout of your room, calculating how many steps there are to get to the nearest light switch. Your bed is angled so the foot faces the bathroom door, and the closet door to the left near the two windows you know are closed tight with the curtains drawn. The bedroom door is easily the furthest from the bathroom, leaving the overhead light out of the question. You knew, before you even began to analyze, that the bedside lamp you recall yourself leaving on is going to be the closest light source. Still, you needed to go through the motion of solidifying that information in your mind.

As you haltingly push it open, the quiet creak of the door, which sounds deafening in the silence of the bathroom, causes chills to pop up along your arms and the hairs at the nape of your neck to stand on end. Darkness ebbs as the light from the bathroom bleeds across the hardwood of your bedroom floor, slowly revealing the interior of your room.

Your heart lurches, and a scream rips from your chest when you see a dark figure sitting at the end of your bed come into focus as the bathroom door swings further open, the handle barely held in your now numb fingers. Panic barrels through you. Your muscles react instinctively, fingers tightening around the knob as you jerk back, the door closing with a harsh bang as you backpedal across the bathroom.

“Babe,” calls a playful voice from just on the other side of the door. You can barely hear it over the roaring in your ears. Nausea threatens to double you over, even as relief floods your system—such conflicting emotions that you feel suddenly off-kilter.

There is a fine sheen of cold sweat clinging to your neck. Your hands fist into the front of your shirt as the door eases open to reveal your boyfriend standing at the threshold. His dark ensemble makes it seem like the bathroom's light bends around his form, not daring to touch him.

You’ve never liked it when someone intentionally scares you, claiming it’s a joke. It always seems more like a cruel prank than a laughing matter. Though, you note, no one is laughing right now either way. He doesn’t look smug or self-satisfied for having scared you, just simply mildly amused.

“You scared me, Yoongi,” you state flatly, crossing your arms over your chest, hoping he picks up on your discomfort.

The corners of his lips turn down, and his brow furrows as he gives you an exaggerated pout. Even with your pounding heart and the upside down in your belly, you can’t help but appreciate how cute he is when he does that. “I know. I just didn’t see the point in wasting the power if you weren’t going to be in there.” He gestures vaguely behind him to your room, which is barely lit by the light pouring out of the bathroom.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to remind him that even though you weren’t in there, he was. Though, for some reason, Yoongi sitting in the dark doesn’t strike you as out of place. In the five years you’ve been together, you’ve learned to love his odd quirks just as much as any other part of him. He’s genuine, a caring person who isn’t afraid to be vulnerable—a far cry from anyone else you’ve ever given your time to.

“How was work?” you ask, aiming to get back on track with some semblance of normalcy—anything to not dwell on the lingering discomfort that’s still beating away in your chest.

His shoulders hitch up in a nonchalant manner. “Same as always. There’s been a big break in the Hunt case. Director Park thinks we’ll have the code cracked in a few more days. I say by tomorrow night, tops, just in time for our date. It’ll be a reward for my hard work,” his eyes twinkle with mirth. “After all, I think Samhain is a pretty fitting day for dealing with evil, huh?”

You make a noncommittal sound at that last part. Yoongi might enjoy that thought, but to you, tomorrow is more so just a day…simply October 31st and is more about plastic pumpkins, like the ones you have sitting on your front porch, than dealing with evil like that. The fact that Yoongi has convinced you to go to a festival tomorrow night is so wild you’ve been forcing yourself not to think about it.

“Well, I’d put my money on you over Director Park any day,” you say instead, giving him a soft, knowing smile. Yoongi has a penchant for estimations. If he thinks it’ll only take another day to crack a code that’s been wreaking havoc on Interpol for the better part of a year, then you believe him. You don’t pretend to understand all the intricacies of what he does; just know he’s really good with computers and helps whichever government agency needs it most or something like that.

Yoongi gives you a lazy smile in return. “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear. Your confidence in me is like kindling for my fervor,” he croons, wrapping you up in his arms. It feels good to relax in his embrace, the last vestiges of your earlier panic melting away as you soak in his warmth and familiarity. “Sorry I scared you,” he murmurs into your damp hair. “Let me make it up to you.”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, laughing softly when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt and teasingly caress your sides—the touch is light, making your skin tighten and prickle in response.

A rumbling groan vibrates through Yoongi’s chest as he playfully nips along your jaw before planting his lips firmly over yours in a dizzying and claiming way. “We’ll start with kissing,” the words are whispered between plucks of his mouth against yours, tongue swiping sensually across your bottom lip.

“Kissing is good,” you agree, smiling against his mouth before melting into another heated tangle of tongues and stilted breaths. That fist around your heart eases, letting your chest expand fully for the first time since before you showered.

“Biting,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck. The light pressure of his teeth pressing against your skin has your toes curling against the cold tile floor and your fingers fisting into the front of his shirt.

Yoongi plants his mouth right over your pulse point, his tongue flicking over your throbbing vein as his teeth clamp down gently. You swallow hard against the sensation, your heart shifting gears to thud fast in your chest for a different reason. It’s not necessarily fear that drives your senses higher now so much as it is anticipation and an increase in adrenaline—terror adjacent, something you prefer much more to the former.

You shudder against him, knees going weak as he moans, the sound sending pulsing shocks of vibrations down your spine with how his mouth fits against your neck. His fingers ghost along your shorts before finally pushing past the elastic band. The palms of his hands are warm as they slide around and grip handfuls of your ass.

Using his hold on you, Yoongi lifts you up onto the counter beside the sink. As his hands retreat, they tug your shorts with them, working them around the curve of your ass until they’re caught at your knees. You let him push them further until they slacken and fall to catch around your ankles, then onto the floor. Wincing slightly at how cold the counter is against your bare skin, you urge him to fill the space between your thighs, seeking his warmth flush against you once again.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, sucking in a sharp breath as he slides a hand between your bodies and presses the flat of his fingers against your pussy. You don’t need to look in the mirror to know his teeth have left an impression on your neck. He leans back and licks his lips in a show of appreciation, lidded eyes full of mischief and barely veiled lust. “Please.” It comes out warbled as he teases his middle finger between your lower lips.

“Beg for it,” he says. “Show me how much you want me to make you forget about the darkness.” His voice has an edge, like he’s teasing at something, but it’s lost on you to piece together what it might be.

Sucking in a deep breath, you repeat your plea, “Please.”

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and you can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding between your legs and under the sensitive skin of your neck that Yoongi ravaged with his teeth. Lightheadedness kisses the edges of your clarity, daring you to get lost in the delirium that Yoongi is offering.

“You can do better than that,” Yoongi taunts, his laugh low and husky as he pulls away, leaving you bereft of his touch where you want it most. “Beg. For. It.” The words are clipped, punctuated with staccato taps of his middle finger against your sensitive clit.

“Fuck—Yoongi, please! Please, I need you!”

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi smiles wickedly. Two slender fingers sliding into your wet heat are your reward. “You’re so wet already. Look at how your body is pulling me in. Fuck, that’s nice.” He angles himself so you can both look down and watch his fingers slowly pull out, glistening with your arousal before sinking back in.

Your body squeezes around his fingers, walls fluttering in anticipation and building pleasure. “Need you,” you mumble, grabbing at the button on the front of his dark wash jeans with one hand and tugging at the bottom of his black t-shirt with the other. “Fuck me, Yoongi, please. Please, fuck me. I need you to make me forget.”

A flurry of motion accompanies his answering growl of approval as he helps you strip him out of his clothes and the rest of your own. You barely feel the absence of his fingers in your cunt before he pulls your ass to the edge of the counter and shoves his cock inside with a guttural moan that echoes in the small space.

The fit of him inside your body is deliciously perfect, like he was made to please you. Your fingers press dents into his shoulders as you grip him tightly. One of his hands squeezes your hip to keep you from slipping off the counter while the other finds its way to having a light grip on your throat.

His forehead rests against yours, the back of your head pressed against the mirror behind you. The angle makes his thrusts shallow, forcing the crown of his cock to rock against a sensitive spot deep inside that has you seeing spots behind your closed lids.

Yoongi has always been a contrasting lover, hot and cold, in a way that always leaves you breathless and assuaged. The look on his face says he’s fucking you, but the sensual roll of his hips says he’s making love to you—the hand on your throat says he just wants to control you. Regardless of how he fucks, it always consumes you. From the first time to now, he wholly and utterly devours your sanity and spits it back at you two-fold. He brings you palpable lucidity while also destroying all sense of right and wrong. Some call it morally grey; you call it just another titillating facet of who he is.

Pleasure builds fast, and you know you’re about to tip over the edge when the pressure of his hand on your throat increases. It’s an infinitesimal change, but it feels like the tightening of a vice all the same.

The erratic beat of your heart stutters further, swallowing you down into a thick-headed spiral of trepidation. You know Yoongi won’t hurt you. It’s not that—not quite. It’s the idea and knowledge that he could. It’s a taboo feeling, craving that helpless flutter deep in your belly that dares you to indulge in the darkness instead of running from it.

Yoongi’s hips continue to roll against you, your body pinned in place by his hand on your throat. Your eyes flutter open just to fall shut again as the hand on your hip moves until his thumb presses against your clit, making your body jerk and hurtle back toward the precipice of pleasure from before.

With his thumb pressed against one throbbing artery in your neck and the pads of his fingers against the twin on the other side, he has complete and utter control over you. All it takes is another barely-there squeeze to have you changing your grip from his shoulders to his forearm.

The bitter taste of cowardice laces together with the cloyingly sweet, carnal flavor of lust that’s coating your insides. Yoongi rumbles, a moan low in his chest. The rhythm of his hips kicks up until they’re hammering against yours to the point that measures of pain mix with the terror, forming into a rapture of exhilaration. His thumb coaxes your orgasm through precise flicks over your swollen clit.

You can’t help the sound that rips from your throat, squeezing past his grip in a ragged mockery of a moan—bright colors spiderweb across the backs of your closed lids as you sip from his chalice of wickedness. White noise joins the rush of blood in your ears as somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, alarm begins to bleed into the hazy euphoria clouding your head. “Yes!” Yoongi groans. “That’s it, fuck!”

“Y-yoon—“ you try to choke out his name, fingers trembling from their tight grip on his forearm. Just as you’re about to try and shove him away to get a reprieve, his hand loosens its hold on your throat, and the instant rush of oxygen to your brain washes away all other thoughts as your body surrenders once again to his dominion. The orgasm tears through you, sweeping you out in a hedonistic riptide. Your walls clamp around his cock so hard he snarls and shudders with the trigger of his own release.

You must have blacked out from the overwhelming cascade that besieged your senses because the next thing you’re aware of is Yoongi tucking you into bed beside him. The sheets are cool against your heated skin, a welcome lull of relief. He presses into your sated body, chest against your back and arm possessively curling over your hip. “Get some sleep, my queen,” he murmurs. “I’ll hold the darkness back.”

The room is dark, just as it was earlier when you panicked. But, just as always, when Yoongi is around, it’s less frightening…seemingly somehow less dark and foreboding. He might have darker desires when it comes to pleasure, but right now, he’s the light that chases away your other demons.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

The taste of your fear still lingers in the back of Yoongi’s throat as he pretends to sleep curled around you. He knew turning off your bedroom light would scare you. It’s why he did it. The peckish feeling that rumbled in the pit of his stomach drove him to want to play with you. Your fear instantly sated his hunger, and it made his dick hard when you screamed. You scream so prettily he just can’t help that natural, primal response.

That is, after all, precisely why he chose you. Everything about you speaks to his needs, promising sweet and succulent fruit that’s always ripe for plucking.

He learned early on that if he could elevate your heart rate and incite a sliver of fear in you while fucking you…well, his full belly is testament enough to how much he loves that. You call it a kink, he calls it dessert. It wasn’t his intention to fuck you after he frightened you, but the irritating erection grating along his zipper had other plans.

His mortal form isn’t his favorite. It’s far too small and has far too many baser needs and limitations. Though he does enjoy the feel of your soft, pliant flesh under his—especially when you’re ripe with the sweet smell of terror—it makes it worth the discomfort this inferior mode has.

It’s not lost on Yoongi that he could have ruined you from the start by taking too much from you. But he’s been careful over the years, molding and training your body to be the perfect vessel for him to feed from. The fact you were already experiencing high anxiety and an innate fear of the dark prior to him coming into your life helped tremendously. Nyctophobia is such a beautiful thing.

You claim he’s helped you, for the most part, get over your fears. However, he knows this is just a lie you tell him and yourself to make yourself feel and seem braver. He knows the truth, though. There is no getting over your fear, not when it lives with you…sleeps next to you, touches you, fucks you. He’s everything you’re scared of, everything you think is creeping around in the dark, waiting to pounce. He’s your worst nightmare…literally as much as figuratively—and you have absolutely no inkling of that truth. All you see is what he lets you see: just a sweet guy with a penchant for darker tastes behind closed doors.

To you, he’s just Yoongi. But he has had many names over the centuries: Demon, Baba Yaga, El Coco, Butzemann, Tikoloshe, Bogeyman, and so on. All of them are generally the same, but none are quite right. He is all these things, and yet none of these things—he’s so much more.

It’s a common misconception that he only targets people who do misdeeds. That’s not it at all, for the sweetest fruit is the unwary, the innocent, the vulnerable, and the scared. That is the pinnacle of his desire, the unctuous delight that feeds his depravity and gives him power over the darkness—darkness that calls to him now.

Being careful not to wake you, Yoongi slips out from around your soft, lush body. Feeding on your fear in the bathroom drained some of your vitality, lowering your constitution, and the best recovery for that is a good, uninterrupted eight hours. So, he’ll leave you to replenish so that he may feast once again—one last time before he executes his final, ultimate plan; the whole reason he chose you to begin with and has been periodically parading around in this limited meat suit for years.

The maw of darkness under your bed beckons him to shake off the mortal form and take his rightful place as King among the shadows. Yoongi catches his reflection in the standing mirror across the room. The only thing distinct is the brilliant red eyes staring back at him. It feels good to stretch and dissolve into his proper form, shadows snaking along his limbs and filling his every breath.

You fidget on the bed, brow furrowing as your body reacts to the nearness of his proper form. He likes watching you twitch and shift, soft mewls of fright sounding low in your chest. If he wanted, he could swallow you whole, and you’d never be the wiser, one moment existing in your nightmare and the next slithering into the ether of what comes after. But, it’s not time…not yet.

Letting one of his long, spindly shadow fingers draw back in and reform into the echo of human flesh, he presses the blunt tip against your temple. You instantly quell your movements, and the pitiful cry in your chest subsides. Yoongi can feel the subtle tremble of your body, the vibrations skittering through your flesh as your body recognizes his hellish touch. Your subconscious is as familiar with his umbral form as your conscious is with the lies he’s used to frame how you see him with your eyes.

Digging through the screen of your nightmare, he pulls back the darkness and lets in just enough light to lull you into a false sense of security—something he does nearly every night after he’s fed from you so he doesn’t accidentally drain you dry. By the time he returns, the light will have faded from your dreams, and there will be just enough unfettered distress permeating the air of your bedroom to give him a top off of delicious fear, his own personal cup of pick-me-up.

Yoongi slides under the bed and into the darkness, leaving you to your deep, lambent dreams. He melts through the barrier between your world and his. Euphoria buzzes through him as his depth of power increases. That’s the biggest downfall of walking the mortal plane. There aren’t quite enough shadows or stinking fear to fill the neverending void inside him. But here, in the Realm of Darkness, the taste of terror is thick and nectarous. It lingers in the air and is as permanent as the oxygen you breathe in your world.

Yoongi drifts through the firmament of his domain, letting the worries and stress of what’s to come fade. For a being with endless power and control, he never thought he might have the need to be concerned over something seemingly so trivial. But, the ceremony and ritual he has planned for tomorrow night is easily the most critical thing he’s ever dared to accomplish.

The Realm of Darkness might be sufficiently filled with succulent fodder for him, but there are other limitations he encounters. Constraints that involve the worlds beyond his Kingdom. He doesn’t want just to be able to thrive here on his own turf. He has aspirations of letting his darkness seep into the outer realms—including yours—and if he has his way, you will help him do just that. The barriers will crumble, and he’ll be free to bathe the distant realms in his thick ichor of destruction.

Finally feeling more like himself, he aims for the Shadow Spire, where waits the Throne of the Damned—his throne. All it takes is a simple thought, and he’s standing in the sprawling cavern of the throne room. It stretches wide in all directions, having no end or beginning, just existing as his will needs.

Pillars of malachite soar into the air at equal intervals, disappearing into the glittering cosmos expanse above his head. Silvery flecks of light cast the whole room in a mockery of the night sky of your world, something he’s grown to admire over the years spent there. Yoongi takes a deep breath, soaking in the tangy, bitter stench of brimstone and copper. Soon, he hopes, your delectable perfume of fear will join them.

“Sire,” a gruff voice says in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you back until the ritual. Welcome, is there anything we can do for you?”

Yoongi settles his shadowy form on the monstrous broken stone pillar at the top of the dais that rises from the rocky floor. His court, ever vigilant in their duty to him, wait for him to respond. “Is everything prepared for the ceremony?” he asks, eyes finally landing on the six figures seated on the smaller stone plinths arrayed in a semi-circle in front of him—the Shadow Court once again complete with his return. Hopefully, he won’t have to leave the comfort of his court but one more time. Once the ritual is done, he shouldn’t have to so much as lift a finger to reach into the overworld.

“All is well and ready, Sire.” Wicked smiles spread like wildfire across the court. They’re just as excited as Yoongi is to be finally moving forward with the plan. None of them have tasted the kind of fear that Yoongi has feasted on from you—the fresh terror of the mortal realm—but if they had more corporeal forms, he knows they’d be salivating. Soon, so very soon.

Looking around at his companions, he can’t help but think how humorous it is that you so readily believed his deceptions about working for the human government. He remembers the day he finally stepped from the shadows and made himself known to you. You were immediately drawn to him and couldn't stop yourself from indulging in your curiosities like a moth drawn to a flame.

Yoongi had already come up with an elaborate backstory and characterization for the human he wanted to portray. He knew all of your deep, dark fantasies and brought them to life. Your eyes got round with awe and reverence when he first revealed his supposed job, confirming how gullible and under his spell you were. He can’t deny it’s worked in his favor.

He’s allowed to keep odd hours and disappear as needed. When he returns to your bed before the sun rises, he’ll leave you a note on your pillow about being pulled away for work. You’ll read it and sigh a dreamy sigh as you have every other time he’s done that. You never bother to seek further explanation—your trust in him is so wholly concrete.

There is satisfaction in the freedom you’ve granted him to embrace a darker side. It’s how he can get away with fucking you so callously that your brain warps it into some deranged form of love. You’ve chalked every depraved thing he’s done to you up to him needing an outlet after dealing with such heinous stuff for work. He only had to mention a few well-known acronyms, like FBI and CIA, and you accepted it. As scared as you are of the dark, he’s aware of the collection of slasher and horror novels you keep stuffed away under your bed and that you listen with rapt attention to those silly crime shows and podcasts that tell you he’s not the one you should be scared of. Soon, he won’t have to worry about any of that, though—no more silly backstory, no more hiding, no more stuffy mortal form, no more holding back. Tomorrow signifies a change, a new beginning. It’s the time when the veil between the worlds will be thin enough that he can drag you down without it sucking your life away. Some call it Samhain, Calan Gaeaf, Mischief Night, Halloween—it holds nearly as many names as Yoongi himself does—but for him, it will be the night he calls triumph. The night his shadows will lay a claim to you wholly; the night you stop fearing what goes bump in the night and instead stand by its side and let it consume you.

Wicked Delight

Consciousness comes in fits and spurts of clarity. There is a moment where you’re asleep but aware. With this awareness, you can discern and feel the potent darkness webbing across your subconscious. You’ve seen it before, the myriad of inky tendrils that zig-zag through the light like fissures over a dried river bed. It scares you but also fills you with intrigue so rich it nearly eclipses the fear.

You know that if you could just hang on to that in-between space, the feeling of teetering on the edge of a knife, you could examine the darkness further and figure out what it is and where it comes from. But your body has other plans, sucking you away from your inspection and pushing you toward uneasy wakefulness.

Shifting under the blankets, a crinkling noise draws your eyes open to land on a rumple of white paper lying beside you on the empty side of the bed. With fumbling fingers, you grab the ripped leaf of creamy parchment and turn it so you can see the blue scrawl of words.

Got some darkness to take care of. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Don’t forget; 11 pm sharp, beginning of the corn maze. X

There is no name signed to the note, just an X, but you know who left it, regardless. You roll over, holding the thin paper above you so you can see the faded, faint print under his ink. A smile tugs at your lips when you realize it’s a corner ripped from Kinder und Hausmärchen, one of Yoongi’s favorite books. He has an original first edition that he’s let you moon over a few times. The first time you found a note and saw what it was written on, you nearly crawled out of your skin to berate him for ruining such a prize. He gently chided you for your reaction and assured you it was just a copy, scanned and printed for the whimsy of it.

Looking closer, you see the corner is from a page of the Cat and Mouse in Partnership tale. Your smile fades, turning into a mild frown as an odd feeling ghosts beneath your skin, eliciting goosebumps to pop up along your arms. Sighing, you shake your head and pull the blanket up high under your chin, chalking the sensation up to being cold. Your eyes rove around the room, taking in the early morning light filtering in through your thin curtains, showing you just enough of the inside of your room to be comfortable with not having a light on.

Finally deciding there’s no point in dallying in bed further, you toss back the covers and brace yourself against the chill in your room. Only, it’s not as cold as you were anticipating. Opening the small drawer on your nightstand to deposit the message in with the dozens of others Yoongi has left you over the years, you can help but smile. They’re sweet, little pieces of him that affirm to you why it’s okay he disappears the way he does. The reminder comforts you, especially on this day.

Halloween has never been your favorite. Well, that’s not true, exactly. You do like Halloween—just the modern and more mainstream version with candy, pumpkins, and warm, spiced drinks. Fall colors are also something you enjoy. The cooler air is nice. You’re partial to cozy sweaters and boots, too.

All in all, you enjoy this time of the year. You just don’t necessarily like the darker parts, the scarier parts. Haunted houses and scary movies are things you could do without unless it’s under very specific circumstances. Such as having Yoongi there. Which is the only reason you’ve agreed to meet him at the festival tonight. You haven’t been since you were a teen and got so scared by the fright actors that you swore never to return.

Except, now, you are returning. It’s been on the tip of your tongue for the last week to cancel on Yoongi, feigning a head or stomach ache. But, the sheer excitement in his gaze when you agreed, has been enough to make you bite your tongue every time a protest bubbles up. You can—and will—do this.

With an entire day to go before your date with Yoongi, you busy yourself with mundane tasks. A bit of cleaning, some light reading, and lastly, dumping a few bags of assorted and prepackaged candies into a bright orange bowl with a goofy jack-o-lantern face printed on the side.

You’re usually a porchlight-off kind of person. Still, this year, considering your own venture outside your proverbial Halloween box, you decided why not go the extra mile for others, too? Even if one kid dumps the entire bowl into their treat bag, you’ll at least feel somewhat accomplished in your attempt.

Setting the bowl on your doorstep, you stand back and survey it. The yellow-tinged porch light illuminates the candy and the plastic pumpkins you have arranged on either side of your door. You contemplate adding a ‘please take only one’ sign for the bowl but decide a paper warning isn’t much of a deterrent. Leaving the candy to its fate, you head back inside to finish getting ready.

Time flows in a weird, out-of-body kind of way. You’re aware of pulling on your coat and walking into your garage through the kitchen—even the process of driving to the festival registers in your mind. But, you’re genuinely not cognisant of what you’re doing until you’re staring at the large flashing sign for the festival. You have to practically put on blinders to make it through the ticketing process, ignoring the scare actors as you wait in line.

The corn maze is at the center of it all, meaning you keep your eyes glued to the ground as you skirt the edges of the food stalls and game stands until you reach it. There, you wait, standing at the start of the corn maze and stare at your watch, counting the seconds as they tick by with the small hand.

The air is cool, the crisp scent of fall heavy around you. Laughter and faint screams carry to you from the festival surrounding the maze. The giant corn labyrinth is the center of the entire two-week-long event. Thousands of people flock from near and far to venture within the husked, cream-colored stalks.

If you make it through the maze without assistance from the scare actors, then you get an entire bucket of caramel popcorn drizzled with chocolate. That’s never been enough of a reward for you to try. Even the last time you were here, you never stepped foot into the clustered embrace of the maze.

The festival is lit enough with all the twinkling lights and fair games lining the thoroughfares and the midway. Food trucks and stalls litter through the vendors with stuffed animals and cackling clowns. You try to ignore the bodies that sway and shamble through the crowd—the scare actors. They’re just people dressed up in costume and makeup, but they still elicit that flighty feeling in your belly, that little trickle of fear.

At the ticket booths, there were neon green necklaces you could purchase. You used them as a distraction while you waited in line. They’re ‘no scare’ necklaces, big bright indicators that you’re a sensitive little bitch that doesn’t want to be scared. At least, that’s how you felt looking at them, considering buying one. You know they’re an extremely valid item, a protective emblem that many people need, and that it’s perfectly fine—in fact, it’s encouraged for people to use them if they need to.

As you fingered the green nylon of the lanyard, you couldn’t help chewing your bottom lip, worrying at it until it cracked under your teeth and the coppery tang of blood danced across your tongue. You almost bought it…maybe you should have. However, the fact that you’re half-hidden by the corn maze sign and doing everything in your power not to draw unwanted attention to yourself seems to be keeping you from attracting the actors your way.

The tiny hand on your watch ticks away, drawing closer to turning over the minute, which'll turn over the hour to 11 PM. Sharp. Yoongi’s insistence. Just as the hands come together on your watch, you feel that telltale tingling feeling of eyes on you. It’s a familiar sensation, one you often associate with Yoongi. Daring to step out from behind the sign to the corn maze, you spin in a slow circle, trying to catch sight of him.

“Looking for someone?”

You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the shriek that rips from your chest as those words drift in from right behind you. So close that it’s impossible to imagine you hadn’t noticed him approaching you as you looked around.

“Yoongi,” you sigh, dropping your hand.

He's enveloping you from behind before you can turn around and give him a pouty yet stern look. His familiar musk and warmth ease your heart back from its hammering gallop. “You’re good enough to eat,” he gruffly murmurs, pressing his nose into the fabric of your coat at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You can feel more than hear his deep inhalation, as if he’s drawing in the scent of your very soul and branding it throughout his olfactory system.

“The maze closes in an hour. Are you sure we can make it to the center before then?” you ask, voice light and airy as relief infused with drips of serotonin weaken your knees and your resolve to be upset with him for frightening you. You turn in his arms, keen to look upon his face for another kick of comfort, but it sours in your belly when you take in his pulled-up hood and the thick black gaiter covering the bottom half of his face. “What’s that for?”

Yoongi shrugs, shoulders lifting in his typical nonchalant manner. “It’s Halloween. Consider me dressed for the occasion.” He winks at you, but it does nothing to quell the unease still rolling around just beneath your surface. Feigning that stomachache is starting to sound more and more appealing, Yoongi’s excitement be damned.

“You look like a burglar.”

You can’t see his smile, but you can tell it’s there by how his eyes crinkle and lids lower mischievously. “And you look ripe for the burgling.”

“You’re insufferable,” you gripe teasingly, finally letting a smile grace your face despite the lingering anxiety. It’s easy to forget your fears and worries when you’re looking into his umber-colored gaze.

“Come on, let’s go.” Yoongi offers you his elbow, and you tuck your hand into the crook of it, leaning your shoulder against his arm.

The fleece-lined leggings you chose to wear keep you warm enough, paired with the knit sweater and thick tweed coat covering your top half. Your chunky boots are comfortable and practical for the slightly uneven terrain of the cornfield-turned-maze. Yoongi is far more casual in just jeans, the hoodie, and a pair of dusty and worn sneakers.

You study his face the best you can past the edge of his hood and out of the corner of your eye. He’s just as handsome as always. Even the black fabric covering the bottom half of his face doesn’t detract from his allure, which seems to be intensified by the deepening darkness around you as he leads you through the maze entrance.

A festival worker stands off to the side in full-on farmer-gore. Their overalls are covered in faux viscera, and there is a bloodied sling blade dangling from their off-hand as they beckon you and Yoongi forward with their other.

“Tonight's savior phrase is ‘Pumpkin Guts’, yell it out if you need assistance navigating the maze, and a helper will assist you,” he offers before turning to the next patron approaching a few feet behind you and Yoongi and giving them the same information.

“Pumpkin Guts,” Yoongi scoffs with a quiet laugh. “Surely they could have come up with something far more fitting than that.”

“I find it kind of nice. The childish charm of it helps make a situation like getting lost in the maze less scary, don’t you think?”

His eyes look more onyx now that you’re within the maze, the only illumination coming from tiny, sparse fairy lights. They catch your gaze, and you see a smile tilt up the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “That’s adorable.”

“What?” you laugh, feeling heat crawl into your cheeks.

Yoongi shakes his head, his smile growing. “You always find the good in everything. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

All the residual anxiety from earlier bleeds away with just that singular statement. You press in closer to Yoongi and angle your face up in silent request, to which he immediately obliges. He hooks a finger in the lip of his gaiter and pulls it down so he can slant his mouth over yours. His lips are warmer than usual, his breath carrying faint hints of bourbon as he teasingly slips his tongue through the seam of your lips. All too soon, he’s pulling away, leaving you with just that small taste of him. The gaiter slides back into place, and he nods ahead of you. “The quicker we make it to the center, the quicker you get the surprise I have waiting for you.”

“A surprise?” you ask, thoroughly intrigued.

His affirming hum in response turns into a soft chuckle as you eagerly quicken your steps, tugging him along beside you. As someone who isn’t partial to being shocked or scared, it’s perhaps a bit ironic that you love surprises of the unknown. They just have to be the right kind—like one from Yoongi; er, well, at least the ones that don’t involve him sitting on your bed in the dark as you open the bathroom door or so you tell yourself—but you digress.

Though, perhaps there is a bit of enjoyment from those kinds of surprises, too. In a twisted, semi-fucked up way, the surge of adrenaline is like a counterweight to the dopamine response from your amygdala that follows any time you get frightened. The perfect balance of emotions. The fight or flight reflex makes your body feel like it’s keyed up with extra energy, leaving you feeling like you’ve just run a mile or fucked for an hour. It’s maybe a little unhinged to salivate over those small sips of terror secretly. Does that make you a masochist?

You’d almost think Yoongi picks up on your inner thoughts with the way he makes an amused sound in the back of his throat and gives you a sidelong, knowing look. Something tingles beneath your skin, an electric feeling akin to loose ambitions. It seems tonight won’t be so bad after all.

The crunch of dried corn husks and hay accompanies the occasional scream or laugh echoing from various points in the maze. You’ve only led Yoongi to a dead-end a handful of times so far, but the anxiety at not having found the center of the maze yet is starting to mount.

“I can feel your stress in the tension in your hand,” Yoongi muses softly. “Relax, you’ll get your surprise.”

“What if they close the maze before we make it to the center, though?”

“They won’t.”

You cut a quick glance at him. He looks smug. “You seem so sure, but from my count,” you shift your attention to your watch, “we only have fifteen minutes before the festival closes, and I’d guess we’re nowhere near the center yet.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I may have paid the vendor to let us stay as long as we need.”

“You did what?”

“Tonight’s special,” Yoongi tugs you to a stop, his hands engulfing yours, and gives you a pointed look. “Very special.” The thumb of his right hand grazes over the expanse of skin above the knuckle on your left ring finger. “Now, let’s go find the center…and your surprise.”

A new sensation trickles in–excitement. Your heart patters faster as you turn and haul Yoongi on with renewed vigor. Gone is any trepidation; in its place, nothing but giddy and barely veiled anticipation. And to think, you’d almost been silly and canceled on him.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

Yoongi wasn’t exaggerating when he said you look good enough to eat tonight. If only you knew how close to an accurate statement that was. He’s had a constant flow of moisture seeping into his mouth since he laid eyes on you standing behind the wooden sign for the maze. He had just finished setting up the surprise for you in the center, utilizing his natural form in order to move quickly without being seen.

All the implements he needs await him at the maze's center. The theatrics of it all are only for fun. He could have simply taken you without them. But he’s always been partial to playing with his food before devouring it. The pungency of your anxiety as you waited was a delightful appetizer to what is sure to be a satiating main course.

Every time you make a wrong turn in the maze, Yoongi can feel the tension in your muscles and the momentary disappointment that flavors your scent. It’s amusing watching you shuffle your feet and grumble under your breath before turning and backtracking.

It’s not lost to him the amount of uncertainty you’ve had ever since he asked you to go with him tonight. Not that he would have given you a choice in the end; he’d have taken you by force if needed. But he’s a passive creature at best, so the less work he has to do, the better.

Using the ruse of there being a surprise waiting for you isn’t entirely untrue. Though, the treat he’s confident that he’s planted the idea of in your head is far different from what’s actually going to happen. He’s spent enough time in the mortal realm to know what you’d have interpreted from him stroking that particular finger with the right look in his eye. Your heart had gone into a frenzy of thick, heavy beats, and your eyes had lit up with wonder.

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he knows what’s driving your feet to move as quickly as they are now. It’ll just make the disappointment taste that much sweeter. Over the five years he’s been administering to you, molding you into the perfect vessel, he’s learned the small nuances that make you tick. Whether it’s for eliciting fear or excitement, desire or anguish, he knows exactly how to produce the results he wants.

“Ugh,” you grumble for the dozenth time when you turn a corner and come to another dead end. “This is impossible. How can you find enjoyment in these things?”

Yoongi smirks. “It’s quite analytical if you really want me to answer that.” The way your nose wrinkles when he says that is positively adorable. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

You gleefully cede the lead, letting him guide you back and toward a different direction entirely. You’re still excited, bubbling with positive anticipation, even though you’re no longer playing the game, per se. It’s interesting how you so quickly relinquish the hunt—he’d never.

The noise of the festival and maze has long since fizzled away. He didn’t actually pay the attendant. He’s just using some of his ability to mask your presence from anyone who might get in the way. Some of the lights from the midway are still going, and a few rides are lit up. However, the deeper Yoongi leads you into the labyrinth, the darker it becomes. He’s confident you’re so wound up that you don’t even notice how his shadows grow and stretch along the narrow walkway around you.

“Oh, look!” You excitedly point at the opening that comes into view at the end of the row. “I can smell the popcorn. Did that bribe include a bucket waiting for us, too?”

Yoongi has no idea if there is popcorn waiting, but he imagines you’re only smelling the lingering scent. He can’t detect anyone else within a hundred-meter radius around the maze. If the prospect of popcorn makes you happy, then sure. “Of course it did. We’ll need a snack once I’m done with you.” Which mostly isn’t true, though he can’t be sure. Yoongi has never shadow-turned a human before, much less taken a mate in the process. You might be ravenous by the time he’s done; though, he’d bet it won’t be popcorn you’ll be craving.

There is a distinct moment where Yoongi can feel the shift in your demeanor. Your excitement dips into confusion as you take in the finish line area that’s deserted of anyone and anything other than the large 10 ft square structure he erected in the middle. The raw malachite plinths are so dark the lindworm-colored stone seems to absorb the illuminance around them, turning the gateway into a giant pit of darkness that devours the faint twinkling lights. Shadows bleed from the open space between the pillars, reaching for their master.

Yoongi’s blood sings with desire as fear trickles in with the confusion. “Yoongi,” you whisper his name, and it warbles from your lips oh so beautifully. “What’s that?”

“That’s your future, my love.” He untangles himself from your grip, circling you like a predator. “Now, run!” he snarls from right behind you.

You don’t even scream when he shoves you forward, your arms windmilling and boots tripping over the scatter of dried corn husks before you topple headlong between the pillars. The last thing he sees before the waiting shadows swallow you is the whites of your eyes as you throw a panicked look over your shoulder at him.

It’s mildly disappointing that you didn’t even so much as grunt or give him any sort of satisfaction that you’re petrified other than the cloying perfume of your terror that settles on his tongue when he huffs in irritation. Hopefully, when he follows you through the gateway, you’ll already be on the run because he’s in the mood to play a while longer before he shatters the world as you know it.

Yoongi wants you to recognize him, so he only casts off some of his mortal form, choosing to keep his face and most of his body intact. What changes is his size; he grows larger, arms and legs longer, fingers more like talons, and eyes the dark red of fresh blood.

He knows he looks monstrous, even more so with the cloth still covering the lower half of his face and the hoodie now ripped and hanging from his physique. As soon as he slides through the barrier of the gateway, he’s met with that euphoric sound he hoped for earlier. Your scream rends through the thick, stale air of the Realm of Darkness, music to his ears.

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi crows, his voice gravelly and distorted by his natural form. He inhales deeply, sucking in your dismay's succulent and divine fragrance. “Fuck.”

You scream again as he steps toward you, which spurs you into gaining your feet, not even caring to look at the soot-like substance caking your hands and knees. Yoongi can only imagine the thoughts warring inside your pretty little head right now. Wild fear makes your eyes flick frantically around before you choose a direction and sprint at breakneck speed between the skeletal trees surrounding this side of the gateway.

He chose the Forest of Decay specifically because it provides the perfect environment for a chase. It allows him to easily keep up with you while giving the illusion of protection. There’s also not a single nook or cranny Yoongi isn’t intimately familiar with; after all, he can’t have you finding some unknown hole to burrow into.

The flash and flicker of your coat draws his attention as it zigs and zags through the petrified sentinels of the forest. Their long, gnarled branches reach far, entwining overhead like a macabre endless bird's nest. It creates a dim atmosphere, with the faintest hint of light bleeding through the limbs. Each tree is about a foot wide and twenty feet high, the ground covered in sooty ash; it’s an ideal playground.

“Leave me alone!” you sob when Yoongi lets you catch another glimpse of him.

Yoongi shudders as a fresh, new wave of terror undulates from you and washes over him. “No can do, my queen.”

The thrill of the chase adds kindling to Yoongi’s need to consume you whole. Every step you take is reckless. You throw yourself around trees so fast you nearly hit the next. The spacing between the trees is relatively narrow, just a few feet at most. Still, with the way you’re barreling through them, you’ve already accumulated a few scratches and minor lacerations from the dried bark, feet kicking up small puffs of ash with every frantic step. The tangy, sweet scent of your blood makes him salivate. The thick, viscous drool coating his tongue will make it all that easier to fuck you with it once he catches you.

Lumbering on behind you, Yoongi intentionally stomps and makes as much noise as possible. Every crack and thump he makes has a whimper shivering from your throat. The thick appendage between his monstrous thighs swells with each terrified sound you make. Fucking you in his proper form will be such a treat. Surely, it’ll be far better than any sex he’s had with the limits of his human body, even if he does love the way your softness compliments his.

But there is nothing soft about Yoongi now—not when he has such a tasty morsel running and screaming so prettily for him. He’s all hard edges and thick muscle. A manic chuckle bubbles in his chest as he leaps ahead, hounding your heels.

It’s comical, ironic even, when he watches your foot catch on a high root hidden by a pile of ash, and you go sprawling on the ground before him. He’s seen enough of those cheesy horror films so fervently worshiped in your world to know how funny this is.

“Please, no! Leave me alone!” you beg through ragged breaths. Your face and hair are marked with scratches, flecks of dried bark, and the pewter-colored ash covering the ground.

An appreciative moan works its way free of Yoongi as he stands over you, swaying like he’s drunk. Which, maybe he is. There is a faint buzzing in his ears, and if he opens his eyes too wide, your image doubles. Two of you; he grins wickedly at the prospect. Now, that would be a definite treat.

As it is, there’s only you; that will be sufficient for what Yoongi has planned. He looms over you, and the backward-bending joints of his knees give slightly as he towers across your prone form. Your eyes pan over his arched body, perhaps for the first time, taking it in with true clarity. Yoongi lets his skin ripple between human and proper form, coalescing and whirling with shadows.

With a flex of darkness, he rends the remnants of his clothes. The ripping of the seams and subsequent soft plop of the ruined fabrics echo through the suddenly silent space. You’re barely even breathing as you take him in, eyes landing on the swinging cock that nearly brushes your belly as he places a gnarled hand beside your head in the ash.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, though it comes out more like sand in a grinder. Lowering further, Yoongi nudges your chin with his nose, guiding your head sideways to give him unfettered access to your throat. Pressing into the crook of your neck, he huffs hot breath over your skin, rejoicing in the instinctive reaction. Your skin prickles and flushes with goosebumps, and a thick cloud of potent fear wafts up as your pulse hammers away beneath his lips.

“P-please,” you whimper through trembling lips. Tears stream down your cheek and drip off the bridge of your nose. Their salty tang mixes with the sweetness of terror pervading the air.

That word, spoken in that way…it does something to Yoongi. He groans, nipping at the skin of your neck with his blunted teeth before letting them elongate so he can adequately graze your papery-thin flesh. You cry out when they slice through, leaving behind thin blood trickles and shallow scratches.

Your blood is laced with fear, blooming on his tongue like an ambrosia of the gods. “You’ve always begged so prettily, my queen. You’re a treasure, and I’m so glad I found you all those years ago, so innocent and unsuspecting—my perfect mate.”

The next scream that leaves your lips is guttural, full of panic and delirium as Yoongi takes his first pull from your body. Thin wisps of black shadow thread from his lips to yours. They pulse with every drag he takes. He’s fed from you thousands of times, but never like this—never so profoundly.

Fear, terror, horror, fright…it’s all the same, and yet Yoongi is almost sure he can taste the distinction. Like a fine wine, you have tasting notes that vary with every sip. By the fifth breath, your body has grown slack, your eyes wide and glassy. Tears still stream down your face but in silence.

Yoongi watches your pallor grow sickly, waxy as sweat pearls along your hairline and temples. Draining you is a delicate affair, something he’s both dreaded and looked forward to for so long. Watching the fire that he loves so much bleed from your eyes and the vigor leech from your skin pangs him with a foreign sensation, something akin to mourning? He realizes now he will mourn the loss of your human form, even if it’s far inferior to what he will turn you into.

With one final shuddering gasp, the darkest, thickest tendril of shadow snakes its way between your parted lips. Your fingers and limbs spasm as the inky darkness roots in deep, tethering itself to you like the strings of a marionette. It pulls tight in Yoongi’s own chest, cementing his essence to yours. As a barbed ring of shadow settles on the ring finger of your left hand, the bond snaps into place, and chaos ensues.

🖤🖤🖤

You’ve never experienced such visceral fear before. It’s consumed every fiber of your being. You’re no longer who you once were and will never be the same again. You are simply fear incarnate.

A boiling starts beneath your skin, beginning at the tips of your fingers and toes before rolling through to the center of your chest, where it pops and sizzles like dry ice in tepid water, so cold it burns.

It’s like flipping a coin. One minute, you are experiencing insurmountable terror, and the next, you exude it. Nothing can scare you now, not even the monster sitting a few feet away watching you with calculated eyes—familiar eyes, eyes you’ve lost yourself in more times than you can count.

They’re not as cold as they were a moment ago. You distinctly remember how those red eyes softened right before you felt yourself float away. It’s Yoongi, you know this, but it’s also not. He’s different, and it’s not even the deformed, gangly shadow form that makes up his body, either. There’s something more, something that draws you in, like an anchor dragging you into his deepest, darkest depths. He’s a vast ocean, and you’re pretty sure what he just did was akin to drowning you—killing you.

Only you don’t feel dead.

Quite the opposite, in fact. For the first time in your existence, you feel truly alive; and not in the living sense but in the eternal sense. You have no ending or beginning; you exist as you will yourself to be.

With that thought, your body urges you to change, to morph into a far more comfortable form. Darkness seeps from your pores, cascading out of your skin until it becomes a mockery of its former self, and it feels good—so good.

“What have you done to me?” Your voice sounds different, soft yet sultry. It reminds you of black silk and lace, devious and coy, with the perfect mix of husk and drawl.

Yoongi lets out a slow breath, the sound like dry leaves crackling. “Made you mine.”

“What…what are we?”

The soft ash sifts between your now exposed toes, the boots you once wore laying in peeled strips along with tattered remnants of your clothes. Nudity has never been an issue for you, but it’s as if you have no inhibitions at all now. The shadows around your body contort to form curves and perfect swells.

“We have many names. Demons, bogeymen…it’s all very fitting, yet doesn’t quite capture the truth. What I am—what we are—is darkness, fear, terror, and shadow. We are infinite, endless, and everything all at once.”

“Why me?” you whisper. That tether inside of you pulses, pulling tight as you shift and try to put distance between yourself and Yoongi. It’s like a rope around your throat, pulling you up short.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. “This is the Realm of Darkness—my domain,” he gestures broadly with a clawed hand, “and it was all I had access to until I found a way to enter yours. Once I tasted the sweet nectar of fear it provided and the power it allowed me access to, I couldn’t stop my curiosity and need for more. Then I found you, and I knew you would be the perfect compliment to my aspirations, just the thing I needed to break the barriers completely.”

He straightens up, and the way his body catches your attention has a heat flaring somewhere deep in your being. Your eyes lock on the dark sinews and plump muscles that stretch and contract as Yoongi moves to crouch in front of you. The ribbed and notched cock swaying between his thighs dribbles a thick, viscous line of lavender-colored arousal.

Tearing your eyes from the sight of it, you force yourself to look into his feral, red eyes. His explanation is both confusing and clear at the same time. You understand it, but know that you should be railing against it because it’s morally incomprehensible. You’ve essentially been kidnapped and forced into what this is. Yet…yet—“I feel…” you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe it.

“Powerful,” Yoongi offers with a knowing, pointed-tooth grin.

“Powerful,” you repeat, letting the word roll around your tongue before nodding. Perhaps that’s why you are shrugging off your cares and the moral compass that has seemingly forgotten how to point north.

The subtle smell of burnt wood and sulfur hits you as Yoongi raises a hand to fit across the front of your throat. Those too-long fingers engulf it, sending a shiver down your new body. Instead of your belly filling up with fear, it fills with desire and need. You no longer need to battle the terror, letting it drip away from you instead.

“Look at you. You’re so perfect. You don’t feel scared, but that’s only because this realm leeches it away and devours it before it can poison your mind, leaving behind nothing but how you truly feel.”

You know there has always been a darkness inside you, something that even you feared to face head-on. After all, it must take some kind of crazy to be both scared of the dark and want to embrace it. It’s not just the way Yoongi plied your body and made you forget to care about being proper and good. Is this what you were made for—all the fright and terror you’ve experienced and secretly sought out leading you to this very moment here?

All it takes is one look at Yoongi to know the truth.

You were created for this, crafted to be precisely what Yoongi needed, just as he said.

With that moment of clarity and acceptance, a new sensation slithers down your spine. A lasciviousness that has you moaning in surprise.

“Fuck,” you grind out between clenched teeth.

“Gladly,” Yoongi chuckles, his red eyes taking on a lecherous gleam. “Let’s unleash your darkness on the realms, my queen.”

Between one breath and the next, your knees are splayed wide, and Yoongi has his face buried between your thighs. All it takes is one languid swipe of his long, broad tongue to have you cursing again. Caustic words fall from your mouth, laced with vitriol as it’s unfair how good it feels. It’s like every inch of contact between your body and his writes itself across what was once your soul.

“Mmmph,” you moan incoherently as the beginning of an orgasm lashes against your insides. Yoongi greedily sucks and licks, tongue laving over your throbbing clit before sliding between your contracting walls.

A tsunami of darkness crashes out from within you, blanketing the surrounding forest in shadow. Wisps of clarity ebb and flow, drifting along with the gloom until Yoongi grounds you with an exceptionally sharp pinch to one of your nipples.

“Almost there,” he announces gleefully, licking his lips before launching forward and forcing you onto your back.

Yoongi feels like fire against you, his body scorching everywhere it touches. You expect to feel the soft ash against your back but the only sensation that ebbs in is a cool aeration against the exposed skin between your shoulder blades.

Monstrous arms wrap around you as Yoongi slots his too-big mouth over yours, invading you with his slick, serpentine tongue. Your eyes flutter open, and you catch a glimpse of a pewter sky beyond the scraggy branches that are suddenly closer overhead.

You try to pull away from his devouring kiss to alert him to the jagged web of dry wood about to scrape his back, but he growls and renews his effort to shove his tongue as far into your mouth as possible. Snaps and cracks fill the air, and wood explodes around you.

Realization dawns as more should-be-fear-turned-lust pours through your body and expands beyond it, filling the sky around you with a murky darkness. The power of that emotion propels you further, sending you and Yoongi far above the landscape to suspend over the entirety of the Realm of Darkness, leaving a streamer of smoke-like essence in your wake.

Yoongi throws his head back, finally relenting from the kiss. His broad chest heaves against yours, and his red eyes are wild as they roll manically before landing on you. “How is this possible?” you pant, hands gripping the muscles of his shoulders tightly.

“Anything is possible here,” he whispers fervently before spinning you so fast your vision blurs. The horizon spans as far as you can see around you. You and Yoongi are hundreds of feet higher than even the tallest mountain peak. Everything is a monochrome grey, black, or in-between. A jagged line of mountains rear to your right while inky streams and rivers zig zag to your left. It’s a hideously beautiful display that contradicts all scenic views you’ve ever seen, yet is better than all of them combined.

“Oh, God,” you whimper when Yoongi forces your legs wide and slots his hips between them from behind. Shadows billow around you, charged with energy that crackles and sizzles, barely restrained from being unleashed to wreak untold havoc.

Thin fingers slide around to cup the front of your throat, giving a none too gentle squeeze. Yoongi snarls, “There is no God here. We are the gods!” His declaration is punctuated by the head of his cock prodding against your sopping cunt. This new body is already eager to pleasure Yoongi and receive pleasure in kind.

His hips kick forward, and you feel every delicious ridge and ripple along his thick shaft. It feels like he invades the pit of your stomach, filling you to the brink. It’s a rush of wicked delight, pure erotic rapture.

You moan again, this time invoking the only name left on your tongue, “Yoongi!”

“I’ve been looking forward to fucking you like this for five years,” he grunts, emphasizing the words with his hips pumping against your ass in brutal strokes. “Claiming you wholly, decorating the world with our combined shadows. Look how they writhe for you, waiting for you to command them. Let go.”

Your eyes roll from side to side, taking in the dark, undulating forms stretching wide around you. With each prick of pleasure Yoongi insights in your body, they branch and roil further out, creating the foundation for your own personal bedlam.

Like a bounty won at the end of a hunt, Yoongi ravishes your body with his. He’s brutal, unrelenting and wanton. The hand on your throat tugs with every slam of his hips, bowing your back and forcing you to peer out at the Kingdom begging for your rule. Darkness beseeches you, screaming for your glory and power as it pours out and blankets the sky.

Your world narrows to one pin point of coherency. Yoongi. He is nothing and everything all at once. He is the beginning and the end—fear, loathing, lust, and madness…through it all, he is infinite. And he’s yours.

With one final, shuddering breath you let go; welcoming the darkness once and for all.

“Yes.” The word, whispered from your parted lips, is sucked away with the maelstrom that detonates around and within you.

You barely hear the guttural, primal roar that emits from Yoongi as he buries himself to the hilt and fills you with his terrible darkness. You shatter into a multitude of shards, a glittering storm that dances through the ether, sparking and catching on the thin membrane that stretches between the realms. All it takes is one weak point, a small breach in the barrier, and everything falls apart.

It’s glorious, feeling yourself everywhere all at once. Your body is still fluttering around Yoongi, sucking and welcoming his release into your soul. But, your consciousness is spread wide, bleeding through the nexus of this realm and the one you once called home.

The mortal realm bows to your will. You can feel the beings of the Realm of Darkness funneling toward the broken gateways, pouring through to consume and conquer with the whisper of your glory on their tongues. Fear reigns supreme, consuming everything in its path as you expand your hold on the darkness.

“My Queen of Darkness,” the ephemeral coo caresses your ear, phantom lips brushing along your shadows. Yoongi’s darkness blends with yours, adding to the pulse that seeps to all corners of existence. “No longer will you fear, as you are fear itself…glorious, neverending fear.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2023-10-23 ColorMePurplex2

#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #bogeymanyoongie #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi imagines #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts yoongi #bts halloween #bts fanfic #bts horror #bts smut #bts angst #bts imagines #btscreaturescoven #micdropnet #bangtanwhq

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eoieopda · 10 months

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all of eoieopda's bts fics + drabbles are linked below the cut.

psa: minors who like, reblog, and/or comment on any of my content (regardless of whether it's NSFW or not) will be hard blocked immediately. my blog is strictly 18+, so please indicate your (adult) age in your bio and/or pinned post before engaging with me.

🗝 key

☁️ — fluff 🌊 — angst ⚡️ — smut ⭐️ — series, spin-off, or prequel/sequel 🎙️ — part of the 1k drabblepalooza milestone event 📓 — part of the 2k drabblepalooza milestone event 🌱 — w.i.p.

navigation. bts permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist. request rules. headcanons.

lacuna series masterlist

aphelion ⭐️ 🌊 ⚡️// prequel to lacuna, strangers to lovers to exes au // kim namjoon was as perfect when you lost him as he was when you found him. — listen to the playlist.

anniversary director's cut — 11/26/23.

lacuna ⭐️ 🌊 ⚡️ // sequel to aphelion, ex-boyfriend au // in his twenty-eight years, kim namjoon had made countless mistakes. most of them were insignificant and could be shoved easily enough into the back corner of his mind. the worst of them were all tied for first place, keeping him up at night. loving you, losing you, and now - picking up the phone. — listen to the playlist.

anniversary director's cut — 11/26/23.

redamancy ⭐️☁️⚡️// sequel to lacuna, exes to lovers au // Kim Namjoon wasn't known for making wise decisions. He acted first and, on rare occasions, he asked questions later. The path he'd taken so far was left broken behind him, but the light at the end of that tunnel sure looked a hell of a lot like you. — listen to the playlist.

anniversary director's cut — 11/26/23.

homecoming ⭐️⚡️ // lacuna au, established relationship au // your husband is out-of-town for two weeks. he may have to keep his hands to himself in the meantime, but that doesn’t mean he can’t tell you what to do with yours. — 1/8/24.

the one with namjoon and the necktie ⚡️📓 // corporate au, workplace rivals to ? au // in which namjoon learns who really has the upper hand. — request fill, 6/21/23

the one where namjoon is a fuck boy at a house party ⚡️ // one-night stand au // in which meeting namjoon for the third time's the charm. — request fill, 12/8/22

the one where namjoon is a "girl dad" ☁️ // established relationship au, dad!joon au // in which namjoon's fondness for crabs might be genetic. — request fill, 12/18/22

the one where namjoon takes you to nyc for christmas ☁️ // established relationship au // in which namjoon has encyclopedic knowledge of the tree at rockefeller plaza. — request fill, 1/16/23

"anywhere" by rita ora ☁️🎙️ // established relationship au //in which namjoon takes you around the world in 80 30 days. — request fill, 1/21/23

"tomorrow's ours" by lights follow ☁️🎙️ // established relationship au // in which namjoon can cure a bad day. — request fill, 1/7/23

the one with namjoon and the u-haul ☁️📓 // brother's best friend au // in which namjoon is buff, jungkook is late, & you're trapped in an elevator. — request fill, 4/12/23

the one with namjoon and the graveyard shift ☁️📓 // doctor au, friends to something au // in which there are two doctors working overnight in the emergency department and only one bed. — request fill, 6/25/23

meet me at the bar ☁️⚡️// law school au, best friends to lovers au // you're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

mmatb: epilogue ⭐️ ☁️ // epilogue drabble for meet me at the bar // as it turns out, there is life after the bar exam.

the one where you cook your friend-slash-roommate, seokjin, dinner ⭐️☁️ // roommates au, friends to lovers au // in which seokjin may have feelings & also food poisoning. — request fill, 12/4/22

the one where seokjin stops being your friend-slash-roommate ⭐️☁️ // roommates au, friends to lovers au // in which seokjin says he loves you & you spit on him. — request fill, 12/18/22

the one with kim seokjin and kim seokjin ☁️ // established relationship au // in which seokjin has a surprise & you can’t get mad, okay? — 12/18/22

the one where seokjin is jealous ☁️ // established relationship au // in which seokjin is a wee bit possessive & jimin is a lawless flirt. — request fill, 12/18/22

the one where your husband, seokjin, is domestic af ☁️ // established relationship au // in which seokjin takes "laundry day" very seriously. — request fill, 12/25/22

the one with seokjin and his fishing partner ☁️🎙 // established relationship au, dad!jin au // in which seokjin finally finds a kim who enjoys fishing. — request fill, 12/30/22

the one with seokjin, soju, and all the stars in the sky ☁️ // established relationship au // in which seokjin is ripped, zipped, zooted, and madly in love. — request fill, 2/26/23

"feel the same" by the millennial club ☁️🎙 // doctor au, friends to lovers au // in which seokjin has sudden, acute lovesickness. — request fill, 1/11/23

the one with seokjin and the marathon ☁️📓 // friends to lovers au // in which seokjin has a lot of thoughts about rupaul's drag race & about you. — request fill, 4/8/23

the one with seokjin and without complaints ☁️📓 // fake dating au, friends to lovers au // in which you’re bad with directions and keeping secrets. — request fill, 5/11/23

"seven" by taylor swift 🌊🎙 // friends to strangers au // in which you can't recall seokjin's name but you've still got love for him. — request fill, 12/31/22

darksided series masterlist

foresight ⭐️☁️⚡️// (flashback) prequel to darksided & blindsided, strangers to lovers au // it all started with a bad joke and a bottle of tanqueray. — listen to the playlist.

darksided ⭐️⚡️ // established relationship au // min yoongi adored you. he'd simply never hurt you — unless you asked. — listen to the playlist.

blindsided ⭐️⚡️ // sequel to darksided, established relationship au // after years of dating, you thought you had min yoongi all figured out — you didn't, and when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming. — listen to the playlist.

hindsight 🌱⭐️☁️⚡️// sequel to blindsided, established relationship au // tba

the one where yoongi loves to tease his shy gf ☁️ // established relationship au // in which yoongi loves making you blush in public. — request fill, 12/16/22

the one with yoongi, the cat, and the turf war ☁️ // established relationship au // in which yoongi is jealous of your cat. — request fill, 2/27/23

the one with yoongi, netflix, and zero chill ☁️ // fuck buddies to ? au // in which yoongi has possessions & hobbies… the fuck? — 3/10/23

the one with the doughboy and the greaseball ☁️📓 // childhood friends to ? au, hallmark-esque au // in which someone returns to their hometown, and there are family businesses to run, and stuff. — request fill, 6/14/23

"can't remember to forget you" by shakira ft. rihanna ⚡️🎙️ // exes to… nope, still exes au // in which yoongi is the “best man” & the worst mistake. — request fill, 1/15/23

the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas 🌊📓 // childhood friends to lovers au // in which the runaway bride runs straight to yoongi. — request fill, 4/8/23

interlude: sunrise ⭐️☁️ // darksided au, established relationship au // two years after your first night with min yoongi, you wake up next to him in a parisian hotel.

interlude: sundown ⭐️⚡️// darksided au, established relationship au // as it turns out, your boyfriend can take as much as he gives.

the one where yoongi takes care of you ⭐️☁️ // darksided au, established relationship au // in which you are sick, but yoongi is down bad. — request fill, 11/30/23

problem ⭐️ // darksided au, established relationship au, halloween special // yoongi’s got a problem, and she’s dressed like elvira hancock.

dadchwita vol. i ⭐️☁️ // darksided au, established relationship au // in which you & yoongi have three kids but no sleep. — request fill, 12/23/22

dadchwita vol. ii ⭐️☁️ // darksided au, established relationship au // in which yoongi learns to braid your daughter’s hair. — request fill, 1/2/23

“what sarah said” by death cab for cutie ⭐️🌊🎙️ // darksided au, established relationship au // in which yoongi keeps his vow. — request fill, 12/26/22

liar, liar ⚡️// fwb au // hoseok suspects that you’re “phoning it in” while sexting and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t call your bluff.

the one with hoseok and the teapots (tw: miscarriage implied) 🌊 // hurt/comfort, established relationship au // in which hoseok is fucking sorry, too. — request fill, 3/3/23

the one where hobi loves you - not despite, but regardless (tw: depression) 🌊 // hurt/comfort, established relationship au // in which "the chair" is no match for hoseok. — request fill, 12/6/22

the one where hoseok plays with fire 🌊⚡️📓 // star-crossed lovers au, rival gangs au // in which you are the secret that hoseok would die to keep. — request fill, 4/14/23

"only for a moment" by lola marsh 🌊🎙️ // friends with benefits au, unrequited love au // in which hoseok stays the night but not the morning. — request fill, 1/28/23

"we'll never have sex" by leith ross ☁️🎙️ // newly-established relationship au // in which hoseok kisses you just to kiss you, not to take you home. — request fill, 12/28/22

the one where hoseok comes home ☁️ // established relationship au, october 2024 au // in which love looks different every day, but hoseok never changes. — 4/17/23

the one with hoseok and the magic fingers ☁️📓 // co-workers to ? au // in which there is only one (1) bed. — request fill, 5/24/33

the one with hoseok and the palm reader ☁️📓 // university au, meet cute / strangers to ? au // in which hoseok’s fate line suggests that he’s unlucky, but your presence at this house party suggests otherwise. — request fill, 6/23/23

menace ⭐️ 🌊⚡️// fuck buddies who hate each other au, brother’s best friend au, completed // just because you hate him doesn’t mean you can’t fuck him.

"NFWMB" by hozier ⚡️🎙️ // established relationship au // in which jimin wants to be held by you, felled by you... — request fill, 12/8/22

the one with jimin and all that turbulence⚡️ // one-night flight stand au // in which jimin founds the metric equivalent of the mile high club. — request fill, 3/18/23

the one with the hall pass ⚡️ // established relationship au, threesome // in which you and your boyfriend, taehyung, both want to fuck his best friend. — request fill, 8/13/23

the one with the hall pass pt. ii ⭐️⚡️ // established relationship au, threesome // in which jimin just really loves his friends, okay? — request fill, 11/24/23

the one with jimin and the synonyms ☁️📓 // established relationship au // in which jimin is the king of mental health days. — request fill, 4/28/23

the one where you drunk dial jimin with approx. 5-7 feelings ☁️ // friends to lovers au, idiots in love au // in which jimin commits 43% of the seven deadly sins in one fell swoop. — request fill, 12/23/22

the one with jimin and the boomerang ☁️ // friends to lovers au // in which jimin ponders death, taxes, and other inevitable things. — request fill, 3/6/23

the one with the clownfish and the anemone ☁️📓 // fuck buddies to friends to lovers au // in which your relationship with jimin goes backwards. — request fill, 6/24/23

the one where your brother, jimin, believes you (tw: implied sexual assault) 🌊 // hurt/comfort, siblings au // in which jimin is there to listen if & when you want to talk. — request fill, 12/17/22

reckless serenade ⭐️⚡️ // sequel to “the bad thing” drabble, infidelity au // your husband hasn’t looked at you in months, but his co-worker, kim taehyung, can’t keep his eyes off you.

"the bad thing" by arctic monkeys ⭐️⚡️🎙️ // infidelity au // in which taehyung takes a big swing and your wedding ring. — request fill, 1/5/23

the one with the hall pass ⚡️ // established relationship au, threesome // in which you and your boyfriend, taehyung, both want to fuck his best friend. — request fill, 8/13/23

the one with the hall pass pt. ii ⭐️⚡️ // established relationship au, threesome // in which jimin just really loves his friends, okay? — request fill, 11/24/23

the one where taehyung buys you mandu and tampons during your period ☁️ // hurt/comfort, established relationship au // in which taehyung is not only a good boy, but the best boy. — request fill, 12/23/22

the one where taehyung skips a date to build your ikea furniture ☁️ // childhood friends to lovers au // in which taehyung sacrifices his friday night to the hasvik. — request fill, 1/25/23

the one with taehyung and the rook 🌊📓 // enemies to lovers au, chaebol au // in which taehyung plays the long game. — request fill, 5/4/23

the one with taehyung’s indecent proposal 📓☁️ ⚡️// fake relationship au, fuck buddies to ? au // in which taehyung would rather die than show up single to a class reunion. — request fill, 6/12/23

stay ☁️ ⚡️ // best friends to lovers au // “jungkook." his name was merely a sigh flying out of your lungs and through your parted lips. “if we do this — if we go down this road — how do we go back?” — listen to the playlist.

title tbd 🌱🌊⚡️ // enemies to lovers au, post-nuclear apocalypse au (insp. by fallout series), raider!jk // tba

the one with jungkook, the weekender, and the impossibilities 🌊 // established relationship au // in which jungkook is bad at prioritizing & somehow even worse with words. — request fill, 3/18/23

the one with jungkook and the sharpshooter 🌊 📓 // enemies to lovers au, hurt/comfort, mafia au // in which you shoot first and plan later. — request fill, 4/22/23

the one where jungkook has to sleep on the couch 🌊 // established relationship au // in which jungkook finds a loophole in the most jungkook way possible. — request fill, 12/16/22

the one where jungkook thinks you’re perfect (tw: body image issues) ⭐️🌊 // hurt/comfort, established relationship au // in which jungkook is down bad. — request fill, 12/7/22

the one where he thinks you’re perfect (jjk pov) ⭐️🌊 // hurt/comfort, established relationship au // in which jungkook is down incurably bad. — request fill, 12/27/22

"hey old friend" by dearly somber 🌊🎙️ // best friends to strangers au, missed connection au // in which the hotline, to your knowledge, did not bling. — request fill, 1/27/23

the one where jungkook gives you a tattoo ☁️ // strangers to ? au // in which jungkook thinks ghosts should mind their own damn business. — request fill, 2/26/23

the one with jungkook and terpsichore ☁️ // established relationship au // in which jungkook watches you pole dance & goes mildly-to-moderately feral. — request fill, 3/15/23

the one who bites and the one who doesn’t ☁️ // newly-established relationship au // in which you face the final boss: jeon bam. — request fill, 3/13/23

the one with jungkook, his son, and the lightbulb ☁️ // established relationship au, dad!kook au // in which jungkook wants to be the very best (dad), like no one ever was. — request fill, 1/16/23

the one where jungkook is the world's clingiest/softest bf ☁️ // established relationship au // in which jungkook fashions himself into a weighted blanket. — request fill, 12/3/22

"more than you know" by axewell /\ ingrosso ☁️ // established relationship au // in which jungk— is that a boombox? in the year of our lord, 2023? seriously? — request fill, 1/28/23

the one where jungkook isn’t dreaming ⭐️ ☁️ // stay au, friends to lovers au, morning after au // in which jungkook has pinched himself, like, four (4) times already. — request fill, 12/30/22

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts series #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #bts drabble #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jade writes #jade's masterlist #jade's drabbles #jade's requests

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tyonfs · 2 years

Text

high-waisted shorts

❝ i noticed you staring at my ass earlier, by the way. do you want me to get my shorts out of the way so you can get a better look? ❞

PAIRING ▸ huang renjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, strangers to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, one night stand trope, fingering, palming, oral (fem. receiving), more oral (m. receiving), choking, raw sex (pls use protection), in this society we make important decisions with rock paper scissors, copious amounts of anime references, ft. jaemin, hyuck, and jeno tormenting poor renjun

SUMMARY ▸ huang renjun might be the least committed to all this “bitch hunting” bullshit, and he doesn’t want to stoop to the level of stupidity his friends are at. that’s why he’s pissed when you’re strutting around in those high waisted shorts wherever you go, making renjun lose all sense of reason.

PLAYLIST ▸ like by bts • cravin by danileigh, g-eazy • 23 by chase atlantic • sparkle by radwimps

WORD COUNT ▸ 7,850 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ first installment of the bitch hunters series !! wrote this while i was angry bc my discord got hacked and i was furiously typing LOL but hope u enjoy ♡

THE FIRST TIME HUANG RENJUN LAID EYES ON YOU, HE FELT LIKE A SINNER.

He wasn’t religious by any means, but some force in the universe had to be frowning down on Renjun for the way he was staring at your ass. His housemate, Donghyuck, had thrown a party at their house for the sole purpose of meeting new girls, and Renjun found this whole thing absolutely ridiculous. His roommates were dead-set on finding a girlfriend this year, and they had taken it to the extent of creating a contract to detail the rules of their “bitch hunting.”

On the other hand, Renjun thought he could find love naturally, so he wasn’t too keen on indulging himself tonight.

However, looking at the way your shorts were riding up whenever you jutted out your hip, Renjun felt like he could let go for a night.

It had been ages since he hooked up with someone. The last time was probably during his second year of college. For his third year, he was committed to just passing his classes and trying to figure out what the fuck he was going to do with his life. Now that Renjun was in the final stretch, he supposed he could take it easy on himself and get his dick wet.

“You’re drooling.” Renjun looked over to fellow bitch hunter Na Jaemin smirking at him, handing him a red solo cup with a shot of tequila (or, more like a shot and a half because Jaemin sucked at measuring drinks). His best friend slash housemate added, “Go talk to her.”

“What?” Renjun asked, startled. “No, no, I’m not trying to hook up with someone.”

“I said talk,” Jaemin reminded. “You’re the one who said hook up.”

Renjun balked. He stared at his triumphant-looking friend for a moment before downing the tequila in his cup. Warmth spread to his chest in seconds, and he was starting to feel the self-control in his brain fog over. Renjun liked the feeling of being drunk; it allowed him to stop caring about stupid things, like talking to pretty girls in high-waisted shorts.

“You know what,” he grumbled, “fine.”

But, sometimes, it also made him do stupid things, like walking over to talk to pretty girls in high-waisted shorts.

“Hey,” Renjun greeted when he approached you. You were standing alone at the kitchen counter for a while, eyeing all the drinks spread out. “Are you liking the party?”

You turned to him and shrugged. “I guess. My roommate brought me here, but I don’t know anyone except her, so it’s kinda awkward.”

“Who’s your roommate?”

You looked over your shoulder and pointed to a girl with short hair. “Minjeong. She knows Jeno, I think.”

Renjun snorted. He recalled Jeno and Minjeong having a thing for a brief period. Since the walls were rather thin and Jeno wasn’t exactly quiet, he vividly remembered the filthy words he heard from his housemate’s room. Renjun would routinely kick the wall to shut Jeno up. In fact, he was doing Minjeong a service by rescuing her from a man who played League of Legends.

But Renjun didn’t know Minjeong had a roommate—and a hot one at that. He regretted not encouraging Jeno’s hookup to come to more of their parties.

“Well, now you know me,” Renjun said and held his hand out for you to shake. “I’m Huang Renjun.”

You giggled and took his hand. Yours was so much smaller than his. Maybe Renjun was thinking too much about how nicely his hand fit with yours. Maybe he was taking too long to shake your hand.

He realized this once you started talking and he was still clutching on.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced, and the little glint in your eyes made Renjun wonder if you were charmed. That was a plus for him; Renjun wasn’t terrible with girls, but he never made such strong first impressions. “What brings you here, then?”

“I live here, actually,” Renjun answered with a grin. He noticed you glancing at his cup, so he set it down to pour a shot for you in another cup. “You’re at my party, and I have no choice but to socialize. My friends would probably drag me out of my room if I tried to ditch.” He held out the cup to you, and then paused. “You’re not a lightweight, are you?”

“Why would it matter if I’m a lightweight?” you asked with a coy smile, taking the cup in your hand.

Renjun shrugged. Maybe it was the liquid confidence spurring him to act bolder, but he could hardly believe the words that came out of his mouth next.

“Maybe I wanted to give you a room tour.”

To his surprise, you laughed, delighted. “A room tour?” you asked. “Sure, why not?” You set your cup down and grinned at him. “Also, I can handle my liquor just fine.”

Renjun lifted his brows, amused. He slid his hand into yours and led you to the staircase, a small smile playing on his lips. He hadn’t expected you to agree so easily, but perhaps you both were experiencing a surge of adrenaline that made you want to do anything and everything.

If Renjun was Jeno or Donghyuck, he would’ve had to ask you to wait outside for a minute. Thankfully, he didn’t live like a slob and wasn’t ashamed of his living conditions. He kept things neat and tidy, and the only thing he probably had to worry about was his lotion and tissue box being right next to each other.

He hoped you wouldn’t pick up on that detail, though.

“Nice room,” you complimented when he opened the door. You looked around curiously before walking in, and Renjun headed in after you. “Do you normally bring girls up here like this?”

“Only the cute ones,” Renjun said, leaning against his door frame. “Do you normally follow guys into their rooms like this?”

You shot back a knowing smirk. “Only the cute ones,” you echoed, and Renjun wondered if he had died and gone to heaven.

He wasn’t on his A-game right now. It had been years since Renjun got laid, and the only reason he was functioning in front of you was because the tequila made him a smidge less over-analytical about everything he said.

“I noticed you staring at my ass earlier, by the way,” you added shyly, even though nothing about you seemed the least bit shy. Renjun wished the ground would swallow him whole. Before he went on a tangent about how he respected women and their bodies and started to apologize profusely for making you uncomfortable, you walked right up to him and continued, “Do you want me to get my shorts out of the way so you can get a better look?”

Clearly the universe had monumental plans for his dick tonight.

Renjun swallowed thickly and shut the door with one hand immediately. The booming music from downstairs grew more muffled, and he returned his attention to you once he locked it.

He was presented with the opportunity of a lifetime, so he let his hormones take over and cupped your sex. Through your shorts.

Granted, the material was rather thick, but Renjun could feel your core pulsate through the fabric, and it drove him crazy.

“Fuck,” he growled when you started grinding your hips against his palm. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“More,” you begged, desperately rocking your hips to get as much friction as possible. Renjun smirked at how you clung onto him. “Want more.”

“Yeah, ‘course you do,” he mumbled, adding more pressure to his slow, torturous hand motions. Renjun walked you back so that the back of your knees were hitting the bed. “Can I take off your clothes?” You nodded in response but Renjun just grabbed your chin with his free hand and ordered, “Use your words, Y/N.”

You giggled a little, off-beat. “Go ahead,” you responded, looking at Renjun with newfound excitement.

Renjun’s lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses as he undid the front of your shorts. It felt like ages since he had done something like this, but it felt so natural for Renjun to rub your dripping slit with two fingers. Slow, torturous motions of his fingers, and then you were whimpering and squirming under him, begging for him to put his fingers inside of you.

“Patience.” Renjun chuckled, tugging your shorts down until they were at your ankles. You arched your hips to help him take off your underwear along with it. The sight of your bare cunt made Renjun a weak man. “Holy fuck.”

His fingers returned to rub your slit, and when you were drenching Renjun’s fingers with your arousal, he decided it was high time for him to give you what you wanted. He made direct eye contact with you as he slid his fingers inside of you, and the way your breath hitched and face contorted made Renjun nearly lose it.

He hadn’t even put his fingers all the way in and your walls were clenching around him. Renjun fought down the groan that dared to slip—simply from how tight you were around his digits.

“Jesus,” he grunted out, “you’re gonna feel so good around me.”

“You’re gonna give it to me?” you asked in a breath, and your tone was bordering on hopefulness and surprise.

“Yeah, of course.” Renjun’s eyes darkened when he coupled his fingering by planting his thumb on your clit, relishing the broken moan that escaped your lips. He had to use his free hand to manhandle your hips firmly to the mattress.

“S-sorry,” you apologized, and Renjun could tell you were trying your best to stop yourself from bucking your hips. He decided there was a simpler method to go about this, so he pulled his fingers away and scooted back. You frowned and looked over at him before whining, “Why’d you st—oh.”

Renjun held your hips down so that he could lick a long stripe between your folds, flattening his tongue once he got to your clit. He smirked at your reaction, proceeding to eat you out like a starved man. Renjun relished each moan and whimper that fell from your lips, barely audible over the muffled, booming music from downstairs. He was sure their neighbors would call for a complaint sooner or later, but nothing could pull Renjun from the intoxicating taste of you.

His motions must have been hitting the right places because you were squirming so much that Renjun had to grip your thighs tighter to remind you to stay still. He returned one hand to rubbing your clit in a steady motion as he ate you out, and he was pleased with how reactive you were.

A tingling flush spread across Renjun’s cheeks when your back arched against his bed, and he sucked on your ball of nerves a little harsher to coax you into your orgasm.

Then, he changed his mind.

You gasped when he pulled back. “I was so close!”

Renjun nearly laughed at how offended you looked before explaining, “I wanna make you cum on my cock instead.”

“Your cock?”

Renjun hummed. He wasn’t trying to edge you, but while he was going down on you, bringing you closer and closer to your release, he realized he wanted to see the look in your eyes when he brought you to your orgasm. He wanted to see how you fell apart because of him.

Exasperated, you hurried to sit up and maneuvered to get over Renjun, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Renjun didn’t intend to imply that he wanted you to ride him, but he was liking this turn of events more and more.

“Wow,” he got out in a breath, hands ghosting your body with an awestruck look on his face. “You’re gorgeous.”

Your reply, though, was blunt. “I want you to go raw.”

Renjun blinked at you for a second. At first, he was indifferent about it and just supposed you had cut out the extra step of getting a condom from his nightstand and sliding it on. Then, he realized how unbelievable this situation was—unbelievable and incredibly sexy.

“Are you sure?” he asked, although he was beaming at your words. “I mean, we just met.”

“As long as you don’t give me an STD, I’m down.” You drew Renjun closer and scooted up higher on his lap. “Plus, Plan B is only six dollars at the health center.”

“I’ll Venmo you three,” Renjun replied, dazed as you tugged his pants down and palmed his bulge. He stifled a groan, gripping your waist tighter. “Y/N—fuck.”

You had already rid of Renjun’s briefs, tracing the underside of his head once his cock sprang free. He found it awful how turned on he was by the way you eyed his size, so Renjun did the one thing that kept clouding his head and he pulled you into a fervent kiss, drinking the pink lemonade smirnoff right off your tongue.

Dizzying. Hazy. Intoxicating.

There was so much shuffling as Renjun kicked off his pants and underwear properly, adjusting his position so that you could ride him properly, but the both of you couldn’t pull away from each other’s lips.

“God,” Renjun growled out against your lips when you raised your hips to lower yourself onto his throbbing cock. He drank in the way your face contorted and your thighs twitched as you tried to take him in. After much easing and filthy words that Renjun whispered against your skin, you finally took him fully. “Good girl,” he praised, smirking at your whimper that followed his words.

He broke from the kiss to help you. Renjun held your hips firmly, guiding your movements so that you could ride him at a steady pace. He grunted at the way your walls clenched around him, and he was already so, so sensitive.

“You’re h-huge,” you stuttered, screwing your eyes shut when Renjun’s hand moved up your body, caressing each curve and dip. “Oh my god.”

His hand moved up to grope your tits through your shirt, and before he tried to slip his hands under your shirt, he slid his hand further up to choke you instead. Renjun was delighted at how you sped up when he pressed lightly against the sides of your neck.

You placed your hand over his, much like someone admiring a diamond necklace would. Your back arched as you continued bouncing on his cock, your head thrown back with moans trapped in your throat. Renjun was a little disappointed that he couldn’t freely let you be loud, but watching you hold it in might have been even better.

Renjun’s breathing was ragged when he drew you close yet again, and though you looked fucked-out, you seemed to understand right away that all he wanted was to taste your lips again. Renjun kissed you with hunger, driving his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours in a desperate union.

“C-close,” you mumbled between kisses, and Renjun only smirked and deepened the kiss. Some twisted part of him wanted to keep you quiet against his lips as you came undone.

He fucked up into you as your motions became less coordinated and sloppy. Renjun’s heartbeat was drumming in his ear when he witnessed you fall into your orgasm, your walls clenching and unclenching around his cock so fast that he came into you right after. His grip on your neck tightened ever-so-slightly when you dared to moan louder, yet it only seemed to turn you on even more.

He pulled back and leaned against the headboard, absolutely spent. Renjun helped you off his cock, groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Renjun said, wondering if you’d mind if he played with your clit for a while. He ended up doing so, and it was strangely domestic by how casual you were about it.

“Can I sleep over?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes, and god, Renjun couldn’t refuse you when you were giving him those eyes.

“Need a shirt?” he offered.

“Yes, please.”

When Renjun woke up the next morning, you were gone, as expected. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, trying to figure out where the fuck his shirt was. Eventually, he gave up on his search and threw on a sweater that was strewn over the head of his chair.

There was an acrylic nail laying on the pillow next to Renjun. He snorted at the sight. Cinderella left her glass slipper behind for the prince; you left your acrylic nail.

He chucked it in the trash, deciding that he would rather get rid of the nail instead of making you feel embarrassed for letting it get caught on the fabric. Maybe he was a little upset that you hadn’t even left a note behind, but it wasn’t like Renjun was expecting to meet the one at a house party. Hell, he wasn’t even as dedicated to his housemates’ “bitch hunting” antics as they were.

He trudged downstairs to make himself a bowl of cereal. Renjun forgot how tiring sex was, though the post-orgasm haze was always nice to bask in. Coupled with drinking last night, though, he craved something to scarf down so that he could regain a sense of his bearings.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Donghyuck greeted. He was sipping a cup of coffee next to Jeno in the kitchen. “Jaemin told us that you were getting some last night.”

Renjun grimaced. He recalled how he could never keep his hookups private because someone would snitch on him to the rest of his housemates. This invasiveness was something he never got used to.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered vaguely. “I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”

“Is she not cuffing material?” Jeno asked. “C’mon, you can’t be fucking around when we’re supposed to be getting girlfriends.”

Rich coming from the guy who screwed your roommate.

Renjun grabbed his Frosted Flakes from the shelf and opened the other cupboard to get a bowl. He promptly ignored Jeno so that he wouldn’t let some crucial information about your identity slip. He would’ve rather kept you on the down-low, so that his housemates wouldn’t mess with the both of you.

The last time Renjun had a crush on a girl, it resulted in both him and Kim Yerim being incessantly teased. Jaemin did everything in his power to make sure Yerim’s bottle landed on Renjun when they played Spin the Bottle at a party in freshman year. He even to the extent of shoving Jeno out of the way so that the bottle was closer to Renjun.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck started, “Y/N seems like girlfriend-material to me.”

Well, that secret lasted for all but five seconds.

The shock must have shown on his face because Jeno burst out laughing immediately, Donghyuck following suit and slapping Jeno’s arm playfully. Renjun shook his head and returned to pouring his milk and cereal in the bowl, trying to ignore how obnoxious his friends were.

Keyword: trying.

“Ow!” Jeno winced when Renjun jabbed his side.

“Dude, for real, though,” Donghyuck started, “we’ll help you out if you really like her.”

“Don’t make it such a big deal.” Renjun tried to wave it off with a dismissive hand gesture, and his friends shrugged in response. “I don’t even know her that well.”

“You don’t want to get to know her?”

Did Renjun want to know more about you? Well, he was probably addicted to the taste of your lips and the way you looked underneath him, but he hadn’t had too many conversations with you to gauge whether he was interested in more. However, the way you looked in those high-waisted shorts did make him a touch curious about seeing you again.

“Nah,” Renjun lied coolly. “Forget it.”

Renjun couldn’t get you out of his fucking head.

Well, it was pretty hard to do so when he discovered you sat right in front of him in his aerospace thermodynamics class.

In those damn high-waisted shorts.

It was another pair this time—white with the hem fringed. Renjun couldn’t even focus on the lecture about the Carnot Cycle when he kept getting vivid flashbacks to the previous night. Your lips dragging across his skin. His hands traveling up and down your body. Your nails digging into his back.

“... and those will be your pairings for the final project. Please come see me if you have any further questions, otherwise refer to the module,” Renjun’s professor finished.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in to look up at the screen. Renjun scanned the document the professor had pulled up with a list of names, running down until he saw his name right next to yours.

This had to be a joke. It was something straight out of a movie. Some shitty rom-com where the two main characters slowly fell into a pure relationship through a forced partnership, but there was nothing that was pure between you and Renjun after what had happened last night.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Renjun muttered under his breath, nearly gasping when you whipped your head around to look at him questionably. “Oh. Hey.” He raised a brow before stupidly asking, “You come here often?”

“I’m a student here, so yeah,” you answered.

Figured.

You continued, “We’re partners.”

“We are,” Renjun confirmed, “so we’re gonna be working together for a while.”

A slow grin spread across your face, making Renjun swallow thickly. Your eyes shone with a mischievous glint, and your gaze dropped a little before drifting back up to look Renjun in the eye.

“I look forward to working with you, partner.”

“Yeah.” Renjun coughed a little. “Me too… partner.”

The first time you and Renjun met up to “work together” after exchanging numbers was exactly a week later. It wasn’t very productive, to say the least. You offered to start it at your place, and Renjun realized this was probably a bad idea, but it had to be 0.1% better than working at his house, so he obliged.

He realized that he had no idea what the project was even on until he was sitting in your living room, looking over your shoulder to see the project guidelines pulled up on your laptop.

“Which one of these do you wanna do?” you asked. “My concentration is aeronautics so I’m leaning toward the cooling method design one.”

“I’m astronautics.” Renjun snorted. “I like the jet propulsion one.”

Renjun and you stared at each other for a minute. He wasn’t sure how to diffuse this tension; he could kiss you, but the fire in your eyes made it clear that this was competitive tension, not sexual tension. Then, you held out your hand in front of you, balling it into a fist and placing it in the palm of your other hand.

“Let’s rock, paper, scissors this,” you decided.

Renjun raised a brow. “You’re using rock, paper, scissors to decide the outcome of our final grade in a major class?” he asked, and when you nodded, he shrugged. “Alright, let’s do it.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

1 Renjun, 0 Y/N.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

2 Renjun, 0 Y/N.

Your face fell, and Renjun found it cute how distraught you were at the realization that you were losing at your own game. You were relentless, though, and held out your fist again.

“Best out of three,” you said.

“Even if it’s best out of three, I still win,” Renjun argued. “I literally won it twice.”

“I’ll suck you off if we can do the cooling method design.”

Renjun nearly choked on his own spit, coughing for a moment before he calmed down and tried to take your offer seriously. There was something ethically wrong about all of this, but only a fool would turn down a blowjob. At least that was what Renjun tried to convince himself of.

That was how the first work session went to shit.

Renjun was sitting on the edge of his bed, pants sagging at his ankles and head thrown back as you went down on him. He curled his fist in your hair, guiding your movements and admiring the way tears streamed down your cheeks as you deepthroated him.

He grunted, breath caught in his throat for a moment when your tongue ran along the vein on his cock perfectly, and without warning, Renjun was cumming down your throat.

You were panting when you finally pulled yourself off Renjun, having the nerve to tease his sore and sensitive head while your lips were wrapped around it. He tried to glare down at you, but he was too spent to do anything but catch his breath, leaning back on his hands.

“So…” You smirked devilishly. “Cooling method design, right?”

Renjun scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, though he knew that one more bat of your lashes and he’d end up complying. Whatever spell you had him under, Huang Renjun knew he was royally screwed around you.

Renjun was puzzled.

You two had been working on the group project for a month and a half now, regularly going to each other’s apartments, but absolutely nothing was happening. By nothing, Renjun meant that you seemed to tame whatever aggressive sexual libido you had when you first met him. Now, Renjun was leaving your house bi-weekly with blue balls. It was torture.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy your company. It was nice having someone to work with that wasn’t only productive but engaged in quality conversations. Sometimes, you went on long rants about your roommate problems, and at this point, Renjun was half-convinced that he knew more about Minjeong than Jeno did.

Later, when Renjun confided in Jaemin about it (why he chose to confide in Jaemin was beyond him, but at least the guy was useful for something), his roommate replied, “You’re in the talking stage, dude.”

What the hell was a talking stage? Renjun wanted immediate obsession.

“Renjun’s getting cuffed?” Donghyuck questioned. Before Renjun could respond, too dazed from Jaemin’s response, Donghyuck’s lips curled into a smirk. “Attaboy.”

“She got Renjun to watch anime with her.” Jaemin scoffed. “Can you believe it?”

“Which one?” Jeno chimed in. A pout settled on his roommate’s face. “You don’t even watch anime with me, Renjun.”

“I didn’t even agree yet!” Renjun defended, pulling out his phone with the texts from you as proof. “See? She just sent me a list of her recommendations. I didn’t even decide if I was gonna watch one of them yet.”

“Some of the summaries she wrote are concerning,” Jaemin said, looking over his friend’s shoulder to see the list. “Would you watch ‘girl gets in a car crash while she’s trying to save a loser god and her soul leaves her body sometimes to chill with the other gods’ or ‘gay volleyball players that are actually not gay and just have a wholesome friendship and play volleyball a lot’?”

“My personal favorite is ‘bad bitches gamble in high school,’” Donghyuck added. “Sounds heartwarming.”

“Don’t watch that one,” Jeno cut in with a serious tone, which was a refreshing change from the torment that Jaemin and Donghyuck were inflicting upon Renjun. “The two that Jaemin suggested are way better.”

Jaemin leaned in to whisper to Renjun and Donghyuck, “Jeno takes this stuff seriously. He even has a whole anime tier list.”

Unbeknownst to his housemates, Renjun had already done his extensive research on the shows already. He had looked up every summary and review for each show, and he already mentally selected the anime he wanted to start with. Renjun liked to reciprocate with these sorts of gestures; if someone was going to put in the effort for him, he wanted to show the same energy back.

So, the minute you sent Renjun that extensive text, he got right to researching the suitable anime to watch. He weighed all the pros and cons before coming to a conclusion. It was the only right thing to do after you put so much work into sending him that text.

(In reality, you probably only spent a few minutes typing it all out.)

“I didn’t choose either of those,” Renjun announced. “I’m going with Your Name.”

“My name?” Donghyuck asked stupidly, pointing at himself. “There’s an anime called Hyuck?”

“Yeah, it’s called the Goofy Movie,” Jaemin retorted.

“This is why you’re a piece of shit, Jaemin.”

“No, Your Name,” Renjun corrected. “It’s an anime movie, dumbass.”

“Is that on your tier list, Jeno?” Jaemin asked.

“Yeah…” Jeno trailed off, rubbing his chin as he tried to remember where he placed it. His eyes shone when it clicked in his head. “It’s in the ‘astronomically down bad’ tier.”

Well, fuck.

Office Hours for aerospace thermodynamics was held on Fridays at eight in the morning, and Renjun found that to be an abomination.

For one, he despised waking up at such an ungodly hour because every hour Renjun had to cut out of his beauty sleep meant a higher risk of breaking out. While it was such an easy task in high school, the few extra years on Renjun now seemed to be a burden on his body. He could barely drag himself out of bed without at least ten alarms that went off five minutes apart.

Secondly, the walk to campus was unbearable. It was too close for Renjun to take his car, but it felt like miles when he went by foot. He was always a sweltering mess by the time he got on campus grounds, speed walking to get into the first air conditioned building he could see.

But, now, Renjun had something to look forward to: you.

“You’re late!” you scolded in a whisper. Renjun was huffing when he approached you in front of the door to their professor’s office. He bit back a smile at how cute your fake-angry face was. “Did you run here or something? You’re all sweaty.”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “You sure know a lot about me being sweaty, huh?” This got a laugh out of you—one that Renjun had to sneak a look at through the corner of his eye, beaming at how your eyes lit up at his joke. He asked, “Is he talking to another student?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be with us in ten,” you replied. “I brought my laptop so we can show him all the slides we made.”

“Perfect. That’s plenty of time,” Renjun said. Before you could ask what he meant, he pinched your inner thigh—a gesture that felt more endearing than sexual—and he started walking ahead of you. “Follow me.”

While you were tailing behind, hounding Renjun with questions, he was scanning the windows down the hall to see which classroom was completely empty. When he finally found one void of students and teachers, he opened it and grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside with him. Your questions ceased once you caught onto what he was suggesting.

“Cute shorts,” Renjun commented.

“You couldn’t take it anymore, huh?” You ran your nicely-manicured fingernails down Renjun’s chest, biting back a smile as he closed the door behind the two of you. “I know you’d cave sooner or later.”

Renjun’s mind went completely blank, like the static when tuning to a different radio station. Then, it dawned on him.

“You planned this.”

“Not completely,” you defended. “I knew you had a thing for me in these kinds of shorts, so I wanted to see how long I could wear them for until you finally exploded.”

“Oh my god,” Renjun breathed out. He cornered you against the wall, looking down at you in awe. He nearly popped a boner with the way you looked up at him with that coy smile. “You little devil.”

Renjun turned you around with no proper warning, pressing up against your back while your front was against the wall. You turned your head to the side as you gasped, trying to crane your neck to look back at him, but to no avail. Renjun reached down the front of your shorts and started rubbing you through your underwear—agonizingly slow.

His smile was a little unhinged as he palmed you, relishing the way you crooned and moaned because of his hand movements. Renjun loved the way you were arching your back against him, each stutter of your hips against his crotch reminding him of how he ached for you.

For some reason, Renjun could only think about ripping your clothes off and having his way with you. If he could, he would completely ignore Office Hours, but you seemed too adamant on attending. Something about getting those stupid slides approved. (Renjun could honestly care less with his 95% in the class, but he wasn’t going to gloat.) So, you rushed him through the foreplay, begging him to not make you two late for your meeting.

“Good girl,” he simpered when he had one of your legs wrapped around his hips, easing his cock into your walls as slowly as he could, all the while rubbing your clit with his thumb. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You whimpered. “I haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Seriously? Ever since we hooked up?”

When you nodded, Renjun felt like all the blood from his head rushed to his cock. He was a little lightheaded, but he was incredibly horny. He waited for you to adjust properly, and then Renjun settled for a ruthless pace, fucking into you so abruptly that your arms slung around his neck immediately.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips as he thrusted. You returned it immediately, eyes fluttering shut and melting into him. It was sweet and somewhat out-of-place given the magnitude of what you two were currently doing.

The feeling of your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair and your broken croons against his lips was absolutely divine. Something about being so close to you coupled with the risk of being caught made Renjun feel so connected to you on levels he hadn’t felt before. He, for one, would never do something like this for someone who he was just hooking up with.

He was a man of reward, not risk. You, however, made him consider both.

“Oh! Right there!” you yelped one he hit that one perfect spot. You tried to quiet down your cries, but it was clearly not working, so Renjun did you a favor and clamped a hand over your mouth as he fucked you against the wall.

“Come on, love,” he taunted, “you better cum fast before we miss that meeting. You don’t wanna be caught, do you?”

Your eyes were glossy with tears rimming the waterline. Renjun nearly got lost in them, breath hitching when tears started rolling down your cheeks and your hips continued bucking up against his, begging for more contact. That was when Renjun realized you were on the edge, and he figured it out too late because one final thrust had you clenching around him and letting out muffled moans against his palm.

You spoke against his hand, almost inaudible because of how muffled your voice was.

“What was that?” Renjun asked, removing his hand.

“Don’t cum,” you clarified, hazy as Renjun kept thrusting into you like a well-oiled machine.

“Are you denying my orgasm? That’s kinda hot.”

“D-don’t make a mess,” you said, reaching up to grab his cheek. “We still have that meeting.”

“Alright, alright,” Renjun said softly, slowing his thrusts until he pulled out of you and tucked his cock away. He was still aching and hard as a rock, so he was going to have to take a quick bathroom break and have you stall the professor for time. “This isn’t just gonna be a monthly thing, right?”

“Bi-monthly?” you joked. Renjun snickered and nudged your shoulder playfully. “C’mon, I’d be stupid to not let that happen again.”

“Wanna come over tonight?” he offered. “Not… not to do our project. Let’s, like, actually hang out. We can watch one of your anime recommendations.”

You smiled at him. “Tonight? Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Y/N, I…” Renjun started, and when he realized what he was going to say, he cut himself off, shocked.

“What is it?”

He shook his head. “I have to go to the bathroom to take care of my little problem,” he mumbled. “Stall the professor for me, will you?”

You threw your head back and laughed—well, it was more like a cackle. It sounded kind of evil, and Renjun was a little miffed at the thought of you enjoying the thought of him suffering with blue balls.

When you agreed and fixed your appearance before you left, Renjun had to lean back against one of the desks and process what had just happened. It wasn’t the sex that he was so worried about, but it was the words that died on his tongue. The words he would’ve let fall from his lips if he had just a little less self-control.

I like you a lot.

“I think I’m gonna ask Y/N out,” Renjun blurted out that evening at the dinner table.

Jaemin choked on his cereal. Nobody asked why he was eating Frosted Flakes while everyone else was eating a proper meal; it was probably just a Jaemin thing. Renjun was more curious as to why he had a second box of cereal next to his bowl, though, like he was ready to devour both.

“You’re asking her out?!” Donghyuck asked, an excited glint playing in his eyes. Renjun knew that look all too well, and he was a little scared of it, but part of him wanted to believe it was genuine excitement from his friend.

“I like her,” Renjun admitted. “A lot.”

Jeno whistled lowly. “I didn’t think this day would come. Mark would be proud of you, Renjun.”

“I never needed Mark’s validation, Jeno, but thanks.”

“So, when are you gonna ask her?” Jaemin asked, spooning a bunch of cereal and milk into his mouth.

That was what Renjun was stuck on. He had no idea what “good timing” was, and he wasn’t sure if asking a girl out while watching anime was very romantic. Then again, he didn’t expect you to care too much about formalities like that.

Plus, it was clear that you had some feelings for Renjun. He could feel the mutual intimacy when he split you open, as odd as that sounded.

“Tonight,” Renjun decided.

(“Need us to leave the house? We can chill outside,” Donghyuck offered.

“No, you’re good,” Renjun told him, “and I’m saying this because I saw the binoculars in your backpack so please stay in your room, for the love of God.”)

Huang Renjun was meticulous.

Because of this, he actually watched Your Name before you came over. He didn’t pay too much attention to the plot because he wanted to get into it while you were by his side, but he noted the three ideal points in the movie to drop the question of the night.

So, when you knocked at his door, he was prepared.

“Hey,” you breathed out, and Renjun felt winded for a second because you looked absolutely gorgeous with your scarf pulled up to your chin.

“What’s up?” He rubbed the back of his neck and was starting to wonder if he wasn’t as prepared as he thought he was.

“I dressed up,” you told him. “Isn’t it stupid? I dressed up to watch anime.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Renjun replied, and he could hear miniature replicas of his roommates screaming in his head, telling him that he was fumbling the bag. So, he quickly added, “But it’s cute.”

Fumbled and saved. Renjun was too lucky sometimes.

“You think I’m cute?” you asked as Renjun opened his laptop to stream the movie. He was a bit distracted with entering his password in, but when he processed your question, he did a double take. You giggled at his reaction. “Well?”

“I mean…” He hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as he thought they were. “I guess so—yeah.”

He patted the space next to him on his bed before you could tease him any further. Renjun thought his heart would go crazy if you continued being so annoyingly adorable in front of him. So, he fixed his gaze on his laptop screen, only glancing at you when you slid into the sheets next to him and leaned against his arm. Renjun placed half of the laptop on your lap so that it was centered.

Normally, instances like these would result in a cuddle session. However, Renjun had to understand that you took your anime seriously, and that there would be nothing sexual or romantic happening while you two were watching the movie. He decided to buckle down and watch it seriously himself.

However, that resulted in Renjun missing all of the ideal points in the movie to drop the “will you be my girlfriend?” bomb. He wound up being so immersed in the movie, and he only realized that he had actually fumbled the bag when they reached the climax of the movie.

“This part makes me so anxious,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” Renjun replied bitterly. Thankfully, you didn’t have the mind to question why he sounded so indifferent. “Same here.”

When Renjun recalled the possibly romantic ending scene, he realized he had another chance to make things right.

Unfortunately, he got so distracted by the movie again that he completely missed the opportunity to ask you out. He was mentally scolding himself for being so out-of-character.

“Renjun,” you started, and he turned to you with a raised brow. “You look disappointed with the ending.”

“I’m not disappointed with the movie, I’m disappointed in myself,” he answered honestly. “The movie was incredible, really. Five out of five stars on Yelp.”

You gently touched his arm. “Why are you disappointed in yourself?”

“Because I wanted to ask you out!” Renjun exclaimed. God, he was stupid. He was so, so, so stupid, but the words were slipping out without any proper filter. “I picked out, like, three good moments in the movie where I could’ve popped the question, but I was being an idiot and missed them all. Jesus, this is so—”

“I like you, too.”

There was a feeling Renjun got sometimes when he was around you. It was when his chest felt fuzzy and his stomach kept dropping. He supposed it was what people described as “butterflies,” but Renjun despised butterflies, so he didn’t want to call it that.

But, here you were, laying your feelings bare in front of Renjun. He felt like the sun, Earth, and the moon had all aligned for this very moment. It was like a collision of supernovas in his chest, making him buzz and glow with the amount of inexplicable joy he felt.

You liked him. You liked him.

“You…” Renjun trailed off. “Huh?”

“I like you, stupid,” you insisted, punching his shoulder lightly. “Do I have to scream it in your ear?”

“I might be dreaming.” When you brought your lips to Renjun’s ear, he panicked and held you back by your shoulders. “Okay, relax, I get it. You like me back. Understood.”

You grinned. “Well, do you have something you wanna say?”

Renjun blushed. He couldn’t believe he could feel flustered to this extent, but you had a strange effect on him. When he regained his composure, he moved the laptop off your laps and turned to face you a little more.

“Y/N,” he started. “I like you a lot, so will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled brightly and kissed his cheek. “Of course.”

Renjun looked you dead in the eye. “So, ready to seal the deal?” he asked.

“What deal?”

Renjun’s hand moved to hold the back of your neck, leaning down to pull you into a sweet kiss. He was surprised by how easily you fell into the rhythm, kissing him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Renjun pulled you closer by your hip, nearly going further until you placed your hands on his chest.

You pulled back for air, looking up at him with a glazed-over expression. He was definitely going to have to make this impromptu first date up to you with something more romantic, but, for now, Huang Renjun was too lost in your eyes.

“Up for a round?” you asked.

Renjun’s cheeks heated up before you handed him the game console. “Smash Bros. Right.” He took it from your hands and sent you a lopsided grin. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

A grin spread across your face. “Don’t be too sure of yourself,” you chided. “Even though I’m your girlfriend now, I’m not showing you any mercy.”

Jeno groaned as he slapped a ten dollar bill into Donghyuck’s palm. The two of them and Jaemin had been eavesdropping on their best friend’s confession earlier, and they were glad for two reasons: one being that Renjun was the first bitch hunter to attain a bitch, and the second reason being that they didn’t have to listen in on them nearly fucking.

“Jaemin, I need ten dollars from you, too,” Donghyuck chided. “I said they’d get together within two months and they did, so I won this bet fair and square.”

“I was close enough!” Jaemin complained. “Three months was a pretty reasonable estimate.”

“But not the closest, so cough it up.” Donghyuck gestured for his housemate to place the money on his hand, and Jaemin reluctantly did so after much reluctance. “It feels so good to be right all the time.”

“I thought they’d get together in two weeks.” Jeno crossed his arms across his chest. “But, damn, Renjun was the first to get cuffed out of us, and he didn’t even care about bitch hunting.”

“It’s okay, boys,” Donghyuck assured, though his bravado was simply just boosted by his $20 reward, “all of us will find our respective bitches.” He glanced at Jaemin for a moment and made a face. “Actually, I’m not sure about Jaemin, but Jeno and I for sure.”

“Funny,” Jaemin replied bitterly, “I was just about to say the same about you, Hyuck.”

Jeno, sensing the tension rising between his two friends, grinned sheepishly and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “We should get to campus before we’re late, you guys.”

The other two agreed despite bickering the entire walk to the car. Jeno snickered at his friends, but all he could think about was how the heat was on now. Since Renjun was victorious a month and a half into the semester, Jeno knew that Donghyuck and Jaemin would be even more fired up to find their special someone. He, too, wondered when the day would come that he found someone that made him soft around the edges.

For now, though, Jeno could just enjoy listening to his friends banter back-and-forth.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ huang renjun: no bitches to bitch attained >:) thank you so much for your patience with the first installment !! i can’t wait to write the rest <33 i wanna scream it from the top of the building bc i feel like that’s the only way i can truly show my gratitude but i deeeeeply appreciate all the love and support i’ve gotten on this series !! to think this was supposed to be for my 5k follower special and i’m at 6k now!! that’s insane???? i’m so honored that you guys choose to read my works so thank you thank you thank you and i hope you enjoyed the first installment! ♡ (p.s: i hope you caught onto the lil segway to jeno’s at the end :D)

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theharrowing · 3 months

Text

Showstopper 📸 3: Nobody has ever made me feel this way

Hoseok knows the rumors.

Everyone in the industry knows the rumors.

Min Yoongi is a player. Min Yoongi is a snake. Stand in front of Min Yoongi’s camera, and you will be just another one of his victims – prey for him to use as he pleases and toss away when he gets bored.

Still, when Hoseok gets the call to audition for the magazine at which the elusive Min Yoongi works as the lead photographer, he does not hesitate to say yes. This is Hoseok’s dream, and he will be damned if he lets some industry hotshot stand in his way. He is an up-and-coming model who has worked with some of the hottest, most chaotic people in the business; surely, one man is not capable of hip-swishing into Hoseok’s life and throwing a wrench in all his plans.

📸 Hoseok x Yoongi

📸 word count: 18.7k

📸 strangers to lovers, model & photographer au, angst, smut, fluff, slash, nsfw, 18+

📸 warnings: Hoseok & Yoongi switch; they are both hot and cold & there is plenty of angst; footsie that turns to cockstepping; explicit discussion of sexual acts; jealousy; attempts at communication; dry humping; hair pulling; use of "good boy"; mouth spitting; blowjobs; deepthroating; a lot of drool; brief delicate cheek slapping; cum swallowing; some overstimulation; frotting; Yoongi is surprisingly submissive; sexual acts happen while somewhat under the influence but not drunk.

📸 notes: this chapter is very dialogue heavy!!! i hope some plot points don't feel too rushed or contrived, but i am trying to squeeze everything into my 4 planned chapters, since i have so much on my plate! 💜

📸 written for the BTS Found Fest!

📸 thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading.

📸 posted jan. 2024 | read on ao3

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Hoseok cannot, for the life of him, pretend that kiss never happened.

He may as well be drunk each day with the way he spaces out, misses instruction, and does not seem to be fully aware of his surroundings. He is clumsy, always staring at Yoongi's hands, and forgetting to change poses without being told.

And to make matters worse, Yoongi's moodiness has ramped up. He is quick to snap his fingers and bark instructions.

"Model," he will say, not using Hoseok's name, "get your head out of the fucking clouds, what is going on with you?"

With a shrug and maybe a yawn, Hoseok will sigh and bat his eyelashes. "Sorry, boss," he will make his voice soft and sweet as candy floss, "just tired this week."

The thing is, Hoseok is coasting until he finds out whether Dior wants more from him. He already has the cover and the money shots – the shit he is doing this week is all random filler images that Yoongi will keep a stock of in case he needs something for an ad. Random outfits, random backdrops, random accessories.

Why he is bothering to do any of this right now seems pointless. It is almost as if Yoongi is just asking him to be around for the sake of having him around, and Hoseok finds it tedious. After his hot shot Dior campaign, he deserves a vacation. He wore a merkin, for fuck's sake.

During the third day of this nonsense, Namjoon comes sighing into the makeup room, shaking his head. There are other models around, so he waits to get up close to Hoseok's ear to mutter, "You're really getting under his skin. Are you trying to get fired?"

Hoseok simply stares at him with one eyebrow raised. He knows Yoongi has told Namjoon about the kiss – he tells Namjoon about everything.

Namjoon confirms that he at least knows something by rolling his eyes, shaking his head, and saying, "Well, he has asked me to invite you to dinner with him today so the two of you can speak."

"I have nothing to say to him," Hoseok says, holding out his perfectly manicured left hand to inspect whether his nails are still shiny and well-groomed – they are. "If he wants to invite me out, he can do it, himself."

On top of everything else, Hoseok is playing hard to get. If Yoongi wants to see or speak to him, he can earn the right. One does not barge into Hoseok's apartment, surprise him with a life-altering kiss, and then carry on like everything is fine. Absolutely not.

He wants to annoy Yoongi by playing footsie with him under a restaurant booth, or seduce him up in his big, dark office, but not let him have anything more than another kiss. Just to show him that he is not fully in control.

But he doesn't want to make it obvious to the other models. He has no desire to commiserate with them over the ways Yoongi has used them.

Ultimately, Hoseok wants to come out on top – figuratively and literally. He wants to have Yoongi sprawled out across that big, leather-topped desk of his, moaning Hoseok's name in his deep, raspy timbre. That's the goal.

Namjoon pulls out his phone and thumbs around, dimples on display as he smiles to himself. Hoseok likes it when Namjoon plays along with his cattiness, and he imagines that Namjoon is relaying his message to Yoongi.

Meanwhile, models come and go, all shooting with different photographers throughout the massive studio space. Only Hoseok and Sunmi have Yoongi's attention, and Hoseok has been attempting to watch like a hawk to see if any flirtatious behavior is exchanged, but much to his chagrin, Sunmi only seems to be behind Yoongi's lens when Hoseok is busy getting his hair and makeup done.

He wonders how many more models Yoongi will kiss this week. How many does he text to ask if they need a ride home? How many go out to lunch with him in secluded corner booths and shower at his home studio?

Whereas before, Hoseok thought he was catching feelings for Yoongi, now he is determined for it to be a power play only. He just wants to fuck him once to get it out of his system – mark up that round little ass of his. Then he can leave this whole stupid company behind.

Hoseok is balls deep in a mental image of Yoongi bent over his large desk when he hears the man's voice cut through his imagination, bringing him back to reality.

"Hoseok."

Hoseok looks up to find Yoongi's head peeking into the room. Namjoon is still present, still on his phone, but Hoseok can tell by his expression – by the way his eyes are staring unmoving at the device – that he is definitely eavesdropping.

"Yes, boss?" Hoseok asks with as much indifference as he can muster.

"How would you like to come on a little field trip with me? Dior wants to discuss a second round of outfits, and I could use some dinner."

Hoseok stretches his back and lets out a deep sigh, then he slouches in his chair and shrugs, acting bored. "Sure. Sounds fun."

Rather than respond, Yoongi simply leaves the room. Hoseok stands to follow, but Namjoon stops him in his tracks.

"Let's find you something nice to wear," he says.

Hoseok looks down at his favorite baby blue cropped tee and low-rise daisy duke denim shorts and says, "What are you talking about? I look amazing."

"I didn't say you didn't look amazing," Namjoon responds with a playful smile. "But I just think you should wear something a touch more put together."

By now, all of the models have left the room, and Namjoon closes the door.

"Why?" Hoseok asks conspiratorially. "Is he taking me somewhere nice? Gonna butter me up? Or finally apologize? Maybe try to corner me for another stupid fucking kiss?"

With a sigh, Namjoon turns to a rack of black and white clothing and begins to search until he pulls out a black blazer, black slacks, and a delicate off-white silk blouse. Hoseok rolls his eyes dramatically but cannot hold back a smile as he strips down and allows Namjoon to play dress up.

The blouse has a deep v-neck that hangs gracefully down to the valley of his pecs, and he wears the fitted blazer fully open, with the blouse tucked into tight, fitted slacks that are accentuated nicely with a black leather belt. Namjoon dusts a thin black line around Hoseok's eyes and chooses a pair of chunky black loafers for him to wear.

While Namjoon is digging through a chest for jewelry pieces, there are three soft knocks on the door, followed by it slowly opening and Yoongi sticking his head back into the room. Hoseok stares at his boss, watching as his eyes widen and then settle back to their cold natural state.

"We're just about finished, boss," Namjoon says.

Yoongi heavy-blinks and nods once, then says, "I'll be in the car."

Hoseok is no fool – he knows that behavior well. "He wants me so bad," he says, giggling to himself while cold metal is draped around his neck and fastened into place.

Namjoon has chosen a stack of delicate gold chains that drape and cascade beautifully with the deep neck of the blouse. Hoseok dances his fingertips along one of the thickest chains and smiles into the mirror.

"Joonie Baboonie, you have such an eye for style."

"Baboonie?" Namjoon asks with a chuckle as Hoseok spins on his toes and pats Namjoon on one of his big, strong biceps.

"Yes, Baboonie! You got this primal ape thickness to you," he says, giving Namjoon's arm a squeeze.

Namjoon gasps and yanks his arm away, pretending to be scandalized. "I don't even know what to think right now."

"Trust me, it's a compliment," Hoseok says as he turns toward the door, looking over his shoulder to add, "You're easily one of the hottest men on this peninsula."

The tips of Namjoon's ears turn a precious shade of red, and Hoseok grabs his phone, wallet, and keys from where they sit on the vanity counter and slide them into his borrowed pockets, giggling to himself over how fun it is to rile Namjoon up.

He takes his time walking through the studio, to the large front doors ahead, listening to shutters snap closed while photographers and directors instruct and praise and ask more from their models. Despite feeling fed up with Yoongi's antics, he is proud to be part of this world, and he holds his head high as he pauses before the sliding glass doors and waits for them to open wide.

It is early evening, still bright and warm outside. Hoseok spots the familiar sedan sitting curbside and is pleased to find only Yoongi waiting for him. He can play coy all he wants in the presence of others, but he is not so sure he can hold up the facade around Seokjin, and the man's absence is a relief.

Yoongi wears a black mask over his nose and mouth, as well as black sunglasses, and when Hoseok opens the door and slides into the front seat, Yoongi points to the glove compartment and says, "Disguise, please."

Now that Hoseok is alone with Yoongi, he fully takes in his appearance. Between being photographed by him earlier in the day and now, he has changed from his typical flowing black rags into a white button-up top with long, sharp lapels, and charcoal grey slacks that strain against his thighs. His hair has so much volume that the tips fan out in pretty waves, and Hoseok openly stares, feeling his feigned impassiveness crash down around him.

There is no way he is going to be able to have the upper hand if Yoongi is this fucking pretty.

"Hoseok," Yoongi says, "we don't have all day."

Hoseok clears his throat, blinks Yoongi from view, and leans to open the glove compartment. Inside is a pair of black sunglasses and an unused black mask, and he reaches for each item to put on.

"Why the disguises?" he asks.

"I don't like my identity being widely spread, and there always seems to be someone in the high-end districts waiting for me to waltz into a shop or restaurant. Better safe than sorry."

"Why is that?" Hoseok asks, adjusting the mask to fit comfortably over his nose.

Yoongi sighs. "The last thing I need is for the press to see me taking my models out to eat and spread the word that I'm fucking them."

"Because you are," Hoseok mutters.

"Flirting is not the same as fucking."

Hoseok rolls his eyes and tips his head in Yoongi's direction. His voice is low but challenging as he asks, "How many of them do you fuck, boss?"

It is a shame Yoongi's face is covered; Hoseok would love to see his expression as he says, "Currently, none."

With a hum, Hoseok turns to reach for his seatbelt. He does not believe Yoongi for a second, but he is still happy with the claim.

"Where are we off to?" Hoseok asks in a far more chipper voice.

Yoongi sighs, turning Hoseok's attention back to him. He has his sunglasses pulled down to the bridge of his nose, and his eyes appear somewhat sad.

"Look, I'm sorry for kissing you. I should have asked…or…I don't know…refrained."

"Yup," Hoseok responds snarkily.

"But we need to at least pretend things are normal, for the sake of professionality. Otherwise I will not be able to continue having you at M Magazine. I really don't want to let you go, Hoseok."

"Because I'm a good investment. I know."

Another sigh. "Is that really how you feel?"

Hoseok rolls his eyes again, thankful that his expression is hidden, because he suddenly feels dangerously close to crying. He takes his time to think about his response, and then he shrugs. Yoongi is fucking insane if he thinks Hoseok is going to give him an ounce of his dignity.

"I thought we didn't have all day?" he asks, instead.

Yoongi slowly blinks, then says, "We have time for this. If there's something we need to discuss, I can always make time for it."

"Wow, so caring," Hoseok drawls sarcastically. "You're really good at putting on the good boy act when it's just the two of us. How many other models do you do this for?"

Yoongi squints, pushes his sunglasses back into place, and presses the ignition start button. Then he simply asks, "Sushi?"

"Sushi sounds great," Hoseok responds genuinely as he sits back and looks out the windshield, eyes trailing over details he barely registers of vehicles and trees.

Off they drive. Hoseok spaces out entirely, blocking out everything ahead. Instead, he fights with his own emotions, unsure how he would like to proceed.

He wants to tease Yoongi, and ultimately break him down. And in order to do so, he knows he needs to drop the snark. But Yoongi has genuinely pissed him off, and it is difficult not to bring it up.

When the racing thoughts get to be too overwhelming, Hoseok reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone. He has Namjoon's number saved from their spa day, and he pulls up his contact.

Hoseok Joon Baboon, this man is driving me insane. Please snitch on your bestie and tell me what he said about The Kiss™. I feel claustrophobic in this car because I don't know what the fuck this man is thinking.

Hoseok assumes Namjoon is still at work, but there is a chance he is between models, or packing up for the day. It is rare for anyone to stay past five, and it is a quarter to five now.

For good measure, he also sends a text to Jeongguk. He is eager to pick his friend's brain if Jeongguk is willing to talk about his experience with Yoongi.

Hoseok Ggukieee!!! Drinks later? On me? I'm having a crisis that only you could understand.

He places his phone face down on his leg and patiently waits, staring out the side window at all the tall glass and concrete buildings. This side of the city is where all the money is. Designer shops, high-end restaurants, five-star hotels.

Yoongi pulls up to a valet stand, takes a deep, slow breath, and shuts the ignition off. Hoseok swallows thickly, wondering if there really might be members of the press lingering around, waiting to photograph his boss – and, by extension, him.

As soon as Yoongi is out of the car, Hoseok follows suit, unbuckling and slowly opening his door. He has no idea why his heart pounds, and he glances around at his surroundings, noticing the way people stop and take in his appearance.

"For Min," Yoongi says as he hands the valet attendant his key.

The attendant bows and Yoongi turns to Hoseok, nods his chin, and walks toward a large glass door.

Hoseok follows close behind, trying to elongate his steps to accentuate the beautiful garments he wears rather than prance ahead quickly. He feels like royalty in the outfit Namjoon has dressed him in, and he intends to savor each second he spends in it.

Yoongi holds the door open, and Hoseok steps inside. Immediately, he is hit with rich umami and spicy scents, and he stops and waits for Yoongi to step ahead and say, "Two for Min," to the hostess.

"Right this way," she says, leading the two of them through a lavish restaurant furnished in gold, crystal, and jade, with copious amounts of natural lighting.

She leads them to a section of private booths with tall wooden walls – an area that is much more dim and intimate than the main dining hall – and she points to a booth all the way at the end. There are no other patrons in this area of the restaurant, yet Yoongi only removes his sunglasses once they are seated.

"The usual?" she asks, and Yoongi turns his attention to Hoseok.

"I usually get an assortment of sashimi, as well as inari, miso soup, and sake."

"That sounds good," Hoseok mutters, feeling inexplicably shy as he removes his sunglasses and scoots to the center of the booth.

"The usual, for two," Yoongi nods to the hostess, who bows and walks away. He busies himself with unfolding his napkin and placing it over his lap, and then pulls out his cell phone.

Hoseok pulls his phone out, as well. And in that moment, it vibrates.

Joon Baboon All he said was that he made a mistake. He feels like he broke your trust and pissed you off, and for that, he feels guilty.

Hoseok rolls his eyes and bites his lip to prevent from smiling.

Hoseok Is that what this fancy as fuck sushi dinner is about?

Joon Baboon You didn't hear it from me…

Hoseok The magic words!!!

Joon Baboon But, yes.

"About Dior," Yoongi says, causing Hoseok to set his phone down on the booth beside his leg and lift his attention to his boss. "Technically, the contract is over if you are pleased with all we have done. But they have reached out to express interest in having you model the upcoming winter line."

"Oh?" Hoseok perks up and folds his hands over his lap, watching as Yoongi pulls the mask from his mouth and neatly sets it aside.

Yoongi is devastatingly pretty with his hair wild and curly. Especially with the crisp white shirt, his skin looks petal soft, and his lips have a slight gloss – kissable and sweet. Hoseok hates how quickly one look can make every wall he attempts to build around his heart buckle and crumble to his feet.

"Cardigans, hoodies, handbags," Yoongi continues, "possibly sneakers. Oh, and they have a grey wide-legged wool pant that I believe you would be particularly stunning in, if that interests you."

Hoseok licks his lips and nods. For once, he has nothing snarky to say, and instead, he sits back and takes a deep breath. More Dior means more time spent with Yoongi acting as his agent. He feels conflicted.

"Would this be something we begin soon?" Hoseok asks, suddenly feeling antsy and shifting in his seat. "Or would we draw up a new contract?"

Yoongi studies his face, then leans forward with his elbows on the table. "What would you like to do? Continue the current contract and get all of that out of the way, or pause with Dior in order to find representation with a more permanent agent?"

Hoseok gently nibbles on the inside of his lip. He figures he may as well be honest with Yoongi, despite how much he loathes putting his feelings on display.

Luckily for him, a server approaches with a tray of water and sake. Hoseok busies himself with pouring small glasses of sake while the server excuses themself. He can feel Yoongi watching him, and he swallows back his anxiety as best as he can.

"In the event that Dior keeps thirsting for my good looks, I think I would like to find a more permanent agent."

He glances up and sees Yoongi watching him, chin resting against his folded hands.

"S-so, if you wouldn't mind putting me in touch with some," Hoseok continues, pulse quickening the longer Yoongi stares, "I would appreciate it."

"Alright," Yoongi says. "I can set up some interviews for this week."

"Thanks, boss," Hoseok mutters as he slides a soju glass forward.

"Any particular reason you are eager to pay money for representation?" Yoongi asks in a teasing voice as he reaches for his glass before Hoseok has a chance to let it go.

The warm graze of Yoongi's fingers makes Hoseok swallow thickly and pull his hand away. Yoongi's signature smirk is back, and it fills his tummies with butterflies and regret.

"Maybe," is all Hoseok is willing to say.

Yoongi hums, then lifts his glass, waiting for Hoseok to lift his, as well.

"How much sake will it take until you comfortably tell me what's on your mind?" he asks.

Hoseok scoffs, referring to the other night as he says, "At least three bottles."

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow and softly chuckles. They tap their glasses together, and Hoseok shoots the liquid back, savoring the almost buttery quality that shines through the semi-sweet flavor.

"How much will it take for you to be honest about your intentions with me?" Hoseok tries.

Yoongi lets out a slow exhale. "My intentions are to assist you with finding an agent to represent you for the rest of your brand contracts, and to continue assisting you with putting your best face forward in the hottest magazine in South Korea."

Hoseok hums and licks his lips. He wants to challenge Yoongi further, but he worries that this is not the place for that.

The booth rattles with an incoming text message, and Yoongi's eyes follow the sound, then lift to Hoseok, asking, "You gonna check that?"

Hoseok rolls his eyes and laughs humorlessly to himself, reaching for his phone. "You're insufferable," he mutters under his breath.

"Well, you aren't willing to speak openly with me," Yoongi quips, "so you may as well entertain yourself somehow."

Hoseok tongues the inside of his cheek as he lifts his phone, sees that it is a message from Jeongguk, and unlocks his screen to read it.

"Do you like wasabi in your soy sauce?" Yoongi asks, and Hoseok flicks his gaze up briefly, annoyed with his sudden change in topic.

"Sure," he says, dropping his gaze down to his phone.

Ggukie Bun Drinks sound fun, but idk how much I wanna talk about that man…you'll have to loosen me up quite a bit to get me to spill, hyungie.

He sends a quick response—

Hoseok You got yourself a deal, bunny. I'll hit you up when I'm finished with dinner.

—and slides his phone into his pants pocket before leaning forward with his elbows against the table.

"You want me to talk?" Hoseok challenges, keeping his voice low in case there are people sitting in nearby booths. "Alright, boss, I'll talk about anything you want. Pick my brain, since you're so eager."

Yoongi smirks and the sight alone has Hoseok's frustration reaching an all new high. The audacity of this man to push his buttons so much; he is going to lose his fucking mind.

Hoseok watches as Yoongi uses his chopsticks to mix a dollop of wasabi into a small square dish that he has poured soy sauce into, eyes glued to his long fingers cradling the black lacquered utensils.

"So, you're saying I don't have to spend eight hundred thousand won on booze to get you to open up?" Yoongi teases as he lays his chopsticks down across an empty dish.

"Eight hundred—" Hoseok gasps, then looks at the ceramic carafe in the center of the table. "What?"

"I know, one hundred and thirty thousand won is a lot for just one bottle, but I rather like how smooth this one is."

Hoseok chuckles and shakes his head. "You cannot be serious."

Yoongi's voice drops an octave as he leans forward and says, "Don't think I wouldn't spend that kind of money on you, Hoseok. Especially if it gets those pretty lips talking."

All the little hairs on Hoseok's body stand at full attention. He has half a mind to excuse himself to run outside for some fresh air.

"Pretty lips?" Hoseok asks, instead, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.

Yoongi's smirk becomes a grin, and there is a devious glimmer in his eyes as he says, "I quite liked the taste of soju on your tongue, but I bet this sake would be even better."

Nervous laughter rocks through Hoseok's chest, and he holds his left hand up and shakes his head, muttering, "Okay, you need to stop."

"Awe, what's the matter, Hoseok?" Yoongi teases.

"I am so fucking serious."

Yoongi sits back, resting his hands on the top of the dark wooden table, and Hoseok allows himself to stare at his short, tidy nails and knobby knuckles.

"Is that why you no longer want me to be your agent?" Yoongi asks. "Eager for another kiss?"

"Fuck it," Hoseok grumbles to himself as he sits tall, looks Yoongi in the eye, and says, "Yeah. That is why."

Yoongi watches Hoseok, eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips and back up. He appears to have something to say, but for once, is holding back.

Servers approach with trays of food, starting with the miso soup and inari, then the sashimi. Hoseok thanks the servers, smiles impatiently at Yoongi, and then waits for him to start eating.

But Yoongi keeps his eyes on Hoseok. He slowly blinks, saying nothing, and Hoseok takes a deep, fortifying breath and says, "Yoongi-ssi, I would like to eat. Please start."

"Sorry," Yoongi utters softly, lifting his burgundy napkin and tucking one corner delicately into the neck of his shirt.

Hoseok rolls his eyes and sits back with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. Whatever game Yoongi is playing at, it is wearing him out.

"I was just thinking," Yoongi says as he reaches for his small bowl of soup and lifts it to his lips. He blows delicately at the broth and says, "Seokjin may have room to represent you."

Hoseok sits forward and reaches for his own small black plastic bowl with red along the rim, and he lifts it to his lips. "Seokjin works as an agent?"

Yoongi sips at his soup and closes his eyes. A smile graces his lips, and Hoseok forgets for a moment how hungry he is – all he can do is stare.

"Seokjin started out as my in-house agent," Yoongi says as his eyelids flutter open. "But then he got bored of dealing with fussy models and slowly transitioned to becoming my assistant. Sorry, my goon."

A hint of a smile tugs at Hoseok's lips before he can stop himself. He has a sip of the miso soup, and the rich, savory broth instantly warms him, sending a chill along his spine as he adjusts to the sudden change in temperature.

With another salty sip, a small square of tofu glides between his lips and practically melts on his tongue, and Hoseok understands why Yoongi reacts the way he does to savoring this soup. It really is delicious, and the perfect starter to the meal.

"I'm not sure he would enjoy me, then," Hoseok jokes, holding the bowl close to his lips. Steam rises from the broth, and he enjoys the way it dances over his skin. "I'm pretty fussy."

Yoongi chuckles, shakes his head, and mutters, "You're not that bad," before having another sip.

Hoseok sets his half-finished soup aside and reaches for his chopsticks. The inari is calling his name, and he reaches for a piece while Yoongi sets his empty soup bowl down, and he dips it rice-side-down into the soy sauce and wasabi.

Although inari is a simple dish of sticky rice tucked inside a soft, fried pocket of bean curd, there is a semi-sweetness to it that, paired with soy and wasabi, is quite delicious. He does his best to only bite the edge of it, leaning over his bowl to catch stray grains of rice that fall.

He alternates between nibbles of the inari and slices of sashimi, hardly taking his eyes off the table until the meal is nearly finished. Yoongi fills the glasses of sake, and he stands slightly to reach across the table and set Hoseok's close to him.

With Yoongi hovering over the table, looming over Hoseok, the breath catches in Hoseok's throat. He watches as Yoongi smiles slightly and licks his lips, then settles back in his seat.

"How many models are you regularly kissing and flirting with?" Hoseok asks, reaching for his sake.

Yoongi shakes his head, and mutters, "Hoseok—"

"I'm serious," Hoseok interrupts, sitting tall in his seat. "Whatever it is you're doing with me, I don't want it if this is something you're doing with someone else, too. The rides home and gentle knee touches…all of it. I'm serious."

"I'm not taking anyone else on dinner dates or squeezing anyone else's knee," Yoongi insists. "The only other model I am spending time with is Sunmi, but I am not eager to piss off her partner."

"But if she were single—" Hoseok attempts.

Yoongi shuts him down, "No, Hoseok." He snickers and reaches for his cup of sake. "Not even if she were single."

Hoseok raises his eyebrow. "You aren't fucking Seori?"

At this, Yoongi chuckles. "Did Namjoon tell on me?" When Hoseok says nothing, he continues, "Seori and I had a fling once."

"When?"

"Months ago."

Hoseok tongues the inside of his mouth. "How many months ago?"

Yoongi lifts his sake and shoots it back, then reaches for the carafe to give himself a refill. "Hoseok, you and I shared one kiss. That hardly gives you grounds to interrogate me."

With a heavy sigh, Hoseok extends his right foot, reaching until he feels the toe of his loafer make gentle contact with the side of Yoongi's leg. Yoongi looks down, then up, and raises an eyebrow.

"You intend to share more than just one kiss with me," Hoseok challenges, scooting forward and rubbing his toe higher. "Don't you?"

Yoongi swallows visibly. "This is hardly appropriate behavior to conduct with your boss, Hoseok."

"You started it," Hoseok says plainly, dancing the edge of his shoe against Yoongi's knee. "Call Seokjin. Ask him to represent me."

Yoongi dances his tongue between his teeth as he watches Hoseok. Then he rolls his eyes, reaches one hand below the table, and grazes his fingertips over the joint of Hoseok's ankle. Despite it being a light, innocuous touch, Hoseok's exhale comes out a bit shaky, and he sets down his neglected cup of sake.

"What is it that you want, exactly?" Yoongi asks.

He scoots forward, causing Hoseok's shoe to graze his inner thigh. And despite how unaffected Yoongi seems by the movement, Hoseok's heart pounds at the thought.

"I don't know," Hoseok lies, taking a deep breath and stretching his leg forward.

Hoseok can feel the moment the toe of his shoe very lightly grazes Yoongi's crotch. Yoongi's lips gently part, and Hoseok knows he must look ridiculous with his mouth hanging halfway open, but it is the only way he can hope to breathe; the air feels far thicker than it had moments ago.

"You don't know?" Yoongi challenges, scooting forward again.

The bottom of Hoseok's loafer presses firmly against Yoongi's crotch, and at the same time, both men gasp. Yoongi's eyelids flutter ever so slightly while Hoseok's mouth and eyes widen.

Yoongi tips his head to the side and asks, "Then what are you doing?"

"Fucking with you," Hoseok mutters before he can stop himself. "Wanted to see how far I could push you."

"Ah," Yoongi responds, resting a hand against Hoseok's shoe while the other pushes the hem of his pants upward to gently grab his ankle, skin against skin. "Well, you have yet to reach your limit."

A server approaches, and Hoseok instinctively attempts to yank his leg away, but Yoongi holds his foot in place with one hand while tugging the napkin from where it is tucked into his shirt and draping it over Hoseok's shoe.

"Is there anything more I can bring you tonight?" the server asks, glancing between Yoongi, Hoseok, and what is left of their meal.

"One more bottle should be good," Yoongi says, leaning forward and pressing himself against the sole of Hoseok's shoe while grabbing the sake carafe to give it a shake.

There seems to be liquid inside, and Yoongi reaches with his other hand, silently asking Hoseok for his cup.

"One more bottle coming right up," the server says as they turn to walk away.

Hoseok watches Yoongi, feeling trapped in place and dumbfounded, foot lodged between Yoongi's thighs.

"Cup?" Yoongi asks, making Hoseok heavy-blink and reach for his sake.

Hoseok slams back the drink, sighing through the sudden onslaught of very tasty liquid. He holds his cup out toward Yoongi, cradling it delicately in the fingers of both hands while Yoongi fills it with more clear sake.

He fills his own cup next, sets down the carafe, and lifts the cup. "To finding you an agent," he says with a grin.

Hoseok lifts his cup and nods, then shoots the liquid back. He reaches for the carafe, but Yoongi tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth, insisting on being the one to handle it.

By the time the server returns, the sake is gone, and a new carafe is set between them. Yoongi does not seem to notice the fact that Hoseok's shoe is still in place between his legs, and Hoseok makes no move to drop it.

"Ah, right," Yoongi says after pouring them another glass. "I forgot that I have business to attend to."

Hoseok watches as Yoongi pulls out his phone, tipping his head to the side curiously.

Yoongi thumbs around, then holds the phone to his ear, eyes on Hoseok as he smiles and says, "Seokjin…might I ask you for a favor?"

* * *

The second round of sake renders the two of them unable to swing by Dior and peruse their winter line. Or, perhaps the game of footsie distracted them from their goal. Likely, it is a combination of both.

Hoseok opts not to get dropped off at home first, which is a mistake. Jeongguk is already at their favorite dive bar, and he watches as Hoseok gets out of Yoongi's vehicle, undoubtedly clocking the way he stumbles as his legs remember how to walk.

To make matters worse, Yoongi must notice Hoseok wave to Jeongguk, who sits directly behind where Hoseok stands, on a rickety metal chair on the bar patio, smoking a cigarette while wearing a skin-tight black shirt tucked into baggy black pants.

"You know him?" Yoongi asks, turning back to Hoseok, who pats his pockets down to make sure he has everything, standing beside the open passenger door. Yoongi wears the mask over his mouth, but his eyes are visible.

"I do," Hoseok says. "Why? Do you?"

Yoongi studies Hoseok briefly, then says, "He looks like someone I've photographed before."

"Interesting!" Hoseok chirps, drawing out the syllables.

"Something tells me you already know about this," Yoongi grumbles somewhat defensively.

Hoseok grins, sarcastically asking, "No…why would you think that?"

"Drink water," Yoongi says with a hint of concern that breaks through the annoyance in his eyes, clearly eager to change the topic and leave. "And text me if you need a ride home."

Hoseok sighs and waves Yoongi off, muttering, "I can take care of myself," then he closes the door and stumbles onto the sidewalk, giggling as he nearly trips over his own feet.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jeongguk grumbles as Hoseok approaches.

Hoseok is definitely more than tipsy, but he blames his giddiness for his inability to function properly. Seokjin had agreed over the phone to represent Hoseok, meaning once they sign a new contract, Hoseok will feel more confident to pursue his pretty boss.

He also felt Yoongi become rock-hard under his shoe, but that is a detail he does his best to block out for the time being. That one he will unpack later, once he is home alone.

"Business dinner," Hoseok responds, doing his best to act sober. He plops himself down in a chair across from Jeongguk and sighs dramatically, wishing he had a glass of water.

"Business dinner?" Jeongguk parrots incredulously. "Dressed like that? Stumbling around drunk? Be serious. I thought you were in crisis mode?"

"I am in peak crisis mode," Hoseok insists. "And anyway, Namjoon dressed me like this. Doesn't he have good taste."

"Namjoon," Jeongguk says in a dreamy tone, lips tugging into a smile. "Should have let him rail me, instead. He was way nicer."

"I bet you still could," Hoseok mutters, fighting the urge to take out his phone and text Namjoon to ask if he would be interested.

Jeongguk looks out into the distance, doe eyes bright and shining. Then he shrugs, and says, "Maybe some other time," and sits back, taking a drag of his diminishing cigarette. "So, what did you want to discuss?"

"Well, Ggukie, I was wondering if you would be open to telling me about what happened between you and my boss."

Jeongguk takes a sharp inhale of nicotine and holds it in. Then he shakes his head and blows a plume of smoke out toward the street. "Nah. Too sober."

Hoseok rolls his eyes and stands up quickly, holding his hand out to Jeongguk while saying, "Let's fix that."

* * *

Two bars and several rounds of shots later, Jeongguk and Hoseok are sitting on the couch in the back of some dingy neighborhood haunt that only people in their mid-twenties seem to patronize. Hoseok has his legs up on a low, wooden table on which neglected pint glasses of water sit creating rings of condensation around their bases, and Jeongguk has his legs draped over Hoseok's lap.

"It was just little shit at first, you know?" Jeongguk mutters, eyes half-squinted in part because there are several bright neon beer signs just to the right of Hoseok's head giving off a greenish-blueish glow.

Hoseok nods.

"Little touches here and there, using pet names and favoritism, asking me to come to his office, inviting me to his studio. He took it slow at first, as if to suss out whether I was interested. But of course I was interested. I mean, you've fucking seen him."

Hoseok nods a little more emphatically; he absolutely has seen him.

"But then he got really assertive, pressing against me in his office, muttering shit like," Jeongguk's voice drops to a low, mocking octave, "we shouldn't be doing this, and, you drive me crazy, and, I can't keep my hands off you."

Hoseok remembers Yoongi cornering him in the makeup room. But you understand why we can’t do that, yes?

"Then one thing led to another, and he had me draped over the couch of his studio with his tongue in my ass."

"Oh my god," Hoseok mutters, in part because he was not expecting this conversation to veer into this territory so abruptly and in part because he has sat on that couch several times!

Jeongguk says nothing more, only stares ahead as if whatever he is searching for is lightyears away.

"So…" Hoseok attempts, "then what?"

With a loud sigh, Jeongguk says, "Then we started fucking. Often. At his place, in his office, in the restroom at a fancy sushi spot."

"Oh my god," Hoseok mutters once more, eyes widening while staring out at the busy bar but not looking at anything in particular. "He took me to a fancy sushi spot."

"I've never had someone so eager to make me cum, like…god, the shit that man does. I pretty much stayed prepped and ready to bottom at all times."

"He was always in control?" Hoseok asks.

"Always. And it was amazing until it wasn't. Some girl named Seori was hired and he dropped me like a sweet potato."

Hoseok frowns, turning his gaze to Jeongguk. "Awe, Ggukie. Not a sweet potato."

Jeongguk nods slowly, nibbling on the inside of his mouth. "I know I shouldn't have taken it personally, but it was…it was a lot. He always said he wasn't into relationships but it was hard not wanting more from someone who made me feel so good."

Hoseok heavy-blinks, gazing around the bar, at people standing and sitting, talking and shouting about this or that. He idly traces his fingertips over the hems of Jeongguk's baggy jeans, trying to sort out what he should do.

On the one hand, he really wants to try to make Yoongi hand over control and grovel for him. But he also feels sad for his friend.

Jeongguk seems to have gotten lost in his mind again, and Hoseok is no better. He still has so many questions, but it is hard to pull any one of them coherently to the surface.

Finally, Jeongguk sits up straight, removing his legs from Hoseok's lap while muttering, "I think I'm going to venture out and find a sweet potato vendor."

"Okay," Hoseok says, mind still swirling with all the new information. He is definitely drunk enough to call it a night, but he also considers joining Jeongguk on his quest. "Yeah, okay, I think I would also like a sweet potato."

As Hoseok and Jeongguk venture out into the night, the details of events become foggy. He stumbles down the sidewalk for an indeterminate amount of time, and suddenly he is at a food cart, pulling notes from his wallet in exchange for a piping hot, foil-wrapped sweet potato.

Next, he is at a small metal table sitting next to Jeongguk, typing a haphazard text message to Namjoon that reads, Eating a sweet potato and thinking of you. Because you are semi-sweet and also thicc. You and Jeongguk would make a cute couple btw!

Then he is shivering, still at the same small table, answering a phone call from Yoongi. He hugs his arms around himself tight while Jeongguk stumbles off into the night, toward his apartment two blocks away – also in the direction Hoseok lives.

"You sure you don't need a ride?" Yoongi asks, voice deep and caring.

"I'm like three blocks away," Hoseok insists, getting up to stumble in the direction of his drunk friend. "It would take you longer to come to me than it would take me to walk there."

Yoongi hums. “At least stay on the phone with me while you walk?”

Hoseok grins, ignoring the fluttering of his heart as he mutters, “Geez, obsessed with me, much?”

"Excuse me for caring," Yoongi responds, sounding somewhat affronted.

Hoseok chuckles and walks slowly, watching his feet meet brick, attempting but failing to step on as few cracks as possible. He smiles and says, "I don't know, I'm drunk enough that I might start saying regrettable things."

There is a pause, followed by, "Such as…?"

"Such as that I know you used to fuck my friend," Hoseok giggles, squeezing his eyes closed for a second because he knows he must have pushed Yoongi's buttons. "He told me all about your moves, Yoongi, and how you pretty much used the same formula that you're using with me. Which begs the question…which cute newcomer will take my spot, and how long do I have before I'm dropped like a hot little sweet potato?"

The sigh on the other end of the line is so audible, Hoseok can picture the downturn in Yoongi's eyes and the way his lips slightly frown while he is thinking.

When he says nothing, Hoseok continues, "See, I warned you," dragging each vowel out dramatically.

"And what would you like me to say, Hoseok? Shall I call Jeongguk and apologize to him?"

"Nah," Hoseok responds, glancing up at brick buildings, pleased that he is still stumbling the correct way. "That would just piss him off."

Ahead, Jeongguk has stopped to lean against a tree and light a cigarette, and Hoseok makes note of the way his flat tummy curves from the way he stands slightly hunched over before his hips are swallowed whole by baggy jeans. He pictures Yoongi's large hands pressing on those hips, and the way Jeongguk must have gasped so sweetly.

Then, Hoseok shakes his head, attempting to dispel the thought; he needs to get laid.

"But you have some reason for bringing this up?" Yoongi asks.

With a sigh, Hoseok says, "I just hate to think my days are numbered. It's exciting to have caught your attention, but it seems," he drags the word out playfully, "that your attention is fleeting."

"We can talk about this when we're both sober," Yoongi mutters lowly.

Not wanting Jeongguk to overhear Hoseok talking to Yoongi, he stops in his tracks. Sadness sweeps over him, and his body undulates like overcooked pasta ever so slightly in place. Although the sweet potato has bought him a little time before blacking out, he is still quite drunk.

"Are we doing anything productive tomorrow?" Hoseok whines. "These last few days of random shoots have felt pointless, and…I might throw up."

"You might throw up tonight from being drunk, or tomorrow from being bored?" Yoongi clarifies.

"Honestly…" Hoseok screws up his face, thinking it over. "Both."

Yoongi chuckles. "I can't believe my top model is calling in sick because he was out drinking all night."

Hoseok is quick to push the blame. "You got me drunk first!"

Yoongi laughs, and it is a pretty, rich deep melody that causes Hoseok to sway. Then he says, "Seok…you know tomorrow is Saturday, right?"

Relief washes over Hoseok, and he nearly stumbles to his knees. "Oh, thank god."

"I would like to see you briefly, tomorrow, though," Yoongi adds. "If you are available. Seokjin would like to iron out a contract and have everything set in stone as quickly as possible so that he can move forward with your next round of Dior shoots. We can meet up in the evening, if you prefer?"

Ahead, Jeongguk has continued to walk home, so Hoseok continues, as well.

"Were these random ass shoots just your excuse to keep seeing me?" Hoseok asks coyly.

"Hoseok," Yoongi drawls, making Hoseok inhale deeply as a tingle works over his body from the sound. He hums in response, and Yoongi continues, "Please stay on topic. Will you be available to sign the contract tomorrow?"

Hoseok grins. "Only if you can admit that you kept me around this week just to see me."

"I would rather talk about my feelings for you once we are sober and you have that contract with Seokjin signed."

"Your feelings for me," Hoseok mutters, mostly to himself.

There is a pause, followed by Yoongi asking, "Are you home yet?"

Hoseok stares at the silhouettes of trees and square buildings ahead, the darkness broken by glowing street lamps. "One more block,"

"I could have picked you up by now."

Hoseok sighs. "You totally could not have. And anyway, I wanted to walk."

"Were you dishonest about how far the walk is? Or are you having a more leisurely stroll than usual?"

"Jeongguk stopped ahead and I didn't want to catch up to him while on the phone with you."

Yoongi sighs. "How long have you known that Jeongguk and I have a past?"

In far too chipper of a tone, Hoseok says, "Since the day I was hired."

Yoongi says nothing, and Hoseok wishes he could see his expression. At this point, he is too intoxicated to care whether he could be pushing Yoongi away. He still believes that no matter what, he will have a shot at fucking him at least once.

It is not as if Hoseok has any interest in pursuing anything more with him.

"Almost there," Hoseok chirps. He has a pep in his step now that his building is in view. It feels like ages since he has taken a nice hot shower, and he desperately wants to wash his face. "Oh, Hey, boss?"

Yoongi hums.

"Do you need this outfit back? Can you, like…deduct it from my paycheck, or something? Namjoon really put his babussy into this fit, and I might want to wear it again."

With a sigh, Yoongi mutters, "It's yours. Keep it."

"Thanks, boss. But how much do you think—"

"I'm not charging you for it, Hoseok. You're correct that it suits you well. Keep it."

Hoseok's cheeks warm, and he grins, raising his shoulders to his ears with glee and dropping them down. He makes his voice as soft as possible as he says, "Thanks, boss. You're too sweet."

Yoongi grunts, making Hoseok quietly laugh to himself. Either he has struck a nerve with Yoongi, the man is very tired, or both.

"Alright, I'm walking up to the front door of my building. I'm home safe. You don't need to stay on the line any longer."

"Hoseok," Yoongi says, making him stop with his hand lifted to the knob, key dangling between his fingers. "Tomorrow, will you come discuss a new contract with Seokjin and I?"

"Oh," he mutters, sliding his key into the knob and twisting it open. "Yeah. Tomorrow evening is fine."

"Wonderful. I'll bring a lawyer along so that we can get everything finalized quickly."

Hoseok makes his way to the stairwell, slowly taking each step. "And then we'll celebrate?"

A pause, then, "How would you like to celebrate, Hoseok?"

Hoseok hums, making a show of the fact that he is giving this matter very serious thought, despite only one thing running through his head.

"A kiss," he finally says, biting his lip as he shuffles down the hallway to his door. The closer he gets to his apartment, the heavier his limbs feel.

"Alright," Yoongi grumbles, making Hoseok grin. "I will kiss you to celebrate."

Hoseok punches his code into the keypad beside his door, and when it clicks open, he lets out a long, happy sigh. Home at last.

"I'm in my apartment now. Gonna strip out of these clothes and take a nice, hot shower."

Yoongi makes no sound, so Hoseok continues.

"Maybe while I'm in there, I'll think about earlier, at the restaurant, with my foot pressed between your legs."

Yoongi sighs, and Hoseok steps from his shoes, feeling victorious.

"I felt how hard you got under my toes. You liked it, boss."

"I did," Yoongi admits, voice low.

"I liked it, too."

"Yeah?"

Hoseok shrugs out of the blazer and delicately drapes it over the back of his couch, then he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder as he begins to unbuckle his belt.

"Yeah. The way your lips parted and eyes widened, so faint and so eager to hold your pleasure in. Beautiful."

"I could say the same for you," Yoongi responds, voice breathy. Hoseok wonders if he is touching himself. "I saw how affected you became."

"I want to see you like that when you're not having to hold back," Hoseok practically moans. "I want to make you unravel."

Yoongi hums and Hoseok holds his breath, waiting for whatever delicious thing he may have to offer.

But then he says, "We should talk about this when we're sober."

With a sigh, Hoseok's body feels worn and heavy; his spirits feel dashed.

"You're right," he mutters. "Good night, boss."

"See you tomorrow, Hoseok."

Hoseok lowers the phone from his ear, grumbling, "See ya," as he hangs up.

* * *

Despite the joyous occasion, Yoongi behaves rather coldly.

At first, Hoseok chalks it up to the fact that Seokjin and a lawyer are present to draw a new contract for his modeling representation. The document is straightforward; Seokjin insists on taking almost no money from Hoseok for his services, citing that he makes more than enough being Yoongi's personal goon – a word he says playfully, with a wink.

They discuss long-term plans that stretch further than Hoseok's employment with M Magazine, should he move on to other publications, and everything feels official and exciting in a way Hoseok hasn't experienced since he graduated from college as a fresh face getting scouted by seedy, desperate photographers and art directors.

But even as they bow to the lawyer and bid him farewell, there is something sour looming over Yoongi, like a bitter little stormcloud threatening to burst at any moment and become everyone else's problem. Seokjin even nudges him, attempting to crack jokes, but he rarely smiles, and he hardly makes eye contact with Hoseok.

It feels like whiplash after how playful he was last night, and Hoseok hovers around the sofa, not feeling welcome enough to sit, but not sure whether he should leave. Until finally, Yoongi stretches and yawns, and Hoseok sees that as an opening.

"Well, you're tired," he says, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his pressed, black fitted slacks. "I'm tired, as well. So I think I'll head out."

"Yah, Hoseokah!" Seokjin barks. "We should celebrate!"

A yawn works its way from Hoseok's chest, and he lifts his hand to cover his mouth. Seokjin flinches away as if he is at risk of catching some kind of virus from a yawn and frowns.

"We could schedule something for next weekend," he suggests. "Or whenever all of us are free."

"All of us are free right now," Seokjin insists. "Yoongichi, you don't have any extravagant dates planned, do you?"

Yoongi shakes his head, but his eyes are glued to his phone. He seems stressed out, and frankly, it annoys Hoseok. It feels rude to build up his excitement to see him this evening, only for him to act completely indifferent to Hoseok's presence.

"Why don't we all go out to celebrate once Seokjin and I have our first round of Dior shoots under our belt?" Hoseok recommends.

Yoongi nods, eyes never leaving his phone, and Seokjin sighs but agrees.

"Alright, sounds like a plan."

"Cool," Hoseok says, nodding listlessly, "then I'm going to head out."

Finally, Yoongi lifts his head to look at Hoseok fully. And for a split, brief, teeny tiny moment, Hoseok thinks Yoongi might finally be direct with him. But then his eyes fall back to his phone as he grumbles, "I'm glad the three of us could sort this out."

"Need a ride?" Seokjin asks.

Hoseok shrugs but happily says, "I would appreciate it."

Seokjin approaches Yoongi and mutters something lowly before giving him a slap on the shoulder, which Yoongi more or less seems to ignore. Then he makes his way to the door, where Hoseok trails along to slide into the pretty black loafers he wore just last night.

Hoseok does not say goodbye to Yoongi, and when they step into the elevator, he lets out a sigh.

"I hate when he gets preoccupied," Seokjin complains.

Hoseok chuckles. "It's honestly pretty rude."

Hoseok pulls out his phone and sends Yoongi a message—

Hoseok The way you hardly looked at me tonight is absolutely crazy. I no longer want that celebratory kiss.

—then tucks the device into his pocket. He does not expect a response to come any time soon.

"I love him, and he's a great businessman, but he is kind of an idiot," Seokjin says, making Hoseok laugh. "He has no fucking interpersonal communication skills."

It feels good to laugh, and Hoseok does not hold back. He bends in half, gripping his knees as the cords of his untied black, silk modern hanbok hang past his knees. He has to apologize to someone once the doors slide open and he steps forward, nearly barreling into them.

"Geez, it's not that funny," Seokjin complains despite still laughing.

"Oh, it definitely is," Hoseok insists as they make their way out into the evening.

* * *

Hoseok does not hear from Yoongi for the rest of the night while he is out with his friends at the club, nor the entirety of Sunday while he is letting Jimin distract him with brunch and shopping.

And by Monday morning, when there is still no word, Hoseok decides he no longer cares. He has a shoot later in the morning with Yoongi, and he begrudgingly gets out of bed and goes through his routine as if it were a standard early morning, with the plan of stopping by his favorite cafe for a sweet treat and a latte.

The weather is hot but not stifling, and Hoseok wears the same flowing black silk modern hanbok top he wore to Yoongi's place on Saturday, untied over a tight black tank top and mid-length, black wool shorts. And, of course, his favorite new chunky black leather loafers. He tucks his phone, keys, wallet, and lip balm into a small black handbag and sets out for the day with a forced smile.

And truthfully, the cafe trip does wonders for the residual sour mood Yoongi had put Hoseok in, leaving him in a much more positive headspace. That is until he arrives at the studio.

The familiar sights and sounds are like a weight on Hoseok's shoulders, but he holds his head high and makes a beeline through the expansive studio space to his sanctuary. The makeup room.

Upon entering, Hoseok finds Seokjin and Namjoon standing by a metal rack of clothing, sifting through outfits. He sets his coffee down on the long vanity counter by the mirror wall and prances over to see what they have in store for him.

"Yoongi wants us to start with this," Seokjin says as he pulls out a charcoal grey blazer and matching slacks.

Hoseok wonders if this is the grey wide-legged pant that Yoongi said he thinks Hoseok will look stunning in. He rolls his eyes at the memory, then smiles widely as he chirps, "Looks great, Jinnie-hyung!"

It takes no time at all for Namjoon to have Hoseok dressed in the grey suit with his hair slicked back and his face made up. By now, they have the process down to a science; Hoseok hardly has a chance to get comfortable in the makeup chair.

They opt not to pair the outfit with jewelry, but Hoseok wears black and white sneakers that he is not a fan of for this type of outfit. This look is currently all the rage with these high-end brands, and does not understand why.

"I'll let Yoongichi know we're ready for him," Seokjin says as he leaves the room, and Hoseok gives a thumbs-up.

"Wow, so Seokjin-hyung is your agent?" Namjoon asks.

Hoseok swivels around in his tall, black chair and smiles widely. "Yeah! I'm excited. He seems very knowledgeable and dedicated, and he doesn't want to take all my earnings."

"Of course, he doesn't," Namjoon chuckles. "The co-founder of M Magazine undoubtedly makes a pretty penny."

"Co-founder?" Hoseok asks, shocked. "Yoongi only mentioned he was previously an agent and then shifted gears to work as his assistant goon."

Namjoon shrugs. "Seokjin-hyung has always done a little of everything, with the exception of photography. He has an eye for beauty and design, but prefers the more tedious duties that come with being an assistant. I think he likes being useful. And he tends to feign modesty, which is why nobody refers to him as the co-founder."

That checks out, and Hoseok nods. "Well, I am glad I have a use for him. Gotta get to stardom somehow!"

"Trust me," Namjoon says, leaning close. "You will."

Hoseok visibly swoons, causing Namjoon to lean away with regret painted on his face. "You're the sweetest, Joon Baboon!"

A deep, impassive voice cuts through the joy, with one simple word.

"Ready?"

Hoseok turns to find Yoongi standing in the doorway dressed in a white blazer unbuttoned over a white dress shirt, with matching white shorts, tall black socks, and black loafers. His hair is slicked back, combed behind his ears, there is a pair of black glasses tucked into the neck of his shirt, and he wears a scowl on his pretty face. His trusty camera is in his hand, strap wrapped around his wrist, and his eyebrows are raised high with impatience.

"Sure thing," Hoseok says flatly, mood instantly killed.

He slides from his chair and follows Yoongi out, into the studio, to the corner where he prefers to shoot, near the bottom of the steps that lead up to his office.

There is nothing for Hoseok to pose on or near, so he just stands against the dark backdrop, angling his body and elongating his neck and limbs. Yoongi shoots quickly, stepping back and moving forward, eye glued to the viewfinder.

When he finally does glance over the camera, it is to say, "Give me a little movement, like a twirl but with one foot kicking outward."

Hoseok does some twirls and kicks, accentuating the loose cut of the slacks and doing his best to embody fluidity. He feels as if these shots will be magnificent, and he waits for Yoongi to crack a smile and tell him he is doing well.

But instead, Yoongi drops his hands to his sides and says, "That's good," then he lifts his camera high enough to begin sifting through the photos.

On the breast of Yoongi's jacket is a pretty white flower that stands out in the bright glow of the box lights, and Hoseok curses himself for wanting to rub his palms across it, heavy-blinking to avert his eyes.

"New outfit?" Hoseok asks.

Yoongi shrugs. "If you have time for more, sure."

"If I have time?" Hoseok bites back. "I've barely been here for an hour."

Yoongi continues to flip through photos, making Hoseok wonder if he heard him at all. Then he says, "Yeah, whatever your agent wants," and walks off.

"What the fuck," Hoseok mutters under his breath as he turns and stomps back toward the makeup room. This behavior has him wishing he would have stepped on Yoongi's balls a little harder at the sushi restaurant.

Seokjin already has outfits laid out when Hoseok returns, and he is changed into more casual wear, sporting an array of hoodies, cardigans, and handbags. Yoongi is just as standoffish, giving Hoseok almost nothing to work with, but he continues to change shirts and pose, doing his best.

And then, suddenly, Yoongi's phone rings loud and shrill, making everyone but himself flinch. He sighs and stops what he is doing, muttering, "One moment, sorry."

Yoongi's phone is typically always on vibrate while at work, and he absolutely never drops everything to answer the call. How uncouth, Hoseok thinks, standing under the warm lights with his hands on his hips while Yoongi walks several paces away, talking lowly into his phone.

As soon as he returns, Yoongi mutters, "Something has come up, but it seems like we shot everything we need. Thanks for everything. Great job today." He only spares Hoseok a quick glance, and then he turns to walk up the stairs to his office.

Hoseok sighs, nods to himself, and begins back toward the makeup room. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Seori rushes in through the front doors of the building, dressed in a light pink hoodie and sweatpants and looking frazzled. She makes a beeline for the steps and runs to the top, where she quickly knocks but does not bother to wait before walking into Yoongi's office and closing the door behind her.

The feeling that swirls in Hoseok's tummy is envy mixed with something else – something even more bitter. Something numbing. He can't quite put his thumb on it, but he chooses not to dwell on it.

Until he enters the makeup room with a heavy sigh, and – upon realizing only Namjoon is present – begins to crumble emotionally. Despite feeling the desire to cry, tears only prickle gently around the edges of his lids but never fully gather. More than anything, he just feels defeated.

"I didn't follow your advice, okay," he admits, taking Namjoon somewhat by surprise as he throws himself on the makeup chair. "I should go home. I need to clear my head. I feel so—"

"What happened?" Namjoon asks kindly, approaching with his arms loosely crossed over his chest.

"You warned me about that man, and I listened! I really did! But my heart and my body did not, and now I feel like I am a marionette hanging from strings eager for a master. But rather than tug on my strings and make me dance, he just fucking leaves me hanging."

"That's…a beautifully pathetic analogy," Namjoon mutters, dimples on display.

Hoseok attempts to swat at the handsome man, but Namjoon simply leans slightly back, avoiding his fingertips.

"I don't even care about being in a relationship with him," Hoseok mutters somewhat under his breath. "Like, I'm foolish, but I'm not that stupid. I just…ugh! He…ugh!"

Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head. It is not the laugh of a man who wants Hoseok to feel foolish, but one of a man who has likely had this conversation this time and time again.

"He charms in his own way," Namjoon says. "And then he puts up a wall when he thinks he is getting close to someone. It's like he's terrified of just allowing himself to open up to people."

"Why?" Hoseok sighs.

Namjoon shrugs. "No idea. There's no shocking character reveal or tragic backstory, you know? Yeah, his parents are wealthy and they don't hover, but they are kind and supportive. His relationship with his brother is casual and positive. Aside from his playboy tendencies, he is a great person to work with, and a great person to work for. No gambling problems, no drinking problems, no sordid past. He just…doesn't like to commit to anyone."

Another sigh pours from Hoseok's mouth, this one drawn out with a groan. He drops his head back dramatically, feeling extra annoyed – exorbitantly annoyed.

Hoseok finds nothing inherently wrong with having commitment issues or with preferring to sleep around without strings attached. He and his friend group have always been pretty loose with hooking up, and it has never caused drama because they all know where they stand with one another.

But it is frustrating that the result is a lack of empathy and poor communication. Hoseok is fine with being someone's piece of ass on the down low, but he needs to know where he stands. And it annoys Hoseok that, rather than finding a reason to hate Yoongi and make the idea of backing away from him feel easier, he really sympathizes with the guy.

Hoseok laughs to himself, despite feeling little joy. "If he wanted to just fuck around, I wouldn't even object. And I have been rather forward with suggesting I am open to it, but he just clams up and doesn't say anything."

"Mmhmm," Namjoon grumbles in a tone that suggests he knows this all too well.

"Whatever," Hoseok sighs. "We did well today, and although he was the opposite of helpful or encouraging, I feel good about the shoots. So I suppose I could call it a day."

Namjoon nods and seems to glance at the time on his phone. "Seokjin left during the last shoot – said he had some important business to deal with – but he asked me to tell you that you are amazing, and doing great, and that he looks forward to going over the photos with you and Yoongi. He also says to take some time off and he will contact you with a schedule some time this week."

This time, the sigh that Hoseok lets out is one of relief. Relief to have an agent who is receptive and feels positively about the work they are doing. Relief to have some time off to relax, pamper himself, and get some fucking space from Yoongi.

He changes back into his black tank top, silk hanbok top, shorts, and loafers. With his arms hanging open, he convinces Namjoon to lean in for a semi-awkward hug, and thanks him for all his hard work. Then he opens that door with a fortifying breath and sets out toward the front doors, eager to get home and unwind.

The studio is quiet, with only one photographer and model on set in the far left corner. Hoseok does not even look their way, eager to reach the sliding glass doors. And he almost does, before he hears a familiar voice call for him.

"Jung Hoseok-ssi."

Hoseok physically recoils from the sound, closing his eyes to take a deep, annoyed breath. He was so close to making it outside – just a couple more feet from freedom.

With a plastered smile, Hoseok spins, asking, "Yes, boss?" as he searches for the source of the voice.

Yoongi stands at the top of the stairs, arms straight down at his sides. He asks, "Do you have a moment?"

Hoseok nods and makes his way through the large studio space, heart betraying him in a frantic dance the closer he gets. He wonders if there will be any visible trace of Seori on Yoongi's skin or any lingering scent of perfume.

With each footfall up to Yoongi's office, Hoseok feels his body undergo more and more duress. His legs and hands tremble, his palms begin to prickle, his breathing feels labored. Yoongi turns and enters his office as Hoseok gets close, and once he reaches the top, he takes a fortifying inhale.

"Yes?" Hoseok asks, attempting to come off as impassively as possible.

"Close the door, please," Yoongi says, making his way toward his desk.

Hoseok closes the door and gives himself a second to collect his composure before turning toward Yoongi and approaching. He expects to find Yoongi sitting at his chair, but instead, he is on the corner of his desk, half-sitting with one foot suspended somewhat, and his arms crossed over his chest.

"I owe you an apology," Yoongi says. His hair is all in place, and there is no sign on his clothing or skin that might suggest anything transpired with Seori.

Still, Hoseok scoffs, nods, and says, "Yeah, you do."

"I understand that sometimes my behavior can be a bit…" Yoongi takes a moment to choose his words, and Hoseok opts to fill in the blank for him.

"Confusing. Frustrating. Demeaning."

"Distant," Yoongi provides.

"Distant," Hoseok parrots with a humorless chuckle. "Sure, yeah, that's certainly one way to put it."

There is sincerity in his rich tone as Yoongi drops his arms to his sides and says, "I'm sorry."

"You could have at least sent a reassuring text message. Or even an apology. Any kind of communication at all."

"My distracted state the other night was nothing personal, but I should have given you a heads up that I had a lot on my plate."

"The other night, all weekend, all day," Hoseok corrects, allowing himself to feel the full range of his anger. "Not one word. You gave me nothing."

Yoongi sighs and slowly stands, remaining leaned against his desk.

"And, look, I don't feel like you owe me an explanation," Hoseok says, eager to make his desires clear. "But a simple heads up would be nice. I know that you and I are not an item, and I don't care that we aren't – that's not my goal with you. But don't let me play footsie with your cock under the table and tease me with promises of a kiss, but then give me the cold shoulder."

Something in Yoongi's gaze shifts – darkens. His lips part, and his stance relaxes.

"So what is it that you want?" Yoongi asks.

"Truthfully?" Hoseok says, and Yoongi nods. "More than anything, I want a healthy work relationship. I want to excel in my field and become a supermodel, and I know that you and your team have the means to do that for me."

Yoongi nods, cracking a smile, filling Hoseok with pride and encouraging him to continue voicing his desires. "I also want to lay you out on your big, expensive desk, and fuck your brains out."

Yoongi's lips part wide in a gasp. It is subtle the way blush rises to his pretty cheeks, but even in the dim light of his office, Hoseok can make out a shift in hue.

"I'm not interested in having strings attached," Yoongi says with the lift of an eyebrow as if in warning.

"No shit," Hoseok scoffs, holding firm, challenging eye contact.

They stare at each other unmoving for only a few seconds, but those seconds drag on, thickening the air with rich, palpable tension. Hoseok slowly breathes in through his nose, allowing himself to dwell on the familiar musky and floral notes that cling to the air and drive him wild.

"Come here," Yoongi commands softly, nearly a whisper.

As if tugged by some invisible force, Hoseok stumbles forward automatically. Yoongi's thighs spread, allowing Hoseok to get nice and close, standing taller than usual with Yoongi's hips bending slightly.

Hoseok sets his handbag down on the desk and looms, drinking in the heat exchanged between them. Whereas Yoongi had the upper hand last time – pulling Hoseok near, slotting their lips together, and pressing him into the wall – this time, Hoseok intends on giving him zero control.

"Tell me what you want from me," Hoseok says, placing his hands on the edges of the desk and leaning close enough to smell the sweetness of Yoongi's breath.

Yoongi's eyes fall to Hoseok's lips, and he very subtly smiles, saying, "I still owe you a kiss."

"You want to kiss me?"

Yoongi's lips twitch faintly. "Yes."

"Is that all?" Hoseok asks, tilting his head to the side as if giving into the command but keeping the miniscule distance between them.

"I want you, Hoseok." Yoongi's rich timbre is as deep and alluring as the ocean, and undoubtedly posing just as big of a threat. "Physically…in any way you will allow me to have you…I want you."

"If I let you have me," Hoseok says softly, annunciating every syllable with purpose, "I need at least a little communication. No fucking around with my feelings. Even without strings attached, I still have feelings, Yoongi."

Hoseok drops honorifics, wondering if Yoongi will care, and Yoongi just nods, eyes pleading. He seems genuine, but he has also seemed genuine in the past.

Still, Hoseok cannot hold back any longer. He rolls his hips forward, connecting their bodies before he connects their lips, breathing in the slight gasp that tumbles from Yoongi's mouth into his the moment their lips touch.

Yoongi sighs into the kiss, but Hoseok has no intention of going easy on him. He rolls his hips again, forcing Yoongi's thighs to spread further as he licks over his pretty lips and darts his tongue inside the small opening.

It comes as somewhat of a surprise the way Yoongi seems to melt and become pliant, hands still gripping the desk and giving Hoseok access to do as he pleases, moaning softly but unabashedly. Hoseok lifts a hand and cards it roughly into Yoongi's product-slickened hair, taking no care to prevent the strands from tugging before grabbing a handful.

With a gasp and a whimper, Yoongi's mouth falls further open, and Hoseok licks inside, darting his tongue around to taste and tease. He hums whenever their lips enclose one another, only for Yoongi to moan each time Hoseok forces him to open wide again.

Finally, Yoongi lifts his hands and grips Hoseok's hips, digging his fingertips and pulling him close. Hoseok rolls his hips again, picking up a slow but firm rhythm, connecting their clothed cocks somewhat haphazardly but with a promise to Yoongi of what could be his.

"Hoseok," Yoongi gasps against his lips, causing them to tug into a smile.

"Yes, pretty Yoongi?"

"Please," he rasps, fingertips digging with more purpose, pulling Hoseok's hips close.

"Please, what?"

With a needy sigh, Yoongi tips his head back as if gasping for air. His lips are kiss-slick, and Hoseok sucks the bottom one between his teeth, only releasing when Yoongi whimpers a high, broken sound.

"What is it, Yoongi?" Hoseok asks firmly, rubbing the tips of their noses together.

Yoongi heavy-blinks as if struggling to gather his thoughts. He lets out a breathy chuckle, and Hoseok wonders if it is some kind of nervous tick.

"I don't know," he mutters, eyes searching Hoseok's face. "I want more, but I'm not sure how we should proceed."

There is a shred of vulnerability in Yoongi's expression, laced in Yoongi's voice, that Hoseok so desperately wants to exploit.

He nibbles on his own bottom lip, backing up only enough to fully take in Yoongis's face. He wonders if it would be more exquisite to use his mouth to make Yoongi fall apart or have the other on his knees for him.

"I have an idea," Hoseok offers, cocking his head to the side before lowering to a nearby brown leather armchair.

Yoongi watches as Hoseok settles and scoots the heavy chair closer, leaning forward to press his palms against Yoongi's hips through the semi-soft, white wool of his trouser shorts. Yoongi's lidded gaze darkens, and he reaches slowly to graze the backs of his knuckles along Hoseok's cheek before pressing his thumb against Hoseok's bottom lip and dragging it down.

"Hoseok," Yoongi groans, taking a step forward to properly tower over him. "You have no idea how many times I have dreamed of having you like this."

Hoseok grins, nibbles on the tip of Yoongi's thumb, and opens his mouth to fully suck the digit between his lips when there is a loud knock on the door, followed by the handle rattling.

Panic rises, and Hoseok sits tall in the leather chair before instinctively slumping back. He is able to use his feet to push it back a little, putting space between himself and the desk.

Yoongi is quick to take a step back, cross one leg over the other, and fold his arms over his chest. He leans against his desk a stoic statue of a man, with his erection hidden nicely by the way he stands. Although there are subtle signs of Yoongi's lips having just been used, and his hair is somewhat out of place on one side, his expression is flat and gives absolutely nothing away.

In hindsight, Hoseok probably should have locked the door.

"Yoongi-ah," a breathy female voice calls, "I know you said our conversation was over, but I'm here to— oh."

Hoseok turns to find Seori standing with her arm outstretched, holding the office door wide open. She wears a red satin robe that falls just above her knees, and her nipples stand out beneath the thin fabric.

"Oh!" she says again, eyes darting between Yoongi and Hoseok. "I'm so— I'm sorry. I had no idea you were busy."

"What do you want?" Yoongi asks, running a hand over the hair that had come untucked behind his ear, flattening it somewhat.

Hoseok focuses his attention on his boss, impressed by how measured and blank Yoongi can become in an instant. Absolutely nothing gives away the heated exchange they shared only moments earlier, nor any hint of interest in the model.

"Can I, uh…talk to you?" Seori asks.

Yoongi gives a curt nod and steps away from the desk, arms falling limply at his sides. And despite the hushed way in which Seori speaks on the other end of the room, the sound travels just enough for Hoseok to detect.

"Please, I just want—"

"I told you, we're finished. Please accept that."

"But Yoongi, I—"

Yoongi speaks low and soft, but loud enough that Hoseok questions whether he wants to be overheard. "Please don't ruin your career over a brief tryst. You are a fine model, and I would hate to lose you because you cannot take no for an answer."

Whatever the woman says next is too pitchy and distraught for Hoseok to make out. He feels awkward eavesdropping now, cursing himself once more for not locking the door. Yoongi's voice drops to an octave that is undetectable at this distance, and soon the office door is clicking shut.

An exasperated sigh pulls Hoseok's attention, and he turns to find Yoongi standing with his face tipped to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. Really, Yoongi has no one to blame but himself for this mess, yet Hoseok finds he feels for the man.

"Wanna get out of here?" he offers.

Yoongi snaps his gaze to Hoseok, instantly relaxing. Hoseok stands from the chair and fully faces Yoongi, but does not approach, watching as the man studies his face, seeming to weigh his options.

Then he nods and says, "Yeah. Let's go."

Hoseok smooths his hands down his shorts and gathers his handbag while Yoongi quickly crosses the room and shuts off his monitor. He does not touch Hoseok as they leave, and Hoseok gives him space to lock up and walk down the steps toward the exit.

Across the room, Seori is on the phone, and she seems distressed. Hoseok glances at Yoongi, watching whether or not the man seems concerned, unsurprised when he does not. As they approach the door, within earshot of the model, Yoongi turns to Hoseok, expression as flat as can be, and begins to talk shop.

"So, as I said," he mutters just loud enough to be overheard, "once we have the greenlight from Dior, Seokjin and I will sit down with you to discuss what the next steps are. There is talk of another brand scouting you, but I think Seokjin should be the one to deliver the good news."

By the time Yoongi finishes his sentence, they are outside. The air is far cooler now that the sun is beginning to set, and Hoseok's shoulders rise instinctively as he shivers through an exhale. He wonders if what Yoongi just said about another brand scouting him is really true, or just something he made up on the fly.

Yoongi walks to the left, where his vehicle is parked on the curb, and Hoseok follows suit, slipping into the passenger seat as soon as the door is unlocked and making haste to buckle his seatbelt. No words are exchanged as Yoongi presses the ignition start button and drives off, and Hoseok sits back in the cool leather seat, accepting his fate.

Despite his attempts at fortifying his heart, Hoseok acknowledges that a small part of him does wonder what it would be like to be the only object of Yoongi's affection. Beyond his money and status in the industry, he imagines what it would be like to receive consistent, uninhibited attention from a man like Yoongi.

The ride remains silent until Yoongi pulls up to the curb outside his apartment, puts the car into park, and sits back with a heavy exhale.

"Seok," he grumbles, pulling Hoseok's attention. He likes that the nickname has returned, and he does his best to ignore the way goosebumps break out over his skin. "Out of an abundance of transparency, I just want to state that I am not currently, uh, seeing anyone else."

Hoseok has no idea what to say, so instead he stares. Despite Yoongi's innate ability to keep his expressions measured and cool, there are small tells that give away his nervousness, like the way he slightly darts his tongue across his bottom lip, and how his eyes seem to focus in and out while he thinks.

"Seori may seem like a current and constant nuisance, but she and I only hooked up once, months ago. I don't want to reduce her worth by calling it a drunken mistake, but that genuinely is all that the experience was. And, well, I don't want to point any blame, but it seems that your presence in the studio has caused her to ramp up her attempts at repeating what we did."

Yoongi sighs, screwing up his face as if he is pained as he says, "The other day, when I was on my phone during the contract signing, I was attempting to assuage her anger with me giving you the cover, as well as inside ads."

"You were text-fighting with her all evening?" Hoseok asks with more of an edge to his voice than he intended, because, truth be told, he is a bit angry that Yoongi felt he couldn't just say something.

"My reputation is somewhat exaggerated. I do not come onto every model I hire, but because I am not one to get caught in a dating scandal, rumors fly in favor of me appearing to be a fuckboy. I do occasionally give in to desire, and I am sure your friend Jeongguk has a story of his own…but it is never my intention to use people up and toss them aside."

"He told me the two of you were hooking up until Seori showed up and you dropped him like a sweet potato."

"So you alluded to, the other night." The edges of Yoongi's lips raise for the splittest of seconds, and then he sighs once more. "That was bad timing, at best. Jeongguk was fun to spend time with, but he was clingy and seemed to want a relationship, which I was not willing to provide."

"Clingy," Hoseok mutters, chuckling at the end of the word.

"I don't necessarily mean it in a bad way."

Hoseok tongues the inside of his mouth, voice low as he says, "Well, he seems pretty hurt."

"It's not like I dropped Jeongguk abruptly. We spoke about it on several occasions, but I admit, he was a hard one to let go of. We had fun."

With a slow, heavy exhale, Hoseok mutters, "Alright, well…I'm still annoyed with you for ignoring me all night, and all weekend, and... You could have at least clued me in a little."

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Yoongi drops his voice lower, "but Seori was attempting to blackmail me. She thought threats of defamation would put me in her palm, and although I have immaculate legal counsel, the whole thing put me in a sour headspace. You are right that I should have said something to you."

Hoseok hums, taking the information in, unsure what to say.

"I tell you all of this because I was thinking about the other night, at the sushi restaurant, just before your shoe happened to be tucked tight between my legs. You were asking whether I was kissing and spoiling any other models."

A shiver runs along Hoseok's spine at the memory, and he watches Yoongi's lips as he says, "I'm only spoiling you."

Hoseok wants to believe him. He thinks he really does believe him. But he is still determined to only give so much, and not allow himself to get too swept up in whatever Yoongi is trying to do.

If Yoongi is so eager to insist they are exclusive, where does the line draw between fucking and dating? It is no wonder Jeongguk seemed to misunderstand their arrangement, and Hoseok worries he will end up in the same position.

"Okay," is all Hoseok says because his heart whooshes so loudly in his ears that it is hard to form a more coherent thought.

"Seok," Yoongi mutters, formed like a question, "what's on your mind?"

"I want to go upstairs," Hoseok says somewhat robotically, eyes lingering on Yoongi's lips.

He watches as the tip of Yoongi's tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip, and he fights the overwhelming urge to lean forward and suck it between his teeth.

"Alright," Yoongi says. "Let's go upstairs."

Hoseok forgets he is wearing a seatbelt as he reaches for the handle and attempts to get out of the vehicle, finding himself momentarily trapped and flustered. Once he is finally free, he joins Yoongi on the sidewalk, attempting to be as calm as possible as they make their way through the lobby to the elevator.

Hoseok remembers Jeongguk saying Yoongi bent him over the couch in his studio, causing his stomach to tie in knots. He is not eager to have a repeated experience that his friend had.

Thankfully, Yoongi seems to have other plans. He holds his key to the pad in the elevator and hits the number five. Hoseok stares at the round button glowing with a golden ring.

He wonders how the apartment level differs from the studio level. How does Yoongi furnish his home? What kind of vibe is he into?

As the elevator dings, Hoseok sucks in a breath. He grips onto the straps of his handbag while the doors slide open, and Yoongi walks into the small hallway first, kicking out of his loafers and leaving them near tidy rows of shoes. Hoseok does the same and sets his handbag by his shoes while Yoongi enters the code to the door into the keypad.

For some inexplicable reason, the beeping sounds from the keypad seem louder than usual. Hoseok swallows thickly and licks his lips as Yoongi opens the door, switches on a dim overhead light, and shuffles into his home.

Hoseok is not at all surprised to find that everything is black and grey. The floors, the rugs, the walls, the furniture, are all black, with grey curtains and silver accents that add hints of lightness.

The entire far wall is a window, allowing a gradient of light to pour in from the setting sun, and hanging from the high ceilings are rectangular light fixtures, from which dim golden light glows, illuminating the space nicely.

From the marble floors, to the plush rugs and matte-finished woods, the textures are so rich and varied that everything appears to be its own shade of black, especially with the golden glow of the overhead lights. Plush, soft couches make a large u-shape in front of the massive window, and sprawled over black tables and shelves are books, various camera equipment, and file folders.

"Wow, so bright and colorful," Hoseok chides as Yoongi leads him to the right, toward the large open kitchen – the same placement as in the studio downstairs.

"What can I say, I'm a man of simple tastes," Yoongi drawls over his shoulder. "Water?" he asks, tugging open the door of a massive black refrigerator. "Soju? Whiskey? Beer?"

Yoongi looks over his shoulder, illuminated by the bright white glow of his fridge. He has given Hoseok too many options, and he finds he cannot choose.

"Water is fine," he mutters when Yoongi impatiently lifts his eyebrows. "Unless you want a little something to take the edge off."

Hoseok feels nervous – why does he feel nervous? His hands fidget in the wide sleeves of his hanbok top, and he finds his gaze wandering around the apartment, unable to stay in one place. Perhaps it is the conversation in the car that has caused the excitement from earlier to shift into nervous energy.

"I don't have an edge to take off," Yoongi responds. "Do you have an edge?"

This kitchen is not as barren as the one in the studio. Yoongi appears to have every appliance known to man, all neatly in place along countertops and storage shelves. This place actually appears lived in and cared for, and Hoseok finds the enveloping darkness surprisingly calming.

"No," he lies, realizing he had been stuck in his head. "No edge."

Yoongi chuckles and closes the fridge empty-handed, then he moves to the right, to where cabinets sit tall above a large sink, and he produces two shot glasses and a large glass. As he turns on the sink and switches on a filter that is attached to the faucet, he glances over his shoulder and nods to a nearby cabinet, saying, "You seem to have a slight edge. Pick your poison and we'll do a shot to loosen up."

To the right of the sink, above the countertop, is a cabinet with a glass window showcasing several bottles of whiskey. Hoseok finds a Japanese one with an inviting white and black label and pulls it out while Yoongi shuts off the sink and sets down a tall glass of water.

"Nice pick," Yoongi says as he reaches for the bottle, uncorks the top, and pours two shots.

Hoseok inches nice and close – close enough to smell the cologne Yoongi wears – and reaches for one of the shots. They clink the glasses together softly and shoot the liquid back, and although it is rich and smooth, the strength makes Hoseok wince, which in turn makes Yoongi chuckle.

"It's good," Hoseok insists, feeling somewhat embarrassed despite having no reason to be. "Just strong."

"One more?" Yoongi asks, leaning close. "Or is your edge softened?"

"One more," Hoseok responds, tipping his chin upward in a challenge. "I wanna taste it on your tongue."

Yoongi snickers then pours two more shots, which they quickly drink back, and this time, Hoseok does not react as strongly to the earthy, semi-sweet flavor. This time, he picks up hints of caramel and enjoys the way it settles over him like a warm hug.

Ordinarily, two shots are hardly enough to make Hoseok feel anything but warm and energized. But he only ate breakfast today, a realization that makes him feel somewhat foolish, all things considered, and the whiskey has a bit of an effect on him.

Hoseok feels light around the edges. Fuzzy tendrils of frenetic energy erupt from him like tiny solar flares ignited by Japanese whiskey and Yoongi's proximity. He places his hands against Yoongi's hips and turns him until his ass is against the counter, then he slides his hands to rest against the countertop, caging Yoongi in like he had in his office.

"Kiss me," he whispers, elated as Yoongi obeys immediately, leaning close to lick over Hoseok's lips and then part his own.

Hoseok sucks Yoongi's bottom lip into his mouth, smiling as he whimpers. He licks over Yoongi's tongue, tasting remnants of heady caramel and something far sweeter and more personal. As if driven mad by the flavor, leans his body against Yoongi's to rut his hips forward.

"Bed," Yoongi mutters against Hoseok, to which Hoseok nods without disconnecting their lips. He is not ready to stop tasting Yoongi just yet. He wants to commit the flavor to memory.

Yoongi's hands find Hoseok's hips and grip tightly, working to both spur him on and calm him down. Hoseok parts the kiss with a heavy sigh and nods once more, resting his forehead against Yoongi's and allowing himself to return to earth.

Then he reaches for the cold glass of tap water and takes a long, slow gulp, hips still pressed against Yoongi with a slight twist to them. He drinks half of the glass down then holds it for Yoongi to have, and takes a step back to give both of them a little space.

Yoongi drinks then sets the glass aside, takes Hoseok's hand, and leads him through the apartment, past the large glass wall through which the sun sets into an inviting greyish blue with pink hues. The door straight ahead is open – the same place the door to Yoongi's studio can be found on the floor below – and Yoongi walks in and flips a switch that invites a soft purple glow.

Similar to the rest of the house, everything is shades of black, save for the bedding, curtains, and rugs which are forest green. Two of the walls are made of glass, allowing the light from the setting sun to pour in through sheer dark green curtains, and there is dark furniture throughout, but Hoseok's attention is on the bed – a wide mattress on a low black platform that is lifted inches from the floor, under which a purple light glows.

"You can change the color if you'd like," Yoongi offers, speaking directly into Hoseok's ear and fanning warm breath against his cheek.

Hoseok tugs Yoongi's hand toward the bed and says, "I bet purple would look nice against your skin," as they stop and face each other.

Hoseok begins to yank open Yoongi's white blazer, which absorbs the light into a pretty lilac shade, and Yoongi chuckles and takes over, very delicately removing the item and handing it to Hoseok.

"Leave it there," he instructs with a nod of his chin, and Hoseok turns to find a small armchair nearby, to the right of the bed, over which a black blazer rests. He drapes the new blazer beside the other and turns back to find Yoongi unbuttoning and untucking his white dress shirt.

With each inch of skin that Yoongi reveals, Hoseok feels his heart begin to race. He shrugs quickly from his hanbok top, tossing it in a heap onto the armchair, then yanks his tank top over his head and chucks it aside.

When his fingers reach the button of his shorts, Yoongi's large, knobby fingers stop his movements, pulling his hands away. Hoseok looks up from his interrupted task to find Yoongi shirtless and sinking to his knees.

"Let me do it," he insists.

Hoseok nods and swallows thickly, watching as Yoongi's knees are engulfed by a soft, dark green shag rug. Yoongi rubs his hands up Hoseok's thighs, causing a warmth to simmer in the pit of his tummy, and he breathes deep and slow, doing his best to maintain his composure.

As Yoongi yanks at Hoseok's shorts, pulling them past his knees, he sits high and wafts his breath against his black briefs, warm then cool on his growing erection. With his gaze directed at Hoseok's eyes, Yoongi nudges his nose and lips against him, taking deep breaths as if savoring his musk, and Hoseok reaches one hand to grip Yoongi's product-slick hair and give his head a rough tug.

Yoongi whimpers, and the sight of him on his knees, submissive and making such pretty sounds kicks Hoseok's need to tame him into overdrive. Yoongi reaches for Hoseok's waistband, but Hoseok shakes his head and says, "Hands at your sides."

With a gasp, Yoongi's eyes widen – pretty and endless depths of inviting brown. Hoseok tongues the inside of his cheek and grips Yoongi's hair a little rougher.

"You have to earn it."

"Earn it?" Yoongi responds almost sardonically, and Hoseok yanks at his head just enough to make him whimper and sigh.

"You heard me. Earn it."

"Please?" Yoongi tries, batting his long, dark lashes like a pretty little doll.

"Please, what?"

"Please let me taste you."

"Only good boys get to suck my cock, pretty Yoongi," Hoseok responds in a mocking tone. Yoongi's pupils react to his words, and Hoseok snickers. "Are you going to be a good boy for me?"

"Yes, Seok," Yoongi practically moans. "I'll be a good boy for you."

"Not just tonight," Hoseok says, tipping his head to the side and peering down at Yoongi with squinted eyes. "You're going to be good to me for as long as we do whatever it is that we are doing. No more miscommunications. No more half-truths."

"I'll be good for you," Yoongi insists, eyes wide and pleading.

"You're still my boss, so we will have to navigate that dynamic one day at a time," Hoseok continues, reaching his other hand to drag his thumb along Yoongi's bottom lip the way Yoongi did to him in his office. "As long as we are not at work, we are equals, and you will treat me as such."

"Yes, Seok," Yoongi mutters.

Hoseok gives his hair a tug and grits, "Louder," through his teeth.

"I'll be good to you, Seok," Yoongi's voice switches from coy desperation to firm insistence, deepening as he says, "Please let me be so good to you."

Hoseok's head spins. He nods and releases Yoongi's hair, then drops his arms to his sides and says, "One thing I like about you is your quick wit and sharp tongue…and I'm sure that is not the extent of what that pretty mouth can do."

Yoongi grins, then lifts his hands to paw over Hoseok's cock and grab for his waistband. Arousal soars through Hoseok – lava in his veins – and he does his best to keep his composure, whimpering softly while he holds firm eye contact with Yoongi.

That is, until he pulls Hoseok's briefs down, and Yoongi's gaze falls to his freed cock. His eyes widen, and he licks his lips as he sits high on his knees and shuffles a little closer. With slow strokes, Yoongi makes Hoseok dizzy, dragging against his foreskin before pushing it down, revealing a flushed head and length.

With a delicate flick of his bubblegum tongue, Yoongi laps up the precum that drips from Hoseok's tip, sending a shiver down his spine. Yoongi drags his lips over the tip and crown, gaze intently returning to Hoseok, teasing with feather-light touches.

Hoseok smirks down at the man – eager to knock him off his pedestal a little – and asks, "How many other pretty models have you dropped to your knees so easily for?"

Yoongi's eyes widen, burning with something Hoseok struggles to discern, and a scoff comes from between his lips. He seems incensed but so terribly aroused. Hoseok grins.

"That's what I thought," Hoseok grumbles bending as he grips Yoongi by the chin and tugs enough to make him sit even higher. He feels powerful and possessive. "This is all for me. Now, open."

As soon as Yoongi's lips part, Hoseok spits into his mouth. Yoongi's eyes widen further, and he keeps his mouth open as if he is waiting for instruction. His submissive side has Hoseok simmering with desire.

"You're so perfect, Yoongi," Hoseok praises just above a whisper. "So fucking perfect. Now put those pretty lips to good use."

Yoongi nods once – a shallow, quick movement – then wastes no time taking Hoseok's length deep into his throat. Hoseok feels Yoongi swallow and possibly begin to gag, but he is slow with the way he pulls back and sinks down, sucking with his lips tight around the tip each time, eliciting bursting waves of pleasure.

"Fuck, Yoongi," Hoseok groans, reaching to grip his hair with his right hand. He cannot believe this is finally happening. "Your mouth feels amazing."

Yoongi hums and moans, increasing his speed but never seeming rushed, and Hoseok's head spins as his arousal builds and builds. It has been far too fucking long since he has had someone so pretty down on their knees, and the sight alone of Yoongi's doll lips wrapped around him while tears pool around his delicate, long eyelashes builds his pleasure too fast.

"I won't last long," he whimpers. "Feels too good."

As if spurred on to push Hoseok over the edge, Yoongi swallows his cock deeper, holding it lodged in his throat until his face begins to redden and his eyes bulge. The sensation is exquisite, especially as Yoongi pulls back, mouth full of thick saliva, making the slide smooth as silk.

And again, Yoongi sinks down as deep as he can and holds Hoseok there, gaze trained upward despite the way his eyelashes flicker. Hoseok reaches with his free hand and gives Yoongi's cheek a delicate slap, then lower to cradle Yoongi's throat and feel himself buried deep from the outside.

"Holy fuck," he babbles, nodding. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, Yoongi. Such a good boy, perfect, perfect."

This time, when Yoongi pulls back, saliva pours from between his lips, and he uses both hands to stroke along Hoseok's length while he bobs his tightened lips just past the head, laving with his tongue.

Hoseok is overstimulated in a way he has never experienced from a blowjob, and his resolve crumbles in an instant.

"Gonna cum, fuck," Hoseok warns. "Can I cum in your mouth?"

Yoongi heavy-blinks and attempts to nod, lips and hands still working Hoseok over. Hoseok's entire body feels hot – set alight, threatening to combust.

"Fuck, fuck," Hoseok whimpers, trembling from pleasure that teeters just on the edge of insanity.

Yoongi stills his head, holding his mouth open and tongue flat while stroking Hoseok with both hands. The tip of his cock drags along Yoongi's pretty tongue, and with one more measured stroke, Hoseok releases, moaning and gasping, practically folding in half as his cum spurts in long ropes, painting Yoongi white.

Although the strokes slow, they do not stop. Yoongi's large, soft hands milk him of every last drop until Hoseok is gripping Yoongi's shoulders and he is begging him to have mercy.

"Fuck, Yoongi," he gasps, lowering to his knees, no longer able to hold himself up.

Yoongi's tongue continues to lay flat, cum and drool dripping down his chin, and Hoseok sits high and spits once more into his mouth before commanding him to, "Swallow."

Hoseok watches intently as Yoongi closes his lips and swallows his cum, then his hands are on him, lazily gripping at his throat and neck. He feels drunk with power and desire – feels ready to allow the blaze inside him to swallow both of them whole.

"On the bed," Hoseok commands.

Yoongi's face is flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, his once-style hair is fucked up and sticking out on the sides, and his lips are pretty kiss-swollen petals. He breathes slow and deep as he nods, eyelashes fluttering as if he too is coming down from a high.

Rather than stand, Yoongi turns haphazardly on his knees, gets onto his hands, and crawls. His white trouser shorts hug his plump round ass, swaying with each movement like a beacon of pleasure, and Hoseok crawls behind him, eyes never leaving his prize until they must – until Yoongi climbs up the platform bed and turns, sitting with his feet planted on the floor.

Hoseok crawls to Yoongi's shins, then sits high on his knees and uses his palms to spread his thighs. He licks his lips and reaches for Yoongi's button and zipper, but Yoongi grips Hoseok by the wrists and yanks.

"Come here, Seok."

Nodding, still feeling somewhat delirious, Hoseok gets up onto his feet just enough to crash down onto the low bed, caging Yoongi's legs as the man chuckles and crawls backward to the center of the mattress.

"I have an idea," Yoongi promises, rotating to scoot until his shoulders are against the dark headboard. He pats his legs and says, "Come here," while he hastily shoves his shorts and briefs down, and his voice is rougher than usual, no doubt from deepthroating.

For the first time since all of this has started, Hoseok gets a good look at Yoongi. His complexion is soft and supple against the dark bedding, and his body is a gorgeous blend of thin and muscular – similar to Hoseok, yet different. His shoulders are wide, his hands are large, yet he is knobby and slightly lanky, small against the large bed. Breathtaking.

The hair at the base of Yoongi's hard, leaking cock is trimmed low – an inviting patch of black against lilac-tinted skin. Hoseok leans close to kiss along Yoongi's hip and breathes in his musky-sweet scent, but before he can tease, Yoongi has both hands on Hoseok's cheeks and jaw, tugging him upward.

Hoseok lifts and wiggles beside Yoongi, who has slithered down into a lying position. "Kiss me," he groans, still pulling Hoseok by the face, forcing him to crash down against him, licking against his lips.

As Hoseok settles onto his side, Yoongi drapes a leg around Hoseok's hips and rolls their bodies together. Already, Hoseok's cock is becoming erect, and with each roll of Yoongi's hips, he feels hypnotized.

"Fuck, Yoongi," Hoseok groans, sinking low against Yoongi's chest to leave marks with his lips and teeth that will be hidden under clothing tomorrow. "You don't know what you do to me."

Yoongi lifts his hand to Hoseok's lips and rasps, "Spit," and Hoseok obeys, gathering saliva under his tongue only to trickle it into his palm. Then Yoongi reaches between them, engulfs both cocks in his warm grip, and thrusts.

"Oh, shit," Hoseok whimpers in tandem with a deep, needy groan from Yoongi.

Hoseok spits hastily into his own hand and reaches to engulf them further, then he sets a rhythm with his hips, pushing when Yoongi pulls and pulling when Yoongi pushes. Pleasure grips Hoseok tight, threatening to drag him into the hot, inviting depths of hell, and Hoseok whimpers as he leans into Yoongi, sucking his lips between his teeth.

The kiss is a sloppy gnash of teeth and tongues with nobody in control. Yoongi seems to be losing his composure quickly, and the more he moans and trembles against Hoseok, the more persistently Hoseok strokes their dicks.

Their rhythm is hypnotizing – a dance between two bodies so fluid and perfect, Hoseok has a lingering thought that perhaps the two of them were meant for each other. Their connection feels so intense, it scares the shit out of him.

"Seok," Yoongi whimpers, lower lip caught in Hoseok's teeth. "Close. So close. "Gonna—"

"In my mouth," Hoseok insists, releasing his hold on their cocks and haphazardly sliding down the length of Yoongi's body.

He is quick to sink Yoongi deep into his throat, wasting no time sucking as if his life depends on it. Yoongi stays on his side and grips onto Hoseok's hair, hips trusting, never losing their dizzying rhythm.

Hoseok can feel Yoongi pulsate against his lips and he swallows him deep, moaning and humming around him until Yoongi's hips tremble and he shoots his load straight into Hoseok's throat. Yoongi's voice is pitchy and broken, his body quakes with bliss, and Hoseok breathes through his nose, doing his best to swallow each drop without his gag reflex interfering.

Suddenly exhausted, Hoseok releases Yoongi's spent cock, gasping for air. It is messy the way Yoongi attempts to pull Hoseok's lips back to his, body bent in half while Hoseok stretches and strains until he finally finds the strength to crawl up to him and kiss him properly.

"Seok," Yoongi gasps against his lips, eyes wide and filling Hoseok's vision. "You're incredible. Nobody…" he pants, "nobody has ever made me feel this way."

Honeyed words taste bitter against Hoseok's tongue as he considers all the different times Yoongi must have used that line before. How many models did he sink his claws into similarly, only to drop without a care in the world? What is worse is that Hoseok almost believes him.

Yoongi holds Hoseok in place against him, lips lazily dragging, eager to kiss despite losing the strength to move. Hoseok's mouth moves on instinct alone, erection long forgotten to the brewing storm inside his head.

"Nap," Yoongi grumbles, body falling limp and relaxed around him. "Then food."

"Okay," Hoseok whispers as he reaches for the soft comforter on which they lay, folding it over them rather than bothering to attempt to crawl beneath it.

Yoongi smiles, drifting to sleep, and Hoseok leaves soft pecks against the tip of his nose and the apple of his cheek, eager to kiss and kiss and kiss. He wants to commit this moment to memory in the event that this is the last time.

As Yoongi's body becomes heavy as lead, lost to the firm grasp of sleep, Hoseok waits for him to lightly begin to snore. He waits, laying on his side and tracing each shape of Yoongi's beautiful face, shoulders, and chest with his eyes.

He waits and he waits until Yoongi rolls onto his back, limbs slipping away from Hoseok's nude body. And then he waits just a beat longer before he slowly, silently slips out from beneath the comforter, collects his clothing, and tiptoes into the living room.

It is still early in the night, and Hoseok stares out the window at the city below the hill, at the river in the distance, at the cars that drive by. He slips into his clothing, tiptoes to the front door, gathers his handbag and shoes, and, in the elevator, calls for a cab.

Over and over, Yoongi's voice plays in Hoseok's head. Nobody has ever made me feel this way.

Over and over, his pretty, tearful eyes and soft, kissable lips sear into Hoseok's mind, taking up permanent residence, threatening to drive him mad. Hoseok stares at his reflection in the elevator doors, unsure how he is supposed to feel.

He got it out of his system. He successfully fucked with the pretty man with the reputation for using people, and he slipped away in the night, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

But he does not feel satisfied. It is as if vines have snaked their way into his chest cavity and they squeeze, threatening to puncture his lungs with their thorns and steal his air.

He feels defeated. Deflated. He has accomplished his goal, yet he does not feel victorious.

Nobody has ever made me feel this way.

Those pretty words spoken in that raspy voice taunt him over and over, and Hoseok walks out into the chill night feeling emptier than before.

one more chapter left!!! and don't worry, these two idiots will have a happy ending, okay. i just have to drag you through the angst mud a little more because it's funnnn. 😍😍😍 apparently i can only focus on one bestie at a time, so i will do my best to bring Taehyung into the spotlight in chapter 4!

also i feel like it is silly to have described Yoongi living in an all black and grey space with my whole entire chest, but this is what i had in mind:

MORE COMING SOON!!! COMMENTS & REBLOGS WILL MAKE ME WANT TO WORK ON IT FASTER! LIKES ARE ALWAYS SO SO APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!

tag list: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @itsmina29 @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 📸 want to be added to this tag list for part 4? or the list for all of my member x member fics?? or everything i post??? or maybe this fic isn’t for you and you want to be removed???? comment or dm! i will make your dreams a reality.

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Showstopper is copyright theharrowing 2022 - 2024. no translations or reposting allowed!

#hoseok x yoongi #yoongi x hoseok #yoonseok #yoonseok angst #yoonseok smut #bts writers club #sope #sope angst #sope smut #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts angst #bts smut #fic: showstopper

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jeonverselol · 2 years

Text

unspoken (m) - jjk

Pairing: photographer jk x event planner y/n

a/n: lmao first of all I don’t know shit about planning events I’m sorry but let’s just pretend that this is how things work. also this is my first ever fic be nice y’all.

Summary: you and Jungkook were not just friends but none of y’all really addressed it so the tension between you two just grew and you played along with it but as things get heated, Jungkook finally finds the need to address the unspoken situationship you two have after feeling like someone might be taking his invisible spot.

Word count: 11.1k (lol I’m sorry)

genre: smut, fluff? friends-to-lovers

Notes/warnings: f2l, mentions of blackpink members, mentions of all other bts members, tattoed jk, pierced jk, big dick jk, clit play, squirting, doggy style, degradation (let’s face it don’t we all secretly love this a little too much), blowjob, possessive jk, jealousy, choking, cunnilingus, daddy kink, hand kink? exhibition kink? unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys), cum play? pure filth (I’m sorry I’ll be drowning in my sins now)

You and Jungkook were never just friends. Not lovers, not acquaintances but stuck in the middle of something complicated and unspoken. Like many unspoken things, there seemed to be this barrier and set of rules you two have made for yourselves even though none of you have explicitly made it so.

Both of you texted every day, called each other almost every day, never saw anyone else apart from each other and never intended to see anyone else. But the thing is, it’s only complicated because you two made it so. It was clear to everyone that you two had feelings for each other without the need to point it out, but whenever you two get asked questions about your relationship status, none of you seemed to put a proper label on it.

The nature of your relationship slash friendship could last for as long as you two wanted it to. In the eyes of those who don’t know, you two are in fact just two single people. For you two, you knew there was something more but chose to be in denial. Call it cowardice, or maybe egoistic but none of you even made the effort to address the overpowering tension between you two. Jungkook and you seemed to let it be and when the overbearing questions come at either of you, you would either steer the question somewhere else or shrug it off.

However, that invisible string that attached you two was soon challenged when Jungkook saw another man take his invisible spot.

“Hey Y/N, take a look at this and let me know what you think of it. We need this to be absolutely perfect for the Vante show,” Namjoon says as he passes few pieces of paper to you before taking another stack of files and going through it.

Being an event planner, your job is far from easy. While everyone assumes all that you do is book a place, put up decorations and music, it requires much more intricate details and thorough planning. Despite wanting to quit a few times, you held it in for a few years and soon rose the ranks to call the shots yourself.

As soon as you make it past the first page, Namjoon chimes in as if he remembered something important, “Oh and I forgot to tell you, they’ve decided this morning that they want Jungkook’s company to handle the photography side of things.”

Ears chirping up at the name of your favourite person, you feel a smile creep your lips and your mood instantly became better after knowing that you two will be working together for the event.

“Oh, is that so?” You played it cool. Namjoon looks up from his glasses upon hearing your remark. “Very much so. Taehyung came back with the call just half an hour ago, he saw the portfolios and thought Jungkook’s was the best to capture the whole vibe of the gala.” You never doubted that once. Kim Taehyung is the hottest shit in the art world right now and this event is supposed to be a major leap in his career and to know that Jungkook and his team will be a part of this along with you made you extremely excited.

“Since he’s your boyfriend, do you want to handle that part of the plans? I’m kind of swamped with the caterers and I still have to check up on the guest list… which is driving me insane,” you can see his eyebrows furrow and chest heaving at the thought of the workload.

Boyfriend. That strange yet familiar word that seems to remind you how obvious you two are close to one another, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to admit that there’s something more to it. What if he is just being super friendly? What if he’s just being flirtatious with no intention? What if you overthought things? In the two years you’ve known each other and the six months these remarks have been thrown at you two, you spent countless times wondering what to make of the two of you, yet you had zero guts to actually address the issue so you just let it be. Some might say you’re just content with your situation-ship but honestly, you’re just scared you’ve misread the whole situation in the first place. To avoid the humiliation and a possible loss of friendship, you’ve erected this invisible barrier when it came to this issue.

“Y/N?” Your head perked up when you heard your name and then remembered his question. “Oh yeah um, actually, how about you let me deal with the guest list and you can handle the photographers. I’ve been going through the list for quite some time anyway.”

As if you’ve said something weird, Namjoon narrows his eyes at you for a millisecond, finding it odd you don’t want to deal with your ‘boyfriend’ but brushed it off thinking you probably don’t want to mix business and your personal life together. Also, he was just glad he could get out of dealing with the most hectic part of plans.

“Okay, I would actually love that. Just make sure you get the RSVPs from the VIP section. Most of them are Taehyung’s friends but some are potential investors so put in extra effort on that.”

The two of you have been hand-in-hand in dealing with this event but Namjoon has been at it longer than you. Despite being your superior, colleague and friend, he’s very open into hearing ideas and is pretty much the coolest superior you can ask for. So, when you got roped in the Vante project and Namjoon made you his right-hand, you were pretty excited for your first major event in your new position.

“Got it boss.” You remarked with a smile, emphasising on the last word. Namjoon chuckled at the use of the name ‘boss’ considering he never insisted on being called that.

Just then you felt your phone vibrate on your desk. Peering over your phone your heart made flips at the sight of “Jungkookie” and excused yourself to attend to your phone outside of your working space.

“Hey Kook,” you chimed as you answered your phone.

“Hey princess. Am I disturbing?” There it is, one of the many nicknames he called you. Though you realised he’s never used it on anyone else, you were still reluctant in drawing any conclusions about his flirting. Rather, you just let yourself immerse in the fun of it all.

“No not at all, I got a few minutes, just taking a break. This Vante stuff is really jamming my brain. Namjoon’s aiming for things to be done by this week. Fingers crossed.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was smiling stupidly at the other of the phone call, he loved it when you talk about work. Some people may find it weird, but he’d listen to anything that comes out of your mouth. “Oh yeah? Speaking of Vante, Namjoon emailed me then texted me to read the email a second after it was sent –“ you rolled your eyes upon hearing that because that was just typical Namjoon behaviour, always on the clock for everything “- that Taehyung has agreed to my team headlining the photography and videography for the event.” You could hear the happiness in his voice.

“Namjoon literally told me about it 10 minutes ago. Congratulations Kookie! Can’t wait to get this event rolling so we can finally get some rest over it.” You sighed dramatically.

Jungkook lets out a hearty chuckle. “Thank you, princess. We still on for drinks tonight?” As soon as he said that you were reminded about the plans you two made a few days ago with your group of friends.

“Oh yeah sure but I’ll be a little late. Just a little bit, because I need to wrap up some stuff here. See you and the guys there?”

Your recent tardiness to the weekly after-work session at the pub with your friends Hoseok, Jimin, Lisa and Jennie (and Jungkook, of course) became a thing ever since the Vante event planning and instead of pushing back the usual time set, you just decided to inform everyone you’ll show up later than usual, giving them a head start while you make your late entry.

You knew what he was going to say but you always made the same suggestion anyway.

“Nonsense. I’ll pick you up, just text me what time and I’ll come get you babe.” Another nickname that gave you butterflies and at the same time made you nauseous as to whether it ever meant anything.

“Hmm okay just meet me downstairs at 7, I should be done by then.”

After a few giggles and flirting, you ended the call and decided to go back to work. Going through your list of tasks you began working and ticking a number of it off the list. The plan took months to mould and you were glad you’re now left with the menial yet still important tasks. and before you know it you craned your neck up and the clock showed 6.45pm. Deciding you got enough work done for the day you began packing your things and switched off the lights of your office on your way out since Namjoon took his leave earlier to work at home. As you head down the lobby, your eyes lit up at the figure in front of you at the waiting area.

Donning a short sleeve shirt, showcasing his impeccable sleeve tattoo, pants that hug his thighs in ways that kept your eyes glued to them, hair slicked back with a few loose strands over his forehead, you’re just amazed this man even gave you his attention in the first place. Thumb scrolling through his phone, his head perked up with a smile as he notices you coming towards his direction. Damn that lip piercing, you thought, why the fuck is he so hot?

He stands up and tucks his phone into his pocket as he takes two long strides towards you enveloping you in a hug. “Hey you’re early. Have you been waiting for long?” You say as you wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Just 10 minutes, traffic was clear today, so I managed to reach a little early.” Lies. He had to wrap up work fast and leave before the rush hour so that he could see you on time. He probably reached a little too early and decided to plop on the couch in the lobby and even squeezed in a whole episode of Friends.

“Okay, let’s get going.” You smiled as he took your bags and files for you and led you to his car.

“Dude I’m telling you I can’t believe she said that shit,” said an exasperated Lisa, probably with one-two many pints, as she goes on about her shithead of a boss.

“She’s just jealous you’re doing her job better than her,” Hoseok remarks as he sips on his beer. Agreeing with Hoseok, you raised your quarter pint of Guinness before downing it, “I have to say Hoseok’s right about that.”

“I still can’t believe you drink that shit,” says Jimin sipping on his Kronenbourg, gesturing at your dark malty beverage of choice. “It’s an acquired taste, not for the weak ones.” You rolled your eyes at him jokingly, laughter erupting from your friends right after.

With an arm around your chair and the other holding his bottle of beer, Jungkook laughs with you. You never fail to notice the small things he does, the shoulder touches, the arms looping over your chair, the closeness of your face. He laughs at everything you say even when it isn’t that funny, he picks you up and drops you home when he lives on the opposite side of town. Sarcastically you begin to wonder wow does he look like my boyfriend?

“Yah Jungkook, how’s that thing with the Vante project? Any luck?” Jennie inquires, sipping on her gin and tonic, heavy on the gin considering how her firm has been roped into the project last minute as well in terms of advertising.

“Just got the call today from Namjoon, I’m in,” Jungkook says as tugs you closer, raising his glass to cheers with the rest. You feel the closeness once again and perhaps it’s because you’re on your third pint with the lack of dinner, you’re a little tipsy and you honestly just want to drown in his cologne and do unspeakable things to your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend.

The night goes by as usual, with the rest of you talking about work, gossip, laughing about memories that pop up, and Jungkook occasionally leaning in to press his cheek on your temple. He noticed how you were rubbing your arms and pulled you in closer, urging you to lean in so that he could transfer some of his body heat to you. And you still wonder why people think he’s your boyfriend? Might as well send out wedding invitations already.

Sensing your insides are turning too much due to the proximity between your bodies, you excuse yourself to go to the washroom. Looking at your own reflection, you sigh at the thought of you not meaning anything to Jungkook and that this was all just some sick act you have engrossed yourself in for far too long. Call yourself pessimistic or perhaps just insecure, you somehow never inclined to the possibility of Jungkook actually liking you like that. One may call you stupid for thinking like that despite the blatant boyfriend-like gestures Jungkook’s been doing but hey, better to not have expectations so that you won’t be disappointed am I right?

Tossing the paper towel into the trash can, you opened the door intending to head out but gasped at the sight of the tattooed boy in front of you. “Jesus, Kook, you scared me.” You tried to laugh it off, but Jungkook seemed a little nervous for some reason.

“Sorry about that, just checking up on you.” You quirked an eyebrow, all you did was went to the washroom. Jungkook sensed that you were itching for him to say more so he came a little closer to you. “It’s getting late, the girls suggested you stay over with me.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The girls suggested – okay you thought, maybe he’s just following through with the concerns of Lisa and Jennie. I mean, the first time you stayed over Jungkook’s was after an event near his place, per his impromptu suggestion considering it was 2am and that it made no sense for you to travel home alone. You completely knocked out after 10 minutes of laying on his bed and he slept next to you, no arms around you or anything, just too chickened out to trespass your invisible barrier.

“Oh okay. Yeah that sounds great, your house is closer anyway and it’s – “, looking at your watch you’re shocked to see the time. “- oh my god it’s 12am already?” You swore you felt like you just got here. The late nights at work have really taken a toll on you.

Chuckling, Jungkook loops his hand around your waist and walks you back to the table. “Yeah, it’s late, just come back to mine babe, it’s a Friday anyway, I’ll send you back home tomorrow if you want.” There it is again with the ‘if you want’. You have heard that way too many times and you have started to think that he has no intention of taking it further. No of course I don’t want to fucking go home if you gave me the choice, you thought. Instead of saying what you wanted, you just went with “Sounds good.”

After bidding goodbye to your friends, who knowingly created the sleepover situation for you both because the both of you are just losers, you went your separate ways and you followed Jungkook to his car. The ride to his place was quiet but also loud. Quiet in that you two barely engaged in any conversation but listened to the soft R&B tunes playing over the speaker, loud in the sense that your heart was beating so fast at the thought of spending the night.

In just 20 minutes, you two reached Jungkook’s apartment and once again, you feel the invisible barrier between you two starting to break. Will tonight be the night it breaks? Or will you two cowards waste another opportunity to address the elephant in the room again?

The journey to his apartment was short and as you enter his apartment, you’re happy to see the familiar sight of his place. Minimalistic yet full of details that said ‘Jungkook’, the random photos on the wall, probably from a recent shoot, dumbbells over by the couch, he was probably watching something and lifting as usual, unfolded clothes at the armchair, he probably took in the laundry yesterday and was too lazy to sort them out.

The sound of his keys hit the wooden countertop in his foyer, bringing your attention back to him. “You know where everything is, just make yourself comfortable and you can pick out anything you want from my closet. Once you’ve showered, I’ll just put your clothes in the washing machine and you can wear them tomorrow,” says Jungkook as he dropped your files and bag at the dining table. You nodded at him with a smile and went towards his room over to the attached bathroom.

“Oh, and I got you this,” he handed you a makeup remover, a generic brand but does the work, and a moisturiser. “The last time you were here you woke up talking about how you can’t believe you slept with your makeup on, so I got you this,” he casually says as you stared at him dumbfounded.

How the fuck does one just do stuff like this and expect you to not pounce on him and ask him to be your boyfriend? You held back the thoughts in your head and gave him a hug, thanking him for the sweet gesture. But honestly you just wanted to cry tears of joy knowing someone went out of his way to do something like this for you and also cry tears of sadness because he’s not your actual boyfriend. Who cares right? Just bask in the moment while you can.

After the both of you washed up, Jungkook welcomed you to his bed and enveloped his arms around you. Well that’s some progress, he thought, compared to the last time he didn’t even get to hug you. He smiled at your choice of attire, a black tee of his and boxers. Then his mind went elsewhere as he scanned your legs, he knew for a fact you weren’t wearing underwear and a bra considering he put it in the laundry. His hand around your waist itched to go lower but he restrained himself.

With his arms around you, your heart started to beat really fast. Both of you seemed to do things that friends don’t usually do yet never took it fully up a notch. The ambiguity surrounding your feelings made the barrier bigger and both of you had no idea what the other truly felt. You two were willing to play along with the idea of being more than friends so there was no explanation as to why the two of you remained the cowards you two were. Jungkook basked in the scent of you, liking the way you smelled just like his shower gel, his face wash – just like you were his. There were so many things Jungkook wanted to do with you and for you but you were too oblivious to notice the heart eyes he has whenever he was around you and he was too scared to do something in case you didn't want him to. You being in his arms, on his bed, just felt too domestic and Jungkook never wanted this night to end.

He never failed to notice the way your friends tried to constantly loop you two together or created opportunities for you two to be alone. He wasn’t dumb, he could see through their intentions like how Hoseok and Jimin seemed to assign unspoken designated seats next to Lisa and Jennie, leaving you two to always sit next to each other, or the time that Hoseok casually told Jungkook to bring you as a date to his company event, or how Jimin didn’t stop anyone from referring to you as Jungkook’s girlfriend the entire night you two joined him at a family event. The most recent one was tonight, where Lisa and Jennie casually exaggerated how it was dangerous for girls to head home alone at a time like this, the fact that your house was rather far and you did not have a car. After dragging the topic for a bit, Lisa casually nudged Jungkook and practically commanded that he let you stay over at his place tonight, the reason being their places were too ‘messy’. Assuming his friends were just playing Cupid, he decided to indulge in Lisa's idea, mostly because the idea of you being alone with him in the comfort of his own place was far too tempting to resist.

As Jungkook brought you closer to his chest, you put your arm over his torso and Jungkook took that as a sign to test the waters. He hovered his lips over your head, and the fingers that were on your waist started to caress your side. He planted a kiss on top of your head, secretly rejoicing within for making that first tiny step yet terrified that you might not want it. He felt you stiffen against his hold, then felt you relax in his arms again. He decided to take your reaction positively and continued to pepper kisses on your head.

“What are you doing?” He broke off from his trance and looked down to see you facing him, eyes boring into his with a hint of something which he can’t seem to place. “I’m sorry, do you not like it?” He was ready to set himself on fire, book a flight to some obscure part of the world and change his name because at the very moment, if he read you wrong then he is as good as dead.

“No… I...” You see a frown on his face, his eyes starting to widen, and you sat up this time to properly face him. “I mean, I do… I like it.” Oh fuck my life, you thought. Why can’t just say what I want?

Just then, you see an unreadable expression form on his face. Before you could say anything, his lips crashed on yours and your eyes widen in shock. His arms snake around your waist to bring you closer and you relax in his touch and kissed him back just as passionately.

The kiss was anything but gentle, Jungkook kissed you like a starved man and his arms were tight around you, almost fearing you might go away. Fuck it, he thought. He was not going to pretend that neither of you wanted this. Your arms find its way to his neck and you shifted to straddle him, with your legs each side of his thick thighs. Jungkook moaned at the new position and his tongue found its way into the cavern of your mouth, darting in with a groan. You moaned at the way his tongue touches yours and you began to grind your hips against him. Feeling a bulge forming, a wonton moan escapes your mouth and Jungkook cups your ass and brings your centre closer to his.

Breaking off the kiss to catch your breaths, you and Jungkook stare at each other, foreheads connected and chest heaving. None of you could find the right words to say, but you knew there was some explaining to do. The barrier you two have built was now crumbling and it was time to face reality.

Or so you thought.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Your body stiffens at the sentence and the use of your first name. You wanted to die. All you could do was prepare for the humiliation you were about to face. Your arms began to untangle from his neck, but Jungkook held you tighter. “No it’s just, I really want you.”

Oh. You looked at him confused, not knowing why he felt the need to clarify it when it was so obvious you wanted him too. “It’s just that I won’t hold back once you let me.”

You feel your pussy clench at his words. You were pretty sure there was a damp spot on the boxers you were wearing now. “What if I don’t want you to hold back?” You bit your lip as you placed your palms on his broad chest, slowly moving it up to the base of his neck.

“I mean it, princess.” His voice was low, and his gaze was full of lust. You stared at those dark brown orbs and leaned in, your lips teasing his, “And I mean it Kook. Don’t hold back.” You emphasised the last three words and that was all it took for Jungkook to flip you over and crash his lips onto yours once again. You moaned into the kiss once more, this time completely drowned in the roughness. Teeth clashing, tongues touching, you arch your back to feel more of him.

Jungkook growled and left a trail of wet kisses down the side of your neck before sucking on spot right near your collarbone. He traced his fingers down your (his) shirt and tugged it upwards to reveal your bare chest. He cupped your tits and sucked on your left nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. You tried to lift your knee to touch his bulge, but he pinned both your legs down harshly. “I’m having it my way today. I want to make you feel good baby girl.” He was not letting months of sexual tension go to waste. He's spent countless times jerking off to the thought of you, wondering what your body would taste like, the skimpy bikinis you wore on vacations left little to his imagination and the way you moved your hips on the dance floor carved a definite memory in his brain.

You feel a gush of wetness in between your legs at his words, liking the way he was behaving right now. He was still the sweet Jungkook you knew but you could tell that he’s going to be anything but sweet tonight. He wanted to wreck you in every way possible but tried his best to not go overboard.

Jungkook continued to suck on your nipples while his hand slips into your (his) boxers, he groaned at how wet you were. “Fuck princess, you’re already so wet and I barely did anything.”

He circled his finger around your clit, eliciting moans from you. You sounded like a fucking pornstar right now but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make you cum. His lips went upwards to your neck and continued to suck your sweet spot. You knew that was going to bruise but you had the weekend off anyway. You whined as he stopped his actions to pull down the boxers, revealing your glistening pussy. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful baby.” He lapped on your entrance all the way up to your clit and sucked on it, causing you to jerk your body upwards. He spread your thighs apart and insert one finger in. You brought your hands up to palm your tits, pinching your nipples and Jungkook swore he could have nutted at the sight of you so desperate for him.

“That’s right baby girl. Touch those pretty tits for me.”

“More... Kook.” You whined. Jungkook inserted another finger and brought his thumb to circle your clit. “Such a fucking slut. You like that baby? Like it when my fingers are deep inside you?”

You nodded embarrassingly fast. “Yeah baby? Then you’re gonna love it when I stuff you with my cock.” He kept increasing the speed and you felt yourself reaching your high. “Kook, I’m gonna…”

“Let go for me baby, need you soaking wet to take my cock.” At the sight of you pinching your nipples, and Jungkook’s fingers fucking you, he decided to replace his thumb on your clit with his tongue. The combination of his fingers and his tongue was so good you could almost see stars. You felt a knot building in your lower half and Jungkook could feel you clenching around his fingers. As if you weren’t sensitive enough, Jungkook inserted a third finger and moved even faster than before. His sucked harsher on your clit and drew kitten licks on it.

“Oh my god don’t fucking stop!” You half-screamed and as if on cue, you feel your orgasm flowing through and as Jungkook pulls out his fingers, still giving kitten licks on your clit, you felt your orgasm gushing out uncontrollably. Jungkook switches his tongue with his thumb and slowly draws circles on your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm.

Seeing your body slumped on the sheets, he continued to slowly rub your clit until you started twitching. Your eyes finally opened after what seemed like minutes, staring at Jungkook with half-lidded eyes. “Holy shit. You fucking squirted all over me, princess.” Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed and you can see the gaze in his eyes visibly darken. He took off his shirt and you made no effort to conceal the way you were staring at how much buffer he had gotten since the last time you ever saw him shirtless. The outline of his chest and abs, tattoos and the way his biceps flexed was almost unreal.

“I need you now baby.” He took off his boxers and your eyes widen at the sight before you. He was huge and thick. You almost salivated at the sight of what you knew was going to tear you apart. He palmed his dick and slowly pumped it. “Get on all fours baby.” You obeyed his command and you feel the tip of his dick at your entrance. Still sensitive from your intense orgasm, you whimpered when he entered your folds. “What baby? Don’t tell me you can’t take it?” He said, mocking you and the sounds you were making. “I’m going to ruin you princess.” He slowly pushed his length inside of you and you held your breath, trying to get used to his size. Once he was fully in, you adjusted yourself and told him to move.

Jungkook started to move, and he groaned at every thrust. “Fuck! Baby girl, you’re so tight.” He started to pick up speed and you feel yourself slumping deeper into the bed. Jungkook grabbed you by the neck and you arched your back towards him. You feel his palms at your throat and that made you even wetter and this didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. You loved the way he was manhandling you. “Oh what a fucking slut. You’re fucking made for me baby.” Jungkook said with every thrust. He started to pound harder and you feel him hit your spot in every possible way.

“Oh my god, right there! Right there… Kook!” You moaned in ecstasy at the way he was pounding inside you. He let go of your throat and his fingers came down to rub your clit while his other hand gripped your hips hard. You were sure that spot was going to bruise as well tomorrow.

“Fuck baby girl you’re so… fucking …” His words slurred as his hips snapped into yours and you felt his balls hitting against your pussy. Your walls clenched around him as you feel another orgasm approaching. “Kook I’m gonna cum again…”

“Fucking cum for me baby,” his fingers rubbed your clit faster and in a matter of seconds you clenched his dick real hard and your body fell into the sheets. Jungkook feels you gushing around his dick and growled. He wasn't going to last much longer.

“Where do you want me to cum baby?”

“Cum inside my mouth,” you pleaded and a string of curses leave Jungkook’s mouth. “Fuck you’re unreal.” You feel him slipping out of you and you turn around on all fours to face him. He pumps his dick and you take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip repeatedly. Soon you feel the hot spurts of liquid coat your mouth as Jungkook slowly thrusts your mouth to unload the rest. Once he’s done he pulls out of your mouth and he could swear he felt his dick twitch at the sight of you swallowing his cum.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” He brings you in for a kiss and you two lay down to catch your breath.

Now that you two have broken the invisible barrier between you two, letting all sexual tensions break loose. You felt relieved that it happened but before you could speak you felt Jungkook leave your side to go to the bathroom. He came back with a washcloth and wiped the mess in between your legs. You winced at the contact, still sensitive from your high. “Come on babe, let’s go shower.” Before you could reply he hoisted you up and you giggled like a schoolgirl, loving the treatment you were getting.

The night went by better than you could have imagined, as you two lay on the newly-changed sheets, basking in each other’s scents and entertaining each other with sweet nothings. You two decided to just leave things unspoken, none of you addressing the new state of your relationship. After a few giggles and kisses, you two managed to squeeze in a few hours of deep sleep, with you in his arms this time.

The rest of the weekend seemed pretty normal, except for the morning after when Jungkook fucked you on the kitchen countertop and you sucking him off in the car ride home because you two just could not keep your hands off one another. It was like you two were making up for the months of teasing and sexual desire. He was reluctant to bid you goodbye once you reached home, clearly wanting to spend more time with you and just be in proximity with you all the time. You two parted after what seemed like half an hour of kisses and hand-holding.

With the week rolling by rather quickly, the Vante project was setting off to a good start. After countless sleepless nights and self-isolation, you managed to get everything done as planned. Despite not seeing Jungkook for a whole week, considering the busy schedule you two had for this upcoming event, you smiled knowing that everything was worth it as you two got to see each other and celebrate each other’s success at the night of the gala.

As the night of the gala approaches, you were more than excited to see your favourite person, whom you still weren’t even sure was your boyfriend or not, but you were determined to set the bar tonight now that there were no distractions. The red silk gown you wore hugged your body in all the right places, and the slit on the side showed just the right amount of your long legs. Cream silk gloves adorned your hands up to your elbows, secured with some statement gold jewellery. Your hair was tucked to one side in old Hollywood waves and heaps amount of hairspray. You make up was anything but simple considering the extravagant nature of the event. Taehyung never settles for less, just like in his art. This exhibition slash show could just be the Met Gala if you wanted it to be.

Arriving at the event earlier than the guests, you see Namjoon at the corner of the stage, speaking to the man of the night himself. Namjoon sported a black tuxedo with gold details, whereas Taehyung opted for a statement piece with hues of blue, beige and pattern. “Hey guys!” You walked over to the two as your lips, stained in Dior Rouge, etched into a smile, completely satisfied with how the plans turned out.

“Hey Y/N.” Namjoon gave you a friendly hug while Taehyung opted to kiss the back of your hand. “You look ravishing tonight Y/N. Not that you don’t in any other day.” Classic Taehyung, over the top with his compliments. “I have to say I can’t thank you guys enough for making my visions come true. This gala looks amazing, and I can’t wait for the night to get started.”

After exchanging a few words, you excused yourself to find your friend Jennie, who was at the front of the building, brushing up on the final touches with the posters. You squealed as you see your best friend, in a black gown with tweed details and a headband above her head, looking very much like a Chanel doll. “Jen!” Her face lights up upon hearing you and you see her waddling her way towards you. “Oh my god you look fucking hot!” She eyes you up and down. “Jungkook’s gonna get a heart attack.”

You blushed at the utterance of his name. Lisa and Jennie knew that you had feelings for Jungkook and while your friends never made it awkward for you two by putting your situationship under the spotlight, their efforts in breaking that barrier for you two were anything but subtle. “Speaking of Jungkook, have you seen him yet?” You inquired and Jennie looks around, “I think he should be setting up. He didn’t reply to the group chat so I’m guessing he must be preoccupied.” You nodded in agreement, yet your heart pounded at the thought of him already being in the same building as you.

Before you could make your way to find Jungkook, Namjoon pings you to go to the front, monitoring the reception to keep an eye on Taehyung’s VIP guests. You scurried your way to the giant entrance to greet the incoming guests. As the minutes go by, the place was starting to get filled up with a lot of guests, many who were art enthusiasts, some were friends of Taehyung, some were businessmen, and some were artists themselves hoping to meet the main man tonight.

About half an hour in, you see your friends Jimin, Hoseok and Lisa roll up, donning outfits that fit the gaudy vibe of the gala. You gave them each a hug as they congratulated you on the spectacular decoration and turnout of what would be the event of the year. “Champagne’s on the side! Go ham, we didn’t skimp on the budget. I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit,” you remarked as you ushered them in.

About 15 minutes later, you ticked off the last couple of guests for the evening and sighed in relief as everyone that was invited made it to the event tonight. Putting down the list, you were ready to go back in before you were surprised by a familiar voice.

“Look here, beautiful,” you turned around and smiled at the camera pointing towards you. As the sound of the camera goes off, you lunged forward to hug the one person you were waiting to see tonight. “You sure you’re not one of the pieces of art tonight?” He raised his eyebrow as he eyes you up and down, eyes on your legs a little longer before going back up to your face. “I could say the same about you,” you looked at the man before you, dressed in all black. He had a black turtleneck on, a little tight as you can almost trace the outline of his hard chest, black pants that accentuated his thighs, a black blazer and gold jewellery, on his hands, the one you so badly want on your throat. To top it off, he juxtaposed his gold clad hands with silver jewellery for his ear piercings, lip piercing, and brow piercing. His dark hair was slicked back, with a strand or two dangling at the front intentionally.

Shaking his head slightly, he had his arm around your waist and snuck a kiss to the side of your hair, careful not to ruin your hair and makeup. He guided you two into the building and as much as you two wanted to spend the night in each other’s embrace, you two needed to get to work. Jungkook apologised every two minutes to go take photos and before he could utter another apology, you told him to get work done first and that you’ll save a seat for him at the table. You and your friends circled the gala, taking the time to finally admire the pieces of art on the wall. You wandered a bit too far to the end, admiring a certain piece that seemed to catch your eye.

“Beautiful artwork,” a low voice greeted your ear. You turned around to see the face of a man you greeted not too long ago, remembering that he was one of the names on the VIP guestlist tonight. “It certainly is,” you responded with a smile.

“Glad you agree. Though the painting up on the wall could rival you as well,” you turned your head towards the man, eyes widening at the not-so-subtle pick-up line, before letting out a chuckle. “That was a good one,” you responded.

Mirroring your response, the man proceeded to hold his hand out, “Kim Seokjin.” You remembered his name and you also remembered the three little stars next to his name, signalling that he was probably one of the potential investors Taehyung was hoping to impress tonight. You accepted the handshake before introducing yourself. “Are you part of the organisers? I saw you at the front earlier.”

“Yes actually. I’m part of the team that planned the event,” you smiled politely.

“Excellent work, Y/N. This is honestly of the best exhibitions I’ve ever gone to. Everything looks amazing. So does the organiser herself.” You blush at the blatant flirtatious remarks and laughed it off. While you knew nothing much about the man himself, you knew he was a great businessman, having opened doors to several start-ups and aspiring artists. You knew his intentions with you were nothing but innocent icebreakers, so you played along. “Well Seokjin, if you really like the exhibition, you are going to love all the pieces of art here. The event is merely a reflection of Taehyung’s aesthetics.”

He smiled upon your remark and glanced at the artwork in front of him, taking his time to soak in the details. “I’m not a pro at art but I’m guessing by the turnout of the event, Taehyung is really someone I should pay attention to. I’ve seen the articles and his social media presence, so I am quite open to giving him the push he needs.” While Seokjin is no art critic or major enthusiast, his passion lies in helping those who need help. Starting from scratch, he managed to build his empire by himself and now that he is stable, all he wants to do is provide the same opportunities to those who struggled like him at the start. Based on the articles you’ve read about him, he was quite the philanthropist and has no plans in stopping his business from expanding. The feeling of success would really set in if a major investor like Seokjin were to take an interest in Taehyung’s work, considering how impressed he is with the set-up of the event. You wanted nothing more than everyone to reap the benefits of this amazing gala.

“Taehyung is definitely a great talent. He’s young and influential, and is constantly bursting with great ideas,” you say with hopes he would actually consider working with Taehyung. “I have no doubt about that,” he chuckles.

“Hey guys can we get a picture?” Your heads turn around to see Rose, a friend of yours that is part of Jungkook’s team. You smiled at Seokjin and Rose, replying with a curt sure thing. Seokjin pulled you closer to his side by your waist and your faces were absolutely close. To those who didn’t know, they might assume you were his date but to you, this was nothing more than an innocent picture, and to Seokjin, this was just among the many other pictures for the ‘gram.

Unbeknownst to you, a piercing gaze sets on the hand on your waist and the giggles that left your lips. Jungkook eyed the whole little transaction and was anything but pleased. Something ignited within him after seeing you being so close to someone that was not him, and it infuriated him even more to see you look at someone in ways that you looked at him. He could have sworn that you liked him back the way he liked you, but at the sight of seeing you so close to Seokjin, it made him feel like you were keeping your options open. Jumping into conclusions, he wanted nothing more but to yank you away and remind you that you belonged to him. It then occurred to him that he needed to do that before it was too late - before you truly expanded your options at the expense of the unspoken clarification of your situationship.

As you bid Seokjin goodbye, you turned around to see Jungkook taking long strides toward you. Your smile faded as you see the expression on his face, seemingly mad about something. “What’s wrong, Kook?” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside to the terrace of the building, which was rather empty considering how everyone went inside to feast on the food. You winced at the sharp tug of your wrist and hastily followed his lead, careful not to trip over your four-inch cream-coloured Manolo Blahniks. As soon as you reached the terrace he let go of your hand and faced you with eyebrows furrowed and his tongue pushing the inside of his cheek.

“Are you oka-? Your sentence was cut off with Jungkook looming over you, causing you to step back involuntarily before Jungkook held you in place with a tight grip on your waist. “What the fuck was that back there?” Your eyebrows furrowed at his question, not knowing what he was referring to.

“Don’t play dumb princess. I saw the way you were looking at Kim Seokjin,” he scoffed and then the realisation hit you, he misunderstood everything. Seeing your lips curling up, Jungkook got even more furious. “I’m not fucking playing Y/N. Are you into him?” Your lips instantly curved downwards, and the anger seeped into you as well, not taking it lightly with how he was sort of accusing you.

“What do you mean? I was just telling him about Taehyung’s work. He’s one of the fucking potential investors.” You pushed him back slightly and Jungkook took that with full offence. “Oh yeah? Seemed to be real cosy just now with his hands on your waist,” his grip on your waist tightened and you sensed that he was not going to back down. Edging him on, you decided to finally ask him, “What’s it fucking to you, Jungkook?” Upon hearing his name as opposed to his usual nickname, he was seething. Before he could say anything, his phone rang, and he let out a huff before picking it up.

“Yeah? Okay. Yeah coming. Wait for me,” Jungkook sighs and chucked his phone back into his pocket with a grunt. “We’re talking about this later. I’m taking you home.” He eyes you with an expression you’ve never seen before. You had never seen him this angry before. He let go of your waist before marching back to the building to continue working, not sparing you a glance any further. You scoffed at the entire incident and instead of putting your mind to it, you decided to go back in and enjoy the rest of the gala with your friends, keeping a mental note to make him explain his actions later.

The night went by with a speech from Taehyung himself, thanking the guests and everyone who took part in making the gala a success. The gala soon turned into a party an hour before the scheduled ending time. Slow R&B and trendy hip-hop songs blasted from the speakers, and everyone was boozed up from the bottomless champagne. The DJ of the night, Min Yoongi, was God-sent. Upon seeing the younger crowd and how the elder guests bid their goodbyes, he decided to switch up the vibe. The remaining guests made their way to the empty centre of the hall and soon created what seemed like an after-party. You and your friends were never ones to miss out on a good sweat to your favourite beats. Turns out, Kim Seokjin is an enthusiast when it came to Jack Harlow and Summer Walker as well – making his way to your group of friends for a few moves or two. Lisa and Jennie swayed their bodies from side to side, with their hands up in the air, mouthing to the lyrics of the song, with Hoseok and Jimin joining in circling their arms around their shoulders, just like the good old days in the club. Jumping into the circle, you swayed your hips from side to side, with the girls hyping you up. Seokjin soon joined in and just as he was about to put his hand on your shoulder, someone beat him to it as you felt a familiar set of arms circling your waist.

Jungkook’s breath hit your neck and Seokjin was anything but bothered, considering he had no ulterior intentions with you. He smiled at Jungkook and was greeted back with a fake smile, not that Seokjin would know. But Jungkook was not letting it go, he pulled you in closer and grinded his hips against yours. You felt your breath hitch at the contact and before you could turn around, Jungkook leaned in closer to whisper into your ear, “Don’t fucking move baby, unless you want me to fuck you in front of him.”

His words sent chills down your spine. This was the first time he’s ever said something like that to you and you couldn’t help but feel your insides bubble from the possessive tone of his voice. You relaxed in his touch and continued what you were doing. Everyone was too preoccupied to notice how Jungkook was practically dry humping you and glaring at Seokjin. In a few seconds, Yoongi spiced up his playlist with a little Chris Brown, with ‘Loyal’ making its way to everyone’s ears. Everyone’s position shifted and you could feel yourself being tugged towards Lisa and Jennie. The three of you continued to sway your hips, humming to the familiar tune. Soon you see Namjoon, his girlfriend Jisoo, Taehyung and Rose making their way towards you guys to join you.

Seokjin took the opportunity to slither his way into the circle and before Jungkook could barge into what seemed like a sacred Chris Brown circle, Seokjin slung his arm around your shoulders and as if it couldn’t get any worse, both of you just had to utter the lyrics “These hoes ain’t loyal”. It felt like something just convulsed inside of Jungkook, he needed to show everyone you were his. You caught Jungkook’s stare and just to further test him, you moved just a little bit closer to Seokjin but it looked way too close for Jungkook’s comfort. If it weren't for the dim lights, you would clearly see how his nostrils flared and jaw tightened at the sight of you pissing him off on purpose. He managed to make his way to where you were and pulled your back towards his chest. He left open kisses on your neck, not giving a shit to the eyes of whoever was looking. “You’re gonna fucking get it when we get home.” He muttered into the shell of your ear and drew kitten licks on it. You swore you felt your nipples harden and you would be lying if you said you weren't a little excited at the statement he made. You brought his hands a little higher to stop right below the curve of your breasts, the lights dim enough to shield what would seem to be an inappropriate gesture. You feel his warm breath on your neck and what felt like a smile. “Don’t test me, baby,” his voice as low as ever, as you pushed your hips back further. Everyone seemed too zoned in to notice you two. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feigned innocence and decided to leave him hanging as you strut towards your group of friends with the intro of Salt-N-Pepa’s ‘Push It’ ringing from the speakers.

A few songs later, everyone agreed it was time to go home. You bid your friends goodbye and Seokjin thanked you, amongst others, for the night of his life after a long time. Lisa and Jennie hugged you goodbye and gave you a knowing look, almost wishing you good luck in officially breaking your barriers tonight. You and Jungkook made your way to his car and the ride home was silent. You didn’t utter a word fearing a fight might start and Jungkook was too angry to say anything. You rolled your eyes from time to time at how he wouldn't even spare you a glance. You looked away from him and faced the window, while Jungkook tightened his grip on the steering wheel, eyebrows facing downwards during the whole 25-minute journey.

As soon as you reached his apartment, you kicked off your heels that were basically torturing your feet tonight. You marched into his room to the dressing table and took off your jewellery and as soon as you begin tugging off your gloves, you looked up in the mirror to see an angry Jungkook charging towards you. He settled his arms around you, caging you as he gripped the table in front of you. You could see his chest heaving as he looked down at the floor. His mouth opened before closing to clench his jaw again,- as if trying to form the right sentences. He looked up at your reflection and you could feel him inching closer. You stared at his dark orbs through his reflection, scared to say anything that might piss him off even further.

“You like having the attention of other men?” He questioned you and your eyes widened and you shook your head. “What? No Jungkook what the fuck?” He wasn’t letting go of what happened. “Do I really need to spell it out for you that you’re mine?” He looks at you intensely. Your heart started beating really fast as you stared back at him. He placed his hands on your waist and you feel his face come closer to yours. You loved the sight you were seeing in the mirror,- as if you two were made for each other.

“Isn’t it obvious that I like you? And I thought it was fucking obvious I wanted you for myself, Y/N. I thought you liked me too the same way. I don’t know what went wrong but I thought we were exclusive. I’m yours and yours only, I’ve never thought of being with anyone else. I thought we were on the same page but tonight it just seemed like I’ve read the whole thing wrong.”

You were beyond stunned. Finally, the long-awaited clarification. You felt like you were on cloud nine upon hearing his words. You placed your palm over his hand. “Jungkook I like you and you only. Heck, whatever we’ve been doing… It’s clear that we don’t just like each other. I want you and you only.” You looked at him, with all seriousness in your tone as you told him how much he meant to you.1

His eyes soften at your words, but his hold on you tightened. “Yeah? You’ve always been my girl.” His insides almost exploded, finally getting to utter the words he’s been dying to say for the longest. Now that everything was out, you no longer felt any shame in what you had to say next.

“Then show me.” You responded with an eyebrow raised.

He chuckled lowly, knowing full well what you were implying. He kissed your temple before he let go of you to bring a chair to sit in front of the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. He took off his blazer and his turtleneck and his belt. Toned muscular body and tattoos just for your eyes. He spread his legs wide and patted his lap. “Strip for me baby girl, and come here.” You did as you were told, slowly undressing, and you could see the bulge in his pants grow at the sight of your lacy undergarments. You loved the sight in front of you - a shirtless Jungkook was not going to hide the lust you had for him. “Take it all off, baby girl.” He palmed his crotch and instructed further with half-lidded eyes and a finger brushing his lips.

As you stripped off the last piece of clothing you had, you made your way towards him, wanting to straddle him but he turned you around and seated you on his lap with your back against his taut chest. You look at the sinful reflection in front of you. He spread your legs wider with his knees, groaning at the sight of you in front of him. He brought his palms to your tits, pinching your nipples, eliciting a moan from you. You tried to close your legs but he pushed it further with his knees. He sucked on a spot on your neck, before letting his hands glide down from your tits to your wet heat.

“Fuck baby girl, always so ready for me.” He growled at the touch of your damp pussy. He circled your clit slowly and you moaned in delight. With one hand on your tit, and the other on your clit, he stared at your reflection, proud of the position you were in. He smirked at the fact that he was the only one that got to see you like this. “Can you squirt for me like last time princess?” The question sounded more like an order.

“I… I don’t know, that was the first time I’ve ever done that…” Your shy response only further inflated his ego. To know that he was the one that caused it caused his pants to tighten further.

He circled your clit faster and felt your wetness coat his tattoo-clad fingers, he slipped two fingers and you moaned at the contact. He pumped his fingers fast and you closed your eyes at the sensation building up. “Open your fucking eyes baby.” He said as he slid his other hand up to your throat, wanting you to look at the mess you are for him. As you opened your eyes, you were so amazed at the ways your bodies were connected. He stared at you through the mirror with lust-filled eyes, your legs spread wide for him on his lap, as his fingers fuck you into oblivion. You did your best to keep your eyes open, the lewd sight in front of you further fuelling your insides.

His thumb circled your clit as he continued to pump into you. He altered his speed and had you wanting more of his touch. He continued to spew dirty words into your ears, praising you for being such a good little girl for him.

“That’s it baby girl, so fucking good for me. You wanna cum for me?” Effortlessly, he had you in the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

“Yes, yes daddy! Fucking yes, don’t stop!” He almost stops at the way you called him daddy. You were his sexual fantasies incarnated and he was sure you were meant for him at this very moment. As if you were a fucking angel from heaven, he increases his speed and at the sound of his new favourite nickname.

“Yeah? You’re daddy’s good little slut aren’t you? Cum for daddy, show daddy how much you love his fingers.” His hold on your throat tightened and his insane speed in finger-fucking you almost throws you off the edge. His dirty talk fuelling your orgasm even more as you feel a knot form in your lower half.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop daddy!” You begged him as you feel your orgasm approaching. In a matter of seconds, you reach your high and liquid gushes out of you as his fingers leave your pussy to rub your clit fast. Jungkook groans at the sight of you squirting all over his bedroom floor, and he’s even more turned on when he sees the remnants of your orgasm staining his mirror. As you gauge your breathing and finally open your eyes, you see Jungkook leaving wet kisses on your neck.

"Showed you well, didn’t I? You're all mine, princess. My fucking girl," he said lowly before biting your neck. He brought his fingers up and tapped your lips, and you opened them and sucked his fingers off, eyes not leaving his. “Fucking made for me.” He groans at the way your tongue circles his wet fingers and swiftly gets up planting your feet on the floor.

He hoists you up and places you on the bed, before getting rid of his pants and boxers. His cock springs up to his abdomen, the tip red and angry, almost as if it was suffocating from the tight constraints of his clothing.

You got on all fours and made your way to his cock, quickly grabbing his length and swirling your tongue over his tip. “Fucking hell princess, warn me next time.” He growled at the unexpected gesture from you.

You moaned in delight and sucked on his cock like a popsicle. You toyed with his balls and that seemed to elicit a high pitched groan from him. “Baby girl so cock-hungry?” He asks and all you do is hummed as you continued sucking is cock, putting it deeper into your throat before choking and releasing it. He grabbed a fistful of your hair before thrusting his cock back into your mouth, keeping a steady pace has he fucks your face.

You bring your fingers to your clit to get off and Jungkook pushes his cock deeper inside you. “Fucking perfect, your mouth is … Oh god…” He can’t even finish his sentence as you suck his tip. Jungkook feels himself on the verge of his orgasm so he moves himself away from your mouth and pushes you downwards towards the bed. “I’m going to cum inside you only.” He says as he starts rubbing your sensitive clit, and you feel a second orgasm coming.

He brings his tongue down to your pussy and his tongue prods into your entrance before he sucks your clit harshly, earning a high-pitched moan from you. He continues to work his tongue on your pussy and soon you felt your second orgasm setting in and you twitch as he places a kiss on your clit.

Jungkook fucking loves the way you were sprawled in front of him right now, all fucked out and soaking wet. “Daddy’s gonna need you to come one more time on his cock, princess.” Your eyes opened at the remark and you see him flipping you on all fours, ass up face down, before his cock slowly enters you.

“Fuck how are you still so tight?!” He groans in pleasure. “Fuck me hard daddy.” You urged him. He began to move fast and the room was filled with groans, moans and grunts alongside skin slapping sounds. You pleaded for him to fuck you faster and he complied with your request.

“Daddy’s good little slut…” He says as he brings his hands down to smack your ass. You moaned at the slap and played with your clit. He spanks you once more and rubs the redness that was forming on your skin. “My fucking perfect angel. You're so good to daddy.” He grabbed your hips and began thrusting harder into you.

You don’t know how but you felt another orgasm approach you in your sensitive state. Your walls clenched around Jungkook’s cock and seconds later your third orgasm washes over you, making you slump into the sheets, a sight so familiar to Jungkook already. He feels his orgasm approaching and increased his speed.

“I’m gonna cum, princess,” Jungkook says with a low grunt. “Cum inside me please daddy.” You begged him and he lost it. Soon you felt hot spurts of cum coat your walls and his pace slowed down. You two moaned at the feeling and panted as Jungkook rides out his orgasm.

He slowly pulled out his cock and hungry eyes set on the string of white liquid that followed through. He couldn’t help it but gather it with his fingers and pushed it back into your cunt, earning a whimper out of you. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking hot with my cum in you. Just let me play with you for a bit.” His eyes were glued to your pussy possessively, wanting you to be full of his cum. He’s dreamt of this for so long and now that it’s happening right in front of him, he can’t help but push his cum back into you.

Your breath quickened and Jungkook took that as a sign that you wanted more. He inserted another finger and slowly fucked his cum back into you. You pushed your ass towards him, urging him to go faster. With how soaked you were, you only needed a little bit to reach you high.

“Fucking slut just can’t get enough can you?” He mocks you as he continues to push his fingers back in. You played with your nipples and you nodded. “Want you daddy, wanna cum again.”

He threw his head back at the sound of your lewd words. He continued to fuck you with his fingers and within seconds, he heard your breath quicken and the soft yes repeating like a mantra. A few more thrusts from his ring-clad fingers had you cumming for the fourth and final time for the night. You rolled over and the sweat glistened on your body, making you look like a Goddess under the orange lights. "You did so well baby girl, fuck," he praises you with a few pecks on your chest and face. You hummed with your eyes closed, feeling the tiredness seep in.

Your eyes then opened in shock when you heard a click sound and the flash go off. You see Jungkook behind his camera, taking a few more photos for his own personal safekeeping. "Oh my God, Kook!" You attempted to cover your body but Jungkook pinned your wrist to the side of your head. "Pictures last longer right?" He smirked and you scoffed. "Or you can just do it again to me, you know," you rolled your eyes and then closed them. Jungkook chuckles and puts his camera on the side table, taking the time to finally admire you. Your smudged make-up, glowing body, evident cum stains in between your legs, red marks on your neck, waist and hips. He would kill to see you like this every single day, not just fucked out on his bed but just being on his bed in general.

After what seemed like 10 minutes, you feel Jungkook wiping your centre with a washcloth and he settles himself next to you. Breaking the silence, Jungkook opens his mouth first to say something.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” You instantly turned your head towards him and see the sincerity in his eyes. Relief washes over him for finally admitting his feelings and you smiled back at him, not too surprised at his statement. “I love you too Kook, always have.” You moved closer to him and you kissed him. The kiss was passionate and everything just felt right.

“Just to be clear, you’re my boyfriend right?” You broke the kiss off and questioned him. He laughs at your question. “Of course I am, I don’t know about you but in my head you were always my girlfriend.”

Your heart melted upon hearing his words. Both of you laughed at the idiots you’ve been all this while, playing a part in the unspoken relationship you two made complicated. While some things are better left unspoken, some things are better when said. Just like now, you guys can tell everyone about your relationship without shrugging it off.

a/n: okay bye shielding myself from the filth now

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #kim namjoon #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #kpop smut #fanfic #smut

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cliffburtonscig · 7 months

Text

MASTERLIST

SMUT: ⁎ FLUFF: ~ ANGST: ৻

METALLICA

James Hetfield

feel it *

Kirk Hammett

Lars Ulrich

Cliff Burton

Jason Newsted

Robert Trujillo

GNR

Axl Rose

Steven Adler

Saul "Slash" Hudson

Izzy Stradlin

quiet *

Duff McKagan

MOTLEY CRUE

Nikki Sixx

Mick Mars

Tommy Lee

Vince Neil

QUEEN

Freddie Mercury

Roger Taylor

John Deacon

Brian May

NIRVANA

Dave Grohl

Krist Novoselic

CRIMINAL MINDS

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Others

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rodgers

Peter Parker

Tony Stark

Thor Odinson

Wade Wilson

Others

THE WALKING DEAD

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixson

Carl Grimes

Glenn Rhee

Negan

Others

STRANGER THINGS

Billy Hargrove

001

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Will Byers (aged up)

Dustin Henderson (aged up)

Mike Wheeler (aged up)

Jim Hopper

Jonathan Byers

Lucas Sinclair (aged up)

others

HARRY POTTER

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

Severus Snape

Ron Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Sirius Black

Cedric Diggory

Neville Longbottom

Remus Lupin

Bellatrix Lestrange

Regulus Black

Lucius Malfoy

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Lorenzo Berkshire

Theodore Nott

Blaise Zambini

Oliver Wood

METAL LORDS

Kevin Schlieb

Hunter Slyvester

OUTERBANKS

Rafe Cameron

JJ Maybank

John Rutledge

Pope Heyward

BTS

Kim Seokjin

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

Kim Namjoon

Park Jimin

Kim Taehyung

Jeon Jungkook

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hwaswh0r3 · 7 days

Text

'*•.¸♡ABOUT HWASWH0R3♡¸.•*'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚INTERESTS AND BASICS˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Interests/Hobbies

— Art, Piano, Watching Movies, editing

Basics

—Black (AA), old enough, active on here and TikTok, will NOT sugarcoat opinions, I will be respectful though, If you recommend me something to read or watch I’ll probably look into it. Occasional Anime watcher, mainly jjk and dmcb. you can message me about/send me anything, I’m talkative so I’ll always answer and probably within twenty minutes…

More importantly

—This blog supports Palestine, Congo, and Yemen. !sraeL supporters shouldn’t interact.

—Anti Taylor Swift and anti Mamamoo

—Anyone can interacts; I don’t post smut or porn links so wtv

DNI

—racists, anti-anything lgbtq related, dsmp fans, pro shippers of any real people, Swifties, Drake fans occasionally (depends), Jackson Wang fans…

Music Artists I Like.・。.・゜✭・.

♩Kpop/Krnb Artists♩

—BTS, Red Velvet, Ateez, ITZY, Twice (ot8), New Jeans, Fromis_9, KIOF, NCT127, DEAN, Baekhyun, Tabber, SAAY, LEEBADA

♪Non Kpop Artists♪

—PARTYNEXTDOOR, Syd, Beyonce, JID, J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar, Summer Walker, H.E.R., GIVĒON, Ethel Cain, Sleep Token, Melanie Martinez, willow smith, Rhianna, Daniel Caesar, Bruno Mars, Megan Thee Stallion, 6LACK, offset, Thea Weeknd, Lil Tecca, Lil Yatchy, THE INTERNET, TV Girl, Frank Ocean

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* Favorite Shows and Movies

Shows

—The Boondocks, Girl From Nowhere, Criminal Minds, Abbott Elementary, Bobs Burgers, Scandal, The end of the F*****g World, All American, Living Single, Girlfriends, New Girl, Accused, Pose

Movies

—Waves (2019), The Diary of a Teenage Girl (2015), Moonlight (2016), Thirteen (2003), Girl Interrupted (1999)

*＊✿❀FAVORITE YOUTUBERS❀✿＊*

Berleezy (♡), CoryxKenshin, ImDontai, Druski, Danny Gonzalez, Kurtis Connor, Drew Gooden, Spikima Movies, North of The Border, Kiwi Tapes, EmKay, r/slash, Chad Chad, tuv, j aubrey, SunnyV2, OverSimplified, Adam Neely

. ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ . Only other Socials

—@hwaswh0r3 on TikTok

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strangepumpkinfantasies · 2 years

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My Prompts 🗡️

‘‘You stayed for me, I like that’‘

‘‘I’d do anything you want please don’t go’‘

‘‘I want you to be mine’‘

‘‘I knew you were jealous’‘

‘‘Heart cookies’‘

‘‘Took you so long, now make love to me’‘

‘‘Slow down babe, we have all the time in the world’‘

‘‘Quit teasing or else’‘

‘‘You better behave, my homeboys are watching’‘

‘‘I don’t want an apple pie, I want a creampie’‘

‘‘Fine by me, just don’t cry about it later’‘

‘‘The sight is astonishing’‘

‘‘You like riding motors?’‘

‘‘I prefer riding your motor *wink*’‘

‘’Excuse me? what’s my name again?’‘

‘‘Please, I’ll be a good girl.’‘

‘‘Call me a whore all you want, but Ik you want to touch me’‘

‘‘That’s so wrong, we can’t’‘

‘‘I want you to take my virginity’‘

‘‘If you weren’t so crazy I’d say you were insane’‘

‘‘I know you’re my kidnapper but I don’t care’‘

‘‘You’re such a brat’‘

‘‘You’re hot and I’m crazy for you’‘

‘‘What? You want me to get you pregnant?’‘

‘‘Let’s consummate our marriage’‘

‘‘You think you own me asshole?’‘

‘‘I’d gladly end your suffering’‘

‘‘The fuck I look like to you’‘

‘‘You’re gonna regret inviting me to your house’‘

‘‘I’m not the right guy for you’‘

‘‘That’s what you get for embarrassing me in front of everyone’‘

‘‘I won’t kill you yet, I thought I might have a little fun with you first.’‘

‘‘Sit on my face, lemme slurp you like it’s pasta’‘

‘‘As long as I’m your boss, you’ll do as I say’‘

‘‘Have some dignity, I said I don’t want you’‘

‘‘Stop with all the drama, isn’t that what you wanted?’‘

‘‘I’ll fuck your brains out’‘

‘‘I own this cunt, what you thought?’‘

‘‘I might be mentally ill but I know how to pleasure a women’‘

‘‘Please I can’t take it anymore’‘

‘‘I’m preparing you for the bigger prize’‘

‘‘No, not in my workplace, they’ll fire me’‘

‘‘That’s the beauty of taking a risk’‘

‘‘You can’t dominate me, I’m the man here’‘

‘‘Trust me, you don’t wanna trigger the monster in me.’‘

‘‘Sorry, I don’t do slow or gentle’‘

‘‘I’m a monster, I can’t be loved’‘

‘‘Being on your period or not you’re taking that dick’‘

‘‘Keep your mouth shut or I’ll shut it for you’‘

‘‘Try and make me’‘

‘‘Get naked or I’ll slash your throat’‘

‘‘No, we’re in public’‘

‘‘I thought you were better than that’‘

‘‘You’re so weak but has a sharp mouth’‘

‘‘I’m having you for dessert’‘

‘‘So you like choking? little slut’‘

‘‘I want everyone to hear your screaming’‘

‘‘I am dangerous so don’t uncuff me’‘

‘‘Bullshit! you’re drunk’‘

‘‘Playing tough, where’s your confidence now?’‘

I’ll write for the following:

Simon Ghost Riley

John Mactavish {Soap}

Evan Peters as {Kit, Tate, James, Kai, Jimmy, Kyle, Peter max}

Bill Scarsgard as {Himself, Roman, other..}

Billy Hargrove

Billy loomis

Manny montana {As Rio}

Damon Salvatore

Niklaus Mikaelson

Thomas Shelby

Void Stiles

Derek Hale

Isaac Lahey

Theo Raeken

Michael Myers

The joker

Yuri Boyka

Eddie Brock

Enzo

Peter Parker

Kai Parker

Others:

BTS members

GOT 7 members

BIGBANG members

BLOCK B members

MONSTA X members

NCT Lucas

Other korean actors as well.

Whenever I start simping over a new character, it’ll be added to the list.

Chose whatever you like from these prompts with whom you want it with, either from this list or not I accept new ideas.

A/N : Yes I’m bold enough to write any genre so don’t hesitate.

S* Smut

F* Fluff

A* Angst

And yes I write non consent / Violence / Dark shit.

As long as you’re +18 we’re ready to dive in.

So don’t be shy, send requests.

Check this out: {Recently written}

Billy Loomis series.

59 notes · View notes

4joonkookie2 · 10 months

Text

Live!

Pairing: Namjoon x Jungkook

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Jungkook interrupts Namjoon's livestream to take advantage of their free-use arrangement :)

Tags/Notes: smut, free-use, butt plugs, teasing, anal sex, oral sex, blowjobs, swallowing, slut, vlive, weverse, public sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, kissing, JK is irresistible, Top!NJ, Bottom!JK, established relationship, Joon is down BAD, JK's ass prevails, better to overuse names than be unclear.

UNCENSORED MOODBOARD

---------

After a long day of work, Namjoon sits down in his studio and starts a Vlive. It’s the last thing he’ll have to do today before he can go home.

The stream gets going, comments invading and scrolling down the screen. Namjoon scans through as best he can as they zoom downward.

He greets his fans and sorts through questions about his hair, his projects, and the other members.

Your hair is getting so long!

Yoongi Marry me!

When is your album coming out???

Namjoon is startled by a knock at the door, not expecting anybody. Visits from other members are typically planned and Namjoon thought he was alone today.

“Please, wait for me,” he says. In caution, he aims the camera at the ceiling.

He opens the door to Jungkook, who stands in the doorway, effortlessly beautiful in his baggy shirt and sweatpants.

“Hi,” he says. Just the sound of his voice has Namjoon's pulse racing.

He pulls Jungkook inside, shutting the door behind them. He presses him to the door and greets him with a kiss on the lips.

Hunger takes over Namjoon. He presses his body against Jungkook’s, exploring his mouth with his tongue, and running hands down the length of his back and over his ass. Jungkook whimpers in his grasp.

He has to step back and gain his composure, almost forgetting where he is and what he’s doing. Every encounter with Jungkook is like falling into a deep hole that he can’t crawl out of. It’s intense and all-encompassing in the best way.

When he's alone, he can be normal. He can think. But the moment Jungkook comes around, it's like his brain turns to mush. It makes the nature of their free-use arrangement thrilling, but it also makes Namjoon susceptible to Jungkook’s whims at the worst moments.

“I’m live right now,” Namjoon says in his most hushed voice, reminding himself too.

“Oh?” Jungkook looks only half surprised.

In more caution, Namjoon runs to the computer and mutes the microphone.

“Maybe give me 20 minutes? I’ll finish early.” He gets his lips on Jungkook again. He holds his face in his hands, feeling himself drowning.

“No,” Jungkook hums, shaking his head sweetly, voice going up at the end. He wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck.

Namjoon titters nervously. He understands their arrangement, but he’s literally live streaming.

“That’s the agreement, Hyung. Anytime, anyplace, anywhere,” Jungkook quips. “I’ll be quiet,” he says. “Unless you want to use the safe word.”

Namjoon gulps and shakes his head. He couldn’t possibly resist Jungkook.

“Will you join me?” Namjoon asks, in a last-ditch effort. “ARMY would love to see you.”

Jungkook slyly shakes his head.

Namjoon has a sneaking suspicion that Jungkook has planned this. He makes his way back to his chair to sit, hesitant. He angles the screen away so as not to expose Jungkook.

Jungkook arranges himself on the couch, out of view and behind the camera.

He removes his shirt, tossing it to the side. “Go on, Hyung. They’re waiting.”

Namjoon nods, taking a deep breath. Has to get back on or management will be breathing down his neck.

He says a silent prayer before pointing the camera to himself again. He reconnects the audio and continues. Comments have flooded the session.

Where are you????

What happened????

Namjoooooooooooon!!

“Sorry, I had some technical difficulties,” he explains, easing the virtual crowd. “It was just a staff member.”

From the corner of his eye, Jungkook rubs hands over his bare chest and nipples, caressing down the washboard of his stomach.

It's everything Namjoon can do to keep at least one eye on the screen.

Jungkook’s cock grows in his sweats. He licks his fingers and keeps one hand tweaking his nipple, gasping a little. He rubs over his crotch and gets ahold of his cock, sheathed by fabric. He looks down at it, then at Namjoon.

Jungkook’s face is a bit flushed now, lips parted as he rubs over himself. Namjoon's mouth waters .

Jungkook keeps his eyes locked on Namjoon. Removing his sweatpants, he reveals a lack of underwear. He drags his fingertips between his thighs, tickling himself before stroking at his hardened shaft and swiping pre at the tip.

Namjoon squirms in his seat. Time isn’t moving fast enough. He has to be live for at least a half hour and there are still 15 minutes left.

He does his best to focus, putting both eyes on the screen. He reads comments and answers questions as Jungkook lies stark naked on the couch. It’s their little secret.

Dissatisfied with the attention he’s receiving, Jungkook stands and approaches Namjoon, still out of view of the camera.

Namjoon looks up at him, trying to do two things at once.

'Back up,’ Jungkook mouths. Namjoon scoots his rolling chair back, doing his best to appear casual. He panics when Jungkook gets to his knees just under the camera.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon whispers, aiming the screen at the ceiling and muting the audio.

“Relax,” Jungkook soothes. “Just a little longer,” he says, settling between Namjoon’s legs.

Who’s with you???

What are you looking at?

Show us!

They’ve made use of this arrangement endless times, but it was always at least behind a closed door. How could they do it like this in front of fans? What if management catches wind of this? It’s terrifying and thrilling, all at once.

But he can’t bring himself to stop Jungkook. He’s irresistible .

Settled between his knees, Jungkook gently caresses Namjoon’s thighs at first. Resetting the equipment, Namjoon focuses his attention on the viewers again.

Jungkook signals for him to lift his ass slightly so he can lower his sweatpants. Namjoon riffs, seemingly shifting from the waist up.

He maintains composure and reads comments, thinking less about Jungkook and feeling comfortable just having him below.

"Yes, the track list will come out soon."

"I worked on it for a long time, I hope you enjoy it."

Jungkook massages Namjoon’s cock and places little kisses through his briefs. He rubs his face and mouth against the clothed shaft. Jungkook’s warm breath and the friction of the fabric create a unique sensation.

It’s soothing, in a way, and puts Namjoon in a more relaxed headspace. He muses with fans over his last trip to the art gallery and his Instagram photos.

What’s your favorite gallery?

Yoongi Marry me!

His stomach drops when Jungkook pulls his shaft from the slit in his shorts. He places gentle little kitten licks at the top, so soft they almost tickle. Namjoon’s face and body heat up, cock fully erect. He does his best to carry on.

He tangles encouraging hands in Jungkook’s hair and nearly chokes when he feels his warm mouth wrap around him. Jungkook is merciless, even letting out a little moan as he takes him in. Namjoon clears his throat over the noise.

What was that?

You look flushed, Joonie.

Who’s with you??

Are you feeling well?

Namjoon stops him, placing his hand on Jungkook’s. It’s a signal to slow him down and Jungkook does, creating a new rhythm.

“I’m ok, just very tired. I’ll rest soon.”

Namjoon relaxes, answering easy comment questions while Jungkook softly sucks below. He pretends to look down at his phone so he can see Jungkook. He looks proud and beautiful, like his lips were meant to be wrapped around Namjoon's cock.

Namjoon looks at the clock: 4 minutes to go.

Jungkook eventually stops sucking. He just sits prettily with Namjoon’s cock in his mouth, occasionally shifting and swallowing pooled spit, keeping his cock warm. He patiently traces sweet circles on Namjoon's skin with his fingertips, resting his cheek on his thigh.

Jungkook looks up, batting his eyelashes and smiling around Namjoon’s shaft.

“Well, I'll need to end this soon. I have more work to do,” Namjoon says, cutting the stream a few minutes short.

He quickly blows kisses and waves to fans before ripping the audio cable from the computer.

“Fuck, Jungkook, tell me you didn’t know I was live,” he whines, pushing his chair out.

“Of course I did,” Jungkook smiles, wiping his mouth. He pulls Namjoon’s sweats around his ankles and reaches a hand up to get help off the ground.

They share a sweet kiss before Namjoon tangles a hand in Jungkook's dark locks and yanks it back, causing him to yelp.

“You knew what you were doing by coming here,” he growls, shoving his tongue in Jungkook’s mouth to taste him. “Such a fucking slut.”

Jungkook whines, nodding in his grasp.

Namjoon laughs. This isn’t a thing. He said it in the heat of the moment but didn't expect Jungkook to agree .

“Yeah? Are you a fucking slut?” The words encourage him.

Jungkook unlatches Namjoon’s hand. “Your slut,” he whispers, taking a step back. He gets to his knees on the couch, facing away. He grabs the edge and bends over, arching his back as best he can to expose a plug, lubed and stuffed between his cheeks.

Namjoon groans. “Fuck, Jungkook,” he says, groping at his cock. It’s leaking and angry red at the tip now.

“Wanted to be ready for you, Hyung,” Jungkook coos, playing with the base and gasping as he pushes it in and out of himself. “Do you like it?”

Namjoon walks over to him, hypnotized by the sight. Jungkook’s pretty pink hole clenches around a slippery plug and the idea that it’s been inside him this whole time sets a fire off in Namjoon.

He nods, leaning down to kiss and lick around the plug. He turns it and watches Jungkook squirm. “I like it.”

He yanks the plug out and lets it thump to the ground, watching Jungkook’s hole wink and clench around nothing.

“My slut,” He hums before replacing the plug with four fingers, stretching him even further. Jungkook yelps, trying to adjust. Namjoon gently tilts Jungkook’s head back from behind for a languid kiss.

“Get on your back,” he instructs, removing his own shirt.

Jungkook lies on his back, body splayed across the cushions. He brings his knees up higher, wrapping hands around the outside of his thighs to pry himself open. Namjoon stands and watches him for a moment, stroking himself at the sight. He’s perfect, open, and waiting for him.

Jungkook whines at Namjoon’s hesitation.

“Oh, you’re a desperate little slut, aren’t you?” Namjoon taunts, and Jungkook nods feverishly again.

Namjoon teases, leaning down to drag teeth over Jungkook's neck. He grinds their cocks together, desperate for any friction. He prods the tip at the opening and barely slips inside.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook whines.

“Say please ,” Namjoon instructs.

Jungkook drags Namjoon’s bottom lip between his teeth. He looks right into his eyes, bucking his hips up.

“ Please , fuck me,” he begs.

Namjoon pulls Jungkook's bottom closer to him, lines up, and plows his thick cock inside. Jungkook groans when he slams into the hilt.

He grips Jungkook’s delicate waist, pushing himself in until his balls knock against Jungkook’s flesh. He grinds his hips, stretching him thoroughly. Draping Jungkook’s ankles over his shoulders, he pounds, gaining speed.

Jungkook has his arms up and over his head, palms wrapped around the arm of the couch as Namjoon fucks him into it. The couch bangs against the wall and shifts on the ground as his hips piston into Jungkook.

He pounds into the deepest part of him, making up for the nearly thirty minutes Jungkook taunted and teased him. He was egged on by how perfect he looked beneath the chair and the way his doe eyes looked up at him with a mouth full of his cock.

“Joonie, ah, Hyung!” Cum oozes from Jungkook’s aching cock and Namjoon drills into that spot, willing more to spill.

The sound of his name riles him further. He folds Jungkook in half, pressing his thighs flush with his tummy. He thrusts and buries himself as deep as he can go.

“Where do you want me to come?” Namjoon asks, feeling himself get close.

“Inside, please, Joonie, fill me up,” he pants. “Need your cum.”

Namjoon loops his arms around Jungkook’s thighs, pulling him even closer to use his body.

He grunts and groans as a powerful orgasm bursts from him. He fills Jungkook to the brim as fingernails dig into his back.

He slowly pulls out, admiring Jungkook’s messy hole, blown out and sensitive. Namjoon leans down to kiss him again and gets hold of his cock. He uses his hands and mouth to finish Jungkook.

Namjoon swallows him down, loving the taste of him on his tongue.

Focusing on the tip, he flicks his tongue over the top and strokes the shaft. Jungkook’s whines get higher and louder, hips bucking up. Namjoon increases his pace and holds his tongue out. Beautiful sounds emerge from Jungkook as he shoots into Namjoon’s open mouth, swallowing every drop.

Namjoon collapses on Jungkook’s chest, and they lay, used, and spent. Namjoon makes a trail of kisses down the line of Jungkook’s neck. They kiss and cuddle, happy in their post-coital bliss.

Namjoon’s hand rustles at the ground and he replaces the plug, reveling in the idea of his come lingering inside Jungkook.

Jungkook glances just past Namjoon and lets out a slight gasp. “Hyung,” he whispers.

Namjoon turns to where Jungkook is looking and sees the reflection of themselves in the camera. The stream is still live.

Viewers have skyrocketed and comments move twice as fast down the screen.

can’t hear you, but we can see you!

Jungkook’s so good!

Yoongi, marry me

what that mouth do, Joonie?????

Wow! thighs…

You guys are all red! So Cute!

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ladyartemesia · 4 years

Text

The Mark of Yun-Ki

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Hybrid/ABO AU • Royalty AU • Fantasy AU • Daechwita AU

Summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir... but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

Word Count: 8600

Rating: Explicit

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS PROHIBITED. I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY INTERACTIONS WITH PERSONS UNDER THE AGE OF 18. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Warnings: ABO/Hybrid sexual dynamics and mating, claiming/marking/biting, explicit sexual content, impreg, a brief mention of slavery, rut/heat sex

Content Notes: All flashback scenes are in italics. In this universe, being a hybrid has a distinctly spiritual/mystical connotation.

Acknowledgements: This story was not easy to write, but... in spite of the (or perhaps because of it) I have never been prouder of anything I have ever written. It was definitely a new type of challenge and it took multiple people who are extremely special to me to bring it to life.

To @ppersonna (Lindy) and @taetaewonderland (Donna) ... You are truly beautiful souls. You encouraged me relentlessly, let me bounce ideas off of you, and continue to be such wonderful friends. You filled in the gap every time i doubted myself. You never let me think less of myself. I adore you. Thank you so very much. Truly.

To @lemonjoonah (Lemon) and @xjoonchildx (Ana)...You saved this story. I grew frustrated with it so many times and you never ceased to provide brilliant insight into JUST what I needed to add or take away to really bring this world to life. You are lovely friends and the time you spent helping me build (and rebuild) this story have made it truly sparkle. Thank you for your care and fabulous friendship.

To my Angels in the BTS SMUT HUB... So many of you gave me ideas about this story and encouraged me to keep writing. When I really struggled, you sent me countless messages of support and love. You are truly my people and my heart is so full of affection for you.

“Why is he blindfolded?”

The guard beside you shifted uncomfortably.

“The Emperor ordered that his eyes be covered at all times.”

Your gaze traveled covertly over your surroundings, assessing the dimly lit chamber with practiced disdain.

“Leave us.”

“My lady, I cannot—”

“Do you know who I am, soldier?”

Your voice slashed through the air like an icy whip.

“Y-yes, my la—”

“Then you know it is unwise to displease my family.” One jeweled hand came to rest dramatically on your chest. “Your daughter is not yet fifteen ...it would be such a pity to orphan one so young.”

The soldier bowed almost too quickly.

“I will be outside, my lady,” he bowed again and again as he backed toward the door, “I meant no disrespect.”

It slammed shut.

Then you were alone… save for the notorious prisoner bound and blindfolded in the cell before you.

He was clearly aware of your presence, but made no move or sound of acknowledgement, not even when your footsteps brought you to the very edge of his enclosure.

“Prisoner AG-D2... name unknown... crime unknown...” your hand travelled up to your hair to withdraw a long silver pin, “no date of birth, no date of arrest...”

The prisoner jerked suddenly when the sound of your pin tripping the cell’s iron lock reached his unnaturally sensitive ears.

His nostrils flared as an almost familiar scent - buried beneath a decade of fury and fear - curled through him.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

The words were more of a growl than a question, but the only answer he received was the sound of his cell door creaking open.

“Why are you here?” he tried again.

Lonely silence greeted his query and he wondered idly if you meant to intimidate him.

It will take more than that, pet.

“I am here to tell you a story...”

The prisoner barked out an empty laugh at your strange reply.

“I love a good story,” he whispered bitterly. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit at his spirit.

His clothes were worn, but well cared for and the body beneath them was sleek and strong.

Wrists tied together, eyes covered… but still every inch the proud warrior.

This was not a man accustomed to being bound.

“You were not raised like the rest of our people... The tales of our customs and our gods were - deliberately - never taught to you...But it is past time that you knew of them.”

He grinned, granting you a wicked flash of razor sharp fangs.

“Are all the Emperor’s prisoners tortured with fairytales?”

“Charming,” you snorted, dragging a small stool from the corner of his cell. The prisoner’s ears flicked curiously at the sound.

“Aren’t you afraid of me, storyteller? What if I’ve been imprisoned for devouring beautiful women like yourself?”

You shook your head in amusement as you settled onto the stool.

“Have you devoured many beautiful women then?”

“Oh absolutely-” his grin took on a decidedly sinful slant, “but I doubt that’s why I’m here.”

Strange fluttering erupted in your chest at his words.

You resolutely ignored it.

“Then why are you here?”

The prisoner was silent as he considered whether or not to be honest with you... In the end, it didn’t really matter one way or the other.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “I was told the Emperor himself gave the order... I was never told why.”

Your fingernails dug painfully into the palm of your hand, but you offered no other outward reaction to his words.

“And what do you know of the current Min Emperor?”

“Not much... Stories say he is young and handsome with the temper of a demon… And his people endure it because he is the favorite of an ancient god.”

Your jaw clenched.

“That is correct. Our citizens are privileged to serve and obey the Emperor because the great tiger god Yun-Ki has chosen the House of Min as his sacred bloodline. It is believed that the Mins are descended from Yun-Ki himself...”

“How ironic,” the prisoner scoffed, “considering that the Mins despise hybrids. They claim we are the unnatural children of the spirit realm and the earth. Surely they would be ashamed to be the product of such… blasphemy.”

Feminine laughter filled the air.

It had been so long since the bound man had heard anything so beautiful. The ache it stirred in him was nearly as foreign as the sound itself.

“Yes it does seem rather hypocritical... especially in light of the events which bring me here.”

Your scent was stronger now. It tugged at the edges of his mind in broken pictures and flashes of sunshine. He knew it...

But he could not recognize it.

Nor could he explain the heat it began to stir in him.

“Yun-Ki’s chosen heir bears his sacred mark … Every child of the emperor’s seed is checked for it the moment they are born. And no concubine or wife of the emperor is ever so exalted as the one who produces a marked heir... except of course, the mother of our current emperor.”

The prisoner leaned forward, fascinated in spite of the strange circumstances.

“The dowager empress is widely revered. I may not know your fairytales, but a hybrid’s ears are better than most. My guards speak of her often.”

You nodded.

“The dowager is indeed very highly regarded… though she is not the emperor’s true mother.”

“Madam…” he shook his head. “What nonsense is this? And how could it possibly affect me?”

You chuckled softly and the small hairs on the back of his arms rose up in response.

“Patience, prisoner, the truth I offer you is worth more than both our lives.”

“The fine jewelry I hear clinking around your neck is worth more than my life, lady,” he hissed. “Speak your peace and spare me these cryptic declarations.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possessed not to flick him right in his arrogant nose.

“As you wish,” you replied tightly (and with heavily affected sweetness). “The story begins with our current emperor’s father. The old emperor was a man of warfare and when his spies discovered that the Prince of neighboring PyonKang planned to invade our territory, he marched his armies in and occupied the small kingdom without mercy…” You paused here significantly. “He even took the Prince’s sister as his war prize.��

The prisoner snorted.

“Did he know what she was?” He smiled coldly. “The royals of PyongKang do not share your nation’s distaste for hybrids or the pleasures of mating with one-”

There was a sharp spike in your scent when he spoke the words; a darker - richer essence than the one he detected earlier, but this time he had no trouble identifying it.

Arousal.

Blood churned chaotically beneath his skin, rushing to answer your body’s unspoken request. His mind clouded suddenly and for a moment…

He could almost taste you.

This is dangerous.

The fabric of your gown rustled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat - driven to relieve some of the unexpected pressure in your core.

“He did not know. The lady bore no hybrid indicators. So the emperor assumed - quite incorrectly - that she was not a hybrid.”

“I’ve heard of such things…” he sighed, sifting through his memory till he found what he was looking for. “A physician I met in Eastern Wei discovered that some hybrids manifest internally. They retain the outer shell of a human, but their inner parts reveal the truth.” His head tilted as he recalled the old doctor’s exact words. “The face of man could hide the heart of a snake.”

You drew your lip between your teeth and nibbled it nervously.

“You are correct. Except, in the case of the emperor’s war prize concubine, the face of a beautiful woman hid the heart of a tiger.”

The man before you scrambled to his feet in a move so sudden and unexpected, you nearly cried out.

“You mean to tell me that the current Min Emperor is a tiger hybrid? Surely I would have heard of it. The world would have heard of it.”

You drew a deep breath - almost as if to brace yourself for the words you planned to speak.

The prisoner’s eyes were covered, but he could still make out shapes and shadows through the rough cloth. Your shadow seemed unnaturally still. When you spoke again, your tone was softer and the sound of it resonated deep within him like the bells of the old temple near his childhood home.

“The princess of PyongKang became pregnant and gave birth to twin boys. The younger was strong and pale - gifted with the strange golden hair so many of the Min bloodline seem to possess. But his elder brother...”

Your hands opened and closed reflexively in your lap as you worked to calm your pounding pulse.

“... The elder brother’s hybrid heritage was quite evident.”

You moved then, advancing slowly and carefully until you stood before the prisoner face to face. Your scent swelled erotically with every step until it wrapped around him like a velvet vice. The urge to lean into it - into you - was nearly unbearable.

“One of the twins bore the tiger god’s mark... but not the one who sits on the throne now.”

Your hand stretched slowly toward the edge of the prisoner’s blindfold.

“The old emperor executed his hybrid concubine immediately, yet even he was not bold enough to kill Yun-Ki’s chosen heir...”

Your fingers hovered a hairsbreadth from his skin. Once you touched him, everything would change. The truth you chased for eleven years would be within your grasp.

“He sent the child to a poor family of fox hybrids who worked and lived on the estate of his most loyal warlord. The boy was never to know what he was… who he was...”

You could almost feel the moment he grasped the implication of your words. The subtle bond that always hummed strangely between you remained strong despite the years of separation.

“The warlord had a daughter who loved to ride her horse near the lake.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly as you continued. “One day the horse was startled by a snake and it threw her into the water...”

A single tear wet his blindfold as the alluring tendrils of your scent merged chaotically with the treasured echoes in his mind.

“Tiger hybrids hate the water,” you whispered, gently drawing the cloth up over his head, “but you dove in to save me anyways.”

Your lungs and throat burned from coughing out the water you swallowed, yet the pain was far preferable to the finality of drowning. The heavy fabric of your gown weighed you down as soon as your body crashed into the lake.

Death reached for you, but the strange boy cradling you tightly to his chest had pulled you back before you were lost to its embrace.

“Little one, can you hear me?”

His eyes scanned frantically over your small drenched form for signs of serious injury, but you were completely distracted from your almost untimely end by the two feline ears twitching conspicuously amid the boy’s sodden curls.

“You’re… You’re a cat!”

The boy’s jaw dropped open indignantly.

“I’m a tiger hybrid! Not a cat.” He shook his head irritably. “Have you never seen a hybrid before?”

“I’ve only heard of hybrids. I’ve never really seen one-”

Your fingers itched to touch the soft fur of his ears and you stretched forward almost absently to do so till he lashed out and snatched your wandering hand.

“What are you doing?!”

“Oh… I was going to...pet you?” you murmured sheepishly, prompting an irritable growl from the boy.

“Little One, you do not pet tigers.”

He stood to his feet abruptly, dumping you into a soggy heap in the process. It took considerable effort for you to pull yourself upright while wearing four layers of thoroughly soaked cloth, but you eventually managed to regain your bearings and scramble after him.

“Wait! Come back please I EEP-”

The water dripping off your dress made the grass rather slippery… Both legs flew out from under you and, for the second time in less than a minute, you found yourself flat on your back.

After a few moments of gazing miserably into the sky, a familiar face hovered over yours.

“What a strange girl you are, Little One.”

You grinned.

“What is your name, tiger?”

He sighed deeply and held his hand out to pull you up.

“I’m Yoongi.”

“Hello, Yoongi.” You tried to manage a proper bow, but only ended up losing your balance again. Yoongi grabbed your sleeve just in time to prevent you from crashing face first at his feet.

“You’re completely hopeless,” he chuckled, endeared in spite of himself.

Then you smiled.

It was a fierce, blinding thing and Yoongi became aware of a subtle yet profound shift deep within the recess of his soul; something his primal half recognized immediately, but his human mind could not begin to comprehend.

“No one’s ever said that to me before, even though I know they all think it.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged.

“They are probably afraid of my father.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in alarm.

“You’re the warlord’s daughter?!”

“Yes,” you replied with all the haughtiness a ten-year old could muster, “and I’m quite used to getting what I want.”

Yoongi felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. You were such an adorable little brat.

“And what is it you’re wanting now, Little One?”

You nibbled your lip for a moment, suddenly shy before the handsome hybrid boy whose beautiful feline eyes danced with unconcealed mirth.

“I want you to be my friend.”

Thirteen years later, those same golden eyes locked with yours as a strangled sob bubbled up from the back of his throat.

“Little One?” his face lit suddenly with pure joy “...is it you?”

You surged toward him then, unable to hold back another moment. The impact sent you both crashing against the wall and down to the floor in a sobbing heap.

Tears poured over the front of your dress from where his head was buried into your shoulder.

“How did you find me?”

“I told you I would,” you laughed as you fumbled with the ropes around his hands.

“You were a twelve-year old girl. Forgive me if I wasn’t overflowing with confidence.”

“Your mistake.”

Yoongi grinned.

“Still a brat I see.”

“Always,” you grunted, finally tugging his hands free.

He wasted no time gathering you in his arms and you melted happily into him, letting his deep purr rumble up against your cheek as it had when he held you all those years ago.

Suddenly he drew back, wrapping his hands around your shoulders to steady you in the wake of his withdrawal.

“Why would you tell me such a preposterous lie before revealing yourself? You shouldn't even speak such things aloud. I have no idea why I’m here - let alone how you got to me but-”

Your finger pressed against his lips to silence him.

“It may be preposterous, but the story I’ve told you is no lie,” you whispered, “and there is more - though it will not be easy to hear.”

Yoongi’s gaze wandered over your face again, drinking in every feature. You were such an awkward child, yet your fierce spirit made you beautiful to him even then.

You were his best friend.

The woman in his arms, however, was a far cry from his childhood playmate. Your lush curves pressed against him in ways that were distinctly un-friendly.

He cleared his throat, dragging his thoughts away from the temptation you presented.

“Tell me... please.”

“Yoongi...The mark of the tiger god is a slash from his claw - directly over the eye. It is a symbol of his influence on the vision and perspective of the emperor.”

Yoongi’s fingers lifted to trace the long scar over his right eye almost absently.

A scar he never remembered earning.

“You cannot mean...”

He searched your features frantically for any hint of deception. But there was none.

“When your father lay on his deathbed, he called your brother to him and revealed the truth... Though I think the prince already suspected that his mark was not genuine. It was burned onto him as an infant. He uses make-up to make it appear smooth and dark like his father’s... like yours.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched in fury as he gestured to the scar, “So this is why they came for me?! Why they dragged me away that day?!”

Your fingers tightened their hold on him as the terrible memory resurfaced.

Two years after he fished you from the lake, Yoongi remained your constant companion. He was much taller than you now and, at fifteen, his form and face began to show hints of the man he would become.

You however, had barely grown an inch and were still a harrowing challenge to your small army of exasperated caretakers, many of whom were profoundly relieved when you slipped away to cause mischief with your best friend.

Yoongi was teaching you how to build a rabbit trap near the old temple ruins when a sound like thunder shook the ground beneath your feet.

“That’s strange…” he muttered, scanning the clear skies overhead, “it does not look like a storm-”

Your startled gasp cut him off abruptly and Yoongi turned to discover that the roar he had mistaken for thunder was actually the pounding of horse hooves galloping toward you both.

“Get behind me!” he shouted, baring his teeth in a menacing snarl.

But there were far too many of them.

You had fought back - desperately holding on to his hand until one of soldiers struck you... and even then you chased the horses for near a mile screaming the same words over and over.

“I’ll find you, Yoongi! I’m coming! I promise I’ll find you! Yoongi!... Yoongi!”

“They were your brother’s soldiers. He ordered them to kill you... but they were also reluctant to harm the marked heir. So they sold you to a merchant guild in Eastern Wei and told your brother you were dead.”

Yoongi was silent for a long time, letting the truth of his birth settle within him. The pain in his chest grew till it was nearly palpable; so heavy and bitter he could almost touch it in the air around him.

“All this because I am a hybrid? My own family would murder me to keep my tainted blood a secret?”

“Technically, your brother is a hybrid as well. He has been careful thus far not to leave any concubine with child, lest the truth be revealed.”

Yoongi snorted.

“How will he sire an heir?”

“I believe he was working on a solution to that particular problem when he discovered that you were…less dead than he originally thought.”

“But… how? The merchants trained me as a warrior to protect their investments. I travelled and fought through most of Wei and Song… I did not return to Min territory till the day his men ambushed our shipment…” He shook his head incredulously. “At the time it seemed so strange; they left a hundred pounds of silver, and took only me.”

You sighed.

“One of the soldiers who kidnapped you from my father’s lands foolishly attempted to blackmail the Emperor with the revelation of your continued existence.”

“That is… shockingly stupid.”

“Indeed. Your brother stabbed him through the heart and tortured the others till they revealed your fate. After that... it was only a matter of time.”

You reached forward to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. Warm fingers suddenly closed over your hand, keeping it in place as Yoongi pressed his forehead to your palm.

“...And how did you find me?” he asked softly, letting his lips graze the sensitive skin of your wrist. Your pulse scattered against his mouth, stirring a primal satisfaction deep within him.

“I-... I searched for years, bribing and bullying my way to the truth of your identity. When I received word that the Emperor discovered your whereabouts and intended to kill you himself, I knew he would bring you here…” you grinned, “so I paid off half the prison for the privilege of your company.”

Strange heat spiraled out from every place his skin met yours. You were starting to forget some very important information.

“We must leave soon. Money can only buy so much indulgence.”

Yoongi nodded and pulled you to your feet, brushing dust and hay from your skirt as you steadied yourself.

“I have two horses waiting for us at the south entrance of the fortress. I’ve mapped out the best path- oh-”

You were almost to the door when his hand wrapped around your waist, drawing you to him till every inch of your back pressed against his chest.

“Someone is coming,” he hissed.

You barely found the presence of mind to nod. Your body was on fire. Yoongi’s grip tightened as the footsteps in the hall grew louder.

You knew he would be handsome, (he and his brother looked so alike) but you were unprepared for the sheer magnetism a fully grown Yoongi possessed. He was mesmerizing even with his eyes covered and his hands bound.

With his body flush against your own, he was devastating.

The door handle shook.

“Get behind me,” Yoongi growled.

And then something happened.

Something you were not expecting at all.

Claws sprang out from each of his fingertips. The sharp points of his fangs doubled in length.

His shoulders and jaw elongated and a chilling snarl split the air around you..

And for the briefest instant - it was as if the earth ceased to turn on its axis.

A spirit shifter.

They were rare - beyond rare - not one in a hundred thousand hybrids had the gift. Legends and stories claimed that a chosen few possessed the ability to channel their qi directly into their animal spirit and embody it physically.

To witness a spirit shift was incredible in and of itself.

But when he shifted-

The door opened and the same guard you sent away earlier walked back through...

And promptly fell to his knees.

“Please Great Father, I have served you well all my days. Have mercy!”

Yoongi drew back in confusion and turned to you, but you were still in complete shock and in no position to explain - so he was forced to improvise.

“I- I... shall of course be merciful.”

It took a moment to regain your senses, but it was immediately apparent that the poor guard had the same realization you did in light of Yoongi’s transformation.

Excellent.

“Sir,” your voice only shook a little when you found it again, “you will clear the passage to the South Gate immediately, and then you will go home, take your daughter and any coin you have and disappear.... Am I understood?”

“Yes,” the guard sobbed as he stumbled back blindly.

Yoongi’s claws and fangs began to retract. There was the faintest sound of bone and sinew shifting as the rest of his body returned to normal.

“....Great Father?” he whispered.

It was a strange, softly spoken question - one you yourself could not quite comprehend the answer to.

“Our people have countless… images...idols - paintings of tiger god Yun-Ki, the Great Father of our nation. They are in every house, every street… His face and form are everywhere. And you...- when you channeled your tiger spirit and shifted-”

The words caught in your throat, you were almost afraid to speak them.

“Yoongi...You are his exact likeness.

It was raining the day you and Yoongi discovered the old smuggler caves near the coastal border of your father’s estate.

A weak spot in the cavern roof had washed away and he’d fallen through…

“Yoongi! Merciful gods! Can you hear me!”

Yoongi groaned and shook himself to clear the shock of his sudden descent.

“I’m alright, Little One! Just-” he hissed as another dull wave of pain twisted though his leg “- just a little sore.”

“What can you see!”

Yoongi smirked. Always the curious little tigress.

His nose twitched as he inhaled stale air

“I think it’s a...tunnel of some sort… but - there’s an old torch here.” His cat eyes shone eerily from the depths of the cave when he turned up to look at you. “Toss me your flint.”

Yoongi’s sight worked well in the dark, but yours was still hopelessly human. A few strikes of flint later, however, and the torch blazed to life, revealing long passages in either direction.

“These are not natural formations,” he observed, running his hand along the obvious tool marks in the wall.

“You mean someone dug them - like pirates?!”

It was impossible to hide the thrill in your voice. Yoongi snorted.

A right proper little lady, you were.

“How will you find a husband if you only get excited about pirates and smuggler caves?”

“Why would I want a husband who didn’t get excited about pirates and smuggler caves? He’d be a wicked bore.”

“Listen I hate to shatter all your romantic daydreams, Little One, but most men are wicked bores, women too if I’m being honest,” his mind suddenly flashed back to the pretty young maid who let him kiss her behind the stables last week “-though they certainly have their moments.”

He sighed and made his way back to the sink hole where you were poking your head down expectantly.

“I suppose you mean to jump down here then.”

You grinned.

“What a clever kitty.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed in disgust.

“Call me a ‘clever kitty’ again and I’ll let the ground kiss your bratty arse.”

“Nonsense,” you laughed - jumping without hesitation into his waiting arms. “You’ll always catch me.”

He pulled you close when the weight of your body fell against his - just as he had a hundred times before - yet this time something felt… strangely different. The laughter and unshakeable trust in your gaze was suddenly enough to leave him breathless, and - for a moment... it was as if nothing existed beyond the feel of your warmth on his skin.

“Yes,’ he whispered, letting his hold on you tighten ever so slightly, “...always.”

The network of tunnels and rooms hewn into the rock stretched for miles beneath the surface and it took months of mapping and marking for you to navigate them with ease.

Yoongi was not surprised that you brought him here…

It was your secret place; a haven where you played as children.

His gaze lingered briefly on the feminine swells of your breast.

You were not children anymore.

He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from your exquisite body to take in the space around him.

The old caves were a bit... cozier than he remembered.

There were food stores, a weapons cache of fine blades, two bedrooms, and even a library.

“You’ve been … busy,” he observed.

“I knew I’d find you eventually...” You began to light the other oil lamps around the room, filling the previously dark cavern with a warm glow. “So I took the liberty of transforming it into a proper hideout.”

“It’s strange…” he murmured, meeting your gaze at last, “I spent so many nights wishing I was here - wishing I could see you just one more time… and now I am here - and you’re here,” his gaze drifted absently over your form once again, “yet I am at a loss for words.”

But it was more than that...

Something had begun to stir in him, something dark and primal and he knew in his bones it was all to do with you. The longer he was in your presence - the longer he inhaled your scent - the more persistent it became.

“How long have you been able to channel into a spirit shift?”

Yoongi chuckled.

“And there it is.”

“I think I’ve shown admirable restraint.”

“Far more than I would have guessed.”

Your mouth dropped open in mock indignation.

“Is this how you treat your beloved childhood friend and dashing rescuer?”

He grinned.

“Gods I missed you, Little One.”

“Good,” you said. Then you raised your eyebrows expectantly and Yoongi smothered another laugh.”

It was comforting to know that some things would never change.

“I was ten the first time it happened. I didn’t know what it was. I was... frightened by it - so I didn’t tell anyone.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I thought they’d say a demon had possessed me or some other nonsense. But - a few years after I was sold - I heard a storyteller speak of spirit shifting so I started to collect old scrolls about it and…”

He shrugged nonchalantly and your jaw dropped.

“You taught yourself how to spirit shift?!”

“Are you impressed?”

You bit your lip, letting your eyes wander over the sharp planes of his jaw and the strong lines of corded muscle flexing beneath his thin cotton tunic. He was a wiry youth when the soldiers tore him from your arms, but he had returned as a man whose mere presence was enough to unravel you.

“Very.”

Lazy heat slowly uncurled deep in your belly. You blushed and looked away, wondering at the bold turn of your thoughts. Yoongi continued to quietly take in his new accommodations until your voice broke the silence.

“I’m sure you have many questions.”

“I do - though… I am not sure I want the answers.”

Your lips tilted in a playful smile. It was infinitely more lethal than one you frequently unleashed as a child, yet the warmth blooming in his chest was the same.

“What happens now?” he whispered, drawing strength from the silent encouragement you offered.

“That all depends on what you choose to do with your newfound freedom.”

Your fingers came up to unlace the ties of your cloak, sending a fresh wave of your fragrance in his direction. Every time he breathed it in, the high became stronger, more potent. His hands dug ruthlessly into the chair beneath him as you continued, oblivious to the havoc you were creating.

“My father has quietly begun gathering supporters in your name. Years ago he was ordered to hide you, but he was never told why…”

This is madness.

His body was beginning to ache. He struggled to make sense of your words through the thickening haze of tormented desire. It felt like the cruelest twist of fate. For years he longed to be close to you, but now he was - for the sake of his sanity - desperate to get as far away as possible.

“... He began to suspect the truth the day we snuck into the wine cellar and I dared you to jump into his meditation pond.”

Yoongi winced, momentarily distracted by the memory.

“You promised he was still on campaign! Imagine my surprise when the General Jung dragged me out of that wretched water by my neck scruff.”

The indignant look on his face was so endearing - so utterly Yoongi -

“I was clearly mistaken,” you managed to snort before laughter overwhelmed you both.

The moment provided some much needed clarity.

Get a hold of yourself. Remember who she is - what she means to you...

What she has always meant to you.

“No matter the circumstances of your first meeting, Father is devout in his allegiance to Yun-Ki. He credits his success in battle to his divine favor. He would never betray the true heir.”

Emotions too numerous and unpleasant to name swirled uneasily in Yoongi’s chest at your words. He felt each syllable burn heavily within him like molten lead.

“But why risk this? A revolution means bloodshed - chaos. I have no desire to bring suffering to our people.”

Your gaze locked with his as he spoke - triggering a spike of awareness so sharp that he was forced to turn away… Whether to hide his own uncertainty or to escape your effect on him, he did not know.

“Your brother is running the country into the ground,” you whispered finally. “Our people are already suffering. He is not fit to be emperor. My father and many others believe you are the answer to our prayers.”

Yoongi was silent for a long time.

“What if they’re wrong? What could I possibly know about ruling a nation? I was a shameful secret for my first fifteen years and a merchant slave for the last eleven - and now-” he faced you again with a bitter scoff, “ I am nothing…”

“No.”

Fury propelled you up out of the chair and across the room to him in seconds.

“Those were circumstances thrust upon you through no fault of your own. They are not what you are.”

Your hand reached forward tentatively to trace his scar and he froze- letting the strange magic of your touch wash over him.

“You have been tested by these challenges again and again and you have prevailed… You wore the mark before your soul and body were one. The trials may have given you the strength to claim your throne, but you were born worthy of it.”

Strong fingers wrapped around your wrist before you could pull away. Golden eyes locked with yours and your heart stuttered painfully in your chest as he pressed into your palm.

Yoongi tried to ignore the fire kindling beneath his skin, even as his instincts raged to debauch you, he had pushed back.

Until now.

You were too close - the pull was too strong… and he was helpless as one thought - one word overpowered his senses, burning the wavering threads of resistance in a blistering wave of desire.

Mate.

“Do you know why I did not recognize you at first - in the prison?”

Your breath trembled as his mouth brushed across your pulse.

“Th-the blindfold?”

He shook his head.

“I would not need my eyes to see you. I knew the pattern of your scent better than I knew my own.”

“Oh?”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and Yoongi growled, twisting your body till your back slammed against his chest.

“Did you never wonder why you always lost at hide and seek?”

The heat of his breath danced over the delicate shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I always assumed you were cheating.”

Yoongi grinned wickedly.

“The scent of a woman is deeper - richer - than the scent of a girl. It shifts and twists into something irresistible - something that lures her mate like a fly to a spider’s web.” His lips ran idly down the side of your neck. “If he breathes it in, he’ll never escape it.”

Every word he spoke curled through your senses like sips of the sweetest wine. Your eyes fluttered shut as an unfamiliar emptiness began to throb in your core.

“Yoongi?” you whimpered.

“The woman who walked into that cell did not smell like the impish hellion from my childhood.” He nuzzled gently into your nape and inhaled with a decadent shudder. “She smelled like a temptress from my darkest fantasies.”

Then he nipped harshly at the base of your neck and you cried out - only to moan in artless pleasure when he soothed the hurt with his tongue.

Many of the pinch-faced matrons your father forced to “mentor” you in lady-like behavior over the years had offered dire warnings regarding the dangers of allowing any man close enough to touch - but they never mentioned the hunger; the aching need that shot through you at the slightest contact-

Perhaps the matrons were right all along…

Desire drenched the soft folds of your womanhood in a slippery heat. Yoongi’s arms wrapped around your body; the warmth of his chest spread across your shoulders - and it all felt perfectly - deliciously - dangerous.

To resist was pointless.

You had always belonged to him.

A hand came up to grip your jaw, titling it so your lips were almost against his. For a moment his gaze simply traced over the contours of your face while his breath mingled intimately with yours.

“You’re so beautiful, Little One.”

He spoke it softly and with such conviction, almost like a prayer.

Merciful gods.

You would give this man anything he asked for.

Yoongi lowered his forehead gently against yours in another attempt to calm the frenzied need pumping through his system.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he groaned, “what you’re still doing to me.”

“What have I done?”

Your voice was so innocent, so adorably confused, yet the sound of it only drove him closer to oblivion.

“You’ve triggered my rut, you terrible brat,” he snarled.

“I - I don’t understand-,” you stuttered.

“It means that all I want - all I can think about - is parting your sweet thighs and burying myself here-” his hand snapped forward to cup you directly through your dress and you gasped as a sharp bolt of pleasure tore through you, “in this rebellious little cunt.”

The sensation was merciless - almost brutal - in its intensity; a heavenly sort of hell that found you grasping his wrist and grinding into his palm for relief.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered, melting against him helplessly. For one glorious instant you felt his fingers move in tandem with you body-

Then he wrenched himself away with a furious growl and you nearly wept in frustration.

“Run,” he hissed.

He was on the other side of the room now, hands gripping into the small writing table with such force that you could hear the wood begin to splinter.

“I have a minute of clarity left - maybe less. You have to go - take the horses-”

“But-” you started forward and he snarled, baring his teeth in a manner that would have terrified anyone else.

“Now, woman!”

Your jaw clenched and Yoongi almost laughed.

Ever the stubborn little tigress.

“Please,” he whispered desperately.

A flash of hurt shone in your eyes for a split second before you closed them, dropping your head in defeat.

“...Will you let him have me as well as your throne then?”

Yoongi froze.

“What... did you just say?”

Each word was spoken carefully in a tone you had never heard from him before. Golden fire flashed dangerously in his gaze.

“Your brother has sent me an official proposal of marriage, offering to make me the empress in exchange for my father's loyalty.” You drew a deep breath and met his gaze again with quiet determination. “He suspects that our family is aware of his secret… I believe he intends to present the first non-hybrid child I bear him as the true heir.”

The words hung suspended in the air between you for the space of a single moment and then-

You were hoisted up against a wall with Yoongi’s mouth crushed ruthlessly into your own.

“Never,” he growled, dragging his teeth down over your jaw. “You will never belong to him.”

His claws sliced into the fabric of your gown - tearing it from your body like damp paper till you were clad in nothing but a thin linen underslip. The heavy scent of your arousal flooded his senses, further inflaming his need.

“You are mine.”

“Yes - gods yes,” you breathed, latching onto his shoulders as he ravished your neck. Your body burned with want and his touch was the only balm.

Yoongi’s hands gripped into the soft flesh of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he hauled you over to a small cot in the corner of the room. His mouth latched on to your nipple and he sucked it noisily right through the cloth till it clung wet and transparent against your breast.

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging and coaxing him in mindless delight. You wanted him everywhere, needed to feel his skin against yours. Eleven years of desperate longing poured out of your body in broken moans as his hands explored you with bold intent.

“Please,” you begged, clawing at the ties of his tunic till it fell away from him entirely.

His was magnificent, all sleek lines and defined muscle, reminiscent of his feline nature. A collection of wicked looking scars marked his light golden skin and your heart broke anew for the boy who endured such savagery.

“Don’t look so sad, Little One,” he purred, licking into your mouth, “they are my trophies.”

“And am I your prize?” you whispered, untying his pants while he palmed your breasts greedily.

“Nothing so trivial.” He drew the shell of your ear in between his teeth. “You are the sword in my hand,” his fingers fisted into the last scrap of fabric separating your body from his and rent it in half, “the arrow in my bow...”

You gasped when he gripped the curve of your backside and ground your aching core against his thigh.

“The only goddess I ever prayed to.”

The delicious friction arched your body into his like a marionette. His chest rumbled in satisfaction as he pressed you back into the blankets to mouth a line of red marks down over your chest and torso till he reached your sopping center.

“What a pretty little hole,” he murmured, inhaling deeply. His finger brushed over your swollen flesh and you whimpered, clenching desperately around nothing.

“Yoongi-”

You were near delirious with a want you didn’t fully comprehend, craving a fulfillment you had never experienced and could not find the words to ask for.

But Yoongi understood the fire clawing through your body, even if you did not.

“Does it ache, Little One?” he crooned, letting his lips skim your entrance with each word. “So wet and empty…”

Then he pressed a lewd open-mouthed kiss over your trembling mound and you nearly fell apart right there.

“Such a needy pussy,” he sighed, plunging his tongue deeper into the recess of your body till you were writhing uncontrollably.

You were wholly unfamiliar (and frankly surprised) by this wickedly intimate act, but the bold heat of his gaze latching on to yours as he feasted on the sweetness between your legs was instantly addictive. Your head fell back in mindless pleasure as you rode his mouth with wanton desperation.

It was filthy - scandalous -

Gods, you never wanted it to end.

Another messy wave of arousal bloomed from your core and Yoongi felt himself grow painfully harder in response.

The beast in him raged to simply claim you - to ram your virgin pussy down over his cock till your belly was swollen with his seed, yet even as the demands of his rut became nearly unbearable, he fought to hold back.

You had waited eleven years for him to be your first - your only. Unless he took care to stretch you beforehand, it would hurt.

But heavens help him you smelled so good and you tasted even better.

He would not last much longer.

Your eyes flew open as Yoongi slid two fingers into your wet channel. It burned a little at first, but when they curved into a spot you didn’t even know existed, you threw your head back and screamed.

Yoongi bore down on your thighs to keep them in place as he suckled your clit and worked his fingers in your soaked cunt. A foreign tightness pooled deliciously in your belly until he abruptly withdrew and you whined pitifully at the loss.

“No- no please - I need-”

But you were cut off when Yoongi flipped you on your stomach and yanked your hips up - propping you on your knees with your face pressed into the mattress.

“I know what you need, Little One,” he panted, driving his fingers back into your heat from a new angle that felt even deeper.

“Yoongi,” his name poured out of you repeatedly as you gripped into the sheets and sobbed in delight.

“This pretty little cunt is mine,” he hissed, smacking his hand down on your ass to drive home his point.

“Your pleasure is mine.” His thumb rubbed over your sensitive nub with renewed intent as the wet sounds of your desire echoed through the chamber. Then his fingers pulled back again - only to be replaced by the hard length of his cock sliding through your folds to coat itself in slick.

“Your child will be the true heir,” Yoongi pressed the thick tip of his shaft to your entrance, “because it will be mine.”

Then he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one exquisite thrust.

Pain and euphoria shot through your system in equal parts as Yoongi pulled out and slammed in again, setting a punishing pace right from the start.

“Oh my gods,” he gasped, throwing his head back in primal abandon as your walls clamped around him, “-so tight.”

Your body submitted wantonly to his onslaught. Yes, there was pain, but there was also so much pleasure - you could no longer separate one from the other.

You wanted all of it; everything he could give you.

His hands gripped your hips as he pounded into you. The sounds your mouth and pussy made were gloriously obscene; a raunchy chorus of wet smacks and lewd wails that he would close his eyes and savor if he wasn’t utterly mesmerized by the sight of his hardness ramming into your greedy hole again and again.

“That’s it, Little One, you take me so well.”

Yoongi pulled you back against his chest with your body still fully impaled on his cock. You barely had time to process the change before he began thrusting into you from a new angle, leaning forward to taste your mouth once more. His hand lightly gripped your neck while he kissed you - savoring each soft whimper against his lips.

The warmth of him behind you - around you - was intoxicating. He was unnaturally strong and he ravished your willing body like an animal, yet you had never felt more safe - more cared for…

More complete.

His free hand came up to squeeze and smack your breasts while he whispered pretty, dirty praises against your skin.

“Look at you, Little One,” he panted, “falling apart like this on my cock.”

Teeth began to scrape significantly at the apex of your neck and shoulder and something hot and wonderful bloomed in your chest. That area was sacred to hybrids and he kept coming back to it.

You unconsciously clenched tighter around him and he hissed in pleasure.

“What would your father say if he knew, huh?”

His hand shot down to smack your clit and you gasped.

“If he knew you let a beast like me have you - that you opened your legs and let me fill this fertile pussy?”

The pace of his thrusts increased and you found yourself hurtling closer toward that elusive razor sharp edge. You were going to break apart and there would be no putting you back together.

“Will Daddy still support me when he finds out what I’ve done to his precious little girl?” Yoongi growled in your ear.

“Yoongi please I’m - ahhh AH - please-”

Gods you were so close.

“They’ll all know,” he vowed. “When you’re swollen and heavy with my cubs - then your father, my brother - any man or woman who looks on you will know that you’re mine.”

“Yes! Yoongi-”

“You want that, Little One? You want me to breed you?”

You nodded furiously and Yoongi slapped your tits sharply.

“Then say it,” he snarled.

“Breed me, Min Yoongi!” you begged, using his true name for the first time in his life. “Show them all who I belong to.”

A gutteral roar filled the cavern as Yoongi tangled his fingers in your hair and yanked your neck back, exposing the glistening column of your throat and shoulder to his fiery golden gaze.

“So be it,” he swore, licking a long stripe over your neck as you shivered in anticipation.”

You knew the ritual; the final step in a claiming, when you would bind together, heart, body and soul.

“I will be your mate,” his lips dragged over your skin one final time, “ and you will be my empress.”

The moment his fangs pierced your skin you shattered, clamping down on him like a vice. Yoongi followed soon after, flooding your womb with his seed as he called your name into the night.

The next few hours were the most intimate of your life...

Yoongi whispered soft words of adoration across your skin as he gently cleaned you with his mouth and the rags you stored in the cave.

You had never felt so utterly wonderful.

Or so completely spent.

Exhaustion pulled you into a heavy slumber and you awoke sometime later to Yoongi licking tenderly at the claiming mark on your neck.

“Does it hurt?” he asked after you hummed and burrowed deeper into his arms.

“No… it’s just sensitive…”

Comfortable silence stretched between you for several minutes before Yoongi spoke.

“You know,” he coughed sheepishly, “when I imagined meeting you again, I can’t say this is how I saw it playing out.”

“Oh? You didn’t predict that I would be irresistible? That you would have no choice but to succumb to my charms?” You grinned. “How incredibly short-sighted of you.”

Yoongi laughed and reached down to playfully swat your backside.

“Heavens no, you unspeakable little brat. You were still a child when we separated...” He sighed, letting his hand curl idly into your hair while he sifted through the memories. “As I grew older... I would often think of you - perhaps try to picture what you might look like - what you might be doing...”

The answer left your lips before you could stop it.

“I was looking for you. I was always looking for you.”

A familiar purr rumbled up from his chest and you pressed eagerly into the sound.

“I did not foresee this either…” you whispered, “and yet… I am not surprised by it.” Your fingers wandered to trace mindless patterns accross his skin. “Is that strange?”

He shook his head.

“Our bond was always there. The mark is simply a seal - a completion.”

“Did you know all along, then?”

Yoongi was silent for several moments as he searched within himself for the answer.

“I think… on some level I did. We were just so very young… But I was always drawn to you.”

His hands drifted up to cup the sides of your face, letting his forehead rest against your own as he spoke.

“When they ripped you from my arms, I felt as if they had ripped away a piece of my soul.” He drew in a deep unsteady breath. “And now - for the first time in eleven years… I feel truly whole.”

You kissed him then.

It was not a fierce kiss of passion like the many you shared in the heat of your tempestuous lovemaking...

It was a soft brush of lips that offered sweetness and devotion in exchange for the bitterness of the past. Tears and quiet laughter echoed intimately between you as the years of separation and pain faded away...

Until only one question remained.

“...So what will you do now?”

The stories spread from village to village like flood waters in a rising tide.

Yun-Ki himself had come down from the heavens to reclaim his throne.

He rode at the head of a massive force with his heavily pregnant mate and the great warlord, General Jung, at his side.

His numbers grew daily with no bloodshed as town upon town surrendered and welcomed him.

After all…

Who would raise their hand against Yun-Ki?

The cheers of the people swelled to a deafening roar as he climbed the palace stairs, walking boldly past the imperial guards who fell to their knees in his wake.

The man upon the throne rose with fear and fury in his eyes as the truth he fought so long to destroy finally stood before him...

“Hello, Brother.”

Endnote: Thank you so much for reading my story. If you enjoyed it even just a little bit, please tell me! I promise I treasure each word of feedback like gold. I worked so hard on it, but beautiful feedback is a priceless reward.

Ask My Muse: Feel free to ask any of my characters from this work any questions you might have. Send in an ask to hear their side of the story!

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bangtansmauyeondan · 2 years

Text

Moonstruck | Part 23 - Status Update (Text between images)

Pairing: Seokjin x Fem Reader | Namjoon x Fem Reader

Genre: F2L, social media au, soulmates au, office au, slow burn, fluff, implied smut, angst, slight crack, and drama. (Inspired by BTS - Moon)

Summary: You don’t know what the world looks like without Seokjin. Growing up in the same neighborhood, a low iron fence separating your family home and his, your lives have always been tangled up with each other. So much so, that after graduating college and securing your respective jobs, you decided to pack everything up and move to the same apartment building in the city— him, sharing a unit with his younger brother and his college bestfriend; you, sharing a unit with your younger brother and his equally chaotic bestfriend. Eternal neighbors thing, right? Or is that all there is to it?

TAGLIST: @bts-reveries @tan-dulset @persphonesorchid @joonjoonsmiles @jayhope88 @thatbangtanjagiya @anaceciliaxr @justinetingball @halesandy @yoongleskitten @onemanbandarmi @juju-227592 @ephyra1230 @somelazysundays @ygbubs @timelessruins @taestefully-in-luv @teamtardis-notdead @sugakookies0613

A /N : When will they make it official???

As always, if you want to be added on the taglist, just send me an Ask!🌙

Also, a Character Q&A is on going for this series! I encourage you to ask them anything!!! 🙏🏻

••••••••••••

“So…” Yejin, sat across from you, placing her laptop and coffee on your desk as well. “How was the spontaneous camping trip-slash-first date?” she giddily asked.

“It was… different,” you answered timidly, biting your lower lip to try to hide your smile.

“OH MY GOD! You are blushing!!!” Yejin looked at you with eyes twinkling. “Yn, this is so great… I mean, finally, right!?”

“I guess, I mean… we’re not official yet,” you sighed dreamily while resting your chin on your hand. “It’s just… it feels good to finally talk about it openly, you know? Acknowledge that there’s something there.”

“Did you tell him about your forever-long crush on him?”

“He knew about it. Remember when I told you that I confessed to him back in high school?” Yejin nodded. “It turns out, he felt exactly the same, and he was planning on asking me to prom. But you know, Miyoung happened.”

“Yeah about that… how did he end up asking her to prom when he was planning on asking YOU in the first place?”

Yejin gasped, ooh’ed and ahh’ed through your tirade about Miyoung and how she had been manipulating and driving you and Jin away from each other ever since. You’re not one to tattle on other people, but this is about you, and you trust Yejin with your whole heart. You ended up sharing with her Jin’s side of the story as well— how Miyoung confessed to him the night before you moved to Seoul, how Miyoung invited both of you for lunch to see if nothing has changed between you, and how Miyoung seems to think that there’s something special brewing between her and Jin.

“That… that sly little bitch!” She exclaimed, causing a few heads to turn to your direction. “Sorry, sorry!” she nodded and threw an awkward peace sign to your co-workers quickly before turning to you, “I can’t believe she did that… I mean, you were all, I don’t know, 16 back then? You were basically babies.”

“Beats me,” you shrugged.

Just then, Hoseok strolled through the office, rolled up his sleeves and leaned onto your desk, “I’m exhausted!”

“Did you run a marathon?” Yejin teased.

“No, I ran some numbers actually. So math has completely drained me,” he whined. “Hey Yn, Jin’s picking you up right?”

“Yup! Need a ride?”

Hoseok hesitated for a bit. “Can I? Do you have plans?”

“None that I know of…” You motioned to Hoseok’s phone in his hand, “Call him. He’s at the gym right now.”

#jin moonstruck #moonstruck au #bts imagines #bts smau #bangtansmauyeondan #bts ff #kim seokjin #bts fics #bts smaus #bangtan ffs #jin smut #jin x reader

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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gotcha, m | jjk

alternative title: The Teasing Master alternative, alternative title: How to Catch the Virgin Killer alternative, alternative, alternative title: Jeon Jungkook Can Never Catch a Fucking Break and it’s Probably His Own Fucking Fault

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: The color blue. Two white hairpins. "Hey, Jungkook." A laugh with shaking shoulders that Jeon Jungkook thought he would hear and see forever. Hey, Jungkook. But then those words became a memory, until she was standing in front of him again, sporting the title of "Virgin Killer" and Min Yoongi by her side. Was this his second chance or just another memory?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; childhood friends - moments from grade 1-12; fluff / feels / angst; smut (fem reader, car sex, hair pulling, nipple play, marking / scratching, cowgirl); non-idol!BTS - flustered, nearly a virgin!Jungkook x teasing, Virgin Killer!reader ft friend!Taehyung and unintentional rival!Yoongi; Jungkook’s POV, based on this

“It’s you? You’re the Virgin Killer?”

Jeon Jungkook sputtered, incredulous, staring at her smirking, amused face with her hands in the pockets of her black bomber jacket, one shoulder hanging off, exposing her neck and the thin strap of her blood-red slip dress.

“Oh ho, haven’t seen you in a while. Miss me?”

grade 1, elementary school

“What are you drawing?”

“Ah!”

He threw himself over his piece of white paper, clutching the bright blue marker tightly in his fist. Instantly, from head to toe, heat and embarrassment, barely able to lift his head to look past his curtain of dark hair, seeing a pair of inquisitive eyes framed with straight-cut bangs. Two white hair clips held back the shoulder length hair on the right side.

A girl!

“D-Don’t look!”

She tilted her head at him.

“Why?” she asked.

Why? He wasn’t ready! It wasn’t done! He looked down at his drawing, superhero half-colored in, and snapped his head back up to see her trying to crane her head this way and that to look past his arms.

“N-No!”

She stopped; lips parted in curiosity. “Oh?”

His heart thumped with nervousness, praying she would go away, but he hadn’t said anything, and she was just standing there, staring at him.

“I thought you were Jeon Jungkook?”

He froze at the mention of his name coming from her lips, formed without accent. He hadn’t expected that. He suddenly felt awkward. Was she a city girl? One of those uptown girls that looked down on people like him? But she didn’t look haughty or stuck-up. She was dressed neatly in her uniform like him and the only weird thing was how she kept looking at him interestedly. Wasn’t it obvious that he wanted to be left alone?

But young Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“The teacher said you were really good at drawing,” the girl said and this time there was the Busan satoori, confusing him more and more. “I was wondering if I could see, because I want to be a good artist too, someday.”

Jungkook raised himself off the desk, staring at this weird girl who had approached him. The teacher said that? Him? The moment he moved away from his drawing, she snapped her head over to see, peering at his paper. Jungkook yelped, throwing himself down on the drawing, blue marker clenched tightly in his fist.

“Ah!”

He jumped back, startled at her cry, eyes widening as he saw that there was now a blue slash going down the back of her left wrist, the marker ink bright and visible on her skin.

“O-oh!”

She raised her right hand, lower lip trembling, eyes glassing over with tears as she looked down at the blue line on the back of her left hand, shoulders shaking.

“No, n-no, I’m s-sorry!” Jungkook exclaimed, rushing around the desk, dropping the marker on the floor, now forgotten and rolling away, hands fidgeting, feeling too awkward to hug a girl, but not knowing what to do as she buried her face in her right arm, sniffing quietly, the blue mark on her left wrist glaring at him, accusing him, telling him he was the bad guy for doing such a thing to a girl he didn’t know.

He took a step closer, fingertips brushing against her forearm.

“I’m… sorry…”

Her shoulders shook.

Jungkook felt awful.

Her arm lowered and those eyes were sparkling with mirth, and then Jungkook realized she was laughing, pulling her arm away and giggling, shaking her head at him. He blinked, confused.

“Gotcha,” she sing-songed.

“W… what?”

She held up her left hand, smiling.

“Will you show me the picture after you’re finished? Because you marked me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip trembled, tears threatening his eyes. “Y… You tricked me!”

She placed her hands over her mouth and giggled, blue marker stain clearly on the back of her left wrist.

grade 3, elementary school

“Oh, an eighty percent. Not bad.”

“Gah!”

He dropped his math test but she caught it, turning it face down and holding it out to him. Jungkook frowned, snatching the paper back, glaring at the girl with straight-cut bangs and a pair of white hair clips on the right side of her head.

“You shouldn’t look at my test!”

She blinked at him. “I didn’t. the math teacher posted the ranking next to the door, like she always does. I just found your name on the list.”

Oh, right. Jungkook’s cheeks heated, clutching his paper to his chest. “W-Well, what did you get?”

She shrugged and held up the paper she was holding. Ninety-eight. His jaw dropped, crestfallen. She smiled, sitting down at the desk next to him.

“That means you owe me a drink from the vending machine,” she reminded him for the bet they had made earlier that week.

“I…” He was sure he could win. He had studied very hard for this test. “I spent my allowance already…”

She sat back in the chair, smile disappearing. “I guess that means you’ve lost all your honor then.”

“W-What?!” he exclaimed, slamming down his paper on his desk.

She shrugged. “You made a bet and don’t want to hold up your side when you lose. That means you’re dishonorable.”

“That’s… that’s not how you use that word!”

Her head turned to face him, inquisitive eyes looking right at him. He felt his ears heat from the direct eye contact, his hands curling into fists in nervousness.

“How do you use it then?”

Jungkook froze, not knowing himself. “Uh…”

She frowned, sighing. He noticed her eyes shimmering, blinking rapidly. A weird feeling came over him as he witnessed her rubbing her nose, struggling to put on a bright smile as she shakily took her paper from her desk.

“I… I’m sorry… I’ll borrow some money from my mom…” Jungkook mumbled, feeling very apologetic, reaching out, his fingertips brushing her uniform sleeve.

Then he noticed her shoulders shaking, and he snapped his head up to see her hiding her mouth behind her left hand, a blue beaded bracelet around her left wrist, stifling her giggles. He jerked his hand back, narrowing his eyes as she grinned.

“Gotcha.”

“Hey!”

She stood up, picking up her math test.

“Let’s bet two drinks from the vending machine then. Winner next time gets twice the prize,” she suggested, still laughing under her breath. “Do you think you can win, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Of course, I can!” he snapped defiantly, even though he was terrible at math, annoyed that he was tricked again.

grade 6, elementary school

“How many drinks from the vending machine do you think you owe me now, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Shut up.”

She grinned, swinging her school bag as she walked with him. He clutched his bag, not looking at the girl with straight-cut bangs and white hair clips holding back the right side of her hair.

“Jungkook?”

Her voice sounded surprised, shocked.

He wasn’t going to be tricked. “What?” he muttered, not looking at her.

Jungkook jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked his head toward it, freezing as he felt her index finger poke him in the cheek. It was her left hand, the one wearing the blue beaded bracelet. Her lips curved into a playful smile. He pulled away, ears heating rapidly, and it wasn’t because of the summer weather.

“Gotcha.”

He scowled, keeping distance between himself and her as he continued walking.

“Oh!”

Jungkook turned to see her tripping, edge of her shoe caught on the corner of the broken sidewalk and he raced forward, reaching for her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall.

She twisted and regained balance easily, her school skirt swishing in the movement, his hands falling and brushing the edge of her skirt. His eyes widened, his school bag falling and hitting her in the leg from his outstretched hands.

“Ow.”

He yanked his hands back, cheeks red. Her face suddenly appeared in his vision; head tilted.

“What were you doing? Trying to flip up my skirt?”

“No!” he blurted, snatching his bag and backing up several steps, heart racing.

“Hmm…” She narrowed her eyes, frowning at him.

“I wasn’t,” he insisted, clutching his school bag tightly.

She looked thoughtful. “Maybe I shouldn’t walk home with you anymore.”

Panic rushed through him. “W-What?!”

He stumbled forward, hand outstretched, fingertips grazing her upper arm.

She moved out of the way, stepping closer, right in front of him now. Jungkook froze, whole body burning hot, no, hotter. Hottest. Those inquisitive eyes were looking right at him, hints of amusement and mischievousness in them.

“Gotcha again.”

Jungkook’s ears heated, his mouth open, unable to retort.

She smiled ruefully. “I’m going to go ahead now. I have to help my dad with housework. I’ll see you later, Jungkook!”

And she ran off quickly, skirt flaring out behind her, flashes of thigh making his eyes widen. He jerked his head up, away from her legs, and saw her looking back with a smirk before turning back and rounding the corner, disappearing from view.

grade 8, middle school

“Is she from the city?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, ripping open the chip bag. “No, I told you, her mom is from and works in Seoul and her dad is from here. That’s why she goes to our school.”

“How do you know so much?” his friend asked, stealing a chip and making Jungkook glare at him. “Are you guys dating?”

Jungkook gagged. “Don’t be gross. She just follows me around.”

“Hey, Jungkook.”

He dropped his chip bag at the familiar voice and a familiar hand caught it, blue bracelet around the left wrist. That hand wasn’t like the hand back in elementary school. It was more elegant now. Jungkook looked up, seeing that her straight-cut bangs were no more, long hair now luscious and wavy and cascading over her left shoulder, two white hair clips pulling back the right side above her ear. When had she become so pretty? Was it over the summer? She seemed taller too, and was she wearing a little bit of makeup? Or were her lips always that pink?

She held out the open package to him, smile playing on her lips.

“Did you have a good summer?”

“I…”

He forgot how to function.

She leaned down and Jungkook jerked back quickly, startled at her close proximity, but she placed the chip bag down next to him and reached out, plucking something from his shirt.

A white flower.

“O… oh!”

He suddenly felt very awkward and embarrassed, staring at the flower, staring at her, staring at the flower again, not able to tell what was what, unable to say anything, until his friend beside him started laughing and Jungkook jerked his head towards him, startled.

“Dude… she put that on you. Literally just now.”

Jungkook blinked rapidly, turning back to her, and she grinned, placing the small white flower in his outstretched hand. She giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand, the blue beaded bracelet jingling heartily.

“Gotcha.”

Jungkook glared at her and she backed up, shouldering her bag.

He crushed the flower in his palm.

That smile stayed on her face but he didn’t catch her eye because she turned away too quickly.

“See you, Jungkook.”

And she hurried away, long hair flowing in the wind of her exit, skirt brushing against her thighs, not looking back.

grade 9, middle school

“Are you dating Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook froze, not rounding the corner. A male voice, accusatory.

“Mmm, maybe.”

A playful female voice, one that belonged to a girl who wore a blue beaded bracelet on her left wrist and white hair clips that held back the right side of her hair, a girl with a teasing smile and a bounce in her step.

“Why? He’s just a mousey pretty boy. He doesn’t even have good grades like you.”

Jungkook couldn’t walk around the corner. The male’s voice was deeper, meaner than his. He clutched his school bag closely, fear coursing through him.

“He has a nice smile.”

She… she thought his smile was nice?

“He’s diligent, always tries his best, and works hard when he’s interested in something.”

“I work hard when I’m interested in something,” the male voice growled dangerously. “Or someone.”

The hand holding his school bag tightened, knuckles white. But he still couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move? He should help her. The male was sounding more and more hostile. What if she got hurt? He had to do something. Anything. But he couldn’t move. What if he got beaten up? Then he would be no help at all. Should he go get help?

“Did you know you left your eraser in the science lab?”

A rustle of clothing and a panicked gasp.

“I think I saw it by the teacher’s desk. What if she finds it? Your name is written on the outside, but the paper wrapper might have fallen off… Those things can be slipped off easily, you know?” she said, surface worry laced in her voice.

There was a startled yelp and heavy blundering footsteps running in the opposite direction.

Jungkook peeked over the corner, seeing the rapidly retreating back of the star soccer player of the school, and her looking up at the sky, hair cascading on her shoulder, breathing in deeply. She leaned against the brick wall, hands behind her back, blue bracelet on her wrist clearly visible, bouncing on her heels.

She was alone.

Jungkook jerked his head back and breathed in deeply before rounding the corner, marching up to her.

“Sorry I’m late.”

She looked up. He frowned, looking away from her.

“Hey, Jungkook.” Her tone was kind. “That’s okay.”

“Anything happen?” he said absentmindedly.

She laughed, musical and pretty. “Nope. Just standing here.”

Why… why did she lie? Then… was that boy not the other one who approached her? How many others were there? How many during school, at times when he didn’t know or wasn’t looking? She started walking and he followed, clutching his bag, suddenly feeling stupid and empty. She was throwing something up and down in the air.

An eraser.

Jungkook spied the rectangular-shaped white eraser with markings on the sides, equations and formulas written in tiny crammed handwriting. Up. Down. Up. Down. One of the ends of very gray and dirty, clearly used. The white eraser flew up, the writing smearing from her repeatedly messing with it.

It fell in her palm.

Then she reached back as far as she could and threw it.

It soared through the air, up and over the wire fence, over the trees outside the school grounds, turning into a tiny black speck, going, going, gone.

“Ah…”

She sounded disappointed.

“My hand slipped.”

Jungkook stared after it, shocked.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, looking back, and freezing as he felt her index finger poke him in the cheek. She smiled, a knowing, pensive smile. He stared at her, lips parted, eye contact held, and suddenly it was too much, him pulling away quickly. Her hand fell, dropping by her side.

The smile stayed there for a second. Then she scrunched up her face, agitated.

“Shoot, I forgot, I have to help my dad with housework today. I’ll see you later, Jungkook!”

And she ran, hair flowing out behind her, skirt flaring around her thighs.

Not looking back.

grade 11, high school

“Isn’t she your friend?”

Jungkook looked up to see a familiar girl with a blue beaded bracelet on her left wrist and two white hair clips holding up the right side of her hair, holding her bag and talking to a teacher. She was nodding and smiling, taking the thick stack of papers from the teacher.

“I heard she’s going to a university in a different city to attend a couple classes once a week. The courses here aren’t hard enough for her.”

“She’s kind of pretty too. Maybe you could give us her number, Jungkook.”

“I don’t have her number,” he mumbled. “And she’s just someone who lives in my neighborhood. My mom asked me to walk her home because her dad gets off work late.” He shifted his eyes, shoving his sketchbook in his bag.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

He jumped, snapping his head up to see her inquisitive eyes and bright smile, one arm holding a thick stack of papers. He was taller now, having had a large growth spurt over the summer. She looked down and gasped, hand covering her mouth. Jungkook started, jerking his head down. A stain? A bug?

Or, heaven forbid, an inappropriate hard-on?

He felt a finger flick his nose, and he yelped, throwing himself backward, spilling the contents of his backpack.

“Gotcha.”

He heard familiar pretty laughter, her shoulders shaking as she bent down, collecting his things with one hand.

“I didn’t think you would be so surprised,” she giggled, looking up at him, smiling.

He felt his ears heat and he snatched his sketchbook from her hand, glaring angrily. She just continued to smile, standing as he crammed his things into his bag.

“I wasn’t,” he snapped.

“That’s good.”

Jungkook scowled, but she simply tilted her head, bright eyes and pleasant expression on her face.

“What do you want?” he asked, sounding harsher than he intended.

Her expression didn’t change, but she lowered her head, adjusting her backpack.

“I won’t be at this school on Wednesdays, so you can go on home without me.”

“Well, good. Then I don’t have to wait for you.”

She paused. Then she quickly raised her head, smiling wide, eyes nearly closed.

“That’s right.”

And she turned away, hurrying into and disappearing into the crowd of busy students, not looking back.

grade 11, high school

It was Wednesday.

Jungkook went home alone.

He stopped by the vending machine on his way home, putting coins in, watching the banana milk tumble from its place. He watched it fall with a loud clang and he reached down, backpack slipping off his shoulder. With a start, he realized it was open and his sketchbook fell out, falling into the dirt.

It opened, pages flapping in the wind.

No one was there to laugh at him, shoulders shaking.

Jungkook reached over, seeing the sketch of the body line, someone looking up at the sky, someone with long hair and two hair clips on the right side of her head.

Unfinished.

He closed the sketchbook and brushed off the dust, putting it back in his bag and zipping it closed, opening his banana milk. There wasn’t anyone to tease him today and say he owned them many drinks from the vending machine since elementary school.

There was only silence.

He drank alone.

grade 12, high school

“You’re going to the university twice a week?”

She smiled, brushing her hair back, blue beaded bracelet jingling. Her two white hairpins gleamed, catching the last rays of sun. “Mmm, so it seems. I’ll be staying late on the regular school days so my dad will come pick me up at night. I have to do my regular schoolwork too.”

Jungkook kicked the dirt, walking past the vending machine.

“You won’t have to walk me home anymore and you can do what you want,” she said cheerfully, swinging her bag.

He didn’t say anything.

She stopped walking and he walked past her.

“I don’t have to go, you know,” she said. “I can tell them it’s too hard and I can’t do it anymore.”

“Just do it,” he snapped. “Then I might actually have free time for once.”

He kept walking.

Then Jungkook heard bouncing footsteps beside him, and she was there, swinging her bag and humming merrily. The sun was setting and the streetlights turned on one by one, lighting their path home.

“I heard you joined the taekwondo team last year,” she commented.

“Yeah.”

“You’ll do well,” she quipped. “You’re great at physical activities.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

grade 12, high school

“Jeon Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!”

He visibly cringed, jerking his head up to the stands, seeing a giant white poster of his name in blue paint, a waving hand with a blue beaded bracelet on her left wrist and two white hair clips holding up the right side of her hair. He looked away quickly, a teammate nudging his arm.

“Your girlfriend?” his friend teased.

“No,” he gritted out. “Just someone who wants to embarrass the shit out of me.”

“Heh, it’s working then.”

Wasn’t today Thursday? Shouldn’t she be at that university in Daegu? He glared up at her and she grinned, flipping the poster on the other side, the word written on it meaning nothing to anyone else but him.

Gotcha.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes and looked away again, not raising his head anymore, only focusing on the match. He didn’t even look for her after they won, leaving with the team to eat barbeque and forgetting all about that stupid sign.

grade 12, high school

Jungkook stopped at the intersection.

From here, he could see the apartment building she lived in with her dad. It was already dark, but she was probably home or coming home. He clutched his backpack tightly.

Turns out, she was coming home.

He saw an unfamiliar black car drive up and park, lights turning off. The passenger door opened, and she stepped out, white hair clips on the right side of her head visible, the streetlights catching the blue color of the beads on her left wrist. Jungkook touched the crosswalk button, getting ready to cross the street.

A dark-haired guy stepped out of the driver’s seat.

The white light flashed, indicating he could cross.

Jungkook didn’t move.

She fixed her hair and walked around the other side of the car and the guy reached into the backseat and handed her school bag.

Jungkook couldn’t move.

The guy was paler than him, maybe a little shorter. He had sharp, cat-like eyes. He was smiling at her, and she was smiling back. He reached into his leather jacket and handed her something. She was nodding, and she reached into her bag, holding something out to him.

An envelope.

Jungkook couldn’t move.

The guy took it and turned to open it, but she leaped forward, placing her hand over his, shaking her head. The guy’s shoulders shook and he nodded, giving her an open-mouthed smirk. She breathed out, about to take a step back, but the guy in the leather jacket grabbed her hand, holding it tightly.

The light turned red, indicating that he could no longer cross.

Jungkook turned around and ran.

Ran all the way home.

at university, the city bar

“Have you heard of the Virgin Killer?”

“What the fuck,” Jeon Jungkook coughed. “Is a Virgin Killer?”

Kim Taehyung laughed, beating his back. Jungkook had met him at university and they had become fast friends, even though Taehyung was older than him. Taehyung had a boxy smile, dark curls, and moody brown eyes. At the moment, they were sparkling with mirth at Jungkook’s reaction.

“The Virgin Killer. There’s a girl who goes around and asks if you’re a virgin and, if you are, she has sex with you.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Jungkook muttered, taking another sip of his soju. “Why would anyone agree to that?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Because they’re tired of being a virgin? Maybe they don’t want their first time to have a lot of pressure, so they want to do it with someone experienced and who is cool with them not knowing what to do.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Just do it with someone you like.”

Taehyung tapped a finger to his chin. “Maybe the person they like doesn’t like them back.”

Jungkook stilled.

Taehyung rubbed the back of his head, looking casually sexy in his collarless white button-up shirt, black paperboy cap and black slacks. He twisted his lips, thinking before he spoke again. “Or maybe they want to know what to do before they ask out the person they like. It could be embarrassing for some people if they can’t perform for the first time,” he added in his deep baritone voice.

Jungkook tapped his finger on the table, his black leather jacket creaking as he sat back. “You’ve done it or something?”

Taehyung laughed. “Me? No. I lost my virginity ages ago.”

Jungkook blinked at him.

Taehyung coughed, realizing the sudden awkward air, shifting his eyes. “But I know people who have. She’s pretty nice in bed, or so I’ve heard.”

The younger man raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Taehyung winced. “Can’t say, they’ll kill me.”

“Who?”

Those brown orbs shifted under dark curls. “Why do you wanna know anyway?” Taehyung circumvented, posing a question back at him. “You interested?”

Jungkook snorted. “No, I lost my virginity in the summer before coming to university.”

“How was it?”

“Lame. Neither of us knew what we were doing.”

“Hmm. Sounds like you could use another experience.”

Jungkook frowned, smacking his empty cup on the table.

the summer before university

“Oh, that family? They’re moved, off to the big city. I heard the mother worked in Seoul and the father and daughter decided to move there too, since she had completed her public schooling.”

She hadn’t mentioned anything to him.

Their last conversation at school and she was teasing him at the vending machine about him still drinking banana milk and he told her to shut up about it. She had grinned and leaned against his shoulder. He had immediately flinched, backing away from that smile.

Jungkook went home and shoved his high school sketchbook in the back of his closet.

He didn’t want to see it again.

at university, the city nightclub

“It’s you? You’re the Virgin Killer?”

“Oh ho, haven’t seen you in a while. Miss me?”

Her hair was a little wilder, two white clips on the right side of her head, pinning her hair back. Her ears were pierced twice on each side, both small silver hoops. She grinned, shifting her weight on her patent black heeled boots.

She didn’t look like this before.

Kim Taehyung gave him a weird look. “You guys know each other?”

Jungkook couldn’t move.

She was standing next to a guy with dark hair, cat-like dark brown eyes and pale skin. The guy was wearing a black leather jacket and a white shirt, his slim legs in ripped black jeans. He wore silver bracelets and rings that gleamed as he sipped calmly from a glass, the sharp scent of whiskey recognizable even in this nightclub that stank of stale alcohol and too much body odor.

Jungkook opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.

“When we were younger, Jungkook helped out my dad by walking me home,” she explained to Taehyung with a smile. Her voice did that thing it always did, flitting in and out of Busan satoori, although now less noticeable than before. “But it was a lot of trouble for him, so I decided to invest more time into my studies and be less of a nuisance.”

She laughed, musical and pretty.

The guy next to her hummed, tapping his glass on the counter.

“You’re not a nuisance,” he chuckled, his voice deep and raspy, nudging her arm. She turned around to look at him, hands still in her jacket pockets. “You’ve worked really hard. You’re going to graduate soon. I didn’t graduate on time.”

Jungkook realized with a pang in his chest that she wasn’t wearing a blue beaded bracelet on her left wrist.

She lifted her right hand and smacked the guy playfully in the arm. “That’s because you’re lazy, Yoongi. You take the bare minimum of classes.”

The guy, Yoongi, narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I’ve got music to make. Who gives a fuck about math and chemistry?”

Taehyung laughed, sliding into the seat beside Yoongi at the bar. “Agreed. Why do universities have compulsory courses? So useless when your career path has nothing to do with those subjects. You waste brainpower on them.” Taehyung stuck out his hand. Yoongi looked at it like it was a foreign object, but the younger man remained undeterred. ��Kim Taehyung.”

The pale-skinned guy sighed and shook his hand. “Min Yoongi.”

“It’s nice to meet you, hyung. I didn’t know you were friends with the Virgin Killer.” Taehyung dragged out her unofficial title like she was the ghost of Christmas past and she laughed heartily.

Yoongi snorted, shaking his head. “I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t bite off more than she can chew. It’s nighttime and all that shit,” he sighed, small smile on his lips.

“Aw, thanks Yoongi,” she grinned, sliding into the other seat next to him and leaning against his shoulder.

Yoongi nudged her lightly, shaking his head. He didn’t move away though, accepting the display of skinship. “Who’s your friend? You haven’t introduced him.”

She removed her head, quirking it in his direction, left hand still in her pocket.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

She said his name with no accent. No inflection.

Just a fact.

Why did that hurt so, so much?

Yoongi nodded, ticked his glass to him. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m a virgin,” Jungkook blurted.

The three of them stared at him like he had three heads.

The bass hiked up around them and the crowd cheered, the dance floor thundering with music and reckless dancing.

Taehyung stuck his head out behind Yoongi’s head, giving him a quizzical look, mouthing, but you said–

Jungkook glared at him, wordlessly telling him to shut the fuck up.

Taehyung’s brown eyes went wide and he slunk back behind Yoongi.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Weird flex, but okay.”

She just smiled at him and turned back to talk to Taehyung. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a month, I think. That time at the coffee shop.”

“Yeah, since I introduced you to–”

Jungkook’s hand darted out and squeezed her bare shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?” he gritted out.

She turned her head to look at him, white hair clips gleaming in the club lights.

“Sure, Jungkook.”

She was about to stand, but Yoongi grabbed her arm, narrowing his eyes at her. She grinned, leaning over a little, playfully. Those cat-like eyes darted from Jungkook to her, communicating silently.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi. I’ve known Jungkook for a long time. It’ll be fine.”

Yoongi exhaled gruffly and let go of her arm, reaching into his pocket. He took her right hand and shoved a set of keys into it.

“You don’t come back in an hour and I’m going to off your friend here,” Yoongi snarled.

Taehyung bounced in his seat, only to start and point to himself. “Me? You mean me?”

Jungkook gripped her shoulder, but she slipped out of his hand, swinging the keys and catching them in her palm. She slipped off the stool, steps light and deft as she began to walk out of the nightclub. Jungkook frowned, following.

“What do you want to drink before you die, friend? I’m buying.”

“Uh…?”

“Irish bomb it is.”

“Huh?”

at university, outside the city nightclub, Yoongi’s car

“Do your thing.”

They were outside, streetlights all around them. She was still smiling. They were standing next to a familiar black car. Jungkook had only seen this car once before, but he knew it was the same one he had seen that fateful night. It was the same guy driving her, after all.

They were older now.

Wiser?

Doubtful.

“It’s not a magical spell, Jungkook,” she laughed, left hand still in her jacket pocket. “Besides, I thought you wanted to talk?”

His eyes flickered down to her. Even though she was wearing heels, he was still taller, bigger than she was. He had bulked out from participating in the taekwondo team and working out in general. She tilted her head, teasing smirk in her lips, and he was back in grade one, hiding his drawing from her, clutching the blue marker as her shoulders shook and her giggles filled his ears.

Jungkook was bad with words. Always straightforward, blunt. If he didn’t know what to say, he usually didn’t say anything at all. He wished he was better at it, to be honest. It usually left him silent and quiet, staying away from unfamiliar territory and people.

“Is that really why you started taking those university classes?” he asked abruptly.

She chuckled at his directness. He couldn’t read her expression very well, streetlights casting weird shadows over her face. “The school was trying out a new program and my dad said I should do it to get some experience. Said it would help me become more independent.”

She smiled and, for the first time, Jungkook felt like it wasn’t genuine.

“It must have been tiresome, huh? Always having me depend on you,” she laughed, and it sounded sorrowful even though it was supposed to be a jovial sound. “You gained a lot of free time once you no longer had to babysit me.”

All of a sudden, she bowed, lowering her head to him.

“I’m sorry, Jeon Jungkook.”

And for some reason this formality hurt the most, this formality made his heart sting and remember their last conversation and teasing him at the vending machine, made him remember her yelling his name and unashamedly waving the sign in the packed crowd, made him remember her patting his shoulder and poking his cheek with her index finger, made him remember all those drinks he owned her because he got lower math grades than her and bet his allowance but he always spent it before he could complete his bet.

She raised her head, the white clips in her hair holding the right side back and away from her face so he could look into her eyes, the inquisitive eyes of that girl in grade one, when she had straight-cut bangs and more chubbiness to her cheeks, telling him she wanted to see his drawing because she too wanted to be a good artist someday.

She smiled at him, and it wasn’t teasing.

It was gentle.

And sad.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s black leather jacket, black t-shirt, and jeans became unbearably hot.

“That’s what you wanted right?” Shadows casted over her face, hiding her light. “An apology for all those years.”

Jungkook was bad with words, too straightforward and blunt.

Except when he wasn’t straightforward and blunt.

Then he was just bad with words.

“No.”

She tiled her head, confusion sparking across her features.

“I want to lose my virginity and I heard you were the Virgin Killer. I thought you could help me.”

Her shoulders lowered. She didn’t reply at first.

“But maybe you can’t and it’s a waste of time.”

Something changed in her eyes. “That’s it?” Her tone was light and the moment was heavy.

“Yeah.”

She nodded. “Hm, okay. Your place or mine?”

“The car is fine.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You wanna fuck in Yoongi’s car?”

It bothered him that she didn’t use honorifics with the older man. “Yeah, is that a problem? He’s gonna get pissed at you or something?”

She shrugged. “No. Just thought you might want somewhere less cramped.”

He felt a muscle twitch in his eye. What guy was cool with a female friend using his car to fuck a stranger? She did this all the time or something? Well, she did. That’s why the rumor of the Virgin Killer was floating around. No, not a rumor.

She was the Virgin Killer.

“It doesn’t matter. I just want it over with.”

She didn’t say anything for a second. Then she finally spoke, nodding.

“Okay.”

She turned around and unlocked Yoongi’s car, opening the backseat door.

Jungkook got in.

She got in after him and closed the door, pocketing the keys. More darkness now. Closeness. She was wearing perfume. Some kind of fresh peach scent with a hint of citrus. It was different from him. He used a vanilla cotton scent.

“You clean?”

Taehyung had asked him to go to the clinic to get tested before meeting this Virgin Killer person. Just in case Jungkook actually wanted to bang her or whatever. Taehyung said she got tested herself, at least before she met the people that he introduced her to.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replied dryly. “You want the receipt?”

“Nah, I trust Taehyung.”

She trusted Kim Taehyung and some random guy named Min Yoongi.

But not him.

“How far do you want to go?” she asked pleasantly.

“I want to put my dick in a pussy.”

She laughed, full of mirth, shouldering off the bomber jacket and throwing it in the passenger’s seat at the front. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. I’m just asking if you want anything else. Foreplay, kissing, oral, or do you want me to just sit here, watch you jack off, and then you put it in me – bing bang boom, you’re a crowned nonvirgin.”

It finally hit Jungkook that this was not her first time doing these things, that her first intimate moments were with other people. Not him.

“This is kind of transactional,” he muttered, rubbing his fist on his thigh.

“You’re making it transactional,” was her calm reply.

He froze.

She didn’t say anything more. She was sitting on his left side, fingers of her left hand tangled in her hair and her right tapping her thigh. He remembered that flash of thigh as she ran off, school skirt fluttering in the breeze.

“Why do you do this?” he asked quietly. “For fun?”

She hummed softly. “Mmm, yes and no. It was unintentional at first, just a coincidence. I ended up being a few people’s first times and they said I was calm and made them feel comfortable. They said I made them feel better, more sexually confident.” She smiled, turning her head to look at him, eyes bright in the low light. “The things people hate about themselves really astound me. Completely normal things that don’t really make much sense to dislike if you think about it. Fat on your abdomen. Skinny arms. A mole on your dick. Stretch marks. A birthmark on your tits. Inverted nipples. Big thighs.”

She shrugged, looking down.

“People tell me stuff and I guess I’m the only one who listens so they feel okay around me.”

She giggled, shaking her head.

“Once the first time happens, it no longer feels impossible. You do something one time and it’s not scary anymore, perhaps? I don’t really know.”

“They don’t ask to date you?” Jungkook pressed.

“Nah, I tell everyone the same thing. I’m already in love with someone.”

There was an emptiness in his chest. “Oh. They’re okay with this?”

“Dunno. They don’t like me back though, so it doesn’t really matter,” she exhaled with a smile. “I don’t think they’ll ever like me back, so I’m cool with continuing this and helping other people with their problem.”

She adjusted so her body was facing him, leaning the back of her head and her left hand against the car window. Smile on her lips and Jungkook was transported to middle school, holding a small white flower in his hand.

Crushing it in his palm.

“What about you? Before you knew it was me, you thought I was a stranger. Why let a stranger take your virginity?”

He had let a stranger take his virginity, in that summer she moved away from his hometown, because Jungkook didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t going to fall in love. He didn’t want to fall in love. He wanted it over and done with. He didn’t want to think about women and that sketchbook shoved in the depths of his closet back at home.

“Similar reason,” Jungkook mumbled, looking away, back to the past, to that lonely summer. “I don’t want to fall in love, but I hadn’t had sex, so I figured I would try it at least once. Not many people out there who want no strings attached and a virgin.”

“Mmm.”

A short silence.

“The thing about falling in love though,” she said softly. “You don’t really get to choose. It kinda just happens.”

Jungkook snorted. “It’s not going to happen. I want to fuck and forget about it.”

Another short silence.

Then he heard movement and he turned back, seeing those inquisitive eyes getting closer and closer, closing the distance between them, her left hand coming up to cup his cheek, but he was too preoccupied with her closeness and the scent of peachy citrus nearing.

“First kiss?” she asked quietly.

“I…”

Guilt.

“It’s not my first kiss.”

She smiled at him.

“That’s okay, Jungkook.” Her palm fitted to his cheek, her thumb stroking his chin. “May I kiss you?”

“Y… Yeah…” He cleared his throat. “Please.”

Her lips pressed against his.

Instantly, he was back to that moment in grade eight, when she had placed that small white flower in his hand and Jungkook wanted to go back in time and punch his former self, wanted to snatch that white flower from his own outstretched hand and protect it.

Don’t be gross. She just follows me around.

Who followed who around, really?

Peach and citrus invaded his nose and Jungkook was suddenly yanked back in the present, his lips captured by soft ones that held him close, her eyes shut, kissing him deeply, inhaling him in deep breaths, scooting closer to him, her body against his, and he kissed her back, his hands finding her waist and pulling her into his lap, the silk of the slip dress smooth and slinky. She tilted her head and her tongue traced his lips, making him moan, his fingers sinking into her sides, pressing her to him, chest to chest, her name on his lips because all these years, all this time, Jungkook had never murmured her name to her like this, with softness, with need, with passion.

He only said her name in surprise, in anger, in disdain.

“Jungkook…”

Hey, Jungkook.

His brows furrowed, remembering all those moments, hey, Jungkook, and her hands slid around his neck, kissing him over and over, letting him have as long as he wanted, hey, Jungkook, and his hands slid down to her thighs, feeling the smooth skin and sinking his fingers into it, hey, Jungkook, her bright smile and her head leaning against his shoulder and him quickly moving away, frowning, but not now, because now he was pulling her closer, closer, pushing the hem of her dress up, shuddering as his fingers came into contact with her stomach, her bra, up and over her head, red silk tumbling to the car backseat floor and he pulled her face to his again, her name getting caught in his throat, hey, Jungkook…

Why had he never, never said her name the way that she said his?

Why?

He kissed down her neck, down to her collarbone, licking and lapping at her skin, not really knowing what he was doing, but it seemed right, peppering kisses all over the curve of her breasts and her gasps above him, her fingers in his black hair, tangled in the length, and he reached up and tugged on her hand lightly, indicating her to pull a little and she did, responding until he moaned, just that little bit of pain, and his fingers brushed against her bra clasp, hesitating.

“It’s okay,” she murmured kindly above his head. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much or something I don’t want to do. And you should tell me too.”

His fingers lingered on her back, tracing the line of her spine and making her shiver in his arms.

“I’ll always listen to you, Jungkook.”

Why didn’t I listen to you?

He pinched the sides of her bra together and pressed his face into her cleavage. She chuckled, pulling it down and his lips started travelling again, retreating his hands so he could get out of his jacket, yanking his arms out and tossing it aside, the leather jacket he had bought because of that night that was forever in his mind, that night he had seen her from far away, her hand touching someone else’s hand, someone who wore a leather jacket and white shirt and who owned this fucking car and Jungkook threw his own down on the backseat, grabbing her waist and pressing his lips to her nipple, taking it in his mouth sharply, sucking on it, and she moaned above him, her fingers tangled in his black hair, pulling at it, making him moan too, not realizing her head was bent awkwardly due to the car roof, too busy kissing and licking her nipples, a little messy, a little sloppy, but it tasted so good, for some reason her nipples just tasted so fucking good on his tongue and he just wanted to rub the wet muscle all over them and lick them off, gasping her name, gripping her waist a little too hard.

“Jungkook… Jungkook.”

He detached himself, panting, looking up and seeing her head tilted at an odd angle.

“I’m gonna need a neck brace if your keep shoving my head into the roof,” she snickered, hands still in his hair.

“S-Sorry…”

He lowered her back to his lap, looking into her eyes. She stretched her neck out a little, smiling.

“That’s better.”

Just someone who wants to embarrass the shit out of me.

Or maybe she was someone who wanted to cheer him on even though he was a complete jerk.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again, shifting his eyes away.

“Hey.”

He felt her hand on his chin, pulling his gaze back to her face, her smile and that brightness.

“Are you cool with taking off your shirt?” she asked.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I am.”

He reached down and pulled his shirt up and over his head, feeling like he could breathe a little, no longer as hot or uncomfortable as before, her hands encircling his head, pressing her naked chest to his naked chest, and he gasped, his own saliva chilling him a little, but it was somehow erotic, sexy, her hard nipples rubbing against his pecs, his hands sliding up her thighs, kneading her ass, moans cut off by her kissing him again, lustful kisses, nipping her his lower lip lightly and sucking on it, his moans lowering in pitch, his hips rising involuntarily, realizing that his first time with some stranger in some random bedroom that shitty summer was not like this.

“Do you like this?” she whispered against his lips, kissing down his chin, her soft lips on his neck.

“Y… Yes…”

She pecked his throat softly and he leaned his head back to give her more access.

“Can… Can you leave a hickey?”

“You sure?” There was a light teasing tone to her voice, giving him a familiar and aching feeling. “A hickey is a bruise. I can’t exactly take it back.”

“I know what a hickey is,” Jungkook muttered. “And I want a fucking hickey, so make one.”

She chuckled. “Okay.”

A sharp whimper left his throat as she bit into the side of his neck, sucking hard, pain but also pleasure, her tongue licking him all over and sucking again, making his eyes roll back and his hips buck into hers, his hands pressing her down on his crotch, feeling the heat even through his jeans, her mouth bruising his neck and then soothing it, his nerves shocked with satisfying stings before she slowly detached her lips from his skin, leaving behind a dull throb of pleasure.

He sank his fingers in her ass, rutting against her core.

“Make another one,” he whined. “Please.”

He felt her fingers trace his right shoulder.

“You have tattoos now.”

Breathless. “Yeah.”

“You did always think they were cool.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes, feeling her finger draw circles on his right shoulder. “But my mom wouldn’t let me get them until I was an adult.”

“She like them?”

“Not really.” He laughed a little. “But it’s too late now.”

She leaned down, kissing his shoulder and he shivered at the feeling of her lips.

“Everyone always thought you were mousey or shy,” she whispered to his inked skin. “But I know better. You always set your mind to something and saw it through. Always diligent, Jungkook.”

He felt that pang in his heart.

That’s not true.

Her teeth sank into his skin and his thoughts disappeared, moaning at the feeling of tongue, suction, her biting the tattoo on his shoulder, his hands coming up to encase her waist again, humping her crotch, hearing the faint wetness of her panties shifting with his movement as she clung on to him, one hand in his hair and the other on his back, nails digging in and Jungkook gasped out, scratch me, scratch me, please, lifting his back from the seat and her nails raked across his skin, lines of pain and lust, amplifying the pleasure, harder, and she did it harder, lower, and she did it lower, inflamed lines crisscrossing on his back, listening carefully to his words, kiss me, and her mouth left his shoulder, finding his hungry lips, fierce, intense kisses, her name on his lips and his on hers, her smile against his skin.

He has a nice smile.

Jungkook smiled against her lips.

Her nose nudged his, kissing him deeply, smile to smile.

“I can suck you off, if you want,” she breathed against his kiss.

“No,” he panted. “I want to make you feel good. Please.”

She backed up, grinning. “You want to put your dick in a pussy?” she teased, reaching back to the center cupholder and producing a condom. He narrowed his eyes at it, but she shook her head. “It’s new. I put it in here tonight. Gotta be protected.”

Jungkook frowned.

“I don’t want to put my dick in any pussy,” he muttered. “I want to put it in yours.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, pushing her panties down with her right hand. “Lucky you, my pussy would very much like your dick.”

“How many people have you said that to?” he scowled, reaching down himself, undoing his pants.

She laughed. “Just you.”

“Sure,” he sneered.

“It’s true. No one has been weird enough to say, ‘I want to put my dick in a pussy.’ That’s an odd thing to say, especially to someone you’re asking to take your virginity.”

Jungkook grumbled as he pushed his underwear down to his knees, only for it to turn into a yelp when her right hand closed around his semi-hard length, his cock immediately jerking and swelling at the touch, the touch he dreamed about sometimes when he was lonely and horny, wondering why this was the hand he wanted, wondering why his thoughts wandered to this hand, these fingers wrapping around him, pumping slowly, those nights alone of him doing it himself and imagining this hand, only now realizing the significance, and too soon he was rock-hard, his muscular thighs tense, feeling like he was going to explode but thankfully she removed her hand, ripping the condom open.

He pressed his head back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to look at her because that would be terrible to fucking explode without doing anything, so he just looked up and prayed.

That one time during that shitty summer was nothing like this.

He inhaled sharply as she rolled the condom down, barely hearing her speaking to him.

“I’m going to ride you. Mostly because space constraints, but also because you’ll last longer if I’m dictating the pace.”

“Ah… okay…”

Was it okay? Jungkook had no idea.

“You alright?” she asked, sounding somewhat concerned.

“Please,” he said to the ceiling. “Just fucking sit on my dick.”

“You look like you’re about to ascend to heaven,” she commented wryly.

He snapped his head down, growling. “Stop patronizing me and – f-fuck!”

She sank down with one swift stroke, making him throw his head back and slam his fist into the backseat, and perhaps for a split second, he saw white and pearly white gates, but the next second was consumed by the sudden hot tightness wrapped around his cock, soft but also punishingly surrounding him, and it felt too fast even though she probably wasn’t going that fast. He simply didn’t have enough experience to know, his length now choked and massaged by wet warmth.

“Gotcha.”

If Jungkook had any coherency left, he would have told her to shut up, but he did not, so he just shuddered and enjoyed the way his cock twitched inside her, burying deeper, all the way to his balls, impossible that it all fit, because his first time had been a strange experiment of half-entering a semi-wet pussy and wiggling around a bit before he had to stop because she said she was in pain and he backed off, but this was not that, this was her and this was heaven, slick velvet walls and a body wave that sent shocks of pleasure from base to tip, nice, slow, easy, his hands balled into fists, knuckles white, digging into the seats as she rode him, her juices slopping down to his nuts and coating them with slickness. Jungkook finally realized why he was sitting on a towel this whole time, not because Yoongi was some kind of neat freak, but because sex was messy, sex was loud squelches of his cock being thrusted into scorching tightness over and over again, sex was wonderful, what the fuck was he thinking, saying that he wanted this over with? He didn’t want it to end, not now, not ever, rush after rush of ecstasy soaring through him, floating up to his head and taking over his thoughts.

“Oh… Oh my fucking God…”

He couldn’t stop moaning and before he realized it, the tension was building inside him and he tried to push it down, tried to shove it back down, please, no, let this be more, and he unclasped his hands with maximum effort, placing them in her thighs and trying not to grip too hard. He pressed down, no intelligible words coming out of his throat, but she slowed, him only now registering that her hands were on his shoulders, thumbs stroking his collarbones soothingly.

“Trying to last?” she questioned gently.

“So… Something like that…”

To be honest, he had no idea if it would help because she was still so fucking tight, pulsing around him, squeezing all over and making him moan again, even without her moving.

“Jungkook?”

“What?”

His chest was heaving, his hands shaking.

“You really grew up to be a handsome man.”

It felt awkward staring at the ceiling now.

He lowered his chin, eyes trailing down, down, and they were face to face, strands of black hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. She was smiling at him, a little shyly.

“I thought I should tell you at least once.”

He swallowed hard. “While… While sitting on my dick?”

She shrugged. “Seemed like a good time.”

Was it?

Her smile changed, a little more mischievous now.

“Feels nice,” she purred and this time was different, this time she spoke he felt his heart race, her leaning closer, squeezing him all over, his breathless gasp drifting over her mouth. “Your cock, stuffed all the way inside me, filling me up.” Her hands playing with the bottom on his hair, whimpers dropping from his lips. “I really like it. You feel so good, twitching inside me.”

His hips began to move and her hips began to move, building an rhythm together, entranced, staring into those eyes clouded with lust, pupils blown wide, little gasps escaping her throat and then his name, her fingers in his hair, tugging a little and then he was moaning her name, their names mixing as his hips met her hips in a wet, sloppy smack, rocking the car a little, a hard, fast pace, so close, so close, bolts of pleasure tingling through him, up his spine and into his head, hazing everything, everything but her name and the feeling on her on him, riding him and him matching pace, a little deeper, even better, the swollen tip being throttled by tightness, so good, so right.

Jungkook threw himself forward, crashing his lips to hers, missing a little, but she met him halfway, capturing his lips and he moaned right into her mouth, tipping over the edge with the taste of her breath and the scent of citrus peach, thrusting up hard and shooting gushes of cum right into the condom, filling it up, his cock jerking in her shuddering walls, her shiver tense, her hips rutting on his still-stiff length, prolonging his orgasm, and he felt it, the way she tightened and pulsated hard, massaging him all over with brutal waves of pleasure, spilling down his length and leaking onto his crotch and balls, the sweet scent of sex stronger, soaking his thighs and the towel underneath.

“J… Jungkook…”

Her hands slid up his head and she kissed him, an extended, sensual kiss.

He was reminded of long walks home, her bouncing steps beside him, sunlight in her hair, looking up at the sky, the pair of white hair pins gleaming, that body line that he never finished sketching because he couldn’t believe what his mind was telling him.

at university, outside the city nightclub, Yoongi’s car an hour and a half later

Jungkook was pulling on his leather jacket and she was reaching over the passenger’s seat, plucking her bomber from it. The car very obviously smelled like sex, even with her folding the towel and tucking it in the corner of the backseat.

“Uh.”

“Hm?”

She looked at him, pulling the sleeves over her arms.

“That… that wasn’t my first time,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

She smiled.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Sorry… what?”

She laughed. “I know it wasn’t your first time. Taehyung told me already.”

He sputtered, confused. “T-Then, why…?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You seemed pretty adamant about it, so I played along. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Virginity is only a vague concept that doesn’t mean jack shit.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I didn’t come up with the Virgin Killer name. It just happened and I can’t really change it now.” She looked a bit rueful.

I’m already in love with someone. They don’t like me back though. I don’t think they’ll ever like me back.

Was it that Yoongi guy?

“They’re stupid,” Jungkook blurted.

She shot him a confused look. “Whoever came up with the Virgin Killer name? I guess. That’s kind of a harsh thing to say though.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head furiously, black hair flying everywhere. “The person you like who doesn’t like you back. They’re fucking stupid.”

She blinked rapidly. “Oh.”

“You’re smart, you listen to people, and someone should listen to you too.”

She nodded slowly.

“Tell them they’re a fucking dumbass,” he snapped, shaking out his jacket. “Or I will.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

She tapped her right index finger on her thigh.

Then she laughed heartily, raising her left hand, shoulders shaking, covering her mouth as she giggled and the sleeve of her bomber jacket fell down, revealing the back of her left wrist and, Jungkook was in idiot, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot.

Because on the back of her left wrist was a tattoo.

A tattoo of a bright blue marker line.

Clearly blue even in this low light, the tattooed ink accusing him, sending him back to grade one and her two hands covering her mouth and her fit of giggles, shaking her head at him.

“It’s pretty easy for you to tell him he’s a fucking dumbass,” she snickered. “Look in the mirror.”

His eyes were fixated on the bright blue marker line. “You… you got it tattooed?”

She smiled. “Mhm.”

“Why?”

Those eyes, bright and shining, telling him nothing but the truth.

“Because I love you.”

“B-But…” he stuttered. “Y-You moved away… and didn’t tell me… how could I know…?”

She smiled again, but it was sad this time.

“Because I’m gross and I just follow you around.”

Don’t be gross. She just follows me around.

“I’m just someone who used to live in your neighborhood.”

And she’s just someone who lives in my neighborhood.

Her eyes flickered down, and then back up. “Ah, but the unfortunate thing about love is that you don’t get to choose who you fall in love with.” She raised her hands and shrugged, her lips twisting to one side. “Why tell you when you clearly weren’t interested? It would be a nuisance for you to know.” She scratched her cheek, frowning. “I wasn’t going to say anything actually, but you went on your rant…”

“I’m fucking stupid then,” Jungkook blurted.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, looking a bit worried. “Dude… it’s fine. No need to put yourself down about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!”

Her hand retreated quickly at his outburst. “Uh…”

“It is because I’m sorry!”

She blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

“Because I…” Suddenly, he couldn’t see very well and he furiously wiped his eyes, but they were still blurry and his sleeve was leather, so he yanked up his shirt and blotted his face and she gawked at him as he rambled, not really thinking about what he was saying. “Because I wanted to draw you for a very long time, but I couldn’t, and it was because I was in love with you, but I didn’t want to admit it, and everyone kept saying you were pretty and smart and I’m just a mousey boy who doesn’t even get good grades–”

“Jungkook, that’s some fucking horseshit and you know that.”

He froze, a tear sliding down his cheek, staring at his own pants.

“I told you I could have convinced the high school that the university classes were too hard and I could stop taking them. I didn’t have to do them. But you told me to ‘just do it’ so you could have free time.”

He looked up, mouth slightly open, and she sighed.

“But you deserved to be in those classes,” he croaked. “You are smart.”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Who cares? I could have taken them later. Time with you is worth more than taking advanced Physics. I’m a fucking graphics design major! I don’t give a shit about integrals and imaginary magnetitic fields.”

A shuddering breath, her shoulders deflating.

“But you didn’t want that.”

Her lips curved into a smile and Jungkook realized, finally, that she didn’t smile all the time because she was happy, but sometimes she smiled because she was hurting and she was trying not to hurt as much, so she smiled instead.

“You didn’t want to spend time with me. If you were in love with me, then you would have at least wanted to walk home with me. You didn’t even want that.”

The smile dropped and she sighed, looking away.

“And you’re using past tense, so there’s that.”

Silence.

He said her name, very quietly.

Despite very much not having to listen, she patiently turned and faced him, listening.

“I’m bad with words,” Jungkook said softly, wiping his eyes clean with his shirt and straightening, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean in past tense. I don’t want to fall in love with anyone.”

She nodded, slowly.

“Because I am already in love with someone and that someone is you.”

Hey, Jungkook.

“It was always you, it is you, and it will always be you.”

The pat on his shoulder, the poke to his cheek.

“I want to be able to say your name every day, with kindness, with care, with love, the same way you have always said to me, but I couldn’t see because I was too busy being flustered and confused, so I… I would really like at least a chance. A chance to show my love because you showed me yours.”

Her lips parted, speechless.

Jungkook placed his hand on her shoulder and she turned her head to look at it, only for his index finger to poke her in the cheek. Her eyes widened and he smiled, pressing his fingertip into her softness.

“Gotcha.”

She tutted, moving her head out of the way of his finger, but not moving her shoulder from his hand.

“That’s my line.”

Jungkook grinned. “We can share it, right? What’s that saying when you’re in a relationship? What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is also mine?”

She rolled her eyes. “And what about the Virgin Killer thing? We’re going share that too?”

He faltered, his hand slipping from her shoulder. “You’re… You’re still going to do that?”

She shrugged. “All those sad people out there.” She shook her head gloomily.

“They can go have the same miserable, shitty experience I had,” Jungkook snapped.

But then he realized her shoulders were shaking, and she was grinning, laughing at him as he ground his teeth, glaring at her playful expression. She winked.

“Gotcha.”

“You tricked me!”

She raised her left wrist and pointed to the blue line. “You marked me. And owe me something like five hundred drinks from the vending machine.”

“You tattooed that yourself!”

“Actually, no, I paid a professional to do it–”

Jungkook growled her name and lunged at her, and she laughed, pushing him back.

“Yo, this isn’t my car, you can lose your shit some other time.”

There was a sharp buzz in Jungkook’s coat pocket and he fumbled with his phone, answering it by smashing the start call button rather vigorously. “What?”

Taehyung’s voice slurred over the speaker, bass booming in the background. It sounded like his lips were planted into the mic and he was still yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Eyyy, uh, I’m not dead, but hyung is asleep and I’m two seconds away from passing out myself, so can you come pick me up, Dad?”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“Yeah, you’re with Mom, right?”

“Yes, Taehyung,” she cut in. “You dad and mom will come pick up you and your hyung, so please try to stay awake for the two minutes it takes us to walk in there.”

“Sweet,” Taehyung chimed. “Can we get fried chicken on the way home?”

“No,” Jungkook hissed.

“Yeah, sure,” she cut in.

“Dad, you’re real grumpy today. Mom’s much nicer. Maybe you should listen to her more.”

Click.

“Maybe you should listen to me more.”

“Shut up.”

That’s what he said, but his hand was reaching forward now, cradling her face, kissing her again, his fingertips brushing against two white hairpins.

the time without jeon jungkook the days without you, m | myg

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook smut

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theharrowing · 3 months

Text

Showstopper 📸 2: The rumors really are true

Hoseok knows the rumors.

Everyone in the industry knows the rumors.

📸 Hoseok x Yoongi

📸 word count: 17.8k

📸 strangers to lovers, model & photographer au, angst, smut, fluff, slash, nsfw, 18+

📸 warnings: thick thick tension; a bit of jealousy; inappropriate boss to employee conduct; Hoseok in a merkin; explicit mentions of sex; mention of giving & receiving a handjob with a stranger in a bathroom stall; a kiss; angst!!!; bestie Jimin is chaos in human form; Namjoon is both a kind friend and a snitch and we love that for him; Yoongi is bi/pan.

📸 notes: HI WOW I DID NOT MEAN TO LET A FULL YEAR PASS BEFORE UPDATING THIS FIC!!! i actually really love this one and i am sad that it took me so long to return, but i am back here, with 2 more chapters in the works!!! also, i don't know anything about modeling contracts & everything is made up!!! please have fun!!!

📸 written for the BTS Found Fest!

📸 thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading.

📸 posted jan. 2024 | read on ao3

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For a week and a half, Hoseok's life is a whirlwind of photoshoots and wardrobe fittings. He rubs shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry and overhears talk of making him the face of a jewelry or perfume line. Seemingly everyone fawns over Hoseok, gathers around the monitor to look at proofs, and praises him for his work.

"You make it look effortless," he hears a lot, "like you were born to do this."

Show-stopping, Hoseok thinks, mind always returning to the booth at the pizzeria, to the soft but insistent look in Yoongi's eyes, over which a wild mess of dark brown waves hung. And to the car ride home after that shoot in his home studio, to the gentle way Yoongi squeezed his knee.

During the week and a half, Hoseok sees Yoongi daily, and he does his best to appear unaffected by Yoongi's sleepy appearance swaddled in layer upon layer of dark clothing. Despite looking soft, Yoongi is stern and cold at work, which Hoseok has to adjust to at first.

But there are glances and compliments thrown Hoseok's way that are warm and full of depth, and he clings to those like a lifeline. He finds he is always waiting for the day to come when they have a remote shoot that Yoongi drives him home from, or another meeting over dinner, or, if he is really lucky, another shoot in Yoongi's home studio.

After an intense week and a half that has Hoseok feeling as exhausted as he feels hopeful, on a sunny Saturday morning, Hoseok wakes to find a text message that fills him with as much excitement as it does worry.

Magic Min Are you free for lunch? There are some potential contractual items that I would like to discuss with you.

Hoseok scoffs at potential contractual items, rolling his eyes at how Yoongi always seems so stuffy over text. He wonders if Yoongi would ever be the type to send an emoji if they were to become that close, then feels his cheeks warm at the wayward thought, laughing it away almost as quickly as it arrived.

If they were to become close...Hoseok knows that one does not simply become close to a man like Yoongi. Even Namjoon, who seems to be Yoongi's closest confidant – daresay his friend – is responded to in simple grumbles and shrugs more often than not.

But still, Hoseok likes to imagine it. His soft, gummy smile; his deep, contemplative eyes; the way his hands leave behind a trail of warmth wherever they touch, lingering and making impressions for Hoseok to trace over and over again later. If only those impressions were more tangible, like a soft press of lips, a bruise sucked into skin, scratches of blunt fingernails leaving behind welts, and, god forbid, drawing tiny droplets of blood.

A shiver runs down Hoseok's back, and he shakes his head before slapping himself on the cheek twice, forcing his wandering mind back to earth. He lets out a deep huff of air that had sat trapped in his lungs.

He really needs to get laid if this is how he reacts to seeing a very cold business-only text message from a man he hardly knows. Even if that man happens to be soft and pretty as a petal and calls him show-stopping.

With another stern slap to his cheek, Hoseok clears his throat and types out a response—

Hoseok Sure. When and where, boss?

—and then throws his bright orange and yellow comforter to the side in a rush as he bolts into the bathroom to shower and begin his skincare routine, eager to put his best face forward.

Hoseok speeds through his routine but takes care not to skip any steps, then he rushes back to his abandoned phone, relieved to find Yoongi's response only came in seven minutes ago.

Magic Min Craving burgers. There's a spot not too far from you if that sounds good.

Attached is a link to a burger joint that Hoseok has been to several times over the years, and he smiles to himself as he realizes he will be meeting Yoongi again. Yoongi, who he has seen every day since Monday, and nearly every day the week prior, with the exception of last Saturday and Sunday.

Hoseok Ah, I know that spot! Sounds great.

Hoseok clicks off the screen of his phone and squeezes the device tight in his palm, considering what kind of outfit would be best for such an outing. He is surprised when it takes less than a minute for a response to come in and bites his lip as he reads it over.

Magic Min Great. Is noon good? Or do you need more time to fuss over what to wear?

Ah, there it is, the classic Min Asshole charm. Hoseok had nearly forgotten about just how obnoxious Yoongi can be, and he rolls his eyes at how he always knows just what to say to get under his skin. The man does have a point, though; does Hoseok have enough time to fuss over what to wear?

A glance at the clock shows it is just after 10 am, and Hoseok sighs with relief. Thanks to his early shoots, he has grown accustomed to waking up earlier than usual.

He even went so far as to ignore his friends last night when they insisted he join them at the club, feeling exhausted from a busy week. He likes to think of this as his glow-up era; a time for him to grow and mature, and not wake up all puffy and depressed from a hangover. Frankly, his friends could learn a thing or two from him.

Hoseok Noon works just fine, thank you very much. And no need to send your goon to pick me up. I'll walk.

This time, when Hoseok spins away from his bed, he brings his phone with him, eager for another response despite knowing that in under two hours, he will be seated across from the man at another wooden booth.

He gazes wistfully at his closet, trying to come up with the perfect game plan while being wholly distracted by the thought that, at any moment, his phone will buzz to life with a new notification. When it does, Hoseok gasps happily and wastes no time opening the message.

Magic Min Goon? I'm telling Seokjin-hyung you said that.

Hoseok Please, I'm not afraid of him.

Magic Min You should be.

With a coy bite of his lip that tugs into a smile, Hoseok watches Yoongi's response come quickly, and then he sets his phone down, deciding he has work to do and that he cannot allow a man to distract him.

Time flies when he is having fun, and after an exciting hour of pulling shirts and jeans from hangers to hold in front of himself in the mirror, he finally gets dressed in a white tee tucked into distressed blue jeans with a black bomber jacket on top that has a pretty watercolor flower pattern of deep pinks and bright greens.

He applies a little makeup to accentuate his eyes and lips, then uses a little product to style his hair in a way that suggests it is, in fact, unstyled. Simple. Tasteful. Perfect.

By 11:30, Hoseok is antsy and begins to circle around his place, unsure whether or not this outfit calls for a purse and slinging several over his shoulder before deciding the added weight just heightens his anxiety. His jacket pockets are accommodating enough for his phone, wallet, keys, and lip balm, so he shoves everything where it belongs and searches the restaurant to find out how long it will take him to walk, nearly shouting with excitement that it is twenty minutes away and that his misery will soon be over.

Hoseok slides his feet into and kicks his feet out of several pairs of white sneakers before deciding to wear the first pair he tried on, then checks his phone to see that it is 11:36. Close enough, he decides, as he shoots Yoongi a text and heads out the door.

Hoseok Be there in 20!

As Hoseok makes his way through the hallway of his building, down the short flight of steps, and out into the warm, late morning air, his heart begins to pick up to a more excited pace. Whereas before he was antsy about leaving, now he feels nervous about arriving.

He knows he has nothing to worry about, but there is such an aura to Yoongi that feels stifling at times, especially when Hoseok walks into a room unsure of which version of the man to expect. Will he be cold or warm?

When Hoseok's phone buzzes, he is a little surprised to receive a response. Yoongi is definitely better than average as far as communicators go, but Hoseok assumes he will be there early anyway, waiting in a booth that is tucked away in a corner.

Magic Min I should arrive first, but if not, save us a booth, please, and thank you.

With a soft smile, Hoseok takes pride in how well he was able to predict Yoongi's actions and sends a thumbs-up emoji in response before tucking his phone back into his pocket and fishing out his lip balm.

His lips are certainly not in need of being balmed, but there is a sharp chill to the breeze, making him feel self-conscious about them becoming dry. Or, perhaps, he just needs something to fidget with for a few moments.

The walk to the restaurant is quick, taking Hoseok past several bars and cafes he was a regular at while in college. He misses the cozy, grimy atmosphere of certain dives, but this area is usually so packed with students that it tends to result in long lines and unnecessary drama. In the middle of the day, this stretch of businesses tends to be less chaotic, and Hoseok is relieved to find the street in front of the burger spot is mostly empty, save for a familiar black sedan.

The pep in Hoseok's step trips him up once his right leg hesitates to move forward for a second just split enough to throw his rhythm off, and his palms tingle as the door to the sedan opens to the sidewalk and a familiar mess of dark hair appears from behind it. Yoongi stands with the door ajar and rests his arm on the top edge of it as Hoseok approaches, giving a smile warmer than anything Hoseok could expect, stirring butterflies to take flight in his stomach.

Then Hoseok's gaze drifts to the driver's side where, through the windshield, he sees Seokjin give a playful snarl before opening his door and standing tall in a clear attempt to be intimidating.

"Yah!" Seokjin yells, nodding his chin to Hoseok, who approaches and stops beside the front passenger tire, keeping his eyes on Seokjin despite feeling Yoongi's gaze burning into him. "Yoongichi says you called me a goon!"

At this, Hoseok raises his eyebrows and turns his attention to Yoongi, doing his best not to absolutely swoon at the sight of him as he shouts, "Did he?" in response.

Yoongi mirrors his eyebrow raise and shrugs, giving Hoseok a smile far too playful for his heart to handle, and drawls, "I told you I would."

Turning back to Seokjin, Hoseok responds, "Well, you do come to his beck and call. And you drove him here today! Very goon-like behavior if you ask me."

Seokjin gives an incredulous shake of his head and begins shouting in a rapid succession of syllables, "Yah, Hoseokah, just because you have neither the class nor income to require an assistant—"

But Yoongi clears his throat, cutting Seokjin off with a raspy, "That's enough," with a fond smile as he steps away from the vehicle to close the door.

"This isn't finished, Hoseokah!" Seokjin shouts before getting back into his vehicle, and Hoseok shoots him an okay hand sign while mouthing the word before swallowing thickly and turning his attention entirely to Yoongi.

"I told you to be afraid," Yoongi chides, and Hoseok feels his cheeks warm.

"What could he do?" he asks, fidgeting his hands in front of him while attempting to keep his voice level and cool. "I'm sure he's all talk."

Yoongi stands with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a navy blue knit sweater with a neckline and bottom hem that appear fashionably distressed. Hobo-chic, as Hoseok likes to call it.

Despite wearing loose-fit light denim jeans—cuffed at the ankle over a pair of navy and tan Nikes—Hoseok's eyes fall immediately to his ass the moment Yoongi turns to enter the restaurant, and he thanks his lucky stars that the sweater is loose enough cut to at least partially cover him.

Sadly, Hoseok thinks, a butt like that is never fully concealable, and he lets out a sad sigh, lamenting over the knowledge that under all that material, Yoongi's gluteus maximus truly is maximus to the highest degree.

It takes a moment for Hoseok to realize Yoongi is holding the door open for him, and when he lifts his gaze to find him with his arm outstretched, looking at Hoseok over his shoulder with a squint in his eyes, Hoseok clears his throat, blinks heavily and mutters, "S-sorry, your hem is weird...I was trying to figure it out."

Yoongi responds with a noncommittal hum at turns, entering the restaurant and releasing the door, which Hoseok quickly steps past as he rubs his clammy palms against his denim pants and attempts to get his head on right. He cannot be sexualizing his boss, especially when this same boss has a reputation for being a player. Getting wrapped up in a guy like Yoongi – more than he already is – is a bad idea. He knows it is a bad idea.

The restaurant is busier than Hoseok expected, and Yoongi leads him back to a booth in the far left corner. Although Hoseok appreciates his penchant for getting as far away from other humans as possible, it does cause his nerves to spike knowing that the two of them will be more or less secluded once again. While at work, there have been so many other people around that Hoseok has not had a moment alone with Yoongi since the time in his home studio almost two weeks ago.

"The reason I asked you to join me here," Yoongi begins before Hoseok has a chance to settle into the wooden seat, sliding to the center while watching Yoongi thumb through his phone, appearing bored, "is because I have already been getting campaign offers for you, but you do not have an agent on file."

"Ah," Hoseok responds, grabbing the menu despite already knowing what he plans to order so he can space out while looking down at it rather than up at Yoongi. When he affirms, "I do not have an agent," his voice betrays him, coming out a bit more meekly than he would like.

"Well, for the time being, I can act as one for you," Yoongi offers as if it is nothing, making Hoseok glance up with a start to find Yoongi's eyes on him with his phone cradled in both hands. "I'm familiar with campaign managers. They would be showing in my magazine anyway, so I would still be leading the shoots. It cuts out a middleman and makes everything far more efficient for both of us. And, you would make more money."

"More...mon—" Hoseok's lips feel stuck in place as Yoongi responds to his inquiry before he has a chance to completely voice it.

"Well, I certainly would not take a cut for acting as an agent. I already make enough from your pretty face as is."

The words pretty face ricochet around Hoseok's brain, and he nods shallowly while his vision goes foggy, turning Yoongi into a beige, black, and navy-colored blob while he attempts to wrap his head around the offer. Taking on high-end brands is the dream, and Yoongi presenting the prospect as if it is the easiest thing in the world has his mind racing.

"Which company?" Hoseok asks once he finally has his wits about him, and he blinks Yoongi back into view to watch his stern face become soft with a smile.

Yoongi opens his mouth to respond just as a server approaches, and Hoseok is so focused on the words he never says that the appearance of another person makes him startle and swear under his breath.

Through a chuckle, Yoongi orders the two of them beer, then asks Hoseok if he needs a moment to look at the menu, smiling when Hoseok shakes his head and mutters, "Nah, I know what I would like," and orders his usual double cheeseburger and fries.

As the server leaves, Hoseok takes a fortifying breath in the hope of returning to the conversation at hand, but he feels strangely out of it, spacing out at the wooden table between him and Yoongi.

"Dior," Yoongi says, and Hoseok gasps as he looks up, searching Yoongi's face for a hint that he might be joking. This would certainly be a horrible joke, but Hoseok is still not sure he has Yoongi's sense of humor figured out.

Instead, when Yoongi does nothing but watch him squirm, he responds, "Be serious," with a frown.

"I am serious," Yoongi responds. "Men's wear and cologne. They want you in the front, center, and back of my magazine modeling their products."

The highest paying positions in a magazine – the money shots, as he and the boys call them. Dior wants Hoseok to model the money shots for them.

"This feels fake," Hoseok mutters, finding it absolutely impossible to wrap his mind around. Sure, he is a stunning man who works hard for his craft, and yes, he did manage to get one of the most important fashion magazines in the country to want to work with him...but Dior?

"What did I tell you?" Yoongi asks with a slight frown, leaning forward with his elbows against the table.

Instinctively, Hoseok sits back, creating as much distance between the two of them as possible. Yoongi continues to watch him silently and patiently, and Hoseok begins feeling embarrassed to be under such a scrutinous gaze.

"With you, I can be great," Hoseok mutters, knowing he is selling himself short even now, unsure why he finds it so hard to be excited about his dream beginning to come true.

"Show-stopping," Yoongi corrects as he raises his brow. "You will be great. Better than great."

The server sets down two dark beers, and Yoongi presses one toward Hoseok before taking his own and having a drink. It tastes similar to the beer they had at the pizzeria – malty and just a bit hoppy – and Hoseok finally finds a small smile gracing his lips as Yoongi's words begin to fully sink in.

"Dior," He says with his lips pressed against the chilled rim of his pint glass.

"Dior," Yoongi confirms, and this time, when Hoseok meets his eye, he cannot help but feel a burst of affection behind his ribs.

As he takes another drink from his glass, Yoongi's eyes stay on him as if he is eager for a confirmation of some kind, with his expression hard to read, save for a glimmer in his eyes.

"How does a company like Dior know I exist?" Hoseok blurts.

"I submitted some samples to them," Yoongi responds with a shrug, making Hoseok's eyes widen; he cannot believe Yoongi would do something like that for him.

"But…why?" he asks over the rim of his beer glass.

Yoongi tilts his head slightly, eyes drifting from left to right over Hoseok's face. "Are you so shocked that I would see something in you that Dior might want?"

Truthfully, no. Hoseok knows he has talent and can look the part for Dior. Perhaps he is just surprised that Yoongi would extend this type of kindness to one of his models.

"No," he admits, watching as the edges of Yoongi's mouth rise. "Not shocked about that, just surprised that you went out of your way to submit samples. My cover hasn't even gone to print."

"And yet they chomped at the bit," Yoongi mutters with a smirk.

If Dior sees something in Hoseok, he knows he would be a fool not to accept. Especially if Yoongi seems to have an in with them.

"Alright," Hoseok says, setting his glass on the table and nodding his head. He holds out a hand, which Yoongi glances down at before slowly raising his own, only grabbing onto it when he says, "We have a deal, boss."

"Well," Yoongi adds with a chuckle while allowing Hoseok to emphatically shake his large, warm hand, "we don't have a deal yet; we need to discuss the actual contract. But I am glad that you are so excited."

Hoseok releases the handshake with a nervous chuckle and returns to gripping onto his chilled beer glass with both hands. Meanwhile, Yoongi lifts his phone and begins going over a contract, explaining the terms to Hoseok. The food is dropped off mid-conversation, and Yoongi mutters,

"I'll send a copy to you, and tomorrow you can come by and sign it if you have time?"

Tomorrow. Dior wants to sign him, Yoongi wants to see him again tomorrow, and Hoseok stares at his food while his heart thumps happily in his chest.

* * *

The night is a blur of alcohol and grinding against the hot, sweaty bodies of his friends. Hoseok does not tell the others why he is celebrating, not wanting to jinx things.

But he does whisper to Jimin while on the dance floor that there is talk of a pretty big offer and that tomorrow, he and Yoongi will be going over the contract to finalize details. And then, from there, everything fades to black.

Hoseok wakes up feeling exhausted and stretches his limbs with a deep groan. Try as he might to remember what else happened the night before, he falls short. He was talking to Jimin about Yoongi, and then...?

A jolt of anxiety works its way through Hoseok as he worries he may have said too much about Yoongi. He rubs his palms over his eyes in embarrassment as he reaches for his phone to check his notifications. Thankfully, there is nothing but a message from Jimin that does not seem to suggest Hoseok said too much, although it does suggest that he did say something.

Jimin Don't forget, we agreed that you would wear something slutty to his studio today!!!

A pact between Hoseok and Jimin to wear something slutty could mean that Hoseok has confessed his feelings for Yoongi – especially for Yoongi's ass. But it could also be a completely innocuous, everyday occurrence. And there really is no way to know without finding out.

With a deep, fortifying sigh, Hoseok gets to work.

Hoseok And was this slutty pact apropos of anything, or just something we decided on for shits and giggs?

It takes approximately ten seconds for Hoseok's phone to begin ringing with a video call, and he rolls his eyes, runs a hand through his hair, and sits back against the wall, holding the device at a flattering, high angle. He does not have a chance to say one word before Jimin's voice is booming through the speaker, matching the wide expression on his face.

"You silly whore!"

Hoseok clears his throat as he responds, "Good day to you too, sir."

"Do you really not remember the conversation we had last night about Magic Min and his big, pretty hands?"

With a scoff, Hoseok feels affronted, mostly by his own drunken loose lips, and he presses a palm to his chest and gasps. Jimin cracks up laughing, then opens his mouth to say more before Hoseok cuts him off, feeling a sudden surge of paranoia.

"Wait! Scan around the room so I can make sure nobody is there."

With a huff, Jimin complies, muttering under his breath about how he thought they were best friends, but apparently, Hoseok does not trust him. Jimin's room is bright and floral, with clothing draped over absolutely every surface, and Hoseok is pleased to find that there are no other men in the room to overhear them.

"What did I say, exactly?" Hoseok asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Wow," Jimin laughs, shaking his head, "you really did black out, huh?"

With a groan, Hoseok grows impatient, and he raises his eyebrows, urging the other to go on.

"Alright, alright," Jimin concedes with a huff, laying flat on his back with his phone held in the air, pink hair fanned around his sleepy doll face. "You mostly muttered about his hands and his ass, and said you wanted to shoot your shot."

"Oh god," Hoseok grumbles, feeling embarrassed and letting his arm drop to a less flattering angle. "Did Jeongguk overhear me?"

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs. "No. Jeongguk and Taehyung were sucking each others faces all fucking night, they did not overhear a single thing any person in the entire club had to say."

Hoseok senses a bitterness in Jimin's tone but chooses to ignore it, pressing on. "And then what? Is that really all I said?"

"Yes!" Jimin insists, opening his eyes wide and angry. "You waxed poetic about his round little ass for like an hour. It was honestly too much. Too much! You need to get laid, preferably by him; I never want to hear about it again."

"Alright, alright," Hoseok grumbles, pouting and feigning offense. "Sorry for confiding in my best friend. I'll just find some other pretty twink to pour my heart out to."

Jimin sticks his tongue out and opens his mouth to respond, but a text notification from Yoongi pops down, and Hoseok stammers, "Sh-shit, he's texting me, gotta go!" and ends the call to the sight of Jimin looking as if he is ready to start yelling.

Hoseok sits up straight, runs a hand through his hair as if to make himself presentable, and swallows thickly as he opens the message.

Magic Min If you are available to go over the contract today, when might be a good time to send my goon to come pick you up?

Hoseok checks the time, relieved that it is only 10 am, and shoots off a quick text as he fumbles to get his feet untangled from his comforter.

Hoseok I'm free any time after 12.

The jostling around makes Hoseok feel nauseated the moment he stands, and he wobbles on his feet, letting his butt hit the mattress while he attempts to breathe through the hangover-induced vertigo. After a grueling handful of seconds, he trudges forward to the shower and begins his routine, leaving his phone behind.

Hoseok sits on the floor of the shower while water that is just slightly too hot for comfort beats down at him. He hugs his knees to his chest and rests his chin in the dip between them while attempting to weigh his options in a reasonable, mature manner.

Already, he is falling for Yoongi's charm – there is no doubt about that. But if the man is going to be acting as his manager for the Dior shoots, there is absolutely no way he can encourage anything to happen between them.

Although they are going to be signing a contract, it still feels too risky to allow Yoongi to have any more power over him than he may already have. Say Hoseok develops feelings for him, and Yoongi finds it to be some sort of weak spot that Hoseok has, making him vulnerable and easy to use. Hoseok could lose everything.

After enough deliberation and spacing out, Hoseok shampoos his hair while remaining on the floor, then he begrudgingly gets to his feet – feeling incredibly woozy in the process and clinging onto the wet white tiled wall. He washes and rinses his body as best as he can, then gets out, shivering as he wraps a fluffy towel around his shoulders.

Hoseok towel dries his hair and body, then walks out into his bedroom in the nude, weighing his options. He could still dress slutty just to see where he might stand with the man, but even then…knowing could be too dangerous. It is probably in his best interest to dress casual – but still cute – and keep all of his impure thoughts about large, veiny hands and a perfectly round butt at bay.

Before deciding on an outfit, Hoseok returns to his bed to check his phone. And although he is pleased to find a response from the man himself, he is a little disappointed by the message.

Magic Min How about 3? I have a prior engagement this morning, but I can be ready to sit down with you then.

Three is still several hours away, and Hoseok flings himself down onto his bed with an indignant sigh and groans. Sure, he has plenty of ways to spend his time between now and then, but the anticipation is going to eat away at his insides. He is far too eager to see Yoongi again.

He supposes he could get dressed and go down to his favorite cafe for a nice greasy egg sandwich and attempt to work on his hangover, in the meantime. And if he dresses a little slutty for his errand and ends up wearing the same outfit to meet Yoongi later, that is his own business.

Hoseok 3 sounds perfect, boss!

* * *

At 3 pm sharp, Hoseok receives a text message from the number he has affectionately saved in his contacts as Goon Squad, letting him know that his car has arrived. Hoseok shoots back a thumbs-up emoji, then slides his feet into black chelsea boots, checks his hair in a mirror beside the front door, pats down his pockets, and – with a spritz of Armani Code for women – does a twirl and heads out.

He has opted for a similar outfit as the one he wore yesterday, but this white tee is stretched at the neck and hangs off one side, showing his clavicle. His tight blue jeans are ripped, and he wears a black leather belt and a thin black choker, completing the look with a black denim jacket.

When Hoseok gets out to the sidewalk, he is pleased to find his favorite goon Seokjin parked at the curb in a familiar black sedan. As soon as he opens the passenger door, Seokjin tuts his tongue, making Hoseok laugh.

"Yah, no speaking to me," Seokjin snorts, holding up his palm as if to deflect Hoseok's greeting.

Hoseok gives the presented palm a high-five, chuckling to himself as Seokjin gasps, and then he settles in and buckles his seatbelt. Without another word, they take off down the street, making exactly one and a half blocks before Seokjin starts conversation.

"Yoongichi tells me you're being pursued by Dior."

Hoseok turns to Seokjin with his lips sealed tight and waits for the man to turn to him impatiently before raising his eyebrows.

Exasperated, Seokjin sighs, "You may speak," while waving his hand in a circle in Hoseok's general direction.

"Yup!" Hoseok chirps happily, flashing a wide smile that Seokjin clearly finds aggravating.

Seokjin looks between Hoseok and the road several times, shouting, "What? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

With a shrug, Hoseok turns his attention out the window, watching as the buildings along the street become more expensive. "There's not much else to say." As Yoongi's apartment building comes into view, he adds, "I'm excited."

"Well, good," Seokjin responds with just a hint of insistence. "You should be excited. Yoongi is extremely picky about who gets those top ad spots, but I had no doubt it could be you."

Although Hoseok's heart pounds, both from the weight of Seokjin's words and the proximity to Yoongi's apartment, he keeps his voice as calm as he can while crooning, "Awe, you're just saying that to butter me up."

Seokjin gasps, affronted, making Hoseok giggle as he shouts, "I butter up no man!"

"Sure," Hoseok responds, doing his best to sound unconvinced.

As they pull to the curb, Seokjin sits back in his seat and waits for Hoseok to exit. "I trust you know the way," he chirps when Hoseok makes no move to get out.

Hoseok unfastens his belt and opens the door unceremoniously, offering Seokjin a wave of his hand but saying nothing. His palms are prickling with sweat, and he is more than a little anxious about seeing Yoongi again.

He also has no idea whether he should alert Yoongi to his arrival or if Seokjin has, but he shuffles through the entrance and toward the elevator, reaching for his pocket to retrieve his phone to send a text.

Right on time, the elevator doors slide open, and Hoseok glances up to find Yoongi standing with one arm crossed over his chest and the other holding his phone, which he is looking down at. Hoseok hesitates long enough for Yoongi to glance up and raise his eyebrows.

He stumbles forward, struggling to pick up his feet fast enough, hoping Yoongi does not notice. If it were not for the very gentle tug of the corner of Yoongi's mouth, which Hoseok spots just as he enters the elevator, he would think his little flub had gone undetected.

"Nervous?" Yoongi asks softly, almost invitingly, sending a chill along Hoseok's spine.

"I guess so," Hoseok admits; no use in trying to play it cool when his career is being discussed.

It is not as if Yoongi is unused to these types of conversations with models, although Hoseok does wonder how many of them Yoongi has acted as an agent for. Now that he is standing in the elevator – the door of which is sliding open on the fourth floor – Hoseok wonders if he has made a mistake.

Yoongi presented the idea as if it was the simplest thing in the world, but could Hoseok be giving this man too much power? Should he have done some research to find out how to be prepared for a situation like this?

Yoongi exits the elevator first and punches a number on the keypad to unlock his studio, then he steps inside, holding the door with the tips of three fingers. Hoseok follows behind, silently taking in a deep breath of the musk that hangs around the room, eyes lingering on Yoongi's fingers as they brush away from the edge of the door and drop.

Once inside, Hoseok kicks out of his sneakers and robotically walks toward the couch, where Yoongi has set a stack of papers and a glass of water on the table before it. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and drapes it over his arm, hugging it tightly to his tummy.

"Would you like something to drink?" Yoongi offers, veering off toward the kitchen.

"Water is fine," Hoseok calls back, walking past where everything is set, so Yoongi can sit there.

The leather cushion whines under Hoseok's weight as he sits, and he scoots forward, knees tilted in toward the empty spot where he assumes Yoongi will sit, with his hands resting on his thighs. He places his jacket to the side, bunched up against the cushion.

Yoongi approaches and sits where Hoseok expected he would, also scooting forward on the edge, somewhat stiffly, like he is regretting having sat at all. He leans to set the glass of water in front of Hoseok, and Hoseok instinctively leans away.

"The contract is pretty simple," Yoongi drawls, sounding tired. "Please take all the time you need to read it over if you have not done so already. We have lawyers on standby if you would like for me to get anyone on the phone, but this contract does not differ much from the one you have already signed with me. When you are ready, come knock on the studio door and we will continue to discuss what comes next."

"Oh," Hoseok mutters, somewhat disappointed that Yoongi is going to leave the room. "Okay. Sounds good."

With a sigh, Yoongi places his hands on his knees, stands, and walks off toward the studio. Hoseok follows his movements, noting the very simple attire of a black tee tucked into black athletic pants with white stripes on the sides.

He is surprised to see Yoongi so dressed down and wonders what kind of prior engagement he might have had before this meeting. He wonders if Yoongi is dating someone; could they be upstairs in his apartment right now? Something like envy swirls in his insides, and he decides he needs to stop thinking about this.

Hoseok reaches for the glass, letting the cool condensation on the outside cover his palm and pull him back to earth. The water is cold as it goes down, making Hoseok shiver, and he has a nice big gulp of it before setting it back onto the table.

With a deep, fortifying breath, he unceremoniously wipes his palm onto his pant leg, then reaches for the contract. And he does his best to read through it – he really does. But he is distracted by Yoongi's proximity, even from the other room, and he keeps catching his thoughts drifting back to the man dressed down in black, wondering what he might be working on in his studio.

From what he can tell, there is nothing that gives Yoongi any more power or money; although Yoongi is stated as his representative, nothing changes in terms of how much decision-making power he has, as he still has full control over what does and does not make it into the magazine, and he remains the lead photographer. All of these are already stipulations for Hoseok working at the magazine in the first place.

No cuts or shares of Hoseok's profits will make it to Yoongi's pockets – he sees the word entitled a lot, referring to his own earnings – and if Hoseok is unhappy with the Dior campaigns, he has the right to sit down with Yoongi and the Dior team and discuss his desires, including but not limited to backing out of the contract. It seems – if he is reading correctly – that he really has nothing to lose.

Hoseok wonders if he should sign the document before realizing Yoongi had never left him with a pen. So, he gets up with a quiet sigh – contract in hand – and walks toward the studio. Anxiety rises with each step, and he knocks on the partially open door, then peeks his head inside.

Yoongi sits leaning back with his eyes closed, hands resting between the back of his head and the seatback of the chair. It takes him just a moment to open his eyes, notice Hoseok, and slowly sit forward. Hoseok makes note of how surprisingly toned Yoongi's upper arms are before they slowly drop down to his sides, and how pretty he looks with his eyes closed and face completely relaxed.

"Come on in," Yoongi says as he reaches forward and clicks a button that shuts off his monitor, causing the faint white glow of the screen to go out. The lighting in this room is dim, made more so by the absence of that light, with only a gold glow from a deskside lamp to fill this space consisting of a black ceiling, floor, and walls.

"Everything looks fine," Hoseok says as he steps slowly through the room, doing his best not to clench the contract in his hand, wondering why he feels so tense.

"Good to hear," Yoongi responds, standing from his chair.

Yoongi reaches for the document, which Hoseok hands over, and he sets it down, leaning his left hand against the desk. Hoseok's eyes trace the veins in Yoongi's arm as he turns to the last page, finds a pen sitting uncapped and ready on his desk, then signs and dates it.

"I get no shares or profits; you are entitled to everything you make," Yoongi says as he uses his fingertips pressed to the center of the papers to spin them so they face Hoseok. "And, I am sure you noticed, there is a clause in this contract that gives us the right to break it without consequence. This is simply a formation to provide a document stating my agency over you during these shoots."

"Thank you," Hoseok mutters as he gently takes the pen from Yoongi and signs and dates the contract.

Yoongi stands hunched over the desk with his palms planted firmly against it, and when Hoseok looks up from signing, their heads are surprisingly close together. Hoseok's eyes drift down to Yoongi's lips for only a blink of a second, then he meets his eye and gives a soft smile.

"Now what?" Hoseok asks.

He feels like he should stand up straight or take a step back – anything to lessen the tension that hangs thick and inviting the longer he and Yoongi hover in this proximity. The dewy, soft musk that emits from Yoongi is intoxicating, and Hoseok takes a slow, silent inhale, filling his chest with it.

Yoongi smiles, rolls his shoulders back, and stands up straight, much to Hoseok's chagrin – though he knows it is for the best.

"Celebrate?" Yoongi suggests, raising an eyebrow.

"Celebrate, how?" Hoseok asks as he stands up straight, heart pounding.

Yoongi shrugs. "I should have a bottle of champagne in my apartment. Shall we?"

"Oh, s-sure," Hoseok stammers as Yoongi begins to walk past him toward the door. The prospect of seeing Yoongi's apartment has Hoseok feeling excited and far more nervous than signing the contract could have.

Yoongi exits the studio and hovers around the door, closing it once Hoseok has walked through. Then he motions to the couch and says, "I'll be right back," walking toward the front door.

Although he has absolutely no reason to feel disappointed that Yoongi is not inviting him up, his tummy stirs nauseatingly. Yoongi has invited him up before, so why is now any different?

With a nod and a very forced smile, Hoseok makes his way over to the couch and plops down. As soon as the front door clicks shut, Hoseok lets out a deep sigh and rests his head back, closing his eyes in an attempt to get his wits about him.

Pining over Yoongi is of no use, especially now that the man is contractually bound to him as an agent, at least through the duration of the Dior shoots. For all he knows, it could only take them a week or two before everything is shot and ready. But it could also take months. Either way, he can manage to keep it in his pants that long; it is not as if Yoongi has ever made a move on him.

He even questions whether he has feelings for Yoongi at all or if Yoongi's past tryst with Jeongguk makes him want to dip his toe into the pool out of spite for his friend. He has always been the competitive type; perhaps thinking he could get more from Yoongi makes him want to see just how far he could go. Hoseok knows he needs to knock off this line of thinking.

It does not take long for Yoongi to return, and by the time he does, Hoseok has already convinced himself to stop thinking about him so fondly. Just because Yoongi is handsome, and has a deep voice, and is insanely wealthy, and is the head of a very popular magazine, does not mean Hoseok should get his panties in a twist whenever the man smiles at him. Frankly, Hoseok tells himself in a very stern inner voice, it is embarrassing behavior.

When Yoongi enters the flat clutching a bottle of champagne in his fist, his hair is tousled – messier than when he left. Hoseok does his best not to overthink it, but the way his waves frame his pretty face is distracting. Yoongi merely smiles as he enters and walks to the kitchen.

"Join me over here?" Yoongi calls, causing Hoseok to tense and look over his shoulder. "In case popping this open makes a mess."

"Sure," Hoseok says under his breath as he stands and pads over to the kitchen.

The kitchen is all long rectangles of light wood laminate that almost appears grey, with countertops in white and grey marble, with hardly anything atop. Everything appears far too sterile; this does not seem like the kind of kitchen someone like Yoongi would actually enjoy using.

Then again, Hoseok reminds himself, he does not know enough about Yoongi to be making this type of judgment call. Perhaps the man really is as vapid and empty as this space. Still, he wonders if the actual kitchen Yoongi uses in his apartment is any different.

Yoongi opens a cabinet that is practically bare of contents, pulls out two long-stem champagne flutes, and sets them on the kitchen island. Hoseok stands along the side of the island, with Yoongi in front of him, just to the left.

As Yoongi twists the end of the wire muselet that holds the cork in place, his smile grows, causing Hoseok to smile in turn. Hoseok expects a loud sound to follow the uncorking and manages to jump anyway, despite how soft the pop is. Yoongi pulls the top of the bottle free, only spilling a little foam as he tips the mouth toward one of the glasses and begins to fill them.

"This is a very big deal," Yoongi says as he waits for the carbonation to drop and continues to fill the flutes, stopping when they are just over half full of actual liquid, with bubbles up to the brim. "I have already given Dior the go-ahead to begin sending outfits, so we can begin the shoots either Tuesday or Wednesday."

Yoongi slides a glass toward Hoseok, then grabs his own and continues. "As for tomorrow, I want you to spend the day with Namjoon. He will take you to the spa for a facial and full body massage, and then to get a manicure and pedicure. On Tuesday, Namjoon and I will figure out what to do with your hair. I like that you have grown the back out a little; I think we can work with it."

In just a few short minutes, Yoongi has managed to give Hoseok enough information that he simply stands with his fingers wrapped around the stem of his glass and heavy blinks. As everything settles over him, Hoseok clears his throat and manages to mutter, "Oh—okay."

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head, then holds his glass up, and Hoseok follows suit, lifting his own. "You got Dior," he says, and Hoseok swallows a lump.

"I did, thanks to you," he says before he can stop himself, cringing inwardly over how he must sound.

Yoongi watches Hoseok for a beat before tilting his glass forward and tapping it against his. Hoseok lifts his to his lips, then takes a slow sip. The bittersweet liquid fizzes against his tongue, and he savors it as he slowly swallows it back.

"You're quiet today," Yoongi teases with his glass held to his lips.

The comment makes Hoseok feel shy, and he hopes his warming cheeks do not betray him by turning red. He almost apologizes before realizing he has nothing to be sorry for, and instead says, "It's just a lot to take in all at once."

"Fair," Yoongi says, tipping his glass back and emptying its contents into his mouth.

"I'm very grateful," Hoseok says, raising his glass to drink more but pausing and lowering it. "How long do you think we will be shooting for this particular contract?"

With a shrug, Yoongi leans forward on his elbows against the marble, watching Hoseok with his head tilted. "A few weeks, maybe. It depends on how they feel about the photos."

"And then what?" Hoseok asks with his lips against the rim of the glass, tilting it back to finish its contents.

Yoongi stands up straight and continues to regard him with a difficult-to-read expression, head slightly tilted. "What do you mean?"

As soon as Hoseok sets his empty glass down, Yoongi lifts the bottle and fills it back up. Hoseok leans on his elbows, displeased with how they dig into the hard, cool surface.

"I just mean when the contract ends," he nervously clarifies, "will there likely be more? Or will this be a one-time thing?"

"I suppose we have not discussed long-term plans," Yoongi says as he scoots forward a glass two-thirds full of champagne, to the brim with bubbles. "Ordinarily, models shoot with us with the goal of getting onto the cover and centerfold. You're already achieving that."

Hoseok reaches for his glass and straightens back out, lifting it to his lips. He supposes that with the cover promised to be his, there really is nowhere else he can go with M Magazine, outside of ad campaigns.

"Once you have the shoot with Dior under your belt, there will be an endless line of companies looking for you. And not just with my magazine; companies will want you front, back, and center of countless publications. I will be shocked if you are not invited to fashion shows after this."

"So I will need to find a proper agent," Hoseok laments, already concerned about what that process may look like.

"Eventually, it would be for the best," Yoongi agrees, lifting his glass to drink half of its contents. "I know people; I can start making phone calls and finding out who would be a good fit. You will want to conduct interviews and make sure to find someone who can best represent you."

With a sigh, Hoseok lets his arm drop slowly, resting his elbow against the marble with his glass dangling between his fingertips. Already, he feels a bit tipsy, and he realizes he should have eaten something before coming over here.

"Seems like a lot," he grumbles quietly.

"It's not too bad," Yoongi responds.

Hoseok drinks back the rest of his champagne and sets the flute down. When Yoongi shoots his drink back and reaches once more for the bottle, Hoseok chuckles.

"I should probably eat something," he admits, eyes falling to the marble counter.

"I could order some take out," Yoongi offers.

Hoseok's gaze lifts to find Yoongi with his elbows against the countertop, eyes on him. Tension hangs, and Hoseok wonders if Yoongi feels it. He hopes desperately that Yoongi does not.

"Alright," Hoseok agrees. Yoongi was the one who told Hoseok to never turn down payment when it is offered, and he thinks food counts as payment.

"There's a halal spot I like," Yoongi suggests, and Hoseok's stomach grumbles in response just thinking about falafel.

"Yes, please," he says perhaps a little too eagerly, making both of them chuckle.

Yoongi wastes no time taking out his phone and placing an order, and Hoseok sips on his champagne, easing into the idea of sharing more meals with his boss.

He turns and leans against the countertop, elbows against cool marble, and looks at the poster-sized magazine covers on the other side of the room. He wonders whether Yoongi ever hung Jeongguk on his wall but decides not to ask.

* * *

Spa day with Namjoon is everything Hoseok could hope it would be and so much more. The two of them wear matching black tees and joggers, which they agree upon over the phone before Namjoon picks him up, and they swing by a cute little bakery for pastries and coffee, and then set out for a day of pampering, all of Yoongi's dime.

Namjoon is excellent company and participates in each activity. He even has his nails painted a shimmery black while Hoseok gets a manicure, and apologizes profusely for being so ticklish during a pedicure.

They get facials and massages, and Hoseok does his best to ignore the deep, whiny grunts Namjoon makes while the masseuse walks across his back, all while struggling to keep his own sounds at bay. At the end of the day, when they are both properly pampered and feeling relaxed, Namjoon pulls up to a museum.

"No spa day is complete without a leisurely walk through some galleries," he insists, and Hoseok agrees.

He hardly sees any of the art, busy instead thinking about Yoongi and all that he has already done for him. Eating with him last night felt so comfortable, like spending time with a friend. A friend for whom Hoseok has a big fat fucking crush on, but a friend, no less.

Except, Hoseok knows Yoongi is not his friend, and therein lies so many conflicting feelings.

While in front of a giant painting of water lilies, Hoseok clears his throat and mutters, "Hey, Namjoon? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Namjoon responds, standing tall and turning his attention to Hoseok.

"Does Yoongi always go out on a limb for people?"

Namjoon chuckles and says, "Yes and no. Mostly no. Why do you ask?"

Hoseok swallows thickly, eyes trailing across the painting. He has no idea why he suddenly feels so shy. "I guess…I don't know…I heard he has a reputation for being cold…but he's been super nice and helpful to me."

"You're a good investment," Namjoon says simply.

It is not quite the answer Hoseok wants to hear, but it does make sense. "Ah."

"And I think he has a bit of a soft spot for you," Namjoon says, much quieter, making Hoseok perk up. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"Yes I absolutely did!" Hoseok responds, turning his full attention to Namjoon. "Say more!"

Namjoon chuckles and sways before turning and slowly walking toward another large painting of flowers, these ones standing tall in a vase.

"He just seems softer these days," Namjoon mutters with a shrug. He turns to Hoseok, showing off his dimpled smile as he says, "He's even being nicer to people."

This is alarming, and suddenly Hoseok feels eager to change the topic. It feels dangerous to think that Yoongi has a soft spot for him.

"I suppose having a good investment puts the man in a good mood," he says, shrugging the information away despite the quickening of his pulse.

"It's true," Namjoon replies. "So don't make the same mistake the others did and catch feelings. I see the way he looks at you…ignore it. I'm serious."

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "As if," he grumbles despite knowing he already is catching feelings, and fast.

* * *

Hoseok's first day as a Dior model is perhaps the best day of his life.

Namjoon dresses him in grey with a thick, long-sleeve shirt tucked into matching pants. He includes a demi-skirt that attaches with a buckle around his waist, hanging over his left leg in long pleats down to his ankle, and he picks out chunky, futuristic-looking white and grey high-top sneakers. To complete the look, Namjoon chooses a thick silver necklace and black sunglasses, and he slicks Hoseok's hair back.

"Look cocky," Yoongi instructs with a stern expression, eyes only leaving his camera viewfinder to give quick orders. "Chin up like you own the fucking place."

Hoseok obeys, smirking and tipping his chin upward. He raises an arm, hand held out as if to show off – as if to say, watch me shine.

"Perfect," Yoongi says, dropping his arms to his side, camera in his right hand with the strap wrapped around his wrist. He winks, giving Hoseok butterflies as he says, "Show-stopping."

* * *

The rest of the week feels like a blur. Hoseok is dressed in more lavish designer clothing, all of which he is given at the end of each shoot. He cannot wait to brag to Jimin; he plans on waiting until he has enough of the men's collection to bring Jimin over and open up his closet with fanfare and applause.

Despite his cold demeanor at work, Yoongi offers to drive Hoseok home twice, both times claiming he has business on that side of town. Both times squeezing Hoseok's knee and telling him he is doing great.

Hoseok's heart pounds as he exits Yoongi's car for the second day in a row. He glances back from the door of his apartment building and then scurries quickly inside when he realizes Yoongi is watching him.

"What am I doing?" he mutters to himself as he sprints up the short flight of stairs, eager to get all of his energy out.

He unlocks his apartment and leans against the door to close it tight, winded and attempting to get his thoughts together. It is impossible not to dwell on what Namjoon said to him on Monday about Yoongi becoming softer with him around.

His wandering thoughts always circle back to wondering whether Yoongi has feelings for him. I see the way he looks at you, Namjoon said, and Hoseok cannot stop dwelling on it.

It infuriates Hoseok to think about how badly he wants to text Yoongi and call Yoongi. He wants to be invited to eat another meal with Yoongi, and he wishes he could ask Yoongi for his opinion on random bullshit like fallen empires and wainscoting – anything to get the man talking; it doesn't matter what the subject is.

He wants to cultivate an actual friendship with Yoongi, but he has no idea what that looks like. How does someone befriend an enigma? How does Hoseok – a man who is working on becoming a star – befriend someone whose full face has never knowingly been seen at public events?

Hoseok kicks out of his sneakers and paces around his living room. He really wants to go out and drink with his friends, but he has an early morning tomorrow. It is the final day of shooting for Dior, and he has to pose with a bottle of cologne.

So instead, Hoseok opts to take a bath. He leaves a trail of his clothing from the living room to the bathroom, and once the tub is full of warm, bubbly water, he sinks all the way down until only his face sticks out.

Hoseok's phone buzzes against the closed lid of his toilet, and he perks up. Although he is curious about the source of the buzz, he feels too relaxed and warm to lift his arm. But then it buzzes again and again, and his interest becomes too piqued to ignore.

With a sigh, Hoseok lifts his arm from the sudsy water, dries his hand on a towel that is folded beside his phone on the toilet lid, and picks up the device. He unlocks the screen, opens his messenger app, and nearly drops his phone in the tub.

Magic Min Excellent work today, Hoseok!

Magic Min All week, really. You're killing it.

Magic Min How comfortable do you feel with shooting nude?

Hoseok very unceremoniously dries his other hand, throwing water and bubbles onto the tile floor in the process, lips moving around unvoiced words as he reads and rereads Yoongi's last message.

Hoseok Nude???

Hoseok has never been one to shy away from nudity. While in college, he even posed nude for the figure drawing classes, and he was obsessed with seeing all the different ways the students managed to capture his likeness.

But posing nude in front of his crush feels nerve-wracking, even if he has already posed in his briefs and gold paint.

Magic Min For the fragrance shoot, I was thinking we cover you in some kind of shimmery dust and pose you with the bottle resting against your skin. Something delicate and tasteful.

Delicate and tasteful. Hoseok hangs on those three words.

Hoseok I can handle that! Sounds fun.

Magic Min Perfect. I'll call Namjoon and tell him to bring a merkin for you tomorrow.

Hoseok does a search for what a merkin is, and it takes a moment for his eyes to communicate to his brain just what he is seeing. But then he realizes that it is a small, adhesive accessory to put over his dick and balls so that he can be nude but covered without needing to have underwear on.

He gasps and nearly drops his phone into the tub again. Then he tosses his phone onto the towel atop the toilet and sinks back into the water.

* * *

Hoseok cannot stop staring at his reflection, eyes glued to the skin-toned swath of fabric that covers his junk in a thin little pouch. He turns and eyes up the small piece of fabric that comes from between his buttcheeks and sticks to his skin, and marvels at the wonders of human creation.

"How does it feel?" Namjoon calls from the other side of the door.

"Like a thong, I guess," Hoseok responds. "But smaller."

"Can I come in?"

It takes a few seconds for Hoseok to process Namjoon's request, and he stares at his nearly nude body in the mirror, stammering around, "Y-yeah, uh, I guess."

Namjoon opens the door quickly and slips into the black-tiled bathroom. He holds a canister of spray-on glitter, and he eyes Hoseok's handy work quickly, making sure the adhesive does not run the risk of coming loose.

"I never get used to seeing these when they're skin-toned," Namjoon says as he removes the cap from the can and begins to shake it. "It's so strange to see a man naked but with no dick, you know?"

Hoseok laughs, feeling his anxiety lift some. "Totally."

Namjoon reaches into the pocket of his flowing black slacks and pulls out two black masks. "I don't need either of us breathing this shit in," he says as he hands one to Hoseok and then puts the other over his mouth and nose.

"Thanks, Joonie," Hoseok says as he puts his mask on. Then he stands up tall and waits to be sprayed.

"This is gonna be cold," Namjoon warns, making Hoseok chuckle. This is the second time he has heard that since joining M Magazine.

Namjoon is quick but thorough as he sprays cold glitter all over Hoseok's body. Then he ushers Hoseok from the bathroom to the makeup chair in the next room over and uses a powder on Hoseok's face and neck, and adds some to the already existing shimmer on his shoulders and chest.

"How often do you guys do nude shoots?" Hoseok asks as his nervousness begins to ramp up.

Namjoon's face is mere inches away from his own as he applies black mascara to Hoseok's lashes. "Not too often. Why?"

Hoseok shrugs, staring at Namjoon's concentrating face. "It's just…you know…this is the second time I've been stripped down and covered in gold."

Namjoon cracks a smile, then takes a step back. "You're not wrong."

"I get it," Hoseok says, finally allowing himself to blink. "I'm pretty sexy."

"Of course you are," Namjoon quips back. "Everyone Yoongi scouts is."

Once again, Namjoon comes in hot with shit that is not quite what Hoseok wants to hear. But he is grateful for how candid Namjoon always is with him. It's nice.

"All set?" Namjoon asks.

Hoseok nods, feeling a bit shy to leave this room.

"It's just me and Yoongi on set, so you don't have to worry about too many wandering eyes."

With a deep exhale, Hoseok mutters, "That's a relief."

The studio is warmer than usual, for which Hoseok is thankful. He walks with careful steps and approaches what looks like a bed resting in the middle of the room with a black backdrop. A fuzzy white sheet hangs from the small, raised mattress, and when Hoseok approaches and presses his hand into it, he is surprised to find it is filled with water.

"I want you on your stomach," Yoongi says, approaching from another room, causing Hoseok to startle and gasp. "Would you be offended if we placed the cologne bottle against the small of your back?"

"N-no," Hoseok mutters as he assesses how the hell to get up onto the water mattress. Luckily, Namjoon walks over with a small wooden step stool and offers Hoseok a hand.

Hoseok very carefully crawls to the center of the mattress, knees digging into whatever hard surface is beneath, and then he lays down. As he does, the mattress dips and creates a shape reminiscent of a cloud around him.

"Arms bent with your chin resting on your hands," Yoongi instructs, and Hoseok does as he is told, anchoring himself up on his elbows. "Maybe bend your legs? One more than the other, like you are kicking them back and forth."

Hoseok lifts his feet and bends his right leg more than his left. Then he does his best to take slow, shallow breaths in preparation for the bottle to be placed.

"Namjoon, would you mind adding some shimmer to his feet?"

Namjoon mutters, "Of course, boss," and very delicately brushes shimmer onto the bottoms and sides of Hoseok's feet, making him thankful he got a pedicure earlier in the week.

It feels awkward to lay in place, especially with a cold glass container placed on the small of his back. But Yoongi is quick with his shutter and wastes no time getting the shots and asking Hoseok to sit up.

"Legs bent and crossed in front of you, with your feet elongated and pointing downward," Yoongi instructs. "Hold the bottle close to your face and give me a simple cold expression."

Hoseok lifts and crosses his legs, pointing his toes downward and doing his best to keep his merkin shielded behind his shins. He drapes his free arm over one knee, elongating his fingertips, as well, and holds the bottle close to his cheek, staring into the lens.

"Stunning," Yoongi mutters, causing Hoseok's heart to pound.

Yoongi continues to position Hoseok while Namjoon stays close by to gently dust gold shimmer over his skin, and the morning moves rather quickly. Once they are finished, Namjoon brings a long, fuzzy black robe out for Hoseok to cover himself with, and staff members enter, moving objects around to create a new set.

"Break for lunch," Yoongi says, flipping through photos. "I just have a quick shoot to finish with another model, then I want to go over these with you when you return."

"Sounds good, boss!" Hoseok replies, chipper and satisfied.

He leaves the set in slippers and the robe, entering a common space where a table of food is laid out. Sandwiches and platters of fruits and vegetables greet him, and Hoseok grabs a white ceramic plate and gets to work filling it.

Then he sits and enjoys his food, staring ahead at the empty white wall while thinking about the photoshoot. He had been so nervous that he hardly made eye contact with Yoongi – which was easy, considering Yoongi's eyes rarely left his viewfinder.

Once he is finished eating, he walks the plate over to a plastic grey tub and places it inside with other dishes. Then he decides to return to the set and wait for Yoongi to be ready to speak with him, feeling eager to find out what he thinks of their shoot.

Only, when he enters the set, he stops in his tracks. Yoongi has his camera hanging around his neck, leaning close to a model, and he very delicately pushes the model's long, jet black hair behind her ear. She says something that Hoseok cannot make out, then giggles, and when Yoongi leans closer to say something that makes her giggle more, Hoseok feels the urge to throw up.

"Oh, hey Seok," Namjoon says as he leaves the makeup room and approaches with his arms crossed over his chest. "Break over so soon?"

Yoongi turns to look at Hoseok at the same time Hoseok tears his gaze away to nod at Namjoon.

"I was bored," Hoseok lies, nodding toward the makeup room. "Left my phone in there."

"Ah," Namjoon says, nodding in understanding. "Well, Seori just has one outfit to model, so Yoongi should be finished quickly."

Hoseok swallows thickly and nods, muttering, "Sounds good," while trying not to let his smile betray him.

"Just give me a couple minutes," Yoongi calls, and Hoseok nods, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

Yoongi proceeds to photograph the pretty model, who smiles brightly, giggling each time Yoongi tells her to move her limbs this way and that. Hoseok watches as she gives intense fuck-me-eyes to Yoongi and his camera, and waits somewhat impatiently as she takes her time praising Yoongi a little too flirtatiously and rubbing his bicep with her hand.

"Alright, Seori-ssi," Yoongi finally says, placing a hand over hers to make her stop. "I have more business to attend to, but thank you for being so flexible and coming in last-minute."

"I'm always flexible for you, sir," she says with a wink, to which Hoseok rolls his eyes before smiling sweetly and saying, "Nice work," when she walks by.

"Sorry for making you wait," Yoongi says, staring down at his camera. "Step into my office?"

What Yoongi calls an office is the entire second floor of the two-story building. It is half the width of the building, on top of the makeup, equipment, and common rooms, and it overlooks the entire studio from a glass wall that stays mostly covered by thick black curtains.

Hoseok follows Yoongi up a set of metal stairs with his hands sunken deep into the pockets of his fuzzy black robe. To his chagrin, Yoongi walks ahead, ass on display in tight black slacks. To make matters worse, Yoongi wears a tight black short-sleeve tee tucked into his slacks, and when he holds his office door open for Hoseok to enter, his arm flexes.

Yoongi's office looks a lot like his apartment studio, minus the kitchen. Large brown leather couches create a square around a dark table made from strangely shaped reclaimed wood, poster-sized magazine covers line the walls, and on the far end of the space is a large wooden desk with a brown leather top and several brown leather chairs surrounding it.

Photography equipment and set pieces are stacked here and there, and the lighting is quite dim, only shining in a purple glow from the high corners, near the ceiling. The long black curtains are pulled completely shut, blocking out any light that could come in from the studio.

Yoongi flips on a switch, brightening the space only slightly with a yellow glow, and he makes his way toward his desk, feet somewhat draggling, causing him to waddle ever so slightly. Hoseok follows, letting his gaze fall from Yoongi's ass to the dark wood floor, and he approaches the desk and begins to have a seat in one of the leather armchairs.

"Come around this way," Yoongi says as he plops down into his computer chair and clicks the monitor on. "You can sit on the desk if you want. I don't care."

Hoseok hesitates, then rounds the desk. Ordinarily, he would opt not to sit on the desk in a robe and merkin, but he suddenly feels far more worn out than he had moments ago and does not feel like pulling a heavy leather chair over from the other side.

Yoongi clicks around on his screen, then opens up files from today's shoot, filling the large monitor with nothing but Hoseok's skin covered in glitter. His ass and hips are prominent in many of the images, and he glances at Yoongi, watching the way his eyes trace along Hoseok's curves.

"What did I tell you?" he asks, smile breaking out across his face.

"You've told me a lot of things," Hoseok responds somewhat sheepishly, eyes glued to Yoongi's smile.

Yoongi chuckles, then turns to Hoseok. He sits back, crosses his arms over his chest, and says, "Under the right lighting you're show-stopping in the nude."

Hoseok rolls his eyes dramatically and then begins to laugh, and he is thankful when Yoongi laughs, as well.

Yoongi flips through the photographs, pointing out shots that he favors and complimenting Hoseok's expression and body language. They decide on a full body shot for the two-page centerfold and two closer shots for single-page spreads – one of Hoseok holding the bottle close to his face and the other with the bottle dangling from his outstretched hand. Then Yoongi shuts off his monitor and sits back with a sigh.

"Thanks for being so accommodating," Yoongi says, staring at Hoseok as if he has more he would like to say.

Hoseok shrugs. "It's no big deal. I had fun."

Silence hangs, making Hoseok feel tense. He watches Yoongi, who watches him, and he does his best to block out the interaction he witnessed with the model Seori, but it feels impossible to take his mind off of it.

"Need a ride home?" Yoongi finally asks. "I have to go that way."

"Sure," Hoseok responds. "That would be nice."

Yoongi stands and hovers in a way that prevents Hoseok from standing up from the desk.

"Sorry you had to see Seori flirting with me," he says so quietly, Hoseok wonders if he is making it up.

When Hoseok says nothing more, Yoongi's lips tug into a smirk. "I saw the way you were staring daggers into her."

Hoseok opens his mouth to respond, but only a scoff comes out. When Yoongi still doesn't back up, Hoseok raises an eyebrow and says, "I was staring daggers into both of you, actually."

"Oh?" Yoongi asks, smile widening. He slips his hands into his pockets, and Hoseok stops himself from looking at the way the fabric hugs his crotch.

"Not that I'm surprised, or anything," Hoseok continues, eager to see how much he can get away with. "You have a reputation, after all."

Yoongi sneers and Hoseok cannot tell if there is playfulness behind the look. It makes his anxiety spike, which he does his best not to show. When Yoongi finally does open his mouth to respond, Hoseok's heart pounds even harder.

"Don't tell me you are jealous, Hoseok."

"Jealous?" Hoseok bites back, tasting bile on his tongue. "Why would I be jealous?"

Yoongi leans close, warm breath wafting over Hoseok's face, smelling of mint. "Flirting is all part of the job, you know. Sometimes it's easier to get these models to do what I want when I make them think they're special."

Anger rises, and Hoseok stares into Yoongi's eyes. "And what are you doing, now? Do you also call this flirting?"

Yoongi scoffs, mouth forming something between a smirk and a scowl. He looks briefly down at Hoseok's lips and shakes his head.

"No. Right now I'm preventing myself from making a mistake."

Hoseok intakes a shaky breath, eyes falling to Yoongi's lips as he mutters, "A mistake?"

"Mmhmm."

"What mistake?" he asks, looking back into Yoongi's eyes.

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth and shakes his head, then he takes a step back and nods toward the door.

"Keep the robe if you want to. That way you don't get glitter on your clothing. I just need to close everything down and I'll meet you downstairs in a moment."

Hoseok nods, slides from the desk, and turns to leave the room. All he can think about is the fact that Yoongi seemed eager to kiss him just now, and he feels dizzy from the thought. What else could he have meant by making a mistake?

He wonders if Yoongi used the same bullshit line on Jeongguk.

Hoseok makes his way down the metal steps and walks into the makeup room, which is the first door on the left at the bottom of the stairs. Namjoon has folded his clothing neatly and placed the garments into a large paper bag, with Hoseok's phone and wallet on top of the pile.

"At least one person in this building isn't a confusing fucking asshole," he mutters under his breath.

Hoseok pulls his phone from the bag and shoots a text off to Jimin—

Hoseok Tonight. Drinks. I need to let off some steam.

—then he turns to exit the room, shocked to find Yoongi standing in the doorway.

"Boss?" he asks as Yoongi closes the door behind him and locks the handle.

"Can you keep a secret?" Yoongi asks, making Hoseok's heart go haywire.

Hoseok swallows thickly and nods, muttering, "Y-yeah."

"Good," Yoongi responds, closing the space between them. Hoseok leans away instinctively, pressing his lower back against the makeup counter. "I wanted to kiss you. Was it obvious?"

"Yeah," Hoseok utters softly, nodding. "It was."

"It seemed like you wanted to kiss me, too."

Hoseok swallows thickly, gaze falling to Yoongi's lips. "Yeah. I did."

"But you understand why we can't do that, yes?"

Hoseok is painfully aware of the power Yoongi could hold over his head if he allowed even a sliver of intimacy to take place between the two of them.

"I do."

"Good. Glad to have that cleared up."

Yoongi is far too close for comfort, and Hoseok wishes he would take a step back and let him breathe. But instead, Yoongi stands still and quiet, watching Hoseok as if he is waiting for him to say something.

But what the fuck could Hoseok possibly say? Thank him for wanting to kiss him? And for having the wherewithal to hold back? He would rather not say a word and hope that they can let this go without ever bringing it up again.

"Shall we?" Yoongi finally asks, taking a step back.

Hoseok lets out a deep breath, heavy-blinking as he nods. "Alright."

Yoongi turns and opens the door, and Hoseok gives him space before grabbing his bag and following. Now that all of that is out in the open, Hoseok feels strange about letting Yoongi drive him home. He can definitely afford to use a cab service now, but he decides he would rather spend that money later, at the club with Jimin.

The ride home is quiet, and Hoseok cannot decide whether it is a good thing or not. Knowing Yoongi may have similar feelings for him only serves to make him feel more anxious around the man.

Then again, Yoongi could just be using it as leverage to make Hoseok more accommodating. As he said, he flirts as a means to get models to do what he wants.

Hoseok hardly says goodbye when Yoongi pulls up to his place, and he does not turn to look at him, uttering a quick, "Thanks," before taking his leave. The moment he is inside his building, panic rises, and he feels the overwhelming urge to cry.

* * *

"He what?" Jimin screams over loud club music. Hoseok looks around, thankful their other friends are nowhere to be seen. "I'm sorry, what the fuck?"

Hoseok nods and sighs. "Jeongguk was right. Dude's a fucking asshole."

"What kind of man teases you about the possibility of him making you jealous and then says, with his whole fucking chest, that he wants to kiss you but that it would be a mistake?"

"An asshole," Hoseok sighs.

"Man, fuck that guy." Jimin is all riled up, stomping cutely in his shimmery black boots. He wears a black mesh top and a black tennis skirt with a white stripe just above the bottom hem, accentuating his incredible legs.

Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, causing glitter to rain down. Rather than shower when he got home earlier, he just changed out of the merkin and into a tight white tee and black booty shorts, and met Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk for drinks at a small dive bar while waiting for the club to open. He is still covered head to toe in glitter.

Hoseok is rather drunk and has switched to water. And despite the night still being somewhat young, he feels the urge to call it a night and crawl into bed.

"When does your Dior contract end?" Jimin asks, tilting his head in concern.

"Not sure. It could be over now, unless they decide to shoot more outfits."

"Annoying," Jimin huffs. "He should be more clear about that kind of thing."

Hoseok hums.

"The one time the man can't fucking communicate," Jimin adds, making Hoseok laugh despite not really feeling in the mood to.

"I'm grateful for all he has done," Hoseok says. He takes a drink of cold water from a flimsy plastic bottle that crackles loudly with each movement. "But it would have been better for him to just…not be the way he is. None of it is necessary."

"Exactly."

"Like, if he wants to kiss me then fine, whatever. But he doesn't have to corner me and make it into a whole weird ass thing!"

"Exactly!"

Hoseok sighs. "I might go home. Now that I'm out and drunk, I just feel sleepy."

"Valid," Jimin says, nodding. He turns and looks through the crowd long enough to spot their friends grinding on the dancefloor not too far from them. Then he turns back to Hoseok. "Get yourself to bed. I'm gonna try to suck one of their dicks tonight."

Hoseok rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, earning him a slap on the arm. He sits forward and wiggles his phone out from his back pocket, opens an app to call for a cab, then thumbs over to a message he received while ranting to Jimin.

Min Asshole Think you could come in tomorrow? Dior wants one more outfit, and the deadline for the first draft is Monday.

Hoseok sighs and tips his head back, closing his eyes while contemplating his existence. It would be foolish to turn down more money, but he would rather pull his teeth out than see Yoongi again so soon.

Hoseok Just saw this. I can, but I might be hungover.

Hoseok is shocked when his phone rings, screen lighting up with the name Min Asshole in big white text. He sighs and ignores the call, then sends Yoongi a text.

Hoseok At the club. 2 loud 2 talk on the phone. I can call in 10 when I get home.

Min Asshole Do you need a ride home?

Hoseok scoffs, then checks on his app to see that a cab will be arriving in three minutes.

Hoseok Nah, taking a cab.

Min Asshole If you're up to shoot tomorrow, we can do it any time. I can pick you up whenever you're feeling up for it, even if it's later in the evening.

Hoseok K.

Jimin sighs loudly, pulling Hoseok's attention.

"Sorry. Min Asshole wants me to shoot more tomorrow."

This news causes Jimin to stand straight up, expression opening with surprise. "On a Saturday? You gonna do it?"

Hoseok shrugs. "May as well. I got a car coming though, so I'm gonna call it a night. Have fun with your…you know."

Hoseok lifts his hand and mimics sucking dick, pushing his tongue into his cheek. Jimin giggles and slaps him once more on the arm then opens his arms for a hug, which Hoseok steps forward to accept.

"I'm sure one of them would be accommodating if you wanted to join us," Jimin offers, waggling his eyebrows.

Hoseok wouldn't mind making Taehyung or Jeongguk whimper, but he's just not in the mood. "Thanks anyway, but I'm tired."

"Alright," Jimin says, reaching for his bright blue drink and chugging the rest of it back. "Text when you're home!"

"Will do," Hoseok says.

His phone dings, signaling his car is pulling up, and he grabs his jacket and makes a beeline for the door. The driver says nothing the entire ride, and Hoseok stares out his window, doing his best to stay alert despite feeling rundown and exhausted.

Once home, Hoseok shuffles up to his apartment, throws his belongings to the floor, and shimmies out of his clothing on his way to take a quick hot shower. He towels off in a hurry, rushes through his nightly skincare routine, and climbs into bed nude, clenching his phone in his hand.

He wants to call Yoongi and give him a piece of his mind but he refrains, thinking in circles instead about Yoongi's behavior before drifting to sleep.

When he wakes up, he feels exhausted. He sighs as he rubs the comforter in search of his phone, then he turns the screen on, sees that it is 9 in the morning, and closes his eyes to sleep longer.

Unfortunately, his bladder has other plans for him, and after several long moments of laying as still as possible, he gives up with a groan and throws his comforter aside. He decides that he will go ahead and start the day, but he is not going to be happy about it.

Begrudgingly, he shoots a text to Yoongi and slowly starts his morning routine.

Hoseok I'm up. What's the plan, boss?

Hoseok is surprised when two hours pass before he hears anything. He half expects Yoongi to be the type to get up bright and early, ready to work. He is halfway through an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants when his phone vibrates.

Min Asshole Pick you up at 3? Have you eaten?

With a little over two hours to spare, Hoseok decides he may as well agree and get it all over with. And although he has plenty of time to feed himself, he considers allowing Yoongi to spend more money on him.

Hoseok 3 works. I have not eaten.

Three dots appear and Hoseok watches, waiting for a response to come.

Min Asshole Perfect. Joonie keeps talking about this chicken spot that just opened in the neighborhood, so I plan to send him to grab a to-go order. Come hungry if that sounds good.

It does sound good. Hoseok sends a thumbs-up emoji and sinks onto the couch. Between now and then, he plans to do nothing but space out.

What he does not plan, however, is to fall asleep. Hoseok wakes to the sound of his phone ringing, and when he sees Min Asshole on the screen, he begins to panic.

"Shit," Hoseok mutters as soon as he answers the call. "I passed out."

"Oh," Yoongi says. "Do you need time to get ready?"

"Nah," Hoseok says through a yawn, sitting up tall to stretch his back and neck. "Just need to put on some shoes and brush my teeth. But, uh, not in that order."

"Cool," Yoongi responds. "Take your time."

"Are you here already?"

"I am."

"Alright. I'll be quick."

Hoseok hangs up the call and shuffles to his bathroom to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair. He wears a set of black silk pajamas that he stumbled into this morning and he opts to stay in them, sliding his feet into fuzzy black Ugg slippers.

He finds a small black handbag and packs his phone, wallet, and keys. Then he locks up and heads down the stairs and out into the sunny day.

Yoongi is on his phone when Hoseok tries the door, and it takes him a second to put his phone away and unlock the door.

"Good afternoon, sunshine," Yoongi drawls as he eyes up Hoseok's attire. His musky, floral cologne cloys Hoseok's senses, making him fight a sneer.

Hoseok grunts, gets settled, and puts on his seatbelt. With a low chuckle, Yoongi drives off.

"Hungover?" he asks at a red light.

Hoseok keeps his eyes ahead but can see Yoongi turn to regard him. He shrugs and says, "Not so much after taking a nap. Now I'm just trying to wake up."

"That's good."

Hoseok nods somewhat listlessly and Yoongi laughs.

"You're mad at me," he says.

Hoseok shrugs, thankful for the light turning green so Yoongi has to look at the road.

"Just tired," he lies.

"Alright," Yoongi says.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Yoongi parks beside the curb in front of his building, and right as Hoseok gets out of the car, Namjoon pulls up behind them.

"Great timing!" Yoongi shouts as he makes his way to Namjoon's vehicle.

Hoseok does the same, albeit dragging his feet. Namjoon hands Yoongi a white plastic bag full of brown takeout boxes, and Yoongi walks ahead to unlock the building.

Hoseok hangs back to greet Namjoon in a half hug, glad there is not more for him to carry.

"He told me," Namjoon mutters, rubbing Hoseok's back.

Hoseok tenses and then sighs. He supposes there is nothing to worry about with Namjoon but he does feel rather strange about it. What did he tell Namjoon, exactly? That he wanted to kiss Hoseok but chose not to?

"Thanks for the chicken," Hoseok says as they make their way to the building, trailing behind Yoongi, who stands in front of the elevator, waiting.

"Yoon mentioned you might be hungover today," Namjoon says in a commiserating tone. "Nothing cures that quite like greasy food."

"True," Hoseok chuckles. "Fried chicken always hits the spot."

They make their way to the fourth floor, and Hoseok kicks out of his slippers and walks over to the couch, to the spot he always sits. Yoongi takes the food into the kitchen and begins to unpack everything.

With Namjoon around, Hoseok is able to forget about how much he hates Yoongi's stupid, pretty guts. He averts his attention from Yoongi's messy long hair and how it falls in waves around his face. He successfully ignores how good Yoongi looks dressed down in a black t-shirt and tight blue jeans.

Namjoon wears a soft white sweater with lapels that hang open, showing hints of skin, and loose-fitted blue jeans from which his toes barely stick out, and he looks soft and snuggly – the perfect distraction from his asshole boss.

They eat fried chicken and tteokbokki, then Namjoon works his magic making Hoseok's eye bags disappear. Yoongi presents Hoseok with a silk shirt to replace his current silk shirt, and Hoseok begins to unbutton his top right here in the middle of the small, dimly lit studio.

Since these two men have seen Hoseok almost entirely nude, he has no interest in modesty. He is too physically, emotionally, and spiritually tired to care. And if he wants to flaunt himself in front of the asshole who enjoys teasing him, that is his own business.

Hoseok shrugs his black top to the floor and then carefully puts on the Dior shirt. It is loose-fitting and covered in the light blue Dior logo with a tan background, which repeats in diagonals along the entire garment.

"There are matching pants, as well, but it sounds like they just want closeups of this piece," Yoongi informs while Hoseok makes delicate work buttoning the shirt.

He buttons it all the way to the top, and then Namjoon approaches to smooth the fabric down over his shoulders and chest, straightening the lapels. Then he holds out a hand, ushering Hoseok to go to the far end of the room and stand in front of the black wall.

Yoongi switches on the lighting equipment and begins to shoot without instruction. Hoseok stands up straight, expression flat, twisting and leaning every so often, alternating looking at the camera and off to the side, in time with Yoongi's rapid shutter.

Once they are finished, Yoongi thanks Hoseok for his time and Hoseok walks across the room, grabs his black silk top from where Namjoon draped it over the back of the vanity chair, and leaves the room. He unbuttons the Dior shirt, shrugs it off, drapes it delicately over the back of a sofa, and quickly puts his own shirt back on before gathering his handbag.

"Need a ride?" Namjoon asks.

Hoseok looks up, finding Yoongi leaning in the doorway of his studio while Namjoon approaches to slip on his shoes.

"Sure," Hoseok says. "That would be nice."

He slides on his fuzzy slippers, waits for Namjoon to be ready, and gives Yoongi a limp flick of the wrist as a goodbye, not bothering to see whether Yoongi waves back. Once he is in the elevator and the doors slide closed, he lets out a deep sigh.

"You didn't hear this from me," Namjoon says, making Hoseok whip his gaze to where Namjoon stands to his right. "Seori, the model with the long black hair, is someone Yoongi used to sleep with. That behavior you walked in on…it's just the way they are."

"Man," Hoseok grumbles, feeling his heart sink. "The rumors really are true."

Namjoon laughs and sighs. "Unfortunately."

"I fucking hate him."

"Seems like you like him."

Hoseok rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Unfortunately."

"I'm surprised you're not trying to shake me down for what he said to me about last night," Namjoon teases as the elevator door opens.

"What's the use?" Hoseok asks as they walk through the lobby toward the front door. "I don't think knowing how he feels about me would make this situation any better. And I don't want to make you snitch on your friend."

"Good point," Namjoon says as he opens the front door to the building and holds it for Hoseok to walk through.

"How many ex fuck buddies does Yoongi have at the company?" Hoseok asks as they approach Namjoon's little black sports car.

"Sure you wanna know?" Namjoon asks.

The car beeps unlocked, and Hoseok sighs as he says, "No."

On the drive home, Hoseok decides he would like to get drunk once again. And as soon as Namjoon drops him off, he sends Jimin a text saying as much. It is only half past six, so Hoseok lays on his couch and takes another nap before waking up and getting ready.

Hoseok wears the black silk pajama top to the club, unbuttoned over tiny white shorts, with his hair styled messily, still wearing the makeup Namjoon applied earlier. He and Jimin take far too many shots, Hoseok finds someone cute to exchange sloppy handjobs with in a bathroom stall, and then he gets home just in time to black out on his way to bed.

Sunday is a blur of waking up only to take care of bodily functions and return to bed. He more or less sleeps the entire day away, ignoring his friend's calls to join them for a meal, and he wakes up bright and early Monday morning in a sour mood.

He is difficult all morning, barely looking at or speaking to Yoongi. For the first time since joining M Magazine, Yoongi complains that Hoseok is not giving enough and that his photos are not turning out as well as they should be, making Hoseok's mood worse.

Yoongi wraps up the shoot, does not offer to show Hoseok any of the photos, and when Hoseok returns from the makeup room, thumbing through his phone to order a cab, he overhears Yoongi telling one of the female models, "I was thinking that I want you on the next cover, instead."

Anger rises, and Hoseok storms out before he can say something to Yoongi that he might regret, and as soon as he is out into the bright evening air, tears pour down his cheeks.

"Fuck this," he grits, crossing his arms over his chest. If he is this easily replaced, all over a kiss that never happened, he is certain that he does not need to work with Yoongi anymore.

What kind of ego must a man like him have if this is the way he behaves? God forbid he is not allowed to fuck every single person who sashays into his studio.

Although he attempts to keep from crying in the back of the cab, a few stray tears roll down his cheeks. Once he is inside his apartment with his shoes and jacket discarded in the middle of the floor, he storms over to his fridge and takes out a bottle of soju.

On an empty stomach, Hoseok drinks the bottle and two more, crying while SpongeBob SquarePants gets into silly little antics on the television. He wants to call Yoongi and give him a piece of his mind, but he texts Jimin instead.

Hoseok All men do is lie.

Hoseok is not at all surprised when Jimin responds immediately, and he feels thankful for his best friend.

Jimin Tell me about it, honey.

Hoseok I'm so close to calling Min Asshole and giving him a piece of my fucking mind. He is aggravating!!!

Jimin Have you been drinking?

Hoseok Maybe…

Jimin Hmm. Maybe you shouldn't call him. Although! It might be good for you to get your feelings off your chest. Maybe a well-penned text would be good.

Hoseok Not sure I could say how I feel clearly through text. I'm fucking pissed, for real.

Jimin Do you think he would fire you if you called him and cussed him out?

Hoseok sighs. At this stage, he is already getting the magazine cover taken from him, so what does he care if he loses everything else? He has already been paid for his time, and most of the Dior goodies are in his bedroom.

Hoseok I don't really care, honestly. It would be a blessing to never have to see his stupid face again.

Jimin Fuck it. Call him.

"Fuck it," Hoseok says to himself.

He thumbs through his phone, finds Yoongi's contact and calls him. As the phone rings, Hoseok stands up, stumbling from the way blood rushes to his head. He feels antsy, and with each dial tone the phone makes, his anticipation and anger build.

The call goes to voicemail, infuriating Hoseok, who hangs up. He is not eager to vent to the cloud where Yoongi can have access to his anger any time he pleases. He needs to do it where the man can hear it in real-time.

Hoseok paces around his living room, drunken rage coursing through his veins. He considers calling Yoongi back when his phone begins to ring.

As soon as Hoseok answers the call, he opens with, "I'm quitting."

His mind is made up, there is no backing down; no way in hell he would consider allowing Yoongi to continue to torment him.

After a pause, Yoongi asks, "Hoseok…what is this about?"

"I heard you before I left," Hoseok says, words slurring a bit. "I heard you telling that pretty bitch that you were going to give her the cover instead of me! I'm not tolerating this kind of treatment! All because you wanted to kiss me? This is fucking ridiculous!"

"Hoseok," Yoongi says calmly, "are you at home? Can we talk in person?"

Hoseok scoffs and shakes his head. "You are insane if you think I ever want to see you again."

"I don't want to do this over the phone, Hoseok. I'm coming over. Be there in ten."

"I said no!" Hoseok shouts, stomping his foot like an angry child. "You don't get to just push people around, Yoongi! No means no!"

"Hoseok," Yoongi sighs. "I'm not giving your magazine cover away. I'm putting Sunmi on the next issue. The one after yours."

Hoseok stops in his tracks and mulls over Yoongi's words. His voice is much softer as he says, "But you used the word instead."

"Instead of another model who was slated to be next. I changed my mind."

With a huff, Hoseok stares at the wall. He has no idea what to say, but he is not eager to back down from his threat of quitting.

"Please let me come talk to you about this."

Hoseok sighs, squeezes his eyes closed, and mutters, "Fine."

"Good," Yoongi says. "I'm already halfway there."

"You're insufferable," Hoseok mutters, surprised when Yoongi chuckles.

"I know." There is a pause, and Yoongi says, "Be there soon."

"Fine," Hoseok responds before ending the call.

He makes quick work of rinsing and recycling his soju bottles, making a little too much noise in his inebriated state, and he picks up stray clothing that had been left in the middle of the living room floor, chucking it unceremoniously to his bedroom floor instead.

By the time Hoseok returns to the living room, Yoongi is calling again.

Hoseok accepts the call and grunts, "Hmm?"

"Let me into the building," Yoongi says.

"Wow, no please?"

"Pretty please?" Yoongi teases.

Hoseok shuffles over to the call box near his door and presses a button. Through the phone, he can hear the front door buzzing, followed by the sound of Yoongi letting himself in.

"Second floor, apartment 222."

"I know," Yoongi responds nonchalantly.

"If you know then why did you call? You could have just buzzed from the box outside."

Yoongi hums and Hoseok closes his eyes, listening to the deep, rough sound accompanied by the creaking sounds of footsteps traveling up the old wooden stairs.

"I know," he says. "But this way, I can hear your voice."

Curse the stupid little butterflies in Hoseok's stupid little tummy. He rolls his eyes at Yoongi's confession and does his best to play it cool.

"You're literally going to hear my voice when you get to my apartment."

"Lucky me," Yoongi responds in a tone that is far too playful for Hoseok's own good.

Realization hits that Yoongi is just outside Hoseok's door, and his anxiety spikes. His plan backfired in the worst possible way, and now he is moments away from having his handsome boss inside his apartment while he wears an oversized white t-shirt and very short baby blue pajama shorts, barefoot and on the outskirts of feeling drunk.

Three soft knocks cause Hoseok to stare at the door. His fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and he considers playing dead rather than opening it.

"You gonna let me in?" Yoongi asks, and Hoseok hangs up the call and then twists the front door knob, pulling it open.

Yoongi wears a black bomber jacket over a brown sweater, with blue jeans and black sneakers. He smiles softly while taking in Hoseok's appearance, then cocks his head and asks, "Have you been drinking?"

Hoseok scoffs, mutters, "Nice to see you, too," and turns to get away from the door.

"Don't be like this," Yoongi grumbles as he lets himself inside, closes the door, and toes out of his shoes.

Hoseok attempts to hold his ground, standing with his hands on his hips while glaring at Yoongi. But Yoongi reaches for Hoseok's wrist, giving it a gentle tug, causing Hoseok to completely unravel and stumble forward.

"You're not going to talk me out of quitting," Hoseok mutters playfully.

"I'm not here as your boss," Yoongi says as he gently takes Hoseok by the chin and pulls him close.

"Then what are you doing?" Hoseok asks. "Why are you here?"

Yoongi's other hand wraps around Hoseok's waist, palm splaying warm across his lower back, pulling him even closer. A gasp tumbles from Hoseok's lips, arms hanging frozen to his sides as Yoongi smiles and very slowly slots their lips together.

Hoseok does not move at first, too dumbfounded by the soft, warm press of Yoongi against him. But when he does finally open his mouth, Yoongi darts his tongue inside, making Hoseok whimper.

He has no idea how he ends up with his back against the wall, fingers gripping tightly to the sleeves of Yoongi's jacket, but he sighs as Yoongi presses against him, slotting a leg between his and dancing his fingertips down his neck. Yoongi kisses slow and deep, groaning into Hoseok in low, pretty notes, making his fucking head spin.

Then Yoongi breaks the kiss, takes a step back, and asks, "Soju?"

"Yeah," Hoseok mutters, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

"How much have you had to drink," Yoongi asks, delicately lowering Hoseok's hand from his mouth.

He stands close enough that Hoseok feels as if the only oxygen he inhales is what Yoongi gives him from his own lungs.

"Enough to call my boss and tell him that I quit."

"What does that translate to in number of bottles?"

Hoseok feels shy as he says, "Three."

Yoongi hums and nods, then takes a step back. "I apologize. I shouldn't kiss you while you are drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Hoseok mutters, eager to feel Yoongi's warmth against him again.

"Look…to be honest, I guess I did come here as your boss," Yoongi says, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "To ask you not to quit…and to talk you out of it, in case you felt like being stubborn."

"Ah," Hoseok mutters, frustrated. "So you opened with a kiss to soften me up and make me do what you want."

Yoongi's gaze sharpens, and he tips his head to the side. "I opened with a kiss because I wanted to kiss you, Hoseok. It's pretty clear that we've both wanted it."

"What happened to telling me that we can't do this?" Hoseok knows he is pushing Yoongi's buttons, and he does not wait for a response, just nods and shrugs, continuing, "Well you got what you wanted. I won't quit, alright? Now we can pretend this never happened and go back to having a work only relationship."

Yoongi slowly blinks. "You want to pretend this never happened?"

With a sigh, Hoseok kicks from the wall, arms wrapped tight around his middle. He feels cold, and he wants to return to the fuzzy blanket on his couch.

"I'm not going to let you flirt with me just to get what you want," Hoseok says, avoiding eye contact with Yoongi. "You're not going to use me the way you use the others."

"I don't plan to use you," Yoongi responds defensively.

"Good. Whatever." Hoseok grabs the blanket on the couch and wraps it over his shoulders. The tan material is soft and cool, but it quickly warms from his body heat. "Well, you win. I'm not quitting. Is that all?"

Yoongi swallows visibly, watching Hoseok. Then he shrugs and says, "Yeah. That's all."

"Alright, well, good night, Yoongi."

Yoongi sighs. "Good night, Hoseok."

Hoseok watches as Yoongi turns to put his shoes back on. He takes his time untying each one, sliding his foot in, and tying it. Then he stands up straight, reaches for the door, and hesitates.

Part of Hoseok wishes Yoongi would ask for another kiss. Or lunge forward and claim his lips without asking. But he is glad when he does not.

"I think I'm going to take a personal day tomorrow," Yoongi says, "so consider it a day off."

"Alright," Hoseok responds.

"Not a punishment or anything…I just have a lot of work to catch up on with this upcoming issue."

"Okay."

"Plan to come in as usual on Wednesday."

"Sounds good."

"If I call," Yoongi hesitates, eyes falling to the floor, "will you answer?"

"Yeah," Hoseok admits. Of course, he would.

"Alright. Bye, Hoseok."

Yoongi opens the door and steps out, and under his breath, Hoseok mutters, "Bye."

woof okay, i was not planning on making this chapter so fricken long but i had 8k words of utter nonsense before honoring everything in the outline, and then one thing led to another, and here we are. 😅 the length isn't even what slowed this down tho lmao i wrote a little over half of it just yesterday.

more coming soon!!! comments & reblogs will make me want to work on it faster! likes are always so so appreciated!!! thank you so much for reading!!!

tag list: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @itsmina29 @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 📸

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#hoseok x yoongi #yoonseok #sope #yoonseok smut #hoseok smut #bts writers club #yoonseok angst #hoseok angst #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts angst #fic: showstopper

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