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bangtanflirt · 9 months

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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 1)

I'm finally showing up in tags again woohoo! 🥳 Thank you guys for your patience!

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: needles, torture collars, misogyny in the workplace, probably very inaccurate business talk (pls suspend disbelief lmao)

____

The day starts off as typical as any other, with your assistant bringing you your morning coffee. You mindlessly take a sip while scrolling through your emails, except what welcomes your lips isn’t the usual Americano, but some Iced Matcha abomination—disgustingly too sweet for nine o’clock in the morning. You look up, ready to give Assistant Min a piece of your mind, but instead see a woman in his place.

“Who are you?”

The woman flashes you a nervous smile, hands fiddling in front of her stomach.

“Yoongi-ssi had an emergency, so I’m filling in. I’m the new hire, S—”

“I don’t care what your name is, this isn’t my coffee order. Bring me my Americano before my first meeting.”

“I’m so sorry! I was taking orders for all the executives, so I got confused. I’ll bring it asap!”

She runs off, feet clicking with each hurried step of her heels.

You toss the unnaturally green drink in the trash, annoyed at the setback in your morning routine. After shooting a quick "Are you okay?" text to Yoongi, you're back to your work.

Emails pile up in your inbox as they do every morning, mountains of classified information that you need to comb through before your 10am meeting. It’s tedious, but it’s the family business after all. Your grandfather started Shin Investments in the forties, and your dad took the business to new heights when he took over, now with your parents retired and on some island in god-knows-where, it’s up to you to make sure the company doesn’t lose its footing in the venture capitalist industry.

It's twenty minutes later when your Americano does arrive. Your eyes narrow into slits upon holding the cup in your hands.

“It’s lukewarm.”

“Oh my god, I apologize! Mr. Han stopped me on the way here, briefing me about what to prep for the afternoon meeting. I did not mean to take so long! I’ll heat it up and bring it back.”

You wave your hand dismissively.

“No need. You’re fired.”

The woman almost stumbles on air at your words, catching her balance quickly.

“Miss Shin p-please..I really need this job! I won’t make a single mistake from now on!”

“Too late.” You reach for the cup, the second one of the day to end up in the trash. “Please leave before I call security. I have work to do and no caffeine to help me.”

She doesn’t leave, but rather falls to her knees, waterworks in full effect. You let out a irritated huff.

“Please! Please, I need this!”

You don’t pay the commotion any attention, used to such scenes happening in your office by now. You simply dial security.

Your receptionist watches the new girl get dragged out, eyes sympathetic as she’s tossed right in front of the front desk.

“She-she fired me…all for a cup of coffee…I’ve worked so hard to get into this company and she just…for a fucking cup of coffee!”

Mascara stains a black rim around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry Seulgi-shi. You don’t deserve that.”

“M-maybe I should go beg for a second chance after some time has passed? What if I come back in the eve—”

“You’ll be wasting your time. That would’ve worked with the previous bosses…but Miss Shin is as tough as it gets. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve seen countless people get fired for less than a cup of coffee—dragged out here just like you.”

You overhear the conversation, as the security guard didn’t properly close the door on their way out. You can’t say it makes you feel all that good, crushing some fresh-faced new hire’s dreams, but it sends a message. You knew what you had to do once the company was signed over for you—how you had to conduct yourself to survive. The world of venture capitalism was cutthroat to say the least, and still considered “not women’s business” by many. The sad reality was that, if you wanted to be taken seriously, you’d have to be feared—because respected was rarely an option. So, you play your role well and let the rumor mill do the rest, so everyone knows not to mess with the ruthless bitch of a CEO at Shin Investments.

You walk into the meeting room and the vibe immediately changes: the once lively room of everyone asking each other how their weekends went turns silent enough to hear a feather fall. Only sound is that of your red-bottoms click-clacking and earrings jingling. You take your seat, motioning for the standing executives to do the same. They can tell you’re more irritated than usual, and that could easily mean a demotion with one wrong move.

“Everyone’s here so let’s jump into it: where are we with HoloPad?”

“We’re at the audit stage ma’am.”

“Still?”

The tension in the air is palpable.

“Th-there’s been some—erm—gap in the books. They are working on fixing it right now.”

“So they’re cooking the books?”

“I-uh-I wouldn’t say—”

“Calling it something else isn’t going to change the fact that they’re cooking the books Mr.Choi. Call off the deal.”

The executives stare at each other with dumbfounded faces, hushed complaints erupting at the table.

“But ma’am…the CEO is the heir of Jun Tech…it’s not advisable to ruin our relationship with them.”

A bunch of others chime in with the same sentiment, and you have the room of men turned against you as usual.

“Is that so Mr.Choi? Do you really advise me to invest millions into a venture that can’t even provide proper financial records? All to avoid making the Jun family angry? Mind I remind you that this is a business, not a family drama?”

“It’s just—”

“And all of you who agree with Mr.Choi here…don’t think I don’t notice the new watches on your wrists. Can’t be a coincidence, can it? Everyone who wants to continue with the deal happening to buy the newest Jun Tech watches at the same time?”

Five people, including Choi, scramble to take off their watches, heads down in shame.

You let out a hollow laugh. “You all are too dumb to even be bribed properly, I can’t believe it! Anyways, I expect five letters of resignation on my desk by tomorrow morning. This is me extending my grace for all the work you’ve done in the company so far, but if you don’t voluntarily leave, I will not hesitate to disgracefully remove you.”

That’s the last thing you say before click-clacking your heels out the room, not missing the outbursts of “bitch” and various other insults blaring from the other side of the door as soon as you leave.

It’s moments like these when you just want to call your father and have him step in to help, but you can’t. You can’t be seen as a fragile little daddy’s girl in a room full of bloodthirsty businessmen. You keep your composure until you’re in the comfort of your office, where you let yourself decompress for a minute. Only a minute, though, because your receptionist is soon knocking at your door to remind you of a charity event tonight—a reminder that would’ve come from the temporary assistant if you had not fired her an hour before.

___

The charity auction seems standard, with the usual crowd flaunting off their rare pieces of art and jewelry under the guise of doing something good. You’re not in a place to judge too much, considering you’re also here doing the same thing. You are the only one who seems to see how ridiculous it all is though, for the little that’s worth.

“Y/N! Long time no see!”

You’re immediately swept up into various groups of people wanting to “catch-up” (aka keep in your good graces for their next business venture).

Yup. A typical day.

Until Kang Byung-hun approaches you with that same condescending smile he gives you at every event. He’s a short, plump man, a little bit older in age than your father, and he’s a complete pain in your ass. The not-so-subtle jabs during formal dinners, gossiping behind your back, and overall misogynistic world-view makes you want to tear out your hair every time you see him.

“Mr.Kang!” You say in the cheeriest tone, smiling wide. He’s a pain, but he’s got a lot of influence, and you’d be an idiot to dismiss that.

“Ah Y/N. I see you’ve done yourself up for this event. On the lookout for a husband, are we?”

You keep your smile through gritted teeth.

“Just looking my best for the noble cause, sir.”

“I’m sure.”

The wait staff comes around with wine at just the right time, because god knows you can’t deal with this without at least some alcohol in you.

“Oh, I actually do have some business with you. Are you down to talk in private a bit later?”

“Why wait? Let’s talk now.” You’d rather just get it over with.

“It requires some preparation. Have to make a few calls and get some things here. I was going to put on a nice presentation in your office, but now’s a good as time as any!”

“Sounds good sir.”

What you wouldn’t give to just go home, take off these uncomfortable heels, and just face-plant on your soft bed right now. But nope, you have to wait around for this jack-ass to put on his little show. As much as he dismisses you, Kang Byung-hun is no idiot when it comes to business. Whatever his newest idea is, he knows Shin Investments is the best option for financing—especially in the bad state of the market right now.

So an hour before the party is supposed to end, you get a tap on your shoulder by Kang’s assistant, and promptly follow her to one of the spare rooms at the venue. Kang sits with a glass of champagne in hand, flashing a smile that you can’t stand. You take a seat across the circular table.

“We already exchanged pleasantries earlier, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I just got the patent for a new piece of revolutionary technology, and I’d like for Shin Investments to finance the project.”

“What type of technology are we talking?”

“How aware are you with the current market for hybrids, Y/N?”

You shrug nonchalantly. Honestly, the topic of hybrids makes you uncomfortable, as you think of it as unethical to own anything even remotely human, but you keep your personal preferences to yourself.

“I know it’s a booming industry, especially in the last three years. And I know the market is big for training tech right now.”

“Precisely!” He beams. “Training technology is in high demand. You saw how much of a hit the snake hybrid calming diffuser by Pet Armor was. Sold out in minutes! Not to mention raised the demand for snake hybrids in general. That’s when I knew I had to get in on the action and expand to the hybrid market.”

“So is that what it is? Is Pet Paradise launching its own diffuser? For a different type of hybrid?”

He shakes his head, “Nope. You know how I like to do things big, Y/N. A new hybrid diffuser is too small of a scale. What we’re creating will change the hybrid market forever.” He ends with a snap of his fingers, to which his assistant takes cue.

Before you can even process what’s going on, a leashed wolf hybrid is brought into the room.

Your attention immediately goes to the bulky metal collar around his neck, filled with buttons and stats.

“Meet Jungkook, one of the hybrids we’re beta-testing on. That magnificent thing around his neck is the Obedience Collar, and it’s going to blow your mind.”

You feel sick, dinner threatening to come up your throat the sight. The boy looks no older than twenty-one, and has more fear in his eyes than you thought possible. He’s trembling, eyes trained on the floor, trying to make himself small in the big room.

“Now, it’s no secret that wolf hybrids are amongst the hardest to train, that’s why they make the perfect subjects for this,” his assistant hands you an iPad as he talks, “first, I’d like for you to watch a video of Jungkook before he started wearing the Obedience Collar.”

You reluctantly click play, seeing the wolf hybrid with so much life in his eyes. Life and anger. He’s growling and punching his way through a team of researchers, thrashing around for his dear life.

“What a violent and unsophisticated creature he used to be!”

You have to consciously unclench your fists, making sure not to show your true feelings. It’s excruciating to sit there and listen when all you want to do is see how Kang would like it if a group of strangers got their hands on him like that.

“But now, with Pet Paradise’s newest invention, he’s the most timid little thing you could own!”

“A shock collar? Hybrid shock collars are already a thing, Mr.Kang.”

Your voice shakes slightly, and you hope no one notices.

“No no, that’s not what this is. A shock collar is a good training tool, of course, but it’s not the most efficient way to train a hybrid. If you swipe on that iPad, you’ll see the design of this collar is far advanced.”

So you hold your breath and swipe.

And whatever you’re expecting, it’s worse.

This isn’t a normal collar by any means, as proven by the product shots. The inside is lined with thin needles, which you can’t see as they are quite literally jammed into Jungkook’s neck right now.

Holy fuck.

“You see, Y/N, the Obedience Collar works from the inside. The collar is supplied with our newly developed synthetic hormones, which are injected into the bloodstream through the needles. The hormones are specifically structured to work with the DNA of most mammal hybrids, and can even make something as unruly as a wolf hybrid behave. The changes take effect within fifteen minutes of collaring! There’s a little hormone pack in the back of the collar,” he motions for Jungkook to turn around, and the boy obeys instantly, showing the rectangular box in the back of the collar, “those will need to be refilled every six months—which we’ll sell separately, so the business model is more than sustainable. Isn’t this a gold mine of an opportunity?”

Keep calm Y/N. Breathe. Compose yourself.

“Very impressive stuff,” you force out, “but I’m not sure Shin Investments is the right fit for this project. Wouldn’t you want a partner more familiar with the hybrid market?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Y/N. What kind of venture capitalist is afraid of diversifying their portfolio? You can’t survive this industry if you only play in familiar territory—your grandfather and father both know this very well. Besides, I heard a rumor that the deal with Jun’s son won’t be going through. I’m sure the board members are having low morale right now…so why not appease them with an even better deal?”

You can’t stand the way he chastises you. What you can’t stand even more is that, from a business perspective, he’s making sense. You know a lucrative business when you see one, and this is definitely one of those. And as unintuitive as it seems, it’s all legal. Hybrid abuse isn’t really a thing the government concerns itself with, which is why the only real law is not to intentionally kill one, and even that is enforced loosely. There’s no rules being broken, no shady deals, just a proposal as legal as the meeting you had two days ago where a start-up pitched their new smart fridge. Except this time it’s not a smart fridge you’re discussing, it’s the life of a very scared and no doubt in pain hybrid, that’s standing less than five feet away from you.

Kang sees the gears in your head turning as you find any way to refuse this deal for a rational reason. So he starts playing his game of mind-chess once again, a game he’d mastered since before you were even born.

“Look, I’ll be frank with you. If you were any other woman, I wouldn’t even consider bringing this deal to you. Because we both know most women tend to be too emotional to do good business. But you’re not like that—hell, you’ve got more backbone than half the men at this party. So, what’s stopping you?”

There it was. The emotional card. The thing you were most concerned about, how showing even one ounce of emotion could be blown out of proportion because of your gender. You’ve worked too damn hard to create your reputation, and that’s why the next words out of your mouth spill before you can even think about it.

“You’re right, I was being too cautious. Let’s start with the proper procedures during work hours.”

Shit. He got you. Checkmate.

The man’s face erupts in the sleaziest grin possible.

“Perfect! You won’t regret this, it’s going to be big! In fact, I have one more surprise for you!”

You raise your brows, not needing anymore fucking surprises tonight.

“It’s Jungkook! He’s yours for the month!”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at that statement.

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s a token of our appreciation. You get to be the first ever person to own a hybrid with an Obedience Collar! You can see first-hand how remarkable the technology is. There’s five others from his pack that we can continue our tinkering on, so one less won’t hurt us. Don’t worry, the synthetic hormone part is fully developed, we’re just trying to make the collar look sleeker.”

It’s not uncommon nor unethical for you to be gifted prototypes. Businesses love giving you a taste of what you’re putting your money into, as a way to give you confidence in the product and maybe even open up possibilities for a bigger investment. But you’d never thought someone would give you a fucking hybrid.

You almost open your mouth to decline, saying something along the lines of not wanting the responsibility of a hybrid…but then something comes over you. You realize that declining means sending Jungkook back to the lab—and you just can’t bring yourself to do that. The damage you’re going to be doing by investing in this collar is going to be devastating as it is, no doubt making you the indirect torturer of many hybrids to come, but in some twisted sense of morality—you want to at least save the one in front of your eyes. Maybe even pretend that you have some good left in you.

“Thank you. I’d love to take him.”

___

The car ride back is silent and tense. Jungkook hasn’t said a single word, much less lifted his head to even look at you. He’s still trembling in the passenger seat. You have zero clue how to approach the situation. It’s not like you can take off the collar, as it’s a prototype with data still being transferred to the lab. You agreed to take him home to give him a better life, but you haven’t exactly thought far enough ahead as to how; judging by how scared he is right now, you know this isn’t going to be easy.

It's midnight when you reach home, and all you want to do is sleep. But you can’t yet, not until Jungkook is settled in. You lead him to a spare bedroom; it’s incredibly spacious and practically decorated for royalty, with a king-sized bed right in the center.

“This is where you’ll be staying.”

You see his head lift up for the first time, doe eyes scanning the room in disbelief.

“It’s late so we’ll talk more tomorrow, but for now sleep here. I don’t have nightclothes for you yet, so just sleep in what you’re wearing for the night. There are water bottles on the nightstand if you get thirsty. Do you need anything else before I head to bed?”

He adamantly shakes his head no, prompting you to exit. However, right as you’re about to walk out the door, you hear rumbling. More specifically, his stomach is rumbling. You turn back around.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

No response.

“If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.”

Those words seem to turn some gears in his head, as he utters his first words of the night.

“I’m hungry Miss.”

It catches you off guard how quickly he gets the words out, much different from the no-speaking rule he had enacted on himself up until now.

That’s when the realization hits you.

If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.

It sounds like a command, and that damn Obedience Collar is sure to make him comply.

You let out a defeated sigh before guiding him to the kitchen. Your cook has already called it a day, so you prepare one of the few things your tired brain can handle—frozen waffles. You toss them into a toaster, drizzle some syrup, and pile on a generous amount of whipped cream before pushing a plate in front of the awestruck boy.

“Eat up.”

With the eagerness in which he digs into the plate, you’re sure he’d be the same way without the direct command.

And that’s how your first night with Jungkook goes, with you making sure he’s fed and in his bed before heading to your own. You notice he’s trembling a little less. Baby steps.

____

A/N: If you're liking this fic, please let me know! I love and appreciate every interaction!

#bts ot7 x reader #hybrid bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #hurt/comfort #unnatural instincts

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constantinerkives · 1 year

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Unholy Matrimony, YJM // (M)

PAIRINGS: GP Demon! Yoo Jimin x fem violinist reader

WARNINGS: bl00d, demonic ritual, use of classical music as a means of summoning a demon, brief mention of religion, violinist reader, YJM is the daughter of the big man downstairs (if you get what I mean), reader's in her early thirties but she offered herself when she was twenty-three, Karina has poetic rizz, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking, mating, unprotected sex (stay safe ya'll), breeding, breeding kink, creampie, age-gap, Karina speaks IN LATIN, who are we kidding, KARINA IS THE MAIN WARNING

SYNOPSIS: It's amazing how desperation can lead from one thing to another. You crave to be recognized, to be valued. And it's selfish - but she approves. After all, it's humane - greed. And she'd be a terrible wife if she doesn't support your one-way trip to eternal damnation. But that's where she comes in, to stop it from happening and give you nothing but luxury and comfort. I guess you can say that being married to a devil isn't bad after all.

A/N: Hi guys! this is my first fic, hope you like it <3333 I've also made some modifications from the original story, hope you guys won't mind. Sorry to keep you guys waiting but I was fighting demons (lmao) for the plot of this one-shot, Happy reading <3!

WORDCOUNT: 9, 535 oops this was self-indulgent AHHAHAHA shi-

THIS IS ALL FICTITIOUS AND THEREFORE SHALL NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.

TERMS AND DEFINITIONS: Melodiam meum - means 'my melody' in Latin Dilecto - beloved in Latin Hermaphrodite - an organism having both male and female sex organs or other sexual characteristics, either abnormally or as a natural condition Brava - well done or very good. It is used to praise a female performer

It's ridiculous

The creature watches with amusement as it eyes the young lady standing alone in her spacious living room. Her silhouette is wrapped in darkness with no source of light other than the soft glow of five white candles circling her. Her face remains in the dark, veiled with desperation with a whiff of mystery.

How desperation can lead you to commit the things you thought you wouldn't do.

"Please," She whispers, "Please work,"

It inclines its head, watching as the young lady pulls out a kitchen knife. The blade glints menacingly in the dark as she positions it atop her wrist.

Do you want to do this?

And cuts her flesh, crimson dense liquid oozes out of her flesh and she directs it to-

The creature sneers. A violin. Her blood coats the strings of the instrument, and traces of her drip down to the floor as she picks up the bloody violin and begins to play a familiar piece; popular with seasoned violinists.

The Devil's Trill Sonata

You are a desperate girl...

She plays with feverish determination all while her wrist continues to bleed. The demon crosses its legs, arms crossed against its chest, and leans comfortably against the velvet settee.

That's it. Keep playing. I am no stranger to greed. Play it with your heart's desires.

Her fingers smoothly transitioned from one note to another, clean and precise. The first movement leads you to a false sense of softness and beauty, and slowly...the devil grins as the young woman slightly loses her balance. She's running out of time, running out of blood. Ah, poor soul. She hasn't even reached the second movement yet. It seems like another soul will perish for nothing. It watches with practiced dismay as the girl's body visibly pales, and she's beginning to lose her energy. She's one push away from knocking a candle and collapsing - losing her life to a meaningless offer.

After all, what the devil played was far superior to what Giuseppe Tartini had played. The creature's lips curl to a sneer. No other violinist had come close to its execution.

Then, with a stroke of luck, the girl regained her composure for some unfathomable reason. The devil blinks, surprised by the sudden change as she grounds her feet against the tiled floors pooling with her blood and strokes the strings violently; the entity's face beams with unbridled pride. The girl plays over four octaves of the note G, with her hands stretched out over three octaves. A move that the daughter of Lucifer can only execute.

Interesting

The human plays with intensity now, and the entity finds itself leaning away from the backrest of the seat, watching with phantom hawk-like eyes as the girl pours every last bit of her living minutes into its piece. For centuries, no one has executed it the same way this mere human did. Anger and envy flash in its eyes as it flicks a hand. The candles' feeble light extinguishes, all except one, and the girl weakly gasps.

The entity hastily stands up from the velvet settee and gracefully stalks toward the confused and terrified girl as she mumbles: "What? What the hell happened - did it work?"

Oh, it did pretty human.

It grabbed the candle as it willed itself to manifest a physical form. The young woman gasps as the creature grabs her by the collar of her blouse, and with its' other hand, it holds the candle next to her features. The woman lets out a pathetic yelp as she looks up only to see two rich ichor irises looking down at her with scorn, envy, and dare she adds amusement.

The demon examines her delicate features, soft brown eyes, fair skin, and a whiff of innocence that crumbles down to greed and desperation.

And fear

It's beautiful

"Have I satisfied you?" The girl meekly starts. Her voice sounds distant. She's hanging on for dear life, and the demon wanted her to fall into the pits of eternal damnation. But it begrudgingly longed for her to play it again. For no human played it as well as she.

The entity narrows its' eyes as the girl begins to lose her balance. Her knees were about to give out if it wasn't for the being holding her by the collar.

The demon leans close, and the girl's eyes visibly shake. It slowly lets go of her collar and reaches out for her cut wrist, its talons almost cutting into her skin. She gasps as she felt a searing burn crawl over her cut wrist.

"Be seeing you," It said, vowed. Before the demon drops the candle and lets go of the girl, allowing her to collapse into her pool of blood before it disappears into thin air.

Years have passed, and you are a renowned violinist of your generation. Here you stand in front of your devoted fans, playing the piece that brought you money, power, and glory in the world of music.

A small smile graces your lips as the curtains close, and the theater erupts in cheers and applause. Another successful concert lands on your plate. You return to your first stance as your posture relaxes, and you make your way backstage. Your handler, Park Sooyoung, her fair complexion glows underneath the lights. Her exquisite red dress hugs her body flawlessly as she approaches you with a wide grin and drapes her arm around your shoulder. "Another successful concert - this calls for a celebration!" She wriggles her brows, and you merely chuckle in reply.

As much as you want to, your muscles crave rest. And a drink.

With an apologetic smile, you reject your handler's offer for a celebratory dinner, promising to eat with her tomorrow, but for now, you need a night's rest.

She understands with a soft smile and gently pats your shoulder. "Of course, you deserve it after playing The Devil's Trill Sonata for almost fifteen minutes." Sooyoung chuckles. "But I'll escort you to your private drinking booth before I, too, call it a night. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," You agree, and the latter takes you to your destination and leaves you to your drink of choice, red wine. Château Lafite Rothschild.

A pleased sigh leaves your lips as you unceremoniously collapse on your seat. Tired eyes examining your surroundings, your booth is a spacious room. Walls wrapped with high-quality velvet wallpaper, expensive paintings depicting pagan Gods, the lights were the same, albeit softer to look at, and plants to give the room a bit of life.

A relaxing sight. You pour your wine and lean comfortably against your seat, your head thrown back, allowing your neck to rest whilst your right hand holds the stem of your wine glass.

That's what life's about, luxury.

And you bathed in it. You crave the beauty of wealth and luxury that your way in life has brought to you.

Just as you're basking in peace, a figure emerges from the shadows in a black blur. You didn't notice it until the atmosphere grows heavy, your skin prickling at the sensation that someone is watching you.

"Indeed, that's what life's all about. Isn't it? Basking in luxury."

"You've done well tonight, Ji Y/N." Says a feminine voice, steely, low, and churning. You snap your head towards the owner of the voice; your face turns bloodless, even at the warm glow of the light, and there sits a resplendent woman wearing a black cropped blazer; underneath it is a matching black tube and matching back trousers and heels. At the base of her slim neck is a layered gold necklace. The outfit was simple, but her features made up for it. The woman sitting before you has a fair complexion that will put the moon to shame, a sharp jaw, plump lips, luscious black hair tied neatly to a high ponytail, and a small face. Not to mention her lean stature and posture. Judging by the way she gracefully sits, she's taller than you. And just like you, she too is holding a wine glass, slim fingers, and perfectly manicured nails secure the stem of her glass.

But something's amiss. Yes, she is human, a beautiful human, and you're no stranger to all things beautiful - but something about this woman's beauty throws you off.

A trip to the uncanny - something about her doesn't match humanity at all.

She lacked warmth, not only in her eyes but her overall presence.

"Who are you?" You demanded, "What are you doing here?"

The woman's lips curl to a grin, showing you her perfect set of teeth. "You don't remember?" She asks in return, unperturbed. Your face twists to a scowl, "I asked you a question." Posture bristling with guarded animosity before you peered over her shoulder. "Security!"

The air grows heavy as the woman holds an open palm up. She is no longer smiling. "That won't be necessary." Her voice was cold and cutting, booming with authority like no other. Then, her grin returns. "Perhaps this shall jog your memory, pretty girl."

She blinks, and her cold, brown eyes change to a rich hue of gold. Menacing and distant.

"Be seeing you,"

On cue, your right wrist burns, causing you to drop your wine glass against the carpeted floor. You back away from her, standing up too hastily, and in return your seat tumbles.

"You," A sharp gasp leaves your lips. No, it's too soon. A cold, hard laugh tumbles from the latter's lips. "My," She sips her drink before gently setting it against the tabletop.

"Are you here to collect my soul?" There it is again, that meek tone. The devil inclines her head to the side, brows furrowed. "Me? Collect you? Oh. No, no. Not yet melodiam meum." You don't know what it means, but the way it rolled off her tongue made your gut churn.

"Then why are you here?" You voiced out.

She eyes you up and down. "You know, my beloved. I am offended by the turn of events." She stands up, and you instinctively back away as she circles the table and stalks toward you. Her hips swayed in a sultry manner as she did. She keeps advancing until your back is pressed against the wall, hands pressed to your sides while the raven-haired enigma delicately brushes her knuckles against your cheek. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Her proximity allows you to inhale her seductive scent. The blend of florals with amber and musk is a perfect balance of femininity and masculinity.

"For years, I watched over you. I made sure no harm came to you and only commanded success to fall into your plate. I blessed you with concert after concert - and I know your love for all things beautiful." The devil purrs.

"So I made myself beautiful for you, dilecto."

Not a single lie in sight. "Who are you?"

"Karina," She replies, "My name is Karina Yoo." The latter pauses. Her gold eyes trailed down from your eyes to your lips.

"Do remember that, my bride. I will walk the earth with you until your time here is due. And the world will know me as your companion, your spouse."

And your vision turns black.

You woke with a groan, your head throbs with pain, and you shift in your bed. The white sheets cling onto your skin as you lay on your side, the sun peeking through your curtains, blessing your suite with its light. You stare up at the ceiling, rubbing the sleep of your eyes, and as you regain your awareness. Well, so are your memories of last night.

Your body quickly turns cold, and you sit up, muscles aching in protest, but you ignore it as you check yourself. You are wearing your sleepwear as opposed to the form-fitting dress you wore for the concert last night. Nothing else seems to be wrong except for the fact that you did not change your dress last night. Who brought you to your suite, then? It couldn't be Sooyoung. She went on her way first.

"You're awake," Says a familiar, cold voice.

The hairs at the back of your neck rise.

Slowly, you turn your head to the tall figure leaning against the doorway to your lounging area. Karina, as she calls herself, is no longer wearing her black suit. Instead, she's wearing a white button-up shirt, black trousers that reach three inches above her ankles, and black oxfords. Her rich, black hair cascaded freely like a black waterfall.

"Karina," You rasped, and the devil's lips curled to a smile. "You remembered."

You press your back against the headboard, posture brustling with animosity as your hands' fists the sheets. "What did you do to me?"

The latter frowns, "I did nothing, pretty girl. I merely allowed your body to rest for tonight before-"

"Before what?" You cut her off breathlessly as your forehead begins to sweat, and your body becomes warm with each passing second - soon, your body is veiled by a thin sheen of sweat, making you uncomfortable as you throw the duvet away from your feverish body.

Your stomach churns harshly, and your eyes sting as you fall onto your side, hands clutching your stomach as you look at the entity standing at the foot of your bed, eyes studying your writhing figure.

"What did you do to me?" You sob as the pain doubles, fiery, almost.

Karina's features break to a knowing smile as if she had seen this before and approaches the side of your bed, the mattress dips at her weight and reaches a pale, slender hand towards you, and you find yourself not moving, too feverish, so you let her touch you. And her touch was soothing.

"Shhh," The raven-haired enigma coaxes, "Your body is reacting to its new owner. Best to let me handle this, Y/N."

New owner?

You couldn't process anything, distracted by her touch soothes your hot skin as you slowly relax into the sheets. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as the pain ebbs away.

"Easy does it," She remarks, "Are you feeling better now, delicto?"

"Yes," You reply curtly as you eye her warily. "Wonderful," She gracefully stands from your bed, "Now rest. I'm sure you have questions for me once you recover."

"No," You protest, and her gaze turns sharp, making you shrink in your bed as she tilts her head. "No? What do you mean no?"

"I have a meeting with a sponsor," You stammer under her piercing gaze. The latter pauses, "You have plenty of time to prepare, rest. I'll take care of it."

"Take care of what?"

She flashed her bright golden eyes at you, and once again, your vision turns black. Three hours later, a scandal broke out.

Italy is known for its warm, Mediterranean climate. Summers are always hot, sunny, and dry.

But no amount of summer dresses can protect you from the cold, piercing gaze of your handler who sits across you in a cafe with her arms crossed and her expression blank.

After Karina took care of your meeting with a sponsor, word got out fast and a controversy broke out with your fans shocked at the fact that you are married. Hence the meeting with your handler, who also knew nothing of the situation.

"So," She begins, "You're married?"

You tried not to cringe as you looked at Karina; who was sitting beside you, drinking her espresso with gusto. She wore a black coat with red lapels, a black turtle neck, trousers, and heels.

"Yes," She replies as she sets down her mug. Sooyoung slowly turns to your 'wife' before looking at you. "And since when were you two married?"

"Seven years," Karina smoothly replies. You two shared a glance. Seven years ago, you offered your soul to her.

"And how come I only knew about this after Mrs. Yoo talked to your sponsor?"

"I wasn't feeling well," You wince, "I told my wife-" This coming off from your tongue is a foreign sensation. "That it can wait, but she insisted."

"Y/N was bone-tired last night." Karina adds, "I'd be a terrible wife if I insist that she gets out of the house to speak to the sponsor, so I took it upon myself to go." You softly cleared your throat, "How did the public react to this?"

"They've seen Karina's photos." Sooyoung leans against her seat, "They approve of her." A wry smile graced her lips, "That adds your wife to their list of 'celebrity crushes' I believe."

You repressed a sigh of relief, "That's good news."

"Don't be too relieved yet," She massages her temples, "You have yet to address this at your conference. I'll have your script ready, and of course, your wife has to follow it as well." She turns to look at the devil disguised as your wife. "Is that okay with you?"

Karina grins and suddenly interlocks her hand with yours. The sudden action surprises you, and she flashes you a look. Your lips form a practiced smile, and you duck your head as if you are flustered.

"Yes, I'm fine with it. So long as this keeps my wife happy."

"Good, the conference starts at 2 PM sharp. Let's get you both ready before then."

Addressing your marriage to the public was easy. The press loved ogling at your 'wife'. You can't blame them though she looked ethereal in her outfit; a form-fitting black, high-neck dress and a black blazer draped over her shoulders, and her hair was freely cascading down to her breasts with diamond earrings as her accessories while you wore white dress. Both of you looked exquisite during the conference, and you didn't forget the way the reporters begin talking all at once upon announcing your next concert and the piece you'll be laying next.

The Last Rose Of Summer by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst.

Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst is not the biggest name in classical music, but his ‘The Last Rose Of Summer’ is notorious among violinists for being a complete nightmare to play. Ernst was an obsessive devotee of Paganini, the original violin rockstar, and he loved to include stupidly complex pizzicato in his music. Karina's soft lips curl to a smirk as she ends the event by taking your hand in hers. You eye her cautiously. This wasn't part of the script?

Still, she raises your hand and brings it to her soft, warm lips, pecking the back of your palm. Your cheeks warmed as the cameras flashed. Your spouse looks at the press and flashes them a jaw-dropping smile. "We'll get going now. May you all have a nice afternoon." Without another word, she leads you down from the stage and to the exit, where a sleek black car awaits the both of you.

"Take us back to the hotel, please." You told the driver. The man nods and was about to close the partition before Karina speaks up. "Take us to Ratanà, Mr. Giovani. I'll treat my wife to a nice meal after the conference."

"Very well, Mrs. Yoo." The driver replies with a thick accent before finally closing the partition. You glare at the latter while she leans comfortably against the leather cushion and looks at you. Karina arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Why the surly look, wife?"

"What are you going to do in a restaurant?" You snap at her. Karina guffaws in amusement.

"I'd like to see how the world changed after centuries." She simply answers. "I'd like to see more of the world with my two eyes."

A huff leaves your lips as you turn away from her and cross your arms against your chest. "You still have some explaining to do."

"Which is why a restaurant is a perfect place for it."

"People will hear you."

"I've booked us a private booth." You snapped your head towards her, "You did what?"

"I won't repeat myself, beloved." She chuckles, "As you've said, I owe you an explanation.

The people inside Ratanà gawked at the two of you as soon as you entered the restaurant. The clattering of plates and utensils stopped as well. You flush at the reaction while your wife places her hand on the small of your back. Even with your dress, you can't help but shudder at the contact as she flashes the crowd a charming smile before leading you to your private booth with a female waiter stationed outside your door.

"We'll order later," Karina's smooth velvet voice coaxed the woman into an agreement before finally entering the private booth.

She pulls out the chair for you to sit on, and you begrudgingly obey as she sits across you. Silence permeated the air. Gone is her alluring aura, replaced by enigma. As if all of it was an act - it is.

"Where to begin, where to begin." She mused wryly.

"Why are you here if not to claim my soul, then?" You snap, "Why waste your time tagging along?"

Karina tilts her head. Her intelligent eyes regarded you.

"Well," She begins with a distant smile. "I visited you every two years, watching from afar while you amassed your concerts just to see how your talent has bloomed."

You wait for her to explain further, "I'll be frank, darling." Your gut churns at the endearment. "Throwing you into the pits of hell after your time is done is nothing but an exercise of futility, a talent like yours deserves to have a place next to mine."

Your brows furrow, "Next to yours?"

Her lips curled, "Why do you think you offered your soul to me out of all the demons out there?"

You replied with silence, and Karina narrowed her eyes in disapproval. "Something tells me that you didn't gather the slightest bit of information about who I am, delicto." She leaned away from the backrest of her seat and interlaced her fingers together. "Tell me, do you know who I am?"

"A devil who named herself Karina Yoo."

A scoff befalls her lips, "Foolish girl, you're lucky to have offered your soul to me."

"Why?" You snarked, "If I'm so lucky, why?"

Her eyes flashed, "My father," She hisses through gritted teeth, "Is the angel of music. Lucifer was the angel of music. After his fall, he reigned in Hell and has simply lost interest in that title." Her expression darkens, "Which is why I took that spot while I helped humanity discover it with my profound ability that I inherited from him."

Your eyes subtly widen, "Yes," She growled.

"You're sitting with the daughter of Lucifer. His finest creation, second to music." Her eyes glowed to cruel gold. "And you tied yourself to me, Ji Y/N. You offered your body and soul to me. That makes you mine as I am yours."

Something's not right. Why is there an indirect statement of equality?

As if reading your mind, she addresses it with a softer tone.

"As I've said, my beloved: leaving you to burn in hell would be a waste. I have taste in talent just as much as you have taste for beautiful things. In my millennium of harvesting souls, I am nothing but a sponsor to those who offer themselves to me. I will keep you. I've decided to keep you after hearing you play all these years. And I confess that I envy your ability, albeit you're human. I am still superior to you on all levels, but when it comes to music, we are equals."

"So that makes me your actual wife, then?" You squeaked. Karina lets out a rumbling chuckle, "Oh, yes, darling." You hold her gaze, and this time, it's intense.

"That makes you mine as I am yours." She husked, her eyes tracing your features possessively. "So if you had any lovers or flavors of the day, forget about them."

"So possessive," You remark shakily, and the latter lets out a wolfish grin. "I am a demanding creature, Y/N." She then leans away from you. "We can order now. After this, we can return to the hotel, and you can start practicing the piece you'll perform at your concert next month. The earlier you master it, the better. And I will help you along the way."

She's right, of course, but you wouldn't admit it to her face.

"Alright, call in the waitress."

Your routine is divided from going out with your wife to practicing until your fingers go numb.

The Last Rose Of Summer by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst was the last of his Six Polyphonic Studies for solo violin. It is a set of incredibly difficult variations for the violin. The first few weeks were nothing but agony as you practiced in a private setting, preferably away from the devil of music.

For days, it's either you couldn't transition smoothly to another note, or you struck a wrong chord. Either way, it's still a mistake.

This complex set—full of every imaginable and unimaginable technical difficulty—includes an introduction, theme, four variations, and a devilish finale. At first glance, an impossible task. This one requires both physical and mental fortitude. And each mistake drains it out of you.

"Jeez," Sooyoung hisses as soon as she sets foot into the room. "Y/N, get yourself off the floor and sit on the couch, will you?"

A tired groan leaves your lips as you force yourself to get up. Your muscles ached in protest as a result of standing for hours.

"You know what," Sooyoung sighs as soon as you unceremoniously plop on the couch. "How about we call your wife, hm?"

"No," You sigh as your tired mind thinks of a lie. "She's busy."

"Busy doing what?" Shit

"Managing her family's financial reports." Yeah, that should do it.

"Don't be ridiculous," The latter admonishes, "Your wife is never too busy for you. I'll call her."

"Sooyoung no-" Too late, she had dialed her number, and you tuned out their conversation. "She says she's on her way." Your handler informs you as soon as she drops the call, "See, I told you she isn't too busy when it comes to you."

"Whatever," You mumble as you close your eyes to get a few minutes rest.

By the time Karina made her presence known, it was already evening. You scowl at her as you groggily sit up. "What took you so long?"

"You looked peaceful," She snorts, "And besides, you're more tolerable when you're not scowling at me all the time."

"What time is it?"

The devil checks her watch. She bought it a few days ago from Bulgari. "6:37 PM, why?"

"Shit, that's late."

"You needed rest," She reminds you as she sits next to you. You lean away, taken aback by her proximity as she looks down at your fingers, "And your fingers were turning purple. You practiced for quite some time and ignored your body's protests for rest. Hence why you collapsed next to this couch."

How did she-

"Sooyoung told me," She answers. "Why force your body to such limits?"

You rolled your eyes, "You sound like my wife,"

"Because I am your wife," She grins, "So take care of yourself."

You blink at her. For weeks that you spent with her, the older woman did nothing but make sure you were comfortable and safe, sure there was bickering, and dare you say banter. But she performed her duties as a wife should. It's baffling, to receive this treatment from a devil of her caliber.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She questions, her eyes beaming at your attention before you tear your gaze from her. "Nothing, I'm hungry."

"Perfect," She grins, "I discovered a recipe that you might like."

Oh?

"Cooking, you?" You mused, and Karina lets out a carefree laugh. It sounded pleasant. Not that you would say that to her face. "Why yes, pretty girl." She grins, "Now come. I want you to be a witness of me cooking a dish created by humans."

She grabs you by the hand, and your pulse quickens at the contact as she leads you out of the building and to your car, a sleek, gray Bently Continental GT S. The raven-haired beauty opens the passenger door for you. You didn't say anything and entered the vehicle. She closes the door gently and enters the driver's seat, finally driving to your designated hotel.

The smell of roasted lamb chops floods the dining area of your suite. Karina said that it'll be done in a few minutes. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of the delicacy in Karina's bare palms as she places it in front of you. She dusts the lamb chops with garlic, rosemary, salt, and pepper. Your mouth waters at the meal she prepared for you while she sits across from you, eyeing your face with mirth before finally gesturing at your dinner.

"Well? Dig in."

You didn't need to be told twice and began wolfing down your food.

Karina watched you carefully as you ate with gusto before stopping midway. The older woman frowned, "What's wrong?"

You look up at her, "It's not poisoned, isn't it?"

She placed a hand over her chest in faux offense.

"Poison? You?" The raven-haired woman continues: "I would never. You must have faith in me, beloved. I would never poison a pretty girl like you."

Your cheeks change their color to a subtle hue of pink. "Faith is foreign for someone of your caliber, Karina."

"Trust me," She grins, "We're more direct than your trusted angels, beloved."

A hum leaves your lips as you continue to eat. Karina once again watches you before you pause for the second time. "Aren't you hungry?"

"We have a different diet from you humans. Souls, that's what we feed on, your intense emotions, energies."

"Are you feeding from me right now?"

The latter replies with an unbridled smirk, "I am, but at least we're both benefitting."

"Fair enough," You shrug before finishing your dinner.

"Are you having a difficult time practicing your piece?" She asks after you've finished your dinner. A pause, "Yes, but I'll get better."

"Not very reassuring, delicto." She replies as she interlocks her fingers, her expression serious. "Your concert is in three weeks, and your piece has four sections."

"Then what can we do about it?"

"I can help you." Karina offers - no, states. "It'll be quick, and you will save time."

You arched a brow, "By what, cutting my wrist and pouring it over my violin?"

The devil guffaws at your snarky reply, "No, no. You perform. I will proctor your performance and give you feedback accordingly."

You contemplated her offer. It's not that big of a deal. Perhaps guidance from a devil of music could save you time. "Alright," You rub your palms together. "Perfect," She purrs.

"When can we start?"

"Tomorrow," Karina checks her watch, "We'll start after lunch. Is that okay with you?"

You have nothing to do anyways, "Fine by me."

"You missed a note," She looks up from her book. "Again, from the top."

You bite your inner cheek and return to your second stance before slowly stroking the strings. Minutes later, she stops you again.

"Your timing is off."

"Don't I know," You grunt as you return to your first position and begin again.

Hours turn into days. While yes, having Karina monitor your performance saves time, you can't help but feel your patience waning whenever she stops your performance.

"Again,"

"I didn't even miss the note!" You asserted. Karina closes her book and looks at you. You stop yourself from saying more as your bones ache from standing for two hours.

She lets out a hum, a tone that holds no consequence of your assertion.

"I forget that you're human." She says to herself rather than you. "But you have to keep up with me, beloved. Let's take a break. How do thirty minutes sound to you?"

"Wonderful," You groan before you sit on the floor of your lounging area.

It went on for another week with the devil being surprisingly patient with you. Even with your patience cutting short, Karina allows your jabs to fall on her with every mistake you make improves under her watchful eye.

You are forced to stop when you couldn't reach the note. "Crap," You cursed as you messed with the transition to the ending of the piece. Karina took notice of this and tilts her head, "Try to position your hand once more." She instructs, and who are you to disobey? She is your wife, your mentor. And so far, you learn quickly with the techniques she's amassed through the years.

She examines your hand before standing from her settee and moving behind you. You stiffen at her proximity as her pale hand hovers atop yours while the other grasps your waist. A soft gasp leaves your lips as she presses her front against your back. The latter smirks but resumes correcting your finger placement.

"Position your hand like this," She husked. A shudder leaves your lips as her warm breath fans the outer shell of your ear. Your skin tingles at her touch.

"There," She purrs, "Very good,"

But she doesn't let go.

She retracts your hand from the fingerboard of your violin and places it on your hips, securing you against her. "You know," She rasped, "This is by far the closest we've been." She flushed herself against yours as if she couldn't get enough, "As your wife, I've never received an embrace from you, beloved."

"If you wanted a hug," You breathily reply as you lean into her touch. Karina's lips found themselves on the exposed expanse of your neck, ghosting over your skin. "Why didn't you just ask for it?"

She chuckles deeply, and it has your guts churning. "Oh, can I ask for one now?" You balk up a response, and Karina's patience wears thin as she spins you around. Her strength forces you to face her and drop your violin and violin bow. Your eyes blew back at the cruel glow of gold in her eyes. Her black veins surface on the sides of her gorgeous face. Her skin is paler than normal. She uses one hand and grabs your hair from behind, forcing you to look up at her with a hiss.

Your eyes traverse from her eyes down to her kissable lips. Karina notices this and licks her in return. You swallow harshly at the sight.

"I can sense it, Y/N."

"Sense what?" You breathe out, and your wife sharply inhales and leans close. "Your hunger, no, not from food, but for me, beloved. I don't see the point in holding back." Her other hand traverses upwards; to your neck and gently squeezes it, eliciting a gasp from you before she uses that same hand to pull you impossibly close to her.

"Be selfish, be lustful - lose your inhibitions to me, Y/N. I am your wife, your mistress, your servant. Use me as I will use you." She leans closer to the point that your lips are almost touching, her plump lips begging to be kissed by yours.

"Sin with me, darling." Her voice distorts, "For sin is your birthright. Your faith has taught you to deny your desires and it has imprisoned you. Break your restraint. As your wife I encourage it, my love." She sighs as your hand caresses her cheek.

"I am selfish, needy, and demanding. Y/N. And you shouldn't be less than I am. Let me have you, let me spoil you some more, even with the riches that are foreign to the world of the living, allow me to embrace you - you will be my queen. Fair as the sea and the sun."

And while she pours her declaration, Karina Yoo's lips fascinated you. It sickens you all at once, but that is what seduction does to you. Her lips; were plump and inviting. Though you find her frightening at times, you can't help but feel as if you've known her before, that you are perfect for her. If you wanted something beautiful, this woman would be would give it to you. If you have an ideal type, this woman would be your ideal.

You had not known before that you wanted all these things. That you preferred dark hair and a slightly cruel expression, that you wished for tallness, or that a woman embracing you and pouring her confession might thrill you. A whole young life’s worth of slowly collected predilections coalesced in a few moments within you, and Karina Yoo, her eyes glowing with desire, becomes beautiful and perfect.

You shivered, and without thinking, you leaned in to capture her lips with yours. Not on the cheek, not chastely or unchastely, but greedily with your whole mouth. She reciprocates this, she eats your breath in the kiss, and you feel like she would swallow you whole. Your hands shamelessly claw her silk shirt from behind, crumpling the expensive fabric as the daughter of Lucifer deepens the kiss by tilting her head. Her grip on your hair tightens, and her other hand's nails dig against your hips.

Together, your lips move languidly against each other, and the world feels like it's so far away.

You two kiss until your human lungs burn for oxygen, and you push your wife away begrudgingly.

Here you two are, panting and wanting more before she chased your lips with hers. Her mouth is hot against yours. You can taste the feverish desire from her. Suddenly, she bites you. You pull away from her, hurt and surprised as you raise your hand to your mouth. Your fingers are bloody, and Karina's lips were smeared with it. Her eyes gleamed.

You balked. Your lips pulsed where your wife's long, thin canines had cut you.

If you allow her to do this to you, what else will you let her do to you?

Anything,

Karina Yoo, your wife, your mistress, your slave, wiped your crimson blood from her lips. She eyes you with hooded, glazed eyes as she licks it clean.

"Beautiful," She closes her eyes and slowly opens them before her arms circle around you greedily, and your back is suddenly pressed against the mattress of your private quarters.

Her bright eyes are predatorial as she stares down at you. She wasted no time putting her hands on your waist. Her sensual scent invades your nostrils as she presses her lips against yours. You can taste your blood on her tongue as your hands cup her jaw. Karina's tongue glides against your lower lip before breaking into your mouth; only because you let her. She swallows your moan as she slides her tongue in your mouth, and she lets out a guttural growl in reply as your skin becomes hot under her touch.

The older woman leans away and unravels your button shirt, and harshly pulls it off your body, leaving you alone with your bra. Her ichor-hued eyes visibly darken to a hue of copper before her lips attach to the column of your neck. Her hands smoothly go to your back and unclasp your bra, and haphazardly throw it somewhere in the room.

You let out a mewl when she softly bit the center of your neck, followed by a gasp when her tongue smoothens it, she pulls you into an all-consuming kiss, her hands let go of your wrists, and your hands hastily gripped her biceps as her weight doubles making you press against the mattress, her lips muffling your groans and grunts as her teeth bite your lower lip, forcing a gasp out of you and allowing her to insert her tongue inside your mouth, your grip on her tightens as your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

She pulls away for a split second, allowing you to breathe before connecting her lips with yours, her hips bucking and thrusting against your clothed core, making you moan into her mouth as lust ignites between your legs. You tilted your head to meet her kiss as your legs circled her waist.

Karina groans, and she thrusts her hips against yours. You feel something poking against your clothed core. It's hard, and it feels good.

As if sensing your curiosity, Karina chuckles deeply. "We're hermaphrodite beings, beloved. I can pleasure you as a man, or woman, or both." She breathes against your lips. "Which do you prefer?"

"You," You mewl as she kisses your neck. "I want what you are right now, even forever."

The latter grins and bites into your neck, eliciting a yelp from you as she traverses her kiss downwards until she reaches the waistband of your pajamas. Karina's lips curl to a smirk, her hands latching onto the fabric of your pants before she effortlessly rips it and throws the torn fabric away. Your eyes widen while hers light up in amusement as she licks her upper teeth.

"Relax," She purrs as her finger hooks the hem of your panties and yanks down. Your cunt flutters at the exposure, toes curling with anticipation as your wife dips down, her tongue takes a bold lick on the seam of your pussy and shuddering when she retracts and swallows.

"Divine," She darkly grins as her hands pry your thighs to spread and latch onto your folds, eliciting a yelp from you as her tongue breaches your walls. You throw your head back when the warm, wet muscle begins to messily move in circles. Your arousal drips down the seams as she alternates from sucking and circling, eyes closing shut as carnal desire begins to take over the both of you. "Karina," You softly moan, "Fuck, so good - more, give me-"

She cuts you off with a growl, sending vibrations against your cunt. The sensation has your eyes rolling back as her tongue thrusts in and out. You plant your feet against the mattress and buck your hips against her face. "Fuck!"

Karina grunts and bites your clit, this sends white-hot pleasure through your body with carnal rapture seeping inside you as the woman withdraws. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" Des[ote your flustered state, your cheeks reddens. Karina hums and licks her lips which are covered in your arousal and her spit. "Let's try that again, yeah?"

She didn't let you reply and connected her mouth to your folds. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as heat bubbles within your body. You bristle in lust as the woman kept lapping your juices, her tongue working hard on sucking and thrusting inside your core, the obscene sounds were enough to lubricate you, your hand takes a purchase of her hair, tugging on it as moans and mewls befall your lips, evidently pleasing the woman who in turn moaned at the taste, doubling the sensation as she bites your clit again.

Your back arched as does this again and again. Triggering a bundle of nerves. "Karina," You whimper, and you can feel her smirk as she finally decided to have mercy on you, her teeth retracting from your clit and deciding to continue back to eating your out, both your juices and her saliva drip down from your ass to the sheets as she continues to ravage you.

And when her tongue manages to find a spongey spot, she immediately flicks it. Her ministrations made you see stars, hips jolting and accidentally grazing your clit against her teeth, making her moan while eliciting a pleasured cry from you. Walls clenching against her tongue, the woman in between your legs is determined to finish you off as her teeth keep biting your clit; helping her stimulate your orgasm as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, back arching and sweat dripping off every pore as your undoing hits you, knocking your breath out of your lungs.

The woman groaned at your nectar, lapping it up until you were whimpering, thighs shaking, and hands trying to pry away her head.

Karina decided to have mercy on your state and pull away with cum-smeared lips that formed into a smug smirk.

Despite your blurred vision, you can see your wife resting her head on the side of your thigh, kissing the expanse of skin before trailing up to your lower abdomen, giving it a soft kiss and mumbling something incoherent before kissing her way up to your lips, her body looming above you her hands trapping your sides as her lips mold with yours, giving you a taste of yourself as your hands caress her upper body, fingers working on with the buttons and belt of her suit to touch her bare, dewy skin.

Karina made it easier for you by snapping her fingers; she is just as bare as you.

Your eyes shamelessly trail down her body. Karina's body is lithe, though her biceps are slightly defined, so are her collarbones, her toned stomach, and...

Your eyes trail lower, and your core throbs with excitement.

So this is what a hermaphrodite being looks like.

Or maybe, that's just Karina adjusting for you. Either way; you'll take her as she is.

The latter grabs your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with her.

"Let's see," She rasped, "Just how much you can take from me, pretty mortal."

Her body is never far away from yours, always flushed as her lips wrap around the exposed skin she finds. Your hands grabbed her strong back helplessly as she lodged her cock deep within you, veins rubbing and drilling with vigor while you moaned beneath her. "Fuck," She breathed, pulling out before thrusting back in, eliciting a gasp from you as she fucks you with abandon.

Her talons clawed the sheets, eyes screwing shut with every pound.

"Fuck, beloved." Karina softly moans as she drills deeper into you. The force behind her thrust pushes you upward, and she had to lock her arms around you to keep you from leaving her.

Your lips bite her shoulder to muffle a scream when she hits a spongey area. You heard Karina groan softly when your wall clenched greedily, hips snapping back and forth, your stomach coils, your skin burning with carnal want as your legs lock around her waist, ankles pressed against each other as her essence leaks from your abused cunt to the sheets after going at it for hours. The older woman felt her balls tighten, and her cock swelled as she pressed her forehead against yours, mewling as your release made your walls feel tight. You smell the mix of perfume, sweat, and sex from your bodies as her thrusts get sloppier and shallow to the point that she isn't pulling out anymore, her hips pistoning the same vulnerable spot that she had to muffle your strained moans with an ardent kiss as Karina stills her hips, thick spurts of cum painting your walls; you can only whimper; cunt accepting what she has to offer as this also triggers your orgasm, unannounced.

Karina pressed a kiss against your clammy temple, your walls convulsing, clenching around her incessantly.

Your hair is tousled and unruly, and your neck and collarbones were covered in her marks. The woman above you growls and sets her speed, her warm, thick cock drilling in and out in carnal want, ichor-hued eyes veiled with devouring lust as she throws her head back when you willfully clench your walls around her. Your lips chased her neck, nipping her Adam's apple, and she slightly falters. You can see the veins prominently bulging from her neck, beads of sweat running down her beautiful skin, and her sharp jaw on display for you. You drink in the sight as you pull her back to you, her wet hair sliding back, her kissable lips twitching to a smirk, gasping and whining with every clench of your needy cunt.

The raven-haired beauty presses you harder against the bed, her weight doubling as she flushes her body against yours, her dick pistoning in and out of you, raw. Her pace bristles with an animalistic drive, her breath fans your lips, and grunts and hush moans break past her lips with every pound.

"Are you close?" She couldn't control the distortion of her voice while you shamelessly raked your nails against her back. "Fuck," You mewled, "Yes - close."

The daughter of Lucifer mouths your cheek, mapping your features with her mouth as her toned stomach flexes. Your thighs burn with every pound and tears trail down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you choke a sob. The latter groans and withdraws her cock until only the tip remains and slams back in. You dig your nails harder, leaving crescent shapes and red vertical lines along her back to the point that you're aware of how much that would be painful for her.

"Harder,"

You briefly pull away to lock eyes with her, the obscene sounds of skin slapping reverberate in your room, and she looks at you with a small smile. "Use me," She pecks your lips softly, "As I am using you."

And who are you to refuse?

You hide your face against the column of her neck as the appendage kisses your cervix, and she does this again, and again, and again. She fucks you harder on your mattress, deeper, and you are on the verge of letting go. "Don't hold back," She moans.

Her cock twitches inside you, her hands move to the sheets, crumpling it as if her life depended on it while she fucks you carelessly, and your body heats up.

You bite down on her neck, muffling a scream as you cum, and milk her cock dry, legs trembling like a leaf, and your vision blackens. Karina sighs in pleasure as her cock savors your nectar. She bites the juncture of your neck and keeps fucking you through your orgasm.

And finally, she lets out a high-pitched moan and cums. She stills her hips and hides her head in the crook of your neck that's littered with marks. Her cock spurted out thick warm spurts of her seed, her soft lips kissing the side of your neck, your hand circled on her hip while the other one held her nape, both of you panting for breath.

After a minute of silence, she looks up at you. "Can you do one more?"

You nod mindlessly. Of course, one more always meant more than what you thought Karina said.

Because even as a devil, a daughter of Lucifer; she took you to heaven's door multiple times.

You knew that once she had a taste of you she'd never stop.

Karina...that woman is insatiable.

And of course, you'd let her do anything to you.

A moan leaves your lips, only to be silenced by her hand clamping over your mouth.

You'd let her fuck you an hour before your concert.

The devil looms over your face, the light shielding the smirk on her lips while she fucks you against the sectional couch. The raven-haired beauty moves her hips languidly against yours. Her pace is desperate and strong and you claw her Brioni suit that you bought for her two days before your concert. Her pants pooled her ankles, while you're still wearing your bathrobe, or rather what's left of it. How did this start? You just finished taking a bath and walked past your 'wife' who's already done preparing. She said you smelled good. Bullshit.

"Do you want me to go faster?" She asks, mockery evident in her tone. "Fuck - yes!" You choked a gasp as she jogs her hips firmly, and you let your head fall against the couch chanting: Yes, and fuck, your pussy clenches in gratification eliciting a moan from Karina as she licks a line from your neck to your ear.

"Is that better?" She husked, and you moaned again in reply. The devil growls and sets her speed, her used, hard cock drilling in and out of you in carnal want, her blown, brown eyes flashing gold and veiled with lust. She throws her head back to move her hair that's sticking against her sweaty face. Sweat runs down her pale skin, her sharp jawline in display for you. You drink in the sight - like a lewd statue exclusive to you. Not to mention the suit that compliments her lean form, her hair wet and slid back, soft lips twitching to a gasp, chuckle, and groan with every clench of your needy cunt.

You lean up to capture her neck with your lips, tongue licking her Adam's apple before biting it. Karina moans loudly, and you peck her for it before she turns it into a tongue-dancing session. Karina's hands cup your face and press you harder against the couch. Her weight doubles as she flushes her body against yours, her veiny cock pistoning in and out of you, her pace bristling with an animalistic drive, breath fanning your lips.

Karina maps your features with her eyes before she brushes a familiar spot that have you rolling your eyes in return. Her stomach flexes, your thighs burn from her ramming, and tears trail down your cheeks. You're thankful you haven't put any makeup or skincare on for it. Karina gasps, the sight enticing her, and she momentarily stops thrusting. The devil pulls out eliciting a breathy whimper from you as you pull her close, head shaking sideways as your eyes begged her not to pull away. Karina slams back in. You screw your eyes shut as she abuses the spot again. A vicious grin graces her lips as she fucks you harder, deeper in your fitting room with her other hand clamping over your mouth.

You've reached your limit.

You bite her hand to muffle a scream as the strong wave of your orgasm hits you. Karina bites your shoulder, pointed teeth piercing your skin as you milk her dry, your legs shaking like a leaf, and your vision blackens - your energy drains and your skin is covered in a thick veil of sweat.

"That's it," She groans as she cums inside you. Warm, goopy, and generous. She lays on top of you, her arms snaking on your hips while you caress the back of her hair.

While you're fucked out, the latter seems to bask in the afterglow of fucking. Her golden eyes examine your state before grinning and pressing a kiss on your clammy forehead. "Rest," She gently commands with a soft voice, "I'll fix you up later, okay?"

You swallow harshly, throat dry. "Fix me later or fuck me later minutes before the concert starts?"

Karina's chest rumbles with a chuckle, "The former, though I wouldn't mind fucking all night after the concert."

You groan in reply, and she laughs, "I'm serious, beloved. Rest and I'll take good care of you."

To master 'The Last Rose of Summer' is an ambition for most violinists, and with the devil of music as your wife, success never tasted so good before as you have the audience at the palm of your hand.

The spotlight at your divine figure, at your hands that transitioned from one note to another with angelic grace.

Your eyes are locked with the devil in the front-row seat of Teatro Alla Scala, one of the most famous theatres in the world. It was built in the late 18th Century to plans made by the architect Giuseppe Piermarini, at the request of Empress Maria Theresa of Austria. A range of operas, classical concerts, and ballets are performed during the theatre season, which is one of the most important appointments in the Milanese social calendar.

Karina sat there crossed-legged with a smile, wearing her navy blue, double-breasted wool Plume suit, and trousers, inside, she wore a white turtle neck, and her hair is neatly combed and slid back. Her black hair cascades beautifully for you to see as she watches you with pride and acknowledgment.

You couldn't help but mirror her smile.

Something has changed within you, you can't help but glow at the fact that you've brought back a long-neglected virtuoso piece, creating a performance of pure musical delight.

Your body feels like it's on fire. You didn't care to fathom at all as you basked in the attention.

Yes, be selfish, be cruel, my beloved shouldn't be lesser than I

And as you brought the audience to an explosive end, while everyone else applauded, your eyes were only trained on your wife who stands up, amongst the cheers and howls of the crowd, it was only her voice that gave you clarity.

"Brava," She commends with distortion that no one else seems to hear. No one but you. She spoke again in another language, and this time, you understood it.

"Omnis, surge et accipe sponsam meam et aequalem meam. Aperi portas inferi novae reginae tuae; Ji Y/N."

Everyone, arise and welcome my bride and my equal. Open the gates of Hell for your new princess; Ji Y/N.

Fin.

Thoughts? Oh and if you have requests, feel free to flood my ask box skksks

#karina #karina x reader #karina aespa #aespa x reader #yu jimin #aespa smut #karina smut #wlw post #kpop girls #kpop smut #kpop oneshots #kpop idols #fem reader #gxg smut #gxg imagine

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httpisaoki · 7 months

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DANCES IN THE STARS,

idol! yu jimin x 6th member of le sserafim! reader smau

synopsis. as music bank season is coming back, le sserafim’s mo yn gets partnered up to mc with jang wonyoung, the korean it girl. slowly, the news of their partnership gets revealed and fans go crazy about the girls’ chemistry with each other, until, karina decides to post the dance cover of her and yn out of jealousy which stirs up chaos not only within the fanbase but to her and yn’s relationship.

pairings. idol! yu jimin x 6th member of le ssera! reader, slight! wonyoung x reader, platonic! aeri x reader, yeonbin, ryeji, sunoo x jungwon,

ft idols. soobin (txt), heuning kai (txt), yeonjun (txt), le sserafim, ive, sunoo (enyphen), jake (enyphen), chaeryoung (itzy), ryujin (itzy), aespa, anton lee (as readers younger brother, riize), stray kids

tags. idol au; fluff; crack; wlw; friends to lovers, smau

taglist (open). @noascats @huhyunjinwifey @rinapomu @pandafuriosa60 @yoontoonwhs @haerinkisser @mightymyo @haechansbbg @winieter @awkwardtoafault @flolio @jeongggiiiee @dutifullyannoyingfox

update schedule. whenever i can :), just to warn readers bcs this might be posted in 23821 years

status. on hold

disclaimer. these stories are purely fictional. they do not reflect any of the names mentioned. the names mentioned have no involvement with the fiction being told.

warnings. Inappropriate language; kys/kms jokes; suggestive jokes; more to be added

PROFILES ! fimmies kwangays (mains)

001. holy shi..

002. mc?!

003. real news

#kpop smau #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #aespa smau #le sserafim 6th member #le sserafim smau #le sserafim x reader #wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #idol au #social media au #kpop x reader #dances in the stars

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wildestdreamsblog · 11 months

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Latibule III

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: posting this on Father’s day because Mr. Min Yoongi is a daddy 😝

Masterlist, Latibule II

“The renowned Chief of Police, Min Yoongi, who had been missing for a month is now officially assumed to be dead. The Police Department announced on Friday that the memorial would be held a month from now,” the reporter announced with solemn voice as the news shifted to several official photographs of him in his uniform. Damn, he did look good, he thought.

“The whole country mourns the loss of the heroic man who never shied away from danger. He is indeed the loss of our country as thousands of citizens offered flowers and lighted candles in front of the Department,” the view shifted from the reporter to the video footage of the mourning citizens. The front of the Department was indeed filled with mourners, and Yoongi almost smiled. He really almost did if not for Jimin crying dramatically in the middle of the mourners, wearing his formal police uniform as though he was really dead. He thought that Jimin really had a flair for the dramatics. He was laying it thick on the acting, he noted, wailing hard enough to trigger the tears of the other mourners. It would be hilarious, and he would admit he almost laughed if not for the tall man that was caught by the camera for a second. He was standing on the far side of the mourners, unmoving as his eyes were trained on the makeshift memorial in front of the Police Department. He had his hands in his pockets, his face hidden by a black cap. He looked almost nonchalant had it not been for the tension in his broad shoulders.

Min Yoongi only saw him for a second. But one second was enough. He could recognized that man anywhere. One side of his lips lifted, his eyes glinting with something akin to wickedness. With nonchalant movement, he leaned back on the sofa, his legs spread out. In the darkness of the night, only the light from the television illuminated the evilness in his face.

So, he thought, his hyung knew of his death. Interesting.

You were a morning person. Really, you were. You didn’t open your eyes and frowned, unlike your housemate-turned-fake-fiancée, also known as your nuisance. You didn’t get up and decide to terrorize everyone with your dark energy, unlike well…him. You didn’t wake up one day and decided to glare at everyone until you had your coffee…far from the man you had unwillingly adopted.

Wasn’t he too old to be adopted for heaven’s sake, you thought.

You loved mornings, truly you did. You loved opening your eyes and seeing the lights seeping through the sheer curtains. You loved waking up to the sound of birds chirping as they rested on your window sill, unlike Suga who was doing his very best to shoo the birds away from the living room’s window with a heavy frown on his face. You loved mornings and how they represented another day, how they represented hope.

In fact, you loved morning so much that you were up and showering before the sun even shone. You knew he was the opposite of a morning person. But really, you couldn’t categorized him because he was not an afternoon or even an evening person, evidenced by the varying bored, angry, and annoyed expressions on his face. See, you knew he wasn’t a normal person. You knew he wasn’t a morning person.

And that was exactly why you let your guard down.

You were quietly humming to yourself as you stood in front of the shower, letting the water cascade down your body. Your fingers were brushing away the bubbles from your shampoo when the door of your small bathroom opened.

Your peace suddenly gone.

Birds suddenly stopped singing.

Happiness suddenly vanished as you opened your eyes and saw him standing there with his hand on the door knob, his eyes slowly roaming your exposed body appreciatively. It was as though he didn’t want to miss even an inch with the ways his eyes dragged down your body. And then slowly, that stupid smirk returned in his face and it was only then that you woke up from your stupor. He watched you as you scampered to reach for your towel hanging outside the shower stall without even offering to help you. You were huffing under your breath, cursing him with words you did not know you could say.

Suga leaned against the door still leisurely, his hand still resting on the doorknob, an image of a man with so much time in his hand.

“Who knew you’re hiding something pleasant underneath the drab of clothes you’re so fond of wearing?” he drawled as you did your absolute best to hide your damp body with the towel, your eyes throwing daggers at me.

“Don’t you know how to fucking knock?” you hissed at the relaxed man still looking at you.

“Probably not,” he started, “Can’t say my mother was around enough to teach me good manners, though. But I will say that this has been my best decision yet.”

“And it will be your worst if you don’t stop fucking looking!”

He pouted mockingly, “But I’m your fiancé. It’s my right to-“

And then you pulled the shower head, pointed it at him, and blasted him with water. You almost smiled when you heard him cursing as he retreated outside the bathroom. “F-FUCK! Fucking stop! I’m leaving!”

It took more time than you originally wanted to prepare yourself for work and to face the world. You marched out of your room with speed you didn’t know you possessed.

“Going somewhere, angel?” Suga drawled, smiling at you before sipping from his cup of coffee. As if he didn’t do anything wrong the first instance that he woke up today.

“Yes! Away from you!” You shouted before you slammed the door. You could hear him laughing all the way as you left. As if you could escape him if he didn’t let you, he thought.

“You know, I feel like I love you more than you love me. Honestly. There is a power imbalance in this relationship. You finally called me after two weeks that is so hurtful-“

“Seokjin was there,” Yoongi cut him off before dragging a deep puff of his cigarette. “Asshole didn’t even cry.”

Jimin chuckled, his voice holding an amused tone, “He cornered me and asked me where you were. Why would he cry when he suspected you’re still alive, hyung. You know how perceptive Jin hyung is.”

“Not even a little? Damn,” Yoongi replied. Of course, he could fool anyone in this world but not him. After all, he did grow up with him. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him that you were truly gone.”

“He didn’t believe, did he? You’re a terrible actor, Park Jimin.”

He halfheartedly listened to Jimin as he dramatically told him how he went to acting school for a while because of an assignment, how he was top of his class, and how he was depressed at work because Yoongi wasn’t around to make his bleak days brighter.

All that noise and all he could think about was where the fuck you were. Yoongi raised his brow, his eyes shifting for the nth time on the road. It was already dark and you were not yet home. He didn’t know why he hated that, or why his attention was focused on the road instead of the information Jimin was now giving about the fucking traitor who would soon walked down with him to hell.

“-maimed him until he broke down and told me that their boss is also- are you ready for this, hyung? Are you ready for this?- a police officer, too. Looks like somebody’s idolizing you too much,” Jimin reported over the phone, his voice hinting an excitement at having to torture and extract information from the man. Yoongi straightened when he finally saw you walking on the dark road.

Ah, finally, he thought. You were home. He ended the call without saying goodbye to Jimin before he he put off his cigarette. He unconsciously smiled before walking to you. You looked tired, your eyes focused on your steps when you bumped on something that clearly wasn’t supposed to be there.

You were rubbing your forehead before looking up at the wall slash chest of the road hazard, also fondly called as Suga. He looked down at you with an amused gaze.

“You’re late, angel. Where have you been?”

You squinted at him. “Work. What about you? What are you doing out here, Suga? Were you waiting for me? Hmm?” You stepped closer to him as you bombed him with questions.

He stepped back, his cheeks warming up quickly before showing you his bottle. “N-no! I’m out to throw trash! Don’t be assuming-“

You glanced at the bottle with an unimpressed look on your face. “That’s an unopened bottle, sir.”

He blinked rapidly before unscrewing the cover of the water bottle and chugging the contents down as though to prove a point. You raised your eyebrows at him before shoving him the paper bag you were holding.

“What’s this?”

“A phone, asshole. It’s not brand new, but you do need a phone,” you stated casually, walking ahead of him to your house. You wouldn’t tell him that you were worried about him while you were out and working. Not even if a gun was pointed at you. Nope. He had enough ego to last twelve lifetimes. He didn’t need to know.

You missed the completely surprised look on his face. Or the fact that he was looking down at the old model of the phone in his hand with something akin to a confused awe. He knew you didn’t have a lot… and yet you chose to spend what little money you had to buy him this. Meanwhile, in his pocket was the cellphone he stole from your neighbor today.

He sighed. Guess he had to return it to your neighbor tonight.

You should be careful, he thought. He was starting to see you as something other than a means to an end.

Latibule IV

#yandere bts #bts fic #min yoongi fic #agustd fic #suga fic #bts yandere #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi yandere #min yoongi x you #mafia min yoongi #bts smut #suga x you #suga x y/n

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myobsessionsspace · 24 days

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In Just One Day

We got…

From MMA 2018 we saw the product of GCF 3J

youtube

3J Supremacy!

We saw the ‘Sea Otters’ glued to each other with their whispers, giggles, long gazes and shy smiles

youtube

We saw several instances of the sweet Jungkook taking care of his Jimin-Shi.

Thank you @wingzie

Jungkook fixing Jimin’s hair with Lee ByungHun looking on at Jikook fondly. Lee ByungHun was the male lead on ‘Our Blues’, the k-drama that Jimin and BFF Ha Sungwoon sang the OST ‘With You’ for.

Such a beautiful and precious night

💜💛

#Jikook #MMA 2018 #Jimin Fan Dance #Jimin #Jungkook #j-hope #Hobi #3J #GCF MMA 2018

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madameaug · 6 months

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Wash Day || PJM x Black Fem Reader

inspo You're hair is really soft (Pinterest)

*woman in gif is not a face claim

yn: hey baby i'm getting ready to start washing my hair. so i'll be slow to respond if you text me within the next seven hours <3

jimin: seven hours ???

jimin: wait can i help

yn: uhh sure. if you want i'm unraveling my braids now

You sat your phone down, focusing on the ombre brown box braid in your hand. It was officially fall, and it was time to take out your late summer hairstyle. You stretched this style longer than usual due to your recent visit to South Korea. You came to celebrate Jimin's birthday and spent the remaining three weeks sightseeing before returning to your country.

The once neat squares were now fuzzy and overgrown. You were excited to see this much new growth spreading across your scalp. You peeked over your phone, seeing Jimin hearted your final text message. Jimin never shied away from asking you questions about your natural hair. Of course, he knew about the versatility of black hair, but now that his girlfriend was black, he felt he could become better informed.

"Yeobo." Jimin cooed, taking off his black puffer jacket. His eyes shining with pure love, looking at you. Despite half of your hair sticking out.

Jimin bent over and laid a kiss on your lips. He sat down before you, feet crossed and tucked underneath his body. "I'm ready to be your assistant."

You demonstrated to Jimin where to cut and how to unravel your braids. Like a good student, Jimin watched you take down some braids. Watching how generous you were with the detangler, using the rat tail comb to pick at those annoying knots.

Jimin was so gentle, slowly detangling your hair. Starting from the ends of your hair as you taught him. With each crinkly track of hair that Jimin removed, more and more of your natural hair was revealed. He showered your hair with compliments, not caring about the specks of dirt or clusters of hardened gel.

Starting your natural hair journey was something always intimate to you. It was your hair. Your crown. It was a part of your identity. Whether it was short, long, kinky, or curly. It grew from your scalp and was a testament to strength. Not letting Western beauty standards strip you of the beauty you were handed down from your ancestors. And for him, Jimin, your non-black boyfriend, to engage with your natural hair. You felt connected with him on another level.

In no time, an hour to be exact, you and Jimin finished unraveling all the braids. Your afro was extended high and moved like blades of grass in the wind. Jimin sweetly called your hair cotton candy.

"Your hair is so soft. I love it in this state." He leaned back on the couch, proud of his work.

"Na ah. We still got more work to do; now we have to wash it."

No complaint left Jimin's mouth as he rolled off the couch.

"Okay, but I wanna take a picture. Your hair is so cute right now." You playfully rolled your eyes but stretched out your hair to look suitable for the picture. Knowing Jimin, he was going to make this photo be his lock screen for who knows how long. With his hands around your hips, Jimin pulled you in close. His full lips puckered, kissing your cheek. Your eyes were closed, giving the camera a beautiful smile.

Reviewing the image, Jimin laughed, seeing that your afro covered a good portion of his face. But his lips on your cheek were still evident. Clearing out your kitchen sink, you explained to Jimin how each product would help your hair. He was simply taken aback by the six bottles that were sitting on the sink.

Jimin held the faucet spout over your hair, impressed at how your hair was repelling the stream of water. Jimin counted the sixty-seconds it took for your hair to start dripping from the water.

"So this is what you mean by low-porosity?"

"Yeah, it takes a while for my hair to get wet and for my hair to dry. Well at least air dry."

You squirted the coconut-scented shampoo in your hand. Ensuring that you scratched up any dirt in your hair. The scalp massage was your favorite part of washing your hair. You reached for Jimin's hands, getting them into your hair. His hands massaging your hair, hitting all the itchy spots.

"This is so satisfying, not gonna lie." You physically relaxed into Jimin's body. Despite the slightly uncomfortable bridge position you were in. You didn't mind as you watched Jimin wash your hair. You recognized his look of determination as he gave care to each area of your scalp.

"Gimme kiss." This time, you were puckering your lips for a kiss. Jimin didn't hesitate. Since your time in Korea, you have not had the opportunity to have a 'down' day with Jimin. Either he was taking you to a new part of the country he wanted you to see. Or you were working remotely from your laptop. You weren't working odd hours due to conflicting time zones. You were finding peace in the little things, like watching Jimin breathe. Your hands traced his jawline, feeling his bare skin. Not many things if life are 'perfect', but this moment between you and Jimin would be close. You basked in the moment. Not wanting this moment to end. Not enjoying your time to end.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"Impossible." Jimin rinsed the shampoo, repeating the process with conditioner and deep conditioner. Jimin hadn't even noticed the time just flying by. He was just going along with the flow. Watching you section off your hair before blow drying it. The sections displayed an obvious contrast in the apparent 'length' of your hair. When soaking wet it was barely near your ear. Yet after being stretched by the blow dryer, it was at your collarbone.

"What do you need help with next?"

"This next part is pretty simple. I'm just gonna do five cornrows, then call it a night. You've been such a help, babe."

"Teach me how to do it." Jimin patted on the carpeted ground for you to sit in between his legs. In a matter of thirty minutes, Jimin mastered cornrows. Something that took you months, maybe even years to make them look presentable.

"Had I known you were this fast learner, I would have taught you this when we met." You looked at the five braids. You looked at the time, noticing that only four hours had passed. Jimin helped you shave off three hours of wash day.

"Glad to be of help."

I feel like I'm constantly changing my format when writing these imagines. Oh well. Life has been good lately, hope life has been good to everyone too <33

I'm def looking forward to the discourse on Golden over the next few days.

#bts x black reader #jimin x black reader #x black reader #jimin #parkjimin #kpop drabbles #bts drabble #black fem reader

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jellyfishglow · 3 months

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I know I said I was taking a break from this app, but the sheer stupidity of these people is mind-boggling.

I've just resorted to blocking and reporting people because the number of times the cult has changed their narrative is rage inducing. I can't tell if they're trying to convince themselves or if they're genuinely insane.

It makes me so angry that these people won't just let Jimin and Jungkook live. Whether they're friends or boyfriends, they clearly care about each other. I mean, Jungkook is the one who enlisted first:

He wasn't forced. He doesn't hate Jimin. Why is this so f-ing hard to believe?! I wholeheartedly believe Tae and Kook are close, I mean, Tae is over here kissing Jungkook on the neck and shi. If I saw a Jkker saying Jk hated V, I'd block them just as fast as I would block a Jm anti. Why can't the cult just agree that Jimin is dear to V as well as Jk? Because this would throw off their entire ship. Taekook only exists romantically under the guise that Jk doesn't like Jimin.

I just know the leaders of the cult are writhing at the fact that Jungkook chose to enlist first. Well, read it and weep because Jk does care deeply about Jimin. Again, they (jikook) don't have to be involved romantically, but I don't think it's to far fetched to assume they're the closest. Jungkook wanted to enlist with Jimin because he cares about him and wants to be by his side. Like wise with Jimin. That's what the buddy system is for, my goodness 🫥. I'm not trying to romanticize their bond, I'm appreciating it.

I'm just so sick of the cult and toxic "ot7's" hating on them

This topic makes me so mad I need to leave the app again 🥲

안녕히 😭😭

#kookmin #jikook #bts military service #im losing my mind #this app is messing with my brain #i just want bts to be safe #get back safely #the cult needs to be eradicated #if one more tkker blog pops up on my feed I'm gonna snap

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btsyeonu · 4 months

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👣. !!: THE WEDGE BETWEEN US ‧₊˚

↺ 💌 ࣪ ˖ ∿ author’s note , @ the initial impact of bangtan’s relationship with yeonu is a chaotic mess esp between jk and yeonu but i promise it gets better!! just bare with it and i hope you enjoy!

SUMMARY : yeonu comes out to his members after rumours spread alleging he’s trans. things seem to go well… until it doesn’t.

WORD COUNT : 2.8k words — PAIRING : kim yeonu x bts (slight focus on jk near the end)

GENRE : angst , slight comfort , more angst — WARNINGS : transphobic manager , so some transphobic comments , confused bts (at first) , ignorant & hurt jk

“What does it mean? Hyung liked to wear dresses when he was younger, right? So what? Why is everyone making such a big deal out of it?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrows furrowed and pupils lurking at an attempt to get a grasp on what he was missing.

The room is filled with thick tension. There are currently ten people situated in the meeting room of the Bighit building, including the boys’ manager and Bang Shi Hyuk himself who sits in silence, arms crossed and concentrating on nothing in particular. Yeonu doesn’t speak up to clarify.

“Why are you not speaking up?”

The manager’s voice oozes with contempt, earning the attention of seven of the eight members present. Namjoon’s eyes hold a tinge of concern that swirls with sympathy as he looks to Yeonu, aware of both sides of reality that may manifest itself in this moment. Yeonu sports a look that hints away at his struggle right now, holding himself back from tearing up, or perhaps even fully breaking down.

“Hyung,” Namjoon opts in instead, and the manager looks over at him, lip still curled in distaste. “Do we have to do the meeting like this?” He asks, starting to turn to Bang Shi Hyuk. “I mean, I get that these allegations are serious, but having so many people like this… I feel like it’s putting too much pressure on Yeonu.”

CEO Bang looks up for the first time at Namjoon’s statement. He isn’t as vexed as their manager, but at the same time, Namjoon thinks he might have simply mastered the art of masking his true emotions. The male lifts his glasses to rub his eyes, mumbling a tired agreement that hasn’t bordered on an order just yet.

“Too much pressure? He- she’s under too much pressure? We don’t even know what this thing is!” Choi Gyuin seethes, pointing at Yeonu, and it would seem that such a statement was all it would take to break the dam and have the rain falling. Yeonu’s hand slams onto the oakwood desk separating himself and his members from Bang Shi Hyuk and Gyuin standing behind him on the opposite end.

“This thing,” Yeonu growls, angry red tears burning, streaming down his face, “is any ordinary man just like you! What’s so different about you and me? Look at yourself, look at me. What’s the difference?” He asks, and his voice cracks a little, face tingeing pink in colour as he waits for a response—everyone’s eyes are on him. Namjoon’s eyes are on him, Jeongguk’s eyes are on him, and so are Yoongi’s and Seokjin’s. Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin stare at him too, entirely dumbfounded at his outburst.

What was going on? Why is everything so tensed? Why is Yeonu so heart stricken?

In the midst of Gyuin’s speechlessness, it is Yoongi that strives forward first, hand resting on Yeonu’s back as he rubs gently, unbothered at the reactions of others. This singular gesture is what snaps their manager out of his shock, teeth gritting, a baffled laugh following thereafter. “W-what’s the difference? Is he- she- whatever you are! Are you being serious?”

He asks this in a manner that tries to come off as obvious, but no one is playing into his games, not even CEO Bang. “Hyung-nim, at least you must see the problem, right? If Yeonu really turns out to be transsexual then the entire group will be put into jeopardy!” He exclaims, talking to Shi Hyuk. “I mean, this is a boy band. What would it mean if we have a transsexual in it? The rebranding will cost us a fortune, and that’s not even taking into account the uproar from fans-” and he just keeps going like this.

Talking and talking and talking, and it’s just as Yoongi opens his mouth to spit a cunning remark that someone else decides to beat him to it, shutting the whole room down with his outrage.

“Aish… just shut the fuck up, you bastard!”

It’s CEO Bang losing his composure. He has a heavy frown line stretched across his forehead and he looks up at Gyuin behind him for a brief moment before waving him away. “Get out. I don’t want to hear from you anymore.” He says simply. Even Yeonu is startled by the events unfolding. Gyuin stands there, blinking, and then he laughs, bending over to reach Shi Hyuk’s height who was sat in his seat.

“Ah, hyung-nim, I think you’re losing your cool at the wrong-”

“What did I say, huh? Have you suddenly gone deaf?” Shi Hyuk queries, turning to face Gyuin again. This time the male can quite clearly see the fury burning within his eyes as he goes to speak again. “I won’t tell you again. Get lost before I fire you right here.” He grumbles, and finally, this is enough to have Gyuin stand up straight with a polite smile, nodding.

Yoongi personally can’t help the smirk that slips itself onto his features then, seeing Gyuin glance at all of the boys with clear rage as he makes his leave. Yeonu watches after him too before turning back to Shi Hyuk.

“Yeonu-ah, be honest with me.” The elder starts, and his posture shifts, showcasing his fatigue towards this situation. “Are the rumours true? Just tell me honestly and we’ll figure it out.” He says, and surprisingly for Yeonu, his voice is gentle, almost understanding. He looks around at his members who surround him from either side, nerves now cold and chilly.

Some of them still seem confused, having grasped barely anything from the fight that had actively broken out, but when Yeonu eyes Namjoon and Yoongi specifically, their expressions seem… encouraging. Yoongi’s thumb caresses Yeonu’s upper spine before he pulls away, waiting patiently.

Yeonu wishes it was easy. Actually, he wishes he had a choice in the matter at all instead of being put under pressure like this, but as he stares at Shi Hyuk, he knows he needs to make this move. If not now, then when? Wouldn’t it be better to at least come out to some people? To the ones he can at least have a glimmer of hope that they’d accept him?

Yeonu’s eyes cast themselves down to his fingers as they splay across the edge of the table. “I…” His throat constricts, absolutely terrified. What if they didn’t accept him? What if he was kicked out of the group immediately upon coming out?

“If it makes you feel better, whatever it is, I’m not going to see you any different from the guy who tried to juggle dumplings to make a good first impression on me.” Taehyung’s deep voice reassures upon noticing Yeonu’s hesitance, and when Yeonu glances over at him, all he’s presented with is a warm boxy smile that never falters once. He’s presented with a glimpse of home.

A small, almost thankful smile of his own slips its way onto Yeonu’s face, and he sighs, trying to come to terms with himself before finally holding his head up—not completely confident, but firm enough to grasp at the straws that help him spit his next words out.

“The rumours… well, they’re true.” He says quietly, voice a little shaky, and his body is tense, stiff as a stick. He did it. “I-I’m transgender. I wasn’t- you know, I wasn’t always a boy. I wasn’t born a boy, but that doesn’t make me any less of one. That’s all.”

As he wipes his tears away, his head bows once more, and the thumping of his heart beats deafeningly deep in his ears due to the silence that follows his admittance. He doesn’t want to look up now, isn’t sure if this silence is good or bad and he honestly doesn’t know how he would cope if the outcome of this turned out to be bad.

Just a few more seconds. He tells himself, but he can feel the beginnings of bile rise in the back of his throat. Why won’t any of you say anything?

“I don’t get it.” Jeongguk’s quiet, confused, and frankly shaky voice is the first to speak up. Yeonu’s heart clenches at the hesitance in his maknae’s approach, but he tilts his head just enough in the male’s direction to show he’s listening. “Hyung, what do you mean? How can you not be born a boy? You look like a boy. You are a boy, aren’t you?” He looks at the other members, hoping to receive clarification from any one of them, but no one knows what to say.

“I am,” Yeonu starts, soft, “But my body wasn’t. I was born in the wrong body, Jeongguk-ah. I was born in the body of a woman and… that wasn’t me.”

The truth tastes bitter on his tongue, finally coming out of living in stealth to a group of guys he considers his best friends and his CEO that held the power to tip the scales of fate one way or another in his name. There’s another period of silence, and then—

“That’s okay.”

Yeonu’s head whips around to look at Taehyung who returns his gaze genuinely, showcasing words that he means. Soon, a reassuring smile presents itself on his lips and he reaches his fingers out to grasp at the sleeve of Yeonu’s top.

“You’re a guy now, right? It doesn’t matter what happened in your past or how you were born. You said you’re a guy. That’s all that matters.” He explains, and Shi Hyuk watches this interaction play out with curiosity, almost as if getting an idea of how the group dynamics may change because of this information.

It doesn’t seem to have shifted much on Taehyung’s end and Jimin, hearing Taehyung’s affirming words, also starts to speak up, adjusting himself in his seat.

“H-he’s right, Yeo. The three of us have been by each other’s sides through everything.” Jimin recalls, shuffling closer to Taehyung who is closer to Yeonu. “Soulmates until the very end. How can we let such a sacred oath be broken? No, you’re stuck with us for life.”

And like that, more and more of the members begin letting out sentiments of their own in support for Yeonu. It isn’t completely without the uncertainty of the group’s future underlying their emotions, but it’s enough to settle Yeonu’s stomach so that he can finally sit back down once again, tears pooling at his eyes.

This had been more than what he could have ever hoped for. The Bangtan he had grown to love had lent their hand out in a time of need. Yoongi shifts in his seat, leaning in to whisper something into the male’s ear.

“I’ve got a cousin who’s trans.” He reveals, avoiding eye contact as he usually does, and Yeonu’s eyes widen slightly at the news, looking over at the male. “Queer people have been amongst us since the beginning of time, but it still takes a lot of guts to come out of hiding like this. I’m proud of you, kid.”

And there he goes with the whole ‘kid’ thing… ah, Yeonu can’t help but to roll his eyes playfully, a light, choked chuckle leaving his lips. “Thanks, hyung.”

As the members discuss this newfound trust put forth by Yeonu’s revealation, Bang Shi Hyuk analyses the members, adjusting his glasses with a clearing of his throat, but as he goes to speak, another member whose voice hadn’t spoken up with a supportive sentiment does so instead, shocking surrounding parties.

“What? Why… why are we all just pretending as if this isn’t a big deal?”

Everyone’s heads turn to Jeongguk, who avoids eye contact as he tries to rein in his thoughts and feelings. No one had expected him of all people to seem so… betrayed, even sounding resentful, giving the maknae time to continue his point.

“He-he lied to us! We shouldn’t even- you were born a woman?” He asks, although it would seem the question was more so directed to himself, as if he were thinking out loud. His views have taken a complete turn, going from confused anxiety to downright denial. “That means I should call you noona. If you were born a woman-”

“I was born a baby.” Yeonu interjects sharply, already sensing where this was going, and Yoongi can’t help the small smile that slips onto his lips at the cunning remark. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to have caught his words.

“Women don’t have penises. You don’t have a penis. You can’t be a man if you don’t have a penis!” Jeongguk exclaims, dumbfounded. His emotions are all over the place; eyes blinking back tears forcefully, bottom lip quivering. “How could you- how could you do that? You lied to me! Y-you lied to us!”

Inhaling starts to become a difficult task the more Jeongguk continues his speech. Yeonu’s heart tugs and squeezes tightly, leaving an uncomfortable lump in his throat watching their youngest member break down like this, unable to comprehend so much in so little time.

“I had to.” Are the first words to come out of Yeonu’s mouth. He’s trying to be the bigger person, trying to keep his composure in check but he fails. “Things like getting changed… simple things like these come easy to you. You take it for granted, but for me? I have to take extra measures just to be safe. I had to change separately from the rest of you, I always had to be careful this exact fucking situation wouldn’t take place, Jeongguk-ah. And do you know why that is? Because people with your views aren’t very accommodating!” Yeonu vents, nostrils flaring, voice tethering on the edge of a growl. Jimin senses the male’s growing frustration, and being one of the members with the best know-how of comforting a friend in need, he’s able to slide over to Taehyung’s previous spot as said male moves out of the way.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, doesn’t let up.

“What do you gain out of pretending?! Why can’t you just be a girl if-”

“Enough.” Namjoon cuts in, a warning tone—his leader tone seeping into the conversation upon hearing the vile and ignorant comments leaving Jeongguk’s lips like a bullet train with no sign of stopping. The maknae’s eyebrows form a deep frown, looking to Namjoon and then the rest of the members before coming to the conclusion that they quite clearly saw him as the enemy and not Yeonu.

Their disapproving stares said it all, but why was he in the wrong? He wasn’t the one lying to the group for years!

“W-whatever! You shouldn’t have lied. You’re not my hyung.” He says with finality aimed at Yeonu, and before anyone is able to scold or demand an apology in Yeonu’s place, Jeongguk is already storming out of the meeting room without another word, sniffles following.

It takes him a minute to register those words—something he had never even dreamt of ever hearing in his worst nightmares had come straight out of the mouth of his only dongsaeng. Yeonu rubs his face harshly at this, head coming down to rest on the palms of his hands with thoughts ever consuming.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Namjoon grumbles, but he looks over at Seokjin with a silent plea, asking him to go check on the male. The eldest of the bunch nods once, eyes shifting to Yeonu as he stands up before leaving.

“Don’t take him too seriously, Yeonu-ah. He probably just needs time to adjust to the news.” Hoseok tries to comfort in the midst of Jimin rubbing his back. The others affirm his statement, coming together to lift the younger’s spirits.

“It’s because this is new to him. He’ll come around.” Yoongi states, having bared witness to a similar sequence of events back at home. Yeonu’s fingers tug on the roots of his hair, but he sighs. He’s just so, so tired.

“Well,” Shi Hyuk starts, earning the attention of all of the current members present, “I was going to say that everyone seemed to take this news rather well, but with Jeongguk’s outburst, I believe some steps may need to be taken or else the group is at risk of falling apart.”

It’s a logical observation from their CEO, but that doesn’t stop Yeonu’s heart from clenching with a wave of oncoming stress—he didn’t want to be the reason for his members’ careers going down the drain. That’s the last thing he could ever want.

“I’ll do something about it. I-I’ll talk to him.” Yeonu says, but he doesn’t sound particularly confident in himself. He couldn’t even keep himself composed long enough to make Jeongguk see a smidgen of sense.

Taehyung slams his hand down on the desk in front of Yeonu, looking over at him. “I’ll help.”

“I’ll help too.” Jimin declares, placing his hand on the table beside Taehyung’s. The rest of the members also join and seeing so many hands of support settled in front of him… he could probably cry for the third time that day as he also moves his hand forward, joining the circle in its entirety.

“This is to bridging a minor fork in the road of Bangtan’s journey.” Namjoon informs, and on the count of three, the boys lift their hands at once.

“To bridging a minor fork in the road of Bangtan’s journey!”

💬 — YEONU’S TAGLIST.

@anqelws , @vizianary , @kaitieskidmore97 , @sann1e

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effortandmore · 1 month

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caught looking: chapter 3 (knj x ksj)

summary: of course Seokjin has heard the rumors. most of them boil down to this: kim namjoon will get fired from the kiwoom heroes after this season is over. he’s the kbo’s youngest manager in history, one of korea’s darlings, always on every 30 under 30 list, and everyone is sure he’s about to tumble from the tower he’s built. or, namjoon is probably going to lose his job and seokjin is probably never going to make his dad proud, but they have a better shot at overcoming those two things together than they ever have alone.

pairing: seokjin x namjoon

rating: e for everyone for now but there is adult content in later chapters so no minors pls

genre: etl, fluff, eventual smut

au: baseball, specifically the kbo

warnings/tags: idk... swearing, drinking, and general sports things? some blackmail kind of and discussions of homophobia in sports. eventual smut of the gay variety.

wc: chapter- 4400

chapter summary: maybe kim namjoon isn't so bad

here are chapters one and two if you'd like them. or the whole thing is on ao3 here . as always, this is for @ugh-yoongi without whom i would not have written this, so thank you because it's been very fun

Seokjin’s favorite things to do on a Saturday night include: catching up on webtoons, playing MapleStory, watching American reality shows and wondering if the subtitles are actually real because he can’t believe people talk like that, and doing elaborate skin care routines with Hoseok while they get wine-drunk and gossip about the men Hoseok meets on the rare nights he goes out.

His least favorite thing to do is to go clubbing in Itaewon after the day has already turned into the next one, getting hit on by strangers, and wondering what all the vodka and second-hand cigarette smoke is doing to his face.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what he finds himself doing this Saturday.

After a week of losses at work, he’s managed to convince Yoongi (and, in turn, his father) to sign the second baseman they’d discussed the week before, as well as a shortstop from Samsung. They’re both small and fast. Neither of them can hit the long ball, but they get on base, and what’s better is that they can both field. He should be celebrating this victory by kicking some random teenager’s ass in Overwatch, but instead, he’s leaning against a (probably sticky) bartop in Itaewon, watching his roommate dance his worries away amidst a sea of men who all seem interested in taking him home.

Seokjin supposes being able to move one’s body like that gives Hoseok an advantage in places like this. Fortunately for him, he’s never needed to dance to pick up, although he finds himself a little jealous of his roommate’s aptitude for it. Hoseok has been taking street dancing classes since Seokjin can remember, and he’s dragged Seokjin to a few over the years, but it’s not ever really been his thing.

Saying no to Hoseok has never really been his thing, either, he realizes, or he wouldn’t be here in the sweaty, dark club, tucked in a basement on a side street.

“Hey!” A voice calls from behind him, and someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around to see someone who looks vaguely familiar. Short, muscular, with silver hair and pouty lips. He’s attractive. He’s—

“Park Jimin! You’re Kim Seokjin, right? We met last week. I work with you!”

He’s Park Jimin, trainer for the Heroes. And there have been a few times in the past where his work life has collided with his personal life, but it’s never happened so quickly before. He’s instantly a little nervous.

“Oh, hi!” Seokjin takes a quick swallow of his drink and sets it down so he can wipe the condensation off his hands. “It’s uh… I mean… I don’t usually run into people from work when I’m… out.”

Jimin laughs and it’s instantly endearing. “I see what you did,” he says. “Out. When you’re out. Because we’re at a gay club!”

Someone approaches them from the side, putting a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Sorry, my friend’s a little—Seokjin-ssi?”

Oh, shit. Because it’s not someone with their hand on Jimin’s shoulder, it’s Kim Namjoon with his hand on Jimin’s shoulder. Seokjin panics a little; he doesn’t talk to people at work about being gay, only Yoongi. For years, it’s only been Yoongi. Baseball players, baseball executives… they’re less friendly than average people about queerness. It’s just not something they talk about. But he’s here, so there’s really no question. He hates when people say things like—

“I’m just here for my friend,” Namjoon blurts out.

Jimin and Seokjin both look at him, eyebrows high and lips pursed. “Oh, come on, Namjoon,” Jimin says, “we’re all here, aren’t we?”

Namjoon looks nervous, a little pale, like he’d turn and run out the door if Jimin wasn’t staring him down. He runs a hand through his hair and gives a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry. You’re right, Jiminie. We’re all here. So…”

He’s interrupted by Hoseok, sliding up to their group, skin sweat-slicked and a little out of breath. “Hey! Introduce me to your friends, hyung,” he says breathily before taking a swig of his water bottle.

“This is Park Jimin, and this is Kim Namjoon,” Seokjin says, gesturing to his co-workers. “We work together. And this is Jung Hoseok, my roommate.”

Hoseok practically vibrates with excitement. “Kim Namjoon!” he practically yells. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Seokjin wants to evaporate. It’s not the vodka that’s making his face feel hot, he’s sure. Who lets this many people into these clubs anyway? It’s got to be a fire hazard. “Who wants a drink?” he interrupts.

Jimin is watching all of them carefully, but especially Hoseok. Seokjin wonders if there’s something going on between Namjoon and the trainer, if Jimin thinks Hoseok is interested in Namjoon, if that’s why he’s paying such close attention. It’s not a thing you ask your new co-worker, though. “Oh hey, I know I didn’t remember your name, but are you dating the man I just ran into you with at the gay club?” Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. And he doesn’t get the opportunity, anyway. Jimin stays behind with Hoseok, claiming to be more interested in dancing than another drink, and Namjoon follows Seokjin to the bar.

“Just a beer,” Namjoon shouts when the bartender acknowledges them. “And whatever he wants.”

Seokjin’s a little surprised, he’s older, after all. He should be buying. “I can get my own, don’t worry about it.”

“Please, let me,” Namjoon argues. “A ‘welcome to the team’ drink.”

“Fine. A lemon drop, please.” He orders his drink and tries not to look over at Namjoon for his reaction. People (Yoongi is people) always tease him for his drink choices. He doesn’t give Namjoon the chance, though, asking, “Which team?”

Namjoon looks confused, cocks his head like he wants Seokjin to repeat himself. “Which team?” Seokjin asks again, a little louder. “Kiwoom, or you know,” he gestures around the club, “this team?”

Namjoon laughs loudly at the joke, his smile wide with all his teeth showing. Seokjin has the fleeting thought that he’s pretty like that, happy and genuine. “Well, if you’re new to this team, congratulations, I guess. It’s never too late to figure yourself out. But I meant Kiwoom.”

The bartender slides their drinks over, and Namjoon pulls his attention from Seokjin to pull out cash.

When he gets his change, he turns back to Seokjin and smiles. “So, do you dance?”

“No.” Seokjin shakes his head. “I’m really just here for my friend.” He hooks a thumb over in the direction of Hoseok, who is back to dancing, this time with Jimin.

Namjoon gives him a curious look. “Really?”

“I mean, I’m gay, too. But I wouldn’t be out clubbing at one in the morning if it weren’t for Hobi.”

“Oh, me too,” Namjoon agrees, with a look passing over his face that could be relief, Seokjin isn’t sure. “I never know what to do with myself at places like this. Mostly, I just make sure Jimin gets home safely, but I’m not much of a dancer.”

Because it’s often that Seokjin’s mouth is disconnected from his brain, especially when he’s already had a few drinks, he says, “Too bad. You’ve got the body for it.”

It’s dark in the club, but there’s no mistaking Namjoon’s reaction. His eyes go wide and he ducks his head sheepishly, both dimples showing before he busies his mouth with taking a drink of his beer. “Thanks,” he says softly after he swallows, barely audible above all the noise. “I think.”

Seokjin’s mortified that he said it out loud, not quite an intrusive thought, but close enough he should have kept it to himself. He doesn’t even know what it means. Anyone has the body for dancing if they can keep a rhythm, just because Namjoon is tall and broad and—It’s just that he’s in a gay bar, and all he’s used to doing in gay bars is flirting with other gay men, and there’s a painfully attractive one right in front of him, buying him a drink—It’s just muscle memory. That’s all. And now he can’t exactly walk it back. He should keep his mouth shut, bob his head along with the music, let the awkward silence that’s settling in linger a little longer. But Namjoon has other ideas.

“You do, too,” he admits, and when Seokjin looks up, Namjoon’s no longer bashfully looking into his drink, but looking right at him, cheeks a little rosy, eyes a little glassy from the alcohol. He’s so nice to look at. And he’s being kind and complimentary, making it so very hard for Seokjin to stay annoyed or to think he’s an asshole. Everyone has their moments, anyway.

He can feel himself getting a little woozy, and he doesn’t know if it’s the booze, the stale air, or the way Namjoon is looking at him that he’s definitely trying not to take as interest. How could it be, when Namjoon is clearly here with Jimin, hanging around in a dance club he doesn’t want to be in just to make Jimin happy? But in an effort to remove at least one of the possibilities, he finally breaks eye contact with Namjoon and looks out across the dance floor.

Hoseok is lost in the music, dancing with Jimin and a couple other men that they’d been talking to earlier at the bar. His friend looks happy, and more importantly looks like he’s not necessarily planning on leaving anytime soon.

“Looks like it’s going to be a long night,” he remarks, tilting his drink towards Jimin and Hoseok.

Namjoon laughs again, agreeing. “It’s always like this. I have to drag him home at four and he’s still begging to be out dancing somewhere until he falls asleep on my shoulder in the taxi.”

“Cute,” Seokjin concedes, because it is, and because he’s glad someone can relate to what his nights out with Hoseok are like. “Hobi’s the same. Doesn’t drink much, but dances until he can barely stand up. I practically have to carry him home sometimes.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Namjoon says.

“It goes both ways.”

Namjoon nods and stays quiet for a moment, finishing his drink. When he sets his glass down, he says abruptly, “They look fine and I’m hungry. Want to get out of here?”

It’s hard to hide his surprise—he and Namjoon aren’t exactly friends, and Namjoon’s maybe boyfriend is out there, maybe drunk, dancing with Seokjin’s roommate who he just met less than an hour prior, but Namjoon seems sure. He’s punching out a message to Jimin on his phone, explaining to Seokjin that they have a system for nights like this, nights where Namjoon can’t find a way to keep himself sober enough and awake enough to almost see the sunrise. He explains that Jimin is fine, and if Hoseok is fine, too, Namjoon would really like to get some hotteok.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s sober, and he’ll call me if he needs anything,” Seokjin concedes in a sort of haze. He’s not sure he should be leaving the bar with Namjoon, but again, muscle memory. A cute guy is asking him to go eat, and Seokjin basically never isn’t hungry, so there’s not much reason to say no. In order to maintain some semblance of sanity, he tunes into the part of his brain that’s reminding him that Namjoon is a co-worker, that they maybe don’t get along, that he’s probably not single and this is just a friendly thing to do.

While Namjoon types, Seokjin makes up his mind. It’s just street food. He sends a message to Hoseok and lets himself be escorted out of the club by Kim Namjoon. Life is so surreal sometimes, he thinks. Even a few days prior, he wouldn’t have had this on his list of things that were likely to happen.

It’s still chilly for May, and a burst of cool air hits Seokjin’s face when they walk outside. The air is a little humid, and there was a lot of dust earlier, so Seokjin puts a mask on even though he wants to just suck in deep breaths of the night breeze. Even then, it’s definitely less stuffy than the basement club, though, and he feels some of the dizziness he was feeling inside escape him as he makes his way up the stairs to the street, Namjoon close behind. Namjoon, for his part, pulls up a tired-looking green scarf around his neck and then smiles when he notices Seokjin looking. “My sister made it. It’s falling apart, but I like the color.”

They walk quietly, but fortunately it’s not too uncomfortable between them anymore. It’s interesting, Seokjin thinks, that Namjoon is in some ways very much the same both inside and outside of work, and in some ways so different. For starters, he dresses the same: casually, but everything’s clearly expensive, like he never got out of some vaguely trendy streetwear phase in college and now he has the money to pull it off. Tonight, he’s wearing gray joggers and brown boots, with an oversized graphic shirt underneath a denim jacket. He’s got a beanie pulled low over his hair now that they’re outside, even though it’s only a little cold. He looks comfortable. It’s sort of cute. He’s also quiet here like he is at work, but observing. It’s one of the things Seokjin knew about him before they worked together, just from being at the same events and in the same peripheral circles for a couple of years. Namjoon is always watching, looks like he’s making mental notes of everything happening around him. It’s probably one of the things that makes him a good manager. And he is good, even though the Heroes’ win record wouldn’t attest to that at the moment.

But, on the other hand, he’s more relaxed than at work. Smiles more freely, his shoulders aren’t as stiff. Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s that it’s approaching some ungodly hour of the morning, who knows.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks Seokjin, making it clear that he’s still observing, even now.

“Ah…” He feels caught out, feels heat rise up his neck a bit. “If I’m being honest?”

Namjoon nods. “Please.”

“Just that you’re different here than at work. But also the same.”

“You think I’m a dick here, too?” Seokjin looks up expecting to see him irritated, but he’s smirking, instead, waiting for Seokjin to be in on the joke he’s making about himself.

“I don’t think you’re a dick.”

“Really?”

“Well…” Seokjin purses his lips. “Maybe a little.”

It’s nice, the way they both laugh at that. Then Namjoon stops walking, rubbing the back of his neck and looking like he’s deep in thought. “About that,” he starts.

“It’s fine,” Seokjin interrupts.

“No. It’s not. I owe you a proper apology. I’m sorry about what I said about your dad, sorry I didn’t give you a chance. I’m not used to…”

“People disagreeing with you?”

Namjoon cringes. “Something like that, yeah.”

“It’s alright,” Seokjin says. “Really. I think in the end, we both want the same result, but we’re not always going to agree on how to get there. That’s life. I’d like to just start over with you, if that’s okay?”

“I’d like that, too,” Namjoon agrees, giving what Seokjin is starting to recognize as a habitual head-bowed smile when he’s a little nervous. “Thank you.”

As they walk, air a little less confining around them after Namjoon’s apology, the conversation comes smoothly between them. Apparently, Namjoon’s known Jimin for a long time—they came as a package deal out of the baseball program at the university they’d both attended. He speaks fondly of the trainer, and it’s sweet. Seokjin hasn’t had the chance to hear Namjoon talk about anything personal, so it’s a nice change of pace. He mentions Taehyung, how they all have been friends for years, working with each other off and on, and maintaining a relationship outside of work, too.

“Is it hard being their boss?” Seokjin asks as they walk.

“Hmm… No, not really. Tae’s always been easy to lead, and I played on a team with him for a while, too, so he knows me. Jimin reports to Yoongi, so we don’t have an issue there, and of course, we try to keep things professional when we’re at work. What about you, though? Is it weird to work for Yoongi? You’ve been friends forever, it seems like. He’s been talking about you since I’ve known him.”

“I thought it would be harder, honestly,” Seokjin says. “But Yoongi is… Well, he’s great, you know? He’s always trusted me more than I think I deserve.”

“He speaks highly of you,” Namjoon agrees.

“And you, too.” The compliment makes Namjoon smile prettily, the corners of his eyes crinkling beneath his beanie. It’s cute. It’s nice to see him, so far usually a little stoic, loose and happy like this.

They make it to the night market, and it’s a mass of people—busy and loud, and Seokjin loves it. He makes Namjoon stop at all the fishmongers and learns that Namjoon does not eat seafood, and thinks fish should be his friends instead. Seokjin makes voices for all the squid and mackerel on ice, taunting Namjoon. “Namjooooon, you should have saved us,” he squeaks in a high-pitched voice, waving a lobster in front of his friend.

“God, you’re annoying,” Namjoon shouts, but he’s laughing along, doubled over every time Seokjin makes up a new accent for a new sea creature.

They finally find fried food—Seokjin orders cheese hotteok and Namjoon gets honey—and they walk through the market to the other side, emerging on a different street than they started from, snacks almost cool enough to eat as they turn back towards Seokjin’s neighborhood.

He tears into his pancake, letting the cheese stretch long before it snaps and he pops a bite into his mouth. Around the food in his mouth, manners forgotten with the alcohol and the hour, he asks, “So, who knows?”

Namjoon pauses mid-bite, eyes wide, and doesn’t say anything for a moment. He regards Seokjin carefully, then starts walking as he chews. “About me being gay, you mean?”

“Yeah. It’s hard in our line of work,” he says.

“It’s hard everywhere,” Namjoon counters, some of the harshness Seokjin’s seen at work creeping back into his voice. “Sorry. You’re right. People aren’t very accepting. I try to keep it to myself, mostly.”

“Me too,” Seokjin agrees.

“Um… Well, Jimin of course. Taehyung knows, too. And Yoongi. And your dad, who was surprisingly okay about it?”

Seokjin tries not to sound bitter. “Probably more okay when you’re not his son.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know what to say.” Namjoon speaks tentatively, like Seokjin wasn’t successful in masking his annoyance.

“Not your fault,” Seokjin shrugs. “It’s fine now, but it was harder when he first found out.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen. Brought a ‘friend’ home from university for break. Got caught being too friendly one night.”

Namjoon groans. “That sounds terrible.”

“It was less than ideal,” Seokjin agrees. “But it’s mostly fine now. He knows I won’t change, so even if he doesn’t like it, my dad’s never had time to fight fights he knows he can’t win. It’s bad business.”

He doesn’t really blame Namjoon for having nothing to say to that. He wouldn’t either if it weren’t his story—sometimes he still doesn’t.

“But yeah… In my personal life, everyone knows. My dad, Yoongi, Hoseok… At work, it’s now you and Jimin, I guess. My ex.”

Namjoon’s eyebrow lifts at that. “Your ex is in sports, too?”

“Sure is. He plays in Busan.” Seokjin should feel bad for where this is going, maybe. Seungwook probably wouldn’t want to have their relationship discussed, but his sexuality is an open secret, he’s been photographed with men before, but he’s been good enough at the sport that everyone just buries it, pretends it doesn’t happen.

“Seungwook,” Namjoon says softly. “That makes sense, I guess. That’s how you know him?”

Seokjin nods. “We met in college, before I started working for Doosan. Tried to make it work even with the distance once he went to Busan, or I did, anyway. We dated for a couple of years. I thought it was serious. He thought it was serious when we were in the same city and casual when we weren’t. Irreconcilable differences, as they say.”

“That’s awful,” Namjoon replies, and when Seokjin looks over, it seems like he really means it. His brow is furrowed and his lips are pulled to one side in what’s maybe annoyance or disappointment.

“It happens. The worst part is that he never really tried to hide it, you know? I just thought… I don’t know. I guess I thought maybe he would change.”

“They don’t change.”

“Sounds like you’ve had experience.”

Namjoon shrugs, non-committal. “I bet we all have.” They keep quiet after that, finishing their snack and walking toward Seokjin’s building. They’ve made it past the organized chaos of the campus nearby, and they’re about to pass the park where all the ajummas walk fast laps in their tracksuits at night when the air is cooler and the dust settles a bit. He can see the top floors of his building behind another, towering above eyeglass shops and restaurants and convenience stores. The complex is large, seven or eight towers, and nothing like the luxury ones of Hannam-dong or Gangnam, but it’s nice enough and he’s able to save a lot of money and help out Hoseok, so he’s happy there. It’s also a good location, right between two metro lines, so he can get almost anywhere in the city relatively quickly.

As they pass the park, bowing shallowly to the women who ignore them as they walk by, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Namjoon’s must, too, because they’re both pulling their phones out at the same time.

“Jimin,” Namjoon says, holding his up.

“Hoseok. Did yours make it home alright?”

Shaking his head, Namjoon sighs. “I think he’s going to be out for a while.”

“Ah, Hoseok, too. Says not to wait up.”

Namjoon pockets his phone again after typing out a brief message. “I’m glad we did this,” he admits, not quite looking over at Seokjin.

“Me too.” Seokjin pauses to yawn, sleep finally hitting him after walking for a couple of hours as he approaches the entranceway to his building. “It was nice to get to know you a little bit,” he offers.

Namjoon is standing against the corner street sign, hands shoved in his pockets as he watches the ground intently. It seems like he wants to say something, jaw clicking as he works it in slow circles. Finally, just when Seokjin is about to pull the, “well, this is me,” card, Namjoon speaks. “Sangwon,” he says, still staring at the ground.

“Ah… don’t worry about that, Namjoon-ssi. It’s late. We can talk about work next week.”

He looks up and shakes his head. “No. Sangwon. He knows, too. And he’s not…” Namjoon blows out a long breath. “He shouldn’t know, but he does. I was stupid, made a mistake, he saw it, and he’s never really let me forget it.”

And with that admission, things click into place for Seokjin. Why Namjoon is protective of Sangwon, why he won’t entertain talk of trading him, why he got so defensive about it, why he wouldn’t even listen to Yoongi about the pitcher’s decline. Seokjin has no idea what Sangwon saw, but he understands Namjoon’s desire to keep it private, and understands why it’s not something he talks about. But it’s fucked up, too, that someone could be basically blackmailing him apparently.

“He doesn’t want to be traded, am I right?”

Namjoon hums in agreement. “He knows he’s slipping. Knows he’ll never get as good of a deal as he has with Kiwoom right now. Told me if I stopped any trade, he’d keep my secret.” He still can’t seem to make eye contact—and he shouldn’t be the one who’s embarrassed, but Seokjin thinks he gets that, too. He’s about to say as much, but Namjoon keeps talking. “I feel terrible about it, you know? I know it’s wrong—for the team. I know I’m a coward.”

“You’re not,” Seokjin says firmly, waiting until Namjoon finally lifts his eyes from the sidewalk. “It’s a shitty position to be in, and you’re doing what you think is best to protect yourself. No one would fault you for that.”

“I shouldn’t be in this position to begin with,” Namjoon argues.

“No, you shouldn’t. But not because of anything you did or didn’t do, but because only an asshole would use it against you.”

“Maybe you’re right… I don’t know anymore.”

“Of course I’m right, I’m your hyung. I’m always right.”

Finally, Namjoon smiles again. “Thank you,” he says.

“I had fun with you tonight,” Seokjin replies. “This is my building though. Are you close? I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask.”

“I am. Just a couple streets over. Less than 10 minutes.” He pulls himself upright from where he’d been leaning against the sign post. “I had fun, too. Goodnight, hyung.”

When he turns to walk away with a wave, Seokjin realizes he hates that he likes the way Namjoon addresses him with familiarity for the first time, hates that he had fun in a way that felt a little like a date… Namjoon’s probably headed back to Jimin, and it’s not right to be wondering if Namjoon’s dimples and the faint flush he’s been sporting have anything to do with the way his hand brushed against Seokjin’s as they walked or the honesty they shared—more than coworkers, now. Maybe friends.

“We’ll figure out what to do about Sangwon, Namjoonah,” he calls after Namjoon’s retreating figure. “I promise.”

It’s one he doesn’t know if he can keep, but something about Namjoon makes him want to try, when the other man turns around with a wide but tired smile. “Thank you. For listening, and for all of this,” Namjoon says, walking backwards a little clumsily.

When he stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk and into the side of a tree, laughing at himself before turning around again, Seokjin realizes two things.

He is hopelessly endeared, and utterly fucked.

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