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#mafia yoongi x reader
yoonlattesworld · 1 year
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Respectfully, his
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Dilf yandere lawyer yoongi x reader one shot
🥀synopsis: you're his. That's it. It doesn't matter how messed up it is from society's view point. You belong to him and if someone tries to take what's his away, he'll just have to get rid of them. Simple right?
🥀genre/warnings: dilf yoongi, yandere yoongi, legal age gap, dad's bestfriend, smut, angst, romance, possessive yoongi, murder, blood, forbidden relationship,humiliation kink,daddy kink, blow job, profanities, name calling, a little drama
A/n: currently in my yandere obsession era 🤟🏻also, there are some themes in here that might be upsetting to some readers. So please don't read this if you're uncomfortable with yandere themes.
Main masterlist
Yoongi masterlist
Author's pov
Min yoongi was territorial man.
How territorial you ask?
You'll see soon
A gasp left your lips when you were suddenly pulled in by someone and a familiar hand pressed against your mouth to muffle the small yelp that slipped from your lips. Had you not recognized the feeling of his hand on you, your heart would have jumped out of your chest.
"Mr min" a small giggle left your lips when you felt him kissing along your neck "yoongi " he murmured as he locked the door with one hand while the other wrapped around your throat as he pressed your front against the locked door. You gasped softly when you felt his bulge pressing against your soft ass.
His voice came out in a low growl as he rutted against your ass with his one hand squeezing your breast gently "missed you so damn much,angel" you whimpered softly and your back arched as you felt your nipples hardening at his ministrations and heat pooled between your legs when he pinched your pebbled bud gently.
"Y-yoongi anyone can hear us" your voice came out in between soft pants as his free hand travelled down your body until he was cupping your sex in his large hand. you gasp in both pain and pleasure when he squeezed your womanhood . He yanked you back towards him tightly, his hips continued their movements as he mumbled "hold this pretty dress up for me sweetheart "
You gasped once again as he rubbed you over clothes and bunched up your dress, holding it up with shaky hands. A dark chuckle left his pretty lips when he brushed a finger on your plush folds and found how wet you were "you're fucking drenched angel. Sure you want me to stop?" He hummed deeply as a low groan fell from his lips when you whined shakily "d-daddy"
He cursed under his breath and turned you around before yanking down his pants just enough to pull out his rock hard dick. He fisted his cock as his eyes took you in. The thin stips of your satin dress were hanging over your shoulders, revealing the swell of your breasts which were heaving as you panted with flushed cheeks. A low curse fell from his lips as he pulled you against him and picked you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist with a breathy giggle. "Yoongi" you whispered, moaning softly as he pushed your ruined panties aside and rubbed your soaked pussy in slow circles. He hummed in reply as his fingers worked in a out of your tightness impatiently.
"B-be gentle I'm still sore from last night" your voice came out in a breathy moan as the head of his cock teased your entrance "I'll try, doll. You can't expect me to be gentle after skipping around in this little dress around so many important people." He grunted as he slowly entered you "you enjoyed watching me hide a fucking boner in front of your dad?" You gasped when he suddenly slammed inside you, causing you to grip his shoulders as his thick cock brushed against each part of your womanhood "o-oh god-" you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair and he slammed his lips on yours in a messy kiss. Your teeth and tongues clashed together as he kept slamming inside you, his grip around your thighs tightening. "Did you want your dad to know that his innocent little daughter was teasing his best friend the whole night like the little slut she is?" He growled lowly with his hand tangling in your long hair.
A mixture of a gasp and a moan left your lips when he tugged your hair causing him to chuckle darkly as you whimpered "n-no he can't know" "what would he think when he finds out his daughter rides my cock every night while he's asleep hmm?" You shaked your head as tears slipped down your face while your high approached rapidly "h-he would'nt like that. Oh-yoongi he can't know that-!" yoongi increased his speed when he felt your pussy twitching and his lips attacked your neck. He sucked deep purple marks on your sensitive skin as he felt his own high approaching "what will he do when he finds out that his daughter is letting a man twice her age cum inside her?" The humiliation and pain of overstimulation pushed you towards your high and the only thing you felt was him sealing your lips with his own to swallow your loud moan as his own high washed over him.
Your back arched as you milked his cock and your eyes fell shut when you felt his load of cum filling you up to the brim. While he buried his face in your neck as he came with a deep groan of your name. The only sound which could be heard was your pants and small whimpers when he moved his hips causing you whimper in slight pain. "You good?" He mumbled pressing a soft kiss on your forehead as his fingers wiped your tears softly. A soft smile made its way to his lips when you opened your eyes and looked at him shyly "hey babygirl" he rasped, kissing your lips softly "hi" you giggled shyly "put me down yoongs, aren't you tired?" He narrowed his eyes playfully while you giggled kissing his nose "are you calling me old, angel?" You shook your head with a bright smile. Something which caused his eyes to go soft. There was the smile he fell in love with. "You're so fucking gorgeous" your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed up when he kept on staring at you intensely. As if he was drinking in every beautiful detail of your soft features.
Your fingers played with his hair as you looked away to avoid his eyes "w-we should go back now or someone can get suspicious-" your words halted when you felt him twich inside you and looked at him with wide eyes "no" you whispered sharply "I'm really sore-" "i promise I'll be gentle, doll" was the last thing you heard before a sharp thrust scattered your thoughts.
He was anything but gentle.
After fucking you for another hour, you forced him to get out so you could fix yourself. Your legs were shaking as you walked out of the room and went straight to your bedroom. Not before sticking your tongue out at him, to which he simply smirked as he watched you limp up the stairs.
You had avoided your dad's guests most of the night. Why? Because right now your dad was trying to set you up with another one of his friend's son. You may have unintentionally used the same son to make a certain someone jealous. And now you regret it just a little bit. Because your knees were starting to hurt. "Fucking hell,doll" yoongi groaned and his grip around your hair tightened as he increased his speed.
You could only choke and gag against his cock as he slammed in your throat again. What happened? Well jeon jungkook, a potential son in law for your dad, visited your house as per yours and his dad's wishes. Unfortunately he came when yoongi was in your dad's study and unfortunately he heard the familiar annoying voice of the young man. (You think his voice is very melodic but you can't say that in front of yoongi) it was fine when you and jungkook were sitting on the couch until yoongi walked down the stairs. You almost drolled because of how good he looked. In his three piece suit and expensive rings and watch and his long hair styled perfectly. He didn't looked like he was in a good mood so you assumed his clients were being buttholes again. Being one of the biggest defense lawyer is hard you understand.
So when he gave your little shorts one look of disapproval, you immediately excused yourself to your room to wear something longer. The last thing you wanted was to irritate him even more. Don't get the wrong idea, he loves it when you wear tiny shorts and skirts but only when he is the only one admiring how good you look in them. And right now he wanted to gauge that little jerk's eyes out because he was staring at what belonged to him.
Yoongi watched you with a tight jaw as you walked past him. His eyes dark with possessiveness. And a pleasant shiver ran down your spine when his long fingers brushed against your soft thigh for a moment.
Poor jungkook was already intimidated by the older man since the first time he saw him but right now he was scared for his life because yoongi was looking at him like he wanted to skin him alive so he opted to excuse himself too and went to find you.
The first mistake jungkook made was even thinking about marrying you. That was enough to make yoongi's blood boil. The second mistake he made was looking at you with any inappropriate thought in his mind. That was enough to make yoongi want to kill him. The third mistake he made? Entering your room.
"You know you're the first guy I've let inside my room" you murmured placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. A small gasp left your lips when his arms around your waist tightened and his face buried further in your chest "first and last, doll" you giggled softly, enjoying the way he held you possessively "are you jealous yoonie?" He groaned at the nickname and squeezed one of your breast in a warning ,causing you to squeak in surprise before falling in a fit of giggles again "don't worry yoonie. You know you're the only one who gets a nickname made my me" you said proudly causing him to Chuckle fondly as you continued playing with his hair "I'm very honored my lady" you smiled widely as he snuggled in your chest "now keep talking. I wanna hear you"
It seemed like you were surprised to see jungkook entering your room too because he could hear you from the stairs "jungkook! Um I'll be right down, you didn't need to come here" "it's fine. I was curious to see what your room looked like and its very colorful-"
That little shit.
Before you could say anything,your bedroom door ripped open and your eyes widened when you saw yoongi standing at the doorway with his eyes glowing with anger. If he looked angry before then now he looked furious. And that wasn't good. Because he was staring straight at jungkook who looked at you nervously.
You looked at yoongi with wide eyes and shaked your head as he opened his mouth. His voice eerily calm "i don't think you're supposed to be here" jungkook opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off "mr min!" You chirped gaining his attention and you saw his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly when you smiled at him "remember last time i told you that i have a few questions regarding your last case? So if you're free, can we go over them right now?" Yoongi's jaw was still tight when he balled his fist and his free hand loosened his tie slightly. You know he does this when he is trying to control his anger.
He nodded stiffly, still glaring at the poor boy who looked extremely confused and maybe a little scared too. "Jungkook" you smiled "can we continue our conversation next time? I'm not sure if you know but I'm studying law and i have these weekly lessons with mr min so if you'd excuse me"
Yoongi almost scoffed as he looked at you with a proud smirk. There was a time when you used to scold him for his language. Weekly lessons his ass.
"Oh" jungkook blinked before nodding "of course yes i didn't knew you were studying law" that's because you weren't. "I'll take my leave then. See you later y/n" jungkook went to take your hand to press a kiss on your knuckles but stopped with a jump when he heard a low growl.
And that's how you ended up where you are right now. On your knees in the guest room with his cock down your throat while your dad is sitting in the room above. "There's no next time. You understand?" Yoongi gritted with a tight jaw. You nodded as best you could with a small whimper as tears blurred your eyes. A deep growl left his lips as he took in your teary eyes and flushed face, with saliva dripping down your chin as you took him like the good girl you were.
You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs as you saw his abdomen muscles clenching "look at you doll" he cooed mockingly "you're dripping just by sucking my cock. What's got you this wet hmm? Was it that little cunt?" You immediately shaked your head, gagging as he fucked you deeper "than who is it angel? Who are you dripping for?" His deep voice had a dangerous tilt to it. One that had you shake in both fear amd excitement "y-you" you mumbled, feeling yourself gushing as he let out a small groan with his head lolling forward "you're mine,y/n. You hear me? You belong to me. So if you don't want that guy's head separated from his neck, don't meet him again" you nodded yet again mumbling "y-yours yoongi" "fuck" he cursed lowly as his high washed over him.
His thrusts got sloppier as he shot ropes amd ropes of hot cum down your throat. Of course you gulped down everything. You were panting heavily when he gently pulled out of your mouth and pulled you up on his lap while breathing heavily. You sniffled quietly as he wiped your tears softly "did i hurt you angel?" It never failed to amaze you how his voice changed in an instant "no" you whispered shaking your head with a small pout causing him to smile softly "what's wrong?" You cupped his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips before whispering "don't think I'm interested in anyone else but you yoongs. You're the only one i l-love" you whispered the last word nervously and your heart tightened with worry when his face went blank.
And suddenly, a dark chuckle left his lips "don't say things like that without thinking of the consequences doll" you looked at him with big confused eyes as he bit his lip, his eyes darkening as he saw the innocence behind your brown irises "you know how strong that word is? You know the meaning of that word? Let me tell you little dove. It means that once you say it, you're mine forever. I'm never letting you go y/n. And I'll ruin everything which comes in between us. It doesn't matter who or what. Because I'm willing to burn this whole damn world for you. Now think again and tell me doll. Do you love me?"
Did his words scare you? Maybe a little bit. But they also gave you a sense of security and comfort. Was it even right to feel comfort in such dangerous words? You don't know and you don't care to find out. Because well, you've always been a little clumsy and maybe that's why you fell for him so easily.
Taking a deep breath you nodded, looking at him with shaky yet determined eyes "i love you yoongi" slowly, his blank eyes gained thousands of emotions. Some of which you couldn't even describe. But you didn't need to anyway, when a smile formed on his lips "good. Because i love you too angel. So fucking much you can't imagine" your breath stuttered when his lips brushed against yours softly at first, before he pressed his lips on yours firmly. You don't know if his hands were shaking due to nervousness, or excitement when he layed you down on the bed and looked at you like you held the whole world in your small palms.
"Now be a good girl and lay down, babygirl. Let me show you how much i love you"
~▪︎~
It seemed like every good thing was happening in one week. Two days have passed since you confessed your feelings for him and now you can confidently say you have a boyfriend. Although he insisted that he was your boyfriend, your whatever you wanted him to be since the moment you came in his life, you were still very happy to the new commitment. Now the only problem remained was your father. How can you tell him that you're in love with his bestfriend? How can you tell anyone that you're in love with a man who is old enough to be your father?
The small fickle of guilt was always present in the back of your mind every time you found yourself in his arms. But you forgot it every time he entered you.
Well, telling your father can wait because right now you were over the moon. Why? Because you just came to know that your dad is going on a business trip for 2 weeks. Which means you can stay with yoongi freely for 2 weeks!
You hummed a tune as you skipped down the hall and towards your dad's study. "Hi daddy!" You chirped poking your head through the door causing the older man to chuckle fondly as he opened his arms "hi princess " you giggled and buried yourself in his arms, sighing softly when he kissed your head.
Even though you're really happy to spend time with yoongi, you're a little sad too because you'll miss your dad very much :(
It seemed like he noticed the sadness on your face because he squeezed you tight for a second causing you to giggle softly "don't worry princess. You can call me anytime you want okay?" You nodded hugging him tighter.
"Yoongi, you're here" you froze hearing your dad Chuckling and a familiar warmth spread inside you when you heard his deep voice "I'm not interrupting you am i?" "No of course not. My little girl has always been a little emotional hasn't she?" You smiled at your dad and stepped back glancing at yoongi who was already looking at you with soft eyes "take care of her while I'm gone,old man" yoongi scoffed causing you giggle quietly as you tried to push the guilt down "you don't need to ask that and you're 4 months older than me grandpa" your dad grumbled something under his breath as he took his suitcase "just because you're more fit doesn't mean I'm grandpa" yoongi chuckled deeply as he followed your dad down the stairs "you'll be late for your flight hyunsoo"
At the airport you waved your dad goodbye and as he disappeared, you were in yoongi's arms. "Now let me take care of you angel" you smiled at him who smiled back. Kissing his nose softly, you teased "think you can handle me for 2 weeks , grandpa" you squeaked when he pinched your hip gently and lowered his head until he was biting your bottom lip softly "you have no idea how well i can handle brats, babygirl. Now get your cute butt in the car" "yes daddy"
~▪︎~
It's been 4 days since your dad left and those four days seemed to be the best days of your life. You talked to your dad every night before falling asleep. But in the day, yoongi spoiled you rotten. He would start the day by waking you up by sucking your sweet little pussy. And he'd fuck you sweet and slow before carrying you to the shower claiming to clean you up but you'd end up pressed against the cold tiles with him inside you again. Then he would make you breakfast and then watch you get dressed. After that he would take you to multiple malls and brand stores even though you have more than enough clothes. But according to him there's no such thing as too many when it comes to you.
He actually fucked you in the dressing room once because you just looked really good in that tight little dress. After coming home he'd work for a bit before getting distracted by you again when you would innocently come and sit on his lap. He'd end up fucking you again. And of course he'll fuck you again on his king sized bed.
And if you weren't at his place, he was at yours. You both were fully lost in each other's presence. So lost that you got a little too careless.
~▪︎~
You sighed with content as you skipped in the living room, placing the multiple shopping bags on the table before flopping on the couch. Gosh your legs are aching even though yoongi massaged them last night while you talked with your dad. You both were having a nice lunch when he suddenly got a work call. He was going to cancel an important meeting but you forced him to go. So he dropped you off at your house before leaving for work.
"Miss y/n?" You opened your eyes and smiled as you saw the head maid mina. But your smile dropped slightly when you noticed the nervousness in her eyes "what's wrong?" You questioned sitting up straighter . She cleared her throat before giving you the telephone "sir l/n would like to talk to you" you smiled widely as you took the phone from her hand "hey dad! How come you're free right now?" "Y/n" your Smile dropped once again when you heard his voice. He sounded..angry? "Dad? What happened?" You asked nervously and the next thing he said , made your heart drop.
"What is your relation with yoongi?" You felt your heart pounding as you tried to calm your breathing. Your hand clutched yoongi's hoodie which you were wearing as you tried to speak as confidently as you could "w-what do you mean, dad? What's my relation with him-?" "Mina saw him coming in our house almost every day y/n. And she also saw that he has been dropping you off every morning. She told me you haven't been home since two nights"
You felt like you couldn't breath
How did you not think about that? You could feel your chest tightening as you felt tears threatening to spill from your eyes "d-daddy-" "i don't want to hear any excuse y/n" you flinched at his sharp tone and your hand clamped your mouth shut to muffle your panicked sobs "just answer me in a yes or no" he sounded nothing like before. The warmth in his voice was gone and only left icy cold chill. "Are you sleeping with him?"
"D-dad please-" you sobbed "y/n" more tears spilled down your face "are you sleeping with him?" Taking a deep shaky breath, you whispered out "yes" the line went dead silent for a moment and you covered your face with your free hand as the fear of not being able to see him again gripped you tightly. And your dad only confirmed that fear "you won't see him again"
You immediately panicked and your eyes widened as you stuttered "n-no dad please i-i love him-" another sob left your lips " do you even know what love is? You're what, 22 and he's my age y/n!" You whimpered as he raised his voice. He never raised his voice at you "you won't see him again and that's final. You're not leaving the house until I'm back. And y/n" you held your breath as you waited for his next words "i never thought you would break my trust like this. Maybe it's my fault i didn't noticed that you weren't my little girl anymore "
"D-dad-" he hung up. You were left to stare at the phone, feeling your heart pounding and tears staining your face. 'You won't see him again' 'i never thought you would break my trust'
At that time, you couldn't think of anything other than him. So with panicked and quick breaths, you dialed his number with shaky fingers. One ring went and another and another and another. A frustrated sob left your lips as you called him again but he didn't pick up. You called him 5 more times praying he picks up but he never did. Sobbing quietly you let the telephone slip from your hand and fall on the floor. You forgot he switches off his phone during important meetings.
Standing up you tiredly made your way up the stairs feeling drained and tired of everything. Why did this have to happen? Did you really made a mistake? Should you have maintained your space with him since the very beginning when you noticed the sparks between you both? Should you have controlled yourself? Should you have agreed to your dad and married jungkook after graduating like he wanted you to?
All these thoughts made your head pound and you buried your face in your pillow. Fresh tears filling your eyes when a wave of his musky scent hit your nose. You didn't remember when you fell asleep. Or how long have you been asleep for. But you were woken up by the sound of your ringtone blaring. Opening your tired eyes, you sniffled quietly as you noticed it was getting dark outside and reached for your phone.
You were suddenly wide awake when you saw his name 'yoongs' sitting up straight you gasped when the call ended before you could pick it and then you noticed how many notifications were waiting for you.
"25 missed calls from yoongs"
"19 unread messages from yoongs"
You felt your eyes getting teary again when he called you and you picked up the call hastily "y-yoongi" a cry of his name left your lips the moment you pressed the phone against your ear and his deep voice calmed the panick inside you "I'm almost there doll. Stop crying please" you cried softly as he pleaded "no angel don't cry please. I'm so fucking sorry i didn't pick your calls. I'll never switch off my phone again" you could hear him pressing the car horn rapidly as he angrily spilled out profanities "i was about to call you when-" "he told you" you whispered feeling light headed as he mumbled "yes" "he knows yoongi" you whimpered "what will happen now?" You heard him curse under his breath "nothing doll. Everything will be fine i promise. I'll talk to him-"
"Maybe we shouldn't see each other again" the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself and left a bitter taste behind. The only thing you heard on the other line was a rapid sound of brakes and you assumed he pulled over before he could kill someone. You heard him take a sharp breath before he rasped out "what did you say?" He voice has always been deep but this time it was different. It was deeper with anger and fury. And even though it killed you to repeat what you said, you still did "w-we should stop seeing each other yoongi. D-dad said i broke his trust. That I'm n-not his little girl anymore" you sobbed, hearing nothing but heavy breathing at the other line.
"You're not leaving y/n" you whimpered softly when his voice broke "you don't get to leave now angel. I warned you before. I told you that once you say that word, I'll never let you leave" "i-i don't want to leave either yoongi i love you" you whispered "but i can't hurt him either, he's my dad" "I'm coming there. Don't think about anything else until i get there-" "don't" he froze "i can't meet you right now yoongi. I can't leave the house and you shouldn't come here too. The maids will tell him if you do" you begged.
You heard him let out a groan of frustration before a bang was heard causing your eyes to widen "y-yoongi? What happened?" "Nothing" he panted, leaning against the car as blood dripped down from his hand and on the broken side mirror on the ground "nothing" he repeated, taking a deep breath "you can't decide it alone y/n" "yoongi-" "no dammit i fucking love you! I can't live without you anymore can't you understand?!" His eyes clenched shut when he heard another cry leaving your lips "fuck I'm sorry doll. I didn't mean to yell-shit"
He rubbed his forehead, taking another breath before saying "I'll think of something babygirl. I know he'll come around. I'll take to him tomorrow. I'll do anything i fucking can you hear me?" "Yes" you whispered "good. Now get up and wash your face and go to sleep. And I won't say this again, y/n. Don't say shit like breaking up again. I'll go insane if i don't see you babygirl. You're my everything" you sniffled quietly whispering "I'm sorry" "it's okay doll" he sighed "yoongi?" "Yeah?" "Will he really be okay with us?" His heart clenched painfully when he heard how timid and small your voice sounded "yes angel. He'll understand. I'll do everything i can." He heard you take a shaky breath before hearing some shuffling "can you stay until i fall asleep?" A tired smile made its way to his lips "of course i can babygirl. Are you laying on your bed?" "Yes" "good girl. Don't think about useless things and get a good sleep yeah? Everything will be fine tomorrow" "yes and yoongi?" "hmm?" "I love you"
A fierce protectiveness snarled in his chest. "And i love you more babygirl. So fucking much you can't imagine" he sat in his car and placed the call on speaker. You were sound asleep by the time he reached home but he still didn't end the call as he laid on his bed still in his suit. Placing an arm over his eyes he groaned quietly, his tense muscles relaxing at the sound of your calm and slow breathing. Fuck you must have been so fucking scared.
His swears his heart had stopped beating when he saw so many missed calls on his phone and he was about to call you back when your dad did. He hadn't as much as flinched when he came to know that your dad knew. Although he did felt a small amount of guilt when he said "i trusted you with my daughter and what did you do? You took away her innocence yoongi. I never thought you of all people would break my trust" but he didn't regret it. He realized today that you were far more important than the 20 years of friendship with your dad.
Soon he fell asleep to the soft sound of your breathing as well. After all tomorrow's a big day.
~▪︎~
"Yoongi? What the hell are you doing here" hyunsoo's jaw clenched when he saw yoongi standing in front of his car at the airport. "We should talk" yoongi mumbled, opening the door causing hyunsoo to scoff angrily "you expect me to talk when you've been sleeping with my daughter?" Yoongi sighed, rubbing his forehead "i have no interest in talking either. But i can't take it when she cries. Also,considering we go way back i thought we can come to an agreement-" "you want to reach a fucking agreement after breaking my trust-!" "I said get in the damn car hyunsoo. You can't and won't be able to take her away from me. So we can do it nicely, or not. I honestly don't care" hyunsoo didn't have any choice other than following yoongi's words because a gun was pressed on his back.
~▪︎~
"I love her and she loves me. I don't see what problem you have with us" yoongi drawled as he looked at the man in front of him with lazy eyes "love?" Hyunsoo scoffed "since when do you do love, yoongi. As far as i remember, your words were 'i can only tolerate women in bedroom' aren't you using y/n for that too?" Yoongi's jaw ticked. How the fuck can he think that yoongi is using you for your body? He'd rather kill himself than hurt you in any way.
"I don't have anything more to say. I've already told you everything i could. You need to understand that i would never hurt y/n in any way possible. I'd rather burn the world than give her any pain" hyunsoo chuckled dryly "you still have a nice way of words yoongi. Just like in college when you scored every girl you wanted" yoongi smirked "you don't understand do you. She's not any other girl" hyunsoo didn't replied but instead kept looking at him with hatred in his eyes.
"I'm asking for the last time. Will you accept us or not?" "Over my dead body" hyunsoo snarled and that was all yoongi needed to give the man standing beside him a nod. Before a gunshot rang in the cold and silent room.
Hyunsoo's shocked but dead eyes stared at yoongi who tched wiping the blood off of his hand with a handkerchief "i wasn't asking because i needed your permission. I was asking because she wanted your permission. And she gets whatever she wants. It doesn't matter how"
~▪︎~
Yoongi held your shaking body in his arms as you buried your face in his chest, unable to look at your father being buried. Yoongi held you tightly, rubbing your back gently as he watched the coffin lowering to the ground with emotionless eyes.
After the ceremony you laid in yoongi's arms, still crying and shaking as you remembered your dad's lifeless body getting buried in the ground. You came to know that your dad was coming home early and that yoongi was going to pick him up. But your dad had already left with another driver who was actually a hitman hired by some people who wanted your dad dead. The only thing you know is that your dad failed to defend those people so they hired someone to kill him.
"Shh I'm sure he doesn't want you to cry, angel" yoongi whispered as you curled up in his arms "he was happy for us" you looked at him surprised "w-what?" Yoongi nodded as he leaned his head against yours "we had talked a few hours before his flight. He approved of us babygirl. He said he wanted you to be happy" "oh my god" you whimpered as fresh tears rolled down your face and you buried your face in his chest "really?" "Yes" he kissed your head "he was going to surprise you but.." you shaked your head,crying softly.
Cupping your face with one hand he said "i promise I'll make sure he suffers for the rest of his life y/n" you nodded believing his every lie. Because why wouldn't you?
He hated seeing you cry but what could he do? When that stubborn man wasn't budging? Killing him was yoongi's last option which he was willing to avoid by he didn't leave him with any choice.
The grief will pass but the happiness of staying by each other's side will stay forever. So it was all worth it.
"I love you yoongi" you whispered a few days later as he hugged you from behind. "I love you too angel" he exhaled watching the orange glow of sunset falling over your face. You watched the news a few days ago. The hitman along with the people who ordered your father's death were found dead. And now you both will be able to live the rest of your lives peacefully.
Right?
So now you know.
Min yoongi is a territorial man.
~▪︎~
Taglist open ♡
@bunnyrhe @rosquilleta @raineandskye @shymagda-7 @creatorspalace @yoonaasa @iheartsvt @xmochiloverx @kyojuro-ska @meow-min @kissme-ornot @wobblewobble822 @kookieaddicted96 @thelilbutifulthings
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tae-cup · 2 years
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Bury Me | Masterlist
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Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “Someone who loves you wouldn’t do this” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing Rating: PG-13 A/N: Okay. Let’s give this Mafia AU another shot so everyone can please stop reading my old mafia fic that is just terrible and i’m so sorry Other: Masterlist
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Chapters
0. Teaser
1. A White Dress
2. Skyline Stars
3. Ruins
4. Caskets and Gold Roses
288 notes · View notes
explicit-tae · 6 months
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Carnal Desire (1/3)
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The last person you expected to see was an ‘old friend’ from nearly a decade ago, but you’re determined to show the man that you’re no longer the little girl he use to know. @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111
Word Count: 2.070
Warning: smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, haegeum type vibes fr fr, grinding, finger sucking, the reader is down bad, but so is yoongi, kissing, sucking,
“You’ll do amazing, really!” Bunny - your co-worker - says as she pats the highlighter upon your cheekbones. “You’re already on your way to becoming a favorite.”
You take a deep breath and nod.
“Please stay focused. We have very important people tonight.”
And there it was, your nerves kicking back in once more.
You only been here for a week - the high end strip club is more than you imagined. You often thought it would be littered with creeps and smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes - but maybe you just chose the right one. 
Your name is being called now and from behind the curtains, you notice the lights dim, and the red spotlight appears. You clicked your heels, rounding the curtain and made your way towards the middle of the stage. It’s amazing how you were able to turn your nerves off when needed be - you were highly grateful that you didn’t need any liquid courage to do so.
Bunny was correct when she said it would be a busy night - and the important people she spoke of had to be front and center. You sway your hips to the pole, hooking a leg around it and swinging as you do - a routine you practiced for the past two days.
You often don’t look into the crowd while performing - you were a natural overthinker and the last thing you needed was to mess up in front of a group of men. However, this was different. You had important people here tonight and your boss informed each dancer tonight to “appear” available and interested.
You regret taking her advice.
You drop to your knees slow and sultry, crawling towards the edge of the stage. Smoking typically wasn't allowed, but important guests always got their way. Your eyes focus on the man smoking and you froze.
Those eyes - such cold and feline-like eyes. They flash in your mind and you were brought back to your childhood; specifically your teenage years. As the smoke clears, as does your vision on the man - pale, porcelain-like skin, hard eyes and a low smirk on his lips.
Yoongi.
Min Yoongi was before you. He was the important guest tonight - he looked it. Even in the sea of people, you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with the nicotine smell. He appeared clean shaven and had not aged since you last saw him a decade prior.
Yoongi brings the cigarette back into his lips, his fingers curling as he does so. Your eyes glance to his hands, large and veiny and full of shining diamonds. 
Your eyes begin to grow dry and you blink. You finally inhale to not have your head go any more lightheaded than necessary. 
You hear a hiss of your name and your body immediately reacts. You begin to crawl once more, your eyes on nobody but Yoongi now. He furrows a brow and appears amused and curious.
Min Yoongi was before you.
Your Min Yoongi.
The same Min Yoongi that your father despised - called him a thug and everything but a decent human being. Father’s never approved of their little girls being hooked on an older man - but he was only two years older; if that. The same Min Yoongi who you had once admitted to loving during too many drinks and even when you insisted on showing him you weren’t a little girl, he never took advantage of your advances.
Min Yoongi was before you now - and you weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a woman that grew into her curves and appearance, and you were determined to show him just that.
It’s crazy to think that just one look at him made you feel as you did as a teenager - shy, but willing, giddy and wanting to prove yourself to him.
Yoongi leans closer to the stage just as you lean forward. Your manicured hand grasps his large ones and grasps the cigarette. You were never a smoker - he knows this. But he only smirks as you take a puff of it and blow it at him.
Your time was up, but your eyes linger onto Yoongi’s longer as you exit the stage. You feel it all fall on you at once - the nerves and nausea. Yoongi was here. He had seen you like this - what was he thinking? Has he remembered you? 
“What was that?” Bunny heels slam against the floor as she rushes to you. “Do you know who that is?”
Yes. “No.”
Bunny’s eyes widened. “You don’t know who Suga is?”
Suga. Yoongi must have made another name for himself. He was once someone your father considered bad news and you can only guess what he was into back then - but Yoongi is a man now. He surrounded himself with men, him directly in the middle. He was an important member of whatever society he ran with; you didn’t really care much to ask.
“I was told to entertain the guests.” you shrug your shoulders. “Suga seems to be a very important person.”
Bunny nods with wide eyes. “Extremely. He dabbles in organized crime and is one of our biggest spenders here. You-”
“Y/N.”
You freeze, as does Bunny. 
“I’m dead.” you murmur to Bunny who slowly nods.
Your boss’ eyes are upon you when you turn. Her arms are crossed as she motions you to follow her. 
“I-I didn’t mean-”
“You aren’t in trouble.” your boss murmurs as you saunter towards her. “Seems like your little stunt caught Suga’s eye. He never pays for a dance.”
Yoongi did remember you.
Your heart races as your boss points to the back rooms, the further room in the back. The only room without a camera.
You look yourself over in the mirror. Your hair appeared to be in place still, as did your makeup. Your lingerie hugs you nicely and your heels were just an added bonus. 
It grows hotter and quieter as you make your way down the hall to the back room - a V.I.P section. You slide the door open and make your way in. Yoongi is seated upon the round, leather section. The room is surrounded with mirrors and low lights. On the table forward him is a large bottle of champagne - the most expensive there was at the club - and two glasses.
“Sit.” Yoongi says as you close the door behind you. He goes to pour both glasses of champagne, handing you one as you round the table.
“Thank you.” you murmur. It takes everything in you not to melt - but you are grown now and no longer the shy teenage girl.
You sit on his lap, legs swinging to trap him between your thighs. Your eyes meet his as you drink the champagne.
Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips as he leans back into the couch. He doesn’t go to move you from your laps, and even if you did, you wouldn’t leave without a fight. After all, he paid for your services - private dances weren’t cheap and especially not in the V.I.P backroom.
You discard your glass beside you without a care, licking your own lips.
“Y/N…Y/N…”
Your arms are fresh with goosebumps when you hear his voice say your name. He down the champagne, free hand rubbing against your thigh to your waist. 
“How much you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” Yoongi finally says as he finishes the champagne, discarding his own glass to the side.
“I can say the same for you…” you begin to roll your hips. “...Suga.” All the girls are informed to not be so close to a client. They paid for a certain amount of time - and in that time you were told to stall, only sitting upon them at the last few minutes of the dance.
Yoongi’s hands are as large as you know them to be, both now cupping your waist. 
“How is it that when my name comes from your lips it sounds sweeter than ever before?”
Yoongi’s eyes rack over your figure.
You were no longer the little girl who followed him around against her father’s wishes. No, you were now a woman - a full grown woman who grew into her chest and hips. He recalls the amount of times he (against your own knowledge) would have to assure no creep used your naivety to their advantage.
Yoongi’s girl is what they called you - even back then. No matter how much he told anyone that you were nothing but a close friend to him; someone he would protect because he had a heart.
“Where have you been?” Yoongi allows his curiosity to get the best of him. He was no fool in knowing the pure hatred your father had for him - even if Yoongi never took advantage of your feelings for him. When you were old enough to consider making your own decision, you were shipped far away from Daegu - and that was ten years ago.
You continued your lap dance, your hands placing themselves on his shoulders. Yoongi is but a man and his eyes rack your figure in the tight lingerie, large hands rubbing up your side with a lick of his lips once more.
“My dad sent me to live with my aunt and continue school there.” you respond. “I came back when he got sick.”
Yoongi furrows a brow. Your father was sick. He hasn’t seen the man since he last saw you.
“Dropped out of school to take care of him. Now I’m here.” you roll your hips against the bulge forming in his pants. “With you.”
Yoongi feels your hands rub from his shoulders to his torso.
“What about you, Suga? You seem to have made a name for yourself.”
Yoongi was being far too modest for your liking. You grasp his hands in yours, eyes staring right into his. You allow his hands to roam your body, setting them right onto your breasts.
“I have.” Yoongi murmurs, voice deeper. “I own this city now, baby.”
You swallow at the pet name, leaning closer. You want to capture his lips with your own - they were so rosy and soft. 
“I bet you do.” you murmur, warm breath against his lips. “Does someone run it with you?”
Yoongi tilts his head. He gives you a snicker. “You still got that crush, huh?” he teases. He squeezes your breast lightly before his right hand cups your check.
You grow hot at his words, swallowing thickly. You wouldn’t allow him to treat you like the same little girl you once were. You were an adult - you were in control of your own desires. 
“It’s more than a crush now. I’m not a little girl.”
Yoongi knows this - he wants to tell you just how much you’ve grown since the last time he saw you. 
“I can show you how much it’s grown.” 
Yoongi can’t take his eyes from you. Your tongue peeks out and wraps around his thumb. You suck on it, eyes boring into his own. His cock twitches at the sultry act.
“Y/N…”
You moved fast. From sucking onto his thumb to your lips upon his. Your thighs clenched him beneath you tightly, never wanting to let go. 
Yoongi loses himself in your touch, arms wrapping around your bare body, touching skin he never knew he would ever long to touch. 
Your tongue dances with him, his hands cupping your ass, guiding you to continue to grind against his bulge.
“I want you, Yoongi.” you murmur against his lips. 
“I know, baby.” Yoongi grunts. “I know…”
Your teeth clasps down onto his bottom lips, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Then take me.”
Yoongi shudders, holding onto you even tighter.
“You can have me. All of me.”
Yoongi shakes his head, breathing quickening. Your words ring in his ears non-stop.
“I want to be your girl.” you continue - you refused to hear anything other than approval. “You can have all of me right now and forever.”
Yoongi lips are against the skin of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. Your words are getting to him, his cock begging to take you.
But you weren’t a common whore - not just some pussy to wet his cock. You were someone he cared for deeply.
“You are my girl.”
Your lips meet his once more and your heart feels satisfied - it’s the same words you wanted to hear for years now.
Part 2 | Part 3
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sailoryooons · 7 months
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Angel | myg (m)
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☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader
☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 
☾ Word Count: 15,551
☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 
☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 
☾ Published: September 3, 2023
☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist
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Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.
She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.
Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 
Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 
Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 
Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 
Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 
“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 
“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.
“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”
Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 
It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.
Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.
Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 
Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 
They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 
Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 
“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”
“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”
“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 
“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”
“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”
“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 
Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 
A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 
Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.
When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.
People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top. 
The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 
Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 
Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 
The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 
Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.
Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 
Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 
Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 
Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 
Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 
Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 
Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.
Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.
Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 
His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 
Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.
The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 
At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 
Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 
It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 
“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”
“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”
“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”
“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”
“Whatever shall we do?”
He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 
“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”
“Thanks, Angel.”
“Mhmm.”
His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 
Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 
Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 
In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 
Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.
Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 
He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 
He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 
It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 
Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 
With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 
Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 
“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.
“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 
You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 
Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 
“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.
“Mhmm. Just a long night.”
“You smell like perfume.”
“Hmm?”
“Like peaches.”
He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”
“Maybe.” 
“Interesting.”
“Not particularly.” 
He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”
Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 
“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 
Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 
Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 
“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”
“Are you a foot person?”
“What if I was?”
You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”
Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.
“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”
“That so?”
“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”
Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 
You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 
So he does. 
Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 
Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 
His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 
Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 
He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 
Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 
Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 
Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 
Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.
When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.
This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 
There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 
“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 
“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 
He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 
A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 
“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 
Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 
The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.
Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 
“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 
He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.
When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.
Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 
“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 
The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.
“You don’t-”
“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 
“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 
Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 
Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 
“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.
“Give it to me.”
One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 
Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 
A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 
Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.
The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.
Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 
There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.
You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 
Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 
“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”
“I’d sleep in them anyway.”
“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”
“Meh.”
“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”
“Huh. So you are jealous.”
“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 
-
Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.
Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 
When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 
You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 
Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.
The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.
A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.
“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.
Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 
“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”
“Mhmm.”
“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 
With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.
Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 
Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 
You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 
As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 
Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 
At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.
If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 
It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 
And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 
The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 
After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 
You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 
Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 
Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 
The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 
At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 
It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 
Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.
While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.
Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 
Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 
Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.
Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.
You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 
He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 
Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 
-
Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 
Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 
The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 
A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 
“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”
You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 
Money. This man has money. 
Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 
The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 
The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.
If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.
“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”
“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”
“Well said.”
Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.
“Do you know where we are?”
You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”
He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”
“You asked a question.”
“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”
“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”
He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 
Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.
“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”
“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”
You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”
“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”
You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”
“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”
“To get their cock sucked, usually.”
Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.
Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 
“I will fucking kill you.” 
There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.
You need to be valuable. And fast. 
“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 
Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 
“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”
“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 
“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”
“One way to find out, right?”
Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.
Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 
Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.
Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 
You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.
It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 
Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”
You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”
“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”
“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”
“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”
“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”
“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”
“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”
“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”
This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 
“Thank you.” 
“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 
“Okay.” 
His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 
“Okay. I love you.” 
“See you soon.”
-
Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 
When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 
Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 
All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?
Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 
Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 
“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”
“What?” Yoongi demands.
“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 
It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 
“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”
“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”
“He told you where they were?”
“No, she did.”
Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”
“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”
“In front of-”
“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”
“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”
“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”
“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”
Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”
An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.
I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 
In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 
None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 
-
Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.
You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.
It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 
You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 
At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 
Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 
It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 
You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 
The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.
You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 
It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.
Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 
Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.
A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 
When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 
Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.
His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 
Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
Click. Squeeze. Bang. 
You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 
A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.
Squeeze. Bang. 
It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 
Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 
“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”
“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 
“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 
It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 
Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-
Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.
Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 
“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”
“No.”
“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 
“I don’t-”
“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”
Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 
Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”
You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 
When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 
“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 
“Yes.”
“Then why-”
“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”
“Okay.” 
“Look at me.”
You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”
-
A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 
It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.
Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 
Home. 
The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 
Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 
Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 
The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 
So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 
Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 
The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.
“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”
“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”
“Give me five.” 
When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 
Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 
Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 
Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.
You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 
Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.
He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 
When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.
He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 
Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 
Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 
One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 
Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.
His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 
Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.
“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 
He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Hmmm.” 
“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 
“Fuck.” 
He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 
“Fuck yeah.” 
You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 
“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.
“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 
“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”
“You do.”
“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 
The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”
“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 
“Mmm.” 
The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 
He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.
A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”
“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”
Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 
Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 
Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 
“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 
“Fuuuuck yeah.”
His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 
“Shit shit shit shit.” 
You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 
The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 
For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 
“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours.”
“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”
You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”
He pauses. “What?”
“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 
“Then why stay there?”
You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”
“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”
“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”
He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 
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wooataes · 8 months
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Bangtan’s Receptionist
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Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.
Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.
A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!
- Tae 🥰💜✨
Request to join my taglist here!
Masterlist
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Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.
You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.
“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.
“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”
“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.
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After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.
“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.
“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.
“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”
You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.
“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”
You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.
“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”
“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”
“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”
“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.
“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.
“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.
“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.
“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.
“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”
“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”
“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.
“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”
Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.
“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.
“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”
Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.
“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”
“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”
“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.
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“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.
A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.
“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.
“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.
“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”
“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.
“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.
It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.
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Our Little Love part seven - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au
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What’s that saying? One step forward two steps back? 👀 6K words containing: manipulation, toxic yandere men, non-consented acts of affection, lies, possessive behaviour, jealousy, allusion to crime and kidnapping.
“Little love,” Jin calls for you absentmindedly, frowning when you don’t look up from your book to answer him. It’s one you had read a million times before, maybe you didn’t hear him.
“Little love?” He tries again, looking confused as you let out a disgruntled sigh of annoyance.
He can see your jaw clench, something had pissed you off. Your foot became restless as you sat in the arm chair, it was only when Jimin cleared his throat obviously he remembered the terms and conditions you had enforced.
This time he lets out a big sigh, one of tested patience. He mumbles an apology before turning away, a bitter feeling creeping up his chest. Fuck, he resented the fact he couldn’t call you that anymore, it was like asking him not to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck, they needed to earn your forgiveness soon or this might actually kill them. Not that they ever underestimated you, but you really did know which weapons to pull to hurt them the most, and fuck did he have to admit they deserved it. Didn’t mean he had to like any of it.
Jimin follows him out, a quick glance back at you to see if you were paying any concern but of course not. Since the day you announced the break you’d been keeping your distance, Jimin had complained about it childishly with tantrum tears in his eyes but you had patiently explained you needed the space to clear your head. 
Jimin scoffs at the memory, feeling sour about it still. The pout he wears gives away his thoughts when they both find Yoongi in the kitchen.
“Little love giving you a hard time?” he says almost amused. 
It’s Jin’s turn to scoff dramatically, ears burning so red, Yoongi swears there’s steam. 
“We can’t call her that anymore,” he complains, sulking. 
Yoongi smiles a little, not because he truly found his hyung’s pain entertaining, but because he understood the pain. 
“It’s a difficult situation,” Yoongi agrees, “but the alternative would have been so much worse.”
Jimin and Jin stare silently at him, their gazes aggressive as if they wanted to hit the male but they didn’t because he was right. The worst alternative wasn’t expecting you to leave, they all knew they would never let that happen, but if you had become a ghost of yourself, if they had broken you so badly there was nothing left to rebuild, then what would be left of you? 
“When did you become so considerate?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like any of it, he didn’t care if you were right and they were wrong, you had taken away their most prized and valuable possession, you. He couldn’t help the internal tantrums as if someone had taken away his favourite toy. Call him childish, call him whatever the hell you wanted, he hated this situation, and he couldn’t hide it. 
They apologised, and apologised, and apologised, and you still gave them the cruellest punishment you could think of. 
“You’re still thinking with anger,” Yoongi acknowledges, knowing when Jimin cooled down from this he would probably be the one with the most regret and remorse, what he didn’t know is Jimin was clinging to his resentment with all his might, because once that gave way he would have so much to answer for. 
Men would pay money to see Jung Hoseok hesitate, but that was exactly what he was doing now. Another book in your hand (you were reading a bit too much lately, he didn’t like it, it was as if you knew you couldn’t leave physically so you were doing so mentally), and he was stalling himself with interrupting you. 
Your rejection cut holes into him, and that’s what he was afraid of when approaching you today. When he was younger he used to be afraid of everything, but after indulging in the horrors of survival and the syndicate, nothing terrified him any more, or so he thought before his heart belonged to you. 
“Litt-” he catches himself before he says it too loud, clearing his throat quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. “Y/n?”
He sounds more confident, his more serious persona going up as if that would protect him here. He knew he needed it, any sane person after experiencing his pleasure and pain games would run at the sight of him, and a part of him was getting ready to catch you if you did.
You look at him and it has him crumbling. Something in his chest physically hurts him so bad he thinks he needs to go see a specialist, one glance from you and he’s ready to beg on his knees again for your forgiveness. The distance between you, although you were here in front of him, killed him. It felt eerily similar to what it did when you left, and it confused his brain and body so much. 
He had to remind himself every day, you were still here, you still loved them, this was just temporary. 
“I-I wasjus- I was just heading to the b-basment,” forget money, men would lay down their lives to see Jung Hoseok stutter and stumble over his words. 
You frown in question when he doesn’t continue, but stares at you expectantly, until he realises he hadn’t explained what he wanted.
“For a workout!” He rectifies himself quickly before taking a breath to calm himself, “I wondered if you wanted to join me?”
He mentally pats himself on the back quickly for sounding more put together, but then his nerves start to shake again when you don’t respond immediately. You contemplate it, for too long in his eyes, stretching out the pause until you have the man sweating. Who needs a work out, just piss your girlfriend off and try to spend time with her while she's still mad. 
“Yeah, okay,” you nod, finally putting down your book (he should get Jimin to burn them all). “I’ll go get changed.”
The relief and joy that floods Hobi almost makes him pass out, a genuine smile he hasn’t felt on his own face for days bursts through. This was a step in the right direction, you didn’t hate him or you would’ve shut him down. With the amount of hope in his system, he was getting giddy.
You wanted some time alone this evening, without them lingering around you, with poor attempts of covering their intentions with busying themselves. As if you couldn’t see Jimin’s imploring stare as he walked past you from the corner of your eyes. Or the way Jin would walk towards you, hesitate and then walk away. 
You didn’t say they couldn’t talk to you, you were just on a break. Part of you knows you should seek them out and start civil conversation but that part also knew once you opened the door they would come barging through. An inch would turn into a mile and you would be back where you started. 
So now you were busying yourself with the world’s worst chore, just to escape and breathe for a second, laundry. You were sorting through the load at a snail’s pace, knowing when you were done you’d have to endure them again. You’re so embedded in your own thoughts you don’t feel another presence join you.  
Arms wrap around you, making you still. His figure almost engulfs you from behind, his nose already finding purchase on your neck as he buries himself against you. You try not to sigh, you were sick of hearing the sound yourself but it was always  one of patience.
You understood how hard it was for them to accept your decision for a ‘break’, but all you wanted was some respect for it. And this broke your no touching rule.
“Tae let go,” you say without an ounce of emotion, continuing sorting out the laundry in front of you.
His only reaction to your words is the opposite of course, holding you tighter against him making your heart skip too many beats to count. Your skin sizzled with something akin to longing, a fire he only seemed to ignite when his breath hit your neck.
You don’t give in. You throw the item of clothing in your hand down, both hands on the edge of the basket as you still, standing statue as he tries his hardest to work through your defences. You don’t respond when he nuzzles his nose against where he’s buried, or to the rumble of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. His eyes are closed, you know they are, he’s relishing the moment all he can before you take it away.
He doesn’t feel you respond the way he wants you to, he wants you to melt against him and the urge is so strong but somehow you resist. He whines, the sound so soft near your ears you almost miss it. He tries holding you tighter still, his thumb stroking soft circles on your skin, trying to tempt you to break your resolve. Gentle, almost whisper like kisses are placed on your shoulder as he finally breaks away.
“Are you done?” You say almost coldly as he steps back, picking back up another item of clothing.
You hear him sniff but you don’t let it move you.
“Heaven, please,” he begs, a fist in your top clutching onto you.
That’s when you turn to face him. If he expects to see any softness in your gaze he’s sorely mistaken, it’s not a glare you’re giving him but it’s close enough that it burns. You don’t even flinch when you see tears in his eyes.
“I asked you not to touch me,” you state quietly but your words are firm. “Or that if you did, you asked first.”
He looks down, partly in shame, partly in grief. You can’t stand to see the sight, it makes your heart ache, so you walk away.
“Y/n?” Jungkook asks for your attention, biting his lips in worry. “Can I ask you about the book you’re reading?”
The others in the room feel an overwhelming sense of envy when you smile at the maknae. Jimin’s jaw goes slack as you scoot over to let Jungkook sit beside you. Envy was a dangerous thing, how he wanted to pluck the youngest of them out of the seat and take his place, but he hadn’t calmed his emotions down enough yet to approach you properly, and he knew if he did he’d ruin whatever rebuilding the others had done. No, he had to be patient with himself and withdraw, even if that meant physically. He was playing cards with Yoongi and Seokjin, but he places his cards down and leaves. 
Jin’s pout overtakes his face when he turns away from the sight of Jungkook grinning while you talk animatedly, putting down a card without thinking and letting Yoongi take the win this round. Yoongi didn’t even notice, his gaze goes soft at the way you laugh at a teasing comment Jungkook made, a sound he hasn’t heard in what felt like forever. The sound even makes the corners of Jin’s pout pull up. 
The youngest of the group honestly thought he was in paradise, he didn’t even care about the book he just wanted to hear you talk without reservation. His focus was on the way your eyes lit up, the genuine smile on your face, how does he try to make this moment last forever? He pays attention to every word you utter, asking the right question to keep you going, even making a joke here and there and feeling so pleased with himself when you laugh. 
How did the relationship regress back so far that he felt like this was the start of it, like he was still pursuing you to give him a chance, like he had to work up the courage to ask you out all over again. The answer of course was in their mistakes, the thought dampens his mood but he pushes it away. He didn’t know when he would get another moment like this, he had to soak it all in and cherish it before it was over. 
Your defences go up when you spot Jimin bringing Taehyung to you, the shorter male holding his hand guiding your bear like boyfriend in front of you. You look at them both expectantly, wondering what the theatrics were for. Taehyung sniffles, his face hanging low, his red hoodie pulled down as far as he can get it to hide himself. 
“Taehyung has something he wants to say Heaven- I mean angel- I mean Y/n,” he corrects himself repeatedly with a shake of his head, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at the blunder, but he wouldn’t apologise for it even it that made him a hypocrite for what he was making Taehyung do. 
He pushes his friend gently, encouraging him to speak.
“Tae?” you say gently, remembering how harshly you spoke to him the other day. 
Apparently that was all it took for the man to break down into tears in front of you, falling to his knees as he bawled. Your jaw drops in shock at the action, but you’re more surprised at the fact he holds himself back from launching into you for comfort. 
You can see how hard it is to do so, he’s hugging himself, but his nails dig into the fabric of his clothes. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. You give him a second to compose himself, the sobs turning into little hiccups as he wipes his face with his sleeve. 
When he looks at you it's your turn to grip the armrests of the chair with all your might, those glassy eyes beg you for love and it takes everything not to smother him in your embrace. But that would undo all the work you’ve been doing, you had to talk it out first and then maybe if this was resolved you could reward him with physical affection, just a little. 
“I-I’m sorry,” he says through a hoarse voice, the sound only breaking your resolve further. “About the other day, I s-should’ve asked first.”
He tries to take a deep breath in but it’s shaky, for some reason what he wants to say next breaks him out into more tears. He covers his face as he cries, Jimin rubbing his back providing him with the comfort you couldn’t give just yet. 
“Doyouhateme?”
The muffled question breaks your heart, Jimin can see it on your face and it has him fighting down a smirk. He may have played a hand at manipulating the situation, convincing Taehyung this was the best way to get back into your good books.
“Tae no,” you breathe, eyes watering but you blink back the tears. You didn’t want to show them any weakness anymore. “I don’t hate you.”
You sigh, eyes to the ceiling, as if begging for control over yourself as you try really hard to not give in to the feeling of wanting to crawl into his lap and hold him. 
“I just really needed some space that day,” you explain, “and you caught me at a bad time.”
That wipes away Jimin’s elation, all this talk about space and distance, it already felt like you were living on Mars. How much space did you want? In his opinion there had been too much space, that was the problem, or were you forgetting the long agonising months of your absence? 
Taehyung nods, thankfully retaining your attention away from Jimin who couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face. 
You can’t sleep, tossing and turning from your side to your back and then to your side again. Were you fighting a losing battle? Were you being unfair in asking them to change? You remember cases of forgotten wives refusing to leave their no good husbands, the amount of inane times you heard the cries of ‘I can get him to change’... had you become one of those women? Then of course came the others, the women who knew they could not work miracles on their partners and gave up. Some left, some stayed, and you remember watching them all in the years of your career, arrogantly thinking it would never be you, no man would ever trap you like this. There was a joke in there somewhere, one man certainly didn’t, but seven did. 
The knock on the door thankfully interrupts your endless circle of pity, a meek Jungkook peeking around as he opens the door. Something about the scene felt familiar but the shoe was on the other foot. He was waiting for permission to come in, you don’t know why the sight made you smile, made you warm. 
If anyone was proof that they were trying for you it was Jungkook, Yoongi had kept his distance out of respect for your rules, you know he only did so because he couldn’t help himself if he got too close. Jimin was similar although, you could see he was keeping his distance mentally, angry with you and your conditions. It would pass, you were sure, or at least you hoped. 
Jungkook was the only one that accepted everything without complaint, and you knew it wasn’t easy. You were so grateful to him for it, for respecting your boundaries sincerely, for giving you hope that this relationship could be salvaged. 
He almost trips over himself when you pull the covers back wordlessly, inviting him in, the stumble of his legs as he races towards you makes you giggle. He climbs in without hesitation, about to reach out for you but he stops himself, eyes looking up at you, wanting to ask you out loud but too afraid to. 
“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, as if talking loudly would break the peace you felt with him there, that you’d second guess yourself.
Arms you’ve longed for wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. You hold him back gently, not letting yourself get lost in him the way you wanted. In the darkness, your gazes meet, talking loudly in a way filled the silence. 
“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out hard, unable to hold it in any longer. 
“I’ve missed you too,” you admit.
He bites his lips to refrain from saying anything else, to break the illusion that everything was okay.
“I used to think I understood your darkness,” you murmur, stroking his hair out of his face.
He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest, the youngest didn’t like how that sentence was going and part of him didn’t want to hear the rest.
“But I don’t think I ever did,” you confess in a whisper, starting to ramble. “I don’t get it Kookie, why me? This obsession, I thought I felt it the same as you, I thought you guys understood me too.”
You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep up with your thoughts when you felt the hands of sleep trying to catch you.
“Maybe I was just trying to excuse my own darkness,” you sigh, almost in defeat. “Or maybe I just fed yours too much.”
“You gave us your love,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. “Your acceptance, you didn’t feed our darkness baby, you just didn’t see the extent of it.”
The silence is suffocating. Yoongi normally appreciates it but in this situation it was unsettling. They’re all in the living room, some pretending to do their own thing, but no one was paying any attention to anything other than you. Yoongi and Namjoon did so blatantly, Yoongi sitting on the couch away from you but his stare is nowhere else. This didn’t break the rules, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t soak you in with his eyes whenever he wanted. 
The others were also very obvious with their glances towards you, Jin was dusting the same spot of the living room over and over. Hoseok flipping through the tv channels with Jungkook sitting beside him, the maknae biting his lips in worry with every peek he took, a habit he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. Taehyung and Jimin uncharacteristically played chess but all the pieces were in the wrong places, arbitrarily moving them just to keep appearances so you didn’t call them out. 
And Namjoon… the man was staring daggers into your form. Elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, his chin on his thumb, his finger on his face tapping away on his cheekbone impatiently. He was supposed to be going over the papers in his lap, but they were being scrunched in his other hand. Yoongi thought he looked like a bomb about to explode, and he wasn’t wrong.
“That’s it!” Namjoon almost growls as he slams his file down, standing from his seat while everyone stares in shock at his outburst.
He walks towards you, and you meet his glare but refuse to move from the comfort and safety of the tub chair, you don’t even close your book.
“This ‘break’ is over,” he snarls, gestating with his hands trying to find a conduit for his anger. “Do you understand, little love?”
You look up at him with eyes simmering a fire he only ignited, meeting his glare head on.
“I decide when this break is over,” you say calmly, refusing to fight him at his level.
“No.”
“No?” Your brows scrunch in disbelief and anger, there goes your plan to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
You throw your book back into the seat as you rise to meet him eye to eye, although he’s still looking down at you.
“I mean…” he breathes gruffly, grazing his hand with yours at your side. “No.”
“You can’t b-“
Your voice is smothered by his lips, his soft touch turning into an iron grip as he pulls you closer, devouring you like a man starved and in his eyes that’s exactly what he was. You push him away, but he doesn’t allow for any space between you.
Even when you’re banging your fist against his chest, unable to breathe, he doesn’t budge. You’re at his mercy, only when he decides he’s had enough (for now), does he pull away.
You look dishevelled almost, breathing hard, your eyes glistening with tears. The sight shouldn’t arouse him but it does.
You have the audacity to childishly wipe his kiss away with the back of your hand, a tough swipe that does nothing to erase the force he handled you with. He chuckles, the sound makes your ears burn, feeling the warmth of shame colour them in.
The others stare with the jaws wide open, fear settling in that this was taking too many steps in the wrong direction. It takes everything not to call you back when you storm away, it takes everything not to follow. 
No one says a word, but they all glare accusingly at their leader except Taehyung, who only looks down in shame. 
“Where do you think you’re going?” Yoongi asks gruffly, sleep still in his voice.
“Out.” You respond bluntly, avoiding his gaze.
“I asked where,” he pushes when you pull Taehyung’s hoodie over your head. You were drowning in the fabric, and he pretended the sight didn’t make him ache for you. The same way you were trying so hard not to let his sleepy state bring down your defences, no matter how cute he looked in the shorts and grey top.
“What does it look like Yoongi,” your head was spinning with too many thoughts and you needed to clear it. “For a run.”
“I’ll come with you,” he says it like an offer but it’s not, you know it’s not. 
“No,” you refuse simply, finally meeting his stare. “Send one of your men to keep an eye on me, it's what you did before anyway.”
He’s quiet, observing you for a moment. You hated it when he did that, it was like he could see inside of you and yet, despite that, you felt like he couldn’t understand anything he saw. You break eye contact first, putting on your trainers while he continues to stare. Why couldn’t you read him the same, how could he still get under your skin with his silence even after all this time?
“I’ll send Jungkook,” he says as you open the door. “He’ll keep his distance.”
He doesn’t take the slam as you leave personally, he knows you just need to vent your frustrations, but because you were so isolated- sorry, because they isolated you, you had no one to vent to, no one who was objective to talk to. Physically stretching your mind would maybe do you some good. 
“Did you seriously let her go out unsupervised?” Namjoon seethes as he approaches Yoongi, quick to dial one of their men regardless of what nefarious time of the morning it was. The first call goes to voicemail.
Yoongi sighs, he was on his way back to bed, guess not.
“She deserves our trust,” he replies. “And I was about to send Jungkook.”
“It’s not about trust,” Namjoon bites back, another call unanswered, “it’s about safety, or are you forgetting our enemies hunt our weaknesses.”
“Our enemies know if they touch her they’ve signed their own death certificate, no one would dare cross us now, not with the amount of blood we’ve shed,” Yoongi groans in aggravation. “Not to mention you’ve bought out the police Namjoon.”
“But not every policeman, or Captain, or are you forgetting what we did to him?”
“You gave him a warning, he’ll behave,” Yoongi states, ready to leave the conversation but he can’t help himself with what he says next. After Namjoon’s actions last night, he was feeling a little vengeful, even if he didn’t completely mean his words. “We should’ve left him unharmed, we knew she didn’t want us to hurt him.”
The shock in Namjoon’s eyes flashes for a second before they compose themselves to a stare. He puts his phone back in his pocket, maybe Jungkook was the best one to go, you didn’t seem to punish him as harshly as the others.
The silence between the men turns the air cold, their gazes stoic but speaking volumes. Namjoon wouldn’t stand for mutiny or disloyalty, he especially didn’t stand for anyone questioning his decisions.
“He hurt her,” he explains himself patiently, “he wants to take her away from us.”
Yoongi scoffs, a humourless grin on his face as he stares back in ridicule at their leader.
“We hurt her,” he states, eyes blank of emotion, “where’s our bullet to the knees.”
If you were being honest with yourself, you hated running, you hated the way each breath burned as it filled your lungs, how each limb could feel like lead, but the pain was better than the thoughts you were trying to clear. 
You remember at the police academy, Suho and Kai used to run circles around you, but somewhere along the way your competitiveness got the better of you, and you trained harder than them both. It used to annoy you to hell that they were physically much stronger than you, but those days were some of the best. The three of you were so close, each other’s confidants when things went sour, the two you’d hang out with when a case went wrong. Now who did you have to confide in?
Maybe it’s your conscious or unconscious thoughts making your legs move in a particular direction, but you don’t realise where you’re headed until you see the sign above the door. The breakfast place… where everything went to shit a third time.
You barely glance inside as you run past but the sight of someone familiar makes you double take. Think of the devil and he appears?
His eyes catch yours when you stop in your tracks, he’s sitting at a table alone and the sight of him brings back that day like a breath after being underwater for so long. An apology is at the tip of your tongue, your eyes start to water, you know you have to keep running, if any of them finds you here with him, he’d be dead. You’re about to turn away when he waves at you, a simple smile that didn’t meet his eyes sent your way as he watches the realisation hit you.
His hand was covered in thick bandages, and your stare doesn’t leave them. There’s no thought in your mind as your legs move you into the building, ignoring the waiter's greeting as you walk towards your old Captain with dread. 
He shifts in his seat, letting you see the bandages on his leg, around his knee, the crutches resting on the seat next to him. Your eyes are wide with shock before your gaze turns into one of mournful rage. Tears start forming in your eyes as you shake.
The sense of betrayal that overwhelms you has you reaching a hand for the table, gripping the edge tight to steady yourself. 
They lied. 
They looked you in the eyes and lied. All of them, including Jungkook. You don’t let yourself sob, not when a fire burns any attachment you felt towards them to dust. 
You move your gaze from his injuries to his face, his stare never having left you. 
“Arrest them,” your voice is hoarse but without a morsel of regret, anger paving the way forward now, filling the loss you felt deep inside of you. 
They must’ve thought you were fucking stupid, they must’ve laughed behind your back, humoring you with their acts of trying to change. Fuck, you were a fool, they played you again and again and you just took it every fucking time. There was never going to be any change, and you refused to be their prisoner any longer.
“I’ll be your witness,” you say it with conviction, although a part of you grieves. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need, just send them away.”
Suho doesn’t say a word, and that makes it all so much worse. You can feel something creeping around you, shadows of them that have latched onto you, crawling all over your skin. You wanted rid of this dark energy, you wanted out. 
You don’t break his stare, not for a second, you can tell he’s deep in thought, contemplating your resolve, and if he saw a hint of uncertainty in you he would do no such thing. Why would he risk it? They hurt him, they could hurt him again. 
He reaches for his phone, and you take a premature breath of relief.
“Make the call,” he commands, handing the device to you. 
When Yoongi dragged Jungkook out of bed this morning, the maknae had begrudgingly crawled out of the house. His body ran on autopilot when he left to find you, eyes half open, yawning in the morning air. His hoodie pushes his hair to fall in his face but he’s too tired to drag the fabric back.
It wouldn’t take long to find you, he could run circles around you if he wanted but the thought of maybe spending some time with you alone made his legs pick up the pace, a goofy grin on his face as he thought about it.
Yes you were probably mad about Namjoon’s actions yesterday, not that Jungkook blamed him all that much, it was hard to stay away from you, but he was starting to understand your perspective a little more. Especially after the last time you pulled away, and he couldn’t let that happen again, he wouldn’t survive it another time. He wouldn’t blame you if you gave him the cold shoulder, he just hopes you don’t punish him because of Namjoon, deflecting your anger wherever it did damage.
He’d calm you down, he’s sure of it. He’d tell you that what their big bad boss did was wrong and he was on your side, he’d tell you that he loved you and respected you, and it didn’t matter how long you took to forgive them he was sure the relationship would heal.
He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realise how far he’s travelled, it’s only when there’s still no sight of you his grin begins to fade. He should’ve caught up to you by now, this was the route you normally take, and you knew better than to go another way.
What if… no. You wouldn’t dare leave again, you wouldn’t. Jungkook breaks into a sprint, running every route he can think of, not stopping for a moment even when his lungs and legs burn. He’s looking round like a mad man, but he can’t find you. What if something happened? What if someone got to you or hurt you? Memories flash in his mind to long, long ago when that was almost the case. What if?
Shit. A hand to his pocket tells him he’s left his phone, he couldn’t contact the others to join him. His best decision was to get back to the house asap. Jin would still have the tracker on your phone, they would find you, it was all going to be fine.
The fear that seized his heart was not fooled by such idealistic thoughts, his eyes had seen the true brutality of the world, sometimes caused by his own hands, and now his mind played a myriad of images of his little love in all the situations of pain he caused others. He always wondered if karma would catch him one day, he never thought it would take you.
He slams the door open so hard it struggles to stay on the hinges.
“I CAN’T FIND HER!” He yells into the open space of the home with all the air in his lungs.
It doesn’t take long for the hoard to assemble.
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jin yells back, reaching for his phone to track you without prompt.
Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Namjoon glares at Yoongi, the shorter man ignoring him.
“She’s probably taken another route,” he says calmly. 
“You better hope that’s all,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth. 
“What if someone’s got her?” Jimin panics.
“No,” Hoseok shuts that idea down, “everyone knows there is nowhere in Seoul to hide from us.”
“There’s always one idiot that’s willing to try, or have you forgotten the last time someone tried to take her?” Taehyung says heatedly.
“And we know how that ended,” Hoseok growls back.
The bickering among themselves grows in volume, so loud that they almost miss what Jin says. 
“What?” It’s Yoongi that dares to ask him to repeat himself, the drumming in his ears drowning the words. He must’ve misheard…
“She’s at the police station,” there’s no mistaking it this time. Jin looks solemnly at Namjoon while all their heads spiral.
“She’s not gone there of her own will,” Yoongi shakes his head in denial, “they’ve arrested her or something.”
Namjoon says eerily quiet, his breathing hard, his jaw clenched. 
“Namjoon we own the police,” Hoseok pushes, “make a fucking call see why she’s there.”
“Fuck making a call! I’m going over there,” Jungkook announces, turning back to the front door, but the sight of a police van pulling up at their mansion makes him stop in his tracks. 
“Are they dropping her home,” Jimin asks stupidly, unable to comprehend why else they would be there. 
The older four men look at eachother knowingly. 
“Should we run?” Jin asks, making Taehyung and Jimin whip their heads to stare at him incredulously. 
“Why would we run?” Namjoon breaks his silence, “they’ll take us right to her.”
As if on queue a smoke grenade rolls into the room, blasting off within seconds, covering the air. Namjoon almost laughs, they sent the fucking swat team, how ridiculous when they could’ve settled this like gentlemen.
Bodies swarm in, yelling commands and they all fall to their knees as instructed. On any other day, if you were home, these men wouldn’t make it through the door, but Namjoon was right, they were a one way ticket to finding you.
446 notes · View notes
yuyu1024 · 2 months
Text
Escape
Pairings: Yoongi × y/n
Genre/tags: Arranged marriage
Warning: 🔞🔞 smut/angst, mention of food/eating, cursing, sensual touching, making out, needy/clingy, Pet name, lies, kink, unprotected sex, Smoking, jealousy, insecurity, mention of weight&food/eating, oral (m/f receiving), mention of blood/violence
~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]
Words: 5.8k
Disclaimer:
- this story is just made up
- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊
Note: continuation of Prisoner.
I hope this is a good part 2. 🙏🏻 took me a while coz idk if i should or not. 😅 sorry guys.
(This may continue a bit more...? But please be patient 🙏🏻 as I do have work & usually I try to write before i sleep but lately i've beeen so tired and drained that I cant even function 😅)
***
Another day, another event to go to. You are wearing your best 'pretend' smile. The smile you have practiced for months, to be your default expression whenever you meet anyone in any formal event. It's not that your trying to be fake. You just want to represent your husband the best that you can. And being a shy person, this is what you can do to help yourself.
Although, you wish, that even just one time, Yoongi would show up to these events with you.
At the first month of your marriage, he did. He did that to introduce you to everybody. You could still remember how you two were holding hands and always together. Those were the days when you have spent so much time with him.
But... Now, it's just always you. Alone. Amongst everyone in the whole place, you are the only one who always arrives with no partner.
"Excuse me?"
You twirl around and find the prettiest girl you think you have ever seen in your life. She looks like a goddess.
"Ahm, yes?" Your voice sounded so weak. You haven't said a word in the last hour.
"You are the only one wearing a corsage with a hint of lilac flowers in it... I'm guessing... you are Yoongi's wife?" She asks
"Ah, yes. I am." You look down at the flower pinned on your chest
She's smiling at you. She looks sort of happy to see you. "Finally... I've met you."
You haven't said a word. You are not sure how to approach this. You have no idea who she is and why is she approaching you. Plus, You are sort of intimidated by her. She is a beautiful, a sophisticated woman. She have this energy from her that says she is different than anyone else. You could feel your difference with her. Though you are covered with all highend brands of clothing and accessories. You can still see it.
"Oh, sorry... if I'm invading your personal time..." she says, "I am a friend of Yoongi... well... an old friend... from University" she explains. "Sarang."
"Oh." You smile and bow. "Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N... I'm sorry... I've not met any of his friends yet so...I didn't know..."
"It's fine. I understand."
She looks like she came from a regal family, the same level as Yoongi. Also, her beauty.... takes your breathe away. She remind you of how you reacted the first time you saw Yoongi. In awe.
"Thank you for coming here also..." she says as she walks you around the gallery. "I hope you find something to your liking here that... would be a part of your home or either a gift to anyone you love."
As you two talk more, you learned that she's the one that threw this charity event. She gathered all these arts from known artists, to auction. She says that 100% of the earnings from it will go to the children's hospital that she have been donating ever since.
You have just met her and you are already at amazed by her. Not by just her prominent looks but also the way she talks and speaks her mind is very inspiring and uplifting. Because of her words you find it easy buying two items in the collection. You know all of the money will go and be used for something good.
You chose the items, the two that caught your attention the moment you entered the gallery. Both are paintings of a beautiful flowerfield which reminds you of your past. The field where you would always go with your friends and have picnic during summer break.
Such beautiful memory that you wish you could've not taken for granted. You wish you could re-live those moments again. And the paintings, those paintings you chose might go well in your own study room.
"It's nice meeting you..." she says, cutting you from reminiscencing your past
"Thank you too for inviting us.. though... my husband couldn't come..."
She smiles, lips pressed together. "He hasn't changed at all. Not very social and just focused on just working..."
Hmm.. The way she talks, the way she describes your husband is very detailed. She seem to know him pretty well. 'They are friends' you say to yourself but then at the back of your mind, a thought, just a tiny thought about him and her, is peaking through.
'Is she an ex of his?'
'If not an ex... probably... someone who liked him?'
I know, this is no place nor time to think about these but you can't help it.
Look at her and then you look at yourself. You two are totally opposites. From status to looks. And probably from personaly to intelligence. She is more than you. She is perfect. You think that he and Yoongi might or will get along more than you and him.
"Ahm... I ahm..." you start to feel uncomfortable with all of your self pity thoughts. You need to get a hold of yourself. "Sorry... I'll... I'll just go to the bar and have some drink..." you say as you clutch on to your dress.
"Oh. Okay." Sarang says. "You want me to accompany you...?"
You shake your head, "No... thank you... don't mind me... please go ahead and tour the rest of the guest." You say pointing at the newly arrived guests.
You turn around immediately before she could response again.
This is weird. You're not sure why you suddenly have the urge to drink. Even though you don't drink. Also because, you can't. Literally, can't.
You only drink red wine when you are offered to drink, by Yoongi of course. It's only when he asks you to join him during nights when he needs company or if you two are to discuss things about the family.
You don't drink also because you are a lightweight. You get tipsy and red easily. One time when you had more than three glasses of red with your husband, you instantly changed personality. You have no idea how and what changed besides the stories that your maid said the day after which were embarassing.
You have no recollection of anything besides the fact that you were on the sofa, inside Yoongi's home office, butt naked and only have Yoongi's blazer on you.
"Mrs. Min, what can I get you?" The cute guy behind the bar asks as you reach your destination.
"How... do you know who I am?"
He smiles, "We had the lists of the guests coming tonight... with photos." He pours water into a glass
"With details...? who can and cannot drink... I suppose?"
He nods. "Your husband noted... to not serve any alcohol to you Miss."
"Even... I want to? Or... pay?"
"I'm sorry Miss..." he says, "If you like we can offer you our non-alcohol champagne?"
You sigh heavily. You badly want to drink. Even just one glass to calm yourself. But...you can't. Yoongi have rules and you cannot avoid and disobey them.
He does give you the freedom to do whatever you want but when it comes to what not to do or what he likes, he have a handful.
1. Don't cut your hair short
2. Don't drink when he's not present nor ordered by him
3. Don't leave the house without atleast one body guard
4. Don't wear perfume (he gets dizzy)
5. Use the safeword during sex
And etc.
The rules are quite simple. Nothing to weird nor to hard to follow. It's just you compromising. And also, you do have a hard time saying no to Him.
"Thanks." You mumble, sighing as you take the glass of water and walk away from the bar.
After figuring out you can't drink to calm yourself, you decide to just go somewhere outside, away from the crowd and peaceful to get fresh air. Lucky you, you found an exit that leads you to the garden.
As time have gone by, you're not sure how long have you been there, staring at the fountain, the flowers and even starring down at your feet every now and then. You thought being out here will leave your head empty. Not worrying about anything. But then you'd catch yourself pouting and comparing yourself to all the ladies you have seen in the event, especially the last person you have talked to.
Your self pity and low self-esteem is thriving today than usual. Is it the lack of sleep? Or because of the one guy from earlier giving you a judging look that made you regret wearing the dress you picked? What happened?
These thoughts are not very helpful. Especially lately, well probably more on daily basis, you do wonder why Yoongi chose you. To marry.
They've said, more particularly his parents said, that he didn't like the ones they suggested for him; so he decided to pick you. To marry you instead of those women who is on the same level as him or close to his family's wealth.
Odd isn't it? Why would someone like him, an elite bachelor, pick a girl from a lower class family to marry? What did he see in you? What made him randomly pick you? You are not special, inexperience about life and not alluring as the other girls in his world. What did he saw? How did he even saw you? You were sure you two never met before. So did he hire someone to find a daughter from a poor family or what?
Instead of clearing your mind, you suddenly had these outburst of questions.
"What are you doing here?"
Your eyes widens after hearing a familiar voice. You didn't dare to speak. You just slowly turn your upper body around to see him, walking slowly towards you.
He's wearing a tuxedo. His hair is slightly slicked back and his scar. His beautiful scar. It's him.
You can't believe what you are seeing. He's really here. Why? He's been away for a week because of work and when did he came back?
"Y-yoongi..." you mumble, standing up
"I asked you..." he says as he stands right in front of you. Then you see his eyes darts down at your glass of water, sitting beside you. "Your bodyguard said... you asked for a drink." He looks back at you, his expression is so serious.
"I ahm... sorry..." you lower your gaze.
"You know... you can't drink."
"I'm sorry..." you whisper softly
"Let her have fun." A woman's voice says. "She just wants to have a glass of wine. It won't hurt."
Slowly raising your eyes, you see her, Sarang, standing from afar from you and Yoongi.
Her stance at this moment is unidentical to her persona earlier. It feels like she is a completely different person, though her appearance is the same. Something shifted.
"She did an amazing job.. representing you earlier." She adds
Your eyes then goes to Yoongi. You want to see his reaction to the angelic woman speaking. You are curious. No one talks to him directly like that, blunt and straight forward, even you.
Sarang is brave to talk casually to him.
"Ready the car..." Yoongi finally speaks after a monent of silence. Ordering one of his men to move.
That was it?
"I'll return the items. Keep the money. I don't care." He says while he's looking at you, straight into your eyes. Though you know, even his eyes are on you, he's not actually speaking to you.
"Yoongi le---" she tries to speak again but he didn't allowed it.
Yoongi just slightly turned his head to give her a side eye. He is not pleased. "My wife and I are leaving..." and then takes your hand to hold onto. "Let's go home..." he says that only you can hear.
"Ahm...ahh... okay." You say, lost by the sudden fierceness from him
***
"Get in." He orders you
Carefully climbing in the car, you move to the other side making sure there is a space betweem you two.
"Home please." Yoongi says to his driver as he shuts the door.
"Sir." The man answers, nodding and then pushes a button that closes the opening between the driver to the passenger seat of the car.
We are now isolated.
He looks so tired. Looks like he just came back and went straight to event to pick you up.
"I have my driver with me... you could've rested at home." You say
He sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm fine."
Did he purposely pick you up because he wants to see you? Did he missed you while he was away for a week?
Your mind is filled with questions and curiosity but you cannot dream of these questions to be real. You have to remember, he just married you because he have no other choice. There is no love in between you two. You are married by paper only that is worth a lot of money. Everything you are doing for him is to repay all of his kindness to you and your family.
This is all just a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy.
"Come closer..." he softly says. His eyes are still shut but his arm is arching, gesturing for me to take place in then. "Y/n..." he opens his eyes, calling my name. You scoot over his side. He immediately puts his arm around you, making sure you are close. "You're shaking..." he utters as he goes back to closing his eyes, resting his head back. "You're almost naked with that dress of yours..."
"Sorry..." you say looking down at your knotted fingers. "I thought it will look good....that's why I wore it."
He sighs. "You do look good..." then he shifts in his position and makes sure you're looking back at him. Then he starts leans in, to kiss you.
"Wait..."
He pauses, confused by your reaction. You have never denied his kiss before.
"I'm sorry..."
"What for?" He asks
"Well..." you look to the front, where the driver is. "Do we just kiss or..." you whisper
Yoongi didn't expect your question which made him smile. "It depends." He is looking straight into your eyes, your face are just inches away.
"He might hear us..." you whisper
"I don't fucking care." He moves forward and finally catches your lips.
***
After travelling for almost half an hour, you finally reach home.
"Welcome home, Miss..." The maid greets the second you slide out of the car. she then sees Yoongi, coming out from the other side of the car. "Master!" She bows again. "Welcome..."
They are suprised to see him. They didn't expect him to arrive with you. Looks like none of them knew he went to pick you up.
"Do we have anything to eat?" You softly ask the maid, then you realized that it's already late and that they have to rest too. "Oh... Sorry... never mind... you may go and rest." You give her a faint smile.
Then slowly walking towards the elevator, you could see your husband's reflection through the glass doors. He is busy already with his phone.
"Y/n..."
You glance up, peaking through the reflection. He is walking towards you. So you wirl around and waited for him to stand in front of you.
"Ask your assistant to remove all charities or event under the Lee's tomorrow. Even parties." He says as he undo his bow tie. "And... to not accept any invitation from them...again"
"Why?"
He didn't answer. No answer means he's serious.
"Okay..." You just answer before turning your back at him again.
Thinking about what you are in his world is heart breaking in a way. You are nothing but someone he owns. You just go with the flow of his world.
Yes you do had an idea what you've signed up for but its still shocking nonetheless how everything is unfolding and is doing.
"Aren't you getting in?"
You look up and see that he is in the elevator already, waiting.
"S-sorry..." you say before entering. You try your best to not make eye contact with him.
After both of you settled in, the maid follows and taps on level 3. That is where both your rooms are.
Oddly, Yoongi taps on the Upper ground after her. "Can you please cook something light before you leave? My wife needs to eat." He orders
"Yes, Master." She answers just in time when the elevator stops on UG.
"We'll both be down after we shower and get rested a bit."
"Understood, Master." She exists the elevator, bows and immediately walks off.
'My wife'. It is the second time he said that today. He never says that.
"Don't skip meals." He mumbles as the door closes
You didn't answer. You didn't mean to skip a meal or two today. And maybe a few days before too. You were nervous. One main reason is the dress you're wearing right now is very revealing. A satin black backless maxi dress. You wanted be perfect in the dress thats why, even though you know it's not achievable.
*pings*
The elevator door opens on level 3. You step out and about to turn to your wing when you hear him call your name again.
"Where are you going?" He asks
"T-to my room..." you sound so weak, "To shower..."
"Shower here." He says, suggesting the shower in his wing. Meaning in his room. Meaning his bathroom.
"Hmm?" You are lost in translation. Why is he asking you to shower there all of a sudden.
"To my room." And then he undo the first two buttons of his shirt.
"W-what? Why?"
He didn't say another word. He just continued to walk off towards his room leaving you.
"W-wait..." You take two steps forward but then stops.
"Y/N...." you hear the heels of his shoes stop hitting the marbled floor. His back is facing you. "I said, shower here. I didn't ask you to decide." he then turns around and you see his white top basically open now. "Will you go and shower with me or do you want me to peel that dress off you and carry you to my room?"
Flusttered by his remark, you just released an unsolicited shaky breathing. "Ahm... yes... I'm... I'm coming..."
***
[Flashback to Yoongi's side]
(Earlier... as soon as Yoongi arrived at the charity event)
Some of the people in the event went silent for a few seconds the moment they saw you enter the building. They all didn't expect you to show up since your wife was already present. But of course, they still greeted you with a smile and tried to make small talks. They want to be on your good side. They know what you are capable off. What power you hold in this world.
However, you don't care about these fuckers. You dropped by because you received a call from your wife's bodyguard that Y/N is not looking okay.
"Where is she?" You ask the man standing behind you.
"She just left the bar, Sir. And went out to the garden." He reply.
"I see."
One step, you just took one step and somebody already stands in your way to your wife.
"Look who's here."
"Sarang." You say her name, bitterly. You are not expecting her to be here.
"You have been ignoring my invites for quite some time now... I thought, helping others is one of your goals in life that's why you work 24/7?"
"I thought this event was by the Lee's?" You hiss at your male assistant.
"It is, Sir. By--"
"Lee Do-Hyun..." she cuts off the assistant. "My husband..." she proudly says. "Aww.. That kind a... hurts my feelings...that... you have no idea I got married..."
"I don't keep tab on people who's not important to me."
She scoffs but she sounded a bit insulted and her ego got hurt. But she's good at pretending that it didn't bothered her. "You say that now...but a few years ago... I was your muse..." she tries to move closer to you but your body guards stands in between quickly.
"Was." You look away from her and try to search for your wife through the window not far away from where you stand. "My mistake for socializing to a liar, back stabbing... leech like you." You say, then giving her a side eye. "I wish your husband good fortune... or that he loves spoiling you... or esle... he'll found out his wife's true color..."
You're about to walk away, again, but this bitch still wants to talk to you.
"You think... she'll not get tired of you? Of you controlling her? Especially getting married with you... with no love at all?" She snorts a laugh again. "Or maybe... she will not..." she mumbles under her breathe, "Now... It figures... why you picked someone from a low class family... someone with no choice but to stay with you because her family needs your money. I see..." she laughs again, "poor girl... if I were her, I would milk you all of your money so it will be worth it... after all she married a controlling, dominant, and a freaky person like you."
You know Y/N is not like her. She is a nice person. She's not into money like this bitch is. However, you do think about how Y/N thinks about you and her marriage to you.
You admit that you are very controlling when it comes to her. It is one of your negative trait that you cannot put away. It comes natural with you because of the life you have been brought up and your business. You want things to happen in your way and you are also possessive. You do try to controll it when it comes to her but you are not sure if you are doing it right.
Well how could you know, you never talk about it. Even with your wife. You never asked about her feelings and opinions.
"Watch your mouth." You mumble. "You might think you know me from the years we've been together. But you haven't seen half of what I can and would do... if anyone picks a fight with me.." you glare at her. "Consider this a warning."
[End of flashback from Yoongi's side]
*************
"Miss..."
Slowly opening your eyes, your eyes carefully adjusted to the light. You could see the ray of sunshine peaking through your dark thick curtains.
"Miss..."
You turn your head to the side and see your maid bowing.
"It's noon Miss..."
"Oh."
It has been a quite a few days now, since you start waking up this late. You are usually up early. You are a morning person. You also do jogs or walks around the property and sometimes go to the home gym to move, always. But something shifted in your routines.
You are tired, less motivated and no will to get up your bed.
"I think we need to call the family doctor now, Miss." The maid suggested. "You've lost a bit of weight and you look pale."
"I'm fine." You say as you push your duvet off your body and slide down off your bed. "I'll take a quick bath..." you mumble
"Understood." She is ready to come along with you.
"No... I'm fine... I'll just go alone... just prepare food for me please."
"But... Miss..." she usually prepares your bath and always stays with you there. After the little accident you had a year ago when you first experience a hot bath on the tub. You fainted because you fell asleep. Too much enjoyment and you forgot it is not good to stay long in there.
"I'll be fine." You smile and requested for her to leave
"Okay Miss... but... I will be back after half an hour to check."
"Sure."
You slept last night, wearing your silk robe and your fancy cream nightgown, his favorite. You were expecting Yoongi to come home last night as per usual schedule. But he didn't. He didn't even informed the staff that he'll not be home for a longer period.
What happened? You don't know.
The last time you talked to him was the night he asked you to come to his room and shower with him.
Everything that night was magical. For you atleast. But then you ruined it.
When you both entered his dark room, he immediately clung onto you. He held you like everything depends on it. It was more intemate and hungry than the usual and you liked it for some reason. After all the self doubt and insecurity you felt in the party, the intemacy made you feel more than what you feel.
And when he peeled off your dress from your body, you didn't expected him to go down on his knees and lick your soul out of your body. His tongue did more than you know he could do. It brought you to another level of high. And you didn't know you could screech like an animal because of it. He really made sure you are on cloud nine or even beyond that.
"Fuck me... please..." you begged him after you knees weakened and fall down the floor where he is.
"No." He said. He was sturn. "No request for tonight." He said and then he positioned you underneath him where he could properly see you crumble because of him.
"Y-yoongi... please.... I need... I want to come..." you begged
He brought you to cloud nine but then hold onto your pearls when you were about to orgasm.
"I'm punishing you right now..." he said as he lowers down and starts to run his tongue from your chest up. "Next time... don't wear any sort of revealing clothes...when I'm not around.. do you understand that Y/N?"
"Y-yes..."
"Another rule to add... are you okay with that?" He hummed the last words on your ears before he let both his hands squeeze your breast. "Answer me..."
"I don't... mind..." you were squearming underneath him. He was playing your nipples then. "I... I don't mind... Yoongi..." you repeated, pleading.
His punishment continued for another few minutes. It was too much. You were struggling catching your bliss but he's playing you. However, you are patient. You know his kinks and you know what he wants and so you do whatever and accept whatever. Coz you know it is from him.
"Scream my name." He grunted as he pounds you with no mercy.
You were holding on to his massive bookshelf on the wall, your legs were lifted and hanging over his forearm whilst he was thrusting deep in you. You were getting hurt from your back hitting the shelves but it didn't matter. You don't know why but for some reason you can endure everything just for Yoongi. Even pain.
"Nnggghhaaa..." you threw your arms around his neck as he went faster. "Please!" You cry on his neck. "Aaaahhh!!" You screamed the orgasm you have been keeping for a while. You felt relieved and content.
And as you two were catching your breath. You uttered words that surprised the both of you. You said 'I love you' to Yoongi.
It should not be a surprise. You two are married right. However since yours are different from others, those words were never said or mentioned ever after the wedding. It is like a forebidden phrase though there are no rule about it. It's like an unspoken deal that no one says those words since THIS.. YOU TWO... is just a fantasy. You two got together with no love. It is not real. You are just one of his property.
And so, after that night. That magical night for you ended up into this cold, quiet and empty prison. Again. You are back to nothing.
You thought you are on a journey escaping that confinement. You thought that something is going to change. You thought... that you were wrong about him. But who are you kidding? You were just having sex like you used to. It is nothing special. It is the same crap. So you saying you love him is... worthless.
"Did I even mean it?" You ask yourself as you lay down in your hot bath. "I said it... after sex.." you are trying to understand how those words slipped out of your lips. If it all just happened because of such high from the sex.
You can clearly remember how you said it. You paused, looked into his eyes and carefully said it. You know you said it with the intent for him to hear it but when you saw his reaction. It made you realize what a big mistake it was.
"Am I having feelings for him?" You mumble as you lower yourself more into the water. "I should not right?"
You know the answer to your own quesion. Look at him even ignoring you for almost two weeks now. Who are you even kidding thinking it will have an effect on him?
After the 'I love you' incident, He eat dinners without you or he let you eat first before he comes out of his home office. And then when he leaves, he does not inform you now. You just get the news of him flying off somewhere from your maid. Even his men are being cautious with you. He must've ordered them to be distant but at the same time protect you.
How funny that these are his responses to you. You know you deserve it but you're a little bit hurt, your not going to lie.
"Who am I for him to love?" You sigh. "Maybe... I should just prepare myself for the ending of this fantasy..."
*********
"Master." The maids bows as they suddenly sees Yoongi enter the main entrance while they are all cleaning.
Yoongi have not been home for a while. He has been... busy.
"Give them all my clothes." He says to his right hand man. "Sorry if it's quite a lot today." He then says to the maids as he removes his black coat revealing his white button up shirt, stained with blood. A lot of it. No one reacted to the visual that is shown. All the staff are used to it. They know how his world is.
"Where is she?" He asks as he loosen up his tie
All the maids in the corredor suddenly turn heads to the youngest one at the end of the line. She is Y/N personal maid.
"Master." She steps forwards and bows again. "Miss is in her bath."
Yoongi frowns. "Alone?"
"Ahm..." she suddenly stutters. "Sorry, Master! She... Miss wanted to... alone... but I told her after half an hour I will go back."
"How long has she been there?" He then throws his tie on the ground.
"Twenty."
"Okay." He takes a deep breathe and tries to collect himself. "Just go and be on standby in her room. She can't stay any longer."
"Okay, Master." She bows again and briskfully walk back to Y/N wing.
"Are you not going to... visit her Sir?" His male right hand asks. "She have been messaging you since..." he pauses for a bit. "And calling too."
He didn't answer. "Ready my bath please." He orders and just continue walking his way to his room.
"Understood." The man replies
"She can't see me like this." Yoongi mumbles as he walks
"I see..." his right hand man smiles at his master's response.
"Why are you smiling?" Yoongi asks, one eyebrow up.
"Nothing, Sir."
"Just spit it out."
The right man, Mr. Kim have been Yoongi's right hand man ever since he was in his teens. Mr. Kim saw him grew up and be the man that he is now. And for sure, if something changed he would be the first one to notice
And now, the tiny changes in Yoongi's mood and decisions, He might not know or see it but it is obvious for Mr. Kim. He knows it is something about his wife.
"2nd week of your marriage, Sir. She saw you coming home with a bloody lip and injured knuckles. You said you don't give a damn if she sees you looking like a murderer."
"So? What's your point?"
"It's just lately...."
Yoongi pauses and turns around to see Mr. Kim, wearing a smile.
"What are you implying? Just... say it."
Mr. Kim bows and says, "Nothing Sir."
"Hmmm..." rolling his eyes, he continued to walk.
*****
"Miss..." your personal maid rushes in your room, "Master have return." She says.
To her suprise, she sees you standing in the middle of the room, wearing your bathrobe and a towel in your hair already.
You take a deep breathe, not letting your eyes look away from the view you are seeing from your window, a clear blue sky.
"Miss.. shall I prepare your clothes?"
You close your eyes and then removed the towel wrapped around your long hair. "Please..." you softly answer
"What do you prefer to wear today, Miss?" She asks she she begins to walk towards your walk in closet.
"A black dress..." you say as you follow along. "Maybe the one with the longer sleeves."
She nods and then continues to search for the dresses you have that matches your description while you on the other hand looks at yourself in the full length mirror while you undress from your robe.
You stare at your body and see how you thin you are. Not super thin but thinner than what you used to.
It's your own fault. You have been skipping meals when you are stressed and it's not good.
"Miss?" She then lays three dresses on the sofa in the middle, for your choices.
"The middle one." You says.
You then open the drawer for your undies to grab a black lace matching underwear.
"Ahm, Miss...?"
"Yes?"
"Are you going to eat with Master, in the dinning today?"
"Hmm... what did he say?"
"Nothing. He just asked me to stay with you when I told him you are in your bath."
"Did he say if he wants to see me?"
The maid didn't answer.
"I guess not." You scoff as you getting into the dress. "Just bring my food in my study room. I'll eat there while I do some reading."
"Understood." She bows and exists the room.
"I'm not gonna wait for him anymore." You say to yourself while looking onto the mirror. "If he's going to avoid me or ignore me... then... that's what I'll do as well..."
Starring once again at yourself on the mirror, you look at your face and then your eyes goes down to your belly.
"I have to learn to go on with my life... with or without him..." you mumble. "I should start to escape this fantasy... a dream that maybe the 'us' will be something."
Part 3 - Twilight
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wildestdreamsblog · 1 month
Text
Latibule Season 2: II
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)
Summary: In which he lost his latibule.
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: A late valentine's gift <3 I’m so sorry for taking so long. A lot happened and work is the busiest and and and life.
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Masterlist, Latibule 2.I
“Hyung, did you hear me? I said-"
Kim Namjoon sighed from the other line, headache already creeping up his temples from the boatload of information Jimin was dumping on him on the other line. As who he considered to be the only sound and sane one among the seven, Namjoon was accustomed to being the voice of reason, getting the boys out of tight illegal situations, and managing the members. Min Yoongi might be the head of the mafia, but all seven of them were leaders in their own right and fields.
Seokjin was the head of the medical field, Namjoon of the twisted world of law, Jungkook of the technology world.
And this definitely was one of Namjoon’s specialties: stopping the fearless and heart-stricken leader of Bangtan from kidnapping a woman in broad daylight. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even against the illegal act itself, but could he just do it when there weren’t eyes watching him?! When the sun wasn’t at its highest?! When he wouldn’t be tomorrow’s headline?!
He ran his hand through his disheveled hair, glaring at the eldest hyung who was chuckling to himself. Seriously, he thought doctors were supposed to have no life and no time to annoy their friends? Why then was the Chief of the hospital barging in his office and lounging on his fancy sofa?
“I’m glad you found this amusing, hyung,” he commented dryly which only made the eldest laughed harder. “This isn’t something to laugh about.”
“What?! We all know something is definitely wrong with Yoongi. This isn’t news to us! This only confirmed our suspicions!”
“You could at least be supportive of what he’s going through right now.”
“Namjoon,” he started when he was finally done laughing, wiping the tears from the side of his eyes. “How do you expect me to be supportive of him right now? He’s on the verge of kidnapping a woman because he thought she looked like her. Does that make sense to you?”
He tilted his head before standing up, his movement elegant as he crossed the room to where Namjoon was sitting behind his desk. He smiled down at him, his hand supporting his weight as he leaned down on his wooden desk. “Dead people don’t exactly come back to life after burning from a fire as immense as that one, do they?” he asked, his tone light yet his eyes held faux curiosity. And at that moment, an air of danger surrounded the office. He could see the coldness that reflected on Jin’s eyes.
Namjoon knew when to back down, especially when Jin was in this mood. It was almost comical how quickly Jin’s emotions could switch, and it was definitely not amusing how bloody the effects could be. He wasn’t exactly the mafia prince for nothing. He, of all people, knew how perceptive and strategic Jin was. Never once did he do anything without a reason. And precisely because of that that it took him a moment before he answered. He lowered his eyes for a second before returning to Jin’s now amused ones. “They don’t, hyung.”
Jin nodded before turning to leave, his hand was in his pocket, his stance relaxed as though nothing was amissed. He had opened the door when he paused as though he remembered something. He twisted his body, his eyes trained on the famous attorney before his lips twisted into an entertained smile. His finger was now resting on his lips.
“Ah, unless they’re actually not dead.”
—-
Min Yoongi was like a man possessed, never leaving any stones unturned as he religiously looked for his angel.
He looked at every single piece of record of the town that the town had, employed several people to look for you, searched every available CCTV to trace any evidence that you existed, that you weren’t merely a figment of his imagination, that you weren’t merely indication of his declining sanity. Yet all roads lead to nothingness.
It was like any leads he got were mere fragments, offering little clarity or direction in the investigation. Likewise, it seemed as if someone was making sure that he’d go nowhere with the little pieces of evidences he was able to gather of your existence.
As days turned to weeks and to months, he was starting to be convinced that you were just his imagination playing tricks on him, that his mind was just too cruel to conjure an image of you, that it was just too sick to think that you came back to him. In this moment of profound longing, when the ache of your absence weighed heavily on his twisted soul, he couldn’t help but ponder about his choices in life.
On some days when he missed you the most, he thought that this must have been his karma for living his fucked-up life brutally. On a day like this when he should have been celebrating your birthday, when you were supposed to turn a year older, when you were supposed to be by his side as you blew your candle, he thought that this must have been his penance, a consequence of the twisted journey he had decided to walk on.
But wasn’t this just too painful?
Wasn’t his punishment too cruel to have the world gave him you, only to wretch you away from his arms?
Wasn’t it too cruel to have loved and lost you?
Yoongi let out a humorless chuckle, the puffs of smoke coming from his lips as he looked at what once was your home. It was your birthday, and tomorrow was your second death anniversary.
How he survived the existence without you, he would never know. He decided that he would never stop looking for you because accepting that you were gone from this fucking earth was not an option. He could feel inside the dead heart of his that yours were still beating. He knew a love as immense as what he felt for you wouldn’t die as easily as that. No.
Min Yoongi would find you.
“Happy birthday, my angel,” he whispered to nothingness, only the moon bore witness to his greeting, the night enveloped him in a solitary embrace. The echoes of his sentiment lingered in the air, hoping that his words reached you where you were.
---
“Happy birthday, eomma,” Jung Hoseok finished the song lightly, clapping the chubby little hands of your son in sync with the tune of the song. Your son was giggling as he bounced him on his lap, looking over his long lashes to Hoseok.
“Careful, the candle’s just in front of you,” he warned before shuffling the cake an inch closer to you. He came home almost an hour ago from his work in the docks with a box of cake in his hands he bought. You could no longer count how many times the three of you moved over the year, the last one being the most suspicious to you when after you came home from the market, he had already packed your bags. Before you knew it, he was already driving away from the town.
You lived in so many places.
You never felt at home in any of them.
It was unfair how you only felt at home when you were in his arms.
You clutched your walking stick on one hand, the other cautiously running your hand on the table to detect the cake’s placement.
“I’m not fully blind yet, Hoseok,” you admonished him teasingly before closing your eyes and wishing with all your heart that your son grew up happy. You wished to the heavens that his fate was kinder to him, that he didn’t have to suffer the way you did. You prayed that his fate was free from the shadows that haunted your own past.
You wished that he could live the life he deserved.
“Eomma,” he called for you, lifting his chubby arms to go to you. Hoseok cooed at him before lifting him to your lap carefully. You felt the warmth of his little arms encircling your neck, tiny lips pressing sweet kisses on your cheeks before erupting into giggles. "Eomma!"
A smile graced your face as you soaked in the pure joy radiating from your beloved child. Leaning in, you planted a loving kiss on the person you now cherished most in the world. His eyes lit up in response, a mirror image of his father's, carrying the same warmth and affection he did when he looked at you.
Hoseok watched the two of you from his seat. It was almost comical how he loathed your son’s father with all his heart, only to love his son with the same intensity. If he couldn’t end that bastard brother of his, if he didn’t have it in him to finish the job and kill you, then he would just take the life Yoongi was supposed to live.
He would never let go of the two of you- not when he found peace in this little family. The only way he would let go of this was if the only person he loved came back to him. But that was impossible, right? After all, Yoongi made sure that she would cease to exist in this world.
Wasn’t this the crueler revenge, he thought. Wasn’t this what Min Yoongi deserved?
It was almost amusing to think how he could have been dead if not for one of his brothers that saved him and you that fateful night. He could have almost missed this little slice of heaven had it not been for his brother, the only one who knew that he was still alive.
---
Almost two years ago, somewhere in a small province of South Korea
You woke up with a start, your heart beating faster as evidenced by the spike in the heart monitor attached on your bruised skin. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, attached to your bruised skin, echoed in the room, its pace mirroring the accelerated beat of your heart. The sudden awareness left you momentarily disoriented, and the sterile environment around you hinted at the gravity of the situation. As your senses sharpened, you couldn't shake the feeling that the throbbing in your chest was not only from the abrupt awakening but also from the lingering echoes of a disconcerting dream or a painful reality.
Every single thing that happened went back to you.
Every single detail of that night, of the way he smiled so tenderly at you, of the way he softly told you that he would be back, of the way a strange man entered your house and threatened you.
The recollection was vivid, etched into your consciousness like a haunting melody.
You remembered the way Suga’s face became cold the moment he saw that man. You remembered not seeing even a trace of the man you loved.
You remembered the truth and the pain that came with it, and then you remembered thinking it was your end. Beyond it all, beyond all the betrayal, lies and deceit that unfolded, you remembered wishing that he would be fine after all of that like the fool you were.
Wincing, you lifted your fragile hand to your shoulder, feeling a faint pain where the bullet had pierced your skin.
“Don’t move,” a tired voice sounded on your left. Startled, you turned to look at the source, only to find the man who attempted to kill you leaning against the wall, his own arm bandaged, his handsome face colored with faint bruises.
Hoseok didn’t come out of it unscathed, no. He looked so hallow. It was like he was a lost child, like a man that lost his purpose, like he was a shell of what once was a soul.
He must have seen your alarmed expression. He waved his other arm, his jaw clenching from the events that transpired. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
You blinked at him, never trusting a word that came out of his mouth. It would be difficult for you when you saw how he unleashed hell that night.
“I-I,” you swallowed, your dried throat making it harder to speak. “d-don’t believe y-you.”
He watched you for a moment before nodding his head. That was fair, he thought. “How are you feeling? You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”
What?
“Y-you waited that long to kill me?” you asked, your voice hoarse as you sat down. If he was going to end you, then you wouldn’t take it lying down.
Wordlessly, he crossed the room, lifting the glass of water on your bedside table, the straw turned to you. “Drink.”
You glared at him, distrust and anger in your eyes as you met his emotionless ones.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
You scoffed, turning your head away from him to look at where on earth you could have been. The hospital room was small, the window offering no clue as to your whereabouts. You wondered where Suga could have been.
Did he make it out alive?
Was he hurt?
Was he looking for you?
Did you want him to after what you knew?
“I do draw the line on killing expectant mothers.”
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Latibule 2.III
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hollyhomburg · 1 month
Text
Before I leave you (Pt.67)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).
Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,
W/c: 12.5k
A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3
Previous part - Masterlist - First part
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Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.
Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.
The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-
Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.
There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-
You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.
Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.
He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.
Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.
Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.
But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).
There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.
But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.
No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).
It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.
It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.
"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."
They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.
“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.
Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”
A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.
He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.
Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."
Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.
“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”
“Fuck my stitches hyung.”
Numb fingers meet numb faces.
He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.
That’s my girl.
He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.
Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.
"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"
Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.
“Kookie-”
Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.
Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?
The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.
Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.
Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.
Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.
Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.
And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.
There isn’t much to say.
Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?
The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.
That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.
There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.
“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”
Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“
Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”
“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.
“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.
“Do you think we can wait that long?”
“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.
You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.
Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”
Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”
But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.
Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.
Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.
“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”
Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.
“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”
They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.
But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?
(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)
It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.
Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.
Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.
"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."
The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.
Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.
(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.
Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)
Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.
When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.
"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"
Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.
Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."
He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.
Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”
Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.
Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.
The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.
If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?
Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.
He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.
Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.
Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.
He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.
“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”
Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?
He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.
But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?
Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.
The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.
Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.
The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.
Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.
Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?
Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.
Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.
Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.
With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.
In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.
Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.
In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.
~-~
Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.
So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.
He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.
Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.
Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.
You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.
The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.
Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.
Namjoon apologizes after every wince.
The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.
Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.
"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.
You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-
You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-
Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.
You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.
When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.
Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.
“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”
“Namjoon-”
He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.
The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.
And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.
When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.
Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.
Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.
Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.
You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.
Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.
Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.
You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.
Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.
Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.
You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.
You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.
Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.
Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.
Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.
Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.
He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.
Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.
Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.
Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.
"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."
Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.
“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.
Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.
You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.
"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.
"No, I've got them.”
“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”
"Guys"
They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.
The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.
It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.
You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.
For a second, no one says anything, but then-
“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.
"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.
"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.
Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.
You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.
Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.
Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.
He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."
Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.
"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”
With you, it's going to take a little longer.
Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.
“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?
The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”
You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.
You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.
Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.
Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-
“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.
“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."
You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.
"Don't scruff me."
"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.
“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-
Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."
You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.
“Yoongi.”
“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.
Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”
He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.
Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.
He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”
Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.
If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.
(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).
Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.
You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.
A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.
It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-
Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.
Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.
Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.
~-~
Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.
Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.
Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.
Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.
You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.
Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.
You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.
The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.
There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.
One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.
“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“
"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"
"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"
“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”
Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.
The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.
You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.
It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.
You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.
The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.
The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.
You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.
You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.
Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.
“Did you like your courting present pup?”
Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.
In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.
Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.
You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.
She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”
“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”
You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.
You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.
“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.
“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”
"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.
“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"
Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.
"Even if I’m not here.”
For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.
But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.
“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."
You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.
I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.
“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”
Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.
Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.
It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.
You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.
“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."
"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”
The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.
~-~
(Hoseok, a few years prior)
The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;
A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.
A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.
Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.
Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.
Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.
Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?
Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).
It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).
(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)
Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."
He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.
“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.
It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.
Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.
Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.
Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.
Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"
Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.
His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."
"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."
But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.
That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.
It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.
At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.
Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.
Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.
“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.
Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.
It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.
Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.
(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)
“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”
“How much did he steal?”
“300k”
Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.
“A finger for every 100 then.”
The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.
“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”
“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”
“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”
Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.
“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”
"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.
"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.
Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."
Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.
Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?
They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.
Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.
“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.
They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.
Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.
“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.
Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”
“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)
“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."
"Is he underaged?"
"No, he's just got health issues."
"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.
He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.
Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."
And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.
(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.
Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.
Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.
All packmates of a Don get put on the list;
no matter if they're active or past.)
Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.
If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).
It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.
By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).
He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.
And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.
As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")
Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.
Pack Omega 🌙 calling.
Pick up? Decline?
Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.
Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.
“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”
Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.
Even when you know it could hurt you.
Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”
Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Moonbyul please-”
“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.
It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.
It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."
Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.
His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.
“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."
Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”
~-~
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Notes:
in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.
every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.
(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.
i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.
are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈
….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3
also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.
what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard
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btsugarush · 10 months
Text
GANGSTA | myg - 003
summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni
warnings for this chapter: attempted sexual assault.
authors note: sorry if you asked to be tagged but weren’t. some accounts wouldn’t let me tag, so if you asked but you’re not here it’s likely because tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you.
word count: 3.3k
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The erratic sound of banging on your front door startles you, nearly causing you an untimely death as you almost had a slip and fall in the shower. You regain your balance, groaning in the process as it didn’t take a village to figure out who exactly was pounding on your door at this time of night. You turn the valves, shutting off the water before grabbing a towel from the towel rack and wrapping it around yourself. 
You step out of the tub, your wet feet pattering on the living room floor to let in who you could only assume was Mina. You pull open your front door, and Mina speeds past you without saying a word. “Mina, it’s late. What are you doing here? You know I have work tomorrow,” You frown, shutting the door. 
When you turn to your friend, you notice her eyes were bloodshot red from crying. “Woah… what's wrong?” You scrunch your eyebrows, now feeling worried. “I think Jin is cheating on me.” She sniffs. Your eyes widened, and your mouth dropped open in shock. Jin? Cheating on Mina? You somehow found that hard to believe. Jin was in love with Mina. 
“How can you be sure? Did you catch him?” She shakes her head, plopping down on your couch. “No. It’s just that he’s been acting so weird lately. He’s anxious, jumpy and he’s always checking his phone. He’s been so secretive.”  You make a “tsk” sound, grabbing a chair from your table to pull up across from her, not wanting to sit your wet body on your couch. “You’re overthinking this. You said yesterday that he’s struggling with work, so it’s only plausible that he’s stressed and anxious.” 
“Yeah, but he just doesn’t seem like himself. I’m worried he’s going to leave me.” 
“Mina, Seokjin loves you. I’d be surprised if he was cheating. The guy literally worships the ground you walk on.” You smile softly, trying your best to reassure her. “He doesn’t seem to worship the ground I walk on much lately…” she wipes away the stray tears on her cheeks. “So talk to him, see where he’s coming from. Give him an ultimatum if you have to, I don’t know. But don’t assume the worst.” 
Mina lets out a heavy sigh, slowly nodding her head. “I guess you’re right…” you knew you were right. Jin wasn’t even the type of guy to sneak around. He was always calling you in regards to Mina. What to buy her for her birthday, Christmas, Valentine’s Day. It just didn’t seem likely. “Can I sleep over tonight? I’ll drive you to work tomorrow.” You couldn’t refuse the offer, it beats taking the bus. 
“How can I say no when you drive such a hard bargain?” You chuckle, standing up from the chair and dragging it back to your table. “Did I interrupt something?” Mina asked, just now noticing you were wrapped in a towel. “Only my shower.” You walk back into your bedroom, pulling open your wardrobe to grab a nightgown. You slip on the gown before lazily tossing your towel atop of your dresser. 
Mina comes into your room after you’re dressed, throwing herself into your bed. “How was work today?” She asks. You grimaced. You didn’t even want to think or talk about work after what happened with Yoongi today. That guy seriously gave you the creeps. “Same old, same old until Mr. Kim made me deliver food in Gongdan.” 
Mina gasped, sitting up in your bed. “You went to the devil’s playground?” You nodded, climbing into bed with her. “Yes, and that isn’t even the worst part. The person I was delivering to was that psycho Yoongi.” Mina gagged upon hearing the raven’s name. “I’m still creeped out from your altercation with him and his gang yesterday. What a coincidence.” 
“I wouldn’t quite call it that…” you mumble, your mind wandering back to him knowing the details of your personal life. “What do you mean by that?” She raises a brow. You bite down on your bottom lip, contemplating on whether or not you should tell her about Yoongi and his “connections”. Mina wasn’t the type of person to handle news like that lightly. She’d be freaked out constantly looking over her shoulder. 
“Nothing, I’m just overexaggerating.” You played it off.  “I should get to bed. Don’t wanna collapse on the job tomorrow.” You stood up from your bed to switch off your lights before climbing back in to snuggle under your blanket. “Goodnight.”
“Night.”
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“I’ll pick you up when you’re off, alright?”
“Sounds good. See you, Mina!” The blonde waves goodbye before pulling off. Hopefully she takes this time off to talk to her boyfriend, you could tell she was still sad about it. You enter Makoto, the door dinging as you do. “Oh, kid, thank god you’re here. I thought you were going to call off too.” Mr. Kim says upon your arrival; the older man was on the floor taking orders. “Too? Jimin isn’t here?” You frown, looking around for the brunette. 
“No, that unreliable little shit called off. Apparently he has the flu. So hurry up and clock in, then come take over these orders.” You nod, walking to the back of the kitchen. You grab a time card and swipe it through the clock before taking an apron from the hook. As you’re tying the cloth around your waist, the kitchen phone begins to ring. “I got it.” Mr. Kim says, appearing from the cut. 
You grab a notepad and pen from the pen holder, taking Mr. Kim’s place on the floor. There weren’t a lot of people in today, nor did you have a lot of orders to take considering Mr. Kim had already taken most of them. You were shocked that Jimin called off today. He never missed a day of work, you would’ve thought he was immune to any kind of disease. 
“Well, aren’t you a better exception than the old man.” A young brunette says as you approach his table. He’s sitting across from a woman, who doesn’t seem to mind his eyes raking up and down your body. She must’ve been his friend, and not his girl. “Can I get you anything?” 
“Your number.” He chuckles. You roll your eyes, letting out a sigh. You didn’t have time for this. “My name is Taehyung, beautiful. But you can call me Tae.” He bites down on his bottom lip in a sultry way. You shake your head, turning your attention to the girl instead as you saw you were getting nowhere. “Ma’am, can I get you anything?” 
“I’ll just take some water, nothing else.” You write down her order, slowly nodding your head.‘You could’ve had water at your house.’ You thought, feeling as though these people were here to waste your time. You turn back to the man, Tae, seeing if he was finally ready to put aside the flirting and order something. “Now can I get you anything?” 
“Rice cakes.” He replies dryly, looking off put at the fact you rejected him. He must not get too many rejections. You write down the order, throwing a smile their way. “I'll be back with your orders.” You stumble off into the kitchen, catching Mr. Kim stuffing a brown bag into a plastic one. “We’ve got another delivery order today.” He says, holding out the bag for you to take. You look from Mr. Kim, to the bag in his hands. “No way. Last time I went it was that thug, Min Yoongi.” You crossed your arms, refusing to take the bag. 
“Yeah, so what? Like it or not, he’s still a customer. We can’t refuse people just because we don’t like them.”
“It’s more than that, Mr. Kim–” 
Mr. Kim cuts you off before you’re able to continue protesting. “Take the damn order, y/n.” You sigh, snatching the bag from the older man’s hand. When you check the order, you’re not surprised that it’s the same address you went to yesterday. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Mr. Kim knew that Yoongi was stalking you, but he was too scared to put his foot down. If Jimin was there, he’d be the one doing deliveries. Was he actually sick?  You weren’t so sure anymore. 
You exit the kitchen through the back door, same as yesterday. As you pick up the red bike from the ground, you ponder on whether or not you should truly go to the address. You could just ride around, eat that jerk’s dumplings and then come back to work as if you made the trip. ‘What if that asshole calls though? He’ll probably get me fired.’ You pout. Guess you didn’t have a choice. Maybe you’ll just ring the bell this time, sit it out front and leave before he comes out. 
You mount the bike, tie the bag to the handle just as you did the other day and ride off to Gongdan. You didn’t use your GPS this time around, seeing as you knew exactly where the destination was. As you cross over into the devil’s playground, you notice the same group of men standing on the corner smoking weed again. They watch you, whispering something amongst themselves. 
‘Is this a daily routine for them?’ 
As the streets get emptier in this general territory, you knew you were close. For some reason people never seemed to venture where Yoongi’s little headquarters were, except for a few homeless folks. You make a turn, coming up on the warehouse. You ride your bike around to where you remember the front door was, and your face goes grim. 
Yoongi was standing outside, puffing on a cigarette. The raven notices you pull up, and a smile forms his face. So much for leaving the damn food in front of the door. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite delivery girl.” You halt the bike, kicking forward the brakes before dismounting. You hand the raven his food, which he takes. “What? Not speaking to me?” 
You keep your mouth closed, not giving him the satisfaction of you bantering back and forth. You don’t get very far before he’s stopping you from getting onto the bike. “Hey,” the raven grabs your wrist, twirling you around to face him. “I’m talking to you. I don’t take well to being ignored.” 
You snatch your wrist away from him. “And I don’t take well to being stalked. I thought I told you to leave me alone?” Yoongi smirks. “And I thought I told you I get what I want?”
You scoff, crossing your arms. “You may get what you want, but I won’t be one of them. Next time you call my job under false pretenses, I’m not showing up.” You climb back onto the bike, kicking back the brakes before riding away from the warehouse. You don’t even spare a second glance at the man. 
How long was this going to go on for? Was he constantly going to call on you for deliveries on your work days? Perhaps you should adjust your schedule. That way he wouldn’t know what days you worked. Your mind was so clouded with Yoongi that you neglected to pay attention where you were going. You end up making a hard stop as you notice a man in your pathway. “Hey!” You shout at him. “Don’t you know not to stand in the middle of a bike lane?” 
The man doesn’t respond, casually spitting on the ground. You squint your eyes, the stranger looking vaguely familiar. It then dawns on you; he was one of the men that stood on the corner smoking weed. You feel slightly uncomfortable as the guy made no effort to speak, or even move out of your way. “Okay… guess I’ll just go around you then.” You try to maneuver around him, but he blocks your path again.
“What’s your problem? Move.” You say, once again trying to go around. Unfortunately it was all to no avail. You decide to back away instead, but bump into a figure. “Going somewhere?” Another man vocalizes from behind you. Your heart thumps against your chest, knowing no good was going to come from this situation. “We’ve seen you come down this way twice now. Not many girls like you ride through here.” The guy who blocked the front of your bike finally speaks with a gruff voice.
“Look… I don’t want any trouble. I’m just trying to get  back to work.” You tell the guys, attempting to maintain a calm composure. You didn’t want to look as afraid as you felt. They both laugh, sharing a look of amusement with each other. “Heard that, Yejun? She doesn’t want any trouble.”
“Guess she shouldn’t have come to Gongdan then.” 
You look between the two men, trying to come up with some course of action to get out of this predicament. You’re hardly able to make a move before you're suddenly snatched from the bike and being dragged into an alleyway. “Let go of me!” You scream, thrashing your body to get free. “She’s a feisty one, huh?” They simultaneously cackle. 
You notice that the rest of the men you’ve seen standing on the corner were in the alley as well. This was surely premeditated. You're roughly thrown to the ground, two men immediately taking action to pin your arms down before you could get up. “Get the fuck off of me!” You screech, kicking your legs. “Hey, Jiwon, hold her legs down.” One of the guys instructed. Your legs were suddenly held down; you were completely restrained, and at the mercy of these sick men. 
“Stop! Let go!” Another man is straddling you, pulling out a pocket knife. “Scream all you want, girl. You’re in Gongdan, no one’s gonna come to your rescue.” The man takes the pocket knife, cutting the top of your shirt. Your eyes flutter shut, tears rolling down your cheeks. ‘This can’t be happening… I can’t believe this is happening…’
“Don’t you peons have anything better to do?” A monotone voice speaks behind the men. The group turns around, coming face to face with none other than Yoongi. “Yo, it’s Agust D.” One of the guys holding down your arms whispered. ‘Agust D? Yoongi?’ You opened your eyes, lifting your head to see the raven leaned against the brick wall, his hands in his pockets as he eyed the men. 
“Get off her and get the fuck out of here.” He says in a calm, but warning tone. The stoic look on his face unwavered. All the men spared glances with one another, mulling over the threat. The guy with the pocket knife nods, flipping the blade closed before climbing off of you. The men released you, dipping off down the other end of the alley, avoiding Yoongi at all cost. You were surprised they actually listened to him, seeing as there were more of them than there were of Yoongi. He must really strike fear into people’s hearts. 
You sit up from the ground, staring down at your ripped shirt in embarrassment. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling. Yoongi approaches your shaken figure, crouching down to your level. You look up at him, and the raven tilts his head slightly. “So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept a ride today?” 
You sigh, slowly nodding your head. You didn’t think you could ride back on the bike after this. Yoongi stands up, extending a hand for you to take. You stare at this hand, your mind only thinking about all the blood that’s probably covered it once before. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta get back to work, don’t you?” 
You hesitantly take his hand, letting the raven pull you up to your feet. “H-how did you know I was back here?” You ask him curiously. “I saw your bike.”
‘Yeah right, you were following me…’
With your hand still in his, Yoongi leads you to his black Nissan Sentra. He opens the passenger door for you, and you climb in. The raven rounds the other side of the car, grabbing your bike from the bike lane. He opens the back door, adjusting his seats so he could fit the bike in. “That’s as good as it’s gonna get.” He mumbles, shutting the back door. 
He finally climbs into the driver’s seat, slamming his car door close. You sit quietly as the car peels off. “Are you hurt? Did they–” 
“Can we just not talk and sit in silence?” You cut him off. As if this jerk really cared about you. It’s his fault you were at the devil’s playground in the first place. The raven nods marginally, sitting in silence per your request. As the two of you kept the peace, your eyes ever so slightly peered over to him. “You know,” you started. “This is all your fault,” Yoongi smiles as though he knew you weren’t going to keep quiet. That just didn’t seem like your style. “If you hadn’t called me down here again, I wouldn’t have been assaulted.”
“So much for silence.” He chuckled.
“You think because you're a self proclaimed bad boy, with a horrific rep, and a cute smile that girls are supposed to fall at your feet. Well, I refuse to be one of them, okay? So, give it up.” The raven now has his eyes on you, a grin on his face as if he enjoyed your little outburst. “You done now, sweetheart? Did you get it all off your chest?” You huffed, looking out of the window. “Good.” The car goes mute again,  and you gently bite down on your bottom lip. You wanted to ask the raven questions that had been on your mind since you met him, but you were afraid of his reaction. You decide to take the risk anyway, considering your circumstances.
“Is it true what people say about you?” 
Yoongi quirks a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, princess. People say a lot of things about me.” You look away from the window, facing the man of many names. “Have you… killed people before?” You watch Yoongi’s facial expression change; it’s serious, dark. “If I’ve killed people do you really think I’d tell you?” 
You shrug. “Probably not, but If you haven’t it would be a simple no.” The raven looks over at you, his eyes boring into yours. “No. I haven’t.” 
One would feel relieved upon hearing that, but for some reason you didn’t quite believe him. Not with the way people seemed to stop breathing at his very presence.
Yoongi pulls up in front of Makoto, getting out of the car first to wedge your bike from his backseat. You open your door, following suit as you move around the car to take the bike from the raven. He closes the car door, leaning his back against it. The two of you stand in silence for a moment before you let out a deep sigh. “Thanks… for getting those guys off of me. Even though it’s your fault.” You mutter the last sentence. Yoongi smiles. “Don’t mention it, Princess. Maybe you can thank me in another way sometime.” 
He pushes himself off of the car, pulling open his driver’s door. “You got something wrong about me yesterday in your little autobiography,” Yoongi stops, raising an eyebrow at you. “Jungkook isn’t my boyfriend. Yet.” You inform him. The raven hums. “Noted. That makes this even easier.” 
“Easier?” You deride. “You really think you have a chance with me, don’t you?” 
Yoongi shakes his head. “I don’t think I do, I know I do. You called my smile cute, remember? Pretty sure I’ve already got you.” He flashes a cocky smile your way before climbing into his car. The raven looks at you one last time before driving away, and you watch as the car flies down the road, disappearing from your sight. 
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Taglist
@everestwho @sukonsukuna @ejaeee @oppa-agust-d @softlore23 @empty-and-nameless @darkphoenix5037 @agustdsslutt @nepheleindreamland @pennyellee @fairy-jojo @mysweetpianoo @elodieeluvsjk @acquiescence804 @niamscraic @secfir @judebellinghamswife @prettybitxc @forevercarpediem227 @noraaaru @bangtanxcoffee @pamzn @addictedtohobi @bex-92br @mindairy @milomai19 @pjmsneverland @wolfvmin @wertaix @hanadulset714 @honeynicoole @catlove83 @polipiper @sophiiroth @kooslilhoe @legit-min-yoongi-trash-tho @guesswhatimthinking @cynicalbitch666 @l2ovesick @cuntessaiii @aloverga @daniarafid @slut4jeon
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sugarwithtea · 11 months
Text
bounty (m) | myg [teaser]
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bounty (noun) : a sum paid for killing or capturing a person. if there was one person who annoyed you the most, it was min yoongi. but what happens when he calls you after escaping someone hired to end him? a dance, which ends in a surprising way.
pairing ; gang leader!yoongi x thug!reader (f)
rating/genre ; m (18+)//smut, angst (minor), enemies to ???
wc ; for the teaser - 470 // for the fic - 4k+
warnings for the teaser ; guns, swearing. for the fic ; explicit smut in public, knives, mentions of death, gore, murder (main characters) and many more!
note ; tread with caution ⚠️ the teaser is mild but the fic won't be (it will be very dark!) also, happy d-day dropping everyone hehe!! thanks to @cowboylikeyoongi for helping me with smth very major!!!! please let me know if you wanna join the taglist for this!
masterlist | taglist
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You stand straighter, putting your hands on your waist and chewing the end of the cigarette in your mouth. You survey the area with squinted eyes, pushing your thin jacket behind to reveal your black tee and the gun, with which your finger toys.
You had heard of this place, and how there was a big bounty on the leader of the gang who ran the place. They were dogs, fiercer than wolves, but still fucking cowards. Your boss had asked you to stay clear of the massacre, something about leaving the lowly on his own. And you obeyed, for Min Yoongi was a man who riled you up so much, that anger always lived on your nose – and the tip of your tongue.
The way you were called into the yard, you assume whoever tried to get the meaningless bounty had failed. You shake your shoulders in amusement, and take another drag from your cigarette, kicking the dust at your feet. One more minute, and if he doesn't show up you are getting the fuck out of here.
It's as if the universe heard your thought and plotted against you returning because as soon as you turn back towards the raging fire, a hand wraps itself around your neck and pulls you behind. You let out a loud snort of amusement around the cigarette as you are pulled into a hard chest, his arm around your neck and breath on top of your ear. You quickly pull your cigarette out with one of your hands and exhale, letting the smoke fog you.
As soon as you register his breath, a hard thing pokes you on the base of your throat, and you look down to see the muzzle of his gun at your throat, pressing into your skin. His arm is right above it, and you see the way his fingers wrap around the trigger guard, away from the actual trigger. You scoff at it – still a coward.
He pushes the muzzle deeper into your skin, and you feel his chest going up and down, as his hand around your neck brings you so near him, that you feel him mold against you. You arch an eyebrow and tilt your head, a laugh leaving your lips.
"Hello to you too, Yoongi.'' He hated it when you, or anyone called him Yoongi, so you did just that. He doesn't want to be related to his family, or have a semblance of their relationship with him. And there was one thing that could erase it – his name. So he changed it to Agust D.
"You came?" His voice is gruff against your ear, and you don't miss how deep it is, just like the ocean. You take a deep breath and exhale, before speaking again with a delayed snort.
"You called?"
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if you wanna join the taglist for this specific fic then lmk via comments :)) (permanent taglist peeps will be tagged in the reblogs for this one hehe 😉)
feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated! so please lmk your thoughts :))
© sugarwithtea. do not repost.
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yoonlattesworld · 1 year
Text
The spark is still there-MYG
Main masterlist
Yoongi masterlist
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Cold mafia husband yoongi x soft wife reader
💌synopsis: when a lunch date with some of your very nosy friends ends up with you remembering things that shouldn't be talked outside of the bedroom walls
💌genre/warnings:fluff, husband yoongi,mafia yoongi, established relationship, arranged marriage, dom yoongi, rough sex, cuffing, spanking, unprotected sex, cocky yoongi, sub reader, oral (f recieving),nosy friends, sir kink, doggy style,man handling(kind of?) , multiple orgasms , edging,bulge kink.
Author's pov
Placing the perfume bottle down, you took the diamond necklace from its velvet box before going to tie it around your neck but a hand stopped you and took the necklace from your hand "let me help you with that,angel" he murmured in his deep voice and you smiled softly, collecting your hair and holding them as his nimble fingers tied the delicate chain around your neck. He placed a wet kiss on your nape before wrapping his strong arms around your waist and inhaling your sweet scent. You kissed his cheek,giggling softly as he squeezed you once before rasping "mm do you want me to pick you up after your lunch?" You hummed leaning against him "won't you be busy? It's okay i can come back with the driver" you said softly and he kissed your forehead before turning you around and placing a soft kiss on your lips "how many times do i have to tell you that I'm never busy for you?" You smiled cupping his face in your soft hands giggling as he placed a kiss on your wrist.
"So will you come amd meet my friends? " you said with a cheeky smile and he sighed Chuckling raspily "sure i will doll. Call me when you're done" he hummed pulling you in a kiss "i love you yoon" you whispered against his lips "i love you too angel. So fucking much " he grunted, before pulling back even though he had half of the mind to kiss you until you can't breath. "See you later. Be careful at work" you smiled a little nervously at mention of his work. He noticed immediately and rubbed your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb before mumbling "i always will y/n. Need to come back home to you" you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him one last time.
He stared at you as you sat in the car, watching the driver closing your door and a fond smile made its way to his lips when you sent him a flying kiss. And even though it was something he would never do, he pretended to catch the kiss and placed it in his pocket just to hear your little giggle.
~▪︎~
"Y/n you made it!" One of your friends lia chirped waving at you as you made your way towards the reserved table smiling "hey you" you gave her a side hug before greeting everyone at the table. While you saw one of the lady eyeing your necklace and ring with something in her eyes,you brushed it off. After a while the table settled down and after you all placed your orders, the table was lively with normal conversation. Checking up on each other, talking about their days and giggling while complaining about our husbands. It was all going well until the topic of the conversation shifted causing you to sigh as you already quite knew what was coming next. As much as you loved meeting up with your old friends once in a while,you hated the part when they would start talking about personal life. A little too personal.
"I don't know it seems like he's not interested in me anymore. There's no spark in our marriage life like it used to be" Mei,one of your old friends rolled her eyes. She had married the earliest from your group. "Maybe because you've gotten old" lia snickered ignoring mei's whines "same here. my sex life has gotten non existent. I don't even know when was the last time we slept together " gi sung said shaking her head while you continued eating your meal silently. You have no interest in talking about your marriage life. You'd rather go home.
But it seemed like the lady who was eyeing your jewelry didn't seem to like your quietness so she cleared her throat chirping "y/n right?" You looked up smiling at lia's sister who smiled back, although it seemed a little fake to you "hello miss yoona" you smiled and she chuckled before saying "i wonder how life is going right now" you looked at her confused and she continued "your marriage was arranged right? I heard there's no spark in those marriages. And there are rumors that your husband is a quite reserved man" the table fell into hushed whispers but your smile didn't drop. Instead, you chuckled softly "i don't understand why you're so interested in my marriage and husband?" She went quiet for a moment and you could see the anger in her eyes before she smiled saying "oh no I'm just worried about you. I heard your wedding was only a small event and none of your friends were invited so it seems to me that Mr min isn't interested in your life" lia's eyes widened and she immediately shushed her and they were whispering about something but you didn't quite heard because a memory of last night passed through your mind.
~▪︎~
You took a deep breath before opening the door of yoongi's study nervously, walking inside to see yoongi with two other men. It seemed like they were in an important meeting so you immediately felt guilty for interrupting them. Yoongi looked at you for a moment and you went to apologize for interrupting them but he suddenly said "out.now" your eyes widened at his tone. He never talked to you like that. Feeling hurt and guilty you looked at him for a second before going to walk out of the room but suddenly, you saw those men standing up and bowing towards him and you before walking out the room. You looked at him surprised but he just turned his chair towards you, manspreading and rasped "come here" you walked towards him and let him pull you on his lap . "I'm sorry for interrupting your meeting " you whispered not meeting his eyes. He was silent for a moment before hooking a finger under your chin and making you look at him. He kissed your forehead looking at you with soft eyes and mumbled "you don't ever have to apologize for wanting to see me doll" you smiled slightly feeling a little shy under his gaze and wrapped your arms around his neck while his wrapped around your waist "i-i need to tell you something " his eyebrows furrowed and his arms around you tighten "what's wrong?" You bite your lip smiling shyly and whispered "I'm pregnant " his face went blank for a moment making you worry. "Y-yoongi-" but then his arms around you tighten almost possessively and he smashed his lips on yours. You gasped giggling softly as he stood up with you in his arms and kissed you harder for a second before pulling back breathing heavily. You wiped his tears with a wobbly smile, your own eyes welling up as he leaned his forehead against yours whispering "thank you..thank you so fucking much babygirl. I love you so much i love you both so fucking much " "we love you too" you whimpered kissing him while running your fingers through his long hair as he started walking towards the bedroom with you in his arms
~▪︎~
"Y/n? Are you okay?" You were snapped back to the reality as lia shaked your shoulder and you looked at her smiling slightly "yeah I'm fine. What were we talking about?" She smiled back at you and for a moment it seemed like yoona had dropped the subject as she was quiet for a moment before she suddenly looked at you "so y/n, how is your marriage life treating you?" She grinned while you sighed before looking at her with a forced smile "I apologize miss yoona but I'd rather not talk about my personal life " her smile dropped slightly but it seemed like she wasn't going to drop the subject without humiliating you "you know I'm just worried about you y/n. You're close with my sister so i was just looking out for you. You can always talk to us if he's neglecting you..i mean it's been a year since you got married but how you're still not pregnant.." all the ladies started whispering among themselves while lia hit her arm "what? I told you I'm worried about her. Mr min seems like a busy man. And maybe she's not her type i mean they were arranged by their parents so-" "i assure you miss yoona. You don't have to worry about me or my life. And for a person who's divorced i don't think you have any right to question my marriage." You smiled calmly while her face turned beet red as she heard the ladies laughing quietly before she glared at you "you're just proving that your marriage has no spark with how you're trying to defend yourself-"
And yet again you failed to hear the rest of her words as the memories from last night came rushing back, causing you to feel something warm in between your legs.
~▪︎~
A shaky breath left your lips as he placed a kiss over your pubic bone, and your eyes fell shut when he wrapped his lips around your clit. He boldly licked a long stride of your clit, groaning the tangy taste before starting to suck your swollen bud causing you to gasp loudly as your legs went to close up. He grunted, throwing your legs over his shoulder and wrapped his large hands around your soft thighs, pulling you down until he was buried in between your legs. He inhaled your intimate smell deeply, groaning before diving in like a straved man. "O-oh yoongi-!" You moaned as he took turns in sucking and lapping at your clit. '' fuck" he growled placing a soft hand over your stomach and pressing you down on the bed when your hips started buckling up and fucked you with his tongue. You whimpered softly and your hips started moving because it seemed like your body had a mind of its own when he was quite literally making out with your clit. A guttural groan left his lips when you started riding his face and the vibrations sent you into another level of pleasure as your hands thrashed to get free, but it was no use because the cuffs were stronger than you "you gonna cum babygirl?" He mumbled increasing his speed and when he thrusted a long finger in your cunt, you saw stars as he hit your g spot and a cry of his name left your lips "y-yoongi! Wanna cum-ah" you moaned as his one went played with your nipple and he growled "cum for me my love " your mouth hanged open as your high washed over you and you came undone with your toes curling because of the overwhelming pleasure.
He made sure not to waste a single drop and gulped down your sweetness with a low moan. Wiping his chin which was dripping with your juice, he came up towards you and pressed his lips over yours causing you to whimper as you tasted yourself "my pretty girl, my wife,the mother of my child" he growled out the last words, his arm wrapping around you possessively and a warmth spread inside your chest as he looked at you like you're the most precious person in this world, the look on his face was dark,possessive, full of lust as he took in your naked form cuffed to his bed. "Fuck. Need to be inside you. I need you doll" his voice came out with pants heavy with lust as he palmed himself ",take me sir. I'm yours" you pleaded and he mumbled "damn right you are angel. Mine" he lined himself at your entrance and without a warning, he slammed his length inside your still sensitive cunt coaxing a loud moan from your lips as you felt his huge cock brushing against every part of your vagina . It was no secret that he is big. "fuck y/n. This little pussy was made for me. So fucking perfect " he grunted, bottoming out before slamming back inside causing you to cry out as you pulled against the cuff "f-feels so good sir- oh god" you whimpered as he thrusted in with long and powerful thrusts, causing your body to jerk every time he thrusted in. His eyes were trained on your breasts, which were bouncing with every thrust and he swears he was going insane when he saw that little bulge appearing in your womb "fuck y/n. You make me so fucking horny" he groaned falling on his elbows so he wouldn't crush you, thrusting in harder as you wrapped your legs around his waist moaning as his lips attacked your nipples "these perfect tits will be filled with milk for my child. Our child" he sounded possessive as he kept his large hand over your barely showing stomach "this womb,will raise our kid. Fuck you will look so fucking beautiful round with my kid" he growled, hitting your g spot causing you gasp as tears of pleasure ran down your cheek "i-i will?" You whimpered, feeling warmth spreading in your body as he mumbled "yes. So fucking beautiful doll. I can imagine it and it makes me want to put more kids inside you" you gasped at his words, the feeling becoming to much to handle "w-wanna touch you sir! Please let me touch you!" You sobbed because of the mixture of overwhelming pleasure and pain and yoongi chuckled darkly "you wanna touch me? Of course you can angel. I'm yours. Yours to touch and yours to love" with a grunt he flicked the lock of both of the cuffs and you gasped as your hands freed , immediately wrapping them around his shoulders and holding him close to you.
You moaned softly feeling your high approaching once again but just as you were about to come, he suddenly pulled out of you causing you to cry out "no yoongi i was so c-close-" you were cut off as he swiftly turned you around so that you were on all fours and his hand cupped your stomach. a gasp left your lips when he landed a harsh spank over your ass "watch your tone brat or I'm gonna leave you here like this." You whimpered pitifully "m'sorry sir" "fuck" his hands gripped your ass and he entered you from behind once again. Easily slipping in your weeping cunt because of how wet you were "o-oh god" you gasped as he didn't gave you time to recover and started thrusting in an almost animalistic pace. This new position gave him a deeper angle to fuck you and small groans and moans left his lips as the sound of skin slapping increased. You gasped as another spank landed on your ass and you were sure you will be red and bruised by the time he's done with you. Your arms started shaking as you felt your high approaching once again and it seemed like he noticed because he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you up so that your back was pressed against his sweaty chest. His tattooed arm tightened around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, biting your skin to muffle his groans as he felt his own high approaching. You held his arm which was wrapped around you for dear life as your legs started shaking and you whimpered his name softly as he whispered "come for me love"you came with a loud cry of his name, your body going limp in his arm and you leaned against his chest panting as he held you up, his thrusts getting sloppier as his palm rubbed your stomach "fuck makes me want to fuck another kid inside you" he groaned feeling his balls tightening before he came with a long groan of your name "fuck! Y/n i love you so fucking much-" "i love you too yoon" you whispered, not being able to open your eyes and you would have fallen if he wasn't holding you up because of how much your legs were shaking. You whimpered softly as ropes and ropes of his hot cum filled you up to the brim. He was breathing heavily as he gently put you down, laying you on your back so your stomach won't be pressed against the bed. You would have laughed if you weren't so tired. He doesn't understand that the fetus won't be harmed if your stomach will press against the bed. The only thing he knows is that he has to protect his child. "You okay?" He mumbled rubbing your cheek and you opened your teary eyes, begging for some sleep and nodded "sore" came out whispered and you winced softly when he took your wrist gently "fuck babygirl I'm so fucking sorry " he whispered kissing your bruised lips "it's okay" his jaw clenched when he noticed your teary eyes and he rasped "you need to tell me if I'm ever too rough with you doll. I'm so fucking sorry i lost control and-" "it's okay yoongi ah I'm fine" you giggled tiredly whispering "wanna sleep" he nodded kissing your forehead and standing up "let's clean you up first yeah?" He mumbled picking you up and making sure to be extra gentle.
~▪︎~
"Hey doll" you looked up when a hand pressed against your back and you smiled brightly as you saw Yoongi looking down at you with a fond smile. Of course he looked very charming. In his three piece suit and his long hair styled. His Rolex watch shinning along with your wedding ring on his ring finger. All the girls on the table looked at you both with wide eyes as they saw him kissing your forehead "ready to go home?" You nodded standing up and he took your Louis Vuitton mini dauphine, before looking at your friends with his usual cold eyes "I'm Min yoongi. Y/n's husband. It was nice meeting you ladies, now if you can excuse us i need to take my wife home" he made sure to look at yoona as he wrapped a protective arm around your waist and pulled you closer. You placed a soft hand on his chest looking at lia "let's meet later lia" she nodded smiling softly and you smiled at your other friends before stopping at yoona who seemed to be burning red with jealousy as she eyed your bag and his arm wrapped around you "miss yoona" her gaze snapped at you with a burning smile while yoongi's arm around you tighten. You raised your hand and tucked your hair behind your ear, making sure your neck was exposing the dark marks he had left on you, and your sleeve pushed down slightly, revealing the cuff marks marks on your wrist. You didn't miss her jaw clenching as she saw the marks and you placed a hand on her shoulder saying "i assure you the spark is still there" before walking past her with yoongi smirking proudly and leaning down to whisper against your ear "that's my girl "
You giggled softly and kissed his lips "how long were you there?" He scoffed mumbling "don't worry doll. I was there long enough to almost put a bullet in her head" of course you felt the bulge of his gun pressing against your hips. But it didn't scared you like it used to. Odd enough, it gave you comfort in knowing that he was close to you. "You know you looked really hot back there" "really?" You chirped giggling and he nodded pressing his nose against your jawline "you think our kid would mind if i give them a little visit tonight?" He placed a hand over your thigh, squeezing your soft flesh and you kept your hand on his, whispering "I'm sure they won't " laughing loudly when he speeded out of the parking lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/n the spark will never leave if yoongi's your husband 😌
Taglist(open)
@bunnyrhe @rosquilleta @raineandskye @shymagda-7 @creatorspalace @yoonaasa @iheartsvt @xmochiloverx @kyojuro-ska @meow-min @kissme-ornot @wobblewobble822 @kookieaddicted96
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tae-cup · 1 year
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Caskets and Gold Roses | Bury Me
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Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “All of my past, I tried to erase it, but now I see, would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name, but we are not the same.” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 5.9K A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s my birthday gift to you :)  Other: Masterlist ; Series Masterlist
Previous
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    Your father had always beaten you at chess. The complexities of the game were not hard to memorize, it was more so that he thought faster and farther ahead. He’d taught you chess and though you tried your best to succeed and show him that the student can outwit the master, he remained the champion. Every weekend and every break, you challenge him to a chess match. Without fail, he would win. It was never the same, either. The moves cycled. One moment, he opened with the queen’s gambit and the next he was returning with the sicilian defense. There was no counter, in your mind, to his ability to outwit you at every turn. 
    Waking up in a dark room in your old house was not on your yearly bucket list. Well, actually, the list had been quite short and none of it had been fulfilled since the marriage. The list included basic things like freedom and peace in your life. You sniffed the air and, to your dismay, you were met with the all too familiar odor of the basement. To be clear, it was the deep bowels of the basement, hidden behind a bookshelf. 
    While you were contemplating the logistics of dragging your unconscious, completely deadweight, body down three flights of stairs, another thought hit you. Oh yeah. This was where the nasty tortures went down. So, the rationalization of your situation promptly disappeared. All evidence of sanity seemed to go down the drain as you found yourself squinting in the dim lighting. The hum of the lightbulb was starting to grate on your ears and the worst part was definitely the smell. 
    The smell was a mix of mildew and blood—two things that made sense for, well, obvious reasons. You blinked a couple more times and took a few deep breaths. With a couple flexes of the wrists, it didn’t take long to realize the full gravity of your position. You were strapped to a chair, your wrists and ankles tied uncomfortably tight. Now it was time to start really panicking. You didn’t exactly have expertise in escaping cuffs or chains, afterall, you had spent your time at the Min house reading books and lounging in bed. The chair was stained a wine red. It was too dark to see clearly but too light to be in complete darkness. It felt like going insane. 
    “This looks promising.” You muttered before trying to wriggle your wrists again. There wasn’t much give on the ropes. 
    “Settling in?” A familiar figure stepped into the room. Your heart began to beat at pace that betrayed all calm you showed on your face. It was funny that even after all this time, the presence of this man still scared you. After seeing him stand over those three bodies in the kitchen on that fateful day, your outlook of him had changed. He had become a twisted monster in your mind; bathed in gray light in a kitchen overcome with shadow. 
    “I’ve seen worse.” You answered nonchalantly, but even Yoongi killing that man point blank had to have been better than this. Your death was going to be long and drawn out, you just knew it. However, it was hard to focus on that part as Mr. Seong began to circle the chair like a shark on the hunt. 
    “Oh, you’ve seen worse, but have you felt it?” He chuckled. Your face must have paled considerably because he laughed even harder. “Don’t worry, dear, humor your dear old dad.” The man finished his circle and stood in front of you. He towered over you, the armrests groaned as he leaned on them. “Not a hair on you will be touched until the Min’s contact us. Then, the games begin.” 
    You let out a shaky breath, trying to find the words to say, but he left the room as swiftly as he came. You eyeballed the camera in the corner of the room. There was a table behind you full of devices you didn’t want to know about. Then the buzzing light went out. 
    Sitting in the dark, you realized that maybe the dim lighting wasn’t so bad afterall. 
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   It wasn’t long after you left that Yoongi realized his errors. Of course you had been scared, of course. He was so accustomed to the physical violence, the threats, of his childhood that he forgot your childhood had been different. Your childhood had been psychological torture. Everyday felt like something bad was going to happen, but you had to endure it. He, on the other hand, got a good knock to the face if something went wrong. What he thought were normal sounds in a house—screams, to be exact—came across quite differently to an unsuspecting bystander.
    So he stood, for a moment, taking in the sight of you leaving, replaying it in his head over and over. In that memory, now engrained in his brain, you were everything he truly had left and you were running from him. He pulled a hand through his hair and then huffed in annoyance with himself. He made decisions every day, he risked lives with the flick of his hand, but he never had to understand anyone before. Yoongi barely knew himself, much less a woman who burst into his life like a hurricane. Yes, what a beautifully twisted storm you were. 
    And he loved storms. He loved when it rained, but you made it pour. Finally, there had been someone in his life who was an equal, and he never doubted that. The man just…didn’t quite understand what to do with this new dynamic. He desperately wanted to get closer while drawing away from you. You were all he had and he swore to himself that he wanted none of it. 
    So why was worry creeping down his back? Why were his hands clenching and his jaw tight? He paced, then. Yoongi went from left to right in his office. The place smelled like his father. 
    “Taehyung, I need to think.” He announced at the remaining guard. The man just tilted his head in response. 
    “But you don’t need to.” Taehyung said simply. His eyes were narrowed in a challenge. Taehyung was probably the only man who could look at Yoongi like that. The younger man was his oldest companion.
    “You’re right.” Yoongi admitted, another thing he’d never do with underlings. He didn’t need to think twice about running after you. No, he just needed a plan. “I just want to try to keep this…clean.” 
    That made Taehyung snort before answering, “when have you ever been concerned about that?” 
    When Yoongi didn’t answer right away, Taehyung’s features softened from a jest to an understanding gaze. 
    “I see.” Taehyung murmured. “You’ve grown soft.” 
    “I am not soft.” Yoongi argued, only to be met with Taehyung’s shrug. 
    “Being soft isn’t always terrible, especially with people you love.” 
    Love? Once again, the word was catching him off guard. It always seemed to fumble out of his mouth with no form. He never had much practice saying it out loud and so it sounded foreign when it left his lips. 
    I had no choice but to love you. He’d felt these words for months. In the beginning, it would have been spoken with a hushed tone or an angered huff. Now, the words were sincere. When he closed his eyes, he could see your face. Your eyes had been tearing up again, still red from sobbing on his shirt. 
    He looked down. The spots were almost dry. It felt like by the time they were gone, you would be gone with them. 
    The phone rang, alarming both Taehyung and himself. Yoongi had never turned to look at the phone so fast. But oftentimes, when the phone rang at the dead of night, it was never a good call. It was especially heart wrenching as he made his way over because of the lack of…you. Now he felt stupid letting you just run away. He understood, in the moment, that you needed space, but his men had yet to find you anywhere on the grounds. When they turned up with nothing for the second time, he had felt his heart sink, not only because of the possibility of you getting captured, but also because he had failed to create a single safe space for you in the past almost year. 
    Fuck. Things really weren’t going well, both in his head and physically. He felt sick to his stomach as he picked up the phone. 
    “Min family.” Yoongi answered gruffly in an attempt to mask his worry. 
    There was a low laugh on the other end of the line. The man on the other side had heaving breaths and the phone crackled with every chuckle. Yoongi could almost smell the man’s rotten stench. 
    “Who is it?” He demanded with increasing confusion. 
    “We have your girl.” The man certainly wasn’t Mr. Seong, as he spoke with a crudeness that didn’t befit the other mafia’s leader. 
    He looked up at Taehyung, who remained stoic. There was something in his eyes, though, that made Yoongi concerned. Taehyung’s jaw was clenched, a sign of anxiety. It was not a good situation when Taehyung was anxious. 
    “What do you wish to do? If you kill her, that is no skin off my neck.” Yoongi played it off, but hell would see flames if you died. 
    “Three quarters of your current territory and all the property you have.” A new voice had taken the phone, this time he most certainly recognized it. Mr. Seong. “We must meet in person to sign the papers,” it was an all too familiar sentence, “come alone, unarmed, and we will make the trade.” 
    What would be better? Losing you or losing everything his father had built? His mind retraced his childhood steps. It went up the stairs, past the open windows and billowing curtains, and into the library. There, he would always find his father reading. 
    Then, he was there. He time slowing and the world piecing itself together in a new light. The library. His father, sitting, with a book in hand, on one of the lavish, green, armchairs. The velvet seemed too soft for the rough calluses of his father’s hands. 
    “Yoongi.” His father beckoned. “Come here.” 
    And he did. He did like a lost dog. 
    “You’ve left me.” Yoongi announced, of all the meaningful things he could say. “You left me and now I don’t know what to do.” 
    He didn’t feel fear, because he knew consciously that this place, where his father stood alive, was not real. It was a figment of his imagination while he worked in overdrive to think of a solution. 
    “You will figure it out.” Mr. Min hummed and Yoongi refrained from a scowl. “You know what I always said?” 
    “We’re Mins. It always ends the way we wish.” Yoongi murmured. The words echoed. 
    “But in that saying, it doesn’t quite mean we throw our hands up in the air and hope, does it?” Mr. Min wondered as he stood. While he paced, a smile grew on his face. Yoongi was slowly realizing what he needed to do, truly. Mr. Min had a look of satisfaction. He’d raised his son well, in his mirror image, almost. 
    “What do you do when there’s a problem as dire as this one?” Yoongi had begun to mirror his father, pacing with no end. 
    Mr. Min halted and slammed the book down on the wooden table beside the armchair. 
    “You think outside of the box, son.” 
    And it was like a lightbulb went on. 
    “I’ve got an idea.” 
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    “You’re all the same, you know.” You said loudly, as if that would stop the man before you. Mr. Seong’s hands were so familiar to you; every line, every curve. Those hands, that were now polishing various sharp objects, had picked you up when you were learning to walk. They were the same hands that held you steady and angrily opened doors you slammed. 
    “Tell me more.” He mused, as if you were sitting across the dining table. You used to jabber on for hours unless he shushed you. He often shushed you. It took every ounce of your willpower to hold back the giddy kid inside. The kid was screaming: he wants to know what you have to say! Finally! He wants to listen to you! He wants to be there for you. 
    But your consciousness knew this was simply untrue. The cruel way he so carefully rubbed the oil over each instrument made you more than aware of your situation. You were in a damp room. You were underground where you’d never see the sun again. It seemed pretty straightforward. 
    “Come closer.” You said steadily, maintaining your composure. You were doing your best to make this wooden chair look like a throne. 
    He eyed you suspiciously, but placed the scythe-like knife down on the table. It hit the wood with a harsh bang. Slowly, he approached the throne. 
    “You were never going to let me go, were you?” You questioned, much more the executioner than Mr. Seong. Your eyes searched his, taunting him. Go on. Show your defiance. 
    But Mr. Seong had played this game before. He’d taught you it, after all. Just like playing chess, he made the safest move; one that wouldn’t give away too much, but answered your question well-enough. 
    “I always had my eye on you.” He stated, as if it were normal. 
    “If you were concerned about my well-being, that’s great and all, but I doubt you really thought Yoo-Mr. Min would treat me poorly.” You cursed yourself for slipping up. Oh, right. Yoongi. Things had really been soured. You didn’t expect him to come. You had just run away from your own confession, after all. 
    Even thinking about him, the gummy smile and the languid hands, made your heart quicken. That was not a good sign. Based on the smile your father had donned, it seemed that he noticed these facts as well. 
    “You never loved mom.” You continued your rampage, throwing every possible insult to throw him off. You wanted to get under his skin before he knew he was under yours. This comment seemed to hit home, though, as you saw his gaze waver for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t much, but for someone who was trained through trauma to read the smallest of cues, it was enough. 
    “That is simply untrue.” He announced, as if that would do anything. 
    “Hey, don’t take it too seriously from me, I’m the one sitting in the basement.” You tried to appeal to his funnier side, but that man was gone. All that was left of your father was the mere shape of him. Okay, back to the harsh facts, then. 
    “You just like controlling women. All these ‘mafia’ men do. You’re all the same.” You said with disgust. He seemed to shrug that one off, because it was a known fact anyway. And yet you didn’t feel that with Yoongi. This man really had you soft. 
    “Your manipulation tactics don’t work on me, darling. I taught you some of them after all.” 
    “You didn’t teach me shit.” You cussed. You felt yourself slipping. Who was this beast coming out? Your inner being, the spirit locked away through deals and deception, had turned into a ravaging beast. What the hell did it matter anyway? You had resigned yourself to this fate. You might as well make the most of it. 
    “Like father like daughter.” Mr. Seong shrugged. Your shoulders shuddered in laughter and you threw your head back with a wheezing gasp. 
    “You’re right.” You chuckled, your head lawling back to look at him through the strands of hair that had fallen. The room felt slick, damp, and maybe it was because of your heavy breaths. The way your chest rose and fell created a sickly mist. “I’m just like you, on the inside. I’m all fucked up and there’s nothing, nothing, I could have done. I’m just like you because I am you. I’m your little shitty DNA experiment.” 
    “That’s not true.” He said softly, with a fatherly warmth that no longer interested you. He grabbed a pair of pliers and knelt in front of you. Your eyes followed his movements and you knew where this was going next. You flexed your fingers uncomfortably. “You’re so much more than my DNA. You’re my daughter through and through.” 
    The first clamp. The first twist and pull. The first scream made a guttural exit from your throat. Checkmate. 
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    He was getting anxious as he waited. Yoongi wasn’t one to be concerned about any one thing, but time was truly of the essence. Yoongi wasn’t anxious, but he wasn’t all too patient either. He thought it must have been a rookie mistake to allow him into the exact house the hostage was kept at. However, Mr. Seong wasn’t known to be an idiot. There was something else at work here and Yoongi was itching to get to the bottom of it. The living room couch was comfortable and Yoongi was anything but. 
    “Mr. Min.” A maid answered the door. Yoongi glanced up at the ceiling of your house. So this was your childhood home? It seemed like a normal family home. The kitchen in front of him, a doorway next to that. Behind him, a panoramic view of Seoul and the quiet footsteps of Snakes in the grass. 
    “Right this way.” The maid chirped. She was pretty; tightly wound blonde hair in a bun and a soft pink cupids bow for lips. Yoongi was having trouble discerning if she was with the enemy or a simple housemaid caught in the middle. 
    He steadily walked towards the dark hallway to his right. At the end of the hallway was an ominous dark oak, towering, door. He almost scoffed at the display of insecurity. One that needs such an atrociously overpowering door must be truly self conscious inside. 
    The door opened with a low groan and he stepped inside. The man did his best not to pat his pockets or subconsciously reach towards the hidden gun in his belt. 
    “Please, sit.” Mr. Seong, the man with all the power, supposedly. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. He’d always been a bit better at the charisma part of the business than his father, but his father had been a stronger fighter. That’s what people respond to, in this business. His father’s words echoed softly. Pain and more pain. Not feathery words. His father had spat that phrase so venomously that Yoongi suffered its symptoms all these years later. The statement only rung further true when his eyes caught the knife that Mr. Seong was cleaning. 
    It was short and small, certainly precise. That wasn’t too concerning. Yoongi was sure he could take the man in a fight with a knife that small. What made his heart quicken was the white cloth that was being used as a cleaning rag. It was covered in blood. And Yoongi knew fresh blood when he saw it. The silver glinted off the mirror to the right of the man.
    The sight almost made him sick. The thoughts almost ran him ragged, but he realized, with a sly smile, that Mr. Seong wanted him to see it. 
    The Snakes leader sat down slowly. In order for his plan to work, he needed to sell the act. He felt like an actor, waiting to hear the magical word to bring him into character. Oh, he was surely buzzing with contempt. 
    “I’m surprised you agreed to meet me in person.” Mr. Seong began. The clock ticked steadily.
Action. 
    “You didn’t give me much a choice, now, did you?” Yoongi grinned as if to say he was a defeated adversary. 
    “You didn’t negotiate. I’m shocked my rival for years would agree to lay down and die.” 
    “I thought we should bargain in person. A sort of last ditch effort now that you’ve got my hands a bit…tied.” 
    “I knew it.” Mr. Seong had a real shit-eating grin on his face. “You love her.” 
    “Love is a strong word.” Yoongi continued apathetically. “I more so need to show that you can’t mess with my kin and leave scot free.” 
    “Oh I’m sure you do. Well, I’m glad we can end this little rivalry of ours without too much blood.”
    The papers were produced with ease. It felt like an all too familiar scene. But where were you? Yoongi glanced to his side. The gaping hole of space unfilled reminded him of his mission. It was any time now that his men should be finding you. He could see it now. 
    The men, breaking in, rescuing you, then retreating. Him, falling back and retaliating with the full force of the Snakes, razing the home to the ground. Oh yes, it would be perfect, and as there hadn’t been a peep outside the office door, he assumed it was going according to plan. 
    “I can’t say I’m glad. How about we negotiate?” Yoongi said, refusing to pick up the pen that was being adamantly pushed towards him. 
    “Negotiate? At this stage? Why, it would be a waste to have to print all of these again.” 
    “You’re about to become a billionaire either way, Mr. Seong. Reprinting a few measly papers to seal the deal shouldn’t be a concern.” Yoongi tilted his head slightly as if to say what gives? 
    “I will give you that, Mr. Min.” 
    It didn’t feel right to be called that name. It still felt like his father’s name. He glanced up at the ceiling. He felt like he was still standing in his father’s shadow, the gigantic mess that he was left when his father passed. But with this little stunt, if he could pull it off, he could step into the light. A new era of the Snakes could dawn. 
    “I will give you half of my land and half of my owned properties.” Yoongi smiled. “I would still be hobbled and you would have more than enough with your current stocks combined.” 
    “Two thirds.” Mr. Seong countered lowly. “Of everything.” 
    Yoongi shook his head back and forth with a frown. “Greedy greedy little man.”
    “We are both businessmen, you know the deal.” 
    “I consider myself more man than business. But you?” Yoongi stood and began to pace in measured steps. “I think you are more business than…anything else. More than a man, more than a husband,” He stopped and gave Mr. Seong a blank stare, “more than a father.” 
    Mr. Seong slapped his hand on the table and stood up furiously. His cheeks were growing red and Yoongi knew he was starting to win. Mr. Seong pointed an accusatory finger. 
    “Just what do you think you’re playing at, Min?” He demanded, his voice barely below a shout. 
    “Sir, I’m just trying to figure out what your true end goal is? I gave you a quite beneficial deal.” Yoongi’s eyes widened with mock realization. “But it’s not about the deal, is it? Or how much money you’ll get. It’s about pride, for you, now, right? You want to show everyone that you’re better than them, that you were able to best the great Min family. But you know, deep down, that you are a coward.” Yoongi walked towards the man and planted his hands on the other side of the desk. “You took the shameful road. Truly. Kidnapping? Disgusting.” 
    Where was Taehyung? They should have found you by now and he was getting tired of stalling. Yoongi didn’t want to get to the point where his real emotions were involved, but he was at the tipping point. This man was truly abhorrent. He found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror next to Mr. Seong. The person staring back didn’t look like him. 
    “Shameful? You want to talk about shameful?” Mr. Seong growled. He opened his mouth to continue, when there was a dull thud of a noise. 
    The noise shut up Mr. Seong and it caught Yoongi’s attention quickly. The house was so quiet now that they had stopped talking and it was making his ears ring. Still, he heard the thud. It came from behind a bookshelf. As he began to analyze the bookshelf, he began to realize that the shelf seemed to protrude more than the others and that the books in it didn’t look quite right. He turned back to look at Mr. Seong and the man was sheet white. 
    No. It couldn’t be. 
    A secret door. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He really was looking like an idiot. Still, he had to salvage this somehow. He backed away from the desk, trying his best to fight off a surprised expression, and tugged his suit vest back into place. Yoongi began to nonchalantly browse the shelves. The odd book shelf was to his right and coming up as he idly brushed his fingers along the spines. 
    “Not a speck of dust.” He mused. “You must have been excited to host me.” 
    “Yes, quite.” Mr. Seong said, but his voice was ghostly and his breath shuddered. His secret was close to being found out. Yoongi had to make sure his hypothesis was correct before making any brash moves, because otherwise he’d be putting the lives of his men in danger. 
    He had reached the bookshelf with the odd protrusion. He tried his best to look as he did with all the other shelves, letting his hands brush the spines. Ah. So he’d really been tricked. Yoongi hated admitting defeat. Still, he must act like nothing was the matter. He needed to think fast.
    “I’ll do two thirds.” The man announced. “It’s done.” 
    “A last minute change of heart? How unusual.”
    “Would you like it or not?” 
    “I will take your word. It shall be done.” Mr. Seong grumbled and eyed the back of Yoongi’s neck as he turned to print the new copies. 
    Yoongi positioned himself subtly, allowing himself to see Mr. Seong in the mirror. The older man was now fumbling to get the printer running. He looked like a normal old man. 
    “The spines of these books are so plastic-y.” Yoongi said matter-of-factly. This made Mr. Seong halt in his tracks. “It’s almost as if they’re fake.” 
    Mr. Seong’s eyebrows furrowed and he started to turn around when he heard the click of a gun. 
    “Mr. Seong, you are truly scum.” Yoongi stated as he held the pistol to the man’s back. He’d never miss at this range. 
    “Oh, you little–” 
    A siren blared, bathing the room in red light. 
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    Five Minutes Earlier
    Taehyung couldn’t remember how he got into the business of picking locks. He didn’t really want to recall either. It must have been something to do with his sordid past or the various car escapades. He enjoyed taking things that weren’t his, to say the least. Now, he had the most intriguing prize to fetch. You had never struck him as particularly odd, but he did note that there was a sadness about you. Even when you smiled and called him Josh, he still sensed something…missing. 
    There was a hole where your heart should be. That’s what he’d decided. And Taehyung wasn’t the kind of guy who could put it back in its place, after all, he only ever took things away. He always made holes with no intention of going back to find replacements. Yoongi was different in that way. 
    Since they were kids, Yoongi had always put things back where they needed to be. If the playroom was messy, Yoongi would help the maids put everything back. Taehyung had only sought to steal what he wanted and indulge in his every desire when he played with Yoongi. There were plenty of guys like Taehyung now. 
    “Hey, bossman.” A new recruit whispered as she put a hand over the housemaid’s mouth. “You found anything?” 
    “Yeah.” Taehyung knelt by the laundry room’s door. “There’s a trap door.” His fine fingers, made for the most delicate of activities, found the slight seam. “Alright. Let’s save our darling Min.” 
    The trap door swung open, pulling a wire with it. The alarms were off in an instant. 
    “Shit!” Taehyung staggered back. “Vanessa!” He turned to see a bullet lace her skull. He had no time to react as another pierced two fingers in his outstretched hand. 
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    Bang! 
    Smoke from a gun. 
    Yoongi walked behind the desk and shoved the body off the chair. 
     “What a rival you were.” He said plainly. Then he turned to the bookshelves and walked over. Cracking his knuckles, he pried open the door. It swung out slowly and moved like honey. “You were right, father,” He glanced over his shoulder at the body on the ground. “Pain and more pain.”
    The red light blinked on and off, illuminating the room in alternating blood and darkness. He stared down into the abyss. There were stairs, but he didn’t know how far they went or if they truly would lead him the right way. 
    There was only one way to find out. 
    The steps were damp and there was a pungent smell that grew worse as he went further. It was iron and sweat. There. The previously dull thump was now a muffled scream as he reach the bottom of the stairs. With his gun drawn, he leaned against the concrete wall. The stairs had branched into two small corridors. There were two cells on each side of the hallways. He peered over his shoulder. The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzzed. 
    There was no one here. Maybe Mr. Seong had assumed no one would find this corridor and that guards were unnecessary. 
    “Help!” You screamed until your vocal chords were scratched and raw. You didn’t know what state you were in or how you had mustered the strength to even scream. But you had heard a feint alarm. 
    When the cell door opened, you almost winced. The pitch black room was purged with light. You didn’t know if you should cry from exhaustion, hope, or fear. 
    A figure stood in the doorway, but it was a familiar shape and a familiar voice that greeted you. 
    “Yoongi?” 
    “What did they do to you?” Yoongi rushed over and you could feel the air shifting to something deadly, despite your glee at seeing him. 
    “A real number.” You whispered. Your voice was gone. You didn’t have any more strength left in your body. Pulling nails sounded like heaven at this point. 
    You knew you were safe now. You didn’t look at his gentle hands undoing the cuffs and chains or the way his breath came short and panicked. You looked at his face and you absorbed the concentrated quirk of his eyebrow and the way his lips pressed together. 
    “You,” You began with a croak. 
    “It’s okay you don’t need to–” 
     You held up a hand. “I–” You gathered all your will power. “I must, because I might not make it out of here.”
    “No, you’ve got all the time in the world.” 
    “You have always been safety for me.” You whispered. “Your touch, that very first day…” You felt your eyes glazing over, but you fought back the dizzying fog in your mind. You fought back from letting your head fall limp. “...in that one touch, you taught me that a hand does not always mean violence. You taught me that your hands will always be safe… If I die, bury me.” 
    “Stop talking like that.” He said seriously, his face was fallen into deep shadow. His eyes grim as he hoisted you into his arms. “You will make it out of this alive. Save the monologue for years from now. Save it for when we’re old and wrinkled. Hell, never tell me.” 
    “Just listen!” You wheezed and your chest ached. “If I die, take the time to bury me, please.”
    “If those are your last words, I don’t want to hear them.” 
    You found yourself smiling despite his harsh declaration. 
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    Opening your eyes felt like a dream. With the morning sun streaming through the billowing white curtains, it all felt like a dream. You didn’t dare move. You didn’t want to break the illusion. Your eyes searched the room. It was everything you remembered, every detail, right down to the missing vase. You were focused on one thing in particular, though, a new addition to the room. 
     “Why are you asleep in a chair?” You coughed and tried sitting up, wincing. Yoongi was up in an instant. He had looked so peaceful while sleeping, but his new expression was of concern, worry. You looked down at yourself. Had you ever seen so many bandages at once? Well, not on a person. Your arms to your legs. 
     “Are you feeling alright?” Yoongi whispered. “I was really worried. You were…saying some scary stuff.” 
    “I remember.” You announced. You were done being reasonable. You were injured, pretty terribly, if the bandages meant anything. But it was the fear lingering in Yoongi’s gaze that unsettled you. “I’m alive, why are you concerned?” 
     “I–” He stopped short. “I guess because, I care for you.” He gently took your hand and it didn’t hurt as much as when you moved on your own. “And I admire you.” 
     That was what made you perk up. 
    “I admire that you are so strong in the face of adversity. You were terrified, I saw it when you first moved in, yet you still found your way to the kitchen and asked for a bandaid.”
    You smiled at the memory. You were so naive, so confused about your father’s motives. 
    “I…I admire you too.” You placed your other hand over his. “And I think I just might love you, but I don’t know yet.”
    “Is it enough to stave off the divorce papers?”
    His gummy smile and the boyish gleam in his eyes made you laugh. It was instant regret as your lungs begged for mercy, but it was worth it. 
    “Yeah, I think I’ll stick with you for at least a few more months.” 
    “Good, because my only other option is Taehyung for company and he won’t stop moaning about his fingers.” 
    “What happened to his fingers?” You asked, bewildered. 
    “Ah, two got shot off, but no worries. He’ll live.” 
    “That sounds like a big deal! Actually, I’ll call over Taehyung and let him know his feelings are valid right now.” 
    “No, no!” Yoongi laughed and it was such a genuine ring that your heart quickened. After you were both done chuckling, a cool breeze blew the curtains once more. 
    “What happened to the Seong clan?” You asked, looking out the window. 
    “Burned to the ground. The few stragglers we’ve dumped onto our allied gangs who need an extra man.” 
    “I see.” You whispered. Then you turned to him and lightly gripped his shoulder. “We’ll be okay, right?” 
    He took a breath and allowed himself a glance into the brilliant blue sky. Then, he turned to you and pressed his forehead to yours. You reached up and gently cupped his cheek. He tilted his head and his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, innocent and in love, all the things you wished could just describe your relationship with Yoongi. Maybe in another time or universe. Maybe you two could simply just be innocent and in love. Until then…
    “Yeah, I think we’ll be okay.” He breathed.
    “I think so too.”
Fin
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 taglist: @scuzmunkie @iliketowrite-2 @drunkzseok @zae007live @iwanttohitmyself @borahebangtan @sumzysworld @honeybubblepopp​ @thedungeonpythoness @sugathy
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hobicakess · 11 months
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RED CHOPSTICK 2 - teaser
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SUMMARY: Suga is missing and his brother seeks you out and.. shit happens
RATING: 18+  (i am not a babysitter, you are in control of what you consume.)
PAIRING: Gangster!Yoongi x reader / Detective!August x reader
BOOK MENTIONS:  | Violence | Cursing | Gangster Yoongi | Detective August | Thick Reader | Afro-Asian Reader | Smut | Dead body & Blood Mention | Stalking Mention | Twin Rivalry | more tags will be added when the full fic is posted 
A/N: I just want fuck every version of Yoongi 
PART ONE
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Looking back up at the detective, your stomach was twisting into knots, knowing that every single move you made was being watched. The thought made you sick to your stomach.
“My brother keeps many women around”  he stated, leaning back into his chair, legs crossing. “But you? He's kept you around for the longest 7 months?” 
He whistled mockingly, “That's a world record, what makes you so special huh?” Pulling out another batch of pictures of 4 men whose faces you've seen before, all four of them have tried to make a pass at you, over the past couple months. The next picture he pulled was them lying in pools of their own blood
"Sloppy jobs by yours truly, all because of his infatuation with you.”
He leaned forward, face smug, expecting you to talk now, “Now that I jogged your memory, where is my brother?”
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explicit-tae · 5 months
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Carnal Desire (2/3)
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You refuse to let Yoongi give you the cold shoulder, even after your night with him. So, you decide to show Yoongi that even if you were "his girl", that it didn't mean that you weren't desirable for others. @massivelyfullenthusiast @idkjustlovingbts @december-bae10 @baechugff @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111
Part 1 | Part 3
Word Count: 3.172
Warning: smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, public type sex, haegeum type vibes fr fr, possessive/jealous yoongi, licking, nipple sucking, oral (f receving),
You hated Min Yoongi.
You hated how you allowed yourself back into your hometown.
You hated how you saw the same man you’ve been in loved with for years - and how it felt as if you fell for him again once more, a decade later.
You hated Min Yoongi because you loved him and it appeared as if your love for him was not enough for him to return to you.
It felt dirty being with Yoongi like this in public, even if the pair of you were in the furthest room from everyone - and held no cameras. But you could not bring yourself to care - not now. Yoongi was willing to have you like you’ve desired for years and you were going to take the opportunity.
Yoongi had touched you like a man starved, fully embracing his attraction and arousal. His hands - so large and calloused - rubs along your skin, gripping your hips, to your ass to cupping your breast. He isn’t sure where he wants to focus on - you were far too enticing for his hands to remain on one body part.
You weren’t complaining. Your hips had bucked against his erection, wishing it was him inside of you instead - but you’d take anything you can get for now. Your kisses were sloppy, his tongue sucking onto your own. It was intimate and the teenage girl in you had dreamed of a time like this - but damn was it better than you ever imagined. 
Yoongi knew of your crush on him back then and now that you were a grown woman, it’s hard to deny you. Your eyes were what once made him soft for you, always willing to do whatever it was that you asked. Now, the same eyes were filled with lust and mischief - and full submission.
“I missed you.” you admit once Yoongi’s lips trail down your neck and on your collarbone. 
Yoongi grunts. “Yeah?”
You nod your head, leaning it back so Yoongi has full control to continue his suckling upon your skin. 
“I wish I could’ve stayed with you.” you continue, letting out years of desperation upon him. You had to sound pathetic, but you didn’t care. Yoongi was yours now - as yours as you wanted him to be. “I wanted to be your girl so bad.”
“I know.” Yoongi groans at the sultriness of your voice. There you were again admitting not only your love, but your need for him. “You’re here now.” is all Yoongi can say. 
Ten years is a long time to make up. He was no longer the young fool he was back when you left, but now a man. He had power no one else his age had. 
Not only that, but you weren’t the same little girl giving Yoongi those innocent heart eyes - you were a woman now. He didn’t have to hold back the urges any longer; he knew you could handle whatever he was going to give you. 
“You can be my girl now.” Yoongi knows he’s going to look back and think how incredibly horny he looks feasting on your skin, but he can’t allow himself to care now as lust takes over. His tongue dips out to lick at your skin while his teeth nip at it. 
“You sure you aren’t going to allow me to leave again?” you decide to joke, a soft moan slipping through your lips. 
“You aren’t going anywhere, Y/N.” Yoongi nips your neck once more, holding you even tighter against him. “Even though you know that you aren’t going to leave me again.”
How right Yoongi was.
This isn’t how Yoongi wants to have you - not in the back room of a club as if you were some whore for him. But he doesn’t want to stop - and you don’t want him to.
“I-I just got that!” you hiss when you hear the ripping sounds followed by your breast pooling out.
Yoongi groans at the sight of your bare breasts. He licks his thumb before pressing it firmly onto your nipple, gripping your breast entirely into his large hand. “I’ll buy you more.” he murmurs. 
It’s hard to be upset when Yoongi looks as hot as he does, eyes low and filled with lust. The thin material of the lingerie thong becomes sticky with slick due to Yoongi’s erection rubbing right along it.
“You’re so beautiful.” Yoongi grunts before engulfing your nipple into his mouth whole. He suckles on it like a man starved, his right hand gripping and tugging onto your free breast. His fingers find your nipple and begin to twirl it between his thumb and index.
Your mind is foggy with lust - this is all you’ve ever wanted. To be with Yoongi, to have him fully. You wished he could have been the one you laid with first, but that couldn’t be possible. Your father forbade you to be with a man such as him - it’s sad to believe that his sickness is what brought you back to Yoongi.
More.
Yoongi wanted more. He needed more of you.
Yoongi doesn’t want to be too rough - he’s unsure truly what you were into or not. And you were such a submissive woman that you wouldn’t complain if he had gone too far. He attempts to be calm and not fully go down the path of dominance - but even he has a hard time.
“Yoongi…”
Yoongi releases your nipple from his lips, a soft popping sound coming from it. His lips are wet when he presses them against yours. His free hand slaps against your ass, pressing you against his hardened erection even harder.
“I missed hearing you say my name.” Yoongi inhales deeply when he releases your lips. “I remember it sounding so sweet when you were young. Now…” Yoongi pecks your lips once more, a flushed look upon his face. “...now it slips through your lips with such need.”
You nod your head with a bite of your lip. “I-I do need you.”
Yoongi groans with a shake of his head. You don’t know what you do to him.
“I want to taste you.” Yoongi lifts from the leather couch, holding you in a tight embrace. “See if you were as sweet as I always thought you were.”
You nod your head hastily. There were times back in your teenage years that you would hear rumors of Yoongi and his tongue - as much as it pained for you to hear because it was never you - and just how amazing he was with it.
Your back hits the leather couch smoothly and it takes no time for your thong to be off. Yoongi’s face is so close to your sex, eyes fixed on it intently. It causes you to feel hot with embarrassment.
“Stop.” Yoongi slaps your thighs away as they begin to close. He hikes your legs to sit on his shoulders. “You’re already so wet.”
Yoongi is so close to your exposed sex that your world is beginning to spin. A soft whine escapes your lips when you feel (and watch) as Yoongi brings a hand up to your clit. Two of his fingers spread apart your lips, his tongue peaking out to lick a single strip upon your clit.
Your head falls back and hits the couch, your eyes snapping shut. You gasp in pleasure, the once shyness you felt now out the window.
Yoongi was now suckling on your clit, his fingers sliding down at your entrance, teasing the wet hole.
Your toes curl at Yoongi’s suckling, his fingers inching closer inside of you. 
Shit.
Shit,
Shit.
Yoongi never comes up for air, nor does his tongue stop twirling your clit. His fingers are pumping deep inside of you and you’re pondering if he was ever going to get tired. 
You begin to sob, the cries mixed with your choked moans. Your thighs clenched, caging his head in that you would have to remember to unclench them so you wouldn’t be the cause of his suffocation.
“Feels so good, Yoongi.”  you grit through your teeth, thighs quivering in great pleasure. 
Yoongi’s fingers pump even faster - how was that even possible? His tongue continues to lap vigorously.
You begin to shake your head, a familiar feeling bubbling between your legs. This couldn’t be happening - you couldn’t cum this fast. 
“S-Stop, Yoongi!” your hand slaps against his forehead to push him away, but Yoongi doesn’t bulge. He continues to lap with the same ravenous need, fingers curling inside of you that hits a sweet spot each time.
Yoongi’s eyes flicker up to watch as you cum, not caring about the wail that releases from your throat. You managed to not crush his skull with your thighs - not like he was complaining. 
Yoongi lifts himself from your wet clit, his fingers popping out of you. He wraps his tongue around his fingers and sucks, humming to himself. Your eyes manage to open to see Yoongi in the act - it causes you to groan in hot embarrassment.
“Tastes so sweet.”
You noticed just how wet Yoongi’s lips were due to your juices, but he doesn’t seem to care. He kisses up your thigh until he’s face to face with you. His lips fall onto your own, your arousal coating your lips, but you do not care. You want Yoongi entirely too much to care about anything right now. 
“Please fuck me.” you beg when Yoongi releases your lips. 
Yoongi shakes his head, sighing. As much as he wants to, he has gone too far by doing this with you now. Though you had no complaints, he allowed lust to overtake him to the point that his first time with you was in a club. “Not here.”
You sigh in defeat at Yoongi’s tone, the seriousness in it telling you that there was no point in arguing. 
“Don’t look so disappointed Y/N.” Yoongi wraps you in an embrace once more, pulling you up from the couch. “You’re still my girl. I respect you more than to take you here.”
You hated Min Yoongi.
You hated Min Yoongi because that night with you and him was weeks ago and you have yet to see him. When you had the following night, you were met with flickering eyes and pure ignorance by the men at the club - who all came there to gawk and look at women.
“You’re no longer needed on the floor.” your boss had told you when you prepared to go on stage. “Nor are you needed for private dances.”
You were left stunned and before you could question your boss, she had sauntered away. You were instructed to do nothing but serve drinks to people at the bar. You were new to this, never mixing drinks often until now. The job required you to cover a bit more, yet you still showed more skin than usual. 
And yet, even as you stand here serving men, they appear to avoid you like the plague. They speak without looking at you, pay without as much as a nod. It was weird, truly. Something deep in your gut told you it had to do with a certain Min Yoongi.
What you never understood - but guiltily never questioned - was the large sum of money for you at the end of the night. Your boss hands it to you in an envelope with a curt nod and a short “good job” before going on to the next. The cash was a large sum and insanely more than the rest of the girls who were performing - and you were just a bartender.
“Maybe it’s because you’re Suga’s girl.” Bunny had said, eyes wide at the large sum of money. “That has to be so exciting.”
Exciting it could have been if you weren’t being ignored by the man. By the fourth week, you were expected to see Yoongi once you saw the men he was with that night when you first saw him. However, he was not with them. They lingered around, eyes towards the stage as they drank from a bottle they brought in themselves. 
“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked the men as the night was slowing down. Eyes turned towards you for a moment, each of them wide at the sight of you speaking to them. “Hello?”
“We shouldn’t be talking to you.” one man - dark hair with glasses - speaks first.
“I-I…” you knit your brows. “Why not?”
“You’re Suga’s girl.” another one speaks - same dark hair shaved into a low buzz cut. “We respect you.”
“And shouldn’t be talking to you.”
You scoff in disbelief. “I’m not his girl.” you hiss - but they wouldn’t believe you. You came up to them asking for Yoongi after all. “I...can you just tell me where he is.”
The one with the glasses shrugs his shoulders. “We were told to keep an eye-”
“Shut up.” another man - wearing a hat - hisses. “He doesn’t want her to know that.”
What you were gathering by the men’s words was Yoongi had these men here for the sole purpose of keeping an eye out on you - and now you were even more livid. 
“Tell Yoongi I want to see him tomorrow night.” you tell them, eyes to look at each of their faces. 
The men nod their heads and you take your leave.
The following night was one of anticipation. You waited for Yoongi to arrive and when he had, you stood straighter. His eyes met yours and the moment you thought was yours was not. 
Yoongi ignored you. He strolled by without a second glance or a smile. He sat furthest from the bar with the same men - even more men than before - and ignored you.
Your heart sank and for a moment, you contemplated what you’ve done.
But your self pity was then met with anger.
Yoongi was avoiding you and you had not a single reason why. You and him hit it off the last time you saw him - he had taken you home insisting that he would see you once more. He had gone radio silent and now refused to look your way.
You have decided now.
Min Yoongi was going to act like you didn’t exist, then you were going to do the same. He didn’t deserve the luxury of calling you his girl if he was going to ignore you the entire time. You were going to have Min Yoongi come to you.
“How long have you been bartending?”
Your eyes widened at the man's question. He was the first in weeks to directly talk to you and make eye contact. 
“Not long.” you smile, showing your teeth. You manage to not look Yoongi’s way to see if he was watching you. “I’m actually new here.”
The man nods. “I can tell. You’re a little heavy handed with drinks.”
You laughed at any and every joke the man said - even if it did hurt your stomach to do so with such dramatics. 
“Another shot?” you ask the man, raising your bottle towards him. You made it your mission to show your breast as much as you possibly could - that and to bat your eyelashes. 
“S-Sure.” the man slurs.
You lick your lips. In that moment, your head turns and your eyes lock with dark ones. The club is packed and the music is blaring, but you can easily find Yoongi in the crowd. He isn’t far this time, leaning against a wall watching you intently. 
You continue to watch Yoongi, unsure how you managed to not fuck up. Your freehand grasps the man's chin, tip his head back and pour the alcohol in the man's mouth. You turn your eyes away from Yoongi when you see him stand straighter. 
“You’re a wild one.” the man says once the alcohol hits his throat. “Yeah?” you say, smiling at him. You engulf the man in a quick - unsolicited, kiss. It doesn’t feel right - you didn’t indulge in things like this with men you didn’t know. However, you wanted to piss Yoongi off when you knew he was watching.
You release the man's lips and giggle cutely. Your eyes turn once more and notice that Yoongi was not where he was when you last saw him. 
You flinch when the bottle in your hand explodes with a loud shot. You shuffle away from the man as another shot rings out. There’s screaming throughout the club and then running, women and men all scattering to get out. 
You look over the bar with wide eyes at the man. He’s clenching his thigh while blood oozes out from it.
“W-What the fuck?” the man hisses when he’s suddenly kicked to the side, discarded. Your eyes, painfully slow, raised to who it was.
“What were you trying to do, Y/N?”
MIn Yoongi.
Of course it was Min Yoongi.
“Yoongi did you-”
“Of course I did.” Yoongi interrupts you. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”
You shake your head in disbelief. The club is slowly evacuated, leaving no one but Yoongi, you and a few of his men - and the man that has been shot and now staining the club's floor. 
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” you hiss at Yoongi. “You shot a man-”
“That you were using to provoke me!” Yoongi slams his hand down at the bar table as he yells. “I’m sorry.” he says with a shake of his head when you flinch at his tone. “I don’t want to yell at you, Y/N.”
You inhale slightly. 
“You knew what you were doing, Y/N. Trying to make me jealous.”
“Now you want to talk to me?” you scoff in disbelief. “After you ignored all this time? Had me stop performing because I was,” you lift your hand to do air quotations. “Suga’s girl.”
“You are my girl.” Yoongi hisses. “That’s why I don’t want you working in this club. This is why I pay you every night a large sum of money in hopes you’d stop coming back to this place.”
You’re silent at Yoongi’s words, and he continues. 
“I want you to go back to school and do what you were doing before this.” Yoongi sighs. “Come with me, Y/N. We can talk about it at home.”
You want to shake your head and deny Yoongi - you want to scream and yell that he didn’t deserve you after ignoring you. But then you look into his eyes and know that you weren’t going to do any of that.
“Okay.” you nod your head, caving all too quickly for the very man you claim to hate not too long ago. 
You round the corner just as Yoongi’s men gathered the bleeding man in their arms, taking him somewhere you were exactly unsure of. 
“He’ll be okay.” Yoongi assures, wrapping an arm around you. “Poor fool didn’t know you were my girl.”
You gulp as Yoongi presses a kiss to your temple, a feeling in the pit of your heart that sinks lower between your legs at the pet name.
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minniepetals · 6 months
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cry me a river | the habits
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— summary: you are a weapon and weapons do not weep
— pairing: bts x reader
— genre: angst, mafia!au
— word count: 6.4k
— warnings: physical abuse, violence, mentally unstable mindset
— PART 25 / previous post / masterpost
One.
Two.
Three.
The seconds will pass. The minutes will fly. The hours will go.
You’re alright.
Endure it. Endure it.
It will pass.
Everything will pass just as everything has always passed.
In time, father will raise his hand to indicate them to stop. A stop signal. He may leave the room out of boredom but he will return just as he always does in order to demand them to leave you alone. He will never be satisfied but there is always a limit to everything and father sometimes gets too bored to keep seeing it, to keep hearing it, so he’s always there to stop it.
Eventually.
Eventually.
You just have to endure it for now until the signal comes, until—
“What are you doing?!”
You didn’t realize it and perhaps that’s because you blacked out, your mind keeping you from feeling it all completely, trying to protect you, but you’re sitting on the ground when a call demands out an answer in a loud, commanding voice, and a rushing of a pair of feet running over to push Karl off you.
Asher punches Karl right in the face, throwing him off you, before demanding the guards he has with him to hold the man back.
“She provoked me!” Karl argues like a child in a kid’s play.
He’s never been abruptly stopped before. Always angry, never satisfied.
Nothing is ever enough when it comes to the two of them. 
Karl landing hurt through his fists and weapons and anything he can get a hand on. Your father landing hurt through his commands, watching and watching and watching.
And you, their victim, who has to stay down and accept it all until there is a small amount of satisfaction that calls at them to stop.
You always wait on that call, no matter how much endurance it takes.
“That doesn’t make it right to lay your hand on a woman!” Asher retorts with anger laced in his tone, and this anger, despite how different it is from that of Karl’s, still shakes you violently though you keep as still as ever, paralyzed.
Paralyzed.
Even when the anger does not fall on you, even when he does not turn to you but towards the companion who stands behind you, who had stood still this whole time. “And what are you doing? Your boss was getting hit and you just stood there?”
Yeonjun, with a snap on cue, kneels over to your side and looks down at you with widened eyes and a frozen expression. He doesn’t touch you right away, cautious, but you see what those eyes mean, you know exactly what that expression is telling you.
That he, too, had reverted back to the past.
When your father still lived, when he had to stand by and watch everything without moving a muscle.
He reverted back just as you had.
Two little kids, who're still affected by the traumas of the past.
Two little kids.
You take Yeonjun’s hand, giving him the permission to touch you, so he helps you back onto your feet and the two of you remain in silence as you walk off with his help, not daring to look Karl in the eyes, not caring to reply to Asher.
But you feel yourself trembling with the presence of a pair of eyes boring right into your back. Not from Asher or Karl or the two guards but from someone else.
The ghost of him.
Of that man.
That man named father.
.
.
.
“Y/N?” There’s concern in Jungkook’s voice when you walk into the room and you guess that’s probably because of the state you’re in, but right now you can’t entertain him so you simply hold a hand up, asking him to stay back, and Jungkook, though worried, leaves the room on your behalf.
When you’re left alone with Yeonjun, you let your legs give in to sit on the floor rather than finding a chair or taking a seat on the bed.
The floor is comfortable. It’s always been more comfortable.
The boy takes your heels off, along with your jacket, and despite the sting of the pain that aches over your body, the only thing on your mind is the fact that you let it happen so easily, that you allowed yourself to walk back into that state of being an obedient and perfect little doll.
You reverted back to the damages just when you thought after father’s death, you wouldn’t let anyone walk over you anymore.
But it isn’t easy.
It isn’t easy.
And it will never be easy.
Father still lives in your head rent free and there’s nothing you can do about it. No matter how much time has passed, nothing will change. It’s already been a little over a year since his death but he’s still here, still thriving, mocking you, taunting you, controlling everything that you are.
You’re shaking, trembling, not just out of fear but out of anger. Angry at yourself. For being so weak, for reverting back, for thinking things could get better.
And with Yeonjun the only one here with you at the moment, you lean into his touch and let yourself into his arms to allow the sort of warmth only your Reapers can provide you.
Yeonjun’s heartbeat won’t be the same as Mingyu’s, it’s probably even beating rapidly right now, so you don’t let your ear rest against his chest and instead wrap your arms over his neck and climb into his lap to lay your cheek against his shoulder.
Yeonjun brings his hand over to rub down your back but he’s a little awkward and unsure because he’s never really had to do this; comforting you. It’s always been Mingyu, and if Mingyu wasn’t there, it’d be Yuna, and if Yuna couldn’t do it, it’d be Dasom, or someone else.
Anyone else.
He’s only a kid after all, just eighteen years old, the youngest of your Reapers, but because no one else is here, he does his best to pick up the role that’s been given unto him.
Yet you feel him tremble slightly himself and you guess that in some way, he must be afraid as well.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I didn’t…I…”
You know what he’s trying to say, that he failed you, that he couldn’t protect you. But can you really blame him? Because just as you’ve been trained to endure through the pains and take everything that’s given unto you, Yeonjun, the Reapers, were trained to stand by and watch.
Habits are scary.
Frightening.
And because you don’t know how to console him and he doesn’t know how to console you, the two of you remain in silence simply holding onto one another.
Just two little kids having to rely on each other.
Just two little kids.
And after a little while, when things have settled a little more, when he starts shaking a little less, Yeonjun gathers himself and forces himself out of the state he’s in.
He stands up and you watch him leave for a second, not too long, because he rushes, and returns with materials in hand to begin tending to you. It remains as quiet as ever between the two of you, but you see the way his brows furrow in concentration and he stops himself from staying in the mindset of a teenager.
Of a child.
He becomes an adult, a reliable adult. For you. Applying what’s needed on the bruises that have swelled up, wrapping your arm with bandages, and when you frown with disgust at the sight of the white wrapping on you, wanting it off, complaining, he doesn’t fall into your trap and stands his ground just as he’s seen Mingyu do plenty of times.
Yeonjun gets frightened of you at times but he always listens to your every command and does all that you ask him within a heartbeat, but today he grows a pair of wings and knocks you lightly on the head with his knuckles when you try to push him away, when you get stubborn with him.
“Do you want to die?” You glare at him but he doesn’t give in.
“You can kill me after I treat you,” he says and continues his ministrations.
“I hate it,” you tell him. “I don’t like it, this…this white.” You try to scratch at yourself but he grabs your hand before you can and your face scrunches up with anguish. “Get it off me.” 
You tug the pearls on your neck and it scatters onto the floor but you don’t care and move on to the white dress, yet Yeonjun stops you once more.
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I’m not weak.”
“I never said you were.” And because he knows the signs, because he’s seen it plenty of times in you, he grabs the sleeve, rips it, then the hem of the dress, and tears that as well without doing too much. “See? Look. Imperfect.” You hate perfect things and seeing that, the tears of the dress, alleviate a bit of your drumming heartbeat, so Yeonjun grabs a pair of scissors to start cutting off bits of your dress.
All your life you’ve been told to be perfect, that everything you do must be under the command of your father. He made you into his perfect little doll, his perfect little weapon, prepared you for the battlefield, prepared you for war.
For the war that he brought, for the war that was his.
Or rather, he was the war itself.
You are a weapon, and weapons do not weep. Weapons are used and weapons do not run off on their own. Weapons are perfect, they fire at the command of their owner, they’re silent when told, and left to waste if they do not do their job.
You’ve never wanted to be left to waste, you’ve never wanted to be dropped back into an empty room, the White Room, and never picked up again.
“I look broken,” you utter a whisper as if shocked at the image of yourself when you look down at the mess of your dress and the white bandages on your body. Your brows are knitted, teeth grinding on each other, fingers dug into the skin of your palm, eyes red but as always, they refuse to cry.
Because weapons do not weep.
And Yeonjun, for a second, almost panics, thinking he did something wrong, but in Mingyu’s wise words, “Just because it looks like I know what I’m doing when it comes to boss does not mean that is the truth. It is far from the truth. There are times when it feels like I’ve messed up, times when I’m about to panic because she responds differently from what I imagined, but you cannot ever show her that you do not know what you’re doing. Ever. Just pretend when you’re in that position, and if you’re good at pretending, she won’t know a thing,” Yeonjun quickly pulls himself back up.
“You don’t look broken,” he puts the scissors down and takes your two trembling fists. “You look imperfect.”
You look imperfect.
Imperfect.
It does the trick.
He sees the way the crease between your brows starts to soften, how your clenched jaw loosens, the way you let him help your fingers unravel from the strength they held digging into yourself, and how your shoulders fall a bit from being so hunched up.
“I look imperfect?” You ask him, eyes wide and puppy-like, darting right to him and though they shake slightly, they look towards him for an answer, for reassurance, to detect any lie, to seek for the truth. But also pleading, also begging for him to say just that.
Even if the lie must disguise itself as the truth.
“You do,” so Yeonjun lies skillfully. “You look imperfect, boss.”
There’s a breath of relief, quiet and subtle, and it comes in a whisper just barely there. Yeonjun keeps you close and presses a palm to your chest, just where your heartbeat strums.
“Now count,” he tells you. “Mingyu says counting is good, right? Count until he gets here.”
“Is he coming?” You ask when he takes both your hands to take over where his palm once lay.
“Yes,” he lies again. He hasn’t made the call yet. “Soon.”
“You have to stay here.”
“I will.”
“No one can come in.”
“I know.”
“Don’t talk to him, don’t let Karl anywhere near me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“I’m tired.”
“Alright, come here.” He pulls you in carefully into his lap, in his arms, and you let yourself be warmed and comforted in his arms once more, this time with your back pressed to his chest.
“I don’t want to sleep,” you tell him. “The nightmares…they’ll come. He’ll come. He’ll visit. And he’ll try to make me perfect all over again.”
He. Your father.
“I don’t want to be perfect.” It isn’t a command, it’s a plea. A desperate cry for help.
“Then don’t sleep. But count the heartbeats, yeah? Count.” The soft lure of his voice, gentle, encouraging.
With hands still pressed against your chest, you let your ear tune out everything else in order to hear the beat of your heart so that you can start counting them.
One. Two. Three…
It’s fast and you know that you can’t completely count every individual one of them but you try your best to simply concentrate on only that while your eyes stare out at the window a few feet away. The sun shines brightly from the opened curtains and there’s a small little bird perched on the closest tree.
It jumps onto a branch and rests there with its head moving about in different directions.
There are pretty white clouds up above and one of the bigger ones shapes like a castle and you imagine fairies up there, hiding.
There’s another cloud that looks like a cat and another one shaped like a ghost.
The wind blows and your eyes turn back to the bird that flies off.
Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…
It’s slowing down, just slightly.
.
.
.
“I heard what happened this afternoon.”
Kiwi keeps you distracted as he nibbles with your finger. You can’t recall when he’s decided to hang around you rather than his own master whenever you’re around but at least it gives you a reason to not look someone in the eyes.
“Would you like to tell me what happened from your perspective?”
Thirty-something years old. You can’t even remember just how old you are but lately, it hasn’t mattered in the slightest because you feel much younger than what you actually are. Like you’re twenty-something. Even a teen. It doesn’t feel like you’ve aged much.
Your birthday hasn’t been celebrated since your time at the Bangtan manor but it doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters.
Because you feel like a kid back under the control of your father, having to do what you’re told, obeying his every command like someone who can’t do anything on her own.
Under scrutiny.
“What did Karl tell you?” You pop a question of your own, eyes still unfocused, mind still trying to pretend you’re fine, that you’re okay in a room full of strangers.
There’s only one stranger but a stranger nonetheless.
“He said you provoked him.”
“That’s right.” You don’t deny it and instead nod, expression blank so that Alexander cannot tell what’s going on inside your head. And maybe he does, maybe all of this faking is futile because he’s so wise, but you don’t care. You keep still, you keep vague, and you remain cold.
“Is that so…?” He trails off, perhaps thinking, and you can feel his eyes never leaving you. “And what was it that you did to have provoked him?”
“I told him something he didn’t like.”
“And what’s that?”
“That I killed his best friend.”
“And did you?”
“I did.”
“And who was that?”
“My father.”
He pauses, perhaps because he hadn’t expected that answer but you’re sure he’s thinking back on the moment when you first mentioned your father to him. The “story” you gave him was that your father passed away and was a good friend of Karl’s, though you never mentioned anything else about it. 
And now here’s the answer; you killed him yourself.
“Is that why you let Karl do what he did?” He asks you. “Because you thought you deserved the punishment for what you did? Some people may not regret their actions but they’ll let the person most affected do something against them. Was that how it was?”
No.
No, not at all.
You didn’t let Karl hurt you because you knew he’d be hurt by what you did. You didn’t let him hurt you because you thought he at least deserved to lash his anger out on you. Or that you felt bad. Or that you wanted some sort of punishment. Or that you were repenting.
You let Karl hurt you because you’d always let him hurt you, just as you’d always let everyone hurt you.
Because that was how it always was.
A habit.
Being the weaker one, being the one who would chant the words endure, endure because that was what was instilled in you from the moment Mister Butler died. You cannot get out of your habits that easily, you do not just get stronger because you vow to yourself you will.
You don’t just get stronger and you certainly don’t just decide ‘I won’t let anyone step over me anymore’ and succeed on the first try.
Or the second try.
Or the third.
Even the tenth or hundredth time.
You let Karl hurt you because you were used to it and your body, remembering how it always was before your father died, returned to those habits.
The habits of staying still, the habits of enduring all that came at you.
“Yes.” But you lie because what else is there to say? You lie because there is nothing else to say. Because you don’t want to tell the truth. Because the truth means explaining and explaining means opening up and opening up means trusting and trusting never ends well.
You lie because you have to.
“That is all there is to it.” You put Kiwi down onto the floor and stand up straight, making sure to look in the old man’s direction with your hands held together in a formal stance. “Karl’s story is the whole truth. I deserved what he did, for killing his best friend, for killing my father.”
His brows are furrowed and you sense doubt in his eyes but because he has no proof and because you’re not willing to share anything else with him, he can’t push you too hard about the matter. “Whether that is the truth or not, do you really think a man much older and bigger has the right to hurt a woman younger and smaller in stature? No–” he fixes his sentence, “do you think a man is in his right to hurt a woman?”
“A man is capable of hurting anything that he wishes to hurt. He is in the power to do so.”
“You are strong, Y/N.” He stands to meet your eyes, serious, calm, and collected, but there’s a little twitch in his brows to indicate that he feels a bit frustrated by the situation. “You are capable of dodging his attacks. Even if a man were much bigger and stronger than you, you have the brains to outsmart them. You don’t look like someone who will easily let someone else step all over you.”
No. You are exactly just that. You are still the little girl you thought had changed. You’re still weak.
“So I’ll ask you again, Y/N; why did you let Karl hurt you?”
You hate feeling caged in and right now, despite the fact that only Alexander stands in this room, you feel eyes from all over. And maybe that’s just you being paranoid, maybe you’re just making it all up in your head, but you hate every bit of it. 
Every bit of this.
“I gave you my answer, take it with a grain of salt. Do not pretend to be on my side.” And with that, you turn your back to him and walk off without another word.
Alexander doesn’t chase after you but you feel his eyes.
It’s ironic the way you’re supposed to be the one trying to gain his favor and yet this happens; you pushing him away and putting up your walls. And Asher makes sure to remind you of that.
“Isn’t the whole point of you being here to gain his favor?”
He stops you in the middle of the hall when you’re heading back to the guest room.
“Why?” He asks, genuinely curious, maybe even with a bit of genuine concern in that tone.
“Maybe I’m tired,” you say in a quiet voice.
“Of?”
“Of trying to be likable.”
He hums, considering the answer with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall. “And that young bodyguard of yours,” he brings up Yeonjun, “he may be a kid but don’t you think he deserves punishment for failing you?”
“No.” You reply easily and Asher raises a brow.
“You won’t punish him?”
“I don’t blame him.”
He watches you as if you were a strange being, like you weren’t making sense, though there’s a bit of unease that marks his features, some sort of disturbance that troubles his thoughts and you realize that you’ve said too much so you start walking again.
“My people aren’t allowed to act unless I tell them to.”
But Asher doesn’t want to leave it with just that. “You wanted my uncle to hurt you?”
“Nobody wants to get hurt willingly, Asher.”
“Then what is it?”
You’re talking too much.
“It is none of your concern, that’s what it is.” With that, you pick up your steps and walk into the room before he can push you any further.
Jungkook is in there when you walk in, and although being left in a room with just him should trigger some sort of response, surprisingly you don’t tremble that easily and perhaps that’s due to the fact that somehow, in some way, your body just knows that Jungkook doesn’t pose any threat to you. Perhaps because somehow, in some way, you’ve learned to put some trust in him in just the slightest way through the times he’s spent acting as your guard.
It’s been a little over a month.
Mingyu came here prior to your meeting with Alexander and surprisingly you didn’t need him as much as you thought you did. You think that’s because Yeonjun managed to calm you down well, despite his perpetual fear in the beginning. He picked himself up in time, after all, and was there for you by mirroring what Mingyu would have done.
Maybe in some ways, your right hand man has trained all the Reapers in how to respond to you when he isn’t around.
He took Yeonjun away for something, though right now you aren’t too concerned about it.
“..Kook.”
You feel tired, you feel drained, and that’s why you’ve managed to only call Jungkook by a shortened name.
He’s responsive at the first call, despite how quiet your voice is, and when he sees that you’ve given him permission to come in close contact with you, he doesn’t hesitate to walk over to you.
“Do you need something?”
It’s odd the way you feel some sort of relief he’s as responsive as he used to be all those years ago. Maybe because a part of Jungkook will always remain the way that he always was, maybe that’s why you’ve learned to associate him with a figure that you can put a bit of trust in.
“When are they coming?”
“They?” He tilts his head and when you reach a hand out towards him, he takes it in order to help you because you feel your legs are weak in the knees.
“Namjoon. Them.” He takes you to the bed so that you can lie down.
“In a month or so,” he replies. “You said as much time as you need to gain Alexander’s favor but the latest would be in a month.”
You’re already winning so what’s the point in waiting? 
It’s been a month, over a month.
You just want to go home already.
“Can you call him?”
Jungkook looks for his phone. “What for?”
“Tell him to come earlier,” you say, body turned over towards him, cheek against the pillow, eyes drowsy. “In a week. I don’t…Karl has…I want him dead.”
For a second his thumb hovers over his phone to look back over at you and there he finds, the little girl he’s seen holding her walls up so high not even a plane can cross over, beginning to crumble in just the slightest way.
You look exhausted.
The makeup does not hide the bags under your eyes, it doesn’t hide the exhaustion, how drained you are over all of this. And maybe a part of that is due to your insisting to stay awake when you needed sleep but a big part of it is the mission itself.
Every mission is a little different from the other, but Jungkook has come to know that every one of them involves someone who has sucked all that sweet girl energy out of you. They’ve all done you wrong and it can’t be easy. It can’t be easy having to face all of them one by one, trying to deal with it all, trying to rid of them, and ultimately as a result, hurting yourself in the process.
“Kook?” Your eyes went closed for a second but upon his silence, you open them up again in order to look up at him, and due to your exhaustion, he finds the pretty girl he once loved all those years ago with the smallest voice as if calling out for him in a sense of help.
“I-I’ll call.” He’s flustered, slightly, but hits the call button with his thumb and walks towards the bathroom. “Stay awake, alright? I won’t be away for too long.”
He closes the door behind him to start looking around for something just as Namjoon picks up on the other end.
“Jungkook?”
“Y/N wanted me to tell you to come earlier.”
“Earlier?” It’s surprising on his end because just the night before, you told him to stick to the original plan. “Did something happen?” Of course something must’ve happened for you to change your mind so quickly.
In some ways you’re just as stubborn as he is, so he knows you aren’t someone who will change your mind that easily.
“This afternoon, uh…” Jungkook hesitates, not sure if it’s okay to relay him the news but something tells him you probably expect Jungkook to not stay silent about it to the boys. They share everything with each other after all, and if you really cared, you wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you after what happened. “Karl, you know, after touching her when she felt uncomfortable?” He did mention the incident a few weeks ago to Namjoon already. “Well, Y/N took up his invitation to tea in order to catch up and stuff and I assume she pissed him off.”
Somehow, Namjoon expected that. After all, you hinted at doing something reckless during your call with him. 
“I’m not sure what happened exactly because I wasn’t there but Karl hit her.”
“What?” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “What do you mean hit her?”
“Not just once. She has bruises as a result.”
“Bruises?”
“I should get back to her, she might fall asleep but I’ll catch up with you later.” He doesn’t wait for Namjoon’s reply before cutting the call off and returning to your side out of worry that leaving you alone for too long won’t be good, and the fact that you might have actually fallen asleep on him.
Surprisingly you’re still awake, though your eyes are as droopy as they were when he left you.
“Can you turn over on your back?” Is the first thing he asks of you and you obey, turning over. The bed dips a little when he takes a seat beside you and that’s when you feel he begins to take your lashes off.
“You know there’s a lot of processes that go into taking off makeup, right?” You tell him when he takes the other one off.
“I know, bub, I’ve done it before.”
Right.
He’s helped you before.
“So just stay still, yeah? You don’t have to do anything.”
You listen to the lure of his voice, as soft as the way he used to speak to you all those years ago, and let your eyes close as he begins to swipe the makeup wipe over your face. It’s gentle the way he does it, almost as gentle as Dasom, and although he’s a little clumsy and isn’t as fast as she is, he does his best during it all.
When the makeup wipe is done, you feel your hair pushed back and a band coming over to keep it out of the way, then some sort of cloth on your chest and tied behind your neck.
Warm water walks over your face. Bits of it, not too much, not too little, so that you don’t get too wet anywhere else, and then the feel of soapy foam begins to rub in circles all over your face. The massage feels nice and you almost feel your consciousness slipping away but you keep awake to the touch of Jungkook’s hands.
About a minute later, he soaks a washcloth into water and starts to wipe the cleanser off you so that you don’t have to sit up and wash it off with water yourself.
It takes a moment but eventually, he gets it done, and then you feel a wet cotton pad swipe over next.
Something about all of this, the steps he memorized either for you from the past or the fact that he now does it himself regularly, feels rather domestic and just…soft.
And in your sleepy and tired state, you feel anything but uncomfortable, lured in with the feeling of basking on top of clouds with your head bathing under the warm sun with light little pitter patters of rain sprinkling over you.
You don’t know why you enjoy this so much despite how different it feels from when Dasom does it for you, but knowing that your trust is beginning to leak outside of Reapers somehow brings a sort of comfort you never thought you’d feel.
It’s a little frightening because trusting is always scary, especially for people that had once broken it, but for some reason, it just…feels right.
Somehow.
And maybe that’s because you know they were never at fault in the first place, that they were just forced into making an unwanted decision. 
Jung Hoseok would probably be in the same position as they were were he to realize the truth all those years ago. If he hadn’t gotten hurt on that mission. If he hadn’t been forced to lay on the infirmary bed in order to recover. If he hadn’t stood away from the six of them.
Even still, as you’ve said it plenty of times before, just because someone doesn’t mean them doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.
In the safe space that they provided you, you were kicked out of your own comfort and forced to return to the hell you thought you had escaped.
“Why do you not cry?” His voice keeps you awake and when you look up at him through your lashes, eyes feeling quite dreary and heavy, he finds himself pausing in his ministrations as he stares down at you who’s looking up directly at him.
“Why do you ask that?” You return a question, voice just as soft.
Jungkook’s eyes trail down your face. “Karl…he…” he didn’t see what happened but the aftermath of it is right before his eyes. “And Leehyun and…..” He presses his lips together. “You have..so much to cry for.”
“...Do I now?”
“Is there nothing left?” He asks, a hand brushing back small strands of hair that tries to block your eyes.
You don’t nod because you’re too tired to move so you nod through a blink. “It’s all dried up.”
From the water that he used to clean your face, a drop falls from your lash and trails down your cheek, mirroring what a teardrop looks like, and then you say, “But…if I knew how to cry……do you think you deserve to see them?”
He doesn’t reply but you have your answer.
He doesn’t feel worthy.
This Jungkook and the Jungkook you once knew long ago are the same in the way they always feel unworthy of something. No matter how many times you can assure him, he will always think there is something he can do better, that he is undeserving, that he can never be enough.
But unlike idiots who simply say “I don’t deserve you” and go about their days after breaking your heart, Jungkook says it and steps up to do what he can to try and prove to himself that he can be someone deserving.
He always did all that he could and when there came a point when he looked as if he could finally come to terms with being at peace with his love for you, it was ripped away from him all too soon and now he’s back to square one, trying to prove himself.
Even if it isn’t in the form of love.
Jungkook will always care.
But even still,
“I still hate you.”
It comes out soft, it comes out quiet, and a little timid and a little brave, but you hadn’t meant for it to come out.
If you were wide awake, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable state, you would have never spoken those words to him. But because your consciousness is on the verge of slipping away, you speak them out loud for him to hear.
“I know.” And he replies in the same voice, the same softness, quiet, and timid, and brave.
He doesn’t leave your side even after those exchanges uttered unto each other and you fall asleep next to his presence, next to his comfort, next to his warmth.
.
.
.
Jungkook wasn’t there when Taehyung said he witnessed you sleepwalking but he said that it wasn’t the sort of sleepwalking you’d see in a normal person. He said you looked like a ghost more than anything, and that at times, you’d just stand still in the middle of the room and not move an inch.
No, not a ghost. A corpse.
And now here he is, after endless refusal to sleep and finally allowing your eyes to stay closed, he witnesses what Taehyung had meant.
A corpse standing still in the middle of the room, blanket over her shoulders, eyes staring up at the dim sky outside the window, blank and without any hint of life in them.
He watches you from a distance, a furrow in his brows, with his tongue bitten back and his fists clenched by his side.
Subtle anger lies in his heart, brewing, not at you but towards the world that has made you into the sort of person you are today. Or maybe it had always been this way, maybe you had always been hurting and he just never noticed, maybe it was always like this all along and maybe, perhaps, they made it worse when they left you all alone to fend for your own self.
Feeding you to the wolves.
He’s angry not just at the world but at himself and Jungkook knows that if the truth were to ever leave your lips about what actually happened to you, about all the things that you’ve gone through, he knows that this hatred he feels right now is only but a small fraction waiting to build up before it all breaks into the tiniest little pieces.
Shattering in the way he had broken you.
Shattered.
The world can only do so much but he encouraged it by standing by, by letting it all fall down onto you, by letting himself be convinced that you’d be fine, that everything would be alright.
But nothing turned out alright.
In the days and months and years that followed your absence, they returned to how things were, returned to loving one another, accepting one another, forgiving one another. But in those days and months and years, he can only imagine what sort of events you had to face.
While they had each other, while they always had each other to lean on, did you have anyone by your side?
The Reapers may be one thing, supporting you and giving you their utmost loyalty, but did they ever hold power over the things that happened to you in the way Namjoon could have handled it? In the way he would have handled it?
“Y/N?” You don’t answer him when he calls out to you but he expected that so he walks on over to where you’re standing.
You’re as still as ever, and he approaches with a careful, watchful gaze, hesitant when he reaches a finger over to you. 
A small touch to the blanket, just over your shoulder, and when you don’t freak out or move away from him, he puts two fingers. 
Then another.
Then another.
And when you don’t react to his hand, he proceeds to place a hand on your head and press it towards his chest.
You don’t resist.
“Come on, let’s head back to bed, yeah?” And understanding that you’re okay with him even in this lifeless state of yours, because he knows your body is capable of telling the people you trust and don’t trust apart, he puts his other hand under your knees and picks you up to carry you over back to the bed.
You comply well with him despite your unresponsive self, and when he tucks you back in with the blanket pulled over your chest, he looks back to see your eyes staring straight toward him. Empty yet lonely.
Vacant.
Not at him but through him, and his heart aches a little at the sight.
“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispers. “You’re alright.”
If Hoseok had been here, would he have been able to do a better job looking after you?
Jungkook wishes he could have been better.
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