•••> Summary:“No specter assails us in more varied disguises than loneliness, and one of its most impenetrable masks is called love.” —Arthur Schnitzler
•••> Warnings:smut, unprotected sex, fucking a stranger, public bathroom sex, mention of contraceptives, mention of knife play, mention of war, mention of mass murder, supernatural/fantasy sex, aggressive reader, Jimin is a lil snake, aggressive sex, threatening with knife, unwanted soulmate connection, mention of post-war trauma, mafia business. You know the drill. If you don’t want to read,don’t.If you’re under 18,don’t.
Part of the War of Love BTS Mafia Collab, hosted by @sugakookitty and @yutasthetic! Thanks for letting me collab with you guys!
His eyes are dark pools of curiosity as you meet them across the room.
Lights flash and bodies thrash to the beat of the music, yet the passionate chaos is all a blur when you catch his attention.
His gaze startles you at first, conveyed with the way you flinch when you catch it, and it turns smug when he lets the small smirk nudge the corner of his full lips upward. A small ring in the center of his bottom lip catches one of the strobe lights for the tiniest of moments.
By the looks of it, he’s a wannabe. The teardrop tattooed on his left cheekbone paired with his beautifully unmarred skin and richly blue hair is a dead giveaway that he’s never seen the actual horrors of the underground. You eye the attention-grabbing clothes he wears critically- a royal blue muscle shirt and black pants that hug his legs- and see the innocent aura he presents to the club. Still, there’s an intensity in his eyes that you can’t ignore. It seems to pull you in like a cosmic vacuum.
Seokjin leans into your shoulder to yell something in your ear, but you don’t hear it; a drink gets tipped over on your table, but you don’t mind it; Namjoon stumbles into the VIP section and sprawls himself out on the couch while Jungkook stops and turns to stand guard at the entrance of your caged-off section on the balcony, but you don’t spare either man a glance.
The man across the room is utterly enrapturing and you don’t have the slightest idea as to why.
Maybe it’s because he’s actually looking at you when he shouldn’t even be able to perceive your presence.
The steady flow of your umbra is a reminder that you’re still channeling it, so it confuses you even further when his stare on you continues.
Immediately on the alert, you raise your hand into the air to signal your leave- it’s not specifically conveying that you are leaving, but that Namjoon will be removed from your protection and that someone needs to take your place- and you exit the section with a light brush of your shoulder against Jungkook’s. He nods curtly in recognition of your departure yet keeps his well-trained eyes on the crowd that humps and bumps below him.
How can he see you? You furrow your eyebrows in concerned confusion as you walk away from the Cypher of Bangtan, down the stairs, and into the crowd with the unknown man at the forefront of your mind. Is he an Oracle?
Your body seems to be moving on autopilot as you carry yourself closer and closer to the wannabe. He stands against the far wall, making it hard for you to maintain eye-contact with him, so you give up and duck your head to return your presence to the shadows.
People can still see you if they know what they are looking for, however, no one in the entire club, aside from your small circle, knows who you are nor what you actually look like. Your natural ability allows you to draw your umbra over your face and become ablind spot. It is because of this fact that you are even more intrigued by the stranger who can see you.
Your job is to be inconspicuous- to be a ghost-as the Cypher’s First Protector. Namjoon chose you to fill the slot, becoming the first of the many wise decisions he made as the new leader of Bangtan.
One of his most recent decisions wasn’t so… wise.In fact, it makes your job much harder.
Even as you approach the one with the irresistible eyes, you host a twinge of spite whilst remembering how your leader demanded your visible presence at tonight’s festivities. Although you have to be visible to him, he didn’t specify that you had to be visible to everyone, so, since the start of the party, you’ve been concealing yourself from everyone except him.
And, apparently, the stranger.
No one makes way for you because they cannot see you, but it doesn’t make your path towards the man any less difficult. You skate around them easily.
Sweaty bodies grind into each other as the dark purple lights and green lasers flash across them. The DJ for tonight plays bass-boosted remixes of songs that you know well and, surprisingly, the crowd is mostly on beat with her. She raises a hand in the air and points to the ceiling with each heavy thump of the beat.
Plenty of people, you find, smile and scream happily despite the sweat dripping down their foreheads. You’ve been to this club many times since Namjoon bought it those few years ago but never before have you seen this many people so joyous at the same time. It must be a celebration of sorts but it is one you do not know what for.
You nod your head to the beat ever so slightly as you continue your path towards the far wall.
Coming up to the wall where the man was perched, you find that the stranger has left. Men stand, drinking and replicating your nodding to the beat, on either side of the empty spot where he was squished into before. Remnants of dustri leave you puzzled when you carefully get closer to the spot to test it.
You are noTaster; you cannot detect the use of this man’s powers, however, despite your inability to identify what he’s done, you can still detect that he did, for whatever reason, use it while he stood here. If it wasn’t for the intensity of his stare into your soul, you’d convince yourself that he’s new to using his ability by the way he so carelessly leaves tracks behind.
But he isn’t an amateur- you knowhe isn’t. For reasons unknown, this man wants you to follow him.
You turn and search the crowd for him with your umbra pulsing particularly strong to avoid unwanted eyes picking up on your search, but he is nowhere to be seen. Not a single, blue-haired head in sight. The lights continue to flash in the darkness of the room but you don’t need the light to search. You are a Ghost- a Shadow; you see just as well in the dark as you do in the light.
Briefly, you eye the Cypher of Bangtan through the crowd and note the way Jungkook’s shields have slipped just slightly since you left.
As Bangtan’s Ghost, their resident Exspiravit, you see the Unseen. Can manipulate the shadows of that which remain hidden. Jungkook’s shields are an invisible force to all except Oracles, other Shields like him, and you, yet even he forgets that you are able to physically perceive his ability.
His dark hair falls in his face and his figure slouches against the railing while he slides his hands into the pockets of his black joggers. Slacker. You’d have to give him a few lessons in the ring later.
Instead of heading back over to the men of the Cypher to reprimand your Second, you decide to follow the trail of the mystery man’s dustri. Your suspicions are raised with his antics so you willtrack him to secure Namjoon’s safety if not anything else.
You inhale a deep sigh and begin your pursuit.
The trail leaves you with a sweet taste on your tastebuds as you follow it out of the main room. Ever so subtly, you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to try retaining the color of his taste on your palate.
It’s been an incredibly long time since you last came into contact with someone’s dustri. All beings who wield gifts possess dustri, yet no dustrial person would be stupid enough to let anyone but their loved ones contact their dustri. For some reason, this man lets you test his.
Your skin thrums with his energy when you feel the trail get stronger. The sweetness of him develops on your tastebuds the further you walk and it is then that his taste color manifests into a rich, dark blue. The notes of his pulsed echoes send slight shockwaves to the back of your neck where the hairs stand up.
His power is addictive as you follow it down the corridor towards the bathrooms.
You become acutely aware of the six knives strapped to your thighs and the small pistol holstered to your hip, concealed from others by your umbra, due to the potential that this situation could turn out to be a trap. Many mafias around the country would kill Namjoon in a heartbeat if they had the chance and killing you would be a heavy blow to his defense.
Although you are the First Protector and the strongest line of defense against an attack, Jungkook has taken up the false image of being First to ensure better security- just as Namjoon is Seokjin’s supposed underboss- and it is in this farce that lies the ability to expose moles within the group. If the truth became uncovered and you were to be killed, it would leave no doubt of a leak within the Cypher.
The track of the man’s power pulsates from the men’s restroom when you come to stand in front of it. Even as your palms tingle and your bones vibrate, you prepare yourself for the worst- the best being that you get a quickie with a stranger in.
With a swift push, you open the door and charge inside.
The lights are off. Your umbra automatically trembles with power in the darkness and it races to overtake every crevice that lacks luminescence. It stretches from within your chest and connects you to the shadows of the room whilst the door to the hall closes behind you and completely encases you in abyss.
“If you think you can hide,” You speak for the man to hear, extending your dark dominion to each part of the room. “You cannot.”
Your shadows race to eat up the natural shadows of the area, hungry to dominate every inch of space and make it their own. Make it your space. Make it your home.
Suddenly, you’re aware of the pocket that goes unabsorbed by your ability. It shudders under the weight of your umbra yet maintains its shape. Your heart jumps with adrenaline because it makes absolutely no sense.
The entire room is dark so it should be entirely yours to encompass. The small space that resists your energy is drenched in darkness when you look at it, yet it still does not allow your umbra inside it while it begins a slow waltz toward you. With a staggered breath, you push against the space to no avail.
“You know,”
His voice is sin. It’s breathless yet supported by a thousand shadowed whispers as it skates along the shell of your ear with a soft brush of a lip to the skin of your sternum. Where your dustri is.
“I couldn’t actually see you up there. I only sensed you.”
You cannot see him. Whatever his power is, it is able to reflect your umbra away from his body in a way that shields him from your view with your own shadows. Although the pocket of him is small underneath your power, it retains its shape and wavers in front of you.
Like it’s teasing you.
“Who are you?” Your voice is a contribution to your power, layering it on even more harshly than before as you attach your umbra to your sound waves. Where there is sound, there is the absence of it that follows- an emptiness that can be filled.
You place a hand over the first of the three knives on your right thigh, preparing to use it as he gets closer to you.
Instead of answering your question, he continues his approach. “I wasn’t aware of an Exspiravitian in our ranks.”
You take a defensive step back to make your stance stronger and draw your first knife out of its sheath when the decreasing distance between the two of you becomes threatening. Despite the allure of his voice and his supposed membership in the Bangtan mafia, you must maintain your defense until you identify him, for he does not have the neck tattoo that associates him with you.
“What’s it to you, boyscout?” You growl the name degradingly because it is another form of defense. Anyone not within the Cypher should notknow of you. His discovery of who you are proves that he is lowly in the chain of command- if he’s in it- yet incredibly dangerous.
The venom in your voice seems to make him hesitate and falter his steps to a stop, answering with a lilt in his tone.
“Don Jin didn’t tell me another one of our kind was in the gang.”
Even as he says the words, you are surprised when his shape suddenly billows out against your dominion, fighting with vigor against it until it creates its own considerable orb of shadows in the room. It demands to be noticed.
His shadows are the darkest of blues you’ve ever seen, almost as black as your obsidian ones, and you find that they look so similar to yours that you have to look a little harder to find where yours stop and his begin. No one but the Exspiravitians- not even an Oracle gifted with the ability to See- would be able to tell the difference between the shade of your umbra and his.
The pull in it is next to impossible to resist. It makes a sinful, delectable, and sapid smog that threatens your desire to continue your dominance of the room. You want to absorb the color into your flesh and relish in the feel of it spilling out of your pores.
As much as you want to sink into him and let his shadows consume yours, you cannot let him under your skin. The sentiment is too dangerous with your differing positions in Bangtan. With the thought in mind, you take a mental step back.
You study the magnitude of his powers quickly and find that they are no match for yours. With each pulsation of his energy, you become endeared by the defiant fight they maintain. It’s enough to explain how he was able to perceive you up on the balcony; it confirms that he is, indeed, Exspiravitian.
Just like you.
“I was merely curious, Ghost.” He speaks again in the wake of your silence, using the slang word as if you are already friends with him. His shadows recede- much to your dislike- until they stick to his body like a second skin. The retreat allows for you to see his face and eyes once more. He is beautiful. “I meant no offense with my advances.”
“Are you new to it?” You brush off his prior statement, desperate to move on. He nods once as a response and you subsequently eye his bare neck critically. “Where’s your mark?”
“I get it tomorrow.” He responds quickly. “It’s initiation night.”
As someone who’s sole job is to protect the boss, it’s easy for you to forget that there are other operations aside from yours. What he’s told you finally makes Namjoon’s demand for your presence make sense. Of course he wanted you here; he wanted you to see the faces of the new recruits.
You shake your head at yourself and roll your eyes, going back to addressing his callous actions. “Watch who you advance, boyscout. The gang is not as forgiving as I am.”
What you’ve just told him is a complete lie; you are actually the least forgiving member of Bangtan. It is your job to rid the Don of anyone and anything that poses a potential threat. It doesn’t matter if they are actually innocent or not because if Namjoon wants them gone, they are gone.
But there is something about this man that rewrites your being as you stand in front of him. Something that instigates you to bend to him and his will.
And the statement you’ve just told him becomes only partially a lie as you realize this.
“Does that insinuate that I’m supposed to be glad you’re not using your knife on me?”
With his question, you’re instantly reminded of the knife that you hold defensively, at the ready. You lower it with a quirk of your eyebrow and a scoff in disbelief.
“Does that insinuate that you want me to use my knife on you?” You counter, ready for a brief tussle.
He smirks and it is an outright deadly expression on his handsome face. “Only if you make the intention behind its use less lethal and a little more… innovative.”
Your body is flying towards him and pinning him to the wall before you can even process what you are doing. The obvious flirtation from his position pushed too many of your buttons.
Threateningly, you press your knife into his throat and hiss. “I could kill you without batting an eye.”
His smirk doesn’t leave his lips and you discover an itch on your own when you notice how plump his actually are. They part as he exhales a breath from your arm digging into his chest.
You’re also thrown by the way he doesn’t attempt to defend himself.
“Is that why you still won’t let me see your face, Ghost? Because you don’t look your opponent in the eye?”
The frustration within you boils to a peak from his words because he has just taken a stab at your honor- a concept your people value. You angle the blade into his neck a little harder and watch as he winces just slightly. It helps you calm your racing heart just a little because, for some reason, the sight doesn’t sit quite right with you.
“Shut your mouth, boyscout. You don’t know who you’re playing with.”
The man’s blue hair has fallen over his eyes in the process of you shoving him against the wall. It sways with his breaths onto your nose tauntingly, daringyou to reach up and brush it away. You don’t.
“No?” He asks. The way he contorts his smile conveys that he knows something. The suspicion puts you back on edge immediately. “Let me learn then.”
It’s too late before you realize that, within the span of a few seconds, he has pooled his umbra below your feet to snake up and inch towards your back. As soon as he finishes his sentence, it closes around you.
Instinctively, you pull your umbra close to your body and push outward to keep his at bay, yet it is not enough to keep it from touching your body in certain places. The minimal amount of direct contact with it allows you to read the intentions of his aura.
Your grip on your knife falters slightly as his intentions come rushing at you all at once.
His aura is intoxicating, delectable, completely piquant as it washes over you. Even as you continue your resistance against him, you can taste his intentions on the tip of your tongue. It takes everything within you resist it because by the gods, he wants to fuck you against the stall so bad.
The man wants to taste your umbra all over his tongue. Wants it to spill on his face and rake down his back as he grabs you by your delicious thighs and pistons you into the stall behind you. Even as his hand comes up to just barely encircle the arm you use to keep him in his spot, he wants to cover you in his umbra until you know nothing but the taste of him.
Andoh, how you want to drown in him.
The connection you have with him is instantaneous even though you have not merged your shadows with his. You fight his umbra- again, it cannot do anything but tremble teasingly, unmoving against your own- but find that the only thing stopping you from giving in is the idea of fraternization.
With you being unknown, your position nonexistent to him, it quickly diminishes as a problem and reopens your willingness for a quickie.
His shadows inch closer to your chest where you keep your dustri tightly locked into place. Each passing second dwindles your need to resist him and allows his shadows to travel up along your body more provocatively.
“You,” You grit your teeth and tighten your hold on the handle of your blade when his shadows rise just enough to curl into the dip of your hip. He shapes them into fingers that gently prod at your skin. “You are evil.”
“Only if you want me to be, princess.” The pearly white teeth in his grin are insidious.
You have to give it to him. The man played you right into his hands when he saw that he was outmatched. Rather than struggle aimlessly against yours, he strategized a way to get you into a position where he had a better chance to gain the upper hand. Rather than try to win the battle of dustri with brawn, he used his head instead.
It’s kind of… hot.
You recoil at the thought and push against his umbra again, keeping it at bay and suspended as it ever so subtly cups your backside.
You chastise yourself for finding it hot when a man uses his head and not his dick.
Gnashing your teeth together, you double your effort into shoving your arm into his chest and keeping the point of your knife pressed to his carotid artery.
“Easy, Ghost,” He slowly lowers his hand from your wrist and, instead, curls it into the flesh of your waist. Your breath hitches at the gentle tone he uses. It’s almost… kind. “I just want to see your face.”
The request is a simple one, but it is one you can’t honor because it is one that places Namjoon at risk. If it wasn’t for the pull he exhumes onto you, you would be telling him to fuck off by now.
For whatever godforsaken reason, though, you want to be seen by him in any way that you can. Your soul begs to be revealed to his prying eyes so that it may fill the emptiness in his gaze with you. Your umbra, as a result of your dustri’s intentions, pulls back from your eyes to allow him the smallest glimpse of you.
The man’s body goes slack as he makes actual eye contact with you for the first time. He exhales shakily, grip trembling against your waist.
“Me solum,” He speaks the words in the ancient tongue of your people- a language you haven’t heard since you were a mere child. “It’s you.”
“Don’t play games with me, Exspiravit,” You bite the name out with disgust. “I am no stranger to the tactic.”
“Sentire cor meum, me solum.” He looks down at your shrouded lips with a look of bewilderment taking control of his eyes. You find it hard to believe what he speaks.
His use of the mother tongue does not bring you comfort nor does it add to his efforts of trying to woo you- if you ignore the way your body practically purrs from the sound of it- and you almost snarl at him because of the dark memories that come with your ability to understand him.
“English, motherfucker.”
He looks taken aback by your hostility again, confused with your reaction, yet presses his efforts forward.
“Feel me. Feel my heart.” Without missing a beat, he whispers and removes his umbra from his chest to expose his dustri to you.
Waves of blues and blacks cascade from his sternum, pouring out at you in search of an umbra’s protective cradle to keep it safe. You suck in a startled breath, shocked by its pure vulnerability as it cries out for your protection.
Before you have the chance to think twice about it, your umbra responds to your dustri’s intentions and swoops in to cup his in its grasp.
Midnight blue blossoms behind your fluttering eyelids as your body jerks forward to press against him. As if he was waiting for you, his umbra caves in to crush you to his flesh and ensure your tight support of his dustri. Your umbra vibrates with electrified vigor, an energy that seems to awaken parts within you that you were unaware of before. Is he telling you the truth?
Too many emotions fly at you at once, one of them being the shock you feel due to his sudden exposure. Exposing dustri is an incredibly dangerous act, especially with a stranger, and you can’t even begin to stress over the fact that he’s baring himself to you in the bathroom of Bangtan’s nightclub.
Your grip on your knife loosens even more as your chest presses up against the man’s. It goes clattering to the floor, forgotten.
He whines as you penetrate his chest with your shadows to fully encompass his dustri. His body shudders at the welcome violation of his most secure place and he lets his lips hang open to pant at the alien feeling. His umbra flows freely out of his mouth, served on the silver platter of his plump lips, like an irresistible dessert.
Your haste to completely encase him within your dominion goes forgotten as you zero in on the offering hungrily.
You’re mindless. The feeling of his vulnerable energy within your space is a sensation you have no idea how you lived without. It sucks your power in and pushes it back out, changed, although you don’t know if the change is good or awful.
In a violent detonation of dark tendrils, your lips meet.
His shadows are cool and inviting as you press into them with your tongue and inhale them down your throat. The contact is otherworldly and addicting, pushing you to open your lips against his and messily lick into his mouth to take another mouthful. He exhales another cloud of his dark limbs onto your eager tongue whilst he hungrily returns your kiss.
They curl down into your lungs, filling them into a veritable void of intoxicating darkness. When they cannot seem to dip into the shell you keep around your own dustri, they curl further down into your belly and pulse into the apex of your thighs. As his umbra seeks to consume your dustri like you’ve done his, it also comes to swallow your body below your hips and press up, up, up…
With a tedious tendril, the blue-haired man licks a shadow against your clothed folds.
Your legs turn to jelly as white hot desire washes through your core, driving your knees slightly apart to allow more of his attention. You almost slump your entire body weight into him, digging your nails into his shoulders to keep yourself upright, as he repeats the action again with a pained grunt.
The man’s hands encircle your waist and lock you against him as he leans into the kiss. You can’t help but raise your arms to loop around his neck and respond to his efforts with your own fervor.
In your weakened state, it’s hard to remember when he started moving you, yet you come to forget about it as he cages you into the cool metal of the first stall to keep you from leaving- not that you’d want to.
The man’s darkness oozes from him in waves when you let him pick you up by the backs of your thighs. It encases you in a pillowy cradle of safety and assists him in pinning you to the hard surface as if he is seating you in a cocooned swing.
For a moment, your lips part so that you can suck in actual air. A string of saliva clings to your bottom lip and his, stretching and then breaking as you part.
“Jimin,” He breathes, moving his lips to the side of your neck. It throws you off for a split second. “My name is-”
You cut him off, panicked. “Don’t tell me your fucking name, imbecile.”
But it’s too late. You know his name and it’s perfect. It’s everything you expected but so much more.
Jimin. Your other half.
Your umbra lashes out at him, wrapping around his body like flailing vines to secure his waist and hips between your legs. It’s too much pull for his shoulders to resist and they are forced to meet your own.
Chest to chest, Jimin fumbles with the button and zipper of your pants. He struggles within the confines of your umbra’s tight hold on him but, as soon as he gets the zipper all the way down, his own shadows pour down the front of your panties and flood the accumulation of your arousal to pool against your sex.
Instead of the coolness you swallowed into your lungs, it’s a lukewarm and pulsing heat that laps at your cunt like a steady tide. Jimin uses his umbra so that it doesn’t carry physicality when it comes into contact with your flesh, but that it acts as an energy that thrums into your nerves to remind you that you’re not imagining things.
You gasp into the storm of his shadows, craning your head back into the stall and relishing in the feeling of his tendrils tickling against your temples. You’re smart enough to know that he seeks access to your mind but you’re not stupid enough to allow it. The reserves of umbra you keep close to your dustri also fortify over your head to prevent him from getting in.
“Fuck.” Your expletive is swallowed by his smog and absorbed into absolute silence. You only know that you say it aloud because of the way your throat vibrates.
Your shadows are driven by your desire to touch Jimin, and they follow your intentions with long wisps that slide below his blue muscle shirt and adhere to each of his fine lines. Hesitantly, you raise one to nudge against his nipple.
With a full body jerk and a low groan, the Exspiravit seats his cock between your legs. “Your umbra. It’s so…” He hisses as you slide your shadows down to the bottom of his stomach. “… it’s so dark.”
The man’s body is pressed too close to yours to see his face and you are left to stare out into the abyss of his blue umbra. It churns in a tight pocket around your joined bodies, sinking into any space that happens to be made so that no particle of air goes unclaimed by its dominion.
Even though the man is a complete stranger, being called his solum- his only-makes you bristle with pride. So far in your haze with him, you don’t pay attention to what you’re saying as you dip your own shadows into his jeans to engulf his hardening cock.
“It was forged in Summa Tenebris.” You breathe out.
Suddenly, he freezes and his breath stutters on your neck.
“You…” His shadows pull away as he pushes off of your shoulders to look at you. You’re pulled away from your stupor with the action and realize what you’ve just told him.
“You fought?”
“I was fifteen,” is your answer. You can’t look him in the eye as you say the words that confirm your participation in the war- one that tore a gaping hole into the Exspiravitian people- because you host the same guilt that you did all those years ago when you were a naive soldier.
The people were destroyed because of your extremist faction; you were lucky that you were spared simply because of how young you were, yet it was not enough to keep them from banishing you from Velum, your home.
Jimin’s shock goes unconcealed in the way his eyes darken with pity. “You were only a child.”
“I know.” You say, pulling him by the neck to return to your close proximity. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”
The man holds you differently now. You can feel the hesitation in the way his fingers curl into you. As if you would end him at any moment.
If you truly wanted to, you could.
It would be simple to release the darkness of Summa Tenebris upon him. It’s in your nature as a developed product of it.
The children who were just beginning to develop their umbras were forced into the war so that their shadows could pick off of the death around them. Absorbing the evil darkness from those slain was your mission. Your umbra would come to encompass so much evil that it would turn into the most lethal of shades inVelum.
Obsidian.
You were dealt the unfortunate hand of being one of the only surviving ones once Velum was able to put a stop to your force. Barely a handful of children made it through the Judgement and all of you were exiled from ever returning. It’s been so long that, even if you wanted to return, you don’t know how.
Jimin gradually returns his shadows to your body as the seconds pass, the feel of your pull on him too much to resist for very long. You slowly get back into the moment of fucking a stranger in a bathroom until, finally, he’s spinning you around, pressing your cheek up against the cool surface, and pulling your pants down to your thighs.
“You are dangerous to me, Exspiravit,” he says, slipping a hand down to roughly grab onto one of your ass cheeks. “But this ass is deadly.”
You scoff breathlessly, canting your hips back to press yourself into him. His shadows lick more adamantly into your cunt yet do not breach through. He teases and flirts with your entrance, knowing fully well that he cannot manifest himself to fuck you like that, and it drives you crazy.
“Then how about you fuck me before I kill you?”
Jimin presses the tip of his cock into your folds. “As you wish.”
You can hear the smirk in his voice as he dives inside.
The dive burns. You hiss through your teeth and jam your forehead into the cool metal of the stall for comfort, yet all you find is a harsh cold that makes you greet the reality of your hookup with Jimin.
His hips meet the flesh of your ass after only a few seconds. It feels like an eternity since he first moved forward but you know that it has only taken a small amount of moments to get there.
Yoursolumgrabs onto your neck and leans into you, pressing his nose into your temple as you raise your top lip into a snarl.
“Shit.” You growl when he gyrates his hips to better seat himself inside. “You’re pretty big.”
“Was made for you.” He whispers. “Was made to fuck this pussy.”
He rears back slowly, letting you feel just how many inches he speared you with as he leaves. The friction of his retreat on your pussy lips is absolutely insane and you just haveto lean back to return him to his previous depth.
Jimin’s hips surge forward again, but this time, there’s no break in movement that allows you the chance to adjust. Instead, the Ghost sets a brutally rough pace.
Your forehead occasionally thunks against the wall of the stall, your back arches painfully yet pleasingly, and your legs widen needily. You know there’s no way someone wouldn’t have a clear grasp of what is currently transpiring if they were to step inside the bathroom.
You should be ashamed really, but you can’t afford to dedicate time to such inconsequentialities when the man’s cock starts to constantly ram against the deepest spot in your cunt, making you see fucking stars every time you close your eyes.
But then, you remember Jimin’s impressive umbra. It swallows any sound made. Conceals any movement taken. Realistically, if anyone were to walk in on your little moment, they would merely see the bathroom stall rocking back and forth and think, hm, well that’s strange.
Unless they turned the lights on.
Turning the lights on would force Jimin’s shadows to retreat. They would stand no chance against the lights of this dimension, a drawback that comes with their hue not being completely black. It would reveal you, face harshly shoved against the wall and eyes glazed over with pleasure, as you took countless backshots from the blue-haired man.
You’d also have to restrain from pummeling them into fucking purgatory if they tried to interrupt your session with light.
Jimin’s hands are strong as he latches them onto your hips and you resort to grabbing the top of the stall to keep yourself upright when he uses the new leverage to force your body back into his momentum. His pull drives his dick even harder into the tightness of your pussy until his hips begin clapping against your ass so provocatively that you feel the burn of red on your cheeks become even hotter with sexual mortification.
“Fuck, Jimin,” You gasp his name before you can stop yourself.
He groans against your ear sinfully. “Yes, baby. Say my fucking name.”
You moan brokenly, caught between the pleasure of giving him what he wants and the thrill of keeping what he desires out of his grasp. It’s shameless to say his name so loud- frankly, it’s shameless that you’re saying his name at all given the fact that you’ve only just met him- but the way his hands hold you just a bit tighter and the press of his chest just a bit closer onto your back does things to you that you can’t seem to comprehend.
You dig your forehead into the stall to bite back the slight amount of pain that comes with the Ghost’s sharp movements. It also stops you from banging it too hard. At this rate, his strong thrusts could give you a concussion if you’re not careful.
Jimin’s hip stutter momentarily and his speed slows, signaling that his hurtle towards his climax will begin if he doesn’t slow down. He wants to savoryou.
“What’s your name?” His breaths are deep and fast from the effort he’s put into breaking your back.
You release the wall and place your hand back on his hip, pushing him away and out of you so that you can turn around to face him.
Quickly, you unclip your holsters and shimmy your pants down to the floor with thoughts of getting this over with in mind. You laugh in disbelief as you step out of them. “Why the fuck would I tell you that?”
Your shadows encase him in their hold, pulling him to your body so that you can pull him back into you. When you look down, you almost forget how to breathe because of how delicious his dick looks, straining out from under his shirt and covered in your shiny slick.
He returns his hands to your hips and lifts, urging you to jump up. You follow his direction shortly after and lock your ankles behind his back.
“Because you are my solum.You are my only in this dimension.” Jimin sucks in air through his teeth as he lets his dick slide back into you. "You don’t have to hide your face from me.”
“Says you.” You crane your head back into the stall and revel in the feeling of your ass meeting his pelvis. Then, your clit rubs into his skin because of how deeply your body sucks him in.
No man has ever made you feel so full, so complete, and it’s a fullness that completely wipes you of common sense. A completion that penetrates so far that you can feel him in your heart.
You look down at where your bodies join and find that he does the same with eyes full of wonder. “Fuck, how can you fit all of me? This hasn’t-” His voice falters and his mouth lies agape whilst your walls involuntarily constrict around him for a moment. “Shit-this hasn’t happened before.”
Then, as if he’s just realized what you’ve said, he snaps his head up to look at you. His eyes pierce into you with a need to fill you. To fill your emptiness with him. To occupy all absence with presence. The look he gives you makes your toes curl and your breathing falter with anticipation. Those damned eyes.
“You don’t believe me?” He leans his body into yours and crushes you to the wall. “You don’t feel the singularity in your dustri?”
You grit your teeth in denial as he thrusts into you, shoving his dick into the wall of your womb like a promise. It demands to be noticed and addressed and persistently digs there to accompany his words to you.
“No.” You lie.
Because your pride won’t let you admit that you feel his umbra crowding the protective shell around your dustri like his dick adamantly presses into your cervix. It fights for any soft point on the surface, seeking a weakness to infiltrate and fill. He wants to take over your senses until you know nothing but him just like you did to him.
“Let me in.” He growls, pressing his teeth into the side of your neck where your tattoo lies. Then, he lowers his hands to the bottom of your ass and spreads it to allow him just the slightest bit more room. “Let me-” He rears back and returns with a punishingly deep stroke. “-In.”
Your thighs quiver, a motion set forth by the stab of the head of his dick into your fragility. It’s molten hot as you struggle to accommodate him gliding through your muscles and his umbra pressing forcefully against your dustri.
Tears collect in your eyes and you squeeze them shut in the fight to fend off the mindlessness. He deep strokes you passionately, roughly, and uses the slow rhythm as reprimand for your stubbornness.
His shadows crowd your vulnerable dustri, desperate to get inside, with such haste that you can physically feel them pouring like a torrent into your chest.
“Let me in. Let me see your face.” He whispers pleadingly.
Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opens and you whip your head to the sight of light pouring into the room. A silhouette takes a single step inside.
As if instinct takes over, your umbra bursts from within you and envelops the two of you. A maelstrom of darkness sweeps your senses and turns everything pitch black. Now that you have a hold on Jimin’s dustri, though, you are able to fully crowd him inside your dominion and pull him in with you.
Your back phases through the stall. Jimin follows as his fingers dig into your asscheeks.
A hum of environment licks against your skin as the man lets out a sound of shock and pulls back. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to be pulled into another Ghost’s dimension.
“Wha-how-” He stutters with wide eyes, dumbfounded.
“Summa Tenebris.” You answer him in a whisper, manipulating the small oblivion you have formed to keep your bodies separated from the light dimension.
The darkness cocoons you until you can see only him. As an extension of your being, it takes action when you do not, pressing against your backs and urging you into each other so that you can continue.
Jimin’s dick pulses against your insides with a newfound sense of privacy. No one will hear either of you now. You can make as much sound as you want without the risk of someone else feasting their eyes on your private moment. He does not further the conversation because he understands the magnitude of your power now.
“Let me in, me solum.” He breathes, although it is not with his voice that he says this. Your ears do not perceive the request because it is not audible. The sound of it does not pass through the pocket of space in your limitless darkness. Instead, his emotions tell you his request in a language you are all too familiar with.
Your eyes roll back in complete bliss as his dustri washes over your being. The darkness of Summa Tenebris vibrates with his energy coursing through it and it makes the surrounding area of your dimension fizzle with built-up power. His lips stay fused to your skin as he resumes his heavy pace into your body.
His voice is almost broken with effort. “Please.”
For the first time in years, you speak your mother tongue comfortably because it is the only way to get him to understand. You are buried so far in the throes of his passion that you can’t find enough focus to think of your past.
“It is too dangerous, Ghost.“ You gasp. "I cannot open myself to you.”
He cocks his head in concern and responds to you in the same dialect, slowing his pace. “Why, my only? Who else do you belong to that you cannot give yourself to me?”
Your instincts tell you to run. To shove the two of you back into the light dimension, pull your pants up, and leave him there so that you can avoid putting anyone in danger. You cannot tell him that you hold yourself back because you cannot risk Namjoon’s cover.
But his body inside yours, his blazing hot skin setting yours alight, his dustri willingly flowing through your bloodstream- the sensations keep you grounded in your oblivion and fused to him like an addicting drug that has hooked you for life. He is increasingly difficult to resist.
“You cannot know.” You say, your tongue curling around the Exspiravitian words like you never went a day without speaking it.
The language itself holds power within its articulation. The syllables carry a great energy that flows into instant understanding. Knowing his heartbreak with his question breaks you too, but him knowing why you cannot tell him sets the empathy in so fast that he seems to nod into the junction of your neck and shoulder.
He sighs, continuing his deliberate rhythm into your body as if he isn’t having a full conversation with you. “You are afraid the knowledge will hurt me.”
Jimin says the statement with disbelief, illuminating how preposterous the sentiment is to him. He wants to know you so that he may carry the burden of your identity alongside you. He believes that he can protect you from the secrets that you carry, but he is dead wrong.
You are the First Protector of the Cypher of Bangtan. You must protect Namjoon above anyone else.
“The knowledge will hurt you.” You breathe the sentence out haggardly as your pussy clenches around him more frequently. Your orgasm gradually approaches. “Do not get any closer.”
Suddenly, his dustri changes. You dig your nails into his back as he withdraws it from your dark clutches and pulls it back within his chest. You desperately grapple to hold onto it, yet his connection with his own dustri is too strong for you to maintain your possession of it.
Completely devoid of Jimin’s dustri yet overridden with his umbra, you wheeze weakly at the loss of his power in your dominion.
Ever so slowly, the two of you are brought back to the light dimension. You are powerful enough to maintain your own presence within your dimension, but without his dustri channeling more strength into your umbra, you can’t hope to maintain him with you. You’re left no choice but to follow with him physically connected to you.
The bathroom stall returns to your back, cold and hard as a harsh reminder that he withdrew his energy from you. Still, though, he longdicks you like he has a personal vendetta against you. You clutch onto him for dear life as your back shifts up and down the metal with each shcluck of his cock into your cunt.
“Youwillopen yourself to me.” He bites in English. No longer is the conversation intimate enough for the Exspiravitian tongue. “I will have you one day, Ghost.”
The lights to the bathroom have been turned on since your speedy escape from it, however, the person who occupied it before has since left.
In the light of reality, you feel the final moments of your buildup to your climax.
“How can you be so sure?” You almost yell out the question as his hips smash into your thighs and your belly pools with molten pleasure.
“Because,” His smile is devious and his arm maneuvers into the space between your bodies to land a thumb to your clit. The contact is loving compared to the force in his hips. “My mark will miss me too much.”
Even as he says the words, you find the pulsing of his mark over your sternum shocking. Somehow, within the last few minutes of your feverish fucking, he has implanted a sliver of his umbra into your tattooed skin to awaken it. It throbs throughout your body until it reaches down to where his thumb beckons for it on your clit.
With a choked gasp, you cum on his dick sharply.
Your nails rake into his shoulders and back as your spine bows your body into him, mark crying with the need to come into contact with him. It begs to be returned to the casing he has shielded his dustri with, but he pushes back against it to keep it embedded in your skin. Your body trembles and your muscles clench on him like a heavenly prison, yet he does not falter until his dick throbs in your vice.
“Fuck.” He whines. “Fuck.”
Jimin wraps his arms around you and presses himself close, using his arms as a means of keeping you locked against him while he empties himself inside of you. You have the fleeting thought that it is dangerous to be having sex with him unprotected- dustrial soulmates in your world are infamous when it comes to unplanned pregnancies after the first meeting- yet you quickly decide that you’ll make a stop at the pharmacy by your home to pick up a Plan B just to be safe.
The aftermath of your hookup sinks in as the seconds in Jimin’s embrace pass by. His skin is damp as he presses his forehead to your equally sweaty neck so that he can take a moment to catch his breath. You tip your head back into the stall and slow your breathing as well, taking the moment to stare at the ceiling with instant regret.
The door to the bathroom opens again yet you do not have the strength to pull Jimin into your dimension anymore. As the man walks in, you do your best to create a shadowed wall between the stranger and the two of you.
Jimin’s hold on your waist freezes as he sees the situation unfold right before his very eyes.
“Jimin?” The man calls. “You in here, bro?”
Because of your umbra, he cannot see either of you, but the sound waves produced by the man’s voice cause it to shudder weakly.
When he receives no answer, he leaves and the door swings shut.
“Your shadows can stay in the light?” He asks the question with his mouth agape in shock.
“It took years.” You reply. “Now get off of me and take your mark.”
He loosens his grip and lets you stand again so that you can put your pants and tactical belts back on.
In your hurry, you don’t notice that Jimin fixes his clothes back into place slowly because of his distracted stare on you.
“Your lips are pretty.” He whispers.
Immediately, you pull your shadows back over your face, unaware that you somehow revealed more of it to him.
But, yet again, it’s too late. He’s seen your eyes and lips due to your weakness for him and now it will be easier for him to identify you. It will be easier for him to see you even with your face fully concealed. Because he knows more of your face, your power has become more useless against him.
“I’m going to leave now.” You grunt. “Take your mark back.”
Jimin freezes for a moment, standing awkwardly, silently. He’s hesitating.
He inhales slowly, watching you fumble with the clasp to your gun belt, before puffing out a quiet ‘no.’
If he doesn’t take his mark from your body, he’ll be able to track you. An Exspiravitian mark has a mind of its own and maneuvers on its own accord. You can’t do your work properly if you have a parasitewithin your flesh.
“What? Take this shit back, boyscout.”
“I don’t want to.” He deadpans. His eyes are pensive.
You scoff and grab him by the front of his shirt, yanking him to you with your teeth bared.
“You see the tattoo on my neck; you see that I am Cypher. You wouldn’t dareleave that shit on me.”
Ever so slowly, Jimin’s poker face melts into a grin so smug that you would’ve smacked him if you didn’t have control over your anger.
“Oh, but I would,Ghost.” He lets his hand come up to encircle your wrist as you clutch his shirt tighter.
From turf wars on the boulevard to meetings on the southside, these seven bachelors have their hands full and their hearts empty. Love has no place in this world, but somehow its still managed to slip into their territory. Now Bangtan must prepare for the most brutal battle they have ever faced.
Tempers will flare, blood will shed, and love…it will tear them apart then put them together again. Will they be willing to go against everything they stand for to chase this new feeling? Or will they stick to the code and abandon what their lonely hearts truly desire?
