double dare, m | ksj, knj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader x namjoon
— also yoongi x reader, implied ot7 x reader

summary:Kim Seokjin calls to issue a challenge. A (double) dare, if you will. He says you can’t take two dicks at once. Kim Namjoon, his roommate, argues that you can. Well, you never back down from a dare, especially when it involves Seokjin and Namjoon.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, low-key horny crack + chaotic energy; smut (fem reader, doggy, threesome, slight D/s dynamics, mild restraint, nipple play, finger sucking, fingering, double penetration); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader, focusing on Seokjin and Namjoon in this one :D (coughwith some Yoongi)

’journey (to the dick)’ au aka you as the main character in harem hentai and BTS is your (horny af) harem

–

“Yah!”

Smack!

“What? Ah, f-fuck!”

“I need you to get over here. There is a particular matter that needs to be discussed,” came the very serious, no-nonsense tone from your phone, speaking rather sternly for someone who called you three times in a row and forced you to answer in the middle of your, ahem, dick appointment.

You were holding the phone in one hand and your other was on the bed, fingers clutching the sheets, jerked forward periodically with firm, hard thrusts.

Someone was shouting behind the one on the phone.

“I told hyung that you could take dick in both holes and he doesn’t believe me!”

You immediately recognized that deep, sultry voice in the background. Still, you needed to address the accusation first.

“Kim Seokjin,” you panted. “What the fuck?”

You could hearhis exaggerated eye roll. Well, you couldn’t, but you could, you know?

“Namjoon thinks you can take dick in the pussy and the ass at the same time,” Seokjin spat as if that was utter bullshit. “And that’s just not possible.”

Smack! “Why–” Smack! “Would–” Smack! “You–” Smack! “Think–” Smack! “I couldn’t – mmm, fuck, yes right theeere, fuck, so deep and so hard, ugh, you’re so good…”

Seokjin continued like you weren’t in the middle of getting fucked right that very second.

“Because, okay, you could take some small dick, sure, but us? Us? Come on, you totally couldn’t.”

“That was absolutely absurd of you to say so, Kim Seokjin,” you snapped, your words curling into a lustful moan as a firm hand pushed the small of your back down, forcing you to your elbow, leisurely spanking your ass hard with his open palm, keeping you on the edge, so close to hitting your peak but not quite there, thrusting steady but rough.

The headboard was hammering the wall at the same deliberate pace.

The neighbor who lived on the other side of the wall was cursing again.

“Are you both going to be home?” you gasped out, all of your muscles tensing. Almost…

Seokjin snorted. “Pfft, obviously, we are human beings who sleep, you know–”

“We’ll see about that.”

You hung up on him.

“I gotta go.”

Surprisingly, the deep, husky voice behind you actually responded.

“Afterthis one.”

“You asshole, you are holding out – a-ah, wait, oooooooh, fuck!”

-

“I took a shower, Yoongi helped me clean all my bits, I dried my hair, went back home to put on a fresh dress and you’re fucking ASLEEP, KIM SEOKJIN, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Zzzzzzz – guh!”

Total chaos as you threw yourself onto Kim Seokjin’s lap, disturbing the perfect image of self-proclaimed Worldwide Handsome laying on the couch covered with a fluffy white blanket and squishy alpaca plush with a red neck scarf tucked in his inner arm, grabbing said plush and smacking him with it repeatedly as Seokjin lost his shit, flailing about and throwing his arms over his head, wailing at you to stop. His roommate, Kim Namjoon, was unabashedly cackling like a lunatic behind you.

“CEASE AND DESIST!”

“You–”FWOOP! “Bossy–” FLOOP! “Pillow–” BOOP! “Princess!”

“Namjoon, h-help!”

“Hell no,” Namjoon snorted in laughter. “I’m having a great time watching.”

“Yah!”

“First you doubt me, then you fall asleep on me, what’s next, you–”

Seokjin grabbed both your wrists, thinking he had won, already cheering for himself, only for you to plant your tits right onto his handsome face, his nose jammed right into your cleavage because of the sweetheart neckline of your red lace dress, hot breath warming your chest, brown eyes wide, grip on your wrists lessening in his shock. You yanked your hands out and clutched his head, sinking your fingers into his black hair, violently muffling his half-squeal, half-moan with your breasts, blaringly obvious that you weren’t wearing a bra because your prominent nipples were already hard and creating stiff peaks under the fabric, poking him incessantly in the cheeks.

You gasped as another pair of strong hands grabbed your forearms and made you release Seokjin’s head, forcing them up and your back to arch. A deep voice dipped down to caress your ear, not paying attention to Seokjin who did not detach himself from your tits.

He was making the most of it while you were distracted.

“Woah there, what do you think you’re doing?” Namjoon drawled, grip tightening, bending your arms back, elbows up, pressing your wrists to your upper back. “That’s not a punishment.”

You tried to breathe but Namjoon’s heavenly deep voice was taking your breath away.

“You know what punishments are.”

He pressed your head back, leaving your arms the way they were, and Namjoon’s sultry eyes appeared, half-lidded brown orbs completely visible because he had cut his hair very short now, dark gray-brown and spiked up, cocking an eyebrow at you. You whimpered at his gaze, suddenly feeling hotness on the curve of your breast, lips pressed to one of your nipples, and then wetness closing in, sucking you through lace and satin, the short flared skirt rising because of your spread thighs, but there was too much fabric between you and Seokjin’s hardness, the blanket and pajama pants and boxer briefs, so frustrating, about to lower your head to rectify that, but Namjoon’s palm pressed into your chin, fingers closing in around your cheeks, immobile.

“Where do you think you’re looking?”

Every time Namjoon smirked, one of his dimples peeked out at you. Ugh, so sexy.

“I… I’m s-supposed to be punishing Seokjinnie…” you gasped out, feeling said man’s teeth nicking at your nipple through your dress, his large hands closing in on your waist, pulling you closer, causing you to bend back more, unable to escape Namjoon’s grip and gaze.

Namjoon tilted his head, amused. “Yeah? Were you so, so mad that hyung wasn’t awake so you could show off how well you can take it in both holes?”

You didn’t want to whine and be pathetic, but Seokjin’s mouth and hands were all over your breasts and waist, pinching you through your clothes and sucking on the hard nubs, rushes of pleasure clouding your head and making you forget your defiance, remembering all the things Namjoon liked, like when you were so drunk on sex that you just gave into him, now whimpering and opening your mouth, your tongue sliding out, feeling him shift his palm, Namjoon’s finger leisurely tracing your lips. Your tongue followed, licking the pads of his fingers, rolling your body into Seokjin’s mouth, wanting to grab his shoulders but not letting yourself do so because Namjoon hadn’t allowed you to do so yet.

He liked you bad, but he also liked you obedient.

“W… Want it…”

You felt Namjoon’s other hand tangle in your hair, fingers molding to your scalp, sliding two of his long fingers into your mouth and making you suck on them, your eyelids fluttering as he fucked your mouth with his fingers, rubbing your tongue, pushing your arms down, your name growled by that deep, deep voice.

“Look at me.”

You fixated your eyes on Namjoon’s stern expression, shuddering as you felt Seokjin push the sleeves of your dress down, scooping out your breasts, moaning as his lips touched your skin, hot tongue teasing your hard nipples and you couldn’t tell him to do more or less, trapped by Namjoon’s fingers in your mouth and his hand in your hair, tugging at it lightly so you sucked his fingers like a cock, vision hazing out at the helplessness of it all.

Voluntary helplessness, to be clear.

“You want it? You had Yoongi-hyung fucking you earlier and now you want more? So dirty and so insatiable,” Namjoon taunted, not meaning it of course, because how could he mean it when he too wanted it all, knew you were insatiable and loved it as much as the rest of them, addicted to the feeling you gave him, pushing your head down, fingers still in your mouth. Seokjin raised his head, black hair, large brown eyes, pink lips lush and full and gorgeous, meeting the image of fingers sliding in and out of your glossy lips, your eyes glassy and reflected in his.

Namjoon pushed his fingers apart, opening your mouth.

Your tongue lolled out, swiping around his knuckle, staring into Seokjin’s eyes.

“F… Fuck…”

The oldest was dirty-minded but resistant in showing it, clenching his jaw, weakening as your fingers danced up his arms and you moaned his name messily between Namjoon’s long wet digits, tits pushed up by the neckline of your dress straining under them, knowing your sensuality was irresistible and infectious, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I still… don’t think you can take us both at once…” he breathed, staring into your eyes.

You smirked, Namjoon’s fingers sliding out, saliva smearing onto your chin, the taste of his skin on your tongue.

“Only one way to find out.”

And you leaned in and kissed those perfect lips, soft and passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around him, fingers splaying over his back and in his hair, his name trapped in the kiss, sudden hardness pressing to your back, breaking the first kiss and turning your head to be trapped in another, full lips commanding the lip-lock, two different hands on your breasts, Seokjin and Namjoon toying with them, the rush of pleasure only just beginning.

-

“Whose face am I looking at?”

“Obviouslymine,” Seokjin scoffed. “Do you even have to ask?”

You gasped. “But Namjoon is so handsome.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you want him to make you look at him, so that completely defeats the purpose of being forced when the default is you facing him.”

“Also, hyung thinks he’s the most handsome,” Namjoon chuckled, tugging your dress off, kisses across your chest as it left your body, hands travelling to push your panties down.

“No,” Seokjin choked, affronted as you moaned and gripped Namjoon’s shoulders, enjoying his powerful grip. “I am not that self-centered. I just happen to like how Ilook very much. Namjoon is very handsome, capable, and intelligent.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Namjoon shoved a finger inside your wetness, making you stumble into the sofa, raising your leg to place it against Seokjin’s naked thigh, almost falling if it wasn’t for your ass being suddenly grabbed by Seokjin’s firm hands.

“You are still clumsy, Namjoon,” Seokjin sighed, lowering you slightly to look over your shoulder.

You reached back and held onto the sofa, Namjoon’s mouth on your nipple and his finger in your soaked pussy, thrusting deeply to match his swiping tongue, maddeningly slow but rough, so dangerous, losing your mind at the leisurely pace, trying to buck your hips to get more but Seokjin’s hands were preventing you.

You heard the oldest huff and make a disapproving tongue click.

“Not like that. She likes it faster than that.”

Namjoon knew that. Obviously.

Your eyes widened.

He smirked around your nipple as one of Seokjin’s hands left your ass.

“Seok– oh, fuuuck!”

You gasped as you felt another finger enter your dripping pussy, another finger of a different hand, stretching your walls and a different pace, faster, your eyes rolling back, head hitting Seokjin’s shoulder, but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care, your moans in his ear, Namjoon matching the rhythm, oh, shit, they were fingering you together, Seokjin from between your legs from behind and Namjoon from the front, the backs of their hands slick with your juices, Seokjin’s other hand still squeezing one ass cheek and Namjoon’s other hand on your waist, his mouth on your breasts.

“Come on, I know you’re close,” Seokjin muttered, exhaling hard. “I can feel your pussy sucking me in, asking for dick already.”

He was not normally one for dirty talk, but sometimes Seokjin let himself got lost in the lust, lost in the moment of your throbbing walls and shaking body, moans of their names tumbling from your lips, filling up their living room with obscenity and depravity, thrusting in unison, loud and wet and heavy breathing blending with your sound, pushed to the edge, thighs tensing, electricity flashing throughout your nerves.

“Namjoon, Seokjin, fuck!”

Wet squelch, sweet gush of your juices soaking their hands, your eyes rolling back, yelping as Namjoon’s hand retreated and Seokjin stuffed another finger in you. You didn’t need to say it, one glance at Namjoon and he could see it, harder, hyung, she can take it, gasping as Seokjin obeyed and Namjoon’s wet fingers pressed onto your throbbing clit, wild howl at the contact, sparks of sensitivity because it was right after your orgasm, heat at your neck from Seokjin’s cheeks, his teeth finding your shoulder, biting it, maybe from his realization of how crazy this moment was or in the heated moment of wanting to feed you even more pleasure, but the sharp unexpected pain only hiked your moans, Namjoon rubbing your clit as Seokjin shoved his fingers into you hard and fast, the angle a little awkward but there was so much going on that it didn’t matter, already there once again, obsessed with the overabundance of ecstasy, I’m cumming, fuck, Namjoon, Seokjin, a-ah, clit engorged and pulsing strongly to Namjoon’s punishing touch, words jumbled and woven with breathless cries, orgasm crashing down and soaking Seokjin’s hand once more, thick and sweet and honey-like, viscous juices clinging to your inner thighs, painted with your high.

Namjoon leaned in, silencing your shuddering gasps with his mouth, deep kisses and swirling tongue dazing you, aftershocks flinching through your torso as he pressed his fingertips to your jerking core, lowering you from the crashing waves, whispering darkly against your lips.

“We haven’t even started.”

Releasing you, and you were already turning around, meeting Seokjin’s gaze and his panting smile, kissing it, sighing contentedly in his touch, just something about those lips and his large frame surrounding you, something about the way he shivered when you sucked his breath away and drank it, almost innocent, but not that innocent, because the second your wandering hand found the condom on the sofa and pressed it into his palm, his lips curved into a teasing grin, nipping at yours.

“Already?” he teased.

You reached between you and him, fingers ghosting his length, smirking at Seokjin’s gasp, gazing at him under your lashes.

“You get hard from kisses, Seokjinnie.”

“I – gah, d-don’t…”

But he didn’t mean it, of course not, because he was humping your hand that was closing around his hot, hardening cock, stroking him slowly from base to tip, spreading the pre-cum over the sensitive head, his jaw clenching at the feeling, desire and need clouding his eyes, pupils blown-out, ripping open the foil packet, heavier exhales, staring into your eyes.

“You want to look at me that bad, huh?” he breathed against your lips, fishing for it.

You gave it to him, exactly what he wanted.

“Mhm, Seokjin, I want to look at your handsome, perfect face while you fuck my pussy and Namjoon fucks my ass.”

He sucked in a breath, caught in his throat.

“You’re crazy, but so, so hot.”

Eh, you’ll take it.

You moved your hand and he rolled the condom down, yelping as you captured his lips again, addicted to his kiss and his soft cries, his hand and your hand guiding his stiff cock to your quivering pussy, already saturated with slickness, spread knees and lowering body, sinking down onto him, moaning into his mouth and he moaned into your throat, suffocating each other with your noises, rolling your hips and breaking the kiss, both of your faces pointed to heaven with the true heaven between your connected hips, pleasure at being filled and doing the filling, his hands on your ass to push you down.

“Hyung, spread her ass,” Namjoon ordered behind you.

You pitched forward slightly, wrapping your arms around Seokjin’s shoulders, gasping as you felt him tug outwards, sinking his fingers into your softness, your lips pressed to his cheek, his sweet voice murmuring your name, filling you with warmth despite being exposed so vulnerably.

You inhaled deeply, breathing in Seokjin’s clean scent.

Then you flexed your asshole, tightening and relaxing the ring of muscle.

“Fuck, that’s so sexy.”

You gazed at him in your periphery, eyes widening as you realized Namjoon too was naked now, muscular body towering behind you, flicking open a bottle of lube and spreading it over his fingers, rubbing them together as they became shiny and slippery, catching your interested expression.

He smirked, dimple on display. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready since I walked in the door, Namjoon,” you smirked back, enamored with his seductive dark brown eyes.

He chuckled.

“Nah, you were ready the second Seokjin challenged you and said you couldn’t do it.”

Oops, he got ya.

You gasped hotly, feeling his fingers press up against your tight hole, tracing circles and teasing you, pushing into your ass in the opposing rhythm of Seokjin’s rocking hips, your hold on Seokjin’s shoulders tightening, hearing him gasp with you, watching two Namjoon’s fingers dip in and snake into the tightness, both of them inhaling sharply at the sound, wet squelch and your wanton cry, your hips rocking into it, pleasure shimmering all over.

“T-That’s still not a dick,” Seokjin managed to get out, still stubborn but mixed with awe regardless.

“Gotta stretch her out,” Namjoon chuckled. “Don’t wanna hurt our good girl, right?”

Well, if you weren’t in euphoria before, you definitely were there now.

“N… Namjoon-ah…”

“Shh, I got you, just enjoy.”

You arched your back a little more, Seokjin sliding down to accommodate, slowly thrusting and gasping at the sensation, turning to him and intense kisses, needing to occupy your mouth, fullness in your ass and your pussy, whimpering as your felt Namjoon’s fingers flex, nudging your muscles to relax, core throbbing, clenching around Seokjin’s stiff length instead, so good, oh, yes, it was so good, his kisses and slapping your hips down, wanting more, already chasing more, intoxicated by the feeling of both your holes being filled.

You heard the bottle of lube fall to the floor and the slick sound of hand on hardness.

Shivers up and down your spine.

“Say it.”

You broke Seokjin’s kiss, gasping.

“Tell us that you want it,” Namjoon growled.

Drunk on the idea, commanded by lust.

“P-Please, Namjoon…” you breathed, eyes hazy and half-lidded, staring at Seokjin. “Want you to fuck my ass as Seokjin fucks my pussy. Want you two to ruinme.”

The brown eyes beneath you widened, mouthing, you’re crazy.

You grinned, Namjoon’s fingers buried in your ass.

“Told you, hyung.”

His fingers pulled out, pushing the small of your back down with his palm. One a second to mourn the loss and then your eyes widened, the thick head of Namjoon’s cock pressed against your ass.

Wait, maybe you should have asked if Namjoon could be in your puss–

Too late.

“Oh,f-fuck!”

You clutched Seokjin’s shoulders, digging your nails into him as slowly, carefully, Namjoon’s girth entered your tight, tight hole, still tight even through he worked you up and stretched you out, the lube helping him slip inside, your mind going blank, realizing that maybe you went over your head a little, but too far to turn back and, to be honest, you didn’t want to turn back, the fullness already too good to regret it, gasping as Namjoon gripped your hips, holding you completely still as he bottomed out, hot breath on your shoulder blades.

Well.

Your mind wasn’t so blank that you forgot to speak.

“Still…” you panted, slowly grinning at Seokjin’s shocked and stunned face, his jaw dropped as he felt and witnessed it. “Think it’s impossible for me to take dick in both holes?”

“Y-Y-You…” he sputtered, choking a little as Namjoon began to move, his scrambled words mixing with your lustful moans. “Are absurd.”

It was almost too much, but Namjoon did not let you command the pace, instead firmly keeping you in one spot as he nudged Seokjin to move, guiding you both expertly, groaning when you pulsated around the two dicks, able to feel the reverberations from the closeness, body to body to body, trembling from the overwhelming sensation, Seokjin thrusting up from below, his handsome face tense, panting with effort.

“Oh, fuck… it’s so tight… fuck, I can feel it, I can feel his dick fucking your ass, that’s so weird…”

You weren’t quite sure what he expected to feel. What did Seokjin originally think he was getting into when he called you? He was the one who had been touting their superior size! What did he think it would feel like–?!

“A-Ah, y-yes, there, like that, oh f-fuck, like thaaaaaaat…”

You forgot about questioning Seokjin’s brain, refocusing on the feeling of the consistent thrusting and depth of the two cocks, an almost melodic rhythm and substantial fullness. There was a sweet spot, right, oh, there, Namjoon’s hand flat against your back, his deep grunts of effort paired with each smack of hips to ass and Seokjin’s crotch to yours.

Oh, huh, were those loud, pitched moans resonating off the apartment walls you? But the ecstasy too high, too real, too good, so good that you seemed to forget that it was already very late at night.

Surelytheirneighbors would complain – was that part of your brand now? oops – but it seemed that neither Seokjin or Namjoon noticed or cared, pants and moans and groans and chasing carnal pleasure, irrational, wild, heads thrown back, lashes fluttering and lost in bliss, stuffing your tight, wet heat from both holes, kissing Seokjin sloppily before turning your head to make out with Namjoon, his teeth trapping your tongue and sucking on it, gargled moan and shaking body at the mercy of his iron grip, snapping back to Seokjin’s pillowy lips, juxtaposition of hard and soft, crashing pleasure and coiled constriction, letting go, orgasm overtaking you in shudders, not realizing you had been so close, their names falling from your throat between fucked-out, loud, blissful cries.

“Seokjin…Namjoon…”

Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but peak in that gratifying elation, shivers up and down your spine, the lower half of your body throbbing and trembling, chin lowering only to witness Seokjin shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw, groaning out your name as he shot into the condom, jerking cock twitching inside you, vibrating front to back, no, that was Namjoon’s low hiss of your name, his fingernails digging in your hips he shot into your ass, your eyes snapping open, thick spurts of his orgasm so strong that you could feel his cock twitching deep inside, your pulse roaring in your ears, chest heaving, struggling for breath.

Feeling far too proud that they both came with you.

Namjoon’s sweaty chest hit your back, sandwiching you between that big body and Seokjin’s broad shoulders. Seokjin looked to be two seconds away from passing out from the ecstasy of orgasm.

Nice.

“Don’t… question me… again,” you snickered, panting heavily.

Seokjin mumbled and shrugged, incoherent.

“I think he’s saying you could do this, but not the reverse of him in the ass and me in the pussy,” Namjoon clarified, kissing your shoulders with an amused chuckle.

“What?!” you roared.

“That’s n-not…!”

Welp.

-

“We still have unfinished business.”

“Yoongi, I just got DP’ed last night. Have mercy.”

“Mmm.”

Kisses on your neck, lowering the strap of your bra, wrapping his arms around you, purring your name.

“I guess you can buy me dinner and we can watch a movie instead.”

“I have to buy?!”

–

masterpost

pairing(s):seokjin x reader

summary: As usual, Kim Seokjin can’t wait for a hairstylist to cut his hair. But instead of cutting it himself with kitchen scissors over the sink, he convinces you to do it.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, smut (fem reader, vanilla); idol!BTS; established relationship; Seokjin is ridiculous and so am I, sorry not sorry

–

“Don’t ruin it!”

“Seokjin, why even ask me then?”

“Because I want you to do it.”

You were crouched over your boyfriend with a pair of hair cutting scissors and a comb.

“Just ask your hairstylist!”

“But you’re the love of my life,” he whined, wiggling around in the chair. “Come on.”

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” you muttered as you combed his bangs for the hundredth time. Had you ever cut hair before? No. Had Kim Seokjin somehow convinced you it would be a great idea to trim his bangs? Unfortunately, yes. They weren’t that long but they covered his eyes and he was annoyed by them so clearly you had to rectify the situation.

“What if it looks terrible?” you winced.

“It can’t look terrible. I’m World Wide Handsome.”

Oh, my God. You gave him a look, the look that you always gave him when he said something like that, but he laughed like it always did, giving you a thumbs up. It made you look up into the mirror and stare at your own reflection as if you were in a sitcom.

Shaking your head, you used the comb to lift the hair from his face. He stared up at you, making you nervous.

“Close your eyes,” you scolded.

“I want to see,” he pouted.

“I don’t want to make you blind with your own hair. Close your eyes.”

He frowned, but obeyed. You had watched YouTube videos for this, which was clearly enough training for you to embark on this journey. You hesitantly made the first cut. He screamed.

“I swear, Seokjin, stop it!”

If you weren’t used to his antics, you probably would have chopped off a whole chunk. He was laughing at you, but you ignored him, point cutting to fix the bluntness of your mistake. You kept going, snipping delicately, focused on your task. It wasn’t as hard as you thought. Seokjin had thick hair, but it was also over-processed even though it was dyed black. It made things a little easier, as his hair needed the trim.

“I can see down your shirt.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you said absentmindedly.

“Take it off so I have something to look at.”

You stopped for a moment, giving him that look again. He giggled.

“You look so funny.”

You combed through his bangs to get the loose hairs off. “Better?”

He turned his head to look in the mirror, mussing with the front of his neatly-combed hair. He stood up and shook his white t-shirt, checking himself out. For a second, you wondered if he was actually looking at his hair or his own face.

“Thank you,” he finally said, grinning. “Now you can see my sparkling eyes.”

You wanted to facepalm and your expression reflected it. Seokjin clapped and laughed, knowing you were doing it sarcastically. You didn’t actually think it was lame. Couldn’t egg him on too much though; Seokjin could praise himself for hours and sometimes you just wanted to eat dinner.

You swept the fallen hair with a broom as Seokjin poked your side.

“Okay, what do you want?” he said cheerfully, looping his arms around your waist as you struggled to gather the hair on the floor.

You made the awkward waddle to the trashcan to toss the hair. “I don’t need anything, Seokjin. Thank you is enough.”

He picked you up, broom and all, and spun you around. You groaned exaggeratedly, pretending to wobble as he put you down. He laughed, pressing his forehead against yours. The broom clattered to the floor, but you both ignored it.

“I’m ancient,” you complained. “Don’t do that.”

“Hey!” He gently headbutted you. “There’s no way you’re ancient if I’m still young.”

You laughed, softly headbutting him back. “Weren’t you the one complaining to Big Hit that you were getting old and there was too much dancing?” you teased.

“They’re really difficult!” he whined.

“Yeah, yeah, but you always look perfect, so that means you can do it, right?” You nudged him, making his ears red.

“Ah, well, of course,” he stuttered. “I am BTS Jin after all.” He placed his hands on his hips and grinned proudly.

You looked up at him with a smile, not teasing this time. Maybe he drove you crazy but you loved him more than anything else in the world. It was always fun to be around him. He was ridiculous and never boring, always keeping you on your toes. You wanted him to keep smiling and always tried to make him happy when he was down.

He placed his chin between his index and thumb, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “What are you thinking about? Falling more in love with me?”

You laughed and shoved him lightly. He pulled you along, bumping you into his chest, showering you with light kisses. You smiled against his lips, kissing him a little harder. He stiffened, surprised. Seokjin could be overtly flirty, but when it came to the first move, well…

That might have been your instigation.

He looked at you curiously and you kissed him again. He had full, plush lips that were fun to kiss, and he always seemed stunned that you wanted to kiss him. You broke apart, looking up at him lovingly.

“Hey, Seokjin,” you murmured.

His eyes went round with curiosity. “Hm?”

“I kind of… maybe… really love you,” you dragged out, tongue cheekily between your teeth. You were making fun of his confession, way back then.

He puffed his cheeks at you. “Hey! That’s not nice!”

“I know,” you chuckled. The response you gave when he confessed, in true Han Solo fashion. You two were having a Star Wars marathon, after all.

“Yah, you’re so annoying!” he whined, tugging on your sleeves as he dragged you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. You tackled him, laughing, making him stumble onto the bed as you ferociously nuzzled him. You kissed him, cupping his face with your hands, pinkies rubbing his red ears. Despite saying you were annoying, he kissed you back, smiling against your lips. You broke the kiss, kissing his cheeks and ears, nipping at his earlobe playfully.

“Maybe I’ll show you what’s under my shirt after all,” you purred, pressing your body on top of his.

He groaned, his hands sliding up your sides. You liked being on top of him, but it was preventing you from removing his shirt, so you sat up and yanked your t-shirt over your head. You tugged at his and he wiggled out of it, tossing it aside. Both of you were only wearing underwear underneath.

You placed your hands on his broad shoulders and slid your hips down, stopping at his growing erection.

“O-oh?” You grinned. “Just from kissing?”

The red was slowly beginning to creep to his cheeks. “You’re b-basically naked too!”

You tilted your head as if you were thinking. “You’re right.” Tucking your tongue between your lips, you reached back and undid your bra. It slid off your shoulders and you tossed It aside, bouncing your chest on purpose.

He moaned, seeing your nipples bounce in the air. Seokjin might be good at body rolls, but there was nothing he enjoyed more when you did it with your bra off. You grinned and cupped your breasts with your hands, bouncing them more vigorously.

“Okay, that’s it,” he declared, grabbing you by the shoulders and flipping the two of you around, pressing you onto the bed. He was bigger than you, but it was comforting to look at him. Not to mention fun to see the slight desperation in his eyes.

He leaned down to kiss you before moving down your jaw and neck, running his hot tongue against your cool skin. You shivered, feeling his breathing, the light nip against your collarbone. Down the crevice of your breasts before stopping and licking up your sternum, blowing softly on the wet skin.

“Seokjin…”

He was deliberate and calm, driving you crazy. Slow, languid lick to your nipple before taking it in his mouth, flicking it lightly with his tongue. There was a little nervousness as he reaches up to slowly rub your other nipple. It was a sweet and innocent movement, and secretly it turned you on. You ran your hands through his hair, pressing into his mouth, whimpering softly to encourage him. He licked more roughly and you purred, sliding your other hand down his side and running your nails across his skin.

He released you, breathing your name softly before lapping at your other nipple, playing with the tip as he looked up at you with his round brown eyes.

“Hm?”

He rested his chin on your stomach. “Can I be inside you now?” he pouted. “I’m horny.’

You laughed, nodding. That was your cue to reach over and grab a condom from the bedside table, only to turn back to his underwear suddenly vanishing. Your mouth turned into a small ‘o’, impressed.

“A good magic trick, Kim Seokjin. Can I hire you for my birthday party?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “If you’re going to be naked at your birthday party, of course.”

You removed your panties, amused. “It would have to be a private birthday party then.”

He put the condom on and then grabbed your thighs, sighing at the fullness of them. He always enjoyed your thighs and how juicy they felt in his hands. “Only the best for my love,” he whispered affectionately, positioning himself at your entrance.

“Oh? Missionary?” you quipped, raising your legs.

His ears reddened. “I like watching your breasts bounce,” he said, flustered. You also knew he liked your legs pressed against his torso. He liked to feel them against him as he fucked you.

He entered you slowly, for you and for him, both of you moaning as he filled you up. Your eyelids fluttered closed, feeling him adjust to touch your sensitive spot. He began to move and you squeezed him, making him gasp.

“Stop that,” he panted, thrusting slowly.

“Don’t want to,” you replied, rolling your hips up to meet his.

“You’re actually going to be the death of me,” Seokjin whined. “You’re so tight.”

You placed your arms above your head so he could see your breasts bounce with each thrust. “I have to practice for the love of my life.”

His eyes fixated on your chest, shuddering. “Or you could not drive me crazy for once.” Without meaning to, he began to increase his pace, thrusting harder and faster.

You gasped, so focused on his movements that you didn’t reply. He hit the spot you liked so much and your breath hitched, panting out his name like a prayer. Again, and again, harder, rougher.

“Say my name again, love,” he growled, pressing down. He crouched down and sucked on your nipple, hard, while simultaneously fucking you senseless.

“Fuck, Seokjin, fuck,” you moaned, clutching onto the pillows as he lifted his head, brows knitted in concentration. He felt so good, so right as his cock twitched inside you, the head rubbing against your sensitive walls. You were getting wetter, the orgasm hitting you out of nowhere, making you whine as your pussy pulsed around him, juices leaking down.

“That’s it,” he breathed, sweat glistening on his brow. The obscene, wet slapping sounds were almost too much for him.

“Seokjin, ah, I’m going to–”

He moaned as you came again, tightening around him, shuddering with pleasure. He grunted and slammed into you one last time, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave. It racked his entire body, filling him with satisfaction and bliss. You pushed your hair back, looking up to see his bangs tangled with sweat and plastered to his forehead. You chuckled, smiling at him.

“You’ve gone and ruined my hard work,” you complained.

Seokjin grinned devilishly. “And I’d do it again.”

–

masterpost

pairing(s):seokjin x reader, mentions of past hoseok x reader

summary: Kim Seokjin goes through anger, fear, and inappropriate arousal and, quite frankly, he’s not sorry about it (well, he is a little sorry). It’s a roller coaster.

warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, violence, mentions of past cheating, smut (a little bit of a praise kink, cowgirl, repeated orgasms)

–

The air itself was tense.

He paced the front hallway after forcing the guards to make themselves scarce. He wasn’t wearing his tie and his blazer was somewhere in the house. That left him in his black suit pants and dark blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. If he was in his right mind, he would have cleaned himself up, perhaps made himself look less agitated as he waited.

You shouldn’t have let her go, Seokjin.

He was scolding himself. He should have trusted his instincts, but instead he let her go. He checked his phone again and there was the feed of the camera showing her leaving her house.

Moments before, he had the urge to call her suddenly, practically growling his instructions.

“Get your ass over here now and bring the week’s supply. All of it.”

He wasn’t even sure she was going to listen to him. But she was leaving her apartment. He shouldn’t have installed that camera outside her apartment, but he also didn’t give a single shit. He needed the peace of mind. He needed it.

He knew how selfish he was. Childish even. He knew it was wrong, all of it. He shouldn’t have kept her around after what happened to Hoseok. He shouldn’t have guilted her into staying a runner. He shouldn’t order her not to be touched, he shouldn’t touch her himself, and he shouldn’t, for fuck’s sake, give her continued access to cocaine.

But he did.

He rubbed his forehead, taking a deep breath. He knew he wasn’t a nice man. Maybe it was how he grew up – privileged and the youngest. Always fawned on and treasured. He had no cares in the world. He thought he could have whatever he wanted because money brought everything. And when money didn’t, well, emotions could be manipulated.

He knew he was deplorable. But none of that stopped him.

She wasn’t an addict. Fuck, she practically hated substances now. He knew she kept doing what he asked because she wanted to watch over her customers, wanting to check up on them even if it was to be the next dose. Seokjin knew how twisted that was. A drug dealer who cares because she couldn’t talk them out of the habit. She couldn’t stop them but maybe she could control their dose. And that was fucked up and he let it continue because he wanted to see her, even if she low-key hated his guts.

He really was the worst.

She was supposed to be his. But then she had met Hoseok, friend of a friend, and everything went to shit. He took the scraps he could get. He wasn’t proud of it. He made her do things sometimes when Hoseok was craving it really bad. Memories she probably buried so deep so she couldn’t remember them. And then Hoseok didn’t come to him one time, just once, and everything got even shitter, if possible.

He thought he could live like that. He thought he could continue being like that.

But this time was different. This time he could feel it. He didn’t know what she could do, but there was something different in her eyes this time. He hadn’t counted on that. He hadn’t counted on maybe, just maybe, she would stop this cycle herself.

He scowled, pacing more intensely now. Even now, he was sure of it. She didn’t like to admit it, but he knew her well and saw through her feeble attempts to hide her emotions. He had ignored it, but, of course, it steadily got worse. Each time he saw her, it was like a little more of her died inside. He thought she would get over it. She was a strong person. He had always admired that. Perhaps strong wasn’t the right word. Stubborn.

He punched the wall and growled. The pain felt like nothing compared to the heightening fear inside him. A fear he veiled in anger, the only way he knew how to deal with it.

The knock on the door was sharp.

It cut him out of his thoughts. A few swift strides and he practically ripped the door open. She was breathing hard through the black face mask, cheeks red from running. Grey sweatshirt and long grey shorts. He remembered that outfit. For once, however, her hands were bare. She had forgotten to wear her usual black gloves. She always wore them because she did not like handling the product directly. Fingerprints and shit like that. She looked surprised to see him opening the door.

Without greeting, he grabbed the front of the sweatshirt and dragged her inside, slamming the front door and locking it.

“Seokjin, what the–”

He shoved her into the wall, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped, head hitting the wall and seeing stars.

“Did you fucking bring it?”

“Fucking hell,” she swore, trying to blink her eyesight straight. “Yes, I brought it, you–”

He shoved her up the wall, taking the face mask off her roughly. He stared into her eyes, which were looking in every direction, getting back into focus. He checked her lips, her nose.

“Seokjin, are you trying to kill me? Fucking shit,” she groaned, shaking her head.

“Do I need to try if you were planning on doing it yourself?” he growled.

The air seemed to drop by ten degrees. Shock, and then shame flitted across her expression. She wasn’t looking at him. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off.

“Lie to me. I fucking dare you.”

She closed her mouth and swallowed. Then she looked up at him. A little bloodshot. Focused and so dark that it ate him up inside seeing that. There was brightness there once. Life.

“Give it to me.”

He held one hand out but the other didn’t let go of her sweatshirt. Wordlessly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded handkerchief. She opened it in his hand. There it was. The packet of cocaine and a bottle of pills. The bottle rolled off his hand and fell to the floor, but he ignored it. He was looking at the plastic bag.

“You opened it.”

“I put it back,” she shot back.

He slammed his fist into her sternum, making her gasp painfully. “How much did you take?”

She suddenly shoved him, tone rising in rage. “I said I put it back, you asshole!”

He threw the packet at her, missing and hitting the wall. “Did you now? Suddenly a good girl?” he mocked, eyes narrowing.

“Fuck you, Seokjin! I’m not a fucking addict like you!”

Unfazed, he raised a finger, pointing at her. “At least I’m not addicted to actively punishing myself mentally and physically over nothing.”

“Nothing?” she hissed, slapping his finger away and shoving him again. “Nothing? You fucking cold-hearted, greedy shit, always acting high and mighty,” she shouted, clenching her fists. “As if you fucking know. As if you would ever have a clue what it was like to be in love.”

“I know,” he scowled. “I watched you and Hoseok frolic around until the end.”

“You–” She tried to slap him, but he dodged out of the way. She glared and turned around, obviously intending to head out. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

“Let me go,” she snapped, trying to punch him but he caught her hand in mid-air, squeezing it uncomfortably.

“You know you can’t actually land a hit on me unless I let you.” His voice was low, dangerous.

She stopped struggling and just glowered at him, clenching her jaw. “What are you going to do? Keep me prisoner?”

“Maybe I should. Prevents you from doing anything stupid.”

She was breathing hard. He was much bigger and stronger than she was. His broad shoulders towered over her, and his grip was tight and unrelenting. She changed her tone.

“Why do you care?” She narrowed her eyes. “Can’t have your precious runner die on you?”

He scoffed. “I have many more, better runners who service many more customers than you.”

“Then why does it matter?” she challenged. “I’m just a pawn in your game. Just let me die in peace.”

His blood ran cold. She cemented the worst with those words.

“You’re so caught up in Hoseok’s death that you think about nothing else,” he breathed through gritted teeth.

Her dark eyes flashed. “And why does that matter? You couldn’t give two shits Hoseok died. It only meant I wasn’t going to suck your dick or let you finger fuck me in an alley anymore.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Her eyes widened at the sharp retort. He was staring at her with a mixture of fury and despair.

“Your head is so far up your ass you didn’t even think to look around you.” He released her suddenly, pushing her away from him. “You think I don’t know what love is?” he asked, voice breaking a little as she looked at him, mouth open in shock. He huffed, shaking his head. “I love you. I always have, from the moment I saw you. You can stand there and deny it all you want, but you know it’s true.” He sighed, frowning. “But then you met Hoseok and you instantly fell in love with him. And, shit, Hoseok was a great guy. What was I supposed to do? Not let the women I love be happy?”

“You… you made me do all kinds of sexual favors for you,” she sputtered.

He raised an eyebrow. “And? You were begging for cocaine to feed your boyfriend’s bad habits. You think I would let you have that for free without benefiting off of it?” He chuckled, half in disbelief and half in his own shame. “Are you a saint? You were poisoning my friend right in front of my fucking face.” He cocked his chin at her. “It’s not like you were poor. You have money. You did it anyway.”

Her lips trembled. She looked from the ground to the wall and then to him. “B-but…”

“I should have stopped you both,” he continued, sighing again. “I should have cut him off and I should have made you break up with him. I saw where it was going.” He ran his fingers through his hair, dismayed. “I should have done something. Maybe he wouldn’t be dead. Maybe you wouldn’t be like this.”

“I… I haven’t changed.”

“Haven’t changed?” he snorted disbelievingly. “You’re a shell of a person. You live in Hoseok’s shadow, trapping yourself in there.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Wake up.”

She lifted her head, dark orbs to his. It hurt him to see her like this. It hurt him to know it was partially his fault. Maybe he couldn’t stop her one day in the future. Maybe one day he would be too late and then he would turn into her. Pure apathy, navigating life but not caring for it.

Her head fell. They both knew they had made terrible choices. He exhaled and placed his forehead on top of her head, closing his eyes. Her hair smelled good, a gentle herbal scent.

“Please… I don’t want you to die,” he whispered. The emotion was seeping into his voice, anger dissipating into sadness. It was hurting him so much. He never told her because he didn’t want to burden her with his sorrows too. But he couldn’t stop it now. The walls he made to protect her were cracking, one by one.

“Seokjin…” The way she said his name was shattering his heart. So empty and miserable. “I want to see him.”

“I know,” he murmured, forcing his tears back. “I do too.”

There was a silence. Enough of a moment for Seokjin to collect himself and steady his emotions. He had to be strong. He had to support her.

“You didn’t really mean it, right?” she quietly asked. “When you said you loved me.”

“It wasn’t past tense, Moon.”

She pulled her head back and looked up at him, staring into his brown eyes. He had no lies to tell. He gazed back, smiling just a little.

“I thought I was obvious,” he teased gently. He wasn’t proud of being an absolute dick and taking advantage of her. He knew he was overtly flirtatious, but he also knew there were lines he couldn’t cross. He wasn’t going to try and pursue a relationship when he knew she didn’t want it. It didn’t make his feelings go away though. It didn’t matter who he fucked or who wanted him. The end result was always the same.

It was pathetic, he knew.

She bit her lip, frowning. “You could have forced me to be with you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I wouldn’t do that to Hoseok or to you.”

“Yet… you kissed me at that time.”

His lips pursed. “I make mistakes too.” With a heavy sigh, he took a step back, smiling sadly at her. His hands left her shoulders, slowly, one by one. For the longest time, he had wanted her by his side, always. For the longest time, he had wanted her to stay with him, always. But this time, he felt defeated. This time, he didn’t feel like getting his way.

“It’s time for me to let you go,” he said, smiling at her, crushing his own heart with his own words, smashing it into tiny pieces and praying for them to never come back together. He gestured to the door and turned away from her. He couldn’t save her, no matter how hard he tried. The only thing he could do was stay away from her and keep the drugs out of her reach. He reached down and plucked the packet and the bottle from the floor. What started it all. Just some stupid white powder. He shoved it in his pocket, closing his eyes.

What was I thinking?

“We had fun, didn’t we?” he murmured, more to himself.

“Seokjin.”

Fingers suddenly grasped the sleeve of his dress shirt. Pull away. He bit his lip. He had to be strong. He had to pull away. But he hesitated all the same.

“Please don’t.”

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Don’t what, my darling?”

She didn’t reprimand him this time. He felt her walk around him, standing in front of him. He couldn’t open his eyes. Don’t look. He knew he would fall apart if he looked.

“Don’t let go.”

She pressed her lips to his, softly. He felt his resolve crack. He opened his eyes, only a little. Her eyes were closed, brows furrowed as she feverishly kissed him. After his lack of reaction, she broke apart from him, looking up at him with questioning eyes.

“I have to.” To his surprise, his voice was weak, wavering. He had never been so scared in his entire life. “I’m a cold-hearted, greedy shit, remember?”

She frowned at her own words being repeated back to her. “I’m sorry I said that.”

His lips curved upwards ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t be. It’s true, after all.”

She chewed on her lower lip, looking down as she twisted her hands at her stomach. “But you still tried to help me. Even though I always refused it.”

Against his better judgement, he reached out and lifted her head with his fingers. He rubbed his thumb against her chin.

“I had to keep trying for my Moon.”

Her lips parted. She tried to kiss him again, but he turned his hand and pressed on her chest gently, preventing her.

“You don’t need to do that anymore to get what you want,” he said quietly. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

The eyes that looked at him – those dark, dark eyes – full of an emotion he didn’t understand. She was looking at him, deep into his exposed soul, seeing all of him.

“If what I want…” she whispered, lips brushing against his thumb. “If what I want is you, right now, would you say no?”

He should say no. He should refuse and walk away. But he knew his answer and he was sure that she had found him out already.

“I wouldn’t.”

If he could look into those eyes forever, he would. If he could freeze this moment forever, he would. But nothing was forever. He knew that and she knew that.

Her tongue slid out from between her lips and licked his thumb tentatively. He pulled his hand back swiftly, swallowing thickly.

“Don’t pretend for my sake,” he warned. “Don’t give me false hope.”

Maybe it was a joke. Maybe she didn’t really mean it. In the end, he was weak when it came to her. In the end, he gave in. He couldn’t refuse. When he was so drunk that he couldn’t see straight anymore, she was the reason he made himself throw it back up. When he was high as a kite, drifting into nothingness, the only thing he couldn’t forget was her. She was the one he dreamed of at night. When there was only darkness, she was the moonlight. She was the reason to keep going.

She reached out and wrapped her hands around his. “I want you, Seokjin. Show me how much you love me.”

He pulled her to him, making her stumble into him. He crashed his lips into hers, kissing her fully. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, pressing it against hers. It was messy and rough, almost as if they were back at that time. Back at those parties, drunkenly making out, not really knowing what was going on. He let go of her hands and wrapped them around her waist, lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist and continued kissing him, sucking on his tongue the way he liked. He moaned into her mouth, walking them to the room. The room they had been in so many times before, but for different reasons. Her sucked on her lower lip, nipping on it softly. She pulled away, kissing his cheeks and jaw, tongue lacing around his earlobe. He shuddered, opening the door and feeling her suck on it softly. His hands held her tightly as he fell onto the black leather sofa with her on top of him.

“Here?” she mumbled, chuckling.

“Look, this is a big house and walking to a bedroom is going to take at least ten minutes,” he growled, squeezing her ass playfully.

“Next time, then,” she said, making his heart skip two beats.

She kissed down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. Her fingers fumbled with the small buttons of his dress shirt.

“For fuck’s sake, rip it open,” he complained.

She laughed a little. He was seriously going to have a heart attack from the arrhythmia she was giving him. “You’re too rich,” she commented, before she hooked her fingers between the folds and ripped the shirt open, causing buttons to fly everywhere and clatter to the floor.

“I’m horny; there’s a difference,” he retorted, yanking the shirt out of his pants himself.

She paused, eyes going down his toned chest. She could see his scars, some she knew, some she didn’t. Her fingers traced them, running down his skin, setting it afire. The shirt slid down his arms, and he lifted his arms out of it. It was useless now anyway.

She kissed his chest, her soft lips like a dream. Her tongue traced the contours of his muscle, hands pressed against his sides. As she kissed down, the hands slid up his broad back. He bit his lip and laid his head back. Down, down, kissing his belly button lightly, then down to the edge of his pants. She spread his legs, nuzzling his crotch. His erection strained against his clothes and she pressed her nose against it, breathing on it.

“Fucking shit…”

She came back up, a sly smile on her face. She straddled his lap, having to spread her legs even more to accommodate him.  He could feel her inner thighs, the heat positioned right above his cock. She rolled her hips into him, pressing her heat against his stiffness.

He groaned, hands gripping the hem of her sweatshirt. He pulled it up and over her head, tossing it onto the marble table. Another second and he had unhooked the black bra. She shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Her nice round breasts, nipples sticking straight out at him. He cupped them in his hands and ran his tongue over them, flicking a nipple and earning a soft moan. He sucked on them greedily, lapping up their taste, intoxicated. She gripped his shoulders for balance, panting his name.

“Seokjin… ah…”

He pressed his thumbs against them, rubbing them roughly. “Are you my good girl?” he murmured, watching her come undone with his touch. “Are you all mine?” He pinched them and she gasped, grinding her hips into him.

“Yes, Seokjin,” she breathed, nails digging into his shoulders.

He smiled, slowly letting her go. “You have to take off your clothes then, so I can reward you,” he ordered, lightly pushing her off him. She hooked her fingers on the side of her shorts, but he stopped her, twirling his finger with a smirk.

“Turn around first.”

She gave him a look but he simply grinned. Turning around, she pulled the shorts and her underwear down together, exposing her ass and pussy as she bent down. His lips parted seeing her sex glisten with arousal. He hadn’t expected it, even now. She turned back around, frowning as she saw him with his pants still on.

“Too busy to take yours off too?’ she chided, reaching over to unzip his pants.

He smirked. “It’s a good view.”

She was about to yank his pants down but he stopped her, reaching into his other pocket to pull out his wallet. She raised an eyebrow. He took out the condom and placed it beside him before wiggling out of his underwear and pants.

“And here I thought you were going to pull out some money,” she pouted childishly.

He chuckled. “You can have my card any time you want, my love.”

He took her hand and cupped it around his cock, exhaling in satisfaction as she touched him. He had missed this, selfishly. They have never had sexual encounters with all of their clothes off. It was always a spur of the moment, an impulse they craved. She stroked him, but he kept his hand around hers, dictating the pace.

“I can go faster than this,” she said.

“Oh, I know,” he replied, sighing in bliss. “But I have more work to do, so I’m not trying to blow my load in five seconds.”

“What about me?” she asked, lifting her leg and tilting her hips towards him. It was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen, her dripping pussy facing him, wanting him.

He let her hand go, hesitantly. “Okay, okay. Get on top of me.”

He rolled the condom onto his cock as she climbed on top, positioning herself above him. Once he was finished, he held it in place as she sank down on him. Slowly. So hot, so wet, her muscles clenching around him, sucking him in. He clenched his teeth. He had only been inside her a few times. Only when Hoseok was really passed out and wouldn’t hear them. Because he couldn’t contain himself knowing his cock was filling her up, feeling her muscles tighten around him, pulsing. It felt so good. He reached up and placed his hand around her waist, positioning her so his cock was touching that spot she liked, making her moan and throw her head back as he thrust into it lightly.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he breathed. “You can take what I’m going to give you, can’t you?”

She knew what he meant. “Y-yes, Seokjin.”

Fuck, he loved it when she said his name so breathlessly like that. “Hold on, my darling.”

She looped her arms around his shoulders and he slammed his hips into her. She gasped at his forcefulness, but there was so time to collect herself as he thrust into her, bouncing her up and down on his cock, letting gravity sink her back down. She cried out, biting her lip hard as he pounded her, muffling them. He called her name, making her look down at him.

“Let me hear you,” he panted. “Scream my name.”

He thrust into her, hard, making her yelp and throw her head back.

“S-Seokjin,fuck!”

“Too rough?” he mocked, ramming into her while pulling her down on him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, Seokjin, whatever you want,” she gasped, “You know you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Yeah?” He rolled his hips, hitting that sweet spot. She moaned his name, dragging it out as he continued. “Squeeze my cock with that delicious pussy of yours. Cum all over it.”

He felt her muscles contract around him and he had to chomp down on his tongue to avoid losing it right then and there. He had to make her orgasm multiple times first. He had to. He stopped, pulling her up so only the tip was inside her. She whined, trying to wiggle back down.

He reached between her legs and found her clit, rubbing it. She gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head as he pinched it, causing her walls to clench and liquid gush down his cock, coating it with wet stickiness.

“F-fuck, Seokjin!”

He grinned, letting her sink back down, but still rubbing her clit. She clung onto him, rocking her hips into his hand as he continued his assault on her clit. He ran his nail over it and she wailed, pussy gripping him tightly as waves of pleasure racked through her, clenching his cock in her warm vice.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered softly in her ear. He removed his hand and she shuddered, her swollen clit rubbing against him as he pressed his hips against hers.

“It’s going to be even better now,” he purred. He lifted her again and began a slow pace, dragging her clit against his skin each time he went down, earning a whine of pleasure each time.

“Seokjin, y-you’re crazy,” she panted, her body shaking in his hands.

“Crazy for your body,” he grinned, thrusting into her harder. She groaned, both at the response and his movements. Each time her body shuddered and he felt her become wetter, he increased his pace, harder, faster. Her pussy throbbed around him.

“M-more, Seokjin, fuck… fuck me up,” she pleaded, meeting his pace.

He couldn’t take much more. Her head thrown back, her breasts bouncing in his face, her completely fucked out expression and her pussy pulsating around him. So hot, so wet, so tight. He felt the familiar sensation tightening inside him. He thrust harder, giving it all he had. He breathed her name.

“Look at me.”

She did, pupils blown wide, devoured in pleasure that was all him, him fucking her senseless, him filling her up with his cock, him making her weak.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He came with a cry, slamming her down on his cock as it shot into the condom. His cock twitched inside her. He shut his eyes, moaning as he felt her pussy squeezing him, milking every last drop uselessly. Her head fell against his shoulder, her heavy breathing against his ear. He shivered. He was wet, sticky, and absolutely filthy. It was amazing.

“You have to get up, my love,” he whispered, exhausted.

He reached down and held the condom as she winced, pulling off of him. His cock slid out and smacked him in the thigh. He was surprised he was still semi-hard after all that.

She slid down next to him. She had never sat down next to him before, not in this room. His heart thudded in his chest and not from the afterglow.

“Seokjin…”

“… Yes?”

“Can we at least find a bed to sleep?”

–

masterpost

pairing(s):yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary:Min Yoongi is falling hard, but he’s not making much progress. Kim Seokjin is lovable is a weird way. Jeon Jungkook makes bad choices and we try to keep him alive, until he’s too intuitive that is.

warnings:non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug and alcohol use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts

–

When Yoongi heard her door open, his head whipped around from the kitchen. He had been in the middle of cutting some green onions. She emerged from her room like an animal from a cage. Black long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, carrying a tan shopper’s bag. She didn’t seem to notice him, engrossed in her thoughts as she rummaged through the bag for a moment.

He felt he had to say something. Anything.

“Do you know where the scissors are? I can’t find them,” he called.

She looked up, blinking at him. Her hair was half-tied back, lashes dark and smokey but her lips were a peach-pink instead of the red she commonly wore. And those dark, dark eyes. He looked away from them, fixating on the wall next to her head.

“Ah, Yoongi, you didn’t use the kitchen scissors for a package, did you?” she replied, somewhat exasperatedly. “Or maybe I misplaced them…”

She hurried over, opening the drawers one by one. He noticed her nails were red and black striped. They weren’t before – she must have done them herself. She opened each drawer hurriedly but delicately, accentuating her long fingers. He had a sudden image of those nails raking down his back, pinpricks of pain clouding his mind–

“Here they are.” She placed the scissors next to the cutting board and he nodded hurriedly to make the image disappear.

“Thanks.” It came out terser than he wanted it to but she seemed not to notice. She was slipping black gloves on her hands as she turned away.

“Don’t forget to open the window when you cook meat,” she reminded. She must have seen the steak on the counter.

“I’ll remember.”

He could hear her putting on her shoes. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest. He took a deep breath and turned around, her name falling from his lips breathlessly.

She raised her eyebrows at him as she put on her black face mask.

“Do you… know how to sing?”

-

Listening to the weekly rundown as a lot like listening to a teacher’s lecture. She stood in that room once again, except Seokjin was pacing, reading off his notebook as he recited the names, times, and places she needed to be. How much to bring. How much they would give.

She could remember it all quite well at this point, but that didn’t mean she needed to look at him. She didn’t need to look at his pretty dark hair covering half of his forehead or his well-fitted pale pink shirt and tailored white pants that were mysteriously not see-through. Just focus on the people. Times. Places. Not Kim Seokjin.

“Are you listening?” he was saying sharply.

“Of course, I am,” she replied automatically. “You just said Jungkook, 2300, at that god-awful club I hate going to.”

A small smirk appeared on his lips. “That’s my Moon.”

Please stop, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. She did not like these mental invasions and conjuring ideas in her head. He was doing it on purpose. He was planting them in her mind on purpose.

“Moon.”

She jumped. Somehow, he was right next to her.

“You seem to be on autopilot today,” he observed. He was wearing a pair of round glasses that he definitely did not need. Aesthetics, he would say if she asked.

“I’m not.” It was a stubborn response. He raised his brow at it.

“I cannot have you airheaded. I’ll have someone else pick up your week,” he said sternly.

Her eyes went wide and she grabbed his left arm, shaking her head furiously. “No. No, Seokjin, I’m fine. I can do it.” She squeezed his upper arm, looking up at him. Don’t take this away from me.

And then, Seokjin did something uncharacteristic.

He winced.

She let go immediately. She had felt… something under there. And then, through the light fabric, she realized there was a bandage wrapped around his bicep. Even a bump of flattened gauze.

“You… got injured?”

He scoffed. “It’s just a scrape.”

She looked up at him. No one bandaged scrapes. Not like that. She hadn’t managed to feel it enough to determine if it was a gunshot wound or a cut. He seemed annoyed and his features hardened. He wasn’t going to say what it was even if she asked. 

“Who did it?”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “I’m fine, my darling. Are you worried?”

“I wanted to know if I should be worried,” she snapped.

He chuckled and placed a hand on her head. She tried to angrily swat it away but stopped as soon as his sentence finished.

“I’m trying my hardest to stay alive for you.”

-

“It’s just a demo, there’s no need to–”

“No, no, I want to do this right. It should sound good if you’re going to present this to a company.”

Yoongi readjusted the headset on his ears and sighed. They had been at it for a little while now. He had helped her warm up her voice, match pitch, recorded a little, but all in all, her voice sounded a little too robotic. It wasn’t her fault – she wasn’t a singer after all, only his roommate helping him out for one song. He could have attempted to sing it himself but he knew it wouldn’t have the feel he wanted.

Their makeshift setup was a table between them, her face right in front of the mic, his computer and monitors beside him.

She had the lyrics in front of her, hand on her lips, mouthing the words.

“Yoongi… is this about you?” she asked quietly.

A sudden embarrassment came over him. He bit his lip and looked away, fixating on the floor.

“Well… yeah,” he confessed. “It’s about how I feel. About the push and pull of dreams, what it means to have a dream, feeling trapped because maybe my dream wasn’t what I thought it was. Or maybe… maybe I don’t have one anymore.”

It was hard to say out loud what it was really about, but his lyrics were crystal clear.

She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Remembered her whole world, her sunshine and her planet, the one she had turned into her reason for living. The beautiful heart-shaped smile, the silly laugh. The times when she sat next to the record player and watched him dance to the music. Who needed a sofa when a dance floor was more important?

He sensed a shift in her demeanor. He looked up from the floor to see her closed eyes, clenched hands on top on the papers he had scribbled his lyrics on. He wondered what she was thinking about.

Music, she had always thought, was fun. It had brought her joy until it didn’t. She had agreed to this because, to be honest, she had been curious about what he was working on. But she hadn’t expected Min Yoongi to write something so vulnerable and relatable.

She opened her eyes.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

It was the strangest thing. Her eyes were like black glass, shimmering. When she sang, it was clear and heavy at the same time. Heavy with emotion, a longing he couldn’t place.

“So far away…”

-

“You wear glasses?”

Yoongi looked up from the kitchen counter. He had been staring at his phone, a yellow notepad on the counter as he scribbled notes. “Oh. No, I just thought…” He shrugged, taking them off his face. “I thought they would get me into the lyric writing mood,” he trailed off awkwardly. “They were cheap and I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

She gestured to him as she took a glass out of the cabinet. “Put them back on. They make you look studious.”

He laughed dryly, putting them back on hesitantly. “Yeah, but do they make me look attractive?”

“Yes.”

He froze. That was not the answer he expected. He stared at his notepad pointedly. For some reason, he couldn’t bear to look up and see her expression. He didn’t want to see her stifling a giggle or smirking at him.

“Are you not finishing the song we were working on?”

He chewed on his lip and lifted his head, seeing her standing on the far side of the kitchen, looking at him curiously. No teasing smile on those pink lips. As far as he could see, she wasn’t making fun of him.

“I am finishing it. It… takes time.” And I don’t like confronting that part of myself. He tried to play it off, but he knew it wasn’t working. It was making everything more awkward.

She nodded, her dark flowy waves spilling over her shoulders. Then she gestured to the space between them, looking apologetic. “Oh, I’m not avoiding you or anything,” she said hurriedly, rubbing the back of her head. “I don’t want to read any of your unfinished lyrics… I know that stuff can be private. You might not want me to see them.”

“Oh…” He continued chewing on his lip. It was a bad habit. “That’s respectful of you.”

She cringed a bit as if she hadn’t meant to say anything. “Ah, well, you know… I don’t want to accidentally see anything you’re not ready to share yet.”

It was the strangest feeling of déjà vu. It was almost as if he was looking into a mirror, but that was impossible, because her eyes were dark glass that reflected nothing. It came and went, leaving him wondering what he was supposed to infer from that moment. Then he realized the hands holding the glass were black gloves. Ripped straight leg black jeans and a huge black hoodie with a black sweatshirt underneath. She suddenly reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“I’ll wash my glass when I get back, okay? I have to go.”

He cleaned her glass after she left. There were no other dishes. He washed it carefully, looking into the clear crystal, seeing through it but also seeing nothing at all.

-

Something was wrong.

“Come on, Moon-noona.”

Hands clawing at her sweatshirt, dragging her closer in the cramped private room of the club she hated, but she was too distracted with something else. She grabbed his hands before they could slide up.

“Jungkook, what have you been taking?”

He chuckled, sliding across the wall, batting his lashes at her. His pupils were unfocused, brown irises quivering.

“Fun shit.”

He laughed and laughed, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever said. The music was so loud that the bass seemed to be vibrating the thick smoky air. Either that or it was the bodies hitting the walls as they drunkenly danced and humped each other.

He hooked his fingers on the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her close. He reeked of alcohol.

“Let’s have some fun before we get to business, yeah?” he murmured breathlessly, grinning.

“What did you take?” she asked sternly, ignoring his words.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, some of something?”

She did not like this one bit. She had to pry his fingers off her. “No transaction today.”

“Aw, come on,” he whined, wrapping his arms around her waist and yanking her back to him.

She swore. His arms were like a vice. He pressed her against his dark green satin dress shirt, and even through her layers she was reminded the guy was fucking ripped. Ripped, drunk, and high on who-knows-what. Probably ecstasy. Great. She kept her waist away from his, planting her feet on the floor.

“You’re too uptight, noona.”

He was not supposed to touch her, but he was not supposed to be this drunk or this high either. If it was anyone of her other customers, she would have left without saying anything. But he was basically a kid. A kid who was trying to take even more, who probably thought he was invincible.

She had Seokjin on speed dial. She could reach into her pocket and call him with one hand and his lackeys would come handle the situation immediately. She could.

“Jungkook, look at me.”

He tried to, brain trying to compute as the battle between stimulant and depressant waged on.

“Let me go.”

He pouted. “You don’t like me? Everybody likes me.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

He let her go, slowly, still frowning. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

She drew back, watching him closely. “There is no guy,” she said absentmindedly.

“There’s always a guy,” he said exasperatedly. “Or girl, or whatever. Even if they’re imaginary.”

She would have to report the cancelled sale to Seokjin. He would be pissed. “There’s no imaginary anybody,” she replied dismissively, trying to figure out what to say so Seokjin wouldn’t go apeshit on this poor kid. Definitely wasn’t going to mention any touching.

“There is; you just refuse to admit it.”

A chill went up her spine. “What did you say?”

He shrugged, sliding to the floor, holding his shoulders. “You’re in your head, Moon-noona. In there all day, letting them dictate you like a puppet.”

Her eyes narrowed. She reached into her hoodie and threw the tiny plastic bag at him. It hit him in the chest and slid down onto the floor. He blinked multiple times, looking at the packet of white powder and then her retreating back as she left the room.

“On the house.”

-

4.

–

masterpost

pairing(s):yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary:Min Yoongi might be getting closer to his roommate… maybe? Jeon Jungkook is a little bit of an asshole (but only on the outside). Suicidal thoughts. Maybe you realize who ??? is now. Kim Seokjin might not be an asshole.

warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, abusive relationship including threatening violence

–

She came out of her room dressed in loose dark grey jeans and a billowy white cropped t-shirt. Black belt and black bomber jacket to add to the casualness of it all. He only noticed this because he was laying on the hardwood.

“Why are you on the floor?”

He made a noise of annoyance and rolled over, swiping on his phone.

“Rough day?”

He mumbled. “Something like that.”

She swept her hair up into a loose ponytail. He noticed it was a little shorter now, but still past her shoulders. She squatted down next to him, behind his phone.

“Want me to order you some pizza?”

He grumbled, eyes flicking upwards. “I’m not a child.”

The corner of her mouth curved upwards. “Nope, you’re an adult and that’s why you can eat what you want.”

He sighed and placed his phone on his chest. “Don’t want to eat.”

She nodded, noting his disheveled appearance. Ripped up jeans and a loose grey and black hoodie that seemed to swallow him. His black bucket hat was only half on, and his short hair stuck out. She reached into her jacket pocket and placed the grey beanie on his chest. He cracked open an eye and peered at it.

“I washed it.”

“… Thanks.” It smelled nice. A soft scent, lightly fruity. He noticed she was wearing those leather gloves she always wore when she left the house. “Off to party?” he joked.

She huffed. “Do I seem like the partying type to you?”

He looked up at her. She was staring at her phone. He noticed she was wearing red lipstick. She abruptly turned from her phone and his eyes went straight to the ceiling.

“You want to listen to some music?” she said suddenly. She stood up, not waiting for his answer. He sat up, feeling awkward that he was still on the floor. She was walking up the to record player. He had never seen her use it in the entire time he had been living here. Her eyes scanned the shelves and she picked a record out. She was careful sliding it out of the sleeve, raising the lid of the player and setting the record down carefully. He blinked as slow rhythm guitar and piano began to play.

He frowned. “I don’t know English.”

She chuckled. “Me neither. But it’s kind of nice to just listen even if you don’t understand.”

It wasn’t his first pick but it was quite nice. The record player had a good set of speakers set up behind it. She nodded to herself and cocked her head towards him.

“You know how to work one of these, I presume?”

“Uh… yeah. But you said…”

She looked at him pointedly. “Don’t break it.” She looked back to the record player and he saw her black eyes mist over with an unknown emotion. “It used to belong to someone important, someone who believed in the power of music.”

She turned and walked towards the door, grabbing a pair of sneakers from the closet.

“Was it–” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t disrespect it.”

And she was gone.

-

“What’s your real name, anyway?”

“Moon.”

Jungkook threw his head back. He had a fun laugh despite being a piece of shit. “That’s not your real name.”

“It’s my real name to you.”

He chuckled and rolled his head on his shoulders. The party was going wild downstairs, but they were alone, making their transaction in one of the bedrooms of the rich house of someone she doubted even Jungkook knew. He was sitting on the bed, hands propping him up from behind, legs wide open. If he wasn’t going to give her the money soon, she was going to kick him straight in the balls.

“Did you pick it to be edgy?” he teased.

“No, someone else picked it for me,” she replied darkly.

The bass radiated throughout the walls of the house. Jungkook was wearing a loose white dress shirt and black ripped jeans that molded to his body. She had been right. Dude was fucking ripped.

His lips twisted in thoughtfulness. “And you just kept it? You can just change it.”

“Jungkook if you don’t give me the fucking money, I’m leaving.”

He grinned. “But I want to talk to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Every second you waste is another second of not having the fun shit.”

His eyes found hers in the moonlight. “But talking to you is the fun shit.”

She felt a muscle under her eyes twitch. Instead of responding, she sighed exaggeratedly and turned around, glove reaching for the doorknob.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Jungkook said hastily.

She turned to see him pulling up the hem of his dress shirt way too far to reveal his chiseled abs before reaching into his jeans pocket for a fat wad of cash. She hated that. Cash by itself looked messy and suspicious. She didn’t know if Jungkook was an idiot or ignorant.

Her eyes scanned over it as he held it out. She plucked it out of his hand, checking the bills. Usually she didn’t need to do that, but she always checked for first timers.

“It’s real,” Jungkook assured, almost childishly. He would have been cute in another dimension where he wasn’t paying for cocaine.

She shrugged and shoved it in the pocket of her loose jeans. And out came the paper packet from the innermost pocket of her bomber jacket. She placed it on the nightstand next to the bed.

“Couldn’t hand it to me?”

Her eyes flickered towards him and the playful smirk on his lips. She raised an eyebrow at him.

He pouted. “Come on. I wasn’t going to touch you. I heard what the Guide said.”

“Uh huh. Is that why you’re tempted on borderline flashing me?”

He chewed on his lip, trying to stifle his grin. “Ah, you see right through me.”

She backed up. “We’re done here.”

“Hey, um…”

She paused at the door. “What?”

“Do you hate me or something?”

What happened to you being a cocky ass bitch? Her head tilted, looking down at him on the bed. He was frowning, fiddling with his shirt. “Are you upset that your charms don’t work on me?”

He scratched his head. “Well, they usually work, but no, it’s…” His eyes shifted nervously. “It’s like you’re dead inside.”

She didn’t reply. His brown orbs found hers. He found her eyes to be strangely dark, almost without light. It was weird how joyless they seemed.

“What a psychoanalysis,” she finally said. “You’re Freud himself, aren’t you?”

“What?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

She pointed to the paper packet. “Don’t overdo it. A dead customer isn’t a paying one, so don’t get so fucked up you can’t see me again.” She tilted her chin towards him and gave him a small smirk. “That’s what you want, right?”

And she was gone.

-

What if I just did a little?

The thin white lines taunted her.

I just don’t want to feel anymore.

The thin white lines sat on the glass palette on the unnaturally clean table in her room. Her phone was propped up behind it with a wadded-up sweatshirt.

“I really admire you for not starting.” He was talking, the memory playing like a movie in her head. She remembered his laugh, so full and free. “I’m glad, because it means you’ll always be sober to take care of my dumb ass.”

And what if you’re not here?

She was staring at the picture on her phone. Two smiles, one she hadn’t seen for a long time in the mirror and another a little heart-shaped. She turned the screen off abruptly, not wanting to see it anymore.

“You have to stop!” Why had she shouted at him? She shouldn’t have. Not then. “What happened to wanting to detox?”

“It’s too fucking hard.” Remembering his sobbing and crying hurt the most. “It hurts so much. I have to go.”

“Don’t you step out that door. I won’t come running after you this time.”

“Fuck, can’t you be sympathetic? You don’t fucking understand!”

She stared at the poisonous lines in front of her.

“You’re my cure. I can do it, I swear.”

“You’re a liar,” she whispered quietly. She stared at the lines and wondered if she could end it herself. And, just like every other time, she sighed and carefully swept the lines back into a small plastic bag. Carefully wiped everything clean with an alcohol wipe and then spraying a strong ammonia solution. She honestly didn’t know if it did anything to destroy the evidence but it seemed good enough.

She picked up her phone to see their faces together once again. The delete button taunted her, knowing she wouldn’t do it no matter how much seeing those smiles tore her up inside.

I’m not off the deep end. She kept telling herself that. I’m functioning just fine.

-

“Could you give me your opinion on something?”

She appeared at the bathroom door in her plastic gloves, hair tied back. She had been cleaning the kitchen.

“You called, sir?” She dragged out the words, mocking him, but she had come to the bathroom door anyway. He was too nervous to care. Yoongi fiddled with the black cap on his head and then removed it abruptly.

“Hat or no hat?”

She snickered. “Hat, of course.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘of course’?”

She rolled her eyes. “You look like a thirty-year-old man with your short hair.”

“What?”

“Like a salaryman but worse because you’re trying to look cool.”

Yoongi crammed the cap back on his head. “Are you saying I don’t look cool?” He glared at her in the mirror.

“Not with your short hair. Should probably grow it out at least a little,” she commented. She made a face at his shirt. “Where are you going in a bright green polo?”

He frowned. “I’m going to perform.”

“Do you sing for the church choir or…?”

They stared at each other though the mirror.

“Is it… not good?”

“I mean you look better in the clothes you normally wear. The hoodies and shit.”

He scrunched his nose and pushed past her, hurrying back to his room. She called after him.

“I mean you can wear whatever. I was just assuming you did some kind of hip hop because of the bass I always hear from your room.”

His head popped out of the room. “Oh shit. Am I too loud?”

She shrugged, going back to the sink where she resumed scrubbing. “Some kind of big concert you’re going to?”

His voice radiated from the room. “Uh, something like that. Opening for a pretty big underground rapper. Runch Randa.”

She tried not to burst into laughter. “Wow, what a name,” she whispered to the suds.

Yoongi emerged from his room; cap now turned into bucket hat to hide even more of his short hair. Hoodie with a brand name across the front and loose jeans.

“Is this better?”

She looked up for only a second before going back to the sink. “Do you feel more comfortable?”

He looked down as if to ask his own body. “I mean… yeah. Do I seem too relaxed though?”

She shrugged as she went at the sides of the sink with the steel wool. “You’re going to perform, aren’t you? You should be comfortable in yourself.” She was busy rinsing the sink so she didn’t hear him mumble to himself.

“Some days I don’t even want to be myself,” he muttered, hurrying to the bathroom to look at himself one last time. Minutes later he rushed out, grabbing his shoes.

“Good luck,” she called, waving a wet gloved hand.

“… T-thanks,” he said awkwardly before shutting the door.

When he came home later that night, there was takeout fried chicken on the counter waiting for him. A note scribbled beside it – Hope it went well. He meant to thank her for it in the coming weeks, but her hours seemed as irregular as ever and eventually too much time passed for him to casually bring it up again.

But he never forgot.

-

She hated this stupid room. The stupid black leather sofa. The marble coffee table. The plush navy, peach, and cream carpet. She doubted Seokjin had picked any of this out.

Well, except for the gun on the coffee table.

“Moon, come here.”

He was alone more often with her now. She wasn’t sure if this was because he wanted it that way or not, but she wouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

His brown orbs darkened. His blazer was tossed lazily on the sofa, so he was in his black tie, striped white and pale blue dress shirt and black slacks. There was even a gold collar pin. He was a showoff.

“Don’t make me pick up the gun, Moon.”

Go ahead, blast my head off. She sighed and closed the distance between them. Instead of sitting beside him like he gestured, she sat down on the marble coffee table in front of him, putting herself between him and the gun.

He smirked. “That’s a good girl. I like your outfit today.”

She had worn her giant fluffy white jacket and a large black sweatshirt underneath. Bare legs, chunky heels. Hair loose and messy, lips stained red. And, of course, the black gloves. “You always like when I dress like one of your toys.”

His eyes flashed but he chose not to comment on it. He leaned forward, watching her reaction. She seemed almost bored, staring at the wall behind his head. He reached out, placing his fingertips on her knee. She twitched her knee tersely, his fingers slipping off.

He hummed. “Still not over him, I see.”

“If this is a therapy session, I’d rather pay a profess–”

“Look at me.”

The black holes went from the wall to his eyes. He almost shivered from the eye contact. They stared at each other, as if it was some kind of contest. He scooted up to the edge of the sofa. Their knees touched and she visibly flinched at the contact. Her brow furrowed.

“It’s not your fault.”

She glared at him, but said nothing.

He leaned forward even more and now their breath was mixing. She could smell his sharp cologne that reeked of money. He always seemed to reek of money and she wasn’t even poor.

“I don’t want you high,” she said sternly.

He was centimeters away from her face. “I’m never high when I’m with you. Not anymore.”

She gave him a disbelieving snort.

“I’m not lying. Look at me.”

And now she was looking deep, deep into those brown eyes, those brown eyes like hot honey, eyes that knew her better than anyone else alive. Seokjin really was a handsome man, a beautiful mess.

“This is stupid. You’re not even attracted to me,” she whispered.

“Not true.” He wasn’t smirking. He was only gazing into her eyes, falling into oblivion. Not really because he wanted to ignite them again. He knew he didn’t have that capability. “You have always been my Moon.”

“That was a name given to me.” She didn’t have to say who.

“That doesn’t mean he was the one who thought of it.”

Her mouth went dry.

“You were always his satellite.”

She chewed on her lower lip.

“Now you orbit no one.”

She was about to look down but he reached up and gently tipped her head back up.

“Look at me when I kiss you.”

And he pressed his lips onto hers.

It was not like the messy kisses during a party night. It was not like the kisses after falling into arms. It was not like the kisses after a rough fight or the kisses during laughter or the passionate kisses when there was too much energy and there needed to be a release.

It was a kiss like no other, because there were too many feelings and too many unsaid words.

He had soft, plush lips that gently pressed against hers. If it was an act, it was a good one because she was falling for it. He placed a hand on her thigh, not sliding upwards, only to steady himself as he pressed into her, breathing her scent, making her heart beat fast. He was unexpectedly gentle, almost shy. She placed a gloved hand over his and he pulled away, eyes slowly opening as he broke apart.

Her heart thudded in her ears. “What happened to looking at you?” she murmured.

He gave her a small smile and for once it felt like there was no malintent. “I didn’t say I had to look at you.”

Their hands were still on top of each other. He pulled his hand out from beneath hers and brushed her cheek with his fingers, smiling at her fondly.

“No deliveries this week. I’ll do them for you.”

And then he left the room, leaving her sitting on the marble coffee table, gun beside her. She didn’t move for what seemed like a full minute. It felt like time had stopped. She turned to look at the gun, seeing the safety on.

Not that it mattered because when she picked it up, she realized it wasn’t even loaded.

-

“Here’s this month’s rent.”

She took it from him with a silent nod. She was about to close the door to her room.

“Hey… uh. Have you been alright? I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t seem like yourself.”

He couldn’t exactly describe what that meant but she seemed out of it. She seemed to consider a moment before responding.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Yoongi.”

And she closed the door.

It gave him a sense of unease. She seemed to be quarantining herself in her room like some kind of self-isolation prison sentence. Before this week, she had noted his longer hair, telling him, “Finally you don’t look like a depressed businessman who spilled coffee on his only suit.”

“What do I look like, then?” he had joked.

“A cool music producer or an adoptable kitten, I can’t decide.”

She called him cool. Him, Min Yoongi, cool. Which was fair – if he could say so himself – but it also strangely made him swell with pride, which determined one thing for him.

He was maybe, kind of, oh no, definitely not…

“Get a grip,” he scolded himself.

-

3.

–

masterpost

pairing(s):yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary: Kim Seokjin reveals his true colors. Min Yoongi freeloads off his roommate (just a little). Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook make an appearance.

warnings:non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug use, violence, mentions of depression, abusive relationship

See prologue for notes. I am not condoning any of this behavior, in case that wasn’t abundantly clear.

–

“I’m telling you; the public is changing. They want accessibility.”

“They want to get high, Seokjin.”

He grinned. He was alone this time, standing next to the window in his expensive suit. He honestly didn’t need to be in a suit, but he wore it because he knew he looked good in it.

“They still don’t want to get caught.”

She snorted, an inelegant sound that made Seokjin frown. She couldn’t say more so she just looked away from him. He moved away from the window and stepped towards her, taking note of the bucket hat and loose jeans. Brown belt, big loose black sweater.

“You could have at least dressed up for me.”

He saw her lips twist into a pout and she looked up at him with those black holes, viewing him from under the hat.

“Does it matter?” she replied sharply.

He smiled at her.

“Is the problem money? Do you need me to gift you some pretty dresses?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t need money and you know that.”

He leaned down just a bit and felt her stiffen at his closeness. “Then why are you here?” His eyes flickered up to hers but she wasn’t watching. She was purposefully looking away from him.

“Just give me the fucking pills then,” she mumbled.

“That’s a good girl.”

And he pulled his gun away from her stomach before turning around and giving her the package in a reusable grocery bag.

-

She sat slumped in the train seat, bucket hat over her eyes. It was like she wasn’t even there – people passed by her without giving a second glance. That was the point. She always kept her dark hair and her clothes plain, a forgettable existence to anyone who could be watching.

She didn’t believe Seokjin was an evil person. Not really. Maybe in a different parallel timeline, he was a cheerful person who brought happiness and joy to everyone he met. But not this Kim Seokjin. No, this Kim Seokjin was her drug supplier and it wasn’t a cheerful profession, if one could even call it that.

She doubted Seokjin would actually shoot her. After all, if he wanted to fuck like he claimed, it would be hard with a bloody hole in her stomach.

It wasn’t a theory she was willing to test in the moment though.

She had argued with him because she didn’t want to deal different substances. Quite frankly, she didn’t think she could do this anymore. As if on cue, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a notification on her lock screen. She bit her lip.

She had thought about changing her lock screen many times but each time she saw his smile, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

You’re so pathetic, she thought to herself.

She put in her password and looked at her texts. It was simply labelled, Guide. That’s what Seokjin was named on her phone.

Miss you, Moon.

She shoved her phone back into her pocket and tried not to think about it.

-

Yoongi let out a groan and pressed his forehead onto the front door. He barely made rent this month. It was due in three days and he barely had enough in his account to pay rent and have one meal. One meal. He didn’t know how he was going to survive at this rate. The plastic bag with his one convenience store meal banged against the door and he jumped.

Sighing at his own plight, he punched in the code and entered the apartment. He staggered back, immediately hit by the delicious smell of…

Beef.

Grilled beef.

He blinked, looking around the apartment.

There was his roommate, standing next to the stove. Loose grey sweatshirt and matching sweatpants with a cream apron cinching in her waist. Hips swinging to the beat that was playing in her Bluetooth headphones as she turned over the strips of beef, oil popping and sizzling. The smoke was drifting out of the open window but the smell pervaded throughout.

Words couldn’t describe how jealous he was right now.

He looked down and closed the door, staring at his pathetic little boxed lunch through the plastic. Frustration and annoyance threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to hurl it at the wall. Why couldn’t he have her life? Not a care in the world, dancing away as she cooked that delicious-smelling beef while he was stuck in his shitshow of a–

“Oh, Yoongi.”

His head snapped up at his name. She was staring at him with the headphones around her neck. Black holes staring at him. He felt suddenly exposed, as if she could read his thoughts.

She gestured with her tongs. “You want some beef?”

He raised a hand, chuckling slightly as he shook his head. “No… No, it’s fine. It’s your food.”

And then his stomach growled so loudly that he himself looked down to stare at it. It was even louder than the sizzling beef. He had never been so betrayed by his bodily functions in his life. And his dick had chosen in some weird girls in his time.

She laughed, the first time he had ever heard her laugh. It made her eyes crinkle up and her shoulders shake, a laugh that made those dead eyes disappear for just a second. She tilted her head just a bit and grinned, shaking her head.

“I’ll prepare another bowl for you.”

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, disturbing his beanie. “I’ll do the dishes then.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

He placed his boxed lunch in the fridge – a bit further in the back – and sat awkwardly at one of the stools at the counter. She placed a bowl of rice in front of him and handed him a plate of four thick slices of beef. He could feel himself drooling at the sight. She leaned forward just a bit and he realized she must have noticed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand hastily.

“Hmm.” She was smiling at him.

Shit.

She placed a fifth piece of meat on his rice and shook her head, still chuckling. There was a plate of kimchi on the table too. He looked at it and she noticed that too.

“Go ahead. Store bought.”

He took a bite of the beef first. He swore his eyes rolled back into his head. Seasoned, cooked with some pink in the middle. It was like a flavor explosion in his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t actually that good, but he hadn’t had freshly cooked meat in so long that he had forgotten what it tasted like.

He chewed gratefully, slowly opening his eyes. He was going to say something but she was staring at her phone, looking troubled. She was picking meat off the pan, chewing hurriedly.

“It’s… really good.”

She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. “Hm? Oh. It’s just marinated beef. There’s some left in the fridge if you want it for dinner.”

Please, oh God, yes. “No, no, I couldn’t eat your food,” he said awkwardly, not really believing in his own words.

She shrugged. “You should cook it. I probably won’t be home until late.” She looked back at her phone; eyes fixated on the screen. She seemed to be concentrating on something. Then she abruptly put her phone down. “You do know how to cook, right?”

He nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah. My brother is a chef. He taught me the basics.”

“Oh.” She looked a bit embarrassed at her own question. “Good. I won’t come to a burned down apartment then.”

It was then they realized they knew very little about each other. She looked awkward and shoved her phone in her pocket before she continued eating. He stared back down at his rice and continued chewing. Fuck. It tasted really good.

“I noticed you’ve been eating a lot of convenience store food.”

He winced. “Yeah…”

She poked the end of her chopsticks at him. “You should make more food at home. All that packaging is bad for the environment,” she said sternly.

“Ah… yeah.”

She finished the last bit of her rice and set the pan and bowl in the sink, running water over them with a bit of soap.

“I have to go.”

He nodded awkwardly. She left the kitchen to go to her room. He let out an exasperated sigh after she closed the door. He wasn’t really sure why he couldn’t talk to her that well. It wasn’t like he was weird around girls. Maybe it was that unapproachable feeling surrounding her.

Or maybe it was because he knew he had to pay her soon.

She came back out dressed in the same sweatpants and an open black hoodie. His eyes widened when he noticed she was wearing a white crop top underneath. She slung a small duffel bag against her shoulder. It was actually a very attractive look on her.

She turned and he saw she was fresh faced, with minimal makeup. She walked over to him, staring straight at him. No, not him.

She plucked the grey beanie off his head.

“I’m gonna borrow this.”

-

“Jimin, I am not upping your order.”

Those perfectly plump lips curved into a pout. “Moonie, pleaaaase? Pretty please?”

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “No. I brought your current order with me and I didn’t bring extra. I told you before–”

“I know, I know… A dead customer isn’t a paying customer.”

Well, actually my saying is a dead addict isn’t a paying addict. They were standing at the edge of the dance studio. It was already closed, so the windows were dark and no one was around. The particular corner they stood at couldn’t be seen by the windows. She tapped her sneaker against the hardwood. Park Jimin, dance choreographer and current customer, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and handed her a cheap blue plastic water bottle. She was wearing her black gloves but had no problem screwing the lid open. She looked inside, satisfied to see the correct amount. She was good at that. She tucked it away in her duffel bag and handed him the small brown paper bag in response, pills tucked in a believable prescription bottle.

“Thanks, Moon. I really needed this.”

Her brows furrowed as he opened the bottle hastily and took one right there in front of her. His orange hair stuck to his forehead, probably due to sweat, but it made him look desperate.

“Jimin, if you need them that bad, you should go see a doctor.”

He winced as he chugged down a gulp of water. “I know. I know… It’s just… award season is coming soon. I need to stay busy.”

She wanted to punch him. You fucking idiot, you’re going to kill yourself.

“Hey, um… I was wondering if you still take on customers? I know a guy…”

She rolled her eyes. “Jimin, please keep your trap shut for your safety and mine. Do you want to get arrested?”

“Are you the one doing the arresting?”

A new, deep voice penetrated the room. A cocky smile and an all-black shadow drifted into the room. The black sweatshirt was so huge it might as well have been a blanket. Dark brown eyes and dark brown hair, slightly long and damp.

She shoved her hands in her black hoodie and glared at Jimin. “You best believe the Guide will hear about this.”

Fear flashed in Jimin’s eyes. “No, wait. Wait, Jungkook–”

“Is this her? Your dealer?” His eyes raked down her frame, briefly fixating on her white crop top. She only wore it because she knew Jimin wasn’t going to mess with her – Seokjin made sure of that – but she hadn’t counted on someone else appearing. “She’s a cute little thing, isn’t she?”

Jimin smacked his chest, trying to push him back. “Stop. You can’t flirt with her,” he warned.

A muscle in her leg tensed. She thought about running but it was better to diffuse the situation.

“Why not?” The one named Jungkook grinned. “Hey, can you hook me up with some of the fun stuff? Not like what Jimin-ssi has here… You know. The fun shit.”

You little– “If you want the fun shit, you have to pay fun shit prices.”

He smiled at her. She did not like it. Not one bit.

“Yeah?”

He took a step towards her. And another. He was trying to back her against the wall, but she stood her ground. Every muscle in her body was tensed. She knew enough to avoid getting her ass kicked by the regular guy. Maybe a little more. He looked down at her, lips curled into a sly smirk. He had a jawline that could cut by itself. He was wearing a gentle cologne and, to be honest, he was attractive, which would be a shame if she had to break that nose.

“Maybe we can strike a deal?”

“Jungkook, I swear, if you even so much as put a finger on her,” Jimin said sternly. She could hear the warning in the shorter male’s voice. It was pretty frightening considering Jimin was one of her more cheerful customers.

Jungkook grinned and backed off. “I’m just kidding.”

She looked away from him and glowered at Jimin. He shook his head.

“Please don’t tell him,” he pleaded.

She looked back at Jungkook, who seemed quite smug about it all. Without warning, she swiftly kicked the back of his knees, making him stumble and cry out.

“Moon, please–”

Another swift chop straight to the sternum and Jungkook was on his knees, gasping for air. She held her fist centimeters from Jungkook’s face, making him freeze. Jimin hovered around, concerned, but it seemed like he was more concerned about her then Jungkook. And within those seconds of exchange, she realized two things.

One, Jungkook was fit. Really fit. And two, if she didn’t have surprise, then she probably would have bitten off more than she could chew. And that would mean…

She clutched her duffel bag and sent Jungkook her most scorching glare.

“Don’t get yourself involved in shit way over your head, kid.”

And, of course, instead of being apologetic or even angry, Jungkook smiled, licking his lips.

“Okay, noona.”

Later, when she was sitting in her room, she really wished she had just punched him.

-

“Are you coming to my party?” The phone quality didn’t hide the honey in Seokjin’s voice.

“No.”

She could almost hear his pout. “You never come anymore. We used to have such fun. You, me, and–”

She cut him off. “Did you talk to Jimin?”

His tone instantly darkened. “I did. He was very apologetic.”

She made a noise of disapproval.

“I didn’t break anything this time.”

“This time,” she echoed. “What about the brat?”

Seokjin brightened. “We had a little discussion. He’ll be a new customer soon.”

She wanted to strangle him. “Seokjin, I toldyou–”

“You only serve a few customers and you complain about one? One rowdy little thing?”

“This rowdy little thing is going to be trouble,” she warned.

“Don’t worry, my darling,” Seokjin cooed. “I made it very clear you’re mine.”

“I’m n–” And of course he hung up before she could say anything else. She glared at her phone and growled. She didn’t throw it, but she wanted to.

“Bastard,” she muttered to herself.

-

2.

–

masterpost

in other words: My Roommate is a Drug Dealer

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary:Min Yoongi is in luck when a super cheap room is up for rent. Or maybe not.

warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug abuse, depression and suicidal thoughts, abusive relationships, eventual smut

note: Main character is female. I use ‘she’ instead of ‘you’ in this case because I’m more comfortable writing the omnipresent POV. You are welcome to think of ‘she’ as yourself or an OC. Her name is never explicitly mentioned. The character’s appearance is set to fit the story and her role.

–

When he saw the ad online, he couldn’t believe the price. It had to be a joke. There had to be hidden fees or something wrong with the room. He was preparing himself for disappointment. It was too good to be true. As he arrived to the neat complex, he checked around for anything sketchy. It was eerily quiet as he knocked.

“Min Yoongi, right?”

The woman who greeted him at the door was calm and polite. She was wearing a large baggy gray sweatshirt and black pants with black slippers. He guessed she was around his age. Long dark hair, tied in a low ponytail. A plain, almost forgettable face. Almost, if it wasn’t for her piercing dark eyes. They were like bottomless pits, as if he was staring into a pair of black holes. He looked away quickly, somewhat perturbed.

“Uh… yeah. I’m here to look at the room.”

He needed this. After being kicked out of his last apartment, he couldn’t go home. He had to have something to show his parents that he could be successful in the music industry. But after producing a few remote albums and tracks, he barely had anything. Not to mention getting ripped off multiple times had him in this sticky financial situation. He bit his lip as he stepped into the apartment, looking around anxiously.

It was actually a very empty apartment. The center room was a living room and kitchen combination but there was no living room furniture, only a record player and boxes of records on a large bookshelf against the wall. The kitchen had two black stools at the counter. It was clean and neat, almost military. She gestured to the right, to the open door.

“This is the room,” the woman was saying quietly. “Bathroom is around the corner.”

There was no furniture in the room. Absolutely none. He tilted his head, looking around. The hardwood floors shone and despite how clean it was, he could see nick marks in the wood. He almost breathed in relief. At least there was some evidence someone lived here.

“Why hasn’t the room been rented out yet?” he asked, turning to the woman. “It looks nice.”

She was watching him carefully. It was unsettling. “Because I have rules that the tenant must agree to.”

Here we go. “What rules?”

Her eyes were fixated on him, blinking very sparingly. She held a hand up, counting with her fingers. “One: no people over. None. No friends, no family, no fuckbuddies. You want to fuck someone, do it at their place,” she stated with a completely straight face.

He was stunned at her language. He was beginning to understand why this place was still up for rent.

“Two: clean up after yourself. I will not ask twice. If you do not clean up after yourself, I will kick you out without hesitation. Three: I live in the room across from you.” She pointed with her pinky and he saw the other room opposite his. The door was closed. “If you have a problem with that, then leave. And finally, four…”

She paused. His throat felt dry.

“You break the record player or any of the records, I will break you.”

She said it so seriously that he was confused for a second. “Is… is that it?”

A small smile appeared on her lips. He blinked.

“Well, usually I just turn people away when I know they’re going to be assholes. You seem alright,” she replied, more to herself than to him. “You said you were a music producer? Is your work quiet?”

“I can work with headphones on,” he said hurriedly. “If needed, I can soundproof the room so you don’t hear much.”

“Hmm.” She was inspecting him like a hawk. He could feel her eyes on him. She took a few steps around him as she entered the room after him. “Have a lot of friends?”

His eyes shifted to the floor. “Not really.”

“Yeah, well, me neither. Rent is due on the first of each month.”

And that was that.

-

She was polite enough. She helped him move all of his equipment into the room and brought him some tables and a chair, saying they were from a secondhand store. He brought a mattress and set it up with a pillow and blanket. She was always dressed plainly. She had thin hands and long fingers. He noticed them when she was helping him move the tables.

He didn’t understand if she had a job or not. He would hear her leave at random times and she would reappear at equally random times. Sometimes in a black long coat, sometimes in a black bomber jacket and jeans, sometimes in a fluffy white jacket that made her look like a giant marshmallow. He noticed her makeup was always different too – sometimes very little, sometimes quite heavy, sometimes somewhere in between. If it wasn’t for his dire financial situation, he might have thought more about how he wasn’t quite sure what her face looked like.

Instead he spent most of his time in his room, working on his music.

-

“How’s my favorite girl?”

“I’m fine, Seokjin.”

She almost rolled her eyes at the man, who was sitting between two very attractive, very coked-out women. They threw themselves all over him, kissing his neck and chest through his dress shirt and blazer. Unfortunately, she couldn’t roll her eyes. She had to be serious.

He pouted. It was almost cute, if it wasn’t for the dangerous glint in his eyes. “Just fine? How can I make it better, my darling?”

“I’m not your darling, Seokjin,” she corrected calmly, setting the laptop bag in front of him. It was a scruffy laptop bag, similar to the type that students used.

“Yet.”

He pushed the girls aside and opened the bag, eyes lighting up at he saw the money. He zipped it back up and set his elbows on his knees, looking up curiously at her. “Wearing your gloves again, I see.”

She shrugged. “Eczema is pretty bad this year.”

The corner of his mouth curved upwards. “It’s bad every day of the year.”

She didn’t reply. He noticed she was dressed in a long black coat with a white blouse and ill-fitted black pants. Simple black shoes. Almost as if she was going to work. He frowned, shaking his head.

“I’m not into this ensemble today. I much preferred the jogger aesthetic you had on last time.”

She smiled. “You just like tight pants.”

“You know me too well.”

He stood up, confusing the girls. They ended up flopping on top of each other, giggling. He walked around the marble coffee table, handing her a leather-bound folder stuffed with papers.

“I’m glad you decided to continue working for me.”

She kept the smile plastered to her face as she took the folder from him. She kept it there as she bowed politely and walked out of that room, out of that house. Out of that neighborhood, until she was on the subway. The smile faded, replaced with a blank expression. The leather folder felt heavy in her hands. It felt like a brick she was dragging all the way home. She walked into the apartment, hearing the faint bass of music leaking underneath Yoongi’s door. He was a model roommate. He would probably be good looking too if he wasn’t so obsessed with music and less with eating a normal diet. But he was clean and kept to himself, so all was well.

She slipped into her room and locked the door.

The leather-bound folder was placed on the empty table. She took off her black leather gloves and replaced them with plastic ones. A swift swipe with a disinfecting wipe to get rid of the oils and the fingerprints. She opened the folder carefully, putting the useless papers aside. She found what she was looking for.

She pulled up her chair and sat down, staring at it.

It was like this every time. She questioned it every time. Then, like clockwork, she turned and opened a drawer to find the small plastic baggies. Slowly and carefully, she began to divide the white powder into the appropriate weight using the small scale in her desk.

Careful.

So careful not to breathe it in.

-

1.

–

masterpost

trust fund baby | ksj

drabbles inspired by TXT’s album minisode 2: thursday’s child

warnings: language, angst, classism; emotional infidelity; this one is sad as fuck, I warned you; reader’s POV; starring Kim Seokjin

–

bargaining. the third stage of grief

-

“Is something on your mind?”

You looked up from the pearl buttons of your blouse. “Eh?”

A tweak of his head and there was that childish, wonderous expression that only belonged to the handsome Kim Seokjin. Correction, the most handsome of them all Kim Seokjin. He would correct you if you spoke out loud and, at this point, your brain did it for you.

He stuck his full lips out and shifted his brows in inquiry. “If you’re running through your thoughts, you’ll get tired, you know. You don’t do enough cardio.”

You blinked at him.

Seokjin pulled a pout, nudging your leg. “Come on. You would have laughed before. What’s wrong?”

“That was really bad.”

He stuck his tongue out. “Bleh, and so what? You’re paid to laugh at them, so laugh!”

“Ha ha ha?”

“Ugh, stop, that’s even worse.”

You smiled at Seokjin’s look of disgust.

His gaze softened at your smile. He reached up and poked your cheek, half-smiling sheepishly.

“Hey. There it is.”

You looked back into those eyes that everyone thought held superficial, self-centered thoughts, but to you those orbs were chocolate, unaware of their own sweetness that melted at your touch. He smiled, a little extra fullness in those cheeks, his dark hair sticking up on one side because of your hand running through it earlier.

“I was afraid I couldn’t make your smile anymore,” he said softly, stroking your cheek.

I’m not like him.

You lifted your hand and held his, keeping your smile on your face. Just for him.

I know, I know, I’m not like him.

“You can make anyone smile, Seokjin,” you whispered back. “You’re so good at it.”

I wish everything’s a lie.

He squinted, suspicious. “Are you calling me a dork?”

Your smile grew, ghost of a laugh mingling with your words. “No, I’m complimenting you and your acting skills. You’re good at serious moments too. Drama. Romance. Even action. Kim Seokjin can do anything.”

“Well, they have stunt doubles for the crazyshit.”

You knew you were supposed to laugh, and you were so close to doing so, so close to reaching out and grasping onto the threads of the laugh at the edge of your throat, but you missed, finding only air, only zero at your fingertips, and Seokjin’s hand was falling from yours, empty-handed and empty-hearted, I wish everything’s a lie, and his lips were forming your name but you couldn’t hear it because he was in the world of winners and you were in the paradise of losers, the distance too far to see, too far to go.

Seokjin’s large hand fitted to your cheek.

You felt moistness pool at his thumb.

“What’s wrong? Do you need more this time? It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

You could clutch onto those bills forever, fill your hands with them until they overflowed, but it was all empty, empty because zero multiplied by anything was nothing.

“No… No, Seokjin, it’s okay–”

“Don’t worry, I have plenty. I completely understand,” he chided gently, wiping your tears away. “You’re embarrassed, huh? Come. Let me give you more this time.”

There is no more time.

And Seokjin could stuff your pockets full of cash until they spilled out of your expensive coat and tumbled to the ground, cover you in the bills, smother you with them, blot your tears with a silk handkerchief and correct your makeup with the softest powder puff, and yet everything was zero, zero, zero.

You grabbed his wrist, clutching it tightly.

Seokjin let you, biting his lip, knowing everything was zero, zero, zero.

“I tried. You have to believe me that I tried. This is the best I could do,” he whispered softly. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to do this anymore. I know it hurts you more than anyone else. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve done that too much already.”

But you were shaking your head, the word falling from your lips once more, no, because you knew he tried, he tried so hard to fight for you but his parents didn’t allow it, silver spoon never allowed to dine next to a pewter one, and so Seokjin married a woman he knew couldn’t bear children, all so you and him could have these moments, these appointed hours and money overflowing between you and him amongst tangled limbs and kisses that blew you away, because if you couldn’t have him, then maybe he could have…

Have one.

And leave you with zero.

Because you could never be a trust fund baby no matter how much you loved him and how much he loved you.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, Seokjin, it was just a moment, it’s nothing…”

And you reassured him, you recomposed yourself, you placed kisses on his worried expression and told him not to worry, whispering to his hair, I love you, I love you, I love you, and he looked up at you with childish, wonderous eyes, checking if you really were okay, and you gave him your smiles, your laughter, anything but the ultrasound stuffed to the bottom of your purse, just to have these few more moments of lingering forever even though you knew you had already lost this game.

There was no game over for Kim Seokjin.  Only the beginning of a new journey.

Once your job was done, it was goodbye.

I wish everything’s a lie.

–

far to go. drabble series

01 opening sequence — myg
03 trust fund baby — ksj
04 lonely boy (the tattoo on my ring finger) — kth, ft pjm
05 thursday’s child has far to go — knj, ft jhs
02 good boy gone bad — jjk, ft myg (collar!AU)

-

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

Author:vyduan
Pairing: Kim Seokjin | Reader, Kim Namjoon | Kim Seokjin
Genre: romance, comedy, light angst, friends to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, polyfidelity
Word Count:~12.3k
Rating: Mature, 18+
Warnings: swearing, legal consumption of alcohol, mentions of legal consumption of THC edibles, mentions of a bad come down from said THC edibles, discussion of polyamory, light discussions of incest, navigation of polyamory boundaries, light mentions of coming out to family, a lot of references to famous twins, general absurdity, and terrible jokes
[AO3]

Summary: Jin is in love with both Y/N and Namjoon – and they might love him back. One small problem: Y/N and Namjoon are twins.

Notes: There is no incest or sex (explicit or otherwise) portrayed in this fic.

Also, minus the Namjoon being my twin part, being in a poly relationship, and the Jin being in love with me part, a high percentage of this fic is ripped from my actual life. MAKE OF IT WHAT YOU WILL.

Special thanks to @bangtanbeforebitches,@reliablemitten,@justasparkwritings,@sugalaritae for checking content, beta-ing, bouncing ideas off of, sensitivity reading, and generally making sure I didn’t completely go off the rails. Super special thanks to @miscelunaaa​ and @thatlongspringnight​ for vibe checking the concluding paragraphs.

1.

“Jiiiinnnnnniiiiiiiieeeeeee!” you whine.

“Y/N?” he replies, voice muffled and soft with sleep. “You’re lucky I left the ringer on.”

“I took the wrong train hooooommmmmeeeee and Joonie won’t pick up because he is awful and asleep and doesn’t care about meeeeeeeeeeee~~~! Can you come get me at the stop by your house?”

You try to speak quietly because you really don’t need the entire train car to know your business but also, you’re a really poor gauge of volume at the moment due to the fact that you are slightly inebriated.

“How’d you get on the wrong train anyway?” Jin grumbles.

“I used up all my brain cells going into the city and interviewing people and then I could not brain after.” You frown when you hear Jin choke back a laugh. “Oh, wait. Brain means something else.”

“You’re something else,” he teases. “Could you brain before?”

“Jinnie!” You don’t know why you’re so in your feelings tonight. You’re sure you would have cracked up if you were your normal self but at the moment, it stings. “I swear I was on the right platform — but there are so many trains going out from there and I used to take this train all the time — or maybe I was supposed to transfer?”

Jin grunts in acknowledgment or maybe he’s chuckling at you. Either way, you feel judged. You hear shuffling in the background and some mumbled words and a response you don’t quite catch but seems to be in a woman’s register.

You ignore the smarting of your eyes and the ache in your chest. You’ve just been overserved is all. It’s really not worth overthinking now — or ever.

“Do you have company?” you pout. “I don’t want to bother you, Jinnie. I can take an Uber.”

He sighs. “You told me it cost $75 the last time you did this and that was years ago. I’m coming to pick you up.”

You frown and think real hard back to the stop you just passed. “I should be outside in about five to ten minutes?” You pause. “Can we make a stop for tacos, too? I would fuck those tacos up.”

“Y/N, it’s past 1am. Nothing is open.”

“I hate the ‘burbs,” you complain. “It’s the worst.”

“No, parking in SF is the worst. And so is not drinking because you have to drive home,” he says.

“Don’t be mean, Jinnie. I’m hungry and feel big dumb and I might need water.”

“I’ll have water for you in the car.”

“Thanks, Jinnie,” you breathe as you end the call.

A few really slow blinks later and you realize you’re at your stop and you barely make it out before the doors close and you’d have to shamefacedly call Jin again and ask him to meet you at the next BART stop down the line. You check the time on your phone as you text Jin that you’re on the way to the pickup area. You smile at the thumb’s up emoji he sends back.

It is 1:34am. You owe Jin big time.

You’re slightly more sober as you make your way to the curb and see the brief flash of Jin’s headlights.

“Hey, Squirt,” he says in way of greeting. His SUV echoes with his squeaky laugh when he catches the grimace on your face as he hands you a bottle of water.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“What? It’s a term of endearment,” he snickers not unkindly.

You huff and stare out the window at the passing streetlights. “You ask a hypothetical question one time! One time!”

“Was it really hypothetical though?” Jin muses as he gets on the freeway. “I won’t judge you. It’s a natural bodily function and some people find it hella hot.”

Your face burns and you are grateful for the low light. “Don’t make it weird, Jinnie. I’ll tell Namjoon.”

This time, it is Jin who grimaces. “No need to bring your brother into it,” he grumbles. “Joon has no chill when it comes to you.”

You sigh. “No, he really doesn’t,” you agree. “I guess I can thank him for my perpetual state of singlehood.”

“Nah,” grins Jin as he reaches over and ruffles your hair. You struggle not to push into his hand. “You can thank yourself for that.”

“Why are you so mean to me tonight? I’m drunk and I’m sensitive.”

You sound petulant even to your own ears. It has nothing to do with who Jin was with before he came to you. It has nothing to do with how you could never betray Namjoon.

Jin is quiet for a bit and you close your eyes while leaning against the cool of the window.

“I’m sorry, Y/N-ah,” he finally says. “I’m glad you got on the wrong train.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” you grumble.

“How would you have driven home? You’re still tipsy!” Jin insists. “You’d be at the BART station in the middle of the night all alone. At least I’m only ten minutes away from this stop.”

“You would have stayed in the car with me until I was sober or picked me up, Jinnie,” you mumble sleepily. “If I called you, you would have come.”

“Just like that, huh? Am I your dog or something?” Jin’s words seem scolding but you can hear the affection in his voice.

You yawn as you fight to stay awake. “No, Jinnie. You would have come because you love me.”

You drift off to sleep before you can hear his response, but deep in your heart, you are certain he says, “I do.”

2.

“Y/N, wake up. You’re home,” Jin says.

You mumble a “go away” quickly followed by a “fuck off,” refusing to move.

Jin sighs, wiping a weary hand over his face. You are both getting too old for this — not that he is too old — just for this. He has an early 6:30am call and it’s already 2am. By the time he gets you inside and then drives back home it will be past 3.

He does not want to think about whether or not there will be an angry woman in his bed when he gets home and if he has to deal with that fallout. He does not know if he hopes Aeri has gone back to sleep, has stayed up waiting to fight with him, or if she has left for her own home.

He sighs again and gets out, rounding his car to your side. He opens the door, unbuckles your seatbelt, and forces you up, hooking one of your arms around his neck.

“Come on, Y/N,” he fusses, “work with me here. I could have sworn you were sobering up and weren’t that drunk.”

Your only response is a garbled “mmmph” but you at least seem to be roused enough to help him help you through your front door and then up the stairs after he helps remove your boots.

Jin doesn’t know how he always seems to be the one who gets roped into bailing you and your twin out of trouble all the time, but here he is yet again. You and Namjoon will be the death of him one day, but what is a little sleep deprivation among lifelong friends?

Plus, he never really had much of a choice in the matter. Your mothers were best friends and as soon as Jin’s older brother was old enough to ditch you three, Jin was stuck being the only one with enough sense to keep you twins alive. He always marveled at how two of the smartest humans he knew could be so stupid.

“You might not have regular working hours, Y/N, but I do,” he nags. “You might end up with a parking ticket, too, if you don’t wake up in time to drive your car home — although, I suppose as long as you don’t exceed the 24-hour limit, you should be —”

Ah, fuck. Jin abruptly shuts himself up. He can’t believe he’s lecturing you on BART parking policies in the middle of the night. He can’t believe he knows the BART parking policies in the middle of the night — or at all!

He really needs to rethink his life.

“Let’s get you changed, Y/N. Can’t have outside clothes on the bed — especially after sitting on BART.”

Jin shudders at the thought as he finds your pajamas tossed on top of a rather large pile of clothing on the comfy reading chair he is positive you haven’t sat in since you bought it as it usually holds all your clothes.

“Fuck!” he yells as he accidentally jams his pinky toe in your bed frame.

“Shhhhhh!” you hiss. “Don’t wake up Joonie, Jin.”

Oh no. He is not going to be lectured about proper nighttime behavior by you of all people. “If you could actually wake Namjoon up once he’s gone to sleep, I wouldn’t be here right now!” exasperates Jin.

You have only just pulled your pajamas on and your hair is a staticky mess. You peer up at him, eyes welling with tears. “I’m sorry, Jinnie,” you sniffle. “I didn’t mean to get on the wrong train.”

“Oh, baby,” he croons automatically as he pulls you into a hug. “You really are drunk aren’t you?”

“I was so nervous about the press junket — I got to interview Michelle Fucking Yeoh — and then I met up with some journalist friends after the premier and I swear I didn’t have that many,” you blubber into the crook of his neck, your hot breath whispering over his skin.

He ignores the shiver threatening to roll down his spine. “Come on, now. Let oppa take care of you.”

You must be really out of it for the “oppa” not to elicit some lecture about being in America and it being super cringe. You refuse to even call Namjoon “oppa,” and he legitimately is your older brother — albeit by seven minutes. Jin cannot tell if he’s secretly pleased or not. Definitely not.

He pulls back the covers on your bed and tucks you in. You look so soft and blurry that his heart twinges and he has to look away. There is no use in dwelling on what is not or cannot be.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, only daring the endearment because he is certain you won’t remember it tomorrow.

3.

“Is she okay?” Aeri asks as Jin enters his kitchen. She is seated at his dining table and has all her things packed beside her.

“She’s asleep in her bed, safe and sound,” Jin replies wearily. He is too tired to do this.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jin,” she says softly. “You’re always leaving me to bail her out.”

“To be fair, I bail Joon out, too.”

“I suppose you do,” she concedes.

Jin pulls out a chair and slumps in its comforting sturdiness. “What would you have me do?”

“Let them figure out their own lives. Despite being the Disaster Twins, they are grown ups.”

“They would die spectacularly and my mother would never forgive me. How could I face my eomma if I didn’t keep the kids of her best friend alive in their absence?” Jin runs an exhausted hand through his dark locks. “Auntie would have never accepted that professor position at Seoul National University otherwise.”

Aeri huffs lightly. She is taking this rather well and Jin is both gratified and annoyed that he is gratified.

Jin prepares himself for the inevitable.

“We had fun for a few months, right?” she asks.

“We did,” he agrees.

Aeri rises and kisses him gently on the forehead before heading for his front door. “I’ll see you around, Jinnie.”

Aeri has actually been a little more understanding than most people he’s dated and he briefly regrets how it’s ending as he locks the door after her. He regrets that the prospect of her leaving doesn’t make more of an impact on him. That he would rather choose this perpetual limbo of picking up after you and Joon until each of you break his heart by falling in love with someone else.

He is a fool. He does not care.

4.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Namjoon worries after you tell him what happened.

“And how was I supposed to do that, Joonie?” you reply. “You could sleep through the apocalypse.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. You aren’t wrong. “Okay, fair,” he says. He should know better than to argue with you, but you are still his baby sister and old habits are hard to break. “How did you get home?”

You hesitate. “Jin.”

He sees how you tamp down your obvious feelings for their old friend and feels a surge of kinship. He, too, knows how that goes. “That was nice of him,” he says.

“Yeah,” you reply glumly. “Can you take me to get my car now?”

Namjoon nods and grabs his wallet and keys from the kitchen counter and wonders why you sound so sad.

“Why are you brooding, Y/N?” he asks as he pulls out the driveway.

You scowl into the sunshine. “Who’s brooding?”

“Must we?” he sighs.

You sigh, too. “I have to write my review today. Do you have time to look it over? I think it should be fine, but I’m including interview quotes and want to make sure it’s not too clunky,” you say, changing the subject effectively.

“Yeah, sure. I’ve got time,” Namjoon replies, allowing you your dodge.

There is no way the two of you could be so close if neither of you let the other be. You’ll tell him eventually. You always do unless it is about Jin. You almost never tell him anything important about Jin. The two of you never say anything important about Jin.

“Maybe while I’m looking over your review, you can read mine about the Alice Neel exhibit at the De Young,” he suggests.

You chuckle. “I wonder how our outlets would feel if they knew they were getting both Kim twins for the price of one,” you say.

“They wouldn’t push back on my rates, that’s for fucking sure,” Namjoon replies. “I’m surprised they haven’t caught on. There was some line you slipped into my piece about contemporary Asian American artists to watch that should have been a dead giveaway.”

You grin. “You kept it though.”

“‘Course, Y/N,” he says. “We’re besties for resties.”

“WONDER KIMS ACTIVATE!” you crow as you hold out a fist for him to bump.

Namjoon smiles and complies, loving the spark sneaking back into your eyes. When he drops you off at the lot, he says, “I’m going to make a stop at Starbucks. Want me to bring back something for you?”

“Oooooh! Can you get me as large a Dragon Drink as humanly possible?” you request.

“No ice, I presume?” he confirms.

You shudder. “Of course, no ice. I refuse to pay for frozen water.”

“Right, right. How dare you pay for them to take up space where your actual drink should be,” Namjoon observes.

“And it’s just too cold! You know how I hate to be cold, Joonie.”

“We’ll just agree to disagree.”

You sigh dramatically. “This is something you’ll just never understand. You’re a walking heater.”

“Can’t help being so hot,” he quips back, gloating as you groan.

“Well, now you have to bring me back a chicken sausage breakfast sandwich, too.”

He grunts his acknowledgement and debates texting Jin his thanks as he waits for you to get in and start the car. Namjoon decides he doesn’t know if he can handle being teased by the older man this early in the morning. Instead, he salutes you when you drive off and then goes on his own way.

5.

“Hyung,” Namjoon starts but is immediately cut off.

“Oh, no. Don’t hyung me,” retorts Jin. “You only call me hyung when you want something from me and I’m all tapped out. I’m still suffering the consequences of dealing with your sister.”

“But, hyung,” Namjoon whines, “you told me that I wasn’t allowed to do any more home improvement projects without consulting you first.”

Namjoon knows he’s playing dirty, but he’s desperate.

Besides, his parents are technically paying Jin to manage their property because no matter how much they love you and Namjoon, they also know you both. The two of you are equally useless and aren’t called the Disaster Twins for nothing — which is why his parents actually entrusted Jin with the care and keeping of their home.

It would be more lowering if it didn’t provide Namjoon with the perfect built-in excuse to request Jin’s presence. Not that Namjoon ever really needs a reason, but sometimes, it is awfully convenient.

“What did you do, Namjoon?” Jin asks, his voice rising slightly higher in register.

Namjoon clears his throat. “Nothing? I promise I didn’t break anything?”

“Yet, you mean,” Jin mumbles under his breath and Namjoon knows he has him.

He lets the awkward silence stretch, allowing Jin to conjure up all the worst case scenarios.

Namjoon’s been trying to put together this standing desk for the last three hours and he has a lot of extra screws and parts and he’s pretty sure that’s not what’s supposed to happen. Also, he may have mixed up the pieces of his desk with his new chair and maybe a fancy end table that he was trying to assemble at the same time.

He cannot wait for this mess to be taken care of by the ever-capable Jin. He hears Jin sigh and allows himself a brief, unbecoming moment of gloating.

“Have you eaten yet?” Jin asks, resigned.

Namjoon smiles wide into his phone. “Not yet, hyung. Can you pick up some jjajangmyeon?” he asks as innocently as possible.

“You’re lucky I’m in a giving mood, Joon,” Jin says as he ends the call.

And then, just like magic, Jin shows up at his front door with dinner and boba about two hours later.

“Where’s Y/N?” asks Jin.

Namjoon’s gut swoops a bit. He tells himself that Jin is only asking because he likely brought enough food for three and not because Jin would prefer to see his twin instead of himself. He trusts Jin and their friendship enough to know that Jin genuinely enjoys being with him.

But sometimes, it smarts more than he expects and Namjoon has to work extra hard to believe that he and Jin have something special all on their own. The lies have been getting louder lately and he doesn’t know what that means.

“She’s out with friends,” Namjoon answers. “I think it’s someone’s birthday?”

Jin nods and as he passes through the living room, says, “Please do not tell me you consider building furniture ‘making home improvements.’”

“Um, kinda?” gulps Namjoon.

Jin sounds way too hot when he scolds and it’s too much — at least it is before he’s had sustenance. He frowns and his eyebrows furrow. Namjoon thinks he might actually be in trouble until Jin wipes a hand over his face in exasperation, letting the tension out with a long exhale.

“Alright. I guess we should eat if I want to finish this bullshit sometime in the next century.”

Jin’s eyes soften and Namjoon’s heart lights up. He is so fucked.

6.

“You’re an idiot,” Yoongi chides.

Jin bristles slightly but papers it over with a lopsided grin. He digs deep and dials up his nonchalance. “Aeri and I weren’t serious anyway,” he says. He does not see the matching flickers of hurt on your and Namjoon’s faces. “You know I don’t do serious.”

Yoongi lifts both judgmental eyebrows and purses his lips. “Well, that’s a fucking lie.”

“Name one.” Jin glares at Yoongi, daring him to continue.

Yoongi smirks and sets down his longneck beer. “I can name two: Tia and Tamera.”

Yoongi receives high-fives from the rest of their friends and Jin chances a glance at you and Namjoon. The two of you look as horrified as he feels.

Jin wants to murder Yoongi, except then he’d be down a best friend and also, he’s too pretty to go to prison. Except, when Hoseok opens his big, fat mouth, Jin is willing to risk it all and murder him, too.

“You know Yoongi ain’t lying,” Hoseok cracks. “The way that Jenna and Barbara Bush here have you by the fucking balls, Jin. It would be pathetic if it wasn’t so endearing.”

“And don’t they know it,” Jungkook agrees. “Assholes constantly take advantage of your heart boner for them. Just make it official already.”

“I don’t —”

“Wait, I’m Jenna, right?” you interject.

“That’s laughable, Y/N. Like you’d make it on ‘The Today Show,’” Namjoon argues.

Jin appreciates the two of you trying to deflect, but he needs you both to know that he’s not a creep.

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re like my children,” Jin protests too loudly. “And you know I was talking specifically about romantic relationships.”

Jin’s heart thunders in his chest and he wonders how no one can see the way it pounds under his shirt. He is suddenly grateful for wearing a dark shirt so no one can see the sweat that must be staining his underarms.

“Oh, we’re aware,” Jimin leers. “Isn’t it every person’s fantasy to have a pair of hot twins as the ultimate flex? And here you have a wholeass Cole and Dylan Sprouse on each arm.”

Jin really wishes his friends would read the room and move on. They’re Korean, aren’t they? Where is everyone’s nunchi and why is no one exercising it?

“You don’t have to hide who you love, Jin,” Taehyung says quietly. “Do you think we wouldn’t support you?”

Jin panics.

Does everyone know his deepest, darkest secret? Do you and Namjoon know, too, and have just been too polite to ever say anything?

He does not dare look at either of you. Not now.

“You all think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” he grates out. “I practically raised The Barbi Twins and now you’re making me out to be a pervert or something. I deserve better than this.”

Jin pushes back from the table, gets up, and reaches into his wallet to throw down a bunch of twenties.

“Don’t go, Jinnie,” you say.

You are putting on a brave front. Jin knows because he can see the slight tremble in your plush lips and your dimples are nowhere to be found in your strained smile. Jin watches as Namjoon wraps an arm protectively around you and says nothing. He sucks in his cheeks and Jin knows Joon is pissed.

He has to leave.

“I’m no longer in the mood to be social,” he spits.

Jin refuses to make eye contact with any of his worthless friends and makes the 45 minute drive home in alternating waves of despair and fury.

He does not answer any texts or calls for the next two weeks — even if they’re from you or Namjoon. Jin doesn’t know if he can ever show his face again.

7.

“What the fuck, Yoongi?” snarls Namjoon at the same time you growl, “Was that really necessary?”

Namjoon’s heart aches and his stomach won’t stop churning. The horror written all over Jin’s face at even the idea of being in a relationship with either him or his twin is still fresh in his mind. He reaches for and squeezes your hand. You must be devastated.

“You okay?” he asks you quietly.

You sniff a watery sniff. “It’s nothing I didn’t already know — although, I had hoped that you, at least, had a chance.”

“The lot of you are fucking idiots,” Yoongi comments. “And quite frankly, I’m sick of it.”

“It’s been years of this bullshit,” Hoseok agrees.

“Imagine how I feel! I’ve known Jin since kindergarten and have had to witness this fucking ridiculous pageantry for decades. That’s right. Decades. Plural,” Yoongi continues.

“You’re severely mistaken.” Namjoon tries to keep the fury from his tone, but he is still too shaken. He is distraught. He wants to go home but he powers through for you.

Yoongi scoffs. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? This way, the two of you can continue to ignore the discomfort of being in love with the same man as well as the inherent squick factor of considering a polyamorous relationship with said man because you are siblings — not to mention twins.” Yoongi doesn’t even try to wipe the smug look off his face. “Do I have it about right?”

You are near tears and Namjoon is about to get into a fight with one of his best friends.

“No. Not even remotely. I’m not in love with Jin — and even if I were, he’s not in love with me,” you say. You glance at Namjoon meaningfully.

Namjoon wants to disagree because he’s seen how Jin treats you — how he’s always treated you — like you’re the most precious person in the room. He remembers how when you were all kids and Jin kept beating the two of you at rock, paper, scissors and you started crying. Jin told you to believe in yourself and to try again. From that moment on, he would alternate winning and losing rounds with you. He lost to no one else.

Jin still only loses to you at rock, paper, scissors. He’s gotten subtler at rigging the wins, but he still does so nonetheless.

No. You are also severely mistaken. Jin definitely loves you but likely doesn’t want to hurt Namjoon’s feelings. And so, Namjoon feels anew all the guilt of getting in the way of your happiness. And yet, he also cannot bear getting out of the way.

“You know, we say this all the time and yet, it bears repeating,” Jimin says. “You two are the stupidest geniuses we know.”

“And what do you know about it, Jimin?” says Namjoon, rounding on a new target. His heart still feels tender and there hasn’t been enough time for him to recover.

“Look, we’re not trying to be assholes —”

“It’s just effortless —”

“Joon —”

“No, Y/N. I want to hear more from our friends how they’re not trying to be assholes and yet are managing to be assholes anyway.” Namjoon fumes and doesn’t try to rein in his mouth. “We’re not characters in some tragicomic love story. You can’t just push us all together and say ‘now kiss’ and poof! Happily ever after!”

“Isn’t that exactly what you do to your characters in your novels?” Jungkook challenges. At Namjoon’s questioning look, he adds, “What? I read your books — I like romance novels. The gayer the better.”

“I set things up a bit better than that!” Namjoon complains.

“You absolutely do, hyung. Your tropes are well done,” he ingratiates.

Namjoon resists the urge to preen. “Stop distracting me by playing into my ego!”

“So it’s working?”

Jungkook flashes his bunny teeth in delight. Namjoon wishes the younger man isn’t so adorable and feels some of his outrage gutter out.

“Maybe.”

“Look, perhaps Yoongi could have broached the topic in a better way,” Taehyung starts. “And yes, you three aren’t pawns in some scripted poly love triangle — you’re real people with thoughts and feelings of your own.”

“Yes, so why don’t we leave me and Joonie and our individual feelings alone,” you interrupt.

Yoongi snorts. “Yeah, cuz that’s been working out so well.”

Taehyung glares at everyone. “As I was saying, we just want you three to know that there isn’t anything wrong with how you feel. That we support you and are rooting for you. That your desires are valid.”

“It’s moot anyway,” you say sadly. Namjoon wants to hug you but refrains. He knows if he does, you’ll start crying and then you’ll never forgive him. “You heard him. He doesn’t ‘do serious.’ And he certainly doesn’t ‘do serious’ with me or Namjoon.”

Jimin sighs audibly. “Whether you choose to use your fucking genius brains or not is up to you.” He holds out his hand to forestall the protest bubbling out of Namjoon’s throat. “But regardless of what you believe, you two need to figure out what you want and what your boundaries are about Jin. This whole pretend you don’t know when you do is exhausting — and we’re not even the ones going through it. We’re just the assholes who have to watch the trainwreck unfold in slow motion.”

Namjoon tries to catch your eye but you are now refusing to look at him, too. If he is honest with himself, he knows his friends are correct — even if they have shitty execution and implementation.

He is tired. Tired of hiding. Of lying to himself and to everyone else. Of lying to you.

Namjoon is tired of never saying anything important about Jin.

8.

“You wanna talk about it?” you ask when you and Namjoon get home.

“Not really,” your brother replies. “Maybe tomorrow when we’re less emotional?”

You know Namjoon is right. All you will do now is cry and that’s not useful. Particularly since Namjoon will capitulate and give you whatever you want when you do — a weakness you do not wish to exploit in regards to someone as important as Jin.

“Okay,” you start to say before you choke up.

Namjoon’s face falls. “Hey, hey. Come here,” he says with his arms wide open.

You go to your twin and let him hug you, grateful for his constant, steady presence. He pats your head, smoothing over your hair. You are suddenly reminded of a home video of when you were preschoolers that you used to watch all the time when you went off to university and missed Namjoon.

You took the last mandu and noticed Namjoon — whose head was stuck in a book even then — grabbing blindly with his chopsticks for another one. You looked down at your dumpling and back at Namjoon and then put it back onto the plate for your older brother to take. When he finally nabbed that elusive mandu, he plopped it into your bowl without even once looking up.

You stared at the proffering for a few stunned moments. A dimpled grin broke over your face and you leaned in to kiss Namjoon on the cheek. He blushed and tilted his head to knock into yours fondly. You bit the mandu in half and gave him the rest, to his great surprise and joy.

It is one of your favorite memories.

You wonder why your brain thought to supply your hurting heart with that soothing balm but are too weary to connect the dots. Instead you squeeze Namjoon one more time and say, “Goodnight, Joonie.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replies and kisses you on the crown of your head. “We’ll chat in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

You try to shush your already overactive brain as you get ready for bed but it is uncooperative. You send Jin a number of texts checking on him and worrying about him, but he does not respond. Your brain is also uncooperative at not freaking out about that, too.

Here’s the thing. It’s not that you think your friends are wrong exactly. You definitely think they’re onto something about Jin being in love with Namjoon.

You’ve seen all the pristine copies of your brother’s romance novels on Jin’s shelves and how he glows with pride whenever Namjoon goes on and on about some esoteric art thing or other. You notice the way the tips of Jin’s ears flush red when Namjoon compliments or thanks Jin for taking care of him all the time.

You have not, however, allowed yourself until now to think of the possibility that Jin could also be in love with you.

You do not want to believe it.

Yoongi is right.

The whole situation is messy.

Regardless of who loves who back, you and Namjoon are due for some hard and honest conversations about what it means to be in love with the same man. As your mind runs itself ragged over all the what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, you briefly allow yourself a moment to consider what you would ideally want.

You fall asleep and dream of mandu.

9.

“You’re a coward,” Namjoon says to himself.

Part of him feels as if he should defend himself — that he’s being too self-critical — but he has no defense. Otherwise, why would he be sneaking out of his house before you’re awake with only a text about how he forgot about a meeting with his agent — which isn’t untrue, exactly — even though he promised to discuss the whole Jin situation today?

And then, well, he just loses track of time.

He loses track of time on various Berkeley trails which happen to have spotty cellular service. When he finally comes back to civilization, he purposely turns off his phone and buys a ticket for “Everything Everywhere All At Once,” the latest movie you had reviewed — the one with Michelle Yeoh — and just lets the visuals and ideas overwhelm his senses as tears run down his face in the dark.

After the movie, he has so many thoughts and feelings that he heads to his favorite cafe and spends hours journaling and purging all the big ideas swirling around in his brain until closing. He grabs a sandwich and a drink and then drives up to Grizzly Peak and parks, content to watch the city lights of the Bay Area from the hood of his car.

Namjoon doesn’t know why he’s in such a mood.

Okay, that is a lie. He knows.

Namjoon is in love with Jin. He has never known a time without Jin being in his life, and Namjoon doesn’t know when his love for the older man changed from that of a younger brother to that of a man in love with another man.

Jin was there when Namjoon was figuring out his identity and coming to terms with being gay. Jin was there when Namjoon came out to his parents, who thanks to Jin coming out a few years prior, were pretty fucking awesome for Korean parents. Jin was there for Namjoon’s first heartbreak and first Grindr adventures. Jin was everything to Namjoon.

Jiniseverything.

Except, Namjoon knows Jin is not everything to just him and he is afraid.

Who falls in love with the same man as their twin and then shares him? Is that incestuous? Is that not just asking for trouble? What happens if they — in any configuration — do not last? Will Namjoon not only lose Jin — will he lose you, too?

He wants so much — but it seems impossible. He cannot see a way out.

10.

“You’re avoiding me, Joonie,” you say a few days later. You know it isn’t fair to corner him before he’s had his coffee but desperate times and all that.

Namjoon’s eyes shift guiltily. “I —” You cut your eyes at him and he quickly changes tack. “I am,” he admits.

“I want you to be happy,” you say. “And I want me to be happy — and most of all, I want Jin to be happy.”

Namjoon nods. “I know.”

“But, I don’t think any of us actually are.”

Namjoon nods again.

“I know you love him. That you’ve loved him for a long time — maybe longer than I have — in that way, I mean,” you start.

“Is that what we’re calling it? ‘In that way’?” your brother chuckles gently. “You sure you’re ready for this conversation?” he adds in that low rumble of his.

You’re not at all ready but you know you must and so you forge ahead. “Maybe we need soju,” you say.

“In vino veritas?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s 8:42 in the morning,” Namjoon observes.

“And your point? Isn’t that the best part about being freelance writers? We do whatever the fuck we want,” you reason.

“Should we get brunch then?”

You pause. There are merits to being in public: much less chance of making a scene in the event of a major disagreement. (Not that either of you are prone to making scenes.) However, the conversation feels too intimate, too vulnerable. You are worried people will overhear and judge.

“What if people overhear us?” you ask.

Your brother shrugs. “Who the fuck are they to me?”

He does have a point. “Very well. Let’s go get me some Bellinis and avocado toast.”

“You are such a fucking millennial.”

“We’re literally twins.”

“And yet, you choose to consume something as revolting as the avocado. Like, why do you even like it? It makes me mad,” Namjoon rants.

“I am aware,” you reply, a smile ghosting your lips. “And yet, it’s still delicious.”

“You like mint chocolate chip ice cream, too. Like, just eat toothpaste already.”

“Are you done?”

“No, I’m just getting started,” Namjoon gripes. “But I suppose you already know my arguments — though you remain a heathen.”

“It’s not my fault your arguments aren’t sound,” you rejoin. “You have no taste.”

The two of you bicker good-naturedly until you hit your favorite brunch spot. It briefly occurs to you that perhaps you should have chosen a new place in case today’s conversation doesn’t go well, but you are determined to be optimistic. You are sure you and your brother can be brave and honest for once about Jin.

“Did you want to start?” Namjoon asks after the server has taken your order.

You look at Namjoon carefully. You know how your brother is. He tends to yield to your wants and needs because he takes those seven minutes he has on you very seriously. He’s sweet that way and so you say, “No. I want to know what you really think and want without it being colored by what I want.”

Namjoon frowns. “I’m not spineless.”

“I didn’t say you were, Joonie,” you assuage. “You are kind and thoughtful and considerate and you want me to be happy even when it’s to your detriment.” You reach out to squeeze his hand. “I want to honor your wants and desires, too, Joonie. You are important to me.”

Namjoon flushes a little and toys with his utensils. He inhales a deep calming breath and you think anew that your brother is a good man. It is ironic that even though he clearly doesn’t want to go first, he is doing so out of deference to you wanting to defer to him. It’s convoluted but that’s how you two are sometimes.

“I love him, Y/N,” Namjoon says. He squirms and plays with the silver rings adorning his long fingers. “And it’s hard for me to talk about this because I think Jin knows — but he actually loves you — and I’m in the way.”

“How could you possibly be in the way?” you ask.

He huffs. “Because I’m so obvious. He must know that I love him and he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply brusquely. “You would never be in the way. As if you could possibly prevent Jin from doing whatever he wanted. If he hasn’t made a move on me, it’s because he doesn’t want to make a move on me.”

“Well, then by your logic, that must also mean he doesn’t want to make a move on me,” Namjoon replies.

“Oh,” you say as your face falls. “True.”

You sip on your Bellini as Namjoon sips on his Americano.

“But what if —” you start then stop. You gather your courage. “What if he does love you? And he is afraid that you do not love him back?”

“That’s not the case —”

“I didn’t say it was fact — just a hypothetical.” You are determined. “What if he does love you? Or if not love, is interested in dating you?”

Namjoon sips his Americano again for something to do. Longing and pain cross your twin’s handsome features. “I — I don’t know.”

“Why wouldn’t you be with him if you could be?” you press.

“But what about you?”

“What about me?” you lob back. “We’re talking about you. I’m a big girl. If Jin doesn’t love me back, I would be sad, but I would get over it. And I would be happy for you.”

“Would you though? How could you not hate me?” Namjoon asks.

“If it were reversed, would you hate me?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, then. Of course I would not hate you,” you say.

Namjoon shakes his head. “As if it is that simple.”

“Why can’t it be that simple?” You shrug. “I don’t know if that means I don’t love Jin enough, or love you more than I love Jin, or that it means something else altogether.” You pause as the server brings your avocado toast and Namjoon’s chicken fried steak. “It’s everything all at once, I guess.”

“Like the movie?” Namjoon jokes.

“I guess. Kinda.”

“How so?”

“Well, take for instance Yoongi’s theory that Jin is actually in love with both of us,” you say as you vigorously try to attack the avocado toast. You briefly wonder why they can’t do you a solid and pre-slice the bread and then you remember that you have hands and can just lift the toast to your mouth.

“A spurious theory, but okay,” says Namjoon, “I’ll play along.”

“Why can’t he love us both? Maybe that’s what has prevented him from doing anything about it all these years — he doesn’t know who to choose. But why does he have to choose if we both love him back?” you muse. “Why can’t we be open to all the possibilities?”

Namjoon looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Isn’t that like borderline incest?”

You put down your silverware. “Look, some twins or siblings are okay with having threesomes with varying levels of sexual contact between them. I am not one of those people.”

“I didn’t think you would be, but I’m glad we’re on the same page for that.”

“Well, I’m glad incest is off the table,” you crack.

“So then, what? We share Jin as a boyfriend? How does that even work? You have him on even days and I have him on odd days?” wonders Namjoon.

“He’s a person, not property. And I’m sure we’d figure it out so no one feels left out or neglected — but don’t we already do that?” you ask. “Wouldn’t it sort of be like it is now except with the additional element of sex?”

“Would it be an open relationship? Are we polyfidelitous?”

“I would not want to date other people, and I think I would be upset if Jin dated someone other than you. If you want to date other people, that would be something you and Jin discuss, right? Like, I would be okay with that since I’m not dating you. But you would have to use protection since obviously, what you do affects me.”

You shake your head. This is a little more complicated than you originally thought, but it doesn’t seem disastrous yet.

“I don’t want to date anyone other than Jin,” Namjoon says. “And I would also not like it if Jin dated anyone other than you.”

“He’s like that last mandu: if we’re lucky, he’ll let us both eat him.” You snort all of a sudden. “I don’t think this is what eomma and appa meant when they told us to share.”

“I suppose not,” laughs Namjoon. “Their own fault for not being more specific.”

You and Namjoon laugh for longer than his quip warrants, but you are just relieved that the conversation is proceeding as you had hoped.

“I guess all that remains is talking to Jin and seeing what he wants?” you mention finally.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Namjoon’s face immediately turns serious. “That would probably be easier to do if he was returning any of my calls or texts.”

“Same,” you reply. And then, you have an idea.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “You don’t need to. What sort of diabolical plan is going through your head right now, Y/N?”

“Don’t you think it’s time we paid imo a visit?”

Namjoon just shakes his head. “No fair using the man’s own mother against him.”

“You want us to get our man or not, Joonie?”

For the first time in a while, Namjoon seems lighter. You are hopeful that once you talk to Jin — even if the outcome is that he loves neither of you romantically — that at least you can all move on, whatever that looks like.

You are confident (perhaps unwarrantedly) that the three of you will navigate this new phase. After all, did you not all survive the horror that was Jin in his Nickelback phase? You shudder at the memory. Surely if your relationships emerged through that time of tribulation mostly unscathed, you could withstand anything.

11.

“Eomma!” Jin calls as he enters his parents’ house.

“I’m in the kitchen,” his mother calls back, “and what did I say about yelling in the house?”

Jin resists the urge to roll his eyes, hugging and kissing his mother instead. “Yes, eomma,” he says obediently.

He watches his mother putter around, washing and cutting fruit for the table. His mother has gone all out. The table is full of banchan, buchujeon, gimbap, and gamja jorim.

He narrows his eyes. “Eomma, why is there so much food? I thought you wanted me to come over for something urgent. You said something about a leak?”

“Ah, Seokjin-ah,” his mother says as she pats his cheek. “Turns out I just didn’t turn the faucet tight enough.”

Jin’s suspicions are immediately roused. “I told you I don’t want you to set me up with any more of your friend’s kids, eomma. I’m not interested.”

She cuts him a sly glance and he is not reassured. “Oh, I have a feeling you won’t mind so much.”

He gears himself to leave even though that would be unconscionably rude to his mother. He still hasn’t recovered from when Yoongi ambushed him about you and Namjoon. Every time Jin closes his eyes, he sees the revulsion on both your faces and thus, he has done the cowardly thing and refuses to answer any of his friends’ texts or well-meaning calls.

Jin just doesn’t have it in him to deal with his mother and the poor sap she and her friends have roped into this situation.

“Imo, are we late? We brought samgyeopsal from that place you like!”

Jin’s stomach drops when he hears your bright and cheerful voice. It takes all his self-control to stay put and not immediately flee.

“You’re right on time, Y/N,” his mother answers. “I’m almost done and then I’m off to the movies with Yoongi’s mother.”

“What did you do, eomma?” Jin hisses. He is so close to snapping that he cannot control himself.

His mother stops in her tracks and turns to him. “Jinnie, I want you to know that you are a good son.” The look on her face is strangely kind. “I love every part of you — even the parts you think you have to hide because you worry that your appa and I won’t approve.”

Jin feels unexpectedly naked. His parents are uncommonly supportive and he knows he is so very, very lucky. “Eomma,” he chokes out. “What — what brought this on?”

His mother hugs him right when you and Namjoon enter the kitchen. She whispers, “Follow your heart, Jinnie. You are so full of love — it’s about time you get all the love you deserve, too.”

Then she pats him on the cheek and heads to give you and Namjoon hugs of your own.

“Be good, children,” she says as she unties and then hangs up her apron. She winks at Jin and then she’s gone.

Jin swallows. He cannot bring himself to properly greet either of you. He notes that you and Namjoon have picked up on his distress and are now unsure of how to greet him.

“Jin? Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’m fine,” he wheezes. “I — what are you doing here?”

Namjoon’s eyes flick nervously to you. “Don’t be mad, Jinnie,” he cajoles. “It was Y/N’s idea — and you know how I can’t say ‘No’ to her.”

“Traitor,” you scowl. “And why would Jinnie be mad?” you brazen. “He should be ecstatic that he gets to see us on an unexpected Saturday afternoon after being deprived of our company for — what is it now? Three weeks?”

Namjoon sends Jin an apologetic shrug.

“I was busy,” Jin rasps. “I have a life without you, you know.”

“But what a sad life that is, Jinnie,” you snark. “We’re the twin stars of your life: your Pollux and Castor, your Kiki and Lala.”

“I have no idea who those people are,” Jin sighs.

Namjoon laughs, his dimples out in devastating force. “How do you still not know? Y/N tells this joke all the time.”

“You think I listen to her? She talks so much!” Jin throws back, grateful for the familiar rhythm.

“Why are you both so mean to me? Just for that, I’m eating all the pork belly.” You pout and Jin’s heart catches.

“As if that’s anything new,” Jin says. “I’ve known you your whole damn life and not once have you not hogged all the samgyeopsal.”

Namjoon holds out a fist for a bump and Jin is again grateful for the normalcy. He does not know how long it will last, but he will take it. The three of you bicker and settle into familiar beats as you all start digging into the bounty before you.

When you all have eaten your fill — and you indeed hoard all the pork belly — the prickling unease returns with a vengeance and he can sense the hidden agenda from a mile away. Jin doesn’t know how to deal and so he decides that he cannot live this half-life any longer.

“Either of you want to tell me what the hell this is all about?” he utters hoarsely. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

Namjoon snorts. “Right. You seem real happy about it.”

“It’s the second ambush in a month so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t seem thrilled.” Jin doesn’t mean for his words to come out so bitter, but his tongue moves of its own accord.

He is so tired.

“We’re in love with you,” you and Namjoon say at the same time.

“What?” Of all the things he expects to hear, that is not it, and especially not in stereo.

“We’re both in love with you,” Namjoon repeats. “And we hope that you love us, too?”

“You don’t have to,” you add hastily. “You can love or not love whomever you wish — in whatever configuration you choose — but if you happen to also love us — like romantically, not like your annoying but favorite siblings — we would be very much okay with that, too.”

Jin is trying to follow your logic the best he can. He fails. “What?”

“We’re in love with you, Jin,” Namjoon says again. “And if you want to be with us, either individually or as a two for one special, or not at all, we just want you to know. You deserve to know.”

“Jesus, Joon. We’re not a BOGO,” you grumble.

Your brother giggles nervously. “I mean, we kind of are?”

“We’re not carbon copies — we’re our own people!” you protest.

Namjoon hugs and shushes you. “Let’s not get off topic, Y/N,” he gently insists.

You blush and nod agreeably.

Jin still has not caught up. He cannot believe his ears. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Your face shatters. “No, Jinnie. We —”

“Is this a prank or some sort of fucked up test to make sure I’m not some sleazebag?” Jin checks. “This seems beyond the pale, even for you two.” Jin does not know why he is so angry except that he is. “This is cruel.”

Jin doesn’t register that he has stood up, his fists clenched.

“Please, Jin,” Namjoon begs. “Please hear us out.”

Namjoon seems as if he’s trying very hard not to cry — which makes no sense. Why would Namjoon be upset if he’s the one pranking Jin?

Jin reluctantly sits back down and jerks his chin in acknowledgment. He banks his panic until a more appropriate time.

“I love you, Jin,” says Namjoon, voice trembling. “I have loved you all my life and I cannot say when it changed from that of a younger brother to that of a man who loves a man.”

Namjoon’s voice is deep and serious — more serious than Jin has ever heard him.

“You taught me what it means to love and to love wholeheartedly and generously. You showed me how I deserve to be treated — like I’m the most precious person in the whole world.” Namjoon flushes crimson. “You see me, Jin. And I see you and love you.”

“You’re confused,” stutters Jin. “If I’m all you’ve known — you must be mistaken. You’ll fall in love for real one day and — and —” Jin’s voice breaks. He doesn’t know how to continue.

“I’m 29 years old, hyung,” Namjoon says firmly. “I think I’m experienced enough to know what I want and I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time. I would be yours if you would have me.”

Jin wants to scream. Namjoon says he loves him and yet his brain still balks. Perhaps now is the appropriate time to panic.

“This is a lot to take in,” he screeches instead. Jin’s entire body feels too hot and sweaty. If you are going to add your erroneous declarations of love, he does not know what he will do.

“Me, too,” you pipe up. “I may have loved you seven minutes fewer than Namjoon, but I also love you and am in love with you.”

“I —”

“You make me feel safe, Jin,” you say. “You accept me for who I am — even when I wreck all your plans and try your patience. You are my heart’s greatest wish and I want to be your safe place, Jinnie. I want to love you in the way you deserve. I want to make you happy.”

It’s too much.

Jin is not someone who likes to deal with emotions. He far prefers the zen of an empty head and coasts along blissfully in the present even when it comes to his deepest desires. He does not dwell. He does not allow himself the privilege of considering what he really wants.

Jin wants to cry and he hates it. He hates this feeling. He does not trust the way his heart surges at the prospect of his greatest wish coming true. He does not trust himself. He does not trust the two of you.

“I — I’m not sure what you want me to do with this information,” Jin muddles out.

“We want you to do whatever you want,” you say tentatively. “We just want you to know that in case you do return some of our feelings, that we are okay with you dating us both or only one of us or even not at all.”

“Is this a test?”

“Why do you keep asking us if it’s a test?” asks Namjoon. “What could we possibly be testing you for?”

“I don’t know,” Jin exasperates. “Like, some weird convoluted way to see who I love more or to see if I’m some dirty old man who wants to enact some freaky twin fantasy.”

“Oh, um, no threesomes, please,” you clarify quickly. “I — Joon — I mean, we’re not comfortable with that — if that’s okay.”

“But you’re both okay with me having sex with you individually,” Jin grits out. He ignores the way his gut kicks at the idea of sex with either of you individually.

The two of you nod and then, as if you both realize he needs verbal confirmation, say “yes” in sync. It’s a little disconcerting but if he’s honest, this entire afternoon has been disconcerting.

Jin glares at the two of you and can only hear the rush of the blood to his head. Perhaps his body has already gone ahead with the panicking.

“What, I’m just another thing you share between the two of you? Neither of you have found someone you really love so you’re settling for me and then, what? Decided to share because it’s convenient?” Jin doesn’t know where that thought comes from but now that it’s out, he realizes with a start that he really is worried about such a happenstance.

“Of course not, Jin,” you reply, sounding wounded. “You’re a person. You’re not a thing. And also, we have options!”

“Says the perpetually single person,” he digs.

“Single by choice,” you retort, eyes watery. “Don’t be mean. Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean it’s because I don’t have other people wanting to be with me.”

“Besides,” adds Namjoon. “We could accuse you of the same thing if you choose to date us. Maybe you like the flex of bagging twins — one of each gender, at that. Don’t think Y/N and I haven’t received offers. People are gross.”

Jin flinches. “And am I one of those gross people to you? If I were to want both of you, would I be disgusting?” His voice hitches and Jin hates himself for a moment.

“I think it would depend on why you would want us,” Namjoon replies carefully. “Would you want us because we’re twins or because you want us as individuals? Like, you want us as separate people first and foremost — the fact that we’re twins is incidental?”

You are equally as careful when you add, “It’s okay if you have a fantasy of fucking twins — we don’t judge. If that’s something you want, it’s what you want — but we can’t be that for you.”

“I — I don’t want that,” he scrapes out. “I would never make y— anyone — do something they didn’t want to do.”

Jin doesn’t know why he is still acting as if he is not in love with you both. All he knows is that he cannot bear to meet either of your gazes. He cannot comprehend why — when he is on the cusp of everything he has ever hoped for — why he is being so willfully obstinate.

Silence permeates his childhood kitchen.

All Jin can think of is countless meals and homework sessions with you two squeezed into this very same nook. He wonders if his kitchen table is where he fell in love with each of you — you for your stubborn vibrancy and Namjoon for his steady contemplation. This is where he witnessed the love you had for one other and found his soul deeply yearning to be part of it.

Jin startles when he realizes that it is still the case. From the outside, the mutual love and adoration between you and Namjoon makes a person yearn to be let in — to share in that bubble of affection and tenderness.

He startles again when he realizes that he has already been let in — that he is already included — and you two are inviting him in deeper.

Jin is a fool.

You and Namjoon love him. You and Namjoon are in love with him. You and Namjoon want to make a life with him — both separately and together — and he is bungling it.

He realizes that you and Namjoon have been quietly observing him as his life is flashing through his mind.

“I —” he starts and then stops. He shakes his head to clear it. “I’m an idiot.”

“Care to be more specific?” you question dryly.

He supposes your tone is warranted. “I’m in love with you, too,” he says, cutting to the chase. “I love you both — individually and collectively. I — I can’t remember not loving either of you. It’s all of a piece.” He pauses, gathering his wits. “It’s just that I’ve spent so long telling myself that what I want is greedy at best and disgusting at worst —”

“You’re not greedy or disgusting,” Namjoon interrupts. “You are valid.”

Jin chortles. He is amazed he can still chortle after the rollercoaster of emotions he’s had today. “Yes, Namjoon. I gave you that same talk if you recall.”

“Well, then, stop it. I don’t like it when you say negative things about yourself.”

A rush of fondness sweeps through Jin. “I appreciate the sentiment, Namjoon. I really do. And also, I’m trying to explain where I’m coming from.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbles. “Please continue.”

“Look, I’m not saying I care what society says about me and my sexual proclivities. And, I am still a product of society. As if the poly thing weren’t already against the social norm, I was lusting after twins!”

“So it’s just a physical attraction, huh?” you joke. “To be honest, same.”

Jin feels heat flare in his ears and travel down his neck into his chest. He knows you’re teasing but the idea of you finding him physically desirable stokes a dormant beast.

Namjoon tuts. “Y/N,” he reproves. “Stop distracting him.”

You stick your tongue out. “Stop being such a stick in the mud. I don’t know why it has to be so serious.”

“Anyway,” Jin says, clearing his throat, “it just felt unnecessarily complicated and taboo. It seemed too much to hope for. Too much to surmount.”

“Look at you,” you coo. “Using so many big words today.”

“You’re an ass,” Jin rejoins.

“But I’m your ass,” you try. “And now you can get some of this ass, too.”

Jin is in flames.

“Y/N!” cries Namjoon. “Ease up a bit — Jesus. No fair flirting before we’ve discussed boundaries. You think I don’t have a bunch of risqué bon mots waiting in the wings? I’m a romance and erotic fiction writer, for fuck’s sake!”

“Wait — you write erotic fiction?” Jin asks.

“How do you not know this? You said you’ve loved all my books!”

Jin winces. “And I do!” he insists, his voice pitching higher than he likes. “Nowhere have I actually stated that I’ve read them? They’re not mutually exclusive?”

You narrow your eyes at him and Jin feels as if he’s an insect pinned to a board. “Have you ever read any of our work?”

“I mean, define read?” he squawks.

“You’re really something else,” you sigh. You wave an imperious hand. “Fine, fine, fine. Please, do continue with your heartfelt confession of how much you love and want to bang us.”

“I — I think I’m done,” Jin huffs. “The moment has passed.”

“Hmmmph.”

“This is all so terribly scripted, but I suppose that’s to be expected in real life,” Namjoon observes.

“Sorry we’re not witty enough to be in one of your novels, Joonie,” you quip. “Though I confess, my professional pride is hurt.”

“You’ve literally written entire sections of my books for me when I’ve been stuck,” snipes Namjoon. “Do better.”

“Yeah? I’m still waiting for my royalties to roll in. Maybe I’ll sue.”

Jin is just fine with the attention being off of his dereliction of reading duties, but he’s not quite sure where the three of you are at. He sucks it up and re-enters the conversation.

“So, not to be the one reeling it back in all the time, but are we good? Are we a thing? Not a thing? A kinda thing?”

“Yes,” you and Namjoon chorus.

Jin resists th

hamsterclaw:

vyduan:

Author:vyduan
Pairing: Kim Seokjin | Reader 
Genre: light angst, idiots in love, arranged marriage
Word Count: ~2.1k
Rating:teen
Warnings:no use of pronouns for reader, reader is any gender, AFAB, swearing, miscarriage, infertility
[AO3]

Notes: Welp.@justasparkwriting lowkey asked for more and who am I not to oblige her? 

A comedy of manners: a comedy that satirizes behavior in a particular social group, especially the upper classes (from the Oxford English Dictionary)

Summary: You have 730 days to provide an heir for your husband Kim Seokjin before your marriage will summarily be annulled. Seokjin thinks he can fight it; you are resigned to your fate. You bend your entire will to getting (and staying) pregnant. Here’s what happens when you can’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kishōtenketsu Series Masterlist
For more of my fics, here is my Masterlist.

承 (chéng): handling, process, or hardships (from Wikipedia definition of Kishōtenketsu)

1.

“Do you think if we tell our parents we’re pregnant, they’ll finally lay off the constant nagging?” you ask your husband.

“Well, I suppose that depends on if you prefer the known quantity of them sending you the best sex positions for a guaranteed conception or if you prefer them micromanaging your diet and hovering over your every move for the next forty weeks,” your said husband replies.

He may have cotton in between his ears instead of brains, but he’s a sweetheart — if not a bit dim for all his top marks in college. You wonder anew at how even after a lifetime of knowing Kim Seokjin, he still manages to surprise you at a stupefying rate.

Keep reading

So I read this and was reminded of that saying about humour in tragedy. It’s punchy and funny and ridiculous and devastatingly human and I love it. ❤️❤️❤️❤️ i would keysmash a response but it always comes out looking strongly obscene when I do that….

@hamsterclaw AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!! Thank you so much!!! I’m sure keyboard smash looked entirely proper lolol.

Humor in tragedy is exactly the sentiment I was going for. I love that you got that and it spoke to you!!! I appreciate you!!!

reliablemitten:

vyduan:

Author:vyduan
Pairing: Kim Seokjin | Reader 
Genre: light angst, friends to lovers, slow burn, idiots in love, arranged marriage
Word Count: ~2.3k
Rating:teen
Warnings:no use of pronouns for reader, reader is any gender, AFAB, swearing, incredibly feats of fatuity
[AO3]

Notes: This is for the lovely and impeccable @thatlongspringnight for our six month possumversary. I adore you!!!! Also, much thanks to @wwilloww,@augustbutwinter, and @thatlongspringnight (who did not know she was helping me with her own gift). And bonus special thanks to @AttilaTheHun and their marvelous fic “Natural Gnosis And the Chaos Therein” for inspiring this Kim Seokjin. The way I scream in despair and adoration.

Summary: Kim Seokjin is a catch. He knows this. Everyone knows this. So how did he end up in an arranged marriage with you just to fulfill some stupid clause in order to inherit Kim Industries?

YES YES YES IT’S RIDICULOUS
AND MAKES NO SENSE
PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE LACK OF WORLD BUILDING OR SIGNIFICANT CONVERSATIONS
IT’S JUST A LONG SEOKJIN BABBLE
A BABBLE DRABBLE IF ONE WOULD

For more of my fics, here is my Masterlist.

1.

Here’s the thing. Kim Seokjin knows he’s a catch. After all, has anyone seen his glorious face? His perfectly outsized shoulder to waist ratio? His kissably plush lips? And above all, his delicately balanced genius interlaced with chaos — really the secret to his geniosity.

All this and more and yet, his family has chosen at this moment, a month before his thirtieth birthday, to pull the trigger on a fail-safe clause. Something something about how he, the imminent heir of the Kim dynasty of Kim Industries needs to be married by thirty in order to ensure that his family maintains control of all shares, etc., etc., of aforementioned industries and subsidiaries — as if a poison pill hadn’t been embedded in the admittedly fine print — he’s sure there must be a way other than marriage — to get him out of this fine pickle of a situation he’s found himself thus therein.

Keep reading

Vy I just marvel at how you write so well so fast. Y’all SHE WROTE THIS IN LIKE AN HOUR. I’ve had sneezes that took longer. This Seokjin and this OC, my heart just squeezed when after the first one she was like how can you have moved on? And the counting the days. And the end, his dad giving him grief for waiting so long.

Thank you so much, mitten!!!!! You are too kind!!! Thank you for loving this ridiculous couple!!!!! I adore you!

snowflowerbear:

vyduan:

Author:vyduan
Pairing:Kim Seokjin | Reader
Genre:Slow burn, friends to lovers
Rating:Explicit
Warning:post partum depression, depression, ante partum depression, smut
Total Word Count: 29,150

Story Summary: Y/N has known Seokjin since he was born. She has even helped change Seokjinnie’s diapers. Growing apart when Y/N went to the U.S. for college, Seokjin runs into Y/N when she is hired by Big Hit as a top consultant. Sparks fly despite Seokjin nursing a broken heart and Y/N trying to make partner at her firm. Will this noona ever see Seokjin as the man he now is?

Notes:Canon compliant, this is an idol AU set in the world of Shameless, the first of the Her Series.

Series Masterlist: Her |AO3

Story Masterlist: 

A Woman of a Certain Age - 01|02|03|04|05|06|07|08|09|10|Epilogue |AO3

For more of my fics, here is my Masterlist.

Butt’s numb from reading the entire series in 1 sitting, but no regrets at all.
From “Now, I have to bleach my eyes and the door!” to “You held your babies, sniffed their heads, and waited for that euphoria and influx of love you’d heard about from all your friends to kick in. It never came”, this made me laugh and (almost) cry in equal measure.

Such a beautifully rending masterpiece. Thank you for this!

@snowflowerbear Thank you so much! I so appreciate you and your reading it all in one go! What a compliment!!!! BORAHAEEEEE!!

Pairing: ot7 x gn!reader (a drabble for each member)

Word Count: 3430

Warnings: no warnings needed! this is basically just feel good u.u

Rating: pg

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

Summary: a small collection of moments in the domestic bliss you and him held.

AN:dropping this here for no reason other than to say yes I am alive strong power thank you

»»————-　♡　————-««

playfights are something that you always have to be on watch for withseokjin, with how mischievous he is. and at this moment, washing your dog, you are ever more on guard. or maybe not, because while you continue on lathering your dog’s dirty fur, you suddenly feel a blob of something wet on your head. your hair, to be specific. you can feel the soap slide down like a boat would fall down a waterfall, you flash a glare at seokjin, who’s suddenly looking all too nervous, eyes blinking fast, but the smile on his lips giving him away as the guilty apprehender. ‘it was the dog!’ he cries out, and you almost lunge at him- while he jumps away from you. 

'seokjin! get back here!’

'i’m innocent!' 

'no you’re not, that was the worst excuse i’ve ever heard!' 

you both end up running around the garden, soap trailing behind your figures and bubbles behind you, laughter ringing out in the air as you try, again and again, to catch him. it’s almost infuriating how your lover uses his longer legs to keep a healthy distance between the two of you. when you finally corner him, you’re both out of breath, and the water has made your clothes cling on too tight to your bodies, but you haven’t grinned or smiled or laughed as hard in a while, and the mirroring look on your lover’s face makes you think it’s worth it.

'it was an accident,’ he insists. 'the dog threw it, not me.’

you can’t even refute the ridiculousness of that statement. oh wait. you can. 'jin, the dog doesn’t even know how to throw the soap! and definitely not on my hair!’

a look of pure incredulity shows on his face, pout appearing and eyes blinking fast as if it will help give him credibility, the dork. 'well, that’s what it wants you to think.’ he concurs with a mockingly offended, quite overly dramatic tone, complete with a vivid shaking of the head. 'but i saw differently!’

'don’t you believe your husband?’

you burst out laughing, all over again, for some reason you can’t even explain, your heart sosososo full of love. 'god, why am i even in love with you?’

(the two of you do clean up the garden afterwards though, the plants and furniture drowned while you weren’t looking- not to mention you have to give the dog a bath all over again, as it rolled around in the dirt while the two of you were busy playing tag. 

seokjin, for his part, is completely unrepentant. you should be stricter, but…

well. at least he made you cookies afterwards.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

it’s an hour after three when yoongi comes home, tired, drowsy figure almost collapsing on the sofa as he yawns. he almost falls asleep when you flick the lights back on, watching with no small amount of glee and (some) frustration as the man startles, almost falling off said furniture.

'you really have got to stop staying up until it’s almost daytime,’ you chide him, walking over to tug him up and off of the sofa, sighing as you card fingers through his matted locks. he looks up at you with the poutiest expression ever, and you steel yourself to not give in with the sheer amount of cute that has congregated to make the person named min yoongi in your arms. instead you amble with him up the stairs, the two of you making for a pair of sleepy, exhausted lovebirds. you’ll have to put in first floor  bedrooms when you look for a house together, this happens one too many times already.

when you reach your shared bedroom, you push him into the shower, the water already heated up, while you take out a pair of pajamas.

drying his hair, when the both of you are prone to nodding off, is a herculean chore. still, it’s not as if you’re okay with wet hair on your pillow, and you know that’s an easy way to get sick the next day for him. 'you were in your studio again, weren’t you?’ you grumble, although you’re pretty sure he’s fallen asleep already and you’re talking to no one. yoongi, for all that he is there to take care of others, is surprisingly receptive to affection when left without a choice. 'i had to,’ he surprisingly says, stubborn, but with a sigh, his tone quiet but firm. 'inspiration struck’. and you can’t even argue against that, knowing full well how a muse is to her artist. so instead you settle for drawing him close, close, close, muttering softly.

'maybe i should ask if they can add a bedroom to the studio.’ you feel him smile against your skin, voice close enough to murmur in your ears. 

'you know i’ll only ever get to really sleep when i’m beside you.' 

you scoff. 'you and i both know that’s not true.’

warmth against your skin, an arm over yours, and a leg intertwined, soft hair tickling your cheeks, and you feel as if you could head off as it is, but no. he has the audacity to speak up again.

'you are my most melodious lullaby, the sweetest good morning, the link between my dreams and reality. if you aren’t there when i sleep and when i awake, then how do i know you aren’t just something i’ve been dreaming for? that you’re actually real, and right beside me?’ he presses a kiss against your skin, and, god, that smooth ass jerk, you refuse to look at him at all.

(you both wake up late that morning, and you find you can’t complain in the end anyway. even though he always ends up staying up far too late, at least, you know this, you and him will always be each other’s first view in the morning.

not a dream, indeed.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'come on, love, dance with me!’ you grin widely as you surprise hoseok, holding his hand captive in yours, the feather duster falling from his hands as you slide in front of him, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheeks. 

he splutters, 'i thought we were supposed to be cleaning,’ he raises an eyebrow at you, but you only nuzzle your nose against his, clutching onto him with a pout. there is a standoff with the two of you ending up staring at each other with all the fondness you can feel inside you, one that you end up winning when he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

'dusting can wait,’ you insist. 'we’re both already filthy anyway!’ he feels the laughter bubble up inside him, the helplessly fond smile he has reserved for you and you only showing. but you’re not lying, the attic room has been a mess the whole day and one afternoon will not transform it instantly. which is why, rather, standing in the middle of the not-so-crowded-anymore room, the sunlight beaming down from the window and the radio playing out an old love song, you find yourself more inclined to drop what you’re supposed to be doing, in favor of spending a few minutes to indulge. 

'your parents will get angry,’ he points out, and you hum as you place your hand with his, his arm settling across your waist. this is far from what he normally dances, sharp moves and fluid spins becoming slow and sweet, the usual awe-inducing performance making way for intimacy in that private way, where the two of you are in your own world, closed off from the others. in this moment, you think that’s not that far off from the truth. 

'they won’t mind,’ you shake your head. 'and we can just take a bath afterwards.’ he leads you in a sort of glide, across the room, the melody turning and twirling you around, heart beating in both of your chests in a steady, steady rate, each in time with the music. and when he ends the dance, you in his arms, both of you slightly breathless, staring into each other’s eyes, you find yourself wondering not for the first time if your lover is not warmth itself reincarnated, for how else can you explain away the feeling of being awash in sunlight, not a single part of you left untouched?

(what was supposed to take only a few days turns into a week and then some, but you can’t feel regret for a single moment as the attic becomes filled up with memories you already cherish, a secret hideaway for the two of you.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

’namjoon, come sit down on the grass with me,’ you call out, pout on your face as you beckon your lover to come on over. han river remains sparkling no matter whether daytime or nighttime, the waters reflecting the city’s beauty, and you are not the only admirer. still, there is something to be said about the way your lover looks as he falls into his thoughts. the two of you made plans to have a picnic here in the park, as the setting sun made itself known across the sky, but it’s less of a romantic escapade than it is a moment of peace, a brief respite in your hectic lives. 

'we should have brought a blanket,’ he finally says, but you interlace your hand with his, your fingers with his own, tugging him down. he easily complies for all that he complains, and you don’t think even he can deny how the grass feels under you. staring up at the dimming sky, blue and red bleeding into gold and purple, the stars beginning to peek through the curtains of night, you find yourself drifting away, the lull of the city dragging you to rest.

'what do you think of the multi-universe theory?’ you hear him ask. namjoon is looking up at the sky, and there is a familiar expression on his face that tells you he is thinking about the secrets of the universe yet again, of the human nature and how each and everyone is connected. it’s when he looks a little dazed, eyes focused on something beyond, a wistful tone in his voice, and he falls quiet, but when he speaks his thoughts there is always a 'what if?’. 'i wonder if we’d met in other universes too,’ he says simply. 

you laugh, gently. 'kim namjoon, if you are saying that there is a universe in which i see you and fail to love you, then let me reassure you now.’ he looks away, a pout barely surfacing on his face, and you turn towards him, hands clasped together and your hair spread below you, the two of you picture perfect. 'maybe that universe does exist. maybe in another space and time, i wouldn’t have the blessing that i have here, to love you as freely, as much as i can. but this isn’t that universe, and nothing will stop me from staying by your side.’

by the end of it, your head is turned away with embarrassment, unable to take what might be his reaction. when you hear him huff, quiet, you turn around. what greets you is namjoon, blushing. 'what would i do without you?’ he smiles, soft and sheepish and loving, and you roll your eyes, even as you feel yourself become something not unlike putty in this man’s hands, a wave of love crashing over the sandcastle that is you. 'let’s hope we never find out.’

(you spend hours in that park, talking about everything and anything, and when you go home it must be close to midnight. not that you regret it, though, when the two of you clumsily almost topple over each other, collapsing on your sofa, together, while you order takeout for the nth time because you’re both too tired to cook.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

you don’t think much of it, stealing jimin’s clothes is as normal, as easy as that for you. the two of you practically share the other’s now, a constant mismatch between your closet as what is yours and what is his is blurred, the lines toed and crossed over every time that it’s simply easier to count your closets as one being rather than two.

still, it makes for a messy, uncoordinated space, and it easily slips from your mind, or his, of the whereabouts of your belongings.

'babe,’ you can hear the pout in his voice. 'did you see my hoodie?’ 'which hoodie?’ 'my favorite one!’ 'which favorite one?’ at this point you see his head pop out from the doorframe, prominent lips stuck out and eyes searching the room. 'it’s the green one, the soft, huge, green hoodie. that one.’

you stifle a rising amount of chuckles as you eventually realize the location of the hoodie in question- on your body, as you stole it from his closet just this morning. you don’t think you can be seen as guilty though, not when the hoodie itself seemed to be begging for someone to wear it. impossibly soft, impossibly huge and impossibly sweet-smelling from the laundry softener you used, it was easy to drown in it and comfortably doze off. 'sorry baby, i don’t know where it went.’ 'okay, but, babe, can you help me…’

you startle as you surprisingly feel the shadow of your lover on your body, handsome face so suddenly, so dangerously close to your own, even if upside down. 'yn, you had it all this time!’ you chuckle at the whine in his voice, even as he leans forward to try and tug it off you. 'give it now,’ he says, but you shake your head, giggling as jimin tries. 'raise your arms! i can’t believe you made me run around looking for this,’ he grumbles, but you cross your arms instead, sitting up, turning around to face him, preparing yourself for a fight. 

'no way, this is the softest hoodie in the house. i’m not giving it up.’

a moment of silence, and then- jimin attacks you, lunging forward to glomp you. you feel yourself become confused, when you feel his fingers around your sides, and you burst out into laughter, long and loud. 

'no, jimin!' 

'give it back!' 

'no way!' 

'then suffer under my wrath!’

(he only stops when tears actually appear at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard, easily sprawling across your chest, the two of you on the floor and too tired to move. 'we can share,’ you hum, choking as your lover narrows his eyes at you, before decidedly burrowing under your hoodie as well. with how big it is, and how not big both of you are, you surprisingly fit with him inside. it’s too warm for two people inside, but as jimin lays his head comfortably across your chest, the thumping of your heart lulling him to rest, and he holds you in his arms, neither of you find you can argue against your positions.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

waking up with taehyung in the morning is an ordeal that never fails to make you smile. warmth pooling across the sheets, the warm breeze drafting in from the window, your lover’s body wrapped around yours- there is a kind of holy in the way serene mornings like these are, quiet and golden, the world seemingly stopping for a moment, if only for the two of you.

it breaks your heart every time to have to shatter the illusion. 'taehyung’, you whisper. there’s not even a twitch in his movements, snoring quiet but steady as he continues off to slumber. you, however, can’t get out of his hold, not without the man releasing you anyway- you would know, you’ve tried so many times before and it’s always been a moot point. the only way to get out of taehyung’s grip, is to wake him up into doing so. still, you find yourself soft and hesitant, every single time. 'taehyung,’ you try again, a little louder this time. you shake him, and it takes you a solid minute or two for the man to actually make a sound, a low groan at the back of his throat. when he registers the situation at hand, though, your lover declines to release you, holding you captive with his embrace instead.

'stay in bed with me,’ he almost whines, and you press your lips together to stop yourself from bursting into giggles.

'you know i can’t do that,’ you rebutt. 'i have work in an hour!' 

'but i can’t sleep without you.’

'you big baby,’ you fondly, exasperatedly call him out, and you see him briefly crack his eyes open, if only to look at you with a pout. 

you see him struggle whether or not to protest your words, before the sleepy takes over and he lazily agrees, pulling you closer in return. 'mhm, i’m your baby…' 

'taehyung…' 

'just a few more minutes, i swear,’ he presses a light kiss on your forehead, and you know it’s not just your imagination that you feel him smile against your skin, when you sigh loudly, relenting to his demands. 

'you’re incorrigible,’ you whine as you bury your head in his chest. 

'only because i love you.' 

you would call it a laugh if it weren’t for the yawn that sneaks in at the end.

and just as easy as that do you both fall off back to sleep, your phone’s alarm scaring the hell out of you half an hour later. it was practically a given that you’d end up falling back to sleep with him really, you could say it was a ritual at this point.

(you end up being late to work, as a matter of fact, but you can’t even find it in yourself to be angry. after all, there is quite nothing like waking up together in the morning, especially with your lover.

he takes you out on a date to the amusement park that weekend too, so you suppose you can forgive him.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

’jungkook,’ you muffle your laughter behind your hand, but there’s no denying the bright grin on your face as you feel your lover’s arms encircle your waist. bright and early, it’s early enough into the morning that the sky is still caught between the hues of red and pink, like a rose slowly blooming from night’s embrace. it’s what makes your lover’s apparent waking state a mystery, when you know how heavy your lover sleeps. there goes your plan to bring him breakfast in bed, huh? 

'what are you even doing?’ you receive no reply, not one in words anyway, as you hear him mutter something unintelligible into your shoulders. his warmth against your back is addicting, especially in the chill of the morning air, but you’re nothing if not determined, and if he’s here to drag you back to bed, you’re having none of it. 'if you’re sleepy,’ you start, turning around to hug him properly, jungkook’s face nuzzling into your neck afterwards. 'you should go back to bed.’ 'but you’re not there with me,’ you finally hear him say. 'just go back to cooking, i’ll just stay here…’

'jungkook, i can’t cook while you’re wrapped around me!’ you almost burst into laughter at that, what more at the earnest expression on your lover. 'why not?’ he grumbles, a pout appearing on his face. you don’t know whether to shake your head, or what- when your lover uses what he knows is his greatest weapon against you. 'don’t give me that look,’ you sigh, but your resolve crumbles quickly, and it’s obvious that jungkook can see it as well.

'don’t blame me if it turns out burnt,'  you finally sigh. you feel, rather than hear him chuckle briefly. 'i’m sure it will still be delicious.’ 'you say that no matter what i cook,’ you mutter under your breath and he stays quiet because you’re right. instead, you finally feel him disentangle from your, rather reluctantly, before he gets his own apron and gloves. 'then i guess we should just cook together then,’ he declares, bumping shoulders with you. 'can’t mess it up then, can we?’ he smirks, cocky and familiar, and you roll your eyes even as you feel yourself settle so easily by his side, the two of you finishing breakfast together.

(the food, amazingly enough, does not become burnt, and turns out well instead. of course, he did help you after all. still, sitting at the table, eating together, you smile easy, softly. how can you not? everything about this moment is perfect, and you wouldn’t have any qualms about it lasting forever.

judging by the smile on jungkook’s face, you aren’t the only one to feel this way, too.)

pairing: poly!ot7 x fem!reader

genre: bridgerton!au, regency era historical fiction, enemies to lovers, duke!bts x reader

warnings: historical inaccuracy

summary:y/n l/n was the most sought-after lady of this year’s social season. her beauty was unmatched, her wit far superior to those around her, her charm that of a descendent of royal blood. all these aspects of her made her the prize to be won in the spring of 1813. however, something nobody could have dreamt of for this year was the unexpected return of london’s seven most eligible bachelors, all of whom seemed to desire the diamond of the season.

word count: 3.7k

author’s note: i’m back babies!! i’ve finally finished all my finals and can get back to writing!! as a bit of an apology for being away for so long, this chapter is a bit of a double whammy!! it isn’t too lengthy but my hope is to improve on this eventually!!

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DEAREST READERS,

          Ambitious mamas rejoice, for the collection of stags continues to grace our fair city with their presence. And, oh, what an impressive presence it is!

          It should be noted that several of these bachelors have been overheard announcing to mamas everywhere that they have no plans of ever marrying, including the two most sought of them all, the Duke of Hastings and the Duke of Wellington. 

          This author wonders what brazen matchmaker shall rise to such a challenge, for this competition is well underway.

          In other news, a most peculiar turn of events has transpired with Miss L/N! Perhaps this author had misinterpreted the reasoning for her lack of gentlemanly suitors.

          A rumored encounter with the Earl of Dartmouth himself had reached this author’s ever-listening ear, and such a moment ended with remarks vulgar in tone. Though these musings are only of speculation, it does leave this author to wonder if our precious yet obstinate diamond has jagged edges that may draw blood from those who dare to touch her.

You were not a particular enthusiast of the theatre, but even you had to admit that the Theatre Royal was a magnificent sight to behold. Created with only the finest white marble imported from the far off land of Italy, the theatre stood between St Martin’s Lane and Drury Lane with a splendor that could only be usurped by the royal palace itself.

Lighting fixtures lined the entrance, their candles flickering with ferocity as dozens of people entered the building. Dressed in their second-to-best attire- for the best was saved for only the most prestigious of parties- the members of the ton traipsed through the theatre in preparation for a concert the length of nearly three hours.

Despite not finding yourself too thrilled to sit through hours of sopranos in handmade costumes, you were also grateful for the reprieve from your home.

After returning from your promenade with Rose and a chance encounter with a loathsome hound, you had to share a carriage home with Benjamin who was as stubborn as you. This shared characteristic caused an awkward yet icy half hour spent in the enclosed space of your carriage.

Naturally, when your mother suggested a night in a place Benjamin couldn’t stand, you were all too eager.

She had also told you that an event without your brother might help in reviving what reputation you had left. Though this would prove to be much more difficult than simply attending a performance, for upon your arrival, you felt a weight attach itself to your chest.

Many eyes became transfixed on you in but a single moment. The moment after the initial shift of focus to you came the infamous whisper behind the hand. This whisper was followed by a distinguished laugh that was created to deceive anyone passing by into believing they were not speaking gossip.

You wished to turn around and allow yourself to resign to your room where no one could harm you, verbally or otherwise.

However, you refused to falter. If you just held your head high, refusing to look directly at those who deigned to gossip, perhaps you could make it through the night with your dignity still intact.

“Our box, Mama?” You suggested when noting your own discomfort.

Your mother hummed in agreement as you both made your way to the box the opera house gifted you for your late father’s donations. He always was such a devotee to the arts…

“Lady L/N!” Lady Seon called out to your mother. “Do join us!”

Lady Seon stood beside Her Majesty. You felt your stomach churn, flipping like an acrobat in hopes of making a shilling or two on the street. And your sudden increase in unease was not so unjustified, for the queen sent a gaze to her servants upon taking in your presence.

Your mother took hold of your hand. Her eyes were hopeful, yet you could not feel the same faith as she as you both made your way towards her. You both curtsied before her, a similar feeling to the day of your presentation filling you.

“Your Majesty, good evening,” Your mother greeted charmingly. “You must remember my daughter, Y/N.”

“Yes, she made quite the impression…” The queen spoke plainly. She turned to her secretary. “However fleeting it may have been.”

If your stomach had been spinning before, it was now completely halted. You felt as though a wave of hot embarrassment had washed over you, causing the temperature in your cheeks to rise. You watched in complete mortification as she moved towards her special box, not evening having the strength to curtsy once again.

Lady Seon, seemingly unfazed by such an event, turned towards you, speaking with dictate, “I would like to welcome you both to my box this evening. I insist.”

Lady Seon, while not of much title, was a woman who held an air of respect. For some, people offered a false regard due to her raising a duke and then letting six other hellions run rampant through her estate, and hoped that perhaps an alliance with her might increase their daughter’s chance at a fortunate marriage. For others, they simply feared being on the bad side of a woman who had enough gaul to speak up without fear of consequence.

You just knew her as a family friend, though. So accepting such an offer was only instinct.

Trailing behind Lady Seon and your mother who made light conversation as they walked up the stairs to the private boxes. You, however, strayed a bit behind. You could not help but let your eyes dance about the space, taking a simple joy in the marvel that the architecture provided. 

Most of the walls were draped in red velvet curtains, as you assumed that what was underneath was nothing more than brick and mortar. Candelabras stood tall throughout the theater, allowing the patrons to make their way to the seats. No light could match that of the elegant chandelier that illuminated the room with its glistening crystals. It hung above the crowds, swaying slightly with the movement of nearly a hundred people flitting about the space. You wondered what a view might be like from such a height.

Though mere high ceilings and chandeliers could not keep the odd feelings that were festering in your mind at bay. It was an odd tickling at the back of your mind that was causing you some distress. The way others had stared at you only mere minutes ago was only what you could describe as a mocking child who would be scolded should their parent find them speaking so vilely.

Yet now, their eyes were a bit wide with surprise and said eyes followed you before flicking to Lady Seon, and then to her private box. It was as if they were stunned to see you walking behind Lady Seon despite having done so countless times before. What ever could be the reason for the quick change in attitude?

“Boys,” Lady Seon called. “I trust you recall Lady L/N?”

Oh.

Your mother curtsied, and her doing so gave you just enough of a view to see two heads of dark hair. The overwhelming sense of dread gave you no head start before it took hold of you.

“And you also must recall her daughter-”

“Miss L/N,” The voice that answered was deep, sultry, and one you hadn’t heard for quite some time.

Mama and Lady Seon moved in a departure that could rival that of the Red Sea in dramatics. In doing so, they revealed two figures whom you knew you would have to meet again- truly, were you running into these men on a timed schedule?- yet trembled at the thought.

Kim Seokjin, Earl of Scarborough, was the oldest of the seven and somehow the most mature yet immature of their bunch. He was always so loud, brandishing an air of chaos yet found the restrain to reel in the youngest of them.

In appearance, he hadn’t changed in the slightest. When he had left, he had already grown into himself. Much like his personality, everything about his facial features was big. From the fullness of his lips to the perfectly circular shape of his dark brown irises, every part of his face shouted at you with an inflated sense of grandeur.

Where Lord Kim exuded grandiosity, the Marquess of Hertford, Min Yoongi was adverse with an appearance of slight demeanor. His eyes were narrow, and they had always reminded you of a cat; slender and focused, always observing the things he was interested in while never giving second thought to the things he didn’t.

As mentioned prior, Lord Min was of a more reserved type. He did not smile often, but in the off chance he did, his thin lips would curl, revealing the pink gums that lay underneath. For now, though, he chose to give a closed-mouth simper as a means of greeting.

Once again finding yourself bound by society’s graces, you followed in your mother’s prior movement. You muttered out a greeting, but a disguised swat at your arm from your mother elicited a louder acknowledgement.

“Lord Kim, Lord Min,” You addressed. “How… surprising it is to see you.”

“Miss L/N,” Lord Kim beamed. “You have grown so much since we last met!”

Lord Kim, though not much older than you where a few flirtatious remarks would be deemed inappropriate. Though, in truth, nothing a man did could ever be labeled as such, especially where there were no standards or age restrictions for courtships.

However, had there been, you had doubts that it would stop such behavior from Lord Kim. Known to be ever the philanderer, nearing a title of “rakehall,” Lord Kim would often partake in the teasing of ladies who had the misfortune of entering his vicinity. So despite the words he spoke seeming to be nothing more than a mere observation, you could ascertain that they were layered with jest.

"I cannot say the same for you. You both appear as if you had not even left… what a pity.” You smirked.

“Y/N, please-” Your mama spoke through gritted teeth in what was supposed to be a smile.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Miss L/N,” Lord Min said with a face of stone. Some things rarely ever change.

“Yes,” You nodded stiffly. “A pleasure indeed.”

Your mother and Lady Seon had taken seats in the row behind Lord Kim and Lord Min, yet there were only two in that row. You felt a prick of annoyance but made no action to request for a change of order. If you were to sit beside one twit, you would at least do it with a shred of decorum.

Lord Kim and Lord Min had appeared to have other plans in store for you. There were three seats closest to the stage, and in some attempt at getting a rise out of you, Lord Min and Lord Kim had decided to fill the seats on each end, leaving the only remaining in the center.

You liked to think yourself a rather patient person when simple vexations were placed before you. Yet this was no simple vexation. This seemed too deliberate to be a coincidence, especially where these men were concerned.

You had standards for yourself, and you would not go quietly in this silent battle between yourself and them.

“Lord Kim,” You sighed as kindly as you could when faced with two humanized donkeys. “Would you be ever the gentleman and perhaps allow me to sit in your seat?”

“Forgive me, but I do quite enjoy this particular seat.” He was not forgiven in the slightest.

You were not sure what you should have expected. Even so, you were not going to allow them the satisfaction of seeing you cause a fuss over a simple seating arrangement. You lowered yourself to sitting between two unlicked cubs who would no doubt make teasing conversation with you on the subject of this unfortunate event.

You were gracious that the opera was starting. The roar of violas and cellos and any instrument you could envision kept their venomous tongues sealed within their mouths. If this continued for, say, the next three hours, perhaps you would title yourself a lover of the theater after all.

“So, Miss L/N,” Lord Kim prompted after a near fifteen minutes of contented silence. “How have you been these past two years? The season treating you well?”

It was a question that must have had a tier of mockery to it. Anyone with eyesight and the capability to read was aware that you were not faring well. Even if they were above reading Lady Whistledown as you wished you could be, it would only require a functioning ear to know that you were nearly off the marriage market.

Even if lying was an act you did not enjoy partaking in, you thought it best for your ego to bite your tongue on the truth of the matter. “I suppose it has. Though I do suppose it would not be treating me kindly now that I am in your presence.“

Your mama seemed to be invested in conversation with Lady Seon, leaving you a grateful woman. She had not overheard your attempted injury to Lord Kim and Lord Min’s pride. Perhaps it were the only part of this excursion that was tolerable.

“Ah, yes,” Lord Min drawled. “The others did say you were as feisty as ever. Perhaps you have not grown as much as we once assumed.”

Lord Min was in no way referring to height as Lord Kim had before. You had no doubt that he was referring to your level of maturity. True, you did not do much in your youth to filter your thoughts when with the seven of them. In that category, very little has changed. However, this gave them no right to speak on matters they knew nothing about!

You scoffed resentfully, “I can assure you that I have grown, as it were, much more than you believe. You cannot make such judgements after being away for so long! And I would ask of you to refrain from speaking of me in private, my lords. I find those who speak of others when they are unaware have the worst things to say.”

“Ah, just how little do you think of us, Miss L/N?”

“Very.” You rolled your eyes.

“I fear that is rather hypocritical of you, Miss L/N,” Lord Min remarked. “Was it not you who spoke of me without my knowledge only early in the day? I cannot recall Jimin’s exact words… What had he said again, Seokjin?”

“I believe he said that Miss L/N believed you would find ‘dismal demeanor’ to be attractive. Rather a nasty thing to proclaim so naturally. Am I correct in that belief, Miss L/N?” Lord Kim spoke with an impish grin.

You felt your face grow hot with embarrassment. You were caught, that much you knew and were not stupid enough to combat. You really should have known that Park Jimin would keep on his promise of informing Lord Min of your words said in passing with Rose. The scoundrel he was…

Because you were found out, you decided to lift your theater binoculars to your eyes so that you might avoid further interrogation into your hypocrisy. Save for a few mumbles of irritation, you remained mute as to focus on the scene before you. As fate would have it, you were not to entirely focus on such a thing.

“If you must know, Miss L/N,” You felt the whisper of his breath fan across the bareness of your neck. The sudden puff of air against your skin made you flinch, and such a vulnerable action made your already burning cheeks feel as though they were lit ablaze. “I do not find myself particularly enamored by ladies with a dreary countenance. They tend to be rather… boring.”

You could not see him, but you knew that he must have been close to your face for the warmth of his breath to hit you as it had. In knowing this, you refused to tear your magnified gaze away from the dark-haired woman belting arias from the stage. You would not allow him the satisfaction.

“I shall store such information in my memory,” You grumbled. “Hopefully it will be of the short-term.”

“Should you wish to hear what ladies do charm him?” Lord Kim questioned.

“Should I be privy to such information, Lord Kim?” You crossed, finally removing your glasses.

Not even a moment later and you wished you had remained stagnant. You wished to glare at his lordship, but found your face hardened in a flustered distinction.

You had accounted for Lord Min being relatively close to your person, yet you had not done the same for Lord Kim. His voice had not protruded your space as Lord Min’s did, so when you went to confront him, you were completely struck dumb to see him mere inches from your face.

You concluded that Lady Seon and your mother must have been deep in discussion, for any chaperone of a decent caliber would never allow such proximity between two single people, especially with one being a young lady like yourself.

That knowledge made you cripple with worry, for these boxes, though deemed private, were anything but. You surmised that people were already talking when they realized you were to be seated with the two.

Your only solace that this moment would not be seen as intimacy as merely as three people making conversation was that whispering to others during performances was not so uncommon. You desired to share in their blissful ignorance, yet fate did not seem to favor you this day.

“May you please remove yourself from my space, Lord Kim?” You asked 

“I may,” He said plainly. “I also may not.” Once again, you were unsure as to why you even asked him politely.

“You are intolerable.”

“What you can and cannot tolerate is of no concern to me.”

“If you believe yourself to be endearing, you are misguided in your beliefs.”

You decided to take matters into your own hands. You slumped into your seat in a rather unladylike fashion. You thought it would work to slip away from their close proximity, but Lord Kim had followed suit in your slouch. Lord Min merely chuckled at your frustration.

“You have no shame,” You spat. “Both of you.”

“Living life with shame makes for a rather miserable life, you know.” Yoongi stated.

“Yes, well,” You scowled at him. “It is rather easy to live without shame when there are few shameful moments in your life to plague you. Some of us have to bear such burdens.”

They seemed to understand your words faster than you did. Their sudden lack of confidence and newfound silence was jarring to you until you discerned what you said that might cause such a shift. It seemed that today was just filled with constant reminders…

What have you done?

The echo of Lord Kim’s past words bounced about your mind before being washed away with the crash of symbols and plucking of violin strings. You focused on the music, yet even a symphony could keep you from a quick travel through your most suppressed memories.

You felt an itch on your arm.

“The alto is rather pitchy.” Lord Kim noted. 

“As is the mezzo.” Lord Min agreed.

“The soprano is rather nice.” You mentioned.

"I have wonderful news, dearest,” Your mother spoke giddily as you boarded your carriage for the night.

The rest of the concert was spent in relative silence save for a few comments here and there. It seemed that your allusion to the past had made Lord Kim and Lord Min uncomfortable enough to spare you from further torment.

Still, you had been spent, exhaustion seeping into your skin and through your blood so that every muscle was heavy. You had not realized how tense you had been the entire night until you were seated in an environment that didn’t require you to be on guard.

“Hmm?” You hummed.

“I have secured you a suitor for the Salisbury ball tomorrow night!”

“That’s nice…” You murmured, too fatigued to connect the dots together.

“Excellent, I am glad that you agree!” Your mother smiled. “We shall meet the Duke upon our arrival.”

Your once relaxed muscles become rigid in a single moment. You sat straighter, your heart picking up in pace. “W-What?”

You felt as though you were going to be sick. Surely your mother could not have meant Kim Namjoon was to accompany you to such a public event! Unless… unless it were not he that she was referring to… If it were not, surely that could not have meant…

“T-The Duke of… um, Hastings?” Your own voice was failing you, stammers and stutters that you never dealt with before.

“No, dearest,” She replied. You felt your muscles regain the tension it held in the previous hours at this response. You had prayed that her next words would be different, yet they were just as you feared. “Jeon Jungkook, the Duke of Wellington has apparently shown an interest in you! As is the Baron Kim, dearest! We’re to attend a brunch with him and Lady Seon before the festivities! Oh, Y/N, isn’t this just wonderful?”

Wonderful.

Wonderful.

You would have chosen a much angrier word. A word that could convey how utterly sick to your stomach you felt knowing that you would have to hold Jeon Jungkook’s hand once again. You felt as though there was no word in the English lexicon that could convey every sweltering emotion racking your body.

The argument rested on your tongue with bitterness and the scorch of burning, like if someone poured a cup of coffee onto it. You wished to scream, to cry, to know that with the sword her majesty gave you not long ago, you could continue to fight without diving to such depths. And yet…

You had not seen such a glimmer in your mother’s eyes for days. Much like yourself, your mother had felt the burden of your predicament. For so long, it felt like despair and a bleak future was all that was ahead of you. This was the first time you’d seen even a sparkle of hope in the eyes that so resembled yours.

What have you done?

Rain tapped at the carriage window. You hated the rain. “Yes… I am so… very excited, Mama.”

a/n:one blue raspberry bang energy drink later… and the sky is now bright. please forgive the errors if you see any, i am fatigued

taglist: @purplelady85@heishichoulevi@laura-naruto-fan1998@sonnymii@psiphidragon@mirawi-fox@kassandravictoria@greezenini@editorofeverything @elegantly123​@xicanacorpse​ (please lmk if you’d like to be added!!)​

Summary: Seokjin and Y/N bake some gingerbread cookies together but as they are letting them cool, they realise that there is snow falling. After some time playing in the snow, the pair decide that a nice bath isn’t the only thing that is going to warm them up.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, and some soft smut. Kinda religious stuff I guess (Seokjin likes the idea of Y/N calling him her God)

“Like snow piles up, I remember what you gave me
You gave me the courage to live.”

“You look absolutely ridiculous.” Y/N giggled as she walked into the kitchen. Seokjin had texted her to come down and make gingerbread with him, so she happily obliged. But what she hadn’t expected was to see him stood in the kitchen, holding a wooden spoon and wearing a pink apron that said ‘Kiss the Cook’ all while having a pair of reindeer antlers complete with bells and baubles and ribbons on his head.

“I look amazing. You are just jealous.” He said. “You’re just boring, wearing your white hoodie and black sweatpants.”

“Well technically the hoodie isn’t mine.” She pointed out, stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss Jin. 

“Ah I can see that. Because it practically hangs off you. Let me guess, it’s Hoseok’s?” He guessed. Y/N nodded.

“Well done. You can recognise his cologne.” She giggled, making Jin brandish the spoon at her.

“Yah, you little brat.” He said. “Okay, go wash your hands, and then we can make these gingerbread cookies.”

“Yes sir,” she saluted him jokingly. She walked over to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly while Jin got out all the ingredients. 

Making gingerbread seemed complicated but was a lot easier than Y/N thought. After melting the butter and mixing it with the ingredients in a pan, they let it cool for a bit before rolling it out and creating the cookies.

“Did you have fun with Namjoon yesterday?” Jin asked. He was backhugging her as she washed up the things they had used and wouldn’t need to use again. 

“Yes. It was really fun. I got everyone’s presents.” Y/N replied, scrubbing at the pan, where some burned sugar remained. “It’s not coming off.” She complained.

“Here, let me try.” Jin pulled on a pair of gloves and took the scourer from her. “What presents did you get?”

Y/N opened her mouth to reply but realised what he was doing. She hit him with a towel. “Hey, no, that’s cheating!” She cried, causing Jin to laugh. “I’m too smart for your tricks.” The pair were silent as they got into a routine with Jin washing the pan and trying to get the stain off while Y/N dried the clean things and put them away.

When she turned around, she noticed white stuff falling from the sky. It was snow. “It’s snowing!” She exclaimed. “Come on, last one out has to finish cleaning that pan.”

She ran upstairs to put on her coat, hat, scarf, gloves. She pulled on her new boots and ran out into the back garden. “Haha, I won!” She exclaimed as Jin raced out. He wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around, making her laugh and scream.

“Either way I would have been cleaning that pan.” Seokjin pointed out, making her nod.

“Yup. That is correct.” She confirmed, making him set her down. He bent down and scooped up some snow before throwing it at her.

“Jin!” She yelped, taking cover behind Yoongi’s chair that he would sit in in the summer. “You’re so on, oppa!” She scooped up snow and tossed it at the older, who wasn’t able to duck in time so got a face full of snow.

“Oh, you little brat.” Jin scooped up even more snow and eventually they were having a snowball fight. When Jin was collecting more snowballs, Y/N left her hiding spot and jumped onto him, making them both fall to the floor as Jin yelled in shock.

“You scared me!” He said, turning his face to the side to glare at her lying on his back. She giggled and got off him, dusting off her clothes.

“I’m so sorry.” She said with a hint of sarcasm. Seokjin stood up and towered over her, wrapping his arms around her and keeping her still.

“I trapped you.” He said. She looked up at him, their eyes locking. “You look pretty with the snowflakes in your hair.” He said.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “You look handsome with snow in your hair too.”

“You look like an ice princess.” He said, subconsciously leaning down. Their lips connected and they kissed. It was full of love and a passion that caused something to ignite inside Y/N.

Jin’s tongue darted out to lick her lips before pushing into her mouth. She hummed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. “Inside. Go inside.” She said breathlessly. “Need you.” And she could feel just how much Jin needed her from how hard he was.

“Okay. Okay. Yes.” He said. “It will warm us up, and then we can have a nice bath after.”

“Sounds good, Jinnie.” She said as he carried her upstairs to his room, their clothes being pulled off at various points on the journey up. 

He kicked open his door and set her down. They both finished undressing each other, sharing kisses and touches as they did. “Sound so pretty, sweetheart.” Jin said as she let out a soft moan at his fingers brushing over her breasts. “Can’t wait to taste you.” He whispered in her ear. “I can’t wait to bury my head in that pretty little pussy of yours and make you cum so hard that you see stars.”

“I need you so bad, Jinnie.” She whispered in his ear, arching up into his touch. He traced his fingers down her stomach down to where she needed him the most. 

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” He asked, fingers hovering over her pussy.

“Please.” She looked up at him, giving him puppy eyes. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her as he slid his fingers into her pussy. “Ah.” She moaned into the kiss. He crooked them inside of her and pressed against her special spot that made her feel ecstatic. “Oh my God.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. I am your God.” Seokjin said, moving his fingers faster as he moved his head down to meet them, leaving a trail of kisses and bites in his wake. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled slightly as his tongue made contact with her clit, earning a groan from him. He wrapped his lips around her bundle of nerves and sucked, causing her hips to buck up at the sensation.

“Nah uh.” He said, pulling away. “Keep those hips still.” He pressed them down using a free hand. “You taste delicious, angel.” He said, slipping his tongue inside her.

“Oh God, that’s so good.” Y/N’s eyes rolled back at the feeling as her toes scrunched up. 

“I think I like you called me your God.” Seokjin said as he pulled away and lifted himself back up to hover over her face. “Are you ready for your God’s cock.”

Y/N felt a wave of pleasure roll through her at Seokjin’s confidence and him calling himself her God. “Please.” She managed to get out. Seokjin hummed and leaned down to kiss her.

“Whatever my angel wants, she will get.” Seokjin obliged, filling her in one thrust. Y/N let out a long moan. “I love making you sing.” He crooned, kissing her neck and sucking.

“I… Ah… Oh.” Y/N could not get a single sentence out, making Seokjin chuckle.

“Is my cock making you feel too good?” He asked.

“Feel so good. So full. Love it.” Y/N choked out, letting out another moan as Seokjin pushed in all the way and just rolled his hips, not thrusting anymore. “So deep.” She threw her head back and moved her hand to rub at her clit. 

Seokjin pushed her hand away. “I’ve got you. I can make you cum.” He said, pressing his thumb down, making her scream out. He rubbed it in tight circles, making her shudder.

“I’m close. Gonna cum. Please?” She asked.

“Cum whenever you need to.” Seokjin said, kissing her again. “Cum for your God.”

At his words, Y/N felt the knot inside her snap and her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm. “That’s it, angel. Such a good little angel.” He said. “Shit, angel.” He exclaimed. “You squirted.” He continued rolling his hips, chasing his own orgasm. “That was so hot. Covering me in your cum. Marking me as your own.”

“I didn’t know I could squirt.” Y/N said as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Our little secret for now. We can surprise the others.” He said. “Show them what we did tonight and how much you cum just from me.”

“I’d like that.” Y/N moaned, feeling overstimulated. His hips stuttered and he pulled out, releasing on her stomach. 

“Fuck angel.” He moaned out. He leaned down and kissed her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She replied. “I’m more than okay.” 

“That’s good, sweetheart. Come on, I’ll run you a bath.” He said standing up and taking her hand. He led her to the bathroom that was opposite his room after wrapping her up in a robe that he found on the back of his door.

“Can we have the coconut bubbles please?” She asked, snuggling into Seokjin’s side.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Seokjin selected her desired bubble bath and poured it into the water. 

“Seokjin oppa.” Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him while they waited for the bath to fill up.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked, looking down and stroking her hair.

“I love you.” She said. Seokjin smiled and leaned down to kiss her.

“I love you, too.” He said. He reached over to turn off the water. “Come on, in you get.” He kissed her cheek as he helped her out of the robe.

Once they had settled into the water, Y/N turned her head to look up at her soulmate. “What about the cookies?”

“We can finish them after, okay? We just need to roll out the dough. It’s supposed to cool anyway.” Seokjin reassured her.

“Okay.” Y/N settled against his front. 

“Just relax, okay? I’ll wash you.” He said, kissing the top of her head.

“I can do it, it’s fine.”

“I want to.” He said softly. “Let me take care of you.”

“Okay.” Y/N obliged. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Seokjin asked.

“For loving me how I am and not trying to change me.”

“I will always love you sweetheart. No matter what happens.” Seokjin said. And as he said that Y/N knew it was completely true and that it was completely true for all of them.

vampire bts, poly ot7 x uni student yn

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus’ most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth.

Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger.

It’s too bad that they can’t seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

(angst / smut / yandere / fluff / gore)

Masterlist / i dont have a tag list / find me on twitter  /  word count: 4.6k

(AN: Hi, all! This story is actually already posted on AO3. But, I decided to post it on here. I have almost 50 chapters of this story up over there, so I’ll slowly be adding them onto here too)

tw: drug use (not by main characters), alcohol, vomiting, crude language, nudity, possessive language

Chapter 19 ‘Intoxication’

The rest of the week passes by quickly, and before you know it, it’s the afternoon of the mixer at the EXO frat house.

You’ve always liked going to parties, dancing the night away until sweat is damp at your temples and your legs ache the next day because of how energetic you were being. You liked dressing up nicely, getting your makeup done and feeling pampered, which is why you didn’t argue with Young-mi when she dragged you to a pedicure appointment, citing your recent class stress as a reason to get taken care of.

After getting your toenails and fingers painted the same opalescent white that shone prettily under the light, Young-mi grabs an outfit from the nearest department store, after scanning the aisles for nearly an hour. There’s a reason why you order clothes online, you can’t stand the lengthy experience of being in a store for nearly half the day.

“What do you think about this one?” It’s a black and yellow co-ord, strappy set. Wide leg pants and covered in sunflowers. It would suit her skin tone prettily, and her toned stomach peeks out, unwittingly seductive. She’s barefoot, but you assume she would wear a simple pair of heels with it to complete the whole look. She gives you a cursory spin, arms out, and her expression is somewhat shy as she asks, “Too much?”

“No, it looks lovely,” you reply. And you aren’t lying, but you’ve said the same thing about the last four outfits she has tried on in the same flat tone. She gives you a nasty look before drawing the curtain closed with a low huff and the sound of shuffling clothes tells you she’s in a bad mood. “Honestly, Young-mi, you’ll look amazing in anything.”

“I don’t want to look amazing, I need to look fuckable,” she grumbles.

“The pants do make your ass look good,” you compliment, with a giggle. “But, the dresses mean easy access.”

You had already grabbed an outfit from the sale rack (you were on a budget, damn it) but you were happy with the quality and the style of the clothes, so you couldn’t complain. It fit nicely, and you know with your hair done and after shaving your legs (finally) you would feel much more confident in it. A small part of you wonders if the boys might find you pretty in it, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the thought so you quickly stamp on.

“Fine, fine. I think I’ll get the first and last one,” she says, rolling the clothes over her arm and handing the discarded outfit to the attendee by the door. The two of you join the queue when she asks, “Are you going to let me do your makeup tonight?”

“You know I’m hopeless at that,” you laugh. “I can just about do my eyebrows, and that’s only after you taught me.”

“I promise I won’t do too much,” she tells you, with a secret smile. “You’ll look amazing.”

Famous last words, you suppose.

———

“You said you wouldn’t do too much,” you groan, staring at your reflection in surprise. You look stunning, you know that. Your eyes are smoked out with a brown and gold, lined with dark liner, and there are some wispy lashes glued to your lids that make your whole face light up. You admit, she’s talented with a brush and some pretty colors, but you worry that looking so… appealing with all this on your face might make you feel self-conscious without it. You gesture to your face with a wave of your fingers, and you mutter, “This is the definition of ‘too much’.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, spinning you back around to face her in the office chair. “Close your mouth.”

You do as you are told. “Good girl.”

She gives you a cute smile and slides some gloss onto your lips before opening and closing her own, looking decidedly like a fish out of water. A gorgeous fish in a white, lace strappy dress but a fish nonetheless. “Do this.”

You copy her gesture, feeling the slick, thick, vanilla-scented gloss stick to your lips. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” she tells you. “Go and get dressed.”

You had been a towel for the last hour, letting her do your makeup and hair to compliment your outfit. Young-mi’s face and hair is done already – a classic makeup look on her face, pinks and nudes and beiges on her eyes and peach gloss on her lips making her appear like the main character out of a romance novel from the 20^th century, with pin-straight dark hair trailing down her spine.

“We can leave in, like, ten minutes,” she calls from the bathroom, where she’s touching up.

“I’ll call the Uber,” you tell her, stepping into your heels, stumbling slightly. Thankfully, you are wearing booted heels rather than the peep-toes that Young-mi chose to wear. You couldn’t afford to break your ankle tonight. “Fifteen minutes.”

You sit down in the living room after tugging on your clothes and scan your social media. A few messages from the boys greet you and you smile at their tone.

Jimin apparently was volunteering at the local homeless woman’s shelter tonight until the early hours of the morning, something he does quite often apparently, serving food, buying clothes and distributing hygiene products at the local WalMart. Yoongi was deejaying for the night and had already set out, sending a picture of himself in his black mask and bucket hat combination that sent your heart into a mini-frenzy.

Jin had a Skype call with his Dad about business, and you sent him a few gentle words of encouragement, knowing for some reason he didn’t like talking to his Dad for too long. You haven’t pried, and he hasn’t told you yet, so you are waiting patiently for him to do so at his own pace. Taehyung had spent the last 48 hours in the art studio, working on his mid-term illustration project and had been unbelievably stressed out, so he didn’t even reply to any messages, making you think he had long since fallen asleep.

The others had been actively pestering you for the last two hours, peppering you with cute questions that went unanswered while you had spent quality time with your bestie.

You send them a picture of your face, requested by Hobi once you had told them you were going out. The ones who replied don’t seem all too concerned about you going out, thankfully. The idea of them trying to control your movement, regardless of how much you appreciate and care about their opinion, makes you feel stifled, so when you receive nothing but compliments upon compliments, you feel warm spread inside your tummy.

“Are you done?”

Young-mi’s voice takes you by surprise.

Nodding at her, you let her know that the cab it outside and the two of you leave, giggling the entire way.

“The boys like your work,” you tell Young-mi as you both slide into the cab. To the driver, you tell him the address, ignoring his lascivious glance at your chest and exposed skin. Even though you are wearing a jacket, you feel like his stare is burning through the material of your camel coat, and you tighten it closer to you as if to protect your privacy. Asshole.  

“Of course, they do,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a smug wink. “I know what I’m doing, and my canvas was lovely already. It didn’t take much.”

Your phone buzzes and you glance down to see a message from your baby bun.

Joonie-hyung, Hobi-hyung and I decided to go to the party, so look out for us, noona! Your eyes are so beautiful tonight, I can’t wait to see them in person!

Feeling something akin to excitement bubble in your gut as you realize you will get to see the handsome gamer for the first time what feels like ages (you had seen him literally less than 24 hours ago, and yet it still feels like you are going out of your mind with missing his face).

Pulling up at the party, you already feel yourself getting into the mood. You had heard the music pumping from all the way down the street. The walk is quick, hurrying down the road, passing by the oddly parked cars that lined the campus street.

Instantly, you are enveloped by big, long hugs and have drinks thrust into your waiting palms. Young-mi’s classmate and close friend, Seoyeon, kisses your cheek, and you notice that her pupils are blown wide with something that can’t just be alcohol. Drugs haven’t ever been your thing, having dabbled with the odd joint or two in high school but never really pushing past that. She trips up a little in her excitement, and you find her behavior endearing, but you hope she has someone with her that will keep her safe during her come down. Worst-comes-to-worst, it will have to be the two of you.

“YN! You look so pretty!” She compliments, happily, slumping against you with trembling legs. “Have you lost some weight?”

No, you had actually gained some around your hips, but you were happy with the gain of meat on your thighs. Your mom had complained about you losing weight because you weren’t getting regular, home-cooked meals. You shift the blame to Yoongi and Jin for continually filling your tummy with their splendid kitchen concoctions, Hoseok’s consistent late-night treats of pizza and Jimin sneaking bags of spicy tteok into the library for you to snack on after a long day of studying.

Jungkook offered to help you out in the gym if you wanted to lose the weight (“You look perfect the way you are, noona. But if you want to, I’ll help you. I promise I’ll go easy on you. What’s that look for? You don’t believe me?”) but you had never taken him up on it, secretly happy with the wobble and soft skin at your hips.

You drain the mix of red wine and lemonade, humming contentedly at the taste, before going back for a second cup, handing one to Young-mi and another to Seoyeon, who had begun chatting animatedly with some strangers.

Mid-sip, Young-mi jabs you sharply in your ribs, forcing some wine to spurt from your lips in shock. She babbles, gripping your arm excitedly, “Oh! YN! She’s over there. Doesn’t she just look so sexy?”

You look over at the roguish-looking, short-haired, heavily tatted chemistry major who keeps scanning your friend’s with barely-concealed lust in her eyes.

Oh, yes.

She was very sexy, and if Young-mi hadn’t snagged her, you might have given her some attention.

You nudge Young-mi playfully. “She’s totally into you!”

The music is so loud that you need to shout into her ear, so she can hear you.

She looks at you, nervously before she replies, shooting the girl a quick peek, “Are you sure?”

You nod, emphatically, and she takes a deep breath, gathering courage. You nudge her slightly in her direction and say, giddily, the alcohol already getting to your head, “Go for it! Get your pussy wet! One of us has to!”

A heavy hand on your hip makes your back stiffen instantly. It’s only when you realize that the touch is more familiar than you had thought that you relax slightly.

“Who’s getting wet?”

You look over your shoulder to see Jungkook, flushed cheeks and eyes wide, glittering even in the low light of the room, looming over you. (He’s wearing a grey tight shirt underneath an oversized tartan black, grey and white shirt with a matching bucket hat and some simple silver hoops in both of his ears. His hair is a mess of curls, the cherry-red having been touched up and brighter than ever before. He looks edible, if that even makes sense.)

Snorting, you gesture to Young-mi, who is practically stomping across the room to her target. The two of you watch as she taps the girl on the shoulder and leans in, whispering something in her ear, before trailing her hand down her back and pulling her onto the dance-floor.  

“I guess Young-mi isn’t coming home with me tonight,” you muse, absently. “Or, maybe she’ll bring her home.”

“She seems really into it,” Jungkook replies, his hand hasn’t moved from where it was resting on the swell of your hip. It feels like it burns through your coat and brands your skin. “Aren’t you hot in that coat, noona?”

He seems concerned and so, even though you weren’t particularly warm now, you nod, and he takes your hand, pulling you through the crowd and leading you into the room off to the left of the door.

“This is where everyone leaves their clothes,” he says, helping you out of your jacket carefully. He hangs the camel coat over the crook of his arm and goes quiet, eyes trailing down the lines of your body, in wonderment. “You look… so beautiful tonight.”

“Young-mi did her job well, I suppose,” you reply, giving him a little spin.

He feels the breath catch in his throat at the sight. The figure-hugging burgundy two-piece clings to every curve of your body, showing off a little bit of your pudgy centre. Jungkook wants to lathe his tongue along your ribs and take your skin into his mouth until bruises the same color as your wretched dress paint your flesh. He licks his lips, unconsciously, feeling the heat he carries for you roar to life, momentarily rendering him stupid.

And, clearly, not in control of his tongue.

“You always look this good, noona,” he asserts, gently. The music is still loud in the background, the bass pounding through the floor, sending vibrations through the soles of your heeled boots, but it’s as if he’s whispered the words directly into your ear canal – they are so clear. “You’re always so pretty to us.”

Shyly, you tuck some hair out of the way, not sure how to feel about the compliment. “T-Thank you.”

He shakes off his lust and he moves to hide your coat amongst the others. You don’t have anything of value in the pockets, so you don’t worry about anyone stealing your things. He turns to you and asks, “How about I get you a drink?”

“I’ve already had two,” you admit, blush creeping along your cheeks. He thinks he’s never seen anything lovelier. “But, I could do with another.”

“You’ve had a rough week,” he comments, nudging open the door and knitting his fingers with yours. “Don’t let go of my hand, okay, noona? I’ll keep you safe.”

The feeling of his large, cool palm caressing your warmer, smaller one makes your stomach flutter wildly.  You get bumped by people who pass you by, but he keeps tossing you concerned glances as he storms through the hordes of bodies. When he notices that you are being nudged, he practically pulls you flush to him and uses his larger form to keep you protected. When you spot the other two vampires, they both freeze at the sight of you, and just like with the maknae, their brains seem to instantly turn to mush.

“Joonie! Hobi!” You cry. “You look so good!”

And you mean it.

Joon has on a paisley bandana, a large lavender puffer jacket draped over his broad shoulders, a plain white shirt underneath that, despite the warm temperature inside of the frat due to the gyrating, sweating bodies, and some ripped jeans with some expensive looking sneakers on his feet.

When his wits come back to him, Namjoon hooks his arm around your waist and tugs you off the floor, pressing a kiss to your temple lightly. You hook your arm around his neck tightly and inhale in his heady cologne. He smells just as divine as he looks.

“You look stunning, YN,” he mumbles against your skin, careful to not hold you too tight, despite his raging desire to ravage you right here and now – fuck everyone else. He feels heat lick at his gut and he had to let you go before you feel the press of his need against your stomach, taking a marked step back.

Your eyes shift to the sunshine of the group and you appraise him with wide eyes. Hobi looks like a whole meal in a red and white ‘Rolling Stone’ tartan shirt with a thin white vest damp with sweat from his own gyration and ardent dancing beneath it. Black jeans shredded at the knee and a chain leading from a belt-loop to his pocket. His inky black hair is plastered to his forehead and atop his head is a black cap.

“You’ve been hiding these legs from us,” Hoseok comments, with a lewd wink, practically sweeping you off your feet with how he hugs you. He spins you in his arms and squeezes your middle tightly. “You look gorgeous.”

Shoving his head away from your face, you snort, ears burning, “You’re a pig.”

“But, I’m your pig,” he teases, bumping you before squeezing your waist lightly once. He oinks once, playfully, before hooking his arm around your shoulder, holding you close and tossing a dirty look over your head at a final-year student who had been eyeing your ass too much for his liking.

The possessive part of him wants to reach out and grab it in his hands, just so the little fucker can see you aren’t free to be gawped at, but his good common sense tells him that you would probably gut punch him for even thinking about it, and he is aware that his thoughts alone are stepping over a thick, thick line.

“How about we get some drinks for our YN? She’s lagging behind,” Jungkook taunts, reaching for the shots behind Namjoon’s body. “Here’s one.”

“Give me two, please,” you reply, holding the small plastic coloured glass filled with clear liquid. They stare at you, awkwardly. “You said I’m lagging behind. I need to catch up, don’t I? I don’t plan on remembering tonight, honestly.”

Hoseok gives you a crude look before he clinks his drink with yours, making some spill out and stain the floor. He promises, with a crooked grin, “I’ll make this a night you won’t be able to forget.”

———

“I’m never drinking again,” you groan, wetly, from the toilet bowl, hours later. Hoseok regards you, impassively, rubbing your back in soothing circles, and he winces, slightly, as another wave of vomit spills from your lips and fills the bowl. He presses the cold compress a little harder against the back of your neck, worriedly.

You had been puking now for nearly twenty minutes.

Jungkook isn’t fairing much better, having passed out cold in the car after having thrown up on himself in the backyard of the EXO frat house. He’d gotten into a fight with a partygoer who grabbed you roughly and went full caveman, bumping chests and shedding his shirt as if he were about to wrestle the man into submission. After breaking a bench in their backyard, the boys and a still-babbling you had slid into a cab and arrived at their apartment – not that you remember much of the trip from where you were sat, straddling Hobi’s lap, snoring into his neck while he stroked your back.

Joon had to carry Jungkook, with a sleepy, moody Taehyung’s help (they had called him to come help, considering the younger body was the heaviest in terms of weight and muscle mass), while Hoseok had carried you bridal-style, considering you were no longer able to hold yourself up, holding your heels, that you had tossed off in a huff, in one of his hands.

“I did tell you to stop after the second shot of Ciroc,” Hoseok replies from the edge of the bathtub. He’s holding back your hair and your phone (having dropped and smashed into pieces when you and Kookie thought it would be a good idea to turn the photographer into a walking rollercoaster) in his back pocket. “But you didn’t listen to me.”

You groan and spit up a little more into the toilet bowl. He tuts, sympathetically, and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “It’ll be okay, baby. Let it all out.”

Once he thinks you’re done, he gets you to sloppily wash your mouth out and even brushes your teeth and tongue, admiring your tiny molars in amusement, before getting your makeup off and in some pyjamas (one of Yoongi’s clean jerseys) and into his bed. You wrap yourself around Namjoon’s largest Ryan toy that Hoseok had ‘left’ on his bed the other night when he was having trouble sleeping.

Unexpectedly, you reach out, eyes still closed and cling to the chain around his neck, forcing him to jerk forward, before he disentangles himself, reluctantly pulling away.

“Stob being mean, ‘seokkie,” you whine, eyes rolling open before fluttering closed, as if merely keeping your orbs open was too much work for your alcohol-addled brain. “I- hic- I wanna cuddle.”

He stares down at you, contemplatively, but doesn’t make any move to get into Joon’s bed (the literature major is begrudgingly spending the night in Jungkook’s room, so the younger doesn’t puke in his sleep). You seem to notice that you aren’t being cuddled, so you start frowning (eyes still closed, like the adorable fucking thing you are).

“Why aren’t you- Come cuddle, Hoseok,” you repeat, holding your hands out to him, making grabby hands at him. Steeling yourself, you blink, wetly, up at the dancer, you tug yourself up, head lolling slightly to the side, and slur, softly, “Hobi, don’cha wanna cuddle?”

He lets out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face and takes in your vulnerable appearance. “You’re going to hit me in the morning.”

Shaking your head animatedly, only to stop when you make yourself dizzier, you exclaim, “Won’t!”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he grumbles, sardonically, moving to stand.

He sheds his clothes quickly, facing away from you, but you are paying attention. The lines of his back are sharp and well-built from years of intense dance training. He always had enticing lines of his body, whenever he wore form-fitting clothes or a belt around his waist, but it’s only when he’s partially nude that you realize just how cinched his waist is.

You burn slightly with envy and, not for the first time, wish your Mom had kept you up with ice skating from a young age. Alas, you had turned to books instead of bladed boots and here you are. His biceps flexing lightly as he kicks into some sweats catches your attention once more and you watch, fascinated, as he throws on a clean sleep shirt. When he’s turning to you, you catch, with wide eyes, the tail end of his abdominal area and- whew.

He’s built.

He quirks his brow at you and asks, smugly, “Like what you see, sunshine?”

He’s grinning at you, bright and warm, despite the early morning hour, and you can’t help but sigh, contentedly, as he slides between the sheets with you.

“Yeah, I do,” you admit, eyes brazenly taking in his form. He smells good, like aftershave and Hoseok, calm and a little citrusy. You lean forward and take another sniff, the warmth from his skin making your head swim. “I like it so much that I d’nt know what to do sometimes.”

He freezes all over, staring down at you in shock. “You don’t mean that, sunshine. You’re drunk.”

“Just ‘cause ‘m drunk doesn’t mean I d’nt know what I want,” you slur, burrowing into his chest.

He sighs but says nothing else, silently observing you, listening, waiting, for a lie.

“I really like you,” you mumble, curling your arm around his mid-section and pulling yourself closer to him, strangely desperate. Slowly, he relaxes under the gentle ministrations of your thumb swirling in light circles on his back. “I really like all of you.”

He lets out a light chuckle at your drunken rambling, pushing some hair from your face to just- look at you. He lays down, resting on his fist, and observes the slope of your nose, the puffiness of your lip, the freckles and beauty marks dotted all over the expanse of your face. Once he realizes you are fully asleep, your pulse (his favorite sound in the world) calm, he begins to trace the marks with his fingers, too enamored with the glow beneath your skin to stop.

“Is she asleep?” Yoongi asks, brow puckered as he steps into the room. One step into the apartment told him all he needed to know about how the night had gone. The smell of vomit, alcohol and tears lingered in the air, like poison, even though Hoseok had long opened the window. “Is she doing okay?”

“She was pretty bad,” Hoseok replies, quietly. “We didn’t realize how much she had drank while we weren’t looking. It’s our fault, hyung.”

He had no problem with her drinking to excess, when she was in a safe space and they could protect her, but in the outside world, she was their responsibility and anything bad that happened to her was at their feet.

“Joon is with Kookie,” he tells the blond. He tries to sit up, but you whine in your sleep and hold him tighter, brow furrowing. In fear of waking you up, he settles back down, gently patting your back to pacify you. He addresses Yoongi with a soft look in his eyes, “You can sleep here tonight, if you don’t feel comfortable leaving her with me.”

“I trust you, Hobi,” Yoongi replies blandly, when he sees Hobi’s tight grimace, but he does shed his clothes and slide into Namjoon’s bed. “I just- I feel like I have to be in here.”

“Better you than Taehyung,” Hoseok teases, an impish grin on his face. “He almost bit my head off for letting her get like this. You should have seen how he was cursing up a storm, knowing she was going to be at a party without any of us. He convinced Kookie, Joonie and I to go, last minute, because he was so exhausted.”

“He’s overprotective,” Yoongi admits. “For good reason. You know how he is.”

Hoseok exhales, turning on his side, moving his knee between your thighs and resting his hand on your back. You relax even further, tucking your nose into the crook of his neck, snuffling slightly. The puffs of warm air against his skin tethers Hobi in the moment, and he brushes some of your hair out of your face to stare down at you, love shining in his orbs. “She told me she likes us.”

Yoongi perks up at that, before his eyes take on a guarded note. “She’s drunk.”

“But still,” Hoseok says, eyes glued to the panes of your face, in reverence. “Drunk words are sober thoughts, hyung. She said it, and she meant it. She wasn’t lying.”

Yoongi pauses. “Hobi…”

“Come over, hyung,” he says, pulling back the sheet and patting the space by your other side. “She won’t mind.”

The blond eagerly gets into bed with the two, careful to not overstep boundaries. He rests on his back, one arm crooked beneath his head and the other resting on his chest above his heart. The two boys fall into a comfortable silence, listening to the sound of your heartbeat, lulled into the throes of sleep, sharing warmth and a sense of comfort that only their bond can create.

- end -

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19)

Ego [5]

mafia bts x stripper yn; hybrid universe

Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear in the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.

What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?

What happens when you find you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?

Masterlist  /  i don’t have a tag list  /  find me on twitter  /  word count: 3.2k

(yandere / angst / gore / fluff / smut / violence)

Chapter 5: ‘Writhing’

YN’s POV

Pre-heat hits you like a bag of bricks to the forehead.

You weren’t allowed on the club’s premises until your heat had completely passed, so it gives you one day before it starts and two days on the tail-end for scent regulation. According to legal regulations for both predators and prey working nightlife and entertainment. Even patrons existing on either side of the speciation spectrum had to abide by these rules as evidence of rut and heat was too obvious to hide.

Some used scent-blockers to try and wiggle around the rules but it never ended up well for anyone involved. Gang rapes, pheromone-induced premature rut or heat, neurotoxin-sickness brought on by rapid-exposure to uncontrolled semiochemicals. All of it, well-documented and heavily-regulated by employers and social-workers alike.

By purposefully triggering another person’s heat or rut, you could end up being imprisoned for up to two years or fined an exorbitant amount of money that would make you regret even bothering.

Technically, working at the library wasn’t dangerous despite your heat coming in tomorrow, so you tried to go in for a couple of hours to help re-arrange the new kid’s fiction section that you had created for the pre-schoolers that came in every other day for an hour in the mornings, but your cramps got so bad that your manager sent you some with some herbal tea and a gentle pat on the back.

Your manager, Areum, was a Beta owl-hybrid, with wide eyes and thick glasses that make her look far more innocent than she actually was. Her partner and wife, Mina, was an Omega owl-hybrid that liked to make sweet treats in her spare time. You had a number of her Tupperware containers in your cupboards that you were due to give back a long while ago.

You take the subway because you can’t afford another cab this month and it takes you about an hour before you can breach the safety of your own home, smelling your comfort scents.

A guy on the train makes a rude gesture at you, two fingers spread and his tongue working between the digits, and it makes you recoil in disgust. He doesn’t seem to like the fact that you aren’t into it, and he flips you off before he gets off at his station.

The whole ordeal makes you feel even more weary.

Blearily, you grab your blanket from the couch and undress yourself on the way to your bed, tripping a little over your pant leg and tossing your dirty clothes somewhere off to the side. Your sensitive nose can’t stand the scent of outsideon your clothes. It almost makes you want to burn them but you know how delusional that sounds.

You bang your hip on the bedside table and you curse, side throbbing and your head banging along with it.

Disorientated, you rifle through your drawers until you lay your hands on medicine for the headache and wrap yourself up in the sheets without a second’s thought.

It takes you a little while to drift off, the effects of the medication ebbing at the aches in your body slowly - it feels slower than usual - and seconds before you actually dissolve into the welcoming blanket of black that bleeds into your vision, you hear your phone ping from somewhere in your pile of clothes.

When you open your eyes, your room is pitch dark. The curtains are drawn open, but the only passing light you can see are the lights from the buildings across the way. You are too high up to be bothered by street lights, but you can hear the distant car driving across the highway your building was built near.

The reason you woke up wasn’t due to the arbitrary sounds of life outside of your window.

No, what woke you from your near-dead slumber was the incessant sound of your phone ringing that had bled into your dreams. In your dream-turned-nightmare, the talking beetle that had been your companion for your mythical journey spontaneously turned into a gigantic, human-eating cellphone and chased you down the street until you jolted out of bed, sweating.

Blinking away your bleariness, you roll out of bed and move to your feet, but, much to your shock, your legs turn to jelly. You have to drag yourself across the room to rifle through the pile of clothes, grimacing every time another smell hit your nose. Asphalt, grit, smog, cigarette smoke, human smell, other hybrids - it was all foul enough to make you feel distressed.

You grab the phone and push it to your ears. “Hello?”

“YN, are you okay?”

You pause for a moment, confusion taking over your features. “Jimin?”

He enquires, somewhat impatient, “Are you okay?”

You push your fingers into your eyes when a sudden burst of light makes your headache feel nauseous. “No, I feel shitty.”

“Why?”

You grumble, “Heat.”

A beat.

Then,“You’re in heat now?”

He sounds testy.

You clarify, “Not exactly.”

He grills, “Are you… Are you alone?”

Your frown deepens as you query, “Why?”

Jimin commands, amusement leaking into his tone, “Just answer the question, Pretty.”

You grumble, “Only Jungkook calls me that.”

He retorts, silkily, “Exactly why I’m doing the same.”

You decide to drop it. It didn’t matter what he called you, not right now. The blistering headache that had felt like it was burning through your body mere moments ago seems to be lessening gradually the longer you talk with the man. “I’m alone.”

Jimin replies, “Good. Keep it that way.”

“Why?”

He replies, simply, “You don’t need anybody. Not anymore.”

He’s lucky that pre-heat only gave you headaches and body shivers. You didn’t get horny until day two or three of your heat, especially considering you were without a heat-partner. But, something about his tone was testing that theory.

“I’ll bring whoever I want into my bed,” you respond, pressing the button for loud speaker. Your stomach pangs in hunger and now that your headache isn’t as over-bearing, you finally feel it. You move to your feet, kicking past the clothes you dropped on the way, and into your small kitchen. “That’s got nothing to do with you. Boss.”

You tack the end word on purpose, to remind him of his position in your life. “We might have shared a fun night of conversation, Jimin, but don’t get that confused with anything else.”

He lets out a gruff sounds, annoyed but not angry, before he answers, “And Jungkook? What about him? You think he’ll be happy with you spending your heat under somebody else?”

You barely hold back a sardonic laugh. “You were the one to remind me of my place in Jungkook’s life. Or did you suddenly forget that?”

He goes quiet on the phone, so silent that you have to look at the screen to check if he’s still on the line, before he grits out, “I’m sorry. For saying that.”

“No, you aren’t,” you return, cracking another egg into the bowl. A stuffed omelette sounds like just the right. Your heat was making your mouth loose, ignoring the risk to your job in that moment to get the truth off your chest. You continue, “Alphas like you never are. You just say whatever, do whatever and everyone else just listens. You’re never sorry because you don’t feel like you have to be.”

“I could be a different kind of Alpha,” he bargains, always the charmer. “You don’t know that.”

“Our first encounter says otherwise,” you answer. “Jungkook’s impression was much better.”

“He’s not as nice as you think,” Jimin grumbles like an admonished kid. “You wouldn’t like him more than you like me if you knew.”

“He’s already told me how bad of a guy he is,” you respond. “It’s kind of like a broken record at this point.”

He asks, noting your distracted tone of voice, “Are you doing something?”

You respond, shoveling the cooked mushrooms into the one half of the still-cooking omelette, “Cooking.”

Jimin remarks, “It’s eleven at night.”

You respond, absently, “I’ve been asleep all day.”

He asks, attentively, “Where does it hurt?”

You respond, honestly. You rummage through the refrigerator for some hot sauce to go over the top, “Headache, mostly. I feel better now though.”

Jimin prompts, “Since you slept?”

You shake your head, even though he can’t see you, and you return, honestly, “Since we started talking.”

He acknowledges, and you hear the pride in his voice so clearly, as if he were standing right next to you, “I’ve heard that just by hearing an Alpha’s voice, sometimes the effects of heat can relax.”

You riposte, almost amusedly, “Oh really?”

He hums. “How about we try something next time?”

You suggest, annoyance leaking into your tone, “A sex thing?”

Jimin laughs, the sound bright and buoyant, before he teases, “Your mind’s in the gutter.”

Unable to help yourself, you palliate, defensively, “I am in heat.”

Jimin tuts gently before he says, “I just meant we spend a little time together. See if we’re compatible.”

You respond, with an eye roll, “So this is about sex?”

He takes a moment to mull over your words before he clarifies, “That’s something we could work out later.”

You bite on your bottom lip, the suggestion of mind-numbing, deeply-satisfying sex making a coil of tension grow in your lower stomach.

You shove another mouthful of omelet into your mouth to stop yourself from letting out the breathy whine that threatens to escape your throat, and you grumble, “Talking about this with me is a little improper right now. I’m not in the right headspace to make these kinds of decisions.”

Jimin says, simply, “That’s why we’ll talk about it later.”

You clear your throat and reply,“Look, I’m eating and talking to you is making me jumpy.”

He counters, easily, and you can just imagine him, sprawling out on the couch, spreading his legs apart to just occupy space, “Okay. If Jungkook or I call you over the next couple of days, can I ask you to just pick up?”

“Why?”

“Not being able to see you is hard for him,” Jimin explains. He pauses for a moment before he carries on, “He’s scheduled for a couple fights over the next week or so and he gets into these funny head-spaces where he can’t talk in full sentences or empathize with anyone about anything. So, I told him I’d check on you.”

“Jungkook doesn’t care about me,” you grumble around a mouthful of cheese, egg and mushrooms. “He’s got a hard-on for me. There’s a difference.”

He makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat and he mutters, “If only you knew how wrong you were about that, Pretty.”

Something in his voice almost sounded regretful, but you ignore it, chalking it up to your heat making you crave things that you need to lock up tight in your heart.

“I have to go,” you say, suddenly.

He demands, hurt, “What? Why?”

“I’m tired again,” you respond, quietly, looking down at the half-full plate of steaming food, and the lack of appetite that washes over you frustrates you deeply. “I just want to sleep.”

“O-Okay, Pretty. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promises. “Pick up when I do… Please.”

Quickly, you end the call and toss the phone into the sofa. You toss the food into the refrigerator, knowing your body well enough to know that the urge to eat has disappeared for at least another three hours and in that time you know you can catch a bit of sleep before your body was thrown into over-drive.

Jimin’s POV

Letting YN put the phone down was harder than he thought it would be. His instincts were growling at him to go and see you in person - just to make sure you were okay with his own two eyes. He’s almost confused as to why he cares so much, considering he isn’t the one who wants to claim you.

Or, at least, he doesn’t think he does.

Not like Jungkook does.

Jungkook’s been on your ass like white on rice since the day you ran into his chest at the club, all teary-eyed with a rabbiting heartbeat. The wolf excitedly came home to tell the rest of the boys about this pretty little gazelle that he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off of, and that made him curious.

The others too.

Namjoon even had someone follow her at one point without Jungkook’s permission to make sure she wasn’t on the take or working with the cops. When he showed her picture to the rest of us, Hoseok almost jumped out of his skin with how fast he snatched it out of Joonie’s hand, eagerly explaining about how he knew about her.

The whole story about her friend working the blade and getting caught selling ass to a cop, then getting feisty with him and get popped in the mouth a couple times. YN came into a den of predators, an alpha-beta medley of pheromones that would have any prey skittish and crawling out of their skin, nervous but determined, and helped her friend home.

Hoseok found her unbearably cute, and brave, and he couldn’t stop himself from following her home. Hobi was a great tracker, his nose was better than any cop in his graduating class, and he found your apartment easily. He couldn’t enter, of course, with it being a prey-only complex.

But, he did sporadically park his car in the lot outside of your place or follow you home once he figured out you were working at the library, and then later at the strip club. He didn’t like it, thinking that it wasn’t a good place for you, thinking that it was dangerous, but he knows that it was only because he couldn’t go inside. He couldn’t risk you remembering his face, not when he hadn’t figured out how he wanted to approach you.

Hoseok surveilled voluntarily, never telling any of us about his pet project, but he did enjoy recounting all the times he got to see you in your element, much to Jungkook’s displeasure.

Hobi spent a whole lot of time gloating about how pretty you were, how kind you were even when eyes weren’t on you, how special you were, how brave you were, how sweet you smelled even on rainy days.

It was enough to bolster Jimin’s interest in you.

Jungkook was picky about things like this. It was his first time actually having someone catch his eye like this, so he wouldn’t let anyone come near you. Every time Jimin even mentioned coming into the club for a peek, Jungkook would start his posturing, tail swishing and a growl growing in his chest until Jimin eventually reneged.

Jungkook was technically higher up on their pack’s hierarchy than he was, although they never needed to enforce their dynamics at home. The only time they ever had to was during negotiations with other gangs to prove that there was a clear line of deference that ended with Namjoon, their leader.

Even though their home life wasn’t the same way, they needed to have the respect of the usually-traditional syndicates that they dealt with, otherwise they would be considered weak and would attract problems from other sadistic Alpha packs who thrived on violence and domination.

To do so, they had to show other people in their line of work that they had an unshakeable foundation built on deference and inflexible respect.

Although, they had mouth-pieces to work in their stead so they didn’t have to risk having their names and faces circulating. Men and women who, using their connections and endless streams of income, they had hoisted out of the dumpster and turned back into working, living human beings.

Men and women who they didn’t have to ask twice to do anything.

Men and women who owed them their lives, the very breath in their lungs.

Men and women who would die for them if they asked, falling on their sword without a moment’s hesitation.

As far as they knew, no law enforcement had their faces or real names, but a few members had a more public role.

Jimin, as the silent owner of a series of discotheques and strip clubs.

Jungkook, who was an under-ground fighter and wan involved with a couple of the big players pushing drugs out of his and some other gyms in the state. He didn’t just push drugs out of the gyms, obviously, but that was where he liked to prowl around the most.

Even Namjoon, whose official job was that of an international trader of foreign and exotic hybrids, meaning that he had to work closely with customs and even sometimes cops.

They knew our faces but have no idea just how deep the rabbit-hole goes. Never would they actually guess that the seven ‘menial players’ werethe cruel and vengeful organization that left fear in the hearts of criminals and cops alike across the country.

Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin all made the rest of their substantial income and their illicit connections being knee-deep in the illegal.

So, when Jungkook ended up falling into a rut after taking one too many sniffs of your underwear in bed, Jimin took that opportunity to go around his order.

The tabby-cat walked into the strip club, smelling the sex and sin in the air, and immediately spotted you on the top of the pole, dressed in ostentatiously bright zebra-print with a charming, seductive smile on your face that was equal parts siren as it was endearing. He could see it - the pretty in you, the softness in you, the sexy in you.

Jimin was techincally the boss’ boss’ boss so while Rocky knew him by name, the others staff didn’t.

Just the way he liked it.

He got his favorite drink sent up to their private VVIP lounge (somewhere that only he and the other six could even access) and spent the next hour silently lusting after you. He watched you, observed your behavior so closely that it was concerning, and he sent photos of you in all kinds of positions to Jungkook for spank-bank material.

Jimin felt the cravings before he started to notice the changes in his body. Alcohol stopped doing it for him a long time ago, which is when his habit started. He could control himself, most of the time, but when he got antsy and needed to ground himself in Joonie’s scent (and Namjoon had been out of the fucking country for half a month scouting for omega predators on behalf of some perverted oil tycoon in Dubai so he was already pissed off and uncomfortable), sometimes he had to rely on other means of calming himself down.

Jimin couldn’t help it. When he saw you walk in in the reflection of the glass, he let out some of that frustration on you - innocent and adorable you - and had you on your knees in seconds. He didn’t really expect you to be able to withstand how strong his compulsion was, but he was surprised by how queasy you looked.

It made him feel guilty.

Which is an emotion he wasn’t accustomed to feeling, not even towards omegas. He liked them, any alpha would, but he didn’t feel sorryfor the things he did to them, especially if it wasn’t his fault.

None of them felt feelings of guilt or regret. It had been long beaten out of them at the group home, or after many years of working knee-deep in murder, drugs and solicitation.

That should’ve been the first indication that you weren’t going to be a normal omega to him.

But, Jimin wasn’t always quick on the up-take.

- end - 

Schemer,Abstentious,Thievery,Melancholy,Writhing

vampire bts, poly ot7 x uni student yn

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus’ most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth.

Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger.

It’s too bad that they can’t seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

(angst / smut / yandere / fluff / gore)

Masterlist / i dont have a tag list / find me on twitter  /  word count: 5.5k

(AN: Hi, all! This story is actually already posted on AO3. But, I decided to post it on here. I have almost 50 chapters of this story up over there, so I’ll slowly be adding them onto here too)

TW: sex dream marked with ~~~, crude and possessive language

Chapter 18: ‘Admiration’

Namjoon leaves in the morning, without alerting you to his departure, but he does press a kiss to your forehead unable to ignore the urge to scent-mark you somehow. He steps over the bodies littering the living room and ignores the lustful stares he receives from the girls that had been awake for some time. He knows what it looks like, and a small, conceited part of him wants them to think something happened between YN and himself.

He wants them to know she’s taken, and that she’s his, that she’s theirs.

Namjoon arrives back at the apartment, with a dire need to empty his bladder and brush his teeth, only to find six pairs of eyes glaring at him as soon as he opens the door.

Jimin takes one sniff of his clothes and snarls, accusingly, “You were with YN all night, weren’t you?”

Namjoon can’t even sigh before they are piling on his head, pulling at his clothes and whining like babies.

“You said we’d take it slow with her.”

“We weren’t allowed to meet with her, but you can?”

“That’s low, hyung!”

“Joon, you better start explaining yourself, before I lose my cool.”

He sighs. “Can I, at least, wash my face before I’m being interrogated?”

The boys roll their eyes and let him pass, begrudgingly. They collect in the living room, all taking their respective spots, subconsciously leaving one on the couch and another in the middle of the room where Joon takes his spot.

“I picked her up from work,” he says, towelling off his wet strands of purple. “We went back to her apartment. I slept over. No big deal.”

Jungkook asks, brow puckering,  "Nothing happened, hyung?”

“Something happened, it has to have,” Yoongi accuses, with a sharp glint in his eye. “Tell us, Joon.”

“I wouldn’t be able to lie to you guys,” Namjoon huffs. “We didn’t even sleep in the same bed. I slept on the floor. She’s probably still asleep now.”

They know he’s telling the truth, the steadiness of his pulse tells them that, but still, they still feel envious of the time he got to spend with her that they didn’t.

“Is- Is she doing okay?” Jimin asks, quietly. He’s picking at the sleeve of his striped sweater, looking ten times smaller than normal. He’s leaning against Yoongi, resting his weight on the composer, as if he couldn’t bear to stand. “Does she hate us?”

“She’s okay. Whatever happened while she was away must have helped her come to terms with her feelings towards us,” he says, contemplatively. The boys are all paying attention, focusing their eyes on their leader. “She isn’t mad at us anymore.”

Jungkook falls back, spreading out on the floor and he lets out a roar of happiness. “Thank fuck!”

Jimin laughs, dropping onto the maknae and burrowing into the dark material of his stomach.

Hoseok glances at them fondly, before he asks, “So, what’s the plan of action?”

“We play it by ear,” Jin suggests. “Take what she gives us and slowly build a relationship from there.”

Jimin asks, nervously, “Do you think it’s possible for her to really accept us as we are?”

“She’s getting over us being vampires,” Taehyung says, fairly. “If we explain to her our differences to humans, she may over time become open to our advances.”

“I don’t even really understand how it works,” Jimin admits. “But I do know that I don’t ever want to be without any of you, and especially not her.”

Yoongi nods in agreement, but he closes his eyes in minor frustration. “I really hate the whole convention around courting. It’s so stuffy and formal.”

“It’s long-winded but it’s a tradition,” Jin replies. “Our parents would kill us if we didn’t do this the right way.”

Taehyung perks up then and asks, “Speaking of our parents, have any of you actually told them about her?”

“I mentioned her briefly while we were on vacation,” Taehyung says. “They want to meet her once we’ve officially started courting her.”

“That’s going to be a shit show,” Jin mumbles, running a hand over his face. “My father is going to hit the roof.”

“He knows how soul-bonds work,” Namjoon comforts, pushing some of Jin’s dark hair from his face. He’s gotten tan over his two-week break in the Arab Emirates and he seems to glow from the inside out. “You had no choice in this, the same way none of us did.”

“Logic escapes him sometimes,” Jin spits out, face contorting in spite before he forces himself to calm down. “Anyway. Jiminie, how’s your mother’s health? I heard she was responding well to the change in medication.”

The pinkette nods happily, curling around Hoseok’s back and resting his head on his shoulder. The older man glances down at him, fondly, as he explains, “She video-called me yesterday, and she was outside. Just in the hospital garden, but still. I don’t think she’s been able to be outside since I was a kid. She looked so pretty next to the flowers.”

Jungkook sits up. Unconsciously, he curls around Jimin’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, and he asks, “Did you cry?”

The dancer nods, mood souring. “I felt overwhelmed, but I tried not to show it. When she went back inside, I cried a lot, thinking that she might be, you know, getting better. But, it’s happened before. She responds well for a while, before her blood disorder lashes back out at her and she’s back to square one.”

“You don’t want to get your hopes up,” Jin presumes, soberly.

Jimin nods, grimly. “My Dad’s been with her the whole time. He still loves and cares about her so much.”

“Your parents are literal soulmates,” Namjoon says. “Of course, he’s by her side.”

Jimin feels his lips pull up in a ghost of a smile. “You’re right, hyung.”

Jin moves to his feet and says, “Breakfast’s on me tonight. I don’t feel like cooking and I’ve been itching to try the diner that just opened up.”

“YN might like it there,” Taehyung suggests, grin broadening until it’s boxy and wide. “Maybe we should take her there one day.”

“One day, Taehyung,” Jin agrees, ruffling his blue strands. “Let’s go.”

~~~

“How bad do you want it, Cutie?” His voice murmurs against your neck, puffs of hot breath tickling against your skin, making you squirm. His tone is dark with promise, tongue snaking out to trail along your skin. Fingers curl in your hair and pull, not tight but firm, and he whispers against your neck, just as breathless, just as needy as you are, “C’mon, jagiya. Tell me.”

“Taehyung,” you whine, grinding down against him, in an aborted hip thrust, searching for friction where you need him the most. A series of deep throbs at your core have you clenching around nothing and you let out a gasp of frustration. He grips you tighter, halting your motions with a light tut of chastisement. You beg, pathetically, “It hurts.”

“Listen to her, Taehyung,” Jin chastises from behind you, fingers gripping your hip in an unyielding, possessive grip. You are moved against his front, so you are chest-to-chest, and even though you can’t see any faces through the fog, you can smell his skin, you can feel his familiar warmth, and you melt into him.“You’re being too mean with our precious YN. Petal, where do you want us?”

“I-Inside me,” you gasp out, pressing harder against the hard, hot length you feel press against your lower back. Taehyung hisses and shifts you the way he wants it, grinding against his leaking length, and you whimper, “I need you inside of me.”

The fog behind your lids clears, slowly, and you can briefly see Taehyung’s grin, salaciously, from beneath you.

“There she is,” he murmurs, hands cradling your chin, his eyes glittering with so much affection that it makes your heart ache. He says, eyes full of reverence and gaze syrupy with sweetness, “She’s finally looking at us again.”

“I’m so happy,” Jin murmurs, pressing kisses to your shoulder-blade. The dry press of his mouth on your skin might as well have been a dribble of molten lava with how deep it burns. Fuck, it burns so good. He whispers against your skin, quietly, “Welcome back, petal.”

Taehyung’s grin turns heated as his eyes graze over your body and he moves to sit up, pressing his nude chest against your back, skin already sticky with sweat. He holds your eyes as he murmurs, lips teasing yours but never touching, “We’re going to make you feel so good that you’re going to forget your own name.”

“Please,” you beg, and that’s the last coherent thought you have before you feel as if your insides are being stirred up and you are being melted from the inside out.

~~~

Shooting up out of bed, you grip your sheets in between shaky fingers, glancing around your head wildly, as if chasing away the ghosts of your dreams.

“There’s no fucking way that actually happened,” you murmur, quietly. Glancing over the side of your bed, you see Namjoon’s spot is empty and his sheets have been rolled up and put to the side neatly. “Thank God.”

From past experiences, you know you’re on the louder side when it comes to trysts between the sheets and nothing would make you want to fake your own death and relocate to Jeju more than having Namjoon overhear you having a sex dream about his two cluster-mates.

Rubbing your thighs together, you feel the seat of your underwear stick to your core uncomfortably and you let out a long whine.

“I need some dick,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything else.

“Did I hear someone say dick?” Young-mi sing-songs as she steps into your room, fresh-faced and dressed in her yoga gear, mat tucked under her arm. “Does this have anything to do with Nayeon’s friends all creaming themselves this morning, talking about a certain Kim Namjoon spending the night?”

You toss your pillow in her direction, which she skillfully avoids. “Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure?” She teases, moving to sit on the end of your bed. “He is super handsome.”

“It takes more than being handsome to get in between these thighs,” you reply, gesturing to your legs, spread under the sheets.

“Oh, yes, I forgot. He doesn’t have the stinking attitude to match your past lovers,” she sasses. “C’mon, YN. He’s good-looking and he looks like he’s packing a whopper in his shorts. They all do. And they pay attention to you. A lot of attention. Enough attention that even I would be hard-pressed to say no. So, tell me again how you haven’t thought about it?”

“I haven’t,” you lie. You have dreamt it instead. “They’re just really good friends to me.”

“I’m your best friend and even we’ve made out before,” she tells you, disbelief written clear on her face.

“What about you, huh? Why don’t you go for one of them?” You ask, pouting.

“I’d fuck them all seven-ways to Sunday,” she replies, face free of all embarrassment. “But to them, I don’t exist. You do.”

Throwing your pillow over your head, you groan. You complain, “This is so confusing.”

“Why? Namjoon is a sweet guy,” she says, rubbing your thigh, comfortingly. “Of all the choices, he isn’t the worst. He doesn’t even rank top-50 worst guys to date.”

“It’s not just him,” you whimper, moving the pillow but still covering your face with your hands. “I think- I don’t know. They’re all so nice to me, and I’m not used to that.”

Her eyes slowly grow big at your words, as she begins to understand your dilemma. “Bitch, you really are living in a young adult novel.”

“Shut up!”

“How about this? There’s a party this coming Friday,” she says, a suggestive lilt to her voice. She’s playing with the fraying edges of your blanket as she speaks, and her behavior makes you more suspicious of her proposal. “How about… we stop by? Just for a little while.”

Sitting up to cross your arms over your chest, you ask, brow raising, “Who’s going to be there?”

She continues to avoid your eyes as she mumbles, “Oh, you know… just some people…”

“Like…?”

“Like that cute-ass first year that I’ve been trying to bone since November,” she gushes, eyes crinkling in amusement. “She’s so pretty and tall. She boxes, YN. She has a back tattoo. I need to eat her out! Don’t laugh – this is serious!”

“We can go,” you tell her, wanting to help your friend get some action, even if you aren’t reaping the benefits. “Anything to get your plasdick wet.”

She squeals, wrapping you up in a big, warm hug and she says, “I’m going to ignore your crassness and simply say this – thank you, thank you, thank you, YN! You won’t regret it, I promise.”

You already do, but you don’t tell her that. She seems too excited for you to piss on her parade like that.

—

Some days later

Jimin is outside of your first class of ancient communication, resting the back of his head on the wall, looking as cool as anything in his leather jacket and freshly dyed hair. You feel the initial flutter of butterflies in your stomach at the first sight of him, but you don’t feel a touch of fear. In fact, all you feel is guilt over the last time you were together.

You were sure you had made him cry.

“Where did the pink go?” You ask by way of greeting, glancing up at the tuft of vibrant orange.

“You like it?” He shakes out his hair, before habitually brushing it back in place. His nails have been painted too, black and shiny. “Jin-hyung thought it’d go well with the outfit. Do you think so?”

He gives you a cursory spin, and you see how professors and students alike stop to admire his absolute beauty. Hiding the blush on your cheeks with your folders, you nod. “It does.”

“As long as you like it, I’m happy,” he sing-songs, reaching for your bag and books. “What class do you have next?”

“Nothing until four,” you tell him. “I hate early classes.”

He grimaces for you. “Me too. How about we get some dessert?”

“It’s eleven am, Jimin,” you mumble. He shoulders through the exit doors leading to the parking lot, before turning back to stare at you, not understanding. “Fine,” you concede with a huff. “But if I get diabetes, it’ll be your fault.”

“Nothing like that will ever happen to you, YN,” he says, boldly grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingertips. The sensation of his mouth on your skin makes you tingle all over. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Do your vampiric powers cover cavities or something? I certainly missed that section in Twilight,” you tease, sliding into his car. He flicks on the heating and lets out a chuckle of his own, eyes crinkling up into half-moons, the skin creasing, showing off the slight chip in the front of his tooth.

“Twilight is a crock of shit,” he says. “They get nothing right.”

“What did they get wrong?”

“We don’t sparkle in the sunlight. We aren’t mortal enemies with other supernaturals, especially not werewolves. We can eat, drink, fart, pee and poop just like humans can. We can’t have kids with humans,” he says, listing off on his fingers. “There’s a bunch more but that’ll come with time.”

Giggling to yourself, you change the question, intrigue bubbling in your gut. “What can you do?”

“We’re able to control our development, so if I wanted to, I could be this age forever, but once I make that choice, I can’t undo it. And, being 20 for eternity doesn’t sound like the best time, so we usually wait until we’re in our early 30s before we consider stopping the aging process.”

“What else?”

“We’re stronger and faster than humans. Smarter, too. Sorry,” he gives you a haughty smirk. “We’re impervious to most diseases and heal at a faster rate.”

You enquire, “What about when you want to have kids?”

“I was born this way,” he tells you with a quick glance. “My parents are both like me. Born. Our families are pure-blooded.”

Surprise colors your tone as you ask, “All of you were born as vampires?”

He nods, before giving you a smile filled with pearly white teeth. “Crazy, right?”

“The way you say it implies that there’s something other than being pure-blooded.”

He nods. “Half-bloods. It’s an archaic system, but that’s how we classify vampires who have been bitten and turned, rather than born, like us.”

“Is that… a bad thing?”

“Not bad,” he replies, licking his lips. “Just different. A born vampire will be stronger and faster, and sometimes they have… special abilities.”

“Special abilities? You have got to be kidding me now.”

He shakes his head. “Hoseok is one.”

“What?”

“He can manipulate memory,” he explains. “He never uses it, because it tires him out. He’s KO’d for the whole day if he does, but he can do it. We all have varying degrees of compulsion, but it doesn’t compare to his mind magic.”

“That’s… insane.”

He seems to agree. “It can be overwhelming at first, which is why we didn’t want to throw it all at you at once. But… we care for you. A lot. And we don’t want you going into this situation blind.”

Silence descends over the two of you as you digest his words, and before long, you’re pulling into the parking lot of the dessert place, and you spot a familiar car in the corner, glinting sharply under the early afternoon sun. Grasping at Jimin’s elbow, stalling the confidently-striding dancer’s movement, you ask, suddenly nervous, “Is… Is Jin here?”

Jimin nods, shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told the group that we were going for dessert, just so they wouldn’t worry if they didn’t see you around, and Jin-hyung, Yoongi-hyung and Jungkook wanted to see you. Is that…” He trails off, suddenly worried. “Did I overstep?”

“No, it’s fine,” you pause, exhaling softly. He stares down at you, fingers itching to touch you but he holds back. He can’t ruin this, he can’t go too fast. He has to wait. It has to be perfect. He holds the door open for you and ushers you inside and out of the cold. You continue, “I wanted to see you guys anyway.”

“You did?” He stops you with a cool hand on your elbow, echoing your actions from mere minutes ago. “You really mean that?”

He’s staring deep into your eyes, so deep in fact that it’s making your skin break out in gooseflesh. Unable to speak, you simply nod, and he pulls you into a deep, long hug. His sweet natural smell is so intoxicating that you feel your eyes close without your permission, tucking yourself further into his chest to get closer to the source of the aroma.

“I missed you so much, jagi,” he mumbles into your hair, lovingly. “I really was going crazy not being able to see you.”

You wrap your arms around his trim waist, for sake of them just hanging uselessly by your sides and find that latching into him is exactly where you want to be.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whines, rocking you gently from side to side. “’m sorry for lying to you, for keeping it from you. I’ll never lie to you again, as God is my witness I’ll-”

“If you’re done,” Yoongi mumbles, dryly, voice cutting the private moment sharply. “You aren’t the only one who has missed her, Jimin.”

The orange-haired boy pulls away from you, mortified.

“Yah! You got to see her during the break! If anyone should be upset, it’s me,” Jin growls, nudging the shorter man out of the way to envelop you in just as deep of a hug as Jimin. He smells so good that your knees buckle slightly in his grasp. Chuckling softly at your behavior, he whispers in your ear, “Does it feel that good that you can’t stay standing, petal?”

The nickname takes you straight back to your dream, his sultry words sliding across the expanse of your back as he presses into you, deeper and deeper still.

Jin’s nostrils flare slightly, an action that goes unseen by you and he feels his fangs drop at the flood of arousal that he smells wafting from your body. Fuck, he’s missed your scent. But this, this smell collects on the back of his tongue, flooding his senses with your deepest and most desperate essence. His knees buckle slightly, and his mind instantly conjures up the image of you, nude, hovering above his face, his hot tongue mere inches from where he wants to be the most: your warm, slick pink p-

Yoongi steps on his foot sharply, more affected by the combined arousal than his blank expression conveys. Shaking off the wave of adrenaline that is pumping through his body, Jin ushers you to the seat and sets Yoongi with a firm stare, one that the younger knows all too well, before letting the seriousness wash off him and Jin melts back into his bubbly, cheeky persona.

Warmly, you hug Jungkook, who nervously places his hands on your shoulders, refusing to let himself linger, no matter how much he wants to bury his face in your innermost corners. You find his awkwardness quite endearing and you want to pinch his puffy cheeks. Embracing the quiet blond, you feel the composer press a quick kiss to your temple, before giving your hand a quick squeeze. He asks, before you can question his sudden desire for skin-ship, “How’ve you been?”

“Better than before,” you admit, sitting down between Jin and Jimin. You level Yoongi with a sober stare and say, “Thank you. For everything.”

The blond shrugs, awkwardly staring off to the side, shifting his weight as if he doesn’t know where to put himself.

You assert, reaching for his thin, long fingers across the table, catching Yoongi’s gaze and holding it, “No, really. My Dad really likes you.”

He can’t help but let his chest puff up at your words. Yoongi feels a sense of pride, something the other guys could feel rolling off his body in waves. “That’s to be expected.”

“I can’t wait to meet your parents, YN,” Jimin cuts in, excitedly. He reaches for you, wanting your attention too. He says, confidently, “They’ll love me more than hyung, don’t you think?”

“It’s obvious that it’ll be me that will be their favorite,” Jin declares, hotly.

Jungkook snorts. “Whatever, hyung. Who can say no to this face?”

He cups his chin with big hands and sends you a cheesy wink.

Nodding in agreement, you lean over to copy his gesture and repeat, “Who can say no to this face?”

The two of you simultaneously turn to the eldest and bat your eyelids, adorably. Jin’s cheeks pink slightly at the sight of the two of you and he grumbles, “You’re both going to be the death of me.”

“Is that even possible?” You sass, playfully.

Jin simply tugs at a wayward curl of yours in response.

“We can, technically, be killed,” Yoongi says, quietly. The table quietens with him, mode turning somber. “But, there’s a whole host of things that have to happen for it to be effective.”

“What? Like silver crafted into a perfectly symmetrical blade, forged under the light of a full moon, by the hands of the village virgin?” You tease with a roll of your eyes.

The four of them freeze, simultaneously shooting you shocked glances, mouths parted slightly in surprise.

Jungkook mumbles, “How… How did you know?”

Mouth nearly falling open, you gasp, “Are you kidding me?”

Yoongi breaks first, bursting into laughter, followed by Jimin and Jin. Jungkook hides his face in the dancer’s shoulder, unable to stop the jerking motion of his body as he laughs.

“You should’ve seen your face, noona!”

“Shut it!” You groan, cheeks burning, hotly. “I was thinking of the craziest thing I could think of.”

“You can tell you like to read fantasy books,” Jimin remarks, amusedly. He taps the tip of your nose, affectionately. “Namjoon has been spending too much time with you.”

“Not enough, honestly,” you grumble. “We haven’t had a library date for ages.”

“Date?” Jin repeats, a challenging quirk to his brow. "That’s new.”

You stutter, ears burning, “T-That’s what he calls them!”

“I’m sure he does, the sly dog,” Yoongi berates. “Why weren’t any of us invited to your little library dates?”

“Do you guys even like to read?”

Jimin and Jungkook’s cheeks puff up in upset. “We read!”

“Comics don’t count,” Jin ribs the pair.

“Technically, they do,” you correct. “Literature comes in all forms.”

“Ah, don’t you start,” Jin complains. “We get enough of that from Joonie.”

“Joonie’s right,” you assert, reaching for Jimin’s hand and giving it a cursory squeeze. “Next time, I’ll tell you when we’re going okay? You can show me the comics you like.”

“Really?” He perks up, happily, at the idea. “Thank you, YN.”

“Enough talking, I’m hungry,” Yoongi complains, picking up a menu and sliding it across in your direction. “Choose what you’re craving.”

“I’ll take the waffles with honey and some raspberries in a cup,” you reply after some moments to peruse the menu’s contents.

Yoongi snorts at your peculiar request.

Jungkook mumbles, “She doesn’t like the cold and the warm touching, like me.”

You beam at him, finally happy to have someone who shares your specific taste. “Can I have an orange juice, too, please, Jinnie?”

Yoongi nods and Jin leans down to murmurs into your ear, “You can get anything you like, petal.”

Your cheeks redden instantly, and you stammer, ducking your head to hide you’re the splotches of embarrassment on your face, “What’s with that nickname?”

He ducks closer, practically with his lips pressed against the curve of your ear, and he whispers, softly, “Is it not to your tastes?”

“I- It’s… It’s just different,” you mumble, quietly. You feel as if your lungs are going to climb out of your throat, and the sensation only decreases once the handsome businessman reclines out of your space.

Jin gives you a warm smile before calling over a nearby waitress. He tells her the orders of the group, seemingly not needing to confer with the other boys, and you wonder how it is they can know each other so well.

“We’ve known each other since birth. Some of us have lived together for nearly half our lives. If I can’t get their orders right, what kind of hyung would I be?” He asks, tilting his head slightly. You didn’t even ask the question aloud, but he seems to have interpreted the expression on their face well.

Once the food arrives, you all dive in, eating happily. You do notice, though, that none of the boys ate anything until you’d taken your first bite, watching you carefully as you chew and swallow the sweet mouthful of soft, warm waffle.

You say, curiously, “You guys never told me your back-story.”

They share uneasy stares, making you feel suspicious, before Jungkook takes the lead, surprising you at his forwardness. “There isn’t much to tell, honestly. We were born into a special family. Our parents are in a coven together and our families all go back generations. All of us belong to the same main family, but because creatures like us form clusters, we are spread out all over the world.”

“What does that mean?”

“To put it simply, there’s one main family to which we plead allegiance to. The head of the family – currently being Namjoon’s mom – communicates directly with the High Court, who organizes and carries out our legal system. There can be hundreds of clusters within a coven, so we’re just one of many.”

You think for a moment before you say, “Namjoon’s mom is like… an area manager, and Namjoon is like… the owner of a store?”

Jimin giggles at your layman explanation before he replies, “More like, Joonie-hyung’s mom is a COO. Namjoon is the owner of a store that the main branch owns. But like… a big one, you know?”

You snort. “Why is there only seven of you?”

Jin replies, simply, “We don’t want anyone else.”

“Really?”

“If we wanted to,” Yoongi says, coolly. “We could have a cluster of over twenty different bodies. There are plenty of vampires on campus who want to join us.”

Your eyes bug out of your head. “Wait, wait, wait. There are more of you?”

Jin lets out an explosive laugh, and you’re enamored with the way his eyes crinkle at the sides when he does so. He says, bemusedly, “You thought we were the only supernatural people at our university? Petal, the campus is huge.”

“But still!”

They all laugh at your lack of forethought. Jungkook comments, putting his hand over yours and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, noona. Nobody would hurt you. You smell too much like us for you to be messed with by anyone with sense.”

You echo, brow puckering, “Smell?”

“We scent you,” Jimin explains. “Nothing weird or gross, so don’t feel that we’re invading your privacy. It’s just a natural exchange of scent so other supernaturals with sensitive noses can smell that we’ve laid claim.”

Rearing back to stare the orange-haired boy down, you ask, winding your neck back, “Claim?”

“It sounds offensive but in our community, it just means that you belong under our protection,” Jungkook hurries to explain, smiling apologetically. “Hyung didn’t mean to make it sound so caveman-like, I promise, noona.”

“When you wear our clothes or when we hug you, you are exchanging your smell with ours,” Yoongi moves to explain further. “It doesn’t just go one way either. We smell like you, too.”

That makes you feel minutely better, surprisingly, and they can tell.

You ask, quirking a brow in challenge, “So, after figuratively peeing on me to mark your territory, what does that mean for me?”

“You’ve been told about the fact that we consider you part of our cluster, right?” Jin asks. When you nod, he continues, “Well, to put it simply, we’ve begun a fledgling bond with you. Nothing will happen to you, but on a pheromonic and hormonal level, we’ve started to merge our scents, to bring you closer to our coven. We would… eventually want you to join us, but that doesn’t have to be now… Or, ever. There’s no compulsion with this.”

“There can’t be,” Yoongi says, slowly. He’s picking at the remnants of the banana split that Jimin was given, having long finished his own serving of tiramisu. “We can’t force you to Pledge. That has to come completely from your own free will.”

“What does it mean, to Pledge?”

“That’ll come later, princess,” Yoongi says, a soft uplift to his lips. He licks some cream from his lower lip, making your core thrum with heat at the sight, before he continues, “We don’t want to scare you off so early.”

“It’s best if that comes more naturally, noona,” Jungkook says, sucking on his thumb where some chocolate sauce had been smeared. A pink tongue works around the digit slowly, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks up the sweet sauce. You think you must be going crazy. You rub your thighs together at the sight, missing the way Jin digs his sharp nails into the meat of his thigh to keep his urges at bay. The other two aren’t fairing much better, Jimin having to pinch himself to keep his head in the game and Yoongi doesn’t think he’s turned half-mast so fast in his life. “Joonie-hyung will explain as the time is right, we promise.”

After shaking off the longing coiling around his spine, Jin grabs for your hand, with as much tenderness that he can manage and catches your eye as you gear up to argue. “Do you trust us?”

The other three wait in bated breath, stares practically searing into your flesh, waiting for your answer.

“Yes.”

Jin relaxes a touch. “Then, we can wait until the time is right. We wouldn’t do anything that would compromise your faith in us again. Honest.”

Exhaling, softly, you concede with a nod. “Fine. But, can I have some of that crepe? It looks good.”

“You can have whatever you like, petal.”

You completely missed the look of hunger that passed over his eyes as he watches you nibble on his food, fingers absently playing in some of your curls, imagining how perfect you would look with his fist twisted in your hair and contorting your body to fit his desires.

- end -

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18)

mafia bts x stripper yn; hybrid universe

Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear in the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.

What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?

What happens when you find you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?

Masterlist  /  i don’t have a tag list  /  find me on twitter  /  word count: 2.9k

(yandere / angst / gore / fluff / smut / violence)

Chapter 6 ‘Lusting’

Walking up the last day of your heat, your entire body ached. You crack open an eye and hear the carefree sounds of outsideand it all just felt hateful to you.

You wipe the dried tears from the side of your face and stretch out lazily on your bed, feeling the vertebrae in your spine crack and pop as you move.

As you stretch, your hand knocks into of of the overworked dildos that you had fallen asleep gripping with every fiber of strength you had in your body. Self-pity floods your system as you roll over into a fetal position and contemplate masturbating one last time before you start your day. You don’t feel the feral urge to orgasm around something thick and pulsing, but the tendrils of lust still lick at the base of your spine so you fall into your desires and let your wrist do the work.

The same images that carried you through the last three days flick before your eyes. Strong, tattooed hands working up and down your spine, gripping your hair at the root, twisting around your hair in an unyielding hold. Warmth blossoming along your neck as his mouth works against your flesh, teeth teasing lightly, as if he were letting you know how easy it would be to bite into you.

Another, smaller pair of hands wrap around your throat and force your hips up, bowing your spine in a lovely ‘c’ shape. Soft words whispered against the shells of your ears, puffs of hot breath make you shiver as waves from the vibrations pumping into your body force you to twitch and write and grind your ass into the sheets, half of you yearning for more and the other half drawing away from the overstimulation.

Pretty girl.

Good girl.

You can take it.

You want more?

Who do you belong to? You belong to me, right? Say it, Pretty.

Is it mine? Is it ours?

How about here? You want me here too? You’re so greedy, YN.

Spread your legs. More. More.

I’m gonna come in here, make you all sloppy and messy. You’d like that, right? How about Hyung? Can he come inside after me, too?

Don’t close your eyes, I want you to see how deep you can take  us.

Open your mouth. Show me how much of a slut you are.

Wider, Pretty. I can’t fit. Do you need some help or something? Here, lift your chin, Pretty. Tongue out… Further. That’s good.

Take him deeper. Don’t choke. Breathe through it. You’re doing so good.

Are you gonna let him come in your throat?

Don’t cry. Or, maybe do. I kinda like it.

You don’t know how good you feel inside.

You’re so fucking sexy, I’m going crazy.

“Oh-Fuck,Jungkook- J-Jungkook. Ugh,” you groan, thrusting the vibrating dildo faster into your weeping hole, biting your pillow between your teeth. “Jimin- Oh my god…I want it. I w-want- Ah, ah! I’m c-c-cumming.”

You leak around the dildo, staining your sheets as a flood of liquid rushes out of your body, toes curling and your eyes crossing as you tremble and whine.

Heavily breathing, you toss the slick instrument off to the side and wipe your hand on the soiled sheets. You were going to do laundry later anyway. But, for now, you felt dizzy and thoroughly drained of energy, but you can’t sleep. You slept more than the average hibernating bear over the last three days. You don’t want to sleep any more than you already have.

You grab your phone from your bedside table to see if you had any more texts from Jimin, who had kept his promise to text you infrequently throughout your heat. He didn’t overbear you with a need for a response, but whenever you did reply, he always got back to you within an hour.

It felt nice.

Check your front door.

He had sent it twenty minutes ago.

It fills you with warmth, a happy little smile working its way onto your face.

The omega in you feels cared for, so happy that an alpha was providing for you during your heat. It wasn’t smart in the long-run - it often led to miscommunications between alpha-omega pairs who haven’t clarified their relationship. The omega gets the wrong impression and subconsciously begins to view the alpha as theirsand that isn’t good for anyone. It can lead to bond-rejection sickness and that could cause lasting emotional damage on either side, usually for the party that instigated the bond in the first place (i.e the omega). The last thing you wanted to do was presume anything about his behavior during your heat to be anything more than just him acting out of concern for the omega who had latched onto his pack-mate.

The thought makes you a little sad, but it was better than the embarrassing alternative.

You crack open the door and see the wrapped take-out on the floor, as it had been three times a day since you locked yourself up at home. You had made a passing comment about not feeling up to cooking for yourself, and an hour later, there was food at your door with a small note written in Jimin’s pretty scrawl. You expected sharper-looking handwriting to match his feisty personality, but his lettering was rounder, more personable, and there was even a small emoticon at the bottom. A smiling face.

A lapse in thought had you sticking the note onto your refrigerator after taking a deep, long sniff of his scent latched onto the card, as you did with each one that you found in the bags.

(You almost broke your fingers with how fast you ended up back in bed, hands in your underwear, rubbing at your bud, as his scent triggered a new wave of heat.)

(You could never say it aloud, though. That such a big-headed cocky alpha turned you into a throbbing mess in mere seconds.)

You weren’t sure where he got your address from, but when you confronted him about it in one of your rare bouts of lucidity, he said he had it from the employee files in the office.

While something tingled in the back of your mind, you ignore it, too exhausted, too drained from your heat to really pay it much mind. Instead, you mindlessly throw the food in the microwave, stomach growling as a hole opened in the bottom of your tummy as you realize just how ravenously hungry you are. After five minutes, you throw yourself onto the couch and flick on the TV, channel-searching for a little while before something catches your attention.

“Much of the research that has been done over the last 80 years into alpha-beta-omega hybrid dynamics have circled around the social and sexual behaviors of alpha-omega pairs. There has been significant scientific suggestion of a strong causal association between platonic ‘pack’ relationships amongst A/B/O persons and health and longevity. Some social scientists imply that alpha-centric collectives may be the new frontier for hybrid social relations.”

Instantly, you call to mind Jungkook and Jimin. They both have implied that their packs are bigger than just the two of them, and you never got any scent of Betas or Omegas - the thought of the last filling you with something dark and unhappy that you didn’t want to label.

“Historically, alphas have been said to have been the strongest, most powerful classification type, occupying the typical protector/provider title of the pack. They are the heads of the pack, the leaders and the ones who have most of the responsibility for the safety of their dependents. Betas, who make up the largest population group of the three classifications, are the gatherers of the pack. Omegas, who make up less than 4% of the general hybrid population, are the most emotionally dependent, the child-bearer/rearer and the leader of the domestic sphere.”

“Betas have no sensitivity to pheromones released by alphas and omegas, although there has been some suggestion that compulsion can be sensed by betas from alphas who have a very strong ‘compulsion’.”

“‘Compulsion’ is just as the word suggests. Alphas have an innate ability to force their ‘will’ upon weaker hybrids, especially ‘super-Alphas’ (a new term coined by lead hybrid dynamic social-scientist and Alpha, Dr Jennie Kim). Super-alphas are almost entirely apex-predators with an irresistible presence.”

Super-alphas. You almost laugh at the term. What could possibly separate a regular alpha from a ‘super-alpha’? You think back to the times where you were around Jungkook, the warm way he handled you, the softness in his eyes whenever he looks at you. Then, you think about Jimin, and that first interaction that you had with him - the pressure that weighed down on your shoulders, the way he swaggered around without a care in the world, the wave of nausea that crashed over your head.

You suppose that maybe there might be something there.

“As of the start of the year, there is said to be up to two hundred registered single-classification packs. Alpha who bond with Alphas. Betas who bond with Betas. Omegas who bond with only other Omegas. Although the dynamics are different to the traditional A/B/O pack collective, the feelings that are generated amongst the pack bonds are just as important and as influential. It has long been suggested that single-classification packs are unstable, however recent research implies that that assumption is baseless.”

“Yes, the sex dynamics are different. The pheromones that are released during ruts/heats respectively cannot be found naturally, so the creation of synthetic pheromone medication has become incredibly popular within the last two years.”

You shoot a glance at your bathroom where you had your untouched stock of synthetic cologne that you used to help you through your heat. It didn’t smell all the way real but it made the blistering heat in your head calm only slightly. There was a significant absence of a hot body on top of your own, weighing you down. There were no hands touching you as if they owned you. There were no lips at your ear, whispering filthy words to you as you crest and climax, helplessly.

So, in one way, it made heats a little easier, it made coming easier because your imagination could run a little wilder. But in another, it was unbearable. It made the experience entirely unsatisfying and left you with an empty feeling that lasted for days even after your heat had finished. Plus, you had read somewhere that there was a risk of becoming scent-blind if used counterfeit versions too heavily and that was enough to put you off it completely.

“Without the crutch of a dependent omega to pour their provident instincts into, and being surrounded by equally as self-reliant alphas, the innate desire to dominate would become too intense to control, leading to an extended feral episode.

This feral episode would only further be compounded by the presence of other alphas within the same pack. Emotionally close, due to their bonded nature, but too similar in classification to be able to depress the tension built over time, the other alphas within the pack could be exposed to the errant pheromones.”

You wonder, idly, if there had ever been conflict between Jungkook’s pack. The idea makes your heart ache.

“A multitude of issues surrounding concepts of tensions, in-fighting, feral episodes, rut/heat, hierarchal respect, instinct and sexual domination are very controversial aspects that lead to multi-faceted conversations. These potentially critical consequences have been used as justifications for the opposition to the establishment of omega-less packs across the country.”

“Seeing an alpha-alpha pair has become more normalized over time. Some social groups have protested and shown dissent towards alternative pack dynamics, labelling the deviation as unnatural, however social scientists simply ask for respect and tolerance for new orientations and platonic/romantic relationships amongst hybrid groups.”

The mini-documentary goes on to discuss the sex politics between alphas in graphic detail, enough to make your imagination spark up once more and you end up touching yourself one last time before the last of your heat leaves you. Honestly, the urges weren’t strong enough to justify it, but the continued mentioning of knots and rut and slick and dominating kept bringing Jungkook’s face to mind.

You wondered how big his knot might be. If it was thick. If it would leave you unable to move even an inch. The smell of him lasting on your for days. The feeling of his teeth piercing your neck to mark you as his own. Being unable to shift without his permission. To have his heavy weight on your back and holding you in place as he had his way with you.

It was irresistible.

The day finishes without much else happening and you finally get to leave to go back to work at the library the following day. You aren’t allowed at the club for another two days because your scent was tinged with heat-sweetness and might be enticing enough to trigger some of your creepier clientele or even provoke an early heat amongst staff.

You find yourself welcomed back with a loving hug and a small baggie of chocolate eclairs that your boss’ partner had made too much of over your week away.

Because you might have been a little weak, your boss let you spend your shift just relocating the appropriate books in the new children’s library - your pet project - and decorate the small area with any materials the library had in the back offices, also known as the tombs.

You were in the middle of hand-stitching some coral reefs made up of colorful felt material when your phone pings.

You aren’t at home?

Confused, you push your curls out of your face, having taken down your braids the last few hours of your quarantined heat at home. I’m at work.

Your phone pings a series of times, the sound relentless and drawing a frustrated sound out of your throat.

Are you crazy?

You’re in heat!

Go home.

You reply, a fluttering of something in your tummy at his apparent concern, I’m in the middle of something. Stop distracting me.

Jimin retorts, and even though there aren’t any caps lock letters, you feel like he’s angry, You shouldn’t be at the club.

Go the fuck home before I call Rocky and kick his fucking ass.

You respond, rolling your eyes at his attitude, I’m not at the club. I’m at the library.

A pause, as if he were catching himself, before he answers, Oh, I forgot you were a nerd’s walking wet-dream.

It wasn’t an apology. You feel like those are a dime-a-dozen to get out of the tabby-hybrid.

Then, another question: What time do you finish?

Your expression dims, instantly. No.

You can almost see the huff on his face. I didn’t even get to ask.

With a scoff, you retort, I don’t want to hear it.

Then, you continue, feeling the need to explain yourself somewhat, You helped me during my heat. Thank you for that. But we don’t need to keep texting.

He enquires, Why?

You counter, as if it’s the only answer in the world that makes sense: You’re my boss.

Technically I’m your boss’ boss’ boss.

With a scowl, you question, Do you ever… stop?

Never. Just ask my husband.

You aren’t even surprised by his lecherous response at this point. I don’t even know why we’re still talking.

You balance your phone on the top of a pile of Disney storybooks, peeking a glance every few minutes, annoyed at how eager you were for his response, which comes in quickly. Come on, Pretty. Let me drive you home. Jungkook won’t stop whining. And I haven’t seen your face in a while.

You take this opportunity to gloat a little, not really flirting as much as you were teasing. So, what? You miss me or something?

He acknowledges, simply: Or something.

You state, firmly, You can’t pick me up. I shouldn’t be around alphas.

Jimin recounts, simply, I’m bonded.

I’m not.

Jimin’s smirk flashes in your mind’s eye as you receive his answering message, You think you might fall for me, Pretty?

Go to hell.

Jimin answers,Ouch.

Then, some moments later, your phone pings. Fine. Take a cab home instead of the subway.

How do you know I take the subway?

Jimin asks, adding a sarcastic emoticon on the end, You have a car that I didn’t see?

Touche.

Your phone pings one last time, but it wasn’t a text message. instead, it was a deposit into your mobile payment app with a short message attached.

Take the fucking cab, YN.

You don’t reply, but you can’t stop yourself from grinning, brightly. There was no legal way to explain how Jimin has your information, but something is telling you that there were things that this man, that the men he was connected with, could do that would take your breath away.

Now, you were still trying to decide whether or not that was a good thing.

- end -

Types Of Lipglosses They Like

genre: fluff, sorta suggestive?

pairing(s): bts ot7 x reader (separately)

warnings: kisses, slightly suggestive in Namjoons? and Jungkooks?

word count: 497

{Kim Seokjin}

• I feel like he would adore a nice clear gloss
• Or a slightly red tinted one
• I think he would also buy them for you
• He would sit you in his lap and help you apply it
• While also sneaking a few kisses here and there
• Then would have you put some on him
• Because hello
• Those lips??
• Would look gorgeous in some gloss

{Min Yoongi}

• Maybe a more subtle one
• Like a clear or pinky tone one
• You know the ones with flowers in them?
• I think he would get the for you
• Just for decorating your desk
• Or you can wear them
• I think he would watch you apply it
• But not really help you know?
• I think if you offered some he might use it
• And then tease you about how the indirect kiss should become a real one

{Jung Hoseok}

• He gives me gold/yellow and a metallic gloss vibe
• Though he would get disappointed when he realizes that he can’t kiss you without messing it up
• I think he would enthusiastically let you put some on his lips
• Just because he likes having you close to him
• And seeing your face up close
• It’s a win-win for everyone

{Kim Namjoon}

• I don’t think he has a certain preference
• He just likes anything because it’s you ‍♀️
• Though if he did have a preference
• It would be a non scented gloss with a cooler tone
• He would watch you put it on and then proceed to line your lips with his fingers
• He doesn’t care if he gets it on him
• Just wants to see flustered and putting it on again

{Park Jimin}

• I think he’s more of a lip oil type guy
• Lipgloss is just too sticky
• And he can not go more than 3 hours without kisses
• Plus the lip oils I’ve used have had moisturizer in it
• So you get a nice sheen and non chapped lips
• While he gets to kiss you with it sticking everywhere and some moisturizer as well
• Another Win-Win

{Kim Taehyung}

• I honestly don’t think he cares
• Like Namjoon has a preference at least
• But he genuinely doesn’t care what color, type or if there’s a design
• He might say it’s cute but that’s it
• I also think he would buy any and every lip product he comes across
• He might have a preference towards ones with ‘lighter’ scents instead of the ‘heavier’ ones
• Like a not noticeable vanilla to a strong lemon
• He would carry some around with him just in case you need it

{Jeon Jungkook}

• Doesn’t like it
• He might like to see you apply it but that’s it
• When your at home he needs to be kissing you every 30 or so minutes
• Lip gloss is just to sticky
• He might compromise on a lip oil
• But be warned
• His kisses will end up taking it off
• Especially if it’s those ones that have a slight flavor to them

Anomalous Fate - The Concert

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for waiting, I find that longer chapter’s take me longer to finish bc I get writer’s block a lot, soooo to fix that, I will be making each chapter shorter so hopefully that will mean more updates. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I am still learning to write stories so in the future I hope the writing will get better as well !

I changed their setlist because this takes place in PTD on Stage era, so I’m sorry if I don’t bring up anything about the pandemic, however, the reason I bring it up is because I need to change the setlist a little bit, that’s all.

Let me know if you liked this style of writing and I’ll continue to write my chapters like this if you’d like :)

“It’s on my shirt!” Y/N yells and playfully whacks her friend, Jasmine giggles from the doorway, “We told you to wear an ugly shirt, not one you bought a week ago.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at her in the mirror, scooping the glob of hair dye off with a paper towel.

Kristie rolls her eyes and laughs, “We’re almost done you big baby, then you can just let it process for 20 minutes.”

“Should we make tiktoks while we wait?” Jasmine pipes up and Y/N shrieks, “Not like this!”

“Listen, if J-Hope isn’t your soulmate, can I be?” Kristie states, looking at your now dry and styled hair.

“Girl seriously, you look amazing, even if you aren’t his soulmate, I’m sure they’d be staring anyways.” Jasmine smiles.

Y/N brushed her fingers through her hair and smiled at herself, she found herself quite excited for tomorrow.

“Y/N, let’s go!” Jasmine yelled excitedly, practically jumping at the door.

“I’m coming!!” Y/N squealed, patting her new hair down before placing the hat on top, “Hurry Y/N, Kris is already in the Uber.” Jasmine pulls Y/N by her wrist and both girls run out with huge smiles

As each girl got comfortable in the car, Jasmine squealed once again, unable to contain her excitement, “I can’t believe we’re actually going to see BTS!” Her older friends nodded, “Finally!”

“I can’t wait, I’m so excited!” Kristie clapped, “Okay, you know the fan chants, right?”

“Here, our seats are right here.” Y/N guides her friends toward their respective seats and they each put the merch they bought on the floor, making sure everything was okay.

As they waited for the concert to start, they chatted with other ARMY, making new friends, and seeing a few familiar faces.

“Okay, okay, it starts in like five minutes, ah, I’m nervous but excited, I can’t believe we’re here!” Kristie shouts, turning back around to face the front.

“I know, we’re so close too!” Y/N jumps a little, moving to her hat off, and just as they take out their phones, the lights in the theatre lower a bit, and each fan in the audience screams when the melody of ON plays, and a few seconds later, Jimin comes on stage and begins his part, and as Y/N looks through the lens of her camera, her eyes widen, and she tightens the grip around her phone, a quiet gasp leaving her mouth.

Her army bomb drops to the floor as her eyes land on the string that slowly appears straight across, up on stage, and connected right to Jimin’s pinky.

She’s frozen as she looks at him, unmoving and breathing shaky, even as he runs to the left of the stage, making way for Taehyung and RM.

Jasmine looks toward her friends but frowns at Y/N’s state, she nudges Kristie and they both lean in, “Y/N, you okay?”

Y/N points to the stage, “He’s my…our string…Jimin.” She looks at her friends with panic and as the two girls look at the stage, Jimin and Jungkook are coming back on, and Kristie furrows her brows, “Your string?” Y/N nods, “Jimin has the same one, like, we’re, he’s, our string is connected.”

“But his hair, it’s not the same…” Kristie reminds, and all three girls stare at the boys, until all of them come on, and Hobi appears, with the same exact hair as Y/N.

Jasmine’s jaw drops, “No fucking way, so you have two?!”

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief, “There’s no fucking way.”

As they continue to watch the boys dance with anxious hearts, ON comes to an end and just as Y/N was slightly calmed, Fire plays and she immediately brings her gaze down to her wrist.

She hears Yoongi sing the first line and he quickly makes eye contact with her as he moves to his next position, and she feels a pulling in her chest, her wrist suddenly very itchy.

“Oh shit…”

Yoongi stumbles before staring straight ahead, his wrist unbelievably itchy, and as he scratches it, Namjoon looks over and raises a brow, as if to ask if all was good.

Yoongi nods, trying to get through the rest of the song, but he knows it’s obvious how much he’s scratching at his wrist. ‘Fuck’

Each boy runs off stage to quickly change for the next song, and Yoongi barges into the dressing room, pacing back and forth, his members look up at him in confusion, asking if he’s alright.

“My soulmate, she’s here.” He speaks and everyone in the room pauses, waiting for someone to say something.

“That’s great news, but right now there’s nothing we can do, we have a concert to pull off.” Namjoon reminds, slowly standing and patting Yoongi on the back, “I can’t just not do anything, what am I to do after the concert? Let her go?” Yoongi says sternly.

They rack their brains to figure something out until Namjoon nods at the security, turning to ask Yoongi, “Which row was she in?”

Yoongi puffs out a breath, “It looks like she was in the third row, to our left of the stage, wearing a white shirt, I think she’s with two friends, but I didn’t really pay attention.”

Their security was out the door after, making sure to stand near that row to hopefully catch her on her way out.

“Third row to the left of us?” Hoseok inputs, cockily buttoning up his shirt, “You mean the one with black and blue hair?”

“Y/N oh my gosh, you have three soulmates, and they’re BTS members.” Jasmine spoke in a hushed tone.

“I can’t believe it, maybe you have more than three in BTS!” Kristie says excitedly and Y/N shushes her, “I’m not about to be called crazy here, shhh! And how would we even know?”

“What are your other ties?”

“Not on my forehead!” Y/N shouts and Kristie huffs, “It needs to be somewhere obvious.”

“On my forearm dude, on the outside!” Kristie settles for it and writes down, “Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

Y/N glances at it and gives her a look, and Kristie throws her arms up, “What? You want yourname written down?” Y/N’s eyes widen, and she quickly shakes her head.

“Let’s hope none of them are wearing long sleeves…”

The seven members of BTS begin their trek on stage as the beginning of Idol plays, and Namjoon quickly jumps in front to sing his line, each girl quickly taking notice that he’s the only one with a short sleeve shirt.

“Okay wait, I can’t do this, we’re supposed to be meeting them after the concert, and if three of seven BTS members are my soulmate, what happens then? They’ll probably turn me down anyway and I’ll be on my way home.” Y/N explains, but her friends shake their heads.

“There’s no way we’re going home after this Y/N, you’re meeting them either way, it’s BTS! We’re meeting them, period.” Kristie argues, but Y/N shakes her head, “You guys are meeting them, I’ll wait outside the room.”

As both girls are arguing, Jasmine is watching her favourite men on the planet, jumping around, and screaming the lyrics, screaming excitedly when Namjoon comes to their end of the stage and looks toward their row, but freezes when she sees his arm.

‘Bangtan Sonyeondan’

“Oh, my fucking god…GUYS???” She pushes Kristie and Y/N, who momentarily stop bickering to look at their youngest friend, following her line of vision to the stage, seeing Namjoon staring right back, holding his mic in his right arm, the same arm that Y/N wrote on.

Jungkook sees his hyung standing, and notices it might look a bit odd, so he jogs over and smoothly guides him to where he needs to be, “You alright hyung?”

Namjoon nods but hastily switches positions with Kook so he’s next to Yoongi, “Yoongi-hyung, you said white shirt, third row?”

Yoongi is confused but nods nonetheless, “Yea, why?”

Joon shakes his head and huffs a laugh, “She’s mine too.”

“We’re done here, let’s go.” Y/N panics, beginning to pick up her stuff. Her friends snatch her things, “Nu-uh, we’re staying Y/N, you wanted this remember?”

She groans, “I wanted to see if Hobi was, not the whole fucking band!!”

“Let’s go to the bathroom quickly, you need to calm down Y/N.” Kristie helps her friend, telling Jasmine she’s free to stay if she likes.

As Kristie and Y/N walk up the aisle, they failed to see a certain member stealing glances with a look of worry in his eyes, his vison following the string that tugs at his pinky.

“Look, this is fine Y/N, it’s just BTS.” Kristie leans against the wall while Y/N stares at herself in the mirror, “Oh yeah, just BTS, the world’s biggest group who has millions of fans that love them and I just so happen to have four members as my soulmates, it’s not like that’s not borderline greedy of me, one wasn’t enough, so I had to have four of seven.”

“Oh shit…” Kristie mumbles, suddenly remembering a very important detail that they didn’t take notice of, “You have five ties so far…”

“And?” Y/N huffs, Kristie shakes her head, “No Y/N, you have five ties, there’s seven members…four ties correlate to four members already…you don’t think…” The girls stare at each other, now both panicking.

Y/N could jump off a bridge.

Anomalous Fate: The Beginning

Hello ! :) First part of Anomalous Fate is here, and i really hope you enjoy this chapter. If you have any questions regarding the series or any of my others, feel free to ask away :)

Warnings: None

From the moment we are born, our fate is decided, and we are given ties that connect us to our soulmate. There are many different types of ties, and sometimes a single person will be given multiple, which is the case for Y/N.

When she was born, Y/N had the tie where a song title was written on her right wrist that would be playing when she meets her soulmate, and the red string tie that only she was able to see, tied right on her left pinky, she was also given a necklace, which by the looks of it, was a half of a compass, when she turned it around, it read, ‘no matter where-‘ and then it cut off, and finally, on her left wrist, the soulmate clock that tells you what time it is where your soulmate is, and her parents didn’t know what to think when her time read out, ‘9:46:31 PM KST,’

Unbeknownst to her, she had three more ties that determined her fate.

During her childhood, she had a couple friends who had multiple ties as well, she was happy that she wasn’t the only one who had multiple, and she bonded significantly with them as they could relate on more levels than with her other friends who only had one.

As she grew older, she was beginning to understand what her ties meant, and she caught herself staring at the clock on her left wrist, after learning the clock was in Korean Standard Time. She had never been to Korea before, and she was yet to find out if they came from North or South Korea. She also discovered another tie, and it was whatever hair colour her soulmate dyed theirs, she would have. And gosh do they ever change it up. Her hair is naturally brown, but one day she woke up with black hair, she panicked and did a quick google, calming once she learned its origin.

When she turned 15, she would start to wake with a new hair colour as the year progressed, nothing too crazy, just brown, black, red, back to black, and then back to brown. She thought maybe her soulmate was a bit indecisive.

When Y/N turned eighteen, and was soon to be graduating high school, her parents had gotten her a laptop as a gift, and she found herself in the classroom at school when her friends were out for lunch break, researching about the countries, and how they’re ties worked as well. She learned that she wouldn’t be able to see her soulmate’s red string until they meet in person, and that made her huff at how much ties she was given when she knew about her soulmate already.

She also woke up with newer hair colours, on the day of her birthday, it was orange, and after demanding her mom go to the store for her and coming back with the only colour left in the store, she dyed it purple the same day, however, she wasn’t really an expert so it turned out looking more pink, after that day, her hair was back to the usual three; brown, red, black.

While researching she noticed that the first thing to pop up when searching for Korea was KPOP, or more specifically, a group called BTS, and she felt a certain pull toward them that she couldn’t pinpoint. Now, like most ARMY, she only wanted to learn their names, but quickly became a little more obsessed as time went on, and soon she was always streaming their music, watching their interviews, and learning their choreo.

Y/N was 22 now, living in her apartment with her two childhood best friends who were also ARMY, attending school, and still without her soulmate. Her two best friends had met theirs, one of them, Kristie, had met hers 2 years ago while in a class, they’ve been together ever since. Her other best friend, Jasmine, had just recently met her soulmate in a coffee shop, talk about a meet cute, so Y/N was the only one left, yet she was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to meet her soulmate at all, seeing as they lived all the way across the world.

Although she didn’t glance at the clock on her wrist as much now, she did find it pretty cool that her soulmate was from Korea, and seemed to like BTS as well, considering the song that was written on her right wrist was the song, ‘Fire,’ she didn’t know why the universe chose that song and not a romantic song, it would have been so cute if her soulmate and her had met while listening to ‘Euphoria,’ but I mean, who was she to complain? Her soulmate was an ARMY, so at least they would have something to talk about when they finally meet, if they ever meet.

With all the ties she had been given, it never once crossed her mind that it could have been with different people, because while it’s common to have more than one tie, it’s considered very rare to have more than one romantic soulmate, and although she was a fan of BTS, she never compared the ties with them at all, because c’mon, they’re the biggest boyband in the world, there’s no way she was any of their soulmates.

Bangtan on the other hand, managed to hide their ties. They kind of had to, being in the limelight. Each member had two ties, one that connected them to each other, and the other who connected them to their lover.

Kim Seokjin was given the necklace tie, he used to wear it a lot before he was an idol, but after debuting, he began to keep it hidden in his bag, not wanting anyone to falsely replicate it and ruin his chances of finding his soulmate.

Min Yoongi was given the song tie, and he let out a deep sigh when he realized it was the same title as their very own song. He has the makeup artists cover it with makeup before they do press or performance. Over time, he finds himself tracing it, wondering if his soulmate is a fan or not, or if they even heard of the song before.

Jung Hoseok didn’t know of his tie until much later in his life. For a new concept, he decided to go orange, which in a way, matched the music video a lot, but after a few hours, he noticed it changed to a washed-out purple colour, to which he learned he had the hair colour tie. He was just glad the music video was already done shooting.

Kim Namjoon didn’t know at all what tie he had, he tried to figure it out, but nothing really happened. He was confused and often thought maybe he wasn’t given another soulmate, but with time he came to accept that the boys were all he needed, and it was best if he stays focussed on his career anyway, still, he couldn’t help but to wish upon every shooting star, that it grants him his wish of having a soulmate. Perhaps he should try drawing on his skin sometime…

Park Jimin was given the red string tie and he liked that he was the only one who could see it. Once he debuted, he found himself glancing at a lot of people’s pinkies, hoping to see one day his connected.

Kim Taehyung on the other hand, had the clock tie. He stared at it fondly while thinking about what his soulmate might have been doing at that exact time, maybe she was in school, or at home, maybe she worked? He looked down at it and it read 6:34 PM PST. He wore a lot of long sleeves to help hide his clock, but even if he didn’t, there’s no way someone would be able to replicate it in anyway, so he considered himself lucky.

Jeon Jungkook was more of the same as Namjoon, he didn’t know what his tie was, and he left it at that. He wanted one, but he had his hyungs with him, and they filled the hole that his lack of soulmate left him.

BTS had a lot of conversation regarding their soulmates, and they admitted a few times that they weren’t sure what to do if they ever met their soulmate, or if their soulmate would even like them. They had a lot of fears, scared to find someone who wasn’t their soulmate, to pretend they were. Or maybe never finding them because of what they do for a living. The other boys would reassure Namjoon and Jungkook, telling them that they had to have a mark, they just need to wait for it to develop.

As the years went on, and once their new hit Dynamite took off, they became too busy to think or talk about it, and soon the year went by fast and they released a new hit, Butter. It was Kristie and Jasmine who tried to convince Y/N that her soulmate could have been one of the BTS members, preferably J-Hope, as they always had the same hair colour, especially when the Butter video released, and Y/N’s hair was blonde during the same time they would have been working on it.

That was pretty much the only proof they had, and when the tannies released another hit, Permission to Dance, Y/N decided to dye her hair platinum blonde, and the girls were shocked when J-Hope came up in the Permission to Dance video, sporting the exact same hair colour.

Y/N had never really given it much thought before, and she felt silly sitting in front of the mirror, watching as Kristie put pink hair dye in her hair. A part of her liked the idea of J-Hope potentially being her soulmate, but another part of her felt indifferent. If he was, what did that mean for them? Would he even like her? Would he risk his career just to be with her? What if he didn’t even like the idea of a soulmate?

As the UN rolled around the next few days, Y/N’s hair was still pink, and it still came as a surprise when J-Hope’s hair matched hers, Jasmine also noticed Y/N’s clock changed as well, switching over to 11:23 AM EST, which just so happened to be New York’s exact time.

She tried to her best to shake the thoughts, not wanting to seem delulu, but to was hard not to confirm her suspicions with the amount of proof she had. Especially after it was announced that BTS would be doing the Permission to Dance: On Stage, in Los Angeles, she felt a certain pull toward the concert, and after finding out each tickets price, she immediately bought three online, texting her friends the great news.

All three girls jumped around in excitement, blasting Permission to Dance, and making plans for their concert. They would wake up early and take the day to make sure everything was perfect including their outfits, army bombs, money, gas, and food. The concert was at the YouTube theatre, three weeks from then, and the girls already couldn’t wait.

After much deliberation, it was settled that the day before the concert, Y/N would dye her hair black with two blue streaks on the underside of both her ears, it was a unique style, and that way they would see if J-Hope really is the one. She admitted that while she was curious to find out, she was still super excited to see her favourite band in person for the first time, from being twitter she has heard how great of an experience it is and just the thought alone made her squeal.

Y/N lived away from home, and has a younger sister, who lives with her parents in Florida. She met Kristie and Jasmine when they were all eight years old, and they had promised each other that they would always be in each other’s lives, even attending the same university. Each of the girls had many different aspirations, as well as different hobbies, something they did agree on however, was their love for the bangtan boys.

And most times, it was easy to forget about her ties, as she diverted her attention to her studies most of the time, she had two years to go before graduation, however Y/N considered continuing her education and getting her masters, but that was a decision she would make in time, and she often feels optimistic about her future. Although, no matter how bright the future looked for Y/N and her two friends, she was still upset about having to possibly one day live without them. After graduation, Kristie is moving to Chicago, and Jasmine hopes she will be taking internships back in her hometown of Washington. It would be a challenge for all three, having never lived alone before, now without each other in the picture, but again, it was something they should chat about in the future.

As Y/N lays in bed, she watches the clock on her wrist, it reads 4:56 PM KST, and she finds herself wondering if he’s at practice, or in his studio. Her phone dings, and she picks it up, nearly giving herself whiplash from how fast she sits up.

J-hope⭐ created a new post!

She’s never clicked faster in her life and when the photo loaded, she smiled to herself, seeing his hair was still pink but it slowly disappeared when she read the rough translations, ‘hm, concert hair? Blondie? Red? Surprises! :),’ It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put together that he was going to dye his hair for the concert, and she debated on actually dyeing her hair and possibly upsetting him, but after thinking about it, she smiled.

He did say it was going to be a surprise for ARMY, maybe now it will even be a surprise for him.

Types of Ties - anomalous fate

Hey everyone ! I’m glad to see the teaser has quite a few notes already, here is where i leave a little information about the different ties that are used in the story. Reader has seven ties, and all members of bangtan have 2 each.

i want to mention that this is sort of a yandere!bts fic..but again, it’s also like a crack fic, so it’s not that serious with like violence but it definitely shows bts as kidnappers..so yeah, it’s literally just a random fic i thought of on the spot so we’ll be seeing as it goes on.

But anyways, here are the ties:

ALL OF BTS: where the character’s world is grey, but each time you meet one of your platonic soulmates, a new colour is added into your life, until you see all colours.

KSJ – You are given one half of a necklace at birth, and your soulmate has the other half, when connected, they make a whole.

MYG - where you have a tattoo on your right wrist of the song you’ll hear when you meet your soulmate for the first time. It’s the same song tattooed on both soulmates.

JHS – When your soulmate dyes their hair, you get the same hair colour.

KNJ - When you write on your skin the same mark appears on the same place as your soulmates. Such as if you doodle on your skin your soulmates get those doodles on their skin.

PJM – Red string tie, a red strong tied on both soulmates” pinkies, only they can see but will only tell if it’s connected when meeting in person.

KTH- Your soulmate clock is telling you what time it is where your soulmate is currently at (could include AM/PM/time zones or not, for example 3:46:31 MDT).

JJK- The name of your soulmate appears on your skin after you meet them.

Anomalous Fate - Bangtan Sonyeondan COMING SOON

A Soulmate AU where everyone has different soulmate ties, and it’s possible to have more than one tie regarding your soulmate. Reader has seven ties thinking it’s tied to only one soulmate; soon comes to realize she has seven. BTS on the other hand, found out they were platonic soulmates when they debuted due to the fact they had the colour tie, which meant ‘each time you meet one of your platonic soulmates, a new colour is added into your life until you meet all of them and see all colours.’ And they found out they were given another tie that connects them to their romantic soulmate. It doesn’t cross their minds that they would be given the same soulmate to share, nor did they think she lived on the other side of the world. When reader attends her favourite bands concert for the first time, what happens when these eight souls meet? Well, a lot of chaos ensues.

Warnings: kidnapping? (if you really think about it), BTS aren’t the best at thinking situations through, confused and overwhelmed reader, shy reader but not the cringe mafia au kind, she just doesn’t talk at first bc hello?? she just got sorta kidnapped by her fave band ?? it’s not exactly what she wanted, kind of a crack!fic?