#reaction

WoW reaction GIF

For sure GIF

Whatever GIF

Excited GIF

Whatever Reaction GIFs

Whatever GIF

Scoups: “I wasn’t expecting this, but it is pretty damn amazing.” 

Jeonghan: “Yeah that’s right. My jagiya knows what her oppa likes and when he likes it.” 

Jun: “What a pleasant surprise this is. Junhui likes.” 

Woozi: “Oh jesus, what is this girl trying to do to me?” *freaks out*

Hoshi: “I don’t know whether to yell at her for doing this when I’m with my hyungs, or reward her for it.” 

Mingyu: *gif explains itself*

DK: “She really wants to do this now? No problem.”

Wonwoo: *doesn’t know what to think*

Joshua: “Aish, this girl is gonna get me in trouble.” 

~AdminC 

it’s real long and there’s blood mentions throughout the entire thing, obviously.

part one

—

Mornings at the apartment were downright mad when everyone gathered together under the roof of what seemed to be the smallest kitchen to ever be constructed. Seven people; three vampires, three half vampires and one human all bustling around in the compact space got crowded and started arguments when someone’s elbow jammed here or another person’s knee bumped into there. It wasn’t a true Kim family morning without unnecessarily loud quarrels.

The blame always fell on the humans; the twins, Hoseok and Seokjin. The four who obtained energy by consuming food found it necessary to fight over what would be for breakfast every single morning. Seokjin wanted pancakes, Hoseok wanted French toast, the twins wanted rice and fish, and there were never agreements met between them. Seokjin nearly always won, partly because he was the goddamn cook and he was going to whip up what he damn well wanted, thank you. Namjoon, Jungkook and Yoongi would already be patiently seated at the dining table, they were all forced to eat together (blame the human for his strange family traditions), and would watch the others bicker back and forth while slowly sipping on their thick refreshments of blood.

Today was barely different. The usual four were acting out their predictable scene of bellowing over each other, Namjoon, Jungkook and Yoongi perched in the hard wooden chairs a few feet away, two elders slurping red liquid into their mouths with the assistance of the thinly attached tubes. Jungkook decided he wasn’t particularly hungry and skipped out on his portion of blood, went for frowning at his lap for most of meal time, even when the twins began throwing their food back and forth and Seokjin knowingly squeezed at his knee beneath the table’s surface.

He was awake last night; felt Namjoon’s chest rumble the spot between his shoulder blades as he groaned, scrunched his face immediately at the lack of security, vanishing sense of protection as the vampire’s arm reluctantly slid from the dip of his waist when the barely audible blubbers of the youngest seeped through the thick walls of their bedroom, realized Namjoon probably heard them like Jungkook was right beside him crying directly into his ear. He repeatedly contemplated on if he should go in to help but then he’d remember how Jungkook felt small and childish and too babied if he or Namjoon got even the slightest bit parent-like towards him, knew Namjoon had it under control if the careful murmurs that replaced the weeping were anything to go by. He heard the faint bicker of the twins too, figured he could help there instead but the bed was significantly warmer with his frosty Demon gone and he found it difficult to slip away when it seemed so much easier to fall back to sleep instead. Jungkook was being eased and the twins fighting wasn’t anything new, so he was able to peacefully close his eyes and drift off to a land where he didn’t have five immortal children and a few millennium old roommate.

Seokjin leaves for work at the coffee shop just a bit after breakfast is finished; once his lavender-smelling sweater and crisply ironed pants are thrown on, once he makes sure Namjoon swears to take the twins for lunch because we don’t need our building catching fire because you tried to cook again Demon, once he’s satisfied with the annoyed expressions of Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin as he leaves sloppy smooches at the crown of all three of their foreheads while they’re squished together in a line on the couch, too concentrated on their video games to put up much of a fuss.

Namjoon pitched him a coat before he, along with Yoongi and Hoseok who were on their way to the gym, disappeared behind the elevator doors. Paranoia surged through him and he waited out in the smelly, dimly lit hallway and listened until the familiar sounds of glass mugs clinking against each other rang back into his ears as the cafe was set up.

When Namjoon spun to enter the apartment, his son was leaned against the threshold of the door, bundled up in a black pull over jacket and matching beanie, leader’s shoulders jerking in slight shock since his hearing was channeled to one place and left him unaware of his surroundings, therefore startled by Jungkook’s sneak up.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Jungkook steps out to stand with his father when his brothers kick up another argument behind him, hand quietly shutting the door with a twisted arm.

“She’s leaving,”

Namjoon takes a step forward, brings himself into Jungkook’s personal space and manages to make them both feel slightly uncomfortable when he tilts his head back and their faces are close enough to be considered inappropriate between a father and son.

“She,”

Namjoon could see into Jungkook’s mind, which was in shambles, chaotic jumbled thoughts unconfined and loose from their places because the simple thought of you had everything crumbling down in Jungkook’s world.

“Y/n,”

He says your name quietly, so delicately like he wasn’t worthy of speaking it out loud and if you heard him, you’d unleash the wrath from hell itself down upon him. Namjoon observes his body language, grows confused at the distressed, needy, helpless expression on his son’s face.

“Bunny,” Namjoon sighs and Jungkook glances to where he was weaving his fingers together; his tone didn’t sound promising. “Just… Remember to eat something. Don’t skip lunch too or your- Seokjin, he’ll kill me. Try to anyway.”

Namjoon himself could skip a feeding for a day or two, sometimes weeks then sometimes there’s months where he forgets to eat while trying to keep his household from falling apart, but he’d be damned if any of his kids missed even one of their three daily doses of enriched blood. Jungkook wasn’t feeling decent this morning and blood only would’ve made him feel worse, so Namjoon allowed for him to ditch his bag. But now, Jungkook was happier, sunrise depression long forgotten and he could feed without feeling like he could die, again.

Jungkook’s dull eyes flash a brilliant cerulean blue in excitement when he lifts his head at his father’s response. He easily nods, finding it hard to keep his happiness masked.

“Okay, I will-”

“You better. I mean it,”

Namjoon didn’t mean to be so stern all the time but it was the only way to get through to teenagers effectively, he learned that very quickly.

“Go,”

He reaches for the golden handle and Jungkook’s face at the same time, palm affectionately patting the younger’s cheek twice before the door is swung open and the leader enters the apartment.

Outside, Jungkook huddles beneath the safe shade of the building’s arch over the doors, away from the blazing sun that would have his skin bubbling after a few minutes of contact. He feels his chest explode when his eyes land upon your figure across the busy street, glimpses of you descending the stairs of your own apartment building flickering at him between the spaces of the passing cars. He couldn’t help but think about how adorable you were, dressed similarly casual like him in a hoodie and pair of sweats with unruly hair carelessly done, black rimmed pair of glasses perched on your nose. Jungkook could smell your sweet perfume from where he was stood, the supple scent riding the waves of the breeze that swirled into his nose and forced him to face the brick wall when his eyes went blue again with lust. He wanted nothing more than to nuzzle into the crook of your neck and smell you up close instead of from across the street, really hold you to his body with his hands instead of just dream about it.

On the other side of the road, you were stomping your heels and huffing the loose strands of your messy hair out of your face while you frustratingly dug into the dark confines of your bag. You had to push your glasses back up from where they slid down the bridge of your nose multiple times, only furthering your irritation. A forever long trip back up to the sixth floor of your apartment building, courtesy of the broken elevator, didn’t sound like a cup of tea and only sent your mood spiraling downwards until-

“Fucking finally,”

Your hand grips around your cellphone and you yank it out from the bottom of your pencils and notebooks and cases and scarf and everything else it decided to bury itself beneath to make your morning harder. You throw the strap back over your shoulder and continue on your journey to the coffee shop, your body easily fleeting between the traffic of passengers on the walkway while you dialed a familiar number.

“Hello, love,”

“Mark,”

You were seething angrily through your teeth, quietly under your breath as to not attract the attention of the others around you.

“Yes, baby. That is me,”

“Where the-“

You cut yourself off when your voice unintentionally gets louder, taking a glance around to double check no one could hear you before safely lowering your voice more.

“Where the fuck is my car,”

“Oh, did you need it?”

“Mark Tuan!”

Your frustration was becoming apparent and your boyfriend was laughing on the other end of the call.

“You have god damn super speed, I do not!”

“Baby, calm down,”

“I have so much shit to do today, it’s unbelievable,”

The scratch in your voice is whiny and makes you seem like you’re on the verge of tears as you pull on the handle of the shop, and your boyfriend sighs into your ear.

“Do you need the car back y/n? I can bring it to you,”

It was your turn to slowly breathe out, exhaustion weighing down your shoulders while you walk up to the counter and comb some fingers through the front of your hair to clear your vision of curled strays. You order something hot, large and strong to help with the bags beneath your eyes, smiling at the cute barista with defined muscles and a pretty face.

“No,”

You finally reply to Mark, swiveling on your heels to lean against the marbled edge of the flat top.

“I can just walk; it’s really not that big of a deal. You just have to tell me when you’re going to use my car next time Mark so I can get a head start on all the errands.”

“I will not take the car without your permission anymore love; I apologize for doing so,”

A frown adorns your face and the small flame of hope you had left diminishes with his distant tone.

“You’re not even paying attention,”

“Miss,”

You flip around and mouth a thank you at the boy, taking your warm cup and sliding him a few bills.

“Keep the change,”

His face brightens up and his thankful wave is the last thing you catch before you’re shuffling away with hands full, purse tucked under your arm, coffee in one hand and phone in the other.

“Mark, what the hell are you doing that you can’t talk to your girlfriend for five fucking minutes? Hello? Who are you with?”

“Love, I’ve got to call you back,”

“You better think twice before you hang up on me Mark Tuan,”

It was the second time you’ve said his full name and he knew that meant you were seriously upset and just wanted him to reassure you and calm you down before your day got any worse, but he had a situation on his hands. You are turning around to open the coffee house door with your lower back when he speaks.

“I’m sorry, I love you,”

“Mark!”

The dial tone reaches your ears and you gape in astonishment, not believing that he had actually ended the call with you. You grumble silent profanities at him, mapping out ways to kill him in your mind as you stomp your way out into the busy morning. One more step brings you in contact with the firm chest of an innocent man, a very tall innocent man. There’s sharp pain in your nose and there’s scalding liquid splashing through your hoodie and soaking your torso in burns. Your bag disappears, your phone flies and the awkward position of your feet has you falling to the sidewalk with each of your belongings.

“Fuck, are you alright?”

The man you glance up at has dark eyebrows that are turned down, soft looking pink lips pressed tight, eyes the color of your spilled drink drowning in concern flicking back and forth between your own.

“I um,”

His hand is outstretched for you and when you wrap your own around his, the yank away is inevitable with his palm the temperature of snow, icicles finding home in your veins. Your wide, knowing eyes go to his and suddenly you’re okay to help yourself up, heart skipping a few beats when you see his jacket, looking similar to your own.

“I-I’m sorry, holy shit, I’m so sorry. You’re all,”

You go to gesture to the mess you’ve made but his face distracts you, still scrunched up in mixed emotions.

“Um..”

“I asked if you were alright,”

He repeats himself and you can’t tell if the blush on your cheeks and neck is because of appreciation or fear.

“I’m fine I’m,”

Your eyes grow larger and you look down to search the sidewalk, knees quickly collapsing under you to bring you close enough to grab your phone. You flip it over and your face falls at the artistic cracks that tree branched over your screen, your finger delicately smoothing them over. Sadly enough, that wasn’t your biggest problem. You stuff your totaled phone into your bag and throw it over your shoulder when you stand up, facing the boy again after you grab your still thankfully intact glasses and slip them on.

“I’m really sorry again I,”

You bite your lip and his eyes are immediately on your mouth, hungrily taking in the sight of you rolling flesh between your teeth until it’s released and he’s forced to look away in embarrassment, hands scrambling to fix the beanie that was fine without adjustments.

“Can I take you to a laundry mat to clean your clothes? Maybe buy you a drink; I know I’m going to need a refill,”

You sensed the rejection even before he tried waving you off and shaking his head.

“Please. It will make me feel a lot better if I know I’m the one who cleaned them; the building is just around the corner. It’s the least I can do after running into you so roughly,”

“Really, it’s-“

“Great, let’s go,”

He’s shocked when you reach for his wrist, freezing under your tight grip but you ignore the familiar feeling to it and begin dragging him towards the closest cleaners you could remember off the top of your head. But then a thought enters your mind and you abruptly stop and turn to him, yelping when you’re met with the firm wall of his chest for the second time.

“Jungkook,”

You take a step back and look up, dropping his arm and letting it fall to his side.

“What?”

“My name,”

He confirms and your suspicious only grow about him but you slowly nod and recite yours back. After the uncomfortable exchange and listening to him quietly murmur your name a few times, you’re back to walking beside each other in silence. You learn quickly that he isn’t much of a talker, though neither are you, especially to people with intimidatingly handsome faces.

The heat wasn’t helping the strong stench of coffee weighing down your clothing as you made your way passed people and their judgmental stares. The uneasiness doesn’t lift from the air until you’ve both rounded the corner and the cleaning department comes into your view. Unconsciously, the both of you began to quicken your pace.

Jungkook’s arm stretches around you and beats your hand to the door, effortlessly pulling it open and gesturing you first. You thank him under your breath and duck inside the empty building quickly to avoid his notice of your pink cheeks, body weaving through the maze of washing machines and dryers with him trailing behind you. As you walk to the back, your nose catches onto the sharp stench of stinky bleach and the overwhelming perfume of mixed laundry detergents, from lavender to ocean breeze. You could’ve chosen any of the machines, given the place was vacant of anyone besides you, Jungkook and an elderly worker and all were available, but you pick the appliances closest to the vending machines and waiting tables.

You slowly lift up the lid and peek into the shiny tumbler before you fingered the hem of your coat and glanced at Jungkook.

“Is this one okay?”

He distractedly nods, eyes boring into the small sliver of skin you were revealing to him. Suddenly, you felt embarrassed to get undressed in front of a stranger, but you needed your jacket washed and you weren’t going to be the only one feeling exposed you hoped.

Upon realizing that you were a bit shy and hesitant, Jungkook steps forward and bends his arms over his shoulders to take fistfuls of the back of his hoodie. When he yanks on the material, dragging it up and over his head, his shirt gets caught on the inside but before you were able to catch a glimpse of the blindingly pale skin of his lower back, his hand is positioning his shirt back into place as he tosses his coat into the machine. Noticing his bed-infused mess of hair, you squat to pick up the beanie that had fallen off and drape it over the ledge of the machine in front of him.

“Thanks, your turn,”

He shoots you a sly smile and you puff air into your cheeks, sliding your purse off of your shoulder and prying it open to find some cash. Jungkook’s confused at the bills you shove into his hand, but you just hand him your purse and point behind you.

“Get us drinks and pick a seat? Uh, please,”

He stares down at you in amusement, completely sensing the insecurity washing over you and he nods, slides your purse on and maneuvers his way around towards the tables. You let out a breath and quickly rip off your soaking coat to toss into the washer. You scoop up the grains of laundry soap and dump them in, turn the dial until water is gushing out and you watch, mesmerized for a few seconds before you drop the lid and go to join Jungkook.

“Does this usually take a while?”

You smile sympathetically at him leaned up against the vending machine, arms crossed over his chest, and hope he doesn’t have to be anywhere anytime soon, pulling yourself out a chair to sit on.

“It’s not a necessarily fast process, the washing is about ten and then drying maybe another fifteen. Could be less since it’s not a full load you know? It’s only our jackets,”

Jungkook shrugs and you watch him push off of the drink dispenser and slowly drag his finger over the many buttons of choices, eyes locked on yours. It almost makes you choke, almost.

“What would you like?”

“Anything hot,”

You fold your arms over each other and lay your head down, a deep sigh escaping your lips. You keep your eyes closed and enjoy the darkness, basking in the loud heavy shake of your washing clothes and lemony smell of the clean table surface beneath you. You only look up when you feel warmth radiating next to your hand, groaning thankfully at the sight of a steaming drink placed in front of you. Your fingers close around the small cup, palms warming quickly while you raise the rim to your mouth and take a careful sip. Humming in satisfaction, your eyes peek over the edge at Jungkook leaning all of his weight onto his hands, curled around the sides of the vending machine while he scanned the soda options.

Under his form-fitting black shirt, you could see his shoulder blades bulging with his defined surrounding muscles, the arm holes looking about to rip at the seams at the abnormal yet beautiful size of his biceps. You tilt your head and wonder if he knows about the tear he had in his back pocket that was revealing the smallest patch of navy blue underwear.

One of his large hands swiftly blocks your view as if he had been listening in on your thoughts and it causes you to jump in surprise, eyes widening and fingers quickly tightening around your cup when it almost slips from your grip. You clear your throat and avert your eyes to the chipping paint on the wall instead, waiting for him to pick something and sit down across from you.

“So,”

You try to hide the fact that you were shamelessly staring at his ass less than thirty seconds before, knew it was written all over your face in permanent marker and knowing Jungkook could read you better than your own boyfriend was able didn’t make you fidget any less under his intense gaze.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen,”

His answer is fast; so fast it takes you a few extra seconds to comprehend that he had already replied.

“Right, okay,”

Your nails pick and pull at the ledge around your cup, peeling at the paper and uncurling it as a distraction.

“Do you live around here?”

When he doesn’t respond as quick, your eyes flick up to meet his heavy glare, the way his eyebrows were frowning giving off the impression of conflict inside his head. You could tell by his shiny eyes he was hiding something from you when he spoke simply.

“Somewhat,”

You decide not to pry and go with nodding, gulping down another drink. You’re scoping out the bright white of every small and big item in the space, skipping over the worker who was busying herself with a magazine straight into the old, dusty gaming area, scrunching your face up in disgust at the lack of wipe downs when Jungkook says something.

“Sorry, what?”

Your eyes are back on his and you couldn’t understand why it felt so familiar, why it felt like you stared into those same eyes every night.

“Do you?”

He repeats himself and he must notice that you’re confused because the cutest laugh you’ve ever heard come from a man tumbles from his plush lips and floats over the table into your ears.

“Live around here y/n, do you?”

Once he clarifies what he meant, you contemplate slapping yourself for forgetting about the conversation.

“Up the street, a few buildings down from the coffee shop,”

His tongue prods at the corner of his faint smile, his dark corneas glued onto yours as if he were in awe of you, unable to tear away or blink.

“Are you okay?”

You swipe your hand through his sight line but he doesn’t flinch, retracts his tongue and raises his eyebrows in questioning.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You like, dozed off,”

“Yes.. yes!”

You get startled when he raises his voice and there’s an unpleasant screeching as he abruptly shoves himself backward in his chair to stand up.

“Sorry um, I’ll switch our clothes to the dryer,”

“I don’t think..”

He’s gone before you could tell him they weren’t finished washing yet, your eyes landing upon his untouched can of Mt. Dew. You wait for him to return, watching his every move as he purposely avoids your gaze.

“Do you have family?”

“What?”

You could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn’t surprised by what you had asked, was expecting it to come sooner or later.

“Family, you said you were eighteen,”

“Right, uh,”

His arm is back to flexing when his fingers comb through black curls, stretching above his head to scratch the back of his neck.

“You don’t need to answer,”

You rub at the surface of the table, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way you were looking at him. He did, and you knew because he cleared his throat and had to look away, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists.

“It’s fine,”

He replies but doesn’t look back.

“My… family is pretty scattered,”

“Why did they leave?”

He finally looks at you and your cheeks flush of heat and color.

“Sorry,”

“No it’s, okay. They,”

He swallowed, carefully searching for the right words.

“My dad’s got quite a few kids, and we don’t all get along I guess? So a lot of my brothers and sisters took off when us youngers came,”

You push your empty cup away from you and fold your arms in a comfortable resting place for your head, blinking at him in interest.

“At the house now, there’s just me and a couple of my other brothers. My dad of course and his, I don’t even know what Seokjin is. He acts like such a mother sometimes, I suppose that’s what he can be,”

“You don’t have a mom?”

Your eyes widen with your rude question and you lift up, quickly shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry, that’s not what I,”

“It’s okay,”

He chuckles and waves you off and you slowly lower yourself back down to rest, embarrassed. Jungkook sucks on his bottom lip when he can’t find anything to say.

“None of us have a mom, I know that much. None of us ever knew her, about her, if she even existed in the first place. It’s always just been my dad and us, raising us all up by himself. Seokjin helps with that though, a lot. He cooks for us every day, he goes to work and spends every penny earned on us kids, he protects us, he treats us like we’re his own and I’m very grateful for him, immensely,”

“You’re the youngest?”

He nods.

“There’s me, then the twins, then Hoseok, then Yoongi. He’s the oldest and he’s the most grumpy but also the most protective. Hoseok is, he’s.. um,”

You giggle and Jungkook smiles at his lap.

“He’s happy, all the time. Very energetic and jumpy and just, loves everyone and everything. Really values life I guess. The twins, huh,”

“Identical?”

His eyes meet yours for the briefest moment and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Actually, no,”

You nod as best you could with your chin tucked between your elbow.

“They’re completely different when it comes to looks. Tae has blonde hair, Jimin has black. Jimin’s eyes are a different shape, Tae’s nose is more defined. Jimin’s short, Tae’s taller. Their appearance plays a huge part in their differences but they’re brothers you know, they don’t care about that, only the similarities matter. They’re also something, always arguing but it’s mostly just playful bickering back and forth between siblings,”

“Then there’s me, the baby,”

“And what are you like?”

Your eyes were closed, ears greedily capturing the smooth sound of his voice, the skillfully hidden affection wrapped around the words he spoke.

“I’m… quiet. Shy, anxious about everything, constantly worried about the small things, protective. I- sad?”

When you open your eyes at the sudden drop in playful joking, Jungkook’s frowning at you in shock. Before you can say anything, you’re startled by the loud buzzer of the dryer behind you, signaling the end of the cycle. Jungkook crosses his eyes and imitates the sound in a deep voice, bringing a smile to your face while he stands up to check your clothes.

—

Jungkook painfully itches at the irritation blooming along his body as he walks into the apartment, skin red and flaky from the blazing sun and poisoning lights at the laundry mat. He strips his coat at the door, kicks his shoes off and makes his way into the living room.

“Dad,”

His father offers a nod in greeting from his comfortable position in the loveseat, not tearing his eyes away from the screen of his laptop, perched on his lap as he typed away at the keyboard.

“You didn’t feed,”

It wasn’t a question but Jungkook took it that way, slumped down onto the couch and lets out a huge breath of relief.

“I couldn’t just drink a bag of blood in front of her, she thinks I’m human,”

“No, she doesn’t,”

Jungkook sighs and pouts.

“You read her mind far too many times, answered her questions too quickly. She suspected you weren’t like her. She’s been with someone of your kind, your brother, for how long? She knows the tells but she wasn’t scared of you,”

“I know Father,”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you still haven’t fed. You promised me,”

“I know, Father,”

Jungkook repeats himself gruffly, huffing his long bangs out of his eyes much like you had that morning. His ears tune into the fight happening in the kitchen, his face twisting and eyes flaring up blue when he hears his brother speak.

“I’ll eat now,”

He pushes himself up, shuffles out of the room and into the kitchen with no sure intention of feeding. He fumes with anger as he stealthily approaches the arguing twins who were stood in front of the ice box.

“At least my tummy isn’t so big that it has stretch marks on it, even your thighs have them-”

Before Taehyung could insult Jimin even further, Jungkook swipes his arm from his sides and twists it out of socket like it was an everyday task, the scream of agony that left his brother music to his ears.

“You were saying?”

Taehyung groans in response to the voice in his ear and Jungkook pulls at his arm further, feels it crack and thinks he would’ve torn it clean off if it wasn’t for the frightened look on Jimin’s face. He rolls his fading eyes and throws the injured boy to the tiled floor, carelessly steps over him and wraps his arm around Jimin’s waist in order to gently move him out of the way. When he’s pulling away to reach for the fridge’s handle, he makes sure his hand affectionately slides over the precious bump of a stomach his brother was so insecure about, gives his pudgy hip a brief, loving pinch before he’s gone with a blood bag in hand.

“And the point of breaking Taehyung’s arm was?”

Jungkook falls back into his previous position on the couch, teeth easily sinking into the corner of his plastic bag and tearing a hole for him to gulp down thick blood.

“Why do you let them argue like that,”

“They’re twins Jungkook, there isn’t a lot I can do,”

“He unnecessarily used Jimin’s insecurities against him-”

“Jimin taunted him about his darker skin-”

“I don’t care,”

Jungkook rises, wiping the slimy red from the corner of his lip as he circles around the couch, the annoyance radiating off of him so strong it catches the attention of his Father.

“Where are you going?”

“Room,”

Namjoon watches the teenager disappear down the hall, not questioning when Jimin appears in the doorway, longing after his younger brother with a frown. He spares Namjoon a short look before he’s trotting down the hallway and leaving the destination of his padding feet to his father’s imagination.

—

The sound of keys jingling outside of your front door has your eyes enlarging and your feet loudly slapping along the hard wood floor as they carry you to your bedroom. You hear the locks click and your boyfriend call out your name just as you spin your body behind the bathroom door and out of sight.

“Baby?”

You nibble on your bottom lip and hold your breath but not even a full second after you heard the front door firmly close, Mark’s smug face is in front of yours, smirk ripping a startled scream out of your throat.

“Found you, sweetheart,”

He shoves the door out of the way so he can slip his cold hands beneath your shirt, grip your waist and slide your back up the tiled wall. He dismisses the way you smack his shoulder and buries his face into your neck, groans deeply as he inhales the feminine scent of your body wash he loves so god damn much.

“Why were you hiding, love? Hmm? Didn’t think I would find you?”

Your nails are curling into the muscles of his back as his hovering lips raise a trail of goose bumps on a path to your ear.

“I could smell your blood in the elevator, hear your heart thumping as if I was laid upon your chest,”

He talks quietly, mentioning your heart and moving to sink his teeth into the exposed swell of your breast right above to feel your pulse on his lips. His moan when your fingers tangle themselves into his grimy hair trembles through your body and straight to your core.

“Mark,”

The sharp breath you suck in when his wet tongue swipes beneath the cup of your bra has him growling impatiently and tightening his hold on you. He spins you around, your head just missing the edge of the door, and carries you into the bedroom while kissing at your neck. You bite your lip when he tosses you onto your mattress and tauntingly crawls up your body, his red eyes glowing bright in the dark room. His teeth replace yours and you whine at the sudden sting of your flesh splitting beneath his razor fangs. You wiggle under him, causing him to pull back.

“Mmm, are you frightened of me human,”

A second whine grabs his attention, his vivid iris’ deeply boring into yours while he slithers closer, heavy body dropping onto your own when his hands switch from holding his weight to holding your cheeks. Cold thumbs trace beneath your eyes, your chest falling and rising to push against his shirt, your heart thumping loudly as he leans to the side and licks along the shell of your ear.

“You should be,”

“Mark, please,”

The breathy chuckle he releases fans across your neck as he pulls back, lovingly glares at you before capturing your bloody lips in a gentle kiss. He smirks against you when you painfully hiss into his mouth, his tongue swiping over the small punctures and effectively healing them while evading your mouth with wet warmth.

Finally growing impatient with his teasing, you desperately pull at the back of his shirt, rolling it up until he pulls away and throws it off. His hands easily rip the material of your top down the front, careful and gentle when it comes to helping you shrug the torn fabric from your shoulders.

Your thighs are spread over his cool hips while he worked at the drawstring of your pants. He silently slides from the bed once they’re untied, knees roughly hitting the floor and pinches the bottoms of your sweats to pull them off in one swift motion. In a second, he’s spreading your legs painfully wide and pressing them as far up as he can, the top of his hair all you see when he disappears between your thighs and swiftly licks over your soaked panties.

“Fuck, your scent,”

He turns to bury his face into your thigh, nose pushing into your skin as he inhales deeply.

“So good,”

He murmurs, dragging his bottom lip over you before carefully biting down, as gentle as he could manage.

“Mark, now, please now,”

He peeks at you from behind your tummy, arrogant smirk hidden but evident in his cheeks.

“You got it, sweetheart,”

One last kiss is placed to your leg then his fingers are hooking into your panties and pulling them down. Once discarded, he stands himself up, looking sinful while he removes his belt and shucks his pants off. His boxers are next and he’s on top of you after, hard cock resting against your lower stomach, leaking precome onto your pudge.

He hovers over you and gathers your wrists into one hand, pins them above your head in a tight grip to ensure you can’t escape. His lips brush over yours as he aligns himself up with your entrance.

“Don’t let me hurt you,”

You only nod once before he’s pressing inside, the heat of your core squeezing around his freezing dick and forcing him to push in faster than intended, a gasp breaking through the silence as you’re suddenly jabbed into by a seven inch stiff cock. His forehead drops to your shoulder as his grip tenses with his self restraint, hips grinding into you slowly.

“Fuck, fuck,”

Mark growls almost angrily into your neck, his free hand slamming down next to your bodies and curling into the sheets. You nose at his ear for a few seconds, patiently waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Okay?”

He slowly releases a sigh before nodding, pulling up to look at you with red eyes and a strained smile.

“Let me kiss you,”

His whisper is quiet yet dangerous and you nod anyway, accepting the plush pressure of his mouth against yours with a soft moan. His hips pull back and jerk forward in the first thrust and in turn the sheets shift beneath you both as he struggles to hold back from just pounding into you endlessly. He whimpers into your mouth, body shivering above you in torture.

“Mark, just go,”

“Don’t,”

He grunts in warning, testing for a second thrust before setting a steady pace for you. You throw your head back at the feeling of him pressing inside so deep and pulling back so slow, eventually losing his control and grinding up into you faster. His breathing becomes shallow by your head, fingers impossibly tight around your wrists but hips circling in such a way that has your back arching.

You call out your boyfriends name, encouraging a snarl out of him that has him moving quicker. Before he turned to bite your neck and cause a mess, you break free of his grasp and hook your nails into his shoulders, the pain dull but grounding him slightly enough to moan and switch back to careful grinding. You go to pull away and he chokes.

“Scratch me, make me bleed, sweetheart,”

He pulls back and you notice the vein straining on his forehead.

“Own me, own me,”

He starts chanting in whispers, dropping quick kisses to your chin and jaw, hand pinning your hip to the mattress so he can pound into you faster. You both ignore the squeaking and creaking of the bed, the sounds quiet compared to your moaning while he stretched your tightness around him. You’re scratching at his flexed biceps, gripping so tightly he’s hissing into your ear, when he’s suddenly laid on his back and holding onto your waist as you sat on his lap. You’re shocked, looking around with wide eyes but him whining impatiently and pushing up into you brings you back.

You smack your hands onto his chest and lift yourself up, dragging your tight rim over the entire length of him and dropping back down in circles. His hands on your hips assist you in bouncing in his lap faster, his fangs sunk into the flesh of his own bottom lip as he watched you ride him into the mattress. His fingers curl around your body, easily leaving dark bruises in their wake as he comes closer.

“I’m,”

“No,”

You sit up and bend your back, slipping him in deeper and ripping loud groans from the both of you. He scrambles to capture your wrists and clasp them together behind you, keeping you restrained as he begins to push up and meet your falls.

“Baby, I have to, I can’t,”

“Mark,”

Your warning isn’t enough to hold him off, his hips slapping up into you in one last powerful thrust, the stretch almost painful as he discards your human sensitivity.

“You can’t-!”

Mark’s head tosses back and everything tenses beneath you, his stomach muscles, his chest, his arms as his grip tightens impossibly on your waist and hair, your shout too late as he empties himself inside of you with a demonic-sounding groan that scarily echoed off the walls of the room.

Your neck was sore and pain throbbed through it and down your spine when he gently pushed you from on top of him, rolling himself over and burying his face into the blankets. Frowning, you scramble to grab for the sheet and cover yourself up, body heated and slick steadily leaking out of you, wide eyes drilling into the back of his head.

His shoulders rose and fell with his controlled panting, a scream slicing through the silence when he appears an inch in front of your face. Eyes returned to natural color, he cradles your cheeks with shaking hands and scans over your bruises with concern.

“Fuck, baby I-I’m,”

You try leaning away from him but he surges forward.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to, sweetheart, I’m sorry,”

He kisses over every purple fingerprint, every sore spot, the pain disappearing with the careful pressures of his soft, healing lips on your skin. It ends with him pressing a hesitant kiss to the corner of your mouth, worried eyes flicking to yours in search of any left fear. None found, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss he could manage, tongue gentle as it soothes over the tip of your own in desperate apology.

“It’s okay,”

You murmur but he whines and grasps at your sides, pulls you and the sheet into his lap, wraps it around you so you aren’t exposed.

“It’s not,”

He disagrees, kiss growing deeper, tongue reaches further back, lips sliding faster.

“I told you not to let me hurt you, I,”

“You didn’t,”

He pulls away and looks for the lie in your face, frown weighing the corners of his lips down when he finds that you actually believe it.

“I did-”

“You didn’t,”

You repeat yourself, comb your fingers through his messy hair for reassurance and pull his head to your chest. His arms circle around your waist, squeezing you close and he relishes in the silence and your warm touches. You know he hears the way your heart skips beats and drops when he mumbles quietly under his breath.

“I can’t stay,”
—