warnings:rated M (18+) for language; depression; alcohol consumption; self-destructive behavior; mention of experiencing a panic attack; reader is pansexual; angst / fluff / feels; mentions of and alludes to smut; non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers with Yoongi and JK; switches between JK, Yoongi, reader, and omnipresent POV
a–dick–ted au. It is recommended to read all other parts before this one, as it alludes to many moments in all the previous parts.
–
“Why didn’t she want me?”
Day in, day out, skirting responsibilities, making excuses, his life and heart falling apart, promises broken, nothing mattering, friends trying to step in and him pushing them away, everything balancing on a thin, thin line, slowly, gradually, crumbling.
“What did I do wrong?”
Most nights, lost in a haze, playing the game of will he wake up tomorrow or not.
“Jungkook, get up.”
That tired voice, raspy with strain and pain, drifting down. Hands reaching under his armpits and hoisting him up with a grunt of effort, because he was bigger, younger, and stronger than the body trying to carry him, but he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t believe it, couldn’t standit.
He reached out for another beer, but a pale hand covered his, gently pulling his hand away, squeezing his fingers.
“You’ve had enough.”
The thinner body was holding up his fragile self, struggling. He clung onto it, clutching onto the leather and burying his face into the collar. Black hair. Pine, leather, whiskey.
“Hyung…”
That small, weak voice wasn’t his. It wasn’t. In his head, he was confident, happy, playful, holding her hand and dragging her to him, on top of his body once more, rough, wild, passionate kisses, warmth and desire, his forever dream, his never-ending moment.
“I’m here with you.”
He hadn’t even realized how loud the house was, bumping into people and stumbling as Min Yoongi dragged him along, holding him protectively, blurred faces and strange shadows all around, and he couldn’t look at the people around them, judging and scrutinizing, shaking their heads. He chose to stare into black hair instead. The stench of alcohol was so strong. It was disgusting, but he couldn’t avoid it. In his stomach, his mouth, his lungs, threatening him, drowning him from the inside out.
“I still…” he slurred, voice cracking, unable to finish.
“I know,” Yoongi said gruffly, but it was consoling somehow, the way he said it. “I’m right here with you.”
Yoongididknow.
When he closed his eyes, he could see it, her profile, the shape of her eyes, the tilt of her head and her cascading hair. The way she looked at his room, inspecting the music memorabilia, knowing they were all parts of him. The interest, the awe, the…
He would call her name and she would face him, those plush lips parting, looking right at him.
And he could feel it. He swore he could, and he said so that fateful day, slamming his fist to his wall, sliding down, the tears stinging his eyes, he swore that it was real, that look in her eyes.
Like she wanted him.
Like she needed him.
Jungkook swore to Yoongi he saw it in her eyes.
No.
That day didn’t happen.
It wasn’t real.
In his head, Jungkook was still there, in his apartment, clutching the photo behind his back, looking into her eyes and her looking back.
Like she loved him.
-
He had to close his eyes to see her, because she wasn’t there when he opened them.
She would knock on his door and he would open it and pull her in, her voice saying his name, a mixture of indignance and fondness, clutching his shirt, his hands flipping up her skirt, revealing her black panties at his front door before he closed it, pressing her body against it, deep, hungry kisses, her hands holding his face.
“Jungkook… I could have walked in on my own, you psycho.”
Her chastising him, but, somehow, she didn’t seem to mean it at all.
“Sorry, noona. I don’t care.”
And she would click her tongue, but she would pull him closer, his smirk against her inviting lips, already pulling her into the apartment, her hastily kicking off her black boots, him pulling off her jacket, sliding his hands up her thighs, moaning into her mouth at the softness of her ass, the way she filled his hands, perfect, always perfect, lifting her so she had to hold onto him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands tangling in his silver hair.
“Jungkook…”
Every second, every moment, so real he could almost taste it, taste the desire in her kiss, taste the lingering artificial sweetness of the gummy bears from her tongue, taste her skin on his lips and the way it vibrated with her moan, her thighs squeezing him, making him hard with that action alone.
His name, floating down to his ears.
“J-Jungkook…”
He couldn’t get enough, never.
He didn’t want anyone else, never.
He would whisper her name against her skin and she would shudder at the feeling of his tongue travelling across her throat, her moan filling his ears, his head, his heart.
“No one else but you.”
Jungkook would dump her on his bed where a large lump would grunt in annoyance, pulling down the blanket, small smile on that disgruntled face once he realized who it was, Jungkook pushing her up against Min Yoongi and her squeak of surprise.
“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”
His hyung pulling up her shirt, humming in response.
“Can’t stand being at mine sometimes.”
Unhooking her bra, tossing it aside, so Jungkook could lean down and scoop her breasts to his face, flickering his tongue over them as Yoongi tipped her head back to look into her eyes.
“More fun for you, right?” that raspy voice would taunt, deft tongue flicking between pink lips.
And he would watch, watch his hyung kiss her and feel her body strain under his teasing touch, her back arching, shoving her tits into his face, his lips closing around one of her hard nipples, so good, so delicious, Yoongi’s tongue playing with her mouth, whines buried in her chest.
The world could tell him no.
The world could tell him to wake up.
The world could tell him right from wrong.
But Jungkook would never believe it. He would never believe this was wrong, her in his hands and in Yoongi’s hands, her pressed up against them at the end of the night, her quiet breathing its own rhythm and song, the dreamlike melody of his days and nights and Jungkook would never want anything else like he wanted these moments.
Never.
In his world, it was just him, his hyung, and his noona.
Then, he would open his eyes and she wasn’t there.
It was him, his hyung, and the alcohol.
Staring into nothing, emptiness in his soul.
“I still want you…” Jungkook mumbled, crumpled in the hallway of some random house, the world around him alive, but he saw none of it, lost in the world in his head.
“Jungkook, get up.”
-
He thought he knew what the worst feeling in the world was.
He really did.
What a joke.
He had seen a lot of shit. He grew up yelling and fighting to create his music, straining relationships, severing ties. He met terrible people, got screwed out of time and money, went to bed hungry, heard of his friends’ arrests or, worse, their deaths. It tore him up, it crippled him from the inside, and it manifested as his darkness, the depths inside him that threatened to swallow him up when there were too many people, too many pressures, too many fears. All these, and he thought he had experienced the worst feeling in the world.
But he was wrong.
The worst feeling in the world was watching Jeon Jungkook throw up on the fucking grass, rubbing his back as he retched out the contents of his stomach, most of it being alcohol tainted with bile.
It was disgusting, pitiful, and it hurt him so, so very much to watch.
“H… Hyung…”
Fuck, his broken, weak voice hurt him even more.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out some paper napkins, handing them to the younger man to wipe his mouth as he looked around. He let Jungkook be for a quick moment as he rushed back into the house, pushing drunk people aside to find a cooler, snatching a water bottle from half-melted ice. The change in temperature shocked him for a moment before he gritted his teeth and strode back out, finding Jungkook walking alone, swaying and stumbling, bumping into cars, his silver hair matted and stuck to his sweaty forehead.
“Yoongi-hyung…?”
He sounded so lost.
Me too.
“Jungkook.”
He had to shake his shoulder for Jungkook to turn around. He had to unscrew the cap and bring the water to the shaking lips, tipping it slowly, letting the younger man drink. He had to tell him to swallow, otherwise it seemed like he wouldn’t.
It hurt him.
It was the worst feeling in the world, shoving Jungkook into a taxi, avoiding the disapproving look of the driver as he handed him the crumpled bills, dragging him back to the apartment building, going to the third floor and Jungkook furiously shaking his head, tears streaming down, please hyung, no,not back there, please, and him agreeing, walking past, up to the fourth floor, his chest tight as he opened his apartment, the corner unit, seeing his still-open bathroom door.
Mocking him.
The flash of memory, absolute panic and yanking the bathroom door closed, locking it, tearing at his skin, his clothes, sinking down into the tile, terror and loathing rolled into one, tormenting his mind and his soul, inner voices telling him he couldn’t do it, couldn’t perform on a stage with that many people and seeing so many eyes on him, telling him that he wasn’t good enough, that he deserved nothing good in this world.
It didn’t matter if they were lies because, in that moment, he couldn’t tell the truth from the lies anyway.
A tentative tap on the door, soft silvery voice cutting through the thoughts.
“Hyung? Are you okay?” Jungkook had asked. The doorknob rattled. “Do you need help?”
“Don’tcome in here,” he had growled, animalistic and in pain.
The rattling stopped.
He heard movement, as if someone had gotten to their knees. He heard weight; palms pressed to the wood. And then, gentleness, like a small light in his darkness.
“It’s okay, hyung. I’ll help you.”
Help? No one could help him. No one. No one did this to him. It was all him. It was all in his head.
“What do you need?” Jungkook had murmured quietly. “You can ask for anything. Anything. I’ll do my best to make it happen. I promise.”
He hadn’t replied.
Athunk, like a forehead to wood.
“Yoongi-hyung. Please. Let me help you.”
Despair.
Silence.
His mouth had opened and her name had drifted out like smoke.
“Okay, hyung. Okay. I’ll get her. I promise.”
We’re not a moment, right?
Now, the heavy weight on his shoulder slid down, almost falling to the floor, but Yoongi caught him, caught Jeon Jungkook’s drunken state and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him inside, leaning him against the wall and taking off his shoes, helping Jungkook out of his, his own self broken inside, but hauling the larger, younger man down the hallway to his bedroom, settling him on the bed and adjusting his head, Jungkook losing consciousness, lost in his dreams once more.
And no matter how much Min Yoongi wanted to fall apart, no matter how much he wanted to drink all of the whiskey inside this apartment and pass out along with Jungkook, hoping and praying that he never woke up, Yoongi did none of that.
He sat and stayed with his dreamer, brushing the silver strands out of his face, not falling asleep so he could be there for him in case anything happened. Because when he was at his lowest point, there were only two people that stuck by him and one of them was gone now.
Yoongi did not want to lose the other.
He reached over and placed his hand on Jungkook’s chest, feeling the firm thud-thud of his heart.
“We’re not a moment, right?” he whispered to the air, pain slicing into his frail voice.
Only now, when Jungkook couldn’t see him, did Yoongi cry.
-
He knew he should give up.
She was just like him, running from the nameless demons in her head. Misery loved company and all that shit. Sure, whatever. He thought she would be upset when he told her he had no interest in relationships, that he didn’t want to be her boyfriend, that he didn’t believe in love.
That was the first sign.
The little sting when he saw her expression after saying that. She seemed relieved. He brushed it off, as he always did. Only playing around, treating it like a high-stakes gamble instead of what it was. He knew he would get tired and give up, eventually. He always did, before her.
He didn’t give up.
Yoongi knew he couldn’t.
The second sign was how easily he remembered her favorite things.
The kiss that made her wet, the moments of daring ‘what-ifs’, the way he held her in his lap and made her grind on him in public, not letting her focus on anything else. People? Yoongi didn’t give a shit about people. It was only him and his girl.
The third sign.
His.
Girl.
The fourth sign.
Jeon Jungkook confronting him, admitting his dream girl he wanted to lose his virginity with. Consequences? Yoongi didn’t care about consequences. He only cared about how aroused he knew this was going to make his naughty girl. He lived his life without thinking about the future. He always had.
The fifth sign.
He liked it. Liked watching Jungkook do things to her, suggesting crazy shit, liked feeling her shiver after Jungkook wrecked her and then doing the wrecking himself, her fingers clutching his shoulders, her desperate kiss, asking for more in breathless whispers. It probably wasn’t right, but Yoongi didn’t give a shit, because when he was with her, it was paradise. When he was with her, there were no nameless demons to run away from.
And when she wasn’t there, when the demons came back, there was Jungkook.
Jungkook pulled him from his nightmares with his dreams, his plans, his ideas. Compelling him, distracting him, redirecting his energy.
The sixth sign.
Yoongi knew, this time, this time was different.
He was the one who took the first picture. He took it himself, on his phone when she wasn’t looking. He stared at that photo for hours, studying that profile, that face, those eyes, and he made a choice.
He told Jungkook.
And Jungkook to his own photo, as Yoongi knew he would, because Jungkook had never hid his desire in the first place. They printed them together. Wrote on the backs of them together. Held them nervously, together, looking into each other’s eyes.
Afraid.
The seventh sign.
The way she said his name.
Her eyes, his paradise, their never-ending moment and their forever dream.
And the shattering of his heart when she dropped the photos and ran. She was just like him. He would have run too. But it was different this time. This time, Yoongi was on the receiving end and he knew how much it hurt.
-
He knew the way people talked about him. That he was a bad boy, A playboy. That he didn’t care about anything. That he was a puny, good-for-nothing, shitty rapper. But he sold out venues, even if they were small.
That was him, Min Yoongi.
He could have walked away. Fuck it. This whole thing was crazy anyway. Didn’t make any fucking sense. It shouldn’t work and he shouldn’t try to make it work.
We’re not a moment, right?
He could have told Jeon Jungkook to get a fucking grip and stop moping, because fuck, he wasn’t moping like him, right?
Right?
Yoongi would tell himself that as he held fistfuls of sheets, soaking them with his eyes, stifling any sound he made, Jungkook snoring loudly above him. He would stop before the sun rose, getting up to wash his face and throw himself onto the bed, the stinging pain of keeping his eyes open finally too much.
Was it always going to be like this? Forever like this, this pain?
He hated it.
Therefore, Yoongi made a choice.
He chose to care.
Yoongi was not going to give up and he was not going to let Jungkook give up either.
-
“Hey, Jungkook.”
“Hey, hyung.”
It was a quiet exchange. Jeon Jungkook straightened out the collar of his black dress shirt and stood up, brushing off his slacks. He paused before unbuttoning the first three, then frowned, and rebuttoned one.
“Need you to come with me.”
“For what, hyung?” He tried to sound as bright as he could, but it was all play-pretend.
“I made a hair appointment for you,” Yoongi replied, sliding his hand under the neckline of his white t-shirt and rubbing his collarbone. He didn’t look at him directly. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t need a hair appointment,” Jungkook chuckled, running a hand through his silvery-blond locks, slightly brassy now from the lack of care, but nothing some water couldn’t fix. No one would notice if he simply pushed it back and away from his face.
“I already paid for it.”
“W… what?”
Yoongi clicked his tongue, shrugging on his black hoodie. “Come on. My friend needed the cash. You like coloring your hair.”
“I only colored it because…” The sentence trailed off and Jungkook gave Yoongi a pained look.
The older male reached over and grabbed his wrist.
“You have to break the cycle,” Yoongi said softly, staring into his eyes. “I really need you with me. Please.”
Jungkook gazed at him helplessly, all dressed up and nowhere to go, because the places he wanted to go were destinations in his dreams, with her.
“Please, Jungkook.”
The grip on his wrist tightened, Yoongi’s dark brown eyes glistening. He turned his head away, but forced himself to look back, holding Jungkook in his resolute stare.
A stare full of thinly veiled pain.
“I can’t do this alone.”
And how, Jungkook remembered. All of his dreams had Yoongi in them too.
For a moment, he had forgotten that. For many nights and many days, he had forgotten Yoongi was always there, holding him up when he was falling down, being his eyes when the world was blurry, hiding his sadness so Jungkook could wallow in his.
He lifted his other hand and placed it over the pale one.
“Okay, hyung. Okay.”
-
“How you seen someone who looks like this?”
The kid took the picture from him, big eyes looking bigger in his round, bug-eyed lenses.
“Yeah. It’s the pretty noona.”
The kid handed it back.
“But I haven’t seen her in a while. I’m sorry.”
Jeon Jungkook smiled soothingly and patted the kid on the head. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen her in a while either. That’s why I’m asking.”
He stood up, tucking his now purple hair behind his ear. The kid looked up at him, mouth slightly open, in awe of Jungkook’s height. The kid was sporting a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it and blue pants that were a little too short for him, a colorful patch on the shin. Jungkook bowed pointedly to him even though he was only a young child. The kid continued to stare. He was about to turn around before the kid spoke up again.
“She seemed really sad.”
Jungkook paused.
“I used my allowance to buy her gummy bears. Did you know? She always buys gummy bears when she comes here.” The kid sniffed, rubbing the back of his nose as Jungkook looked down at him, the words stinging his heart. “But she seemed so sad. Like she was hurting deep inside, but trying to hide it.” He lifted his head, blunt bowl cut bouncing, dashing over to Jungkook and tugging on his jeans.
“Is she okay, hyung?”
The worst part was, Jungkook didn’t know.
The kid bit his lip, shaking the leg of his jeans, his mother behind the counter chastising him, saying not to touch the customers, but Jungkook held his hand up, crouching down. The kid looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He did not feel brave inside, but he tried to show that he was brave on the outside, smiling warmly, placing a reassuring hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“I’m going to make sure she’s okay. I promise.”
Was he promising this random kid whose mom worked at the gas station?
Or was he promising himself?
-
“Hey, young man.”
Yoongi stopped at the stairs, keys between his knuckles.
He turned around.
A guy in a dirty khaki jacket and torn jeans with a swollen purple eye and a bruised cut on his lip. He was holding an empty bottle of soju and something else. A small, plastic package.
Yoongi’s eyes widened.
“I heard, uh… I heard you were asking around for someone,” the guy mumbled, looking sheepish and out-of-sorts. “I think… I think I’ve seen her so I wanted to catch you and let you know.” He swallowed, sniffing hard and shaking his head, the flaps of his coat opening, revealing the Doraemon tattoo on his chest and many more. All cartoon characters.
The guy held out the gummy bears.
Yoongi lifted his own, speechless as the package fell into his palm.
“She was here… last night? Or the day before.” The guy scooted around, rambling on despite Yoongi not replying, standing at a random spot halfway to the stairs and the parking lot. “Just standing here. Holding the candy and this soju here.” He raised the empty bottle, pointing at the windows of the apartment complex. “Think she wanted to… But she didn’t. She handed these to me and drove away. Asked me to keep them.”
The guy scratched his head. Then he pointed at Yoongi, nodding, more to himself than to him.
“I think she’s a little like me…” the guy was saying, slightly incoherent. “Said… said her and her momma don’t talk anymore. Me neither, you know… she gave me up as a baby before I could even say ‘go ahead, bitch’… heh… hehehe… man… sucks…” He rubbed his lips and sucked in a tight breath, flinching in pain as he touched his bruised lip. “Anyway, I put some feelers out for you.”
Yoongi swallowed, clutching the gummy bears tightly, the crinkle of plastic cutting into his skin.
“W… why?”
The guy looked awkward, shifting his eyes.
“Dunno… I just… people are important, you know?” He winced, jerking his head away. “No… no one wants to look for me, heh. Only for the drugs.”
He shoved his hand into his dirty tan coat and wrenched out a handful of tiny bags, all with colorful pills in them. After a brief moment, he jammed them back into his coat, frowning.
“Don’t want her to end up like me.”
The guy with the Doraemon tattoo raised his head, looking at Yoongi. Underneath his coat, ribs poked out straining against colorful, inked skin. His teeth were crooked, a little yellow, but he smiled anyway, shrugging. A small light inside him, despite his appearance.
“Not when someone’s looking out for her, you know?”
-
You ran.
Ran through the cars, stumbling, searching for yours, chest tight, black hood falling off, black hair suddenly free, wild and tangled around you, dark waves shimmering in the moonlight and streetlight, the only lights you saw these days.
“Noona…?”
A broken voice, once silvery and mischievous.
You turned, seeing violet.
-
“Um…”
You looked up from your head hanging between your legs. The girl beside you smiled, moving the red lollipop between her teeth. You were sitting on the stone steps of the porch. The party inside was dying, everyone falling asleep or falling unconsciousness.
“I don’t want to admit this, but… thanks.”
You wiped her lipstick off your mouth with the back of your head. “What?”
“Well, uh,” she continued sheepishly, her voice flitting between raspy and silvery, a strange mix. “I broke up with my boyfriend earlier this week. Not because he did anything… but I did.” She rubbed the back of her head, white lollipop stick moving between her now pink lips, the red having been kissed off. “And I was gonna get wasted and fuck some dude, but I found you instead.”
You gave her a weird look.
She nervously laughed. “I didn’t bring protection. On purpose.”
You blinked, slowly.
She popped the lollipop out of her lips, tapping it in the air. It glistened with saliva.
“I thought maybe if I had a kid, I’d have some purpose.” She breathed out, heavy. “Stupid, right? Fuck, that’s so fucking stupid.” She scoffed, shaking her head before raising it to look at you. “But I found you and I realized how stupid I almost was. And you’re a better kisser too. You actually paid attention to me when I said it was too rough or that I wanted more. People who come to these parties, they’re not like that normally, you know? Nobody cares here. Everybody seems to forget people are still people when they’re drunk or being stupid.”
Your lips parted.
“So… thanks. You helped me realize that. I could have made a really dumb mistake.”
She scooted closer to you, laying her head on your shoulder.
“I’m gonna sit with you a little longer, okay?”
You looked down at her and she smiled back at you, gently.
-
“Hey, hyung, Jungkook.”
Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, standing in the gas station Jimin worked at, waving the two over.
“Are you two supposed to be hanging out while working?” Min Yoongi muttered, raising an eyebrow at Jimin. Taehyung slid off the stool behind the counter and walked around it, adjusting his olive-green beanie, wispy brown locks sticking out of the bottom.
The blond man shrugged. “Eh, the manager isn’t gonna know. I’m off in an hour anyway.”
Jeon Jungkook ignored the exchange, heading straight for Taehyung, his long, tied-back purple hair giving him a fierce look. “You said you heard something,” he said impatiently.
“Mhm, I asked some old friends, and, mind you, I haven’t talked to these dudes in ages because they’re kinda shitty. But it turns out some people are already keeping an eye out for her, so I guess everyone in the scene was on the lookout. She’s been, er… hanging out on the far, far side of the city.”
Taehyung grimaced, holding up his phone. Blurry pictures, but there was no mistaking who and doing what. Right out in the open, familiar positions. Jungkook grabbed Taehyung’s phone, flipping through them, brows furrowed, intently focused on the screen.
“She has an MO. No dudes. But… yeah.”
Jungkook handed him his phone back, lips pursed.
“You said you might know where she’s going to be next. Where.”
Not a question. A statement.
Taehyung exchanged a look with Jimin. Jimin’s eyes flitted to Yoongi, who gave him an unreadable expression, but there was an intensity there, as if he too was demanding an answer.
“Are you sure, guys?” Jimin asked, his light voice laced with worry. “You might get hurt.”
“Been there, done that.” Yoongi brushed off the comment dismissively, still pointedly staring at Taehyung.
“You sure she’s worth all this?” The concern obvious in the baritone, uncomfortable.
Taehyung frowned. “Neither of you have ever been able to commit to people before. She’s clearly moving on. And besides… two of you and one of her… that’s just–”
Jungkook’s hands flew out, grabbing the front of Taehyung’s shirt, shaking him furiously.
“Tell me where.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but then he caught the emotion trapped in his dark chocolate eyes, the barely-there waver in his silvery voice.
At any moment, it seemed like Jungkook was going to break down.
Taehyung’s gaze flickered to Yoongi, but the older man simply ticked his chin to Jungkook. Yoongi was better at hiding it or perhaps it was because he wasn’t as close. But there was something in the older man’s stance, heavily guarding the delicate heart inside, invisible strings holding him up, so thin they seemed ready to snap, but Yoongi was holding on, obviously seeing something Taehyung couldn’t.
“Alright,” Taehyung finally said. “Alright, I’ll give you guys the address. It’s at the far side of the city.”
-
Purple hair, flushed cheeks, a lost look in chocolate eyes that were fixed on you, pink lips parted, mole underneath trembling with unease. White t-shirt, black cargo pants, and thick-soled black boots. His tattooed right arm made him stand out, along with his violet-colored hair. He took a hesitant step forward.
Fingers outstretched, trying to touch you.
Your eyes widened and you turned to run, but a firm hand closed around your wrist, yanking you to a mop of black hair and a pale face.
“We didn’t come all the way over here to have you run from us again.”
The anger in his dark brown eyes made you freeze, accusing you.
“Y… Yoongi…”
His name felt foreign to your lips, not having said it in weeks. You tried to pull away but Min Yoongi held on, gritting his teeth. Black and navy bomber jacket, white shirt, and distressed black jeans. How could you have known then – that thisoutfit would be the one that started it all?
“Who… how…?”
Yoongi scoffed, clicking his tongue. “A kid and a dirty guy with a Doraemon tattoo. Jimin, Taehyung. And even then, it took forever to find you.” He shifted, sighing heavily, eyes flickering to the moon, still clutching your wrist, almost painfully. And you saw it.
Pain, glistening behind the gates of his cold demeanor.
All of a sudden, a hard body collided into you, Yoongi letting go, strong hands spinning you around, grip on your upper arms so tight it felt like your flesh was bruising, your head jerking up, eyes wide, looking up to purple hair.
And tears.
Streaming down those high cheekbones, tan skin and quivering lips.
“Why?”
His silvery voice cracked as Jeon Jungkook shook you, harsh sobs racking his chest, drowning in his tears, your name on his lips, still so sweet in his pain, heavy, wheezing breaths as he struggled to speak, barely croaking out the words.
“Why didn’t you want me?”
-
Why didn’t they want me?
A question you asked all the time. To the busy, overworked adults preparing your meals and scolding you to follow their routines, dividing their attention among the unwanted. Then to the others, the same as you, the tossed aside, the other mistakes and secrets, just as lost and confused. No one could ever answer you, because there was no answer other than, they just didn’t.
And then.
Him.
Everybody said, Min Yoongi was a bad boy. Min Yoongi was a playboy. Min Yoongi didn’t care about anything. And neither did you.
There was no.
Reason to take anything seriously.
You couldn’t. And neither could he.
It took a dreamer to pull you and Yoongi out of the endless night.
-
Jungkook pitched forward, crying into your chest, smelling like laundry, the sea, and bitterness, large, hiccupping sniffles, wiping his tears and snot on your hoodie, and, as if by robotic knowledge of proper social etiquette, your arms raised, about to encircle him, but Yoongi slapped your hands down.
“Don’t you daretry to comfort him if you don’t mean it,” he snarled, glaring at you from behind Jungkook’s hunched-over form. “You hurt him enough.”
You froze at his hostile tone, his slap stinging your skin and your heart.
Yoongi clicked his tongue, jaw clenched. “Me, fuck, I don’t fucking matter. But Jungkook? Shit. He’s a fucking mess without you, drinking every night, blacking out sometimes, throwing up liquor and barely eating.” His pale hand came up and ran through his black hair tensely, anger streaked in his expression, tainting his handsome face. He sucked in a deep breath before facing you again.
“I thought you and I weren’t a moment.”
Jungkook’s tears were soaking through the fabric of the hoodie, drenching the space above your left breast.
“I told you I only felt right when I was with you or him.”
The harshness in dark brown eyes faltered, his deep, raspy voice softening, laced with hurt.
“I still feel that way.”
He closed his eyes, pale cheeks coated in moonlight and streetlights.
“Even if I shouldn’t,” Yoongi whispered, almost inaudible.
-
You scoffed.
“I don’t need anything. Or anyone.”
The girl with the lollipop chuckled, nodding lightly. “Yeah, well, maybe someone needs you.”
You said nothing, looking out to the lawn where some idiot yanked open a car door and vomited on the grass. Another guy was leaning against a lamppost, looking out onto the road, staring at his phone, seemingly waiting to be picked up.
“Hard to know, though. You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.”
For a long, long moment, you listened to the sounds. The party, the loud music, the lively yelling, the muddled conversations, glass shattering, vicious swearing, messy kisses. The sound of breathing at your shoulder, steady, rhythmic, beside you.
At this moment, it occurred to you.
This was wrong.
And you remembered a sunset, sitting on the roof of an apartment building, looking over the urban jungle, two heads on your shoulders, a different world.
The right ones.
You lowered your head. All the other times, you were always silent. Alone, staring at the Han River.
But not this time.
“Don’t… don’t know what to do…” you shuddered, collecting your knees in your arms, shoving your face in between your limbs, wetness sliding down your cheeks. “I’m such… a fuckup… so… stupid…”
A stranger’s hand rubbing your back soothingly, her voice a mix of raspy and silvery.
“Don’t cry…”
-
You placed your hands on Jungkook’s arms.
Pulled him towards you.
“Don’t cry,” you murmured softly. “Please don’t cry, Jungkook.”
He pressed his face into your breasts, shoulders shaking, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you so tight that it seemed like he never wanted to let go, wet sobs trapped against your chest. You placed your lips to the top of his purple hair.
“I’m sorry I ran away,” you said softly, lifting your head, seeing Yoongi standing behind Jungkook, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, I… I couldn’t believe it. I was scared. Really scared of those words. And I didn’t know what they really meant, not until…”
You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.
“I didn’t understand what it meant to love.”
You looked down, seeing that beautiful face stained with tears, his skin blotchy and flushed. You reached between you and Jungkook to wipe his tears, your fingertips becoming soaked with the river of despair inside him.
“I couldn’t believe that you two were okay with it, this crazy arrangement.”
“I said I wanted it,” Yoongi muttered.
“That’s not the same, Yoongi,” you chuckled wryly, raising your head to look at him, holding Jungkook’s cheek, feeling his larger hand coming up to press your palm against his skin. Your gaze faltered, not really looking at the destroyed lawn of this party house, but somewhere else, in the depths, into the past that haunted you, the only world you thought existed, the one that constantly betrayed you and didn’t want you. “Like how I thought I grew up and changed, but I didn’t change at all.”
Silence except for Jungkook’s sniffling.
“Neither did we,” Yoongi snorted. “He’s went back to being a drunkard and I went back to sulking in the corners of these shitty parties, skirting free alcohol.”
You frowned, clutching the white t-shirt. “He’s not a drunkard.”
Jungkook laughed, moist and hoarse, wiping his nose on your hoodie. You made a face at him, slightly disgusted. Maybe you deserved it. He looked up, chocolate eyes glistening. Your breath caught in your throat, confused how someone like you could make someone like him feel this way. You carefully patted his eyes dry with your sleeve, dabbing at his wet lashes. His lower lip trembled and he leaned in, stopping just above your lips.
Fear.
Him and you.
“I want to know you want it too,” Jungkook shuddered, clearing his throat.
You looked back at him, lips parting, heart thudding in your chest, uncomfortable, oppressive, but this time, this time you didn’t run away.
Because this time, you knew how much it hurt.
You closed the distance.
“I want it. All of it.”
You kissed him, long and deep, your euphoria, your forever dream, and Jungkook kissed you back, desperate, hungry, grabbing your shoulders and kissing you again and again, wet, sloppy kisses, taking your breath away. Every kiss, every touch, familiar, right. Emotion flooded your ribcage, threatening to burst, but you had something to do, someone equally as important, so you placed your hand on his chest, stopping him, exhaling one word in his mouth.
“Yoongi.”
And Jungkook backed off, still sniffing, chewing on his lip and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, nodding in agreement, giving you the space. You faced him now, so used to running away that this felt strange, but you did it anyway, looking into his sharp, cat-like eyes.
Min Yoongi.
Stolen touches, mere moments, becoming bolder and bolder, until the ante was so high it was impossible to cross, and yet Yoongi had crossed it that fateful night when he asked you to take Jungkook’s virginity, and, without you knowing, without him knowing…
This, whatever thiswas between you and him, was no longer a moment.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m still pissed at you.”
You sucked in a breath. “Yeah, well, I do bad things.”
Yoongi curled his lip, narrowing his eyes. “You’re supposed to do them with me. You said you would. Or did you forget?”
You glanced down at the ground, then back up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Yoongi clicked his tongue and exhaled hard. He looked away from you, but then abruptly jerked his head back, stepping forward, closing the distance, his hand coming up to circle around your head, long fingers burying themselves in your hair, glaring disapprovingly. He held you in place, forcing you to look into his dark brown orbs shadowed by black hair.
“Ah, shut up.”
And then he kissed you hard, brows furrowed, whispering into your lips, I’m sorry too, and you smiled helplessly, one of your hands resting on his waist, pulling him closer, your song, your never-ending moment, pine and leather and Yoongi, him saving you and you saving him, protecting each other from the nameless demons in your respective heads, although neither of you wanted to admit it. He ran his fingers through your hair, familiarity and comfort, letting out a puff of breath. He looked embarrassed, dark eyes shifting brusquely. His other hand touched your right, wrapping his fingers around yours.
“Let’s go home.”
Another took your left, squeezing it tightly. You looked up to see Jungkook’s still-red cheeks and sheepish smile. “You want to come home with us, noona?” he tried to tease, but it sounded more endearing than playful.
You raised an eyebrow, locking your fingers with theirs.
“Is it still called going home with you if I’m the one taking you there?”
-
epilogue:awake
You awoke to soft lips on yours. Tattooed fingers stroked your cheek, long strands brushing your forehead, silvery voice murmuring your name. You opened your eyes to black hair, cat-like, dark brown orbs looking at you under lowered lashes. His lips on yours, the scent of pine, his soft exhale of your name on your skin, making you shudder. Another pair of your lips pressed against your ear, his body hovering over yours and his.
“Yoongi.”
He smiled against your lips.
The bad boy that changed everything.
Your never-ending moment.
Four, eight, six.
“I love you,” you whispered softly, shivers running through you, the words foreign and alien, but you said them anyway, because they were the most special words in the world and you wanted to give them to Min Yoongi.
He chuckled, ears flushing pink, eyes shifting before focusing back on you, repeating it just as quietly, because he, too, wanted to give them to you, not written down, but from his mouth, giving voice to his heart.
“I love you.”
Why did it feel so nice, hearing those words in that raspy, deep voice? Why did it make your heart beat so fast? Why did it hold you and trap you, and why did you want to be trapped, trapped in this melody, these lyrics, this song, this never-ending moment?
Yoongi nudged you, indicating you to look to your left. You turned your head, looking up, seeing dark brown eyes, his purple locks brushing against your cheeks, the mole underneath his lower lip quivering. You reached up and touched his cheek gently, fitting your palm along his chiseled jaw, his own hand still cupping your cheek, naked body on top of yours.
“Jungkook.”
He leaned into your hand, smiling.
The wrong guy who turned out to be the right guy to pick up all along.
Your forever dream.
Four, eight, six.
“I love you,” you breathed, looking into those chocolate orbs, reminded of how much Jeon Jungkook liked you and how he always showed it. For him, you were always his dream and everyone knows that in your dreams, you don’t have to lie or hide. All this time, letting you see him like you, adore you, love you, avoiding the words because he didn’t want to hurt Yoongi, because he wanted his hyung to decide how this was going to go.
Jungkook always knew that Yoongi loved you, maybe even before Yoongi knew it himself.
Now, you finally said the words, giving him what he so very badly wanted to say, and now he could finally, finally say them back to you.
“I love you.”
He leaned down, a delicate kiss on your lips, smelling of laundry and the sea.
For a long, long time, you had wandered, small hands that became big ones, never having another to hold, living on artificial sweetness, missing a safe place, the place to go back to. But Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook changed that.
For you, they were what love really meant in this world.
summary: There are a lot of people in this world, good, bad, and those in between. And there was him, the man of excess, the man that made Min Yoongi think, society is stupid as shit for saying what I can and can’t do, and so Yoongi does what he wants and that’s getting his dick sucked by the Twitter user yourowndionysus, because he is, in fact, the “Best suck out there by far.”
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; important! male OC is pansexual and Yoongi is bisexual / pansexual; threesome smut (fem reader, the faintest D/s dynamics (male OC being the dom and the other two being sub), m-receiving oral with all the tongue (at one point, two mouths on one dick), fingering, handjob, reverse cowgirl, forced orgasms, m-masturbation, cum-eating / feeding); non-idol!BTS - blue-haired, music producer!Yoongi x male wiyllt x female friend!reader; Yoongi’s POV
–
“F…Fuck…”
Warm, wet, tight. He sucked in a shallow breath, staring into dark, dark eyes that seemed to be smirking at him even through those mauve lips were currently full and occupied.
“Show me,” he gasped out, not looking away, unafraid. “Show me your tongue.”
The tightness subsided and the pink tongue snaked out, flashing out around his hard length, the silver-ringed hands sliding down his tense thighs to hold his balls and bring them to that sinful mouth, licking all over, flicking expertly at the space between them before drawing a sloppy saliva-covered figure-eight on his nuts, making Min Yoongi hiss and tip his head back, feeling the head of his cock rub against the roof of the mouth of another man, a man currently giving him, once again, the best blowjob of his life.
“Fuck, yes, fuck, you’re so good…”
Yoongi didn’t give a shit about societal rules.
Society sucked ass and in the worst way possible. Who decided that they could dictate what and who he should be doing? That was some bullshit as far as Yoongi was concerned. He didn’t really like people anyway. He could like a person, but people? Nah, fuck that.
Yoongi would rather have a nap in his studio than go socializing with large groups of people.
He took him deep again and Yoongi bit his lip, his hand coming up and tangling his fingers in that black hair, pushing it back from its usual sweep on the left side of that face, breathing hard as he watched those eyes watching him, strong hands once again on his thighs, ringed fingers fanning out, every one decorated with silver except the left pinky, pressing in, leaving indentations of said rings. Yoongi clenched his jaw as he felt the head slide into that throat, tight pulses far too controlled to be involuntary, waves of pleasure shimmering through him, deft tongue still swiping along the underside, fuck, Yoongi still didn’t understand how he could take it so deep and still move his tongue while controlling his throat muscles, it made no fucking sense, no sense at all. It felt so, so good, such a perfect image before him, looking down at dark eyes and that face bobbing up and down between his legs, the three silver coin necklaces jingling with movement, offering music to this erotic display, hands poised on his thighs to spread them wide, even his shapely ass and that back– fuck, that toned back and that familiar tattoo.
Whatever god out there decided that such a man should be created was clearly having some cruel joke with the universe.
Yoongi couldn’t decide if it would have been better or worse if this guy had been born a woman.
Either way, he was screwed, now, then, and in every interaction they had.
“I like this.”
“Hm?”
The silver-ringed hand pointed to the monitor in his studio. “This track. I liked it a lot.”
“Oh.” Yoongi wasn’t sure what to say to that.
The hand lowered, accompanied by a low hum from mauve lips. “I think I might get a tattoo of the lyrics.”
His eyes widened. “You? A tattoo? I thought you said you would never get a tattoo. Too indecisive.”
That wide smirk greeted him, complete with one of those rare dimples indenting his cheek. They never seemed to show around anyone else but him. “Yeah, I did say that, but that was before you decided to sing to me.”
“I’m not singing to you,” Yoongi snorted.
The other male ignored his rudeness. “I think it would be better to have it in English though. Make people wonder what it means. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Hah…tch, do whatever you want.”
He did. The man who named himself yourowndionysus on Twitter always did whatever the fuck he wanted. That was one of the reasons Yoongi liked being around him. People… well, there were many types of people. Good, bad, and most stuck in between with some mix of the two. And this one…
“How about you live like that?”
Yoongi frowned, hearing his own words sung back to him. “What?”
The man grinned, turning around and tugging his black t-shirt up, up a slim, defined waist, up toned muscular back, making Yoongi’s eyes widen as the tattoo was revealed, under the left shoulder blade and lined up against the spine, six English words stacked on top of each other, plastic taped over the freshly inked tattoo. Yoongi’s English was garbage, but he could read it just fine.
“What if you live like that?”
The other man chuckled, lowering his shirt. “I could have directly translated it, but it wouldn’t really make sense without the context of the rest of the song and I’m not interested in being featured on one of those Engrish blogs like a poorly translated road sign, although they arehilarious…”
“Why?”
Those dark, dark eyes flickered to him. He was taller than Yoongi, around a hundred-and-eighty centimeters.
“Why what?”
“Why did you get it tattooed?”
They stared at each other.
Yoongi hadn’t missed the rare moment of rambling. It was very unlike him. Looking at his face now, there was absolutely nothing giving him away. Just a measured gaze, observing Yoongi closely, the neckline of the black t-shirt low, exposing prominent collarbones and three silver coin necklaces. Yoongi knew what kind of person he was.
The things he did.
Those dark, dark eyes waited.
Yoongi had met him by accident, in the middle of picking up a girl before she noticed someone behind him at the bar, her face twisting in fury as she grabbed her drink and bolted from Yoongi mid-conversation to throw her drink at a man in a black denim jacket, a man with long black hair, dark eyes, mauve lips and silver rings on every finger except the left pinky, swiftly jerking out of the way as she tossed her drink at him and yelled at the top of her lungs.
“You asshole, you never called me back!”
Sucks to be you, lady, he calls me back.
Yoongi leaned forward.
Something flickered in those dark eyes even though he didn’t back away. When he spoke, it was a soft, gentle whisper.
“I try not to fuck my friends, Yoongi.”
“That sucks.”
And Yoongi kissed him.
Yoongi didn’t give a shit about what society considered right or wrong. There were too many ways to judge a person. He wasn’t going to waste his time thinking about it. He didn’t like people, and he rarely liked a person in general. Even rarer that he wanted to kiss someone. Even rarer that it would be someone who got his lyrics tattooed to their body. And certainly not someone who was his accidental friend because of a chance meeting of, why didn’t you call her back, and, I don’t call back people who would throw a drink at me the second I appear and it was a one-night stand or at least I thought so, turning into, you sound like an asshole, then, I’ll buy you a drink and convince you otherwise.
Those mauve lips on his, stealing his breath, a silver-ringed hand cradling his cheek and Yoongi was convinced, although he had been convinced a long time ago that night at a bar.
And now that mouth was on him, his own fingers in that black hair, and Yoongi didn’t care about anything except how he felt and how he was making him feel, seeing it in those dark eyes with blown-out pupils, nails and rings digging into his thighs, leaving marks on him. He couldn’t help it, just couldn’t help his hips moving, thrusting lightly in between those soft mauve lips, moans falling from his mouth as that throat adjusted for him, letting him do what he wanted, meeting his movements, burying him deep in slick tightness, pulsating around the head every time he descended, speeding up, stealing his breath without a kiss, Yoongi’s head tipping back to the headboard, ash blue strands of his own hair sticking to his face, lost in that tongue and that mouth, knowing who it was and wanting to cum into his mouth because it was so, so good, the best, and he could not be told that this was wrong on the sole basis that said mouth happened belong to a man.
Yoongi was convinced he was the best and he would always be the best.
“A-ah… harder, oh, fuck, yes, fuuuuuuuck…”
The pressure in his core was unbearable and he moaned deeply, spilling into that mouth, forgetting to breathe for a moment as the overwhelming ecstasy took over, his fingers curling into that hair, black locks standing out against his fair skin, shudders overtaking him, closing his eyes and whining as that throat constricted, drinking his orgasm in deliberate, small gulps, letting him feel it drain from the head, shocks of pleasure and sensitivity heightened by his held breath, pushing himself to the limits of lust.
It was so good that Yoongi had completely forgotten about anything else around him.
“Oi, hey, I haven’t finished you yet–”
The warm mouth left his cock. Yoongi untangled his fingers and laid there, spent.
“Heh, I know. I was holding myself back.”
A click of the tongue and Yoongi opened his eyes to see the woman beneath his friend getting up and frowning. Someone he invited for this, previously sucking his dick as he sucked Yoongi’s. A close friend of the other male. “I hate that you can do that.”
“Youtaught me that.”
“Well, I hate that you learned.”
Thatsmirkon those mauve lips.
Yoongi would never be sick of it.
Before this, that smirk had ticked his head, looking down at him. “Can I invite a female friend of mine this time?”
He had raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong with only me?”
“Don’t be silly. She just has different equipment. Trust me, you’ll like her.”
He did.
Yoongi liked her very much, especially when she leaned down and wrapped her lips around his spent cock, fuck, clearly taught by someone very skilled, probably the one who also leaned down to nudge her slightly. She retreated, focusing only on the tip, and Yoongi gasped as he felt two tongues on him, one lapping at the sensitive head, saliva dripping all over the slit and the underside, the other on the rapidly hardening length, sliding down, taking one of his balls in his mouth, Yoongi shuddering at the sight of those long fingers with silver rings sneaking between soft thighs to find wetness, a whimper around the head of his cock as fingertips pressed against a slick clit, rubbing gently. Not to be bested, she reached between those powerful thighs, gripping that semi-hard cock, and began pumping it roughly.
Holy shit.
If he hadn’t just came, Yoongi was quite sure he would have blown his load at the sight alone.
A woman and man all over him, two tongues on his cock, wet and dripping, so much sensation, so much pleasure, watching them try to get each other off at the same time and she was losing, of course she was, her body shuddering at the swift, precise stimulation of her clit, hand stopping around that thick, hard cock, fuck, looked so fucking good in her hand, and she pulled back, gasping for air, clutching the sheets, viscous juices sliding down her shaking inner thighs, whining against Yoongi’s thigh as the other mouth closed in, taking both of Yoongi’s balls in his mouth now, what the fuck, both at once, tongue everywhere, stimulating him all over, his own cock smacking wetly against that cheekbone and black hair, dark, dark eyes smirking at him, witnessing his sinful ecstasy.
“You’re evil, fuck…”
Those mauve lips popped off his balls and grinned like the devil.
Yoongi did not and would not ever regret kissing this man.
The things that happened in that head of his? Yoongi never understood it, but he wanted it, waiting patiently as he rolled the condom down on Yoongi’s cock and positioned his female friend over him, reverse cowgirl – damn, she had a nice ass – his brief moment of admiration cut short as her tight, wet pussy sank down on him, clamping down his stiff length and his cock responded in kind, getting harder and harder, sinking into that vice, her voice shaking but still spitting sparks.
“This isn’t going to work, oh God…”
She leaned back, her back against Yoongi’s chest, and he pushed her further, wrapping his arms around that body and squeezing her tits – mmm, very soft, he approved – and then he saw what was going on, that smirk between her legs and his legs, nails digging into her thighs as that long tongue extended and slapped her clit wetly, lapping at it as she moaned, Yoongi instinctively pinching her nipples and turning her moans even more wanton, not even caring that his cock was only partway in because she was still so tight, her hands gripping her ankles to avoid squirming too much as her clit and nipples were assaulted, so Yoongi did the most logical thing he could think of.
He thrust his hips up.
“F-Fuck!”
He clenched his jaw and fucked her from below, a little awkward, a little erratic, but it didn’t matter, that smirk retreating, replaced by fingertips of a silver-ringed hand, rubbing fast and hard, crawling up to hover above their bodies, so clearly in control that he didn’t have to say anything at all, simply rose above them and forcing her to cum repeatedly on Yoongi’s cock by abusing her clit, making them both moan, Yoongi from the pulsating massage of her punishing orgasm and her from those fingertips on her most sensitive spot, the other hand coming up to cup her chin, leaning in sweetly, a long, almost chaste kiss if it wasn’t for Yoongi fucking her roughly from below at the same time.
The other male backed up, strings of saliva following, the breathless whine of the woman in his wake, irritation and desire in her voice.
“I hate you.”
That smirk returned, long tongue flickering between teeth. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m thinking about it, I swear.”
Yoongi started a little as the weight shifted on the bed, the hand between their legs leaving, and now the other male let Yoongi have more control, thrusting up from below and she rolled her hips into him to meet his movements, extending the stroke, making it better. Yoongi wasn’t surprised. She must be good if she was friends with him.
A shadow cast over his peripheral vision and Yoongi turned his head, freezing, suddenly face-to-face with dark, dark eyes and mauve lips swollen from use.
“I love seeing your face, Yoongi,” he murmured.
In those eyes, Yoongi knew he could feel however he wanted without shame.
“Kiss me.”
That mouth on his, soft and lovely and comforting, and Yoongi leaned into it, slowing down slightly, but she seemed to understand, riding him slowly as the kiss lasted, tongue sliding in, flickering between his lips, so soft, so gentle, making him want more, more, Yoongi furrowing his brows and gripping that plump ass on top of him and moving his hips again, trying to get more, but that mouth left him, drawing back with now shiny lips from his kiss. Yoongi clicked his tongue sharply, not bothering to hide his annoyance, but the other male simply smirked, messy black waves framing the left side of his face and leaving his undercut visible, his body rising.
“I like your blue hair. It’s such a nice shade of slate blue.”
He felt his neck heat. “Shut up.”
That wide smirk with that flash of dimple that only seemed to show around Yoongi.
“No, you.”
And he shoved his dick into Yoongi’s lips.
He sucked in a breath, wrapping his mouth around the long thick length, shivering as that ringed hand cradled his head and thrust a few times, not letting Yoongi have control by his tongue. He frowned around that girth, glaring up at him, but those dark eyes reflected only amusement, ruffling his hair.
His scalp tingled all the way down his spine and to his core.
“I just need a little wetness, thanks.”
You–
But before Yoongi could protest in any way, his pulled his cock out, saliva splattering on Yoongi’s chin as he backed up, Yoongi sputtering, you asshole, followed by a knowing laugh, yeah, he is, and now the other male was straddling both their bodies, one hand on the headboard and the other now wrapping around his cock, silver rings gleaming, the swollen red head peeking out between long fingers, covered with Yoongi’s spit and centimeters away from shaking tits.
“You wouldn’t,” she growled.
The three silver coin necklaces dangled down, jingling ominously.
“I would.”
Yoongi sucked in a breath as he watched that hand begin to move, stroking his cock over bouncing tits as Yoongi rolled his hips up into that tight pussy, the squelching sounds so wet that they were loud and audible, his spit on that cock, his cock fucking her hole, gaze shifting and finding dark orbs looking back down at him, holding his bed and fucking his hand, panting, and finally Yoongi saw the satisfaction on that face, pleased that he was orchestrating this, delighted that he had made him and his female friend orgasm before himself, something cruel yet powerful about the fact that his own orgasm would be from his own hand, hand covered in silver rings gripping tight, tight like the velvet walls around Yoongi’s cock moving in and out, out of that haunting gaze and staring back at that beautiful cock wrapped in long fingers and silver rings glistening with saliva, visibly twitching, closer, closer, closer.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi, you’re so good, fuck!”
Yoongi wished he could speak, but he could not, his helpless attempt ending in a choked gasp as his stiff length was brutally massaged and clenched by harsh tightness, sending him over the edge, tumbling with a hoarse groan as he spilled into the condom, his cock jerking and shuddering, shooting sparks of electric ecstasy through him and her, their moans in unison, depraved and lewd, and above them, a dark chuckle, smug, confident, overpowering.
“Heh.”
It was absolutely infuriating.
A sharp hiss and white strings shot all over her chest, streaking all over her tits, clinging to her skin, painting it with cum, directed between measured pants, his hand shoving the head onto her hard nipple and she whimpered, looking up at him with Yoongi as he pushed the sensitive nub around with the throbbing, slick, purple-red tip.
“Mmm,fuck, yes, so nice…”
Dark, dark eyes looked down at them, the man named Dionysus on Twitter reflecting his namesake with his toned, picturesque body poised over them like a god.
“You… are crazy…” she panted.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he is,” Yoongi agreed, chest tight, still trying to catch his breath.
He grinned.
“You two like it.”
The fingers of his left hand dipped down.
“Open your mouth.”
He didn’t specify who.
They both opened their mouths.
He covered his fingers with his own cum, the thick white liquid clinging onto his skin, silver rings glinting in the bedroom light, scooping it off her tits, and pushed them into her waiting mouth.
“Suck.”
She sucked his cum off his hand. Loud. Noisy. Swallowing.
After she finished, he pulled his fingers out with a sharp pop, gathering more, collecting his orgasm over her skin, her soft moans vibrating through Yoongi from her core, coating his fingers with it and raising his hand.
Yoongi’s mouth was still open.
The other male shoved his fingers and his cum into Yoongi’s lips.
He looked up into those dark orbs, seeing the pleasure he was giving, running his tongue over those fingertips, not needing to be ordered, already knowing, sucking it off those long digits, slipping his tongue in between them drinking the satisfying saltiness, staring into darkness full of excessive pleasure, and he knew he was safe, safe to do whatever and be whoever to those eyes, trusting probably a little too much, but he didn’t care, not at all.
Yoongi was going to live however he wanted and no one could stop him.
-
“I’m going to need a thousand-year nap, you asshole. Of course, you would find another perfect dick in this world. I can’t believe I agreed to this and I need a shower, jeez.”
“See you next time,” was the smirk’s response.
She looked furious as she slammed Yoongi’s front door shut.
“Nice friend.”
“She’s very nice. I like her a lot.”
Sometimes Yoongi would look at that back tattoo and then he would catch him watching, small smile on those mauve lips. He never said anything though. He just looked at it and the other male watched Yoongi, smiling at him. Those rare dimples sometimes appeared, but only with Yoongi. There were a lot of people in this world, good, bad, and in between, and there was him, the man named Dionysus on Twitter, just a person.
Just a person.
Just a person Yoongi admired because he lived how he wanted, inspiring Yoongi that he, too, could live how he wanted, so he did and spent these moments with that smirk and those silver rings.
apparently I have an unofficial zombie au living purely in drabbles lol
OT7 plus you worry about what to do next. Jungkook reveals what’s on his mind. When night falls, the dead thrive and the living reflect.
warnings: language, violence (zombie blood, dead bodies, mentions of zombie eating flesh and humans turning), angst (at the undead situation), fluff / comfort, continuation of thisandthis
pairing(s):yoongi x reader
–
“If we carry the cans, it’ll slow us down but, if we don’t, we might run out of food. There might be a trolley or cart somewhere around here…”
“A shopping cart? Like homeless people?” Kim Seokjin sounded mildly offended.
You shrugged. “I mean, we are homeless. For the time being.”
Silence.
Seven sullen faces looking down.
Outside, night had fallen.
Around them was blood, but no bodies. The others tried to clean the blood, but you told them it was better to leave it.
“Why?”
“Harder for them to smell the fresh meat.”
“W… What?”
“Us.”
You weren’t sure if that’s how these zombies worked but cleaning up the blood was fruitless anyway. It would only soil cloth and every resource was precious in times like this. You all had dragged the second-time dead outside, far away from the hanger door of the main warehouse, towards the next warehouse over. Best you could do with the time restraints before it was fully night. Hopefully, there would be no undead visitors before dawn. If there were, they would be attracted to the readily available dead meat.
Eat that first.
Zombies don’t discriminate.
The thought made your stomach churn uncomfortably.
You coughed, trying to clear the deflated air. “We can try and search tomorrow. Then we’ll move on the next day, try to find a new location. We can’t be sitting ducks.”
A small, tentative hand rose. “Shouldn’t we stay in one spot? The police will come eventually, right?” Park Jimin asked.
You scratched your head. “It will most likely be military and they will probably shoot anything that moves. They’re trying to contain the horde. They’re not gonna wait to see if we’re coherent.”
“You don’t know that,” Kim Namjoon insisted. “They might.”
“They’re scared,” you said softly. “Maybe you can trust the men in charge, but the soldiers? They’re just like you and me. They don’t understand what’s going on. If we run into military patrolling and one of them freaks out and shoots one of you dead, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Namjoon sighed. Heavy, weighted.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, frowned. “Then we have to avoid them. Can’t trust them.”
You didn’t know these guys. Not really. But you weren’t going to let them die in your watch either. Not because you were noble. Mostly because you had witnessed enough death of the undead already.
You really did not want to see the death of the living.
“Maybe the government has set up safe houses for survivors. We should look for one of those.”
You were surprised that it was Jung Hoseok who said what you were thinking. He gave everyone a small, heart-shaped smile as they looked at him. He shrugged.
“I saw it in a movie.”
“All of our knowledge is from fucking movies and video games,” Min Yoongi muttered behind you, sighing. He rubbed his temple. “We’re so fucking dead.”
“No.”
Kim Taehyung, who has been silent for most of the discussion, shook his head, dark brown waves of thick hair floating with his movement.
“Not yet, so we’re not gonna act like it.”
You nodded.
“Okay, first watch, two people. Everyone else sleeps. Then we switch after a couple hours.”
-
“I can’t sleep.”
“Yes, you can. I can help.”
Min Yoongi held up his fist.
The youngest scooted away from him and sat down next to you on your other side. He pulled up the black bandana over his nose and you heard him wince.
“It stinks.”
“Stinks more out here than in the office.”
The rest of the group were sleeping in the administrative office of the factory. Yoongi and you were sitting outside the hall of the offices, facing the open warehouse of abandoned assembly lines, watching the large, open hanger door. There was no electricity. Maybe you could try to manually close it, but then that would block a potential escape route.
And you all needed every escape route you could get.
Moonlight filtered though, lighting Yoongi’s pale skin and Jeon Jungkook’s bright brown eyes.
“You should try to rest, Jungkook,” you whispered gently. “You might be the only coordinated person here,” you added with a small chuckle.
Jungkook shook his head, long black fluffy hair drifting about. “You’re here now, noona. You’re pretty good.”
“Pfft, I’m about as strong as a wet noodle.”
“The zombies are like soggy noodles left too long in soup. You’re more al dente.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. You could tell by Jungkook’s sparkling brown eyes and shaking shoulders that he was trying to contain his laugh.
“Yoongi, gimme your fist.”
“Got you.”
Jungkook put up his hands, calling for peace.
“I just wanted to talk a little. Then I’ll sleep. Promise.”
Both you and Yoongi cocked an eyebrow in disbelieving unison. Jungkook lowered his bandana to show off his pout. The little mole under his lip was barely visible. He pulled it back up when Yoongi sighed in defeat, settling back down.
“I wanted to ask… how you guys met.”
“Tinder.”
“Amanda.”
“I stole his coffee order and he chased me for three blocks.”
“I was her cat and then I turned into a man by voodoo witch magic and then we had sex while she contemplated whether or not she was a furry.”
You jerked your head to Yoongi’s weirdly specific joke and weren’t quite sure if he was on crack cocaine or had a really imaginative mind. He stared back with a deadpan look.
Jungkook blinked at your obviously (right?) fake explanations.
“What?”
You coughed up the truth. “Kim Seokjin. He’s friends with my friends and my friends set me up on a date and Seokjin pretended he needed Yoongi to help him with something, but dumped him at the restaurant and bounced. So, we ate dinner.”
“Then we went back to her place and had sex.”
You gawked at Yoongi.
He didn’t blink.
“For something around three days. My phone died. Forgot to charge it. Didn’t realize what was going on until the power flickered at her place and we turned on the TV and saw this mess.”
Yoongi gestured to the blood around them.
Jungkook’s eyes were huge like dinner plates.
He was still trying to process that you two had sex for three days. Maybe he thought it was continuous or something. It wasn’t. You two took lots of naps, but Jungkook didn’t know that. You almost added that caveat, but decided against it. Whatever. Let him think Yoongi was a sex god.
He kind of was.
You smirked slightly, but quickly composed yourself.
Jungkook seemed confused, impressed, and slightly jealous.
Yoongi continued, pretending not to notice Jungkook’s expression. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I arrived late. I was busy doing important things.”
“Person, rather.”
Yoongi nodded sagely at your addition.
“Yup. Taehyung’s map was also shit.”
“Could have used more words and descriptions.”
“We had to make it quickly,” Jungkook piped up. “There were a bunch of zombies and hysterical people. Everyone was screaming. Namjoon-hyung and Hoseokie-hyung were trying to direct them to safety but…”
You saw a darkness fall over his face.
Sadness.
“I… watched them turn. In front of me.”
Jungkook scooted closer to you even though you were a literal stranger and not his hyung. Like he needed a human presence, easily trusting you, because how could he not? Who else was there to trust?
Everyone else around you was dead or worse.
“I had to kill them,” Jungkook whispered, his previous cheerful silvery tone trembling, muffled by the bandana. He placed his head against your shoulder. He was bigger, stronger, more muscular than you, but he seemed small now.
A little hollow.
“Minutes before they were living, breathing human beings…” he mumbled. “And then they weren’t.”
Fucking shit.
Yoongi sighed beside you, moving closer to you and Jungkook.
“Until then, I thought it was kind of like a game… like they weren’t real people, you know?” His voice was becoming smaller and smaller. Guilt. Despair. “But they were. I saw them.”
The youngest lowered his eyes by your neck and buried his face in the crook of your shoulder.
“I killed as many as I could until I couldn’t take it anymore and begged the hyungs to leave.”
You felt small drops of wetness on your skin.
“I’m not strong, hyung… noona… but you all say I am, so I keep trying…”
I can’t sleep.
These were kinds of things he couldn’t tell his closest friends, not directly. Friends relying on him to fight, to be their light, to be their youth to keep them going and remind them to fight for his tomorrow. But in you, the safety of a stranger, the safety was someone not quite yet aware of their reliance on his strength…
I can’t sleep.
Yoongi wasn’t there. He didn’t know.
There was safety in that too, his close friend who didn’t know. Yoongi hadn’t started leaning on him yet. He had been relying on you. You and your crazy ideas and your video game references mid-fight to distract his head and your head from reality.
I can’t sleep.
You placed a hand on his hair and felt Yoongi shift and put one of his hands on Jungkook’s head too. You patted the soft black hair, rubbing soothing circles into his scalp. Yoongi spoke quietly, stroking the younger man’s head.
“Hyung and noona are here now. We are strong together.”
summary: Min Yoongi will always be the one. The one on top, the one above all others, the one who has a space in your heart. Sometimes, Yoongi questions it. You have to remind him that no one commands you like he can, and he reminds you that no one can take you from him.
yes, I have been planning this ever since I released ‘headspace’. happy birthday Yoongi! <3 I would have pretty words for you, but I literally write smut about you, so how about you notpractice your English here because I know you’re secretly fluent. I’ll give you the ‘I-love-you’ speech some other time XD
–
“I’m here.”
You felt his fingers trail down your exposed arms, drumming down your skin. He took your hands, tracing your silver rings, humming satisfyingly. A familiar view, a fair skinned wrist with silver chain bracelets. He curled his long fingers around yours, caressing the inside of them. You could smell his cologne, scarcely sweet and musky woods, just a hint here and there, wisps that seemed almost imaginary.
“To remind you that you’re mine.”
His grip tightened around your wrists.
A swift pull, spinning you around in your computer chair, tearing you away from the keyboard. Fluffed black hair, brushing against dark brown, cat-like eyes. A pensive smile and two silver hoops on each ear. All black, turtleneck, leather jacket, slacks. Your favorite.
Your shadow.
Min Yoongi.
“I… I can explain.”
The smile turned into a smirk.
“No need.”
He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them, unforgiving metal of the rings digging into both your hands. Leaned down, pushing your rolling chair into your desk so it stopped, husky voice against your chin. He stroked one of your silver rings, spinning it around your index finger.
“Yoongi…”
He purred your name, drawing it out syllable by syllable, letting it slowly assault your ears. Your skin tingled as he pulled you up, your loose black t-shirt too thin, feeling far too much as he tugged you to him, his inescapable gravity and wicked smirk.
“You smell different today,” he murmured, your bare legs brushing against his slacks.
You did smell different. Like burning wood and roasted sweet chestnuts, a new scent you found that instantly attracted you. That’s how you were. You encountered things and you immediately loved them, intensely, addictively, forever.
Just like Min Yoongi.
“Mmm.”
His hand traveled under the hem of your shirt, grabbing your thigh and sinking his fingers into it with a soft hiss. You bit your lip, closing your eyes, falling into the touch, letting it consume you. There were not a lot of things that could make you give in, but you believed in your instincts and trusted them. Your instincts always told you where to go, what to do, who to go to. With one glance, you could pinpoint if you would like something or not, even in unfamiliar territory. Your instincts always guided you to your loves. The things you loved always became significant, always changed your life, always had your devotion through time, space, and dreams.
They became obsessions and they never stopped.
Yoongi buried his face into your neck and inhaled, moaning softly.
“Smells so good. Warm. Like a comforting memory,” he mumbled.
“Reminded me of you.”
And it had. The second you smelled it; memories of his embrace had blanketed around you.
He lifted his head and his eyes were on yours. Half-lidded, plagued by dark circles, the loveliest black-brown in the whole world. You normally hated eye contact, but not in this space, not with him. Your hands slid under his leather jacket, wrapping around his waist. Yoongi leaned in, kissing you once more, pressing your body to his, leather and softness. He reached into his jacket and possessively tucked one of your hands in his.
“Sometimes,” he muttered against your lips. “Sometimes I think I don’t have your love.” His fingers caressed yours as you kneaded his waist underneath the turtleneck. “Do you not want me around anymore?”
A small smile drifted onto your lips. You reached up with your free hand and tugged the collar of your t-shirt down, revealing your silver necklaces.
“You’re always with me.”
Yoongi’s dark eyes traveled down your neck, to the first one, seeing the tiny circular overlapping pendants. His name etched in the lower one, his birthstone set in the upper one. A tiny, contented smile. The others were a tangle of chains and charms, but Yoongi was the one who mattered most, so he was on top.
Always on top.
“What if you lose that?” he teased.
You chuckled. “So what? I could lose everything I own, but I would still love you, Yoongi.” You placed your forehead against his. “My head could be full of someone else, but there is always a space in my heart for you.”
The things you loved.
They are always and forever.
He raised his hand and placed a single fingertip in between your collarbones. Your spine tingled, scalp prickling as he slid it up your neck, lips parting as he watched it travel over your skin, up your chin and onto your plush lips, nail snagging on the softness.
“Such lovely words, but this mouth can do such dirty things,” Yoongi breathed, the side of his curving upwards playfully. You quirked your eyebrow and opened your mouth, licking the tip of his finger with your tongue, smiling around it.
“I can have pure feelings and a filthy mind.”
Yoongi cocked his brow to match yours, smirk widening to reveal his white teeth. “And you certainly do. I have no idea how your mind works.”
And then before you could respond, Yoongi shoved two fingers into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue. You chuckled, wrapping your lips around them, sucking daintily, tongue swirling, slipping between them, drawing figure-eights. His eyes on you, darkening, darkening, the sparks of desire stroked to black flame, burning intensely as you placed the tip of your tongue all the way down to the skin where his two fingers connected, down to his knuckles, his fingers almost down your throat.
“You have such a tiny mouth,” he purred. “Astounded that my cock can fit in there.”
Yoongi pulled his fingers out and you gasped, strings of saliva dripping down and snapping against your chin. There was something about his expression, not trying to trick you, not trying to seduce you, simply aware of what he was going to do and that he was going to do it. There was no one to stop him.
In fact, you patiently awaited it.
His free hand closed on the hem of your pajama shirt and slipped under, pushing your panties to one side and shoving his wet fingers into your pussy.
“Ah, Y-Yoongi!”
He smiled, sliding his fingers in and out, and you raised one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, one hand on his shoulder, moaning as he rubbed the inside of your walls, feeling all of you, watching your face the entire time, your pussy throbbing at the knowledge of being observed so intently. His other hand snuck up your back, drawing patterns on the thin black fabric, hardly a barrier from his touch, and then he traveled further up, running his fingers through your hair, tangling them at the base and yanking back, neck exposed, your moans deepening, saturated with lust, the pace of his fingers inside you increasing. You clenched around them, breath hitching at the pricks of pain, viscous juices soaking his hand and coating his knuckles. Yoongi leaned forward, inhaling your scent once more.
“Cum for me,” he purred, teeth on your neck, nipping lightly, pinches of red marks.
Pulling a little harder, thrusting a little deeper, sucking on the space in between your collarbones, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, whimpering as the sensitive skin was bitten and the insides of your walls roughly rubbed, grinding into his hand to stimulate your clit and it was too hot, too much, pushing you over the edge.
“Oh, fuck, Yoongi…”
Pussy clamping around his digits, pulsating violently, your juices sliding down the back of his hand and his palm, covering him with you. A short reprieve, Yoongi letting you ride the high, sighing in satisfaction as he felt your walls shiver with the aftershocks. His other hand released your hair and you panted hard, tipping your head back up, only to be forced to raise your arms as Yoongi yanked your shirt up. You pulled it over your head, shaking your hair out, now wild and messy. He snapped a finger on your black bra strap, impatient expression telling you to take it off. You undid it with one hand and, as soon was it fell to the floor, Yoongi ripped his fingers out of you. You yelped at the suddenness, abruptly turning into a moan as Yoongi took his slick fingers covered in your cum and smeared them over your breasts, circling around your hard nipples, pinching them in between his slippery touch.
“Fuck, I love these nipples,” Yoongi muttered, dipping his head down to your chest, breathing in the scent of your orgasm. “So fucking big and soft and hard, all at once.”
He wrapped his lips around one and sucked off your juices with a moan, cleaning up his mess by licking all over your breasts. He placed his two wet fingers around the other, pinching and tugging on it, trailing his tongue up and down, up and down, matching pace, drenching your skin with his saliva before collecting it all back up and circling the sensitive hardened nub with the wetness, flicking his tongue against it, gentle, intense, continuous, until you were shaking and shivering against him.
Your hands came up and held his head, pushing back his black hair, moaning as you ran your fingers through it, over and over, his large hands pressing your tits together and playing on your nipples with his lips and fingers, sucking hard.
There were a lot of words in this world and none of them could describe exactly how Yoongi made you feel, like he could set everything on fire while also being the water rushing through you, burning and drowning, his brown orbs looking up at you, silent, but clear with his lust, reflecting you in his eyes.
A mirror, so akin to you.
And yet not, because he was Min Yoongi.
His other hand fitted in the curve of your back, forcing you to arch more, trailing his tongue over your chest, humming at your soft cries.
“You always look so good no matter what I’m doing to you,” he mused, lazily licking off your other nipple.
“It’s because you’re the one doing it,” you panted, shivering as he blew on your wet skin.
“Hm, I don’t think so. I think you’re just hot as hell.”
He kissed up your chest, on your lips once more, sighing softly, your sharp sweet taste on his lips, both hands on your breasts, pinching your nipples with his knuckles. You whined into his mouth, and he shushed you with rough kisses as he rubbed them just as roughly, pain and pleasure, working you until you were breathless, gasping, pleading for more. He chuckled, releasing them, earning a frantic whimper, his mouth still pressed to yours. You heard him shrug off the leather jacket, dumping it on the chair. Nudging you forward to the bed, staying in stride with you, and you, grip on his turtleneck, yanking it out of his slacks, his smirk against your smirk.
“What if,” Yoongi murmured, hands enveloping yours, tracing your silver rings. “One of my rings was here?” Tapping your left ring finger, mischievous spark underneath his lashes.
“Do I get to put one here?” you teased, sliding one between his and wrapping it around his left ring finger.
“Ah, they should match, shouldn’t they?”
You grinned, tumbling onto the bed and dragging him with you, Yoongi quirking an eyebrow, tone rich and deep as he continued.
“You like white gold or platinum?”
You tugged his turtleneck up and off his head, letting it fall to the floor, running a hand through his fluffed black hair as you mused.
“I’ll let you pick,” you purred. “And then I can pick one.”
“For where?”
“For here.”
Yoongi sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes and mouth at you, cheeks puffing a little, but there was no mistaking the amusement in his words.
“At least service him before you start putting him in prison.”
You unlatched your grip on his clothed cock.
“What am I, but of service?"
He watched your tongue trace your lips as you slid down, unbuttoning his slacks, zipper being teased down, a pleased smile growing as his clothes were tugged off, crumpling to the floor.
"Let me help you,” Yoongi drawled as you lowered your head, calm hands gathering your hair to a long ponytail, winding it around his palm before turning his hand around, fitting his hold to the back of your head. You raised an eyebrow at his smirk.
“It’s going to be like that?”
His eyes darkened, black hair falling over them.
“You love it like that.”
That’s true. Familiar words came back to you, almost like a mantra.
What if you live like that?
Tongue sliding out, licking him all over, dripping saliva down his length, his cock already hard and insistent against your lips, hot and trembling, pleading for attention, but you nuzzled past, wrapping your lips around one of his balls and swirling your tongue around it, listening to his deep moan, smokey and raspy, your name mixed with his sounds of appreciation, hand firm on the back of your head. You switched sides, back and forth, sucking one as you licked the other, accompanied by loud slurps that made Yoongi’s hips jerk, euphoric gasps filling your room.
“Fuck, that’s a dangerous mouth…” he hissed. “You could make anyone fall for you with your mouth alone.”
You snaked your tongue along his stiff length, side to side, tracing the contours with your wet muscle, finally coating the tip with a thick layer of warmth, seeing Yoongi watch you with hunger, his long fingers pressed into your scalp.
“Down,” he growled.
You obeyed.
Swallowing it all, all the way to the base, his cock twitching in your mouth. Yoongi gasped sharply, holding you down, your throat constricting around the head, barely able to breathe, but you were in Yoongi’s hands now.
Your favorite pair of hands to command you.
“Fuck…fuck…”
He tilted his hips and you fell on your side, silver necklaces jangling, steadying yourself with your elbow. Slow but forceful, sliding out and pushing back in, moaning softly as he fucked your face, your hands in his sides, nails digging in, whining around his thickness, pushing your tongue against the bottom to make it tighter, better, his strong taste coating your mouth, so good your mind was a bit hazy from it or was it the intensity of his thrusts that was leaving you breathless?
You tensed your throat muscles and Yoongi chuckled, breathing hard.
“You sure you haven’t practiced on someone else? You’re too good at this, fuck…”
It was impossible to reply, think, or breathe, clawing at his back, rocking your body with his, your own power intoxicating you, knowing Yoongi was close to his end by the increased speed and roughness, grip on your head unforgiving, bouncing you back and forth with the force of his hips, your wet lips smacking his balls and crotch, the head repeatedly burying itself in your throat, stretching it out just like how Yoongi would stretch you out soon.
“Fuck, I know you love it when I use your mouth like this,” he snarled.
I do. I love all the things you do to me.
He clenched his jaw and a grating hiss fell from his lips, thrusting deep and spilling down your throat, you whimpering as you swallowed hurriedly, hands splayed over his back and ass, holding him there so you could drink it all, tongue pressed along his length to feel his cock throb with every spurt of cum painted down your throat. There was no time to think about breathing, completely dazed by his strong taste and the forced manner that you had to consume his orgasm, visceral and obscene.
“Time for your other hole.”
You drew back, gasping for air, hair cascading around you as Yoongi let go, taking advantage of your hazy state clawing for oxygen. You barely registered him pushing you down to the sheets, hands and knees, ass up and ready, his own hands on your hips to peel your wet pussy lips apart, watching your glistening opening flexing, the reaction both your muscles and your desire.
Waiting for him.
Wanting him.
“Mmm, my pretty pussy,” he purred possessively.
Your body already knew what to do even if your mind was still trying to catch up. He took the condom from your shaking, outstretched hand and ripped it open. You didn’t have to wait long. He leaned forward. The swollen, hot head pressed against your opening. Not moving, chest against your back.
“Yoongi,please…” you gasped hoarsely.
“Please what?”
This fucking tease. “Please… fuckme.”
His hand crawled up the sheets, deft fingers dancing, up your wrist, and onto your hand, your silver rings glinting in the low light. He placed his fingers in between yours, lips against your ear.
“My perfect plaything, aren’t you?”
A swift thrust and you were moaning, fingers closing in around his, suddenly so full and so deep that you saw white for a brief moment, but there was no time, no time as Yoongi slid back and slammed into you again, crotch to ass, untangling his hand from yours so he could right himself and fuck you hard, just the way you liked, just the way you needed.
“Mmm, what a beautiful back.”
You buried your face into the pillows, his fingernails scraping down your skin, sending shocks and stings all over you, helpless cries at his wonderful scratches, the exact pressure so that he left marks all over you but didn’t break skin, so good paired with his harsh thrusts, making you claw for the headboard, planting your hands on it and bucking back into his hard length, heightening the pleasure and mixing it with pain, Yoongi’s satisfied grunts behind you, necklaces jingling on your chest. Sensation, sound, emotion, all of it, building up inside, winding the coil, tighter, tighter.
Nothing else mattering but being fucked by Yoongi’s cock.
“This body is for me, isn’t it?” Yoongi growled, racking his nails down your back.
“Whenever you want, fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi!”
He kept going, the fire of your orgasm burning hot, crashing waves threatening to take you under, but still he gripped your hips and fucked you into the bed, the bed frame squeaks drowned out by the loud squelches of his rock-hard cock reentering you over and over again.
“That’s what I thought,” he snickered, leaning down and earning a wail, so deep it felt like he was hitting your cervix, the head swelling as your walls clenched around him. “No one can take you from me, isn’t that right?”
You responded automatically, your body once again responding quicker than your brain could, the answer always there, lingering in your mind, unwavering, pure instinct.
“No one.”
The words rushing out with ravenous conviction, nails curling into the headboard, so much forced pleasure, savoring in Yoongi’s roughness, pussy pulsating so strongly that you weren’t sure what was an orgasm and what wasn’t. All over you, through you, in you, clouding your mind and thoughts. Absolute precision, knowing exactly how to fill you, and you clenching him back, molding to him to deliver the pleasure he loved, primal needs being satisfied, everything feeling so good that you became lightheaded, and yet you still found yourself uttering between moans and gasps, declaration being ripped from you because of Yoongi’s perfect cock destroying you mentally and physically.
“It will always be you above all others, Yoongi.”
His fingers wrapped in your hair and yanked back, the sudden pain making you scream his name, liquid gushing down his cock and balls, thick and viscous, sticking to both your inner thighs. Your name falling from his lips, a half-moan, half-hiss, his entire length jolting inside you, filling the condom, and Yoongi rolled his hips into you once more, feeling it all, every contour of your pussy constricting around his throbbing cock.
“Fuck…”
Two voices that sounded like one, rough, grating, instinctive, matching in time. Sparks coursing through your veins, body shivering with the aftereffects, squeezing the remnants out of him. His hand reached around; strands still tangled in his fingers.
Yoongi cupped your chin roughly, caressing your skin.
“Above all others, hm?” he breathed, the depth of his voice soothing your thudding heart. Both of you sinking down into the bed, knees giving out, and he was still inside you, gripped tight by your stubbornness, his arms around your shaking body. You closed your eyes, Min Yoongi surrounding you, invading your space with his possessive embrace, his unavoidable presence, his inescapable hold, and you, a willing captive, letting him take over.
His lips against your ear, a familiar purr, your always and forever whisper.
who said people are animals of wisdom? for me, obviously, we are animals of regret people change, just as I’ve changed there is nothing permanent in the world everything is just a happening passing through
My blog is named after ‘People’ by Agust D, the only song that I’ve ever felt every word and every line, rapped and sang with that exact pitch and emotion, describe me. I’ve always wondered, these thoughts I have, will anyone ever be able to put them into words?
summary:Some things that are normal for most aren’t normal for you and Yoongi. He moved in and sleeps in the same bed with you, but still all you do is hold hands and kiss gently. Everyone has their own pace. Not everyone lives in the fast lane. There’s just… this nagging feeling. You have to be honest.
warnings: rated M (18+) - mentions of a previous physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; smut (penetrative sex); there’s so much fluff you might die; also RIP to their heads XD; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader
rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.
You retreated your hand from the tuft of hair sticking out of Yoongi’s black cap. He turned around and raised his eyebrows at you. You ended up apologizing before actually doing anything or even touching the little black tail in the opening of his hat. He adjusted the brim and gave you a weird look.
“Something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head.
“No, uh… I…” You struggled to find the words. “I almost touched you. I wasn’t sure if you were okay with that.”
Yoongi smiled a little. “It’s okay. I know you’re there. And I know it’s you.”
He was sitting right next to you at your computer in your bedroom. You had set up a station for him, the two of you in the corner, occupying two computers ninety degrees from each other. All you had to do was turn to the right and he was there. He turned to the left and you were there. It was kind of cramped and not ideal, but it had to do for now. Yoongi worked on music at home. Some things Yoongi could only do at the studio, but some things he could do at home. You found him a decent computer and some hand-me-down equipment and it was good enough.
Actually…
It was miles better than it was before. He was surprised when you asked him if he wanted to work on his music at home. It wasn’t permitted in Yoongi’s previous relationship. But you saw he lamented sometimes, recording demos on his phone and wishing he had some sort of setup to do some things. You didn’t understand the technical aspects, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? It had become a fun project and now Yoongi was sitting beside you.
Yoongi spied the images on your monitor. "What are you looking at?“
You turned back. "Apartments. I’m just trying to see if there’s something bigger, so you can have your own music studio at home.”
He bit his lip. “I can’t afford that right now.”
You understood that Yoongi often mentioned money because it was a topic of arguments with his ex-girlfriend. You hadn’t gone into this expecting Yoongi to be rich. In any case, it was better for him to invest in his music. You had already told him this, but habits take time to be broken. Thankfully, your work paid well even though it was mostly clerical duties. There were perks to having worked at the same company for a long time.
“It’s okay. I want a bigger space too."
"You mean you want your dance studio back?” he teased.
You felt your ears heat. “I can use the living room… anyway, I want you to be able to work in peace. I haven’t seen anything good though.”
“Mmm, well, this kind of thing takes time and luck.”
You turned your head to look at him and found his face next to your shoulder. A handsome profile. His eyes shifted to look at you. Something flitted in those dark brown eyes. The nagging feeling came back, tapping inside your ribcage, rattling impatiently. You looked away, back at your computer screen.
Yoongi said your name softly.
“Is something wrong?” His voice wavered. “Did I do something?”
“No, Yoongi,” you replied, still not looking at him. The frustration inside expanded. You knew you had to communicate. You couldn’t not. If you avoided it any longer, you would be growing the seeds of doubt and you wanted Yoongi to trust you. To do that, you needed to be honest.
“I’m horny.”
Silence.
“What?”
You jerked a little in your seat, moving away from Yoongi before raising your head to make eye contact. Your chest felt tight, ashamed, even though it wasn’t supposed to be embarrassing.
“I’m horny,” you repeated, rubbing your fist on your thigh. “I don’t want to pressure you because I know that topic might be delicate. I just…” You kept looking at those wide cat-like eyes and then looking away, heart beating fast and heat building faster. “I find that I can’t really look at you that long without thinking about it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Silence. You felt your stomach knot.
“I don’t remember the last time I had sex,” Yoongi murmured. “I don’t remember the last time I wanted it.”
Ah. Right. That would make sense. Of course, that’s how he felt. Also, you weren’t exactly sexy. The octopus dancing didn’t really get the guys, so to speak. You could handle yourself. It was fine. He was just so… You wanted Yoongi to feel good with your touch, wanted his heart to flutter the way yours fluttered, wanted to see him breathless with want.
There was a weight on your thigh.
You started, looking down, breath at your throat. You were wearing loose gray shorts and the matching sweatshirt. Not a sexy outfit to get your freak on. But you were staring at Yoongi’s hand, kneading the fabric and your leg underneath and the heat was rising, heart racing.
“I think I need a reminder…” he murmured. “A reminder on how good it feels to be loved like that.”
Yoongi lifted his head and you stared into his eyes.
He leaned forward and closed the distance, kissing you softly, and you breathed him in, fitting your hand over his, guiding it up, gentle touches, turning in your chair to face him, and he was turning to you, holding you close, your hands skimming over his t-shirt, not trying to get more, just wanting to show your want, just demonstrating how you would run your hands over his skin if there was no barrier, and he stood up, making you stand up.
And then your heads banged together.
“Ow!”
“Motherfuc–”
You swore and Yoongi clamped a hand over your mouth, rubbing his forehead and shaking his head.
“Don’t ruin this,” he winced, removing his hand.
“My brain feels rearranged,” was your woozy response, cursing the narrow space.
Yoongi took your hand and pulled you away from the computers, towards to the bed, the same bed you two slept on, but didn’t touch, not like this. You only held hands or kissed gently. Late at night, when Yoongi was fast asleep, you would stare at his profile and wonder if he felt the same passion you felt, but it was weird to watch him sleeping, so you looked away and stared at the ceiling instead, thinking about him and his body against yours.
And now it was, his arms around you, pressing you to his chest, kissing your lips, cheeks, closed eyelids, making you laugh a little. Your fingertips on his back, tracing patterns, his gasp against your skin, cap falling off and tumbling to the floor, his black hair brushing your forehead.
“T-Touch me more…” he murmured.
He took your forearms and pushed them down, sliding your hands under his white shirt and then it was skin on skin, a needy noise between you two. With burning ears, you realized that was you, Yoongi’s hands on your shoulders as you explored his back, fingertips dancing up his spine, his pants in your ear, and then his fingers in your hair, messing it all up, rolling his body into yours.
Hardness.
You gasped, raising your thigh to press against it, and his hands slid down, and you looked up to see his half-lidded eyes hazy with desire.
“I want to follow your lead, Yoongi,” you breathed. “Any time you want to stop, we can stop.”
He nodded, leaning down to kiss you, deeper this time, tongue sliding in and playing with yours, your hands exploring the contours of his back. His skin, so soft, so lovely, smelling the vanilla and patchouli body wash you used because you shared the same shower and he used all your products. You shared so much with him, but there were some things you couldn’t share. Not yet. Not until he gave you his sign that he was ready.
You never told Yoongi, I love you.
The most precious words used in this world, turned to a poison dagger to hurt him, so you never said it, not until he was ready to hear it, not until he wanted to hear it. You knew Yoongi knew. You would hold his hand, draw a heart in his palm, small things like that, and he knew. He’d squeeze your fingers and smile a little smile and that was enough.
Maybe you were tiptoeing too much, but it was impossible to tell, because everyone is different and not even Yoongi himself knew what trivial actions or words would bring back unpleasant memories. He had spent so long repressing them that it was hard to tell reality from fantasy. He didn’t know what to be afraid of because he tried so hard to make them disappear.
You drew a small heart on Yoongi’s shoulder blade and he gasped, pulling you closer.
“I… like when you do that…” he mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed.
“Draw hearts?” you questioned, tilting your head.
“Yeah… on my skin…”
And then Yoongi surprised you.
He backed up a little and pulled his shirt over his head, taking your hands and placing them on his chest, not saying anything, but you could see it in his eyes, I don’t look very good, and you pressed your fingertips to his chest, over his beating heart, looking up at him.
“You will always be perfect to me, Yoongi.”
He gave you a wistful smile, believing you and not at the same time. “You have weird taste.”
You drew a small heart over his, feeling him shiver at your touch. You grinned brightly. “That’s how you know I’m devoted.”
He chuckled, closing one eye, looking sheepish. You waited, letting him work through the emotion, trying not to put himself down, taking it for what it was. It was not an easy thing to do. You had to be patient. Yoongi took your hand and pulled you to the bed, a familiar environment.
“I want to make you feel good,” he said.
“You don’t–”
“I want to,” Yoongi reaffirmed, looking you in the eye, determination in his tone. “I want my hard work to be the reason you feel good.”
You shouldn’t say it. Well, maybe it will lighten the mood. You struggled internally and then leaned forward, placing the back of your hand near your mouth.
“Hard work is a weird way to refer to your dick,” you whispered closely.
Yoongi burst out laughing, gums flashing, raspy and full, shoving you onto the bed. You bounced, hands flapping about, grinning at you own joke as Yoongi grabbed the bottom of your sweatshirt, yanking it up and over your head.
“This and your bad habit of moving your head at the same time as me–”
“It means we’re in sync!”
“I don’t want a concussion every time we make out,” Yoongi shot back, pinning your arms down and hovering over you, exasperated smile on his face.
He was so close.
Your grin slowly deflated, realizing that he was shirtless and you were shirtless, and Yoongi had you pinned down, gazing down at you with dark eyes and that open-mouthed smirk that was also disappearing, realizing he was on top of you, realizing this wasn’t innocent, realizing he was about to do something that should be normal but was made abnormal to him.
“You don’t have to do it,” you said gently.
“I know.” He looked at you under his black hair, messy and flat from being under the hat, brown eyes and pink lips standing out on his fair-skinned face. “But I want to.”
You always thought that parts of life were boring. It would be easier to fast forward and skip it.
But not with Yoongi.
He leaned down and kissed you, a kiss that you wanted to pause and live in forever, him inhaling you, pressing deeply, hands releasing your arms and cradling your head, his kisses like stars, precious light that brightened your whole world. But you also wanted to press play, kissing him back, your hands caressing his sides, drawing small hearts on his skin, your own heart swelling with the electricity of touching the one you loved, not knowing until now how nice it was, the simple sensation of dancing your fingers up his back and back down, his gasps on your skin, kissing down, down the curve of your neck and the swell of your breasts, so focused that his eyes were screwed shut and his brows were furrowed.
“Yoongi…”
His eyes opened slowly and Yoongi looked up at you with shaking pupils. Scared he was going to fuck up.
“It’s just me. You know, the one who dances like an octopus.”
His expression seemed to relax, turning into ruefulness. “How could I forget?”
“Should I wiggle a bit to jog your memory?” you teased.
“Please don’t.”
Your remark seemed to have calmed him, returning to your breasts, slipping the straps down, kissing along the curve of the cup, slipping his tongue under experimentally to make you jump, heart racing once more, a small smirk on his lips as he reached behind you and unhooked it, releasing them from their prison.
“O-oh!”
You yelped when Yoongi pulled your bra down, kissing your nipple directly, tingles flaring from the kiss, leaving you breathless as his tongue danced out, licking gracefully, slow circles that made you clench your jaw and tighten your core to avoid arching your back to get more. Yoongi seemed to sense your urgency and added more pressure, closing his lips around it, and your hands flew up, holding his head as carefully as possible but holy shit, holy shit, Yoongi’s tongue on you was pure ecstasy and he was doing it for you, showing his love for you and that’s why it felt so good, that’s why it was so fucking nice.
“Ah, fuck, Yoongi…”
He kissed to the other side, murmuring your name against your skin, seeped with desire and affection, pushing your wet nipple with one finger as he kissed the other, two points of pleasure that flowed through you, your gasps turning to moans, his hands coming up and encircling yours, lacing your fingers with his and holding them, whispering, faint, nearly silent, vibrating your sensitive skin with his lips and breath.
And then you heard it.
His whisper right above your heart and you looked down, Yoongi’s eyes looking up at you.
Apologetic for taking so long.
“I love you.”
If someone paused the tape right now, took it out, and your life ended right there, you would be okay with that. If that was the last moment in this world, if that was all that was and time stopped, you would be content.
But it wasn’t.
Play.
You smiled down at him, trying to prevent your voice from shaking.
“I love you too, Yoongi.”
The most precious words in the whole world.
“Should I stop?”
Your eyes widened. “N-no! I mean… if you’re…” You stopped speaking, seeing the playfulness sparkling in those dark eyes, pleased to have tricked you, even if only for a second.
“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, lifting himself up to kiss you lightly. “I only wanted to see if you would be bothered.”
“I am very bothered,” you responded, peeved. “Hot and bothered, even.”
Yoongi lifted a brow, small amused smirk on his lips. “Come to think of it, me too.” He backed up and you lifted your chest, only to have Yoongi press down on your collarbones, worry flitting his face.
“What?”
“Don’t bonk my head.”
You grimaced. “I’m not a serial head bonker.” You lifted yourself up and Yoongi swung his head back, eyes flashing with mock fear. You pointed to the nightstand, rolling your eyes, and rummaged around in the drawer, feeling to the back and pulling out the small box.
“How old are those?”
Your cheeks flushed. “L-Last month!”
“You wanted to fuck me since last month?”
“N-No, obviously earlier, but I didn’t k-know if you ever wanted…” you trailed off, flapping your jaw, holding up said box, the condoms tumbling out. You panicked a little, not wanting him to think you were expecting too much, dropping the box and scrambling to collect the pile, the tip of your finger hitting the box at the exact spot that would cause it to fly off the bed and hit the wall.
You stared at it, betrayed.
Yoongi burst out laughing. “I can hear you talking to it,” he chuckled.
“I’m not saying anything!”
“You wanna fuck me?”
Your head snapped back, eyes widening. Yoongi tilted his head.
“Yes,” you blurted. “Well, yes, I mean, you’re so…” This was awkward. It didn’t used to be awkward but, also, you had never been this invested. Your eyes widened. You were invested in a person. Actually invested, invested in Min Yoongi. You looked up at him and he looked back curiously like a cat, not realizing your epiphany. Oh shit. Now this was even more weird.
Do something. Do something. Not that. Oh no, you’re doing it.
You held up the plethora of condoms. “Pick a card?”
Living alone made you too fucking weird.
“Aren’t they all the same?” Yoongi snickered.
You shifted, putting them back down on the bed. “Ahaha… right…” Your leg pressed against his and you jumped, startled. “You’re hard.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “When gorgeous tits are out, the human body reacts when there is attraction, even if you’re speaking nonsense.”
You blinked at him. “G-Gorgeous?”
Yoongi’s ears flushed pink and he reached over, ripping a condom off the others. “Y-Yeah…” He straightened, scooting back to between your legs, placing his hands on your shorts. “Ah… unless the mood is killed…”
“No,” you exclaimed, hands flying down to the waistband. “It is not. It is alive and well. Very well.”
Yoongi opened his mouth and shut it. Then he opened it again, smiling a little. “I’m beginning to think we are a bit strange.”
“it’s just because it’s the first time,” you rambled. “All first times are a bit strange.”
This wasn’t getting anywhere, so you yanked down your shorts and underwear at once, Yoongi gasping and snapping his head down as you kicked off your clothes, the sharp scent of your arousal suddenly very apparent. You felt your cheeks heat, unaware that you had such a strong reaction to Yoongi being above you, observing your wetness with round eyes, as if to say, I did that?
“Wow.” Yoongi raised his head, black bangs framing his beautiful eyes. “You’re stunning.”
Was it ever like this? Like every word was precious, every lyric in this song meaning more than the words themselves, like every single piece of the composition was perfect, special, everything pause-worthy, even the odd bits, you reaching up to cup his head, pulling Yoongi down for a kiss, him pushing his own pants down, sucking in a breath as your hand wrapped around him, moaning in his mouth, deepening the kiss, more erotic, more intense, his cock throbbing in your palm, getting harder by your touch, Yoongi whimpering in your mouth, backing off slowly, ripping the condom open, sliding it on, and you watching, oh, he’s beautiful there too.
“Thanks…?”
“… Uh, you’re welcome.”
You spoke out loud. Great.
“Do you need some prep?”
“Yoongi, please put it in before I say something stupid again–”
You cut yourself off as Yoongi pushed in slowly, both of you suddenly gasping at the sensation, you already wet enough because you had been thinking about this for so long, morning, night, morning, night, thinking about Yoongi, and if you could, if he was ready to have him inside you, filling you up, and it was happening, happening right now, sinking into you, looking into his eyes. And you could see the amazement, the wave of satisfaction that shimmered through his dark orbs, and the way Yoongi looked at you.
Like he was complete.
“I… oh, fuck…” His eyelids fluttered. “I might not be that good…”
“Are you kidding me, holy fuck, you feel fucking incredible,” you breathed, clenching around him, moaning softly at the perfection that was him, heart racing with every second. Your hands came up and held his cheeks, your breath hot and fluttering upwards. “You already feel so good, Yoongi. You can see it in my face, can’t you?”
His eyes searched yours, looking for the lie, the performance, but there was none, no need to lie when your hips were already slowly rocking into his, creating movement and pleasure, and he fell into the rhythm, complementing you. Your hands dropped and you put them over your head, grasping the pillows, letting out every cry and soft sound so Yoongi could hear and know this was the truth, your legs circling his slim waist. Yoongi bit his lip, breathing hard, whimpering a little.
“I mean… it’s been a while… and you feel too f-fucking good, oh fuck…”
You realized what he meant and you reached down with one hand, jolting as your fingertip touched your clit, rubbing it forcefully, shudders flying through you, gasping at your own stimulation, breasts pressing together, and Yoongi moaned, feeling you constrict and pulse around him, wetter, thrusting into you harder until there was a symphony of sound, heavy wanton breathing, slapping of skin on skin, chasing your climax as Yoongi chased his, eyes locked, almost there, almost there…
At the bridge.
Somehow you both knew the final chorus was coming.
“Yoongi…”
He breathed your name, drawing it out like the most precious word in this world.
You moaned deeply and it rushed through you, shooting up your torso and into your chest, an overwhelming pressure that took you under, making you throw your head back and gasp his name, pressing down on your clit to amplify every bolt of pleasure that made your muscles shake. Yoongi groaned, thrusting into you hard with his own gasp, cock jerking and shooting into the condom, surrounded by your suffocating embrace and you saw his eyes roll back a little, muscles in his arms tense, fingers bunching into the sheets, black hair sweaty and sticking to his face.
Hot breath mixing with yours, heavy pants of shared ecstasy.
“Whoa…”
His dark eyes flickered to yours, pupils blown out, blinking slowly as he exhaled. “W-What…?”
You felt your ears heat. “Oh… uh… it’s never been like that before. I’ve never felt… so much.”
A red flush bloomed over Yoongi’s cheeks. “Me neither…”
“Maybe we’re in love?” you offered lightheartedly.
A small smile grew on his lips. “Yeah, maybe.”
You began to raise yourself off the bed, but Yoongi put his hand on your collarbones quickly.
summary:Everyone has bad habits. Funnily enough, Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook happen to have the same one. It involves silver chains, leather collars, choking each other, and a girl with a single white contact and daddy issues. Fuckin’ daddy issues, man.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you dislike overabundant swearing, maybe skip this one; too many Marilyn Manson / Slipknot references; D/s threesome smut (fem reader, black leather collars and chain leashes, choking [note:yoonkook choke each other], so much saliva, scratching, visceral making out, spitting kink, m-receiving oral, handjob, voyeurism, cum-eating); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader x sub!Yoongi; shifts from third person > reader’s > Yoongi’s > JK’s POV
this is absolute depravity, don’t say I didn’t warn you but it isporn with feelings, you know me
–
now playing – bad habits by ed sheeran ft bring me the horizon
“What’s the most twisted thing you’ve ever done?”
“Choked Jungkook while he choked me as we both got jacked off at the same time.”
Park Jimin’s jaw dropped. An unceremonious amount of ramen plopped out of his fluffy lips and back into the pot below him. Jeon Jungkook choked on his. In fact, he actually flung himself away from the table at warp speed to hack out his windpipe at the sink.
Min Yoongi calmly chewed on his crispy pork belly.
Jimin – sweet, lovely, soft-cheeked Jimin with bedhead hair and swollen pink lips from the spice of his food – blinked very slowly at Yoongi and laughed nervously, jerking his head to Jungkook, whose entire head was in the sink to avoid being looked at, back to Yoongi, who slurped up a large amount of his own noodles and did not elaborate on his previous statement.
The unease was so palpable that one could sink their teeth into it.
Yoongi’s dark brown eyes slowly raised from his meal, staring at Jimin with unsettling focus.
“You’re joking… right, hyung?” he awkwardly chuckled, probably unsure if his ears were broken or if he was in the Twilight Zone. Maybe Jimin was still dreaming. Any of those three would be a sane explanation because surely, surely, he was mistaken. He hadn’t heard correctly, right?
“Right,hyung?” Jungkook sputtered from the sink, finally emerging, red-faced from choking.
Physically or mentally remained to be known.
Yoongi tilted his head and shrugged.
-
You tilted your head.
Licked your teeth slowly and watched him shiver under your gaze.
“You know what I love?”
You collected saliva on the tip of your tongue and stuck it out, letting it drip into his open mouth, listening to him swallow with a greedy moan. You grinned, waiting for those beautiful dark chocolate eyes to open again. Glistening silver bar by his furrowed brow, gleaming silver ring at the edge of those pink shaking lips that were already asking for more, wordless whine and imploring gaze.
You lowered so you were eye to eye, teasingly licking the mole underneath his lower lip.
He whimpered, pleading you with your name.
“Depravity,” you purred, low and rough, drawing out the syllables, chewing on the density of the word, winding back up like a snake, bringing the silver chain with you. Yanked on it, hard, and his head snapped back, the heavy black leather collar slapping into the sides of his neck.
A loud, visceral sound.
Jeon Jungkook moaned again, intoxicated by your power.
He was a real good boy outside of the bedroom. You heard he was quite an upstanding guy. Diligent, hard worker. Went to work on a fairly normal schedule. Always said please and thank you. Never got into much trouble other than innocent, cute mischief that made him well-liked by his peers.
Then Jungkook would come to you.
Nervous, awkward, unsure around your crowd.
But needy.
So very needy that he forgot to be embarrassed or weirded out as he was surrounded by a crowd of people in black – leather, fishnets, vinyl, too much eyeliner and dark lipstick. They always hung around for some reason or another. Work. Smoking. Loitering because the owner didn’t give a fuck. Jungkook would sit and wait and you would come out of work to see him surrounded by your kind, standing around him.
A black cocoon protecting a rather plainly dressed caterpillar.
“I came to see you but you were busy… they said I should stay and wait,” he would mumble, not quite looking at anyone, but there was too much want in his system, too much desire to run away, too much greed.
He looked up and you saw that he enjoyed it.
He liked the eyes on him.
You would smirk, cocking your fingers towards you, and he would come, presenting his neck. You would lick it from collarbone to chin and savor his stifled whimper.
“Come with me.”
The first time was, hm, not quite an accident. It was a lesson, because he was about to do something very, very stupid, the kind of stupidity like trying to do cocaine with zero experience and zero familiar faces around him. A friend of his asked you to step in and teach him a little lesson. A lesson about pain and how to deal with it. Effectiveness remained to be seen.
But satisfaction had been guaranteed.
You leaned down now, placing your hands on his face, framing it with your fingers.
Jungkook gasped at your touch, wanting more.
He had a pretty face. Beautiful eyes, deep and rich and brown. Shapely lips that were made for begging and demanded to be kissed. Cute moles the dotted his light, tan skin, natural dark stars on the galaxy of his body that craved to be explored with teeth and nails. Lots of tattoos up and down his right arm. He usually covered them up with long-sleeved shirts and big sweatshirts. Wore his hair down to cover his eyebrow piercing and changed his lip ring to a small stud when he was pretending to be a good, good boy.
But he was changing.
Metamorphosis.
Slowly but surely, Jungkook started showing up to the music studios you managed with ripped black band t-shirts and leather pants. Tattoos on display, filling in the sleeve so it was obvious and prominent. Silver lip ring clearly visible. Black hair slicked back, sometimes messy with strands brushing against his cheeks. No longer sticking out from your kind, but becoming part of them.
You smiled at him, nice and slow.
“Don’t want to wait anymore, do ya?”
“N-No…” he breathed, lips trembling under your chin. “Want you… Want you to use me…”
What a scene.
“Take off your clothes,” you murmured to his lips, brushing against them, barely-there kisses that he drank up every single second of. “And wait for me on the bed. You can do that, right?” Your fingers travelled up, up, tangling in his hair and pulling back, inhaling sharply as you heard his desperate whine waterfall from his open mouth, begging for kisses.
“I have to go get you-know-who.”
You let go of him roughly, chuckling deep in your chest. Stood up, backing away from him.
“So we can do you-know what.”
Jungkook gasped for air, on hands and knees in your bedroom, raising his head as you walked away, dancing your fingers in the air as you waved a teasing goodbye.
“And maybe I’ll let you stick it you-know-where.”
You opened the door behind you, suddenly frowning mockingly, pretending to think about it.
“Or maybe I won’t.”
You snickered deviously and shut the door.
-
Min Yoongi was aware he had a type.
Great legs, great ass, perky tits, too much black leather, a consistent habit of wearing a single white contact on her left eye, a smirk that was a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy, also kind of his unofficial manager that he paid with his dick.
Alright, his type was one specific person.
“I’m so fucking tired of this shit! Fuck, just because they don’t have an agent, the venue thinks they can try to upcharge them and, the second I step in, they think they can go over my head. Fuckin’ misogynistic bastards backtracking so fucking fast when I started pulling out numbers, I’ll fucking gutthem! Fuck! People equal shit!”
Ah, right.
She had a mouth on her.
Not just limited to a colorful vocabulary.
“Hah,shit, I’m sorry, Yoongi, I’m too fucking pissed off after sorting out what happened to Hana and the guys,” she had growled earlier, sending an inappropriate or appropriate thrill up his spine. It depended on who was who in the situation. “I don’t wanna make you do some twisted shit because I’m in this fucked-up mood, I’m gonna have to cancel–”
Her satoori got deeper and gruffer when she was angry.
It was very arousing.
“Jungkook’s outside today.”
She had paused.
Looked at him, one normal iris, one fake white one.
“What kind of twisted shit do you want to do with us?” he had asked with a smirk.
It was incredibly dangerous to ask such a question, because right now Yoongi was finding out.
She had a demonic grin, looking from Jungkook’s big, shocked brown eyes to his. He narrowed his gaze, not backing down despite basically sitting knee-to-knee with one of his friends. Both of them with leather collars and chain leashes.
Fully naked.
Yoongi wound his hand around Jungkook’s silver chain and held it tightly.
He was going to do what he was told to do because she needed it. He could feel it, almost as if it was radiating from her skin. The sin that needed to be satisfied. The glee in orchestrating dirty deeds. The pleasure she got from it all. It was tangible with every raspy exhale pushed out of her lungs, rattling with excitement.
Pink tongue on white teeth, laughing low and devilishly.
“Pull.”
Yoongi pulled.
-
“Jungkook, why do you like pain?”
He stared into her eyes. It gave him a heady and insane feeling. Sent his heart ricocheting in his chest. She tilted her head, lips barely parted, the upper one angled upward, giving her a curious expression despite the unnatural quality of the single white contact lens over her left iris.
His chest felt tight and not his neck. That was unusual for him.
“I don’t like pain.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
Jeon Jungkook wished it was his neck though.
“I like you.”
She tiled her head the other way, otherwise not reacting.
“You just happen to like inflicting pain,” he said slowly, digging his nails into his palms, feeling his skin prickling from the chills of this moment, staring into one white iris, one normal iris, but what was normal anyway, because Jungkook was pretty sure that it wasn’t this, this thing he had with her. This was a drug. This was enchantment. This was…
Just one of many bad habits.
Number one was getting too many tattoos.
Number two was getting too many piercings.
Number three was getting on his knees and begging for a collar.
Her gaze sharpened.
“I don’t like inflicting pain.”
His breath caught his in his throat.
“Ineedto inflict pain.”
And Jungkook felt it, something deep inside, like fire, like a crescendo, lashing out and then the drop, the quick turn of her head and the snap of her jaw, violently throwing her arm out. They were standing in the living room of the big house that looked mostly untouched. Fancy black leather couches, sleek flat screen television, black and white shag rug with the white parts too white, and this was her living room, but it wasn’t in the sense that it seemed like she was never here. Expensively furnished, luxe brands, almost opulent in texture, contrasting the owner – black leather jacket with too many silver studs and chains, ripped-up goat skull t-shirt, short red plaid skirt with black straps hanging from D-rings, torn and tattered sheer black tights. Standing here with him, he who showed up at outside her work and she knew exactly what he wanted.
Pain.
The pain made Jungkook feel alive and she needed to know why.
At least, he sensed that that was the true question.
“Day in and day out,” she snarled, pacing, the sound of rustling leather and clinking metal, not quite looking at him because the words were not for him. They were for the cold, cold universe. “Fuck. Fuck! All the fucking time, fixing everyone’s shit, putting dumbasses back in their place, people coming up to me all the time, can you help with this, fuck, yeah, of course I can, but a bitch gets tired, a bitch gets fed up, a bitch is fucking over it, and, damnnit, fuck youDad, fuck you for not being here, not that you would ever be any fucking help because the only things you’re good at are gamblin’ and breakin’ hearts, you fucker!”
And she turned and screamed into the house, screamed into the big empty house that was her family home, yet there was no family here, just her and Jungkook standing there, witnessing this outburst that seemed a long time coming, but he let it happen.
Yoongi had told him about it.
Girls with daddy issues. Why do they have to be so good at sex?
His hyung had said it with an open-mouthed smirk. A joke but, of course, all jokes had some truth to them.
She threw her arm to the side, baring her teeth. Vicious rumble deep in her chest, her hair wild and flaring out, not quite looking at him, speaking to him but not directly. He could tell it wasn’t him that she was furious at.
“I’msick.”
Her satoori came out heavier and gruffer when she was pissed off.
It sent an appropriate shiver up his spine.
She reached up and sank her nails into her neck and raked down, gritting her teeth, scratching so hard she left red marks and Jungkook craved to have those marks on hisskin, but he needed to listen, he needed to be patient and he needed to listen.
“I don’t want to be a sweet dream. I want to be a beautiful nightmare. I want to ruin your life and make you cry alone, wishing you were being fucked up by my hands. I want to mess you up so bad no one will ever satisfy you enough because all you can think about is my grip on your chin and my spit in your mouth.”
Her piercing eyes flickered up. One white, one with a dangerous glint.
“I’m gonna fuck you up.”
It sounded like a threat.
“I’m gonna make you do some twisted, fucked-up shit.”
It made his blood sing.
“Doesn’t that sound awful?” she chuckled darkly, ticking her head.
Breathing hard, taking his breath away.
“No.”
His breathing shallow, his heartbeat fast, and Jungkook was trying to find the oxygen to speak.
“That sounds like everything I want.”
Because he was sick too. Sick and tired of being lovey-dovey-sad-and-lonely. Sick and tired of trying to be the perfect boyfriend that he wasn’t anymore because his ex-girlfriend tossed him aside like a piece of trash, sick of the perfect son that he didn’t know how to be, tired of attempting to become the perfect human that the world always talked about but never seemed to exist. Sick and tired of everyone’s expectations of him and how good-looking and smart Jungkook should be a talented artist – fuck them, fuck it all, fuck everything, he was throwing it all away and giving into her, into the collar, into the chains, because right here, standing here with chills all over and hot blood pumping through his veins, here.
Here, he was alive.
“I want to be as important to you as Yoongi-hyung is.”
Here, he was lust and he was greed.
“You are not a liar. You never pretend you’re anything you’re not. You are always yourself, no matter what. You would do it all right out in the open if you could.” Shivering breath and there was envy there, envy because she was honest with herself and it seemed so fucking easy for her, whereas he could only be that way with her. Lowering his chin, lifting his eyes, and he was afraid but he didn’t know how to lie to orbs of white and danger. “I don’t care who sees, I don’t care who knows, I don’t care what anyone says about me anymore, I just want to stare into your eyes and lose myself in you and, if there’s pain in you, I’ll take that too.”
Here, in her grasp, Jungkook was free.
So, now when she said pull, Jungkook pulled and watched the thick black leather snap against Min Yoongi’s pale throat, watched the collar press against the sides of his neck and those dark brown, cat-like eyes flash, causing blood and unexplainable emotion to rise to the surface and here, right here, pullmeant let go.
Jungkook let go of all preconceived notions and he let himself feel.
Feel his own blood scream against the constriction, feel his scorching skin erupting all over in prickling anticipation, feel her fingers close in on his thigh. Bony fingers pressing in, sharp nails sinking onto his flesh, white-hot scratches that made his breath hitch and his back arch slightly, choking himself more, and still Yoongi didn’t let go, holding tight and rigid, keeping eye contact with him.
Jungkook couldn’t look away.
There was definitely something wrong about this but, lost in the lust-induced haze, he couldn’t imagine why.
Her face appeared in his periphery. Demonic grin. A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy. She pried her hand from his thigh and raised it high, clearly visible. Long fingers, lined palm, capable of an inescapable grip.
She spat on her palm.
First one and then the other.
Jungkook whimpered, his heart pounding in his ribcage, gripping tight on the silver chain, inked knuckles and tense forearm covered in too many tattoos, or at least that’s what everyone said, but who gave a shit what everyone said, fuck them all, too entranced by every movement, watching her hands drop, too expectant for the touch, hot gasp, spreading his knees out more, and then her saliva-slicked hand wrapped around his hard, aching cock, wet and tight and inescapable. Slow. Up, ridges of her fingers contrasting the slippery friction, glossing over the swollen head. Thumb pressed to the underside and rubbing under the slit, sending a jolt up his spine and down his thighs. Down, tightening her grip again, faintest hint of her nails dancing along the length, so light that he almost didn’t feel it which only made the sparks catch and the fire in his core burn into an embarrassing twitch that caused pre-cum to join her saliva the next time her hand ascended.
Holy.
Shit.
His head tilting back, but Jungkook didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the rush of pleasure that suddenly consumed Yoongi’s normally composed face and dark eyes, tipping his head back too. Black lashes lowering, shuddering breath, the other man’s lips dark pink and trembling, erotic and picturesque, and this was wrong, wasn’t it, thinning blood flow and satisfaction burning up from his core, but if this was wrong then why did it feel so good?
Why did he want to twist his hand and pull harder and choke his hyung more?
She leaned over and licked Yoongi’s cheek.
Those sharp features scrunched up a bit, slight discomfort, but mostly biting back any possible pathetic sounds. Yoongi was much better at it than he was, but at this point Jungkook didn’t care what he sounded like, didn’t pay attention.
He was too fixated on the obscene scene before him.
Her soft lips pressed into Yoongi’s cheekbone. Tip of her tongue against fair skin, Jungkook could hear it, the sound of her lips and her nimble, wet muscle; feel it, tighter, faster, her hand pumping his cock harder and the pleasure shooting through his veins; see it, the delicate, sensual trail of kisses that dipped down and made Yoongi’s eyes close, and then it was lips to lips, passionate lovemaking of tongues and his hyung’s deep moan trapped in his chest.
Forced to listen to the sound of tongues thrusting into their connected mouths, stolen breath and suppressed sound, saliva exchanged and swallowing.
There was a low, raspy hiss of her name, contented gratification.
Jungkook pulled harder and choked Yoongi more.
She broke the kiss.
When her head retreated, Jungkook came face-to-face with Yoongi’s open-mouthed smirk.
“Jealous?” his hyung chuckled, dark and sinister.
And then Yoongi yanked up on the chain.
-
He was enjoying this.
Should or shouldn’t did not matter to Min Yoongi. He did what he wanted because he could, because it was fun, and because it was a challenge. It was a challenge winding the metal links around his palm once more to shorten it, forcing Jungkook’s head higher, feeling her hand slide up and down his throbbing cock, fuck, he needed it, but not yet, not yet, watching that demonic grin hover above Jungkook’s face, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.
She dangled her glistening tongue above Jungkook’s open mouth.
From here, Yoongi could spy the quivering mole right at the center of those shapely lips.
“P… Please…”
Yoongi knew they made a good team, him and her.
He wound the chain around his hand, closing the gap between his fingers and Jungkook’s chin.
“Please what?” she teased, gravelly and rough.
Yoongi saw those lashes lower, those big brown eyes closing, hiding from his hyung’s eyes, maybe, but not that much because Jungkook’s legs were open, his hips were raised, his chest was straining, and he was getting his dick jacked off right in front of Yoongi’s face. There wasn’t much to hide as he begged.
“S-Spit in my mouth… please…”
Mouth opening, and Yoongi kept it wide with two fingers on Jungkook’s cheeks, feeling the vibration of his whine through his fingertips, and then she leaned down.
Spat in the younger man’s throat.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He opened his hips more and thrust into her hand, letting out a tense exhale as Jungkook moaned, wanton and wet, his eyelids fluttering and his eyes rolling back, swallowing ravenously, and Yoongi could hear it, see it, feel it under his own palm, realizing Jungkook had loosened his grip in his ecstasy, leaving Yoongi with too much oxygen and not enough restraint.
Yoongi unwound his hand and tugged down, snapping younger man’s head down forcefully.
Those big brown eyes snapped open, shock and confusion, and then widening, witnessing the view before him, and Yoongi had a fleeting moment of, fuck, I don’t look as good as he does, but it came and went, because the second Yoongi pulled his arm back and really choked Jungkook, the grip on his cock tightened and soft lips wrapped around the head, dripping saliva and hot tongue against sensitive skin, sending his world aflame with pleasure.
“Fuck!”
Jungkook got the hint and tugged hard.
And then the world was flashes and gasps, tongue swirling, saliva dripping, hand descending and two fingers hooking around his balls to spread out the wetness as the head of his cock was trapped between her lips. Suffocating tightness, agile tongue all over, hand ascending, sharp hiss tearing from his throat, fuck, so fucking good, pumping him roughly once more, heavenly mouth now removed, but everything was slippery and slick again, breath and blood drained, hazily witnessing the euphoria as Jungkook received the same treatment, and now oxygen and thoughts dissipated, in hell but this was the circle of lust, locking his elbow and choking Jungkook as the younger man choked him. Collar to collar, chain to chain, tan tattooed skin covered in a sheen of sweat, large brown eyes open and drinking in every detail as Yoongi did the same, open thighs, intense pace, rippling chest, and Yoongi ticked his chin, fuck what the world says, I am just as much of man as he is, and there was anger in the thought, defiance, narrowing his eyes and vowing to last longer, not that this was a competition but why not add another layer to the insanity?
Eye contact and Yoongi didn’t say anything, just growled in response, telling Jungkook that he knew he was being seen, that he knew he was being watched, that he knew he could barely breathe and barely think, and above all that he knew he wasn’t going to lose and he wasn’t going to back down.
Jungkook whimpered, his gaze glassy and drunk on depraved desire.
“C… Cum with m-me…”
Out of all the things, that shaky whisper might have delivered the strongest surge of pleasure yet.
Thathadto be twisted.
Yoongi felt himself smirk.
The only way he knew how to take it was too far.
“Go ahead. Cum all over me.”
He watched white teeth sink into pink lower lip, exposing that tiny mole perfectly under the center, and truly this was fucked, the eerie satisfaction Yoongi got from those furrowed brows and lust-consumed brown orbs framed in black hair and silver piercings, brow and lip and ears, clenched jaw and prominent muscles on neck and torso, and Yoongi cocked his head despite it all, rolling his hips forward, closer, seeing Jungkook move his too, rising the challenge, and this was a little psychotic, a little mischief in Yoongi’s smirk reflected in Jungkook’s watering eyes, a lot sexy as Yoongi succumbed to the pleasure and grinned at the same time Jungkook moaned and threw his head back, cutting off his sound with a gargle, and the world that had been bleeding black hazed to a flash of darkness.
Jungkook came all over his thighs and between his open legs, strings of thick hot cum painting his equally burning skin, and Yoongi sucked in a razor-sharp inhale, peaking at the point of airlessness from holding his own breath, shooting white onto those thick, muscular, tanned thighs, his orgasm clinging to them even as they violently shuddered and bucked, slick cream dripping down the curves.
They let go.
The chains fell, slapping them in the chest and legs, smearing the cum.
The rushing oxygen knocked the wind out of Yoongi, making him cough and shake his head tensely, then a groan tumbled out of him, sudden soothing wet heat, and he cracked his eyes open, seeing her lick off Jungkook’s cum on his thighs, switching between him and the younger man, the depth of their moans mixing. One raspy, one silvery, both hoarse. Wet tongue all over sensitive and overstimulated skin, sharp nails gripping their hips, hint of pain, and that made it perfect.
Yoongi looked up, his palms on the bed behind him, panting.
Jungkook felt the eyes on him and gazed back, slightly unfocused, trapped in the carnage of the aftermath, sweat making his toned chest glisten. Yoongi smirked, open-mouthed and devious, deliberately looking Jungkook up and down.
“Should get a mirror next time so you can see yourself.”
He found perverse pleasure in seeing Jungkook’s cheeks flush red, tucking his chin down to cover his face with his long black hair, unable to keep eye contact any longer.
The only way Yoongi knew how to take it was too far.
-
It was true.
You were sick and tired of being alone.
It wasn’t as if you wanted your dad to be home. What was he gonna do? Become to dad he never was? No. You were too old for that shit anyway. And besides, it wasn’t like you didn’t understand it. Being an adult sucked. He was real good at gambling. So good that you were standing in a big house and you could buy big cars and big rings with your father’s winnings. Everyone liked to say that money couldn’t buy happiness.
But you know what it could buy?
It could buy two matching collars and silver chains.
Only someone born rich could say something like money can’t buy happiness, because everyone else knew that happiness was security, and security was lying between a sleeping Jeon Jungkook and dozing Min Yoongi and having your hands wrapped around each silver chain, running your fingers over the immobile links, soaking in the depraved satisfaction that gave you. Sure, maybe you had daddy issues that gave you bad, bad habits, but everyone had a sin and yours being lust only bothered those whose predominant sin was envy.
You felt Jungkook’s hand on your hip, pulling himself closer. Pressed his body against yours, craving the closeness and the maximum amount of touch. Yoongi’s fingertips were running down the tendon of your wrist, murmuring your name.
“Yeah?”
“Happy?” he mumbled, a one-word question.
You smiled to the dark.
You weren’t wearing your white contact lens. It was time to sleep.
pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook, mentions of namjoon x reader
Do not read this before reading the full a–dick–ted au. Although these events occur before the entirety of the a–dick–ted au, the significance will be lost unless the rest is read first.
warnings:rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption; everyone is fucking around (literally); dreams of smut (fem reader, nipple play, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, choking, scratching / marking); non-idol!AU
inspired by TXT’s new album, The Chaos Chapter: FREEZE based on this
–
now playing – anti-romantic by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
He didn’t know it then.
He couldn’t dream of what was to come.
He didn’t know this moment would change him forever.
“This is my friend, Min Yoongi.”
“Hello.”
She didn’t pay very much attention to him and he didn’t pay much attention to her. They merely exchanged names, waved in greeting, and went back to their respective moments. She stood next to Kim Namjoon, hands in her pockets, not really looking at the people he was introducing her to. An awkward air, yet Namjoon stood beside her protectively. She chewed on her lip, nodding as another member of the friend group acknowledged her. Yoongi didn’t think much of her. She wasn’t his type. Baggy black cargo pants, loose black t-shirt, black cap.
His type was short skirts and easy.
Min Yoongi was a bad boy.
He smirked and pressed the girl beside him to his chest. She giggled and smacked him, playfully pretending to push him away. He wouldn’t call her in the morning and she would probably barely remember him, seeing how drunk she was.
Min Yoongi was a playboy.
He didn’t know.
Later, he was kissing his fuck of the night and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her and Namjoon in a corner. She was in Namjoon’s lap, her cap on the seat beside him, Namjoon’s hands all over her waist and ass. Yoongi pushed the girl down to his neck, letting her sloppily make out with his skin, watching Namjoon’s kind-of, sort-of girlfriend.
He didn’t know why.
Something about the way she was kissing his friend.
She wasn’t dressed sexy, but she moved like it, sensual, deep kisses, grinding in Namjoon’s lap, her hands sliding up into his dark hair. Words exchanged. Her eyes opening slightly, half-lidded and looking around them. For a split second, her gaze and Yoongi’s gaze connected, drawn to each other like a moth to flame. Yoongi only had a fragment of an instant to see those blown-out pupils and then Namjoon’s hand was creeping up the front of her shirt, kneading her breasts through the fabric.
Her attention was gone from him.
And his from her.
Min Yoongi didn’t care about anything.
Weird that when he fucked that girl in her apartment that night, he thought about those eyes.
Orgasmed thinking about them.
Those eyes had been searching for something. Yoongi wasn’t sure if she was looking at the actual people around her or something else. But it felt like something else. He didn’t know why.
He simply felt that way.
-
Yoongi closed his eyes and dreamed.
In his dream, her. Namjoon’s kind-of, sort-of girlfriend.
Except she wasn’t with Namjoon. She was wearing a sinfully short red satin dress, tight in all the right places, molded to every curve, his leather jacket over his shoulders. She looked sexy as fuck in red. Just so fucking beautiful on her own, standing there, surrounded by his black leather.
She turned her head and looked at him.
He couldn’t breathe.
Down, like he was falling, falling, and then his head collided with pillows, gasping, and she was on top of him, hungry kisses, tumbling, him grabbing her shoulders and pushing her down, so hot, her sounds filling his ears, his name a wanton moan, and he couldn’t stop, sliding between her legs, instant bliss, fucking her into the bed, surrounded by soft navy sheets, that mouth calling his name, those eyes looking into his soul, and the sound, fuck, her sound, music to his ears, the wet slap of their bodies, her whimpers, the way she said his name.
She had never said his name in real life, but in this dream, she said it like she had been saying it all her life.
And he could feelit, feel the way her pussy wrapped around his hard length, squeezing him, sucking him in, wanting him, and he was hazy, intoxicated, drunk.
Addicted.
It shot through him, the pleasure invasive and unavoidable, clawing through his veins, setting them all on fire, and he wanted it, those blown-out pupils and that fucked-out expression, he wanted it, that open mouth, pretty pink hole just begging to have his cock shoved into it, he wanted it, that body squirming under him, thighs and ass and tits and back, he wanted to watch cum drip down all over this body and spread it around with his hands, coating her with the thick scent of his orgasm, capturing her lips and thrusting his tongue into that mouth, her whines shoved back into her lungs.
Yoongi wanted it.
In this dream, he shoved her against the wall, pressed her down onto the kitchen counter, dragged her into his lap, put her on her knees on the floor, and fucked her, fucked her, and fucked her, and it was never enough, it never seemed to be enough, and he couldn’t stop, he just couldn’t stop wanting to fuck her so, so bad.
He wanted it so bad.
Wanted her to say his name, to grip onto his shoulders, to tip her head back as his hand wrapped around her neck and his cock assaulted her pussy, legs and arms and voice wrapped all around him, begging for more, here, there, everywhere, somewhere, nowhere.
Darkness.
Swallowing him up.
And then he was alone.
No, not alone.
But not with her.
Yoongi felt himself running, running, the world in darkness. A hand in his hand, holding tight, stumbling, looking for the black light that was her, chasing the moment. The never-ending moment of his lips on her lips, in the safety of the impossible.
-
The funny thing about dreams is, they’re too easy to forget.
Yoongi awoke with a start, tangled in unknown sheets, in a stranger’s bed. It was early morning. The sun hadn’t even rose yet. He was naked. The girl he fucked last night was naked and passed out. The details slipped away from him rapidly, all of it, but he remembered the sex the night before was nothing like his dream.
The sex last night before was fucking trash.
He got up quietly and yanked on his clothes, taking all his belongings, not giving a single shit, not bothering being nice about it. It didn’t mean anything, and it never did.
His head hurt a little, but not that bad. He picked up his phone, deleting the girl’s number right there in her own bedroom before shoving it in his pocket. He stepped outside the unknown apartment and started walking, hands in his pockets, looking for where he was, forgetting all about the dream and last night’s fuck.
Deep down, Yoongi felt an ache.
A want.
He couldn’t place it though. Didn’t know why.
Something brushed past his ear and it almost sounded like his name, breathless and full of lust.
Yoongi turned his head, his short black hair fluffing in the wind, but there was nothing but the stale air of dawn. He frowned, turning back forward, a sudden thought intruding his mind.
The best sex is still…
Who?
Yoongi looked up into the sky that was beginning to break into light, but, inside him, he was trapped in what seemed like endless darkness.
The funny thing about dreams is, even if you forget them, they don’t forget you.
—
now playing – ‘0X1=LOVESONG (i know i love you) ft. seori’ by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
He couldn’t do anything to stop himself.
When he was awake, he did whatever. He messed around, he drank, he fooled around with feelings and bodies, but never too much, never too far. He dressed nice to attract the sweet compliments, showering himself with praise and validation from others to feed his insecurities, but his heart belonged to that soulmate he would find one day, so he couldn’t get careless and give away his first experience to anyone.
It had to be that one, that person, all or nothing.
Jeon Jungkook believed that.
He believed that when he met this person, he would know instantly. That was how it was in movies and shows, right? The chance meeting, eyes to eyes, and the two main characters just knew, life giving them every chance to fall in love, the perfect moment of falling flower petals and birds singing in the background as they kissed for the first time.
So, why?
Why couldn’t his brain stop?
He didn’t even remember how they met. Not at all. He was probably drunk, and it was only an introduction anyway. Kim Namjoon introduced her as his friend, even though it was obvious they were sex friends. That wasn’t his person. The person for Jungkook would be like him. Waiting for the one. The moment of falling flower petals and birds singing in the background.
He hadn’t waited for his first kiss, but he had decided that wasn’t as important as his first time. He had been young then. He didn’t know the magic, the power, the importance of love. He knew that now, so he simply always stopped before the final moment. He would do everything else but that.
He had to wait and look for it.
Where was his moment?
Where was his euphoria?
Where was his forever dream?
Slowly, Jungkook was losing.
He would throw himself onto his bed of soft navy sheets and fall asleep, alone, the frustration festering inside his heart, infested and infected.
-
In his dreams.
Her.
It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know her. He had only seen her a handful of times and they barely spoke. He didn’t even ask questions when Namjoon and her parted ways. He didn’t care. She wasn’t the one. She didn’t give him that feeling, so unless she wanted to be a side mission to his quest, he didn’t pay any attention to her.
And yet.
In his dreams, her.
Crawling onto his bed, shedding her clothes, delicate hand sliding up his abs, smelling like whiskey, pine, and leather even though that wasn’t what she smelled like whenever she hung out with him and his friends. Jungkook didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why he could feel this touch, he didn’t understand why it made him hot, he didn’t understand why his hand always reached down and pulled her to him, his lips crashing to those malleable lips, her mewls vibrating in his mouth, soft body flush against his hard one. His hands slid between her legs, forcing them apart, kissing down that body line, the smooth texture of her skin on his lips and tongue, fuck, breasts so soft and the taste of her nipples in his mouth, swelling a little as he sucked, lapping at it with the tip of his wet muscle and hearing her moan his name, a moan he had never, ever heard in his whole life, but she said it like she had been saying it forever and ever.
Jungkook didn’t understand why he could feel everything.
He could feel it, his mouth on that heat, guttural moan emitting from his throat as he tasted it, sweet like candy, his fingers digging into soft thighs, spreading them open as his tongue traced circles around that opening that he had never sampled before, thrusting his tongue in and groaning, getting hard because he could feel her muscles close around his tongue, his nose rubbing the sensitive nub covered in slick juices, sliding the wet muscle back out and encompassing her clit with his lips, licking at it and it swelled, engorged with pleasure, listening to her soft cries, his cock getting harder and harder, looking up at that face and seeing her head tipped back, mouth open, sucking on her clit more harshly, her trembling body shaking his own, surrounded by delightful sin as her juices flooded his mouth and her lustful voice whimpering his name flooded his ears, so turned on that he had to clamp his thighs around his cock to get it to calm down.
The dreams got worse.
His fingers shoved inside her, feeling her pussy walls wrapped around them, her hands gripping his shirt and her gasps in his ear as he thrust his fingers into her roughly, her softness to his hardness, wetter, louder, something between his teeth that tasted artificially sweet, and she leaned in and sucked it into her mouth, swallowing it before kissing him, ravenous, needy, whimpering his name, his fingers soaked to the knuckles.
And then.
In between her legs, his thick, hard length pushing into that tightness, oh, fuck, and it was perfect, wonderful, so tight, so wet, so soft. His hips rocking, plunging into that heat over and over, and she was breathless from his power, wrists pinned down by his hands as he fucked her into his bed, rough massage of her orgasm up and down his hardness, oh, so good, so hot, so sexy, so real, he could feel it like she was right there, wailing his name as he pumped his cock into her forcefully and came, shooting his cum inside that perfect pussy wrapped around him, fitted to every contour of his jerking length, made just for him.
Jungkook didn’t understand.
He dreamt these dreams all the time. Whenever his eyes closed and he slipped into darkness, she came to him, and he rushed to her, hungry to feel it again, the lust the seemed never-ending, the way she said his name, the way her nails dug into his skin and scratched him up, the way her breath caught when his hand was around her neck, ecstasy painted on her beautiful features as he thrust up into her, smacking hips to hips, so hard he could feel it bruise, and he loved it, he loved the feeling that seemed so real, so fucking real that it was starting to be better than his actual flings.
But Jungkook could do nothing.
She didn’t look at him.
To be honest, she expressed nothing but annoyance with his presence.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
It was supposed to be a perfect moment.
It couldn’t be her.
Her fingers would be twisted in a leather coat, her lips parting as Min Yoongi filled her ears with words Jungkook couldn’t hear, watching his hyung’s fingertips graze her thigh. And just as soon as they touched, they would break apart.
Jungkook was confused.
Like ships in the night, Namjoon’s past lover, his kind-of, sort-of ex-girlfriend would walk by Min Yoongi and something would be exchanged, something Jungkook couldn’t quite tell or see, until it was obvious, short skirts and cropped tops, Yoongi dragging her into hallways, into bathrooms, into dark corners, doing things to her, things Jungkook dreamed about every night now, things that he had never considered or didn’t even know he could do.
The more of her body was revealed to him, the more Jungkook wanted it.
But he couldn’t.
But he wantedit, wanted her under him moaning his name, wanted her hands on his body, wanted his cock to be the one to make her feel good. Jungkook wanted it and he didn’t understand why, because love was falling flower petals and birds singing in the background, not him dragging her on hands and knees and pounding her from behind, groaning as he savored the feeling of his crotch harshly smacking into her plump ass, his open palm slapping the softness and making it jiggle for him, leaving red marks and crescents of his nails because he was grabbing her hips so tightly while shooting his load into that warm, wet tightness, listening to her wanton moan of his name.
Jungkook could think about nothing else.
Addicted.
He would lay in bed and close his eyes, remembering his dreams, stroking his hard length with his hand and imagining it was hers, fucking his own hand and imagining her holding his cock, not even needing her to do the moving because just her presence was enough, just knowing that she was there, waiting to be used by him, and that thought alone was enough to make him orgasm with an aching gasp, pressing his head back into the pillows and shooting thick spurts of cum all over his hand and thighs, globs of whiteness dripping down and covering him with his scent, imagining it was her he was painting with his cum, smearing it onto her tits, her face, her stomach, her ass, her legs, everything, everywhere, all over.
He couldn’t make it stop.
He wanted it.
Needed it.
Needed her.
Jungkook just knew.
There was no way he could make it stop.
No, there was.
One way.
Could he?
“Hyung?”
Min Yoongi looked up from his glass of whiskey, leather jacket creaking, smelling like pine. His black hair over dark brown eyes, cat-like and indifferent to the world around him.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
—
now playing – frost by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
Silence.
A silent night for the first time in a long time.
For the past couple months, your nights had been filled with heavy breaths, the slap of skin to skin, deep whispers of your name. Strong hands wrapped around you, full lips capturing yours, pressed cheek to dimpled cheek, his large frame towering over you, full of warmth and lust.
And now.
Nothing.
Because you had asked it to stop.
You shifted in your pillows, turning your phone over in your hand.
“I appreciate you being upfront about it. To be honest, I wasn’t really getting the vibes from you either.”
That’s what Kim Namjoon said to you.
“I’d like to still be friends though. Would you?”
You didn’t need to hesitate.
“I’d like that, Namjoon.”
He had smiled at you, wide and full, dimples on full display.
You turned your phone over in your hand.
You thought you would regret it. At least feel disappointed. Sad. Something. Anything.
Nothing.
It wasn’t that serious. It was just sex. You weren’t his girlfriend. You didn’t want it to be more than that. He did. It was better this way, for you and Namjoon. He could find what he needed, because it wasn’t you.
You stopped turning your phone in your hand.
Remembering black hair and dark, cat-like eyes.
Remembering the closeness.
Remembering his words.
“Are you wet?”
Your words.
“Are you hard?”
The shiver you felt at his response.
“Yeah.”
He told the truth, so you did too.
“Yes.”
You looked up at the ceiling, remembering the way his deft fingers danced in the air. Teasing you. Making you wonder what he could do with them.
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.
“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.”
Nothing was going right for your poor husband today. He was trying to finish production on the new album. Mostly just finishing touches, but there was one song that refused to sound the way he wanted it to. You’d joined him around lunch time, bringing him lunch and making yourself comfortable on his sofa, mostly just to make sure he ate. For a while you just watched him work, content to watch him do what he does best. As the afternoon wore on, he was getting no closer to his goal and you unfortunately had things to do around the house. You stand to make your way out of the room, but he grabs your wrist.
“Stay” he whispers, pulling you close and burying his head into your tummy. You stroke at his hair, pulling slightly to relieve the pressure of the headache you were sure he had by now.
“Okay baby” you kiss his forehead and sit back on the sofa. There is a book laying on the table and you take it upon yourself to start reading. You’re only half a chapter in when you find yourself falling asleep. Sounds of frustration break through your nap. Yoongi’s head is in his hands, defeated. Your heart cries for him, knowing how stressed he is. Standing, you move to behind his chair, rubbing his shoulders. He leans into your touch, sighing at the small stress relief. He would never admit it, but Yoongi was a very tactile person, the tiniest touches could make him feel worlds better. You adjust the pressure, digging your thumbs deeper into the sore spots. He pulls you in to his lap and plays with your hair. Stroking you helps to calm his energy and yours. The track is still far from finished but now he feels lighter, like it will all fall into place soon.
Having felt him relax, it’s not long until you get a little frisky. Moving so you are straddling him, you nuzzle your face into his neck and play with his hair. He continues to work for a little while longer, but you feel his hips wriggle uncomfortably as his arousal grows. You grind your hips downwards, wanting to feel the friction of his fly against your leggings. Hands grab at your hips, forcing you to stay still. Yoongi’s eyes are filled with nothing but lust when you lift your head to look at him.
“I’m supposed to be working my love” he whispers, although it’s clear he doesn’t want you to stop. Instead, you lean your head forward, claiming his mouth with your own. Nibbling at his bottom lip until he allows your tongue entry to explore.
“We will just have to be quick then baby” you retort. He lifts you from his office chair, having you wrap your legs around his waist. Your back hits the studio door as he reaches for the lock before laying you out on the sofa. Clothes fly across the room, as eager hands roam over newly exposed skin. Mouths meet in a fever, eager to taste each other. The thought of sex in the Big Hit studio was thrilling. Sure, it had crossed your mind a few times, it just always seemed like an illicit fantasy. Your husbands tongue travels down your body, licking everywhere he could, occasionally stopping to kiss and bite little marks in his wake.
“I thought that said quick Yoongi-ah” your voice lilts at the end as two of his delicate fingers make their way inside your dripping hole. He scissors the digits making your back arch from the stretch.
“I’ll be as quick as I can jagi” he coos. The fingers are gone as soon almost as quickly as they enter, and you find yourself already mourning the loss. Its short lived as you find his face next to yours once more, his hard cock pressing at your entrance. “Ready?” you nod, and he pushes his way in. the lack of prep has you cringing at the stretch, but the burn feels so good. You signal its okay for him to start moving and he starts. At first his thrusts are achingly slow; you can feel every inch of him. Gradually his speed builds, each little increase like a small new torture for you aching pussy. He moves to lean on one elbow. This leaves his other arm free to drift between your bodies.
His hand plays with your clit, rolling it expertly, in the way only he knew how. The sensation had you keening. The familiar knot in your stomach was building fast. The release was sweet, a wave of pleasure, passed over your body with a moan of your husband’s name. your grabby hands search for him, needing him closer. They come to settle in his hair, tugging at the strands in the best way. His orgasm isn’t too far behind yours and the two of you lay there for a moment before he pulls out, all his weight resting on you.
“Okay my love I think that’s enough for today” he gets to his feet and finds some tissue to help clean you up. “I think it’s time we tidy up and just went home” he helps you up from the sofa and pulls you into a sweet embrace before helping to collect the clothes strewn across the room.
Work had been long and unfruitful. Everything you had tried to achieve had been thrown back in your face. You’re close to tears when you trudge through the front door of the house you share with your husband. To your dismay he is nowhere to be found. You settle yourself on the sofa wearing only one of your husbands oversized shirts. You’d grabbed a sandwich and soda on the way, unwilling to put anymore effort into your day. You must have fallen asleep like that because the next thing you know Yoongi is crouched in front of you stroking your hair.
“Long day my love?” he asks moving to sit at the end of the sofa, laying your legs out on top his lap. He grabs one of your feet and kneads the days stress away as he listens to you vent. When you finish ranting you can feel all the tension drain from your body. You move to get closer to him, wanting nothing more then to make him feel better too, but he stops you.
“Tonight, I just want to make you feel good princess, can you let me do that?” his eyes search yours looking for approval and you nod, submitting fully to whatever he had planned. He continued kneading your feet, bending his head to press soft kisses all the way up to your ankles. Slowly his hands worked their magic all the way up calves to your thighs. His touch was unparalleled. Occasionally he would bring his fingers close to your core making you shiver but never quite touching you. Eventually he shifts you, so he is sat behind you, your head lying back on hi shoulder as he bites small marks into your neck. Massaging your shoulders and whispering sweet affirmations in between nips.
“you’re so pretty angel… look how easily you mark for me… you’re so precious to me…. I love you so much y/n” each phrase makes the blush on your face deepen; praise is not new from Yoongi, but it made you feel special every time. You moan at a particularly sharp bite and he uses the opportunity to slip a finger into your mouth, you suck on instinct. He watches you eagerly. Loving how you were always ready to please him even when it was supposed to be all about you.
He took the, now spit covered, finger from your mouth and moved it between your legs, using the moisture to rub at your hardened nub. You rut into his hand excited from the sudden escalation of the massage you’d been receiving. He chuckles at your impatience and brings his other hand down to play with your folds, dragging two of his fingers through your arousal. Once coated he plunges both inside of you, your hole burning with the sudden intrusion. The sweet mix of pleasure and pain pushed you closer and closer to your high. Your reaction only served to encourage your husband, as he moved his hands faster and faster. Your legs shake as you reach your climax, fresh arousal coating Yoongi’s hand. When he is sure you are finished, he removes his fingers from you and licks them clean.
“Wait here angel, I’m going to run you a bath,” he lays you back on the sofa and hurries off in the direction of the bathroom.
Yoongi X reader - married Wax play, ice play, f!oral, unprotected sex
This had been the worst fight the two of you had had in a long time. Yoongi was due to set off on a new world tour within the next month and he kept bringing home the stress of rehearsals with him. Every time he came home he either collapsed on the sofa and stayed there until long after you gone to bed, or forced himself through dinner with you snapping at you when you asked questions he deemed too overwhelming for his current mental state. You know he didn’t mean it, often apologising as soon as he realises how short he had been with you, but after two weeks you’d had enough.
“STOP IT!” you shout after the twelfth grumbled reply of the evening “You have been awful to me for weeks now, and I get it you are stressed but did you ever think maybe I have bad days too?” he glances up at you from under his bangs before excusing himself from the table and locking himself in his home studio. You let out an exasperated sigh before throwing the empty plates into the sink, chipping one in the process. The flood gates opened then, and you retreated to your shared bedroom, safe in the knowledge that your husband would not come to bed until after he was sure you were asleep.
You must’ve passed out while crying. When you awoke the sun was streaming through the crack in the blinds, Yoongi no where to be found. He must have come in at some point though because your jeans had been removed, and you were tucked in with your favourite blanket and the teddy bear he bought you for your first date. You cuddle the small toy close before unravelling yourself and going in search of your missing spouse. You walk out into the living room but he’s not on the sofa. You search further into the house, heading for his musical sanctuary. That’s where you find him. Curled up on the small leather sofa in the corner usually reserved for when you want to watch him work. Soft snores fall from his mouth, he looks so peaceful there, finally relaxed. You crouch by his side and try to wake him, eager to sort through any lingering contempt from the night before. However, when he doesn’t stir, an evil idea forms in your head.
You run back to the kitchen to receive your weapon of choice. The ice cubes burn your hand a little as you rush back to mess with the man you love. When you return, he has turned in his sleep, giving you the perfect access to your target. You almost abort the plan when you see his angelic face, mouth slightly agape, he just looks so cute. But the ice is staring to drip out of our hand so its now or never. You take one of the cubes and rub it gently along the back of his neck. He lets out a small moan in protest to the damp sensation. The noise only spurs on your mischievous replacement for an alarm clock. You drop two ice cubes down his back, knowing how sensitive he is. The sudden damp wakes him up immediately and you rush to hide the evidence, slipping the remaining ice cubes into your mouth, not having an exit strategy for him awaking so fast.
The bleary man eyes you suspiciously, looking at your blown-out chipmunk cheeks. While tired he is not stupid. His eyes squint as his hand reaches out to push your cheeks together. One of the cubes falls out of your mouth and he laughs shaking his head at your antics, felling the tension break between the two of you. You stick your tongue out, the last remaining block of ice proudly sat in the middle. He pulls you in to kiss you. The two of you pass the cold shard back and forth until nothing remains. You pull away a little breathless, resting your forehead against his.
“I’m sorry for shouting at you baby” you whisper, genuinely sad that you’d snapped knowing how hard he’d been working.
“Don’t be silly, it’s all on me. I should never be that short with you ever. I love you far too much to ever make you that upset.” His hand caresses the side of your face as you cling to him, happy to finally be talking through the rising resentment.
“I love you too… so much” tears sting your eyes again when you think about how much your going to miss him when he goes on tour, knowing that part of the argument was pushing each other away in preparation for the long separation.
“Come with me?” he asks for what must be the hundredth time since the tour was announced. You sigh about to refuse again, you couldn’t just up and leave your job and friends, especially with how busy he would be, but his lips press against yours to halt your response. “Please, I don’t want to leave you again, I can’t” his eyes plead with yours, a sadness planted deep within them.
“Maybe” your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all he needs for now “Maybe for a little bit of the tour at least” you clarify, but it doesn’t matter, because he knows you, once your resolve budges an inch he can run with it for a mile. He sweeps you into his arms, all sleepiness worn off. He carries you back to your bedroom as you squeal for him to release you. He dumps you on the bed and is instantly covering your body with his. He places kisses along your chin and down your throat before pulling your hands away from your sides and above your head. He secures them with the handcuffs that had become a permanent fixture to your headrest.
“Now I think it’s time to get you back for the rather rude awakening this morning.” He pulls your shirt up your body, so it pools around your extended arms and crawls back off the bed. Reaching into your box of toys he pulls out a candle and lighter. “Fire for ice… what do you think Jagi” his voice dropped an octave as he set the wick alight and waited for wax to start dripping from the top. You squirm in anticipation as he moves the candle over your body. He tests the temperature on his own skin before letting it hang freely over your stomach.
*drip*
The first splatter of warmth hits your stomach and you let out a moan.
*drip*
*drip*
The next two hit your thighs, close to your core. His free hand moves to play with the drying wax connecting the small trail of dots, his fingers getting dangerously close to where you wanted them most before he pulled them away and moved the candle to a new target. The wax was flowing a little quicker now, he took the opportunity to write his initials across your chest before blowing out the flame and placing the candle on the heatproof mat on your dresser. He signals you to stay still and exits the room. You close your eyes awaiting his return, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wax on your skin.
You hear him return but don’t bother to look. Your trust in him is complete, unwavering. A trust you regret just a little when the ice I dragged slowly across your heated flesh. Your eyes fly open, glaring at the cocky smirk now on his face.
“What happened to the fire?” you question trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably. His freezing touch prevents you from actually being upset. Too turned on to even keep up your fake argument. He pulls the cube down from between your breasts to your pussy, holding it just above your slit and letting the cool water mix in with your juices. When that cube was gone Yoongi reached for another one from a glass on the side. Placing it on his tongue he tucked his head between your legs and blew a cold wind over your still heated skin. One arm wrapped around your thigh the other snaking underneath him to play with your folds. Once his mouth is almost as cold as the ice he licks up your slit before sucking on your clit.
The severe temperature shift made you shiver with pleasure. His mouth moves expertly against your clit, drawing nonsensical shapes in your skin. Two of his fingers tease your entrance, their tips dancing in and out of you but never enough to cause the stretching burn you craved from them. Your about to whine for what you want, not above begging after the taunting he had put you through, when he surprises you by pushing three of his digits inside. You let out a high squeak at the sudden intrusion, the burn almost too much. Almost. You grind down as far as the handcuffs will let you. He chuckles at your eager reaction, pulling his hand back as much as far as you advanced.
“Please” the plea left your mouth almost involuntarily. He pumps his fingers languidly in and out. His digits curve expertly against your sweet spot.
“Please what Jagi… tell me what you need” he places kisses on your thighs and waits for your response.
“Fuck me… hard, make me cum hard all over your cock” your filthy mouth makes it impossible for him to hold back any longer. He rips his fingers from you almost painfully. He unlocks your hands, flips you over, and removes his pants. You grip onto the pillows as he lines himself up. He thrusts into you hard, pistoning his hips like a man gone mad. The feeling is incredible. One hand reaches round to play with your clit as the other wraps in your hair pulling you up flush against him. He places small kisses along your shoulders in between the grunts leaving his mouth. Your orgasm builds quickly in this position. The combination of the angle and his ministrations on the bundle of nerves between your legs has you almost screaming as the pleasure overtakes you, your husband not far behind as his hips stutter.
He cuddles you close as the two of you fall to the mattress, exhausted. When your highs fade, he moves to grab your recover kit, using a plastic card to remove the dried wax from your skin and rubbing the areas with a soothing moisturiser. He places kisses to the slightly pink skin and pulls you favourite blanket back around the two of you as you fall into a late morning nap. Back in his arms where you belong.
Genre/warnings:ghost au, horror au, angst, small mentions of drinking but it’s not excessive, mention of possible drug use, mentions of murder
Word count:1,485
Summary: Every apartment building is a little strange, whether it be the residents or the history behind the building. But when Yoongi moves into Westfield Apartments, he finds that both his neighbors and the building itself are more than a little strange.
Christopher ‘Chan’ Bang: A nice guy, but definitely wary of others outside his apartment. Protective. Polite, but seems to be a little nervous all the time.
Lee Minho: Blunt. Makes it obvious he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Rude, but with intention. Tries to drive people away intentionally.
Seo Changbin: Quiet. Keeps to himself. Doesn’t say much, even when spoken to. Usually out at the bar. If he’s out at night, he doesn’t come back until after sunrise. Must know something.
Felix Lee: Innocent. Naïve. Too kind and friendly for his own good. Left in the dark by his roommates. Probably for the best.
Yoongi had swung back by Jihoon’s to grab the file, quickly scanning through whatever your father had gathered on the four roommates he was about to encounter. He was sure they knew something, but it seemed to be to the extent of whatever Wonwoo, Jeonghan, and Soonyoung knew: there was something going on in the apartment building that they should be mindful and afraid of, but they weren’t sure what it was.
With the file stuffed into a black backpack he was keeping on his back, Yoongi approached 206.
When he knocked, it was Minho who was at the door, leaning against the frame with a disgusted look on his face as he eyed Yoongi up and down.
“And what’re you back for?” he asked, definitely not hiding the fact that he didn’t want Yoongi coming back to their apartment.
“Minho, stop it,” Chan came up behind him, saying the words under his breath forcefully with a stern look. Then his eyes went to Yoongi and he offered a friendly smile. “What can we do for you?”
“Who is it?” Felix’s voice came from inside the apartment, before there was a harsh, “Shh!”
“As if you don’t know…” Minho muttered, rolling his eyes.
Yoongi flashed him a confused look before slowly looking back to Chan, “…D-do you know why I’m here…?”
“You’ve only been bothering everyone and their mother in the building,” Minho snapped. “Whatever the hell you’re digging around for, we’re not having any part of it. Kick rocks.”
“Minho–!”
“Hey,” a new voice cut in.
Changbin came out of the dark apartment that was only being illuminated by a TV screen. He kept his eyes down, only glancing up at Yoongi as he slipped between Chan and Minho, muttering, “Wanna get a drink?”
Not even waiting for an answer, Changbin turned the corner into the hallway and kept walking. Yoongi only glanced at his two roommates as Felix called for Changbin to come back to movie night before the older boy was jogging to catch up.
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
Yoongi found himself in a bar on the edge of the nearby city. It was the stereotypical tiny bar that one would see in the movies. It was a little bit of a shithole but it was nice enough for Yoongi to not feel gross drinking out of their glasses. It was also nice enough for Changbin to be a regular considering everyone there seemed to know him and the bartender knew his typical order – Yoongi just got whatever Changbin got.
Changbin had one hand around his glass while Yoongi held his with both to just give his hands something to do instead of nervously fidget.
“Listen,” Changbin finally began after the two sat in silence for a moment after getting their drinks – Yoongi wasn’t really sure what to say because Changbin was pretty intimidating, and he felt like he should wait for the younger boy to start the conversation, anyway, “I know you know things about the apartment. All of us do – ‘cept Felix, and we wanna keep it that way?”
“Why?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
Changbin chuckled, “You’ve seen the kid: he’s too…pure and innocent and happy. Besides, it’s not his fault he’s stuck there. Kid has nowhere else to go so we took him in even though we didn’t want him exposed to what we have been. I feel bad because he wants to leave the room and make friends, but… I’m not saying everyone in that place is bad, but we don’t know who we can trust. That place changes people, we’ve seen it happen. Kihyun got fucked up by something on the fifth floor. Hell, Kibum was never as agitated as he is now. He used to at least be nice sometimes, but now talking to that dude is a surefire way to get your head bitten off. Even…”
He paused, looking down into the liquid in his glass, “Even Jihoon and Yuna were normal when they moved in. But then…Yuna started saying things that were just…weird. She was seeing things that weren’t there and mumbling to herself. She was always talking about these…dark shapes and shadows. Some people though maybe she was just acting normal to make friends but then got comfortable, and she was crazy all along. Some thought she was doing drugs. And because Jihoon was so close with her, he was deemed crazy, too. But…the longer I’ve lived in that stupid fucking building, the more I wonder…was Yuna even crazy at all? If I’m honest, I think she was perfectly sane, but she just had the power somehow to see the shit that’s changing everyone in the building. Maybe I’m lucky because I spend more time here than at that place, so I can see what’s happening. But I don’t know who or what or why.”
“Can I ask…what do you think happened to Yuna?” Yoongi wondered slowly.
“Think she was either locked up in a mental hospital, or whatever she saw got to her,” he stated blankly. “Everyone saw the cops take her out, assuming she murdered _____, but they never investigate any of the other murders here. If they investigated _____’s, they’d know that Yuna didn’t do it.”
“You don’t think it was Yuna?” Yoongi interrupted.
“No,” Changbin replied surely. “They were best friends. I think, like every other murder, that whatever Yuna saw is killing people. I think it’s tied to the Westfields, and they must have connections with the police since they’re not doing anything about it. So they either threw her in a hospital or they let whatever’s in that building get her. Either way, she didn’t deserve it.”
“How do you know all this? And if you know this, why haven’t you just left?” Yoongi asked.
Changbin gave a small, sad smile, “Because it’s…fine. Nothing bad has happened to us and we don’t have the money to leave. Westfield is dirt cheap. We mind our business. If anything, we just wanna get the kid outta there before something happens to him. Me, Chan, and Minho have had rough lives. We’ve done shit we’re not proud of. Felix, though? He’s good through and through. He doesn’t deserve whatever’s going on there.”
“Don’t you want to try and stop it, then?” Yoongi continued. “At least for Felix?”
Changbin took a gulp of his drink before he looked at Yoongi solemnly, “I know you know more than us, and I don’t wanna know anymore than I already do. But we know your intentions are good. But, Yoongi…your actions might be stirring up whatever’s in that building. You’re putting a big-ass target on yourself, and I don’t want any part of it.”
Yoongi leaned in a little closer, his stare intense, “Then who can I go to for help? I really need more answers, Changbin. Please.”
Changbin stared back as he weighed his options, then sighed, looking back down at his drink, “I don’t know who knows what, but Namjoon’s a smart guy. There’s no way he wouldn’t have somewhat of an idea of what’s up with the place. But…”
Changbin paused so sigh, hanging his head, “Look, it’s a longshot he’ll even answer you – and it might even get you killed – but…Jungkook might be your best bet. He was the closest with Yuna so he’d probably know more about everything. But Jungkook doesn’t really talk to anyone anymore. Guy hardly leaves his apartment.”
Yoongi felt a little bit of relief, but also a little anxiety. While he had a lead for some answers, he knew that the closer he got to the answers he needed, the bigger the target on his back became. But he was in too deep now. He had to keep digging.
“Thanks, Changbin,” he said as he put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. Then he stood to leave.
Changbin grabbed Yoongi’s forearm but didn’t look at him, “It’s not safe to go back now. I’ll get you a room at the motel I stay at.“
“N-no, I can pay,” Yoongi insisted. “You said you can’t afford to move out, so–”
“It’s fine,” he assured him, “I get rooms for cheap because I flirt with the girl at the desk. Place isn’t much but…it’s safer than going back.”
Warnings - Not literal Infidelity, but they are on the verge of it. Mentions of alcohol abuse, Mentions of Self harm. (There are no heavy triggers, only slight mentions of it.) The warnings are limited to the first few chapters. It gets better i promise)
Summary - Love is indeed a beautiful feeling, but does not come without its obstacles. When your 7 loving, idol boyfriends think it’s better to date someone within the industry or like they put it “Someone who knows their world”, you have no choice but to accept their abrupt decision. Time goes by and you think you’re doing just fine, One long lost dream, One given up identity and one drunk mistake and a few clicks is all it takes until the limelight falls on you and living your life behind a camera is an option no longer available.
[ 12:23PM ] “You did what?” Yoongi asked again from the other line.
You did a cautious glance around you, careful not to make your voice too loud before you answer his inquiry since you were afraid that potential nosy co-workers will be able to eavesdrop. “I put a picture of the two of us.”
“Where?”
“Beside my monitor.”
“With only you and me?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t speak for about three seconds, causing you to think of all the possible worst scenarios that could bloom from your confession in that short amount of time. “What picture?”
You cleared your throat. “In the steak house this year.”
Ah, the ever so famous steak house picture. When you uploaded that on your IG account, specifically as a story, you got a bunch of replies from mutuals, all asking if you and Yoongi were finally dating after being close friends for God knows how long. You couldn’t blame them for thinking in such a way, considering that your smiles in the photo were too big to not be suspicious of—not to mention your heads too that were pressed together as you sat side by side, actually waiting for your other high school friends to arrive in the restaurant you planned to meet in. Some may even argue that your arms were linked beneath the view of the camera or perhaps your hands were intertwined.
“____—”
“It’s just a repellant,” you assured him immediately before he could protest.
“Huh?”
“A repellant,” you inhaled, “you know… like something to keep other people’s noses in my business. They just keep on setting me up with this one guy in the other department, Yoon. I couldn’t help it!” you practically hissed the last part, finally standing up and walking away from your desk to have some privacy.
“So, basically, what you’re saying is—you’re using me as a cover-up boyfriend?”
You pursed your lips. “Yeah, basically.”
He snorted at the ridiculousness of your actions. “Why me? You could have chosen Taehyung. The both of you would look more convincing.”
“Taehyung’s seeing someone. I wouldn’t want to cause complications in case this backfires.”
“And you didn’t think that would happen with me too?”
“Well, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone as well,” you reasoned. “I mean, you aren’t, are you?”
“Nope.”
“See? How could you anyways? You’re a freaking surgeon. You have no social life.”
“Uh, of course, I still have a social life?“
“Just because you see inpatients almost everyday via appointments doesn’t mean you have a social life.”
Yoongi laughed, a low kind of one that inevitably makes a grin appear on your lips. “Keep that attitude up and I’ll break up with you.”
You raised your eyebrows at the retort, intrigued by his fast agreeableness. “Wait a minute, does that mean you’re okay with this?”
“With the whole fake boyfriend stuff?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s just a picture.”
“And also fake relationship stories—just a heads up.”
You could see how he might have rolled his eyes at that statement despite only hearing his voice from the phone. “Okay, whatever, use me all you want.”
You squealed, visibly jumping and swaying side by side in giddiness. “Really?”
“Sure. Ruin all of my chances of ever dating someone.”
“Come on, it’s just going to be for the meantime—”
“I’m kidding.” He cut you off with a snort. “Dating is out of the picture too with my hectic schedule. So, do whatever you have to do.”
“For real?” you exclaimed again.
He laughed at your reaction. “Yes, ____.”
“Ah, I owe you so much, Yoon!”
He fondly made a sound of approval. “Treat me to dinner later for the first installment of your payment. I have some spare time.”
“Alright. I’ll treat you to anywhere you want!”
“I’m going to hold onto that.” He chuckled. “Anyways, is that all you called me for? I have to attend a conference in a few minutes.”
“Yup. That’s all.”
“Okay. See you later then.”
You nodded, the big grin still on your features. “See you. Looking forward to it.”
Yoongi hummed in a soft manner before hanging up.
As you began to stride back to your workstation, happy because of the success of your plan to convince him to agree in being your cover-up boyfriend, you walked past Jihye, one of your said nosy co-workers who seemed like she overheard a part of your conversation, smiling at you.
“Was that your boyfriend?” she asked.
You placed your phone back inside your pocket, a new type of giddiness erupting inside your chest. “Yeah.”
“Ooh, are you two having a date?”
You nodded in a seemingly proud fashion. “It’s just dinner.”
“Still, I’m jealous.” She sighed dreamily and teasingly at you, causing you to chuckle while she went on with her agenda before stopping by to engage in small talk.
You stayed in your spot longer than intended, thinking about the events that may happen because of your desperation to not be linked to that other person in the office—but you didn’t really care, to be honest, knowing that if it was going to be Yoongi, everything was going to flow smoother than reckoned.
At least, that’s what you thought.
note. just a very short drabble inspired by a scene in yumi’s cell ! hehe
THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED !♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)
↳ your protector ; a bts knight series coming soon
summary:you are a princess, next in line to the throne. with that responsibility comes danger and to protect you have your devoted knight. the only problem is the feelings you have for him.
a/n: inspiration hit me out of nowhere and i decided i’m obsessed with the knight/princess trope so enjoy all these scenarios i thought of.
kim namjoon;untitled;0.0k+ ; after an assassination attempt on you, the princess, the king decides to have a decoy take your place until the culprit is stopped. this leaves you in close quarters with your knight as you hid away living amongst commoners. having to pretend to be married for your cover story only exasperates the hidden feelings you have for your knight.
kim seokjin ;untitled;0.0k+; after your knight retires you get a replacement. a long war has recently ended leaving the land in peace, leaving many knights without any assignments. kim seokjin, a great war veteran is assigned as your new knight and he is not happy. his new assignment feels more like baby sitting than something worthy of a knight. will the two of you ever get along?
min yoongi;untitled;0.0k+ ; after the murder of your family and many of your close loved ones you are left next in line to the throne. the only thing is you have to wait until your next birthday. until then your uncle is in charge. he assigns you a new knight after the loss of your old one. you are bitter and upset and hate the thought of a new knight. but maybe he isn’t so bad after all?
jung hoseok ;untitled;0.0k+ ; you are in love with your knight but you’ve never said it out loud. after he leaves on a new assignment you scheme to run away to see him.
park jimin;untitled;0.0k+ ; you have been best friends with jimin as long as you’ve been alive. you’ve seen him through his training and had him at your side as your knight. but as turmoil moves through the kingdom he’s sent away to protect the people, leaving you worrying for him.
kim taehyung ;untitled;0.0k+ ; when a ball for suitors to approach you for your hand in marriage approaches you notice that your knight, taehyung, is starting to act weird. can you get to the bottom of the issue?
jeon jungkook;untitled;0.0k+ ; you have been in a secret relationship with your knight for some time. jungkook realized for you to have a future and for the better of the kingdom you need to move on from him. he breaks things off and leaves on a new assignment.
summary: you are a novelist who has lost your inspiration. when you stay in the odd quaint town of swan hills you are mesmerized by the house on the hill and when you hear the rumors of the man who lives there you find yourself even more intrigued. the townspeople claim he’s a monster but when you find yourself meeting him you start to realize that things are not what they seem. word count: 16k+ tags:yoongi x female reader, gothic!au, mystery, romance, fluff, angst, warnings:death mentions, abandonment issues, injury mention, violence, blood mentions, a/n:this has been so much fun to write and the fact that it’s a part of this collab makes it even better. thank you to @moon-write for all of her hard work in putting this together and the stunning banner. i was hoping to write more at the end but ran out of time. hopefully i can write an epilogue soon. i hope you enjoy!
Swan Hills, a beacon of tranquility, it was said. When a rough case of writer’s block beset you your manager insisted you get a change of scenery. When he suggested that, you imagined a beachside cottage or perhaps a cabin in the woods. A small town nestled on the coast of a lake wasn’t exactly what you imagined but who were you to argue. At this rate, if you didn’t have a new novel by the end of the year you might become obsolete as a novelist.
The rough road that nearly tore a wheel off of your carriage should have been your first red flag. The ride there was quite dreary but it wasn’t unusual for there to be some of that on the way to a beautiful place. Unfortunately, this was not the case here.
As the carriage approached the town the first thing of note was the wooden sign that looked like it had endured one too many storms. ‘Swan Hills’ it read alongside a carving of the bird itself; only the pure white you would expect from a swan was a charred black.
When your manager had presented the town to you it had sounded too cute. How were you supposed to write a dark mystery novel in a cute lakeside town? The reality of the town seemed a lot gloomier.
The sky was gray and the breeze chilly as it passed through your carriage. As you rode into town the buildings you saw were all old and run down but the people moving about the town made it clear it wasn’t abandoned.
It was interesting, it felt like you were stepping into a novel. It gave you hope that you would be able to reclaim your inspiration here. You had to.
Peering out the window you spotted a building at the top of a large hill overlooking the town. It was hard to make out the details of the house other than its large size. It was captivating, the cold gray sky behind it, the trees surrounding the outskirts of the area. You were mesmerized, had to know more about it.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the town hall. Your manager said that he would have the information on your accommodations in the town. At first, you thought it odd that a mayor would have the time to help with that but now that you had seen the small town first hand you weren’t shocked by it.
Stepping out you entered the building, it smelt of dust despite the inside being relatively well kept. An older woman sat at the desk, looking up at the sound of your entrance like you were the first person to step through the door in ages. Maybe you were.
“Good afternoon, it’s so good to see you. I hope that your trip treated you well. We’re so excited to have you here.” She said standing up. “The mayor is waiting for you, go ahead on in.”
“Thank you very much.” You said with a polite bow before heading to the door she waved to. You noticed one of your more popular novels on her desk as you passed it.
Entering the office it was rather small for what you would expect of a mayoral office. The man who sat behind the desk was quick to flash a big smile. He wore a suit that to his credit was rather nice for the town he lived in. It made you wonder if he was from around here, certainly you couldn’t buy a suit like that in town. He was older, perhaps in his late fifties. A crop of black hair that was kept rather short and blue eyes that felt just a bit too intent for your liking.
“Ah, we’ve been waiting for you!” He said in a boisterous voice standing up from his chair. “It’s such an honor to have you here.”
“Thank you for having me.” You said. “It’ll be nice to be away from the city for a while.” There was something about this man that didn’t sit right with you but you couldn’t exactly place it. Maybe he took money under the table from the city. You couldn’t imagine the city had much money to take but you had a writer’s mind that always ran away from you.
“Forgive me if the town’s description was slightly embellished.” The man said with a smile that made you uncomfortable. Slimy mayor, that was an archetype to write down in your notebook.
“It’s okay, honestly when I was told this was supposed to be a romantic lake-side town I was quite hesitant. This though, spooky and dreary, this is perfect for what I need.” You didn’t miss the way his lip curled in annoyance for just a moment at your description of the town.
“Swan Hills is an up-and-coming town, and this time of year can be a bit gloomy but spring is always beautiful here.” He said, reclaiming his upbeat mood. It was the middle of summer, what normal place was this gloomy in summer? “By the time you’ve had a taste of all Swan Hills offers I’m sure you’ll be writing home about it.”
“Perhaps.” You said. You hardly thought Swan Hills would appeal to anyone you knew. Other than fellow mystery novelists, you weren’t going to give them any chance at inspiration from this odd town.
“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant.” He said. “Or if you have any questions at all.”
“Ah, I do have one question.” You said remembering the captivating house you had seen perched on the hill before. “What’s the story with the house on the hill?” This time the mayor’s face didn’t hesitate to turn to disgust.
“It’s nothing of any interest, I can assure you that much.” He said curtly. That was surely a lie. Such a prominent house had to have someone of note in it. You had assumed it was his house and were hoping for a tour of it. What better inspiration than a large manor, a perfect setting for a mystery to unfold.
“Ahh, what a shame.” You said.
“Anyways,” The man said, brushing off his attitude and falling back into his previous persona. “The lodgings we have prepared for you are ready for you. Ms. Kim can show you to it.” He gestured to the door.
“Thank you for everything.” You said with another bow before leaving.
Ms. Kim, you now knew the woman’s name in the first room, was standing ready at the door with her coat on.
“C’mon dear, let me show you the way.” She said opening the door. Stepping outside she pointed to some of the shops nearby. “Food and anything else you can find here in town would be right around here.”
“Good to know.” You said stepping into your carriage. You could hear Ms. Kim give your driver the directions. You couldn’t imagine it being very far. After a moment she stepped in.
“It’s hardly far we could have walked but then you wouldn’t have your stuff.” She said. “It’s just up the road at the foothill.”
“Is there anything fun to do, like tourist things?” You asked to make casual conversation. You didn’t think you would have much time to do anything recreational, you didn’t think there was anything to do if you were being honest.
“Ah, lots of people like to go out on the lake. It’s quite peaceful. We’re hoping to open a theater one day but there just aren’t enough people for one these days.” She said.
“Do you get a lot of people moving in?” You asked.
“Hardly,” She said with a sad look in her eyes. “We hope that we will have more people soon. It would be nice to have more life in the city.” She said.
The carriage came to a stop and the two of you got out. Before you sat a small cottage, it was as she said, nestled at the foothill. The house you asked about earlier is even more clear from the spot here. From here you could make out more of the features of the house. The house also sat facing the lake.
“This is quite a lovely house but it’s been empty for quite some time.” She said using her key to open the door. “Don’t worry, we’ve cleaned it up for you. You’ll find plenty of firewood in here as well as outside. And lamps with oil too.” She said.
It felt rude to think it but you were shocked at how nicely it was cleaned up on the inside. You had expected the worst but you had gotten quite a warm welcome here. It was quaint, a far cry from your city apartment uptown but it was endearing.
“If you need anything just let us know, we’re in the office most of the day.” She said.
“Thank you very much.” You said with a warm smile. You appreciated the help from her. You walked with her back to the carriage. Your driver had unloaded your luggage from the cab and into the house. Your eye was caught again by the house and you wondered if you would get more information from Ms. Kim. “Before you go, do you know anything about that house?”
Ms. Kim’s face turned sour, a big difference from the warm smile before.
“Only that a wretched man lives there.” She nearly spits. “Stay as far away from that place as you can.”
“Wretched man?” You questioned, an eyebrow raised at the sweet woman’s sudden anger. The mayor had shown disdain but this was more interesting. Someone did live there, someone who seemed to have a bad reputation among at least two people. You loved a good mystery.
“I hate to even mention him.” She huffed. “That man, he’s done horrible things to this town. If you ask me he’s why we can’t keep anyone here. If they don’t leave because of the dark cloud that house casts on the town it’s because he’s done something to them.”
“Done something to them?” You questioned. You patted yourself on the back for asking her. This was good information.
“I think he’s to blame for some of the missing people.” She said quietly, a frantic glance to the house looming above the both of you. “People don’t want to believe it though.”
“Forgive me for bringing it up.” You said waving your hand, you felt bad at the skittish reaction she was having. “Please, let my driver take you back to the town hall on his way out.” You offered.
“Oh, it’s okay.” She said. “It’s such a short walk.”
“I insist, as a small thank you for your help.” You said.
“You’re very sweet.” She said with a smile, her anger from earlier long gone. “Thank you, dear.”
Watching the carriage drive away it set upon you that you were stuck here until you could finish your novel. Not to mention whatever mystery there was with the manor on the hill. The thought of it got your heart pumping, you loved getting to the bottom of things. A mysterious man accused of heinous crimes? A town that pushed people out?
Even with how painful your writer’s block had been you were optimistic this place would be quick to drive it away.
Unpacking you set up your typewriter at the desk in the den along with the rest of your personal effects. You made sure to get a fire going and light the lamps as night descended on Swan Hills.
Opening the front door of your cottage you sat on the porch drinking a warm cup of tea as your brain struggled to find the perfect plot for your next novel.
The sound of a piano caught your ear immediately in the empty night. The soft but slow melody was haunting, beautiful but it sent a chill down your spine. There was no question about it, the music came from the manor set above you.
Writing spooky and suspenseful novels was your profession, you didn’t scare easily. The rumors of the man in the house not far from you had been exciting, entertaining even not long ago. But as the melody floated down from the cold air above you there was a heavy feeling of fear resting in your chest.
Standing up you returned into the cottage, locking the door tightly behind you. Entering the bathroom you washed your face with some warm water hoping it would give you some comfort.
Reasoning with yourself you knew that the reality was he was probably just some grumpy old man who scared people off. The town itself was enough to scare people away. If this man was really taking people or worse someone would have stopped him by now, right?
The next morning came without anything eventful happening. The air was cold and windy as you stepped out of the cottage you were staying in. For your first day, you wanted to walk around the area and hope that you would find some inspiration. That usually did the trick for you.
The lakeside was dreary and gray, a far cry from the sunny water’s edge that your manager described to you. Stray driftwood rested on the water’s edge against the dirt there. The waters were empty of any fowl that you would normally expect in a lake. There were no swans to be seen. Talk about false advertising.
As you took in the scenery you thought about what kind of novel you wanted to write. You had written many mysteries, some set in isolated cabins, busy towns, and perfect-looking countrysides. You wanted something different, something, unlike anything you had written before. You had often written the antagonists as scorned family members, bitter lovers, and vengeful colleagues. It was starting to feel like you had covered everything you could think of.
As you returned to the cottage you looked up at the ominous house again. There was something about it that drew you to it. It inspired something in you, maybe just maybe it was what you needed to fuel your new story.
What if you went and got a closer look? No doubt the stories were exaggerated; it was bound to happen in such a boring town.
Walking along you heard a voice speak from above you.
“You’re that writer, aren’t you?” The young girl said she was sitting in a small tree, you hadn’t even seen her in the first place. Looking at her you didn’t miss the book in her hand.
“I do write.” You said. “Not much these days it seems.” You laughed at your own joke. Your eyes caught the title of the book, it was one of your more obscure works. Something someone would only have if they followed your work closely. The air of indifference she put off made you smirk.
“What brings someone like you to this run-down town? Can’t imagine anyone coming here voluntarily.” She said.
“I’m hoping to work on a new book.” You said. “Not sure what the plot of it is yet.”
“Well if any town is the right setting for a creepy novel it’s this place.” She said.
“How long have you lived here?” You asked. Maybe you would get better information from a teenager, adults always had their own biases but younger people tended to have more direct views.
“Pretty much my whole life.”
“What do you know about that house?” You asked, pointing to it.
“If you ask most of the adults they’ll tell you that the man that lives there is up to no good. That he’s the reason no one wants to live here, why business is driven away, why people go missing.” She said.
“What do you think?”
“I think that I’ve never seen him leave the house. That from the property you would think that whoever lived there is long gone.” She said. “That’s a lot to blame on someone that you never see.”
“That’s a good point.” You said. “Who went missing?”
“Three girls, all of them in their early twenties.” She said. “The first four years ago, the next three, and the last girl two years.”
“That’s odd.” You said. “And no one ever found anything?”
“You’d have to ask the sheriff in town. He was supposed to investigate.” She explained. “People say their pets have gone missing too because of him. The shopkeeper in town is always complaining about her missing cat, she blames him. ‘Oh my poor Mr. Mittens, that evil man killed him.’ She’s always whining. Don’t bring it up, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your information.” You said. Missing girls, missing cats, it seemed odd no one went up there to confront anything. “What’s your name?”
“Bella.” She said.
“Nice to meet you, do you want an autograph?” You asked.
“Uh, no.” She said suddenly flustered. “I haven’t even read this book.” She said quickly, putting it in the bag hanging from her shoulder.
“Ah, forgive me.” You said trying to hide the smile at her forced indifference. “Let me know what you think of it. I’ll see you around then.”
“Bye.” She said.
Mulling over the new information you walked into your cottage grabbing something to eat before making some coffee. Sitting down at your typewriter you tapped out some thoughts onto paper. The mystery of the house on the hill was pulling you in, what if you were to write about it? What if you searched for the answers to the real mystery yourself and wrote down an embellished version of it as you went.
Once you ran the idea through your head you realized it was perfect. If something was pulling you in of course it would pull your readers in as well.
The sound of typing could be heard throughout the afternoon.
By the time evening fell you were happy with the start you had to your new novel. You had no idea where things would go but that would make it even more interesting and if the truth was boring then you would simply make something up that would fit.
The urge to walk up to the house on the hill was overwhelming and no doubt it would provide you with some amount of interest to write about once you were home.
No risk, no reward you reasoned as you grabbed a coat and scarf. Despite it being summer it was oddly chilly at times. You chalked it up to the lake. You brought a small lantern with you but left it unlit until you needed it. The light of the full moon was enough to show you the way. The climb up the hill was steeper than it had looked initially. As you got closer you saw the tall brick walls that surrounded the property, overgrown ivy climbed the sides of it. A large iron gate stood at the front.
You had hoped there wouldn’t be a gate so you could easily get a look but it seemed things wouldn’t be so easy. The gate looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. You followed the wall around the manor once you had gotten about halfway around you spotted a section of the wall that had tumbled down, bricks laying around an opening big enough to slip through.
Perhaps it was a bad idea but your curiosity was often too strong for your own good. Moving quietly you slipped through the opening. Looking around you saw what looked like it had been a previous garden. In contrast to the overgrown ivy on the brick, the plants here were long dead, dry branches sticking everywhere.
Moving through the dead garden you saw a gazebo, the paint chipped away and the plants that no doubt had once been lush and green were crisp and dead. There were old stone statues throughout the yard. You imagined if they were accompanied by lively plants they would look beautiful but alongside the dead plants, they looked creepy. You couldn’t stop the shiver down your spine as you stared at the stained statue of an angel as a cold breeze moved by.
As you got closer to the manor. The shingles on the house in some places were falling off. The dark paint faded. It was dark inside, no sign of anyone living there. A part of you wondered if maybe no one was living in the house anymore and it was merely an empty building they could use as a scapegoat for the town’s issues.
Looking back to the garden you noticed something odd, near the house there was a stone path that led to an area with a circle. Around the stone circle, there were three rose bushes that were alive, not just alive but beautiful. The one in the middle was a stunning red, the one on the left a sleek black, and the one on the right a pure white.
Roses were not plants that were known to thrive on their own, even when they were taken care of they could be hard to keep alive. If there was no one taking care of them they would no doubt be as dead as the rest of the garden.
Reaching out you took a petal in your hand feeling the soft texture against your skin.
A chill ran down your spine and you looked up to the large window only to see a figure standing there with a candle in hand. Even from far away, you could make out a younger-looking man with nearly white hair that stood staring down at you.
You held back a scream of fear as you dropped your unlit lantern and took off running to the opening you had squeezed in through. You didn’t stop running until you got back to your cottage. Chest heaving you laid down on the couch trying to process what had happened.
After taking a warm shower and changing into bedclothes you had enough time to reason with yourself. He was just standing there, it was just a man standing there no matter how ghostly he had seemed. You were the one trespassing on his property.
Despite your logical reasoning you still found yourself unable to find any sleep. Instead, you used the dark hours of the night to write more about what had just happened. The least you could do was use your eventful night for inspiration.
The next morning you woke up after falling asleep for a few hours at your desk. In the light of day, the memory of last night felt unreal. A part of you wondered if it had just been a dream but the lack of lantern in your house reminded you that it had happened.
It was easier in the morning light to believe that it had just been an annoyed homeowner looking down at you from his house but the thought of the girls who went missing crept up in your mind. Had they too been too curious? Was that the last thing they had seen?
No, you were being ridiculous.
You remembered the young girl mentioning the sheriff was supposed to investigate the missing girls. Maybe he had more information, maybe he did investigate them and nothing turned up.
After eating breakfast and changing you walked into town, it wasn’t hard to spot the sheriff’s station out of the handful of buildings there.
Walking in you were shocked at the size of the building. It was smaller than the shoe box apartments in the city. There was one desk and a cell attached to the open area. Behind the desk was a man with his feet kicked up on the table and a book resting on his face, not that it did anything to mask his loud snoring.
“Ahem.” You coughed loudly but the man remained asleep. You rolled your eyes looking at the door. Opening it again you slammed it shut loudly this time the noise startled the man out of his sleep as he nearly fell out of his chair. “Ahh sorry, the wind caught the door.” You apologized with your best effort to look sorry.
“Sorry,” He said, sitting up in his chair. “Just resting my eyes for a moment.”
“Of course.” You said.
“You’re the VIP in town,” He said, realizing who you were. You were sure they didn’t get very many visitors here. “I’ve made sure to have my best officer patrolling constantly while you are here just in case you get any unruly fans.”
“Very thoughtful of you.” You said. “I can see how hard at work you’ve been.” You couldn’t help making the comment but it seemed to go over his head.
“Of course, I take the safety of this town very seriously.” He said with a nod.
“I wasn’t here about myself though, I was interested in something I heard around town. They say that there’s been some missing girls in the past couple of years.” The man looked hesitant. You were sure that he was going to withhold information if you didn’t ask this right. “It’s just in my new story I have the same thing going on, I was hoping for some realism in the story and I hoped that a real-life sheriff like you could tell me how the process of an investigation goes.”
The man’s face turned from cautious to interested.
“Of course I’d be happy to offer my experience.” He said sitting up straight. “I’ve been the sheriff of this town for nearly fifteen years now. I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s always been peaceful and quiet but four years ago one of the young women in the town went missing. Delany Rose, ah her parents are still so broken up about it. She was beautiful, always won the beauty pageant in town.”
You wondered how much competition there was for a beauty pageant in such a small town.
“Her father owns the general store here, her mother well she’s quite the gossip in town but don’t tell her I said that. Delany was always a smart girl, quite the star, always seemed too big for this city. One night she was gone, the last person to see her was old Miss Kim. She saw her by the road that leads up to the manor on the hill.”
“Did you talk to the man who lives in the house?” You wondered.
“Ah well I spoke to a man there but he said he hadn’t seen her.”
“What about nearby towns? Did you ever see if she was there?” You asked.
“Ah well, the closest town is a bit of a ride so I never got around to it.” He said sheepishly.
“So the most you did was talk to people in town then?”
“Well, yeah.” He said.
Maybe you should have expected a small town wouldn’t have a sheriff that was ambitious enough to solve the case of a missing girl but you had thought since there were so few people that they would care enough about each other to get to the bottom of things and find out what happened to one of their own.
“So I presume that’s all you did for the others too?” You questioned.
“Yes.” He said.
“Well thank you for your time.” You said with a sigh before leaving. Despite the only evidence being the missing girl being seen near the road that leads to the house on the hill that was all, they needed to accuse the man living there of kidnapping or killing young women.
It was shocking that they wouldn’t put more effort into people disappearing. So much for small towns caring.
As you walked back to the cottage you remembered him mentioning a woman that had seen the girl before she disappeared. You bookmarked her name in your head, maybe you could talk to her to get more information eventually.
You spent the day editing what you had written so far but you couldn’t help the thought of the missing girls. Was he to blame? There wasn’t enough evidence to support it but at the same time, there was hardly enough investigation. Asking a man one question was hardly going to pull an answer from him. They should have at least searched the house. And he didn’t even check nearby towns, what if she had just moved without telling anyone?
The rest of the night was spent making dinner before curling up next to the fireplace with a book you had been meaning to read for a long time.
No matter how much you pushed it off you couldn’t get rid of the thought of going back to the house. You did need to get your lantern back, granted you could easily buy a new one but you liked having an excuse to go back.
Maybe you were like Icarus, flying too close to the sun waiting for something horrible to happen before you stopped. They said curiosity killed the cat but people often forget that satisfaction brought it back.
In the least, if you died trying to solve a mystery and write a novel at least someone else could write a cool story about you. You made a mental note to write down everything in case you did die.
The next day came and you mentally prepared yourself to return to the manor. You considered doing it in the middle of the day, maybe it would seem less scary but you also thought it might be easier to spot you. Sneaking in and out in the dead of night sounded like a better plan. You weren’t exactly sure what you would find there but you hoped for the best.
After spending your day editing you waited for nightfall before heading out. The walk felt shorter the second time around, your steps less unsure. This time there was nearly no light, you hadn’t realized the cloud cover that was blowing in until the harsh wind reached you. The wind pushed your thin coat back along with your hair. You wished that you had brought a better coat with you but it was summer, you didn’t even think you’d need one at all.
Once you reached the same place you squeezed in through, you took a look around before entering the garden again. It looked the same for the most part, although it was harder to see. You found yourself tripping over stray pieces of stone that laid on the ground.
After some searching you found the rose bushes where you had dropped your lantern the night before. That’s when the sky lit up with blinding light. Thunder roared as rain suddenly poured down. You had never seen a storm start so quickly in your life. It was no quaint storm either, just after one bolt struck another one did not far from the garden.
Clutching your lantern you panicked, before you could move towards the exit a bolt struck the ground where you would have walked to leave.
There was only one option, to go inside the house. At this point nothing inside the house could be more terrifying than being struck by lightning. You told yourself that life was not like your stories, that the man living in this house was most likely just that, a man.
As you ran to the door you hoped that proved true. Banging on the door in a panic you hoped someone would answer or else you would kick the door down yourself.
After what felt like an hour but was in reality only a few minutes, the door opened to reveal an older man in a suit. Not the white haired man you had spotted in the window the night before.
He looked bewildered, shocked even.
“I’m so sorry, I got caught in the storm.” You quickly said. “I nearly got struck by lighting-”
“Come in,” He said, waving his hand. It seemed he was over his confusion at having a visitor and had become worried for you.
The house is something out of one of your novels. It’s elegant but looks forgotten to time. Despite it being clean and well kept, much unlike the outside, there’s something about it that feels empty. Maybe it’s the silence, a large house like this would only make sense if you had a family living here along with staff to care for everything.
He ushers you from the entryway into a sitting room.
“Please sit,” You hesitate, you’re soaked to the bone from the onslaught of rain, you don’t want to ruin the furniture. “It’s okay,” He reassures.
Not wanting to be rude, you sit, thankful that things are going well so far. No murderous man living here, that you’ve encountered so far.
The man looks at you for a moment unsure. “Let me speak to the lord of the house and I will return.” He said, before you could even ask a question he disappeared behind a door.
It’s odd sitting there freezing. All you had intended on doing was getting your lantern back and sneaking a few peaks at the manor but here you sat inside it. So far it was hardly the horror house that the town had made it out to be.
A part of you is disappointed, you had hoped for a good mystery to inspire your next novel. It seemed you would have to take the bones of reality and embellish till you had something readable.
It’s not long before he returns, when he does he is carrying a few things. The most obvious is the tray of tea but it takes you a moment to notice the neatly folded clothes that he has.
“The lord of the house requested I bring you some dry clothes and warm tea.” He said as he placed the tray on the table. “There’s a guest bath behind that door,” He gestures to one of the doors lining the room. “You are welcome to stay for the night, it seems the storm will continue for quite a while and it would be dangerous to travel home.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” The dry clothes that he hands you are a dream. Anything would be better than the freezing clothes you’re wearing now. You excuse yourself to change into the dry clothes. He was also kind enough to provide you a towel to dry yourself off with. By the time you return to the living room you feel like a new person. Sitting down you take a sip of the tea he’s made. It’s the perfect temperature after the time that’s passed.
“You’re new here,” He said, taking a seat across from you. You assume they don’t get visitors if his reaction to you at the door is any clue. He seems eager to chat despite you being a complete stranger who was trespassing.
“I’m visiting,” You explain. “I write books for a living, I came here to write my next novel.”
“Oh, you write?” He asks. “I’ve read quite a few books, it’s really all there is to do in my spare time. What’s your name?” You tell him and see his eyes light up. “Oh! I love your novels so much, I’m quite the fan.”
It’s endearing, the way he rattles on about your plots and the guesses he had for the culprit in your books. It makes you happy to see someone give your work such thought. At the end of the day what gives you a living is the purchase but what keeps you motivated to write is how much people love what you write.
“If I’m being honest the reason I was up here was because this house is so mesmerizing,” You explain. “I’m trying to figure out the plot for my next book and this house keeps drawing me to it. I was hoping it would spark something for me.” You tell him. You watch as his eyes light up.
“Well, I can ask the lord of the house but if you want to see anything I could show you.” He says, almost as giddy as a child. “I would love to help if the lord doesn’t mind.”
“That would be quite the help.” You tell him. In reality, the man who you saw in the window is what is drawing you here more than anything but at the same time you are amazed by the house. You had only seen a fraction but you would love a tour if it was offered. It would be the perfect setting for a novel and seeing it first hand would help leagues in describing it.
“The lord of the house-” You question. “What kind of man is he?”
“Ah, I shouldn’t say much. He’s a very private man.” He said, his demeanor shifting from excited to guarded in a moment’s time. “He’s a good man and that’s all I’ll say.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. I’ve already done enough.” You said.
“I can take you to a guest room for the night-” He says.
“The couch is fine, I hate to bother you any more.” You explain.
“It’s okay-”
“The couch is fine.” You insist.
“Let me grab you some bedding then.” He said, not wanting to push it.
He returned moments later with a pillow and blankets in arm.
“If there’s anything else you need, please just give a shout and I’ll help you.” He said.
After he leaves it feels odd being in a stranger’s house alone. Especially such a grand one at that. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been to nice homes in your life, rich people were always throwing house parties and inviting you as some token guest. But this manor was different from the usual city mansion. It was far bigger than the ones in the city and the ornate decoration was unique.
You fixed the pillows and blankets onto the couch, gazing at the burning hearth for a moment. The candles that had been burning for light that hung from the wall suddenly went out and you felt yourself tensing in fear. Glancing at them you could see that the reason was that they had burnt to the bottom of their wick but it didn’t take away how ominous it had felt.
The low light of the hearth was all that was left. You supposed it was good that it was darker so you could fall asleep. That’s what you told yourself as you laid down on the couch, getting comfortable.
Surprisingly you fell asleep quite fast. It seemed the night’s events had exhausted you enough.
A creak in the floor boards wakes you from your sleep. The room is dark now, the embers in the fireplace barely glowing enough to illuminate the exposed brick surrounding it. Opening your eyes slowly you glance around the room without moving.
There’s a shadow in the room with you, perhaps ten feet away from you and it’s taller than the small man who was the butler of the house. Your breath leaves your body as you paralyze in fear. Before fight or flight can kick in, the shadow leaves the room, creaking footsteps with it.
Finally you take the breath you had been holding and try to calm yourself. Was that the lord of the house? As the butler had referred to him. Was he going to do something to you? The thought of the missing girls comes to mind and you wonder just how stupid you are to have come here by yourself. Even if you did get out safe and the man was harmless you could have ended up in a really bad situation.
Even more exhausted you fall asleep thinking of ways you could incorporate your eventful night into your novel.
When you woke again the sun was streaming in through the window that wasn’t far from the couch you had slept on. The events of the previous night came to mind but in the light of day they felt less daunting. Had you just dreamed it? It wouldn’t be unheard of. You weren’t a stranger to odd dreams.
“Ah, good morning.” The butler said as he entered the room. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you again.” You said.
“Would you like some tea or coffee? Anything for breakfast?” He asked.
“Oh no, that would be too much. I’ve already intruded enough.” You said, waving your hands.
“It would be no problem.” He said.
“It’s okay,” You said. “I should get home so I can get some work done.”
“Whatever works best for you, miss.” He said.
“Thank you, once again, for everything.” You said as you gathered yourself. “And give my regards to the lord of the house as well.”
“Of course.” He said.
After bidding a goodbye, you left, trekking down the hill. Not missing out on getting a look at the garden in daylight as you passed by.
It felt like a fever dream more than anything else, everything that had happened. You weren’t exactly sure what to think of it all. The only person you had met in the house was more than kind. No hint of anything suspicious or disturbing. But you wondered, had you really seen a shadowy figure in the night? Were there more mysteries to find in the manor?
There was that curiosity in you that was impossible to sate. A part of you that wanted any excuse to return and uncover more information. That’s when it hit you, what if you brought a gift to show your thanks? You were in fact very thankful, you didn’t know what would have happened if their doors hadn’t been opened to you and the butler had shown nothing but kindness. The least you could do was get a gift for him. If you happened to see anything else or find something out that would only be a bonus.
You resolve to find a nice gift basket, although you remember you are in a small town that has next to nothing. You decided to go to the general store in town.
As you approach the store front you don’t miss the bulletin in front with papers that say ‘Missing Cat’ along with a very in depth description of a cat. All black except for a bit of white at the tails end along with the odd trait of an extra claw on his front paws. “Mr. Mittens.” You read to yourself. You recall someone mentioning the storekeeper was obsessed with their missing cat.
The encounter with the storekeeper is pretty much what you expected after interacting with some of the town’s character. She doesn’t miss a chance to mention her missing cat, asking you to keep an eye out. You hold your tongue at mentioning the cat’s been gone for months, did she really think she’d find it.
The store’s inventory is about what you’d expect but you manage to find enough decent things to make a gift basket that’s general enough to suit anyone’s likes. Taking the basket home you wonder if returning tomorrow is too soon.
When you get home you don’t waste time in getting your desk setup to write. You feel inspired for the first time in a while and you know not to let that get away from you. Using your previous night as a template you write out some dramatic scenes making sure to embellish them as much as you can.
Using the day you manage to get a lot of work done. By the time it’s dinner you pack up your writing stuff and start making some food. You keep a window open at the cabin, hoping to hear a hint of the melancholy music you had heard before but it’s quiet for the night.
The next day you find yourself wondering when is an appropriate time to drop by. You don’t want to go too early but you also don’t want to make the walk up there in the dark again. After eating lunch you decide now is as good a time as any.
Yesterday you had taken the time to put the gift basket together, it wasn’t anything impressive. Especially compared to what you would normally get as a gift in the city. You hoped the assorted snacks would be enough of a thank you.
When you knock on the door of the manor it opens with a loud creak. You glance around looking for any sign of the butler but he’s nowhere to be found. You step inside wondering if you should just leave it on the table in the entryway but you hear a gentle melody coming from further inside the house.
You know you should leave, it’s the safe thing to do and the polite thing but you can’t stop your curiosity. It’ll be the death of you one day, you know it.
As you walk into the living room you had slept in the other night you hear the music coming from upstairs, thankfully the staircase is easy to find. You walk with soft steps, hoping to avoid making too much noise. When you reach the second floor you can see a large black grand piano sitting at a large window that faces the garden.
On the bench you see a man with blond hair so light it almost looks white. In the sunlight you can see more of a yellow tone. You realize that this is most likely the man you had seen in the window. You get a bit closer before stopping where you are listening to the music he’s playing. It’s beautiful and sad at the same time. You had heard many musicians, on street corners, on big stages, but none had ever played you something that made you feel this way.
You move to take another step closer but you step on a squeaky floor board. The music comes to a stop with a clashing of notes. His head snaps to where you are, eyes wide in shock.
“I’m sorry,” You are quick to apologize. “The door was open, I came with a gift as a thank you for your hospitality the other night. I presume you’re the lord of the house?”
The gift basket is heavy in your arms. He stands stepping closer to you without a word. He examines the gift basket for a moment before taking it from your hands.
“I’m sorry for intruding, I really hate to bother you.” You said, it was hard not to ramble nervously in the awkward silence.
“Thank you,” He said, his voice soft. It would have been easy not to hear him.
This is probably the best chance you have to ask him about everything in the town, the rumors. There isn’t exactly an easy way to ask about missing girls when he’s the one people seem to blame. You wanted answers but you weren’t going to be rude to someone who had been kind enough to let you in on a stormy night.
“I’m new to town, I’m an author.” You explained, unsure of what else to say. “I’m trying to work on a new novel so I got away from the city to try and help for some inspiration.”
“What’s your name?” He asked. You tell him and he gives a thoughtful look. “I’ve never read any of your books but I haven’t seen a new book in a long time.” He explained.
“Ah well I’ve only been publishing books for about six years.” You explain. “I’ve been writing since I was a child though.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything but he does seem interested, to your surprise.
“Your butler, he’s a good man, very kind.” You said. “I know I already said it but I appreciate the hospitality. That was a nasty storm, do you get many here?”
“At times. The lake is large enough that it makes the storms worse.” He said.
“Speaking of your butler? Is he okay? I didn’t see him.” You asked.
“He just went into town, not this one, the bigger one nearby, for supplies.” He said.
“Ah, yes. The store here doesn’t have much.” You said. “And what it does have is rather marked up in price.”
There was a pause for a moment.
“I’m sorry, I’ll get going. I know you weren’t expecting anyone.” You said. “Thank you, again.”
He simply nodded.
“Good day.” You said as you retreated down the stairs.
“Good day.” His voice was quiet still as he said his good bye.
As you walked down the hill, wind gently ruffling your hair, you thought about the man you had spoken too. He was quiet but from what you could sense he was soft in demeanor, different but nothing about him seemed sinister as the town had depicted him as. You couldn’t get his gentle brown eyes that had hesitantly met yours out of your head.
Days passed and you worked more on your novel, in between you took walks on the lakeside and spoke to different townspeople. The census you got from everyone seemed to be the same. The only person who’s opinion seemed to differ was the teenager you had spoken to. It wasn’t uncommon for you to bump into them. You would ask some questions, they would answer candidly despite their indifferent demeanor and you would be on your way.
It was one day when you ran into them that they gave you a good lead on information.
“If you want information, the person who’s seen the most here is old lady Mai. She’s lived here longer than anyone else. She knows more about anything than anyone else.” She said, “She’s out of town but it’s probably worth a trip to you.”
With that you didn’t hesitate to follow her directions. Maybe it was a bit of a stretch to follow a teenager’s directions to the outskirts of town but you wouldn’t say no to a lead even if it came up empty.
The house was old, that much was evident. But it wasn’t exactly run down, it looked like someone took care of the house. It was nestled far back in a forest outside of downtown about an hour’s walk away.
Approaching the door, you knocked confidently. After a few moments you heard shuffling before the door opened.
“Hello?” An older woman answered the door. She looked curious, no doubt unfamiliar with people knocking at her door.
“Hello, I’m sorry to bother you but I was hoping to talk to you if you had some time.” You said. “I’m an author doing research for a new book and I had some questions about this town. I was told you’ve lived here longer than anyone else.”
“I have, I know far more than most in this town.” She said, “Come in, ask your questions.” She said turning around with a wave of her hand inviting you in.
Without a question you followed her into the kitchen in her house, she gestured to a chair and you sat down. She grabbed a kettle from the stove, pouring two mugs on the table. She slid one over to you, keeping the other one.
“What do you want to know?” She asked as she sat down. It seemed she was a straight-to-the-point kind of woman.
“Why does the town fear the man who lives in that manor so much?”
“It’s in the mayor’s best interest.” She says cryptically. You want to complain that she doesn’t answer directly but you appreciate the anticipation.
“Why would he care?” You ask.
“It goes back almost thirty years ago.” She explains. “Once upon a time the Min family was the heart of this town. Back then there were far more people living here too. He ran a business, a good one, out of Swan Hills. It made the town thrive. He took good care of the people who worked for him. The mayor used to work with him, he was an important man in the company but he was greedy. He wanted to take over after him but then he had a son and the mayor knew one day that the company would go to his son before it ever went to him.”
“And the Min family lived in the manor?” You ask but she is indifferent to your questions.
“The mayor split off and made his own company but he was not a good business man on his own, he was too quick to cut corners and disloyal to the people that worked for him.” She explained. “Years later the Min family died in a boat accident, all except their son. He was too young at the time so the company went to his father’s trusted business partner but he moved the company into the city. After that most people left with no livelihood to be had here anymore. The city became desolate except for a small amount that stayed.”
“Did the mayor stay?” You asked. It seems this time she entertains your question.
“He left for the city with most. There he was able to get his business off the ground, much easier to scam people in a city with hundreds of thousands of people. Once he did well for himself he returned and became mayor after hours had passed. It seems he has some obsession with this town.” She said.
“It’s that easy to become mayor here?” You questioned.
“In such a small town a man with a lot of money has a lot of pull.” She said. “He invested in the area hoping to make it a landmark vacation spot, hoping people would buy the property he bought for far more than he got it for. The problem is most people who visit find the town run down and creepy, a big part due to the manor overlooking the town. The rumors the locals started about missing girls and dead animals drove everyone away. No one wants to visit much less buy anything to return to. He’s tried a lot but nothing works.”
“He’s a fool for trying to sell this place like some beach side spot.” You said.
“That’s why he invited you here no doubt, he probably hopes you’ll buy a home here so he can tell everyone a big author has a vacation home here. He’s desperate, he knows nothing will work for him.”
“So the man in the house, he’s the son of the man who died?” You asked.
“He is.” She answered. Your heart sank thinking back to him, thinking back to the sad music he plays. How long had he lived there with no one other than the butler with him?
“Thank you,” You said. “I truly appreciate your time. If you ever need anything, I’ll be in town for a while if you ever need anything. I’m in a cottage near the lakeside.”
“Thank you, it’s not often people find themselves out here. It’s nice to have some company.” She said.
After your goodbyes you returned to town thinking about everything you learned. It only seemed there was more to this mystery. The man that lived in the manor was evidently a lonely orphan who had been isolated from the world. That plus the time you had spent around him had made you even more endeared towards him. You found yourself wanting to clear his name of the awful rumors that had been spread about him but you didn’t think it was your place.
That didn’t mean you didn’t want to know more about him. That’s when you came up with the idea to bring him your books. You had brought with you a few extra copies of the novels you had written just in case you met anyone who might want to read them. You gathered that he might be a reader and if he hadn’t seen a new book in so long it might be something he would enjoy.
You gather the courage to visit again. With a small chest carrying all your books you make the trek up the hill to the manor in the afternoon. Knocking on the door, the butler answered after a moment. He looked surprised by your appearance.
“Oh, miss. Good to see you again.” He said. “Can I help you?”
“I just wanted to stop by to drop this off for-” You realized that you still hadn’t learned the man’s name. “-for the lord of the house.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Min.” He said. “Come in, let me notify him.”
Standing in the entry way you waited for the man to return. What surprised you was instead of the butler returning, the man with blond hair returned. He looked cautious but you figured if he came out to see you rather than having his butler talk to you it meant something.
“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you again.” You said, setting the chest on the table there. “I brought you some of my novels, if you were interested.”
He looked at you for a moment before looking at the chest. He unhooked the latch, opening it taking in the books there.
“You can read them in any order, they are stand-alones.” You explained. Just as you moved to gesture at one of the books you were startled by a cat jumping onto the table.
“Sorry,” He said.
The cat let out a small meow looking to you for attention. It was black with white at the tip of it’s tail but what caught your attention was the paws, it had an extra claw. That’s when it clicked, this was the cat the lady at the general store claimed was missing. It seemed it was here all along.
“Is this your cat?” You asked curious if it was the same cat, it would be odd if it wasn’t.
“He showed up one day in the garden.” He said. “I pet him for a while but when I went inside he meowed at the door non-stop. Ever since then he has moved in.”
“The woman in town claims this cat is missing, blames you for killing it.” You said, feeling out if he had heard all the claims the town has made. The look on his face is blank, he doesn’t seem shocked.
“A lot of people claim a lot of things.” He said, his gaze on the cat as he ran his fingers along it’s pelt.
“It seems that way.” You said. “If you read the books, I’d love to hear what you think about them.”
“Thank you.” He said.
“Before I go, I realize I never got your name.” You said remembering before you left without it again.
“Yoongi.” He said. “Min Yoongi.”
When you receive a letter a few days later you’re surprised. The only person who has this address is your manager and it’s not from him. The letter is sealed with an ornate wax seal. Opening it you realize it’s from Yoongi. It’s an invitation for dinner. It was the last thing you expected but it had you excited. What had started off as interest for inspiration was quickly turning into personal interest and you found yourself thinking of any excuse to go back to that manor to see him.
You find yourself at the door to the manor yet again. You hadn’t brought any outfits that would suit a nice dinner you were used to in the city but you assume that this wouldn’t be as formal. You hope at least.
“Good to see you again,” The butler answers the door with a smile. You wonder if you’re the first guest since the Min family passed. You wonder if they ever saw anyone other than each other.
“Thank you for having me.” You said.
“The lord of the house insisted.” He said. “It’s nice to host someone for a meal, it’s been ages.”
The butler leads you into the dining room, pulling a seat out for you. You thank him as you sit down.
“He’ll be here in a moment, let me get the appetizer.” He said before leaving out of a door that was opposite of the way you came in.
It was uncomfortably silent as you waited but after a few moments the door opened, a different one than the butler had used. In walked Yoongi, he was dressed far nicer than you, in a sleek black blazer and a white shirt under.
“I’m glad you could come.” He said with a small bow before sitting down.
“Thank you for inviting me.” You replied.
Just then the butler returned with the appetizer, setting it down on the table.
“That smells amazing.” You said. “Thank you.”
The two of you started eating, you were thinking about what to say but before you could Yoongi spoke, surprising you.
“I read your books.” He said. “I enjoyed them.”
“Oh, which ones?” You asked.
“All of them.” He said plainly. It had only been a few days since you had given him the books.
“Really?” You said surprised.
“I haven’t read a new book in forever, I was a bit excited.” He said, sounding almost boylike. You let out a small laugh.
“Well I hope they were good compared to the classics. I know modern literature can be lacking in comparison at times.”
“I found it refreshing. I couldn’t put them down.” He said.
He explained his opinion of each book at your request. He explained the characters that he liked and the twists that shocked him. He was honest about certain points in the book but overall was very impressed with them. You loved anytime you could talk to someone about your books.
“What is the novel you’re working on now about?” He asked.
“Well, actually I was struggling for a long time on what to write but when I heard the rumors in the town about your manor and well, about you I thought it was a good idea for a story. Granted, I’m exaggerating a lot for the book.” You explained. You were hesitant, you hoped he wasn’t offended by what you were writing about.
What you didn’t expect was for him to burst out laughing. It’s a few moments before he stops laughing.
“Sorry, I just- That’s the last thing I would have expected.” He said, still a bit breathless from his laughter. He’s cute when he laughs, you think to yourself. He’s cute when he’s all mysterious but you ignore that thought.
“I’m sorry, I hope it doesn’t offend you. If it bothers you I can change the plot-”
“No, no.” He assures you. “It’s just you’ll find that the reality is quite boring in comparison to what the town talks about.”
“And what is the reality?” You question. You didn’t think it would be so easy to get to the bottom of it all.
“The animals they claim I’ve killed are just animals that grew tired of their owners and made their way up here.” He explained. “I’ve fed them and they’ve chosen to stay here.”
“I can see that from Mr. Mittens.” You mention the cat you saw here the other day.
“And the girls that have gone missing aren’t dead or trapped in my basement, they were just people who hated small towns and wanted bigger things in life.” He explained.
“That is true.” The butler said as he stepped in with two plates of food. “I’ve run into them in the bigger towns around here on my supply runs. They’re doing quite well for themselves.”
“I figured as much, I spoke to the sheriff about it and he said he hadn’t searched any further than the town.” You said. “I’m not surprised, reality rarely is as dramatic as novels. Which is for the better more often than not.”
The dinner goes well, Yoongi is more talkative once you get him going. He feels more open, you wonder if him reading your work is what spurred this on. Although your novels might seem far away from your personality they are a unique insight into how your brain works. Perhaps knowing more about you through your books puts him at ease.
You insist that the butler eats with you but he insists he had already eaten before preparing the meal for you.
After sitting and talking for quite a while following dinner, Yoongi offers to move into the sitting room. On a couch in front of the hearth you talk for hours more. It’s only when you both grow tired that you think about going home.
As he walks you to the door he asks if you feel comfortable walking home in the dark. A kindness considering he knows of your late night adventures through his back yard. You can tell a part of him wants to offer to walk you home as he walks you to the gate but you can see the discomfort creep onto his face as he nears the edge of his property. Had he left the brick walls that surrounded the house since his parents had died?
“If you even want to, you could write here.” He offered as you get ready to part ways. “It might help, with inspiration.” He says.
“Thank you, that’s a kind offer.” You say. You wonder if it’s just an excuse to see you again. You hope. “I would like to take you up on that.”
“Anytime you want, morning, afternoon, evening.” He said.
“Thank you,” You tell yourself that it would no doubt help to write here but you know you would take any excuse to see him again. For a moment you wonder how he’s managed to capture your attention so quickly outside of the interest you held for your novel.
You don’t hesitate to return. You come with a typewriter and notebooks in tow. Yoongi offers a few different places for you to set up but you choose the spot in the room with his piano.
At first he gives you distance, quiet to write, which you appreciate but you enjoy it even more when he comes in with a tray of tea. You don’t miss that it seems something the butler would do instead. He sits with you and asks about your writing but the conversation moves quickly to other things.
You return the next day, and the next. Yoongi gives you less space but you li
