#armyofwriters

You pretty much had one goal in mind; get the information you came for and get out of there; as a journalist, you didn’t want anyone to know your approach and get the information before you. You didn’t want to come off as a scouter for information, because Mr. Kim, who was celebrating the 10th anniversary of his company tonight, would obviously not tell you anything.  If you acted innocent, like you were just at the grand ballroom of his mansion for a good time, he wouldn’t think twice about opening his mouth and spilling what you so desperately needed.  

Your editor was keen on you getting this information but wasn’t as excited about the methods you planned on using to get it. You had been working as partners for years, and he knew your ways, but although he knew that ethically, it wasn’t professional, it got the job done. He often just turns a blind eye at how you get the information from the source. After all, that’s why your organization is the most renowned in news; you break the stories that need to be told. With the flow of your words, you made empires and monopolies fall, just because you understood how men in power worked.  

The dress code was simple: formal, but professional. You put on a simple, pretty black dress that was short but long enough to leave some to the imagination, high black pumps and some pretty red lingerie.  To top off the sultry look you were going for, you painted on a deep, blood-red liquid lip, as you peered in your bathroom mirror, blotting your lips with a tissue, you decide to make things a little risky for the night.  Maybe you should forego the bra today.

You had a professional invite to the event, due to your position at the notable newspaper. You entered the elegant ballroom, lavishly decorated, and began to blend into the crowd. Men in charge of multi-billion dollar companies are easy to seduce, and you knew that you could easily get the information you needed with the bat of your eyes.

You spotted the CEO, Mr. Kim, talking a young man, who was looking rather bored you might add, that you’ve never seen before. He was stunning, with perfect facial features and a great build. Perhaps rather than getting what you need from a middle-aged man, you could get to know the handsome man better. Killing two birds with one stone.

Perhaps you were staring, because he suddenly turned away from the conversation with the CEO and locked eyes with you. You immediately looked away, cursing to yourself as you didn’t want to seem too obvious in your intentions.

You made your way to an empty standing table and looked back to see the same man walking towards you, two glasses of champagne in hand.

“No bra? Not very professional if you ask me.”

You looked down, shocked that he could tell so easily, but once you saw your nipples were hard and visible under the dark dress, you shook your head, laughing at yourself. “Formal dresses these days make it difficult to wear a bra with them,” was all you responded.  

“Fair enough. I’m not complaining.” He held one glass of champagne out for you as he began to sip on the other, but you took the one that was against his mouth for yourself. He raised an eyebrow at you, “The other one wasn’t drugged, I promise. I’m Taehyung by the way.”

“A woman can never be too safe,” you shrugged. “I’m Y/N; nice to meet you. So, I saw you talking to Mr. Kim, the man of the night.”

“Ugh, don’t praise him like that. My father is not half the man the media builds him up to me.”

His father is Mr. Kim? You knew he had a son your age but you didn’t expect him to be this handsome. However, thinking about it, they do have similar features.  There are many striking similarities.

You tried to hide your excitement; this is exactly what you wanted. “Not a very proud son, huh?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” he shook his head. “I should probably stay quiet about it though, or else I’ll get banned from coming to events like these. I can’t miss out on the drinks.” He downed half the glass. “No, but really, I’m only here for him to look like a wholesome family man, nothing else.”

You were slightly shocked how easily he was spilling his opinion on his father. Was he already drunk? You really didn’t expect things to go this easily.

You were pulled from your thoughts when he cleared his throat. “Don’t act so innocent. I know who you are and what you do.” You widened your eyes, slightly taken aback. You opened your mouth to defend yourself when he spoke again. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N. You flirt and seduce men to get them to spill information about their companies and end up destroying their career, but I seem to be the only person who knows that. Or, people don’t want to admit they so easily fell for your feminine wiles and told you everything you needed to know.” You felt your face get red and look away. You feel his hand on your jaw, making you look directly at him.

“Don’t worry. I’m not judging. In fact, I would love it if you would get your latest story about my father by working with me,” he raised his eyebrows and smirked at you, accentuating the word, giving it a double meaning.  

You grinned up at him. “Oh really? You know, once I publish the story, his career will be ruined. I’m able to do that easily. My name is very reputable. And I’m sure I can do more than just work with you,” you teased back.

“I know. I don’t approve of his methods. The way he profits off of others is despicable. He’s rude and inconsiderate towards anyone who he sees as below him; I’ve tried to get him to step down countless times.” His hand trailed up your arm, “And this way, I get to spend a night with a gorgeous woman and expose how he cheats all of his clients and workers without getting my hands dirty. As long as you don’t mention my name in the article, I’d say we have a pretty good deal; I saw the way you were staring at me. I’m sure you want me to have my way with you, don’t you?”

“You read my mind. But, I think we can save the business side of things for tomorrow, what do you say?”

His hand, firmly planted on the small of your back, led you up the stairs and through a long hallway. No words were spoken as he led you to the room at the end of the hall; you don’t wait more than a second before you turned on the lights and put your hands on his collar and are pulling him towards you. His large hands grope your ass and he backs you into the room until your legs hit the bed and you fall back. You grin up at his figure standing above you as his hands roam your body; slowly, his lips are lowered to yours as he wraps his arms around your waist. Taehyung has one hand grasping your waist while the other slowly moves up to your chest, to your throat.

He only touches the skin lightly, let you moan and reach for his wrist; covering his fingers with yours, you squeeze his hand over your throat as you gasp, “Choke me.”

He curses as he does as you ask, closing his fingers around your throat while he pushes up the skirt of your dress. “Tsk, tsk. You’ve soaked yourself, huh? You’re a little whore aren’t you?” He doesn’t expect an answer as he takes two fingers from his free hand and rubs the wet spot on your soiled panties. You whimper as he plunges his fingers basically inside of you while ruining your fine lace lingerie. You feel your hips rut up against his fingers, but he stands in between your legs and presses his thighs into yours, keeping you pinned to the bed.  

You feel the desperate need to have his fingers inside of you and without words, you are begging him to take off your panties and finger fuck you mercilessly. Your eyes meet with his and you just know he can see the desperation in your eyes; with you rutting your hips up, trying to get any sort of friction, he smirks down at you.

“Such a needy little slut. But don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want,” he leaned down to press his lips onto yours, sliding his tongue between his lips as his hand pulled the panties down your legs. You felt one finger probe at your core, swirling around to gather your wetness; he applied just enough pressure to get you going without any relief.

You whimpered into his mouth as he dipped the tip of his finger inside you. You tried to rut up into his hand to get more of his finger but he held you down. He broke the kiss, “Be patient baby… I don’t want to rush this. I want to have you under me for as long as possible.” You frowned up at him but you were obedient in his wishes, doing just what he wanted to please him. “That’s my good girl,” he smirked as his eyes bore into yours.

He pushed his finger into you completely and massaged your walls, making you groan in pleasure. “Such a good fucking girl,” he murmured as he slipped another finger in.

“Oh, fuck!” You gasped out and sat up straight on the bed from the sudden rush of pleasure as his fingers pounded into you. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter with each flick of his wrist, your pussy getting warmer and more swollen by the second.

“You like that? You like when my fingers fill up your cunt?” All you could do was nod as you pulled his face to yours and kissed him. He grinned down at you as he pulled away, making you whine. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I love it, I love it when you fuck my pussy with your fingers. Please, don’t stop.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he smirked at you as he slowed down his pace, looking for your g spot. When your hips twitch up, he knows he found it. He focused on that one spot and kept thrusting into it.

You felt the heat build up in your stomach and you knew you were getting close. You felt the hand that was placed on your hip move down to your clit, which he began to rub in slow circles, making you cum immediately. Your legs began to shake as you arched your back, cumming on his fingers.  

“Mmm, Taehyung, fuck. You make me feel so good.” You pulled away from his fingers and sat up on the bed, scooting back to have your back against the headboard.  “I want my pussy to be overflowing with your cum.” You spread your legs wide for him, giving him the perfect view of your pussy.

“So needy,” Taehyung chuckled, undoing his dress pants and stripping naked in front of you. His hard cock was gigantic, up against his abs as you could visibly see two huge veins go along the length. You licked your licks and took the same opportunity to pull your dress over your head and toss it into the pile of clothes.

He crawled onto the bed and spit onto your sopping cunt, making your pussy even more wet.  He began to position himself in front of your entrance before slowly beginning to push into you.  You gasp as you feel his dick sink into you. The head of his cock stretched you deliciously, then the rest of his length sank into you slowly.  It was when he was halfway in that you began to feel the marvelous burn as his long and thick cock stretched your walls.

He feels you tense up as he gets deeper; you weren’t expecting him to be that big.  “Hmm, you’re doing so well baby girl, taking my cock perfectly. You’re so wet, I’m sliding right in. That’s it.”

Once he bottomed out your felt your muscles relax, as his hips pressed into yours, his cock buried deep into your womb. You don’t think you’ve felt anything so deep before. Taehyung let out a groan as your walls squeezed around him.  

Taehyung pulled back almost completely until just the head of his dick was still inside you. He slammed into you, his hips snapping roughly until he was balls deep. You whimpered at the sharpness of his thrust, but that didn’t stop him. He continued pounding into you, pulling out most of the way before ramming back in. You were glad that you were flat on your back because there was no way your arms or legs could support his harsh actions.  

“Mm, fuck, I’m so deep. You feel so good. My little cockslut,” his sentences were short and gruff as he didn’t let up on his pace. “Such a good whore,” he growls as his tightened his grip on your waist.

“Your sopping cunt is still so tight, fuck.” He places his hand on your stomach where he sees this cock bulging, “You can barely handle me. If I go any harder I might tear you in half.”

“I can take whatever you give me,” you mutter, but barely able to open your eyes due to the amount of pleasure you are receiving.

“I doubt that baby. You can barely breathe correctly,” Taehyung pants, ramming into you, “I’ll fuck you so, so good baby.  You’re gonna cum and soak my dick like a needy bitch.”

“Yes, please use me, oh my god,” your eyes are squeezed shut, your voice rising in volume as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Hm, you like being used? Like a bitch in heat?”

“Yes, please fuck me, I’m so close. Please, don’t stop,” you beg, trying to focus on the way his cock feels inside of you, brushing against your g spot.  

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice, as his hand moved down to your clit, rubbing in so perfectly that you were sobbing. “That’s right, cum all over my cock. Let everyone downstairs know who is fucking you, who’s cockslut you are,” he was commanding as his hips rammed into yours deliberately rough to match his words.

You felt the pleasure in your stomach boil over, as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever felt washed over your whole body. You’re in complete bliss until you feel Taehyung going even harder, continuing to thrust into you and rub your clit.

You whine, feeling tears form, “I’m too sensitive. I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” His lips lowered to your ear, “You feel so good cumming on my cock, I want you to milk my dick until you’re sobbing like the cockslut you are. Can you cum again baby girl? For me?”

The only thing you can do is nod, letting him pound into you and rub your swollen clit until you let the overstimulation turn into another orgasm, cumming for him the third time of the night. You’re exhausted, just laying there and letting him use your body as a fuck toy to get off as he continues to slam into you.

“God, you’re such a good fucking girl, letting me use you how I want. You must love this cock,” he finally cums inside of your pussy, filling you to the brim. “What do you say we go back downstairs and let this cum drip out of you? Let everyone know who claimed you?”

A too familiar morning.

He is out before 6 AM and it’s too cold for his denim jacket to keep him warm. He frowns in the cold air, letting out a shaky breath, as his bag keeps sliding off of his shoulder. The sky is really dark today, completely covered by the huge black clouds, which will surely bring rain later during the day.

It’s so quiet, that the only thing he hears is the slight rustling of the leaves, being carried away by the autumn wind. As he nears the gymnasium, he sees a flock of birds flying over the old building. A couple of steps more and he’ll finally feel warm – after he pushes the hard entrance doors. As soon as they close behind him, the loud sounds of the birds disappear – and he doesn’t even know that this is the last time he’ll hear them.

He inhales the all too familiar smell – the smell of an early morning, the smell of rubber mats they train on, the smell of freshly greased training equipment.

 And this is what he lives for.

 His shoes are too tight and worn out, but his mother won’t afford a new pair any time soon.

He is here before the other guys, and his workout doesn’t stop until his entire body is covered in sweat. When he finishes, he still has 20 minutes before the training starts. The lights are still off and the color of the trees is accentuated by the gloomy weather, illuminating the entire hall with a greenish blue light.

 A muffled melody breaks the silence and he searches through his bag to find his phone. The corner of his lips turns upwards before he even opens the message. And there, on the broken display, is a “I wasn’t able to fall asleep when you left...” and a video.

 His footsteps are echoing through the hall as he walks towards the bathroom stalls, holding the phone in his hand and waiting for the video to download. He throws his bag onto the pale blue tiles and enters one of the stalls. The video finally downloads and he presses play.

Jungkook instantly recognizes his silver necklace, hitting him in the chest, as he thrusts at a fast pace – his forearms bulging in the video, as he focuses on holding himself up. Shy whimpers can be heard behind the camera, together with the squeaking bed and ragged breathing. “You like that? Like when I fuck you like that, huh?” He was barely able to finish the sentence, breathing hard in between each word – his voice always stern and rough when he fucks.

He replays the video one more time, precome oozing out of his tip, when he receives another message. He downloads the second video, and plays it after a couple of seconds.

He squeezes his cock over the thick material of his tracksuit, biting into his lip at the feeling and slightly groaning in frustration – he still has about 15 minutes before the training starts – but the smash of the heavy entrance doors closing brings him back to reality and he turns off his phone.

It’s the coach – he always comes here before the other guys, just to set up everything for the training. Jungkook exits the bathroom and walks towards the main hall.

“Did you have a good warm-up,” the coach asks Jungkook, throwing the heavy bags he was carrying onto the rubber mats.

Jungkook looks at him, still breathing hard from his workout and he replies, “not bad.”

That’s the only thing he says – he doesn’t even shrug. There’s no unnecessary body movement when he speaks. His answers are very concise – straight to the point. He doesn’t smile just to make the other person feel more comfortable. He doesn’t ask meaningless questions just for the sake of being polite, like “How have you been? How was your day? I heard you transferred to a new company, how do you like it there?” He doesn’t ask if he’s not genuinely interested – he doesn’t pretend. And he doesn’t understand why other people do that.

His short answer makes the coach feel a little bit uncomfortable, and so he asks another question under pressure, just to break the nerve-racking silence, “How’s everything at home?”

This time, Jungkook actually shrugs, because the situation at home has never been worse, and so he needs a little bit of time to come up with a lie, “fine,” he frowns a bit, his lips curving downwards and he shrugs again, “the usual.”

The coach looks at him, with some suspicion, but decides against prying any further, and so he starts talking about boxing, “so, we’re starting 1 on 1 training tomorrow, and I want you to be here at 5 am. We’re aiming for the finals now, because you’re the only one who can actually do it… But there is absolutely no room for error now.” He looks at Jungkook with a somewhat stern look on his face, hoping that his words affected Jungkook in some way.

Jungkook just nods.

“Jungkook, I hope you realize how serious this is. Not only for the club and your boxing ambitions, but…” he hesitates a bit, but decides to continue “you can finally get that money for your brother.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, nodding a few more times, with a reassuring look in his eyes.  

 Minutes pass by and the other guys start arriving one by one, and when their cheap plastic clock on the right wall shows 7 O’clock, the actual training starts. Sounds of bare feet tapping across the room can be heard throughout the hall, strong masculine bodies hitting the mats – competitive young men and excess testosterone.

Time goes by fast when he’s here and he feels dread when the training is over, because he has to go back home. After he exits the gymnasium, and the hard doors close behind him, another painful day starts.

He walks back home – the wind has started blowing harder than when he first got out of the house this morning – he rubs his hands over his arms, in hopes of heating them up a bit, but the worn out denim just hurts the blisters on the pads of his fingers. Luckily, he has less than ten minutes until he gets home.

He walks through the inner courtyard of the building complex he lives in, which looks more like a park – just a lot of greenery and benches with interlocked buildings creating a sort of concrete maze around it.

The entire neighborhood is old and most of the buildings are in bad condition. They’ve turned grey from all the smog, and almost all the glass on the front doors is broken and covered in graffiti. The buildings were built specifically for the working class, back in the 80s – some of them are square shaped, some L-shaped and there are also five solitaires in the middle, which everyone calls the white angels. Jungkook lives in one of them.

 When he gets home, Taehyung is there, waiting for him in his room – his dad must have let him in. “Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been...” Taehyung motions with his hand, as he struggles to finish the sentence, and he looks almost angry because his mind isn’t working. “I’ve been…” his eyes are half-closed, and he probably doesn’t realize how slow his movements are and how much he is slurring his words.

Jugnkook can already tell what’s going on, so he doesn’t say a word, he just keeps looking at Taehyung, with a stern look on his face – because he’s fed up with this, he’s fed up with Taehyung’s shit. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to deal with this, he can’t get through to him, Taehyung dismisses everything he says and the frustration in Jungkook just keeps building up, because he feels so fucking helpless.

And so he almost yells at Taehyung, after too much time has passed, “you’ve been what?!”

“Calling you the entire morning!” Taehyung finally says, managing to raise up his voice a little – as if he has the right to be pissed – but he’s physically unable to yell.

“I had training,” Jungkook looks at him, anger starting to build up in him even more now, “I’ve had training every morning for the past three years.” His tone is painful for Taehyung. “Are you on heroin again, Taehyung?”

Taehyung frowns, his nose scrunching – his expression full of rage “Fuck you,” he spits out, “I told you I tried that shit once man, ok?!”

There’s an awkward silence, but Jungkook doesn’t give into it, he just keeps staring at Taehyung. So naturally, Taehyung gives in, breaking under the pressure – especially since he’s desperately trying to defend himself.

“I forgot man... I’m just drunk… I didn’t really go home since last night.” He tries to sit on Jungkook’s bed, moving across the room painfully slowly, “anyways, I wanna sell my leather jacket, so, like, I wonder if..” he makes another unnecessary pause, breathing heavily, as if it’s physically hard for him to speak, “if like,” he raises his voice all of a sudden, “any of your guys from the gym are interested.. Soo, that you can... you know…” He looks at Jungkook, thinking that Jungkook understood everything, not realizing how confusing his sentences are.  “So, can you ask them? If they are?”  

Jungkook is sitting on the couch, right across from Taehyung.

“You look like a fucking junkie,” Jungkook almost hisses, with disgust written all over his face, “you can’t even speak.” He waits for a reaction, but it doesn’t come.

“Are you that fucking dumb? Did you really decide to be a heroin addict, who shits and pukes all over himself, because he’s so out of it? Is that it?” He waits again. “Why did you stop boxing? What, you don’t like it anymore? All of a sudden? Taehyung?!”

Taehyung looks so insulted, but at the same time, he can’t do anything about it, because just trying to focus on Jungkook takes so much energy and concentration. He’s trying so hard to keep his body still and not fall down, but he doesn’t realize that his upper body is swaying from left to right, even though he’s sitting down. His breathing is so heavy and it is so painfully loud in the uncomfortable silence Jungkook has left them in.

“You wanna sell your favorite jacket?” Jungkook continues, “that’s your only jacket.” He waits for a response again. “Why do you need the money so bad?”

“Fuck you man.” Taehyung’s reply is filled with so much hate, that Jungkook was actually able to hear the sound of all the spit that has gathered in Taehyung’s mouth, as he was pronouncing that “F”.  Taehyung starts getting up, pulling up his pants, and slowly walking towards the door.

“Every time I come to you for a favor, you act like a fucking woman, nagging and talking shit all the time. When have you turned into this fucking savior, huh? Does it get you off? Huh?” He grabs the door handle, but looks at Jungkook, before he opens the door, “does this make you feel better, because you can’t help your brother?”

Jungkook just stares at him and Taehyung leaves.

The first few seconds, Jungkook actually feels the need to run after Taehyung and smash his skull. But then he suddenly comes to his senses, and he wonders – when has their friendship turned into this shit? Talking like they despise each other, frustration building up on both sides. He hates the way Taehyung talks to him, the way he’s treating him – who the fuck does he think he is?

Then, after he calms down a little, he actually starts thinking about this the right way. Jungkook is disgusted with himself for feeling impatient and inconvenienced – for feeling irritated by Taehyung – when instead, he should be helping Taehyung.

But he doesn’t know how.

 He has to take cold showers, because their electricity was turned off, for not paying the bills. His mom is out again, his dad is prostrated across the table – his brother long forgotten, as he continues to wither in his hospital bed.

******

 Jungkook skips over a puddle, it was raining hard tonight and it’s chilly outside. There’s no one on the street, he only hears his footsteps tapping across the wet concrete, as he heads towards the club. The air is fresh and the street lights are reflecting in the puddles – a scenario that he knows all too well. He’s already drunk, because alcohol is less expensive in the 7/11 than at the strip club, so he always drinks before he goes there.

He pays for sex – not because he has to, far from it, but because it excites him – it heightens the sexual experience

It’s also a subconscious thing – he feels “loved” here, he is every girl’s object of affection – he is everyone’s favorite. They care for him, nurture him, they heal his scars – both inside and out. He loves the delicate touches, how careful and tender girls are with him – after an entire day of being hit, he guesses that’s kind of normal.

But tonight’s a special night, because tonight he actually came here for someone.

 The bass is so loud that it almost hurts your ears, but you’ll get used to it soon. The music in the club is purposefully chosen in order to create a dark and exhilarating mood, which awakens all the beasts of the soul.

You’ve just exited the changing rooms, entering the main floor of the club, and after a minute of looking around the crowd, you recognize the guy from yesterday. At least you think it’s him, because you can only see his back.

But after a couple of seconds he turns around and now you’re sure it’s him, because of the nasty scar starting all the way from his mouth and spreading across his left cheek – in a way, distorting even the corner of his lips a little bit. You’ve heard of this before, supposedly, it’s caused by cutting the person from the corners of his lips, all the way to the ears, leaving a scar in the shape of a smile. But usually, it doesn’t look as severe as his, you’ve never seen a scar like that, and he only has it on one side of his face.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize he’s spotted you too, and now he’s walking towards you. You can’t help but smile a little when you see him, because you’re happy that he’s here for you.

He’s also smiling as he comes up to you, towering above you, because he’s so tall. You want to kiss him, but there’s no touching on the main floor, so you beckon him towards the back rooms – that’s what he’s here for, after all.

But his hand finds its way to your hair, his thumb caressing your cheek, as he smiles lovingly. But now dread is written across your face, because you know that your boss is there somewhere and that he’s gonna get so pissed off because Jungkook’s touching you in front of everyone. And sure enough, you can see him right behind Jungkook, walking towards you.

You try to prepare yourself, as you watch him come over, but as soon as he sees Jungkook, his eyes widen and he looks completely surprised – almost in awe. Jungkook looks at him once, but pays no further attention to him, and pulls you a bit closer.

“Jungkook, what a surprise! Would you, maybe, be interested in a private room?” You’ve never heard your boss be that polite to anyone, so you wonder – what is it about Jungkook that’s causing this special treatment?

Jungkook replies, but doesn’t even spare him a glance and just continues examining your face “yeah, we were just heading there.”

You enter the back rooms in silence – you’re already used to it. You both act like you know each other – as if you’re lovers, who have been separated against their will, and now you have reunited after a long time – you don’t say a word, but every move is filled with such intense emotions. You smile at each other, your kisses are desperate and passionate, but also intimate – he kisses your chest, your hands, your shoulders – and that’s unusual in a place like this.  

He pulls out his cellphone from his pocket and puts it on the small table.

He sits down onto the couch and god... his physical appearance is so divine – god-like. His shoulders are broad, but then his torso narrows down towards the waist, giving his silhouette a beautiful shape. The muscles on his arms are very prominent and are nicely accentuated by the black shirt he’s wearing. And then, your favorite part – his thighs are huge, the muscles large and sturdy, even more so because he’s sitting down. His legs are spread apart, inviting you to just sit in his lap.

You straddle him and decide to break the silence, “you came back,” you say.

His fingers are warming up on your thighs, the watch on his wrist ice-cold as it moves up your skirt. You put your hands around his neck and play with the ends of his tar-black hair there. He just nods as he starts breathing heavily.

“How was your day?” He says, cupping your cheek and you’re surprised at how gentle he is.

“Ok.. The usual.”

He pulls you in for a kiss and you start by kissing his bottom lip first – tasting the remaining alcohol – then you playfully lick his top lip a little bit, before he deepens the kiss. He starts squeezing you harder, encouraging you to grind your hips. He starts pushing his hips into you and can feel the outline of his hard cock.

His hand is in your hair again, guiding you in all the ways he wants, as he lowers down onto your neck, licking long stripes with the tip of his tongue. And you can’t believe that just kissing with him feels this good.  

He clashes your lips together, whimpering in frustration, as his thrusts become more desperate.

You press the palms of your hands down to his sturdy chest, touching him everywhere. Seeing the creases on his shirt blows your mind a little bit, because you didn’t realize you were pulling on it so hard. He takes his shirt off – which leaves him only with his silver necklace on – and you’re finally able to feel his beautiful skin.

You start licking into each other’s mouths again, but the sound of his phone ringing snaps you out of it. He stands up with you still in his lap – holding you by your thighs – he puts you down and walks over to the small table where his phone is.

And you realize that this is the first time you’ve seen his back, naked, because you had no idea that he has a tattoo. He has a traditional Japanese tiger, tattooed all over his back. “The tiger,” you think to yourself, “the sign that is feared – the one who represents strength and courage.”

You completely miss the conversation he was having on his phone, and before you know it, he’s back on the couch. He beckons you over and you sit next to him, with his arm wrapped around you.

It’s so weird, because you feel as if this is your living room and he is your husband – he doesn’t rush anything, he doesn’t want to fuck you straightaway – he’s fine with talking and kissing. But tonight you don’t want to talk, so you straddle him again.

He brings his hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you by the hair and tilting your head backwards. His other hand is on your back and so he’s basically pushing you down on his thighs – while you’re still straddling him – as he towers above you. He just looks at you for a couple of seconds and he kisses you hard, pushing his tongue deep into your mouth, letting out a loud exhale through his nose.

When he pulls you up again, you start grinding onto his hard cock, riling him up, his breathing becoming more ragged.

He pushes you off his lap and onto the floor – a loud thump breaking the silence – when your knees hit the wooden floor. His legs are spread apart, naked chest heaving, and you grabs his calves instantly, pulling yourself upwards, in between his legs.

His massive silver watch looks like a kind of restraint on him and you’re not sure why you like it so much – the fact that he’s naked and he’s only got these two pieces of jewelry on him.

He places his hand on the nape of your neck again, pulling you towards him, as he towers above you.  He pulls you towards his face – you flash him a smile and you open your mouth. He spits into your mouth, letting it dribble out slowly and pulls you in for a kiss.

You’re surprised when he pulls you into his lap again – you thought you were gonna suck him off first – but you learned yesterday that he can be a little bit impatient. He pulls out a condom from his pocket, unzips his jeans and takes out his cock without pulling his jeans down – not even a little bit – and you think to yourself that that’s pretty masochistic, because the metal zipper is pressed into his cock.

You hover above it and you slowly push it in. Your lips part as you do so, moaning when you completely sit down on his thighs, with his cock fully inside you.

You instinctively tighten around him and he groans, already feeling himself leaking into the condom. He starts slamming into you, your ass slapping against his thighs, as you hold onto his wide shoulders. You move your hands to the side of his face, caressing his cheeks, his jaw – just touching his face all over. Then down to his shoulders, his ribs, his abs – you can’t believe he’s real.

He slows down and just darts out his tongue, waiting for you to suck on it. You smile again, wrapping your lips around his tongue and pulling it into your mouth. You start kissing again, clenching every time he slams into you. He closes his eyes – can feel them rolling back into his head – as he nears his orgasm.

“Fuck me,” you barely manage to say, but he stops and pushes you down onto the leather couch, turning you around and pushing your face into it.

“Is this what you want?” That’s the only time he speaks, voice so deep from the alcohol and lack of sleep.

 He rubs the head of his cock over your clit, almost making you cum then and there. He pushes his head inside first and he’s balls-deep the next moment. He brings his hands down to your ass, parting your cheeks, as he looks down at his cock moving in and out. Jungkook places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you down, as he slams into you harder and harder.

You come in silence, your body completely paralyzed from how good it feels. And soon after, he comes, too.

After that, it’s like you’re in your room again. He lights up a cigarette, sitting on the couch with just his jeans on.

“I have this dream,” he starts speaking, “from time to time.” You’re right beside him, listening carefully. “Always the same dream,” he puts out his cigarette and pulls you into his lap. “I’m in a room with this woman and she’s feeding me butterfly wings.” He makes a pause. “I know it’s weird, but they taste nice – like the sweetest, most delicious candy you’ve ever tried.” You’re playing with his hair, as he tells you about his dream, and you listen to him carefully – you don’t know if you’re more mesmerized by him or by his dream.  

“But the wings are so thin and so delicate, that, as soon as she touches them, with the pad of her finger, they stick onto it. And I stick my tongue out,” you look him in the eyes, as he grabs your middle finger and brings it to his mouth, “and she puts them on my tongue.” And he sticks out his tongue, licking the pad of your finger. Shivers run down your spine and you think that you’re finally in love.

******

The crowd is so loud he feels like the entire arena is shaking from their chants. He’s never been in a match this big. They have about ten minutes before they go out, he’s jumping around a bit, warming up, before his coach comes up to him with boxing wraps that he has to put on his hands.

He’s not nervous, he was never the type to feel anxious before something so important and he doesn’t even know how lucky he is because of it. He was born like that and he never had to think about how other people struggle because of psychological pressure.

The coach is saying some words of encouragement as he’s wrapping his hands, even though there’s absolutely no need for that and he knows it. Everyone from his gym is there to support him and in a way he feels happy, because they’re starting to look like a proper team, ready to take on the world.

This is as big as it’ll ever get in their small hometown, but he’s already dreaming of the huge spotlights in the Las Vegas arena.

The clock is ticking and he can’t wait to exit the small white room they’re currently in. The coach went back to the locker room to put away the remaining fabric, but he’s taking too long and they’re supposed to exit in a few minutes. Jungkook hears some faint chatter – a female voice – she seems to be speaking with his coach and then the conversation starts getting louder and louder.

Everyone’s looking towards the locker rooms and finally Jungkook’s mother appears, babbling something seemingly inaudible, or maybe his brain is just unable to process it because he’s so surprised that she’s there. His coach is physically trying to stop her from entering the main room – she looks drunk, completely wasted, maybe that’s why – but then the coach continues speaking to her, raising his voice: “Please don’t tell him now! Now is not the time!”

But she doesn’t listen to him, violently trying to push him away. She searches for Jungkook in this little room filled with unfamiliar people, and when her eyes finally meet with his, she looks so angry at him, her look full of hate, “your brother has died!!!” The sound that leaves her mouth could only be described as a screech, it’s a sound he’s never heard coming from his mother.

And with that, he’s being pushed outside as his name is being announced to the hundreds of people. He’s in complete shock and he’s sure it shows, his black eyes are as wide as when he was a little baby, when his huge bambi eyes were so prominent on his small face. The reaction that he’s supposed to have is not coming out – he knows that he’s supposed to cry, that he’s supposed to scream, but he can’t, and he doesn’t understand why.

The loud cheering of the crowd is driving him into complete aggression, because his brain starts perceiving it as a threat. His body is overwhelmed with emotion and he feels as if he’s going into shock, but instead of fainting, he’s becoming aggressive because he feels attacked.

He doesn’t even remember how he got into the ring, the judge has already announced their names and the match has started. He remembers to hold his fists in front of his face, even though he’s not consciously thinking about it.

Receiving a couple of blows to his head kind of clears his mind and makes him focus on his opponent. Jungkook tries to hit him once, but misses badly. At the end of the first round, he manages to land a few punches.

He keeps reminding himself that he has to stay focused, because this is the fight of his life, this is what he’s been working for every morning for ten years – and then he suddenly remembers that his brother is dead and that this match doesn’t mean anything anymore. He’s been preparing three years for this competition specifically, just so that he can win the money for his brother’s treatment. But now what? Why is he in the ring now?

Somehow, the entire second round passes with him thinking about this, and what’s more surprising is that he lands some very successful punches – he’s pretty sure he’s gonna win this round.

He manages to calm down his mind and his performance improves greatly – he actually has a chance of winning this thing.

His opponent starts hitting him viciously, and Jungkook starts getting angry again – he has just realized that he let his brother die – if he doesn’t start acting differently, the same thing might happen to Taehyung too. And this guy keeps hitting him in the face – who the fuck does he think he is?!

Jungkook puts all his strength into the next two punches, sending the guy down onto the floor, but he just can’t stop himself now and so he kicks his opponent in the head as he’s lying on the floor.

The next thing he hears is the painful sound of the whistle and it finally brings him back to reality – he’s disqualified. Probably from participating in any championships or tournaments for a couple of years.

The burning lights of Las Vegas have turned off.

**************************

Burrrrrooom!

You hear the familiar sound of a motorcycle pulling up to your daycare. Then the sudden quiet of it shutting off and the click of the stand being put down so the vehicle doesn't fall over.

"Ji Ran! Your father is here!"  You yell out to the little three year old. Grabbing her coat for her, you squat down and wait for her to make her way to you through the other children. Her little round sweet face comes into view, black pigtails bouncing.

You hold out her coat and help her into it. "Do you have your bag?" You ask while buttoning her up. She shakes her head and runs to get it, her sparkly pink tutu swishing around her. Just as she runs away, her father walks in.

Jeon Jungkook.

Today he has on a black leather jacket with a plain white tee under it. His black ripped jeans and tan timberland boots move gracefully towards you. Shaggy black hair gets swept from those piercing dark eyes in one smooth motion of his tatted hand which makes his equally tatted arm muscles shift and move with the motion underneath that leather jacket. You can hear the clinking of his multiple piercings as his hand brushes against his ear.

If you saw him on the street while you were by yourself, you honestly would be nervous. He has that hard yet charming look to him. Much like nightshade, gorgeous and pretty but deadly once you get too close.

He flashes you a quick smile of white teeth. "Hello Y/N. I hope Ji Ran was good today." He says while those dark eyes search for his daughter. You bow slightly.

"Hello Jungkook-ssi. Yes, she was an angel today as she always is." You tell him the same thing every day. Which isn't a lie. Ji Ran is an actual angel for you. She reminds you of the type of daughter you'd want if you ever have kids. But that isn't in the cards for you right now.

You see Ji Ran running back to you before Jungkook does. "Ah here she comes."

"Ji Ran-ah!" Jungkook yells out while dropping to his knees, his face breaking into an impossibly large smile. He spreads his arms out wide as Ji Ran flings herself into his embrace. "Daddy!" She yells back, burying her face into his chest.

"I missed you today." His voice rumbles softly but still loud enough for you to hear. He hugs her tight, enveloping her small body in his arms. He is a man completely opposite of his appearance when he's with his daughter. The badass tatted man who walked in off of a motorcycle instantly dissolves into a squishy cutie once he sees his daughter.

You look away from this intimate moment and try to busy yourself with helping the other kids.

Every day it is the same thing but every time it pulls at your heart strings with their love for each other. It is so pure and unconditional. Another thing you hoped to have one day.

Jungkook stands up with Ji Ran, her little arms clasped around his neck. He looks to his daughter. "Did you tell Ms.Y/N goodbye and give her a hug?" She shakes her head. He sets her down and she runs to you, hugging you around your neck. "Bye-bye Ms.Y/N." Ji Ran says in her little voice. You give her a light squeeze. "Goodbye Ji Ran. I will see you tomorrow!" You tell her. She lets go of you and goes back to her father. He scoops her up and throws you another white smile. "See you tomorrow Y/N." You nod and bow slightly again. Jungkook and Ji Ran then give you a small wave as they walk out to his motorcycle.

You remember the first time Jungkook came to your daycare. Ji Ran was so young, around one year old actually. He came on that same motorcycle and you were so confused as to why this young handsome man was at your daycare. "Maybe he's picking up a sibling. But in a motorcycle? That cannot be safe." You thought to yourself. You just became even more confused when you saw him pull out a small child from the side car that was hidden from your view. He slung a diaper bag over his shoulder and put the child on his hip while he struggled to take off her little helmet. You stood there watching for a little bit until you decided to go help him.

"Here let me help you." You told the young man while you quickly unclipped the helmet from the child who was clearly getting irritated. The young man looked at you and blushed a little in embarrassment. "Thank you." He tried to bow some which was difficult with a child and diaper bag. You nodded and bow back. "You're welcome."

He sees you looking at the motorcycle. "Oh yeah... I don't have enough money to buy a car yet...and the bus can be too slow... so I have this from when I restored it..." He looks down at the ground. You're not sure how to respond to that so you just nod. "Ah I see.."

Attempting to break the awkwardness, the young man gestures to your daycare with his head. "Are you Y/N-ssi?" He asks you.

"Yes, I am. Are you dropping your sister off because I'll need you to sign some paper work if she's going to coming here regularly." You inform him.

The young man blushes again, this time a deeper red. "She's..um... she's my daughter actually." He looks very uncomfortable. You scold yourself for being insensitive and assuming.

"A-ah no no it's my fault! I'm sorry for just assuming. Please forgive me." You also give him another bow. He shakes his head. "It's alright. I get that all the time. I know I look a lot younger than my age which is already young." He tells you. Now you're even more curious.

"If you don't mind me, how old are you?" You ask him. You already found him intriguing but now even more so. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "I'm 22."

"Oh that is young, he's around my age." You think to yourself.

"You're around my age." You're not sure why you told him that but it seemed to make him feel better. Maybe he was afraid of you judging him if you were a lot older. He gives you a small smile, looking a little more at ease. "You said I needed to fill out paperwork?"

"Y/N-ah...Y/N-ah... Can you hear me?" A familiar voice pulls you out of your flashback. Jungkook has his face close in front of yours. You back away in surprise. "Jungkook-ssi! I thought you left!"

He laughs a little, "I thought so too but I forgot to tell you something that I noticed."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yes?"

He leans back some on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. "We've known each other for how long now? 2 or so years?" You nod, not sure where this is going. "Yeah around that."

He continues, "That's probably enough time to be more than acquaintances right?" You just continue to nod. "So... are we friends then? You can stop calling me 'Jungkook-ssi', it sounds weird to me, especially with us being close in age." He points out, rubbing the back of his neck. You notice the nervous habit. 

Was he nervous to ask to be friends?

You laugh at his cute reaction. You and him were getting closer you realize. Sometimes when he'd have a question about child care, he'd ask you since he was pretty far away from his parents. "I'd consider us friends. I just was never sure since I'm the daycare provider and I was raised to when in doubt be polite."  You tell Jungkook with a small smile. He returns your smile with one of his.

"Ah okay that's good." He rubs his neck a little more but seems less nervous. "That's all I needed to say. I-I'll see you tomorrow Y/N-ah." Jungkook gives you another bright smile and walks back out.

"Goodbye Jungkook...-ah." You wave goodbye and smile back.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

*RING* *RING* *RING*

"Ughhhhh." Your cellphone rings in the dead of night, pulling you from your sleep.

"Who in the world is calling at this time?"  You grasp blindly for your phone, eyes still bleary from sleep. You click the green button without even looking at the name.

"Y/N-ah! Finally you answered! I-it's Ji Ran! I-i don't know what to do! Something is wrong and and...and I don't know what to do!"

Now you're wide awake. "Jungkook-ah what's wrong? What's going on?"

You sit straight up in your bed, fear pooling deep in your stomach.

Please let nothing have happened to Ji Ran.

"I-i don't know! We were up having a midnight snack since she gets hungry late at night and and then she couldn't breathe. S-so I rushed her to the hospital but they wouldn't let me go back with her. I-i feel like I'm going crazy. I don't know what to do..." Jungkook sounds like he's in full panic mode. You can hear the desperation in his voice.

"Y/N-ah... I-i need you...please..now..."

The sheer volume of those little quiet words weigh on you. Your heart cracks as his voice does.

"Where are you at right now? Which hospital?" You ask, quickly pulling on clothes, not daring to end the call with Jungkook.

"The General Hospital." He responds. You hear the clicking of his boots pacing back and forth and the shallow quick breaths he takes.

"I'm on my way right now." You grab your keys, start your car and fly like the wind.

"Okay thank you...thank you..." He breaths into the phone, clearly relieved. He seems to be calming down.

Jungkook ends the call once he sees you walk into the waiting room. He walks over to you then suddenly pulls you into a hug.

"Thank you so much..." he whispers, breath tickling your ear. A bit stunned, you just stand there and nod. "O-of course."

Jungkook pulls back from you and sits down in one of the plush chairs. He bounces his leg nervously and keeps looking around. You stay silent for a little bit, assessing the situation. You shift to look at Jungkook.

"Ah..Jungkook-ah...what happened? Did the doctors say anything?" You ask him. He looks up at you.

"They said something about a reaction and then a lot of other medical terms. I'm not sure. I don't remember. I was so scared and all I could hear was Ji Ran gasping for air and blood roaring in my ears..." He drops his head into his hands.

"I-i thought I was a good dad...I'm supposed to protect her...I just don't want anything to happen to her..." His small defeated voice cracks your heart again. "It's always been just me and her since we had to leave Busan and my parents..."

You just stay silent as Jungkook's walls break down and everything spills out.

"I had Ji Ran young. You know that. I was a young and stupid 21 year old college kid. Her mother was my age in the same college. We'd been dating for a little while before Ji Ran was born...I-i thought we were going to be together forever especially after she was born but that wasn't true..." Jungkook took a shaky breath and trudged on.

"Ji Ran was just a mistake for her."

You try to control the anger flaring up. From your years of caring for her, you came to love her little bright self. How could anyone just up and leave Ji Ran? Or Jungkook, who loves his daughter with every fiber in his being? How could she be so heartless?

His soft voice pulls you out of your head. "Ji Ran's mother took off after she was born and left me with Ji Ran but she was the best accident in my entire life. I-i didn't realize how much I could love someone until I saw her. My entire world changed when I first held her..." His voice cracks again and his eyes get watery.

Jungkook rubs at his eyes aggressively trying to stop the tears. He sniffs loudly. "I tried to do both, be a dad and still go to college. My parents took care of her as I finished that year out but I realized I missed her so much. I didn't want to go to school anymore. Ji Ran was growing up so fast and I was missing things because I was at school. So I dropped out..." He chuckles a little, rubbing his eyes some more.

"My parents were furious when I told them I was dropping out but grew to understand. I had learned enough in my business courses so I used some of my savings and bought my tattoo parlor, Euphoria Tattoos." You glance at the tapestry of tattoos winding up and down his arms and hands. The colors and designs peeking in and out of view as he shifts positions. You've never seen his tattoos this up close before... Each one seemed to tell a different story.

"I've always liked tattoos, drawing, and being creative so I figured why not? It won't hurt to try... but I would have to move to Seoul to do it. That meant I had to leave my family back in Busan and take Ji Ran with me to a new city all by myself... I-i was scared shitless to do it. I already took care of Ji Ran myself so the burden wasn't put all on my parents and to show I could be a good dad at a young age but it was scary. What if something happened? My family was so far away. What if I couldn't protect her? T-then tonight happens and shows me..." His voice cracks more and he sniffs again.

You reach over and grab one of his hands. "You are a good father Jungkook-ah. One of the best I've seen. You care so much for Ji Ran and you always put her first. I know she will be just fine. The doctors just have to run some tests or something. It’ll all be alright.” 

Jungkook looks up at you. "You promise?" You nod and give him a small smile. 

"I promise."

He gives you a soft smile back and squeezes your hand. "Okay."

You stay silent for a little bit, thinking about everything Jungkook told you. He just spilled his entire life to you...

"Jungkook-ah?" You softly get his attention. He looks up at you, those normally piercing dark eyes now soft and watery, looking millions of years older. "Thank you for...telling me." He looks away, his cheeks coloring red a little. "Y-you're welcome...i-it just felt right to." 

For the next couple hours Jungkook keeps holding your hand like it's his lifeline. Your eyes grow heavy with the need to sleep as the adrenaline eventually wears off. Your head keeps nodding until Jungkook says something about it.

"Y/N-ah, if you're tired you can take a nap. I'm alright now, I promise." He tells you softly. You wave away his words.

"Ah no no I'm fine... I'm not tired at all." You reply sleepily. Jungkook sighs and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You try to push away from him but he tightens his arm around you.

"Y/N-ah." He says in soft yet stern voice. "You're tired, sleep. I don't need you trying to stay awake and then drive home tired. You could get in an accident. I'll wake you up if there's news about Ji Ran." To emphasize his point, he grabs your head and puts it on his shoulder.

You are surprised by his actions and words but give into your need to sleep. "He does have a good point..."  You think as you drift off to sleep.

It feels like only moments later when Jungkook is nudging you awake. "Y/N-ah... the doctor is here." You pull yourself off him and rub your eyes. "Mnngh okay.."  You reply sleepily.

Jungkook stands up and offers you a hand. You take it and stand up next to him. The doctor begins to fill you both in on what went on with Ji Ran.

"Jungkook-ssi" The doctor bows slightly to him and to you next, "And you must be Ji Ran's mother." Surprised you tried to explain the situation, "I-i'm-"  But Jungkook butts in.

"Ah yes she is, she was caught up with things at her parents house." He nudges you to follow what he was saying. Not sure what was going on, you just smile and nod. The doctor smiles softly at you two and continues with their report.

"I'm Dr.Park. I’ve been taking care of your daughter. After the tests we ran we found out why she had such a hard time breathing when she came in." The young-looking doctor stated. "We learned she has allergies to mangos. The mangos caused an allergic reaction which made her throat swell up and caused the breathing issues. As long as you keep her away from mangos, she should be just fine. I'll give you a prescription for EpiPens and show you both how to use them once Ji Ran wakes up so you all can learn."

Jungkook almost falls to his knees in relief but you grip his arm to keep him up. He was visibly shaking. "Thank you Dr.Park. C-can I go see her now?" The doctor nods, "Yes you can. Follow me, I'll show you to her room." As the doctor turns their back to you two, you look at Jungkook.

"What was that?"  You whisper harshly at him. He looks down at the passing floor tiles. "If you're not kin, you can't see her and I knew you'd want to see her..." He whispers back softly.

"Oh.. thank you..."  Now you felt like an ass. Jungkook knew how much you cared for Ji Ran. Your heart melted a little more for the large man next to you.

Soon you reached Ji Ran's room and Dr.Park let you in. Ji Ran was sound asleep in the big hospital bed, looking so tiny. Jungkook went right up to the side of her bed and began to smooth her hair down. You turn towards Dr.Park and bow. "Thank you so much for your help. How long will she have to stay here?"

Dr.Park picks up Ji Ran's charts and flips a page up. "Only until tomorrow morning. We just wanted to keep her under watch to make sure the medicine doesn't cause an allergic reaction or any other complications. We'll come in later to show you all how to use the EpiPens." You nod and bow to thank Dr.Park.

Dr.Park nods in response and exits the room, leaving you and Jungkook alone with Ji Ran.

Ji Ran stirs and wakes up. "Daddy?..." she croaks softly. Jungkook grabs her hand and holds it to his cheek. "I'm here baby... I'm here." He leans over and kisses her face all over, trying to make her giggle. "Daddy... stop...I'm too tired." She giggles lightly. He stops and kisses just her forehead. "Alright my princess, you need to sleep."

You walk closer to the bed but stay behind Jungkook, not wanting to burst the moment. Ji Ran noticed you even as you tried to melt into the background.

"Ms.Y/N!" Ji Ran exclaims even as her little eyelids droop with exhaustion. You reach over to move a piece of Ji Ran's hair behind her ear.

"Hi Ji Ran-ah...How are you feeling?" You ask softly, stroking her face. She smiles softly at you, "I'm tired and scared. But happy now that you and Daddy are here." You smile softly back. "I'm glad."

Jungkook looks up at you and grabs your hand with his free hand. You look down into those dark eyes. So many feelings swirl in those eyes, making them soften and shine at you. Your heart melts even more. He smiles up at you and squeezes your hand. "Thank you." His eyes say to you. You nod back in response.

"Daddy?" Ji Ran's small voice pulls your attentions back to her. "Can you hold me?...I'm scared to stay here alone..." Her little body twists to face Jungkook.

"Of course baby but you're not alone. I’m going to spend the night with you." He whispers to her as he gently picks up Ji Ran and pulls her close to his chest, hugging her tightly. He walks over to the reclining chair and sits down with her. Ji Ran sprawls out on Jungkook's chest with her tiny thumb in her mouth, looking at peace. He starts to rub her back and hums softly to get her to fall back asleep. 

You go sit down in another chair and curl up, resting your head on the arm. As you watch how Jungkook is with Ji Ran, your heart grows tenfold at the scene in front of you.

Jungkook glances up at you, catching your attention. "Thank you so much." He mouths to you. You smile and mouth back. "Of course." The smile he gives you could light up a whole room. Your heart aches at the sight of it.

"He's the type of dad I would want for my kids..." You think, still looking at the little family in front of you. "He cares so much for Ji Ran..." You continue to think, your heartbeat growing faster at the sight of Jungkook. "Oh no..."  You feel butterflies forming in your stomach, bumping around.

Jungkook takes one last look at you, those dark eyes burned into yours and you fear he'd be able to see inside your thoughts. See what you were feeling and desperately trying to hide. You look away from him as he drops his chin onto Ji Ran's head, falling asleep. You close your eyes too, cheeks flushed in the dark room.

The sounds of Jungkook's and Ji Ran's rhythmic breathing lull your exhausted body to sleep.

Sunlight softly streams in between the openings in the blinds. "Mmmngg..." You groan while stretching your body, popping your shoulders and rolling your neck. You open your eyes to an unfamiliar place. But then you remember. "Ji Ran's hospital room."

Sitting up, you look around the room while rubbing leftover sleep from your eyes. Jungkook is awake with Ji Ran eating a light breakfast. He notices you're awake. "Oh you're up? Did you sleep well?" He asks sincerely while helping Ji Ran eat, the little girl looking up to smile at you then went back to eating.

You nod. "I did... Thank you for asking." Jungkook gives you a soft smile and turns his attention back to his daughter. Your heart flutters again at his words and that soft smile. You push your hand into your chest, trying to will your heart to stop fluttering.

That was the last thing you needed was to fall in love with one of your clients... But oddly enough Jungkook didn't seem like just a client anymore. You two had a... special bond now. Your eyes found Ji Ran sitting in her dad's lap, happily eating.

Your special bond was Ji Ran.

She brought light and happiness to your world. You had a special spot for her in your heart. Jungkook seemed to know that too.

You quietly got up to use the restroom. While you were gone Jungkook looked down at his daughter. "Ji Ran-ah." He whispered so you wouldn't hear him.

Ji Ran looked up at her father. "Yes daddy?" She whispered back.

"Do you like Ms.Y/N?" He asked Ji Ran.

She nodded aggressively and a big smile spread across her face. "More than that. She's the mommy I've always wanted. She plays with me and feeds me yummy snacks and always hugs me. I love Ms.Y/N." Jungkook can see the light shining in his daughter's eyes when she speaks about you. You really have made an impression on her these past two years.

Jungkook snuggles his daughter close. "Me too sweetie... me too." 

The contact was nice though, initially. Jungkook's lips tasted and smelled like strawberries. After the initial shock, the softer, firmer pressing of his lips became kind of pleasant. If you ignored the metallic aftertaste of blood, that is. Which you couldn't, really, as beads of blood pooled between your lips, both of you parted with a wince. When you opened your eyes your gaze tried to focus on anything and everything. Through the haze of your spinning mind you saw jungkook's wide eyes, his fingers stained in blood, blurry faces of friends and spectators… and her among them.

There was an indescifrable expression on Yoonji's face as your unfocused eyes landed on hers. Tried as you might you couldn't pinpoint it. There seemed to be a slight frown to her pouty mouth, a crease on her brow… a darkness to her eyes. Was she disgusted with your shameless behaviour? Was she mad you had gotten yourself drunk and now she had to deal with your shenanigans? Was she—? You couldn't follow your train of thought to its disastrous next suggestion, as Yoonji stormed off the room without a word.

Confused and slightly overwhelmed, your limbs stopped reacting as you became paralyzed by a wave of anxiety. Your unfocused eyes glued to the irregular patch of carpeted floor before you. Voices and music blurred around the edges, everything was too much, and the overwhelming sensation of shame/guilt made you sick to your stomach. But why, why did it feel wrong? Why did you feel like this?

Jungkook tried reaching out to you, calling out your name, brushing the skin of your arm. You flinched at his touch. The sensation felt foreign, an out of body experience.

Hoseok approached you both, trying in vain to suppress a face-splitting grin. "Yo, Y/N!"

Your stomach turned over itself in anxiety, you couldn't look at anyone in the eye, you wanted to get out of there asap. In a last desperate attempt to save face, your body doubled over itself trying to stop the convulsions of your stomach from emptying its contents on Namjoon's carpet.

"Hey, hey, are you alright?" Hoseok was making an effort to keep himself from giggling, you had to give him that.

You shook your head no.

"Alright, let's get you outta here." Hoseok helped you to stand. A relief. But Jung Hoseok was the antonym of subtlety. "Ok, there's nothing to see here everybody! Keep on with what you're doing. MOVE."

If people had been looking at you with curiosity before, they were now staring . You silently took back your feelings of gratitude towards the boy. Jungkook insisted on accompanying you to the bathroom, and even driving you back to your apartment, but you refused. Being around him was too much for you right now, it only worsened the nauseous feeling in your stomach. The least you needed was to add barfing all over a pretty boy to your list of achievements for the night. After giving you a glass of water that tasted like shit, Hoseok took you to the second floor barely avoiding getting barfed on by you.

"And here we are," Hoseok ushered you into the first door on the left. A bathroom. "What are you waiting for? Go, go!"

"I'm not puking here, that's gross."

"Oh yes you are, I gave you water with salt to help you with that."

"¿Wha—?" Your eyes opened in alarm. Just as you were about to protest, an uncontainable wave of nausea overpowered you.

Not even a second later, you were spilling all the contents of your stomach on the toilet. Hoseok rushed to your side to hold your hair back, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Find Yoonji, I wanna go home," you croaked.

“You sure you’ll be okay if I leave to go look for her?” He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, Hoseok gave you a last glance before disappearing behind the door. You were left in silence, but it still took you a moment to recollect yourself on the cold tile floor. Your mind was a blank, anxious mess. You'd be facing Yoonji… you had to say something. You felt you had to say something to her, about the kiss. What exactly though, you weren't sure. Maybe it was the reeling of your mind coming down from the events that had transpired, the high of adrenaline and alcohol.

Your legs were wobbly and your vision hazy as you got up to wash your face. Vertigo swayed your body, and you clutched onto the faucet. The coolness of the water was a welcomed sensation. You washed away with ernst the taste of bitter alcohol and bile, and Jungkook. Nothing personal, but that first kiss wasn't short of traumatic. The image of your disheveled appearance caught your eye in the reflection of the small mirror before you. Smeared lipstick and smudged mascara have you looking like a hot mess. You tried fixing it as much as possible, until three knocks interrupted.

“Hey…”

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“I’ll be waiting for you on the driveway.” It was Yoonji.

“Wait!” You rushed to the door, lest she left again before you could catch her.

Yoonji was still there, just about to turn on her feet to leave. A slightly startled expression on her face by the suddenness of your actions. Hands in her pockets, she turned her eyes away as soon as they landed on yours.

“Ready?”

There was a knot of mixed feelings growing in your chest as you gazed at her in the dimly lit hallway. A feeling of uneasiness creeping in the air as you made up your mind about something you weren’t even fully aware yet. Words just fell out of your mouth without second-thinking about it.

“No,” you confessed “can we talk?”

Yoonji turned to look at you with an annoyed expression. “Right now? Can’t it wait until we get home?”

You floundered under her deflection.

Yoonji made a show of being tired by releasing a deep sigh. “Or maybe tomorrow? We can talk anytime about whatever this is, you know?”

Her words echoed inside your mind, and you took your sweet time contemplating them. Could you, really? Will there be any other chance in the near future, for you to clear this air of unresolved, lingering, something? You scanned Yoonji’s neutral features for answers. She avoided your gaze. Ha. That was a damn slim chance.

“We can’t.” Your hand shot to take her wrist in your grasp. “It has to be now,” you stumbled upon your words. Without waiting for her answer, you rode the wave of newly found courage and led Yoonji into the unoccupied room to your right.

She didn’t get enough time to actually fight or protest against it, before you opened the door and ushered her inside with you. The light was off, but you didn’t bother turning it on. There’s a big window on the opposite side, that let in just enough moonlight into the room for you to know your surroundings. You sat Yoonji on the edge of the bed.

“What are we doing here?” she groaned.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have kissed Jungkook.”

You weren't going to beat around the bush. Yoonji seemed only partially bewildered by the bluntness which you approached the topic of your talk. Her eyes went the tiniest bit wide in surprise. There was some interest written in her features, but she quickly hid it away.

“Why, because you nearly chopped off his lips?” Yoonji diverted with small chuckle.

“No, I’m being serious,” you took her hand in yours. “It’s just—." You sighed, shut your eyes closed to gather up courage for what you were about to do. "I don’t think I actually like Jungkook. I think… I think I might like you.”

The silence that fell over the room after your confession, grew heavy with expectation with each passing heartbeat. The muffled sound of the music downstairs and the cicadas outside, rang in your ears as you opened your eyes to gauge at Yoonji's expression. There was a deep frown on her brow.

“Me… ?" She echoed. A dead beat of cold silence stretched in the air of your lungs before she spoke again. "Why are you telling me this?” Yoonji breathed, barely a whisper.

There was something in her eyes, something you had seen before but didn't get to decypher before her expression changed again.

“Wait, you're drunk," she muttered bluntly. "You're still drunk."

Yoonji made a move to leave, so you held tighter onto her hand. "Am not! I'm being honest with you I—."

"I'm sorry, but this makes no sense to me," Yoonji yanked her hand away. "You don't like Jungkook now? You think you like me ?" She chuckled humorlessly as she stood up. "What are you even talking about? Kissing Jungkook is all you’ve been going on about for weeks . You asked me for tips on how to kiss him .”

“I liked you long before that."

"When? I don't believe you." Her gaze hardened.

You sighed in exasperation at her stubbornness, but proceeded to explain nonetheless because you understood where she was coming from.

"When Namjoon first introduced us. I thought you were attractive, but I never really made a move because I thought you and him were a thing. Since you two spent so much time together, producing and composing and all of that." You fell onto the bed. "Me and Namjoon? Yeah, fat chance," Yoonji snorted, sitting beside you on the mattress with a creak. A good sign.

"I just ruled you out completely off the market. And then we started sharing apartment and I never really thought about it again," you continued. "Until a few weeks ago…" You tried to meet her gaze.

"Why didn't you make a move then?" Yoonji's eyes pierced through you.

"I did. Multiple times."

Yoonji sighed, averted her gaze to the ceiling.

"You asking me for tips on how to kiss someone else was your big idea of a move?" She gave you a sceptical look.

You cringed. "When you put it like that it sounds terrible... but yeah, it was. So what, sue me. I'm a dumb bitch and I'm fucking shy!" You hit her with a pillow.

The action was reciprocated by a hit to the face with a cushion. Which then escalated into a full blown pillow fight and burst of mischievous giggles... which ended in a tickle fight. And you below Yoonji’s body, her knee between your thighs. Her body hovered over you, her piercing eyes scanning for your reaction as her knee pushed higher, and your breath got caught in your throat. Her hands snaked around your wrists, pinned you with hesitant gentleness to the bed.

"Why did you went through with kissing Jungkook in that spin the bottle game?" Yoonji murmured.

"Please Yoons, it's just a drunk party kiss, it means nothing,” you dismissed, with a forced chuckle.

Yoonji’s gaze wavered, her brow pulled together. And there it was. That thing, in her eyes. It was her walls coming down, opening up the slightest bit for a sliver of you to come in.

"And this?" she threaded her slender fingers around yours, her voice barely above a whisper. "Would this mean something to you?"

"That depends on if you want it to," your voice came out hoarse.

You were having difficulty with breathing, the air was charged with anticipation of what was about to come next. Yoonji leaned on you, your bodies now pressed closely together, her lips a breath apart. You closed your eyes, and welcomed the fluttering sensation of her soft cherry mouth. Her kiss was a starking contrast to your recent,previous experience. Calmer, softer, sober . In more ways than one. But at the same time ardent, passionate, ignating. Your chest filled to the brim with consuming fire. Your senses lit up alive.

Yoonji's lips moved slowly at first, one of her hands cupping your face, guiding you towards her. The motions grew impatient soon enough, and your bodies were tightly pressed chest to chest. It felt right, complete .

You broke the kiss with a gasp for air. Yoonji’s knee was pressed more intently against your needy core. All the blood rushed downwards in arousal as Yoonji pressed your clit through your skirt with mischievous intent.

“Mmn… you’re wet already,” she purred, with a smirk. She kissed a trail of kisses all over the sensitive spots of your neck.

You whined in response as your cheeks blushed red. Things were escalating fast, but you didn’t have any plans to back down. If you were gonna crash, might as well accelerate .  You wanted her hands all over you, not holding you down.

“Yoonji…” you whined, as you lifted your hips against her knee. “My hands.”

Yoonji released them like they burned, with a rumbling sound at the back of her throat that resembled a complaint. You got what you wanted and now her hands were palming at your waist, and then your thighs as she brought you to sit with her. Her knee still between your legs, pressing against your swelling bundle of nerves.

You gawked at her disheveled appearance, never in your life had you seen Min Yoonji like this. Dark, hooded eyes, full of lust and pouty lips swollen from kissing. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen. It was hard to catch your breath when the sight knocked the air out of your lungs again.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, staring meaningfully into her eyes. She had to know… “And I don’t mean just your face. I’m talking about you, and the art you carry inside.”

Yoonji’s eyes softened, glossed even, for a moment.

“Shut up, you’re such a cheese,” she rolled her eyes, but leant in to press a firm, gentle kiss to your lips. Her mouth tasted like cherry chapstick, and you tucked the memory to the back of your mind.

Fandom: BTS Reader-insert: Female Genre: Romance Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader Warnings: None Word Count: 616

It had been one of those halcyon rural nightfalls, those culminating mesmeric sundown's she'd known he had an all too aberrant penchant for. A benign tranquillity mediating amongst them as the moonlight barely brought life to the terrain surrounding, everything yonder a picture of secrecy to the caricature naked eye and near complete reticence besides the genial rustling of the bosky grass beneath them. Y/N remembers thinking she could never forget a time like that, a claudicant moment when he'd sat before her, fracturable as ever, a corpulent stretch of arms lengths keeping them— much to her chagrin— alienated from the other, his tall legs bent taut to his chest, arms clasped around the span of his calves and his forehead stuck to the hard callous bones of his knees. At the time it'd been such a mystifying sight, so implausibly strange she'd had no idea what to say to him, no collated words seemed explicitly helpful nor fitting then. So, she'd watched him instead, figure bent like his own, cheek to knees whilst she observed him meticulously, eyes centralised on the rhythmic heaved breaths curling at the rounds of his spine, the fractious shake seizing his tightly clasped fingers and rendering him— weak? Y/N had scrunched her nose at the word. Taehyung wasn't weak, not her best friend, not the charismatic libidinous brazen Apollo that emanated with a cocksure aura she'd always envied. Weak had been the last thing she'd ever describe him as. Yet, there he'd presented himself before her, emphatic harrowing sobs racking through the frame of his body, cursing the easeful night with a wretched cry for help and making her wonder. What had it taken to fully shatter a boy so complete? He'd yet to tell her why he'd called, not that she'd asked either, the hoarse skittish tone in his voice had choked the stemming question in her throat, superseding it with a curt mutter of agreement; settling to meet him at such a time despite the few hours left before start of school. Howbeit, she'd never regret it, even with the fact he'd caused her stellar attendance to be barred with her first ever uncharted truancy. She could never bring herself to second guess her decision to meet him, not when he'd finally looked at her the way he did— talked to her the way he did— or even touched her the way he did. Y/N had found herself admiring him then, admiring the way he'd composed himself somewhat, cries lapsing into here and there subdued gasps and whispers as he'd gripped onto his clothing with an iron fist. Building his cinder block walls back as steep as ever, as if all he'd really needed was just to let it all out, for that fugitive moment, he'd just needed to be boundless, completely sedate with an inspirited freedom. And all he'd wanted was her there, an understanding of silence as she'd waited on the grounds that he'd just needed her presence— nothing more, nothing less. "Sorry," he'd murmured, the taper whites of his eyes delineated a wounded scarlet when he chanced a fleeting glance at her, an almost pitiable sniffle crinkling at his nose and his desiccant lips parting ever so effortlessly when he spoke, a blithe whisper being all that was made of the words. "I'm sorry, Y/N." "Hmm?" Y/N's lips had stooped into an addled grimace. For what reason did he have to be sorry? She hadn't been the one with stale streaks of tears lining her ruddy cheeks, neither had she been the one to sound so damaged, so obscured. And still, the sincerity of the utterance hadn't been lost in transit, leaving her as dumbstruck as ever, back straightening as she narrowed her eyes. "For what?" "Dragging you here—" He scuffed his shoes on the rocky mud beneath him, pretending the display had become of sudden concern to him as he refused to look at her. He'd know what she'd been thinking if he had, Y/N had always been so transparent to him, a facile gander being all it took to fathom the thoughts she'd assumed her face had hidden. And he hadn't needed— wanted it, not then, definitely not then. "You shouldn't have come out here for me. Should have told me to fuck off or something." Y/N had nodded mindlessly, she wasn't completely oblivious, she'd known he was a lot more partial in venturing to divert the conversation from what she'd just witnessed, than feigning he hadn't really needed her. But she'd went along with it, she'd replied, "Maybe." A heedless lift of her shoulders followed by a genteel laugh as she ran her clammy palms up her thigh. "It's too late now though, isn't it?" She asked, rhetorically, of course, clapping her hands together with a simper. "Anyway, who are you kidding? I would have come regardless." Taehyung scoffed, his head rising to finally look at her properly, finally bask in her fixed gaze, curiosity drawing at her brows and questioning at her lips. Of course, that had been her answer, he hadn't really expected anything less, not from Y/N, her heart had been too warm for that, too impulsively caring and big to leave him by himself at a time like that. And he'd known that. "Y/N, you ever wonder if erm—" He sighed, a hefty breath clearing his thoughts momentarily, head sloping upwards as the incandescent stars began to illuminate the twilight sky, one by one, enlightening it with a picturesque artistry of love, hope, and new beginnings. All of which he'd found he wanted, craved even. "You ever wonder if you'll ever find that someone, you know? That someone that makes you, for the first time in your life want to care— really really care, for them and them for you. Someone you know you'd do anything for." Y/N imagines her face must have been a picture of curiosity when he'd looked at her, a chary smile and an airy shrug thrown her way to ease the weighty burden of his thoughts. As if he'd known she felt out of her depth but continued anyway. "You ever just sit and wonder if that perfect person actually exists, or— or if you're just never meant to feel that kind of happiness. If that person may be someone else's first, never to be yours, no matter how much you want them because that's just the way the world works." He'd chuckled despite his copious tone, outstretching his lengthy legs forward, balls of his palms pressed to the ground behind him whilst he'd looked at her, regarding her with such scrutiny, as if she'd never fully understood but he'd said it anyway. And Y/N hadn't understood, not then, not really. She'd cleared her throat, tugging at the frayed ends of her woolly jumper nervously, eyes veering away from his as the sudden overwhelming feeling of being under his pointed gaze seeped below her skin, shuddering down her spine and making her feel as if she were the reason they'd been cooped at the top of the mountain and not him, as if she'd been the one that needed to let go. Taehyung always had a way of doing that, like an art he'd defined, his undeviating attention compelling one to feel under examination, no matter the circumstance. And it'd always worked on her, his stare heating her body with an analeptic warmth she could never explain despite her tries. She'd swallowed, throat dry and hoarse, the question she'd been waiting to ask right at the tip of her tongue. "What makes you say that?" He'd snorted jovially. "Y/N, my mother's been cheating on my father for as long as I can remember, hell, for as long as we can remember—," he'd said, a spiteful jeer in his voice as he'd spat out the term 'mother' like it had left an astringent taste of repulsion in his mouth and she could do nothing but wince. "— and he lets her. He just fucking lets her, no matter what I say. He lets her fucking prance around with her other fucking family as if she's fucking proud of it. God, she's such a bitch, such a fucking gold-digging bitch, embarrassing him like she does, making him seem like he's a fucking stupid idiot, because of what? Huh? Why Y/N? Why?" He'd looked at her, glassy eyes wide and crazed as he'd searched for the answers in her face, pupils flicking from side to side as if he'd really believed that if he'd looked hard enough, he'd find it. But he wouldn't, she hadn't had those answers for him. She'd ran her tongue across the surface of her dry lips, answering with the only thing she'd known was true. "Love is blind." Taehyung shook his head, a sheer protest to her reply. "No. Love is bullshit." He'd countered, an unnerving finality strong within his tone. "It's him that's fucking blind. God, I hate her so much, you know. She's such a fucking parasite, worming her way into his money without a care in the world and he just doesn't deserve that. I wish he'd never met her." He heaved a sigh burying his face into his hands and dragging them down as he sloped his head back. "She uh— She wants to send Namjoon into one of these private prestigious universities, and she asked my own father to pay for it. She asked my father to pay to send a child, that is not his own, to a beyond fucking expensive school. And he'd just said yes. I tried— I fucking tried to speak some sense into him, but erm my mother didn't really like that, did she." He'd twisted his head to the side, giving her a proper view of the other half of his face, a sweltering claret hand mark pressed angrily into his cheek and Y/N's heart had clenched at the sight. Next moves done with little to no hesitation, clambering onto her knees, stationing herself beside him as she took his cheek into the tenderness of her palm, thumb stroking away the stray tears whilst he melted into her touch, lids fluttering to a steady close. She'd smiled dolefully. "Your father is just— he's just a victim to unjust love, I guess. He's already in too deep and to get out from that place must be so hard for him you know. It won't be like that for you. I promise." "Y/N, I think—" His eyes opened with a smile almost as forlorn as her own, as he moved away from her feathery caress. "I think I've found that person that I think of 24/7, the person that I want to see smiling, that I want to be the reason for it," He'd divulged before pausing, blinking ever so languidly and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. "But I don't want to be my father. I can't be my father. And that scares me because I really do think I've found her." He'd sounded like it, sorrow thick and corpulent in his speech, tongue bandaging 'round the words so fluently she'd almost believed he'd practised it beforehand. But he'd shaken his head, fingers combing through the legion umber tussocks of his hair and roughing it up ever so slightly. "Promise me something." "What?" "Here." He'd opened his arms wide, enveloping her within his hold, her head rested on the slope of his shoulder as his arm pulled her skin-tight by her waist. It had been warmer like that, the wind hardly noticeable with the makeshift barricade they'd created, it was one of the first things she'd noticed, that and the way his heart had beaten, at a pace faster than normal yet just as steady. "Promise me you'll never leave—" "Tae—" "No, just— just listen." He'd insisted, gripping her just that bit tighter like he'd been scared she'd make a run for it if he didn't. "Promise that no matter what I do, no matter how much I fuck up, you'll never leave me. You're the only one I trust Y/N. I— Promise that if we never find true love, or if somewhere along the lines it gets lost, or whatever bullshit, that we'll be each other's perfect someone's because you're the only one I know won't hurt me Y/N. Not like my mother." Y/N had stilled briefly, he couldn't be serious? In a few seconds, she'd hear the first tell-tale bubbles of laughter falling from his lips and giving him away like it always did. But the longer she'd waited, the more it felt like such a thing would never come and when she'd finally decided to peer up at him, he'd already been looking down at her, a bold sobriety in his features that stood its ground. She'd tutted, digging her elbow into his side with a mischievous nudge. "As if you could deal with me every single day," she'd stated, a splitting grin plastered on her face as she'd found it a lot more amusing than she probably should've. "Have you even thought about this? I would positively drive you up the wall and I know you would too." Taehyung shrugged indifferently, though, in reality, he'd already given it much more thought than he'd like to admit; he'd even weighed out the pros and cons like it were some thesis he'd have to give in. So yes, he'd done more than just thought about it. "Y/N, I could deal with you for eternity and more. You know why?" He'd stuck out his pinkie finger tentatively and Y/N knew she couldn't say no, not to him— never to Taehyung. She'd curled her smaller finger around his, fusing the aphonic promise amongst them as he daintily pressed his lips to her temple, murmuring lightly against the skin, just loud enough for her to catch it. "Because you're my best friend Y/N." And it'd been somewhere along those lines, somewhere amidst him baring all for her to see, before coating back his layers thicker, somewhere amongst the raw words he'd uttered and promises they'd made that she'd fallen in love with Taehyung for the first time, properly fell in love that is, heart beating out of its confinement's as she breathed him in for what felt like the first time ever. "And you're mine Tae."

"You didn't do it, did you?" "What?" Y/N's body lurches forward instantly, the book she'd been firmly clutching in her hands subdued onto the table gaudily, her rib jarring roughly on the whetted outskirt of the timber as she curses to herself.  "Jesus Christ, Min Yoongi," she hisses, resting a nervy palm over her chest to even the hasty cumbrous beats of her heart, turning her head to scowl at the boy standing behind her, his inklike hair vitric and glossy as his eyes bore flatly into hers. "Why are you like this?" He nods a scant tut of his teeth following his hum of confirmation. "So, you didn't." "Is it really that obvious?" She huffs, her cheeks swelling out marginally when she blows at the hair that briefly obscures her face and slumps down further into her seat. Yoongi lifts his shoulders apathetically, tucking his hands into his trousers and lounging amply in the seat beside her. "Well let me see, you're sitting in the library, reading—" He veers forward, flipping the hardcover book to a close, brows puckered and his lips screwing up in distaste when he inwardly reads the title of the astronomy book she'd picked up on a whim. "—whatever this fucking is when we were meant to be going to that pharmacy to get me more aspirin. I'd say it's a little more than pretty obvious, wouldn't you?" Y/N cries out, figure sagging as she plants her forehead to the table. "God, I'm sorry Yoongs. I completely forgot. I was just—" "Apology not accepted," He declares, cutting her off and overlapping his arms together. And Y/N can't help sneaking a cursory peep at him through the corner of her eye. He's looking straight at her, lashes flitting sluggishly, not even a trace of a smile picking at his lips and his brows raised expectantly. She knows he's irritated— well really, more than anything completely fed up of her, and she knows it's not because of some stupid aspirin. But she's got some pride, pride that won't let her admit to her wrongdoings. "What?" Yoongi scoffs, his head swaying almost humanely. "You're pathetic." That she is. Y/N would have to be categorically fucking pathetic to be hiding from her own boyfriend as if she's the one that's done wrong. As if she's the cheater. But she just can't face him, she can't bear the judging side-eyes she's been getting all day, the fleeting ganders of rapport, and the continuous indistinct murmurs about that silly, stupid rumour, which— leave it up to Taehyung— Y/N knows is plausibly true. It's as good as loathsome when she really thinks about it, she can't defend his honour if she tried, she can't pretend for even a second that such rumours may not be true. And yet, she continues to call herself his girlfriend. She laments, rooting her elbows to the table and capturing her face in the grasp of her palms. "I know. I know." Yoongi grimaces. "You wanna know who it was this time?"

Y/N shakes her head. She knows Yoongi doesn't intend to be purposefully callous all the time— nor does he really want to. It's just that she refuses to listen to him, he's told her time and time again that Taehyung doesn't care as she does, Yoongi's told her that Taehyung will continue to maltreat her, that even though he'll say he loves her; he doesn't. And still somehow, someway she contrives to persuade herself that he does. Taehyung does care. Taehyung won't hurt her. Taehyung loves her. "I'd rather not,” she replies. Acknowledging it would only make it worse— comprehending that tiny detail would only make it laborious to assure herself that she's not doubtlessly dense when she says that she loves him. And Yoongi knows that. "Well, it's Jennie," he blurts out. "Kim Jennie. The pretty girl that sits next to you in Chem, Jennie—" "Yoongi!" "No Y/N, look at me—" He clinches her wrist stiffly in his grip, yanking her arm forcibly enough that her torso swivels towards him till she's meeting him properly. Face hardly centimetres apart from his when he finally vocalises his intention. "—you need to get a fucking grip. The boy is cheating on you, whether you like it or not, he is," He jeers, a compact hitch in his lecture, his eyes wavering over her features as if to check he hasn't gone farther than he meant to. "Now, I don't know whatever fucking excuse you've conjured up for him in your head but Y/N this— this isn't normal, and it's not healthy." And she doesn't want to hear any more of it. She rips her arm away from him abruptly, wringing her palm around the wrist to soothe the biting sensation of his fingers. "Ouch, you're an asshole." "And you need to break up with him," He concludes, not a slither of a debate held in his emphasis or his rigid stare. "Oh, there you are Y/N." Fuck. Y/N curses under her breath, pegging in her spot and instantly preferring to be met with the drubbing defeat of Yoongi's self-satisfied smirk than to take notice of the boy she'd been trying to evade all day. Presence almost tyrannical as his confusion at her and Yoongi's current state lapses off him in fluctuations, an emotion that flushes warm under her skin against her will. "Do it now," Yoongi rasps, his voice hushed and ominous enough, a temporary mumble, that's meant for her ears only, before he rises to his feet, dusting nonexistent lint off the tops of his legs and beaming for the first time since he'd come. A smile that Y/N knows is all too phoney. "Anyway, we'll just go to the pharmacy after class. See you Y/N. Tae."

Y/N swallows thickly, eyes following the way Yoongi leaves in a quickstepped dash, gloomily coveting she could do the same. Or, better yet, just disappear. "What erm— What are you doing here?" She asks, glimpsing at the way Taehyung topples on the globes of his feet, grooming his hair by his fingers, shifting it backwards and allowing it to flounder down in place.

He grins, settling himself in the chair Yoongi had just departed from but hobbling it that tad bit closer to her so that their knees knock together when he leans in. "I couldn't find you this morning," he begins, allotting the plastic bag he'd had in his hold on the table. "But Jimin said he'd definitely seen you. So I thought, it's getting nearer to exams, of course, you'll be in the library and of course, you'll forget to eat. Aren't I great?" "Hmm." Y/N looks carefully between the bag and him, hands shoved in the centre of her pressed thighs, despairingly hoping to not seem too agitated. It's always harder when Taehyung's entirely sober. When he's like this, she can almost recognise the sparse remnants of her best friend, the one that knows all her favoured foods, an esoteric draw of a smile deep-rooted on his lips when he shreds the sandwich packet open, prompting the white breaded ham and cheese sandwich towards her. She reels her bottom lip into her mouth dubiously. It's a nice thing he's done, it really is. But it's not nice enough, it's not cordial enough to stop the claimant question— even though she knows— tumbling from her lips. "Who's Jennie?" Taehyung doesn't flinch, he propels his legs in front of him, arms spreading to retire behind her chair leisurely. "Who?" There's an almost cocky squint in his orbs, an audacious trace vivid in his pupils as if he thinks she'll give up now. Like she normally does. She won't though. She grates her teeth together, breathing in to compose herself— at least partially— before rephrasing her interrogation. "Who were you with the other night?" "Hmm?" He recoils this time, subtly, hauling his shoes upon the floor, eyes drawing to a wary squint and frowning. "What d'you mean?" Taehyung knows what she means, Y/N knows he does, he clicks his teeth and wheels his shoulders back as if he does and her fingers curve into fists. "After you left," she emphasises, an astringent exhalation coating the stressed words. "After you left, who were you with?" "I don't—" He huffs defeatedly, he's trying to remember— he really is. His forehead folds up in thought, brows neighbouring closely, ivories clamped onto his gums as he rummages through his whereabouts yesterday, but he's coming up muddled every time. There's nothing following Y/N as far as his memory goes. So he settles for what he hopes to be, an apologetic shrug. He just can't remember. "I don't know Y/N." Y/N snorts. "Yeah, okay," she drags, scoffing when she nudges his arm off her chair. She doesn't know why she's still entertaining him— actually she knows. She just doesn't know why she won't fucking listen to Yoongi, she can't fathom why whenever Taehyung looks at her with those brownish eyes of his all she can remember is the day he'd fretted being alone. The day she'd witnessed him crying and prayed she'd never see it again. "Y/N look, I don't remember what happened last night. But I know for sure I wasn't with anyone else," He insists, dragging at her chair easily, the wood irritating tawdrily against the floor and she has to jam her feet on the floor to get him to stop. She's full-on scowling now, temper flaring deep in her eyes when she stabs her forefinger to his chest. "You are such a fucking liar Taehyung!" "Be quiet," he scolds, eyes darting around the room, seizing hold of her finger and forcing it away promptly. “Don’t make a scene.”

“Don’t make a—” Y/N can’t believe him. He has the guts to tell her not to make a ‘scene’ because he can’t bear being called out. She pulls at the collar of her blazer, sheathing the clothing to suit her correctly as she arises to her feet. “You think I’m making a scene?” She snaps. She plucks up the neglected book with two hands, elevating it beyond her head and slamming it back down onto the desk forcibly, the turbulent thud echoing off the walls ‘round them and she smirks. “That’s making a scene.”

"For fuck's sake, Y/N." Taehyung hooks the pads of his finger into the flesh of her thigh in a bruising grapple, his other hand bunching her hair together and yanking her head back when he stands. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He snarls, wrenching at her hair again so that her scalp starts to throb at the pain. And in a way, it’s a relief he’d found Y/N in one of the more screened sections of the library because it means he can drive her, ass first onto the table, legs separating her thighs and his palms established by them as he confines her in. “I said, I wasn’t with anyone.”

“And I said, Jennie, begs to fucking differ.”

Taehyung paves the pads of his central finger and thumb into her chin, moving her downcast face towards him, outlining his teeth on the bony seams of her jaw. “Y/N, I promise I wasn’t with anyone,” he states, brushing a fluffy feathery kiss on the pill of her cheek, her eyelids involuntarily rippling to a close at the impromptu act. “Promise.”

Y/N shouldn’t be pondering this, she shouldn’t be relishing in how intimate he is to her right now, she unquestionably shouldn’t be craving more than just the kiss that he’s given her and she can nearly visualise the unimpressed stern scowl Yoongi would be bestowing her if he could see her now. However she’s stirring it aft, there’s something in the way Taehyung speaks to her, a deep velvety baritone that rattles within her body, coercing her to adhere to his every abhorrent will, and making everything seem alright. Her chest drops when she expires despondently, “You promise?” He nods, resting his forehead considerately against hers. “I promise. I would never do that to you. Now, can I kiss my favourite girl?”

Y/N abstains from declaring he has, that he’s done it to her so many time's shes even lost count, so she acknowledges him mutely instead, a moderately embracing smile displayed on her features when he skims his lips against hers, ambiguously at first, as if he’s stalling for her to rouse to her reasoning and shove him away. She doesn’t, her palms tarry securely adhered to the wooden surface and it’s all he needs. He deepens the kiss instantly, slanting her head up slightly when he does, his soft lips eager and completely him. Y/N can’t taste a drop of liquor on the depths of his tongue, she savours the richness of milk chocolate, the divine creaminess of peanut butter and the explicit freshness of mint. And the combination is so uniquely him, she can’t help but moan in bliss. His name befalling from her parted lips as his hand massages the skin of her thighs beneath her skirt, peppering sloppy moist kisses down her throat.

Taehyung smirks against the surface. “Love the way you say my name,” he mutters. “Gets me so fucking hard, you wouldn’t believe it.” He ruts his hips into hers, the rockhard bulge tightening in his trousers grazing against the cotton material of her panties solicitously and eliciting a sensual mewl that sings like a melody to his ears. “Fuck, so beautiful.”

Y/N burrows her nails far into his forearms, breath slipping out of regular paced rhythm as he continues to rut against her. She’s enjoying this, if she were to go by the possible state of her— by far— damp panties, she’d say she’s enjoying this a bit too much. And the risks are impossibly high, if someone, be it a teacher were to walk past the long dwindled passage she’s sure she’ll struggle to attain a fitting explanation for such a compromising position they’re in. But it doesn’t faze her in the slightest. She sucks his lower lip into her mouth when he lifts his head, scraping her teeth across the flesh libidinously before releasing it. “Want you to fuck me Tae,” she whispers, bucking her hips to meet him halfway. “Please fuck me.”

“Shit—” Taehyung coasts her skirt up her thighs when he grips at her hip to hold her down in place. Sincerely, he hadn’t come here with a purpose to fuck her at all, he’d truly just needed to make sure she’d eaten because he knows how forgetful she can get this time of year when exams are looming around the corner and she’s striving to juggle everything all at once in the most Y/N fashion, so, detrimentally struggling. But, who is he to pass up an opportunity like this. “—you have to be real quiet for me.”

“I will.” Or more accurately said, she’ll give it her best shot.

“Fuck,” he growls, shifting her panties out the way and parting her lips with two long digits. She’s already so so wet for him, her dewy juices glazing and warming the surface of his skin within seconds as he rubs her deliberately, flicking and pressing onto her clit in a swift manner that has Y/N gasping with tottering tremors. Taehyung adores her reactions the most, the way bantam things he does derives such pleasant sounds from her mouth in a way he knows only he’s heard. “God, you’re pretty.”

Y/N clamps a palm over her gaping mouth a strident gasp hushed and her eyes rolling back when he sinks his broad finger into her slit, curling the digit up inside her and grinding his thumb up against her clit. She nods nimbly. “Just like that, please.”

“Uh huh, you like that?” He draws his finger out just to his knuckle before thrusting it back into her, a hastened repetitive pattern, fucking her with his fingers and rubbing vigorously at her clit. And it’s more than enough to have Y/N casting her head back, chest arching towards him and her arms flung loosely around his neck. But he wants more— she wants more. He wants to see her writhing beneath him, total power granted to him as she dissolves in his arms. So he adds another finger, quickening his pace and brushing at her g-spot with every thrust. “Bet you like that better, huh?”

“Yes— fuck, yes.”

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” he husks, popping the buttons to her cream blouse apart with just a meagre run of his forefinger, her white bra hardly covering the plump mounds of her breast and he doesn’t waste any time, nipping at the supple flesh and marking her as his. “You’ll let me play with you wherever I fucking want, won’t you?”

Y/N whines in response, speech impaired by the way his long fingers abuse her cunt. Taehyung’s not taking it easy on her at all, he’s pumping in and out of her so rapidly that the entire table jolts marginally with the movement and she can’t help but imagine what damage his cock will do. The slushy sounds coming from her his fingers in her cunt are crass and lewd, embarrassing even, but she has no time to be bothered at all. Not when he’s speaking so erotically to her.

“You’re so fucking good like this—” He licks his lips at the sight of her, she’s definitely a work of art. One he thinks no-one could ever recreate, not his girl, definitely not Y/N. “—wish everyone could see how fucking nasty you can get. Tarnish that innocent persona of yours.”

“God Tae, I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah? You think you can take three fingers?” He presses another digit amongst the mix, her walls clamping tight against the intrusion and he groans, he can’t fucking wait to be inside her. “Gotta stretch that tight cunt nice and ready for my cock.”

Y/N can’t even hush the stagnated moan that puffs at her lips, the pushy stretch is almost a replica of his cock, and it’s all too much for her. He’s biting at her skin, rubbing at her clit and fucking her cunt with no respite and she’s overcome her heart stuttering, mind blank with a hazy fog and her toes curling in her shoes as she lets her orgasm take over. The shockwaves quivering through her figure, ousting uncontrollably at her hips whilst Taehyung susurrates praise of ‘that’s my girl’, ‘doing so fucking well’ and ‘god, you’re hot’ in her ears. And when she comes back down, lids finally flapping to an open, he’s grinning widely at her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

There’s a transparent sincerity in his words, that even in her blissed-out post-orgasm state, Y/N can identify the apprehensive tic in his eye when he says it as if he thinks he’s said a little too much. She chews at her lip. “Thanks.”

Taehyung clears his throat, pressing a peck to her forehead, one that she wishes he’d take back because it’s all too cosy, all to loving and misleading. So before he can say anything, she jumps the gun, stroking slowly at the bulge in his plants and peering up at him between her lashes. “You can fuck me now… please.”

He blinks, lulling for a moment in confusion before finding his bearings. “Yeah, yes, fuck sure.” He pulls his zip down instantly, only hauling his trousers and boxers down enough that he can get his cock out freely, a relieved sigh deflating his lungs when he frees his throbbing length from its confinement. “Fuck baby, like it better when you’re bent over for me.”

Y/N shifts off the table, twirling around and hiking her skirt up with a provoking wiggle of her ass. And it’s not until she’s properly doubled over, hands clutching the table edge fixedly that she notices the sheer black string of Yoongi’s basketball bag and she internally— well she hopes internally— panics. She knows Yoongi and she knows he’s done this on purpose to use as an excuse to come back when really all he’d be doing is checking to see if she’s broken up with Taehyung yet and she’s not even close. Y/N peers back, observing the way Taehyung strokes his cock with his palm, the tip already an indignant tint of red and she knows she’s gone too far to turn back now. She huffs. “Fuck, Tae you gotta hurry it up a bit.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, one I don’t really want to get caught by a teacher with your cock inside me,” she lies, partially lies, a teacher would definitely be worse than Yoongi catching them.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” He says, raising his brow at her. “I don’t think I really mind.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. Of course, he doesn't. “Tae!”

“Alright, alright.” Taehyung smooths his tip within her lips, wetting his cock before he drives his cock into her gradually, groaning gutturally, his brows bumped together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip at the way her clammy walls absorb him in fast. "Fuck baby," he murmurs, levelling his palm onto her ass cheek to steady himself. She’s always so fucking beautifully tight for him.

“God,” Y/N mewls, knuckles blanching when she tightens her grip. Taehyung fills her up so fully, his cock skintight against her walls, mundane crests and veins slotting perfectly and his length stretching to tickle her cervix when he’s bottomed out. “Christ, you’re so fucking thick.”

Taehyung curves his hand underneath to grasp her throat, crooking at her spine when he does. “You’re gonna have to be quieter now Y/N,” he remarks, stiffening his grip in early warning. “Know you can be a real fucking loud whore, but I need you to be my quiet little slut now. Okay?”

Y/N nods, whimpering softly as he begins to rock into her, lazy thrusts that don’t give her a fair chance to start out. He’s drawing himself out of her completely before ramming back into her, jostling her body flimsily forward and she fights to keep quiet, high pitched whines shaking at her lips that has Taehyung holding onto her throat that bit tighter everytime until she’s suppressed to pitiful cries and a buzzing lightheadedness.

She can’t do it. “Fuck, Tae, want it— need it faster.” Not only can she barely handle the intense lethargy in his strokes, but also, she really does need him to be faster, the knowledge that Yoongi could walk in at any time lingering weighted at the back of her mind and not at all sitting comfortably with her. “Need it now.”

Taehyung gives her what she wants without any fuss, he abides his secure hold on her throat, clasping at the smalls of her waist as he begins to pound into her, fast stubborn thrusts striking his hips against the cheeks of her ass way too raucously for the confines of a library, but they’re deaf to it. Both too caught up with the pleasurable feeling their surroundings become insignificant. Especially to Y/N, when he’s fucking her the way he does, impelling her insides with such carnal velocity, she can’t help but get caught up in the thought that he’s absolutely perfect for her. He knows her through and through, he knows she loves it when he pulls her taut against him, his chest against her back as he rams his cock in her at an angle that has her legs trembling. He knows she loves it when he makes it practically impossible to breathe his fingers digging so far into her throat he threatens to cut off her air supply. And he knows she loves it when he calls her his, his good girl.

Taehyung tugs on her earlobes with his teeth. “Shit, you’re such a fucking good girl for me, aren't you?” Her dewy walls clasp firmly around him, attempting to clamp him down still and he grits his teeth together, brutally fucking her swollen cunt deeper than he’d been before. “Should come right inside you, make you walk around with it running down your legs.”

“Oh fuck, please, fill me up.”

“Shit.” Taehyung’s thrusts stutter as she proceeds to clamp down on his pulsating cock, and he’s grunting, chest heaving as he twitches inside her. This is invariably his favourite part when he can pull her snug upon him, retaining her there, hands on her body when he releases himself inside her, spurting hot cords of his cum deep in her cunt and watching the way it leaks out of her when he pulls himself out. He glimpses up at her amusedly, her hair loose and wild, her lips bloodied and her cheeks flushed with sweat. She looks how he loves her, beautifully fucked out.

“How ‘bout you come to my house after, and I’ll make you feel really good later. Hmm?” He offers, trapping his cum from escaping with her panties.

Y/N sighs. Fuck, Yoongi’s really going to kill her. “Okay.”

In hindsight, Y/N shouldn’t have answered the door.

It’s not even her own house and yet she’d answered as if it were. And now she’s duly regretting it. There's a blustering ornate moment of replete stillness, a corralling overwrought minute that imperceptibly prolongs far beyond its time, unsettling her thoughts, muddling letters into indistinguishable words and relaying them in an all too manic frenzy. At least, that's what it feels like; the world seemingly to have jarred in its circular axis, inhabitants muted and dispersed into fickle nothings and all that's left is something— someone, Y/N can only describe as a memory sorely forgotten.

A memory who somehow looks mostly the same— it's been a long time, too long, she knows that. But somehow— somehow, his fulgent coral hair still tousles high with that hardly noticeable parting that impels it smoothly to the sides of his face, familiar dainty dimples indenting the skin either side of his cheek when he smiles at her briefly, causing those ticks, those zealous shakes and quivers that never fail to take her by surprise. Now, even more-so. She's stuck. Her curled fingers have gone numb against the silvered knob, feet involuntarily seeded to the timber beneath her feet, pithy breaths baited with an anxious pause as she double— triple takes. He still looks like the man she'd dreamed of a thousand dreams, he's just that bit more clean-cut, that bit more defined, that little bit more of everything she's ever wanted. "Namjoon," she says, the name leaving her lips like a whisper would, fickle and dainty, floating meaninglessly in the morning breeze. His head cleaves a paltry probing tilt, even brows drawing together in a helix and eyes squinting with definite curiosity when he finally speaks, seeming to have shaken off his own initial shock. "Y/N? Is that you?" He chances a meagre step forward, feet barely lifting from the ground. It's daring, he knows it— she shows it, her knuckles strain at the way she tightens her grip considerably, a sharp intake of breath and a responding shuffle backwards. "What am I talking about? Of course, it's you." Namjoon scoffs, more to himself than anything, an almost disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips as he shakes his head. "It's just— it's been so long, hasn't it? I haven't seen you in—" "Two years." Namjoon nods barely, scuffing his shoes on the ground beneath him as he watches her closely. Y/N recognises that look— those pretty brown eyes, orbs visibly shining amongst the light of fresh dawn, the whites ostensibly to have enlarged as his pupils ask several questions of new and old, questions she's sure she's not at all ready to answer. Not now. Not yet. Not when she can't even wrap her head around him being here. Not when she can't understand what he's doing back here— what he's doing in front of her. So she's stilted, she's wary, watching him with close guarded eyes, cutting his stuttered speech off all too harshly. "It's been two years, Namjoon," she reiterates, crossing her arms over and slacking against the outer edge of the door. 

"What are you doing here?"

‘People are staring.’ For a split second, there is a sudden trivial concern about how to come across to the public, wondering if they know what is going on and how the judgement of the display rings. A quick unsure glance sideways tells of the passing eyes throwing looks in random disinterest to what the winter sun is not allowed by Time to shroud in night, obscuring the scene from the distant public.

‘Let them. None of them has a chance with you nor me, so this is all they can do. You’re mine, only mine.’

No resistance meet the lips fully pressing against those of an immoral  being rendered speechless by the inability to fight back. Soft musky amber moans answer the breathless whimpers of the uncomprehending mouth unable to stop, goosebumps rising on every surface slender poetic fingers trace, going from the cheek over the chest clad in the loose onyx turtleneck belonging to a two-faced bear and ends at the hip where it mirrors the strength of its twin further below. Every last bit of Reason is destroyed by realized fantasy, the Self melting into the one holding it as close as possible without souls fully merging.

A short repose is taken for praise that makes scarlet spread all over a dazed expression, vision grown hazy and Thought grown intoxicated beyond redemption with the sweet poison of fully being owned by Namjoon. ‘You look so beautiful in my clothes, baby. Smell so nicely of me, showing all men just whose you are.’

What am I doing? This is wrong. I should step away, end this. While it’s still not too late.

Although delayed in arrival by a very long shot into the abyss of Madness, Logic heroically sprints in to make an attempt at preserving the heart from imminent disappointment as it has been doing since separated parents found a peer and an unexpected stepbrother turned the whole world upside down and inside out. Awake hands high on adrenaline make use of the opportunity to push the tall grey-haired man away distracted by the sight of a forbidden idol fashioned to match personal taste, unaware that doing so goes against Nature and the morals the curiously sensually venerated maid inherently stands for: individuality and liberty. In fact, boldness fueled by confused anger results in a firm smack on a tanned cheek that has been kissed quickly, meaninglessly, many times in thanks for a present.

A gift solely meant to buy affection, apparently.

Simple monetary favours functioning as a means to an end.

Probably the Fox’s heart was won the same despicable way, seduced by the very words now turned towards a reawakened fighter with a vision rimmed with scarlet.

The impact of the hit is great enough to make Namjoon face the female monument commemorating the resistance during The Second World War, the sound of skin on skin loud enough to make a few individuals turn around in wonder and find a scene frozen by time.

Notwithstanding, when the initial shock of the uncharacteristic action fades and sets the rage free once more, Reality resumes. ‘You fucking bastard! What’s wrong with you?’

Hands fall away from the figure to carefully brush over the irritated bright ruby spot in the form of a small palm, mapping out the damage and smiling curiously satisfied at the discovery it is more severe than expected. Yet, what is more worrisome than the predatory grin, is the calculated tone which is picked up to strike back lexically. ‘What’s wrong with me? I’m in love with you and you are with me. It’s a clear observation from the way you enjoyed that kiss, Y/N. You need me just as I need you.’

‘I’m my own person, Joon. You don’t need nor love me because my affection isn’t for sale.’ A barely visible shake of the head accompanied by a step backwards on the mustard cobblestones, away from the possessive poet, introduce a retreat while not knowing how far feet can run before being halted by the cunning wolf in front of them.

If they shall make it at all to the safety of seclusion, a sanctum of tranquillity in which thoughts can be gathered and a solution to safely get out of the situation can be contemplated. To build up the walls guarding the heart from the rubble caused by Intimacy, aided by the forces of Fantasy and foolish dreams.

Out of respect for Heungji, who is replaced too casually and easily.

To take the sensible righteous path.

Walk away.

Again.

Nonetheless, whereas fleeing to the invisible shadows had been effortless before, the very touch of the jailor captures the renegade anew with a grasp that will bruise the weak wrists giving in immediately for the worst of physical hurt instinctively wants to be evaded. The emotional equivalent is already a burdened cross to bear. ‘Not so fast, we’re not done. You’re not even going to apologize for slapping me?’

‘Apologize?’ Eyes widen in astonishment when turning obediently around in awareness of not being able to get anywhere thanks to a failed plan. ‘You’re fresh out of a breakup with a girl who clearly deserved better than the bloody bastard that left her. And as a reminder,’ with effort, the volume of speech is turned down to keep random ears deaf to the scandalous accusation of which the secret enjoyment shall never be admitted explicitly despite being revealed anyway, ‘you jerked off to your stepsister. It’s sick. Especially because you-’

A sarcastic huff followed by a similar-sounding comment disputes the judgement. ‘Because I am your stepbrother? We’re not related by blood and our parents aren’t married. Baby, listen-’

No, because you’re toying with me.

‘I’m not your baby nor bear. Think for a second, will you? Do you have any fucking idea how much this hurts, seeing this side of you? How can you be so cruel?’ Justice is demanded for two souls miles apart, unconnected in any way other than both being a woman attacked by the charms of a man who is truly an incarnated demon devoid of a sense of respect and honour.

Where are you, Namjoon? Who is this stranger?

‘Me? Cruel? I told you Heungji and I hadn’t been going well for a while, simply stretching time as friends until we both recognized that didn’t work either. We might as well have broken up a year ago. I simply didn’t tell you about it because adding my problems to the heap of your own would have made you break down completely. But I love you, hence is why I kept silent and tried to figure it out on my own, changing because of you. For you.’ It comes out in a waterfall, sentences flowing over a silver tongue that cannot be trusted for, surely, a worthless student could never have been the reason for a powerful composed man to change.

Lies, all of them.

All of this.

Us.

Stop playing with my heart.

Thwarted ears turn deaf to the beautiful imaginary truth, muting Fancy in favour of listening to the sensible being within crying out the advice to not give up since there is no such alternate universe as the one seemingly build in the inner cave wherein the flames reflect it on its walls. ‘No, it wasn’t because of me. You’re just upset and need comfort, which is fine but don’t talk as if I mean anything other to you than a sister or of your ex as if she meant nothing. She’s a person as well. So stop sweet talking because I’ve heard enough bullshit.’

‘I’m not making this up, Y/N.’ Instead of incomprehension, full lips that are tempting with the allure of being kissed again retort into a snarl given earlier to Changkyun. Then the aggression was pointed at another target, but now it is at an individual who is supposedly cherished. ‘I do love you. I do want to be your man. I know I can’t buy love with money, but the reason for all those gifts is that it pleases me to do something, anything, for you and show you a bit of myself as well. That’s all there is to it, baby. Just me leaving silent clues of myself behind while trying to make you happy.’

Through the vigorously blazing menace in familiar espresso irises, faintly shines the unmistakable light of honesty and repressed fragility, both dimmed by the desperate attitude with a rigid edge that cut off a former mistress. ‘Yeah, right. I’m pretty damn sure this is how you seduced Heungji as well, playing the role of the handsome and nice dandy sugar daddy while also manipulating her to fit your tastes. Only to push her aside when a better, more nauseating, alternative comes along. Despicable. Good luck finding another unwarned girl because I’m not buying this crap.’

Please just shut up. I don’t want to hear any more sweet nothings nor have this awful lingering wish to be with you.

‘Y/N, I mean it. I don’t want anybody but you. Why is that so hard to understand?’ A vicious tug at the wrist that had almost succeeded in slipping away from its prison immediately pulls back a wise soul about to make a futile attempt at walking away in spite of being unbreakably chained to the lovely hell it has tried so hard to escape.

Glaring to where white knuckles hold on painfully tight, ignoring the unpleasantness to the best ability allows, the words come out almost in a growl with the hint of a pathetic dishonest plead of being set free. ‘Why can’t you just let me go? Stop with the mind games, saying the same empty things over and over again.’

‘Baby-’ Trembling digits, accelerated panicked breath.

At last eyes finally dare to brave the shaking wolf, have the courage to face the too dearly loved disguise it wears and able to berate it confidently without needing to oppress any disrupting stutters. ‘Stop fucking lying to me!’

‘No, you’re going to listen to me, you brat. Or I’ll have to show you your mistake.’ A curious lust distorts the tornado thought to be solely filled with hateful aggression, composure telling of the fact of being driven to dire straits and thus at the point of picking up weapons formerly unused.

A foolish mocking huff cuts the rope of the unspoken decision about obedience, leading down a road which might end in regret. Just not in the form it was anticipated to be. ‘Oh, you’ll show me? By all means, do your worst, you selfish lying bastard.’

‘Force it is, then.’

The tracks over the irregular mustard and reddish plum tiles leading from the plaza to the university edifice on the pope’s dyke are retraced with impatient haste, but not entirely as a sharp left turn is taken at the ironically placed statue of a medieval French poetic criminal to the tranquility of secluded gardens in a place of spiritual elevation. Golden lights filters in through the gothic intricate decorations of the weathered stone passageway, illuminating the dull tiles alternating between a lighter and darker shade of grey, all of them inherently different from the varying tones of the material used to build the sanctum. Lush green bushes form neat flower beds which also form a path to walk along, functioning as a guide when wandering around the garden.

At the end of the hallway, nearby heavy wooden doors remaining from the oldest days, rapidly striding onyx leather shoes and the Scottish mud-stained boots following them come to a halt behind a pillar at an angle that conceals them from sight. Quite a clever spot to conduct private affairs since not many souls come to the cloister during winter, even when the weather turns into its rare gorgeous shape, and there is no echo unintentionally carrying on a conversation.

Although familiar with the place, it still remains a curious location for the supposed showing of the mistake that has nothing to do with religion. ‘What are we doing here?’

The personified shackle around the wrist loosens a bit to adjust the hold and guide it down to where free fingers skillfully have undone the zipper and button to the black office slacks, forcing it down the fabric of the same-toned cotton of Calvin Klein boxers. A soft whimper rolls out on a breath when the palm makes contact with the same source of heat that was sinfully pressed against the behind this very morning, the hardened skin incredibly warm and seemingly reacting to the touch. ‘Here. Feel how much I want you. No man is good enough for you so you really upset me by trying it with Changkyun, giving him more hope to make you his.’ A low grunt resounds in the silence when hips roll softly into the independent exploring of the nether region, perversely fascinated by this new type of touch. ‘That’s right, baby. I’m what you need. At last, you’re listening.’

Invisible marbling veins sketch a mental picture of the landscape that makes thighs clench together in as inconspicuous a manner as is possible under the controlling gaze, a vague satisfied grin appearing on the edge of vision while continuing with making discoveries. Teeth bite down on the bottom lip, happy to please the wolf while also hopefully wondering how it would affect the mind and body further if the gesture goes far beyond the point it is now. A barely audible whine begs for it to happen, failing in properly formulating a coherent wording of the wish. ‘Namjoon, you- it’s-’

‘You want it, don’t you? Have my big cock inside, filling that tight pussy up so nicely as I’m fucking you into the mattress.’ Low dangerous chuckling occurs at the sight of the eager instinctive nodding of a soul pulled further into the tempting Hell that has been tried to get away from many times over. However, this time, it is glad to stay. Craving the rule of its ruthless poet and serving in name of his pleasure, wrong as it is. A delighted gasp escapes at feeling another twitch, a sign of rightfully serving Immorality despite a lack of experience. ‘Here I was, about to go home and breed you until cum is leaking out of you, every thought going immediately to me afterwards and yet needing another good pounding despite not being able to walk.’

Two fingers push the chin upwards, the flash of direct sunlight blinding and thus making eyes tear when gazes compellingly meet. ‘I’d make you scream my name, cry out like a slut craving to be bred over and over again. But since you like it so much to go against me, I’ll first have to teach you how to talk properly.’ The same thoughtful gentle thumb traces over the trembling lower lip of the insensible prey, knowing exactly how to pull its strings, before forcefully grabbing the jaw. ‘Get on your knees, brat.’

Quick and as invisible as the wind blowing through the historic stone framework, two firm caramel amber-scented hands move position to narrow shoulders and push them down with a strength that cannot be resisted, thus having no other choice but to give in. Not that the command would have been disregarded since the surrender is with content till a certain degree, finding mischievous amusement in driving Namjoon to savagery by resisting.

Henceforth, the limits are pushed a little more even though it is hard to persist when seeing the actual manifestation of the physical fantasy constructed by nimble fingertips and the shiny obviously agitated with wanting sensitive skin makes contact with the lips.

‘Open your mouth.’ Calmly, the sonorously spoken mandate comes out as a request instead of the command it truly is, clearly anticipating obedience.

Withal, stubbornly holding on in determination, a challenging glint dares the mighty poet to try the means formerly left untouched, hoping to feel those slender fingers grab the chin again like just a second ago. Be utterly under the influence of an awe-inspiring force once more, listening to the sole love that has been craved all this time and can now finally be had.

It does not matter if there shall only be roughness because Joon ultimately means well, knows what is best for the chaotic English student who has been taken care of all this time without her awareness of it. Henceforth, there is one thing now that cannot be denied any longer, clear as day floating around in the Conscious and endlessly annoying Sense with its charming truth.

I belong to him.

I am his.

The artificial kindness has vanished, baritone voice lowered to as threatening a tone as Gretel took on the moment the creature of the night had to face Beowulf. ‘Open. Your. Mouth.’

At once more blatantly ignoring the order, digits do indeed, precisely as expected, mould around the jawbone in a brutal hurtful grip. The exertion of control brings a perverse devilish grin to a restricted mouth, which is obviously not appreciated as the pain towards the cheeks lightens with the focus of the grip shifting towards the chin. ‘Fine, have it your way.’

With a motion depleted of the characteristic gentleness of the disguise of the wise bear, lips are wrenched apart and wrongly judged - too confident in the personal capabilities of being able to handle it - wanton longing mercilessly shoved in. In an instant the comfortable rhythm of breathing is cut off, lungs fighting for oxygen yet denied it by the pushing hand cloaked in silky dirty blonde locks on the back of the head. A blind panic starts inside, fingers searching for a grip on the onyx trousers to make the distress known but finding no answer when they do.

What formerly seemed a sensually amusing idea has now turned into a grave mistake.

Instead of paying attention to the desperate ministrations on the expensive fabric below, the harsh oppression turns in a deceivingly sweet version of itself as Namjoon holds the face against the soft warm surface of the stomach, the scent of amber musk both a comforting intoxication while also a means of suffocation. Even the coarse baritone timbre in speech transforms, gaining an absurdly cordial tone while cooing praises that do nothing in the way of affecting the regret about not having thought of an escape instead of following a pied piper up to this point. ‘That’s a good girl. Fuck, look at you, all tearful and my throbbing cock in your mouth. So beautiful.’

The head is kept in place after slightly moving it away from the heat radiating underneath the crimson shirt, thus establishing enough distance to be able to look each other in the eye, the puppet master in full control of the ragdoll’s strings. A sharp snap of the hips forwards triggers a strong gag reflex, distressed whimpers begging for mercy. Unfortunately, like the former signs of discomfort, they are brushed off in favour of pleasure in control. ‘I don’t care if I’m too rough. You upset me, baby, and you know very well why. So quit whining because this is nothing but your own doing.’ A trail of saliva already dribbles down the side of the face, the see-through liquid glistening in the bright rays of light intricately filtered by the historical setting as it also slightly drips onto the ink-black turtleneck from the chin. Namjoon picks up on it, a sliver of a smug grin distorting the ugly snarl formed by gritted teeth. ‘Drooling, are we? Do you want more, Y/N?’

Rendered utterly helpless with the ability to speak impaired, high pitched squeaks directed upwards resembling the statement “please, stop” vaguely reply to the wrong assumption. Undeniably, there is Love for this man accompanied by the desire to be owned by the two-faced bear, continuously be in the dark poet’s company whenever possible. Yet, the realization of what effects poor judgement might have on estimation comes too late because this is what Sense has been internally rampaging about.

The type of treatment is as wrong as the formerly present willingness, the lingering craving to be with a stepbrother.

More than that even.

It is sickening.

This is rape. But, what if this is the only way, in this animalistic manner, that he can show he loves me? What if I’m indeed mistaken?

The thought goes paired with the nagging reminder that the current situation is precisely what has been wanted, been dreamt about so many times. Furthermore, the meaningful gifts containing tiny hints of Personality and care taken of an unaware girl in the relationship all this time are forms which signify knowledge about holding an individual dear.

Taking the evidence into account alongside the lonesome past, the countless travels during which it had been solely Joon that could have filled up the desperately ignored gap, I know nothing.

But what forms not yet a part of Wisdom can be learned by books.

Or a teacher.

With tears streaming down the cheeks and after trying to swallow, to no avail, a weak nod agrees to the presumption earlier thought of as incorrect.

As if having read the underlying motive for the change in attitude, the asked question is truly a confirmation in nature. ‘You’re gonna stop struggling?’

Inducing self-made blindness to focus on making the ruthless lover proud by obeying substitutes as a sufficient answer. Though not able to see it, the overtaking satisfied attitude must undoubtedly be visible in expression which, in turn, lifts the spirits of the newly discovered persona on the cold stone floor a wee bit upwards into a better atmosphere. Especially at hearing the secretly coveted compliment that indicates behaving in a manner which is liked, the sickest part within willing to dance to the puppet master’s strings. Anything to not lose him and have a chance at exploring a novel sort of bond. ‘Good girl.’

There is no chance to exert any type of independent movement nor power while serving in a manner that goes against every moral the Self stood for, the sole ones being leaning into the firm hurtful grip on ashen locks while trying not to suffocate or give into the gagging likely to end in actually throwing up. The discomfort is lessened a bit by the commendations uttered under delighted muffled grunts and insults which strangely cause a pleasurable tightening knot in the stomach, the affirmations of doing it right.

Be the privileged venerated maid adapted to personal taste who makes the grey-haired wolf proud.

Be his.

Only his.

‘You- You don’t have su- such a big mouth now, do you? Shit,’ for the duration of a few fast advances there is no continuation of the sentence, merely teeth worrying a macaroon-toned full bottom lip, ‘I bet your pussy feels even better. Warm, slick, tight, so fu- fucking tight. Needing cum, wanting me to- to put my child inside you.’ Like before, the face is pulled into the velvet material of the scarlet shirt, resting against the cushiony part of the stomach, as the speeds accelerates to an almost inhuman pace while thrusts grow shorter and more erratic. ‘Have your belly swell up, tits full and round just like when you’re on your period. Fuck, they look so good then. Probably so sensitive. I jerked off so many times to you when you look like that, wanting to fuck you right as it’s over, making you pregnant.’

A strong pull on blonde-silver hair compels a locking of gazes, allowing to see the fever burning bright above labouring crimson. A mirror of the roiling heat currently discombobulating every thought with the notion of being wanted to a degree which exceeds the expectation, serving the will to endure the roughhousing. ‘Wou- Would you like that, me breeding you? Shit, I won’t even give you a choice. No condom- yeah, that’s it, brat, keep sucking- no birth control.’ The last thing before being reintroduced to the former scarlet forced resting place, is the smile imagined to be unerasable when indeed becoming a father. However, the chosen partner, in spite of the mutual affection, is not ready to partake in that altering of independent life, too young to have considered it let alone prepared to leave behind the perks of being unbound. Moreover, it is a foreign future existing in a dream.

Not for us to reach towards.

There is a prospect which is likelier to be achieved if parents cut the knot and tie it again with rings.

Separation.

Until then, there is merely kalopsia.

Our opium.

‘No lube- ngh, keep licking the tip. Yeah, that’s a good slut. Oh God, you’d love being bred like that. Fucked open by this thi- thick bare cock from behind, small fragile form shivering. Maybe even wear a- a cute tail plug. Oh, fuck, yes, you’d look perfect.’ Fingers cloaked in ash tangibly cramp up, breaths sharper now that Sanity literally hangs on by a thread. A second one grown corrupted due to its influence joins it, trembling with the vivid images painted by blunt words, wishing it could be real - aside from the risk of accidentally giving life to a bairn - and expressing this through approving sounds. ‘Yeah, you want that? Want me to pump my kids in- into you- like... that!’

Sticky saltiness covers the roof of the mouth, flowing partially down the throat while some of it is drifting off on strings of saliva when the physical binding in made almost entirely undone and completely so after the last spurt.

Namjoon is the first to return fully to Reality, regaining the grave seriousness after restoring composure during a brief repose to come down from floating in a realm somewhere between worlds as the other party is mostly recovering from the lack of air. ‘Show me you can talk properly now.’

All of the sinful fluid is collected in a small pool in the front of the oral cavity to display it to the breathless yet demanding poet, happy to see a proud grin appear at the sight of the evidence of stormy pleasure, tongue running suggestively in an imprecise promise of sensuality in the nearby future if this attitude is kept up. It makes the effect of the unplanned, or mayhaps planned, punishment of being left undone not minded as much as it should have. Regardless, it remains a fair repayment for the opposing behaviour displayed earlier.

Low chuckling, genuinely entertained in a sort of innocent fashion, resonates in the empty hallway at pulling a sour face when swallowing the incredibly briny liquid. The pleasant sound - that is heard almost on a daily basis yet shall never be boring - is quick to fade when lips meet to taste the aftermath of the desecration of the holy grounds of the sanctum, mine making sure the traces are noticeable to an even bigger delight of the man reverted to the bear who has been come to know the past two years, the heartless demon inside retreating for the moment.