#bts lemon

The scraunch of grass under his feet surrenders to the steady song of your heart while he carries you, your smaller form tucked snugly against his chest while you sleep peacefully in his arms. 

Slumber had welcomed you happily after you’d lost so much blood to the beast of greed that lived inside him, and as his still human body moves on instinct through the night with the moon as his witness, that beast only clutches closer at the covetousness of his savior–of this mortal goddess– who had come to save him.

Many still had been milling about when he’d departed with her from the bathhouse, the interested eyes and ears of alphas and omegas alike all trying to confirm the undeniable truth of his choice in you and yours in him. 

That he had been awake and of the conscious world astounded them enough as he’d walked through them, their widened eyes and gasps enough to indicate that. The irrefutable proof of your maturing bond was present in the serene, calm expression that the beautiful creature held against him had amidst the two new reddened, raised punctures he’d left on her wrist that fell gracefully by his side while he, who should have been without operation of one arm and restricted to a bed, was well and amble.

Namjoon had been there, Yoongi’s dried blood still dirtying hands and arms, but his loyalty to his alpha–his friend– mattered more than any odorous stench that Yoongi the deceiver could concoct. 

He’d shared one look with Namjoon, and it was one that needed no words between it. There had been a silent nod from his second-in-command, a lowering of his chin out of respect for his strength in combat before his fist had come upon his left breast in a sign of acceptance and recognition for the choice his Pack Alpha had made in his chosen mate, and the action had brought with it the parroting of all males–all alphas–who had been in the audience. 

Not one male failed to mimic the action, the Pack Alpha’s absence of injuries and state of near death that he had administered to his enemies all that they needed to recall. 

Seokjin, a taller male who just managed to reach Namjoon’s high height, had been standing dutifully by the other male’s side, the reaction of his mate one echoed in sentiment as he’d crossed each of his hands over each other between both breasts and bowed, the gesture one of approval and approbation of she who would become highest in rank and power over all omegas; of she who would lead them and guide the Omegean dynamic–of she who would become the Pack Omega. 

Niva, a long-time companion of yours who was a rather short woman, had mirrored the motion with tears in her eyes out of the happiness she felt for the female that the Pack Alpha held with such affection lighting the golden discs of his own as he stared warmly at her, not a fractal of the cold from before when he’d been in the ring with the males who tried to win her from him. 

Deference to them both had had each wolf stepping aside like parting ferns as the Pack Alpha had stepped between them, the dense cluster of all wolves in the compound bending to their knee as he passed. 

No one had asked where he was going. Such was common knowledge– the only thing left now was to seal the bond between two fated souls and fulfill the vow he had made to you in the remnants of their shared blood that had been left clinging to your flesh.

In the present, he proceeds with purpose through the forest, your soft breaths coaxing him toward his destination amidst the symphony of crickets chirping in celebration and owls calling excitedly to each other while the flowers and fallen leaves offer their embrace in support to his ankles as he steps through them.

It is impossible not to let the music of nature return him to when he’d first heard it years ago, when he’d first stepped foot in the greenery of the woodland.

He had been in a much smaller body, his paws much tinier while he’d been running through the forest, his father’s stern, unamused shouts lost to him while the colors of the earth ran past him in streaks of brown, black, and green.

There had been a wonderful, pleasurable burn in his lungs while he’d pushed his haunches to keep going, to dash to freedom from the asphyxiating restrictions of training for responsibilities he had no concept of yet, the wind racing through his fur and whistling through his ears while his claws upended the soil in clouds of dark plumes as they raked through it. 

He’d not known where he was going–only that he was chasing something he could never reach, no matter how hard he tried. 

Inevitably, his little furry body could only handle so much, and upon slowing to a stop in the middle of a clearing that held its own town of daffodils, lilies, roses, wisteria, gardenia, marigold, and tulips, each swaying with the wind he’d brought with him. The myriad of colors had been pleasing to his eye, and when he’d let their vibrant scents blossom under his nose, their coalescence had been an aroma sweeter than the finest sugar. 

But then…then he’d heard a voice, a voice that was daintier than any flower. A voice that harvested something in him he’d not known a name for yet. 

Curiosity had carried him toward the origin of that voice, his wolf refusing to ignore the soft melody as it sang a nursery tale of two lost souls helplessly drawn to each other no matter how many times the earth tried to tear them apart. 

“Alone he ran, alone he remained, seeking that which was forbidden-”

He had been quiet as a mouse while he neared the curtain of vines and climbing plants that had grown along the expanse of the rocky wall toward the forest’s edge, the voice that reached for him behind it too pretty to resist. He’d never ventured here thinking there couldn’t possibly be anything behind it. And yet…

“Forbidden it was, he longed for respite from the rivalries and revelries that were but a curse of his kin-”

His paws drew him forward, the clink of his claws against the rock drowned by the spring ahead of him, the crystalline water that streamed over the larger slabs of rock each stacked around each other enough to silence it to the female who stood on two hairless legs with her back to him in the watery pool ahead of them that was deep enough to cover her to the waist. On the other side of the rocks there fell clear water from one pool to another, a smaller pond sat surrounded by smaller stones of colors he had no names for in their darker and lighter hues. 

“Onward he journeyed toward the unknown who took a form fascinating to him, a form of long, flowing hair and kind, gentle orbs for eyes that the moon sculpted after herself in their color. For the moon had longed for many years to bring forth a child of flesh and blood as she grew lonely in the dark skies after mother nature had birthed her own child of hair and blood -”

Like invisible force had been urging him on, he continued, helpless to the pull that began from his heart and tugged him toward this fair creature who wore but a frock that was a halo of gilded white, silver, and gold around her in its long length and trailing sleeves that left a high neckline across her front and back. 

She floated there, in the middle of the water, as she moved with a grace no ordinary child could ever hope to have with a tune only she could hear. Transfixed, he could not force himself to look away if he tried. He had to know who this goddess with a voice light as the stars was. 

“She wept, and she wept, and she wept in her solitude, and from those tears that fell to the earth, she molded her daughter from mist, cloud, stars, and her light. From the earth there came her offspring who was molded into a girl with all of the knowledge poured into her from her mother, her body no younger than eight winters, but no older than ten-”

Something deep in his chest had begun to pound at that sight, and when the young girl before him turned toward him in a sweep of her arms through the air, that had been when he’d been unable to move any longer, amazement forcing the oxygen from his lungs as he’d beheld her. 

Her beautiful hair, which flowed with the wind that breezed through it, had been bound only by the gardenias that had been strewn down its wisps framing a face that was unlike anything he’d ever gazed upon before. Her cheekbones were high, nose straighter than a line yet cuter than any button, her lips pink as any chrysanthemum. And her eyes? They were closed while she was lost to the words she spoke.

“With no one but herself in the world, the moon’s daughter cried and wept, her own loneliness a curse even her own mother could not make her forget from so high a place in the sky’s throne. The earth took pity on the young girl of flesh and bone, so it sent her its son, who was of the same time on land. The two, recognizing kindred spirits in one another, were inseparable-”

As if his limbs had been captured by whatever had begun to wind him around this goddess’s hand, his haunches lowered so he sat on the rock by the creek, his shadow reaching toward the girl in the water before him. 

“The earth’s son and moon’s daughter spent many moons together, their hearts irrevocably becoming entwined in the other’s, and upon their eighteenth winter together, the earth became jealous of her son, wishing with her entire being that she could reach her lover that the clouds kept imprisoned within them yet never being able to except for when the skies cried, releasing him so he could be with his lover.”

The birds had stopped chirping as she’d turned her face down toward her feet, the darkness claiming her features so he could no longer admire them while sadness clogged her throat and watered tears from the corner of her eyes that remained closed to him.

Though he had heard the tale uttered from many mothers before, somehow, when this creature before him chanted it, it struck the chords of something he would not know a name for for many years after. He’d never really listened nor cared for it before. Not until now. Not until this female who breathed every syllable with emotion that none had mustered before. 

“The earth became vengeful watching her son love the woman that he took for his one and only love, so she trapped him, just as her own lover had been, deep within the confines of rock and soil. The daughter of the moon, just like her mother, wept, wept, and wept for the other half of her heart that she had given to her lover, and the moon, out of love for her daughter, begged the skies to release to the earth her beloved.”

The goddess in white had raised her hands toward the large orb in the sky almost as if to welcome its pain. 

Why he had felt a need to rid her of it before it could reach her, he didn’t know. All that he did know was that the very thought of her receiving any harm, of something swallowing away her radiance, was unbearable, his chest panging at the idea of her light being snuffed out. Watching and listening to her…it was like stepping into a sea of warmth and luminescence, the darkness of everything else falling away into nothingness. 

“Disgusted at the earth’s selfishness, the sky refused, but the moon begged, the sad tears and pained wails of her daughter over her lover’s absence making her mother sad and doleful. Her daughter’s siblings in the sky grew dim in their own pity for their sister, and too did their mother. The tides began to become restless, the seasons did not obey their call, and darkness began to eat away at the mother of the daughter who roamed restlessly, longingly, and devotedly in her search for her other half.” 

Like the tide, the girl let her body sway with the water’s ripples as she spun around on her heels thrice, each rotation bringing her closer to him and yet, not close enough. 

“Unable to cage the chaos that had taken hold of her body, the earth asked the moon to share her light with the world once more, but she could not. Not until her daughter’s lover had been returned to her. The skies, seeing that the world would soon turn to ruin, decided to offer a bargain: The earth’s beloved would be granted to her only during the rain showers of the skies tears that the moon would permit, and in return, the earth would relinquish her son to one who truly cared for him.” 

The deity in front of him, unseeing of the world around him and now at the water’s edge, let her hands fall back to her sides until the cloth of her trailing, billowing sleeves covered them from sight once more. The darkness had receded to only one side of her face, the other receiving the tender light of the moon. 

The wind blew gently around them, his scent continually swept away by it so that he could remain undetected by her even in this close vicinity. 

“The earth accepted, but not before the daughter of the moon had collapsed from exhaustion on the ground before the cave that mother nature, the earth, had trapped the one she’d been searching for in. The daughter of the moon’s body had grown weak, the life inside it that they had made together stealing what little of her energy remained.” 

His heart now hammering in his chest at her closeness, he could only hold his breath as he watched her, mesmerized by the ethereal glow that seemed to shine underneath her rosy cheeks.  

“The earth’s son revoked his mother upon seeing the shaking shell of his lover, and on his back he carried her to the highest mountain before the widest plane where even the clouds shielded him from his mother’s vengeful eyes. There, the moon and sun fashioned a healing tonic flowing from the sun’s rays themselves, and with it, the son of the earth nursed his love back to health, their child soon born days later.”

As if the goddess before him could sense him, she delicately fell to her knees, hands folding in her lap as her chin rose toward the sky with eyes that still did not see nature before her. Had it not been for the cascading water from the little waterfall behind her, there is no way she would have missed the thundering whims of the muscle nestled under his ribs.

“The earth was resentful, and so she too became pregnant with more like her son when her lover was released to her through the rain. To her three sons came, each growing faster with the meats she fed them, and it was not long before they were sent to end the life of her first-born, each of them deformed by their hatred with a mind bent on revenge and wishing to rid their brother of his son and take what he held dearest–his beloved bride– for themselves. None were successful, but the largest of these monsters, after 10,001 nights, nearly was.” 

 She had paused, a silver streak of wetness falling down her cheek. An irrational desire to wipe it away had been quick to take him, his paw reaching out toward her. That tear did not belong here. Before he could make it there, the female who had sat on her knees only inches from him used her sleeve to clear it away, yet the redness around her eyes lingered as more tears fell and her chant descended in its lovely pitch almost as if life itself had been fading away from her. 

“His brothers had wounded him, scarred him, hurt him in their many battles of blood, but the second eldest had been cunning. He’d waited until the female who had mated the eldest had gone into heat, her vulnerable state easy to trick her in when he’d covered himself in the blood of her mate. It had been easy to capture her and secure her to the nearest boulder at the cliff’s edge while he’d waited for her mate to return, and upon seeing her wrists and feet bound and their only son dead at her feet while the young pup’s lifeless heart was in the maw of his brother, he’d seen red, the thunder piercing air while rain had pelted them hard as lightning flashed.” 

Each word had stirred a hole inside him that could not be filled except with the mellifluous sound of her voice, its mournful melody making him lower his own head in how heavy it suddenly felt. Her own hands had since opened and turned upward, palms facing upward as if to beseech something–anything– to comfort her. Again his paw had moved of its own accord, pads of them just a hair’s length above hers. 

“Taking advantage of his brother’s anger, the second-eldest had almost managed to rip his brother’s head from his shoulders–if not for the moon’s daughter, who had seen through the second-eldest’s plans and warned him before it was too late. As a strike of lightning that had arced across the sky, the first son of the earth blinded the second-eldest with his claws before tearing his jawbone off of him and sending him howling off of the cliff to his death. This was not before he himself had been fatally injured, his brother’s teeth sinking deep into his nape and skull. Just enough strength he had had to loose the bindings on his lover before collapsing on the ground next to their lifeless son, his life draining away from him with the river of blood he lost.”

The female in white paused, shaking her head as if trying to will the image of it away, and her brows had reached toward each other as if to seek comfort while her small fingers had curled in on themselves. Still he holds his paw above hers, fearing that if he touches her, the trance will be broken. That this moment of respite he had found in this alluring creature that unknowingly welcomed him as her listener will come to an abrupt end. 

When she had spoken again, there, in the back of each word, had been the inklings of hope, of the same brilliance she seemed to shine with under each of those long lashes of hers. 

“The moon and sun, having observed the wicked earth from above, took pity on the sky-shattering screams of the lone female that had been left behind, her beloved’s dying breath that he wished he could have held her in his arms one more time while he told her that his love for her would never die. The moon and sun took pity on the two, reshaping and reforming their bodies yet housing their souls in them just the same, bestowing upon the lone female a gift– the gift to heal and restore with the same lips that had drank the life-giving tonic her beloved had fed to her through his kiss.” 

Somehow, the tale had elicited images–remnants of another time– that he’d never thought about before. It was like uncovering something long buried, but it was fleeting. Gone before he could really process it as it buried itself again in the dirt of memory he would not recall for many years later. And in the face of her staggering divine beauty that no other girl her age should have possessed, it was easy to forget. 

“The two found themselves together in each other’s arms in bodies that were of human craft, the ability to shift from their previous lupine,werewolf self to that of a human bestowed to them by the mercy of the gods above who soon created their likenesses, in different forms, sizes, and shapes, and populated the earth with them. Mother Nature corrupted some, but not all, and those that were not corrupted followed the first-born son of earth and the daughter of the moon, who mourned the loss of their son every moon until they were blessed with another, many moons later.” 

Their shadows, now one, had melded together while she had sung the words as if they were a blessing. She had been at peace in the finality of the tale, her brows releasing from the tense position they’d been in, and where her lips had thinned where she had pulled them together, they had parted in their fullness, a strange impulse to touch where she had spoken so charmingly from fixing itself in him.

“Such is the tale of the Lupine Antiquis, the first of our kind. They were each other's heart and soul–fated by the moon and sun– by our gods above. May their tale always bring light in the darkness of lone wanderers in the night.”

Such ethereal sounds departed her lips that she breathed such life into, and he’d been so sure he had been enchanted by them, by her, his paw summoned by them to hers in the urge to dispel her own loneliness that loomed behind her like a penumbra even through all the luminousness of the moon’s silvery streams around them from the moon above. 

The moment they’d touched, her eyes had opened, a look of surprise slowly transforming her once serene, relaxed features while he stared, drawn hopelessly to the glimmering, shining rings of silver that orbited her orbs for eyes. They were brilliant–she was brilliant– and instantly he had felt gravity somewhere in his chest shift, something flipping and turning upside down while he’d continued to gape, pulled immediately into the infinite space of compassion and curiosity that coursed through each of her eyes. 

“Who…who are you? How did you find me?” She had asked the words so entreatingly, no inkling of fear in them. Even her questions compelled him to answer, for the young wolf deep inside him wanted her to hear him, to see him, to know him. 

It had been that creature inside him that had made his bones move and change him from waist to head, his black fur falling away from him hair by hair while the young maiden’s eyes had widened larger than any planetary system. 

“My name,” he had found himself answering honestly, “is Jungkook. I was wandering through the forest. I heard you singing.” 

For no one else had he ever spoken so openly. There were few with whom his father would allow him to talk to, but this female… he felt like the walls he’d been taught to put up crumbled to mere specks under the endless expanse of her gentle gaze. 

“You are,”  she started in astonishment, “a boy. I’ve never met a boy before.” 

Where his black paw had been resting over her upturned hands in her lap, there had since morphed from it a human hand, his baser being wanting–needing– a connection that he could not explain.

“Is that because you are a goddess sent from the stars?” The question had come out before his mind had even caught up with his lips, and the most ariose music of laughter that he’d ever heard had been performed for him by the female whose eyes had shone brighter than any light above them.

“I am mortal, Jungkook of the Forest. Why do you ask me this?” There was a soft rhythm even in her small movements, each of the pads of her fingertips tapping at his as if to tune her understanding of him into her mind. 

There had been no hesitance in his answer, the song of her word and instrument of her beauty easily moving him.

“No siren nor angel has a voice like yours. No witch could harness the moon and shower themselves in its dust and light as you shine with its favor.” He had let her experimentally turn his hand over in her lap, both of her hands taking his between them and holding him there while he let his tongue loose the thoughts that made his heart race like an imp under his ribs at her touch that felt so impossibly right when he knew it shouldn’t have. “You sing of lone wanderers and finding someone that will end the torment of that inescapable loneliness when you are alone here–under the moon–in the middle of night. Like a fallen goddess.”

She had gone still under the staggering admissions of the boy from the wood, for he had seen in seconds what no other had. 

That she was lonely. That she was searching for the end of that horrid, cold hell. 

And the hand she held between hers? Not even the sun could burn that away, but his…it did. Somehow, holding him was like touching the purest of summer rays. It was… it was wonderful. 

Perhaps that was why her own answer had spilled from her mouth to his eager ears. “No one that knows my name calls me by that term, Jungkook of the Wood. But you have earned a favor because of your perceptive eyes that have seen more to me than even those who birthed me are willing to acknowledge. Name it, and it will be yours.”

Greed had not been a concept known to him yet. But when he looked at her, its wings had unfurled, the promise of more making his hopes high and a selfish need soar. 

He had to see her again. Had to hear her sweet voice again. Had to have her nearby and around him again. 

In his mind, the subtle, dainty movements of a dance she’d done for the silver disk hanging above them had played, the shadings of his desire forming. 

“I would ask that you grant my wish to meet here, in this creek, when the moon is full just as it is now.” 

A smile had bounded across her lips, and she’d giggled to herself at his rather demanding request,“You are a strange boy to ask for my presence alone. Still,” she closed her eyes, cupping his hand in both of her own before bringing it against her chest where her heart kept trying to leap toward him. ”Let this be my promise to you, then, Jungkook of the Wood. We shall meet here, with the moon as our witness, when she is full on a night like this one. Allow me to sing for you to seal this vow.”

As if the atmosphere itself wanted to be her orchestra, the wind shook the branches and leaves, their chimes the perfect backdrop for the springing water behind and around them as she chanted to the gods in bits and pieces of a language not yet mastered, yet one that had been largely lost to time’s hand. 

He had not understood a word of it, but somehow, her euphonious crescendos and trills that carried through the air like a feather had been enough to lull him into a most peaceful sleep after they’d both lain down beside each other along the soft bed of grass by the creek. 

Dreams of her frolicking through a field of wheat with him tailing behind her while she’d had an angelic, carefree smile on her face were all that found him that night. And many, many after. 

When he’d woken, the goddess he had been sure he’d met had disappeared, the only trace of her left behind in his hand being two gardenias that looked as if they’d been frozen in time at the pinnacle of their bloom. 

Just as she had promised, she had found him in their meeting place under the mother of the stars when she became full. The female’s luminous laughter joined with his on those nights when he made it his mission to show her the joys of childhood that adults could never understand. 

From the games of tag to making dandelions fly, their exploits were as infinite as the sky above, and inevitably, the sun would steal away the night–and her– from him when she would sing him to sleep with her dulcet songs while she stroked his hair from where his head had rested atop her lap from where she sat by the creek after they’d exchanged stories only innocence could conjure. 

Each meeting brought them closer, an unexplainable union forging between two souls so alone yet so yearning for a companion that they were soon not willing to be apart from each other without their dreams interfering. 

Years passed, but one cold, dark winter night, she did not appear to him again. 

Devastation had stolen his joy from him, and for many moons he visited that creek, hoping that he would encounter his goddess once again. 

 When it became clear to him that his son had been afflicted by a sickness of the heart, his father had forced him out of the forest and down to the milling compound of wood and wolves like him for a supply drop at the forge that his father alone manned and trained him the arts of metal, crafting, and woodworking in. He hadn’t wanted to go, the little muscle in his chest aching and hurting as if stuck with thousands of needles in the absence of the goddess-turned-muse that he’d found in the wood. 

He’d hardly been there a minute before he’d meandered from his father’s side, his nose catching a whiff of a pleasant, heavenly scent he had come to have a liking for where everything else was wretched and disgusting. 

There, laying in the middle of a flowery field with an aged leather tome far too big for her hands, sat the figure of the only girl who could harness his attention to her. He’d called out to her instantly, but when she turned to him, the eyes that once looked at him like he was something so special had changed to ones of unfamiliarity. She’d cocked her head curiously at him, her usual light there in her orbs, but it was as if the lack of recognition refracted the usual rays of it that reflected her warmth straight to his core. 

It had not taken his father long to pull him away from her, the young girl’s own mother dragging her away from him in a flourish of silks. 

When her mother had informed the young girl’s father of Jungkook’s interest in her, the door to his home in the woods had been shattered to splinters by that father. 

He had answered the older man’s call, a rigidness to the lines stiffening the older man’s face when he admonished Jungkook for coming too close to his precious daughter knowing that, as Jungkook was a pureblood, his urges and impulses would be much more uncontrollable, dangerous, and powerful. 

That Jungkook’s father had bested this man in combat and taken from him the rank of Pack Alpha had only founded a dislike and disapproval of him even deeper. 

Jungkook had not felt an ounce of fear, the thought of you, his glimmering goddess of flesh and bone, bespeckling him in intent. Intent that refused to let itself be snuffed out. 

He had gone to his knee that night, bowing his head as a sign of respect when he’d told the young girl’s father about all that they’d done and promised under the moon, asking if there was a way her father would allow him to remain by her side even though she had forgotten him.

Her father had responded to his question with a challenge: injure him in combat, and he would accept Jungkook as his daughter’s silent protector and guardian in exchange for the chance to be near her, but absent from her everyday life until he could prove himself to be stronger than him. 

He’d accepted the challenge without a second thought, and though he still had not been full grown at the time, he’d known enough from training with his father, who had been the Pack Alpha before him, to leave a scar on the man’s arm when he’d foolishly rushed toward him thinking speed would be enough to best him when he was more agile than any wolf the pack had ever had. 

One thing he knew for certain had always been that the very thought of you brought music and color to an otherwise bland, dull world. 

And if you could not remember him, he would rebuild anew. As many times as it took, he would start if you were at the finish.

What began as childish selfishness soon became adolescent fixation, and as the years passed and he grew taller, stronger, and older, that fixation morphed to a quiet obsession for the female that he’d discovered was, like him, a werewolf. 

Her life, he had also discovered, had been one absent of the light and warmth she carried in her eyes.

For her whole life, she had been raised to be the Keeper of the Scrolls (one who attended to, studied, and taught all of the sacred knowledge and texts as well as enforced the traditions of the lupine antiquis) second only to being groomed to become the next Pack Omega, the highest ranked position an omega could hold, which was a position that afforded its bearer to preside over and have authority over all omegas in the pack.

She'd had to sacrifice her childhood for aged parchments and leather bindings of books older than her, the duty of nurturing and instructing the pack's litters of pups falling to her when the previous aged omega became too sick and frail to even leave her bed.

His lover's parents, thinking only of another shiny acumen to add to their perfect daughter that they hoped would attract the next Pack Alpha, had not given her a choice to take that role over. It had been a mandate.

And because her nose had always been buried in a book or scroll either in her chambers or in the archives, she had had very few to talk to. Those that did only did so out of the hopes that one day, she would grant them favors.

He knew this because he heard those insipid, manipulative  creatures spin their cruelties in their speech behind his beloved's back when they believed she was out of earshot.

He'd taken the liberty of handling them, making sure that any vile words spoken about his female were never spoken aloud again with threats of exposing their own dirty secrets that so easily slipped from their lips when he gave them even the slightest bit of attention. 

Such was easy when all of the females in the pack fancied him to the point that they would all but throw themselves at him when he took over the forge that his father had alone been running.

But sometimes, even he could not silence all of the toxic whispers of female jealousy. It was like a disease, and though he had done his best to cure it, there inevitably would be an outlier that slipped under his nose.

On those nights, his love wept alone in her chambers,  her face buried in the mound of pillows on her bed that could not satisfy the need for another's companionship in the bitter solidarity that her parents had caused with their suffocating projection of their own will over her own.

Those were the nights he wandered closer than he should have and left you notes on your windowsill, wishing with everything in his being that he could be by her side, that he could do more than just be your besotted guardian phantom.

Your mother had become sick with an incurable illness your thirteenth winter when she had ventured too far in the forest and been pricked by a nature spirit’s curse that made her see things that were not there, her mind twisted by apparitions that made her forget all but her mate–even her own daughter. Your father, too, had been afflicted by his feelings for her mother that all but consumed him, and when she’d fallen into a sleep that had stopped her organs in your fifteenth year, her soul had joined those of their ancestors. 

Unable to live without his mate, your father had gone, too, so that he could be reunited with his love in the after. 

In his final moments, he’d sent for Jungkook, and he’d damned Jungkook such that, for many moons after, he would wish he could be rid of that night from his mind.

The dying man, who held tight to the blade in his chest that he had put there, had revealed to him that he had traded your memories with Jungkook in exchange for a release from your mother’s torment. With his last shred of life he had ordered Jungkook to protect you from a distance until his daughter came of age–until you were ready to give yourself to the next Pack Alpha. 

You had not even been able to mourn them in peace, the duties your parents had bound unto you too tight to escape, and for three years you wore smiles during the day that never reached your eyes when the elders, like owls, had swooped down over you to caw at you to do more, more, more for the litters of pups you had to teach as the sole Schoolmistress, to be more firmer on the edicts and laws you were to enforce as Keeper of the Scrolls.

For years he had been your shadow and had kept to your father’s dying wish, and he had been content in simply being in your presence. Just seeing you had been enough to quiet the rampant thoughts that roamed his head when he closed them at night. 

But when the heavy weight of it all became too much for you, it was no longer enough for him to linger by your window.

It was why, when the firelight had died and you laid on your bed in a deep sleep, he entered your chambers from the window you’d left open and stoked that fire so that the cold of loneliness did not find you. For a long time, he'd just sit there, watching your beautiful expressions while you slept with the flames licking at his back.

How he had longed to embrace you, but doing so would leave his scent on you. So instead, he did the only thing he could do for you.

He sang for you. Sang the very song he'd first heard you sing in the creek when they had been but children. And when the creases between your eyes would disappear, peace falling over your expression, that's when he'd confess his feelings for you and pour his very heart out to your unknowing form while you whispered his name as if you heard him. As if to beckon him to your dreams. 

You’d had the cutest habit of rolling around and somehow twisting the sheets around your body in something akin to a cocoon. On the draftier nights that left a shoulder or leg exposed, he could sooner resist tucking you in than a leaf staying still when the wind blew. He’d kiss the space right next to where your hand was, the silky material of your bedding a poor excuse to the soft flesh of your hand or cheek. 

Your mouth had always been off limits to him, but there were nights that you called so sweetly for him, your mind begging you to remember what had been taken from you. 

Everytime he thought to wake you and tell you everything, it came just as soon as it retreated, the image of your father’s pallid form drenched in his own blood forcing itself upon him while he’d spurted the words of warning: 

“She must never be told her memories were taken. If you do, the dark spirit that hurt her mother will steal away whatever memories she has left and she will wake every day with no anamnesis of you. As the only pureblooded female directly descended from the Lupine Antiquis, she presents a threat to their power that they wish to destroy.  If you truly wish to be her shield, you will heed that, boy.”

He’d lost count of how many suns had risen with that warning pervading his mind like venom. Always looming over his head, he had never managed to cure himself of it. 

Relief only came when he watched her, from behind the cover of foliage, and she ran through the fields, her hair unbound and free, with a smile that did find its way all the way into her irises. It seemed to glow brighter than the candlelight she’d leave by her bedside when she read through the letters he’d leave on her windowsill. He swore that from her perch on her bed, those orbs were impossibly more luminous. 

That same luminescence stayed there only when she spoke to her grandmother or close friend, Niva, of her mysterious suitor from the paper left on her window. When she found him, inevitably, in their dreams that, for years, she had thought only to be a fabrication of her mind’s whims. 

He moves toward the same rocky wall, walking through the curtain of vines and greenery without pause toward his destination.

He’s careful as he parts the strands of nature’s green hair, not wanting it to touch you and disturb your rest. 

The rustling sound of the grass beneath his feet is quieted by the same flowing water that had greeted him when he was a child all of those years ago, the proud creek she’d made her refuge when home became asphyxiating from the demands of elders children that asked much of her. 

The water sparkles now like thousands of diamonds atop of it, the green of the grass surrounding the bank of the pool emeraldine in color before the rocks bordering the pool of water. Even the trees stand at attention, devoted to shielding them from the rest of the world with boughs that contained leaves of every color that rivaled the precious stones he had fashioned into jewelry for her.

So much had happened since he’d first stepped foot here. And though your memories of him from before had been stolen, you’d never forgotten this place. 

And neither had he. 

His feet continue on past that creek, past the long basin of water that flows toward the smaller crevices in the earth, the thick forest around opening up to a meadow of lilies, lilacs, and lavender, the soft breaths of his slumbering beloved easing him while he carries you in his arms toward the large house of wood and glass in the distance. 

You’d always loved the color purple, your hands lingering a little too long on fabric of the shade or flowers with petals of the hue as if you wished the entire world could be painted in it. 

Purple like area around his wound had been when he’d come across her in the forest one night so many years ago and when they’d rendezvoused under the moon.

Not wanting to disturb her while she sang, he’d forgotten about the prick lodged in one of them when he tried to back up, only for him to have made a sound of pain. 

It had been enough to make the human figure before him finally turn, familiar kindness in those eyes of hers dispelling the dark of his doubts and troubles. 

She’d noticed right away the source of his discomfort, offering her gentle hands to him without a second thought. 

He’d been taught his entire existence never to show weakness to anyone, but this creature–this goddess with a voice tuned and tailored by the gods– she had him quickly lain on his belly and his head on her lap within minutes, the melodies of feelings that could neither be seen nor understood streaming from her lips while she quickly, effortlessly, and painlessly pulled the thorn out before wrapping his injured paw in a bandage of leaves and moss. 

He wonders if, somewhere in there, she’d been holding on and grasping for those little reminders of their time together even if she could not recall them fully. Like trying to grab for hay that kept disappearing no matter how many times one tried to get to it.

Still he walks on to the place he had built for her—a home he had crafted with his own hands, each beam and stone chosen with care.

The cabin stood there like something from the dreams he’d shared with her, its dark gray stonework grounding it firmly to the earth, while the warm, golden hues of the wood siding seemed to beckon the fading sunlight, blending seamlessly with the natural beauty of the forest. A towering stone chimney rose from one side, smoke curling lazily into the sky.

But it was the windows that had taken him the longest to craft—the massive, sweeping wall of glass that spanned the entire second story. It framed the forest like a living painting, offering an uninterrupted view of the wild landscape beyond. The black frames around the windows gave the structure contrasted with the light brown of the main paneling composing the main frame of the house, while a glass-railed balcony stretched across the upper floor, inviting the master bedroom’s inhabitants to step out and drink in the vastness of the wilderness.

The soft glow of light spilling from the lower floor's windows added a warmth to the cabin, making it feel like a sanctuary tucked away in the forest's embrace. And the deck, broad and covered, stretched out beneath the overhang of the second story that was lined with the same bevy of vines from the curtain of it that veiled away her little creek. It offered a perfect space to sit and listen to the whisper of the trees in the wind that he knew she liked to hear. 

He treads board over the porch, the flickering flames that burn from their bronze sconces casting an inviting welcome upon the lower walls of stacked grey stone around them. 

He’d placed each stone by hand, fashioned every fixture and wood paneling, and been the sole architect and builder of this place from the ground up since he was a child.

All for her. 

And as he opens the double doors of glass, she is all he sees, his one hand tucking some of her fine hairs behind her ear. 

He looks not at the rugs of earthly colors he’d woven himself, nor the tables, chairs, or other pieces of furniture he’d built here, in this space, that decorate the main foyer that opens to the left to a grand kitchen, and to the right a spacious dining room. He doesn’t glance at the main den with its impressive stone chimney past the kitchen that, like the front of the house, has tall windows for walls that leave a grand view of the surrounding forest and valley beyond. 

In the back of that den are two doors opposite to each other on either side of the space–one a library full of books he’d spent years procuring from traders and adventuring merchants. 

And the other was a study complete with her writing desk, her writing utensils, her favorite velvet-lined lounge chair. 

All for her. 

He doesn’t spare a second of attention on any of that as he climbs the spiraling staircase around the chimney, the dark metal rail complementing the wood of the steps as he holds the greatest of his treasures in his arms while the candles he’d left lit in their bronze candelabras sitting on the end tables and countered nooks flitter about, his shadow and his beloved’s joining together behind them.

When he arrives at the top of the staircase, his footfalls are light over the floor in effort not to awaken his lover’s rest, her dark lashes fluttering minutely when he deposits her on the nest of white and black pelts blanketing the bed. Its four wooden posters hold a curtain of grey fabric that, in the moonlight, looks like it is speckled with moondust.

Still he lovingly gazes upon you as he sits beside you, his fingers tenderly carding their way through your hair as he whispers, “When you wake, my love, I will be waiting for you. Until then, rest. May your dreams be sweet and your slumber peaceful.”

He pulls the cord from around one post of the bed and then the other, not looking away from your beautiful form for a moment. It is because of this that he notices one of your hands, even while your eyes are still closed, reach toward him, his name tumbling from your lips when his weight disappears from next to you.  

That thing palpitating in his chest becomes fuller with the blood of his love for you at that, and he is quick to return to you after throwing another log into the stone fireplace built into one half-wall so that the chill of the night will not discomfort you even though the pillar candles he’d set into brass holders fan their warmth over to you.

When he lies beside you once more with the pelt he’d retrieved from the chest of birch wood at the foot of the bed, he gently covers you with it before slowly, tentatively guiding you toward him until your head rests on the pillow of his chest, a purring sound melting him when he hears it from your still figure. 

Still fast asleep, you rub your cheek into the solid plane of his pectoral, the pheromones of his that that wafts around comforting you as you lay one of your palms over his heart, its steady rhythm reaching for you even in dormancy.  

You nestle closer and closer until your front is somehow lain over his, your nose nudging up against his neck as you breathe in the black vanilla that only grew in the mountainside, the gardenia that you liked to grow in your garden, and pear that you liked to pick from the pear trees. It culminated into a heath of the scent of your love, his quiet breathing warming you more than any blanket could. 

When your purr is drawn down into a breath shaped around his name once more, your voice summons his mouth to your temple as he turns his head to leave a kiss there, strong arms wrapping around you to keep you close.

“I’m right here, my love. I always have, and I always will be.” He utters against your hairline, lips finding a spot at the top of your head to leave yet another of his kisses–this one softer than the last. 

With the love of his life secure in his embrace, he watches the way your lashes dance while you dream with unseeing eyes, wishing he could meet you in them. 

The sight of you so at peace makes his own lids grow heavy, and soon, he too is carried off into the realm of dreams. 

It is not until the wax of the candles on the bedside tables has begun to drip into the small bronze beds below them and the moon has risen to her throne in the night sky that the female in his arms is roused from her slumber. 

Your lids are still groggy with sleep as you blink at the view of your mate who lies beneath you, a serene expression tenderizing his features into one more youthful and absent of lines that mark the obstacles of maturity. 

Your wolf, now awake at the sight of your alpha, does not let you rest until you have satisfied the sudden need to touch him–to make sure this is real. 

That he’s real and finally, finally yours. 

So you sit up a little, using the hand you have on his chest to support you, the pads of your fingers on your other nimbly dragging across the area under one of his eyes. He doesn’t stir, and so you let your digits slide down the side of his cheek before they glide under his lower lip. 

His breaths are even as they billow against your finger when your thumb glides over the plush cushion of his lip, and when his eyes open to reveal those golden discs of the sun in them, it takes your breath away in how they are incandescent as the candlelight around him. 

“Good evening to you, too, my love,” his hand is there, wrapping itself around your wrist so he can bring your finger to his lips, both of them converging so he can present the proper attention to your digit as the pillows of both reach for you. “How are you feeling?”

Not even five seconds spent outside of sleep, and his first concern was you. 

The fact makes that emotion from before envelop you, and when you try to press yourself more against him, that’s when you realize you’ve been encased in furs around your lower half. You don’t remember those from before. The last thing you could recall was the bathhouse where you’d fallen into his arms from blood loss. 

As you ogle the bedroom around you, the air itself has been claimed completely by your alpha, his pleasing scent everywhere at once. 

Why was it getting hotter the longer that enticing aroma swirled under your nostrils? Why did it emanate your mate’s very name everywhere you looked?

The answer comes when your mate releases you from his hold, both arms bending under him so he can lean back on them while the muscles scaling his arms jump at the motion and a loud, sharp whine fills the chamber. 

Your skin feels clammy, but you know that the cold would be nipping at you if you were outside. 

You only realize you’re whimpering when one of his large hands settles on your hip and he croons, “It’s okay, my love. I brought you home. You can do whatever you wish here. This place is all for you.” 

Words seem insufficient now, but even if you could voice them, what comes out is: “Hot…I-I…I’m hot.”

“I know, my love. Your scent shifted as you slept.” He helps you kick off the blanket, for it fails to offer the warmth he did as you succumb to the insistent itch to be nearer, closer, nigher to him before you climb onto his lap while he lets you. 

“Why?” Your breath comes out short, like a pant, your dress suddenly feeling too heavy and constricting on your body. You try to pull at one of the sleeves, and when he watches that, the pink of his tongue slipping over his bottom lip, the answer becomes evident in the slick that rolls down your thigh onto the edge of his bare waist from where you straddle him. 

The hand he doesn’t hold you with curls into a fist in effort to control himself, his teeth biting into the flesh of his cheek as he tells you, “Your heat, my love. You are in heat.” 

The answer has your thighs closing themselves around him persistently, unwilling to let him go. As if your mind has been filled with water, it is difficult to breach for clear thought, your body acting for you even though your thoughts are leagues behind. 

It’s too hot here, under these heavy layers of your dress. You need to get out of it. 

“H-hot…alpha…please,” You whimper meekly, your fingers fumbling for the v-lined neckline of your gown in effort to get it off while your hips roll into his, the hardness your bare sex rubs against obvious in his want for you. 

His irises scintillate from where watches you above him, the hand he has on your hip squeezing strongly around you while the fingernails of his other leave crescents in the meat of his palm. By their nature, when an omega was in heat, they became vulnerable, losing most if not all of their rationale and reason over the impulse of their instincts. Instincts that demanded an omega to be bred by an alpha.

While your mind is clearly addled under the sweltering waves of heat, you can hardly say anything but the name of the only male your very soul yearned for. 

“Jungkook, n-need…w-want-”

Those are the words that he needs to hear, the nagging worry that had begun to set in expelled at the call of his name. An omega that was able to speak was one that was not too far gone into their urges such that they were unaware of their actions and incapable of deciding whether they wanted to be mounted or not by an alpha.

“I want to take care of you, my love. I want to help you so badly.” He sits up, his other hand sidling up your lower back, your spine, and finally along your nape where he cups the back of your neck so he can bring you to his waiting lips. “But you have to use your voice for me, my love. I need to make sure that it isn’t your heat that makes the choice for you. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

“Yes…a-alpha,” You let him affix his mouth to yours, the wet warmth of him making you moan into his mouth while you continue to tug at your neckline in how tight it has become. He makes no move to deepen the kiss, simply content to breathe in your air and feel you against him while your hips undulate against him.

There is no room for embarrassment when all you can think about is him. And he treats you as if you are a shy spirit that could run from him if your sudden boldness catches up to you.

You fight the eddies of your heat that make thoughts want to sink before they can make it to the surface of your mind, but his words and restraint had been the anchor that you needed to make it there for a momentary breach of lucidity. 

The mist of desire that had settled over your eyes clears when you open them for him, and there he sees the clarity of your decision that is unmistakable as the stars in the sky when you reach out for him through the invisible bond tying you together. 

I want this, alpha. Please, help me. I…I need you.

He dives into the depths of your eyes, plunging forth to unearth any unsurety in you. 

He finds none. 

His other hand scales up your side, fingers slipping under one of the thin straps of your gown that hides you from him. There they stay until you disconnect your lips from his, a string of saliva lengthening between you until it breaks. 

“Are you sure, my love?” He checks one more time, needing your assurance. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else, alpha,” you earnestly encourage, covering his hand with yours and coaxing one of strap over and down your shoulder. 

Slowly, the long train of your sleeve pools at your waist, one half of your chest now free from the prison of its fabric binding. 

His mouth waters at the exposed skin you have granted him the gift of seeing, the larger and calloused pads of his fingers tracing around your breast while you let out a sigh of satisfaction at the feeling. 

“You are so beautiful, my love. So, so beautiful.” He adulates while his fingers wander downwards toward your navel as your cheeks burn at the praise. Heat simmers under wherever he touches, and when the fabric of your bodice hinders him from going any lower, his digits ascend toward the other side of your chest. This time, you let your arm fall back toward your side, waiting patiently for him to unfetter your other breast from its confines. 

He tugs it down as if uncovering a prized jewel, your skin all but glittering in the moonlight and candlelight that convalesce against you. 

Little by little he undresses you atop of him, your hands falling over each of his shoulders when both of his arms wind around your back to untie and loosen the strings of your bodice one by one. You swallow his breaths like they are all the sustenance you could ever need, and he greedily sups yours when he doesn’t have his mouth latched to yours. 

When the last of the lacings are undone and your bodice and sleeves, like your skirts, lie in a heap around your waist, he pulls away and your breathless pants entice his eyes down where old blood, dried spit, and half-moon shapes made by his teeth mark you from navel to neck. 

He looks at you like you’re a goddess without wings, and that avid attention makes your heart take flight in your chest as he takes one of your breasts into his hand, holding you there while you make a sound of need that, to him, is a delicate song. 

“I had my fantasies of you, but nothing I could have ever tried to picture could ever have been as good as this.” He husks, his other hand cradling your other breast before each of his thumbs curve inward, the pads of them rubbing along that pink bud of your nipples. “Your tits are so fucking pretty. So fucking perfect in my hands. Just like the rest of you.” 

The stimulation makes a rush of arousal flood your body, your eyes misting over once again while you plunge back under the haze of your heat as you cry out for him, your hips, to their own tune, rutting into his in search of friction. When he squeezes, massaging and kneading his fingers into your tits, it only has your hips working harder against him while you moan for him.

He captures your mouth with his, flipping you both over after releasing your tits so he cushions your head with one of them and brace himself with his other, a smirk playing at his lips when you reach both arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him down toward your waiting lips. 

Era otro domingo de congregación como cualquier otro, T/n estaba sentada en una esquina del banco de la iglesia lo más cerca posible del atril que se elevaba imponente frente a todos, con los brazos cruzados y completamente desinteresada en lo que pasaba a su alrededor, toda su atención estaba cien por ciento enfocada en el Padre Seokjin. 

Siempre se negaba a participar mientras el Padre Seokjin dirigía la congregación a través de oraciones y anuncios. Su suave voz reverberaba a través de toda la habitación, cautivando a los asistentes del domingo por la mañana con sus palabras de adoración, predicando sobre la divinidad del amor y de Dios. 

Se podía ver fácilmente cuánto había tocado los corazones de los creyentes con sus palabras y actos bondadosos con solo mirar alrededor de la iglesia.

Sus ojos seguían cada movimiento del Padre Seokjin, suspirando cada vez que mostraba una sonrisa encantadora, riéndose cuando hacía una o dos bromas ligeras. Si no supiera nada mejor, pensaría y estaría completamente segura de que las personas que iban a la iglesia estaban allí solo para ver al Padre Seokjin. Prácticamente había hecho que todo el pueblo se enamorara de él. El sacerdote encantador y de buen corazón que era un símbolo de la devoción del pueblo y era una luz cálida y brillante para aquellos que buscaban su providencia.

El Padre Seokjin hablaba y todos escuchaban. Bueno, todos menos T/n.

Sus sermones parecían entrarle por un oído y salir por el otro, y en su lugar, optaba por soñar despierta. Sus ojos nunca deambulaban por el interior de la iglesia, siempre estaban enfocados en la mirada suave y persistente del padre Seokjin. Y esto no había pasado desapercibido para él, por supuesto. 

T/n era la chica que asistía a sus misas todos los domingos pero que solo estaba allí; sentada entre la multitud, el mismo asiento todas las mañanas, interactuando con la menor cantidad de personas posible, siempre la primera en entrar y la última en salir. Y había llamado su atención por completo, cada vez más intrigado por ella y por la forma en que parecía querer arrancarle la sotana con los ojos, deseando poder saber que pasaba por su cabecita para ser tan persistente y dispuesta en cualquier cosa que tuviera que ver con la Iglesia, y ahora era él quien estaba completamente cautivado por ella,

La comunión era la parte favorita de la misa para T/n. Eso significaba que era casi la hora de irse y formó un pequeño puchero dándose cuenta de que ahora tendría que esperar hasta la próxima semana para volver a ver al Padre Seokjin, pero aun así se puso de pie y caminó hacia la fila para recibir la hostia, y mientras esperaba, no pudo evitar mirar el hermoso arte pintado en el techo de la iglesia y las estatuas de santos que la rodeaban a cada paso que seguía avanzando hasta que finalmente estuvo frente a frente con el Padre Seokjin.

Él le sonrió cálidamente y con ternura en sus ojos mientras la veía hincarse frente a él sobre el reclinatorio, esperando pacientemente a que ella lo mirara y sonriendo aún más al ver el destello de timidez que brilló en su rostro mientras parpadeaba a través de sus pestañas cuando finalmente elevó su mirada hacia él. Su imponente estatura fácilmente hacía sentir a T/n como si estuviera mirando a Dios mismo.

— El cuerpo de Cristo.— Anunció con su voz suave y amable mientras le ofrecía la hostia.

Los labios de T/n se cerraron alrededor del pan sin dejar de mirarlo a los ojos, sus labios rozaron de forma cálida y suave contra los dedos del Padre quien inclinó la cabeza levemente hacia un lado con diversión y una pequeña sonrisita tiró de la comisura de sus labios hacia arriba, había sido una acción pequeña e imperceptible que debió haber sido la primera bandera roja de que el Padre Seokjin no era en absoluto quien parecía ser, y tal vez T/n había sido demasiado ingenua por no darse cuenta.

— Amén.— T/n respondió por lo bajo mirándolo con pura adoración en sus ojos, odiando profundamente tener que alejarse de su presencia.

Pero simplemente obedeció cuando el clérigo hizo un pequeño asentimiento para que se levantara y regresara a su asiento, el Padre Seokjin aun podía sentir la sensación de sus suaves labios en la punta de sus dedos mientras le daba un rápido vistazo desde lejos, y tenía que admitir que sintió como si lo hubiera besado un ángel.

Y el pensamiento de T/n no abandonó su mente durante el resto de la misa, estando completamente seguro que tal vez ella era una especie de tentación divina puesta deliberadamente frente a él como si se tratara de una prueba de Dios o como si fuera un desafío en su camino. Una cosita curiosa e inocente que el Padre Seokjin amaría ver caer y derrumbarse frente a él solo para poder reclamarla como suya. 

Para él, T/n era como un pequeño cordero tembloroso, completamente ajena al lobo que la acechaba. Quizás hoy era el momento perfecto para atacar. Tal vez la presa ya estaba lista para ser capturada.

"Todavía no." El Padre Seokjin pensó para sí mismo.

Había decidido que se tomaría su tiempo, continuaría observándola desde lejos como siempre lo había hecho y planear cuidadosamente su siguiente paso antes de finalmente morder la manzana del pecado  que era esa jovencita de ojos de muñeca y labios rosados que atormentaban sus noches más solitarias y más pecaminosas. 

Él jugaría con su desinterés en la iglesia justo como ella lo hacía con sus pensamientos lujuriosos, después de todo, tenía que haber una razón que la estaban atrayendo a la iglesia, a él, y para ser alguien supuestamente irreverente, T/n estaba mostrando una gran devoción hacia cualquier cosa que estuviera planeando, pero el Padre Seokjin lo solucionaría, solo era cuestión de…

—¿Padre? —T/n lo llamó suavemente y su voz interrumpió sus pensamientos por completo.

—Vaya, ¿Todavía estás aquí, paloma mía? — El Padre preguntó, mirando alrededor de la iglesia, notando que ahora estaba vacía y solo eran ellos dos quienes seguían ahí.

—Quería hacerle una pregunta, padre. —T/n pidió en voz baja, mientras se distanciaba levemente de él.

El Padre Seokjin le hizo un gesto para que se sentara en uno de los bancos a su lado y T/n lo hizo evitando su mirada, mordiéndose el labio inferior cuando el silencio se hizo presente entre los dos, sin saber cómo empezar exactamente.

— Bueno, por supuesto que puedes hacerme preguntas.—  El Padre Seokjin aseguró dando un par de pasos cuidadosos hacia ella.— Ven, siéntate y cuéntame qué es lo que te preocupa. 

—Temo que me estén corrompiendo, Padre…—T/n comenzó a hablar por lo bajo y de a poco, cuidando cada una de las palabras que le decía.— Me está comiendo por dentro, es como si se estuviera extendiendo como el fuego del infierno dentro de mi.

—Está bien.— La voz del Padre era tranquila y firme, transmitiendole un poco de seguridad con sus palabras.— Estás a salvo conmigo, puedes confiar en mí.

Y con eso el corazón del Padre Seokjin se llenó de preocupación. 

—¿Corrompiendo? Oh, mi dulce paloma. ¿Es por eso que has estado tan distante recientemente? ¿Te has estado guardando todo esto para ti sola? —preguntó con voz suave acortando de a poco la distancia que los separaba sin llegar a ser muy invasivo, mucho menos cuando la vio ponerse rígida y asentir levemente con su cabeza.— Paloma mía, esta es una carga que no tienes que llevar sola. Estoy aquí para ti. No hay razón para que sientas que tienes que distanciarte cuando te sientas preocupada.

—Lo siento, padre. —T/n respondió por lo bajo, agachando su cabeza sintiéndose avergonzada.

—No hay necesidad de disculparse. —murmuró en medio de una sonrisa y elevando una de sus manos para frotar suavemente el dorso de la de T/n, viéndola suspirar y relajarse de a poco en su toque y se aclaró la garganta.— Entonces, cuéntame más sobre ésta... corrupción.

—Me condenaría, Padre… —T/n respondió con voz pequeña mordiendo su labio y sintiendo como su rostro comenzaba a arder de vergüenza.

— ¿Qué clase de sacerdote sería yo para condenar tal pureza? —Habló y su voz la tranquilizó más de lo que alguna vez hubiera pensado, era como miel para sus oídos.

El Padre Seokjin se levantó de su asiento y lentamente se dirigió hasta quedar de pie frente a ella, viéndola clavar sus ojos en el suelo, incapaz de siquiera mirarlo y él no podía entender del todo su actitud.

Había un silencio de muerte. La tensión en la iglesia de repente se hizo notar entre los dos y el Padre Seokjin se movió para pararse más cerca de ella y su sombra cayó sobre T/n como si fuera una manta con cada uno de sus pecados y, sin embargo, comenzó a sentirse más caliente que el calor del sol de ésta mañana.

—¿Has perdido el contacto con tu fe? —El Padre Seokjin habló con la voz más baja y suave que alguna vez hubiera escuchado.

T/n jugaba con sus manos en su regazo, retorciéndose bajo su profunda mirada y no respondió, estaba demasiado aturdida por la pregunta que le hizo para saber cómo responder correctamente.

—Dime, paloma. —El Padre volvió a hablar, usando dos de sus dedos para inclinar su barbilla hacia arriba y hacer que por una buena vez que lo mirara. —¿Buscas una nueva religión? 

—¡N-no! No he perdido mi fe…—T/n habló finalmente en medio de un sollozo, sintiendo como todo su cuerpo comenzaba a temblar bajo su toque y su mirada. —Ésta corrupción es…diferente.

—¿Diferente? —El Padre preguntó aún más confundido, inclinándose sobre ella para mirarla a los ojos.— ¿Cómo?

—Yo… —T/n balbuceó sintiendo como su mirada la hacía sentir increíblemente pequeña frente a él.— Tengo estos deseos. Impulsos pecaminosos que vienen a mí tarde en la noche. Padre, quiero deshacerme de ellos.

Y con eso el Padre Seokjin pareció comprenderlo todo, pero trató de guardar las apariencias lo mejor que pudo, pero fue incapaz de luchar contra la sonrisa divertida que se formó en su rostro justo antes de relamerse los labios.— ¿Impulsos pecaminosos? ¿Deseos? Querida, no estás hablando de lo que creo que es... ¿verdad?

—Es vergonzoso, Padre, lo sé… —T/n murmuró por lo bajo mordiéndose el labio con fuerza y sintiendo como pequeñas lágrimas comenzaban a brotar de sus ojos.

— Shhh, no hay necesidad de avergonzarse. —El Padre Seokjin susurró de forma tranquilizadora al mismo tiempo que elevaban sus manos para acunar su rostro con cuidado; limpiando de a poco sus lágrimas. 

Era como si su simple toque enviará olas de electricidad por todo su cuerpo, y T/n hizo todo lo posible para concentrarse en los tiernos ojos del Padre Seokjin mientras volvía a hablar.

—Las necesidades carnales son humanas, querida. Está en nuestra naturaleza querer ceder a esa tentación. —explicó suavemente, como si estuviera hablando con una niña pequeña mientras T/n se derretía por completo en su toque, mirándolo con ojos de cachorrito y presionando su mejilla más contra su palma. —Cuéntame más de cómo te consume esta corrupción.

—No podría, Padre… —T/n habló negando con su cabeza en medio de hipos y una que otra lágrima que  aún goteaba de sus ojos antes de darle un rápido vistazo a todas las estatuas y pinturas de santos a su alrededor.— No aquí…

—Entiendo, ¿Quieres ir al confesionario? —preguntó tranquilamente colocando un mechón de su cabello detrás de su oreja justo antes de verla asentir con ilusión haciendo sonreír.— Está bien, vamos.

Y tan pronto como dijo el Padre Seokjin entrelazó su mano con la de ella guiandola por el pasillo que daba directo hacia el confesionario y que se escondía en una de las esquinas del gran salón de la Iglesia, lo suficientemente aislado del lugar para que nadie pudiera escuchar ninguna de las confesiones que los creyentes hicieran y se respetará el secreto de confesión del Padre Seokjin.

Era una especide de armario de dos espacios, hecho de la misma caoba lacada de los bancos y de tamaño solo un poco mas grande que para una persona en cada uno de ellos, una cortina de color rojo vino a lo largo de cada puerta que ayudaban a proteger la identidad de cada penitente, y tan pronto como llegaron el Padre Seokjin abrió la puerta del lado derecho, haciendole un leve movimiento para que entrara y ella lo hizo murmurando un pequeño ‘gracias’.

T/n sabía que no debería estar haciendo esto, sabía que estaba mal, incluso el mero pensamiento de confesar todos sus pensamientos pecaminosos eran suficiente para destrozar su conciencia, pero su conciencia ya estaba arruinada desde el primer momento en que hundió su mano entre sus piernas teniendo en su mente al Padre Seokjin, y sabía que eso era la mayor condena para sí misma. 

Así que se obligó a quedarse quieta en el banco de madera en el que estaba sentada, tratando de asegurar sus crecientes nervios, podía escuchar los latidos de su corazón en ese pequeño espacio, al menos estaba oculta por la tenue oscuridad de la cabina, pero de alguna manera se sentía desnuda y expuesta, como si la oscuridad fuera aún más reveladora, y sabía que sus pensamientos no estaban a salvo en este silencio y oscuridad sobresalientes.

El sonido de la puerta de la otra cabina se escuchó tres veces más fuerte cuando el Padre Seokjin entrò, T/n notó su silueta oscura moverse del otro lado, sus zapatos resonaron en el piso de madera con cada paso que dio y el asiento crujió cuando se sentó, sus manos se movian nerviosamente en su regazo cuando la voz profunda del Padre se escuchó a su derecha.

—No te pongas nerviosa, paloma. Tómate tu tiempo para encontrar tus palabras. —El Padre Seokjin murmuró suavemente, intentando transmitirle toda la confianza que necesitará. 

El corazón de T/n se estremeció en su pecho y se obligó a  inhalar y exhalar pausadamente. Podía hacer esto. Sus labios se abrieron y las palabras cayeron familiarmente, como un hábito perpetuo.

—Bendígame Padre, porque he pecado. Esta es mi primera confesión. —comenzó a hablar apretando sus manos en puño en el borde de su falda, pensando que la verdad debería mantenerse bajo llave como lo había estado haciendo los últimos días, esa verdad con la que no debería haber jugado en primer lugar.

—Independientemente de que estés aquí solo para decir tu verdad o para desahogar su mente, estoy aquí para escuchar, paloma.— El Padre aseguró y el sonido de su voz retumbó bajo y cálida a través de la rejilla que los separaba. 

Ya estaba aquí, ya no había vuelta atrás ahora.

—He tenido pensamientos impropios sobre éste… hombre, que está fuera de mi alcance. Sé que no debería tener pensamientos tan traicioneros sobre él. Pero no puedo parar. —T/n comenzó a hablar sintiendo como su voz salía temblorosa, manteniendo sus ojos enfocados en las tenues sombras de las estatuas que se reflejaban dentro de la cabina.— Yo… apenas puedo mirarlo, apenas puedo soportar estar cerca de él, porque lo deseo tanto y eso me vuelve codiciosa, ese es uno de los siete pecados capitales, ¿no? ¿Codicia? Eso es lo que soy, Padre. Lo quiero y quiero todo de él. Quiero su tiempo y sus pensamientos, y no quiero compartirlo con nadie.

Y tan pronto como su confesión salió de sus labios un silencio abrumador los inundó a ambos, un largo y agonizante silencio mientras esperaba la respuesta del Padre Seokjin quien parecía estar encontrando las palabras correctas que decir, imposible de ocultar la bruma de celos y posesividad que comenzó a crecer en su pecho después de escuchar a su pequeña paloma hablar de esa forma de otro hombre. 

Detestaba el simple pensamiento de T/n tocandose pensando en otra persona y le ardía en sus entrañas, él quería ser el único hombre que estuviera en su mente, el único que la hiciera sentir bien, el único que la viera doblegarse y caer de rodillas pidiendo mas placer, quería que fuera suya, y de nadie más. 

—¿Él está casado? —preguntó poco después, recordando sus palabras y con su voz más dura y áspera de lo que imagino, pero era algo que simplemente no pudo evitar.

—No, no lo está. Es... mucho peor. —T/n respondió pensando cual de las dos opciones era peor, ¿Fantasear con un hombre casado o con un hombre que comprometía su vida a Dios? 

—Solo eres humano, y el humano comete errores. Ningún error es imperdonable cuando te arrepientes de tus pecados.— El Padre Seokjin instruyó con prudencia, y casi sonó como si esas palabras se las estuviera diciendo a sí mismo.

T/n negó con su cabeza ante eso, como si el hombre al otro lado pudiera verla, eso no era lo que queria escuchar de él, queria que le dijera que estaba mal, algo que le diera un incentivo para acabar con esta tortura.

—Lo hace sonar tan inocente Padre, y no es así…—hablo casi burlándose sin humor de sus palabras.

—¿Por qué no lo es? —El Padre preguntó y su tono de voz cambió por completo, enviàndole un escalofrío que recorrió el cuerpo de T/n, sonaba diferente ahora, ya no se escuchaba reservado ni distante, sonaba cálido y curioso, y la animó a seguir hablando.— Dime más. 

Oh, Dios.

—Yo… —T/n balbuceó sintiendo de repente como si su garganta estuviera llena de ceniza. —Lo quiero de manera inocente, a veces. Quiero arrodillarme frente a él y adorarlo hasta que no pueda más, quiero ser buena para él y que me halague por eso. —habló con calma, dejando que su mirada se deslizara hacia el suelo, donde la luz de las velas iluminaba sus piernas. —Pero también lo quiero de otras maneras. 

Podía sentir cómo sus palabras se le clavaban en la garganta una tras otra. Estaba segura que la vaga forma de su deseo era suficiente para que el Padre Seokjin supiera que estaba hablando de él, pero parecía como si el sacerdote no tuviera intenciones de detenerla, era como si la estuviera provocando con su voz, y la tensión se podía palpar en el aire, espesa, a pesar de la rejilla que los dividía y el Padre tarareó levemente. 

Quería que siguiera hablando.

—Pienso en él cuando no debería, Padre. Trato de no pensar en él de esa manera, pero es tan difícil no hacerlo, siento que sabe cómo es mi alma, y me asusta, pero también me hace quererlo más… —T/n continuó hablando sintiendo como toda la sangre de su cuerpo circulaba con más rapidez, acentuándose en su rostro y entre sus piernas como ocurría todas las noches desde que conoció al Padre Seokjin. 

—¿Cuándo piensas en él? —El Padre preguntó con voz áspera, y ese mismo sonido era todo lo que T/n podía escuchar, todo lo demás se había desvanecido en la oscuridad del lugar. 

—Lo hago cuando los pensamientos me mantienen despierta por la noche. Cuando está oscuro y estoy sola. Me marean y me dan calor…—respondió con dificultad, sintiendo como las palabras quedaban atoradas en su garganta y como sus mejillas ardían de vergüenza ante lo siguiente que dijo. —Pienso en él cuando me toco, Padre.       

Y en ese preciso momento T/n deseaba profundamente que el suelo se abriera y la tragara por completo, pero aún así no podía dejar de hablar, no ahora que parte del secreto que la atormentaba estaba a la vista, necesitaba compartirlo todo, no pensaba seguir cargando con esa culpa sola, y no le importaban las consecuencias que vendrían con eso.

—Trato de no hacerlo, sé que está mal, pero no puedo, trato de pensar en alguien sin rostro, pero no puedo sacar su rostro de mi cabeza. Su voz. Trato de pensar en alguien menos en él, pero no puedo detenerme.

Su respiración era rápida y agitada, sentía como si acabara de subir corriendo tres tramos de escaleras. Las palmas de sus manos estaban pegajosas por el sudor y como pudo las limpió en la tela de su falda sintiendo su cuerpo arder en calor, y por una fracción de segundo, se le ocurrió correr, salir corriendo de ahí al aire frío de la noche, el hecho que el Padre Seokjin no hubiera dicho ni una sola palabra acerca de su confesión la hacía sentir mucho más nerviosa, completamente segura de que él la reprendería por tener ese tipo de pensamientos, que le diría que estaba condenada al infierno por ese pecado, pero lo siguiente que escuchó la dejó congelada en su lugar.

—Hazlo.

Esa palabra del Padre Seokjin sonó como un trueno dentro de la iglesia.

—¿Qué? —preguntó incrédula, sin entender exactamente lo que dijo.

—Muéstrame. —El Padre Seokjin corrigió rápidamente antes de que se escuchara un sonido resbaladizo, como si se hubiera humedecido los labios con su lengua.— Muéstrame tu pecado.

Y ante eso lo único que T/n pudo hacer fue jadear por lo bajo, esperaba internamente la broma, la risa, que él estuviera bromeando, pero eso nunca llegó. Y en cambio, sólo hubo silencio. Por primera vez miró hacia un lado, buscando alguna señal del Padre Seokjin pero todo lo que vio a través de la rejilla fue el contorno aproximado de su perfil.

Antes de que T/n pudiera reaccionar, vergonzosamente, su cuerpo lo hizo primero, reaccionando por completo a su voz, su piel se calentó más que el mismo sol, sus pezones se irguieron debajo de su blusa y el familiar cosquilleo se acentuó entre sus piernas como si se hubiera tratado de una orden del Padre Seokjin. 

Apenas y pudo murmurar un pequeño asentimiento antes de hacer exactamente lo que le había dicho, T/n podía escuchar el latido de su corazón retumbando en sus oídos y el ritmo incierto de su respiración mientras separaba de a poco sus piernas para deslizar su mano entre sus muslos. 

Su estomago se contrajo abrupatmente cuando sus dedos hicieron contacto con su centro vestido y su respiración se cortó aún más al sentir la pequeña macha de humedad en sus bragas, joder, había estado sufriendo tanto por esto que ni se habia dado cuenta, pero era algo obvio, el Pade Seokjin siempre había tenido un efecto especial en ella, y lo corroboró cuando presionó ligeramente sobre su clítoris, mordiéndose el labio inferior para evitar gemir demasiado pronto y sujetandose con fuerza del borde el asiento con su mano disponible.

La culpa y la excitación se retorcían dentro de su cuerpo, una con la otra, luchando por ver cual tendría el control, sus dedos se movían tan lentamente, torturándose a sí misma y con su respiración agitándose cada vez más con cada débil movimiento sobre su clítoris, estaba demasiado metida en sus propias sensaciones que apenas y fue consciente de la misma respiración agitada del Padre Seokjin, y cuando se dio cuenta de eso T/n no pudo evitar preguntarse qué estaba haciendo en su lado de la cabina, se preguntaba dónde estaban sus manos, tal vez agarrando sus rodillas o apretando con fuerza la tela de sus pantalones, o tal vez en otra parte; subiendo por sus muslos hasta…

—Oh, Seokjin… —T/n gimió por lo bajo antes de taparse la boca con su mano libre para sofocar otro gemido, aunque fue demasiado tarde para que el Padre Seokjin lo escuchara a la perfección.

—¿Es eso lo que haces? —El Padre preguntó con su voz baja y ronca, enviándole un escalofrío de deseo al rojo vivo a T/n por su columna vertebral, casi pudiendo escuchar su sonrisita al otro lado con lo siguiente que dijo. —¿Cuando te tocas dices mi nombre, paloma?

—Padre, por favor yo no… -T/n balbuceó ahogando un nuevo gemido ante otro movimiento de sus dedos, incapaz de poder mentirle ahora. 

—No mientas paloma, la forma en que dijiste mi nombre, suena tan familiar. Como si hubieras hecho esto antes. —El Padre agregó con soberbia, había una oscuridad en su voz que T/n nunca había escuchado en él.

—Oh, Dios… —Un nuevo jadeo se derritió en sus labios sin poder ocultarlo, sus caderas se movieron hacia enfrente y contra su palma, buscando desesperadamente un poco más de fricción para su clítoris necesitado, la culpa se estaba comiendo sus entrañas, pero no podía detenerse.— Padre, por favor, siento que empiezan a corromperme de nuevo…

Y con eso los ojos del Padre Seokjin se iluminaron en puro deseo, agradeciendo que ella no pudiera verlo.— ¿Ahora mismo?

—Sí, los pensamientos están volviendo, Padre… —T/n asintió con la cabeza con furia, como si él pudiera verla moviendo sus dedos con más fuerza sobre su centro ahora empapado con su humedad, mojándole los dedos vergonzosamente. 

Inesperadamente se escuchó un tintineo metálico al otro lado de la cabina y a T/n se le cortó el aliento al darse cuenta. Su cinturón, el Padre Seokjin se estaba desabrochando el cinturón, mierda, mierda. Cerró los ojos con fuerza intentando alejarse de eso, pero aún podía escuchar el roce de su cinturón cuando el cuero se movió contra sus trabillas y simplemente no pudo evitar imaginarse la forma en que se veía su mano sobre el bulto de sus pantalones.

—Dime de quien se tratan, paloma. —El Padre pidió en medio de un suspiro pesado y T/n juró que su cuerpo tembló sobre el asiento al escucharlo. 

—Se tratan de ti Padre, siempre has sido tu… —Admitió entrecortado presionando con más fuerza sobre su clítoris, lo necesitaba, demasiado, era casi carnal la necesidad que tenía por él.

Una especie de calor perverso le atravesó el pecho al Padre Seokjin, casi como un sentimiento de orgullo al escuchar a su pequeña paloma admitiendo que él era el que la hacía pecar, que él era el protagonista de sus fantasías como ella lo era de las suyas, era perfecto y eso le hizo apretar con más fuerza el eje de su miembro duro por encima de la tela de su boxer, casi gruñendo al imaginarse que era T/n la que estaba entre sus rodillas dándole la misma atención con su propia mano.

—¿Yo? —Él se rió entre dientes mientras la seguía escuchando sollozar y gemir por lo bajo, casi deseando poder estar con ella para ver como aliviaba el calor de su cuerpo.— No eres tan pura como yo pensaba, ¿verdad paloma?

—Por favor, Padre…— T/n gimoteó una vez más, presionando sus muslos juntos y moviendo sus caderas con fuerza contra su mano.— Por favor, ayúdame a deshacerme de estos deseos…

Y con eso el Padre Seokjin ensanchó su sonrisa, ¿Quién era él para negarle a su linda palomita que la librara de sus deseos carnales? Después de todo, ese era su deber como sacerdote, ¿no es así? Limpiar a los pecadores de sus pecados, y qué mejor manera que hacer lo mismo con ella, limpiar esos pensamientos pecaminosos de su linda cabecita y devolverle la pureza.

Hubo un silencio después de su ruego hacia el Padre que rápidamente fue cortado por un ruido repentino, demasiado rápido para que T/n lo procesara antes de parpadear ante la luz que inundó la pequeña cabina, y cuando pudo ver con claridad el Padre Seokjin estaba de pie frente a ella, su barbilla está inclinada hacia un lado, el cinturón de su pantalón colgaba pesado hacia ambos lados, la cremallera estaba abierta y una mancha oscura y húmeda decoraba el contorno de su dura erección haciéndola jadear sin ser capaz de cerrar sus piernas ante la imagen cuando el Padre Seokjin rápidamente apretó con sus manos su pantalón, levantando la tela para poder arrodillarse frente a ella. 

—Padre…— T/n susurró por lo bajo, sin poder recordar ninguna palabra excepto su título mientras lo veía hundirse entre sus piernas para tomarla por el cuello con una de sus manos, su palma ancha se envolvió alrededor de su garganta antes de inclinarse hacia ella y perseguir su boca ansioso con la de él. 

Sus rosados labios se estrellaron con firmeza contra los de ella, y T/n sintió como si estuviera en la puerta del cielo y jadeó contra su boca al darse cuenta de que el Padre Seokjin besaba como un hombre hambriento. 

Su cuerpo cayó en un flujo intenso con sus labios unidos a los del otro, sus manos se ajustaron a sus anchos hombros y los arañó por encima de su camisa negra, desesperada por más. Toda la mente de T/n se nubló con la sensación de él, con su aroma, con su sabor, con cada presión de sus labios sobre los de ella y sintiendo como acariciaba su cuello suavemente, rozando sus dedos sobre su pulso antes de presionar con la fuerza suficiente para hacerla jadear sobre su boca y él aprovechó la oportunidad para meter su lengua en la de ella, y rápidamente sus lenguas se enredaron en una danza ardiente, sin necesidad de música, solo el ritmo recién descubierto de sus lenguas, dientes y labios. 

—Seokjin… —la voz de T/n tembló mientras respiraba su nombre en una oración entrecortada contra su boca apenas separándose de él.

—Sí, cariño, estoy aquí. —El Padre respondió de la misma forma antes de volver a presionar otro beso voraz en sus labios, ajustando sus manos en su cintura para acercarla lo más posible a su cuerpo, y T/n dejó escapar un suspiro de alivio ante su entusiasmo por continuar.

—Lo siento, sé que no debería… no debería quererte así, pero…— T/n se lamentó de la misma forma ajustando sus manos en su cuello blanco y clerical, el recordatorio de que esto estaba mal, pero no pudo hacerle mucho caso a sus culpables pensamientos cuando sintió al Padre Seokjin tomar sus piernas con sus manos para ajustarlas en su cintura firmemente.

—Está bien, paloma. —Arrulló con su voz ronca volviendo a atrapar sus labios en otro beso, mordisqueando su labio inferior y escuchándola gemir desde lo más profundo de su pecho antes de tomar su mano y guiarla hacia abajo hasta dejarla sobre su entrepierna.— Sigue adelante, cariño. Sigue tocandote para mi. 

Y con eso ultimo T/n ahogó otro gemido contra sus labios, volviendo a frotar sus dedos una y otra vez sobre su botón de placer, amando la fricción que se producía entre sus torsos presionados el uno con el otro y de sus respiraciones agitadas coreando el pequeño y santo espacio en el que estaban.

—Pensé que me dirias que debía dejar de pecar…— T/n se las arregló para murmurar aquello descansando su frente contra la de él, sonriendo tontamente al escucharlo reír contra sus mejillas. 

—No creo que un pecador pueda decirle a otro que se detenga.— El Padre afirmó con sorna en su voz, presionando la parte inferior de su cuerpo para que estuviera al ras con la de él, situándose mejor entre sus piernas y viéndola jadear cuando su pelvis se hundió contra su entrepierna.

No había mucho espacio en la pequeña cabina, pero eso solo los acercó aún más mientras T/n le rodeaba el cuello con los brazos con fuerza; podía sentir su erección hurgando sobre su núcleo vestido, y no había nada más que quisiera que arrancar la tela que se interponía entre sus cuerpos.

El beso acalorado se estaba convirtiendo en algo más. El Padre trazó sus cálidos besos con la boca abierta por el arco de su cuello, hasta la base de tu garganta antes de darle un suave mordisco, sus labios rosados se cerraron alrededor del área, succionando y chupando su piel suavemente, haciendo que T/n exhalara un gemido estrangulado, el volumen se elevó un poco por encima de los sonidos de sus respiraciones agitadas pero tampoco les importó demasiado. Rápidamente las manos de T/n abandonaron su cuello y aflojaron los primeros botones de su blusa, invitando a la boca atenta y pecadora del Padre Seokjin a bajar un poco más, y él por supuesto que estaba más que ansioso por responder a su deseo.

Su cabeza bajó por tu cuello, tomándose el tiempo para besar minuciosamente tu piel caliente, acariciando su rostro entre tus pechos y un escalofrío recorrió el cuerpo de T/n al sentir la punta de su nariz rozar la curvatura de uno de sus senos antes de que su lengua caliente saliera para lamer su pezón endurecido a través de la delgada tela de su blusa, haciéndola gemir con fuerza y taparse la boca desesperadamente para evitar hacer más ruido.

—Dios se tomó su tiempo cuando te hizo para mi, paloma.— El Padre Seokjin murmuró sobre su pecho continuando con el implacable ataque de su lengua sobre su pezón, desviando su vista hacia arriba y hacia su rostro solo para verla con la cabeza hacia atrás contra la pared de madera y con sus labios entreabiertos, y se apresuró a elevar su otra mano para masajear su seno descuidado. 

T/n sentia que podia morir feliz justo ahora, siendo torturada con sus bonitos labios y su caliente lengua una y otra vez, podía sentir como la tela de su blusa estaba empapada con su saliva por la forma en que se adhería a su piel, haciéndola jadear ante la deliciosa fricción en su sensible brote y removerse en el asiento y que sus caderas se frotaran contra su dura erección. 

Y antes de pasar al otro lado, el Padre Seokjin le dio otra perversa succión a su pezón riendo por lo bajo de cómo su cuerpo se sacudió debajo de él y su voz salió ahogada en medio del beso de transición a su otro seno.

—Eres celestial, más de lo que podría haber imaginado.— Afirmó cuando su dedo encontró el tramo húmedo de tela, jugando con su sensible pezón una y otra vez, casi volviéndola loca y haciendo que ajustara sus movimientos con su cadera, prácticamente frotando su centro húmedo contra su dura erección atrapada en sus pantalones; haciéndolo ahogar un gruñido contra su seno ante la fricción.

Sus cuerpos seguían completamente vestidos, nunca antes habían estado tan excitados como ahora que su sucia fantasía se estaba haciendo realidad, la espalda de T/n se arqueó más hacia su boca, buscando su calor, rogando por mas, tenia miedo que esto fuera solo un sueño, uno más entre muchos que había tenido con el Padre Seokjin.

Sabía que ya había probado la fruta prohibida y, como un adicta, solo podía rogar por más. Sus indecentes oraciones de más se convirtieron en susurros en el momento en que escapaban de sus labios hinchados de tanto morderlos, y ni siquiera pudo mantener el volumen bajo cuando lo sintió morder con fuerza su pezón al mismo tiempo que sus manos deslizaron sus bragas por sus piernas en un rápido movimiento; el escozor de su mordida y el aire frío golpeando la piel sensible de su entrada convirtieron sus silenciosos gemidos en un grito agudo que reverberó desde el espacio confinado del confesionario hacia la extensión silenciosa y resonante de la iglesia. 

Ni siquiera pudo reaccionar cuando el Padre Seokjin tomó sus piernas para colocarlas sobre sus hombros, arrodillándose por completo frente a ella y haciéndola estremecerse aún más al sentir su aliento caliente y agitado abanicar su sensible entrada. 

—Eres como un ángel puesto delante de mi.— El Padre Seokjin volvió a hablar entrecortado, viéndola desde abajo morderse el labio para evitar gemir cuando deslizó uno de sus dedos entre sus pliegues resbaladizos, recogiendo su humedad solo para llevárselo a la boca y chuparlo ruidosamente; ronroneando gustoso al probar su sabor.

La vista que T/n tenia era algo completamente digno de contemplar, era algo que pensaba que nunca pasaría, pero ahora aquí estaba; viendo los ojos oscuros y cargados de placer del Padre Seokjin mientras se relamía sus labios enrojecidos por todos los besos que se habían dado, terminando de degustar los restos de su sabor justo antes de formar una sonrisita maliciosa y susurrar acaloradamente sobre su centro.

—Sabes a cielo, paloma, déjame adorarte…

Y tan pronto como dijo eso su cabeza se hundió por completo entre sus piernas y la vista de él desapareció detrás de tus párpados cuando los cerraste ante el primer contacto de sus labios sobre tu clítoris hinchado y necesitado. 

Empezó despacio, perezosamente, como si tuviera todo el tiempo del mundo, la mano de T/n se movió para tomar un puño de su cabello; tirando de los suaves mechones ansiosa y desesperada cuando su lengua caliente salió para lamer y chupar entre sus pliegues una y otra vez, le gustaba demasiado esto, la sensación de que el Padre Seokjin la devoraba, succionando su pequeño clítoris cada vez más fuerte que le fue imposible no enredar sus dedos entre su cabello para guiarlo hacia arriba y abajo mientras elevaba sus caderas para encontrar su lengua, y él se dejó hacer, no había nada que hubiera deseado más que probar su sabor justo como ahora lo estaba haciendo, podía sentir que su pequeña paloma estaba punto de romperse, el agudo gemido que soltó y el temblor de sus piernas se lo hizo saber, y justo cuando estaba listo para tomar todo de su dulce orgasmo su voz lo regresó a la realidad. 

—Jin, porfavor, necesito sentirte dentro de mi…— T/n rogó tan dulcemente a sus oídos que al Padre le fue imposible no obedecer sus plegarias. 

Le dio unas últimas lamidas en su entrada y clítoris antes incorporarse y colocarse de nuevo entre sus piernas sintiendo como las manos de T/n volaban hacia los botones de su cuello y camisa, comenzándolos a soltar desesperadamente y él hizo lo mismo con su pantalón, apretando su mandíbula con fuerza ante la dolorosa fricción de la tela de su boxer cuando finalmente liberó su miembro; viéndolo salir disparado hacia arriba completamente duro e hinchado, tuvo que reprimir una risita al verla relamerse los labios ante la vista y se apresuró a separar aún más sus piernas, siseando cuando apoyó su miembro contra su entrada para comenzar a deslizar la punta de su pene entre sus pliegues, cubriéndola con su humedad y haciéndole saber cuán grande era y cuán profundo estaría dentro de ella.

El Padre se inclinó sobre su cuerpo, volviendo a tomarla por su cuello para encontrar sus labios una vez más, jugando con su lengua y mordisqueando su labio inferior para amortiguar su gemido cuando comenzó a empujar de a poco la punta de su pene a través de su entrada, chistando suavemente al sentir su cuerpo estremecerse mientras su interior se apretaba imponente alrededor de su duro eje.

—Es… demasiado grande…— T/n jadeó luchando por asimilarlo, y le resultó difícil formar esas palabras en su estado sin aliento sintiendo su miembro empujarse contra cada parte de ella, hambriento de más, alentando a su interior a aceptarlo más profundamente, y el Padre Seokjin gimió en tu boca, con una voz ronca y áspera.

—Puedes tomarlo, paloma…— El padre siseó ajustando sus manos en tu cintura con fuerza, ayudándote a aceptar su tamaño mientras seguía empujándose dentro, hundiéndose cada vez mas hasta la base de su pene, gruñendo cuando terminó de empujar los últimos centímetros de su longitud dentro de ella.— Joder, te sientes increíble…

Aquel gruñido poco después de tocar fondo hizo que a T/n se le cortara la respiración, la quemadura dentro de ella hizo que su cabeza se confundiera de felicidad mientras luchaba por ajustarse a su tamaño, y aunque el Padre Seokjin estuviera un tanto abrumado con la estrechez que lo rodeaba, fue lo que lo animó a comenzar a marcar un ritmo lento y constante dentro y fuera de ella, hundiendo su rostro en su cuello, volviendo a salpicar toda su piel con besos húmedos y calientes. 

T/n se sentía en el cielo con cada una de sus embestidas profundas y duras, sus sueños y pensamientos pecaminosos nunca lograrían compararse a la realidad de estar siendo follada por el Padre Seokjin, todo se sentía mil veces mejor, su polla la llenaba de una forma tan deliciosa y los gemidos que goteaban como miel de sus labios la dejaban delirando por más, sus uñas se deslizaban y dejaban marcas rojizas por su pecho y hombros, el sudor que caía por sus sienes hasta su cuello lo hacían ver incluso más tentador y la hinchazón de sus labios la hacían querer volver a besarlo. 

A tientas extendió una mano para sostenerse de algo, cualquier cosa, y cuando su mano agarró el crucifijo que colgaba de su cuello, tiró con fuerza de él como si fuera una correa, acercando al Padre hacia ella viéndolo lanzarle una sonrisita siniestra justo antes de besarlo con fuerza, gimiendo contra sus labios cuando sus embestidas se volvieron brutales y profundas, su pelvis chocaba contra sus caderas de una forma tan deliciosa, los sonidos húmedos y lascivos de su polla hundiéndose una y otra vez en su coño llenaban sus oídos y la dejaban delirando sintiendo como el nudo apretado de su orgasmo amenazaba con romperse en cualquier momento. 

—Oh Dios, Jin estoy tan cerca…— T/n lloriqueó contra él sintiendo su aliento caliente y rápido contra la piel de su cuello, haciéndola sentir cada vez mas humeda.— Voy a correrme… —advirtió con su respiración atascada en la garganta y con los latidos de su corazón martillando en su pecho con fuerza. 

—Hazlo, paloma…— El Padre gimió sin aliento acariciando su mejilla caliente y luego la comisura de su labio, deleitándose con su simple belleza en su punto máximo de placer justo antes de volver a atrapar su pecho entre sus dientes, sintiéndola removerse y arquear su espalda aún más contra su boca mientras seguía chupando y mordisqueando con fuerza su endurecido pezón una y otra vez. 

En algún punto de la desastrosa mente de T/n esperaba que eso dejara marcas en su piel, entonces, podrían servirle como un recordatorio de a quién le pertenecía, la pelvis del Padre se acercó a su centro cada vez más errático y desesperado, todo su cuerpo rebota sobre su pene, el ardor en sus piernas mezclado con la fuerza de sus embestidas la estaba empujando a un punto sin retorno, al borde del límite, y fue justo ahí cuando lo sintió arrastrar una mano por su cuerpo sudoroso hasta llegar al centro de sus piernas para comenzar a frotar su botón de placer con su pulgar una y otra vez antes de ordenar entre dientes. 

—Correte para mí, paloma.

Y eso fue suficiente para que su orgasmo la atravesara como si se tratara de un resplandor celestial, todo su cuerpo tembló en sus brazos sintiendo como los espasmos de placer la hacían sentirse finalmente llena y satisfecha, su interior se apretó con fuerza alrededor de su miembro, aprisionándolo dentro de ella y cubriéndolo con su orgasmo, haciéndolo murmurar su nombre una y otra vez, como si se tratara de una oración divina.

Ni siquiera pudo evitar lloriquear por lo bajo cuando el Padre Seokjin besó suavemente su frente, sus mejillas y luego sus labios para salir de a poco de su interior, toda ella se sintió de nuevo vacía y buscó la mirada del Padre cuando se puso de pie frente a ella, sus ojos recorrieron su torso desnudo y cubierto de un sudor reluciente, siguiendo hasta su miembro aun duro y pesado que la hizo suspirar, y cuando lo escuchó hablar todo su cuerpo recibió una corriente eléctrica. 

—Ven aqui, paloma.— Ordenó con su voz ronca y profunda al mismo tiempo que su mano bombeaba de a poco su pene, y su mirada se oscureció aún más al ver lo rápido que T/n se arrodillo frente a él, como si hubiera querido esto desde un principio. 

Sus ojitos brillantes lo saludaron desde abajo, mirándolo con total adoracion cuando enredó sus dedos en su cabello alborotado para guiar su boca hacia su pelvis, gruñendo por lo bajo cuando la calidez de su boca y lengua envolvieron la punta de su pene; primero dándole una pequeña lamida, sonriendo cuando lo vio suspirar temblorosamente antes de tomar una porción completa en su boca sin dejar de mirarlo a los ojos. 

El Padre Seokjin echó su cabeza hacia atrás y sus labios se abrieron en gesto de puro placer mientras seguía sintiendo como los labios de su paloma tomaban todo de él cómo una buena niña, su respiración se cortó cuando la sintió elevar una de sus manos para envolverla en su grosor y comenzar a masajear las partes que no alcanzaba con su boca, y cuando abrió sus ojos mirando hacia abajo, la imagen fue lo mas caliente que alguna vez se llegó a imaginar, el agarre en su cabello se apretó con fuerza y su respiración se agitó sintiendo que estaba a punto de perderse, y su teoría fue cierta, porque cuando sintió a T/n lamer y chupar su uretra fue que se derramó en su boca con un audible gruñido. 

Le tomó unos segundos recuperarse de todo lo que acababa de pasar, sintiendo su pecho agitado y tratando de regular su respiración acelerada, y cuando finalmente miro hacia abajo ni siquiera pudo luchar contra la sonrisa de orgullo que se formó en su rostro, viendo sus ojitos brillantes y como unas gotas de su semen escurrían de la comisura de su labio, haciéndolo elevar su pulgar para reunirlas y volver a introducirlo en su boca, riendo entre dientes al sentir como su lengua lamía su pulgar degustando las últimas gotas hasta dejarlo limpio.

—Creo que tus pecados han sido perdonados.— Dijo suavemente despues de unos segundos, el olor a sexo se mezclaba con el incienso que se filtraba desde el santuario y sonrió al notar su mirada confundida.

—Pero Padre, si mis pecados han sido perdonados, ¿Por qué sigo pensando en ti? —T/n preguntó volviendo a su actitud inocente y volviendo a usar su título después de todo lo que había pasado, viéndolo reír por lo bajo mientras se inclinaba para estar a su nivel, sus mejillas fueron aplastadas con una de sus manos antes de recibir un febril beso en sus labios. 

—Bueno, quizás ahora yo soy el pecado con el que deberás cargar, paloma.

N/A: Buenoo hace calor, no? Si asi lo sientes será mejor que sigas al siguiente oneshot de este pequeño maratón pupi! Espero que este gustando mucho estas historias titis, las estaré leyendo y díganme cual está siendo su favorita. ♡ next

You used to work night shifts at a shitty bar, and when you met Taehyung, you still had that job. It sucked ass, but it paid well enough for you to deal with the less-than-enjoyable clientele. You had never been laid hands on, partly due to your own vigilance and the owner’s permission to beat anyone who attempted it, so you felt reasonably safe while you were on shift. In addition to that, you were on quite good terms with the security that manned the doors. All in all, while it wasn’t the most glamorous job, it was more than you could have asked for in some ways.

Taehyung had taken to picking you up after your shift if it was one that finished later than nine o’clock. It was a small thing, something you appreciated more than you pride allowed you to convey. It was something he just started to do one day, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and had been doing it since. You might have been worried about inconveniencing him, but you only had one or two shifts per week that finished after nine, and so you allowed him to continue and feed your guilty pleasure.

It was one such night that things erred outside of the routine you had set. Your bar had regulars as well as its fair share of new and one-time customers, and there was a man that had been coming in consistently for the past week or two. He never really approached the bar, tended to flag down someone walking past to order his drinks, and generally kept to himself at a table in the corner.

The one thing you always noticed, was that more often than not when you glanced his way, he would already be looking at you. Now, you like to think that you have quite the reasonable gut instinct, and rely on your intuition for a lot of things, but you never got a vibe from him that put him on your radar. You suppose that was your mistake.

By the time your shift had finished, you hadn’t seen him for a while and assumed he had already left for the night. The staff had a different entrance than the rest of the guests, and that is where you would exit and where Taehyung normally waited for you.

That night, you’d actually finished a little earlier than anticipated – it was quieter, and your boss knew you were studying and so let you go since he didn’t need that many people at the bar. You were grateful, but since you weren’t allowed phones out on shift you hadn’t gotten a chance to inform Taehyung yet about your extra half hour of free time.

When you stepped outside of the establishment, the man had been waiting for you.

It was an odd encounter, firstly because you hadn’t thought that he had drunk that much while inside. But when he gripped your arms and slammed you against the wall, his scruffy face looming closer, all you could smell was the heavy, harsh stench of alcohol.

Secondly, because you’d never picked up on the unbalanced nature of his gaze as you did then. Thirdly, because your gut had dropped beyond your feet and left a hollow groove in your abdomen that was rapidly pooling with dread.

“You’re out sooner than I expected,” he had said, the tips of his fingers digging harshly into the soft flesh of your biceps. His breath assaulted your nose in waves, stinging your nostrils in time with each word.  “Thought I’d have to wait a bit longer for you, sweet cheeks.”

You think that in that moment, you were mostly stunned. Stunned and scared, but yet to regain control of your larynx. Your body screamed to move but at the same time, fear had it locked in place.

When his hand began to move in a direction you would rather it didn’t, you managed to rip a word from your throat.

“Don’t!”

It was like regaining access to your vocal cords had freed your limbs from the stiffness overtaking them.

You brought your leg up, knee meeting the man’s gut in a way that held sickening promise.

The action freed you from his grasp, and you were quick to rip away from the wall, stumbling backwards as fast as your feet could carry you.  In the process, you practically threw yourself back into something that, if you didn’t know any better, you would have otherwise assumed to be a brick wall.

It had, in fact, been Taehyung.

The rage you saw on his angelic face in that moment had felt unnatural – it wasn’t a look directed at you, oh no. He was glaring at the man with such heat that you were genuinely surprised that two holes weren’t drilled into his body as a result.

The drunk was cradling his abdomen, and had yet to notice your friend behind you, despite the rage rolling off of him in such thick waves it was almost palpable on your tongue. He spat in your direction, lips curling back in a sneer.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.”

Something rippled through Taehyung’s body behind you, gone before you can fully decipher it.

“I don’t think she will,” he said, with a deadly calm that belied the fury scorching through his irises.

The man finally seemed to notice Taehyung, and while you couldn’t see his face, there must have been something there that terrified this drunk man. He stumbled back, expression crumpling in fear before being swept over with a look of thin anger.

Whatever was said after that was overtaken by the exhaustion that suddenly rushed through you like a tidal wave of heaviness and fatigue, your body sagging against Taehyung’s front. So tired you suddenly were, that you hardly even noticed it as a strong arm looped around your waist, both holding you up and cradling you against Taehyung.

You don’t actually remember what happened after that.

Your memory picks up only later that night, when you were sitting and laughing at something the two of you were watching. Every time you mind had strayed to what had happened earlier, it was as though it met a wall, fuzzy and without shape that would redirect your thoughts to something else.

For some reason, you simply let it go.

You’d almost completely forgotten about the incident when, a week later, you were preparing the bar for the night to come and caught sight of a familiar face on the television screen, framed by white and accompanied by a single word in bold, capitalised font.

‘MISSING’.

What an odd coincidence, you had thought. Perhaps after that night he had gone off and gotten himself into trouble.

…

Except now, you’re thinking it might not have been much of a coincidence at all.

//

Taehyung gives you a day before he begins to reach out.

You had locked yourself in your room upon returning to the hotel, dressing the gash over your collarbone in a daze and then proceeding to curl up under the covers, retreating from the world and the unfortunate reality you had just been confronted with.

You aren’t exactly sure how to process the events that happened in that church.

It would be one thing if you were just dealing with the effects of the supernatural forces themselves, but you have another matter contending for the title of ‘most shell-shocking revelation’.

Taehyung. Who is he – or rather, what is he?

Every time he flickers into your mind, a sharp pang rockets through your chest. Your heart feels heavy, aches as though it has been clenched in a vice, to the point it almost makes you physically sick. You suppose the shock you’re currently experiencing can do that to someone.

For the first night, you spent it huddled away, coming to terms with what happened. You were scared, trembling, and for a brief moment worried that whatever was in the church might have followed you back here. For some reason, you were comforted by the fact that Taehyung was there, feeling as though he would have stopped anything that attempted to tail you. But then, that thought just opened up a whole other can of worms and you remembered how he had looked in that darkened room, moonlight filtering over foreign features and an unfamiliar expression.

You slept with the lights on – that is, when you finally managed to doze off.

The next day, your mind feels a bit clearer, but your body is still heavy with fatigue. Still catching up after the stress of it all, you suppose. You shower and re-dress the wound on your chest before curling back up on top of the bed. There is a lot to think about, and no possible way of avoiding all the things that want to rush to mind.

Ghosts and demons are real. This is something that doesn’t surprise you all that much, considering you were the token believer of your duo. Part of what you’re doing now is really just coming to terms with the fear that you felt in that building. You don’t ever want to feel it again, but at the same time, you know that if you had been alone, it would have been inconceivably worse.

It takes you a day to process the fear.

The rest of the emotions ailing you are not so simple or set apart. You can identify confusion, for sure, as well as shock, mild apprehension. Betrayal, unfamiliar and difficult to make out amongst the rest but still present nonetheless.

You’re not sure why the revelation that he had been hiding something so huge from you aches the way it does. You’ve only known him for a small portion of your life, realistically. You’ve known people from your high school days longer than you’ve known him. But it hurts more than you ever could have expected.

To have feared him, hurts. To remember the look on his face as you pushed him away and fled, scared out of your mind, hurts. To be confused and unsure about a relationship that has always felt so natural, hurts.

Taehyung isn’t human. This revelation too, hurts. From what you saw, Taehyung is of the same ilk as all the beings that have harassed and terrorised you up until now. Another painful revelation.

You can overcome the instinctive fear his sudden appearance and presentation had elicited – you know, realistically, that Taehyung would never hurt you. But you also thought you ‘knew’ who he was, so what’s to say that he wasn’t tricking you about that, too?

Not believing the best of him, hurts.

When you first hear his soft tones cross the barrier of the hotel door, you freeze because you aren’t at all ready to see or even hear him, really.

“y/n…?” His tone is soft, seeking. A complete juxtaposition to the last time you’d seen him, rage rolling from his tightly-wound form and heating the air around him. You feel something patter in your chest. “Are you… are you alright in there?”

Something feels like it snaps in your chest, and all of a sudden your eyes sting and blur. You nestle further into the bed, pulling the blanket up as though to muffle his words, to hide away from them and the sensations they bring.

Faint shuffling reaches you from the other side of the door, and your head aches from the strain of keeping your tears at bay. Beneath the duvet feels stuffy and hot, but outside of it leaves you shivering. Still the shock, you suppose. You can’t bring yourself to answer the calls of your best friend.

Is he still your best friend? You want him to be, but how exactly do you work around this?!

He seeks your acknowledgement through the door a few more times over the day before you catch him shuffling away. He is only retreating to the next room over, but still you can’t help your tearful journey into sleep that night.

The next day brings with it slightly more persistence.

“y/n, please open the door… I just want to see that you’re okay.” There is an edge in his tone that you’ve never heard there before, something unfamiliar and almost… desperate. It’s like he fears you will never let him in again.

It makes you feel terrible. You want to see him, you miss him already, but you’re not ready yet to face him after the events that transpired. It makes you frustrated about as much as it makes you sad. Why can’t you just get over it? Taehyung is some big-shot demon, no big deal.

Except it kind of is a big deal.

“y/n, baby girl, please… at least say something so I know you’re alright.”

You’re angry, you realise. Why didn’t he tell you? He could have! He knows you believe in shit like that. This just makes you angrier, though, because it makes you realise with an incredible amount of embarrassment that he knew this whole time ghosts and whatnot are real, and spent your time together essentially making a fool out of you.

The door creaks as though a hand is placed against it, and there is a soft thud. Taehyung’s voice is so soft, so… fragile, that you almost break and leave your cocoon. “Please, open the door…”

You don’t, and after a short while he retreats once more. There are a myriad of muffled noises that come from the other side of the wall.

Alternatively, you feel guilty. How can you be angry at him for not telling you, when if he did you probably wouldn’t have even believed him at first? Well, you suppose that’s the catch as to why you’re upset – ‘at first’. You’re sure that Taehyung has a number of tricks up his sleeve that would open your eyes to the truth of him. Hell, he could probably reduce the door separating you to a pile of rubble if he so wishes. He is being considerate of you, you realise.

It makes you feel worse, and infinitely more confused.

Is it all that confusing, though? You’ve sorted through your feelings one by one, and felt them through to their completion. Perhaps your fuzzy head and throbbing sinuses, as a result of crying, are to blame.

When Taehyung next comes seeking an answer from you, you realise that now you’re just being stubborn. You can’t make yourself move to the door and remove the single barrier between you.

“If… if you need anything, please let me know. I’ve brought some food, please eat something… and if you want to talk, then…”

Are you scared? Scared of being rejected? That’s ridiculous, you reason, and deep down you know it is. But it’s such a huge shift in the dynamic of your relationship that you’re terrified of what follows now. It doesn’t help that you’re so tired, so fatigued. It’s almost odd how your body is reacting to the stress and shock, but you suppose it’s never had to deal with anything like this before. Never on this magnitude.

The last you heard of Taehyung before slipping into a dazed nap that afternoon, is the soft scrape of fingers against wood and breathy, trembling pleas.

“y/n, open the—open the door please. Please open the door. You don’t have to let me in, I just want—I need to… to see you.”

The last thought you have before slipping into a heavy, hazy sleep is that he doesn’t sound anything like himself.

Your heart aches.

//

When you awake, you really don’t feel good. The window showcases the absence of light outside, and a glance to your phone reveals it’s just past midnight.

You really, really don’t feel right.

You’re due for a shower, you realise with a horrified sniff, and hope that will solve your icky head. When you stand though, you almost topple straight over. It’s quite humiliating, all things considered. You lay down for a few days and suddenly lose all the strength in your legs? Pathetic.

Emotionally, you feel a lot better. Physically? You’re not sure you want to answer that.

You move into the attached bathroom, taking a bathrobe with you and shutting the door in your wake.

||

Taehyung almost has to drag himself to your room this time, the accursed object at its threshold proving more of an effort to reach each time he makes the short trek. A wall has never felt so thick, a door so tall. His limbs tingle, full to the brim with pins and needles.

He hasn’t gone this long without seeing you, without being by your side since he met you. His body and soul had grown used to the proximity, so much so that now he feels as though strength leaves him with each breath.

This isn’t normal. He shouldn’t have played around so long without bonding you. If he doesn’t see you again soon, he might actually—

He doesn’t even want to think about it.

His fingers seek the grooves they have worn into the wood of the hotel room door, forehead thudding against it a moment later. A deep breath rattles through him.

He is beginning to feel incredibly unsettled.

When you first locked yourself away, he had experienced it as a buzzing itch, just under his skin but impossible to quell and always increasing in intensity. When he was outside your door, it would fade a little bit, and when he would give you space and retreat back to his room, it would overcome him in a horrible spell that made him want to curl up and set his skin on fire.

Never in his life had he ever felt anything like it. Then again, it’s only in the past few years that he had found you – and that’s almost just the span of a blink for how long he has roamed.

“y/n,” he breathes, voice almost breaking. Increasingly he is sounding less and less like himself, but he can’t find it in himself to care if it gets you to open the door and take him back. He feels a bit like he has been in a train wreck. “Please open the door, please… Can we—can we not be like this anymore? I want to see you again, please, please open the door, y/n…”

The idea that you might hate him, might want nothing to do with him and never want to see him again, sends the beast lying dormant within him into a frenzy. He needs to see you again, he needs it so badly. He took it for granted, this short time you’ve been in his life. He’s fucked it up, and now he’s scared, he’s so fucking scared.

Taehyung isn’t used to being scared.

He has never been a fan of uncertainty.

It is something that he left behind with his mortality, something he hadn’t felt since – until he met you. You kind of threw everything out of wack. He would have hated anyone else for it, but couldn’t bring himself to fill even the tip of his pinky with dislike for you. He was hardwired to protect you, long for you, adore you. Your existence and the presence of your soul is the only thing that tethers him in the whole expanse of the universe.

So, understandably, your unresponsiveness has him in quite a state.

He doesn’t really expect an answer, not really. At this point, he is just coming over to check in and listen for your heartbeat through the door. Knowing you’re alive will have to be enough for now. He just hopes he doesn’t waste away before you consider seeing him again.

He wishes he was joking, but right now it feels like a very real possibility.

His next shaky breath stops cold in his lungs, though – he can’t hear it. Your heartbeat, soft as it might be, should still be audible to him through the door. He can’t hear it.

Despite his better judgement (which is hanging on for dear life by a thread inside of him currently, mind you), he begins to panic. He is sure that he scorched that entire church and cleansed anything paranormal in a ten kilometre radius from the face of the earth, but still he can’t help but worry. What if something escaped and followed you back? Are you alive, or wounded and bleeding out? Or have you been snatched from under his very nose while he was in a weakened state.

He has broken the door down before he even realises it, and when he does he simply decides to deal with it later. The board is in chunks and pieces that litter the floor – he probably could have been a bit more gentle. He’ll deal with it later.

Taehyung is a hop, skip and step away from full-blown frenzy when he enters the room and something catches in his ear.

The sound of water streaming, irregular drops against the floor as the flow is disrupted. You’re just in the shower, finishing up if the squeak of taps turning is anything to go by. The sounds in the other room (behind another of those accursed doors), fade into silence that is broken only by the occasional drip. He strains to hear anything from you, a breath, a gasp, a sigh, your heartbeat.

When you let out a huff, he just about collapses against the door, sliding down until his behind reaches the floor. He feels as though he could cry, and he is seriously considering just for the catharsis of it all.

“y/n,” His voice comes out as a whimper, the back of his head thudding against the bathroom door. “Please tell me you’re in there…”

Your breath halts for a moment beyond the door, before rushing out in one go.

“Tae?”

It’s the first he has heard of your voice, of you, in almost three days. He feels something squeeze in his chest, close to bursting. Heat slips down his cheeks in uneven trails. He ignores it. There is a dam that bursts in his chest and releases a torrent up his throat.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, y/n.” His fingers dig into the roughness of the cheap hotel carpet, his head banging back against the door as he turns his face heavenward and screws his eyes shut. His chest shudders and aches so unbearably that he struggles to take in breaths between his words. They come out in a jumbled, frantic slurry. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please talk to me, let me explain. It was never meant to happen like this, n-never meant to… you were never meant to hurt like this. I—”

You don’t say anything, probably taking it all in. Soft sounds reach his ears from the other side of the wood, but nothing that alarms him.

“I should have protected you, I’m meant to protect you, but I didn’t even do that and—and now it’s all fucked up. Please, y/n, please let me explain. Please don’t make me leave when you come out.”

He sounds almost hysterical, really. The only thing that halts the words in the place is the sound of something peeling, adhesive being pulled from skin, and then a soft gasp that filters to his ears.

“y-y/n?”

The scent reaches him mere moments later, right as he hears her breathing begin to pick up. He feels sick to the stomach, bile rising in his throat – he knows that scent, the stench of rot and death. He scrambles to his feet, panicking, and slams his fist against the door.

“y/n, open the door!”

His gut screams at him to tear it from its hinges, and for once he listens. Just in time to hear the cacophony of items tumbling to the floor and the stutter of your heartbeat. He wrenches the door out of the way and lurches into the bathroom, arms outstretched before he can even think to do it.

One hand slips beneath the back of your head, preventing it from a nasty contact with the floor, and the other beneath your knees. He falls to his own as he yanks you from the air, heart bounding in a terrified gallop in his chest.

The source of that stench is clear to see, the gash he had almost forgotten you had on your chest. He should have known better than to leave you untreated, but he was so focused on giving you space…

He needs to treat the effects of the demon’s poison ichor before the symptoms take you any further.

//

When you come to, it somehow feels like only moments and a whole eternity have passed at the same time.

Your head feels considerably less cluttered, less fuzzy and filled with smoke and haze, which is a definite win. Your body is less heavy with fatigue, too. The only thing that concerns you is your inability to tell how much time has passed since you were last awake.

Which was when….

Ah. It comes back to you in a sudden rush, and your hand flies to your chest. The scratchy material of a bandage greats your fingertips, but you don’t feel the same feverish ache beneath it as you did the other days. Considering it was a demon that sliced you up, you probably should have been a little more diligent. Not like you were preoccupied with other things, though.

Your fingers inch the slightest bit to the side and brush against something smooth and warm, which gives you start and finally prompts you into taking in the rest of your surroundings. You realise quickly why you feel so safe and warm.

You’re cradled in Taehyung’s arms.

He has his hand pressed over the brunt of the wound, and now that you’re paying attention and a little more awake, you become aware of the odd sensation stemming from that spot. Warmth and coolness, tangling and swirling but never cancelling the other out. You’re not sure exactly what Taehyung is doing, but it’s almost ticklish.

Out of habit, your wanton eyes drift up to the familiar planes of Taehyung’s face. His eyes are closed, long lashes brushing delicately against his cheekbones in a way that contrasts the slight furrow of his brows. His full lips are twisted slightly downwards at the corners.  You have to blink as you observe him to double check you’re seeing right.

Handsome as always he might be, but the way he is right now… he looks like an absolute mess. Beneath his eyes is darker than normal, cheeks a little more gaunt. His hair, normally silken and perfectly styled, is wild and unkempt and hangs over his face. There is tension in his shoulders that you’re not used to seeing, let alone feeling. You can count on one hand the amount of times Taehyung has held you to him like this.  

His hand moves from your chest, dragging over your skin lightly until his palm cups your cheek, and his eyes flutter open. There is a flicker of surprise that ghosts through them, but it disappears quickly and is replaced by a look that is so tender, so full of concern and worry that is makes your chest ache tremendously. He has never looked at you like that, no one has ever looked at you like that. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone so gently it’s as though he is worried that any more pressure would have you shattering beneath his touch.

Your tongue feels like it has turned to stone in your mouth, you can only lay there and look at him. It works out for the time being because you have no idea what to say, anyway.

For whatever reason, it seems that Taehyung has taken your time apart even more badly than you did.

It makes you feel stupid and selfish for being so stubborn, but you also know that you needed time to come to terms with what you experienced, and what you now know.

You swear that his eyes begin to glisten as he gazes at you, thumb tracing that same path over your skin. When you let loose a heavier breath than normal, he clutches you closer, like he’s scared you’ll wrench away.

You feel something give way in your chest, and the words come bubbling out before you can stop them.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Taehyung blinks, taken aback. A lock of ashen hair tumbles from behind his ear and joins others in framing his face. It is a spectacularly disarming expression that he wears.

“Of course.” The low baritone is familiar to you, but the ghost of fear hiding in the shape of each sound is not. “Of course, I was. I just… I didn’t… I thought I had more time. I didn’t know how to do it.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and when you don’t speak up, he continues. “I was scared that it would drive you away. Learning what I am.”

With his skin still against yours, the odd sensation remains swirling around the wound on your chest. You take a guess and assume that he is healing the gash somehow. You’re not sure you want to know the details right now.

Despite yourself, and the situation, you manage to huff. “Kind of insulting, if you ask me.”

It makes the corner of his mouth tug up, but it’s not enough to bring him fully out of whatever mood he has entered. It was a weak attempt at lightening the general mood between you, anyway. You can do better.

“But… I can’t blame you. I wish you had told me, but I don’t fault you for not knowing how.”

He presses his lips together, the way you do when you’re trying to stop your chin from wobbling. You swear you catch a tear slip down his cheek. Since when was the enigmatic Casanova Taehyung such a crybaby?!

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, clenching his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

The pet name sends a flutter through your chest, same as always. It’s kind of reassuring to know that your reactions to him remain unchanged.

He adjusts, dipping his head down to press soft, trembling lips to the location of your wound before you even realise he has moved. When he lifts his head again and meets your gaze, there is unbearable heat in your cheeks.

“For this, too, I’m so sorry. I should have been more aware, more vigilant. There should never be a time that you get hurt while I’m there beside you. I am… so fucking sorry. You’re meant to be safe with me. “

You hope he can’t tell how your heart has begun to race, but given what he is you don’t exactly have high hopes.

He sniffles, swallowing heavily. You watch the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, because at the end of the day you’re still the same girl you were at the start of this venture, madly in love with your attractive best friend.

‘Demon’ is a new addition to that description you’ve yet to include, but even so you’re surprisingly unbothered. Perhaps something in your brain is broken.

Slowly, the odd sensation that his touch is eliciting fades, and he looks almost regretful as he pulls his hand away from your cheek. Immediately, you miss the contact.

“I healed it,” he murmurs, averting his gaze. “I got rid of the blight that accompanied the wound, too. You should feel a lot better. I would advise resting for another day at least, though.”

You nod, and for a few moments silence fills the space between you. You’re not sure what to do next. As though attempting to pre-emptively flee any incoming awkwardness, you shift out of Taehyung’s hold and begin to move away.

You don’t expect the sudden grasp of his hand on your wrist.

“Wait!”

When you turn and look at him, he has a look like he didn’t even mean to say anything, the kind of face you make when words just come tumbling out of their own accord. Bashful, another expression you’ve never seen on his face but you are now bearing witness to.

“Can you – could you… could I just—please… will you stay with me tonight? I don’t… I don’t want to go back to how it feels without you yet… Please.”

You feel like everything inside your chest crumples like paper at his words. You don’t even blink before you move back to his side. As soon as you’re within distance, he reaches his arms out like a baby seeking to be cuddled. He takes you into his arms, pulling you close and twisting the two of you down onto the bed in one smooth movement that somehow doesn’t jostle you. You are pressed against his chest so that almost every part of you is touching a part of him, and he only nestles closer. His fingers drum once against your side, and the light in the room flickers out. A shuddering sigh escapes him.

It’s stupid, how easily you feel yourself drifting off. In your defence, it’s been a big couple of days. You decide it’s not something to beat yourself up about, and instead push your burning face into Taehyung’s chest.

You’re going to enjoy the closeness while you can.

The rest of the things you want to say remain unsaid.

//

When you wake the next morning, you find that all of your limbs are entangled and trapped in some way.

Taehyung is still passed out next to you, looking a lot better than he did last night. It’s almost unbearable, the urge to reach out and brush his cheek. You might have fallen victim to it if your arms weren’t otherwise restricted.

Thoughts weigh heavy upon your mind, and words rest on your tongue, inches away from crossing your lips. There’s a lot you want to ask, want to know. But at the same time, what purpose would it serve for you to find it all out now? Is there anything else pressing that you need to know? The big secret is out, you’ve come to terms with it. Mostly.

Taehyung is a demon, probably a high-ranking one. What more is there to say?

Well, there is something more you’d like to clarify. As it is right now, though, you don’t exactly have the balls to ask it.

When he wakes, he seems panicked before he really sees you, feels you in his hold – only then, he visibly relaxes. You sort of stay in place, gazing at each other for a while. Neither of you wants to break the moment, but it’s an inevitability that one of you will have to initiate.

You spend the day skirting around each other.

He can’t seem to bring himself to venture more than five metres away, and you’re glad for the company. You might have come to terms with what he is, but you’re also still a little paranoid of being alone. The fact that it’s daylight helps a fair bit, but only enough that your lingering fears don’t make it to the forefront of your mind.

The two of you pack up your things and equipment in an odd silence that is somehow neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Today is the last day you will be spending in this hotel – you need to begin on the long road trip home, or you’ll be thrown completely out of schedule.

The car ride is slightly more bearable, if only because he focuses on driving and you have the opportunity to sort through your thoughts. Your gash is healed, and your fingers find themselves drifting absent-mindedly to trace over the raised skin that is left in its wake.

You’d been avoiding thinking about it because it still made you shudder and recoil, but now that you’re on the road and there is some distance between you, the town, and that god-forsaken church, you allow yourself to consider the events that happened in the last room.

Namely, the things that the demon said to Taehyung after he burst in the room.

He had referred to him as lord, which is admittedly intimidating, a little scary, and very hot. You’re not really in control of that last opinion. You can only assume from this that Taehyung has quite a high rank amongst the depraved in the underworld.

You’re unsure whether that is a good thing or a bad thing.

The demon also said another thing of interest, that rings even now in your ears.

“I would not have touched the lord’s human if I had known!”

It hadn’t just said it once – the demon had referred to you as ‘Taehyung’s human’ twice. Which, you consider might just be how they refer to humans that are in the vicinity of a particular demon. It’s possible. But you can’t help the niggling feeling that there is a little more too it. Whether it is the way it was said, the fear in the demon’s eyes once it realised a connection between you and Taehyung, or the way Taehyung’s own features had shifted in response.

You’re dying to know what exactly it means.

But even in the silence of the car ride, amongst the odd question you throw his way, you can’t bring yourself to voice it.

As though he can tell there is a bigger question that you’re sitting on, Taehyung seems a little nervous.

You drive the remainder of the day, stopping only around nine o’clock to find a place to rest for the night. Taehyung looks like he would rather shoot himself in the foot than ask you to suffer a sleep in the car while he continues to drive.

You appreciate it, even if he is a bit dramatic.

He books two adjacent rooms without being asked, almost painfully aware of the boundaries still in place between the two of you. You wish, not for the first time, that you were someone brave enough to cross that boundary on your own, to initiate that venture into uncharted territory.

You’re not brave enough, and when you both go your separate ways that night and Taehyung whispers a soft, ‘goodnight’, you simply echo it back.

The room is dark as you ditch your clothes and climb into the bed. As you sink into the mattress and pull the duvet over your shoulder, you can’t help but feel that you’ve lost the opportunity to ask about it and ruined a possibility, ruined something.

You try not to think about it as you fall asleep.

||

You can’t have been under for more than a few hours when something disrupts you in the middle of your REM cycle.

Your body tilts slightly, responding to a dip in the mattress that makes your eye pop open. There, caught in the act of climbing onto the bed and illuminated by moonlight at his back, is a wide-eyed Taehyung.

He freezes, bashful and embarrassed. He offers up an explanation before you even have a chance to ask.

“I couldn’t sleep, being so far away from you…” He recoils, retreats a bit, taking some of his weight off the bed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Tae.”

His name comes out of nowhere, and it takes you a second to realise that it was you who said it. He startles as it enters the air, wide eyes locking onto your own.

He is vulnerable, in this moment. You can feel it, intrinsically. You can’t help yourself – you feel like it has to be now, so you ask him ‘why’.

“Why can’t you sleep when you’re away from me?” Your voice is soft and the haze of sleep is barely cleared from your head, but maybe that’s why you actually have the guts to ask. “It has to do with what the demon said in the church, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung can only hold his breath, eyes wide at the clearly unexpected line of questioning. He looks like he might retreat further for a moment, but instead allows himself to rest on the edge of the bed. He brings a hand up to card through his hair, leaving it tussled and wild. Something great and big and uncontrollable fills your chest.

“What am I to you, Taehyung?”

“Everything,” he answers quietly, eyes sliding to hold your own captive in their tawny depths. “You’re everything, to me. There will never be anyone else in existence, who can be what you are to me.”

You’re so fucking confused, but his words ignite something deep within you – you feel tears spring to your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“For creatures like me,” Taehyung lets loose a shaky breath. When he continues, his voice is still a sultry whisper that belies the current topic of conversation. “We only get one chance. After we’re born, reborn, there is only one thing that exists as an absolute weakness for us. We only get one chance to have something truly good.”

“Would you ever hurt me?” You know the answer even as you ask it.

“No,” he breathes immediately, moving closer and holding a hand out as though to cup your cheek. He doesn’t go the whole way, his hand hovering just shy of your skin like he is wondering if he is allowed to touch it. “No. I cannot even conceive the idea of it.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, instinctively attempting to stop the trembling of your chin before you can even think to do so. His eyes burn into your own, setting your insides aflame and taking over the entirety of your being with the slow intensity of pouring lava. Your arms thrum with the urge to reach for him, to bring him close, to touch him.

You don’t understand, but even as you think that you realise it’s a lie. There is something inside of you that has always reacted to him, always longed and yearned to be near him, with him. You do understand, just as much as you don’t.

There are a number of things you want to know, a number of ways you could word your next question. You decide on one and go with it.

“The demon referred to me as ‘your’ human. Is it a spell, some sort of magick? Is that why ever since I have met you, the only person I have ever been able to think about, was you? Even as you frolicked about, sharing a bed with someone different every other night, loving and leaving everyone but me?”

You suck in a trembling breath, closing your eyes as you voice your real question.

“What do you want with me, Taehyung?”

In the wake of your words, it is still, and it is completely silent. You don’t even hear Taehyung breathe. You don’t dare open your eyes, terrified of what you will see playing across your best friend’s face if you do. This ghost hunt has been the kind of experience that really makes you say ‘now or never’, and that is pretty much exactly what you did.

The bed creaks ever so slightly, the first sound to break the silence. You keep your eyes tightly shut, trying desperately not to cry as every possible unsavoury outcome filters through your head.

A featherlight touch graces your cheeks, and it’s a miracle you don’t flinch. It’s a familiar touch though, and your body is familiar with the electricity that transfers into you as a result. Your nerves tingle awake in response.

“I want… I want to be near you, be with you always.” He sounds almost sad as he speaks, reverent, but doesn’t stop the flow once it has started to gush forth. “I want to be everything to you, like you are to me. I want to hold you, to touch you, to admire you.”

“I want to be with you wholly, completely. I don’t want to seek distractions anymore, because I’m scared that if I spend that minute more with you I’ll snap and ruin everything we have.”

Your eyes have opened before you realised it, and at the sight of the mist gathering over his eyes your heart gives a great, painful TWANG.

“I want to be good to you, so good you will think that is all I was ever made to be. I-I want… I just want…” He swallows, eyes never leaving your own. They are pools of emotion you never thought you would witness in him. “I want to show you that I am a being capable of love, and that I love you with all my soul, however unholy it may be.”

He’s scared, you realise. Scared of you hearing all this and, having seen what you have seen, rejecting him. You saw what a mess he was after not being near you for a few days, like it had physically taken a toll on him. Could he even handle a full-blown rejection?

It’s fortunate he wouldn’t have to find out.

“Tae,” you breathe, lifting your own hand to brush your fingertips against his jaw.  “Can I see you, Tae? The real you?”

His breath stutters, eyes widening. They search your own for a second, fearful of the worst, but must soon find what they’re looking for because they flutter closed and he rakes in a deep breath.

The transformation ripples over him like silk shifting in the wind.

Fluidly, you witness his features change. Inky horns stem from his head, the hue of his hair shifting and markings inking themselves onto the skin beneath his eyes. There are similar ones that rise to the surface of his arms, neck and chest too, you observe. With a single snap, two leathery wings unfurl from his shoulders. His eyes shift in colour to the dual tones of sunset, catching your own before he wrenches them shut and turns his face away slightly. The sight of him, the true him, feels very much like gazing upon a faerie that has just removed their glamour.

He is beautiful, though.

He always has been, but now its truer, raw and uncut. His nose and jaw are sharper, the corner of his eyes more defined, his ears elongated. His teeth are more like fangs.

Last time you saw him like this, you had been terrified. However, seeing him again in this form confirms what you suspected all along.

You weren’t ever scared of him.

The other demon and the ghosts in that damn church? Absolutely. But you had never been truly scared of Taehyung. You don’t know if you’re capable.

It’s instinctive. Natural.

Just as it is when you reach and place a hand either side of his face. His eyes shoot open, shock apparent in their slitted depths.

“Will you stay with me, Taehyung?”

His teeth sink into the plump flesh of his bottom lip, eyes searching the depths of your own.

“You love me?”

He is nodding, already to your previous question and now doubly so to this one.

Something giddy stirs in your belly at the intensity beginning to build behind his gaze. You brush your thumbs across his cheeks and his wings flutter, blocking out the moonlight for a brief second.

“Show me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He swoops down, arms coming to frame either side of your head. There is a brief moment where he pauses, holding your gaze, before the weight of it becomes to heavy for him and he allows himself to descend the rest of the way.

When his lips meet yours, you feel as though you could cry.

There aren’t fireworks, nothing explodes, but instead it is as though something buried long ago comes to life inside of you, unfurling and growing, blooming into something magnificent. Familiar.

You can’t even summon to mind all the other times you imagined kissing Taehyung, because nothing could compare. You are swept up into the movement of his lips against yours, the caress of his tongue that lures out your own. Your heart is doing somersaults in your chest, so full of love and adoration that it’s fit to burst.

When his mouth leaves yours and you can breathe again, it isn’t for long before his lips burn a searing path along your jaw.

“Stay with me, Tae. Please, stay.”

He shudders against you, teeth nicking against your skin and eliciting a soft sound of your own. Marks blossom across the expanse of your neck and shoulder in the wake of his affection, his body shifting to hover more closely above your own. One of his knees slides between your own, causing a round of giddy butterflies to erupt in your abdomen. A spark of pleasure shoots across your skin when you grind against him ever so slightly.

“Please, don’t ever throw me away,” he murmurs into your skin between sinful presses of satin lips, so softly it is hardly heard over the harsh sound of your own breath. “Please take all of me, love all of me.”

You don’t think you were meant to hear it, but you did, and it makes you feel as though you’re soaring through a dizzying abyss . Taehyung lifts his head ever so slightly, longer red-tinted hair brushing against the skin of your neck.

“Is it okay to have you, baby girl?”

You’re nodding before you even realise your head is moving.

After that, Taehyung moves with no more hesitation. His fingers are gentle and seeking but still firm as they find the edge of your pyjamas and rid your body of them. You are left only in your boyleg underwear, but can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed of being bare in front of him.

No, instead you enjoy the way his eyes drink you in, slitted pupils dilating as they rake over each curve and line of your body. He shifts, putting most of his weight on his knees as he leans back and moves his hands. A large palm cups the weight of your breast, long fingers belonging to the other hand drag down your body, caressing the swell of your hips and stomach.

“I adore you,” he says plainly, lashes lowering. “Do you still want me to show you?”

You nod, and he smiles. It has a hint of the Taehyung you know in it, the way the corner of his lips tug up more on one side than the other. The heat of his gaze makes you dizzy as he leans down, thumb brushing over the stiffening peak of your nipple, and his mouth returns to melting a path down your neck.

Your own hands busy themselves in his hair, around his shoulders. His entire body shudders, wings and all, when you accidentally drag your nail over one of his horns. He levels you with a look, eyes burning through you in warning, but says nothing and returns to his task. You get the message anyway. You might want to refrain from touching those for now.

He moves with dedication, mapping out every inch of skin you allow him to have. When his lips cross the threshold of your most recent scar, he halts and presses his mouth there a little longer. The area around it is laved with such tender affection that you can’t help but moan softly. His wings flutter in response to your sounds, answering to their call.

His thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple between them and tug, almost distracting you from the way his other hand trails lower, and lower. Its arrival at your moistened core is timed perfectly with the wanton buck of your hips that Taehyung’s ministrations elicits.

“Tae!” the gasp tears from you unwittingly as he latches his lips around your free peak, pulling it into his mouth with heat and fervour. You cant help the whine that climbs from your throat, hips rolling against his fingers as they find the bundle of nerves they had been seeking. A finger slides over your clothed mound on either side of your clit, the combination of friction and pressure pulling a sound from deep within you.

It is surreal, to be touched by him like this.

… Let alone in these circumstances.

He wants to take it slow, you can tell from the restrained, controlled way that he is moving, but you can visibly see it as every noise you make has him coming a little more undone. His fangs scrape against your nipple, holding it between his teeth in such a way that has little sparks of pain mixing with the buzz of pleasure. Your fingers entwine in his hair.

Your chest isn’t left alone for a single second, but that doesn’t mean that he is distracted from his task a little lower. Oh, no – he is very much attentive there, too.

Something like a growl mixed with a groan vibrates against your chest as his fingers slip lower and discover the moisture that has drenched your underwear. There isn’t room for shame inside of you, only excitement. You roll against his hand, gasping as he responds with a circled rubbed tantalisingly slow around your clit.  

He teases you for a while, like that. Nipping, sucking, licking over your chest, giving each breast equal attention; all the while, his fingers slide over your clothed core, dampening it further with your arousal. Pressure begins to build low in your abdomen, your hips building their own rhythm at the mercy of his wrist and fingers.

He is alarmingly in tune with your thoughts and desires, because right as you begin to yearn for the touch of him against your actual skin, you are rid of your underwear. You’re not actually sure where they go, or how, all you know is that now he is pressing just above your clit, sliding the hood over the bundle of nerves in such a way that has you letting out a loud, wanton cry. He hums in response, and repeats the action.

Your knees are beginning to feel a little weak.

Curious fingers are replaced by a thumb as they seek to venture lower, sliding along your slit and gathering the moisture there until they arrive at your entrance, which is already aching in anticipation. You want him, you want him so badly. You don’t even have to speak for him to pick up on it.

Taehyung lets out the softest chuckle – one that you swear sounds a little cocky – and allows two fingers to dip into your entrance.

You can’t help the moan that pours out of you, and after seeing his visceral reaction to it you’re not sure you want to. He teases you for a moment, but at the pleading look delivered in your gaze, he must decide to be merciful. He slides those fingers in completely, easily aided by the slick of your arousal, and allows them to curl, pressing against the front of your walls.

You don’t know how he gets that spot on the very first try, but he does, and you’re left dealing with the repercussions. A loud cry escapes you, legs quaking as a shot of pleasure, hot and liquefied, enters your veins. You feel dizzy, but so, so good.

“Feels good huh, baby girl?” Taehyung’s low baritone is as sinful as ever. Flecks of adoration weave into his words. “That’s what we want.”

You nod dazedly, a little lost for words at the moment, and he returns to his motions with renewed fervour. You have hardly a moment to take in breath before he begins to fuck you with his fingers. Each sink of his digits into your heat has them curling, your legs shaking, hips rolling, and his name tumbling from your tongue. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Your pleasure is building almost embarrassingly fast, but Taehyung is pretty much making it his mission to slingshot you to completion, it seems. You allow yourself to get carried away, letting loose a string of moans and curses as he adds another finger, then another. His hand on your breast is replaced by his mouth and all you can do is throw your head back and whine for the sensations it provides.

“Come on, baby girl,” he breathes against your skin, nipping in between words and suckling at the end of each sentence. “Don’t you wanna cum? I want to feel you finish around my fingers, wanna see your pretty face while you cum with my name on your lips. Will you cum for me, baby girl?”

“Yes,” you answer, breath stuttering in your lungs as he fucks you that bit faster, that bit harder with his fingers. Your thighs are clenching around his arm but it does nothing to halt his pace.  “Yes, yes, yes – please, Tae.”

You don’t need to plead much – he gives it to you the second you ask for it. His teeth sink into the swell of your breast, fingers stuffing you to the brim and stimulating that spot at just the right time as his thumb rolls your clit. Your cry is loud and unchecked, something you might be embarrassed about later when you leave the hotel, but for now it’s the only thing to tether you to the moment as your pleasure reaches its peak and you cum, twitching and tensing against Taehyung’s firm form.

He groans, drinking in each soft moan and whine, each writhe and shift of your body as you ride your high on his fingers, the digits still leisurely fucking into you.

Still dazed and swimming through the haze of sensations, you don’t realise Taehyung has removed his fingers and moved his face downwards until the first stroke of his tongue against your heat.

You jerk, whining loudly, and the only reason you don’t wriggle away to catch a breather is because his arms loop around your shaking thighs, holding you in place with vice-like strength.

He is gentle with you, to begin with, easing you down from your high as he laps up your arousal. You go to cover your face for embarrassment before he delivers a soft, swift smack to your hip in warning. You allow your hands to fall back down, shifting onto your elbows and biting your lip.

He delivers broad strokes over your folds, gathering your essence on his tongue and letting out a groan as he laps it up. It isn’t long, an alarmingly short time really, before you begin to build once more. One of your hands shoots and tangles in his hair, needing to ground yourself as he dips his tongue between your folds, seeking, searching. You can’t contain your cries anymore when he rolls the muscle over your clit, suckling the bundle of nerves into his mouth. You can hardly hear the sound of him licking and sucking over yourself.

He seems to like the sounds his action elicits, despite its volume, because he repeats it again, and again, and again, until you’re dizzy with the fire and pleasure swimming through your limbs and weighing in your head. He eats you out happily, sunset eyes watching your each and every move, drinking in your expressions, the lust in your eyes.

Its when his teeth graze your clit that you have to pump the breaks – because it feels too good, if anything. When you finish again, you want it to be in a different way. You want it to be with him.

“Wanna cum with you,” you manage to articulate, feeling his breath catch. “Please fuck me, Tae. I need it. Need you.”

For a moment, the air grows taut between you, your breath held in suspense. Then, the tension snaps and Taehyung is shifting in a flash, groaning loudly. His hips push your legs apart as he climbs up your body, the straining bulge of his cock grinding against you through the thin material of his sweats.

“You need me?” he echoes, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. Your entire body is flushed, aching. You want him inside of you, and you know he can tell from the way you’re looking at him, but he wants to hear it out loud. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, immediately.

“Do you love me?” he asks, tone low and heady, throwing your earlier question back at you.

You don’t even have to think before you answer him.

“Yes.”

A smile erupts on his face then, beautiful and brilliant and humbling in its intensity. He might have been borne of the depravity of the underworld, but right now he glows with the radiance of the heavens. Surreal, you surmise. Truly surreal and absolutely magnetic. He draws you into him once more.

When his lips take yours this time, there is less room for patience, and leisure. His mouth is hot, scorching against your own as he pulls your lip between his teeth. When you mirror the action, you are rewarded with a low, low groan that seems to come from the very pits of his being.

He shifts for a moment, ridding himself of his pants, and allows his hand to drift down to your core. He swears with a moan, tilting his head back as though he is searching the heavens for answers.

“Fuck, you’re still so wet. You’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you, baby girl?”

You’re nodding, clutching him, whatever it takes to get him inside of you and quell the ache. You reach down, slipping your hand over the toned expanse of his stomach, the defined line of his hips, until you reach the throbbing heat of his cock.

He lets out a hiss as your fingers wrap around his girth, using the precum seeping from the tip to ease the slide of your hand. His arms tremble either side of you, head dipping as his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open to let loose a gasp.

The wings looming behind him shiver and tuck in closer, the ends fluttering like the nerves are going haywire.

“I will,” you breathe in answer to his earlier question. “You’re gonna fill me up so good, Tae. I want you so bad.”

For as practiced as he is, your words almost seem to be his undoing. His mouth shuts, teeth gnashing together audibly, and he has to pull your hand from his member so he can get into position. He slips his arms behind and under each of your legs, hands seeking your own and pressing them to the bed with intertwined fingers.

The tip of his weeping cock teases against your entrance and you whine, shifting your hips in vain efforts to get closer. He holds himself away only for a moment, gazing down at you with an expression so indescribable yet profound that for the first time since you started this, you’re distracted by an ache in your chest.

“I will be good to you,” he says, his words ringing as his bond. “As you have been to me. I love you, y/n.”

Then he is angling his hips, and with his member aligned with your entrance he is splitting you open and sinking in. He dips his head down, mouthing at your neck as you throw your head backwards and reveal the expanse of it to him. You’re not sure what words are escaping from your tongue, but you doubt they make sense. Taehyung hardly seems to mind – in fact, you dare say the pleasurable incoherence you are driven to only works to turn him on.

A few strokes are languid, smooth, slower for you to adjust. As soon as he feels you rolling your hips, bucking in a seeking manner against him, he releases that restraint and begins to fuck you a little more earnestly.

For a moment, you see stars.

Taehyung himself is something to write home about, but what he hides between his legs…? You want to keep that all to yourself. He fills you just the way you crave, tip dragging against your walls and hitting so deep, at such an angle that it has you keening with each stroke.

As he leans forward, your legs are pushed closer to your body, and this only intensifies your pleasure as his cock drives deeper into your pussy. The crescendo you abandoned earlier has returned and is building again with a vengeance. You don’t think the noises have stopped tumbling from your mouth for a while.

Each snap of his hips results in a soft gasp from his own lips between murmured praise, and a bolt of pleasure that burns up your spine. Good, it’s so good, so, so good. Your pussy aches so good, he fills you better than you could have wanted.

Better than you imagined.

You can’t help the roll of your hips as you join his rhythm, the sensations too strong for you resist falling prey to them. He groans as he feels you clench and undulate around him, brows furrowing.

“Careful, baby girl,” he pants, sucking a breath in through his teeth as you roll your hips again.  “Don’t you want this to last?”

“I just want you,” you say, before you can stop it. Though his hips don’t stop in their movement, his eyes snap open and whip to you, almost… shocked. You suppose it was a little sweet and out of place, but you’ve already said it now and you’re back to moaning so what else can you do?

“Fuck, “he groans, rolling his head back and stretching the strong column of his neck. “You’re so good, so perfect. Are you close, baby girl?”

You nod, freeing a hand to reach up and twist your fingers into his hair. You use this grip to pull his head down so he can hear you between your gasping moans and whines.

“Yeah,” you say, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Wanna cum with you. Wanna feel you fill me up, Tae.”

His hips stutter in their movement and for a moment, you fear you might have broken him. You learn you feared for nothing in the next second though, when his hips return to motion full force and snap into you almost ferociously. Fingers slip between your legs, finding your clit with ease and playing with it the way he learned you like. You almost scream out as pleasure roils through you with startling intensity, and you find yourself on the precipice.

“Tae! ‘M gonna cum, T-Tae—”

The sound that leaves him almost sounds like a snarl, and it seems you have pushed him just as close to the edge. With one more roll of your clit and snap of his hips into yours, you’re tumbling into your high. Your whole body grows rigid, arching into his, and the resulting tightness of your core has him finishing right after with a strained cry. His head dips, teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder, as he slams his cock into you one more time before you feel it swell and throb. Heat spills into you, and you can’t help the delirious moan that leaves you in response.

You don’t have the words to describe the experience, especially since you haven’t finished, well, experiencing it yet.

Taehyung sags against you, wings fluttering before they come to rest against the bed, curling around your bodies protectively. It warms you, makes something tingle in your chest. The demon is kissing against your skin where his teeth broke your flesh, murmuring apologies. You’re surprisingly unbothered – you didn’t really feel it in the moment, and it doesn’t hurt too much now, so you don’t really care. You do have a question, though.

“Did you just mark me?” you ask, still struggling to catch your breath. Taehyung freezes. “As in, in a way that carries meaning for you?”

The few sheepish seconds of silence before he answers tell you enough. “… Perhaps.”

It’s hard, trying not to smile. He’s cute.  “Can I mark you back?”

He grows rigid, and you wonder why for a moment before you feel his cock throb inside you.

You can’t help your incredulous laugh. “Are you serious?”

Taehyung pulls back, pouting defensively. “I’m a demon, y/n. I’m almost more beast than human. You expect me not to react when you say hot shit like that?”

You can’t help the laugh that tumbles forth at his response, and his expression breaks to make way for a smile.

“Perhaps you should teach me about all the differences I should be aware of, hm?”

Taehyung’s wings flutter, a gleam entering his sunset eyes as he leans down to brush his lips against your own.

“I suppose we have time.”

The name was not unfamiliar. His face was plastered on every wall even in small towns, the law desperate to finally catch him. He was one of America's most wanted outlaws and since he had left his former gang he raged through the country like a hurricane; stealing, drinking, fighting, shooting, cheating, murdering, robbing. He had steadily increased the price on his head with every crime he commited and every bounty hunter had at one point been after him. The money was promising and experienced bounty hunters tended to underestimate his skills because of his age. He was fairly young for being such a successful outlaw, all on his own. Along with a few other criminals he was considered a 'legendary bounty'. Bounty hunters who could turn in such a bounty were well respected and feared amongst their peers, and the reward money was a nice addition. But Jeon Jungkook outsmarted and outshot all of them. Most of the hunters were dead or had given up.

You were after him once, too. It was when he was still with his old gang. They had been in a gang fight with another gang and were vunerable, the timing was perfect. But as you almost had him, he slipped through your fingers, jumping off the bridge and landing in the shallow waters. You had thought he had died but never found his corpse, only to read in a newspaper a few days later that he and his gang had robbed a stagecoach near a big city. Since then, his bounty had more than tripled. And if you were being honest, you were quite impressed. But now that you had had time to prepare and train, you were convinced you had a chance at catching him. Maybe you were being too optimistic and too full of yourself, but how would you ever find out if you didn't try?

"Are you sure it's a good idea? He does not hesitate to kill bounty hunters and he surely learned a few new things too. That kid is too skilled for his own good.", Jin wore a worried expression. The two of you had become something similar to friends over the past months since you usually collected the bounties in this tiny town because there was less competition this far away from the big city. "At least catch all the easier targets first so you are not leaving us behind with a bunch of criminals roaming the streets."

"Jin, you're the sheriff. You can handle an outlaw or two."

"But you do it so well. Also, who would we spend the tax money on? If there was no bounty money to pay, we would surely be rich in a few months, we can't have that!", he joked, fake worry in his voice. Then, he got serious again, stepping closer to you, taking the poster from your hands and inspecting it. "Be careful. I mean it. He is dangerous and I would feel lonely here without you bringing trouble into this small town."

"I'll be back, don't worry.", you nodded at him, smiling reassuringly but he didn't seem convinced.

"When will you leave? Where is he right now?"

"I'll pack my things and be off. There has been news he was sighted near Blackwater last. I'll be starting my search there.", you untied your horse from the post, stuffing the poster Jin had given you back into your bag. You mounted the animal, tipped your hat to Jin who smiled at you worriedly but nodded back and urged the animal under you forwards.

The ride to Blackwater had taken one and a half days. You had made camp outside of Armadillo to rest before you began your hunt. You needed all the energy you could possibly get, so a good night's rest was indispencable.

You woke up early, the sun had barely risen above the horizon. The weak sun warmed your chilled skin as you kicked dirt into the still glowing embers of your dying campfire. The air was fresh and you felt confident; you'd find him today and he wouldn't glide through your fingers again.

Spurring your horse on, you watched as the city in the distance grew closer with each stride your horse took. You slowed the animal down once you reached the cobbled street, looking into the dark alleyways, suspicious looking individuals meeting your gaze and snarling. They recognized bounty hunters when they saw them. But you were not here because of them. No, you were after someone way more valuable.

Stopping next to the sheriffs office, you tied your horse to the post outside and stepped into the office, your spurs clinking with every step. You halted in front of the main desk, the sheriff and his deputy looking you up and down.

"I'm after Jeon Jungkook.", you said, slapping his bounty poster onto the table. "I was told he was seen here recently, any idea where he was headed?"

The sheriff and deputy sent each other a look before the older gentleman breathed in deeply. "It is true. He was here recently, caused a bar fight and left once everyone was fighting, then, robbed the general store while everyone was occupied. Shot a few fellars on his way out of town." The sheriff took the paper, looked at Jungkook's picture before scoffing and letting the piece of paper fall back onto the table. "No offence, but you won't be able to turn him in. The best bounty hunters have been after him and ended up dying or giving up. I don't mean any harm when I say this but... maybe you bit off more than you can chew. He's not your everyday thief." You wanted to scoff and list all the outlaws you had turned in before but you knew better than to let yourself be agigated by his words.

"Whether or not I can handle him is my business. You want him caught or not? I just need all the information you got, the rest is not your problem.", you said calmy, one hand resting on your hip.

The sheriff hesitated for a bit before opening one of the drawers in the desk and pulling out a map. He flattened it out on the table and turned it so you could see well.

"We think he headed south into the canyons to lay low for a while. There have been no reports of him in other cities so he probably is still there. He might not be alone, we don't know for sure. Riding out there is a ticket straight to hell, ma'am."

You didn't wait for him to finish. You just tipped your head as a way of thanking him before turning your back and exiting the building. Not a minute longer was wasted in the town. You urged your horse to a gallop down the dusty road.

It was noon when you reached the canyons. The sun was beating down onto you and you were thankful for your hat that was providing enough shadow for your face to be safe from the scorching sunlight.

You stopped your horse on a ledge that hung over the valley of the canyons. Then in the distance you spotted a trail of smoke rising into the sky. A camp.

You shouldered your rifle before urging your horse on. The walls of the canyon were so high they were intimidating. The trails you rode through were narrow and once or twice your stirrup scraped against the dusty orange stone. You couldn't see much of the sky, so you weren't sure if you were even riding in the right direction.

You were as quiet as you possibly could, but each little clinking or thudding echoed through the canyon. You decided that it was best to leave your horse behind and continue on foot. It was quieter and you could escape more easily if you had to.

You dismounted on a wider spot, the stone walls further away from you and making you feel less claustophobic. You grabbed a few more bullets from your saddlebag along with your bag in case you needed water or were injured.

Patting your horse's neck one last time and hoping you would be able to return to it, you continued through the canyon, your steps still echoing but a lot quieter than your horse's hooves had been.

When you smelled burnt wood you stuck close to the stone walls, making sure to peek before charging the open area. You peeked into the camp but there was no sign of a human being. You carefully walked into the camp, watching as the fire was still burning. Someone had been here not too long ago. You looked around and noticed bags and a bedroll on the ground. Someone had definitely been here shortly before you, and they would probably be returning soon. You kneeled down to open one of the bags when suddenly a gunshot rang through the canyon, the bullet missing you by an inch.

You immediately sprung into action, ducking behind a wooden crate and firing a few shots into the direction the bullet had come from. It had been a revolver bullet so the attacker was close to you, had probably sneaked up behind you.

It was silent for a while before a bullet hit the crate, sending splinters flying. Shit, you needed a safer cover. But there was nothing here. The attacker was just waiting for you to move, you knew it. You needed a plan.

You pulled your waterskin from your bag and opened it up. If you could throw it into the fire, there would be enough steam for you to move to a safer position, right? You peeked around the crate and immideately a bullet hit the edge of the crate, close to your face.

Shit, if you moved your arm from the cover they would probably shoot it clean off. You were trapped and if your attacker decided he had waited long enough, he could just start blasting the crate to kill you. You looked through your bag only finding a few things that didn't help you out now. Unless...

You fished for the red neckerchief and threw it next to the crate, careful to not reveal your hands or arms. Instantly a few shots were fired, hitting the neckerchief until it was in shreds. That's when you heard the familiar click of a gun being reloaded. You didn't waste a second and threw the waterskin into the flames, successfully creating thick puffs of steam that blocked your attacker's view.

You quickly moved into a crevice in the stonewall, barely wide enough to fit your body but at least safer than the wooden crate. Bullets were fired at you, but you had been faster, and they had no clear view. Once the steam disappeared, you watched carefully. The attacker didn't know where you were, and you watched as the broad figure move from behind the canyon wall to a boulder a little closer to you. You acted instantly, shooting a few bullets with your revolver, even though your heart skipped a beat. You had only seen him shortly but you knew his figure.

You had found him. Jeon Jungkook.

You heard a low hiss so you must've gotten him somewhere. You wanted to squeal in victory when he propped himself up on the boulder and fired a few rounds of bullets. The stone wall held off each bullet but little pieces of stone splintered off the surface and created thick dust which stung in your eyes. But instead of cowering away you took the rifle from your back, aimed at the figures head and placed your hand on the trigger. He wasn't careful enough. You could kill him right then and there, but your ego got the better of you. If you'd bring him in alive, he would be worth a lot more and you wanted to see the look of defeat on his face when you bound his wrists and turned him into the sheriff's office as they placed him behind bars.

So instead of his head you aimed at his gun and pulled the trigger, successfully blasting it out of his hand. He ducked as soon as the shot was fired but he wasn't fast enough. It was silent after that, no shots from him as you waited for his next move.

"That's it. You've got me."

You perked up at his smooth voice. He sounded like he was amused.

"You can kill me.", he said, slowly raising from behind the boulder. His hands were in the air to show you he was unarmed.

"But you'd miss out on a lot of money. They want to see me hang, they'd pay a lot to see that. If I'm dead though... there won't be much of a hanging going on. They will be disappointed. Less money."

"You think I'm stupid enough to fall for your trap, Jeon?", you hissed, rifle trained on his head, ready to shoot if you needed to. You moved away from your cover slowly, showing him you had the upper hand now.

"Well, seeing how you only shot my gun and not my head, I assume you are either a terrible, terrible shot or you are after a great deal of money.", he wore a smug smile on his face but you didn't miss the droplets of sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. That's when you saw the trail of blood on his side. That's where you had gotten him earlier, you thought to yourself.

"But since I know you can shoot well, I know it's the latter. Last time we met, you almost had me, and now you finally finished what you started."

You felt uneasy. He remembered you? How in the hell, would he remember you when he had to deal with countless of bounty hunters almost every day? What made you special enough for him to remember?

Maybe this was a trick, you thought. He was riling you up on purpose.

You had only been distracted for half a second when suddenly you were hit in the head by a hard item. You stumbled back, the rifle falling from your hands as you clutches your now bleeding forehead.

That fucker had thrown his gun!

He charged at you while you were occupied and pressed you to the ground beneath him. He pulled a knife out of his boot and moved to plunge it into your chest but you kneed him into his back, making him topple over you so you could roll out beneath him, an elbow to his back. He grunted as he spun around, slicing the knife through the air, missing your arm by an inch.

"You have gotten better.", he snickered through gritted teeth.

"So have you.", you answered, grabbing a hand full of dust and throwing it into his face. He clawed at his eyes as you finally distanced yourself from him again. You grabbed your revolver from your gunbelt and pointed it at him, ready to shoot when he suddenly pulled on the neckerchief you were standing on, making you topple over as your feet lost their footing. Before he could reach you though, you were back on your feet, your gun nowhere to be found. Shit.

A cut into your arm made you cry out sharply. The cut wasn't too deep but it began bleeding quickly. "You son of a bitch!"

You grabbed his wrist before he could bring down the blade again. Your nails dug into his dirtied skin, making him grit his teeth. He was stronger than you, but you took advantage of the situation when you kneed him into the stomach. He huffed loudly and the knife fell from his hand. You caught it and chucked it far away. "You have a lot of nerves coming here!", he sneered and grabbed your neck, pushing you down. You moved your head quickly, biting down on his bleeding hand, tasting the iron on your tongue.

That's when you decided to take off. If you made it to your horse in time, you could get another gun or flee. But you were so disoriented, you didn't know which way you had come from. Jungkook recovered behind you, so you decided to just run, no matter what direction.

You ran as fast as you could but your could hear his fast footsteps behind you, catching up with you.

You scrambled up a canyon wall that had been carved into a stair-like formation by the waters a few million years ago. Jungkook followed you without a problem. His stamina was way better than yours.

Once you were on top of the stone platform and you could overlook the maze like crevices, Jungkook caught up to you.

The two of you were standing in front of each other. Chests heaving.

"This ends here. One of us is going to die. And if I think about it, It might as well be you."

He lurched forward grabbing your body and pressing you into the ground. He raised a fist, wanting to knock you out but you moved your head to the side, his fist meeting the stone beneath you. You tried pushing him off of you and ended up changing positions with him, straddling him, before he tried pushing you down again.

But as he grabbed your hips, pushing you off of his stomach, your back didn't meet the hard ground. It was met with breezy nothingness as your body slipped off the edge. His body was inevitable pulled down with yours, your hands clamped down on his shirt. Your mouth was open in a scream as you fell but no noises came out.

It felt like you were falling for hours, hands still clinging onto Jungkook's larger frame.

Hitting the ground was painless and everything went black not even a second later.

Your eyes peeled open slowly. There was dust, dried blood, sweat and tears. You could barely see.

Your nose was running and you didn't kow if it was tears or blood.

How in god's name were you alive? Were you even alive?

You carefully moved your arms under you, pushing yourself up from the ground. Your head was throbbing painfully and little stones dug into your palms as you looked around.

Jungkook's body laid a few feet away, head slumped against his chest as he sat up against the canyon wall. He had probably woken up and moved to sit up against it before falling unconscious again.

You groaned as you pushed yourself to your feet, moving over to his body. You gently pushed against his legs with your boot, trying to wake him... or check if he was still alive. He looked horrible. Clothes ragged and dusty all over. His once jet black hair was matted and coated with brownish dust. You probably didn't look any better.

You kicked him again, a little harsher this time and a low groan escaped his throat as he lifted his head slightly. He struggled to open his eyes, the sun blinding him as he looked up at you.

"I was hoping you had died.", he rasped.

"Well, it seems like we're both still alive."

"Not for much longer.", he scoffed bitterly. That's when you took in your surroundings for the first time. The two of you were trapped inside a crevice in the canyon, barely wide enough for a whole body to lay flat, it was a few metres long in length. The more devastating part was that there was no exit or way up. The two of you were trapped down here. "Shit.", you murmored.

"If you still want to kill me, do it now. At least I won't have to starve to death.", he said, gasping as he sat up straighter against the stone wall.

"No-... There has to be a way out. We could-... climb up?"

"And how are you going to do that? The stone is too smooth, there are no ledges to grip onto. And even if you did make it up a few metres, if you fell, you'd only injure yourself more."

"Oh, so you just want to give up and die?", you scoffed.

"Unless you have a realistic escape plan, then yes, that's the only thing left for us to do."

You felt your head throb again painfully. You should have listened to Jin. This had been a dumb idea. Anyone smarter than you would've just given up after escaping with your life last time but no- you just had to try it again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Ah- fuck-" Your gaze dropped to Jungkook whose face was scrunched up in pain as he moved slightly. A hand was pressed to his side where you had shot him earlier. You didn't know how bad the wound was but it couldn't have been too deep considering he was still alive and not bleeding out. "I can't believe you really got me. I was slacking."

How he felt the need to talk to you was beyond you. You were his enemy but still - he was talking to you like you were an old aquaintance. You wanted to feel hatred towards him but it seemed like every bit of anger had left you. There was no point in fighting anyway - you'd both die down here.

"Let me see.", you forced out, kneeling down next to the man and trying to move his hand away from the injury. He didn't stop you but he seemed taken aback, eyes glued to yours as you pulled the button up shirt from his pants, careful to not irritate the wound too much. Once you had clear view of the gash, you inspected it. The bullet had only grazed him but it still left a decent gash on his side, skin ripped with ragged edges. It would take some time to heal and would probably leave a nasty scar, but what did it matter anyway? Neither of you would be alive then. How much you wished for one of those new devices you had read about in the newspaper - a telephone? Was that what they were called?

You went to grab something from your bag but it was no longer laying against you hip. Had it ripped off while fighting Jungkook? You looked around and saw the brown bag lying a few metres away. Thank god! Your bag was your ticket for living at least a few days longer. Dried meat and a small emergency flask of water could grant you enough time to think about all the times you had fucked up in your life or what desicions led you to be trapped here. Great.

You stood up to grab it and Jungkook followed your figure with curious eyes. He looked younger now that you really took him in. A boyish gleam in his eyes, though matted because of the circumstances. He was definitely not ugly either. If he had chosen a different life, you might have even bedded him.

What nonsense. You couldn't change a thing about the past and that was that. Thinking of all the possibilities if things had been different was wasted time.

You returned to Jungkooks side, fishing for a herb from the inside of your bag. You stuck it in your mouth, chewing it up into a paste before spitting it onto your fingers. "I know I'll die anyway but I'd appreciate it if you didn't give me an infection."

You just rolled your eyes as you applied the paste to the wound making him hiss slightly. You needed something to bandage the wound with but your neckerchief had been left behind at Jungkook's camp and was ripped apart anyway. You noticed that he was wearing one around his neck and went to untie it, hands combing through his slightly long black hair to get the knot loose. You didn't realize how close you were to him until you felt his warm breath on your own face. His eyes were locked to yours as he searched for something in them. Your brows furrowed and you quickly pulled back, unfolding the neckerchief and roling it into a bandage to tie around his waist. The fabric was barely long enough to actually be tied together but you managed, even though you must have hurt hime quite a bit in the process.

"Didn't take you to be such a whiny boy.", you said jokingly.

He didn't answer, only inspecting the bandage around his middle. You opened up the waterskin and poured it over his face earning a displeased grunt from Jungkook. You wiped the dirt, grime and blood from his face with your hands. "I could have done that myself, you know?" You poured a little water into your hands, cleaning your own face, being careful to only use as little water as possible.

"Why are you bandaging me up? Afraid you'll go to hell if you don't start doing nice things now?", he asked after some time, hairs falling into his eyes as he rested his head against the stone wall behind him. You had decided to sit opposite of him, sitting cross legged.

The truth was, you didn't even know the answer to his question. Why did you treat his wound? It was pointless anyway.

"Well, I guess in the face of death, people start to act strangely.", you answered, head turned away from him. Jungkook chuckled and licked his dry lips, throat feeling uncomfortably dry too.

"A shame that it has to end like this.", he then said,"I was wishing to escape you one more time. Bruising your ego a bit, you know?" He was laughing to himself, swallowing the bit of saliva his body could muster up.

"It looked more like you were trying to get me to meet my maker.", you answered, looking over to him, your lips curved slightly upwards now.

"You were better than I anticipated and I was taken aback. Didn't want to die, to be honest. You left me no choice."

You scoffed, the smile now wiped off your face. "Yeah right. You had the choice to not be a fucking outlaw in the first place!"

"Did I really?", he spat sourly.

You went silent then, watching as his brows furrowed.

"I had noone when I was younger. Should I have moped around the streets looking through the trashcans for food like the other street kids?" You knew who Jungkook was talking about. Homeless children were no rare scene, especially in big cities like Saint Denise. There was no furture for them outside of crime and gangs.

"When Namjoon found me, I was at the brink of starvation. He took me in and taught me everything I know about guns, horses and money. I truly did not have a choice if I wanted to survive."

He swallowed thickly before continuing.

"Besides, Namjoon always taught me how fucked up this so called society is. We just wanted to be free, to not be bound by laws and power-hungry people. Can you really blame us for that? Politicians and lawmen are not any different from us outlaws, they just have a badge that excuses every crime they commit against minorities."

"That's no excuse for the things you did. I am not here to try to make you regret your past but killing innocent folk is not any better than they are."

"We never intended to kill innocent people. I won't lie and say I have never killed anyone innocent but that was never our goal. We were just after the rich and powerful men. It doesn't matter now anyway. I left the gang a long while ago."

You didn't say anything after that, head resting back against the warm stone and watching as the sky slowly turned different shades of orange, red and pink.

You rumaged through your bag before feeling the cool glass against your fingers and pulling the whiskey bottle out. Jungkook looked amused as you took a big swig, handing it to him afterwards. He took the bottle gratefully and took a few big swigs, face scrunching up in distaste but continuing to down the liquid. When the bottle left his lips they were coated in the smooth liquid, glistening in the golden sunlight. He looked pretty. And that wasn't the booze talking... not yet at least.

"What about you? You had to listen to me whining about my shitty childhood, and now I'll listen to your tragic story."

"What makes you think I had a tragic childhood?", you teased, taking the whiskey from him and nipping at the bottle.

"Oh, please!", he huffed, "You are a bounty hunter and you want to tell me that you had a nice childhood? I have heard way better lies than that." You laughed at that, passing the bottle back to him.

"Well, my story is not as dark and dramatic as yours. I just wanted to catch bad guys and get decent money for it. They don't allow women to join the lawmen and even if they did, I guess we have one thing in common; I don't want to have anything to do with those people. I know their system is corrupt, only made to fit rich white men."

Jungkook seemed surprised. You were on different sides, you were supposed to represent the law and everything Jungkook hated but you were agreeing with him? He barely knew anyone that wasn't an outlaw or a beggar that thought like this.

He clutched the bottle tighter and nipped at it again, letting the liquid burn his throat. Maybe, just maybe, if things were different, if you two were to get out of here, you could start again? Get to know each other as people and not as enemies. It was foolish to think of anything in the future, seeing how you were doomed down here, but he wanted to know you. You were pretty, he wasn't blind. If the circumstances had been different he would have loved to bed you.

He shook his head, squeezing one hand into his pocket and pulling out a tiny photograph. You scooted closer until you were sitting next to him, taking the whiskey bottle that was almost empty now. It hadn't been full before, but still.

"This was the gang.", Jungkook explained, passing the photo to you. You looked at the faces, all smiling at the camera. You spotted Jungkook in the middle next to a tall man who had proudly swung an arm over his shoulder. If you didn't know any better you would have assumed that this was just a group of friends getting their picture taken. "That's namjoon, right?", you said and pointed to the tall male. Jungkook nodded, smiling widely. "And that's Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Hoseok and Soekjin." You laughed as you spotted Jin, a wide smile on his lips as he stood on the other side of Jungkook.

Wait a damn minute... wait. a. minute.

"Jin??", you gasped and Jungkook looked at you questioningly. "How is Jin in this picture? He- He's a good friend of mine and he's also a sheriff!"

"Oh, so that's where he went.", Jungkook mumbled to himself but you heard him loud and clear. You waited for him to explain.

"Jin was part of our gang but he mostly just tried to get the law off our back. He taught me a lot about who I am. Unfortunately, he left the gang one year before I did. Said he couldn't identify himself with the gang anymore... with what we had become. It's true, we were more ghosts than people by the end. I'm no saint - I know that - but I guess I never truly knew how much of a lowlife I was until Jin left. He was partly the reason I left a year later. How is he doing? How do you know him?"

"Well, I'd say he's pretty well. He is the sheriff after all, that gets you some decent money. I turned a lot of the targets in that he hung up on the bounty wall. We started chatting and then went out drinking sometimes."

"Oh, so you two are-...?", Jungkook gestured with his hands, trying to bring across his point without actually saying anything, hoping you got what he was trying to ask.

"No! God, no!", you laughed and Jungkook perked up at the pleasant sound. "Just friends. Collegues of sorts. But now it makes a lot of sense why he was trying to convince me to not go after you. He also took down your poster a few times. He always said it was because you were too damgerous and he wanted to protect reckless bounty hunters." You laughed. Imagining Jin in a gang of outlaws, hah! You would have to squeeze some details out of him!

Your face fell instantly. You couldn't. Because you wouldn't see him again. Maybe, just maybe Jin would come to look for you in a few days and find your rotting corpse in this hell hole. You chuckled bitterly to yourself.

"How much is it now?", Jungkook asked.

You took the bounty poster out of the bag and handed it to him. It was a little ragged now but still readable.

"Wow that's a new record. At least they didn't fuck up my face again with an ugly sketch." You smiled again as you watched him read his poster. "I'm sorry that you won't be getting the money now. But at least you managed to eliminate another bad guy. You'll surely be a hero then, right? People only idolize the dead. Like painters, you know? Maybe they'll write a campfire song about the bounty huntress that killed an outlaw by starving both herself and him to death in a canyon." You laughed and slapped his stomach lightly, already having forgotten about his wound. He hissed and moved away from the touch and you panicked. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry, I forgot!"

"It's fine.", he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Wait let me see if I disturbed the wound."

You pulled up his shirt, only now noticing the hard muscles that adorned his abdomen. You tried to lift the bandage but the shirt kept falling over your hands. "Take this shit, it's annoying!", you said impatiently. Instead of just holding the shirt up though, he pulled it off over his head, exposing his upper body. You didn't mean to stare but his body was carved by the gods themselves. You tore your gaze away from him and back to the wound. It seemed to be okay, no fresh blood or other substances leaking from it. "Okay, I think everything is fine."

"So you had me remove my shirt for your own entertainment, or-..."

You felt your cheeks getting warm as he teased you, holding your gaze.

"You-! You were the one to remove it! I told you to hold it up!"

"Well you did seem to enjoy it though."

You grabbed the shirt that was laying in his lap and threw it into his face, earning a low chuckle. He grabbed your arm and pulled you next to him again, taking the whiskey and downing the rest of it before turning his head to you. You looked up at his eyes, your own eyes flickering to his lips every so often. They looked plush and pink now, so kissable. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding your senses.

You went to turn away but Jungkook took your chin carefully, angling your face up so you had to look at him before placing his lips on yours in a sweet kiss.

You were surprised, shocked even, but you didn't pull away. His kiss was intoxicating and he tasted to good even though there was a hint of whiskey still on his lips.

He pulled back a few seconds later, looking for something in your eyes. "If your bounty hunter friends saw you right now what would they say?", he teased, voice barely a whisper.

"I think they would grant me one last nice thing before I die.", you whispered back, leaning back into Jungkook and capturing his lips in a more heated kiss. His tongue slid against your mouth and you opened it instantly, letting his greedy tongue explore your wet mouth. You moaned as Jungkook grabbed your hips, pulling you into his lap so he didn't have to crane his neck to the side. You fit into his lap like you belonged there, like you were meant to sit there at all times.

What on earth were you doing?

But did it matter? If you were to die soon, you'd at least be able to boast to the demons of hell that you had fucked Jeon Jungkook.

You ground yourself into his lap and he moaned, almost desperately, as your crotch prerssed against his growing hardness. You felt blood rush to your middle, throbbing in need, at the feeling of his hardening member. He pawed at your shirt, pulling it from your pants and pulling it off your body swiftly. His lips found your neck and colarbones in an instant and didn't miss the opportunity to mark you. He was sucking and biting your skin as you threw your head back, hands tangled into the long curly strands in the back of his head. You kept grinding into his crotch, wanting to hear him moan and hiss.

"Fuck-... If you keep going at it like that, I'll cum in my pants."

"We better get them off then.", you answered, feeling for the buttons and popping them open one after the other. You palmed his hardness through his pants before trying to slide them down further, which wasn't possible due to him sitting on the ground. Instead, Jungkook grabbed his shirt that was by his side, threw it on the ground behind you and gently lowered your back onto it, making sure to not hurt you. Once he was towering over you, you slid his pants down further along with his underwear, grabbing the throbbing and hot member. The skin was silky smooth and precum was already leaking from the red tip. You spat into your hand to make the glide easier and started stroking him. Jungkook dropped his head to your shoulder, groaning as you jerked him off with your soft hands. It had been some time since Jungkook had actually been with someone, so he was trying his hardest to not cum right then and there.

He occupied himself with releasing your breasts from your breastband, simply ripping it open, not patient enough to unravel it slowly. His mouth found your breasts as he kissed them all over, tongue flicking the hardened nubs. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter as he kissed and licked your body. God, he probably didn't even know what he was doing to you. Oblivious to the mess that coated the inside of your underwear.

You let go of his hardness as he kissed lower and lower, reaching your pants and unbottoning them slowly. He kissed each newly revealed part of skin before pulling off your boots and then the rest of your pants along with your underwear.

"Fuck. I have barely started and you are already soaking wet.", he groaned, lips exploring your hips and thighs. He was growing impatient, you could sense the urgeness in his kisses and touches.

His hands glided up your body again, reaching your breasts and squeezing them gently. He places open mouthed kisses against your mouth, licking into it hungrily. His wet, hot length was pressed against you as he settled in between your legs. "Fuck, you are so pretty, wanted to fuck you since last time you tried to catch me." You groaned at his confession. So he truly did remember you from last time you were trying to kill him.

"Wondered what you'd look like beneath me instead of behind a gun. Screaming my name in esctasy and not anger."

He kissed you gently before grabbing his length and running the silky head through your wet folds, passing by your clit and making you clench around nothingness. "Wanna make you cum. Cry out my name and cling to my body."

You moaned at his dirty words, feeling his head press into your entrance. "You want it?", he asked, kissing your lips and biting the lower one. "Fuck yes, Jungkook. Fuck me, please!"

He didn't waste any longer and burried himself into you deeply. Both of you groaned as he pushed into you until you couldn't take more of him. He was balls deep in you, your walls pulsing around him as he moved slightly. He gave you time to adjust to his size before starting a rythm that felt right for him. You locked your legs behind his hips, pushing him deeper into you with weath thrust. He was setting your body on fire, his length hitting all the right spots inside you.

You moaned and pulled his face into the crook of your neck, holding him so close you didn't know where his body ended and yours began. You could feel tiny stones digging into your back through the shirt he had laid down but you couldn't care less. He was panting next to your ear, skin burning up against you as he fastened his rythm. "Oh fuck- fuck. You feel so good around me. Such a tight little cunt-" You couldn't even respond because you were lost in the feeling of him pushing against your cervix with every thrust. It made you feel so full of him.

He hoisted his body onto his forearm, muscles flexing and giving you a nice view. He took two fingers and brought them to your mouth, making you suck on them. When he was satisfied with your work, he pulled them out, snaking the two digits between your bodies and finally findiny your clit. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan when he drew circles onto the sensitive nub. You clenched around him tightly and he grunted in response. With his fingers working away at your clit, you were barreling towards your orgasm. You wanted to tell him how good he made you feel, how the drag of his cock set your walls on fire and how you were close, so fucking close. But instead only breathy moans left your throat, gripping at his body tightly, as if you were afraid to slip over the edge because you knew it would be overwhelming.

"You- shit, you keep getting tighter. I'm not gonna last long with this tight cunt.", he announced, his rhythm faltering.

"Jungkook- fuck, I'm gonna-", you were silenced as you tipped over the edge, the pleasure almost too much for you to handle. You clenched hard around him, making it almost impossible for Jungkook to keep fucking into you. But he only needed two more thrusts before he was following you into his own high. A throaty groan left him, as he pressed himself into you as far as he could, pulling out only a bit before slamming back in, his release filling you up.

The both of you slowly calmed down, panting heavily against each other's mouths. He kissed you passionatley, moving to your jawline and down your throat. When he pulled back and looked at you, you gently moved the dark strands of sweaty hair out of his face. His eyes were locked with yours and you couldn't help but feel the warmth in your stomach as he looked down at you so lovingly. He proceeded to pull out, his release leaking out of you.

You helped each other dress. No word was spoken, but it wasn't awkward. Both of you still feeling the afterglow of an amazing orgasm.

That's when you head the sounds of hooves on hard stone. Jungkook quickly pulled your body to his, shielding you from the figure that leaned over the edge and peered down at the two of you.

"What in the world-... at least you're alive, I guess."

"Soekjin!?"

Jin had managed to pull Jungkook and you out with the lasso he had brought. The rough rope left slight burns on your skin but you figured it was better than starving to death down there.

While you were reliefed to see your friend, you were also confused as to how he had found you or why he was here in the first place.

"I wanted to help you catch he criminal!", Jin quickly said, grabbing onto Jungkook as if he hadn't casually been standing next to him the entire time. It made sense though. Jin didn't know that you knew of his history with the young outlaw.

"Jin drop the act. I wanna know why exactly you never told me that you were in a gang?!", you said, drinking from Jin's water bottle greedily. He choked on nothing and quickly turned to Jungkook who sheepishly grinned back at him. His ears turned six shades redder as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I- I thought it wouldn't bee such a good idea to tell a bounty hunter I was part of Jeon's gang. Who knows what you'd have done to me!", he joked. You scoffed.

"But seriously Hyung, what were you doing out here?", Jungkook piped up.

"Well both of my friends were gonna rip each other apart, couldn't let that happen right?", he laughed before suddenly frowning deeply. "Wait a minute... Wait a goddamn minute! Why the hell aren't the two of you ripping each other apart?"

"Believe me, we were, before we fell down into the ravine."

Jin eyed you suspiciously as he took note of your develished states... from all the fighting, of course!

He didn't question it any further.

The three of you proceed to get your horse that you had left behind as it was currently grazing peacefully. You were sat behind the saddle because Jungkook insisted on taking the reigns. Your arms were holding onto his tiny waist, feeling his muscles through his shirt. He was going to be the death of you. You were careful not to touch his injury, though it could not have been hurting too bad considering how he had fucked you earlier.

Jin had suggested bringing Jungkook to town and treating his wounds before he got going again. You had insited that you should get the fivethousand dollar since you technically were about to turn Jungkook in. Jin had protested to say the least.

As you were halfway there, Jungkook stopped the horse suddenly, making Jin, who had been riding ahead, stop as well and looking over his shoulder questioningly. If you had been able to see Jungkook's face you might have been able to predict his next move but since you couldn't you were more than surprised when he suddenly pushed you off the horse.

"Jungkook what the hell-", you said as you landed in the dirt, shoulder aching slightly.

"Sorry, I think it is better this way.", he grinned. "Also, where would be the fun in just staying? You'll seek me out again. My bounty will keep increasing for sure." A smirk was plastered on his lips as he urged the horse forward. "Until we meet again. I'm looking forward to it."

And with that he was gone. His figure disappearing into the darkness of the night. You couldn't even be mad at him. He had managed to escape from you in the end after all. You smiled to yourself, turning to Jin whose eyebrows were raised in surprise as he watched Jungkook disappear. Maybe he was right, it was better this way, he would have been recognized in town and all hell would've broken loose. Also, this way it would be way more fun.

You chuckled to yourself before you made a devastating realization.

Her hands moved to his zipper, fumbling and sliding the metal clasp down as she kissed him fervently. The upper half of her body was on the bed, her legs dangling awkwardly off the side but she made no attempt to change position; her hands were busy on his body, pulling him towards and on top of her. 

Yoongi reluctantly broke the kiss, a smile playing on his lips. “We haven’t finished yet.”

“We can do it later.” She dismissed breathily, capturing his lips once more. A clanging sound filled the room as his foot connected with a cardboard box, strewn aside shortly before. The bedroom was filled with similar objects of various sizes, brought from her old apartment, only a few of which had been emptied of their contents. It had taken most of the morning to pack the remainder of her belongings and, he suspected, would take even longer to disassemble and put away. At her instance, he had left her to do most of the packing while he got to work cleaning her apartment in the hopes she might regain at least some of her deposit.

“I hope there’s nothing breakable in there…” He mumbled dryly but she ignored his comment, instead using both hands to hold his waist at arms length. He looked down at her, observing her flushed cheeks and the beads of sweat which had started to collect between her breasts, above her plain black bra. He reached beneath her to unclasp it, pulling the material away from her body and letting it drop to the floor to join her pair of jeans. 

“Take off your shirt.” She gasped, fingering the hem of the dark material loosely. He hesitated before complying, slipping it over his head and discarding it on the messy floor. She watched him intently, eyes moving across his torso and lingering on his collarbone which likewise glistened with perspiration. The boxes had been heavy and it had taken several trips from the rented van to the bedroom. Despite being dressed for summer, the day was uncharacteristically humid and sweat patches had begun to form by the time they finished. It hadn’t taken long, after locking the front door behind them, for their hands to find each other and before they knew it, they were stumbling across the floor, trying their best to dodge the boxes and failing a few times before they reached the bed. 

Accepting that the boxes would have to wait, Yoongi bent down to grasp her bare legs and, a little roughly, pushed the rest of her body onto the bed. No sooner had they hit the bedsheets, she scrambled to her knees, tugging at his waistband to free him from the confines of his jeans. His voice stuttered as she palmed him through his underwear, teasing the bulge beneath before working on the elastic. He helped her take them off, slipping them from his legs before joining her on the bed, their faces equal heights as she wrapped her fingers around him. His mouth parted in a silent moan as she lowered herself to his lap, touching her lips to his tip and kissing him sensually. She tried to look at him, opening her mouth and jerking her hand against the base of his cock as she worked him quickly, her head bobbing. The position looked uncomfortable and she gagged as he brushed her throat. Yoongi touched her cheek, brushing strands of dark hair from her face.

“Do you want me to lay down?” He asked.

She continued sucking him for a few more moments, reluctant to let him go, before pulling back. He positioned himself against the headboard, untucking his knees from underneath his body and she moved with him, lying against his body and taking him back in her mouth. He gave the softest of moans as he felt her lips wrap around him and watched her with parted lips, unable to vocalise how good she was making him feel. Jeong-sun moved up, slipping him out of her mouth to kiss along the underside of his flushed cock; pressing her lips delicately to the soft skin as she moved along the length. 

Desperately, he brushed her cheekbone with his thumb. “Talk to me…” He whispered. 

Her lips curled against him in a smile and she looked up, meeting his gaze.“What do you want me to say?”

“You can choose the topic.” He murmured softly. 

She pulled back a little, shrugging her shoulders and replacing her mouth with her hand which she moved along him lightly. “Global warming?” She suggested.

He laughed again, cheeks warm. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” She replied, settling against him and pumping him slowly as her lips trailed against the side of his shaft. “I’m glad we packed early.” Her eyes flickered to the dense clouds forming outside. “It’s going to rain later.”

“Are you sure you brought everything?” He asked, a little breathily. 

She shook her head deliberately slowly so her lips remained against him. The change in movement made him gasp. “Not everything…” She said. “I left the curtains.”

He laughed softly, immediately knowing the ones she was referring to. “Good.” 

She flashed him a stern look, though he saw the humour in her eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t say that while I’m holding you.” She warned, making his grin widen. 

“What are you going to do?” He challenged lightly, knowing she was no more capable of deliberately hurting him than he was with her. She kept up the act a moment longer, eyes connecting with his intensely, before she took his back in her mouth, swallowing him whole. He groaned unexpectedly, eyes closing for a moment to handle the sensation as he felt her cheeks close around him, trapping him against her tongue. 

“Are you putting off unpacking?” He managed to murmur, opening his eyes to look at her as she pulled away once more to reply, tightening her grasp against him to keep the momentum. 

“I just don’t know where to start…” She admitted a little defeatedly, before smiling knowingly. “Are you complaining?”

His silence told her all she needed to know and she started sucking him again. 

“Fuck…” He spluttered, cupping her cheeks with both hands and encouraging her towards him. She sensed his need and shifted awkwardly, sitting up to join him at the head of the bed; her hand trapped between, pumping him quickly as they kissed passionately. She savoured his moans in her mouth, opening her lips against him until she felt his heat against her, spreading over her fingers. She continued kissing him, coaxing him through the final seconds of his orgasm and feeling him shift as he reached automatically towards the bedside table to find her a tissue. She pulled away and beat him to it, rummaging through the various bottles and lotions to find the box and wiping herself clean. He took them from her and threw them towards the garbage can in the corner, mentally reminding himself to replace the bin-liner later in the day. When he looked back, Jeong-sun seemed distracted by the contents of the top drawer and leaned over to pull out a bottle of lubricant.

“Why do you have this in there?” She leered, checking the label. 

He frowned, mouth twisting. “Where else am I supposed to keep it?”

She shrugged easily, tearing off the safety seal and flipping the cap. “Does it really taste like Mojito?”

“I haven’t tried it.” He admitted. She handed him the bottle and he felt warm at the implication that she wanted him to use it on her. Silently pouring a little on his hand, he spread it across his fingers as she watched closely. 

“You're not allergic to anything are you?” He looked up.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Satisfied, he nodded and she reached for her panties, slipping them off and dropping them on the floor before lying on her back. He reached between her parted thighs, running his fingertips against her centre and she moaned softly as circled her clitoris, reaching with his other hand to grasp the bottle of lubricant. She gasped as he squirted a large drop onto her nipple; his mouth closing around her.

“It’s tingly…” She commented, kissing his lips as soon as he pulled away from her breast. She brushed his tongue with hers, tasting the substance and letting out a groan. “Pretty realistic.” She smirked against his lips. 

He laughed. “If you say so...” Kissing her again, he continued the soft motions against her, slowly edging down to press his lips to her neck and chest, stomach and hips before settling between her parted thighs and licking through her folds. Her breath stuttered as he focussed on her swollen clitoris, suctioning and flicking it with his tongue; welcoming her taste and warmth against his fingers which he sunk in deep, massaging her from the inside. He listened to her moans, knowing to change the pace when he felt her breath stutter; her voice catching in her throat. He reached for her hand and she took it without question, squeezing down on his fingers as her orgasm rocked her entire body; hips buckling messily against his face as she rode it out. Her body was warm beneath him and he continued to kiss her, changing from the intense, sucky motions which had made her come to sloppy, lazy kisses against her sensitive bud, listening to the sounds of her breathing as it became less laboured and shallow.

“You don’t have to keep going.” She eventually mumbled, a little breathless still, but enjoying the fact he was in no rush to stop. 

“I love kissing you…” He confessed, making a point of pecking her clitoris, closed-lipped, before opening his mouth against her. 

Jeong-sun felt her cheeks redden. “I love kissing you too.” She whispered, welcoming his embrace when he moved away and crawled back up her body to meet her mouth. They kissed for an unknown amount of time, holding each other close until the weight of the task at hand could be avoided no longer.

“We should probably start on the boxes.” Yoongi murmured, pulling away reluctantly. 

She nodded, shifting disappointedly when he withdrew his arm from beneath her. “Pick one.” 

“Clothes first?” He suggested. 

“Okay.” She agreed, allowing him to slip off the bed and watching as he slowly dressed. Once he had finished, he reached down to hand her the underwear she had taken off. She eyed the rest of her discarded clothes with a grunt. 

“Can I wear one of your shirts? It’s pretty warm in here.” She asked, and he nodded easily, gesturing towards the cabinet in the corner. She knew where he kept them and selected an oversized printed t-shirt. 

Yoongi was looking around the stacks of cardboard boxes, only just realising she had neglected to write the contents on the side. “Which one’s your clothes?”

She shrugged, tugging down the fabric which whilst baggy on him, still clung a little against her wide hips and chest. Freeing her short hair from the neckline, she drew it into a haphazard ponytail. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Bending down, he selected one at random, delicately drawing back the flaps which held it closed and reaching in to pull out a pair of plain jeans. The bundle was heavier than expected and he unravelled the denim, revealing a single ceramic plate concealed in the centre. 

“No bubble wrap?” He cocked an eyebrow. 

“I ran out.” 

Realising she had done this with a number of kitchen goods, he unearthed the remainder of the box with more caution, finding more plates, cups and glasses wrapped inside various garments, which he handed to Jeong-sun one by one. She left the kitchen-ware on the bed where it would be cushioned by the duvet, creating an unusual spread of mismatched patterns and sizes.

“I bought some more clothes hangers.” He motioned towards the large cabinet in the corner, eyeing the steadily growing pile of clothing on the edge of the bed. “They’re in the wardrobe.”

She moved towards it, finding a generous bundle hung on the rack besides Yoongi’s shirts and hoodies. The familiar print on the end caught her eye and she extracted it with interest, gazing at the picture on the black fabric. 

“Isn’t this mine?” She asked, holding it out. The image showed the back of a dark-haired male, his guitar outlined against the white backdrop along with the title of the record. Boy’s Don’t Cry.

He looked up at the sound of her voice, eyes lingering on the item and shrugging easily. 

“You left it once.” He said. “I forgot about it.”

She accepted his anwer, though suspected it’s prominent place at the edge of the wardrobe suggested he saw the hoodie more often than he was letting on. Turning back to the assortment of clothes already hung, she idly flicked through them.

“You have a lot of black.” She commented. 

“It goes with everything.” He murmured distractedly, holding up a black electric kettle he had found between two rolled up sweatshirts. “Do you want to keep this?” He asked. “I already have one.”

She shrugged teasingly. “I like the colour. It goes with everything.”

He rummaged through a second box of goods which seemed to contain the reminder of her cutlery. “Does it come with a box?”

“I threw it away. The warranty ran out five years ago.” She reached for the device, which he handed to her. “We could leave it here, in case the other one breaks.”

He watched silently as she placed it in the bottom of the wardrobe, beside a pile of paper shopping bags, and considered if he should protest. Instead, he turned his attention to a larger box which he remembered struggling with earlier in the day; its contents heavy. Unsurprisingly, he found it piled with books, both paper and hardback; their spines bent and stacked clumsily. 

“Don’t you use your E-reader?” He questioned lightly, knowing he had gifted her one years before that was sent to him through his company. 

She gestured listlessly, her attention fixed on the last few dresses which she hung in the wardrobe. “It’s in there somewhere…”

His mouth twisted in humour; he had already guessed that the sleek, charcoal grey device would lay untouched the moment he had handed it to her. Perhaps the thought of transferring over the numerous bookmarks and folded edges was too large of a task, in hindsight. “I thought it might save you space.” He added in gentle explanation.

Jeong-sun gave a small shrug. “I’m a collector.” She winked, bending down to help him remove the contents of the box, now that the clothes were hung alongside his.

The half-filled bookshelf in the corner of the room seemed to groan already as they loaded several of the heftier titles onto the shelves; Yoongi realised, looking at the immense stack left to organise, that he would have to look into getting another. For now though, he stacked the larger of the hardbacks against the wall, peering at the covers with interest. Among the usual suspects of fantasy and horror-genre authors, he found a few non-fiction titles. “Are these new?” He asked, picking up the heaviest and flicking through. The pages were unnaturally crisp, wrinkled as though they would shatter and annotated heavily in an unfamiliar, barely legible scrawl. The apparent water damage had caused some of the text to peel away. Accompanying the anatomical drawings were medical phrases, some of which he did not recognise. Jeong-sun joined his side and took it from him.

“Sort of.” She murmured, placing it with the others. “There was a listing online. The woman threw in a few extra...said she thought she’d be wasting her time trying to sell the ones she had ruined drying them off on a radiator.”

“That was nice of her…” He trailed off, watching as she rearranged the titles on his shelf and added a few of her own to the collection. Seeing the books made him hopeful, and he continued gently. “Did you think any more about the open event? There’s one on the weekend.”

She looked at him and smiled, admitting defeat. “I’m warming to the idea.” She confessed. 

He nodded encouragingly. “It’d be good to go. You don’t have to make a commitment.”

Jeong-sun hesitated, tucking a strand of hair cautiously behind the arms of her glasses. “Will you come with me?”

“If you’d like me to.”

Turning back to the shelf, she added the final book to the already fully stuffed row, having to push it in a little roughly to make it fit. “I’d like your opinion on the financing options.”

“I might not be much help.” He offered a hand to help her to her feet. “I’ve never taken out a student loan.”

“We’ll work it out between us.” She kept hold of his hand for another moment, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re reconsidering it.” Yoongi said, voice soft with honesty. 

“Well…,” she sighed dramatically, “I’ve got to get my kicks somewhere. I thought I’d get a headstart on my midlife crisis by collecting degrees.” 

He sensed the self-deprivation in her tone but let it drop, giving a smirk. “It could be worse…” He murmured. “You could collect stamps.”

She matched his grin. “I’ll take that on next year.” She thought for a moment, the statement reminding her. “How’s the guitar playing?”

He shrugged. “I wrote a new song.” 

“What about?” She asked curiously, watching as he moved to the centre of the room and opened another box.

He looked up, locking eyes meaningfully. “It’s a secret.”

She couldn’t help but blush in understanding, her stomach giving an odd sort of lurch at his unbroken, yet equally bashful gaze. Stepping aside to give him room, she sat on the edge of the bed while he passed her a handful of underwear. She eyed the plain briefs apathetically, realising a few had holes in and were starting to lose their elastic. “I’ll have to get some more…” She grumbled to herself, sorting them into piles before stacking them in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. A laugh caught her attention and she turned in time to see Yoongi unravelling a mug from between the cups of a t-shirt bra.

“I guess the padding protects it pretty well.” He commented. 

She looked at him straight, voice dry. “Are you saying I’ve got big boobs?”

He gave a small nod in confirmation, the edges of his lips curling upwards as she met his eyes with a challenging look. Turning over the object that had emerged from the large, cushioned pads, he examined the colourful, symmetric pattern around the brim. At the cluster of tea-stains inside, he grinned. “I can tell this one’s your favourite.”

“Do you have a favourite mug?” She asked interestedly, taking it from him and placing it among the assortment on the bed. He handed back the bra which she tucked into the drawer with the others.

“The one you bought me.” 

His answer took her by surprise and she laughed, remembering the one in question she had given him a few months prior, brought back from a conference she had been sent to by the pharmacy. The navy, king-size mug had boasted the importance of getting regular prostate exams. “It was free. Nobody wanted it for some reason.”

Fishing out the final few pairs of briefs, he stood up straight. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Do you have any real coffee?” Her mouth twisted automatically in distaste as she clarified herself. “..Not the decaff stuff.”

He nodded. “I bought some for you.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she collected a few of the items from the duvet and followed him down the little hallway, into the kitchen. He took the colourful canister she was holding from her grasp and reached into the top cupboard to open a fresh bag of coffee, filling the ceramic pot with the beans.

“It doesn’t really match your kitchen.” Jeong-sun admitted. 

Yoongi saw her nodding towards the canister, turning it over in his hand with apathy. “I like it.”

She beamed. “You don’t really care do you?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, placing it next to a neat row of monochrome jars.

Still smiling, she watched him fill the coffee maker she had brought from her apartment, waiting for it to filter through to fill the mug. Standing beside him, she fingered the edge of his black t-shirt, trailing her hands under to touch the cool skin of his hip. He turned to her, meeting her eager lips as the scent of coffee filled the room. 

“You’re a bit needy today…” He grinned against her, holding her waist steady and remembering how she had woken him up this morning with her lips against his neck, hands moving to touch him as he rolled over to face her. It had been nice to know she didn’t have to go anywhere, having booked a few days from work to accompany the move, and they had spent a solid hour kissing and touching, before their orgasms came together; only seconds apart. 

She met his gaze challengingly, hands moving to his hips. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice and pulled her closer; moving under her shirt to grasp both cheeks, kneading her as she moaned into his mouth. The sound of the dripping filter eventually stopped and he pulled away gently, fingertips still pressing into the soft flesh of her arse. “Are you gonna get that?”

She frowned exaggeratedly. “I thought you offered?”

He let her go with deliberate slowness and opened the fridge, bringing out an unopened bottle of milk to add to her drink, along with a spoonful of sugar. She blew against the brim once he handed it to her, eyes following him as he busied himself at the countertop, preparing his own.

“Are we nearly finished with the boxes?” She asked; her impatience at the task obvious in her voice.

He looked at her. “You tell me.”

Rolling her eyes, she tried to remember the contents she had packed earlier in the day, back at her apartment. “I think it’s just the kitchen stuff and make up.”

They walked back into the bedroom and she set her cup down carefully on his bedside table, making sure the coaster was tucked securely beneath its warm base. Yoongi had already moved onto another box and reached for a pair of scissors to unsecure the tape which held it closed. 

“I bought you a cabinet, did you see?”

She nodded, recalling the flatpack package she had spotted in the spare bedroom. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugged easily. “You have a lot of things.” Reaching into the box, he pulled out a tub of moisturiser along with a mascara tube; black liquid dried to the cap. 

She thought for a second. “I’ve lived there a long time...hand me that.” Jeong-sun pointed at the box, realising it would take too long for him to unpack the contents one by one. He slipped the makeup he had already pulled out back into it carefully and handed it across to her, watching as she picked up the remainder of the cutlery from the bedspread and added it to the box. She pushed the cardboard flaps closed on top and pushed it under the bed with her foot, hiding it from view. “Done.” She announced easily, earning an unconvinced look from Yoongi. She rolled her eyes. “I’ll sort it later, I promise.”

He mentally reminded himself to hold her to it, though suspected he would forget. Instead, he worked on righting the bedsheets, pulling the duvet back as Jeong-sun wandered over to the bookshelf, realising something earlier had caught her eye. On the far edge of the row, beside his own books, she pulled out a thick-looking photo album. 

“What’s this?” She asked, though the gold-embossed writing on the cover gave it away. Flicking it open, she gazed at the first page where a pair of images had been neatly secured with stickable corners. The images had been taken seconds apart, with Yoongi standing on the right beside a grinning Min-seo. Both Jin and Yoongi were wearing suits, while Min-seo’s dress was white and beautiful. A lush, green lawn could be seen behind them, the photograph taken outside on a warm, bright day.

Yoongi looked over. “I got it for their anniversary next week.”

Jeong-sun smiled at the gesture, considering how thoughtful it was and turned the page. The next pair of images were taken during the reception; the couple’s first dance captured on film. She wondered whether Yoongi had taken the photo or if it had been a professional photographer. On the opposite page, Yoongi was with the rest of his bandmates, Min-seo standing in the centre, surrounded by the taller men. Jeong-sun looked at him beneath her eyelashes, a playful smile on her lips. “You look handsome.” 

He gave a breathy laugh in reply and she closed the book carefully, placing it back on the shelf.

“I’m sure they’ll love it.” She said gently, pausing to think for a moment. “Do you still have the tux?”

He shook his head, tucking the pillows beneath the duvet at the head of the bed. “It was a rental.” Looking around the room and deciding it was neat enough, he sat on the edge of the mattress. “Did you want to go out later?”

She looked at him. “What for?”

He shrugged. “To eat out. I could book a table.”

Smiling, she joined him on the edge of the bed. “We need to go grocery shopping at some point. We can’t just live on takeaways.”

He took her hand in his. “I was thinking more of a date.”

She met his gaze, eyes roaming across his features flirtatiously. “Should I get dressed up?”

“No, you should go like that.” He automatically quipped, making her grin as she looked down at her bare legs, visible beneath the short hem of the t-shirt.

“I might do.” She joked, adjusting the edge to cover her knees. 

His eyes roamed across her figure. “You look sexy.”

Jeong-sun laughed, her thumb brushing his knuckles. “It’s your shirt.” She protested, falling silent and appreciating the tension which grew between them. Moving forward, she broke it by touching his cheek with her palm, pulling him into a kiss. He met it heatedly, allowing her to move back against the covers. He nestled himself between her legs and she wrapped them around his waist tightly. His jeans were tight around the crotch and she ran her fingers across the centre, surprised to find he was hard again. 

He groaned at her touch as she grasped him a little more meaningfully, squeezing him through the fabric. 

Jeong-sun broke the kiss with a smirk. “Third time today?” She challenged, eyebrow raised.

“You started it.” He argued, voice breathy. 

Her expression softened. “We don’t have to…”

He was silent for a moment before shifting onto his knees, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt and tugging it off her body. She gasped as the warm air hit her skin, suddenly glad to have opted for less clothes as she enjoyed the way his eyes roamed across her breasts and stomach, before they settled on the triangle of fabric between her legs which he slipped off with equal haste. She watched as he quickly undressed and pulled him towards her as soon as she could.

“It just feels different…” She said, meeting his gaze. 

“Living here?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She paused, moistening her lips again. “It feels like we’ve accomplished something.”

He considered how she had managed to vocalise how he was feeling. “I know what you mean.” He agreed. “It feels like the right time to do this.”

She laughed a little to herself. “Is it strange I’m excited?”

“I’m excited too…” He said, a little longingly. “I want to wake up next to you.”

“It’s not the first time.” She mused. 

He nodded. “I know.” Another pause. “It feels like it.”

“Come here…” She whispered, taking his cock in her hand and guiding him inside her. Their moan was mutual as he sank in slowly and she let go to take both his hands in hers, slipping her fingers through his as he pressed his body against hers. As he moved against her, she raised their hands above her head, stretching out on the bed. He watched her expression closely; loving every quiver and moan her lips made as he made love to her. Her tongue peeped out to moisten her lips, preparing to speak, though her voice was raspy and breathless. “You feel so good…”

Letting go of one hand, he tangled his fingers through her dark hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist once more, her palm moving to his bottom, guiding him deeper. He kissed her smooth cheek before moving to her neck, opening his lips against her skin. She gasped beneath him. 

“I can’t get enough of you…” He whispered softly in her ear before pressing his mouth to the delicate place behind her lobe. 

“Can you get any closer?” She asked, almost pleadingly as he nestled closer, grasping her thighs and pushing them back as his hips met hers.

“I don’t think I can.” He admitted somberly, cupping her cheek. 

She gazed at him intensely, an idea playing through her mind as he moved against her. “There’s one thing…” She eventually said, voice trailing off as he sensed her meaning. 

He opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it, thinking it through for a moment. “Are you sure?” He asked tentatively, though was able to tell she was serious.

She nodded gently. “I want to try. I think we need to…” 

He understood her meaning, knowing it was the one thing they mutually wanted but had never succeeded in doing. Jeong-sun touched his cheek with the back of her hand, happy to feel the warmth beneath his skin. “Have you thought about it, since?” She asked, curious. 

His silence told her all she needed to know but his caution remained. “I just don’t want to hurt you.” He admitted. 

“We can stop if it does.” She said soberly. “I just want to try again. You already have lubricant.” She gestured to the bedside table; the top drawer half open. 

“Okay.” He agreed, knowing she was right and trusting that she would tell him if it became too much. He slowly pulled back, slipping out of her and righting himself on the mattress. “Do you want me to wear a condom?” He asked, looking back at her. 

“No…” She replied, giving a pause. “Unless you want to.”

Turning back, he slid the drawer out all the way and selected a clear bottle, half full. The label listed the product as unfragranced and Jeong-sun laughed lightly as he opened the cap. 

“How many types do you have?” She asked. 

He grinned bashfully, squeezing the bottle to lube up his fingers. “The Mojito was a mistake, but I couldn’t return it.”

“Bastards!” She exclaimed, making him laugh. He watched her reach for a pillow, untucking it from beneath the duvet and nestling it beneath her hips; raising them slightly to allow him better access. He dropped the bottle on the sheets, keeping it close, and snuggled against her, kissing her forehead and touching her clitoris delicately, making her moan. He rubbed it a few times, massaging the little nub between his fingertips until he could feel it swelling slightly, responsive to his touch. Satisfied she was at ease, he slowly moved down, paying attention to her slick folds before circling the area around her other opening. He anticipated her gasp and slowed automatically, watching her features closely. 

“Are you comfortable like this?” He asked. 

She nodded and he reached with his spare hand for the lubricant, pouring a little more onto his fingers and warming it up with his palm before pressing against her with his index finger. She was breathing heavily, anticipating the sensation, and he pulled away, deciding it best to try with his smallest finger. He sank it into her slowly, watching her mouth part as his knuckle brushed and stretched her. Pulling back, he withdrew and moved to his ring finger, the fourth digit slipping in with a little more ease. Her eyes were fixed on his, urging him to continue and he switched to his index, fingering her deeply before adding his middle finger to join the second. Her breath hitched and he paused his movement, buried in her warmth. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

Jeong-sun reached for his wrist, wrapping her fingers around it and pushing him closer. He grinned shyly, taking it as a sign to continue. “How does it feel?” He asked, voice curious. 

She smirked dryly. “Like I have your fingers in my arse.”

He laughed, realising he shouldn’t have expected any other answer. He kissed her cheek softly, loving her so much in that moment he thought his chest might burst. “Is that a good thing?” He raised an eyebrow. 

She exhaled heavily; a grin fixed on her lips as she giggled. “Yeah…” She nodded, expression softening. “It’s a good thing.”

He kissed her, basking in the warmth which radiated from her skin before pulling away. “It might be easier on your side…” He suggested. 

Jeong-sun nodded in agreement and rolled over, facing the bedside table. Yoongi joined her a moment later, tucking himself closely against her torso and reaching over her body to pick up the bottle. He spread the liquid liberally on himself, before adding more to his fingers and palm. She shuffled a little against him, getting comfortable as he reached between her cheeks with his left hand. “Do you feel ready?” He asked, kissing her shoulder.

“Just a little bit more…” She whispered, giving a small groan when his fingers returned to her opening. She felt herself relaxing against his body as he kissed her lulling, trailing along her shoulder before moving to her dark hair and ear lobe. His breath was warm and comforting against her helix and she wondered if she would ever feel safer than she did right now. His other hand was moving against her body, stroking her upper arm gently before reaching around to press between her folds, rubbing her clitoris in little, circular motions. She moaned at his touch, closing her eyes in pleasure and turning her head back to look at him. 

“Go slowly.” She requested. 

He moved forward, kissing her cheek as he withdrew from her warmth. “Tell me if you want to stop.” He said, reiterating as he tucked her closer to him and held himself near the tip, pressing against her. She sensed he would need his other hand to hold her steady, and replaced his fingers with hers, rubbing herself as he moved his hips forward and gasping when she felt him push inside. His lips moved back to her shoulder, kissing her soothingly as he guided himself, inch by inch. 

“God, you feel deep…” She whimpered encouragingly. 

“I’m not quite in all the way.” He admitted, pausing. “Is this enough?”

“You can get closer…” She urged. “I want to feel all of you.”

He felt a little resistance but took his time, holding her hips and pulling her against him as he sank in deeper. She groaned again, feeling his torso flush against her back and knowing he was as close as he could get as his arm sneaked across her stomach in an embrace. The sensation of fullness was unlike anything she had experienced before; seeming deeper in a way she couldn’t place into words. While the pleasure was mostly mental; lacking the intense, sharpness which accompanied their usual sex, she couldn’t deny it satisfied her; hitting a spot they hadn’t been able to previously achieve. Jeong-sun turned her face to look at him, curious as to whether he shared this unexpected epiphany. 

“How do I feel?” She asked, a little breathlessly. 

He thought for a second. “Warm…” He grumbled, voice stifled against her skin as he kissed her tenderly. “Tight...”

Jeong-sun laughed. “I hope it’s tight.” She murmured sarcastically. 

His laughter rumbled through her body. “A different kind of tight.” He explained with a shrug.

She calmed down and slipped her fingers through his. “You can move a little.”

Unhurriedly, he complied, rocking against her with small movements. Her breathing was heavy and laboured but she didn’t speak; appreciating the way she could also hear every change in his movement; every new sensation by the way his breath hitched. He kept the pace slow, sensing from her quietening groans that she was growing tired and wanted it this way, until eventually he found himself stopping altogether, content to keep himself wrapped in her warmth and appreciate her body pressed snuggly against his. 

“Yoongi?” She eventually called.

“Mmm?” His eyes opened and he tightened his hold around the torso, realising his grip had loosened. 

She was silent for a long time and he wondered if she was going to speak. When she finally did, he found himself taken by surprise. “Will you look after me?” She asked, voice little more than a whisper. “When I get old?”

He fell quiet, before letting out a soft laugh. “When you get old?” He questioned warmly. “We’re the same age...” He felt her still against him and realised, like him, she wasn’t pursuing another orgasm. “Have you had enough?” He asked genially. 

“We’ve just...done it a lot today.” She admitted. 

Yoongi murmured in agreement. “I don’t think I can finish anyway.” He admitted. 

“We should get cleaned up…” He felt her shift as he withdrew from her warmth. “Be careful.” She warned gently. 

He sensed her meaning, though didn’t want her to worry about that. “It’s fine.” He reassured her, waiting for her to relax before pulling himself out completely. Jeong-sun was still as he got to his feet, heading towards the en-suite, though he waited for her in the doorway, observing her grimace as she stood up. 

He frowned. “Are you sore?” 

Looking up, she smiled sheepishly. “A little.”

“I’m sorry.” He said. 

“No…” Shaking her head, she took his hand as he led her into the shower. “I wanted you to.” She reminded him, watching as he turned on the spray before kissing him tenderly. They waited a few seconds for the water to heat up before standing under the stream. He held her waist as they kissed lazily; the glass panes fogging up around them. The water ran over their faces, between their bodies but they continued, as though in a daze. Eventually, Yoongi reached for the body wash and handed it to her while he worked up a lather in his hair; the coconut scent immediately familiar and he realised it was hers.

He waited for her to step out first, immediately reaching for the towel which had followed her from her apartment. It was a little threadbare, and he added a trip to Ikea among his list of to-dos.

“I just need to pee.” He murmured.

“Enjoy.” She smirked, heading into the bedroom. The steam followed her, billowing around the bedroom, and she settled her towel at the foot of the bed, using the edges to dry her legs. 

Yoongi lifted the seat, his thoughts wonderfully content as he pissed. Remembering to put it back down, he turned to the sink, washing his hands slowly before drying himself as best he could. 

He watched Jeong-sun from the doorway as she towelled her hair; the top drawer in his cabinet was askew from where she had rummaged through to find another towel and a few were poking messily from the gap. She seemed unaware he was looking and bent down to scrunch-dry the ends, causing little droplets to cascade onto the light-coloured rug before she flipped it back over and worked on her scalp.

“Of course I would.” He said, making her look up. 

“What?” She asked, eyes a little wide. 

“Look after you…” He walked slowly towards her, sitting on the longer edge of the bed where he could see her more clearly. “When you’re old.” He finished gently. 

Her lips widened in a playful grin. “Even though you’ll be the same age?” 

He nodded sincerely. “Yeah.”

Thinking this through, she beckoned to him. “Come here…” She whispered. He crawled across the duvet, settling behind her and taking the towel from her hand. Without speaking, he rubbed it through the back of her hair, drying the parts she couldn’t easily reach between two hands. He watched as trails of water ran down her naked back in little lines, a little transfixed. 

“Did you still want to go out later?” She asked softly.

“If you want to.” 

“It’d be nice to go on a date.” She agreed, reaching behind to take the now sodden towel from his hands and meeting his gaze. “I might have a nap first.”

He nodded. “Good idea. It’s been a long day.”

She trailed back to the bathroom to hang the towels on the heated rack before joining him on the bed. He was resting against the headboard, unembarrassed about his nudity and Jeong-sun found herself pressing her cheek to his thighs, laying in his lap and looking up at him. He smiled, brushing a few strands of damp hair away from her brow before stroking the lengths absently. His eyes moved across her naked chest, taking her in completely as she reached for his hand, holding it loosely and running her thumb across his palm, along the gentle grooves of his lifeline, watching her own motions with heavy, tired eyes. They stayed like this a while, content with the silence, until she gave a long yawn, opening her eyes a little more clearly. 

“Does it scare you?” She whispered. 

“Growing old?” He clarified. 

She looked up and nodded, meeting his gaze. 

“No…” He said, softly. “You?”

She grew pensive, taking her time to answer, but eventually shook her head. “Not as much.” She realised, closing her fingers around his. “Not if you’re with me.”

He felt his voice catch in his throat and swallowed, clearing the obstruction. “I promise.” He said, heart racing as her gaze returned to their joined hands. 

He sensed she could feel the beat of his heart through his fingertips and hoped she knew why he felt this way. Her expression was calm, untroubled, and she eventually moved his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles.

“I want to marry you.” She murmured steadily, her words soft against his flesh. 

It took him a moment to register what she had said, by which time she had kissed him again, as though confirming her thoughts. “Really?” He asked, voice little more than a whisper; it was all he could manage. 

She nodded against him, looking up and meeting his gaze soberly. “More than anything.”

His hand trembled against her and she kissed it again as he dropped his head down, realising that while he was smiling, his eyes also stung and he couldn’t get the words out to respond to her. Instead, he clutched her tighter, holding desperately onto her hand as his lip quivered beneath the shadow of his dark hair. 

Jeong-sun watched him and somehow managed to keep it together; serene and content with her confession. “What do you think?” She questioned softly, hoping she had done the right thing by telling him. 

He gathered himself enough to speak. “I think I want to marry you too.” He said, swallowing another lump which had formed in his throat. Her cheeks reddened and he smiled widely, though he realised she was swimming in his vision. He blinked away the tears, realising too late that he was crying.

“I don’t want to wait.” She continued, reaching out for him and steadying his shaking body in her arms. “We’ve waited enough.” 

“Jeong-sun…” He whispered, not needing to say more. 

“I don’t care where. I just know I want to…” She sensed she was rambling a little and stopped herself, only just observing how taken aback he seemed. “Are you okay?” She asked, realising he had grown silent. “Did I catch you off guard?”

He sniffled unashamedly, rubbing her upper arm. “Kind of.” He smiled, pausing. “It’s been on my mind.” He admitted. 

Jeong-sun considered this for a moment. “Did I steal your thunder?” She asked. 

He hesitated for a second before shaking his head. His voice came out steadier when he spoke. “I wouldn’t have known what to say…” He confessed, stroking her hair gently with his fingertips. “You mean so much to me.”

“You too.” She nodded. 

“I couldn’t have said it any better.” He admitted, realising it was true. He let out a breathy sigh. “You can’t imagine how much it means to me that you did.”

“I think I might have an idea…” She nestled closer to his body, snuggling against him.

“When did you have in mind?” He asked softly. 

“I’m not sure.” She frowned. “Just soon.”

 He stroked her hair, teasing the dark strands lovingly. “I’d marry you tomorrow if we could find somewhere.”

“It doesn’t need to be big.” She shrugged, voice wandering as she mused out loud. “Just you and me…not a Korean wedding.”

His smile widened and he squeezed her hand lovingly. “We could run away together.” He suggested, only half-joking. 

She laughed, hugging him around the waist. “My parents would never forgive me.” She admitted, rolling her eyes.

“Mine neither.” He agreed. 

“I imagine Yu-jin might want to be there…” Jeong-sun said after a moment, voice picking up. “Jin and Min-seo too…” 

“Hoseok and Nana.” Yoongi added.

She nodded against him. “Your parents and mine.”

“Jungkook...Young-soon…” He paused. “But it might be too short notice for the others.”

“Yeah.” Jeong-sun murmured. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be too expensive.” She shifted to look up at him, smirking mischievously. “Shame about your tux…”

He laughed softly, realising what she meant. “I’ll just rent another.” His shoulders moved in a shrug and she matched his grin as he cradled her naked body against his own. “Will you wear white?” He asked. 

She fell quiet, realising she had not thought this part through. “Do you want me to?” She asked, interested in his reply. 

He considered it for a moment, before taking her by surprise. “Yes.” He whispered. 

Her lips curled in a smile. “Then I will…” She shrugged easily, settling her cheek lazily against his thigh. “Do you want to get dressed?” She mumbled. 

He watched her eyes close and shook his head, though knew she wouldn’t be able to see. “Not just yet.” He whispered, bending down to kiss her shoulder.

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here

& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here

The next time you saw him, he had been trapped on the sand. No one had been around. You took a moment to trace your eyes on his features. He was beautiful, and without the tail and the crust of sand on his body, he would have been like an exceptionally handsome storybook prince.

It was like your little secret when you bent down, sand smearing on the dainty fabric of your gown, and rolled him down the sand and into the water. You had never felt the skin of a man before that had not been your family, and you held your breath as his touch left your palms. His skin was cold, despite the heat of the sun trying to dry him out, and you felt your skin get hot. 

It was not from the sun. 

The touch of water against him seemed to invigorate him, and with a splash he was back in the water, too far away from your touch. Even then, you could still feel the cool left on your fingertips.

“Bye, bye, Sir. Tell me how the ocean is.” You had whispered. That whisper had been for yourself, but the ocean had heard. The sun shimmered on its pale surface, reflecting off the steady eyes that had glued themselves to the still crouched human on the shore.

You met him the third time on that very same beach, but he was more careful this time. He stayed where there was still water that could soak his tail. You kneeled in front of him, owlish gaze pinned to the unique specimen.

“Can you,’’ you paused, squinting underneath the sun to look at him properly,” understand me?’’

He clicked his tongue and nodded his head. You giggled in delight, a sound that made him freeze until he caught the sight of your smile.

“Are there…Are there others like you? And are there fairies and creatures that suck blood, and oh the ones that spin a wand and poof! a miserly girl becomes a princess?’’

“Some…,’’ his voice crackled out, dry,’’ But no wand.”

“Oh my! How lovely,’’ you cooed,’’ You know, sir, you really are handsome, even though I’m sure you’re not human. In fact, it’s perhaps the fact that you are not human that makes you so handsome. Papa introduced me to a man to get married to, and he told me that man was handsome, but oh, was he nearly the same age as Papa. I think you’re much more handsome, and if I could do any math I might be able to tell you how much.”

He shook his head and bared his teeth. You laughed.

“You’re very handsome.”

You paused as an idea sparked in your head.

“Hey, hey, I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to get kissed by a prince. I’ll be like a princess, and maybe you’ll grow legs, and we can dance in a ballroom, and I’ll wear a pretty sparkling gown, and birds will place roses in my hair.”

Before you could say anything further, his fingers were already in your gown and he was pulling you in. You cried out as water splashed onto your body, but that cry was muffled as your lips met his. He tasted like the ocean, a salt that lingered in your mouth, and you let out a pleased sigh as he peeked his tongue through your lips and suckled on your tongue. His kiss was not gentle, it was not at all like the way a prince would kiss a princess, but you did not care. He kissed like an animal, and all you could do was let out wanton sounds like the promiscuous woman your papa banned you from ever becoming.

You felt a sting of sharp teeth against your bottom lip, and you let out a cry as he swiped his tongue over the ruby droplet of blood on your lip. You felt hot when he finally let you go, a heat unfurling in your stomach. Suddenly, you were aware of the dampness of your skirt—oh, your governess was going to be furious—and the sting in your lip. You pushed yourself away, standing up with your hands covering your mouth, and you ran away without another word, leaving the merman sitting there with his eyes greedily attached to your fleeing form.

But even then, you could not stay away. Not even the vow you had made to not entangle yourself with the supernatural could keep you from coming back after a bitter argument with your papa about your engagement. And he was still there.

It seemed his eyes had never left you when you sobbed and flung yourself into the sand before him. He was chirping to you now, singing to you a pleasant song that reduced your weeping, and you were drawing yourself closer to him. He was whispering a hum to you, his touch hot as he reached underneath your gown and stroked the place that had been burning for his touch. You gasped and shivered in pleasure as he spread your hot folds open, the wanton squelch of your pussy hidden in the waves of the sea.

You were foolish. You did not care in that moment what was going to happen in the future.

You were crying now for a different reason. The sting of his cock crashing through your purity and stretching you uncomfortably left your nails dragging down his alabaster-like skin. Oh, oh, he was so big. You whimpered, and he only shushed your lips like he had done when the two of you had first met.

He rutted into your pussy, and your walls quivered at the impact. You scrambled at the sand, your palm clasped over your mouth as you muffled your moans so the guards would not hear. One particular thrust hit deeper than before, and a slip of a cry left between the tiny gaps of your fingers.

You had no name for him, and so you cried out the name of the prince in your storybook.

“Namjoon, mm!’’ you panted out, and you tried to push away from him when he held onto your hips and pulled you deeper down his cock. “Oh! Oh! Namjoon, ngh—!’’

He clicked his tongue in response, a warble of sounds pushing through his throat and obstructing any attempts of English. You were so wet and tight around him. In that moment, he was sure that you were his mate, the one love a merman could ever have and could never let go.

You sucked in a shaky breath and your head tilted back as your walls fluttered around and clenched down on his cock. You heard him make a strangled groan, his sharp teeth gnashing together, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you collapsed into a new high you had never known before. You felt something sticky fill your walls up, and you could only let out a pathetic little moan as he rutted lightly into your sore pussy.

“My…my mate,’’ you heard him rasp through clenched teeth, and you let out whimpers as what you had done settled into your brain in a panic. You had touched with another man…Well, he wasn’t a man, but he had soiled the purity you were supposed to retain for your husband. You tried to get up, but the man in front of you shook his head and dug his claws in so deep into your dress that the nails scraped against your skin.

“I-I have to go!’’ You tried to rip away your gown from his grip, but he didn’t let go. He had seen you run away before; he couldn’t have that again.

“No…No run away…I won’t let you, my mate,’’ he pushed out through his throat, and you felt your eyes widen in fear as he dragged you closer to him. He was pressing his lips against yours, the kiss rougher than the one had had given you before, and you could only let muffled noises as he sealed your lips with his. You were drowning in his kiss, in the strange interest of this wild creature that you were not supposed to encounter, and you realized that he was pulling you closer to the water.

You were soaking in water now, and your gown remained in tatters as the cold salty water brushed over your heated skin, and you were crying now, sobbing, as he kept kissing you. He let out shushing noises, almost as if he was trying to calm you, but you only wept louder as you were pulled deeper and deeper into the water.

“Please, please!’’ you tried to call out, but his lips muffled yours. You couldn’t fight anymore, not when he was clutching you so hard, and you had hopelessly given up your future with one heated moment of passion. With one more final drag and a final thrash of his powerful tail against the water, you were underneath.

You choked for a second, thrashing as you reached the water, but he was holding onto you. You shivered in fear as a small drag of his sharp teeth against your soft tongue left you bleeding, and you could only attempt to make another plea for help as you were submerged in water.

~

There was a murmur of dissent when the maids found your empty bed. Ah, perhaps, the others whispered, you had eloped with a lover to escape your engagement. Stories grew, ranging from a midnight rendezvous with a commoner to a monster half-fish half-man that had dragged the young lady into the briny depths. After all, the manor was close to the water. But the less superstitious people shook their head and mocked the fearful.

“What monsters are there in the sea other than the ones we can hook and devour?’’

There were several countless failed tries, where you sought to stay away. To purify yourself of his narcotic magnetism, to expunge all late-night escapades unraveling when the moon kisses the sky. Altering to omitted memories to never resurface in the sunlit horizon. Many times there a been that expected moment of reasoning. Albeit choosing to strike post-coital when you’ve been belatedly freed from the smog of arousal. Momentarily sated with the pulsating of your cum filled cunt. It’s usually then, only then you find yourself with the urge - the need to flee. 

To be spooned in the warming embrace of your loving, naive boyfriend. To shield you from the freezing chills of your sins, and help sooth the pain as you reflect on your harrowing actions. Pathetically the shame, pain and regret are wistfully short-lived emotions, forgotten like an old childhood toy. Not soon after, in their place the yearning begins. Boiling at odd hours in the night, symptoms of withdrawal surfacing, devising you desperate.

Oh so fervent

Aching - desirous for your next moment with him.

He is slick and cunning like a snake. Coiled in captivating colors, poisonous, yet so enticing. He was no good for you, it was no secret. But when it all bubbled down to a concentrated thought. You were like a drug fiend, addicted to the empirical taste of his angel dust. Caught deep in the sweet down spiraling remedy that was Min Yoongi. He was the proverbial forbidden fruit and the serpent mix into one deadly package. 

Not much coaxing was needed to take a bite. His tempting words and intoxicating presence was just enough to seal your fate. So with unsteady sock laden feet, your body propelled toward the dimmed room. The creator of your greed and secret ruler of your body waiting just beyond the door.

“I didn't think you were coming."

How funny. In a pathetic way that is. He didn't think you were going to come? Where could he possibly get that idea from? Admittedly it's been a while since the last encounter with busy and conflicting scheduling keeping you apart. Though not once have you missed that hypnotizing tune that always led you to him. Not once have you denied him a chance to ravage a body that was never his from the beginning.

“Did you finally get him to fall asleep?”Yoongi mused, the bed creaking lightly as he rose from lying down. You watched as he began walking towards you with a steady gait. The lamp on his nightstand casting a shadow to hide the right side of his face. Shivering you nodded, a small shaky smile of fondness playing on your lips as you reminisced your boyfriend's excitement over their new album.

"Good. You know how restless Namjoon gets when we have new material on the way." Spoken like a man who knew his best friend, his fucking brother. Yoongi was right though, it took time and patience to soothe a riled Namjoon. 

Listening to hours of animated rambling, chatted amid eye-watering yawns and repetitive strokes through chemically damaged, yet soft and lush strands of hair. Though once his burning enthusiasm trickled down to a burnt-out wick, he was dead to the world.

"Yeah. I know." You responded with stifling discomfiture, a wave of salty transgression washing on the sandy banks in your chest. It was an unspoken rule. Namjoon was not to be mentioned in the immoral extent of you and Yoongi. Not to be slandered and tainted with the actions that would inevitably condemn you to hell. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about him while in this place, in this position; in this context. It served no relief. Only proving to be a conduit of neglected emotions that would be mulled over in the future. 

You flinched at chilled forearms enclosing around your waist. The thin silk material of your nightgown, ineffectively blocking the cold press of his fingertips against the lower portion of skin on your back. Yoongi habitually kept it cold in his room. He joked claiming he liked the way your nipples hardened to stiff little nubs when they met the air. Yet he knew the biting element of his room did naught to rouse your body. It was him, simply him.

"I've missed you," he spoke soft and sweetly with cool lips resting patiently below your ear. His heated breath a spreading raised goosebumps to the surface of the skin on your neck. Pulling back to glance at him, you internally gasped. The verve burning in his eyes as he stared at you unwaveringly, was startlingly surprising. The passion swirling in his chocolate orbs were strange but not unfamiliar. Still, they held his desire and lust, but there was something else mixed in that was unknown, and didn't belong there. It made your heart speed up and palpitate uncomfortably beneath your ribs.

Scowling, your eyes dropped at his words and your own foolish flare of emotions. Of course he missed you, but not in the same way you missed him.

"You just missed my pussy Yoongi," you said unfiltered because it was true and despite knowing that truth, you hated the way your heart pained with a tinge of sadness.

‘No! Feelings weren't to be caught’, you scolded yourself mentally. It was unfortunate enough that you were already addicted to the sex with him. A weakness that you were failingly to recover from, a flaw Yoongi exploited with sick joy. The extent of this relationship carried no purpose beyond a way to release the sexual tension. 

Temporarily rectified by secretive fucking behind his best friend and your boyfriend, Namjoon's back. Any feelings could and would utterly ruin you, except in the recess of your mind, you knew it was too late. The opening for evacuating slipped through your fingers the moment you opened your legs for him.

"It's okay because I've missed your cock." You tried cooing seductively, the partial lie trailing with the hand maneuvering between your frames as you lightly palm him through his sweatpants. An exciting jolt and rush of arousal raced down your spine at the discovery of his cock already at half-mast. Yoongi hummed appreciatively at the feeling of the palm of your hand rubbing slow circles on his clothed member.

"Hmm, are you sure that's all you miss?" he asked his hands languidly stroking your waist.

"I can assure you, your tight little pussy isn't all that I missed from you." His eyes burned into you like he was capable of seeing the hidden parts of your soul. Jarred, your palming slowed down to a stop. Your hands falling limply to your sides and brow bone turning down into a perplexed frown.

"Y-Yoongi, what are you talking about?" You tried pulling away from his hold, exceedingly confused to the implication behind his words. That out of place, foreign emotion whirling deeper, burning brighter in his eyes. 

This wasn't like Yoongi, in fact, it was unnervingly out of character. He wasn't one for teasing or insignificant banter. Honestly, you were surprised you were still on your feet and clothed. If this were like any another of your previous encounters, you would already be on your back. Legs lewdly spread, your gushing pussy filled to the brim, trapped in the clutches of primal fulfillment.

"W-what are you talking a-about." He mocked, tongue sucking his teeth.

"Don't try and deny it. I see right through you. In you."

Enthralled, Yoongi pushing you towards his bed didn't register in your muddled brain until the plush softness of his bedspread cradled your spine. You flinches as hands slammed down beside you caging your head in among extended elbows and bent knees straddled over trembling thighs. 

Yoongi drew his head down to your neck and like a bitch in heat, your neck craned effortlessly. Lips parting for the escape of an airy whine at his warm lips on your skin. The next Picasso in the making he nipped at the column of your neck, sucking your skin with differing pressure, painting the bare canvas with blotches of cherry and mulberry.

Another big no-no.

"Y-you can't see a-anything, because t-there is nothing t-to s-see." you lied again, stuttering terribly in between breathless pants. Yoongi chuckled, you could feel his leer against your skin.

"I can feel it-," he said with a tender lick to the blemishes littering your neck. His head moved down your chest, irritatingly feather-light pecks left by a brush of his lips. His mouth coming to rest over the swell of your breast where your heart pounded furiously below his lips. "-the way your heart beats for me."

A large hand abandoned its post beside your head, cupping a breast wrapped in delicate silk. Gently he massaged the soft tissue, alternating amidst firm and gently caresses. The meat of your breast spilling between clenching fingers. You arched your chest further into his hands, fluctuations of venereal relief rippled from his touch, your throat fluttering out moans. Warm wetness engulfed your other unused breast. Helpless you keened lustily and flagrantly, as flat teeth nipped at the hardened nub poking through the material of your gown. 

Another lusty moan rumbled from your throat as a thick tongue began laving around the bud to soothe the sting of his bite. Your nipple stiffened further the cold air hitting the wet splotch, as Yoongi detached from the fabric encased teat. With seductive chocolate feline-like eyes scorching with ardor. His gaze lingered to your exposed thighs and the bunched up bundle of cloth resting on the apex of your legs.

Your heart throbbed in a frenzy when you noticed the focus of his gaze. Was he actually thinking about eating you out? As long as this affair has been occurring, never did he perform the act, or hint at wanting to. Judging by the cockiness of his rap lyrics, its apparent he is confident in his skills. 

There was usually little to no foreplay, with your pussy easily dripping like the cock slut it has proven to be. Not much needed to be done to have you soaking for Yoongi. A couple of rough fingering thrusts with stomach coiling pressure against your g-spot and you were ready to meet him raw and ready.

A lecherous leer quirked the corner of his lips, he trained his eyes on you as he shifted down your body, his stomach now flat against the bed. You yelped when frigid fingertips seized the flesh of your thighs yanking you closer to his face. The rest of your nightgown rising up to rest in a crumpled heap underneath your breast. He snickered condescendingly at the exposure of the slick wetness coating the center of your panties. 

Unfazed, thick fingers pressed into your dampness, collecting more of your arousal in the seat of your panties. You always got so wet for him, copious fluid dribbling to catch between your ass cheeks, your cunt pulsating wildly in anticipation, eager for his next move. With no hesitation, Yoongi pushed his nose into your pussy, the tip nudged against your covered clit, shamelessly breathing in your fragrance deeply.

"I can even smell it." Another deep inhale through his nose and a hot exhale through his mouth.

“So sweet.”

He pushed your panties to the side, a trail of sticky slick following its wet departure.

"I bet I could even taste it. How much you missed me."

You whimpered, your hips shoving up in silent desperation. You wanted, no needed Yoongi to give you more. You weren't accustomed to being teased, never having to beg. Yoongi always delivered with hip bruising, backbreaking, unrestrained strokes, his cock splitting your walls in rapid succession. That was what you were accustomed too. It was what you thought he wanted, the foundation of this liaison, fast and rough fucks. This time something was off. Things were changing, his intentions shifting, and you were scared, deathly frightened. 

That even an ounce of his true affection, would overpower you. The taking over of your being complete, the tipping point of your inevitable overdose. An abrupt bloom of pleasure unfurled in your lower gut as Yoongi spread your pussy lips lewdly. The thumb of his hand hooked deep within your ribbed walls, your cunt clenched tightly around the thick digit. The stark temperature difference of his thumb and the torrid heat of his ascending tongue drew a high- pitched yelp from your throat. Searing energy blossomed through your core as the tip of his tongue flicked off your fattened clit at his first swipe. Brazen and amplified he sucked on his pink muscled appendage mouth parting loudly with a pop.

"You taste delicious, sweet like I said," he complimented before burying his face in your pussy. His thick tongue squirmed within your core joining his thumb, as it shoved as deep as it could reach before it started flicking out in an amalgam of movements liquifying your insides. You cried out helplessly throwing your head back against the mattress, your hips angled high pressed against his face to him feed more of your cunt.

"Tell me I’m better," He spoke around mouthfuls of your center. You whined, his words cutting through the buzzing vibrations in your ears. He was better than Namjoon, on a different spectrum. It was evident in how your body sang for him, how your hips ground helplessly on the twisting muscle inured so fathomlessly in your cunt. But you couldn't say it, you wouldn't dare say it out loud even though the words burned the base of your throat. That was too close in crossing forbidden territory.

"Tell me how much you missed me." His tongue drew your clit in his mouth, plush lips sucking the corded nub.

"No!" You denied him for the first time.

You just couldn't say those words no matter how much your vocals cords seized to shout the words Yoongi’s request. A muffled chuckle spilled out of him at your surprising defiance. He was calm in his movements, his thumb dragging along your walls to shift to press up against your g-spot, applying pressure with each outward stroke. His gaze was heated, staring at you over the mound of your cunt, balmy puffs of air fanning over your jumping clit as he spoke.

"Tell me how much you missed this. Us. How right this feels."

"Tell me how much better I am than him-" he demanded again. "-can he make your body sing like I can?"

"Y-Yoongi," you gasped harshly sweat permeated on your skin. Descending over the valley of your breasts in opaque pearls. You couldn't say it. Ceasing his stroking thumb, the whine bubbling in your throat was choked down by the replacement of two of his fingers. Scissoring them apart, his fingers curved on your g-spot assaulting the area with pressurized tenacity. With lips back on your clit sucking all the collected fluids down his greedy throat. Your teeth clenched together, hands fisting into the bedspread, your thighs shuddering terribly around his body.

"How much you wished, that was me fucking your pussy 5 days ago instead of him."

You gasped at his words surprise and fear mixed with lust, distorting your features into an almost comical expression. Yoongi laughed cynically.

"Didn't think I'd find out, would you kitten?"

Fucking Namjoon was more so out of guilt than some kind of vendetta against Yoongi. Namjoon was your boyfriend for fuck's sake, you couldn't go on denying him for much longer without him becoming suspicious; if he wasn't already.

"N-o, no!" Still you denied him, unwillingly to come to terms with the truth, both the latter and internally.

Toes folded in on themselves as Yoongi sped him his fingers to deep thrusting aimed directly for the spongy bundled of nerves. Your orgasm started intensified at an alarming pace, you could feel it in the way your stomach cramped. How your hips sloppily thrust toward Yoongi's face, your back arched off the bed. Soft, euphoric cries ruptured from your larynx, binding themselves onto the edge of every fleeting gaspy breath disbanding in the air. You slapped your hands over your mouth to muffle your scream, the sudden snapping ties of your pleasure, hitting you with the force of a freight train. Your upper body flailed around on the bed, unrestrained portions of your legs kicking out at the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes pricked with tears and lungs suffocated as they were robbed of air.

Floating in post-orgasmic limbo, you vaguely registered his fingers withdrawal from your clenching cunt or the shuffling of his sweats pants down his hips or he hiking of your legs to perch against his waist. It wasn't until the fevered eagerness of his leaking cock head pressing against your quivering core, did you return from the clouds. 

Yoongi stroked the skin of your thighs with sticky tenderness, his face coming closer to yours to capture your chapped lips in a sweet kiss. You gasped in frail distress and shock, your heart constricted tightly within your chest. Stars bursted behind your eyes at the strange feeling of his lips moving against your own. Another act taboo in the relationship that was this. Yoongi seized the perfect opportunity to ease his tongue into your mouth, dancing with your own. He was tart with your flavor, mixed with his addicting treacle.

Gradually his cock split your glossy folds, breaching your cunt's hole with the tip of his cock. You cried out in his mouth, detaching your lips from his. A string of conjoined spittle landing on your cheek as you turned your head to the side. Yoongi's lips followed you, connecting your mouth once again as he began surging his cock, deep, deep, and deeper. The slow pace allowing you to feel the burning stretch, every eager throb of his cock, every engorged vein pulsing under his skin. 

Yoongi didn't give you much time to adjust as he started his leisure strokes. He barely withdrew before he was spearing you back on his cock, much deeper than before. Tearing your mouth from him again, you gasp with the stinging need of air, a forearm coming over to cover your face. The bright light of the lamp on his nightstand shining across your face suddenly a nuisance, as you greedily swallowed in the fresh air between mewling cries of pleasure.

"Does your slutty pussy squeeze him as tight as your squeezing me?" Yoongi grunted reducing his already sluggish pace, his hips rotating with each stroke.

Your head felt like it was ready to implode. You were overheating, short-circuiting, the blood in your veins boiling and curdling. Namjoon infiltrated your thoughts, his kind hardworking nature, how much he loved and adored you, but was it enough? Did you even love him anymore? Or were you stolen away by the man he considers his brother? It was all becoming too much, Yoongi's slow strokes and demanding queries were causing you to overthink. You needed him to speed up, to fuck your brains out so you wouldn't have to be pestered with your evolving thoughts.

"Yoongi, I-I need you to speed up. I want you to fuck me faster, fuck me harder please!" You begged as if your life depended on the tempo of his thrusts, and in a way it did, at least your sanity did.

"Shhh" he cooed. One of his hands abandoning its place on your lifted legs, to come and pry your arms away from your face. Your breath hitched as your blurry gaze focused in on the unbridled emotion raging in his dark eyes.

"Tell me I'm the one you want." He eased out of your body, grunting lowly as your cunt clutched desperately at his retreating cock.

"Tell me I'm the only one who owns you, who owns your heart." Again he sunk back within your depths.

"Tell me you love me and not him, and I'll fuck you until your coming on my cock."

Yoongi promised in one swift stroke buried deep within your cunt, speeding up his thrust to his usually relentless rhythm. You screamed in familiar delight, arms wrapping around his neck in a loop. Your breast crushed into his chest, fingernails embedded in his shoulder leaving raised red crescents. You could already feel your second orgasm approaching, your cunt enclosing Yoongi's cock in a vice-like grip, you never lasted long when he rammed into you like this. It was what you needed, the perfect escape to the feelings boiling in your chest. Another mind-numbing orgasm and he would follow suit, then you could leave and close this chapter of your life, the end of a book with a bittersweet ending.

"Oh, no you don't." Yoongi tsked. He knew the telltale signs of your orgasm, he ruled your body with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. Reducing his strokes to that of a snail's pace, he laughed at your wail of frustration, a bead of sweat dropping off his body at the shake of his shoulders. How obtuse of you to think he was going to let you come without you telling him what he's been dying to hear from your lips the whole night, for months.

"Say it. Open that pretty mouth sweetheart and tell me what I want to hear." Yoongi cooed, his cock now surging into your depths with shallow, unfulfilling strokes.

"Yoo-ngi." You hiccuped clamping your eyes tight. The coiling tightness of your orgasm was still there, maybe if you concentrated hard enough-

"Say it! Tell me you love, how I love you!" Your eyes flew open, dilating to focus on a blurred image of Yoongi. Him? Love you? How? Why?

"Yes, I love you." He said smoothly, no hesitation, not an inkling of regret, just confidence and love glimmering in his eyes.

"Now. Tell me you love me too and don't lie." Yoongi reiterated with a rough thrust.

"I-I don-" your mouth opened and closed, a fish out of the water you were caught. You fell back on to the bed, a hand placed on your chest over the blood-filled organ crashing against your chest. Your heart captured by another, no longer could you deny it, deny him, deny yourself. So with a heavy heart...you told him. "I love you."

You didn't want to. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. A one-time thing, he...you let escalate too far. Now it was too late. The truth was out now, and all hell was about to break loose.

"Tell me again."

You strangled on a wad of spit at the sudden rough thrust, your teeth clanking together at the single motion. "I love you."

Yoongi groaned loudly, the loudest you think you've ever heard from him at your affectionate confession. His hands readjusted themselves off your thighs to better support himself as he began lifting his your legs to rest on your chest, your knees pushed into your breast. Immediately his hips set off at a fast pace, the slaps of his balls hitting your ass nearly rivaled the shout of pleasure or the wet slapping of where you were connected. 

Your hips met his with bruising contact, but you didn't care, the angle of his cock drilled at your g-spot relentlessly. Black and white dots floating in your vision, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Jumbled repeats of his name wretched themselves from your lips, you were sure the other boys in the shared apartment could hear your cries of satisfaction. Namjoon as well.

You didn't care, your love for Yoongi, the feeling of his cock in your guts, was the only thing on your mind. A couple of more thrust and your orgasm was ripped from you, your legs thrashing about in Yoongi's hold. The sweet pull of your cunt on his cock bringing forth his own release, and with one last surge of his hips, the bulbous head kissing your cervix, he spurted warm ropes of his cum straight into your womb. Breathlessly he dropped your legs from his hands, a mixed wad of your and his cum spilling out from around him. Gently he withdrew and fell onto the bed beside you, lowly he sighed in satisfaction.

"Tell me again."

You told him.