#flymefic

Your boyfriend is shirtless, which is a rare sight you've only recently earned the privilege to witness. Your gaze travels softly over every line and contour of his body, from the defined curve of his collarbone down to the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath the white blankets. He appears like an angel in this state–so vulnerable and sexy.

This is the first time you've slept over at your new boyfriend's house. The relationship is new, but your feelings for one another aren't. The two of you have finally decided to become official after months of quiet yearning and distant, shy flirting mostly from a distance. 

Your rustling must interrupt his sleep, because Yoongi's nose crinkles and his peaceful aura is stolen from him; he's now frowning due to his return to consciousness. His eyes blink open, heavy and disoriented at first, but the instant they land on you, a gentle warmth floods his expression. His mouth curves upward in a soft and inviting smile reserved exclusively for these intimate moments with you. Your heart skips at the sight of it, prompting a mirrored smile on your own lips.

"Hi," he greets you groggily.

You swallow the fatigue of your sleep with a delighted expression. Your mouth tastes of dull toothpaste.

"Good morning," you reply softly.

"Roll over," he instructs you. His morning voice is conflicting with his command; his tone is alluring and sweet, but his voice is deep in a low grumble.

You don't question him. In your time of knowing each other, you've found that you quite enjoy everything that he tells you to do when you're unsure of the outcome. It is part of your journey to gaining more experience. You're finally giving into what feels right, and you don't want to be so naive anymore. You want your boyfriend, and oh does he want you too, but you are relying on his experience to lead the way.

Warmth blooms beneath your skin as you obediently roll onto your side. You turn your back to him while biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to contain the fluttering anticipation rising in your chest. Your nerves hum quietly as you await his touch. When Yoongi’s arm slips around your waist, hooking possessively yet softly around your stomach, you flinch ever so slightly. His palm settles flat against your belly button to pull you in until you're flush against him.

You slide effortlessly across the sheets until your back presses snugly into his chest. A small, involuntary giggle escapes your lips as your back nestles snugly into his chest. 

He holds you close, the strength of his arm leaving no room for you to move away. Each breath feels tighter, more constrained as your body molds perfectly into his. His half-naked frame presses insistently against yours, compelling your knees to bend, making room for him to claim even more space.

"There," he sighs with satisfaction.

When you turn your head to steal a glance at his face, Yoongi's eyes are closed and he is pretending to go back to sleep. His body is so firmly pressed to yours that you feel like you are sinking into the mattress. He overtakes you completely, capturing your frame within his embrace easily. You don't complain about your position because you like it; you are finally cuddling. You smile to yourself with your expression hidden from him and relax into the mattress.

Yoongi breathes steadily behind you. You try to control your own breathing as you feel his touch gently against your skin. His soft fingertips have found their way under the oversized material of his shirt that you're wearing; your skin feels hot and sensitive there now. His expansive hand and delicate fingertips are sliding against your skin with every breath you take.

You try your hardest not to squirm each time he nears the top of your pajama pants. You're not used to touches being on your body so casually, and especially not anywhere near your sensitive inner thighs.

"You aren't a friendly sleeper," Yoongi breathes. You can feel his chest as it vibrates with every word.

You grow concerned at his comment. "What do you mean?"

"This is your first time touching you since last night," he chuckles deeply. His morning voice is making your cheeks blush; he could be saying anything and you would be allured. "You want to keep me at a distance..."

"Oh no," you say worriedly. "Did I kick you?"

"Many times."

You are so embarrassed. Not only when you are awake do you make a fool out of yourself, but now you can't even sleep in a bed correctly with someone else in it? Now that Yoongi has mentioned this, you have a vague memory of hitting your arm roughly against his chest last night. Your silence must alert him to your overactive thinking process, because his lips meet the back of your neck with a lingering peck to comfort you. Your attempt to shy away from him turns into a shoulder roll because you can't move.

"It's okay," he easily assures you with sweet words, "I just...missed touching you."

His mouth is so close to your ear that you can almost feel each word as he communicates with you. Is it normal to shudder at every sexual thought you think about him? Is it even normal to have so many sexual thoughts about him? You wish there were some way for you to know if your actions and thoughts were average for someone who is in a relationship. You don't know if it is because you've just woken up, but it's taking less than usual to make you want to cross your legs. You place your hand atop his and squeeze it to control your new frustrations instead.

"I'm sorry," you apologize for your midnight thrashing. "I guess...I guess it's because you're not used to sleeping next to anyone. Don't take it personally."

His thumb begins to brush against your hand, and it is perfectly matched with the flutter of sweet kisses he is leaving on the back of your neck now. Goosebumps rise on your skin with every kiss that he leaves. you're in heaven. You have never felt so amazing after just waking up, and all it's taking is some soft kisses against your skin. Yoongi's hand moves upward towards your chest, and your hand follows atop it.

"You also frown in your sleep…"

His words do not distract you from his touch.

His fingertips now feel cold when he trails them up closer to your breasts. Instantly your body is in a panic, not knowing what to do as his plump lips so delicately continue to kiss your skin, and now as his hand is exploring your chest. You inhale sharply when he squeezes your breast in his hand. Your hips flex, and your butt snuggles into his crotch when he begins to squeeze at your very sensitive nipple. Your body stills; being in a semi-state of sleepiness is making every touch amplified.

Yoongi mumbles against your skin, "you must be having bad dreams."

Your shirt slips loosely over your shoulder, the collar merely nudged aside by the insistence of his mouth. His kisses trail warmly across the curve of your shoulder, the softness of his hair brushing delicately against your cheek. Every gentle, lingering touch against your breasts sends waves of pleasure cascading through you, each sensation perfectly placed and deliberate. His earlier words dissolve from your mind, replaced entirely by the intensity of this intimate moment.

Your ass is pressing so hard into him that you can feel his throbbing cock growing. Your eyes don't go wide in shock this time; instead, you moan under your breath at how good he feels against you. It's turning you on that your body can make him react like this… and that his touches can make you react like this. You continue to move your ass against him because you can feel his breath change every time you do so.

Your hand squeezes his, which in turn makes his hand squeeze more harshly against your breast. It was an involuntary reaction, but now that you've done it, you do it again to control his hand as it moves against your pleasure points. Somehow Yoongi is making your pussy throb without even touching you there. You can feel yourself getting wet from his outer touches; your shuddering is a result of this.

Yoongi is smirking against you as his teeth pull at your skin. The sensation stings, but only for a moment, because his lips are trailing up and down your shoulder, creating a mixture of different sensations. He forces your hands to switch positions, making your palm meet your own breast as he controls your fingertip movements. You are surprised that your own hand can make you feel similar to how he does it.

"Feels nice, hm?" he coaxes, referring to your own touches against yourself.

You're nodding because you don't want to speak. You're scared that you are allowing yourself to get too carried away with your intimacy that you will climax too soon. You can feel pressure starting to build in the pit of your stomach; small whimpers escape your mouth as you try to suppress your feelings.

"Answer me, baby," he demands huskily.

"Yes," you say just above a breath.

His hand clasps yours, pulling it away from your breast softly. You can feel your own fingertips as they trail down towards your belly button, and then torturously slow against your navel. Your breathing quickens when he begins to urge your conjoined hands under your pajama pants. You don't protest at all; your hand has no resistance as he moves into your intimate area. You're in awe that you're mentally begging to be touched there.

Your hips flex again when he sinks your fingers into your wet folds. You moan through a bit lip when his skilled slender fingertips guide yours to start rubbing smooth circles against yourself. His cock is throbbing and much more prominent now against your ass; he is so hard. His length isn't tamed by tight fitted briefs, but loose pajama material.

"Oh, fuck, you sound so hot," he whispers lowly. 

Yoongi is manipulating your fingertips into circles against your wet clit, and you almost can't recognize the difference of it being your own fingers. The pleasure isn't prejudice to your touch. Yoongi's lips are continuing with the absentminded kisses at your shoulder, but they are getting swallowed by how intense the pleasure is between your thighs. Your right leg bends to expose yourself more easily to his—no, your touches.

"Oh, Yoongi…" you moan, his name falling breathlessly from your lips.

You don't notice that he has retracted his hand until you feel his hand at your ass. Your eyes are screwed shut as you continue to play with your throbbing clit, mirroring the motions he was doing to you. His name trembles from your lips as you continue to touch yourself. The mattress moves slightly at his shift of weight.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he is speaking softly now; shallow breathing occupying his usual deep demeanor.

You stop moving your fingers against yourself when you feel his hand pull your pajama pants down just enough to expose your ass to him. Your eyes drowsily look down under the blanket at what he is doing; Yoongi has pulled his own pants down also, and he is jerking his hard cock beside you. The sight makes you bite your lip because of how absolutely breathtaking you find such an intimate moment to be. Yoongi doesn't mind you seeing him like this.

You trust in him that he won't do anything that you will find uncomfortable, so you don't object. You don't say anything. Feeling his body against you, as his chest leans forward, sends the familiar tingles through your body, and your fingers continue so that you can feel the pleasure again. . . it's addicting.

"Baby," Yoongi says to get your attention. you open your eyes to see his hand at your mouth. "Spit."

His eyes trail from your lips and to his hand. He can't possibly be asking you to actually spit in his hand?

Yoongi's lazy smile at your naivety reappears and it is as if he is reading your mind. "Yes, into my hand."

You do as you're told because you know that your confusion is due to your ignorance. The drool drips from your mouth and into his palm; you would expect this sight to usually unnerve or gross someone out, but no: Yoongi is greedy in that he even wipes his fingers against your lips to catch all of your saliva. Your chest feels heavy when you watch his hand, which has your spit all over it, wrap around his cock to pump himself.

"Yes... fuck, baby," he praises you with every stroke he makes.

You swallow hard and allow your head to fall back into the pillow. Oh my goodness, you squeal on the inside. The peculiar image of him using your spit to lubricate himself has made your body want him even more. This is wrong…isn't it? You should feel exposed and shy with your ass exposed to him and his cock so…close to you, but you don't. You don't think you never will again.

You can hear his palm as it slides up and down his coated length. With your eyes screwed shut, and your fingers trying to replicate the feeling of him touching your aching pussy, the euphoric feeling continues to climb higher and higher. It's then that you feel him grip your thigh into his hand. Your muscle flexes beneath his touch and his fingertips dig even harder into you, forcing your thighs to meet one another.

"Thinking of me?" he urges in a deep breath; a bit cocky in his tone.

Every inch of your body feels exposed and sensitive. Even the temperature in the room seems to be adding to the sensations. You can barely control your wild thoughts and breathing.

"Yes," you confess breathlessly, "Your mouth. . . Y-Your fingers. . ."

The descriptions are out of your mouth without much hesitance. The way he speaks to you when you are intimate has encouraged your mind to be thoughtless and react the same. Given the appreciative grunt you hear from him when his hand begins to slow down against his slick and sticky cock, you're smiling to yourself that your small voice was able to affect him.

"You're such a good girl for me," he mutters lowly as he watches you.

You're moving your hips against your fingers as you begin to find a steady pleasure. You cry in the heat of your emotions, "I want you."

You're talking about something that you are very much afraid of, yet the beg escapes your lips so easily in this state of mind. Thinking about how easily he could penetrate you, and how easily his throbbing cock could slide inside your wet aching insides, is exciting you. You know it's your hormones and the ecstasy taking over your mind, but you want him. It's clouding your judgement.

"Fuck," he soothes your begging with a small shake of his head, refusing your plea. He places a kiss against the back of your arm. "Let's get used to each other first, hm?"

You're nodding even though you don't know what he is talking about. "Mhm."

You can feel his hand as it grips your hip, controlling your ass easily. He pulls your body back with his palm; you jolt forward, taken back when you feel his cock in-between your thighs.

"Oh, fuck," Yoongi groans. "Your body is so perfect body for me..."

His audible breathing is enough to make the odd sensation not feel odd at all. You can feel the base of him against your ass each time he rocks his hips into you. His swollen, sticky tip brushes against your folds and you clench your thighs around him with a whimper.

"Your beautiful thighs," he continues with his sensual words; he kisses your cheek. You are totally out of your comfort zone, yet you are too curious and intrigued in what is happening to want to stop. You love the way he sounds, and the way Yoongi's body is against you. You can feel him thrusting into you, his slick cock slipping back and forth against your wet thighs.

Yoongi's fingertips are on your hips as he holds you steady. Your skin ripples from his firm grip. He is not gentle with how hard he digs his fingertips into you to control you, allowing himself to seamlessly rock into you and use your thighs for his own pleasure. You close your eyes and continue to touch yourself. . . your fingertips are drenched and slide so easily against your clit. The thought of being able to feel him fingering you without him actually doing anything— is an awakening. The way your body reacts is proof of that.

Moans are escaping you breathlessly. Yoongi is groaning, so deep in low octaves, above you as your fingers work frivolously in your throbbing insides. You don't have much time to get comfortable with your head against the pillow, because Yoongi has your hair in his hand, pulling you so that your back is flat against him, and so that he can bring his lips to your cheek. His kiss is gentle, and in great contrast to how rough he is being with his hands.

His lips are at your ear when he speaks.

"So fucking sexy," he mutters, "...and mine."

You don't hiss with pain when he tugs at your hair. He pulls harshly to force your neck back. You feel your climax quickly approaching, and your thighs are beginning to sway lazily with no connection to your brain. Yoongi releases your hair, holding your thigh down to create pressure for his length. His slow thrusts are becoming faster.

Your head falls forward and that's when it hits you: the seemingly never ending free fall of an orgasm that you think will only ever feel this way with him. Your body is practically twitching when you remove your hand from in-between your thighs with sticky fingers.

You are heaving for breath as Yoongi continues, but only for a moment longer before he pulls away from between your thighs. Yoongi's hand is around his length when you fall into the bed. Your eyes meet his, and his breathing is rapid and sharp as he pumps his warm cum down onto your chest. The sticky substance drips from the valley of your breasts down towards your stomach.

It has been nearly an hour of waiting in this beer infested swamp of an alleyway. You'd think that after many months of Silver Tooth's growing popularity that the employees at The Waypoint would figure out how to work by now. You grimace as the smell of weed and garbage engulf your senses.

Fia is quick in a defense. "I already told you that we can't go backstage because of him."

"Because of Slash?" you ask for clarification.

Slash is their drummer. He's well known because no one knows who he is; he conceals his identity using a skull mask and a stage name. You've only ever seen pictures of him— or his body, rather— in the articles online. He's the main reason why you are apprehensive about coming out tonight.

Fia nods, "we can't see who he is."

Even without knowing who he is, publicized medias have made it their mission to tell the general public; newspapers have plastered everything and anything about Silver Tooth in the entertainment section. The mystery behind the mask has enticed their audience. The newspapers portray Slash as being dangerous and horrific, and the rumors surrounding him serve as a testament to his danger. It brings an unwelcoming feeling to the pit of your stomach. Slash is mentioned in all rumors regarding disappearances, murders and shady business.

"...shouldn't we be worried for Hoseok?" you question her. Your friend is now assumed to be in the lion's den with this guy. He's been practicing nonstop with the band for the past few weeks.

"No," Fia rolls her eyes. "I'm sure those stories are just for publicity."

"They could be true," you mumble.

There's something eery and unsettling about the atmosphere surrounding the band. This is obvious just by the look of their venue choice; The Waypoint is the grimiest bar, yet it is the only place Silver Tooth ever conducts their shows. It's a pity, really. That's why it's almost impossible to get a ticket— the bar is compact and located in a bad part of town.

You can't tell if it's excitement or nervousness that you feel when the line starts to move into the bar. Your throat feels dry and the preconceived attitude towards tonight has started to eat at your insides. You follow behind Fia in conscious steps after you present your ticket to the bouncer. A bright green band is slapped around your wrist, indicating your admittance to the afterparty.

Immediately you're welcomed by dim lighting and a crowd that pans towards the small stage at the back of the bar. You don't realize you're clenching your first on the back of Fia's shirt until she turns around to look at you.

"Relax," she chuckles. "Just wait until you see Slash play."

"You've come here before?" you gape with wide eyes.

It's then that your body is jostled forward by the influx of people coming in behind you. Both you and Fia are pushed along with the rest of the crowd, and it's as if no one cares about getting a drink as they fight for a spot closest to the stage. Fia is one of those people, pulling you along with her to evade the other Silver Tooth fans. You stumble over your own feet a couple of times before catching your breath.

Fia looks at you, and you force a smile to assure her you're okay. You aren't. You are already standing in another puddle of alcohol and chips; the sensation of crumbling food is enough to make you want to go home. People continue to shove you forward even though there is no where to go. Your thighs are scraping against the edge of the stage.

"Murder me, Slash!" a girl screams during the momentary silence.

Everyone in the crowd erupts in cheers. You can't believe it, eyes wide again because the people around you reference his murdering accusations so lightly. It doesn't comfort you at all; they're fans. They don't want to believe it. But you do.

"He's everyone's favorite," Fia tells you, presumably reading your expression. Her voice gets muffled slightly from the chatter around you.

You lighten your own mood by saying, "maybe Hoseok will change that."

The two of you start laughing at the thought of your mutual friend. Hoseok has been passionate about guitar ever since he was young. Given the breakout success of Silver Tooth, you were proud of him for chasing after his dream; however, you still worried that the reputation following the band would affect him. You worried that the reasons there was an opening for him would result in the same demise. The only thing you could hope for tonight is that somehow your mind would be changed.

Your heart jumps when the sound of a fumbling microphone fills the air. The speakers are too big for the tiny space, and the sound echoing from the sound system causes you to flinch each time a tap is made at the microphone. The crowd is restless and rowdy; they cheer for almost everything.

"Who's ready for a show?" the man on the stage asks with great enthusiasm. His voice blares into your ears through the microphone. The feeling of bodies behind you has yet to stop, and only gets worse as the crowd erupts into more loud screams.

You're squinting at the MC until you realize that you know who he is— Siwon. He is the owner of this shit-hole that you're standing in. He's partially responsible for why you will probably have to buy new sneakers after tonight. 

"It is my honor to present to you a band that feels like they could be my sons," he says. "Their loyalty to only playing at The Waypoint has continued through all of their success. I am so proud to manage these dickheads."

The crowd enjoys everything this man says. Fia glances at you with a knowing expression. She leans into your ear. "He was the first person to let them play in public. They haven't left since."

"Humble of them," you remark sarcastically.

This man is only here to appease the horrifying rumors about Silver Tooth and touch some heartstrings.

"Have an open mind," she nudges you. You glance at her touch and notice the flask she is offering.

"I didn't realize you were such a fangirl," you joke, but there's truth in that. You had no idea Fia found guilty pleasure in standing in a sweaty, head banging mosh-pit.

You exhale and shrug to yourself before backing down a large sip of the stinging liquid from the flask. It burns the back of your throat, but nothing could hurt less than your dignity at the moment. The alcohol is wet against your lips when the cold metal leaves your mouth, and Fia doesn't waste a moment to do the same.

You smile at each other as the low sound of guitar starts humming throughout the air.

Surprisingly, no one in the crowd cheers. All is silent besides the strumming guitar. The lights have turned an icy blue, and seemingly from the shadows of the stage walks out the lead guitarist. You don't know his name. You glance behind you at the crowd, but no one is moving. The blue hues of light have cascaded down on each stranger's face, but their facial expressions almost look hypnotized. For a moment you feel as though that could be canon, but suddenly the guitar starts to pick up slightly and everyone puts their hands in the air.

Looking back at the stage, it's as if it is a one man show. The guy's fingertips are moving so fast yet so slow on each string of the guitar. You are intrigued by his skill, and the melody is addicting as well. Your heart is racing along with the building tempo of the music. It's then that another guitar joins with a large, dominant strum of one of the chords. It's Hoseok.

"Oh my God!" Fia gasps, only glancing at you for a moment to not miss anything.

The two guitarists appear to be riffing against each other. There are still no cheers from the crowd; you feel like you're missing out on an inside fandom ritual. The music is filling every inch of the place, not sharing with any other sounds. You catch your jaw agape before snapping out of the intense haze. The calmness doesn't last for long.

The lights suddenly turn a crimson red simultaneously as a loud bang of the drums erupts. The spotlight is on him. The crowd goes wild with shouts and cheers.

Oxygen evades your pores and you hitch a breath from the back of your throat. You're scared to swallow or move; chills rack up from your spine but you force yourself to stare. Slash has made his appearance merely five feet from you, and you can't seem to grasp the touch of reality for a moment as your eyes first lay on him. You feel scared, in some deep rooted, bedtime nightmare sort of way. The presence of the dark and ghostly features of the skull mask have presented themselves as a trigger for your fears. It excites you.

Silver Tooth's main vocalist has finally appeared, and once his mouth opens to start the lyrics of the song, the crowd is jumping up and down with wild hands and yells. You can't stop staring at Slash; his arm muscles are already glistening in sweat as they work seamlessly to guide the two drumsticks. His masked head is nodding as he plays— it looks effortless.

"Come on!" Fia tugs on your arms to get you to jump along with her.

You can't help but do it. The music is better than you expected from an underground band like them; your body starts to jump to the beat, and your hands are in the air before you can stop yourself. Alcohol is partly to blame for your excitement, but the band is still impressive nonetheless.

You feel guilty for not watching Hoseok, but your eyes are trapped in a Slash fantasy world. Every inch of his exposed body has got you hooked. Knowing there is a boundary between you two has given you much needed relief.

It's the last song on the setlist and you're soaked in sweat before you know it. You can feel the strands of hair sticking to your neck, but the chaotic and crowded atmosphere that you hated in the beginning has now fueled you to keep going.

The crowd is chanting the words to the song, and one part in particular causes the whole bar to get involved. Slash then stands up from his drum set.

"What's going on?" you look at Fia worriedly.

"It's just a thing he does," she assures you nonchalantly.

You're terrified as the masked ghost makes his way to the edge of the stage. The guitar is still going on without him, but his covered eyes are now searching the crowd with his arm extended out. Your eyes can't help but travel downward to critique the rest of his body. You're mentally having a panic attack at the sight of his muscular physique— now especially including his thighs. Fitted in a white sleeveless tee and tight, leather looking pants, he has gotten you more worked up than you want to admit.

"Me!" shouts begin from the strangers beside you in the pit.

Me? What are they volunteering for?

You lose your breath again when he jumps down into the pit. Surprisingly, no one rushes at him. Everyone in the crowd moves aside for him to walk freely. Your eyebrows raise in shock at the fact that Slash is now walking just beside you. You back away into the people behind you in fear of him singling you out. There is a looming sense of fear plaguing everyone in the crowd. They feed off of it.

"Murder me!" the girl from earlier yells again.

It's a bizarre feeling to watch someone's expressions when they have no facial features. You're forced to examine his body language, and from the sound of the girl's words, he tenses only for a moment before figuring out where to go next. You're holding your breath as you watch him; various people are leaning over others just to touch his shoulder lightly, and others are trying to get him in the background of their selfie. You are standing in shock still— just staring. Each time Slash turns to a different section of the crowd, the people flinch back slightly.

Slash hands a girl across the room his drumstick. The moment he releases the object, she collapses into her friend's arms. Slash doesn't notice, however, because he has already climbed back on the stage to jump around with the rest of the band as the song comes to an end.

"He must go through a lot of drumsticks..." you trail to Fia with a dry throat.

"I wanna fuck myself with his drumstick," she replies vulgarly in a drunken slur. You giggle along with her insanity.

You feel breathless when the setlist ends and the lights go out on stage. Fia's hand is in the air to get Hoseok's attention, and he gives a happy nod at the two of you when he sees her.

Your eyes fall to Slash; his outline is just enough to see him through the darkness. You wait patiently, wanting to catch him taking off his mask, but of course, he doesn't. He is spinning the one drumstick in his hand as he walks off the stage along with Hoseok, the lead singer, and the lead guitarist.

And that's that: your first eye-witness account of Silver Tooth. You don't know whether it's the alcohol or the experience that has made you feel so happy.

"What did you think?" Fia asks you. You can barely understand her slurring mess of pronunciation.

The performance was enough to distract you from your ruined shoes, so you reply, "I liked it."

The crowd is already funneling out. The stage crew has begun to dismember the equipment to make room for the DJ, and when you check the time, it's close to one a.m. The two of you make your way near the bar. You're relieved to lean against a table and catch a breath. There is already a small group of people ordering drinks at the bar, all wearing afterparty wristbands like you and Fia. They must be friends of the band members.

Fia is stumbling over herself to sit on a stool. "I can't even remember what my last name is."

"What?"

"I drank... way... too much," she mumbles. "Anywho, what'd you think of Slash?"

Her insinuating tone of voice and small nudge towards you makes you roll your eyes. The pulsing alcohol in your body isn't enough to make you forget how terrified you were of watching him. It was a weird feeling.

"The mask is terrifying," you admit your thoughts in a slow response. Your words are turning to mush and you can barely get your thoughts in order.

"Apparently he doesn't take the mask off even in the bedroom," she giggles, "if you know what I mean."

"If he's pulling girls with a fucking mask on, then what am I doing wrong?" Hoseok interjects with a bright smile.

Fia's drunken emotions cause her to show a big reaction at the sight of Hoseok. She cheers as if he has just won something, clapping at him with a large smile.

"You were amazing!" she exclaims. "I didn't even notice that Yoongi was missing."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat at the mention of the disappearance. It bothers you that everyone, including your best friend, is acting like this dark cloud following Silver Tooth is something to just be brushed aside. It isn't the matter of just someone going missing— it was that it was someone in your town. You could be next.

"What's wrong?" Hoseok notices your drop in expression.

"Noth—"

Fia interrupts you, "she's worried Slash is going to murder you."

"What the fuck?" Hoseok chuckles.

Your influenced mind has gotten the best of you. "You know what? Yeah, I'm concerned. He scares me."

"It's just a mask—"

"Is it true that he has a bunch of scars and shit underneath it?" Fia interjects.

You huff, "probably from his victims trying to escape him."

It can't be a coincidence that the news reported a skull mask at the place where the old guitarist had been last seen. Unfortunately Slash has never been convicted; anyone can put on a skull mask. You wish you knew more about the mysterious guy. With the distance between him and what you know about him, it made you fearful. You wish it made Fia fearful too.

"Don’t listen to the media," Hoseok scoffs playfully.

"Bad things happen all over town because of him! People getting robbed, beaten, murdered."

"Not because of Slash!" he defends.

Your drunken hand flies up in an exasperating gesture, "how do you know for sure?"

"Careful," an unfamiliar voice interrupts the conversation. "He can probably hear you."

Your heart drops for a moment at the joking stranger. When you look over towards the voice, relief still doesn't rush in; walking towards you is the main vocalist and guitarist— everyone except Slash has made their appearance. It's incredible how attractive each member of this band is. They join you at the table.

"Who the hell cares what he's done anyway. Have you seen his body?" Fia raises her eyebrows.

You can't help but laugh stupidly at your friend's comments. Finding amusement in her total disregard for her well-being is easier than worrying. You're trying to enjoy the night, just as you told yourself before getting here. It's difficult.

"You're not going to introduce us?" the lead guitarist says to Hoseok.

"Oh," he laughs. "Right. Namjoon and Jimin, this is ___ and Fia."

"You should bring them around every week," the singer, Jimin, says slyly. With his dark hair pushed back, and his lean body being exposed through a half buttoned down tucked shirt into jeans, you can't help but blush from his remark. He leans his elbows down on the table in front of you.

Your cheeks heat and you glance away awkwardly to hide your expression.

"Amazing set, guys. Really. I'm a huge fan," Fia compliments them. "And those clothes. I love the tight fitted pants. Especially on Slash."

"You can thank Taehyung for that," Hoseok replies.

"Slash isn't the party type?" you ask. The curiosity has gotten the best of you.

The band members are silent for a moment too long after your question. It isn't until the guitarist, Namjoon, clears his throat with a semi-panicked yet calm response that the silence ends.

"He doesn't come to these things," he says.

Jimin adds with a smirk, "he's too busy finding his next target."

Is he joking? Wide eyes and a panicked feeling overcome you after Jimin's words.

"Who?" a stranger asks.

Everyone at the table looks up. Approaching is yet another pair of men, only this time you have never seen them before.

The one who interjected himself into the conversation is carrying a bunch of drinks over from the bar. Jimin's smile grows and he raises his hands in praise.

"Finally, Jin! I need a fucking drink," he cheers.

The man you only assume to be Jin places the drinks down to the table. His accomplice is quiet and doesn't say anything when he takes a seat across from you. The unnamed man's demeanor is dark and reserved, yet his glinted rounded eyes are somewhat innocent and kind. He has his bottom lip tugged under his teeth, clearly detached from the table of people. His dark hair frames over his face, and intense eyebrows are knitted tightly as he palms a shot glass. You look away quickly when his eyes catch yours. Your heart is racing.

"We were talking about Slash," Fia answers Jin's prior question. You can't help but feel as though the air has gotten tense. Your eyes flick to Jin.

"Ah," he nods. "Don't know him. I'm just the sound guy."

His dismissive response doesn't sit well with you. Jin can't possibly be trying to play it off as if he doesn't know Slash's identity. He was just backstage for the entirety of the night.

"Surely it gets a little hot under that mask," you say.

Jimin starts chuckling after throwing back a shot, "it might be ventilated."

"That piece of shit mask is, like, from the dollar store," Namjoon says and the entirety of the table erupts in a fit of laughter.

You cross your legs, taking a shot from the table and downing it quickly to calm your growing nerves. You don't know why the idea of Slash has made you scared, but you surely can blame the dim lighting and funky smell of the bar for heightening the feeling. Your alcohol influenced mind makes it feel as though you could be on the set of a horror movie. There's an anxious sensation at the end of your nerves.

"We should chill with the jokes," Fia wraps her arm around you and you flinch in surprise. Her drunk arm is like deadweight on your shoulders. "This one here is frightened of your drummer."

You grow timid at everyone's eyes on you. The image of Slash standing so close to you at the edge of the stage is replaying in your head; his built body and intimidating presence is making your skin crawl. You can't help but wonder if the fear has excited you more than frightened you. What has happened to fear protecting you from danger? Why are you more intrigued now that you've entered this infamous lion's den?

You blink from your thoughts, only to make eye contact with the man sitting across from you. His expression is composed and unaltered; it almost appears that a smirk is going to spread to his lips, but your breath staggers when a voice disrupts and you're forced to spare your attention.

"He's a quiet guy," Jimin assures you. "Wouldn't take him for the aggressive type."

"Not even in bed?" Fia leans forward in a soft, drunken purr, almost whispering at Jimin. "Is it true he fucks with his mask on?"

"Why? You into that?" Jimin matches her tone.

The two of them are leaning into each other and everyone is watching them as their lips meet hungrily. You roll your eyes at the two of them with a laugh. Leave it to Fia to find someone with the same twisted fantasy mind as her.

"I would take him for the aggressive type," Jin widens his eyes. The conversation has continued without your best friend and her new fling.

"You would?" Namjoon questions.

"Yeah," Jin nods. "He can break his drumsticks in just one hand."

"He must be practicing for when he does it to people's fingers," Namjoon chuckles before another shot is thrown back.

The one unannounced member of the small group has now decided to get up. He stands silently, almost going unnoticed until you catch a glimpse of his absence from the corner of your eye. He hasn't said a word all night, and now he is quietly maneuvering his way over to the bar. When you look down at all the empty glasses on the table, you decide that drinking water would be your best option. You stand.

"You want anything?" you ask Hoseok before departing.

Hoseok glances at the bar in thought. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before he turns to look at you; a subtle look has marked his features but he just shrugs with a shake of his head.

"No," is all he says.

The music almost feels louder as you make your way over to the bar. With ease you are able to get yourself there, proving the "time heals" narrative true as the alcohol is finally starting not to absolutely overtake every decision you make. You lean your body against the counter, almost brushing against the unspoken stranger from earlier. He has taken a seat, sitting alone and in his own silence away from everyone else. You can feel his eyes on you as yours chase after the bartender.

"You're staring at me," you bravely say. You don't look at him as you sit down.

A scoff leaves his lips and you're forced to face him. A low chuckle hums from his chest. "Does that scare you?" He asks; he is clearly mocking your expressed fear from the conversation earlier.

Thinking back to the chilling articles and your friend's safety has aroused your paranoia again. You have to admit that alcohol has made you a bit over the top in your feelings. Small worries have now become legitimate fears.

"N-No," you stutter.

"I've never seen you here before," he says lowly.

Your eyes can't help but scan his face. He has a beautiful structured jaw, and every slight movement made with his eyebrows and mouth seem hard and striking, yet he still somehow manages to give a soft and charming aura. His almond eyes are dark and rounded, staring at you mercilessly. It's intimidating, and you swallow hard at how attentive he is towards you. He looks fake; an illusion of perfection.

"...you remember everyone?"

He exhales. "I'd remember you."

The comment strikes a part of you that had been dormant until now; his voice is so smooth and captivating much like his overall presence. Heat spreads to your fingertips and chills send down your spine. The sensation is enough to make you nervously bite on your lip. A breathy laugh escapes you to mask your easy reaction.

"It's my first time seeing Silver Tooth," you say shyly. "I-I'm friends with Hoseok... the new guitarist."

"Just friends?"

You clear your throat at the unwelcoming thoughts now evading your subconscious. The bartender finally decides to pay mind to you, and you're thankful for the distraction as you order a glass of water. You need it. You're starting to feel hot from this sensual, timid conversation that is brewing with this stranger.

He must sense your apprehensiveness, cutting the tension by introducing himself. "I'm Jungkook. I'm just the sound guy."

A smile spreads to your lips at his referral to Jin's introduction.

"___," you tell him. "Just the friend."

"Not a fan?" he questions.

"To be honest, I was actually scared to come tonight," you admit. "I've read so many things about Slash... and it really influenced my opinion."

Jungkook's expression is masked. He doesn't allow his facial features to give away what he's thinking. "But?"

"The music was great," you nod. The cold water feels like a breath of fresh air as it hits your tongue compared to the stuffiness of the atmosphere in the bar. You've probably inhaled enough grime and soot to kill you.

"And what about Slash?"

His question fades into the background of your attention as he leans slightly into you. His broad shoulders are enough to relish at as it is, but now he is showing physical interest when he leans his arm on the bar. Your thighs tighten in an involuntary attempt to convince yourself you're not into him.

You blink. "Hm?"

"Slash," he repeats. The drummer's stage name leaves his lips like a word that shouldn't be spoken. "Still scared of him?"

His question slices at your nerves. Jungkook's eyebrow is cocked at you, and you can tell he is finding slight amusement from teasing you about their masked drummer. Thoughts about the mysterious man have gotten you intrigued again. The same intimidated rush of feeling you experienced when he jumped down into the crowd has returned and your pulse is evidence of that.

"Yes," you breathe.

"But you liked it, hm?"

"I-I was very impressed," you reveal. "The way he plays... I couldn't stop staring. I respect that he works so hard against... adversity."

Jungkook himself looks impressed by your answer. He is frozen for a moment before his hand is on your thigh; his eyes are attentive to your reaction. You lick your lips and shy away from his gaze for a moment to stop yourself from audibly responding to his touch, clenching your thighs from the unwanted sensation that has sparked in-between them. Your skirt seems like a weak defense at the moment, but you aren't sure if you want to be defensive.

His words are breathy and you're falling deeper as he continues to speak. "You'd come back just to see him?"

His fingertips are cold against your heated skin. They move only slightly when you shift in the seat, and you can't stop your breath from hitching at how immensely turned on this guy is making you. You've never felt so swayed by a stranger before— you wanted him. He has something about him that is too hard to resist.

"Yes," you reluctantly agree. "Only when I'm not thinking about being tied up and abducted."

Your attempt at a light joke causes Jungkook's touch at your thigh to become a bit more rough. You shouldn't feel excitement, but you do. He is so tempting.

"That's a shame," he whispers. You find yourself leaning in more to hear him, "tying you up is something I'd very much want to do."

Your mouth falls agape at the words. Suddenly it feels as though his touch his everywhere, and every inch of your body has now ignited in a cold sweat and plethora of ecstasy. His hand at the bar has now clasped the one you had on the counter. His touch is so delicate, a slow burn of sensation that starts at your fingertips and ends with your dampening underwear. You're biting your lip to control yourself.

"You're fearful, but I know you'd want to," he whispers. You're frozen at the close proximity of his face. He smells of fresh cologne. It's almost like he has just showered.

"You do this every week to a new girl?"

A smile pulls at the corner of his lips after your question. Your eyes narrow to peer down at them; they look so plump and soft. You're tempted just to lean in, given he would probably want that, but you don't. You don't want to let go of this anxious feeling— the anticipation for what could happen.

"No," Jungkook replies. For some reason you believe him. "Only ones that follow me around and then accuse me of staring."

His words are filled with slight amusement, but the way he is staring at you gives you an intense feeling. He is very good at making you feel noticed; even the way his stare dances back and forth between your lips and eyes as you speak gives you butterflies in your stomach.

"I was curious," you tell him.

"You're curious about a lot of things," he notes. "Curious about me... curious about Silver Tooth... curious about... Slash. Yet, you still showed up."

"Your point?" you raise your eyebrows at the insinuator.

"You're not scared," he concludes. "Scared people don't involve themselves."

"You're right," you play along with him.

You have a feeling that this will all just end in some smooth pick-up line. Your smirk grows and you place your hand over his on your thigh. He seems surprised but controls his reaction. With a gentle sigh and a knowing look at him, you press your lips to his ear.

"Maybe I do want to get tied up," you tighten your hold around his hand as you speak, bringing it higher and against your inner thigh. He doesn't waste a moment to expand his palm and grip your skin in his hold roughly. The material of your skirt hitches upwards.

"Be careful what you wish for," he warns.

His tone of voice seems much too serious for your playful one, but the goosebumps on your skin aren't prejudice. He is affecting you with every sensation.

Your thighs close around his hand and he shifts in his stool to place his knee between them, prohibiting you from closing your legs. Your eyes awkwardly look back to the group of people you left, only to realize that no one is paying attention to you. You are alone with this new man, fooling around at the bar. You don't typically do this with people you just meet, but Jungkook is an exception. He is doing all the right things.

"I'll do it here, I don't give a fuck," he grumbles against your skin. His hand slides further up towards your heated core and you gasp when you feel his fingers against your underwear.

Your eyes go wide and you push at his chest lightly to stop him. His hand freezes in place and you fight the urge to squirm. If you move, you will only excite yourself more. You didn't think your teasing would lead to him wanting to do it right here.

"No?" he frowns.

"No," you breathe. "Not here. I'm not like that."

He chuckles. "Not like what?"

"Easy."

Jungkook shakes his head at you. His small breath fans your face as he replies, "I'm finding it hard to get you to play along with me, baby."

The endearing title falls from his lips and your throat dries. You shouldn't be falling into his spell so easily, but it's impossible to fight it. By the looks of the way his eyes can't leave you, it appears that both of you have entered a trance that is impenetrable.

"You want me to play along?"

"Ah," he realizes. "You want me to beg? I will. I've wanted to sink my fingers into your aching pussy since the moment you looked at me."

You're searching for air, but you can't find any. Your cheeks heat at his vulgar language and your body reacts before your mind can, hips moving forward against his hand. Jungkook releases a sharp breath of pleasure when he realizes what you're doing. Your chests are touching as he uses his body to shield others in the room from seeing what his hand is doing to you.

His strong grip pulls your stool closer to him. Your mouth falls open, and you bite on your finger to stop a moan after feeling him press against your throbbing clit. Jungkook's fingers slide into your underwear seamlessly, exposing your wetness to his every touch and command. You find yourself leaning into him.

"You like to be told what to do," he coos into your ear. "You're fucking soaked. Is it because I scare you?"

"N-No," you moan.

The loud music is swallowing your sounds. Your hips can't help but want to rock against him, but Jungkook's free hand is forceful and rough, not budging to hold you against the stool. The restriction only makes you want to moan louder.

"You shouldn't ever be scared of me. I can't resist touching you," he murmurs. "I want this pussy to be mine."

"It's yours," you breathe heavily.

Your mouth falls agape and you bite down on his shoulder to stop yourself from being too overwhelmed with sensation. His thumb is moving at a wavering pace against your clit, rubbing circles and hitting every spot that makes your toes curl. You jolt forward into him when you feel a finger inside you.

"Yes," you moan, "keep going."

"Beautiful," he purrs at you, "You're so tight for me. Only for me, right?"

You squeeze the material of his shirt in your grasp when another finger enters you. His thumb continues to tease and roll against your clit. The naughtiness of the surrounding sounds of the people at the bar has enthralled your mind. The thrill of not knowing if someone will see you strangely makes you even more aroused. Jungkook is humming in satisfaction at your responses to his touch.

"Yes," you nod with a breathless response. His dirty words are so hot falling from his deep voice. "Fuck, Jungkook... only for you."

"Mhm," he grunts pompously. "You're such a filthy girl, letting me do this to you here."

"I-I don't... ever do this," you cry out.

You can hear his fingers as they push in and out of your wet folds. You bite your lip and bring him closer to you to stop yourself from being too loud. The cold metal at the bar has become ten times colder due to how heated your skin is becoming. Your mind is in a lull; it feels like hours have passed and yet time is going so slow; torturously slow, from the skillful use of his fingers.

"For me you did," his lips are at your ear, only this time he places a kiss there. He is growling into your ear, "My curious baby. Mine."

"All yours," you practically cry as the pressure becomes too much. You have no problem adhering to his possession kink as your core aches and pulses for his touch. Your lips are swollen and throbbing from how harshly you are biting down.

A heated sensation erupts through every nerve in your body. Jungkook's hold on you tightens as you come undone against his hand, whining out into his shoulder. His lips are on your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin harshly. You suck in a breath and dig your fingers into him. You can feel your heart against your chest as you come down from the high; the room is spinning momentarily.

You are lifeless against Jungkook's muscular body. Your palm can't help but slide against him; his arms and torso are rock hard and solid, obvious signs of fitness beneath all the dark clothing. When you finally look at his face, he is cutely flushed as well. His fingers retract from inside you and you whimper. The wet skin at your neck feels chilled as the air hits it, and the stinging sensation tells you there will most likely be a love bite there tomorrow.

Your chest is heaving and you lean against the bar counter. No one surrounding the two of you noticed what happened, but it doesn't change the slight embarrassment you feel. Nevertheless, the thrill of what happened has stained you— you are exhilarated.

"___!" Fia's voice slices through the air unforgivingly as your name leaves her mouth.

Jungkook distances himself from you thankfully. You're quick to compose yourself and fix your skirt, swiveling around in the stool and downing the last of your water.

"Ah," she squeals. "You'll... you'll never believe what I just did..."

"I think I can," you laugh at the irony.

"I just fucked Jimin three times in the bathroom. Three times."

You're stunned and don't know what to say. There is no way you are going to tell Fia what you just did. Part of you doesn't want to share the intimate moment— not because you feel embarrassed, but because for some reason it was kind of... nice? In the nicest way getting fingered at a bar by a stranger could ever be. Now you felt as though you were just making up excuses for yourself; you're drunk. He was as well. You fear that your hangover tomorrow will prove that this was a mistake.

"Wow," you smile for her excitement anyway. "How was it?"

"Let me tell you," she gapes with a dainty smile, "that tiny man is packing."

The two of you erupt in giggles at her description. Fia is swooning so hard that you think she might faint. It isn't until she glances at your location that she shows a worrisome expression.

"Have you been sitting here alone this whole time?"

"No, I'm with—"

You cut yourself off when you attempt to gesture to the stool next to you. Jungkook isn't there, and you can't believe how distracted you could've been to possibly not see him move. It's almost like when he escaped from the table earlier, except somehow then you caught him just in time. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes scan across the room. He isn't here.

Where the hell did he go?

"Hey, you guys ready?" Hoseok's voice drags your attention away from looking around. When you finally stand from the stool, your knees are weak. You gasp at yourself and stand stationary for a moment to compose your balance.

Both you and Fia manage to walk towards him. His guitar case is at his feet and the low mutterings of the men behind him are filling the air as the DJ has cut out. You check the time— it's 2 a.m. The bar is closing soon. Drunk muttering and girl's giggles are heard from the distance. Your eyes can't help but continuously look around. What the fuck?

"No, like..." a drunken Namjoon slurs at the table. "He could’ve totally murdered Yoongi."

"Bullshit," Jimin says dismissively. "He was at practice all night."

"Only takes a minute to stab someone," Jin shrugs as if intervening is none of his business.

"Convince me," Jimin prompts Namjoon and Jin. All of them are drunk off their asses and barely making sense.

"I don't know," Namjoon mutters. His words are forming together and his hand is wavering with an almost empty glass of beer in his hand. "Have you heard from him? 'Cuz I sure as hell haven't."

"He was tired of seeing your annoying ass," Jimin jokes.

Fia and you look at each other with alarmed expressions. Suddenly you feel the urge to cry. Namjoon's drunken thoughts could very well be the truth, and just thinking that a murder could've just been on stage entertaining you in a crowd has got you feeling absolutely sick to your stomach. You fear for Hoseok's life; Slash sounds sketchy and untrustworthy. He isn't someone you want Hoseok hanging out with.

"Guys, chill," Hoseok mediates.

"Just speaking my mind," Namjoon puts his hands up defensively.

"Why do you guys stay in the band then?" You demand an answer. Tolerating a killer has never been high on your list of things to allow.

Jimin and Namjoon are too drunk to recognize your anger. Their smiles grow and they look at each other before chuckling loudly; Jimin's hand starts patting at Namjoon's chest and he shows off a cocky grin.

"We're gunna be famous, baby," he gloats.

You scoff.

"___, they're drunk," Fia places her hand on your arm. She is mumbling out her words weakly. Drunk environments aren't the best place to confront issues.

Hoseok awkwardly grabs his guitar case before you can cause an altercation. It could be possible that you are projecting your frustrations from Jungkook's disappearance onto the words of a bunch of drunk men. You have been insinuating Slash's criminal behavior all night, and their drunk conversation could very well be stemmed off of that.

"This is fucked up and scary," you tell Hoseok as the three of you are leaving the bar.

"They were just trying to entertain themselves," Fia assures you, but it isn't assuring. She doesn't know anything. She is too into the band to think anything could be wrong.

"You guys are giving me a fucking headache," Hoseok whines at the two of you.

"I'm worried for you," you frown.

"Don't be," Hoseok sighs. "This band is my break. Finally."

You have no choice but to nod.

The moment your ass sinks into the taxi, you can't help but groan in release. Your head feels heavy and the night feels as though it was longer than just a mere five hours. Alcohol has its way of creeping up on you— but could it have been the culprit for creating a fake man at a bar who pleasured you?

No way, you convince yourself. That was definitely real. What the hell is his problem? You can't believe that you just did that with a complete stranger. He ghosted you within an hour of interacting.

Your sulking stare out the window is interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. The bright light of your screen is hard to focus on, but when you finally do, your heart skips a beat.