#kimlinenet

As you continue your walk, you reminisce about all the things you went through to regain a healthy sleep schedule. You started with yoga on a regular day in the week, which quickly turned out to be too much effort in your packed schedule, since you already had to work two jobs.

You also tried therapy, which helped a lot, but eventually the costs piled up too much. Medicine was your last resort and got you to the point of actually sleeping through most nights, but of course you had to run out the week of your well earned holiday. 

Working two jobs was exhausting and you rarely had the opportunity to take multiple consecutive days off. So, you were planning on enjoying these days as much as possible — the lack of sleep, once again, disrupting that plan.

This is just your first night in Paris, the city of lights, love, and art. You had a tightly scheduled day right after your arrival at the airport, wanting to spend every day in its own way. 

So today you went sightseeing, visiting the most common things, like the Eiffel Tower. Tomorrow you planned on visiting one or two museums that a friend had recommended.

For the third day you didn’t really plan anything, expecting yourself to be far too lazy after two days of walking to do anything, so perhaps you’ll just lay down in bed and read a book. 

Had you known that you wouldn’t be able to sleep you would have of course brought more books with you on this trip.

The fourth day is actually a little secret of yours, you didn’t tell anybody about your plans — the risk of coworkers snitching on you was just too high. All of them were lovely indeed, but they do love to spread the newest gossip. 

The truth was, you were not only on this holiday to relax and visit a beautiful city, but also for a job interview. A well paying job in this beautiful city was a dream come true. 

You didn’t care to plan more than the fourth day, if the interview goes well you will truly just be savoring the last three days in this city before leaving and soon returning permanently. If the interview didn't go the way you wanted it to, you decided to just get an earlier flight, not wanting to be depressed in a place like Paris. It would be a waste of money and days you could spend earning more of it anyway.

You were wary of actually pursuing this job, teaching was far from what you did until now. Your past work experiences were all corporate jobs or part time jobs at restaurants, bars, and the likes. Seemingly not being able to stop your brain from rattling, you thought: what if someone better applies and they decide against you?

You’d be starting on step one again, having to apply at a multitude of different Art Universities to get the chance of an interview. 

All of a sudden you crash into somebody. A tall man is staring down at you in shock, big eyes and his mouth open. Your expression is probably mirroring his, the collision pulled you out of your thoughts.

»I’m so sorry!« you exclaim, rushing to look around for objects he might’ve dropped when you ran into the broad man. 

»It’s fine, guess both of us just weren't paying attention,« the man says and gives you a big grin. His cheeks lift up, giving him a cute and less intimidating look than just a few seconds ago.

You give him a once over. He’s handsome, his posture radiated confidence and his eyes were very sharp but now that he is smiling they had a nicer touch to them. You notice the uneven eyelids and a mole on the underside of his nose tip. You guess it isn't very visible for other people, but from your angle, being much shorter than the tall man, you see it clearly. His hands are hidden in the pockets of his long coat and his hair is partly covered by a barret. With the lack of light, you can only guess that it’s of a darker color. 

»Are you done checking me out?« His very dark voice, you note that you’ve probably never heard such a deep tone, managed to pull your attention to his face again. You didn’t notice that you’d been staring. The realization made you blush. It’s dark, so of course he won’t see it in the dimly lit streets, but you could feel yourself heat up.

You force out a nervous chuckle. On any other day you would walk away after you made sure to apologize and check for dropped items, but you couldn’t seem to continue your nightly walk this time around. »What are you doing out so late, anyway?« He asks, still smiling, looking into your eyes and waiting for your answer. 

»Uh, I was just… on a walk?« Great, talking casually to a stranger wouldn’t be on the list of your strengths, noted. But he laughs and to your surprise you’re not embarrassed by this, more amused and delighted. His laugh is very pretty, just like the man himself.

»Ah, I see. Well, I’ll let you continue your walk then, let’s pay attention to our paths from now on!« He gives you another smile before he raises his hand out of his pocket, notably very big, to wave a little and turn around. You stay there for a moment and watch him slowly walk away.

»He was nice,« you whisper into the cold air, smiling to yourself. The unexpected encounter made your mind less stressed, somehow. The stranger had a calming way about him. With newfound peace of mind, you decide to go back to your hotel room and try to get some sleep.

Your second day in Paris was lovely indeed. The art hung on the walls of museums was impressive and lovely to look at. Drawing had been a small passion of yours for long, but working every chance you get kept you from it for far too long. The sights were truly inspiring and so you decided to make your way to an art supply store to purchase a sketchbook and a few brushes. You could ponder about what you’d draw in a nearby park, perhaps? Nature in Paris was as beautiful as it gets.

With this plan in mind you made your way there, your phone navigation leading your way with your earphones in, trying not to seem as much of a tourist, but you probably do anyway.

Near the store, you stopped the route on your phone and put the device away in your pocket. When you open the door a bell above rings and echoes sweetly into the room to make notice of your entrance. Wooden shelves stocked with many art supplies fill the space. You could take your pick from any medium you’d like to paint with. Oil, water color, pencil,... You take it all in, think about what's best to buy and especially, what suited your bank accounts limits. Wandering along the shelves in deep concentration, you bumped into a hard chest. Just like last night, you come to face the same man. He still wore his smile and his eyes carried the same kind look.

»I see we were destined to meet again,« he said, his smile growing cheeky. »I was actually hoping to see you a second time. Do you often crash into people when daydreaming?« The man chuckles and holds his hand in front of his body, »official introductions are in order, I suppose. My name is Kim Taehyung.«

You returned his smile, although a bit more nervous as he seemed to be. »Were you really hoping to see me again or are you just trying to charm me?«

Your response made him laugh a little, but before he could say another thing, you told him your name. »Seeing you here must mean you’re into art?« You ask.

He nods his head yes. Delighted to hear this, you immediately start a conversation about art. Without hesitation, you ask him about his favorite medium, his style of painting and at last, his inspiration. At the last question he seems to lose his smile. Before, he joyously responded to all of your inquiries, but this one perhaps was too personal of a question. »You don’t need to share, if you’re uncomfortable,« you assure him.

»It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. It’s just that, as of right now, I’ve lost all inspiration,« he admits. »I was going to switch paints in an attempt to regain a bit of my passion.« Relating to this, you nod. Losing inspiration to do what you love — it is tough. No wonder his smile dropped at the mention of it.

You fear that your mishap might have ruined the conversation, but he bounces right back and returns all your questions, helps you choose the best products in your price range and wears his smile just like before. As a way of thanking him you invite him for coffee, but because of his plans he has to refuse. »Another time. I’m sure we’ll meet again.«

Before you could dare to tell him that you are in fact not a local like he is, he is already on his way and without exchanging phone numbers, impossible to reach. The prospect of not seeing him again before you leave Paris crosses your mind and sullies your mood. You suppose you’d just have to deal with it.

You go on to spend the rest of today and the third day of your stay painting the view from your hotel room window, a park and a bridge to distract yourself and get your mood back up. On wednesday evening you expected to have trouble sleeping before your interview the next day. But, to your surprise, your eyes feel heavy and sleep comes over you.

When you wake up, you get dressed and grab two of the paintings from yesterday, your previously prepared binder full of your older art and make your way to the interview. It was held directly where you’d work at — an art school. The thought of pursuing your life-long passion as a career is scary but imagining that this interview could be a success fills your heart with joy. Becoming an art teacher for students who live and breathe art just as you do seems like your purpose. For this reason, you want to try your best and hope to leave a great impression. 

As you stand in front of the university's art-department building you keep positive thoughts in mind. Every step that you take in the direction of the stairs, along the hallway and near the room you're supposed to enter, shakes you up with anxiety. Nerves are running rampant more than ever as you hold the door handle and push it down. A deep breathe in, and you step forward into the room.

The broad room is bright, the white and high walls complement the wooden floors. Beautiful art decorates the walls and windows. You suppose on other days this is where students work on their assignments. But today, there are no art supplies laying around, everything is cleaned up nice. When you look to your left, there’s a long table. Three people sit at the table, two of them are conversing quietly, the third is scribbling something onto a paper in front of him.

The woman on the far left looks to the door first and her face splits into a smile. »Hello! Do come in, please.« You nod and smile, close the door behind you and step closer to the table. The woman who called you in pointed towards folded chairs that are leaned on the wall. »Grab a chair! Apologies, we just came back from our break, so we didn’t get to prepare the room.« You assure her that it’s fine, grab a chair and introduce yourself before sitting down.

»Very nice to meet you. I’m Madame Dupont, next to me is Monsieur Batiste and at last, Monsieur Kim. Monsieur Batiste and I are both teachers here. While Monsieur Kim does give lectures, his profession is fully dedicated to the arts. You might recognize him by his Pseudonym, Vantae.« She introduces from the left, starting with herself and going to the right, leaving the man who hadn’t raised his eyes up until now for last. The mention of Vantae makes you almost jump, you were always very fond of his work. The opportunity to meet one of your favorite artists in person makes this interview so much better. You keep your eyes on him, waiting to see his face and as you meet his gaze, you are surprised to recognize the man.

Vantae or Monsieur Kim, as in Kim Taehyung, the man who you’ve spent a great deal of this Tuesday with, talking about art. How come it never crossed his mind to mention that he was in fact an actual artist, with great talent? The shock hits your gut deeply but you can’t let it show on your face or hinder you from making a good impression on the other interviewers.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath in. Madame Dupont, seemingly leading the interview, holds her hand out and asks for your documents and the binder with your art. While she and the others look through your portfolio and comment on aspects that they like, you begin talking about yourself, per their request. You tell them of your great love for painting and how you’ve always felt at ease with a pencil or brush in hand. One or two questions to your drawings are asked that you gladly elaborate on and after exactly forty-two minutes Madame Dupont, Monsieur Batiste and Taehyung stand up to each shake your hand. 

»It was great speaking with you today. We will definitely contact you in a few days and notify you of our decision. Your art is very promising and you would be a great addition to our team!« Monsieur Batiste beams when he speaks and holds your hand in both of his. The two others at both his sides nod in agreement.

Taehyung’s smile grows cheeky when you hold your hand above the table to reach for his. »Pleasure to meet you here today, Madame. I, as well, would more than appreciate your presence at this school,« he brazenly speaks. His words are laced with mischief, as are his eyes sparkling with.

You express your gratitude to receive the chance for this interview and emphasize that you’d love to take this job offer. A very positive feeling is settling within your chest as you leave the building and walk along the street. They were genuinely nice and made the interview a good experience. But the encounter with Kim Taehyung still sticks with you. He seemed to already expect you there, almost like he recognized you from the picture on your application to the school. It would explain why he was so sure to meet you again.

The call from Madame Dupont came exactly four days after you were back at home. The moment that your phone rings with a caller-ID you don’t recognize you pick up, already anticipating who it might be. »We’re so happy to tell you that you have been accepted as our next art teacher at the Pariser University of Arts!« She says, with almost as much excitement as you feel hearing it. »We want you to start as soon as you can move to Paris. Our team has been developing a schedule for you to adjust to teaching the students and we can’t wait for you to join us.«

After the call, you waste no time to write your resignation for your jobs and to prepare everything that needs to be done and taken care of before you leave the country — permanently.

After living in Paris for four months now, you can’t imagine leaving ever again. Work has been everything you hoped it would be and more. At the beginning you just followed Madame Dupont, Taehyung and Monsieur Batiste to their classes, attended to printing and copying documents and got to do the occasional stand-in class. Today, you’re still in training but get to work on your own most of the time. Your coworkers help you prepare for your classes and give you tips on how to improve student-involvement. You enjoy working, for probably the first time in your life. With time you’re starting to get along better with your coworkers — not only the trio that interviewed you, but also the whole rest of the teaching staff. But with Taehyung especially. 

The first week you arrived, he kept on teasing you about how shocked you were when you found out that he is Vantae. He also admitted to recognizing you from your application, when the two of you met in the art shop. »I didn’t notice when we bumped into each other at night, but the day after it clicked. I’m a very curious person, you intrigued me… I just had to get to know you,« he confessed back then. 

That day, he also showed you his in-school art studio. It is still a gorgeous sight, you’re in awe whenever you get to enter it. He only works there when he has lectures that day, so it’s not the full extent of what he’s tinkering with. Still, you can recognize Vantae in everything he creates. Even quick, messy sketches. But like he said in the art shop, inspiration has left him with blank canvases or unfinished projects and the frustration is always clearly visible in his face when he invites you to the studio. 

Last time you were there, he invited you to come see his studio at home. The thought of seeing the place where Vantae painted some of his greatest works intrigued you so much, you agreed despite being antsy about spending your time off with him.

This leads you to where you are now, standing in front of his door. You take a few seconds to actually ring the bell but once you do, it doesn’t take long for it to swing open and reveal Taehyung and his usual smile. He swings his arm into the room to ask you to enter and that you do. To the right of the entrance area is a flight of stairs, but Taehyung walks through the door frame in front of you, so you follow him.

»I was just about to make coffee before heading up to the studio.« He said. »Do you want a cup as well?« You accept the offer and look around his place. The living room in which you are standing was huge and flooded with light from the big windows. A bar separated the area from his kitchen, where he leans against the counter. Behind him, his coffee machine is buzzing away as it’s filling the cups he put underneath. Once they are full, he hands you one of them. Both of you add milk and sugar to your preferences and then Taehyung starts making his way back through the doorway and turns to the staircase. »Let’s go!« he cheers on his way up.

He talks a lot about the different Paintings on his walls, the ones he hasn’t finished yet and the ones he wants to start. He begins sketching at his desk and you sit next to him to watch. Over the last few weeks he asked you more and more often to just do that — he never explains why. By now it’s become routine though, so you don’t question it anymore.

Every once in a while Taehyung pauses and crosses out what he drew or he erases the pencil lines and starts fresh. You can tell that the longer he keeps at it, the more his patience runs out. With time, he stops trying to fix or cover up his mistakes, but instead ends up crumbling his paper sheet together and throwing the whole thing away.

He finally closes his artbook and looks over at you with tired eyes, pouting. You can’t resist the coo that leaves your mouth. 

»I can‘t seem to draw anything at all, lately. It frustrates me,« the earnest way he speaks about his thoughts and feelings makes you a little happy, you’re glad that he’s comfortable enough to confide in you like this.

»Maybe you need a new muse?« you suggest and absentmindedly bite your lip as you try to think of a solution to his problem. There needs to be something that could inspire him. You don’t notice him inching closer to you, not until his breath tickles your cheek. Taehyung isn’t pouting anymore. Rather than that, his face is full of mischief, like it was months ago after your interview.

»Can you sit still?« he hurriedly opens the artbook again, grabs a piece of drawing coal and gets to work. Your eyes widen with the realization of what he was doing when his eyes flicker up to your face and back down to the paper. Not wanting to interrupt the flow he seems to be in, you just sit still and wait for when he is done. When he is, he turns his artbook to you and shows off his work with a proud grin on his lips. It was beautiful, to say the least. 

»Would you mind spending a little more time in my studio? I would love to try this with oil colors,« he carefully asks. It’s late and a part of your brain tells you to not stay with a man that you’re slowly overstepping your work relationship with, but you know that you probably can’t sleep well tonight anyway, so you agree to stay with him, despite your better knowledge.

»I wouldn’t mind,« you say to his visible surprise. »I enjoy your company and your art. If I can help you regain your inspiration, I’m more than glad to do that.« 

To Taehyung, you carry the calmness of the ocean and he could really drown in your presence. Just looking at you puffing up your hair nearly makes him drool. Being alone with you for so long is going to make him crazy, he just knows.But you could really be the solution for the artist block that he has been struggling with for the past few months. What you said earlier made him realize that you already were his muse. Everytime you’re next to him when he draws, he feels himself regaining his inspiration little by little. Maybe all that was left for him to truly get out of his slump wasn’t to switch the medium but to find the right view to draw. 

After you find your position again, he starts a draft of the painting he had in mind. You are of course the main focus of it, but the hard part is to find out what background will do your beauty justice.

Late into the night, Taehyung finally finishes the painting. All the coffee in the world couldn’t keep the two of you up any longer. You grab your things and follow him back downstairs, but before you could announce your departure, he takes your hand. »You shouldn’t walk home alone this late. Please, stay here.« He almost whispers this and pulls you towards his chest gently. You think about it for a moment, staying at his place would really cross the line of professionalism. Finally, the thought of sharing a comfortable bed with a warm blooded, handsome man like Taehyung won you over. You sigh and nod your head.

»Let’s go to bed, then.« You both smile at each other.

He gives you a toothbrush and together you stand in front of the sink and exchange the occasional glance. His hands touch your arms, your waist and hips. Always gentle and they never linger for too long — it’s comfortable. The question of who takes the couch is never asked and on an unspoken mutual agreement you both slip under the same blanket, his arm behind your head and your back against his chest.

The darkness in the bedroom envelops you. You only feel Taehyung’s chest rise and fall while you fall asleep quicker than you ever did before.

To be woken up in the morning by Taehyung’s now even deeper voice wasn’t on your list of possible outcomes when you moved to Paris. Nonetheless you really enjoy it. The shirt he gave you last night to sleep in covers you enough to stay decent and in his opinion makes you look even cuter than you did before. Bedhead and all.

He serves two cups of coffee and egg on toast after you beg him to cook you some breakfast.

»Seeing you like this…,« he mutters. »I’m afraid I can’t let you leave, you’re way too pretty. Can’t have anyone steal my muse from me.« You laugh together with him and hide your face in your palms. His attention stays on you the whole time. He can’t help himself — he rounds the bar to where you’re seated and lays his hand on the side of your face. »I adore you,« this, he said in a very serious tone, unlike before. »Please let me take you out to dinner sometime.« You look up from your hands and see the earnesty in his eyes.

Taking in another sharp breath you finally manage to tighten your corset just enough to deliciously display the ample cleavage you’ve been blessed with. One final touch and you were ready to go, but not before sliding the little silver bullet into your core.

“______, you ready, baby? We’re all ready to go to this party.” Namjoon calls out to you from the living room.

“Hey, Tae...what exactly are you supposed to be?”, asks Jungkook with an amused expression.

“Can’t you tell by the shiny sparkles all over my body?” Yoongi and Jin both side eye each other, not wanting to say something to offend him. “Please tell us, Tae…”

“I’m Edward Cullen from Twilight.” All of the members groan in unison just as you walk in. Namjoon chuckles adding, “If that’s what you want to call it.” 

“What? Do I look that bad?” You knew they weren’t referring to you as they weren’t even looking in your direction, but when they do, all of their jaws drop.

“Babygirl, where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” Hobi’s eyes just about fly out of his head with a look of jealousy adorning his face. “It’s just a costume, Hobi.  Besides, I’ll be with my seven favorite men.”

Tae chuckles and Jungkook comes over to give you a high five.  “That’s right, princess.  And, you’ d better remember who you belong to.” With a satisfied smile, Jungkook grabs a handful of your ass to make his point clear.

“You guys act like other women don’t dress up in vampire seductress corsets.”

Jin bites his lips, trying to control what he wants to say in order to give you your right to dress as you so please, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be standing a little bit closer to you tonight. Jimin had not said a word since you walked in, watching you carefully, your ass swinging to and fro.  He had to adjust himself in his pants,feeling a little too confined. Somehow you had convinced him to be the vampire lover paired with your costume, and he agreed, but only on one condition. He would make sure to give you special attention tonight, knowing full well what you carried inside of you.

Jin decided to be a farmer, Yoongi a fisherman, Hobi a frankenstein, Namjoon a detective, Taehyung ...whatever he was, and Jungkook a police officer.  Each one of them fit their costumes well, asses and chests visible for your hungry eyes.  Their bodies were beyond sexy, and even a silly costume didn’t change that.

As you pass by Jimin, he stops you short, putting his hand out in expectation.  The deal was he’d be a vampire to match you, but he had to have control of you for the night.  You were more than happy to oblige. Handing him the control, he breathes out his nose, squeezing your arm a bit tighter.  You look his way already knowing what he will say. “Good girl.” As you walk away, you dare to roll your eyes, but Jimin doesn’t miss it. Barely a few steps away, he grabs you by the arm, walking you quickly towards the bedrooms. The other guys are still busy taking shots before going to the actual party, so they miss the way you shoot them all a desperate plea for help. 

Jimin manages to walk you into his bedroom, quickly closing the door.  He turns towards you, as you stand by the bed with eyes large and afraid. “What did I tell you about rolling your eyes, baby?”

You look down immediately knowing the stance Jimin requires of you in this situation.  This could have been avoided, but secretly you wanted it to happen. The bullet inside of you had been a heavy weight, teasing your inner walls for almost an hour. “I’m sorry, daddy. It won’t happen again.”

As you speak Jimin’s eyes soften, his love taking over his superficial anger. “Bad girls get punished, baby.  You do know that, right?”

“Yes, daddy, I do.”

“On the bed, ass up.”

“But we’ll be late for the….”

“Eh, I don’t give a fuck about a party. All I want is right here.”

Doing as he says, you make yourself comfortable.  Just as you bend forward to place your head on the pillow before you, a strong vibration causes you to jolt. Your ass in the air shakes with your reaction, and Jimin can’t help but to chuckle. “Not so tough now, are we?”

You feel the bed dip down when he comes up behind you.  You can feel his presence, but he doesn’t touch you.  Before you speak to question him, his hand comes to the top of your back, drawing a straight line with the tip of his pointer finger, from the base of your skull  all the way down to your tailbone. 

“My angel is such a good girl. Isn’t she?”  When you go to answer, he once again presses the button and the device inside of your core shakes. “YES!”

 He leaves it on now as his fingers make quick work to untie the strings of the corset that are keeping your body away from his touch.  When he is able to loosen it, he goes for your underwear, realizing that you had not put any on underneath the bustier that barely covered your body. He opens the buttons at the bottom of your suit revealing your arousal sticking to the flaps that barely covered your cunt.

 “Shit, angel. You’re so fucking dirty. Look at all that.  I’ve barely touched you.” A single finger from his hand slides up your folds, teasing your entrance along the way. You shiver, wanting him to penetrate you, to wreck your insides, but he doesn’t.  You angle your back better, attempting to tease him into fulfilling your wish, but a sharp slap steals the moment away.

“Ugh, fuck...daddy….”

“I told you to be a good girl and here you are trying to tease me instead of preparing for your punishment.  I think I need to bring in  the guys in to help me out. You’re too fucking disrespectful.”

You gasp then, turning your head to face him from an awkward angle on the bed.  He  has a smirk on his face as he types away a message on his phone.   Not able to do or say a thing, you prepare yourself mentally.  He suddenly turns off the bullet leaving you wanting and a complete mess.

You had not been ready for them all, at least not until later.  Apparently no one was going to this Halloween party now. 

“Face down!  You’re already in enough trouble.” Jimin comes back to you, moving up closer in order to remove the rest of the bustier.  The only thing remaining on your body were your black heels and black garter belt with black thigh highs. Your make-up was applied flawlessly, but that would soon go to shit.  Hearing the door fly open you immediately tense, excitement filling your body. “Fuck, our baby is laid out and ready. All open for us to see.” Upon hearing Namjoon’s voice, your legs open wider, body too aroused to realize it’s reaction. “Yes, she looks more than ready. That pussy is dripping.  I wanna taste, hyung.” The maknae may be cute and cuddly most days, but right now his tone is raspy and dangerous.  “Go for it.”  As soon as Jungkook’s tongue hits your cunt, Jimin turns on the vibrator once again. A loud cry fills the room and your body convulses.  Jungkook doesn’t even relent, not caring whether or not you were already at the breaking point.  His hands firmly grasp your ass as he dips in deeper, nose teasing at your opening.  He licks and sucks your clit into his mouth, body bent forward in between your legs.

With the remote in hand, Jimin cranks up the intensity causing you to fall flat on your belly.  Jungkook’s mouth is pulled from your folds making him very unhappy.

“_____, you didn’t let me make you cum.” Standing back he wipes your juices from his face, a pout quickly forming.

While you lie in the bed, still bearing the vibrations of the bullet, your body is about to shatter.  You were so close to cumming, but each time it was stolen from you. “Why don’t you give that to me, Jimin.”  Jin steps up taking away the remote, turning off the torture. “Thank you!” You all but whine out, eyes full of tears. 

Jin walks up to the bed, turning you to your back.  Your body is hot, flushed and ready...nipples tender..begging. “Angel, if you can’t handle a silly vibrator, how are you going to handle us?” 

He leans forward, wiping the sweat from your brow..watching you carefully. “So sweet for us...right, baby?  What’s our word, love?”

“Cinnamon.”

“That’s right, angel.  Now you lie still while the maknae finishes his job.”

You nod, looking up towards the ceiling, knowing you were about to cum hard. Jungkook had a talented mouth, and each time he ate you out, your body took a while to recover.  

He went back to work once Jin stepped away. “Open up nice and wide for me, baby.” Taking your legs in his hands, he pushes them apart, and dips down to devour your pussy.  Jin turns on the vibrations to its highest setting and you scramble to grab your hair, screaming out Jungkook’s name as he takes your pussy like a man starved.  His tongue flicks and winds in all the right spots, and just when you think you can’t take anymore, he stops.  Your eyes spring open, frustrated and confused as to why he’s moved away. 

“Shh, it’s okay. I just think you’d cum better with Tae’s dick inside of you.”

A tug at your core lets you know he’s removing the small bullet from your cunt.  It’s dripping with your essence. You rise up to your elbows trying to gather what he’s saying, but need no more explanation once Tae slips up and in between your thighs.  He leans down over your body, pressing himself deliciously against your sensitive center. It relieves you in a way, his weight against your body.

His face inches from yours, he rubs his nose against your chin, eyes full of seduction. 

“Do you want my cock, angel?”  The words sound sweet coming from his mouth making you weaker for him.  Not waiting for you to answer him, he kisses you slowly, lips tender yet firm.  His tongue plays with your bottom lip, prying your lips apart to allow him entrance. When he finds your tongue, you moan into his mouth. 

You can feel him fiddling with his clothes near your heat, and you don’t know what he’s up to until you feel it.  Pushing his entire length into you, he swallows your cry, as inch by slow inch he fills you up. “Shit...ahh.._____, you’re always so tight...so good.”

He rolls his hips once and your body undulates beneath him, accommodating your hips to allow him complete sheathing.

The delicious grinding of his hips is too much, bringing you closer and closer to your high.

“Hands up baby, don’t move them.”

“Okay, Tae.”  He kisses you sweetly once you obey, moving his body back and away from yours, penis still deeply settled within. That’s when Jungkook and Yoongi make their way to your left side.  Yoongi comes closer to your face, dipping down to take a nipple into his mouth.  Jungkook wraps his lips around your clitourous, smiling victoriously against your skin when he feels your reaction. On your right side Namjoon and Jin settle down, Jin on your other breast and Namjoon on your stomach.  Each one of them is suckling and tugging at your flesh, leaving marks and bruises along the way. Your breasts are marked up, nipples tugged to perfect peaks.  Hobi finally makes it to where your head lies.  You don’t even take him in due to the overwhelming stimulation taking place all over your body. Tae is slowly pumping in and out of you while Jungkook languidly licks and plays with your button. They’re in no hurry to let you cum.  When you finally register Hobi, you see he’s got his dick in his hands, waiting patiently for you to take him in your mouth.

“You ready, princess?”

“Oh, fuck...yes!” 

You can’t take it anymore, wanting to be complete full of your men.

Once his dick is settled in your mouth, Tae begins to fuck you hard.  Jungkook follows suit...making sure to meet his strokes perfectly.  Your back is arched off the bed, hands grabbing Hobi’s thighs, keeping him deep in your throat. You can feel your breaking point building up quickly...hanging on by a thread. When you finally break, letting the damn flood throughout your body, Taehyung and Jungkook take you through it. Falling flat onto the bed, the men beside you ask you one more question. “May we use your body, angel?”

A ragged yes spills from your lips and soon all of their cum covers your entire body.  They stroke their cocks fully making sure to milk each and every drop over your stomach, face, cunt, and neck.

“So fucking beautiful.” Jungkook comes up to kiss you, cum being added to the kiss, but he doesn’t care. “We love you, angel. Thank you.”

“Well I guess we’re staying home.” Yoongi barely manages to say what the others are thinking.

“I guess so.”, says Jin smirking when he sees how absolutely devastated and fucked out you look. “Our baby needs our attention.  Get the bath ready.”

Everyone scrambles to get you ready and cleaned up, all but Jimin, who slinks up next to you for one last cuddle. “Thank you for giving yourself to us. You know we love you so much, right?”

“I know, Jimin. Remind me next time not to roll my eyes at you.”

He chuckles. “Aww, but then we wouldn't have had all this fun.”  He swipes a bit of the cum off your stomach and rubs it against your lips before taking them into his own.

“So fucking delicious.”

➤ masterpost

↳ All works are ©️ jkeuphoriadreamland Do not upload, copy, translate, steal any of my works.

⥋ Chapter 01: tarmac

Masterlist

An engine splutters off in the street below.

The noise bounces off every silent surface, echoing through your small end of town.

You hit the floor, a string of silent curse words falling from your lips.

Carefully you shuffle to the window, debris rolling awkwardly under your feet as you peer into the street below.

You blow out a steadying breath as you use two fingers to slowly separate the blinds, eyes scanning the once deserted street.

You follow the trail of smoke, passing your eyes over the weave of cars and debris that littered the street. Smashed glass and blood are splattered across the street. It wasn’t an unusual sight any more, the chaos mere background noise to what you were on the lookout for.

You see two men climb out of the car parked haphazardly at the end of the road, both tall, both holding weapons. A brunette and a dirty blond, decent athletic builds, both clutching heavy melee weapons. Definitely not people you wanted to cross.

Mercifully they were facing away from you, jogging towards the looted stores a little way up the high street. And by the looks of it, they had left their vehicle unlocked.

You snuck back from the window, grabbing your rucksack and stuffing your recently looted items into the raggedy pockets. The pack had lasted you decently long enough, but soon it was gonna fall apart. But that was a bridge you had to cross when you get to it. Now wasn’t the time to get bogged down in the future when the present was so delicate.

You’d made it this far without being cornered by people, you weren’t about to change that now.

Tucking an ugly-looking can of prunes in your rucksack, you pull the cord and knot it tightly. You hoist it up on your back and pull your bandana back over your mouth and nose, ready to face the world outside. Well, ready was an overstatement, but needs must. You pick up the hockey stick you had recently looted and turn it over in your hands, letting it sit comfortably.

If you were careful, this would be a clean getaway, no one would even know-

Gunshots.

A gasp rips through you, panic seizing in your chest. You sink to your knees, the feeling of liquid seeping into the leg of your tatty jeans.

Your eyes subconsciously move to the source of the damp, wincing when your eyes come across the mess.

He had been young. Barely out of his teens, dirty blond hair and skinny. A crumpled suit and tie sit on his figure, good quality and well fitted.

It had only taken three blows to kill him. Again.

This was the reality now. The dead had refused to stay down, and the country was engulfed in less than a week. Who knew what happened to the rest of the world.

Those left alive that hadn’t been bit and turned had grown cruel. It was less dog eat dog, and more human eat human.

You were determined not to be caught up in it.

Days had stretched into weeks, weeks into months and before long time wasn’t something to record, but just survive. There was nothing left of your family, your friends, the life you once knew. The only thing that you had left was a heightened sense of anxiety, a hockey stick, and an unappealing tin of prunes.

And now, a difficult escape.

You could hear two raised voices. The men must have realised how dumb it was to shoot their gun, the noise ricochetting off the barren street.

At least, there was no-

Moans. Unmistakable and blood-curling. Dozens of them.

You stagger to your feet and sprint to the window, all worries of subtlety gone. You rip open the blinds and scan the street, watching as a shambling herd of the undead move into the outskirts of the street.

The summer heat had rotted their bodies, a haze seemed to follow the falling-apart mass as they shuffled closer to your location. You knew the smell that rolled off them. You’d been too close to the nightmares more times than you cared to count. But there was never time to focus, just the imperative need to escape. You rip your eyes away, heart thudding in your chest.

“Fuck!” You shout, turning and sprinting to the door.

The noise of the engine must have drawn them in your general direction. The gunshot signed your death warrant.

There was no way you could stick around - once you’re trapped, they will find you. And no matter how much your stamina had improved since everything had imploded, you didn't think fighting off twenty of the undead bastards was entirely possible.

You leap over the oozing body and scramble down the stairs, throwing open the door and stumbling into the street, hockey stick brandished. You draw in a staggered breath through your bandana, heart beating erratically in your chest.

The herd hadn’t gotten too close, but you were rapidly running out of options. You scan the area for the best route out of the town, over high fences and back-to-back buildings.

Then, in the midst of unnatural and close rumbles of growls, you spot it: the vehicle, the one the men had left unlocked. You didn’t have time to play nice, it was either them or you.

But then you spot them, two figures jogging up the high street, weapons in hand. The smaller one slows, finally noticing you. You use his hesitation as your moment to strike.

You begin sprinting, ignoring the immoral guilt that builds in the depth of your stomach. Seemingly noticing your plan, the blonde one shouts at his companion. The smaller brushes him aside, tearing towards the car.

You had to get to the car. It was the only way to safely get away from the horde for good. It was the only way to survive, and if that meant living with the guilt of leaving survivors behind… well. You’ve had to survive worse. They would too.

Your feet smack loudly on the tarmac as you run, the sound drowned out by the shambling horror emitting from the undead.

You’re not far from the car, and the men are slowed as they weave through cars and debris in the street. Escape is hot in your veins, the tentative touch of escape brushing on your skin.

But then one of the undead staggers out from an alley, and you’re blindsided.

It catches you by the shoulder, sending you both tumbling into the debris-covered road. Your skin burns from skidding on the ground but you force yourself to ignore it, rolling away from the creature. It lands next to you, oblivious to the noise it’s brittle bones makes as it hits the tarmac. Its fingers grasp at your jeans, clawing itself closer to you, teeth gnashing angrily.

You crawl away, getting just enough distance to raise your hockey stick and bring it down on the creature’s temple. There’s a loud crack, and the grip around your leg loosens. You kick the undead mass away from you, ignoring the dark congealed splatters of blood that coats your clothes and hockey stick.

The gargle that was forced out of what was left of its mouth ceased, but you didn’t have time to celebrate your victory. The mass of bodies were close, only twenty yards away and shambling closer. And the stench they brought with them was pungent, threatening to make your eyes water.

The adrenaline courses through you as you race back to your feet, stinging plaguing your skin. You trip, body aching as you push on, pulse thumping in your ears.

But you force one foot in front of the other, hurtling yourself at the car.

Your fingers graze the plastic trim of the handle when you’re shoved by the shoulder, slamming you back into the rear door.

Fear seizes you as you claw desperately at your hockey stick, only to be met with dark eyes. Living, angry dark eyes.

One of the men stands opposite you, a frown so deep on his face that you thought he was going to kill you there and then. Blood splatter is dotted over his smooth skin, freckles hidden under the dark drops. An angry mist settles over his face, along with something all too recognisable - fear. Your lower lip trembles, but it remains hidden behind your bandana.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He snaps, furious eyes probing your face. His voice is low, dangerously low, striking you right in the centre of your chest.

“Trying to survive-“

“Tae, we gotta go. Let her in-“

“No way, Joon. She was gonna take the car! Why should we?”

“Make your mind up, or we’ll all die!” You shout, bashing his hand from your shoulder and eyeing the horde over his shoulder. They weren’t far - just a few moments and they’d be on you.

“Taehyung, we save lives first.”

The angry one, Taehyung, stares at you, eyes burning bright as he sizes you up. You hold firm, determined not to buckle under his pressure.

“Get in.”

He steps back from you, ripping the driver door open and jumping in. You don’t hesitate, opening the door and throwing yourself inside, your rucksack digging into your back and your hockey stick propped against the door. The other man, Joon, gets in the back beside you, heavy pants palling from his lips.

Taehyung turns on the engine, the vehicle slowly rumbling to life. You spin, staring out of the dusty rear window as hands slam onto the glass, making you cry out.

The car lurches forward as shadows begin to cover the windows. Your heart is in your throat as you heave in a breath, eyes scanning around you as the rev of the engine drowns out the hollow groans that surrounded the car.

Soon you’re flying, Taehyung throwing the car through the gears as he tears through the streets. The growls growl distant, and you stare out of the rear window, your breathing slowing beginning to even out.

As the adrenaline slowly begins to wear off, you feel the scrapes and aches from your knock in the road. Your joints ached, lack of sleep pulled tightly at your bones, your lungs burned from exertion.

“God that was way too close.” The long man next to you sighed, slumping in the chair and huffing in a breath. He virtually slides off his seat, hands slapping across his chest.

Despite yourself, you smile, watching as he squishes in the tight space. You were almost giddy, the ebb of adrenaline and the taste of survival swirling in your mind. You promptly stop the noise when you see Taehyung jerk awkwardly in the front seat, harsh eyes glaring at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Thank you. For not leaving me.” You state, straightening in your seat.

“It was the right thing to do.” Joon shrugs in the seat, though the move is jerky.

“Kim Namjoon.” He smiles, thick lips stretched across his teeth, dimples poking out as he reaches a hand to you to shake.

You’re floored at how nice he was being, and concern prickled under your skin. You gripped your hockey stick tighter, ready to strike, as you reached out to shake his hand. But all he does is bounce your hands a few times, his big warm hand enveloping yours.

You want to trust him, you realise. You know you shouldn’t, you know that you shouldn’t be in the car with them like this. But your gut twists, the chance at finding someone decent in the world too good to be true.

“Y/N.” You state, lips forming half a smile.

“Nice to meet another living breathing human. Up front is Taehyung.” He gestures, finally wriggling up into a sitting position.

You flick your eyes to Taehyung and smile weakly at him. All he does is meet your eye for the briefest second before turning his harsh gaze back on the road, thick brow furrowed.

“Charming. Sorry, he’s not usually this cold. Half our group are still missing and-”

“Namjoon! We can’t trust her, don’t say anything else.”

“This is about humanity, Tae. Stop being-”

“Look, uh, Namjoon. Honestly, it’s okay. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. It’s really fine.” You assure him.

He offers you a sad look before giving Taehyung a withering one. He looks at you in the rear-view mirror, and you do your best to avoid his icy glare. You didn’t want to be here any more than he did.

You flick your eyes away from him, letting them land in your lap. Bloody covers nearly every inch of your jeans, tears from your skid on the road gaping across your knees and thighs. Every inch stings, but now wasn’t the time to lick your wounds. You needed to be safe before you let your guard down. And that meant being alone.

“Look, thanks for helping me out there, and I’m sorry for trying to take your car but we all have to survive somehow. If you can just pull over, I can get out anywhere and-”

“Alone?” Namjoon gasps, and you look at him, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? We have plenty of space-”

“Joon, no way!” Taehyung shouts from the front, his voice dangerously low. His fingers are gripped tightly over the wheel, knuckles paling under the pressure.

The world whips past you, the outcrops of the town faded into motorway and forest that surround it. The car moves fast, Taehyung careful to avoid debris and abandoned cars that litter the motorway. The evening light slowly creeps over the world that surrounds you, and if you keep your eyes up, it's a pretty sight.

“No, it’s fine.” You say eventually, you stab of offence rippling through you. You would do the same in his situation, but it still stung.

However you realise that these men didn’t seem so bad. At least, not right now. You shuffle in your seat, your rucksack digging awkwardly into your back.

“But you’re alone!” Namjoon shouts, spinning in his seat to face you.

“Yeah, I’m just fine. I’ve been on my own since the beginning, I can handle it now.” You smile sadly at him, and you watch as his face appears crestfallen.

“But that’s not right.” Namjoon whispers.

“Truly, it’s fine. You’re the first survivors I’ve met in the last two months who haven’t tried to kill me or whatever. I don’t want to wait and see if you will.”

Your words are harsher than you intend, but the truth rings painfully loud. A silence settles in the car, the thoughts and sights you had all seen in such a short time playing out. The world was different, harsh and broken.

The minutes tick by, the occasional undead falling behind as you plough past. The sky dips into a deep purple, the dark whispers of the night coming into view.

Taehyung shifts in front of you, and you meet his stoic gaze, and for the slightest of moments, he seemed softened, his humanity peeking through his world-beaten shell. But it passes in an instant, his eyebrows creasing as he closes himself off once more.

The car begins to slow, the steady rumble doing little to still the worry that swirls into your gut.

Yes, these men are strangers. But inside that car, the chaos of the world outside was removed, forgettable. People as a whole couldn’t be trusted, but a certain person or two could be.

You move slow, the hockey stick tightly held in your fist as you move for the door handle.

“Look, you don’t have to survive this alone-“

“Namjoon-“

“No please, Y/N. Let me finish. If you do decide that you don’t want to be alone, I'll come back here at noon for the next two days. If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

“Joon! That’s not for you to decide.” Taehyung eyes you warily before looking back at his friend, concern pulled tight on his face.

“Tae, you’re not this heartless.” Namjoon spits, anger bubbling hotly on his face.

“Someone has to be.” He mouths, facing forward again, hands balling into fists on the wheel. You swallow thickly, sliding to the edge of your seat.

“That’s kind of you, but really. I’ll be okay.”

Namjoon huffs, lips pulled tight as he examines your face. But you hold firm, and finally he relents, letting out a sigh.

“I’ll still wait but… good luck. Good luck with everything.”

You nod at him, a pang resonating through your chest. You cast a quick eye around the area, eyes hovering over the random outcrop of cars and overturned tanker that sat awkwardly across the central reservation. You open the door, the warmth of the evening hitting you like a wall.

“Thanks for not leaving me.” You offer weakly to Taehyung.

He clears his throat awkwardly, moving to meet your eyes in the mirror. A frown crosses his face, his deep gaze locked with yours.

“Don’t.. uh, die.” He offers, deep voice barely above a whisper.

You feel Namjoon wither on the seat beside you, an exasperated sigh leaving him. But you smile, despite yourself.

“Yeah, you too.”

Finally you force yourself out of the car, shutting the door behind you and walking off the road down the grassy embankment. You couldn’t look back, they were offering you something you couldn’t accept. Not in this world, not any more.

The engine rumbles away from you, and you know you need to get moving. But something tugs at you.

People. The only people you’d seen in two months that hadn’t shot at you had just… driven away. And although you’ve survived for so long on your own, the pit of loneliness that had made a home in your chest seemed to grow.

But you stamp that feeling down as far as you can. Feelings will get you killed.

Despite being on his very best behavior, his clumsiness was made apparent when he tripped over his two left feet and sent your birthday cake flying through the air, candles and all. When he saw the look on your face, he was pleasantly surprised that you burst into giggles instead of breaking down in tears like he thought you would.

“Y/N, don’t do that,” yelled your mother. You had scooped up a handful of birthday cake and began throwing it at the poor boy who found himself running away from you as his own laughter echoed throughout the park.

Soon enough the other girls at your party began to chase the lone prince with chunks of cake and frosting falling from their sticky hands. You paid no mind to your dirtied princess costume as you laughed and played until the sun set below the horizon.

The craziest birthday Namjoon celebrated with you was your thirteenth. Several new boys had moved to town and you were quick to befriend them as well. Your party that year was held at an indoor facility with everything ranging from laser tag to go-karts.

“I’ve been hit,” Taehyung, one of the younger boys, yelled as he took a hit for you. “I-I can’t…go on. Avenge…me,” he gasped in feigned agony as he fell to his knees in front of you.

Namjoon, on the other team, shoots poor Taehyung one more time for good measure before giving you a dimpled grin and running off to find his next victim. Something about his smile made your stomach do flip flops and your heart beat a little faster.

Later that evening, after all of your energy is gone and your other friends have gone home, Namjoon and you return to your house. The two of you go up to your bedroom and lie in bed together as you look up at the ceiling. He smells like fresh laundry and books.

You talk late into the night about things that only the moon knows now, his light filtering in through an open window.

The sweetest birthday you celebrated with the boy was, ironically, your sixteenth. You had more friends now, and you were more mature now. The themed parties you had as a child were a thing of the past. Nowadays people’s birthdays consisted of fancy dinners and party buses, and they cost a pretty penny.

Namjoon helped you save up for the party, taking on an after school job to help pay for the expenses. Your job paid, but it didn’t pay well. The two of you combined saved enough for a Paris-themed party. From mini macarons to cupcakes with fleur-de-lis on them, it had sweets to last for days.

The party was great, and it was wonderful to spend time with your friends, but your favorite part of the night was undoubtedly when you and Namjoon were walking home from the restaurant.

There was a chill in the air that had you rubbing your hands up and down your arms.

“Here.” The boy shrugged off his jacket before handing it to you.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” A dimple framed smile graced his face and filled you with a sense of comfort. Namjoon had the funny ability to make you feel at ease no matter the situation.

That night as you walked up to your front door, the two of you lingered there. You aren’t sure how long you stood there, time seeming to bleed into itself.

All you remember of that moment is his lips on your own. They were slightly chapped but still soft, the fresh smell of citrus and the smell of old books floods your senses, your body hyper-aware of how close he is to you.

Your favorite birthday with Namjoon though, is this one.

He wakes you up that morning with the smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen and you’re immediately on alert. With his past attempts at cooking on your mind, you rush out of your shared bedroom and make a beeline for the kitchen.

When you nearly trip over your own two feet into the kitchen, you’re relieved when you see that Jin is in there with him. Namjoon smiles sheepishly as he realizes what you thought and apologizes.

“What’s all this?” You gesture to the meal laid out in front of you.

“Happy birthday!” The two of them yell in unison.

“Happy birthday Y/N,” your boyfriend continues. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed but then I realized that that might not be the best idea.” Hie rubs his hand over the back of his neck sheepishly.

You laugh at his explanation, the sound putting a smile on Namjoon’s face.

“I have plans for later too so I’m going to pick you up from work. If that’s okay,” he’s quick to add the last bit.

He says goodbye to you and gives you a kiss on the forehead as you leave for work that morning and it seems like the day goes on forever, no end in sight. When four o’clock finally does roll around, you’re anxious to see what the man has planned.

Namjoon is waiting for you outside when you walk out of the office, a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he smiles at you, all of your anxiety wash away. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re taking the bus,” he laughs.”

“This is why you should get your license.” You playfully punch his shoulder as you accept the flowers from his outstretched hand.

He ignores your playful jab and takes your hand, walking towards the bus stop. There’s a number of buses he takes you on, each one leading your further and further away from the city before you arrive at a small park.

When you get off of the bus, all of a sudden there’s something blocking your eyes. The soft fabric brushes against the tip of your nose causing you to giggle. “Kinky.”

Namjoon ignores your comment and begins to slowly guide you. Towards what, you aren’t sure.

Your heels sink into the soft grass causing your to trip a little as you walk before you decide that you’ll just take them off. The feeling of the grass between your toes and the soil beneath your feet brings you back to simpler times. Back when all you would do was run through the park with him. Before life caught up to you and you were told you needed to grow up.

Your boyfriend finally stops after a few minutes and removes the blindfold.

After your eyes adjust to the light, the sight before you nearly takes your breath away. In front of you is a small table with plates and food laid out, candles flickering in the waning sunlight.

“Happy birthday. Again.”

“What is all this?”

“You’ve been really busy lately,” he says. “I thought that maybe you could use some time to destress and, with your birthday coming up, I figured why not?”

You turn around and kiss him tenderly. “Thank you.”

Dinner goes by peacefully as the two of you make small talk, talking about your days and what you’ve been up to. Your conversation bleeds long into the night. The candles are burning low and the food has long been eaten.

Namjoon and you begin to pack up the stuff so that you can go home for the night, conscious of the bus schedule. He tells you to go on ahead and that he’ll catch up shortly, but when you walk ahead several paces and don’t hear his steps behind you, you turn around in confusion and, for the third time that day, your breath is taken away.