NIGHT WORLD MASTERLIST

NIGHT WORLD MASTERLIST

The laws of Night World are very clear: humans must never learn that Night World exists. And members of Night World must never fall in love with a human. Violate these laws and the consequences will be terrifying for everyone involved.

Knowing the laws, are you prepared to face the consequences of the Council?      ↳ YES | NO

Welcome to the most deadly game of love there is.

overdrive › jjk ↳ vampire au, soulmate au

❝ i love you against every fiber of my being ❞

doomed › myg ↳ vampire au, soulmate au

❝ you should have killed me when you had the chance ❞

instinct › pjm ↳ werewolf au, soulmate au

❝ i’ll give you everything, if you let me ❞

visceral › knj ↳ vampire au, soulmate au

❝ i won’t fail you like i have before ❞

devour › kth ↳ vampire prince au, soulmate au

❝ careful, or i’ll eat you up ❞

mercy › jhs ↳ vampire au, soulmate au

❝ it’s the only way we can be together ❞

drown › ksj ↳ witch au, soulmate au

❝ you know, i think i’ll keep you around ❞

all rights reserved © junqkook | DO NOT REPOST.

Yellow Calf, 1 (M)

pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

genre: action, comedy, smut, spy!jungkook

warnings: language, descriptions of violence, drugging* sort of, dom!jk, manipulative!jk, drunk sex, smut is pretty vanilla if you ask me, dirty talk

word count: 20.1k

parts: pls refer to masterlist!

synopsis; he’s your too good for this world, kind hearted and chivalrous next door neighbour who irks you just a tad bit. isn’t he?

*repost from indieguk, revamped

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Domestic Experiment, 1

pairing: jimin x reader (f)

genre: smut, fluff, marriage au

warnings: sexuality misinterpretation, marriage for citizenship, jimin being a baby mochi, dirty talk—it’s plausible ngl, foreplay, grinding, erotic asphyxiation, palming,

word count: 4.1k

synopsis; you’re the only cherry Jimin’s gay ass would pop.

a/n; the reader is described as a korean girl for the sake of the credibility of the plot, if that does not appeal to you simply do not read and allow those who don’t mind to enjoy!! thank you!!

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Strike Three

Description: When discipline and chaos meet, one will always rise to the top.

Genre: Smut (18+)

Word Count: 24.4k

Warnings: S/M themes, very!bratty MC, dubious consent, rough sex (spanking and slapping included), evil amounts of edging, toy use, breathplay, cumplay, oral sex, handjobs, degradation, slight dacryphilia, zero aftercare.  

A/N: I’m back from hiatus! Well, ish. I’m still going to be incredibly busy over the course of January, but hey! At least I got this done and posted, right?? :’) I hope y’all enjoy the newest outpouring of filth that my mind has conjured.

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Hushed Whimpers Of The Night

⌲ summary : He was nowhere far from being perfect, he was someone that every passing pair of eyes linger with admiration on—and that’s the thing, because you’re the first and only person to discover the dark secrets beneath this facade when you find out the dead body of the school janitor might be the doing of the popular president of the dance club, Park Jimin.

⌲ pairing : vampire!jimin x detective!reader

⌲ word count : 11k

⌲ genre : super weird & gory , smut , murder

⌲ warnings : spanking, oral, intercourse, dom!jimin,  gore, murder.

⌲ a/n : lol! this was for halloween but someone was a lazy lil’ bitch. my very first time writing a.. vampire!au? I tried anyways and wanted this to be special 

 >< sorry for the delay guys~

The sound of your apex ringtone blares through the entire room.

You grunt in disapproval before reaching out to find your cellphone and shut it the hell up.

Your flopping hand blindly sweeps a few pieces of paper to the ground, still in a messy search for your resounding device. With a few pens clamouring to the floor in an unpleasant manner, you finally got a hold of your phone at the very corner of the desk. 

Switching it off for a peaceful snooze, you tuck your head back to your folded arms in irritation. Who the hell wakes up this early? The bedroom was still dim with a hue of purple, signalling that the sun hasn’t even fully gone up. Then why the hell did you even set an alarm-

“Fuck!”

You spring up from your seat, the soreness creeping up onto one side of your neck and infinite needles pricking at your legs as blood rushes to a particular place.

Your mind was still a cloudy fog from the minimal amount of sleep you had managed to steal, despite the amount of workload you have on your shoulders. Rotating your head in all directions, the bones cracked disturbingly satisfying as your senses begin to refresh.

 Scurrying to pick up all the fallen objects, you are reminded of what you have to get done by today. If not your boss may just chop your head off without sparing you another glance. Of course there were people who wake up this early, at 6 in the morning (though you deem it as inhumane and ruthless), they had a job to get done. 

People like, take for example, you—who was going to revisit university to wrap up an unsolved mystery. 

Staring at the assorted case files in your hands, you sighed—mostly at how this operation required quite a whole lot of effort and intricate planning—or else, one tiny loophole and you’re fucked for life.

Quite literally, because it’s a murderer you’re trying to throw behind bars.

 A murderer so sly, that the whole world did not spare another glance at her death before quickly dismissing it as a mere incident. 

The police are useless, if you were to be honest. But that is also the main point of your job. Finish leftovers, you call it. Because the cops are unbelievably impotent in finding the real truth and arresting the legitimate criminals. All they are good at is shoot fines at litterbugs and issue parking tickets. And maligning people.

 In your situation, there is no scapegoat. The scapegoat belongs to none other than the body that’s buried six feet under by now. Self-inflicted death, was the final adjudication. You attended the court trials for this case, only to witness the massive half-heartedness of the victim’s lawyer and the strong competency of the defense attorney. Suspect scurried free of any charges with a smug grin plastered to his face when the judge slams the gavel against the sound block, declaring the man innocent. You know that he is nothing but innocent—the game has only just begun.

You couldn’t afford to screw this up, not after doing so for the past twenty-three cases. You ought to thank your great saviour Seokjin, who always had your back, consistently rounding up half-opened cases and completing your untidy reports with intricacy. You could still keep your job because of him, honestly. He was your colleague, and best friend along the way, add on the constant grumbles and sighs about how irresponsible and unorganised you were—despite the many empty promises of changing for the better the next time.

That next time never came, somehow.  

He would provide the answers to your doubts, and give you the small push you need in solving a case—he was like the helping hand of an angel that reached out to you during your worse state of despair and misery. 

Seokjin had many great points about himself, being the studious and righteous detective that he was—but it wasn’t like you lacked any. 

There was a reason why you joined this industry, mind you. Your dear colleague may be a top-notch police officer, but when it comes to telling lies and deceiving people—he was nothing but purely horrible at it. Bright and candid cops couldn’t lie for shit. And that is why one part of his job is not only tying up your loose ends, but it also includes being the backup for the apprehension of criminals you would expose at the end of your duty.

 You call it the cool part of the entire procedure of your job—the part where Seokjin steps in behind you at the perfect second and the both of you raise your police badges in front of the criminal’s face, as you watch their expression drop from smug to an utter state of shock and irises filled to the brim with betrayal and a dying vengeance towards you—though, it does leave you a little mortified by their threatening gaze.

And that is also why, you were chosen to be sent for this case instead of hardworking Seokjin.

After you freshened up and got ready—picking out the clothes you have bought for this special operation, thinking about how your boss should give you a thirty percent pay raise for being this dedicated to your job—your eyes examined the entire outfit in the mirror, face beaming with satisfaction at how you looked. 

Your appearance reminded you of the other reason you were picked for this—you manage to pull off the college girl look, while Seokjin on the other hand still cracked dad jokes with every chance given to him. 

Though he still looked incredibly handsome and young for a man reaching 30, the crow feet at the side of his eyes would expose his age whenever he laughs. Though, his inner child spirit shined the brightest whenever he was with you.

Suddenly, a muffled buzz can be heard from somewhere on your study table. You scramble through the mountain stack of papers, flipping every underside of each sheet, until you come upon a rectangular screen that screams the name “Jinie” with his signature after-blow-kissing smile. You barely skim through his features with a tinge fondness, before swiping and bringing the phone to your ears.

“Waddup-“

“Oh my god, Y/N.” He cuts you off immediately.

“What?” You questioned, wondering if it could be good or bad news.

“You’re awake!” He exclaims, and you can see the excitement and pride he wore on his face.

You sighed into the call purposefully, both fatigue and disappointment lacing in that single breath of dread.

“You’re actually awake, I think the sun rose from the west today.”

“Yes, I am Jin. What’s your deal?” You just wanted to get to the main point of his call, and set off to campus.

“Firstly, and most importantly, I’ll be your in-ear.”

Eyes widening in an instant, you blink to take a moment to register what he had just informed.

“My-what?!”

“In-ear, yes.” He finishes your sentence calmly, and you’re everything but that. “You will listen and follow every instruction I give, obediently.” He drags on the last word, placing strong emphasis on how you had to behave. You rolled your eyes so hard they almost fall out of your sockets. As if he can feel the impact of your eye rolling through the telephone lines, he relents, “Sorry, just following orders from the big guy.”

You could hear the amount of pity he had for this entire situation—for you.

“Well, it’s time to hit the books!” Your voice was strained with enthusiasm.

It was going to be a tough case.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s a little weird for me to enrol in the middle of fall?” You tilt your head to the side, eyes scanning the numerous students walking into the university’s front entrance at the start of the day for 8 am classes.

“No it isn’t, just get on with it already.” Seokjin chides and you begin your trail of footsteps into the school as well. “Patience is a virtue, Seokjin.”

You were in search for a man. A man specifically by the name Park Jimin. Aforementioned suspect who walked out of court free of any sentences. And to be even more specific, the man who (you really, strongly believe) is the murderer of Song Kyujin, a janitor who worked in this university. You strolled into campus like an ordinary student, studying materials in hand—with a goal set in mind.

This university was way too crowded for your liking. Unlike the private police academy you had attended back then, there was always a person in sight with every turn of your head in here.

Thank god you had studied the entire map of this area, for you were wasting no time, rushing to the head office to settle some absolutely necessary paperwork. Like your fake student identification card for entry, and notifying the entire student council and lecturers on your fresh unsuspicious arrival to this university. The law enforcement have already seek the cooperation of the school for the approval and permission for carrying out this discrete investigation. And you were the bait thrown into the lake of piranhas. But for a sickening plot twist, one which you have been through many a times—it has turned cliché for you. You are poison dropped in the water.

You beamed with satisfaction at your brand new identity, it certainly felt intriguing to return to being a student. One that you have always longed to be again the moment you entered the adult life of burdensome responsibilities and unwanted taxes. A student’s life consisted of many things: books, friends, lovers, clubs and parties. Parties, your personal favourite. Free alcohol, cute boys and sick music. Maybe you could even score yourself a hot footballer with the body of a Greek god. You would very much like to include ‘sleep’ into the list, but judging by the size of the eye bags and droopiness of the eyes of everyone in here, adequate rest is probably unable to make the cut for the list.

You entered a private meeting room at the office, alone with the one and only chancellor of this school. 

You have been in this place before, more than a couple of months back when the incident had just occured.

 You remember the many neon yellow barricade tapes that surrounded the women’s bathroom on the third floor of the building of Health Sciences— the very ones who shield the peering eyes of onlookers from her mangled body. 

You remember the team assigned attentively watching the surveillance camera footages around the entire school circling the timing of death, with a result of vacant hallways that consisted of nobody but a male student and the victim herself. And that is how they came up with a conclusion that the death—could possibly be caused by the student, or was self-caused and there wasn’t any intention behind it other than a tragic fall. The student was caught on camera, as seen as the last person to loiter around the building at that time.

 Every detail that was discovered seemed to correspond, with the exception of an underrated beauty like autopsy and the unexplained sight of the unknown student in the same hallway half an hour before her death. 

The dead can’t speak, but they certainly do not lie.

Song Kyujin had hypotension, which made her dizzy in the wee hours after work, resulting in her loss of footing on the wet floor she had just mopped. She had suffered a fatal blow to the head, a crack in the skull that split her head open by a sharp corner of the countertop leading to excessive blood loss, followed by death. 

According to statistics, an average human will die after losing 40 percent of the blood in their body. But seeing as to how her entire body had turned as whiter than paper, her toes dried till crisp and her flesh turning both streaky and tough—you have a conjecture that she did not lose her life from a simple slip of the foot.

But police being police, they chose to overlook these minor details that went against the majority’s deduction on the matter. Song Kyujin died accidentally, and that was how it was reported on the news. The pit of your stomach is filled with indigence for the dead woman and you wished to seek justice, pretty confident that those tiny loopholes would actually bring you somewhere. 

Something felt off, the longer you stared at her corpse—her eyes weren’t even fully closed when her body was found—and for some reason, you could see how hollow they were, like they were filled with emptiness and sorrow. Kyujin wasn’t a very happy person, that you’ve inferred from how her skin was barely hiding her cheekbones, her arms look like they would snap into two like a twig if you merely touched them, and the heavy bags under her eyes.

She was poor, with no kin or kith—what was better profile to make as a forgotten victim of murder?

No one else was supposed to know about your true identity, nothing but a new transfer student from another university faraway. He sits at the end of the long table, and you stand beside him with your hands placed neatly at your sides. Essentials of police professionalism, ugh.

“So, you specifically requested for the President of the Dance Club to bring you around campus?”

Mr. Kim cocks an eyebrow up at your seemingly strange favour you had asked of him prior a few seconds ago.

“Yes, sir.”

You gulped, silently praying that he is completely oblivious to your bending of rules. Usually, undercover cops are not supposed to resort to means of gaining external help and support to achieve their goal of gathering evidence or getting close to the perpetrators to crack the case. Usually.You weren’t even supposed to let dear Mr. Kim to know about the orders you received from the people up there. You weren’t even supposed to let anyone in this compound know who you are.

But oh, please. It was more like a necessary action to be executed. A method, to save you from the redundant hassle to get what you had wanted. Approaching the suspect directly, with a lame stunt or forced set-up, would be way too boring for you. So why not spice things up, and get the suspect to approach you? Furthermore, you wanted to get this job over and done with, successfully—because if you screw this simple case up like all the previous ones, not even God would be able to save you.

“It’s part of the plan.” You hurriedly supply the reason to your request lest he probed any further.

He nods in understanding, before flipping through the thick ring file on the table before him, going through the confidential background and information of every student.

“Park Jimin..?”

Mr. Kim hums his name with a tinge of confusion, and the raise of his brows and pursing of his lips wholeheartedly doubts your choice of person. But the job had to be done.

His pointer finger stops at a page under the letter ‘P’ and glides over to the left page cautiously, the pad of his finger now repeatedly tapping on Jimin’s record.

With a sigh, he voices his worry. “Hopefully this boy has got nothing to do with your case.” He unclips the slip of important information belonging to the suspect from the file.

You weren’t one bit surprised at the chancellor’s reaction, because Jimin was after all the school’s prestigious dance president and scholarship holder.

“Well, I cannot reveal anything for now.” You receive the piece of paper filled with Jimin’s biography from his hand and continue, “But he certainly can be of great aid to my investigation.” You flash a sincere smile at the surprisingly cooperative principal, politely taking your leave after a bow.

Taking a quick glance of your watch, you revert your eyes back to the surrounding of willow trees, gravel pavements and the iconic gothic style buildings of this school. You had seven minutes till your target would appear and make his way to you, like expected. Everyone in here treated you like a shadow, not even realising you had abruptly slithered into the university in mid-autumn. Things would have been complicated if it were in high school.

College sucks the soul out of every living organism in it, the copious amount of workload and quizzes, and projects with deadlines faster than lightning and the boss battle

finals—it was unimaginably stressful and horrendous.

Everyone’s in a fast-paced marathon for that degree certificate—a stable life buoy for the unsettling and rapid waves of the future that awaits them. But you were here for a sole purpose, and that is to bring justice to light-

“Are you done with acting cool and heroic?” Seokjin suddenly sliced through your thoughts by speaking directly into your ear. You could say quite literally.

“What-“

“I can picture you sitting on a bench, with a cup of coffee in hand, looking out into the blur distance and pretending to be thinking hard about this case.”

You keep silent, looking over to the cappuccino in hand and the bench you were sitting on.

Holy shit.

Seokjin carries on.

“Anyway, you didn’t happen to forget I was here all along right? I certainly didn’t think you would stoop this low and take short cuts.” Fuck, you’d actually forgot about his blatant eavesdropping. You can practically see the smirk forming on his plump ass lips and the clear mischief sewn in his words—he was going to make you a slave from a single threat, for your boss must not know about this at all, or you might say goodbye to your position forever.

“Jin, I’ll give you the best suck of your entire life, you would feel like you’d been thrown into another universe!” You quickly yell, trying to convince the man in your ear to take this secret to his grave. A few students pop their heads in your direction and you hide your face in both palms in utter embarrassment.

 You didn’t realise you were being this loud.

 Seokjin seems to be taken aback, before he replies, “I don’t mind.”

You have no time to register his answer, and the fact that Jin had just agreed to you sucking his dick—probably after this whole operation ends. Because the perpetrator is seen at the carpark, walking into campus, towards you. The nerves are starting to get to you, because just from afar, you can already tell he was a handsome lad whose looks would make you stumble on your words.

“Hey, you have about 35 seconds to remind me about Jimin because my mind’s a blank right now.”

Without delay, he begins introducing said man making his way to your side.

“Park Jimin, born in Busan, age 23, president of the Dance-“

“No! Like his interests and shit!” You speedily put him on the right track. Jimin is no more than 20 metres away from you.

“He likes cats, loves to dance, enjoys night time-“ Seokjin blurts out.

“Favourite food?” You question, hoping the both of you would click well on the topic of food.

“Wait, what? He doesn’t have-”

“You’re Park Jimin?” You miss the end of Seokjin’s sentence, standing up to give Jimin’s outstretched hand a firm shake.

A wide grin creeps onto his face, yet it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“And you’re Y/N.” He doesn’t even ask.

 You open your mouth to give confirmation but- “I’ll show you around.” 

Or wait for your acknowledgement.

 Park Jimin, he looks like he jumped out from the photograph, exactly the same in real life—strikingly handsome and unbelievably charming, there’s a certain point to admire about the sharp angle of his nose and the ridge along the bridge of it, the shimmer in his eyes encompasses a kind of hollowness to it, yet they pierce through your orbs so beautiful it leaves you astonished. Something about Jimin is extremely alluring, and you can’t help but lock your gaze on his features for more than a second or so. His silver fringe fall over his eyes and he sweeps it to the back with a nonchalance that reels you into something you’re unsure of—but you know it is not anything good at all.

You’re not even kidding when you say Jimin did a pretty slobbish job at showing you around the entire campus like he promised.

He was nice, nevertheless, maintaining a slow pace to allow you to walk beside him and not have you tagging along like a lost puppy. However, what was quite distracting was the fact that the random blotches of girls that always can’t seem to pull their eyes away from Jimin as they walk by. His features are carved like a pure angel and his eyes would crinkle every time he sends you a smile so bright it could blind. It didn’t come to you as a surprise, because Jimin is one of the most handsome faces you have ever met. Thank goodness Seokjin couldn’t hear your deepest thoughts of the beloved murderer.

You wanted to tease him for a bit. 

“Getting all the chicks, huh?” The remark made you sound like you’re being a little too casual with him and you bit your lip in regret instantly. 

“Not interested. They stink.” He replies curtly, a tinge of disgust rolling off his tongue.

You almost burst out into a huge laughter. Stink? It sounded funny coming from someone as proper as him. They smelled great, actually. Their sweet, fruity Victoria’s Secret perfume scent overflowing in everyone’s noses. Maybe Jimin wasn’t into that.

 He was sweet too, that you’ve noticed because he’d stop every so often when encountered with a vending machine and offered to buy you a drink, to which you would always politely decline.

Not a chance of drinking something from a murderer.

Yes, he also made sure to answer all your redundant questions and gave you advice about your classes but you knew he did not reveal every corner of the school to you.

It was normal to be lazy on a task like bringing a new student around, but you realised the places he never showed were the ones you found all the evidence and clues linking him to the title of guilty. He couldn’t be that dumb, could he? It felt almost as if he wants you to find the truth and you were playing right into his hands. 

Wait, if he didn’t know you were a cop, what was with all these intentions? Unless-

“Y/N?” He snapped you out of your trance. You hated how your name flowed out of his lips smoother than honey.

“Yes?” Remaining calm, you try to recall the last thing he’s said.

But to no avail. Your mind was occupied with thoughts like how intelligent Jimin actually is and you doubting your ability to complete this mission.

“I was saying, we’re quite done here.” Jimin never breaks eye contact and has both hands tucked away in the pockets of his ripped jeans so casually, it makes you shift uncomfortably for some reason.

“Oh okay. Thanks for today Jimin, I greatly appreciate that you came out of the way,” A smile begins to stretch over his features, and a knot twists in your heart. “to just show me around,” You let out a soft chuckle as you tug on the strap of your bag, thinking of ways to stall him and maybe even get him on a date.

He mirrors your smile and brings both palms together, “Well, are you doing anything for the rest of the day?”

“Actually,” You glance over the face of your watch. “I have nothing on at all.” Your lips curl upwards with anticipation smeared on your pink lip tint.

The french fries at this diner tasted exceptionally good.

You have no idea why you are stuffing one after another so hurriedly, as if they would disappear from your sight if your fork doesn’t get pitched into one after the other immediately.

On contrary, Jimin is reserved and he saws through the rare piece of steak with elegance.

Half the time, his eyes are caught boring into yours—like he could see through your entire plot—causing you to avert his gaze and gulp down your nerves.

The way he looks at you is endearing, like you were a piece of precious hidden gemstone or rather, the little bunny the wolf has set his eyes on. Sometimes he makes you forget that you are supposedly the one who is to take control.

“Slow down there,” He snickers at how famished you looked gobbling down all the food before you. “Save some room for dessert.”

He’s looking at you in that manner again, this time with a brow raised and a lopsided grin on display.

“U-Uh, right.” You bashfully wipe your mouth with the napkin, cheeks laminated with a sheen of red.

Ask why he didn’t choose to eat with his friends.

Seokjin’s sudden voice makes you jump a little, interrupting your moment of stuttering. 

You clear your throat, and Jimin looks at you in a strange way. 

You keep forgetting that Seokjin is technically by your side, eavesdropping on every conversation you have with anyone. Tucking a hair behind your ear and reaching for the glass of iced water, you take a sip to calm yourself down. The mindset of labelling the man sitting across you as ‘murderer’ needs to vanish. 

You have to remain on task.

“Can I ask you something?” You leaned in, elbows now on the table top.

“Sure, go ahead.” He mimics your action, as if to clearly listen to every word you had to say.

“Why didn’t you go have dinner with your friends?” The surrounding noises of plates clattering, sizzles coming from the kitchen and the indistinct chattering of customers—faded out into the background even more, and you are able to feel Jimin’s breath on your cheek.

You noticed how he swallows before he answers, “I wanted to eat with you.” The reply comes out short, sweet and straightforward. How honest he is able to act, is skilled and so natural to an extent where it is almost intimidating—like he has practiced lying for all his life. And it makes you wonder if you were even doing a good job at carrying out this whole act.

You raise a brow, unfazed by his statement.

“It’s like you have no friends.”

Your fingers tighten around the fork, stabbing viciously at the coleslaw.

“Mmm,” He hums in approval. “That’s a fact you’ve stated.”

Eyes widening, you shoot him a look of disbelief. 

Like how and why would the ever so charming dancer have no friends?

“Why not?” You can’t stop yourself from probing.

“I don’t..do that stuff.” Jimin’s face contorted in disgust, as if the human population were trash.

Yet here he was with you, eating dinner together at Pop’s.

“Am I not human,” You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if he even considered you as a friend.

“Or are you not,” You mutter under your breath, looking to the side.

Jimin simply smirks and chuckles, shaking his head—as if he heard the barely audible remark.

“That’s for you to find out.” At that your head flicks up to meet his eyes, and his annoying plump ass tilted lips, it was almost like he was challenging you. And you’re momentarily stunned at his reply. Jimin was like handing you the puzzle pieces for you to make out the entire picture.

Why are you acting like this?

“Hold the fuck up Kim Seokjin, I need a moment.” You place both hands on the edge of the sink, steadying yourself.

You’re literally stuttering and saying useless gibberish that will expose-

“I said I need a fucking moment!” You yelled at the thin suffocating air, eyes screwed shut in irritation when you realise the volume of your voice.

The lady washing her hands beside you sends you a judgemental look—as if you’ve gone bonkers—before leaving the washroom faster than usual would.

You took a deep breath to stabilise your emotional rollercoaster. You’re still as confused and anxious as ever. It was like nothing in the world could do anything to slow your racing heart.

“I’m scared. It’s a murderer I’m dealing with. I really wish you would know how complicated and nerve-wrecking this is for me.” You felt like crying, just from a dinner with Park Jimin.

It was true, this case was the most difficult and frightening to handle because, maybe just because, you saw how he basically slaughtered the janitor like she was a pig.

“And that at any moment, the one in the coffin would be none other than me.”

One wrong move and you could fuck it all up.

Maybe you felt paranoid and jumpy because Jimin—seemingly sweet and studious—was actually an insane killer who went at it when the chance was presented. 

You, being a girl who travelled across the country to study here, with a scarce amount of money, with no friends or family by your side (supposedly), suited the profile Kyujin once had.

You were no doubt next, considering how he had interests in you.

Hey, listen to me. You’re gonna do great okay?

Running your fingers through your hair, you left the washroom, along with your trepidation and unnecessary worries behind.

You aren’t even sure if Jimin knows who you actually are—because it seems like he does and you’re a stupid cop playing right into his hands—to becoming the next victim of his fetish for killing women. Now all you have to do is find substantial evidence that is sufficient to put him behind bars and avoid losing your life.

Tucking both hands into the pockets of his denim, Jimin lets out a laugh like a complete maniac. The fact that you have completely no idea who you are dealing with, how you think you have it all under control and that everything would go as planned. Your stupid little idea of trying to get close to him, then search for what you want before tearing him apart—he snickers even more at that, unable to comprehend why humans couldn’t just mind their own damn business and focus on their shitty lives and not try to outsmart their own kind. He can hear the erratic beating of your fearful heart, your blood rushing everywhere in your body at once is almost driving him off the edge of his last bit of abstinence. Usually, he would wait a few days, observing and understanding his prey during that period of time before he strikes.

But he’s been deprived from feeding for close to three months now, and he feels exceptionally thirsty today.

One wrong move and he could fuck it all up, as well.

Upon sensing the delicious sounds of your heartbeats growing louder yet slowing down, he clears his throat and adjusts his posture, choosing to remove his hands from his pockets and politely rest his arms on the table to live up to the gentlemanly show he was trying to put on for you.

You returned to your seat, hands coming to pull down the ends of your skirt nervously. Jimin runs his eyes over your body from top to bottom, your colour on your lips retouched now matching the shade of pink on your cheeks. God, just how much blood do you have? It seemed infinite for him to endlessly feast on—or maybe he was simply too hungry for some.

You already looked so desirable like this, he wonders just how much more the haemoglobin in your body was willing to offer to his tastebuds.

“Do you perhaps, want to grab a drink with me?”

You had thought that things would be taken nice and slow, a torturous journey you have long embraced yourself for ever since you stepped foot into the university—but it seems like Jimin had other plans in mind. Did this mean the shortcoming of your fatal death or the shortcut to get the mission accomplished?

You would never know.

Because Jimin leads your skeptical self to a bar just downtown, a couple turns into the depths of this town and the both of you stopped before a mediocre neon signboard, the words ‘Voyage’ traced across it in delicate purple.

Before he knows it, you are excitedly pushing your way through the heavy velvet curtains and hopping your way into the bar without further questions.

And before he knows it, your cheeks are tinted a light coral and your words are becoming slurred.

Giggling to yourself, you raise your shaky hand to the bartender and ask for more shots for the both of you. The smile on your face somehow manages to become brighter when the two shot glasses of vodka is slid your way. You drag your stool and scoot closer to him, bringing the drink to his face and offering him alcohol for what seemed like the twelfth time.

“Drink up, lover boy.” You giggle with eyes fixed on his pair of alluring ones. He gracefully accepts the drink and clinks glasses with you before downing the shot.

Somewhere into the night, the number of empty glasses on the countertop of the bar increases and the both of you are leaving Voyage in each other’s arms, in crazy laughters, wobbly legs and  clouded minds. You don’t fail to notice how Jimin simply shoves a thousand dollar bill into the bartender’s hands before holding you by the waist and walking out without bothering for change.

“Boop.” You tap your finger on the tip of his nose and your silly grin grows wider as Jimin looks genuinely surprised at your sudden antic. He can’t help but wonder if you’re always this adorable when drunk.  

The night is cold with the help of the howling winds, and Jimin tucks you closer to him. Yet strangely, it doesn’t feel warm enough.

 “Let me take you home.” He suggests and you politely decline the offer.

 “No home…” You mumble in a drunken haze and wrap your arms around him tighter. 

Jimin doesn’t reply to that, body keeping still but you can’t see his face. 

So you continue, “Take me to your home.”

It is a shameless request due to the fact that you had just met him today, and you both are no more than balancing on the thin line between acquaintances and friends.

 It is another factor aiding you in your investigation—the fact that he has no friends, or so he claims.  Jimin is a whole mystery in your eyes, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to have him figured out like you do to most criminals. 

At his doorstep, he is busy shrugging off his coat and tossing it over the metal rack. You stare at him with flushed cheeks and a small pout on your face.

And when he finally turns around and comes face to face with your glossy round eyes and slightly protruding bottom lip, he chuckles at how cute you look. “Why the sad face sweet bun?”

You sigh, “I have many questions for you.”

He helps you get rid of your long coat, mentally preparing himself for the silly array of questions that were about to come out of your inebriated self. “Fire, pretty face.”

It was exactly at this moment, you feel a slight buzz in your ear, and the mechanic is nothing but a piece of plastic in your ear now.

“Is there a reason why you don’t want to have friends?” You make full use of the fact of he thinks you’re tipsy, stepping closer and resting both hands onto his sweater-clad waist.

“I might just kill them.” Jimin chuckles, like killing was a fun sport he does like tennis every sunday. Your both feet are rooted to the ground and you wonder if he sees the change in expression on your face. You were sure your face by now was white as sheet and your legs gone jelly, trembling in fear. 

Your lips part, you want to say something to him but you just have no idea what to, his blatancy has blown your disguise away and it becomes more baffling as the second hand moves round the clock—it has came to a point where you realise he may be fully aware of your intentions. He is taking advantage your tipsy form to play around and tease with you, but in fact you were completely sober. For all you know, he might  think you are really drunk and won’t remember what he had just mentioned. But you have to carry out and finish your act, no matter how his words are constantly forming the hesitance you have in your role.

“Then will you kill me too?” The second question comes out in a childlike tone, to prove that you are not sober at all and you pull him close and look up at him with the best soft eyes you can manage. “Not just yet doll,” He raises his hand to stroke a finger down across your pink cheek and you feel like you are shivering so hard in trepidation that you are certain he can feel it. “I want to have some fun with you first.”

You clench your guts and boldly lean into his ear, faces no more than two inches apart, “What kind of fun?”

 He chortles while snaking his hands around your waist to pull your body flushed against his, “Don’t pretend doll, you know exactly what I mean.”

 His palms creep down to the round of your ass cheeks and he gives them a harsh squeeze before growling in satisfaction into your ear. You can’t help but sigh at that, head going down to rest on his shoulder, arms stiffening. The feeling of him touching you in this manner is unexplainable—there are goosebumps forming on your skin and your heart is pounding wildly against your chest,  you feel afraid yet you didn’t want to move away from him.

 You pull away from the crook of his neck to face him properly, to show that you mean it instead of it being some drunken stupor. “Then play with me.” You didn’t mind fucking Jimin—in fact you didn’t mind fucking a man as hot as him at all. And if sleeping with him would help you in your job, you would more than gladly do it willingly. Your plan now is to fuck him till he passes out to sleep, then collect whatever you need to in his sketchy apartment.

Jimin fights the urge to kiss you there and then, in front of his doorstep and drive you crazy with his tongue, to taste all of you and devour the plenty amount of blood you store in your body—he holds your hand and leads you to his bedroom. Your swollen lips look so good and sexy from all that nervous biting you have been doing ever since dinner, he wonders how it would feel around his cock, god, he would do anything to have those pair of red cock-sucking lips around his dick.

The heat is unbearable at this point in time, and unexpectedly when the door shuts with a click, Jimin leans in to peck you on the lips but you shove him away and onto his bed. He bounces on his mattress and his fringe falls over his forehead, but his eyes never leaves yours and is filled with an unadulterated desire to shove his dick into you. 

He is shocked by your actions, even after he had practically confessed that he is indeed a cold-blooded murderer.

You start unbuttoning your beige blouse and threw it over your shoulder, leaving him with the view of your breasts covered with the black lace of your bra. 

He cocks an eyebrow up at that, his dick throbbing at the sight of your shedding your clothes off in front of him. You are only left in your lingerie when you waltz your way over to Jimin, while he is still diligently keeping his eyes trained on you.

 Straddling him, you rest your core over his crotch and the tip of his dick hitting your clit caused a moan to leave your lips involuntarily. It must have been the alcohol in your system, but you swore Jimin’s eyes turned red for shorter than a split second, before he is grabbing you firmly by the hips, securing you in place. Your arms habitually fly up to wrap around his neck like you would do with any other guy, but this was Park Jimin, the guy who caused Kyujin’s body to end up in the way it was—nothing left but dried flesh and bones—thus you felt like your were about to throw up. You try to shake off the fragments of memories of her lying corpse and instead focus on the man below you.

You were determined to make Jimin come at least twice tonight, for it should be enough to tire him out. You meld your lips with his with a sense of urgency, roll your tongue inside his mouth licking the behind of his teeth. Maybe it was because you kept thinking about dead bodies and what a bloody murderer he was, but there was a small taste of blood somewhere along his teeth. Maybe he had gum issues or something, but you quickly swipe that irrelevant thought away.

Oh well, he deserves it anyway.

Cheekily, you catch his wet muscle between your lips and start sucking harshly. Jimin keeps moaning into your mouth and pulling at your shorts with want as you have his tongue around your lips. When you place your hands on his firm chest and slowly pull away from exploring his mouth, he lets out a soft whine. The sounds he made were making your walls clench and your arousal soaking your underwear, you were about to lose it at how vocal he was.

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of his belt unbuckling. “God, you’re driving me crazy. You really want that dick, huh?”

He has barely even recovered from the messy making out and you were already on your knees in the next split second for him. All for him. He didn’t even have to ask. Something about your submissiveness and the will to give and provide to every one of his needs was building the burning pit of desire in him for you rapidly.

“Hands behind your back.” You had very much wanted to roll your eyes at his command, but you can’t help but hold back a chuckle at the thought of how you were going to do the same to him in the future—except with a handcuff.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin narrows his eyes at your giggly form, not liking the sight of you not taking him seriously at all. You shake your head shrugging him off and licked your lips as you keep your eyes trained on the tent in his pants. Jimin took your silence as consent and proceeds to undo his pants fully.

 “Last chance. If you’re not explaining yourself…” He swiftly removes the belt and allow his pants to drop to the ground with a thud. 

One of his brows are raised and the corner of his lips is crooked upwards in a sinister way.

 You gulped. 

“Then you’re in for a punishment, babydoll.” He doesn’t say anything for a brief moment, as if to let you speak, but you chose to rile him up. “Do your worst.”

As soon as those words leave your lips, he looks up to the ceiling with hands on his hips to fully digest what you had just told him. Combing his hair back with one hand, the other still gripping tightly onto the leather belt. Jimin starts smiling unbelievably like a total maniac to himself, like he could not believe what you had just said.

He lowers and grabs you roughly by the hips, flipping your kneeling form effortlessly with a great amount of force and then he pushes you onto the floor by the back without warning, causing you to land harshly on your elbows.

 A redundant ‘ouch’ was about to escape from your mouth but you immediately take it back in, for you knew a sadist like him got off from the pain he inflicted on others—and you weren’t about to show him that so easily. 

You hate to admit it, but his roughness was turning you on even more. You can hear him snicker from behind and the following sound of his belt loudly slapping the ground sends a shiver down your spine.

“My best, you mean.” His tone is filled with venom and a strong disagreement to your earlier statement. In the next moment, his belt is coming down to ruthlessly whip your ass. Your face is scrunched up in bearing the pain, and you want to scream at the burning sensation at your ass. Tears start to prick at your eyes and you bite your lips to prepare yourself at least, mentally for the next stroke. You were the one who asked for this.

“For your info,“ He strokes his palm over the curve of your ass. "I am best at punishing people, Y/N.” He laughs in a condescending tone and you feel the beads of hot tears rolling down your cheeks, out of fear or pain, you couldn’t care at the moment. Your heart is thumping violently against your ribcage so hard that your bones may break. 

“Someone’s afraid. Because her supposed best friend in her ear is long gone.”

You freeze in place, despite how badly you wanted to collapse there and then due to the aftermath of the whipping.

You were an idiot. Jimin is long ago aware of your identity and true intentions. You suspect that he knew everything, even before the both of you had met. Explains his well-built confidence since the very start. Everything was already under his control even before  you had budged an inch in your plan.  It was true and he was right, that the connection had been broken off upon entering his doorstep.

He closes the proximity between the both of you, hot breath aimed at your neck causing your hair to stand. His tongue darts out, as if to tease himself and test how far he could control from devouring you there and then. His wet muscle licks a stripe up your neck and all the hair on your skin stands tall, the goosebumps becoming more obvious when he nibbles lightly at your collarbone, the action itself effortlessly making you want to puke and mewl in pleasure at the same time. You were afraid that he would take your life away just like that, but the ache creeping into your center is saying otherwise.

It seems like the initial plan of controlling himself failed terribly, for he leans closer to you and rests his hands on your arched back. His breathing gradually turns ragged as he continues to suck hard at the soft skin of the crook of your neck, the only thin barrier separating him from the tempting vein prodding at that exact spot.

“Maybe I should have you all to myself…” His voice is now an octave lower, drenched in nothing but lust and thirst. Not only was Jimin a gruesome murderer, he also seemed like a psychopath sniffing at your neck obsessively. Like a possessive killer. But no one would ever know that their lovely elite student could be capable of such horrendous things. Not if you manage to make it out at all. Given the current situation, you think you would barely be able to rise before he does. Your knees are hurting on the cold floor and your fingers are relentlessly scratching the tiles.

His hand travels up along your body to the side of your neck, fingers coming to wrap around it and tilt your head at an angle. He dives in once more and continues sucking at that certain spot, mixed with kisses and ticklish licks. But god, you enjoyed it more than you must admit. You were a sucker for neck kisses and he played right into that card.

Screwing your eyes shut, you try to avoid the sensation he was providing you with, it felt impossibly good and the feeling of his lips attached to your neck sucks the last morality you have left in you and spits it out like used gum. Your hands are clasped together so tightly as you try your best to suppress the moan that wants to escape from your bitten down lips so bad.

You didn’t want him, but at the same time—you needed him so bad.

Jimin doesn’t remove his lips from your skin, not sparing any moment of him not kissing any part of you, it was almost as if he was worshipping your body—before ripping it into pieces like a rag doll. His hand comes up to massage your breasts through the fine lace, travelling down your waist and squeezing your ass occasionally, you could feel him everywhere.

However, he doesn’t slip you out of your underwear and fuck you senseless, he simply carries on caressing your sides and sucking on your neck.

The pool of heat forming down there is getting beyond uncomfortable and your walls are clenching pathetically hard around nothing, you needed to feel the burning stretch and the friction against your walls so bad. And that is exactly what Jimin wanted out of you from riling you up this way without progressing.

He breaks away from you finally, and looks you in the eye expectantly. You gulped, breathless.

Your fingers placed behind you play with each other nervously, before you are quietly letting out, “P-Please…”

He frowns and you swear your heart stops beating for a second.

“Use your words. What do you want me to do?”

“Please fuck me, Jimin.”

He smirks, as if your words were the correct answer. Better to get this whole ordeal done and over with, than to struggle to keep up with his concept of inducing pain with pleasure.The sound of his name flowing out of your lips is like music to his ears and the way your words twist explicitly while managing to drip like honey sends his cock twitching. He chuckles and stands back up next, and you must think it is because of how submissive you were acting to his commands but in fact it is how your inner detective resolve has been so easily melted away by the work of his lips and wandering hands. That you completely disregarded the purpose of you being here with him just for a good fuck.

“Let me fuck your throat first.” He is contented from how you instantly open your mouth inviting his cock in. 

He drags his boxers off him and your half-lidded eyes shoot almost wide open at the sight. His dick is curved to perfection—girthy, long and tip swelling with precum. Jimin chuckles with pride at the way you were practically drooling at him in all his glory.

He holds your chin and presses his tip slightly into your mouth. Naturally, your wicked tongue comes out to swirl all around his red swollen tip, angry and eager to ejaculate. You gladly take it all in, head moving closer to bring the whole tip of his dick into your mouth. Jimin’s hand moves to grab your jaw to keep your mouth open, some of his fingers running through your hair before he is ramming his cock into the back of your throat. 

Your eyes widened and you choke on his dick upon gag reflex, but you continue to lick the base of his shaft and suck whatever he gave. His head flies back with a loud grunt at the sensation of your lips around his cock—and how pretty you looked teary eyed with his entire dick disappeared into your mouth. Jimin begins thrusting into your mouth and you take it all like the good girl you were. He slowly strokes your hair and wipes the mascara running down your face. You look up at him and bat your lashes, knowing this is what most guys loved when receiving head. Jimin bites his lip at the sight of you innocently looking at him while his dick is hitting the back of your throat and goes at a faster pace, breath turning ragged until he finally blows his load in your throat.

For the cherry on top, you release his cock with a ‘pop sound’. Your lipstick smudged by now and your thighs unknowingly rub against each other in hopes for some sort of friction between your legs. “Mmm, you did so well doll.”

You have never experienced anyone close to Jimin before in bed, and his whole session was tiring and abusing the soul out of you—without realising, you lean into his palm as he cups your cheeks and praises you. His voice, like a lullaby and his hand feel so soft and silky against your face. He was like a walking contradiction—rough, yet gentle in every way you needed him to be, his lips plump and soft yet vicious in attacking your skin, his eyes melts into cresents but are also able also form demeaning stares—he creates the butterflies in your stomach, beautiful and endlessly fluttering with infatuation, but they can also drown and rot in the acid under his command, releasing a foul stench inside of you. A murderer, yet a saint when it comes to caring for you.

“Stay with me, doll.” He lightly taps you when he witnesses your eyes shutting close.

But helplessly, you are falling back into a much needed slumber—considering the time you woke up as well. Jimin proceeds to carry you bridal style and place you gently onto his bed. He pushes the stray strands of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead. Eyes closed, you hold onto his hand tightly. 

“Please take care of me…”

He strips his clothes off easily and dives into the crook of your neck, taking things impossibly slow and steady. Neither his kittenish licks, nor the way he whispers into your ear about how your obedience is getting him harder again by the second, is not helping the wetness between your thighs.

His dick is dripping with your saliva and his cum, and he strokes it up and down across your slit to give you a tease. You whimper at the contact, hands clawing his veiny arms.  “Beg for it, doll.”

“Please just fuck me already Jimin, I’m so wet and ready for your cock to stuff me full.”

He can’t believe the mess he has made of you, how a righteous cop who came all the way here for a sole purpose—is now naked and moaning such filth into his ears. The way his name flows out of your pretty and swollen lips—all because of how hard he had kissed you. The patches of purple trailing down from your neck to your breasts—it is all his doing as well.

Jimin lets out a satisfactory groan at your words before he is positioning himself between your folds, entering you at one go. His dick is shoved all the way to the hilt, the stretch feels a little painful but the pleasure is overpowering. 

“Ngh—!” Your arms are hung loosely around his neck as Jimin bites down on his bottom lip and focuses on fucking you. Hard, deep and slow. 

Jimin lifts your and throws it around his back, and he begins ramming into your pussy once you are adjusted to his size, making sure the throaty screams never stopped leaving your mouth. 

He was precise with each of his thrusts into you, making sure his tip would always slam hard onto that one sweet spot. Eyes rolling back, you feel the coil in your stomach tightening as the sturdy bed rocks back and forth with how hard Jimin is snapping his hips into you. 

“Fuck baby,” He breathes into your ear, “Y-You feel so tight—fuck, keep clenching around my cock like that.” His length slides in and out of your walls repetitively and you bask in the immense pleasure of him fucking you just so right. Jimin is a giver, that is for sure. He makes sure that you climaxed before he did, drilling into your pussy till you are screaming his name and whimpering at the oversensitivity as he keeps going. 

"Ah, ah, ah!” You fist at his hair as a silent plea to slow down. “Jimin, I can’t…” You had barely calmed down from your high and the feeling is too much to bear.

Unlike at first, his hand comes up to slap onto your mouth to keep your whining down.

 "Mmm—!“ 

He has total control over your body, dick still shoving into your soaked core with all your juices squelching and drooling out of your heat. Jimin is unable to control himself as the scent of your blood is flushing into his nose. His fangs appear and disappear as he tries to stop his temptations of sinking his teeth into one of your bruises and draining you dry. With a couple more steady and quick thrusts, Jimin is painting white ribbons of his cum onto your walls, filling you up full with his hot seed.

He sighs in content as you both reach your highs together (second for you) and slowly descends from the temporary heaven.

He collapses onto your weak body, breathing not slowing down in any way.

"Y/N…Baby,” He pants, hand searching for yours. He raises his head with all the strength left in him to look you straight in the eye. His features are crumpled, skin as white as sheet with crusty pale lip—but the ferocity in his gaze is never lost. His forehead is threatening to knock onto yours as Jimin is spinning in his own head, beginning to lose consciousness. You smack both sides of his cheeks, trying his hold his head in place. He looks like he is about to pass out anytime at the moment, still trying to gasp for air. “Jimin! Are you okay? What’s wrong?!” He couldn’t just die on you like that—then you would have to bring him to a hospital and explain everything which is just, tiresome just at the thought of it. Sure, he did deliver you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever experienced, but you needed him alive to personally throw him into prison and for that to happen, your plan needs to work out.

“I just need… a bit.” He breathes out weakly whilst looking at you with hooded eyes, admiring your flushed cheeks and tainted body. “A bit of what?” You ask immediately, anxious.  

Without another word, he dives into the crook of your neck. Jimin presses his lips against your soft skin and harshly bites down onto it with his fangs. 

Squealing, you try shove him away from you as you feel the sharp canine teeth piercing through your neck without warning. He grabs both your frantic hands and pins them down onto the mattress, as you feel your head getting lighter by the second. 

The pain becomes excruciating as Jimin withdraws from you, and you feel a drizzle of blood oozing out of your neck and trickling down onto your collarbones. His skin is gaining colour again and there is traces of your blood found at the corner of his lips. 

He swipes his tongue out to lick his lips clean and you chastised yourself for thinking—god, how undeniably sexy he looked even when he had just consumed a portion of your blood. You should feel creeped out and frightened, yes, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his dick inside of you and how horrifyingly good-looking he was. 

 A moment of unconsciousness is fighting your will to stay alive, and your mind had no space for thoughts of what and why Jimin had done that to you—you put all your might into surviving this ordeal first.

Jimin returns to your neck and you flinch, thinking he was about to bite you again, but instead he lays a kiss to the inflicted wound and caressed the side of your face endearingly—and somehow the gestures made you feel a lot better.

“Don’t go anywhere, doll. You will stay with me…” The last part of the sentence comes out softer than he expected, and he convinces himself that it was solely due to his fatigue and nothing else. Nothing like developing a tiny soft spot in his withered heart for you. Nope, not that case at all.

You closed your eyes and pretend to fall asleep with a countless amount of thoughts gathering in your head and Jimin follows suit.

Jimin wasn’t angry at you for falling asleep after sucking him dry, he looks rather worried—and that itself scares you. Murderers don’t care about the wellbeing of others. They are capable of killing people heartlessly, and the fact that he has exposed so much to you, knowing who you truly were—baffles you. He shouldn’t be worried. Or feeling anywhere near that.

You don’t know when or how, but all you could see is darkness as you match the rhythm of his breathing with yours, and the weight of his body on you feels more comfortable than it should have been.

You ruffle among the sheets till you realise there are a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, restricting your movements to minimal. All you see is a flood of black quilt and the lights are dimmed to a dark shade of red, giving off an overwhelming sensual vibe to the whole bedroom—causing your buds to harden and a tingling, sore sensation to creep in between your legs.

Jimin lays bare beside you, nothing but an underwear on just like you. This then, he pulls you closer, face tucked into your hair and neck, inhaling the scent every inch of your skin gives off.

“Mmm,” He hums in his sleep and nuzzles his nose against your jaw.

Carefully, you wriggle out of his grasp (with much effort) and replace yourself with a bolster.

Your feet cautiously land on the floor and silently, you put on your clothes before you start making your way around the house.

You randomly enter another room that looked like his study, and begin going through the drawers below his desk and the bookshelves that decorated the walls, collecting the files and documents you think is important to your investigation.

You were as quiet as a mouse, moving around the room like a ninja despite how exhausted your limbs were. You proceeded to check his large computer sitting on his table, attempting to hack into the system and transfer all the data he stored in there.

Surely, there would beat least some information on Kyujin or anything that can be a lead to this investigation. You managed to enter his account in less than a minute, and you silently thank Seokjin for teaching you his tips and tricks with computers. 

Immediately, you spot a file at the bottom of his desktop with the name “BLOOD BANK #13” and you hastily click on it.

An image of Kyujin smiling popped up, along with many other background information of her profile. Your fingers jerk in surprise on the mouse as you gasp in shock. You scrolled through the file and more and more, and more pictures of her appeared—everyday, doing different things, in the same janitor uniform in the campus. Next, there was an audio recording and you pressed play.

“AH!” A scream erupted from the speaker and you quickly slid the volume lower in panic. “Please…please Jimin.. Don’t kill me, don’t—!”

The begging is followed by a squeal and a series of blood squelching—like a bear feasting on his last scrumptious meal before winter and choked whimpers—like she was screaming for every last bit of her breath.

The next sound you hear is a loud thud, something like a hitting the back of her skull before you figure she collapses onto the ground, dead.

It was too good to be true. The solid evidence right in front of your eyes.

Jimin.

You suddenly remember, that he was right across the hallway and your palms started to sweat in terror. Hands shaking, you fish out a thumb drive to transfer the file and the moment you plug it in—the computer’s system dies and flashes nothing but black, making you stare at your own flustered state. What was strange is that there were two pair of eyes looking at your reflection.

A low voice suddenly echoes throughout your ear and the hairs on your neck stand in unison—and you realise, it came from behind you.  

“I told you to not go anywhere,” His lips bump into the shell of your ear. 

“My pretty, little doll.”

in the dark (m)

☾ Rating: M

☾ Genre: pwp, smut, slight crack, very minimal scary times.

☾ Pairing: jikook x female reader (kinda, read the warnings).

☾ Warnings: explicit sexual content, threesome, light male x male action (kissing, their peepees touch but only because of), double vaginal penetration,  oral (female receiving), casual sex, unprotected sex, they fuck in jungkook’s truck, maybe a slight noona kink? sorry.

☾ Summary: “I can’t get a signal on my phone, the car is dead, and I’m fairly certain we are out of matches.”

Jungkook and Jimin have a very short attention span, and when you three are lost in the middle of nowhere with a truck that won’t drive, they busy themselves with you.

☾ Word Count: 6.1k

☾ Note: Here’s another exciting project done for Halloween Smut Fest, hosted by the wonderful admins of @/btssmutclub! I hope you love this little Halloween treat as much as I loved writing it, and if you want more deliciously spooky smut, please check out the club and all it’s wonderful writers!

Another note: I was supposed to post this on Halloween but ya girl was shleep! Anyway, this story was really fun to write considering it’s my first attempt at writing threesome smut! I really hope you all enjoy, and feel free to send me an ask if you liked it personally! (wink)

Another ‘NOTHER note: the “Read More” function is in here so don’t flame me.

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