IM SO DONE WITH YHIS OKAY

IM SO DONE WITH YHIS OKAY

DONE

this was so sad I don't recommend it at all because all I did was crying and when I was happy I got that RIPPED OUT OF ME (ofc I recommend im being dramatic who knows/

but yeah. it hurts. it hurts so good and taehyung is definitely,,,,,,,,ugh yeah I'd say "not him" but this is so a boy attitude that maybe, maybe this reminded me so much the hyyh era tae because he truly acts like an adolescent here. yeah. I pictured this. it hurts. not comfort, not a happy ending and oh god the angst is so good!!!!!!!! TYSM for writing the tears out of me, i loved that masochist stuff and all

ps: I'd totally make the blind one and forgive him so i do NOT relate to yns behavior here yet I'd do it with like 17 and not 21 as I am right now so I'm sorry for not being mature around a beautiful man

right amount of wrongs | kth (m)

Summary: “Your heartbeat stopped. Then accelerated. Pain shot through the organ like an arrow. And then everything repeated.”

How many times does he have to do you wrong until you make the right decision?

pairing: Taehyung x female reader (+ slight Hoseok x female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: high school!au (everyone’s of age tho! senior year <3), best friends to lovers; angst, fluff, smut

warnings: taehyung is… questionable in this :] mention of disney movies (you decide which ones lol), unrequited love, heartbreak, jealousy, manipulation, crying, rejection, toxic friendship later on, oc throws up (no detailed description), (hints of a) panic attack; explicit sexual content: loss of virginity (oc), soft dom!tae, sub!reader soft manhandling, he’s really gentle with her but ughhh he’s such an ass too, big dick!tae, protected sex, multiple orgasms, handjob, fingering, oral (f. receiving), marking, praising, breast play, clit pinching (??), yeah that should be all

word count: 15.9k

a/n: i actually decided to write this randomly to let out some frustration since it’s a pretty personal fic :’) i hope you guys enjoy reading it! <3

credits: my lovely betas​​​ @hantaev​​​​​​ & @chateautae​​​​​​ thank you so so much for helping me with this !! <3 @missgeniality​​​ thank you for lending me your beautiful name hehe :D and last but not least, thank you to @kimtaehyunq​​​​​ who made this AMAZING AND FLAWLESS banner, gave me a really helpful suggestion for this fic and read through it before i posted it, tyyy !! <3

➳ listen to: 17 by Pink Sweat$ | Never not by Lauv | Give me love & Kiss me by Ed Sheeran | I’m not the only one by Sam Smith

MASTERLIST | WIPs

Kim Taehyung.

High school student, approaching the end of senior year at the tender age of nineteen.

Horrible at math. Adored dancing more than anything. Insecure at times but loved to rap in his free time to entertain his closest friends. Always studied just a bit, putting minimal efforts into all subjects despite having failed a class once already. Now, he still hadn’t changed but passed anyway.

Kim Taehyung. Relied on you too much, cherished and admired you endlessly - he’d more or less been your best friend for years and years, both of you being the type of close pals who people thought might cross the line one day, at some point for sure.

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idiots - min yoongi x reader

genre/tags: the most disgusting of fluff, seriously, slight hint of angst but really, mostly just fluff; friends to lovers, reader has never been in a relationship, first time kiss, reader has a crush on yoongi, lots of awkwardness

pairing: min yoongi/reader

word count: 2,8k

you can also read it on AO3

a/n: okay so, I had a VERY long break from writing and this is the first thing I actually finished since then so it’s definitely not the best. And definitely cliché lol. (It was literally supposed to be a really short drabble to get me out of the writer’s block but oh well, somehow it became almost 3 words - I blame yoongi for this honestly, lately he just looks to good not to write stories about him). So yeah, hope you enjoy 😅

“So you’re telling me that you’ve literally never even kissed anyone?” he asked, repositioning himself on the sofa, turning his face into your direction, a slightly shocked expression decorating his features.

“Hey, it’s not like it’s my fault! And I did not tell you this, just so you could judge me, you promised you wouldn’t do that!” you answered his question, a mix of anger and embarrassment visible on your face as you avoided his gaze.

You certainly didn’t expect your evening to take this turn. It started pretty innocently, just as many other evenings before that. You two would hang out, order a takeaway and pretend to watch a movie, when in fact, you always ended up talking about everything that has happened in your lives since your last meeting, totally not paying attention to what was happening on the screen. These evenings became some sort of little tradition for either of you, as well as an important part of your friendship. You especially enjoyed them, because Yoongi, despite his sarcastic and grumpy demeanour, was the best friends you’ve ever had. Many would say that it’s a bit of an overstatement, considering your friendship haven’t lasted very long, but you didn’t remember the last time you’ve felt that comfortable with someone.

You trusted him with all your problems… well, almost all of them. There was only one issue, that you absolutely couldn’t tell him.

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bad word | kth drabble

⇢ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; one of the kids in your class curses and you make it your responsibility to break it to her dad, luckily you know him better than your co-workers

⇢ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, smut, dilf!taehyung

⇢ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: protected sex, explicit language, age gap; taehyung is 35 and reader is 28 (although their age is not mentioned in the story, just the age difference of 7 years), mentions of smut, slight biting

⇢ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.4k+

𝒂/𝒏: commissioned anonymously! this was supposed to be 4k but here we go again, another proof that it’s a challenge for me to write something short haha

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | ☕️ | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

“You’re doing amazing, Jihoon.” you praise the little boy, patting the top of his head as you glance at his coloring book. The coloring is a little bit off, actually a lot, but you can’t really tell him that, can you? He seems to be encouraged by your praise, your heart beaming when he looks up at you and gives you a grin, his two front teeth missing.

You praise other kids at the table, somehow content how silent the room is. Well, apart from the occasional squeals, laughs and toys crashing down the floor every few seconds, but that’s just something you got used to very quickly. Now it’s just a noise you can listen to without having the need to go somewhere quiet. However, headaches make an occasional appearance once you get back home, the place empty from all the kids noises and their presence. You can’t say you hate it though, you actually miss them a lot.

You wouldn’t do this job if you didn’t like kids. And these particular amazing and cute kids that you get to see five days a week somehow sneaked their way into your heart, so you easily have grown attached to them. You could not see them for one week and feel like they’ve grown too quickly. Not for nothing people say you can see the real time passing by on kids. It’s true.

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well THAT was amazing

not tonight | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Two people trying to find their hearts.

warnings: language, est. relationship, questioning life, there's sex but it's more about feels; Yoongi’s POV; lyrics are from 'more than life' by machine gun kelly ft. glaive, fits the story, doesn't it? 2k drabble

-

damn, I can't wake up happy I just took a knife to the strings that attach me

“How many people do you think would care if I died?”

“At least one.”

She stared at him.

He smiled back, humorless. “I only know about me, after all.”

“You’re a dork.”

Humor crept into his smile, saying nothing. She tried to turn her head away but he reached up and placed a finger on her chin, pushing it back towards him. Her narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow greeted him in return.

“My opinion is the only one that matters.”

She scrunched up her face, taking a moment to consider it. A half-sigh and a shrug, relenting to his words. “Quality, not quantity, huh?”

“An important distinction when it comes to opinions, not orgasms. You need both.”

And then she laughed, breaking out of his hold, but that was the goal, his smile becoming a smirk, watching her shake her head and lean back, her hair spilled over his pillows, stark contrast to the usual emptiness. His choice. He hated fake people. Most people were fake and shit at sex.

Yeah, most people weren’t worth the ten minutes of mediocrity.

He asked the question.

“Nightmares?”

Expectedly and unfortunately, her laughter died. “I wouldn’t call them that. Or maybe I’m desensitized and don’t feel anything unless it’s really fucked up.”

“You definitely feel something. I’m really fucked up.”

Her lips curved into a wry smile. “Mmm, is that so?”

“You’ve heard my mixtapes.”

“Is this a dick swinging contest on who is more fucked up?”

“Pretty sure mine is bigger than yours on the sheer basis that you don’t have a dick, but feel free to prove me wrong. I’m flexible.”

“You’re annoying is what you are.”

“Attacking character is the laziest form of insult and therefore negligible.”

“It’s only an attack of you think it’s true. Otherwise, it’s just funny.”

It was strangely easy, almost carefree. Words parried back and forth, dancing around reality.

He smiled. “I’m dying laughing here. Do you care?”

The side of her lips curved upwards.

He used to think everyone was fake, but at least one wasn’t, even though she was trying very hard to be, all so that she could feel some semblance of real.

“Immensely,” was her reply.

She rolled towards him, bringing her heat and lips to his.

He felt it sometimes. It simply hung in the air. A kind of burning restlessness that lived in her energy when she had bad dreams. It would persist all day and late into the night. She would avoid sleeping, presumably to avoid the dreams. The context of them didn’t really matter – or perhaps it did, but he was no dream analyst or crackhead psychic – all that mattered was that she had them and they would keep her wide awake even when she was dead asleep.

He knew the feeling.

Probably not the exact feeling but there was a reason that he had dark circles.

He could taste it on her lips, on her tongue, trying to be innocent but she didn’t know the meaning of the word and neither did he, because soon her body was pressed against his and his arms were gliding around that waist, fingers of one hand dancing up her spine, the other sliding down to grab a handful of her plump ass.

Everyone wanted to feel special.

She wanted to especially feel nothing, which meant she felt everything.

Her hands slipped into his long hair, her fingernails sliding over his scalp.

Most people tried to avoid pain. Most people. She made it a point to sleep with him, because most people thought he was the definition of pain. They thought. He made sure that she never felt malice from him. She never expected him to be that way, so he was. From bracing herself for the pain to slipping into his arms to avoid the bad dreams that reminded her she still had demons. She told him, I can’t be what you want me to be. He told her, I don’t want you to be anything but you. She never promised she would give him forever and a day, so he gave it to her instead. At least, as much of forever as he could. It wasn’t like his dead body would know forever was over.

She loved him, raw and fierce.

He could feel it in her touch and in the way she faked it and pretended to be okay when she wasn’t.

“Yoongi…”

She murmured his name, dreamlike, and so he became the dream, chasing all the bad ones away by keeping her up, breathing her name into her skin, a promise to never break her heart, not that it mattered. It was broken already. It came that way. Maybe even before she knew she had a heart. He liked to say he didn’t have a heart, but they were both liars.

One broken, cannot feel.

One heartless, hiding it deep within.

Maybe that’s why it worked.

He turned them over, just to see her hair on his pillows again, nipping at her lower lip, listening to her sound. A soft breath, not one of those pathetic guess-this-is-what-men-want fake moans. He hated that shit. He believed it was lazy and, sure, maybe that kind of thinking was childish, but he could spot a liar when he saw one because he had seen many and been one himself. He was sick of those pretending simply to impress him, simply because they wanted something from him, simply waiting to use him to feed their own egos.

Never for a second did he question her intentions.

He grabbed her wrist and she fought back, twisting her arm and locking their fingers, reflecting his open-mouthed smug smirk. She remembered the things he liked. The playful dance, her body rising to meet his, skin-to-skin, her lips grazing his jaw, kisses down his neck, and he remembered the things she liked too, his head turning and warm breath against her cheek, letting his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“If you’re dead, we can’t fuck.”

Her other hand was trailing up his side. She squeezed their interlocked fingers.

“Heh, guess that’s true. Who’s gonna fuck you as well as I do?”

“Nobody and that’s the problem.”

He hated people because they hurt him for some reason or another, thinking he had a hard enough heart to feel nothing, but instead they craved scars into the hollow, nothing there to brace them, and then she came into his life, broken heart and all, the words on the tip of her tongue, who are you?

And he found, for the first time, that he wanted to know the answer too.

He pressed their interlocked fingers into the bed, kissing her long and deep, her hair spilled over his pillows. He had spent so long hiding his heart that even he had no idea where it was anymore. She said to him that she didn’t care, that she was sick of caring, that she was tired and broken and there wasn’t much left, but there was a little. Just a little. Might as well. She pressed him on top of her, crushing her body with his weight, and he kept it off her, distracting her with his mouth, devouring her nightmares or bad dreams or whatever-the-fuck-they-were with his possessive tongue, her shudder coursing through him too, sound morphing into adrenaline that ignited his blood.

She held onto him.

He wasn’t made to be held.

Or was that something that was craved into him by the scars caused by others?

Her fingers traced his back, her thigh sliding between his, the other tracing the outside of his hip.

“Yoongi…”

He hated it when people said his name, because everyone was fake, but he loved it when she said his name, because she wasn’t everyone. She was his and that was more than everyone else did for him. He placed his lips on her throat and her legs locked around his thigh, preventing him from moving too far down.

He sucked on her skin and felt her moan vibrate his lips. Her fingers tangled in his long hair, tugging in it, leaving strands of black over his vision. Her nails dragged down his back while he marked her throat with his teeth. Bodies interlocked, pain into pleasure, neither one letting go.

He told her before that his heart was an empty hole full of scars.

She climbed down into the darkness and traced them with her fingertips.

He didn’t talk about them, not really. The past was the past. But she knew they were there and she was mindful of them. He warned her of the dark with in. She said she liked the dark. It meant she couldn’t see how broken hers was. She stayed with him, even though he fell into familiar patterns, catching him before the train of thought could wreck him. She recognized those patterns and she caught him, giving him that moment of recognition as well so that he too could see them.

Yoongi hoped one day he could tell her how grateful he was for that.

He found himself wondering where his heart was, now and again, until one day he realized it was standing right there the whole time, in the dark, surrounded by scars in his hollow, fingertips mindful of all those that hurt him before.

He held her broken heart together and they shared it.

His hands were in her hair now, spreading it over his pillows, filling the usual emptiness of his bed with her presence.

She rubbed her thigh in between his legs and he sucked in a breath, surfacing from his bite, coming back up to kiss her again, making his breath disappear and giving it to her instead. Emptying his lungs, every wisp of air pushed out, and she took it all away, breathing him in so that he was lightheaded while her smooth skin rubbed against his hardening length, her fingertips fanning over his hip.

Who are you?

She had asked him then and he had smirked and replied with his name, but her eyes weren’t satisfied with his answer, watching him, who are you, and, for some reason, he himself thought, who am I, in the middle of their lips touching and their bodies talking. I don’t want to care about anything, and he said, me neither, and they didn’t want to but they did anyway, already. Bodies can only speak truth and they were already tangled in each other’s legs, staring into each other’s eyes.

He told her he was full of dead dreams and hollow scars.

She told him she wasn’t made quite right and everything came broken.

He locked his fingers with hers, right beside the remains of the condom packaging and slid into her wet, tight heat, staring into her eyes, knowing who he was.

Yours.

She never promised she would give him forever and a day, but she promised never to lie and her body told him she was his. The way she raised her hips and rammed back into him, the way she clenched her core and her jaw, grinning at his gasp, the way she met his pace and escalated it, faster, harder, rougher, wilder, thin breath and chasing pleasure, the world becoming nothing but them and this moment.

Who are you?

The one who chose to love you.

She didn’t ask him to, but he didn’t really care either. He didn’t ask her to love him, but she did, even though she said she couldn’t, even though she came broken, even though she doubted her ability to love, but she didn’t know that the simple act of tracing his scars and being mindful of each and every one was enough. Everyone else saw the hollow and thought it was the abyss, thought he had nothing to give, and he hadn’t even realized that he, too, had begun to believe he had nothing to give.

Nothing but scars and darkness.

But she liked scars and darkness, and she stayed.

not today, not tomorrow, not tonight, I don't wanna die.

-

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

yoongi is so cute in this :( i adore nerdy unnoticed guys who turn out to be pretty behind glass lenses and big books (because i am also one of them hehe) and the way he turned out to be a confident man, charming and amazed by oc's whole being is a great table turn, even if he's still a nerdy boy inside. the sweet way they mingled, the light tension before the kiss and their obvious maturity were brilliant. thank you for writing!

High School Reunion - MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Blurb: Ten years later…second chance? Genre: Fluff, High School Reunion, 

Rating: PG15

Word Count: ~6k

Warning: Language and some kissing.

a/n: reworking of an old fic for an old fandom. mostly because i love the idea of reuniting as adults. hope you like!

for previews and outtakes, you can support me on Ko-Fi. Thank you!

High School Reunion

~Present~

“Why can’t you ever wear something…sexy?”

You look up from smoothing down your blouse nervously to your best friend, Bona. The other woman is dressed in red, which doesn’t surprise anyone. A short, fitted dress with flared skirt that managed to make Bona look both hot and girly at once.

“This is sexy,” you reply stubbornly, gesturing to your blue one-shouldered top.

“But…pants,” Bona pouts at the black slacks you wore. 

“Heels,” you defend, pointing to your shoes.

Bona huffs and walks up behind you and takes your hair in hand. “We could put your hair up.”

“This is it,” you state calmly, trying not to smirk at your friend’s dramatics. “It’s supposed to be fun. It won’t be fun if you make me look like someone else.”

Bona makes a face at you through the mirror and walks to the bathroom to continue doing her makeup.

You take stock of the woman looking back at you in the mirror. Twenty-eight years old. A cop, and hopefully soon to be homicide detective when your masters in criminal justice is finished. Who would have thought the girl from the system who had robbed more than her fair share of convenience stores as a minor would be representing Johnny Law on a daily basis?

“I don’t know about this.”

Bona poked her head out of the bathroom. “We are going. Don’t you want to see all those popular people fat and balding?”

High school reunion. 

“It’s only been ten years.” 

“I bet you anything the quarterback or something is balding. What was even his name?” Bona swiped on mascara with the ease of a pro.

You shrug. You have no idea. It hadn’t been a small school, almost 3000 students for the ninth through twelfth grades and except for the occasional passing of the joint under the bleachers at pep rallies and football games, you had barely known there was a football team.

“Who are you looking forward to seeing?” You ask, tucking your hair behind your ears and moving to find your clutch purse for the evening.

“Hoseok.”

Stupid question. Of course that’s who Bona wants to see. Despite Facebook and various other social networking platforms, Bona’s high school crush, Jung Hoseok, is impossible to find. 

Bona steps out of the bathroom. “How do I look?”

The amused smile that always touches your lips in regards to Bona immediately responds. “Perfect.”

Bona moved to grab her things from her bedroom before yelling from down the hall. “And who are you looking forward to seeing?”

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they are SO in love i am SO SAD oh my goodness 😭😭😭😭

can't wait to see where this leads!

maybe i do | kth. III

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 17k (im sorry omg)

➵ warnings : oh boi we have aNgSt, serious familial issues, swearing, multiple fight scenes, mainly verbal but there is a slap in one, mentions of a wound, mentions of alcohol, (there’s honestly a lot that goes wrong in this chapter but at least tae and the reader have each other), sexual tension :o, bit of possessive!tae, (i mention a short reader a lot but i just wanted to say you’re beautiful even if you’re tall! tae is just very tall to me askldjs)  

➵ a/n: i’m back and hoLY is this chapter loaded (and a lil unedited forgive me!!) i’ve finally finished school and get a whole month off now! who knows what works i’ll release in that time 👀. as always, feedback is appreciated loves!

chapter three : “the window opened one time with you and me”

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  ||  masterlist

“Mother?” You stood frozen, completely and utterly shocked as to how your mother was just opposite of you, smiling brightly as if she hadn’t done a single thing wrong in her life and loved you unconditionally.

How incredibly wrong that was. 

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