Sooooo I Needed A Couple Of Days Before I Was Ready But... I Think I Am. Lol. But, Im Going To Put It

Sooooo I needed a couple of days before I was ready but... I think I am. lol. But, I’m going to put it under the read more because... S P O I L E R S, duh!

This story WHOOOOOOO. This was a roller coaster ride but it was so well written! When Yoongi died, I felt so bad. OMG, it hit me in the feels. It went downhill from there and I felt so bad for the reader. It’s one thing to love someone but it’s another to be completely obsessed to the point you can’t see that you’re hurting the person you’re supposedly in love with. That’s the vibe I got from Tae and the fact that he was forcing his way into the readers life AFTER he literally murdered her in front of him, he was fighting a losing battle. 

And N A M J O O N, baby... Dear god. lol. He was pissing me off during the whole story. Like would you just SHUTUP and listen. Jesus lol.

Overall though, I loved this story soooo much and I can’t wait to read the rest of your work love! <333

Poison Apple

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem Reader ; Min Yoongi x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung 

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut

Warnings: NON CON, Hard Yandere behavior, forced witness, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy, emotional abuse, violence, character death, voluntary starvation, degradation and physical abuse, manipulation, profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, and murder. 

Word count: 22.35k

I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Till it bore an apple bright.

                                                - William Blake

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading. 

This is a non-consensual setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

 Author’s note:  This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. I’ve been mulling it over in my head for years now. Please don’t come at my throat, it is non-con yandere. Enjoy!

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despite it all • park jimin

chapter one — bandaid

plot — you never could ignore someone who needs help. not even a gang member.

words — 3.1K

You were walking home from a night out with friends, the pleasant buzz of alcohol in your veins making you feel giddy and floaty as you hummed softly. The street was quiet but in the distance you could hear people laughing, sirens of an ambulance, a barking dog and it gave you a sense of security and familiarity.

What was most definitely not familiar was the man rounding a corner, and almost slamming into you. You yelp, taking a quick step backwards, heart stopping before it skyrockets. You have apparently underestimated the amount of alcohol you've had to drink because that quick step causes you to loose your balance, and unable to regain it, you fall to the ground, landing ass first.

You contemplate just sitting there until the morning but when the man you almost bumped into lets out a pained groan, your eyes flicker up to him. Horror fills you as you take in his blood stained appearance. There is blood on his shirt, his pants, his face. His one hand was holding his side and his knuckles are bloody.

You scramble to your feet, suddenly much more sober than you were two seconds ago, "Oh my God, are you okay? Ah, nevermind, stupid question. You're covered in blood, you couldn't possibly be okay. Is there someone I can call for you? Ohhh, I know, I can call an ambulance."

A hand grasps around the wrist of the hand going for the phone on the inside pocket of your jacket, fingers strong and grip tight. His voice is low and husky when he speaks, "No. No ambulance."

Trying to press down the mounting panic in your chest, you swallow thickly. "Dude, not to be stating the obvious, but you are covered in blood."

"Most of it's not even mine." He says around a cough, eyes drooping, bracing himself against the wall.

Your eyes widen when you process his words and you twist your wrist in his grip, wanting to pull away and run. You clear your throat, running your eyes over him. "Well you look like you're going to be fine, so I'll just go."

He nods tiredly, letting go of your wrist, a strand of his blonde dyed hair falling into half closed, exhausted eyes, his breathing hard, and your heart twists. You want to help him and you're about to offer, when you remember his words from just seconds ago.

Most of it's not even mine.

Which means that he probably hurt whoever's blood is on him. Which means that this is a dangerous person, the kind of person you run from, not help. Judging from the tattoo in his neck, he's in a gang. You don't know what exactly everything about the different gang tattoos and what every stripe or cross means but everyone knows that anyone with a serpent tattoo is part of the most dangerous gang in the province. Maybe even the country.

You walk past him, intent on going home and forgetting about this incident. Your try putting it out of your head as you cross streets and your small apartment comes closer, but it doesn't work. At the next street you have to cross, you look back, and see the man still bracing himself against the wall as he walks slowly. He stops, resting with his back against the wall.

You bite your lip, your heart at war with your head, torn between doing the right thing and the safe thing. You look at the man again – gang member or no, he's still a person who needs help – and your heart wins the fight.

"Fuck it." You mutter to yourself before taking of in a light jog, back to the injured man. His body tenses up, like he's preparing for a fight, and his eyes snap open when he hears you approaching, hard and cold and it terrifies you a little. It's almost enough to make you turn around again. But then recognition flashes in his eyes and his tensed shoulders relaxes. You look at him silently for a moment and then you blurt out, "Where are you hurt?"

"None of your fucking business." He breathes, moving his eyes from you to the night sky.

"Rude." You clack your tongue at him, risking a step closer. "Are you bleeding anywhere? Or is all of this blood the other guy's?"

He looked at you again, something feral and definitely dangerous glinting in his eyes. "Who says there was just one?"

Instead of fear, you can feel your annoyance rising, "Can you answer the question and stop deflecting?"

His brows furrowed, clearly confused. "What are you doing here? Weren't you on your way home or something?"

Fully annoyed now, you glare at him. "I'm trying helping you, you ungrateful ass."

Amusement flickers in his eyes, "Well you're not doing a very good job of it."

"Well, you're not making it very easy." You retort, deciding to just take matters into your own hands. You step close to him before taking his arm and bringing it around your shoulders, noticing that he winces when you lift his arm. "Let's go." You tell him, tugging gently until he starts walking in the direction he came from and where you're going.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" He asks. You glance up at him, seeing a smirk on his lips.

"I have some idea." You say, giving a pointed look to the tattoo in his neck.

"So, you know I'm in a gang." He concludes. "And that I most likely got my injuries from doing something illegal."

"Yes." You nod. "And speaking of injuries, are you bleeding?"

"Not that I know of." He answers. He wobbles a bit and you stop, waiting until he regains his footing before continuing. "And you don't care?" He asks curiously.

"Of course I care and in normal circumstances I'd probably call the police, but you're hurt and you need help, not the police. So, I'm going to help you."

"What if I'm an assassin with a thing for cutting woman into pieces?" He sounds amused, like this whole situation is a source of entertainment for him.

"Wouldn't that be a way to go." You deadpan.

He snickers and then goes quiet for a while before asking, "Are you going to call the cops?"

"Are you going to hurt me?" You ask instead of answering.

"No." He sounds like he means it but that doesn't really reassure you. "Not unless you give me a reason too." And that actually does make you feel a little better.

"Well, there you go then." You tell him.

"I should just take your word for it?" You can feel him looking at you, but you ignore his gaze, focusing on watching your step. He wasn't resting all of his weight on you, you could tell, but the added weight still slowed you down and caused strain on your muscles but you ignore it, intent on helping him.

"Considering the fact that I'm taking a stranger who is a literal gang member and a potential killer into my home, you really don't have any ground for that argument." You inform him matter-of-factly. You rewind your words and lament that maybe your are as crazy as your cousin accuses you of being.

"Your home?" He whistles, but starts coughing halfway through. "Buy a guy dinner first."

"Hah!" You scoff, ignoring the way your cheeks burn from his teasing. "I'm helping you. If anyone is going to be buying dinner, it's going to be you."

"I'm Jimin, by the way. If you're going to help me, the least I could do is tell you my name." He says, and when you look at him, he looks sincere and a little shy.

"Y/N." You tell him.

You reach your apartment without any incidents or without running into anyone – a man covered in blood would have raised questions – and you navigate it in the dark, leading him to your couch before going back to the door and locking it and flipping on the lights. You turn back to him, watching as he looks around your place. You couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. "I know it's no palace, but it's mine and you're only gonna be here for one night. Unless you plan on leaving directly after I help you."

"I like it, it feels comfortable. Like a home." Jimin tells you, face softer than its been since the moment you met him. You stare a little, but then you notice the blood on his face again and you look away.

"You should go and take a shower. I'll give you the biggest clothes I'll have, so don't worry about that. I'll wash yours and put it in the dryer, so it will be clean for when you leave. I'm pretty sure if you walk down the street with blood stained clothes in broad daylight, someone is bound to call the police." You are rambling and you're perfectly aware of it, but you're nervous.

He nods and gets to his feet, wincing. "Which way is the bathroom?"

You point, "Down the hall to your left. Do you need help?"

Jimin gives you a slight smile, "I'll manage."

You wait until you hear the shower running before you go to your room, hunting down your biggest hoodie and pair of sweatpants. You knock on the bathroom door, letting Jimin know you're leaving the clothes outside the bathroom door.

You wait on the couch for Jimin to finish, wondering what your mother would say if she could see you now.

You bite down a smile when Jimin comes out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair. The sweatpants are obviously too small, ending high above his ankles, the fabric stretching over his thighs – and if you spend an extra second looking at those muscular thighs then it was no one's business. The hoodie seemed to fit just right, but he didn't zip it up. Your eyes is glued to his chest, not because it was eye-catching – oh and it was eye-catching alright, a defined six pack was waving at you almost mockingly – but because of the bruises.

"Like what you see?" Jimin's teasing voice brings you out of your staring stupor.

"I-" You cut yourself off, suddenly choked up by emotion.

His eyes widened and he walks as quickly as he can to you. "Hey, no, no, it looks worse than it is. You should see the other guys."

"That doesn't really make me feel better, but thanks for trying." You tell him, blinking hard, and getting up from the couch. "I'm going to get my first aid box."

While in the bathroom, you toss Jimin's bloody clothes into your cleaning bucket, making a mental to wash it as soon as you're done helping him.

You walk to where he's sitting on your couch, going down on you knees so you could face him. You notice the gun laying next to him and your heart almost jumps out of your chest. You give him an unimpressed stare, "Seriously?"

He gives you a smug smirk, "It's for protection."

"From what? My bandaids?" You ask sarcastically.

"Gang member, remember?" Jimin says, like you need the reminder, and you pull a face at him.

You ignore his chuckle to inspect his face, and the first thing you notice is how attractive he is. (But that doesn't matter because you're only helping him and then he's leaving.) The second thing you notice is that there is just a few scratch marks on his face, nothing too serious. You clean it up with some antiseptic, a little impressed that he doesn't even wince.

"Okay, I need to take a look at your chest now, make sure none of your ribs are broken, so will you sit a little forward?" You ask him and Jimin does as he's asked.

"You don't seem too bothered by the presence of a gun." Jimin comments, obviously curious as you run your hands over his ribs (he tenses for the first five seconds then relaxes), pressing against it, feeling carefully.

You shrug, "My dad was a cop, and while he didn't parade his around, I got used to them nonetheless."

"Past tense." Jimin observes, eyes on your face. You can feel his gaze and it causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. "Is he dead or retired?"

Your hands falter for a moment at the blunt question. You swallow thickly, continuing your path over his ribs. "He died in the line of duty."

"What happened?" He asks.

You look him in the eye, "He got caught in the crossfire of a gang war."

"Oh." Jimin sounds like someone knocked the breath from him. Silence falls around you and it lasts until you finish your exam of Jimin's chest before he says, "I'm sorry."

You look up, "Are you really?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" He frowns at you.

"Don't say something you don't mean. I'd prefer it if you said nothing at all." You eye the bruises on his chest, wondering how people can do that to each other. "There doesn't seem to be anything broken but you definitely cracked a few of them and it's gonna hurt like a bitch, come the morning."

"How do you know all of this?" He questions.

"I'm a paramedic." You answer, reaching for his left hand, remembering that his knuckles was bloodied before the shower.

"That explains a lot." He grabs your wrist with the hand you're not holding, holding onto it almost gently. "Look, about what you said just now, you're helping me despite the fact that it could have been one of my people that killed your dad." He squeezes your wrist, looking into your eyes imploringly. "I mean it."

You shrug, tilting your head. "Yeah, well, my mom always said I can't hold a grudge to save my life."

When you're done cleaning up and bandaging his hands, you pick up the bottle of pills you brought with you. You shake out a few pills before standing to go and fetch him a glass of water. You held out the water and the pills onto him, "Here. You've got to be in a world of hurt right now."

"What is that?" He asks, eyeing the white tablets laying on your hand.

You sigh, "Just some paracetamol. It's all I have. Just because I'm a paramedic doesn't mean I keep hospital grade medicine stocked in my home."

"Four of them?" Jimin's eyebrows went up. "Are you trying to overdose me?"

You squint at him, "Don't be such a baby. I take three at a time for my headaches and I am willing to bet my right kidney that you're hurting worse than my headaches usually are."

You pack up your first aid box and when you put it away, you bring the bucket with Jimin's bloodied clothing. You filled it halfway with water and then walked to the kitchen. You empty half your salt supply into the water before using your hands to rinse the clothing.

"Why are you washing my clothes with salt?" Jimin's voice comes from behind you.

You startle for a second before taking a deep breath and answering him, "I'm not washing it, I'm rinsing it with cold water and salt, to get the blood out of your clothes."

"Seriously? That works?" Jimin asks, surprise clear in his voice.

"Yep."

"I could have saved so much money that I wasted on new clothes each time I had a bloodstain on something, if I had known that." He whines and you look over your shoulder, finding yourself strangely endeared when you see the pout his lips is pulled into.

"I'd rather not know." You snort, shaking your hands off and heading to the sink to wash them. You dry your hands, leaning against your counter as you let the clothes soak for a bit.

"You haven't asked." Jimin says out of nowhere. He was leaning against your fridge, looking exhausted, but his eyes watched you intently.

You know what he was talking about. The bruises, and where he got them, the other guys he mentioned. He had been expecting you to ask, and you never did. You cross your arms over your chest. "It's none of my business."

"It's not." He agrees.

"See." You give him a slight smile.

"Still. Most people would ask." He says, tilting his head as he looked you up and down.

"Yeah, well, I figure I'm better of going down Plausible Deniability avenue and Better Of Not Knowing street in this case."

That gets a genuine laugh out of him, his eyes scrunching and a breathtaking smile on his lips. It's bright and cheerful and your stomach swoops. You are unable to not smile back at him.

After rinsing his clothes and putting it in the washing machine, you go back to the living room, only to find Jimin fast asleep on your couch. Something inside of you goes very soft as you watch him sleep. He looks years younger, completely relaxed.

You take the step ladder from your kitchen and tiptoe back to your room, getting the extra duvet from the top of your closet. You grab one of the four pillows on your bed and you head back to the living room. Gently, you lift Jimin's head and slip the pillow underneath it, half afraid he would wake up. When he doesn't, you breathed a quiet sigh of relief and throw the blanket over him. As you tuck him in, you spot the handle of his gun, pressed into the back of the couch.

You hope the safety is on.

***

When you wake up the next morning, Jimin is gone.

Placed on top of the pillow and folded duvet stacked on your couch, is a piece of paper with writing on.

Y/N,

I put your clothes in the washing machine after getting dressed, so you just have to dry it. I figured it was the least I could do after all the trouble I gave you.

I mean what I said last night, I really am sorry about your dad.

If you ever need my help, doesn't matter if it's something dumb like a lift somewhere or something a little more serious like taking someone out for you, you can find me at the bar on 17th Street. Chances are, I'll be there. If not, ask for Taehyung and tell him Jimin sent you.

Thank you for everything.

- Jimin -

P.S. I hope I see you again someday.

***

chapter 2

A/N: this is going to be a multi-chapter/part story. I don't know how many yet, just that there will be more!! Also, I am not a medical professional, so just go with the medical inconsistencies. I promise they won't be too far fetched.

good for you || Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Summary: Jimin can’t help the way he drowns himself in you. Why should he anyway?

Word count: 2.9k

Genre: PWP / Porn With Feelings, Fwb!au

Tags & Warnings: smut, (sub!jimin kinda, soft dom!reader, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, praise kink, sub space I think), explicit language.

Also available on Ao3

A/N: I really needed to write that one to get it out of my mind lol. It’s really just smut. It’s also technically a college AU but it’s not mentioned at all so yeah, do with that what you will. I might write some more for this AU after I’ve written more for if I can never give you peace but yeah, in the meantime I hope you’ll enjoy this!

It seems that Jimin just can’t stop drowning himself in you.

He doesn’t mean to, really, nor did he mean for it to happen. He didn’t realize the power your eyes could have on him, didn’t think he would end up only able to think about you and your lips, didn’t imagine that after getting a taste he would constantly long to be back in your arms. Even when he waits for you to text, checking his phone more than he’d like to admit, he tries not to think about what you do to him exactly.

And then you do text, and he’s already ready to go and meet you, because he misses your touch so badly. When he gets there, you open the door and you smile at him, and he knows, he just knows. He’s a goner.

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titty kitty milk - hybrid!myg x reader

This is a collab with @kittymyg :) you can read her version here.

cw// lactation kink

-

Soft, warm, squishy.

Laying in your shared bed while resting against your triple d's was heaven in itself for Yoongi.

You had been married to Yoongi, a Japanese Bobtail cat hybrid, for five years, and you both cherished every second of it.

He loved rubbing his head against your lactating chest, and sometimes if he was really good you would allow him a few mouthfuls of your milk as a special treat.

You were still asleep, and he had just woken up, and seeing how you were both naked from the previous nights activities, he saw it as an open invitation for some milk.

He moved himself so that while you were asleep on your back, he was laying on top of you facing you, at eye level with your left tit.

He latched onto you, and had swallowed only a few mouthfuls of your sweet milk, when you grabbed him by the nape of his neck, effectively making his whole body go slack, including his mouth. The milk that was in his mouth was spilled out, running out of his mouth and down his face onto you.

You let go of his nape and he begins to cough up what little milk he managed to choke on.

He sits up and manages to wheeze out a, "What was that for?".

"Thats for drinking my milk before your own children get their breakfast. That's why.", You say while climbing out of bed and tugging a pair of shorts on while Yoongi still sputters on the remains of milk in his throat.

You don't even bother putting a shirt on as you walk to the next room, the nursery that held your eight month old triplets, Suan, Soyeon, and Suji, one of them still asleep, and two of which at the sight of you began mewling out of hunger.

You take the two crying hybrid children out of the shared crib, and carry them over to the rocking chair with the intent of nursing them.

You sit yourself down, and they imediately begin suckling your milk as if it was their last meal.

You knew Yoongi liked your milk, but to drink your milk before your children did was a big no-no. If you were to let him, he would keep drinking your milk even if he was already full, and leave none for your children. He kept insisting that you should feed them a formula instead of your milk so he could have you all to himself, and you had tried that, only to be met with resistance when the triplets absolutely refused to drink it.

Yoongi walked in the nursery, and sat down on the couch by the rocking chair. After a few minutes, he looked over at you, down to your feeding children, then back up to you and had the audacity to whisper-ask, "Are they almost done?".

To which you lovingly elbow him in the ribs and chuckled quietly to yourself.

"I think so, they're beginning to nod off, and Suan's still asleep."

He nods.

A minute later, they've both been burped, and are now asleep.

You both walk back to the bedroom, Yoongi hot on your heels. You sit up in bed and he immediately jumps to your side latching himself on your right tit this time, happily purring while getting some milk.

A minute or so later, you hear mewling from the nursery, and he grumbles out a, "You gotta be kidding me.", while you get up again to feed the crying child, and at this point, he feels like he wants to start crying.

the art of wanting | jjk (m/nc17)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, a lil bit of plot 

>>word count: 10.3k literally why cant i write anything short ever hhhh

>>warnings: cute baby!!!, jk being a good dad, he likes to garden :(, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, handjob, coming in pants, AYOOO OC GOT A FAT COOCHIE, lowkey body worship, fat coochie supremacy, oral (m/f), safe sex, sexual tension, praise, multiple orgasms, eye contact, jk likes to watch 🥴, asking for permission, jk’s lowkey controlling i guess but it’s soft and like not toxic lol, PLAYFUL use of the word ‘daddy’, no actual daddy kink 🙄, dirty talk

>>notes: idk what it is, but something about actual dads being called ‘daddy’ in a sexy way just does not sit right w me 😐 so i did not include the d word in any sexy context sry daddie luvers, maybe next time !! anyway! late vday one shot!! didn’t turn out as good as i wanted, but i still hope you enjoy! sorry for any mistakes; this is not beta’d lol ALSO ty to @moonb0yy​ for helping me with parts ilysm much bestie ur the best <3

>>summary: you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you.

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FROM AFAR | PJM

Pairing: Yandere! Professor Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Warning(s): Obsessive behavior, somnophilia, NONCON touching + video recording, smut, mentions of infidelity, drugs, alcohol, (11 year age gap) reader is 18!

Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with the topics above.

A/N: Hi! Here’s an EXTREMELY late valentine’s gift for each and everyone of you, but better late than never, am I right?

What a sick sweetness he carried. The love he possessed for a forbidden woman, a woman eleven years his junior. She was so immensely intelligent, so sweet and kind, so meek that it would melt his heart like butter whenever she would approach his desk unaware of his pounding heart, excessively beating in his chest, caused by her delightful presence.

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