The Mansion | Yandere!jimin Au

the mansion | yandere!jimin au

FIRST INSTALLMENT || HALLOWEEN YANDERE SERIES

pairing: yandere!jimin x reader (f)

genre: yandere, slight horror

warnings:  obsessive and unhealthy behaviors, cheating, graphic language, manipulation, supernatural themes, mentions of blood, violent themes, kidnapping ( TW; mentions of suicide & attempted suicide )

word count: 16.9k

Based on the Halloween classic; The Haunted Mansion

Synopsis: When your husband suggests a family vacation in order to soothe some marital tension, you reluctantly agree. However, as always, your husband’s job gets in the way and you make an unexpected stop at the mansion he intends to sell and are immediately greeted by the eerie owner of the location, the infamous Master Jimin . Much to your dismay, you seem to be in for a much longer stay than you intended as it seems the owner has become completely enchanted by you.

The distinct smell the leaves carried during autumn was on your favorite scents of all time. Your husband knew that, he knew how much you loved this time of year and how you obnoxiously always celebrated it. Decorating the house with all things that resembled the nostalgic orange toned weather. After all, this was the exact time of year you had met each other, the exact time you fell in love.

And it was exactly why you were now seated beside him in your small Corolla, on the way to a beautiful cabin site he had booked to stay the weekend at. Not only that but he had also stopped by to get your favorite flowers before setting off on your journey. The yellow and orange tulips sat on your lap, staring back at you in almost mocking manner. It was all meant to make you feel like you were falling in love again, such small details that should have brought a sense of warmth over you. A reminder that the love you two shared had never died out.

If only that was enough to save a marriage, you thought bitterly. Because the thing was, you hadn’t felt a thing when your husband gave you those flowers. Despite the lovely familiar smile plastered over his face as he handed over to you, you felt nothing but numbness. And that worried you deeply, his smiles were one of your favorite things about him.

Or used to be.

“Honey, I’m telling you, this is a great deal.” You tuned back into the conversation just in time, he glanced over at you expectedly but you only gave him a stiff nod in response.

“Best opportunity I’ve had in a long time, the place is amazing. We won’t be long at all, alright?” He reassured but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. You were already fed up that it had taken him so long to take you and your daughter out on a long overdue family vacation, him taking this opportunity to make it about his job once again just soured your mood even more.

“As long as you make it quick.” You replied back with a forced smile. You truly did try to be the supportive wife, you had been that wife for over 5 years now and you realized you were quickly growing tired of it. You were sure this was the longest you had been in your husband’s presence for months now. The sad part of it was that it was only three hours into your trip and he hadn’t even told you he was going to be stopping by the said place until a couple minutes ago.

Keep reading

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

---

“Master will show you what you deserve.” 

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!Yoongi 

Genre: Smut, friends with benefits!AU

Warnings: sub!Jungkook, Dom!Yoongi, Master as a title, shibari, face fucking, use of buttplugs, anal sex, that fast type of vampire sex, motel sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, bloodsharing, this is softer than you may think

Wordcount: 5.9k

a/n: This is set after Sanguis Alpha but before Magnus Venatio. This idea came to me in a moment of complete feralness. Enjoy besties 🤪❤

Jungkook was alone tonight. Yoongi told him that he would be back later and that he shouldn’t leave his hotel room until then. 

Jungkook obeyed except for when he got himself a bottle of water from the bar downstairs. 

It has been two hours since he had gotten the bottle and it was empty by now, staring at him as he was waiting for Yoongi to return.

He showered for a long time tonight. He even washed his hair and shaved his body. He hopes that Yoongi will notice, just as he hopes that he will notice the subtle eyeshadow on his eyelids and the arousal in his scent. 

Jungkook wanted to look handsome tonight. Handsome and presentable. And the reason for that was simple.

Jungkook was needy. At first he wanted to jerk off, but then he remembered just how good Yoongi fucks and he decided against it. So he spent the last twenty minutes fidgeting in his waiting position, hoping for Yoongi to come back soon.  

Life on the road is exhausting on most days and practicing with Yoongi on his urges leaves Jungkook close to passing out on some days, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. Yoongi has taught him so much already. These days he can kiss a human without wanting to rip their throats out and Yoongi promises him that in a decade or two he will be able to have sex with them without ripping through them. But it is still a long way until Jungkook will achieve this goal and his cock ached too much tonight to wait twenty years. He needs relief and hopes that Yoongi is willing to give it to him. 

Jungkook’s head snaps up, his lips curl into an excited smile. He is here, crossing the corner into the hallway and taking big steps. Jungkook can smell his cologne even through the door and hear the sound of his boots jingling. He squirms on the floor, feeling himself harden at the mere thought of what was to come. It is not long now. 

The door unlocks. 

Jungkook straightens his back. 

The door opens. 

Jungkook makes sure that his hands are presented perfectly. Resting on his muscular thighs with their palms facing up. 

Yoongi steps inside the room, having his back turned to Jungkook in order to lock the door. 

Jungkook swallows heavily, waiting for the moment Yoongi would turn and notice him. 

Yoongi turns. 

“Oh”, he lets out, freezing on the spot.

Keep reading

---

Christmas Mass | PJM

Every Sunday, like clockwork, as designed and ordained, you sit quietly. Pray. Christmas mass comes, tonight your congregation dresses beautifully, like ornaments placed in a row right in front of God. Your priest stands at the head like an angel atop the tree, commanding and pious and hauntingly handsome. Red. You're a good faithful girl. You were taught to be, punished to be. You pray for respite, for something more than the condemnation this cold and icy town bestows upon you. Sinners. The coldness permeates your bones, you're always scared. Tainted. Terrified of sin, terrified by your thoughts for your priest. Sacrilegious. This Christmas prayers are answered by no God.

Jimin x reader Demon AU. Dark smut.

Hi this is my first really dark plot. I wanted to post this yesterday t-t, but well, I did make it in time for Sunday lol. If you like dark fics than keep reading, you're in for a wild ride. If you don't like dark fics, then stop reading right now :D

Trigger warning: 18+ dark themes, horror, dead body, blood, gore, demons, religion, church, smut, rough sex, sadism, reader manipulation, dubcon, sleep paralysis, blowjob, fingering, oral sex, spit play, edging times a thousand, choking, degradation, dark ending

Word Count: 7.5k

---

CHRISTMAS EVE.

Church bells ring.

Back and Forth, resounding and loud. Hollow echoing, the musical tone spreads out across your small town.

The clanging reverberates like a heartbeat, steadily growing louder with each step closer. You felt the deep vibrations thumping inside you, the church just on the horizon. Like a beacon to others, but to you, to you it felt foreboding. If the church was a beast, the bells were it’s roar.

The procession walks so solemnly for such a festive occasion. Snow crunches beneath the throng of churchgoers.

The bells ring.

You hear your own heavy breathing, a familiar hiss in your ear to move out of the way.

“Yes Mother.”

The ice and rocks hurt your soles. Your heels are too tight, too constricting around your feet.

The women around you dressed in jewel tones, in their best dresses, faces powdered, lipstick heavy, too much perfume.

The men around you wore coats and hats, warm and cozy, blessings for the breadwinners.

But you, you have to freeze.

In thin expensive material, in painful shoes and compressing undergarments, your hair pulled tight, your face itchy and you can’t scratch, lest you ruin your meticulous makeup. The wives clinged to their husbands, shivering in the cold.

You shivered, alone.

You fell further back into the crowd with no man to hurriedly pull you along, to badger you to move faster. God, these women must hate their lives as much as you.

Day one of three.

Three days of this. Three days stuck inside these pious walls. You might as well be one of those bells, aching under strain, always moving and never getting anywhere.

The small chapel was filled.

In every pew, churchgoers stand shoulder to shoulder. Air thick with incense and body heat. You prayed for your soul. This holy communion was not comforting, this was not fun. The only thing you looked forward to was-

Him.

On Cue, Father Jimin Park ascended to the forefront. Draped in gold, angelic in his robes, ethereal in his movements, an icon of faith.

You prayed. You endured the smell of musk and the rising temperature to watch him move across the stage. You listened to his sermon, hypnotized by his voice, in awe of his presence.

He’s commanding. Commanding attention, commanding respect. Eyes sharply watching, peering into the eyes of each member of the congregation, he kept his gaze steadfast. You longed for Jimin to notice you, look at you, see you...

It was unfair, you wished to be like him. Father Park was magnificent. You were a nobody, a disappointment of a daughter, unwed, misunderstood. You prayed for what he had. You prayed for his confidence, his passion. His sermons captivated, and when he sang...his singing made you really believe in a higher power.

He’s beautiful. Your church’s newest Pastor caught the eyes of every woman in town, but he was a man of God. Built like The Gods, more like it. Physique apparent under even the cascading fabric of his robes. But he kept to himself, smiled gently and reproached any woman’s flirting. You watched from a distance, too shy to ever strike up conversation, even if you yearned to befriend the distant newcomer, to-

You prayed. He was a man of faith, you told yourself, a man of God. You felt shameful in your longing thoughts.

And yet your thoughts whispered over your prayers, growing more and more depraved. You were captive to the fantasies running through your head.

You tried to focus on Jimin’s words, but you thought of his lips instead, full and soft, running gently along your cheek.

You tried to focus on the gospel, but you imagined his sweet voice against the shell of your ear instead, calling your name, whispering vile things the holy man in front of you would never think to say.

You prayed, pulling your thighs together, tight, subduing the ache inside, and focused on the man in front of you. His alluring eyes, his enchanting smile. In your mind his eyes turned dark, his smile turning seductive...

He’s sinful. You shook your head, breaking away from your fantasies. You prayed-

You almost jumped when Jimin’s eyes caught yours and held your gaze, his smile widening. You felt caught, trapped under a microscope like a bug, on your back, legs spread, about to be dissected.

You couldn’t keep your eyes connected any longer, too hot under his stare, letting go of what you wanted desperately. You turned back to your bible, buzzing inside from the moment you shared. You were weak and foolish, just like your parents always said.

“Body of Christ.”

You cupped your hands in front, but Jimin raised his hand to your lips instead, smiling again.

The buzzing intensified, so close to him, you were able to admire the new Pastor’s beautiful features, able to reach out and touch him. You willed your body to remain calm.

But the heat inside you grew.

It was so shameful, how much you pined for him, arousal dripping between your legs, pooling in your underwear. A transgression you couldn’t control, your shame overflowing, sticky against your folds. It was wrong!

You prayed for forgiveness! For strength!

You held your breath, parting your lips, resting your tongue, you waited for the sacrament. Father Park stood elevated above you. It was overwhelming, how he towered over you.

He bent down closer.

You suppressed a shudder when his fingers pressed down on your tongue, surprised by the accidental graze. His small touch had your body reeling. You screamed your prayers in your head.

“Blood of Christ.”

You reached for the chalice as Jimin lifted the cup to your mouth. Your body froze as his adept fingers guided your jaw, tipping your head back to drink the red wine. Your sick fantasies resurfaced, thoughts of his hands all over you, caressing your jaw just as he did, wrapping around your throat, reaching inside of you, pulling you apart, bruising your body as his.

Jimin smiled sweetly down at you, eyes sparkling with warmth. You were distraught, heated by his attention, sinning in front of the eyes of The Lord, a weak heathenous woman, a sinner-

“A-Amen.”

CHRISTMAS DAY

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

“Y/n?”

“Father P-Park?”

“Forgive me, these should stay anonymous, but I recognized your voice. You seemed troubled the other day in mass.”

You kept quiet, too scared to speak. How did he recognize you? You've barely spoke to him, except in your confessionals. Had he known it was you all along?

“Are you still having your night terrors?” He had.

“Oh. Um y-yes.” You called them nightmares when you asked for The Lord’s forgiveness, but they were worse, dreams fueled by cardinal sin, torturing you for nights on end. “But t-that’s not w-why-”

“What is so wrong that you seek out forgiveness on Christmas Day?” His voice was playful, an attempt to calm your nerves, but the thought of answering him made your stomach turn.

How could you tell him you needed reprieve from your lust-filled thoughts, when he was the subject of your desires? How humiliating. So you improvised.

“I-I want to run away.”

“Run?” This peaked the pastor’s attention, “From what?”

“This town!” You cover your mouth in your outburst. Looking over to the curtain, you try to make out the expression of his shadowy figure to no avail. “From m-my f-family,” you exhale. “I just - I just feel like I’m meant for more. I’m so tired - I’m so sick of this place. I hate it,” you spit out.

There’s silence behind the pleated curtains, a softness to Jimin’s words once he finally speaks. “Hate is a strong word.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately. However, you meant what you said, you felt the truth behind your words as soon as you spoke them. “I want to leave, but my parents-” You scoff at the realization, running away really would be your only means to escape this town. “They would never allow it. I-I’m an adult, I should be able to make my own choices, live my own life-”

“It is only natural for a parent to want to shield their child, try to understand it from their perspective.”

“I-I’m sorry, please forgive my transgressions.” Your heart rate quickens, you bit your tongue and waited for your penance, keeping your thoughts to yourself. A devout man like Father Park could never understand the doubts you held.

Jimin sighs, “You are wise to stay. You are very blessed, I have only just come and I see the opportunities here.” What opportunities could be in this slowly decaying town? “The world is full of dangers that could lead sweet girls like you astray.”

Your chest tightens, anger bubbling up inside you. Rage so sweet, another opportunity for Jimin.

“Have you spoken to your parents about this?”

“They’ll never listen-” you say bitterly.

“Try.”

---

You cried, walking the quiet streets of your town after fighting with your mother. The bitter cold was nothing compared to the bitterness inside you. Why couldn’t your parents see your unhappiness? They were as blind as their faith, and as judgmental too.

You were tired, yet this small freedom you didn’t want to let go. You walked the edge of the town, wishing for the courage to step over it’s boundaries once and for good.

“Father Park?” A man stood under a street lamp, illuminated by the yellow glow. When he turned, his beautiful face was unmistakable. He dressed in black, so different from his long white robes. The signature white collar of his priesthood around his neck.

What was Jimin doing on the edge of town? So far away from The Church, which sat at the town’s center. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m used to it, I’ve lived in colder areas,” he smiles, folding his arms, his forearms bare, the sleeves of his black dress shirt folded up despite the cold. How is he not freezing? You hugged your body, you could feel the coldness through your coat into your bones. “You should go inside, y/n. You’ll catch a cold.”

His hands run up and down your arms. It was a kind gentle gesture. The thoughts that followed were not.

Jimin noticed your bloodshot eyes, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, pulling away. “I-I’m fine, sorry I bothered you.” You turned to leave, but his hands remained on your shoulders, yanking you back.

“Wait! Here, come sit down.”

You could feel the bench's cold metal frame through your clothes, Jimin's warm body pressed close to your side. You wanted to lean into his warmth further, but held steadfast in shame, for your body was seeking more than just comfort.

“Why are you out here all alone? You know it’s dangerous to walk alone in the night, even on The Lord’s Day.”

You laugh softly, “I very much doubt this night could get worse.”

Jimin frowns. “This does not have the discretion of a confessional, but know I am here to talk, if you’d like.”

You stay silent, holding back unshed tears.

“Y/n?” His finger pulls at your chin, shocking you out of your stupor. “Please talk to me. I want to help. I would be remiss if I left a pretty young woman crying alone on Christmas Day.” He speaks softly, soothingly. It made you feel worse, the pity he was giving you. It was pitiful, how you were acting.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ve just had a fight with my parents. I’ll be okay, don’t worry. I-I’m fine.” You hope he believes your wavering smile, the excess cheer in your voice.

“Let’s go inside, c’mon, before you catch a cold. I think we’ve both hidden for too long.”

“No, I’m f-fine-” You didn’t want to go back yet, back into the stuffiness of your room, stuck like a prisoner.

His fingers interlocked around yours, pulling you up. “Then come with me, let’s go to the church.”

You followed him obediently, like a lamb to slaughter.

The streets were empty, everyone gone inside their homes, doing what you should be doing, spending the holiday with their loving families.

Instead you walked in the darkness. The night was still. Serene in your mind, the pastor’s presence made the quiet feel pleasant, the deserted town feel quaint.

You walked slowly back into town. The darkness of the winter slowly brightened along the path. Father Park did not let go of your hand.

You shifted your eyes down, unbelieving of your circumstance. You knew he was only doing this out of pity, you knew it meant nothing, but your heart wouldn’t listen. Your heart jumped inside your chest with each step and swing of your connected wrists.

The church felt so empty now, the smell of incense gone, a cool draft wafting over the pews. You followed Father Park inside, straight to the Church’s altar. He held your hand still, much to your delight. At the head of the church, you looked back, to see what he sees every weekend.

He pulled you further. You walked along the walls, past the crucifixion. Behind the large cross there were a hidden quarters.

---

“Are you thirsty? There’s not much here but wine, but it will warm you up.” He poured two glasses.

“T-Thank you.” Inside the small backroom there was only one seat at the table and a small cot in the corner. You stood awkwardly. Should you sit on the bed?

The red liquid burned your throat, you could feel it trickle down to the pit of your stomach, warming you instantly. This was much stronger than the watered down communion. You held the cup to your heart, letting the warmth cascade down your limbs.

Father park smiled sweetly, leaning back on the old wooden chair, legs extended and spread.

“What to do with you.”

“S-Sorry?” You look up immediately, startled that you had been caught looking at his body.

His expression changed, before you could properly understand, before you could realize his ulterior motives. He smiled warmly at you again. Father Park Jimin was smiling at you, seeking out your company, one of the most beautiful men you’ve laid eyes upon. Was it a Christmas miracle?

The coat you wore felt too warm now, you pulled it awkwardly off your body. You still wore your church dress, your shoes changed to more comfortable boots. You ran a shaky hand along your brows, smoothing down your eyebrow hairs and wiping away the growing perspiration, shifting your weight between your legs.

“Here, sit.” Jimin stands, offering you his chair.

“Oh! No, it’s alright.”

Jimin has already moved the chair to your side, he sits against the table instead.

You should have just taken a seat on the bed.

This position was much worse. You kept your head awkwardly tilted up, scanning the room. It was so bare and empty compared to the church's decorated walls, covered in artifacts, in this room only hung one lone cross, tilted on its axis by a missing nail.

You let out a strained breath, looking anywhere but the man in front of you, his thighs spread, leaning back across the table, looking like a picture of relaxation. But you, you are more tense than ever. You kept your legs crossed, your body folded into itself. You didn’t want to accidentally brush against his leg, to make him uncomfortable.

You take another sip of the wine. “Can I ask you a question?” Jimin asks. You nod. “You have no husband. No boyfriend, at least from what I’ve noticed during mass-” You didn’t know whether to feel elated by the fact that Father Park had noticed you, or humiliated that it was glaring obvious that you were alone. “Is that one of the reasons you want to leave?”

“N-No. I just want more, to see the world."

Jimin sighs. “The choir girls like to talk...” Jimin rubs the back of his neck, looking away. “I heard what happened to your fiance, I’m sorry.”

You played with the buttons of your dress, looking down. You tried not to stare at his thighs, spread open in front of your trembling body. “It was a long time ago.”

Your parents had arranged a suitor for you. He was nice, average, a decent man. He was everything your parents ever wanted for you. It was an easy bland relationship, a perfect union, and then there was an accident-

You thought of the crash many winters ago. The images you tried to forget flashed through your mind.

The red headlights, the tires sliding against the ice.

You came to, cut and bleeding.

Broken glass, blood, clouds of smoke.

When you turned to look at the driver, your fiance, his face…his eyes…his grey lifeless face…his swollen dead eyes…

You screamed, you cried for help. Cold, hurt. The happy life you were promised was over before it began.

You hated yourself, because the horrible truth is you never wanted to marry that man. You prayed. You wanted another chance, you wanted to find real love, but not like this, not this way.

You jumped when Jimin placed a hand on your head.

“I know it might feel like you’ll never find someone like him again, but a beautiful girl like you? Just have faith.”

“Yes, faith.” You gave him a strained smile, but inside you were screaming, just like that day of the crash.

You hated this town, the gossiping, the way everyone needed to know everyone else’s business and yet they treated other people’s problems like a nuisance, your pain like a nuisance. And now their meddling had reached Father Park.

Now there was no one left in this town that didn’t know your sordid past.

How long did he know? Were all those commiserations his way of trying to fix you? Did he see you as broken? It wasn’t you, but your dirty little secret that made him notice you?

“I need to get home,” you mutter.

You jump up from the chair, and at that same moment Father Park decides to move off the table. Your bodies crash into one another. The awkward scramble to right yourselves lessens the tension for just a bit, only a little, a small laughter shared between you and gentle hands adjusting each other. But when you look into his eyes, you can’t help but feel exposed again, dissected into parts, unable to make yourself whole. “I’m sorry, I have to - Goodbye, Father Park.”

Without hesitation you run, unwilling to look back or accept that Father Park called you beautiful.

“Excuse me, s-sorry!” you apologized to the man you ran into in your haste, the quiet organ player of your church. He held you steady and your body swayed into his.

“Sorry, I m-must be tired.” The day was almost over, you need sleep, you wanted rest now more than anything. Your body leaned against his chest, your eyes growing heavy, you could barely keep them open. Your head rested against his chest, you felt the shake of his soft laughter against your temple.

“Did you want me to take you to bed?”

“Let her go, Min.” Father’s park voice sounded so far away, like you were in a dream-

The organ player let you go.

You offered your apologies again, clutching your aching head, and left running.

“She smells so sweet. She’s easily corruptible.” The organ player stretches his tired body. “When will I get my fun?”

“Quiet Min, let me work.” Jimin walks towards Min Yoongi, his oldest friend. He sways down the center aisle in a dance, his palm running along the pews, singeing the wood with each touch, applying small disfigurements to the House of God. He grinned in satisfaction.

“Your methods take so long,” Yoongi yawns. “How tiresome.”

“I disagree, I think the hunt is the best part.” He smiles wickedly, swinging his arm over the organ player's shoulder. “A small push here and there to weaken her bit by bit,” Jimin dances his fingers in the air as if he were stroking keys on a piano.

He inhales deep, eyes rolling in the back of his head, groaning loudly. “I can smell her desperation from here. You could never understand the thrill of the chase!” Jimin laughs, the echoes carry through the empty church like a distorted melody.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I prefer to use my energy where it counts. It could have been done tonight.”

“Do you pick a fruit before it’s ripened? She is so close to letting her lust consume her, and then she’ll be mine!” He rolls his tongue across his teeth, sighing from the thought.

Yoongi scoffs, “Ours.”

---

That night your dreams came back.

It was always Father Park at the center of your fantasies. This time your thoughts drifted to the vision of him as he was tonight, in all black, tight clothes, hard muscles. He chuckled in the shadows as your body twisted on its own, aching for relief. Your heartbeat fluttering, ribcage tightening from the pressure of your desire. A vision of him stood over you, his dark brown eyes glowing like amber as he watched you, your twisted fantasy of him slowly undressed for you as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

Unable to speak, unable to call for him or call for help, you could only gasp softly as you watched him move closer to you, slowly and purposefully along the edge of the bed.

“So beautiful. So divine.” Jimin moaned your name. Your blanket pulled away, followed by your pants, and then your panties, leaving your body exposed to the cold, nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. The only warmth you felt was the growing ache between your legs as your limbs stayed locked in sleep. Pliable. Ready to be used.

Jimin gripped your thigh and pulled you open. He smiled, reaching for your other leg, pulling you wider, standing over you his heated eyes watched you like a piece of art, studying your splayed out form.

You whimpered, trying to call out to Jimin. His hand on your skin felt so real, a reflection of gentle hands on your earlier, your fantasy twisted the memory into harsh unforgiving fondling.

You panted as his fingers dug into your soft flesh, fingers like claws, scrapping along the length of your leg, nails digging into your skin. You’re left to grunting helplessly as he scratches along the expanse of your skin, down one leg and up another.

It was just a dream, a figment of your imagination. You knew he couldn't hurt you. Or rather, his pain felt good, a part of your fantasies, like scratching an itch.

Your breathing escalated when his black eyes came closer. A dream, you told yourself, this was all a depraved dream. A version of Father Park your sick mind created, a taunting teasing sadistic version. No matter how real it felt…

His hot tongue ran along your scratches, up and up and up your body. You stayed frozen, tormented like Tantalus, with everything you ever wanted in front of you and still unable to grasp your desires. His toned body seductively moving against you in a sensuous dance. A heaviness veiled over you, heaviness in your groin, no amount of clenching would take away the ache, your body became desperate. You begged your mind for more.

Tears cascaded down your face as you endured Jimin’s teasing touches, wishing you had been a more courageous woman when you had your chance. You had wanted Father Park even knowing how forbidden he was, and now your mind was punishing you for it.

His hot tongue ran along your breast, lapping at your sensitive nubs, up your neck, across your jaw, so painfully slow you wanted to scream. He licked away your tears. “Crying for me? Crying for cock? Such a desperate slut.” You whimpered as his fingers slid down your tongue, opening your mouth for him.

“Whining to be filled by me? You want me to punish you for all those dirty little thoughts in your head, don't you, slut?” His thumb pressed down, fingers holding your jaw, moving your head to nod.

Your eyes closed, overwhelmed by your desires. Your chest felt heavy, his thighs pressing you down, shortening your breath. Your arousal intensified, you were becoming so wet you felt it on your thighs, sticking to your sheets.

You open your eyes to his legs around you, a devilish grin on Jimin’s face, so unlike Father Park’s warm smile, this vision of him looked elated, drunk on the power he had over you.

This leaking cock laid over your face, painting your skin with his essence. “This is what you want, isn’t it? For me to use you like a filthy whore, yeah?” He laughed at the agony across your features. Jimin took his time playing with you, pulling the chords of your sanity until each one snapped, until you were crazed for him.

Gathering spit, he let it fall on his cock and between your parted lips, fingers wiping the liquid over your cheeks, painting your face with his cum and saliva.

His fingers run along the corners of your wet mouth as he bends over and releases more of his spit into your open cavity. “This is better than the blood of Christ, don't you think?” He laughs, biting his lip, delighting in your struggle. “Swallow, and I’ll give you my cock.”

He giggles wickedly as you do as he says. “Ahh so perfect! So willing to be corrupted. My sweet little lamb.”

Jimin rolled his hips into the wetness of your mouth, pressing deep into the hollowness of your throat. You inhaled his scent as your nose met his skin, he smelled so good, he felt so hard and thick around your lips.

You choked on his thickness with every deep thrust. You were a mess of drool and spit and cum as he used your mouth for his own pleasure. No matter how good it felt to hear his moans, feel his cock slide down your tongue, you ached for pleasure too. You craved release. You needed him.

He released down your throat, his hot cum coating your mouth, your body twitched as your breath was stolen.

You coughed for air when he finally released himself from your mouth. You felt the coldness of his abandonment. The chilly air wrapping around your sweaty body, you shivered and ached for Jimin as he stood over you watching you again, pumping himself over your spread body.

Jimin slapped the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving a welt across your skin. Your body flinched, a yell came out as a soft whine. Another harsh slap down on your dripping cunt was all you got from Jimin.

Your skin stung with each slap, eyes begging Jimin for his cock instead. Until finally, when you felt the last threads of your sanity unraveling, Jimin plunged his cock deep inside your slick walls, searing your body with remarkable pleasure. You closed your eyes, appreciating the fullness.

“Such a desperate fucking slut.” he groans. “Look at you, I bet you could cum on my cock if I stayed just like this.” He stayed still against you and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t will your hips to lift. “Not yet, you’re not ready yet.”

You woke up, drenched in sweat and face messy with tears. You body buzzing and shaking with need. Your limbs now listening, you immediately reached for your core, fingers running over your lips, your clothes drenched in your juices. It was almost immediate that you came, so quick and fast your release wasn’t even fulfilling.

You whimpered, maddened, fingers swiping along your drenched core over and over, trying for another orgasm, but your weak fingers were not good enough, and your second release never came. Your body ached, core sore, your arms and fingers tired, you cried all night, praying for release. Praying for Father Park to fuck you. So lost in lust and depravity you never noticed black eyes watching you from the darkness, soft laughter in the corner of your room.

CHRISTMAS MASS

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“F-Father P-Park?”

“Y/n?”

Your insides twisted painfully, sore and throbbing. You felt invigorated that it was him again answering you behind the veil.

You yanked the curtain open, meeting the surprised face of Father Park. He wore silver robes for the special Sunday mass, sparkling like a vision of divinity.

“Father Park, I-”

“Are you okay, y/n, do you have a fever?” his hand reached out to you, caressing your forehead. You pull your lips into your mouth, quivering with despair.

And like a dam bursting, you cry, falling into his silver robes. He runs his hands soothingly along your hair, your back, but his touch felt like fire, and your body burned with need.

“F-Forgive m-me Father, f-for I have s-sinned.”

He shushes you, holding you close.

“Go ahead and speak, tell me your sins.”

“I c-can’t get these thoughts out of my head. I c-can’t.” you cried.

“What thoughts? Describe them to me.” He hugs you closer, arms resting low around your hips. You shuddered in his embrace. Your hands fisted into his robes, afraid you’ll pull him to you if you let your grip relax. Idle hands are the Devil’s plaything, they say. And right now, your body felt like a doll on a string, moving of its own accord.

“I can’t tell you. It’s too shameful...”

“The Lord’s judgement can be harsh, I know that scares you,” he whispers soothingly, “But there is no judgement from me here. You can trust me, y/n.”

You looked up, into Jimin’s eyes, now so close from your proximity. His eyes looked at your caringly, searching your for answers. You breathed in his smell, his scent conjuring visions of your dreams. His lips so close all you needed to do was lean over.

You moved away quickly, pressing yourself into a corner, unable to look Father Park in the eye.

You squeezed your eyes closed. “I h-have lustful thoughts.”

“Be specific, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” You felt his body move closer.

“I have lustful thoughts about you!” You wail, head in your hands.

Jimin slowly pulls your hands away from your eyes, lifting your chin,

‘And what lustful thoughts do you have of me?”

He is so close, body now pressed against you in the tiny confessional. He didn't seem upset by your confession, instead he waited patiently for you to answer him.

“You’re touching me. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Where am I touching you?” He holds the back of your head, so you can’t look away. So you have to meet his eyes when you tell him.

“Everywhere. Everywhere on my body.” you whisper, entranced by his deep piercing eyes.

“Exactly where? Touching you on your shoulders?” His palms rest on each shoulder blade.

You shake your head, biting your lip so hard you taste copper. You shift uncomfortable, already wet again.

“Y-your touching my breasts-”

You gasp when he moves his hands from your shoulders, placing them atop each breast, gripping your mounds tight, almost painfully.

You cry out involuntarily, a hand covers your mouth to stop your sounds, smacking your head harshly into the wooden wall of the confessional, his other hand never slowing down, pulling and kneading your breasts. You moan into his palm, whimpering, eyes wide with shock, unable to think, unable to make sense of what’s happening. You can’t believe it, Father Park is sinning, with you.

“Where else do I touch you in your thoughts, Sweetheart?” You can’t answer him with his hand tight against your mouth. “Do I touch you here?” His hand harshly grips your thigh. Digging into your flesh. You nod your head against his palm, wide-eyed.

“Do I touch you...here?” His thick fingers press inside you. Your entrance is so wet and slippery, three fingers glide in, your walls easily stretching around his digits. Your wetness doesn’t stop the pain from erupting at the intrusion. You moan and whimper against his palm, body seizing, twisting between the wall of the confessional and Jimin’s body.

“You think of me touching you right-” his eyes lower to your core, “-here, yes?” You quickly nod, head thrown back, tears of pleasure escaping the corners of your eyes as he pumps his digits harshly in and out of you. He finally removes his hand from your mouth. You grunt, shakily exhaling, whimpering as his fingers delve in deep. It was easier when you didn’t have to try to silence yourself and Jimin was doing it for you.

His body pressed in closer, as he whispered into your ear. “What else happens in your sinful thoughts, hmm? Do I fuck you?”

“Y-Yes.”

You yelp as his hand grabs your face harshly, pressing your cheeks together, squishing your lips into a perfect O. You looked up into his eyes peering down at you, scrutinizing each labored breath you took. He kisses your open mouth, his tongue pressed in deep, stealing the rest of your air. His thumb began rubbing deep circles into your bundle of nerves, leaving you shaking, desire overtaking your surprise.

Suddenly, Father Park stops his ministrations. “Quiet Angel, or we’ll get caught. What will The Town think of you then?”

You were close to combusting under his pressure. “Please Father. I-I want to cum.”

He presses his nose to your throat, inhaling you deeply. Your desperation smelled so sweet to his senses. “Not yet, think of it as penance for your sins. See you tonight, y/n.”

And before you could react he pulled away from you, drawing the curtain back. When you moved, searching him out, the confessional was empty alone for you.

‘Tonight...’

---

Your legs shook as you walked amongst the procession in your Sunday best. The winter wind stung your skin, the tips of your fingers felt like ice, but your body felt heated inside, your core throbbing.

You stop just shy of The Church’s entrance, watching as the procession marched inside.

You tried to make sense of Father Park's actions. He was like the man in your dreams, so ruthless, rough, unmerciful. It had felt so good.

You were scared. Something told you to leave. You almost turned on your heel and ran, but the desire for his touch pulled you in again.

The church was packed once more. Every row full, every seat taken, except one. You moved to the empty spot next to your mother. She scowled at your tardiness as you adjusting your body to fit in the crowded space.

The congregation stood up, the women dressed in extravagant clothes, dressing to outshine one another. You wore your favorite dress. It wasn’t for God, no it was for-

Him.

Father Park walked in shining, draped in the silver. Angelic. Commanding. Beautiful as sin.

One look at him and your body responded. Your insides churned, your stomach tightened, you felt you aching core becoming slicker. You laid your head against the front pew, praying on your knees.

Your thoughts drifting to him all night, heightened by the memory of the confessional. You felt yourself slipping into a lust filled haze, your desires running wild, you couldn’t catch up, you couldn't stop them, you were stuck in an impossible race.

When it came time for communion, you could no longer stay idle.

You left.

You ran.

At the edge of town, you stood unable to move for hours, too scared to go forward, to pitiful to go back. Father Park's words rang in your ears, 'What will The Town think of you then?'

This goddamned town was all you ever knew! You tried to muster up the courage to leave it now, praying for strength. You clenched your jaw, holding in a scream. God never answered your prayers, why would he now?!

You looked back one more time, you feared it would be now or never.

You turned to the forest and then you saw something that changed your decision. Pairs of red orbs began circling closer to you in the darkness.

Frightened, you ran for the only home you ever knew. Then you thought of your parents and stopped just shy of your destination. If you couldn’t feel safe at home, what were you to do?

The only place left to go was…The Church.

---

The church was pitch black inside, Sunday Mass long over, you were all alone.

Your heels clicked on the wooden floorboards as you walked inside. Then like magic, the candles around the walls caught aflame, casting the church in a fiery flow.

You heard a shift. You turned around, searching for the source of the sound.

“Father Park?” Jimin no longer wore his robes. He stood in front of you wearing a suit of deep red, dark hair lightened to blonde.

“Call me Jimin, y/n.”

“Jimin,” you swallowed.

“You left mass early,” he whispers sweetly in your ear.

You jumped at his sudden appearance behind you, “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I hope it wasn’t because of what happened.” Jimin licks his lips and places his hands in his pockets, circling your body. “Because you know, I've been thinking about it all day long,” he sighs. “How good you felt wrapped around my fingers.”

Your face heated at his brazen words. “But y-your vow to God-”

Jimin laughs, appearing in front of you suddenly. "Don’t worry about me, Angel. I’ll just ask for a little absolution. See, that’s the wonderful thing about your god, a little Hail Mary or two and-” You squeak as Jimin appears behind you again, gripping your fingers, waving your hands in the air, bringing his lips together with a pop. “All is right again. It’s almost like, hmm,” he lays his chin against your shoulder, “it’s too good to be true.”

You swallowed down your growing fear. “I don't understand what's going on, Father Par- Jimin.”

“Then let me show you.” He wraps his arms around your middle. Yanking you to his front.

In that instance, his tug felt otherworldly.

You looked around at the stained glass windows illuminated by red moonlight, then back at Jimin. You almost screamed when you noticed his black eyes.

You run towards the doors, but they shut abruptly, the bang echoing through the empty church.

“Oh little lamb, did you think I’d let you go now?” he tuts, “I've just gotten started.”

“Please don't hurt me.”

“I would never,” he whispers, caressing your cheek. “Your pleasure is more valuable to me than your pain.”

“Now, drink.” Jimin grins, pulling a chalice from behind his back, making you jump. “You missed your Communion.” He lifts the glass in mock cheers. You reach for the glass and he pulls away teasingly, taking a long drink. He drops the chalice on the floor, letting it bounce and roll away as he stalks closer to you.

You stand frozen, too scared to disobey. The way he watches you, you felt staked to the ground, unable to move from his penetrating gaze. He lifts your chin, pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss, parting your lips with his own. You felt the warm liquid fill your mouth, searing your throat. You pull away coughing.

“This is not real, this is not real,” you cough, wiping your mouth. Have you finally let your fantasies turn into delusions?

“This?” You jumped as Jimin gripped your hips, pulling you into him. “Is not real?”

You looked into his black eyes as they turned back to the familiar deep shade of brown you remembered. Jimin held your hand in his, bringing your fingers to his soft lips, you watched as he licks the tips of your pads, wetting your digits with his mouth, he closes his eyes in bliss. “This doesn't feel real?”

You couldn't help but moan at the sight, as he dragged your fingers to your core, running along the wet fabric. “Lace?” Jimin chuckled, “What a sweet sweet gift for me.” He presses your fingers together, entering inside you, guiding you in and out.

“When your ex-lover died in your arms, what did you feel?” he murmurs against your temple, softly kissing your cheek.

“I felt...happy.” the words left your mouth without thought. It was something you tried to deny over and over, a feeling so deep inside you, so unlike you, you couldn’t trust it. “No! I d-don’t know.”

Jimin tuts, pressing his fingers in deeper, “Naughty naughty, what happened to your honesty?” His licked the lobe of your ear and you felt his undeniable pull again.

“I f-felt free.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, “You prayed so loud, it was hard to ignore.”

“Please...”

"Your cries brought me here, little lamb. You wanted passion did you not? You wanted more than that boring dud of a man could offer, hmm?” Jimin pulled your fingers out of you swiftly, twisting your wrist, gripping your hair, he yanks you closer to him.

What have you done?

“Mmm you smell so fucking sweet.”

You swallowed hard, “What do you want from me?” You try to pull away but he yanks you by the hair back to him.

“It's not what I want from you, little lamb,” he laughs, his eyes back to the horrifying shade of black. “It's what you want from me. I'll give you what ever you desire, you just have to say the words.”

"No! Stop!"

“What do you want, y/n?” He moves closer to you, you retreated until you could no longer, legs hitting the alter. “What do you desire?”

You tried to fight it but his enticing scent filled your head, his sweet words wrapped around you, like snakes, slithering across your skin. “What do you pray for at night, when you're all alone? In your bed?”

He stands so close to you his nose bumps into yours, staring into your eyes, his hot breath on your skin. “Please, kiss me.”

Jimin smirked, lips hoovering over yours.

And then he fell to his knees, lifting your dress, placing a kiss on your mound.

You legs give out as he pushed the lace away from your core, pressing his lips to your clit. You grip the altar's edge, holding yourself up as Jimin lays greedy kisses against your core, drinking your wetness.

You cry out, falling back as Jimin lifts your body up, placing you atop the altar, his lips never parting from your center. He works his mouth over your sensitive bundle of nerves, your back lifts from the altar as he fucks his tongue into you, holding your legs over his shoulders. You moan and shake, body practically upside down, the blood rushing to your head. Jimin's skillful tongue brings you to the edge of ecstasy, stopping before you ascend.

“Please, don't stop,” you plead.

“Give your soul to me and I'll never stop giving you pleasure. I'll be yours forever.”

“Yes! Please!”

“You sure little lamb? Tell me how badly you want me.”

“Yes! I want you, Jimin, I need you!”

“You'll give up your soul all for me?”

“Yes!”

You sealed your fate, giving into your lust. Jimin had you now and for all eternity.

“Your soul, your body, your cunt is mine.”

“Yes, yes!”

---

Your body shakes, covered in sweat, your legs spread wide while Jimin rolls his hips. You lie on your back, naked, moaning his name. Jimin digs his nails into your sides, pulling you over his thick cock, rattling the altar table as he defiles your body over and over again.

You lost count how many times you came on his cock, Jimin's demon body had never-ending stamina. He came over your thighs, painting your skin in white, and swiftly turned your body around, pressing his hard cock back inside your swollen cunt. Your body dragged along the table cloth, smearing your chest and stomach in a pool of cum.

You cum violently, screaming, shaking around his cock. Jimin fucks into you, in and out, never stopping.

“You belong to me, y/n,” he growls, pistoning into you rapidly, “Tell me!”

“I belong to you!”

He thrusts in deeply, pulling your head back, lifting your body flush against his chest. “And now that you're mine, I'd like you to meet my friends,” he whispers into your ear.

He smiles against your clammy skin as your eyes scan the room. Appearing from the shadows, six men stand, handsome faces darkly watching you fall apart on Jimin’s cock.

“We can give you all the pleasures of life,” he whispers. You recognize the face of one of the men, the organ player who meets your eyes and smirks at you, licking his lips, eyes roaming over your naked cum covered body.

Even as your mind went blank, the cost of your sinfulness weighed heavy on your heart.

Your Christmas prayers had been answered, but you were now trapped in this desolate town forever.

---

Next Christmas story will be more uplifting, I promise :’D

Naughty Girl Christmas Masterlist

---

seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay. 

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.” 

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in. 

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot. 

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top. 

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette. 

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

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JK | The Wolf Within You

word count: 2.2k

Summary: Arranged marriages always seemed to be so boring on the outside. A treaty pairing the two wolf clans together was the only reason you and Jungkook got married in the first place. But once you saw the little omega shy away from you, holding onto his sleeves for dear life, you knew your marriage was going to be anything but boring.

Paring: Omega!Jungkook x Alpha!Reader

Genre: supernatural!au, arranged marriage!au, smut, some fluff

Rating: 18+

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!jk, pwp, vaginal sex, oral sex (m), oversensitivity, orgasm denial, reader is a little minx, repeated orgasms, bondage, jealousy, use of the word “slut” once, pain!kink, humiliation!kink, marking!kink, biting, hickeys, blood, praises, begging

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Standing above your dear husband sends a thrill through you. Him clawing at his retrains, cock hard and free but with no way to relieve himself. It’a a beautiful sight. And he is beautiful with all your past markings upon his skin, the ones you carved out with your teeth and claws to remind him who he belongs too.

If anyone were to tell you a year ago you would enjoy being married, you would have laughed in their faces. You only got married because it was your duty as the head alphas daughter to marry an omega from another clan. You remember screaming, pleading with your father not to marry you off to some random omega. Men always - even omegas - found a way to use you.

Vanilla sex wasn’t your thing, and you often found yourself in the bed of omegas that felt the same. But you knew not every person, especially other wolves, were like that. They saw a young female like you and wanted to claim you, defile you, ruin you and make you their submissive.

You wanted none of that, and thinking that would be your life if you were forced to marry made your blood boil with hate. It wasn’t until you actually met the omega, that your whole outlook on the idea changed.

Jeon Jungkook, your husbands name is. A virgin at the time, and one that was shyer then a bunny being cornered by a bigger animal. Seeing him, you happily gave your vows, and on the night of your wedding you taught him just how wonderful your life together was going to be. Exactly how it is now.

Him underneath you, looking like the bunny you referenced earlier, and you the big bad wolf stalking to eat him up. You lick your lips, excitement coursing through you as you think of all the ways you’ll be mating your husband tonight.

Keep reading

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