Vixen -> Jjk

vixen -> jjk

summary: you’re struggling with your heat, and your owner’s friend brings over his sweet border collie jungkook to help. 

pairing: jungkook x female reader 

genre: hybrid au, smut

rating: NSFW 18+

word count: 2k +

warning tags:  fox hybrid!reader, dog hybrid!jk, cunnilingus, dom!jk, sub!reader, doggy style (lmao), drooling, mentions of breeding and mating, knot knot knot :>

a/n: idk lol. also i’m starting to get confused between who wants to be tagged in all my fics or who wants to be tagged in my mating call series; i’m so new to being a tumblr author lmao. it’s been so hard to organise LOL so sorry if i don’t tag you in this and you wanted a tag! also you can turn on post notifications on my blog for mobile and you will be updated every time i post as well ^.^

next ->

masterlist

✿——————————✿

“Thank you so much for doing this, Hobi…” You can hear your owner, Jimin’s voice muffled through the walls of your bedroom. He has you locked in there, a complete mess. Your tail sways lightly at the sound of his voice, your ear pressed up against the door to hear clearer. “She would not stop humping my leg.” Your cheeks turn beet red at his unnecessary comment. Did he have to tell the guests about your little problem? It’s not like you could help it! You loved Jimin, he took very good care of you, but you didn’t love him like that.  

You just couldn’t seem to get rid of the need to release, no matter how many times you make yourself cum. You were humping everything, not just his leg. Other victims included the edge of the bathtub, table corners your pillows and your hairbrush. Nothing was helping. 

So, that’s when Jimin calls Hobi over, wondering if his own hybrid was willing to meet you. Typically, only hybrids of the same species can breed, so having Hoseok’s dog hybrid mate with you wasn’t too alarming with what was known of hybrids. There was still a small chance you could get pregnant, but it was a lot lower because the two of you were different species. 

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Before I Leave You (Pt.31)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Taehyung thinks that girl dates are better than regular ones, but she could just be biased because it’s a date with you.

Pairings: Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin, Beta! Yoongi,

Tags: wlw, lesbian love story, fluff, first kisses, mild sexual content, hurt/comfort, brief nudity, best friends to lovers, gender euphoria, trans! Taehyung, referenced passed eating disorders, body dysmorphia, gender dysphoria, transphobia, misgendering,  transgender slurs, discussions on femininity, brief violence warning, 

W/c: 11.6k

A/n: this is for the lesbians <3 i hope that everyone whose never had a happy shopping experience can dream of themselves in this slice of heaven with tae and the m/c <3 i think in many ways, their love is so innocent and genuine. they really are best friends~

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Tae doesn’t realize that this outing is more for her than for you until you’re deep within the confines of the store.

It’s extensive; endless isle of pretty pastels and cotton fabrics that promise sweetness with every stitch. It’s a good thing that Tae is well used to ignoring the constant wound of her gender and ignoring what she wants even when it’s right in front of her face. Otherwise she might let her overactive heart and imaginative mind get the better of her. 

Tae feels hot, and vaguely itchy, the unpleasant smell of too many people and industrial strength detergent hovers heavy on the air.

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Ghosted

OT7 x Reader

Summary 

Y/N is a young struggling author in New York, having gone through thick and thin she loses her inspiration to write and is now no longer able to publish upcoming novels. Having just received an eviction notice to her small, old, and worn down apartment. She also receives documents informing her about the inheritance she’s received from her grandfather. An old, abandoned mansion in France's countryside. Having no other option available to her, she decides to move into the ominous building. Unaware of the seven pairs of eyes observing her, invisible to the human eye, as a plot to relieve a curse plaguing seven men is set into motion.

Part 1, Part 2

Y/N hated the rain, the subtle trickling down bus windows or the small patting noise it made whenever it hit the concrete streets of New York. Whenever tourists visit the concrete jungle that was this city, many people tend to forget the less modern and lavish part of the state. East Harlem for instance, which is exactly where Y/N lived. Going up the steps of her apartment, grabbing her key and opening her door. She glanced at the mail that had been haphazardly thrown onto her floor, bending down to pick it up before locking the door. A small, heavy sigh left her lips as she looked at her apartment. Small little droplets had begun seeping through the ceiling, puddles beginning to form on her wooden floors. Without much to say, she walked over to the sink and opened its bottom cabinet. Grabbing the few buckets and bowls she usually stored there for this exact problem, she quickly set up her apartment to be rain appropriate before flopping onto the couch. 

“I need a break.” She muttered, feeling bitter about how awful her day had been. Not only did she get yelled at by some elderly women at the grocery store for something she didn't even do, her manager scolded her afterwards as well. To make matters even worse, it had begun raining while she was heading home from work, making her apartment cold and wet. 

If only she still had time to write, but there was nothing she had left. Money was certainly tight at the moment, and she's barely even been able to pay rent. There wasn’t much time left to write. Loosely letting her eyes skim over the few letters in her hand, her eyebrows knitted together as she opened a letter from her landlord. An eviction notice greeting her rather casually, she could just imagine her landlord's grin as she sent off the letter. 

On a more convenient note, a letter from her father was also present. It was packed with information, condolences, inheritance, and a plane ticket to France. Having read the letter, Y/N grieved the loss of her grandfather. He was a very busy man, and they only shared memories from when she was young. But those sweet, short moments, she held close to her heart. Her father must’ve predicted her hesitance to visit her grandfather's manor, which she had inherited, so he had been adamant on her not wasting the money he spent on the plane ticket. 

“It's better than this dump..” It was easier to just move on then to cling to certain aspects of her life. It wasn’t like her apartment and life was worth staying for. With her decision being final, the next few days moved on like a blur. 

She gave in her final notice to her current employer, talked to her landlord, and packed her belongings. It wasn't much, mostly because she didn't own much. Everything she got could fit into one, large navy blue suitcase. One of those add-on strap buckles wrapped securely around it, sure most people used shell suitcases now but this one was a clear hand me down. Having given her luggage away, she went through the security check without a complaint. Now sitting at her terminal, she tapped her boots together as she stared at them.

Everything was changing now, whether she liked to admit that or not. New people, new friends and enemies. It was both an exciting and utterly terrifying feeling, stepping directly into the unknown. The thought brought a heaviness to her shoulders, her body almost insisting to stay seated in the thin leathery seats provided by each terminal.  But then it became boarding time, and her body was still frozen in its place. “Now boarding group C, everyone in group C please come to the front so we may proceed with boarding.” A honeyed voice called out through the speakers, with a glance to her side it wouldn’t have taken a genius to see the fakeness in her tone and smile. She almost felt sorry for her, having to travel in small platform heels, a tight skirt, and cheery red lipstick that no doubt smudged onto her teeth every now and then. All the while her hair was tied into such a tight bun it practically gave her a face lift, it must be the most euphoric feeling to be able to take everything off once their shifts are over. 

“Last call for group C!” The stewardess called out once more, which was the last encouragement she needed to finally get up. Her brown backpack hanging loosely off her left shoulder, she grabbed her phone and scanned her boarding pass before entering the plane. Once seated and her bag snuggly stored underneath the seat in front of her, she turned to look out the window. Mentally preparing for a seven hour flight, she adjusted her neck pillow, pulled her sleeping mask over her eyes, and put on her headphones. Then, she dozed off to sleep.

“Miss.. excuse me, Miss?” A sweet voice called out to her, followed by someone carefully shaking her shoulder. Waking up from her sleep, Y/N was quick to pull her sleeping mask off to look towards the stewardess who had woken her. “Pardon me Miss, but please put your seat up as we prepare for landing.” The woman hummed, before continuing to walk down the aisle. Landing? Oh, right. She had fallen asleep earlier, but she usually never slept through her entire flight. With a sigh, she put up her seat and packed up while they lowered onto French soil. Landing was always the worst part of traveling, if the unbearable pain in her ears wasn’t enough the unmanageable screeching from nearby toddlers and babies wasn’t exactly her favourite either. But with a bump to the plane, its wheels finally touched the ground as the pilot hit the breaks. A few minutes afterwards, people were finally allowed to leave. Grabbing her bag and proceeding to get her suitcase, Y/N eventually stood outside of the airport. 

The good part about busy airports is the designated line for taxis, no one had to compete or call out for one. It was a rather organized affair really, giving the address of her destination while putting her luggage in the trunk, she was soon off on her way to her new home. 

Three short yet utterly agonizing hours later, Y/N paid her taxi driver before getting out of the car. Heaving a heavy breath of fresh air, she rested her hands on her knees as she crouched over. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick…” She muttered, taking a few minutes before finally straightening up. Her eyes finally got the chance to travel along the unfamiliar landscape, a large metal gate standing in front of here. It was partially overgrown by vines who had wrapped themselves around the iron bars, growing more dense where the gate met two stone pillars. “Gosh, why did they let this place get so run down?” 

Sure, Grandpa was fairly old and couldn't exactly take care of the gardening himself, but didn’t he hier gardners? Pushing the gate open, it let out a horrible high-pitched whine, the joints probably being rusted. Now having entered the property, a stone pebbled path leads towards the entrance of the manor. A wide circle leaving room for a water fountain in its center, but a few steps closer revealed an algae soaked paradise instead of a lavish status symbol. “Gross.” 

Y/N scrunched up her nose, walking past the entrance and finally pushing open the two large mahogany front doors. Her hopes about the front yard being the only place neglected soon vanished as her eyes soaked up the sight of her surroundings. Furniture was covered in long white linen sheets, while dust covered the floor like a soft blanket. “Grandpa, when did you last step foot into this place, wasn’t this your home?” Odd. That’s how she’d describe her new home, the floorboards creaked occasionally, and her soft footsteps echoed throughout the entire manor. Exploring was her new objective, abandoning her luggage by the entrance hall, she walked down one of the halls to her left. 

Perhaps it was just the dirty atmosphere, but something felt unnerving about walking around. Her gut tugged itself into knots as she discovered the kitchen, dining hall, a storage closet, and a few other abandoned rooms. Her bedroom seemed to be on the second floor, a grand staircase covered in red carpet leading towards the next layer of her home. The house had an odd number of rooms, places that seemed to lack from her childhood memory. Returning to her luggage, she dragged her suitcase up the stairs and into her new bedroom. “With a little care, I’m sure this place will grow more comfortable in no time.” She sighed, rolling up her sleeves as she walked over to her balcony doors. Swinging them open carelessly, the view of the back garden was just as saddening as the front. 

It looked disastrous, as if someone had meant to restore a wild habit for some jungle animal. But with the chirping of the birds, their distant singsong voices dancing around her garden, the evening breeze kissing her skin. She smiled, an odd welcomed peacefulness washing over her. “Better leave now before it gets too late.” She muttered, swinging around and closing the glass doors behind her. Shuffling through her bag to grab her wallet, she made her way towards the door. 

A freezing, sudden flash of wind hit her. Her skin flaring into a display of goosebumps as she swung around, her eyes locked on the sight of the closed balcony windows. As fast as the feeling appeared, it vanished just as quickly. “I'm starting to freak myself out.”  She shuddered, rubbing her arms as she walked out of her room and down the halls. The lingering feelings of being watched made her uneasiness grow, all the horror movies she’s seen now replaying in her mind. 

“Stop it! The wind was just a draft from the balcony, stop freaking yourself out Y/N.” She coached herself, continuing to walk. The walls seemed to linger after her, her steps quickening as she hurried down the stairs and swung open the front door. She let out a breath of relief as she was outside, hurrying off to leave the property for now. Making her way down the gravel streets as she walked into town, it wasn’t even comparable to the hectic life in New York, but the calmness of the evening seemed almost reassuring.

Small couples were taking their evening walk, mostly edler people if she inspected them closer, chatting contently to their significant other. They waved, the sight of an unfamiliar face most likely being connected to a newcomer. Compared to her home, the town looked so neatly organized, bushes being trimmed to a subtle state of perfection, flowers being arranged to show how complementary their colors were. It looked magnificent. 

Further down the street, there was a decently sized grocery store Y/N was glad to enter. She grabbed a few necessities, such as food and drinks before being held up in the cleaning aisle. The place was an utter mess, so she definitely had to get something reusable. Her hand rested on her chin, her foot tapping onto the floor anxiously as she pondered over her options. 

“I’ve never seen someone look so seriously at a bunch of cleaning products.” A honeyed, but rather raspy voice commented, amusement evident in her tone. Looking to her side to follow the voice, a gentle looking elderly woman greeted her. Her back was slightly hunched, a small floral dress covering her while her short grey hair put into neat curls. 

“Oh, I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do. I’ve just moved in and the place is a mess.” She smiled, looking at the woman who covered her mouth with her gloved hand to hide her giggle. “Oh dear, it seems like you have your hands full. Well, let me give you a suggestion if you don’t mind. I’ve had to clean up my fair share of messes too,” She chuckled, as if a memory flashed before her that was deeply amusing. “This mop is great for wooden floors and tiles, and this duster is washable so you can reuse it too. For actual cleaners..” She mumbled, walking further along the aisle while Y/N moved to pick out the suggested items and add them to her cart. “These ones will do, they’ve even managed to get rid of the messes my grandson makes.” She hummed, and added them to the cart as well. 

“Thank you, this is my first time owning a home so I really appreciate the help.” Y/N hummed, smiling at the kind lady. “Oh well, welcome to our humble town. It might not be much, but the people really share a sense of community here. I'm sure a little fine missy such as yourself will fit right in.” The woman giggled, “What street do you live on now? My house on Oakland is always open to visitors. I’m sure my grandson will be stoked to meet you!” She smiled, while you couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of her trying to hook you up.

A polite smile grazed your lips, “Thank you, I’ll be sure to visit soon then. I live on Grand Rue.” 

As if you had said something awful, the ladys bright sunny expression was now clouded. A look of deep unsettlement tugging at her lips, a seriousness washing over her that deeply unsettled you. “Oh my, I didn’t know they let anyone live there.” She mumbled, scanning over you rather quickly. “My dear, please take care of yourself. That please is rumored too..” She trailed off, as if a mental dilemma sparked inside her. Whether to warn you or let you return to your home in peace. 

But the seeds of anxiousness had already bloomed within you, and your curious eyes wouldn’t dare to waver now. “Rumored to?” You inferred, wanting her to go on.

“Be haunted.” The elderly woman whispered. 

Huh, you couldn’t help but lean back with a sigh. You had expected something more, well, frightening. Like a murder or missing person report, but you didn’t believe in ghosts. There was a scientific explanation for everything, at least that’s what you told yourself. 

“Oh, I’ll be careful then.” You hummed, waving the woman off as you rushed to the checkout. As much as you had liked interacting with the kind woman, she clearly had some screws loose to act so horrified by some simple rumors. 

Paying for your items and carrying your bags up the streets towards your home, the sun was beginning to set. Cooling the air and covering everything in an orange hue, a rather pretty sight. By the time you had arrived at the front gate, you once again push open the doors and glance at your home. 

The unfamiliar sight of yellow lights illuminating your bedroom strikes a sense of uneasiness deep into your core. You don’t remember leaving the lights on. 

All That Glitters | Jimin x Reader

Pairing: Soft(ish) Yandere Jimin x  Reader 

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Blood, Abandonment Issues, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jimin), Tsundere Reader, Insinuation of Smut (It’s spicy just not very descriptive),Bullying 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: With the sudden news that you are set to inherit a fortune after the passing of a distant relative you are ready to become an heiress. The only problem is that there is a clause in the contract: in order to receive your inheritance you must be married. So, who better to marry than your high school stalker?

A/N: It’s 3 in the morning and I’m exhausted. This is still the condensed version of the fic. I should have just made it a two part series. Let me know if you would prefer I cut this fic in half and post them as two parts, whatever is more digestible. THIS IS UNEDITED - I will edit it today after I get some sleep so please bare with me and the most likely embarrassing grammar mistakes. Okay, I love you, I can’t wait to see you in the comments and my inbox 💜💜💜

Note: It is not specified where the fic takes place, the school system suggests South Korea but the MC’s job suggests America (the job is a vent piece about my old job) so let’s pretend this stupid car wash chain exists in SK 😂

You let out a deep, tired sigh as you toed your shoes off. Everything was hurting from the arches of your feet to the bend of your shoulders. 

Each day had become utterly boring and utterly the same. It had been another long day of work, longer than you had ever imagined in your youth. When you were younger you had expected so much more of yourself. You had thought by now, at the ripe age of twenty-six, you would have had a high power career, an apartment with a view of the city, and perhaps a boyfriend…or two. 

But life had punched you square in the gut and body slammed you with a reality check. You had spent four years in undergrad slowly accumulating mass amounts of student debt before deciding you hadn’t had enough and wasted four more years in graduate school. You had been lulled into a false sense of comfort. All your life you had been told that you were to go to college, get a degree, and then get a “real” job. You had been dismayed to learn that despite all of your efforts you never secured a job for yourself after graduation. 

In fact, even now you didn’t have the job you had worked so hard for. Instead, you were busting your ass working a minimum wage job catering to ungrateful customers who had been fortunate enough to enter the job market twenty or even thirty years before you who all believed that they deserved your undivided attention and service. 

You were just barely managing nowadays. Your apartment was more of a closet than an apartment. Everything was confined to one room, kitchen, dining, and bedroom, all except for the bathroom. You had a faucet that never stopped leaking and the oddest stains on the wall that you refused to question anymore. To put it plain and simple, you were fucking miserable. 

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cry me a river | the game of chess

— summary: everything’s burned down into flames and all that’s left is you right in the center, unable to escape

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.3k

— warnings: slight violence

— part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

— masterpost

He takes you in his arms, a hand on your back, the other under your knees, and picks you up effortlessly. You fall limply against him, head resting against his chest, eyes closed tight, the tremor no longer as prominent as it had been when you reached out to him, pleading a silent cry of help because your legs could no longer support your body up. 

Mingyu watches you carefully for a moment, brows knitted slightly together upon the sight of red around your neck and the weariness which lies on your face.

You’re tired. Drained. And he wishes he had the power to take all your pains away in a heartbeat but the world doesn’t work like that and you’re left to suffer your own wounds alone.

When he looks up to find your previous lovers watching your limp body held in his arms, he questions what goes on in their heads.

Are they worried? Angry? Upset?

They caught you in a moment of weakness, something he knows you will most definitely come to grow angry with yourself for, and found out a secret you had hidden away in your heart to stay. As compared to everything you’ve gone through, they only know so much, but how does finding out the lover that they threw away had suffered through something they never knew about make them feel?

Daejung had scarred you physically and mentally and being in that room with him, being made a laughing stock, he wonders how they view you at this moment right here.

Mingyu turns around from their hard gazes, refusing to let their eyes linger on you any longer because he knows that they don’t deserve to feel concerned. Not after everything they’ve done to you. He still doesn’t know the complete story, perhaps he never will, but he knows enough to understand that among the living hell you walked through, they betrayed your trust and left you to fall.

He walks away from the scene, a tense silence filling the air saved by the sound of his footsteps walking down the hall.

Yuna opens the doors for him to get out once he’s made his way through and Dasom holds an umbrella over the two of you. Under the sound of the heavy rain, the three of them walk side by side in silence, brows heavily knitted together, while you remain unconscious in Mingyu’s arms.

.

.

.

A blink in the wake, a blur in the eyes, before you can finally adjust to the light in the room. Your head falls heavy, a shot of ache against your temple when you sit up, and as you feel around your neck, you find white bandages wrapped around them.

The memories of what had happened flash in your head just as vividly as it was when you faced Gwon Daejung head-on, letting you know just how well your mind will refuse to let go of it any time soon.

This was what you feared; remembering the very things that you’ve buried away long ago.

Yet how do you think you can possibly go on to live a life of freedom if you can’t face the enemies of your past? You can’t. You have to get rid of every last one of them. Staring at the invisible shackles that wrap around your wrists, you fear the things you will have to face.

If meeting Daejung made you this much of a mess, you wonder how it will be when you meet the others. Your hands tremble beside you when you think about it, hating every last second of it as the sound of rain falls prominent outside the windows. The room you’re in is bright as compared to the outside world yet when you turn to look outside, you feel as if you belong there and not here.

But then again, what difference does your room make as compared to the darkness of the outside world? It’s dark both inside and out.

Ah, you don’t like it. You don’t like it at all.

You try to call out for someone, a name, yet nothing comes out as if your voice is stuck against your very own throat, and the memories of Daejung’s hands wrapped around your neck flashes back.

You ball your hands into fists, brows furrowed, head lowered. Why are you so weak? Why are you so damn weak?

You throw the blankets off you and rush to try and walk out of your room. But you don’t get even a footstep in when your legs give in underneath you, failing miserably, and you find yourself sat right on the floor beside your bed.

Weak again.

“You are not allowed to be weak,” you hear your father’s voice in the back of your head. “If you show me any signs of weakness, I will kill you right now. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

Oh, you knew he would. He’d kill you in a heartbeat.

Once he came to know of your potential, your strength, your ability to listen and heed his every word, your lack of hesitation to kill a man for him while carrying all the scars there were to carry in order to get stronger, he grew even more powerful as his role of the puppeteer.

You were his doll to control, his puppet.

And there was nothing that you did to go against him.

You stare at the floor mindlessly, body hunched over, head lowered, with your hands right beside your head, trembling hard.

Daejung. Daejung. Daejung.

He’s dead. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you. He never did for years after your escape but for the longest time, he remained in your head, mentally draining you for nights on end. 

Just four days. You stayed with him for four days and he remained scarred in your heart for the rest of your life. How many more people will you have to prepare to face? How many more are there left for you to get rid of? You don’t want to face them. Ah, you don’t want to face them.

You reach out as if someone will be there to catch it, as if there will be someone you can hold onto when you feel as if everything is falling apart and nothing is going right.

You reach out, and feel someone take hold of it.

“Y/N.” You look up with a bit of shock, not expecting someone to catch your hands, but there he is, the very man who kept you warm for the longest time without ever leaving your side.

“I’m cold, Mingyu,” you tell him like a needy little child, crawling into his arms as if seeking out the warmth from the love of her parents. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you. 

How many years has it been since Mingyu first reached out to you? When he held his arms around you, transferring his warmth onto you when you shivered in his presence? For the longest time he had always been the one to make the first move as any caring older sibling would, selflessly keeping you warm in his arms, never one to force you to speak a word when you fell silent. You don’t remember when you first sought out him, for his comfort, his hearth, but you remember Mingyu always being there whenever you needed him.

He was always there.

You let your ear fall against the beat of his heart, wanting to steady yourself, to feel composed again because you hate feeling out of control, you hate it when the world gets the best of you.

“I can’t control it,” you tell him in a whisper, desperately trying to search for some sort of answer to tell you what to do, and right now only Mingyu is in your line of sight. “I can’t control it,” you repeat again, stronger, more frantic, as your hands tremble against his blazer, clenching onto them tightly as you look up at him for answers.

He remains calm, a somewhat exasperated sigh leaving his lips with a small rueful smile looking down at you. “Sure you can. You’ve done it for years,” he reminds you kindly.

But you shake your head, hating this more than ever. “Because father forced me to and now..now that father’s gone…Now that he’s gone, I don’t know how to—”

Mingyu takes ahold of both your shoulders when you begin to stray away, eyes frantically searching the room, and brings you back to focus on him. “Do not rely on your father, Y/N. He is not your control, he is your disorder.”

Your disorder.

Disorder.

Disorder.

“But that’s all I know, Mingyu.” You speak those words like a plea, a prayer to take you out of his cuffs, to set you free from him, because you know that no matter what happens, you will never be able to truly let go of your father. A part of you will always be with him just as a part of him will always remain with you.

Why did you have to love him so desperately when you were younger? Why did you always crave for his love and attention? He never cared, never batted an eye your way. Only when he found you useful, a pawn, were you met with those eyes of his. It was toxic but you held onto those eyes, those eyes that found you and kept you chained up as a puppet in his hands.

As long as he paid attention to you, you wanted to be of use to him in any way possible.

Seokjin taught you to hold your head up high, to never shake before others underneath you.

Yoongi taught you beauty and kindness hidden behind an unmovable strength.

Hoseok taught you to rest, to rely on others, and that a single embrace would be enough to dispel all exhaustion and suffering.

Jimin taught you to free yourself from rules and laws, to enjoy in the moment and revel in its thrill.

Taehyung taught you to let go, to release yourself from the tensions, to let the tears flow not just when you needed it but when you wanted to.

Jungkook taught you innocence and vulnerability concealed underneath a hard exterior.

And Namjoon taught you to be the calm in the storm. He taught you control, he taught you power. He taught you how to stand before a crowd even if you were never successful in practice. He taught you that while it was important to conceal your emotions before others, it was just as important to let your walls down before your most trusted ones.

He taught you the balance of controlling your emotions.

Now everything’s burned down into flames and all that’s left is you right in the center, unable to escape.

“All I know is disorder.” You whisper into the room once more, eyes rounding about as your hands tremble against the opening of Mingyu’s blazer. “I can’t be perfect. I can never be perfect. Not for him, not for me, not for anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to be perfect.” He stops you once more, holding onto both your hands as if taking the tremor for himself, to induce control, to show you a sturdy foundation that you were never allowed to rely on. “When you shake, Y/N, when you tremble, I will be your control.” He squeezes your hands that are wrapped around his own, face written with a firm and strong expression so transient, so beautiful. “So be the storm as much as you’d like, whether you can help it or not, and I will be your calm.”

The world falls heavy against your shoulders, darkness surrounding your every corner. Even in this very room which shelters itself from the crying storm outside, you still feel as if you are a part of the rain.

But here is Mingyu, letting you lean against him, falling into your storm despite the fact that he can easily escape it if he really wanted to. But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t run, he doesn’t leave.

Just like Yuna.

Just like Dasom and Yeonjun and the rest of the Reapers that have kept by your side since the day you saved them.

Mingyu holds you steady and the tremor in your body begins to weaken little by little. You feel your heartbeat slowly settling, though you know that a storm still resides there, not wanting to ever leave. In the darkness of your heart, the storm which seems to only grow day by day, he is your calm, he is your control.

Almost like a soulmate. A platonic soulmate.

The grip you had against his clothes falls and you let your head rest against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

You can do this. You can control your ire, your fears, your weaknesses that wishes to unveil you. You can regain control once again.

You can regain control.

Two knocks against your door and you hear familiar footsteps walking right in but you remain still in Mingyu’s arms.

“We may have a problem, boss,” Yuna alerts with a careful approach. “Mr. Kim would like to discuss it with you. He’s sent a letter in and asked of you to visit him when you woke.”

You sigh. “What’s the problem?”

“Close allies of Daejung couldn’t handle his assassination so—”

“So they figured it out.”

“It is only speculations at the moment.”

You let yourself fall silent and nothing but the sound of the storm outside can be heard. For a long while you sit there doing absolutely nothing, while a mess of darkness scribbles all throughout your mind, wanting to take you in.

You listen to Mingyu’s heartbeat.

A second.

Two.

Three.

And your eyes shift from that desperate little girl to a void of emotions, a blanket of boredom, blankness, and bland masking your face.

You sit up a little straighter to grab a light sheet of blanket off your bed and wrap it around yourself, not ever leaving Mingyu’s lap. “Speculations or not, they’ll still try to come after me.” You take a long look at your legs for a moment, wondering if you can stand up well but eventually give up to look up at Mingyu. “Carry me.”

He hesitates initially. “You need more time to—”

“I don’t need time. I’m fine.”

So when worrying doesn’t work, Mingyu resorts to narrowing his gaze at you, returning to his usual playful self because anything else will anger you. “Surely you can walk on your own, kid. I’m not your slave.”

“You sure look like one. How long have I been out?” You deadpan.

He looks away with hesitation. “...Three days.”

“You know I hate sleeping and you left me unconscious for that long. My legs are weak.”

Mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh as he goes to stand with you in his arms, knowing not to argue with you because he knows he always loses. “Yes, yes, your highness.”

“Your legs aren’t that weak, are they?” You hear the worry in Yuna’s voice. “Should I call for a doctor?”

“No,” you shake your head although Yuna cannot see it. “I can walk on my own if I try, this is just Mingyu’s punishment.”

The older gentleman simply rolls his eyes.

.

.

.

“You should have taken some more time to heal,” Namjoon says after Mingyu takes his leave upon being there to set you down.

You stare at him for a moment, thinking with nothing but a blank expression. You’re used to this, not resting after a hard mission even if your body had taken a toll from it. Father never allowed you to rest so you’ve managed to get better at getting right up once you finish a mission, ready for another one right away.

But you remember always reminding Namjoon and the others to rest when they could, to never push themselves against their limits, fretting over their injuries, scolding them when they went too far. You never understood the complexity of the mafia but you knew that not allowing your body to properly heal was important and that was that.

They grew to take care of themselves more because of you, learned to rest, learned to heal properly.

You never had someone to remind you of such things because even when your loyal secret Reapers tried, what would be the point in listening to them when your father’s words were law? He stood above everyone, threatening your life while you held on by a piece of thread.

“You don’t matter. Get up and fight even if you have to die.”

His words were law.

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissing Namjoon’s concern with a turn of your head to the side, catching sight of the outside through the window. “I hear I might be wanted now,” you say nonchalantly with no emotions on your face or tone. “Do they know you’re involved?”

“There’s a high chance I will be linked with you, being as I’m allied with you and Mr. Gwon. Gwon was never one to choose his allies casually after all.”

“You knew the risks when accepting my request, didn’t you? I presume you’ve already chosen a side, then.”

“Well, you did promise me information on my brother.”

“Right.”

Now isn’t the time though and Namjoon knows that. “What do you plan on doing?” He asks, his eyes staring pointedly your way.

You give him a simple answer. “Take out whoever tries to come after me.”

“You do understand there are many risks to that, don’t you?”

“Oh don’t worry. My next target is another man allied to Daejung so the situation is actually rather helpful,” you tell him nonchalantly as you take a sip of the drink before you. “They’ll come after me and I’ll get rid of them just like how I got rid of Daejung.”

Namjoon sits there for a second, his eyes narrowing as he realizes something. “You have this all planned out from the very beginning, don’t you?”

“Everyone is linked to something, Namjoon, including you and I. Taking out the first target is what brings everyone together, just like how you came back into my life after I killed my father. Though of course, I never expected to meet you there at the time.”

“So you intended to meet eventually.”

“I need your power,” you tell it straight to his face, eyes peeking over the porcelain cup in your hand. “Just like how I was used in your game of chess, I’m making my use of you now. Position and power matter after all, and without influence, a strong and ambitious hero is nothing but another sidekick. Who gets the recognition in the end? The hero who took hold of the people’s hearts and minds. And the sidekick? They simply get kicked off to the curb and will always be second to the hero. That’s why so many heroes turn into villains.”

Villains.

Every villain has a story, a tragic past that caused them to become the person that they are. They never chose the path, life forced their hands.

And now here you are, playing the role of a villain who may never return to the light. What’s so bad about being a villain anyway? They always get what they want while the hero remains a people pleaser and will always need that validation from others in order to remain relevant. So what happens when those people turn against them and no longer approve of them?

They fall.

Just the way you did.

On your knees, begging for attention, begging for love. Namjoon was right about one thing, it was quite shameless of you to do such a thing. A shameless little fool who didn’t know when to stop, who was so desperate for love she needed others to keep her at bay in order to remain stable. A shameless fool who was too stupid to realize no one stays forever.

They will always leave in the end.

Just like they did.

“Thank you for being one of those people who made me realize that,” you set the cup onto the table, eyes void of emotions even as the corners of your lips curl upwards. “You played your role well, Kim Namjoon. Being hurt by you made me realize a lot of things even though it took me some time. I won’t be blinded by false promises and hold onto false hope anymore.” You stand from your seat and ignoring the way it trembles slightly underneath you, you offer Namjoon something. “I’d like to show you something, if you have the time.”

He checks the watch on his wrist and stands. “One hour,” he states, and you begin to walk off with him not too far behind.

.

.

.

“My lady.” The second a man in a grey suit sees you, he is quick to lower his head in a respectful manner.

You whisper some words to him and he nods obediently before running off at your command. Meanwhile, Namjoon stands there, slight suspicion falling your way when you turn back to him, standing still. “He doesn’t belong to the mafia, does he?”

“I have loyal members outside of the darkness,” you tell him, “in case anything goes wrong and I need help elsewhere.” He looks around the building, observing the fancy white structure and when the man returns again, he holds a wooden box to you who takes it after a word of appreciation. 

“For you,” you say as you hand him the box when the man walks away.

Namjoon’s brows furrow with confusion. “Me?”

“I’ve kept them safe for all these years, hidden through people like him where my father was unable to get to.” You begin to walk towards an area that leads towards a large white balcony and Namjoon follows, staring at the box. “It belongs to your brother.”

He freezes for a moment, staring at you who leans her forearms against the balcony, eyes staring straight ahead as you let the wind flow through your hair.

His brother, you said. Whatever could be in here?

He opens the box carefully to find envelopes after envelopes on top of one another, each of them almost completely blank and without a name except for three little initials written on the bottom right corner.

KNJ.

None of them have been opened.

“He gave them to you?” Namjoon asks, looking up at you.

You shake your head. “I found them.”

The night of his murder, even though you were still shaken up pretty badly, you rummaged through Mister Butler’s belongings, quick to grab anything that looked important, and hid them away so your father couldn’t find them. Initially, that wasn’t hard. After all, no one ever comes into your room, hence that was the best place to hide it, but once you grew older and had a better understanding of things, once you learned to make an impact on people’s lives, you had his belongings sent away.

Far, far away from the manor.

Away from your father’s eyes.

Because there was no way he killed Mister Butler just because the two of you cared for one another. Maybe that was part of the reason but your father was too much of a wicked man to ever tell you the truth about his death.

To this day it’s still a mystery because even though you were the one who went through Mister Butler’s belongings, you never dared to ever look around and read through everything.

They were his things after all, his secrets.

You never dared to look into them.

“I assume he wrote those with no intent to send them to you,” you say, reminded of where you had found those letters. “They were all stuffed away, as if what he wrote were something like a diary to a brother he could no longer see.”

A diary written to a brother he could no longer see.

Why did he disappear with no intent to return?

Why?

Why?

If his father was here, he’d know the truth, force it out of him, but Namjoon knows more than anyone that would only harm him. Yet he falls so desperate to find out the truth behind his brother’s disappearance.

“What was he to you?” He asks, eyes hardening as he stares at you with accusation.

You ignore it to speak your truth. “A man I loved.” Namjoon’s brows furrow at your confession but you look over to the side to meet his eyes. “A father. A brother.”

“Did you know he belonged to another gang?”

“How could I have known? I was sheltered from a lot of things, remember?” You remind the man. “Whatever his purpose was to infiltrating the Reapers’ manor, the me then had no idea except for the fact that he was a kind man who always stood by my side.”

For a second there he can almost see the girl he knew then. Your eyes are gentle when you speak about his brother, softness in your words, tenderness in your expression. It’s subtle and you’d have to look very carefully but it’s there.

And for a moment he falls awestruck by how soft you look right now.

The wind which had been stronger moments ago slows down into a little more than a gentle zephyr. Your hair blows as the sun shines against the blush of your skin.

You used to be as soft as this — no, softer then — but even as the years have changed so much of you, the way you speak about his brother in such a manner, Namjoon knows not to mistake that with a false pretense.

Nothing about your expression is fake. You held onto his brother dearly and Namjoon wonders what happened in those years his brother had been your butler. What’s the story? What happened? And how did he disappear?

Suddenly he feels a dagger-like gaze from far away and his body automatically tenses up. A glance over his shoulder, the wooden box falling from his hands, and Namjoon’s quick to take your shoulder and hide you in his arms as a sharp pain pierce through his shoulder.

“Namjoon!” You gasp when he hurls over, a hand quick to clutch against the shoulder that had just gotten shot.

“Go.” He demands when you knelt down with alarm and upon his words, you quickly rush up to your feet and jump down from the balcony.

You land in a safe position, eyes scanning the area like a hawk and once you catch sight of a slip of a black figure, you’re flying past a few people and cars to catch up.

Only things don’t work too well in your favor as the strength in your legs weakens abruptly and your knees fail you as you fall hard onto the ground. You wince at the pain, realizing you’re still dealing with the aftermath of the fight with Daejung and just as you’re about to grunt with frustration, someone is quick to pick you up and run towards where the figure had run off to.

You don’t question Jungkook as you put one arm around his neck to keep yourself steady while the other reaches for the gun around your belt.

The man in black is just up ahead, running in a flash and into the woods as Jungkook keeps up with his pace. With your eyes keeping close contact with the flashing black through the greens and browns of the woods, you set your gun aiming at his figure, and in three seconds count, you pull the trigger and his figure disappears somewhere deeper in.

“I got him on the leg, let him go,” you speak into the intercom of your earpiece before patting Jungkook on the chest. “Let’s go back.”

“What? You’re gonna let him go?” He asks in disbelief.

“There’s a high chance he’ll be at the place I plan on going in a few days, I’ll take my revenge there,” you say. “In the meantime, your boss just got hurt so we should head..—ah,” you groan at the pain that pieces sharply against your leg, and Jungkook looks down with worry.

“Did he get you?”

You shake your head. “No, it was from the jump.”

“You’re still hurt from three nights ago, aren’t you?” He settles you down onto the ground and rolls up your dress pants to check on your leg. Thankfully it’s the left leg, thankfully he won’t have to see that scar left on your right leg from the night you pulled your ring out because you realized you deserved better. “You’re too reckless, Y/N.” You see the way his brows furrow when he finds your leg bandaged up but you still decided to jump from a balcony. “You’ve sustained injuries from Daejung so you shouldn’t be doing too much or else you’ll leave a permanent scar. Can you walk?” He asks as he goes to check your other leg but you’re quick to pull it back from him.

“No,” you say while refusing to meet his eyes.

You can feel his gaze on you but eventually, Jungkook sighs as he stands to carry you in his arms once more, this time to return to the building you left Namjoon in.

No words are exchanged from there, just an awkward silence you refuse to take away.

“You’re injured.” You point out blankly once the two of you have returned, finding your ex-husband on the steps waiting for you as Yoongi stands beside him, holding onto the wooden box that had fallen when he took the bullet from you.

Namjoon looks up with an observing stare at the way Jungkook’s carrying you. “And you can’t walk once more.”

You shrug when Mingyu walks up to you and Jungkook, his eyes a hard stare as he holds his hands out to take you back from Bangtan’s maknae. For some reason, silence fills the moment and they face off in a staring contest none of them are willing to back down from.

You sigh.

How childish.

And reach out for Mingyu, causing Jungkook’s brows to furrow a bit but he eventually willingly lets you go to your second in command. Once secure there, you face Namjoon once more.

“They were aiming for me, weren’t they?” When he nods to confirm your speculation, you think back on the man who had run hard for his life, brows furrowing as you wonder why he would recklessly do such a thing in the open air when you were literally in a meeting with another member of such an influential mafia. “Will you let me take care of this?”

“Seems you weren’t expecting this.”

You shrug. “I have my ways of working through things but whatever people do in response is a script I do not write up. I knew someone would strike out in public but for it to happen while you were with me is quite a surprise. Surely they know who you are, no?”

“It’s likely to confirm whose side I’m on.”

“Well then, I guess you’re as guilty as I now.” He shrugs. “You don’t regret it?” You ask, noting at his injury. “You do realize that associating with me will only bring you more conflict, no? I am now the public’s enemy.”

“I’m already head deep, Y/N.”

“Then if you’re up for it, in three days’ time, I will make my next move.”

He looks beyond the scenery, right into the woods where the man had run towards. “If you continue to keep this up, Y/N, you’ll eventually wear yourself out,” he says, noting the way you can’t even seem to walk on your own. “The way you’re going about things is dangerous.”

“My hit list is filled with powerful people, what did you expect? It’s not as if I asked to be associated with them,” you say with a lighthearted shrug. “And if you keep this facade up, eventually I might believe you’re actually worried about me.” With a pat against Mingyu’s shoulder, he begins walking away, leaving the scene so the two of you can climb into a black vehicle that had just pulled up for you.

The three that were left behind simply stare at the moving vehicle until it disappears into the distance.

.

.

.

“The invitation came as expected.”

You take the red envelope that Mingyu hands to you, a leg crossing over the other with a blank stare at the fancy golden letters spelling out your name. “Seems he really is a fool,” you utter as you read the content of the letter to make sure it was true. “Who in their right mind would send an invitation to the woman who killed one of his most important allies?” You laugh a little when you think about it. “He really plans to cage me in, huh?”

“Are you actually planning on involving Bangtan in this?”

You shrug at Mingyu’s question. “They’ll be invited to the party but whether they want to get involved is all on them. Whether they do or not does not change the fact that I plan on killing Jummy that night. Something tells me it’ll be a big headache though.”

“That man doesn’t hesitate to act out on his anger.”

You sigh when you think about it. “Well, it’ll be fun playing with his feelings for a while. Get ready.”

“Yes, boss.”

.

.

.

With a tight fitted black dress that almost hits the floor when you walk and a long slit upon your left leg, Hoseok cannot help but simply stare at the woman he sees walking into the room. Even in a crowded room that fits many guests who also have on their own formal gowns, you grab ahold of the room’s attention the second you step foot into the room.

Hair rested in a pretty updo, you let a hand gracefully swat the straying hair in the front, eyes looking up to scan the room and despite holding the attention of almost everyone in the room, you pay them no mind as you walk along, steps bold and unwavering, standing tall and proud without a blink to your eyes.

You’re so different from who you used to be then. You used to be more hesitant and meek, always seeking to instinctively hide behind others. You hated the attention that always seem to draw your way. After all, who can ever deny such attractive beauty? So you always kept your head down, eyes lowered, and kept to their sides whenever possible.

But now, whether you’re beginning to embrace the attention or not, he cannot tell, but you sure are handling it better than you did then. You’ve learned to stand on your own.

He can’t help but feel a little skip against the beat of his heart, proud of your newly found confidence.

“It’s only been three days but you seem to be walking well again.” When you approach him, Hoseok doesn’t hesitate to offer you a drink. The two of you fall under the attention of others but decide to ignore them. After all, everyone at this point understands you to be Daejung’s murderer.

You take the champagne glass, swirling it well for a moment as your brows furrow slightly. “I’m not too fond of these types of dresses,” you admit with a scowl.

He chuckles a little. “Well, it does suit you rather well.”

“Careful, your boyfriends might get mad at you if they were to hear such compliments made to me.”

He shrugs with a slight roll of his eyes. “They’ll get over it.”

When you look at him, you wonder how Hoseok dealt with the aftermath of your leaving. He had been the only one who seemed to care until the very end, while the rest of them let you be when Namjoon decided to stop being the good husband he once was. They all grew distant except for Jung Hoseok who had no idea what was even happening outside the room he had been hospitalized in.

It was you who grew distant with him.

You wanted to hold onto hope, to him, but knew it was impossible when it came to such a relationship, so you had to let him go.

“Why?” He would repeat that question. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Sounding so broken and hurt, angry but his anger was never intended to be directed your way. Hoseok could never get angry, not with you, not ever.

He was angry at himself, for not being there for you, for not being enough, for not knowing. He was angry at the boys who decided to let you go. He was angry at everyone but you, begging and pleading that somehow, in some way, things would be okay again.

But it was too late for that. You had made your decision, deciding to free yourself from them and to return to the dreaded hellhole you were so used to.

A part of you always wondered what could have happened were you to give in to his words and give it another chance but even the you then understood that nothing could be done to save your relationship. It was already too late, whether you and Hoseok wanted to admit it or not.

You wonder if he fought for you. He probably did.

You wonder if he punched any of them. He probably did.

You wonder how long he loved you until he eventually gave up. You wonder how they made up, if the rest of them find him suspicious in some ways now that you’re back, whether they question his feelings, whether he still loves you or not.

No.

It’ll do you no good to have such intrusive thoughts.

The past is done, you’re over it.

You’re over it.

“Well, well, well.” The two of you look up to find the man of the hour who approaches you with a sly little grin as he holds his arms out, and you straight up, eyes staring him down with your guard up. “Seems you were shameless enough to attend this party in honor of Mr. Gwon.”

You know he’s trying to humiliate you, to have you cornered and stared down by the crowd but you don’t give him the benefit. “Isn’t it more shameless to invite the woman who’s the cause for this dreaded party to exist in the first place?”

“So you admit to your crime.”

You shrug. “Why hide it when everyone already knows? That’d be quite foolish of me. It would seem as if I regretted my decision in eliminating him.”

Jummy’s brows crease. “What bold words, little miss Reaper. I’m surprised such a small little thing like you who used to submit to everything your father said has turned into the boss herself. I didn’t know you had such the potential.”

Quite a close ally of your father’s. You remember his face well, how can you not? Out of all the people your father used against you, he was one of the more prevalent ones, a true villain who thought the world of himself. For some time he acted as if he was on your side — you never believed it, of course, how could you trust so easily after what Bangtan had done to you? 

So eventually when his tactics didn’t work, he resorted to being your father’s fist.

You cannot count the many times your father would use him to punish you, the many times his hand rose against you, the many times that familiar sly smirk of his formed along his lips, laughing and laughing hysterically, a proud man for being your father’s little puppet.

The amount of hate this man has by your loyal members and you will never cease to exist.

Yuna’s probably the happiest knowing he was the next person on your hit list.

“You were such a well-behaved little girl.” When he tries to reach out to hold your face, you take a step back as Hoseok takes ahold of his wrist, stopping him from doing so with a warning glare. “Ah, Jung Hoseok,” he turns to the man, finally acknowledging his presence as he shakes his hand off with a fake smile. “Good to see you here, huh? Where’s Mr. Kim?”

“He has more important business to attend to,” Hoseok states flatly without a filter.

“Well, being as he aided little miss Reaper here upon getting to Daejung, I had expected he wouldn’t have come.”

Hoseok’s brows furrow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Such a traitor.”

“In a world where power is the most important,” you cut in with a swirl of your drink, “don’t you think he made quite the wise decision to back me up? Mr. Kim has good eyes for who he decides to ally himself with, even if that means betraying someone along the way. If they’re weak, why keep them by your side?”

Just as how he threw you out of his life when you became of no use to him.

“You on the other hand just love to suck up on anyone in position no matter who they are.”

The smirk on Jummy’s face twitches slightly, his facade slowly breaking. “What did you say?”

“Just like the way you obeyed my father’s every command, wagging your little tail each time he called for you. You’re a little attention whore who needs validation from everyone else in order to remain relevant.”

“Weren’t you the same?”

“Oh don’t do that,” you laugh at his pathetic attempt to bring you down along with him, “because unlike you, I knew where my goal lied and that wasn’t living under the shadows of everyone that came my way. I’ve built my own empire, where’s yours? Ah, that’s right,” you look around the room, an amused expression plastered on your face, “you’re too busy wagging your tail for everyone to think straight. It’s quite shameless if I do say so myself.” 

You see the way he grits his teeth, hands balling into fists, and scoff at his foolish reaction.

How is it that such small little words have already gotten under his skin already? He always did have quite the temper, one similar to your father. Though, unlike your father, he was never one to keep calm and composed for a good amount of time.

How foolish.

You used to fear this man for all the things he’s done but looking at him now, he’s just another pathetic man.

A pathetic bug.

“Since when did you get so bold, little Y/N?” You don’t like how he’s using your name as if the two of you had a close relationship in the first place. But it’s a bit amusing seeing him trying to keep calm in front of a crowd because the Jummy you know would always lash out and take his anger out on you whenever you were available for him.

Father never stopped him.

“I was always bold, Jummy.” You look up at him through the hood of your eyes, a smirk curling along your lips with amusement. “Did you really think I grew this confidence out of nowhere? I feared you, I do admit it, but even children stop believing in the monsters living under their beds, especially once they come to realize that everything was fake and they never existed in the first place. You aren’t a monster, Jummy, you’re just a pathetic fool who never knew how to control his anger, believing he was the bigger and stronger man when in reality, you’re weak for not being able to control your emotions. You’re pathetic and shameless, and even now, you’re still sucking up to Mr. Gwon who’s already gotten sent to hell, thinking you can still win by—”

You feel a harsh impact against your cheek as the wind picks up the force, lightly blowing against the strands of your hair, and as you face to the side, your eyes widen a bit as you realized Jummy had just slapped you.

Ah.

That kind of stings.

Hoseok is quick to grab him by the collar while you stand there, a light chuckle leaving your lips.

“Congratulations Jummy, it seems you’ve just signed your death warrant.”

vixen -> jjk (two)

summary: jimin sets up you and jungkook’s first ever playdate, but it doesn’t exactly go according to plan with an unexpected turn of events.

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: hybrid au, smut 

rating: NSFW 18+

word count: 4.4k uh whoops

warning tags:  fox hybrid!reader, dog hybrid!jk, jk in his rut ;o, choking, dry humping, face riding, riding…sorta?, unprotected sex, creampie, a lil nipple play, jk makes reader call him master, nd a lil bit of overstim.

a/n: lmao jimin and jungkooks dynamic is so funny. also i just tagged everyone that ik that’s asked for a tag so far. feel free to let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in my fics or if i missed you! tysm for the love and support <3 also as usual so sorry for this unedited cluster fuck LOL

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masterlist

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Jungkook is wearing all black, twirling in circles in front of the long mirror until he’s stumbling backwards into his owner’s chest. “Kook, you look great, you don’t need to change again.” He chuckles as his pup goes cross eyed, trying to focus his sight. “Are you sure? But Y/N likes pink, and I like black…” He pouts, his nerves were getting to him. 

“I heard that opposites attract.” Hoseok shrugs, dusting off Jungkook’s shoulders and tugging on the hem of his black t-shirt to straighten it out. “Plus, I may have heard from a certain somebody that Y/N is very excited to see you again.” He wiggles his eyebrows at his younger pet. “Hobi…” Jungkook whines, hiding his face in his hands. 

Jimin was busy today, and Hoseok had to go to work. Typically, when the owners had to leave the house for long periods of time, they hired nannies to look after the hybrids, but when Jimin pitched that Jungkook and Y/N could possibly have a playdate to keep each other company, it was settled. Your owner initially thought of the idea because you wouldn’t stop talking about that super handsome border collie that helped you in your desperate times of need, and it had been a month or so since then. You were back to your old self again and ready to hang out with him for real this time.

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