Nooo Leaving Me Hanging Like This

Nooo leaving me hanging like this 😮‍💨

Instinct | Taehyung x Reader

Pairing: Hybrid Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Stalking (in the animal sense lol) Fear, Blood, Murder, Kind of Cannibalism? Hunting Animals and Humans, Depictions of Dead Bodies, Non-consensual touching, Human Experimentation, Depictions of Gore, Break In, Attempted Murder, Light Spice at End, Insinuated Dub-Con, Taehyung is kind of a switch tbh

Preview: He was huddled in the middle of the road, his arms wrapped around himself as he remained crouched on the wet pavement. But you knew he was looking at you. His golden eyes were glowing back at you, like a predator glaring at you from the depths of the jungle. There was something inside you that knew that he was dangerous, an echo of intuition from thousands of years before you. But you were a modern human, you were good at ignoring your instincts. 

A/N: I wrote this in two days due to your guys' interest in the prompt. I chose Tae instead of Jimin, he only has two fics on my blog! Anyways it’s two in the morning and I’m really tired, this is really short compared to the majority of my works but I hope you still enjoy it. ILY and I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and the comments ~ good night my loves 💜

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, the words cracked and broken. 

“No, you’re not.” You sighed.  

He always did this. He always turned on the tears every time you called him out on his bullshit and you had a terrible habit of falling for it every time. He cried, he apologized, but in a few days he was back on his usual shit. 

“But I am, I really am!” He insisted, tears pooling in pretty brown eyes. 

“Really? I don’t think he sees it that way,” You said with a jerk of your head in the direction of the limp body splayed on the ground. “In fact, I really doubt he sees much anymore.”

“But he-“

“No!” You yelled, spurring a flinch from him, “You always have some excuse but not this time! I am tired of spending my evenings scrubbing blood out of the grout!” 

He could only pout in response because there was no way of getting around it, you were right. It was unfair that you always had to be the one to clean up his messes. But he just couldn’t help himself, he was a killer by design. Not nature, design. 

You let out another laborious, tired sigh. It seemed that was all you did these days, ever since you had found Taehyung. 

You had almost hit him with your car. It was late at night, a new moon to be exact, the darkness thick and just barely penetrable by your headlights. He had come out of nowhere, his lithe body trapped between two beams of light before you swerved out of the way just missing him by mere inches. 

You could remember the feeling of your tight grasp on the leather of the steering wheel, the way your throat constricted and how your chest rapidly rose and fell, and the sound of catchy pop music that was so ill fitting and off putting for such a dramatic turn of events. It was ingrained in your memory, a turning point in your life that you would never forget. 

He was huddled in the middle of the road, his arms wrapped around himself as he remained crouched on the wet pavement. But you knew he was looking at you. His golden eyes were glowing back at you, like a predator glaring at you from the depths of the jungle. There was something inside you that knew that he was dangerous, an echo of intuition from thousands of years before you. But you were a modern human, you were good at ignoring your instincts. 

As you approached him you noticed several things about him. The dirt and blood that stained his honey skin, his taunt, tense, strong muscles, and of course the ears protruding from his thick, dark curls, and the tail that swung in agitation from his tailbone. 

Taehyung was, quite literally, one of a kind. 

An embryo spliced with the DNA of an apex predator, something that had never existed before him, a hybrid. 

He had hissed at you, stopping you four feet away from his crumpled form. His teeth glinted in the light, a set of fangs protruding from the top row of his teeth with a smaller matching set on the bottom. That noise had every nerve in your body tingling in fright, yet still you persisted. 

You made yourself smaller, lowering yourself to the ground so that you were lower than he was with your arms at your sides, every vulnerable point of your body open and exposed to him. 

You remembered the feeling of his nose nudging at your pulse point, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your neck, the rumble of a growl deep in his chest before it faded to a gentle chuff as he nuzzled his face against the column of your throat.  There were serrated teeth hidden behind beautiful full lips, one little bite would sever a major artery and blood would arch through the dark sky. 

Taehyung was a dangerous brand of beautiful. 

You often liked to joke to yourself that you were a lonely woman who took in a stray cat. It was easier to use humor to veil the harsh reality of what you had actually brought into your home. 

Taehyung quickly became attached to you, it was almost like he had imprinted on you. It was the only way that you could explain his sudden and intense adoration towards you especially when you remembered the way he looked at you when he first saw you. It was like he was hungry. 

That hunger was ever present in his eyes, buried beneath the loving gaze it's embers still burned. The fiery gold cooled to a deep brown, his eyes wide in wonderment as he watched you. 

You hissed in pain when he dug his fingers into your arms as you tried to help lower him into the tub. A hiss died in his throat as he slowly sunk into the warm water, a gentle purr took its place. 

“There you go,” You hummed as you helped him wash, the tub water steadily growing murky as you scrubbed the grime and blood from his skin. 

The noise he made as you washed his hair, massaging his scalp and the base of his ears, was heavenly. A beautiful baritone groan that melted into a purr. After all, panthers were still cats. 

When you pulled the drain plug and went to grab a towel, he spoke to you for the first time. 

His hold on your arm tightened, his soft eyes turned primal once more. “Don’t leave.” 

His voice was deep and raspy. It sounded like he hadn’t spoken in a long time, it sounded animalistic. It suited him well. 

Over time you learned Taehyung never wanted to be alone. He clung to you at all times no matter what you were doing and despite your protests he followed you to bed every night. He would wrap you up tightly in his embrace sealing you into his prison-like grasp with a leg draped over your hip. His adoration was constricting. 

“It was cold,” He finally explained to you, “They kept me in a room all by myself. It was all metal and concrete, they fed me with long silver tongs. I was always alone, the only touch I knew, hurt.” 

You held him tighter that night, your heart ached for your panther. All he wanted was for someone to love him, he was just as human as anyone else. 

“Please don’t hurt me.” He whispered, nudging the back of your head with his nose and breathing in your scent as his pretty fingers smoothed over your ribs in a slow, circular pattern. 

In reality, it wasn’t you that would end up hurting anyone. 

You had noticed something was wrong when he lost his appetite. He would stare down at his plate with a bored and confused look in his eyes, poking at whatever he was supposed to be eating with a lack of interest. 

“Please, Tae,” You would beg, using the soft and soothing voice you knew he responded well to, “Just a few bites for me? You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?” 

He would acquise with those big adoring eyes before taking small and faux enthusiastic bites. But it was clear he wasn’t enjoying it and you had an idea as to why that was. But it was easier for your own sanity if you ignored the glaring problem. 

It became unignorable the night a man broke into your house. 

Taehyung had heard it first, the shattering of glass and the metal squeak of door hinges. He had crept out of bed and stalked into the hallway, clinging to the shadows as he watched the man attempt to sneak further into your home. He was trespassing into his territory and that was a dire mistake. 

You were awoken by the screaming. You jolted upright and were greeted by your pitch black bedroom. The screams persisted, deep, panicked, blood curdling screams followed by a wet gurgle and then an ever scarier silence. 

That feeling was there again, that intuition that was buried inside of you that was begging you to lock and barricade the door and not go investigating the source of those screams. But Taehyung was missing and you were scared without him. 

The hallway was dark, but a single beam of moonlight shone through the broken window of the front door and illuminated the carnage in front of you. 

Taehyung was bent over the body of a man. His tail was slowly skirting over the floor in delight as he ripped a chunk of flesh from the man’s shoulder and tilted his head back. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the blood on his face gleaming in the moonlight. 

You could see the man on the floor now, his throat had been ripped open and blood was steadily pooling around him. His eyes were vacant, his jaw was slack. He was dead. Taehyung had killed him. 

Taehyung was eating him. 

There had always been a part of you that had considered this to be a possibility. It explained why Taehyung was in the state he was in the night that you had found him. It explained how he had escaped that facility and why he wasn’t hungry for days after. He had killed and consumed his handlers. 

Despite the panther ears and tail, you often forgot that Taehyung wasn’t entirely human. He was so sweet with you, so clingy and adorable. But he was still an apex predator. He didn’t want to be fed with tongs or served cooked meals. He needed to hunt, it was ingrained in his DNA. 

You watched in fascinated horror as his teeth and textured tongue expertly removed flesh from bone. He was finally eating. 

You took a step back only to trip over a bag that had belonged to the intruder. Out of it spilled horrifyingly familiar items. Duct tape, zip ties, knives. It was a kill kit. Your breathing stuttered and your heart dropped. There was not a doubt in your mind as to what that man had planned to do, and Taehyung had stopped him. He protected you. 

His golden eyes were looking at you now, their narrowed predatory gaze relaxing, and his soft round eyes returned. He rose up from his animalistic crouch with a fluidity no normal man could possess and slowly approached you. 

You closed your eyes as he neared you, your body on fire from genuine fear. It was a toxic blend, the love and the fear that you felt for him. You flinched when his large hand cupped your face and held your breath when you felt his lips softly drag over your cheek leaving a streak of warm blood in their wake. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, a stray tear escaping his eye and rolling down your cheek, “I’m so hungry.” 

When you opened your eyes you were met with quite a sight. Taehyung had always been beautiful, the most beautiful man that you had ever seen. But the way he looked now made you realize how sick you were. How could you think he looked beautiful with those full lips stained red and the glaze of a shed tear streaked down the curve of his face. 

Taehyung never asked to be made, and now he had to suffer the consequences of his creation. 

“It’s okay baby,” You cooed, your thumb brushing a bead of blood from his lower lip that he chased with his tongue, swiping it off of the tip of your finger. “Finish your meal.” 

~~~~~~~

There was a shift that night. 

The relationship between the two of you was changing. You could see it in the way he watched you. It was a different kind of hunger, one for a companionship he had never been able to have. 

And his regular appetite was changing too. 

You tried taking him to the forest, letting him hunt small and big game. And it worked, but the human side of him would often combat the animal side. He craved the complexity of hunting humans. He craved satiating his wrath against humans, the very beings that had created him.

Animals worked in the short term, but it was never long before another man ended up dead in your yard or in this case, on the kitchen floor. 

“You said it was okay if it was bad people!” Taehyung tried, his ears pressing down flat against his skull as his tail twitched behind him.

“Yes, bad people Tae! Intruders, rapists, murderers, not delivery guys!” 

“He entered my territory-“

“This is my house, Tae! My house! Don’t start with the territory shit again.”

“I can’t help it, you know that! You don’t feel what I feel, it’s instinctual, I need to do this!”

You gripped your hair tightly in distress before leaning against the counter and dropping your head into your hands. 

“People are going to start noticing, Tae. You can’t keep doing this. If it’s not the police then it’s going to be the people that made you and they’ll take you away from me, is that what you want?”

“No!” He yelled, grabbing you by your shoulders and spinning you around to face him. “I want to stay with you, please don’t let them take me away!” 

You softened as he began to cry again, his tears wearing away at you like they always did even though you were very aware of the fact that you couldn’t keep letting him do this. You cupped his cheek and lightly wiped his tears away as he bumped the side of his face against your hand before laying a bloody kiss to your palm. 

You couldn’t think rationally when he treated you like this. Your head was also hazy with desire when he did this. It was completely and utterly unfair. 

“Come on, I’ll put you to bed.” You hummed before taking his hand and guiding him to your shared room. 

It was even harder to think clearly when he looked so adorable, wide eyed and curled up beneath your blankets. That was why you needed the distance. You needed to think about what more you could do, you couldn’t keep letting him kill innocent guys whose worst crime was getting a little handsy, like the delivery guy. You knew what it was, you knew what desire looked like in someone’s eyes. Taehyung was wiping out any man he saw as competition. He had said it himself, it was instinctual.  

Your heart ached when his eyes filled with confusion and it tore in half when despair overtook him as you shut and locked the door, trapping him on the other side. You could hear him scramble across the floor and you watched as the door knob jiggled. 

“Please open the door!” He called through the wood, “Why are you doing this, please let me out!”

“Just calm down Taehyung, go to sleep, I'll be right back.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, please open the door, I’ll be good I promise! I won’t hurt you!” 

“I just need some space, just lay down, I’ll be back.” You said firmly despite how horrible you felt for confining him to your room. 

“No, no, no, no! Don’t leave me, please! I’ll be good!” He continued to yell and continued to break your heart. 

You couldn’t bear to listen to his anguished, panicked cries especially with the knowledge that you were the cause of them. 

You could still hear his yelling and banging on the door as you dragged the body out of the kitchen, a long and laborious effort that left a large streak of blood behind you. This wasn’t the first time that you had to do this but usually you had Taehyung to take care of all the heavy lifting while you took care of the cleanup. It was a morbid, macabre chore, but one you had come accustomed to frighteningly quick.

In your backyard, there were several piles of dirt. Some had been freshly turned over while others had sat undisturbed for some time. Above each pile sat a freshly planted rose bush. There had been a time where your backyard was barren and neglected. Ever since Taehyung had entered your life, you had done quite a bit of gardening…against your will. 

You huffed in exhaustion as you patted the soil smooth with your shovel. You would need to pick up another rose bush tomorrow. 

You had figured this would be the best way to deal with the problem, and it helped Taehyung in some odd, primal way. Sometimes he would sit outside with a satisfied look on his face like he was proud of what he had done. You knew it was because it felt that he had eliminated another threat or competitor. It meant that he had you all to himself again. 

Fear and love are a volatile blend. Could you look past your fear because you loved him? Or did you love him because you were afraid? Afraid of what would happen if you didn’t shower him with affection and attention. Would he turn on you too?

The sound of a loud crack frightened you causing you to drop the shovel. It clattered to the ground and rolled over in the grass, suddenly becoming far more interesting than it had been moments ago. 

You glanced back up at the house and watched, frozen in shock, as the door was thrown open and slammed up against the siding of the house. Taehyung stood on the back steps, his hands bloody from clawing at and breaking through your bedroom door. His chest was heaving from exertion and anxiety and for the first time in a long while, he scared you. His gaze narrowed in on you, those panther eyes glowing with hunger and desire once they found you. 

With blood and dirt caked beneath your nails you were reminded of the kill he made not all that long ago. The fear you felt was all too real. And, on instinct, you turned and you ran. 

You really should have known better. He was an apex predator, he was built for the chase and for the hunt. You had watched the way he enjoyed tracking and stalking his prey before going in for the kill. But in reality, everything you had done up until this point had not made sense. You should have kept driving that night, you shouldn’t have brought him home, you certainly shouldn’t have let him sleep in your bed, and you definitely should have ran the first time he had killed and consumed another human being. 

Running was instinct, it was the only thing that you did that made sense. 

But you couldn’t make it far. You were exhausted from dragging and burying that body, you were running on empty with a dash of adrenaline. And Taehyung, he was stronger than you, faster than you, and could even see in the dark. It was embarrassing that you had even attempted to escape him. 

His strides were completely silent, you had realized he was closing in on you too late and within seconds his arms were wrapped around your chest and dragging you down into the grass. 

It had happened so quickly that you didn’t register it, you laid on your back, frozen in the grass as you processed what happened. And once you looked up and caught sight of his canines you began to writhe beneath him, managing to turn over and scramble a foot away before he grabbed you by your hips and dragged you back beneath him. He caged you in between his arms and pressed his body weight against you until you collapsed chest first into the ground. 

“Taehyung, wait!” You cried as you felt him shove his face in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

You closed your eyes then, waiting for him to make the fatal bite that you had seen him deliver time and time again. But there was nothing. You jerked with a surprised cry as you felt his tongue glide over your pulse point in slow languid laps. 

“Tae, what are you-“ He cut you off with a menacing growl, one that told you you were not going to dissuade him from doing what he felt needed to be done. 

An involuntary gasp parted your lips as you felt his hips grind down against you, his hands sliding up towards your wrists and holding them in an iron grip as his slow licks transitioned into hot, wet, open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. He was making sure he marked up every inch of skin that was exposed to him. 

“I can’t help it,” He whined, his voice breathy and deep as he ground himself against you even harder than before, spurring a soft cry from you. “I need you.” 

You supposed this was the better alternative to him killing you. But still, it didn’t feel quite right.

“I can’t.” You groaned. 

A menacing snarl echoed beside your ear and in one quick movement he flipped you over onto your back and pulled your legs tightly over his hips. His hold was so strong he wasn’t giving you an inch to move unless it was against him and in the way that he desired. 

And in a moment of pure need he firmly gripped your jaw and pressed his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Everything about him was primal, even the way that he kissed. It wasn’t particularly skilled, it was definitely his first, but it didn’t lack passion or desire. He wouldn’t even let you breathe, your lungs burning and singing in desperation for air as he moaned into your mouth while desperately rutting against you. 

“Don’t leave me,” He moaned in between desperate, relentless kisses. 

‘Tae-,” You tried again only for your words to be smothered once more. 

“No, I won’t let you leave me.” 

This is so?? Poetically?? Angsty?? (+smutty) ITS SO BEAUTIFUL IM SO SOBBING.

once the thrill expires | jjk

title credit: cardigan - taylor swift

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader

premise: your housemate turned fwb takes another girl home after a night out

warnings: angsty, smutty turmoil. it's not that bad, but it definitely isn't a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that'll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

wordcount: 5.8K

note from holly: virgo boy trauma for you in the form of a jk one shot lmao. it's rare you get virgo boy shit laid this bare but he he i love oversharing on the internet! there's an old paragraph from yet another virgo boy fic hidden in here, too so if you think it looks familiar, that'll be why!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

The knock on your en-suite bathroom door comes as a surprise. 

The subsequent twist of the lock mechanism from a coin wedged in the bolt on the other side does not. 

There’s only one person it would be.

And so you don’t yell. Don’t tell him to go away, even if you do hug your legs into your chest a little tighter. 

Sitting on the floor of your shower, dignity is preserved - but with skin as red as the flags that Jungkook freely hands you, and mascara staining your cheeks from the onslaught of piping hot water showering down on you, how dignified can you really be?

No words are spoken as the steam billows from the room, Jungkook not caring to shut the door behind himself. He takes a perch on the closed lid of the toilet, elbows to his knees, tattooed hands clasped beneath his chin. Refuses to look anywhere other than you.

There’s perplexion to his taut jaw - a frown embedded in his brows - but more than anything, there’s an overwhelming sense of confusion in his soft eyes. You’re unaware of the way he’s mirroring your expression back at you; how defeated you look, wet hair sticking to the side of your face, an emptiness in your gaze that is pale in comparison to the void in your chest.

With nothing but the pitter-patter of your shower to fill the space, you’re thankful that he can’t hear the way your heart is beating, or how you’re sniffing back the tears you were freely crying before he arrived.

“Jem messaged me,” he eventually says, quiet beneath the sound of the water. Leaning back, he wipes a palm over his face, then pushes it back into his dishevelled hair. Lets his hand fall between his legs, then shrugs as he looks at you as if to say, 'Don’t look at me like that' or 'It’s not my fault.'

And realistically, you know that it isn’t. Whatever he’s done is within the parameters of what was agreed upon. The way you feel - like Jungkook has stolen the moon and stopped the tides from turning - is not.

It’s not like either of you had ever expected to let things get this far, and definitely not for this long.

What had started as quiet kisses in the corners of clubs when your friends weren’t looking, had catapulted into drunken hook-ups after those aforementioned nights out. 

He’d call you Dizzy, ‘cause he was convinced you looked at him like you’d been spinning in circles, all awe-struck and smiley. Pretty. Like a giggle was on the tip of your tongue at all times.

Was easy, back then. Convenient. He was newly single. Not looking for anything. 

You’d been quietly harbouring an illicit crush on him from the day you moved into your shared university accommodation. Had been waiting for the stars to align - and once they had, you were certain that soulmates had to exist.

It’s the only way you can explain the small earthquake that happened half the world away at the very time you first met, the tectonic plates shifting to make sure you were perfectly presented to one another. 

You didn’t feel the tremors - would have been impossible - but your heart certainly felt something. Adrenaline? Limerence? You’re not sure.

Whatever it was only became more and more prevalent with every tipsy hold of his hand on the way to clubs, or moments stolen in secrecy in the house you now share with six of your friends. 

Now in your final year of university, if you spent as much time studying, as you do fretting over Jungkook - what he’s up to, who he’s with - maybe you’d get a first-class degree.

You’re on track for a 2:1.

He’s on track for a first, though. 

You choose to believe it’s because he’s naturally more academically inclined (as if you didn’t write an entire paper for him last semester), and not because he spends significantly less time thinking about you.

There’s no need for endless thoughts, though. 

The arrangement is simple: You’re friends. 

Best friends. Spend all your time together. Are plus ones to events. Fill the void that a partner should fill; at the winter balls, cinema screenings you don't want to see alone, and in the hushed privacy of midnight intimacy. He gets you off when you need it, and you him. 

Kisses are never shared between lips - apart from that one summer when he accidentally said he was in love with you, then took it back a week later under the guise of not wanting to ‘ruin’ the friendship. 

You don’t speak about that summer.

Hook-ups are in your room, always, ‘cause you’ve only got Jem in the room next door. Jungkook’s room is up on the middle floor, surrounded by all the boys. They’d realise what’s going on far too quickly.

It’s simple - yet excruciatingly complicated when there’s a lack of commitment, and Jungkook looks at you in the way that he does. 

His lips are a little deeper than their usual pink this evening, but you put it down to alcohol. 

Denial is a wonderful thing, and delusion even greater.

Still, he leans forward to push the shower door open. Leans further still, then knocks the tap off. Lets the water trickle down the drain, the hum of the pipes murmuring like your unspoken grievances. 

Rivulets of water chase down your skin. Jungkook watches one race from your knee to your ankle, running straight over the bruises from messy nights out and the small cut at the bottom of your calf from the fountain you’d both traipsed through when you were a little too merry a few nights prior. 

He’d given you a piggyback the entire way home, blood staining the white of his shirt; the very essence of you embedded now in the fabric of him. 

He’d patched you up after you got home. Showered with you, right here, then carried you the measly five or six steps to your bed. Had told you that you’d definitely get sepsis and die. Kissed it better, then decided he didn’t know any better, and trailed his lips up your leg. Took pity on your impending death and gave you a little, lovely death just to soften the blow. 

Funny, how you think sepsis would be preferable over whatever the fuck it is that you’re feeling now.

“Jem messaged me,” he repeats. Presses his lips together, the ring in the corner of his mouth glistening under the white lights of the bathroom.  “Said I should check on you. Been in the shower for an hour, apparently.”

Well, you think to yourself, bitterness wrapping around your words like poison ivy. You’ve checked. You can go now.

The words don’t manifest in your throat. Nothing does. Not even the echo of a sob you’ve been holding in since he first stepped foot within your sanctuary.

Instead you’re silent as you get to your feet, not caring for your nakedness. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t seen before. Probably knows your body better than his own at this point. Can look at the faded bruise on your chest and know that it was left there by his lips last week. Can pick out which ones of your dainty linework tattoos were there before he met you, and which ones have been acquired since.

It’s a quiet intimacy, the way Jungkook looks at you. There’s no towel in the bathroom - an oversight by your tipsy brain when deciding you needed to wash yourself clean of the man in front of you after arriving home from the club - and Jungkook doesn’t care to offer you one. 

Insanity is the product of looking at your body, he thinks. Can’t remember a time he’s ever seen you like this and hasn’t wanted to be inside you. He’s a simple man in pursuit of simple pleasures, and the way you fit him like a glove is the simplest pleasure of them all. 

“Hm?” He questions your lack of a response. 

His deep black eyes are just like the depths of the ocean floor, and it feels like he’s dragging you right down every single time he looks at you like this. Softly. Tenderly. Sweetly. As if he actually gives a shit.

There’s no room for two in this bathroom. It’s not a space designed to be shared, no matter how many times you’ve both squeezed into the shower under far different circumstances - though now you come to think of it, perhaps they weren’t so dissimilar. 

It was always Jungkook’s pursuit of pleasure that put you in that position, just like it put you there tonight.

“Hey,” he says quietly, as you turn to leave, his grip on your waist pulling you between his legs. You don’t look at him. Just keep your head turned to face out of the room - but you make no attempt to leave. Especially when his nose brushes up against the bottom of your ribs right between your breasts, and he husks, “Why are you being like this?”

The softness of his lips as he presses them against your sternum, long lashes splayed across the top of his cheeks, has you spiralling. Kind of feels like he’s twisting a corkscrew through your heart. You know he’ll rip it right out - but maybe you’ll let him, if it means he’ll kiss the wound better.

“Hmm?” He hums. One of your hands rests on his shoulder, the other in his hair, and that’s how Jungkook knows he’s rectified the damage done for a short while. It’s like putting washi tape over holes punched in the walls - useless, and bound to fall off eventually, but ever so pretty in the meantime. Another washi-tape kiss is pressed to your skin, a little higher this time. “We had a good night, didn’t we?”

The tenderness of his voice rewrites the events of the evening. A good night. 

Not one with tears, and jealousy, and arguments that people who claim to be just friends have no business having. A night shared together, perhaps, with no one else to intrude.

Didn’t we?

You so prefer this false chain of events - the one where he left the bar with you, and held your hand in the cab ride back just like he’d done in the cab ride there.

“Is she still here?”

He’s surprised that you’re mentioning it. Half-expected you to act like it never happened. Like she never happened. Is what you usually do, whenever he goes home with someone that isn’t you. 

Still, he just continues to gently stroke your sides. Doesn’t present you with any sort of weakness.

“No.”

“Did you fuck her?”

There’s a little venom to your tone; the poison ivy around your thoughts sprouting now from your throat. 

Her. Some inconsequential girl that neither of you will likely ever see again. Looked nothing like you, but a hell of a lot like his ex. 

“No, Diz,” he softens the sternness of his tone with a name only he calls you. “I didn’t fuck her.”

You’ve no idea if this is a lie or not. 

It’ll be accepted as truth for an hour. Maybe two. Just enough time for you to convince yourself that you’re the one he wants. That he couldn’t bear to fuck anyone else. That he sent her on her way after a kiss or awkward fumble, because he realised no one else could feel as good as you.

You’ll ignore the fact you know he’s here because Jem messaged him. 

You’ll ignore the fact he thinks you’ve been in the shower for over an hour, and has no actual knowledge of the events of it all. 

You’ll ignore the scratch mark on his back, and in the morning you’ll believe it was you who left there even though your nails are bitten right down.

The lies you’ll tell yourself will be far more grand than the ones Jungkook ever tells you. Nobody can ever hurt you quite like you hurt yourself.

And so, against your better judgement, you let him follow you to your bed. 

There's a clang as he tosses his rings down into the ceramic dish beside your bed. It's white, and speckled in tiny black dots, and matches the one Jungkook has in his own bedroom. Not really a surprise. He was the one who bought it for you. Before then, he used to just tuck his rings beneath your pillows - but he kept losing them, and he found it annoying having to rummage around for them whenever he was trying to make a silent exit so as to not wake you.

You tell yourself that small things like this are Jungkook's way of integrating himself into your life; creating permanence. In reality, it's just something that makes it easier for him to leave.

It used to be different. He used to stay. You convince yourself each and every time that he’ll do what he used to do before things got so confusing. That he’ll stay, and that things will be okay.

Leaving is the last thing on your mind right now, though, and it will be until he comes.

You let him kiss your skin, but he’ll never kiss your lips. Let him lay claim to your body, even though you know he’ll never lay claim to your soul. 

It’s nice to pretend.

Nice, when he lays you down and rids himself of his shirt. Nice, when he presses your legs apart, and looks at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever laid eyes upon. Nice, when he says shit like, “Such a nice cunt,” and “Let me make you feel good.”

So nice, when he strokes up and down your inner thigh, eyes trained on your pussy. 

So, so nice when he slowly drips a little spit between his pursed lips and watches as it trails down your folds. 

So fucking nice, when he spreads you with his index and middle finger, groaning at the sight of you.

See, Jungkook can be nice. Can be honest. Can tell you how much he wants you, and you can believe him without having to do mental gymnastics over it all.

As he sinks his middle finger into you - “Shit. So wet for me, aren’t you?” - Jungkook is on his best behaviour. He’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget he ever made you feel bad, cause he needs this. Needs you. 

Not in the life-debilitating, earth-shattering, universe-bending way that you need him, but in a way that isn’t too dissimilar. 

You’re his best friend. He loves you in his own, curious way. Would lay his life on the line for you. Just can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants for no other reason than selfish gluttony. 

It’s his fatal flaw, but he just thinks everyone has them. That most people are like this.

Of the seven deadly sins, Jungkook wields them all. Too proud to admit his wrongdoings. Greedy in his need to have everything life can offer, and how he refuses to limit himself to just you. His lust and gluttony go hand in hand - yet whenever any one else with similar predispositions look in your direction, he turns green with envy. Green, until he’s red, wrath taking hold. 

But he’s lazy, too. Far too settled in how easy it is to have his way with you. Why would he try harder when you never make him?

That’s your cardinal sin: desperation. 

It reeks. Spiced vanilla and black cherry. Tarnishes your skin, until Jungkook licks it from you.

And so as his lips press down your legs, wet and wanting, you don’t object. In fact, you don’t really do anything. You just allow it to happen.

Because you are desperate - for him, his approval, his desire. His heart.

You’ll never get it, mind you, for his heart is hollow. 

Saw every example of what he considered to be true love crackle and crumble until it fell apart. Parents divorced. High-school sweetheart cheated. Love, as you know it, doesn’t exist in Jungkook’s understanding of life. 

You never stood a chance. Not really.

The only times his heart is full is when he steals enough adoration from yours, and cosplays it as his own. Shines it back at you, and tricks you into thinking that maybe he did mean it when he mumbled false declarations into your lips.

But that was three summers ago, now, and Jungkook is a creature of habit. Too stuck in his ways to ever change. Comfortable in this chaos with you.

‘Cause while the other girls are fleeting, and fun, and always very nice, they’re never comfortable. Not like you are. 

“I liked your dress tonight,” he whispers, as he pushes a second finger into you. Pumps them gently, palm skywards, coaxing soft little moans from your lips. Curls them just right, just like he always does.

The affection of such a compliment rids you of the haunting way he’d looked at you earlier that evening. 

Up, down. No smile. Turned away to change the song coming through the aux at pre-drinks. Didn’t look at you again until he was passing out shots for everyone to take. Just nodded towards your necklace - the one his hobbyist silversmith mother made you for Christmas - and asked, “You like it?”

The pendant is small. Embossed with the letters DJ - the name his mother collectively calls you whenever you spend the summer together at his place. The hammered edge of the pendant matches the ring that wraps around your thumb. Another one of her creations, gifted to you by him for your birthday.

“Of course I do,” you’d said. Seemed silly for him to ask. You wear it most days. 

“Good,” he’d nodded, then took his shot and pretended as if he wasn't all too aware that your dress would be attracting good-for-nothing men all night.

See, Jungkook knows you like the necklace. Had just been reminding you of it, and the fact it’s his initial on there with the initial only he calls you. Well, him and his mother. Goes with the territory. 

She’s seen you through your formative years. Only ever sees the good parts, because Jungkook orchestrates it that way.

She doesn’t see the moments like these, when he’s crushed your self esteem and tries to fix it in the most idiotic of ways. 

The necklace pools around the base of your throat as your head tips back into the pillows, his thumb coming to toy with your clit, gently pressing down.

“Shush, Diz,” he smiles, so pleased to see your body responding in the way that it always does. “You’ll get us in trouble.”

God forbid the people you live with - who’ve all heard the arguments after his illicit encounters with randomers, and seen his face of thunder whenever you’re getting ready for first dates - ever figure out you’re fucking. Not like it’s obvious in the slightest. Not why Jem texted Jungkook, instead of checking on you herself.

Biting onto your wrist, you try and stifle the impact of his touch - ‘cause if they do hear, it will be your fault. You’ll be the reason everyone knows your dirty little secrets. You’ll be the one who ruins it all. Not him. Just you. 

He doesn’t mean to condition you in such a way. Doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Nor do you - but your self esteem is shot to shit. You’re good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love, even if Jungkook insists that there’s no one he adores more. It always comes with an add-on of ‘you’re my best friend’, or ‘you wouldn’t wanna date me anyways’.

Maybe he’s right.

But maybe it would have been nice to try.

Shame.

The pace of Jungkook’s fingers pumping into you begins to slow. Leaking around the base of his knuckles, you’re just as wet as you always are with him. Even when the emotional labour of letting him have his way with you feels like a ten tonne weight on your chest, crushing down on your ribs and spoiling you forevermore, your body still wants him. Only him. Always him.

Withdrawing his fingers, Jungkook taps the outer side of your thigh. “On your front for me, Diz. Face down, ass up.”

With anyone else, Jungkook is far more often on the receiving end. It’s a shame, ‘cause his talents go to waste, it’s just what he’s found to be typical of random hook-ups.

He loves pussy. Loves eating it. Loves that you love it, too.

Slow as he spreads your ass with his hands, Jungkook really doesn’t fuck around with wasting time. He dives in without hesitation, burying his tongue between your folds. Cares not for accuracy, nor carefulness. Just wants his tongue all over you.

Your body lurches forward, hands clutching onto the duvet beneath you. He’s always been like this. Hungry. Just as desperate as you so often feel, but better at hiding it than you are.

His tongue laps against you. Sinks into your soaked hole as deep as he can get it. Uses one of his hands to reach around and toy with your clit while he continues to explore somewhere he knows like the back of his hand.

Pulling back a little, Jungkook’s breathing is heavy. You can hear it. Groan, as he grips your ass again. Spanks it softly, then get back to his previous position. Licks a stripe from your clit up to your leaking cunt, then continues. Flicks up against the tight muscle you rarely let him fuck around with.

But you want him to want you. Want him to have you in whichever capacity he so desires. 

You reach back. Tangle a hand in his hair, and encourage him to massage your tight hole with his tongue, like you know he loves to do. 

It’s kinda cute, in a way. He likes doing it, ‘cause he loves the way it feels whenever your tongue toys with his ass. Assumes other people must love it too. Just wants you to feel good. Wants to right his earlier wrongs.

He continues to trace up and down both your holes, stimulating your entire body in the process. Rubs your clit with his fingers, till you're writhing against the sheets, body pressed flat to the cotton as Jungkook begins to fuck his fingers into your again. 

“You gonna cum for me?” He husks, a smile on his wet lips as he watches the tell-tale sign of an orgasm rush over you. Soon, you’ll be looking at him with dizzy eyes once more, and your namesake will make Jungkook feel things he pretends he can’t feel. “That’s it, Diz. All over my fingers. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

There’s a relief that comes with your orgasm for Jungkook. Hope that you’ll stop being mardy with him. He doesn’t like it when you don’t like him. These days, he keeps making choices that make it hard for you to like him. 

But you always like him - like him so much - in the comedown of a climax.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. Wants to coax a second orgasm from you while he still can. Pulls you back into position - face down, ass up - and pushes down his sweats. Cock hard, there’s a small damp patch in his boxers from the precum he’s leaked for you. Lines himself up. 

“Let me fuck you,” he begs before he pushes into you.

“Uh-uh,” you full forward a little, preventing him from doing what he so desperately wants to do. Turning to look over your shoulder, you shake your head. “Condom.”

He furrows his brows. Has the audacity to look fucking offended, as if he didn’t bring another girl back to the house you share.

You’re stupid, and you’re desperate, and you make all the wrong choices, but you aren’t naive. Not really. Your delusions and denial are always elevated away from reality, of which you like to think you have a firm grip on.

And so you simply say, “Don’t believe you didn’t fuck her.”

He doesn’t deny it. Shakes his head, not that you can see it. Just reaches to the shelf above your bed, and gets one from the pot you keep them tucked away in. Rarely ever use them. It’s a novelty, more than not, when you use them. Something to make him last a little longer.

It’s different today.

Today, it’s because you don’t know if his cock is fucking clean or not.

It should crush you, but it doesn’t. 

Just a fact of life. Jungkook fucked someone else less than three hours ago. Came, probably. For someone else. Over someone else. Inside someone else. 

But that desperation of yours is back once more. You want to be the reason why Jungkook loses his mind in temporary bliss. To be better. To be his last memory of the evening.

And so as Jungkook rolls the condom down his thick shaft, you position yourself perfectly for him. Whimper as the tip of his cock kisses your entrance. Whine, as he pushes inside you. 

“That’s it,” he husks, gripping your ass cheeks to spread them nice and wide. Looking down to where your bodies meet, Jungkook is reminded of why he enjoys you so much. No one takes him so well. No one. He knows this. Doesn’t know why the fuck he ever feels the need to seek out anyone else. They’re never as good as this. “Fuck. That’s it, baby.”

Your hips roll back, ass bouncing in that hypnotic way he always swears will ruin him. His grip loosens to let you do the hard work, one of his hands stroking up your spine until it’s resting around the base of your throat. 

Taking back a little control, he keeps your head pushed into the pillows. Grunts. “Take this cock so fuckin’ well, don’t you?”

The mumble you moan into the sheets isn’t enough for him. He always does this. Asserts control and then realises he actually kinda fuckin’ hates it. Fingers still wrapped around the base of your neck, Jungkook pulls you up.

Chest pressed to your back, Jungkook wastes no time locking you in place with an arm around the front of your waist. His cock continues to pump upwards into you, the movements a little subdued but by no means lacking. 

The ridge of his thick head rubs up against your sweet spot. Gets you so fucking needy. Has your hand dipping to your clit to match the pressure.

And when you do? Oh, it’s heaven. You can’t help but whine - so Jungkook uses the hand that isn't on your waist to cover your mouth.

“You only get to cum if you’re quiet,” he tells you. “Be quiet for me, baby.”

But his hips are erratic. The sounds are lewd; skin on skin. It’s wet. Disgusting. Needy. Him, just as much as you. Sweat blossoms on his skin, keeping you both in this clammy haze of hedonism. 

Catching his lips on your ear, Jungkook doesn’t care if he isn’t supposed to let kisses linger so close to your lips. Tongue wet, he intrudes. Licks the shell of your ear. Grazes his teeth on your lobe. Whispers, “You looked so pretty tonight,” then drags his tongue across your ear. 

Cares not for precision nor accuracy, just the fact that this is an area of the body he doesn’t often explore, and that maybe he should do it more often, given how tightly your pussy is clamping around him.

There’s something about it - the obstruction of one of your senses likely to blame, sound distorted whenever his tongue licks against it - that makes you whine. 

You can’t even really do that now. Are too muffled beneath his hand - until he pushes the two fingers that had been inside your pussy earlier into your mouth. 

The taste is just the same as it always is whenever he does shit like this. Loves having you taste yourself. Experiencing what he experiences. Wants you to know exactly why he’s incapable of letting you go.

“Slutty little mouth,” he smirks against your ear. “Gonna finish in it.”

“Mhhm?” you mumble against the fingers you’re keeping wet and warm for him.

“Mhmm,” he replies. Presses a kiss to your temple, ‘cause he isn’t really thinking straight. Groans when your cunt clenches from the touch. “God, you want it, don’t you? Want it so bad. Wanna swallow my cum.”

Of course you do. You’ll take what he’ll give you. 

Your mumble around his fingers isn’t enough. He wants to hear you say it. Frees your mouth of himself. Grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Turns you to face further over your shoulder.

He’s just gonna make you say it. Just make you say something lewd to get him a little closer. Just… Just gonna… Just...- Oh, fuck it. Your lips are just there, and they’re wet, and they’re pouty and - God, forgive me - perfect for him.  

His eyes flitter between your eyes and your lips. Is aware you’re doing the same. 

“Kook,” you whisper, as if you’re about to reprimand him.

“Please,” he begs. Thinks he needs this just as much as you do. Maybe even more so.

And so somewhere between the overwhelming acknowledgement that this is a catastrophic chain of events, and the promise of a happy ending (of which you know damn well will never reach fruition), you let him sink his lips into yours.

You’re pretty in war, and even prettier in defeat. 

Jungkook thinks you’re prettiest when you’re all his. 

You think that to be his is to accept an eternal loss. 

The breath of his nose is heavy against your cheek as his lips press into yours, brows furrowed. The need for you to be lewd is abandoned, ‘cause Jungkook doesn’t even think he’ll last long enough for it. Thinks that nothing gets him closer than the flavour of your lips. 

Hips still jerking up, the sound of his skin hitting your ass echoing around the room, Jungkook fucks himself into you until he can do it no longer. Pulls away. Rips off his condom. Tosses it to the floor. Gets you face down again. Wanks himself to the point of coming undone, hot spurts of cum dripping onto your ass and spilling down to the valley of your spine.

He’s the one moaning now, your body defiled by a boy who you wish would paint you in pretty compliments instead. Still, this is a compliment. Kind of. You’re hot enough to make him cum. That’s nice, you suppose.

“Shit,” he chokes out, breathing all out of sync, heartbeat far too rapid. A light spank is tapped against your ass, then softly stroked. He soothes. Aloe on sunburn. Milk with hot sauce. Pretty kisses in the comedown of a rough fuck. 

You won’t get those. Wasn’t a particularly rough fuck, either - and yet it hurts so much when he gets up to leave.

It’s awkward. He doesn’t really say bye. Doesn’t acknowledge the fact he stoked a fire inside you that burned you from the inside out. Ignores the ashes that are scattered around your vessel, as if your soul has been ejected from its home. 

He’s warm, when you look at him. That little part of your heart has been stolen once more. He’s just feeding it back to you.

“Sorry,” he says, a hand on your doorknob. “I shouldn’t- I mean, we shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine,” you offer.

That’s the thing about Jungkook. He’ll give you the world, then realise it was never his to give. Always has to ask for it back. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, then acted as if was foolish - only to repeat the same mistakes the next evening.

It’s what he’s always done, and is what he’ll always do.

You’ll never learn. 

The shirt you chuck on to head downstairs the next morning is his. 

Far too big for you, it finishes around your thighs. Television blaring in the room beneath you, it’s obvious your housemates are awake, and even as you’re trudging down the stairs, you’re not quite sure you’re alive.

The headache of an overbearing hangover is threatening your life. You’re certain of it. The fact your housemates have the television set to what must be the maximum volume? Only further sending you to an early grave. 

And yet when you see Jungkook sitting by the breakfast bar, hair in all different directions, a bowl of cereal in front of him, and smiling in the direction of whomever else is in the room, you find yourself smiling, too. 

“Morning,” you say pleasantly as you walk into the kitchen, ready to flop your forehead down on Jungkook’s shoulder like you so often do.

Ready, until you notice the look in his eyes when he turns to face you.

Ready, until you glance in the direction of his previous smile.

Ready, until you see the girl who looks a lot like his ex-girlfriend and absolutely nothing like you leaning on the other side of the counter. Mug from your trip to Amsterdam together in her hands, and the shirt you got him for his birthday covering her body, she smiles.

You’re drowning.

“Oh,” you say, not looking at him. Only her. “I didn’t realise we had company.”

“Is she still here?”

“No.”

She’s awkward as she nods. “Sorry, hey. I crashed here last night - hope you don’t mind? It’s just you know what it’s like getting an uber at that time-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod. Smile. Jungkook thinks you look pretty - but of course he does. You look defeated. “Totally.”

“Did you fuck her?

“No, Diz. I didn't fuck her.”

“Jungkook said you were feeling unwell last night?” She tries to make conversation. She needn’t. You feel far more unwell now than you ever did last night - and that’s before you notice the pretty purple bruise forming on her neck. “How are you feeling now?”

Her care is kind. Considerate. Wholly wasted on you because you’re gonna lie, and say that you’re fine, even though it feels as if your lungs have been filled with venom spat by a lover who is incapable of loving.

Still, you don’t look at Jungkook. Just make your excuses. Leave.

And even though he knows that he should, Jungkook doesn’t chase after you. 

He lets you go, because he knows you’ll always come back. You always do.

But if you don't?

Well, he’ll go back to you, and you’ll let him. Again, you always do.

From the kitchen, Jungkook can hear your showering starting up. Appetite lost, he isn’t listening to the girl in front of him. Isn’t even really sure of her name.

All that he’s sure of is that the fall out of this is not gonna be pretty.

wait.... so if mc is directly related to Arima... are we going with maternal half-siblings or that his parents had another kid?

Also the profiles have sibling pairs where someone is ghoul and others are human... did the CCG create a family clan (primarily the kim clan👀) that has something similar to the Garden...?

Last question, I promise, are the half-ghouls artificial or born half-ghouls??? Anyway, love the series! And I hope you're doing well Winter💜💜💜

first q; no! 🤩 nothing of sort. mc is pure kishou but was separated from her family at young age due to some complications :( mc was then adopted by the jeons!

second q; :o who told u abt thee garden! but if u know u know. to give an insight for this q (bcs i don’t want to spoil too much). in intoxicated, it was mentioned that the kim clan overthrew jung clan and now reign as the head of kccg. it was also mentioned that ever since then, kims have been exploiting half humans which was referring to the Garden as you mentioned! but we are going to discuss more abt the Garden on next chapter ~

you just unlocked the hint for next chapter of ghoul!!

—Garden. (prodigies)

last q; it depends! i cant let the cat out of the bag 😝 but lets analyse it together. so far, known ghouls are tae, jimin, and yoongi. pushing tae out of the list since he’s not a half ghoul which leaves us with yoongi and jimin! if we look carefully at their undercover to manage blend in with human perfectly, this gives away that they might be born/natural half ghouls! keyword: might!

and thank you sm for asking these!! i love seeing the theories coming in :3

Oh, angel, don’t feel sorry for anything, don’t apologise for anything :(

If this offers you at least a piece of peace; we are all humans, we make mistakes and surely break some promises here and there but that definitely doesn’t make you any less. At least if you think about it.

My heart bleeds for you when I read “writing felt like a chore” because I know how struggling it is to the point it became like that— unimaginable pain for me, for writers.

I’ve been following you since you first posted your original works on Tumblr and I’ve been a huge fan since. I remember being spoiled by you too; promising new contents in short period of time. It just shows much of a hardworking and caring person you are. Cared too much sometimes. You can let go of a few responsibilities (coc ep, dlsl) and carry on a new one if that would make you feel better. Your readers are always there, interested to read your masterpiece. Always.

We may not be close but I’m speaking from the perspective of a person who really loves and always looking forward to your arts. And I will always look forward to it no matter how long. Write whenever you feel like it. Write whenever you have the effort to. Do everything at your pace as no one is rushing you. Come back whenever you want as I will always be here to read whatever you write. <3

I don’t know what you want to hear/read, hence I could only offer you what I want to tell you :’)

You deserve good night sleep. You deserve waking up to a good morning. You deserve easy days. I hope the world is easier on you. I hope you prioritise yourself more, angel <3

first of all, i wanna say thank you for the sweet messages. i really appreciate them and they gave me such warmth and comfort. although, i have to admit—it took me many days before i read them because i felt anxious (oh yeah—during the time i wasn’t here, i was clinically diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anxiety). lately, i’ve just been a ball of anxiety. it’s hard for me to even open a message from my friends because i’m scared that it might be bad news. so when i finally gained the courage to read yours, i felt so comforted. so, again, thank you so much. ♡

secondly, i know i have to address coc epilogue and dura lex, sed lex. however, before i do, let me go back to the beginning of the creation of go1denjeon. to cut the story short, i created this blog after i got out of a very toxic relationship and writing had always been the one thing in my life i felt liberated and free to do so i began writing again after feeling like i had been locked in a cage for a year. hence, i wrote taking over you—kind of my way to “free” myself too much like how reader there did.

when i wrote coc, i never really thought it people would read it bc i already knew it was going to be dark as fuck. i knew i wouldn’t hold back and write it the way i envisioned it in my head. then, it became this huge thing, and while i was so grateful and will always be—its weight became so huge to carry that i began to hate it just as much as i loved it. but alas, i managed to finish it. even managed to release the first two parts of the epilogue series which i was really excited to publish—trust me—but life, writer’s block, and other personal matters intervened with me finishing it.

truthfully, while i was away, i debated whether or not to deactivate go1denjeon. i no longer had the energy to write anything. writing felt like a chore. it no longer gave me that feeling of freedom. it didn’t give me purpose. the passion was lost. i got depressed, and so many things were (still do) happening in my life that i just wanted to rot away. even wanting to die seemed like a chore.

but then i got a hold of myself and decided to just let this blog be. to have my stories here live on until i die. because it gave somebody something to look forward to once. because it was a reminder that, once upon a time, i had it in me to freely write and do what i loved the most.

my mind’s such a mess rn so i’m just writing from the heart.

here’s the important bit: i think i’ll discontinue coc epilogue and dura lex, sed lex. with the current state of my mental health, i don’t think it’s healthy for me to tap into the darker side of my pysche to continue yan-centered stories.

i want to apologize for not fulfilling my promises. i wish i came back here with a good news about coc and dlsl.

i want to write freely again and there are ideas in my mind that i want to work on. but i feel like i don’t have the right to write them—and this isn’t to gain sympathy or pity. i just feel so awful that i didn’t fulfill my promises. believe it or not, they keep me up most nights. this blog, you guys never really left my mind while i was away.

i hope you find it in your heart to forgive me. ♡

now, will i write again? i have some ideas i’m working on as i said but i feel like i have no right to write them. idk. honestly, i want to write but my mind isn’t just in the zone yet. i have rewritten this one fic dozens of times haha :( and idk, idk if i could still post my stories here, if ever, because i truly feel awful for my broken promises to you guys. hay

anyway, this is getting too long. it’s sunday here and god, do i hate this day so much. take care of yourself. i love you.

addendum: it’s so sad logging back in here and learning how authors have deactivated :(

uwah thank you for mentioning ghoul, lovely. ‘tis an honour to be on your library ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

baby bear’s honey.

⊹ liveyun reads, 2023 (: !! taehyung ver.

—⊹ joon and seokjin’s library

—⊹ yoongi’s library

hello hello :3 welcome back to my library, but as usual a failed attempt to organise them all :( i remember reading SO many golden fics, but these are only some i could manage to find <\3 and the most heartbreaking news is that one of my all time favorites have been deleted by the author.. ;-:

as always, if possible, your feedbacks to the authors are always appreciated and welcome.

most of these fics are rated M, and abiding by the author's wishes, you have to be 18+ in order to read them. however, i’m not responsible for the content you consume online, hence, reader's discretion is adviced.

[ ♪ ] : series | [ ★ ] : favorites | [ a ] : angst | [ f ] : fluff [ s ] : smut | [ d ] : dark/horror

⊹ nox by @hobidreams ( 10.5k, a, s, f ) ★🧛🏻

⊹ of lace and lust by @hobidreams ( 11.2k+, a,s,f ) ★ 🪞

⊹ with love by @rosaetae (5.4k, a) ★ 💔💔

⊹ tempting by @kinktae ( 20k+, a, s ,d, f ,♪) ★ 😈👼

⊹ the art of tenderness by @sahmfanficbts (9.3k+,a, s, f)★🍡

⊹ tolerate it by @archivedkookie ( 9.3k+, a, s, f, ♪,) ★ 💔

⊹ a human touch by @snackhobi ( 39k+, a, s, f ♪ ) ★ 🤖

⊹ after midnight by @watashijeon (7.9k, s, a, ♪) ★ 💔🚬

⊹ maybe i do by @chateautae ( 120k+ , a, s , f , ♪) ★ ❤️🩹

⊹ salt + shadow by @floralseokjin ( 10k +, s ) 😈

⊹ don't scream by @hobimyhope (10k+, s, d ) ☠️

⊹ all i want for christmas is you by @ladyartemesia (17k,s,a,c)

⊹ only you by @blue-jade ( 10k+, a, s ) 💔

⊹ still blue by @beahae ( 3k, f, s, a) 💔..❤️🩹

⊹ the sketch and the smaller eye by @blueberryarchive (8k+ a,s,f)

⊹ tanzanite treasures by @kth1 ( 11.8k, a, s, f) 🧜🏻

⊹ black ravens by @kth1 ( 21k+, s, f, d ,♪) 🧛🏻

⊹ the key to my drawer by @jjungkookislife ( 10k+ a,s,f) 🗝️

⊹ fall from grace by @sunnebeam (3k+, a, s, f)👑

⊹ a year's interlude by @aseaofyoongi (10.9k+, a,s,f) 👑★

⊹ ghoul by @kthyg ( 4k+, s, d ) ☠️

⊹ between the lines by @btsgotjams27 ( 1.3k, f ) 👨🏻‍🎓👩‍🎓

again, a simple remainder. if there's a series which is put on hold or isn't completed yet, don't be an ass and pester them about updates. we all are trying our best, okay?

here's my own masterlist if you wanna read my stories ( self promo? 😍👎🏽)

wintaebee, have you ever thought of writing a fic with japanese high school settings? 😮‍💨

YES. Yes, I have. 🔛🔝!! I think I was like inspired to write it when I was reading School Fucking Sucks! Series by @sluttyandere 🤩