#also have i been spelling degradation wrong this Entire Time omfg how embarrassing seriously

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame Chapter 5

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: Degradation, Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Mentions of Oral and Vaginal Sex, Mentions of Voyeurism, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry...

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You allow the water to reach your chest before reaching behind to turn the taps off and sinking deeper into the bath with a contented sigh. You don’t know how long you’re in there, alone, before Jin comes back, talking congenially about the abysmal state of the couch in the sitting room. To your mild surprise, as he chatters, he strips. Casually, without even pausing for breath, he sheds all of his clothes straight to the ground to pool at his feet. Even as you stare at him, he makes a shooing motion with his arms to encourage you to scoot forwards so that he can get into the sizeable tub behind you. You shudder at the feeling of his bare skin against you again, but just as easily relax into him as he seems entirely preoccupied with cleaning the both of you with a sponge he gathers off the side.

“I did my best with the sofa and the armchair,” he continues, scrubbing up one of your arms, “But we got all sorts of body fluids on it and it’ll take a little while to aerate. Might have to cut our losses as far as that goes. Which sucks, because I actually really liked that furniture set.” He pauses.

“Namjoon never liked that sofa. This was probably his plan from the start. The bastard.”

He sighs when he reaches your hands, and you can feel him shift, the water moving with him.

“I needed that, anyways. Don’t tell him he was right, but damn him, Namjoon was right.” He focuses on cleaning each finger, running the sponge against the delicate webbing between each digit. You crane your head over your shoulder as he does, pulling his concentration momentarily from his work. His eyes sparkle when they swivel to meet yours. His skin glows in the gentle light of the lamps. His cheeks look soft and well-fed and the darkness under his eyes is gone.

“…You look better,” you finally say. His face softens. A gentle smile purses his lips.

You feel the sponge travel back up your arms, his other hand brushing your hair back from your neck.

“I didn’t mean to take so much.” Jin murmurs, mouth quirking in a half-frown. “I guess it was worse than I thought.”

As the sponge cleans your wound, as sparingly as you imagine he can manage, you stifle your desire to flinch away from the pinpricks of residual pain and pleasure by turning your head and thinking, watching the bubbles waver on the surface of the water. This situation is, for all its confusing contradictions, familiar. There’s a word for this. You frown, wishing your head worked as well as you’d like it to. But you know there’s a word to describe this.

“You’ll have to stay in my room until Namjoon comes back. I’ll go out to get some real food, but the boys obviously don’t have any self-control when it comes to you.” He abandons the sponge in favor of massaging his long fingers into your scalp, working some sweet-smelling shampoo into it. Your eyes close with the calming sensation, leaning towards the wet heat of his chest. “What do you have to say about that? Hmm? Little temptress?”

“I…” The tongue in your mouth doesn’t feel like yours, it’s so heavy. Vaguely, you recall what it was Jungkook had called your state. “…I’m hazy.”

He pauses. “Just until the pain fades.” He replies, his tone soft. “Let me get you clean, bandaged, clothed. Then we can talk.”

You hum agreeably.

The rest of your bath is spent in comfortable silence. He finishes his thorough wash of you, and even allows you to help him scrub the wide expanse of his back while you secretly admire the muscles rippling beneath the skin. When you’re both clean, he helps you out of the tub like someone escorting a newborn deer, parceling you in a huge towel that smells vaguely like he does. With the same intent care as he cleaned your body, he pats and rubs you dry, even coaxing a comb through your wet hair. The pajamas he lends you are too big, but thankfully cinch closed at the waist, though the top swallows you whole. As you slide it on, you take note of your improving reaction time. The fog steadily dissipating from your mind. You decide not to comment on it, taking instead to obediently following his hushed directions, next taking a seat on the edge of the tub. You watch him as he retrieves a bandage from a nearby cabinet and reaches to situate it over the puncture marks on your neck, asking repeatedly if it’s too tight, too loose, whether it hurts. Which it has begun to, you notice while he secures the fabric. A dull ache, followed by a sharp sensation if you move your head a certain way. An answering heat curls in your belly when you recall the pleasure that had previously accompanied that ache.

Caused by two pairs of sharp teeth. Hmm.

 Jin must recognize the ponderous expression on your face, because he leads you out of the bathroom to sit on the bed taking up the majority of the room outside of it. An en-suite. The bed is like the one in the room previous, but much more frequently used—it’s not even made, and you have to shift the thick duvet to the side in order to perch on the mattress across from him, your legs dangling off the edge.

“So,” he begins, eyes searching yours.

He might well be looking you over to see if you’re going to run away. You aren’t sure whether you want to yet. You blink slowly at him.

“So.” You repeat.

“Are you okay?”

Your lips purse. You cast a glance to the side, at the sizeable wardrobe in the corner. Briefly, you wonder what it would be like to clamber inside of it. There’s a guitar leaning against it, and across from that a tidy bookshelf though some of the tomes have collected a layer of dust you can see even from here. A book sat face-down on the top has three separate bookmarks between its yellowed pages. What could it be about? Oh, right, Jin. You try harder to concentrate on his question. There’s a throbbing between your thighs, but you suspect that’s standard for the beating you’ve endured. Your neck hurts, obviously. The frustration at your lack of mental facilities is what’s bothering you most at the moment—considering there is a word that you just can’t reach for. But even as maddening as it is, you can feel your mind clearing.

“…you bit me.” It sounds more accusatory than you mean, but he doesn’t seem to take offense. His head bounces and he blinks slowly, looking briefly to the side.

“I did.”

“It hurts.” You try again, petulant.

His eyes flit back to yours, a bemused expression crossing his face. “I’m…sorry?”

“Better.”

Jin snorts, his grin growing. “Is that all?”

You pause to think. “I don’t…remember anything.”

“No.”

“Taehyung said it was his fault.” You shift backwards, almost startled at the speed with which you’re making connections now. “And Jungkook said I was supposed to be his present.”

“…Yes?”

You clarify. “He was supposed to bite me.”

“He was. Well, not really. I’m kind of glad that he didn’t.”

You frown, still trying to thread everything together. “Namjoon said I belonged to him.”

It’s Jin’s turn to pause, looking back off into space as if it holds the answers he’s trying to give, leaning back and clasping his hands in his lap.

“I know it’s not…ideal.” He begins slowly. “I didn’t want to…You saw the way I looked.”

You consider his appearance when you first saw him. “Bad.”

“Exactly. We made rules, a long time ago. Who can hunt where, that sort of thing, so that nobody has to go hungry. Jungkook and Taehyung and Jimin—they broke those rules. They weren’t supposed to be anywhere near the club they found you at. I don’t know what possessed them to go so far from our borders, but what’s done is done, I guess.” He shakes his head ruefully, rolling his eyes.

“I just don’t want to start a fight. So, in a way, yes. You belong to Namjoon. You’ll go back to him later.”

“But Taehyung took my memories,” you argue. “I don’t remember where I belong.”

“I know.”

When he reaches forward, towards your hand, you flinch away, surprised at the anger flaring briefly inside of you. The curious look on his face is almost enough to change your mind, but you hold firm. He reclines back with his palms outward in a placating gesture.

“Look. I’ll keep you healthy, and I’ll keep you safe. And if you don’t want anything else from me, I won’t do anything else. Namjoon will pick you up after you’ve healed and take you back to his part of town. Which is where you’re from, right? But if you run away now, I’ll have to catch you and bring you back anyway. Might even have to chain you up or something, and I promise that won’t be fun. Do you understand how this works?”

You peer at him, and he stares back.

 “I don’t…want to be hazy anymore.” You say finally.

“It helps with the pain—“

“I don’t like not having my own thoughts,” you interrupt. “And every time it happens I have to put everything together again from scratch.”

“I just don’t want you to panic.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Well, I do,” you insist. He laughs a little, eyes scrunching.

“Okay, how about this.” Jin leans forward, conspiratorially. “I’ll ask your permission to help you a little if your neck is bothering you—I know it can be really bad sometimes. It’s an awkward place to be hurt, the neck. There’s no exercising it properly.”

You think on his offer, watching him with suspicion. “…Okay.”

“But if you panic, I’m going to use it. I can’t just let you run around, you’ll get hurt. Or lost.”

“Can’t have your peace treaty getting broken.” You mutter, raising an eyebrow.

He grins crookedly, as though relieved you’re finally understanding. “No.”

 A spark of something occurs to you and you seize it, a wry smirk curling one side of your mouth.

“Or fucked a lot.”

His grin falters. “N-no.”

“Do all of you fuck like that?”

“Like?”

“Like a…horse,” you clarify, adding after a pause. “A stallion, that’s what it is, yeah. That’s the word.”

He blinks, flustered. “I…honestly wouldn’t know, but I’m flattered you apparently count me in that number.”

“I wasn’t counting you, just weighing…options.” It’s something like rebellion, to retort this way. You’re glad for it, like an old friend you’ve rekindled with.

“Not an option,” he warns. He raises an eyebrow like he’s playing along, but his tone is cautious. “I’ll keep everything you need in this room, alright? If you set one off, they’re all going to lose it.” He pauses. “It’s been a while since this house has been properly fed. You’ll be so much safer if no one even knows you’re here.”

 You think on what he’s told you. Consider the possibilities, and run through what you think of everything you know thus far.

You believe him when he says they’ll chase you down if you run. And considering that none of them are likely human—instead something that you can’t fucking remember the name of just yet—you don’t doubt they’ll catch you without a problem. Plus you don’t know where you’d even be going. Where you’d be running to. But maybe, eventually, you can get your memories back, with enough of a push.

And if you can bargain cooperation for your own thoughts in the meantime, well.

Maybe it’ll be worth it to play along for now. Just for the long game.

In any case, you can tell you’re not getting any further with Jin without acting the part.

“…okay, I guess.”

“Okay?”

“What choice do I have?”

Jin’s mouth quirks again, into what could almost be a smile, but isn’t. “Not much.”

“Not much,” you echo. “Yeah.”

 He nods. Pats his thighs in a gesture of finality and stands from the bed, casting a glance about the room.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, then,” he says. “Gotta go and get you some real food for you.”

You nod back.

“The door doesn’t lock from the outside, so if you need it locked, you have to do it yourself.”

“Uh-huh.”

He looks for a moment like he’s considering something. He glances back at you.

“Don’t... Don’t open the door, okay?”

There’s something weird about expecting something to happen when it doesn’t. A thrill runs through you when your mind remains un-fogged.

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Jin. I’m not going to open the door.” You hesitate, as if musing to yourself. “I don’t know if I can walk, actually.”

He actually flushes a shade of red and you take the smug pleasure that comes with watching it spread across his face. “…Sorry.”

You shrug. He doesn’t seem to know where to look, but finally inclines his head again and turns towards the door. You watch him open it and cast one last placating, unsure smile your way which you return without even trying to be convincing. He closes it slowly and it clicks shut. Still perched on the bed, you sit still, listening for his footsteps. They fade out, down the hall. You count to twenty.

Long game be damned.

 Ignoring the ache in your legs and neck, at twenty, you throw yourself off the bed and haul towards the window, admittedly waddling a little. You grasp a handful of heavy curtain and throw it aside, revealing it to be nighttime. God, you’ve missed knowing what time it is. You’re scrabbling for the window lock, casting a brief glance at the scene outside of it.

It’s too dark to see much—a bare tree or two, a cobblestone road, a fountain that doesn’t seem to be running. There’s what looks to be a curved entrance sign a little ways down, but you can’t make out what it says. If you had to guess, you’d say you’re on the second floor, which tracks with what you’ve noticed. Not ideal, but doable, especially if there’s a hedge underneath and even if not, you can tie the duvet cover to the edge of the bed or something. The window clicks as you find the lock and you allow yourself a hushed yes of triumph, straining to push it upwards—

You freeze.

Voices.

They’re too close, coming in from the crack you’ve made in the window, drifting in with the cool night breeze. They must be right underneath you.

You hold your breath, suddenly mortified that they might have heard the sound of the window opening, but the conversation continues without a hitch and with the window slightly open, you can now hear it almost perfectly.

“—didn’t have a choice, you know that. It was before your time, anyways.” Jimin, trying to be authoritative but increasingly bitter.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” Jungkook’s voice, sarcastic and unconvinced, interrupts, “The ‘best for everyone’, right?”

“You didn’t live through it,” Jimin retorts, and there’s a tone of anger rising in his words that legitimately sends chills snaking into the pit of your stomach, “You think you’re hungry now? Trust me, you don’t know shit.”

“I get it, okay, times have been tough.” Jungkook growls low, frustrated, and you can hear him kick at the gravel at his feet. “I’m just saying it doesn’t make any sense to just…give it all away? She was supposed to be a gift for me, for my birthday, and I didn’t even get any of her. You heard her screaming. There probably isn’t anything left. How is that fair?”

You flush at the realization that the entire household probably heard you caterwauling on Jin’s dick. Oops.

“We shouldn’t have been out there anyways. Calling Namjoon was the right thing to do. He already knew we were there and if we’d lied to him about it, we would have been in deep shit. We did the right thing by coming clean.” He doesn’t sound too convinced himself.

“That’s easy for you to say.” Jungkook’s voice drops straight into hell and you can hear the venom hidden in the velvet of his tone, faux conversational. “How did my present’s pussy taste, by the way?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Half as sweet as it smelled? God, it smelled sweet. Did you fuck your pillow after, licking what was left of her off your lips? Did you suck every drop off your collar and fist yourself thinking about what it would have been like to bite down?” Your stomach coils at the mental image but you try in vain to ignore it.

“Go slurp at your bedsheets if you want to know so badly,” Jimin shoots back, sour. There’s a heavy pause, laden with anger, and you half expect a fight to break out. But nothing happens. You can hear the skittering of gravel as someone turns violently away, steps retreating towards the building.

Your heartbeat is deafening in your own ears, and you remember vaguely what Taehyung had said about being able to hear you—but considering the topic of conversation, you doubt either noticed. You monitor your breathing as your ears strain to catch any sign of the other leaving so you can resume your escape.

It’s silent.

Silent enough for long enough that you begin to doubt yourself.

Were there two sets of footsteps after all? There might have been, but you could swear there was only one.

Just when you’re beginning to debate continuing, there’s a slow crunch from beneath the sill. Something moves in the dark and your breath catches in your throat as the dim light shines off strands of blonde hair and you recognize Jimin stepping forward into view. He turns to survey the direction you heard the steps vanish and just…stands there for a moment.

There’s a part of you that screams to go back inside the room. Close the window. Stop looking. But he’s so beautiful and you’re caught admiring him despite yourself. Full, pouty lips curled in a soft frown, his expression morose, almost regretful, as he surveys the path in front of him. What little light there is plays on the gentle curves of his face, glows in his hair, glitters off his eyes in a way you’re fairly certain it doesn’t on humans. When his gaze casts down, you can see his eyelashes brushing his cheek, even from this distance. How does one person get so pretty…?

 His head swivels smoothly and he glances up, straight towards you, eyes glinting.

 Fear yanks you down, out of sight, underneath the windowsill, heart pounding, head swimming, veins thrumming. You hope he didn’t see you. But you can’t convince yourself that he didn’t. The image of his steady, calm look is seared into your mind’s eye and you swear you can feel him staring through the wall you’re curled against.

There’s no way you’re leaving through this window, not tonight. You can’t even breathe past the knot in your chest until you hear him finally peel off and follow Jungkook inside.

Some part of you waits for the knock at Jin’s door, the inevitable foiling of any thought of escape you might have, the sweet temptation of those soft lips and soft voice. But it doesn’t come.

And in the quiet, mind still spinning, swirling with his patient, predatory stare, the deeply primal sense of being hunted, you finally catch up to the thought you’ve been chasing.

 Vampire.

They’re called vampires.

 …Fuck.

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