#bts Halloween

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Howl at Midnight

Pairing | werewolf!Jimin x human!Reader

Word Count | 7.5k

Warnings | +18, angst, smut, halloween theme, an apparently abandoned castle (don't trespass on other people's property 🤧), mentions of a pact made with the city's residents, poison, MC doesn't really have much choice 💀, forced nudity, dark themes and also yandere (?), underneath MC finds the situation exciting, bites and marks, sink the canines and drink blood, PWP, oral sex, pussy worship, dubcon, begging, virginity loss, unprotected sex (use protection!), vaginal sex, big dick, knotting, MC abandons herself to her fate (I think Jimin's supernatural nature contributes in MC's choices), eat cum, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is dark and yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You always thought you lived in a quiet, small town. You never imagined that the locals would be able to keep such a secret for centuries, you fell into their trap… But it doesn't seem so bad.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys!!! 🥹

My best friend and I challenged each other to write a Halloween-themed story using the following keywords: werewolf - halloween - virginity - castle - poison.

I don't know why I came up with such a story, it was supposed to be something simple but my dark side took over WAY too much 💀

Anyway my best friend liked the story and suggested that I publish it, so here it is, I already apologize for any mistakes and for the plot which is not who knows what 🥺

Howl at Midnight was written for recreation, but I still hope you enjoy it ❤️

PS: I really didn't know how to classify this story, when in doubt I put the warning “yandere,” since there are behaviors that go a little beyond 😵‍💫

Permanent Taglist | @katherine-kookie, @btsuga-d, @reallygenerouskoala, @takemeaway5402, @velvet-stardust2002, @jimincrystal, @ke1k029, @kylafox09, @pantara, @themwordsblog, @angelicsmilesworld

It's a rather dark night, you think, as the flickering lights of street lamps barely illuminate your path. You and some of your friends have decided to spend Halloween night roaming the more desolate streets of your small town, rather than attend the party of the school's homecoming queen, the most popular and at the same time most hated girl ever by you and your friends, a common ground that has certainly welded your friendship.

You are reminded of the afternoon you spent at Glenn's house deciding how you would spend Halloween night; Glenn's initiative had been rather unique, since he was not a fan of that holiday.

“It will be fun, everything is so scary at night, we might even meet a real vampire! I mean, not like Edward Cullen, I mean one who doesn't sparkle-” but Glenn's excited monologue had been badly interrupted by his girlfriend, Claire, who had hit him over the head with a book, and who knows why, said book was actually titled Twilight. You remember giggling, willingly accepting that idea, but now...

“We were simply supposed to go for a walk, Glenn,” you mutter ruefully, looking around, “Do you want to tell me where you're taking us?”

The red-haired boy snorts again, settling into his vampire costume bought at a thrift store stall, “Come on Y/N, what would life be without a little thrill?”

Claire, for her part, nods in turn with a euphoric smile, as if she knows something you don't, prancing merrily dressed as a red devil among black lace decorations and lace.

“Life would be as it has always been, wonderful,” you blurt out nervously, freezing suddenly.

The asphalt has run out and the streetlights have stopped dimly illuminating the entire street, you are at the edge of the most talked about lands in your town. When and how exactly did you get there?

“Here we are, my girls,” you hear Glenn say, satisfied with his feat.

“What are we doing here?” you swallow, far from cheerful.

Answering you is Claire, “It's an abandoned castle and this is Halloween night, what do you say?”

You grit your teeth, shaking your head, “You're crazy, I'm not going in there!” you take a step back, your heart stirring, but Glenn stops you in a single moment.

“Where do you think you're going? I promised your brother I'd keep an eye on you,” he tells you sternly, and you know he's right, you can't just leave on your own, the streets are empty but it would still be dangerous.

“Don't you want to see what it's really like inside, aren't you the least bit curious?”

Short answer? No.

More articulate answer? Fuck no.

“Come on, don't be a wimp now!”

You snort, casting a glance at the castle in question.

It is as large as it is gloomy; the older inhabitants of the town have always spoken of the presence of various monsters within it, which is why the lands surrounding the castle are so large, preventing the actual growth of the otherwise large and well-populated town. Some of the land had been ceded to keep the monsters quiet.

That's some bullshit. And you're certainly not a wimp.

What will you find in there, maybe overgrown spiders? You shake your head, certainly nothing up to the Acromantulae seen in Harry Potter.

“I'm not afraid,” you limit yourself to saying, Glenn and Claire seem satisfied with your answer as they begin to step over half of the downed iron bars surrounding the gates of the immense building. It bothers you that they haven't bothered beyond you, but it's Halloween night; you can't really spoil their fun.

You hold on tightly to one of the rusty old iron bars, lift one leg trying not to fall off because of the bulky skirt of your witch costume, and end up straight on the ground covered with dry mud and grass, thank the heavens that it hasn't rained in the last few days, otherwise goodbye costume, although more like an elegant medieval dress and nothing more than that.

“Guys, wait for me!” you exclaim as you turn toward them, but you find yourself rolling your eyes.

The darkness is almost completely pitch black, only the moon high in the sky gives you some brightness in that open space surrounded by green trees and uncultivated grass. Your friends are not there.

“Please tell me this is a joke, please,” you growl, turning only a few seconds to climb over the railing, “Glenn? Claire?”

A shiver of unease snakes down your spine, as if someone - or something - is watching you. But you immediately banish the absurd thought. The Halloween atmosphere always makes everything quite scary; your friends chose that place for that very reason.

Imagining that you simply find them in front of the castle's entrance, you also wander down the path that actually looks like anything else by now. You will meet each other there.

The wind blows without worrying about your bare shoulders because of the dress's boat neckline; the cape had long since been taken away along the way. You bought it in an antique store and the elderly man seemed quite eager to get rid of it. He even gave you a discount.

The sound of falling leaves under the force of the draught is quite terrifying, especially now that you've discovered you can't use your cell phone. There is absolutely no service there, and isn't that how the best horror movies begin?

A frustrated groan leaves your throat, you don't have to think about it.

“Glenn?” you try to call out once more, but along the path echoes the hoots of an owl that is probably scrutinizing you with condescension, wondering why a silly girl like you is wandering around in such a desolate, godforsaken place.

When you arrive at the gates of the castle, you find yourself admiring the extraordinary Gothic architecture of the huge, ancient building made of stone and marble. The fact that it has survived over the centuries without any kind of restoration is a testament to the good materials that were used.

One by one, you walk down the stone steps, sudden thunder jolts you violently, and with fear in your veins you throw yourself toward the immense reinforced door, finding it ajar, a sign that Glenn and Claire must have already entered. You ignore the hint of annoyance, since they could at least wait for you, you must escape the sudden storm.

Wordlessly you notice the large, thick black clouds enveloping the sky, obscuring even the immense full moon.

You carefully close the ancient gateway, looking around the thick-walled atrium decorated with paintings that are surely worth more than your current home, not to mention the carpet you are walking on, though a bit worn, is definitely from the time of the castle's founding. You wonder which lord lived there and whether it can be traced in the history books.

“Claire?” you whisper, afraid of disturbing someone, but who exactly?

Sighing wearily, you really have no time or inclination to play along with your friends, you rest your hand on the wrought-iron railing of the staircase, beginning to climb so that you can find those two idiots as soon as possible and get home safely.

They say 'God makes them and then matches them up,' right? You mentally growl, well, you would’ve just wiped them out instead.

Between corridors that are not real corridors but dead ends, some narrow and some exaggeratedly large, you finally find the wing reserved for rooms, hating the enormity of that place.

“Hey, you ... are you here?” you ask, slowly opening a bedroom door with one eye closed and one only slightly open, fearing to find the two lovebirds doing strange things in the leto of an abandoned castle, because they would be perfectly capable of it.

But what you find is just a lavishly decorated bedroom absolutely empty of any other life forms but you.

“This is definitely a joke,” you chuckle mirthlessly, clutch your arms to your chest, and continue that unwelcome tour of yours, continuing to open rooms at random, with no more expectation of finding anyone in them, until you come to a rather large bedroom.

Quite different from the others, which up to that point had been yes, beautiful, but empty, lacking a soul.

This one was immense just like the castle itself, yet warm, thanks to the burning fireplace. The four-poster bed was adorned with red silk sheets, as were the velvet curtains tied to the solid wooden columns, on the walls finely decorated with gold paint were hung medieval tapestries, depicting hunting parties, running horses and wolves, wolves everywhere. One that particularly strikes you depicts two wolves and a woman in the center, they seem ready to bite her fiercely, you notice with discomfort.

High glass windows with curtains left open allow lightning to illuminate the entire room, followed by a terrible, howl-like rumble.

That horrible noise seems to awaken you from the sort of trance you fell into while admiring the surely master bedroom, and you finally take serious note of the burning fire. Why a working fireplace in a castle uninhabited for years?

“To many the night brings counsel, to me it has brought a lovely maiden, I see...” you gasp surprised and terrified, turning toward the silky, warm, yet slightly hoarse, almost growling voice.

A relatively young man watches you with his shoulder resting against one of the stained glass windows. You had not seen him. No. He was not there before, you are absolutely sure.

His dark, shiny hair has been grown down to his neck, some curling around his sharp, elegant jaw, the neck left bare by his unbuttoned, white shirt is a set of sinuous, sharp, powerful lines. The soft black pants do nothing to hide the wonderful figure of his long legs, his feet are bare, you notice. He feels perfectly comfortable, as if... as if that were his home.

“I-I... I'm sorry, it's Halloween and some friends of mine thought...” you try to explain with your hands clasped to the skirt of your dress, but you are immediately interrupted by the man's sophisticated, sassy giggle.

“They thought it was a brilliant idea to violate my property?” you pale at his question.

“We... the whole town believes the castle is uninhabited,” you reply with a shy breath, trying to justify them.

The young man breaks away from the glass window, slowly approaching you, you take steps back, inadvertently bumping into one of the pillars of the bed.

“And does it look uninhabited to you, little girl?”

Little girl? By the look of him, he wouldn't seem that much older than you, in fact.

Now that he has moved closer, standing only a foot away from you, you notice details of his face that you did not catch a few moments earlier.

He has high, pronounced cheekbones, and his lips seem so plump and soft that you blush at the thought of kissing them, his nose is well-proportioned and straight, while the peculiar shape of his eyes gives him a rather sweet and angelic air, although the fun written in them is anything but angelic.

“I didn't know, I'm really sorry, sir,” and it's true, the last thing you want is to be a nuisance to someone you don't even know, “I'll get my friends back and we'll leave right away, I promise.”

Dark eyes rimmed with long eyelashes watch you closely, before dropping to the rest of your body. Suddenly you remember the deep cleavage of your witch's dress, your skin burning under his watchful gaze.

“Right now there is no one else in the castle, except you and me,” he approaches again, you can feel his warm breath meet your neck, you shiver as the man clasps one hand above your head, around the pillar of the bed, doing the same with the other. This makes it clear how statuesque his physique is, compared to your more petite one, you also catch a subtle citrus fragrance, light and not cloying, is that him?

With a huge effort, you process his words, widening your eyes. No one else?

“But how-”

“In my opinion you made it all up, little girl,” he sneers, "Just admit that it was your curiosity that drove you here," but you shake your head, vehemently denying it.

“I really came here with friends!” you fret, you've never been good at handling pressure and this guy is not helping you at all.

“Oh, really?” a devilish smile makes its way across his soft, smooth cheeks, "So it's just a coincidence that you're wearing this dress?" you don't know how to answer the question, you can't, not when he lowers a hand over you, brushes the outline of your face with a finger, trailing down the delicate line of your neck to your cleavage, your rippling, shivering skin longs to receive his touch once more, you struggle to recover.

“Th-this dress?” you stammer in shame, his finger is still grazing your chest and you are doing nothing to push it away.

“Mh-mh,” he nods, pushing your cleavage down a few millimeters, enough to make you squeak with red cheeks, “How much do you know about this castle and its owners, little girl?”

Nothing, you'd like to answer, but your eyes already communicate your answer as he pulls back, finally letting you breathe. His scent still hovers around you, though.

“Year 1479, the people of the town of Howl enter into an agreement with the seven lords of Midnight, ceding a part of their lands to these noble lords and agreeing to send a virgin once every ten years, on the so-called Halloween Night,” he narrates, leaving you speechless, “In return, none of the townspeople would be hunted down and killed, does that ring a bell?”

“L-Listen to me, I really don't know what you're talking about, I definitely have to go now,” you nod at your own words, but the door slams shut along with a new and terrible rumble, an anguished cry involuntarily leaving your throat.

“The dress you're wearing is soaked in poison, little girl” the imperious tone terrifies you, automatically your body closes in on itself, as a kind of protection.

“This must definitely be a joke, it is Halloween after all,” you whisper to yourself with tears in your eyes.

“It's a security, for us. It ensures that the girls don't run away, because we are the only ones who can neutralize that poison” you don't know why the man started speaking in plural, you just know that you have to leave, even though something inside you is screaming at you not to. Because it could end very badly.

“You'd better take it off, your body might absorb more poison than is really necessary, the sooner we start the better,” he sighs, beginning to take off his white shirt, showing off a well-built, smooth chest and abs studded with thin scars lighter than his skin, swallowing without any more salivation, following long lines of black ink that weave across his pecs, forming some kind of mark, perhaps related to some cult.

“What are you doing!”

The man tilts his head, his soft hair following the movement meekly, and grasps the edge of his pants, running his forefinger and thumb over it defiantly as he watches you, “I'm taking what was given to me, little girl,” he sneers again, not at all impressed by your shock.

It was not uncommon for him and his brothers to be served girls who were totally unaware of their own destiny, they were tiresome at times, they would not stop shaking and crying, praying not to be deprived of their purity, but you smell so delicious that it might make him go beyond your dullness.

The fabric of his excellent quality pants slowly flows over the flawless skin of his toned legs, the blood rushes straight to your cheeks, and your heart misses a beat with a strangled “iiih” as you realize that the stranger has not only freely undressed in front of you, but is not wearing any underwear.

You've certainly never seen a naked man in person, but based on your anatomy books, that is definitely not a normal penis.

With a strange feeling of dizziness and no little embarrassment, you realize that even at rest, it is definitely big, with a swollen base almost as big as perfectly round testicles and such obvious purplish veins that you wonder if it is actually already hard, in its own way. Could that vibrant pink be an indicator? God, what the hell are you thinking?!

After a little dizziness your eyes fly to the closed door, you have to leave, run.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks you, smiling with a hint of danger in his eyes, “Do you want to run? Run away from me? Know that this will only excite me more.”

You try to look away from his cock, with extreme difficulty, as he spoke, his cock had moved slightly, as if agreeing with the man's words. You ignore the slight jolt between your legs.

“If I can get through the gates of your property, will you let me go?” you propose almost shyly, staring into his sly eyes.

“Um... if I let you go, you'd die from the poison, but if that's what you want...” he shrugs, making you frown. The story of the poisoned dress might be bullshit to convince you to let him fuck you, but what if it's not?

You shake your head, it's all just a bluff. This man is clearly a pervert, maybe he gets off on fucking on such nights with stranger women.

“That's what I want.” you assure with a note of panic in your voice, the desire to escape is so urgent you can hardly think, “Open the door.”

But the man shakes his head, “Strip and I will leave you free to roam my lands until I find you.”

“I don't-!” the words die between your lips, his singsong expression gone, giving way to a sternness that clashes with his regal features, the difference making that contrast frightening.

“I like to play, little girl ... but I don't tolerate whining, don't make me angry, because I might decide to take you now, we have a bed available right here and now,” he hisses, clenching his fist against the polished wooden backboard of the four-poster bed. The more he looks at you, the more his balls throb fiercely; he's trying to control his desire; if his cock hardens, that's the end.

You're the first woman he's seen in 60 years, finally his turn has come, and there's no way he'll let you go. Do you want to play? He'll let you, but eventually you'll give in to his desires. The scent of your sweet virgin pussy makes his wolf growl, eager to get out to meet you.

Perhaps you sense something strange, because with trembling fingers you go to unbutton the side opening of your dress, a little sorry to him, the plunging neckline raises and shapes your breasts invitingly, though the stench of the poison with which it is imbued leaves him disgusted. An idea of humans to persuade chosen women not to flee, his eyes scroll over the ancient clock hanging above the door, the hands turn and you have just four hours to go before the poison takes effect, killing you. He would be sorry to see you die without having had a chance to taste you first.

“Tic-Tac, the clock is ticking, little girl... the slower you are, the more likely you are to die,” he informs you with a smile, your fear written all over his face igniting his loins; he has to restrain himself so he doesn't jump on you, and you're aware of that now, too.

Your eyes study his shoulders, they have stiffened noticeably, and with embarrassing speed you unfasten the last side button, letting the soft black fabric of your dress slip off like a veil, leaving you in your bra and panties. You start up under his eyes, which move to observe every nook and cranny of your body, from the soft breasts enclosed in the cups of the purple lace bra, going lower and lower, past the delicious curve of your hips to the tightly clasped mount of Venus covered by more purple lace. You yourself realize that for a man who wants to possess you, that kind of lingerie might make you look like a neatly wrapped gift in his eyes.

“Don't stop,” he tells you hoarsely, his eyes veiled with glowing lust.

The blood leaves your veins; if he were to take you, you would already be ready to receive him. As your fingers move to get rid of your bra as well, you realize you don't find it such a disturbing idea after all, even when you finally pull down the light fabric of your panties, showing off something no boy has ever had the honor of looking at, his nostrils flaring as if to inhale something in the air, you are aroused.

“You'd better start running, little girl, I'm going to give you exactly twenty seconds head start,” his voice comes out as a guttural sound, making you widen your eyes and really run, when the door suddenly opens wide.

You don't even wonder what strange contraption he used to close or open the door without having to physically do it, you just know you are definitely in danger.

Every nook and cranny of the castle is an unknown, he owns it, he may know passages unknown to you; therefore, you always try to wander the corridors with no visible openings. A tense, animalistic roar makes you scream in terror, with spirited eyes you look down the stairs, you are close to the stairs to the hall, the door has not been locked, you just need more time, you can make it.

You sling yourself barefoot down, almost tumbling from your haste and throw yourself out, skipping the stone steps and then to the wild path, short of breath and fear dictating your decisions, you remember it took you a good twenty minutes to get to the castle, but walking the whole path is out of the question, it would be too obvious and easy, you necessarily have to lengthen the path and consequently put in more time to get away from that terrifying place.

With horror you realize that you don't know where Glenn and Claire might be at all, would he hurt them if he found them?

Of course he would.

You don't know the man, but you have noticed all too well the bestial aura around him; he is someone capable of harm, and he will harm you if you cannot escape him.

Your feet step on scattered branches on the ground and you whimper trying to ignore the pain, another roar - or maybe it's a howl? - rips through the air, mingling with the howls of the rushing wind, and you stifle an anguished cry.

Scratches open along your body, trees ravaged by bad weather and never tended seem to want to block your way in every way possible, and the darkness certainly doesn't help.

Like a wounded animal you limp aimlessly, not imagining the hunger of the ravenous beast that sneers at the scent of your blood.

You feel tired, sluggish at times, your peripheral vision somewhat obscured, an excruciating doubt makes its way into your mind. Could it be that the story of the poisoned dress was true?

But why sell it to you, how could the seller have known that your friends would take you to that castle on Halloween night?

You begin to stagger, a sharp twinge in your head stops you, it is so painful that you collapse on the icy, muddy ground.

You realize you are screwed in every sense of the word when a weight suddenly crushes you to the ground, you scream in terror and wide-eyed, trying to shake it off.

Jimin doesn't think twice about clasping you in his vigorous arms, burying his nose on your neck damp with cold sweat, the accelerated beat of your heart rumbling in his own chest, driving him to moan with need. He presses himself against your soft curves, basking in your feverish warmth despite the stormy, icy night.

“Don't hurt me,” you shake your head with your eyes closed, trying to fight the unusual fatigue to plead with him, "Please, I was wrong, forgive me...I won't come back here again, I swear," the boy snorts against your flustered skin.

He reluctantly lifts himself up to allow you to turn toward him, you find some strength to open your eyelids wide, being invested by his sometimes divine appearance. His eyes, no longer as black as you thought they were, are tinged with an extraordinary shade of gold, he watches you from receptive pupils as you notice the grin on his mouth, a mouth larger than you remembered. There is something strange, not human, about him now. And despite the run he must have made to keep up with you, he doesn't have the slightest hint of fatigue in his breath, he's as fucking fresh as a newly bloomed rose.

“You're dying, little girl,” he hums, shaking some hair off your forehead, you lose a beat at the sight of long claws where once there were short, well-manicured nails.

The claw grazes your skin unhurriedly, you feel it scratch without hurting, you anxiously lick your lips closing your eyes, you are so sleepy that you even willingly accept your fate, Jimin snorts through his nose, almost laughing, before lowering himself onto your jugular.

It would be really easy for him to sink his canines into your flesh and bite your throat to rip it out, but fortunately for you he is not a vampire. All he wants is to sink his cock into your pussy and make you cum repeatedly, but if you died it would be hard to put his plan into action. He wants you alive and receptive.

He licks a long streak of saliva onto your delicate neck, heedless of the dirt that has stuck to your skin, before gently biting you. Your reaction is immediate, you start sobbing like a puppy at the feel of his fangs penetrating your flesh, you cling to his shoulders trying to move him weakly from you, and you kick awkwardly with your legs, legs that are locked in a vice grip by his. That way it is easy to feel something hard and heavy pressing against your belly, you try not to think about it as the man seems inebriated by the taste of your blood flowing straight down his throat.

The bitter taste of the poison is revolting, but fortunately your blood has such sweet notes that it counterbalances that horrendous taste in a balanced way, here, now he just has to lick your wound thoroughly. He collects the last rivulets of your blood with his tongue, before dripping his saliva into the tiny holes created by his sharp canines, little holes that begin to close with light smoke, cauterizing the wound and partly removing the poison toxins from your blood.

With no longer a grip on your throat, your head falls limply back to the ground, you gasp trying to fight off the shock of such an experience.

“Mpf!” his tongue invades your mouth treacherously, the taste of your blood making you squeal on his lips, so unfairly soft and pleasant to the touch. The hot and unusually long muscle pushes into your oral cavity eagerly, saving your life has as if awakened the more primal side of Jimin, one of the seven lords who unleashed hell in Howl's town. And the mating ritual has begun, but you cannot know this.

You break free by gasping for air, “W-why?” you stutter breathlessly, “You don't even know me!” you cry as you drive your nails into his forearms, triggering in return a reaction of possession in him, prompting him to grab your thighs and lift them onto his shoulders to your profound horror, he is so wild as he spreads your legs wide open to sink his face in between them that you can't utter a single breath.

As he runs his tongue along your pulsing, hot folds, Jimin realizes with nastiness that during your escape you got wet for him, he had smelled your arousal as he pursued you, on some people the quickened heartbeat has that effect, but the sweet and slightly salty taste of your juices are now a definitive proof for him. And you can't deny it, you love how he teases you by slowly sliding around your swollen clit, plays with it by holding it between his lips and then releasing it after sucking hard, almost biting it. He tortures it by pricking it quickly with the tip of his tongue and then returns to lapping your thick juices from the soft slit, which seems to melt every time that devilish tongue penetrates it, managing to lick and stimulate walls that a normal tongue could never reach.

You shyly move your pelvis against his face, your thighs stained with your arousal tremble against his cheeks, and a terrible heat makes you pant desperately. The man abandons your slit to push himself again against your unbearably sensitive folds, they are so moist that you can hear the noise they make every time that cursed tongue stimulates them to push a few millimeters toward your clitoris, never reaching to touch it.

“God!” you curse, suddenly reaching out an arm to grab his hair, not recognizing yourself when you desperately push him against your pussy, longing for the pleasure he was spoiling you with at first.

His arousal makes him grunt like a wounded animal as he sinks into your core with languid, sensual movements, rewraps your desperate clit with his lips and tongue before continuing with more direct, zigzagging movements, crushing it at times with the flat part of his tongue and then flicking it with the tip soon after. He would never stop kissing and licking you like that, his tensed cock vibrating each time he eats you up a little more, delightedly swallowing your juices, enjoying retrieving them each time they flow between your wide-open, rosy thighs. A clearer, liquid substance squirts slightly out of your slit, causing you to shake around his head, you clench your lower lip between your teeth with tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, you are instigating Jimin to pleasurably hurt you, and the funniest thing is that you don't even notice.

Finishing licking some of that shiny, transparent substance from your inner thigh, the boy moves up your body, biting slowly at the flesh of your belly and then higher and higher to the softness of your breasts, titillating a turgid nipple before pulling it between his lips.

“W-What are you doing to me?” you gasp, wishing he would never stop adoring and cuddling your body, why? Just moments before you were running from his clutches, why are you lifting your pelvis now, inviting him to take you as if you've been waiting for this all your life?

“Are you just...” he murmurs, before kissing your chin with his devilish lips, "Responding to your desire" he kisses your mouth again, an electric sensation forcing you to comply, chasing his tongue with yours, collapsing to the spicy taste that is now all over his mouth, your taste.

With half-closed eyes you realize that the dark lines of ink are moving, taking the shape of a wolf watching you, you have no way to comprehend the unsettling sensation that invades you. The man, with one hand pressed against your bare back, forces you to turn away without you having any say in the matter, you find yourself with your face to the ground and the wind blowing down your back, shivering under his fiery, golden eyes, your legs trembling from the effort to keep you on your hands and knees, fighting the sweet pain pulsing in your naked pussy.

“Now hold still, little girl,” he murmurs in your ear in a husky voice, sensuously pumping his cock with one hand, swollen veins pushing against his palm, which squeezes along the entire shaft to the base, then back to the thick tip from which he is already dripping his thick cum, "I need to get all the venom out of your pretty little body, am I right?" he sneers, positioning himself at your entrance.

You open your eyes wide, panic stifled by arousal, but it's still there nonetheless, clenching your fingers between the grass and damp earth, rubbing your knees against pebbles that make you moan in pain. The length of his cock begins to push against your slit, forcing it open for him, a choked cry leaves your throat, feeling your walls that, despite their wetness, struggle to let him in.

“You're still so tight,” hisses the man unfamiliar to you, "I must spoil you some more, huh?" he chuckles, sliding his hand between your legs, using his index finger to stimulate your throbbing bud, you gasp arching your back and raising your buttocks toward the man, who takes the opportunity to plunge his cock another inch into your entrance, which throbs and squeezes him rhythmically, almost making him lose control of the situation.

The sensation of the claw grazing your folds each time he presses and massages your swollen clitoris brings you almost to the edge, you feel a wild sexual desire, something you never experienced even during your teenage years, a crucial period of sexual development.

“Go ahead, please!” you exclaim breathlessly, pressing your forehead against the ground, every single millimeter that moves inside you without really penetrating you is like torture, your index finger moving languidly, and you're going fucking crazy.

“Are you really begging?” he teases you, you grit your teeth until it hurts, but finally you give in.

“Please... fill me, take me!”

“Do you want it?” he asks again, pulling the tip almost completely out, the only part he had managed to get in, you clench your legs desperately trying to recover what your intimacy has lost.

“Yes! I want it! I want your cock, I want it to fill me all the way, and I want it now!” you growl with an anger that burns under your skin, looking at him from behind, his face is an emotionless mask, but his eyes...oh, those never lie, you read the fire of desire in them, he's suffering that anticipation as much as you are. Bastard.

“You begged for it so well, little girl... I'll just have to satisfy you,” the cavernous tone clashes with his appearance, but it anticipates what happens next and leaves you breathless, abandoning your contracted clitoris he grips your hips tightly, almost penetrating your delicate flesh with his claws, pushing himself into you with a vigorous thrust, instantly breaking the thin membrane at your entrance, effortlessly. The burning that follows makes your eyes water, your body instinctively trying to escape the man's savage assault, suddenly realizing that you have lost your virginity that way, out in the open, sweaty and dirty, just like an animal.

The man on top of you hisses and makes strange deep sounds, inebriated by the sensation of his throbbing cock finally and completely squeezed between your trembling walls, trying to adjust to the abnormal size. You gasp whimpering, moving your pelvis trying to disentangle yourself from the overgrip, his claws are hurting you, but he doesn't seem to want to let go, not now that he is buried so deep.

With a grunt he thrusts out slightly, watching as your pussy instinctively clings to him, as your thick juices and virginal blood wet his entire length, lubricating him. Leaning toward you, he lets a long trickle of saliva fall back between your buttocks, slipping between them reaches the point where you are joined. He thrusts back into you forcefully, striking deeper and deeper, and you feel every detail of his cock penetrating you and thrusting higher and higher, touching points so delicate and sensitive that you howl meekly, like a she-wolf offering her whole self to her mate, the pain has been replaced by the need to be possessed, you move against his pubes with urgency, the thread of pleasure is getting thinner and thinner, you feel incredibly wet, practically soaked, and the sounds of your union are so obscene that you are shamefully aroused. Your walls flutter drunkenly with pleasure, at one point with the thick, red tip he manages to hit the entrance to your cervix with precision, you stiffen whimpering breathlessly, and Jimin collapses on top of you, continuing to move his hips tirelessly and with spellbinding sinuosity.

You take it so well that it is impossible for him not to want to have you again and again, throwing back his head to be hit by the moonlight that increases his desire, his pupils widen and he feels his testicles clench with urgency as the base of his cock swells, making him shake all over. Without a second thought, he begins to enter you with deeper and longer thrusts so that his whole cock sinks into you without any more constriction, he hears you panting and crying and this only causes him joy, you are completely abandoned to him and your sensations.

You're about to come, you're not so ignorant that you don't know what's happening to your body, you've even heard of intense orgasms, but this... god, this is going to be devastating, you know very well. It's nothing like the ones you had with masturbation, this one is deeper, snaking through your lower belly and you feel it in your uterus. You stiffen all over, trying to block the erection that keeps pinning you down between hard, sensual thrusts, every time it touches your cervix you risk going crazy.

“Don't stop me, little girl... It's here, isn't it?” he gasps at you, slamming into you once more, high up between the entrance of your uterus and another sensitive area that makes your clitoris and walls tear with intense pleasure, your toes curl and you can't help but nod desperately, "Alright, love," he replies without even realizing it, kissing your bare, sweaty shoulder, his knot is almost complete, but he wants you to come before he gives you his cum.

He teases a sensitive, turgid nipple with the tip of a claw as he reaches the point of your union, massaging your folds to help you come, though with a hint of naughtiness he doesn't dare touch your clitoris, he wants you to orgasm on your own, knowing that the intensity then will be greater and you will collapse weak and distraught in his arms.

“Oh, fuck-!” you widen your eyes, being hit by a pressing and beautiful sensation of jouissance, sucking him furiously into you amid tremors and searing waves of pleasure, the same clear liquid as before leaks from your slit, this time in a greater quantity, causing Jimin to grunt as he is run over by your jet, slamming into you almost brutally, streams of his cum fiercely fill your core, as if to mark you for life, and finally his knot swells completely, locking him inside you.

Although immobilized, he cannot stop coming, his testicles quivering violently, and only one thing could quell his aching desire. With his eyes now almost completely encompassed by the black pupil, he pushes your hair away from your neck, exposing your previously tortured skin.

“Why does this go on?” you ask feverishly, confused by the enormous weight widening your walls and locking his big cock into you.

“Sssh” he rubs the tip of his nose against you, making you shudder, "Just wait a little longer" his words are followed by an excruciating twinge, his grown canines penetrating like blades into your skin and sinking into your flesh amidst your shocked and submissive screams, your body surrendering to his force, instinctively submitting and waiting for him to finish marking.

Jimin loves blood, your blood, it pleasantly bathes his tongue with its density and sweetness, he moans with need as he loses himself in your scent, instinct commands him to move his hips once more, even though you are both locked together, with a weak moan you take in the last strings of his cum, resting possessively in your belly, you feel heavy and unbearably full, but at least he seems to be finished, you feel him relax as he once again licks the holes left by his teeth, healing them. He looks like a wolf cleaning up after his mate after mating.

“What are you?” you ask wearily, by now surrendering to the idea that the man cannot be a mere human, that probably everything he has told you, from the poison-soaked dress to the deal with the town, is real.

“Jimin” you hear him grunt at such a low frequency that if you hadn't been alone, you probably wouldn't have heard him. You snort weakly.

“I asked you what you are, not your name,” you murmur, the strange, heavy weight preventing you from moving, hissing as Jimin moves awkwardly between your legs, putting you in a more comfortable situation, letting you rest against his chest lethargically, occasionally kissing the back of your neck and licking your neck, or behind your ear.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like all that attention; you feel a delicious bite around your heart as you cling to his embrace, protected from the evening chill.

You don't know exactly how long you spend like this, maybe forty minutes, maybe an hour, the fact is that finally that thing between your legs seems to melt away, making you sigh almost strangely.

Jimin gently untangles himself from you, leaving your warm shelter slowly and with a feeling of emptiness that stuns you, your legs finally relax and you try to move them to regain some mobility, you feel his cum pushing to come out and two of his fingers enter you, plugging your entrance. No claws, you notice as he slowly turns you around.

You hiss at the burning, your knees are completely ruined, but Jimin begins to sprinkle them with kisses and saliva, the man is back between your thighs again, you can see his long, wild hair shining as he licks and sucks your skin from time to time, all the way to his fingers, he moves them slowly inside you and you twitch involuntarily, closing your eyes at the warmth of his tongue licking a thick streak of cum and juices dripping roughly from you, pushing it down to your hypersensitive clitoris and you moaning in pain.

“Don't do it,” you gasp, closing your legs tightly, but he doesn't give up, grabbing your chin between two fingers and forcing your mouth wide open, your heart faltering with a strange emotion, you let him spit all his creamy load into your mouth, running along your tongue with a surprised cry.

“Swallow,” he orders with a gleam of interest in his eyes.

You do as he tells you, wanting to please him in every way possible, accepting him back into your mouth for a slow, intimate kiss. It is also dominant and sweet, intense.

“I'm Jimin, a werewolf and also one of the masters of the castle,” he explains pushing you against his bare chest, you hug him back as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be there, clasped to him on a bed of dry leaves, "You are my mate, it's no accident that you were chosen ... being a virgin at your age is unusual for humans, but not for us wolves, you waited for me," he emphasizes with fire in his eyes.

“But ... my friends?” you can't help but ask, which makes him chuckle.

“My people have learned to be among humans, they recognized you by scent and led you to me at the right time, they are fine,” he informs you with a caress, “In fact, you should worry about yourself,” he says with a note of reproach.

“H-How?” fear advances again.

“I've waited too many years for your birth, little girl... it's time to repay the wait,” he hums as something hot and hard returns against your belly.

“Jimin, wai-!” too late, the tip of his cock captures your entrance again, this time with more ease and the next thrust has you writhing against him with tears in your eyes, “Oh, shit!”

© 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲𝐙𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 -  𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. || 𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[colormepurplex2]

Bump In The Night | MYG

▻ Bump In The Night ↳ Bogeyman!Yoongi x f.Reader ⤜ Horror/Thriller/Demon, Nyctophobia ⤜ Monster Under The Bed AU | angst, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 12,395 ⤜ Summary: The dark can be scary; full of strange, unseen things. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on your fear, the lights go out, and you face the reality that you were always right—you should fear the dark and especially what’s waiting in it. ⚠️ Crass language, fear, inciting fright, playing on emotions, teasing, kissing, fingering, biting/marking, dom tones, begging, choking, panic, unprotected v. sex, feeding on fear, dark thoughts, revealed dark intentions, predator/prey tones, chasing, claiming, serpentine tongue, oral f.receiving, monster cock/sex, metamorphosis

Written for the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween collab for @minisugakoobies A/N: Sunny, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it. Happy belated birthday and hope you have a pleasant spooky holiday full of Bogeyman Yoongi delight!

A special thank you to @star-my @hisunshiine and @downbad4yoongi for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Beg For It

Nyctophobia [ nik-tuh-foh-bee-uh ] - noun Psychiatry: extreme or irrational fear of the night or of darkness.

One…

Two…

Three…

Breathe. Another few seconds, that’s all you want; just precious moments to prove yourself.

Four…

Five…

Six…

Cold chills slither down your spine despite the hot water beating against your back. Your fingers work vigorously against your cheeks and along your forehead. What feels like a thousand pounds settles along your lashes, even though you know it’s nothing more than marshmallowy-light foam.

Seven…

Eight…

Nin—

You spin around, nearly losing your footing in the shower as you angle your face under the spray from the showerhead. The heels of your palms press against your lids as you try to rid them of the foamy facial cleanser.

Air wheezes into your lungs, stray drops of water sucking between your parted lips as you try to breathe against the panic building in your chest. Jerking back from the spray, you open your eyes, wincing at the sting from the water-mixed-with-cleanser that drips from your lashes and floods the corners.

Nothing. There’s nothing there. All you see is the steam-filled space of your shower, water pelting down at your feet, a smattering of bottles arranged on the lip of the tub, and the inside of your plain shower curtain.

You sigh, irritation itching in your chest. Not even nine seconds. You were trying for at least ten. It never fails to leave a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you can’t seem to get a grip on yourself. It’s just the dark. Hell, it’s not even really the dark. It’s just having your eyes closed against the bright fluorescent lights of your bathroom; a pseudo-darkness.

The unease in your stomach refuses to dissipate as you turn off the shower, step out, wrap yourself in a towel, and go through the routine of brushing your teeth and massaging moisturizer into your skin. You hang up your damp towel, quickly pulling on the oversized t-shirt and shorts you intend to sleep in.

Steam clouds the mirror. You don’t typically care to wipe it away, not anymore. It’s one of your small, personal victories—one you intentionally remind yourself of now after your panicked stint in the shower. It used to be that you couldn’t stand not being able to see the space behind you through the reflective surface. Knowing if something lurked outside your line of sight, it couldn’t hide from being exposed through the mirror. Being able to see behind you was all that mattered. Now, you take pride in not needing to see…yet, the niggling in the back of your head won’t cease. So, you swipe a hand, collecting tiny beads of moisture on your palm as you go.

You’re unsure why the act makes your heart beat a little harder. It’s supposed to elicit the calm you so desperately need. But, once you’ve slashed a clear path across the mirror, your brow furrows as you lean in closer to it. Cold dread thunders through your veins as you jerk back, spinning on your heel to make sure what you saw through the mirror wasn’t just your mind playing a trick on you.

Nope, not a trick or even a figment of your imagination…unfortunately.

You stare in paranoid disbelief at the slender gap along the bottom of the bathroom door. The door that leads into your bedroom where you are absolutely, without a doubt, positive you left your bedside lamp on. The gap is dark, like a void threatening to suck you right into an endless nightmare of unrelenting terror. All that’s missing is a gaunt, skeletal hand sliding its too-long fingers under the door.

Shoving away those intrusive thoughts before they can take root and further fester like a dirty wound on your sanity, you try to think logically. It’s possible the bulb in your lamp could have blown, but you know you replaced it just last month. It’s far too soon for it to blow on its own, and surely, it’s not a faulty bulb. So, why is it out? Were you careless and, in truth, didn’t turn it on? A manic laugh gets caught in your throat as you silently berate yourself. That must be it. You simply forgot. So careless.

Fear is an acrid taste on your tongue as you slowly approach the door. You hate this feeling. Even though you tell yourself there’s nothing out there lurking in the dark to harm you, you simply forgot to leave the light on. The distress doesn’t subside—and it won’t. At least, not until you open the door and prove the dark to harbor no ill intent toward you.

Squaring your shoulders and taking what is supposed to be a calming and fortifying breath, though it feels more like sand slipping into your lungs, you wrap your fingers firmly around the brushed nickel handle. The metal is warm, slightly wet from the condensation formed during your shower, against your palm as you twist it.

You lick your trembling lips, taking one more moment to center yourself. Your eyes slide closed as you mentally recall the layout of your room, calculating how many steps there are to get to the nearest light switch. Your bed is angled so the foot faces the bathroom door, and the closet door to the left near the two windows you know are closed tight with the curtains drawn. The bedroom door is easily the furthest from the bathroom, leaving the overhead light out of the question. You knew, before you even began to analyze, that the bedside lamp you recall yourself leaving on is going to be the closest light source. Still, you needed to go through the motion of solidifying that information in your mind.

As you haltingly push it open, the quiet creak of the door, which sounds deafening in the silence of the bathroom, causes chills to pop up along your arms and the hairs at the nape of your neck to stand on end. Darkness ebbs as the light from the bathroom bleeds across the hardwood of your bedroom floor, slowly revealing the interior of your room.

Your heart lurches, and a scream rips from your chest when you see a dark figure sitting at the end of your bed come into focus as the bathroom door swings further open, the handle barely held in your now numb fingers. Panic barrels through you. Your muscles react instinctively, fingers tightening around the knob as you jerk back, the door closing with a harsh bang as you backpedal across the bathroom.

“Babe,” calls a playful voice from just on the other side of the door. You can barely hear it over the roaring in your ears. Nausea threatens to double you over, even as relief floods your system—such conflicting emotions that you feel suddenly off-kilter. 

There is a fine sheen of cold sweat clinging to your neck. Your hands fist into the front of your shirt as the door eases open to reveal your boyfriend standing at the threshold. His dark ensemble makes it seem like the bathroom's light bends around his form, not daring to touch him.

You’ve never liked it when someone intentionally scares you, claiming it’s a joke. It always seems more like a cruel prank than a laughing matter. Though, you note, no one is laughing right now either way. He doesn’t look smug or self-satisfied for having scared you, just simply mildly amused.

“You scared me, Yoongi,” you state flatly, crossing your arms over your chest, hoping he picks up on your discomfort.

The corners of his lips turn down, and his brow furrows as he gives you an exaggerated pout. Even with your pounding heart and the upside down in your belly, you can’t help but appreciate how cute he is when he does that. “I know. I just didn’t see the point in wasting the power if you weren’t going to be in there.” He gestures vaguely behind him to your room, which is barely lit by the light pouring out of the bathroom.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to remind him that even though you weren’t in there, he was. Though, for some reason, Yoongi sitting in the dark doesn’t strike you as out of place. In the five years you’ve been together, you’ve learned to love his odd quirks just as much as any other part of him. He’s genuine, a caring person who isn’t afraid to be vulnerable—a far cry from anyone else you’ve ever given your time to.

“How was work?” you ask, aiming to get back on track with some semblance of normalcy—anything to not dwell on the lingering discomfort that’s still beating away in your chest.

His shoulders hitch up in a nonchalant manner. “Same as always. There’s been a big break in the Hunt case. Director Park thinks we’ll have the code cracked in a few more days. I say by tomorrow night, tops, just in time for our date. It’ll be a reward for my hard work,” his eyes twinkle with mirth. “After all, I think Samhain is a pretty fitting day for dealing with evil, huh?”

You make a noncommittal sound at that last part. Yoongi might enjoy that thought, but to you, tomorrow is more so just a day…simply October 31st and is more about plastic pumpkins, like the ones you have sitting on your front porch, than dealing with evil like that. The fact that Yoongi has convinced you to go to a festival tomorrow night is so wild you’ve been forcing yourself not to think about it.

“Well, I’d put my money on you over Director Park any day,” you say instead, giving him a soft, knowing smile. Yoongi has a penchant for estimations. If he thinks it’ll only take another day to crack a code that’s been wreaking havoc on Interpol for the better part of a year, then you believe him. You don’t pretend to understand all the intricacies of what he does; just know he’s really good with computers and helps whichever government agency needs it most or something like that.

Yoongi gives you a lazy smile in return. “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear. Your confidence in me is like kindling for my fervor,” he croons, wrapping you up in his arms. It feels good to relax in his embrace, the last vestiges of your earlier panic melting away as you soak in his warmth and familiarity. “Sorry I scared you,” he murmurs into your damp hair. “Let me make it up to you.”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, laughing softly when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt and teasingly caress your sides—the touch is light, making your skin tighten and prickle in response.

A rumbling groan vibrates through Yoongi’s chest as he playfully nips along your jaw before planting his lips firmly over yours in a dizzying and claiming way. “We’ll start with kissing,” the words are whispered between plucks of his mouth against yours, tongue swiping sensually across your bottom lip.

“Kissing is good,” you agree, smiling against his mouth before melting into another heated tangle of tongues and stilted breaths. That fist around your heart eases, letting your chest expand fully for the first time since before you showered.

“Biting,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck. The light pressure of his teeth pressing against your skin has your toes curling against the cold tile floor and your fingers fisting into the front of his shirt.

Yoongi plants his mouth right over your pulse point, his tongue flicking over your throbbing vein as his teeth clamp down gently. You swallow hard against the sensation, your heart shifting gears to thud fast in your chest for a different reason. It’s not necessarily fear that drives your senses higher now so much as it is anticipation and an increase in adrenaline—terror adjacent, something you prefer much more to the former.

You shudder against him, knees going weak as he moans, the sound sending pulsing shocks of vibrations down your spine with how his mouth fits against your neck. His fingers ghost along your shorts before finally pushing past the elastic band. The palms of his hands are warm as they slide around and grip handfuls of your ass.

Using his hold on you, Yoongi lifts you up onto the counter beside the sink. As his hands retreat, they tug your shorts with them, working them around the curve of your ass until they’re caught at your knees. You let him push them further until they slacken and fall to catch around your ankles, then onto the floor. Wincing slightly at how cold the counter is against your bare skin, you urge him to fill the space between your thighs, seeking his warmth flush against you once again.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, sucking in a sharp breath as he slides a hand between your bodies and presses the flat of his fingers against your pussy. You don’t need to look in the mirror to know his teeth have left an impression on your neck. He leans back and licks his lips in a show of appreciation, lidded eyes full of mischief and barely veiled lust. “Please.” It comes out warbled as he teases his middle finger between your lower lips.

“Beg for it,” he says. “Show me how much you want me to make you forget about the darkness.” His voice has an edge, like he’s teasing at something, but it’s lost on you to piece together what it might be.

Sucking in a deep breath, you repeat your plea, “Please.”

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and you can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding between your legs and under the sensitive skin of your neck that Yoongi ravaged with his teeth. Lightheadedness kisses the edges of your clarity, daring you to get lost in the delirium that Yoongi is offering.

“You can do better than that,” Yoongi taunts, his laugh low and husky as he pulls away, leaving you bereft of his touch where you want it most. “Beg. For. It.” The words are clipped, punctuated with staccato taps of his middle finger against your sensitive clit.

“Fuck—Yoongi, please! Please, I need you!”

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi smiles wickedly. Two slender fingers sliding into your wet heat are your reward. “You’re so wet already. Look at how your body is pulling me in. Fuck, that’s nice.” He angles himself so you can both look down and watch his fingers slowly pull out, glistening with your arousal before sinking back in.

Your body squeezes around his fingers, walls fluttering in anticipation and building pleasure. “Need you,” you mumble, grabbing at the button on the front of his dark wash jeans with one hand and tugging at the bottom of his black t-shirt with the other. “Fuck me, Yoongi, please. Please, fuck me. I need you to make me forget.”

A flurry of motion accompanies his answering growl of approval as he helps you strip him out of his clothes and the rest of your own. You barely feel the absence of his fingers in your cunt before he pulls your ass to the edge of the counter and shoves his cock inside with a guttural moan that echoes in the small space.

The fit of him inside your body is deliciously perfect, like he was made to please you. Your fingers press dents into his shoulders as you grip him tightly. One of his hands squeezes your hip to keep you from slipping off the counter while the other finds its way to having a light grip on your throat.

His forehead rests against yours, the back of your head pressed against the mirror behind you. The angle makes his thrusts shallow, forcing the crown of his cock to rock against a sensitive spot deep inside that has you seeing spots behind your closed lids.

Yoongi has always been a contrasting lover, hot and cold, in a way that always leaves you breathless and assuaged. The look on his face says he’s fucking you, but the sensual roll of his hips says he’s making love to you—the hand on your throat says he just wants to control you. Regardless of how he fucks, it always consumes you. From the first time to now, he wholly and utterly devours your sanity and spits it back at you two-fold. He brings you palpable lucidity while also destroying all sense of right and wrong. Some call it morally grey; you call it just another titillating facet of who he is.

Pleasure builds fast, and you know you’re about to tip over the edge when the pressure of his hand on your throat increases. It’s an infinitesimal change, but it feels like the tightening of a vice all the same.

The erratic beat of your heart stutters further, swallowing you down into a thick-headed spiral of trepidation. You know Yoongi won’t hurt you. It’s not that—not quite. It’s the idea and knowledge that he could. It’s a taboo feeling, craving that helpless flutter deep in your belly that dares you to indulge in the darkness instead of running from it.

Yoongi’s hips continue to roll against you, your body pinned in place by his hand on your throat. Your eyes flutter open just to fall shut again as the hand on your hip moves until his thumb presses against your clit, making your body jerk and hurtle back toward the precipice of pleasure from before.

With his thumb pressed against one throbbing artery in your neck and the pads of his fingers against the twin on the other side, he has complete and utter control over you. All it takes is another barely-there squeeze to have you changing your grip from his shoulders to his forearm.

The bitter taste of cowardice laces together with the cloyingly sweet, carnal flavor of lust that’s coating your insides. Yoongi rumbles, a moan low in his chest. The rhythm of his hips kicks up until they’re hammering against yours to the point that measures of pain mix with the terror, forming into a rapture of exhilaration. His thumb coaxes your orgasm through precise flicks over your swollen clit.

You can’t help the sound that rips from your throat, squeezing past his grip in a ragged mockery of a moan—bright colors spiderweb across the backs of your closed lids as you sip from his chalice of wickedness. White noise joins the rush of blood in your ears as somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, alarm begins to bleed into the hazy euphoria clouding your head. “Yes!” Yoongi groans. “That’s it, fuck!”

“Y-yoon—“ you try to choke out his name, fingers trembling from their tight grip on his forearm. Just as you’re about to try and shove him away to get a reprieve, his hand loosens its hold on your throat, and the instant rush of oxygen to your brain washes away all other thoughts as your body surrenders once again to his dominion. The orgasm tears through you, sweeping you out in a hedonistic riptide. Your walls clamp around his cock so hard he snarls and shudders with the trigger of his own release.

You must have blacked out from the overwhelming cascade that besieged your senses because the next thing you’re aware of is Yoongi tucking you into bed beside him. The sheets are cool against your heated skin, a welcome lull of relief. He presses into your sated body, chest against your back and arm possessively curling over your hip. “Get some sleep, my queen,” he murmurs. “I’ll hold the darkness back.”

The room is dark, just as it was earlier when you panicked. But, just as always, when Yoongi is around, it’s less frightening…seemingly somehow less dark and foreboding. He might have darker desires when it comes to pleasure, but right now, he’s the light that chases away your other demons.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

The taste of your fear still lingers in the back of Yoongi’s throat as he pretends to sleep curled around you. He knew turning off your bedroom light would scare you. It’s why he did it. The peckish feeling that rumbled in the pit of his stomach drove him to want to play with you. Your fear instantly sated his hunger, and it made his dick hard when you screamed. You scream so prettily he just can’t help that natural, primal response. 

That is, after all, precisely why he chose you. Everything about you speaks to his needs, promising sweet and succulent fruit that’s always ripe for plucking.

He learned early on that if he could elevate your heart rate and incite a sliver of fear in you while fucking you…well, his full belly is testament enough to how much he loves that. You call it a kink, he calls it dessert. It wasn’t his intention to fuck you after he frightened you, but the irritating erection grating along his zipper had other plans. 

His mortal form isn’t his favorite. It’s far too small and has far too many baser needs and limitations. Though he does enjoy the feel of your soft, pliant flesh under his—especially when you’re ripe with the sweet smell of terror—it makes it worth the discomfort this inferior mode has.

It’s not lost on Yoongi that he could have ruined you from the start by taking too much from you. But he’s been careful over the years, molding and training your body to be the perfect vessel for him to feed from. The fact you were already experiencing high anxiety and an innate fear of the dark prior to him coming into your life helped tremendously. Nyctophobia is such a beautiful thing.

You claim he’s helped you, for the most part, get over your fears. However, he knows this is just a lie you tell him and yourself to make yourself feel and seem braver. He knows the truth, though. There is no getting over your fear, not when it lives with you…sleeps next to you, touches you, fucks you. He’s everything you’re scared of, everything you think is creeping around in the dark, waiting to pounce. He’s your worst nightmare…literally as much as figuratively—and you have absolutely no inkling of that truth. All you see is what he lets you see: just a sweet guy with a penchant for darker tastes behind closed doors.

To you, he’s just Yoongi. But he has had many names over the centuries: Demon, Baba Yaga, El Coco, Butzemann, Tikoloshe, Bogeyman, and so on. All of them are generally the same, but none are quite right. He is all these things, and yet none of these things—he’s so much more.

It’s a common misconception that he only targets people who do misdeeds. That’s not it at all, for the sweetest fruit is the unwary, the innocent, the vulnerable, and the scared. That is the pinnacle of his desire, the unctuous delight that feeds his depravity and gives him power over the darkness—darkness that calls to him now.

Being careful not to wake you, Yoongi slips out from around your soft, lush body. Feeding on your fear in the bathroom drained some of your vitality, lowering your constitution, and the best recovery for that is a good, uninterrupted eight hours. So, he’ll leave you to replenish so that he may feast once again—one last time before he executes his final, ultimate plan; the whole reason he chose you to begin with and has been periodically parading around in this limited meat suit for years.

The maw of darkness under your bed beckons him to shake off the mortal form and take his rightful place as King among the shadows. Yoongi catches his reflection in the standing mirror across the room. The only thing distinct is the brilliant red eyes staring back at him. It feels good to stretch and dissolve into his proper form, shadows snaking along his limbs and filling his every breath.

You fidget on the bed, brow furrowing as your body reacts to the nearness of his proper form. He likes watching you twitch and shift, soft mewls of fright sounding low in your chest. If he wanted, he could swallow you whole, and you’d never be the wiser, one moment existing in your nightmare and the next slithering into the ether of what comes after. But, it’s not time…not yet.

Letting one of his long, spindly shadow fingers draw back in and reform into the echo of human flesh, he presses the blunt tip against your temple. You instantly quell your movements, and the pitiful cry in your chest subsides. Yoongi can feel the subtle tremble of your body, the vibrations skittering through your flesh as your body recognizes his hellish touch. Your subconscious is as familiar with his umbral form as your conscious is with the lies he’s used to frame how you see him with your eyes.

Digging through the screen of your nightmare, he pulls back the darkness and lets in just enough light to lull you into a false sense of security—something he does nearly every night after he’s fed from you so he doesn’t accidentally drain you dry. By the time he returns, the light will have faded from your dreams, and there will be just enough unfettered distress permeating the air of your bedroom to give him a top off of delicious fear, his own personal cup of pick-me-up.

Yoongi slides under the bed and into the darkness, leaving you to your deep, lambent dreams. He melts through the barrier between your world and his. Euphoria buzzes through him as his depth of power increases. That’s the biggest downfall of walking the mortal plane. There aren’t quite enough shadows or stinking fear to fill the neverending void inside him. But here, in the Realm of Darkness, the taste of terror is thick and nectarous. It lingers in the air and is as permanent as the oxygen you breathe in your world.

Yoongi drifts through the firmament of his domain, letting the worries and stress of what’s to come fade. For a being with endless power and control, he never thought he might have the need to be concerned over something seemingly so trivial. But, the ceremony and ritual he has planned for tomorrow night is easily the most critical thing he’s ever dared to accomplish.

The Realm of Darkness might be sufficiently filled with succulent fodder for him, but there are other limitations he encounters. Constraints that involve the worlds beyond his Kingdom. He doesn’t want just to be able to thrive here on his own turf. He has aspirations of letting his darkness seep into the outer realms—including yours—and if he has his way, you will help him do just that. The barriers will crumble, and he’ll be free to bathe the distant realms in his thick ichor of destruction.

Finally feeling more like himself, he aims for the Shadow Spire, where waits the Throne of the Damned—his throne. All it takes is a simple thought, and he’s standing in the sprawling cavern of the throne room. It stretches wide in all directions, having no end or beginning, just existing as his will needs.

Pillars of malachite soar into the air at equal intervals, disappearing into the glittering cosmos expanse above his head. Silvery flecks of light cast the whole room in a mockery of the night sky of your world, something he’s grown to admire over the years spent there. Yoongi takes a deep breath, soaking in the tangy, bitter stench of brimstone and copper. Soon, he hopes, your delectable perfume of fear will join them.

“Sire,” a gruff voice says in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you back until the ritual. Welcome, is there anything we can do for you?”

Yoongi settles his shadowy form on the monstrous broken stone pillar at the top of the dais that rises from the rocky floor. His court, ever vigilant in their duty to him, wait for him to respond. “Is everything prepared for the ceremony?” he asks, eyes finally landing on the six figures seated on the smaller stone plinths arrayed in a semi-circle in front of him—the Shadow Court once again complete with his return. Hopefully, he won’t have to leave the comfort of his court but one more time. Once the ritual is done, he shouldn’t have to so much as lift a finger to reach into the overworld.

“All is well and ready, Sire.” Wicked smiles spread like wildfire across the court. They’re just as excited as Yoongi is to be finally moving forward with the plan. None of them have tasted the kind of fear that Yoongi has feasted on from you—the fresh terror of the mortal realm—but if they had more corporeal forms, he knows they’d be salivating. Soon, so very soon.

Looking around at his companions, he can’t help but think how humorous it is that you so readily believed his deceptions about working for the human government. He remembers the day he finally stepped from the shadows and made himself known to you. You were immediately drawn to him and couldn't stop yourself from indulging in your curiosities like a moth drawn to a flame.

Yoongi had already come up with an elaborate backstory and characterization for the human he wanted to portray. He knew all of your deep, dark fantasies and brought them to life. Your eyes got round with awe and reverence when he first revealed his supposed job, confirming how gullible and under his spell you were. He can’t deny it’s worked in his favor.

He’s allowed to keep odd hours and disappear as needed. When he returns to your bed before the sun rises, he’ll leave you a note on your pillow about being pulled away for work. You’ll read it and sigh a dreamy sigh as you have every other time he’s done that. You never bother to seek further explanation—your trust in him is so wholly concrete.

There is satisfaction in the freedom you’ve granted him to embrace a darker side. It’s how he can get away with fucking you so callously that your brain warps it into some deranged form of love. You’ve chalked every depraved thing he’s done to you up to him needing an outlet after dealing with such heinous stuff for work. He only had to mention a few well-known acronyms, like FBI and CIA, and you accepted it. As scared as you are of the dark, he’s aware of the collection of slasher and horror novels you keep stuffed away under your bed and that you listen with rapt attention to those silly crime shows and podcasts that tell you he’s not the one you should be scared of. Soon, he won’t have to worry about any of that, though—no more silly backstory, no more hiding, no more stuffy mortal form, no more holding back. Tomorrow signifies a change, a new beginning. It’s the time when the veil between the worlds will be thin enough that he can drag you down without it sucking your life away. Some call it Samhain, Calan Gaeaf, Mischief Night, Halloween—it holds nearly as many names as Yoongi himself does—but for him, it will be the night he calls triumph. The night his shadows will lay a claim to you wholly; the night you stop fearing what goes bump in the night and instead stand by its side and let it consume you.

Wicked Delight

Consciousness comes in fits and spurts of clarity. There is a moment where you’re asleep but aware. With this awareness, you can discern and feel the potent darkness webbing across your subconscious. You’ve seen it before, the myriad of inky tendrils that zig-zag through the light like fissures over a dried river bed. It scares you but also fills you with intrigue so rich it nearly eclipses the fear.

You know that if you could just hang on to that in-between space, the feeling of teetering on the edge of a knife, you could examine the darkness further and figure out what it is and where it comes from. But your body has other plans, sucking you away from your inspection and pushing you toward uneasy wakefulness.

Shifting under the blankets, a crinkling noise draws your eyes open to land on a rumple of white paper lying beside you on the empty side of the bed. With fumbling fingers, you grab the ripped leaf of creamy parchment and turn it so you can see the blue scrawl of words.

Got some darkness to take care of. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Don’t forget; 11 pm sharp, beginning of the corn maze. X

There is no name signed to the note, just an X, but you know who left it, regardless. You roll over, holding the thin paper above you so you can see the faded, faint print under his ink. A smile tugs at your lips when you realize it’s a corner ripped from Kinder und Hausmärchen, one of Yoongi’s favorite books. He has an original first edition that he’s let you moon over a few times. The first time you found a note and saw what it was written on, you nearly crawled out of your skin to berate him for ruining such a prize. He gently chided you for your reaction and assured you it was just a copy, scanned and printed for the whimsy of it.

Looking closer, you see the corner is from a page of the Cat and Mouse in Partnership tale. Your smile fades, turning into a mild frown as an odd feeling ghosts beneath your skin, eliciting goosebumps to pop up along your arms. Sighing, you shake your head and pull the blanket up high under your chin, chalking the sensation up to being cold. Your eyes rove around the room, taking in the early morning light filtering in through your thin curtains, showing you just enough of the inside of your room to be comfortable with not having a light on.

Finally deciding there’s no point in dallying in bed further, you toss back the covers and brace yourself against the chill in your room. Only, it’s not as cold as you were anticipating. Opening the small drawer on your nightstand to deposit the message in with the dozens of others Yoongi has left you over the years, you can help but smile. They’re sweet, little pieces of him that affirm to you why it’s okay he disappears the way he does. The reminder comforts you, especially on this day.

Halloween has never been your favorite. Well, that’s not true, exactly. You do like Halloween—just the modern and more mainstream version with candy, pumpkins, and warm, spiced drinks. Fall colors are also something you enjoy. The cooler air is nice. You’re partial to cozy sweaters and boots, too.

All in all, you enjoy this time of the year. You just don’t necessarily like the darker parts, the scarier parts. Haunted houses and scary movies are things you could do without unless it’s under very specific circumstances. Such as having Yoongi there. Which is the only reason you’ve agreed to meet him at the festival tonight. You haven’t been since you were a teen and got so scared by the fright actors that you swore never to return.

Except, now, you are returning. It’s been on the tip of your tongue for the last week to cancel on Yoongi, feigning a head or stomach ache. But, the sheer excitement in his gaze when you agreed, has been enough to make you bite your tongue every time a protest bubbles up. You can—and will—do this.

With an entire day to go before your date with Yoongi, you busy yourself with mundane tasks. A bit of cleaning, some light reading, and lastly, dumping a few bags of assorted and prepackaged candies into a bright orange bowl with a goofy jack-o-lantern face printed on the side.

You’re usually a porchlight-off kind of person. Still, this year, considering your own venture outside your proverbial Halloween box, you decided why not go the extra mile for others, too? Even if one kid dumps the entire bowl into their treat bag, you’ll at least feel somewhat accomplished in your attempt.

Setting the bowl on your doorstep, you stand back and survey it. The yellow-tinged porch light illuminates the candy and the plastic pumpkins you have arranged on either side of your door. You contemplate adding a ‘please take only one’ sign for the bowl but decide a paper warning isn’t much of a deterrent. Leaving the candy to its fate, you head back inside to finish getting ready.

Time flows in a weird, out-of-body kind of way. You’re aware of pulling on your coat and walking into your garage through the kitchen—even the process of driving to the festival registers in your mind. But, you’re genuinely not cognisant of what you’re doing until you’re staring at the large flashing sign for the festival. You have to practically put on blinders to make it through the ticketing process, ignoring the scare actors as you wait in line.

The corn maze is at the center of it all, meaning you keep your eyes glued to the ground as you skirt the edges of the food stalls and game stands until you reach it. There, you wait, standing at the start of the corn maze and stare at your watch, counting the seconds as they tick by with the small hand.

The air is cool, the crisp scent of fall heavy around you. Laughter and faint screams carry to you from the festival surrounding the maze. The giant corn labyrinth is the center of the entire two-week-long event. Thousands of people flock from near and far to venture within the husked, cream-colored stalks.

If you make it through the maze without assistance from the scare actors, then you get an entire bucket of caramel popcorn drizzled with chocolate. That’s never been enough of a reward for you to try. Even the last time you were here, you never stepped foot into the clustered embrace of the maze.

The festival is lit enough with all the twinkling lights and fair games lining the thoroughfares and the midway. Food trucks and stalls litter through the vendors with stuffed animals and cackling clowns. You try to ignore the bodies that sway and shamble through the crowd—the scare actors. They’re just people dressed up in costume and makeup, but they still elicit that flighty feeling in your belly, that little trickle of fear.

At the ticket booths, there were neon green necklaces you could purchase. You used them as a distraction while you waited in line. They’re ‘no scare’ necklaces, big bright indicators that you’re a sensitive little bitch that doesn’t want to be scared. At least, that’s how you felt looking at them, considering buying one. You know they’re an extremely valid item, a protective emblem that many people need, and that it’s perfectly fine—in fact, it’s encouraged for people to use them if they need to.

As you fingered the green nylon of the lanyard, you couldn’t help chewing your bottom lip, worrying at it until it cracked under your teeth and the coppery tang of blood danced across your tongue. You almost bought it…maybe you should have. However, the fact that you’re half-hidden by the corn maze sign and doing everything in your power not to draw unwanted attention to yourself seems to be keeping you from attracting the actors your way.

The tiny hand on your watch ticks away, drawing closer to turning over the minute, which'll turn over the hour to 11 PM. Sharp. Yoongi’s insistence. Just as the hands come together on your watch, you feel that telltale tingling feeling of eyes on you. It’s a familiar sensation, one you often associate with Yoongi. Daring to step out from behind the sign to the corn maze, you spin in a slow circle, trying to catch sight of him.

“Looking for someone?”

You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the shriek that rips from your chest as those words drift in from right behind you. So close that it’s impossible to imagine you hadn’t noticed him approaching you as you looked around.

“Yoongi,” you sigh, dropping your hand.

He's enveloping you from behind before you can turn around and give him a pouty yet stern look. His familiar musk and warmth ease your heart back from its hammering gallop. “You’re good enough to eat,” he gruffly murmurs, pressing his nose into the fabric of your coat at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You can feel more than hear his deep inhalation, as if he’s drawing in the scent of your very soul and branding it throughout his olfactory system.

“The maze closes in an hour. Are you sure we can make it to the center before then?” you ask, voice light and airy as relief infused with drips of serotonin weaken your knees and your resolve to be upset with him for frightening you. You turn in his arms, keen to look upon his face for another kick of comfort, but it sours in your belly when you take in his pulled-up hood and the thick black gaiter covering the bottom half of his face. “What’s that for?”

Yoongi shrugs, shoulders lifting in his typical nonchalant manner. “It’s Halloween. Consider me dressed for the occasion.” He winks at you, but it does nothing to quell the unease still rolling around just beneath your surface. Feigning that stomachache is starting to sound more and more appealing, Yoongi’s excitement be damned.

“You look like a burglar.”

You can’t see his smile, but you can tell it’s there by how his eyes crinkle and lids lower mischievously. “And you look ripe for the burgling.”

“You’re insufferable,” you gripe teasingly, finally letting a smile grace your face despite the lingering anxiety. It’s easy to forget your fears and worries when you’re looking into his umber-colored gaze.

“Come on, let’s go.” Yoongi offers you his elbow, and you tuck your hand into the crook of it, leaning your shoulder against his arm.

The fleece-lined leggings you chose to wear keep you warm enough, paired with the knit sweater and thick tweed coat covering your top half. Your chunky boots are comfortable and practical for the slightly uneven terrain of the cornfield-turned-maze. Yoongi is far more casual in just jeans, the hoodie, and a pair of dusty and worn sneakers.

You study his face the best you can past the edge of his hood and out of the corner of your eye. He’s just as handsome as always. Even the black fabric covering the bottom half of his face doesn’t detract from his allure, which seems to be intensified by the deepening darkness around you as he leads you through the maze entrance.

A festival worker stands off to the side in full-on farmer-gore. Their overalls are covered in faux viscera, and there is a bloodied sling blade dangling from their off-hand as they beckon you and Yoongi forward with their other.

“Tonight's savior phrase is ‘Pumpkin Guts’, yell it out if you need assistance navigating the maze, and a helper will assist you,” he offers before turning to the next patron approaching a few feet behind you and Yoongi and giving them the same information.

“Pumpkin Guts,” Yoongi scoffs with a quiet laugh. “Surely they could have come up with something far more fitting than that.”

“I find it kind of nice. The childish charm of it helps make a situation like getting lost in the maze less scary, don’t you think?”

His eyes look more onyx now that you’re within the maze, the only illumination coming from tiny, sparse fairy lights. They catch your gaze, and you see a smile tilt up the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “That’s adorable.”

“What?” you laugh, feeling heat crawl into your cheeks.

Yoongi shakes his head, his smile growing. “You always find the good in everything. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

All the residual anxiety from earlier bleeds away with just that singular statement. You press in closer to Yoongi and angle your face up in silent request, to which he immediately obliges. He hooks a finger in the lip of his gaiter and pulls it down so he can slant his mouth over yours. His lips are warmer than usual, his breath carrying faint hints of bourbon as he teasingly slips his tongue through the seam of your lips. All too soon, he’s pulling away, leaving you with just that small taste of him. The gaiter slides back into place, and he nods ahead of you. “The quicker we make it to the center, the quicker you get the surprise I have waiting for you.”

“A surprise?” you ask, thoroughly intrigued. 

His affirming hum in response turns into a soft chuckle as you eagerly quicken your steps, tugging him along beside you. As someone who isn’t partial to being shocked or scared, it’s perhaps a bit ironic that you love surprises of the unknown. They just have to be the right kind—like one from Yoongi; er, well, at least the ones that don’t involve him sitting on your bed in the dark as you open the bathroom door or so you tell yourself—but you digress.

Though, perhaps there is a bit of enjoyment from those kinds of surprises, too. In a twisted, semi-fucked up way, the surge of adrenaline is like a counterweight to the dopamine response from your amygdala that follows any time you get frightened. The perfect balance of emotions. The fight or flight reflex makes your body feel like it’s keyed up with extra energy, leaving you feeling like you’ve just run a mile or fucked for an hour. It’s maybe a little unhinged to salivate over those small sips of terror secretly. Does that make you a masochist?

You’d almost think Yoongi picks up on your inner thoughts with the way he makes an amused sound in the back of his throat and gives you a sidelong, knowing look. Something tingles beneath your skin, an electric feeling akin to loose ambitions. It seems tonight won’t be so bad after all.

The crunch of dried corn husks and hay accompanies the occasional scream or laugh echoing from various points in the maze. You’ve only led Yoongi to a dead-end a handful of times so far, but the anxiety at not having found the center of the maze yet is starting to mount.

“I can feel your stress in the tension in your hand,” Yoongi muses softly. “Relax, you’ll get your surprise.”

“What if they close the maze before we make it to the center, though?”

“They won’t.”

You cut a quick glance at him. He looks smug. “You seem so sure, but from my count,” you shift your attention to your watch, “we only have fifteen minutes before the festival closes, and I’d guess we’re nowhere near the center yet.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I may have paid the vendor to let us stay as long as we need.”

“You did what?”

“Tonight’s special,” Yoongi tugs you to a stop, his hands engulfing yours, and gives you a pointed look. “Very special.” The thumb of his right hand grazes over the expanse of skin above the knuckle on your left ring finger. “Now, let’s go find the center…and your surprise.”

A new sensation trickles in–excitement. Your heart patters faster as you turn and haul Yoongi on with renewed vigor. Gone is any trepidation; in its place, nothing but giddy and barely veiled anticipation. And to think, you’d almost been silly and canceled on him.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

Yoongi wasn’t exaggerating when he said you look good enough to eat tonight. If only you knew how close to an accurate statement that was. He’s had a constant flow of moisture seeping into his mouth since he laid eyes on you standing behind the wooden sign for the maze. He had just finished setting up the surprise for you in the center, utilizing his natural form in order to move quickly without being seen.

All the implements he needs await him at the maze's center. The theatrics of it all are only for fun. He could have simply taken you without them. But he’s always been partial to playing with his food before devouring it. The pungency of your anxiety as you waited was a delightful appetizer to what is sure to be a satiating main course.

Every time you make a wrong turn in the maze, Yoongi can feel the tension in your muscles and the momentary disappointment that flavors your scent. It’s amusing watching you shuffle your feet and grumble under your breath before turning and backtracking.

It’s not lost to him the amount of uncertainty you’ve had ever since he asked you to go with him tonight. Not that he would have given you a choice in the end; he’d have taken you by force if needed. But he’s a passive creature at best, so the less work he has to do, the better.

Using the ruse of there being a surprise waiting for you isn’t entirely untrue. Though, the treat he’s confident that he’s planted the idea of in your head is far different from what’s actually going to happen. He’s spent enough time in the mortal realm to know what you’d have interpreted from him stroking that particular finger with the right look in his eye. Your heart had gone into a frenzy of thick, heavy beats, and your eyes had lit up with wonder.

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he knows what’s driving your feet to move as quickly as they are now. It’ll just make the disappointment taste that much sweeter. Over the five years he’s been administering to you, molding you into the perfect vessel, he’s learned the small nuances that make you tick. Whether it’s for eliciting fear or excitement, desire or anguish, he knows exactly how to produce the results he wants.

“Ugh,” you grumble for the dozenth time when you turn a corner and come to another dead end. “This is impossible. How can you find enjoyment in these things?”

Yoongi smirks. “It’s quite analytical if you really want me to answer that.” The way your nose wrinkles when he says that is positively adorable. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

You gleefully cede the lead, letting him guide you back and toward a different direction entirely. You’re still excited, bubbling with positive anticipation, even though you’re no longer playing the game, per se. It’s interesting how you so quickly relinquish the hunt—he’d never.

The noise of the festival and maze has long since fizzled away. He didn’t actually pay the attendant. He’s just using some of his ability to mask your presence from anyone who might get in the way. Some of the lights from the midway are still going, and a few rides are lit up. However, the deeper Yoongi leads you into the labyrinth, the darker it becomes. He’s confident you’re so wound up that you don’t even notice how his shadows grow and stretch along the narrow walkway around you.

“Oh, look!” You excitedly point at the opening that comes into view at the end of the row. “I can smell the popcorn. Did that bribe include a bucket waiting for us, too?”

Yoongi has no idea if there is popcorn waiting, but he imagines you’re only smelling the lingering scent. He can’t detect anyone else within a hundred-meter radius around the maze. If the prospect of popcorn makes you happy, then sure. “Of course it did. We’ll need a snack once I’m done with you.” Which mostly isn’t true, though he can’t be sure. Yoongi has never shadow-turned a human before, much less taken a mate in the process. You might be ravenous by the time he’s done; though, he’d bet it won’t be popcorn you’ll be craving.

There is a distinct moment where Yoongi can feel the shift in your demeanor. Your excitement dips into confusion as you take in the finish line area that’s deserted of anyone and anything other than the large 10 ft square structure he erected in the middle. The raw malachite plinths are so dark the lindworm-colored stone seems to absorb the illuminance around them, turning the gateway into a giant pit of darkness that devours the faint twinkling lights. Shadows bleed from the open space between the pillars, reaching for their master.

Yoongi’s blood sings with desire as fear trickles in with the confusion. “Yoongi,” you whisper his name, and it warbles from your lips oh so beautifully. “What’s that?”

“That’s your future, my love.” He untangles himself from your grip, circling you like a predator. “Now, run!” he snarls from right behind you.

You don’t even scream when he shoves you forward, your arms windmilling and boots tripping over the scatter of dried corn husks before you topple headlong between the pillars. The last thing he sees before the waiting shadows swallow you is the whites of your eyes as you throw a panicked look over your shoulder at him.

It’s mildly disappointing that you didn’t even so much as grunt or give him any sort of satisfaction that you’re petrified other than the cloying perfume of your terror that settles on his tongue when he huffs in irritation. Hopefully, when he follows you through the gateway, you’ll already be on the run because he’s in the mood to play a while longer before he shatters the world as you know it.

Yoongi wants you to recognize him, so he only casts off some of his mortal form, choosing to keep his face and most of his body intact. What changes is his size; he grows larger, arms and legs longer, fingers more like talons, and eyes the dark red of fresh blood.

He knows he looks monstrous, even more so with the cloth still covering the lower half of his face and the hoodie now ripped and hanging from his physique. As soon as he slides through the barrier of the gateway, he’s met with that euphoric sound he hoped for earlier. Your scream rends through the thick, stale air of the Realm of Darkness, music to his ears.

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi crows, his voice gravelly and distorted by his natural form. He inhales deeply, sucking in your dismay's succulent and divine fragrance. “Fuck.”

You scream again as he steps toward you, which spurs you into gaining your feet, not even caring to look at the soot-like substance caking your hands and knees. Yoongi can only imagine the thoughts warring inside your pretty little head right now. Wild fear makes your eyes flick frantically around before you choose a direction and sprint at breakneck speed between the skeletal trees surrounding this side of the gateway.

He chose the Forest of Decay specifically because it provides the perfect environment for a chase. It allows him to easily keep up with you while giving the illusion of protection. There’s also not a single nook or cranny Yoongi isn’t intimately familiar with; after all, he can’t have you finding some unknown hole to burrow into.

The flash and flicker of your coat draws his attention as it zigs and zags through the petrified sentinels of the forest. Their long, gnarled branches reach far, entwining overhead like a macabre endless bird's nest. It creates a dim atmosphere, with the faintest hint of light bleeding through the limbs. Each tree is about a foot wide and twenty feet high, the ground covered in sooty ash; it’s an ideal playground.

“Leave me alone!” you sob when Yoongi lets you catch another glimpse of him.

Yoongi shudders as a fresh, new wave of terror undulates from you and washes over him. “No can do, my queen.”

The thrill of the chase adds kindling to Yoongi’s need to consume you whole. Every step you take is reckless. You throw yourself around trees so fast you nearly hit the next. The spacing between the trees is relatively narrow, just a few feet at most. Still, with the way you’re barreling through them, you’ve already accumulated a few scratches and minor lacerations from the dried bark, feet kicking up small puffs of ash with every frantic step. The tangy, sweet scent of your blood makes him salivate. The thick, viscous drool coating his tongue will make it all that easier to fuck you with it once he catches you.

Lumbering on behind you, Yoongi intentionally stomps and makes as much noise as possible. Every crack and thump he makes has a whimper shivering from your throat. The thick appendage between his monstrous thighs swells with each terrified sound you make. Fucking you in his proper form will be such a treat. Surely, it’ll be far better than any sex he’s had with the limits of his human body, even if he does love the way your softness compliments his.

But there is nothing soft about Yoongi now—not when he has such a tasty morsel running and screaming so prettily for him. He’s all hard edges and thick muscle. A manic chuckle bubbles in his chest as he leaps ahead, hounding your heels.

It’s comical, ironic even, when he watches your foot catch on a high root hidden by a pile of ash, and you go sprawling on the ground before him. He’s seen enough of those cheesy horror films so fervently worshiped in your world to know how funny this is.

“Please, no! Leave me alone!” you beg through ragged breaths. Your face and hair are marked with scratches, flecks of dried bark, and the pewter-colored ash covering the ground.

An appreciative moan works its way free of Yoongi as he stands over you, swaying like he’s drunk. Which, maybe he is. There is a faint buzzing in his ears, and if he opens his eyes too wide, your image doubles. Two of you; he grins wickedly at the prospect. Now, that would be a definite treat.

As it is, there’s only you; that will be sufficient for what Yoongi has planned. He looms over you, and the backward-bending joints of his knees give slightly as he towers across your prone form. Your eyes pan over his arched body, perhaps for the first time, taking it in with true clarity. Yoongi lets his skin ripple between human and proper form, coalescing and whirling with shadows.

With a flex of darkness, he rends the remnants of his clothes. The ripping of the seams and subsequent soft plop of the ruined fabrics echo through the suddenly silent space. You’re barely even breathing as you take him in, eyes landing on the swinging cock that nearly brushes your belly as he places a gnarled hand beside your head in the ash.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, though it comes out more like sand in a grinder. Lowering further, Yoongi nudges your chin with his nose, guiding your head sideways to give him unfettered access to your throat. Pressing into the crook of your neck, he huffs hot breath over your skin, rejoicing in the instinctive reaction. Your skin prickles and flushes with goosebumps, and a thick cloud of potent fear wafts up as your pulse hammers away beneath his lips.

“P-please,” you whimper through trembling lips. Tears stream down your cheek and drip off the bridge of your nose. Their salty tang mixes with the sweetness of terror pervading the air.

That word, spoken in that way…it does something to Yoongi. He groans, nipping at the skin of your neck with his blunted teeth before letting them elongate so he can adequately graze your papery-thin flesh. You cry out when they slice through, leaving behind thin blood trickles and shallow scratches.

Your blood is laced with fear, blooming on his tongue like an ambrosia of the gods. “You’ve always begged so prettily, my queen. You’re a treasure, and I’m so glad I found you all those years ago, so innocent and unsuspecting—my perfect mate.”

The next scream that leaves your lips is guttural, full of panic and delirium as Yoongi takes his first pull from your body. Thin wisps of black shadow thread from his lips to yours. They pulse with every drag he takes. He’s fed from you thousands of times, but never like this—never so profoundly.

Fear, terror, horror, fright…it’s all the same, and yet Yoongi is almost sure he can taste the distinction. Like a fine wine, you have tasting notes that vary with every sip. By the fifth breath, your body has grown slack, your eyes wide and glassy. Tears still stream down your face but in silence.

Yoongi watches your pallor grow sickly, waxy as sweat pearls along your hairline and temples. Draining you is a delicate affair, something he’s both dreaded and looked forward to for so long. Watching the fire that he loves so much bleed from your eyes and the vigor leech from your skin pangs him with a foreign sensation, something akin to mourning? He realizes now he will mourn the loss of your human form, even if it’s far inferior to what he will turn you into.

With one final shuddering gasp, the darkest, thickest tendril of shadow snakes its way between your parted lips. Your fingers and limbs spasm as the inky darkness roots in deep, tethering itself to you like the strings of a marionette. It pulls tight in Yoongi’s own chest, cementing his essence to yours. As a barbed ring of shadow settles on the ring finger of your left hand, the bond snaps into place, and chaos ensues.

🖤🖤🖤

You’ve never experienced such visceral fear before. It’s consumed every fiber of your being. You’re no longer who you once were and will never be the same again. You are simply fear incarnate.

A boiling starts beneath your skin, beginning at the tips of your fingers and toes before rolling through to the center of your chest, where it pops and sizzles like dry ice in tepid water, so cold it burns.

It’s like flipping a coin. One minute, you are experiencing insurmountable terror, and the next, you exude it. Nothing can scare you now, not even the monster sitting a few feet away watching you with calculated eyes—familiar eyes, eyes you’ve lost yourself in more times than you can count.

They’re not as cold as they were a moment ago. You distinctly remember how those red eyes softened right before you felt yourself float away. It’s Yoongi, you know this, but it’s also not. He’s different, and it’s not even the deformed, gangly shadow form that makes up his body, either. There’s something more, something that draws you in, like an anchor dragging you into his deepest, darkest depths. He’s a vast ocean, and you’re pretty sure what he just did was akin to drowning you—killing you.

Only you don’t feel dead.

Quite the opposite, in fact. For the first time in your existence, you feel truly alive; and not in the living sense but in the eternal sense. You have no ending or beginning; you exist as you will yourself to be.

With that thought, your body urges you to change, to morph into a far more comfortable form. Darkness seeps from your pores, cascading out of your skin until it becomes a mockery of its former self, and it feels good—so good.

“What have you done to me?” Your voice sounds different, soft yet sultry. It reminds you of black silk and lace, devious and coy, with the perfect mix of husk and drawl.

Yoongi lets out a slow breath, the sound like dry leaves crackling. “Made you mine.”

“What…what are we?”

The soft ash sifts between your now exposed toes, the boots you once wore laying in peeled strips along with tattered remnants of your clothes. Nudity has never been an issue for you, but it’s as if you have no inhibitions at all now. The shadows around your body contort to form curves and perfect swells.

“We have many names. Demons, bogeymen…it’s all very fitting, yet doesn’t quite capture the truth. What I am—what we are—is darkness, fear, terror, and shadow. We are infinite, endless, and everything all at once.”

“Why me?” you whisper. That tether inside of you pulses, pulling tight as you shift and try to put distance between yourself and Yoongi. It’s like a rope around your throat, pulling you up short.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. “This is the Realm of Darkness—my domain,” he gestures broadly with a clawed hand, “and it was all I had access to until I found a way to enter yours. Once I tasted the sweet nectar of fear it provided and the power it allowed me access to, I couldn’t stop my curiosity and need for more. Then I found you, and I knew you would be the perfect compliment to my aspirations, just the thing I needed to break the barriers completely.”

He straightens up, and the way his body catches your attention has a heat flaring somewhere deep in your being. Your eyes lock on the dark sinews and plump muscles that stretch and contract as Yoongi moves to crouch in front of you. The ribbed and notched cock swaying between his thighs dribbles a thick, viscous line of lavender-colored arousal.

Tearing your eyes from the sight of it, you force yourself to look into his feral, red eyes. His explanation is both confusing and clear at the same time. You understand it, but know that you should be railing against it because it’s morally incomprehensible. You’ve essentially been kidnapped and forced into what this is. Yet…yet—“I feel…” you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe it.

“Powerful,” Yoongi offers with a knowing, pointed-tooth grin.

“Powerful,” you repeat, letting the word roll around your tongue before nodding. Perhaps that’s why you are shrugging off your cares and the moral compass that has seemingly forgotten how to point north.

The subtle smell of burnt wood and sulfur hits you as Yoongi raises a hand to fit across the front of your throat. Those too-long fingers engulf it, sending a shiver down your new body. Instead of your belly filling up with fear, it fills with desire and need. You no longer need to battle the terror, letting it drip away from you instead.

“Look at you. You’re so perfect. You don’t feel scared, but that’s only because this realm leeches it away and devours it before it can poison your mind, leaving behind nothing but how you truly feel.”

You know there has always been a darkness inside you, something that even you feared to face head-on. After all, it must take some kind of crazy to be both scared of the dark and want to embrace it. It’s not just the way Yoongi plied your body and made you forget to care about being proper and good. Is this what you were made for—all the fright and terror you’ve experienced and secretly sought out leading you to this very moment here?

All it takes is one look at Yoongi to know the truth.

You were created for this, crafted to be precisely what Yoongi needed, just as he said.

With that moment of clarity and acceptance, a new sensation slithers down your spine. A lasciviousness that has you moaning in surprise. 

“Fuck,” you grind out between clenched teeth.

“Gladly,” Yoongi chuckles, his red eyes taking on a lecherous gleam. “Let’s unleash your darkness on the realms, my queen.”

Between one breath and the next, your knees are splayed wide, and Yoongi has his face buried between your thighs. All it takes is one languid swipe of his long, broad tongue to have you cursing again. Caustic words fall from your mouth, laced with vitriol as it’s unfair how good it feels. It’s like every inch of contact between your body and his writes itself across what was once your soul.

“Mmmph,” you moan incoherently as the beginning of an orgasm lashes against your insides. Yoongi greedily sucks and licks, tongue laving over your throbbing clit before sliding between your contracting walls.

A tsunami of darkness crashes out from within you, blanketing the surrounding forest in shadow. Wisps of clarity ebb and flow, drifting along with the gloom until Yoongi grounds you with an exceptionally sharp pinch to one of your nipples.

“Almost there,” he announces gleefully, licking his lips before launching forward and forcing you onto your back.

Yoongi feels like fire against you, his body scorching everywhere it touches. You expect to feel the soft ash against your back but the only sensation that ebbs in is a cool aeration against the exposed skin between your shoulder blades.

Monstrous arms wrap around you as Yoongi slots his too-big mouth over yours, invading you with his slick, serpentine tongue. Your eyes flutter open, and you catch a glimpse of a pewter sky beyond the scraggy branches that are suddenly closer overhead.

You try to pull away from his devouring kiss to alert him to the jagged web of dry wood about to scrape his back, but he growls and renews his effort to shove his tongue as far into your mouth as possible. Snaps and cracks fill the air, and wood explodes around you.

Realization dawns as more should-be-fear-turned-lust pours through your body and expands beyond it, filling the sky around you with a murky darkness. The power of that emotion propels you further, sending you and Yoongi far above the landscape to suspend over the entirety of the Realm of Darkness, leaving a streamer of smoke-like essence in your wake.

Yoongi throws his head back, finally relenting from the kiss. His broad chest heaves against yours, and his red eyes are wild as they roll manically before landing on you. “How is this possible?” you pant, hands gripping the muscles of his shoulders tightly.

“Anything is possible here,” he whispers fervently before spinning you so fast your vision blurs. The horizon spans as far as you can see around you. You and Yoongi are hundreds of feet higher than even the tallest mountain peak. Everything is a monochrome grey, black, or in-between. A jagged line of mountains rear to your right while inky streams and rivers zig zag to your left. It’s a hideously beautiful display that contradicts all scenic views you’ve ever seen, yet is better than all of them combined.

“Oh, God,” you whimper when Yoongi forces your legs wide and slots his hips between them from behind. Shadows billow around you, charged with energy that crackles and sizzles, barely restrained from being unleashed to wreak untold havoc.

Thin fingers slide around to cup the front of your throat, giving a none too gentle squeeze. Yoongi snarls, “There is no God here. We are the gods!” His declaration is punctuated by the head of his cock prodding against your sopping cunt. This new body is already eager to pleasure Yoongi and receive pleasure in kind.

His hips kick forward, and you feel every delicious ridge and ripple along his thick shaft. It feels like he invades the pit of your stomach, filling you to the brink. It’s a rush of wicked delight, pure erotic rapture.

You moan again, this time invoking the only name left on your tongue, “Yoongi!”

“I’ve been looking forward to fucking you like this for five years,” he grunts, emphasizing the words with his hips pumping against your ass in brutal strokes. “Claiming you wholly, decorating the world with our combined shadows. Look how they writhe for you, waiting for you to command them. Let go.”

Your eyes roll from side to side, taking in the dark, undulating forms stretching wide around you. With each prick of pleasure Yoongi insights in your body, they branch and roil further out, creating the foundation for your own personal bedlam. 

Like a bounty won at the end of a hunt, Yoongi ravishes your body with his. He’s brutal, unrelenting and wanton. The hand on your throat tugs with every slam of his hips, bowing your back and forcing you to peer out at the Kingdom begging for your rule. Darkness beseeches you, screaming for your glory and power as it pours out and blankets the sky.

Your world narrows to one pin point of coherency. Yoongi. He is nothing and everything all at once. He is the beginning and the end—fear, loathing, lust, and madness…through it all, he is infinite. And he’s yours.

With one final, shuddering breath you let go; welcoming the darkness once and for all.

“Yes.” The word, whispered from your parted lips, is sucked away with the maelstrom that detonates around and within you.

You barely hear the guttural, primal roar that emits from Yoongi as he buries himself to the hilt and fills you with his terrible darkness. You shatter into a multitude of shards, a glittering storm that dances through the ether, sparking and catching on the thin membrane that stretches between the realms. All it takes is one weak point, a small breach in the barrier, and everything falls apart.

It’s glorious, feeling yourself everywhere all at once. Your body is still fluttering around Yoongi, sucking and welcoming his release into your soul. But, your consciousness is spread wide, bleeding through the nexus of this realm and the one you once called home.

The mortal realm bows to your will. You can feel the beings of the Realm of Darkness funneling toward the broken gateways, pouring through to consume and conquer with the whisper of your glory on their tongues. Fear reigns supreme, consuming everything in its path as you expand your hold on the darkness.

“My Queen of Darkness,” the ephemeral coo caresses your ear, phantom lips brushing along your shadows. Yoongi’s darkness blends with yours, adding to the pulse that seeps to all corners of existence. “No longer will you fear, as you are fear itself…glorious, neverending fear.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-10-23 ColorMePurplex2

[ughobis]

☆_★ #hobiween layouts !! 🗯

☆ fav/reblog if u save or use ★_<

[muniimyg]

halloween extra 》 series m.list

note: happy halloween! the actual ch update will be coming later this week (hopefully!) stay safe 🎃✨

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

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[kpopfanfictrash]

The Horrible Un-Haunting of Elliot House

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Ghost!AU / Romance / Comedy (?)

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Some houses are harder to sell than others but you, Y/N, are determined to find the (supposedly) haunted Elliot House a new owner. That is, until it's very real and very hot exceedingly well-dressed ghost decides to make himself known. If only you didn't find yourself enjoying the knowing.

Rating: PG-13 (kissing but nothing beyond that)

Word Count: 6,214

Author's Note: hope you enjoy this random Halloween "drabble"! This got oddly angsty? I suppose that happens with ghost love LOL

[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]

“Through here,” you say, leading the Gundersons through an arched door. “You’ll find the most adorable sunroom.”

The Gundersons both gasp, appropriately awed by the tall walls of windows. Each panel is topped with stained glass, casting colorful patterns across the checkered floor. Technically, the sunroom isn’t part of the original house – it was added in 1975 during a brief period the address was owned by a cult – but you rarely disclose this fact during tours. Most people don’t care which parts of the house are original, so long as they can say they bought a 19th century Tudor.

Not that you blame them. Most people (or at least, sane people) appreciate the romanticism of an old structure without actually wanting to live in one. Modern amenities are the top benefit of progress, after all. The government couldn’t pay you to live without modern heating, plumbing, or refrigeration.

“Margaret, did you see?” Arthur Gunderson, a slightly rotund lawyer, and husband of said Margaret, gestures emphatically. “I’ll be damned if this stained glass isn’t Tiffany! See there, see that stamp in the corner?”

“Good eye, sir!” you chirp, barely glancing up from your clipboard.

Truthfully, you aren’t sure whether the glass is authentic. The cult that installed could hardly be called profitable (they sold the house at a loss after less than ten years, although this likely had more to do with crimes committed on said property than their income, but you digress), so you’d be hard-pressed to believe they could afford real Tiffany.

If this is what convinces the Gundersons to buy though, you’re hardly a realtor to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Ticking a box in the upper right corner – sunroom – you look up. “Right, well. That’s most of the lower level.” Pivoting on your heel, you head towards the corridor. “If you two will follow me upstairs, we can –”

“What’s that?”

Steps slowing, you stare at the plaster wall. A moment passes, then two before you convince yourself to turn around. When you see where Arthur Gunderson points, a relieved breath leaves your lips.

“Oh, that?” Floorboards squeak as you cross the room, sounding almost like laughter. “That’s the cellar. I’d offer you a look but unfortunately, the staircase isn’t quite up to code. You’ll need someone to look at that ASAP if you buy.”

Hovering at the wooden door, you grasp its bronze knob and pull. Tugging the cord for the light, you briefly scan the stairs but spot nothing unusual. Mostly convinced, you dutifully step aside.

“Feel free to look,” you say brightly.

The Gundersons crowd the landing you vacated.

“Careful, honey,” Arthur warns, holding Margaret’s elbow. “These stairs are steep.”

Standing on tiptoe, Margaret peers beyond him into the basement gloom. It could be your imagination, but she almost seems disappointed. A few cobwebs and shadows line the staircase, but nothing more sinister.

Hiding a smile, you check the next box. Cellar. Sometimes, people request to see this house not because they’re interested in buying it, but for the thrill. Entering the haunted Elliot house and surviving will make a great tale to tell their friends over cocktails.

Lowering your clipboard, you glance upward. So far, everything has gone to plan, which is partly the problem. You must’ve shown this house thirty times and always, something has gone wrong by now. Before being assigned its realtor, you believed in the paranormal, but only in a theoretical way. Not because you’d witnessed anything spectral.

Your opinions since then have changed.

Turning sharply, you plaster a smile on your face. “Shall we?”

Stepping back, Margaret pulls wiry frames from her jacket pocket. “I must admit,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “Based on what our last realtor said, I was expecting far worse from this property.”

Although your smile tightens, you nod. The other realtor had a point – Elliot house could be temperamental, at best. Downright petulant, at worst. You glare again at the ceiling.

“We get that a lot,” you say, ushering them down the hall. Best not to linger. “Whenever a house sits too long on the market, you know – people talk. Lots of rumors!”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur says, passing you with a chuckle. “We’re not superstitious, don’t worry.”

“Oh?” you say lightly, remaining behind. “That’s good to know. Now, if you head down the hall, you’ll reach the foyer. All the crown molding you pass is original. The house’s first owner and builder, Daniel Baker, was something of a craftsman. He –”

Abruptly, you cease talking and stare at the stairwell. Halfway down the steps, where before there was nothing, sits a perfectly ripe orange. Eyes narrowed, you stare at this a long beat before yanking the light cord down and shutting the door.

Glancing upward, you hiss, “Not today, I swear to – well, whatever hellish being you worship.”

The wind sounds almost like laughter, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out if that’s true. Shaking your head, you traipse down the front hall in search of the Gundersons. Luckily, they’re too busy taking pictures of the aforementioned crown molding to have noticed your absence.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing at the front stairs.

Pocketing their phones, they begin their ascent. You wait at the bottom, giving them space to discuss the house. From personal experience, buyers tend to appreciate when you don’t hover.

Besides, the grand staircase is your favorite feature – equal parts artwork and functionality. From your place at its bottom, you admire the craftsmanship. Starting the climb, your fingertips skim whorls in the wood and for a second, you feel a phantom hand rest over yours.

Scowling darkly, you yank your palm away. Reaching the landing, you clutch at your clipboard tighter and walk forward.

“This way!” you say, practically shoving the Gundersons into the first bedroom.

While they ooh and ah about the bay windows, you tick another box on your spreadsheet. Master bedroom.

The second you’re done, the pen slips from your grasp and hovers in mid-air. It then turns, point-down, to scrawl something in the margin.

‘Master’ bedroom? Kiiind of racist, don’t you think?

Teeth gritted, you snatch your pen back. “I wasn’t the one who created the spreadsheet, okay?” you whisper. “And while, yes, I agree, and other realtors are moving away from that language, I don’t–”

“Pardon?” Arthur Gunderson peers, confused, over his shoulder.

Somewhat manic, you smile. “Oh, nothing,” you say, the words sounding high-pitched, even to you. “I was just reminding myself to show you the main bathroom. Beautiful claw-foot tub.”

“Oh. Sure,” says Arthur, returning to his wife.

Head whipping sideways, you glare at the most likely place Seokjin would be. A chuckle drifts past your ear on the other side, and your scowl deepens.

Once an appropriate amount of time goes by, you usher the Gundersons into the next bedroom. Hovering outside, you calculate how quickly you can convince them to leave. The longer they stay, the worse the so-called haunting will be.

You should have known better than to show them this house, but they were insistent. Or at least, Arthur was. Margaret seems reasonably paranoid, which you deem a positive quality. Everyone within a hundred-mile radius has heard of the haunted Elliot house.

Even the name is confusing, since it doesn’t bear the name of its builder, Daniel Baker, nor its longest resident, Mr. Josiah Whitley. Instead, it’s named for Nathaniel Elliot, the cult leader who murdered a man on its premises in 1978. Obviously, this fact wasn’t known to the public until after the cult sold the house and moved far away.

Eventually, Mr. Elliot was tried and found guilty of murder, but this was much later. Wincing a little, you glance at the ceiling. Seokjin has said many times that ghosts can’t read minds, but you wouldn’t put it past him to lie for a punchline. Even if he can’t read your mind, the faint scent of cedar lets you know he’s nearby.

Quickening your stride, you show the Gundersons the next bedroom. “This is one of my favorites,” you say, pulling hard on its warped door. “The view from that window is stunning. You can see all the way to the brook!”

Taking the bait, Margaret crosses the room. “Oh, look, Arthur!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “There’s a gazebo!”

He follows at a more leisurely pace, frowning when he spots a lone cobweb in the corner. Sighing, you swipe at this as you pass, almost certain the web wasn’t there this morning.

While the two converse, you pull out your clipboard and run down the list again.

Most days at your job are like today – running down lists and waiting for other people to make their own life decisions. Becoming a realtor wasn’t so much a choice as it was thrust upon you. When your mom got sick your senior year of grad school, you returned to take care of her and finished your coursework remotely.

There were only so many jobs with flexible hours, and you ended up getting your realtor’s license to support her on the side. When your mom passed, you stuck around to sort out her paperwork and affairs. Two years later, everything is in order and still, you remain. Stuck in a holding pattern, showing houses and too afraid to try your hand at anything different.

BANG.

The sudden noise from above plunges the room into silence. Both Arthur and Margaret swivel, wide eyes landing on you.

Margaret’s glasses chain trembles. “What was tha–”

“My assistant,” you blurt, backing towards the door. “He mentioned he would stop by to drop off some keys. That must be him – I’ll go and check!”

“But…” Arthur stares. “The noise came from above.”

“Be right back!” you call, stepping into the hall.

As fast as possible without raising suspicion, you rush down the hall. “Seokjin,” you hiss, hand skimming the banister as you descend. “Stop that right now!”

No one responds – not that you thought he would. Crossing the foyer, you reach the cellar door and yank it open. Flicking the overhead light, you see the orange has disappeared. Rolling your eyes, you shut the door.

“This isn’t funny,” you huff out loud to no one.

Far above you, a low groan shakes the house. Honestly, it sounds more sexual than scary, but you suppose that only makes it more sinister. Reaching the foyer, you slow your pace and set down your clipboard. Suppressing a sigh, you glance at the clock. This has happened enough times that you can predict things to the minute.

Crossing your arms, you tap your foot and count down in your head.

One – increased groaning. Sometimes from the cellar, often the attic and, during one memorable visit, from behind a locked bathroom door.

Two – shuffling feet while the Gundersons (insert buyer’s name here) debate whether to run or wait it out. They hastily whisper, wondering if it’s their minds playing tricks.

Third – laughter. Seokjin will say it sounds lilting but to you, his laughter is more akin to a car’s windshield wipers. Today, said laughter drifts from the main bedroom, immediately followed by the Gundersons’ screaming.

Directly above you, Margaret’s heels pound wooden floors. Wincing, you make a mental reminder to buff the scuffs from the wood.

“ARTHUR!” she calls, her voice pitching upward.

“Right behind you!” he bellows.

When the lights in the foyer flicker, you lean against the grand railing. In your experience, there’s nothing you can do now to save the showing. As soon as Seokjin reveals himself, it’s only a matter of time.

“Whoooo dareeessss to disturrrrrb meeeee!” he wails, and you try not to laugh. “This is MYYYY homeeee and you are nooooot welcomeeeee! OoOOOOooooOOo!”

Arthur is first down the stairs. Reluctantly, you step forward – as their realtor, you’ll try to calm them down and get them out. All part of the plan. What’s not part of the plan is Arthur’s blind panic, elbowing you – hard – in the stomach as he runs past.

Concaving, you stumble, your foot catching on a loose floorboard as you fall backwards. Suddenly, a pink cushion slides between you and the floor. You land in the middle of it, shocked but unharmed.

Arthur yanks open the front door. “You!” he blurts, whipping around to point. Blinking, you fight the urge to glance over your shoulder. “Yes, you,” he scoffs, spittle flying as Margaret runs past. “I don’t know if this is your idea of a sick joke or what, but your manager will be hearing from me!”

Before you can formulate a response, Arthur is out the front door. You hear the sound of their car starting, exhaust billowing behind them as they speed down the street.

Propping yourself on one elbow, you release a sigh. The house has fallen silent, almost sheepish in its total lack of sound. Head lolling back, you glare at the ceiling.

“You are so annoying,” you groan, well-aware you sound crazy. “I honestly don’t know what you’re looking for, Seokjin. The Gundersons were fine.”

The front door slams.

An outline of a person materializes between you and the living room, seeming composed of dust motes and sunshine. Turning your glare in their direction, you tap your fingers against the oak floor.

Seokjin solidifies fully, rakishly leaning against the paneled wall. He’s dressed in the same navy three-piece suit he wore when he died, albeit with his hair styled in this century’s fashion. Seokjin once said ghosts are able to change their appearance, but most choose not to. There’s little point to it, and it wastes precious energy.

Sadly, he shakes his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Seokjin says, his deep timbre resonating through floorboards beneath you.

“Show off,” you mutter.

Lips twitching, he crooks a finger. The foyer light ceases to flicker, and Seokjin straightens. Dusting invisible dust from his shoulders, he walks forward.

“The Gundersons were tiresome,” he says. “I would’ve been bored of them in months, started haunting again, and this house would’ve gone right back on the market. Really, I saved you trouble in the long run. You can thank me later.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan. “Two commissions on the same property. What a horrible fate.”

“Exactly. You’re welcome.”

Fighting an eye roll, you push yourself upward with cushion in hand. At least Seokjin was kind enough to break your fall, even if he caused the circumstances which led to it in the first place.

Brushing the dirt from the cushion, you shake your head. “You do know that eventually, someone will buy this house and you’ll have to make peace with that fact. Right?”

When Seokjin doesn’t immediately respond, you look up. His dark gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, briskly looking away when he catches you watching.

“I know,” Seokjin says, turning around. “Might I point out though, that I don’t have to make peace with anything. Ghost,” he adds, pointing at himself. “Not making peace with things is our bread and butter.”

“People have owned this house before, though.”

“Boring people,” Seokjin mutters.

“That didn’t seem to bother you back then!”

Seokjin enters the living room. “Ugh,” he groans, dropping onto a chaise. Dust motes spiral around him, as though he were solid. “If I must be trapped on the material plane, Y/N, the least the material plane could do is provide some entertainment. And the lovemaking of two seventy-year-olds doesn’t count,” he adds, fixing you with a glare.

Stifling laughter, you follow him into the parlor. Fluffing the cushion, you replace it on its chair and survey the room. Seokjin lounges dramatically and it could be your imagination, but he almost looks solid. More so than the first time you met, anyways.

He nearly scared the shit out of you, back then. Everyone at the firm warned you this house was haunted but were purposefully vague on the supernatural. The warnings they gave you were borderline mundane.

Oh, yeah, that house has been on the market forever. People say that it’s haunted, but I’d honestly be more worried about rats. Or asbestos – popcorn ceilings didn’t age well for a reason. And I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard a convict once lived in the basement for three months before the cops caught him. Watch out for that!

You entered this house with more than your usual trepidation, pepper spray in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Apparently, the wiring wasn’t all up to code – something you’ve since rectified with the city.

The sound of the door creak could’ve been written by the Brothers Grimm themselves, textbook gothic. Your flashlight swept over dusty floors, faint footprints remaining to remind you of its past. Spine steeled, you forced yourself to continue.

Finding a light switch, you flicked upward, and the chandelier came to life. The lighting was dim, barely enough to see by on a rainy day. Keeping your flashlight, you wandered into the parlor and came to a sudden stop. Forest green wallpaper lined the walls, remarkably intact for its age. Stunned, you turned in a slow circle.

Moody maximalism was one of your favorite design styles, and this room was made for it. With a slightly better attitude, you resumed your walk-through, discovering a hidden cupboard in the kitchen and a dumbwaiter to nowhere. The second-floor entry point had been boarded up, but that could be rectified.

Some of the woodwork of the house was scuffed, and a few corners held fallen leaves, but overall, it was in great condition. None of the realtors had prepared you for that – you arrived expecting a war zone and were pleasantly surprised.

On the second floor, you found a library – or what had once been the library, given the shelving was empty – that made you audibly gasp. Blue-black custom shelves extended along three of the walls. Closer to the door, a bright square of color remained from where a painting had hung.

Curious, your fingers traced the edges. “This place is unreal,” you murmured to yourself.

“I know, right?” said a voice directly in your ear.

Like any sane person, you screamed and jumped skyward. Your flashlight fell, its beam rolling over and over until it hit a baseboard. You didn’t stick around to find out, turning fast on your heel and bolting into the hall.

Thundering down the front stairs – wincing as the wood groaned – you nearly reached the foyer when Seokjin appeared.

“Boo,” he said calmly, between you and the door.

Coming to a shuddering halt, your hand gripped the railing. The ghost was impeccably dressed, if slightly invisible, and raised a dark brow in response to your flight.

Gaze darting sideways, you sought a second exit but all you could recall was the cellar and that wasn’t an option. Years of training from watching scary movies kicked in at that point, and you slowly straightened. Running away would do nothing – a ghost could follow you anywhere – so, maybe reasoning with him would be the best option.

“What do you want?” you asked, masking your fear to plant both hands on your hips. “Who are you?”

Surprise flared in his – admittedly attractive – gaze. Some of the shock had worn off by then, and you could admit to yourself (if to no one else) that the ghost before you was hot. Even thinking this felt ridiculous, and you wondered if your already-fragile grasp on reality was slipping.

Taking a single step forward, the ghost cocked his head. When you stumbled back, his lip quirked, and he appeared by your side.

“Who am I?” he mused, walking in a slow circle. “Awfully strange to ask me that, when I’m the person that died here, and you’ve never stepped foot in this house until now. I would know.”

Started, you turned your head.

This was a mistake since it allowed you to see every ridge of his features. The rounded tip of his nose, his enviably full lips, and a curve to his jawline which could likely cut glass.

Forcing your gaze upward, you found him focused on you. “You… died here?” you asked before you could think better.

His lips thinned. “You know, it’s very rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s personal.”

“Oh,” you said. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t ask,” the ghost replied with a sigh.

Your eyes narrowed, hearing barely hidden laughter in his tone. This ghost was making fun of you. The audacity!

Incensed by this, you lifted your chin. “Wouldn’t asking you whether it’s polite to ask about death be asking you about death, though?”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, slipping both hands in his pockets. “There really isn’t a good way for you to bring up that conversation.”

A laugh escaped, despite yourself.

His gaze flickered, as though oddly pleased. Quickly, the ghost scanned you from your shoes to your face, where he lingered.

“I’m curious,” he mused, resuming his walk in a circle.

Despite your discomfort, you forced yourself to stay still. Even though you could feel each place his gaze lingered – your shoulders, your collarbone, tacing the slope of your cheekbones.

“What are you curious about?” you asked, pushing the words past your lips.

He stopped between you and the door again. Slipping both hands from his pockets, he crossed his arms over his chest. The way his biceps strained against his suit was intriguing, implying there was something to strain against. Dimly, you wondered what a ghost’s gym routine looked like.

Your lips twitched at the thought, and the ghost scowled.

“Stop that,” he commanded. “You should be terrified. I was curious about why you haven’t run yet. Anyone else would’ve by now.”

“Would they?”

“Based on my experience, yes.” He tilted his head. “This is the first time I’ve introduced myself to someone and they stayed. Well,” he amended through teeth. “Stayed without crucifixes, holy water, and a priest.”

“Does that really work?” you wondered, genuinely curious.

“Does what work – exorcism?”

You nodded.

“Clearly not.” He waved a hand down his body. “At least, not in my case. When I first died, I wanted to move on. I was even excited when the first priest arrived, but he did nothing, and neither did the next one… eventually, I stopped hoping. Started haunting, instead.”

“Well, sure,” you said, dazed.

His lips twitched. “My name is Seokjin, by the way. Not that you asked.”

“That was literally one of the first things I asked!”

Ignoring this, Seokjin stuck out his hand. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, ignoring the impossibility of what you were about to attempt while extending your palm. “Nice to meet you.”

Your hands met in the middle and, instead of passing through, you felt your palms brush. For a moment, you touched calluses and warm skin, smelling the faint scent of cloves.

Seokjin went utterly still.

Chin jerking down, he stared at your joined hands. “That’s… never happened before.”

Retracting swiftly, you said the first thought that came to mind. “What? Never touched a woman?”

Scowling, he retracted his hand as well. “I was thirty when I died, Y/N. Not thirteen.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, then paused. “You… haven’t been able to touch anyone since you died?”

“Things, yes. People, no.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “A psychic visited me once. The owners at that time brought her, wanting to see if she could get rid of me.” Seokjin snorted. “She got them to pay her, then said, ‘No.’ Hilarious. And interesting,” he added. “She told me she’d met other ghosts, ones that could interact. Never seemed to work for me, though.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. For it being your first encounter with the supernatural, nothing about this had gone as imagined. You weren’t sure how to converse with a ghost who, for all intents and purposes, seemed fairly normal.

Except for the whole ‘being dead’ part.

“Well.” You shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

His expression remained inscrutable, but for the faintest of seconds, you thought Seokjin looked intrigued. After a moment, he moved closer and leaned in. You caught the faintest whiff of orange, cloves, and cedar on what could have been his breath.

“I suppose there is,” he murmured, and then disappeared.

Since then, Seokjin has appeared each time you returned. The second time, you were halfway convinced your first visit was a hallucination. A theory Seokjin seemed content to feed into, refusing to show himself until you were about to leave. Then, he jumped through the hall closet to yell, “MUTINY!” and cement his presence in your mind.

Seokjin doesn’t dress the same every time. A few weeks into your friendship (if one can call it that), he informed you he could change his appearance but hadn’t done it much. It took energy to appear on the mortal pane, more so if his appearance was altered.

Still, you’ve learned Seokjin will do pretty much anything to commit to a bit. His brand of haunting tends to border on comical. Putting his arms on backwards, headless juggling, vomiting wine – really anything is fair game if not truly grotesque. By now, you’ve seen his whole gambit, which is how you can say today’s performance was lackluster.

Sprawled on the chaise, one foot dangling, Seokjin looks every bit of the tragic lothario. Again, you can’t help but wonder whether he’s gained permanence since the last time you saw him. You could almost swear the chaise sinks under the weight of his frame.

“What is it?” he demands, lazily pushing himself upward.

Something in your chest flutters, although you ignore it. Arms crossed, you fix him with a look of disdain. It’s sinful for Seokjin to look as good as he does – and the worst part is, you know it’s not an illusion.

After you met the third time, you Googled his name along with the house and found multiple hits. Seokjin Kim was killed on October 31st, 1978, by Nathanial Elliot, the leader of the Sunny Days cult. Both Seokjin’s parents joined two years prior, and he’d tried unsuccessfully to convince them to leave by mail and phone.

Eventually, he visited in person and convinced them to go – unfortunately, Nathanial caught wind of the situation and killed Seokjin before this could happen. You saw photos of Seokjin from then and can confirm he was always devastatingly handsome. Often, you’ve wondered if he left someone behind – a wife or a girlfriend – but can’t bring yourself to ask. You aren’t sure which answer would hurt more.

Regardless, you know Seokjin was missed. His parents were the ones who took down the Sunny Days cult, putting their leader behind bars for killing their son. Seokjin admitted once that they tried to tear this house down. They didn’t know he was tied to the grounds, and he didn’t want to tell them. It would’ve been harder for them to move on, he explained, and your heart broke a little.

Not long after that, you accidentally let it slip that Seokjin had a scent. It made him howl with laughter, nearly falling down the front stairs – not that this would’ve hurt him. From then on, Seokjin showed off his growing ability to move solid objects by leaving oranges for you in the house whenever you came. Only another of his practical jokes but lately, it’s made your skin hot to think of.

You realized you felt more than you should for him last month when he saved you from falling. Determined to clear out the cellar, your entire foot went through the first step and Seokjin pulled you to safety.

“Careful,” he murmured, one arm wrapped around your waist. Gently, he eased you backwards and onto the landing. “The top step is rotted through. You’ll need to call in someone to fix that.”

Unable to speak, you nodded and quickly disentangled. Each place he had touched, your skin tingled, and not at all unpleasantly. Since that day, your feelings have only worsened. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows.

Sometimes you wonder whether he feels the same, no matter how hopeless it is.

Heaving a great sigh, Seokjin stands from the couch. Lifting both arms, he stretches this way and that like an overgrown cat. The end of his shirt comes untucked, displaying a flat strip of skin you refuse to acknowledge.

Forcing your gaze to his face, you lift a single brow. Weeks after meeting, you considered Seokjin your friend, or at least an acquaintance. Now, you can’t call this friendship, but not because things between you have worsened. It’s because the more time you spend together, the more you find yourself wishing for something impossible. Something more.

“You know what,” you tell him. “There’s no need to scare off every potential buyer.”

Seokjin pauses, then lowers his arms. “There’s a need when they’re terrible. I’m the one forced to live with them for eternity, not you.”

“It’s not an eternity, though,” you tried to joke. “Eventually, they’ll die – or, so one would presume.”

Seokjin’s face hardens. Before you can take another breath, he’s standing before you. “Much better,” he says, his voice like steel. “I love being reminded that, while the world continues to age around me, I never will. I’ll simply stay on this godforsaken plot of land until the earth is destroyed by its own inhabitants. How long do you think that’ll take, Y/N? One decade? Two?”

Eyes wide, you stare at him in shock.

Seokjin has never spoken to you like this before. Usually, he’s far more cavalier about his reality, easily accepting the fact that he’s a ghost. Never once has he ranted about the world passing by. In fact, Seokjin frequently throws in your face that you’ll soon have more wrinkles than him.

For the first time, you wonder if all that is a front. If perhaps, deep down, all his lackadaisicalness is merely a cover for a deeper kind of fear.

Slowly, you move closer. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive,” you murmur. “Of course, I don’t want you to be forced to live with people you hate. I just meant…”

You trail off, uncertain and Seokjin’s face softens. He moves even closer, his scent comforting you in a way you can’t explain. In a way it shouldn’t be.

“I’ll never get used to this,” you sigh.

You aren’t sure why you’re speaking so softly. Possibly due to his proximity and possibly due to the look in his eyes, studying you as though you’re the impossibility, and not him. Dust motes trail through the air when Seokjin lifts a hand.

With bated breath, you watch as he reaches towards you. At the last second, he shifts and lightly brushes your jaw.

Sharply, you inhale because you feel it. You feel him.

“Seokjin,” you whisper. “What are you…”

Gently shushing, he leans in, and you feel his breath, feather-light, across your skin. Utterly shocked, you go still. It’s his breath that you feel. Breath that shouldn’t exist, according to logic.

Slowly, his gaze drops and stays on your lips. If Seokjin can’t read minds, he must hear your heart racing. The sound of it is all-consuming, drowning out rational thought.

“You want to know what I’m waiting for?” he murmurs, his gaze lifting. “I’m waiting for someone to look at this… house the way you do.”

“A lot of people have liked the house, Seokjin. People who –”

“I don’t want you to sell this house."

Startled, you stop. “Why not?”

His expression twists, revealing his vulnerability. “I think you know.”

Roughly, you exhale.

Yes. You do know. It’s the same reason you’ve half-assed the last six showings at this address. It’s why you keep people from looking, and when they insist, barely attempt to stifle Seokjin’s shenanigans. You could have come earlier today and requested Seokjin to be on good behavior. He would have done it. For you, he would have.

Which is exactly why you didn’t ask.

“I… want to hear you say it,” you say, so low, you’re surprised that he hears.

Achingly slow, Seokjin’s hand slips from your jaw to your neck. When he pulls you closer, you can feel the weight of his hand, the solid pressure that comes from his fingers on your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t want you to go,” Seokjin murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “If someone else buys this house, you’d stop showing it. You wouldn’t come here again, and I can’t leave these grounds. If someone else buys this place” – his breath hitches – “I won’t see you again. I can stomach eternity, Y/N, but not without you.”

“Seokjin.” His name leaves your lips as a whisper, or prayer.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever…” Eyes opening, you look up. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Your voice breaks. “That might make it real. What I want can’t be real, so if I say it out loud, it might vanish and right now, it exists in this tentative space. We exist in this space.”

Lightly, his thumb strokes your throat, and you feel your knees buckle. Every callous, every touch feels so horribly real, it’s making it difficult to remember why this can’t be.

“I’ve stopped wondering what’s real and what’s not,” Seokjin murmurs, his gaze tracing your mouth. “Most people say I shouldn’t exist and yet, here I am. They say I shouldn’t be here, able to touch you like this and yet, I am. They say I shouldn’t–”

Rising on tiptoe, you cut him off with your kiss. Seokjin shudders, his lips parted and warm in the shock of the moment.

 “Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to stare at you in wonder.

Before you can respond, he returns, his kiss wild and fierce. Your own desire surges, touching him hesitantly at first, and then with full abandon. Hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, your fingers curl in his hair to anchor him to you.

Cupping your face, Seokjin pulls your body to his. His touch is reverent, deifying while his hands travel lower to land on your waist. His body curves above yours, catching your gasps with the tip of his tongue. Seokjin feels solid beneath you – solid, and warm, and painfully real.

His mouth moves to your jaw, trailing heat down your throat and across your bared collar. Shivers of pleasure shoot through you as he walks you backwards, pressing your spine to the wall. Briefly – wondrously – you laugh, the sound caught again by his kiss.

Within minutes, you’re panting, heart beating wildly as you grip his hair tighter. Seokjin’s leg presses forward, pushing your thighs apart and you nearly dissolve. He moves harder, faster, as though scared that you’ll vanish. This is the opposite of disappearing, though.

This is together, beneath, and on top as –

“Shit,” Seokjin growls, the sound torn from his throat.

Dazed, you look sideways and realize his hand has gone through the wall.

Seokjin stares at his wrist, his chest rising and falling. Everything you can feel is solid, but his hand sinks through the wall about an inch deep. It’s hard to concentrate with him above you, looking like that. Seokjin’s hair remains mussed by your hands, proving you touched him – however briefly.

Lips thinning, Seokjin pulls his hand out. Purposefully, he lays his palm flat on the wall but it’s clear to you both that he’s concentrating. Some of his pressure dissipates.

“I – fuck,” he exhales, dropping his chin.

Gently, you soothe a strand of hair behind his ear. This is the first time you’ve seen Seokjin anything less than immaculate and goddamn, if it doesn’t look good on him. That’s making it difficult to focus on the matter at hand.

The matter at hand. Ha.

Thinking this, a snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. Stunned, Seokjin glances up with wide eyes.

“Did you just… snort?” he asks, incredulous.

You shake your head, and then nod, sheepish. “Um, yes. I did. It’s just…” Now that you’ve started, you can’t help but continue. “I can’t believe the hottest make-out session of my life ended with your fucking hand through a wall.”

Seokjin stares for a long moment before – impossibly – his chest starts to shake. Before long, you’re both laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Once your laughter has faded though, comfortable silence remains.

Pulling you into his chest, Seokjin’s hand strokes your neck. “I don’t know what this means,” he admits with a sigh.

“Me, either.”

“I do know I want to do that again.”

“Same,” you say, pulling back.

“But…” Seokjin hesitates. “Y/N. You know I’m not… real, right?”

Your heart sinks to your shoes. “You’re real to me.”

“I know.” He speaks softly. “But I –”

Lifting a hand, you press a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” you warn. “Please. I don’t want to think about the future right now. I know I don’t have eternity, but I don’t want what I have without you.”

Something in his gaze breaks but Seokjin merely nods, letting silence fall again. You fear that he’ll vanish, leaving you alone but he merely exhales. The breath brushes your skin.

“Alright,” Seokjin murmurs, winding his hand with yours. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

The ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “What if… we talk about me buying this house?”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!

[kth1fics]

Inconspicuous (M) | KTH (TEASER)

Inconspicuous

⟶ Pairing: Incubus!Taehyung x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Horror, Smut, Rated R | 18+ ⟶ Tropes: Jennifer’s Body Au, Friends to Lovers?, College Au ⟶ Teaser WC: 600+ ⟶ Warnings: talk of d**th, etc (not much since it's a teaser) ⟶ Beta: n/a (but my beauty jo @daechwitatamic looked through here for me) ⟶ Summary: A demonic force possesses college boy Taehyung, causing him to feverishly lust over unfortunate females who are completely out of his league. As his appetite for human flesh keeps Taehyung alive, you – his best friend since childhood – try everything to stop the savage butchery he leaves in his trail. ⟶ Author’s Note: Completely based off from the 2009 movie Jennifer’s Body, I have twisted a little tale of my own. I truly hope my readers enjoy this dip in horrific evil, and please leave any feedback or comments on a reblog, post, or even my ask box! Be mindful: The fic is still currently being written and is subject to change at any given time!

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

You hear the professor mention the debate with his students. He, Professor Greenburg, rests himself atop the corner of his desk as he peels his glasses from his face. The class is divided into a semicircle of chairs, each attached with a small wooden plank which acts as a desk for each student. Taehyung always fancies scooting his chair inches closer to you so he can mumble his remarks and to steal some of your notes or snacks you stuff your bag with.

“Yes, you can!” Your classmate raises their voice to interject another. “Some people are inspired by the movies or shows. Haven’t you seen any news or documentaries?”

“No, it’s not. Movies are not responsible for our actions or pursuit.” Another classmate bounces back.

Taehyung sighs softly, leaning his head against his hand as he shifts his weight. He’s counting down the minutes until your class time is up and for the two of you to leave. At this point it’s routine for the class to continue their arguments and discuss their cases. He just blends into the background and pretends he is invisible.

Dawn, a strong personality sorority sister, sits tall in her seat. Her purple pom-pom pen taps angrily when another student references film and real life being art references and imitation.

“Absolutely not,” she musters her voice up. Her sharp eyebrows stand high on her forehead with shock, “This isn’t a hypothetical situation. It’s not about ‘art’.” Dawn clarifies, “these are real people you’re mentioning. Actual life. This is reality, not a movie.”

“It inspires people and gives people ideas,” you hear someone chirp back. “Think about it, the writers of said movie or show already thought and came up with the scenario. It’s present in at least one person’s mind if you’re being technical about it.”

“And sure, making it into a movie is what? Promoting the idea?” Dawn mocks back.

The class continues to bicker and prod another’s ideas. You attempt to ration a few yourself, listening in and observing the thoughts that come out of your fellow peers. However, Taehyung remains silent. Hushed slightly adjacent to your seat. 

A resounded alert chimes from everyone’s phones, loud and startling. A few of you jump, quickly grabbing at your phones to see what all the noise is about. From your device, you see a campus-wide notification. Seems that everyone else received the same one.

You scan the words as someone else verbalizes it for the class.

“Campus curfew?”

The buzzing begins small but grows loud fast.

“All classes after 4:30 PM are canceled and will be merged online for the time being.”

You can hear the groans and moans coming from the other classes down the hall. Maybe some students are happy about the sudden transition.

“What’s this about?” You question out loud, turning your head around to see if you can find the answer from someone. Even when you turn to Taehyung, you see the disappointment of him being clueless.

“Beats me,” he shrugs.

“Is this about what happened from the town over?” You hear a curious classmate ask Professor Greenburg. “From last weekend?”

“It’s tough to say something like that is related to this,” he honestly replies. Professor Greenburg is still rereading the notification from his cellular device. “It wasn’t directly affiliated with the campus or student body, but if it were the case, it’s a precaution to keep things safe.”

“Maybe the police recommended it,” Dawn comments. “I just heard from a friend at a nearby university that they also were given a curfew at their school earlier in the week.”

You tune back to Taehyung, whispering, “What happened?”

“Didn’t someone die?”

“Die?”

“Killed,” Taehyung boldly refines. “Murdered.”

⟶ Estimated Posting Date : Halloween 2023

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[i-am-baechu]

♡ Summary: There’s a rumor that there was a vampire on the block. Y/N didn’t believe in the supernatural but Jungkook has plans to change that 

♡ Pairing: Strangers to lovers (kind of); Jeon Jungkook x reader

♡ Rating: Explicit (18+) 

♡ Genre: Vampire! Jungkook, human! reader, officer worker! reader, officer worker! Jungkook, romance, fluff, smut and angst 

Author's note: Happy Halloween!!! Be careful out there tonight : )

Y/N sat at her desk writing away her report for her boss. She couldn’t help but listen to the conversation next to her as she continued to stare at the boring document. 

“I saw him, I swear Hanni!” 

“Maya, I don’t know...It was in daylight. Vampires can't live with the sun. They sparkle.” 

“Hanni, that’s twilight. That’s not all vampires and if it is all vampires, that’s stupid.” 

Y/N had to hold in her laughter but she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling at the ridiculous topic. The whole office building has been talking about this since last year. There was an article claiming that there was a girl who was bit at a club and had to get a blood transfusion. Y/N thought this was random but she thought it was possible that she was sadly assaulted and the reporter wanted to make a story out of it. Ever since then, everyone has been talking about this vampire. 

When she says everyone, she means everyone. Even her mother back in her hometown was talking about the vampire of Seoul. It was as if this vampire was everywhere in the country. Her family believed it but she didn’t. Vampires are stories to scare kids or lessons for people. That’s it.

Y/N typed her last sentence and smiled to herself. The report that she has been working on for a week is finally done, she deserved a shot. She sent the document to her boss and cracked her fingers as she let out a small yawn. She stood up and started walking to the break room to grab water when she felt a presence next to her. She looked to her right and smiled, “Good morning, Soo-young.”

Soo-young waved at her and pushed up her glasses, “How’s the report?”

“I just finished it. I was actually going to ask you if you were up to get boba after work. Since I couldn’t make it last time because of the report.” 

Soo-young smiled and nodded her head, “That sounds fun. Can I bring someone along?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow and entered the breakroom, “Oh, is it Irene?”

Soo-young shook her head as she opened the fridge, “No, he’s a new transfer and I thought I would invite him to make him feel welcome.”

Y/N nodded her head and took a sip of her water, “Okay, I’m okay with that. What’s his name?”

“Jeon Jungkook.” 

Jungkook smirked to himself at his computer as he closed another tab. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took out his phone, Don’t scare her off.  Jungkook rolled his eyes and put his phone back. His hyung loved making him worried and nervous about his next moves but not this time. He wasn’t going to let her slip away, again. 

Y/N went back to her desk and saw Hanni showing pictures of the said vampire. Y/N rolled her eyes at this and sat in her chair. This rumor about this vampire was getting annoying. Hearing it almost became a headache. She put her headphones on and decided to watch her YouTube videos, at least then she could be entertained with her own things. 

The end of the day came by fast for Y/N. She had two meetings and looked at the data that someone sent her. She gathered her things and headed towards Soo-young's office. She said her good-byes to the people walking past her and some fake smiles here and there. She knocked on the door and when she opened it she was met with a handsome man that looked like her age. She raised her eyebrow and gave him an awkward smile, “Hello?”

“Hey, are you Y/N? Soo-young was just telling me about you.”

“I am her and you are?” 

The man gave her a small smile and leaned against the door frame, “I’m Jungkook.” 

Y/N nodded her head and looked over his shoulder to see Soo-young shutting off her computer. She looked back at Jungkook and smiled, “Welcome to the company. How are you liking it?” 

“It keeps me busy. So far I’ve only had two reports to do.” 

“That’s not bad. Is Mr. Lee your boss? Or is it Mr. Park?”

“Mr. Lee.”

Y/N nodded her head and looked over his shoulder to see if Soo-young was coming. She felt really awkward talking to him. She wasn’t the best at talking to new people and for some reason with him, it made her feel weird. She just wanted to get her boba and have a good time with Soo-young. 

Speaking of Soo-young, “Y/N, Jungkook, are you guys ready?” 

Y/N sent a wide smile to Soo-young and nodded her head, “I am. How was your meeting?” 

“It went well. Mr. Park was nicer this time to me.” 

Jungkook let out a small laugh and nodded his head, “I think he was flirting with you, Soo-young.” 

Soo-young shook her head with her cheeks slightly red, “Don’t say that stuff. He’s my boss.”

“Doesn’t stop most people.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrow and shook her head, “What drink are you getting Soo-young?” 

The group moved out of the building and Y/N was only really talking to Soo-young. She tried making conversation with Jungkook but she was getting a weird feeling towards him. She did her best to ignore him but he always found his way into the conversation. They finally sat at the small cafe and Y/N was looking out the window as Soo-young was talking to Jungkook about something. She didn’t notice Jungkook taking small glances at her. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and she took it out. 

Y/N, your mom is here. She wants to talk and brought cake over...sorry, I didn't mean to eat it all. 

Y/N sighed to herself, causing Soo-young to turn towards her with a concerned look, “Is everything okay?”

“My roommate texted me that my mom is there for me. I should go, sorry Soo-young.”

“Namjoon is home? He usually is out late.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Jungkook, “Sorry that I have to leave so early. It was nice meeting you though.”

“Likewise. Hope we can meet again.” 

She nodded her head and waved at them (she was mostly waving at Soo-young). She felt uneasy with Jungkook. She didn’t know if that’s the word. She just felt weird towards him. She walked away from the cafe and Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He sighed to himself and looked at Soo-young, “Does she know about you?”

“No, she doesn’t. Do you think a human would believe in werewolves? She doesn't believe in the supernatural.”

He leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, “She has to feel something towards me, right?”

“I can’t answer that, Jungkook. Only she can.”  

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, “She lives with a man?”

“A gay man.”

Y/N opened her door to see her mother eating a piece of cake on her couch with Namjoon talking to her. She took off her shoes and entered the living room, “Hi Mom.”

Y/N’s mom placed the plate on the coffee table and smiled at her, “Hey baby. How was work?”

“It was work. Should I be worried since you came all this way to visit me?” 

Y/N’s mom let out a small laugh and shook her head, “I just wanted to talk to you. Do you know a young man named Jungkook?”

Y/N stopped in her tracks and glanced at her with wide eyes, “I only know his name, that’s it. Why?”

“He lives next door to us now and I was curious if you knew him. He said he started working at your company, he’s very handsome.”

Y/N's eyebrows scrunched together, he lived next to her mom? That has to be a coincidence, “I met him today. He was kind of weird.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and stood up from the couch, “You think everyone is weird, Y/N.”

“And I’m usually right.” 

Jungkook entered his house to see Seokjin standing there with a glare causing him to roll his eyes, “What?” 

“I told you to wait. Soo-young told you she was-”

“Hyung, I needed to see her. You out of everyone should understand that.”

Jin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “Jungkook, just be careful. She’s a human.”

“She’s not just a human, she’s my soulmate.” 

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Y/N poured herself some coffee and she leaned against the kitchen counter at work. This morning there was no talk of the vampire and it made her feel better. It was a peaceful morning, just her and her coffee. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath causing her to smile. She opened her eyes and saw Jungkook coming in. Her smile dropped. 

“Good morning Y/N.”

She placed her coffee on the counter and gave him a fake smile, “Good morning, Jungkook.” 

He smiled to himself and poured himself a cup of coffee, “Good morning so far?”

“Yeah, it's been great.”

Jungkook stood next to her and took a quick sip, “Why is that?”

“First time in a while that I didn’t hear people talk about that vampire.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrow at this and nodded his head, “Which vampire? I heard there are four living in Korea.”

Y/N fought back her eyes rolling and sighed, “You believe in that?”

“Of course, you never know about this world. Anything can happen, you know.”

“Vampires and all that supernatural aren’t real. Just stories for kids.”

Jungkook let out a small chuckle and shook his head, “You should believe in more things, Y/N.”

When he said that line for some reason her heart started beating fast. She felt electricity go through her body as if that sentence meant the world to her. She quickly shook her head and took a sip of her coffee, “I believe in things that have science behind them. I have to go, it was nice talking to you.”

“You can always talk to me, Mrs. L/N.”

Y/N nodded her head and quickly left feeling his eyes on her back. She didn’t dare to look behind her. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. She went to her desk and ran her fingers through her hair. Why was Jungkook so weird? 

She shut off her computer after her long day at work and left. She held her bag close because it was dark outside. She usually tried to leave early but today she didn’t really have a choice to leave late. She had two late meetings with her boss about her project, it had to be done. 

She went to unlock her car but felt eyes on her. She looked around her and the streetlights were the only thing that she saw. She swallowed some spit and quickly unlocked her door. She jumped into her car and locked the doors. Ever since she met Jungkook, weird things have been happening. She felt eyes on her twenty-four seven, she felt weird towards him, and it feels like she needs to see him every day. She had to try her best to avoid him tomorrow.  

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

A month has passed and the feelings she had towards Jungkook haven’t changed. She couldn’t explain her feelings to Soo-young or even Namjoon. She didn’t hate nor like him, he was just there. The one feeling that's been constant is that electricity feeling she felt one time. It wasn’t just her feelings she was confused, it was her dreams. She saw Jungkook in every dream she had. It was usually them together but the clothing was in a different period. It was weird.

She had to watch over her parent's house as they went on a quick vacation. She unlocked the door but before she entered she heard that voice, “Peek-a-boo...”

She rolled her eyes and turned around to see Jungkook looking at her with a small smirk, “Hello, Jungkook.”

“Are you here for Halloween?” 

She shook her head and put the keys back in her purse, “No, I’m house-sitting for my parents. They went on vacation.”

“So you're not doing anything for Halloween?” 

“No, I’m probably just going to watch some movies and sleep.”

Jungkook nodded his head at this and smiled at her, “How about I come over and we can celebrate Halloween together.” 

Y/N let out an amused chuckle at this, “You want to celebrate Halloween with me?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I asked.”

Should I invite the guy who has been making me feel weird over? “No, it’s okay. I should be fine with the movies. Thanks for the offer.” 

Jungkook smiled at her and nodded his head, “Alright, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Jungkook.” 

She watched him enter the house next to her and she sighed. This night is going to be a long one. 

After finishing Halloween town, she decided to go to sleep. She lay in her parent's bed and stared at the ceiling with a blank expression. For some reason, she started to think about Jungkook. What was he doing? Did he eat? All those questions flowed through her mind and she didn’t know why. It was annoying. She closed her eyes and let sleep take over her. 

“Jungkook, we’ve been married for five hours and you're already hard.”

Jungkook let out a deep chuckle and placed her on the counter. He leaned forward placing kisses on her neck making sure he was grinding himself into her. Y/N let out a small moan and he smirked at this, “I can’t help myself with you as my wife.” 

Jungkook lifted up the white skirt and started to touch her over the delicate fabric. She was already wet from their previous make-out session. He started to unbutton her buttons to reveal a white bra. He circled his fingers until he entered one finger inside of her causing her to let out a small gasp, “My wife.” he whispered directly in her ear and it made her shiver at his voice. Jungkook was spreading her pussy more, there was only one finger and the clenching she was doing was driving him crazy already. 

Jungkook got on his knees and leaned down to lick up her wet pussy. Flicking his tongue at her clit, “Finally married to my forever.”

Y/N lets out another moan as she tries to cover her mouth from moaning loudly. They were only in the hallway of the church and she didn’t want their family to see them like this. It was so bad but it felt so right at the same time. 

Jungkook focused on her clit, drawing it in between his lips and driving his tongue into the bud as his fingers thrust up into her. 

“My husband.”

“That’s right baby.” Jungkook smiled and kissed her inner thigh, “I’m your husband.” 

Y/N pressed herself stronger against his fingers and she started to tremble, “Jungkook, I need you now.”

“Already begging my dear. I need to show you patience but first...Can I bite you?”

Y/N smiled at this and slid off the top of her dress. She leaned her head to the side to show off her neck to him, “Bite me, Jungkook. Please.”

“Anything for you.”

He stood up from the hardwood floor and looked at her. Jungkook licked his teeth and all of a sudden two sharp teeth were highlighted under the moonlight. He leaned forward and gently kissed her neck, “My forever.” 

He sank his teeth into her neck-

Y/N shot up in her bed and was breathing heavily. She touched her neck and shook her head, “What the fuck was that?” 

Jungkook lay in his bed with sweat dripping down as he stroked himself. He was having the same dream as Y/N and it made him miss her even more, “Fuck Y/N.” He continued to stroke himself until his hands and stomach were covered with cum. He let out deep breaths as he lay there without moving, “Y/N...please remember me.” 

Y/N tried to ignore Jungkook the next day. She had a wet dream but not only that she had a dream of him being a vampire. The same thing that she didn’t believe in. It had to be because it was Halloween. That’s the only logical reason for everything. She sat in the living room staring outside the window with a blank expression. She had no idea what was happening to her but she disliked it greatly. 

There was a knock on the door and she raised her eyebrow. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She got up and opened the door to reveal Jungkook looking at her with pleading eyes, “Y/N can we talk?”

“Ummm...sure?”

He nodded his head and entered the house as Y/N followed him a few steps behind. Jungkook was nervous and was rubbing his neck at a fast pace, “Y/N...I can’t hold back anymore?”

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N, you are my soulmate. I know you’ve been having dreams of our past.”

Y/N choked on her spit and stared at him with wide eyes, “I-I-What the hell are you going on about Jungkook?”

“You had a dream last night about us fucking. Is that true?”

“I-I-Why does it matter to you? Jungkook leave-”

“It matters to me because I’ve been waiting for you. You are my forever. I love you so much that I waited for you every century and now you're here...I simply can’t let you go.”

“A Century? Jungkook you're being ridiculous-”

Jungkook walked up towards her until he was standing right in front of her. Their eyes met and they continued to stare at each other. She was frozen under his eyes but she didn’t want to look away. He leaned down and their noses touched. He looked back into her eyes to see if she was uncomfortable and he had to hold back a smile when he sensed none. He placed his lips on hers and he closed his eyes letting his love be felt. Y/N slowly closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss felt passionate and it was as if they had loved each other for years.

She quickly came to her senses and pushed him away, “Jungkook...I think you should leave.”

“My forever, you have to have memories of us now. We-” 

“I-I...Please leave.” 

Jungkook nodded his head but before he left the house, he glanced back at her, “I’ll be waiting for you.” 

When the door closed she clenched her chest and closed her eyes, “I...there’s no way. This has to be a dream.” She pinched her arm and when she realized it was true she stood there with a blank expression. She had no idea what to do or what to believe in anymore. 

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Three days. Three days and there was no conversation between the two. It was until Y/N slammed open his office door and he stared at her with a confused look, “Y/N?”

“We were married. I tried killing you when we first met because you were a vampire. I didn’t want to be with you but you told me “I should believe in more things.” We got married but the marriage was short because of the black death. Jungkook, what the fuck? You fucking stalked me, you fucking creeper.” 

Jungkook let out a small laugh and nodded his head, “I know...I’m sorry about that. It’s just when I saw you again, I just couldn’t leave you. It’s been forever since I saw you Y/N. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t right.” 

Y/N had a whole speech ready and she stared at him, “As long as you know...I guess. Now what?”

Jungkook got off his chair and walked slowly toward her, “Do you want to be with me, forever?” 

She closed the door and locked it, “I think you should show me how sorry you are about making me uncomfortable.”

[melancholy-of-nadia]

Devil by the Window (m) | knj

title: Devil by the Window pairing: namjoon x f. reader, a tiny bit of yeonjun x f. reader rating/genre: m ; smut ; HORROR; HALLOWEEN; summary: you are spending halloween night with two of your best friends, yeonjun and namjoon while having a halloween movie marathon at the olders' house. when you receive a strange phone call filled with moans and a knock that leaves you with a piece of paper that says 11:58, you wonder whether it's a prank or ominous warning of what is yet to come. warnings: dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, breast play, hickies, slight body worship if you squint, horror, haunting things happening, paranoia, smut, making out, creampie, namjoon has a marking and ownership fetish, biting, jealous namjoon?, TXT YEONJUN, blood, death, cliché horror tropes based on two different movies lmk if you catch them note: thank you @daegudrama for beta reading as always and supporting this... fcked up halloween dumpster fire last minute HAPPY HALLOWEEN Y'ALL 🎃 FEEDBACK & Comments are much appreciated !! total word count: 2.2k drop date: october 31st 2023, 8:00pm pst cross posted on ao3 here - -

It’s a chilly Halloween night, and you, Namjoon, and Yeonjun have gathered at the olders' house to enjoy a horror movie marathon.

The living room is adorned with eerie decorations, and a flickering jack-o'-lantern casts eerie shadows across the room. The three of you settle in, ready for a night of spooky fun.

As the movie plays, you can't help but get engrossed in the suspenseful plot. The room is dimly lit, creating the perfect atmosphere for a night of frights. The eerie silence is occasionally punctuated by gasps and laughter.

Suddenly, your phone rings, shattering the silence. The caller ID displays the words "unknown," and you hesitate before answering it. You are shocked when you hear harsh breathing that eventually turns to faint moans on the other end. Why does it sound uncannily like Namjoon? Your eyes widen glancing at Namjoon, who is sitting right next to you, engrossed in the movie. It's impossible for the sounds to be coming from him. He's right here!

Your heart races as you listen, unable to comprehend what you're hearing. It sounds like Namjoon, and yet, it can’t be. The unsettling, yet seductive moans continue for a few moments before the call abruptly ends, leaving you in a state of disbelief and unease.

"Who was it?" Namjoon asks as he grabs another handful of caramel popcorn from the pumpkin bucket next to him.

"Uh, all I heard was breathing and moans."

Namjoon nods, but Yeonjun chuckles, popping a handful of caramel popcorn into his mouth, his amusement contrasting with the eerie situation. "Breathing and moans, huh? Sounds like a childish Halloween prank."

You join in the laughter, trying to ease the tension that had settled in earlier. "Yeah, it's probably just some dumb kids trying to spook us on Halloween. Nothing to worry about."

Yeonjun, trying to ease the tension, chuckles and says, "Exactly! Don't let it get to you." He seems convinced that there's a logical explanation for the unsettling events.

With the unsettling phone call still fresh in your mind, you try to immerse yourself in the movie, hoping to forget what you had just heard. But not even five minutes later, the doorbell rings, jolting you and your friends from the eerie atmosphere of the film.

You exchange bewildered glances with Namjoon and Yeonjun. It's already close to midnight, and it seems unusual for trick-or-treaters to still be out at this hour. Deciding to investigate, you volunteer to open the door, determined to put your fears to rest.

However, as you swing the door open, there's no one in sight. The porch is empty, and the dimly lit street seems devoid of any Halloween revelers. A chill runs down your spine, and you glance down at the ground, where you find a folded piece of paper. The note simply reads, "[11:58PM]." Panic wells up inside you as you look at the clock on the wall. That is 20 minutes from now.

With a sense of urgency, you rush back to the living room, trying to explain the eerie note to Namjoon and Yeonjun, who are both puzzled by your urgency.

"There was no one outside! Except this note that says '[11:58PM].' I'm actually pretty scared."

Yeonjun shrugs, trying to dispel the unease that has settled in the room. "Come on, Y/N, It's probably just some dumbasses trying to prank you.”

“Calling me and coming to Namjoon’s house with a note…? It happened within a 5 minute timespan, Yeonjun!”

“I don’t know. But it's getting late, so I think I'm calling it a night. I have work tomorrow at 9 am."

“Fine. Okay bestie.” You sigh. “Are we still on for boba after you get off work with Taehyun and Jungkook?”

“Yeah, of course!”

You reluctantly lead Yeonjun to the door, giving him a hug goodbye, and wishing him a safe drive home. 

"Thanks for coming over, Yeonjun. Call me if you need anything, and I'll let you know if anything else happens."

“No worries, have a good night.”

As the door closes behind Yeonjun, you return to sit on the couch to face Namjoon, your heart heavy with the weight of the eerie events that have unfolded. The clock on the wall continues its relentless countdown, bringing you closer to "[11:58PM]." You and Namjoon are now alone in the dimly lit living room, and the sense of impending dread grows stronger. You had planned to stay over at his house, which he is okay with.

You take a deep breath and look at the older man, your eyes filled with uncertainty. As you're about to ask him to help you get to the bottom of this weird situation, Namjoon suddenly speaks up, his voice carrying an unexpected tone.

"So, do you have something going on with Yeonjun?" Namjoon's question catches you off guard, and you struggle to find the right words.

"Huh?"

Namjoon continues, "You guys seem pretty close. You're even seeing him tomorrow."

You try to explain, "Well, we're the same age and grew up in the same hometown together, but he's just a best friend to me."

Namjoon's expression shifts, and he presses further, "What about me?"

You hesitate, the memory of the phone call with the alluring moans echoing in your mind. 

"You... well," You stammer, your voice softening as you struggle to find the right words. "I feel different about you because I kind of like you as more than a bestie."

Namjoon's lips curve into a small, knowing smile as he responds, "Oh, really?" 

The tension in the room seemed to shift from fear to something entirely different.The atmosphere crackled with a potent mix of desire and danger. In a sudden, unexpected move, Namjoon pushed you down on the couch, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fiery intensity. With the specter of the imposter momentarily forgotten, your lips met in a passionate kiss. 

The room seemed to shrink, closing in around you as the intensity of your connection with Namjoon deepened. The haunting memories of the imposter and the eerie events of the night faded into the background, replaced by the powerful magnetism drawing you closer. With every touch, every kiss, you found solace and passion in each other's arms.

Namjoon's lips left a trail of fiery kisses along your neck and collarbone, his mouth hot against your skin. Each kiss was punctuated by a soft, needy sigh escaping your lips, your fingers threading through his hair as you pressed him closer.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your throat, and he sucked gently, leaving several marks that would linger long after this night. A quiet gasp escaped you, a mixture of pleasure and surprise, as he continued his ministrations, leaving a trail of hickeys. Your mind fills with a lustful haze as you watch him pull his sweatpants down, revealing his extremely hard cock. The sight makes you soak your panties a bit more than they were before.

“I guess Yeonjun lucked out on such a pretty girl like you.” 

You don’t have enough time to question or say anything else as Namjoon pulls off the skirt you are wearing, leaving you in your black lace underwear, displaying a dark, wet patch visible in your crotch. You didn’t expect this to happen tonight, but you are ready for him to fuck you senseless.

Namjoon's voice is filled with desire as he whispers, "So wet for me," his fingers teasingly sliding your panties down just enough to explore your pussy. He gently eases a finger into your wetness, and a soft, pleasurable moan escapes your lips.

“You’re adorable, Y/N.” Namjoon teases as he kisses you again, sliding his finger out of you. He takes off your crop top and unhooks your bra behind your back tossing both items to the floor, beginning to plant plenty of kisses on your breasts.

“Namjoon…please…fuck.”

“So eager for me, a shame that Yeonjun won’t get to fuck this pussy.” He whispers seductively to you as he runs his hand along your thigh. Fuck, his words leave goosebumps on your skin. He slides your panties all the way off, and you spread your legs out as much as you can. He then slowly places his cock near your entrance teasing momentarily before sliding into you fully. This action draws a long moan of pleasure out of you.

He smiles down at you, having successfully ruined you, and silenced you with his finger. 

“All mine. Just mine.”

Your eyes roll back, all you can feel is him thrusting in and out of your soaking pussy, making you blush all over. He looks deep into your eyes as he fucks you. You are overwhelmed by the lewd wet squelches your pussy makes as his cock enters you. The arousing sounds bring you closer to your climax. 

“Such a slut for daddy’s cock.” He grunts. “You like being fucked like this?”

“Yes, N-Namjoon…” You whisper. “Please don’t stop…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my love.” He smiles almost lovingly down at you, caressing your cheek with his hand as he still thrusts inside you.

This is sex. Really good sex. Probably the best sex you’ve ever had. All your past boyfriends and friends with benefits could never compared to the euphoria that Kim Namjoon is giving you. He is so sweet, so charming. Everything a girl could want in a lover.

“I’m getting closer.” You breathe out.

“Me too.” He grunts, grabbing your chin, making you look directly at him. “Let’s do it together.”

And with those words, he lets go. You can feel the heat of his cum flow through your walls. The downright lewd noise he makes on his release is just enough to cause your orgasm as well, your cum enveloping his cock as he pulls out of your pussy. Why did those exact moans from him give you deja vu? In your post orgasm haze you can’t quite remember why this thought came about.

You’re both out of breath, him from fucking you and you from being fucked. He stares down at you as you both take a few deep breaths. Your heart is racing, and your body is still tingling from the passion you both shared. 

He decides to get up, putting his pants back on, and goes to find a towel to clean you up. The dimly lit room takes on a new, intimate atmosphere as you catch your breath and bask in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. You decide to get up too and start putting your shirt and skirt back on, patiently waiting for him to return. 

However, the sudden ringing of your phone shatters the moment, and you fumble to reach it. Panic surges through you as you see Yeonjun's name on the caller ID. You quickly answer, hearing the urgency in his voice.

"Listen to me carefully, Y/N." Yeonjun says in a panicked tone. "You need to leave Namjoon's house right now. Because, that's not Namjoon!"

Your heart skips a beat, and confusion and fear wash over you as you ask, "Huh? What are you talking about?!"

You hear police sirens on the other end. And that’s when you hear Namjoon’s voice on the other side of the phone talking with Yeonjun. Before Yeonjun can respond to your question, you turn around and see the figure that looks like Namjoon standing there, holding a knife in his hand. The menacing glint in his eyes sends shivers down your spine as you realize the horrifying truth - the person in front of you is not the real Namjoon, and danger is looming in the dimly lit room.

As you make a break for the door, determined to escape the menacing imposter, your heart pounds in your chest, and adrenaline courses through your veins. You hope to reach safety, but the imposter, still wielding the knife, moves swiftly to intercept you.

In the struggle that follows, you desperately try to dodge a direct attack, but to no avail. The imposter's knife slices through the air with a malevolent swish, finding its mark on your abdomen. Agonizing pain sears through your body as the blade cuts deep, leaving a gaping wound in its wake. A guttural cry of anguish escapes your lips as you collapse to the floor, the shock and pain overwhelming your senses.

Clutching your wounded stomach, you feel the warm stickiness of your own blood oozing between your fingers. The room spins, and your surroundings blur as the floor beneath you becomes stained crimson, the red liquid pooling around you like a sinister halo. The metallic scent of blood hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid undertone of fear, as the imposter, their face twisted with malevolence, continues to advance with deliberate, haunting steps.

Tears well up in your eyes as you gasp for breath, the pain nearly unbearable.

"W-Who are you?! Why are you doing this to me?!"

The fake Namjoon chuckles darkly, the sinister glint in his eyes unrelenting. "I said you're mine. And you will be mine. Just like this. Forever."

Your world spins into a growing blur as you fight to stay conscious, the imposter looming over you, and the horrifying realization that this is it.

In your final moments, you glanced at the clock on the wall, its numbers glowing ominously.

11:58.

The seconds tick away, echoing the dreadful countdown as "Namjoon" lifts his hand to deliver the final, fatal blow. 

The world around you fades into an abyss of darkness.

[mak3itr7ght]

Pair: Park Jimin x fem!reader (Coraline and the secret door AU)

Words count: 5.278

TW: mention of blood.

Music suggestion:

Y/n's pov :

'Here we are, Y/n! This is the place where your father and I have met! The Pink Palace...’

As soon as I got out of our car, the grandeur of this huge house overwhelms me. It looks like a very old... and creepy building but, to be honest, I like this. It’s not that I’m a goth or something but I’m into this kind of vibe, just enjoying it without being fully part of it. My family and I will stay here for the two upcoming weeks, and I really prefer to stay here, in this mysterious, greyish-looking place, instead of spending our vacation on an exotic beach, smelling of suncream. That’s not for me. That’s not for Y/n Lovat.

I like the sea, i like walking there at night, when there’s no one else but me and myself, getting lost into quietness and into the sound of the waves. I enjoy being alone and I don’t feel bad for this. Sometimes solitude heals.

Anyway!

I can’t wait to explore the house. My parents have told me some stories…they told me about an alternative world, you can have access in It only through a little door, and it looks like that, that door, is right among these walls. But that world is filled with bad things, they said, and then they just tried to reassure me by specifying that that world wasn’t real; that it isn’t real. They don’t know that i could feel sadder if i actually find out that it is really all fictional…eheh so I must find out if I should be sad or not.

Once I enter in the house, I immediately start to look around, searching for hints when my mother’s voice interrupts me.

‘I know what you’re thinking about. You won’t find it, because, as we said, it doesn’t exist. Got it?’

Sometimes, Mom and her sixth sense scare me. But her words don’t stop me from my investigation. Still, when this topic comes out, in her eyes, I always spot a veil of agitation, like she’s hiding something from me and I’m sure that Dad knows about it. But it doesn’t change my mind at all, I’m the kind of person who needs physical proof to consider something real or fake.

During evening

The right moment came: Mom went to shopping, and the supermarket is quite far from here, Dad is doing a visit to some neighbors, two old women, he told me, so I’m sure that they will keep my Dad enough busy with their chatting, along with tea and cookies. I have the whole house free, for at least two hours. It’s time to get in action. Let’s start upstairs. I look around, searching behind the paintings and analyzing carefully each room. Nothing. I’m walking across the hallway when suddenly I trip onto something. It is a floorboard slightly raised. They told me the house was restructured, still, there’s the risk to get injuries around! I stand up, massaging my hip, the one that hit the ground. While tripping, I removed completely the floorboard and I notice that, in the whole it was covering, there is a small dusty trunk. I take it. It looks like there was a lock or something, but it was already removed. Mh.. strange, but maybe it’s just the metal that got consumed by the humidity.

I open it, curious about knowing its content. There’s.. a doll, with buttons as eyes, it has short, bright blue, hair, pale skin and it’s wearing a…a yellow raincoat, it looks strangely familiar…ù

Mom…

In the living room, there’s this picture. She is with the grands, she was young at the time, and they were posing in front of this house, and she was wearing the same raincoat…

I feel chill along my spine…well, right, mom loves to sew, so, maybe she made this doll backtime. That’s it. Anyway, I decide to keep it in my room, in my closet. I’ll keep searching for the door tomorrow.

After two hours, my parents return home, we have dinner and then straight to bed. I try to fall asleep, however, a continuous sensation of being observed keeps me awake, I turn towards the window and I see a black shape... with two bright yellow eyes...

I jump, wondering what that thing is, when the moonlight illuminates it showing me that there’s no reason to be scared. It is just a cat, a black cat. I try to look at it with more focus, and I spot, next to the cat... the doll...the same doll I locked in my closet, under the pile of clothes I still have to fold.. what is it doing out there??

The cat, suddenly, does a little nod with its head, ‘telling’ me to follow it... and, like the dumbass I am, I decide to listen to my curiosity instead of my common sense, following it.

Silently, I manage to leave the house, but, not so easily, since as soon as I leave the room, I get caught by my mother, I, astutely, tell her that I am only going to get a glass of water, but I also know that she would go to check, as soon as she will see the kitchen light go off, so I simulated my steps and the creaking of a door and then I  ran out; in my bed, when my mother will go to check, there will be bulge under the covers, and she will go to sleep, not caring that what she will see, won’t be her dear sleeping daughter, but just pillows...

I reach the cat, which is waiting for me under the window of my room. It starts running and I keep following it... it takes me to a hill not too far from the house, where there is a water well, very old and probably unused. Next to it, there is a white napkin, which seems to wrap something... the cat looks right at it as if it wants to tell me "Go and see what's there for you", thus, again putting aside my common sense, I check what this napkin wraps.

Some sewing needles... and... a key...

a key... keys open things, right? Like…the trunks.. the padlocks or... THE DOORS! THEN IT EXISTS! IT EXISTS AND I WILL FIND IT!

I return home full of enthusiasm, hoping that the morning will arrive quickly.

The morning

'Are you sure you don't want to come with us? Aren't you afraid of being alone in this new house for more than 2 hours?'

Dad asks, I admit he seems to exude some concern. But, despite this, I nod with confidence, trying to reassure him and my mother, they are going in town to do some duties or stuff like that.

'I'll come next time! Promise!'

I state, to try to speed up the conversation.

'be careful, Y/n'

Mom seems quite strange, she also seems to be a little worried…but oh well, it will be the influx of memories she is receiving, since she spent her childhood here.

As soon as I make sure my parents' car leaves the driveway, I start to find the door…I wish that black cat would help me with this too...

And, as if it had heard me, here it appears, outside the kitchen window, this time. Wow. That’s incredible.

I let him in, and my cat, Ginger, immediately gets on defensive... actually it has never gotten along with cats similar to it, rather it has always preferred dogs... strange, right?

But even stranger is what I’m just seeing, with one look, the black cat managed to make Ginger calm down... I'm starting to think that this cat isn't just any normal stray cat...

I return to reality seeing the feline pass before my eyes, heading towards the dining room and stopping near a white wall..

'Mh... that’s not helping... surely the door I'm looking for can't be th-... what if...'

What if it's behind this wall?

I look better at that marble wall, and, there was a lighter part, compared to the rest... it means that the cement, in that area, was placed later...

But now a big problem arises... how can I remove this layer of concrete in just a few hours?

I try to think of a plan, when I see the black cat scratching on the white patch... pff poor thing, does it think that can scrape off such a hard material? I turn around for an instant, hearing a meow from Ginger, and then I turn towards the wall... and the door pops up out of nowhere, the door I was looking for so much... the concrete has disappeared into thin air, there isn't even any a speck on the ground...

It is as certain as anything that this cat has some supernatural power... I approach the small door, it's small, but if I bend down, I could fit in just fine. I take the key out of the pocket of my skinny jeans and slowly insert it into the door lock.. with the same slowness, I turn it.. until I hear a click..

Oh yes.. here it is.. it's open. Ginger and the black cat keep watching me. I hesitate for a moment... I turn towards the two cats once again, and the black cat has disappeared... probably its daily task is done. I turn towards the door, take a sigh and open it.

..

...

....

Jimin's POV:

The moon this evening seems to shine more than usual, and the apples on this tree seem to have a different red... a bloody red, my favorite color. Their taste, sweet and a little sour, like the lies that a mother tells her child, for his own good.. sweet…and a little sour…I hear a rustling coming from the hedge next to me, and, after a few seconds, my dearest friend comes out from that pile of green leaves…

'My friend, Black, tell me... what brings you here now? I thought you were busy with that favor I asked you a while ago...'

'Don't worry, Jimin, the time…has come. she's coming here, to you…'

A huge smile appears on my face, there are those who would say it's madness, but in reality, all I feel now is pure joy…

'Thank you, my dear friend, I knew I could count on your help.'

I stated, stroking the shiny, black-as-night fur of my dear friend, my only friend. It didn't even have a name... when I found him wandering around these lands, he seemed to know where he was, and yet, he didn't have a destination, he was there, with that proud look... like every being of his kind.

One day, however, I approached him, we talked for a long time, and what I took from that conversation was that, although he always kept his ears pointed and his muzzle high, there was a veil of loneliness in him, just like me... after my dear mother was taken away from me... by the one my friend thought was her friend... that blue-haired witch.

Luckily, I managed to open what were the blue eyes of my furry friend, making him really see who that was... Coraline... and so, in exchange for my friendship, I asked him for a favor...

When I learned of my mother's death, everything I thought about and still thinking about, It’s, actually, I wouldn't even call it revenge.. I just want to settle the score with her…by taking away from her…what she cares about the most.

I look into the garden pond, and I see her reflection, what will lead to Coraline's eternal suffering..

Her dear daughter. Y/n Lovet.

…

…

…

Y/n's Pov:

I can't believe my eyes...so does it really exist? In front of me, stands what appears to be a long distorted tunnel…

I wonder…what's at the end of it.

I start to walk, when suddenly I hear the voices of my parents, intent on taking out of the car the bags full of gifts and souvenirs to bring to the rest of the family…I panic for a moment... I immediately close the door and hide the key in my pocket again.

I look around, hoping to find something that can cover the hole in the wall where the door is, but when I turn towards it, I see that... the layer of concrete has returned to hide it. Maybe I'm going crazy? Until recently, there was only a hole in the wall and not even a bit of dust on the ground, but now everything is back to how it was before...

A small smile of disbelief escapes me at the thought...

I run towards the front door, intent on helping my parents with all the envelopes.

'How are you dear?? You look a bit strange?'

'Have you done anything in our absence?'

My parents continue to observe me... perhaps because I'm still a little shaken by the latest events. But now... I simply think, or rather, I ask myself, why did my parents want to keep that world hidden from me?

Maybe they really don't know anything about it and the fact that it actually exists is just a perfect coincidence.

Pff… I can believe in anything, but coincidences, I really don't.

I spend the day ruminating on what happened this morning... and I just hope that night falls soon so I can finally discover what lies beyond the tunnel.

At dusk, my parents invite me for a walk near the house and, near an apple tree, I see a puddle, which is strange. It has never rained in those days. I look out to observe my reflection, but my face resting on the water, it's almost disturbing... I jump, noticing that instead of my eyes I seem to have... buttons?

I walk away, running towards my parents, scared, to the point of not being able to tell what I saw. Back in the house, I immediately run towards the mirror in my room, and my reflection seems to have returned to normal... it must have been an oversight...

Once night falls, I make sure that my parents are totally immersed in their dreams, and I head towards the wall where the door is located... but here a problem arises... without the black cat... how can I scratch off the cement?

Hmm… maybe if I close my eyes and wish to see the door... okay, it probably won't work, but there's no harm in trying.. I close my eyes, count to 13, open my eyes, and to my surprise, there it is, the little door. I open the door again, and there it is again the dark blue tunnel, I give myself courage and cross it, slowly. I find myself in front of another small door and I slowly move it, not too much... Who knows, there might be something behind it...

I lean forward a little to observe, but what I see leaves me quite disappointed… It is the same room I left from, my living room, there is nothing different...It must have all been a joke, probably.

I enter the room, close the door, and decide to go back to bed, but on my way to the stairs, I spot the black cat outside the window beckoning me to follow him again and so I do.

Following the mysterious feline, I realize that the garden is different from usual... In front of us, then, stands an arch that leads towards a small lake, over which a bridge has been built... I've never seen it...

Around the lake, there are apple trees planted, already ripe, which is strange… I know that apples ripen during autumn, not in summer…

The cat climbs onto the bridge, jumping onto the ledge of this, where, there is a figure, leaning against it, seems a male figure, a long-limbed, elegant male figure...

Will it be a neighbor? At this time of night?

I approach slowly...

“Hello…Y/N, it's nice to meet you.”

I stop walking.

“h-how do you know my name?”

"I'm the son of a dear friend of your parents, it has sense that I know you."

So, he knows my parents... This reassures me. I lean forward to observe him, and when he turns, I am taken aback. He has... Buttons instead of eyes...Out of surprise, I lean on the handrail of the bridge, which however breaks.

I close my eyes to prepare for the impact but, before I end up in the water, I feel something pull me up and hold me. I open my eyes, and I see that face with delicate features, but almost ruined, by those gadgets on his eyes, so close to mine.

Where am I?

Am I really at home?

Regaining my balance, I move slightly...

"I know what you're thinking…These aren't exactly nice to look at, are they?"

She says pointing to the buttons.

I observe him, without responding, confused but also a little struck by compassion…

"don't feel bad, I was born like this…"

My confusion increases. And the boy probably understands this.

"You know you're not in your world right?.. This is very similar to yours but more beautiful.. Don't you think?"

He turns, observing the moon, which shone a slightly more different silver, from our real satellite.. Indeed, looking around, it feels better here.

"It means that my parents knew about this world.."

I think out loud. The boy turns to me and nods.

"Indeed.. But after my mother's death, they denied its existence."

I can hardly believe that my parents have denied this place... Why did they speak so badly about it? Why did they always tell me not to come here?

"but.. now you're here! Right? Will you keep me company for a bit, at least until dawn?"

The boy looks at me, smiling softly.

In the end.. I want to know more about this place, so I nod and smile back.

The boy takes me for a walk in this immense garden, full of flowers and sculptures made with hedges.

There is a certain musicality in the air.

"shall we Dance?"

I laugh

"I don't know how to dance, unfortunately, I would just make a fool of myself"

"it means that I will be the one to teach you"

I've always been a little reluctant when it comes to guys, I've already told you about my concept of loneliness, right?

Yet, with him it's different, he puts his hand around my hip, the one on which I think there is still the bruise from the other day, and his other hand delicately takes mine, we start dancing, I think it's a waltz or something like that. I'm just following his movements, looking into his eyes, or should I say, buttons.

"You like being alone too, don't you?"

I nod, lowering my gaze slightly.

"When you are alone, you feel better, sometimes, you have time to think and to improve yourself"

I keep listening to him in silence, while we keep dancing, I knew that I was not the only one who felt good alone, but it needed me to visit a parallel world to find that someone...

Thinking that I'm not that wrong or that strange makes me smile.

"Now that I think about it, you know my name, but I don't know yours.."

I say, lifting my head slightly.

"My name is Jimin, mi lady."

"Now are you even calling me mi lady?"

I laugh.

"you said you couldn't dance, yet you seem to have always been doing it, you look like a princess, a Lady"

He winks at me.

Generally, I hate this kind of attention, he's shamelessly flirting... And, unlike usual, I like it.

This boy, Jimin, if I'm not mistaken, has something special, it must be that he comes from this world..

We dance almost all night.

The first lights of dawn are already starting to appear...

'I should go.. '

'wait a little longer, please'

I do so, deciding to stay some more time with him, continuing to look at the sun which was now emerging on the horizon.

'Will you come visit me again?'

I spent one of the most beautiful nights of my life, how could I not come back here, I found a person who understands me… A special person. I nod but then I realize that it's really time to go before my parents find me. I immediately run away to where the little door is and I quickly run to my bed, a few minutes later I hear my mother come through the door… I take a sigh, just in time…

Jimin's POV

'she took the bait like a fish on a hook eh eh'

'you're absolutely right, Black… It was easier than I thought, I imagined Coraline's daughter to be tougher'

I say playing with a hair I pulled out of Y/N’s head.

'but she's cute, come on…'

'don't tell me you really meant those things you said to her?'

I turn to Black, nodding.

'it's a shame that she has to end up bad, but for now, I'll have fun with her' I smirk.

Let's see what she is doing now…

I lean towards the pond to see the image of Y/N, she is changing... Which makes me blush a lot…and that doesn’t suit me at all.

I make the image disappear from the pond and start to go back into the house…

'You have taken the color of your beloved apples'

Black tells me, laughing..

'shout up, you silly cat'

Y/N's pov

The days pass, Jimin and I now see each other every single evening, we dance the waltz and then we stop to watch the sunrise. He knows everything about me, and I know everything about him, or almost, sometimes he's so mysterious. He also gave me a pair of needle-shaped earrings. They are original, which is why I like them a lot. I would like to tell my parents about him, but Jimin told me several times not to do so, to avoid a possible "strange" reaction on their part. Maybe seeing Jimin would have reminded them of a dear friend, and this would have saddened them. So we decided to keep this "friendship" in secret, even though I can't understand whether he is really in love with me or not.

One evening

While having dinner with my parents, I notice that something is  bothering them. I look at them with confusion trying to understand what they were thinking. At a certain point, mom turns to me.

'you've been weird for a while..'

My confused expression deepens.

'You know.. We found this in your room..'

My mother shows me the doll I found that week before, before I discovered the door. I try to find an excuse...

'oh.. That? Ah yes, I found it just yesterday, upstairs haha you sewed it, right?'

'Y/N… We burned this doll'

My eyes widen. What do they mean they burned the doll? So.. Who recreated it..

'Those earrings'

I hear my father whisper that phrase, almost scared. I check my earlobes, and I notice that it's true, this time I forgot to remove my earrings..

'Wait.. I can explain-'

''Y/N! I told you not to look for the door!'

'You told me it didn't exist. And then... Even if it existed... What would be wrong with that? You told me so many of those lies, about monstrous creatures, just because they have buttons instead of eyes, what makes you think those creatures are really wrong??'

' Y/N.. Tell me where the door is.'

'never.'

'Right now!'

Mom definitely has no good intentions, I don't understand her, Jimin is so good in the end, he understands me, and I'm sure his mother was like that too..

'You had a friend in that place. And you abandoned her son out of selfishness.'

My parents look shocked.

'Who told you this? Who is this friend-... oh no.. '

Mom leans towards me, probably to assert me. I move away and run towards the door, which is open.  Arrived in the other dimension, I turn and see the small walled-up door..

I turn around to find Jimin right behind me..

'What's going on, princess?'

I hug him. Scared and confused more than ever.

'My parents saw these'

Pointing to the earrings.

I see Jimin's face darken.

'I think I can imagine the rest..'

He almost seems to be... smiling.

At a certain point, she hugs me, squeezing me... I can hardly breathe.

'J-Jimin.. I can't breathe'

'Now.. you are with me, I will protect you..'

Black's pov

I think Jimin's plan is failing miserably.. I saw how he looks at that girl and he didn't seem like he was faking it.. Well, in the end he isn't that different from humans. I lie down on the branch of my favorite tree, but I can't fall asleep, I feel watched.

'Jimin was always wrong'

I turn, noticing Ginger, Y/n's cat.

'Oh then you talk.. I thought you were mute..'

'Nice...come on, let's go save Y/N'

I ignore her, poor naive kitten. She is naive but stubborn to the point that she makes me fall from my beloved branch. Luckily, we cats always land on our paws.

'Girl, have you lost your mind?'

I look at her, sitting proudly on the spot from where I fell.

'And yet you let yourself be deceived by that demon..Jimin is not your friend. He just wants to avenge his mother, the woman who killed three innocent children and who also wanted to kill Y/N's mother. You yourself helped Coraline..'

'Tsk.. yet Coraline left, never thinking of taking me with her.. Jimin instead welcomed me and was always by my side'

Ginger comes down from the tree and stands right in front of me.

'When he kills Y/n, you will no longer exist for him'

The coldness with which she said that sentence made my blood run cold. Yet I almost feel like she's telling the truth. Now that I think about it... Jimin always behaved strangely..I sigh…feeling betrayed for the umpteenth time.

'Let's go save your friend'

Ginger widens her eyes in surprise, but I can see a minimum of joy in those green bulbs. As fast as we can, we arrive in the other world... just in time....

Jimin's Pov

How beautiful. Thanks to Coraline and that owl Wybie, this innocent little fish ended up in my net. I continue to hold Y/n, not too much to kill her.. you know.. I changed the plan.. I want to keep her here with me, forever. She will be my queen, but to become one.. these beautiful eyes will have to be replaced.. I caress the girl's cheeks..

'Do you want to become my queen?..'

I say approaching her..

The moonlight is illuminating us, as if we were under a spotlight.

Y/n's pov

Jimin's proposal appeals to me a lot... I almost feel as if something is hypnotizing me…Something pleasant. I close my eyes, continuing to look at him, to look at those plump, pink and soft lips. I feel his breath approaching my face, and something touch my needle-shaped earring.. But before that distance between us could disappear... something awakens me from that trans-state...

Jimin's Pov

'Let that girl go right now'

Just as I'm about to sew up my princess's eyes, I am interrupted by a rather irritating voice. I turn around, furious, seeing Black....and another cat..

'What's the matter, my friend, have you also met your soulmate and has love just made you crazy? Come on let me do what I have to do..and go for a walk with your kitten..'

'You..kind of profiteering devil'

The two cats are preparing to jump on me..But Y/n shields me.. and the claws of the two cats.. hit her eyes.... I feel the pain, so much so that I feel my heart shatter.

For me... she gave up her beautiful eyes... for me... without even my hypnosis..

'Leave him alone.'

The girl shouts.

'He's innocent, why are you mad at him, all of you, he's alone... and he doesn't deserve it. He is misunderstood, and he just needs someone who understands him...please...get out of here and leave us alone. You two, and my parents...and everyone else.'

After saying this, I see Y/n collapse on the ground, holding her hands over her face, bleeding. The two cats seem mortified , especially the ginger one…it almost seems to cry.. then, at the bottom of the garden, right at the entrance, I hear sobs..

They are Coraline and Wybe.

I don't know how they got in, but it's like I can't move…

I crawl towards Y/n and rest my head on her shoulder while I wrap my arms around her waist...Below us there was now a blur, with the color of the apples from that tree right in front of us.

'Please, Jimin, save her..'

I hear Coraline's voice, broken..

'I'll save her, but she'll have to stay here with me... I'll have to sew her the buttons... it's the only way to keep her alive.'

Coraline and Wybe, through tears, nod..

I was a fool.. I believed from the beginning that they were the bad guys.. and yet.. the sacrifice of Y/n, of my Y/n, and the fact that her parents, after all, asked for help from me.. it makes me understand.. that maybe I did everything wrong in my life.. that I shouldn't have hung on to revenge, that it would have been better to forgive.. and maybe now Y/n would still have her beautiful eyes..

While I'm sewing on her buttons, a tear falls... yes... because under my buttons, I have eyes... it was the one I thought was my mother who sewed them on for me.. as soon as I finish, I take Y/n and hold her to me, still sleeping..

'You will be fine now...sorry, my princess'

I whisper to her.

Then my gaze turns towards her parents and the two cats, destroyed by their mistake.

'She's alive, she's healthy, she'll even be able to see again. But she will have to keep these forever..To apologize...I will create a bigger door in that house, and you can come here to see her whenever you want...in the end, this world is the same as yours. Wherever you go, that door will follow you so that you will always be able to see it.'

The couple looks at me in amazement…I don't blame them at all. I stand up, lifting Y/n bridal style.

'Y/n's right.. you're different'

'Thank you very much and take care of her, always..'

I turn towards them, bowing my head in thanks. In reality, I wasn't that different, it was Y/n, who opened my eyes.

Two days later

Y/n's pov

I wake up from what seemed to be an eternal sleep... I look around, and getting up, I remember what happened...I jump up to look at myself in the mirror and...yes...now I have buttons where my eyes should be.

'I'm sorry, princess. It was the only way to save you'

I turn towards the voice, it was Jimin, behind him were my parents, along with Ginger and Black. I give them a smile.

'Modestly...they suit me'

I laugh and then jump on the boy.

'Am I wrong or before anyone interrupted us, we were doing something very serious'

I say literally closing the door in my parents' faces.

And then I kiss him..

I've wanted to do this for a long time, and it's cooler than I thought. Especially because now I can be with him... in the world that perhaps suits me better.

[7ndipity]

Happy Halloween!

Wanted to share this year's pumpkin with you all, I'm so happy with how it turned out!

[crystalsnow95z]

Halloween is my favorite holiday, so I decided to write a second story based on the season.

It's a whump this time. It's haunted a house because i simply adore them.

Tw: panic attack, fainting and the usual warnings for gore.

"Please, please tell me that's not where we are going!" Hoseok's eyes dilated when he saw the three story building in front of them, his voice coming out in a squeak. He had a feeling the Run BTS episode was going to be spooky because it was only days away from Halloween, and he was right..

"Oh wow! It's huge! Namjoonie hyung what does is it say? Asl..?" Jungkook points to the letters on the front.

"[Asylum..?]" Namjoon reads the word in English looks it up on his phone, then translates it to korean. "The place is called Alysa asylum."

The car pulls up to the building next to the other staff car with the other members. Yoongi was holding onto Jin's hand, looking up at the massive building. "It's huge.."

Taehyung was on his phone, seeing what he could discover about the massive building in front of them. "It says it used to be a real one, but when it got shut down it got turned into a haunted house a few years ago.."

"A real one?" Hoseok swallows nervously, trying to not look up at the giant brick building in front of him.

"Hello everyone! Welcome to Alysa asylum!" A teenager greets them, but the boys didn't recognize him as one of their staff members. "My name is David and I'm one of the staff here. It's an honor to have you here."

"1,2,3.." Namjoon counts, and the members do their greeting, bowing to David.

"I was really surprised when my boss said we were going to be opening an hour early because we had special guests coming.. I've been listening to you guys since I was 13 years old.."

"Thank you for supporting us." Jungkook smiles.

"It really means a lot." Jimin bows.

"I'm honored to meet you too." Taehyung adds in, bowing with Jimin.

"Ah..Let's get right to business.." David blushes, feeling embarrassed. "We're a little short on time. This haunted house usually takes 30 minutes on average to get all the way through. You get 4 flags to put on your body, but the location must be within reason. The actors will try to remove them from you while you make your way through the house. If you have at least one of your flags left by the end of the house, you'll get a refund usually.. but for this game each flag you have when you return will be a free ticket for a fan."

"What happens if you lose all your flags?" Hoseok asks in a small voice. "Do they steal you away?" His eyes dilated in fear at the thought of being dragged out of the building away from his members.

"Oh, nothing like that. Don't worry. You'll still be able to continue through it with the others, and they'll most likely lose interest in trying to scare you. They are just interested in removing the flags. Usually, once you lose all your flags, you protect people who still have some." David explained to the group.

Hoseok let go of the breath he wasn't even aware he was holding, jumping with a small sound when he felt something touch him.

"Hyung it was just me. I'm sorry." Jungkook quickly pulls away from Hoseok with a frown. He wanted to comfort him by putting his arm around him, but it had the opposite effect.

"Jaykay, I'm sorry. It's okay." Hoseok hugs him from behind. "It's not your fault I'm jumpy. I just don't like scary things."

"I'm scared too. It's okay to be scared." Yoongi admits, reaching for his hand. "We'll all stay together. It'll be fine."

Hoseok takes it,feeling the cold sweat forming in the palm of Yoongi's hand. "Yeah, it'll be fine." He echos, taking a deep breath. "Let's go before I change my mind.."

Taehyung helps Jungkook put a flag close to the nape of his neck, his longer hair making only a couple inches poke through. "There. That's the last flag. Everyone else has theirs, right?"

"Yeah, I'm all set." Jimin says, looking at the other members. "Namjoon-ah you're missing a flag.."

"Huh?" He looks around, finding it on the floor, bending to pick it up."Ah, here it is. It must've been the one I tried getting on my back."

"I'll get it for you." Jimin says taking it from him and putting it on the center of his back, making sure it stays on by adding another piece of tape. "Is that good?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks Jiminah." Namjoon says checking on everyone. "Alright, they said we can go in whenever we are ready.."

Yoongi reaches for Hoseok's hand. "You sure you can do this?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can do this. It's for army.." Hoseok says with determination, taking a deep breath to push down his fears that tightened in his belly. "Just don't let go. Okay?"

"I won't." Yoongi swears, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Then I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Hoseok swallowed hard, watching Namjoon open the door. "Let's do this.."

The first room had a flashing strobe light, making it hard to make out what was in the room. Jin grabs onto Namjoons arm, looking around the room nervously.

"I don't see anything except fake spiders and fake blood.." Jin states, but he spoke to soon.

A woman with blonde hair wrapped in fake cobwebs that blended in with all the fake webs covering the room starts screaming as soon as they get close to her. "[HELP! HELP THEYRE GOING TO EAT ME!]" She says in a shrill voice speaking in English, a large robotic spider moving towards her.

Hoseok,Jin and Jimin all scream at the sudden new voice. Yoongi's eyes widen, clutching Hoseok's hand to his chest, the scream caught in his throat.

Jin puts his hand over his heart, frozen in place as she continues to scream for help. Jungkook pulls on his hand to get him moving again.

"Come on Jinnie-hyung, it's okay.." Jungkook jumped at the sudden sound, but it didn't scare him like the other members

Jimin clings to Taehyung's arm. "That scared me.. I thought my heart was gonna jump out of my chest." He takes a breath to try to calm his breathing.

"It's okay..I got you." Taehyung gave his hand a squeeze. "It's not real.."

Hoseok leaves first,pulling on Yoongi to try to escape, Jin following with Jungkook in tow, quickly avoiding the woman trying to grab at the flags.

"[So sorry. Gotta go.]" Taehyung leaves pulling Jimin with him, holding tightly so his clammy hand doesn't slip away. Jimin quickly grabs Namjoon’s hand to be sure he doesn't get left behind.

J-hope was disoriented in the next room, his heart throbbing in his chest already. The room was filled with fog, making him unable to know what he was into. "I don't want to be in front.." His voice comes out three octaves higher than usual, pushing Jungkook in front.

Namjoon rushes to Hoseok, standing close to him. "Hey.. hey its okay.. it's just actors. Take a deep breath.."

Hoseok takes a deep breath, but the moment he starts to feel a little better, he hears the sound of a chain saw, a masked man running towards them. He buries his face in Jungkook's shoulder, a high-pitched whine coming from him. He wanted to run, but his legs were frozen in place, knees locking in place, making his head spin.

Something is coming.. move...please move...

A small hoard of zombies enter from the rooms o on either side of the corridor, targeting the members going after the flags that glowed under the black light.

"[Run! Run don't let them get you!]" The man with the chainsaw calls out, cutting down one of the zombies, the fake saw touching it made the fake blood packets on the zombie burst, the fake blood dripping down as the zombie falls.

Jin takes off running, screaming as fright takes over, trying to escape the situation, his heart racing painfully in his chest. He keeps a firm grip on Namjoon’s hand, forcing him to flee with him.

"Hyung please, you're gonna make me fall!" Namjoon stumbles over his own feet. "Wait for the others!" He looked back to see if the others were following, only Taehyung running to catch up, quickly grabbing Namjoon's hand. "The zombies are blocking the others from following.."

"No, don't touch him!" Jungkook protects Hoseok from a female zombie who tries touching him, after the flag on his side,pushing the timid rapper away from her, in-between Yoongi and Jimin.

With the target moving, she targets Jungkook instead, pretending to bite his shoulder as she reaches for the flag on his chest. Jungkook quickly steps back to avoid her, tripping over Jimin’s foot, tumbling into him.

"Woah, I got you."Jimin puts his hands firmly on his shoulders, jumping when he hears Jungkook let out a small whimper. "What's wrong?"

"My foot bent weirdly, but I'm okay.. we have to get to the stairs.. we lost half the team.." Jungkook pulls Jimin and Hoseok ,ignoring the pain in his ankle.

Hoseok keeps his hand firmly clamped around Yoongi's wrist,pulling the older rapper with him. His breath came out in quick gasps, feeling light-headed as the mankae pulled him through to the next floor, leading them into a maze.

The sound of Jin's screaming somewhere in the maze only made Hoseok's blood run cold, terrified of what could be hidden within the walls, his stomach churning with anxiety. The rooms inside had different gruesome scenes but none of the actors left past the doorway, but he didn’t trust them, trying to look in every direction at once.The moment i turn away from them they'll chase me..

"Are you okay, Hoba? You're trembling.." Yoongi slowly wraps his arm around Hoseok, hugging him from behind. "It's okay.. Hyungie is with you. Let's just get out of this together."

Hoseok could feel Yoongi's heart pounding against his back. Yoongi is scared, too.. I'm slowing us down.. I need to pull myself together.. because I froze up, we got separated from the others..

"I'm..I'm sorry..it's my fault.." Hoseok's voice quivered, unshed tears shining on his lashes. His stomach twisted with both fear and remorse.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We'll catch up with the others. It's not your fault you're scared. I'm scared, too. I couldn't get my legs to move to follow Seokjinie-hyung, Taehyungie, or Namjoon-ah, either. It's no big deal." Yoongi admits, trying to stay strong for the younger members.

Even though Jimin made no complaints about being scared, he could see the quick rise and fall of his chest as he took deep breaths to try to calm his nerves and Jungkook's eyes were darting around the rooms, trying to follow the built in maze walls to find the way out without finding a dead end.

"Ah Sh*t!" Jimin suddenly screams when a hand with Freddy Kruger's claw pops out from the painting of him grabbing a flag from his chest. Jimin covered where the hand touched, feeling his heart hammering against his palm, eyes dilated.

The sound of Jimin's screaming frightened Hoseok back to moving, eyes widening when he saw that they were surrounded by paintings and any of them could have a person hidden behind them.

The sound of several people laughing like they were insane made Hoseok start sprinting, trying to escape the sensory overload,swearing the whole way. The sweat made his hand slip away from Yoongi's, but when he saw a pale hand reaching for him from a painting, making him scream, going in a full-on run.

"Hyung, please, I can't keep up.." Jungkook winces, a soft moan escaping his lips when he steps hard on his injured ankle, unable to quickly turn corners, using thr wall to help support his weight, pushing on it while they ran. "It hurts.. I can't run hyung.." he tries to pull away from him, but Hoseok quickly grabs his wrist when he feels Jungkook pull away.

Hoseok didn't hear Jungkook's pleads over the sound of laughing, his nerves completely shot. All he was focused on was escaping the sound, squealing every single time a hand popped out of a painting.

"Don't pull Jungkook like that!"Yoongi calls to him,screaming when he feels something grab onto his elbow, removing the flag connected to it. "Hoba! Jungkook-ah! Don't leave us behind!" His voice comes out as a whine, grabbing Jimin's hand and pulling him to catch up.

Hoseok doesn't stop until he finds his way out, letting out wheezing coughs as he tries to catch his breath. He tries to lean against Jungkook but he loses his balance, Yoongi running to put his hand on the center of Jungkook's back to keep him from falling.

"Agh!" Jungkook lets a yelp of surprise, relaxing when he sees it was just Yoongi. "Aiish, you scared me.."

"Sorry.. Are you okay? You were limping.. did you get hurt?" Yoongi took the opportunity between rooms to look over the maknae, bending down to look at his ankle.

"Oh,it's fine, really. I think I bruised the bone when Hobi-hyung tripped over me." Jungkook forced himself to put pressure on it, giving him a forced smile as the pain shot up his ankle. "I can continue. Let's go find the others." Jungkook opens the door, going up the stairs.

"Here, lean on me.. don't put any more pressure on it.." Jimin wrapped Jungkook's arm around him, supporting his injured side as they made their way up the steps.

Hoseok's stomach wormed with guilt, nausea washing over him, grabbing onto Yoongi's hand. "I'm sorry Jaykay.. I didn't mean to hurt you.."

"It's not your fault. I was the one who tripped over you. Are you okay, Hyung? You're still shaking.." Jungkook tried switching the attention away from him to Hobi.

"You do look pale.. is this too much for you? You could take-" Yoongi's voice is cut off by the sound of the other group screaming.

"We have to get to them!" Jungkook says, ignoring his pain to rush to the others. It was hard to scare Namjoon and he's never heard him sound so scared. He had to be sure the others were okay, even if it was just a haunted house. What if they really got hurt in this old place? What if the floor gave in?

"Jungkook-Ah be careful! Your ankle!" Jimin yells, following after him. "I know you're worried, I am too, but you have to be careful!"

"W-what made them..them..all scream lik..like that?" Hoseok whispered the words, his voice trembling. The only thing that kept him moving forward was that Yoongi followed the younger members, and he couldn't imagine being alone in this place.

Hoseok clung to Yoongi's arm, his breath coming out in short whimpers. His vision was blurred, feeling his head swirling, struggling to keep on his feet. I feel so dizzy..but I don't want to be left behind..

"Yoongi..Yoon.i..I.." Hoseok tried to tell Yoongi how he felt,but he couldn't get the words out, gasping for breath. "I d.d..nt..w..ll.."

"Hoba,Hoba, you gotta breathe.. I can't understand what you're saying. Take deep breaths, okay?" Yoongi stops trying to keep up with the younger members, focusing on Hoseok. With the staircase only lit with black lights he couldn't tell if it was the lights or the fear that made Hobi's skin look ghostly white.

Hoseok tries to take a deep breath, but the echo of someone screaming somewhere in the building makes him tense up. "Was..was th..th.."

"Sh..Hoseok-ah! Look at me. Focus on me." Yoongi tilted Hoseok's chin to force him to look into his eyes, thankful for the dim lighting that hid bashful blushing. "Don't worry about whatever is going on there. You're going to pass out if you don't breathe.."

Hoseok takes a few deep,shaky breaths, clutching Yoongi's hands as if his life depended on it. He leans on Yoongi, keeping his eyes closed as he waits for the dizziness to pass.

Yoongi rubs his thumbs across Hoseok's knuckles, feeling his hands trembling underneath his fingertips. I have to get him out of here. This place is too much for him to handle..

"Hyung is everything okay?" Jungkook's voice from the top of the steps startles them both. The two younger members have just been waiting for them to follow before opening the door to the next floor.

"I don't think Hoba can continue.." Yoongi says looking at the rapper with concern, then back to Jungkook who was putting all his weight on one side.

"And Jungkook I don't think you should continue on that ankle.." Jimin adds in, seeing Jungkook balanced on one foot.

"No I'm fine, I can finish through. There's only one more floor. Please hyung? I want to see what scared the others.." Jungkooks eyes sparkled with curiosity. If they were hurt they would've shut down the attraction.

"There's..There's just one more floor..one more.. I can..I'm fine.. I'm fine.." Hoseok stifles a cough, his voice feeling hoarse from screaming. "It's fine we can keep going."

"Are you sure?" Jimin asks, looking between the two with worry. "Do you want me to carry you Jungkook-ah?"

"I don't think you can carry me for that long." Jungkook teases. "No I'm fine. Just no running."

Hoseok took another deep breath, opening the door to the next floor, being welcomed to a nearly pitch black room,the only source of light being the glow in the dark costumes of the actors coming out of the rooms and a glowing at the end of the hall he couldn’t make out at a distance

Glowing skeletons, ghosts, witch doctors, and clowns run towards them. Hoseok saw the flags on their bodies glow in the dark as well, knowing as long as they saw those they'd chase them until they made it to the exit or until no one had any flags left.

Hoseok took off running as soon as he saw them coming towards him, screaming until he couldn't anymore. He ran blindly through the dark, Yoongi following behind him.

Yoongi felt someone grab him, screaming in surprise at the sudden grab of a glowing skeleton, them ripping off the blue flag from his stomach.

"Hobi-hyung look out!" Jimin calls out when he sees someone get close to Hoseok

Hoseok felt his heart skip a beat looking behind him in a silent scream trying to call for his brothers. A woman in a glowing white dress grabbed him, by the shoulder, ripping off one of the flags from his body.

"[Woah are you okay?]" The woman felt Hoseok falling under her grip. "[Did you slip?]"

Hoseok doesn't reply, his heart working overtime, the terror making his breath come out in quick gasps,hyperventilating. His legs turned to jello as vertigo took over, falling forward into the woman.

"[Everyone stop!]" The woman yells,trying to gently lower Hoseok to the floor safely but unable to handle his weight."[Someone's fainted! Get the lights!]"

Hoseok felt someone stroking his hair, his eyes fluttering open to see who was touching him. He finds Yoongi's worried eyes staring back down at him. "Hoba.." he sighs in relief when he sees Hoseok staring back at him.

"Wh.. what happened?" Hoseok whispers hoarsely.

"You really scared me, Hoba.. all I could understand is that they said for everyone to stop and when I looked to see why you were on the ground." Yoongi hugged Hoseok to his chest. "Are you hurt anywhere? That woman said she lowered you down as gently as she could, but you still hit the floor.."

"I got a bit of a headache, and my throat hurts,but i'm okay." Hoseok reassures them with a hoarse whisper.

"Oh, thank goodness.. when I heard them scrambling around the room to turn on the lights and saw you laying in Yoongi-hyung's lap, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest." Jimin sighs in relief.

"You should still get looked over just in case.. I feel awful that I wasn't there to help.." Jin admits, looking down at his hands.

"Ah.. what about Jungkook-ah?" Hoseok asks, looking for the mankae, noticing the wrap around his ankle. "Is it fractured?"

"I'm okay. I just twisted my ankle a bit.. I'll be out of practice for a few weeks, but it'll heal up fully." Jungkook wiggles his foot a bit. "It doesn't hurt unless I walk on it or bend it too far."

"That's good.. I'm so sorry, Jungkook-ah.." Hoseok gets to his feet, going over to Jungkook to hug him. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you.."

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who tripped over you." Jungkook squeezes him tightly. "I know you only wanted to continue through because of me. I'm sorry for being so stubborn.."

"That poor woman feels so bad about what happened.." Namjoon joins in the conversation. "She really scared me too earlier."

"Aiigo.. I probably scared her just as much as she scared me. I should apologize.. is she what made you scream?"

"No. There's two doors at the end of the hallway! One leads to a trap door. We fell down to the bottom floor where there's this landing mat. I thought the floor actually broke." Namjoon explains in a pout,making Hoseok giggle.

"It was terrifying! I thought I was gonna die.." Taehyung whines, squeezing Jimin's hand.

"That sounds amazing." Jungkook says eyes rounded with excitement. "I want to try again."

"You're insane." Jimin states, his stomach dropping at the thought of the floor giving in out of no where."That place was terrifying.."

"Remind me never to go there ever again.." Hoseok shudders at the thought.

"Don't worry, Taehyungie, joon-ah and Jungkookie can go, we can go find something else to do." Yoongi reassures him. "You don't have to ever go there again."

[taechnological]

if bts were to bring back their halloween dance practice vidoes again, what would u guys want them to dress up as and on what song?

[kiestrokes]

Will Scream for Soju | SFW

👻 You managed to trick all seven members into the local horror corn maze. It might cost you though, will it be your life or your wallet?

🧟‍♀️ Read it Here

© COPYRIGHT 2022 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[carpioassists]

I need help finding a fic! It’s a K-pop fanfic (I think either Ateez or BTS) that’s a Halloween AU (loosely follows the plot of Us). Everyone’s doppelgängers are running around trying to kill their counterparts so YN and her boyfriend barricade themselves in their home. When boyfriend goes to make a grocery run, he comes back acting different and YN starts getting suspicious. Please help, it’s been driving me crazy for days.

[monismochi]

It's Halloween so ofc I'm watching jihope die by zombies and yoonjin become zombies

They are ridiculous 💀💀💀😂😂

[by-clovercrown]

Shamelessly plugging my BTS Halloween fic series where the boys are classic monsters in some kind of cult