#hisunshiine writings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hisunshiine · 1 year ago

Text

Yall have no idea how good this story is for this haunted month of october. I absolutely love this story, it's so perfectly set up and the imagery is amazing!!! not gonna lie, if yoongi came to me like this, i honestly wouldn't even care, and this is from someone who is sometimes afraid of the dark...so all my girlies afraid of the dark, this one is for you! hehehe Please read Leah's amazing fic, you will not regret it!

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

751 notes · View notes

mrsparkjimin18 · 3 months ago

Text

of crowns and daggers: the trilogy

🫅 pairing: prince!Jimin x princess!f.Reader

🫅 au/genre: arranged marriage au. royalty, Korea ‘Three Kingdoms’ research, fluff, very mild smut, angst

🫅 rating: M

🫅 wc: 12502

🫅 warnings: possible major character death, murder plotting, minor character death

summary: Blinding moonlight dances off the dagger’s blade, its cold shimmer piercing through the night as you grip the handle with unwavering resolve. You straddle your new husband, Prince Jimin, the weight of your destiny pressing heavily upon your shoulders. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, sharpening your senses as the blade’s edge hovers dangerously close to his carotid artery. Your father’s voice reverberates in your mind, a relentless mantra: “Cut the head off the snake, and the body dies.”

The moonlight continues its silent vigil, a stark witness to the moment of betrayal that both binds and separates you. The air is thick with the gravity of your actions, the promise of power and vengeance colliding with the personal cost of your duty. This is the moment where love and loyalty are torn apart by destiny’s cruel hand, where every choice shapes the course of the future, and where the echoes of your father’s command hold sway over your heart.

The future unfurls from this point, marked by the weight of a decision that will ripple through the pillars of power and the depths of personal sacrifice. In this fleeting instant, the world holds its breath, and the path ahead is irrevocably altered. But, the lines blur, and suddenly, you're not sure who the real enemy is: the one in your bed or the one guiding your hand.

🫅a/n: This wicked treat was written for @colormepurplex2 as part of the @bangtanwritershq’s Halloween Gifting Writing Event: Sweet Tricks & Wicked Treats!

special thanks to the beta readers: @hisunshiine @lo1k-diamonds @moonleeai, without your help in the end this story would never have been completed!!!

part 1: under the mask of loyalty

part 2: bound by duty, torn by desire

part 3: uncertain fate

#bts fanfction #bts smut #bts angst #bts #angst with a happy ending #jimin x reader #prince #princess #arranged marriage au #jimin fluff #bangtanwhq #bangtanwhq sweet tricks and wicked treats #royalty au

73 notes · View notes

jwirecs · 1 year ago

Text

RECOMMENDED BTS FICS OF SEPTEMBER 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of september! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Head Over Skates || @mercurygguk🔞💔🔄

↳ in which jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you hate his guts and he knows it – that's why he's more than determined to make the most of three weeks of project work. you're convinced it's going to be the end of you.

My Heart Did || @aseaofyoongi🔞💔✅

↳ as soon as senior years comes to an end a lot of teens shed who we were and strive to be flourish into a more polished version of themselves. although, broken hearts aren’t so quick to heal what happens when thoughts reveal all we need to know?

Bad Idea || @back2bluesidex🔞💕✅

↳ Accepting Jungkook's invitation to watch him train topless was such a bad idea.

Don't Tell Me That... You Forgot || @sweetiestokkie💕✅

↳ (short summary that i have come up with since there wasnt one, but oc plans a secret birthday for jk. so we have a lil ol angy jjk.)

Just The Tip? || @joon4eva🔞💕✅

↳ you and namjoon are left alone together for a little too long. or: in your childhood home, you learn just how much is really "just the tip" with namjoon.

My Flower || @i-am-baechu💕✅💯

↳ Men don’t get enough flowers. That’s why whenever it’s Namjoon’s birthday, Y/N always sends flowers (someone please get me a boo so that i can give them flowers.)

Socks || @hisunshiine💕✅

↳ (theres no summary but if we talking about socks, his god dam toe socks lives in my mind rent free and i need it to start paying rent.)

Take Care Of You || @kookslastbutton🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ To keep your fiance from burning out you suggest a weekend getaway to Gapyeong, a charming town about an hour outside Seoul. You've specifically asked him to leave his work equipment at home but like a deep rooted habit, he still brings it with him. You're left with no choice but to find a way to get his attention back.

When I Say Forever || @kookslastbutton🔞💕✅💯

↳ Today’s your wedding day and the slightly shy yet handsome, doe-eyed stranger who chased after you when you dropped your wallet on the street three years ago just happens to be the man standing before you today.

7 Hybrids Moved In With Me || @lillsisamarshmallow💕💔🔄

↳ When the dog hybrid who visits her bakery starts taking extra food Y/N follows it through the alleys to find out why, but what happens when she stumbles upon an empty alley only to find 6 more hybrids and some very familiar pastries?

Entangled || @caelesjjk🔞✅💯

↳ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

Hold Me Together || @casuallyimagining💕🔄💯

↳ a collection of drabbles and headcanons featuring seokjin, yoongi, and namjoon and their significant others.... all of whom have chronic illnesses. each piece can be read on its own or as part of a series.

Leaked || @btsficsandsuch💕💔✅

↳ Req by OP's Followers: Hi ,I love your writing so much . Can I request a ot7 × platonic fem reader where they became friends accidentally and she is also their fan but something happens like a misunderstanding of sorts and she is blamed or something then when the truth comes out they ask for her forgiveness but don't make her forgive them easily also include an accident in between story if you can. Sorry if it's too confusing .have a good day

Stars Around My Scars || @vanteggukie💕💔🔄

↳ people are not always what they seem. you learned that the hard way, when you caught your boyfriend cheating, the night that was supposed to be one of the best ones you ever experienced. but on the same night you also learned that in everything bad, there’s always a little bit of good.

Rainy Days || @rklve🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.

Taste Of His Own Medicine || @btsficsandsuch💔✅💯

↳ You suddenly have to leave to go back to your home country for a few months. Yoongi decides to ignore you so you decide to show him how it feels when he realizes you’re gone.

The Back Up Plan || @btsgotjams27💕✅💯

↳ one drunken night leads to an agreement that if you and jungkook are still single by 30, you'd marry each other. the only thing is jungkook has been doing everything he can to keep you single.

Aphrodite In War || @jungblue🔞💕💔🔄

↳ Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle… Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

Basic Needs || @gggukniverse🔞✅💯

↳ missing sex while being stuck in your apartment with your two roommates during quarantine is being the worst nightmare you could've imagined. fortunately, you're not the only one who's touch starved.

Safety Net || @pradaksj🔞💕💔✅

↳ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together.

Heart-On || @junghelioseok🔞✅💯💯

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is. (this is part of their serendipity series, make note that its not connected. do check out their jjk fic thats part of this series!!)

Territorial || @bonny-kookoo🔞💕🔄

↳ Who would've known that the big bad wolf isn't actually all that bad?

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

#bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts strangers to lovers au #bts hybrid au #bts friends to lovers au #bts roommates au #bts enemies to lovers au #bts established relationship au #bts fic recs #bts recs

275 notes · View notes

yoongis-property · 1 year ago

Text

Wanna read: September

bts & ateez

MASTERLIST

(last update: 09.08.2023)

-ˏˋ BTS ˊˎ-

MIN YOONGI

look down on me like that by @here2bbtstrash

make me by @ppersonna

twirl for me by @gimmethatagustd

Countermelody by @bonvoyagenoona

grey area by @blushoseoks

gwanghae flow by @btssavedmylifeblr

your favourite game by @gimmesumsuga feat. jk

all eyes on me by @here2bbtstrash

drip by @here2bbtstrash

PARK JIMIN

drabble by @eoieopda

no strings by @kpopfanfictrash

him after all by @mercurygguk

cherry flavored by @ppersonna

physical by @ppersonna

JEON JUNGKOOK

never thought by @yoongiphoria

Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates by @ot7always

MCD*CKIN by @jinned

caught me by @jeongi

your favourite game by @gimmesumsuga feat. yg

seven days by @hisunshiine

bangtan scouts by @hisunshiine

candles & flames by @taegularities

-ˏˋ ATEEZ ˊˎ-

PARK SEONGHWA

animal crossing by @kyufessions

Love From Italy by @atinytinaa

paradigm by @yoongiseesawmp3

fuel lines by @chaseatinydream

KIM HONGJOONG

deal by @hongism

Coming Home by @mia-tiny

Horizon by pxedpiper

wildflower by @jumilkies

steeeam! by @feltednettles

JEONG YUNHO

just between friends by @honeyhotteoks feat. mingi

KANG YEOSANG

The Roommate Agreement by @ateezreactionsandscenarios

Longing by @sxcret-garden

CHOI SAN

only one by @just-some-random-blogger

The sound of our tied souls by @jaehunnyy

Soggy Cereal by @mingtinys

Good luck kiss by @ateezlovely

Our Little Star by @littleocean-rose

SONG MINGI

lavender haze by @feltednettles

just between friends by @honeyhotteoks feat. yunho

in each other’s arms by @kimsohn

JUNG WOOYOUNG

Unknown fever. by @a-soft-hornytiny

All 'Cause of a Neck Kiss by @cocobeanncteez

Beans on Toast by @naesarangyunho

CHOI JONGHO

Million Words by @justwritedreams

OT8

into the aurora by @honeyhotteoks

The Buccanneer Queen by @harmonie-writes

136 notes · View notes

hisunshiine · 3 months ago

Text

Alrighty yall, buckle up! Long story short, definitely worth reading! Details and a focus on emotions just pull you right into the story!

Short story long? Spoilers below!

“How could I bother you with something so silly?”

Dear Kim Seokjin, YOU ACCEPTING AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE IS NOT SILLY.

I love where this story starts. I think that picking up right at the problem is one of my favorite things in fiction stories and this one hooks my attention right away. I was on the edge of my seat as she was in the club in the opening scenes, and I could feel the anxiety and I was willing Jin to turn around and see her there. And when he finally did, the story proceeded exactly as I hoped that it would!

Some of the word choices did throw me off, but overall the story is told so beautifully and with so much attention to what the characters are feeling and experiencing that you feel them right along with them! I loved the tie ins to her career/accolades with running, with her saying she felt like life was running away from her and then Jin saying she's always been so fast when she ran from him. Things like that just make me happy to read in books! I love a good full circle.

SX Seoul Series | Jin Entry 💜 Break-line

PAIRING: JinxReader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You’ve been chasing dreams and medals ever since you can remember, with your best friend Seokjin by your side. You thought you had everything you could possibly want — until you find out Jin is keeping a secret from you.

WORD COUNT: 9.9k

GENRE: childhood friends to lovers, confessions, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tiny sensation of claustrophobia, vulnerability, protected sex (grinding, fingering, oral (m receiving), breast play, pleading?)

A.N. Here it is, Jin's Entry and (belated) gift for his military service discharge 💜

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Your heart pumped inside your chest in a familiar effort as you raced down the street. It was already past dinner time, so you didn’t have many obstacles on your way to the subway. This worked out great for you; running was what you did best, and you were fast.

While you ran, masterfully and gracefully jumping and dodging anything in your way and making anyone who saw you drop their chin, you reached for your phone inside your jacket pocket. Despite your current bewilderment and lack of rational thoughts, there was someone you were trying to reach. You could sprint, that was not the problem. You just didn’t know where to go, exactly.

You cursed when Jin didn’t pick up again, your sneakers squeaking on the pavement when you suddenly halted to go down the stairs into the metro station. That gave you a pause to instead call a friend without losing much of your momentum. The phone called and called, and your annoyance built when you had to stop and search for your card. Where the heck was it?

“Hey!”

You were grumbling to yourself and feeling the pockets of your jeans when you replied in the same tone, “Hey! Do you know where Seokjin is? He’s not picking up his phone.”

“Oh, he won’t pay any mind to his phone tonight! He’s at the SX Seoul club to make a big announcement and celebrate!”

You finally found your card and passed it, though your teeth were gritting so hard, they were clicking.

“I couldn’t make it, but— Wait, you don’t know? I’m surprised he didn’t invite you.” You had to close your eyes and hold back from snarking when he added as if thinking out loud, “But he only invited the guys so…”

“Alright, thanks, bye!”

You put your phone in your jacket pocket again and jumped from one foot to the other as you waited impatiently. The sound of the subway echoed its approach in the tunnel, but you weren’t known for your patience. Even the metro was too slow for you.

You got on, but everything unnerved you; the placid people sitting around, the monotone message on the speakers, the sluggish close of the doors. You heaved a breath and held on to the hanging straps as the metallic car finally got into motion.

You were a bit frantic and not exactly eager, rather bursting with energy and touching on anxious to get to the bottom of everything. This was why, when the subway stopped again and the same slow open doors, message, close doors cycle happened before you, you groaned and hid in your forearm. It would take fifteen minutes to cross Seoul and reach Itaewon, and it risked having you lose your mind long before you got there.

But you had no choice, so you closed your eyes. Those were fifteen minutes you had to process your thoughts before confronting Jin about what the heck was going on.

You thought back to the conversation you just had with your mom over dinner.

“So they proposed he’d settle with the daughter of a business partner,” your mother continued casually while you had long frozen with your chopsticks midair, speechless. “She studied abroad and is looking to settle back home, and they know each other. They’re a good match and Jin clearly thinks so too because after years without even wanting to touch the topic, he said yes.”

“He said yes?” You remember yourself repeating breathlessly. “To what?”

“To marrying the girl,” your mom rolled her eyes at your ignorance. “What do you think settling down means?”

“Why would they do that?”

Your tone pitched, and your mom sighed, “Because he’s become thirty. He has a name to carry, he should get married.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! Who are they to impose that on him!”

A fire was starting to breach through the cracks and your mother sighed, “They’re doing their duty. He’s never brought anyone home and refuses to talk about it. They’re pushing him, else he might never settle and have a family.” Your eyes widened by the second, a fury making you drop your chopsticks dramatically on the porcelain plate. Your mom sighed, “Most parents aren’t as liberal as me.”

You rolled your eyes, but then snorted, “No way he’s going through with it.”

“And most children are not as rebellious as you,” your mom’s eyebrows twitched before her expression hardened. “Didn’t I just tell you? He said yes.”

You closed your eyes, tensing your abs to stay perfectly still in a tunnel sharp turn. You knew you were difficult and obstinate, but your mom didn’t usually blame you. She recognized the importance of what you were striving to accomplish, even now that an injury had ended your track and field career as an athlete. You couldn't just stay idle and let the medals you had won at the national and worldwide championships and Olympics define your life. You refused to be shelved and default on former glory. Even if you couldn’t compete anymore, you’d keep on running.

You frowned; maybe that was why it felt like you were out of the loop. You were so busy juggling your work as an elite PE instructor and training the National Athletics team, all while trying to work on your recovery, that you probably missed Jin struggling. Meanwhile, the world didn’t stop, and for the first time, you contemplated if it was running faster than you were.

You almost flew out of the subway; your energy was renewed with the conviction that you needed to understand Jin’s decision-making. None of it sounded like him. You would know, you knew him best. He wouldn’t just say yes to an arranged marriage and if he was in love with someone, you’d be the first person he would tell. So why hadn’t he said anything? Why did you have to find out like this?

You almost fumed when the bouncer refused you entrance because you were wearing sneakers and a tee shirt under your sports jacket.

“There are rules for the dress code,” he said dryly, with a side glance that almost begged the bystanders to take a look at how crazy you were acting.

You grimaced in annoyance, huffing as you reeled in your thoughts. Who cared what you were wearing? You shouldn’t have to conform to superfluous beauty stereotypes to be allowed entrance somewhere. You weren't naked, or dirty, despite how he was looking at you and making you feel.

A deep breath passed your lips as you readied yourself to reason with the guy, but then someone called your name and you turned back.

“Hey!” You matched Kangin’s smile as he approached you near the club’s entrance, “Why aren't you inside yet? Jin is waiting, come on!”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and just smiled and nodded at the bouncer, who shrugged and let you both in.

You didn’t have time to voice your frustration because in seconds you were entering the main room of the club, and you instantly shrunk. The noise was loud enough to make you dizzy, but it was the mass of bodies randomly swaying in multiple directions, touching you by accident, that twisted your stomach.

You almost recoiled into yourself, but Kangin’s arm was still around you. He screamed near your ear, “I saw them, come on!”

You gave him a faint nod, but he didn’t see it; he got in front of you and made way, and you followed closely behind. Your anxiety was twisting your stomach, but you pushed through; you were there for a reason, you had to see Jin!

Suddenly, Kangin spread his arms and rushed forward, and you staggered. You saw him greeting a few guys in that corner of the room, all mostly having drinks in their own circle, and then you saw Jin. He patted Kangin’s shoulder, welcoming him. You were certain he joked about the drink in his hand, right before downing it, and that was when you saw that his cheeks were red. He was wearing a vintage blue coat that seemingly changed colors depending on the lights, and his tousled hair falling over his forehead looked humid. He was laughing and jumping around with his friends, most of whom you knew well, and you faltered.

Jin didn’t want you there. He never invited you to be there tonight, and he never shared with you what was happening. You had to find out from your mom who heard it from his mom, as best friends since childhood they were, because your own childhood friend kept you out of the loop. Because he didn’t want to tell you, and so naturally he didn’t invite you to that party. Because he wanted to celebrate getting married without you.

The anxiety was smothering your aching heart, and you swallowed dryly, rapidly coming to terms with his decision. You shouldn’t be there.

You looked down, the darkness barely letting you see your feet except when the white lights flashed with the booming music. What were you doing? What did any of it matter? You shouldn’t bother him right now; he said yes and had rounded up his friends to celebrate. Your heart was your own problem, and so was the defeat rattling your bones. You never spoke up, and now you had to be quiet forever.

Your eyes stayed low as you turned around to leave, unable to glance up and see a festive mood while it felt as though your heart was smothered. Everything was crushing you — the noise, the crowd, your complacency, your loss, your anxiety — but you had to find your way.

You stepped forward, but you never moved. Someone grabbed your arm, and you turned to face him. Instantly, your heart dropped; his knowledgeable eyes were on yours. Jin could be a goofball with all his friends, making the jokes and the party lively and fun, taking nothing too serious. But with you, it was never resumed to banter or teasing. With you, he could always read into things, say the right word, be there when it mattered.

Despite his red cheeks and glistening eyes, you couldn’t find an ounce of playfulness in his deep brown eyes. His expression was unreadable, and it was because you were looking at his lips that you read your name on them.

He was calling you.

“What? Yeah, sorry,” you shouted above the music a bit uneasily. “I— I heard and I—” Your voice died in your throat and your thoughts vanished from your mind. Your features twitched unsurely as you attempted a smile, “I wanted to talk to you, but this is a bad time so… I’ll go now.”

“Wait.”

His eyes had never abandoned yours, and you couldn’t look away either, “We can talk later.”

“We can talk now,” his voice was surprisingly firm and audible above the noise, prompting you to shake your head with a sorrowful smile and try to pull your arm free.

He didn’t let you go, and you were having trouble facing him again. You were tearing up, “No. No, no, no, it’s okay. You’re celebrating.”

“I’m not.”

You could swear he was holding you tighter, and your eyes found their inevitable path to him again. From up close, just the two of you, it was clear that he didn’t look happy. The seconds ticked by as you more confidently noticed this in the redness of his eyes, the slump of the corners of his mouth, and the way he was holding on to you. He was not happy at all, despite the way he was laughing with his friends before.

You didn’t need him to tell you he needed you; you had been friends since the cradle. He finally broke eye contact with you and traced his hands over your arms and forearms to grab your hands.

You squeezed them, “Why—” Your throat closed again and this time you took a deep breath, willing your anxiety to settle. It was as though everything was falling over your head, but that didn’t matter right now. This wasn’t about you. “Why did you accept to do this?”

He shrugged, eyes still on your hands, “My parents nagged me every day for the last year. I just thought it would be best to put them and me out of this misery.”

Your eyes filled with tears at his defeated expression, but you wanted to make sure, “Do you… love her?”

“No,” he shook his head, glistening eyes jumping back to yours. His lips were curved, but it wasn’t warm; something wrong was pulling his pouty lips. Something like sorrow, or sadness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked with a broken voice, ache spreading through your chest as you squeezed his hands again. You weren’t sure what hurt the most: him not telling you his parents nagged him about this, or that he had said yes to their arranged marriage.

Your lips trembled, but you held on, waiting for his answer, and it came when he pulled you close to hug you. You were pressed flush to his wide chest and despite its unparalleled comfort, you started shaking. Those arms were your safe place, and had been all your life. You wished with your whole heart that you could do the same for him.

“How could I bother you with something so silly?”

He spoke near your ear like a secret. His tone hinted at humor, but his nose touching your ear in between threads of hair made you shudder from head to toe.

You gripped his coat, melting into his embrace as your thoughts thrashed inside your head. It was not silly! It would change everything!

Instead, you managed to say, “You should have told me.”

“Well,” you could feel his chuckle in his chest. “I’m telling you now.”

You pushed away to face him tempestuously, annoyance winning the battle for your heart, “I had to find out from my mom!”

“Ahh,” he looked apologetic, and the sorrow was still making him frown. “I… wanted to tell you tomorrow.”

You blinked, suddenly recalling you had a coffee set for tomorrow after work.

That could have subsided your annoyance, but instead it shook your heart, “Why? Why tell me after you already said yes? Why tell me at a coffee shop so impersonally instead of coming to my—” Your voice broke again as you faced him, and you shook, “Oh. I see.” Tears were suddenly roaming your eyes, but you pressed your lips, containing everything as much as possible. “Right.”

He wanted to say goodbye. He—

You couldn’t breathe and pushed his chest away, “I need to—”

“Wait,” he asked, pressing your lower back firmly so you’d stay in his arms. “You’re getting it all wrong!”

“Just let me go, Jin,” you begged breathlessly, unaware your heart could drown so much you wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“No!”

You swallowed dryly and attempted a reassuring smile, “You’ll tell me tomorrow just like you planned, it’s okay.”

“No,” he insisted, then shook his head. “I’m an idiot, I should have told you before, but I was afraid I wouldn’t go through with it then.”

You frowned, letting the tiniest bit of irritation seep through, “Because I’d remind you how crazy this is? And tell you not to do it?”

His puffy lips finally pulled in a genuine smile, “Because if I saw you, I’d be reminded of why I never said yes before, of why I never cared and just endured their pressure every damn day.” You blinked, unsure his reasoning matched yours. “And I would have endured it for who knows how long more, and it’s just—” He closed his eyes for a moment before facing you again, “And it’s just never going to end up anywhere.”

His smile was wistful, and it made you grip his coat again. You were so confused; his words didn’t make much sense to you, but just looking at him, your heart squeezed unbearably. You wanted to help him.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he added, and you noticed him pursing his lips while trying to think of the right words. “It’s not because you’re less important, or because you don’t matter. It’s because— because you matter so much.”

It seemed to you that his eyes and touch carried a deep fondness, one you had shared for most of your lives, so you believed him. You’d never doubt him, but you were still confused. If you mattered so much, then why did he keep that away from you? Every day was a long time to take that kind of pressure without venting or letting it out. Weren’t you there for him? Weren’t you his person in this world?

“I thought we always told each other everything,” you said, with your eyes fixed on his.

“And we do,” he raised his hand to your cheek, looking at you with such tenderness and sorrow.

And it had you shaking your head, “But we’ve been keeping secrets.” You were distracted by your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice him frowning. You faced him again, “You’ve told me about this, and I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”

It was his turn to be confused, brushing your cheek as if the gesture could make things clearer, like wiping the fog out of a mirror. Your eyes were clear, though, and you found a tranquility in the certainty of your decision.

“I’ve known for a while now, but everything was perfect, so I never said anything,” you confessed, not daring to look away from his eyes so his expression wouldn’t sway you. “I thought—” You closed your eyes before you faced him again; the lights and noise along with the crowd were all but forgotten. There was only Jin with his arms around you, your chests touching, and your faces so close, he was almost blurry. “I thought things could stay like this, but of course, they can’t. I never said anything but now… I have to, otherwise I’ll never have the chance to say it.”

His arms stayed around your frame effortlessly, like they were meant to be there, and his endearing eyes made you smile despite what was about to happen. It was because he was that one person to you; like a child’s blanket, better than an imaginary friend, he was your soulmate. It was that simple.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been looking at you as a friend,” your voice was steady. “I haven’t in a long while. You are my dearest friend in the whole wide world, of course, but there’s so much more. Inside my heart—” Your voice crumbled with the weight of your emotions, and your eyes welled up. Jin was staring at you with eyes wide and lips parted. His shock was evident, and you chuckled, “I’m sorry to burden you with this, I promise it’s the last time I’m asking this of you.”

“No,” he instantly raised his hand to cup your cheek again. “No, just— Tell me. Your heart.”

His voice was wavering, and you noticed he was struggling for breath. Was he hanging on every word you said? You couldn’t tell, but now you needed to voice everything that had been risking to fracture your heart.

“It beats like crazy because of you,” you breathed, grabbing his coat again to balance yourself. “When you drink and get touchy and comfortable, I— It’s so unhealthy for you, but those are some of my favorite times. When you put your arm around my shoulders at any time, when you hide me in your arms inside your blankets, when you take me to a comedian’s special because they’re my favorite, or when you bring me the best food because you know I don’t like to cook. I’m sorry,” you sobbed, interrupting your blurt with guilt prickling your heart. “I know you only see me as a friend, as family, but I— I didn’t mean to deceive you, I’m sorry.”

Your heart sunk; you never meant to do that. Your eyes lowered in shame, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall despite the whirlwind around you two.

You didn’t raise your gaze to Jin’s bewilderment, “Deceive me?” He took barely a second to squeeze you to hide in his chest and press his lips to your head. You hugged him back, holding on to him for as long as possible, and tried keeping everything in. “Does that mean…” He sounded pensive, but you suspected he was giving you time to work through your emotions. “You have feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry!”

His voice was close to your ear, but you didn’t raise your head to face him. You couldn’t. Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, you’d keep hiding in his chest, taking in his warmth, perfume, and presence for as long as you could.

But he pulled you away by the arms to face you, “No, but—”

“Hey!”

You heard a smack and opened your eyes, suddenly blinded by the psychedelic lights. The noise, the crowd; the oppression rushed you as Jin leaned into his friend to hear what he was saying.

“Come on, we got shots!”

Jin frowned and was about to answer, but you slipped away. You didn’t hear his reply, you had to leave. You fought the bodies on your way out, sluggishly moving through quick sand and feeling tight and trapped with every step. Only your eyes on the exit sign kept you from losing it until you were finally walking out the club’s entrance.

The night cold filled your lungs, but you didn't stop walking. You’d run in normal conditions, but none of this was normal. You never liked crowds, but you reckoned that wasn’t why you were running away.

It was Jin. Or rather, the hurt.

You didn’t regret telling him. No, that relieved you. Because you never realized you were holding it back until now, and you never had secrets to him. That felt like a worse sin than letting your feelings turn into something else. No, the problem was that you’d lose him. Not because you confessed how you felt; Jin wouldn’t leave you for that. But he would get married to someone else, whether that girl or someone else, and you’d have to just stand there and watch and—

A sob shook you, and you crumbled to your knees in the middle of the subway platform. You were so selfish. You berated yourself as you hid in your fists; Jin wouldn’t leave you for this, but you would. Because you couldn’t stand seeing him close and in love with someone else. You couldn’t even help to shake as you imagined it — the sight of you pushed aside to make way for the woman his heart desired, when you wished you were her all along.

You heard faint echoes in the distance, but you didn’t move. The subway stopped and let out a flood of people who tried very little to dodge the person cowering on the floor, in the middle of the way, but you couldn’t raise your head. You couldn’t face the world right now, you needed to cry. You didn’t even think to get up and get on the subway car to go home; time was evading you entirely while you sobbed.

Your lack of awareness was so that you jumped and faced up when two hands settled on your shoulders. Your heart was startled; you weren’t easily caught, being as fast as you were. But fortunately, the gaze facing yours was the only one you wished you’d see forevermore.

You couldn’t face him, but he was your safe place, so you jumped into his arms, hugging him so tightly you thought neither of you would breathe again. It was only a matter of time before Jin had to let you go or lay you down slowly, but that could wait just a second longer.

He pressed you equally hard, with not even a playful whimper to tease you out of his lips. Instead, his hand supported the back of your head as he seemed to want to pull you onto his lap from the floor.

“Where are you going?” He asked quietly, so soothingly, you felt instantly better.

“Home,” you sniffled.

“Without letting me finish?”

You nodded into his chest, and as he petted your head, you felt as a scared kitten lulled by its favorite human. You suppressed a sob, but his perfume still reached your nose, and you gripped his coat.

“You’ve always been too fast,” he mused quietly, but you still heard him. “You’re rushing,” he said more firmly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “And I need you to listen.”

You shook your head vehemently. You had always been the strong one of you two, or so it seemed. It was Jin who held you together every time; without him, facing the world seemed impossible.

“No?” He asked gently, and you shook your head again. “Why not?”

“I can’t,” you confessed, hiding further. Fortunately, he knew you well enough; he knew how to deal with you shutting down. “I know you want someone else, I understand—”

“You don’t,” he interrupted your wobbling voice confidently, and your heart jumped in fright. “You’re right — we have been keeping secrets. But mine isn’t that I said yes to my parents' arranged marriage. It’s why I did it. I’ve been in love with you for so long I don’t even remember when it started,” his voice had a tone of amusement that almost curbed your attention. You jumped within the confinement of his arms, your body reacting faster than your mind, as usual. You knew he felt you squirming to face him, but he kept you in place, flush to his chest, “Maybe it was when I had a crush on you when you were the fastest kid in school. Or maybe later, when I had the fattest crush ever when you entered the national Athletics team. You never stopped since, and I just didn’t have the guts to tell you,” he chuckled, hiding further in your hair, so close his warm breath covered you in goosebumps.

But you didn’t have time to think about it, “Why?!”

You pulled away to confront him, and he was smiling, the same as ever. So heavenly, your eyes filled with tears. Why had you never noticed there could be something more in those endearing eyes?

“It was never the right time, and… you had something else on your mind.”

He seemed nostalgic as he recalled you growing up together and spending your twenties supporting you in your endeavors.

His smile never wavered, and you grabbed him by his coat over his chest, “You should have told me!”

He chuckled, supporting your wrists gently, “Should I remind you about how you felt about dating?”

You froze, you could hear yourself saying it.

It’s a stupid distraction, there’s plenty of time for it later.

“No, I—” You clutched him as if he could drift away. “You’re different!”

“I know,” he chuckled. “I thought you’d send me packing the second you found out how I felt, so I kept as quiet as a mouse,” he whispered, talking closely to you as if it were a secret. “Taking you out, taking care of you, being there when something went wrong; that was enough for me. I guess when I got drunk, I let it out a little bit, but—”

“I’m happy you did,” you breathed, tearful eyes locked with his. “But then, why did you say yes?”

Your brow was furrowed in confusion, yet he just shrugged, “I’m thirty, and they won't shut up. I could never risk losing you, so I thought, what’s the harm?”

“The harm?” You croaked, your fears touching your voice. “Wouldn’t you have to cut all ties with me? Isn’t that why you were going to tell me tomorrow at a café?”

“What?” His frown was deep, “Heck no.”

“Then why at a café instead of meeting me at my place, as usual?” You insisted, still shaking.

“They have a new blueberry smoothie I wanted to try with you.”

You gripped his coat's lapels still, “But your future wife wouldn’t like my being in the picture.”

“That would never be negotiable.”

His thumbs were soothing on your wrists, drawing small circles while you took on his gaze. Jin rarely got so serious, but you could see as clear as day that he spoke the truth. That wasn’t surprising, you knew he’d never leave your side.

Still, you tilted your head, sadness suddenly pulling the corners of your mouth, “But wouldn’t you be unhappy?”

You had both ignored the screech coming from the tunnel, announcing the subway's arrival, but when the doors threatened to open, you couldn’t anymore. He didn’t answer your question; rather, he pulled you to your feet before the crowd could form again. You lowered your eyes to your intertwined fingers and let him guide you.

People stepped out to have some nightly fun, nearly emptying the car, and he pulled you to get in. Despite the available seats, you crossed to the opposite closed door and leaned back against it, as you often did. Jin was used to this and stood before you, facing you with both hands holding the bar above his head.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, even as a voice echoed from the speakers, the doors closed, and the train started moving.

“Yes,” he said, eyes equally unable to turn away. “I wouldn’t be happy, but who knows? Everyone else would be happy, you included. Maybe one day I could have been happy.”

Your frown sank deeply; you weren’t sure you agreed with his prediction in what concerned you, but that wasn’t what disturbed you the most. “I don’t like that,” you voiced with worry. “I don’t want you to care about anyone else’s happiness but your own.”

“I care about yours.”

“Not even mine.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Please, Jin. Just do what makes you happy!”

“Then I’ll kiss you.”

His voice was leveled, but his eyes were glistening intensely, and you blushed. You could see the passion in his gaze, in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he breathed.

“I’ll kiss you, squeeze you in my arms, take you into my blankets, and never let you leave.”

Your heart raced like never before, not even when you ran, and your cheeks burned harder. You knew he could read you like a book — your intentions and wishes were written all over your face. Still, he stayed put, eying you, and you glanced at his lips before looking into his eyes, “Then do.”

You desired for that to happen with every particle of your being, shaking in anticipation. But you recognized his caution, and didn’t censor him. Being careful was only natural; you were the most important person to him, as was he. And yet, this wasn’t a sudden desire brought about by alcohol or any outside factors. This wasn’t a novel attraction that you suddenly wanted to act upon. You looked at his lips again, licking your own absentmindedly. This was the culmination of years of repressed desire, curiosity, affinity, so much mixed into the same pot that it was a wonder it had never exploded before.

He lowered one hand to brush your cheek, and you closed your eyes, leaning into it. You wanted his touch, and all the affection it carried, and more. Your breath shook with the expectation, and you were a second away from opening your eyes and jumping for what you wanted, but then you trembled.

His pouty lips connected to yours, and you almost groaned, instantly voided of thoughts or breath. All you could do was reach your arms around him, drawing him close, right before he brushed your lips together and your instinct took over.

His mouth was so soft on yours that you pressed harder. Of course, Jin would be like a feather graciously grazing your lips, but you were ravenous. You were fast, natural, instinctively drawn to him and everything he could offer. You couldn’t even tell at what point you opened your kiss and dove in deep, only that you were fisting his hair, his hands were on the subway door, caging you in as he tried gluing your bodies as much as the motion of the car allowed it.

And you swayed with him, busy guiding your mouths in a push and pull of recognition while he stayed aware of your surroundings. You kissed, and you kissed, unwilling to pause or break away for a second. Nothing was more important than that; nothing was worth the distraction. You knew kissing him would floor you, the mix of his taste and the almost forbidden-like sensation burning up your spine, but it was more than that. How had you never done that before? How had you even been able to resist? How had you felt those lips on your cheeks, nuzzled his nose, and cupped his cheeks and never succumbed to your deepest desire?

The more you questioned, the more you took, licking his tongue and stealing his breath as if there was so much more he could give you. You knew he could, so when he pulled away and pressed your foreheads together, keeping you in place, you frowned.

He had stayed attentive to the outside world, just like you expected. The speakers announced your stop was next as he brushed your hair delicately behind your ears. You couldn’t look away, seeing the traces of what you had done on him. His disheveled hair, messed up shirt collarbone, kiss-bruised lips so tempting you licked your own. The glint in his eyes held a familiar mischievousness, and you could swear he was about to laugh euphorically. Yet, as the metro lost speed, he pulled away. He stood with feet apart so he could stay stable while the metro halted, and your eyes never broke away. You were still winded, and he was giving you space. He wanted you to decide.

To you, there wasn’t even a question. As soon as the doors opened, you grabbed his hand and pulled him with you. You never stopped dragging him along, up the street, past several corners, and into a residential area. He knew the way to your place, but he still let you do this, and you knew secretly he enjoyed it. He’d tease you about it, certainly, and you’d shrug and tell him you knew what you wanted.

He got dragged all the way to your apartment, and you slammed the front door closed behind him. You eyed each other in silence. You were alone, and that was enough to make the tension spark all around you. It was as though you had never been alone together before, not with all that raw desire burning in each one of you.

You didn’t turn on the lights; the city lights outside the windows were enough to illuminate his teasing expression. He was playful as always, but he was still, tense, not babbling jokes as he pretended your place was the same as his, as usual.

You took your sneakers and jacket off slowly, your eyes never leaving him, and he did the same. Then you made your way to your bedroom, and he followed you, staying parallel to you always. You stopped near the bed, and he didn’t even glance around, he was simply looking at you. That was why he didn’t notice the pile of blankets on your bed, the same you suddenly grabbed and threw over him. The surprise would be enough to catch him off guard, but you still hugged him and pushed him on the bed, cocooning him expertly while making sure his head was out so he could breathe.

A fit of laughter bubbled through him, so pure and relaxed, it melted you from head to toe. You loved seeing him laugh cheerfully like that, and made sure the cocoon was nice and proper while he let it all out.

“I said— I said I would take you into my blankets,” he said, still laughing, now with flushed cheeks and tearful eyes.

“Mine were closer,” you grinned cheekily, and he nodded.

“Get in here.”

His wonderful smile was big and genuine, and you did as he asked, the tension momentarily forgotten while you tried to find a way to get inside the blankets you had messily wrapped around him. He helped you sort them out between laughs and teases, and circled his arms around you, covering you both again, as if that had been the plan all along.

You blamed your ease on knowing and trusting Jin absolutely. Even if your nerves tried to catch, his scent alone was enough to soothe you, melting the anxiety before it could even form. There was no space for worries or fear, only the certainty that he was your person, and you were right where you belonged.

He brushed your hair gently to the side, eying you in silence, and you recognized his patience while he wandered in his thoughts without you. But no matter how much you liked being in his arms, you wanted more. You leaned in and nuzzled him, testing the waters, and his eyes hooded, but he didn’t move. He was waiting, maybe carrying out a test of his own, and you should pass it with flying colors.

You pressed your lips to his and felt them curve in a smile before brushing yours, inviting you to keep going. You weren’t as hungry this time around, looking to take your time and not rush things, but you knew then and there you’d be devastated. Already, there would be no one else who could compare to him. Not just his kiss or taste, but the way he knew, understood, and cherished you. If you did this, opened yourself to know him without reservations, your very soul would forever be branded in fire and love by an unparalleled bond. This certainty would not make you stop, however, quite on the contrary.

You were done waiting and looking the other way, pretending it wasn’t there. You let your hands trail down his chest without ever breaking away. Your focus was on his warmth, firmness, and presence as he grazed your lips delicately, but it wavered. It was still completely rendered to him, but you wanted to take everything in, and it had to satiate every little millimeter of your curiosity.

He never stopped kissing you with gentle, steady hands on your waist. Not to keep you away, but as an open invitation to do whatever you pleased. You knew as much without words, and you had no issues taking the lead.

Your hand lowered until the last button of his shirt, going under it to touch his skin. He kept kissing you ever so slowly, not flinching or touching your skin in his stead. So you continued, daring to trace the expanse of his lower stomach, forcing him to stop adoring you with his lips to catch his breath. He eyed you, a twitch of his eyebrows revealing a hint of torment, and your tongue peeked between your teeth. Making him feel that way only excited you more, and this time you captured his lips for a breathtaking kiss.

You wanted him and all the little things he was hiding. You had seen him in shorts during vacations, of course, but you had never touched him like this, and you couldn’t stop. Your hand trailed as far as his shirt let you, and you inhaled and swallowed every reaction he gave you, from sighs to a low, quiet growl deep in his throat.

You pulled the shirt to get it off him, and he let you, staying still as you traced and learned every inch of his skin anew. You saw as it took the markings of your nails and kissed near his collarbone, sighing with how intoxicating his scent was. It didn’t take long before you were starving for his kiss, looking to consume him again. Your desire to feel him was blooming effortlessly, but you didn’t want to jump the gun.

Instead, you took one of his hands from your waist and placed it under your shirt, over your stomach. He stopped kissing you to eye you, and you waited. It was his turn now, you wanted it just as much. How would you react to his touch? To his learning of your curves? Would you be able to read the desire in his eyes? Would the way he looked at you change?

He was even more affectionate than you had been. Every inch of skin revealed was adored by his lips or the tip of his nose, higher and higher until your bra stopped him. Or would have, but that was Jin. He simply pressed his face to your chest, staying there for a moment, breathing you in and keeping you close. You chuckled and petted his hair; he had always adored to put his head on your lap, you supposed that was the upgrade.

“I promise it’s even better without the clothes.”

He hummed, seemingly absentmindedly, before raising his head to face you, and your smile. There was something on his mind, and you were glad he voiced it, “I want to ask you something.”

You nodded with tranquility, brushing his shoulders caringly.

“If you knew for a while, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I liked how things were,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, but don't you like this?” He brushed his fingers right under the band of your sports bra, and you felt tingles down to your stomach. “I mean, I know I'm not muscular and strong like that football player you sort of dated a few years back, but—”

“Stop,” you smacked his shoulder playfully, then twisted a lock of his dark hair around your finger, “I like this, and I think I’ll like it even more than before. But why… it was a risk, and… I'm past my prime.”

“What?”

You had mumbled that last part and almost took it back, but you knew he wouldn’t let you. So you repeated it and saw irritation draw lines on his dreamy features.

“What on earth are you saying?”

You huffed and pouted, “You know how I feel about that…”

“Yeah, and you know you are not just your medals.”

“It’s not about the medals…”

“Then what?” He insisted, waiting patiently for you to look back at him.

“My injury,” you said simply, trying a detached shrug that was anything but. “I’m working on recovering, but I know I’ll never be what I once was.”

“I understand you feel that way,” he voiced after a moment of silence, carefully considering his words. “But what does that have to do with me?”

You smiled, “I didn’t want to lose you. I can lose everything, just not you,” you revealed with watering eyes.

He cupped your cheek, “You won’t. Ever. No matter what.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed with a tight chest, closing your eyes, and he leaned to touch your forehead with his.

“What for?”

“For not telling you as soon as I knew, though to be fair, I— I might have—” You pressed your lips for a moment before blurting it out, “I might have been scared, so I pretended it wasn’t there. When my mom told me about the marriage, I just— I felt like I couldn’t live. I’d lose you forever without ever telling you I—”

You sucked in a breath, and he waited patiently, and you almost smacked his shoulder. Because he knew you’d get way more flustered like this.

“I— I want to spend my life with you.” He hummed as though you both knew that would happen anyway, and you huffed, “I want to live with you. Wake up in your bed, and not just because we fell asleep drunk. Talk while we shower,” you rolled your eyes, annoyed that you had to stop talking in such circumstances. “Hold you and show everyone you’re mine. I don’t want to have to worry about anyone else stealing your heart.”

“Now, there are exceptions—”

“Of course, if we have a daughter it’s different, but—”

“What?”

His eyes widened in befuddlement, and your cheeks burned crimson. It took you a split second to hide in the pillows, looking to blend into your surroundings. You were faster than him, but he knew you well — he wrapped his arms around your waist, making sure you couldn’t go far.

“No, wait—”

“Let me go! I’ll die from embarrassment!”

He was trying not to laugh, “You’ll do no such thing!”

“I will!”

“You voice my deepest wishes and then die? I won't let you!”

He grabbed all the pillows and threw them away without ever loosening up his hold around you, not even when you tried turning, sliding, and squirming away. Quite on the contrary; he pushed you back flush to his chest, and you whimpered. Not just because he was firm in his want, or his wide chest enveloping you, but because something was teasingly poking your ass. You couldn’t help rubbing yourself against him as he lowered his lips to speak near your ear.

“Only a cute little version of you could ever steal my heart, and I’ll make it happen.”

You closed your eyes, clenching around nothing and pressing yourself even harder back against him.

“Live, sleep, and shower with me,” he whispered, as though he knew it was a sweet torture for you. “I’m yours, just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“I want you to touch me,” your voice wavered as you begged, nails sinking into his skin as you both kept his arms around you and wished he would touch you from head to toe.

“Are you sure?”

The tip of his nose touched your earlobe through your hair, and you shuddered, “Please.”

His arm loosened so his hand could land on your hip and squeeze it, and you whimpered. He was behind you, your big spoon, making you feel safe and treasured while your desire burst and made you rub your ass on his hard-on. Your hunger was like flames licking from your core all the way to your chest, driving you crazily desperate for him, and fortunately, he seemed to know it.

He trailed up under your shirt, palming your curves with his big hand until he reached your chest. He was unrestrained; he squeezed your breast tentatively, massaging with increasing strength until you squirmed. His warm breath fanned your ear and neck while you could feel the tease of what was to come too far from where you wanted it. Firmly, he felt you multiple times, earning every bit of the encouraging moans slipping past your lips.

You trusted his gentleness, loved his strength, and knew you affected him when he started kissing down your neck. He couldn’t seem to let you go, and you ground against him, finally letting your chin fall when he rutted into you. He was good at hiding it, but he was going insane just like you. That was the moment you thought you had the whole night to take it slow, just not now.

You knew he would agree because he was nibbling your skin, intertwining your legs together, and in an instant, bypassing the band of your sports bra to grab you directly. He squeezed, and you moaned, whipping your head back as he molded himself to feel you as much as possible.

You were delirious but it was ecstasy. You knew then and there that he could take you there, just like this. One hint of stimulation where it counted, and you’d fall apart like a house of cards. You squirmed, increasing the friction, and he hummed approvingly. It set your conviction further: he’d guide you, and you would snap, fast as an arrow and just as accurate.

His hand left your chest to move lower, pressing your flesh firmly, but then he stopped.

You whined, wiggling, “Don’t stop!”

He hummed into the back of your neck, and you pulled your own pants and underwear down, thrashing your legs around in annoyance to get them off. He kept kissing your skin soothingly, and you placed your hand over his, still on your lower stomach.

“Please.”

A nibble stole a sigh from you, along with a shudder, and his hand did as you asked. You immediately held your breath and let your whole body fall flush to his when his digit finally reached you.

Your chin dropped with the rivulets of pleasure navigating your skin from head to toe, and you braced yourself. You grabbed his pants by his hip behind you and rolled your hips ever so slightly, unable to stop yourself. It was too tempting; his touch was merely feather-like, but you knew heaven was right there, within reach.

He worked with you, rubbing his circles in a steady way to match the sway of your hips. When you gripped his pants to pull him closer, he obliged, or perhaps succumbed to the sensations of grinding himself against the curve of your ass. Everything became seamless; every motion, breath, moan, and kiss building you intensely to your finish line like in one of your sprints. You could see it, so clearly. It would shatter you, and you wanted it.

The more he rutted into you, the more you craved him inside you, and it did something to you. You were throbbing around nothing, and yet somehow the hint of what he wanted to do to you and how that would feel like were turning you on like crazy. He sank his teeth a bit more on your neck, and you wailed. He rubbed his fingers on your clit, and you moaned. Then he snapped his hips to your ass, and you gushed down your thighs, barely containing your derailment. Every touch, every roll of your hips a bit further, until you couldn’t stop.

You threw your head back and let every bit of emotion surface as you cried your ecstasy. Your spasms shook you, enveloping you so absolutely, you saw no end. Only his body anchored you, though you were powerless to the pleasure rippling and expanding through you. When it finally calmed, you could still feel its echoes slowly dissipating, your heart racing in such a way you could have just finished a sprint. Only it would have never left you wanting like this.

You turned around and caught his lips, having no qualms on grabbing his hair and keeping him close. Logic had taken a dive, and it was a different kind of you on the drive seat. The you who didn’t see any reason to hold back, who wanted to feel those sensations to the fullest, and to live with him the best type of rapture.

He matched your fire, hungry lips eating your moans, while his hands felt your waist with urgency. You spread your leg to lace around him, and although pressing yourself to him had you both breathing heavily, his hand was still stubbornly on your waistline.

“Don’t hold back,” you asked in a quick pause before grabbing his arm to incentivize him to move.

You kissed him again, and his hand finally wandered to the end of your back before grabbing your ass in a firm squeeze. It was the last drop you needed to push him by the shoulder to straddle him. Instantly, you looked down and sulked — why were you both not skin on skin?

You threw your shirt over your head hastily, your bra following suit, and then you faced him. His eyes absorbed your body’s details, from the way your hair fell over your naked shoulder to your lips dripping slick on the bulge of his pants. You rolled your hips to feel him, pleased with how hard he felt, but not with the clothes between you.

You raised to your knees, looking down, “Take them off.”

Your urges and desire were driving your actions, so you didn’t think how that could have come across, but he didn’t seem to mind. He struggled with his pants and dragged everything as far as he could with you over him. Lucky for him, that was the moment you had to get off him to reach the bedside drawer. That momentary pause had allowed you to remember something important: condoms.

He was pushing his clothes into the bottom of your cocoon when you sat back on his lap with the condom wrap in your hand. You waved it, and he nodded before you looked down. Your eyebrows knitted; how could this be?

You put the condom on his chest and sat back further on his legs so you could lean and reach the tip of his cock with your tongue. That single drop was enough for you to open your mouth and take him, humming with his taste. Why was he pretty everywhere? Even his cock instantly made you drool, wanting to slurp, and swallow him whole.

“Wait—”

He touched your hand over his stomach, and you looked up, lips still spread around his cock. You needed more convincing to let it go.

“I— I want to—”

You blinked and stilled your bobbing, though not your tongue.

“I— What I—”

He swallowed dryly, and a small part of you found the situation amusing. He looked dashing: flushed cheeks, a few strands of dark hair glued with the sweat on his forehead, glistening eyes, wide chest with too little marks yet, and a firm torso leading to a juicy cock you were happily devouring.

You could see in his eyes that he was having trouble speaking. He needed a pause so he could think, and you had only one choice.

You pushed his shaft deeper and started swallowing around it, drooling all over it with hunger.

He grabbed your hand, “Wait, please!”

His tone was desperate, and you instantly released him from your mouth.

He fell limp on the mattress and rubbed his face harshly, and you pouted, “You don’t like it?”

“I do!” He raised his hands and placed them on your hips, “Damn, it’s— You feel so good.”

He sounded tortured now and you kind of liked it, so you leaned down to peck his stomach and he reached for your head.

“No, I want to be inside you. I—” He hesitated, and you supported his hands on your cheeks. You didn’t want him to hold back, you were in too deep now. “I want to make love to you.”

Your eyes widened as you blinked, and you nodded. He grabbed the condom to put it on while you observed in a momentary stunned silence. It wasn’t like you didn’t want the same, or that your need for him was devoid of love, but— To hear him say it like that, it— It made your heart skip.

You took his hands to help you position yourself over him and paused. Looking at him, you wanted to be sure you were taking that leap together, and he smiled with a small nod. His hands on your hips assured you and when you sank, so did the pleasure morphing his face.

You whimpered, but you were focused on him first. He looked like the sexiest, hottest man you had ever seen just taking in the sensation of being sheathed inside you, and you loved it. You loved how you could sweep him off his feet by just uniting your bodies, how his eyebrows knitted and how he couldn’t seem to breathe no matter how long he had to get accustomed.

You lay over his chest to kiss him and his lips immediately answered, though you were sure his mind was out the window. It was just you and him, body on body, feeling on feeling, finding a way to meet halfway.

You rolled your hips, finding the best angle and speed, and made work of reading his reactions. When he frowned, sank his fingers into your hips, or moved his legs to help you feel him deeper. You loved every little detail, grinding to have the best poke of his cock inside you, when you realized he was staying way too still.

You grabbed his hands and put them on your chest, and he instantly played with your tits. It tightened you immediately, the view alone something that could drive you insane, let alone the fact that his delicious cock was tucked to the hilt inside you.

You were getting lost in the superposition of pleasures when he suddenly jolted, making you moan in surprise with how deeper he had managed to get. It made you bite your lip, teasing him to do it again, but his smile was almost sheepish as he got back to just enjoying and massaging your chest.

You frowned, “Don’t hold back.” He eyed you quizzically, and you insisted, “I won’t break. Do not hold back.” You leaned in again to nuzzle him, “Make love to me—”

Your soothing voice was interrupted abruptly as he laced your legs together and rolled on top of you. Instantly, the shift in angle allowed him to reach inside you differently, and you moaned. You grabbed him close, wrapping your legs around his waist as he tentatively thrust once, twice. His eyes never turned from yours, taking in the way you were adrift. Your mouth had fallen open, and your breaths had a voice of their own with every jerk of his hips.

He dragged his fingers over your chest, pinching a nipple before leaning in completely, gluing your bodies. The friction was maddening, and you could swear he was jutting his hips like that on purpose. You held on the best you could, every slap a test to your senses, and soon you were only moaning, trying not to fall apart, but powerless to stop it.

You wanted to call his name, but you couldn’t think how to speak anymore. Rather, his eyes were on yours, and you could see his torment and affection mirroring yours. You wanted him so much, to be with him forever. Every swing of his hips tensed your body unbelievably, and his beautiful deep eyes, it was too much. You wanted him too, needed him too, loved him too. You couldn’t say it, but you could feel it, and he knew it too.

He tried kissing you, but you were too far gone. Your pleasure sought to floor you, but his constant thrusts through it elevated your senses uniquely. You were unraveling but also waiting, and as he gripped you, fucking you harder, you could see it in his eyes — he was almost there.

You helped him, moving to deepen his reach inside you, and felt the moment he popped. It was a throbbing deep within you that mixed and added on top of your ongoing orgasm, and you clenched harder. You moaned deeply, confused but unable to stop the way your body responded to his pleasure deep inside you. Instead, you let the wave take you, moaning as he groaned, both telling each other through sounds, gazes, and feelings how deeply you felt one another.

He settled inside you, recovering his breath while you held him close. You whimpered when he pulled away, tapping his shoulders so he’d hold you again, but he just looked at you. You raised a hand to his cheek, a question shimmering in your eyes along with so much else. Finally, he dove in for your lips, sealing the words on the tip of his tongue through a loving kiss.

134 notes · View notes

bangtanwritershq · 2 months ago

Text

Bangtan Writer's HQ Stance On The Usage of AI in FanFiction

As a Fanfiction Writing Network, we celebrate and praise authentic, creative works of written art. Because writing is an art to us. In the same way that Namjoon puts his pen to paper to craft lyrics, and Yoongi toils away for weeks creating a perfectly produced beat—the time, effort, and thoughtfulness that our members put into creating their written work is meaningful to us no matter the content of their work. Whether it is War of Hormones or Black Swan level of writing, the authenticity of the writing—that it comes from the author's own creative and original mind—is what Bangtan Writer’s HQ stands for.

In order to not discredit our members and the efforts of their legitimate works, Bangtan Writer’s HQ does not condone or promote the use of AI beyond the scope of its role. The role of AI is not to replace the writer or the writing process but to act as a creative assistant, offering aid in enhancing the research within the writing process, e.g. brainstorming, outlining, character profiles, world-building support, and edits to grammar, syntax, and stylistic corrections.

We recognize that AI can be helpful to creatives, as we outlined above; however, we also are aware of the drawbacks of AI, which can lead to significant negative impacts to one’s own creative processes, including ethical and copyright issues, cultural insensitivity or even unintended stereotypes, and most importantly that relying too heavily on AI to generate fiction could potentially stagnate a writer's creativity. It may discourage writers from developing their skills, taking risks, and exploring their imagination, leading to a lack of praise and feedback on works, further decreasing motivations for writing.

To help mitigate the promotion of fics using AI, we ask that anyone who encounters a story on our page that potentially has used AI please reach out to an Executive Producer with your concerns. Below are options for reaching out:

Google Feedback Form

Send a DM to @hisunshiine or @colormepurplex2

#bangtanwhq

4 notes · View notes

yoonia · 4 months ago

Text

thank you for tagging me @aaagustd <3

get to know me ♡

favourite colour: purple! and any shade range that is based on purple

last song: colors by elvis drew

currently reading: I'm currently reading a few things; novel: A Conjuring of Light by Victoria Schwab, I started reading this two weeks ago but I had to put it down due to having a mental block where I really didn't want to do anything at all, but I'm trying to finish it this weekend; manhwa: Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, I've heard about this series a long time ago but never got to dive into it until recently, when I received a comment from a fan of the series who were looking for an ORV fanfic on AO3 and accidentally found one of my B.I fics instead and loved it so much they suggested that I try writing one for ORV fandom lol. I got curious so I'm in the middle of catching up with it now

currently watching: ...nothing? I was binge watching Dark series last weekend but stopped due to some stuff happening. I've been watching random travelling vlogs on Youtube lately tho

currently craving: spicy chicken sandwich. iced latte. churros. lumpia. hot ramen. I just got back from swimming with my nephew so I'm 'a bit' hungry lol

coffee or tea: coffee. I really can't live or function without it lol

tagging: @kithtaehyung @lo1k-diamonds @cybrsan @hisunshiine @ressjeon

...and anyone else who wants to play too! just consider this post as your tag if you're reading this <3

#get to know me tag #tag games ♡#tagged

5 notes · View notes

hisunshiine · 3 months ago

Text

—eternal reign | knj |

🥀 pairing: vampire king!namjoon x concubine!namedreader 🥀 au/genre: arranged marriage au, joseon era au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst 🥀 rating: M 🥀 wc: 7,748 🥀 warnings: some Joseon Dynasty research, reader starts as a concubine, mentions of murders, minor character deaths (off screen, minimal detail), patriarchal society, this is a vampire story, so some things come with the territory, like: mentions of blood, dubious consent, blood drinking, bleeding, scars, predator/prey feelings, explicit smut: unprotected vaginal sex, blood play, marking, eating out, nipple play 🥀 an: I used some of the historical figures of the Joseon Dynasty, and while I researched a lot for accuracy of this time period to respect the culture to the best of my knowledge, some historical information has been shifted and molded as this is a fiction story. For more information on Korean Coronation Events. Dual POV of 3rd and 2nd person, but the reader is named.

special thanks to the beta readers: @moonleeai, @colormepurplex2, @downbad4yoongi, @heathfritillary-blog, and @pars-ley

🥀 summary: In the shadowed courts of the Joseon Dynasty, a new King rules—one who holds a centuries-old secret that could unravel the kingdom. Namjoon, cloaked in mystery, is forced into a political marriage with the cunning yet unknowing Taelani, who soon discovers that her husband is no mere mortal. Drawn into his dark legacy and a web of alliances that could seal their fate, Taelani faces a choice: fulfill her family’s long-hidden destiny or defy it in pursuit of a forbidden love. As whispers of blood and betrayal rise, the throne itself may be the ultimate sacrifice.

🥀 an#2:🎃This wicked treat was written for Theresa - @mrsparkjimin18 as part of the “Sweet Tricks & Wicked Treats” BWHQ Fic Gifting Event 🎃and was also written for the @bangtanwritershq’s 4th Quarter Writing Event: Monster Mash

masterlist ❁ ao3

Joseon Dynasty year 1483

🥀🥀🥀Namjoon🥀🥀🥀

Namjoon never expected to sit upon the sacred altar in Changdeokgung Palace, as the recipient of the Three Cheers from the crowd, where the people hurrahed for his longevity and for the dynasty.

“We are meant to rule from the shadows,” the memory of his grandfather’s voice flits through his head as if he’s standing beside him. “An absolute and eternal reign relies on the eternal flame which burns with our dedication and loyalty, and which must remain out of sight from those who wish to douse our light.”

And yet, mere hours ago, under the beating heat of the Korean sun, he participated in the Transfer of the State Seal with Queen Sindeok, listened to the Three Solemn Calls, watched as the Three Kowtows were performed, and returned it with the Four Ceremonious Bows.

The room around him is loud, and Namjoon struggles to focus for a moment as he gazes across the crowded space. The gilded walls encapsulate the refreshments and revelry as the noble families celebrate his ascension to ruler of the country. He looks around, eyes finally landing on his family members split between being wall flowers blending in and meteor showers glittering as they shine across the night sky.

He takes an unneeded deep breath, sighing in his discomfort. He knows it was his idea; something had to be done to maintain the balance in the realm, but he’s not used to being a figurehead for something so much larger than himself—for the very thing he sacrificed everything for to protect.

“Ah, Yi Bang— I mean, King Namjoon, my apologies,” the greasy-haired Chief State Councillor Jeong Dojeon bows lowly in apology at using the given name of the prince and not his newly appointed royal title now that the transition to king has been completed.

That is one upside to this position, Namjoon thinks as he stares at the man. Even if I must hide my identity, at least I am able to keep my true name.

“I wanted to present to you my family’s gift for your coronation.” His eyes, small and squirrely, gleam with a dark intent that Namjoon has always detested. As one of the government officials appointed by the previous Queen’s father, Dojeon craves ultimate power, pushing for the Councillors to make decisions for the King, instead of enacting and enforcing the King’s decisions. “This is Jeong Taelani, my eldest daughter. She is now yours, Pyeha.”

The honorific term is not lost on Namjoon. The Chief State Councillor’s schmoozing actions are as oily as his hair, but Namjoon’s not a squeaking door, and his disdain only grows as he tracks the sweep of Dojeon’s hand towards the girl next to him, as if he needs a concubine to loosen him up.

But Namjoon has to work hard to school his features back to stoic boredom when his eyes fall onto the—unable to believe he called her a girl—beautiful woman standing a pace behind her father.

Red hanbok lace and silks flow over her curves. Gold threading is woven intricately at the hem, along the cuffs engulfing her delicate hands, and at the lapels that tie above the swell of her breasts, glimmering, resplendent swirls that captivate him. He doesn’t show it, though. Despite his next words, his tone is full of boredom and his eyes barely linger on her.

“Thank you, Dojeon, she is a true beauty.”

The older man smirks, rubbing his bearded face thoughtfully. “She has been trained for, ahem, her position—assisting your every need—in the palace her whole life, and vetted through the steps to be placed here just last week. I am sure that you will find her to be up to your standards.” He bows once more, this time much lower, before backing away from the elevated seating area and disappearing back into the party.

“Emperor,” Taelani bows deeply, her knees gracefully meeting the floor as she pays him the respect of a ruling monarch. Her voice is a deeper honey sound, more seduction than the tittering pitch of the female nobles Namjoon is used to.

“Jeong Taelani,” Namjoon tests her name in his mouth, her jasmine fragrance invading his senses as she resumes her previous standing position. Her large eyes look away from his gaze quickly, but that’s all he needs to feel the heat of the lightning they struck him with. He can feel his pants tightening—thankfully, his gujangbok covers his crotch from the view of both Taelani and his attendees.

He stiffens, feeling something else begin to lengthen in need, and he turns his eyes swiftly away from Taelani, looking at the palace guards nearest him.

“Please escort Taelani to her chambers, and send for the Huwon guards. I will meet them shortly.”

🥀

Sharpened ivory glistens under the moonlight before piercing the unblemished bronze skin of the woman’s throat, his venom silencing the beginnings of a guttural shriek before it can really begin. He settles in the gazebo with a jimil nain, or lady-in-waiting, straddled across his lap. Her throaty sounds transition instead to a pleasurable moan as she attempts to grip the lapels of his ceremonial robes.

He grasps her hands, pulling them away from him and moving them behind her back, clutching both wrists in one hand so his free hand can resume controlling her head for his monthly feeding. One that he should not have needed just yet, thanks to the retaliatory massacre last week, but he ignores that fact for now.

The blood fills his mouth, sharp pulls draining the essence from the woman as her movements against his body slow. He’s thankful—her body is not the one he craves to be writhing above him in pleasure, despite her lovely sounds and curves.

He has to play this role smartly. His family’s legacy is on the line. He withdraws his fangs, feeling the dull ache of thirst dissipate fully as his blood lust retreats. The woman is nearly unconscious, and the two guards who brought her approach her limp form silently.

“Thank you,” he says to his younger brothers, both adorned in the traditional wear of the Naegeumwi Royal Guards. They take the woman from him as he stands before the youngest of the two, Jungkook, takes her fully and holds her almost in a lover’s embrace. Namjoon looks at them as he steps several paces away and Taehyung, his other sibling, approaches him and straightens his robes to help him look presentable again.

“NaBi was the only one we could get on such short notice,” he explains quietly as the sounds of Jungkook feeding crescendos and subsequently drops as he heals the bites on the now sleeping woman’s neck. “She was already in Kook’s room waiting for him.”

Namjoon runs his fingers over his silks, tightening the belt at his waist. “Tell him I’m sorry I didn’t mean to mess up his feeding schedule. The hunger just took over and I…”

“He understands.” Taehyung places his hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “We’ve never taken on something like this, so we didn’t know what to prepare for. We’ll move more of the feeders into the palace in various positions, and Jimin can oversee them. Your plan was the best one, and we will find a way to make it work.”

Jungkook cradles the woman’s body in his arms bridal style as he steps towards the door. He and Taehyung lead Namjoon out of the garden and back towards the main palace. Jungkook turns to the left down a hallway after they enter shelter as Taehyung and Namjoon continue toward the Emperor's chambers.

“Have Jimin order more of the blood tea for the feeders. I’m not sure how often I’ll need to feed now that…” he trails off as they walk, thoughts conflicted with this strange turn of events. He stops once he reaches the doorway of his room. “And Taehyung? Discretion, please.”

Namjoon feels the tension leave his body once he is in his own space. He didn’t expect to feel the voracious pull to feed so soon—he drank more than his fill merely a week ago. Typically, he feeds once a month, so the blood lust he just quenched is strange. Could it be because of his new concubine? Her scent is oddly alluring to him, and his attraction to her is undeniable. He hasn’t ever experienced such a thing, but maybe one of the elders knows something more.

🥀🥀🥀Taelani🥀🥀🥀

Confused. That’s how you feel as you are led away from the king, his eyes regarding you cooly before you disappear into the quiet halls of the palace. Your slippers and the silks you wear are the only sounds you hear as you are shown the pathway to your quarters, and then the low hum of the maids' voices as they help you undress and prepare for bed.

The next week continues much the same as your first night in the castle. The other court members are seemingly always busy, leaving you bored and unsure of yourself. On the one hand, you are happy that you haven’t been called upon like you were warned would happen—like you’ve been trained for. Your womanhood remains intact, something you did not expect to happen, but it allows your time of the month to come and go without any issues.

A part of you did fear that your menstrual cycle would agitate the new king should he come upon you that first night, but instead, he had shied away, allowing you time to spend in the royal library reading and writing letters to your sisters. At the end of the first week, you squeal with happiness when a courtier brings you a sealed parchment marked with your family’s crest.

Dearest Taelani,

How have you been? We are so pleased that you’ve had time to write to us. Is it nice there? I so wish we could have joined you on the trip, but Father said no. Are the rumors true? Is the king as bloodthirsty as his predecessors? Is there war on the horizon? Will you be able to throw a fancy ball so we can visit? I know you’re his only concubine right now, do you think you will become his wife? Father is not telling us much, and he’s making it seem like we shall never get to travel to see you.

Don’t forget us!

As if you could ever forget your sisters. And a ball sounds like a lovely idea…really. You wonder if the king would allow you to do such a thing and if your father would allow your sisters to come. Maybe if the king demanded their presence. Your sister made a good point that right now, there’s no one else to compete with for his affections. If you can charm him, is there a possibility..? If only he would see you or talk to you. How else could you convince him of this one favor, or even that you’re worthy of a more legitimate role?

It couldn’t be so easy as to show up at his bedchamber tonight and try and convince him with a well-placed massage? Could it?

Deciding to reign in all of your thoughts, you hold off on writing back so as to see first if you could plan a soiree of some sort, and turn back to the book you were reading before the courtier arrived. It was not written all that long ago, but it details some of the more recent history of the country, including the king’s grandfather.

You had always thought it to be an urban legend, the stories whispered in the dark about when his grandfather was in power, but as you read through the history of the family, you realize with each story of the king’s grandfather that he truly was blood thirsty for power—he apparently murdered all of his older siblings for the throne.

There is a massive family plot to the south of the palace that holds his deceased siblings, and ever since, despite the number of enemies the crown has acquired over the years, his family line has been the only one to rule. Every attempt to maim and murder the royal family has been thwarted, and the groups leading the coups are never to be seen or heard from again. Bloodthirsty isn’t even half of it.

Closing the handwritten tome, you gather your skirts about you so that you can climb off the comfortable lounging spot. You have spent all week reading through to try and understand this family that you now reside with, but all you seem to find is death and despair. Through the window you can see the sun is setting, and now that you have a plan in mind, you decide to seek out the king instead of waiting for him to come to you. With your cycle gone, you feel confident enough to seduce King Namjoon. As his first concubine, you are sure you won’t be the last, but you want to make an impression.

As a woman in this world, your power is lacking. The power you do hold will be in the sons you can bear for the king, and in the ability to wield your feminine wiles to seduce and keep the king wrapped around your finger. Best to start now.

🥀

The palace corridors are well-lit as you traverse the pathway towards the king’s chambers. You made a quick stop at your own rooms, shedding the hairpins that bound your hair tightly, allowing your tresses to fall in subtle waves from the earlier styling. You also shed some of the layers you typically wear, allowing you to show off more of your curves.

There doesn’t appear to be anyone outside the door to his room, so you slip in easily, taking a look around. The room is tidy, with barely anything on display on the walls or in cabinets to show his personality. Cold, just like he was the first time you met. A few minutes pass as you observe what you can, until voices outside the door alert you to the king’s approach. You position yourself on his bed, sitting at the edge with a leg crossed over the other and your palms behind you as you lean back slightly.

Your loose hair is over one shoulder, and you attempt to flutter your eyes demurely as King Namjoon steps into his bedchamber.

🥀

Ten minutes later, you stand in your own room again, confused by what had occurred. The King, a young, virile man, sent you out after you all but threw yourself at him. If anything, he seemed in a rush to get you out of his rooms, all but promising that you had nothing to worry about when you voiced not carrying out your duties.

“I know you worry about your standing in the palace, but you have nothing to fear. I will not be taking in any other women—you are the only one for me. You will be my Queen Consort. So please, you don’t have to stoop to these levels. You are excused.”

You definitely hadn’t prepared what to do in the event that the King said you didn’t need to seduce him and that you would be his Queen Consort. All of the stories the women told you about had prepared you for losing your virginity and other sexual acts to seduce the King and win his favor. Nothing they shared with you implied you wouldn’t have to do anything sexually with the man and he would raise your status one step, though a large one in the eyes of the nation. A wedding already in the works, unbeknownst to you. How strange this new king is.

🥀

The royal wedding that everyone has been waiting for a month to arrive is nearly here, with you in your red gowns of silks and satin, awaiting your cue for the ceremony. As much as you’ve enjoyed not having to behave wantonly, a part of you is drawn to your betrothed, and you realize: you want to. His movements as he walks through the palace, the grace with which he moves and speaks, all of these small things seem to thrum through your body, lighting all of your nerve endings on fire.

Why he denies himself the access he has to your body, you aren’t sure, but you hope that this wedding means that will come to an end. Maybe he’s just been waiting for tonight to consummate the marriage, instead of behaving how you were warned all men with power behave.

Everything is a blur as the hours pass, the sun crossing the sky until it descends below the horizon, allowing the moon to rise into its rightful place. With all of the revelers now sated in thirst or hunger or desire, they’re all sequestered away in the places that allow them to unwind. Most of the palace is now quiet, and you tiptoe with feather-light steps across the bedchamber towards your newly betrothed.

The King sits at an ornamental desk, metallic paints wrapping around the curves of the furniture as he leans over and writes, the scratches of the quill on the parchment revealing the short strokes he writes in Hangul. He’s shirtless, wide shoulders unblemished and you want nothing more than to mar the skin with signs of pleasure.

Your fingers lift to lightly trace along his right shoulder, but before you can touch him, his left hand grasps your fingers as he half turns to face you. You let out a small gasp in surprise—you didn’t think he would have heard you sneak up on him.

“Perhaps you should head to bed, Taelani, it was a long day.”

He barely looks at you as he speaks, and you feel yourself wilting. It’s fascinating, but deeply disturbing to you that it seems like he’s attracted to you but keeps turning you away. Everything you’ve been told about men is wrong. You want him to have his way with you, and he can’t be bothered to even stop drafting a letter to look at you for more than a second.

You feel yourself pouting, and it seems to work for a moment. Namjoon’s eyes soften, and he tugs you closer when you attempt to pull your hand out of his.

“I know this is not the most normal of situations, but I won’t stop you from seeking out your needs. You can take up with anyone as long as it is discreet, and any children you should bear will all be raised as if they are my own.” You freeze as he releases his hold on you and turns away, back to his missive.

You step away from him, trekking backward until the backs of your thighs touch the silk sheets on the bed. Embarrassment heats your neck and cheeks, because you do not understand why your husband turns away from you. It makes you feel…unwanted. Sitting down, you can only blink as you attempt to understand the man before you. But nothing thus far has made any sense.

🥀

The movement of the bed slowly wakes you, and you stretch your limbs out as your eyes blearily try to take in the low lighting in the room.

“...need the Huwon guards as soon as possible, I will meet them there.”

You stay still when you hear his voice, your brain instantly becoming more alert as you try to hear more of his request, but it only grows quiet again as the door shuts. You can barely hear his footfalls as he flits about the room, and you sneak a peek through cracked eyes as you keep your breathing level. He’s grabbing his upper garments and re-dressing, and in only a few more moments, he’s slipping out of the door.

You get up, immediately grabbing for your robes as you slip from the satin sheets to follow your new husband.

You stay as far back as you can, drifting between shadows as you make your way towards what you now know is the Huwon Secret Garden. While the garden grounds themselves take up a large expanse of the palace area, there is a beautiful and intimate pagoda of sorts that lies in the rear after crossing a small bridge with a tiny waterfall. You lose sight of Namjoon, but you know he must be headed there, so you continue on your way, avoiding the minimal guard presence.

Approaching the enclosed garden pergola, a gasping moan sounds and you quicken your steps, evermore the curious. Peering through one of the open slats of the enclosure, you see your king—your husband—with his arms wrapped around another woman. His mouth is to her neck as she straddles him, and though her face is hidden between the shadows and behind his bulky build, you know you heard the pleasure she felt. When he pulls back from her, you watch, entranced, as he laves his tongue along the skin he’s just marked. A burning jealousy shoots through your veins until a cloud moves out of the moonlight and a beam shines straight through.

Your eyes widen as they take in the elongated fangs, the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, and the way the woman now lay limply in his arms. Spinning on your heel, you flee back to your room, praying that your pounding heart calms enough before he returns.

🥀🥀🥀Namjoon🥀🥀🥀

It’s almost debilitating to Namjoon having his new wife around him. It’s been only a week—one mere week of his eternal life—and you have made him into a ravenous, salacious blood fiend. This lust for the iron-smelling essence that runs through mortal veins, and one in particular more so than the others, means that he hasn’t been handling all of the new changes to his life well.

Going from the shadows and becoming the face of the nation he loves so much, that his whole family has given their lives for, is not exactly what he expected. He is much more used to using violence with his bare hands—and teeth—for their gain. Having to navigate politics with his wife’s father, Chief State Councillor Jeong Dojeon, is a whole new experience for him.

Not to mention that he’s insatiably drawn to his titillating wife, but knowing that her father is actively working against the reigning family has Namjoon’s guard up. The way she keeps trying to throw herself at him… Admittedly, he knows he’s spied on her letters and conversations, and she seems none the wiser to what her father is doing, but too much is at stake for him to risk it without knowing where she stands for sure.

Namjoon stretches his arms above his shirtless torso, then sets down the quill to mull over the letter he needs to finish and send to the front lines of their war efforts against the rival faction. They’ve quieted down some, ever since their attack on the true prince which led to an almost absolute destruction of said rival faction, but money will unite anyone against a common enemy if paid enough.

His ears perk up as he takes in the thrumming melody of your heartbeat as you move around the adjacent bathing room to your communal bedchamber. It’s late, much later than a person would typically bathe, and without the aid of maids, but he’s in no hurry to overwhelm his senses with you. He focuses on the sounds; of the water draining from the side of the palace, of the soft garments sliding along your skin as you dress, and he tenses—readying himself for your scent to overtake him as he turns and stands to face your re-entrance into the room.

Beautiful. Your large eyes are bright, warm even, and the way your body gracefully moves in that—he forcefully exhales as you approach him in an ornately sewn, semi-transparent lace robe. The vision of your full breasts with lace flowing over the peaks stuns him momentarily, and he allows himself a moment to drink you in. He’s so focused on trailing his eyes along the cupid’s bow of your full top lip that he doesn’t realize you’ve spoken to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“Oh,” you look down demurely, taking him by surprise. “My king, please. I would like just a moment of your time.”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies, but hesitates as he sits back down, unsure of what could have triggered such a formal conversation. Though, to be fair, he knows he hasn’t been the best conversationalist with his own wife.

He watches as you pull a small, stuffed stool closer to him and sit on it regally. The robe parts with the movement and he’s able to see that only a thin sliver of fabric covers your mound. Everything else is revealed to him. Your navel, your thighs, so much skin…

“I know that you’ve given me permission to seek out other men, but I—I don’t want that.”

Namjoon is still as he reigns in his impure thoughts and focuses all of his attention on you. “What is it that you want?”

“I want my husband. I–don’t you also feel—I just…” you sigh, and the weight of your next words would bring Namjoon to his knees had he not been sitting. “I know who you are. And I don’t care. I—”

Namjoon stands to his full height, eyes slightly narrowed at your small frame.

“You know who I am?” he questions with disdain. Of course, you were too good to be true and exactly what he expected of your father.

“Yes, you may be the king, but more than that, you’re my husband.”

Namjoon pauses, listening on, but can see how tense you remain to continue speaking. “And what exactly don’t you care about?” He questions.

“I don’t care that you’re a—a vampire,” you rush out and continue speaking. “So please, don’t hold yourself back from me, I don’t want you to seek out your pleasure from others in the castle when I’m right here.”

His brain reels with an overwhelming amount of thoughts as you look up at him from where you sit, shoulders tight and lifted towards your ears as your chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath you take as you wait for him to speak.

You know he’s a vampire. How, he isn’t sure, because he knows that your father is not aware of that fact. No, he only assumed that your father had figured out that he was not the true prince, and instead a cousin filling in for the role, and shared this information with you. Nope, you meant you knew that he was immortal and knew of his late-night proclivities. He slowly lowers himself into the chair he vacated, wholly unprepared when you throw yourself forward onto your knees before him.

“Please, I’m right here. I only want you to touch me. No one else.”

Unable to resist, Namjoon does touch you, reaching beneath your arms to lift you to him. Even while standing, your eyes are only a few inches above him as he sits, and you step between his parted legs when he gently tugs you further into his space.

“I didn’t realize that my words made you feel unwanted.” Namjoon speaks slowly as he gathers his thoughts to organize his words. “I’m unsure how you came about this information, but I.. th-there’s some things we should clear up.”

Your eyes appear to study him intently, brows inching closer as your face wrinkles with apprehension. The flooding of your veins as your heart rate increases leads Namjoon to pause and hold his breath before speaking.

“There is a reason that I have been so distant, and yet have only sought out to take one wife and no others. It came to my attention that your father has been one of the main financial supporters of a rival political party that supports more control from Chief Councilors and less from me. This money helped supply weapons and mercenaries, and there was an…attempt on my life recently. It was nearly successful at bringing down this clan’s reign and ending our family line.”

You gasp as he reveals this partial truth, and say, “I swear to you, my king, I knew not of such plans, I know my father has ambitions and a dislike for the lack of his power due to the crown, but not that he would steep to such levels for gain.” Namjoon can feel the way your pulse reacts as he holds your wrists in his large hands. You truly were not aware, and this knowledge helps quell any lingering doubts he has about sharing more information with you.

“I believe that you had no knowledge of his plans or his financial support. But, because of that event, it is what led me to say yes to you as my concubine. You see, I felt that by having his daughter in the palace and by my side, that he would pull back his support of any rivals, and even decide to stop pushing for less control, especially since any heir would be his own grandchild to be on the throne.” Namjoon knows this last part is a lie, since he could not provide you with any children and the plan that is in place would not allow any child of yours to be on the throne, but he can’t tell you that.

You nod, eyes rapt with attention as they pour over his face, gleaning any additional information you can.

“My king, I do not support my father in his ventures. I promise you, I…he has never been much of a father to me. More like a tyrant or like…like he believes that my life does not matter more than what I am able to provide for him. You have saved me from him in so many ways, and I just want to show you my gratitude. I want you to feel my appreciation.”

Your tone holds not an ounce of seductive undertones as you continue, “I care not that you are a vampire, I—” he allows you to pull free from his hold, turning your hands so that your palms lay on the outsides of his and you guide them carefully through the opening of your robes to your bare bosom, cupping his hands around your full chest. “I ache for you, Namjoon. I have never felt such a desire before, have never sought out the affections of a man. In truth, I’m terrified, but not because of what you are, but because I have never crossed this line before.”

And Namjoon, still a man with carnal desires despite his blood lust, wants to be the one you cross that line with. He can feel the weight of your breasts as you move closer, stepping in such a way so that you can straddle him—which you do moments later. He feels his hands tighten around your chest without your fingers leading the motion, and the tiny, breathy moan that you release brushes against his lips from your proximity.

He’s hardening, lengthening; his cock pressing against your clothed heat and his fangs inching from his parted lips, both aching to open you up for him. And just as the circling press of your pert nipples to the pads of his thumbs begins, you cover his mouth with yours, moaning for his ears only as you lean into his touch at all junctions where your body touches his.

It’s intoxicating; your scent wraps around him and the feel of your blood thrumming within your body as you tremble from the pure lust that seems to ooze from your pores as you, you! devour his lips with no care of his fangs. Your tongue is tentative, but curious—seeking to glide along his and taste all of him.

When you pull back, he presumes to breathe since he need not this human action, his fang nicks your tongue on retreat. That one drop makes his muscles spasm—you pull back from him faster as his touch turns painful for a moment and then you are flying, landing on the bed in a frenzy and in a blink Namjoon is pressed to the wall farthest from you, his fists clenched tightly as he holds himself back from you.

“There is…still much you need…to know and understand.” Namjoon strains to get the words out, actively fighting his thirst for his wife—for you—whose blood has never been tasted by another, and whose tight cunt has never been taken by another. “Please, walk slowly to the door and get the Huwon guards…”

“No, please, Namjoon, I want—”

“Now!” he roars, watching fear filter into your eyes as you spring from the bed and rush towards the door. With a speed rivaling light, he is in front of you before you can make it three steps from the bed. His predator instinct couldn’t allow you to leave the room now. Grasping you under your thighs, he lifts you effortlessly, drawing his nose along your neckline.

Instantly, your fear melts away from your body, leaving you boneless as he deposits you forcefully to the bed you just vacated.

“You will take me, and I will drink from you, and then, I will tell you everything, but I can’t…can’t let you go. I must have you.”

🥀🥀🥀Taelani🥀🥀🥀

The gentle husband whom you had straddled mere moments before, who had kissed you with a softness that you have never known, was no longer the man above you. Instead, a predator climbs onto the covers as you scramble backwards, but his hand grips your wrist and slides you along the silk sheets back underneath his body.

His hands box in your head, with his knees bracing either side of your hips. Your heart is pounding, and you freeze beneath him, finally understanding why he said to walk slowly.

“Grandfather, what do I do if I encounter a bear or something of the like in the forest?” Five-year-old Taelani asks as she walks along her family grounds with her maternal grandpa.

“My dear Taelani, you must never run if you encounter a large animal. Predators are wired to chase after prey. Be steadfast, like a deer or a hare. Freeze and watch first. They may not mean you any harm, but if you should run, they cannot stop themselves.”

Going stockstill seems to work, just as you remembered learning about as a child. Namjoon mimics this, freezing his own body and his dilated eyes close as he leans closer into you and…inhales.

“I’m sorry, but I—I need to feed.” His voice is tense, a quiet murmur that fills the silence.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you say, proffering your own neck. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“This is not—I wanted this to be different, I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve—”

“—a husband who will make love to me, and feed from only me. Because I am yours, and you are mine.”

His eyes open with a blazing, hungry stare and before you can do anything else, he descends on your lips with a fierceness. His hands move from the sheets to your robe, ripping it open to expose your dusky nipples to the chilled air. He grips the hem of the clothing preventing you from full nudity and all but destroys it as he pulls it from your body in a feral show of strength.

“Mine.” His words are a low growl before his mouth is once again on yours, this time his hands now free to roam your body without clothing to hinder him. His deft hands move in symmetry to cup your breasts, giving them a supple squeeze before drifting down your hips and he moves his body lower along yours so he can hook his arms around the backs of your thighs.

The silks beneath you allow him to easily slip between your skin and the satin, giving him the right angle to push your legs up and bare all to him. You shiver in anticipation, feeling how wet you are by the air now meeting the heat between your thighs. You want him. The throbbing of your clit makes you want to clench your thighs together for some relief, but the way he’s holding you won’t allow it.

His kisses trail lower, mouth hovering over your nipple until his lengthened teeth graze the sensitive skin. Arching your back, he takes this as a sign to suck the peak into his mouth, tongue swirling as you moan. He switches sides, treating them equally before continuing lower, tongue dancing across your navel. The caress of the wet muscle has your body jumping with desire.

“Oh!” You can hardly keep quiet when his tongue tastes you, laving flat across your open warmth before making short, quick passes along your clit. Your hands grip the sheets in desperation—for him to stop, for him to continue—the pleasure is overwhelming.

“You taste…divine,” his voice rumbles, and you try to keep your eyes on him but squeeze them shut when his mouth returns to devour you. Sensual, plump lips kissing you, sucking you, tongue fucking you—you writhe beneath him. His hands press you wider, keeping you open as your muscles fight against the pleasure and threaten to close around his head.

And he doesn’t stop. Not until you're dripping, and the lower half of his face is glistening with you. You barely register his movements, can barely tell that he’s naked and climbing above you until he’s suddenly in your eyeline. Floating…that’s what this feeling is, like floating on a cloud, carefree. And when the blunted tip of his cock nudges at your still quivering heat, you widen your legs and welcome him, urging him to fill you.

And, oh! You don’t expect the pressure to build as he thrusts within you, and you cry out in pain, in pleasure, in ecstasy at the fullness he brings as your walls quiver around him.

Your hands tighten on his shoulders as he begins to move with more gusto, continuing to keen at the feeling—all of the feelings—and slowly the pain lessens and he glides with less stilted motion, bottoming out again and again and again.

A rhythmic chanting sounds, and it takes a few moments for you to recognize your own voice, so laced with desire and lust, pleading for him. “Please, gods, don’t stop, please!” along with a guttural reply, “I won’t,” filling the bed chamber that surely the others in the palace must be awake and able to hear. Namjoon appeases your request and his hips continue to piston fluidly, his strong thighs creating a cacophony of sounds as they meet the backs of yours.

An inhale, sharp and stilting—a grunt, with hips stuttering—his fangs piercing the tender skin at the crook of your neck as you feel the blood weeping from your vein as he drinks deeply of you. And you shatter from the ecstasy, like a fallen vase of porcelain, pieces scattering like twinkling stars across the galaxy in a vibrant bursting of flames.

🥀

“I am…older than I look.” You lay with your head upon Namjoon’s chest, fingers dancing along the smooth, glistening skin of his chest. His voice reverberates in your head as his low timbre continues. “And I am not truly the Queen Mother’s son, but her relative.”

You tilt your head to look up at him.

“I died a little over 50 years ago. Many of my family within these walls are like me. Forever frozen in time. When my father was just a boy in 1390, his uncles and aunts all fell ill of the fever. One by one, they passed away, and his father, fearing death, sought out the answer to life. When all was said and done, the only one to survive the fever was my grandfather’s youngest brother. In order to secure his place on the throne, stories spread that the youngest son killed all of his older siblings for power. In reality, my grandfather helped spread this and protected him all the while from assassination attempts.”

Looking with wide eyes at him, you almost can’t believe that what he says is true. Almost.

“This became our family’s mission. To protect the youngest sibling's line. For all of the children born to the older siblings who did not pass from the fever, upon approaching their 30th year and after having a family if they so wished, would endure the change and live forever. We have grown in our numbers and have always worked to protect the one line that history can know about. The Queen Mother’s great-grandfather is that youngest sibling. Merely days before I took the throne, her son, the true heir, was murdered.”

With a gasp, you sit up, clutching the satin sheets to your naked breasts.

“In order to hide that this attempt was successful, I stepped into his place and took the throne. And the Queen Mother will have another child, one who we will raise as our own and be the next successor, rightfully restoring the line to power once more.”

“I have so many questions, I can’t even begin to list them!” you pout, stifling a yawn at the late hour. You understand that you will have to raise the Queen Mother’s son as your own child so that the correct lineage remains on the throne, but what of your own children?

“We have plenty of time for your questions, my love. Maybe I shall answer some of them as I tell you more?”

As Namjoon continues to regale you with his tale, spelling out exactly how your lives will be, you settle back into his body and listen intently to his deep tenor rumbling against your cheek, curling your naked body around his own, until you fall asleep.

🥀🥀🥀

Epilogue

Eighteen years have passed since Taelani first entered the palace as Namjoon’s concubine.

Eighteen years since you learned the truth about your husband and his family, and full of questions and curious for more information, had kept him up the following nights with all of your thoughts until he lay you down and forced you quiet with his lips on yours and his hands seeking other truths between your legs.

Now, you are a mother to twins—at least, as far as the kingdom was concerned. Your daughter, Seojin, is truly yours and Namjoon’s, a miracle that even Namjoon’s family had not anticipated. Due to most everyone else in his family waiting until they had chosen a mate and had kids to turn, this was an unprecedented event. And Seojin’s twin brother, Jiho—though not truly siblings—but instead cousins, is the answer to keeping the family line on the throne.

Queen Mother Sindeok had hidden away, where she bore a son and then quietly returned to the palace with you and Namjoon, cradling a secret that only your family knew. A secret that she bundled tightly for the trip back and handed into your arms a mere day before your Seojin was born.

By royal decree, the news of the double royal birth spread across the lands, and in short, the Queen Mother’s pregnancy had never happened. Instead, Taelani, beloved Queen Consort to King Namjoon, had given birth to twins—a boy and a girl, heirs to a prosperous future. Together, the twins' birth was celebrated by the populace and secured the power that Namjoon’s grandfather had cultivated over the years, maintaining their hold of the throne their line refused to give up.

The birth of your twins also made sure that your father no longer tried to challenge the current rulers for power over the people. The Chief Councilor must have immediately withdrawn his money and support of the rival factions, as their attacks and their false propaganda dwindled to almost nonexistence.

With the belief that his grandson would take the throne, as the twin who was born minutes before his sister, your father seemed to think better of his past alliances, and instead made to be a better grandfather to them than he was a father to you, in the hopes that his name would be next to theirs in historical records as a formative familial link to the throne.

You still watched over his actions, even now, knowing that he may no longer hunger for the death of the emperor, but that his gusto for power and manipulation was never far from the surface. You and Namjoon had raised your children well though, teaching them to think for themselves and avoid manipulation tactics from even the most persuasive of grandparents.

At eighteen, Seojin showed no outward signs of her father’s affliction, but for a glint in her eyes that she could do more, hear more, see more, smell more—than her human counterparts. Her brother Jiho was smart, empathetic, and set to be a great ruler, carrying on the legacy his forefathers set before him.

It may have been a little over a decade since you joined your husband in an everlasting life, but you have never regretted that decision, not even for a moment. Standing next to him as he pens his speech for Jiho’s coronation, you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair as you stare out at the full moon, large against the backdrop of the stars and dark clouds.

“My love, come to bed,” you suggest, wanting to lay with him, to embrace him, to love him.

“One more line and I’ll join you,” he promises with a smirk. He still looks the same, jovial eyes crescenting as his lips quirk up at you. “Strip, and I’ll make sure to keep you warm.”

His lustful gaze watches as you step backwards towards the bed, eyes staying on his face.

A few moments later, he replaces his quill and caps the ink, fingers tugging at his pants to loosen them from his waist. Your giggles carry with the evening breeze as it whistles quietly through the slats in the window, rustling the parchment Namjoon was writing on and drying the last lines he had written.

“And for our country, with Yi Jiho as emperor, this nation will finally have all we have fought for: strength, power, and a promising future.”

And for you and Namjoon, your sacrifices eighteen years ago continue the legacy of a kingdom destined to be ruled by a lineage of

eternal reign.

197 notes · View notes

hisunshiine · 2 years ago

Note

ELLA 🥺 i appreciate you so much.

what are your top 5 favorite jungkook fics that you have read?

Oooh exciting!! I read a lot of fics and forget a lot of them in a blink of an eye bc I have the memory of a gold fish but those that marked me are (in no particular order):

Boyfriend of my dreams by @soft4gguk. Unfortunately, this author hasn't been active on here for months, and I think the last update for this fic was over a year ago but I really loved it even tho it's unfinished. Tessa, if you see this I'm sending you lots of love <3

strictly platonic by @jeonqkooks, a oneshot with one of my fav tropes, aka best friends to lovers

Colour Me In by @taegularities, an ongoing series that is actually the reason why I started reading and posting again (also the reason why my blog exists at all)

Jungkook's storyline of @magicshopaholic's idol verse, which I read during the months of may and june, and loved so so much. All the members' storyline are still ongoing and I promise you will love it if you give it a chance

and last but not least, read super recently but Ambrosia & Nectar by @hisunshiine. As a lover of Greek mythology, that one just hit a chord inside of me (plus the smut is magnificent)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook writings #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #hisunshiine reblog

242 notes · View notes

lo1k-diamonds · 27 days ago

Text

Down Bad 💜 PJM (Part 1)

Kissing you was not on the agenda, and it threw him off. How the fuck was he supposed to let go of you now?

PAIRING: Vampire!Jimin x human(f)reader

SUMMARY: You find the cure to your clumsiness in becoming Jimin’s dance partner. But twirling in his arms risks more than just your heart, especially after he bites you.

WORD COUNT: 18.7k (Total: 31.5 k)

GENRE: Soulmates AU, angst, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: typical vampire-related warnings (blood, biting, scents, feral moments), arguing, fighting, graphic depictions of cuts, bites, and wounds (including blood), angst, multiple smut scenes (unprotected sex), including praise kink, oral (f rec), penetrative sex, pleading, bit of a dom!Jimin

A.N. Here we have it, my Christmas gift this year. For some reason, I've been... unexpectedly insecure about my writing, so this story was somewhat... more difficult to perfect than usual. I'd like to thank @downbad4yoongi, @pars-ley, @colormepurplex2 and @hisunshiine for working through it with me and helping me reach this final version - by far the most fleshed-out and intriguing, even if it became huge. Also thank you to @itaeewon for the beautiful banner! This is my entry in the upcoming @bangtanwritershq 4th Quarter Writing Event: Monster Mash!

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

“Hey! Good to see you!”

You smiled at Jung Hoseok and adjusted the strap of your gym bag on your shoulder with a small smile. His pearly whites showed a gorgeous smile that once wouldn’t have had you wondering how he hid his nature so well.

“He’s already here in the backroom with a few other contestants,” Hoseok continued as he circled the reception counter of his gym to reach you. “Do you need help with anything? Need to change?”

“Changed at home,” you replied quietly, motioning the hands still inside the pockets of your closed coat. It was freezing outside due to the snow, and you still didn’t have the guts to open it up. Your toes were blueish from the chill, and you wiggled them a little; maybe you shouldn’t have put on your open-toed heels before coming.

“Alright, good.” He nodded affably before raising his hand in the direction of the corridor you knew so well. Still, he walked side by side with you, intending to escort you. “How was your Christmas?”

You told him about your grandmother’s wailing, entirely compensated by her delicious cooking, and how you helped your sister with your baby nephew. “He just looks at me with such wide eyes, and I instantly feel like a fraud, you know?”

You huffed, a bit discouraged, as Hoseok laughed and pushed the door open.

“There she is.” Taehyung grinned, skipping in your direction. He was the image of tall perfection, hiding a soft teddy bear personality underneath his dazzling eyes and handsome features. Some were just born like this, and you doubted his nature was the only reason for it. “I thought you might get cold feet.”

“My feet are pretty cold,” you mumbled, looking down, and he chuckled, eying Hoseok, who was smiling too.

“Are you ready?”

Taehyung towered over you as he stood by your side and waved Hoseok away, and the strain on your neck from looking up reminded you of how this was supposed to be different. How you had been excited about this moment for a year; trained, planned, dreamt of it… Only for it to turn out so different.

Only for that uncomfortable strain to make you grimace slightly and press your fingers into the back of your neck. “Yeah, let’s warm up.”

You let him guide you across the room, then put your bag down and draped your coat over a chair, revealing your red, sparkling dress that ended just above your knee. You had to rub your arms for some warmth, and Taehyung waited for you without touching you, and you appreciated him for it. You knew he wouldn’t do anything inappropriate, but…

You sighed and raised your arms, signaling you were ready, and he grabbed your hand. He spun you a few times to loosen you up, then pulled you closer to start what you instinctively assumed were a few of your Cha-cha-cha choreography moves.

It wasn’t enough to pull your thoughts away from the pit they invariably fell back into. Taehyung wasn’t the problem; he had always been respectful and treated you with utmost care. Jimin picked him after everything that happened, and you trusted his judgement. After all, Jimin—

You were twirled across the dance floor, spinning beautifully with your delicate arms floating at your sides as you were supposed to, but then you gasped. Your heels didn't find purchase on the floating wood floor; you were spinning too fast. You couldn’t discern Taehyung in the blur around you nor call out to him, overwhelmed as you were. Your arms flailed, further taking you off course, and suddenly, a smear of a reflection caught your eye right before your right side collided with an immovable object. Whatever you smashed into sent you sprawling on the floor in an unceremonious heap.

You groaned and closed your eyes to avoid the wave of nausea that threatened to sweep over you, then felt a few shattered glass pieces falling from above you like a short drizzle. For a second, you were too dazed to comprehend what just happened. But then you winced and sat up, feeling countless prickling sensations all over your leg, arm, shoulder, and even your cheek.

You winced as something sharp dug into your skin, and you turned your palm up. Dusting off whatever debris and mirror glass had bothered you there made you aware of the big glass shard nestled into your arm's soft flesh.

Someone kneeled beside you, but you didn’t hear them. Your first instinct was to remove the foreign body from your arm, and as the glass clinked on the floor, you gasped.

“Shit!” You were surprised, pressing your palm to your arm to stop the torrent of dark crimson blood.

It dripped between your fingers, and you looked up, searching for help, but what you found cooled you to the bone. Taehyung had shifted back, still on his knees, and one look into his eyes told you everything you needed to know before your eyes drifted across the other contestants. Some were the same as him, hence why they were frozen, unnaturally static as they observed you.

Your eyes turned back to Taehyung; he winced, and that was good enough for you.

You jumped to your feet with as much speed as you could muster, regardless of pain, and stormed out of there without bothering to look back. Sounds of struggle still reached your ears before the heavy doors closed behind you, but you kept running down the hallway. People would stop to look at you; some were frozen inside their classes or in the machines room, and so you kept running with fear gripping your heart. You couldn’t tell how they were looking at you, seeing that there were one-way mirrors between you. No one should know you were on this side, running, and yet there they were, with their eyes fixed on your rushing form. It made your stomach twist, and suddenly, it felt as though everyone was the predator, with only you left as the prey.

You rushed for the exit but quickly realized by the looks of the people you crossed along the way that you’d never make it. You knew what the sting of a bite felt like, but at that time you were elated, in love; this would be different. You were safe with Jimin, no matter what he said, but he wasn't here. He left you, and those were different.

This would be the death of you.

So, in a last-ditch effort, you swerved left and disappeared behind a door that said, Staff Only. You raced down the stairs and reached the basement, where a boiler room lay quietly under the purr of plenty of machines. You didn’t care how dark and damp it was; you used your whole strength and body weight to push the old, stuck metal door closed, then pulled the lever into place so the door would be locked.

Your heart raced inside your chest louder than the machines, and as your breathing calmed, you considered if maybe your reaction was disproportionate.

But then a smack to the door, what sounded like someone trying to push it open, startled you into jumping away from it. You could swear you heard hisses and growls, though who knew over the noise? Still, you backed away to the opposite corner and sat on the floor, curling your knees to your chest, and fought the tears as you pressed your wound again.

You had no idea how to get yourself out of this one. Maybe a friendly vampire would come to get you out.

14 months earlier

“Take my hand.”

Jiyu’s voice from above made you sniffle and look around. The waiter you collided harshly with was already sitting up and apologizing profusely while he stayed on his knees to collect the glass and porcelain shards all over the floor. A few colleagues of his were helping him and while the manager tried apologizing to you, and Jiyu smiled and reassured her, you kept your eyes low.

The entrance bell chimed with the old lady you had dodged leaving the café slowly, and your eyes fell on the treacherous step responsible for the whole ordeal.

“Hey,” Jiyu called your name, drawing your attention to her hand. You finally took it and allowed her to pull you to stand. “Are you burned?”

You looked down; besides the brown stains and whipped cream on your white blouse, you were fine.

“I’m not, it’s fine.”

She nodded, a sigh of relief crossing her lips quietly, before she ran a hand through her long, black hair. “This can't continue. I mean it,” she insisted when you scoffed playfully. This was your daily life; you were too clumsy to take two steps without tripping. “I don't think you'll survive me moving out.”

“I’ll be fine,” you retorted automatically.

You knew of her worries about you, but it was becoming silly. Sure, you were the type to collide with waiters, almost get run over by bikes, and constantly have things go wrong. But that didn’t mean Jiyu should not move in with her fiancé just to stay by your side.

After a million apologies from both the waiter and you, Jiyu finally opened the door for you to exit into the early evening ahead of her. The bell chimed above her head, and she said, “You know what? You’re coming with me.”

“Where?” you asked curiously.

“My Zumba class,” she revealed as she laced her arm with yours.

You were effectively dragged with her. “No, I’m— I’m not good at it and— I’m not sporty like you and—”

“Maybe that’s the problem!”

Her humor didn’t resonate with you as you both crossed the street to make your way to your apartment. “But I have nothing to wear!”

She snorted, “But I do.” She could feel your shoulders squaring as you walked stiffly beside her, and she poked you with her elbow. “Come on, it will be fun! I promise!”

When two hours later your ass met the floor for the fourth time that day, you groaned and knew it would be blue and sore in the morning. You were confused, not about sitting on the floor, but by the turn of events. Exercising was supposed to help you, but you couldn’t follow the instructor’s directions while moving and making sure to stay in your assigned spot. Jiyu was next to you and tried helping, but you stumbled over your own feet. Not even she could save you from yourself.

And her worried eyes as she reached out to check on you only made you feel worse.

“Maybe you should rest a bit.”

You accepted the instructor's hand to get back on your feet and left the room, hearing them resume class as you grabbed your things and wandered off to the reception to wait for Jiyu.

“Hey!”

You turned to look at the tall, gentle-smiled man at the reception. Jiyu had called him Hoseok, and he was very nice — he owned the place and let you try the class for free.

“Shouldn’t you be in class? It’s not eight yet.” He checked the clock on the wall behind him before turning back to you with raised eyebrows above inquisitive eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“I just… I’m no use,” you confessed with tearing eyes and a quivering chin. You were tired and sad, and Jiyu was probably disappointed besides worried.

“What? Nonsense! How about coffee? Come with me.”

You normally wouldn’t have gone, but you were feeling so low that it was easy to drag your feet behind him into a new hallway. He was cheerful and comforted you the whole time as he took you to the staff break room, even taking your arm to pull you out of the way of a door that abruptly opened across the hall.

He sat down with you after pouring you both coffees, and as you explained your plight to him, he listened attentively.

“Hmmm,” he mused. “Jiyu had the right idea, but to start by attending an advanced Zumba class was not the right move. But dancing is definitely the way to go — it will strengthen your core muscles and help you with your coordination. How about private classes?”

You looked down at your half-drunk coffee and sulked further. “I don’t know.” You remembered the look on the waiter’s face, and your shoulders slumped. “How can I do that to them?”

“Who? The dance instructor?” Hoseok burst out laughing before giving you a gorgeous grin. “Don’t worry. He’s perfectly equipped to handle it. In fact, I know just the one. He can do miracles.”

He kept selling this trainer to you, mentioning the many dance competitions he had won and how he was the gentlest, most patient soul, having worked so hard to be such a good dancer, and eventually, you nodded. Your sad eyes raised to meet his, and you gritted your teeth in determination; you could do it. He was a professional, after all, and you wanted to fix this annoying trait about yourself.

A week after your first encounter with Hoseok, you were back at the gym for your first class and you were a bit nervous. Jiyu advised you to take comfortable clothes and sneakers, and you even picked an oversized jumper just so you could hide your hands in the sleeves in case you started picking at your nails or the skin surrounding them.

Hoseok walked you to the dance room and kept it casual, reassuring you that this would be great for you, and while you wanted to listen to him, you couldn’t. The most stunningly handsome man had just entered the room with the gentlest smile as he neared you both, and you forgot how to breathe. He talked about something with Hoseok, and you kept blinking up at him, mesmerized. He raked his fingers through dark, lush strands of hair to pull them out of equally dark eyes of such an intensity that your heart skipped a beat. And yet, while his eyes and beauty were off the charts, his smile was dazzling, gentle, and warm. Everything about him glowed grace and delicateness, especially as his soft hair fell over his eyes as he crouched, searching for something inside a duffel bag nearby. You couldn’t stop looking at him and wondered if you’d be so lucky to have him.

“Oh, this is Jimin,” Hoseok said apologetically, probably noticing you were lost. “He’ll be your instructor this evening.”

Jimin glanced at you and smiled, and your stomach did cartwheels, hitching your breath. Something warm made you flush as you shuddered from head to toe with a single thought in your head — him close, eyes closed, kissing you and nuzzling you like you were his whole world.

He got up, giving something to Hoseok, and you blinked, rubbing your cheeks in an effort to ground yourself. Those thoughts were completely inappropriate and—

“What’s your name?”

You peered up at him and stammered your name out.

He simply smiled again and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

You grabbed his hand with your eyes transfixed on his, and Hoseok raised an eyebrow beside you, shaking his head softly.

“You’re set, have an amazing time! And don’t be hard on yourself. You’re only just starting.”

Those last words as the door closed behind him broke your trance away and made you swallow dryly. Even then, you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of Jimin.

“He’s right.” Jimin smiled to put you at ease, but his next words made your stomach twist with nervousness. “I’ve heard you’re a bit clumsy.”

“That’s an understatement,” you mumbled instantly, and he smirked.

“Let’s see, shall we? I’ll turn the music on.”

You bit the inside of your lip as you tried to focus on his instructions, but it was hard. The fear of messing up was too great; you felt like a kid on the first day of school.

You should have known your clumsiness would have flared even harder in the presence of an instructor; you were as good as cursed. Tripping on your suddenly untied shoelaces after not even ten steps into the warm-up routine was just devastating.

At least until Jimin laughed and picked you up from the floor by pulling your hands. “Oh, I see. This is going to be fun.”

Your big eyes looked up at him in wonder, but then he kneeled, turning his gaze down so he could tie your shoes for you. Your cheeks flushed even more as you stammered quiet thank yous, and in a flash, he was done.

He smiled contentedly at you. “Ready?”

You hurried to get back in position by his side, and everything got back on track. That was possibly the first time you didn’t feel embarrassed or apologetic for tumbling down. On the contrary, you wanted to laugh it out, too.

When the class ended, you felt quite good about yourself. You were tired and sweaty, but your smile was as big as his. You couldn’t recall his words of encouragement throughout, or the amount of times you tripped or stumbled, only that you were dead set on feeling like that again. Especially by his side.

Hoseok entered the room not long after the music stopped. He found Jimin toweling his face as you drank water and seemed pleased. “So?”

Jimin looked at you, giving you a subtle nod to share your thoughts, and you tried not sounding as eager as you felt, “I liked it…”

Hoseok nodded as though he expected more information, and glancing at Jimin, he caught the hint of a hidden smile disappearing under the towel. “Alright… so, second class?��

“Sounds good,” Jimin agreed, putting the towel over his shoulders and hanging onto it. “In two days?”

You nodded as unenthusiastically as you could and, after settling a few details, left the two men to go home.

*****

Hoseok turned to Jimin as soon as you walked out the door and asked again, “How was it?”

Jimin’s eyes were still on the door. His silence made Hoseok tilt his head, intrigued by the weird turn of events. Your reaction to Jimin wasn’t entirely implausible — Jimin was undeniably charming; it was only natural to stare and drool. But Jimin’s reaction to you was odd. Why would he ask your name when Hoseok had already told him? Not to mention, Jimin was not the type to get close to his students. He was not touchy with them and was usually distanced and professional — so why would he choose to take your hand rather than just to bow? The way he lingered with that connection while looking at you was all the weirder, but it continued even now that you had left, with his eyes fixed on the door as though he could still see you walking away behind it.

Jimin finally licked his lips and grabbed his bag. “She’s…”

Jimin seemed distracted while he searched for words and Hoseok tried helping, “Clumsy—”

“A ray of—”

Hoseok’s eyebrows twitched in surprise. “What?”

Jimin began walking away, and it seemed to Hoseok like he wanted to escape that conversation.

So he followed him. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable because she’s—”

“No,” Jimin’s reply was instant as he stopped to face his hyung. “She’s just… the clumsiest ray of sunshine I’ve ever seen.”

Hoseok nodded slowly. “It’s not often we get to see that…”

Jimin’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing else, and Hoseok let him go. Both knew he was not just talking about the sun, but whatever else was happening, Jimin preferred to stay quiet.

12 months earlier

So you started your tri-weekly meet-ups. You appreciated Jimin agreeing always to have the class at the same time after dinner, which made it easier for you with work. No matter how many times you tripped on your feet or lost your balance from a simple side step, you didn’t give up. His hand catching you every time before you could get hurt was surely a reason for you to not hold back, but even as it became less necessary, you found he was always there, supporting you however you needed.

It started fun and cheeky, back when he still needed to catch you multiple times per lesson. Two months later, he still occasionally teased you about your stiff Hip Hop moves but never made you feel bad about yourself. On the contrary, he smirked every time you needed him and eyed you in this way that always warmed your cheeks, especially when an arm circled your waist or a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m going back to my hometown to visit my family for Christmas, so this is our last lesson of the year.” You smiled just as he stopped the music.

He returned to you with a gentle nod. “That sounds fun.”

You scoffed playfully, “Hardly. My older sister is pregnant, so I have no drinking buddy for New Year's Eve.”

He smirked as you put everything inside your duffel bag and got out a thin jacket. “Maybe you need a new one.” You put the jacket on despite still feeling so hot, and increasingly so; was he offering? “How about dancing with somebody new?”

You physically recoiled but disguised it as just adjusting the jacket before you grabbed your thick winter coat. “And risk stepping on their feet? No, thanks.”

“What if they want you to?”

You looked at him quizzically, and he raised his hands, beckoning you closer.

Your heartbeat still quickened whenever he’d look at you with that playful smile dancing on his lips, and as usual, you took his hand, letting him have his way.

He pulled you closer, causing you to lose your balance and step on his foot. You gasped, about to apologize and pull back, but he grinned and pulled your hand to force your balance to shift. Your foot pressed into his harder as your other foot raised from the floor, and he pulled you flush to his chest. Your other hand pressed to his firm chest, making you huff and look up. All that awaited you was a gentle smile and sparkling eyes. Then his eyebrows raised playfully, and you gasped.

You were floating. No, you were hovering. Your feet rested on his, lulling you to a mimicry of a slow dance. His arms stayed around your waist, supporting your back gently, and you looked up at him again with stars in your eyes. That was the first time you danced with someone.

The holidays came and went, as did the stroke of midnight, without a dance or a kiss in sight, but you didn’t want them. Jimin just chuckled when you revealed the lack of a dancing partner on those occasions, hence no reason to dance, but you had sheepishly shrugged. You didn’t want to dance with anyone else.

You realized you harbored feelings for your dance instructor. Almost three months into your classes, it was hard not to. Your sister noticed something was up; you were at ease with her and uninterested in partying, and she tried poking you, but you had nothing to say. Jiyu had suspicions, and once you told her the truth of the matter, she had just sighed. She had moved out with a clear conscience since you were at significantly less risk of injuring yourself, but now she was worried about something else.

“It’s harmless, innocent, I promise,” you told her when you visited her to see her new place.

“I just don’t like the power dynamic… You pay him to teach you, and he has a role of authority.”

“So… you’re saying he’d never look at me twice if he wasn’t paid to and that he has power over me because he can dance better than me?”

She huffed in frustration, “You know exactly what I mean.”

You shrugged. “You may be right on the first part—”

“That’s not what I—”

“— but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not paying him to go on dates with me. Nothing is ever going to happen, I know that.”

It hurt you a little bit to admit that, but you were at peace with it. You thought there was no harm in your crush until you realized that every week of improvement brought the inevitable end to your classes. Of course, he would have better things to do than spend three hours a week with you. After all, being less clumsy did not make you a worthy dance partner for such a fantastic professional.

But to your surprise, he suggested something else once you could do Zumba, Hip Hop, and Cize.

“I want us to try this,” he suggested with his bottom lip between his teeth as he showed you a colorful poster. It featured a couple entwined in a dance, and reading it, you gasped.

“What?”

“It’s a regional competition of Latin dance styles. I’d like us to participate.”

You widened your eyes at him. “I can’t do that!”

“Would I have suggested it if I didn’t know you could?”

His intense dark eyes felt like a caress down your neck, and you sighed. “If you think so…”

“I know so.” He put down the poster, and you shrugged.

“I guess we can try—”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you closer. “We can do it. We have the whole year to train.”

Your heart was beating so fast, flushed to his chest again while looking up at him. Naively, you thought maybe he also didn’t want the lessons to end. He surely didn’t have to be so enthusiastic about it, telling you all about his ideas for the competition. He had so many ideas, he had already taken notes of some choreography moves he wanted to train with you and the styles he thought would suit you best. Jimin was excited about spending the next year training with you, and it made you smile.

10 months earlier

“Ugh, it’s just no use!”

You pushed yourself off Jimin and turned away with annoyance gritting your teeth. Your dress swooshed around you as the taps that always accompanied your steps made you cringe, and even Jimin's soft voice didn’t make it go away.

“Stop worrying about it.”

“I can’t!”

You couldn’t even face him; you didn’t want him to see your tears of frustration.

“Why not?”

He respected your need for space, staying exactly where you left him, and you bit your tongue.

One of Jimin’s worst ideas was for you to wear heels to every class from the moment you agreed to the competition. He said it was necessary, otherwise you’d have different mindsets attached to different shoes, and you believed him, but damn. You struggled to get used to it; you felt the looming threat of falling more sharply than ever before, even months later.

He caught you every time, of course, but you kept stepping on him like just now and it just unnerved you. You weren’t good enough to dance by his side, to be by his side, to—

A sob shook you silently, and you looked at the ceiling so you wouldn’t cry. “I’ll just embarrass you.”

His chuckle from behind you shook you more than his touch on your arm as he spun you around.

“You won’t. You’ll be perfect.” His smile was dazzling as his hands settled back on your waist, and heat emerged on your cheeks instantly.

You couldn’t help it, no matter how many times he had pulled you close to him like that in the last couple of months. It was part of the routine, of course, but your silly, palpitating heart didn’t know better.

He tapped your temple with a fingertip. “You’re so much better than you think you are.”

You stared at him with stars in your eyes and thought for the hundredth time how it was impossible not to have a crush on him.

“Let’s go again, come on. Ready?” He smiled softly like he always did before resuming the lesson, and you nodded, also accepting it was all it would ever be. A silly crush on your dance instructor turned dance partner.

As you let him twirl you around as he pleased with every new step of the choreography you were training, trusting him wholeheartedly, you considered that he didn’t make it any easier for you. He didn’t have to tease you about the perks of wearing heels — you could finally reach his chin — or about how you spun so beautifully into his arms. He made a point of saying it, praising you every time you twirled and landed softly back into his arms, and you had to remind yourself constantly that he was just doing his job.

Jimin always held you and spun you like the world was that room, making you feel confident and beautiful, at least until your thoughts got in the way.

You almost tripped with the last step, but he pulled on your hand harder, making sure you landed safely against his chest. He kept you in his arms, both of you winded as you recovered.

He pulled away and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face, trying to look at you, and whispered, “Are you okay?”

You closed your eyes and nodded, always appreciating that contact and closeness more than you probably should. You never said anything about it, even now that he took longer and longer to let you go.

“Let’s repeat that last set,” he finally said as he gently let go of you.

You agreed and glued your eyes to the floor, trying to purge your thoughts so you could focus properly.

He restarted the music a bit before the set he was talking about, then returned to you. “Ready?”

His attentive eyes always made sure you were, and you nodded and raised your hand. He took it, restarting the dance on the right beat after a short countdown.

You were focused, concentrated not only on your feet or the choreography, but also on your balance. Yet, that last move was tricky; you tripped.

He caught you at the last second, his firm grip the only thing between you and the wood floor. Then, he held you to him again, only this time, he fitted your legs around him like a koala bear in his arms.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing your hair away so he could look at you.

You nodded, not once worried or hurt despite his strength, and rubbed your cheek against his, appreciating his closeness yet again. Suddenly, though, it was gone. A set of plump lips gently brushed your skin instead, tracing your flushed, sweaty cheek, covering you in goosebumps until his lips found yours.

You trembled in his arms, barely believing that feather-like touch was gracing your mouth, but it was as sure as his firm hold on you. It wasn’t an accident or a mishap because he kept going; he brushed your hair aside and kissed your lips softly as though he had wanted to do that for a long time.

You’d never forget the look in his eyes when you pulled away, needing to breathe but, most of all, to believe that it was really happening. His eyes had a fierceness to them, making you wonder about his thoughts: what did he make of this?

A surge of emotions whirled through you as he carried you across the room. He sat down and simply held you on his lap, and that class ended like that — with you both letting that closeness sink in.

7 months earlier

Jimin should never have kissed you, he knew that. Once he did, the truth was out, and it could never be ignored again — his feelings weren’t platonic.

For as long as he held you in that firm embrace afterward, his mind was ravished by thoughts of inevitability and fate.

At first, he didn’t believe it. He didn’t even know it could happen. He had heard the stories about his kind finding their muses, those special humans one would find in a lifetime whose spirit spoke to a vampire uniquely, but he figured them to be rumors. Dreams ushered by the elders to keep the younglings from going too crazy, in case they happened to touch one such human and make their matching vampire mad.

But then he met you, and certain things just made sense to him. He could never get tired of your stumbles, your scent awoke his senses, and when you moved near him, he just answered in tandem. But what made him certain, despite his initial denial, was that when you smiled, he saw light. Not concrete light, but a glimmer that he had never seen before and that he couldn’t help longing to see again.

He was inspired; he convinced himself the days spent planning your classes and how he could make you shine even more and brighter were due to your improvement, not his need to think about you incessantly. The competition was an excuse to keep working together, and he had given it so much thought and planning, he had most of the choreography figured out before you even said yes.

But then he kissed you, even when he promised himself he didn’t need that, and that he’d stay away for your sake. Of course, beautiful stories about the eternal love between a muse and a vampire were still told, but so were the cautionary tales. Sometimes, things went wrong, be it because of jealousy, unbridled fascination, or tragedy. Undoubtedly, there was always hurt — for the human, whose life would never be the same again, and for the vampire, whose existence would forever spin around one single axis. Once, he thought that was ludicrous. Who’d want that? But now he had met you, and he didn’t want anyone else. The very thought seemed senseless.

But he vowed to stay away from you for your sake — if you never got involved, you’d never have to suffer through such things. You’d never fully step into his world, and you’d be able to live your human life to its full extent.

Kissing you was not on the agenda, and it threw him off. How the fuck was he supposed to let go of you now?

He tried, though. You kept coming to class and, while he was perhaps a bit more attentive than before, he kept the space between you. He focused hard on the choreography, wanting to make sure you’d shine as brightly as he knew you could. It did sadden him that you never mentioned the kiss, but he would never bring it up and make you uncomfortable — seeing you smile as you twirled around was all he needed.

He thought that was all you needed, too, but then you showed him it wasn’t so. In the third class after he had first tasted you, you twirled into his arms as part of the choreography, but then you grabbed his cheeks and crashed your mouths together.

Your kiss was hot and hungry as your hips swiveled together with his, and he lost his mind. He grabbed you closer and groaned into your mouth, desperately drinking every drop of your taste. Even with his eyes closed, he could see light in the darkness, no matter how faint, and the enticement was powerful. The more you kissed him, the more his heart gave in, quickly promising you everything you could ever desire, even if rationally he knew he shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t.

That day, as you smiled up at him, he convinced himself that a middle ground was possible — he could just give.

The intimacy of what you were doing was undeniable, he could recognize that. Dancing like you two did, touching and breathing closely, brought you close. But as he took you on that learning journey with each new step in your routine, he figured he could give you whatever you’d ask and keep himself in check. That way, he’d keep you safe and free and content, and he wouldn’t break his promise.

He started with the Cha-cha-cha choreography as the first dance of the competition. The dance was playful and flirtatious, and you focused very hard on each distinct step so you could claim an unspoken reward — stolen kisses.

Then came the Rumba, with smooth, flowing movements that had your heart beating intensely inside your chest; he could hear it. Every time he pulled you closer and guided your hips close to his, he noticed your blood rushing to your cheeks and who knew where else, deepening your breath. Often, he glued his nose to your cheek or touched your foreheads together as he moved your waist in movements that made his imagination fly, despite his self-castigation. The kisses that followed became fiery hot in time, and although he felt the urge to dive deeper into you every time, he always held back.

Surprisingly, Tango was the hardest for you. After seeing how you excelled at the others, he thought it would have been easier. Even though he insisted it was all about trust and letting go, the intricate footwork and required precision drove you insane. You had to worry about your feet all the time, and it just didn’t work. You confessed you were a bit overwhelmed, but he wouldn’t give it up. That just meant more training and more time to be close to you.

“Stop worrying,” he said, swinging your bodies around with your chests glued together. “You’ll always land on your feet, or I’ll catch you.”

You swallowed and nodded.

“Keep your back arched, and I’ll spin us.”

With your heart racing, you did before he pulled you firmly back into his arms.

“Raise your leg.” He raised your knee to his waist. “When I pull your hand up like this, it’s your cue to bend back. Our feet are locked, and I’ll grab this leg.” He tapped on your knee around him, “and arm as you reach back to the floor. I have you,” he promised, and you let go slowly.

You didn’t dare bend too far back, but he caught you just as if you had, swaying you for a second before giving you the cue to step away and mirror him.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now close.”

You knew you were supposed to raise your hand and bring it slowly behind his head, gluing your foreheads, and you did, but then you stopped. He did the same, with his eyes focused on yours, not half as winded as you.

He kept you close and connected, eyes fixed on every line of your face. “That’s it, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t blush any more than you already had, but you could try and pretend it was just the exertion.

“We’ll get there,” he assured you. “Soon, you’ll be ready for me to raise you high and spin you around.”

You raised your wide eyes. “I can’t do that!”

He smiled. “You can.”

“No!”

“How else am I supposed to show you off?” Your lips parted in shock as he brushed your flushed cheek with all the sweetness in the world. “This is all about you and letting you shine. No one will be able to take their eyes off of you.”

“But I’m not the experienced dancer here,” you whined, confused.

“No, but you are exquisite.” He pressed you harder against him; that close embrace wasn’t enough. “Irresistible, delectable even, and you’ll show it with every move of your hips,” his words were slow, pausing to guide you with a deliberate, deep hip swivel. “Every time your heel touches the floor.” He leaned you back ever the slightest, and the tap echoed loudly in your heart. “And every time you hold your breath, making them all wait…”

He smiled and you blinked, dazzled. Your body was moving, responding to his every push, pull, and subtle shift in weight and pressure. You could be coordinated and sharp if you didn’t think about it. Letting him direct you into raising your leg around him and falling backward, arching your back to the max with tension stretching you from head to toe.

He smiled, pulling you back, and you fell into his arms, his lips finding yours.

You kissed him as passionately, reveling in the way he had sought your kiss for the first time in a while. You didn’t doubt he liked it when you touched him, but you had felt discouraged about being the one always searching for him. After a while, it made you hesitate, wondering if you were stepping over the line and making him uncomfortable, and so that untamed kiss washed away your worries.

Not only that, but it gave you the green light to feel more. You didn’t just want his company, his attention and affection; you wanted to fulfill that tension, that unspoken promise. He wasn’t just showing you that you could dance. He showed you that you could do it — you could dance by his side and be, too.

Your mouths never parted, with tongues sharing desires and heavy breaths never quite deeply enough. You couldn’t care less about breathing, though; you were burning up, gripping his shirt over his shoulders as you ground your hips still pressed to his.

Your back hit the mirror, making you gasp in surprise, yet as he kissed down your jawline and neck, you smiled. It was as though he had finally stopped resisting and touched you like flames licking at your silhouette. One of your legs surrounded him, welcoming his excitement rubbing your core deliciously, and you moaned, ready to ignite.

Only he pulled away and tried to breathe despite your lips on his cheek lowering to his neck.

“I can't.”

He sounded tortured and your blood froze. Your head fell back to the mirror to face him, not hiding the fear taking hold of you at his words. Why couldn’t he—

“No, it’s not that,” he reassured you, whispering as he cupped your cheek. “I just—” He was breathless and lost, and looking into your sparkling eyes, he finally gave in, “Not here. Not like this. It— It wouldn't be right.”

“Come home with me, then.”

Your whisper had him looking into your eyes with a glint of anxiety. “If you’re sure.”

You smiled. “I am.”

*****

That night, you took Jimin home. He hesitated to pass the threshold of your apartment, and you just grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. That simple gesture was enough for him to settle his hands on your waist and his lips on yours.

You weren’t just kissing or stripping as your lips and tongue tasted, your skin rampant with goosebumps and your core wet with need. You were connected; every press of his fingers guided you, while every brush of his plump lips over your exposed skin conveyed secrets. Elation made your heart sing. Your senses were heightened; every whisper shook you, and every graze set you alight.

He let you touch him and explore however you liked, even when your fingers first traced down his neck and onto his shoulders, gripping his muscles through his shirt. His response was instant, pulling you closer, deepening your kiss, urging you with sweet whispers to keep going, and you didn’t hesitate. You pulled every article of clothing from his body greedily, entertaining his kisses while you waited. Anticipation made your heart thrum faster until the last barrier disappeared.

The white tee shirt fell on your carpeted floor with a muffled sound, contrasting your silent focus. His body was firm, his skin flawless under your gentle touch. You don’t think you had ever felt the urge to touch and know someone like this before, and you blamed it on his perfect body. Why was his chest so smooth, with round dark nipples, while his stomach was delineated with taut muscles on a delicate frame?

You shook your head and quickly dragged your fingers up his chest to his shoulders to pull him close, falling into a passionate kiss as you placed his hands on the hem of your shirt. He felt slightly cold to the touch, and you wanted to heat him up. Luckily, with the way he followed your kiss, you doubted it would take long. You guided him to your bedroom between kisses, leaving your clothes and inhibitions behind, and parted your lips from his only when you sat on the bed.

You moved back on your elbows with your eyes on his, offering yourself clearly to him despite the way you were trembling. His eyes drank you up silently, tracing every line and curve of yours so intensely you could feel his scorching gaze. Your nipples perked as your chest heaved under his gaze, aching for him before his eyes trailed lower, below your navel. You weren’t shy about opening your legs more, letting him see how dripping wet you were for him, and that was when you noticed his fists beside his hips, and a raging boner matching the tension on his features.

You raised your hand, ready to coax him to come closer when he seemingly relaxed. He kneeled on the bed and traced down your legs as he settled between them.

“Jimin,” you pleaded, needing him closer.

Yet he simply nuzzled down your inner thigh. “Not yet, little light. This is all about you.”

You whimpered, needing his touch all over you, and as he pecked your delicate skin, you trembled from head to toe in anticipation.

“Slowly,” he whispered, and you squirmed a little. He looked up, only to find your hands taking your breasts in full, squeezing them, and his eyes darkened. “That’s it. Touch them, make yourself feel good.” He traced the back of your thighs with his fingers until he squeezed your ass, making your legs open limply. “So perfect,” he murmured, tracing kisses just a little closer to where you wanted him, but not yet. “I wish I could squeeze all of you at the same time,” he sighed, and looking up, hummed. “Do that again, little light.”

You squeezed your breasts again, and a sensual moan fell from your lips.

“That’s it, so good… pinch them. Come on.” He smiled, grazing his teeth on the junction between your thigh and sex. You trembled and did as he said, pressing your nipples between your fingers, only to hump your hips toward him. He laughed darkly against your skin, sprinkling your mound with kisses. “Good, so good… I want you as wet as can be. What do you think? Should I check?”

You whimpered incoherently as he dragged his lips to your lower ones and parted them with his tongue, letting your slick coat it. His short growl was enough to make you flush, but the way he gripped your ass to pin you down under him made you clench.

You felt his sigh deep inside your core as he lapped his tongue in circles, taking every single drop of sweetness.

“All for me, little light.”

You contained your moans, feeling your face and chest so hot, you thought your very sweat would evaporate. You only noticed the way you were curling into yourself, lost, when he grabbed your hand in his hair to loosen your grip.

“Let me take care of you,” he coaxed, kissing your fingertips before leaning to nuzzle your clit. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It made your heart skip, and you finally laid back down. He placed your hand back on his head with a mischievous smile before diving in again, and you bit your lip, knowing you were melting, just giving him more of what he wanted. You didn’t know why, but the way he reassured you made it so you could relax and forget yourself, focusing simply on the pleasure. His tongue was restless, but his nose on your clit was gentle, almost a tease, as though poking a reaction out of you. You weren’t shy about sighing, moaning, or grazing his scalp gently now, but when he gave your clit a few circular rubs, you started shaking and let out a deep moan.

He kept his touches so light, his kisses so feather-like that you couldn’t help but moan and combust with each new lap. His dark eyes stayed on yours while his pink tongue leaped over you with utmost gentleness and led you down a path where, in the end, you felt like a supernova — a star about to burst and be set free.

Your climax made you moan and shake; you would have forgotten who you were if not for that single point of contact. You searched for him, and he grabbed your hands, instantly giving you the direction you needed. But while he coaxed you gently down to earth, you became anxious.

“I want you,” you breathed, looking down at him, still kissing your inner thighs as if he didn’t intend on leaving that spot.

“You have me, little light.”

“I need you,” you insisted.

“I know, and I'll give you everything you want.”

His tone was losing its lightness, but you were not sated. “Then give me… you,” you sobbed when his lips skimmed your folds, shaking you with a shiver. “Jimin, please.”

He squeezed your hands before latching his lips more firmly to your core, grunting and fluttering his eyes closed, but it wasn’t enough for you. You whimpered his name, pulling his hands to you, and he chuckled, “I’m trying, but—”

“No, you. I need to feel you inside me,” you pleaded, trying your best to describe the urge unsettling you from the inside out. “I'm so empty, I need you, please!”

You only noticed you had managed to pull him over you like a heated blanket when his face was hovering above yours. He cupped your cheeks with a line of worry between his eyebrows. “This is about you.”

“This is about us,” you instantly corrected, also cradling his lovely cheeks. “Please.”

His eyes peered at your features, and his hesitation hurt you. It hurt him, too. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, and he wished he could be truthful with you. You were everything he had ever wanted or ever would; his reluctance to continue was not out of uncertainty of his feelings or lack of desire for you. It was because he didn’t know if he’d be able to control himself with you. He knew what drinking someone drunk on lust tasted like, but they weren’t you. He couldn’t help his curiosity, but he could never endanger you like that. Not without you knowing the risks. On top of it, what if he marked you? Claimed you? He could feel his selfish, untamable urge to do so, to link you to him forever.

But how could he do that without telling you about him? Without changing your life forever? Without revealing that he had been lying to you? That the person you were lying with, who he was, was not what you thought?

“Jimin,” your quiet voice brought him back, and his heart made the decision. He just wanted to erase that deep sadness from your features and show you that with him, you’d never find anything but love.

He kissed you, vowing to himself for the hundredth time that he’d give you everything he could, and never hold you back or hurt you. To seal those promises, he dragged his lips and tongue down your jaw and neck. A whiff of your scent there as your jugular thrummed against his lips made him groan, but he trailed lower to your sternum, promising right to your heart.

You squeezed your breasts around his face and he smiled, obliging your desires. He grabbed them over your hands and nipped at a nipple, appreciating how you writhed under him. Your legs squeezed around his waist, humping your hips as though you could align yourself with him, and it was sweet. It was wild, untempered, and the thought that perhaps you felt as strongly about him as he did about you almost made him adjust so he could join your bodies as one.

But he groaned into your chest as he teased you and reminded himself that this was about you. So he pulled away and lay next to you.

A wave of cold invaded you, making you look at him with worry again. Did he really not want to—

“Get on top of me, little light,” he instructed, extending his hand to you. You eyed it, and he gave you a dazzling smile. “Come on, I want to see you.”

You pressed your lips and took his hand, letting him guide you as he had countless times before. You straddled him just like he asked you, and when his eyes moved down your body, you stayed put. A part of you feared you weren’t to his liking, but the way he drank your every detail, tracing his palms up and down your curves, soothed you quickly. Instead, you let the way he touched you relax you into lowering yourself down his chest.

He kissed you instantly, wanting you to get lost in him. You were easily overwhelmed, shuddering with his curious fingertips tracing your every line. Meanwhile, his lips pecked your cheek and jawline whenever you dared breathe, only to steal your breath away seconds later by kissing you again. This intimate rhythm distracted you enough to let him gently push and pull your waist over him. You found yourself moving in a steady sway, noticing only how it was making you burn and lose yourself when a moan pushed out of your lips.

You broke away from the kiss, noticing under your lowered eyelids how his lips chased yours.

“Good?” he asked, lips peppering every inch of skin they could find as he covered you with hot breaths. “Do you like it, little light?”

You would have smacked his shoulder out of embarrassment, but his hands pressed your hips down the slightest, and your clit on his hard shaft made you moan breathlessly. Your cheeks flushed as you hid in his neck, unable to stop your hips.

He suckled your exposed neck, feeling you exude heat as pleasure overtook your senses. “You’re doing so well,” he cooed, gently brushing your hair away. “You sound about to cum again—”

You froze and pushed away to face him. Despite the heat clouding your judgment, you realized what you were doing — just humping him, using him for your pleasure selfishly. When, in fact, you wanted so much more at that moment.

“Why did you stop?”

He caressed your cheek, and you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” His tone was ever so gentle, even as his brow furrowed.

You nodded, “I got carried away.”

He smiled, “That’s good.”

You shook your head shyly. “No. I want to feel you, please,” you whispered to his lips, reminding him of what you had requested earlier.

He sighed and pecked your lips once, cupping your cheeks. “You can do whatever you want, little light. I want to feel you, too.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips before rising to your knees and looking down. You could barely process the perfect body underneath you or the starry eyes looking up at you. Jimin was so perfect, with his smooth muscles matching astonishing features, not to mention his perfect hard cock glistening under you. You rolled your hips, grinding your slit on him just a bit more, and the friction drew a moan out of you as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip.

You grabbed his dick and gave him a few flicks of your wrist, but he was already as hard as can be. He was also the image of pure sin, gripping the sheets as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling back.

“Do you like it? This is what you do to me,” he managed to say with a low groan, and you bit your lip.

“Me?”

“You.”

His eyes opened to set on yours, and you could instinctively read the hunger behind them. It could have intimidated you, but instead, you brought his cock closer to your entrance as though you finally understood each other. You couldn’t phrase it, but that desire you saw in his eyes was a reflection of your own. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, parting you open to fit with you in ways no one else could, and he wanted the same. You could feel it and know it as you sank on him.

He groaned and pushed himself further inside you, letting your tight walls squeeze a dream-like haze over him. You both moaned with the connection, and he had to hold back from biting you and drawing blood as he hid in the crook of your neck. Not even because he wanted your blood, but just because he couldn’t control the way he needed to become a part of you.

You moved your hips, and he groaned again, needing to still you seconds later. That unique, euphoric sensation lacing every wave of pleasure brought tears to his eyes, even more so when you pecked his forehead. Every time you moved, he saw sparks of white. It was beautiful and heavenly, and he knew he’d want it for the rest of his days.

You restarted your hips, moving in a way that his cock bottomed out, and he tensed again, unable to stop you and overwhelmed by everything you gave him.

He could only breathe when you stopped again, moaning for him with your lip tucked between your teeth as you swiveled your hips to grind your clit on him. “I won’t last.”

He kissed your shoulder with closed eyes and knew you felt his hard dick throb inside you. No matter what, he’d let you have your way. He just couldn’t say no to you.

Your moans echoed across the room as you rolled your hips harder, making good use of his slicked length inside you, but it was only when he joined in, fucking you hard and fast, that you lost sight of yourself. You closed your eyes and let him take you, your desperate moans the only hint he could have to how close you were.

Until you sobbed his name, crashing down around him in waves of frenzied bliss. He fucked you slower, cupping your cheeks to keep you looking at him the whole time, and you almost cursed him. You had never felt so connected and complete, all while you trembled and cried your pleasure, staring directly into his gorgeous dark eyes.

His strangled name out of your lips as you peaked made everything come cascading down for Jimin. That single moment rewrote him and changed him, because as you came, and your body and blood sang to him, he swore he saw light. It made him cling to you, the only ray of light in his darkness, and the pleasure that washed over him as he joined you washed him clean. He wasn’t just Jimin, and he wasn’t just a vampire, he was yours. Undoubtedly, for the rest of his days, regardless if he ever claimed you.

You let your forehead fall to his as your hushed breaths filled the room, and he hugged you closer.

“I was made for you,” he whispered, then pressed his lips to yours before he’d confess more of the turmoil inside him.

“So was I.”

6 months earlier

“You always let me eat the whole popcorn tub,” you giggled as you dragged him outside the cinema and into the night as your dress twirled around you. The temperatures were rising, and Jimin liked seeing you in dresses.

“I know you like sweet things.” He shrugged as he followed you, ignoring the few people leaving the late-night session alongside the two of you.

“Still, not even one? You make me feel bad for letting you pay half.”

You were grinning, so he didn’t take it too seriously. At first, comments like those made him freeze and think of excuses, but a month was enough to know that you didn’t really care.

“Buy my ticket next time,” he suggested, pulling you closer to cross the park hand in hand. He knew you thought it was for safety, but it was just for the pleasure of it. No one would dare come close to you two, and if someone tried, he’d avoid it before you even realized the situation.

You walked side by side and raised your eyebrows, “Are you saying you want to do this again?”

He squeezed your hand, “You know I do.”

You chuckled and stayed quiet, turning your head up to observe the breeze move the tree canopies above your heads as you walked the city park. Lately, you had been there so many times that he knew the way back to your place like the back of his hand. He couldn’t help his smile as you observed the night sky with a light purse of your lips.

“How about we go see the stars next time?” you asked, turning to him.

“So you don’t buy me a ticket?”

“What?” You chuckled and shook your head once you realized his tease. “Of course, I’ll get you a ticket. But on another day, we could go see the stars. We can’t really see them from here.”

You stopped to look at the sky, and he mimicked you, though your wonder was far more interesting.

“There’s this place outside the city…” he suggested. “It’s a bit of a drive, but it will be beautiful on a summer night.”

Your lips curved playfully. “Sounds like a good idea. Should we make it a weekend?”

He pursed his lips. “No, I can… drive us back.”

You nodded and looked down, taking one step to resume your walk, when he pulled you back to him.

“I’m not saying no to a weekend away with you,” he clarified, looking intently into your eyes. “We can plan something better than just star gazing.”

You hummed in thought, though you didn’t move away, letting your hands rest on his chest. “I’m sure it would involve cuddles at some point.”

“Cuddles?” It was his turn to hum, exaggerating as he swayed you in his embrace. “You’re right; that does make it much better.” You smiled cheekily, and he pinched your pink cheek. “We’ll plan something.”

You smiled, getting on your toes to kiss him when your phone rang. You pulled it out of your handbag and picked up the call in one swift movement that made Jimin sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re still out?” you asked Jiyu in disbelief, knowing it was about three-thirty in the morning.

He raised an eyebrow, though he tried not to give away how much he could hear of the conversation.

“Yeah, we’re still out! And you are too, so get your ass here!”

“We’re just out of the cinema,” you started, glancing at him.

“So you’re already out of the house! And bring Jimin. It’s high time he hears some truths!”

“Are you drunk?” you asked gently, and the roll of high-pitched grumbles that followed confirmed it.

“You just never go out anymore! It’s all his fault! I never see you anymore, and it’s not because I moved out! Would I even see you if we still lived together?! You’re just out on dates every night or whatever!”

“We also watch movies at home and snuggle—”

“I don’t care!” There was a sniffle. “I don't know if I like him! I trust Hoseok, but ever since you started dating, I just don't see you! You're busy every night!”

“We are…” you started, looking at him before glancing away, “getting to know each other.”

Her voice sounded strangled, “Just get your ass here, or I’ll never forgive you!”

Jimin could hear the others’ awwws and don’t be like that, and knew Jiyu was crying. You looked at Jimin again and bit your lip; so you knew it, too. “Where are you? Okay, I know where it is.” You turned, looking around to situate yourself. “I’m fifteen minutes out. See you soon.”

Jimin had a light frown on his face as you put your phone away.

“Jiyu is at Club Gabbia,” you told him with a bit of a shy smile. “I haven’t seen her in a while, or the others, so I’ll join them before I go home.”

He pursed his lips, wondering why you weren’t inviting him to come along when it was clear Jiyu needed reassurance. “It’s not safe for you to go alone…”

You smiled while you shook your head. “Jiyu is with the girls, and they’ve had a bit to drink… I’m sure you’d be annoyed.”

“Not as long as I’m with you.” The words flew out before he could stop them, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “I just wouldn’t be at ease knowing you were by yourself.”

You nodded slowly. “I should tell you that… if they see you, they won't let you get away. Only Jiyu knows you, and they’re… curious,” you settled on a word, and he nodded. “And they’re also drunk, so they might be a bit too much.”

“Are you trying to convince me not to meet them?”

His tone had amusement, and you sighed. “Just telling you what to expect…”

He grabbed your hand and turned down another path, “Club Gabbia… I think I remember where that is.”

He led you calmly down the stone path, asking you things about your friends so you’d relax. He preferred to hear you talk than to worry about his problems — like the fact that Jiyu already noticed how close you were to Jimin. Only one month had passed, and you spent every night together, either out on a date or home snuggling — getting to know each other, as you said.

Some would say that meeting your friends would complicate everything, but he couldn’t let you go alone or create even more friction with Jiyu. After all, you would always gravitate towards him; that was inevitable, but you were not bonded. He had made sure to keep that side of him in check precisely so you wouldn’t change or sacrifice your life to be with him. So you could walk away one day. Perhaps pretending to be a normal guy would help you with this.

You reached the club and entered quickly, and Jimin’s hand tightened around yours as you guided him upstairs. The whole structure was black metal, an industrial concept that made it seem like the building was still under construction. He tried focusing on the floor, but the flashing lights almost made his sensitive eyes cry. On top of this, the open concept meant that the booming noise from the dance floor echoed up, making him grit his teeth. Clubs were too much for creatures like him.

“I don’t believe it!”

A couple of shrieks and shouts ahead told him which table had your friends before you headed that way. Jiyu was sitting in the middle and didn’t get up like the others to greet you two. Instead, her eyes lingered on him while you greeted everyone and told them about being nearby.

“So you never go out clubbing?” Jiyu asked, raising her voice so he’d know she was talking to him.

“Not my thing,” he replied with a tense smile. “I prefer the bars downtown,” he added with a shout, making a point. “Easier to have a conversation.”

Jiyu pursed her lips, and you raised your hand to her, inviting her to get up and hug you, which she did. She was pouting, drunk, and Jimin only smiled to himself—he understood the feeling; he would also get jealous if he were in her shoes.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” A friend of yours smiled boldly, and you let go of Jiyu, who you were talking to by speaking in each other’s ears as you hugged.

“Girls, this is Jimin.”

They started giggling and teasing, and he found them amusing. You looked flustered as they asked if he was your boyfriend, and your reply was bashful. “We’re getting to know each other.”

He didn’t correct you, and a playful smile rested on his lips when he pulled you to sit next to him. He didn’t think you were downplaying what you two were doing; you were likely just afraid of saying something that he wouldn’t agree with. It was funny to him because you were so beyond “girlfriend” or any other human designation, and you didn’t even know it. Little did he know, however, that his smile was interpreted the wrong way.

Your friends were keen on getting to know him, asking him a myriad of unexpected questions. Fortunately, his handling of humans as a dance instructor meant he had a well-rehearsed story and was totally unfazed. Jiyu had the hardest questions, interrupting only when there was an opportunity to dig a little deeper. How many siblings did he have? Were his grandparents still alive? Did he own his apartment?

He didn’t take it personally and answered everything according to the fictional story Hoseok had drafted for him back when he started at the gym. It wasn’t enough, he thought. Jiyu kept analyzing him, scrutinizing his worth. Even you realized this, grabbing her hand and leaning into her ear to tell her to take it easy.

It didn’t help that he refused drinks vehemently and couldn’t hide how uncomfortable he was. Jiyu perceived it as disliking her questions, but it was really the nauseating flashing lights.

Your friends got on the bandwagon and joined the questioning, though their questions were more playful. Had he ever dated seriously, or did he prefer dating around? When was his last long-term relationship? Was he available to teach them to dance, too?

He wasn’t ready for those, and it didn’t feel right to answer them when you had never touched such topics just the two of you. Fortunately, that was the moment you decided to leave.

“It’s almost five, and I’d like not to be a zombie tomorrow.”

Jiyu agreed, and so did Jimin. “I’ll take you home.”

He was eager to leave before the sun showed and made it uncomfortable for him. Not that he’d instantly combust, but he hated the sun-induced rash even after just a few minutes of exposure.

Your other friends tried their best, but you were out quickly, taking Jiyu to a taxi where she eyed Jimin one last time with a small head bow.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Jimin told you when the taxi moved away.

“She’s just looking out for me,” you replied, letting him guide you by the hand out of the crowd. When you got to a side street, it was easier to walk side by side and talk. “I’m sorry about the others, though.”

“Hmm? Why?”

“They were… kind of intrusive, no? And that last question…”

His thumb brushed circles on your hand as he tried recalling. “About being available for more classes?”

You huffed and looked away. “Said like that, it sounds innocent, but… it was not an innocent question, and I…”

He looked at you, and you instantly stiffened.

“I mean, of course, you’re free to give anyone classes. I just…”

He stopped and pulled you close to make sure you looked at him. “It bothers you?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Their insinuation? Yes.”

“I see,” he hummed as he grabbed your other hand. “I’m not teaching anyone else one-on-one, but even if I were, this,” he squeezed your hands, “wouldn’t happen. We might have met through dancing, but we’re much more than that. You’re special to me.”

You blushed, looking up at him with stars in your eyes, and he chuckled when you got on your tiptoes to kiss him.

5 months earlier

“Well done, everyone.” Jimin smiled as he stopped the music and clapped along with everyone in the class. “Have a safe trip back home!”

The sweaty attendees of his class bowed and expressed their appreciation before starting to disperse, and Jimin turned his back to grab his things.

“We’re going out for a drink, Jimin-ssi.”

He turned to face one of the usuals smiling at him with a flushed, cheeky smile. He couldn’t recall her name.

She pointed behind her at a group of seven or so people from that same class. “Want to join us?”

He nodded at them in acknowledgment but instantly shook his head. “No, I got somewhere to be.”

“Come on, Eun-Yeong,” one of them called. “Can’t you see Jimin-ssi is going home to his girlfriend?”

Her scowl was instant as she turned to glare at the guy, and Jimin chuckled, “Well…”

“Oh,” Eun-Yeong suddenly said as realization spread over her features. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you— I’m sorry.” She bowed deeply, and Jimin grabbed his things.

“No worries. You enjoy yourselves and get home safely.” He gave them all light head bows before heading straight to the exit into the warm night.

The days were longer now, which meant not as much time to be with you. While he was inside the gym, it was fine, but he couldn’t stay so long in the morning, which annoyed him greatly.

He walked to your place on autopilot, wondering about what his students had said. Girlfriend. Would you have said yes if you were asked? He hoped so, considering. Though he knew there was a chance you wouldn’t, and he’d understand.

It was his fault. He knew that for humans, dating and seeing each other every day meant being serious, and he was serious about you — he just didn’t want you to know.

Yes, he was yours, body and soul, but no, he had never told you that. He never revealed much about himself other than the made-up human story, and so it felt wrong to even touch on establishing a relationship. Because it would have been based on lies, and he didn’t want that, even though it had to stay that way.

With time, he became certain that he wouldn’t hurt you, even when lust-crazed. He would know, you spared no efforts trying to get him there. Whether you edged him for hours or begged him to fuck you while you two were dancing, you had understood two things about him: he’d never say no to you, and you were safe in his embrace.

This made it even more cruel that he never expressed how he felt about you, nor did he let you do it. You would look into his eyes with such endearment, and he’d kiss you to shut you both up, or you would cry his name as you came and while he chanted his love for you a thousand times in his head, he prayed that you wouldn’t say it. Even though he knew you felt it, and even though you never defined what you two were.

You had never expressed that being an issue for you, and he didn’t need to define it because he knew what you were to him. If anything, he knew you loved him because your blood told him so.

Not that he had ever tasted you like that, of course. He had grown confident that he could control that aspect of his nature and keep you safe and blissfully ignorant. Your blood still sang to him, though, but that was not an issue. It called to him, but it wasn’t what shot him up to the sky, letting him float among the stars under the glow of the moon. That elation that accompanied touching you, making his heart sing, had nothing to do with the prospect of sinking his teeth into you. It was just quite simply the way you were together; it was just you. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, be it your fruity slick, your flowery-scented skin, or your ambrosia-like kisses. He was so in love with you, that spending his nights by your side was all that mattered, blissfully ignoring the elephant in the room.

At least until that conversation reminded him of all this, only for your sweet smile to make him forget all about it as soon as you opened the door for him.

“There you are,” you quipped, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

He held you and gave you a quick peck before coming inside.

“I always ask, but,” you started, already in the kitchen while he took off his shoes. “You’ve eaten?”

“As always, I have.”

You shrugged and grabbed a Twinkie. “I blame your schedule for my midnight snacks.”

He agreed and joined you on the couch. “I’ll take responsibility and make you burn the calories.”

He winked, and you chuckled with your mouth full; it was adorable. You hugged a pillow and put your feet on his lap, and he took them to press the balls of your feet. It was almost routine by now — you trained in high heels, and he massaged your feet.

“How was your day?”

You swallowed hurriedly to answer him, “I met Jiyu to hash out the last details of our summer trip.” You reached for the cup of iced tea you had left on the coffee table to push the cake down, waving your hand as though much had been said, but you weren’t going into details. “She insisted again that it wasn’t normal for you to not come along, and she went on this super paranoid tangent,” you laughed, putting the cup down. “She says that you act like a married man, always leaving, not introducing me to your family, never joining us on our trips, and I just had to laugh because she’s so dramatic.”

You were laughing with it but he couldn’t match you. He only pursed his lips for a moment, “It’s silly.”

“Right? I mean, we’re too young to get married, and we’ve only been together for like five months, and…” You paused, seeing that a light demeanor similar to yours could not be found on the other side of the couch. Jimin looked rigid, staring at your feet without ever stopping his digits digging into the sole of your foot. “Just because she is marrying her high school sweetheart, it doesn’t mean others have to do the same as her.”

You pulled your foot from his touch and he gritted his teeth, but kept his eyes low.

“Then she was going on about how it could be fun to go on double dates and so on, but don’t worry, I shot her down. You don’t have time for that type of thing.”

“I work at night.”

“She suggested during the day, but I told her you were a night owl type of guy.”

You got up from the couch, taking the cup with you to pour the tea down the drain and rinse it, and he stayed behind. He couldn’t think of anything to say; he didn’t want to admit he’d been lying, but he didn’t want you to think he didn’t care. He cared, so he couldn’t make it serious. He couldn’t go on trips with your friends or meet your family, and certainly not introduce you to his. This way, he could make sure that one day you could walk away and live the rest of your life in peace.

Which was ironic considering the way his heart was tightening painfully from just feeling the slightest disconnection between you. He didn’t want you to misinterpret him or distance yourself, so how would he ever let you go?

The cup clinked as you put it down, drying your hands with a towel. “So, as you know, I’ll leave tomorrow.”

He got up to join you, suddenly restless. The detachment in your voice was like a jab to his heart, and when your eyes raised to his, he felt it more sharply.

He grabbed your hands, and you looked down. “Will you come water the plants? The week I’m gone?”

“I’ll come every day,” he said quietly, hurting with the way your eyes stayed hidden. “I’m not married, and I don’t have anyone else, I’m just—”

He hesitated, and you offered, “A night owl?”

He nodded, looking away and pressing his lips. He gripped your hands, struggling with what to say and what path to take when you smiled.

“You’re not ready, it’s fine. I get it.” Your tone was soft, but he could see through you in the rigid lines of your face. “I have friends that dated for years and never introduced their partners to anyone, it’s fine. I mean, they’re not together anymore, but—”

His lips crashed to yours, his hand darting to hold your head in place when he suddenly backed off with wide eyes and blown pupils.

“What?” you asked, gripping his arms unceremoniously. You wanted him to kiss you, you didn’t know why he stopped. Thinking about all this made you insecure, so you needed to feel him close.

He licked his lips and looked at your mouth, and for a second, you thought he’d ravish you.

But then he raised your chin. “You picked skin on your lip?”

You pressed your lips. “I… do that sometimes—”

“You can’t. You can never hurt yourself like that again. Okay?” His tone was firm and commanding, and you blinked up, slightly befuddled by his strong reaction. He caressed your cheek. “What if it scars? Or hurts? How would I kiss you?”

“You’d have to wait,” you mumbled, seeing the worry in his watery eyes.

“I can’t, I need you.” His quiet confession made your stomach fuzzy as he kissed your lips again, groaning into your mouth.

In seconds, you were lost in the kiss and sitting on the counter with your legs around him. He kept tracing his hands over you firmly, possessively, and you matched his fervor. You could swear he felt insecure as well, and you didn’t want him to. You loved him, wanted him and a future with him, dreaded the upcoming week without him, and didn’t want him to feel uncertain about you.

But you realized that he wasn’t ready to talk about feelings or relationships, and while a year ago you would have shot down the notion of being with someone without knowing where you stood, with him, you just… Let it go.

Because everything felt so right as he picked you up and carried you to bed. He undressed you and revered every inch of you revealed to him, and as always, you felt special, seen, and important. All you needed was for him to look at you like that, with such longing, and touch you with such care, almost like he was thankful you existed. It was selfish, perhaps, but you had never felt that way before, and it wasn’t just him. You knew you reflected that same myriad of feelings in your eyes, in your touch. It didn’t matter if you were yet to meet his parents or become officially his girlfriend or if he was too busy to go on trips with Jiyu. This was your decision, and you would pick him, always.

You welcomed his kiss, and although normally, Jimin would take his time preparing you and worshiping you, he couldn’t wait this time. He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in, settling as deeply as you would take him. It forced a groan out of him and a moan out of you, but when he looked at you, he knew you were fine; better than. You crossed your legs behind him, and he knew that expression of yours; you wanted to feel him, and he wanted nothing else.

Your heart and blood were calling to him louder than ever before, and he knew his was answering the same way, even if you couldn’t hear it. He could only show you, which was why he was fucking you hard, grabbing the back of your neck to him so you’d let him nuzzle your jugular as he thrust into you frantically. The slap of skin wasn’t enough, not even your moans were, so he suckled your skin, just to feel your heartbeat in his mouth. It was the closest he’d ever be to tasting and hearing your love, and it drove him wild. He needed you. Needed you in his life, in his mouth, in his body, and in his own blood. Needed to be a part of you, your life, and your body. He needed to mark you just as much as he needed to love you, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, even if he heard your love in your sweet heartbeat and smelled it in your blood. He couldn’t tell you, especially because he could. Because you already loved him, but you didn’t even know the truth.

Your voice vibrated on his lips as you moaned, tightening your warm, velvety walls around him as you sank your nails into his shoulders, and he closed his eyes. He knew you were about to find rapture, so when you jumped, he tumbled right after you, mixing his moans with yours as he came, trembling, same as you.

Your heart was racing as you kissed his head, caressing his hair gently, and he stayed put, just listening. He didn’t know how to keep you by his side, but he just couldn’t lose you.

1 month earlier

You were happy that night when Jimin entered your bed, slipping in behind you, hugging you awake.

You had met for training earlier in the night, and you had teased him relentlessly. With only one month away from the competition, you deserved compensation for your improvements, and you didn’t care about trophies.

He jokingly pointed out that he still caught you when you tripped, and you chuckled, “Maybe I do it on purpose so you’ll catch me.”

He hummed as though he wasn’t convinced, and you bit your lip.

“So come over and give me everything I deserve?”

He sighed at your pout, and you smiled victoriously when he said, “Maybe.”

You knew he was busy helping Hoseok with the competition, since it was happening at the gym. They’d pull all-nighters to get everything ready, and that meant you had less time with Jimin. You missed your movie nights and star gazing. You missed him, it was hard for you.

Jiyu had noticed his absence and your sadness, but even she had to admit it was likely tough for Jimin. “Plus, he’s participating, can you imagine? Must be super stressful.”

You sighed and snuggled closer to him; what mattered was that at least tonight he’d sleep at home. Or rather, with you. You finally felt at home.

Despite settling quietly behind you, Jimin was hard, and you weren’t shy about rubbing your ass against his crotch to make double sure. He groaned quietly with his hand on your waist, and you wasted no time, pulling your pajama pants and underwear down your legs.

He groaned into your hair when he felt your soft, warm skin, and you pleaded, “Please.”

You knew you had him when his hand traced your curves under your shirt to squeeze your breast and tease your nipple.

“My little light,” he sighed, making you squirm. “I missed you.”

You were easily set ablaze, dragging his hand lower to settle between your legs. “I missed you, too. Please.”

His fingers were quick to catch your wetness and spread it to your clit, and you closed your eyes as you gripped the sheets. No matter how much you enjoyed it when he gave to you, focusing on your pleasure before his own, that was not what you needed tonight.

“Jimin,” you called, writhing more into his chest. “Fuck me. Please.”

He must have expected and welcomed your request because he didn’t waste a second. His lips pressed to your neck as he opened his pants only to enter you, groaning softly in your ear in tune with you. He knew the way inside you now like the back of his hand, just as he knew how to give you exactly what you wanted.

You needed to feel him hard and deep. You needed him to cover you with love bites just so you had something other than the soreness between your thighs to remember him by once he left at dawn.

You moaned when he gripped your hip harder, melting and tightening around his cock. You loved it when he fucked you like this, a steady rhythm meant to make you feel good and drive you both insane as the two of you teetered on the edge of your volatile emotions for as long as possible. Only tonight you knew that wouldn’t work for either of you; you were bound to pop quickly out of sheer longing. Distance makes the heart go fonder and all that, which right now meant that you were craving to cream his cock and hear him groan his pleasure in the form of your name as he nestled inside you, filling you with his cum. You wanted it enough that the slightest touch turned you on — and he was slamming into you full force.

You moaned his name and worked against his ruts to feel him as deeply as possible. “Fuck, don’t stop,” you pleaded, feeling a gut-ripping fire start to flare in your lower stomach. It was going to blow and take everything with it, and you wanted nothing else. “Harder, please!”

You loved when he bit down your neck as he fucked you so hard you saw stars; it was perfect. He was still the Jimin you knew, the one you wanted, yours—

“Fuck, I’m—” Your words vanished as you moaned, your mind slipping past you with your orgasm as you kept mumbling, “I love you—I love—”

You groaned harder when a prick on your neck made you squirm a little, but instantly the bee sting-like sensation vanished as your orgasm took a new breath. Something exciting and exhilarating was making you soar high. It was as though you were floating as your heart pumped pure bliss, nearly exploding with happiness. Your only thought beyond the white waves of pleasure was that Jimin was right there with you, joining you, taking this leap together. You could feel him coming deep inside you as his arms kept you tethered to him, and you needed nothing else.

Coming down, you were like a feather waiting for the breeze to gently put you down. Of course, Jimin couldn’t wait to kiss you, so he turned your head up to connect your mouths. A ferric taste invaded your tastebuds, but you thought nothing of it. Not until he pulled away with wide, spooked eyes and you frowned. What was that on his mouth?

You whimpered when the stung-like sensation returned to your neck, and you touched it. It was wet, and you knew that smell.

You got up from bed. “Ah shit, it’s going to stain the pillows—”

Suddenly, the world was spinning, and your head was too light. You frowned as you stumbled, but a firm hand grabbed your arm to keep you steady.

You smiled, about to thank Jimin for catching you, as always, when your eyes fell on the mirror and found a gruesome image: your white pajama top was crimson because you had two small holes in your skin, pouring blood down your neck. Behind you, Jimin was hugging you to him, and his mouth and chin had traces of crimson.

“What the fuck?” You moved away from him to see better in the mirror under the moonlight, but he didn’t let you go.

“Wait.”

You tsked, “You bit too hard!”

You faced him in the mirror, a bit angry, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. “Let me close it.”

You blinked, stupefied by his answer. “What?”

“Here, just let me—” He leaned down into your neck and swiped his tongue across both holes, and you shuddered from head to toe. “There,” he said quietly, and you pressed your hand to your neck in bewilderment.

He stepped away, and you looked in a mirror; you still had blood stains all over your skin and clothes, but you weren’t bleeding out anymore. Because he licked you.

What?

You spun on yourself, frowning with a surge of questions rattling in your brain, only for them to abruptly stop. Jimin was gripping his hair a few meters away from you, and he looked absolutely panicked.

“What just happened?” you asked, as though you needed him to confirm it, else you would start thinking you were imagining things.

“I bit you,” he mumbled, glancing at you before looking away. His eyes glistened with such emotion, your heart tightened in response.

Still, you shook your head. “Yeah, but why go so far?” You looked at your white pajamas as though you needed to confirm the evidence was still there.

“Because I fucked up!”

He was clearly anxious, and you blinked a few times, bafflingly waiting for more information. He didn’t open his mouth, so you insisted, “Well, okay, but why? I mean, clearly biting me like this without asking me first—”

“Asking?!” He turned to you with wide, glossed eyes, and you frowned again. Why was he looking at you as though you had lost your mind? “What the hell are you saying?!”

“Well, obviously! I’m okay with you having a bite or blood kink or something, but you have to talk to me first so that we can—”

“Stop! Okay, stop, just—”

He covered his face with his hands as though he needed a moment, and the silence in the room almost made him believe time had stopped. If it weren’t for your heartbeat.

He fucked up. He tried so hard to pretend you could be together, to convince himself that he wouldn’t hurt you, that you were safe, that—

He sighed. He tried so hard to convince himself that he wouldn’t have to tell you.

He opened his eyes. “It’s not a kink. I’m not human.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

You were confused, but at least you gave him the benefit of the doubt instead of laughing. Maybe now you could sense the danger you were in.

“I’m a vampire.”

Your eyebrows skyrocketed as you eyed him from head to toe, and then frowned. “What?”

“I’m a—”

“No, no.” You waved your hand as you squinted your eyes. “You’re— You’re a specimen of a fictional species?”

“Now you know we’re not just fictional,” he replied darkly.

His lips pulled back, his tongue licked over his teeth, and then you saw them — his teeth were different. It was as though they elongated seamlessly before your eyes. They were still crimson with traces of your blood.

“You need blood.” You shook your head. “I mean, you— You feed on people?”

“No,” his answer was sharp and firm. “Of course, there are instincts and appropriate places if— No, I don’t. I haven’t in years.”

You stayed quiet, eying him as though you could catch him lying. “You did bite me.”

“It’s not the same.”

“How?”

He heaved a deep breath. “You’re— You’re not just someone I want to—” Your eyebrow twitched, daring him to speak openly, and he did. “You’re not someone I just want to play with for the thrill. You’re not someone I want to risk killing because I lost control. You’re not someone I want to endanger or bring into this world to just get torn apart by—”

His features twisted into a grimace as he stopped himself, and you observed as the conflict continued, hurting him inside and out. You didn’t know what he was talking about, you couldn’t follow his train of thought.

“Is that why you never told me? Or maybe it's the opposite.” You looked down, remembering a talk you once had with Jiyu. “I’m nothing serious to you, so why bother telling me. Right?”

He was already shaking his head before you were done. “No, not right. If you were nothing serious, I wouldn’t have bothered even looking at you twice.”

“But you never told me.” You shrugged.

“For your safety.”

“Knowing would put me in danger?” You arched a skeptical eyebrow. “How would anyone know I know?”

He chewed on his lip. “That’s not the only problem.”

“Then what is?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and, as the seconds ticked by in silence, felt his cum starting to drip down from inside you.

You huffed and searched for your underwear and pajama bottoms in between the sheets. His eyes stayed on you as you put your clothes back on. He also tucked his dick away and composed his clothes, but he didn’t answer your question.

By the time you were left standing, looking at him again, the quiet had already chipped at your patience. “Maybe the real problem is that you can’t seem to be honest?”

His jawline hardened. “I just wanted you to be safe.”

“From what?”

“From everyone!” He threw his hands up at your caustic tone. “From everything, from hurting, from— From me!”

You crossed your arms over your chest again. “Well, that didn’t work, did it?”

He growled and turned away, and you bit your tongue. You were angry, but saying that did not help.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I—”

“No, you’re right.”

You instantly straightened your back; his tone was cold and detached as he turned back to face you.

“It was the one thing I wanted. To keep you safe from this side of me. I thought I could do it because no matter how good you smelled, or sweet you tasted, I stopped wanting your blood long ago.”

Your heart was beating harshly, anxiety gripping you as you waited for the other shoe to drop. “Then… What happened tonight?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, and you saw his inner battle before he looked away. His eyes held resolution when they faced you again. “You spoke your heart, and I… couldn’t keep it in anymore.” You were confused, and he chuckled, “It’s not your blood, or rather, not to feed. I didn’t want to feed on you, but I do want… to bite you.”

Your heart pumped strongly inside your rib cage, a mix of relief and —oddly— acceptance spreading through your veins. “That’s… that’s fine, I—”

“That is not fine.”

His tone was so absolute that you frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because you have no idea what it means.”

He turned away to leave the room, and you followed him, confused and agitated. “Well, because you won’t tell me! Maybe if you told me, I could decide differently, but—” He started putting on his shoes, and you sucked in an aggravated breath. “Won’t you face this with me?!” You couldn’t believe he wanted to leave instead of explaining everything to you properly. “Besides, it’s my body and my blood! Shouldn't it be my decision?”

He only glanced at you, a single look worth a thousand words — you had no idea what you were talking about.

“Fucking explain it to me, then,” you bit back at him as he grabbed the doorknob and stepped outside.

He turned to you with such a blank expression, your anger made you clench your jaw.

“This was a mistake on my part.”

“Biting me without warning? Sure—”

“Letting this… happen.”

He waved between you, and you weren’t sure you were breathing right or hearing properly, but suddenly, there was an agonizing sting in your chest.

“I should have known it wouldn’t work out. It was naive of me, I’m sorry.”

Your disbelief and pain morphed your features, but before you could say something, he was already stepping back and away.

“Let’s stop it here.”

It took you a second to react, but you did. “Wait!”

But stepping into the corridor, you saw no one. You looked both ways, confused, but then the building's front door slammed from the floor below yours, cutting through the silence, and you gritted your teeth.

You threw on a coat to withstand the November cold and a pair of boots for the snow and ran after him.

Or so you thought. Thinking about where you should go made you realize you didn't even know where he lived. It never bothered you as much as it did now as you kept running.

But at least you knew where he worked, and it wasn't far. You saw the building lit up like a mirage in a desert of snow and made your way straight for the twenty-four-seven gym.

*****

Hoseok frowned as the doors that led to the staff area slammed, but he didn’t have time to say or do anything because, suddenly, his priorities shifted. His mouth salivated as his vision narrowed, a tension tingling down his spine as a sweet scent hit his nose. His first instinct was to rush to the reception counter and check the surveillance cameras — maybe a human had gotten hurt, though it was weird because—

You rushed through the automated front door with conviction, scanning the lobby before turning to Hoseok, who was speechless. He instantly could tell that you were the problem; how could you smell so sweet?

“Is he here? Is Jimin here?”

Hoseok was already stepping toward you with his hands in the air to stop you; this was bad. “Are you hurt?! You have blood—”

“I'm not hurt,” you cut in, and the scrutiny in your eyes froze him midway. “How do you know about the blood?”

He could see that your coat covered you from ear to knee. So he could follow your train of thought; how would he know of any blood, unless…

“You're one, too?”

Your question interrupted whatever excuse he was about to give.

He eyed you a bit reluctantly before nodding. “You smell strongly of blood. It's dangerous, you—”

He stilled again with a shudder down his spine. He could feel someone's eyes on him and knew that he could not touch you. No matter what.

Hoseok’s erratic behavior or the fact that you also didn't know that he was a vampire didn’t seem to bother you.

You shook your head to focus. “Is Jimin here? Did he come here?”

Your voice wavered with a cry, and Hoseok glanced back before focusing on you. “Did something happen?”

“He told me he's—” You swallowed. You were trembling along with your voice. You gripped your cold fingers. “He left. We—”

Hoseok did not react; he didn’t really understand what you were saying, and your presence there was too dangerous.

You brushed your palms down your face to wipe the tears and tried again, “We've been… seeing one another for… almost a year, and he never told me he… isn't human, and tonight… he bit me.”

Hoseok’s eyes glistened, but he stayed put. “I'm sure that was very traumatic.”

“What?” You frowned, confounded, even as he kept an expectant gaze on you. “I'm not traumatized! Or scared! Or in danger!”

“You don't know about—”

“Shut up!” Your outburst quieted him and you groaned, “I'm sorry, I just— I'm tired of being told I don't know. Of course I don't know! He didn’t tell me anything! And now he ran off without telling me anything! Does that make sense?! With one breath, he says I'm not just anyone, and with the other, he fucking leaves me without any explanation!”

Tears broke down your face again, and this time, you couldn’t help your grimace, turning to hide it for a moment. It hurt you so much. It was so confusing but the more you had time to think about it, the more it hurt.

Your shoulders shook with a sob. “I love him— I told him as much, and now— It's like I have no idea what is happening.”

“Hey,” Hoseok said from behind you as you sniffled and tried controlling your bawling. He was trying to calm you, whispering as you cried, but he couldn’t move, not even one step closer to you.

You turned back to face him, with red eyes and wet cheeks. “You're one, too,” you sniffled, “so tell me the truth. Is it me? Did I do something? He said we were a mistake, so— Is it because I'm human? I don't understand; does it matter?”

Hoseok shook his head. “It's a personal thing. Some will never think of a human beyond prey while others can… see more when they find someone special.”

His tone was gentle, but you didn't catch what he meant; you simply pressed your eyes with your palms to hide. “So I'm neither. Not a human to feed on and not special enough to learn about him.”

“You can't make assumptions like that,” he tried, worry marring his features, and you sniffled and cleaned your face again.

“He left me. Assumptions are all I have.”

“I'm sure he'll talk to you when he's ready,” Hoseok was confident as he declared this, and you shook your head.

“He looked at me like I… was already worthless,” your voice broke down with new tears, and Hoseok raised his hands again, but you stopped him. “It's fine, I… I'm emotional right now, I… I should think about it, too, right? I mean… I love him, but do I even know him?”

Hoseok’s expression hardened. “You do.”

You pressed your lips with skepticism. “Thank you for listening, Hoseok. I… I'm happy you were here.”

You waved weakly and left the same way you came, and Hoseok stayed put, watching you go. “Should we keep an eye on her? At least until she makes it home?”

“She lives just around the corner, and I can hear her heartbeat,” Jimin said, pushing the doors out of the staff area to join Hoseok in the lobby. “I'll hear it if something happens.”

Hoseok’s eyes were inscrutable. “So you did bite her and drink her blood.” Jimin pressed his lips and tried stilling his tongue from licking around to get more of your lingering taste. “And she's still walking about,” Hoseok declared pointedly, then insisted. “She didn't bleed out.”

“Of course not,” Jimin scowled, annoyed that Hoseok even mentioned it. “I closed the wounds.”

“Oh, of course,” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. Jimin’s expression stayed harsh and Hoseok rolled his eyes. “She wasn't scared of you or upset by the fact that you bit her, so what is it? Why are you running away from her?”

“Because it’s not safe for her.”

“You closed the wounds instead of feeding on her.” It was not a question but an attempt at making the younger vampire realize what he had done. Seeing as Jimin’s expression was unmovable, he sighed, “Are you sure she's not safe with you?”

“I bit her!”

The disgust twisted Jimin’s face and Hoseok was unfazed. “So?”

“I could have killed her!”

“Could you, though? You closed the wounds so easily… meaning you didn't want to feed. You want to mark her…” he hummed in thought, and Jimin bit down on his lip. He couldn't deny it, and so Hoseok continued, “That's why you bit her, but you were able to stop and put her first. Because she's yours, isn't she?” He kept probing, trying to get Jimin to say it, but he remained quiet. “Are you sure you would hurt her?”

“I just did!”

Jimin’s annoyance flared with a deep hate, and Hoseok hummed, “Sounds to me like you hurt her more by hiding your nature from her. You heard her — she loves you.”

“Well, she shouldn't!” he finally burst out, with glistening eyes promptly hiding as he turned away. “She doesn't know me!”

“I wonder if that's true,” Hoseok said calmly, contrasting with Jimin greatly. “If you're also hers, and all that.”

A shudder warmed Jimin's blood at the thought, but then he shook his head. “She wouldn’t know.”

“She might. She's a muse, after all.” Hoseok’s voice had a tone of wisdom, and Jimin didn’t bother denying it. “They probably sense these things.” Jimin was looking away, but Hoseok was happy he said it; it was important for Jimin to think about it, too. “You're sure you didn't mark her?”

“No, I… stopped in time.” He swallowed hard as he remembered.

Cumming inside you was bliss, but doing so drunk on your blood while you chanted your love was euphoric. He had been completely overwhelmed, with both your loves crashing inside his chest, stealing his reason. He loved you so much, he—

He cleared his voice, “Why?”

Hoseok’s eyes were still on the door. “She… smells sweeter.”

Jimin's fists closed by his sides as he searched inside his chest and focused. He could hear your stable heartbeat and sense you were arriving home safely, but that was it. What if he had hurt you in ways he couldn't sense? More than breaking your heart, what if he had done enough damage that you wouldn’t be able to walk away unscathed like he promised?

“I… I'd feel it, right?”

Hoseok finally turned to him. “I don't know. We don’t know anyone who has found their muse to ask, either. Besides, you already love her. I'm not sure if a bond would feel much different.”

Jimin closed his eyes with a muted groan and raked his hands through his hair multiple times; he had loved you for so long, it felt like his whole life. He also didn't know if there would be a difference.

“What are you going to do?” Hoseok asked, and Jimin stopped to look at him. “You can't leave her in the dark like that. You can't.”

His insistence printed on Jimin's heart, but he still looked away. “It's better this way.”

“What?” Hoseok frowned. “Why?”

“It's not safe for her.”

“Sounds to me like she's safer with you than anyone else. No one dared to come near her with you around, even when she smelled so injured and sweet.”

Jimin pressed his eyes for a moment; he couldn't help it. He could hear the other vampires in the vicinity, the same as Hoseok. The humans, too, same as everyone else. But it was his kind that smelled the traces of blood on you, which could have been dangerous, but not while he emitted such an aura — he would destroy whoever would dare to touch you. As simple as that. He couldn't control it, you were—

He sighed, “I'm keeping her safe. It's my fault she was bleeding, so…”

“So?”

“I have to protect her.”

“Do you?”

Jimin huffed, starting to dread Hoseok questioning his every thought.

“I mean, sure.” Hoseok shrugged. “She smells sweet, but no one would dare harm her in this neighborhood. You know our rules.” Jimin's jaw twitched, and Hoseok wondered, “So why do you think she needs protection? Maybe you could kill two birds with one stone and protect her while you love her.”

Jimin's jawline hardened. “I can love her from afar.”

“But why would you? Seems to me like she wants you close.”

“We can't be together,” he whispered, and Hoseok chuckled. Jimin insisted, “If she becomes mine… her life as she knows it will end. Eventually, at least. Family, friends… she'll have to let go of what she knows. She won't ever build a family. She'll have to sacrifice everything and step into this dark world she doesn't understand.”

“Sure… But you're her fate,” Hoseok said casually, and Jimin couldn’t deny it, even if he looked down. “Maybe she doesn't even want all those things humans want. Have you asked her?”

Jimin's lips pursed before he pressed them quickly. Hoseok didn't wait for an answer; he patted Jimin's shoulder and got back to his place behind the front desk, leaving the youngest to his devices. He knew Jimin hadn't asked you. They both knew there was so much left unsaid and unexplained by Jimin, just as they knew why that was.

Jimin was too afraid of your decision.

>Click here for Part 2<

200 notes · View notes