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glossdebut · 2 months ago

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PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork.

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too.

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress.

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren��t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough.

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses.

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way.

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them.

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion.

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him.

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once.

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up.

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case.

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter.

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile.

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp.

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems.

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi.

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast.

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway.

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong.

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know.

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him.

It’s not like it’s a lie.

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm.

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

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euphoricfilter · 3 years ago

Text

To Build A Home (Part Ten: Final)

Final: How to build a home

Pairing: Ot7 x 9 tailed fox Hybrid! Reader

Fox Hybrid! Jin, Human! Namjoon, Human! Yoongi, Wolf Hybrid! Hoseok, Cat Hybrid! Jimin, Wolf Hybrid! Taehyung, Fox Hybrid! Jungkook

Genre: Hybrid AU || Fluff || Angst || Smut || Strangers to lovers AU || Best friends to lovers AU

Summary: You figure out the world's little secret.

Word count: 16.7k (i’m so sorry)

Tags/ warnings: fluff, minimal angst, comfort/ healing, lots and lots of people in love, smut (three scenes) which include: unprotected sex, she's on birth-control which isn't mentioned (safe sex is cool-remember that), creampies, spit used for various things, handjobs, oral (f. receiving), fingering, implied rimming, manhandling, thigh fucking, cum play, double penetration, belly bulge, knotting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, dom/sub undertones, spanking, doggy, squirting, dick riding, pre-negotiated safe-words/ boundaries, mild breeding kink, slight dumbification/ slight degradation, cum eating kinda i guess.

Notes: i can't believe i said soft smut in the last chapter... this is also my first time writing anything like this so feedback is welcome! part of one end scene references something in the first drabble i wrote about the m/c and jin, i don't think its necessary to read it but for context it may help.

i also have an extra scene that i'll post that i had to cut out of this chapter because it was starting to get long, called: 'the old man and his wife' which just needs to be edited.

and finally: i want to to thank everyone that's kept up with this fic, i've enjoyed watching familiar usernames popup in my notifications and to everyone that's sent in an ask or commented telling me how much they've enjoyed the series or specific scenes they liked, i sincerely hope you live the best life. i'll continue to work hard on my other works and hope you can all enjoy them just as much as you've liked TBAH!! and my inbox is open to all of you lovelies if you ever just want to chat or requests or anything really!! I hope you're all healthy and happy :D

my full masterlist

this series' masterlist

extra scene : the old man and his wife

+++

“Can’t sleep?” Jimin whispers into the silence of his bedroom.

You lightly shake your head, wary that if you moved too much, you’d wake up Taehyung who was clinging to your tails like a lifeline. And you can only wonder how Jimin knew you were still awake. You wanted to ask him the same question, but the words felt like tacky treacle clinging to your tongue.

It had been two weeks since you’d gotten home, the dull throb of what used to be your tail was no longer there. But sometimes when you were left alone, or like now—in the silence of the night with nothing but your friends’ soft breathing as your company, you could still feel it ache. In your mind you felt like you were being dramatic, that you could feel the lost weight of one of your tails. No one treated you any differently, if anything everyone became a tiny bit clingier, scared that you’d vanish if they ever let you go; a little frantic when you were out of their sights for an extended period of time.

Jimin hums, and you hear him shuffle before his hand softly brushes your hair from your eyes. You close them, hybrid ears twitching as his fingers skim the base where they moulded into your scalp.

You’d like to believe that you were okay, that you weren’t still scared and constantly on edge even in the safety of your own home. You hadn’t stepped outside since you’d gotten back from the hospital, even sitting in the garden was a quick affair, where you’d ask Taehyung to at least sit in the summer house with you. (Which he would always accept, his brows furrowing in worry). You’d seen an article written about the incident online by one of the activists that had helped that day, Hyerin had called asking if you had read it and if you were okay. Worried that you didn’t want your face plastered on an article that had been read by thousands at that point; Jungkook would tell you how the numbers would continue to climb each time he refreshed the page.

You’d told her they didn’t have to take it down; you hadn’t read it and you never planned to scroll past the title and first picture, but if it was informative and showed people the inhumane way hybrids were treated then you didn’t mind if it was publicised. You supposed the more aware people were, the better, even if it meant shedding layers of protection, vulnerable before the eyes of what you can only assume to be hundreds of thousands of faceless people sat on the other side of a screen.

A week after you got home, you’d asked Namjoon and Yoongi to move in with the rest of you. They spent most of their time here anyways, and instead of coming to visit after work and driving home gone midnight they might as well move in. You’d assured them they shouldn’t pressure themselves to make such a big decision and they had no obligation to move in with you, but they were both overjoyed. (You thought you saw a tear or two in Yoongi’s eyes)

They’d both taken a few weeks off work, ready to move their stuff into your home. And slowly everyone had started to fall into a routine over the last few days.

Like any other day, yesterday had started off like the rest; that was until you had skipped upstairs to call Yoongi for lunch.

He had been cleaning his bathroom, and the smell of bleach had flung you into a full-blown panic attack. The producer had been stunned; never having seen you break down so quickly. He worried you would pass out with how quick you were breathing, your chocked sobs flinging him into action. When he asked later, sat at the foot of your bed as you lay there exhausted, you’d told him you didn’t remember it happening. He asked if you remembered Jin coming up and helping and you just shook your head. And then he asked if you remember the other few times you’d panicked over the last week and you’d just looked at him, confused. Because you couldn’t remember.

Jin had asked you last night if you really didn’t remember the evenings where he would startle awake because you’d thrown up or cried until you passed out. He assured you it was nothing to be embarrassed about, that you could tell him anything, but you were genuinely confused because you had no recollection of any of those things happening. The only semblance of those events happening were your drained body and sore throat the coming mornings.

You’d like to think you were strong, that such a common cause of pain—one that so many of your own people faced, wouldn’t affect you as badly as it has. You like to think that because you knew what to expect in those few days that everything would be fine. And you hated to admit that it wasn’t.

You didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want the pain of those few days to drag on because you were exhausted. Even when sleeping your mind never seemed to fully shut down, you always wondered why even with 10 hours of sleep you were still exhausted in the morning. Dragging your feet out of bed, only to crash on the couch beside Yoongi and sleep the rest of the morning away.

Taehyung had found you the next evening, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. Silently watching as you swallowed a sleeping pill. It had gotten to the point you would do anything just for a decent night’s sleep, just a few hours where you dreamt of nothing, dead to the world; even if that meant relying on tiny little pills in daunting little bottles that stood out like a sore thumb in the bathroom cabinet beside the pink first aid kit and dull boxes of painkillers.

You’d frozen upon seeing him, palms starting to sweat like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Technically you hadn’t, but it was the vulnerability of the situation that seemed to put you on edge. A fleeting moment of weakness from you when you acted like your life was peachy, like you were okay. And you could only pray that he wouldn’t ask where you’d gotten the small pills from, unsure Hyerin would be able to ward off the wolf if he got mad.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, simply outstretching his hand for you to take. You wipe your sweaty palms on your shirt, heartbeat slowly quietening in your ears as you realise, he wasn’t mad, nor did he seem disappointed.

He doesn’t say anything to Jungkook who lazily scrolls through his phone on Taehyung’s bed, simply motioning for you to lay down next to the fox.

You flop back onto the bed, eyes trained on the ceiling, moments away from the sleeping pills kicking in. You start to feel drowsy, body finally taking a well-deserved, and well-needed rest.

Jungkook looks over at Taehyung with a raised brow, the wolf waving him off as he flicks the light on in the bathroom.

They’d all noticed your lack of energy, all noticed how you would try to delay bedtime. Claiming to be on a good page in a book, or you wanted to watch the sequel to a movie they knew you found boring. They’d noticed your hybrid ears that would flicker from the smallest sound, how you’d brush them off when they asked if you were okay, blaming your animal instincts. None of them were insulted that you seemed to think they were oblivious to what you were trying to do, if anything disappointed in themselves; feeling as though maybe you didn’t trust them enough to confide in them during such a hard time.

Jungkook only watches as you curl up by his side, tongue peeking through his lips to wet them as the tap runs in the bathroom; Taehyung brushing his teeth. He asks the grey wolf what had happened, sensing the elder’s mood was worse than it had been before he’d left the room to go and get you.

What was meant to be a fun movie night was suddenly cut short with you dozing off to sleep minutes after your head hit the pillow and Taehyung occasionally frowning at you as you clung to Jungkook’s side.

+++

Six months after the incident you’d realised healing wasn’t a fast process. It was gruelling, and hard and so extremely frustrating.

Healing was never going to be an overnight process; you were never going to wake up days after coming home and feel… normal. And that frustrated you, because why couldn’t you just move on from what had happened over those few days? You felt as though you were walking up a never-ending staircase, the door to freedom on the tips of your fingers, but the climb to the top seemed to stretch on the further you went.

Reflecting on your life had always seemed somewhat awkward; taking time out of your day to just think about your life and how you were living it, but over recent months you found yourself looking back on the past, picking apart the moments of genuine happiness; whittling down events until you could pin-point exactly where everything had started to go wrong.

Maybe your healing should have started years ago when your owner died, instead you chose to blow out the flame of anguish and pretend you weren’t hurting inside. Maybe the event from months ago had finally pushed you over the edge, the final push you needed to start new; start on an empty slate and rebuild your life, one where you’re happier.

And maybe healing was the foundation of this. The first few steppingstones to rebuilding your happiness.

However, it was frustrating. How hard trying to heal yourself was; it felt as though you’d progress miles only to be flung back to the start of the race, the finish line so far away. And you were exhausted, utterly exhausted of being so on edge, always looking over your shoulder when you’d go out, and cowering behind someone in the kitchen when the doorbell would trill throughout the house.

You’d become so reliant on sleeping pills and anxiety-meds you felt like your own life was crumbling before your own eyes. Crumbling between your family’s fingers, like sand as they tried over and over to help you process your own fickle emotions.

Reflecting on your life had become an easy pastime, your memories playing like an awfully scripted movie behind your eyelids as you lay in bed, wishing you could turn back time to when everything was okay. When you were naïve, uncaring of the real world and all its problems because you had Jin by your side and your owner keeping the two of you safe. Some may argue that’s ignorance, and you wouldn’t deny it because that’s exactly what it was. And no matter how overused the term ‘ignorance is bliss’ may be used, it was true. You were happiest when you were an ignorant child that had no care or knowledge of the world and its big problems.

And by no means did you want to become an ignorant human being; people must grow up at some point and you are no longer the naïve little person you once were. You can be well versed in the world while still being happy. You can try to create change while still being happy. Finding happiness as an adult is always going to be different than when you are small, you can still be responsible and happy; so, it felt a little desolate comparing the past of your happiness to looking at the future and building up that same bubbly feeling.

You’d started to wonder how much would change if you and Jin had gone against your master’s wishes and helped more around the house when he was clearly too ill to work. You wondered if you saved up your monthly allowance and paid for the best medical care your city offered, would he still be alive? Would you and Jin live your lives as a three, the perfect little family you’d always dreamt of as a child. Fantasising about having what seemed so far out of reach, only for the world to bless you, handing Seokjin and your owner on a silver platter. Only for the universe to drag one of them away from you too soon.

If your owner lived you probably wouldn’t have met Taehyung, or Jungkook. You would have never stumbled across Namjoon on that rainy afternoon, and you would have never known Yoongi existed; maybe finding him online, liking the songs he produced but that was as far as your knowledge of him would be. If you hadn’t met Taehyung, Hoseok would have been another pitiful case that worked hard to earn their stay in the restaurant. And maybe Jimin wouldn’t have stumbled into your garden, you doubted he would have stolen from you with a human in the house.

You felt guilty, imagining a life without the people you’ve come to love so much. Each day the 8 of you learning new things about each other. Falling deeper and deeper into the bliss of love and adoration for one another.

You’d seen the way Hoseok would linger by Yoongi’s side. The older producer uncaring as Hoseok clung onto him while cooking. How Jungkook and Taehyung had stopped bickering constantly, hands on thighs, never keeping them to themselves, or prolonged gazing across the room that always ended up with them sneaking off into a bedroom when they thought no one was looking. Always in each other’s little bubble.

And if you caught Jin and Namjoon kissing in the kitchen late one evening, you didn’t say anything until said fox came to bed with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips that stretched into the biggest smile when he gushed about how perfect of a man Namjoon was.

You felt guilty when you imagined a life without the others. You didn’t know what sort of relationship you all had; but you never thought to ask. A mutual understanding that you were all in a way—exclusive.

You suppose you and Jin had been skipping around labels for years, simply laughing when your owner would ask what you were to each other. Siblings wasn’t right, siblings didn’t get handsy, didn’t kiss with so much fervour with bare skin and wandering fingers in places that siblings shouldn’t touch. But neither of you had exactly been dating, merely living under the same roof, growing up by each other’s side. Neither of you ever working up the courage to ask the question that could make or break your relationship.

+++

12 months after the incident you feel as though your life was slowly getting back on track.

Naturally you didn’t always feel like you had progressed from that day, it was easy for unwanted thoughts to weave into a person’s mind and plague their emotions; but you had 7 boyfriends to help you when bad days felt like a little too much.

Yep. Boyfriends.

Plural.

Because it seemed everyone in your household had enough love to go around.

Taehyung had gotten sick of tiptoeing around everyone, sick of having to drag you into a room for a long kiss, out of the way of possible prying eyes or walking in on Hoseok and Yoongi rutting against each other like pre-teens in the laundry room.

So, he sat everyone in the living room one night and confessed his feelings. From that point everyone’s own emotions were spilled like dominoes; and it wasn’t all that surprising when the feelings seemed to be mutual. Happily whispered confessions with rosy, red cheeks and dopey smiles on all of your faces. That weird high of being confessed to by the person you really like fizzling through all of you, buzzing off the knowledge that you were just as loved as you had love to give.

From that point it was a slow process of being more openly affectionate. The unspoken rule—that just because you weren’t dating meant being openly affectionate was a little weird—that shrouded the house still ever-present even months after your confessions. But once everyone had gotten over the initial unease of starting a relationship, with multiple people; something new for all of you—life seemed a lot more fun to live.

Easy kisses shared between sips of sweet hot chocolate, tongues tangled during movies, and hands held on top of the table during dinner. It hadn’t taken you very long to learn of everyone’s love languages; noticing how from the very moment they had stepped into your home; small acts of love had been shared between all of you.

Having known Jin the longest, you knew his love language was buying gifts. And it warmed your heart whenever he would come home with a small gift bag, explaining he couldn’t just leave the small trinket that reminded him so much of his little loves; and it would sit proudly in the living room on display. A reminder that Jin loved each of you more than any words would ever be able to explain.

Unsurprisingly, Yoongi’s love language was quality time. With work being demanding, he’d started to value his time with each of you, individually or as a group. Although embarrassing, he felt as though spending time with all of you was healing, something so soothing and joyful having you all sat close to him. He liked helping Jin and Jimin in the kitchen, even after a long day in the studio, he’d let Namjoon drag him on long bike rides of an evening, and he was more than happy to brush yours, Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s tails while the three of you played video games in the living room.

You’d noticed how the lyrics he wrote had also started to merge into something sweeter, the usual harsh lyrics that stained the pages of his notebook feeling a lot lighter and airier these days. Far from cliché love songs that you heard on the radio each morning, raw emotion that only Min Yoongi could make sound so poetic and pretty, and maybe he didn’t realise himself that as he would play you a song he’d been working on recently, backtracking to demos he’d kept hidden in files on his computer; the more recent songs had small parts of your family weaved into each song.

Instrumentals that had similar aspects to the songs Taehyung adored, lyrics that were vague enough that it wasn’t obvious the song was being written for a specific person—or people in this case. But you spent so much time with you new family that you could point out the small quirks Yoongi mentions in a few of the recent tracks, like how Namjoon loved the outdoors, how Jimin could come off as defensive but was just a small ball of fluff in reality, how Jungkook was hard headed but ever so passionate about what he did—a work ethic that many were jealous of—how Hoseok’s smile could light up the whole room (arguably cliché, but Yoongi called him his sunshine so you gave him bonus points) and how everyone in your relationship was far from perfect but perfect in their own unique way that Yoongi adored.

You believed Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook had similar love languages, each of them thriving off physical touch. It wasn’t an uncommon sight for Taehyung to have his legs hung over Jungkook’s at the dining table, or Hoseok shielding Jimin with a back hug while they danced around the kitchen as the moon spilled in through the double doors in the kitchen. You liked holding Jimin’s hands while you whispered secrets to one another in the silence of the night, with no one but the stars to eavesdrop on your conversation, you liked when your knees brushed against Hoseok’s when you both built Lego, and you absolutely adored when Jungkook and Taehyung would slip into yours and Jin’s bedroom past midnight to sleep with the two of you.

Namjoon’s love language was veering towards words of affirmation, never one to shy away from sending you all texts on how he missed you as he worked. Always remembering to tell you all he loved you before you all slept. Occasionally you’d find small notes around the house, little poems about how much he admires each of you or words of encouragement when he knows you’re having a bad day. Namjoon was always so patient, uncaring when the younger hybrids would roughhouse him after a long day at work, watching with fond eyes as everyone settles down for dinner kindly prepared by Jimin; your family finally complete, with the 8 of you all chatting away about your days, aspirations, plans for the future. And Namjoon would listen intently to all of it, mentally noting down the snippets of new information he would learn about each of you.

And you always felt warm, the good kind of warm when everyone’s future seemed to include each other. And it was reassuring that what you had now was long-term. No one was going anywhere, and this house—one that had so many bad memories, was slowly but surely being washed of those bad moments, this home filled with more love than there ever had been.

8 hearts intertwined, brought together by fate—maybe to help each of you heal in your own ways. And healing had started to feel easier when you were surrounded by such lovable, understanding people. Healing felt worth it when you bared your heart with no added layers, shedding away walls like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon, being handled delicately by those that admire your beauty. And maybe having people that encourage your wings to sprout, unfurling into something so beautiful is the final push you needed to start running towards your future.

+++

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper to Taehyung, trying your best to keep your huge smile at bay as you lay facing one another.

But it’s useless at his reply, “Because I really love you” he whispers back—and you can see it swimming in his eyes, a love so pure that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, his own body drawing closer to yours like you were two sides of a magnet; an unseeable force pulling you towards one another. Not that either of you were complaining, with Taehyung’s large hand rubbing tight circles on your hip, and your fingers tracing his prominent collarbones—there was no place either of you would rather be. Isolated from the outside world, with nothing but one another as company.

Your own eyes soften at that, hand coming to caress the soft skin of his cheek, stubble prickling at the tips of your fingers as you trace his jaw. Taehyung leans into your touch, eyes closing momentarily as he basks in the comfort of this moment. Selfishly wishing that time itself would stop so you could stay like this forever.

You’d both snuck out of the house, a wave of déjà vu washing over the two of you from the first few weeks of knowing each other; hiding away in the summer house where the outside world would be forgotten while you learnt more about each other, and you’d live in each other’s affluence; curtains drawn closed to cocoon the two of you from what may live in the real world. The loud chatter of the other 6 parts of your family shut off behind varnished doors and sheer curtains; the expanse of the garden feeling a lot bigger when it was just the two of you hidden away. Hundreds of thousands blades of grass acting as a barrier to your hideout while the rest of your family joked around in the living room.

“I love you too” you’re able to whisper before Taehyung is leaning forward, his lips slightly hovering over yours before he closes the gap, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. A beautiful, innocent kiss that has you melting into Kim Taehyung, his lips tasting faintly of the iced tea you’d had that afternoon, sun-kissed skin melding into one another.

You hum into the kiss, mouth parting when the strong muscle of his tongue flicks from between his lips to prod at the seam of your own. A silent question, asking for permission to explore you further. You oblige, head feeling hazy with love—and slowly growing arousal. You figure you’re not the only one who has slightly obscene thoughts plaguing their mind, as Taehyung’s hips jut forward rhythmically—bulge of his slowly hardening cock nudging the sacred mound between your thighs.

Taehyung’s fingers tangle within your hair as he pulls your further into himself, his head tilting just enough for the kiss to deepen comfortably. You feel his tongue lick at the roof of your mouth, a low grunt reverberating from his chest as he takes his time exploring, tasting what he can only describe as something so wholly you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed—nor was it the first time you’d kissed like this. But to Taehyung, every time he shared such an intimate moment with you; it felt like the first. Like each time his tongue would slip past the seam of your lips, he’d get to explore you all over again. Slowly relishing the feeling of you. You who was so perfect, pretty, smart, kind, everything that has ever been good in the world. Taehyung liked you so much it was hard to contain himself sometimes. And no matter how hard he tried to engrave each and every ridge of your body, how your tongue felt lapping at his mouth, or your plush, kiss swollen lips pressing against his own—every moment Taehyung spent with you always felt new. Always refreshing, bold but equally as innocent and exhilarating.

Two lost souls finally intertwining into one, two pieces of the puzzles sitting snug by each other’s side.

Taehyung feels complete when he’s with you.

And often times he feels guilty, for the all the lewd thoughts he has of you when only the moon is there to witness the sinful acts he plays out in his bedroom—but you were so pure that he couldn’t help but imagine all the ways he could claim you as his own. A primal instinct, but Taehyung’s learnt to embrace his animalistic tendencies.

Sharing you with 6 other people was hard, and Taehyung wasn’t going to admit he was perfect. Jealousy was common at the start of whatever you all had at the time, the ugly, green feeling fizzling up his spine until he couldn’t help but snap at his Hyungs; because he just wanted you all for himself.

Guilt had played a large part of his life when he first moved in with you—jealous of what you and Jin had, jealous that it wasn’t him that had been in your life for so long, experienced new things with you like the fox had. Jealous when Jimin had joined you, your attention suddenly divided by three. Jealous when you spoke so fondly of Yoongi and Namjoon—betrayed even, that you had trusted human people so easily. The very beings that hated, shunned, belittled your kind when they were the ones to blame. Guilt consuming him because you cared for these people and he couldn’t help but act like a spoilt brat who didn’t like to share what he considered his.

But Taehyung had learnt that your heart was so full of love, you didn’t love him any less now that you had more people in your life. Stretching your heart out enough to fit everyone inside, making sure everyone was loved equally. If he was a musician, maybe he would write a song about how you were the epitome of love, so lovable with so much love to give.

Love, love, love.

He loved the word love. Because it reminded him of you—pretty little you, who he couldn’t imagine his life without. All thoughts of his future including you sat by his side. His pretty little baby.

You both release a shuddering breath, lungs greedily gulping for oxygen when you finally decide to part from the kiss with a lewd pop. But it’s only moments before Taehyung pushes himself to lean on his elbows, bringing your lips back to his own for another ravenous kiss.

This kiss is less leisurely, more feral this time, no care for teeth clashing or your saliva being shared from one mouth to the other as his tongue pushes to meet your own. Taehyung caresses what he can only assume to be his and your own spit from your chin with his thumb, mouth leaving yours to push the concoction of your own saliva onto your waiting tongue.

Your plush lips close around his thumb as he pushes down on your tongue.

Taehyung groans, “You’re always so messy, baby” he pulls his thumb from your mouth, caressing your spit over your bottom lip, his own quirking up into a cocky smile as he watches it glisten in the dim lamplight of the summer house.

You whine at that, “You’re fault that I get messy” you argue and Taehyung grins wide at that—enamoured by how cute you could be, even in such a compromising situation.

“Open wide”

You do as your told, lips parting with your tongue falling past your bottom lip. Just how Taehyung likes it.

You watch carefully as Taehyung gathers a wad of saliva in his mouth, his fingers gripping your chin to make sure your mouth stays open, and your panties damped when he spits into your mouth, rivulets of slick pushing past your hole, staining the cotton material in your steadily leaking essence. You make a noise in the back of your throat as his spit slides over your tongue.

Mockingly, Taehyung shakes your face—grip on your jaw tightening slightly as he leans down to press a kiss on your bottom lip, teeth nipping at the swollen skin, with what he deems to be the prettiest shade of red; and he can only imagine his own lips were a similar colour to your own.

“Swallow” he finally let’s go, your own finger come to caress your aching jaw, “Good girl” he groans when you open your mouth to show him.

Your hands slip under his shirt, fingers lightly trailing over his happy trail before they skim over his stomach—not as toned as Jungkook or Jimin’s but so perfectly Taehyung you rush him to pull his shirt over his head.

You sigh, happy as you take in his naked chest; pushing yourself to sit up so you could kiss over his collarbones—rightfully worshiping his honeyed skin. A little tanner than it had been that morning, but you’d both been lounging in the sun all afternoon.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume Taehyung was sculpted to rival the beauty of Adonis. A bold claim, but you stood by the statement. Because not only was his face the most beautiful piece of art you’ve ever seen, but his body was so soft, well taken care of, and just ever so pretty you never knew what to do with yourself.

The grey wolf doesn’t shy away from your ogling eyes, expression morphing into something a little cockier as he lets your eager hands roam the expanse of his torso. Eyes clearly avoiding the evident bulge in his pants, and he wonders if it’s because you like to tease him. Or if you really were just distracted with your hands trying to hold any piece of bare skin available.

“Taetae?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

And Taehyung feels his sweatpants grow incredibly tighter as you look up at him so innocently—so obliviously pretty and so, so delectable. He wonders if you know the hold you have on him, how you have him and the rest of the guys wrapped around your pretty little fingers, the same fingers that inch closer and closer to the waistband of his sweatpants. He wonders if you know how he would do anything for you; all you had to do was ask.

“Yes, my love?” he brings a hand to come and softly caress your cheek; he’d always liked slow loving more than the feral fucking that the other guys enjoyed. That didn’t mean he didn’t like it a little messier though, the primal, more feral part of his brain liking the idea of knocking you up and keeping you safely by his side until you both grew old, precious little children running around the garden as you both watch with fond eyes.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, fingers toying with the strings of his sweatpants. And he finds it so cute that even now, you still ask for his permission; still somewhat jittery when it came to getting intimate with any of the guys that weren’t Jin, but he supposes he’ll just have to remind you who his body belongs to.

His head falls back as he groans, hips bucking up to try and get some sort of friction, biting down on his bottom lip when all he gets is the small gap between your bodies. Dumb puppy wolf brain begging him to free his bordering-painful erection and slip into the slick heat between your thighs.

“Of course. You own my body, doll.”

Your fingers slip past the waist band of his sweats, only to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“You whore, you knew this was gonna happen” your fingers wrap deftly around his cock, teasing lilt to your voice.

Taehyung leans forwards so his head can rest on your shoulder as you help stroke him to full hardness, a speedy process considering he was sure most of the blood in his body had rushed downwards the moment his tongue lapped at your own.

“Actually, I don’t sleep in underwear” he retorts, no real venom in his tone; voice a little breathy as you squeeze him teasingly. But he lets you toy with him, happy that he has some sort of release—he was never too fussy when it came to you.

Your sluggish strokes come to an abrupt stop when the door to the summer house clicks open, flung carelessly so it hits the wall. Loud bang making you jump.

Taehyung chokes out a moan as you squeeze the head of his weighty cock, eyes wide with surprise as Jungkook and Jimin halt in their steps.

You open your mouth, words stuck on the tip of your tongue as both of their eyes trail downwards—to where your hand is stuffed into Taehyung’s sweats, evident lump where your hand holds the head, suddenly unmoving as your brain works a mile a minute to process that the cat and fox had stormed into your intimate time with Taehyung.

Mirth swims behind both of their eyes, shameless in the way they stalk forwards toward the bed. You let out what could only be described as a squeak when Jungkook pulls you up onto his lap as he makes himself comfortable on the bed, your hand slipping from Taehyung’s pants as Jungkook gets you both into a comfortable position, your tails wrapped perfectly around his waist so your back can sit comfortably against his chest.

You turn towards Jimin, eyes wide as he just looks down at you with that same amused glint in his eyes as when he had opened the door. Any words that planned to slip through your plush lips fizzling to nothing as you realise Jimin wasn’t about to help you.

Jungkook’s fingers trail down your stomach, bringing your focus back onto him as they slip past the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

The tips of his fingers trace the lacy trimming of your panties, teasing you as they don’t travel any closer to the pulsing heat between your thighs. Your hips buck upwards, trying to get Jungkook’s fingers where you needed them. And you let out a pitiful whine when his thumb just misses your pulsating clit, begging to be touched.

“Oh, you poor thing” Taehyung leans forwards, a mocking pout on his lips as he places a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

Pitifully, you snivel, your head falling back to lean on Jungkook’s shoulder as you look up at him with pleading eyes. Hoping that maybe he would be merciful enough to at least toy with you throbbing pearl.

“Mind if we join you, baby?” he asks, pretty doe eyes taking a serious edge to them.

You will your mind to be somewhat coherent. Because you knew that if you didn’t verbally answer, all of this would stop. A rule that had been negotiated early on in your relationship, along with safe words, boundaries, and proper after care routines.

“’s fine kookie” you whisper, lips pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw.

Satisfied, Jungkook hums; his fingers inching closer to the damp patch that darkened the pink fabric of your panties.

“This wet, just from getting Taehyung off?” the fox coos, his other hand taking a firm hold of your jaw—making you watch Taehyung undress at the end of the bed.

“Like making Taetae feel good” comes your reply, which was soon followed by a moan as Jungkook’s thumb circles your clit; the sensitive little nub making you jolt in the fox’s lap. A mean laugh bubbling up Jungkook’s throat as you moan.

You turn to look at Jimin who sits on the edge of the bed, his own hand tucked into his pyjama bottoms as he teases the tip of his slowly growing cock. You wiggle around in Jungkook’s lap, mild embarrassment crawling up your spine as Jimin just watches Jungkook’s hand tease you—veiled behind the thin cotton of your pyjamas and fully aware of the heavy bulge that presses against your back as your rock back and forth, silently begging for Jungkook to play with your clit again. The fleeting stimulation he’d given you enough to have you begging for more.

“Oh, you’re sopping. Just a needy little bitch that needs to be fucked full of cum, yeah?” Jungkook supplies, condescending in his tone as he rubs a finger over your clothed slit.

Taehyung scoots up towards the head of the bed where you and Jungkook sit; all clothes discarded on the floor somewhere. Your eyes fixate on his length, head a deep red as it slaps against his stomach with each jittery movement he makes, precum staining the tan skin of his stomach as it glistens in the dim orange light of the lamp.

Eagerly you lean forwards to wrap your fingers back around his sizable cock, there was something so…sating having Taehyung’s heavy length wrapped in your hands. But Taehyung stops you, lacing his fingers with your own to keep your hands from enclosing around his shaft.

You look up at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion; and Taehyung laughs at how endearing you are. Always one to please others and not worry about your own pleasure. But he planned to make this about you, how could he be selfish enough to care for his own release when he had you sat before him.

“Let me take care of you, pretty” he tells you in a low whisper, pressing another kiss between your furrowed brows to ease them as his hands trail down your sides.

With Jungkook’s help, your pyjama pants are slipped off of your legs (it wasn’t easy with such thick tails, but you managed), knees involuntarily bending inwards as the cool air of the summer house brushes against your bare core, the slick that had trailed down your thighs starting to feel tacky against your heated skin.

It doesn’t take much for Taehyung to pry your legs back open, not when Jimin leans forwards to trail sticky fingers under your shirt to play with your breasts, his own precum slippery as he pinches your hardened nipples; earning a soft whine from you at the stimulation.

Taehyung leans falls tummy first on the bed, no shame whatsoever as he eyes your pretty pink pussy, lips glistening with so much slick he doesn’t think you’ll need much prepping at all. He watches as you hole clenches, hypnotising, eagerly asking to be touched, to be played with.

Taehyung doesn’t waste another moment before he surges forwards, tongue licking a bold stripe through your slit up towards your clit, the hood being pulled back by the thick muscle of his tongue.

You let out a shuddering moan, hands finding purchase on Jungkook’s biceps and Taehyung’s finger’s spread you apart so his tongue can prod at your entrance.

The wolf is unashamed as he laps up your slick like a starved puppy, which only spurs you into producing more as it trails further downwards—Taehyung pulling your ass cheeks apart, making sure he licks up any slick that spurts from your hole as it starts to soak the base of your tails.

Jimin helps you lift your shirt over your head, apologizing when he accidently smacks Jungkook in the nose. Said fox trails his hands down your body, tattooed fingers thrumming at your sensitive clit as Taehyung pushes his tongue into your awaiting hole.

Your back arches, so many hands making you feel good at once, the evident arousal that seeps from all four of you, Taehyung’s tongue ruthlessly scooping mouthfuls of slick from your hole and Jungkook’s pretty hands playing with your clit becomes too much. But it all felt so good.

It’s when Jimin’s eager finger pinch your nipples, you feel your stomach clench, thighs shaking as they close around Taehyung’s head. He knows you’re on the brink of your first orgasm, so he eases a finger into your hole, his own moan vibrating against the sensitive lips of your glistening cunt as he feels you clench around him. Jungkook doesn’t stop the tight circles on your clit, determined to help bring you over the edge.

“Can I cum, please?” you ask, frantic as your hips buck against Taehyung’s tongue.

“So polite” Jungkook coos, “Of course you can, baby”

You moan loudly as you come, head falling into the juncture of Jungkook’s shoulder as your thighs shake around Taehyung’s head. He pulls his finger from your hole, tongue lapping up your cum as it slowly leaks from between your swollen lips.

Slowly Jungkook stops his circles on your oversensitive pearl, not wanting to hurt you. You have to sluggishly push Taehyung’s head away from between your thighs, his tongue pushing you into overstimulation as he cleans you up.

Taehyung looks like a slick drunk puppy when he finally pushes himself to sit up, eyes a little hazy as he just looks at you limp in Jungkook’s lap—the fox still fully clothed as he runs his hands over your sides, helping ground you from the leg shaking orgasm you just experienced.

The wolf’s chin is covered in a sheen of your own slick and cum, you wouldn’t put it against him to say that some of it was probably his own drool as well.

“I have to get back inside and cook” Jimin announces, eyes looking warily at clock hung on the wall.

You whine at that, fingers tugging on his shirt.

“You’re still hard, Mimi. You can fuck my thighs if you want, I need a moment before I can go again anyways”

Jimin throws his head back, painfully hard cock twitching in the confines of his pants at image of you pliant underneath him while he gets himself off.

“You sure, little fox?” he asks, worry evident in his tone. He didn’t want to wear you out if you were already tired. Plus it looked like you had two other horny hybrids to sate before dinner that evening.

You smile up at him, heart feeling full as Jimin worries over you. You simply nod, pulling him down so you could give him a gentle kiss to his plump lips. You both share a moment, seemingly forgetting that you had two audience members.

Taehyung starts stroking his length, nothing that would actually get him off but enough stimulation that his erection wasn’t painful.

Jungkook leans back on the bed when you and Jimin part, your own hand coming to scoop a wad of slick from your cunt as Jimin pulls down his pyjama pants just enough to free is stiff cock.

Jimin had the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, curved perfectly and the head a deep red that you’d considered on more than one occasion maybe you would suck it. (Which was very out of character for you because blowjobs were a big no go). But now wasn’t the time, as your fingers lather up his pretty cock with your own arousal, more of it leaking from your hole as you watch his length glisten.

Jungkook tries his best to keep your tails at bay, but eventually gives up as a few start to sway back and forth.

You push your thighs together, Jimin helping you fold them up to your chest as he pushes his cock through the seam of them. Grunting when he feels the wet, plush skin squeeze his length.

You close your eyes, relishing the feeling of Jimin’s body weight helping you keep your legs bent, the wet squelch of his cock between the meat of your thighs along with his timely grunts were a reminder that you were making him feel like that. You were making Jimin feel good.

Taehyung continues to stroke himself at the end of the bed, imagination running wild as he imagines himself in the cat’s position. Your fleshy thighs squeezing his cock, a hairs length away from the tip nudging your clit.

You jolt forwards when Jimin does accidently stimulate the bundle of nerves, his own apology dying on his tongue as his hips speed up, find a rhythm that draws him closer and closer to the edge.

His own toned thighs slapping against the back of yours reverberates across the four walls of the summer house, your own higher pitched moans harmonizing with Jimin’s as the tip of his cock continuously bumps into your clit with each forward push of his hips.

“So pretty, and perfect. Just a cock hungry whore, you couldn’t wait, could you? Wanting me to fuck your thighs so soon after Taehyung and Jungkook had given you an orgasm”

You hear Jimin let out one final moan before you feel his cum drip onto your mound, your legs being pulled open by the cat as he strokes his length—aiming the tip at your entrance so his cum starts to drip down your slit.

Without thinking, he pushes the head of his softening cock through your slit, watching as his own cum gathers at the tip before he’s smearing it around your clit—a dopy smile on his face as you whine at the stimulation.

He takes your cheeks into his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he’s pushing himself off of the bed, pulling his underwear and pyjama bottoms back up before he’s skipping over towards the door.

“Dinners in an hour, try to finish by then. Love you”

“Think you’re ready to go again?” Jungkook asks once Jimin shuts the door to the summer house, his own cock feeling suffocated as he’d been waiting patiently for his time to come.

You nod, “Want both of you”

Taehyung chokes, “At the same time?”

You give him a knowing smile, and Taehyung throws his head back, groaning. What was he gonna do with you?

“Come here then, I’ll open you up while Jungkookie gets undressed”

Eagerly you scramble from Jungkook’s embrace, giggling when you accidently brush against his straining erection, flopping into Taehyung who catches you with a wide grin on his face.

He helps pull your legs apart, licking his lips at the way a mixture of your arousal and Jimin’s cum stains the inside of your thighs, eagerly waiting hole creamy as it beckons Taehyung to come closer.

He easily slips a finger inside of you, and you don’t flinch, more than used to the long fingers of Kim Taehyung pushing past your velvety walls. A second finger is soon slipped past the ring of muscle while Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head.

Your hips jump when the pads of Taehyung’s fingers prod at the spongy tissue, a happy smile on his face as he starts to assault your g-spot before he scissors his fingers to try and stretch you open a little more.

Before the two of you can get carried away, his fingers leave you, and you whine at the loss of contact; hips eagerly chasing after Taehyung’s hand.

He shushes you, pushing his fingers past the seam of your lips to make you taste yourself, hints of Jimin’s cum mingled somewhere in your own slick. Taehyung’s other hand helps you fall back onto the cushioning of your tails, helping you lift your hips, so your thighs rest comfortably over his own before he pulls his hand away from your mouth; using your spit to slick up his cock before he lines it up with your entrance.

“You sure you want both of us, small thing?” Taehyung asks, worried maybe you were biting off more than you could chew.

“Yeah” you reply, tone breathy as Taehyung runs the tip of his pulsing cock through your slit, running your arousal down his shaft.

You let him take his time, knowing that this is going to be just as much of a challenge for him as it is for you. And you can see the crease in his brow as he contemplates if he really wants to do this, inexperienced in this field of sex.

“I’ve done it a few times with Yoongi and Namjoon” you confess, in no way wanting it to seem as though you were comparing him to the others; only hoping to ease his worries slightly.

You both knew you weren’t made of fine china, nor would you break if they acted a little rougher with you. Jungkook wasn’t the most modest in bed, more than happy to throw you around to his will, fuck you like there was no tomorrow and push your own limits. (With a lot of aftercare of course, he was a sucker for sharing baths, lathering up your body with his soap, and then cuddling for the rest of the night, massaging lightly scented oils into the kinks and knots of your muscles that he may or may not have been part of creating).

That seems to spur Taehyung on, pulling your hips up as he lines his cock up with your entrance, slowly pushing the tip inside before pulling out, testing the waters.

He hadn’t prepped you all that much, two fingers only doing so much when you planned to take both his and Jungkook’s cock at once. And Taehyung wasn’t going to act modest and say he was small in size; it was no secret how well-endowed the wolf was.

He pushes the tip back through your opening, groaning as he feels you clench around the head, body begging him to push further into you.

He takes his time, rocking back and forth, biting his lip as your greedy hole stimulates the sensitive head of his cock, “You sure this little thing can take two cocks, sweetheart?” he asks, head falling back as he pushes another inch into your tight walls.

You fervently nod, hips trying to grind down on more of Taehyung’s length, a breathy moan escaping you as Jungkook starts to circle your clit. With you rhythmically clenching on his length, Taehyung surges forwards, his pelvis flushing against your own as he slowly starts to rock back and forth, grunting when your legs wrap around his waist to keep him buried deep inside of you.

Jungkook’s hand gets trapped between your bodies, uncaring as he continues to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“I have to stretch you out, pretty” Taehyung murmurs against your ear, hips grinding into you.

“Like feeling this full” you let out a long breath, pulling Taehyung impossibly tighter as you feel his cock twitch. The glare he sends Jungkook’s way a tell-tale sign the fox had meanly squeezed his balls.

You giggle, mind feeling a little hazy; drunk off love and probably animal mating pheromones. The air smelling a lot sweeter than it had when you and Taehyung first snuck into the summer house. The smell of varnished wood drowned out by the floral scent of Taehyung and Jungkook’s pheromones, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Ready to be bred full, sated with their thick, creamy cum oozing from between your thighs.

It takes a moment, but Taehyung is able to pry your limbs from out his body, watching as Jungkook’s hand inches down towards your hole. Being the muscle pig that he is, it takes Jungkook no effort to gently lift you from the bed, placing you back in his lap, his own hard cock jolting as the soft fur of your tails brush against the tender skin.

By some miracle, Taehyung is still sat inside of you, hips languidly pushing forwards in small circles to keep both of you stimulated while Jungkook gets comfortable.

When Taehyung notices Jungkook’s fingers circling your hole, he comes to play with your clit—hoping to somewhat relax you as Jungkook pushes a finger in beside his cock; you hole straining around the added girth.

You let out a moan, any qualms about the rest of the house hearing what you were up to flung to the back of your mind as you squirm in Jungkook’s hold.

He shushes you gently, kissing at your neck as Taehyung’s hips come to a stop.

You whine, eyes brimming with tears, “Don’t stop, please Tae” you cry, hips rolling to try and get Taehyung moving again.

He obliges, arms caging your upper body as he leans down to press a kiss to your cheeks, salty tears coating his tastebuds as he starts to rock his hips back and forth; Jungkook easing a second finger in beside the first, his thumb thrumming at your clit.

You let out a borderline pornographic moan when Jungkook’s finger’s push the head of Taehyung’s cock right into your g-spot, that, mixed with feeling so full has you reeling towards a second orgasm—still on edge from Jimin teasing your clit when he was getting himself off.

With four fingers and Taehyung’s girthy cock stuffed into your hole, Jungkook deems you prepped enough to lodge his own cock into you as well.

When he slips his fingers out of you, you let out a shuddery breath, hole clenching, Taehyung moaning as Jungkook’s nails rake at the base of his cock.

Times feels like a blur between Jungkook pulling his hand away from your heated core, and him lining his shaft up next to Taehyung’s; but a chorus of moans rings throughout the summer house when Jungkook manages to push the tip of his steadily leaking cock into you; Taehyung feeling winded at how tight it felt.

They’d both been edged for long enough, that there seemed to be a mutual understanding this wasn’t going to take very long for you any of you to come—your walls stretched beyond belief with Taehyung graciously flicking your clit.

Ever so patiently, Jungkook starts to feed his length into you, moaning when you clench particularly hard around both of your boyfriend’s lengths.

You can feel Taehyung’s heavy puffs of breath tickle your collarbones as he tries to stay still—scared he’d hurt you if he were to suddenly move, and it was taking all of his will power to keep his hips in place. All you can let out is pitiful whimpers as Jungkook carefully rocks into you, your cunt gushing around both of their cocks on a particularly jittery thrust. Your cunt trying to accommodate to both of their girthy cocks.

You can feel sweat travel between the valley of your breasts, and you think it must be a mix of your own and Taehyung’s as he takes a moment to breath.

Once Jungkook is fully seated in you, you let out a shuddery breath.

You feel so full.

Stuffed so much you think you can feel both Jungkook and Taehyung rearranging your insides.

It’s when Taehyung pushes himself to sit up, stiff cock pulling at your walls, he moans.

You feel his fingers prod at your stomach before you can even think to look down, but when you do you feel another wave of slick gush out of you; coating Taehyung’s steadily forming knot and Jungkook’s balls in your arousal.

Right beneath Taehyung’s hand was evidence of how big the two of them were, his hand stroking over the bulge in your lower stomach like he was jacking himself off over the taunt skin of your tummy. All three of you moaning when he presses down experimentally at the bulge.

“Please move” you manage to choke out; absolutely mesmerised as the bulge would disappear when Taehyung pulled back, forming once again when he snapped his hips forwards.

Jungkook chooses that moment to look over your shoulder, an unashamed groan bubbling up his chest as he watches your stomach flatten out when Taehyung moves out, only to push back up at your stomach again.

“Oh your fucking pussy is tiny, isn’t it baby?” his voice comparable to a growl.

Its only moments before Jungkook cums, Taehyung’s thick cock rubbing against his own, your small cunt squeezing him like your life depended on it, mixed with the clear visual of you being stretched apart so much he could see both of their cocks in your stomach was enough for him to shoot his load deep inside of you.

You feel the sticky white cum coat your walls, making you feel impossibly fuller as he starts to rock his hips upwards, chasing his high while making sure you milked every last drop, he had to offer. Taehyung can see the small rings of creamy cum sticking to the bases of both of their cocks as they rock in and out of you, coating your plush pussy lips with thick, white cum.

“Good girl, taking everything I have to give you. You like that? Like having my cum inside of your greedy little cunt?” Jungkook coos, condescending in his tone—grinning when you can only reply with a broken moan of his name, mind barely there.

“Oh Jungkookie, all she can think about it our cocks. The poor things too stupid to answer” Taehyung mocks, devilish smile on his face when you shake your head, blubbering. “She can’t even form a proper sentence. It’s okay doll; Taehyungie will take care of you”

You’re about to whine about Jungkook’s cum pushing out of your hole as he slips out of you, only for Taehyung to shove his thick knot into you—ever so close to it popping. And you start to see stars behind your eyes, Taehyung’s voice drowning into nothing more than white noise as your own hips grind to meet Taehyung’s.

Jungkook helps you reach your own orgasm, fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit at Taehyung’s knot catches onto your hole; nothing more than shallow thrusts and grinding possible as he chases his own high.

The wolf leans down, sharp canines biting down on your nipple, and that has you cumming. You feel your body curl in on itself as Jungkook continues his onslaught on your poor clit—uncaring as you start to sob, too oversensitive and so close to another orgasm.

You think you cum again when Taehyung’s knot pops, the feeling of his cum flooding your insides enough for another orgasm to wrack through your body, causing you to shudder as you lay back onto Jungkook’s chest. Said fox runs his hands over your sides as your hips twitch up. Taehyung’s knot slowly deflating, filling you with more of his milky white cum.

Taehyung slumps forwards, slowly deflating knot and softening cock remaining inside of you as you both take a moment to breathe; Jungkook’s hands coming to brush Taehyung’s sweaty bangs from his forehead before he presses a firm kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you” Taehyung whispers, and you smile; eyes closing as you let your body rest.

+++

As promised, you allowed Jungkook to take you on dates once the situation was over and you felt like your life finally had some semblance of what it once was.

And to say he was the perfect gentleman would be an understatement.

He booked reservations in advance, wary that some of the places you wanted to visit were popular and it may be hard to get a table if you just showed up on the night.

He learned to bake, knowing you had a sweet tooth and wanted to watch you eat the cake he made with his own two hands while on a picnic. A part of him comforted knowing he was the one that made all the pretty sweet treats for you. And maybe he just liked to hear you compliment him, your validation sending him over the moon. And on some days, he even got a kiss on the cheek as a thanks while you lounged in the sun! (Anything that happened when the two of you got home would remain your little secret).

In spring you’d both walk around the park, hand in hand—and maybe you two were that sappy couple that single people cursed at for the excessive PDA, oblivious to their ogling eyes when Jungkook would lean down and press a strawberry sweet kiss to your lips, sharing ice cream or giggling over an old woman’s cute dog that would chase your tails. Jungkook think’s his favourite season is the spring; where flowers bloom in an array of colours, carpeting the expanse of parks and greenery, the grass vibrant virescent, the air floral and fresh. Jungkook loved the spring because it gave him the excuse to buy you pretty pastel dresses that fell past your knees, letting you sit on his jacket so your clothes wouldn’t get mucky from the soil; the sun acting as a canopy as you spend afternoons basking in each other’s embrace.

Summer you would spend by the pool together, spoonfulls of ice cream shared between sticky kisses. Hybrid ears matted with chlorine water while the sun caressed you skin, even in the summer heat you sat knee to knee, occasionally dipping into the water to cool off. And if Jungkook picked you up, throwing the both of you into the deep end just to get a rise out of you; that was a secret he was taking to his grave. When summer rolled around, Jungkook’s favourite season changed too; he loved the summer, driving both of you down to the beach. He wouldn’t mind if Namjoon asked to tag along; the producer leaving the both of you alone while he went crab hunting. Jungkook, never one to back down from a competition would challenge other beachgoers to sandcastle competitions where you would be his trusty decorator, the two of you winning more tacky stuffies as the prize from the nearby beach hut than you had space for. (Jin had built a new shelf for you to both display your small prizes, giving both of you a kiss when you tell him you’d won)

In the autumn he’d take you to marketplaces, watching as you pick out small pieces of jewellery for the other guys; tongue peeking through the seam of your lips as you focus on which fits each of your boyfriends best. Jungkook teasing the others with pictures of you and himself with matching outfits and quint accessories that you picked out for each other. And in those few months, Jungkook thinks autumn is his favourite—indulging you by buying all the pumpkin flavoured treats you would see, even though he knew you wouldn’t like them. Jungkook liked autumn because as the two of you strolled around the park, you would tell him how his fox tail and ears reminded you of the season. His auburn fur a similar colour pallet to the leaves that fell like confetti over the two of you as you rested under a tree. Squirrels of the same colour clawing their way up the thick trunk, head tilting your way when Jungkook’s laugh got a little boisterous.

In winter, Jungkook would take you ice skating, feeling as though he was your own knight in shining armour as he would pick you up when you’d fall; finding you most endearing when you’d swat at his arms, mock anger being thrown his way as you brush ice from your clothes. Both of you drinking hot chocolate as you watch kids build snowmen in the park; a few older kids having snowball fights. When winter rolled around Jungkook believes that maybe winter was actually his favourite season; because the two of you spend time inside, blissfully domestic as you sit by the heater with matching fluffy pyjamas and socks, 2000-piece puzzle being forgotten as you lay across his lap; Jungkook’s fingers carding through the soft fur of your tails.

It had taken him a while to realise that he didn’t need a favourite season, he just liked spending time with his favourite person. He’d never been one to like activities where you had to sit down, his patience similar to that of a child; but he’d come to realise he just didn’t have to right people to sit down and just… relax with. Take time out of the day, recuperate and recharge with the people he cared most about.

Jungkook loved everything when it came to you, he liked certain vegetables because they were your favourite colour, wore certain fabrics because he knew you were fond of them, and he seemed to always catch his flushed cheeks in the view finder when a commenter on his stream would ask how you were doing; apologising when he would babble on about you for 10 minutes to his viewers instead of loading up the next level of his game.

It had been close to two years since the incident happened; and slowly over the course of time hybrids had started to integrate more into society.

Evidently there were still small pockets of people that didn’t agree with hybrids being so close knitted into human’s lives; still turning their noses up at the mere sight of them, venomous words spat in the direction of innocent hybrids that were only trying to live their lives; free of trouble.

But you felt that the world was finally changing. Slowly—but it was the evident change that mattered.

More restaurants were open to serving hybrids, and rules on hybrids going out alone without supervision was becoming laxer. You felt more comfortable exploring the city alone, shop owners more than happy to help you when you looked a little lost, and stall owners tipping their hats your way when you’d smile, walking by their store.

When there’s light, shadow is to be expected. Hybrid activists had started to knuckle down on facilities; helping free ‘failed’ hybrids—sending them to well established care centres and helping them set up lives outside of the city where they wouldn’t be shunned. But peaceful protests could only get people so far. No laws planned to be established about ending the experiments on foetuses, the government still pumping out hybrid children like produce in a factory, and only so many facilities could be overrun by essentially powerless individuals who have better moral values than the pompous assholes that work in politics.

+++

You’d just spent the afternoon with Jungkook, he’d found a small lake further out of the city where you’d spent the day dipping in the water; eating sandwiches in the back of his car with fluffy towels wrapped around your shoulders. That evening however, Jungkook had to stream; leaving you at home with Hoseok, Yoongi and Namjoon while the other three were out on their own little date (not their words, but yours).

You were lounging by Yoongi’s side, his arm lazily slung over your shoulder while Hobi was flat on his belly across the sofa while Namjoon sat on the chair.

The movie was innocent enough, a typical coming of age story with boringly attractive cast members and a cliché plotline. To no surprise it was Hoseok’s choice; Namjoon nor Yoongi wanting to disappoint the wolf allowed him to pick what he wanted.

When a steamier scene started to play on the large screen, you didn’t think much of it. Familiar with random sex scenes being worked into sappy romance films even if this was on the family channel. You supposed production companies were trying to broaden their audience.

Your nose twitches when the sweet scent of arousal penetrates the air, and like tumbling dominoes, it’s only moments before you can start to feel yourself slicken up. Panties sticking to your folds uncomfortably.

You look over at Hoseok, who’s already staring right at you. Yoongi asks if you’re okay when you start to fidget beside him, thighs rubbing together to try and alleviate some of the steadily growing ache between your legs.

Namjoon watches as Hoseok pushes himself to sit up, hungrily pouncing for you; his lips smacking onto your own for a heated kiss. You let out a strained moan, partially because you just bit your tongue, and partly because Hoseok’s lips felt so nice against your own.

You manage to pull back for a greedy gulp of air—long string of saliva snapping between the two of you when you both sit back. You manage to catch the wide eyes of Yoongi sat beside you, pupils blown as he takes a moment to catch up with what he just witnessed.

“Did you really get horny from a movie sex scene” you manage to pant, teasing lilt to your voice.

Hoseok just frowns, fingers taking a hold of your shirt before he brings his lips back towards yours; kiss softer this time.

“Maybe” he murmurs, his lips a hairs width away from your own.

You close the gap between you, fingers trailing down his clothed torso to the evident bulge in his jeans. You palm him over the rough material, drinking down each and every moan that he lets out as his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips.

With hesitant hands, you feel Yoongi behind you start to trail his hands over your stomach, thin summer dress doing nothing to hide your hard nipples as Hoseok grinds up into your hand.

When you part, your eyes meet Namjoon’s—even in such a situation he always looks so calm and calculating.

“Joonie” you beckon him over, “want a kiss”

Never one to disappoint, Namjoon pushes himself from the chair—sauntering over towards where the three of you were on the couch. He leans down, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss as Hoseok’s wandering hands slip up the skirt of your dress, deft fingers rubbing over your covered slit; groaning at how damp the material was.

“You’re soaking, sweetness” Hoseok tells you once you and Namjoon part, your mouth falling open in a soft moan as Yoongi pinches your pert nipples.

“Just for you” you manage to squeeze out, hips rocking back and forth over Hoseok’s hand.

He smiles devilishly at that, pushing your panties to the side to gather your slick from your leaking hole. He smears your wetness around your folds, tips of his index finger barely pushing into your pulsating hole.

You grind down on his hand, palm nudging your clit perfectly as your fingers scramble to help clip open his belt. Sensing your desperation, Namjoon helps you, gently pulling your fingers away from Hoseok’s jeans to help get them off.

At some point, Yoongi had stopped his teasing at your breasts, unclipping his own belt, pulling his jeans down and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

“Keep the dress on, you look too pretty” Hoseok tells you when you go to take it off, pulling your thighs to lay over his own so he can take your panties off.

“Bend over, baby” comes the wolf’s harsh tone, and you do just that. Flipping the skirt of your dress over your bare asshole, tails falling limp over your back, face and chest laying on the sofa as you present to Hoseok like the dumb puppy you were trying to please the larger wolf.

You feel him palm the plush cheeks of your ass, thumb teasing the rim before his hand stoops lower, index and middle finger dipping into your clenching hole. His other hand swats at your skin, lip bitten back by his teeth as your skin flushes a dark red with each slap to your left cheek.

Namjoon groans as he watches slick spill from your hole, body subconsciously aware of the pheromones Hoseok must be pumping into the air. When you look up to what Yoongi was doing, you catch sight of him stroking his cock; not as girthy as the others but definitely the longest, curved in the perfect place to make you see stars whenever he fucks you.

You reach out, slim fingers wrapping around his shaft as you start to stroke him, his own hand dipping to squeeze his balls.

Your mouth falls open when you feel the blunt head of Hoseok’s cock pull your cunt open, stretch immense as he slowly feeds all of his length into your awaiting hole. Head thrown back as you squeeze his length—begging for him to shoot his cum right into the back of your cunt.

“Feel good, darling?” Namjoon runs a soothing hand over your back, biting back a moan when Hoseok decided to start jacking the younger producer off.

“Really good” you let out a long sigh when Hoseok bottoms out, pelvis flush against your plush ass cheeks.

Yoongi throws his head back when you start to speed up your strokes, fingers feeling sticky with the amount of precum that was leaking from his slit—momentarily you pull your hand from Yoongi’s shaft, bringing the tangy precum to coat your tongue. You hum, spitting into your hand to help lubricate Yoongi’s length more before you went back to stroking.

Hoseok chooses that moment to start rocking his hips, small circles to help you adjust around his thick cock.

“Think this small cunt can take my knot?” Hoseok growls, the only semblance of a warning you get before he starts jackhammering into you, well-rounded thighs rippling each time he thrusts into you.

You blabber, almost incoherent as you call out his name, fingers falling tighter around Yoongi who chokes out a long moan.

You think you feel Namjoon’s slender fingers trail underneath your body, using your own arousal to slick up your clit. You jolt forwards when he starts to rub tight figures of eight on the small bundle of nerves.

“You close, pretty?” Hoseok moans, pleasure consuming his whole body as you clench around him.

You nod, hand slipping from Yoongi’s hard cock as you grab onto the fabric of the couch, your moans in tandem with Hoseok’s as Namjoon continues to flick at your clit.

You feel a gush of wetness spray from your cunt, Hoseok and Namjoon’s groans echoing in your ears as you rock your hips back to meet Hoseok’s thrusts. He quickly pulls his length from your pussy, guiding his cock to slap over your clit, watching as another gush of wetness squirts out of you onto his abdomen; dripping to coat the base of his cock in your juices.

“Holy shit” Hoseok breathes, languidly stroking his length—coating it in your release, “Baby you just squirted”

You release a shuddering breath, thighs still shaky as your hips fall onto the couch, legs twitching as you take a moment to breath.

“Did I?” you manage to croak out, thighs clamping shut when Namjoon goes to run a finger through your slit. You feel his finger wiggle against your clit, and you feel tears run down your cheeks in overstimulation.

“I’m sensitive Joonie” you whine, hips bucking.

“Want me to stop?” he continues to flick at your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“No” you moan, slowly closing in on a second orgasm.

Hoseok watches as a gush of your cum leaks from your cunt, drippling down to where Namjoon continues to flick at your clit, skirt of your dress falling over your ass.

You look over at Yoongi, the tip of his cock bordering on purple as he watches your thighs clench an unclench.

“Can I ride you?” you watch the older producer’s eyes widen, “Just don’t touch my clit and I think I’ll be fine”

“You sure?” he asks, hands already moving to help you sit up.

You place your thighs either side of Yoongi’s, hand falling between your bodies to grab at his long shaft while the other holds up your dress so Yoongi can watch where the two of you connect. Carefully, avoiding your sensitive clit, you push the head of his cock past your velvety walls.

Your thighs strain as you bounce in Yoongi’s lap, grateful when you feel Namjoon’s fingers wrap around your waist to help lift you up on the eldest’s cock.

Yoongi can feel your silklike walls squeezing his length, your own cum from your prior orgasm dripping down to his balls, loud squelching of your sopping cunt rivalling your moans.

Hoseok’s fingers skim the base of your tails causing you to slump forwards, falling onto Yoongi’s chest.

You feel his cock twitch, nudging perfectly into your g-spot before he cums. Milky white semen glazing your walls. You continue to bounce in his lap, helping him ride out his high.

He has to hold your hips down, mainly because he wanted to keep his cum deeper inside of you, but he was also slowly nearing being painfully overstimulated.

And Yoongi groans when he looks down as you lift yourself off of his cock, your cunt squeezing his gooey release back onto his length.

“Think you can go one more time?” Hoseok asks you, helping you stand as your legs were still shaky.

“Yeah” you turn to look over at Namjoon, “But what about you?” you ask the younger producer.

He waves you off, hand already trailing down his stomach to take a hold of his cock, “I don’t mind cumming on your tits”

You let out what could only be described as an unattractive snort as you let Hoseok position you how he wanted, malleable in his arms as he gets comfy.

You can feel each ridge and divot of his girthy cock as Hoseok pushes into you, your walls oversensitive from the constant stimulation you’d had paired with the multiple orgasms Namjoon and Hobi seemed to wring out of you.

Hoseok’s pace is a lot softer than he had been, enjoying being able to hold your hands while your legs rested over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms flexing as he leans down to press a firm kiss to your lips; thin string of saliva dangling between the two of you when he eventually pulls away.

Rhythmically Hoseok rocks into you, fingers gently squeezing your own as you fall over the edge for who knows what time that evening. You shudder, long drawn moan spilling past your lips as you orgasm, less intense than the prior ones but equally as pleasing.

Luckily it seemed Hoseok’s knot was catching onto your rim, your spasming walls massaging his length; enough to bring him over the edge. His knot locks in place, keeping the two of you breathing heavily as Hoseok’s thick cum splatters deep into your cunt.

You hear Namjoon moan, his cum dribbling onto your chest second later as he strokes his length. What you don’t anticipate is Yoongi kneeling over your head with his long cock enclosed in a tight fist.

Your eyes squeeze shut, Yoongi’s low groan the only warning you get before his cum shoots over your chest, joining Namjoon’s own seed. The younger of the two producers smearing the mixed concoction over your nipples.

A drop or two falls onto your forehead, Yoongi scooping it up with his index finger before pushing it into your mouth.

“You guys hungry?” Namjoon asks as he pulls his belt through the loops of his jeans.

You and Hoseok turn to look at each other, eyes trailing down to where you were still locked together, “Might have to wait a while hyung”

+++

You stare at the run-down building, worried maybe you had bitten off more than you could chew buying Jin a restaurant—or what will be a restaurant. Currently it looked a little worse for wear, and you’re pretty sure you saw a few rats milling around like they owned the place. Which is definitely a health hazard, but you didn’t know the number of the local rat terminators, plus you didn’t want them killed. What if one of them was a chef, like Remy? And he could help Jin run the place.

You knew Jin would probably be angry, mad that you’d spent all your inheritance money on the raggedy old building just because he once had a dream.

And to him it may have been a fleeting moment, nothing more than a dream—something so far out of reach he gave up chasing it all those years ago when it was evident that he would never own his own restaurant. To you however, Jin having such an ambitious dream had always left you in awe. And while maybe he buried the idea of having his own quint, little, hybrid-run eatery in the dark crevices of his mind, you always awaited the day you could surprise him with the perfect place and enough money to make it his own.

Food was more than a basic human need in Jin’s life. His cooking brought people together, made you all sit around the table as a family and bond while you ate the meal he graciously prepared. Hours spent after longs hours at work cooking for the two of you after your owner died and you had no one but each other left in the world. Jin learnt to cook meals that brought the two of you comfort, encouraged you to start your own garden, both of your hobbies working in tandem with one another; you were occupied during the day and Jin got to cook with your homegrown produce.

You would have never met Jimin if it weren’t for your garden, nor would you have ever bonded with Namjoon over a similar interest. Food meant the world to Jin and Jin meant the world to you.

Lazy afternoon spent as teenagers binging cooking shows, Jin remembering recipes off by heart after only hearing chefs explain them once. Evenings spent around the table, giggling at jokes around Jin’s cooking, your owner always looking a little healthier than he had that morning thanks to Jin’s meals.

You remember the exact moment he had spilled his secret dream, embarrassed you would find him too ambitious and laugh. But you’d listened to him, watched the excited glint in his eyes as he explained every miniscule detail about what he wanted his restaurant to look like, from the wallpaper to the tables, to the menus. Maybe Italian in style, but he worried people would think he only sold Italian food, and a greasy American diner didn’t fit the aesthetic of his cooking; homecooked, hearty meals made for the people you love. So you told him to create a design of his own, something that stood out.

He’d spent hours that night telling you of his dream, and maybe that was the moment you realised you were in love with him, more than a housemate or an older sibling. You loved Kim Seokjin because he was modest, humble when he could easily brag about his immense skills in all areas of life, he had vocation, a dream so wholly him you could only admire him, he was kind, patient—answering all of your questions, helping you when he was busy.

You just really loved Jin.

Sometimes when you love a person, it’s hard to find the right words to explain how much you, well, love them. It’s hard to put into words your admiration for someone without sounding like a broken record, overused words of endearment and cheesy compliments had never felt like enough because if everyone else in the world could say them, then what was so special about your love for that particular person.

After everything Jin had done for you, ‘I love you’ didn’t feel like enough.

Of course, you hoped Jin knew that you loved him—you loved him more than life itself. But you felt the best way to truly cement your feeling for him, was to give him the final push to quit the dead-end job he currently worked at and took the final leap towards his long-time dream.

You aren’t sure why you feel so nervous when you get a text from Jungkook announcing he would be arriving with Jin in less than 5 minutes, maybe it’s because you don’t know how he’ll react, what if he doesn’t like the layout? Or the area? What if he just didn’t like it because you thought you’d be a little righteous and force a whole new responsibility onto him. You tried to remember as much of his description as possible, not worried that the building was more expensive than the other places you’d viewed as it was closer to the CBD, perfect for business, even if the place was going to be run by a hybrid.

You planned to hand off the last of your inheritance money to Jin for decorating, wanting him to create his dream restaurant. It’s not like you had much use for it anyways, with Namjoon and Yoongi’s wages enough to cover food, with Hoseok now working for money rather than rent and Jungkook making more off his streams than he had when you first met him, money wasn’t ever going to be an issue. So, you’d much rather hand it off to Jin who would use it for something worthwhile.

You choose not to turn around when you hear the engine of a car rev behind where you’re stood, ignition clicking off before the doors open.

Jin comes to stand beside you, his arm falling comfortably over your shoulder as he looks up at the gritty building.

“You okay, sweetheart? Jungkook said you had a surprise?”

You look over your shoulder at Jungkook who leans against his car, a smile that you can only assume was to be encouragement gracing his pretty face. “You remember when you told me you wanted to own a restaurant?” you ask, watching Jin’s side profile as his eyebrows crease, cogs of his brain whirring away.

“Yeah?” he turns to look at you and then back at the building, pointing at it, his eyes widen in surprise.

“I know it’s not much but it’s in a good area so business should be good, and I have the rest of my inheritance money for you to decorate the place just as you dreamed” you explain, biting your lip.

Jin stays silent, eyes raking over the dingy building. You feel your heart drop to your stomach when his arm slips from your shoulder, maybe you’d gone too far.

“You did this, for me?” he asks, hesitantly taking a step closer to the building.

“Of course, once you told me you wanted to be a chef, I decided I’d save up for your own place” you explain, rocking back and forth on your heels.

Jin turns towards you, and you’re a little taken aback by how glossy his eyes were. You let out a squeak when he pulls you into his chest. And you open your mouth to complain that you could feel your ribs cracking under the pressure of his hug but choose not to when you hear Jin snivel, pearly tears falling onto the crown of your head like the rain does in spring.

You wrap your arms around Jin’s torso, your own eyes glazing over with saline tears as you feel his body shake. It’s not often Jin cries, he always had the idea that he had to be the stronger one for the two of you; so you couldn’t help but feel that tell-tale little lump form in your throat as you feel your own emotions catch up on you.

“Why would you spend your inheritance money on this… this silly little dream?” he pulls you away from his chest, eyes glassy as they meet your own.

“Because it was never silly, Jin. Do you know how cool I thought you were when you told me?” you smile up at him, hand snaking between your bodies to wipe away the tears that ran down his cheeks.

“What about your money?”

“I don’t really have a purpose for it, so I’d much rather you have it” you wave him off with an easy smile, “Besides, Jimin was excited to start working here”

“Oh, my little fox” Jin cries, pulling you back into his chest. You let him hold you, rubbing his back as you feel his body shake, arms tightening around him when he lets out a loud sob. You don’t need to ask him to clarify if they were happy tears, the mumbled ‘I love you’s enough for you to gauge that maybe you did do the right thing.

You seem to forget about the world around you; you and Jin in your own world. Uncaring when a man walks by giving you guys the side-eye, or when an overexcited stray circles around your legs.

“Thank you”

+++

Later that evening you find yourself sat opposite Jin in the large bathtub, your knees pressed against each other as the mirrors fog up with the steam that whisps from the scalding hot bathwater.

Jin reaches across his lap to take a hold of your hand, bringing up to his lips to place a delicate kiss to each of your fingers.

“Thank you, for making my dream come true”

You shake your head, “It’s all thanks to grandpa, it was his money anyways”

“I think he’ll be happy, knowing where our lives have led us” Jin pulls you closer to his body, droplets of water slipping down his defined chest. You watch the water ripple around the both of you, whirring of the in-bathroom fan white noise as you allow yourself to gather your thoughts.

“I think he’d be proud, we stopped moping around and made a big change in our lives” you supply, “But I feel like no matter what, whether he was alive or dead, fate would have brought all of us together no matter what” you refer to your other 6 boyfriends who you can now hear laughing downstairs.

“You think so? We wouldn’t have gone to visit Taehyung if he hadn’t died”

“I guess not, but I think you forget why we went to that specific facility. A week after we brought Taehyung home the hybrids rioted, broke free of that shithole; so, I think fate would have brought Taehyung to us anyways” you smile, “Everything worked out in the end, so maybe all of the hurt was worth it”

You really had been thinking about your chance encounters with each of the boys, how far you’d all come from when you’d met years ago. Broken people with brittle hearts and not much hope in the scary world. But together, life seemed a little better.

“We could have gone about the problem a different way” Jin muses, running a wet hand through your hair.

“Probably, but there’s no point regretting the past when we have the whole future ahead of us. Together”

“When did you get so wise” Jin throws his head back laughing.

“Since I started hanging out with Namjoon” you joke.

Jin feels your hips start to rock forwards, soft flesh of your thighs rubbing against his slowly hardening cock.

“We have to go downstairs soon, the others will be wondering where we are” Jin sighs, hands falling to your waist to help you rock over his length; words not reflecting how he really felt. Not when he encourages you to run your slickened cunt over his length.

“We can be quick, they know that we like to spend a long time in the bath anyways” you let out a soft moan as the head of Jin’s cock runs over your clit, parting your slit before catching onto your hole.

You use the edge of the tub to help push yourself up enough before you grab onto Jin’s cock, thumb teasing his slit under water before you guide it towards your waiting hole.

When you sink down, water sloshing around the two of you, you both let out long, drawn out moans. You feel Jin’s nails sink into the skin of your hips, the rhythmic clenching of your walls around his length enough of an indication for Jin to start gently thrusting up into you.

Your hands cup his cheeks, hips rolling languidly to meet his own thrusts as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his plush lips.

Jin’s tongue licks up at the seam of your mouth, silently asking for access, you oblige moaning as you feel the wet muscle of his tongue lick up into your mouth.

You part with a wet pop, your legs clenching around the outside of Jin’s thighs as his pace quickens, determined for you both to reach your end. The fox’s hand trails from your waist, between your bodies down towards your clit, his fingers coming to rub tight circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I love you” you moan, hips bucking against Jin’s as plants his feet on the floor of the bathtub, pushing up into you harder.

“Love you too” he flicks at your clit, both of you uncaring as water splashes over the edge onto the tiled floors, bathmat working hard to soak in the water that you both spill. You come before Jin, a loud moan ripping up your throat as he helps you ride out your high, your hands coming to grab at your breasts as you roll your hips.

Jin comes inside of you, hips stuttering as he coats your walls with his release; his head falls back against the wall, heavily breathing as you slump onto his chest.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you” Jin whispers, head leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“And I wouldn’t know what to do without you” you look up at him with a smile.

+++

You and Jin stand in the doorway to the living room, 6 pairs of beady eyes looking at the both of you with knowing smiles on their faces.

“Have a nice bath?” Hoseok pipes up, teasing lilt to his voice.

You supposed if the obvious moans coming from the bathroom weren’t a dead give-away, both of your flushed red cheeks certainly were.

“Very nice, actually” you tell him, falling over Taehyung’s lap. The wolf’s fingers falling to card through the damp fur of your tails.

If anyone were to walk past your house, they’d see the lights on in the living room; sheer curtains pulled closed to give you a little privacy. And if the crickets were a little quieter, they’d be able to hear the loud laughter of Hoseok as he bounced around the living room, Jungkook hot on his tail as they mimicked the actors on the TV while Jimin filmed when and the rest of you stifled your giggles.

If someone had walked past your home years ago, maybe they would have assumed the house was abandoned, scrappy old car in the driveway with more than half of the home’s curtains closed. Dead silence from those that resided inside.

Now, you kept your owner’s old office open, the key tucked neatly away in a drawer in the kitchen. Old photos hung on the walls, and memorabilia neatly tucked into the drawers of the desk. The bookshelf now held both old and new books, Namjoon using up the empty shelf space to hold his own collection while Yoongi upgraded the old computer into something a little more modern.

You kept the office door open, letting a breeze waft through the room. The stale air no more, damp furniture reconditioned, and bad memories replaced with better ones. Newer ones that felt like they belonged in the room that had once housed better times that were no more. The musty old room a reflection of your own wretched emotions, fears you were too scared to face, because letting go of someone you love is hard.

But you can only start healing when you learn to let go.

You and Jin had finally cleared out your owner’s old bedroom too, the small grave you had both build for him remaining, but you’d sent his clothes to charity shops and shredded any remaining paperwork he had left behind, using it to cook marshmallows out in the garden of an evening.

You remember as a child, your owner—your grandpa—telling you that the brightest star in the sky would be your most loved one looking over you when they were gone, guiding you down the right path in life. So, when you look up, the sky clear of any clouds, and you spot that star, one that shines brighter than the rest; you take a moment to wonder if maybe your grandpa was watching over your new family. Happy that you and Jin had found peace of mind and opened your hearts to so many new people.

And you felt happier, sure, there were days you felt as though any progress you’d made was meaningless; life feeling a little too hard to live sometimes. But you couldn’t rush healing. And you wouldn’t rush it because learning about yourself through this journey was healing in itself.

Healing is never going to be a straight line, never going to be a solid path for you to walk down without challenges along the way, ones that push your limits, make you question why you still try even when the end seems too far out of reach. But that’s why you’ve learnt that setting small goals is the best way forwards, one step at a time; why worry about the millionth step when you’re only at the start of the race?

You’ve learnt to try and live life without regret, it’s okay to reflect, figure out what went wrong and find a solution for the future, but if you look back for too long, you’ll only stumble, slowing yourself down. Don’t regret the inevitable, the situations you have no control over, don’t regret what you haven’t done and work towards doing it. Don’t regret what could have once been, because the past is over, and you have the whole future ahead of you.

The path you’d taken hadn’t been the smoothest, nor had it been the most faultless. Afterall you are only human, and perfection is a subjective term, no one is truly perfect. Your plans had flaws and desires beyond selfish when you embarked on your journey of freedom. You’d brought 7 people into your own problem because you couldn’t handle it alone.

But you truly believed that no matter what path you had taken in life, the 7 men that sat beside you now would have caught you when you fell; each path that represented your lives always bringing you to a crossroad, where you’d meet and then walk down the same path, this time hand in hand. Fate working in a funny way to bring all 8 of you together.

And as you watch Yoongi and Jin huddled beside the barbeque, their face glowing from the charcoal lit fire with Namjoon reading to Jimin while Jungkook falls over both of their laps dozing off, Hoseok and Taehyung running around the garden like two puppies, everyone you love all in one place;

You think you’ve figured out the world’s little secret on how to build a home.

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