#namjoon bullet au

[hoseoksluna]

LADY BEETLE | knj

pairing: non-idol!namjoon x oc

genre: situationship au ; sex playhouse ; glory hole  / smut, fluff

word count: 10.4k

summary: when you came to seoul's hidden sex playhouse to forget about namjoon, you didn't think the anonymous mr. kim would actually be namjoon.  

pin: lady beetle / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: sex club setting, oc struggles with her feelings towards namjoon, glory hole but with hoseoksluna twist, engaging in sexual practices with a person you don't know, commitment issues, heated conversations, dirty talk, patience game, counting down (for my neva play girlies), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, face fucking, nipple play, unprotected and rough sex, teacher namjoon, spanking, praise kink, size kink, choking on fingers, rough treatment in general, aftercare, oc and namjoonie smoke together.

note: i daresay this is my best work. :D fuck my life, guys. i need this namjoon like i need air to breathe. if i see any of you wearing panties... TAKE EM OFF NOW. sldjflskdjfsl jk, jk. THE SUPRISE IS REVEALED. GLORY FAWKING HOLE. my babies, enjoy this filth. stream neva play. imagine that deep voice of his.... yeah. yeah....... faaawwkwkjsdlfjsdlfjsdfjslfjsls. ENJOYYYYY. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. MY ASK BOX IS OPEENNNNNNN.

The building looked ordinary from the outside view. Like any other building in this part of the city. Long and tall, coalescing with the evening heavens and with its freckles of stars—very much like those upon your skin. McDonald’s was just down the road, a to-go coffee stand perfumed the whole street with its coffee beans, and a bookstore stood right next to this peculiar piece of urban architecture, unaware of all the sins that lurked behind its walls. 

It may pretend to be pure, with its grand hall, its sophisticated reception and even graceful employees—dressed in the finest of fabrics that glinted beneath the opulent chandelier—but it was just that. 

An act. 

They smiled at you, but in their heart they knew what you were here for. 

In this seemingly normal, ordinary building all your sexual fantasies flare out. In the simplest of words, you come here to get fucked out of the norm that is considered vanilla. You fill out an online application, set the date, the time—and depending on your desire, you even get to see who your dream fulfiller is. 

In your case, you were going into this blind. 

And so was he, your dream fulfiller. 

While you opted to stay anonymous, the only detail you knew about the man was that he was from the cursed Kim clan. Another male that bore the last name like the one who wrecked your nerves to the point that you had to bite the bullet and try this out as nothing else was working. It was a newfound obsession of your best friend, who gifted you a voucher to this place on your birthday. And you weren’t sure if Kim Namjoon had the sixth sense and somehow knew about this, although you’d believe he was very much capable of possessing one, just to piss you off even more. 

You have been crushing on this man since the day you met him at your mom’s small ramyeon restaurant you are working in for her. Since the moment, in fact, you glimpsed at his vintage black Cartier watch with a matching singular bracelet adorning his wrist that he kept calmly on the table while he was on a work call, growling and snapping into the phone. Your mom curled her lips, swatted her eyelashes as she grew hot in the cheeks, chopping green onions for him from her cooking station while you were watching over the noodles. It was her who noticed him at first—and it was her who told you to do your best and seduce him. 

And when you lifted your eyes, saw that thick mane of his cloudy hair, the cleft of his cheek as he gritted his jaw and then that picturesque hand of his, you sensed that unfamiliar, magnetic pull towards him that made you blush. And you never looked more like her than in that moment. 

For some reason you knew better than to not listen to her and do as she says. You felt it was the right decision, the right move and so you fixed your hair, swiped your flower clip through a half of it while your face-framing wisps fell naturally in front of your pink face. Your mom tossed you her lip gloss from the pocket of her apron and you brought him the ramyon she cooked for him. 

Smiled at him. Batted your eyelashes at him like your mother taught you throughout your girlhood and it worked. 

Namjoon told you were a breath of fresh air when you sashayed towards him after such an important, yet aggravating phone call, apologized for the inconvenience, bowed slightly. Balanced, most delightfully, respect and flirting. Leaned more towards the latter when he would steal glances at you and smile at you at every opportunity that your gaze would connect to his. 

Your heart hammered once he came to you to pay for his meal. Your mother stopped whatever it was that she was doing just to beam at him and he personally gave her a huge tip in cash—right into her right hand that he held. Turned to you and asked you if you’d like to have dinner with him sometime. 

And you agreed—without knowing he would get on your nerves in the long run. 

Namjoon was not a serious man, not as he appeared to be. Although he showed you the side of Seoul you would otherwise never have the option to see and feel with your entire being by taking you to luxurious dinners, cafés, art exhibitions and work events—the things he would say and the things he would do did not reflect those settings by any chance. 

He took you from rags to riches and you paid for it by being a victim of his odd form of cute aggression. 

The man would get you tangled up in your sentences because he simply enjoyed the view of you getting flustered. He found pleasure in revving you up enough for you to curse at him and growl at him, be it by bugging you with tickles, pokes or be it by making fun of you until you yourself laughed. 

There was nothing sexual about your relationship, if you could call it that. He didn’t hold your hand, he didn’t regard you hungrily as so many men do in his place, but he did look at you with the rawest form of purity. At your freckles—ones that made him give you the adorable nickname Lady Beetle—at your butterfly tattoo on your ankle that your dress would always expose from its natural criss-crossed position. The things he would say did not contain any hints of this leading into the bed. And he never kissed you, even though there were many occasions, where he looked like he was about to do it. 

He always held back. And while it, and everything else, made you pristinely fall for him, it also angered you so much that there was nothing else you wanted to do but to grab his head and kiss him madly. 

And the other day, you did. 

Leaned in after the heft of your shared tension grew too big for you to hide it in your hands—only for him to turn his head, slightly, and let you merely kiss his cheek. 

That was the final straw. And so you stopped agreeing to his “date” invitations until you stopped replying to his messages altogether. You thought he wasn’t going to have any part of you if he wasn’t willing to properly date you. 

And in your anger, you dwelled in the hole he left behind. The hole that was asking for his fatherly attention that caused you so much extraordinary joy. Your mother must’ve sensed it with her motherly instincts that he would occupy that place in your life, which your father didn’t. Your body missed laughing with him until your tummy hurt—and you missed him. And the more you did, the more your anger blazed. 

You couldn’t get rid of it. 

You tried exercising. You tried running around the block, only to never do it again because you couldn’t catch your breath and you thought you had almost died that day. You smoked a pack after pack, and that didn’t help either. 

Neither did abusing your cunt until you couldn’t go on anymore. Your anger burned down your bedroom and once you groaned and whined, punched the pillows and kicked your legs, your eyes fell upon the voucher you had pinned on your corkboard  

Your remedy was in front of you, and in the worst of your anger—you gave it a go. 

You filled out that application in the middle of the night, one that made you even hornier. And because you didn’t want to see any other man but Namjoon while you were getting your brain fucked out of your head, you chose the only option there was for that case. 

Glory hole. 

And the idea of it made your anger falter ever so slightly. You could imagine it was him pounding you through the barrier. The wall would only help your imagination.

Friday. Seven PM. You had to come two hours early because it was a necessity for you to shower at the place after you signed the contract. You also had to quickly think of a safe word, it was the only thing you foolishly forgot to fill out that day, as lost as you were within your flight of fancy. And because the employee standing in front of you made you anxious, you wrote down the first thing you thought of. 

Beetle. 

Your heart pounded, and when you let go of the pen, the gravity of the moment hit you. You truly were about to swim in a pool of sin only because the man you desperately wanted didn’t want you back. At least not in the way you wanted him to. 

The employee led you into the room, where your own personal sin would uncoil. A grandiose, large space, plucked out of a French chateau, with dark antique furniture, an easel with a painting you were quick to skip to in order to ogle at it. Your kitten heels clicked on the old, parquet floors that creaked, scuffed against the carpet that cost more than your yearly salary. It was a room that Namjoon would like—and it was a room that took your breath away. 

And the painting paused your blood flow. 

The Unequal Marriage by Vasili Pukirev.  

A painting of you, essentially, because you can’t have the man you yearn for. 

Your heart shrinks, painful pinpricks digging deeply into the flesh. You lift a finger and trace the despondent face of the bride, acknowledge yourself with that secret, yet vivid piece of your agony eternalized within the thickness of the brushstrokes. Her silver flower crown, the gossamer fabric of her veil, and finally her delicate hand. And in your soul, you hold it. 

You peek at the elderly groom and disgust seizes you. Because of the poor girl’s fate, because of your own. It feels as though you’re about to sin with that very man and you regret ever coming here. 

An emotion that you hurriedly shake off because your best friend paid a huge amount of money for you to experience a good time. Like she did. 

Your hand slaps back to your side. Your emotions, too. You will them to hide their starlight just for this one night. Hide their love for the man they can’t have. 

You turn around and glimpse upon a table with bottles of both champagne and wine. Think you need one at this moment; think your dream fulfiller would appreciate it if you poured him one, too. But having one sip of that dark liquid, you say fuck it and finish his glass as well. 

Undress. Take a shower. Weep under the stream. 

And the same employee waits for you when you emerge out of the bathroom in your robe. With manicured hands folded over her stomach, her eyes have softened a little bit, and abruptly, you realize how glad you are that a woman is accompanying you on this strange journey. If a man stood in her place, you would’ve already walked out and wasted your best friend’s money. 

“Mr. Kim wishes for you to be naked,” she says, her voice light, but firm. Your skin prickles with goosebumps—you bought a lacy red lingerie for the occasion, to help your imagination do its job to the fullest. A certain wisp of sadness clutches you that you won’t be able to wear it. 

Or… 

“What happens if I disobey?” you ask, gripping the thick lining of your bathrobe at your chest for mental support. The seriousness of the situation inches nearer and nearer and your stomach knots. 

She inhales, straightening up, as if she was about to leave this room. “Mr. Kim is not a regular, so I don’t know anything about this temper, but I would suggest respecting his wishes.” 

And she does, making space for your thoughts to whirl, and your eyes trace the flowers on the red Persian rug underneath your slipper-shod feet. 

He’s not a regular, so that means he’s not anything like the disgusting groom in the painting. He may be an ordinary person just like you, trying your luck in an unusual setting. Perhaps young, perhaps older—but normal. Not a lecher about to feast on your purity. 

Your stomach relaxes as do your muscles and you walk over to the bed to grab your make-up bag. Set yourself into the doll version of you that enjoys a male company with your eyeliner and glitter. Finish the process with a red tendril of lipstick over your mouth—just to leave behind a pleasant trace if the man ever decides to up the fun a little bit. 

Will it be fun? Or will you regret every second? 

An unanswerable question for your doll brain. You shake it off. Sit down at the edge of the bed and wait. 

Wait for him to fuck not just your anger, but your feelings out of your body. 

The woman emerges out of the bright light of the hall as if she was a housekeeper coming in to clean the hotel room. To a naked eye, it is not far from reality. This time, her softness has deepened so much that she bears a smile on her face. One, that you’re unsure of what it means. And one that relaxes your system to its finality. 

She raises a hand towards the double doors, in the direction of the easel with the painting, and nods, her smile unwavering. 

“You may proceed, miss, through this door. You can take off your robe now and get on the bed through the back of the cubicle. Mr. Kim will join you in five minutes.” 

Your breath shivers as you exhale. You thank her and she clicks the door shut behind her. Scurrying onto your feet, you gather as much bravery as you can. Your bathrobe plops down onto the bed. You give one last look to the unhappy bride in the painting before you open the door. 

You sense her encouraging you to go on—to live a life full of emancipation that she never got to grasp with her fist. And that, you find, is your bravery. 

The dimmed room, in size, mirrors the one you just walked out of. And it stares at you head-on. 

The cubicle the employee spoke of faces you to the right. A black-painted wooden little structure  with a hole in the middle, covered in leather that is cut into long fringes. The lower half of your body will stick out of it and you reckon it depends on Mr. Kim himself what he does with your legs—whether he pins them up using the restrains on the wood or if he holds them. 

The unknown lengthens and for the first time during this night, a small ribbon of excitement begins to swathe your chest. 

Next to the cubicle, in the far corner of the room, is a dresser. You believe the drawers are filled with toys, but the top is lined with dark bottles of alcohol that you recognize. European—Jack Daniel’s, Jim Beam. Suits the play house’s style, you guess. 

And on the left, a monumental bed that takes up the rest of the room. And it’s hung up from the ceiling.

You don’t have time to ogle it as time ticks, but while you run to the back of the cubicle like you were advised, you do notice that there are no paintings embellishing the walls. No person from the old age of time to witness the unfolding of your so-called dream. Sinful, sinful dream. 

Maybe that was done on purpose. Maybe you’re supposed to live this dream with the anonymous Mr. Kim in some way. 

The mattress inside the cubicle is made out of leather, but it is the strong scent of fresh wood that hits your nostrils. It is decorated with twinkle lights all around, giving it a comforting feel. One pair of restraints is installed into the walls as well, but you think it’s more for leverage than for the wishes of the dream fulfiller. Milky and silken, they stand out from the dark tones of it all, and you gaze at them for some kind of comfort as you strengthen your legs through the hole, the cold tassels drifting along your bare body sending sparks of strange delight up your stomach. You bite your lip at the sensation, scooching up to an awkward, almost sitting position so your legs don’t dangle out, but the backs of your knees press against the edge of the mat. 

You cross your ankles. 

And you wait, all over again. 

Wonder if you should touch yourself or if you should give the honors to Mr. Kim to make you ready for him, but the tassels, the sight of your hip bone tattoo that says angel… your nipples perk up on their own and maybe you’ve come to like the act of waiting for him. Or maybe you like the view of your nakedness at a peculiar place such as this. Of your angelic form bare and about to be taken back to heaven. 

Your stomach swarms with anxious morsels at that thought and you take a deep breath. At your exhale, you hear the door creak open and close with a certain tenderness that you immediately know it was used in order not to startle you. 

One point up for Mr. Kim. 

Maybe the Kim clan has good manners and thoughtfulness engraved in their DNA, but they’re men and disappointment always awaits you eventually—

His footsteps lead towards you, carrying that same tenderness. The sound of the muted thuds grow more and more distinct, no ounce of hurriedness lodged in them. A small fire begins to burn in you due to his evident patience, awakening your body, and you’re so, so surprised to detect such gentle arousal just from the energy he’s brought in. 

That, alone, causes you to curl in your coyness, but when you hear him huff out a gentle laughter, you instinctively squeeze your thighs first before you bury your face in your hands, your cheeks hot to the touch. 

Why is he laughing—

He places a large, warm palm on your knee. You flinch and his touch becomes heavier as if he was telling you not to be scared, its warmth begins to descend down your shin—and then lips. His breath wafts over your skin and he presses his lips against it as a way of greeting. 

It is the rule of this sexual practice—no speaking between the partners. And now that it’s unfolding in action, you find yourself absolutely enthralled by it.

You flutter all over, the apex of your inner thighs slick with the liquid expression of your arousal. Your heart pounds, touched by that unusual but kind gesture, and you’re curious for more. 

He rubs the place he kissed with his thumb and then… coldness. He must have withdrawn, straightened his posture, and a great oddity begins to take form in you. 

Your knees tremble, sensitive from his benevolence. 

And you wonder if he’s watching his creation, taking his time as he is for the next move. You long for it, timid, unsure of what to do with your hands. You flex them and unflex them on the leather, your lower limbs gaining momentum, and you feel your wetness trickling down onto the mat. You do well to stifle the mewls gathering in your throat and you yearn for those considerate hands of his to touch you everywhere—

He yanks you forward and, remarkably, the yelp that is flung out of you is hushed, not heard by his ears. At least you hope so—you don’t want to get in trouble, turn that kindness of his around. You’d regret that, and you’d regret that very much. 

Mr. Kim spreads your legs apart, but your femininity is concealed by those suspended tassels that tease your core, your clit, and your hip bones, the most sensitive and vulnerable parts of you. A great dose of pleasure surges through you from it and from the way those fingers of his glide upon the inner of your thigh. He reaches as far as where your shiny stain is. A low, deep breath is exuded from his chest when he feels it and he smears it along your pelvic bone and a little bit on one of your folds. 

He heightens your tremor by doing that. 

You feel bad for reacting like that, but you can’t help it—neither can you stop it. You try to keep your body still and through the opening you can see him propping his hand on your thigh, watching you do so, as if he won’t continue until he knows you’ve regained your composure. And something about that, in its own way, helps you, and it helps you tremendously. 

With his palm flat, he caresses your flesh in a circular motion to praise you for it, lifting his hand upwards and beyond your sight. Your stomach undulates and it is now that you notice the navy blue of his dress pants, the growing tent that takes shape in the middle, and owing to the calmness and the sense of safety he’s installed within you, you do the boldest thing you’ve ever done, save for leaning in to kiss Namjoon nearly two weeks ago. 

Turned on from the sight of his arousal, you grab a hold of the tassel and you begin to provoke him, deciding that you want his manhood to grow. Because of the way he treats you, you deem he deserves it. 

You move, smooth, the leather strip along your cunt, collecting your slick. You shift your hips in circles, the fabric cool and sensual in a way you never thought it would be. Your breaths come out whiny the longer you do it and when you change the direction and move up and down, you can hear his breaths, too. And maybe the blackness of the walls are messing with your mind, but you could’ve sworn, his secret noises have become whiny just the same once you pressed the tassel against your swollen clit. 

And it isn’t until you naturally feel the back of his leg with the ball of your foot that he lets you see how much your little show advanced his arousal. The print of is cock is prominent, thick in the tightness of his pants, and you want it. 

You no longer want Namjoon’s. You want his. 

The plan worked. 

And with a smile of a winner gracing your features, to celebrate you start to make yourself feel delightful. You rub your clit, still with the strip, biting your lips in order to suppress your moans, the pleasure more vivacious this time around. He’s not palming himself, he’s not doing anything at all but watching you, his hands by his sides, and perhaps to reward him—you let go of the tassel. 

You let him see your pussy. 

Shiny, swollen and needy, asking for a man you haven’t seen and won’t even see. 

How sinful, how titillating. You can’t wait to have a cigarette after this. 

His cock twitches and it beguiles you, the way your hand, without your conscious knowing, extends out and reaches for it through the hole. Your femininity, your sexuality—brazen and alive, unafraid and illimitably splendid. 

And in this situation, it is a thing of absolute sublimity, the act of him inching forward and letting you touch him, feel your own creation the way he felt his. You want his number, you want to make him come. You want him to take you out and you want to show it off on your Instagram story, hiding everyone else from seeing it except for Namjoon. A devilish laughter pricks at your throat, desperate to be heard. You sense how heavy his cock must be, how strong, how hard. It’s impossible for you to suck it as he’s not allowed to see your face, but you know the idea of it will haunt your daydreams—

He grasps a hold of your wrist, silencing your thoughts, and you hold your breath. He slides his grip down to your hand and he makes you squeeze him, his length, his balls. Your hole clenches, even your features scrunch up in need, and with your other hand you begin to help yourself, but he stops you. 

Pins your hands down on the leather. Maneuvers to firmly grapple both of your wrists on top of your tummy and uses his free hand to push you forward a little bit. Your legs dangle out, uncomfortably, and he’s so attuned to you that he notices. Leads your leg to wrap around him, the other one two, and if it weren’t for the mattress jutting out, you and him would be flush to each other. 

Body to body. 

He sucks in a breath at the first contact of his thumb and your clit. He must feel how swollen it is and he dips down to your hole, circling it there, gathering your arousal before he returns to that needy flesh, continuing his circles there. Slow, slow circles that make you writhe on the mat, the leather creaking. You lament that he can’t attach his mouth to it, regret that you chose this option because of your foolish feelings, and despite the fact you thought your plan worked and Mr. Kim alleviated your anger, the emotion bursts within you. 

Your muscles tense, your lips flatten in a tight line, your fists in his hold clench, and you’re angry. Angry, angry, angry. Hateful of your life, hateful of your body, of your heart. And in the middle of the explosion, you make a mistake. 

You growl. 

He stops his circles. 

Time beats two times before you’re yanked out of the hole, your feet landing on the parquet floors with that familiar gentleness the man bears. 

And the man… 

The man is no other but Kim Namjoon himself. The source, the epitome of your anger. 

And you feel nothing. Your shock evens out through every fraction of your nerve endings, paralyzing you. Time ceases its beats here—while you stare up at him and he stares down at you. Namjoon isn’t seized by the shock like you are, though. He begins to laugh, darkly, hushedly, humorlessly. Slides his hands into the pockets of his pants and takes a step back. 

Embeds life into time. 

“I fucking knew it was you,” he rasps, that laughter melting into nothingness until the gravity of this situation spreads across this sinful room. Heavy, heavy energy. You should feel ashamed at this very moment, you should cover yourself up, but you don’t. You don’t do anything. “I read your safe word. I thought it was a coincidence, life making fun of me. And then, I saw your butterfly tattoo, but tattoos can lie to me and it was too good to be true. But that growl… that growl of yours can’t lie to me. I know it like I know myself.”

Your growl was your response to his never-dying teasing. If he tickled you, nudged you, bugged you, the only way you would make it stop was by letting out that vexed noise of yours—and it would work. He’d laugh to himself and withdraw his hands. 

You part your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your shock rises in you like a tidal wave that submerges in you and you drown. 

Then, a perplexing song of a mockingbird breezing through the wind outside sounds out within the room, saying things your body is unable to. 

Namjoon blinks, taken aback by your lack of retort. No words, no growls. Merely the song crooning along the spaciousness of the atmosphere. He licks his lips. 

“Why did you stop replying to my messages?” he asks, and you find it obscene that he’s inquiring about this when you’re all bare, trembling, and with your arousal dripping down your inner thighs. If anything, he should be asking you what you’re doing here, but it’s like the fact isn’t news to him. 

And what you don’t know is that he pours life into you with his bizarreness. 

Your first reaction is to scoff. Your second is to bash your fists against his chest, pushing him a step back. And Namjoon… he smirks. As if he succeeded in his plan—pulling you out of your state of shock into a blooming garden of your emotions, where you can run, where you can scream and where you can inflict violence. 

Where you can speak. 

“Why did I stop replying to your messages?” you throw it back at him, your voice rising in volume, and Namjoon straightens, delightfully watches you be full of life. “You think you can share your life with me, take me on dates, pay for me and leave it at that? Turn your head when I try to kiss you? Do you think I’m some kind of lady companion—”

“No,” he interrupts, tilting his chin up, his dominance on full display with the deepness of his voice, the width of his shoulders and his powerful stance. You drip for him, but you’re as powerful as he is. You’re equal—equally tangled up in the same sin. “You’re my Lady Beetle, aren’t you?” 

Your breath hitches, your nipples hardening, and your wetness is so, so uncomfortable, trickling down your flesh. And he provokes the pressure of your arousal in your core by that nickname, even more so when he lifts a finger and traces the freckles upon your right shoulder, the meaning behind that term of endearment, from his distance. Even more so when he sinks his fingers into the hair on the nape of your neck, uttering his following words. 

“Get back inside the cubicle.” 

But you’re not obeying. You don’t know his temper either, but you are getting yourself into trouble. And you’re not getting fucked until you know that he reciprocates your feelings. 

And you know what to do. 

“Kiss me,” you murmur, crossing the distance, inching towards his face. Namjoon tilts his head down, his lips nearly brushing against yours, and that’s all he does, nudging your anger. “Kiss me, Namjoon, or I’m walking out of this room.” 

He lets the tension simmer, unblinking, consuming your eyes from this close proximity. And when he opens his mouth, you think he’s about to kiss you, but you’re mistaken. Deadly, deadly mistaken. 

“Did you come here to forget about me?” he whispers, inching even closer until your nipples graze against the soft material of his sweater, hums in question when you don’t answer. Lifts your chin to make you look at him when your eyes stray away, your anger bubbling in you. He perceives the real you, always has, and you don’t have to say a word. Only a person intertwined with your soul could be able to do this; why won’t he act on it? 

“Did you come here to look for me?” you whisper back, pressing your torso against him until your breasts squish against his hard chest. His still hard manhood pokes you in your tummy, harder than it was when you touched him earlier, and wrap your arms around him, your hands traveling all across the width of his back until they wander down his loins, even lower to his buttocks. 

He pants, but his voice is not affected by the whirlwind of his emotions. Delicious, delicious whirlwind.

“Yes,” he says, firmly, flattening his lips and growling when you squeeze his butt. You enjoy those selfish touches so much that your grin illuminates the room, a ball of light amidst all this darkness. Your anger watches on, stunned. “What do you think? If I wanted to move on, I wouldn’t have chosen a fucking glory hole out of all the options. I’m not like you. I don’t give up. I’m patient.” 

“Patient…” You taste those words on your tongue, dwelling on them. They’re bittersweet, and you stand in the middle of your decision whether you like them or not. “What are you waiting for?” 

He sighs, lifting his hands and digging his fingertips into your ribs, holding you to him. You mirror his movements, and you let out that strained breath of yours when he bends his head and places a singular, wet kiss onto the side of your neck. 

You had asked him to kiss you, even though you didn’t specify where, but you didn’t expect your body to tingle this much and grow boneless in his unfailing hold. You cling to him with all your might—there’s nothing left for you to do. 

You’re his. Have been his since the moment you saw his watch. 

And you can’t believe you haven’t noticed that Cartier adornment when you were ogling his manhood. 

He brushes away a wispy strand of your hand before returning it back to its rightful place. “You deserve the world and I���m not there yet to give it to you. And you’re not gonna look for it elsewhere, I’m not letting that happen. I’m gonna give it to you.” 

Honesty is here at last, the explanation to his distance. You hide the fluttering joy that opens in your chest, but you do let him see the smile that begins to curve your lips. He likes you; you can live at peace now. No more anger, no more daydreams. 

“Kim Namjoon,” you breathe out, moving your hands to his sides. “Is that a promise I hear?” 

He nods, tilting his head to the side as his pupils grow large. “Yes, that’s a promise. The last relationship I was in fucked me up, but I’m gonna get right, and I want you to hold onto that promise.” 

You hum. “What does that mean for us right now?” 

He smirks, that cheek cleft enchanting you all over again. “If you want kisses, then kisses is what you’re gonna get.” 

Your smile lengthens until your cheeks hurt, heated. “I want kisses. Lots of kisses. On different places of my body, too.” 

Namjoon retreats back to your neck, peppering kisses along that column. You whimper, hands hurrying to undo the button of his pants, desperate and arbitrary. But with a disapproving noise, Namjoon stops your hasty movements. Pins your hands behind your back.

“Patience,” he whispers, gliding his lips across the kisses he left behind. Your skin prickles with goosebumps against him, your nipples so stiffened that they ache, and, most unfortunately, you moan softly in impatience. “You’re gonna learn what true patience is, little beetle.” 

Color heats your cheeks and as you grin, you bite your bottom lip. “Be my teacher, Namjoon.” 

He chokes out a groan, dizzied by the idea, one that fades into your yelp when he unexpectedly turns you around and pushes your back against his chest, your arms long and criss-crossed behind you, hands flat against his cock. 

Something tells you this lesson will be one of great difficulty for you. And of great pleasure. 

Namjoon cups your jaw, swivels your head to face him a little. “Where do you want those kisses?” 

Your quivering breath fans out across his big hand. “On my nipples.” 

At your quick answer, he makes a sound of approval and with a feathery-light touch he sails his knuckles down the right side of your chest, from your collarbone down to the beginning of your supple breast, where he stops his voyage to study your reaction. As much as you’d die for his fingers to go a little lower, you keep your tremors in tact. Even your fingers remain obedient, relaxed in their position and not tempting his temper. You close your eyes, try your bestest to hold it while you wait it out, and your slick by now creates a pool between your feet. Namjoon’s cock twitches at your goodness and he sighs a little praise into your ear, just for you to hear. It roots deeply in your gut, where it stirs the butterflies that are painted in the color of his eyes. 

His knuckles descend lower and lower, stop at the apex of your nipple, and the nearness is enough for you to stoop in your desperation. 

Something you shouldn’t have done.

Namjoon slaps that pointy flesh, coaxing such a filthy moan out of you that it reverberates through the room. The harshness, intertwined with the swift stimulation of your nipples spreads a buzzing sensation down your body, settling in your aching clit, and the loud noise you let out echoes in small whimpers, wordless pleas for more. He becomes harder in your hands, as if he could translate them, and the temptation croons at you again, telling you to squeeze him. This time, you can’t really hold back. This time, you want him to do it again.

On the other breast. 

You squeeze him, the weight of his cock an inexplicable experience that drives you to a point of carnal madness. You slide your palms along that thick length and the way he’s quiet, unspeaking, unbreathing, puzzles you and alarms you simultaneously. 

You look behind you. Catch his features screwed up in such pleasure that you whimper again, announcing that you’ve seen him in his weakest. And Namjoon is brought back into his teacher mode. He allowed himself that fraction of time for his own pleasure, perhaps for yours, too, and you’ve never discovered something so imposing. 

Your sexuality and his, interwoven, a thing of glory more magnificent than this playhouse itself. 

“Little beetle, you’re just so naughty, aren’t you?” he rasps into your ear, pressing you against him with both of his arms wrapped around your chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. He kneads your breasts hard before he slaps them, both at the same time, and you make such a mess. “So impatient, so desperate to touch and be touched. What am I gonna do with you? Can you even learn, hm?” 

Knead. Slap. Namjoon tweaks your nipples, circles them with his fingers, filling your body with such pleasure that your knees nearly give out on you. And he holds you to him by your neck, a firm grip that conveys to you that from now on, he won’t be very nice. 

And you don’t really mind. 

“Get back inside the cubicle so I can deal with you accordingly,” he mutters his order, tracing the shell of your ear with his puffy lips before he latches onto your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth briefly, making you cry out. “Do you know what happens to girls who can’t be helped?” 

Your voice is strained, impossible to use. “No.” 

“They get spanked and fucked so hard that they forget who they are,” he reveals, sailing his hands back down your body, flicking your nipples on the way, before his palms anchor at the V-shape of your private parts. He plays with your folds, stimulating your clit in that way without touching it. You grind your hips into his movements, seeking more, but he slaps your pussy for it, halting you. “That’s the only way they get salvaged.” 

And then he lets go of you. And the look he gives you is so lecherous, so dirty that your legs are jelly as you scurry to the end of the glory hole cubicle, thinking that this entire moment is speckled with glory that will haunt you for the rest of your days. 

You get back into position, your legs dangling out, and Namjoon repeats his voyage. Sails, sails down your tummy before anchoring at the mound of your cunt, but this time he doesn’t gratify you with any delight. He continues down your wet thighs and, abruptly, he turns you over, pushing you forward so your bum shows fully, your tippy toes touching the floor.

The tassels are warm and saturated with the dew of your arousal, tickling the small of your back. 

“Now listen to me,” he says, his fingers wandering all around your flesh, but not where you want him the most. “I’m not Namjoon at this moment. I’m not your teacher. In your mind, you’re gonna go back to who you thought I was before I showed myself to you. Mr. Kim. And you’re gonna address me as so, do you understand?” 

Your brows furrow and you curve your body to the side in question, not understanding this sudden change of the play. You may have wanted this fictional Mr. Kim more than you wanted Namjoon but that was before you found out that he felt the same way as you. 

“Why?” 

He massages the round, graceful cheeks of your bum, propelling you to rest your torso flat on the mat, comfortably. “Because you deserve it. Because your Namjoon isn’t where he’s supposed to be yet. So I’m not fucking you as Namjoon, I’m fucking you as Mr. Kim. This is the only time you’re getting fucked before I get right, so I suggest you enjoy every second.”

You gasp at his words, but your hole reacts first before you do, opening and closing all for his eyes to see—and they do. And he likes the view so much that he takes his thumb and perseverates the brief motion, your center coating his digit in sopping wetness. Your hips follow him and this time, he lets you. He gives you a moment to comprehend your future full of pure possibilities and kisses and you detect in your soul no disapproval. Because you’re rewarded with his heart in the end, it’s worth it. 

His heart is one of gold, one that won’t perish. 

You’ve seen it in the way he treated your mother, in the way he would stop his teasing when you had enough. In the respect he has towards you because he isn’t ready for a relationship. In the promise he gave you, even though that gold is scratched. 

You love him, and because of that you shall play his game. 

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” 

He kisses the fleshiest part of your bum, wetly, humming into your skin—another reward. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, nibbling the place he gave love to. “Try staying one.” 

You mewl, grinding into his face, desirous for a release. “Yes, sir.” 

He draws back and chuckles. “Look at you, so good all of a sudden when you’re all spread for me. You’re still getting spanked, little girl.” 

You whine, pretending that you don’t like what awaits you, when in reality you can’t wait. “Can I get another kisses after?” 

His laughter roars through the room. “Where do you want them?” 

“On my pussy, Mr. Kim.” 

He growls, swearing, his hands nowhere to be found on your body. “You’ll get lots of kisses on your pussy if you take these spanks well. Can you count them down for me?” 

You nod, but you quickly realize that he can’t see you. Your dusky world pirouettes and you’ve tumbled into a state of haziness, needing his firm hand, his dependable stability. “Yeah, I can.” 

Namjoon coos, his palm back on your bum, fondling it. “Good. Do you remember your safe word? You’re still getting those kisses if you use it, darling.” 

You dissolve into the leather, your body limp, but you do remember the magic word of utmost adoration. “Beetle.” 

A kiss on your flesh. “That’s it. Perfect. Does someone you know call you by that nickname?” he asks and you giggle, the comfort and the safety of the moment almost lulling you to sleep. “From ten, little beetle.” 

And he rouses you from your sleepiness by landing a sharp spank on the cheek that he made so tender. The pain is so acute, so good that you almost forget to utter out the number, swimming in the sensation as you are, but Mr. Kim isn’t upset by it. No, he helps you. 

“What number was that?” 

“Ten.” 

“Ten, that’s right. You’re doing so good.” 

Mr. Kim’s kindness enters you all over again, liquifies between your legs, and you moan out. The following sting of his palm is greater than the previous one and your chest arches off the leather, but you like it. Even though he doesn’t alleviate the spank, lets only the air make it better, you still like it—so much that you don’t make a mistake and count it down. 

“Nine.” 

And he repeats it after you, spanking you again and again until the skin of your left cheek is inflamed, burning red, and the perception of the pricks is too much for you to handle. But taking after him, you don’t give up. Grit your jaw, flex your fists, scream out the numbers until you reach one and that side of your bum feels numb. 

And Mr. Kim praises you for it so lasciviously that you can only whine in response, your little noises muffled by the leather. 

“Good girl. You took your punishment so well. Your ass is so prettily red, oh my God. You’re gonna get those kisses now. So, so many of them until you come all over my tongue. Spread your legs even more for me.”

You do as he says, mind blank, and you hear the thud of his knees hitting the floor. That alone makes you drool, the sound of his submission, let alone his satisfied groan when he attaches his mouth to your pussy lips.

And you can’t voice out the surplus of your emotions, the unrestrained joy that you feel because you’re being eaten out by a man that you love, but because of their boisterous nature, they come out nonetheless. Out of your tear ducts, out of the corner of your mouth in the form of drool and little muted noises that are impossible for anyone to hear but you. And you fail him. You can’t imagine a fictional person sucking on your clit like that, that feels as though your soul is being yanked out of you like you were so many times upon this night. No, only Namjoon can do this to you—and so, privately, you bask in it. In Namjoon’s tongue swirling circles on your clit; in Namjoon’s lips sucking them so hard that you lose track of time, surroundings and your own being. In Namjoon’s hands shaking your bum in his face; in his fingers rubbing rapid side-to-side motions on your wet clit from the front when he fucks you with his tongue from the back. 

You’re transported to a place that is neither heaven nor paradise. A place he, himself, must have brought into existence by the energy of his utter devotion for you. And you make it real when you come—sprinkle him with the fountain of your essence that contains the molecules of the universe he created for you. And you float, you float, you float. And he seizes the gravity by praising you for squirting for him, for coming so well and making the best of your so-deserved kisses. 

And then his pants flop to the floor, his sweater—until the only things he’s wearing are his watch, his bracelet and his affection for you. You turn your body halfway so you can see him, the wholeness of his manliness that is aching for you, dripping for you like you’re dripping for him, and his cock is so hard that it points up to his abdomen. You’ve never seen anything like this before and you grow so savagely hungry for it that you begin to suck on your index finger.

Purposefully loudly, smacking your mouth. 

Namjoon chuckles, darkly, and the warmth of that expression of his pulsates in you. “Oh, you’ll be sucking on this cock, too, don’t you worry, my beetle. I just need to feel your pussy around me.” 

Oh, the slip-up. He feels this on the same wavelength as you—no Mr. Kim, no anonymity. Only Namjoon and you. If you were unsure of his feelings before, you can’t be unsure now. The universe he created palpitates around you and you’re so drunk on all of this new knowledge that when he buries himself inside your heat, you can’t let him in. Your walls are compressing so tightly with your still-yet growing arousal that you clamp down on him, but at the sound of his torturous moans, you suck him in. 

And he doesn’t go easy on you. 

With his hard, hard, and long shaft he begins to fuck you, violently. He rams into you without any mercy, lifting your leg onto the mat and entering you more deeply, curling his hips to kiss and kiss your cervix again and again. His strokes are reverberated throughout your whole body—your nipples rub against the leather, your head rocks against it in a way that turns you feral, you gag on your finger, your clit is teased with those relentless pounds. You’re helpless, but also boundless, being fucked like that, and you realize, with your dumb, blank and empty brain, that you’re extensively getting your best friend’s money’s worth. 

And Namjoon elevates your experience. 

He reaches through the hole and roughly captures your hair in his fist, popping your finger out of your mouth. Decides it’s not enough, decides you’ve had enough of the hole time and he pulls you out, all while still being inside of you. Straightens you against him, grasps your jaw while his other hand slips down to your clit. 

And the side-to-side motions are brutal. Mean. So dominant in the way he keeps the contact light, barely stimulating you, but stimulating you, regardless. 

“You think you can gag on your little finger and that it does nothing to me?” he scolds, pinching your clit, and your growl is scratchy, raspy, so fucked out. He’s reprimanding you, but his words don’t reflect his actions. Namjoon kisses you everywhere he can reach. Ear, cheek, jaw, neck. So frantically, so impatiently. “Have you learned nothing?” 

You pant, your orgasm so awfully close from being bound but unbound at the same time, fucked slowly and torturously as Namjoon begins to move, grinding against you. But he has to stop—because if he doesn’t, you’re gonna come all over his cock, right in the center of this room. He’s teasing your build-up, just like you imagined he would, letting it rise and letting it fall in short intervals. 

But he has pity on you, stemming from his affection. A cold, cold pity that you need for the heat rippling through you. 

“Get on the bed. On your knees.” 

He pulls himself out of you and urges you forward—towards the hanging bed. And you don’t care to ponder if it will move under your weight. All you can think about is his dick as you crawl onto that bed that does not wobble at all, but remains perfectly offset. You sit back on your folded legs and wait for him—watch him take those leisurely, effortless steps like he did at the start of this evening. Only this time, you get to see it with your eyes. His tall height, his swaying shoulders, flat abdomen and that hard cock, glistening with your slick. Carmine, aching. 

You lick your lips. Prop yourself on your knuckles in front of you, back arched. Realize he kissed you everywhere, but on your mouth. And so you pout—and you make puppy eyes at him. 

He smooths down a flyaway on your sweaty hairline, endeared. “What’s wrong?” 

“You haven’t kissed me on the lips.” 

Namjoon smiles down at you, dejectedly. Curls your hair behind your ear, grabs you by the back of your neck, calls to attention all the butterflies in your tummy. “I’m sorry.” 

And he captures your mouth. As Namjoon, as a golden-hearted man that longs to give you the world, and you can vividly feel it. Mr. Kim doesn’t exist anymore and Namjoon seals that fact in when he prods his tongue inside, toying with yours before retreating back, moaning into the kiss. 

A kiss that was more than a kiss. 

And you have to kiss him again when he takes a moment to breathe. You have to devour him, clasp your hand around his wet cock as you do so—and Namjoon has to push your head down, fucking your mouth until your tears freely escape from all directions. He grips your hair tight, holds you to him from the side, plunging in and out of your throat however he pleases, your gagging noises encouraging him to possess every inch of you. Your mascara zigzags down your face in clumps—and once Namjoon’s pity flickers in him all over again, he lifts you and kisses you so nastily that you fade into nothingness. 

Then, you’re on your back and he pounds that nothingness. Uses your thighs as leverage as you’re just laying there, a hole and nothing else. Perhaps the cubicle changed your life to such an extent that you’ve become it. You shall never forget it—even now it is scattered all across your vision as you’re fucked into oblivion, the skin-slapping sounds and your pussy squelching around him accompanying your memory of the dark wood, the fairy lights, the restraints you never used.

The sex was too personal, too intimate for you to do so. Even before you discovered that Mr. Kim was Namjoon. Your body recognized his, your mind too blind, too preoccupied with your anger that is now healed. 

As if Namjoon could read your thoughts, he pumps into you with a hard thrust, eternalizing it. 

“Focus on me,” he growls and you squeak, hiccuping into every movement. It feels as though he’s blocking your throat with how deeply he’s ravaging you and you can only nod. 

You can only moan his name. 

“Namjoon. Yes, yes, yes—oh, Namjoon.” 

He laughs, that articulation of his joy abating in your mouth as he bends to kiss you, fully buried in you. And then he pulls out, presses his heavy cock on your cunt, lifts your head by grabbing your hair, consuming your mouth as if you were everything he ever lacked in his life. 

“Grind your pussy on it, it’s yours, my little beetle.” 

You whine, pucker your mouth against his, spinning your hips in circles, his cock so wet and so sticky from your happy juices. 

“Joonie, Joonie bug.” 

He closes his eyes, moaning all in your face, the principle of you softening and connecting his persona to yours absolutely ruining him. He tightens his grip on your hair, sinks himself inside you with his other hand and then sticks those soaked fingers inside your mouth. All four of them, gagging you. 

“Little beetle and big Joonie bug, hm. How do we taste?” His tone is so low that it penetrates your skin, paralyzing your senses until only one remains. Until all you know is the bitter-sweetness of his precum and the tanginess of your slick. And he doesn’t draw his fingers back, he continues to control your gags until he paints your face in another set of pretty black tears. “Tell me. How do we taste?” 

You growl around him, the sound he knows, and he pounds you for it, a thrust that hurts but feels good at the same time. You suck on his fingers, a trail of your drool trickling down from your connection, and Namjoon grunts. Slides his fingers out of your mouth and places them right on your clit. 

Rapid, rapid rubs. And equally rapid strokes. 

“Come,” he orders, and it’s like he flicked his fingers and made your body come. You didn’t have to do a thing. “Good. Finally. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Coming around my cock after all this time. Joonie bug is right there with you. Just a little bit more.” 

He’s given life to your orgasm by his words. A storm erupts, clearing out everything negative that was ever seeped throughout your soul. Your body quakes, submitted to him through and through, at his disposal to make himself come—until your orgasm is so milky that you can’t see. Your vision is dotted with white, with tiny glazing stars that must be hung up in the sky just like this bed. And Namjoon brings you to him, lips to lips, needing you as he fucks you through your mutual release, and those stars splotch him with their dust. 

You squirt all over him, for the second time around. And you don’t stop, the twitching of his cock, the warmth of his cum as he keeps stuffing you full of it, the unfaltering hardness of his thick shaft roll in your tiny orgasms, those little fountains of boundless pleasure that drench him, give him the likeness of those stars. He’s turned on your squirting ability and there’s no way back. No, no way back. 

Namjoon is exhausted as he pulls out—and you already feel so empty, so lonely. His cum streams out of you, staining the bed, and it saddens you so much that you reach into your heat to collect it, plunging your fingers into your mouth, eating him. And you moan, at his male taste, for the last time. 

“Fuck, don’t do that. I can’t go again.” He wipes down his face, a gleaming man that has your entire identity woven into his veins that run all across his arms, and you love him. You love him so drastically that you can’t get on your feet on your own, can’t make a decision of your own, can’t live without him. 

He fucked you so well that he attached you to himself. 

A wave of strange emotions engulf you. 

“Namjoon,” you whimper, tears burning each corner of your eyes, and you don’t know what to do, you don’t know what is happening. He lifts his head, round eyes blinking, and he’s so quick to cradle you into his arms, letting you cling to him, letting you wrap your legs around his torso like a baby. And that’s precisely how you feel—like a baby. 

“Talk to me,” he encourages, caressing your back in circles, and you moor your face in his neck, inhaling his individual bodily scent. So masculine, so heady, so intoxicating. You sob, running your fingers through his misty, blond-streaked hair, needing to be even closer to him than is physically possible. 

Namjoon shushes you, kissing your shoulder, giving you the strength to speak, giving you the identification of what you’re feeling. 

“This was so intense,” you croak out and Namjoon hums, halting his touch to focus on you wholly. “Emotionally. I feel much closer to you. Too close.” 

And he’s not running out of things to give you. He gives you kisses on your neck that bear no sexual context—romantic, reassuring kisses that ease up your muscles, that part the raging thunder of your emotions. And he gives you such comfort that you feel as though you’re floating upon an open body of water, as free as a human being can be. 

“What we did was intense but it was right. What you’re feeling is normal. I’m feeling it, too. We’ve been hiding our feelings for so long and we let them out just now, so it’s overwhelming. It’s okay. You’re good. Such a good girl, my good little lady beetle, tiniest girl beetle in the whole universe. I will protect you from the other bugs. Let’s get this make-up off, hm?” 

You nod, sob and laugh softly at that solace. Namjoon carries you into the shower. Lets the cold water streak down on you while you shield yourself from it, nearly slipping off his grasp. Namjoon chuckles, hoisting you higher, taking a step back to wash you completely clean. You scream and his chuckle deepens, getting you away from the iciness by pressing you against the tiles. 

He truly won’t stop teasing you. 

The water turns warm by the time he fetches the make-up remover. Pouring some on a large cotton pad, he cleanses the remnant of your sex tears, the physical memory of how good he fucked you and how he bound your soul to his. He’s careful around your eyes, focusing so intently that his lip is caged between his teeth. Once he’s finished, he kisses you—with Mr. Kim’s gentleness. 

Washes you clean, especially thoroughly between your legs. Embraces you in the shower and lets you feel—creates a safe space for your feelings. 

And then he’s dressing you in the clothes you came here in. A dark green dress that ends at your ankles. He makes sure to kiss your butterfly tattoo as he smooths down the skirt and you think you’re ready to marry him. 

You want to meet his mother. Not now, not after what you’ve done together. But someday soon. And you want your mother to meet his. 

“I need a cigarette,” you comment as he’s scrunching your hair with a towel. He himself has changed into a pair of clean black dress pants and a plain white shirt, almost oversized. An outfit that made your mouth water. “Like right now. And at least two.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “You can smoke on the balcony. I’ll have one with you. Do you want a drink?” 

Your eyes light up. Your whole body, too. 

Placing a bathrobe around your shoulder, he gently slaps your butt and guides you forward to the balcony. He grabs that bottle of red wine you had opened and joins you.

Two chairs, one small round table in the middle. The view of the entire Seoul city and a fucking statue in the corner of the balcony. 

A beautiful girl, half dressed. The fabric of her forever garment falls off her chest and you’ve never seen a more spectacular sculpture in your life. You enkindle your cigarette and touch her cool face, feel yourself immersed in her seductive beauty. One day you shall be just like her—once Namjoon comes to collect you. Not a doll, but a girl. 

“Take a picture of me,” you say, getting into position, only to realize that Namjoon has been snapping pictures of you while you were acknowledging yourself with the statue. With a cigarette hanging limply in the corner of his mouth. 

You can’t love him any deeper. 

You pose with her. Mirror her body language, even shake off your bathrobe and let your straps fall off your body like her. Private pictures just for him and for you—a reminder for what awaits you. 

A future full of pure possibilities. And sex, lots of and lots of sex. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild , @jjk7k , @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah ,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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Our Little Love part eight - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Mr Kim has a chapter all to himself of 6.8K words, please enjoy and PLEASE let me know what you think. Trigger warnings: manipulation, coercion, corruption, interrogation, mentions of murder and other crimes, swearing, jealousy, possessive yandere behaviour, fingering, orgasm denial, mirror sex, light choking. I am awful with warnings, please forgive me.

Namjoon wasn’t all that impressed with seeing the Chief of police visiting his cell, the syndicate boss was dressed too well to belong there, it was almost an eyesore. A glance to the camera, the normal red blinking light absent tells him all he needs to know. There were no eyes or ears to this conversation. 

“I thought I paid you to keep your men in line,” Namjoon says in lieu of greeting. “Was a bullet to the knee not warning enough for your dear Captain?”

“He wasn’t an issue when I spoke to him, the man was on leave!” the chief replied. “Your girl was the problem he-”

“Be very careful how you finish that sentence,” he advised with a deep angry rumble from his chest. “I am well aware who is at fault here, and regardless of what our little love does, she is never to blame.”

Chief Lee Soo-man only nods once, biting back his complaints.

“I asked you to sort out Kim Suho, I told you to keep him in check,” Namjoon growls. “Keeping your pockets full isn’t an act of charity Lee, it’s a purchase. I own you.”

“Yes sir,” he mumbles in response. “I assure you this arrest is just a formality, the case won’t stand once it’s revealed Detective L/n-”

The glare the man in the blazerless three piece suit gave him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Right, he couldn’t involve you in this, that was going to make things harder than they needed to be.

“What do you recommend then sir?” he asks when he finds his voice and wavering courage. 

Namjoon sighs harshly, and the Chief swears he can almost see smoke. 

“I want to be alone with my little love,” it’s not a request, the chief didn’t let the soft lilt of his fool him. 

“I don’t know how that would be poss-”

“I want-” Namjoon cuts in, unable to bear another second of this blithering idiot, “her to be the one to interrogate me. And I can trust you understand the rest.”

“Y-yessssir,” he stutters, not completely hearing the words between the lines, and that was clear enough on his face. 

“I want her alone, Sooman,” Namjoon repeats himself, if this were one of his men he would never have needed to. “I don’t want a single soul witness to what I’m going to do to her.”

—

Suho tugs you along by the arm, stumbling in his urgent pace, pulling you out of ear shot.

“We have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“I’m technically on health leave, brass says I can’t interrogate him,” he stares a hole into you as if his eyes were telling you the rest but you couldn’t understand.

“Okay so who’s replacing you?”

He huffs out a breath of air from his nose, knowing you weren’t going to like the command from way over his head.

Your heart beats hard in anticipation, why was he looking at you like that?

“As far as Brass are aware you were deep undercover,” Suho informs you slowly, deliberately, looking like he was about to tear your world to trash. He sighs, unable to get the words out.

“Suho what?”

“They want you to interrogate him,” he breathes, you think you’ve misheard him, but you know you haven’t.

Your world spins, you’re already shaking your head.

“I can’t,” you whisper, he knows full well that you can’t. “I resigned, I’m not a detective anymore.”

He sighs again, hesitation in his eyes. 

“I never processed it,” he confesses.

“Y-you di-”

“I couldn’t, I knew you would see reason, I knew you would come back,” he doesn’t let you process the shock, explaining himself quickly. 

“Suho I can’t I can’t,” you beg, the conviction you had to punish them now suddenly taking a back seat as fear overtakes you, “right now they believe I was deep undercover but he’s not going to let that-“

“Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can fully submerge into a panic attack, taking your hand in his. “I’m going to be in the next room, as soon as he says anything that compromises you, I’ll turn off the cameras, okay?”

“But-“

You’re interrupted again when the door opens, both of you whipping your heads to see him being transferred by four officers to the interrogation room. His eyes find you, staring stoic holes into you before his gaze finds Suho’s hands comforting yours. The snarl of displeasure is brief but you definitely see it, and you can’t breathe.

Suho draws your attention back to him, tugging your hand softly.

“Do you trust me Y/n?” he implores you, eyes searching yours in a way that made Namjoon want to strangle him with the chains on his handcuffs. You look up at your Captain with such light in your eyes, a way you should never look at another man, and then you have the audacity to nod. 

—

You’ve done this a hundred times, if not more. So why were you hesitating at the door? Your hand on the handle, all you had to do was turn it and face the music but you couldn’t even manage finding your breath. 

Interrogation was a science, it was like riding a bike, you knew what you had to do, you had to command the room. It almost sounded like a joke, the worst one you’d ever heard. Command a room when Kim Namjoon was in it? 

The thought makes you hyperventilate. No, it wasn’t going to be easy but you could control what you could. You borrowed clothes from an old colleague, a skirt and blouse, simple but professional. Suho’s old blazer too, as if layers would protect you. You had splashed water on your face in the bathroom, using makeup from evidence to make yourself look presentable, composed. Your impromptu freshening up had meant you left the syndicate leader waiting for a long time, and it absolutely 100% was not because you were trying to kill time, it was to make him stew in the room, a technique you had used multiple times prev- who were you trying to convince? 

You needed to get this over with. 

Your face is impassive when you finally open the door, his gaze is on you immediately and you can feel a certain type of guilt and shame try to seep its way into you, but you push it down far enough that you can pretend it’s not there.

“Mr Kim Namjoon,” you greet him stoically.

“Detective L/n,” he returns, playing along with a small smile, as if seeing an old acquaintance after a long time. The way he addressed you shouldn’t cut you, logically it made no sense not when you’re the one that got him in the box, but it did. 

You approach the table he’s chained to, looking at the wood instead of his eyes as if he didn’t matter, or at least that’s how you wanted it perceived. Avoiding eye contact with the most dangerous man the whole country had ever come to know, meant you missed the way his stare moved to your clothes, particularly your blazer, recognising it was a man’s, and he could confidently guess exactly who it belonged to. Any friendliness on his face disappeared, he wanted to play games and now he just wanted to torture you a little, punish you for you actions. Patience, he tells himself, that would come later.

The file in your hands slaps the table as you throw it down, taking a seat opposite your boyfriend, a man you now convinced yourself you wanted behind bars. 

What do they say about a woman scorned? Namjoon thinks to himself, admiring the fire he could see burning underneath your skin, and though he knew he would feel the burn, he would welcome it. It was no secret that he had a fantasy about you interrogating him, he introduced the role play to the bedroom soon after your return to them but it lacked the flames of heat he could feel today. 

“Allow me to formally introduce myself,” you reply. “My name is detective Y/n L/n, I’ve been undercover at your… establishment for the past year and a half.”

“Is that right?” he barely suppressed his amusement but it didn’t phase you. Your professional head was on, this was just another criminal you had to put away, that was it. 

You open the file, sliding out photos of him that you had sent in as intel in your early days undercover as well as surveillance photos that Suho had taken since you were MIA. 

“Do you know who this man is Mr Kim,” you say, sliding the first of the photos to him.

“Can’t say I do detective,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not even glancing away from you. 

“Do you want to try looking at his face first before you answer,” you insisted unimpressed. 

He smiles, still staring at you. 

“I don’t recognise him,” he repeats himself slowly. 

“So this isn’t you in the photo?” You ask.

“I don’t know,” his grin only grows.

“This man, Jackson Wang, is dead, and the last person who saw him alive seems to have been you Mr Kim, at least based on the time stamp on this photo and the time of death from the post mortem.”

“Is that right,” he says again, sounding like a broken record. His eyes swim with admiration for you, you can see it though you can’t understand it at all with the current scene. Why wasn’t he fuming, why wasn’t he demanding an answer or explanation?

“Okay let's cut the crap since I know you’re far too clever for that Mr Kim,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “I have gathered evidence of your crimes from the last 18 months, and I will stand in court as a witness against you.”

“Are you allowed to do that little love?” he asks, the name has a pang of panic hit you, but you tell yourself you can explain it away to brass.

“The charges you're facing so far are murder, battery, and grand larceny to name a few,” you state ignoring him, flicking through the photos, throwing each one in front of him. “There are many more to follow.”

“I didn’t know partners could testify against each other,” he mused, smirk still strong on his face.

“I’m not your partner,” you object. “I was undercover.”

“No,” he contends, shaking his head like this was just a game to him. “You can’t fake a love like ours, heaven.”

You almost snort as if his point was ridiculous.

“I don’t think I could ever love someone like you Mr Kim,” your stare was ice cold, that finally wipes the smile off his face. 

“You’re angry,” he states as if it was new information for you. “I get that little love, but this is a bit too much, don’t you think?”

“I think justice needs to be served, don't you?” you sneered. “People got hurt, some people died, someone needs to pay.”

“You and I both know they deserved it,” he declares as if there wasn’t a camera recording his confession. “You’re just angry because I stepped on a bug.”

Utter rage brewed like a storm in your chest, and you wanted the downpour to drown him. 

“You sound like you’re ready to sign the confession Mr Kim,” you don’t break your stare. “That’s great, saves us a lot of time, thank you.”

You close the file, pushing the chair back to stand. 

“I’m not done with you,” he growled.

“But I’m done with you.” 

“Y/n sit,” he commands calmly, composing himself. “Throwing a fit isn’t going to fix things.”

“Throwing a fit?” The audacity of this man, you stand there in shock. 

“Let’s talk it through,” he says to you as if you were being hysterical. 

“Fuck you,” you spit. 

“Talk to me Y/n,” he scolded you like you were a child. “Without this bullshit.”

“Fine! You wanna talk about it Namjoon,” you snapped, taking the seat again, throwing the file haphazardly on the desk. “Let’s talk about it.”

The glare you present him with doesn’t make him flinch, it doesn’t phase him. You hope Suho had enough sense to turn the cameras off by now, this would go nowhere. 

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, you made me play the fool.”

He didn’t react, not a single muscle on his face moved and it fanned whatever flame explode inside of you like a bomb. This was his true colours underneath the mask of love and adoration he created for you.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore Namjoon I can see right through you,” you state. “And you are never touching me again.”

That made him look at you, really look at you, something shifted in his gaze, a slight smirk as if he was mocking you.

You could cry kick and scream about the injustice he put you through in the name of this fucked up love and he wouldn’t flinch. He would sit there and watch and then the fucker would have the audacity to laugh afterwards. He must’ve laughed at how stupid you were in trusting him when he lied.

“At least if you go to prison, I’ll finally be free,” you whisper like it’s a life line.

He’s still unmoved, sitting there as if you were invisible and it irked the fuck out of you. He was the one who wanted to talk, why the fuck was he silent now? 

You wanted him to hurt you wanted him to feel an ounce of what you did in the light of his betrayal. He tore your heart out and you weren’t going to forgive him.

“I must’ve looked so pathetic,” you say in a self deprecating tone, looking at the ceiling as if someone could answer you. “Suho was right.”

That comment makes his blood boil hard enough to show on his face. There it was, the reaction you were waiting for and you took the bait without thinking about what you were trying to catch or what you were trapped with.

“I should’ve trusted him, he’s always had my back and my best interest at heart.”

His jaw clenches, a fist squeezing nothing but air although he probably wished it was the captain's neck.

“Kai and Suho are all I have left,” you goad him, unsure of what exactly it was that you wanted to prove. “And finally I’m back where I belong.”

“If you don’t want a bullet in each of their heads, you need to stop talking love,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Something inside of you felt vindicated and you realise then what you wanted from him, proof he fucking cared, that you weren’t some pawn or prize in this game of crime. You wanted him to soothe the very cuts he caused, or rip your heart out hard enough that you could bleed him out of your system forever.

“Oh please Namjoon, just admit why you kept me around for so long,” you scoff. “I can only imagine how it felt to have the lead detective on your case in the palm of your hands, like a trophy, a big fuck you to the justice system.”

You laugh sounding a little maniacal.

“You had me, and I fell for all of it.”

“You’re forgetting I didn’t know your true origins at first little love,” his low voice is a warning, he looks at you like he needed to remind you who you belonged to.

“And you’re forgetting I know you,” you bite back. “Any hint of betrayal and you pull the trigger first and ask questions later.”

He stares at you, grimacing.

“And yet here I am, alive.”

“Because I love you,” he says it so casually it throws you off, like it was a fundamental part of his being, like breathing.

“Because you saw an opportunity,” you rationalise.

“Because I could never lose you,” he confesses. “You could rip out my heart, little love and I would still want you, why else would I be here?”

You frown, what did he mean? He was here because you paid an eye for an eye, you betrayed him.

“What’s done is done,” you say as if you were unconcerned. “I will testify against you.”

He leans closer across the table, words for your ears only.

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle seeing Jungkook in prison, love?” Namjoon whispers. “Knowing you put him there? It would kill you.”

The pain his words brought forth only proved them to be true. You did have a soft spot for the youngest, always had. You break eye contact first, looking down at the file and turning back and forth a page as if in contemplation but really to cool your nerves.

Were you really doing this? Sending Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae and Kookie to jail because of an angry outburst? Now your emotions had time to settle after the bomb that exploded when you saw Suho; you weren’t so sure.

“I never thought you could betray us like this,” he says solemnly, continuing to manipulate your guilt, but he forgot about your fire. He could almost see the coals ignite in your eyes, a misstep on his part, one he realised when a snarl forms on your lips.

“You. Lied.” You state ferociously. “I asked you if you hurt him and you lied to me.”

“So you decided to have us all arrested,” he continues, “for a man you stated you didn’t care about like that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe, unable to sit with him any longer, pacing the room before you raised a finger to his face. “You played me like a fool Namjoon, and I refuse to play the part anymore.”

“I wanted him dead, little love,” he states in a low voice through gritted teeth. “Do you understand what a mercy-”

“I asked you not to hurt him!”

“Then you underestimated our wrath!” he retorted. “I couldn’t let him go in one piece, and you didn’t need to know.”

“No. You underestimated MY wrath Kim Namjoon!” You burst, slamming the desk with your hand, the sting burning, your face heating more and more with rage as it concealed your heartache. “I am not some docile doll for you to play with, and manipulate and LIE TO! You took my love for granted when it was a damn fucking privilege.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, he stayed composed while you looked like a wild animal finally let out of her cage.

“You think this obsession is love,” your voice broke at the last word, the floods of heartbreak dampening the fires. “And I did too, but it’s fucked up everything.”

His silence was eating you alive, his face giving nothing of his heart away while yours laid bare out between you.

“You know what I’m done,” you breathe, “have fun rotting in jail Namjoon.”

Tears drop out of the corner of your eyes as you walk away, his piercing gaze doing nothing to deter you. He might’ve had power over you once but that was before he betrayed you. You reach for the door handle, tugging, ready to leave him behind until his trial, but the door doesn’t budge. You still, mind blank for a second before panic overwhelms you. You try again with all your might, pulling as hard as you can over and over before releasing your grip with a harsh breath. You take a gulp, calming yourself, he planned this.

You’re not surprised when you hear the sound of the handcuffs undo or the chains hit the floor. Fucking bastard. An alarm started blaring in the building, loud and overwhelming, but it came too late. Red lights flash, the room glowing as if warning you about the oncoming danger.

“Are we done with your outburst little love,” he says coldly, like your grievances were nothing more than a tantrum.

You turn to face him slowly, more tears dropping without a sound, shaking your head at the way his words cut you down to nothing.

When he stands from the seat your heart gallops with fear and panic. Although it’s helpless you turn back to the door, trying with all your might to open it and escape him. The fire alarm blaring does nothing to ease you, you hang onto the door as you feel him approach, tears falling out of your eyes without control.

Fuck, you were stuck here with the man you sent to jail, you were left to his mercy. His presence looms over you, you can feel him a hair's width behind you, not touching you, not really, but he’s so close it’s overwhelming.

It’s when you feel his breath you freeze, your body shutting down with dread. He presses his cheek to your hair, inhaling you softly. The action makes you jolt away, turning to the side but he grabs your wrist tightly. You don’t look at him, you stare into the two way mirror, your cheeks pathetically wet. You were supposed to hold the power in this room, but you could feel it dwindle away to nothing but smoke.

You’re slammed against the door hard, a whimper escaping your lips as your eyes scrunched in pain. You miss the flash of guilt in his eyes, realising he pushed you too hard. An apology on his lips but the glare when your eyes open stops him. He’s seen anger in your eyes before, hate even, for he knew love didn’t come without it. But fear? Never of him, not even in the days when you were undercover and your life was one unveiled secret away from ending. 

“Get away from me,” you seethe, meaning every word, even when you saw the hurt in his eyes. 

Regret, Kim Namjoon never knew the feeling before, but he knew he never wanted you to look at him the way you were. He needed to keep his calm, one wrong push and you would tear him out of your own heart.

Your eyes fly all over the room, trying to piece together a way to gain some distance. Suho… maybe he was still behind the glass. You tug your wrist as hard as you can, taking steps away from him but his hold is relentless. The blare of the alarm stops ringing but the flashing red lights remain, staining the walls like blood pumping.

“Little lo-“ he starts to say with a sigh, he was being patient but there was only so much time left.

“Suho?” You call desperately trying to look through the glass. You know you’ve made a mistake before you even said his name but fear drives people to do stupid things without thinking.

The most notorious criminal in all of Seoul pulls you back against his chest hard. An arm wraps around your waist, the unforgiving grip on your wrist turning lethal. He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring at you through the mirror. The hairs on your skin stood on end at the frightening change in his eyes, danger rolled off of him and you had no choice but to take every wave.

“Do you think he’s there, love?” The corner of his lip lifts in a smirk that makes you think of a snake, the saccharine tone of his voice hypnotising. “Do you think he’s watching us?”

The palm on your hip moves down to your thigh, he squeezes the flesh. You could feel your heart jumping in your throat.

“Should we give him something to watch?” He murmurs seductively, turning his head to bring his lips so close to your neck. The bruising clutch on your wrist is gone only to find its way to your hair, yanking it back to give himself better access.

Your eyes in the mirror are begging but the inner turmoil from his touch is making you question what exactly you’re asking for. Reason tells you it’s for Suho to save you, to grant you escape, but the way you feel a familiar heat swim to your core has you doubting yourself.

“If he was in there,” he whispers, his lips now on your ear, “don’t you think he’d come in here and try to take you from me, love?”

He chuckles to himself, a joke only he can understand.

“Fuck I’d love to see him try.”

His groan has you aching, your body relapsing to what it knows, anticipating the pleasure and pain only they could provide. 

​​“I’m not mad at you for having us arrested, heaven,” he whispers in your ear, gaze softening for a second in the mirror lulling you into a sense of security you couldn’t tell if it was a trap. “In fact I’m a little in awe, a little proud.”

The smirk he gives you seems genuine.

“We deserved it I know,” reassurance fills his voice, he wants you to hear his sincerity. “What I’m mad about, little love…”

The softness is gone, eyes turn piercing, the proverbial snake about to strike.

“Is the fact you let another man touch what’s mine.”

The guttural rumble of his possessive claim sent waves of need down to your cunt, you could feel it pulsing. 

“I’m mine,” you return meekly, trying to find your resolve, but it sounded like a whine.

“Make no mistake Y/n, you’re always going to be mine.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue, not when he sent your eyes rolling back and a shiver down your spine. Fuck he hadn’t even touched you yet, maybe it was true, maybe a part of you would always belong to them, but that didn’t mean all if you did.

“Look at me,” he commands, his breath hitting your neck.

Your blown out eyes meet him in the mirror, that predatory but protective gaze piercing through you. He hums in approval the deep vibration fucking with your senses, making you hazy. 

You both hold eye contact even when you can see the fingers on your thigh stroke soothing circles up your skin. Your lips part with a harsh breath when they rub your mound through the fabric of your panties, the touch light and testing and not nearly enough. 

“You’re fucking soaking wet baby,” he calls you out with a grin.

You grab his wrist when his fingers cup your heat, his thumb soothing circles on your clit. You press against him, the warmth of his chest enveloping your back. You both fit so well together, you were forgetting why exactly you were so angry at him, but simmers of it still remained even through his touch. 

“You know,” he says, opening your leg with his knee to give him more access, “a lot of couples fuck through their problems, should we try?”

He hides his grin, burying his head in you but you can feel it against your skin, the arrogant asshole. 

“You can go and fuck yourself,” you sassed back, lying to yourself that you could be fine if he stopped now, that it wouldn’t leave you a needy mess. 

“But I’d rather fuck you,” he chuckles, breathing you in, savouring the moment while his fingers slide the fabric aside. 

You choke back a moan at the contact of his skin right where you wanted him, the way he spread your wetness until every inch of you was covered in it. 

“You can pretend to regret our relationship all you want, but this,” he emphasises his point by slapping your cunt hard, making you gasp, “still wants me.”

“It wants to get fucked,” you spitefully remark through gritted teeth, “doesn’t have to be you.”

That makes him pause, and you have to bite back the words of displeasure. 

“You’ll pay for that next time love,” he murmurs dangerously. 

“There won’t be a next time,” you try to ridicule him through a laugh but his fingers circle your entrance. 

“You’re lying,” he hums, “next time, I think we should tie you down, make you watch other women touch us in ways only you’re allowed to.”

You bury the fury that ruptures at the image, clenching your jaw to keep from swearing at him and proving the point he was trying to make.

“Maybe then you’d have a semblance of understanding of what you did- the torture you put us through.”

“I wouldn’t care,” you breathe, squirming against his fingers, he needed to shut up and move.

“Liar,” he chuckles knowingly, seeing right through you. Before you, there were many females in his organisation, until his little love demanded he get rid of them all. The memory stretches his grin wider. 

“Why the fuck was it me?” You whisper, your eyes starting to water at the vulnerability of your tone, remembering the same moment he was. “When I went undercover there were so many beautiful women-“

“They’re not you, little love, don’t for a second compare yourself to them,” he kisses your temple softly in reassurance. His face is in your hair, his hand on your throat as you preen to his touch. “You were sweet and addicting with a fire you were trying so desperately to contain.”

He thrusts two fingers in gently, watching your face contort in want in the mirror, smiling at the way your eyes rolled back. You whimper when he squeezes his grip on your neck.

“To think that passion we saw in your eyes was hatred at first,” he smiles as if amused, watching every little reaction you gave him, every proof of love.

“I did,” you confess, pressing your ass against his hard length and making him groan, “I hated you.”

“You were sent to destroy us, love, but instead you reached into our souls and thought there was something worth saving,” he chuckled, nuzzling into you softly as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of you, feeling every part he knew so well. “And save us you did, it was so dark before you our little light, how could we ever let you leave?”

“You’re fucking with my head,” you whimper, head falling back to his chest, it rumbles when he laughs.

“Hmmm? I’m definitely fucking your brains out today Y/n,” he promises with a chuckle, kissing your temple again, but emphasising his point when he scissors his fingers reading you for his cock. “If that’s what you mean.”

This was your fault, you knew what you were getting into when you fell for them. You especially knew Namjoon was the worst of them all. You let his soft side brush away his true nature, and while you never forgot his ruthless persona, you put it to the back of your mind. You foolishly thought you had tamed his cunning cold cruel- 

“Oh fuck,” whatever train of thought you had died, the palm of his hand rubbing your clit, stimulating your already aching cunt to the edge. Your parted lips open wider to release a silent scream, his fingers stroking so deep.

You were so close, you could taste it, unable to control the delirious sounds escaping you. So when he stops and slips his fingers away from you, you have to stop yourself screaming in protest. 

“Up against the mirror Y/n,” he commands gruffly, but you don’t move, you were so fucking close. Fuck him, fucking asshole, you were so fucking close. 

He picks you up with ease, pushing you against the wall so your breath fogs the surface. You hear the zip pull down, your forehead falls forward, your core pulsing in anticipation. He grabs your leg, opening you for him, the head of his cock sliding across your folds until you're whining.

“Stop squirming love,” he warns, but you don’t listen, of course you don’t, so he makes you listen. 

The sound you release when he slaps your clit with his hard dick over and over has him questioning his restraint, fuck he wants to just pound into you but you needed to be taught a fucking lesson. 

“Joonie sensitive,” you whine, but he’s relentless, making you cry out over and over. Fuck you could actually maybe cum like this. 

His self control wavers, his jaw clenched with such a force he thinks it’ll shatter. He couldn’t take it anymore, the swell of his head finds your entrance. Inch by inch, he relishes the feeling of your walls hugging him so fucking tight, the pulse of them pulling him in. He leans over you, trying to regain composure but you feel so good he doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay like this forever, inside of you where he belongs. 

You try to push back into him, but he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you still, grinding his hips against you and he knows it’s not enough. 

“Look at you arching your back little love,” he smirks, “Your body knows where you belong, it’s a shame you tried to take it away from me.”

Your hands ball into fists on the mirror, you can’t even look at yourself right now, you can’t stop writhing on the surface, trying so hard to get him to move. You squeeze him hard, making his head fall against you with a grunt. 

“Behave little love,” he warns, “or I’ll show your colleagues just how well you can take me.”

“Make me,” you dare him even though it comes out as a mumble. 

You were dizzy and disorientated and all you wanted was for him to fucking move. He pushes you against the wall hard, every inch of him covering you so you couldn’t budge. You whine, the cold of the hard surface making you seek his warm body, you slot against him like a damn puzzle piece. He was hell bent on torturing you today, as if you hadn’t suffered enough. 

“Joonie move,” you almost sound like a brat, trying to order him around. 

“I’ll move when I’m ready,” he growls animalistically, barely holding himself back, but he needed to savour this.

You do everything you can to break his control, writhing against him like a bitch in heat. He swallows hard when you clench again. He spanks your ass hard in return, the air gets thicker, you find it harder to breathe. You keep still, the sting of your ass satisfying your craving for a moment, but not for long. 

He picks up your skirt, watching himself inside you, watching the beautiful mess you were making. So wet, so perfect, how did you ever think for a second he would ever let this go? The sight is too much, he releases a restrained groan, done with holding himself back. 

His hand grips your cheeks, turning your mouth to his, forcing his tongue down your throat as he finally pulls out only to push back in impossibly deeper. You took every punishing thrust, his presence surrounding you everywhere, even in front of you where his reflection painted the surface. He smothered you with his existence, the heat of him scolding, but you liked it, you craved it. 

“Do you think your ‘friend’ understands who you fucking belong to now detective L/n?” He chuckles deeply watching your fucked out face in the mirror.

He uses his grip under your knee to turn you towards the camera in the corner of the room.

“Think they can all see little love?” He pants. “How well you fucking take it? How good you are for me?”

You shake your head in protest but it feels too good. Your head falls back on him without the mirror to lean against. His fingers find your clit, his sole purpose to make you lose yourself to him. 

“Fuck look at you shaking baby,” he groans, feeling you pulse around him, drawing closer to the edge. “Your poor pussy just needs to come huh?”

You can hear the smirk in his tone, fucking self satisfied prick. 

“Not as badly as you need it,” you taunt back, feeling your defiance flare despite how your body was begging you to behave.. 

“Fuck you might be right,” he groans, going harder, faster. “I’m always going to need it.”

His confession takes you over, the words pushing you so hard you come apart violently, thrashing against him as you unravel, but he holds you tight. He doesn’t let you fall. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could feel was him and the burst of pleasure that carried on wave after wave, and you never wanted it to stop.

“This is mine,” he grunts as he comes undone inside of you, fucking his cum deeper until it got through to your soul. 

He was a part of you, and you could try to deny it now with his mistakes on the table, but he was so embedded in the fabric of you he couldn’t see where he began and where you ended. His entire existence was for you, it was only fair your cunt, body and soul belonged to him. Maybe the others too, as an afterthought, but you were his first.

He feels the mess slide out of you as he leaves your warmth, turning you softly so you could lean against him as you catch your breath. He holds you tight, arn arm around your middle like the steel of a bar. He has every intention of letting you recover but the way you look up at him with those glossy eyes confirms the fact he will never be satiated, he will always want more of you even if there was nothing left to give. 

“Our little love,” he breathes in your face, stealing a hard kiss, “our little downfall.”

His mouth held you prisoner again and again, humming pleasantly as you let him devour you in so many ways. His kiss was bruising, hungry, overindulging.

Your eyes search his as he parts reluctantly, your mind still hazy, the bliss of sex still circulating your body.

“Why did you lie to me?” You whisper breathlessly against his lips as you come down, and he can hear the vulnerability in your tone, it makes a guilt spread across his chest that feels almost alien. The way you could make him ache like no one else, he should cast you aside for introducing a weakness in him but he wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he confesses sincerely. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I asked you not to hurt him,” your eyes tear up again, and he curses himself and the existence of Kim Suho.

“I know.”

“But you did it anyway,” you continue, “and then you had the gall to lie to my face.”

You wipe away the tears that fall harshly, your mind clearing. You push him away and fix yourself up, knowing from the glances in the mirror you were a mess.

“You always own up to your actions, right or wrong, you never hide them,” you laugh and you think you must sound psychotic. “The Kim Namjoon… I remember the days you would drop dead bodies in front of me without remorse, without ever feeling the need to explain yourself.”

“I was testing you then,” he grunts, remembering those days well. “I needed to know you had the stomach to be with us.”

“I hated you so much,” you confess, swallowing down a sob. “And for the first time since I fell in love with you Joonie, I can feel that hate grow again.”

His jaw clenches, his fist too. He could feel a threat on the tip of his lips, one where the Captain's head would end up on a plate in front of you for dinner but he holds himself back.

“You don’t mean that,” he says between gritted teeth.

“I had you fucking arrested Namjoon,” you argue back fiercely. “Don't tell me what I mean or don’t mean.”

“You also fucked me after the fact,” he states and the harsh words slap you hard. You did. You let him defile you here only moments ago.

“Old habits die hard.”

“Not with me love,” he dismisses the thought. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

“We’ll see,” you challenge, feeling that earlier conviction rise. 

“Understand something Y/n,” he says seriously, his face solemn and hard in a way you had witnessed rarely. This was Kim Namjoon with something to lose. “You can run, you can fight, you can hate me if you need to, but there isn’t a life worth living for us without you in it.”

He takes his seat back in the interrogation chair, putting his handcuffs back on with ease, all while keeping his eye contact with you. 

“You want me here, you want to punish me,” he continues, “fine, this where I’ll stay until you’re appeased, until you forgive me.”

“I won’t,” you deny, shaking your head. 

“You will.”

[ki-yomii]

down on you | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, hair pulling, standing missionary, rough sex, porn w/ plot, mafia!jk, detective!reader, established relationship, mild angst, mild violence ➥ summary | It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all. ➥ notes | the mafia!jk au no one asked for aka an excuse to write smut w/ feeling lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

On his knees staring down the barrel of a loaded gun with a mouthful of blood, he knows this is the end of the line. He’s going to die like a rat in the gutter - no mercy to be found, loopholes to exploit or bribes to be made.

This is the real deal, and there’s no coming back.

Judgement Day comes in the form of a man with dark eyes and a dangerous smirk: Golden, the deadliest guard dog of the underground.

Credited with dozens of hits, you won’t know he’s there until it’s too late. Trying to keep him pinned is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, or a whisper on the wind.

And you won’t know he’s coming until you feel the breath on the back of your neck, hear the crack of a bullet ringing in your ears.

Belonging to one of the most powerful men in the world: Kim Namjoon, he’s more war machine than man.

“Go ahead, do it!” He spits at Golden’s feet, a mess of blood and drool staining the crisp leather of his combat boots. “Killing me won’t change a goddamn thing.”

A coy smile tugs at Golden’s mouth, his grin all sharp teeth and violence. He stays where he stands, his silhouette haloed by distant streetlights.

Water laps at the docks, the tang of salt heavy in the mid-summer Seoul air. There’s no rush; they both know he’ll be dead and dumped just like all the rest of the garbage in this rotting city.

“Come on, you prick! Pull the fucking trigger already.”

Golden cocks his head, and hums in the back of his throat. 

“Tch! I hope you’ve got a lot of bullets - we’re gonna knock the crown off Kim’s head one way or another.”

Golden thumbs at the safety of his gun, the barrel glinting through the shadows. “Ahh, is that what you think?” He shrugs, a lazy ripple of muscle. “Well, I have to say: I’d love to see you try.”

The night is shattered by the resounding crack of a gunshot and an echoing splash of something heavy dropping into the water below.

You climb out of the nondescript government-issue car. The faintest tremble of your fingers nearly gives you away but you’re able to reign in the impulse to smooth your hands over your clothes at the last second.

Showing weakness is the last thing you need to be doing right now.

Especially here.

Right in front of where you’ve parked - shoved between two looming apartment complexes - sits a quaint, vintage building. The rough brick face is at odds with the sleek surroundings, but tinted windows keep prying eyes at bay while the classy signing hanging above the door reads The Red Bullet written in caps.

If you didn’t know better, it would be hard to believe this otherwise mundane storefront is a cover for one of the most dangerous international organizations based out of South Korea.

Not only do they hold the keys to the kingdom, but their success is largely in part because they spearhead operations from government espionage all the way to simple blackmail.

Even though it’s been several months since you darkened its doorstep, the familiar sight is enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Send your heart galloping into a tailspin as your stomach swoops.

While time away helped clear your head of stolen kisses and promises whispered in dark rooms, it also drove the longing bone deep.

In those quiet moments to yourself, when you have nothing else to distract from how lonely you are, you miss this place like one misses a limb.

You didn’t realize how attached you were to these four walls until it was too late: the hazy air filled with whorls of smoke, the overhead lights that bathe everything in red, the plush chairs you spent many nights sprawled across, the glossy black stages.

You don’t know how, you don’t know when but at some point it (he) started feeling like home. A luxury you can’t afford. Not again. After all, if you give in, any progress you made outside of his gravitational pull will be for naught.

Which puts you in a dangerous position as you find yourself back where it began; feelings at war with duty, mind vs heart. Because even if it leads you to a place you could go a million years without ever seeing again, you have to follow the trail of bodies.

A bouncer grants you access, the heavy door slamming shut behind you like a death knell as he herds you towards the back of the club.

It’s outside of official operating hours but it’s no less busy inside, men and women alike in scattered conversation as you pass through.

“It’s nice to see you again,” the bouncer murmurs, chancing a quick glance at your profile. “Been a while.”

You swallow, gaze darting down to your shoes. “Ah - yeah… Got busy with work. It’s - it’s nice to see you too.”

The small talk fizzles out, a snuffed candle as you arrive at a cordoned off room, “Here we are. Mr Kim is already expecting you.”

Any further pleasantries grow stale on your tongue as you enter the private booth, fighting against the lump in your throat to manage a hoarse ‘thank you’.

And then you find yourself left alone with the man himself, Kim Namjoon. He’s as intimidating as you remember, lounging back into the leather booth with his ankles crossed.

A lukewarm smile stretches across his lips, the slightest hint of a dimple peeking out from the valley of his cheek. Standing at attention on either side of his reposing form are two massive bodyguards. Their hands rest on the butts of their guns, daring any who enter to try and make a move.

“It’s good to see you again. But I gotta ask - what’s the occasion, Detective?” Namjoon hums. “I thought we were past all this.” He waves a nebulous hand between your bodies. “After all, you’re practically family.”

You ignore the hidden barb with a wince. “Mr Kim, you know why I’m here.”

“I used to know why a long time ago.” A well-groomed brow raises, his gaze glacial as it spears you in place. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Please, Mr Kim. I don’t want to make this more difficult than it is. I just need to know about the man they fished out of the harbor, and then I’ll be on my way. So… who was he?”

Namjoon scoffs. “What makes you think I know more than the police?”

There’s a flash of a smirk, barely noticed, before his face returns to its neutral expression. As calm and cool as a placid river. “A john’s a john. What I do want to know is why you care so much?”

The underlying question is clear; why are you really here?

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with civillians.”

“Oh? So I’m a civilian now.” His expression is not unlike the cat that caught the canary: vicious and delighting in the discomfort his evasions are causing. “Gotta say that’s a new one for me.”

Sighing in defeat, you say, “Alright, enough. I get it. I’m wasting my time with you. Let me ask this instead: where is he?” 

“He doesn’t know any more about this than I do,” he says, waving a blase hand towards a door off to the left, “But if you insist, you can find him in the office. Oh, and Detective?”

“...Yes?”

“Take your time, I’ll be out on business all afternoon.”

With a curt nod, you flee the room amid low-throated chuckles and enter the office. Standing near the desk, his broad back turned towards the door, you find the man you simultaneously want to see the most and run from the fastest.

He turns around, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. Your breath stutters in your chest, and you nearly swallow your tongue as your eyes trace over the cut of his body.

The moment your eyes meet, those many months spent cultivating time and distance turn to ash. You forgot how even the mere sight of him affects you, any resistance to his many charms virtually nonexistent as the world falls away.

Rich, coffee dark; his gaze sucks you in until it’s all you can do not to reach out, to brush your fingers over his edges and feel them soften beneath your palms.

Rocking back on your heels, you clear your throat and glance to the side as you remain standing in the entryway, more than a little off-kilter.

Coming back after so long apart, only to find him the same as the day you left… How do you reconcile everything that’s changed with everything that was?

“Well, hello there.” Jungkook croons, leaning his hip against the corner of the desk with a roll of his shoulders. His arms cross over the trunk of his chest, accentuating the bulk of his chest, the flex of inked bicep. “Long time no see.”

Shifting, you gulp. “Ah - yeah…”

The burn of his gaze - a palpable sensation prickling across your skin - tracks a path from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes as he gives you a thorough once-over.

“You’re looking good,” Jungkook hums in approval, “real good. I’ve missed those pretty eyes of yours.”

“You - you too.”

Your attention doesn’t know where to settle: drifting from the curve of his shoulders to the jut of his bloody knuckles, the tuck of his trim hips to the thick-soled combat boots.

Tiny hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, and your palms slick with sweat.

“I mean, you look… y’know, uh, good too.”

A flash of a crooked smirk, the raising of a pierced brow gets your blood pumping, your heart tattooing a rhythm against your ribs. Emboldens you to reach back with shaky fingers to turn the lock. The sound grates down your spine, bolts of anticipation slicing through you.

It was dumb to think coming here, seeing him again, would end any other way than his taste on your tongue and his cock in your cunt. Hope makes fools of us all.

Should’ve known better but you’d been hopeful those days were long behind you. Now you realize it was inevitable.

After all, Jungkook is magnetic.

The black hole at the center of your universe, consuming everything in its path until he’s what remains in your head, your heart. You’re helpless, ceaselessly drawn to him like a moth to flame.

And try as you might, you can’t say no to a face like that.

Never could, in fact.

Failure to extract yourself from his orbit during your not-relationship is nothing new. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it difficult.

After all, you still have some dignity intact.

So try, try, try again.

“Ahem.” You try to banish the heat from your cheeks, guiding the conversation into the correct territory. “I’m not here on a-a social call, Jeon. I need to know: were you the one that killed and dumped the john in the harbor?”

Stalking closer, a lazy jungle cat on the prowl, Jungkook crosses the distance between you. He only stops once your bodies brush with every labored inhale. Heat radiates from him, and you’re achingly aware of every point of contact.

The light scent of his cologne teases your nose, and his eyes - god, his eyes. They’re shaded and hungry, devouring your expression with single-minded possessiveness. 

“What makes you think I know anything about that?”

“Jeon -- Jungkook.”

He hums.

Your heart thrums, pulse rushing hard through your head until you feel faint, blood surging the longer you stay in close contact. The shameful clench of your cunt makes your cheeks burn all the brighter.

The last time you were looking up at him like this, his hand was on your jaw while his cock thrust balls deep.

“C’mon, you know that isn’t going to work. This is me you’re talking to, not some rookie.”

“Mm,” he purrs, “it is you I’m talking to, isn’t it?”

You manage to bite back the groan but can’t stop your eyes from rolling even if there’s the slightest hint of a stutter when you reply, “Please, I just need to know if you killed him.”

Jungkook looms tall and proud, crowding closer. “And if I did, baby?” he asks.

Instinctively you back up, only to be followed step by step. A game of cat and mouse that finds you pinned against the wall before long. With nowhere to run, you watch, heart in your throat, as Jungkook dips his dark head.

His nose runs along the length of your neck, breath puffing across your sensitive skin as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.

“I - I…”

“Would you see me in handcuffs?” His lips caress the underside of your jaw, a soft groan escaping him. “… C’mon, answer me. Would you?”

“I would - if I had to.”

As much as you wish that was true, you know in your heart of heart's you would do everything in your power to make sure that never happens.

No matter how much you like to think you’d do the right thing when push comes to shove, you’d choose him a thousand times over.

His eyes dance playfully. “Careful, I might like it.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” you say with a snort.

Jungkook chuckles low and warm, using the arm around your waist to tug you into the safety of his body. The softness of your breasts presses into the hard planes of his chest, your nipples pebbling through the thin cotton shirt you wear.

With a deep-throated groan, his hands encircle the curves of your hips as a thickly muscled thigh slots between yours.

An answering quiet sigh gets his blood pumping and his cock twitching.

“Mm, something tells me you’d enjoy it just as much, Detective.”

The use of your title is a rude awakening.

“Jungkook,” You warn, moving to push him away. Only once you start touching him, you can’t stop. His muscles flex beneath your curious fingertips. “We really shouldn’t.”

You’re sure if he could, Jungkook would spend days worshipping between your thighs, velvet heat wrapped around his tongue and hands in his hair as he brings you to peak again and again until you’re a sobbing, sopping, boneless mess beneath him.

“Come on, I know you want me - that you’ve missed me. I can see it in your eyes.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, tongue flickering out for a brief taste before a rough thumb skates across your bottom lip, tugging down to expose your teeth, the glitter of your tongue as it darts out to flick over the pad of his finger..

“I’ve certainly missed you, baby. Want me to show you?”

Even though you refuse to admit anything out loud, you can’t help but angle your throat back and grind into his hips pressed against yours.

Jungkook tsks, “That’s alright. I’ll get that pretty mouth open one way or another.”

Before you can retort, a mouth swoops down to fuse with yours in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. A low, broken moan punches from your chest.

Reaching up, your fingers sink into the mane of dark hair that brushes the cut of Jungkook’s jaw. Soft, thick, and wavy in your grip; you tug at the roots.

Jungkook hisses. 

Teeth nip at your lip, kittenish licks soothing away the string as blood bursts across your tongues. The thigh shoved between yours grinds up with every wet, sloppy pass of your lips.

Thick muscle spreads your pussy open through the thin slacks of your work uniform. Sparks of pleasure dance down your spine with every rock against your swollen clit.

“S-Shit!” Your shoulders curl in, a shudder jerking through you. “K-Kook, I… !”

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Jungkook growls, rutting his cock against the jut of your hip. The wet patch you’re making on his jeans grows larger with every filthy grind. “You’ve been gone too fucking long. Never again, you hear me?”

You claw at his shoulders, stuttering out, “there’s noth-ing you can do t’stop me.”

“If you don’t come back to me,” his eyes are dark and stormy, voice whiskey rough, “I’ll find you.”

It’s not a threat - it’s a promise.

“Then make sure I never want to leave,” you challenge breathlessly, staring into his blown out pupils, “Make me want to stay.”

Above all else, you think.

The words are barely past your lips when Jungkook accepts your challenge with gusto (just like you knew he would). Without delay, he thumbs open the button on your pants.

Refusing to let you look away, Jungkook yanks them to your feet and swings you up into his arms one-handed. They hang from your ankle like a chain.

Your surprised squeak is quickly swallowed up by a moan when he settles you over the bulge in his pants, your cunt hovering over his erection.

The heat of his skin sinks through the thin cotton of your panties, so, so close to where you need him. Slick soaks into the fabric, and clings to your inner thighs.

Every shift is a smooth, sticky glide of folds that stirs, and stokes the ember of desire smoldering behind your navel.

“Kook,” you breathe. “Please.”

Your head rolls back, and you sag into his chest. Your hips twitch in pathetic little attempts, trying to get pressure where you need it. Having him hot and hard and all for you; any distance between you is suddenly unbearable.

He needs to spread you wide and stuff you full with every inch of his thick cock until he’s so deep you won’t be able to walk for days.

“Shh baby, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, gaze heavy and possessive. “I’m gonna ruin you so good, you’ll have no choice but to come back. You’re mine.”

“Says who?”

“Hmm. You don’t think you are?”

Nibbling on your ear, Jungkook slips a finger under the hem of your panties. He smirks when you keen, rubbing his knuckle up and down your sloppy folds with teasing pressure.

“How about I show you what your body already knows?”

Wasting no time, he lifts you off his cock, the scrap of cloth fluttering to the ground. His free hand dives between your bodies. Then comes the clink of a belt, the sound of a zipper pulling down.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, your body coiled with anticipation as your stomach swoops at the brush of his fingers along the underside of your thigh.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” Jungkook twists his wrist, hips arching back. “And it’s all for me. Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside this pretty pussy.”

Any response dies on your tongue, brain short-circuiting as the slick, fat cockhead rubs along your slit. Pressing against your entrance the slightest bit before slipping up to nudge at your clit - coating himself up in your sticky juices.

The ultimate tease - something Jungkook’s always been overly fond of doing until you’re out of your mind with desperation.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, cheeks on fire and eyes half-lidded as you circle your hips. “Stop playing around. I want it - want you, Kook.”

“Oh, baby,” he smiles, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “You’ll take whatever I give you.”

You can’t stifle the broken sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Liquid fire surges through your veins, a thousand bolts of lightening crackling beneath the surface of your skin. Your pussy is tender, swollen. Walls fluttering in time with your heartbeat. 

“Ha, you’re so needy for me.”

Jungkook’s lips brush away the moisture around your eyes, his thumb drawing soothing circles into the base of your spine. All the while, his torturous grinding never ceases.

“Aren’t you?”

You croak, “I can’t – Kook, please. Anything, I’ll do anything you want just fuck me.”

The flash of his eyes is your only warning before he’s right there, your walls embracing the girth of his erection inch by inch. Every ridge, every jerk as he seats himself as deep inside your silken heat as he can is absolute heaven.

The stretch as you take him to the hilt sends you careening towards the edge, eyes rolling back and toes curling in your shoes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” you whimper.

“Shit!” Jungkook grits his teeth, squeezing the base of his cock as you tighten  around him. With every deep inhale, his pelvis brushes your swollen, needy clit. “Forgot how good you feel wrapped around my dick, baby.”

“Me too,” You gasp, tightening your legs around Jungkook’s hips.”Me too, Kook.”

Dropping his forehead to yours, he says gruffly, “‘m not gonna last long.”

Making a noise of acknowledgement, you wiggle your hips. Sinking your teeth into the side of Jungkook’s jaw, you bite and suck at his skin, wanting to leave a mark to remember you by. His reaction is instantaneous, releasing the grip on his shaft to grab a fist full of hair.

He yanks back.

The long, elegant line of your throat is exposed to his butterfly kisses and scolding love bites.

“Now you’ve really asked for it,” Jungkook huffs out with a dirty chuckle.

“Then give it to me.” You lick your puffy lips, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Show me who I belong to.”  

The brewing hurricane in his eyes is unleashed. Wide palms and strong fingers grip your hips so tight you feel bones grind together. His stance widens, his unwavering gaze locking onto your face, brow pinched, and mouth slack.

His lip piercing glints in the light, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip. Dark curls tussle about his head, a wild halo that sweeps down into the burning umber of his eyes.

Helpless, you succumb - enchanted by the darkness peering at you from behind those dangerous eyes. He’s ethereal; a siren song that threatens to drown you, swallow you whole.

You’d happily let him, you realize with a shiver.

It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all.

“Hold on tight,” Jungkook says, hooking his hands under your bottom. 

And then, he’s jackhammering into your cunt so hard and fast all you can do is hold on for the ride. Punch drunk and moaning as he manhandles you how he likes, spreads you wide and stuffs you full until you’re panting for breath and clinging to sanity by your fingernails.

“Fuck yes, that’s it. Look how well your pretty pussy always takes my fat cock.”

His low voice whispering filthy praises in your ear makes you whimper, whine, and writhe as the band of pleasure coiling tight in your belly comes close to snapping. It’s the fastest he’s ever fucked an orgasm out of you, and it feels so good you don’t even care.

The pace is brutal, slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips come morning. But it’ll be so fucking worth it. You’re going to cum hard and long, you just know it.

About to melt as Jungkook fucks the slick out of you, groaning as you drip down the base of his cock, his balls - his very own pretty little mess.

“Yeah, you gonna cum, baby?” he laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to the side of your face. “Can feel how - haaah shit - how tight you’re squeezing me.”

“Uh-huh,” you cry, holding onto the tops of his wide shoulders. Every thrust has his cockhead dragging over the spongy patch of your g-spot, sending fissions of pleasure rocketing through your nervous system. “So - so close, baby. Just a little more, I--”

Balancing yourself, you lift up only to slam back down, meeting Jungkook’s thrust with all the force of gravity. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

Crashing over you like a tsunami, your orgasm shoots through your limbs and zips down your spine. A warm rush of cum soaks Jungkook’s shaft, the wet and messy sound of your squirt splashing against the floor secondary to the cry that claws its way out of your throat.

“K-Kook!”

Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he helps you keep bouncing up and down on his erection. “Yeah, that’s it - keep going, baby. Wanna feel you keep cumming all over this cock.”

Aftershocks slice through you like lightning, tiny jolts of electricity. As you come down from your high, your gummy walls pulse, milking at Jungkook’s thick shaft.

He groans softly whenever your muscles tense, release; your body a worn-out rubber band as your breath stutters from you.

Then a hand pets down your flank, your skin shivering with hypersensitivity at the tender touch. “S’okay. Just breathe, baby.”

Peeling open your heavy eyes, you look up at his face. Take in the crinkle of his brow and the ravenous expression. Even floating on a sea of bliss, white noise fills your ears, you want more.

You slur, determined, “Kook, baby, please. Cum in me, want you s’bad.”

“Fuck! Can’t just say shit like that to me or I…” Jungkook bites down onto the tender crook of your neck, muffling his grunts in your flesh. “Shit - ’m so --”

You cry out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, “A-haah, K-Kook!”

Snapping his hips forward one last time, Jungkook grinds as deep as he can get and lets go. The fat head of his cock kisses your cervix, his length throbbing in time with his heartbeat as a rush of cum floods your insides.

“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, rutting once - twice into the cradle of your body, “take it like a good girl.”

He croons when you whine at the press of his pelvis against your oversensitive clit. Thready sparks of pain shoot down your legs that hang limply over his forearms. Every breath stutters from your lungs, slow and deep.

“No more, can’t - can’t…” Shifting, you arch your spine and burrow your head into his chest, nearly catatonic in his arms. “S’too much.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fingers brush over your closed eyelids, smoothing over the arch of your brow. With every kiss dropped to the top of your head, he mumbles in dulcet tones, “I really have missed you, you know.”

You mewl in response as strong fingers knead the backs of your thighs.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

“Oh,” you can’t muster up enough energy to say anything more, body tender and trembling with little aftershocks, “s’that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He chuckles. “You’re staying here - right where I want you.”

In lieu of a response, you pick your head up off the pillow of his chest and seek out his gaze. Liquid soft; he’s looking at you like you hung the world on a string.

“I’ve missed you too, Kook,” you say with a gentle smile.

You’ll allow yourself this moment of weakness when there’s no space between your bodies or hearts. Titles don’t matter much when he’s cradling you to his chest like a piece of precious china.

Between the two of us, you’re the one who hung the moon and stars, you think while combing back his sweaty bangs.

And I think I love you, you whisper voiceless against his lips.

[aft3rhrs]

— pastel pink ღ

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!father au

warnings: dead dove, yandere, pseudo incest, cheating, age gap (the reader is always 18+!), corruption, porn, cnc themes, mentions of masturbation, choking, dub con, fingering, daddy kink, rough sex, humiliation, praise, dirty talk, allusions to sadism & masochism, multiple orgasms, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, aftercare

*use of the words “rape”, “abuse”.

masterlist

Namjoon used to think that you didn't quite understand the consequences of playing with fire. It was not surprising, after all, considering your young age. You were but an inexperienced cub compared to the wolf that raised you, not yet having grasped the unbridled nature of all things wild.

Sooner or later, though, inching too close to the flames was bound to get you burned. Somewhere in the darkest depths of his heart, Namjoon craved to inflict the pain of the heat on you, mark his territory with a swirl of scars.

Wasn't every father's daughter his most precious gift? Pretty like a doll, with a heart that had flowers and thorns tangling through it. A bricked, bleeding house that welcomed no intruders. He wanted nothing more than to keep it safe.

It was those protective instincts that had always kept him in check, tamed, in constant agony over something he could never have.

Until tonight.

Until it turned out your doe eyes and the pastel pink of your bedroom were misleading lies; and you yearned for the burn of the fire, simply too afraid to dive into its scorching depths.

And what was his duty if not to help you experience life, fulfill all your soul's desires? With immense love and a guiding, fatherly hand, now stuck in between your soft thighs.

"Is this what you like?"

The hoarse whisper made you clench. You whimpered in response, your eyes growing warm.

"No."

You knew it was pointless to lie; he could feel you soaking his fingers, pulsing around their thick girth. But it was too much handle, and the filthy video playing on the screen made you want to shrink.

"Yeah," Namjoon coaxed, breathing into your ear. "You like watching old men fuck their daughters? Like watching them abuse their good little girls?"

Relentless, he pumped the digits in and out of your poor cunt, and the tears overflowed, a dangerous combination of the shame and the orgasm rippling through you. From deep inside your tummy, all the way through your spine, prompting your thighs to tremble on top of his.

What a stupid mistake; to lie down and let your eyes flutter closed right after coming. You weren't even sure when you drifted off, your laptop barely shut, still resting by your side. Namjoon came into your bedroom to check on you, tuck you in and turn off the light, as he'd done a hundred of times before.

The website on the screen caught his eye.

Dreams were safe; reality was different. No one was ever supposed to see this side of you. Especially not the man whose name was stamped all over the walls of the private, forbidden rooms that took up the space in your head. Not the man you looked up to, respectable and smart, all warmth and dimpled smiles, with such deep, kind eyes behind his pristine glasses.

Not Namjoon.

"Fuck," he cursed softly, one arm curled around your waist, grounding you. "That's it..."

Hips stilling, you attempted to catch your breath. Dizziness washed over you. You've never felt this good before; and perhaps a part of the reason why was that you were doing something very bad. The thought of your mother coming home still lingered at the back of your mind — no longer an imminent threat, the bullet dissolving in the haze of the bliss, though its existing chill persisted.

This would be quite a sight for the poor woman to witness; her husband's fingers buried deep in her only daughter's cunt, legs spread wide open on his lap. The lewd porn playing on your laptop only served as the final nail in the coffin.

You winced as Namjoon slipped out of you gently, disoriented. Your legs felt like jelly, but his hold on you was secure, your only safety net.

He stood up, lifting you with him. He didn't try to lead you back to your bed, instead placing a large palm on the small of your back and pushing forward.

You let your cheek rest on the cold surface of the desk, trying to ignore the dirty sounds of sex coming from the screen. Maybe it was the emotions muddling your brain, but you couldn't move, helpless as an animal with their leg caught in a trap.

In spite of the carelessness on your part, you've never imagined Namjoon reacting this way. You'd thought he would have been disgusted, concerned — embarrassed at the very least — and the topic would never be brought up.

Yet here he was, unzipping his pants, about to fuck you on the same desk you occupied to complete your homework every night. In the same room that used to be adorned in plushies and fairy lights, saturated with all of your innocence.

It was different than any taboo feeling or thought you might have entertained in secret; the forbidden fruit no longer a fantasy, but a sin weighing down on the palm of your hand, ripe for the tasting. Its only price was being cast out.

Namjoon caressed your ass, the foreign sensation causing more slick to dribble down the apex of your thighs.

"Such a good slut," he breathed.

The word whipped through you, leaving your skin stinging and lungs emptied of air. He hasn't addressed you with anything but respect before; in fact, you didn't think you've ever heard him use such vulgar language.

You clenched, as though the degradation chipped away at your brain, dumbed it down to a blissful void.

"No," you whined out in protest; of what, you weren't sure anymore.

You felt his hand lock around your wrists.

"Yeah, you are," he cooed. "You're my little toy, and toys get played with. I may be too old for that..." he slid your underwear down your thighs, "but you're not, are you, baby?"

A shiver ran through you, arousal mingling with a tinge of fear the moment he leaned over you, his chest resting firm against your back.

"Don't you want daddy to play with you?" He whispered, flooding your nape with goosebumps. "Seems to me that you do."

This wasn't the Namjoon you've grown to know; this was something different, sinful and ravenous. The rattle of the cage was nothing compared to it being set loose, claiming ownership over you, corrupting and consuming.

But you were wetter than ever, slick flowing like honey and coating the heated, swollen tip of his cock as soon as it pressed against you.

Namjoon was faring no better; his collar open and tie loosened, shirt wrinkled with the memory of your fingers grasping at it. All of his self restraint was gone, the cracked lock broken and the dented cage empty.

You did that.

He had a wife, a job, a good reputation. He worked hard to achieve success, however, the path laid out before him has always looked rather bleak without you in the picture.

And any doubts that troubled him in the past went up in the flames the moment he peeked at your laptop. Of course it was him you longed for, his cock you needed in your little pussy. You were daddy's perfect little girl, all too aware of your purpose. To be ruined and loved and owned by him.

His hand encased your neck, a grip that instantly made your head tingle. He pulled you up, letting you sink into his chest. His breath tickled your ear, and the girthy cockhead pushed against your slit once more, leaking.

"Why are you shaking, baby?" he inquired, sliding his free hand up your stomach. Palm wide open, only to close around your breast and squeeze. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

No. Yes? No. It was so wrong. You shook your head, like that would change anything; turn back time, conceal the truth, get you out of trouble.

Namjoon chuckled.

"It is," he husked, plush lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He moved his hips, rubbing himself against your nub teasingly. "You wanted daddy's cock, just like all these dirty girls on screen."

He eased his hold on your throat, but his hand remained around it; a reminder that he was in control.

Your head was swimming as more oxygen rushed in, but it made almost no difference. His words, his touch, they had a hold on you too, squeezing your lungs, making your clit throb beneath his touch.

"Wanted to be mine..." his tone mellowed out to silk, seductive and light. "Wanted to be my pretty, little angel, and take it behind mummy's back, hm?"

Eyes teary and barely open, you gasped.

"Even better if I just make you take it, right? You won't have to feel so guilty, and you can still slobber and cream all over it."

Your knees were close to giving out, wetness gushing obscenely onto his thick length. As if he could sense it, Namjoon tightened his arm around you, lifting a hand to wipe away the tears that fell.

"Oh sweetheart," he shushed, "see? Daddy knows what you need. Your eyes are wet, but your pussy is wetter. Bet it's tight, too. Tighter than your mother's."

He palmed his cock, at last positioning it back at your small entrance.

"Not that I ever wanted hers anyway."

It seemed your soul left your body the moment he sank in, and he swallowed all of it with his kiss. Any remnants of your thoughts, integrity or coherence; all swiped away with the lick of his tongue and the delicious stretch that left your cunt clenching and insides churning.

The noise he let out sent a thrill through you. He broke the kiss, broke you, his gleaming eyes hooded and adoring, staring deep into yours. Time seemed to fizzle out of existence.

Then he thrusted.

"Fucking whore."

A croaky whisper, followed by a moan you barely recognized as your own.

"I tried to stay away, but my baby just had to be a fucking whore. Couldn't help wanting daddy to rape her."

You shuddered, breath caught in your throat and hand clutching his bicep.

There was no going back, and at this point, it didn't matter. At this point, exposed and full of him, you ached for more; and like a good dad, Namjoon was there to cater to your needs.

He pulled out, only to slide back inside the velvety heat, pleasure bursting and simmering through. No more teasing; just shivers, and long, deep strokes that made his balls slap against your skin.

His breath fanned your neck, unsteady, edged with soft groans. He barely fit inside you, but your pussy took him so well, as though it was always meant to be his.

The way he fucked you drowned out whatever porn was still playing on your laptop, long forgotten, nothing compared to the depravity happening right in front of it. He pounded into you harder, keeping a steady pace. The desk began to thud, repeatedly hitting the wall behind it.

"Like that?" He mumbled into your cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing your stiff nipple. "Right there?"

He required no verbal answer. Not when you were so soft and pliant in his arms, the rush taking over. Still, he enjoyed the way you squirmed at the questions, eyes closed and luscious lips wide open, making the most heavenly little sounds.

He wasn't going to last; there was no time to waste, besides, the simple fact that your warm, wet hole was taking his cock — raw — was enough to push him close to the edge.

Desperate, he took a hold of your jaw and turned your face towards him. His lips were an inch away from yours, the intimacy of it tender and aching, like a bruise.

"Say, 'thank you, daddy,'" he murmured. '"Thank you for fucking my tight, little cunt.'"

You responded with a mewl, your muscles tensing along with the knot in your tummy.

"Gonna—"

Namjoon groaned. Too out of breath to finish the sentence, too fucked out, you let yourself go limp as he pummeled into you.

"Come?" He suggested, wanting to laugh at how quickly you nodded, but your walls were getting so tight only a moan came out. "Fuck. Good girl, making daddy so proud." His forehead touched yours, as if he could get any closer. "You deserve a reward."

The moment you clamped down on him, he muffled the cry that broke through with his lips, crashing them into yours. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth, reaching the peak of his limit as your cunt quivered, effortlessly massaging his cock with the convulsions. He couldn't resist its pull sucking him in, trapping him in place to do what it was made for.

He groaned loudly, letting his seed spill as deep as it would go, letting you see stars right there on the ceiling; like the glowing stickers he used to put up there for you, just an old father and daughter tradition. Your eyes rolled back, and it had him gritting his teeth, grinding into you until you couldn't stand, and his own legs barely kept him up anymore.

He panted softly, gulping as you melted into him, both of his arms hugging your waist. Slowly, the heat was receding, and in its stead serenity crept in.

It was quiet when he washed you up, his hands gentle, wiping the mess in between your thighs and the sweat off your brow. Dressed in a clean shirt and underwear, you climbed under your blanket. Beyond sleepy and sated, your heart still felt heavy.

The edge of the mattress dipped as Namjoon sat down beside you, extending his arm to cup your cheek. Only then did he meet your eyes.

"I love you."

He's said it to you before, but it felt different now. It was different. And it made him hesitate, reduced his voice to a whisper.

"You're the best thing... that's ever happened to me. That's never gonna change. You know that, right?"

You nodded, wondering how in such a messed up situation a few words could feel so comforting. Perhaps it was because they were coming from him. Would that always be enough? Will it feel the same when you wake up in the morning?

Namjoon bent down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple, coaxing your eyes to shut.

"Don't worry about anything, okay? Just trust me, baby. And get some rest."

You relaxed, acknowledging the request with a small sigh. He watched you fall asleep, stroking your hair, trying not to dwell on how much he wished he could stay. At least he'd be able to get into bed before his wife came home.

In the darkness of his bedroom, he settled into the cool sheets, his glasses set aside and clothes neatly folded. He heard the front door unlock, the keys jiggling, and closed his eyes.

Time to sleep.

Time for a change of plans was awaiting him tomorrow.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @art-3-miss @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @mother2monsters @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @jksteponme @httpjeonlicious @iceprincessviviane

[andi-kook]

DEAD KIDS ✦ Chapter 2

SUMMARY: A group of university students kidnaps their rich batchmate for ransom. However, things take a darker turn when the new recruit grows a dangerous obsession with the captive and all hell breaks loose.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Slow burn Yandere, Crime AU

WARNINGS: Not suitable for audiences below 18. Please do not engage with the story if you are underage. WATCH OUT FOR: dark and morally corrupt characters, foul language, mention of Catholicism, slut shaming and objectification of women, mention of inappropriate relationship between professor/student, mentions and depiction of “rape” and “rape fantasy” throughout the story, masturbation, threats, MC has an NSFW blog with hard kinks and fantasies, non consensual touching. Overall, this is a disturbing chapter – based on my standards – so if you are not comfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Inspired by the film, Dead Kids (2019).

TAGLIST: @hopeworldsupremacy @aliajomarie011 @ackercute @tatumrileyslover @ane102 @jjk174 @dontcallmeelle @merrygo1427 @taekritimin123 @r1r111 @gguksfilter @coralmusicblaze

If I didn’t tag you – either your blog doesn’t exist according to Tumblr or because you did not show your age in your blog. Thank you!

ANDI: I send my love to the beautiful souls who sent me asks about Dead Kids as well as these equally beautiful souls – @.taekritimin123 @.hellbornsworld @.tinytangerineangel @.namjesusdaughter – for commenting on Chapter 1. I cannot express just how much I appreciate your words. I would have tagged you directly, but I wasn’t sure if you would want that. But I wanted to show my appreciation.

WORD COUNT: 3K

“Why did you really want to take her?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as they sit and eat the ramen he cooked around the living area. Beside him, Yoongi and Hoseok are fast asleep, the latter clutching onto the former’s arm like it’s his plushie while the former has his head thrown against the headrest.

Namjoon, who is seated on the other makeshift sofa, gulps down the soup from his ramen before letting out a satisfied sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth. “How many times do we have to say that we kidnapped Y/N for ransom?”

“I’m not stupid, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “We’re already tied to this shit until the ransom drop. The least you can do is be upfront on why you did this in the first place. I’m not taking a bullet for you or anyone.”

The buzz-cut haired man leans his back against the sofa, which unlike his premium one, is built from scratch by Jungkook using old wood and cases of beers around the warehouse. He gazes at Jungkook for a while, studying him while swimming in his own thoughts. The tattooed man wonders if Namjoon is contemplating telling him the truth. He wonders if the two sleeping men beside him also knew the truth.

They claim to have been friends since the fourth grade, but does time really make you know a person inside out?

“My father didn’t used to be the way he is now – corrupt. Growing up, I looked up to him because of how honest and upstanding he was as a cop. I knew he did some off-the-books shit, but he still had a moral compass, still had lines he didn’t cross. But then he met Y/N’s father, Kim Seokjin, when I was ten. Suddenly, everything changed,” Namjoon narrates, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head and rubs his palms on his baggy jeans. “He went from being a great husband and father to my mother and I to a complete asshole. We didn’t have religion but after meeting Kim Seokjin, we were suddenly Catholics, attending church with his family every Sunday. I was baptized and Kim Seokjin became my godfather. But the worst part was seeing him erase all the lines he drew and swore never to cross when he began to use his position as a detective and then eventually sergeant to now the chief of the entire police force in Seoul to protect Kim Seokjin and his criminal empire.”

Jungkook inhales deeply. “So, kidnapping Y/N is you taking on revenge against Kim Seokjin for corrupting your father? It is personal. It’s never about the money?”

“Of course, the money is important and integral to the plan. But yes, you are correct – I want to avenge my father from Kim Seokjin by hitting him where I know it will hurt the most: his only daughter, Y/N.”

“You promised that we are not going to hurt her,” Jungkook counters immediately.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “If you do that – what makes you different than Kim Seokjin?”

“Why are you so protective of her?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “What? Just because she gave you a boner, you’re suddenly fucking in love with her? Don’t think I didn’t notice. We all did. Yoongi is right – drop the morally upright act, Jeon. You’re just as demented as we are. The moment you agreed to this plan, you’re just as fucked up.”

The sudden call out makes Jungkook turn crimson and Namjoon smirks, placing his leg over the other. “Don’t worry – unlike you, I don’t judge people. To each our own. If shit like that turns you on, then that’s on you. Why don’t you take the opportunity to act on it?”

His eyes widen, shocked and disgusted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jungkook knows exactly what Namjoon is talking about, but he is completely aghast at the insinuation.

The de facto leader only widens his smirk, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter from the front pocket of his large, oversized coat. “You know what I’m talking about, Jeon. A pretty naked girl tied to a chair in your warehouse – it’s perfectly normal to feel aroused by such sight. We won’t judge you if you just get it over and done with.”

“You’re more than fucked up,” Jungkook hisses, face flushed and veins popping out on his neck. “I’m not going to fucking touch her.”

Namjoon lights the cigarette in between his lips. Then, he inhales, and smoke leaves his lips as he replies, “Why not? Y/N is a dirty slut who fucks her married professor with kids her age after church and dinner every Sunday night and more – I bet you all my cut that she’s not going to resist you because she’s probably into fucking someone having their own way with her. No, in fact, I can tell you she’s going to enjoy it.”  

Jungkook feels hot. Images of your naked trembling body and whimpering pleas filling his mind and ears.

“She has a blog, you know? A secret blog where she writes these fantasies and kinks she has. Posts her nudes on there too. Do you wanna know what is one fantasy she keeps on writing about?”

“No, I really don’t,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth.

“It’s a rape fantasy, Jungkook. What a fucking dirty slut she is, right? I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

He stands up in a jolt, hitting his knee on the makeshift table he made from old tires and steel roof and stammering some excuse that he needs to go the bathroom or air – he can’t remember. Jungkook finds himself in his room, back pressed against the door. His shirt sticks to his skin because of the sweat, and he takes it off, leaving it discarded on the floor. Namjoon’s words mixed with the flashing images of your perky nipples, smooth skin, sound of your whimpers, pleas, your smell – it makes him hard. Harder than he’s ever been.

Before he knows it, Jungkook is unbuttoning his jeans, pulling it down along with his boxers, his erection springing free. He spits on his palm before he begins stroking his length, shuddering at the touch, making his mouth dry. He presses the back of his head against the door, eyes closed as he imagines you on your knees – like you were with the professor – those lips around his shaft, head bobbing as you suck him dry. He imagines hearing your moans, imagines his dick hitting the back of your throat as you go deeper and beg him to fuck your mouth like a whore. Jungkook’s stroking himself faster. He imagines hearing you gag as he fucks your mouth, not stopping even when you’re clearly suffocating. Then, he cums, toes curling and a guttural groan escaping his lips.

As he comes back from his high, Jungkook stares at the white sticky substance covering his hand and cock. He just jerked off to you, a girl they kidnapped, and he knows it won’t be the last time.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi hisses at him the moment he comes back from his room, showered and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Jungkook deliberately ignores the stare of Namjoon and flops on the seat beside Hoseok who is eating the remaining ramen. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m going to punch this kid, I swear to God,” Yoongi grumbles, rolling his eyes. “We’re making the ransom call, you dumb fuck. Or rather, you are.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “What? Why me?”

“Every one of us here has already encountered Y/N’s father at least once. The man remembers everyone he encounters. You’re the only exception,” Namjoon explains as he hands you a black phone. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable. I took it from my dad. And this is what you’re going to say – make sure you sound intimidating at least. Put it on speaker too.”

Namjoon places his phone on the makeshift table and Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The deal was you only use my warehouse. So far, you got me doing far more than that.”

“Do you want 25 million or not?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cos if you do, you better start calling Kim Seokjin.”

I’m going to punch you soon, Jungkook tells himself before he unlocks the phone and goes to the contact list where Kim Seokjin’s name is the only one listed. He takes a deep breath, going over the script on Namjoon’s phone before clicking on the contact and putting the call on speaker. The ringing sound echoes throughout the warehouse. The tension is palpable again, like it was back in the car earlier that night.

After a few more rings, Kim Seokjin’s voice fills the warehouse. It’s light but a hint of roughness and irritation is noticeable right away.

“Who is this?”

Jungkook licks his lips as he read the script in front of him. “We have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 million won and bring it to 2020 this Friday night. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see her is on the news, dead.”

Hoseok covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing while Yoongi stares hard at the phone. Namjoon, on the other hand, is relaxed on his seat, smoking.

“You sound young, boy,” Seokjin remarks. “You are not the first person to call me in the middle of the night asking for ransom. Do you really have any idea what you’re doing?”

Namjoon motions for him to repeat what he just said.

“If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 mill—,”

“Don’t you think I would be able to find my daughter faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

That triggers Jungkook. He’s been hearing that question – that discrimination his entire life and he’s sick of it. He’s fucking sick of it.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Either you give us 100 million in exchange for your whore of a daughter or I will personally make you watch as we do everything we want with her, make you watch as she begs you to make it stop, make you listen as she takes her last breath before I fucking slit her throat so deep her head nearly decapitates. You have until Friday night – and you better make sure the police don’t get involved. Don’t fucking ask me who the fuck you are again.”

He ends the call, gripping the phone tightly.

“What the fuck was that? Why the hell didn’t you stick to the script?! Are you trying to get us all a one way ticket to prison?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Did you not hear what he’s saying? He caught on that we are fucking amateurs. I saved our asses – you should be fucking grateful,” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw. “If you didn’t want me to do the call, maybe the three of you should have done it yourselves. Fucking useless bastards.”

“Hey! What did you say?” Hoseok stands, pushing Jungkook by placing his hands on his chest. “Who are you calling useless, huh?”

“Who do you think?” He scoffs.

“Let’s fucking kill this son of a bitch, Hobi.”

“Gladly.”

“Enough,” Namjoon says sternly. “No one is going to kill anyone. Not amongst ourselves. What Jungkook did is right, Yoongi. Jungkook saved our asses. And you,” He turns to the long-haired man, glaring at him. “Mind your fucking tone and language with us. We’re not fucking useless. Remember that we recruited you. Not the other way around. If anyone should be grateful to someone, it’s you. We’re the reason you’ll get out of this shit hole.”

Nobody says a word.

“It’s getting late. Let’s gather here tomorrow after our classes. Just go about your usual days until the drop. Don’t be suspicious,” The de facto leader reminds. “Jungkook, keep an eye out, okay? Don’t forget to check in on our little friend from time to time. Make sure she’s still breathing.” He smirks as he pats his shoulder on his way out.

Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit. Once Jungkook hears Namjoon driving off his – rather his aunt’s – property, he resigns to the sofa behind him. He buries his face into his hands. Five days. You’ll be stuck with him at the warehouse for five fucking days. Granted, he has classes to attend to, so he won’t be at home all day, but he’s sure you won’t leave his mind wherever he goes.

The phone in his hand buzzes and he stares at the new notification on the screen – a text message from an unknown number. Jungkook unlocks the phone, goes to the messaging app, and clicks on the new text.

avirgins1ut on tumblr if you wanna read some things tonight

“Fuck you, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. However, when he goes to his room, grabs his shitty phone and opens his data – he installs the app despite knowing it will consume almost all the remaining gigabytes he has left.

Jungkook lies down on his bed and creates his profile. He doesn’t bother customizing it, going straight to your blog which is all black and hot pink. Instantly, he’s drawn to your profile picture – a simple mirror shot of you hiding your bare chest with your arms, head tilt slightly to the side and a black panty covering your cunt. He swallows the lump in his throat as he scrolls down, reading your pinned post:

“Hey. You can call me Angel. I’m 23 years old. This blog is filled with all my fantasies and kinks, sometimes my nudes. Feel free to send me yours too.

My kinks: cnc, free use, somnophilia, spit, slapping, marking, choking, daddy, and more.

My favorite fantasies: rape play, kidnapped, kept as sex slave, knife/gun play, forced gangbang, and more – why don’t you help me unlock those? DMs and asks open for all your threats and nudes.

Update: already got myself a master/daddy. Asks and messages are off.”

As he scrolls further down your blog, Jungkook doesn’t even realize he already has his hand wrapped around his dick as he masturbates to your the latest fantasy you wrote albeit months ago.

I can’t stop masturbating to this dark fantasy of mine – being raped by someone so brutally after they kidnap me. How they would keep me chained to the bed, always naked so they can easily rape me whenever and however they want. They would mock me whenever I would tell them to stop (“You shouldn’t have worn those skirts if you didn’t want to be raped. But you did. So, this isn’t rape. You were clearly asking for this like some depraved filthy bitch in heat. You’re fucking loving this, don’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”) and choke me as they pound into my wet and clenching pussy relentlessly. They would slap and spit on my face, abusing my cunt for hours until I’m full of theirs and their friends’ cum whom they called to let them have a taste of their new toy.

They would rape me day in and out until my body gets so used to it that I start asking for it – crying and begging to be fucked. “Shh, angel, daddy’s going to fuck you, okay? Don’t cry.” Slowly, I would forget all my autonomy and identity, wholly submitting myself to them because I was never my own in the first place – I was always theirs.

“Fuck, Y/N!” His entire body shakes as he cums again. Jungkook can’t stop – he wants to read more, see more as you posted a picture of your cum covered cunt at the end of the post and he imagines it’s his. But he gets a notification that he is out of data and Jungkook slams his phone on his bed, frustrated beyond bounds. He is still hard. He still wants to see more of you, read more of your fantasies.

Namjoon’s words echo in his mind. I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

And before he knows it – he is standing across from your limp body. You’re still unconscious – sack over your head, tied and bound on the metal chair. Jungkook walks towards you, gently touching your shoulders to see if you would react but you don’t. He bites his lower lip as his eyes fall on your naked chest. He reaches down to trace its curves before ultimately cupping one breast in hand, fondling, squeezing, twisting the nipple and pinching it. No response.

He begins to stroke himself as he continues to fondle your breasts. This is wrong, but why does it feel so good?

“F-Fucking slut, you’re asking for this,” Jungkook hisses through his teeth. He’s not going to last any longer – not when those perky nipples are so inviting and moments later, he cums all over tits. He’s panting, an exhilarating feeling he hasn’t felt before rising within him as he stares at your cum covered chest. He swallows, breathing heavily. Should he stop now or keep going? He doesn’t have data anymore, but he does have the real thing right in front of him. But you twitch and he jumps in surprise. Suddenly, the realization of his actions washes upon him. He feels a coil in his stomach. What has he done? He scrambles out of the room and dash straight to the bathroom where he extensively washes his hand and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he throws himself on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling as he pants. Namjoon is right – he’s just as fucked up as they are.

CHAPTER 3 is coming soon.

TAGLIST: Wanna be part of Dead Kids’ taglist? Fill out this form and don’t forget to read the short note in order for me to tag you.

ANDI: I do not condone the behaviors exhibited in this story. The characters of Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok do not reflect who they are in real life. Fanfiction is just fanfiction. I have no schedule in writing – I write whenever I can. Please try to refrain from sending asks about updates (or at least be kind and polite about it) and let me know your feedbacks instead as they help a lot in motivation and inspiration! 🦉

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCED, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Sneak peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, discussions of transness, everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 12.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Chapter 65 Sneak Peek: Lucky Gods

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes.

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path.

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of it is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting. You tremble but do not move to avoid him.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, a low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again, harder before you get a chance to speak, to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. “I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your neck, around the back near your scruff and gives it a small reassuring squeeze that only makes you feel like you're about to fall over. You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forhead against yours and closes his eyes. his spiky silver hair hitting your skin.

After a second he opens them again, nodding, and his scent looses its bitter edge. He steps closer, guiding you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat.

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around your shoulders, an anchor and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in tenderly. Because even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. the plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin’s on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you. You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery, every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm.

Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I’ll-“

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces."

Coming Saturday January 6th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

[agustsmuse]

Somebody Does Love | MYG

Pairing: BestFriend!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Idol au

Synopsis: You never wanted to burden Yoongi with your problems, he was healing and you weren’t even close but he was your best friend and he’d always turn up for you.

Warnings: Depression, self depreciation, implied self harm.

WC: 2.1k

Posted: 18 August 2023

It didn't take much for Yoongi to worry about you. He could tell something was wrong by something as simple as the way you worded a text or how you carried yourself on a particular day. In fact, he knew you better than you knew yourself. Habits, tastes, quirks. Some of which he'd tell you, others he kept to himself because he didn't want you to stop doing them, because he knew you'd stop if he did.

He knew you well enough that you'd stop all the things he loved most about you if he uttered a word about them, it was a habit of yours he hated. You never did it consciously, of course. It was like it was programmed into you that the second someone told you they loved a feature, you’d change it or one of your quirks, you'd stop doing it almost instantly.

And that list of things he loved was long. He'd probably have to write a book, but there were things he hated, one in particular.

You never wanted to bother him with your problems.

It drives him mad.

He's your best friend, Yoongi would remind you constantly. You're problems were his problems and vice versa. someone broke your heart? They broke his. Someone mistreated him? They mistreated you.

One thing always remained certain for both of you, no one would argue it. You'd take a bullet for each other in a heartbeat.

"You've been staring at the same screen for twenty minutes, hyung." Namjoon broke the silence of Yoongi's studio, interrupting the elder's thoughts.

"Sorry, You wanted something?" Yoongi asked nonchalantly as he swung his chair to face Namjoon, greeting him with a forced smile.

Namjoon held up a set of headphones he'd taken from one of the shelves in Yoongi's studio. "Mine broke, I knew you had a spare."

Yoongi rolled his eyes endearingly, a small breathly laugh slipped out.

"It wasn't my fault this time!" Namjoon protested his innocence.

For once, it actually wasn't the clumsy man-child’s fault.

"Ah yes, it's the little man that mysteriously comes in your studio and breaks all your stuff," Yoongi teased.

"Uhm, It was, actually." A blush rose on Namjoons cheeks, whether he wanted to admit it or profusely deny it, he could give a tomato a run for its money. "Jimin was in.. he.. sat on them."

"Suuure," he teased further, "I'm sure that’s what he, no, the two of you, were doing."

"Hyung!"

"Dongsaeng?" Yoongi hummed, giving Namjoon a knowing look.

"Back to the original point," Namjoon deflected. "Are you okay? You were miles away."

"I'm fine," Yoongi looked back at the lyrics on the screen, his expression changing instantly. "It's y/n."

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know" He rested back on his chair while running his hands through his long, fluffy hair. "I haven't heard from her in two days. I was meant to have dinner with her and got really into writing this song and I had an idea for the beat and went all in. She knows I get like that sometimes, and that's the reason when I don't reply."

"Sometimes." Namjoon rolled his eyes jokingly.

"I messaged her that I was sorry and we should have breakfast, no reply. I text about dinner an hour ago, and it's not even delivered."

"You're telling me this like you've never just welcomed yourself into her apartment a million and one times." Namjoon reminded him with a raised brow.

"I really have to fin.."

"GO!" Namjoon ordered his hyung. "Leader privileges," he defended quickly when he realised how abrupt he was while still pointing towards the studio door.

He didn't wait a second longer. Even leaving the studio in his slides, forgoing the Nike dunks by the door. Leaving Namjoon to save his work and sort all his equipment which he gladly did. He was worried about you too, more so because you meant so much to someone that meant equally as much to him. Thirteen years isn't easily forgotten, and you were there too.

He made it to your apartment twenty minutes later, letting himself in like it was his own home.

The sight he saw was enough to cause an ache, vice like grip on his heart.

Quickly making his way to be by your side.

With gentle calloused fingertips your best friend tilted your chin up, his smile was warm and inviting, but his eyes were filled with worry and sadness, even guilt for not noticing something was wrong sooner.

The pad of his thumb wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks, neither set of eyes straying from the others, you only briefly cut eye contact to blink away oncoming tears as they clouded your vision.

You weren’t there, not really. Yoongi knew better than to pressure you into talking, so he stayed silently knelt in front of you for a moment, his large hands engulfing your little ones before bringing them towards his lips for a quick peck before he took a seat beside you. He took you into his arms and kept you close until you stopped crying, not a care for the time that went by or the fact that his phone kept going off. It wasn't important, not right now.

“You're gonna be okay,” He talked softly, quiet as a mouse like he was afraid to startle you.

He repeated himself over and over, followed by 'i love you', 'you're safe with me" and every other sweet thing he’d ever told you. Your cries eventually turned into quiet hiccups to unsteady breaths and eventually a quiet calm, the room filled with nothing but your breaths and the noises from the street outside.

You stayed like that, in the comfort of his arms, in silence. An hour went by, maybe more.

He looked down at you, almost falling asleep from exhaustion, your entire face red and puffy from so much crying. All the overwhelming feelings all on your own, so intensely burst like a dam. He wasn't leaving your side, music would have to wait. For as long as you needed him, he was going to be there.

"Don't sleep, jagiya. Let me make you something to eat, alright? We'll get you cleaned up and in some fresh clothes. You can sleep after that."

You shook your head.

"Yes," Yoongi told you sternly, not too harsh, but he wasn't going to let you keep doing this to yourself, not on his watch. "I will chew it for you and spit it in your mouth like a mother bird, if i have too."

You scrunched up your face in disgust, causing Yoongi to chuckle softly.

"That's what I thought."

You didn't protest when Yoongi ushered you into your room, you didn't want to hurt him. He was getting you in the bath regardless. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked before, definitely not under the same circumstances, but it didn't faze him then, and it won't faze him now.

He went into the bathroom and starting filling the bath, picking your favourite bathbomb and dropping it into the bath, smiling to himself as it turned purple and a light lavender scent began to fill the air. He grabbed some towels and put them in the dryer to warm up for you before coming to help you out of your clothes.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Always," you replied in a coarse whisper.

He was careful, gentlemanly, checking your face for any sign you were uncomfortable. You were okay until he went to help you out of your tracksuit bottoms, he watches your hands clutch tighter to the bedsheet and the faint hitch in your breath.

"I'm sorry," you tell him before nodding in permission for him to take them off.

He took one look at your thighs before looking up at you, leaning up to press a light kiss on your forehead. "Don't ever apologise for how you feel, I just wish you'd told me it was getting this bad again."

He wrapped his arm around your body, helping you toward the bathroom and helped you step into the bath. He relaxed a little when he heard you hum as you lowered into the water.

"Is it hot enough?” he asked, watching for any discomfort.

“S’good.” you hum, tracing over the bubbles with the tips of your fingers. Yoongi watched on with a little smile before he sat himself on the edge of the bath, reaching for your favourite body wash and a soft sponge, opting for the soft option rather than a loofah.

He squeezed a drop of soap onto the sponge and scrunched it together in his hands until it was covered in vanilla scented suds.

“Tell me to stop if you want me too,” he told you, leaning forward to get a look at you when you didn't reply. You nod for him to go on, even though you were miles away. He could tell by your eyes, he decided to just get on with it. He moved gently around your back, air in the bathroom filled with it's vanilla scent, mixing with the lavender. It was even making him sleepy. He watched you close your eyes beginning to relax as he continued on.

Once he had you covered in bubbles he rinsed you off with a cup he had sitting near by in the water and began washing the bubbles off. He saw your back rise and fall with a deep breath, a yawn he came to realise. He glanced at your face and your eyes in a fight to stay open as you moved your hands up to your face slowly and rubbed at your eyes for a moment before dropping your hands back into the water. Yoongi smiled. You looked adorable, if he was honest.

He was equally as gentle when washing your hair, missing some of your routine but the goal was to get your freshened up and comfortable, not Miss Universe.

“You can lay back now if you want.” Yoongi offered, you sighed and slumped in the tub, body sinking into the bubbles.

"Why do you do this for me? You're always there." You finally spoke more than one word.

"Because even if everything else was to disappear, I know you'll always be there."

"What if I'm not strong enough?"

"You are," he told you, leaning down to kiss your forehead again before he left for the kitchen to make you a quick snack, knowings it’s probably all you could stomach or be bothered to eat.

Crackers and a makeshift topping would have to do because it was all you had.

He brought everything you two would need for the night including the hot towels from the dryer to the bedroom before Yoongi helped you out of the bath, taking you into the bedroom wrapped up in the toasty towel to get you dried off and into some PJs.

“Which Pyjamas do you want?”

You pointed to him with a sweet, innocent smile.

“My top?” he chuckled. “Really?”

“Please?” and like clockwork you put on your best puppy dog eyes. Jungkook taught you well because Yoongi could never say no.

He rolled his eyes playfully and took off his shirt, pulling it over your head for you and smiled contently when he took a look at you. “You’re so adorable,” he smiled up at you before instructing you to sit between his legs with the hairbrush he had in hand.

You sat in front of him, lightly snacking away on the food he gave you when you sat down while he brushed through your hair, effortlessly putting it into two french braids. He’d watched you do it enough times and he was a quick learner, especially if it was taking up his cuddling time with you.

When you finished eating, Yoongi went to tidy up while you got yourself into bed. Half asleep when he came to join you, he switched off the light and climbed into bed with you.

Instantly cuddling into him with your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you began to drift off to sleep.

“Can I play you a song I’ve been working on?” he asked, cuddling you in close.

Yoongi presses play on his phone as you nod.

Somebody does love but I'm thinking ‘bout you.

He watched as you drift off to sleep, running his hands through your hair, softly singing along until his eyes fell heavy and he drifted off too.

Maybe one day he’d tell you the song is for you.

Authors Note: A huge thank you to @sopebubbles /@sopebubbles-replies for encouraging me to write this fic and proof reading, it's been a long time coming for her, you have no idea! also my bestie @lifeinakpopbubble who never thought she'd see this day.

[jiminrings]

welcome to jiminrings (again)!! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

ask • masterlist • patreon • previous navi

latest fic: if-then

exclusively at patreon (running count: 200+):

arranged from newest to oldest!

🌟 patreon citizen favorite!

a part of my c*ntroversial fic series!

additional: how to become a free member!

🌟 trophy series (wherein f1 racer jimin thanks his famous ex-girlfriend for always believing in him in his victory speech)

michelin: the food poisoning drabble series (wherein jin's ex eats at your restaurant and gets food poisoning, and the thinks you did it on purpose)

🌟 learning curve (wherein you’re pregnant and emergency doctor yoongi, who’s always tired from his shifts, has a little meltdown (you just want to take a walk!!!)

🌟 loved next door series (wherein namjoon's your building's resident sweetheart, and inconveniently, your soulmate who thinks emotional cheating is Not Real)

thick and blunt series (wherein pornstar taehyung likes pissing you off, his fluffer, as a kink — except he goes too far and actually hurts your feelings)

🌟 text AUs (matilda jungkook, mature jungkook, (un)like the movies aka ex-husband n baby daddy yoongi, fine print yoongi, take five yoongi, michelin jin, was it casual? jin, nine to five jimin, playing house jin...)

one and a half (wherein overly independent boyfriend namjoon doesn’t share his burdens with you, but instead with his overly attached secretary)

monopoly (wherein jungkook, your best friend’s brother, keeps snitching on you and your dates ever since you stopped confessing your feelings for him)

🌟 middle ground series (wherein both you and your ex-boyfriend jungkook are broke and stuck with the lease, so his solution is to invite his current girlfriend to live with the both of you)

🌟 stationary (wherein single dad jin doesn't want to marry you, even if his daughter loves you)

🌟 (un)like the movies series (wherein jimin's your boyfriend who lacks fatherly instincts to your daughter, and he gets to meet your ex-husband yoongi, right after your big fight with him)

refer to the 100+ more bullet points that made my first navi post full and prompted me to make a new one :-)

this month's schedule for patreon citizens! :D

[borahaerhy]

Dealer (10) - myg

Summary: Your boyfriend seemed like a dream come true: always wanting to be around you, making sure you would get home safe, never taking his hands off you. These little comforts became your whole world, and then the only thing you were allowed to have left in the world. Luckily, your boyfriends drug dealer turned out to be a much nicer guy.

Pairing: DrugDealer!Yoongi x Female!Reader

Genre: Mafia/drug kingpin au, Y/N coming from nothing, found family, Eventual smut

Warnings: So much action omg, multiple people get shot, chase scene, Namjoon's a doctor?, lots of blood, Jungkook makes a joke, Namjoon performs (minor) surgery, mention of Y/n taking shooting lessons when she was younger, Y/n and Yoongi being soft, someone's missing a chunk of their ear but I'm not telling who, Someone's name is just the letter 'L' (death note theme intensifies), descriptions of Y/n previous relationship

Word count: 2.6k

Previous | Next

Note: If you are sensitive or triggered by abusive relationships or manipulation in any way, please do not read this fic, it can be very triggering. It will also be referenced that Y/n used to self-harm, and has self-harm scars. This fic is going to cover a lot of intense topics, and there will be a lot of drugs.

Yoongi was on you in a matter of seconds, checking to see if you were hurt as they started driving away. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

“I’m fine, Yoongi, Namjoon stepped in before anything bad happened,” You spoke softly as you reassured him, his face and body visibly relaxing as you spoke. 

“We’ve got a tail,” Jungkook spoke softly as he reached up and pressed a button on the overhead console, opening up the sunroof. He reached down beside the seat he was in a picked up the AR-15, before he stood up on the seat and stood out of the roof, and started firing at the car behind you as Namjoon started moving faster, dodging between cars and taking sharp turns down alleys. 

It didn’t take long before there were multiple cars following you. Yoongi cursed under his breath as he noticed all of them piling up and narrowing in before he pulled out his handgun and leaned out of his window, firing bullets haphazardly at the moving targets behind him. 

They were shooting back, bullets raining from people hanging out of every window of every car. “Someone give me a gun,” 

“What!?” Yoongi yelled, looking back at you before returning his attention outside, having to pull himself back in the car to dodge an oncoming bullet. Yoongi was about to protest again when Namjoon pulled the gun from Jungkook's side holster and handed it back to you. 

You pressed the magazine release to check and see if it was fully loaded. It’s a Glock 43, 6 rounds. You pushed the magazine back in and rolled down your window, swiftly moving most of the top half of your body out. You steadied yourself, aimed at the front driver’s side tire at the car directly behind you, and pulled the trigger. 

Hit

The car swerved off to the side and into oncoming traffic. The car behind them moved up quickly. Aim, hit. Two more cars move up, side by side. Car one, aim, hit. Car two, you moved to aim, squaring up the shot perfectly when a bullet came whizzing toward you, and you had to duck back into the car. Miss. 

“Why the fuck hasn’t she had a gun this whole time?” Jungkook yelled from above the car as Namjoon took another risky turn, nearly throwing Yoongi out of the car. You reached your hand up to your ear, your hand covered in blood when you pull it back down to look at it. Shit. 

The shattering of the back window made you duck down behind the seat. Jungkook groaned slightly, falling slightly before he repositioned himself; the bullet that broke through the window must’ve hit his leg. 

You positioned yourself behind the headrest of the seat, now having better cover as you aimed again, only two cars left, and two bullets left in your gun. 

“Y/n, you’re bleeding-” 

“Yeah and I need to focus,” you adjusted your aim and hit, the car swerving sideways, taking the car behind it with it as it rolled out of control. You turned around, ducking back behind the seat and Namjoon turned down an alley. Jungkook’s leg was bleeding badly, blood soaking his dark jeans and running down the armrest it was resting on. 

He almost fell back into the car and into his seat, as you took his gun from him and put it in the trunk, not really knowing where else it could go so that you wouldn’t be afraid of it going off. “Y/n, Jesus, you’re covered in blood,” Yoongi looked terrified as his hands gently moved to cup your cheeks, looking all around to see where it was coming from 

“It’s just my ear, they bleed a lot; Jungkook’s in much worse shape than I am,” You said as you pulled out of his grasp, moving forward to see if there was anything you could do to help him while still in the car. 

“We’re not far, he’ll be fine,” Namjoon rushed through his words, taking occasional glances at Jungkook while trying to navigate the grid-locked town that you were in. 

Less than a minute later, you pulled into a seemingly deserted parking lot right next to an old factory of sorts; not unlike the one Yoongi took you the day you met. You all rushed out of the car to help Jungkook; Namjoon and Yoongi carried him as you opened the unlocked door Namjoon instructed you to get for them. You all rushed in from one side of the building as Jin and the others rushed in from the other, a large group of men you could only assume to be some of his men right behind them. 

“L, go take care of the car, everyone else, secure the perimeter. What happened?” Jin yelled out orders, his men dispersing as he helped Yoongi and Namjoon get Jungkook onto a table. 

“Jungkook got hit, I need to get the bullet out,” Namjoon spoke clearly as he tore open Jungkook’s pant leg, getting better access to the wound as Jin started turning on some large lights that were already set up around the table. 

“Shit, Y/n, are you okay?” Jimin rushed over to you, Hoseok and Taehyung following right behind him. 

“It’s her ear, she wouldn’t let me look at it-” 

“Because it’s fine,” you spoke as Jimin pushed your hair to the side to get a better look. You could tell by the look on everyone's faces that it didn’t look great, but it wasn’t something you were too worried about as you looked over at Namjoon, who had forceps in Jungkook’s leg. 

Jungkook groaned loudly, almost yelling as you rushed over to him, grabbing his hand and helping hold him down as he squeezed onto you, pain coursing through him. Jin was holding his leg down next to you as Namjoon stayed focused on getting the bullet out, everyone else slowly moving around you to watch as he pulled the bullet out, which thankfully hadn’t fragmented. 

“Bullet’s out, checking for any bits of glass,” Namjoon spoke coolly as he picked up a pair of glasses with surgical loupes attached to them, and went back to Jungkook’s injury. Jungkook’s grip had relaxed significantly as he looked up at you, brow furrowed tightly as you could tell he was trying to hold back from gripping onto you any harder. 

“You sure my leg’s worse than your face?” Jungkook joked as he noticed the blood that was not only covering half of your face and neck, but had completely soaked through a rather large portion of your shirt. Namjoon looked up for only a second before he moved back to Jungkook’s leg. 

“She’ll be fine, it’ll only take me a few minutes,” Jin looked over at you in unison with Namjoon, shock covering his features, as he hadn’t noticed you yet. 

“Yoongi, you mind taking over for me?” Yoongi quickly moved over to Jin’s spot, holding Jungkook’s leg down as he had been before Jin’s hand met your shoulder. “Let’s clean you up a bit,” You looked down at Jungkook, who gave a single nod before you left him, Jin pulling you back towards a bathroom. 

“Here,” he spoke calmly as he handed you a paper towel he’d just wet from the sink before he started wetting another one. You started wiping your face as you moved in front of a mirror, where you gasped at the sight of yourself. 

“I thought everyone was being dramatic,” you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself as you started wiping the blood from your cheek and neck. Jin smiled with you as he wrung out his paper towel, waiting for you to need a replacement.

“That happens sometimes, it’s just shock: it stops you from feeling the pain as it’s happening,” 

“Y/n,” You turned around, Hoseok standing at the door. “Namjoon said he can look at you now, he’s just finishing stitching up Jungkook,” You nodded and followed him out of the room after throwing away your paper towel. 

“There’s our hero,” Namjoon smirked as he looked up at you, still finishing up Jungkook. “Just sit down over there, I’ll be over in just a second.” 

“Hero?” Jin questioned, suddenly a lot more interested in what happened on the mission than he was previously. 

“Yeah, you should’ve seen her,” Namjoon spoke proudly as he made his way over to where you were seated, moving one of the lights with him before he propped it up on your right side and pulled up a chair to sit next to you. “She shot everyone's tires, only reason we got out of there alive,” 

“You can shoot?” Jin looked almost taken back, a sly smirk still twitching on his lips. “Why didn’t you say anything, we could’ve been using you,” You shrugged. 

“No one asked,” 

-

Namjoon finished cleaning up your ear before wrapping it in gauze, and you all piled into Taehyung’s van and went back to the safe house. After getting Jungkook settled into a room, Yoongi insisted on staying in your room with you, not wanting to give anyone the chance to get back at you again. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Yoongi spoke carefully, as though he’d gone over the words he was saying over and over again before speaking them aloud. You turned to look at him, standing by the doorway as you stood next to the bed. “You know, for saving our asses,” You smiled as you looked down at the bed you were about to climb into. 

“I figured I owed you one,” You crossed your arms over your chest as you walked up to him, stopping a few feet from where he was standing. He smiled lightly, nodding his head as he avoided your eyes. 

“Where did you learn to do that, anyway?” He asked, straightening himself out to match your stance, his arms crossing. You shrugged as you let your arms fall. 

“My uncle used to take me shooting when I was a kid. Said no boys would ever want to fuck with a woman that could shoot them in the dick from fifty yards away,” You chuckled as you remembered the day he said those words; you’d hit your first target from fifty yards, and he was so proud of you. He’d picked you up and spun you around before making you do it again so he could get it on video. 

Yoongi’s expression fell slightly; he wished your uncle had been right. “Guess it’s kind of fucked up now, given the situation we’re in,” yiu spoke softly, still smiling softly. Yoongi shook his head and took a few small steps toward you. 

“No, I don’t think so,” His eyes moved to the side, staring into space as he thought for a moment. “Well, maybe a little bit, but if anything I think the fact that you have the capability to do that kind of damage and still choose not to is incredible,” 

You felt your face begin to heat up as he carefully studied your features. Every new thing Yoongi learned about you made you so much more endearing to him. All the pain you’d gone through and the struggles that set you back; yet you were still positive despite everything. And even now, after everything, you were still positive. You always found a reason to be happy, a reason to crack a joke and try to lift everyone else’s spirits, regardless of the pain you were in. 

You quite literally got shot in the head earlier today and still made sure Jungkook was okay before you even began to worry about yourself. You saw everyone struggling to keep you safe and in less than six bullets saved them all. Everything about you seemed to make him want to know more, to see more of who you really are. 

“I don’t know if incredible is the right word; I mean you have the same ability that I do, I don’t see you killing people that aren’t threatening you,” The heat in your face only got warmer as you looked anywhere but Yoongi’s face. He couldn’t help but smile lightly as you spoke. How could you still be so adorable to him now, after everything? 

“I also haven’t gone through what you have. And people generally don’t threaten me because of the people I’m affiliated with. That, and I’m not near as good with a gun as you are. I stopped paying attention for half a second and nearly got shot,” You smiled, finally bringing your gaze back to meet his. 

“Well I actually did get shot,” You joked, blushing like an idiot. Yoongi spoke to you differently than what you were used to. Even with Zeke, who was overly complimentary and always finding a new way to make you feel special or important, he never made you feel like this. 

He would fuck up and then smother you with affection. Flowers, chocolates, dinner out at an actual restaurant while he showered you with praise. He’d always tell you how pretty you looked and how he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have you. 

And even though the rest of the guys didn’t mean to, they all looked at you with a certain level of pity. They all meant well, but it was impossible to avoid. 

But with Yoongi, it was different. 

It was all in the small details. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, how much he wanted you to be safe, even if he wasn’t the one keeping you safe. When he touched you he was gentle, always watching your reaction to anything he did to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable; kept his emotions in check so he didn’t scare you. 

Nothing he did was to benefit him. He didn’t like you for his own selfish wants; he liked you because of the person you were. 

“How is that, by the way?” His hand came up and gently brushed your hair back so he could see your ear, still bandaged up the same as the last time he saw it. You flinched away slightly, the side of your head still thumping. He stilled for a moment before he let your hair move back down and moved his hand to cup your cheek. 

“Not bad, I suppose. Mostly just worried about how the chunk missing from my ear is going to look,” Yoongi shrugged, looking over at the small strip of tape peeking out from behind your hair. 

“Pretty badass, if I had to guess. Especially when you tell the story of how you got it,” You scoffed, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “Something so small doesn’t really matter. We’re all safe and happy; the way a little bullet wound looks isn’t something you need to worry about. Not now, anyways,” His voice was low and rough as he spoke as the two of you got gradually closer together, almost as if an invisible magnet was pulling you into him unconsciously. 

He closed his eyes as your foreheads met, his thumb rubbing your cheek gently as he sighed, almost sounding relieved. You just stood like that for a moment, your hands clutched onto his shirt, one of his hands on your cheek and the other resting in his pocket as you leaned into one another. 

Yoongi had a way of making you feel safe even in these vulnerable moments. There were no expectations, no requirements for his affection. He held you because he wanted to, because it felt good to be near you, not because he wanted something out of it. 

So there you stood, completely safe in one another's presence.

Taglist: @pamzn @fvcuidk @cybm1n @limiworld @scuzmunkie @hyunjingin @nellyboosworld @giselleg7784 @zaeve @lovelgirl22 @rosquilleta @kooliv @bangtannie7 @strawberryjimin13 @anjoellamorte @limitlessdespondency @lalaoise @roxy1205 @lavender-ivy @orangecarrotlemon @billy-jeans23  @jwlmnbt @artemis1862 @luaspersona @wittyreader @be0mluver  @acquiescence804 @dustyinkpages @namjoonsbuspass @damiiworld @cynicalbitch666 @rosiejunnie @dahliasbouqet @bxcndd @neverthefirstchoice @kisuga @idkjustlovingbts @xyahrinx @jksteponme @hobicakess @lifestragedy @kpop-khh-writer-trash

[gamerwoo]

[SKZ Imprinted] Stray Kids: Dungeons & DragonsWerewolves (Spin-Off)

Characters: ot8 skz x ocs

Genre/warnings: college au, werewolf au (sort of), humor, minor angst. lots of d&d happening (coming from someone who knows very little about d&d), possible major character death in the beginning and the end but not really, a twist on dream theory

Word count: 2,976

Summary: What if it was all just one elaborate D&D campaign?

a/n: this wasn't requested i just thought this might be fun hehe

SKZ Imprinted Masterlist

This was it. This was the moment the entire pack had been waiting for.

Jungkook was back.

The only problem was it wasn't on the terms they'd hoped. They wanted Namjoon to track him down. They wanted the hunters to bring him to them under safe circumstances so they could be sure everyone on their side would be safe.

Instead, it was chaos.

Ryujin was held tightly in front of him, one of his strong arms wrapped around her to keep her there. In his other hand was a gun, the barrel pressed to her temple. Jungkook's wild eyes scanned the small crowd in front of him.

"Don't move," he threatened through clenched teeth, his jaw impossibly tight, "or I'll shoot."

But how could Minho not move? Of course he was going to do anything to save his mate, even if it meant putting his own life in danger.

He lunged forward, betting on his reflexes being faster than Jungkook's. The hunter moved his arm that held the gun to his sister's head and--

Bam!

The room froze, all eyes going from Ryujin to Minho as time seemed to slow. Chan's jaw dropped as he watched his brother fall to his knees in front of Jungkook. He saw the bullet come out from the back of Minho's head--

"No fuckin' way!"

Aeri slowly lifted her gaze from the two large books she propped up around her like a child in school taking an exam and trying to hide their test behind folders and binders. Spread out in front of her were more papers. But instead of her eyes being wide as she read off of the papers she had written and spent hours planning, she was now glaring at the cause of the interruption.

"Minho died?!" Hyunjin gasped, looking at the dungeon master with wide brown eyes.

"Well dumbass over here wanted to just lunge at Jungkook like a psychopath!" she stated, gesturing across the long table to the psychopath in question.

Minho still looked displeased, continuing his earlier outburst, "There's absolutely no shot I die there."

"There was actually a shot," Seungmin stated, "and you did die to it."

Minho continued to glare at Aeri as he grabbed his d20 without looking, while she scanned over her paperwork to make sure she was correct -- even though she knew she was. She had copies of all of their character sheets and had been keeping careful track of all of their stats. Minho definitely hit 0.

She looked up and nodded once, stating, "Roll."

It was her idea to start this D&D campaign. She actually came up with all of the characters and their backgrounds. She also decided to modify it to make it at least a little more realistic.

Originally, the eight boys were supposed to be part of a gang with all of them having different roles. But her boyfriend begged to be a werewolf, and then Seungmin decided he needed to be one, and it snowballed into all eight men banning together to create their werewolf pack.

Chan was their fearless alpha, which gave him an extra strength point just for that. Aeri assigned Minho as a Rogue, taking some inspiration from his slyness in real life. Changbin was a Rogue Barbarian, using a mix of stealth and brute force to take down any foes in his path. The others in the pack were simply 'Scholars', a class Aeri invented for this "realistic" campaign -- though, Hyunjin's character had a mysterious past that nobody knew details about, and they had yet to discover anything else about his possible class or alignment.

Overall, the girlfriends of the group were simple Human Scholars with their different alignments. The only exceptions were Jamie, and the sisters. Jamie's class and alignment were both unknown, though her character was a mostly non-verbal person with a lot of her thoughts, emotions, and past kept a mystery.

The youngest of the Jeon sisters was classified as a Fighter, while Elsie was a Werewolf Hunter -- another class Aeri invented, but said it was a sub-class of Fighter.

And their brother was made one of the villains, and was the current main villain. All because Aeri was upset he wouldn't join their campaign.

Minho's die hit the table. 14.

"One win," he smirked.

"Two more to go," Aeri reminded him.

"Wasn't there a rule last time about not going with Minho's first answer and letting the group decide?" Ankita recalled while the rolls for combat continued.

"Yeah, but it wasn't as fun," Aeri sighed. "I made an executive decision as DM to undo the rule."

"Honestly," Jamie spoke up, holding a steaming mug of tea between both hands, "it's his own fault for getting shot."

"It's Aeri's fault for rolling a 19!" Minho shouted, making Mari jump during her turn to roll, prematurely dropping the die on the table.

"Okay, okay," Chan stepped in to calm the group before they decided to gang up on his girlfriend, "let's remember this isn't the first time someone got shot -- and Elsie lived."

"Barely," she stated. "I literally met God, like, 3 times."

The bad thing about having a DM who only just recently got into D&D and only knew the bare minimum -- if that -- was that Aeri tended to just make things up as she went. She wasn't always sure when to roll Perception or Initiative or when to roll for one's literal life. So sometimes she just...made things up.

The good thing about having a DM like Aeri, though, was that things were always interesting. Sometimes she would throw things in as she went, even if they weren't pre-planned. Having her ex-boyfriend, Taehyung be the original bad guy along with her mutual friends with him was something she had planned all along, but she decided to really focus on Jungkook out of nowhere when he refused to join the campaign when she offered that one time he came over for the Halloween party. She had always planned for Elsie to be a Fighter, but decided last minute to add on Werewolf Hunter when her and Seungmin went on The World's Shortest Break just to tease them. She made the decision while they were actively rolling for their Abilities to lower Minho, Hyunjin, and Jisung's Intelligence and Wisdom scores despite what they had rolled because she just couldn't have them being smart in any universe.

The die hit the table again. 1.

Aeri smirked at Minho, "Two losses. Good luck, champ."

"Two?!" Minho exclaimed angrily. "But I--"

"If you roll less than 10, it's one loss. If you roll a 1, it counts for two," Seungmin explained before rolling his eyes. "Don't you pay attention to the rules?"

"Not when Chan's girlfriend makes up half of them!" he shouted, gesturing toward the DM at the head of the table.

All she did was stare back at Minho, glance around the table, and shrug.

"Some of us died several times and aren't complaining," Elsie reminded him.

"Babe, can you just roll?" Ryu whined softly. "This is supposed to be fun."

"It's fun when I'm not about to die!" he exclaimed again before tossing the die across the table, landing on Hyunjin's character sheets.

The younger boy looked down in front of him before looking up at Minho to tell him, "19."

Minho tossed his head back and loudly groaned before shouting, "Motherfucker!"

The rest of the table, however, was having a fantastic time watching Minho struggle. He was so close to an instant win, and they couldn't help but laugh at his failure.

"If you die, you can always have Yoongi bring you back to life," Minseo shrugged. "I don't see the problem."

"That was only because Yoongi showed up for one game night and he wanted to do something cool," Aeri stated. "If he's not here, he can't help you."

"That's a stupid rule and you know it," Minho huffed, rolling his eyes until they glared at Aeri.

"Not stupid. Intentionally mean," Hyunjin corrected.

Aeri just grinned, "If it wasn't so funny seeing Minho get this mad at a game, maybe the rules would be different."

"Monopoly may end friendships but DnD completely burns all bridges of friendship," Ankita said quietly as she stared down at the table, too afraid to look up in case she caught Minho's intense stare.

Minho blew on the die, mumbling, "C'mon, c'mon..."

Finally, with a deep breath that was slowly let out, Minho tossed the die onto the table. Everyone leaned over to see what the outcome was, some standing up from their seats to see. And...

Ryu cried out Minho's name, one hand reaching out for him as she squirmed to get away, but Jungkook just tightened his grip. Some of the pack stayed frozen, trying to process what had happened as Minho blood pooled on the floor around where he lay seemingly lifeless. Others fell to their knees, sobs wracking their bodies.

Chan was one of the few that hadn't yet processed what exactly had happened as he stared at Minho's body. But as he stared, he realized...he was still breathing. Was it possible that maybe, somehow, Jungkook hadn't used a silver bullet? Maybe he didn't have access to that after running away? Maybe there was a chance for Minho to live.

But they would have to act quickly.

"I try to distract Jungkook to get his attention off of Minho and avoid a finishing blow, and so Changbin can sneak around and attack," Chan stated for his turn.

Aeri nodded for him to roll the dice.

Slowly, the alpha put up his hands in surrender. Jungkook's gaze and gun immediately pointed to him, but Chan didn't even flinch.

"It doesn't have to end like this," he said slowly and calmly as he tentatively took a small step forward, testing the waters. Jungkok was shaking and had clearly lost all rational thought, but this was still a risk Chan was willing to take for his brother. "You don't want to hurt Ryujin -- I know you don't. You care about her. You just want your family back and for things to go back to normal. Trust me, I understand that. But...this isn't how you should go about it."

Changbin tried to pull himself together, sniffling as he wiped stray tears from his cheeks. His reddened eyes stay trained on Jungkook as he slowly and cautiously took a step to the side. He just wanted to get out of the rogue hunter's line of sight. But currently, Jungkook seemed to have tunnel-visioned onto Chan.

"You still have a chance to stop yourself from hurting her and making it worse," Chan assured Jungkook. His eyes were sincere, even if they were still blood red. "If you walk away now and let Minho go--"

"This isn't realistic literally at all," Elsie was the one to interrupt this time with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

Aeri froze, eyes wide in annoyance and staring at her sheet. She slowly moved her gaze to the older girl toward the other end of the table, "What now?"

"You really think Kookie wouldn't notice that absolute unit side-stepping away?" she snorted.

Jisung sighed, "Fine, I'll roll for distract--"

"No," Seungmin stated. "Every time you roll for speed when you're driving in serious situations, you end up going, like, 5 under."

"Fine, then you do it," Jisung told him in a sassy, high-pitched voice.

"For Minho? No."

"Your character would, though," Hyunjin reminded him.

Seungmin let out the loudest and most drawn-out groan before picking up his die and rolling it in his hand. He threw it on the table and immediately was beaming.

"15!"

However, his smile fell when he saw the way Aeri was looking at him, "What?"

Seungmin took a step forward to start running and immediately shifted, roaring at Jungkook as he lunged toward him. Jungkook's arm moved at lightening speed, and all Chan could do was cry out, "No!"

Jungkook shot Seungmin in the chest, but the distraction was still enough for Changbin to sneak up on the hunter and wrap one arm around his neck before forcing the gun out of his grasp with his other hand. Chan rushed to Ryu's aid to get her away from her brother before handing her off to Felix, who escorted the girl out of the room while she was kicking and screaming for Minho.

"How do I get shot?!" Seungmin demanded.

"Shut it, you're still alive. It wasn't a vital shot. Get a higher number next time," she said dismissively before going back to the story.

Jisung and Jeongin rushed to help Changbin subdue Jungkook, while Hyunjin went to the alpha's side as he examined the hurt wolves. Chan had rolled Minho onto his back and saw his chest was still rising and falling, even if it was shallow. He knew a bullet that wasn't made out of silver wouldn't kill him, but it could still wound him pretty badly. For all he knew, he could have permanent brain damage. And Seungmin could face something similar.

"We need to get them out of here," Chan breathed, trying to stay calm. "We need to get them to Josh and Aya."

"How are they still alive?" Hyunjin questioned. "It shouldn't be possible, right?"

Chan had his suspicion the bullet wasn't silver, but he had to make sure. His eyes scanned the floor until he found the bullet from Minho. Without even thinking about it, he reached for it, hissing in pain as it immediately sizzled against his skin.

His eyes widened.

"Roll to kill Jungkook!" Changbin shouted out of turn.

Aeri immediately turned to him, "Can you wait your turn? It's technically Jeongin's anyway."

"Roll to kill Jungkook!" Jeongin cheered with a wide grin.

"Don't you have the lowest stats?" Jisung asked.

"No, I'm way smarter than you are."

"Are you sure?" Aeri asked, her tone serious as she looked across the table at the youngest. "If you don't roll high enough, it could end badly for you."

"What, another fake shot?" Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"No."

All eyes went to Aeri. This was very crucial information to the campaign. She was warning them that this time, there would be a very real death for Jeongin's character. There would be no going back.

"I don't want to spoil anything, but...I know this run means a lot to you guys so far. So...just a warning," she told him with a shrug. "Are you sure?"

The group looked around between each other. The girls didn't really have much to do with the current predicament, so it was something the boys had to work out. But ultimately, they decided it was Jeongin's decision. Did he think he would be lucky enough to roll a number high enough to actually get rid of the biggest villain thus far in the campaign?

Jeongin stared at his d20. Did he think he could do it? Did he even want to risk it? But if he pulled it off, it would be so cool. And it would be such a big accomplishment within the campaign. They could move onto something new or even expand Ryu and Elsie's lore with this. Overall, the opportunities for Jeongin pulling this off would be great for the group.

But if he failed...

Jeongin lifted his hand, pausing like he was second-guessing if he should pick up the die. But then his hand moved forward again.

"You're killing me off?"

The majority of the group at the table jumped. Hyunjin even let out a gasp and almost fell into Mari's lap as he put a hand to his chest.

"What are you doing here?" Ryu whined, looking at her twin brother that had just walked into Jeongin's parents' dining room.

"Didn't you tell me to pick you guys up at 9?" Jungkook asked, checking his phone again to make sure he had the time right.

Jisung's eyes widened, "It's already 9?!"

"It's passed my bedtime..." Ankita mumbled.

"Oh, shit," Chan chuckled as he also checked the time on his phone. "Didn't realize it was already ending time."

"But it was just getting good!" Minseo whined.

"And I'm on death's door with chucklehead over there," Minho scowled, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to Seungmin. "We can't just leave it like this!"

"If you guys are killing me, shouldn't I fight for myself?" Jungkook asked.

Aeri scoffed, "No! You didn't want to join the campaign to begin with!"

"Yeah, but now my life is on the line," he countered. "Can't I join in at least for the boss battle?"

"We don't even know if Jeongin is gonna go for it," Jamie said.

"And we apparently won't know until next week," Aeri sighed as she slapped one of her books closed.

"Well," Jungkook began as everyone started collecting their belongings and standing up from their chairs to leave, "maybe I'll hang around next week to see what happens."

Aeri eyed the boy up and down, eyes narrowed. She had wanted him to join... Maybe letting him play his own boss battle -- if it happened -- would be interesting. Even if Jeongin didn't go through with it, just watching the group play might convince Jungkook to join.

She grabbed Jungkook's character sheets, and the notes from the campaign so far from her folder and slapped them into his chest, "Study up, buddy."

"Alright, dingdong," Elsie walked up behind her younger brother and reached up to mess up his hair, "let's roll."

Jungkook shot her a dirty look, "Can you not?"

"Bye, guys!" Ryujin called as she put a hand on her brother's back to guide him out behind Elsie.

"Can't believe we're leaving it on a cliffhanger..." Changbin mumbled, clearly unsatisfied with the current ending.

Aeri just shrugged with a sweet smile, "Isn't that what this campaign does best?"

-

tag list (italics are unable to tag): @honeyylin @brattybunfornct @henloiamaweirdobye @anissanightyoung @mythicalamphitrite @nokachiki @liendoesja @smollquokka @hosh1kwon @cyberpunksunwoo @jadeblackwoll @jaspriv @sankyg @animefreak2112 @stay-berry @shuabby1994 @sarcasticsweetlara @bee-the-loser [if you’d like to be added to the tag list, please fill out this form!!!]  

[strxwberry-skiess]

BANGTAN — 방탄소년단

KIM NAMJOON.

❀ wip

KIM SEOKJIN.

❀ wip

MIN YOONGI.

❀ midnight ; cinderella au, romance, drama, angst

the ball is all anyone can talk about. for you, it's just another reminder of your dismal life, stuck with a spiteful stepfamily and endless chores. however, when you are blessed with a miracle, you end up falling into a world you never could have dreamed about.

JUNG HOSEOK.

❀ wip

PARK JIMIN.

❀ the one that got away ; angst, fluff, romance

despite being best friends with park jimin all your life, you always feared that one day, he would slip through your fingers. hiding your feelings from him would be your biggest regret.

KIM TAEHYUNG.

❀ let's get this bread ; fluff, humor

working at a bakery has its perks, especially when an attractive customer likes to ask your opinions on your favorite breads.

JEON JUNGKOOK.

❀ wip

OT7.

❀ cliché tropes ; high school au, bullet point, fluff

bangtan boys as cliché high school tropes

❀ rosewood city ; 1920s au, drama, romance

february 14th, 1922. despite your status as a perfectly content spinster, seven suitors send offerings on valentine's day, ever hopeful theirs will be the one you cannot refuse.

❀ mount olympus ; greek god au, drama, romance, fluff

little is known to man about the gods who live on the mountain. fewer in number are those who have had an encounter with one of the said gods, for they are far from personal. however, you manage to catch the eye of one in particular.

© strxwberry-skiess, 2024. all rights reserved. copying, reposting, or plagiarizing my work is strictly prohibited.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Taehyung

In the aftermath of the latest attack, Taehyung patches everyone up, then rips a man apart for information.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Taehyung x Jungkook

🗡️ word count: 10.9k

🗡️ mafia au, violence & gore, established relationship, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: this chapter is very violent & gory!!! Taehyung has a katana & it is still inside the man he stabbed; lots of blood; the briefest mention of past abuse by Yoongi's father; Yoongi has been shot off screen; tending to Yoongi's wounds; Taehyung & Jungkook have a hostage; threatening a man with a gun; some technical anatomy & doctor jargon since we're in Taehyung's head; Taehyung & Jungkook really enjoy torturing people...if you catch my drift; pain play including pressure on genitals; use of a bone saw!!!; use of lye on wounds; improper use of an epipen; body dismemberment; a touch of dissociation; rough shower sex (bottom Jungkook, top Taehyung); use of restraints.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! this opens just after the chapter where they are chased in cars, there is gun fire, and Taehyung runs a katana through a man! i researched bone saws for this chapter!!! it is violent right out of the gate.

🗡️ early draft beta read by @neoneunnajimin - with minor unbeta’d edits done since.

🗡️ posted april 2024 - originally may 2023 | read on ao3

"What is the matter with you?" Jeongguk shouts, panting and sounding somewhat frantic.

Every inch of Taehyung buzzes—vibrates with an energy he only gets when he is covered in another man's blood. The tail lights of Namjoon's sedan drive further away, and Taehyung is fixated on them, watching as the red dots become smaller and smaller before fading entirely.

"Be more specific," Taehyung mutters as he slowly slides his katana from the man whose hair he holds tightly in his fist, feeling the weight of him drag down as his body continues to convulse and fully lose consciousness. 

"You're gonna fucking scar buttercup, you idiot," Jeongguk grumbles as he yanks away the dead man and throws him aside. "She did not need to watch you gut this man."

Taehyung's arm stays suspended in the air for a split moment, then he drops it to his side and looks up at Jeongguk. Jeongguk's hair is disheveled, face is smeared with blood and dirt, and he is the prettiest fucking thing Taehyung has ever laid eyes on. 

"She's stabbed a man before," Taehyung reasons, unsure what the big deal is. Sooner or later, she is going to need to become a hardened killer too. Or hide away in the brothels with little Jimin. 

With a sigh, Jeongguk grabs Taehyung's bicep and roughly pulls up, attempting to lift him. But the blood that covers him makes it impossible for Jeongguk to get a good grip, causing Taehyung's arm to slide away. 

"Get up!" Jeongguk sounds pained, or possibly angry. "Yoongi-hyung is hurt."

At that, Taehyung's heart seems to jolt in his chest and every nerve sparks with panic. Taehyung looks up and searches Jeongguk's face for any hint that he is joking or exaggerating. 

"Why didn't you lead with that?" Taehyung practically shouts as he scrambles to his feet, holding his katana pointed to the ground. 

Frantically, he looks around, trying to listen for where Yoongi could be, but everything around them is unusually quiet. That, or Taehyung's ears are ringing too loudly. 

"He's not seriously injured, but he has been shot in the chest, over the vest. And a bullet grazed his hand."

This news is shocking to Taehyung, and he allows Jeongguk to drag him off to where Yoongi is sitting against a sedan with Seokjin and Hoseok huddled on either side. Not since he was a teenager has Yoongi been shot. Of everyone, he has come away with the fewest injuries overall—with the exception of those left by his father. 

Yoongi holds a hand over the center of his chest, leaning forward and catching his breath. A weak smile tugs on his face, and as they approach, the loud ringing dulls enough for Taehyung to hear him say, "I'm fine, really."

"I'll take you to my place to check it out," Taehyung insists as he crouches before Yoongi, places the sword onto the pavement, and lifts his injured hand. 

Sure enough, from the thenar web space between Yoongi's thumb and index finger, up to the scaphoid bone on his outer wrist is a shallow gash left by a hot bullet. The skin is opened and slightly cauterized shut, leaving behind a hell of a red mark. 

"How do you feel otherwise?" Taehyung asks, assessing Yoongi to make sure his vision seems clear at a glance. "Can you take in a deep, slow breath for me?"

Yoongi nods and smiles, then sucks in air. Although his inhale is shaky, undoubtedly from a bruised bone, he does not seem to be in dangerous levels of pain, leading Taehyung to hope that the bullet has, in fact, only bruised him, and that there is no internal bleeding. 

Taehyung reaches into his slacks pocket and pulls out a thin flashlight the size of a pen, then presses a button on the end of it, lighting it up. He holds the light just under Yoongi's right eye and says, "Eyes on me, boss," as he slowly lifts the light and watches Yoongi's pupil constrict, becoming smaller. Then he holds the light just under Yoongi's left eye and does the same, yielding the same result. 

"No immediate sign of a concussion," Taehyung says as he clicks the flashlight off and shoves it back where it belongs, catching a little metal hook on the end of it to the material of his pocket so that it stays snug. "Alright, let's get you up and into a vehicle. Jeongguk and I will take you home."

Seokjin and Hoseok stand and take a step back, and Taehyung looks upward, glancing between them, "Are you two good?"

"Yeah," Seokjin responds, and Hoseok mutters, "I'm good."

"Good," Taehyung says as he stands, then he turns to Seokjin and asks, "And did you manage to keep one alive for me?"

With a grin, Seokjin tilts his head to the left, toward Taehyung's vehicle, and says, "Knocked out and bound. He's all yours."

"Perfect," Taehyung responds, feeling a thrill quake through him. "Thanks, hyung."

* * *

A little over halfway to the mansion, the man in the back seat begins to stir. First, he makes a low grumble, and then he begins to whimper. Taehyung glances through the rearview mirror and waits for the man to notice him before he snarls.

"Good morning, sunshine," Taehyung says, watching as the man becomes frantic, attempting to thrash. 

Jeongguk, who sits beside the man, pulls a gun from his thigh holster and lifts it, cocking the hammer nice and loud. Taehyung finds it difficult to keep his eyes on the road, absolutely enthralled by the anger in Jeongguk's eyes while he points the gun in the man's face.

"I will paint the window with your brain if you don't shut the fuck up," Jeongguk practically growls, pressing the weapon against the man's head. 

All this does is make the man squeal more, and from the passenger seat, Yoongi huffs out an impatient sigh. Taehyung glances over to find Yoongi sitting stiffly with his head pressed into the seat, staring ahead. He cannot tell how Yoongi's breathing is only from a glance, but he does not hear any labored breaths, so he continues to drive without pressing him. 

Whoever the man in the back seat is, he does not deserve the pleasure of overhearing that one of his men has managed to injure Boss Min. Even if he does only have a few more hours to live. 

It is unusual for Yoongi to be so quiet, especially with a hostage present, so Taehyung imagines he must be pretty sore. He had not bothered to turn in his seat to have a look at or taunt the man, as he is usually wont to do. Taehyung wonders who this man is and whether he knows who Yoongi is. He supposes he will find out soon enough. 

In the back seat, the man has quieted down, but continues to mutter into the tape over his mouth. They are less than a mile from the property now, and Taehyung speeds up, gradually pressing his foot on the accelerator and listening as the engine hums. Nobody is ever on this stretch of road; nobody who knows who this road belongs to would dare. 

As soon as his mansion comes into view over a low hill, Taehyung lets up on the gas a little, taking the hill at enough speed that it rattles the vehicle. He remembers too late that his boss is injured; he is always so eager for the light-headed rush that comes from flying over the hump that he was only focused on the thrill. But Yoongi says nothing beside him, hands clasped over his lap while he stares ahead. 

"Sorry, boss," Taehyung mutters anyway.

"I always do it, too," Yoongi responds, and Taehyung glances over to find a small smile pulling at his lips. 

Silence falls a little longer, and Taehyung slows to approach the driveway, turning to the right and stopping before a large metal gate. He pulls down the visor and punches an eight-digit code—Jeongguk's birth year, month, and day—then waits as the gate opens. 

"How long have we known each other?" Yoongi asks, taking Taehyung by surprise. 

Taehyung glances to find Yoongi staring ahead, looking pensive. 

"A long time," he responds, unsure exactly how many years it has been. Somewhere around fifteen, he surmises. 

Yoongi hums, and Taehyung pulls into the circular drive, parking the sedan parallel to the garage. He shuts off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns to Yoongi, who slowly reaches to undo his own belt.

"A long time," Yoongi repeats with a soft smile, then he reaches for the handle and opens the door, letting himself out. 

Ordinarily, Taehyung would cause a fuss and insist on Yoongi waiting for help, but he knows better. Yoongi is not going to appear weak in front of the man in the back seat. He does groan when he gets out, however, and Taehyung takes note of the sharp intake of breath as he steps onto the driveway and rotates to shut the door. 

"Do you need help with him?" Taehyung asks, voice coming out a little more gruff than he expected it to. He glances into the rearview mirror and finds Jeongguk eyeing the man and shrugging. 

"Nah, I got him. Take care of the boss and I'll drag this shithead inside when you're ready."

With a nod, Taehyung opens his door and slides out, slamming it shut and jogging around the back of the sedan to get to the front door of his house before Yoongi does. He punches the years Yoongi and Jeongguk were born into the keypad, then stares into the retina scanner, feeling impatient to get inside.

"That pass code is weak," Yoongi grumbles, making Taehyung scoff. 

"You always say that, boss," Taehyung responds as he twists the knob and reaches a hand high to hold the door open as Yoongi enters.

Yoongi hobbles inside, hugging his arms around his chest, then he approaches the wall beside the door and leans back while taking a deep breath, staring down at his feet. Taehyung approaches, letting the door close behind him, and takes a knee, smacking Yoongi's slowly lowering hands out of the way before untying his right boot and then his left. 

"I can do it," Yoongi grumbles, and Taehyung glances up to watch Yoongi look at the ceiling and let out a deep sigh.

"What do you always tell us?" Taehyung asks as he holds onto the heel of the right boot and keeps it still for Yoongi to pull his foot free. 

"I tell you a lot of things," Yoongi responds as Taehyung grabs the left heel, "most of which you do not bother to listen to."

As Yoongi pulls his left foot free, Taehyung looks up, raising his eyebrows as if he has been insulted, though unable to keep himself from smiling. 

"You and I both know that is not true, boss," Taehyung says, watching as Yoongi stares down incredulously. "You always tell us not to try to do everything alone, isn't that right?"

Yoongi hums and scoffs, then wraps his arms around his torso. He appears to have a lot on his mind, but Taehyung does not want to prompt him to tell him what it is. In the years he has known Yoongi, he has come to learn that the man will only divulge what he wants when he wants to. 

Taehyung shifts his weight back and unties his left boot, then he adjusts to untie the right boot and stands. His legs and back feel tired, and he lets out a slow exhale as he kicks the boots off and leads Yoongi down into his basement. 

With a press of a button near the ramp that leads down, everything glows a hot, blue-white. The fluorescent lighting is bright, taking Taehyung's tired eyes a moment to adjust to as he wraps an arm around Yoongi's shoulder and guides him down to the next level, slowly taking one step at a time. 

Silence hangs, thick and oppressive, buzzing through Taehyung much in the way he imagines gas and mercury buzzing through the bulbs overhead. He does not mind the silence—preferring it to filler bullshit—but Yoongi's demeanor has him worried. No use dwelling on it, he decides as he leads Yoongi into an exam room just off to the right of the main room. 

Taehyung's basement is massive, stretching further than his house, in the direction of the main mansion. If someone were to dig a hole into the shrub maze in Yoongi's garden, they would likely end up in the worst part of Taehyung's estate. The main room is a large sterile white space with doors on the right leading into an exam room, an operating room, and storage rooms. 

Through the space, straight ahead, is a steel door that leads to an area of the property that men only go to in order to die.

They walk into the first room on the right, and Taehyung flips on a switch, casting more bright, fluorescent light.

"Have a seat," Taehyung says as he guides Yoongi over to the examination table and waits for him to turn around and get situated.

Once Yoongi sits, he drops his hands to his sides, and Taehyung makes quick, careful work of unstrapping the bulletproof vest. The velcro is loud as it tears apart, seemingly echoing throughout the otherwise empty room. Yoongi raises his arms, wincing from the motion, and Taehyung slowly lifts the vest, doing his best to slide it away and not add any additional pressure to the center of his chest. 

"How is the pain?" Taehyung asks while setting aside the vest and taking Yoongi's wrists to slowly help him lower his arms. Even if it is just a bruise, the ribs can still hurt, and the movement can put strain on the injury.

"Fucking sucks," Yoongi grits through his teeth as his arms rest at his sides, "but it is manageable. Just need a valium and a bath and I will be fine."

"I'm surprised you took a bullet at all," Taehyung mutters before he can stop himself. 

Silence hangs, then Yoongi snickers and responds, "Even dexterous monkeys fall from trees sometimes, Taehyungah."

Of all the animals in the kingdom, Taehyung cannot imagine likening his boss to a monkey. A lion, perhaps. Or a leopard. 

Taehyung hums as he begins unbuttoning Yoongi's shirt, revealing a black tee underneath. As he slides away the garment, he wonders if they should just cut away the undershirt to save Yoongi some trouble, but Yoongi shrugs the material off and slowly begins to lift his shirt, pulling it up until it reveals a nice red welt right in the center of his chest. 

Bruising is minimal, but the area is raised and irritated. Taehyung decides that he can assess the injury without fully undressing Yoongi, so long as he is able to hold the cloth in place. 

"Would you describe the pain as sharp or dull?" Taehyung asks as he turns to grab a stethoscope from the table to his right and situate the ear pieces into his ears. 

"Not sharp," Yoongi responds. "Not quite dull either. But it doesn't feel like anything is broken."

Taehyung walks around the operating table and lifts the back of Yoongi's shirt a bit higher, muttering, "This might feel cold against your skin," as he touches the stethoscope beside his right scapula. 

"Deep breath in," Taehyung instructs, listening as Yoongi does as he is told. There is nothing indicating any sort of injury; his oxygen flow sounds smooth and unobstructed. Taehyung lowers the stethoscope, following the scapula bone shape down, instructing Yoongi to take another breath and then another, then repeating it on the other side, carefully listening to his lungs. Once he is satisfied, he pulls off the stethoscope and slowly lowers Yoongi's shirt. 

"Sounds good, but I want to take an x-ray to be sure," Taehyung grumbles as he walks back around to the front of the table.

Yoongi stands from the table, sighing as he says, "Of course you do," then he empties his pockets of his phone and wallet, removes his Rolex, and drops everything onto the exam table before exiting the room. 

He takes a right, leading the way through Taehyung's basement as if he owns the place, making Taehyung smile to himself over the man's impatience. Taehyung sets the stethoscope down onto the spot where Yoongi had been sitting and follows behind, out to the right, past the operating room to the third door on the right. 

Yoongi is already in position in front of the detection panel with his back to the x-ray machine, lights turned on. Taehyung smiles to himself and walks through the small, sterile white room, through a lead door, and into a much smaller room. 

Lead walls and windows shield him from radiation, and in the confined space, there is only a small desk with a computer, a tablet, and a microphone for a two-way intercom. Taehyung, however, keeps the door open, not concerned about radiation since it is rare that he uses imaging equipment these days. 

With the flip of a few switches, the equipment buzzes to life, and Taehyung settles back in a black leather chair as he uses a computer program to align the camera with Yoongi's chest and takes an x-ray. A tablet sitting to the right of the computer lights up with a notification that the image has been received and Taehyung lifts it, opens the photograph, and has a look. 

Meanwhile, Yoongi begins to hobble out of the room, to a small black couch that sits just on the other side of the door to wait, as he has become accustomed to doing. Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head, then returns his attention to the image.

There is no sign of fracture on the sternum, for anything to indicate a fracture in any of Yoongi's ribs, and Taehyung stands with the tablet in hand and leaves the lead room, walking past the equipment and out into the large, empty outer room. 

"Looks good, hyung," Taehyung says as he passes the tablet over and lets Yoongi have a look. "Since the area is likely just bruised, you should feel better after a warm shower and some rest. Take some painkillers, and don't put too much strain on yourself."

"Thanks, doc," Yoongi responds, lifting the tablet for Taehyung to take, which he does. 

"Now would be a good time for that vacation you have been talking about."

Yoongi nods his head, tired eyes staring straight ahead at the plain white wall. 

"Perhaps one of Jimin's rooms in Paris is free," Taehyung suggests, making Yoongi nod more. 

The seven of them own penthouse suites here and there, sprinkled across various continents, and he imagines both Namjoon and buttercup would be easily charmed by the city of love.  

"Jimin has been in Paris for the last few days, laying low and taking some time for himself," Yoongi says. "I'll get in touch and see if we can use one of his suites. Perhaps a night in the city with him will be good for our darling, too."

Jimin is in Paris? This is news to Taehyung. Although Jimin's absence has been felt lately, he prefers not to pry, but he is surprised to learn that his friend is on the other side of the globe. Taehyung hopes he is doing well. 

"We have the meeting with The Tigers in Hong Kong," Yoongi mutters, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "I'll plan a trip from Hong Kong to Paris for a long weekend. Think you and Jeongguk can hold things down here while we're away?"

Taehyung chuckles, hums a soft, "Mmhmm," and turns, entering the x-ray room to return the tablet to its home and shut the equipment down. As he switches off the last set of lights and pulls the door to the room closed, Yoongi stands, pressing his palms into his knees with a deep sigh. He holds out a hand to help keep Yoongi steady in case he needs it, hovering it around his lower back. 

"I want to clean this hand wound, and bandage it a little so that the sight of it doesn't freak buttercup out," Taehyung says, using his fingertips against the palm of Yoongi's hand to encourage him to lift it. 

The wound is not too deep, and Taehyung leads Yoongi back into the first room, then grabs and rips open an antiseptic wipe packet, rubbing it over the surface of the wound to clean it. He grabs and unwraps a sterile pad while the antiseptic takes a moment to air dry, then he places it over the wound, positioning it diagonally so the entirety is covered, and gently wraps the hand in bandage tape that sticks to itself. 

Yoongi opens his fingers and squeezes them tightly closed, seemingly pleased with his range of motion, then he stands and begins to gather the items he discarded before having the x-ray,  dropping everything into his slacks pockets. Slowly, Yoongi slides his arms into his black button-up, and Taehyung helps him situate it over his shoulders.

"Let's get you home," Taehyung says as he wraps an arm around Yoongi's lower back, leading him back out to the main room and shutting off the light in the exam room. "I'm going to take care of our little friend. Anything you want me to ask him?"

Yoongi shrugs. "Just need a name or motive. I have a feeling I already know what this is about."

As they walk through the basement, toward the ramp leading up, Taehyung gives Yoongi's side a gentle squeeze, smiling when Yoongi leans into his side for a brief moment. He wishes they had more moments like this, with just the two of them, minus the injury. But, as it is, they both seem to have their hands full. 

"Do you think The Tigers will be able to handle the operations better than we have, if they decide to take over?" Taehyung asks as they walk up the ramp, to the foyer. He reaches to switch off the lights to the lower level, blinking as his eyes adjust to less light. 

"I think they are more than capable," Yoongi responds in a tone so flat, there is nothing to glean from it but the words themselves.

Taehyung nods, then asks, "And tonight...do we think this has anything to do with the men Jeongguk took out? Or do we think it is a personal attack from Ryujin?"

Yoongi hums, releases himself from Taehyung's hold, and turns to lean against the wall. Taehyung begins to crouch to retrieve Yoongi's boots, but Yoongi swats his hands away, letting out deep, long breaths as he bends. 

"Just give me time to do it," he mutters, so Taehyung nods and retrieves a pair of athletic slides, then he stands and joins Yoongi with his butt against the wall, sliding his feet into one sandal at a time.

By the time Taehyung is standing straight against the wall, Yoongi has his first boot tied, and Taehyung relaxes his shoulders and waits. 

"Seokjin thinks Ryujin may no longer be in charge of the Busan operations," Yoongi says after a pause, still bent in half.

"Oh?" Taehyung asks, not entirely surprised. He has heard whispers of such a thing. 

Yoongi hums, then stands still with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Taehyung is happy to see his range of motion is not inhibited too much, and continues to patiently wait. 

"He is working on gathering more information. Hopefully Hyunjin will have some insight, and we can sit down and talk with him once we have him safely in hiding."

"Ah," Taehyung responds, remembering a conversation about their informant finally being pulled out. 

He wonders if they plan on sending anyone new in his place, but does not ask. Information like this hardly leaves the small circles in which it is discussed until plans have been set in motion and they can safely discuss it openly. It took two years for him to learn they had an informant there, in the first place. 

"But to answer your question," Yoongi continues, sliding his foot into the second boot, "and to bring all of this mess—for lack of better term—together," he sighs heavily, "it is not that I think The Tigers can handle things better, necessarily, but if Ryujin, or whomever, does call for war, I do not want Jeongguk on the frontlines. Not only is he reckless and too willing to charge into a scenario like that headfirst, but he is our maknae. I found him as a kid dazed and scared on the street, covered in another man's blood, and I promised myself that nothing terrible would befall him again. Of course, I have failed at keeping that promise…but if I can keep him alive and healthy, I will do whatever it takes."

Relief washes over Taehyung and he rests his head back against the wall, letting out a deep exhale. He knows that Yoongi loves Jeongguk, and that protecting him has always been a priority, but he is glad that steps are being taken to pull Jeongguk out of operations that have kept him close to Busan. The guy is far too smart to be in charge of drug running, and it is high time he is given more responsibility that keeps him close to home. 

Perhaps Taehyung is selfish, but he does not want his Jeonggukie constantly traveling to the shore and back. He wants him here, where he belongs. If anything were to happen to Jeongguk, Taehyung would raise every demon from hell and burn this city and every building from here to the shore down to the fucking ground. 

"Nobody is more brilliant at logistics than Jeongguk," Yoongi continues, bent in half again and slowly tying his second boot. "Having him oversee drug operations has been monumental in our financial success, and thanks to him, the clubs have more high-spending clientele. Our success—that which we gained, and which was not passed down from the old man—is largely thanks to him. He has worked hard, and it is time for him to rest."

The thought of Jeongguk resting makes Taehyung chuckle. "You know that of all of us, he is the second most restless, after only you, hyung."

"I am aware," Yoongi responds with a hint of mirth in his voice. With a groan, he stands tall, resting his head back against the wall, and Taehyung watches him—watches as his long lashes flutter against his high cheekbones and his brows knit slightly. At times, he wishes he could read the man's mind. "I'll make sure he is kept busy. There is no shortage of bullshit to handle."

"Rumor has it, Jimin wants him to help with the clubs," Taehyung mutters, momentarily picturing muscular, tattooed Jeongguk spinning around one of the poles at Paradise wearing a tiny black thong with his piercings glittering in the light. 

Of course, stripping would not be one of the duties Jeongguk would be appointed to, but a man can dream.

"That certainly is an option," Yoongi responds as he opens his eyes and turns his gaze to Taehyung, soft and calm. "He can help Hoseok with weapons too, if he would like. Anything that strikes his fancy; this world is his."

Although Taehyung is not often one to openly show affection toward his boss, he cannot help himself as he turns and pulls Yoongi into a hug. Although Yoongi grumbles a sound of confusion, he lifts his arms and gently settles them around Taehyung's hips, and he does not balk at Taehyung resting his head on his shoulder. 

"Thank you, hyung."

Yoongi chuckles and begins to ask what Taehyung is thanking him for, but Taehyung shakes his head and gently hugs him tighter around the upper arms, careful not to compress against his chest. 

"I know you love us. I know that you look out for us, not just because it is your duty as our boss, but because you genuinely care about us. But I still want to acknowledge what you do to keep us safe. God only knows what could have become of Jeongguk, if— Just—" To his surprise, Taehyung feels emotional from his words, and he takes a fortifying breath. "Thank you." 

"Ah, Taehyungah," Yoongi grumbles, finally pushing free from the hug, making Taehyung momentarily hold on tighter, "We are a family."

"An incestuous family," Taehyung teases, earning him a smack on the side of the head, making him laugh as he finally releases the hug. 

"Nobody is forcing you to fuck one of the family men," Yoongi grumbles, hardly sounding defensive.

Taehyung laughs, mutters, "Sometimes he does," with a smile, earning him one more smack against the head before they walk to the front door and open it, greeted by cold night air and the sight of Jeongguk sitting on top of a body that lays face-down on the cement while smoking a cigarette. 

"Speak of the devil," Yoongi mutters, and Taehyung chuckles, feeling affection warm him. How can one man be so unhinged and so dreadfully beautiful, covered in blood and sweat.

"Gonna walk hyung home, then we'll take care of him?" Taehyung asks.

Jeongguk nods and tugs his lips into a small smirk. "Looking forward to it, hyung."

The walk back to Yoongi's mansion is quick and quiet, with gravel crunching and twigs snapping underfoot. The fountains appear somewhat ominous underlit in the dark—eerie and foreboding. When they reach the mansion, Yoongi looks up toward the only lit window on this side of the house and chuckles. 

"Want to take bets on whether they are in the tub or the shower?" Taehyung asks playfully.

"Definitely the tub," Yoongi responds with a soft smile that falls to something akin to worry. "I'm sure our darling is pretty shaken up from everything."

With a knowing nod, Taehyung hums. Perhaps he should not have run his sword through the man right in front of her. In the moment of passion, he finds he has a hard time with reason, seeing red and only considering the most effective way to maim and kill. 

"I'm a little surprised she hasn't been scared off, yet," Taehyung says against his better judgment. Thankfully, Yoongi never seems to take things too seriously when it comes to casual conversation between the family men, and he just hums in response.

"She's more resilient than she seems," Yoongi mutters after a moment. 

Taehyung wonders how true that might be. He has no reason to think she is weak, but is she as strong as they give her credit for? Or does she simply have nowhere else to go? 

He certainly would never blame her, either way. If being at the mansion is something she wants, then he wants her to find comfort and happiness…but he also worries about the unorthodox way in which she arrived at the mansion in the first place. 

Is there a chance she still feels like a prisoner in her own home? Are Yoongi and Namjoon distracting her with sex and a seemingly endless supply of money, drugs, and champagne?

As they round the mansion to the front door, Taehyung is relieved to find only one vehicle in the drive. Although he did not necessarily expect Seokjin or Hoseok to be around, he is glad to not have to stay and chat. Knowing there is a man at his home who he needs to deal with has him feeling antsy and eager to return. 

Yoongi's steps begin to slow as they approach the front door, and Taehyung steps in closer to offer a hand, which Yoongi pushes away as he goes through the various security measures to get into the front door. 

Once they are inside, however, Taehyung closes the door tight and gets down on his knees, ignoring Yoongi's protests for help, and unties his boots for him. Then he holds each one steady for Yoongi to step out of, stands, and wraps an arm around Yoongi's middle to guide him to the steps. Yoongi does not bother turning on any lights; a yellow glow from outside security lamps shine through the windows, making it easy enough to see. 

"I can walk just fine," Yoongi grumbles despite allowing Taehyung to continue with the assist. 

"You can," Taehyung agrees as he steps out of his slides and kicks them aside, "but you're slowing down and I want to get back home."

"Go fucking home then," Yoongi says with a gentle shove of his shoulder, but without a hint of malice in his tone. 

"Gotta make sure your darling doesn't have a concussion, and then I will."

Yoongi hums, then they round the staircase and take it nice and slow to the top. Although Yoongi winces and groans less, he leans more into Taehyung the closer they get to the landing, and he seems out of breath once they reach their destination. 

"How's your chest?" Taehyung asks as they approach the open door to the master bedroom. 

"Eh," Yoongi responds. "The pain is minimal compared to before. Now I just feel really fucking tired."

"Well," Taehyung says in a teasing tone as they enter the bedroom and swing to the left, toward the ensuite, and only light that appears to be on in the entire mansion, "no vigorous activity tonight. Leave all of that to Namjoon."

Yoongi chuckles, and Taehyung clears his throat, schooling his features to appear a little more impassive as they turn the corner and face Namjoon and buttercup in the tub. Namjoon appears to be giving her a foot massage, nearly making Taehyung crack a smile. No wonder she puts up with their bullshit. 

Although Taehyung should have expected such a response, he is taken slightly aback when she sees Yoongi and sits up quickly with a look of fear on her face. As she moves, water sloshes over the side of the tub, and it seems to take her a moment to realize her bare breasts are exposed before she lifts an arm to cover herself. Taehyung swallows a lump in his throat and does his best to appear as stoic as possible…Jeonggukie is going to be so jealous, but now is not the time to feel giddy about that.

“Don’t panic,” Yoongi says, holding his injured hand in the air. “I took a bullet to the vest, right in my sternum, and it hurts like a mother fucker, but I just need to rest.”

“You took a—” buttercup gasps, voice sounding weak before dying in her throat, and Taehyung is suddenly uncomfortable with having to witness this exchange, letting his vision lose focus as the moment passes. He really wants to get back home. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Namjoon says calmly.

Eager to check buttercup's eyes and get back to his captive, Taehyung walks Yoongi over to the toilet and stands close while he takes a seat on the closed lid, then he approaches the tub, pulling his little flashlight from his pocket.

“Yoongi, Jeongguk, and I are all fine after the bout of whiplash, but I would like to check your eyes,” Taehyung says, squatting beside the tub.

Buttercup nods and stares up at Taehyung, who switches on the flashlight beside the right side of her face and slowly pulls it upward until some of the light hits her eye. Everything looks good on this side, and he moves the light to the left side and does the same, then he switches it off and cracks a smile, relieved to find that she is fine. 

“Your pupils are dilating properly. Do you have any severe head or neck pain?”

She shakes her head and mutters, “No, just a little soreness where my head hit the seat.”

“Nausea or dizziness?”

“Kind of, but I think it’s just related to all the anxiety.”

“Alright,” Taehyung says, standing and taking a step backward; her responses are pretty standard, and her speech is fine. She seems perfectly cognizant. “If you happen to become dizzy or nauseated enough to vomit, or experience any sharp head pain, please call me and I will come right over.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” she says softly, sighing with what sounds like relief.

Unable to hold back a shy smile, Taehyung says, “Don’t mention it, buttercup,” then he backs up, turns gracefully on his socked feet, and takes his exit, leaving Yoongi to undress himself and join his little harem in the tub. 

With a pep in his step, Taehyung leaves the master suite and practically slides to the top of the stairs, barreling down two at a time, jumping over the last three. As he practically sprints to his slides and throws the front door open, adrenaline spikes, and Taehyung takes off back to his property as quickly as his sandaled feet will carry him.

When Taehyung reaches the basement, finding the fluorescent lights turned back on, he notices boot tracks and droplets of blood on the otherwise polished floor, leading back to the dungeon. Just the thought alone of Jeongguk dragging a desperate, whimpering man through the space has blood rushing to his cock, and he steadily makes his way to the back of the long, mostly empty basement space, standing before a large metal door that Jeongguk has conveniently left cracked open. 

Taehyung's steps are light, sandals making minimal sound as he slowly pulls the door open and takes in the sight before him. The man is hanging limp in the center of the cement room with his wrists in chains, muttering something weakly with his head hung low, and Jeongguk is leaning against the far corner with his black button-up hanging half open exposing an enticing strip of golden skin while he smokes another cigarette. 

"Finally," Jeongguk says, dropping the cigarette to the floor and stomping it out beneath his boot. He looks angry to have been kept waiting, which fuels the already growing wildfire just beneath Taehyung's skin.

"Copping an attitude already?" Taehyung bites back with a glare, stepping through the space in a rush, past the man, to take Jeongguk's pretty little jaw in his hand and squeeze. "I had to take care of our boss. Have you no respect?"

Jeongguk is the first to crack, smiling with his lips squeezed between Taehyung's fingers, making Taehyung laugh. He pulls Jeongguk close, slots a leg between his thighs and presses their bodies together until Jeongguk whimpers. 

"I hope you didn't hurt him too much without me," Taehyung groans, digging his thigh higher into Jeongguk's balls until the poor guy's eyes begin to fill with tears. 

"N-no, sir," Jeongguk mutters sweetly, nearly making Taehyung consider putting the torture on hold so he can fuck him against this grimy cement wall.

But he wants to make this man scream. He really wants to.

"Damn," Taehyung mock pouts, dropping Jeongguk's jaw and taking a step back, watching as a mix of emotions flash before Jeongguk's face, including a hint of disappointment. "I was hoping to have a reason to punish you."

With a sudden devious grin, Jeongguk reaches for the holster around his thigh, pulls out a handgun, and lifts it, pointing to the man. He clicks the hammer back while raising his eyebrows, and Taehyung grabs his hand quickly, twisting the gun from Jeongguk's grasp and holding it behind his back. 

"Don't you fucking dare," Taehyung challenges, and Jeongguk laughs, bright and pretty, making him absolutely crazy. 

"God, you should have seen the look on your face," Jeongguk teases, stepping forward and reaching around Taehyung for his gun, which Taehyung allows him to have. "You looked like you were going to kill me."

"Please don't give me a reason to," Taehyung responds, shoving Jeongguk back into the corner and lifting his hands to rake them over the dirty, bloodstained shirt. "As pretty of a trophy as your head would make, I would suffer a great loss without you."

"So romantic," Jeongguk groans as his freehand presses into Taehyung's semi-hard cock and gives it a squeeze. 

The feeling is exquisite, especially with how tight and constricting Taehyung's slacks are, and he lets out a deep, pleased groan, allowing Jeongguk to tease him just a little more before getting his hands dirty. With a chaste, soft kiss, Taehyung backs from Jeongguk and turns back to their captive, who stirs and grumbles, head slumped forward. 

"Did you rough him up?" Taehyung asks as he crosses the room, over to a large metal rack that contains some of his retired tools. "He seems more out of it now than he was in the car."

"Yeah," Jeongguk responds, "while you and Yoongi were down here, I shot him up with a little baby dose of heroin."

A mix of anger and surprise spikes in Taehyung, and he spins, searching Jeongguk for any sign that he may be joking. "Heroin? Where the fuck did you get that?"

Jeongguk chuckles and shakes his head, holding up a hand. "Relax, hyung. Our friends in Japan sent some over in case we wanted to try it out, but I have been holding onto it only to use for purposes like these."

This information does not compute, and Taehyung watches Jeongguk a moment more, hoping that he will continue to talk. When he does not, Taehyung turns back to his rack of rusted, dull surgical instruments, and attempts to gather his thoughts. 

Bringing heroin back into the family, even unintentionally, could yield catastrophic results. The last time Yoongi had his hands on a supply, they nearly lost everything, including the man himself. 

Now is not the time for this conversation, but he does not want to let it go. With a sigh, he grabs onto his trusty Serratec III—feeling the weight of the steel, handheld bone saw—and flips the switch on, watching the blade whirr and spin to life. The sound rings out loudly in the otherwise silent space, and the man chained in the center of the room stirs, jerking his head upward. 

Blood drips from the top of the man's head into his eyes, and Taehyung takes a step forward, watching as clarity hits and the man begins to fully understand the gravity of the situation. 

"What is your name?" Taehyung shouts over the shrill buzz of the saw, standing about ten feet from the man, who jerks at the chains holding him. 

The man shivers like a leaf caught in a storm, whipping his head frantically from left to right. 

"P-please," he begs, "please don't do this."

"Please don't do this?" Taehyung asks loudly, taking a step closer. "That's a long family name…doesn't sound Korean."

Behind the man, Jeongguk snickers. Then he grabs the man's face with both hands and uses his thumbs and index fingers to open the man's eyes wide, forcing him to look at Taehyung. 

"Name," Taehyung shouts, crouching slightly to be eye-level with him. 

The man whimpers pathetically and turns his head away, blood, sweat, and drool coating his ugly face. Taehyung switches off the small metal saw, and silence falls as the spinning blade slows to an abrupt stop. Using the end of the semi-rusted blade, Taehyung presses the tool against the man's chin to push on his face and make him look at Taehyung a little more squarely. Jeongguk continues to hold open his eyes, which the man attempts to blink.

"You really should answer my questions," Taehyung says softly. "Men who don't follow my orders don't make it out of here alive."

With a low squeal, the man manages to twist out of Jeongguk's grasp, dropping his head to the side. Jeongguk roughly grips onto the man's greasy, short dark brown hair and jerks his head up, making him sob. With the ability to blink, tears fall freely down the man's face, and he shakes his head in quick, shallow movements. 

"I know who you are," the man mutters, spitting through his words while snot dribbles onto his upper lip. "N-nobody comes out of this basement alive."

Taehyung snarls, eyes wide with his teeth bared, doing his best to look as horrifying as possible. The man winces, shivering, and Taehyung chuckles, glad his plan has worked. 

"You know who I am, hmm?" he asks in a playful voice, scraping the edge of the saw blade gently up the man's jaw. 

"Y-you're d-doctor death," the man croaks through sobs. "Everyone has heard of you."

"Doctor death?" Taehyung repeats, chest swelling with excitement over the moniker. "My, my, my, I am honored to have earned such a title."

"Please just kill me," the man whimpers, shaking so hard his teeth rattle. 

"Ah, but I can't do that," Taehyung responds, cocking his head to the side to mirror the angle of the man's head. "I need to know who sent you to us tonight. And the longer it takes you to talk, the more painful it will be, do you understand?"

"Y-you know who it was," the man bleats, wincing when Jeongguk tugs his hair harder. 

With a sigh, Taehyung stands straight and flips the saw back on. The smell of piss hits his nose in an instant, and glances down to see a trickle running from the man's pant leg, into the small metal grate at his feet. 

Taehyung wonders how long this man has worked in this business, and what his rank might be. He appears no older than Yoongi or Seokjin but he cowers like a bitch who has hardly seen any action. 

"If you're so afraid of me, you should just talk!" Taehyung shouts like a parent scolding a child. 

"B-but they'll kill me," the man sputters, barely audible over the saw. 

"What I will do is worse than killing you!" Taehyung insists, holding up the saw so that the man has a good view of it. 

Finally, the man screams bloody murder, eyes screwed shut and spit falling from between his lips. 

"You're a lamb hung out to slaughter," Taehyung mutters, uncaring whether the man can hear him or not. "And nobody can hear you scream."

"P-please," the man whimpers, shaking his head, which is still being tugged by Jeongguk. "Tonight was nothing. She already has attacks planned at a much greater scale."

"She does, does she?" Taehyung asks, receiving at least one answer. 

There have been whispers, however, that Ryujin may not be in charge of the Busan operations. Nothing more than voices murmuring rumors…but Taehyung is curious whether there is anything to substantiate those murmurs, especially since Yoongi and Seokjin seem to also think they could be true; Yoongi knows Ryujin better than anyone. 

The streets tend to talk a lot, but something about this particular rumor seems to hold a little weight, if it is who Taehyung believes it may be. Although Ryujin has her bone to pick with her ex, she was never quite the vindictive type—not on this scale. 

Kim Hyungseo, on the other hand…

"P-please," the man sobs. "If you can promise me a clean death, I will tell you everything."

Taehyung's head rolls back as he laughs, making the sound as boisterous as he can muster. Just who does this man think he is, trying to tell Doctor Death what to do?

"Are you giving me orders?" Taehyung snaps, leaning in close while Jeongguk yanks the man's head hard enough to make him scream. 

"No! No, please, no, I was just—"

Taehyung leans in closer, speaking nice and slow, "Because I don't take too well to being given orders."

The man's eyes widen, full of fear so great, it makes Taehyung's heart soar to the heavens. Taehyung lifts the saw and gently nicks the man's jaw, causing a splattering of blood to hit him on the chest. The man squeals like a pig, frantically yanking at his restraints and causing Jeongguk's grasp on his hair to slip. 

"Who is your boss!" Taehyung screams, making the man scream in response, and Taehyung lifts the saw high and nicks the man on his ulna bone, just below his wrist, deep enough to hit the bone, but not deep enough to sever anything important.

"Fuck!" the man screams, "Please, please just kill me!"

"You know I won't do that," Taehyung teases, moving the saw around to hit the other arm in the same spot, letting the saw collide with the metal chains holding the man in place to make a horrific metallic scraping sound. "My reputation precedes me, remember? Doctor Death, was it?" 

It always amazes Taehyung how much a man will tolerate just to keep his mouth shut, and he leaves more little nicks along the man's arms, causing blood to run down in thin streaks. He is certain he would be able to withstand torture to keep Yoongi safe, but that is Yoongi, after all. 

What could this man possibly stand to gain, as a grunt sent into a gunfight? Is his life really worth more than whatever he is willing to protect?

"Alright," Taehyung sighs, turning the saw off once more. "Let's suit up and really make this pig squeal."

Beside the metal rack of nearly-defunct toys is a large, metal cabinet that holds hazmat suits, oxygen masks, and other protective barriers, as well as tubs of cleaning agents. Jeongguk slaps the man on the back of the head, then joins Taehyung by the cabinet.

The two of them make quick work sliding into two white suits that zip in the front, pulling hoods over their heads and covering their faces with masks that have a clear plate over the eyes, and respirators over the mouth. They put on sets of nitrile gloves, and Taehyung grabs a small tub of powdered lye that he hands to Jeongguk. 

Taehyung retrieves his saw and returns to the man, who trembles hard, bleating out pathetic pleas to be spared. Jeongguk removes the lid from the lye and tosses it aside, then pulls out a little blue measuring scoop and begins to sprinkle the caustic powder onto the man's hands and arms. 

The effect where the man is cut is instant—the lye begins to burn at the skin, eating away and causing the wounds to fester. The man thrashes and screams, spit and sweat flying from him as unintelligible syllables fall from his mouth as his chains clatter.

"You really should just answer my questions," Taehyung sing-songs, voice sounding even more menacing as it filters through the oxygen mask. "I can shoot you up with epinephrine and keep you alive for a long time."

The man curses and screams, frantically shaking his arms, rattling the chains loudly, only serving to make every nerve of Taehyung's spike—making him itch to hurt the man more. 

"Is Shin still in charge?" Taehyung asks, watching as the skin on the man's hands and wrists slowly turns a horrible yellow-pink. 

The man shakes his head, but it is not enough of a response; for all Taehyung knows, it could simply be a reaction to the pain. 

"Answer me!" Taehyung screams, and the man jerks away, frantically thrashing in his chains. 

"Y-yes," the man whimpers, but it is not convincing. He screws up his face in a way that tells Taehyung he is lying. 

"You're sure about that?" Taehyung asks, inching closer. "Rumor has it Kim is in charge, and Shin is a pawn."

The way the man's eyes light up tells Taehyung he is onto something, then he shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, quaking with fear and pain the likes of which Taehyung can only imagine. 

But then the man says, "I d-don't know what you are t-talking about," squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. 

Taehyung hums, lifts the saw, and shouts, "Let's jog that memory of yours!" as he flips the switch and it whirrs loudly to life. 

Without waiting for the man to react, Taehyung begins to tap the spinning blade against the man's elbows and the fatty bits below the pronator teres and tricep muscles, careful not to go deep enough to sever any of the veins and nerves.

The screams that come from the man are nothing short of astounding. Jeongguk dips his nitrile-clad hand into the bucket of powdered lye and pulls out enough to begin spreading over the wounds, causing the wailing and shrieking to increase.

Taehyung worries the man might pass out a little too fast if they keep this up, but the sounds are magnificent, and he loves making men walk the thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness.  

"What other plans does she have!" Taehyung shouts, and the man screws up his face, unwilling to open his eyes or look at him.  

"I don't—" the man spits, shaking his head slowly, "I don't know."

"Now is not the time to lie to me! You said she has plans for large-scale attacks! What does that mean?"

The man sobs, tears streaming down his face, and he heaves in deep breaths, appearing as if he might slowly be losing his grasp on reality. 

"She knows where you live," he mutters, head drooping low as all of his weight begins to tug on the chains around his wrists. 

Taehyung shuts off the saw and hands it over to Jeongguk, then he reaches into the pocket of his suit to grab from a stash of epinephrine pens and removes the safety cap from the end.

"Everyone knows where we live," Taehyung responds as he jabs the pen into the man's thigh and holds it in place, watching as the man jerks around and begins to scream again, appearing confused by his surroundings. 

"We could do this all night," Taehyung mutters, tossing the epinephrine aside and gripping the man by the jaw. "Tell me what she plans."

"She—" the man mutters, eyes widening before they begin to search the room as if the man has no grasp on where he is, even with the added adrenaline. 

"Fuck," Taehyung spits under his breath. 

Although an attack on their homes has always been within the realm of possibility—Ryujin lived in the mansion for years, after all—Taehyung does not like that the man brings it up. Hoseok has equipped each home with some fairly intense, high-tech firepower, but Ryujin could be expecting that. 

And if Hyungseo is the one in charge, there is no telling what their next moves might be. Taehyung needs to report back to Yoongi and Seokjin immediately. 

"Alright, well if you won't talk, I guess I will have to kill you," Taehyung says, exasperated and annoyed.

The man squeals, but he hardly seems to have any fight left in him. His skin is corroding where Jeongguk applied lye, festering with puss and blood and undoubtedly leaving behind a stench. 

Taehyung switches the saw back on, and Jeongguk pulls out the little blue scoop from the lye, holding it above the man's head. 

"May as well," Taehyung says with a shrug, and Jeongguk nods once before dumping the powder onto him. 

Soon it will mix with sweat and get into the man's eyes. Taehyung fails to think of anything more horrible to experience. 

With a yawn, Taehyung crouches and begins to hack away at the man, making him easier to dispose of later. He starts with his ankles, slicing through the material of his black slacks, which catches on the blade of the saw, yanking the man around. 

The sounds of the man screaming are drowned out partially by the pounding of Taehyung's heart in his ears, and he watches as one of the man's feet hangs on by tendons and sinew, dangling from a stump that gushes blood. 

The rest of his movements are mechanical, hacking the man at each major joint while Jeongguk uses scissors to cut away at the clothing and make it easier for him. He feels so tired suddenly—so worn down from the events of earlier—that he has half a mind to drag the man into the next room over and toss him into the cremation oven just as he is. 

Taehyung has no idea how long it takes, but by the time Jeongguk is shutting the oven door and exiting the dungeon to peel off his clothing, Taehyung feels as if he is blinking from a trance. 

He feels exhausted and disgusting. He needs to shower, and he needs to cum. 

Jeongguk helps Taehyung undress, carefully piling their clothing into a corner to be dealt with later, retrieving phones, wallets, and any other items from their pockets and carrying them in his hand. They walk through the basement in the nude, feet lightly slapping against cold white tile, and make their way to the main floor, through the foyer, up the flight of stairs, and down the hall to the master bedroom. 

Taehyung takes his phone once Jeongguk has set all the items down on a small marble table beside the bedroom door, and he shoots a text off to Seokjin and Yoongi with what little information he has. That he tried to confirm the whispered rumors, but the man hardly spoke; that the man said "she" knows where they live, but lost consciousness shortly after.

Water runs and steam pours from the ensuite, calling Taehyung like a siren's song. He tosses his phone onto the table and turns, meandering ungracefully into the bathroom. He feels the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball and let sleep claim him, but the sight of Jeongguk scrubbing the grime and blood from his perfect, tattooed body invigorates him.

Taehyung steps into the large white tiled shower and goes straight for Jeongguk, cornering him despite his limbs dripping with suds. He reaches for Jeongguk, who swats his hands away and shoves his washcloth into his grasp.

"You can touch me when you're clean, hyung," Jeongguk teases, snaking out from the corner to rinse himself.

Taehyung wastes no time squirting more soap onto the cloth and washing himself. He takes extra care to get behind his ears, and cleans his hair and face. Then he tosses the rag aside and reaches to the upper lip of the white tiles—to a space a few feet below the ceiling—where he has cloth restraints connected to a metal bolt in the corner.

"Trying to reenact the scene downstairs?" Jeongguk teases, taking his place in the corner and lifting his hands over his head.

"So fucking bratty tonight," Taehyung growls as he wraps each of Jeongguk's wrists in the restraints and closes the velcro tight. 

Taehyung keeps Jeongguk facing him, and he reaches between his legs, wasting no time prodding him open with one finger. Jeongguk squirms and squeals, getting onto his tippy toes before crashing back to his heels, over and over. 

"Lube, hyung," Jeongguk whines, and Taehyung shoves his finger in deeper. 

"What do you call me?" he grits between his teeth.

"Sir! Please!" Jeongguk whines, "F-feels good but it hurts."

Taehyung pulls his fingers away and grabs the bottle of lube that sits between his shampoo and body wash, squirting some on his fingers and setting it aside. He reaches between Jeongguk's spread thighs once more and prods with two fingers, slowly stretching him, giving him brief moments to catch his breath until he is settled knuckle-deep.

"Reassure me once more that Yoongi does not have access to heroin," Taehyung says, fixing Jeongguk with a stern look, watching as his eyes widen. 

"Sir," Jeongguk mutters, pulling on the restraints around his wrists. "Hyung, is now the right time?"

"Reassure me that you were given product in person, from someone you know. Nothing was mailed to the property? There is absolutely no way that it was a man from the Busan crew trying to get drugs into the mansion somehow?"

"Hyung!" Jeongguk responds, much more forcefully, with his brows knit. 

"I just need to be absolutely certain that our boss is safe."

"Can we talk about this later?" Jeongguk asks, eyes wide and frantic. "Since when are drug operations any of your responsibility?"

Taehyung slips his fingers from Jeongguk and takes a step back, feeling anger fizzle through him. He crashes his palm against the wet marble, sending water flying in a weak-sounding, somewhat painful slap, making Jeongguk flinch and grimace.

"Keeping our hyung alive is all our responsibility, Jeon Jeongguk!" Taehyung snaps, barely able to register the look of fear and confusion on his boyfriend's beautiful face. "If anything happens to him, I'll—"

Overcome with emotion, Taehyung slides his hand from the wall. The steam from the shower is too much, and he stumbles back, twisting to catch himself against cold tile that is not hit by the scalding stream of water. 

"You're tired, hyung. Let's fuck and go to bed, yeah?" Jeongguk suggests sweetly, shaking his restraints in wet smacks against the tile. "Or untie me and we'll talk about this." 

Taehyung takes a moment to catch his breath. Panicking over the health and safety of one man is not going to get him anywhere. Not when that man is safe in his home, sandwiched between two very clingy people who are just as determined as he is to keep him safe. The thought makes Taehyung chuckle and shake his head, coming back to himself. 

"I am tired, but first I'm going to fuck that tight little hole of yours," Taehyung says, fixing Jeongguk with a smile that he knows must appear maniacal—eyes wet and bloodshot, bearing his teeth. Nothing Jeongguk is not used to, but my, what a spectacle he must be. 

Jeongguk takes in a deep breath that comes out ragged, and Taehyung wastes no time grabbing him by the jaw with one hand while his other reaches between his thighs, pressing two fingers past the knuckle back into him. 

With a strained chorus of, "Ah, ah, ah," Jeongguk's head rolls back, sweat and condensation from the hot shower pouring down his chest, dropping from the little metal balls of his nipple rings. 

Taehyung licks from the center of his chest to his clavicle, coating his tongue in salty-sweet sweat, groaning in tandem with Jeongguk's deep, needy moan. He does not allow Jeongguk a moment to adjust, fucking his fingers deep while Jeongguk trembles and bleats out broken, desperate sounds. 

It takes no time at all to stretch him enough to get him begging, and Taehyung slicks his cock with lube, then lifts Jeongguk's leg, hooking it over his hip while pulling him into a position that is far too precarious to be doing in the shower. 

Jeongguk sighs and gasps as Taehyung presses his cock slowly, carving him open much wider than his fingers possibly could. The tight squeeze feels incredible, and Taehyung stills once he is buried deep, taking a moment to clear his head and catch his breath. 

He fucks Jeongguk slowly at first, pinching and rubbing his fingertips over pierced nipples and a pretty clavicle while his other hand holds him firmly by the hip. Jeongguk sings for him, moans and sobs echoing through the enclosed space, pitchy and broken and beautiful, driving Taehyung absolutely fucking insane. 

"Just look at you," Taehyung growls as he picks up his pace, eager to fill Jeongguk with his release. "Look at how that pretty cock bounces, untouched and leaking." 

Jeongguk whimpers and attempts to bury his face against one of his arms, but Taehyung grabs him roughly by both hips and says, "Look at me," in a stern enough voice that has Jeongguk's eyes widening, tears and water falling from his long brown lashes. 

That look alone sends Taehyung hurtling over the edge, and he fucks impossibly harder, water squelching in the spaces where their bodies meet. With one hand, he takes Jeongguk's cock and strokes it, rolling his palm over the head, just the way he likes.

"Please," Jeongguk sobs with desperate eyes, and Taehyung nods, biting his lip hard in an effort to stave off his own orgasm.  

Jeongguk cries out as he paints his tummy in release, eyes screwing momentarily shut before he opens them wide, trained after years of Taehyung forcing him to look at him while he cums. Taehyung cannot hold any longer, and he slams his cock deep, quaking from pleasure as he fills Jeongguk, gripping onto his hips tightly, desperate to never let him go. 

As Taehyung pulls out, he wraps his arms around Jeongguk and buries his face into his neck. He hates that he gets this way—so overcome with affection and love that he feels the urge to sob. 

"Thank you," he grumbles into Jeongguk's skin, then he slowly begins to reach up and undo the velcro restraints. 

"Felt good, hyung," Jeongguk mutters as his hands are freed and he is able to pull Taehyung close. "Let's get to bed."

Taehyung wants to get to bed—needs to rest his weary head and relax his tired bones. But he hugs Jeongguk close, breathing through the surge of anger and fear that spark throughout his limbs and sizzle beneath his skin.

"I won't let her hurt him," he grits through his teeth, picturing the way Yoongi was so worn down today—so unlike himself. "I won't let anyone hurt any of us."

"Shh," Jeongguk whispers softly, reaching to shut off the stream of water, making the warmth on Taehyung's skin instantly turn cold. "We won't let anything happen to anyone, hyung. We'll keep them safe."

"We'll keep them safe," Taehyung mutters in response, feeling sleep claw at him, dragging him down, down, down. It is a promise he does not take lightly. Every last person in Busan had better watch out.

*

woof, that one was a doozy! for those who don't know who Kim Hyungseo (BIBI) is, here is a palate cleanser.

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[ugh-yoongi]

Can I put in a drabble request for yoongixreader where neither of them are big on Valentine’s Day but yoongi still is romantic on the day bc he’s like the person at the store sold me on the idea for the day? (Idk if that made sense but thank you!!)

hello, you absolutely can put in this request! thank you for sending it. this was fun. <3

pairing: yoongi x reader (no pronouns used)

genre: established relationship au, fluff

warnings: swearing. mentions of alcohol. yoongi being cute in his weird little yoongi ways.

wc: 1k

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

You have a standing nine a.m. meeting on Tuesdays.

Like clockwork, Namjoon appears on camera and talks your ear off for thirty minutes about something or other, and that’s exactly what he does this morning, too. Some distributor in Europe is experiencing shipping delays, so there’s not much to catch up on because nothing’s moving, even though that’s paperwork too, so he just rocks back in his chair and says, “Doing anything fun for Valentine’s Day?”

And you pull a face, just like you always do. “No, we don’t really celebrate it,” you answer, because it’s more socially acceptable than going through your well-rehearsed Valentine’s Day is a capitalist scam bullet points.

Namjoon just hums, says something about chocolate and roses for his partner, maybe wine over a candlelit dinner, and it all sounds dreadfully uninspired.

So that’s how the rest of the day goes. You have another afternoon meeting with Jimin, who pops up on your screen wearing a headband trimmed with feathers and sequined hearts on tiny springs, and Jimin is animated, so they bobble in every direction the more excited he gets. Which—he works in human resources, so what is there to even get excited about?

By five-thirty you’re ready to log off and spend the rest of the evening on the couch. Maybe order some takeaway you’ll have to wait three times as long for and soak in a warm bath until all your skin turns pruney. You pick up your phone, halfway to texting Yoongi to see what he wants to do for dinner, when the lock turns in the front door.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, because there’s Yoongi, cheeks pink as he curses the cold, holding a suspiciously large gift wrapped in metallic red paper. “Hello,” you intone.

He gets caught up trying to toe off his sneakers and nearly brains himself on the console table. “Motherfuck,” comes his response. Then, like he’s just realizing you’d spoken, he says, “Hi, baby,” and sends you a gummy smile.

“What’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the package in his hands. “Looks an awful lot like it might be a Valentine’s Day gift.”

“It is,” he answers simply. “Do you want to open it?”

This is… not how this is supposed to go. Yoongi is arguably more of an anti-capitalist than you are. Your Yoongi would never buy you a Valentine’s Day gift. “Um.”

He takes one look at your expression—half confusion, half exasperation—and laughs. “It’s not gonna bite you.”

“Yeah, but—”

He sighs. Finally gets his sneakers sorted in the rack and waddles over, still wrapped tight in his winter coat. “But nothing. Here, open it.”

With one more questioning glance (that Yoongi promptly ignores), you take the gift from his hands. It’s heavy; feels solid, whatever it is. You pop the seams of the wrapping paper one at a time, still not convinced it’s not going to bite you, until the paper falls away to reveal a matte black box. A foot or so long, not as wide. You hear yourself gasp when you lift the lid.

Inside, there’s a gorgeous cutting board. Oiled maple, with the date of your and Yoongi’s anniversary etched into the corner. Resting on tissue paper with little hearts printed on it, for fuck’s sake. It’s almost sickening, how perfect it is. How thoughtful. How Yoongi it is, because this is his version of romance: something practical, something you’ve grumbled about needing a million times but haven’t gotten around to buying, because every time you mention getting a new cutting board Yoongi always scoffs and says, Why would I spend all that money on a cutting board when I could just make one for cheaper, and you reply, each time without fail, Have you seen the price of wood lately?

And, now, here it is. A cutting board with your anniversary etched into it, Yoongi still in his puffy jacket, looking bashful and a little embarrassed, fidgety as he awaits your reaction. “Do you hate it?” he asks. “I know we don’t really do gifts, but—”

“Min Yoongi, I am going to kick your ass.” You try to sound intimidating and Very Serious, but it comes out all waterlogged.

“Uh,” he responds, “I’m not really sure if that’s a yes or a no. Baby?”

“Of course I don’t hate it. Are you insane? Where did you even do this? When did you do this?”

He laughs, deep deep deep. Scratches at the back of his neck. “Funny story, actually. You know that weird store in the mall? The one with the ceramics and the painting and shit?” You nod; Jimin keeps trying to drag you there to get shitfaced and paint watercolors. “Yeah, well. I stopped by the mall today to buy Slam Dunk on DVD—”

“On DVD? Jesus, Yoongi, what are you, eighty years old?”

“—and some guy was standing outside trying to get people to buy shit, and I wasn’t gonna make you a fuckin’ lumpy mug, was I? So I said no, and he said come on, you look like a romantic guy, and I know he was lying and trying to get a reaction out of me, so I was like, yeah okay, but only if you have cutting boards, because you’ve been talking about getting one and I wasn’t expecting that weird fuckin’ store to have cutting boards, and then he said they did and it… just kind of spiraled.”

You’re a little stunned.

“Oh my god,” you reply. “You’re ridiculous. You’re the best. I love you. I didn’t get you anything, though.”

Yoongi shakes his head, presses a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry about it. I got the DVD set so just pay me back for it and we’ll call it even.”

“I can’t do that,” you argue. “You got me this nice, thoughtful gift—”

“Technically, I got you more, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna murder me first.”

“What—” you begin to say, but then the doorbell rings.

There’s the delivery person, bag of takeout in hand from your favorite restaurant. Behind him, another delivery person from the bougie florist across town, holding what looks like a hundred roses.

“Min Yoongi!” you yell, and Yoongi quickly thanks the people at the door and shuts it. “I will sue you!”

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

What if... you were the Kingpin and they were the detectives? Bonus chapter | BTS OT7 au

Prev

This was supposed to be a drabble... but 7.8K words later (insert facepalm here)

Warnings: stockholm syndrome? Suggestive scenes, yandere tendencies, alluded noncon (kissing)... kidnapping (depends on your perspective), smut but not smut, mentions of death, angry Hobi, angry Tae, bruises, injuries, corruption, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, control.

Playlist : Chills (Dark Version) - Mickey Valen & Joey Myron, Friends - Chase Atlantic Captain Namjoon, Detective Hyung line, Officer Maknae line

He hadn’t said a word since he entered the ward three hours ago, flipping between ignoring you or staring at you so intently you could feel the pressure of his gaze like an uncomfortable weight. There was no sign of emotion or thought on his face, unless it was anger whenever you moved or spoke. Hoseok found the whole thing amusing, wondering when the young officer was going to explode. They both sat on either side of your hospital bed, today you managed to sit up and although you wouldn’t admit it, you were thankful for the morphine that dulled the ache in your injuries. 

You glance at the detective for the umpteenth time in question when Taehyung almost growls, his eyes on the floor, his jaw clenched hard when you try to speak to him. Hobi has to fight back the laughter, how does he tell you Tae was punishing you in his own way for your recklessness. Not allowing himself to talk to you was a punishment for himself too, for the fact they could’ve been too late. He exhales through his nose harshly, you swore there was steam.

“Okay seriously what is your problem?” Your voice was still hoarse, but it had only been a day since you woke from the attack and after three hours of his petulant behaviour, you had enough. You tried being patient but being stuck here because of them wasn’t making patience your strongest suit. “Seriously, I didn’t ask to be he-”

You almost choke on your words as they fly back down your throat at his glare. Coward, a small voice inside of you mocks, but even behind that voice you could feel the undertone of weariness. You’re so glad your men can’t see you now, although you’re not sure they’d survive a second of Kim Taehyung’s wrath themselves.

You break eye contact first with a scoff, trying to build back your authority in a situation where it didn’t matter. If one of your underlings looked at you like that, he would have a bullet in each eye no questions asked. This Officer was seriously pushing you to your limits. Fine, if he wanted to behave like a two year old for no good reason, you’d ignore his little pathetic display. 

Hobi watches your jaw clench in anger, finding the silent fight between you and your expression amusing. 

“Can you get your ridiculous Captain on the phone?” You say to Hoseok without glancing at him, your attention spent on flicking aggressively through a magazine. 

“Why little love, are you upset he hasn’t come to visit?”

You scoff again but he swears he can see you try to hide a sense of embarrassment from your features. Maybe he hit the mark, Namjoon would be pleased to hear of it. 

“I’d like to know how much longer I’m going to be serving my sentence for,” you roll your eyes, every word containing a spiteful bite despite the weakness in your voice.

“He’s busy,” Hoseok disregards the comment entirely, eyes on his own book although he hadn’t read a word since arriving. Why would you want to leave? Did Jackson hit you so hard in the head you forgot what happened? The sound of kissing teeth makes you glance at Taehyung, narrowing your eyes at him before you now give the older male your attention. 

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Here.”

Hoseok’s eyes darken as they find you, he leans closer, rising from his chair until his face was in front of yours. 

“I. Don’t. Care,” he says with as much conviction as you had, his tone dead serious, warning you not to challenge him but you were always one to defy those who tried to control you. Your shocked face contorts into anger. 

“Fuck this,” you mutter, shoving the bed sheets off you as you swing your legs down. As you’re about to rip the IV from your arm, a grip on wrists stops you. Hoseok’s face is blank when you stare daggers into it. 

“Have you looked in the mirror?” There’s a weight in his voice that you had never heard before, his amused veil wiped bare to reveal his true disposition. His eyes glance down at the bruises he tried to ignore until he was forced to acknowledge them. He tried to keep the atmosphere light since his arrival since you were recovering, but of course your bratty nature would force his hand. 

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you snap back, breaking your wrist out of his hold since his grasp slackened at your words. It cut him, to think of you getting hurt and they were unaware of you suffering alone. 

“You’ll leave when you’re better,” he says, signalling that it was the end of the argument but you could never just let things be, not when the control was out of your hands. 

“I’ll leave when I want to.”

He closes his eyes for a second after he watches you rip the IV out of your arm, trying to control the surge of anger and disappointment. You were lashing out, that was all, he would have to exercise his patience. 

You move too fast, forgetting your own condition as you jump off the bed. Or maybe it was the drugs that had dulled your senses including common sense and reason. Whatever it was, its magic didn’t last long, you stumble pitifully when you try to stomp away, trying to hold yourself up proudly until a stabbing pain in your side forces you to crumble.  

“Can you stop!” 

You’re held up against his chest as he glances down at your now bleeding wound, the movement having pulled your stitches apart. You’re dizzy, looking up at the swaying figure of Taehyung, or was the room spinning? He seemed solid, the rest of the world moving in circles around you. Finally, he spoke to you. You don’t realise you’ve sighed in relief, staring up at him. He could give you his scolding expression all he wanted, you just wanted to hear his voice. 

You don’t fight him when he takes you back to the bed, ranting loudly with so much aggression even when Hoseok grabs the doctor to close your opened stitches. He holds your hand as they work on you, even as he hurls furious words at you. 

“Why are you so stupidly stubborn? Stop behaving like a brat! You’re acting like we’re keeping you here for the sake of it, like we enjoy seeing you like this,” behind the anger you can hear the hurt, the sadness hiding behind the rumbling deep tone. “How many times do you need to nearly die before you realise you’re not invincible!”

You didn’t say a word, taking every stab of his complaints, squeezing his hand when the needle pierced your skin. He stops then, kissing your hand a hundred times through the pain. It’s only when the doctor leaves he hides his expression behind your clasped hand, his head bowed low so his hair covers his eyes. He’s still, too still. 

“You looked like you were dead,” his voice breaks and you can hear the tears before you feel them on your skin. 

You must look like a deer in headlights when he meets your gaze again, unable to comprehend he was crying over this. The others hadn’t so you just never expected him to, or considered he would. 

He sniffs, his tears flowing freely and he doesn’t stop them. You don’t know why you feel compelled to, but you wipe them away with the hand he wasn’t holding, reaching over carefully. He nuzzles into your hand, seeking comfort after revealing his vulnerabilities, bringing the other hand to his other cheek. 

“Don’t do it again,” he scolds you as harshly as he can before he starts sobbing. You watch him breakdown between your hands, the sight gripping your heart in a way you weren’t familiar with. It made you ache, you actually felt like apologising but the words were stuck on the tip of your tongue, your stubborn pride refusing to let them out. 

“Come here,” you say softly instead, shuffling carefully back to make room for him. He doesn’t hesitate, crawling into your arms quickly like he craved to be held. You play with his hair when he presses his face into your chest, his arms wrapping around you tentatively, aware not to hold you as tight as he wanted. You hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart started beating, or the rate it was galloping at as a reaction to his proximity.

Just as you’re trying to calm down, you’re startled by Hoseok pulling your other arm around the officer, so you were comforting him properly. 

“Taehyung be careful,” he warns, before leaving you both alone for a moment. He needed to update the others on your behaviour and the consequences of it anyway. They weren’t going to be impressed to say the least. 

“I wasn’t there,” he breathes, his lips coming away from your chest so you can hear him, but his forehead and eyes still nuzzled there as he relived it. “I just saw you being carried out like a body.”

He shudders against you, the onslaught of tears making it harder to get his words out. He thought he was going to have to plan your funeral, the thought plunged him into a deep abyss he was still crawling out of.

“Do you know how long we were waiting for you to wake up?” He cries, “We didn’t leave your side until Namjoon hyung forced us too, when they said you were stable, but I didn’t believe them.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you blink them back fast, it wasn’t the situation that caused them to water but the raw heartbreak in his voice. 

“I just kept thinking, what if they were lying? What if you didn’t wake up?”

He remembers how Jimin and Jungkook had to drag him out on the Captain’s orders, as he begged them to not make him leave you. No one gave into his tears, not the detectives, not his fellow officers. Safe to say he didn’t talk to anyone until now. He wouldn’t forgive them for taking him away from you either. 

—

It had been a week… you were going crazy. The only human contact you had, if you could call them human, were your police officer turned babysitting bodyguards. Or the hospital staff that didn’t say a word to you. You tried a couple of times to make conversation, but they all glanced with worry at the men blocking your exit and discharge which made things clear enough. Hell, you had done similar things in your line of work, but it was still odd to be the one stuck in the cage rather than the one with the key. 

You watch the clock on the wall turn to 8, something about it both soothed and irritated you. The fact time was moving, there was proof of it, but you were stuck in the same loop of a day over and over again. 

“Love, you need to eat a little more or Jin hyung’s going to kill me tomorrow,” Yoongi sighs as he watches you pace the room, Jungkook standing at the door way poised and ready to catch you if you try to run… again. 

You had to stop underestimating them, it was what foiled your plans over and over. So you look at the facts, for some reason these men were interested in you. And the one thing they wanted from you so far, that you could tell, was your attention. They seemed to crave it in fact… So what if you gave in? 

You already tried fighting your way out which proved useless in your current state, especially when there were two of them and only one feeble mess of you. So the seduction tactic it was, it was a bit outdated for your liking but a classic foolproof method nonetheless. 

Jungkook and Yoongi watch the furrow of your brows as you stare at the floor with your pacing, like the answer to your escape was written there and you were reading intently. They could see a scheme form behind your eyes, already sighing internally for the next fight. Yoongi was so close to just lacing your IV with something to get you to settle the fuck down, as much as he loved your antics on a normal day, he didn’t appreciate them when they were slowing your recovery.

Jungkook on the other hand didn’t mind your prison break attempts, he took it as a little game you played with them, like a grown up version of kiss chase. And sure enough, every time he caught you he would kiss you, getting bolder each time he did.  

“I’m not hungry for food,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. You were hungry for freedom.

“If you eat a little, we can go out for a while, how about a walk in the park?” Yoongi suggests innocently. Did he seriously expect you to take the bait? Your eyes narrow, giving him the side eye as you pace past him, that was not going to work twice Min Yoongi. 

He bites his lips to stop from chuckling too loudly, he knew you wouldn’t fall for that again, he just wanted a reaction from you. 

You stop your pacing with a sigh, head tilting back as you groan out your frustration, before you turn your gaze to the guard puppy blocking the door. 

“I don’t know why you’re standing there like a prison guard,” you scoff in disbelief. “As if I’m going to outrun you in this state.”

Jungkook tilts his head, a distrusting look in his eyes as he takes in your nonchalance. 

“You’ve tried ten times before, and opened your stitches twice.”

You roll your eyes again, who was keeping count? But that was the opening you were looking for. 

“Maybe I just like getting caught,” you shrug, taking a step towards him. You see his jaws slacken as he gets caught in your suggestive stare, like a doe in headlights. His gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Or maybe I like being punished.”

He watches your eyes travel down the length of him, his blood following until there's none left in his head, it makes him fuzzy, his every focus on you. Your gaze is slow to move up to his face, as if you were savouring the tone of his body and every muscle he had to offer you. There’s a dare in your eyes, you haven’t closed the distance between you, you were making him do it. 

“Come on Kookie,” you tease, watching his eyes glaze over at the pet name and how sweetly you called for him. “Are you going to keep making a girl run for your attention?”

You tilt your head to the side, grinning as you hum in question. You turn to Yoongi, manspread on the chair like an invitation. His tongue peeking out to wet his lips when you look at him, hooded eyes shamelessly checking you out, calling you to him. He grins, shaking his head softly. He knew exactly what you were doing, the younger officer did too, he just didn’t care. 

“Maybe I should just play with Yoongi instead.”

You bite your lips to stop yourself from chuckling as Jungkook finally moves towards you. You’re engulfed in him in a second, his palm on the back of your head as his lips find yours urgently. He moans deep into your soul when you reciprocate, you hadn’t done that before and it made him want to lose all thought and reason. The hand on your waist squeezes tightly, like he was checking you were real, this was real and not another wet dream. He groans against your lips again, not coming away from you for a second to breathe, this was so much better than anything he could have imagined, the taste of you on his tongue, he always craved it and now he was never going to let it go. 

“Jungkook, you’re both recovering, slow down,” Yoongi mumbles, trying not to sound affected as he watched you both, his expression bored but the way his fingers dug into his thighs would give him away if you looked at him.

His words take a second to sink in, a frown on your face as you tear away from the maknae, a needy whimper escaping his lips as they try to follow yours but you push him back. Your attention snaps to Yoongi instead, holding the desperate man at arms length while he tries to fight the space between you away.

“What do you mean by both recovering?”

He doesn’t answer. You look at Jungkook with accusing eyes, fire in them that makes him look at you with a pout. He hadn’t been listening, why were you suddenly so upset? 

“I asked you if you were hurt,” you grit your teeth, trying to contain the rage that ignited in your chest. He denied it, you remember, or had he avoided giving you a direct answer? His limbs have settled by his side, watching you tentatively with his doe eyes, like a child being scolded.

You tug his top up, revealing his abs but you can’t admire them when they're covered in bruises. Faded, but still there, even after a week. Your mind flashes back to that night, remembering how badly he got hit, of course he was going to be injured and yet the idiot behaved like he was fine. You were set like a volcano ready to erupt, burning rage on the tip of your tongue ready to set him alight but he beats you to it. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” his eyes gloss over as he says it, a sad pout defusing the bomb that was a millisecond away from exploding, your anger fizzling out when he looked at you so pitifully. Your gaze falls back to his wounds, trying to understand why it affected you so much. Your men have died for you before, and while it was upsetting, it was also their jobs. These 7 men that have infiltrated your life have no ties to you, but they saved you that day. 

“Stop getting hurt for me,” you mumble, your finger tracing around the bruise, avoiding his eyes completely. 

“Never,” Jungkook promises proudly, taking your hand away from his injuries, kissing them as he admired the way you tried to avoid his gaze. “I’d give my life for you, little love.”

You roll your eyes as if he were joking, but you could hear how sincere his tone was, and it scared the shit out of you. You seriously needed to get your wits about you and leave.

“Sit on the bed,” you tell him too softly for it to be a command. He does as he’s told without letting go of your hand, pulling you along with him as he sits in front of you. 

“Shuffle back,” you tell him, and he does, eyes looking up at you like saucers when you straddle him, your fingers on the nape of his neck. You tug his head back by his hair, his adam apple bobbing again at the change in tension, but this time it was within your reach. You never found a man’s throat so sexy before. You press your lips to it, grinning when he openly moaned at such a small action. His hands find your hips, gripping so tightly you wondered if you were going to get matching bruises. 

You kiss his jugular, biting softly before chuckling when he swears with a groan, trying to ground himself but he was past intoxicated when it came to you. 

“I want this off sweetie,” you tug his top again, whispering in his ear like it was a dirty secret. 

He fumbles to take his top off in a hurry, afraid you could change your mind any minute, the fabric brushing his hair into a mess. The sight has you stifling your own sounds, but what has your arousal dripping is the look in his eyes. He looked drunk, his droopy eyes trying so hard to stay open and take you in but wanting to close so he could savour each feeling you were giving him. 

You peck his lips, and he keeps them pursed for you, asking for another. You smirk, kissing the corner of his mouth, giving him a little of what he wants before working your way down his neck, finding the junction where his broad shoulders began. 

“Oh f-fuck-”

His hands pull you flush against him when you start sucking on the skin, swipes of your tongue cooling the sting of each bite. He starts rutting his hips up like a reflex, he whines like he’s begging for you, wordless but the desperation is there loud and clear. 

You hold back your own sounds of approval when you feel his length pressing and brushing against all the right places despite the clothes between you. You could lose yourself to this, but you try to keep your head clear, even if every sound coming from his lips made you want to fuck him on the damn bed, be damned if anyone sees or hears. Your fingers find his hair again, tugging it back harshly to ground yourself.

You hear a chuckle beside the debauchery you were making, almost forgetting about the feline eyes watching you. He glances at the string of saliva still connecting you both when you pull away, swallowing air to keep himself composed when he meets the raw carnal energy in your eyes while the man under you stuck his head into your breasts, unable to handle being so far apart. You stroke the back of his head with a laugh, your stare still on Min Yoongi like you were going to pounce on him too, and he hopes to hell you are. 

“You scared away all the staff,” he comments, gesturing to the glass doors of the ward. You have to bite back the grin of victory when you confirm his words, keeping your wits about you. There were still a few people from what you could gather, but you could deal with that. 

“Hmmm,” you acknowledge as if the news meant nothing to you, looking the detective dead in the eye, “it’s your own private show Yoongi.”

You watch the way he rubs his thigh, eyes on the tent in his jeans that look uncomfortable. 

“Or were you hoping for a part,” you mumble, gaze fixed on his length as your mouth watered. You exhale slowly, how touch deprived were you, when all you could think about was putting him in your mouth. “Turn off the light Yoongi, I don’t want you to arrest me for indecent exposure.”

He chuckles, happily turning off the lights with the switches next to him without taking his eyes off you. The message in them was clear, your move.  

Jungkook claws at your thighs when you start to climb off him, a series of disapproving jumbled nonsense tumbling out of his mouth.

“N-no Noon-a sstay,” his arm pushes your chest against his, locking you against him as he tries to kiss you again, lips clumsy but passionate as they find yours. He hums into your mouth like he had a craving fixed, losing himself to the sensation. Your hand finds his throat, squeezing around the skin it could cover. His lips part in a groan, clouded eyes staring into your own. He gulps, you can feel the movement against your palm, pushing him back until his lips were only grazing yours.  

“If you want me,” you whisper. “You have to behave.”

He shakes his head desperately when you start to move away from him again.

“Be good for me Kookie, come on,” you try to placate him, pulling on his belt, “take these off for me while I go look after your hyung, okay?”

Yoongi’s surprised by how he listens to your soft instructions, but he can’t focus on that when you're striding towards him. For a second he really wants to give into this, believe that this wasn’t a scheme and you were accepting their affection for you. But he knows better. That didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge a little. 

He bites his lips when your hooded eyes look down on him, taking in his pretty features with a smile. You lean down, a hand on the armrest beside his own to support yourself, fingers of your other hand softly stroking his hair back as he tilts his head to look up at you, your faces inches from each other. You look like you’re admiring him, your gaze flickering across his face as you take him in. You trace his cheek, the slow process making his hands clutch the arm rests as he holds himself back. He wanted you to kiss him too, but he wanted it to be your choice, for you to make the first move and claim him. He wanted his love to be reciprocated, for real, but he’d take this illusion for now. 

“You’re so pretty Yoongi,” you whisper sincerely, your gaze on his lips as your thumb brushes where he had bitten. 

He thinks it’s a dream when you finally close the distance, differently to what you had with Jungkook, your lips soft against his. You pull away too soon but he lets you, your eyes searching his for something, whatever it was he’d give it to you, whatever you wanted. His hand holds onto the back of your thigh, as if he was scared you would pull away too far. 

“Do you know how often I would get into trouble, hoping I would find myself in an interrogation room with you,” you confess with a smile, it reaches your eyes, little creases under them where your cheeks fill. He looks for the lie in your features, and either you were too good at it for him to spot your tell, or you were giving him the truth he longed for. 

“Is that why you would grin so happily when I walked in little love,” he smirks but it turns into a gummy smile when you nod emphatically. 

“I wanted to see my pretty detective,” your eyes glance down at his lips again. His smile fades, his mouth parted as the term repeats in his head, stuck in a loop like his favourite song. Your detective…. Your pretty detective. 

If you were playing him you were doing it a little too well, like you knew exactly what they wanted to hear, what would make them lose their minds to their dicks. 

“Let me see my pretty detective Yoongi,” you croon to him, hand on the button of his jeans, undoing it slowly while maintaining eye contact. 

You kiss him again, more urgently this time, fingers pulling down his zipper, brushing against his cock. His hips jut at the sensation, his blood pounding in his head threatening to cut off all sense if he didn’t pull himself together. His hand wraps around your wrist to stop you moving any further, but he keeps kissing you, more fervently not wanting to cut you off completely, just enough to keep an ounce of his wavering sanity and control. 

He lets you pull away for breath, leaning your forehead against his as you try to fill your lungs. 

“You’re still dressed love,” he comments, the insinuation in his voice clear. He loved you, but he didn’t trust you. 

You giggle, and his lips lift at the sound, revealing to you just how whipped he really was. It was okay if he didn’t trust you, you didn’t need his trust right now.

“Should we fix that?” You ask, he lets you go as you take a step back. You wiggle your hips a little, laughing when you hear a frustrated groan come from the bed. You’re thankful Jungkook still has his boxers on when you sneak a peek at his figure, the light from the corridor enough for you to see him, but still making it dark enough that navigating in the room would be difficult. His eyes don’t leave you as he lays on the bed, wanting you to straddle him again. That was one boy in position. One last thing left to do. 

“Shall we all do it together?” you suggest playfully, hoping they’d take the bait. It was such a shame you couldn’t indulge them all the way, maybe another day. 

Your fingers play with the hem of your top, pulling it up slowly to reveal your skin. Both men watch intently, brains running blanks.

“Come on,” you push, pausing with the material bunching under your boobs. You pull it up a fraction, the lace of your bra did little to cover your skin. You were annoyed at the selection they brought to the hospital for your stay, calling the perverts out, but it had its uses now you admit. 

“Kookie take your boxers off, Yoongi your jeans,” you instruct them carefully, “I don’t beg boys, be good for me please.” 

The statement was contradictory, you knew, but it worked. Jungkook fumbles on the bed, trying to take his boxers off clumsily. The cool detective finally gives in, pulling his jeans down. The second they’re at his ankles, you make a run for it.

For the first time in all your escape attempts you actually make it out the door, but there’s no time for victory, you don’t think it'll take them long to put some form of clothing back on and chase you. Even still you couldn’t help the glee on your face, that is, until you’re lifted in the air much quicker than you had anticipated. 

What the fuck? You try to look behind you at who the culprit was, catching a glimpse of a very naked Jeon Jungkook on a reflective surface, face burning as you realise he really did run after you in his birthday suit. Damn… you hadn’t accounted for that, not when there were still some nurses and ward clerks around. Wow, he really had no shame. 

You know he’s pissed when you can see all the veins protruding out of his arms where he held onto you, the pressure making it hard to breathe. You still try to kick out of his grasp, but he doesn’t seem phased as he walks back into the empty ward. Unceremoniously you’re chucked on the bed, two sets of disappointed and glaring eyes on your form clearly despite the darkness. 

“I was wondering when that was going to happen,” Yoongi states as he zips his jeans, letting you know, you didn’t have them fooled for a second. 

“I was hoping she would wait until after the fun,” Jungkook grumbles, still very much naked you realise. You look away before it pulls your attention, chest beating hard as you stay quiet. 

Well that was definitely fun, but your plan was foiled. 

“I trust you realise what you’ve started, little love,” Yoongi chuckles, returning to his original position in the chair like nothing happened. “When the others hear about this… they might not be able to hold back.”

He laughs when your head snaps toward him, eyes begging for him to not say a word or you were going to have hell to deal with when the rest of them demanded your attention. Oh you had royally fucked up… You could already hear exactly what they were going to say, the way they would whine and complain until you gave in. 

You still had no idea how long this prison sentence was going to last, and you had inadvertently made things so much worse for yourself. 

—

“Good morning little love!” Jin says extra loudly, waking Jungkook from his slumber in the chair, his body leaned over so his head was in your lap. The boy must’ve been uncomfortable in that position but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Jin,” you greet him curtly, but your heart was already beating wildly in anticipation. You eye him cautiously, trying to hold onto your mask.

Jin had… his own ways to try and heal you. And he swore they were working, which is why he didn’t let up, not listening to reason when you argued you were naturally healing and his hocus pocus physical therapy was bullshit. He didn’t even wait for Yoongi and Jungkook to leave, already climbing onto the bed with no hesitation, the pair chuckling in amusement as you try to hide your embarrassment, the magazine you were pretending to read held higher to cover your face. Your shield gets snatched away from you, the detective giving you a stern look before an expectant one, his eyebrow rising when you didn’t rush into position for him. 

You gulp, trying your best to stubbornly glare at him. 

“What is he doing?” Yoongi mutters to Jimin, intrigued by the staring match you both had going on. 

“Hyung's new medical treatment,” Jimin snickers with a wide grin, finding the whole situation entertaining as he sat beside the bed where Yoongi previously was. 

“Love,” Jin says patiently, ignoring the conversation. “Lie down.”

The change in his eyes is what has you almost listening before you catch yourself. That soft look that turned dark with the promise he would bend you into behaving like you were a puppet on string. 

“Pervert,” you mumble, looking away with an eye roll to hide the fact you could physically no longer keep your gaze on the man, effectively forfeiting the staring match. 

You hear him sigh, but refuse to see his expression, crossing your arms in complete defiance. 

“Yah, can you two hurry and leave,” he huffs at you previous babysitters, “little love’s feeling shy with you both here.”

Yoongi grins smugly as Jungkook laughs before smirking wickedly. 

“I don’t think that’s it hyung,” Yoongi teases, gummy teeth on show as you send him a warning glare. “You didn’t see our darling last night.”

“Ahem,” Jungkook clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, before complaining rather dramatically, “my neck’s feeling a bit itchy.”

He pulls down his neck line of his top, pretending to scratch the skin, baring his neck to his audience so no one could miss the mark you left. He smiles gleefully, looking innocent despite his intentions. You actually facepalm, ears starting to burn at his antics, especially in front of Jin who now was eerily quiet. You were maybe slightly possibly too intimidated to look? You were the scary mafia boss outside of these walls, but completely at their mercy in these circumstances… as much as you hated it, that was the truth to your current predicament, and you were slowly learning to accept it. 

“I want one,” Jimin whines, tugging at your arm, pulling your hand away from your face, leaving you uncovered. Well here was karma…

“I think we should leave now Love,” Yoongi sounds too impressed with himself, especially as you scowl at him. 

“Have fun with the hyungs,” Jungkook laughs evilly, enjoying the mess he was leaving you to clean up after your antics last night.

You watch them leave, wanting to follow them. Why couldn’t they take you with them, you were feeling so much better, why were they holding you hostage here, just to torture you with their attention. 

“Heaven, I think you should lie down now,” Jimin suggests, his eyes on Jin while yours still couldn’t meet him. You dare a glance, finding the man in question staring a hole into your skull. 

“Lie down,” he commands before adding, “now.”

The younger of the two giggles at the pout you wear when you finally give in, of course rolling your eyes before you do. He sits more comfortably, waiting for the show to begin, his right foot coming to rest on his left thigh, his right elbow on his knee, resting his jaw in his palm as he leaned close to you. You could see the amusement in his eyes as they turned into happy crescents at your misfortune. 

Jin lies on top of you as if it was the most natural normal thing in the world, you stare intensely at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than how touch starved you were, close to diagnosing yourself with Stockholm syndrome. That must be it, why you actually liked feeling his weight along your torso, it was because you were stuck here with limited exposure to actual human beings and not these crack cases. 

There’s a second of anticipation that has you fighting the urge to squirm until finally his lips press against your throat. You feel him smile at the sharp intake of breath through your lips, your fingers desperately playing with the sheets to stop yourself from touching him anymore than you already were. He works on the bruises there slowly, inspecting them closely, noting with a pleased hum that they were fading. He doesn’t tell you he can feel your heart thumping against him, even though he wants to tease you about it. He pulls away from you just enough to inspect your face, chuckling under his breath at how intently you were staring at nothing. He sends Jimin a look before diving back into your neck, resuming his slow paced kissing. 

You feel fingers on your cheek, little caresses calling your attention, tilting your head to look at the officer gazing down on you with his full attention. He smiles when your eyes fall on him, his own heart racing. He still can’t believe he has you here, in his reach, where you can’t pull away. 

“Your bruises are fading little love,” Jimin states airily, watching your dilated eyes, wanting nothing more than to drown in them. “Hyung’s technique must be working.”

Normally you would scoff, you would deny it with so much passion and conviction it would hurt them, but you don’t even muster an eye roll. He can see the fight in your eyes simmer to nothing, a softness in them he rarely was privileged to see.

And then you take the sight away from him but he doesn’t mind when it comes with a small whine, your eyes closed, head tilting back as you try to hold the sound back. Jimin’s other hand claws into his leg, unable to handle the way his blood suddenly pumped south. 

“I thought you were meant to heal the marks, not make more,” you call Jin out, trying to sound put together but it still comes out slightly breathless. 

He lets out a guilty chuckle, although he feels no apology for his actions when you react like that. He can feel you tense when he does it again, his parted lips sucking on your skin, his tongue painting you. Finally your hands press against his arms, as if you were pushing him back, but there’s no force behind it. He doesn’t think you realise you’re holding your breath, only releasing it when your lungs force you to. 

You couldn’t ground yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You hated feeling vulnerable and these so called police officers were peeling your thick skin back layer by layer until they got to see every inch of you. And the worst part of it was you wanted to give in. 

A shrill ring makes you both jump, Jin finally pulling away from you when the noise is followed by vibrations felt in your legs. He groans in resentment at the interruption, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he climbs out of the bed. 

It takes you a second to get your bearings back, your eyes wandering to Jimin who’s stare hasn’t broken despite the rude interlude to his favourite show. Your skin tingles at his gaze, a weird mix of soft intensity in them making that vulnerable feeling increase tenfold. 

“Yah why do you pick the wrong times to call?” Jin seethes through the phone, looking over at you as he speaks. With both sets of eyes on you still lying down, you felt your limbs gear into motion, sitting up and pushing your embarrassment out of existence. You seriously needed to get out of here before you lost all shred of your dignity and pride. How were you going to face your men and lead them into criminal chaos after this? Who knows what was happening to your empire when you were stuck here playing some sick game of house. 

Jin sighs through the phone, walking over to you and holding it out or you to take. 

“It’s for you,” he grumbles, pacing the room when you take it from him. 

One look at caller ID has your nerves on edge, little butterflies in your stomach that you shoot down one by one. 

“Nice of you to visit your favourite criminal,” you say in place of greeting, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t even send me flowers, but it’s so good of you to call.”

“Yoongi tells me you’re misbehaving, little love,” he says through the line, revealing why he was prompted to call at all. “Can’t you behave just this once, for me?”

Your heart thumped so hard at his voice you’re sure Jimin and Jin heard it going off the sudden smirks on their faces, or maybe it was the look on your face you were now schooling. You swallow before answering, berating yourself for reacting. It was always your bad behaviour that made the Captain pay you any attention you realise, what you were going to do with that information, you didn’t know just yet. 

“I’d like to see you try to make me behave, Captain Kim,” You challenge. “Come and give it a go, I’d like to see you fail.”

He chuckles, the sound making you want to smile too but you fight it. 

“Are you missing me that much Love?” 

The audacity and confidence in his tone makes you want to deny it outright. If you were, you would take that confession to the grave. 

“Mmmm I’ll show you just how much if you agree to let me go,” you tease through the line, watching Jimin bite his lips at your tone. “Come on, you can’t be that concerned if you send your underlings to do your dirty work.”

“Did she just call us underlings?” Jin spits comically but outraged, eyes turning into angry saucers as he starts ranting at Jimin about your ungratefulness. 

Namjoon turns quiet, it has your confidence faltering, eyes on your bed sheets as you pick at a nonexistent stray thread. Insecurity was a new feeling, and you didn’t like it. You didn’t even know why it reared its head, but something was forcing you to gain his reassurance. 

“You really have no idea, do you?” he breathes through the line after what feels like a lifetime. “Be patient love, I’ll show you just how concerned I am.”

“Promise?” You try to sound like you were joking, your inner voice berating you for behaving so weakly, but you blamed it on being stuck in this place. It was a side effect of your current situation, you weren’t in your throne right now, you were recovering and it wasn’t just your body that needed healing. 

“I promise,” the deep timbre of his voice that could rival Taehyung’s made your heart flutter against your wishes. “Now be good.”

“I can’t guarantee it,” you reply, feeling the end of the conversation nearing, and you didn’t want it to. 

He chuckles again unsurprised, and you wish he was here for you to witness it. 

“I have to go, little love,” he says, knowing exactly what you were doing. 

“So go,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. “Who’s stopping you? I’m a busy woman anyway, running an empire and all- oh wait no, I’m stuck here.”

Your eyes narrow as if he could see you, hoping you filled your voice with enough venom to cover your previous vulnerability. 

“Well since you’re recovering so well I guess we can give you a reward,” he states. “Leave it with me, I can’t have your empire crumbling, you would never forgive me.”

“Or just let me leave.”

“No.”

You huff, passing the phone back to Jin without a goodbye, turning away from them, trying to conceal the fact that your heart ached for reasons unknown to even yourself. 

—

You’re asleep when Namjoon steps through the ward doors, the lights are all off, only the dim hum of them peered through from the corridor but he could see your figure perfectly. Taehyung was asleep beside you, it both warmed his heart and struck a chord of jealousy in him, watching the officer holding you so tightly against his chest, slotting behind you perfectly. Yoongi doesn’t say a word in greeting, just nodding from his chair to acknowledge the new presence, his arms crossed as he stayed guard. 

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Yoongi whispers his discontent as Namjoon’s thumb brushes against your temple and cheek, watching you breath with a silent fondness. 

He only gives the older male a look, not piercing but a testament to his decision being final. He leaves his gift on the bedside table, turning away from you to leave while he still could. He had been away from you for too long, the abstinence carved a cavity in his chest but he had little choice in the matter. 

The higher ups were watching him, he still had an inquiry about that night, covering it up was proving to be more difficult than he hoped. Not to mention the bribes he was pulling to make the matter go away, he barely had time to eat in the day or sleep at night, but it would all be worth it when it was over and dealt with. 

Yoongi watches him leave, noting the tiredness in his eyes, the slouch in his form, glad that their Captain was handling it and trusting him completely that he would. The worst case scenario running through their minds was imprisonment, they barely could keep tabs on you in the world. How were they meant to, if you were stuck in one site, and they were chained away in another?

His eyes fall on you, the peace in your features as you sleep. They would never let it come to that. In his peripherals, Namjoon’s ‘gift’ catches his attention again, the detective almost scowling at it. Your phone taunted him with the reminders of what came with it, they just took you away from the dangers of that life, why was Namjoon letting you handle your business when the only thing you should be focusing on is rest. He grumbles to himself. At least it would make you happier in the morning.

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[phenomenalgirl9]

Kim Namjoon x Reader: Delicate

Summary: That time when Y/n turned up onto Namjoon's door all tattered and bloody.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Y/n (Mafia au)

A/n: I literally got the idea of the whole plot while playing Dishonoured. 😂

W/c: 1.7k

Genre: crime (?).

Warning: mentions of blood, murder, fighting, bullets.

Rating: 15+ (read with your own caution)

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This ain't for the best, My reputation's never been worse, so, You must like me for me. 

“Seriously Joon again?” You smiled as you traced his jawline, while looking deep into his eyes, almost losing yourself in them. You swear you noticed him glaced at your brightly red painted lips, more than once. Oh how you wished you could place yours on his. Feel those plump lips against yours. 

“Won't you introduce your friends?” You smiled looking at the younger guy, his features kinda reminded you of a bunny. You put a finger below his chin and picked up his face his big eyes looking at you. “You have really pretty eyes” You said, with that same smile. 

“Don't touch him!” Namjoon growled from where he was held in a headlock by your bodyguard Hyungwon was holding him as Seungcheol, your other body guard held the other guy, Namjoon tried to fight and shake him off but well, Hyungwon was equally well trained. 

“Aww. Don't worry he's not even my type” you said as you came back to your old position in front of him “But Joon, did you seriously think you could plant a mole in MY people and I wouldn't know? Why are you after me or rather us anyway, we didn't even do anything bad. Y/n really has been” you paused and moved a bit closer to his ears and whispered “a good girl” and smirked to see him almost shiver for a second because he caught back his composer. 

“You know, Officer Namjoon, it looks really bad” you said and walked back to your revolving chair and sat on it. “Some might even say you're obsessed with me” you said and Namjoon scoffed. 

“What do you want? And its Detective now” He growled. “Oh yeah you got promoted, right? And what do I want? I want to run my business, complete my mission, then spend the rest of my life in Skiathos or Skopelos” you said, upon seeing the confusion on the other officer's face you add, “Islands in Greece, beautiful places”. 

----------------------------------------------------

Sometimes I wonder; when you sleep, Are you ever dreaming of me? 

Namjoon frowned when he heard a knock on the door, well, one followed by 5 more. He shut his book placing the pagemark and walked to the front gate. His eyes shot big in shock upon opening the gate. There you stood, your hair matted, your white shirt stained with dirt and blood. With one look he knew you were bleeding from your waist and your arm, scratches on your forehead and cheek and your knees are scrapped, its a wonder you could walk. 

“I didn't know where else to go” you said, for the second time since he first saw you all those years ago he saw tears in your eyes. Those pretty lips of yours that you painted red, looked more red cause of blood, which was also  trickling down the corners. “Were you followed?” He asked as he glanced around and you shook your head, leaning harder on the wall as you could hold yourself up anymore. Namjoon grabbed the arm that wasn't hurt and slowly brought you in and closed the door. He settled you on the couch as you groaned in pain. He rushed to the windows to check gor any threats as he dialed his roommate on his phone. 

“Jin? Please rush back… I know but it's urgent, bring anything you might need for bullet wounds and don't speak a word of this” he said and hung up. Finally the fatigue caught up to you and Your eyelids started closing. 

“Hey, hey” Namjoon immediately rushed to you and lightly tapped your cheek to keep you from sleeping. “Stay with me, talk to me” he said. This was the second time ever that you've seen concern in his eyes, for you. “They're all dead, all. I didn't do it” you said and the tears started rolling down again. “Who? What happened?” He asked and you started saying. “Today should have been the day the Chois paid for what they did, Choi Taejoon paid for his crimes. But our plan was never to kill him, I wanted to get a confession out of him and get back the winery! My family's heritage winery that he stole back then! But-but, when w-we reached we were ambushed, Choi was already dead in his cabin. So many of my men were killed, a few could be saved” you said as you groaned in pain “Hyung-hyungwon, took a bullet to help me run. Those men were all in dark maroon shirts and black trousers. Like the Lee family’s men” you said. Right then Seokjin rushed into the apartment. “Oh god! That's-”Jin lipsed. “It's Y/n, please treat her, she's bled a lot” Namjoon said. “Can you, um” Jin pointed at your shirt. You nodded and tried opening it with one arm and failed, leading to Namjoon helping you. Your breath hitched with each button. His eyes shone as house skin was getting exposed. “It's filthy, remove it and prepare fresh clothes” Jin said, nonchalantly. Namjoon took a breath and slowly peeled the shirt off you, cutting it at places to make it easier. You felt blood rush to your cheek even in that state, you could feel Namjoon’s eyes raking your body, scouting every corner with his eyes. A sudden sting brought you back to reality, “This will sting a lot and ache but we have to get the bullets out of you or it will cause infection.” He told you then looked at Namjoon “I'll arrange some blood for her and you go wash your hands you have to help me” Jin told him. 

Namjoon rested you on the bed very lightly as Jin plugged in 2 channels to your unhurt arm. “You will not move an inch from here. I'll check up on you, after my shift” Jin said “and yes, I'm Seokjin, Namjoon's roomate” he said. Namjoon's room looked like one in the detective movies. He literally had a board with newspaper cutting and pictures of Yours, Lees, Yours, Chois, their associates, Yours, you had to look away. 

“Ahm” he cleared his throat “Do you need something?” Namjoon asked after Jin left as he switched on the news channel. 

“This evening a shoot out had occured in the house of famous industrialist Choi Taejoon. Sources say that his rival Y/n L/n might have something to do with it, along with a few murders in the previous months” the reporter said.

Your eyes went wide in shock, “Namjoon trust me, I didn't, it was-” you started but Namjoon put a finger on your lips. “Shh” he said and switched off the TV “sleep. We'll talk later, I don't want you dying on me” he said, his face still stoic, but his eyes, those were the last thing on your mind before sleep claimed you. 

----------------------------------------------------

Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time.

You walked into the mansion with an eerie feeling, it almost seemed too quiet and gave you creeps. The meeting should have been over by now, finally the L/ns and Chois would stop fighting. That was when you heard a gunshot, from the conference room area, and you ran. Your hand went to your waistband, shit you forgot yours in the car. You saw several of your men down, some were knocked out, some were dead with a few Choi men here and there. “Fuck!” You said. You entered the conference room to find Choi Taejoon pointing a gun at your father who already had a bullet mark and blood on his shoulder. “Dad!” You screamed as another hit him right at the heart. You felt like the world had stopped. You ran towards your father, one moment and you saw the gun turn towards you. This was it, you won't even be able to avenge your father, there's literally no cover. As Taejoon fired the shot you closed your eyes, suddenly you felt someone hold and move you out of the way. You opened your eyes to see Officer Namjoon, the bullet hit his arm. “Run” he told you with eyes filled with concern for you, for the first time. So you did, as his police force piled into the mansion, you gathered the men that were able and ran away to a safe house. Taejoon ran away too that day. 

You saw half of your world crumbling down when Taejoon made his way away from jail by framing your uncle for the murder of your father and manslaughter. 

You woke up in a jolt. “Hey are you okay? Are you in pain?” Namjoon asked from his spot on the chair beside the bed. You nodded and said “just old nightmares, resurfacing”. You looked around to see the environment still dark. “How long was I out?” You asked. “Around 22 hours” he said, glancing at the clock. “Oh my god! What!” You said as you tried to get up and groaned. Namjoon immediately moved towards you, pinning you to the bed gently. “Don't move” he said. “But I can't stay here, it's dangerous” you tried to reason with him. “For who?” He asked and the two of you broke into a chuckle “you think they'll know the notorious Y/n is in the house of her cop nemesis” he joked. But your eyes were stuck on his, the stoicness was nowhere around, it was just him, for the first time. 

Namjoon noticed your form, his eyes drifted to your lips, the red color not visible anymore, they looked pale due to the amount of blood you lost. He wished he could take away all you pain and take you to those places you said you wanted to go. 

He looked at your eyes to find you eyeing his lips and something in him broke loose, he bent and placed his lips on yours, you immediately responded as if you were waiting for him. Like a thirsty traveler who finally found water the two of you got lost in each other not caring about the world outside. It was when you tried to get up and the pain hit you that you groaned and fell back down on the bed. 

“Stay” he said, “we’ll do this, together”

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate. Isn't it?

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Other Works

Song: Delicate by Taylor Swift

My networks:  @sandsofire   @k-vanity   

Taglist: @bbl32 @back2bluesidex @cherryblossom-2004

[mercurygguk]

💌 wip challenge

thanks for tagging me @jeonqkooks 💘

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous they are. let people send you an ask with any titles most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips. (you can make your own post or reblog this one!)

a/n; this is all i can offer right now instead of actual works 🥹 my motivation to write is equal to zero rn so i wanna share my wips in the hopes of this helping me to write again!!

all wips listed under cut 👇🏼

AMBVALENCE ➵ jjk x f. reader, p*rn star au, lovers to exes to enemies to lovers au :')

JUST (not) MY TYPE ➵ kth x f. reader, enemies to lovers au (for now), college au, tae is a total fuckboy and isn't used to getting a no :') update: title has been decided!! :D

LOVE CYCLE ➵ jjk x f. reader, exes to lovers au, want this to be angsty af!!!!

SNEAKING OUT AT 3 AM ➵ myg x f. reader, secret dating au, bad guy!yoongles teehee (part of 'the 3 am chronicles')

ALIVE ➵ knj x f. reader, professor!namjoon x student!reader, age gap au, college au

FLIGHT TRANSFER AT 3 AM ➵ pjm x f. reader, established relationship au (part of 'the 3 am chronicles')

HEAD OVER SKATES ➵ jjk x f. reader, hockey player!jk, college au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au

ONE TOO MANY ➵ pjm x f. reader x jjk, thr*esome au, plenty of smut and jk is a cocky a-hole while jimin is a total sweetheart bf <3

BLACK BULLETS ➵ jjk x f. reader, gang member!jk x undercover agent!reader, gang au, enemies to lovers au (this is going to be a series i think once i get around to it)

tagging; @kookingtae @chryblossomjjk @sxtaep @taegularities @jeonjcngkook @kooktrash @delugguk @rkivian <3