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sor-vette · 3 years ago

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I. Friends, Long Forgotten

• type: Jungkook x reader (+ ot7 x reader mentioned)

• genre: fantasy! au & vampire au, (sort of) exes to enemies/friends/annoyances/lovers it's complicated • about: it's really whimsical, I suck at creating sexual tension, reader is kind of a brat but Jungkook likes them bratty ;) If you want to know what Jungkook looks like search 190811 vampire

• t/w: biting, blood, (brief) smut, light violence, mentions of bullying, drowning, mention of past abduction, some yandere-ish elements, Jungkook has a teenie weenie sadomasochism kink (thanks Mayla)

• rating: mature/explicit • w/c: 8k

• tagging: @mintkims; @pinkcherrybombs; @ilsan-seoul; @leannsw

• a/n: This has been simultaneously a long time coming and very out of nowhere. Above all dedicated to @mayla548, an unlikely friend made a great distance away, love you! (please pretend you like it, even though it's probably by far not what you had in mind hehe) The Other World here is the same as first mentioned "Misfortunately, Yours" this is a neighbouring Kingdom

• masterlist • author's main masterlist

“Bunnies are dangerous,” he had said, voice angelic despite the fact of what he was. It was no lie to say that the Devil was charming.

“They can, after all, travel between worlds.”

He had said that but you’d forgotten it, let it slip into the fog seemingly never to remember it but now you did. Two red eyes are peering up at you amidst the sludged snow and brown pavement of St. Augustine's college. Two red eyes belonging to a bunny so white it blended near seamlessly into its surroundings and they looked at you back curiously, with intelligence too wicked for a creature like that. It must be Mr Red, it must be.

You’re running before your mind can catch up to what’s going on, leaving the professor’s stern warning far behind. He didn’t matter, this school didn’t matter, life didn’t matter because you think the one thing that was not meant to happen just did. The bunny is there when you dash through the large wooden gates rolling over a small moat. Mr Red is waiting for you, he’s taunting you like candy on a string because the moment you get close enough to catch him, he hops off.

The cold air is biting your cheeks and your hands are freezing, and your shoes are soiled with snow but all that remains in the far distances of your mind as you run after Mr Red. He was not supposed to be in this realm, you closed the gate, you left them. It was over, the story was over and you’ve come home when it did, there should be no sequel, no continuation and yet here you were on the brink of what felt like a prologue to a book that shouldn’t be written.

The bunny is hopping down forest paths, deeper and deeper into the unknown and when you cross the Ogre Slope there is no question of what the bunny was or where it was leading you to. The Gate. To That World. Back to them.

As expected, the bunny swerves a hard right, its roundish tail swaying left to right. He’s close enough for you to see, but just far enough for you to keep running. This is a trap, the most classic one there is but you don’t care. You don’t even remember what was it that made you run this hard, to chase so desperately. There’s a veil where clear memories should be but you remember being loved, you remember being powerful and regal and maybe it was a weakness to chase after such a thing but human nature in its definition was flawed.

There’s a stone archway in front of you, like a standing doorway of a building long lost to time and when the bunny leaps through it, it doesn’t come back on the other side. Instead, it travels through. The Gate.

You run your full might into it and unceremoniously crash and stumble right onto the forest floor. The same forest floor.

Letting out a string of curses, you hop between in it till there’s no breath left in you and your lungs burn from the cold air but the Gate doesn’t open and after a while, all you can do is just to stand panting in the white snow as the night descends upon St. Augustine's.

You had an adventure a few years back, a proper fantasy adventure, you and Luara had found the Gate in the woods and went to whole another world. You fought with Trolls and flew on an Eagle’s back, you were crowned a maid of honour and helped to overthrow an unrightful ruler.

She, Luara, had been the stuff of legends - a certified protagonist. She had a destiny, was a hidden royal of a mystical realm which she now ruled with her husband. It was pure magic but the thing was you’re the sidekick and the story was over. You had no destiny or any more grand adventures to fulfil, you could only be returned home where you belong.

More than two years had now passed and for the most part, you just resigned to the cards life dealt you with. Or maybe you would have if not for a slight detour that you took on your journey. They say you were abducted by seven vampire lords and stayed with them for over seventy-five years in their castle hidden deep even in the world of wonders. They think you were a prisoner and many, including Luara, cried of the probable torture you must have endured all those decades.

When they greeted you back in the rebel camp, you could only stand quiet, with pursed lips cheeks ablaze and accept the condolences, never revealing what actually happened. Partially because you didn’t know well enough. You think you did once, because of all the lonely nights after them, spent in your tent, crying and clawing at your neck at either healed injury or kiss unremembered. The haze was largely blamed on compulsion but you don’t believe they used it that much. What you remember didn’t make you out to be a prisoner. You recall large paintings, walks in the winter garden, frozen over fountain statues, naked forms wrapping you in numerous arms, soft blankets and dinners, and your head thrown back onto someone's shoulder, moaning and spent, fangs slipping in and out of your most delicate places.

As you traipse back to St Augustine's, you, more so out of habit, touch your neck. No bite marks, nothing of the sort. Nothing to prove of the tongues lapping at your skin, nothing to even suggest you once were held like a diamond, broken then put together. All you had are these fragments, broken strings leading ultimately into nothing and, of course, the music box.

You rifle in your back pocket and find it there. Without a doubt, it was there - you didn’t leave it out of your sight. On the quiet winter night the dull, mechanic sound chimes only more blue, accompanied by the snow crunching underneath your shoes. It's a manual music box, you have to force your fingers to move for the brass tongues to strike the chords. You watch their dance, spinning the song round and round. You think that one of them gave you this, must have! For when you listen to it you can feel a warm chest behind you, flickering light of the fireplace. It hadn’t sounded as bizarre as it did when you were alone, despite all the stories that Luara told, you had then felt safe. Protected. A princess in her castle.

There was nothing of the sort now, you reckon with a sigh, tucking it away. In spite of Mr Red's sudden appearance maybe the story was indeed over.

Suddenly all the hair on the back of your nape stands up and your head, on its own volition, turns around. You don’t see anything there, just the dark but you can feel something watching you. Maybe someone.

You should run, you should run like weaklings did in stories like these, run for help and for civilization but you don’t. You take a step closer where you think someone might be standing.

You want it to be them, anyone of them.

“Hello?” you ask, voice shivering from the cold all around. “Are you there? Is it you?”

By you, you meant the owner of the rabbit. One of them did, why else would he have told you about them, how they travelled between realities.

The dark doesn’t answer and the wind picks up the speed, rustling the treetops.

“Did you give me this?” you brandish the brass music box towards the unknown. “Have you come back? I...I don’t remember you, I... don’t remember what you look like. Will you not show yourself to me?”

Whoever is standing there, if it was anyone at all, does not answer and does not come forward and after a while, of simply lingering and talking to the air you begin to feel stupid and curse yourself for supposing there ever was anything there.

You trudge your sullen way to St. Augustine's, its many windows casting long rays and shining your way back to the warmth.

The treeline is not empty though and the squirrels and birds and predators of an animal kind all scurry away from the figure that followed you like a shadow back to humanity.

He stood in the dark, lest the humans see him, taking in your trembling form. He let his claws scrape the bark of the nearest tree, scarlet eyes pulsing with hunger.

By now Mr Red will have travelled back home and the news of Jungkook's unauthorized leave to the human realm will reach the rest, but they will understand. They thought it was over, that the end of your story had been written but Jungkook lives forever, he has the time to begin writing it anew.

What followed was an incredibly furious lecture about missing lessons, running off, being careless. You listened to none of that, you paid no attention to it just like you did not pay attention to what professor Wilkins was saying now. The causes and effects of the Franco - Prussian war be damned. Instead, you gazed out of windows, counting the falling snowflakes one by one, so immersed that when a light tap comes on your shoulder, you thoroughly scream.

“Miss __________ for the last time, do not disturb my class!” the professor wailed and you could only give a faint nod, staring widely at the new classmate who was sitting in the seat next to you.

Still panicking from the intrusion you give him a look over. He was dressed slightly odd for a student - in a suit jacket and a silky blouse which was generously popped open, showcasing his collarbones. Amidst the others, he looked ready for a ball while the rest of you, peasants, were late for cleaning stables.

“Hello,” he breathes harmoniously, his dark brown eyes never leaving yours and never appearing shy like oftentimes people did when they talked to a stranger. You rather like the sound of his voice even if there’s something about him that has your shoulders tightening. Perhaps it's the fact that he smells too nice, or he’s leaning in too close or his hair is too perfect... no, but he really is leaning in too close. He’s practically whispering in your ear, nose travelling to your neck.

“I’m new here, won’t you help a guy out?”

“In... in what way?” you ask, clutching the history book like a Victorian lady would clutch her pearls.

He cocks his head, that curly hair falling to the side and gives you a strange smile.

“In what way do you offer?” he asks in turn.

He’s weird, attractive, yes, you were not blind, but he’s weird. No normal person would do this.

“None,” you huff, pushing the chair away.

He lets one of his arms braced against the desk, coyly smiling at you. He’s playing some kind of game but you’re not interested in what it was. You weren’t. Not at all.

“None at all?” he echoes in a lilted tone like he’s whining but the smile doesn’t suggest at all that he’s upset.

“He’s pleased, he likes the chase,” there’s a voice in your mind, much sager to the one that works your mouth and often throws profanities at any given situation.

“And I thought you were a good girl.”

“I’m not,” you glare at him, your fists bunching up.

“Are you a bad girl?”

“No.”

He hums to himself.

“So not a good girl, not a bad girl,” his free hand lifts up and gently grips your chin, thumb finger all too close to your bottom lip. “Maybe you’re just my girl?” he says in a whisper but you can hear it because he’s just that close. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the undertone of his cologne, the brush of his hair...

SLAP!

It’s so harsh it resounds throughout the room, effectively drawing all attention to you. Your palm stings and the stranger’s head has turned to the side, neck displayed and vaguely you gather a splattering of miniature bruises littered along the column of his throat but that doesn’t matter because you just bitch slapped the strangeness out of him.

There’s blood gathering on the corner of his mouth and he’s still turned away blinking at the room, entirely surprised. Without waiting for professor Wilkins to toss you out, you make a run for it, lest this guy decides to return the hit.

The door slams shut when you run and Jungkook can hear your steps dimming the further you retreat. He touches his lip tenderly and observes with rapt fascination the trickle of blood pooling on his finger.

“Mr Jeon, are you okay?” the professor asks. A dreadfully dull man whose name nor face he bothered to remember. Humans were not usually his interest, only one was.

“I’m ecstatic, sir,” he replies and when the class has turned away, discreetly he licks the blood off his finger.

“Missing nearly half your lectures, disobeying curfew, striking another student!”

The aforementioned victim of your bullying doesn’t even have the decency to look hurt. He sits on the chair by the Headmistress desk, smirking like an asshole. You puff at him, shoulders up to your ears as one scolding comes after the next.

“The pile of your misdeeds is growing too great for me to ignore it, Miss ___________, maybe this school is not the right fit - “

“Headmistress Kang,” the stranger says with the most velvety voice imaginable, his eyes turning almost innocent. You scoff in disgust.

“I truly don’t mind. I am a tough guy and I overstepped boundaries, I’m actually glad ___________ put me in my place.”

There’s this glazed look in Mrs Kang’s eyes that was definitely not approved by the school board to be present while talking to a student.

“Surely a female student should not be expelled because she stood up to a bastard like me.”

“Mr Jeon,” Mrs Kang gasps, cheeks turning incriminatingly rosy. “You shouldn’t be talking about yourself like that!”

You roll your eyes at the theatrics, growing only more uncomfortable the more innocent this...this tool! presents himself to be.

He was actually fluttering his eyes like some sort of helpless prince.

“And yet it is true. Please, Mrs Kang, don’t expel __________. I’m sure we’ll be great friends once we get to know each other.”

Mrs Kang looks you over with lips as thin as a paper but one glimpse into that miscreant’s eyes and folds like a stack of wet cards.

“Hmm, if you insist Mr Jeon. Maybe you can help __________ here to focus more on studies and less running off from lectures and into the woods?”

He turns to give you a teasing side smirk and twinkling regard. Your frustration only grows at the sight of it.

“Don't worry Mrs Kang I won’t let __________ out of my sight,” he purrs and you turn away, coughing. You must have had a fever from getting wet yesterday, your face is really rather warm.

“Very well then. Dismissed both of you!”

“You’re such a dick,” you groan, stomping through the empty hallways. It was the last class, a few minutes before the final ring. Soon the masses of students will flood the building and hopefully drown that asshole with them.

“I have such a dick,” he corrects as if that was truly the troubling thing at hand. “And I just saved your precious behind. Shouldn’t you say “thank you”?”

“For what? Said it yourself, you overstepped my boundaries.”

He pauses and then for a moment that smirk drops and something sincere takes a hold of his expression.

“I did. I’m sorry for that, my Dearest.”

You have nothing snide to reply to that so you keep the conversation in huffish silence.

“What’s in the forest that you so desire?” he questions suddenly, inclining his head. He’s an unorthodox mix. His features seem a bit too soft to be outright intimidating but the way he carries himself is so unlike anyone you’ve ever met. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t slouch. Most students here didn’t have straight spines whatsoever.

“Why do you ask?” you bite back, suspicious.

“Just curious,” he shrugs but the way that those eyes of his don’t leave you, don’t blink when they look at you indicates more than a mere curiosity.

“I like to chase rabbits,” you dryly reply, making it sound like a joke when it was the truth. A convenient and believable way to lie, you learned that Over There.

“Funny, I also like to chase things,” he gives you that smile again, it's oddly tight like his mouth is positioned at a weird angle.

“Whatever,” you growl and turn around to scurry away from him.

“Jungkook,” he yells after you. “My name is Jungkook, Dearest.”

“As if I care,” you toss over your shoulder.

Jungkook watches you leave for the third time but he doesn’t bother catching you. He’ll allow you to run around as much as you want, for the time being at least. They always said he was too soft on you, which was a lie, they were all puppies underneath your hand, eagerly fulfilling your every wish and command. He likes the spunk and he likes the bickering. He often enjoyed torturing his senses, for instance residing in a school full of humans and not feeding on any of them, though he was steadily growing hungrier. He’ll let your run around your circles, watching with a fond smile when you inevitably run closer and closer around his orbit.

A white spot bounces towards him up the stairs, through the empty hallways and he closes his hand in a cup to scoop Mr Red up.

The bunny greets Jungkook with a sniff and a bump of his nose against the palm. Around his neck, there was a light collar with a small scroll attached to it.

“Take care. We’ll be waiting home”

Hours later when the black sky had darkened to a complete and impenetrable void, only brief stars and sickle of the moon illuminating the sparse surroundings below, do you venture out. Armed with snow pants and boots and the royal dagger, Luara's memento before she left for her duty and you for the draining monochrome of the human world, you sneak through the hallways and peak into the next one.

Professor Wilkins was making the rounds again, eagerly sipping at his tea which unbeknownst to him had more calming effects infused than he strictly bargained for but really, to have a curfew in university and not ask for retribution? Delusional.

You silently hawk at his every movement awaiting the second his eyes get too sleepy to walk and he takes a quick, harmless nap in a teacher's room lounge.

"What are you doing?" a quiet but husky voice brushes unannounced by your ear and of course - you scream. Or attempt to scream as a rough palm immediately closes over your mouth and you're pulled backwards. The fear dissipates when your head is tucked underneath a now-familiar chin and dark curls. Wrenching one elbow free, you gut Jungkook into the ribs. He merely laughs at it, as if you beating him up is a marginally amusing and enjoyable afternoon activity.

"My, my," he begins to tut, entirely too loud. Professor Wilkins may be of hard hearing but not entirely deaf. Out of panic you slap your own hand over his mouth not a second later feeling his tongue and teeth nip at your skin, a deviant glint rising in his eyes.

"Keep quiet and stop biting me!" you hiss at him, feeling weird at the way you can feel vibrations from his laughter on your skin.

In the background, there is a loud thud and a hard splatter. You whip around and see Professor Wilkin's unfortunately splayed on the floor, his exceedingly calming jasmine tea now splattering across the brownstone slabs.

So he was having a deeper sleep than either of you prepared for.

"Dearest, you really are a bad girl," Jungkook coos, arching one thoroughly humoured eyebrowed at the unconscious body of his teacher, "breaking the curfew, sneaking out, drugging the professor? You're positively incorrigible."

"Oh, shut up," you huff, scratching at your forehead with the flashlight. You didn't account for him to slumber out in the open, getting him to the couch would be a hustle for you....but not for Jungkook.

You throw him a critical eye and he inclines his head at your interest.

"See what you like?"

"Could you lift a person?"

His smirk turns downright obnoxious.

"I could lift you, grip you by the waist -"

"I meant could you lift him?" you point at the poor Professor Wilkins who still lies face mushed against the cold floor.

Jungkook takes a quick glance and scrunches up his nose.

"He's not my taste," he grins.

You puff in frustration, stomping your way to deal with the problem yourself. Jungkook watches by sidelines, well entertained, as you struggle, sweat pouring from your forehead.

"This is so pathetic," he shakes his head but despite the word it doesn't feel malicious. He gathers Professor Wilkins, who may be a little bit feeble, a little bit mousy and hoists the poor man like a lifeless doll on his shoulder. Good thing he wasn't conscious to experience the indignance.

"Where do you want him...Mistress?" Jungkook asks and you're convinced you'll have grey hair by the end of the night.

In the end, Professor Wilkins is on that couch in the teacher's lounge as planned, mouth open he sleeps as content as anyone ever could.

Once in the dungeons and near the kitchen backdoor, you try to shoo Jungkook away but he is adamant.

"No, Mistress, you can't be this cruel," he whines in the dark of the kitchen.

The castle is six hundred years of age, what surrounds you is very, very old cooking equipment but Jungkook looks like he fits here just right. From the small, paned window in the wall, pale moonlight seeps a furtive light in the otherwise dark room and something in you shivers at the sight of him standing, still and composed, wearing a studded leather jacket but looking like a prince out of a painting.

"Show me your teeth," you demand, eyes anxiously raking over his every movement. Weirdly, he doesn't question it but he's odd like that and you're odd as well, so maybe as a result you two were normal. Though you doubt it.

He tears his lips in an open smile and you inspect his mouth closely from the distance. Other than being envyingly white he had normal teeth. Most notably, devoid of fangs.

"I'll go with you," he demands and you push the flats of your palms in your eyes.

"You're not dressed for winter!"

A leather jacket and leather pants and some frivolous thing which could only marginally be called a shirt. He truly did not understand what dressing for weather meant.

"That's my problem."

"I don't want you to come with me."

"That's not my problem," he says with an angelically evil smile.

"You're not coming with me!" you try to argue for the final time but Jungkook sways on his feet, teasingly.

"Well if I'm not with you, I'm in despair, I'm fretting so I will have no other choice but to go to Mrs Kang..."

"You wouldn't, you're breaking the curfew too!"

"Darling, do you think I could ever do wrong in her eyes?" he winks at you and henceforth the debate is ended.

Jungkook discreetly rubs the blood from his thumb around his gums to appease the dull pain on his fangs having to be retracted all the way but he didn't want you to know just yet. He trails closely behind you, taking in with frequent giggles the bungling way with which you waded through the snow and the caterpillar form that the padded snow jacket gave you. Faintly pondering of what he'd do to you if he was a predator like any other. He reckoned he'd still be as mesmerized.

"Baby you'd have a grand old time in this forest," he thought, voice greedy, a dry growl as though even in the confines in his mind he was starved.

It was centuries ago when he had been a young man, flighty, innocent and polite, scared of his own wants. Now he was neither honest nor unintrusive like he had once been. Would he be honest he’d tell you how much he wanted to bend you over and break to his every dark, twisted whim until you cried, until you bled on his tongue. But only a little, the sight of you in pain, without doubt, would spur a full-blown massacre. It was often confounding, having to walk between the worshipping Jungkook, one who would enjoy nothing more to see you lounge on a throne and order him around, maybe dig your nails in his cheeks and demand obedience, Jungkook who'd like to hold your hand in his and point out the wondrous birds of their castle and Jungkook who wanted to chain you down and disgrace you both without recovery. You made him oh so confused but he did not worry about it, he'll be it all if you want.

He wondered what look you’d give him would he confess his devotion to you in this very instant. He could envision it so clearly. He’d do it on his knees, pressing himself at the base of your feet, muttering incoherently to give him a chance, to return back, to see how he burns for you, just how mad has he and the rest of them became locked away from you atop their world in a cold, empty castle.

You stamp forward all brave and confident. It is beyond endearing to see your little fists scrunched up, ready to take in a whole world of wicked things, just to see them in return.

But wicked things had come too soon and it wasn't only Jungkook's shadow lingering by to sink their teeth into you. As the wind picks up and rushes through the cracks amidst the trees, he smells the saccharine scent of a werewolf, all too near to someone as precious as you.

"We should turn back," he warns, forcing his lips down to not reveal the fangs, geared and ready to rip at any intruder who would dare to lay their filthy hands on you.

"I told you, if you're cold - " you begin exasperated.

"Listen, you defiant brat, turn back -!"

In insurmountable horror, he watches as, without prompt, you disappear underneath a heavy pile of snow, the water of a buried river, slushing around his feet.

Contrary to popular belief, cold wasn't always cold. Cold could burn, like it did right now as you uselessly fought against the current, pulling you deeper down the ice. It was bad, this was bad. You were underneath a sheet of ice and running out of air fast, whilst not being able to slow down to break through to the surface. As you flail around the dark water, your ankle snags against something and becomes stuck. The pain is blinding but at least it stops the current. You bang your fists against the ice, hearing only the deep echoes of it rippling through the water. Increasingly more desperate, you knock against it and in a show of what must be an adrenaline-fueled strength the sheet breaks and you can crawl your way out of the water. Hacking and half screaming you make it to the steady dirt of the ground and lean against the snow in pain.

In the world, coated in white monotone snow it was impossible to tell when one was walking atop of peril until a moment too late. Jungkook rushes towards you but is pushed away by a furred figure, snapping its jaws against his throat.

You just wanted to see them. Why was it so hard to return?

"___________! ____________!" someone, Jungkook you realize, no one else was there with you, is calling your name, terror splashing the forest.

"I'm here!" you gasp back as loudly as you can. You can hear Jungkook running towards you, really fast, if you might add, but there's something off about him. Before you can make out what it is though, your vision is blocked by a faintly damp and cold palm.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, panting and you can feel him prod around his other hand at various spots.

"My ankle," you groan, wincing in pain, eyes flitting around underneath Jungkook's palm.

"I'm going to have to remove my hand but you must promise me you won't look."

You scoff.

"Why would I not look? Whatever for?"

"______________, please don't look," he asks and all of his attitude drops for a split second by.

You can feel him watching you, one hand covering your eyes. There's not a reason why to do as he asked but something about his voice, momentarily genuine and vulnerable, makes you comply and when gingerly Jungkook's fingers retreat from your face, your eyes remain shut.

As such you can't see his bloodied face and chest, fangs protruding long and sharp from beneath his lip, still dripping the wolve's blood. While tentatively touching the ankle, hunched over, pale and clearly vampiric, he glances up at you, at your stubbornly frowning expression, caught between wanting to look strong and being confused. The ankle is swollen. From the feel of it, the bone wasn't broken but severely dislocated. The unnamed wolf was dead but now Jungkook wished he would leave it alive, to last the torture longer. He picked you up and from the pain, you don't let a barrage of insults fly over his head. Heading back to St. Augustine's he reminisces of the first time he ever met you. Nearly a hundred years ago it had been. Did you remember it, the haze of the fact that they kept you with them for decades? Did you remember him finding you on a night much like this, quiet, serene and cold? He, just coming back from feasting and you, injured and wondering would he kill you.

The thought hadn't even run through him, not even then.

He begins to hum a song, one of Yoongi's piano pieces and you instinctively stir at its familiarity. So not all of it was gone. He was glad to see that. It would be a grievous blow for all of it, in good, bad, filthy and pure, to only be stored in their minds.

You begin to prod around your jacket pocket, in search of the music box, he muses, and become hysterical when you don't find it. Though your eyes remain closed, you trash around, padding all throughout the material, trying to feel the form of your beloved item.

"It's gone," you wail. "It's gone, I lost it!"

Jungkook presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, staining it ever so lightly with blood and from the sheer surprise of it, you calm down.

"Don't worry. You'll get hundred other ones,'' he promises.

He strips the jacket off of you and lays your feverish form in the small of his bed, a modest chamber compared to the room of his own but this will have to do. Undoing his shirt, he sinks his teeth into his wrist, biting it ruthlessly all the way to the bone. A small scab for the sake of your health. Jungkook hoists your body upwards, nearing his bleeding arm near your mouth.

"This is medicine," he tells you, with his free hand, gently patting your head. "This will help."

Your nose scrunches at the first dour taste and you pull away.

"Is...tastes horrid," you gasp out.

"It does but it'll help. Be a good girl and drink. Aren't you my good girl?"

Your frown deepens.

"I'm not your girl," you weakly object and Jungkook fakes a laugh, anxiously observing as the wound was closing itself up.

"Okay, my Mistress then, please, just drink."

After a second, you comply and with a disgusted groan blindly sink your teeth into his flesh. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, shivering all over. This much blood waste would only increase his hunger in unforeseen measures but it was no dispute. You needed it, he'd give it to you.

He softly cards the free fingers through your hair as you drink, his mouth twisting in a dazed smile.

After your head slumped and your chest lifted with heavy, exhausted wheezes, Jungkook sighed tucking the now loosened blanket around you tighter, wincing at the dryness in his throat. As his hand brushed against your wrist, he felt it - the beating of your heart, inadvertently gasping in a short breath. An idiot's gamble. Of course, immediately what surrounds him is your scent, the blood, his sustenance, his devotion and damnation, all rolled into one for ease of translation, rushing underneath your neck, now thrumming even stronger, fueled by his own. His mind was running leaps without his supervision returning to various nights spent in similar yet also different circumstances. You on the floor, pressed against the fine rug, drooling into Jin's silk cladded pillow, which Jungkook had provided for your comfort even as he was in the midst of ripping you apart. Your bodies slick with sweat and reflecting the dancing light of the fireplace. As a delectable finish, he had gathered a fistful of your hair and yanked the head back sinking his teeth into your neck, still thrusting and amidst the mouthfuls of blood, spilling that there was nothing above, below or between all creation that was ever as perfect as you.

It wasn't a sinless picture but was Jungkook supposed to care? He was a vampire and in spite of what should be right, he knew you liked him, liked them all along with being here. But he couldn't just take you. He wouldn't enjoy you feeling fear or resentment. There was only one thing he wanted more than he wanted you, he wanted you to desire him back. You were there, but you were yet to realize that your prayer of lover's return was much closer than you hoped for.

You were walking down a long hallway, the ornate marble floor echoing your footsteps all throughout this castle that seemingly had neither beginning nor end. You pass by portraits of various men lined neatly across the golden walls. Some were older, some newer but they had one thing in common - you had a frightful suspicion that they were alive. Once your back was turned, faint whispers erupted behind you, yet when you turned nothing had changed. Still, the feeling of being watched, and being watched hungrily, didn't dissipate. If anything it only increased. You walk through the hallway, goosebumps trailing all over your arms, hoping to reach at least an end when right on the brink of a new room, the greeting hall with massive staircase leading up, into the unknown, you spot an extremely ostentatious painting. Even in the dusk of this phantasmagorical place, it glimmered with a vague shine.

In the painting, there sat a man. Something about his face seemed acquainted, fainter than a dream and lighter than a touch, a step between reality and imagination.

"Handsome aren't I?" a voice speaks right into your ear before a pair of cold lips kiss your neck. You scream and fall backwards into the portrait. The hallway is empty, though before you get to relax two hands, reaching from the inside of the painting pull you through.

There's a brief, sickening sensation of falling, then a landing on something soft. It's a fur rug, splayed in front of a crackling fireplace. You remember this place, you think, once you spend a lifetime here. Still, when you raise your head, expecting to see them, there is no one. No one but Mr Red innocently blinking its scarlet eyes back at you. Abruptly a weight drops on your back, pushing your face into the floor.

"I won't let you run, I won't," the voice growls, too warbled for you to properly recognize who was it who was talking. Sharp pain erupts in your shoulder as it latches its fangs deep into the skin. But then a soothing cold and drowning, leaving that room far behind and descending limply into the dark, fathomless depths of the water.

...seventh strike, eighth strike, ninth strike, tenth strike. Silence. Ten chimes of the belltower by the third floor of the West wing. Ten in the morning. You wake up with a start, sour taste in your mouth and head splintering in two. You clutch at it, sinking deeper into the mattress from the pounding migraine. Yanking the curtains closed you revel in the darkness that sinks over the room. A room that once you look closer into was not yours. Once you wriggle out of the cocoon of blankets that someone had tucked you in, a slip of paper falls onto the floor.

"Got hungry, went out. Please stay in bed. Forever and Faithfully Yours, Jungkook."

You fall back struggling to remember how the night had ended the way it did - with you in his bed. Nothing came up, just water rushing into your lungs and something vile but warm like molten candle wax travelling down your throat as soft whispers enveloped you into a deep rest. You groan, irritated, and spring away from Jungkook's things that crowd all around - his scent, his clothes, his presence - it’s gripping you in a chokehold. Tossing on what resembled your first layer of clothes you limp out into the wild of other aggregates trying to pass to and fro underneath the keen eye of professors. In a Saturday morning such as this, you’re by far not the only walk of shame in St. Augustines, you are, however, the only one eliciting snide laughter.

“Hey, __________, what dog did you pimp yourself off to?”

A disgusting snivelling voice calls out behind. Whoever’s speaking, which any one of those degenerate cliques that had a good time picking on you, receives a mute middle finger.

Rushing away from the gaggle of similar hungover girls fixing themselves desperately in the bathroom mirror, you swallow down a mouthful of water, it doing nothing to soothe the sharp dryness clinging alongside your tongue, and leave for the library.

Mrs Sidorov throws you a contemptuous glare once you crash through her doors and without breath, pant:

“St. Augustine’s local history, folklore and maps, please.”

She heaves a withering sigh, fixing the chain of her glasses.

“Again?” she questions, of course, rhetorically.

Yes, again, over and over and over again till you find something. St. Augustine had been standing, surrounded by 300 acres of forest for nearly 600 years. It was statistically impossible that during more than half of Millenium only you and Luara had discovered the gate. Swaying underneath the heavy bound books you collapse on the nearest chair, ankle throbbing for some reason. The literature is known to you but still hard to read given the unique language and the many illustrious handwriting creating it. At least due to the weekend, you were spared from yet another visit to Headmistress Kang’s office but not from your fellow classmates trudging in and out of this usually quiet alcove of serenity.

Hours pass by and soon the winter sun is once again setting over the horizon. Everything is damp outside, slowly thawing and preparing for the upcoming spring, the once white snow mushes into brown mud underneath the many students' feet. Rubbing at your temples, you unwillingly wonder about Jungkook. He should be back by now. Private transportation was not allowed here and the only store, even called liberally, within a two town radius was an hour away. What was he doing? Where did he come from? Truthfully, what was his deal? He didn’t have fangs yet there was a possibility he managed to hide them… He was just a little bit too strange to be normal and you wanted to meet just a little too much to not, in an intimate private, wish Jungkook was one of them returning back… even if he was an annoyance extraordinaire.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in bed?” a stern voice breathes in the crook of your neck.

Startled, you whip around, prepared to smack the intruder with a 16th-century chronology but Jungkook, because of course it’s him, catches your wrist with careless ease in the middle of the air.

“Always so violent, Dearest,” he reprimands but not without mirth. There are flakes of faint snow in his hair and as he drops down on a nearby chair, you notice much darker circles hanging underneath his eyes.

“Did you get something to eat?” you glare at him but he shrugs it aside, pushing a cup of hot cocoa across the table.

“A little bit,” he evades, his thigh pressing against yours. It’s faintly cold but not unnaturally so. You examine the slightest details on his face. From the slender neck that reaches into an unbuttoned shirt, Adam's apple which bobs ever so often as he reflexively swallows, dark hair curling around his ears, those simultaneously innocent and conniving eyes and the pouting lips. Regardless, nothing screams familiar to you, there’s not a moment where it all begins to make sense. The only recognition you have is of the one with which he recently invaded your life with.

“Keep staring and I’ll ask for a payment,” he teases and you scoff, pushing all questions aside.

“Why was I in your bed this morning?”

Without a pause, a self-satisfied grin lights up his expression and you prepare yourself for whatever nonsense is to come.

“Because you’re deviant, Dearest. Can’t keep your hands off me.”

You groan, turning back to the book.

“You fell into a river yesterday. I pulled you out and took you to my room. Didn’t know which one was yours,” he continues a touch more serious, one of his palms surreptitiously inching closer as his calf sneaks underneath yours.

“Why does my ankle hurt?”

“You strained a muscle.”

At that, you raise an eyebrow. The reply came too fast and too prepared like he had rehearsed saying in anticipation of you asking.

“Did it?”

Jungkook’s face falls entirely blank, he doesn’t even blink which of course only increases your apprehension.

“Why? What do you think happened?”

“I think I sprained it and you’re in fact a vampire who gave me his blood hence healing the injury.”

He laughs in response, very, very thinly.

“You’re a funny girl, I’ll give you that,” he slaps his thighs, though the amusement is sorely missing from his tone.

“Glad to impress,” you remark just as wry.

Moments pass along and it's not long before night descends upon St. Augustine’s. And that is when you find it.

In local cleric records of demonological observations, there is an illustration of a white bunny standing in front of a large looming shadow of which only two red eyes could be seen and over them hung the round circle of a full moon. The night you and Luara left for the Other World the sky had been overcast but if you focused well enough you recollect that it had been in the waxing period, meaning that when the Gate opened there was a possibility it had been full. Useless or not, perhaps this was your opportunity.

“_____________ are you listening?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you out of the blissful epiphany and your neck aches when you crane to look at him.

His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched tight as he stares hard at something. You follow his gaze and stumble upon Matthias and his group, your classmates in history and the chiefest thorn in your side. There was nothing more he enjoyed than to gather three or four of his friends and heckle you for the entirety of the day. How could Luara date him was beyond you, in any case that was the cornerstone of his glowing hatred towards you - Luara's mysterious “uproot” and your subsequent silence about it. He was laughing as usual while pointedly gaping at you. Once caught he, along with the rest of the airheads, began howling. So the dog joke this morning had been him.

“Who is he?” Jungkook asks calmly, his fingers lazily caressing the rim of the coffee cup.

“Oh, it’s just Matthias. Ignore him, I do,” you toss out turning your attention back to the page, letting another round of throaty howling pass by your ears. Jungkook narrows down the leader of this pathetic group and meets his gaze. When he does so his mouth opens in a wide smile, teeth on display, and waves. Matthias shudders and scurries away, his dumbfounded friends lingering back in confusion.

You tap on the illustrated full moon, thinking. It would once again surface in two weeks time. You could try one final time then, recreate the same happenstance of what happened the first time. And if it didn’t… then it was over. Finally, decidedly over. When you turn to inform Jungkook that you’re leaving, you find him a hair's distance away, so close your noses touch upon movement.

“Could you stop doing that?!” you half yell.

“No,” he quips, smug. “I like you blushing and I like you screaming -”

“Ugh, I’m going,” you groan, suppressing that lonely, piqued “oh” in your gut, deep, deep down. Not him, please not him, it would be too embarrassing to ever live down.

You slam the cover shut, turning deaf ear to Mrs Sidorov’s grumbling, leaving the East wing while your muscles wept from the disuse.

“Have you eaten anything?”

Naturally, despite your fastest crawling, Jungkook has no problem lingering by your side, not even a full step away. Horrifyingly, your stomach decides to let out a woeful growl.

“Clearly no,” you turn up your nose, cheeks blazing in the cold as you cross the inner courtyard. Suddenly a jacket hugs your shoulders as Jungkook wraps it around you. You sneak a glance in his direction. Underneath the yellow lanterns of St. Augustine, sparse snowflakes descend from the sky and land in his dark hair. Uncharacteristically his attention is drawn somewhere else. His eyes are focused on the undergrowth of the forest and he peers at it deep in thought. Shivering, you tug the studded leather jacket closer, breathing in his scent. It’s nice, you surmise.

As you move towards the cafeteria, observing Jungkook in silence, fresh snow crunching underneath your shoes, you reckon you can do this. You can survive two weeks.

Dark clouds momentarily part, revealing a half-moon gliding across the sky. Your hand brushes against his and for a brief second his fingers curl around yours, before pulling away as if burnt. A deep frown settles on his face as he bites the inside of his cheek. In the distance, a long howl braves the cold night.

You can survive two weeks.

→ next

#jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x reader #bts vampire au #bts fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fantasy au #ot7 x reader #ot7 x you #ot7 x y/n

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vampireloverz · 4 years ago

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just one more drink (then another, then another)

pairing: natsuo todoroki x fem! reader

words: 3.1k

cw/tw: non/dubcon, coercion, forced alcohol consumption, spit kink, semi public sex, creampie, dacryphilia, mild degradation, yandere themes

— A small glimmer of disappointment seems to pass over his face at your refusal. You almost open your mouth to change your mind when his expression changes, something in his face you can’t quite read, “Gimme a kiss then.”

“What?”

He tilts his head as his thumb rubs against your arm, “I thought you liked me.”

You blink at him stupidly, have you really been that obvious? Does he actually like you back? “I do!” you almost shout, “I do, I just—!”

Natsuo interrupts you, “So, a kiss?”

Your stomach does a somersault, you’ve been dreaming about kissing him for weeks, ever since he complimented your eyes after class. You can save the romantic confessions for another time, you suppose. —

✰ ✰ ✰

You’ve always liked Natsuo Todoroki, ever since he walked into class at the beginning of the semester. One look at his grey eyes beneath his white hair, paired with a winning smile, and you were smitten.

Beyond being handsome, he’s nice; the kind of genuine kindness you thought you’d never see in a man these days. The only time he’s ever seemed anything but chipper is when a classmate brings up his father but, even then, his smile only dims a little, he’s never rude.

You cherish every opportunity to work with him on assignments, you go with him every time he invites you to the on campus cafeteria, any chance to sit by his side you eagerly take. Even when it’s a group outing with the rest of the class you won’t pass it up. You’re not sure you’ll ever confess your feelings for him, for now it’s enough to be his friend.

Today your class is milling about after your professor has dismissed you, you’re all just aimlessly walking around the campus until someone brings up bar hopping. Everyone quickly agrees, it’s a perfect Friday night for drinking and almost no one has any classes on Saturday.

Natsuo turns towards you so quickly it startles you, “You’re coming right?” His bright eyes and eager grin stun you into blurting out a yes, even if you weren’t thinking about going.

“But, um, I’m not sure if I have anything nice enough to wear,” you laugh lamely.

He just smiles wider and sets a large hand on your shoulder as he says your name, instantly making you feel smaller, “You’re gonna look beautiful no matter what you put on, okay?” You feel your face heat and you mumble something about him being too nice. Natsuo chuckles and squeezes your shoulder before turning away to leave the group, “I’ll see you tonight!”

✰ ✰ ✰

The dress your roommate shoved you into is not exactly ideal, every time you take a step the fabric seems to ride up your thigh but every time you tug it down it’s like your boobs get even more exposed.

It’s a vicious cycle that only ends when you finally make your way inside the club and find your friends around one of the standing tables. Staying in place helps you keep yourself as covered as the dress will allow, but you still feel like it’s outside of your comfort zone. You make small talk with your classmates and scan the room for familiar white hair.

You frown when you don’t spot him, scrolling through your texts to double check the time he said he’d be joining in on the fun. You don’t have time to sulk as you’re dragged to the bar to order drinks.

The bartender must notice the disappointed look on your face because he tends to you first, quickly preparing your preferred drink, even adding a second serving before you have to ask for it.

When you start to nurse your third drink a large hand presses against the small of your back, just an inch above what could be deemed inappropriate. You whip your head around, ready to hurl insults until you see who it is.

“Todoroki!” you shout over the music, “Hi!”

Natsuo leans over your shoulder, so close that his lips brush against your ear, “Didn’t I tell you to call me Natsuo already?”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he waves his free hand for the bartender’s attention. You watch his lips move as he orders, mesmerized by his closeness and the scent of his cologne wafting around you.

Before you know it you end up pressed into a seat next to Natsuo as the rest of your little group spreads out on the dance floor and the other side of the bar.

You finish off your drink just as Natsuo’s is placed in front of him and you try not to feel disappointed when his hand leaves your back but the feeling doesn’t last long anyway. His hand finds its way onto your thigh, grazing over your exposed skin like he’s done this a thousand times.

“You look really hot tonight,” he doesn’t even try to hide the way he’s eyeing you. It’s making you feel shy, you can’t remember him ever looking at you like this before.

“You look great too, Tod– Natsuo!”

He laughs when you fumble your words but it doesn’t make you feel bad, you know he’s just teasing. He takes a sip of his drink and you watch his Adam’s apple bob, suddenly your mouth feels dry.

“I thought you said you didn’t have anything nice to wear, where were you hiding this then?” he asks.

You chuckle weakly and slide your finger against the rim of your cocktail glass, his touch and attention firing you up like never before, “My roommate let me borrow it, I normally don’t wear stuff this revealing.”

You swear Natsuo’s hand slides even further up your thigh as he answers, “Remind me to thank her.”

Before you can respond, he’s calling over to the bartender again. You turn away from him for a moment to hide your embarrassment, taking the opportunity to calm yourself down. When you turn around you’re faced with a shot of liquor in front of you and Natsuo’s grinning face.

He takes his hand off your thigh to throw his arm around your shoulders, squeezing you to his side, “Take a shot with me, sweetheart?”

“Nah, dun’ wanna, I've already drank enough,” you gesture with your empty glass and lean into him more, “Thank you though.”

A small glimmer of disappointment seems to pass over his face at your refusal. You almost open your mouth to change your mind when his expression changes, something in his face you can’t quite read, “Gimme a kiss then.”

“What?”

He tilts his head as his thumb rubs against your arm, “I thought you liked me.”

You blink at him stupidly, have you really been that obvious? Does he actually like you back? “I do!” you almost shout, “I do, I just—!”

Natsuo interrupts you, “So, a kiss?”

He flashes you a pretty smile and takes his shot before leaning over to kiss you, the moment you open your lips slightly he has one hand on the back of your head pushing you to his lips. Instead of his tongue, the taste of vodka fills your mouth.

You press your hands against his broad chest but you can’t make him move, you’re left with no choice but to swallow it down. Even after having a few drinks it burns your throat, you’ve never liked drinking straight liquor. He finally lets you pull away when you start whining against his lips and pushing on his chest.

You manage to cough out, “What the hell?”

“C’mon, I’m sorry, I just wanted you to keep up with me,” Natsuo blinks his big eyes at you and pouts, it’s a good thing you’re easily swayed by handsome men.

You furrow your brows, wanting to be mad at him but needing his attention and approval even more, “Fine, just warn me next time, I guess.”

His face lights up, “Alright, let's do another!”

The night continues like that, despite his meager reassurance he never does quite warn you when he’s going to spit alcohol down your throat. He takes shots off of the trays carried by the attractive bar girls walking around, he orders more and more cocktails for you at the bar, you can’t even remember how much you’ve had to drink.

Each time he brings his mouth or a glass to your lips one of his large, slightly cold hands wraps around your throat. He tells you it’s to make sure you’re drinking it all, as if you could fake it under his watchful eye. You can feel yourself swallow against his palm over and over, every time you polish off a shot he insists you stick your tongue out and show him your mouth is truly empty. Every time you do he gifts you a dazzling smile and says, “Good girl.”

You think you remember your friends leaving to go to the next bar but you’re already too drunk to think about anyone but the man by your side. You and Natsuo stay behind, he doesn’t give you time to think while he steadily plies you with more and more liquor.

The next time he turns to you for a kiss your mouth falls open as you tilt your head back, tongue peeking out from on top of your lips. You keep your eyes closed just waiting for another drink, silently wondering if it’ll be rum or tequila this time. Natsuo grabs your jaw in his hand, despite being on your waist all night it’s still cooler than your skin, and you feel thick, warm spit fall in your mouth instead of a shot. You sigh and swallow it down on instinct before opening your eyes and looking up at him, all hazy eyes and a lazy smile. You watch Natsuo’s jaw clench, his hand travels down from your jaw and lands on your throat.

“Fuck it,” he curses under his breath, squeezing your throat with more force than he’s used all night before he stands up. He slaps down some money on the counter before taking you by the wrist out of the club.

After spending hours with flashing lights and bone rattling bass, the quiet and dimly lit alley behind the club feels almost alien. Your head is swimming, you don’t feel good after all those mixed drinks, and you should feel safe around Natsuo but right now you don’t. You don’t know why but it doesn’t matter, you can sense that your body is all but useless right now, you can't stand up without using him as a crutch. You shiver and wobble slightly in your heels, leaning into Natsuo’s broad shoulder with nearly all your weight as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

“Natsuo,” you hiccup, “Tired, wanna go home.”

He shushes you and pins you to a wall, the concrete digs into your shoulders and you whine as you feebly push his hands away from the bottom of your dress.

“Stop that,” he snaps and smacks your hands away before sliding his fingers between your legs. “You don’t want to go home, pretty girl, you want me to fuck you.”

Your head lolls as his fingertips find your clit through your underwear, “Uh, I don’t—!”

You’re interrupted by Natsuo pressing his lips against yours, the first real kiss he’s given you all night. It shouldn’t feel this good, you shouldn’t be getting felt up in an alley by your crush after he made you drink so much, he knows you can’t say yes or no to what he’s doing. But he is feeling you up, and it does feel good, and somehow the fleeting thought that anyone could see you both makes it even hotter. His hands are everywhere now; one moment they’re sliding up your thighs, the next he’s pulling down your dress to grope your tits and pinch your nipples mercilessly, then they’re back between your legs, your underwear somehow no longer in the way.

“Fuck, do you feel how wet you are?” he’s breathless, almost like it’s not you but him being stuffed with two thick fingers, “How tight you are? You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

You try to speak coherently but it’s too much for you to handle, your mind was already clouded by alcohol and now he’s layering on more and more things. You want this, fuck, you’ve fantasized about him fucking you countless different ways but never like this, but even if you don’t want it like this it feels amazing to finally have him touching you, to have him all to yourself.

Your legs shake as his thumb finds your clit again, sliding your wetness over it as he mouths at your shoulder, kissing and sucking marks into your skin. You’re so overwhelmed you feel tears roll down your face, they drip off your chin into Natsuo’s hair, making him look up at you. He coos before he kisses them off your face.

“Don’t want you to cum yet,” he mumbles against your cheek, “You’re only gonna cum on my cock, okay? I’m gonna fuck you now, I know you want it.”

You watch him wrap your arms around his neck in slow motion and you try to protest but your mouth only seems to work enough to kiss him as he lifts your legs up around his hips.

Your knees hitch up against your shoulders when you feel his cock slide against you, the mewling cries falling from your lips make him smile. He grips the back of your knees with almost bruising force and keeps you folded in half no matter how much you squirm.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already all fucked out? You can’t even talk, I didn’t know you were such a dumb girl,” Natsuo laughs when you shake your head and pushes his cockhead into you slowly, “Come on, speak up if you don’t think you’re dumb.”

He sinks himself into you until his hips are flush with yours, his cock pulsing deep inside you makes you keen. Your mouth opens to tell him that no, no, you aren’t dumb but all you can manage is sticking your tongue out and panting as your tears slide into your mouth.

Natsuo’s face lights up, “You’re so desperate, sweetheart, I love it.”

He leans over you, pushing his cock impossibly deeper into you as he purses his lips to spit onto your tongue. You whimper when he suddenly pulls out of you just to ram himself back in, harsh and ruthless.

“You’re mine now, you know? I’ve gotta fuck you stupid, make sure you think of nothing else but me,” he rasps.

Your tear blurred vision tries to stay focused on his face as he pulls out again, the wet noise of your cunt is so loud it almost echoes in the empty alley when he starts to fuck you in earnest. It hurts, he’s too big and you aren’t prepared to take him, but you want it, you want him, you have for so long. Your body accepts him over and over again until the stretch and burn morphs into pleasure. Your arms stay loose around his neck even when you try to force them to work to hang on, the force of his thrusts making your breath stutter as you try to regain any sense of control.

“Nat–Natsuo!” you finally gasp out, “Please!”

His fingers dig into your skin and he presses another searing kiss to your mouth before praising you, “There she is! My pretty, perfect girl,” you chase his lips sluggishly and whine when he won’t kiss you again, “You’ve gotta beg for it, tell me you want it.”

You can hardly process the words as he continues to stretch your pussy to what feels like beyond its limits with his fat cock, you had hoped your first time with him would’ve involved more romance and a bed but this situation is growing on you. If Natsuo would fuck you like this forever you wouldn’t want nor care about comfort or romance ever again, you just need the feeling of his cock kissing your deepest parts on every thrust inside you.

“Natsuo, fuck me— want it!” you start to ramble, begging through tears that never seem to stop.

“Oh, fuck, yes, just like that, you’re pretty when you beg for me,” he grunts out your name, “Pretty when you cry, too.”

You whine for him to kiss you again and he complies, but only after watching you cry yourself hoarse for a minute more.

His cock hits against you so well, it’s all you can feel beyond your dizziness, the perfect rhythm of him fucking you is all you want to know from now on. You’re growing more and more breathless by the moment, the throbbing of your cunt is becoming too much to bear.

“Wanna cum,” you squeal, finally getting your arms to start working again. You only manage to get your hands on his face as he presses his forehead against yours, “Please, Natsuo, love you s’ much, wanna cum.”

He laughs, “Love me? Do you love me enough to let me cum inside you?”

You hiccup in response, not even really hearing his words. You just think he’s confessing back to you, that’s all you can make sense of. “Yes, yes, Natsuo, I love you!” you cry out as he continues to abuse your cunt.

Your mouth hanging open is the prime target for him to spit into again before he doubles the force of his thrusts, you can’t even swallow as he forces the breath out of you. You can feel your walls quivering around him, clenching down on his cock so deliciously it’s almost enough to make you cum.

“Fuck, good girl, my girl,” Natsuo moans against your lips and somehow just that small bit of praise, that small bit of possessiveness, is the thing that sends you over the edge.

Your eyes flutter shut as electric heat shoots down your spine, fingers shaking and heels digging into his back as you cum. You almost wail when he presses you flat against the wall, covering you nearly completely with his body as the first ropes of his cum start to fill you.

“Oh, God, you feel so– fucking– good!” he spits out, punctuating the last three words with the final thrusts of his hips before humping into you for what feels like forever.

You can hardly move in his grasp as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, plugging your cunt with his cock for as long as he can. He sets your legs down gently, his cum falling down onto your thighs with a lewd sound so loud it makes you cringe. He holds you upright by your elbows as he nuzzles into your neck, kissing and murmuring praise into your skin while he blindly straightens your clothes.

It’s nice at first, you press the side of your face into his neck and bask in your afterglow, but you start to struggle against him when your addled mind starts to piece together what’s happened, pleasure from your orgasm melting into stomach churning nausea when you realize what he’s done. You almost start to cry again when Natsuo lifts his face from your shoulder.

His face isn’t unkind, not quite, just carefully blank. You think that he looks like his father. He grabs your face, his fingertips squish into your cheeks, and jostles you slightly, “You belong to me. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

✰ ✰ ✰

finally wrote a fic with this mfer and of course it was nasty nd gross, hope y’all liked it tho!! 🤍

and to my amazing, incredibly talented beta reader @styxtm i send u a million kisses!

tagging: @cxnicalsweetheart + @dee-madwriter + @moping-bitch + @tenyagf 🤍

#natsuo todoroki x reader #natsuo todoroki x you #todoroki natsuo x reader #bnha natsuo #natsuo smut #📝 — bnha #tw noncon/dubcon #natsuo 🤍#💒.txt #natsuo spit in my mouth please ily king

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flowesona · 5 years ago

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The Hierophant - Yandere! Namjoon x reader

The Tarot Series

“He’s one of the best in the country. Trust me, (Y/N), you have to go to every lecture, even if you don’t want to.” The girl beside (Y/N) rattled on, only stopping every once in a while to take a sip of her Red Bull.

“If you don’t want to go, I’ll gladly take your place, you know.” Her friend continued. “I swear, he’s like… perfect. Gorgeous, smart, rich… I would gladly hop on that, ya know?”

“Oh come on, don’t degrade yourself like that. He’s going to be some musty professor that’ll talk about Sigmund Freud for far too long then set us three chapters to read for tomorrow.” (Y/N) was dreading meeting her new psychology lecturer, no matter how enticing the ideas her friend was feeding to her may be.

“If you say so. But you better run now, or you’ll be late.” Her heart dropped when she checked her watch, seeing as she had two minutes to get to a classroom four minutes away.

In a matter of seconds she gathered all of her leftover lunch together and shoved it in her bag, not even sparing a moment to say goodbye to her friend before dashing off, heart pounding as she ran.

Just as the clock-hands of her watch hit one-thirty, she made it to the classroom, swinging open the door and making her way to the first available seat her eyes landed on, which just so happened to be in the aisle on the first row.

However, once she’d dumped all her bags at her feet, she found that the professor wasn’t there. All of the students were just talking amongst themselves.

“Today was the one day that it’s okay to be late.” The guy next to her chuckled, watching her catch her breath. “What kind of example is he setting for us?”

(Y/N) chuckled breathily, but as if like magic a tall, lean man entered the room, a pile of books and papers stacked on top of each other impressively.

“Good afternoon.” His deep voice reverberated around the room, immediately silencing all the small murmurs. “I apologise for not being punctual, but I had to help one of our more senior members of staff find her keys.”

Kim Namjoon was far from the crumpled old man she’d expected him to be. His face didn’t show a single sign of ageing, despite him having an aura of maturity and expertise that put him high above every other person in the room. His face was neatly combed out of his face, his black rimmed glasses were stylish and perfectly clean. He was the epitome of a perfect man, if such a person could exist.

He smirked seeing the stunned expression on his students’ faces.

“I’m sure that you had very different first impressions of me. But I would like you to hold back until you know more about me. I hope that we can all develop a good relationship.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted across the room, until they met with (Y/N)’s own curious eyes, with something unreadable in his eyes that sent a shiver down (Y/N)’s spine.

Once he’d started the lecture, (Y/N) felt as if she was in another country. The technical way he spoke, his hypnotising good looks. It felt impossible to keep up with him, and before she knew it everyone was packing away their notes. She was stunned for a few seconds but followed suit, unfortunately ending up as the last person in the classroom besides the professor.

“What’s your name?” (Y/N) jumped when she noticed Namjoon in front of her, his large hands resting on the desk.

“(Y/N).” She replied quickly, standing up and ducking her head so she didn’t have to make eye contact.

“(Y/N), if you don’t mind me saying, you seemed to be quite unfocused for the majority of the time. If you need me to slow down my talking pace for you, you just need to ask.” The young woman felt her face flare up in anger at his patronisation. Sure, what he was saying was true, but there was no need to talk to her as if she was unique. Surely the other students were struggling to concentrate as well?

She chose not to respond, slinging her book bag over her shoulder and leaving without a goodbye, determined to study as hard as she could and prove him wrong.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Yet no matter how many hours she spent pouring over textbooks, podcasts, any kind of material she could get her hands on, none of it seemed to work for her. In a moment of desperation she’d downloaded a few of the books written by Kim Namjoon himself, only to give up a few chapters in due to the overly sophisticated language that made every sentence feel like a chore to read.

(Y/N)’s severe lack of understanding was reflected in her grades. Constantly failing tests or just barely scraping by for the entire year. It wasn’t until the end of the year that she decided she would have to sacrifice her pride and talk to Namjoon.

She knocked on his door, waiting for him to call out ‘come in’. Sure enough, she heard his voice - a little raspier than usual - invite her to enter.

The inside of his office was different. It looked messier than usual, and the man himself looked slightly ruffled, his tie undone and suit jacket lying on the back of his chair.

“(Y/N)! How can I help?” He asked, sitting up to look slightly more composed than his surroundings.

“Is something wrong, professor?” She asked, concerned about how the usually neat and proper scholar had fallen.

“Oh, it’s… nothing (Y/N). But thank you for your concern. What brings you here, anyway, besides the pleasure of my company?” Namjoon asked, running a hand through his slightly damp hair to smooth it down.

“I think it’s best that I withdraw from this course, professor. I keep on failing the exams and there’s no way for me to catch up and pass this year. I just can’t afford to keep studying a subject I don’t understand.” He sighed.

“Take a seat for me, (Y/N). We can talk about this.” (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to run, to leave this university and all the pain it had caused her behind, yet she ultimately had no choice but to sit down and shut up.

“So you’re worried about failing? That’s why you want to drop out?” Namjoon queried, brows furrowed as if he was deep in thought.

“Yeah. There’s no point in me paying nine grand a year if I can’t understand what I’m studying.”

“What if I offer you extra credit? From what I can recall, your exams weren’t too bad so we could probably get you a passing grade.” The scholar offered, reaching for his laptop and opening a spreadsheet with a single click.

“We can get you an extra 5%, which should bring you up to Third if your grades don’t improve in the summer exams. I’ve got a range of topics, and I’ll tutor you on whichever ones you choose when you have free time.” His words could not have been sweeter music to (Y/N)’s ears, knowing that passing was not just a fallacious dream and that she wasn’t a hopeless case.

“Thank you so much Namjoon, I’m really grateful for this opportunity!” She smiled, but before she could leave he spoke again.

“Of course, I don’t have to help you if I don’t want to.” (Y/N) froze as he continued. “This will cost me a lot of my valuable time, and I’m under no obligation to tutor you outside of work.”

“Please…” (Y/N) whispered, tearing up.

“You don’t have to pay me, if that was what you were thinking.” He stood up, approaching her until he had her backed up against the door. “I’d rather you pay me with your company. Tonight, you can come to dinner with me. Just one date, so we can get to know each other more intimately, and I can find out about the student I’m giving up my few spare hours to help. Does that sound good?”

“This is sexual harassment… if I reported you you’d be at least suspended by the school board…” (Y/N) choked out, trying to appear tough when her insides were jelly from such close contact with Namjoon.

“You can.” He chuckled. “But then you’ll fail and drop out. You don’t really want that, do you darling?”

(Y/N) swallowed and nodded, breathing out as Namjoon stepped away from her.

“Be ready at seven tonight. And wear something nice, darling. Don’t make me regret my offer.”

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The feeling of Namjoon’s eyes lingering on her figure was bittersweet. She was slightly flattered, but slightly intimidated. This man held her academic career in his hand, and she had to play along with his game if she didn’t want to fail.

‘Maybe it isn’t so bad that he likes you.’ A voice was whispering in the back of her head. ‘He’s “gorgeous, rich, smart”... right?’

She glanced over at Namjoon, immediately meeting his eyes. His hand settled itself on her exposed thigh, the cool metal of his rings contrasting with her warm skin. It stayed there until the taxi pulled up outside some esteemed restaurant, Namjoon pulling out his wallet to pay the driver and telling him to keep the change as he helped (Y/N) out.

She felt slightly awkward as he led her in and asked their water about the booth reservation, feeling the judging eyes of people around her. No doubt criticising her for going on a date with an older man. They were already labelling her as a gold digger, a whore.

“Don’t look at everyone else.” She jumped slightly when she heard Namjoon whisper in her ear. “Just keep your eyes on me, darling.”

Namjoon was clearly more comfortable in this environment than (Y/N). Easily pronouncing the name of some expensive Italian wine for them, along with a dish that she’d never heard of for them both.

But (Y/N) followed his advice, and just kept looking at him as he poured two glasses from the graft of wine, observing the slight bob of his Adam’s apple of he drank from his own glass.

“(Y/N), you should try some.” He indicated towards her glass.

“I-I don’t drink.” She said, but after a few moments of awkward silence, she decided to take a sip.

She hated the taste, but refused to show it on her face, giving him a small smile before setting down the glass.

“Now, (Y/N). Tell me why you decided to take Psychology when you don’t understand the subject?” Namjoon asked.

“I just want to understand people. I thought maybe if I understand why people are the way they are, I can help them.” She explained, taking another sip from her wine. Now that her tongue had adjusted to the bitter palette, she was pleasantly surprised by the taste.

“I see. Not many people take the subject for such a noble cause.” He commented. “Most of my students take it since they want to learn about serial killers or social experiments.”

“And why did you choose psychology as your profession?” (Y/N) retorted.

“There’s something about it that spoke to me. Jungian ideas on how we present ourselves - our persona - versus who we really are - our anima, if you will. I feel like there’s more to a person like you, (Y/N), and I want to see that.” The young woman felt like her head was spinning, from the lights all around her to the alcohol in her system.

“I’m sorry, I need to go to the bathroom. Where is it?”

“Just through that door.” Namjoon smiled watching her walk off. It was so fascinating to talk to her one-to-one. Her mind was something that wasn’t quite captured on her social media, no matter how many hours he spent pouring over her Facebook or Instagram, desperate to see who she really was, and why she drew him in like a magnet. But now, being in a more private environment with her and seeing her real self rather than what she presented online, Namjoon felt that she was even more enticing than before. Of course, he’d jumped at the opportunity to privately tutor her, but he had an idea for things to be more permanent. He didn’t want to just be her quick fix, he wanted to be her everything.

And so, with a glance to make sure no waiters were going to enter, he pulled a small vial out of his pocket, tapping its contents into (Y/N)’s water glass. It wasn’t a particularly strong drug, nor was it fast acting. He would be able to enjoy the rest of their night, and then by the end she would be his.

“Sorry. I don’t think I’m good with alcohol.” (Y/N) gave him a weak smile as she slid back into her seat.

“Don’t worry about it, Darling. Just have some water, okay?” Namjoon said smoothly, as she gave him a gracious nod. As the meal progressed, however, (Y/N) felt her headache getting worse and worse.

“Namjoon, this has been a lovely evening and all, but I need to go home. My head is killing me and I need some ibuprofen.” (Y/N) groaned after they’d finished their desserts.

“Of course. Let me pay the bill and then I can take you home.” Her professor said, rubbing a hand on her back to soothe her as he beckoned their server over.

Just as Namjoon was helping her into the car, (Y/N) felt her mind slip away, collapsing onto the seat.

Namjoon simply explained to the driver that she was unwell, sitting her upright and giving him the address to his own house. The driver didn’t question anything, although with the slight twitch of his lip it was clear how he saw (Y/N), as some rich man’s whore who’d had too much to drink.

Evidently, (Y/N)’s image was nothing compared to her professor, and she still had much to learn on how he worked. Luckily, he was more than happy to teach her, to train her mind, for his own, more personal price.

#yandere #kpop yandere #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere namjoon #yandere kpop #yandere namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #yandere kim namjoon #yandere oneshot #yandere RM #yandere rm x reader #yandere kim namjoon x reader #yandere bts au #yandere bts x reader #RM x reader #the tarot series #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader

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tsukaramachi · 5 years ago

Text

Reunited (Yandere N Harmonia x Reader)

(The image above is from a pokemon valentines event btw not my art. Sorry if my writing sucks :/ The story is also on quotev too and if anyone wants me to post the Yandere akira one too then send me an ask in the ask box please)

“I’m finally coming home…” looking down at the mass of land underneath you as a couple of clouds blocked your vision. You have arrived back home in your own region, Unova. Petting the side of Reshiram’s white feathers, you ponder on where you should land. You thought about paying a visit to your mother in Nuvema town, but it was still a bit far away.

Looking down, you notice how some things have changed since you last visited. From what you’ve heard, your child friends had built a new life for themselves. Cheren became the new first gym leader to challenge the new youth and Bianca is an assistant for professor Juniper. You haven’t been able to hear from them much since they’ve gotten busy, but you still consider them your best friends even after your journey finished.

While reminiscing about your adventures, your hold on Reshiram’s feathers tightens. Prompting the legendary to look at you.

“Ah sorry Reshiram…I was just thinking about my friends…”

You watch as the white dragon breathes out a small breath of fire as if it’s exhaling at your lie. The legendary could clearly tell that you’re upset, but it turns back to looking forward once again. You sigh as you loosen your grip on Reshiram’s feathers and gently pet the area. Sometimes you end up tugging too tightly on its feathers, causing it to grow agitated but it never scolds you for it. For it knows the reason why you’ve been so somber lately.

After your last battle with N. The green haired boy disappeared with Zekrom. You searched all around Unova to find him afterwards and even heard about how some people spotted a giant black dragon flying in the sky. But you could never find him. You even took a journey to a far away regions in hope of finding N, but after two years. You couldn’t find him.

So here you are, finally coming back to your home region.

In the distance, the silhouette of a tower comes into view. Squinting your eyes to try and make out the building. A small smile makes it’s way upon your lips.

Dragonspiral tower, the place where you caught Reshiram and also a place you used to visit quite often. Reshiram flies over to the top of the tower, flapping its wings as it slowly lands on top of the old stone floor. You hop off from Reshiram’s back and throw your arms into the air. Holding your posture, you stretch your body to get rid of the stiffness you felt from sitting for so long. Dropping your hands down, you put your hands on top of your hips.

Taking a look around, the dreary atmosphere makes you feel a bit unsettled. Crumbled white columns and stray debris scattered about isn’t the most comforting, but you’re fond of the tower for something else.

Here, you ventured through the tower along with your pokemon against team plasma. When you reached the top, you witnessed N awaken Zekrom. Then you caught Reshiram at the top of the very same tower. Being here, you could recall one of the memories you had of N. You feel a nudge from the white legendary as it pushes at your back.

You smile and take a hold of its head and pet it gently. It sits down and rest its head on the floor. Sitting yourself down next to it. You lay back against it and doze off.

The sound of shuffling awakens you. Your eyes flutter open, but you’re soon surprised by the image of N’s face close to yours. You freeze in place as you watch him bring up a pale hand to your face. Brushing his fingers against your cheek, you look in awe at him.

Is it really him? The person you’ve been searching for all these years is now finally back? No words seem to make it out of your mouth. What should you even say when you’re so caught off guard?

N smiles at you as he leans in closer to look at you. His green eyes staring intently at yours. His hand lingers on your cheek, but it’s soon pinched. You snap out of your trance and your brows scrunch together.

“Wha-”

A light snicker comes from him. He steps back and flips up into the air. Your eyes widen as you watch the illusion before you fade. His light green fluff of hair grows as it becomes spikier and the green fading away into red and black.

“A zoroark!?” you stumble back into Reshiram, causing the legendary to wake up.

The wild pokemon lands onto its clawed feet, it turns to look at you once again. Its eyes narrow as a grin makes its way across it’s face.

It quickly rushes off and jumps off from the tower, leaving you dumbfounded with the now awake legendary. Taking a second to process what just happened, you snap out of it.

“Reshiram let’s go!” the legendary roars. It leans down as you climb onto its back. It flaps its wings and jumps off the tower, diving down with you clinging closely to its body. You can see the Zoroark look back up at you and it smiles. It lands safely against the floor, but changes into a different pokemon and runs off into the thick forest.

It’s still bright out so you tell Reshiram to follow it. The lengendary’s form shadows over the pokemon as it glides above the trees. Through the leaves, you can still track it. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of it.

The both of you follow the pokemon until it stops in an open clearing. You don’t recognize the area, but it makes you pause. Wild pokemon play happily in the open field surrounded by various wild flowers ranging in color. You can see a group of deerling run around happily and a couple Sawsbuck watching them nearby.

A gust of wind passes through and cottonee and whimsicott drift past you. A sweet scent makes its way to you and you see a pink mist emit from a lilligant dancing around with a couple of other pokemon.

In the distance, you can see the zoroark morph into N again. It raises its hands and waves, but to whom? It’s facing away from you and Reshiram but before you could see whoever comes out. Reshiram suddenly stops and the two of you begin to fall.

Adrenaline rushes through you as you try to keep calm, “Reshiram what happened?!” but the pokemon doesn’t budge. You lose your grip and fall off from the legenday. It’s eyes closed, you call out for it to wake up again. But it’s no use.

Reaching into your pocket. You swiftly pull out its pokeball and call it back. A red light surrounds it as it shrinks and goes back into the ball.

You stuff the ball into your back and shut your eyes. Your only pokemon you have that can fly at the moment is Reshiram and even if you did somehow have a way to stop the fall you don’t have enough time to look through your bag to pull out the right pokemon.

You close your eyes shut as you brace for impact. At least your pokemon are safe…but you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to see them again once you reach the ground.

“Sigilyph, whirlwind!”

A gust of wind circles around you as you’re falling stops. You’re lowered to the grass below. When your foot reaches the ground the wind stops and you fall to your knees. You try to catch your breath as you try to remain calm. You were going to scream, but the event had taken you by surprise making you now feel the fear course through you.

hearing someone get closer to you, you look up to see A darmanitan and the Zoroark that shifted into N from before you fell. The two look at each other and nod.

“Wha… what happened?” you say as you look up at them, you hear something else make its way towards you. But before you can see them, you hear someone murmur a command. Your eyes start to feel heavy, a yawn escapes from your mouth as you try to stay awake. Your arms feel weak causing you to fall onto the soft grass.

“Wait…do you know where…where I can find him?”

———————————-

As N watches peacefully rest. He smiles as he brushes as stray hair away from your face. Ah, it’s been so long since he last saw you. After your final battle, he left to find another way to make his ideals come to fruition. But as he traveled with Zekrom and spent time away from humans. A strange emptiness within him began to grow.

While he was surrounded by the kindness of Pokemon. His interactions with humans lessened with him leaving team plasma and his father being arrested. He was truly free from his old life and while he had ended liberated by you, he had no where to go.

He thought he could find another way to liberate Pokemon without hurting humans, but the feeling of longing made his vision become unclear. Wasn’t just being around Pokemon enough or did he just wish to return to team Plasma? But after seeing that some members had chosen to be passive about it and had gone into hiding, the feeling was still there.

For a while he tried to ignore the feeling by occupying himself by going to different regions to meet different Pokemon. But whenever he tried to act like he was happy it was no use. For the Pokemon he befriended would nudge him to go back to Unova. He wasn’t sure on why, but after recently coming back to Unova. His frisky Zoroark would leave without notice.

He trusts all Pokemon and he always let his Pokemon have the option to leave, but it was a bit strange that the dark type Pokemon had developed the habit of disguising itself as him. Oh but the wonderful surprise that his friends gave him today was so exhilarating.

First, they lead him to an open field deep within the forest that had various Pokemon that lived in the area. He was able to laugh and interact with each and every one just like how he used to as a child.

It was fun and it took his mind off of the foreign feeling, but when Zekrom started to act strangely. He could tell something was coming for how the legendary would stare off towards the same direction.

But he never thought that he would be rushed out to see you again. He couldn’t understand it but once he saw you, he asked a nearby group of Petilil to use sleep powder on the legendary. Which caused it to stop and fall towards the ground. He then had to command his Sigilyph to use whirlwind to cushion your fall to keep you safe.

While the sleep powder didn’t hit you directly, some of it had gotten onto you which made you fall asleep after reaching the ground. He didn’t mind though, it was perfect.

Now, he’s able to watch you rest peacefully by his side. No conflict and being here with you put him as ease. The feelings that pestered him so vanished like thin air when you’re with him and now he understood what those feelings are: it’s love.

He didn’t notice it before but the feeling had blossomed whenever he would see you. In Accumula Town, in front of Nacrene gym, and on the ferris wheel in Nimbasa City. With every meeting, he wanted always anticipated for you to come and he thought of you as some type of rival. But as time went on he realized that you, you’re someone special. Someone who has a strong bond with their Pokemon and is able to understand them without needing to speak to them. He couldn’t believe it before, but after his final fight with you. He missed you terribly so.

Whenever he was riding on Zekrom’s back, he would look down as if he was searching for you. Whenever someone that looked remotely similar to you passed by, he would take a second glance every time to see if it was truly you. At night he had dreamt of you and woke up in the morning to feel emptiness in his heart. He had thought that maybe he was growing paranoid but his friends knew what it really was. Pokemon truly understand more than he ever could.

Raising his hand up to his mouth, N chuckles to himself as he can’t help but find you cute like a sleeping Munna.

“I know you can’t hear me now, but I’ve been wanting to tell you this (Y/N)…” N takes out a one of his golden square bracelets from his left wrist. Slipping the object around around your own, “I love you, (Y/N)… I thought I could be happy seeing Pokemon liberated from being used as tools, but now I’m selfishly wanting more. I want you to be there by my side…I want only you with me and the thought of being away from you again pains me to think of it. You tore away the world’s black and white visage that I had when I was king of team plasma, and I can’t help but wish for you to stay by my side so I won’t ever lose my way again…”

Leaning down towards you, he tenderly brushes the back of his hand against your soft skin. After two long years he’s reunited with you once again and this time. He doesn’t plan on leaving or letting you go.

#yandere #yandere male #male yandere #N #n harmonia #My writing #writing

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