⇢ the avatar: the last airbender meets anastasia fic that no one asked for.
notes: no lie, this fic nearly broke me. it’s twice as long as i thought it would originally be, and i spent at least two hours total scrutinizing a map of the avatar world planning their journey. i really, genuinely don’t know if this is even any good at this point. i feel like i’ve never written a coherent sentence in my life. i’ve read this over four times and words have lost all meaning, so please. let me know if you enjoy it! 🙏💕
warnings: welcome to trope city i’m lia the mayor, sope are con men, yoongi says “fuck” one (1) time, there’s a zhao in this fic and he’s not intended to be admiral zhao but he *is* based off of him because admiral zhao is a big fat turd, on second thought it is entirely possible that yoongi actually says “fuck” twice, liberties were Taken and i have no regrets!!!
When you dream, you dream of fire.
Violent flames paint the horizon, ashy plumes of smoke rising up into the darkened sky. Soot rains down from the heavens, turning the snow black beneath your feet, and every breath you take fills your lungs with burning, putrid air. Everywhere you look, you see smoke. Your hands shake and your eyes sting, unbidden tears spilling forth to wet your cheeks. Off in the distance, you hear people screaming, their voices laced with desperation and anguish.
Vaguely, you think you hear someone shouting your name.
I was depressed
Had a breakdown and wrote something sad and sweet
Bone Apple Tea
Song: If the World Was Ending (JP Saxe ft. Julia Michaels)
Pairing: Namjoon x Yoongi
Warnings: Emotional infidelity (not between them), MCD, Basically bittersweet ending
(Posting this on tumblr because I read it again and my own work made me cry)
**************
He’d spent weeks thinking about how he’d like to spend his final day on earth since he’d first heard the news. He’d already gotten all his big wishes out of the way - everything from spending lots of time with his family and friends to finally getting a huge tattoo. He’d taken in a cat and a dog since rescues were now just giving them away. He ate as many delicious meals as he wanted until his cheeks filled and his chest expanded - always the first to go when he gained weight.
He’d even gone back to Daegu for a while and walked the streets of his old neighborhood, soaking up the memories until the sky turned crimson and the air became riddled with more pollution than their usual yellow dust.
He’d spent lots of precious time with his members and life-long friends once he returned. All the guys were older and established with their own families, so they would understandably be spending their last day with them, but they still spared time for their lifetime bachelor Suga hyung.
He wasn’t ashamed to say every single one of them had cried in each other's arms. They’d all gone through so much together - grew up together, really - and they’d lived a good life until now. He’d reverted into his role of Bangtan Father Figure and comforted them as much as he could, holding their youngest members as they clung to him and cried into his seven million won jacket. The final goodbyes with his members had been even harder than the ones with his parents and brother. Poor Jungkook had cried so hard that Seokjin had to carry him to his car, and Hobah hadn’t been much better.
That had been yesterday, though, and now all of his members were safely ensconced in their homes with their families to wait out their final day on Earth before the planet killed them all.
He’d never looked into every detail of the circumstances. Didn’t feel like he needed to because he grasped the basics - global warming, planet combusts, everything dies. Today was the day the news had announced was the suspected D-day, and judging by the way the world was crumbling around them, it was accurate.
As it was, breathing was getting harder and the temperatures were scorching. The sky had been a canvas of crimson, orange, and yellow for days. Debris fell from the sky as bits of the planet itself were obliterated. The scientists had predicted that the planet wouldn’t be completely destroyed, only just enough to kill everything and everyone off. Then in perhaps hundreds of years or more, life could begin again. He could only hope that if the afterlife were a thing, his spirit would survive and he’d be reborn with his members again.
Ah , he sighed into his drink. He’s getting sappy. He didn’t even really believe in reincarnation or anything. But he’d want to be reborn and live next to him again.
He closes his eyes and rolls the whiskey on his tongue as he settles into his recliner. He grabs the remote and hovers his thumb over the button, preparing himself mentally for what he’s about to watch. He exhales heavily and presses it, setting the controller down nearby in case it becomes too much and he needs to turn it off and finally turns his attention to the screen.
The video comes to life slowly as an incredibly young version of himself peeks into view and grins at the camera while he adjusts the stand it sits on. The quality isn’t great because he’d purchased the old thing second-hand but it did the job.
Yoongi shakes his head as he observes himself, noting the lack of his current wrinkles and the slim - nearly starving - physique. Not that he wasn’t still looking pretty damn good for someone that just turned forty-three.
The boy in the video had just left home and joined BigHit. They still haven’t formed an actual group, he’s still at the bottom of every evaluation, and his knees are skinned and rubbed raw from trying to keep up with all the dancing. But his eyes are bright and he’s smiling at another kid that runs inside the dance studio.
“Hyung, I’m back! Mom packed some dinner for you. Make sure you eat it all before the manager comes in.”
The young Namjoon is a gangly thing with arms and legs that are too long for him to handle. He bends and smiles into the camera then shoves the fabric-wrapped bundle of food at Yoongi, watching him fondly as he shovels the food down his throat. Namjoon had always gone home to his parents at least once a week and always made sure to bring his starving roommate extra food. Their diets at the time had been brutal.
Yoongi observes the two of them on the video, shaking his head as he watches them practice (very badly) some choreography to get them through the next evaluation.
His idea for starting this video had been a little sad. He hadn’t been sure he would make it. He’d hoped and dreamed - worked his ass off - but you can never be completely sure of what the future holds. He’d always been more of a hope for the best but prepare for the worst kinda guy. So he’d bought the old camera and decided to film what he could so that when he someday was kicked out and had to go back to working some mundane retail job, he could look back at the memories.
Only each clip that he added to the files of videos over the years showed them rising higher and higher. And he always made sure to get lots of close-ups of the man that held his heart.
Not that he’d ever admitted that bit out loud, but it was no less true. He thought he could almost see himself falling as he watched the videos, observing the two of them go from teenage boys with alpha complexes to being best friends in chronological order. Not that they always got along - even they had their fiery battles where Namjoon could be the pettiest bitch alive and Yoongi had the magical ability to say exactly what could hurt the most. But they both had the same dream and both were stubborn as hell so they’d learned their way around each other. Eventually, Yoongi realized that the feelings of respect he’d developed for his friend and member kept growing until it was verging on dangerous.
He’d always known he wasn’t quite…straight. Maybe not gay. Bi? Whatever. He’d never really liked labels. He’d had crushes on a few girls in high school and a few crushes on some male celebrities. He’d planned on marrying a woman and having kids to make his parents happy eventually, but he’d never felt for anyone else what he felt for Kim Namjoon. No matter how many blind dates he’d been set up on or escorts and models he’d fucked - not a single one of them was able to erase the way his heart skipped a beat when that big smile with his ridiculously deep dimples was aimed at Yoongi.
However, his defining characteristics were that he’s a true Pisces and a workaholic, so he did what he did best - pined from afar and threw himself into his work. He’d done that successfully all these years, even as his members grew up, found their own loves, and created their own lives outside of their group. He found his version of happiness filling the world with his music.
Still, he’d never stopped filming the videos. He’d never posted them publicly like JK had with his GC films. These weren’t for the world to see. These were memories that he kept for himself. For days like today, he supposed, when he was sitting all alone and facing the end of the world with just a drink and his precious memories.
Surprisingly, he seemed to have kept them fairly balanced between the members. He had as many clips of the kids being silly as he did of Namjoon or himself. Lots of them hanging out in their old dorms, graduations, and silly teen antics. A bunch of videos of them drinking and acting stupid, usually having heated debates over absurd topics for fun, and Namjoon drunkenly discussing philosophical shit that put the younger ones to sleep.
All their big moments he caught on film usually the second the Bighit cameras were gone, so he had lots of clips of them sobbing after winning their first awards.
Actually, after that first award he’d had to pause the clip for a moment, staring at the way Namjoon was looking into the camera. At the time, he’d probably missed it or dismissed it - he didn’t remember. But now…the way that Namjoon stared into the camera…was because Yoongi was behind it. He was puffed up with pride and had that gorilla chin thing going on, but there was something else there. Something that made current Yoongi’s chest flutter dangerously.
He fast-forwarded through other scenes for the next hour, noticing the trend. Namjoon would melt whenever Yoongi busted out his old camera and looked into the lens like the two of them were the only ones there.
Huh.
He’d never even noticed. He’d always been caught up in the moments as well, so maybe that was why. Or maybe the obliterated ozone was making him hallucinate. Whatever. He saw…something there.
Or maybe he was just grasping for something to hold onto during his final moments.
He sighed and slid from his seat, intending to top off his drink and maybe grab a pack of cookies. One benefit of being hours from death - no dieting.
He put a few cookies on a plate, stared at it, then set the whole package on the tray as well. Then he grabbed his bottle of whiskey - a forty-five-year-old single malt scotch that he threw thousands down for that tasted just barely better than the stuff he bought at the grocery store for fifty won - and prepared himself another glass.
He carried his tray of goods back to his seat and settled back in to watch more, pausing now and then to give the Maltese he’d adopted a cookie.
After a few hours, the lights started to flicker and he stood up to peek outside. The sky was a violent crimson now, shot with orange and smatterings of black. There were small fires all over the city as things burned and crumbled. A cloud was in the far distance - crimson as everything else - but swirling and filled with debris. He figured that was probably going to be what took him out. He had no idea how he was staying as calm as he was.
He took a shaky breath and reached down to pet the grey cat he’d adopted along with the Maltese. They were both anxious but dealing with it well.
The cat meowed and twirled around his legs.
“What do you need, Mellodi? Are you hungry?”
He hums and leads the cat to the kitchen, the little white fluffball he’d named Gangaji (because he didn’t have the brain power left to think of anything better and it’s not like the pup would have to live with it forever) following them for a treat of his own.
He fixes them the wet food he’d gotten from the shelter and watches them for a moment, wishing he’d gotten them sooner. It was nice having someone to take care of at home.
He leaves them to their supper and goes back to the living room, realizing he’d forgotten to pause the video. It was playing the moment he’d busted out his old camera as Namjoon got ready for his wedding. He’d looked amazing - of fucking course he had.
His hair had been dyed black and he’d gone with the usual black and white tux, but with little Namjoonesque accessories.
And holy fuck, there was that look again. Namjoon stared into the lens right into Yoongi’s soul, smiling a little.
“Hyung. I should do this, right?”
He remembered how he’d practically heard alarm bells when Namjoon had said that.
“You should only do what you want to do, Joon. You don’t have to marry someone to love them. Is this something you want?” He heard himself say and nodded at his sage wisdom.
Namjoon sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I care about her and I’m excited to have a family.”
He turned to the camera again and grinned into the lens.
“You ever wanna get married, hyung? Or are you strictly dickly these days?”
Yoongi had scoffed playfully. “Maybe. I’m in no rush. Plus, you know, I’m hard to deal with.”
Namjoon shook his head and frowned into the camera.
“You’re perfect, hyung. Not traditionally perfect, perhaps, but the perfect Yoongi. You know? You don’t need to change or become someone that is “easy to deal with.” Someone will learn to fit themselves to your puzzle piece instead of jamming them together - like we did. You know?”
Namjoon had veered so much into his metaphor land that he nearly sounded like Taehyung.
“Yeah, I hear you. And you’ll be good too.”
Namjoon nodded, then took a deep breath. His eyes flattened into slits as he stared at Yoongi.
“I love you, hyung.”
“Love ya too, babo.”
Yoongi stared at the screen, breathing in shakily. Fuck, he loved that man so much. He rewound the video, staring at Namjoon’s face as he said the words again.
“I love you, hyung.”
He could almost pretend they were said the way he’d always wanted to hear them.
He sighed wearily and scratched the cat’s head when she jumped on him for attention. No sense dwelling on this now.
He shut off the TV and leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling while he continued to pet the cat. The clocks all over the house showed that it was almost ten in the evening now, which explained why he was starting to feel a little tired. Maybe he should just spend his last moments on earth doing what he loved best - napping.
He nods to himself and groans as he heaves himself from the chair. He begins to shuffle towards the bedroom with his two new shadows following behind him when he hears his door rattle.
Gangaji gives a single tiny bark and then he hears a knock. Not just any knock, but a series of four followed by a pause then two more. Namjoon’s knock.
Yoongi’s eyebrows practically fly off his face in his surprise. He quickly jogs towards the door and messes with the locks, suddenly annoyed at his demand that there be at least four of them. Finally, he lifted the last latch and swung the door open, staring up in wonderment as Kim Namjoon stood there heaving heavy breaths as the world crumbled behind him.
“What the fuck are you doing, Namjoon? Get the fuck inside!”
He pulls the man into his apartment, his face turning bright pink from the small blast of heat and his worry.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with your wife and kids. You could have gotten seriously hurt! You could have… there's like fire out there and probably lava and shit and…”
Yoongi’s rant is muffled when a big hand grabs him by the shirt and pulls him closer. Namjoon is looking down at him - beautiful, glorious Namjoon who is a little bit sweaty from running around out there and has a cut on his arm - and Yoongi’s protests die.
Namjoon is giving him the look from the video. The one that made his heart race and his stomach feel like he ate stew that had been on his Halmoni’s stove for five days straight.
“I couldn’t do it.”
Yoongi screws his nose in confusion. “Couldn’t do what?”
“I couldn’t live my last night on earth in a lie. I couldn’t…I tried to lay down with Aera and the kids but I just kept thinking of you here alone and…”
Oh. It was a charity thing.
He forces a smile and pats his friend’s chest. That bouncy and plump chest that he still had after all these years…
He cleared his throat to make his straying thoughts cease.
“You don’t have to worry about hyung, Joon. I got a couple of kids myself and I’m good. You need to go home,” he waves a hand carelessly and shows Namjoon the animals he’d gotten.
Namjoon stares at them for a second and it’s obvious that he has to fight the urge to reach down to the puppy. He shakes his head and stares at Yoongi again, his gaze tightening with some sort of resolve.
“No, hyung. The lie is that my home isn’t you . I want to be here with you . I love you and I always have. You don’t have to do anything just…let me stay with you.”
Yoongi’s heart is hammering in his chest as he stares up at his friend. “Like…romantically?”
Namjoon’s smile quirks and he raises his eyebrow. “Yeah, hyung. Like romantically.”
“How long?”
Yoongi wasn’t sure that the answer mattered anymore, but he was curious.
“Long time. Years and years. All the reasons why I didn’t go for it seem stupid and irrelevant now. But I…I just wanted to be selfish. Can I just…be selfish for today? Our final day on earth and I want to…” his head drops and Yoongi can hear his voice begin to wobble. “I want to die with you in my arms. I want to hold you and tell you I love you and that…that even though I don’t believe in reincarnation I want to just so we can do better next time.”
Yoongi leans forward and presses his forehead into Namjoon’s chest. He breathes in deeply - taking note that underneath the sulphuric odor from outdoors, he was still wearing that fancy body wash scent.
“I want that too,” he whispered, deciding fuck yeah, they can be selfish. He’d been sharing Namjoon with the world for twenty-five years. He deserves one fucking night.
“Yeah?” Namjoon tilts his head up by his chin. “I kinda suspected sometimes that maybe you too but…do you love me? Like romantically?” He grins.
Yoongi sighs dramatically, an answering shy smile tilting his lips. “Yeah, like romantically.”
Namjoon gives his real smile then, the one that shows both dimples and the shine from his teeth could power a small country. Yoongi always loved Namjoon’s smile.
Silently, he lets Namjoon lead them to the bedroom. He nods at the other's feet and Namjoon clumsily kicks off his shoes and - after sneaking a peek at Yoongi - snakes out of his jeans too. Yoongi climbs into bed and watches as Namjoon lowers himself next to him. How many nights had he laid in this very spot wishing he’d look over and see this very sight?
Namjoon sighs as he lays his head on the pillow and reaches for Yoongi. The smaller man allows himself to be pulled closer and molded into the cage of Namjoon’s larger frame. He takes a deep breath and laces their legs together, pointedly ignoring the sound of glass breaking from somewhere in the living room. The animals race to get under the bed and he ignores that too, focusing only on the fact that he’s finally where he belongs at last.
“I love you,” Namjoon rumbles, smiling happily. “Love you. Feels so good to finally get to say it.”
Yoongi knows exactly what he means. Feels the need to say it over and over again like it’s a ward to keep him safe.
“Love you, Kim Namjoon,” he sighs, reaching an arm across the small waist to pull himself even closer to him. Fuck, if he could figure out how to meld themselves together he totally would.
Namjoon reaches out a large hand to tilt Yoongi’s face up, kissing him softly. Petal soft kisses span his entire face as Namjoon kisses first his lips, then his nose, both of his closed eyelids and finally his forehead before placing his hand on top of Yoongi’s head and playing with the strands.
The sound of wood splintering has Yoongi whimpering and trying to get closer still, even if it’s physically impossible.
The end was here at their beginning.
“Hyung. I’ll love you next time too, okay? Don’t forget.”
It’s getting harder to breathe as toxic fumes reach them and Yoongi fights to keep his eyes open. He stares hard at the man holding him, the love of his life. Of all his lives, if he had his way. The one he grew up with, fought with, dreamed with, loved with all his heart.
“I’ll remember, Joon. Go to sleep now. I love you.”
He watches as Namjoon tries to take one last huge breath, then his eyes shut and his arms tighten around Yoongi. He stares for one more second and then closes his own, sleeping forever in the arms of his love.
Warnings: Very mild peril and angst, tooth-rotting fluff, smut - fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!Namjoon.
For almost as long as you can remember, the tree stood opposite your apartment has been a part of your life. Countless memories have been made under the shade of its supple branches, but when its existence comes under threat, you soon discover that your favourite tree is more special to you than you ever could’ve known.
As fast as your little feet had been able to carry you, you’d run, furious; hurtling across the grass towards the group of young boys congregated around the base of your apple tree, their figures cast in shade under its far-reaching branches.
Of course, you didn’t know it was your tree back then - a tree just like any other, no dissimilar to the many others you’d ever seen - but that hadn’t kept you from watching them from your spot from way over by the swings; narrowed eyes, scowling and suspicious. Huddled together, it was obvious even to you that the curl of their shoulders meant that they must be up to no good.
Their unfamiliar presence in your park had been worrisome enough, but when one of them had drawn out a switchblade from his back pocket, waving it around in front of his friends only to then turn and gouge its sharp blade straight into the bark of the tree, you were left with no choice but to leap into action.
At six tender years old you’d marched over to that group of boys, unafraid. Being several years your senior, they were far less than intimidated by the sight of a young girl in long socks and overalls, copying a pose she’d seen her mother wear before. They hadn’t even really noticed you were there until you’d cleared your throat to demand their attention, small hands fisted on your then non-existent hips, and even then, the ring-leader had refused to acknowledge you. He was far too busy carving out a word your innocent mind did not yet recognise at such an age, tongue poking out of the corner of his lips in concentration.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you’d informed them without a hint of fear, so sure were you of your convictions. The closest boy to you (you’d seen him at school before, you’d thought. The older brother of one of the girls in your class?) had scowled hard at you, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Why not?” he’d snorted.
“Because,” you’d replied, matter of fact, “You’re hurting it."
"It’s just a tree,” another boy had said with a shrug of his shoulders, his tone as entirely apathetic as his stance had been.
“But they have feelings,” you’d said emphatically, your bottom lip jutting out when the boys around you began to laugh at your expense. Their mocking was finally loud enough to pull the attention of the black-haired boy with the knife and he’d turned, blade in hand.
ღ summary: Your fear of needles always kept you from getting piercings, but after a year of wanting a septum piercing, you swallow your nerves and head to the Butterfly Tattoo Studio. What you don’t expect is the piercer to be hot as fuck!
ღ: wc: 3.8k
ღ warnings: cursing, mention of nervousness, piercing of septum in detail, needles (and fear of needles), tattooed!hoseok, pierced!hoseok (nostril, septum, tongue), lightheadedness, making out, sex in a workplace (hoseok’s), fingering (f. receiving), spit kink, hair pulling, oral sex (f. receiving), vibrating tongue ring, mention of masturbation, squirting, hoseok kisses jimin
I’m writing this to give you all, the ones who are still here even tho I’ve been basically hiatus for a while now, with some posts here and there. You probably all, also, saw this coming, but I’m sadly done writing.
God, im crying lmao.
Anyways, I realized after constantly trying to write something, outline, everything, I couldn’t write anymore. Maybe it’s because I went through a severe abusive relationship at the beginning of April 2022 to the end of November of 2022, and it completely changed me as a person. I lost a lot of love, likes, whatever you may call it, from that relationship. It changed me, and one of the things it changed in me was my love for writing. My spark isn’t here anymore, and I’ve been trying to hold on for the last possible year and a half for you guys, but it hasn’t happened. I’m afraid of change, I’m afraid of letting go, and have a bad time of accepting the fact that i mayve grown out of a phase, you know? My love for the boys will always be there, always.
What has also caused me lots of stress, and is a sign of losing my spark, has been trying to write and come up with ideas, and creat stories for those who have messaged me privately, and I feel terrible for not being able to do that, and I hate breaking promises/not keeping my word because I wanted to make you guys happy, and I’ve failed those individuals. I’m sorry for not finishing those requests, and I’m sorry that I never actually started them because I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make you happy, but I couldn’t get anything out and so I sat for the longest time, trying to get a good paragraph, or in a general a sentence out, but i couldn’t and I didn’t.
And I’ve sadly relapsed the other night after almost 2 years of being clean from s/h. My depression has been in the dumps, and even tho I have so many positives going on in my life and such amazing people, and an amazing partner, my mental health is deteriorating and I need to focus on myself.
I know I’ve once done a short hiatus before and came back because sometimes a small break is good to have, but sometimes all things must come to an end, and I’m officially closing my chapter with tumblr and writing for good.
I’ve made a couple of friends on here, and those friends I want to address real quickly and say my peace.
@wickizer , girl you know everything and ily
@minniepetals . My gosh, I remember reading your story String of Fate when it first came out, and I swore up and down, still today I do, that it’ll be published in the hall of fame. Despite it being on its hiatus, it’s still the best story so far. You deserve an award for your writing, and your story Cry Me A River is such an amazing masterpiece. I’ve been meaning to read it all, but life has gotten in the way and I’m so proud of you. Even tho we haven’t talked in the longest time, I’m still cheering you on, on here and outside of tumblr.
@aft3rhrs . Love, you’re amazing and I hope you take care of yourself and take time for yourself. Self love and self kindness is a priority and make yourself a priority. Your writing is beautiful and I’m glad we befriended each other. I’m cheering you on, and always will. Thank you for being a kind person.
And every other writer that I bonded with on here, I love you and will be a huge cheerleader for you. To those who I reached out to when I was still new for advice, or for me to fangirl to, thank you for being kind and helpful.
And to my followers, the ones who cheered me on to keep writing when I first joined tumblr, thank you for being kind and supportive. I love each and every single one of you. You made this place a safe place for the longest time, and I’m thankful for all of you.
I’m sorry for the longest apology and me basically dumping my issues on here, I just needed to be honest with you all. I didn’t want this to sound like a ‘poor me’ ‘feel sorry for me’ but I needed to, like I said before, be honest with you.
This is scary for me, but this is me saying goodbye.
Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff
Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty.
Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,
Explicit warnings under the cut.
Word Count: 10,488
Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM
A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!
A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much
A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.
Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....
Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.
Intimate. That would be a better choice.
From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.
The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.
You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.
He’ll be back for another soon.
While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.
Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.
Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.
And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.
Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.
Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.
Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.
Most of the time.
You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.
“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”
“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.
Fucking incubi demons…
You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.
You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.
You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”
Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.
Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.
They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.
It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.
You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.
“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.
And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.
“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”
There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.
“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.
It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.
Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty.
But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.
Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.
Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.
It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.
He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.
“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”
To which you think again, fucking incubi…
Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.
You learned your lesson.
So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!
You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.
From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.
Which can only mean one fucking thing.
You just lost all your tips for the night.
Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.
Fuck.
“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.
“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.
You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.
“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’
You know exactly where it is.
No one else will touch it.
Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.
No one serves him but you.
But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.
You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.
You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.
After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,
“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”
He didn’t take another breath.
A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.
“Thanks,” You’d said.
“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.
Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.
But he was more than pleased.
After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.
He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.
Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.
A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.
Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;
‘One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.’
You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.
‘Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,
Eleven for health,
Twelve for wealth,’
You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.
“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”
He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”
You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.
“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”
He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”
“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”
You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.
No one calls the Devil by his first name.
Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.
And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.
No one except you.
What a funny little exception you are.
Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”
You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.
You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.
“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.
Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.
“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.
He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…
“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.
Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.
You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.
Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…
Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.
You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.
The King of Hell.
He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.
Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.
Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.
He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.
You have to stay away from him.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.
As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.
It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.
There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.
“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”
Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.
Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.
The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.
Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.
You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.
All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.
And maybe he is.
But not to you.
The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.
You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.
The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.
And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.
It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.
You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.
Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.
They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.
All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.
Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.
Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.
You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.
You needed this.
A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.
You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.
“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.
“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.
You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”
Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.
In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.
Yoongi.
God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.
Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.
Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.
And he looks like sin incarnate.
Fitting.
Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?
Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.
Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.
When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.
Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.
Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.
They were all you.
Maybe his plan was working after all…
“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.
What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.
“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”
He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.
“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.
A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.
“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”
Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.
Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.
Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.
You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.
“What do you think?”
Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.
“May I touch?”
You don’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.
“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.
This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”
Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.
Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.
The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.
“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..
Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.
Beautiful.
“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.
“My birthstone,” you reply.
“Your birthstone.”
You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.
“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”
“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.
Makes you wonder what he promised.
Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.
Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.
Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.
Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.
What is he doing to you?
“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.
“Mmm?”
“Would you like to dance?”
Fuck would you ever, but wait—
“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.
Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.
“Is that something you’d be interested in?”
“Yes.”
You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.
“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.
Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.
Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.
They don’t know about Yoongi.
They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.
You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.
You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.
You’ve decided.
To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.
To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.
You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.
But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.
You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.
“Let’s go to yours.”
“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”
Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.
“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.
Fuck, you don’t want to wait.
And apparently neither does Yoongi.
“Do you trust me?” He asks.
“Yes, but what does tha–”
“Close your eyes for me, Love.”
Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.
So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.
You trust Yoongi.
“That's a good girl.”
One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.
Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?
But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.
What?
“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.
Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.
“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.
Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.
He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.
“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”
You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.
There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.
Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.
Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.
“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.
He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.
Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.
You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”
You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.
“Please what, Love?”
“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”
“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”
“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.
“There she is.”
Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.
They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.
Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.
“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”
His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.
“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”
You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.
“I need to hear it.”
“I understand.”
“Understand what?” He pushes.
“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.
“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.
The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.
“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”
Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”
He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.
“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”
Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”
His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.
“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.
Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.
If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.
Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.
“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”
He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.
He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.
“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.
“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.
He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.
“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”
Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.
“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”
“And if I do?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”
Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”
“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.
And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.
Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.
Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.
“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.
Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”
“Whatever you want, Angel.”
Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.
“Fuck—”
Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.
“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”
Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.
“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”
The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.
Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.
“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”
His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.
You’re the most powerful person here.
You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.
And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.
“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.
Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.
“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”
His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.
“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”
“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.
You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.
Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.
This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.
This is about you.
And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.
You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.
You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.
Perfect in every single way.
“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”
He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.
“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”
You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”
“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.
“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.
“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”
The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.
Not yet.
You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.
Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.
Ever.
And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.
He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.
There was only you.
Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.
And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.
It’s time for him to finally claim you back.
“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”
“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”
Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.
“Only for you, Yoongi.”
His thrusts stutter.
“Fuck!”
He’s coming.
He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.
It’s the first time he’s said your name.
And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.
You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.
Whatever you want. Whatever you need.
It’s yours.
He’ll make it so.
At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.
He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.
You got exactly what you wanted.
He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.
And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.
“What changed?”
“Hmm?”
“What about tonight made you change your mind?”
You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”
That seductive smirk makes an appearance.
“Yes.”
“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”
Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.
“Next time,” he says. A promise.
You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.
“What about you?” you ask.
“What about me?”
“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”
He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.
“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”
“My soul?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve never asked for mine before.”
“Never needed it.”
At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”
“You.”
Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.
You just know it.
“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”
You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.
You never expected anything like that.
You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.
Kindness. Patience.
The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.
Because of you.
“I don't know what to say.”
“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”
You can do that.
“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.
Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.
“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.
“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.
He was yours now.
The Devil was yours.
King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.
“Oh thank fuck.”
“Not thank God?” you tease.
Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”
A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3
Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.
Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.
A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!
- Tae 🥰💜✨
Request to join my taglist here!
Masterlist
Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.
You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.
“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.
“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”
“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.
After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.
“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.
“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.
“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”
You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.
“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”
You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.
“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”
“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”
“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”
“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.
“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.
“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.
“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.
“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.
“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”
“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”
“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.
“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”
Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.
“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.
“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”
Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.
“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”
“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”
“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.
“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.
A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.
“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.
“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.
“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”
“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.
“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.
It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.
Summary : Being with one hot and popular singer was difficult. Then, how about two?
Inspo. : D-Day Concert the final | Bts 10th anniversary firework show
[ Yoongi alone in his concert was lethal enough. Adding Jungkook on the stage...oh, god...they literally burned the stage.]
Photos & Gifs : reserved for rightful owners
Author POV.
"Shiiiibaaaaallllll"
The crowd screamed as the lead singer growled.
The light threw different shades here and there, from red to purple to blue and orange.
"Party party yah!"
Another deep growling joined. The chorus excitedly popped up from the hydrolic lift floor.
Now both of them held the arena's attention completely. Looking into one's eyes, they started battling their voice.
To level up the fight of dominance, the bass and drum went wild, matching their singers' energy. While the keyboard, as a backbone of this song, calmly matched the beat.
"I swear they were too much sometimes. How are they going to do the interview after this?"
The manager looked at the monitor and sighed. Despite complaining, he knew he could do nothing.
"They were always like this...always."
Y/n spoke. Watching them proudly, the old memory flashed in front of their eyes. The image of them in their school uniform collided with the now version of them. The sight made them chuckled.
Well, that really was how Yoongi and Jungkook are.
10 years ago
"Why are you here?"
The both of them pointed at each other. Their expression showed nothing but irritation.
"Brief intro for you guys. This is Jungkook, our new member. JK, this is Yoongi, our lead singer."
Y/n introduced the two to each other, even though, it looked like they had already known each other.
"So this is our new chorus? Can he?" Yoongi smirked while provoking the newcomer.
"Can't I be the lead singer. I bet I'm better than this old man." Jungkook, who cared nothing about seniority, challenged Yoongi for the position.
And that was how everything started between the two. Their journey of chaotic friendnemy.
"I still remember how they fought no end. They even broke into fist fight."
Y/n smiled at the old memory. They could feel the nostalgic shock yet delight as if it happened yesterday.
That was understandable though.
Because....they were the cause of the fight.
"Dipshit, you can compete with me on anything, but not Y/n."
The side of Yoongi's lip had some blood seeping. His hand painted red so did his face.
"Why? If you like them, say it! I'm not like you, Agust. I like Y/n and I have guts to say what I feel."
Jungkook shout out his confession, even though, the left side of his cheek got a bruise. His blood was boiling as the older stopped him from his plan.
Y/n stood in front of the door, frozen. They didn't want to believe what they had just witnessed.
"It shouldn't be like this." Y/n mumbled to themselves.
For months, Y/n distanced themselves from the band. The rest of the members couldn't hide it and told their singers why Y/n didn't show up at their studio. The two of them kept apologizing to Y/n afterward.
Well, that was in the past. Now everything between them was good. Their feelings, their problems, everything fell into their places perfectly.
"Y/nie how was it?" Jungkook was about to throw his sweating body toward them, however, Yoongi was quicker.
"Not so fast, kid. We gotta get change first."
A giant bunny pouted before following Yoongi to the changing room. Y/n giggled at the two of them.
From enemy to brother, their relationship was like a roller coaster.
*In the changing room*
"Everything's ready." The staff adjusted suit one last time before let Yoongi and Jungkook go.
"Hyung...this is it. Will they say yes?" Jungkook asked his older friend. His hands were shaking.
Yoongi didn't answer anything. The older one seemed to be well-prepared, yet his eyes couldn't hide his worry.
As much as they wanted to hear a yes and quite confident about it, deep down they were a tiny part that prepared for the rejection.
No matter what they wanted, in the end, it wasn't something they could control.
"Let's go." Yoongi spoke and lead the way.
"They are late. Is everything alright? Aren't you guys have a special ending before the concert end?"
Y/n asked the rest of the band.
"We know nothing...really. The staff only told us that those two would like to perform something special for the ending of this tour."
The bass player replied and glanced at other members, having the same expression as Y/n.
They all were confused.
Phew.....Phew....
The string of lights started shooting up into the sky. And the next moment, the firework bloomed, lighting up in the middle of darkness.
"It has been 10 years we were together. Spending year and year after you, in every difficulty we always find hope..."
Jungkook's voice suddenly came through the speakers. The firework still went on, blooming in various patterns.
"As a special day, at the end of this successful tour, we wanted to express our love and gratitude to our first fan..."
Yoongi then continued the script.
"Every practice session, every lyric, every beat, they won't exist if it wasn't you who kept encouraging us...."
"We fought a lot. We cried a lot. We acted like kids around you, yet you were never tired of us two..."
Jungkook chuckled as he ended the sentences.
"Thank you for being here. Thank you for not giving up on us. Thank you. We hope this letter touch your heart. How we wish there is a word that has a greater meaning than the word love to say to you..."
The two of them said in unison.
"Y/n-ah, let's be together always...and for the rest of our lives, shall we?"
One final blow of the firework lit the sky.
'Will you marry us?'
A/n note : That's it. I hope you enjoy the os. Seeing them together on the stage and other performance from Jimin and Namjoon with Yoongi make me want to fastfoward to 2025 so bad.
Well, I chose this pair because of the chemistry when I saw the fancam. I thought it would be nice to put them into frienemy mode with and oc who bond them within the relationship (+ a litle romance)
A/n : Wah...it’s been such a long time since the latest prompt post. This is more like my opinion. If you have something different in mind, be my guest and comment your idea.
This is by far on my top tier. Despite seeing a lot of reccomendation put it in the lower tier, this one held a special place in my heart. As a child, I felt my spirit match Arriety. Brave and adventurous, but stubborn, making us reckless.
ML really reminded me of Namjoon. In the wild, laying upon the green grass with his favourtie book in one hand and the other one petting his dog.
= Namjoon vibe (Namjooning fr)
Another thing that I felt like this story match with Namjoon is the plot. How the two character exchanged their perspective through out the story was how I felt the relationship between Namjoon and Army.
He is always honest no matter what he feels at that moment is negative or positive. On the other hand, as our stories reach him, he gets something new to learn and understand us better.
Why? Because of the cooking scene. Every time I watch just a part of that scene or even a gif, it reminds me of Jin’s cooking.
Ok, apart from that, howl’s confident was kinda similar to Jin. For some, it might look like he’s a bit narcissist. However, underneath the confidence, there were tons of stories, waiting to be told.
As we first knew Jin, he striked us with his visual then vocal. And later on, as we watched their variety shows, their interviews, we learned a lot more about him. He always tries his best to be the big brother. It doesn’t need to be the priority always, yet he still manage to execute it allthese years.
Howl needed a light of confidence to go through hardships so did Seokjin. Making himself confident is a way to boost himself while being the vocal, the visual, sometime mc and the major part, being the hyung.
Yes, cat Yoongi again. cliche. Hear me out on this one, ok?
Yoongi personality during their debut year came off as an unbother king. However, it was just a tiny part of a whole Yoongi. Years pass, we can see that he is actually a caring guy. It just he didn’t state it out. Also, he is wise. Let me remind you, he is the second oldest. What comes out of him might sound harsh, but reality without filter is like that, isn’t it?
From that, he fits the Baron character. Unbother by the human problem, yet somehow tries to find a way to help and look out for the FL. Well, to be honest, when I rewatched this, I thought he fits Muta (the old fluffy cat that looks lazy) more. However, at the end, I couldn’t decide which character suite him best.
One thing for sure, this movie with this plot striked me as Yoongi’s movie.
Again, another cliche choice. However, I can’t help it. This really screamed Hoseok to me.
The playful vibe with advanturous plot was why I choose Hoseok. Also, he can fit both characters, Ponyo and Sosuke. The curious side of hoseok is like Ponyo. While the joyful and positive side is like Sosuke.
The mood and tone of this story was like how hoseok’s impression that left on people. When his presence enters the room, it radiates. We can see from their interviews how he tried to spark delight, how he tried to help namjoon and made things go well, another characteristic that similars to Sosuke. Sosuke expected nothing, but ponyo, his golden fish, to survive and be safe.
The essence of drama in Ponyo made me think of Hoseok’s story in HYYH storyline. That was another reason why I choose this one for Hoseok.
I’ve seen a lot of kiki x taehyung fan arts. Well, I wouldn’t lie that he’s quite fitting kiki. However, for me, Kiki has something match up with Jimin more.
First, I won’t let you forget about the ‘baker boy jimin’ in BTS World. The storyline in the game gave me a hint of Kiki’s story, how both of them tried their best to adjust their unique personalities.
Kiki being a witch found her way to continue being a witch by opening delivery service. On the other hand, Jimin continued his dream and used his dance to promote his baking business. The similarity here made me decide to match Jimin with Kiki.
Baker boy whose dream was to dance will always be on my top tier fav. era of Jimin so does Kiki character.
Out of all stories...why choose the one with a pig as ML?
Ok, first, I kinda like this story because the main character wasn’t human. This was the second one on my list that the ML wasn’t a human. And like the cat returns, Porco character had a cool personality.
Throughout the story, he was such a wild card, doing this and that according to his will. This part of him just gave me Taehyung’s image. As we all know, Taehyung has somewhat unpredictable thoughts. A lot of time, he acts and speaks randomly. However, that’s what unique about him. For me, he possesses the most dynamic chracter out of all members.
Basically, Porco and Taehyung matched mainly because of their uniqueness. They both were the representation of ‘don’t judge the book by its cover’ and somehow also made me think of ‘jack of all trade’ as well. For them, being out of norm is a normal thing.
Of course, I’m going to put this man with his fav. anime. We can’t foget that he once wanted to be a dragon like the ML.
That wasn’t the only reason why I matched him with this one though.
Haku had a reputation of being the best out of all who worked in the alley. However, none of them really remembered that apart from being the best worker in high position and the mighty dragon, Haku was just a boy.
And, that was how Jungkook was. He entered the industry at the age of 15. He threw away his normal teenager life just to achieved his dream. The ‘golden maknae’ wasn’t just a nickname he got randomly from somewhere. He deserved to be called that name because of his dedication toward his dream.
Now, he become someone who has tons of talents as mighty as dragon Haku.
🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?
🐰word count: 3.3k
🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry
As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.
Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.
It’s lonely.
You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay.
That was around two months ago.
“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.
“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.
“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.”
At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)
“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.
After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”
“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”
For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.
But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.
What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?
You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.
It was for the best.
So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)
Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”
He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.
“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.
Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.
You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.
A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.
Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.
You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.
Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in.
Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot.
Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.
Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)
When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.
jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”
Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”
Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”
jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”
jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”
jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”
[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]
[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]
jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”
Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”
jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”
jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”
Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”
You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?
Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.
“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”
“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?
“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.
“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.
You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.
You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.
“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.
“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”
He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.
“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”
Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.
“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”
“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”
You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.
At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”
“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.
“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.
“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”
After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.
“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”
You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.
“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”
“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”
“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”
“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.
“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”
That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.
“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”
“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.
“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.
Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.
You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top.
Your hips start to roll against him.
“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”
You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.
Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.
You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette.
“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.
“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.
“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.
“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”
Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.
“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”
“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”
As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.
The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.
“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”
He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.
He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.
This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.
“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.
“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.
“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”
Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.
He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.
“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.
“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”
“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.
As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.
He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.
This boy is different.
He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.
“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”
He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”
You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”
The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)
“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.
Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.
You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”
Summary : At the top of a quiet alley, somewhere in the town, an ordinary cafe had its legend. Once the clock ticked at midnight, the place took you to another dimension.
Inspo. ambience : it's 12:04am, let's drive around the city with the radio blasting
Inspo. story : Dream on (TinyTan animation mv) | 5th muster magic shop vcr (sorry, I can’t find the official one🥲)
TW : Angst story
Happy 10th anniversary for BTS and Army
Author POV.
“I’m home.”
A whisper left Y/n mouth as they unlocked the front door. The place was quiet as always. Ah well, they lived here alone. What could they expect after finishing all the work at their company? A bright room with someone waiting for them to return?
All they could see was moonlight, a natural light source beaming into their room. The floor reflected some of it, thanked to their effort for waxing it last week. The room was alittle brighter at the edge to the balcony.
23:00
They had overworked themselves again. It was fortunate enough to buy this room before the other client or it would take another 3 hours to arrive their home.
Who the hell build the city plan? They wondered. The city wasn’t that big, yet the road system was poorly manage. Building highways and undergrounds where there weren’t necessary resulted delaying hours of travel.
fff...fff...fff...
In their favourtie slipper, they walked to a fridge, searching for food. There was none in their sight, making them sighed in disappointment.
“Let’s take stroll today.”
tick...tack..puck...
The gentle rain made different ambiences here and there. A higher melody when it hit the metals while a lower one came from their umbrella and cement path.
At this hours, there weren’t many place left open. Y/n could see locked shops mostly along her way. Well, it was their fault to not buy something before heading home. They forgot that here wasn’t a district for a night owl or an all nighter.
Phew...
“Hey.”
A strong breeze blew into Y/n face, stealing the umbrella out of her hand.
“Ahh...I’m broke right now. I don’t want to buy another one.”
Desperately, Y/n chased their umbrella, running up the hill. As if it was teasing them, the wind blew stronger. The umbrella flew higher and higher.
Chasing with the eyes on the umbrella, their feets kept taking them up the hill until they met with tiny neon sign.
‘Special deal before midnight’
“Huh, nevermind. At least, I need something in my stomach.”
Cling.
The bell with a little whale mobile rang, catching everyone attention. 7 pairs of eyes looked at their new comer.
The two of them were wiping table.
The other three worked behind the counter.
And the last two looked down from the second floor.
It was an ordinary cafe.
A brick-wooden wall with the metal bars had some clothes hanging.
The counter had some bakery displayed at the right. Fairy lights decorated the trim.
The menu wrote nicely on all three pages of chalk board. Some photos pins on the cork frames at the bottom.
Lights hanged directly from the cieling, no fancy decoration.
The place looked rustic and antique, yet it gave them a comfort. Y/n found this place cozy and warming.
“Umm..hi.”
Y/n spoke to break the akward atmosphere. Suddenly, two men on the second floor ran down stairs and escorted them.
“Welcome. Sorry for making you wait. We didn’t think we will have any customer coming at this hour.”
The tall man with his hair colored honey yellow, Namjoon, spoke.
“It’s closing?”
“Not at all. We just..didn’t expect anyone, despite opening till midnight everyday.”
“Oh.”
They followed quietly behind the two who lead them to the bar. One of them pool a stool out and gestured Y/n to sit on it.
“Thank you.”
They thanked them softly. Yoongi, the silver hair guy at their left, nodded and handed her a paper. Y/n looked puzzle at the white sheet in front of them.
“It’s our special deal. Write down what you want to eat, what song you want to listen, anything you want to do here...anything.”
Hoseok explained and gave his heart-shape smile.
Y/n cocked her head to the side, still confused. However, daring to ask no question, they wrote down everything orderly. It took some minutes to finish.
Jin, who dressed in his chef uniform, came and took an order himself.
“You have such an easy request. A stire fried black noodle with soju.”
Jin read the list. The others, after hearing the order, dispersed to their position and prepared for the next event.
“Ready guys?”
3...2...1...
Tid..tid...tididid...
00:00
Snap.
Woosh.
Y/n was blind by the bright light for a moment. Opening their eyes again, everything changed.
This place...
A nostalgic feeling hit them hard. A familiar scene that surrounding them right now brought some tears to brim their eyes.
Sitting on the marble bench, they were in the middle of a garden.
The orange-red bricks covered the ground nicely. To Y/n right side was a mini crystal clear stall for plants. There was a foundtain inside too, making the inside moisture and suitable for greenery.
‘My first home...where I born’ Y/n thought to themselves.
“Refreshing. It’s been long.”
A little voice appeared behind Y/n, startled them from their seat. They looked behind and got surprise.
Little fairies were flying. Some of them looked awe with the scenery.
“V, you startle our guest.”
“I did not. Look, Chim, they’re fine...right?”
The little guy approached settled down on the round table and smiled at Y/n. The others soon follow him.
“Sorry for his behavior. He can get too excited sometimes.”
Chim, must be him, spoke and gave a glared at V.
One by one, the little fairies introduced themselves.
Jhope and Koo started levitating again, telling Y/n they wanted to braided their hair. Suga, tired look fairy, borrowed your hand as a pillow and drifted back to sleep.
V and Chim kept you busy by talking to you, trying their best to seek your attention. RM and Jinny, like parents, kept both of them from bickering each other.
Y/n forgot everything inside her head. No questions needed to be ask. Nothing needed to be worry. Right now, all they want was enjoy this fantasy.
“I hope they didn’t bother you that much, especially these two.”
A raven hair guy, Jimin, served Y/n her order before picking up V and Chim from the table.
“Hey...don’t touch me. I’ll tell papa.”
V pouted and tried to wiggle out of Jimin’s finger tips.
“And here is your soju...Awe poor V, Jimin, you don’t need to be harsh with my baby.”
“Appa...Chim bully m-.”
“Did not.” Chim interreupter V before he spoke any further.
“Huh...like father, like son. Taehyungssi, you are interrupting our customer time.”
Koo, who was sitting on their head, flew toward the man.
“Jungkookssi...you’re here.”
Koo landed on his shoulder.
The rest followed behind before all of them stood in horizontal line in front of Y/n. Y/n took a look one by one. They finally noticed the different of their uniform.
Now all of them were dressing in white, like angels.
“Welcome to the memoir.”
“The...memoir?”
Y/n glanced back and forth between their order and the hosts. Jungkook then stepped up and started explaining.
“The memoir is a magical moment that comes every midnight. If the customer enters and orders something around this time before midnight, they will get a grant from the shop.”
“This place grants things accordingly to your deep wish or desire. And it seems like you want to walk through your favourite moment again, starting from here?”
Y/n looked down at the table. They was surprised to meet a hazy reflection of them...as a kid again.
“Ready to find your lost?” Namjoon approached you and offered his hands.
“The time only stops for an hour so we need to be hurry.” Yoongi added.
Without hesitation, they took an offer.
20xx
The first award they got in their life.
A kid who was an outcast found their existent in the competition. Despite with little talents, their deligent brought them ,a courage, a wonder birthday gift for that year.
However, it also brought them into a storm.
Shadow was lurking. The achievement made them being an alien more than what they had been.
Their first identity then shattered.
201x
A new chapter after their storm. Restarting everything, they evolved into a more assertive person who ready to fought for their goals. A group of people soon formed around them and walked side by side.
Music had become a major part of their life. Discover that new world made them become stronger after the past pain.
Yet, another storm crashed everything down.
Their identity was even more shattered.
201x
A new persona emerged after what had happened. Coldblood was what people used to refer to them. Loneliness somehow become their friend, the most loyal friend ever.
A group of people drifted away, leaving them in guilty. However, it was their plan to enter the deepest part of their life and then destroyed them from the inside.
Pain was their familiar, always reminding them how hurt they were and pushing them to the top.
Slowly and slowly, it consumed everything. Their persona finally took over their identity, ruling everyone with fear.
202x
They thought everything was fine now. Everything was working itself out. They finally got what they wanted. A peaceful life was what they always want.
Well, it seemed not what they would get.
When death knocked their door...
“Huh...huh...huh...give me a break. Why do I have to go through this feeling again?”
Their chest tighten at the reel in front of them. Seeing themselves smiled for a moment and then became upset afterward flickered a deep pain inside Y/n.
Y/n looked at them with teary eyes. The anger, sorrow, disappointment, every negative emotion that burried deep down overflow into their system.
“But...it was...” Hoeseok tried to explained.
“I don’t desrve this. Why do I deserve this?” Y/n asked quietly to themselves.
“It must have been hard for you, must it not?”
A familiar voice appeared, instantly took Y/n’s attention. She turned around and met with another surprised.
“You...you come...how?”
“I’m your hyung. Of course, I’m going to know everything about you. Guesing your thoughts wasn’t that hard.”
A man walked toward Y/n and grabbed their hands into his.
“Thank you for bringing them here, I’ll do as I promise.”
The man bowed at the seven men behind his beloved sister. They then left the siblings to have a talk.
“How’s the other side? Is it good?” Y/n asked, trying to sound cheerful.
“I’m not used to it yet, but it was nice. Now I have time to travel everywhere without waiting ships or airplanes.”
Y/n nodded. They were happy that at least their brother was fine.
“Hyung...I’m sorry.”
“I know. I’m sorry that I left you there, but time was up for me. It was not...”
“No, if I knew, if I was there, I would definitely help you. You know I can do it.”
Tears finally left Y/n eyes. The day that their brother died still stuck it Y/n’s mind. It was like yesterday when they recieved a call from his office.
“...He’s gone...by himeself...”
That one sentence crashed their existence entirely.
“But...I can help...why don’t you *hick*...”
Y/n was too overwhelm with sadness that it comeplately sut their sentence. The brother sighed.
And for the first time, he hugged his sister.
“I know as a siblings we both failed to support each other. It wasn’t your fault that they taught you to be my rivals, like they did to me. They forced you to grow when you were just a child. They taught me things in life with violence. It wasn’t our fault, Y/n-ah.”
“But, I still sided with them. I didn’t choose you. In the end, I...”
“Shhh...it’s ok. Like I say, my time was up. We couldn’t change the rule of time no matter how hard we try. You know that well.”
“As a siblings, we only got to knew each other for 7 years. It wasn’ t fair.”
“But, at least, you get to talk with me now. Here I am, fine and safe. Worry nothing and live your life, let the problem dissolve within my body.”
Y/n shook their head. They couldn’t accept the fact that he would soon be gone...for real.
“A bless from me to you, live your life well and keep fighting for your dream. I know you can do it. What you did for me was enough. Living your life as mine won’t make me happy. I want you to live your life as ‘your’ life, understand buddy?”
Y/n nodded, hugging tight onto their brother.
“The time is up. Remember what I say. I’ll be watching you from somewhere always so smile a lot ok?”
His body slowly faded. A smile was the last thing that they saw from him.
His very final moment.
“Did you find it?”
Y/n opened their eyes. They was back at the cafe.
“I don’t know, Seokjinssi.” Y/n answered.
“At least, he gave you a hint. What you lost wasn’t something big. It somehow was small yet precious. Mayber this noodle might answer your confusion.”
Namjoon pushed a bowl closer to Y/n. Taehyung gave you the chopsticks. They then started digging into their meal.
“That’s my milk.”
“Who get it first get it.”
“Urgh...fine.”
“You can’t win me when it comes to the arcade.”
“Try me, bro.”
“How about getting a pasrtner? Oh,,,wait, do I need to act as a protective brother?”
“No need to. You know my vibe wasn’t match most human.”
“Hahahahahahahha....”
What a familiar taste.
All the conversation between them and him flowed into their head. Despite getting to know each other kate, Y/n can only be themselve when they were around him.
The missing piece of their life was in this bowl. Something important, but was belittle by their surrounding.
A tiny core of Y/n, the ‘y/n’ identity.
Y/n opened soju and pour a shot.
‘Till we meet again.’
“Guys, take a seat and drink with me. Drinking alone is no fun, y’know?”
The hosts looked hesitate. However, seeing the first genuine happy expression, they dared not to reject the offer.
“Let me make some more dishes.”
Jin and Yoongi went behind counter.
“Aye, how about we have a battle?” Taehyung proposed the idea.
“Then, I’ll be the judge with Joonie.” Hoseok grabbed Namjoon with him.
“It’s the younger trio vs our 2 big brothers....I’m in.”
Jungkook got Jimin and Taehyung behind another part of kitchen.
An atmosphere was getting warm and cozy. The room filled with laughter and bicker.
A reset moment started here.
In this small cafe,
where Y/n finally found what they lost.
A/n note : Hi. It’s been long since I got my free time. The schedule was so hectic that I had to take a break. I intended to post this last month on the 13th, but my schedule had another plan for me🥲
The idea of this story was from ‘into the magic shop’. Despite having it in us, sometimes we need a guide toward the shop. For me, it was BTS.
This story is a tribute from me to them.
This story was personal. Well, during my haitus, I had many unexpected events. I poured down most of it into this story. Through difficult times, BTS was my guide to reflect on myself, learn about myself again and search for the best of me in myself.
A month passed for the band’s anniversary and a few days for the fandom. All I want to say was thank you, not only to them, but also the fans. In this community and other social medias, I found a lot of inspirations. The amount of support you guys showed toward each other and sent to BTS was incredible. Thank you.
We all have a magic shop in our heart. What you lost can be found there. The best of you is waiting ahead. Don’t give up.
