Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader + others as the story progresses
Warnings: None to note
Word count: 3.4K
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[*Sam*] You on your way? We’ll miss the set menu if you’re not here soon! xx
Shoving your phone into your back pocket with a groan you then hasten to button up your blouse, mentally kicking yourself for waking up so much later than you’d originally intended to.
You’d gotten in touch with Sam again a couple of days ago and had made plans to meet up for a late lunch and coffee – just like old times – but with your nocturnal schedule managing to tear yourself out of bed any earlier than 4pm hasn’t gone quite as well as expected. You are so, so late, and she’s going to kick your ass.
As soon as you’re dressed you scurry over to the bed to say goodbye to the lump within the covers, pulling them back far enough to reveal Jimin’s messy mop of hair and sleeping face. He looks perfectly adorable; his little nose scrunching up and his eyes shutting even tighter at your intrusion.
“Jiminie…” you call softly, smiling as you run your fingers through his fringe to push it back from his forehead. “I’m going to meet Sam now.”
“Hmmm, kay,” he murmurs, taking hold of your wrist and pulling it down to the level of his mouth so he can plant sleepy kisses along it. You lean down to kiss him lovingly, your heart fluttering as you do, and when you pull away Jimin manages to open one eyes to look up at you. “Your collar, kitten.” Your hand automatically reaches up to touch your throat, finding it bare.
“I must’ve forgotten to put it back on…” You glance around the bed but can’t seem to see it anywhere. “Where’d you put it?”
“Try the floor,” Jimin smirks, his eyes now closed again, curling both of his arms around his pillow with a contented sigh and sure enough you find your collar at the end of the bed, lying crumpled where it’d been thrown by Jimin this morning in a fit of passion. You put it on, thankful that he’d noticed its absence; the bite marks on your neck from his last feeding are still too fresh and easily noticed, and trying to explain them to Sam would be an interesting task to say the least.
“See you later,” you whisper, knowing that he’s already fallen back to sleep by the way his every feature has softened and relaxed, his breathing slow and easy. It’s so tempting to crawl back into bed with him, to snuggle up in his arms, but when your phone goes off once again your sense of urgency returns tenfold quickly leaving the bedroom and walking briskly to the entrance hall where your ride should be waiting for you.
They’re not, though, at least so far as you can tell.
You scan the room, huffing impatiently - you definitely will be late now - but when you finally find Yoongi any irritation you might have felt towards him is completely and utterly forgotten. He’s tucked himself away, all curled up at the bottom of the stairs and slumped against the bannister, apparently having fallen asleep as he’d sat waiting for you. You’d never expected him to willingly wake up this early - you know how much Yoongi likes to sleep, after all - but when you’d mentioned needing a ride he’d offered to take you almost eagerly; something that had surprised the others just as much as it had you.
“Yoongi-oppa,” you call in a sing-song voice, squatting in front of him and tilting your head to the side. Even in his sleep Yoongi has a resting bitch face, though it’s not as strong now as when he’s awake, but as far as you’re concerned, he looks nothing but sweet. “Yoongi,” you call again, reaching out and taking one of the hands that’s resting open on his lap, threading your fingers together.
He rouses at your touch, automatically tightening his grip on your hand as he yawns, his eyes opening as he sits up.
“What time is it?” he asks groggily, rubbing his eyes with your conjoined hand as you smile affectionately back at him. “You know what, don’t even tell me.”
“Are you sure you’re ok to drive?” It’s time like these where you could really having learnt to drive yourself before now. You must remind yourself to add it to your to do list - should any of them actually be brave enough to teach you, that is.
“I’ll live.” He stands up with a groan, stretching his arms out and twisting his back but keeping your hand tightly held in his. “C’mon, you’ll be late.”
“You don’t even know what time it is,” you grumble, scowling playfully at his back as you exit the house. It’s a good job you’re running behind, actually; the sun is only just starting to go down. It’s not strong enough to be lethal by any means, but you know it’ll be irritating Yoongi’s skin during the time he’s exposed to it. That’s probably why he’s put on so many layers, wrapped up in a long-sleeve sweater even though it’s still quite mild for an autumn evening.
“No, but I know you’re always late,” he teases, smirking, and when you ‘humpf’ he presses a consoling kiss to your knuckles in way of apology. You reluctantly part with him to climb into the passenger side of the car and send Sam a quick text in reply, letting her know you’re on your way and apologising in advance. You’re not late quite yet, but in five minutes you will be, and the journey itself will take a good fifteen.
By the time you put your phone back in your pocket Yoongi’s out on the open road and driving a lot more conservatively than you would’ve expected of him, his cocoa coloured eyes glancing regularly in the rear-view mirror when they’re not looking at you.
“Looking forward to seeing your friend?” he asks after a moment of comfortable silence.
“Sam? Yeah, definitely,” you nod, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the prospect, “It’s been too long.” He nods, expression thoughtful as he looks straight ahead.
“She sounds nice, from what’ve you’ve said.”
“She is,” you agree, “Though I’m not sure you’d like her.” He quirks an eyebrow questioningly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “She’s kind of… full on.” Yoongi gives a short, quiet laugh, nodding again.
“You’re probably right then.”
“Saying that, you’ve been living with Hobi what, thirty years, and you haven’t killed him yet.” More laughter from the both of you, Yoongi’s gums appearing as he smiles and reaches over to take your hand from your lap, placing it on the gear-stick underneath his own. The gesture warms you right from your head to your toes, the smile on your face sticking as you watch him fondly.
You would’ve never expected Yoongi to be the affectionate type when you met him - not for a single second - but he’s actually starting to rival Jimin when it comes to little loving touches. So much worry had plagued your mind after the night you’d slept together, and it was with total trepidation that you’d shuffled your way into Yoongi’s bedroom later that evening. You’d been sure that the atmosphere would be different between the two of you, but it was almost like nothing had changed. Yes, there was sexual tension, but then there always had been right from the start, hadn’t there?
The only noticeable difference is that Yoongi doesn’t seem so afraid of touching you anymore, and now he’s started it’s like he can’t stop; curling his arm around you as you play piano next to him, pressing kisses to the side of your forehead when you’re deserving of praise. Somehow it never turns into anything sexual - even though it’s clear it’s on both of your minds - and the only reason you can think that it hasn’t is because you’re still kind of unsure as to where the boundaries lie. Yes, you’ve slept together before and yes, Jimin was happy to share then, but that was under his direct supervision.
You haven’t yet clarified whether or not you’re free to indulge in carnal relations with Yoongi as often as you please, and somehow you get the feeling that Jimin might not be so open to the idea of his hyung getting his hands on you without him there. You need to do something again soon though, because just watching the way Yoongi’s fingers are gliding so smoothly over the leather of the steering wheel is starting to turn you on. He squeezes your hand, bringing your attention back to the here and now.
“Think about something else, gongjunim,” he tells you, tonguing the inside of his cheek distractedly, “I want you too, believe me, but if I pull this car over now you won’t just be late - you won’t be going at all.” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look out of the window to try and think about something other than the lusty pitch of Yoongi’s voice. Him saying that didn’t help whatsoever; if anything he’s made it worse. When you cross your legs you can feel the wetness there, and every side road you pass you’re imagining him turning down to park up and have his way with you in the backseat of the car.
“God damn it,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi just squeezes your hand again, your suffering mutual, at least.
A couple of minutes pass before he speaks again, giving you both some time to calm down and drag your thoughts out of the gutter.
“Did you decide if you're going to tell her yet?” He's referring to your indecision as to whether you should confess to Sam that you staying with your aunt is a total lie. You feel like she's going to find out sooner or later - Sam has a way of sniffing out the truth in any situation - but trying to explain why you're living in a house as the only woman amongst seven young men is going to a little bit of a challenge.
“I think I'm going to have to,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “Not the whole truth, obviously, but something like it.”
“Just try not to give her too many details,” he warns mildly, letting go of your hand for a moment to turn a corner.
“I won't. I'd never do anything to put you guys at risk.”
“I know,” Yoongi smiles, glancing over at you, affection is his eyes.
The rest of the journey passes pretty uneventfully. Yoongi turns on the radio and raps along quietly to the various hip-hop tracks that he knows, and you're pleasantly surprised to discover how good he is. He's obviously been blessed musically in more ways than one, and pride swells in your chest as you watch him get lost in the rhythm and rhyme of the words.
“This the place?” he asks as he pulls up outside a little bistro that you and Sam have frequented many a time before. You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt.
“Thanks for the ride,” you say gratefully, pausing as you open the car door to smile back at him. “Hobi said he’d pick me up later.”
“Ok. Have fun.” You've got one foot already on the pavement outside when you hear Yoongi mutter something that sounds like ‘fuck it’ under his breath. It’s uttered right before he grabs onto your upper arm and pulls you back inside the car, straight into his mouth and a frantically delivered kiss. He holds your face in both hands as you sag against him, grabbing onto the front of his sweatshirt as you twist awkwardly in the car’s bucket seats to eagerly kiss him back, and by the time he releases you you're breathless, having to blink a couple of times just to bring yourself back to reality, dumbly staring back at his smiling face.
“Great. Now I'm going to be thinking about that all night,” you groan, sighing as Yoongi's smile gets wider.
“You started it.”
“I started nothing.”
“Please,” he scoffs, turning his face away and running his hands over the steering wheel, flexing his fingers to make his veins pop, knowing what it does to you. God, those hands.
“Ok, leaving now,” you say before you descend into arousal-induced madness entirely, quickly hopping out of the car as he chuckles behind you. “See you later.”
“Later princess.” You shut the car door firmly and then make for the restaurant entrance, knowing instinctively that Yoongi will wait to see you're inside safe before driving away, and it's not until you're stood peering around the restaurant looking for Sam that you notice his big black car finally drive away.
Sam spots you before you spot her, calling your name to get your attention, and when you turn on the spot you see her rising from her seat at a table in the window, waving eagerly in your direction. You wave back, a wide smile breaking out on your face as you swell with happiness on seeing her after what feels like so long.
She pulls you into an embrace the moment she can reach you, squeezing you within an inch of your life.
“Ugh, I've missed you so much!” she crows in your ear, squeezing you again as you rub her back, afraid that she might start blubbering at any moment.
“I've missed you too.” Sam pulls back but holds you at arm’s length, inspecting you as though she's expecting there to be missing limbs or an extra head.
“You look different,” she observes shrewdly, twisting her mouth and frowning slightly as she tries to figure out what it is.
“Honestly? I feel different,” you admit, and you really do. The last time you saw Sam you would’ve felt mortified at her calling attention to the both of you in the middle of her restaurant, squawking and throwing her arms around you the way she did, but now you honestly don't care at all. You're not sure what exactly it is that's changed, but you know Jimin and the others are at the root of it.
“And you've lost weight,” she comments, letting you go so you can sit opposite her at the table. “You're paler too. You are eating properly aren't you?”
“Definitely,” you affirm with a nod, thinking back to the big bowl of beef noodles Jin served up for you last night. “Don't go worrying about me. I'm sure you've got loads of news to catch me up on!”
If there's any sure fire way of distracting Sam it's getting her to talk about herself, and sure enough once she starts she talks almost non-stop all the way through your starter and halfway the main, too. She tells you all the usual stories; the latest office gossip, all about her latest conquests, and then about how her mom and dad are coping with his losing battle with early onset dementia. It’s reassuring that even when your own life has changed so much, Sam remains steady - a much needed constant.
“But what about you? How's it been with your aunt?” She feeds herself another forkful of chicken, finally falling silent, all of her attention fixed on you.
It's now or never, you guess. You're never going to get a better opportunity than this to drop the truth into the conversation, so you may as well take it.
“Actually,” you start slowly, twirling some spaghetti around fork and fixating the task rather than Sam’s eyes, “It isn't her I've been staying with.” You glance up, unsurprised by the confused look that's waiting for you. Taking a deep, bracing breath you continue to explain as your heart races nervously. “Do you remember the guy I met that night at the club?”
“The Asian guy?” Her voice has risen sharply in pitch, her knife and fork abandoned on her plate as she stares at you incredulously. “The guy that attacked you?!” You cringe, knowing that the people at the table next to yours are starting to stare just as hard as Sam is.
“That wasn't him,” you lie, quieting your voice to try and encourage her to do the same.
“You said you couldn't remember who it was.” She sounds sceptical, suspicious, and you can't say you blame her, though you continue to deny it anyway.
“Just trust me on this, ok? Jimin wouldn't hurt me.” At least there's truth in that, at least; you know Jimin would never let you come to any harm now, whether it be from him or anyone else. He's fiercely protective of you, and you've never felt as safe in your whole life as you do when he's holding you in his arms.
Sam sighs heavily, her eyes darting back and forth between your own as she frowns with worry.
“So if you're living with this Jinim person-"
“Jimin.”
“- ok Jimin, Mr super hot club guy, whatever.” You smother a laugh into your soda; you're really going to have to call him that when you get home. “Then who the hell was that guy I just saw you kissing?” Your cheeks flush scarlet red as your mouth pops open, caught completely by surprise.
You'd had no idea she'd seen that, and the Sam you know would usually delight in questioning you relentlessly if she'd have caught even a whiff of your romantic life being in any way alive. She’s obviously been playing her cards close to her chest, waiting to use that little bit of information to her best advantage. Well played Sam.
“He's… that's Yoongi. He lives with Jimin. They all do, the seven of them, they're friends, living together,” you ramble hastily, tripping over your words as you try to explain in any way that might make sense. She narrows her eyes.
“So are you with that Yoongi guy, or the other one?” The question would make you laugh if you weren’t feeling so flustered; even though it’s not intentional Sam’s managed to hit the nail right on the head, and you’re really not sure what the correct answer is.
“We have a… uh… kind of arrangement?” you answer after a moment, still flushed with embarrassment, picking at a slice of garlic bread as a means of distraction.
“With all of them?!” Her pitch just keeps getting higher, eyebrows threatening to disappear above her hairline as she gawks back at you. “What kind of sick operation are they running?!”
“No, no, it's not like that!” This is quickly starting to get out of hand, Sam clearly leaping to all sorts of outlandish presumptions. God, she probably thinks you're in some sort of cult, or that you're being kept prisoner as some sort of unwilling sex slave.
“Do you have, like, Stockholm syndrome or something?!”
“No!” you groan, frustrated by your own inability to explain in any kind of coherent, convincing way. Sam opens her mouth to start talking again but when she sees you press your palms together in a mock prayer, a pleading look on your face, it closes again. “Just listen for a minute, please?”
She smiles, embarrassed, her perfect face turning a slight shade of pink as it always does when you call attention to her permanent case of motor-mouth. When she sits back in her chair and picks up her drink, crossing her legs and lifting an eyebrow as she takes a sip, you know you’ve been given the floor.
“It’s just complicated with the three of us. We're only just starting to figure it out, so even I don't know what to tell you right now.” You give her a reassuring smile, shrugging your shoulders. “But I'm happy. Really happy. Jimin is so loving and intense, and Yoongi is the sweetest, softest…” Trailing off, you notice Sam’s smile starting to grow in response to the love-sick look that must be written all over your face.
“He was pretty cute, to be fair,” she admits.
“Which one?” you giggle as you pick up your fork, feeling reassured that the worst bit seems to be over now that Sam’s initial shock has passed.
“Both.” That sweet smile of hers slowly morphs into a dirty smirk that has you bursting into laughter as she winks salaciously, taking a sip from her glass. “So… how far have you gone with them?” she asks as soon as she's swallowed her mouthful, placing her drink back on the table looking nothing but casual.
You almost choke on your mouthful of spaghetti, a blush forming on your cheeks at the bluntness of her question; you should’ve known Sam wouldn't be shy about asking for all the gory details.
“Far enough,” you answer shyly, grinning down at your plate.
“Hey, woman, none of this coy bullshit,” she scolds, waving her fork at you, “You've been getting all my stories for years, so now you're finally getting some it's time to repay the favour.”
“I never actually asked to hear about them…”
“Doesn't matter,” she dismisses with a shake of her head, “You owe me details, so c’mon, cough up.” You smile, sighing exaggeratedly.
“Ok, what do you want to know?” Sam leans forward and places her elbow on the table, leaning her chin on her head and cocking her head, the look on her face is so sincerely thoughtful you'd think she was about to pose one of life's greatest philosophical questions.
Hi, so I though I would share this with you guys to make your writing more fun.
All this information is based on Vampire: The Masquerade (a role play game). You can always google it if you would like more in depth info or message me and I’ll try to help you out.
There are a lot more clans but there are only seven BTS members. Each clan comes with with abilities and disadvantages to make it more interesting (no god-molding)
This is what happens when I have an idea for a comedy comic strip but can’t draw.
Min Yoongi (Suga) x Y/N
Supernaturl au. Smuttish. Kinda crack(comedy for those who don’t know the term crack)?
1.7k words
A few months ago, you met a guy and it was pretty much lust at first sight. You saw him from across the bar and your heart beat erratically at the sight of this beautiful creature. As if he heard the sudden increase in your heart rate, he looked directly at you and your eyes met. Shivers ran down your spine and excitement pooled in your stomach. His gaze was dark and mysterious with a hint of danger and you had never wanted to be beside someone more in your life. So, you arose from your seat and made your way through the crowd to him but by the time you reached his stool, he was gone.
You returned to the bar almost every day for just over a week in hopes of meeting the handsome stranger again but, he never showed.
It was two weeks after your eyes were first blessed with his visuals that you came across the man again. You were sat up to your desk at the travel agency where you worked when suddenly a figure stood behind you, looming over your frame. Seeing a shadow had taken over the papers you were supposed to be working on, while actually fantasising about the handsome stranger, you turned to find out who was blocking your light to find the man plaguing your every waking moment stood there, leering down at you.
"Oh, hello." You squeaked in surprise, pleasant surprise but you tried to keep your cool facade. A cool facade he easily saw through, how could he not when you were literally shaking with excitement, your heart pumping so hard and fast he could see the blood rushing through a slightly protruding vein in your neck.
"You've been looking for me." It was a statement, spoke in a harsh tone that was meant to scare you off, give you a silent warning but, the deepness of his voice vibrated through your body sending delicious ripples up your thighs.
"Why?"
"I uh-" You swallowed hard and shuffled in your chair, hoping to look more put together when you spoke your next words. "How can I be looking for you when you're the one in my place of business?" You retorted, a slight, teasing smirk lifting one side of your mouth.
He stared for a few seconds in shock at your obvious flirtations before a flash of an amused smile quirked his lips, vanishing so fast you almost doubted your own vision.
"I guess I am." He nodded before pulling over a chair to sit directly opposite you. He leant down onto his spread knees with his elbows and studied you. "What's your name?" You pointed to your name badge and he scoffed, chuckling slightly. "I can read, I want to hear you say it."
"Why?"
"To make up for not asking you two weeks ago."
"Y/N, my name is Y/N."
"Y/N." He hummed moving to sit back but he didn't close his legs and it made you want to get on your knees between his spread thighs. "Pleasure to meet you Y/N, my name is Yoongi."
And that was how it started, your casual relationship. It wasn't casual in the sense that you both saw other people because neither of you did, you were only interested in one another. It was casual in the sense that nothing had been agreed upon, at least not officially. At least once a week, Yoongi would take you out for the evening and spoil you, treat you like a queen before dropping you at your house with a simple kiss. Of course you spoke between dates, via phone call and text but you only saw one another on the evenings he took you out. That meant you didn't have much time together, alone. You were always in public places enjoying just being in one another's company but you yearned for more.
Yoongi was an incredibly attractive guy with perfect, pale skin that made you envy him, soft black hair that you longed to run your fingers through and tug in hopes of earning a moan and deep, beautiful brown eyes that looked at you so intensely, like you were his next meal.
You wanted Yoongi and you wanted him bad.
It was three months exactly after your first date that Yoongi finally took you to his home. It was a lavish, spacious apartment with a beautiful view of the city. His choice of decor was simple and practical, everything had its use or purpose, even the decorative pieces had multiple uses. He used a specific colour scheme; black, white and grey with splashes of red here and there.
The living area was open plan and started as soon as you entered the home. But that didn't interest you. You wanted to know about his bedroom.
On the other side of the living room, in the centre of the back wall stood a lone, black door.
"Is that your bedroom?" You asked slyly.
"Would you like to see?" You nodded and Yoongi smirked before leading you over. He opened the door and motioned inside.
That's how you wound up naked on his bed with his head between your thighs.
"Fuck, I want to bite you so much." He growled, running his nose along your inner thigh as he took a break from eating you out with such enthusiam it was as if you were his last meal. "You taste so fucking good, Y/N." He nuzzled his face into your thigh, spreading wetness onto your flesh before turning his attention back to where you really wanted him. You moaned instantly and arched your back off of the matress.
Usually, you didn't like to watch when a guy went down on you but it was Yoongi and you wanted to know how he looked with his dark eyes peering up at you.
So, you opened your eyes and lifted your head to look down. The moment you saw his face you froze and your eyes widened.
"Ohmygod!" You shrieked, shimmying up with bed quickly with your hands over your mouth in shock. "I am so fucking sorry, I didn't know."
Yoongi looked up at you, his dark hair a mess and falling into his eyes and that was pretty fucking hot but as soon as you got to his nose, you freaked out. His lower face was covered in blood.
"I thought I had another week left!" You explained.
"What?" He mumbled. "Come back here." He tugged on your ankle but you quickly pulled it out of his grasp making him sigh in annoyance. "What is wrong with you?"
"Are you not aware what is going on with my vagina right now?!"
"I was enjoying myself eating it." He pointed out, looking nothing short of frustrated at the disruption.
"My fucking period started and you just carried on?!"
"Well, yeah." Yoongi looked at you as if it was obvious he would, as if it was stupid to suggest he do anything else. "What else do you expect from a vampire?"
"A what?!" You yelled.
You of course knew vampires existed, you knew they walked and lived amongst humans and had for decades. Honestly, you had no problem with them, most of them just tried to live like everyone else, like humans, and fed off animals or blood substitues. Some of your friends and coworkers were vampires, your brother even married one last year.
But, you had never realised Yoongi was one.
"You're a vampire?"
"You...you didn't know?" He moved to kneel up then, showing you his bare torso and erection that was trying to break free from the constraints of his dark grey boxers. "How could you not know?"
"You never told me!"
"I thought it was obvious, most people know as soon as they meet me." You just continued to stare in shock. "For a start, my skin, it's pale, I clearly don't get much sunlight."
"Not all vampires are pale, my sister in law goes to a tanning salon."
"I have fangs."
"They're not obvious, I've never seen you hungry so I didn't know you have them. I thought they're just slightly pointed canines, mine were like that when I was little."
"You never wondered why we only meet after sun set, or on cloudy days?"
"I assumed you can only spare time in the nights and I never realised we only meet on cloudy days."
Yoongi moved to sit down on the edge of his bed with his back to you while he took in the fact you were incredibly clueless.
"So all this time, you never realised I'm a vampire?"
"No."
"And...do you have a problem with it?"
"No."
"Then lay back down so I can finish eating you out." He demanded impatiently, getting up and turning to face you. You looked at him with an incredulous look.
"What?"
"I just, you really want to do that?" He nodded firmly and you bit your lip nervously. "I've never had a guy go down on me while I'm on my period, it seems kind of...weird."
"You've only been with humans?" You nodded. "Well there you have it. Tasting your blood is a turn on, Y/N." Yoongi informed as he crawled back onto the bed. "And I love making girls cum with my mouth so getting both is making me so fucking hard."
"But, doesn't it taste horrible? Because it's period blood?"
"No, it's got a fuller flavour, it's thicker, I can't explain it really. It's like, living on vegetables despite being a meat eater and then finally getting a nice thick steak."
"Oh." You nodded in understanding.
"So now you know, you gonna let me carry on?" You nodded shyly and returned to your previous position on the bed.
"Can't beleive you didn't know I'm a fucking vampire." He chuckled as he settled back between your legs.
"Shut up."
"I literally said I wanted to bite you like five times in the past half an hour."
"Why don't you use that pretty little tongue of yours for something better than talking, huh?" You suggested, a sharp almost demanding tone to your voice. Yoongi licked his lips before growling and diving back in.
The fact that Yoongi was a vampire didn't bother you and surprisingly, the fact he was eating you out while you were on your period suddenly didn't bother you either.
You finally got the man you had been lusting after and you were going to enjoy every fucking second of it.
iI know I’m supposed to be writing other stuff but this idea just came tome and I had to write it
I’ll now get back to watching Dirk Gently’s Holistic detective agency and pretending I’m going to do some work lol
▽ Summary: The very depiction of love, a kiss, can be given in a rush before leaving the house or with indubitably different intentions in the corner of a crowded room but it is always a silent secret held between the lips of the receivers, the lovers, the couple. It is always different, as different as the feelings buoying around it are for, its peculiarity, is the lack of voidness.
▽ Prompt: "We can never be together” kiss.
▽ Word Count: 1.627 words
▽ AN: basically I just fell in love with a drabble game about kisses (here) and I just couldn’t resist making a series out of it. To be honest I’m not sure if I’m going to do all the kisses but I have an idea for at least half of the list. This was started on a mere impulse so I’m not sure myself how the updates are going to go since I’m currently working on other (many) projects.
The first scent he detects is the one of Douglas fir – the ginger wood of which her house is made of and that smells so much like home to him, now – and he automatically speeds up, his whole being pushing him beyond his limits so he can hold her in his arms and chase all his demons away.
It’s their last night together, he knows that and he really shouldn’t be this eager to see her but, the only thought of touching her, even one last time, is enough to make his feet hit the concrete floor at a speed not deemed possible for any human being.
He inhales deeply, his whole body stirring when he catches the whiff of cinnamon tea, a scent that seems to embed into her so much so he can always taste it in her mouth.
He stops altogether because there she is, in all her mundane beauty: her long hair is tucked safely behind her ear, her eyes are focused on the book in her hands and her bottom lip is trapped under her teeth into an almost painful vise. She is, by far, the utmost beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on and, undoubtedly, the only one that was capable of conquering his non-beating heart.
His steps are soundless as he approaches her, a small smile tugging on his lips as he curtails their distance, trying to imprint every detail of her face in his memory so he can remember her forever just the way she is now: healthy, beautiful, alive.
“You look lovely tonight”, his voice is soft as he says so, careful not to scare her and make her heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s would, but that chariness is not enough because she jumps in her seat nonetheless, the little screech that escapes her mouth eliciting a grin to appear on his features.
“You scared the living shit out of me!”, she hoots in utter outrage, her small hand clasping her heart into a melodramatic gesture.
“I missed you”, he purposely ignores her words and lifts her from the chair ― her weight close to one of a feather in his supernatural hands ― just so he can wrap his arms around her and keep her so close to his own body until he can’t discern their boundaries anymore and he is free to breathe in the perfume lodged in the curve of her neck and between her hair.
A satisfied sigh escapes his lips once the scent of her surrounds him completely, numbing anything else around them and finally putting to a rest is overworked mind and overstimulated senses.
“I missed you too, Yoongi”, her voice is soft, almost like butter, and it’s so mild he can almost feel his skin warming up like it used to when he was still a living creature.
He doesn’t know for how long he holds her like this, time only an ephemeral constant for him since he holds the whole eternity in his hands, and it is only when he’s fully content that he lets go of her, his insides twitching as he does so because he has to say those dreaded words he avoided for far too long.
“We have to talk”, if they would have been even one foot further away she wouldn’t have been able to hear him but, unfortunately, she does.
“About?”, her voice is strangled, her body already shaking like a leaf in the winter wind, and he can’t stop himself from cupping her face, bringing back some comfort when she’s so obviously afraid of what he’s about to say.
“We have to end this”, the pain he feels spreads like poison from the center of his chest to the rest of his entire body numbing his limbs, constricting his throat, almost making him gag on the foul taste in his mouth.
The tears are quick to trace her features, the warmness of her pain getting caught between his fingers.
He wants more than anything in the world to erase that pain, to take it all away, all to himself, and leave her with nothing but happiness and content but, sadly, he cannot because he is the main reason behind all of it and he couldn’t hate himself more than he does in this very moment.
“No”, her voice trembles as a sob menaces to choke her, her hands gripping his shirt so tight her knuckles turn white.
“We can’t be together”, he chokes on his words, the pain burning him to his very core, “You know we can’t.”
They talked about this before and yet she always managed to persuade him into ignoring the unwritten laws of his own kind but he can’t do that any longer, he just can’t turn his head the other way around anymore.
Her bottom lip quivers, the pain twisting her features turning her into a portrayal of pure grief.
He keeps caressing her face in a vain attempt to soothe her because the sight of all the ache he is causing is pure torture and, even though he knows he deserves it, all he can do is close his eyes and try to erase the image of her in this moment: shattered, with tears on her cheeks and wrenching pain in her heart all because of him.
Her lips suddenly touch his own and against his better judgment he opens his mouth for her, allowing her tongue to slip in, his heighten senses immediately catching up on that cinnamon flavor she seems to be embodied with.
When they kiss, it feels like pure electricity running in his veins, filling up his entire being with sparks and fluttering butterflies. His skin gets covered in goosebumps as she desperately kisses him with all the love she’s capable of and it almost brings Yoongi to his knees because how is he supposed to turn his back on this? How is he supposed to believe that a love like this is not supposed to be possible, conceivable?
“Turn me”, she whispers against his swollen lips, her voice firm as she asks for the hundredth time what she has been denied for so long.
“No,” his answer is always the same and she will never understand why he’s not willing to make her into a monster. Because that’s what he is: a soulless monster that feeds on other people lives. A parasite. And she’s just too good and too pure to be turned into something so evil and cursed. He doesn’t want to tarnish her soul and make her rot for the whole eternity. He loves her too much to trap her into an everlasting inferno.
“Why not?!” She screams now, pushes him, punches him right in the chest and even if it hurts, there’s a part of him that rejoices in the fact that she may be able to hate him soon, after all, and leave the memory of him behind her for good.
“Don’t you love me?”, she cries and yells and begs until she has not an ounce of strength left in her body to keep fighting.
“I love you more than it should be possible”, he whispers, catching her before she falls to the hard ground, “Especially for a monster like me”.
Isn’t it a paradox for an evil creature to be able to love and care for someone? Shouldn’t he be excluded from all feelings mundane?
“Then why?” Her broken whisper makes his insides twitch painfully, the sound of her frantic heartbeat reaching his enhanced hearing.
“You deserve better than an eternity tinted with blood.”
If only the rules were different, if only they could be together just like this, for as long as her life would allow them to be, he would stay, oh, if he would.
But they are doomed to be just like the moon and the sun: he’s stuck in the realm of the night while she lives and strives under the sun; their interactions brief because mother nature doesn’t allow otherwise.
“Be happy, ____.” his lips touch her forehead one last time before he runs away, like the coward he is, not allowing her to even say her goodbye because he knows, if he stays a bit longer he may actually cave in and indulge in the hope of being able to be together with her a bit longer.
He hides in the darkness of the forest and watches her crumble before his eyes, the tears flooding from her beautiful eyes now that there is nothing to stop them, her sobs so wrenching they push him on the verge of running to her multiple times.
He doesn’t know for how long she cries, whispering his name, clutching her heart in pure pain, but he’s forced to leave when the first rays of sunshine start to hit the ground.
It’s not an easy task to get away from her, to finalize his decision, but he does it because, for once, he’s not being selfish. Yes, he did the right thing. For her. He did the right thing.
Jimin shrugs out of his jacket as soon as you both get back to the room, throwing it carelessly into his hamper.
“I’m gonna go take a quick shower.” Without any hint of hesitation Jimin swiftly grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it off, adding it to the laundry pile, and suddenly your heart rate seems to have rocketed through the ceiling. You don’t know where to look, attempting to avert your eyes as you blush scarlett but failing miserably, unable to keep yourself from staring at the newly exposed expanse of creamy white skin.
You’re now more convinced than ever that Jimin is, in fact, a specimen of absolute physical perfection. His arms are strong and well defined - all long, sinewy muscle bulging under his skin - and his stomach… well, you didn’t think real people ever actually had abs like these, but apparently you were wrong.
“Admiring the view?” Jimin asks playfully, distracting you enough that you’re finally able to drag your eyes away from his washboard stomach up to his face, swooning when you see him smiling cheekily back at you. It’s been a little while since Jimin left you speechless, but here you are again; a molten mess, completely unable to string two words together no matter how you try. Jimin just grins all the more as you flounder, flashing you a wink before exiting for the bathroom without another word.
You’re left so flustered that once he’s gone you have to sit down on the end of the bed to try and collect your thoughts, forcing yourself to take some steady breaths. This has to get easier, right? You can’t carry on being this naïve - this coy - you’re not a child, after all. You’re want to inflict the same kind of breathlessness upon Jimin as he does to you, longing to see the flames of desire in his eyes once again, but you wouldn’t even know where to start.
Maybe there’s something he might like to see you wear? One of the more risqué sets of underwear he bought? You figure it must be worth a try.
You head over to the drawers that Jimin had assigned to you, opening up the third one down in which you’d neatly stored the few pieces of nightwear that Jimin had bought. Of course, they’re nothing like what you’d ever usually wear at home, and you’re nervously biting your lip as you search through and to find the sexiest thing you can, eventually settling with a white silk nightie that skirts the tops of your thighs. It really doesn’t leave much to the imagination - cut low and lace panelled at the front - and the longer you stand in front of the mirror looking at yourself in the mirror, nervously running your hands across your stomach, the more you start to reconsider your choice. Is it too much? Are you being too presumptuous?
You’re about to chicken out and take it off to swap it for a cute little pyjama set when Jimin re-enters the room and takes the choice away from you. If you’d thought Jimin looked good before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now; hair wet, strands of his fringe flopping down to his eyes, his chest covered in fine sheen of water droplets that cling to it. He’s changed into grey sweatpants that hang extra low, inevitably drawing your eyes to the delicious ‘v’ of his hip bones and the very slight trail of hair on his stomach that disappears all the way down...
It takes you a second to realise that you’re biting on your lip, staring shamelessly once again.
Thankfully, Jimin seems to be having just as much trouble as you are - for once. He’s come to an absolute standstill as he looks you up and down through narrowed eyes, and as he licks and then bites his bottom lip you feel all the muscles of your core clench with excitement.
“Admiring the view?” you ask, mimicking his earlier words and trying not to let your voice waver with the nerves that are so intense they threaten to choke you.
“Very, very much,” Jimin replies, his voice pitched so low that it’s practically a growl. He stalks toward you slowly and your heart races in your chest, coming to stand just short of touching you, just a foot or two away. You swallow hard, looking down at the floor. It’s easier that way, easier than than looking up into Jimin’s eyes, which are regarding you with such intensity that they leave you feeling as though you’re already naked.
“You know… I can hear your heart beating,” he tells you, reaching out and running his fingertip over the skin that sits above your heart, then downward to skim along your nightdress, across your breasts and the space in between, “I can hear when you’re afraid - when you’re excited.” Jimin leans in so close that his mouth rests next to your ear, breath tickling as he speaks again. “You’re excited now, aren’t you, kitten?”
God, you are, so much so that you’re struggling not to pant, biting your lip in an effort not to, painfully aware of the fact that you’re already wet between your legs without Jimin even having touched you yet.
“Yes,” you answer breathily, closing your eyes and willing your body to cease throbbing all over.
Jimin leans back with a smirk on his face and then walks away to sit on the edge of his bed, beckoning you with a curl of his finger.
“Come here.” You walk over, feeling as though your knees are knocking like a newborn deer, and as soon as you’re within reach Jimin places his hands on your hips to pull you down to sit astride his right thigh, legs resting on either side of his. The gasp that you would’ve made at the feel of his leg connecting with your sensitive core is swallowed by Jimin’s mouth laying claim to yours with a hungry kiss, one firm hand on your hip to keep you steady whilst the other finds its way into your hair.
Jimin’s kiss is just as enthralling as you remember it to be, his eager tongue slipping into your mouth the moment you willingly part your lips for him, slipping your arms around his neck, happy to let him use the leverage he has on your hair to keep your mouth pressed insistently against his. You feel Jimin’s fingers tighten their grip on your hip, coaxing you to move, to rock yourself back and forth under his guidance and grind against his muscular thigh. The friction feels so good that you immediately groan into Jimin’s kiss, rolling your hips enthusiastically as you clutch onto his shoulders, material of your underwear rubbing at the sensitive bud of your clitoris.
“You like that, huh?” Jimin asks huskily, and you can feel him smiling against your mouth between kisses, pleased by your reaction.
“Yes,” you answer again, monosyllabic, moaning as Jimin pulls you down onto his lap even harder, flexing his thigh as you move. He pulls back on your hair, tilting your head back so that he can access your throat, kissing every inch of skin there.
“Do you have any idea how badly I want to sink my teeth into you?” he groans, voice muffled against the skin of your throat. Somehow the idea of it doesn’t frighten you at all - it only makes you hotter - and you thread your fingers into his hair as you rock your hips, gasping with each and every jolt of pleasure that travels the length of your spine. Jimin grazes your with his teeth, his fangs dimpling into your skin just enough to make you shudder in his arms, and your whole body feels as though it’s catching on fire, skin prickling, pelvis throbbing with desire.
Jimin takes hold of your leg and hooks it over his other thigh to spread both of your thighs wide apart. You can no longer grind against him now, sat helplessly astride his lap with your panties in full view, soaking wet with your arousal, nightdress hooked up around your hips, straps hanging off of your shoulders. You must look a mess, flushed in the face, hair in disarray, yet somehow you can’t find the will to care - not when he’s slipping your nightdress down and exposing your breasts to his lust-darkened eyes.
“J-jimin!” you whine as he squeezes one mound of flesh in his palm, returning to your mouth to kiss you again even more fervently than before. You run your tongue over the split in his bottom lip, adoring the way it makes Jimin groan back at you. A hand begins to cup your buttock, groping you through your panties, and your hips start to rock in mid-air again as your need continues to grow, a whimper escaping you when it brings no relief.
“What do you want, kitten?” Jimin asks lowly, dragging his thumb across your nipple as he pulls back just enough to look at you past his pretty dark eyelashes. It hardens quickly under his touch, becoming more and more sensitive each time the rough pad of his thumb passes over it. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”
“T-Touch me... please, Jimin, please… touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you cling onto his back, still rocking in his lap, desperately seeking that friction once more. A smirk forms on Jimin’s face - clearly pleased by the neediness of your cries - and he reaches down between your legs as he promised he would, fingertips passing over the crotch of your panties.
“God, you’re soaking.” He kisses you again, roughly, touching you through a layer of silk. He finds your clit and begins to rub at it, fingertips circling the tight nub as your hips simultaneously circle back against him. It feels so good to be touched, but it’s still not enough. You’re aching so badly, desperate to be filled, walls clenching around nothing as pleasure rolls through you, and you can tell Jimin is just as aroused as you are. One glance downward is all it takes to show you the very obvious outline of his hardened cock inside his sweatpants.
Jimin’s fingers slip inside your underwear and start to slide between your wet folds, the tips almost dipping inside your entrance, slowly circling around it and then returning to your clit, back and forth, over and over again. It’s maddening, a sweet torture that has you mewling against him, pressing your face against his bare shoulder and biting down on your lip. Just when you think you can’t take anymore Jimin finally he pushes a finger inside, groaning aloud as he feels your walls constrict around the unfamiliar intrusion. He slowly works you open until he can slide a second finger in too, and the sound of it is obscene, the room full of the sound of your moans and the slick slide of Jimin’s fingers.
You feel Jimin shift underneath you, and when you open your eyes you see that he’s managed to yank down his sweats just low enough to release his cock to stand fat against his stomach, leaking pre-cum from the tip. He takes a hold of one of your hands, removing it from around his neck to guide it downward and wrap it around his length, working it up and down as he works your pussy too. He groans lustily, hips flexing upward into your grip as he releases your hand to let you take over, and god, you hope your inexperience doesn’t show. You can barely concentrate past Jimin the internal ‘come hither’ movements his fingers are making against your g-spot, but you do the best you can, repeating the motions that seem to make him grunt and moan.
“Harder, go faster,” Jimin instructs with a growl, mouth pressed in amongst your hair, his free arm now wrapped tightly around your waist. “Like I’m fucking this tight little pussy.” Jimin’s dirty talk is driving you wild, edging you closer to the orgasm that you can feel building in your stomach, the heat lingering there growing more and more intense as you ride on his fingers. You do as he asks, squeezing the head of his cock on each upstroke of your hand, pre-cum smearing on your fingers and along his shaft to lubricate each motion. He presses his thumb to your clit as he fucks you with his fingers and you’re getting close, so close, your legs shaking on either side of his.
“Ah! J-Jimin-“ you gasp, your hips losing rhythm as you desperately chase your high.
“You’re beautiful like this, kitten.” Jimin starts going even faster, attacking your g-spot relentlessly. “I bet you’re even more beautiful when you cum. Show me, kitten, cum for me.”
The fire that was growing in your belly ignites at his gentle encouragement, your orgasm flooding through you and making your body spasm against Jimin’s, walls clenching around his fingers as you cry out for him, and a split second later you feel Jimin cum with you, moaning throatily, his cock pulsing out cum into your hand and onto his stomach, pushed over the edge by the sight and sound of you in the throes of ecstasy.
You expect it to be over, then, for Jimin to withdraw his fingers or at the very least slow down, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jimin lifts your face from his shoulder and watches with hooded eyes as you bite your lip to keep from crying out, the pleasure almost verging on painful as he continues to rub at your clit, pushing you towards the edge once more.
“Again,” he commands sternly, a new and dangerous glint to his eyes, and you feel as though you might start sobbing if he makes you cum again. Surely you’ll break in two if he carries on this way; shatter into a thousand pieces? Your body can’t help but respond, though, unwilling or not, the pleasure building and building until you’re once again dragged under by the wave of an orgasm that’s even stronger than the last. Your back bows in his arms, fingernails digging into his back as your juices squirt from you, all over Jimin's fingers and onto his lap, and you’re left whimpering in the aftermath, clinging onto him as your body shakes. You’ve never felt anything like that before, had never thought it could be anywhere near so intense...
“You did well,” Jimin coos to you whilst you come down, ragged breathing starting to settle, pressing little kisses to your cheeks as he puts your panties and shoulder straps back in place. It takes a lot of effort for you to even sit up, to look back at Jimin with a shy smile which he returns. You’re initially confused when he lifts his fingers to your lips, only understanding once he instructs them to open. You part your lips, letting him slide his fingers inside for you to lick and suck clean, blushing at the taste of yourself, and blushing even harder when Jimin then feeds you the pearls of his cum off of his stomach too. It’s more than worth any embarrassment you might feel, though, for the satisfied look on Jimin’s face when you do - the scorching hot look in his eyes. “Good girl.”
Now that it’s over, the high of your orgasms well and truly passed, you feel exhausted. You could happily fall asleep here in Jimin’s lap, safe and content, but when you lean your head on his shoulder with a yawn you hear him softly chuckle, tutting his tongue behind his teeth. He effortlessly picks you up with one arm to carry you over to the chaise longue, gently laying you down and covering you with his quilt when you get there. You half-heartedly wonder why he’s brought you over here - why you don’t get to stay tucked up in bed with him as you'd like to do - but you’re too well fucked to truly care.
“Jimin,” you murmur, eyes fighting to stay open, “That was so-“
“I know,” he replies softly, as if he already knows exactly what you’re trying to say, “I enjoyed it too.” You smile contentedly and Jimin presses a kiss to your forehead as your eyes close to the image of his face. “Sleep well, kitten.”
“Lasombra: Darkly aristocratic vampires who see power over others and self-mastery as their noblesse oblige. As one of the two founding clans of the Sabbat they gained notoriety for allegedly destroying their Antediluvian founder. The Lasombra practice a Discipline known as Obtenebration that allows them to manipulate shadows and darkness. Perhaps as a result of their signature Discipline they do not appear in mirrors or on film that uses mirrors in its development.”
“I feel bad for you humans. You can’t communicate with your prey as you hunt. Not in the way you and I are, right now.”
Ah, the elusive Agust D. There are whispers that the traitorous rat is hiding in Seoul of all places. As he should! After he disobeyed a direct order from his Cardinal he would be better off dead. The Sabbat will suffer no traitors and the Camarilla would never trust a Lasombra. It’s only a matter of time before the world is free of his stench.
Some believe that Agust is lying in wait for the opportunity to kill Seoul’s prince, to avenge his fallen packmates. But with the passing of time fewer and fewer dare to defend the missing vampire or believe him to be alive.
The once promising vampire had been much feared and revered, said to be a skilled as the Black Hand itself (not to their face of course, unless you want a slow and painful death). His name was enough to keep even the unruliest in line. How the mighty have fallen…
No, really, how did he become the most hated vampire in the whole country?
Simple, he saved Kim Namjoon’s life. The assassination had been planned meticulously by Agust himself. The Camarilla Prince along with his adviser Kim Taehyung were surrounded by Agust’s pack, they were outnumbered six to one.
“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black.”
He had turned on his pack despite the customary blood sharing blood rituals the Sabbat had always been so fond of. Tore them limb from limb with his control of the shadows until there was nothing but dust, a smiling Malkavian and an astounded Prince.
The rumors of an attack on Namjoon spread like wild fire. About how the two vampires had defeated the infamous Agust D and his pack with the help of an old friend.
The court was curious to meet this new vampire, but the Vampire had no interest in their gossiping and backstabbing ways. He left the meeting shortly after introducing himself as Min Yoongi.
He can usually be found in the music room of Namjoon’s mansion, often accompanied by the Malkavian Taehyung or the Toreador Seokjin much to the Lasombra’s frustration.
The Toreador had taken upon himself to find out everything there is to know about the newcomer. Yoongi rarely leaves the mansion with the exception of food runs or Taehyung’s crazy excursions. He is relatively unbothered about Park Jimin’s occasional presence or anyone else’s for a fact.
The Lasombra clan has fallen from grace - and its members enjoy it. Simultaneously graceful and predatory, the Lasombra guide - and, when necessary, whip - the Sabbat into an implacable force. Turning their backs upon the humans they once were, Lasombra give themselves wholly over to the dark majesty of the Embrace. Murder, frenzy, predation: Why fear these things, many Lasombra ask, if one is meant to be a vampire? In contrast to the Tzimisce, though, Lasombra generally seek not to reject all things mortal, but to shape, them for their own pleasure.
The typical Lasombra possesses a gift for manipulation, as well as keen leadership skills. Lasombra are the most common leaders of Sabbat packs, as their motivational and Machiavellian natures make them ideal for orchestrating the movements of the sect. Unfortunately, pride goes hand in hand with this dark nobility, and very few Lasombra acknowledge other vampires as equal, let alone superior. The clan has little interest in weaklings and: does not, hesitate to cull unworthy vampires from its ranks. Lasombra are universally skilled at social discourse and pulling the strings of others - coarse manners are viewed poorly, for the Lasombra are refined monsters.
Lasombra are best known for their Discipline of Obtenebration, a means by which they call forth a tangible "living" darkness, manipulating it at their whim. Clan doctrine holds that this "darkness" is in fact the stuff of the vampiric soul, which has been simultaneously strengthened and corrupted by the Embrace.
Weaknesses: Lasombra vampires cast no reflections. They cannot be seen in mirrors, bodies of water, reflective windows, polished metals, photographs and security cameras, etc. This curious anomaly even extends to the clothes they wear and objects they carry. Many Kindred believe that the Lasombra have been cursed in this manner for their vanity. Additionally, due to their penchant for darkness, Lasombra take an extra level of damage from sunlight.
Organization: Clan Lasombra's structure is simultaneously formal and open. Respect and homage are afforded to the elder warriors who helped found the Sabbat, but younger members operate with almost no guidance from the clan as an entity. Quarterly meetings, known as conventicles, serve to keep the Lasombra informed as to each other's status, and blood-drinking rituals are performed at these meetings. While no Lasombra is ever told "You may not do that" (at least not publicly), almost all Keepers have a profound respect for tradition. A secret Lasombra coterie known as Les Amies Noir is rumored to hand down "death sentences" on those Keepers who bring undue shame, attention or ignominy to the clan or its members.
