😆 @mortallydeepestobservation

Desecrate

A fall from grace causes you to stumble into the hands of a demon prince. Inspired by Lilith.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, mention of murder, non-explicit attempted assault, angels and demons

Min Yoongi is older than most creatures to walk this Earth, this much he knows. It’s been years since he last felt that any of the petty skirmishes mortals involve themselves in was worth any of his interest or his time. 

Even though time, for him, stretches out, almost infinitely. 

He doesn’t know your face at all, but you catch his attention, and hold it. He can sense your mortality slipping through your fragile grasp as you grapple with the men holding you down. 

You’re not going to win, though he admires your grit. 

Yoongi’s no stranger to blood but he has no desire to watch you get used and torn to shreds. He’s moving on when your eyes meet his. 

You plead with him wordlessly, desperately, as the light dims in your eyes. 

Yoongi knows that this is a dangerous time, the twilight between living and dying. You’re straddling both worlds, dying even as you push uselessly at the hands around your neck. 

It would be facetious to say that Yoongi kills without a shred of remorse. It’s more truthful to say that he kills without a thought. 

He’s standing amidst the mess he made, you at his feet, your face pressed to the ground. 

You’re unconscious, but you’ll live, unlike the men Yoongi dispatched on your behalf. 

There’s something unbearable to him about the way the lovely line of your cheek is touching the dirt of this human dumping ground. 

Yoongi doesn’t know what possesses him, but he takes you with him as he leaves. 

***

You wake in stages, in a very human way. 

Your eyes flicker open, shut. Yoongi can hear your heart accelerate, your breathing quicken, he can see your muscles tense. 

Your mouth opens on an inhale, and your eyes flicker open again. 

‘Where am I?’ you rasp. 

Your voice is soft, plaintive, your vocal cords swollen from your assault. 

‘You’re in my home,’ Yoongi replies. 

When you turn your head to look at him, your eyes are more focused. 

‘And who are you?’ 

‘I saved your life,’ Yoongi tells you. 

He watches as your eyes scan the domed ceiling, the painted frescoes, the stained glass. Your gaze stops at a scene of the Madonna. 

Yoongi studies your profile, the dirt smudged on your cheekbone he’d not bothered to wipe off.

Your gaze returns to him.

‘You’re Min Yoongi.’

It’s not a question, but Yoongi’s compelled to answer anyway, because the fact that you’ve guessed his identity means there’s more to you than he first thought.

You sit up, and Yoongi wonders how he managed to miss the celestial aura emanating from you. 

Lords and beings.

You’re an angel.

Seokjin is never going to let him live this down.

Min Yoongi, ancient slayer of humans, demonic legend from the mediaeval history of man, saved an angel.

Yoongi gets up, lets a tiny fraction of his darkness show. His voice deepens, resonating through the chapel.

‘Leave.’

You’re frightened, he can see it in the way you’re tensed, body held taut like a bow.

‘I can’t. It’s the night of Pandemonium.’

Pandemonium marks the beginning of when the Gates of Hell open each year. From your reaction, Yoongi guesses you’re a young angel, limited in power, incapable of cloaking or protecting yourself.

He laughs sardonically. ‘I don’t think the home of the bulgasari Prince is the right place for an angel on the night of Pandemonium, do you?’

You clasp your hands.

‘I’m not an angel.’

Yoongi stares at you.

‘Not anymore. I was cast out.’

For the first time, Yoongi feels a flicker of interest.

He can feel the scales in his mind threaten to tip by the tiniest of margins. 

For the first time, he thinks he might not kill you.

Seemingly unaware of his internal debate, you take a step closer to him.

Towards the most dangerous being in the room.

Yoongi flicks his tongue over his lower lip, steps forward so you can see him in the red glow.

His human form is beautiful, drawing others in. Leading them to their own destruction.

He can see the way your pupils dilate, your tongue wets your bottom lip, as you see him clearly for the first time.

‘You want to stay with me?’ he asks, silky. He takes another step.

You tilt your chin so you can keep looking at him.

‘Show me how much you want to stay.’

Yoongi turns his head towards the painting above the hearth.

‘Destroy it.’

You turn to the painting. 

It’s from the 14th century, by a little known Italian painter called Diavollo, depicting the death of Santa Lucia. He was gifted it by a corrupt nobleman in exchange for his life. Yoongi had taken both. 

You cast a defiant look at him, rush towards the painting. You stop, head bowed, before it.

‘I can’t.’ 

‘You can,’ Yoongi says, pitching his voice low, letting the heat of it flare out to you.

You clasp your hands together again, despairing. ‘I can’t.’

Steps heavy, head bowed, you head for the door. 

You stop just inside the front entrance to the chapel, as if giving him a chance to change his mind before he sends you to certain death.

Yoongi’s had countless beings plead for mercy from him in his long life and he has never once given in.

There’s a stirring in the recesses of his mind as he admires your profile for the last time. It feels like longing.

Then you’re gone, door swinging closed behind you.

***

Yoongi dislikes gatherings like this, when the princes of Hell and their delegates celebrate their misdeeds in front of the beings who serve them.

If Seokjin hadn’t asked him to attend as a personal favour, Yoongi would be in his home.

Oddly, he’s not been able to look at the Diavollo since you gave your life rather than destroy it.

He wonders if that sort of foolishness is what got you exiled.

He’s thought about your face so much that when he sees you, he’s momentarily stilled.

You’re knelt at the feet of Malvarius, the highest ranking demon of Yeomna’s court, save for Seokjin, and Yoongi himself.

Yoongi watches with revulsion as Malvarius scratches a bloodstained nail along the line of your neck, stopping at the iron collar around your throat.

Malvarius wraps his fist in the chain attached to your collar, tugs.

You fold to the ground in a heap of loose limbs and the sheer drapery he’s dressed you in.

Yoongi finds he still doesn’t care to see your face against the ground.

He approaches the demon, and you.

When you see him, there’s a flicker in your eyes.

‘She’s mine,’ Yoongi says, unceremoniously, to Malvarius.

Malvarius, the treacherous devil, says smoothly, ‘Pardon me?’

‘I made her a deal,’ Yoongi replies, preternaturally calm. ‘She owes me.’

Malvarius sits up, and Yoongi realises there’s a crowd gathering.

It doesn’t take much to have demons baying for blood.

Malvarius draws himself up to his full height.

‘Do you mean to say, Yoongi, that you own the soul of Azariel’s only daughter?’

Yoongi blinks.

Azariel, the most revered of the archangels, is a name that strikes fear even in the hearts of the most seasoned of demon princes.

You’re Azariel’s daughter? 

Yoongi remembers the way you cried over the Diavollo as you walked to your death.

You’d not used your father’s name as a bargaining chip. 

Yoongi says, coolly, ‘One fallen angel is just like any other.’

‘She’s a lusty slut,’ Malvarius remarks. ‘Can’t stop opening your legs for me, can you, angel?’

You gasp in pain as he pulls up on the chain, making you dance on your toes to keep from being choked.

Yoongi finds he doesn’t care for the sight of you in pain, either.

‘Give me what’s mine,’ he says, bored. ‘Or we can ask Yeomna to mediate.’

At the mention of the lord of Hell, Malvarius scowls. The last time he clashed with Seokjin, Yoongi had come very close to removing his power, Yeomna’s rules be damned.

He tosses the chain on the stone floor with a clang.

‘To your new master,’ he says, with little grace.

Yoongi removes the collar from around your neck.

‘Follow me,’ he commands.

Yoongi leads you through the debauchery, ignoring your gasps and sobbing breaths as you step through blood, entrails, sex. 

It’s only when you’ve followed him all the way back to his door that he speaks to you.

‘I’m deciding what to do with you,’ he tells you. ‘You will stay here, whilst I decide.’

‘My father won’t engage in barter for me,’ you say immediately. ‘He’d as soon as I was dead as alive.’

‘You must have done something terrible, angel.’ 

Your mouth clamps shut, lips flattening into a straight line.

‘Did you kill?’ Yoongi asks. ‘Maim?’

You barely react to his taunting tone.

‘Were you envious? Greedy?’

You’re quiet.

‘You’re not wrathful,’ Yoongi observes. 

He waits until your eyes meet his.

‘That leaves pride, and lust?’

From the way your face tightens he knows he’s stumbled upon his answer.

Yoongi lets his eyes travel to your beautiful form in the sheer silk you’re draped in.

Your breasts press against the material, rounded, enticing, and as he looks, your nipples tighten visibly.

‘Ah,’ Yoongi says, voice dropped to barely a whisper. ‘He said you were lustful.’

Yoongi leans down, close to your cheek, and enjoys the way you shiver as he breathes on your skin.

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your skin, and your pupils dilate so much your eyes are practically black.

Your lips part on his name, and Yoongi, for the first time in a long while, feels a surge of lust.

You stay completely still as he touches your cheek.

‘What do you want from me, angel?’ Yoongi taunts. ‘Aren’t you fallen enough?’

Your breath trembles in your chest as his fingers tighten on your face.

‘Come,’ says Yoongi. ‘Show me how you fell.’

He lets go of your face to caress the swells of your breasts, and you gasp, but you don’t stop him.

Instead, you arch your back to press your breasts into his palms.

‘You want more?’ Yoongi asks. He knows you do.

He grasps the front of your gown, rips it all the way down.

Your thighs tighten on his hand as he reaches between your legs.

Yoongi’s hand explores you, leisurely, slow, until you’re twitching and trembling.

Your nipples are so sensitive now that when Yoongi rolls his tongue around one you buck your hips into his hand.

‘Uhngh,’ you moan. 

Yoongi thumbs the bud at the top of your sex, and your warmth pulses around his fingers.

Wet, hot, tight.

Yoongi drags his tongue along the round of your breast, and your breathing hitches.

Your nipples are so puffy and erect they almost look painful.

You whine as he grasps your rounded flesh. The sound causes a stirring, low in his belly.

Yoongi’s cock swells at the sounds you make. You’re so pleasured, breathless, and he’s barely making any effort.

He’s already almost fully erect when your soft hand brushes the front of his groin.

‘Bold for an angel,’ he says.

There’s a spark in your eyes, clouded with lust. 

‘How many angels have you defiled, Lord Min?’

Yoongi considers your question as his eyes roam your beautiful body.

‘None,’ he tells you.

You smile, and you’re so pretty he can’t take his eyes off you.

‘Luckily, I’m not an angel any more.’

Yoongi smirks. ‘Let me show you how the other side lives.’

He turns, and you follow.

***

You’re lost, Yoongi isn’t sure when it happened, probably between your fourth, maybe fifth peak.

He’s covered in your arousal, he can taste you on his lips, on his tongue. His cock’s still so rigid inside you he’s aching, caught in the delirium between pleasure and pain.

He plunges into your wet warmth, rocking his hips against yours.

Your arms are limp, one draped around his neck, just barely holding on, the other splayed out, fingers uncurled. You look dazed, fucked out, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

You cry out as Yoongi moves, dragging his cock against the walls of your cunt, and he notes with grim satisfaction how hoarse your voice now is.

‘Yoongi,’ you beg, ‘wanna feel you.’

‘You’ll feel me,’ he promises.

You shake your head. ‘I want to feel your pleasure.’

Yoongi groans as you hold your legs apart for him, letting him see exactly how he cleaves you apart , the way he looks entering your core.

He wraps a hand around your neck, tight, and your eyes close. Your hand snakes around his wrist, urging him on.

You’re clenching around him so sweetly Yoongi’s disarmed, and when you press a kiss to his temple he releases, shouting your name, spilling inside you.

Belatedly, he remembers to loosen his grip around your neck, and as you remain still he feels an unnerving wave of fear that he might have hurt you.

He says your name, and you stir. Relief floods through his chest. 

‘Stay,’ you mumble into his chest. ‘Stay.’

Yoongi curls his arm around you, a display of skinship he’s unused to but that you seem to want.

He wonders, curious, why he’s swayed to want to give you what you want.

***

You wake during the night. 

Yoongi’s flat on his back, arm propping up his head. He watches with dark amusement as you look your fill at his naked form. 

‘You’re too wide-eyed considering you have my seed all over you,’ he drawls. 

You blink at him. ‘I was surprised to wake, my lord.’

‘You thought I’d kill Azariel’s fallen daughter?’ Yoongi muses, not bothering to acknowledge how close to the truth you are. 

‘You do have a reputation, Lord Min,’ you say, so seriously that it takes him a moment to realise you’re teasing him. 

He’s startled into laughter that sounds rusty even to him. 

You turn over, breasts spilling onto the silk bedcovers, lush and beautiful like you were made to tempt him. 

His cock stirs, and it doesn’t escape your notice, minx that you are. 

You reach for him, gentle, soft against his hardness. 

Yoongi groans, eyes never leaving you as you stroke him. Your lips part on a breath, tongue flicking between. The cavern of your mouth feels like the heaven Yoongi will never know. 

He’s never rued being born a demon prince until this moment. 

Yoongi pulls you off his rigid shaft, seeks the warmth between your legs. You’re already gasping, spreading to take him, so soft and slick and willing he can barely hold himself back. 

His hand finds its way around your neck again, squeezing, and the pleasure ramps up a thousandfold. 

Your back arches as you peak, and this time Yoongi doesn’t have the patience to deny himself. He groans into your hair as he fills you, remembers to loosen his grip. 

You’re emboldened to press a kiss to his lips, a moment of contact so searing Yoongi’s jolted out of his post-pleasure daze. 

Neither of you speak, and neither of you makes a move to leave. 

***

It’s just past dawn when Yoongi stirs to the back of your entirely naked body. 

You’re getting re-dressed, helping yourself to his clothes. 

‘I should go,’ you say. 

Yoongi hadn’t realised you’d noticed he was awake. 

Pandemonium has passed, but Yoongi finds he doesn’t care for any possibility that you might get hurt. 

He rises, unclasps a chain from around his neck, fastens it around your own. The ancient rune now hanging between your collarbones is distinctly, identifiably, his. 

There aren’t many who would seek his wrath. 

‘My father will —--’ 

‘Rue the day he let you fall into the hands of a demon prince?’ suggests Yoongi. 

The hint of a smile plays around your lips, and Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away. 

‘I’ll be back,’ you say. There's a faint question in your voice.

‘See that you are,’ Yoongi replies. 

You bow slightly. ‘My lord.’ 

You take your leave, and Yoongi allows himself to watch you go until you slip between two buildings, and then you’re gone. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

Well said Yoongles, well said 👏👏👏

YOONGI SAYS LOVE YOURSELF

♡︎ — us, ourselves, and bts

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗱 ♡

congrats, jen! can i request namjoon + “how mad would you be if i kissed you?” for your blogiversary event? <3

feather light | knj

pairing: namjoon x reader

rating: G

genre/warnings: strangers to lovers, fluff, barely any angst unless you count aerophobia as angst?, unedited bc that should be its own warning lol

word count: 1.1k

note: thank you so much for sending in a request!! it's been a while, i know, apologies for the delay!! for some reason i've always wanted to write a drabble where namjoon is a stranger on a plane hahahha i'm glad i was able to incorporate that idea into this request!! i hope you enjoy it heheh ☺️

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

If you’re being honest, you don’t recall much of February 24.

You remember boarding the plane, and finding your seat, and fastening your seatbelt, and gnawing on your bottom lip like chewing gum throughout the pilot’s announcement. It was a relatively short flight, only two hours from your city to the island where your friend’s wedding took place that weekend. Usually, you can handle short flights just fine. You just needed to take your meds beforehand and you’d be good to go.

Except, you’d forgotten them at the hotel, on the counter in the bathroom, before you headed for the airport.

Looking back now, was it divine intervention?

Maybe. The universe works in mysterious ways. You’ll never know for sure.

Then, as you internally freaked out in seat 17A, you just knew that life absolutely sucked. Your own brain was feeding you the most terrible thoughts and painting the most gruesome scenarios of all the things that could go wrong over the next two hours. 

It was great - truly amazing - that you only had your brain for company and nothing to distract you.

You hated every aspect of flying, but takeoff and landing might have to the parts you despised the most. When the plane rumbled to life and began to slowly move on the runway, your hands immediately slapped down on the armrests and held onto them for dear life. You remember squeezing your eyes shut and not even daring to take a breath, as if one exhale could send you and all the other passengers to the nether world.

You remember staying completely still for five whole minutes, until the plane settled into a smooth rhythm and glided through the clouds with ease.

You remember taking an experimental breath, but then something warm moved underneath your right palm and you almost screeched in horror.

You remember opening your eyes to find yourself clutching the hand of the person sitting in the seat next to yours. The events of that day may not be very clear in your mind, but the absolute mortification you felt in that moment still sometimes resurfaces to the front of your brain.

You remember scrambling to apologize for holding his hand hostage and not even realizing it. You remember watching him smile amusedly and reassuring you that it was fine. You remember his soothing voice as he told you that his little sister was scared of flying too, “It’s all good.”

You remember the dimples and the kind eyes that calmed your storm for a split second.

Maybe that’s the real reason why you don’t remember February 24 all that well.

Maybe it was something that you only read in books and watched in movies: Love, at first sight.

You remember your hands getting clammy and he mistook it for your fear rearing its ugly head again. He started talking, no doubt to help distract you from the fact that you were thousands and thousands of feet in the air.

Admittedly, you couldn’t really focus on what he was saying, just that he was telling you how he was getting back from a trip with his friends. Something about being an art collector, something about vitamin B powder…

You don’t even know what you replied to his questions and stories, if you even responded at all or if you just sat there, listening but not really listening.

The task of trying not to make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of this beautiful stranger got you through the better part of the dreadful two hours, until the very end.

When the plane shook, only once and it was just very light turbulence, but that was enough for you to spiral again.

Curse the meds that were probably thrown away by housekeeping at that point, and curse you for leaving them behind.

You were back to square one, even though there were only twenty minutes left to endure. Your hands gripped whatever they could find as a means to ground yourself, and it just so happened that his hands were nearby.

You remember his long and delicate fingers wrapping around your sweaty ones, holding your hand back.

You remember him telling you that everything was fine, that you were almost home.

“Breathe.”

“In and out. 1… 2… 3…”

“That’s it… It’s almost over.”

You remember his warmth not leaving your palm until the plane landed, and the other passengers started getting their luggage from the overhead storage.

When you made it back onto solid ground and inside the safety of the airport, you thanked him for putting up with you the past couple of hours. He said he was glad that he could help, and you asked for his name then, shyly.

“Namjoon,” he answered with a dashing smile. “I told you on the plane.”

You remember flushing with embarrassment once again.

You walked together outside, then stopped to stand in silence as each of you ordered your own Uber.

Yours arrived first, and Namjoon helped you put your suitcase in the trunk of the car.

Sure, you might not remember much of what happened on February 24, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re sitting here, in the waiting lounge of that same airport three and a half years later. This time, you remember to bring your meds, but nevertheless, your leg still bounces in anticipation of the flight you’ll be boarding soon. Until his hand lands on your knee to soothe your nerves, and his voice is clear in your ears.

“Stop that,” he chuckles. “You’re making my seat vibrate.”

You shoot him a glare and your best pout. “I can’t believe you’re making me fly on our anniversary. I should be so mad at you.”

He laughs then, gentle hand moving from your knee to interlace your fingers, diluting this “anger” of yours that’s already as non-existent as it is.

“How mad would you be if I told you that we can do whatever we want for the next five stress-free days? Fancy hotel spas, lounging by the pool all day, dinners right on the beach… I even called your boss and asked for two more days off if you want to stay longer.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, but he sees right through you. “Still very mad.”

He narrows his eyes playfully, squeezing your hand because he knows he’s already forgiven. “And how mad would you be if I kissed you? My kisses always make you feel better, mhmm?”

You remember that feeling you had on February 24, when you saw him smile for the first time.

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 11.03.2023]

Love, Lust & Litigation | Interlude - NYE (Namjoon POV)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+) whole fic, this chapter PG-13 (for language)

Warnings: some swearing in this chapter, nothing explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon. 

A/N: It's been a long time coming but here she is! The next installment of LL&L! This takes place in the middle of Chapter 5. More about it in the A/N at the end. Thanks for all your patience as I got over a bit of writer's block (and writer's unmotivation lmao). This is my first time writing a member's POV, so hopefully I did it justice!

As always, I’d love feedback if you have any! Enjoy ~

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6

Namjoon Kim doesn’t make New Year’s resolutions. 

It’s a stupid concept, in his humble opinion. Not only is it an arbitrary date to make a change, most people spend the first day of the new year recovering from the night before. Can anyone really make any progress toward their goals while nursing a massive hangover?  

No. If Namjoon wants to make a change, he’ll just do it. He won’t wait until Monday, or to the first of the month. He'll just do it.

Of course, if anyone asks if he’s made any resolutions, he’ll just smile and say “Oh, you know, the usual,” or some other noncommittal answer. His coworkers don’t need to know he thinks it’s a stupid concept. He hasn’t gotten to where he is today by ranting about the uselessness of New Year’s resolutions. 

This year, though, this year might be different.

He arrives late to Jimin’s New Year’s Eve party. Everyone at Jimin's fancy high-rise apartment is past buzzed and barreling toward black-out drunk, and here he is, newly arrived and sober. 

Before he can go in search of alcohol, Jimin finds him. 

“You’re late! Why are you late? It’s New Year’s Eve!” 

Some urgent thing at work kept him there. It seemed life-changing and super important in the moment, but as Namjoon opens his mouth to answer, for the life of him, he can’t remember exactly what it was.

Jimin flaps his hand as if to wave the question out of the air before Namjoon can think of anything to say. 

“Whatever. The more important issue is, you’re not sparkling!” 

The theme for the party is “Sparkle or Bust,” in reference to both drinks and outfits. Namjoon doesn’t make a habit of keeping spare sequined shirts in his office, so he’s in one of his work suits, sans tie and jacket. 

Several hours’ worth of alcohol dulls Jimin’s outrage at Namjoon’s failure to follow the theme and he hands Namjoon a bedazzled NYE tiara and a glass of champagne without further berating.

“There. Much better.” 

Jimin leaves as suddenly as he arrived. 

Namjoon stays on the periphery of the party, sipping on the champagne. He recognizes people from work and some of Jimin’s friends he’s met in the past, but they’re all involved in their own conversations. 

His gaze wanders from person to person, wondering if any of them made resolutions, if they’ve ever kept them. If anything has ever changed—actually changed—by making a resolution for the new year. 

If it’s even worth it to hope for a change.

He keeps looking and his eyes catch on a familiar figure across the room. Jungkook, wearing a ridiculous, shiny blazer that he has no business looking so good in. Namjoon’s stomach does a little flip as he notices, not for the first time, how Jungkook’s shoulders fill out the blazer, broad and strong. He’s talking with Taehyung, Jimin’s roommate, a tall eccentric whose family owns half the city.

The crowd shifts, and Namjoon’s stomach flips again when he catches sight of you, looking increasingly irritated at the conversation between the two men. Now you’re rolling your eyes, annoyed at something they’ve said. 

Namjoon’s eyes follow you as you yank the sliding glass doors to the balcony open. Before he knows it, he’s making his way to the door, murmuring his apologies as he tries not to bulldoze his coworkers out of the way. 

Before Namjoon can reach the door, Jungkook is already there, round eyes apologetic and pleading as he slips out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. Namjoon stops in the middle of the crowd. 

He’s too late. 

Again. 

He tips the contents of his champagne glass down his throat. It’s not enough to quiet the self-loathing, but enough to carry him to the glass door and peer out onto the balcony. 

You’re looking up at Jungkook, something like disappointment on your face. He has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the bare skin to warm you up in the cold. Your expression softens. You’re forgiving him for whatever transgression he has committed. 

An ugly roil of feelings churns in Namjoon’s gut, a mix of jealousy, envy, and longing he doesn’t want to untangle. 

Regret, though, is what he feels the most. There were so many moments when he could have done something, anything, when he could have made his feelings clear to either, both of you. 

Yoongi pushed him to do something, to say something. Of course he did, what else are best friends for? But even though Namjoon saw want clearly written in Jungkook’s eyes, time and time again, he hesitated. Every time they touched, whether in passing in the office, or when they were working out together, Namjoon was so careful, so careful to not let his hands linger, even though all he wanted to do was feel the planes of Jungkook’s body against his, strong and muscular. Because it was inappropriate, because of Namjoon’s position, because he was Jungkook’s mentor. 

And then you showed up, beautiful, confident. Every time you won a case, you lit up the room, radiant, victorious. And all Namjoon wanted to do was crowd you against the elevator walls as you headed back to the office together. He wanted to know if you were as soft and pliable out of your clothes as you were hard and unyielding in the courtroom. Yoongi had more to say every time you and Namjoon were in his restaurant. But again Namjoon hesitated. 

And he was too late. All he has left is regret and unrelenting visions of both of you, soft and hard, next to him, on top and below him, wanting nothing more than the all-encompassing press of warm skin against skin. 

A loud bang pulls him back to the party. One of the ladies from IT tripped into the glass door beside Namjoon. He reaches out to steady her, his hand on her elbow. She blushes when Namjoon smiles at her, and she laughs it off, embarrassed.

By the time he turns back to glance out to the balcony, Jungkook has you wrapped up in his blazer and you’re both facing out to the city. 

Someone claps him on the shoulder, and he looks back to see Taehyung. “You look like you need something stronger than champagne.” 

A karaoke machine appears sometime before midnight. 

Namjoon has officially joined the ranks of the well and truly sloshed. Taehyung took him to the large pantry behind the kitchen, where Jimin had stashed the good bottles of whisky behind boxes of cereal, and he has gone back several times for a refill.

He doesn’t let himself get this drunk, not usually. He’s so careful, always so fucking careful, about how he’s perceived, about what he’s expected to do, how he’s supposed to act, as an adult, as a manager, as the hotshot lawyer people think he is. But the whisky warms his stomach tonight and blurs the edges of the sharp feelings deep in the pit of his stomach. 

Whoever is screeching at the karaoke machine needs to stop. He feels it in the base of his skull and it’s making the night all the more unpleasant than it already is. He can tell them off, of course he can. He’s the head of Litigation. 

He stumbles his way into the living room to make the horrible noise stop, but the song ends before he can get across the room. Thank god. He’s about to turn back to the kitchen to top up his glass when an angelic voice comes through the speakers. 

It takes a few blinks to focus his eyes. He eventually sees across the room that Jungkook has taken the mic, with Taehyung’s arms slung around his shoulders. 

They’re swaying as Jungkook sings “Leave The Door Open” by Silk Sonic. The rumble of the party quiets down. Someone whoops when he nails a high note. 

Namjoon leans back against the wall for support. It’s not the first time he’s heard Jungkook singing. He hums constantly in the office, but it’s only when he’s several drinks in and past the point of self-consciousness that he lets loose and really sings. His eyes are closed, not needing the lyrics, as he belts the song. 

A little sigh sounds next to him and he turns to see you, also leaning against the wall. Your eyes are soft for the man across the room, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Namjoon looks back at Jungkook, and those feelings he was trying to dam with alcohol come rushing back. 

“You’re lucky, you know?” 

He doesn’t even realize he’s spoken out loud until he hears your voice beside him.

“Lucky?” 

Fuck. He has to say something. Clarify? Does he owe that to you?

“Look at him,” he says, gesturing across the room with his glass. “He’s hot and talented and good at his job. Competent people are hard to come by.” Shut up shut up shut up Namjoon, you’re rambling. “You’re competent too.” 

“Thanks?” 

The song ends and the room cheers for one more. Namjoon keeps his eyes trained across the room as Jungkook queues up another song. He can’t look at you right now. You’re too close.  

"Don't be a manager. It's overrated," he says quietly. "Careers don’t fucking matter. You have that freedom still, to do whatever.” 

The next song starts, “Falling” by Harry Styles. A shiver runs down Namjoon’s spine as Jungkook starts singing. 

“Jesus, just listen to his voice.” 

“Boss, are you okay?” you ask, putting your hand on Namjoon’s arm. 

He closes his eyes at the touch, and at that fucking nickname. He hates it. Hates his role at work, his chronic overthinking. He fucking despises himself for the person he’s crafted himself to be, hiding behind a job title, too focused on what society tells him is success to chase what he wants now. 

He looks at you, finally, to see confusion and concern written all over your face. 

“I’m happy for you two.” He can hear the sadness in his own voice and it’s fucking pathetic. He goes to take a sip of his drink, but it’s empty. Again. “I really am. Truly.” 

You just look at him like you’re about to say something nice and sweet and heartbreaking. Fuck. He’s gotta get out of here. 

In his drunk haze, he doesn’t realize that you don’t follow him to the kitchen. 

Karaoke ends with everyone scream-singing some pop-punk song that Namjoon vaguely recognizes. 

It’s getting close to midnight anyway, so the party roars back into swing, bass thumping, people dancing in the living room in a crush of bodies. 

Namjoon stands against the wall, the empty drink glass in his hand, watching everyone else lose their inhibitions. Even drunk as he is, the vice grip of anxiety keeps him from joining the crowd, from letting loose, and letting his body move to the music. 

He spots you and Jungkook in the crowd, your back against his, eyes closed as you dance to the beat, both faces flushed with alcohol. Namjoon waits, anticipating… something. What exactly, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that this picture is incomplete. He sits on the outside, watching the two of you from afar.

Then it hits him. He’s used to it now, like breathing, like the sun rising and setting, your faces turning towards Namjoon like sunflowers face the sun. Always finding him in a room. How many times has he locked eyes from across the room with Jungkook, with you?

And now, you’re not looking at Namjoon. Neither of you are. 

As the countdown to midnight starts, Jungkook spins you around to face him. You laugh and join in counting with the crowd. 

3…

Namjoon holds his own countdown, waiting for either or both sets of eyes to find him on the edge of the crowd. 

2…

Jungkook’s arms wrap around you. 

1…

Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

Happy New Year!

You’re kissing and laughing, rejoicing in the new year. When Jungkook’s eyes open, they’re trained on your face, and you look back, eyes only for Jungkook. 

Something breaks inside Namjoon. He doesn’t even know who his envy is aimed towards. Does he want to be Jungkook, kissing you, or does he want to be in your place, cupping the back of Jungkook’s head? 

Things never change on New Year’s Eve, except this year, something has. 

He slips out of the party without anyone noticing. The sharp cold brings him back to his senses. Without the party in his head, he can breathe. He can think. 

His breath fogs up in the early morning air. Every inhale brings a cold clarity back to him. 

He knows what he has to do. 

A/N II: This scene was originally meant to take place in the middle of Chapter 5 from reader's POV. The more I worked on it, the more I struggled with it. The whole chapter was dragging and nothing I wrote was working, so I took it out. I think it improved the flow of Ch 5 and helped me finish Ch 5 a bit faster. It's still an important part of the story, and I think it worked better from Namjoon's POV. So before we head to the final couple chapters (!!!!) I really wanted to show how Namjoon's been feeling. (And my brain wouldn't let me work on Ch 6 until I finished this.)

I'm not gonna put a date on the next installment. It's still largely unwritten, but hopefully the momentum from finishing this helps with the draft for Ch 6. Thanks for your patience! Lots of forehead kisses for y'all 💕

Come back to me by RM at the Agust D tour D-Day the Final concert (Aug. 6, 2023)

This hurts me to the core…I’m still not over loosing our sassy Duchess even after all these years. It hurts to think about her and she still visits me in my dreams …

He is the love of my life 😍

My mood every time I listen to Take Two

I need to read all of the things on this list!

bangtan shorts masterlist

night thots and other shorts ‼️

☆ short #1 ~ jungkook: stupid amounts of cum

☆ short #2 ~ yoongi: oral

☆ short #3 ~ namjoon: belly bulge

☆ short #4 ~ taehyung: a simple love for thighs

☆ short #5 ~ jin: cock warming

☆ short #6 ~ jimin: mutual masturbation

☆ short #7 ~ hobi: fake cum, real cum & a butt plug

☆ short #8 ~ jungkook: morning sex

☆ short #9 ~ taehyung: ghostface

☆ short #10 ~ taehyung: cum swallowing

☆ short #11 ~ jungkook: body worship

☆ short #12 ~ yoongi: sex in the dressing room

☆ short #13 ~ jimin: oral fixation

☆ short #14 ~ jin: fingering

☆ short #15 ~ namjoon: a specific love for creampies

☆ short #16 ~ jungkook: car sex and pantie stuffing

☆ short #17 ~ hobi: dacryphilia

☆ short #18 ~ taehyung: praise

☆ short #19 ~ jungkook: boob luvr

☆ short #20 ~ jungkook: mirror sex & a beefy back

☆ short #21 ~ jungkook: face riding

☆ short #22 ~ namjoon: slip of the tongue

Vermilion - Jeon Jungkook Part 1

The fate of the band rests of the back of the two people who couldn’t hate each other more. What happens when they’re forced to pick between rivalry or fame?

Warning’s - cuss words, Jungkook is an asshole. E2L

Bts , Ateez , NCT , request open!

____________________________________________

You know how in cartoons when people are so angry that steam blows from their ears and their faces are almost too red to make out any features? That all seemed so silly before, but now it's all falling into place. The look on your manager’s face was an absolute picture copy from the cartoons, his brows were furrowed, his breathing was so heavy it echoed off the walls, and truth be told it actually seemed like steam was rising off his body like it was asphalt. You thought his metal desk was about to fall apart at the hinges from the sheer force of his fist. Men don’t normally intimidate you, but right now he has enough anger in him to snap a person's neck within a split second.

“Any of you want to explain to me why these numbers are suddenly so low? Hmm?” The papers were flung down on the table, the thick stack made the metal ring through the room. All eyes were glued to that stack, but they would occasionally shift towards the manger and right back to the crisp white sheets. His eyebrow was cocked as he stared each and everyone of you down. “No one wants to fess up, take responsibility for this? Well okay then, I’ll sum it up for you, y/n and Jungkook, before I proceed. Is there anything you want to share with the class?”

Before you could even let a mere word pass through your lips, you were completely cut off by an agitating little voice. “Well, maybe you should just ask our lead singer, those voice cracks on stage probably are knocking our sales down. No one wants their eardrums to bleed.” Your arms gripped the arms of the chair as you turned to face him. His stupid cocky grin plastered on his face. This bastard thinks he has the right to speak on your voice, what about him? His stupid drum solos probably cause everyone within a hundred mile radius to go deaf. That stupid eyebrow piercing probably blinds everyone in the front row.

“Voice cracks, really? Is that the best you can come up with! What about you being late to practice, hell you’re even late to the performances half the time!” He simply rolled his eyes at your rant as he scratched his upper lip. His body language gave away that the comment struck him. He could say anything, because you were right. The only thing about him was that he is a cocky asshole who has no respect for other people's time. Right now the only thing on his mind was whoever legs he was gonna be between tonight.

“Guys, do you seriously not see the problem! You two bickering like kids is the problem!” Namjoon scoffed as he slammed his body against the back of the chair. His hands are trying to rub soothing circles on his temple. A soft sigh passed through his lips as he tried to form more words to help you two understand this situation, but god he couldn’t come up with anything! He’s tired of sugar coating everything he ever says, but in doing so it’s made this stupid rival go on longer than it should have.

“You guys aren’t that fucking stupid are you?” This time it was Yoongi speaking, his calm demeanor was a drastic difference from the sentence that came through his lips. Yoongi was definitely a keep to himself kind of person, he truly did love you all so much, but god this was becoming infuriating. This group was his life, the good money he’s made has been paying off his college debts and even though he loves you he can’t afford to lose this, he can’t afford to lose you all. “Don’t look at me like I have three heads or some shit, you both know what we’re talking about.”

“I don’t get it, guys, I really haven’t done anything wrong.” Before you could even blink your hand was lifted in the air and soon made contact with a full head of hair. Jungkook’s head went flying forward as he slowly turned his head towards you. From a few inches away you could see his stupid lip curving up every so slightly. “Awe, sweetheart, I didn’t know you liked it rough.”

“Enough! That’s enough! I’m so sick and tired of you two putting this group and my business at jeopardy! Are you two really that selfish?” His question hung in the air heavily as he eyed the two of you. If his eyebrow stayed cocked any longer you were almost certain it was gonna freeze like that. Mr.Young pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. “I’ve received multiple complaints that this feud you two have is plummeting this groups sales.”

“Wait hold up! Just the other day you said our numbers were higher than ever!” You exclaimed as you leaned forward in your chair. The feeling of the denim smoothing your palms was doing nothing to soon the surge of dread that was filling your body. What did he mean you were the cause of sales going down, he can’t truly mean that.

“I said some of your solo projects were high than ever, but since we’re airing everything out. I was talking about Kim Namjoons, and Min Yoongi’s solo projects.” Mr. Young confessed as he saw both yours and Jungkook's eyes widened drastically. Not missing how the other two band mates also had eyes the size of saucers. “Now you guys are practically my family, but right now I’m having to consider other possible solutions to this problem.”

“What kind of solutions are we talking about?” Namjoon inquired as he scooted his body towards the edge of the chair. All eyes were now on Mr.Young as he stayed silent. You could hear the ticking of the nearby clock. All the blood in your body was starting to run cold, and you could feel all the color draining from your face as the seconds tick on. Namjoon cleared his throat before he spoke again, “What kind of solutions?”

“I’ve had multiple investors come to me about Namjoon and Yoongi, so one of the solutions would be for Vermillion to break up.”

“Hold up, do we even get a say in this! Maybe Namjoon and I don’t even want to go solo!” Yoongi popped up as he leaned forward in his chair. Both hands are now gripping the back of yours and Jungkook. His knuckles turning white from the firm hold he has on the cushion. “We’ve been a band for three damn years, I’m not ready to throw it all away.”

“I said solutions, meaning plural, before I cause you all to jump me, here's the other side. Y/n, Jungkook, you know this band has a tour coming up in three months, correct?” You could see from the corner of your eye Jungkook was the only one quite literally not on the edge of his seat. In fact you could see a small light beside his thigh, at the worst possible moment he picked to be on his fucking cell phone. “I guess I’m speaking to three instead of four, but this tour will take everything we’ve got, are you two prepared to act like more of an adult?”

“Act like more of an adult? What the hell does that supposed mean? I’ve only given constructive criticism and if you want my honest opinion Y/n really don't need to be in the band.” You truly could’ve killed him at that moment. His cockiness started getting to his head the moment the band took off. But before you couod even defend yourself he spoke again. “I mean what does she truly bring to the table? Namjoon plays killer bass, yoongi raps and writes our songs. I choreographed almost all of our dances, and what does she do? Sing in a flat tone?”

“See that’s what I’m talking about, you two are always at each other's throats and it’s tiring, so if you all don’t want this to go away. You two are gonna need to figure out how to at least act like you can stand to be within ten feet of each other!” Mr.Young exclaimed as he circled his desk, before he placed himself upon it. “Three months, and I’ve already scheduled interviews, meet and greets and so much more. If I don’t see improvement then we all will go our separate ways.”

With that Mr.Young grabbed his briefcase and made a brisk exit for the door. He sighed heavily before turning his body back to his group. “You all have an interview tomorrow, please I’m begging you just get it sorted out.” And with that his presence was soon on the other side of the door. Out of sight and seemingly out of mind.

Namjoon cleared his throat to speak, but before he could Jungkook haisley stood up. The wooden legs screeching against the marble of the floor. The sound makes your head wince. His heavy boots slapped against the floor as he made a b-line for the door. “Before you all bust my chops about how we’re all supposed to have a heart to heart right now. I can’t, but you all can just text me the meeting place tomorrow.”

“What an asshole!” Yoongi huffed as he slumped back in his chair. He looks as defeated as Mr.Young did before he finally left the room. The silence in the room was eerie, it was not like you all to be quiet. If anything you’re all normally chatting up a storm so loud the people next door could hear. But now the only thing being heard was the conversions people were having outside the door. “I don’t know what his problem is, but y/n you know you’re not useless to the band.”

“You’ve come up with countless merchandise ideas, you’ve written multiple songs with us, hell without that pretty little head of yours we would’ve never even gotten the connections to form the band.” Namjoon spoke so highly of you, yet none of it seemed real. Jungkook’s voice was echoing in your mind over and over again. Maybe you weren’t meant to be in the band, maybe the sidelines of production is where you were meant to fall. “Plus I don’t know what he’s talking about with flat notes, I’ve seen you mess up once, and that was back when the bad first started.”

“You really are an amazing asset to this team, and I’m not just saying that to bullshit around, y/n. But now I’m not gonna sit here and lie and say that you don’t add fuel to the fire when he acts like that, because sometimes you do.”

“I know I do, but god it’s so hard having to take hit after hit from him everyday! Maybe you two should —“ before the sentence could even leave your mouth both men were shushing you. Their protest sent a warm chill down your spine as you stared at them. Their comforting eyes were almost enough to set you at ease. But before any of them could speak, a simultaneous ding rang in your ears.

“He booked us a hotel, he said the interviews were a few cities away.” Namjoon sighed as he stood up and straightened out his pants. “And it looks like we’ve got roommates.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You exclaimed as you read the message on your phone. The vein in your forgead felt like it was about to burst. You didn’t want to be kept in a room for days with him of all people. You two could have easily just played it cool in front of the cameras, there was no need to punish you by making this a roommate ordeal. The three of your sighed loudly as you all walked to the door.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad, y/n. Besides if anything gets too out of hand we’re only a few rooms down.” Namjoon smiled as he opened the door to let you two out first.

“You say that and watched I’ll wake up with one of his knifes in my stomach.” You fakily laughed as you seareched your pocket for your car keys.

“He’s stupid I know, but that idiot is not dumb enough to commit murder.” Yoongi tried his best to comfort you, but things like that were never really good for him. He didn’t know how to give comfort or receive it, really.

“Well, let’s hope not.” With that you pressed the elevator button and it started to descend. He wouldn't really hurt you, would he? Questions like that raced in your mind as you stood there staring at the glass walls of the elevator. This feels like it was going to be your worst nightmare come true.

——————————————————————

This was truly something out of a book. The two rivals have to bunk up and room together. This was absolutely ridiculous.

I know the roommate's situations aren’t ideal but you two need to spend some time together and try to at least appear happy. And please for the sake of the band act civil and that means no screaming matches tonight.

You sighed as you read the text messages over and over again. The thought of being in a room alone with him only made you more scared. The goosebumps scattering across your skin right now served to show how tore up this whole situation has gotten you. The door slamming shut brought you out your haze, it at least could’ve been a good thing that walked through the door. But your luck was never that good.

“Don’t speak, I’m gonna shower and then go to sleep.”

You didn’t protest, you only held your hands up in a way of saying, okay. The last thing you wanted to do was speak to him, or even anyone for that matter of fact. He ignored you completely and flung his duffel bag in the bed, shoveling through the contents of the bag. Things were getting through so hastily that the only thing you could do was sit back down in the bed and face the window. You saw his silhouette through the window panes, and then he disappeared into the bathroom. With a quick lock of the door you knew it was safe to turn around.

The mess on his bed was enough to make you gag. His clothes were thrown around and you could only guess those pairs of purple panties were from his new hookups. The thought of him not even knowing her name disgusted you. Jungkook was truly a pig for better words, and you don’t even know how he made it into the band in the first place. But the one thing that caught your eye was the bright red leather that was halfway out of the bag. The leather material had a slight shine to it from the lamp nearby. The badass bad boy, Jeon Jungkook, had a diary? You knew it wasn’t right, and you knew that snooping never ended well.

But your mind raced with possibilities as to what was kept inside of that thing. Maybe in that thing was the missing piece you needed to understand why he hated you so much. And all you needed to do was flip the dianity pages really quickly and just fill yourself in. You raced yourself off the bed and it felt like entirely before you were face to face with his duffel bag. But before your hands could even grasp the material of the bag the bathroom door flung open.

You’ve been caught almost red handed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He questioned as he bolted towards his bag. Small water droplets placed themselves upon your skin as he shook his head. “Awe, are you upset there, not your panties?”

He doesn’t know you know. He doesn’t know that you saw the small red book peeking through the clothes. Maybe you’ll be in the clear if you play your cards right.

“God you’re so gross, I was trying to pick up the mess you made considering we’re gonna be here a few days.” You scoffed as you held back a gag from picking his underwear. A quick hand snachted it from yours as he threw it back into the bag. A small eye roll from him was enough to put your mood down once more. “Fine, leave your half of the room in a pigsty, but I’m going to bed.”

“Good, I was getting tired of looking at your face in the light anyways.” He gave the fakest smile he could before he turned his body away from you. You know you should but you stared at his toned back that was still shining with fresh droplets, and you hated to admit it, but god he was attractive.

But right now you didn’t even want to dignify that with a response, you simply slipped off your house shoes and climbed into bed. You turned towards the window and turned out your lamp, you breathed a small sigh before saying, “goodnight, Jungkook. And don’t forget we have to be up early in the morning before the interviews tomorrow.”

“Shut the hell up, y/n.” He scoffed slightly as you heard him rustling around in his bed. The creaking of the bed spring was starting to become annoying with every second that passed on. What the hell was he doing?

And with that last sentence spoken, the room went pitch black. But out of curiosity you peeled one eye open for a split second. Through the window you could see a small light appearing in front of Jungkook. Looks like he was writing a new entry in his little diary. And it might be the death of you, but you needed to know what he was writing about. Was he writing about his hookups, the guys, or even you? You could feel it in your gut that the book was going to something that could help the band altogether.

And you were determined to know all the secrets Jeon Jungkook has hidden within those pages