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arte factum | pjm

After your ex-husband is found dead in his house, you’re burdened with the well-being of his latest invention, a good-looking, polite android who seems to have a peculiar interest in you.

Word count: 17k

Warnings: smut, somnophilia, obsessive behaviour, suicide, mentions of domestic and psicological abuse.

# Artifical Intelligence AU, horror, sci-fi, sub!Jimin, dom!female reader, yandere!android Jimin, vouyerism, he uses one of her panties to jerk off 😭, ma’am/Master kink, homeboy just doesn’t handle well seeing her naked, creampie, ‘unprotected’ vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), nipple play, overstimulation, fingering, horny groping, he needs to chill, face-fucking him with her fingers? idk.

A/N: lots of plot, read with caution. I don’t really know what else to say. Just, hm, enjoy the filth? Sub!yanderes are probably one of my lowest fantasies 😗✌️

Read this story listening to its own Spotify playlist.

Keep reading

when he’s mean but never physically >>

when he’s mean but protective >>>>> 💥💥💥

this is my type of shit 🤩

thank you for tagging me even though i didn’t recall signing up for Little Mouse’s taglist 😭 but at least i got a quick notification when this was posted so keep me in for part 2 too <3

squirming in my seat as i wait for the second part 👩‍💻

[One-shot]

Little Mouse — Park Jimin (Part 1)

✔︎ Summary: the principal's son, the reason why you can't enjoy school and the reason why you can't leave it finds out you're having a date with somebody that isn't him. ✔︎ Word Count: 7.6k (first part) ✔︎ Trope: Bully Yandere Jimin x Chubby brazilian oc, enemies to lovers (?), smut ✔︎ Warnings: 19 year old jimin (because he's hot asf), bullying, fat shaming, self esteem issues, evil teenagers, physical violence, gore, degradation, jimin is obnoxious, forced voyeurism, se*ual tension, bratty reader, dom jimin, public s*x, jealousy, possessive Jimin, praise, regret, stalking, supplication, jimin has humiliation kink (he's lowkey a sub), delusional behaviour. ✔︎ thvlouvre's note: honestly it's been a hell of a week for me and to write this one has been a little difficult, and since it's been 10 days and it's still not ready I wanted to post the first part at least, maybe your feedback will motivate me 🫶🏻❤️ thank u again to the lovely @lilliankoo for her help and proofreading this! part 2 coming out later when this flu is goneeee 🤧

“Sorry, but you seem to be fully recovered, I can’t give you another day” the doctor said while checking with a lamp over  your eyes, moving around the flashlight from one extreme to the other making your sight follow it. 

“I still feel dizzy, though” you lied, trying to play dumb so you could get one more day at least. 

“That might be because you’re not eating well, you look pale and tired” the doctor turned off the lamp and put  it inside his coat pocket, at the mention of food your stomach twisted needy “If the blow on your head isn’t because you fell off, and it was something else you should tell me, is somebody bothering you __?”

You stared at him, his silver hair and greyish skin making him look like someone you could trust, but at the same time remembering you were not one of them, you were just another foreigner in that hell’s school, and everybody was up to his service. 

You moved here six months ago, when you won a scholarship to a franchise of your own high school in another country, same classes, same uniform, same installations, different language, and people. It was very exciting and new, it was all fun and games until he saw his next victim  in you  to unleash his devilish games. 

Park Jimin. The top-notch student. 

Handsome and rich, great manners and great body paired with a beautiful smile, but his eyes were from another world. Cold, lifeless, evil. Every single time he glanced at you, you could feel the contempt he had for you, the hateful and vicious disgust he felt for you. And he was never alone, he surrounded himself with a litter of creeps, bootlickers that did whatever he told them to do. 

His aggressions started by being harmless, they were playful even. He would drink a sip from your strawberry milk and return it almost empty. It didn’t bother you, you had a fridge in your room full of those. He would steal your pencils or change your backpack and books to the last chair of the room when you went to the restroom in the middle of the class. Yes, they were annoying, but initially you thought he was just a joker and that he liked to prank you because you were the new girl. 

It all became insufferable when you made the mistake of taking a second bottle of strawberry milk with you one day, and just when he had arrived next to you to steal yours, you took out the second milk and hand it to him. 

“What’s this?” he asked annoyed.

“Strawberry milk” you answered, your thick  Brazilian accent floating in the air. 

“I know it’s strawberry milk, what do you want me to do with it?”

“It’s for you” you said, your smile shining under the sunlight “You always take my milk, I guess I you like it, so I brought one for you” He stayed in silence for two minutes, just looking at you confused, why would you bring something to him when he has being awful with you?

“I’m ____, by the way, I’m new” you extended your hand to greet him formally, but he interrupted you again. 

“I know your name, I know you’re new” he said, not even bothering to hold your hand “Do you know who I am?” 

“No” and just when you were about to ask him his name, he opened the pink bottle and pour it above your head, your neat and clean uniform getting all spilled with pink milk and your hair wet and sticky. “Park Jimin, my father is the principal so don’t you forget that honey” and he left, the student’s eyes following you after you ran to the toilet to clean  yourself.

His attacks continued getting meaner and meaner each day, but ultimately he would always ask his gang to do something wrong to you while he would just watch. For an unknow reason, when he was with his gang his attacks were lighter, just him mocking you or insulting you, making you the laughingstock of the class, always pointing at how out of shape you were.

When his group of friends were alone, not a sight of Jimin around, that’s when they would get violent, throwing your body between them in a circle, pushing you, pulling your hair. Four days ago, one of his friends hit your head with a locker door and left you unconscious in the hallway, that’s why you were so insistent with the doctor to give you another day of inability due to your injury. 

You were getting tired and regretful of coming here in the first place. In your hometown, your country, you were the most popular girl of the school, everybody loved you and no one ever laughed at your body shape. Having curves was normal for them, but here… they seemed to hate it. You stopped eating because of that. 

“I can’t give you another day, you told me that you tripped over the stairs” that’s what you said, because if you tell the principal or any other teacher that his son and his friends were making your life a living hell they  wouldn’t do anything about it, you’ve tried, many times. You went with a teacher, and they seemed interested at first, but as soon as you dropped his name they froze and told you to go with the prefect. You went with the prefect, and when you told him it was Jimin the one bothering you he told you go with the school coordinator, and the list kept going.

No one ever did anything. 

“No one is helping! I’ve been with the discipline coordinator so many times and he keeps telling me to come back to you and make you pass the memo to the principal” you said  to the principal’s secretary. At this point, you knew they would never let him know what his son was up to, but you still held  hope that someone will pity you and stop this madness.

“Listen, I won’t be the one telling the principal that his son is committing harassment to another student, if he was a nice and fair man I would but if you think Jimin is despicable, his father is ten times worst” the secretary, who was clearly tired of you and her job in general, spitted in between her teeth “I suggest you to go yourself if you are brave enough, but one thing is sure, he won’t care, he never cares when it comes to his son” 

You swallowed nervously, trying to hide your fear and helplessness. 

On your way out of the office,  they found you. 

“Look who is here!” one of the boys said, his name was Chanwook and he was Jimin’s second hand. He was taller and skinnier, but that didn’t prevent him from throwing you to the walls and floor as strongly as he could. He was the one who hated you the most, just after Jimin himself, of course “Oh, no guys, she’s coming out of the principal’s office, she’s a sneak!” he faked preoccupation with a pout.

“Sneaky little bitch!” that was Meeyon, the alleged girlfriend of Jimin. And only alleged because Jimin himself never held  her hand, kissed her or acted sweetly towards her in public, actually he would ignore her whenever she started to act mellow with him with people around. But everybody knew he fucks her on a regular basis “You weren’t satisfied with being ugly but you’re also a snitch fat bitch” 

She grabbed you by the chin and held  your face close to hers “Jimin will know about this” 

“Jimin would throw her from the stairs” the sadistic voice of Chanwook sounded overly excited with the perspective of pushing you off the stairs and see how much it would take you to faint. You gasped because that sounded more like a Chanwook’s wish, Jimin never got physical with you, he just fucks with your mind and emotions. It wasn’t better, but still.

“I think Jimin would actually make her run in the court” Junghae suggested and made the other two laugh, “We should make her run until she can’t breathe” he said eating his sandwich carelessly. Junghae was the stupidest guy you’ve ever met, saying his dumbest thoughts out loud and pretending they weren’t mean at all. 

You felt the panic paralyzing your body, the fear and angst running and making you want to cry but holding it. You tried to walk past them, walking by the side to the main door, but Junghae grabbed you by the hand and pulled your arm back with them again, his hand hurting your wrist, making you  feel the blood accumulating where he was touching you. 

“Where do you think you’re going? It’s already 4 o’clock and we are not done with you…” the way his voice was always threatening made you shiver, his eyes always burnt with the deepest and purest type of hate; as if he for real wanted to see you lying on the floor lifeless. 

You tried to run away, but they chased you and Chanwook hit your head with the door locker and left you there when your body laid for five minutes unconscious. A person from the cleaning department found you and called the ambulance. 

They gave you a five-day inability, taking classes over the webcam and sending the home works via the email, it was paradise. You didn’t want it to end. 

“I need you to tell me if someone is bothering you, __” the doctor said again, but you shook your head nervously. 

“No, I’m fine. I-I just tripped” you didn’t sound convince and judging by the fear in your eyes he knew you weren’t.

“You know I work to a medical agency and not the school, right?” he mentioned, like wanting to clarify his job position to you “I go wherever my agency tells me to go, my superior is my hospital manager not the principal, I can report any harassment and bring the Ministry of Education if necessary.” 

“No, it’s okay, I-“

“__, is it Mr. Park’s son?”

Your silence was his answer, he was familiarized with his manias.

“I can call my supervisor but he’s on vacation, he will be back in two weeks, until then you can always come to the nursery room, I’ll hide you here” and finally let you go, feeling protected at last.

You went to the grocery store that afternoon, resign that you would come back to the school routine of wake up, sleep in class and get hurt, so you decided to treat yourself and eat some candies while watching a tv show on your laptop. There was a grocery store half a street near where your student’s residency building was, so you always went there to shop. 

You picked a regular black skirt, a white tank top and red converse. Your loved gummies, they were your favorite snack, so you picked three different flavors, cherry soda, pop corns, ice cream and chocolate bars. You let your full basket fell with the cashier but there was a little card that said: I went to the restroom; I’ll be back soon. 

You waited patiently there, taking your phone out to scroll a little when the bell on the front door rang and you didn’t turn around to see, your attention fixated on a video of a kitten playing with a rubber duck.

Jimin got into the store without any hopes of you being there, but in the months you’ve been in school with him he discovered where you lived and he figured you would usually buy your stuff here, since it was the closest grocery shop to your building. It was very far away from his house, he lived in a very nice area where all the houses where big, majestic, and empty. This neighborhood was economically different from his, but there he was. 

All the times he came here you were never present. Once or twice, he saw you coming out, making him regret not hurrying up enough to catch you inside for a minute or two. So when he enters the store this time, his hope is all gone, not really believing you would be there but holding to the routine; until he sees you. 

You were turning your back to him, your exquisite voluptuous figure bending over the checker waiting for the cashier to come back, your ass perked out and bouncing to the rhythm of the music coming out of your phone and your hair pulled on a messy hair bun. You had a red ribbon adorning your hair bun. He froze when he caught the nudity of your legs in that short skirt and images of your red converse stepping on him pleased him. 

He coughed his throat softly, trying to swallow and picked random shit from the store. He hurried because even when he wanted to make it seem casual, he wanted to talk to you. He opened the fridge and grabbed a can soda, chips and condoms. He drank your silhouette from behind before talking and ruining your day. Your legs were thick and soft, just the way legs should be. 

He remembered the day he saw them for the first time, it was on your first week after moving, you were using the EP uniform, but it was slightly different from the rest of the girl’s uniform. It was a short, and that was the regular uniform on your country, sports skirt or shorts. You were the only student showing off your legs and you seemed like it didn’t matter, running and jumping like nothing, and he wanted you for that. 

You had something he didn’t: confidence.

Actual confidence and not like his fake performance of being powerful and feared because of his position. Here you were nothing, nobody knew you or your family, and yet you were so free and powerful. Maybe that was why he felt the need to tear you down. 

“You’re not eating all that, are you?” he teased, and he felt proud when he saw your back arch in defense recognizing his voice without looking at him, your body language responding to the sound of his voice so quick. He reached the checker as well, and placed his stuff right next to you, watching the basket and the products “You eat for two, uh?” 

“And what if I do? that’s none of your business” you responded infuriated and he loved the way you would never back off, you would always put him in his place and were never afraid of talking back. He was the powerful  here, but you never let him walk over you, that was why he became addicted to bullying you so fast. 

“Actually, it is my business because as you know I'm president of the ecology club and this month's homework is to raise awareness about whales” and looked down your body, scanning you from your sun kissed skin to your boobs that were displaying over the tank top’s low neck. You thought he was judging you but the reality was that Jimin was memorizing, so he could use his imagination later. 

“And when are you going to raise awareness about the scarcity of your brain?” 

“When you tell for who all that food is” he spoke trying to control his laugh, he really loved your quick and smart answers, they made his day better. 

You doubt to say it, because he would mock in your face and call you a liar, but he already did that every day, so you happily responded him: “Believe it or not, I have a date.” 

His heart got numb. You couldn’t be having a date, why would anyone pick you for a date? Ever since the day you arrived, he marked you; bullying and harassing you was his way to let everybody know you were damaged merchandise. He isolated you through pranks and insults so everybody would know that if they made friends with you, they would face the same destiny. 

So, why would you be having a date now? 

“Who’s the loser?” he carelessly asked. 

“Why? You’re jealous?” you answered, praying for the cashier to hurry and charge you so you could leave. 

“You wish, I just pity them, sent him my condolences.” He sounded significantly mad, but you didn’t notice since he was always mad when you were around.  

“I will when you rest in peace.”

“Bitch.” He spitted. 

“Asshole.”

The cashier appeared, confused and astonished because on his way to his place he caught pieces of your conversation but he stayed quiet, not wanting to know what was going on between the two of you. 

“Little mouse!” he shouted before you leave the shop, and you hated how your body stopped on his way out as if it was your natural name “Will you go to school tomorrow? The day is boring when you’re not there.”

You rolled your eyes, not answering to his ridiculous question because he knew you were going to be there tomorrow. You hurried to your apartment, and when you prepared all the snacks in front of the couch’s table you noticed your red hair ribbon was missing. It probably fell inside the grocery store, you were about to go back  and ask if they had it but the sound of  a ring on the door pulled your attention and you forgot about it. 

“Taehyung!” you greeted happily, letting  him in. 

“I got you this…” he said shyly  after taking out a small gift package. It was a heart shaped hair pin and it was red, your favorite color. You wore it proudly and turned on the tv, ready to enjoy the comfort of his company. 

Taehyung was a good boy, very nice and kind. He was also a scholarship student, but he was from around, so he didn’t really have a problem blending in and being invisible. You met on your weekly sessions with the school psychologist to check on your process of adapt to the school. You would sit  next to each other, waiting for the psychologist to say your name or his and have your fifteen-minute chat. 

The first weeks he was very quiet, wearing his headphone and watching you from  the corner of his eyes but not talking. You started to feel he was into you when he smiled for a fraction of second when you appeared. One day you became bold and asked him what was he listening, he took his headphones off and put them on you. He was listening to jazz, fancy and old. 

Taehyung knew a little bit of what Jimin and his friends were doing to you because he has seen the bruises on your skin, but you didn’t want him to get involve since him and Jimin had the same age they shared most of the classes. 

“You can’t keep living like this, __” Tae said, seeing the new bruise Chanwook left on your left arm. 

“It’s nothing”

“If you want me I can make a police file, start an investigation” his dad was a police officer, so it made sense his savior complex was a heritage.

“Let’s not talk about that, let’s watch a movie” and both of you started to eat and relax, you even let him kiss you when the movie was over. Sweet and gentle, his hands were on  your cheeks and your cheeks only, like the gentleman he was. 

You forgot about the ribbon, but on the other side of the city Jimin tied it up to his wrist and hid it underneath his shirt sleeve, kissing it and touching it because he had something that belonged to you. It angered him how this was the closest he would ever get to you, if he wasn’t such an asshole and could be more like you, kind and trustworthy. 

The thing with Jimin was that he knew what was going on between you and him, and he wasn’t stupid. He knew that he wanted you, he craved you badly and everyday being far from you was harder and harder. But Jimin had issues, he never learnt how to be friendly, everything was handed to him easily and even his friendships were attached to him under a specific desire they wanted from him. His money, his connections, his power, sex. 

No one had ever been real to him, not even his own father, who ignored him and despised him ever since he could remember. Ever since his mother left the two and broke their family; the hate was mutual though. Jimin hated his father as much as his father hated him, it was fine, he had an entire school ready to lick his shoes. 

Until you came. So bright and sweet. 

You, with your generous curves and your red lipstick, red nails, and red converse. It was the perfect color for you because every time he pictured you, he saw you in red satin sheets. Red, the color of sex and violence. The color for passion and blood. He watched you from afar the first week after you arrived, and he noticed you were kind and open, gifting your smiles and your laughs to everyone who would look in your direction, but not him. You weren’t interested in him, mainly because no one had told you who he was or maybe you did knew and simply didn’t care. 

He found your presence insulting and likable. And if it wasn’t confusing enough already, you gifted him a strawberry milk bottle after he started to bother you, that got him off the waterline, destabilized him and made him sink. The reality of his horrible persona hit him like a truck, and to this new sensation of warmness and affability he responded with the only way he knew: hurting  you. 

Every day he saw your kind eyes lose their shine and become angrier, bitter. They would light up just when he showed up in front of you, with hate and resentment and for the first time in his life someone was looking at him with realness. He was the cause of a real emotion behind someone’s gaze, and he found that amazing. 

Why couldn’t he just say hello like a normal nineteen-year-old? No, the only way he could show you how much he wanted you was hurting you and haunting you, making sure you would never try to cross that line of goodness ever again with him, but also having you close enough he could consume your mind and your days, making him the only thing you could think of. Because the most similar thing to love was hate, and he wanted you to hate him with all your heart. 

You walked down the aisle, your eyes following the book’s spine, looking for the one you were needing for your essay. You previously had asked the librarian to add you to the waitlist for that specific book, since your school only had one copy of it and it was highly requested. According to the date, the book should be free for you now.

You knelt down to keep looking at the title when a noise pulls you out of your thoughts, the sound of two mouths crashing together and the clicks of tongues came to you from your left and before you could stop yourself you looked in that direction. There he was, the person you hated the most on this planet earth, kissing a blonde girl.

His hands were all over her body, he was facing the hallway and her back was all you could see of her. She had her hands on his black hair and his were moving up and down her thighs, and you recognized him just with one look at his hands. The same hands that would throw your books to the floor, the same hands that had push you and the same hands that pointed at you mockingly.

You didn’t want to see Park Jimin making out with someone, even when you found unbelievable he had the ability to feel something pleasing, you would have swear that man could only feel anger and bitterness inside him, but something about the way he was kissing her kept you interested. He opened his eyes, and without breaking the kiss, he smiled when he recognized you, eyeing you during the kiss.

You could tell his eyes shone with that devilish light of his, and his performance during the hook up got heavier. You collected yourself, remembering your task of finding the book and leave the hell out of there, but the book wasn’t there. There was an empty spot where it was supposed to be, and just when you were about to stand go with the librarian the monster spoke.

“Enjoying the show, little mouse?” his out of breath voice was raspy and profound, he was turn on.

“No, I came here looking for a book as the rest of the people here, this is a library not a motel” you pretend to keep searching even when you knew the book wasn’t there, just to not look at him.

“Oh, wouldn’t it be this book the one you want?” the irony leaking on his voice made you turn around and watch his hand wave a small book, it was indeed The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm.

“Give it to me!” you shouted almost forgetting you were in  a library and someone staring at you with disgust.

“Oh, you want this?” and he shove the book underneath his white buttoned shirt “Sorry, you will have to look for it” the blonde girl laughed at you and Jimin remembered she was there; it always pissed him off how he forgets about other women easily when you are near, it makes his blood burn. You shouldn’t have that much power and being unconscious about it. 

“Get out.” he said to the blonde one, and she widened  her eyes in  surprise “I said get out.” and he pushed her away, he didn’t even let her utter a word while  he was picking  her backpack from the floor and throwing  it to her. 

She ran out of the library and you followed her with your eyes until she disappeared because you were as confused as her; maybe Jimin was indeed a mentally unstable person, you had no other explanation for his abrupt mood swings. 

He stared at you in silence, fascinated with your legs showing off down the uniform skirt in your kneeled position. He walked towards you, grabbing your chin roughly with his fingers. 

"Didn't you wish it was you in  her place?" He speaks, his breathy voice crashing with your face and he smelled like cigarettes and coca-cola "Didn't you want to be praised by me instead of bullied?" 

"I'd rather be your victim than your friend, you're disgusting Jimin, I would do whatever it takes to free myself from you" you spat and before you could add how much you hated him because he grabs you by the neck and forces his mouth on  yours. You protest, your hands on his chest trying to push him away but he's bigger. 

"Whatever it takes, uh?" He repeated, his lips moving above yours, the tip of his nose touching your cupid's arch and his eyes fixated in yours, "so will you be my slave?" 

"You're sick" you responded, trying to push him away, but the harder you tried the strongest his hold was. "I can't believe there's people who genuinely like you"

"You make me sick, one glance at you and I want to throw up"

“Why did you kiss me then? Why don’t you leave me alone?”

“Because I love charity” he smiled, actually finding his own joke funny  "I'm making you a favor just by looking you right in the eye." 

"You are the one who's salivating every time you look at me, Jimin, I'm starting to feel you're in love with me" the voice of the two was starting to get loud, and neither of you noticed when the librarian appears in the hallway. 

"The two of you, I must pleat you to keep the sound low if necessary for you to keep talking, this is a library not the school yard, you can't be shouting in here" the librarian looked at the two of you with stress, and when she notices that it was Jimin himself, her face features softens. 

"Mrs. Chester, he has the book that I reserved for this week, and I need it to finish my essay, I reserved it last week" you defend yourself. 

"Mrs. Chester, I believe we can make an exception per se, and share the book since I need it as well, I'm pretty sure you will understand and any complain about this incident can be notified with my father" he spoke to her with that petulant tone he loved to use, and the old woman opened her eyes impressed at his subtle warning. 

"Miss ___ and I got the book issue covered" he continued. 

"Okay, I'll leave it to you then, keep the tone low" and she walked faster to her place again. 

"Give me the book" you said once again in between your teeth.

"You said 'whatever it takes' and we are about to see how far you're willing to go to set yourself free from me, meet me at the lab at four" and he picked his backpack from the floor and leave you in the library's hallway, scared and hesitant. 

Jimin’s pulse was out of control, on the outside he might seemed relax and nonchalant, as he usually was, but if you paid attention to him you could notice his right hand shaking with need. The same hand that grabbed your chin and pulled your neck closer to him. He was shaking nervously like a virgin, his body excited and hard with the pure action of connecting his lips together. 

The whole morning he kept looking at the clock, wishing the hands would point at four magically. When his last class was over, he picked his stuff ignoring his group of friends speak to him and rushed to the lab. 

You weren’t there, but he would give you time, a couple of minutes, a couple of hours, all the time you needed. He knew you wanted the book and that you also wouldn’t turn down a good fight with him. Hopefully he didn’t wait too long before you and your red aura appeared in front of him, stealing a smirk from his face. 

You hated when Jimin smiled, if God was on your side he would have made him ugly, but the heavens saw in you a victim as well and made him awfully pretty. 

“You came” he spitted trying to hide how happy he was. 

“You have the book, what else could I do?” and you dropped your backpack to the floor, sitting on the first seat of the lab. He was leaning on the teacher’s desk, standing. He stared at you for a while, that day you were wearing a red beret and cherry earrings; sometimes he hated himself for harming such a cute thing like you. 

“What do you want?” you asked exhausted under his scrutiny. 

“How was your date?” he asked, and you frowned confused, why would he be asking that? “You know, the date you told me you had yeste…”

“Yes, I know what date you’re talking about, but why would you ask about that?” 

“Because I want to know.” 

“Why?”

“I want to know who’s my little mouse’s new friend” there it was, the evil glint in  his eyes made its entrance and somehow you felt scared that he found out it was Taehyung. Jimin was volatile and extreme, and you regretted the idea of ever coming, he can keep  the book you could try to replace it with another one. 

“You know what? this is bullshit, you can keep the book” you bended to pick your backpack from the floor but he was faster and he took it away from you, you jump to him trying to reach his extended arm where he had your bag “Give me that! Give me my stuff!”

“Give me a kiss” his voice was raspy, and with every little jump you did his nose was flooded with your smell. Cherry blossom and lemon. 

“You’re sick, Jimin, I won’t give you shit”

“First of all, you already told me that and second, you already gave me that. I’m just asking for another” he laughed at your piss expression, so out of your boxes, so his. You tried to jump over him once more, but you tripped over the desk, falling above him. He catches you by grabbing you by the hips and when you hurried to get off him, he captures you left arm. 

You moaned in pain, the bruise in your forearm still new palpitated when Jimin hold you there and he notice something was wrong underneath the uniform’s shirt. He rolled up your shirt’s sleeve and saw the yellow and purple spot on your skin. It could have been that you fall off or tripped, but it had the shape of a hand. 

“What happened to you?” he asked, his amuse was gone and it was replace with… Concern? Anger? Great, you must be experiencing head trauma because you were starting to get delusional.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m starting to get tired of people asking me what happened when it’s obvious” you pulled your arm away from his hand, rolling your sleeve back. 

“You’re lying, tell me who did that” he demanded, and you laughed outraged, how dared he? 

“Who did this? You’re asking who did this?” He swallowed when he saw your tired and ironic face, a mix of bitterness and exhaustion that didn’t belong to your sweet features. “Your friends!” you shouted while pointing at him, shaming on him “Your gang of sadistic dogs did this to me! How dare you to ask me as if they don’t act according to your orders?”

“I never told them to hurt you” he stated and for the first time his voice wasn’t sarcastic or mocking, it was simply neutral and serious “I’ve never harmed you physically, I never told them to-“

“You don’t have to, Jimin, when you’re not around they chase me and torture me just because you hate me, the whole school knows it, even the teachers. It’s implicit that they hit me and push me because of you” you let it all out, shouting to him with all your strength, breathing heavily after you’re done and adding “So, if you have a little bit of human decency, you will not ask me obvious questions.”

“Was it Chanwook?” he gave you your backpack and you snatched it from his hands. 

Your silence was his answer. 

Chanwook’s nose bleed and splashed on Jimin’s uniform jacket. 

“Who asked you to hurt her like that?” Jimin shouted in  his ear, the parking where  he made his friend go was empty, no witnesses around.

“I thought- I thought you would find it funny” he said breathless, his hands trying to crawl away from Jimin’s fist, but the asphalt scraped his palms and Jimin’s expensive boot kicked him on the stomach, feeling his ribs crack.

“I checked her medical record, her five-day inability wasn’t because she fell, was it?” he grabbed Chanwook’s head by his hair, pulling it harshly like Chanwook himself had done many times with your hair.

“Is not a big deal, dude. You were the one who started it all, we just followed you.” 

“What did you do to her?” and Jimin’s foot connected again to his knee. 

“I- I pushed…” Chanwook couldn’t talk, the pain making him howl. 

“What did you do?!” Jimin shouted very close to his ear, losing his patience, his hand getting more intense on his hair.

“I pushed her head to a locker twice, I wanted to see how many times she could take it until she passed out.” 

Jimin saw red. The blood of his eyes expanding on his sight and his sadistic side came out. He pushed Chanwook’s head to his car door twice, but he didn’t pass out. 

“I like this game too, we are going to see how many time you can take it until you pass” Jimin hit his head three more times, but apparently the head of that scumbag was made of titanium cause when he dropped him,  the fucker could still walk. Slow and dizzy, but his shivering knees  made him stand up. 

“Why did you do it?” Jimin asked, lighting up a cigarette and taking off his jacket. He had his sleeves rolled up, and your red ribbon showed on his wrist making him smile “Why would you hurt her like that?” 

“For the same reason as you.” Chanwook answered and Jimin froze “Because I want her.” 

“You want her.” He repeated, the fury accumulating on his burning chest and his butchered knuckles. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Chanwook knew Jimin was pissed already, so if he was already fried, why wouldn’t he break it to him? He couldn’t hurt him more. 

“Sorry for being the one telling you, but your mouse he has a nice pair of legs, I like to harm her and then I go to jerk-“ Chanwook couldn’t end the sentence because Jimin was tackling him, pushing down to the floor again. His fist went down to his face repeatedly. When Jimin stood  after getting tired, he made sure Chanwook was still breathing. He was, unfortunately.

“It’s little mouse, idiot.” 

He called the police anonymously, saying there was a student being attacked on the parking lot. Jimin took out his belongings to make it seem like an assault and knelt before leaving the place to warn his friend. 

“You will leave the school, get transfer, drop out of high school I don’t care, but if I see you tomorrow morning there you will suffer. You will say people attacked you and stole from you, not a word of this. And if I see you near her, if you dare to talk to her, to breath in her direction, I will come for you just like I have done for everybody who ever disobeyed me, do you understand?”

Chan’s swollen face couldn’t articulate a word, Jimin rolled his eyes to the disgusting scene. 

“Blink if you heard me and understand.” 

Chan blinked, and Jimin stand, ready to walk to his car, murmuring to himself “Why do people mess with what is mine?” 

The reunion you had with Jimin a couple of days ago left you anxious and uneasy, especially because you haven’t seen Chanwook and the others haven’t mess with you. You walked down the hallway and got to your locker and when you unlocked the door you find a brand-new copy of The Art of Loving, a red gift bow and a card adorning the edition.

No God, please. Don’t let it be from Jimin. 

You opened the card and read on his unmatched calligraphy.

“ ‘Is love an art? Then it requires knowledge and effort’. I will put effort, little mouse, and show you how artistic I can be. Jimin.” 

You were disgusted with his silly words. Was this a prank? It must be, three days ago Jimin was making fun of you because the shirt was too tight to your breasts and he could see the line of your bra, his friends also pointing at the softness of your flesh. 

You didn’t need the book anyways, you bought it on E-book and your essay was almost finish so you threw  it in the garbage, pretending that incident didn’t happened and moving on to your next class. You were unaware that from the other side of the hallway, near to the cleaning closet Jimin was watching you. Confused and sad with the scene of you hating his gift.

Why did you throw it away? 

The rest of the week was awfully peaceful for you. There was no sign of Chan, and Meeyon and the other idiot stopped messing with you. When they would saw you in  the hallways or the yard, they would walk away as if you were infected with something dangerous and contagious. They would not even look in  your direction. You were afraid they were gathering strength to finally come for you and beat you really hard. 

Jimin on the other hand was losing his mind. He has been watching you from afar, and he notice that the shine you initially had was coming back to your eyes, and he wasn’t the reason for it. He followed you after classes for almost a week, and he didn’t see any  trace of this alleged date guy you told him. 

He was starting to think you invented it to make him mad, to catch his attention because you craved him as much as he craved you. He was about to leave the coffee shop where you were reading, when a guy appeared next to you and you stood up and greet him with a kiss. 

A kiss. The kiss you didn’t wanted to give to him. 

His jaw clenched and his fist gripped  his car’s wheel containing his anger. You were not lying, you had someone. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see who he  was, and then he gets a glimpse of his eyes and recognize  him, it was a shy boy that always sat at the end of the class, the last seat. What was his name? Taesoo? Taejoon? 

Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.

He watched the two of you a little longer, seeing how you were calm and sweet with him. Punching him in the arm playfully, laughing, covering your mouth when he said something funny, sharing a damn slice of cake.  Cherry cake.  

The next day he decided he would do what he did better. Intimidate you, extorting you.

He stood next to your locker, his backpack to the side and arms crossed on his chest. You appeared on the hallway with a strawberry scarf in your head and heart shaped earrings, a necklace matching your already annoying and stunning appearance.

“What do you want, Jimin?” you asked bothered with his only presence near you.

The truth with you was that you knew what was going on between you and him, his incessant tease, his subtle flirtation and his fixation with you. Deep down you prayed your intuition was wrong because if you could ignore his horrible personality and sadistic tendencies, you would be on your knees for Park Jimin.

Thankfully, you still were a reasonable and logic person, you could not ignore his flaws, and you truly felt disgust and resentment every time you saw him.

“I just wanted to check on my little mouse, how’s been your day?”

“It was all good, until you came and now it’s ruined” you responded, not even looking at him. You opened your locker and took your books out.

“Glad to hear that, no one has the right to ruin your day but me” he smiled discreetly “Has Meeyon and Junghae mess with you?”

You looked at him, briefly, surprised he was interested in your well-being.

“No, they haven’t, why?”

“Good.”

“Why?” you insisted “Did you tell them something?”

“I told them to stop, to not touch one strain of your hair” his eyes turned darker and narrowed, and your heartbeat raised to the perspective and the rare sensation of Jimin being… Protective?

“Thank you.” You couldn’t believe your words, thanking your abuser for doing the bare minimum, but not having those three around lifted a weight from your shoulders and made your days lighter “What happened with Chan...”

“You will not worry about him anymore; he got what he deserved.”

“What do you mean?” your voice shake anxiously.

“You won’t see him again.” Jimin smiled satisfied.

“What did you do to him?” you weren’t sorry for whatever happened to Chanwook, he was a despicable human being who liked and enjoyed pain from others, but you were not rejoicing on the fact he could have been harm because of you.

“Nothing he didn’t do to you. Don’t worry sweetheart, he got transferred, he will be fine” you didn’t like how Jimin’s voice was to mellow, as if you trusted on each other “Speaking of be fine, why don’t you come to my house this evening and work on your essay, I still have the book…”

“I can’t, I have plans already” you cut him, cursing your luck.

“With that Taehyung asshole?” he pushed closed your locker door, the sound of metal whipping down the hall, drawing attention.

“Who-?”

“I’ve done my research, all the people who are friends of my little mouse are also my friends.” His face was tainted with craziness and obsession, two things you evoked deeply in Jimin.

“Don’t hurt him.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth. “I won’t” he leaned closer to your mouth “I won’t, unless you don’t do something for me” his lowered chest voice was velvety against your ear skin “Meet me at the lab at four, don’t be late little mouse.”

✔︎ TAGLIST: @tae-v-eat @whipwhoops @bunnyca @itachiswaify @sheylamc @samuelfortniteking @rkivewritersblog @mred435 @kthyg @jiminiemochisexybabe (my first taglist, i'm so excited 🤩)

✔︎ thvlouvre's p.s. you may already know this, but english isn't my first language, so be kind and understand, take care and stream Park Jimin 💋

Treasure✧yandere!dragon!pjm

Jimin loves to collect sparkly riches and playthings. You just happen to be the next treasure that ignited his obsessive desires.

Type: Faerie dragon hybrid ✦18+  ✦xtremity; 6 ✦pairing: Faerie dragonhybrid Jimin x female reader ✦genre: pwp smut, hybrid, yandere, fairy tale ✦word count: 4.7k ✦warnings: light stalking, he calls you treasure a lot hah, possessive/obsessive behavior, dubcon, profanity, smut, you guys begged for big dragon dick here you go, mouth fucking, cum feeding, jimin licks your panties lmao, Torrential downpour of cum(thanks chim), his cock bulges your stomach?, rough fucking, degdrading dirtytalk, impreg kink, fluffy ending if you squint.

A/N: idk what the fuck this is, the plot is made up for the sake of smut and I just wanted to get some good dick in. I hope you enjoy, please praise me if you liked it, I worked hard on this. xoxo Also big thank you to my lovely @carly-bean-blog​ for making this gorgeous banner edit of my faerie jimin, ily <3

Keep reading

My heart is soft. I live for sub koo and i live for this fic. I love everything about this fic; i can’t put my feelings into words TT. Koo might be (a bit) of an arsehole but i understand him </3. Also this may be bcs of MC’s role as the top/dom but I loved it when she decided to confront koo bcs if it was me i wouldn’t. I love their dynamic too :(( They were literally made for each other <3

STAY | jjk

Jeon Jungkook, the campus biggest jerk, is at your door begging for your merciful help. Not in person, though – no, he’d never dare. It’s your friend Ari, asking you to help her boyfriend’s friend by taking him in and letting him rent your flat’s spare room after being kicked out of his.

Word count: 155k

Warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, swearing, depression.

# jock!Jungkook, ex queen bee!noona reader, college AU, enemies to lovers, roommates AU, side Jimin x OC, fake dating, pining, bets, slow burn, forced proximity.

Read this story listening to its own Spotify playlist.

INDEX

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

“STAY” is copyright ²⁰²² Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

LETSGOOO Y’ALL BETTER READ HER FIRST EVER FIC. Taehyung IS hawt in this 😮‍💨

—Twisted Alliance

Pairing: Taehyung x reader.

Genre: enemies with benefits au, assassin au, smut.

Warning: mentions of knife, knife play, nipple play, tiny bit mention of blood, oral sex (f receiving), dacryphilia if you squint, sex on car’s bonnet.

Word count: 6k+

♫: Drive you insane- Daniel Di Angelo, Fetish- Selena Gomez, Yad- Vanna Rainelle (English cover), Or nah- Somo.

AN: It took me a long arse time to write this, like way too long but I’m kinda satisfied with the outcome so whatever. Also, thanks to @kthyg for proofreading and helping me out as always, I can’t thank you enough <33 Let me know your thoughts on this.

The car gradually comes to a stop. The roaring engine suddenly went quiet, which gave way to the voice of the men sitting beside you in the driver’s seat. 

“Are you sure he’ll be there? You know Boss will flip if you go back with nothing to show.” Woozi glances shortly at you before moving his eyes back to the red light. The seconds shown above are going slower than your heart’s thump.

46..

Thump

Thump

Thump

45..

Thump 

Thump

44..

Thump

Thump

Thump

Thump

‘Are you sure?’ Are you? Are you sure he’ll be there? Yes.

Are you sure you’ll meet him? Yes.

Are you sure you’ll go back with nothing to show?

Yes.

You feel your partner glancing back at you, surely analysing you. Your silence, your hands, even your damn sweat. Why is there sweat? Where is it going? Why there and not here? Because that’s what he always does. Always analysing, always on alert. At least since you joined this branch.

You put your hands on your lap, one on another, and raise your gaze. Looking straight ahead, you respond to him, “He’ll be there.” He stops drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. That piqued his interest. “And you don’t have to worry about answering to your boss, Woozi. I’ll deal with that.”

“Worry? I’m merely giving you a heads up,” his gaze falls on your hands that are resting on your lap prettily before he directs his eyes back to straight “Boss went through hell of troubles to get through you, to make you move in this branch for this special task. If you fail, he’ll be disappointed.” 

You look at his side profile. All the other car’s lights illuminate his face, sharpening and highlighting his features.

Every now and then, you wonder how he can be over the age of 35.

Woozi is your senior. You have known him since training days as you trained under him. Since you were recruited and placed in different branches, this is the second time you both have talked to each other. First was when you were moved to this branch for a specific task which involved working with him as you both have a past. Per the boss' words, achieving success would become effortless if everyone collaborates. 

He can be intimidating and intense sporadically; however, he’s unparalleled in every endeavour he undertakes. It’s almost admirable how he trained you and a few others while he himself was under training.

“I’ll be disappointed, darling,” he feigns sadness before putting on a smirk. 

Just when you open your mouth to respond, the lights turn green, and the unsettling silence fills up with the roaring of the engine. The car rumbles, and you watch as his left hand shifts the gear to 7, and the car tears through the traffic.

Bastard.

You get out of the car, and Woozi follows to stand beside you, entering the venue together.

The opulence and grandeur are simply breathtaking. The space stretches out before you, with high ceilings adorned with exquisite chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow. The vastness of the venue is overwhelming in itself.

In this realm of luxury, you spot many prestigious people, each one exuding an air of importance and accomplishment. Everyone is engaged in captivating conversations, their laughter and animated gestures resonating through the halls.

From the luxurious furnishings to the exquisite floral arrangements, no expense has been spared in creating an atmosphere of pure grandeur.

“Money speaks, right?” 

The sudden appearance of a faceless voice jolts you to the very essence of your being. When you potently move your gaze from the dripping luxury, the ‘faceless’ voice gets a face, and that, too, is an unpleasing one.

Woozi.

“So, what are you dreaming about?” He delicately swirled his whiskey glass, watching the amber liquid and ice gently spin within. 

Your head tilts in confusion at his question. His questions, remarks, and even words compel your mind to race before speaking. “Dreaming? I was barely admiring.”

“Oh, my bad then, darling.” He leans in. “I thought we were here to look for him and not to admire someone’s stupidity. I dare say, your eyes must have seen more captivating sights than this mere offering.”

He raises his glass and tilts it in your direction before retreating to some corner, mingling in with others. Engaging in casual conversations, even you were contemplating whether he shared a childhood bond or familial ties with any of them. 

Is he even familiar with any of those faces?

You don’t realise how long your stare is pinned on Woozi’s figure until he throws a two-finger salute at you. Your eyes take pleasure in moving them away from his form.

His mere presence can sometimes be infuriating.

However, Woozi isn’t and shouldn’t be the topic of your concerns. You are aware enough to refrain from simply standing like a mere statue, put on display for everyone’s curious gaze. 

As you walk through these elegant surroundings, your eyes scan for your target. The air is filled with murmurs and clinking of glasses, blending harmoniously with the soft melodies played by the live band. Amidst the sea of well-dressed guests, your eyes dart from one face to another, searching for the familiar features that will identify your target.

He is supposed to arrive here even before you. 

“Searching for someone, sweetheart?”

That. That voice.

You had to still yourself by clutching onto the chair that was flushed with velvet. 

Everyone seems to find delight in appearing in front of you from thin air.

His deep oceanic voice reaches you before his hand lightly brushes against your back, and your body suddenly tenses up as if it decided to handle all the world’s stress. Your lungs suddenly need all the oxygen surrounding you. 

His hand is cold in contrast to your body’s burning state. Calm to your chaos? Na-ah.

Ice to your damn burn, and it stings.

You count your breathing before facing him. 1….2…..3…

His long messy hair, always hiding his forehead from everyone as if it’s some princess that is always behind the curtains, they’re now slicked back and styled to perfection. His features look sharper under all the lightning; his jawline is defined. He has a muscular frame, boasting broad shoulders and a trim waistline, all hidden under his black T-shirt. On top of this, he is carrying a leather jacket of a colour similar to wood. 

His eyes, those captivating eyes, are enhanced with glasses, so damn alluring that you had to drag your gaze lower on the mole on his nose and under his lower lip, too – to not get pulled into his hypnotising eyes.

That mocking smile has been lingering on his face since you have known him. Haunting you whenever you meet, whenever he fucks yo—

You don’t even realise for how long you have been focused on his face —specifically, his lips, but let’s keep that hidden— until his smile widens and one eyebrow raises. Did he ask something? What could he even possibly talk about right now? Where is Woozi? Is he watching you talking– no, admiring Taehyung—

“Is my face that interesting? Why don’t you tell me what’s so interesting for you to go deaf so suddenly? Is it my eyes? My smile? Maybe my lip—”

“Do you ever shut up, Kim? You seem to have quite a fondness for self-flattery.”

His eyes pierce into yours from behind those glasses before he flashes a grin, “Oh, she speaks.” 

“I’d prefer not to and the offer only stands for you.”

“Ah, I knew I could count on you for the special treatment. You’re always so sweet for me.” He has his hands over his chest, clearly mocking you, and your face feels on fire because you’re aware of what he’s implying by the sweet.

Well, fuck him. 

If Woozi notices you talking with this fucker then you’re done for. Unlike you, he believes in finishing business as quickly as possible, especially when you have the target right in your hands. However, that’s precisely the point, this guy in front of you is anywhere but in your hands.

He takes two glasses from a passing waiter, and you assume they contain negronis, one for each of you. Swirling his glass gently, he cock his head to the side and darts a glance to his left hand, offering you the glass and then shifting his gaze to your stagnant form. 

After a few seconds of pondering, you decide that drinking one glass won’t pose a risk. Besides, a small amount of alcohol will only reward you with some additional confidence, and you will be delighted to acquire as much as possible.

However, it seems like the heavenly being is displeased with you because you can see Woozi’s side profile from here. He is merely 10 feet away from you, engaged in a conversation for heaven knows how long, yet still manages to throw daggers at you. 

Your fucking luck.

You focus back on the man before you; however, his eyes are narrowed on Woozi for some reason. 

Even in their training days together, Taehyung despised Woozi. You three were together at the time of training, where you and Taehyung were being trained under Woozi. He always put up a rebellion against the old man. His rebellious nature manifested in the form of defiance against Woozi’s authority.

There is one specific instance that stands out vividly in your mind.

On a scorching summer day, you were engaged in an intense outdoor training session as Woozi carefully explained the objectives. As the session commenced, Woozi offered guidance and support; however, Taehyung’s face was contorted with disdain. In a pivotal moment, when Woozi approached you closely to demonstrate a specific technique where he was standing right behind you, adjusting your posture, Taehyung’s simmering frustration erupted. Jaw clenched, he intentionally defied Woozi’s instructions, purposefully deviating from the assigned course. However, unfazed by Taehyung’s eruptions, Woozi continued to mentor you.

They were a complete fiasco.

Fortunately, you all three are placed under different organisations.

Unfortunately, all three organisations are in a strained relationship with each other.

Upon clearing your throat, his head turns back to you, he directs a narrowed gaze towards you, followed by firmly setting his jaw, but then he abruptly breaks into a wide grin. You find yourself in a state of bewilderment, grappling with unanswered questions.

“Well, that’s some interesting news, sweetheart.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips before he continues, “Never knew you were into Woozi. Are old guys a thing for you now? I mean, it’s understandable considering their experi—”

“You better think twice before finishing that sentence,” you seethe, and before he can respond to your warning, you grip his left wrist that was holding his drink and drag him away from there, away from any little chance of Woozi taking notice.

To say that he was not startled would be an understatement of the highest degree. But then he abruptly halted, pulling you back with him a little.

You turn your gaze towards him, “What? We are yet to get away from the crowd. Why did you pause so unexpectedly?”

He opens his mouth a little, closes it and then his tongue comes out to wet his lips before he begins again, “Oh, excuse me, sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting that.” He moves his stare from your face to your hand, gripping his wrist to his hand, holding his own drink to his T-shirt, which is a tad bit drenched in Negroni now.

Okay, maybe not only a bit.

As you loosen your grip on his wrist, he drops the glass he was holding and extends his hand towards you. His voice drops an octave, “However, don’t let me be of any interruption to you, please carry on.” 

This fucker is clearly enjoying the whole show you’re putting on.

There’s a part of you that wants Woozi to notice you, that wants to put an end to this long-awaited unfinished business. But the other part, a part you’re reluctant to admit, isn’t in favour of putting a full stop to this strange rivalry which, more than half, is filled with desires.

“If I let you become my interruption ever, then do me a favour and hit me.” You glance at him before continuing to drag him away, “Oh, and do it hard, cause I must be out of my rational mind.”

You can’t see his face, but you hear his laugh, and for a few seconds, that’s all your mind is processing. 

You despise how he fucking affects you, how he always gets you in whichever way he prefers.

“I love your sense of humour, sweetheart. Ever thought of being a stand-up comedian? I can see you thriving in that career.”

“I can see you failing in shutting up.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that? You can’t possibly chat alone unless you’re into that.”

You’re still walking— speed walking, and you’re not surprised to find yourself struggling alone, even when you’re the one dragging him. He’s just behind you, appearing to be on a damn morning walk. 

“We can talk all you want when we’re ou—”

“Ah, there you are, darling.”

Woozi. 

He’s right in front of you, his hands inside his pants’ pockets as his eyes fixate on you before moving them to your hand holding Taehyung’s. Narrowing his eyes for just a second, he shifts them back to you, and you can say with guarantee that he’s noting this down in his mansion like a brain. 

At this point, he probably has a separate room— no, a hall, for things he noted down about you.

Nothing about him gives him away. Truthfully, you prefer it that way. However, you just hope he doesn't suspect anything. He might be wondering why you are in hands with Taehyung. Hell, even you’re wondering that. You could’ve simply asked him to walk with you.

As if he would follow you like a puppy. Who are you kidding?

You hear Taehyung clear his throat, making you break the absent-minded eye contact with Woozi, and you’re so thankful for that. You might just spew those two sentences to Kim, but you remind yourself that you're still sane enough to shut your mouth.

“Well, well, look who decided to grace us with their presence after so long.” Woozi gives a sarcastic smile in Taehyung’s direction, and you think  so long for you Woozi, “Good to see you again, Kim.”

Woozi just stands there, a wry smile hanging on his lips as his eyes pin themselves on the man standing behind you. And just like that, even with all the commotion around you, music blasting from speakers all around, people engaged in loud conversations, a strange silence takes its place among you three. For a long while, there is no exchange of words, not from the mouth at least. However, their gazes are engaged in a long-awaited conversation.

You’re suddenly so unbelievably uncomfortable; you’d rather see them brawl with each other than this restless silence. 

To your surprise, Taehyung pulls you back towards him, and you would have crashed into his chest if it wasn’t for his hold on you. 

Fuck these men and your heels.

“Can’t promise I feel mutual. We were just about to head somewhere.” 

“Always a polite talker,” Woozi’s tone is dipped in cynicism. Then he shifts his stare on you, and his sudden change of expressions takes you aback. “May I know where you are heading to, Y/N?” 

Woozi used your name.

You shake your head a little to come back to your senses, “Just ou—”

“Actually, no. You may not know. And I’ll appreciate it if you move out of our way.” Taehyung interrupts.

You wonder what’s wrong with Taehyung so suddenly, but then again, he’s always on edge. Always gets irritated in a short span of time, especially if it’s Woozi; his patience is walking on a thin line.

But then you’re knocked out of the air your lungs are carrying when he hooks his fingers inside the back of the dress. The dress itself is backless. Your back is exposed to your waist already, and now his two fingers are nestled inside your dress.

His fingers inside your dress, his fingers touching your waist, he is touching you.

You see Woozi saying something. You watch his mouth opening and closing and his eyes narrowing at you, but Taehyung’s fingers are touching your waist and oh lord—

A wince makes its way out of your mouth, and that’s when you comprehend that Taehyung fucking pinches you. Hard.

You twist your head swiftly to the back, and he leans in at the same time. Your brain is so foggy at the moment that for a minute, you fail to remember that Woozi is just right there. It’s all because Taehyung is so close to you. Because he has his fingers hooked inside your dress. Because your back is glued to his chest. Because his musk and vetiver scent is the only thing you can breathe in suddenly.

Because it’s Taehyung.

“You’re letting my interruptions distract you, sweetheart.” he whispers, and his warm breath burns the back of your neck; you’re afraid it might leave a scar. “Focus.” 

“Y/N? I asked you something unless you have gone deaf.” Woozi’s stern voice kicks you back to your senses, giving you a harsh reminder that you’re not alone.

Why do you want yourself to be alone with him?

“I’ll be with you in a while Woozi, and besides, you are not babysitting me.”

You watch as Woozi watches you for a few seconds and then opens his mouth to retort, but Taehyung beats him to it, “Well, you heard the lady. See you never again.”

With that being said, Taehyung pushes you forward, and you’re suddenly overcome by the urge to stab his toe’s pinky with your heels. However, you just elbow him lightly, creating a little distance between both of you. Thank you, heavenly beings. You glance back to Woozi as you keep walking, only to find him still standing on his spot. Only now, he’s watching you or, more precisely, shooting daggers at you, and you’re sure one of them will hit you. He raises one eyebrow, and you just blink your eyes at him with a nod before you exit the room completely.

As Taehyung and you continue down the corridor, you glance at his face, and you’d be lying if you said you’re surprised. You can sense the seething anger within him.

However, it’s not your concern. You’ve never quite understood what his issue with Woozi has been all along. Although why is he fuming?

He takes a sharp turn to the right, and you’re promptly reminded that now, you are following him. 

“Where are you heading to?” You speed-walk and try to catch up with his steps as he continues walking, except now, it seems like he increased his speed. Assuming that you’re just struggling would be an insult to you. He takes long strides towards, what you’re assuming, is the exit of the venue.

“Out of here.” He says it with gritted teeth without even casting a glance at you as if he’s talking on some earpiece. Your steps slow down, and he pauses so abruptly in his track; without turning his head, he just stares you down his shoulder before speaking assertively, “And you are following me. Do not even entertain the idea of going back inside.”

What got his knickers in a twist?

Then he exits the venue with you hot on his heels. “What has gotten into you? The fuck are you so mad about?”

You stare at his broad back, and for a few seconds, he stays still before turning around to face you, and you’re going through every possible way you can make him turn back. His one eyebrow is raised mockingly, and his glasses just highlight his glare that is so intense, you might as well look away, but then his lips are twisted into a scowl. A scoff leaves his lips, and everything about him compels you to meditate your mind about whether you asked something stupid.

“I find it hard to believe that you actually came here with him, with Woozi out of all the people there.”

You can’t fucking believe him right now.

“Tell me you aren’t fucking serious cause you’re being unreasonably ridiculous right now.” He’s so damn out of it. “You are showing a significant degree of stupidity.”

You watch as his eyes narrow on you before he starts to close the distance. “Oh, is that so? Am I the one who is being ridiculous here?” He stands in front of you, towering over your figure. “Or maybe you take me as a foolish person.”

“Maybe you’re one,” you cross your arms before clearing your throat. Arguing with him is similar to talking to a wall, “If you’re going to argue with me over some nonsense then I’m going back inside. Maybe you don’t care but time is of essence.”

“You could’ve just mentioned about Woozi last night when you texted or were you that distracted, hm? Who knows where you were when you texted me.”

Your head whips back just when you have taken one step to walk away. You’re suddenly so aware of the small, slender dagger that is fastened to your thigh, it’s burning on your skin, or perhaps your skin is on fire.

When you speak, you feel your words coming out laced with venom, “Perhaps I was with Woozi. Perhaps we were doing something disgraceful.” You clenched your teeth with such force, “You have no authority to make assumptions about me. I will not answer you, and I have no obligation to disclose my whereabouts or provide details. We are not even toge—”

It takes you a few minutes to process what happened. In a sudden, shocking move, Taehyung grabs your neck, his fingers digging into your skin, while swiftly propelling you back towards the wall. As his grip tightens around your neck, a surge of conflicting emotions rushes through you. The fear remains, but there’s also an undeniable undercurrent of something else— desire.

His face comes closer to yours, and the foggy cloud of desire falters for a minute before his low and deep voice reaches you, “Let’s see who will you answer to then, hm? Because in the end, it always turns out to be me. You always answer to me and always beneath me.” The foggy cloud returns, almost blinding you.

In a sudden and unexpected move, he bridges the gap between both of you, his lips crashing onto yours with a fierce intensity. The shock of the gesture sends a jolt of conflicting emotions coursing through you. 

He pushes his tongue inside before pulling back slightly; however, he sinks his teeth into your lower lip with brutal force. As the sick, twisted part of your mind revels in the pleasure, it disregards the relentless screams of your instincts, urging you to resist and push him away. With a renewed intensity, he forcefully presses his lips against yours once more, swallowing your gasps and suppressing your winces.

Your body goes rigid as his other hand reaches behind you, playing with the strings and so dangerously close to opening the knot that’s holding your dress altogether. His hand trails down your backbone before he pushes it further down, and just like that, his hand slips inside the back of your dress, grabbing your arse before he squeezes the flesh harshly, digging his fingernails.

“Ah! Fuck—” A muffled moan slips past your lips which makes you pull away harshly, a string of saliva lingering between both of you. You take in as much air as you can before he invades your personal space again.

Your breaths come out harshly as you struggle to function effectively. The realisation of his hands still on your neck comes back to you, and you are weak in your knees that you might fall to the ground if he were to retrieve his hand back. His fervent breath hits your jawline before he harshly bites down your cheek, causing you to wince loudly at the pain.

 He dips his head near your ear before his rich voice reaches you, “Don’t make me lose my already low morals, sweetheart.” Then your senses come back to life when you feel a cold sensation on your neck. Your knife is pressed against your throat, near enough to make a cut if you are to move even a single inch. Yet you’re an utter goner in his hold; your mind is nothing but a foggy haze of desires, all awakened by this man. You are aware of the risk this situation brings you both, but are you aware enough to give any fucks? He has your knife at your throat. He is dangerously close to your body, and then he drags the knife to your collarbone, his eyes fixed on yours and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

His head dips, and he bites harshly on your collarbone as the knife remains there, pressing into your skin. He then licks a long stripe over your collarbone, and your whole body runs cold. It’s too much for you to take, too much to comprehend and make sense of. You can think of nothing unless it involves him, with you, in every bad way. 

You feel him pushing his knee between your legs, and you’re forced to open them for him. His jeans come in contact with your aching core before he presses his knee harder, eliciting a gasp of pleasure past your lips. 

“Taehyung…” His name comes out in a breathy whisper. Your eyes momentarily close before you feel the knife pressing on your cheekbone, his eyes glinting with lust so obviously. The knife provides the cooling sensation to your body that seems to be on a fucking stove. You glance at the small sharp object in his hand before taking a shaky breath, “It’ll leave a scar if you…” The words are trapped in your mouth as his lips find their favourite spot behind your ear before he drags his tongue down to your neckline and breathes in harshly.

Oh, lord.

“I wonder why you had it with you in the first place. Surely not for me, right, sweetheart? You wouldn’t do that to someone whose name you worship every other night now, or will you? Hm?” 

“Woozi… Fuck—” his mouth keeps on assaulting your neck and exposed chest, the intensity rising at the mention of woozi, “He gave it to me.”

His eyes bore into yours for a few seconds before he stopped all his moments abruptly and created enough distance between yours and his upper body so that you could finally breathe and see something else that was not him. He tilts his head, puts the knife under your chin within striking distance of your neck, and moves it upward, mandating you look up into his eyes. 

“Let’s put your knife to the test then and see if it lives up to its reputation.” 

“Fuck, Taehy—ah!” a quivering moan makes its way out of your lips as you struggle to keep yourself balanced on his car’s bonnet. Your hands are entangled in his hair, and he digs his fingertips into your thighs each time you pull on his roots.

His premium Ford Mustang Fastback is probably groaning beneath you. He has you sprawled on his Mustang’s bonnet, his hands holding your thighs up, and he works his mouth on your pussy. His tongue teases your clit before he nibbles on it with the right amount of pressure. Your grip tightens on his hair as your eyes close in pure ecstasy. Your brain melted to a putty as the overwhelming pleasure washes over you. 

A silent cry leaves your lips in an ‘o’ shape when his tongue keeps abusing your sweet spot, not giving you any time to comprehend. Then he pushes two fingers in at once, and you break. He ruins you in unspeakable ways. His fingers plunge in and out of you at a rapid pace, several profanities leaving your mouth as he pays no heed to you. You attempt to close your legs when he takes a few long stripes on your weeping pussy and flattens his tongue on it. Your body jolts upwards, and your breath hitches for over a few seconds.

“Ah– Taehyung… Please…” You feel your throat drying up, an intense cry of pleasure falling from your lips. Your eyes are adorned with fat tears because of the immense pleasure and overstimulation, because of his tactics, because of his fingers grazing your walls and reaching your sweet spot over and over again because he’s digging his fingertips in your flesh harshly as he swirls his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves before pulling away with a pop. 

“Jesus, you’re a fucking meal for a starving man.'' His words ring in your ears, clearing the carnal haze for a moment before a sob breaks out in the air.

“Oh my fucking god…”

“Calling for me, sweetheart?” 

 Your scream reverberates in the parking lot before reaching back to your ears; god, it’s humiliating. The whole scene is obscene in itself. His fingers curl inside you twice and thrice before you break, yet again. Your legs quiver as the sudden rush of your heightened pleasure threatens you to break free, and God, you’re so close, so damn close. 

“Let go for me, baby.” 

And you do.

“Fucking— gah—” your screech travels to his ears, and he gives out a devilish grin before devouring you again. His tongue is lapping up twice more rapidly than before, your whole body drained of any energy, yet you aim to push his head away. Your whole body twitches when he stands up from a kneeling position, your lungs halting their functioning at the scene in front of you.

His hair appears dishevelled, his fingers dripping in your essence, and his lips are painted with your slickness. With that wicked smirk, he looks enchantingly debonair, so damn alluring and captivating. 

“You ruined my Mustang’s bonnet, sweetheart,” he says whimsically before he cruelly grabs your jaw, coercing you to open your mouth. Then he plunges his slender fingers inside, resting them on your tongue as you close your mouth around them, trapping them inside. Your tongue circling around his fingers as a strange taste explodes in your mouth. “But aren’t you the sweetest ever?” his voice returns, and your face sets on fire. 

You feel overwhelmingly degraded.

He pulls his fingers out, and for a moment, your focus is on his fingers, covered in your saliva. Since when did you start to take pleasure in having his fingers down your throat? Probably from this instant.

His hand reaches out to you, pulling only your upper body so abruptly that you see black spots for a brief moment. You’re yet to return to your senses, but you’re too far gone for that. You’re face to face with his crotch, and you’ve never been more tempted than now to put your hands on something. His bulge is so prominent under his jeans. Several questions run through your mind; however, one stands out the most:

Will you be able to take him? To handle him?

And the answer? Yes.

Because you always do.

Your shaky hands come up to rest themselves on his belt, and you can sense his eyes following your every action. You dare to look up in his intense stare, and Lord fuck him if you aren’t the most exquisite site ever to him. The fiery innocence staring up at him from that angle flares a carnal desire inside him. How the fuck can someone be so hauntingly enchanting? 

He’s so ruined, all by you.

If you were to ever use that knife on him, it’s safe to say he’d have gladly presented himself to you.

You pull at his jeans’ waistband, and all hell breaks loose. He grips your wrists, halting your actions, and a gasp slips past your lips before he crashes his lips on yours in a so fucking animalistic way. His other hand reaches behind your back, his cold fingers rigorously opening your knot, and the front of the dress falls, putting a show of your bare tits, your nipples so perky and begging him for torture. He’s twisted like that.

“Kim— shit!” He abruptly pulls away before trailing his hot tongue down to your buds, one hand coming up to twist and pinch the other bud. Your back arches as he pushes you back on the bonnet. His warm tongue moves in circles around your areola before he grazes your bud with his teeth, a sharp cry breaking out from you. He moves his mouth to the other bud before nibbling on it, sucking on it, doing all sorts of torture one can imagine. Tears cascade down your eyes, trailing down your cheeks. But gosh, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? A feast for a man’s fantasies? Specifically Taehyung’s.

Your hands reach down between your bodies, your nails grazing his bulge, and Oh, the fucking impatience eating you up.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart. The ecstasy that you got me in, no words can ever be enough to praise you.” his words leave you on the edge of passing out, “Such a fucking captivating thing. Go ahead, baby.” His throaty whisper in your ear falters your movement for a swift span before you haphazardly open his belt, your hands working quicker than when you pull the trigger in the practice room. You unzip his jeans, pushing his jeans and Calvin Klein boxer down, and my god, the veins make you breathless. 

You watch as he strokes his girth before he comes closer to your face, pushing his fingers back in your mouth, almost choking you. Your hands twitch to reach up and touch him, but you know better than that, especially when you see your knife in his hand, twirling it before he puts it on your nipple. The cold sensation knocks the air out of you, and you suck in oxygen harshly. He then puts the knife's sharp point near your bud, holding the knife in a standing position, and a resounding scream reverberates inside you. 

The scream breaks free when his firm hand lands on your pussy, slapping thrice. Unfortunately, you don’t have the bliss to move or thrash unless you want blood all over your chest. 

Jesus, he’s so deranged.

“You will stay still for me, right? Unless you are into blood play, then, I’d ravel in making your fantasy come true.” He's so sick, so so sick.

A silent gasp pushes past your lips when he strokes his cock on your folds, slathering it up in your slick. He circles your areola with the dagger and thrust inside with powerful force, bottoming out in one go. Your jaw falls open, but no sound can be heard except for his guttural groan. God, he sounds heavenly. You feel so lightheaded, so full, as you keep coming back and forth out of consciousness. He’s so deep inside you reaching spots you were unaware of could produce such pleasure.

“Fuck, fucking bliss.” You hear him curse out before he pulls out entirely, and you feel like crying because of how empty you feel. 

So brain-rotted.

Your body goes rigid when he thrusts back with more force than before, your hands trying to grab onto something so desperately, yet they stay empty, yearning to touch him. As he gains momentum, his moans and groans push you past your limit, squelching wet noises filling your senses as your oversensitive pussy pleads at his mercy.

Taehyung groans out as he increases his pace, all ferocious with his thrusts as his other hand comes up to pinch your nipples, and a scream rips out of you.

“Fuck Taehyung! Please…” 

“Yeah? Feels good? ‘cause I’m in fucking heaven, fuck—” 

You are willing to do everything if you have the opportunity to hear him like this on a daily basis. His thrusts falter when you clench your pussy around him, and his hand delivers a forceful slap to your tits, a hiss falling from your lips. Your anguished wails and inconsolable sobs are met with apathetic disregard.

He drags the knife down to your belly before pressing into it, and a sharp pain explodes, taking over your senses before he discards the knife into some corner and pushes a hand on the subtle fresh cut he made. Pressing on it, he delves into ever-increasing depths with each successive thrust. Your coil of pleasure teeters with a formidable desire for liberation on being pressed by his hand. Several ‘fucks’ and ‘ah-s’ falling free from both of you.

His hand reaches up to twirl your nipple one last time before his movements become faster and more erratic as he pounds into you with increasing ferocity. His thrusts go deep and hard, hitting all the right spots inside you as you babble out unintelligible words. Your peak heightens as time swiftly passes. His hand moves between your legs, rubbing on your clit until you scream out in ecstasy. 

A sensation of relief washes over you, and he follows soon after, grunting out your name before he spills his seeds inside you, filling you up, and oh my god, you feel so full, so fucking filled to the brink. 

“Fucking shit,” his deep raspy voice reaches to you as your eyes threaten to close, your consciousness walking out of the parking lot, but then a whimper mixed with a hiss makes its way out of your spent form when he pinches and slaps your pussy. 

“Stop— please.” You observe as his eyes gleam with primal lust before he descends upon your lips with force, fiercely biting and teasing until you reciprocate, resulting in the exchange of crimson essence. He pulls away, and a piercing whistle echoes in the area —coming from him— before he looks behind, and your gaze follows with half-droopy eyes. He stares directly into the CCTV and— a fucking CCTV.

You curse, and his head whips to you before he throws a wink your way, infuriating you cause he was aware of the CCTV, fucking damn it. He lowers his face to your visage, sinking his teeth into the contour of your jawline, thus imparting the mingling of blood from his lips onto your skin.

“Holy fuck sweetheart, you will eventually be the reason for my demise. Witness me accept it with a foolish grin on my face.”

Ⓒzyphqr. Do not translate, copy, modify or repost without permission.

All That Glitters | Jimin x Reader

Pairing: Soft(ish) Yandere Jimin x  Reader 

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Blood, Abandonment Issues, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jimin), Tsundere Reader, Insinuation of Smut (It’s spicy just not very descriptive),Bullying 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: With the sudden news that you are set to inherit a fortune after the passing of a distant relative you are ready to become an heiress. The only problem is that there is a clause in the contract: in order to receive your inheritance you must be married. So, who better to marry than your high school stalker?

A/N: It’s 3 in the morning and I’m exhausted. This is still the condensed version of the fic. I should have just made it a two part series. Let me know if you would prefer if I cut this fic in half and post them as two parts, whatever is more digestible. Okay, I love you, I can’t wait to see you in the comments and my inbox 💜💜💜

Note: It is not specified where the fic takes place, the school system suggests South Korea but the MC’s job suggests America (the job is a vent piece about my old job) so let’s pretend this stupid car wash chain exists in SK 😂

You let out a deep, tired sigh as you toed your shoes off. Everything was hurting from the arches of your feet to the bend of your shoulders. 

Each day had become utterly boring and utterly the same. It had been another long day of work, longer than you had ever imagined in your youth. When you were younger you had expected so much more of yourself. You had thought by now, at the ripe age of twenty-six, you would have had a high power career, an apartment with a view of the city, and perhaps a boyfriend…or two. 

But life had punched you square in the gut and body slammed you with a reality check. You had spent four years in undergrad slowly accumulating mass amounts of student debt before deciding you hadn’t had enough and wasted four more years in graduate school. You had been lulled into a false sense of comfort. All your life you had been told that you were to go to college, get a degree, and then get a “real” job. You had been dismayed to learn that despite all of your efforts you never secured a job for yourself after graduation. 

In fact, even now you didn’t have the job you had worked so hard for. Instead, you were busting your ass working a minimum wage job catering to ungrateful customers who had been fortunate enough to enter the job market twenty or even thirty years before you who all believed that they deserved your undivided attention and service. 

You were just barely managing nowadays. Your apartment was more of a closet than an apartment. Everything was confined to one room, kitchen, dining, and bedroom, all except for the bathroom. You had a faucet that never stopped leaking and the oddest stains on the wall that you refused to question anymore. To put it plain and simple, you were fucking miserable. 

Keep reading

This is so?? Poetically?? Angsty?? (+smutty) ITS SO BEAUTIFUL IM SO SOBBING.

once the thrill expires | jjk

title credit: cardigan - taylor swift

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader

premise: your housemate turned fwb takes another girl home after a night out

warnings: angsty, smutty turmoil. it's not that bad, but it definitely isn't a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that'll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

wordcount: 5.8K

note from holly: virgo boy trauma for you in the form of a jk one shot lmao. it's rare you get virgo boy shit laid this bare but he he i love oversharing on the internet! there's an old paragraph from yet another virgo boy fic hidden in here, too so if you think it looks familiar, that'll be why!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

The knock on your en-suite bathroom door comes as a surprise. 

The subsequent twist of the lock mechanism from a coin wedged in the bolt on the other side does not. 

There’s only one person it would be.

And so you don’t yell. Don’t tell him to go away, even if you do hug your legs into your chest a little tighter. 

Sitting on the floor of your shower, dignity is preserved - but with skin as red as the flags that Jungkook freely hands you, and mascara staining your cheeks from the onslaught of piping hot water showering down on you, how dignified can you really be?

No words are spoken as the steam billows from the room, Jungkook not caring to shut the door behind himself. He takes a perch on the closed lid of the toilet, elbows to his knees, tattooed hands clasped beneath his chin. Refuses to look anywhere other than you.

There’s perplexion to his taut jaw - a frown embedded in his brows - but more than anything, there’s an overwhelming sense of confusion in his soft eyes. You’re unaware of the way he’s mirroring your expression back at you; how defeated you look, wet hair sticking to the side of your face, an emptiness in your gaze that is pale in comparison to the void in your chest.

With nothing but the pitter-patter of your shower to fill the space, you’re thankful that he can’t hear the way your heart is beating, or how you’re sniffing back the tears you were freely crying before he arrived.

“Jem messaged me,” he eventually says, quiet beneath the sound of the water. Leaning back, he wipes a palm over his face, then pushes it back into his dishevelled hair. Lets his hand fall between his legs, then shrugs as he looks at you as if to say, 'Don’t look at me like that' or 'It’s not my fault.'

And realistically, you know that it isn’t. Whatever he’s done is within the parameters of what was agreed upon. The way you feel - like Jungkook has stolen the moon and stopped the tides from turning - is not.

It’s not like either of you had ever expected to let things get this far, and definitely not for this long.

What had started as quiet kisses in the corners of clubs when your friends weren’t looking, had catapulted into drunken hook-ups after those aforementioned nights out. 

He’d call you Dizzy, ‘cause he was convinced you looked at him like you’d been spinning in circles, all awe-struck and smiley. Pretty. Like a giggle was on the tip of your tongue at all times.

Was easy, back then. Convenient. He was newly single. Not looking for anything. 

You’d been quietly harbouring an illicit crush on him from the day you moved into your shared university accommodation. Had been waiting for the stars to align - and once they had, you were certain that soulmates had to exist.

It’s the only way you can explain the small earthquake that happened half the world away at the very time you first met, the tectonic plates shifting to make sure you were perfectly presented to one another. 

You didn’t feel the tremors - would have been impossible - but your heart certainly felt something. Adrenaline? Limerence? You’re not sure.

Whatever it was only became more and more prevalent with every tipsy hold of his hand on the way to clubs, or moments stolen in secrecy in the house you now share with six of your friends. 

Now in your final year of university, if you spent as much time studying, as you do fretting over Jungkook - what he’s up to, who he’s with - maybe you’d get a first-class degree.

You’re on track for a 2:1.

He’s on track for a first, though. 

You choose to believe it’s because he’s naturally more academically inclined (as if you didn’t write an entire paper for him last semester), and not because he spends significantly less time thinking about you.

There’s no need for endless thoughts, though. 

The arrangement is simple: You’re friends. 

Best friends. Spend all your time together. Are plus ones to events. Fill the void that a partner should fill; at the winter balls, cinema screenings you don't want to see alone, and in the hushed privacy of midnight intimacy. He gets you off when you need it, and you him. 

Kisses are never shared between lips - apart from that one summer when he accidentally said he was in love with you, then took it back a week later under the guise of not wanting to ‘ruin’ the friendship. 

You don’t speak about that summer.

Hook-ups are in your room, always, ‘cause you’ve only got Jem in the room next door. Jungkook’s room is up on the middle floor, surrounded by all the boys. They’d realise what’s going on far too quickly.

It’s simple - yet excruciatingly complicated when there’s a lack of commitment, and Jungkook looks at you in the way that he does. 

His lips are a little deeper than their usual pink this evening, but you put it down to alcohol. 

Denial is a wonderful thing, and delusion even greater.

Still, he leans forward to push the shower door open. Leans further still, then knocks the tap off. Lets the water trickle down the drain, the hum of the pipes murmuring like your unspoken grievances. 

Rivulets of water chase down your skin. Jungkook watches one race from your knee to your ankle, running straight over the bruises from messy nights out and the small cut at the bottom of your calf from the fountain you’d both traipsed through when you were a little too merry a few nights prior. 

He’d given you a piggyback the entire way home, blood staining the white of his shirt; the very essence of you embedded now in the fabric of him. 

He’d patched you up after you got home. Showered with you, right here, then carried you the measly five or six steps to your bed. Had told you that you’d definitely get sepsis and die. Kissed it better, then decided he didn’t know any better, and trailed his lips up your leg. Took pity on your impending death and gave you a little, lovely death just to soften the blow. 

Funny, how you think sepsis would be preferable over whatever the fuck it is that you’re feeling now.

“Jem messaged me,” he repeats. Presses his lips together, the ring in the corner of his mouth glistening under the white lights of the bathroom.  “Said I should check on you. Been in the shower for an hour, apparently.”

Well, you think to yourself, bitterness wrapping around your words like poison ivy. You’ve checked. You can go now.

The words don’t manifest in your throat. Nothing does. Not even the echo of a sob you’ve been holding in since he first stepped foot within your sanctuary.

Instead you’re silent as you get to your feet, not caring for your nakedness. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t seen before. Probably knows your body better than his own at this point. Can look at the faded bruise on your chest and know that it was left there by his lips last week. Can pick out which ones of your dainty linework tattoos were there before he met you, and which ones have been acquired since.

It’s a quiet intimacy, the way Jungkook looks at you. There’s no towel in the bathroom - an oversight by your tipsy brain when deciding you needed to wash yourself clean of the man in front of you after arriving home from the club - and Jungkook doesn’t care to offer you one. 

Insanity is the product of looking at your body, he thinks. Can’t remember a time he’s ever seen you like this and hasn’t wanted to be inside you. He’s a simple man in pursuit of simple pleasures, and the way you fit him like a glove is the simplest pleasure of them all. 

“Hm?” He questions your lack of a response. 

His deep black eyes are just like the depths of the ocean floor, and it feels like he’s dragging you right down every single time he looks at you like this. Softly. Tenderly. Sweetly. As if he actually gives a shit.

There’s no room for two in this bathroom. It’s not a space designed to be shared, no matter how many times you’ve both squeezed into the shower under far different circumstances - though now you come to think of it, perhaps they weren’t so dissimilar. 

It was always Jungkook’s pursuit of pleasure that put you in that position, just like it put you there tonight.

“Hey,” he says quietly, as you turn to leave, his grip on your waist pulling you between his legs. You don’t look at him. Just keep your head turned to face out of the room - but you make no attempt to leave. Especially when his nose brushes up against the bottom of your ribs right between your breasts, and he husks, “Why are you being like this?”

The softness of his lips as he presses them against your sternum, long lashes splayed across the top of his cheeks, has you spiralling. Kind of feels like he’s twisting a corkscrew through your heart. You know he’ll rip it right out - but maybe you’ll let him, if it means he’ll kiss the wound better.

“Hmm?” He hums. One of your hands rests on his shoulder, the other in his hair, and that’s how Jungkook knows he’s rectified the damage done for a short while. It’s like putting washi tape over holes punched in the walls - useless, and bound to fall off eventually, but ever so pretty in the meantime. Another washi-tape kiss is pressed to your skin, a little higher this time. “We had a good night, didn’t we?”

The tenderness of his voice rewrites the events of the evening. A good night. 

Not one with tears, and jealousy, and arguments that people who claim to be just friends have no business having. A night shared together, perhaps, with no one else to intrude.

Didn’t we?

You so prefer this false chain of events - the one where he left the bar with you, and held your hand in the cab ride back just like he’d done in the cab ride there.

“Is she still here?”

He’s surprised that you’re mentioning it. Half-expected you to act like it never happened. Like she never happened. Is what you usually do, whenever he goes home with someone that isn’t you. 

Still, he just continues to gently stroke your sides. Doesn’t present you with any sort of weakness.

“No.”

“Did you fuck her?”

There’s a little venom to your tone; the poison ivy around your thoughts sprouting now from your throat. 

Her. Some inconsequential girl that neither of you will likely ever see again. Looked nothing like you, but a hell of a lot like his ex. 

“No, Diz,” he softens the sternness of his tone with a name only he calls you. “I didn’t fuck her.”

You’ve no idea if this is a lie or not. 

It’ll be accepted as truth for an hour. Maybe two. Just enough time for you to convince yourself that you’re the one he wants. That he couldn’t bear to fuck anyone else. That he sent her on her way after a kiss or awkward fumble, because he realised no one else could feel as good as you.

You’ll ignore the fact you know he’s here because Jem messaged him. 

You’ll ignore the fact he thinks you’ve been in the shower for over an hour, and has no actual knowledge of the events of it all. 

You’ll ignore the scratch mark on his back, and in the morning you’ll believe it was you who left there even though your nails are bitten right down.

The lies you’ll tell yourself will be far more grand than the ones Jungkook ever tells you. Nobody can ever hurt you quite like you hurt yourself.

And so, against your better judgement, you let him follow you to your bed. 

There's a clang as he tosses his rings down into the ceramic dish beside your bed. It's white, and speckled in tiny black dots, and matches the one Jungkook has in his own bedroom. Not really a surprise. He was the one who bought it for you. Before then, he used to just tuck his rings beneath your pillows - but he kept losing them, and he found it annoying having to rummage around for them whenever he was trying to make a silent exit so as to not wake you.

You tell yourself that small things like this are Jungkook's way of integrating himself into your life; creating permanence. In reality, it's just something that makes it easier for him to leave.

It used to be different. He used to stay. You convince yourself each and every time that he’ll do what he used to do before things got so confusing. That he’ll stay, and that things will be okay.

Leaving is the last thing on your mind right now, though, and it will be until he comes.

You let him kiss your skin, but he’ll never kiss your lips. Let him lay claim to your body, even though you know he’ll never lay claim to your soul. 

It’s nice to pretend.

Nice, when he lays you down and rids himself of his shirt. Nice, when he presses your legs apart, and looks at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever laid eyes upon. Nice, when he says shit like, “Such a nice cunt,” and “Let me make you feel good.”

So nice, when he strokes up and down your inner thigh, eyes trained on your pussy. 

So, so nice when he slowly drips a little spit between his pursed lips and watches as it trails down your folds. 

So fucking nice, when he spreads you with his index and middle finger, groaning at the sight of you.

See, Jungkook can be nice. Can be honest. Can tell you how much he wants you, and you can believe him without having to do mental gymnastics over it all.

As he sinks his middle finger into you - “Shit. So wet for me, aren’t you?” - Jungkook is on his best behaviour. He’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget he ever made you feel bad, cause he needs this. Needs you. 

Not in the life-debilitating, earth-shattering, universe-bending way that you need him, but in a way that isn’t too dissimilar. 

You’re his best friend. He loves you in his own, curious way. Would lay his life on the line for you. Just can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants for no other reason than selfish gluttony. 

It’s his fatal flaw, but he just thinks everyone has them. That most people are like this.

Of the seven deadly sins, Jungkook wields them all. Too proud to admit his wrongdoings. Greedy in his need to have everything life can offer, and how he refuses to limit himself to just you. His lust and gluttony go hand in hand - yet whenever any one else with similar predispositions look in your direction, he turns green with envy. Green, until he’s red, wrath taking hold. 

But he’s lazy, too. Far too settled in how easy it is to have his way with you. Why would he try harder when you never make him?

That’s your cardinal sin: desperation. 

It reeks. Spiced vanilla and black cherry. Tarnishes your skin, until Jungkook licks it from you.

And so as his lips press down your legs, wet and wanting, you don’t object. In fact, you don’t really do anything. You just allow it to happen.

Because you are desperate - for him, his approval, his desire. His heart.

You’ll never get it, mind you, for his heart is hollow. 

Saw every example of what he considered to be true love crackle and crumble until it fell apart. Parents divorced. High-school sweetheart cheated. Love, as you know it, doesn’t exist in Jungkook’s understanding of life. 

You never stood a chance. Not really.

The only times his heart is full is when he steals enough adoration from yours, and cosplays it as his own. Shines it back at you, and tricks you into thinking that maybe he did mean it when he mumbled false declarations into your lips.

But that was three summers ago, now, and Jungkook is a creature of habit. Too stuck in his ways to ever change. Comfortable in this chaos with you.

‘Cause while the other girls are fleeting, and fun, and always very nice, they’re never comfortable. Not like you are. 

“I liked your dress tonight,” he whispers, as he pushes a second finger into you. Pumps them gently, palm skywards, coaxing soft little moans from your lips. Curls them just right, just like he always does.

The affection of such a compliment rids you of the haunting way he’d looked at you earlier that evening. 

Up, down. No smile. Turned away to change the song coming through the aux at pre-drinks. Didn’t look at you again until he was passing out shots for everyone to take. Just nodded towards your necklace - the one his hobbyist silversmith mother made you for Christmas - and asked, “You like it?”

The pendant is small. Embossed with the letters DJ - the name his mother collectively calls you whenever you spend the summer together at his place. The hammered edge of the pendant matches the ring that wraps around your thumb. Another one of her creations, gifted to you by him for your birthday.

“Of course I do,” you’d said. Seemed silly for him to ask. You wear it most days. 

“Good,” he’d nodded, then took his shot and pretended as if he wasn't all too aware that your dress would be attracting good-for-nothing men all night.

See, Jungkook knows you like the necklace. Had just been reminding you of it, and the fact it’s his initial on there with the initial only he calls you. Well, him and his mother. Goes with the territory. 

She’s seen you through your formative years. Only ever sees the good parts, because Jungkook orchestrates it that way.

She doesn’t see the moments like these, when he’s crushed your self esteem and tries to fix it in the most idiotic of ways. 

The necklace pools around the base of your throat as your head tips back into the pillows, his thumb coming to toy with your clit, gently pressing down.

“Shush, Diz,” he smiles, so pleased to see your body responding in the way that it always does. “You’ll get us in trouble.”

God forbid the people you live with - who’ve all heard the arguments after his illicit encounters with randomers, and seen his face of thunder whenever you’re getting ready for first dates - ever figure out you’re fucking. Not like it’s obvious in the slightest. Not why Jem texted Jungkook, instead of checking on you herself.

Biting onto your wrist, you try and stifle the impact of his touch - ‘cause if they do hear, it will be your fault. You’ll be the reason everyone knows your dirty little secrets. You’ll be the one who ruins it all. Not him. Just you. 

He doesn’t mean to condition you in such a way. Doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Nor do you - but your self esteem is shot to shit. You’re good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love, even if Jungkook insists that there’s no one he adores more. It always comes with an add-on of ‘you’re my best friend’, or ‘you wouldn’t wanna date me anyways’.

Maybe he’s right.

But maybe it would have been nice to try.

Shame.

The pace of Jungkook’s fingers pumping into you begins to slow. Leaking around the base of his knuckles, you’re just as wet as you always are with him. Even when the emotional labour of letting him have his way with you feels like a ten tonne weight on your chest, crushing down on your ribs and spoiling you forevermore, your body still wants him. Only him. Always him.

Withdrawing his fingers, Jungkook taps the outer side of your thigh. “On your front for me, Diz. Face down, ass up.”

With anyone else, Jungkook is far more often on the receiving end. It’s a shame, ‘cause his talents go to waste, it’s just what he’s found to be typical of random hook-ups.

He loves pussy. Loves eating it. Loves that you love it, too.

Slow as he spreads your ass with his hands, Jungkook really doesn’t fuck around with wasting time. He dives in without hesitation, burying his tongue between your folds. Cares not for accuracy, nor carefulness. Just wants his tongue all over you.

Your body lurches forward, hands clutching onto the duvet beneath you. He’s always been like this. Hungry. Just as desperate as you so often feel, but better at hiding it than you are.

His tongue laps against you. Sinks into your soaked hole as deep as he can get it. Uses one of his hands to reach around and toy with your clit while he continues to explore somewhere he knows like the back of his hand.

Pulling back a little, Jungkook’s breathing is heavy. You can hear it. Groan, as he grips your ass again. Spanks it softly, then get back to his previous position. Licks a stripe from your clit up to your leaking cunt, then continues. Flicks up against the tight muscle you rarely let him fuck around with.

But you want him to want you. Want him to have you in whichever capacity he so desires. 

You reach back. Tangle a hand in his hair, and encourage him to massage your tight hole with his tongue, like you know he loves to do. 

It’s kinda cute, in a way. He likes doing it, ‘cause he loves the way it feels whenever your tongue toys with his ass. Assumes other people must love it too. Just wants you to feel good. Wants to right his earlier wrongs.

He continues to trace up and down both your holes, stimulating your entire body in the process. Rubs your clit with his fingers, till you're writhing against the sheets, body pressed flat to the cotton as Jungkook begins to fuck his fingers into your again. 

“You gonna cum for me?” He husks, a smile on his wet lips as he watches the tell-tale sign of an orgasm rush over you. Soon, you’ll be looking at him with dizzy eyes once more, and your namesake will make Jungkook feel things he pretends he can’t feel. “That’s it, Diz. All over my fingers. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

There’s a relief that comes with your orgasm for Jungkook. Hope that you’ll stop being mardy with him. He doesn’t like it when you don’t like him. These days, he keeps making choices that make it hard for you to like him. 

But you always like him - like him so much - in the comedown of a climax.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. Wants to coax a second orgasm from you while he still can. Pulls you back into position - face down, ass up - and pushes down his sweats. Cock hard, there’s a small damp patch in his boxers from the precum he’s leaked for you. Lines himself up. 

“Let me fuck you,” he begs before he pushes into you.

“Uh-uh,” you full forward a little, preventing him from doing what he so desperately wants to do. Turning to look over your shoulder, you shake your head. “Condom.”

He furrows his brows. Has the audacity to look fucking offended, as if he didn’t bring another girl back to the house you share.

You’re stupid, and you’re desperate, and you make all the wrong choices, but you aren’t naive. Not really. Your delusions and denial are always elevated away from reality, of which you like to think you have a firm grip on.

And so you simply say, “Don’t believe you didn’t fuck her.”

He doesn’t deny it. Shakes his head, not that you can see it. Just reaches to the shelf above your bed, and gets one from the pot you keep them tucked away in. Rarely ever use them. It’s a novelty, more than not, when you use them. Something to make him last a little longer.

It’s different today.

Today, it’s because you don’t know if his cock is fucking clean or not.

It should crush you, but it doesn’t. 

Just a fact of life. Jungkook fucked someone else less than three hours ago. Came, probably. For someone else. Over someone else. Inside someone else. 

But that desperation of yours is back once more. You want to be the reason why Jungkook loses his mind in temporary bliss. To be better. To be his last memory of the evening.

And so as Jungkook rolls the condom down his thick shaft, you position yourself perfectly for him. Whimper as the tip of his cock kisses your entrance. Whine, as he pushes inside you. 

“That’s it,” he husks, gripping your ass cheeks to spread them nice and wide. Looking down to where your bodies meet, Jungkook is reminded of why he enjoys you so much. No one takes him so well. No one. He knows this. Doesn’t know why the fuck he ever feels the need to seek out anyone else. They’re never as good as this. “Fuck. That’s it, baby.”

Your hips roll back, ass bouncing in that hypnotic way he always swears will ruin him. His grip loosens to let you do the hard work, one of his hands stroking up your spine until it’s resting around the base of your throat. 

Taking back a little control, he keeps your head pushed into the pillows. Grunts. “Take this cock so fuckin’ well, don’t you?”

The mumble you moan into the sheets isn’t enough for him. He always does this. Asserts control and then realises he actually kinda fuckin’ hates it. Fingers still wrapped around the base of your neck, Jungkook pulls you up.

Chest pressed to your back, Jungkook wastes no time locking you in place with an arm around the front of your waist. His cock continues to pump upwards into you, the movements a little subdued but by no means lacking. 

The ridge of his thick head rubs up against your sweet spot. Gets you so fucking needy. Has your hand dipping to your clit to match the pressure.

And when you do? Oh, it’s heaven. You can’t help but whine - so Jungkook uses the hand that isn't on your waist to cover your mouth.

“You only get to cum if you’re quiet,” he tells you. “Be quiet for me, baby.”

But his hips are erratic. The sounds are lewd; skin on skin. It’s wet. Disgusting. Needy. Him, just as much as you. Sweat blossoms on his skin, keeping you both in this clammy haze of hedonism. 

Catching his lips on your ear, Jungkook doesn’t care if he isn’t supposed to let kisses linger so close to your lips. Tongue wet, he intrudes. Licks the shell of your ear. Grazes his teeth on your lobe. Whispers, “You looked so pretty tonight,” then drags his tongue across your ear. 

Cares not for precision nor accuracy, just the fact that this is an area of the body he doesn’t often explore, and that maybe he should do it more often, given how tightly your pussy is clamping around him.

There’s something about it - the obstruction of one of your senses likely to blame, sound distorted whenever his tongue licks against it - that makes you whine. 

You can’t even really do that now. Are too muffled beneath his hand - until he pushes the two fingers that had been inside your pussy earlier into your mouth. 

The taste is just the same as it always is whenever he does shit like this. Loves having you taste yourself. Experiencing what he experiences. Wants you to know exactly why he’s incapable of letting you go.

“Slutty little mouth,” he smirks against your ear. “Gonna finish in it.”

“Mhhm?” you mumble against the fingers you’re keeping wet and warm for him.

“Mhmm,” he replies. Presses a kiss to your temple, ‘cause he isn’t really thinking straight. Groans when your cunt clenches from the touch. “God, you want it, don’t you? Want it so bad. Wanna swallow my cum.”

Of course you do. You’ll take what he’ll give you. 

Your mumble around his fingers isn’t enough. He wants to hear you say it. Frees your mouth of himself. Grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Turns you to face further over your shoulder.

He’s just gonna make you say it. Just make you say something lewd to get him a little closer. Just… Just gonna… Just...- Oh, fuck it. Your lips are just there, and they’re wet, and they’re pouty and - God, forgive me - perfect for him.  

His eyes flitter between your eyes and your lips. Is aware you’re doing the same. 

“Kook,” you whisper, as if you’re about to reprimand him.

“Please,” he begs. Thinks he needs this just as much as you do. Maybe even more so.

And so somewhere between the overwhelming acknowledgement that this is a catastrophic chain of events, and the promise of a happy ending (of which you know damn well will never reach fruition), you let him sink his lips into yours.

You’re pretty in war, and even prettier in defeat. 

Jungkook thinks you’re prettiest when you’re all his. 

You think that to be his is to accept an eternal loss. 

The breath of his nose is heavy against your cheek as his lips press into yours, brows furrowed. The need for you to be lewd is abandoned, ‘cause Jungkook doesn’t even think he’ll last long enough for it. Thinks that nothing gets him closer than the flavour of your lips. 

Hips still jerking up, the sound of his skin hitting your ass echoing around the room, Jungkook fucks himself into you until he can do it no longer. Pulls away. Rips off his condom. Tosses it to the floor. Gets you face down again. Wanks himself to the point of coming undone, hot spurts of cum dripping onto your ass and spilling down to the valley of your spine.

He’s the one moaning now, your body defiled by a boy who you wish would paint you in pretty compliments instead. Still, this is a compliment. Kind of. You’re hot enough to make him cum. That’s nice, you suppose.

“Shit,” he chokes out, breathing all out of sync, heartbeat far too rapid. A light spank is tapped against your ass, then softly stroked. He soothes. Aloe on sunburn. Milk with hot sauce. Pretty kisses in the comedown of a rough fuck. 

You won’t get those. Wasn’t a particularly rough fuck, either - and yet it hurts so much when he gets up to leave.

It’s awkward. He doesn’t really say bye. Doesn’t acknowledge the fact he stoked a fire inside you that burned you from the inside out. Ignores the ashes that are scattered around your vessel, as if your soul has been ejected from its home. 

He’s warm, when you look at him. That little part of your heart has been stolen once more. He’s just feeding it back to you.

“Sorry,” he says, a hand on your doorknob. “I shouldn’t- I mean, we shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine,” you offer.

That’s the thing about Jungkook. He’ll give you the world, then realise it was never his to give. Always has to ask for it back. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, then acted as if was foolish - only to repeat the same mistakes the next evening.

It’s what he’s always done, and is what he’ll always do.

You’ll never learn. 

The shirt you chuck on to head downstairs the next morning is his. 

Far too big for you, it finishes around your thighs. Television blaring in the room beneath you, it’s obvious your housemates are awake, and even as you’re trudging down the stairs, you’re not quite sure you’re alive.

The headache of an overbearing hangover is threatening your life. You’re certain of it. The fact your housemates have the television set to what must be the maximum volume? Only further sending you to an early grave. 

And yet when you see Jungkook sitting by the breakfast bar, hair in all different directions, a bowl of cereal in front of him, and smiling in the direction of whomever else is in the room, you find yourself smiling, too. 

“Morning,” you say pleasantly as you walk into the kitchen, ready to flop your forehead down on Jungkook’s shoulder like you so often do.

Ready, until you notice the look in his eyes when he turns to face you.

Ready, until you glance in the direction of his previous smile.

Ready, until you see the girl who looks a lot like his ex-girlfriend and absolutely nothing like you leaning on the other side of the counter. Mug from your trip to Amsterdam together in her hands, and the shirt you got him for his birthday covering her body, she smiles.

You’re drowning.

“Oh,” you say, not looking at him. Only her. “I didn’t realise we had company.”

“Is she still here?”

“No.”

She’s awkward as she nods. “Sorry, hey. I crashed here last night - hope you don’t mind? It’s just you know what it’s like getting an uber at that time-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod. Smile. Jungkook thinks you look pretty - but of course he does. You look defeated. “Totally.”

“Did you fuck her?

“No, Diz. I didn't fuck her.”

“Jungkook said you were feeling unwell last night?” She tries to make conversation. She needn’t. You feel far more unwell now than you ever did last night - and that’s before you notice the pretty purple bruise forming on her neck. “How are you feeling now?”

Her care is kind. Considerate. Wholly wasted on you because you’re gonna lie, and say that you’re fine, even though it feels as if your lungs have been filled with venom spat by a lover who is incapable of loving.

Still, you don’t look at Jungkook. Just make your excuses. Leave.

And even though he knows that he should, Jungkook doesn’t chase after you. 

He lets you go, because he knows you’ll always come back. You always do.

But if you don't?

Well, he’ll go back to you, and you’ll let him. Again, you always do.

From the kitchen, Jungkook can hear your showering starting up. Appetite lost, he isn’t listening to the girl in front of him. Isn’t even really sure of her name.

All that he’s sure of is that the fall out of this is not gonna be pretty.

producers!yoonmin x assistant!reader, fem!reader, bi!yoonmin

genre: smut with some plot, slight fluff

summary: There’s no telling just how long you’d been stuck in the windowless studio, and you’re just about ready to walk out and forfeit your paycheck for the week, until your bosses strike up an interesting bargain

warnings: swearing, slight arguing/playful name calling, mentions of alcohol consumption but no one is drunk, dom!yoonmin x sub!reader, unprotected sex (don’t do it), they’re kind of in a situationship, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), masturbation, hair pulling, degradation, praise, spanking, choking, penetrative sex, some mxm, cum eating, big dick behavior and practice from both of them, hinting at feelings

a/n: this is mature content so if you are under 18 years old or uncomfortable with this, please do not go below the cut! I also do not proofread of edit my work so there may be some typos, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

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