Blunt Rotation | Pjm

blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

↳ pairing: prettyboy!jimin x weedgirl!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | law school au | classmates to lovers | smut

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | a somewhat subby!jimin | consensual sex while high | choking (in a sexy way) | fingering | cunnilingus | spit | protected vaginal sex | self-indulgent rants about capitalism and classism | jimin makes a lame dick joke

↳ notes: on god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs i would apologize but i already warned y’all, so you get what you get. these 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

↳ masterlist 

↳ what was jai listening to? a weed playlist made by yours truly 

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?” 

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive. 

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you. 

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band. 

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law. 

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does. 

One thing that doesn't suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin. 

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You're not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no? 

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks. 

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin. 

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration. 

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks. 

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry. 

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home. 

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again. 

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim. 

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin. 

🍃

“Hey, can I come over tonight?” 

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white. 

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?” 

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave. 

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.” 

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart. 

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time. 

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.” 

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest. 

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.” 

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.” 

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.” 

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.” 

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him. 

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot. 

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?” 

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.” 

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.” 

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary. 

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game. 

🍃

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head. 

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real. 

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze. 

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are. 

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead. 

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter. 

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own. 

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain. 

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.” 

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that. 

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.” 

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are. 

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class. 

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed). 

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.” 

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment. 

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?” 

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again. 

“I do not.” At least he’s honest. 

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.” 

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out. 

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?” 

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?” 

Another shake of his head. Of course. 

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better. 

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky. 

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed. 

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.” 

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot. 

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face? 

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.” 

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?” 

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have. 

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces. 

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises. 

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame. 

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper. 

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place. 

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him. 

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.” 

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.” 

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle. 

So you don’t. 

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look. 

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys. 

“Got what you need, Chim?” 

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship? 

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class. 

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.” 

🍃

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses. 

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit. 

God, being a good person is so hard! 

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step. 

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder. 

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You're wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot. 

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid. 

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really. 

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash. 

Fuck. 

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.” 

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment. 

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.” 

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh. 

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi. 

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic. 

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It’s cute how concerned he is. 

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling. 

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?” 

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment. 

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?” 

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!” 

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.  

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.” 

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words. 

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort. 

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again. 

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink. 

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.” 

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix. 

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin's living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?” 

Jimin's voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it. 

"Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?" You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.” 

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?" You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you. 

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked. 

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks. 

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be. 

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop. 

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.” 

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry. 

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.  

“You ever fucked while you’re high?” 

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that. 

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think. 

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?” 

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself. 

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…” 

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you wanna try it now?” 

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?” 

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it. 

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch. 

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.” 

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling. 

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat. 

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap. 

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away. 

His eyes' heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss. 

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.” 

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.” 

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…” 

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open. 

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them. 

"I've always wanted to talk to you," Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I just get nervous. I'm sure that seems pretty lame." 

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency. 

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!" It's shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp. 

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound. 

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit. 

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes. 

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up. 

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit. 

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin. 

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him. 

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take. 

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back. 

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you. 

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit. 

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?” 

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful. 

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.” 

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you. 

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock. 

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan. 

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.” 

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity. 

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.” 

Jimin’s face turns even pinker. 

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what? 

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent. 

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are. 

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch. 

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound. 

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good. 

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth. 

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too. 

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel. 

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples. 

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out. 

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what. 

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.” 

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard. 

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock. 

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise. 

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name. 

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any. 

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It's shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It's a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh. 

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest. 

“I think I gave you more than the tip…” 

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.” 

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do. 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

can you write some yandere jimin smut? I don't have any specific request for the plot

Oh boy, I can sure try!

This is my very first ever fully written smut so please be kind🥺💕

Teddy Bear

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: yandere + stalker au + smut

Summary: Little did you know the teddy bear that was anonymously left on your doorstep contained a little hidden secret.

Warnings: This is purely for fictional purposes, yandere content, 18+ content, masturbation (both male and female), reader being watched through a hidden camera, invasion of privacy, dark and unsettling themes, please read at your own risk

Everything about you was so perfect to Jimin. Your radiant personality which never failed to brighten his day. The almost permanent smile that always tugged up at your lips. How your voice sounded as sweet as honey, drawing him in as if he was a tiny bumblebee. 

He even loved how you were so naively quick to accept a special gift from a secret admirer. A small stuffed bear which you didn’t hesitate to bring inside, going as far as to place it on the dresser directly across from your bed. 

It worked out perfectly for him in the end. After all, he was gifted a perfectly clear view of all your sinful adventures. 

~ • • ~

It always amused Jimin how shy you could be, even in the comfort of your own home. 

He currently rested back on his couch, a small laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of him, and through the eyes of your cuddly new teddy bear, he observed your every move. 

Jimin watched with delight as you crept around your bedroom, wearing nothing but a single white tank top and a pair of light blue panties. Even through the slightly distorted camera quality, he could still make out the heart shaped birthmark on your upper thigh. His lips then suddenly curled up in a twisted smirk.

Jimin knew exactly what you were planning. 

His suspicions were almost immediately confirmed as you closed your curtains before crawling on top of your mattress.

You couldn’t risk someone seeing you after all, could you?

You got yourself comfortable on your back, spreading your legs slightly apart. 

His tongue trailed across his bottom lip as your hand slowly traced down your body making you twitch in anticipation. Jimin swore you knew he was watching. That’s why you always made sure to go as slow as possible. Just so you could torment him. Your fingertips grazed down your clothed pussy, applying just enough pressure to cause your hips to bounce up. 

Jimin could feel his pants painfully tighten as lustful thoughts began swarming in his mind.

Oh, what he would do to be there with you. To have his fingers ghost over your soft skin. To have your hips buck up at his touch. And only his touch.

It didn’t take him long to hastily unbuckle his belt, only to get frustrated at the series of loops. In response, he threw his belt across the room, then unzipped his jeans, his hand lazily wrapping itself around his cock.

He stared with hooded eyes as you slowly pulled your panties down until they pooled around your ankles, your glistening pussy now on full display for him. Travelling back up your thigh, your hand found it’s way to your clit, where your fingers began to rub slow circles.

Moments like this is where Jimin was glad he splurged for the camera with an audio component. Your moans echoed through his living room while your fingers began to pick up the pace. At the same time, Jimin’s grip began rubbing up and down his length, matching your current speed. 

He groaned when your back arched off the bed, a loud gasp escaping your chest.

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” he breathlessly muttered, spitting down at his hand to create make-shift lubricant. 

But as if you heard him, your fingers slowed back down again. Your free hand moving up to your chest and kneading your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Jimin absolutely adored the way you teased yourself. The way you reluctantly denied yourself an immediate orgasm. His grip tightened to create the illusion that it was your wet pussy wrapped around his cock, bouncing up and down it’s length.

“No one can fuck you like I could,” his voice growled out to no one in particular. 

He imagined the way you would whine his name in pure desperation. The way your tits would bounce up and down with his every thrust. The way it would feel to have your pussy clench around his cock while you cum.

His eyes returned back to the laptop screen, only to watch as you fucked yourself with your fingers, your legs uncontrollably quaking. You free hand was now under the fabric of your white tank top, pinching and tugging at your sensitive nipples. 

Jimin’s high was approaching fast, but he could tell yours was too by the way your whole body stuttered and shook. Your moans only got louder the faster your fingers went and his hand picked up speed, wanting to cum the exact second you did. 

A series of whines left your throat as you came around your own fingers, your thighs clamping shut.

Jimin groaned seconds after, an euphoric feeling rushing through him like a title wave. He felt splatters of hot liquid cover his hand and abdomen, but he could barely care. He stayed frozen in place, staring at the way you rolled onto your side, your chest heaving up and down in a light pant.

At this very moment, he wanted nothing more than to claim your innocence as his. 

• • •

// Oh my goodness, I was so out of my comfort zone writing this, so I hope I didn’t butcher it too much 🍄 \\

wanna stream a porno | kth

At this point, attempting to deny that you have feelings for Taehyung is laughable. Even his subscribers can sense the chemistry between the two of you.

○ Pairing: Dom!Taehyung x Sub!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Frenemies to lovers, sex work, fluff (?), smut

○ Word Count: 4,846

○ Warnings: Sex work (cam), MC uses they/them pronouns, Tae refers to MC as bunny and bun - aka rope bunny which is the term for the person being tied up in a shibari scene, bdsm, bondage, impact play, spanking, use of degrading language - that isn't actually meant to be mean, voyeurism, exhibition kink, Tae makes MC call him daddy so they won't dox him lmfao but it's not a kink - he's doing it as a joke to tease MC, blow job, vaginal fingering, sex toys, crying during sex, subspace/dropping, unprotected vaginal sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, implied aftercare

○ Notes: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, BESTIES 🫦 I hope you enjoy the final installment of The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles! Photographer Tae will be missed 💔 I definitely did not proofread this, so abandon all hope, ye who enter! My brain is literally broken.

○ Post Date: February 14, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? One Of The Girls (Sped Up) - The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lily-Rose Depp

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

“Too tight?” Taehyung murmurs against the curve of your ear, his breath tickling your neck. 

It’s embarrassing how your body reacts to the sound of his low, velvety voice. You'd snorted when Taehyung first told you that people on the internet paid money to listen to his dirty talk and watch him jerk off. There was no fucking way; he had to be lying. You’d been sure of it. 

But now… 

Taehyung reaches around your body and tugs on the rope he’s just tied your wrists with. It looks rough, black, and twisted but smooth as it rubs against your skin when you move. 

You shiver and shake your head, forgetting what you’d discussed earlier in the day until it’s too late. The smack to your ass stings, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any sound. 

“What did I tell you, bun?” Taehyung asks softly, running his palm across the skin he just smacked. He squeezes your asscheek and jiggles it before removing his hand. 

“I have to use my words,” you speak up like he told you to, even though your voice is hoarse with desire and nervousness. Because, fuck, are you nervous. 

“Mhmm…” Taehyung hums in agreement, though he sounds distracted. 

You can’t see him from where you kneel on the floor in his bedroom, but you can feel it when he gets up. If you wanted to, you could twist around to face him. It would be difficult, though, with how much of your body is tied up. 

Taehyung spent at least twenty minutes carefully weaving intricate patterns against your naked skin, crossing the rope in what almost looks like a star formation across your back that wraps around to the front of your body, keeping your arms tied to your sides and your hands bound in front of you. The rope cages your chest like a harness and extends down to wrap around your legs, forcing you into a kneeling position and making you unable to straighten your legs. 

It took you three weeks of practicing before Taehyung could fully tie you up without you going into a panic attack. 

“It’s not too tight,” you announce after clearing your throat. 

You watch as Taehyung circles your body until he stands in front of you. He reaches out to flick his middle finger against the underside of your chin, prompting you to tilt your head back to look up at him. 

“My little rope bunny looks so pretty, all tied up for me,” Taehyung says with a sparkling grin that makes your whole body flush with heat. 

“I want to tell you off so badly right now,” you hiss through gritted teeth. Your frustration only makes Taehyung’s grin widen. 

“I bet you do. It’s a shame you can’t, but rules are rules.” Taehyung shrugs, not at all nonchalant in his mocking tone. 

You close your eyes as he trails his finger down your throat and past your collarbones until he reaches one of your nipples. Usually, it would take more than a gentle brush of a fingertip against your nipple for you to feel aroused, but there’s something about being tied up that has heightened your senses. Every minor touch has your nerves sparking and fraying at the ends. Taehyung isn’t even doing anything, and you’re already wet and aching. 

“Taehyung,” you do your best to sound steady and fail. 

“Let me fix the cameras and figure out what I’m gonna wear, okay? I’ll be quick; I promise.” 

Taehyung rearranged all the furniture in his bedroom to leave an open spot in the corner of the room where he set up cameras and photography lighting. His laptop rests on an end table nearby, the screen showing a mirrored image of you kneeling on the floor on a pale pink silk sheet, fluffy pillows surrounding you in a half-circle. It’s all very Y2K, softcore aesthetic – not what you’d expect from Taehyung. His followers are mostly young women, though, and he says he likes to play up his soft side for them. 

It sounds ridiculous, but there’s something about being tied up in such a gentle environment that’s making your pussy throb. 

Taehyung is quick, as he promised. He returns, shirtless and wearing a pair of black joggers to match the black rope wrapped around your body. You drag your eyes over his torso, admiring the flat plane of his abdomen and the swell of his pecs. Smooth – it’s the best word to describe Taehyung. His voice, body, and charisma when he murmurs sweet seductions in your ear are always so smooth. 

When he catches you staring, Taehyung winks at you. It makes you flustered despite your desire to remain neutral, and you quickly look down to find something else to focus your attention on. In Taehyung’s hands is a long, rectangular purple box. He sets it down next to you on the floor and opens the lid. 

You gasp when you see what’s inside. 

“Taehyung…” 

“It’s for later. Don’t worry about it,” Taehyung says softly, pressing his index finger against your parted lips to quiet you. 

On instinct, you close your lips around Taehyung’s finger and suck it gently, swirling your tongue around it. Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed for a few seconds until he pulls his hand away. 

“You’re such a slut.”

“Fuck you.” 

You can’t help but grin when Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you. He’s an idiot, but you love it. You love him, maybe. To be determined. 

Or never. Never is also fine. 

“So… what the fuck is gonna happen now? I’m starting to cramp,” you complain as Taehyung messes around with his laptop. 

“What?” Taehyung spins around quickly, nearly sending one of his floor lamps crashing when his elbow collides with the stand. “You’re in pain? Where? Let me loosen–” 

“Oh my god, Taehyung, I’m fine. I just don’t feel like kneeling naked on the fucking floor while you dick around!” 

With a snort, Taehyung turns his back on you. 

“I’m just trying to take care of my little movie star, alright?” 

The nickname, if that’s what you can even call it, makes your stomach flutter. It doesn’t matter that you’re trying your best to stay unaffected by Taehyung’s bullshit; Taehyung has you under his spell like he always does. 

“I know what to say…” you insist with a pout, flexing your fingers. “Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good…” 

It’s elementary, but all the prep Taehyung made you do leading up to this moment showed you how important having a system is, be it a random safe word or the colors. What you don’t want to tell Taehyung is how comforting the rope is. You don’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that you like being restrained. It’s like a tight embrace, and the rope causes goosebumps to spread across your body when its silkiness rubs against your skin every time you shift positions. 

Watching you over his shoulder, Taehyung calls you softly, “I’m going to start the session if that’s okay?”

You nod, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as you hear the little pings from Taehyung’s laptop, indicating that people are paying to join the livestream. It’s still shocking that Taehyung has such a large following. However, it makes sense now that he has been so interested in erotic photography and film for his projects as a university student studying art. Funny how your roommate, Hoseok, never bothered to tell you that his friend does amateur porn – though Taehyung was quick to make it clear that he has never had anyone else on his stream before you. 

You’re special.

You wonder who might be sitting on the other end, paying to watch Taehyung pleasure himself every Wednesday night. 

“It’s hump day,” Taehyung had said with an exasperated sigh when you’d asked why he chose Wednesdays, as if you were the stupidest person on the planet for asking such a question.

The worst part is wondering if someone watching Taehyung’s stream will recognize you. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from showing his face, but he’d offered you a mask or only to use camera angles that wouldn’t expose your identity. You’d turned down both offers, though you can’t remember why. You can’t remember much of anything, your mind going blank the moment Taehyung addresses the anonymous subscribers waiting for porn. 

“Hey everyone, it’s nice to see you all again this week,” Taehyung greets his followers with a deeper and richer voice than you’ve ever heard him use. It makes your body tingle. “For those of you following me on my socials or who joined last week, you’ll know I promised to do something special for Valentine’s Day, right?” 

You can’t see the laptop screen; Taehyung is standing in front of it. He’s also blocking the camera, so the people logged into the session can’t see you yet. 

“I have a special guest,” Taehyung shifts to the side so you’re in view, “This is Bunny, and it’s their first time on camera like this, so please be kind.” 

Unsure of what to do, you wave your fingers in a greeting, unable to do much else since you’re all tied up. It must be enough because Taehyung smiles when he looks at you, and you feel your face heat up from the gentle gesture. 

Luckily, Taehyung’s attention quickly returns to the livestream chat. Apparently, Jimin is hanging out in his bedroom, moderating the chat to ensure no one posts anything inappropriate. Knowing Jimin will be watching excites you a little bit. 

“Ah, no, we’re not dating,” Taehyung chuckles, and it’s strange to be able to say that you know Taehyung well enough to know that this laughter isn’t genuine. “Don’t get any ideas, though. Trust me. Our little bun might look harmless, but it’s a ruse.”

You can’t help but snort. You’d think Taehyung is stalling, but you’ve learned that his subscribers expect a sort of parasocial relationship with him. He usually warms up by feeding into that. As weirdly cute as it is, your nerves are making you impatient. 

“Even though it’s my bun’s first time, I don’t think we need to take it easy on them,” Taehyung smirks into the camera, and more pings ring through the bedroom. 

Each ping indicates that the livestream viewers are leaving messages in the chat and sending Taehyung money to request specific actions – actions he refuses to tell you about because that would ruin all the fun. 

“Hmm…” Taehyung murmurs, eyes dragging from the streaming platform’s chat feature to you, wrapped up like a pretty present for him. The look is weighty and dark, which Taehyung has never had while looking at you. 

Suddenly embarrassed, you drop your gaze as Taehyung approaches where you kneel. 

“Are you ready, bun?” Taehyung’s question is softer than the look he gives you. 

You nod in return and hope your nerves aren’t visible to Taehyung’s loyal fans. It would suck to fuck this up for him, as much as he annoys you. Admittedly, ever since that impromptu threesome with Jimin, Taehyung has been acting different around you. He’s been almost… sweet. 

Taehyung takes out a black, wide-end riding crop from the purple box. He hits the palm of his hand with it a few times as though testing it out. He looks good, the muscles in his biceps shifting and bulging every time he winds up to flick the crop. Your entire body shudders when his dark eyes flit down to meet yours. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to speak up, hm?” 

Taehyung falls into character quicker than you expect. It gives you whiplash watching him push back his hair, now a light minty color that looks pretty against the pink surrounding you, his gaze an oppressive force crushing you harder than the rope ever could. Your attention briefly falls on the laptop when a few pings ring out. 

What if people don’t like you? What if you don’t do well? You’d agreed to do this because Taehyung wanted to expand his portfolio, just like every other time you agreed to spend time with him. You both know that isn’t why you’re here, even if neither of you want to say it out loud. 

“Bun.” Using the flat end of the crop, Taehyung lifts your chin to look at him instead of the laptop. “Don’t think about them. Just focus on me, okay?” 

“Okay,” you breathe, suddenly feeling lightheaded. 

Taehyung drags the crop down your chest, tapping lightly at your tits to watch them bounce against the black rope. Goosebumps rush across your skin like waves in the wake of the crop’s path down your body. 

“How many should I give you?” 

You blink a few times, eyes suddenly bleary as you watch Taehyung walk around to stand behind you. The camera captures your side profile, allowing viewers to see you and Taehyung clearly. Despite Taehyung’s reassuring words, it’s hard not to think about the anonymous people watching Taehyung caress your body. 

“How many what?” Your breath hitches when Taehyung’s hand replaces the crop to run up the length of your spine until he reaches the back of your neck. 

“For your punishment, bun. How many hits do you deserve?” Taehyung asks, his voice with a deep timbre. “Lean forward.” 

Taehyung squeezes the back of your neck and pushes, forcing your upper body down a bit further while you stay kneeling. Lifting the crop, he smacks your ass three times in quick succession, each hit a sharp sting that makes your body jolt. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you struggle to keep your balance. “Is that really necessary?” 

Taehyung clicks his tongue, and even though you can’t see him, you’re sure he has an infuriatingly smug look on his face. 

“Count them,” he murmurs loud enough for the stream to pick up. 

It’s strange how pliant you become with each hit. Something about the pain zaps something in your brain, sending your nervous system haywire until the stings turn into pleasure. Taehyung focuses each hit on the same spot until your skin becomes tender, but he doesn’t stop until your entire body shakes. 

“T-twenty,” you count with a shudder, tears lining your eyelashes and fingers squeezing the ropes on your chest to give you something to hold onto, though it does nothing to ground. 

“Very good.” It’s a simple statement, but Taehyung’s praise does something to you. Either that or it’s the feeling of the crop being dragged over your sore asscheek to dip inward. 

You gasp when Taehyung pushes the crop through your pussy, spreading your lips open and running the crop along your folds. You’re soaking wet and on edge from him spanking you, so the glide is easy for Taehyung as he begins rubbing your clit. The crop is warm from your body heat, and though the shape is sharp and angular, any amount of stimulation feels good. 

“Please,” you beg, bending forward further to expose more of your pussy. 

The ropes around your legs keep your thighs spread, putting you on display for easy access. Even though you can’t see it, you’re sure your arousal glistens in the bright lighting, and you can feel your juices leak down your folds. 

Taehyung runs his thumb through your pussy lips, swishing your arousal around, dragging up and down your clit before he eventually sinks his index and middle fingers into your pussy. 

His name almost slips out when your thighs begin to shake. You want to call out his name and beg him to fuck you, even though everything in you doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction. It’s just too good, and you haven’t fucked since that time with Jimin. Taehyung said it would be better that way to help with your nerves, but now you’re feeling desperate, and you hate the feeling of needing to be filled. 

“Fuck, look at you. You like being tied up like this, don’t you?” Taehyung smirks when he tosses the crop to the side and uses his other hand to stimulate your clit while he continues fucking you with his fingers. 

You moan loudly, completely forgetting about the people watching Taehyung getting on his knees to finger you, twisting each time he pulls out, just to plunge back in and press downward to stimulate your front wall. 

Remembering the rules, you swallow your pride and do what Taehyung wants. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

It’s humiliating to call Taehyung that. You hate it, but you can’t say his real name on air, and this was what he’d told you to call him – or else you’d be punished. He won’t let you cum if you don’t behave. Though you can’t deny how good Taehyung sounds when he groans at the name, nor how good it feels when he speeds up his fingers. 

“Say it again,” Taehyung murmurs, leaning forward to press his bare chest to your back so he can reach your ear. “Baby, say it again.” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Fuck.” 

Grabbing your hips, Taehyung yanks you back so he can switch places with you, now kneeling in front of you. Being on this side gives him a better view of the livestream chat. Whatever he finds there makes him smile, something lopsided and suspicious. 

“They do have a pretty pussy, don’t they?” Taehyung grins into the camera, reaching forward to cup your pussy. He crowds your space, forcing your face against his crotch when he leans in. 

Despite how embarrassing the action is, you mouth at the bulge in his joggers.

“Hurry up,” you whine, knowing Taehyung might scold you but uncaring. “Fuck me already.” 

A slap to your tender ass makes you cry out in pain. 

“Our friends think I need to do something about your bratty mouth, bun,” Taehyung points out with his arms crossed against his firm chest. “They’re right, of course. You’ve always been so bratty with me.” 

“Fuck you,” you hiss quietly, both hoping no one hears you and also that they will.

“You’re cute when you’re acting like a slutty little bitch.” 

Taehyung tongues the inside of his cheek and turns to the box that had held the riding crop. The insults scratch some itch in the back of your brain, and your pussy betrays you by pulsing with need. 

From the box, Taehyung pulls out a pink cordless wand vibrator. The head is smooth and fat, the rest of the wand sleek like Taehyung’s fingers as they grip around the handle. Anticipation burns in the pit of your stomach while you wait for Taehyung to turn the wand on and press it against your swollen, neglected clit. 

Instead, once the wand is on, Taehyung presses against the bulge in his joggers.

“Oh my god,” you moan as Taehyung drags the wand up his cock until he reaches the head. He circles it slowly, hips subtly thrust forward. 

It makes sense that people pay to watch Taehyung masturbate. He’s pretty when he does it, staring directly into your eyes as he whimpers, breathy and sweet.

Each of his little moans makes you wetter, and your body continues to tremble with need. It’s so unbelievably hot how he tilts his head back, exposing the V of his jaw and his Adam’s apple, bobbing each time he swallows. 

“Do you think I’m pretty, bun?” Taehyung smirks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he finally removes the wand from his clothed cock. It’s hard to see the wet patch in his clothes from how dark the material is, but you know it’s there. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper as Taehyung grabs a hold of your jaw and gives you a quick but firm squeeze that pushes your cheeks inward.  

“I know you do.” 

Letting go of your face, Taehyung hooks his thumbs in his joggers and pulls down far enough to take out his cock. It bobs and hangs heavy in front of your face, close enough that the tip brushes your cheek and smears precum across your face. 

“Be a good bun and suck my cock, yeah?” 

Not needing to be told twice, you lean forward to lap at the precum dribbling from Taehyung’s slit, making him groan. His body trembles slightly as you suck him into your mouth, and it feels good to know you’re not the only one affected.

Reaching for the wand again, Taehyung runs the tip along his shaft as you suckle the head of his cock. You can feel the vibrations in your mouth, and the sensation seems to travel down the rest of your body as your pussy pulses. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung moans, throwing his head back as you take more of his cock down your throat. “Don’t go any faster. Keep it nice and slow.” 

He only lets you suck him off for a bit longer, just enough to get his cock nice and wet from gagging around him. Then he tugs on your ropes, pulling you off of his cock as you gasp for air. 

“You okay?” Taehyung brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, wiping away spit and precum, you’re sure. It’s disgusting, but he’s so gentle when he does it that your face grows hot.

“I’m fine.” 

“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. Been thinking about it for weeks.” 

It isn’t until Taehyung cradles the side of your face and slots his lips with yours that you realize you haven’t even kissed. You usually don’t, too caught up in the carnal need to consume each other in other ways.

But kissing Taehyung feels good.

He holds you gently as your lips glide together, Taehyung tasting himself on your tongue and moaning into your mouth when he does. You pant against each other in between kisses, Taehyung using the opportunity to bite and suck on your bottom lip until you’re pushing yourself against him, seeking more. You just want to be close, closer. 

“Turn around,” he breathes against your spit-slicked lips. It isn’t easy, but he helps you move until you’re facing away from him. 

Without being told, you begin to lower your upper body onto the floor, but Taehyung stops you with an arm around your chest. 

“Wait.” It’s spoken against your ear, his breath hot like your core as it pulses when you realize what Taehyung is doing. 

He turns on the wand to the lowest vibration setting and carefully slips it through the rope wrapped around your hips. Placement presses the head of the wand directly to your clit. 

“I can’t,” you squeak, hunching over as the subtle vibrations ripple through you. Normally, the setting would be too low to get you off quickly, but Taehyung has been edging you this whole time. 

“It’s okay if you cum, baby. I wanna see how many times I can make you cum.” 

Taehyung bites the curve of your ear before shoving the middle of your back until your upper body rests on the floor and your ass is in the air. He’s gentle when he presses his cock against your entrance, the glide easy from how sloppy wet you are. You can hear him bottom out, the sound of your arousal gushing around his cock with each wet slap of his thighs against yours as he thrusts in and out of you. 

It only takes three deep strokes before you cum, pussy fluttering around Taehyung’s cock and your body shaking underneath him. The ropes prevent you from wriggling and writhing, and the vibrator on your clit prolongs your orgasm. You feel like it never ends, just wave after wave of pleasure, making your body lock up. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, Tae-” You’re cut off by Taehyung’s hand slapped across your mouth. 

“Behave, bun,” he growls, never letting up his pace despite how violently your body reacts to the prolonged orgasm. 

Grabbing the rope tied around your back, Taehyung pulls on it, forcing you to rock back and forth on his cock at the pace he wants. You’re so wet that he slips in and out of you with wet squelches loud enough to be heard by all his subscribers. 

“Oh my god,” you moan as your body rocks against the pretty sheets and fluffy pink pillows. It helps stop you from chafing against the floor, but you don’t care. All you can focus on is how good Taehyung feels, his cock filling you up and his hands tightening the hold the ropes have on the most sensitive parts of your body. 

“God, you’re always so fucking creamy,” Taehyung groans, slapping your ass to watch it jiggle on his cock. 

You feel another orgasm ripple through you, having barely recovered from the other one. Taehyung fucks you through it still and then fucks you through the next one. 

By the time you’ve cum for the fourth time, tears stream down your face. 

“Please,” you sob, the buzz of the vibrator and Taehyung’s moans flooding your brain until there’s nothing left. 

“One more, bun,” Taehyung grunts as he reaches over to pull the wand out of the ropes. He tosses it to the side and replaces it with his fingers, rubbing quick circles over your clit. “Come on, give me one more so we can finish together.” 

The remaining pressure inside of you bursts the moment Taehyung starts playing with your clit. You feel your pussy gush around his cock as you cum even more than before, so much that you can feel it leak down your thighs and soak the bed sheet below you. 

A flurry of pings reminds you that you’re on camera. You can barely think straight long enough to understand what that means when Taehyung lets out a broken moan behind you. 

“Oh fuck, you just squirted, fuck baby, why are you so hot.” Taehyung’s grip on your hips hurts when he finally cums, still thrusting even when you’ve both been pushed beyond overstimulation. 

When he finally pulls out, you sag to the floor. Your entire body aches from being tied up and pounded into, not to mention how sore your ass and clit are from the constant stimulation. 

“You’re trying to kill me,” you accuse weakly as Taehyung takes a deep breath, head thrown back, chest sweaty. He’s still wearing his joggers, and his soft cock hangs over the waistband, shiny with cum. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, running a hand over his face, “Alright, that’s, that’s all for today.” He crawls over to the laptop and gives the camera a salute. “See you all next week, assuming I’ve recovered.” 

The final pings ring out from the laptop before Taehyung snaps it shut and falls back on his butt. He finally tucks his cock back in his pants and turns to where you lie, weak on the floor. 

“Shit, let me get you out of this.” 

You’re in a haze, something floaty and free, like a cloud, and Taehyung caresses your wispy body as he unwraps you. Your head lulls to the side, and you let Taehyung lift your limbs and shift your body until he’s finished with all the ropes. 

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

Content. Satiated. Happy. In love.

“Tired,” you mumble as you stare up at Taehyung. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are a soft pink, youthful, and pretty. 

“We can take a bath and then go to bed. You’ll stay over?” His voice is a hopeful lilt when he asks, and your stomach flutters. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

Taehyung’s mouth morphs into that lopsided grin you pretend to hate so much. 

“I love it when you call me that.” 

“I hate you,” you spit out, but Taehyung kisses you before you can pout more.

It’s a slow kiss, far too gentle for what you’ve all just finished doing. Taehyung sighs into the kiss, tilting his head to deepen it, though his lips glide languidly rather than rushed with need like they had before. 

You slip your arms around his broad shoulders and appreciate the stretch of being free from your restraints. 

“You did so well, seriously. I’m really proud of you. You were so sexy and, fuck. I’m…” Taehyung trails off as he helps you stand up, keeping you cradled against his body when you start to sway. “Thank you for doing this with me.” 

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and find no bratty comeback, only a flood of happiness that nearly chokes you. 

“Maybe we can do it again if you wanna,” you offer with your lips against his neck. His skin is salty with sweat, but you flick your tongue against him anyway, just to make him squirm. 

Taehyung pulls back slightly to stare at you. “For real?” 

“If you keep asking, I might change my mind!” 

You try to wiggle out of Taehyung’s arms, but he keeps you close. It’s fine; you don’t really want to be anywhere else but here, pressed against Taehyung’s broad frame, blanketed by his gentle attention.

Even if he is annoying. 

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

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Love Me Again | a kth oneshot (m)

Summary: Should a promise get in the way of the only love you’ve ever truly known?

Pairing: Taehyung x fem!reader | Also featuring: PJM, KNJ, JHS, MYG | Genre: non idol au, angst, smut (see warnings below)

Warnings: 🔞 SMUT (m/f inc.unprotected sex) lots of swearing/cursing, minor reference to serious illness |Rating: M ⚠️🔞 Adults only - minors should steer clear of the whole thing🔞⚠️ (all mature content under the cut)

Word count: 14.5K

Note: 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐-𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗! 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 ʟᴀʏᴏ(ꪜ)ᴇʀ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚜, 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚖𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 💛

Unlike the balmy heat of high summer nights, the dying days of summer carry cool breezes through the darkness. The chill that snakes through Taehyung’s room kisses the sweat on his skin, causing him to shudder.

You laugh, a low chuckle, as the sensation moves through your body, your hair brushing his face as he kisses your throat. 

“Taehyung,” you moan, throwing back your head as you sit in his lap, riding him with agonising slowness as he clings to you desperately, his teeth teasing your nipple. He tries to buck up into you, needing to come.

“Behave,” you warn, pushing him onto his back so you can ride him faster, clenching around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moans, his heart swelling at your broad smile of satisfaction, “I love you so fucking much…”

⊛ ⊛ ⊛

The next morning, his alarm wakes him insistently. He stretches his arm out, but he doesn’t need the coolness of the sheets to tell him he’s alone. He drags his sleep-heavy body from his empty bed, stumbling to his shower in the suffocating silence of his apartment.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Mist rises in hazy, shimmering layers, diffusing into the early morning blue. The dew lifted gently from the manicured and too-green fairway by the insistent morning sun. Hyejin shields her eyes from the glare as she looks across the green. Her boyfriend’s friends are scattered about, swinging their clubs absent-mindedly as they chat enthusiastically in the early morning light.

“Why are we playing golf if nearly everyone is terrible at it?” she asks her boyfriend under her breath.

Smiling, Namjoon leans in, “Because we promised Taehyung we would,” he whispers, “And we’re hoping it might lift him out of the rut he’s been in.”

As he speaks, Hyejin looks over at Taehyung, he’s gnawing at his bottom lip as watches Yoongi gamely trying to correct your terrible swing.

“He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying himself,” she says, thinking aloud. Namjoon only grunts in agreement and so she continues in a quiet, confidential tone, “Y’know, this is the first time I’ve seen those two together,” she says, gesturing between you and Taehyung.

“That’s a conversation for later,” Namjoon whispers urgently as Jimin approaches, suspicion written over his face.

Hyejin nods, changing the subject in time for Jimin’s arrival, knowing how protective he is of Taehyung. Nonetheless, as the group work their way around the golf course, the gulf between you and Taehyung becomes more and more clear to her.

That evening, curled into Namjoon on Hobi’s couch, Hyejin takes the opportunity to return to the subject just as Jimin leaves to grab snacks from the nearby convenience store.

Namjoon and Hobi both listen carefully as she asks her questions: why is it that you and Taehyung are so rarely at the same events? Why is it, when you’re both so seemingly well-suited that you’re not friends? Did you used to date? Is your history the reason for the weird energy between you? Will you not be coming to Joon’s dinner party together as she’d assumed?

Namjoon and Hobi share a look of understanding, before Hobi responds, “It’s a strange situation. They used to be really close, but no they’ve never dated. It’s hard to go into the details, but it’s all to do with Taehyung’s ex -“

Jimin, with stealthy grace, reentered the apartment some time ago and chose to listen in instead of interrupting. He likes Hyejin but the way she looked between you and Taehyung on the golf course made him worry about her possible interference in the fraught situation between the two of you. Now he can stand by no longer, entering the room, “They would never work. They’re not meant to be, and pushing that agenda would be a massive mistake. Everyone involved would get hurt,” he says firmly, glaring at all three.

Hyejin flushes with embarrassment; Hobi notices, and seeks to ease the tension, “Don’t worry, it’s already been decided that Taehyung will come to the party with my sister, her husband has a conference that takes him overseas then.”

Hyejin is silenced as the conversation moves on; she doesn’t know why but it feels like somehow the scales of sympathy in this situation are tipped in Taehyung’s favour and she doesn’t understand why. Yes, she likes Taehyung, but she likes you too and cannot understand how you could ever have done anything to annoy Taehyung or to make him not like you. She thinks of you, alone at the party, and her heart goes out to you. 

Matchmaking you and Taehyung may be a bad idea, but Hyejin is a resourceful woman and her mind is already moving onto Plan B.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Hyejin smiles graciously around her guests as she returns from the kitchen with another two bottles of champagne; everyone has been well fed and Namjoon’s friends sit about the apartment in comfortable groups laughing and chatting. She catches Namjoon’s eye, he’s deep in conversation with Jimin and Hobi and he throws her a glowing smile. They’ve only even together a few months but it’s quickly grown serious, the two of them looking for the same commitment and she’s feels accepted by this group of his friends, as he is by hers. That thought in mind, her eyes seek out her friend Hyungsik, but his attention is occupied. She’s pleased to see Hyungsik sitting so closely to you, in chairs opposite each other, your knee resting against his as he leans towards you to be closer, his gaze and attention rapt. She had been confident that setting the two of you up would be a success and she’s thrilled that she was right to be.

Noticing your empty glasses she approaches, “More champagne?” she asks.

Hyungsik nods but you cover the mouth of your glass, “No more for me, thanks. I have a early start on things tomorrow and I’m feeling a little bit lightheaded.”

“Are you sure that’s not just Hyungsik?” she teases.

Both of you blush sweetly. Making insincere apologies, she moves on toward a group standing at the wall. They’re all laughing about something, except Taehyung, who seems to be trying to burn a hole through the back of Hyungsik’s head.

Blocking his laser-gaze, Hyejin offers him a top up and is surprised to see him accept it and down it in one gulp. Filling his glass again, she asks him if he’s ok, and only receives a gruff reply as he excuses himself to the kitchen.

The tone of their conversation clearly caught your attention, and with a smile you excuse yourself from Hyungsik, following Taehyung to the kitchen. All eyes turn to the scene and Hyejin notices Namjoon lay a hand on Jimin’s arm to stop him following. Spying Hyungsik’s look of confusion, Hyejin takes your seat and quickly distracts him explaining the apparent bad blood between you and Taehyung as she understands it..

You enter the kitchen to be greeted by Taehyung’s back as he stares out the window pointlessly; all there is to be scene against the darkness of the night is the reflection of the room behind him. You hear him audibly sigh as he watches your reflection enter.

“Taehyung…” you begin, unsure of what to say now that your here. You followed him on instinct, years of friendship and being attuned to his feelings and moods compelling you to follow him.

He doesn’t turn, “Yeah?” he replies, the one syllable coloured with boredom.

“What’s going on?” you ask bluntly, “You and I used to be so close. I know you’ve made it clear that you don’t want that anymore… I’m really am trying to respect your feelings, but I don’t understand what I’ve done and I want to.”

He turns to face you, “We just don’t hang out as much,” he says flatly, “There’s nothing more to it than that.”

You take in his heavy-lidded disinterested gaze and downturned mouth, “Taehyung, it’s more than that. We used to do everything together and now you barely speak to me. When you look at me, like now, it’s like you can’t wait to get away from me. Did I do something wrong? If I did, please tell me. I just want to fix it - I want to be friends again.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong. We’re still friends,” is all the reply he makes, rolling his eyes slightly.

You grit your teeth as annoyance begins to build in you, and you gesture from you to him, “This here is not what I’d call friendship, Taehyung. This has been going on for nearly a year now. Ever since you broke up with Hana you’ve been like this - things have been weird since she left. You never even told me what happened with you two… If I haven’t done anything wrong then why won’t you open up to me? Please let me in, maybe I can help? I can see you’re not happy, Tae.”

He rolls his eyes more obviously this time, “I’m not unhappy,” he lies, “Look, when Hana and I broke up I had to reevaluate a lot of things and I realised I wasn’t very happy about our friendship, I was too dependent on you and so I decided to give us more space. It’s that simple.”

You frown a little and can’t help but cock your head in confusion, “I wish you’d spoken to me first - I’ve never thought that. It meant a lot to me that you trusted me and my opinion- “

“It wasn’t just that,” Taehyung interrupts, “You were too dependent on me too. Sometimes I just found it a bit suffocating. Like I said, I need space. I need to be able to breathe.”

You can’t control the tremble of your lower lip as his words hit home.  Your eyes fill as Taehyung makes an awkward face and he seems to have a funny sort of spasm, like he intends to comfort you but decides that it’s better not to.

“I understand,” you say, you voice small, any irritation in you diminished, “I didn’t realise that was how things were. I wish you’d said something sooner. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says more kindly, “I think it’s better like it is now.”

Your eyes meet, his are uncomfortable, yours are pained. You make an odd kind of gesture behind you as though you’re gesturing to an invisible force beckoning you from the room; your body feels strange, and slightly out of your control, “Well, yeah,” you stutter awkwardly as the need to cry begins to overwhelm you. You feel horribly embarrassed and barely recognise the man in front of you as the Taehyung you’ve known for years, “Sorry to have bothered you - I best get back…” you say, as though speaking to a stranger. Your voice catches slightly on the last syllable as you turn from the room on numb legs, heading away from your friends and to the solitude of the bathroom instead.

Moments later, Jimin joins him in the kitchen, his face tight, as Hobi moves through the hallway in pursuit of you, concern etched over his kind face.

Hyejin watches Taehyung return to the main room long after Hobi brought you back in, he looks pale, his jaw tense. He’s quick to look away from Hobi who glares across the room at him like he could skin him alive, though Taehyung doesn’t miss the damp patch on Hobi’s shoulder and the slight smudge of mascara against the grey fabric. 

Taehyung’s eyes seek you out; and he finds you chatting with with Hyungsik, the taller man towering over you. He’s unnecessarily tall, Taehyung thinks spitefully, Too tall for you. Though you’re smiling, he knows it’s false, he knows you too well not to recognise it: your weak smile doesn’t reach your noticeably puffy eyes. You seem to be agreeing to something Hyungsik’s suggesting before you and he separate; you head towards Namjoon, while Hyungsik approaches Hyejin, who is close enough to Taehyung for him to be able to hear every word.

“Hey, thanks for a lovely evening,” Hyungsik smiles, reminding her of your early start in the morning, “So we’re going to head off. I’ll take her home and make sure she’s ok, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” Hyejin smiles, touching his arm, “I hope you two had a nice evening together?”

He beams in response, “We’ve only known each other a little while,” he smiles, “But I am definitely glad you introduced us. You were right, we really do get along -“

So, Hyejin set you two up, Taehyung realises, How patronising of her, you don’t need her help to find someone, especially this lanky, too-smiley guy. It’s the first time he’s felt or thought anything negative towards Hyejin, and he feels momentarily embarrassed. Both his thoughts and Hyungsik’s explanation are interrupted by your approach. You thank Hyejin, are generous in your praise for her cooking and the evening. Then, taking Hyungsik’s arm, you offer a quick goodbye to those around, skimming over Taehyung with the smallest of nods, and you leave with your new friend.

Hyejin can’t help but look at Taehyung, his face stoney and impassive, giving away no emotion. He’s a good actor, she admits, But his performance isn’t perfect… noticing his white knuckles as he strangles the stem of his glass.

Later, when everyone has left, Hobi, who has stayed to help clear up, spills everything to Hyejin. He’s seen her concern for you, her well-intentioned interference between you and Taehyung. He judges it wisest to tell her the truth that Taehyung won’t even tell you before her well-meaning but ultimately disastrous interventions make everything worse.

He explains that, as Namjoon earlier confirmed, it all began with Taehyung’s ex, Hana. Their relationship had always been volatile and before they broke up they had been having serious problems for a while, largely focused around his friendship with you and her suspicion of it. They were on the verge of breaking up when she fell ill, seriously ill. 

Hobi explains the whole situation, “So you see, when she realised that she wouldn’t get better she didn’t want to stay here, but wanted to return to her family. She wanted Taehyung’s last memories of her not to be so sad, so they called it a day.”

Hyejin nods, “That’s awful, poor girl. Poor Tae….” she sympathises, “But how has that ruined his friendship?”

Hobi purses his lips, unsure if he should go on, “Well, you see, she knew that Taehyung would be her last relationship and even though it was ending, she said she wanted it to have meaning. She asked him to make her a promise, not to let the person who came between them be the ending to their story.”

Hyejin nods, “She asked him to end his friendship?”

Hobi squints a little, “Not exactly, she asked him not to get together with her.”

Hyejin frowns, “So why has he cut her out completely?”

Hobi thinks for a moment, “Taehyung and I have never had an honest conversation about this so I can only speculate, but I think Hana was on to something. Their friendship was close and even though nothing was going on, anyone with eyes could tell there were feelings there on both sides. I think when Hana asked that, Taehyung realised what his feelings were. I’m not sure if it was the promise, or guilt, or confusion, but when Hana left that’s when he started to freeze her out until they got to where they’re at now.”

“That’s so sad,” Hyejin says, shaking her head, “So that’s it? There’s no hope for them? How is Hana now?”

Hobi scratches his neck, “Nobody knows, she blocked and ghosted him when she left. The rest of us barely knew her, she never really hung out with us. I think what she asked of him was wrong, but given her situation I don’t want to judge her.”

Hyejin nods, “No, me either,” she admits, chewing her lip, “Jeez, what a mess.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

An ocean of clouds, stretching to the horizon, drifts beneath Taehyung; the plastic that was so soothingly cool minutes ago, now presses, painful and warm, against his head. Reluctantly he tears his eyes from the small frame of the world below and leans his head back into the soft cushion of his head rest, closing his eyes with a heavy breath.

“Are you ok?” Jimin asks softly beside him.

“Hmm,” Taehyung hums, “Just thinking.”

“About Hana?” Jimin prompts. Yes, thinks Taehyung, He was thinking of Hana for a moment, but then of you. When isn’t he thinking of you nowadays? When Taehyung doesn’t reply, Jimin presses him, “Will you look her up?”

Taehyung opens his eyes and rolls his head to meet Jimin’s concerned face, “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know yet. I don’t even know where on Jeju she lives. I don’t think she’d want to see me, especially if she’s really ill. I wouldn’t want to upset her.”

Across the aisle and down a row or two, Hyungsik’s gentle laugh drifts back, “How do you feel about him being here this weekend?”

Taehyung shrugs, “It is what it is. Keeps her busy, I suppose.”

Jimin nods, “Makes things easier.”

Taehyung nods while his heart seems to constrict: It doesn’t make anything easier, not really, he thinks, all it is is another blow to his already bruised heart.

When the plane has landed, he’s glad to find that he doesn’t need to share a taxi to the villa that has been booked out for Hobi’s birthday with you. When the fleet of taxis arrive to nobody’s real surprise, workaholic Yoongi has already arrived and brought his dedicated assistant with him, which throws the rooming plans into disarray. Taehyung is relieved to find he keeps his single room, whilst you, ever magnanimous, agree to share the double with Yoongi’s assistant whilst Hyungsik shares the twin with Yoongi. The poor girl initially protests that she doesn’t mind sharing the twin with her boss, but you know her boyfriend won’t appreciate it, and it’s likely that Yoongi will wake her in the small hours of the morning with work ideas. Taehyung’s careful to keep his expression neutral, disguising the momentary happiness he feels at you and Hyungsik being separated.

After unpacking, you all settle into the villa. It’s been weeks since Taehyung’s seen you and he wonders how you’ll respond to him. It doesn’t take him long to find out. In the kitchen he finds you stacking the fridge, trying to be helpful he picks up the last few items on the counter top to pass to you. Sensing someone behind you, you turn and face him; he finds that the chill from the open fridge has nothing on that emanating from you.

“Thanks,” you offer tersely, taking the items from him and turning your back on him. He hovers for a moment, and without turning again you dismiss him, “I’ve got this, you can get on with whatever you were doing.”

Taehyung is surprised, you’ve never been like this with him. In fact, he’s never seen you like this with anyone, you’re always so polite, even to people you can’t stand, but now your tone of voice cuts like jagged glass. He says your name gently, persuasively, “Can’t we be civil? For Hobi’s sake?”

Finished with the fridge and out of excuses, you turn to look at him, “This is me being civil, Taehyung,” you say levelly, “We’re not friends, why should I be friendly with you?”

“Maybe I went too far that night,” he admits, “I get that you’re pissed at me, but this is for Hobi, can’t we get along?”

“Apologise.”

“Sorry?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“That’s a question, not an apology,” you state patiently, “If you want to play nicely this week then you should apologise for how rude you were to me. I’m sorry that my friendship was so hard to bear, but I know I was a good friend to you for fucking years Taehyung, despite what you might think now. And how did you repay the years where you actually valued my friendship before it became a burden to you? Did you have an honest conversation with me? No! Instead, you ghosted me like some kind of sad, clingy girlfriend and then tried to gaslight me about it. I deserved, I deserve , more respect than that.”

Taehyung watches as you take a deep breath, clearly relieved at having unburdened yourself. He knows what you’re like, knows you must have rehearsed this moment nervously, preparing to confront him. He can see the nervous energy pumping through you. He wants to tell you that he’s proud of you for standing up for yourself, but he knows you don’t want to hear that from him of all people so he’s silent for a moment, while you relax after the surge of adrenaline.

“I’m sorry,” he affirms honestly, “I behaved badly and -”

“Thank you,” you interrupt, “Let’s be civil then,” you leave without looking at him again and his heart aches. Outside the kitchen, you pass Hyungsik, who turns to follow you, winking his approval to you after being the audience for the rehearsals of your speech.

Later in the evening, Taehyung is clearing the dishes after dinner with Yoongi, and he can’t stop himself bringing you up. You and Hyungsik missed dinner, maybe Yoongi, sharing a room with your boyfriend, will have answers. Taehyung burns to know; somehow your absence is more painful than your presence.

“I dunno,” Yoongi shrugs, “They were going for a walk, maybe they decided to eat out? Maybe they just want some private time together because they can’t share a room? You know the early stages of relationships…” he suggests sensibly.

The turmoil within Taehyung is anything but sensible, “I guess,” he mutters though it feels like the words choke him.

“Hmm,” nods Yoongi. For long moments, nothing is said as they wash, dry and sort dishes. Eventually, as they finish up, Yoongi lowers his voice, “Look, Tae, if you ever want to talk about whatever has happened, you can talk to me.”

Taehyung is confused, “What do you mean?” he asks, laughing to dispel his unease.

Yoongi’s face is poker straight, “I’m not an idiot, Tae. I can tell how jealous you are of Hyungsik and I’ve suspected for a long time how you feel about her. I’m not going to say anything to anyone, but if you want to talk, you know where to find me,” with a firm clap to Taehyung’s shoulder, he leaves a stricken Taehyung in his wake.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Hyejin directs her face to the cloudless sky, bathing in the warmth of the sun. Beside her, you stretch your cramped legs, “It’s taking him a long time - do you think I should help him?” you offer.

“I’ll go,” Hyungsik and Namjoon offer simultaneously, but Hyungsik is already climbing out of the back of the Jeep, “Oh wait, here he comes,” he says, sounding confused.

An ashen Hobi clambers behind the steering wheel, saying nothing.

“Where are the ice creams?” Namjoon asks, “Is everything ok?”

“We have to go back to the villa, I need to talk to Taehyung,” is all he can offer. He glances at you as he looks back over his shoulder to reverse out, offering an explanation that silences everyone, “Hana’s here.”

You feel instantly sick.

When you arrive back, Hobi disappears with Jimin into Tae’s room and a hushed, uncomfortable quiet descends over the villa until Taehyung emerges, the keys to the jeep clutched in his fist before he hares off in the direction of the town.

After long hours, when everyone else is in bed, Jimin heads out with Hobi to look for Taehyung. They’ve not been gone long when he returns, and stalks past you and Hyungsik, the two of you cuddled under a blanket on the veranda.

“Go and talk to him,” Hyungsik encourages, “I know you’re worried about him and I think he might need a friend.”

“We’re not friends,” you argue, “I doubt he wants to see me.”

“I think he needs you,” Hyungsik insists, “We wouldn’t still be on this veranda in the cold waiting for him to get back if you didn’t care,” he reasons sensibly. You take  a moment to think; ever since you arrived you’ve felt on edge. It’s not just your crossed words with Taehyung previously, it’s that, after all this time, you’re still weak for him. Seeing him at the airport in his loose sleeveless tee and ripped jeans, all insouciant cool with his tousled blond hair, you found it hard to keep your eyes off him; you hate that he has that effect on you. Nonetheless, your crush to one side, and your argument, you cannot deny the years of friendship that all to you. Your love for Taehyung is settled deep within your bones, an undeniable part of yourself written into your very marrow. You can’t let him suffer alone. With a huff, you reluctantly trail Taehyung to his room.

His bedroom door is ajar, and his face is drawn and agonised as he paces aimlessly. You hover in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to say, “Taehyung, is there anything I can do?”

He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes a tempest of warring emotions. Then, without a word he reaches for the door, catching the edge in his fingertips, and slams it in your face, the wood missing your face by mere centimetres. You yelp in shock and begin to cry instinctively, staggering backwards. Hyungsik is quick to rush to you, guiding you away and back to the veranda.

“Let’s take a walk,” he suggests gently, “Don’t cry, it’s ok… Let’s go to the beach, yeah?”

Behind his shut door, Taehyung listens as silent tears track down his cheeks.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

The next day, Taehyung’s door remains locked. When lunchtime comes and goes, Jimin decides he’s had enough, grabbing the keys and heading to the ice cream parlour for himself. 

He strides into the parlour, prepared for anything and there she is: Kwon Hana, the architect of Taehyung’s unhappiness. She is smiling brightly behind the counter in her neat pink uniform, her cheeks rosy, the picture of good health.

Her bright smile only falls when she recognises Jimin, “Great, now you too,” she complains, “Meet me outside, I’m on my break in 15.”

When she emerges, he’s tempted to squash the ice cream she brings him all across her white apron, but he restrains himself. He doesn’t thank her, instead intoning sarcastically, “I see you’ve had a miraculous recovery, Hana…”

With a roll of her eyes she admits everything. She’s petulant and largely unapologetic, “I’ve already had this conversation with Taehyung, Jimin,” she complains, “Yeah, it was wrong to lie, blah blah blah, but it’s done now.”

He pushes her and she capitulates, telling the whole story of her break up with Taehyung: she had known that her and Taehyung were on the rocks, she just wanted to get away, to return home to her family and so, upset and jealous, she lied. She couldn’t bear the thought that with her out of the picture, Taehyung would obviously find his way to the arms of his friend, the one he was so clearly hung up on. Spitefully, she blames you and Taehyung, arguing that you two were so obvious and made her feel terrible and jealous - was it so bad to want revenge?

Disgusted, Jimin discards his melting ice cream, shaking the drips from his hand, “You are an awful person,” he states, shocked that she could be so cruel. Shaking his head despairingly, he heads back to the villa to talk to Taehyung.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

The villa is empty, a peaceful silence laying over it: everyone is at the beach or out somewhere doing something else. Taehyung doesn’t care, he’s grateful to be left alone. He lies in bed, the sheet pulled over his head as he mulls over everything that happened yesterday.

He ignores the soft knocks at his door, even when the door opens and closes gently before someone slips inside. He says nothing as the sheet is lifted and a warm body slides into the bed, spooning against his back, a hand creeping across the bare skin of his chest to rest on his heart.

Warm lips press into his shoulder, “Taehyung, everything is going to be ok,” you whisper.

He turns then, pulling you closer to him, his hungry mouth finding yours. He groans when he finds you responsive, pulling him closer. His hands yank at your clothes, desperate to feel your bare skin against his. He thrusts his thigh between yours and you grind on it, gasping with pleasure into his mouth. Smiling, he bites at your lip before a harder knock at the door pulls his attention.

“Shhh,” you whisper, giggling into his mouth, “Just ignore it, I need you, Tae…” Taehyung smiles back at you, closing his eyes and kissing you deeply.

Another insistent knock comes, then the door opens. Taehyung’s eyes fly open as the sheet is pulled from over his head, “Taehyung, wake up!” Jimin almost shouts.

Taehyung groans and rolls onto his back, careful to pull the sheet into a protective ball over his crotch, concealing his throbbing erection.

Jimin, who wasn’t born yesterday, smirks, “Oh, did I interrupt a good dream? Sorry…”

Taehyung flushes, “Don’t worry,” he mutters. He means it; the dream is not a rare one. Over the years of your friendship, he’s lost count of all the different ways you and he have fucked in his sleeping mind. The wet dreams he can handle, what destroys him though is the grief of waking: in all his dreams the two of you aren’t just fucking, you are in love, and the absence of that when he joins the conscious world is a heavy blow to his heart.

“Time to get up,” Jimin insists, “We need to talk about Hana, I’ve just come from seeing her. She told me what she told you, or so she says. Are you ok?”

“Everything’s fucked,” Taehyung sighs, sitting up and burying his head in his hands, as he recounts pretty much the same conversation Jimin had with her. Stretching uncomfortably, Taehyung admits he really needs to talk to you, but doesn’t know what to say.

“After you slammed a door in her face?” Jimin asks. When Taehyung looks confused, Jimin shrugs, “Hyungsik told me last night.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung admits, “I have to apologise for that, but that’s easier than the rest of what I have to say. Y’know, when I’d spoken to Hana, I sat in the car park processing it and couldn’t stop staring at this little furniture store down the road. Then I started crying and I couldn’t stop.”

Jimin sits on the edge of the bed and smiles sympathetically, “Was it the furniture or Hana that upset you more?”

Taehyung laughs, “Neither,” he explains before elaborating. He tells Jimin about a time that you, Yoongi and he went to a furniture store with Namjoon to help him find a new desk. Taehyung explains that it was years ago, when he was really poor and hungry in search of a job. You must have noticed his sad gaze as he watched Yoongi finish snacks in the car, or his rumbling stomach. Either way, when you all arrived, you made a big fuss about needing to use a bathroom, explaining that you were getting your period. Taehyung knew it was a lie, because you’d had it the week before, you’d watched movies all weekend together with a hot water bottle… 

He goes on to explain that you insisted the convenience store opposite the furniture store didn’t look safe and asked Taehyung to come with you. Uncomfortable with the period talk, Yoongi and Namjoon decided to start browsing without you whilst Taehyung followed you. When he got into the store, you made up some excuse about needing to spend a certain amount before they’d let you use the toilet, so you’d bought him his favourite ramyeon and snacks.

“The thing was,” Taehyung says, his voice catching a little, “There were so many ways to feed me, but she chose the one that made it seem like she owed me something, as though she was repaying me for a favour. She knew I’d be embarrassed and concocted this clever plan. She always did things like that, always looked out for me…” he trails off.

Jimin smiles gently, “You guys were really good friends, I know. Maybe now that the Hana curse is lifted you can be her friend again without feeling guilty?” 

Taehyung shakes his head sadly, “That’s not it,” he explains, his lower lip trembling slightly, “I was single back then, she’d just started dating some guy she worked with, but even then I knew . She did that for me, and I made sure she knew that I was grateful but I was still a coward - I should have just told her then.”

“Told her what?” Jimin asks, nonplussed.

Taehyung, fraught with emotion, doesn’t really process Jimin’s words, instead his thoughts continue to spill freely from his lips, “How do I explain myself now, though? What do I say? ‘Hey, I know you’ve got Hyungsik who you obviously are really happy with, but I love you more than life itself and thought maybe you’d chuck it all in for me even though I couldn’t ever sacrifice anything for you?’ Yeah…” he scoffs, “Can’t see her buying that…”

Jimin stares at him, mouth open.

“What?” Taehyung asks, confused.

“ What?! ” Jimin shrieks, repeating Taehyung’s question in a strangled, squeaky voice, causing Taehyung to flinch. Clearing his throat, Jimin continues, “You love her? What? I thought Hana was upset with you because you had a bit of a crush on her, I know there was always a tension between you two, but I didn’t know that you’d been pining over her for years! You were really in love with her? All that time? You still are?”

Taehyung is the opposite of the unsettled Jimin. With the truth exposed, he feels calm and rational, “Of course I did and I still do,” he says calmly, “And now there are no more promises to keep, but how can I tell her? Hyungsik isn’t going anywhere, the lanky smug bastard.”

Jimin gapes at him, “Get dressed, we need to assemble and get this all out in the open.”

⊛ ⊛ ⊛

On the beach, Namjoon, Hyejin, Hobi, Yoongi and Jimin sit in a circle, waiting for Taehyung. When he arrives, exhausted and tense, Jimin unfolds the whole sorry tale from start to finish, ending with Taehyung’s dilemma.

Hyejin interrupts, “I think you have the wrong dilemma,” she explains, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but can I be frank with you?”

Taehyung nods, “Go ahead.”

“The real dilemma should be how you come back from how you’ve treated her, not whether she is with someone else or not, which she isn’t anyway.”

Taehyung nods, “I know, I know I’ve got loads to make up for, wait -“ he pauses, eyes-widening, “What do you mean she’s not with anyone?”

Hyejin smiles, “She’s not with Hyungsik, never has been - they’re just friends. Can I be honest again?” Taehyung nods again, waving a hand permissively, “They never clicked romantically but they became friends really quickly, almost like there was this void in her life where a best friend had been…” she intones a little sarcastically.

“Ok, ok, ok,” Taehyung nods, “I get it…” 

Satisfied, Hyejin continues, “I’m not sure if they’re as close as you two once were, but they are really good friends. He’s good for her; she’s good for him. I was rooting for them. I hoped that their friendship might turn into something more.”

Taehyung groans, “I don’t know what to do,” he says, panicking, “I want her to be happy but I want to be the man who makes that happen, not him, no matter how nice he is…”

Hobi smiles gently, “Well, let’s take some time to figure it out. There’s lots of time.”

Taehyung is jittery in response, “I need to see her though. I have to apologise for last night. I need to see her! Where is she?”

Furtive looks pass around his friends, but it’s Namjoon who breaks the news, “She’s gone, Tae,” Taehyung sits stock still as he looks to him for further explanation. Namjoon elaborates, “After last night she realised something big had gone down between you and Hana and decided that it would be better if she wasn’t around. She might not know the truth, but she knew she was an issue for Hana, so she thought it best to go.”

“Where?” is all Taehyung can utter.

“They’ve gone to Busan - Hyungsik has family there and they wanted to continue their holiday so they’re going there instead,” Hyejin explains.

“On holiday with his family?” Taehyung asks, his voice unnaturally high, “Are you sure there’s nothing between them because it feels like visiting the family is a couple thing. A holiday with the family is the kind of time when people fall for each other - you see it all the time in stupid romantic movies!”

“Calm down, Taehyung,” Yoongi says calmly, “You’re spiralling.”

Hyejin speaks kindly, “Is that how you fell for her? On a holiday?”

Taehyung smiles despite himself, “No, that wasn’t it,” he admits.

“When was it then, Tae?” Yoongi prompts, “How long have you known?”

“I’ve always loved her,” he confesses, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love her, it’s been so long. It was never our time though, she was dating or I was, or we both were. Our timelines have never aligned.”

“Until now,” Yoongi suggests, “They do now .”

Taehyung grins, smiling beatifically and crying floods of tears at the same time, in an outpouring of years of repressed feeling. Beside him, Jimin pulls him into a hug, letting Taehyung cry it out as his friends encircle and support him.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Taehyung’s phone feels heavy in his hand as he waits for you to reply to his apology and request to talk. When his phone eventually buzzes, he can barely bring himself to read it, raising his phone to unlock with trembling hands: 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 - 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘬. 𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘪𝘬’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘞𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩? 𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘢, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘑𝘦𝘫𝘶!

He passes the phone silently to Jimin, who shows it to Hyejin, “Are you sure she’s just friends with Hyungsik?” Jimin asks nervously.

Taehyung is paying no attention, all he can think of is your devastated face that night in Namjoon’s kitchen when he told you that you suffocated him and his gut twists in shame. He fears that Hyejin was right earlier: his real dilemma is finding a way back after how he’s treated you.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

A woman with thin eyebrows and a line for a mouth flares her nostrils, a warning prequel to the snort of disapproval that follows. Taehyung doesn’t care, her judgement means nothing to him and it does nothing to stop the nervous tattoo that his long fingers beat against the Formica table.

Behind the counter, the elderly couple that run the little canteen (calling it a restaurant would be generous) shuffle about, clearly watching him and speculating about what would make such a fine young man so terribly nervous.

It’s taken weeks to get to this moment; ever since you all returned from holiday you’ve solidly avoided him, coming up with excuse after excuse why you can’t. Eventually, through the interference of your mutual friends, you have been cajoled into meeting him briefly at this little canteen. 

Suddenly, the old woman nudges her husband in the ribs as the young man suddenly stops, frozen in mid movement. It’s a strange thing, in his frozen state that he looks more alive than he did when he was thrumming with movement: his eyes sparkle as a wide, square smile lights up his face and squeezes his eyes closed in an expression of pure joy. They both turn their attention to the door where a woman, visibly nervous, moves towards him.The  elderly couple share a knowing look that simply says ‘young love.’

At Taehyung’s table, the conversation is stiff and awkward, he asks you about Hyungsik, baiting questions designed to make you confess that the two of you aren’t together, but they all fail, leaving him only a direct path.

“It’s a big stage meeting the boyfriend’s family,” he says gently, “I hope they treated you well.”

“It’s not like that between us,” you admit quietly, “His family were lovely though. They’re all like him - generous, kind, thoughtful people.”

Taehyung nods, “Oh, well as long as you’re happy. I thought that he seemed very interested in you.”

You hum thoughtfully, evading his prying questions. How do you tell Taehyung that Hyungsik quickly dismissed the idea of anything romantic happening between you two? That he told you early on that he had too much self-respect to be the back-up option to an unavailable man? You can’t say that, so you say nothing.

“May I ask about Hana?” you say tentatively and he flinches to hear the trepidation in your voice, your words edged with the memories of how he’s spoken to you each time she’s come up.

He frowns, “Hana never made me happy. I don’t want to go into why our ending was so complicated, but it was and it never should have been. I’ve wasted so much time because of her. She is a terrible person.”

You look at him in confusion, wondering where all this could be coming from. You’re surprised by how much he seems to dislike her until you remember how he’s spoken to you in the past. Is this how he’s spoken about you to others? Have he and Jimin sat together while he explains how needy and irritating he finds you? You feel sick at the thought. Collecting yourself, you swallow and force yourself to speak, “Well, I’m glad you’re able to move on now.”

Taehyung smiles, “I am,” he reaches for your hand, “I have a lot of things to put right too. You and I have a lot of things to talk about.”

Cold panic curls in your gut. There’s something in his eyes and the touch of his hand that suggests there’s more to his words. Hyungsik’s words drift through your mind and you realise you feel the same: you don’t want to be Taehyung’s second best, his leftover option.

“Well,” you say gently, sliding your hand from under his, “We don’t need to rush anything, our friendship will regrow naturally. I’m happy for you though, that you can start having fun again and dating. I hope you meet someone that makes you happier than she did.”

Waves of nausea roll over Taehyung as he realises what you’re saying. You are rejecting him, you may be doing so gently, but the meaning couldn’t be clearer. You don’t want him and you don’t want his friendship. His eyes fill as you make excuses about why you need to go, shrug on your coat as you say you’ll catch up soon. You wish him well and leave, in a hurried dervish of action. 

Heart throbbing in pain, he calls Jimin and recounts the disaster that has been his botched confession and your rejection, “You should have heard her breezing out of here cheerfully, like she didn’t just break my fuck-, break my heart,” he hisses, remembering where he is. When he hangs up, promising Jimin he’ll head straight over, his attention is called by the old woman, who tells him that you paid for his snacks and drink when you left, but maybe too much.

“My eyes aren’t what they used to be,” she says kindly, “Could you check these numbers?” Oddly, instead of passing him the receipt, she leads him around the counter and he does as she asks.

Confirming all is in order, he begins to move away but she holds his sleeve, her eyes flickering to the monitor beside the till several times, “Sometimes things are not what they seem,” she whispers.

Taehyung looks at the screen, his pulse racing as he turns to the old woman, “Where’s that alley?”

“Directly behind us, she didn’t make it far,” she replies, indicating at the CCTV of the rear alley where you lean against the wall, hand clutching your heart as you cry your eyes out, “Go on then, get after her!”

Taehyung nods, gathering his things and rushing out. Yet, as he turns the corner, he watches you emerge from the alley, slipping into a car that’s just pulled up. The door closes with a dull thunk before he can even say your name.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Hobi, Namjoon and Yoongi meet at the entrance to Taehyung’s apartment, wondering together why they have been summoned with such desperation by Jimin, fearing Taehyung may have done something stupid.

Jimin answers the door with a grateful smile, “Thank God you’re here. He’s driving me absolutely crazy. Prepare yourselves.”

Over the next few hours they pour over the situation with you from every angle, each of them concluding something different. Namjoon thinks Taehyung should listen to you and let things grow naturally, letting love blossom again; Hobi thinks Taehyung should try again and confess everything, especially about Hana, certain that love will find a way; Jimin thinks Taehyung should let you go. It’s Yoongi who speaks last.

“I think there are two questions you need an answer to first before you can even choose the best thing to do,” he explains, whilst Taehyung listens, rapt, “Did she love you before and, if she did, does she still love you now?”

Taehyung swallows, “I don’t know the answer to either of those things.”

With the smallest clear of his throat, Hobi shuffles his feet awkwardly, “I know the answer to the first one,” he admits.

Taehyung looks at him with desperate eyes and Hobi recounts a moment with you.

“Ok, so one night we’d been out, all of us. You and Hana had been arguing in the club and we could all guess who it was about you know who… So she just wanted to get out of there, to stop things escalating and to remove the problem, I guess. She only ever thought of you, Tae, what you needed, what would make things easier for you…”

Tae’s eyes well up as he nods his understanding, pleading for Hobi to go on.

“So we decided to go eat noodles and then I’d walk her home. We didn’t talk about you very much, we drank a lot more outside the convenience store and we’re both quite drunk by the time we were getting to her house. Anyway, as she was unlocking her door she said that she felt bad for you and Hana and wished you two would be happier. I guess I must have looked a little surprised because she laughed and said, ‘I know you know, Hobi!’ I played dumb, but then she said it straight out, what was it she said? I think it was, ‘I know everyone probably knows how I feel about him. You don’t have to feel sorry for me, I realised years ago that it was never going to happen. It’s fine, I still want him to be happy though.’ It was something like that. I tried to talk to her about it, but she said that it had to remain an unspoken thing or your friendship would fall apart, so we agreed never to speak of it again, and we never have.”

A moment of silence falls over them before Jimin speaks, “I’d like to change my position - I agree with Namjoon now.”

Yoongi looks at Taehyung and sees the hope kindled in his eyes, ‘Actually, I’m with Hobi,” he asserts, “Talk to her, both of you should be totally honest with each other and take it from there.”

“I don’t think I can persuade her into meeting me again,” Taehyung admits.

Hobi smiles, “Don’t worry. I can set something up.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

“Ok, ok,” Hobi begins over the phone, “I called her and I know where she is right now.”

A short conversation follows, where Taehyung mostly reassures Hobi he’s doing the right thing by deceiving you and that it’s for the best. Taehyung thanks him and as soon as he hangs up he looks up the café where Hobi has said you are, having never heard of it. Despite his best intentions, since your disastrous meeting, you’ve been hard to find; the listing for the bookshop with a tiny café explains why; you’ve obviously taken to hanging out on the other side of the city. Taehyung wonders if maybe he should take a hint from that… Does it mean that you want to be far away from him? He concludes that, ultimately, it doesn’t matter. He can’t let go of you; if you want rid of him you’re going to have to tell him that to his face.

When he’s finally crossed the city, he follows the map on his phone with single-minded determination; he’s worried you won’t still be there by the time he arrives. How much time can anyone while away in such a place? Yet, as he climbs the rickety spiral staircase edged with books that the heavily burdened shelves can’t accommodate, he realises that you could easily spend hours here. Following the gentle aroma of sweet, spiced tea, he finds the small café at the back of the second floor; it looks over a park where the fanned leaves of ginkgo are now edged in gold.

You don’t notice his arrival, your head is pressed to the glass as you stare outside; your headphones are in and you are lost in thought. He crosses to you quietly and takes a seat, which you finally take notice of out of the corner of your eye. As you turn, he watches the emotions play out across your face; surprise, worry, panic.

With fumbling fingers you remove your headphones as he smiles, “Sorry for startling you,” he apologises as you drop your headphones, “I didn’t mean to make you flustered.”

You blush then, “I didn’t expect to see you-, see anyone, here,” you mumble, correcting yourself.

“Have I invaded your sanctuary?” he asks, half-teasingly, half-genuinely.

You smile weakly, “A little, but it’s ok. What are you doing here?” you ask, still too puzzled and flustered to notice how blunt you’re being.

He presses his lips together, “Ah, yes… I’m sorry, but I think I might fluster you again,” he apologises, noticing the look of panic flash across your eyes again, “I came here to find you because we have more to talk about and I want to know why, when I suggested that you and I needed to talk about us, that you shot me down without any hesitation.”

You stare at him, open-mouthed at his bold statement. You have no idea how to deal with his frankness without being honest yourself, so you try to take a gamble, “I didn’t understand where it could be leading, the words you were using sounded…” you trail off as your courage fails you, trying to avoid saying what you mean.

“Where I was leading?” he repeats, “Ah, saying we need to talk about ‘us’ sounded like I meant something more than friends? Like I meant something romantic?” he prompts, wanting to help you out and desperate to lead the conversation to where he wants it to go.

“Well, yes,” you say awkwardly, looking into your lap, “And I know that’s not what you meant at all.”

He waits for you to stop twisting your hands and look at him, “It’s exactly what I meant,” he says, his eyes staring into yours, “I want to talk about giving us a chance.”

You tremble slightly as you pull your cardigan from the back of your chair and put it on to distract from your nerves, “Us?” you repeat dumbly.

“Let’s be honest with each other,” Taehyung insists, “When we met in that canteen you knew what I was trying to suggest and you ran a mile. I know you’re shy but don’t pretend now that you don’t know what I mean.”

You swallow, your voice a little bit stronger when you reply, “There isn’t an ‘us’ though is there? Not even as friends anymore - I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” you begin, avoiding his gaze, “I don’t know what it is you think I can offer you, but you’re wrong. I know you must be hurting from whatever happened with Hana, but looking backwards to the past for comfort isn’t the solution. You should move forward - I’m not sure what it is you’re hoping for, but it’s not me.”

Again he waits in silence for you to look at him before he responds. So, you did know what he meant in the canteen…He wants to chuckle slightly at what he knows to be another one of your obviously rehearsed responses; after your last meeting you clearly have prepared for any possible follow-up conversation. 

Taehyung is unperturbed, in fact, he’s relieved; everything you’ve said so far has been about disbelieving that he is genuine, nothing you’ve said has been about your own feelings. If you don’t have feelings for him, surely you would just say that? he reasons; the very fact that you’re being evasive makes him hope that you do have feelings for him. He’s certain he can coax the truth out of you if he presses on.

When you finally raise your eyes to his, he smiles gently, “What I’m hoping for is you,” he emphasises, “I want you. More than anything, I wish that you would love me again.”

You say nothing for a moment, dumbstruck. Then he watches the cogs spinning in your mind as you try to work out how to reply. When you do, your voice is soft, “I will always love you, Taehyung,” you admit, “Just because we’re not as close as we once were doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

You’re not going to admit it, he realises, Not yet. You’re going to continue evading and misinterpreting his words and if he pushes you too hard, you might just run again. 

He takes another approach, “Good! I’m glad you still love me because I love you too,” he smiles, hoping you listen to the truth of that, not just your chosen interpretation of friendship, “So let’s rebuild our friendship, then. Come home with me, let’s watch a movie at mine, like we used to, I’ll order us dinner.”

Thrown off balance by the change in direction and the whole conversation, you blindly submit. Taehyung is quick to gather your things and bundle you out of the shop before you can change your mind. On the train journey back across the city to his apartment, you accept his offer of his shoulder and rest your head; as you relax against him you can’t help but admit to yourself that you’re not simply following along. Your heart is beating rapidly because you hope, beyond all reason, that he does actually want to be with you and all of this isn’t as mad as it seems.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

You awaken to the sense of being lowered into the clouds; your tired eyes open to find Taehyung above you, his arms slipping from under you as you sink into the softness of his bed.

“Ah, you woke up!” he smiles, “Go back to sleep baby, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

True to his word, the evening had been just like one from the past, you’d watched a film, slowly relaxing, then talked about nonsense and nothing of importance. You ate and laughed together until your heavy lids and exhaustion from so many different feelings had got the better of you.

“You hate sleeping on the couch,” you mumble sleepily, “It’s not comfortable.”

He sits on the bed beside you, stroking your hair from your eyes with long fingers, “Well then I can’t let you sleep there then, can I?”

Your eyes flutter open a little wider, “Just stay here then, we’ve shared before.”

“That wouldn’t be more uncomfortable for you?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You swallow, trying to be brave, “No, I want you to stay.”

He nods, smiling, before he gets up and pulls some clothes for you and him from a drawer, “Ok, I’ll change outside. There’s a spare toothbrush in the vanity if you want to wash up,” he says, indicating the en-suite.

When he re-enters, you’re already cuddled up in bed in one of his large tees, making him smile. When he gets out of the bathroom, he climbs in beside you, pulling your sleepy body into his embrace.

You’ve missed this, you realise, the closeness with him. Never, in all the time that he’s distanced himself from you have you been able to stop loving him. Yes, you’re nervous that whatever happened with Hana has affected him and that this desire to be with you is just a moment of madness, a weird sort of rebound and that he’ll come to regret it. Yet a voice nags at you, What if he doesn’t regret it? What if one thing leads to another and he falls for you like you fell for him all those years ago? 

Taehyung can tell you’re thinking furiously, your mind disturbed and so he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, drawing a happy little hum of contentment from you, “I’ve missed you,” he breathes quietly.

Your mind roars at you, Why do you always give up what you want, staying silent through years of Taehyung dating other women? Why did you force yourself to give him space when it was obvious Hana hated you instead of telling him she wasn’t good enough for him? Why should you deny yourself this moment with him when he’s all that you want? When he’s all that you’ve ever wanted? Fuck it… you resolve.

“I’ve missed you too,” you breathe back.

“Can I spoon you?” he asks, boldly kissing the tip of your nose in a gentle peck.

Your eyes open as you nod. Your heart flutters as you build the courage to kiss the tip of his nose, right on his little mole, in return.

Taehyung’s eyes widen before he leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth tenderly, hoping against hope that he’s not going too far.

This time you don’t pause: you swipe your mouth over his and kiss him softly, capturing the full pout of his lower lip between yours. He kisses you back and soon one kiss melts into another; his minty tongue flicking against your lips to plead entry. Soon you are making out, slowly and full of gentle hesitation. Moments stretch into minutes as you hold each other, your hands wandering over each other’s hair, arms and back. The kisses don’t heat up: nothing that’s happening now is about lust or desire, this is you telling Taehyung you love him and him telling you he loves you in return.

When you break apart, lips puffy, both blushing, all idea of spooning is abandoned, your limbs entangling as you pull each other closer, too shy to speak of what’s happened, melting into each other as sleep claims you.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Taehyung wakes to feel you gently hovering over his body as you try to climb from the bed, he seizes your waist in his firm hold, “Where are you going?” he grumbles, not yet opening his eyes.

“To the bathroom,” you reply dryly. He doesn’t care, please that you didn’t flinch from his touch.

“Then come back immediately,” he commands, his eyes opening and you nod, blushing.

When you come back, he stands to greet you, kissing the top of your head and making room for you to get back into bed. His heart beats a little faster, realising you’ve brushed your teeth again and he hopes it’s in readiness for more kissing, not you washing away those from the night before in regret.

When he returns and climbs in beside you, you look nervous. He strokes your face with the back of his fingers, “I need to tell you what happened with Hana,” he begins, “It’s important.”

You nod and he does: he begins with admitting he has been in love with you for longer than he can remember and everything follows from there, all the mess with Hana; the promise he made; what he found out on Jeju; finding out from Hobi that you once had loved him too; all of it.

As he talks he sits up in bed, finding a comfortable position and you cuddle into his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart as he tells you everything.  Over the course of his retelling, the tattoo of his heart gives way to the soft growling of his stomach.

When he finishes, you sit up and look at him as he awaits your response, “Let’s get breakfast,” is all you can say, temporarily overwhelmed by all he has told you, “There’s a lot to process and a lot to talk about.”

Taehyung looks crestfallen, and your heart, so in tune with his now, throbs in sympathy. Without thinking you straddle him, cupping his face and kissing his nose, “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He tilts his head, “Will you be honest with me too?” he asks, taking your hands in his and swinging them side to side.

“I have been,” you protest as he frowns.

”Can you love me again?” he asks. 

“I told you yesterday that I’d always love you Tae, that was the truth,” you admit, looking away shyly, “I’ve never stopped.”

Before he can speak, you kiss him again. He’s quick to release your hands, wrapping them around you so he can guide you onto your back as he deepens the kiss.

“What about breakfast?” you ask as his hungry mouth finds your neck.

“Fuck breakfast,“ is the muffled reply you receive as his mouth finds yours again.

Like the night before, each kiss melts into the next. Unlike last night though, with love admitted and freely spoken, desire edges into your embrace, gilding your edges with a simmering heat that builds in warmth and intensity drawing your bodies ever closer together.

After so long of dreaming of each other, of years of longing and unanswered need, what follows isn’t the choreographed routine of two lovers who know each other’s bodies. Instead, as you kiss and grind against each other, your clothes seem to slowly fall away, either shrugged off by or pulled away by the other: Taehyung sucks a bruise into your neck as you shimmy his boxers down before he kicks them off, you giggle into the sharp bone of his clavicle as his fingers hook into the elastic of your underwear.

You gasp into his mouth when he guides his cock into you, and tremble beneath him as he fucks into you, your bodies melded together with each deep, slow thrust. Your hands grip at his back and hair as your legs wrap around his waist. His slow grind ensures you come before he does, gasping his name as he sloppily kisses your cheek; he raises himself then, grinning down at you, glowing with sweat and breathless as he chases his high, you cling to his arms, smiling and gasping as, with a groan, the tendons of his neck tense. He thrusts your bodies as close as he can, driving deep into you, his balls pressed close as his cock pulses inside you. When the world resolves itself from pure ecstasy, he looks down at you in wonder as you look up at him with the same look: both of you silently saying the same thing.

When he slips from you and fetches a damp cloth to clean you up, you smile shyly at each other. He eases sweaty tendrils of hair from your flushed face, “I feel like a teenager,” he laughs.

You purse your lips and nod, “That was…” you don’t know how to finish the sentence, you want to say ‘sweet’ but it feels wrong.

Taehyung fills in for you, “Perfect and,” he pauses, “very overdue.”

“I love you,” you reply without missing a beat.

Taehyung grins in satisfaction, “I love you too,” the last syllable obscured by his rumbling stomach, causing you both to laugh again.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

“Why can’t we tell our friends yet?” Taehyung asks, fluffing his hair out of his eyes with the back of his fingers as he checks himself out in your bedroom mirror.

“Because I just have the sense from Namjoon that the mystery weekend that he swept Hyejin off to was a ruse for a proposal,” you explain as you shimmy your dress over your hips, ready to meet your friends at the fancy restaurant that Namjoon has booked.

“Ah…” Taehyung smiles, “You think we’d steal their thunder?”

“I don’t think it’s a risk worth taking,” you admit.

Wordlessly, Taehyung appears behind you, helping you with the zip you’re struggling with, delivering a kiss to your shoulder, “You’re right,” he agrees.

“I wish we could though,” you admit, turning into his arms, “It’ll be hard to pretend we’re indifferent to each other.”

“Babe, that’s all that we were doing before,” he laughs, kissing you.

“True,” you admit, “But I don’t want to do that anymore, I want to hang out with you.”

“We should say we’ve resolved all the issues between us, and that we’re friends again,” he suggests, “Given that it was Hyejin who wanted to bring us together in the first place, it’ll be nice for her to know she helped.”

“That’s sweet,” you smile, flicking your nose against his chin; he takes the hint and kisses you again with a rumbling, low laugh. 

When you break apart, he looks at you uncomfortably, “There is someone that I’d like you to tell though.”

“Hyungsik,” you supply and he nods awkwardly, “I understand, I’ll tell him tonight. You have to believe me that you two would really get along. Could you just hang out a bit with him tonight?”

Taehyung inclines his head graciously, “For you, I’ll try,” he submits, “But you have to remember that for months I’ve hated him on principle, it’s weird to let that go.”

“We never even kissed,” you say, rolling your eyes, “Your imagination did the rest.”

He laughs at that, “So you didn’t let me believe you two were dating in Jeju?”

You squirm, “Maybe a little bit…”

He laughs at your discomfort, before catching sight of the clock behind you, “C’mon babe, we’re going to be late.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

You were right, the dinner was a celebration of Namjoon and Hyejin’s engagement. Despite the happiness you feel for them, the dinner is a torturous affair. You sit with Hyungsik, away from Taehyung. After months of finding it too painful to look at him, now you ache trying not to. Being with him and not with him simultaneously is agony. 

The opposite side of the room from you, Taehyung avoids looking at you at all costs. Though he is secure in the knowledge that there’s nothing between you and Hyungsik, he is nonetheless jealous that the other man gets to sit through three courses of your company before Taehyung is able to move around the table and get to you. 

If not for his respect for Namjoon, he’d be declaring his love for you to anyone who asked and he would be sitting with you now, hand in hand beneath the table. Instead, he is lying through his teeth, batting away his friends’ questions about you, pretending that he is following Namjoon’s advice and slowly building your friendship back to where it should be. Largely their curiosity seems satisfied, except for Hobi, who scrutinises Taehyung carefully as he spins his fictions. Hobi can’t help but feel suspicious, especially when he sees you explaining something to Hyungsik that has him gasping into his hands before he beams at you. That in itself alerts Hobi that something is up, but it’s compounded by the way Hyungsik can’t seem to stop glancing over at Taehyung after it.

Later in the evening, Hobi shares his suspicions with Jimin as they sit, chairs pressed close beside each other. They watch carefully as Taehyung makes awkward and stilted conversation with the accommodating and smiley Hyungsik whilst you look nervously on.

“See?” Hobi indicates to Jimin, speaking out of the side of his mouth, “I think she knows how he feels, look at her - her attention is totally on Taehyung and how he’s reacting to Hyungsik…”

Jimin nods, “I see it. Do you think he’s confessed? How do you think she took it?”

“Oh boys,” Hyejin sighs, placing her hands on the backs of their chairs before leaning between them, “Would you like my take?”

Sliding across a chair, Jimin makes room and she joins their little observation panel between them. After a few moments, watching Taehyung’s spasming arm reach and withdraw from you repeatedly, she smirks, “Well, well…” she laughs, only explaining herself when Jimin implores her, “I’d say our Taehyungie has been telling fibs. I don’t think he’s followed Joon’s advice at all. I think he’s followed yours, Hobi,” she says, looking at the man beside her.

“Really? You think he has confessed?” Hobi smiles.

“I’m pretty sure,” she asserts, “I think he’s confessed and so has she. She’s told Hyungsik and now the boys are learning to play nicely.”

“Makes sense,” Hobi concurs, thinking of the earlier scene he witnessed, “But why not tell us?”

Jimin scoffs, “And steal all of our attention away from Namjoon and Hyejin? When the announcement was made Taehyung must have decided to lie.”

Hyejin’s brow furrows, “No, I don’t think so,” she muses, “She already had suspicions that Joonie was likely to propose - we’ve talked about it. I think she predicted what tonight was really about and they planned this in advance. That’s typical of her.”

They sit for a moment, smiling together before Hyejin giggles, “You know how we are all going to have brunch tomorrow?” she asks.

“We’re meeting at the café, yeah? The one by Taehyung’s place? At 11?” Jimin supplies.

“Let’s meet earlier… Let’s meet at 10, and at Taehyung’s place. Let’s have some fun with them.”

Jimin grins wickedly, “Hyejin, I like the way you think…” 

Across the room, you, Taehyung and Hyungsik turn to follow the sound of laughter, watching as Hyejin, Hobi and Jimin cackle gleefully together.

“They’re plotting something,” Taehyung notices astutely.

“Hmm, they’re just missing a cauldron,” you offer.

“Something wicked this way comes…” suggests Hyungsik ominously.

The three of you turn to each other and laugh. Your heart lifts as Taehyung and Hyungsik smile, hoping this is the start of their friendship.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Soft music curls around you as you push up the overlong sleeves of one of Taehyung’s hoodies, before you turn the volume down a little more. He’s still fast asleep down the hall after last night’s dinner and you want to make breakfast without waking him. 

You gingerly tread towards the fridge to gather the ingredients you need; your waddle is nothing to do with staying quiet, your bare feet make no noise against the cold tiles of the floor; no, your slow walk is far more to do with your bruised thighs and tender vagina. Pre-Taehyung it’d been a while since you last had sex and last night was a revelation: the gentle shyness of your first time together was a distant memory as soon as the door closed behind you.

⊛ ⊛ ⊛

As soon as your feet slipped from your heels, Taehyung pressed you against the door. His hot mouth on your neck and his hardening crotch grinding against you as your fingers tangle in his hair. His hands were quick to pull your dress up around your waist, his knee pressing against yours to guide your legs further apart.

He kissed you as he stroked you through the dampening silk of your underwear. You moaned into his mouth, and lust ran through his blood in hot waves, filling his cock as molten heat pooled in your core. His long fingers pushed your underwear to one side before he slid one, then two fingers into you, quickly working out how to curl them to draw the prettiest, most needy whines from you.

Quickly you were a trembling mess as neither his fingers nor his tongue relented. Feeling merciful, Taehyung broke from your mouth to attack your neck, letting free your chorus of moans and praise for him, “Feels so good, Tae, please don’t stop…”

He plunged his fingers a little faster into you as your hips began to grind against his hand, knowing he was getting you close, “Are you gonna come for me, baby?” he grinned, nipping your neck and maintaining his rhythm.

You nodded, begging for him, incoherent broken syllables of need and desire. He thought of stopping, wanting to insist that you came around his cock but he couldn’t bring himself to, too desperate to see you come undone for him. He carried on, fingering you to your shuddering orgasm and grinning as you whimpered and writhed against him.

He slid his fingers from you as you gasped and smiled at him, your eyes glazed as you came down from your high, “You good, babe?” he grinned as you hummed in contentment, reaching for his belt buckle. 

As you sank to your knees, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines, he smiled down at you, shuddering with anticipation for what was to come as you breathed gently over the head of his cock, before your tongue gently teased the tip. The moan of pleasure he offered made you determined to draw more from him.

⊛ ⊛ ⊛

This morning, you smile at the memory of how he’d crumbled under the touch of your hands and mouth; his delighted surprise as you’d deep-throated him, his cockhead pressing against your throat; his delicious frustration as you’d teased him… It was glorious, but he paid you back tenfold for your fun. After coming down your throat, he practically dragged you to the bedroom where he ate you out until you screamed and then fucked you with your legs over your shoulders until all you could do was weakly babble his name.

As you prepare breakfast, sore as you are, you feel arousal begin to soak through your fresh underwear at the memory. You want him again. You can’t be close enough to Taehyung; no kiss is enough; no embrace enough. You’ve waited so long for him that now he’s yours you don’t want to let him go. Your need for him is only temporarily sated by the sensation of being filled by his cock. The tense, wonderful feeling of how hard he is, how tightly you fit around him, making you see stars and driving you to orgasm in a way you’ve never experienced before. 

Distracting yourself with cooking, you don’t notice when Taehyung appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck while you’re at the stove.

“Smells delicious,” he praises, as you jump at the contact.

“It’s nearly ready,” you smile, turning your head to kiss him, “Go sit and I’ll bring it over,” you can’t help but grin as he ambles from the kitchen with heavy footed, sleepy steps, his eyes puffy as he yawns loudly.

⊛ ⊛ ⊛

After breakfast, dishes cleared and everything put away, any trace of tiredness Taehyung may have felt is long gone.

“You like that? Yeah?” he pants, “Can you feel how fucking hard you make me?”

Pinned beneath him on his couch, you moan out in pleasure as he drives into you, “Fuck, Taehyung, you feel so fucking good…”

He’s already fucked you once since breakfast, your underwear and his large tee discarded with his pyjamas across the dining table which he’d bent you over as you finished cleaning up. Afterwards, gentle cuddles on the couch had heated up until you’d straddled him, riding him to your orgasm. Impatient, after you’d come he was quick to throw you on your back so he could take you with the full force of his lust. 

You can hear the slickness of his withdrawal before he thrusts inside you again; no matter how many times he fucks you, the stretch of him parting your walls is a heady mix of pain and pleasure that you’re already addicted to. In all your years of dreaming about him, you could never imagine it would feel like this. A new vocabulary needs to be invented for the things Taehyung does to you, fucking and coming are not enough to explain the pure euphoria and heights he can drive you to.

“You’re so fucking tight, babe… You’re driving me crazy,” he huffs out, confirming he feels it just as much as you do, “You were fucking made to take me… Fucking perfect...”

The pounding is relentless, he rocks back to sit up, without breaking rhythm, raising your hips so he can thrust deeper. You cry out at the new angle, it hurts but feels so, so good. In this position you can do nothing but take his relentless thrusts. 

His thumb works your clit and you cry out, “I can’t,” you squirm pointlessly in your sensitivity, “Tae, I can’t… I can’t come again.”

“You can and you will, need you to come for me,” he pleads, before a wicked grin creeps across his face, “Wanna fill you up while you squeeze me…”

Arching your back, you squeeze around him, clenching your walls, “Ahhh,” he groans, “Nice try babe, but you’re gonna come for me…” he insists, working your clit more rapidly as his pace picks up, his high approaching.

It doesn’t take long for you to come undone, you cry out pitifully as you spasm around his length, “Fuck, that’s it, grip it just like that, fuckkkkkk,” Taehyung groans, slamming into you, his ball pressing against you as he comes, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you as he reaches his high.

A panting mess, he collapses onto you, chuckling into your neck, “You make me come so hard.” 

Your sweat-slicked bodies stick together, yet you still wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer, hands tangling in his hair as he kisses you sloppily.

“What time is it?” You pant as he withdraws from you with a soft hiss.

“It’s just gone 10,” he checks, pulling tissues from the coffee table to clean you up, “Don’t worry we haven’t got to be there ’til 11,” he offers a hand to help ease your aching body up as a loud knock comes at the door.

You look at each other in panic as Taehyung puts his fingers to his lips.

Outside his door, Jimin, Hobi, Namjoon and Hyejin press their hands over their mouths not to laugh.

Nodding at them, Jimin raises his voice unnecessarily loudly, “Taehyung? You there, man?” When he receives no response, he lowers his volume, but makes sure he can definitely be heard from the other side of the door, “He must be out. I’m just gonna let myself in and grab my hoodie…”

They all suppress laughter as Jimin, with teasing slowness, enters the key code.

They step inside the apartment to the sound of Taehyung’s bedroom door slamming shut. The windows have been flung wide open, but the smell of sex lingers. Kicking their shoes off beside your heels from the night before their eyes land on Taehyung, bare chested in pyjama pants, clothes bundled in his arm. Eyes wide, he flings his hand, which so obviously has lacy women’s underwear in it, behind his back.

“Hi guys,” he offers gamely, trying to style it out, “What brings you here?”

“Needed my hoodie,” Jimin states bluntly, “You didn’t answer - I hope we haven’t interrupted something?” he asks, suppressing a smile.

“Just cleaning up,” Taehyung says, trying to shake his hair from his eyes.

“Are you ok?” Namjoon asks, in mock concern, “You look hot? It’s too cold to have the windows open, Tae - do you have a fever?” he steps forward with the back of his hand outstretched to feel Taehyung’s forehead.

In panic, Taehyung steps away, moving his hair out of his eyes without thought, using the hand in which your underwear hangs, “Fuck!” he yells, throwing them behind him as his friends burst into laughter, Jimin grabbing his hoodie from the hook beside the door.

“If you’re not sick I guess we’ll just see you at the café?” Hobi laughs. 

As they file out leaving Taehyung dumbstruck and frozen, Hyejin, unable to contain herself, turns back as she pulls the door closed behind her calling your name out loudly, “We’ll see you there too! Take your time guys!” 

Your friends cackle in unison as the door softly clicks shut behind them. Taehyung turns as his bedroom door opens and you, holding a blanket in front of your body, look at him in horror.

“At least we don’t need to worry about when to tell them now, I guess?” he offers, trying to put a positive spin on it.

You grimace, “Did they hear…” you choke out, unable to finish the phrase.

“Us fucking?” he supplies, not altogether helpfully, “I think it’s a safe bet they caught the, uh, climax?” Together, you burst into embarrassed laughter.

“I’m going to shower,” you groan, “Then we better go face them.”

“Want me to join you?” he asks, raising a brow.

“Absolutely fucking not,” you deadpan, shutting the door nod whining in embarrassment as you pad to the shower. 

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

“We figured it out last night,” Hyejin admits at the café, “Though we appreciate you guys keeping it quiet for our sakes,” she smiles, laying her hand over her fiancé’s.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you say, hiding your face in your hands, while Taehyung rubs your back comfortingly.

“Don’t be!” Hobi insists, “We really didn't hear anything at all!”

“Honestly,” Namjoon adds, “It was your shoes being there and Taehyung flinging your underwear around that gave it away.”

You groan again as Hyejin cuffs his shoulder, “Not helpful, Joonie!”

It’s that moment that Yoongi rolls in, “Sorry I’m late, had a work thing to sort,” he apologises, taking a seat opposite you as you uncover your face, “What did I miss?”

You frown slightly, trying to work out what to say. Taehyung squeezes your shoulder, “Nothing much -” he begins.

Gesturing for the waitress to come over, Yoongi looks back at the two of you, “Other than these guys hearing you two going at it this morning, you mean?” he teases, “Yeah, Jimin called and told me all about that… Good for you, it’s about time.”

With a muffled wail you bury your face in Taehyung’s shoulder as he glares daggers at Jimin. Namjoon groans, cuffing Yoongi gently, careful to avoid his shoulder, “Not helpful, man!” 

⊛ ⊛ ⊛

Hours later, you head back to Taehyung’s hand in hand, waving goodbye to your friends with a warm contentment that you have never felt before.

Taehyung’s hand tightens around yours, “Will you stay tonight?” 

You nod, smiling, “Yeah, I just need to go home and get some stuff.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says quickly. 

“You know, I won’t run away,” you tease.

He stops walking and pulls you to him, enclosing you in his arms, “I’m not letting you go for one minute. You’re mine now and I’d be lost without you, baby.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Bright sunlight cuts a sharp line across Taehyung’s eyes as he blinks slowly awake the next morning. Laying on his stomach, he buries his face into his pillow for a moment, grumbling to himself as he stretches his arm out, his fingers caressing the warmth of your skin. He turns his head, grinning as he strokes your back where you lie peacefully beside him, where you’ve always belonged.

Your eyes flicker open to meet his, reflecting his smile. Turning on your side, you move closer to him until you can kiss the tip of his nose.

It’s not long before you’re pinned beneath him, as he nuzzles into you, “Love me, love me, love me,” he insists, his kisses turning into a bruise as he sucks on your neck.

“Love you, love you, love you,” you chorus, your hands running down his hips to slide his boxers off before you wrap your hand around his thick length, gently teasing his head with the precum collecting there, drawing a gasp from him.

“What’s this?” you tease, “Having naughty dreams about someone?”

“You, always you…” he confesses as your hand begins to slide along his length, “Want…” he stutters with a shudder.

“Want what?” you ask, nipping his ear lobe as you grip firmly, your other hand reaching around to tug gently at his balls.

Breathless, his fingers explore your wet folds before he pushes your hands from him, wrapping his hand around his length. His eyes stare into yours, “I want you,” he affirms, “Only you, always you, nobody else.”

Your contented hum turns into a drawn out moan as he drives into you in one powerful thrust. Gripping his back as he fucks you hard and slow, you mouth every expression of love you can think of into the heat of each other’s skin, more in love than either of you have ever known possible.

<<< BACK TO MAIN MASTERLIST

lost in a heartbeat | pjm

Keeping up with your fledgling boyfriend's new sexual appetite wasn't something you'd considered when you agreed to turn him.

↳ pairing: vampire!jimin x vampire(f)!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | supernatural | established relationship | smut | fluff

↳ wc/date: 2.8k | may 2023

↳ warnings: lots of biting and blood | unprotected vaginal sex | vaginal fingering | bulging jfdksjhs don't look at me | reader passes out | mentions fangwarming

↳ notes: this can be read as a standalone, but it's better if you read nectar and touch me after midnight. i hope you enjoy it! i love this couple so much. i struggle to let them go. full disclosure, i did not edit this at all khsdkfjs so uhhhh. good luck.

↳ masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? slow (ft. ciara) - jackson wang

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“My little vampy seems so needy,” Jimin speaks into the crook of your neck. He squeezes your hips and presses his face into your skin with a bit more force, the closeness of his body forcing you to step back until you are caught between him and the wall. 

You feel his front teeth graze your shivering skin in a smirk as he teases you. 

“Does she want daddy to help her?” 

“Oh my god, Park Jimin, do not call yourself that.” 

“Call myself what?” 

He lifts his face from your neck long enough to stare at you with large, sparkling eyes partially obscured by his bangs. As much as you loved his pink hair, and the soft blonde it had faded into, Jimin’s naturally dark hair does something to you. The color brights out the gleam in his eyes. 

Right now, you’re more focused on his tongue circling his lips - plump, perfect lips that fall into an O-shaped pout while his eyebrows furrow together. You narrow your eyes, but Jimin only grins. You know he isn’t innocent, and he knows you don’t have it in you to punish him for being bad. 

And he does love to be bad. 

“You know what,” you say with a loud huff. “And you’re not allowed to call me little vampy anymore.” Despite your harsh tone, you gather Jimin’s shirt into your fists and pull him against you. 

“Oh really? You don’t like it?” 

“You know I don’t.” 

“I think you do.” 

“Park Jimin.”

“So many rules…” 

A bit of guilt nips at your heart, but Jimin’s mouth is wet against your collarbone, and his fingers lower to unbutton your jeans. You’re sure he didn’t mean anything by what he said, but you feel anxious anyway. 

“I didn’t.” 

You tilt your head slightly, confusion replacing the anxiety - if only for a moment. 

“I didn’t mean anything by what I said,” he confirms, and his lips capture yours before you can scold him for reading your mind.

Jungkook had never been able to do that - read your mind. Sure, you and your ex-boyfriend could once sense each other’s emotions, and Jungkook even had hypnotic-like power over you. It’s not unusual, just the mental and emotional bond vampires form when they feed off each other. 

The moment you sired Jimin, the bond with Jungkook was severed for good. This new sire bond with your boyfriend is so, so different, though.

For starters, he can read your mind. 

That’s one of the rules - no reading your mind without your permission. 

Jimin says it’s hard, though. Little whispers of your thoughts flit through his head, and he has trouble stopping them, especially when you’re upset. 

Like now. With all the rules. You can’t help it. Being a new vampire means Jimin has to learn the rules of how to exist in the world in a new way. Even you’re trying to figure shit out for the first time; you’d been born a vampire. So all of this is new for you, too. 

Your thoughts are distracted by the moan you instinctually growl from the back of your throat when Jimin slides his hand inside your underwear. You rest your face against his chest and continue to squeeze his shirt in your fists. His fingers are cold; of course, they are. You’ve yet to get used to this new body temperature, although he didn’t feel as cold to you as he will feel toward a human. Your cool temperatures seem to balance out well. 

You gently press your lips against his skin to kiss and suck his collarbone. Your head falls back against the wall Jimin has you shoved against when you feel his knee spread your legs apart further so he can pump his fingers into you more forcefully. Even from the beginning, Jimin knew how to find the spot that would have you shaking in his hand. 

“Fuck,” Jimin moans against your lips. He tries stealing a kiss, but he can’t bring himself to capture your lips with his when every ragged breath stumbles out of his mouth in a moan. 

One particularly rough thrust against your front wall made you sob, and Jimin’s legs nearly gave out. 

“Are you okay, baby?” You frown, grasping his sides to help hold him up. 

There’s no surprise that he is affected by the moment; Jimin is the type to get turned on by pleasuring his partner. He can’t understand how some guys don’t get hard from touching or going down on their partners. The first time Jimin ate you out, he’d been convinced he could cum just from doing that. 

Jimin has his eyes closed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, making his fangs poke out. He takes a shaky breath before opening those deep, caramel-red eyes to you. 

“I can feel it,” he croaks out. “I feel you… It goes straight to my fucking dick, fuck. It feels so good. It’s so much.” 

“Ohh.” 

It’s the sire bond. Somehow, stronger than Jungkook’s once was. No wonder Jimin can’t stand on his own if he’s feeling both his pleasure and yours. 

Removing his hand from your pants, Jimin hooks his arms around your thighs to hoist you up. How many times has he carried you into his bedroom? Ever since the two of you had gotten back together, Jimin was shoving you onto his bed, or your bed, or the couch, or the floor, or the kitchen table, or or or or… Every night. And sometimes in the mornings. And sometimes multiple times during the day. It seemed Jimin was determined to make up for all the lost time. 

This time is different, though. 

This time, Jimin throws you onto his bed and rips your clothes off with the new strength he has yet to learn to control. The button on your jeans pops off and skids across the wood floors as Jimin rips your pants down. 

You flinch when you hear fabric tear. Jimin’s sucking dark hickeys onto your neck, hickeys that are possible to see because you’ve recently fed. 

You can’t see how your shredded shirt falls off of you. You just feel his nails drag down your sides until he reaches your underwear. Then, hooking his fingers in the waistband, Jimin rips the flimsy lace off you. 

The little bitch. You’d braved Victoria’s Secret with Nikki by your side and bought all that stupid lingerie specifically for him. Shoved your ass into too-small panties and thongs and wore bras that pushed your tits too high up your chest, and for what? For him to rip it all to shreds without even stopping to admire it! 

“Park Jimin!” 

He lifts his head, and you stare into eyes so black it’s impossible to see his pupils. They’re glazed over and shiny as though they’re made of glass. His bangs fall against his forehead, getting in the way of his eyes. 

“Yes, princess?” The deepness of his voice makes you shiver. There’s a gravelly edge to it that made him sound inhuman. 

“Lingerie is expensive.” 

Your boyfriend blinks a few times as though he’s struggling to break through the haze of lust that hits him doubly as hard. 

“I’ll buy you more.” 

At least you aren’t wearing a bra for him to destroy. Your underwear is gone forever, though. Ripped up with the rest of your clothes littering Jimin’s bedroom. There is little time to think about how much money he’d just destroyed before Jimin’s fangs are nipping at your chest, scattering small puncture wounds across your skin. 

It’s good, so good, you find yourself on the verge of tears, chants of more, please, Jimin, more as cool touches brush down your arms, cold fingers press into the curve of your waist. Each puncture of fangs pumping searing venom into your veins. 

Vampire blood is dead blood. It provides very little nutritional value, but the emotional bond it creates between a vampire and their sire is worth more than the need to satisfy any hunger. 

More, so good, baby, just-just take. 

Jimin’s hands quickly remove his clothes while his mouth stays occupied. He leans forward to suck on the dribbles of blood that drip down your tits. Each open-mouth kiss makes your body shiver uncontrollably the lower down your torso Jimin plants them. You moan when his tongue, wet with your blood, swirls around your nipple. 

After Jungkook, you’d told yourself you’d never let another vampire drink from you again. The mental connection it caused between two vampires who fed off each other was too dangerous to risk creating with someone else. But you are Jimin’s sire. You slit your wrist to feed him what most humans considered a cursed life, but what Jimin craved more than anything in this world - more than pain and pleasure combined. 

The two of you are mentally, emotionally, and physically linked - for the rest of your undead lives. It doesn’t matter if Jimin gives in to his instincts by tasting you, marking you up so everyone knows you are his. 

You like it. You like letting him run rampant, the wildness of his hunger and the new power raging through his veins unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Born vampires don’t experience the feral stage of a turned fledgling. 

“Ahh, fuck, Ji-” A moan cuts you off. You throw your head back, letting it hang while you attempt to hold yourself up on your elbows, even as Jimin tries to push you onto your back. 

He settles between your legs, his fangs pressing into the deliciously soft skin of your inner thigh. This is the first time he will have sex as a vampire; you’re willing to excuse his animalistic behavior. 

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.” Jimin’s voice cracks, and his fingers tremble when he squeezes your thighs. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t… think I will last. It’s just so much.” He nips the skin of your other thigh in frustration after seeing the smug look on your face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t, ahh, say anything.” 

If you looked down, you’d see that your body is bloodied more than ever. Dark red, nearly black, streaks line your torso, some of the lines starting at your throat and trailing down to your thighs. The inside of your thighs are bruised, and the puncture wounds haven’t healed yet. They’re black holes littering your skin. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you can feel the blood pooling in your belly button. You feel lightheaded, but every touch of his body against yours makes your head explode with pleasure that rolls like liquid down your body. 

It isn’t just that Jimin can feel you. You feel him, too. 

So, when you feel the head of Jimin’s cock circle your clit, you nearly start crying. 

“Jimin,” you sob, fisting the bed sheets so tightly that your inhuman strength causes you to rip holes in them. 

“I know,” Jimin presses his face against the leg he’s propped over his shoulder. He’s gripping your other leg by the back of your thigh, squeezing it almost painfully so he can hold it up and open. “I know.” 

The sweetness of his voice falls in stark contrast with the sting of his nails digging into your skin to hold you in place as he eases his cock into you. 

Your head falls against the bed from the energy you exert as you try not to completely lose yourself in him. Despite dating Jimin for two years, you feel woefully unprepared for how he pounds into you. He relentlessly fucks into you hard enough to leave deep bruises all over your body after the initial ones have already healed from his venom. 

“It’s so good, isn’t it. Shit.” Jimin’s dark bangs obscure his face when he tilts his head to look down where your bodies connect. He isn’t asking you because he wants to know. This is less of a question and more of an agreement because he knows how you feel. He feels how you feel. Each slippery glide of his cock against your walls, the heightened sensations vibrating through your body because of the aphrodisiac effects of his venom. 

You barely register that you haven’t even bitten him, nor has he asked you to.

“Fuck.” 

Jimin presses his hand against your abdomen, obsessed with the bulge his cock creates every time he thrusts into you. The pressure makes you squirm under his touch. 

“You’re close.” 

Again, he doesn’t ask. He knows. 

You whimper a confirmation anyway. 

“I can, ah, ah,” Angelic moans punctuate each thrust. He’s nearly at the point he’s nonverbal; all you can do is try not to rip holes into the mattress and arch your back. “Neck.”

“Please,” you manage to choke out, and he’s leaning forward, nearly breaking you in half to press his tongue against your neck. You flinch when you realize his tongue is warm as he flattens it to slowly press along your throat. 

“Okay, okay, y-yes, I’m going…” 

Jimin brings his fingers to your clit while simultaneously sinking his fangs into your neck again. The conflicting sensations are nearly too much for your body to handle. Your pussy constricts around Jimin’s cock as you scream your orgasm out of you. Jimin comes the moment you do, so overcome with the power of your simultaneous orgasms, he collapses with dead weight on your body. It hurts how he falls, but you’re barely clinging to consciousness when he does. 

“Jimin.” 

Your voice is just as weak as your body, and you feel yourself slowly letting go of whatever was holding your head above water. 

When you wake up, you first notice the overwhelming scent of lavender. The t-shirt hanging off your shoulders is soft, and you snuggle back into the covers once you realize your body is clean. The bed sheets are, too, freshly washed, just like your hair and body. Two years ago, you would have been ashamed to pass out and leave someone else to deal with you - to clean, dress, and take care of you. 

Now you smile with the knowledge that someone in the world treasures you despite the monster you could be. Fuck, someone who became the same monster you could be. For you and no other reason. 

“Princess?” 

“You know I fucking hate when you call me that.” The blunt response is said with a smile. 

You open your eyes once more. The bright light filtering through the window’s blinds tells you you fell asleep late into the day. 

Jimin presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s also dressed in comfy, clean clothes - a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. The ends of his hair are still wet from the shower he likely just took. It explains how overwhelming all the lavender is - lavender detergent, hair products, and lotion. Lavender is the smell of home now. 

When you tilt your head up to look at him, you wince at the soreness in your neck. 

“Sorry,” Jimin apologizes sheepishly. “I think I went a little too hard last night.” 

You laugh as you press your hand against the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. You force your tongues into a fight for control, humming into his mouth as you taste the blood he must have just drank for lunch. 

“You never asked me to bite you,” you mumble against his lips. He tries nipping at your bottom lip with his blunt teeth, playful and nothing more. 

“It was nice to… be the other person doing it.” Jimin seems shy as he admits this; it’s not a feeling you’re used to seeing from him. 

“Most sires don’t let their baby vamps bite them,” you muse. 

“I’m not a baby,” Jimin whines. He pushes you over, pouncing onto you once your back hits the bed. “I just like it, okay? It makes me feel close to you.” He runs his nose along your jaw. 

You get it, though. Even if it’s unwanted, there’s a power dynamic that goes into biting. It’s easy to get high off of, even when you’re not the one with the venom in your dead veins. 

“We should try fangwarming.” 

A deep rumble, almost like a growl, vibrates from Jimin’s throat. The power behind the sound makes you laugh. 

“You’re so predictable, Park Jimin.” 

Jimin presses his smile against your throat. “You love me anyway, though.” 

It’s something you’ve told each other before, but hearing it still feels new and exciting. To know that it’s a love so potent you both were willing to change yourselves - in different but meaningful ways. 

“I love you too. For eternity, even.” You wrap your arms around Jimin’s waist and pull him closer. 

“For eternity.” 

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Alpha Goes First (KSJ)

(Seokjin x Reader) (Omegaverse au!) (Poly au!)

Summary: Each pack has its own set of traditions and standards and as the newest omega in bangtan’s pack- you have more than a few things to learn. things come to a head when the youngest alpha tries to breed you before your pack alpha does. Seokjin doesn’t like that one bit.

Pairings: Pack Alpha! Seokjin x Omega! Reader, Implied OT7 x Reader, Brief alpha! Jungkook x Reader, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! yoongi, Beta! hoseok, Omega! Taehyung, Pack Omega! Jimin

Tags: referenced unwanted arranged marriage, omega mistreatment, allusions to emotional and physical abuse, blood, licking of blood, possessive behavior, kinda yandere! Seokjin, explicit sexual content, panty sniffing, panty stuffing, exhibitionism, voyeurism, Seokjin and the reader have sex and everyone watches and fools around in the background, Oral sex ( m + F receiving), brief bondage, a bit of humiliation, clit slapping, cock slapping, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, inflation kink, dacryphillia, squirting, hair pulling, dirty talk, mentions of male omegas producing slick, brief m x m content, 

W/c: 20.5k

A/n: me and filthy smut? possessive seokjin? need i say more. this was only originally supposed to be 12k so how???? there is significant poly content in this- so be mindful, though i only tagged seokjin x reader because he’s the only one that fucks her in this! this is sort of a birthday present for jin too- and it took me a lot of time so make sure you give it a lot of love! 

Coming to a new pack isn’t easy; the customs are always different- no matter where you go. Each pack has a different system of settling disputes, of mating, each one unique. But you’d never thought you’d get to settle in one like this. One that you’d grow to love so much that your body burned with it.

Your hands press at the mating marks on your neck, you can scarcely believe it. That someone has loved you enough to mark you this way. That anyone would. You didn’t think you’d ever end up with an alpha- let alone a full pack. four alphas, two other omegas, and one beta.

The fact that you’re really considered a member of their pack and not just a plaything is another hurdle in itself. The pack you’d grown up in hadn’t viewed omegas as much more than chattel, and the pack they’d sold you to viewed you as even less. To them omegas where just pretty pets that were good for little more than a fuck at best or an annoyance that needed a harsh hand at worst.

That was the exact opposite of Kim Seokjin’s pack.

Czytaj dalej