Ammi Jaan I Am In Love And In Horny Pain ... *Passes Out*
Ammi jaan I am in love and in horny pain ... *Passes out*
DREAM GIRL đ kim namjoon.



pair. writer! namjoon x f. reader | genre. age gap romance, obsession, love at first sight, angst | warnings. corruption kink, profanity, slight stalker behavior, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, power imbalance, just filthy sex tbh | word count. 3.7k
synopsis. âtell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?â or namjoon is completely enamored by your angelic innocence, and absolutely has to claim you.
Kim Namjoon spent most of his time reading.
His most recent binge had been Murakami books, the woman through a manâs point of view, and while fascinatingâit lacked depth. Intensity. This author clearly understood the peculiar sex very little, was entirely focused on his love for them, and their reaction to it. If it was Namjoon, heâd let them lead the narrative, while heâd step back and observe.
Women were to be observed, understood, before approached. This is how he found you, a perfect little angel in your white dress, sipping coffee outside his neighborhoodâs cafĂ©, softly talking to a grey, stray cat, your hand extended out for it, your fingers delicate in their calling. You stopped him dead on his tracks. He could do nothing but stare.
You looked so peaceful in your oblivion, your hair up and away from your face, a book propped on your knees. Namjoonâs feet moved without his knowledge, his mind replaying one thingâI have to see your face, your beautiful features, I need to meet you, sweetheart. Shamefully, his cock stirred in his pants, alerting him of his improper intentions. No matter. He couldnât control his response to you, didnât want to.
Walking in the coffeehouse, he leaned against the tall counter, head lazily falling into his open palm, gaze following your every move. Ordering his usual drink, he gathered the courage to approach you. You seemed to like this cat, so, perhaps an animal lover, and you most certainly were a readerâit was a start, an opening for him.
Clouds were beginning to gather, September coming to an end, but you paid no mind to them, your eyes scanning the pages of whatever you were reading. His writer brain was romanticizing your entire existence, was picturing you under him, in his arms, consumed, defiled, claimed. A pretty little thing dancing in the rain, running towards him, laughing, the outline of your breasts visible for anyone to see.
Henry Miller wouldâve been one jealous fucker if heâd ever known you were out there, years ahead of him, a muse for the taking. Namjoon thanked every fucking God known for putting you in his way. Bukowski would be having a field day fantasizing about your honey dripping thighs and sweet pussy. You are every writerâs dream, sweetheart, and do you even realize?
âBeautiful choice,â he comments on the book in your lap, coming to stand over you, desperately trying not to lose it over your angel features.
You jump, startled, and look up to witness the most breathtaking man youâve ever come across in your life, smiling down at you. You smile back without meaning to, your back straightening, your shoe clad feet touching the pavement.
âAnaĂŻs is for the bold,â you retort, voice light, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair opposite you.
Heâs massive, with strong arms and long legs. He thanks you softly and takes the seat, paper cup in hand, eyes piercing through you in an identifiable way. You shiverâblame it on the chilly day.
âAre you bold, then?â He asks cryptically, leaning into you. You feel exposed, but intrigued. So incredibly intrigued.
You falter in giving him your answer. You donât even know his name. You donât think it matters. âIâI try, I think.â
He smirks, and pulls away, taking with him his amber scent and magnetism. You miss it as soon as itâs gone. You reason with yourself, try to find an explanation for your thoughtâs reactionâyour bodyâs.
âIâm Namjoon, sweetheart. What should I call you?â His voice was velvet; deep, and manly. It radiated through you.
Closing the book, you instead chose to hold your coffee cup between your hands, a distraction from the intense man pinning you down with those dark eyes. His black leather jacket accentuated his big shoulders, the buzz cut on the top of his head making him appear meaner than he actually was. Namjoon was older, you could tell. It scared you, but in the way rollercoasters make you nervous, or in the way thunder cracked in the night, somewhere far away, miles and miles from you. Bark with no bite.
â(Y/N),â you reply, licking your dry lips.
He follows the movement. âPrettyâ(Y/N),â he tries it in his mouth, the sound sinful, inviting. âItâs beautiful.â
He sees your cheeks flush crimson, your head dropping to hide. Namjoon is an intuitive person, a risk-taking man. His fingers reach out, his index lifting your face to look at him. Your breathing has changed, youâre not accustomed to flirting, much less compliments from strangers, itâs all there for him to see. His innocent baby. Heâd take his time with you. You deserved nothing lessâheâd give you the fucking world, if you so wished.
âAre you a lover of books?â You ask, wanting to break the incantation, disperse the intensity of the moment.
His hand drops, the touch that lit a fire inside of you burning still, bright and strong heading lower, in between your legs, gone in an instant. You mourned for it, yearned for his hand to come back, touch you somewhere else. Your thoughts were shameless, your deepest desires but a breath away.
âYou could say that,â he sips from his cup, calm and collected, legs crossed, studying you. âIâm a writer.â
âNo way!â You exclaim, your cute reaction eliciting a laugh out of him. How adorable, he thinks, watching your nose scrunch up, your small, fuckable mouth curving in a smile that knocks the wind out of him.
âWhat about you, angel?â
âIâm a sophomore in college. Literature.â
Of course you are, his smart girl. He needs you to know, before he proceeds. He needs you to vocally say itâs okay for him to court you, to make you his. He wonât lay another finger on you until you do so.
âSweetheart, you understand the age gap between us, donât you?â
The part you dreaded. The truth. âYes,â you say loud enough for just him to hear.
Namjoon leaves his now cold drink on the table, leans forward, forearms resting on top of his knees, fingers lacing together, a serious expression on his flawless face. Is this how it happens, you think? One day, out of the blue, no warning, no signs? Love, plainly in sight, asking you to accept it? You canât say no. You donât want to say no, knowing the difficulties, the struggles that entails.
âOne word of yours and Iâm out of your life. Youâre holding the reigns,â he explains, but his eyes are terrified of you rejecting this, of scorning him, of sending him away after heâs found you, an oasis after a long dry desert.
He wants to love you madly. He wants to fuck you senseless, and ruin you for any other man. Most of all, he wants you to want the same things. Eight years isnât a lot, but itâs a lifetime apart.
âYouâyou like me?â Your lips fall open, your chest deflates.
Oh, sweetheart, you might not be ready for what I feel for you, what Iâm planning to do to youâitâs beyond words. Beyond reason.
âAs soon as I saw you. Iâm not a talkative person, (Y/N), I donât walk up to just any girl.â There go those eyes again, haunting your soul, turning you inside out.
You blink, surprised at his honesty, at the bluntness of his words. In your twenty years on this earth, youâve never been more sure of anything. This man will show you things youâve never seen before, take you to places youâve only dreamed of. Heâs experienced, heâs an all rounded person.
Heâs handsome. His mouth begs to be kissed.
âI like you too,â you admit, but refuse to meet his gaze.
He canât have that. His fingers shoot out again, gently bringing your face level to his. Rain droplets release themselves from the puffy clouds. You donât react to any of it, hypnotized under him, under his irresistible touch.
âIt will be more than that. I need to know if youâll be able to handle it, pretty girl. Iâm not going to be your high school boyfriend.â
âI understand.â Your thighs clench together, your breathing erratic.
Namjoon notices, of course he does. âAre you a virgin, baby?â
Your eyelashes flutter, the red painting your cheeks turning a shade darker, your skin hot under his palm. Heâs closer than ever, this broad man asking if he can take care of you. Youâre endeared. Your heart is weak.
âIâmâno. A boy in my senior year,â you reply, embarrassed. Excited.
His eyes flash, something dark stirring in them, before itâs gone instantly. Jealousy. But, why? You couldnât have possibly known, and even thenâŠthe danger. The forbidden. No, that couldnât have been it.
Why hadnât you waited? Who dared touched you before him? His muse, his perfect girl. Thoughts that had no place being voiced out loud, in fear of sounding insane. He would never admit to them.
âThen tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?â
His lips were but a breath away. You wanted to give in so badly, anything he wanted, youâd become pudding in his hands, melt away if that meant youâd be with him, if that meant heâd take you with him everywhere. His question. You stayed silent.
âUse your words, (Y/N). Iâm not doing anything without your consent.â
You were so wet. So incredibly wet. If only he knew the influence his words had on you⊠He only had to reach a hand under your dress, touch your core. Then heâd realize just how inexperienced you truly were.
âNever,â you whisper.
You exchanged breaths, your eyes falling shut in the thought of his lips on yours, and it almost happened, the ghost of them faintly pressing, a gentle caress, before he pulls away completely, his hand finding yours, pulling you up with him.
âSweetheart, you have no idea what you just did to me,â an arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you closer, your head at level with his chest, a man, standing before you, asking to have you.
âI should wait, I should take you out and make sure youâre fed, take care of you, every fucking inch of you, before I even begin to thinkâdo you want this?â His voice is vibrating, filled with his desire, breath now tickling your ear, a whisper between lovers.
You just met Namjoon. You donât know anything about him, nothing but your attraction to him. Your bodyâs reaction. So what if this was a bad decision? He didnât look like a bad guy. Anais Nin wasnât second guessing herself when she fell into an affair with Henry Miller. It just happened, their souls spoke to each other clearly. Could this be what was happening?
You wanted him inside you. You wanted what he offered, every bit of it. Yes, yes, yes.
âTake me with you, Namjoon.â
Together you run, belongings forgotten; the rain had turned from a faint whispering to a thundering roar in a split second, and it didnât take long for the both of you to get completely drenched in it, tasting sky water, your small hand in his bigger one, holding tight, fingers intertwining.
He only had to look back once. Your dress was see-through, he could see your white undergarments, the silk of your panties, the cups of your bra. Namjoon growled, a guttural noise boiling from his throat. Immediately, he pulled you in between two buildings, a narrow alleyway leading to apartmentsâ fire escapes unraveling in the length of it.
Leading you under a small shed, he made sure you were against the wall, covered, while he let his arms rest above your head, your bodies touching. He looked down at you, his breathing labored, and he saw the skin glistening, the fabric sticking on every curve, those pink lips open, fast breaths exhaled.
He kisses you, then. Takes your lips as his own, traps you in his embrace. You taste like cold rain, but when his tongue slips past, thereâs hints of coffee with milk. Namjoon smiles against your mouth, hands getting lost in your hair, steadying themselves at the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw, your chinâyou fit right into him, so small, so precious. Heâs going to love corrupting you, tainting you.
âHas anyone ever touched youâŠhere?â His fingers bunch your dress up, dip under it, over your slick. You gaspâhe marvels at your expression.
âNo? Baby talk to me, use your pretty mouth,â he kisses you again, his digits moving over your panties. Youâre moving with them, rubbing against them, itâs all wet wet wetâ
âNo one.â Your nails dig into his jacket. He sighs dreamily; youâre a vision for him. An angel send.
âDid that boy not know how to please you, baby? He just shoved his fucking dick in you carelessly?â His voice grew rough, anger rippling through him. âYou deserve so much better than that, sweetheart. You deserve to be loved, to be caressedâŠâ
With one hand slipping inside your panties, fingers curling, entering you slowly, the other one ran up and down your thigh, gripping at your waist, snaking its way to the small of your back, and back down. You couldnât focus on anything but the pumping movements inside you, the long digits bringing you pleasure, making your cunt ache, clench around them.
Namjoon was hiding you from view with his entire body. This was only for him to see, but it also served as a test. To see how far you were willing to go with him.
âYouâre doing so well, my sweet girl. So tight, so wet for me⊠I want to taste you, baby, I want to inhale you. Will you let me?â
Your moans were music to his ears. They started as low pants, your hand blocking most of them, your cheeks that familiar pink shade. He saw it happen, as his fingers curled a specific way, the way your legs fell open wider, the way your voice turned a pitch higher than before, unable to hold back, helpless against your pleasure. Namjoon was rock hard, stifled in his pants.
But that would come shortly. First, he needed to show youâwhat he can do. What you could have every single day, everywhere, as soon as you spoke the words. Heâd cater to your every need, be whatever you wanted him to be. As long as he could have you, take you, own you.
A smack on your ass. Your eyes shot open, staring wide at him. He lifted you up at once, arm under those plump cheeks, his fingers still fucking your cunt vigorously. You yelped, held onto his shoulders in fear of falling, but quickly grew overwhelmed, your volume rising. Fuck him, youâre so fucking hot.
âTell Daddy, my sweet girlâwill you let me have a taste of your cunt?â
âOh, please,â you whined, your head falling in the crook of his neck, your thoughts a jumbled mess. âPlease.â
He neednât be told twice. With your feet planted firmly on the ground again, he removed his hand from your panties, kneeling down in front of you, rain sipping through him, as he lifted your dress up. Namjoon looked up at you through his eyelashes, before he ripped that silk right off you, diving right into your slick.
Divine. Heâs had a lot of sex, has tasted a lot of women, but none could ever compare to you, to your sweet fucking cunt. It was pure Heaven. And the way your back curved against the wall, pushing his head into you, his tongue swiping your wetness, sucking your clitâit was enough to make you cum. He slurped all of it up, fingers finding their way again into your warm hole. Heâd blow, he fucking swears. Your beautiful voice moaning out his name, wet all over, a Goddess for him, as he laps your intoxicating juices. He drinks you up, he makes it his lifeâs mission.
âFucking tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever had a lick of this pussy? You know it belongs to me now, donât you?â
You nod your head, losing your mind. He hasnât even fucked you yet, and youâre convulsing this hard. His baby.
âWords.â
âYes, daddy, yes! Please,â you sob, âpleaseâŠfuck me, pleaseâŠâ
He locks you in place, his hands on your ass, determined to make you cum with his tongue, before his cock is anywhere near you. His impatient girl, so lost in feeling, such a slut for him, for what heâs giving you. Heâs never had such a perfect woman.
When he started working both his fingers and mouth again, this time aggressively, his only motive was to get that pussy to drench him, to have your cum dripping from his chin. And it did just that when his thumb flicked over your clit relentlessly, tongue moving just underneath, three fingers deep. Your nails dug into his scalp, your entire body convulsing. He rubbed his stubby jaw on your lips, inhaling deeply. Your scent, uniquely yoursâhe now knew how you smelled. Truly. He would never be able to let you go.
âFuck, sweetheart, youâre killing me. Ready for me? Ready to give me another one?â He muttered, hands on your breasts, dropping kisses on your neck, before unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. âI love the way you cum. I canât wait to have you on my bed, have my way with you. Youâll let me, yes baby? Youâll let Daddy defile you, pretty thing?â
You looked down at his girth, swallowing thickly. Namjoon chuckled darkly, allowing you to see what would enter you. He pumped himself a couple times, his other hand rubbing your pussy, making sure you were wet enough for him. You just looked so fucking innocent, all fucked out. He attacked your mouth once again, biting down on your lip.
âDo you taste yourself? My delicious fucking girl.â
He enters you slowly, brows furrowed, savoring the tightness. Once he bottoms out, he stills in you, letting you get used to him, his will made of iron. Your fingers wrap around his biceps as you take a deep breath through the sting of his cock.
âAre you okay, baby?â He asks, worried.
âYes,â you reply at once. âGo on.â
He hikes your thigh up and around his torso, as he lifts you up. You wrap around him and thatâs fucking itâhe loses it. His cock brutally starts pistoling into you, holding you tight against him. You meet his thrusts halfway, before it becomes too much for you to handle, instead becoming his personal little fuck doll to pound senseless. And he does. His moves are exact; sharp, and precise. Heâs hitting everything inside you, the position as well as the thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim, until all you can think is him him him, inside your cunt, fucking you dumb.
âCall me by my name, sweetheart,â he pants in your ear, bouncing you on his dick.
âNamjoon,â you weakly moan, your breaths coming short, on the brink of passing out.
âMy name,â he repeats harshly, ramming into you once, twiceâ
You throw your head back in ecstasy. âDaddy! Fuck, donât stop! Keep fucking me please, please, Iâm so fucking close daddy, please!â
âThatâs my fucking angel.â
He does just that, until he can feel you spasming, until youâre screaming, begging, crying, coming on his cock, his desperate whore, getting fucked so good, isnât she, bounce on my fucking dick, baby, ride it out, thatâs right, milk me, fucking own me, my sweet fucking baby, youâre so beautiful, so fucking hot, give me a kissâ
âWhere do you want me, baby? Tell Daddy, fuck youâre clenching me so goddamn hard right now, sweetheart, please.â
âInside, please inside, I want your cum inside of me, please,â you beg, and he almost fucking chokes on his spit.
His thrusts are fast, hard and sloppy now, bruising your pussy, chasing after his own release, his mouth filthyâyou want me inside this fucking cunt, donât you my perfect fucking baby, my little slut, youâre gonna let daddy paint your walls white, wonât you, squeeze me dry, baby, fuck, come on, clench those tight fucking walls, goddamn you, I want to die in this pussy, please babyâ
His arms tighten around you as he comes, and you let him; you let him calm down, for his breathing to even out, as he slips out of you, and carefully unwraps your legs from his hips, planting kisses on your shoulders, water dripping from his hair. The thunderstorm still hasnât passed, raging on beyond the shelter of this shed.
âIâve never experienced anything like this,â you confess as he fixes your hair, your dress, adjusts the straps, gives you his jacket to make up for the lack of underwear, and even though itâs several sizes too big on youâhe cares.
It wasnât just a lie to have a quickie with you. He took his time to explore your body, to study what makes you tick, what sends you over the edge. You didnât even know his last name, but he knew his way around your pussy the best, better than you it felt like.
His eyes are fond, staring down in adoration. âI want to make you feel good for as long as you let me, sweetheart. Iâm not here to hurt you.â
You hug him, then, your arms not quite reaching all around him. But itâs enough for him. More than enough. He thinks heâll fall in love with you so easily. Youâre the most adorable thing heâs ever witnessed. He wants to hide you away, put you in his pocket and carry you everywhere.
âWhatâs your last name?â You ask innocently, head still buried in his chest.
He barks a laugh out, squeezing you in him, the vibration of it radiating through you. âShouldâve mentioned it, huh? Itâs Kim, angel. Kim Namjoon.â
âKim Namjoon,â you try it. It soundsâŠwholesome. âHi, Kim Namjoon.â
âHello, baby.â
The two of you stood there for a long time, waiting the storm out in each otherâs arms. Namjoon couldnât stop smiling, didnât want to, never wanted to, ever again.
You couldnât stop staring at himâhe felt like the sun peeking after the gray of the clouds. Warm, important.
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More Posts from Gworlmoss
camera shy
pairing: yoongi x reader (f) summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (itâs a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour warnings: smut â oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (theyâre married itâs fine), terribly thought-out plot note: hello!!! i havenât written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the âcurrent timelineâ but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but thatâs where the title came from and i couldnât think of another. okay. anyway.Â
Being on tour is exhausting.
Youâre not sure you have the right to complain â youâre not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husbandâs emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you.Â
And youâre dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely â the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence â being an idolâs wife didnât really make you the most⊠sympathetic character.Â
So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum.Â
âIf I have to duck out of one more cameramanâs way todayâŠâ you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs.Â
âThereâs only so long they can spend in your room,â he placates. âAnd tomorrow youâll have use of the business centre again.â
You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. Youâre finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then â
âThatâs it!â you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression.Â
âWhoops,â he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where heâd bumped the desk. âShould probably keep that closed.â
You see red. Just as youâre about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears.Â
âJagiya,â Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. âIâm sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.â
You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. Heâs turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in.Â
Itâs not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed â a BTS memberâs first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldnât afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didnât give a shit about anyone who wasnât the star. âNo,â you shake your head, âIâm sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. Iâll try to be good.â
At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. âIâm not asking for a miracle,â he teases. âJust a little patience.â You roll your eyes. You can behave.Â
Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. âIf that man crosses me one more time, Iâm going to kill him. And Iâm going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.â
âââââ xxx âââââ
Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. Heâs never more radiant than when heâs singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fansâ eyes â gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all.Â
And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you.Â
But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You canât exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel.Â
So you stay behind tonight. Itâs the last day of the American leg, and youâve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines.Â
You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because youâd promised your boss an exclusive â first dibs on Agust Dâs experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldnât be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) youâre excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin.Â
But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Koreaâs impact on global fashion getting to the finish line.Â
âYes!â you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera thatâs trained on the desk Yoongiâs claimed and flip it the bird.Â
Job done and borderline invasive filming (itâs only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, thereâs not much left to do but wait.Â
When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesnât provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. Itâs not technically work if youâre just reading a dozen trashy âWho Wore It Best?â segments. âAnne Hathaway, hwaiting!â you mutter to yourself.
âââââ xxx âââââ
A couple hours later, youâre still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard.Â
âUnnie, are you okay?â asks Ari, one of the stylists. âI was coming to call you to eat!â
âOh, youâre all back! One sec!â You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ariâs surprised face greeting you. âThanks, Ari-yah,â you grin, locking arms with her. âHow was the show?â
âIt was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.â Her face screws up a little. âHe ripped another one of the jackets, though.â
An inconvenience to her, but you donât share the irritation. Yoongiâs broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. âOh,â you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, âthatâs annoying.â Ari snorts.
âSure. At least itâs new costumes for the next leg. Weâll refit them.â
You practically vibrate with excitement at that. âI havenât seen them yet! Iâm sure you all did an awesome job!âÂ
She blushes. âI think itâll be good! Theyâre not totally finalized yet, but Iâll send you a ton of pictures.â Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly.Â
Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they shouldâve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.
âCome on,â you hear him grumble. âItâs not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.â
You snort. âAnd then tomorrow youâll say âtomorrow never comesâ.â If it were happening to someone else, youâd never let them live down how quickly their husbandâs head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute.Â
Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesnât miss a beat. âGreat, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,â he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again.Â
Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each otherâs plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyoneâs obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover.Â
And youâre right, because right after heâs done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. Youâre a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers.Â
As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband.Â
But when you open the door, heâs already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks â sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He mustâve gone straight from the shower to his desk.
After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters.Â
âHey!â he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. âI was waiting for you.â
âClearly,â you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking âdid I interrupt something?â
âNo,â he assures you. âI got everything important down. You were right on time.â His fingers are drumming on your thigh like thereâs still something on his mind, but youâre feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.
âApparently, I was late.â His hair is cold when you ruffle it. âLet me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, canât get sick.â
Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldnât think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didnât even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.
Thereâs still a restlessness about him when youâre done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. âLetâs go to bed.â The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him â hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.
Thereâs a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. âCome here,â he says softly. âI missed you.â
In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. âOof,â you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.
âDummy,â he teases. âNot even safe in a cushy hotel room.â You kick at his shin.
âQuit giving me bedroom eyes then.â You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. âYes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.â
He moves your hand away, unimpressed. âIt is a funny joke,â he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if heâd said it, you wouldâve laughed. Youâre down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.
Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself.Â
Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything youâre thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. âI love you,â he murmurs, and he kisses you.
Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate.Â
This isnât a kiss just because, or goodnight or Iâll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.
You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so heâs over you, braced on his forearm. Itâs urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat.Â
He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like itâs an hour.
When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize â itâs been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder youâre so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth.Â
He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.
He pulls away again with a low chuckle. âIâve been neglecting you, my love,â he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.
âYouâve been such a good wife,â he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. âShh, let your husband take care of you.â
He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. âHi,â he whispers.
âYoongi,â you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again.Â
âIâll make you feel good,â he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know heâs going to leave marks, but you canât bring yourself to care. Itâs been so long since youâve felt properly like his. âSmell so sweet,â he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. âSweet, sweet girl.â
You moan, sensitive from his touch. âYouâre ââ he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. âYouâre unusually talkative tonight.â
He smiles up at you. âYou like it,â he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what heâs going to do to you.
You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. âYour fucking tongue,â you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.
âTaste fucking perfect,â his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him.Â
Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. âNeed to see you, jagi.â He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.
âThatâs my girl,â he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you â fuck. He knows exactly what heâs doing.
âYoongi, please,â you choke. Itâs getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. Youâre so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.
âPretty, pretty,â he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someoneâs set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.
âAhhh-hhhh,â you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like heâd just set a firecracker off inside of you â buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth.Â
He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. Itâs so, so wet youâre sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. âCareful, baby,â he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. âWatch me.â
You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though youâre barely there, like heâs just using this to get himself off â except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows â shit shit itâs almost too much already.
âFuck, baby, please,â you plead breathily, not even sure what youâre asking for. Heâs already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places heâs touching you â big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. Heâd taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. âI need â I nee ââ you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.
âDonât worry, love,â he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. âI know what my girl needs.â On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way heâs pressing you into the mattress
Youâd teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. âTongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where youâre not bragging about how good you eat pussy?â Heâd only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didnât.Â
Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast heâs pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene.Â
âAnother?â he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low itâs become. You nod frantically, knowing youâre close.Â
When he adds his ring finger, you know youâre done for. Thereâs a searing heat all down your body â your bellyâs tight, your feet digging into Yoongiâs back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. Itâs building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips â
âThatâs it, fuck, baby,â he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way youâre gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.
âNâmore,â you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way youâve drenched him.Â
He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. âPussy monster,â you sigh deliriously.
He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more.Â
Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess heâs made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver.Â
âCold, sweetheart?â he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, downâŠ
âWarm me up,â you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further.Â
âFuck,â he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. Itâs evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist.Â
You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. Youâre still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. âBaby,â you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. âNeed it,â you whisper into his mouth. âHow do you want me?â
Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. âHow does my sweet girl want it?â
You flush even warmer. âLike this,â you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.
Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes â heâs already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. âThe abs are new. I like them.â Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands.Â
âFuck,â he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. âYouâre in for it now.â
âThen fucking give it to me.â
He kisses you again, and heâs just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way heâs pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks â slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, heâd work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in.Â
Unfortunately for him, youâre worked up enough. Heâs grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you havenât had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since youâd met is driving you insane.
âTake off your fucking pants, Yoongi,â you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. âIf you donât fuck me right now ââ
He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.
He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but itâs gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.
âSo wet,â he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and thereâs only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and â âFuck.â
âYoongi!â you cry out. His fingers hadnât done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. âOh ââ
âI must be out of my fucking mind,â he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think youâre going to lose your mind. âHow did I go without this for so long?â
He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. âY-Yoon â â you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point.Â
âMy gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy â shit.â He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you canât think of anything but the way heâs filling you so good. The way you hadnât realized youâd needed.Â
Youâre blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face.Â
âSo pretty,â he murmurs, kissing the tears away. Heâs still going, deeper now instead of fast. âCan you give me one more, love?â
Youâre dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. âYeah,â you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in.Â
Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you.Â
âShit, shit,â Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. Heâs close. âLove you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,â his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. âDo I make you feel good?â
âY-yes,â you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and itâs enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. âYoongi!â
âFuuuck,â he grunts. âSqueeze me just like that,â and heâs coming too.Â
You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where youâre touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But youâre content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear.Â
âShouldâve used a condom,â you say hoarsely. Thereâs going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it.Â
âFucking raw used to be so hot,â he sighs, kissing your cheek. âNow itâs a chore.â
Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips.Â
âReel it in.â You boop his nose and he scrunches it. âI really cannot go another round. Youâre gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.âÂ
âââââ xxx âââââ
And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongiâs in.Â
He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face.Â
By the time youâve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you donât worry about the mess youâve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away.Â
Heâs soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. âThank you,â he mumbles. You donât have to ask him what he means.Â
You laugh softly. âSilly,â you say, drifting off.
đ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„ș
I heard pic requests Mindy and I bring you...

While You're Sleeping
warnings: heavy angst, reader unleashes some insecurities to Jimin while he's sleeping, mentions of divorced parents and anxiety
wc: 1.6K
pic requests are CLOSED.
There's something different about his skin in the morning time. It's softer, more sensitive, and all around pretty. When you trace over his back, between his spine, you can feel him breathing beneath your fingers and it's as if nothing matters anymore but the oxygen entering his lungs. As long as he's breathing next to you, everything is okay.
Last night rummages through your mind like an old movie, scenes of cuddling on the couch and laughing at your favorite comedian on the television. Jimin's arms wrapped around you tightly, your body striving to be closer to him if by any means possible. It feels as though you've known him for a million years. He's an angel with the dust of the stars in his eyes. He's someone you don't mind being stuck inside with for days on end, and that's saying something.
For the first time you gave yourself to him completely. You discovered a new way to express love and it only furthers your desire to find more ways.
You know this life doesn't last forever, but right now it kinda feels like it might. You want it to. Despite the laziness in your eyes, you keep them locked on his messy hair as your fingers run through it lovingly.
You love him. Or course you do, how could you not? His tattoos and tired eyes, gentle hums and kisses across your skin. Not loving him would be a crime too horrible to even imagine.
"Baby?" you whisper through the early morning rays gently kissing his cheeks and the warmth from his side of the bed, "you're asleep, right?"
Because you really can't have him awake for these next few moments, not to hear what you're about to say. Not yet anyway. Jimin can sleep through just about anything, you just hope he's sleeping through this.
As much as you love him, you feel so guilty. Jimin is the type of guy who loves with everything he has, everything he possibly can. He gives his all to his lover and he's given his all to you. But you're not that way, not naturally.
"I think I'm almost ready," you confess to his absent ears and unknowing unconscious, "almost ready to say it. Although, I'm...I'm nervous now that it's time to verbally express it. If I was more of a romantic, I would say something like I knew from the moment I saw you. But, baby, that just isn't me."
It's hard measuring up to the hopeless romantic Park Jimin is. Being his partner means being constantly showered in uninhibited affection. Affection you don't feel worthy of receiving, not if this relationship is supposed to be an equal give and take.
"When we met," you continue to whisper, pressing yourself to his back, feeling the gentle way he breathes and it helps calm you a bit, "I was terrified. Because you were so kind and adorable and funny and I wasn't. I was scared. Scared I would embarrass myself or say something stupid and offend you. Fuck I still am, to be honest."
He shifts in his sleep, pausing your words for a moment while he readjusts and you feel him pull your arm over his waist and into his chest. He cuddles it like a teddy bear, never once waking but still treasuring you close to his heart like he said he would.
You sigh. Even his unconscious state is romantic. Does he not see how difficult he makes things for you when he does stuff like this? Who in this goddamn ruined world is this genuinely sweet and attentive? Even when they sleep?
You're lying here, practically naked next to him and he's the one who's so damn perfectly warm and soft. You're just cold. It hurts a little bit.
"Can I tell you a secret?" you ask, but of course he doesn't answer. "Remember when you said you were so proud you could make my heart race so easily? That pounding in my chest...that's fear. I'm anxious that I'm gonna mess something up, say something wrong, do something stupid and...god, I can't even imagine it. What if I lose you?"
Life without Jimin is unimaginable now that you've spent so much time with him. He is your solid center, the cornerstone for everything else standing up straight, the main thing that keeps blood pumping through your veins. Maybe you should consider just how much you depend on him but that's just the way things happened. And you don't hate it. As much as it pains you to be without him, being with him feels so worth it.
The idea of losing him...it kills you inside. Your emotional instability can't handle the idea of that kind of reality, not after it's experienced what it's like to be affirmed by the most incredibly supportive and encouraging man you've ever met.
Life changed when you fell in love with him, but you've never had the guts to say it to his face. Telling his sleeping state is the closest you've gotten to being completely vulnerable in front of him.
"I'm sorry, I'm rambling but I need to work through this stuff and you're the one I always go to. Baby, you're the one I talk to about everything, so when the topic is you, who should I go to?" You sigh and try to cut your ramblings to the end. "Okay here's my point. You asked me earlier, where I see our relationship going. And I so appreciate how hard you tried not to push it and to make it easy for me. You tried so fucking hard to sound casual, but baby, I could hear it in your voice, I could see it in your eyes, what you wanted me to say."
It was obvious to you. He's said it already several times and you've avoided saying it back for weeks. Not because it isn't true, but because as soon as you say it all this pretending to be cool about things, all this casual cuddling on the couch, and making out when you're bored, and waking up in the same bed. It all means something special. And you're not special like Jimin is special.
"If you asked me a year ago if I would be in bed with a guy even half as amazing as you are..." you slowly slide your leg over his hip and wrap yourself around his cuddly frame like a koala, "...I'd laugh. Never in the million years did I think I would let someone this close. But now I can't stand the thought of not being this close. You know what happened to my mom and dad." They're problems aren't your problems and their mistakes aren't your mistakes, but you still feel the need to bring them up. "In the end, their 'love' wasn't enough to keep lust from driving them apart. The thought of seeing you cry the way my dad cried, I just...I don't want that."
The thought of letting someone past the stern exterior you built was horrifying to say the least. Truly the most insanely terrifying thing you've done up to this day was allowing your friend, Jimin, to penetrate that barrier and make you feel like more than just a bag of bones on a floating rock in space waiting for the end of her lifespan to hurry up and count down the days.
The things that boy did for you and your appreciation for the universe are unbelievable and you will never be able to repay him. But he doesn't want gratitude or compensation, and maybe that's the hardest part. Knowing that nothing you do will ever be able to pay back for the sheer joy you get from seeing his precious eye smile, his pinky finger, his pout when he sleeps.
You sneak a kiss to his neck and taste the skin there for the first time since the sun woke up. "Thanks for breaking my walls, baby. I know how much you hate it when I talk bad about myself, how you say it makes your blood boil. You say I deserve the best, but darling, you're the best and there's no way in hell I deserve you."
Peaking over his shoulder, you double check his eyes are still softly shut before leaning in close to his ear and parting your lips.
Not everything needs to change, but what does need to adjust is your perception of things and you know that. Jimin isn't perfect, although most days he feels that way to you. But he tries to be and his perfectionism makes for some hard emotional times. There needs to be a little more confidence and little less stubbornness from both of you.
"I love you." Fuck you really said it. "That's what all this comes down to. I fucking love you, Park Jimin."
"Really?"
You startle, rolling away but he's quick to flip over and drag you back to his side of the bed by your hips. You're pressed into his body, trapped by his legs intertwining with yours and his palms holding your waist.
"You were awake?"
Jimin smiles sleepily at you and nods. He heard all that? Everything?
"Why didn't you say something?"
"Sounded like you needed me to be asleep. So I let you talk it out with yourself first. But when I heard you say that," he sighs and leans his forehead against yours, "I can't sleep through a confession like that. Not when I'm desperately in love with you too."
The tears in your eyes are solely from being startled and you will not argue about it!
His lips find you in a deep kiss, one that secures all your anxieties and fears about him hearing your little speech. And in that split moment, things are okay.
"I've got you," he whispers against your lips, lulling you into himself easily and soothingly until you can't remember where you end and he begins, and honestly you don't want to. "Let's go back to sleep."
::
Joonie losing mind over puppy is me losing mind over him đđ








the pure joy on joonieâs face when he finally held the puppy đ„ș for @namchyoon ⥠(trans. cr. @taee)
Fuck me Line đ„”đ„”đ„”đ„”

220416 - Permission To Dance
This is the most incredible story I have come across đ„șđ„șđđ
the train of lost souls
âł fantasy au
â pairing: jungkook | reader, hoseok | reader â genre: angst and tiny bits of fluff â word count: 13.610 â warnings: mentions of past death â authorâs note: I promise itâs not tragic, though it might seem like it at first. pls believe in me! :)) on another note, letâs just pretend they are all the same age here, since I planned the story that way~
The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options.
You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone youâve ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile â all of it, completely gone.
Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.
You are dead, but itâs up to you to do something about it.
The choice is solely yours.
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