Plums & Melons | 04

⇾ plums & melons | 04

gif © parkejimins (deactivated)

—  jimin x female!reader

— drama, smut || brother’s best friend!au

— the sexual tension is real and insane, dick pics, tit fucking, oral sex, dirty talk, cum marking, the fear of getting caught, bits of possessiveness, uh also they kind of play no nut november but in august and it lasts a total of (14 hours) yikes

— 15.8k

The long running game between you and your brother’s best friend started when you noticed his fascination with boobs—yours specifically. It was never supposed to amount to more than harmless flirting and lingering glances, but now, one year later, Jimin was ready to change that.

↳ alternatively : Jimin and you play a game. the loser is fucked. metaphorically. literally. all of the above??

01::02::03::04::05 (final)

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ZOOM CALL

⇢ THE MASTERLIST

summary: In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window. genre: fluff, slice of life, eventual smut (tags tba) warnings: comfort fic, quarantine fic, slow medium burn, mutual crushes, college au, ditzy but studious jk, best boy jk, pining, [jk voice] its… the yearning? rating: m (18+) status: ongoing

⇢ M E E T I N G S

ONE the first day of classes — dec 08 2020

TWO the group project — jan 3 2021

THREE the campus prince — feb 20 2021

FOUR the pre-movie panic — jul 17 2021

TAG LIST — by liking this post you will be tagged for ALL future updates ! :)

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

the happiest place on earth (m)

➾ 24k 

➾ summary: in this life, you have two goals. 1. get park jimin to notice you. 2. get into Broadway. (not necessarily in that order). you and jimin have been crew members at Disneyland for over a year, but he’s no closer to being your boyfriend than you are to getting into Broadway. when you get promoted from a fur character to a face character, your hopes and dreams of playing Princess Ariel opposite his Prince Eric are this close to coming true. But what happens when you’re tasked to play the Evil Queen instead? 

slice of life au, incredibly cheesy towards the end. basically a lot of fluff with some smut :)

➾ warnings: protected sex, oral (f receiving) this one is pretty mild tbh

➾ a/n: for the purpose of this fic, let’s ignore that Sesame Street and Disney are own by two different companies 🙃 happy 25/26th birthday to one mr park jimin, the only Prince Charming I’ll ever fall for 💓 this is just a warning of the cheesiness to come 🧀

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✿ m.list ✿

Warning: Most of these fanfictions are smut, do not copy or translate my writing and if you’re underage please do not read, thank you!

Note: I write more about jungkook or taehyung.. I can’t resist them…

✿━ click HERE to ask me stuff :)

Last Updated: 25/12/21.

M(mature) F(fluff) A(angst)

KIM NAMJOON

• It’s Ok M You wanted to give your boyfriend a blowjob but.. things doesn’t go as planned..

drabbles;

• when you give him those eyes M

JEON JUNGKOOK

Needy M that one jungkook drinking wine from that Vlive, yep.

Friends With Benefits M 

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Meditations on love.....well...I do LOVE this expanded picture of what this nebulous expansive sea of a feeling means. It’s so refreshing (and a reflective experience for me) to see this greater exploration into what meaning people hold to each other. And how perfectly apt that it came to be in a Namjoon-centered chapter. The musings in this fic could truly stand alone as their own

#6.5 Namjoon Discovers the Definition of Love (His Own)

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

▶ type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly)

▶ word count: 2.3k

▶ warning: internalized heterosexism

▶ series’ masterlist

▶ other works

▶a/n: so technically this was supposed to be published before the last update, but it's past anyway so it doesn't matter hehe... Anyway, as you can see this fic is marked as poly and some of you might be *insert squinting woman meme* asking where is it? Where's the poly, bro? Not to go too poetic, but the poly relationship in this fic is not purely based on physical content, (cough s*x), it's the way they don't leave each other, try to help, work as a team, you know, like that. Not only as part of LGBTQ+ community but just as a human being, I've seen all sorts of love. Not only the range is so varied, but it's also so personalized, so in short, this is a softer depiction of what love is in my mind. Speech over.

He slams the door shut so hard they creek in their place. This was insane. This was stupid. How could Jin not see that? What were they supposed to do? Just pack up and leave to...to where? To where Jin, that’s what he wanted to say, to shout so that he would get it through his head but Jin was adamant.

“If I have to, I will go alone,” he sighed, calmly. Completely calm. Worryingly calm.

Namjoon drops his entire weight onto the chair. It creaks and then breaks in half with Namjoon propelled to the ground like a discarded candy wrapper thrown to the wind. He does not bother to raise himself off the floor, merely laying there, staring at the ceiling and wondering how much crazier can his life get.

“Soulmates”. He knows that word. He has read it on every single bad promotion cover of a folded romance novel, he has read it on every single heartbroken poem line, he hears it from Jimin’s mouth, thrown almost casually by now.

“We’re soulmates,” he jokes, in a way, and the world laughs, not realizing that Jimin meant it quite literally.

Apparently, they were soulmates. Connected with something. That crazy lady hadn’t bothered to explain and when Namjoon became marginally more open-minded about the concept, he devoured every single piece of media he could find, including the illustrious fanfiction his fans printed out in alarmingly large numbers.

He raises his own palm to inspect it. Was it strings? Invisible ones that tied them together? He lets his palm drop to the floor. Couldn’t be. He didn’t feel them tug. Ever. So what was it?

He didn’t have marks or shared pain or strings or dreams or whispers or smell or taste, nothing, nothing at all that would tie them together and by extension to you. Nothing but this...space. Like running your tongue against your teeth and finding a missing tooth after a dentist or combing through his hair and realizing it was cut. Just this beat, quiet, surprised “oh” that informed him that something was not as it was or should be.

But how could he be just...meant to love someone? Someone, he did not know? Was it really fate or maybe delusion?

“Hadn’t it been fate, though?” he asks himself. Hadn’t it been? For Jin to get on the correct bus, for Taehyung to decide to accompany his friend on that fateful day. For him to hear “Fly” playing distinctly from his classmate’s phone. Sometimes, actually, more often than not, it all seemed so fragile. The dominos had to be placed at exactly the right moment and right place so their fall would push their paths to interact.

Yoongi always said that their lines were drawn by a very steady hand, a hand that was not their own. Of course, he was usually near slobbering drunk when he divulged these melancholic thoughts but Namjoon knew it was what he thought, deep down. That this was meant to be, in one form or another. But then if they all met didn’t it mean that you were also written in their stories, were determined to meet and yet they haven’t. He always dismissed it, saying if it was fate, then fate would bring them to you. He was persistently presumptuous in those moments, half baiting fate so he would get what he wants, half baiting just so he could pat himself on the back for being the only logical adult in their band of clowns.

That is until fate had enough of his shit and decided to poke him right in the eyes.

Specifically, have his eyes find you, recognize you on an instinct even after a decade. You were still pulling that red suitcase after you, just as you had when they first were thrust together. Fate holds his face in her palms, forces his gaze unto you and then as punishment rips you away. In twenty minutes he has to give a speech in front of the whole UN and he can’t even think because your red suitcase is slowly trailing away from him and you’re slipping through his fingers.

He had learned to forgive himself for that first time, for letting you go on that rainy evening in Daehangno. He was so young then, what was he supposed to do? Believe the word of an old fortune-teller telling them that he had some sort of loving destiny with seven other people? No, right? He’d forgiven himself for that one, but he’ll never forget what happened then, in the UN.

“Namjoon, where are you going?” Sejin yelled after him as he unexpectedly took off with your red suitcase in sight. He followed it right up until the elevator, hyping himself to say something, anything, just get to know your name, pin something to the ghost that he tried so hard to shove away on days he felt particularly lonely. And then he stopped. Why had he stopped? Why had he just stood there without doing anything?

You press the button on the elevator, going down, climbing in. Namjoon averts his eyes, looking at the wall like he’s trying to grasp where he should go. He knows where he should go, the doors were slowly closing, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t go. And the door closes, tucking away your blank expression.

“Are you hurt? Why do you look so sad? Is your face like that or had someone upset you?” had rushed through his brain, frantic.

And Kim Namjoon doesn’t see you ever again. You with your adorable red suitcase had once again vanished in the wide world that he suddenly grew aware of all too acutely.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Sejin tracked him down, presuming he was having a panic attack. “We're here for you, okay? Just come back to the stage, alright?”

What he doesn’t know is that Namjoon was perfectly calm, docile even. Entirely numbed because he, for the first time, realizes that absence could actually hurt. He delivers the speech focused and removed, his mouth moves on its own while in front of his eyes there runs a scraggly movie of his life. He will continue working, he will struggle, sometimes he’ll be happy, uplifted by others but he will never get rid of this hole. This promise that you held with your existence. The one he singularly and in typical fashion broke with his own two hands.

Namjoon had never accepted them as soulmates until this very moment.

He lies in his studio, listening to the angry car horns outside. Must be an accident.

Namjoon had difficulty accepting they were soulmates for so long because he did not understand what it meant. Soulmates were love right but what exactly did it entail?

If he went with the most basic analogy taught by his parents, it was two people finding each other, falling in love, having children and voilà. Happy life. But surely love was not only that? Couldn’t only be something so linear and simple. Humanity didn't write more than a million songs in the year, recited a thousand poems in the day only for it to be so banal, right? How could they be so obsessed with love when no one even knew what it meant?

Friends love each other, lovers loved each other, people loved their pets and one hopefully would think their pets loved them back. What was it if not love? How can something be so varied and yet seemingly purposefully blurred?

English alone had forty different words to describe the colour red, if it was darker hued it was this word, if lighter then it was this. How come then, no one, no one in thousands upon thousands of years had not categorized love into neat sections?

Alright, the Greeks had done it, but their classification remained just that: a classification. A cookie cutting shape that meant nothing for Namjoon’s heart and grieving mind. They were brothers right, he didn’t want to kiss them or anything, so that would automatically exclude one type of love, right? Except, of course, he did kiss Yoongi that one time, those ten times, first times when they were drunk underneath the guise of inebriated status. It was just playing around, nothing serious they said. Until they grew older and their world was opened up a little more, not a whole lot, but enough for a light to stream in. And Namjoon was happy about them, he never found it weird. They loved who they wanted to love, what was his business to mess with that? However, he could never admit it with ease when it was himself as the focal point.

He always had to brush it off with a joke. When he woke up next to Jin, in an incriminating lack of clothing, they did just that - brushed it aside. When Taehyung, out of excitement, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, their headphones knocking together, he merely remarked on his enthusiasm. When Jungkook, beaming ever so wide, laid a series of kisses on his forehead after a concert he just thought that he was doing his usual Jungkook things. But deep down he couldn’t not take notice of how his heart sprung out of his chest. So what did it mean? Did it mean they were soulmates and he wanted to have sex with them and yadda yadda? What was love? They based their entire career on love, more or less, thrived on it and yet seemed more ignorant about it than the rest.

It takes him years before he can broach this question, although very heavily wailed, to his therapist.

“What do you think love is?” he asks, completely unprompted and yet his therapist has that ever-present knowing expression like he has waited years for Namjoon to ask this question. Perhaps he has. Scratch that, obviously, he has.

“What do you think it means?” he retorts back and Namjoon is left to sink in the plushy couch.

“Love is...normal,” he finally pushes out, not even knowing why he said those exact words. “I mean loving something is normal, right?”

His therapist nods.

“What do you think is "normal" for you? Is "normal" love strictly romantic love for you?”

“No,” Namjoon is quick to deny, perhaps too quick. “Friends love each other, it’s no lesser love, it’s just love...Right?”

“There is no right or wrong here, Namjoon,” his therapist reminds him for what probably was the millionth time and yet he still feels that coming into this cabinet was a test he was unwittingly failing.

“Imagine love as a concept, what do you see? Try to describe it.”

Namjoon closes his eyes for better mental strain. At first and for a long time he sees nothing as expected, what appears is more so... knowledge not a clear picture.

“It’s genderless,” he mutters, “sort of like a blob.”

His therapist doesn’t write anything down and Namjoon is thankful for it.

“It’s like a blanket? Seems warm,” he continues, feeling increasingly more stupid, hearing this insane description. Love was a blanket like a blob, great one Namjoon.

Though as he reflects further on he realizes what that warmth is. It’s Jimin’s small hands, clutching onto his face as he sings down “Happy Birthday”. It’s Jin beating him with a wooden spoon, not at all painfully, yelling something, but with a hint of laughter in his voice. It’s Yoongi quietly shuffling along with a screwdriver in hand, fixing whatever Namjoon broke with an understanding expression. It’s Hoseok, pouring hours and hours into studying English so Namjoon wouldn’t have to shoulder the whole weight of communication abroad. It’s Taehyung whining into his ear to call him more, even though they see each other every day because he misses him. It’s Jungkook looking at him with stars in his eyes, never losing faith that his leader would never fail, even if he did, in Jungkook’s mind it wasn’t a failure, just a sidestep into an equally interesting tangent. It’s a red suitcase, trailing away from him, unknown, so very faint but still carrying a promise of maybe. Maybe.

Namjoon opens his eyes and the clock says he has been sitting silently for thirty whole minutes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Namjoon! Your group has an unfortunate habit of doing so,” his therapist jokes.

But for Namjoon his whole head spins because he realized something so profound, it feels like he has rediscovered an atom.

Love wasn’t classified because it couldn’t be classified. People called it the greatest emotion on Earth and that’s why it made no sense, it was entirely felt, perhaps never meant to be studied but simply experienced.

People loved in thousand and one ways and expressed it in even more, because it’s who they were and how they viewed it. It didn’t make sense because they all in the end looked at completely different things as love took shape in who or what they loved and to each was their own, be it a friend, a parent, a lover or a teddy bear. All were woven through with love, no lesser and no greater than each other.

He lies on the floor, sulking. Fate was cruel. He had thrown a middle finger into her face and she threw one right back. That crazy lady had probably run out of business already. God knows where she was and even if they find her, last time Namjoon was titled as the “egotistical idiot with a head shoved so far up his own presumption he wouldn’t see daylight even if sun would drop right on his back”. He doubted she would ever want to see them or help them ever again.

Still, this was crazy. They couldn’t just leave this whole thing behind! Of course, they would retire eventually but to resign now, pack up their bags and drift along with the wind, in search of their eighth soulmate?

This was absurd.

Ludicrous.

Delusional.

Right?

Though when push comes to shove, Namjoon’s heart says not only "maybe", but "sure". And maybe that's what soulmates were, not a grand fantasy or a divine plan, just a quiet whisper into his ear, founded on yet unfulfilled, but promising future.

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a/n (another one, I'm annoying today): Listen, listen I'm not pulling this plot out of my ass, there are actual series of events that will make sense at the very end, why was the reader at the UN when she's interior designer, who's the crazy fortune teller, how did they meet before and yet not know each other ??? trust me there is a grand masterplan at work.

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i made your favorite dish. i made you something you’ve never tried before. i love you. i spent twenty minutes chopping. my grandmother made this for me when i was little. i made this dairy free for you. i love you. i want to eat together. the onions made me cry. i love you. i learned this recipe for you. i love you. i made this special for your birthday. i love you. i know you don’t like peppers. i love you. i love you. i love you.