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STORY | knj

pairing: soft dom!namjoon x reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.8k

summary: yours and namjoon’s story is a bit more perverted than traditional.

warnings: serious big dick namjoon, rough touches, hair pulling, use of pet names and titles, dom/sub dynamics, horny namjoon can't help but palm himself:(, desperation, masturbation, spanking, praising, tit slapping, nipple play, teasing, oc and namjoon not being comfortable with certain practices, playful orgasm denial, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), rimming && ass play :3, cum eating yum yum, tit fucking, orgasm countdown fuck

note: smut is so fucking difficult to write but i loved every second of it. i love writing about namjoon, he just makes me feel so safe. this is purely my fantasy with him and i'll probably dream about this for a long, long time. please, take your time reading this as it's pretty long. i hope you enjoy it and that it makes you dream like it made me dream. as always, let me know what you think in the comments, like the post and if you want to—reblog, but i won't pressure you angels <3. love you guys so much, thank you for all the love. kisses!

side note: i miss namjoon and i wish he were here. all i can do is watch his lives and pretend he never left for the military.

Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the wooden chair before you.

The scene is set. Like a mermaid bathing in the sun, you rest your elbows on the cold rim of the ivory bathtub. Small surges of violet-tinted water, perfumed with your scent, blanket your body in a thin layer of glittery sheen. They kiss the tiger stripes along the curve of your bottom as it rolls over, passing by the dip in the small of your waist, breathing in your patchouli fragrance in greeting. The bath bomb, cornered by your knees, sizzles and spins, the width of the tub allowing your form to float like a little fish in the open sea as copiously as you please.

A gift from your loving boyfriend. Both the clawfoot, and the bath bomb.

The scene expands. Your Eric slouches in his seat, balancing his greatest and most stellar possession on top of his lap with one hand while he runs the other through his silver mane. He fits perfectly in the picturesqueness of the background. Soft orange and chocolate tiles zig zag behind his back, transposing him momentarily into a sunlit illustration, where he rests in the shade of a palm tree on a faraway beach. Reads the book to pass the time as he waits for you to emerge from the waters. Sets it down on his lap as soon as his gaze catches yours. Periwinkle clams for a bra, panties thin and translucent from the oncoming waves, you rest your front on the sand. He smiles down at you and you know for a fact you won’t be able to get on your feet. Might have to learn how to walk, too.

You keep this picture in your heart. Mentally, you rip out the page. Fold it and tuck it somewhere within you to keep it safe.

Legs outstretched by the sides of the tub, clad in slacks in the muted color of a persimmon, it’s almost as though you’re propped on his lap. Sporting a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled, you’re close enough to touch the material if you so much as wished so. From his angle, Namjoon sees nothing but the roundness of your eyes through the brownish rims of his glasses, hair unkempt in their dampness as the short paper thin layers frame your flushed face in such a celestial way. If he were to lean over, it’d be a different kind of book.

The one in the clasp of his hand isn’t a tale as old as time.

It’s one of your favorites. An existential story that ridicules the traditional. A transfusion of liveness to a certain forgotten room of your heart. The unlit one while the others brim with sunlight, with the golden sepia projection of the contents of the fairytales you love so much made into stop motion. A coloring book of some sort, hues fitting into the lines by your helping hand—the attention of your eyes. 

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. The book that sweeps away all those cobwebs in that chamber. Makes it less lonely.

It’s all you had talked about on your dates when you and Namjoon first started dating, having been reading it at the time. You had confided in him that the writer was the only person who understood you without ever learning your name, without familiarizing himself with the subtleties of your calamitous life.

No one has ever shared something so vulnerable with him, especially not on the first date. Not that he’d gone on many, but the few that fell into his grasp were hell to get through. Insufferable, to say the least. Absolutely superficial.

He went home in the rain thinking of you. Not for boyish reasons. But for reasons of literary character, of melancholy nature that squeezed his long-unexpressed heart in perpetuating intervals too consistent for his liking. Filled it with a nectar bubbling with a newly blooming love for books, with a sudden longing to be found within the words. His body decided for him that it was yours. Yours to teach again how to read between the lines.

The scene breaks out of the margins on the page.

“Is the water warm enough?”

The idea constructed by his own geniality, it’s by his will that you’re basking in your bare femininity before his eyes. Idleness lingered in the living room between the pair of you, the flimsy curtain by your balcony lifting and falling in a little dance as the cold air perfused the place with the drowsiness of winter. Pulling his eyes away from the TV to sink a soft kiss into your hair, Namjoon muttered into your ear: “How about I draw you a bath and read to you for a little bit?”

You said nothing. The click of your phone turning off and your hasty movements to untangle yourself from the warmth of his limbs answered him for you. Leaving your clothes as a trail for him to follow, you gave him a glimpse of your ass, arched and pointed in the draft before you ran away. Before he scolded you with his index finger like a father, raising to his feet to close the balcony door.

In two seconds he joined you in the bathroom. Leaned against the doorframe as you circled a pink roll-on lip oil you’ve been obsessed with lately around the perimeters of your lips. The one that makes them look bigger, juicier. That makes them more fun to kiss and toy with. The one that leaves his length sticky once playtime is over. You seem to cast aside little trinkets of yourself for him to collect everywhere you go.

Tits pushed towards each other while you slightly bent over the vanity sink, tapping the excess into the fullness of your mouth, Namjoon palmed himself. The tiredness from work earlier weakened his self-control to the point of unrestrained indulgence. And the plumpness of your ass just encouraged it.

You fluffed your hair and Namjoon ran the bath. Disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the purple bath bomb from the plastic bag on the counter, one that he got from the convenience store for you. Dragon fruit and hibiscus. Thought of the twinkle that would sparkle beneath your lashes upon seeing it. Wasn’t disappointed when you exceeded his expectations.

Having seen it in the mirror, almost microscopic and round in his big palm, you turned on your heel and burst into giddiness as he took off the plastic packaging with his teeth. You pouted in gratefulness when he showed it to you. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

You hugged him, locking your hands behind the nape of his neck. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and he told you so. A bit hoarsely, though.

Namjoon struggled not to moan. Groaned a little when he felt the curvature of your belly against his hardness and the pointed nubs of your tits beneath his pecs. Managed to conceal it, thankfully, by clearing his throat and by allowing an authentic grin to bloom on his dimpled face at your joy. Thanked the heavens for all the bath bombs in the world.

He placed it in your much smaller palm for you to plop it into the increasing water. Watched your eyes widen at the gilded glitter spreading around. Spurred you to get in. Held your hand as you lifted one limb, then the other. Knelt by you as you engulfed yourself in the violet tinge, your hair swirling around you, silky and ethereal, coming to a stop at the top of your head to fix a splendid crown for such a princess like yourself.

Namjoon turned off the tap while you rested your back against the curved wall of the tub. You swooshed your hands around, gathering the glitter into the fine lines of your palms. Looked up at him in elation, the twinkle doing its thing in the glossiness of your eyes, and smiled. Namjoon smiled back at you. His hand reached out to your chest in a fervent need to touch you. The glitter adorned your chest with its perfect speckles and they resurfaced when you arched your back in response. Clung to his palm in the middle of your tits, held on tighter as he took a detour to your chin by brushing across your sensitive nipple to hear your little mewls because if he made a sound, then you must, too. Because if he was horny, he must get you on the same page as well. Fairness is very important to Namjoon.

He squeezed your breast hard. Pinched your nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in broken intervals, similar to little dashed lines of Morse code. You imagined he was telling you something through that secret language as you closed your eyes during an intense wave of pleasure coursing down your body, and perhaps he truly did because he pulled your legs apart harshly when you pressed them together. Punished you by lightly slapping your tit—the same one he abused with those firm touches—the force splashing you in the face with violet pearls. All as if you disobeyed the command he transmitted wordlessly.

The command possibly being: Only I will give you the release you need when I decide it’s time.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the neediness erupting in you. Namjoon wrapped his hand around your throat and you dragged his rolled sleeve further up his arm, so it wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the water. He smeared your lip oil just because he wanted—just because he could, scattering the rosy tint around your mouth messily. He took advantage of the aftermath of his punishment and collected those tender beads, now translucent upon your carmine skin. Not with the thumb as you expected him to, but using the pillows of his lips, he kissed the round bulb on your cheek. It melted on the puffy surface when he withdrew. He looked you in the eye for a mere beat of time before he lowered to your other cheek to collect another trinket. None of the corners of your mouth were overlooked, not even the button of your nose. He peppered those kisses to erase the harshness of his selfishness, supporting your lifted chin with his long thumb beneath it, still sticky from the consistency of the lip oil, apologizing, smoothing down his sternness until you giggled.

Once he cleaned you, Namjoon returned the digit to your smudged mouth, delicious in his sight due to the essence of sloppiness that gets his length even harder in his pants. He presses the pad against it, already craving your tongue. You kissed it, a thank you for his softness, before you granted him the access. Tongue toying with the tip, you said hello in the mother language of the love stored in your bodies for each other. Wrapped both of your hands around his wrist. Didn’t break eye contact. Smiled, teeth showing happily, when he bit his lip, but soon got distracted by a small movement on his groin area out of your view.

You peeled your back off of the tub to curiously take a peek, but Namjoon pushed you back to your place. All while his thumb remained sucked by your mouth. You frowned at him, dismayed by his recurring roughness that you weren’t used to.

Namjoon tapped your cheek twice with his fingers to let you know it was enough and rose to his feet.

“Joon, what’s going on? Why are you so rough with me?” you asked, voice tender, the question shooting arrows into the wideness of his back.

Stopping in the doorway, he hung his head, fingers coming to intertwine with the short hair above his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me get the book.”

A moment later, he returned with the stellar possession in one hand and a wooden chair in the other. He slumped against it, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly.

You swam forward as if to the shore, propping your elbows on the rim to be closer to him.

“Is the water warm enough?”

You nod, your teeth picking at the excess skin on your lips. Namjoon notices and, as if registering the reason why you put on the lip oil in the first place, he leans towards you and rubs away the smudginess he caused. As if the walk into your dining room sobered him enough from the dark wine of his lust that he now regretted his actions.

“You really scared me when you were rough,” you said calmly, unafraid to uncover your feelings, knowing you’ll be caught now that you’ve jumped head-first into the hungry sea of honesty.

He apologizes again. Repeats it in the aphonic form of a deep chaste kiss.

“Won’t do it again,” he promises. “Unless you ask me to.”

Your lips form a smile, but it quivers into a straight line just as quickly as it appeared. The yet unknown cause behind his untypical behavior troubles you.

“Did something happen today at work?”

Namjoon sighs. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Just tired or tired of your job?” you try, tilting your head to the side, remembering this isn’t the first time quiet broodiness clutched his figure when the clock struck five.

“Both.” He kneads the heel of his palm against his eye. 

Not expecting his honesty, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It propels you to investigate further. Gives you the green light. Namjoon usually keeps to himself when it comes to work-related storms, holding respect that reaches the bottom of his heart for those above him and for his peers as well.

“Did someone make you upset?” you ask, paving your way in this inquiry to the realm of understanding so you can help him. At least in a small way.

He drops his hand, gazes up the ceiling to stare at a fixed point. Perhaps he’s looking for words, perhaps he’s avoiding the question altogether. The regret of your prying swallows you. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped a boundary. 

You reach out your arm, wrapping wet fingers around his wrist on his lap. The gesture says, ‘you don’t have to tell me but I’m here,’ and you squeeze the limb to emphasize that. As if he heard you, he looks down at you. His eyes that are usually narrowed into slits now round in tenderness. The swallowing lets go, the lump that threatened to obstruct your throat disappears.

“It’s Friday, Joonie, and you can forget about your job for a little while. It’ll get better,” you say, caressing his soft skin.

To your another surprise, Namjoon nods. Slips his fingers into the hollowness between yours, squeezing back, saying, ‘I hear you.’ Your heart jumps with gladness that you haven’t made a mistake, that instead your reassurement made a difference.

To lighten up the atmosphere, you begin to joke around.

“Should I beat them up?” You raise your brow in mischief, a goofy smile coating your face in lightheartedness.

A grin cracks on his face. “Don’t get your hands dirty for me, baby.”

You scoff, half-seriously and half-unseriously shaking your head at his eagerness to please but never letting himself be pleased. “But I want to. I’ll do it for you.”

Namjoon shakes his head as well. Leans over to you. Cradles your head in his hands and kisses you. Picks the hair plastered on your face and puts it away. You forget all of your jokes for a moment, breathless. Your neediness nudges you in your sensitive parts, reminding you of its lingering presence. 

“Come on, Joonie,” you coo, prolonging the vowels, the best you could come up with considering his allure, “I’ll fight them,” you start to construct your imaginary plan, the dimples adorning his face making it a bit harder for you to get the words out, “then, they’ll be scared of me and they won’t bother you again. Because if they do, I’ll smash their fucking teeth in. And then… then, you’ll get your peace for good. Easy.”

Namjoon listens with his features bathed in enamoredness, seemingly lost in a deep thought. A twinkle, a twin to yours, glistens in his eyes. Dimples out provoking you, he softly smiles at you. Coyly. He’s unaccustomed to being the one fought for. He’s always been the one who fights. The one who settles, resolves, makes things right. He’s never been the person these things are done for by another person. It makes his heart pulsate in a strange new rhythm. 

He stretches out his hands and runs his fingers through your hair. Begins to plait an intricate braid down your back, keeping you caged in the confines of his arms. Safe. Protected. His warrior princess.

“There’s something else you can do for me,” he mumbles, finished with your braid. Now your hair is away from your face, just like he needs it for what he’s about to do.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow in question, your smirk growing on the side of your face. “Like what?”

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispers into your ear, shoulders hunched, lips tracing the edge of your earlobe. A secret just between the two of you. “My body’s confused. I need a release.”

Even though you saw it coming, even though you saw it a hundred times before, you can’t help but gasp at his desperation, bare and open before you. It’s a new experience each time. Thrilling and titillating, the vividness and ferocity of his sexuality. It causes a flock of playful butterflies to buzz you with electricity in your tummy and a shiver to run down your spine. You feel your own neediness making itself known again and you squeeze your thighs together. 

This is the Namjoon you know. Strong in his softness. Mellow. Intense. The Namjoon who showed you plain roughness was a stranger to you, one you could take the time to get to know, because now you understand that the incentive to act like he did was his frustration from work. You can’t really blame the natural inclination of his body—his body that is yours to love in all shapes or forms.

You perceive he needs to let out some steam—he said so himself. Proud of him for voicing it out, a decision to be his helper already makes a way to your heart. You no longer feel slivers of consternation slithering in your veins. Knowing the cause, knowing it’s still your Namjoon helps you submit to the call of his needs. If a dab of roughness is what entails the sand-speckled footpath to the seaside of his well-being, you’ll take it. Welcome it, even. Within the realm of your established boundaries, that is. 

“Can I see?”

The book falls to the floor with a thud. Namjoon stands up. 

Ever so eager. Responding to his body language out of pure instinct, you hum and lift yourself to your knees. The outline of his engorged length, tight in his pants, greets you and you will your brain not to tell your fingers to rub your swollen clit. To busy your hands, you grip the rim until white brushes along your knuckles.

Emerging from the water, it left you smothered in a luster of wet silkiness. Namjoon’s eyes rake over your bare femininity. Heavenly, pure, seraphic. Groans a little loud. Doesn’t know whether to touch you first or his painfully hard and heavy member. You move your body to the side wall of the tub and he follows you, hand opting for his girth to relieve himself a little bit. 

You sit prettily on your folded legs and lean over, pulling his wrist away. You plant a dewy kiss to the middle of his clothed length and look up at him, just at the right time to catch him whimpering. Your clit pulses again and you feel like crying, needing release as much as he does. He doesn’t make it easy for you, making sounds like that.

“What does my baby girl need me to do?” you ask, stroking his member while stifling your giggles at the title that fits him so well. 

“Baby girl?” He frowns down at you. 

It’s usually what he calls you, hence why his confusion. And you call him by an entirely different title, too.

A giggle does escape your mouth after all. You squeeze at his tip, drawing those delicious whimpers out of him again.

“Only needy little baby girls make sounds like that. You are needy, aren’t you?” You lick that sensitive part, palming his balls. 

Namjoon whines. 

The shift of dynamics, the change of titles ever so dizzying to the mind. He doesn’t even have the strength to correct you. 

He grips the back of your head and moves you away from his cock. Then the realization he’s being rough again wafts over him and he softens his hold, fallen stray hairs coming to rest at your temples. Namjoon tucks them behind your ear. Taps you on the cheek once.

“Get to sucking off your baby girl,” he rasps. 

You smile. Find it immensely attractive that he’s embracing the pet name while still being dominant. A masculinity in its true form.

“You can be rough with me if you want to,” you say, wanting to make that clear. “I think I can handle it.”

Namjoon traces the shell of your ear with his thumb, pondering.

“Just don’t hit me, okay?” 

He says your name sternly, as if you offended him. “I would never deliberately hurt you. How can you think that?” 

“No, I meant—” You lick your lips. “Don’t slap my boobs or anything. You can spank me, I like that. But don’t be as rough with me as you were. Can we take it slow? Is that okay?”

He stares at you for a moment.  

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss into his palm. “Yes, I trust you.”

“I’ll teach you, then. We’ll take it slow,” he says, fingers stroking the side of your cheek, where a small amount of fluff creates a path for him to lay down his silent love on. “It was a mistake on my part for not preparing you for it, and for that I’m sorry. But I’ll teach you. Show you how good it is.” He pauses. “Until you beg me for it.”

Your throat dries up. The pulsing in your cunt unbearable. 

“Fuck, Namjoon. Save the talk or I’ll come on the spot.” 

“The talk is important,” he reprimands you. “Whether you come or not without my permission is your problem.” 

“Shit,” you whimper, gripping his hand on your cheek. You tighten your hold as if to brattily change his mind on having this kind of control over your orgasm because you need to come as soon as possible. And not just once. You’re sure your dewiness is leaking into the water. 

“No bad words or I’ll fuck your filthy mouth.” 

You gasp. So unused to this side of him. But it turns you on, now that you feel safe. Turns you unstable.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You’re tumbling out the words before he’s even finished with his sentence. “I’m so sorry.”

He beams at your immediate submission, purring at the quintessence of your compliance. Wants more. “Who are you apologizing to?” 

You pause. His usual title almost slips off of your tongue. But since this is new and you’re both experiencing a new dynamic that causes you to feel so playful, that guides you ever so gently and carefully into the kingdom of subspace, you opt for the pet name that suits him well. “To my baby girl,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” 

He laughs as well, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. You’re giddy that you’re allowed to be wild, your inner child healing and quivering within you. You overflow with the desire to kiss him.

“What for?”

He wants you to say the full sentence. You take a deep breath. 

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry for having a filthy mouth and saying bad words.”

“Hm, do you regret it?” 

You almost curse again. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being bad.”

“Good. Get to work, then,” he says. “Make that mouth useful.”

Fuck.

“Kiss me first, please. Make it better,” you beg, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

Namjoon moans and you bite your lip. Bends and sucks it between his, deepening the kiss as he opens your jaw and slips his tongue inside. Massages the muscle against yours. Makes those sounds again. Palms his cock. Withdraws with a pop. 

You mewl in satisfaction. That kiss alone ruined you. 

“Good girls get kisses.” Hand under your chin, he squishes your cheeks. “You’ve been exceptionally good. I’m gonna destroy you.” 

He kisses you again with the same intensity but briefly, inhaling your skin. No tongue this time. 

Cheeks awash with rosiness, you hastily unbuckle his belt. Not to cut time and get to his promise faster—on the contrary, you’re dying to pleasure him. He doesn’t help you like he normally does; he merely watches you as you pull down the cotton material of his slacks along with his boxers down his muscular thighs. Only when you wrap your lips around his cock from the side does he throw his head back. Thrusts his hips. 

He’s rock hard. The weight of him makes you absolutely fucked out.

Namjoon likes you there so he keeps you still—there in the middle of his girth. You moan, producing as much saliva as you can to gratify him while he uses your mouth, alternating between keeping those pillows firm and soft. When he gets you to his tip, he expects you to swallow him, but you merely move your head from side to side rapidly, flicking your tongue. Namjoon groans lowly, a string of curse words spilling from his throat. His precum drops onto your chin and you suck in a breath, horny beyond your mind.

You swipe your index finger to collect it. Check if he’s watching before you plunge the digit into your mouth. Roll your eyes back as the tanginess overwhelms your senses. Namjoon hisses. Grabs your braid as if it were a ponytail. Kisses you, aching to be one with you. You feel the vibrations of his fervid mania in unity with him like this and it echoes down your body once he pulls away. 

“Take it in your mouth.” 

Namjoon holds it at the base for you and you find the long vein that you favor so much. Pepper kisses along the length of it, feeling it throb in tandem with your clit. Straightening your spine, you bite your lip. Give him an utter look of adoration before you swipe your tongue along the slit. Humming in delight, you slip him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and you begin to bob your head, fingers following your movement, bumping into his fist. Tears pool in your eyes when you dare to inch closer to his hand and even though you gag, you try your hardest to keep him nice and tucked in your warm throat. You sputter and cough, swallowing around him, because you deem he deserves it, knowing how much he loves it when your flesh contracts around him like that, and Namjoon groans deeply. It fills you with a dose of satisfaction almost akin to an orgasm, the lack of oxygen in your brain heightening the experience so much that your head spins. 

“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”

He slips out of your mouth. Pats you on your head before he sinks his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots. Ascertains you pay attention to him. 

“Don’t do that again,” he says, softly. “You need to breathe. Take a deep breath with me.”

You’re still on your knees and he’s merely looking down at you. You fold your hands on your lap. Your mind is so empty that you’re not sure how you feel right now, having been entirely focused on his pleasure. 

Namjoon inhales deeply with his nose and you do the same.

Inhale, exhale. 

Fondly, he caresses you on your cheek.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you explain yourself, thinking that you should.

“I know, baby, and you did. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.” He smiles at you. “You hear me? I’m not mad at you.”

You nod your head yes. Pout. 

“You feeling okay? Take a deep breath for me again.” 

You do as he says, your senses returning to you like a warm spring wind. 

“Better now?”

You nod again.

“Words.”

You wet your lips with your tongue. “Yes, I feel better now.”

“Good. Do you still wanna continue?”

“Yes, Namjoon. I wanna make you come.” 

Almost like you flipped a switch, his eyes darken. 

“Hands behind your back,” he rasps. 

You oblige, crisscrossing your wrists below the dimples on your lower back.

“‘Atta girl. Back to work, come on.” 

It’s much harder to do so without your hands, especially in the position you’re in. You hesitate.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit. 

He tuts in pity. “Should I use you then?”

You roll your eyes back, the idea intoxicating your body. You feel woozy. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Focus on your breathing, okay?” 

“Yes, Namjoon.”

Humming, Namjoon grabs your hair gently and sinks your mouth down on his cock, moves you up and down slowly. You focus on not just sucking in your cheeks but also on breathing through your nose like he told you, although you can’t help but moan around him. It turns you on how he manhandles you to his liking so delicately. You swirl your tongue around his tip once he wants you there and you let out a series of whines and whimpers. He keeps you there for a little longer, moaning after you, the sounds creating a paradisiacal symphony. You twist your head in half circles as you continue sucking him, slobbering all over him, using your tongue to flick beneath the mushroom. 

“So good, baby. Yes, fuck.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me come.” 

You pull away, but a string of saliva still connects you to him. 

He blinks at you. “You want a spanking?” 

You run the tip of your tongue along the top of your lip, giving him the eyes. Cock your eyebrow at him. Namjoon draws a sharp breath in. 

He leans over. One hand tugs at your braid firmly to arch your back over the edge of the tub. The other smacks you sharply on your ass cheek, smoothing over the sting. You moan, nipples rubbing over the cold surface, curse words dying on your tongue. Namjoon grips the flesh, spanks you again. Skims his fingers over your exposed heat. Repeats it on the other cheek, twice in a row. You wiggle your hips, needing to feel more, needing him to touch you right there between your legs. You cry out into his ear.

Letting go of your braid, Namjoon kisses you beneath your jaw. Slides his tongue along the sensitive spot, sucking it between his lips. A secret message that he hears you, that he’ll fuck your needy cunt soon.

“Think you’ll be a good girl for now?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod a few times. Not a single rational thought passes through your brain. 

Namjoon straightens. Pulls down his foreskin for you. “Spit on it.” 

You watch as your liquid love trickles down and lands on his tip. He hums and surprises you by wrapping your hands around his girth, spreading down the lubrication with you. You feel the ridges and the thick vein in a new, vehement way and even though you’re not the one pleasured, you moan. The simple up and down movement grows in rapidness that your body follows, emulating the effort, making it seem like you’re bouncing on a dick. Your ass splashes the water around, creating tender waves full of love, inherited from your still leaking dewiness. 

His hands are so warm enclasped around yours, pressed tight. Not once unclenching.

You start blabbering. 

“You’re so big. I can’t even wrap my hand around you.” You make sure to look him in the eyes as you say it. “So big in my mouth, too. Could barely fit you.” 

Your words set those twilit embers in his eyes on fire. His breathing quickens. He’s close again and you’re stunned, once more, by the vividness of his sexuality. Your hands go limp in his grasp.

“Nuh-uh, keep up the pace,” he husks. “Thought I was your little baby girl?” 

You shake your head, willing your hands to gain strength again, but it has no source to draw from. “Not anymore.”

Namjoon chuckles, darkly. Notices your movements fluctuating, arms shaking. “Tired?”

You nod and he unclasps his hands. You twist your wrists in circles to alleviate them from a cramp. 

Then, you get an idea.

Sitting back on your heels, you arch your back. Tip your chin down and spit on your chest, the essence flowing down the pathway between your breasts. You do it again, though this time you spread it on your skin. 

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon mumbles. Unbuttons his shirt. You squeeze your nipples with both hands as your eyes flick to his, then down to his exposed chest. “How are you gonna address me, huh? What’s my name?”

He forcefully tugs the fabric off of his arms, tossing it on the floor. His body—with its vulgar beauty, broadness and definition—takes your breath away. You don’t let it show, or perhaps you pretend that you don’t because you allow your hand to travel down your stomach. Namjoon imitates you, running his fingers down the chiseled muscles that make you drool. He stops at the hair adorning his pelvis. You don’t.

You rub circles on your clit instead.

“Daddy,” you cry out in pleasure, announcing his title—his rightful, most fitting title. Face contorting at the brisk, blooming flashes of sensuality rising up your form.

His body tenses. It’s like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you, pulling you out of the bathtub and spanking you until your bottom resembles the water. Or tugging at his length until he paints you white with his cum. 

You make it easy for him. 

Lifting your body, you step over the edge of the bathtub. Kneel at his feet on the fluffy black mat. Far enough for him to see purple liquid pearls make their way down to your cunt. Far enough for him to see how you resume those circles on your bundle of nerves, fingers reaching to your hole for lubrication. You roll your hips into your hand, arm propped behind you.

“What’s this show?” Namjoon rasps, his cock twitching. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself. You wanna end up with zero orgasms?”

You pause. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I believe you have unfinished work to do.” 

You smile mischievously. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 

Namjoon nods. Holds out his hand. “Come to Daddy.”

Exuberantly, you leap into his arms. Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and walks into your shared bedroom. Sets you down on your bed, spreading your legs, and he crouches between them, reaching into his bedside table for the tool that he wants. 

The aroma of strawberries lovingly boops you on the nose. Namjoon squirts a good amount of lubrication on your chest, paying special attention to the pathway in the middle of your breasts. He massages it in, incorporates your sensitive nipples in the preparation, coaxing whimper after whimper out of you by squeezing them and rolling them between his long fingers.

“I’m gonna make a mess,” you say, grinding your hips against nothing.

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Already?” 

Your dewiness oozes out of you onto the bedding. To prove your point, you lean back on your elbows and lift your knees, revealing your dripping hole and the shine of your soaked folds. Namjoon stares at your cunt but doesn’t touch, doesn’t blink. He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes to yours. 

He kisses the middle of your tummy. Moves over to your heat. Licks a tiny stripe on your clit.

You cry out.

“Namjoon!”

Hands on either side of your waist, crawling up to you, he growls. “Good girls are patient, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t wait for your response. 

“They take what is given to them and they finish what they started,” he continues. “Don’t they?”

You nod.

“And you are a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” 

“Then thank your Daddy for what he gave you.” 

Your walls squeeze around nothing when you hear him utter his title. It refreshes your body with energy. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You smile. 

Namjoon kisses you, rewarding you.

“Sit up.”

Changing the layout, it’s Namjoon who reclines halfway on the bed while you sit perched on your knees between his legs, cock in your face. He spurts the lube on his length and jerks himself off, his skin shining in the abrupt spillage of burnt-orange sunlight from the window. Watches your eyes round in astonishment similarly to the way they did earlier when you had gazed upon the glitter swarming around you. 

He nods at you, giving you the green light, and you sheathe his girth into the tightness of your squished tits. You may start a face pace from the get go, fucking him into oblivion, but all Namjoon sees is the whites of your eyes, the glimmer, the pure enjoyment of what you’re doing while the rest of you is immersed in subdued late afternoon shadows. Sweat glistens on the planes of his face, dribbling down to the strained column of his neck.

It’s intense. So intense that he can’t vocally react. 

Precum appears once more on his mushroom, displaying his arousal, and you slurp it up, the braid coming undone—your hair falling around you like a curtain. 

It’s brutal. It’s wet. 

Namjoon gathers your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail and leans over to be closer to you. Needs you like this. Feels his relief catching up to him the more effort you put in, the more you stick out your tongue to flick at that sensitive part of him whenever you can. 

“Want your come. So bad. Want it all over me,” you whisper, and that’s it for him. 

“Say please,” he murmurs, and it’s barely a sound, but you hear him. 

“Please, Daddy, come for me.” 

Pulling your hands away, Namjoon takes charge. Fucks your tits in frenzy, your hair, now half dry, tickling your skin. With his thumbs, he stimulates your nipples to coax those little sounds of yours and—

“Play with your pussy,” he commands. “But don’t come. Tease yourself like you teased Daddy.”

The relief on your face inches him closer to his. He hears the wetness as you dip a finger in, your walls sucking it in. He hears your breath get stuck in your throat. The slow crescendo of your moans. Suddenly, he hears himself too. 

Whiny, desperate, so unlike himself.

It’s a fortress of safety, his forehead on top of yours. His nose bumping against yours. Open mouth ghosting over the sounds of your well-deserved pleasure. It’s a safe place for him to come in.  

And he does. 

Ropes upon ropes of come color you ivory white, color you clean. The reversal of a coloring book—changing the lines, changing the scheme, changing your life. 

You milk him dry, your pussy long forgotten. Milk him until he pushes you away, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath. You just watch him, his seed hot on your chest. Glittery. And not just there. On your neck, on your chin, in the wavy strands of your hair. 

You’re in awe of him. You can see the pressure leaving him like a ghost slinking out of the window. 

Namjoon takes off his glasses. With two fingers, he collects as much of his essence as he can and plunges them into your mouth. The other hand rests on the crook of your neck, thumb protectively over your throat. “Swallow.”

Not for long. Namjoon throws you on the bed. Doesn’t waste time.

He laps up your pussy, clit to hole, sucking your labia into his mouth. He does it again, but this time he travels a bit further. Clit, hole, ass. Tongue flat. Your screams are muffled by the rumpled bedsheet you grip.

Going back to your leaking hole, he circles the flesh before he dips the tongue in. Wraps his arms around your ass to control your squirming, feeling the dip of your spine as the sunlight kisses it. Dust particles spiral in the air—Namjoon sees it. The dark grey curtain keeping half of the world shrouded in dimness while the other illuminated, a picture cut in a heart shape due to the deliciousness of your ass. 

Fuck, Namjoon longs to play with it again. 

He spits on it, rubbing the saliva around it before he slides his tongue back into your wet hole. Says hello to it—long time no see—teases it, before he dips his thumb in. You arch your back even more, welcoming the intrusion, and Namjoon kisses your pussy lips as a thank you. He quivers with the craving to fuck you right there in your ass, but knows better than to do it. You’re not ready for it. 

Spreading you more open, while keeping his thumb there in that sweet place, he begins to focus on your poor little clit. Swirls his tongue around it firmly, sucking it until your back trembles—goes up and down like a seesaw. The kisses he leaves there are obscene, loud, full of thankfulness that he gets to play with you. Full of love for you that he burns bright with—that propels him to flick his tongue harder. And full of joy that his stress is gone. Joy that you’ve been the helper unscrewing the steel body of heaviness off of his because, as of now, his bones feel lighter.

“You’re so good for me.” He smacks his lips against your cunt. “Fucking Daddy like that when he needed you.” 

Vigorously, he rubs his face against you, shaking his head from side to side. You stretch your fingers behind you and helplessly grip the back of your thighs. Namjoon catches one of your hands, holds it with his free four fingers, sucking your clit. 

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, withdrawing to pay attention to your other hole, missing it. Abuses it once he spits on it, eating it, dipping his tongue in with ease since he stretched you. Fucks you there in the only way he can. 

“Wanna come?” he asks and as he waits for your answer, he goes lower to drink your freshness, not letting a drop go to waste. 

You’ve lost your voice screaming. “Yes, Daddy, please. I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, let me come,” you croak. 

Namjoon makes a sound of appreciation, proud of you for holding out for so long without saying anything.

“I think you can,” he says. Stuffs a finger into your dripping hole and lets you adjust for a moment. Adds another. “I think you can hold it while I count to ten.” 

His digits pump into you slowly. Kneeling by your side, he turns your head so you can see him, twisting your body into the position he wants. The curve of your back is so beautiful in his sight that he can’t help but run his free hand over the route that your spine has become. The route he wants to plant kisses on like flowers of various colors, adding to the coloring book, erasing the old. 

And he does. Begins at the nape of your neck. Picks up the speed.

“One.” 

You cry out. First before your tears rush out, pooling in your waterline. You clench your whole body in naive hope it would stall the orgasm, but it quickens it, squeezing his fingers in, so you relax your muscles. 

“Two.” 

A kiss to the first round protrusion of your spine. Shifting your weight to your shoulder, you take his cock into your hand. 

“Three.”

The middle of your shoulder blades. You hear your wetness oozing out of you, the relief prowling closer. You whine and Namjoon understands.

“Hold it or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers. Relax.” 

You match your pace with his. Namjoon begins to pant. You feel his hot, heavy breath beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Six.” 

Ass shaking from the force, he jackhammers into you. Pulls out for a moment to spank you, a merciful gesture, before he’s back in. Leaves a wet fingerprint on your skin.

“Eight.”

The last protrusion of your spine. You silence your moans by pressing your hand against your mouth because they bring you closer to your orgasm, however Namjoon yanks your arm away. 

“Make those pretty sounds for me, come on,” he huffs, kissing both of those dimples on your back. “Ten. Come. Come for Daddy. Come all over his hand.”

And you do.

It’s a paradise, the heat closing in on you. The loss of hearing, the muted ringing, resembling the flap of a bird’s wing. The loss of surroundings as you’re momentarily transported somewhere entirely else. A gilded illustration, perhaps a lively projection. Something, somewhere, where all is good. The orgasm rips through you and the repetitive echo of his name leaving your mouth is what brings you back. Away from the storybook into a brand new coloring book.

Namjoon strokes your hair. 

He holds you in his arms, but something sticks you uncomfortably together. You peel yourself off of him and cringe. Strings upon strings of his come, gleaming with speckles of glitter, do not want you to leave. You sit on his thighs, resting your palms on his chest. 

He kisses you. “Are you okay?”

You nod with droopy eyelids. 

He carries you into the shower and makes a way for all colors of the rainbow to perfuse your body. To create a new storyline for the day, for the week, for the month. Reds and pinks show their faces first in the steam, and even though Namjoon is glad to see them, he looks forward to meeting the rest. To learning their objectives so he can fulfill them. 

Grabbing the yellow book on the way back to the bedroom, Namjoon makes himself comfortable beside you. Is careful not to touch your face out of habit because you have a face mask on; careful not to bump into you either because you have a plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes on your lap. He kisses your hair, though. Doesn’t have the strength to fight internally—grabs your jawline and ever so slowly and heedfully, he kisses you, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly. 

“When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

light 𓂃 ౨ৎ masterlist 

all of these works do not contain adult content; sfw

MIN YOONGI — YOU'RE NOT DIRTY he, who has always been able to untangle the ropes of chaos that is your mental health, helps you when you need to not be alone for once.

JUNG HOSEOK — tba

JEON JUNGKOOK — ICHOR after a bad day at work, you lose a sense of yourself and jungkook leads you right back to her.

KIM NAMJOON — HEAVEN-SENT when a certain bad experience with a guy makes you run to namjoon, he heals you and changes you once and for all.

KIM TAEHYUNG — tba

KIM SEOKJIN — tba

PARK JIMIN — tba

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

What is about chance encounters, second chances, and fate that is so enticing?

I really liked that their chance encounter was in a place she always wanted to go with him but never did. The moment he decided his life was empty and to search for what he was missing, he instantly found it 🤧

“Please what? You’ve canceled on me twice this week alone. It’s like we’re falling into the same pattern as last time. I can’t do that again. I can’t give you all of me and only get pieces of you.” 

This hit so hard!! I was shaking my head thinking she's right and he's going to lose her again...

But surprise! 🤧🤧 They're so cute together 🥺😭💜 Thank you for feeding us, hopeless romantics 🤧🥺💜

Amber Confetti

Written for @bangtanwritershq Falling Together event

⟢ Rating: MA

⟢ Jungkook x female reader ⟢ Word Count: 3.5k ⟢ Genres: Second chance ⟢ Warnings: cursing, dirty talk, nipple play, unprotected penetration, smut, misunderstanding, sickly sweet!

Thank you Jasz and @queentiti72 for beta reading!

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The summer heat was finally coming to an end; the days are still warm and balmy and the nights are just brisk enough for a light sweater. You love the cooler weather but autumn always reminds you of him. You haven’t seen him for almost two years, yet somehow you can still smell him when the weather shifts. He habitually changed scents during seasons, going from a woody, summer coconut to a fresh, citrusy spice. Just like the cozy, autumn air that clings to your skin, you can still feel his embrace during those lazy days when the cool air would blow through the apartment windows. 

Your relationship just wasn’t at the right time; he was always tired, never wanting to leave the apartment, and always busy with work. The few days he had off would be spent aimlessly scrolling social media, or catching up with friends. It slowly caused a rift that eventually pushed you away. You never stopped loving him though. He was a sweet person and very affectionate when he took the time to shower you with attention. He just couldn’t balance it all. You never faulted him, instead you blamed the universe, and maybe in another time it could've worked. The relationship ended and you both parted ways on bittersweet terms.

September is the month of cosmos flowers and today you were treating yourself to a stroll through Olympic Park. You slip into a denim blue, button-up blouse half tucked into a long flowy white skirt with blue dalmation print. Finishing the look with white low top sneakers and a cross-body clutch, you head to the train station.

The orange cosmos and pink muhly grass were in bloom and you need to give your eyes a break from all the computer work you’ve been doing. The trails twist and turn along streams and ponds then through fields of colorful flowers and tall grass. You take in all the beauty, snapping pictures here and there, then walk through the center of the pink grass to get the perfect selfie. Finally away from all the tourists, you reach a spot with no one around, you take a deep breath in through your nose and catch the light scent of freshly mowed hay. With your nose in the air you take a few steps forward then you stumble into something and fall to the ground on your hands and knees. Suddenly the aroma strongly changes to something familiar—fresh citrusy spice. You look back to see what you tripped over and there he is staring right back at you, mirroring your wide eyes and frozen in place.

“Jungkook?!” 

“YN?!” 

He quickly stands and grabs your wrist pulling you up onto your feet. You both wipe at your clothes, dusting any dirt off. 

“I’m so sorry, I knelt down to tie my shoe.” He reaches toward you and brushes your hair behind your ear.

You nod your head and ask, “How have you been?”

“Okay, I guess. You?”

“Same.” You’re momentarily hypnotized. He’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His dark eyes shine under the bucket hat he has on. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”

“You remembered my birthday?”

“How could I forget?” Your stomach flips at his smile.

“Thank you. You look as gorgeous as I remember.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “You’re not too bad yourself, Jeon.”

“So, what brings you here?” He asks while blushing, never taking his eyes away from yours.

“I needed a break from work. I wanted to get here before the festival starts and brings in more crowds. What about you? It was never really your thing to come to these places.”

“I wanted to try something new.”

“That’s really good you’re doing new things for yourself– or someone?” Suddenly you feel uneasy at the possibility that he may be in a new relationship, doing the things you always begged him to do with you. 

“Myself. There is no one else. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, I’m not.” You both fidget in place, your hands roaming to find something to hold, so you grab the strap of your purse and he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Do you think we could catch up? Get a coffee or something? I–I’ve changed, and I’d really like to talk with you.”

“My number hasn’t changed,” you say as you look down at your feet, hoping to hide your rosy cheeks. He pulls out his phone and sends you a text. 

“Now you have mine.” He smiles and gestures around to the field of muhly grass. “I came this far off the path to take a selfie.” He laughs.

“Yeah, me too. I guess no one else wants to walk this far.”

“Maybe we can take each other’s pictures?”

“Sure, why not.” You both pose and take photos for each other, surrounded by the beautiful pinkish-red tinted grass. 

“Do you maybe want to keep walking around, together?” he suggests after putting his phone away.

“I’d like that. What do you have left to see?” 

“I just got here, so everything.”

“Me too.” You look into his eyes and feel like you’re being pulled in by some type of force. Realizing you’re staring, you smile and look away while he chuckles. The attraction between you two is still very much there and you can’t help but wonder if the universe is helping you two find your way again, at the right time.

Continuing along the trails, you both take more photos with orange cosmos that look like pinwheels atop slender stems and silver grass of white and bronze ends weeping toward the ground. You take more pictures on a rainbow bridge, visit the museums, and a musical fountain before realizing you've been walking and talking for hours. 

“Are you hungry? I’d love to finish chatting and catching up with you over lunch,” he grabs your hands, “maybe even ice cream too?” Ice cream is your weakness. No matter how full, how sad, or how grumpy you are, ice cream is the answer.

“Lead the way, Jungkookie.” You both smile not only with your lips but your hearts and he holds his arm at an angle for you to snake your hand through the triangular hole, holding onto his bicep while you walk.

You’re sitting in a yakiniku cafe grilling meats and vegetables, catching up on the years and sometimes reminiscing on your past memories. He had some time off and he became aware of his loneliness. He worked hard as a journalist never having time for himself to enjoy life. He’s a little older now, and wiser, which made him reflect on the past and decide to make some changes. 

“So I told myself, I needed to go out and have fun and see things. The first thing that came to mind was the place you asked me for months to take you to,” he hangs his head in shame.

“Hey,” you reach out and grab his hand, “it’s okay. The past is the past. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.” He grasps your hand.

“You have no idea how happy I am that I went today. I didn’t think I’d ever run into you again. It’s like–”

“The universe is giving us a second chance?” you chime in, hoping you’re on the same page.

“Exactly.” You both shyly smile and look at your hands, interlaced together as one.

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Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and soon it’s two months into being together again. Everything started out perfect, like a dream, it was as if Jungkook really did learn from the past and is making sure not to repeat his mistakes. He spends time with you, makes you a priority, and even enjoys fun, new experiences with you. 

Laying in his bed with sheets half covering your naked bodies, Jungkook says, “Stay the night. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but you can lock up when you leave. Or we can leave together, I’ll go in later.”

“But if you go in late, you’ll get home late,” you roll onto your side to face him.

“You tell me what you want and I’ll do it, YN,” he smiles and runs his hand softly over your arm.

“What if I said,” you lower your voice and prop yourself on your elbow to whisper in his ear, “I want to make you feel good all night.”

“I would say let’s get it!” he scrunches his nose and smiles, turning his body toward you but you place a hand on his shoulder and gently push him back to laying on his back.

He gasps softly when you graze over his thickening cock. Then whimpers when you wrap your fingers around, squeezing just a little, stroking just a bit. His hips rock as he lets out another mewl. You press your lips against his neck, “I love the pretty sounds you make as I build you up.”  His hands snake in your hair and he pulls you in for a kiss. He moans against your lips and you feel his body tremble against yours. You slide a leg across his thighs, taking your place in his lap. You squeeze his shaft and slide him into your wet core perfectly, sinking down until he’s deep inside you. 

“Fuuuuck, YN.”

“Mmm you fill me so good, Jungkookie.” 

You roll your hips, savoring his soft groans. You lean onto his chest to meet his lips again, sliding to the tip and then back down in long smooth motions. Jungkook whines then cups your breasts as you sway above him, sucking your nipples hungrily. He runs his tongue over your swollen nubs then teases them between his teeth eliciting a sharp hiss from you.

“Am I making you feel good Kookie?”

“You have no idea. I’m about to fucking bust,” he pants into your breasts.

“Cum inside me, fill me with your love.” Jungkook holds your hips down as he thrusts up into you, the squelching sound bringing him to an end. You lick and bite his earlobe while moaning into his ear as he empties inside you.

“That. Was. Fucking. Amazing.” He holds onto you while guiding you over onto your back with his dick still inside you, “I’m going to kiss you until I’m hard again, and then fuck you like a good girl deserves. You we’re so fucking hot for that. Now it’s your turn to feel good.”

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Something changed and this week your emotions are all over the place. Jungkook canceled plans and didn’t have as much time for you, again. You didn’t want to address the elephant in the room but not doing so was slowly and silently eating away at your soul.

You were working from home today and decided to rest your eyes for just one minute but that minute lasted hours as you slept peacefully with the cool air drifting around the apartment. You wake up to gentle kisses along your bare thighs and his hand rubbing your legs.

“You’re here already? What time is it?” you ask while giving a small stretch and reaching for him. 

“It’s only 3 p.m. You weren’t answering your phone so I just let myself in.” He leans into your arms and rests his head on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair.

“Oh sorry. I ended up taking such a long nap. Did you get off work early?”

“No, I came over because you weren’t answering and– I have to tell you something.” 

“We’re not going to the lantern festival, are we?”

“I have a deadline that I really need to finish tonight.” Your hand stops at his words as he embraces you tighter.

“Jungkook.”

“I know. I’m so so sorry, I just–it’s a bad time right now with all the holidays and festivals coming up.”

Clearing your throat you repeat, “Bad time?” You move yourself enough to where he gets the hint and frees you from his hold. Now sitting up and facing each other you can talk. 

“You know what the holidays are like for me–for journalists.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to write about something after actually going and experiencing it?”

“Please, YN.” 

“Please what? You’ve canceled on me twice this week alone. It’s like we’re falling into the same pattern as last time. I can’t do that again. I can’t give you all of me and only get pieces of you.” 

“You know how important this season is, please, last chance. After tonight, it won’t happen again. I know it won’t.” He pleads while gripping your hands firm with his. 

“You can’t know that.” Your eyes fill with tears and you don’t even try to stop them. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

“YN, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. The lantern festival has another week left and–and there’s another place you wanted to go, what was it called?” He’s frantically trying to console you, his hands rubbing your arms then pulling you into a hug, trying to make right of the situation.

“Nami Island,” you respond flatly against his shoulder.

“Yeah, there. We’re going! I promise!” His voice is too cheery for the setting and mood he just evoked. Irritating your core, but you were tired of talking already.

“‘Kay. Sure.” 

“We’ll even get ice cream,” he tries to joke and lighten the mood.

You scoff and roll your eyes but can’t help but give a soft smile, “Whatever.”

“You’ll see, YN. You’ll see.” He continues patting your back with one hand and wiping away your tears with the other. Silently promising himself that this would be the last time he made you cry sad tears. 

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What you didn’t know was he was making plans. Being with you was everything he wanted after he did some self reflecting. He wasn’t going to mess it up again but the days he had to cancel on you, there was no way around it. The first day he canceled because the jeweler customizing something very special for you took way longer than expected and the rush order needed to be perfect. The second time was a rescheduled meeting with your brother and parents, getting approval for something very special. He took off work and had it set for the morning but your brother had to push it back, causing Jungkook to miss your planned adventure. The last time was because he got the call to pick up your rushed jewelry and the shop would be closing for two weeks. He had to pick it up and cancel on you so as to not ruin his grand plan. He’s disappointed in himself for all the misfortunes that happened but it wasn’t under his control and he can’t tell you, not yet. The universe brought you to him again and he surely wouldn’t mess it up ever again. He knew in his bones that you two were destined by fate.

Jungkook kept his promise and made sure you both made it to the lantern festival, together. He will never forget the way your eyes lit up during the parade at the hundreds of ornate paper lanterns, your favorite lantern being the big, colorful dragon with all its intricate details. The way your body swayed to the music and how you clapped for the folk dance performers that gave their heart and soul to the tradition.

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Nami Island; a place you haven’t visited since you were an adolescent with your family. You have beautiful memories here of various paths lined with sky-high trees, and a wooden riverside walking path with stunning views of the lake and surrounding mountains. 

“Jungkook! Let’s ride the couples bike!”

“Anything you want, YN.”

You both set off along the paths, feet perfectly in sync. As you pass pastures of sheep and alpaca you tell Jungkook the memories you have of them when you were younger. You stop at a faded red and teal temple perfectly nestled between tri-color leaves and take pictures. 

Jungkook pulls you into him, kissing your forehead, “I hope you’re happy, YN.”

You hum into his chest before saying, “I am, Jungkookie. I am.”

“Do you smell that?” he asks while sniffing the air like a curious puppy. 

You can’t help but giggle, “You’re going to love this, let’s go.”

You both hop back on the bike and head in the direction where the smell is coming from.  As it gets stronger, Jungkook’s mouth begins to water. 

“I smell gochujang! Please tell me we are going to eat whatever smells this good!”

You stop in front of a restaurant that mimics the temple you just saw. 

“Welcome to the infamous Nami Island Dakgalbi!” You stand in front of the sign like Vanna White. 

“You’re seriously the cutest woman I have ever met,” he wraps his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Jeon.” You poke him in the ribs and grab his hand, leading him into the restaurant. 

The perfect crisp weather dish, spicy chicken stir-fried with rice cake and vegetables, is delivered soon after being ordered. The gochujang hits your tongue and the spice stimulates your taste buds causing your mouth to tingle while the sweet flavor cools and soothes soon afterward. Jungkook talks about how the gummy rice cake and crunchy vegetables go together nicely with the sauce and you notice his eyebrows are furrowed, a sure sign he loves it. You want more of these moments with him, forever.

After lunch, Jungkook finds an ice cream shop and you split a flavor since it’s a little chilly and you’re both stuffed from the delicious dakgalbi. You sit on a bench around some cute animal statues to eat the ice cream. After a few bites, you shiver a little and he pulls off the flannel tied around his waist, placing it around your shoulders. 

“Thanks. I guess I should’ve brought a heavier outer layer,” you admit.

“Once we get moving, you’ll warm up again. Besides, I don’t need it. It was just to look cute for you.”

“You’re always cute, Jungkookie.” You take the cone and boop his nose with the ice cream. His jaw drops dramatically and eyes widen until his lips and cheeks rise into a deep smile. 

“You’ll pay for that!” he jokes playfully, lightly tickling your sides, causing the cone to go crashing to the ground. You both stare at it, then at each other and giggle. 

“Whoopsies! That was all your fault though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says playfully, “What’s next on our agenda?”

“My favorite tree path! To the Ginkgo Tree Lane!”

With each pedal of the bike, Jungkook’s heart beats faster. He couldn’t wait to get to your favorite place but more so he couldn’t wait to surprise you. He could slowly see the gold and brown colors ahead. 

“Let’s leave the bike here and stroll through the path on foot,” he suggested. You had no hesitation, already in awe of the beauty before you. Jungkook reaches for you and you walk hand in hand through nature. The prehistoric trees lined perfectly on either side of the walkway. Their bushy branches and fan-like leaves meet together above the path creating a tunnel over anything below. The optimal mixture of yellow and orange leaves above your heads and below your feet, crunching under each step.

“Can you believe these trees live for thousands of years?” 

“They symbolize longevity or something right?” 

“Are you trying to impress me, Jeon Jungkook?” You look at him and place your free hand over your heart.

“I may have read a s—sign or s—something,” his nerves take ahold of his vocal chords. 

“Are you cold? Take your flannel,” you suggest, moving to take the shirt off of you.

“No, no! I’m fine now.” 

“This place really is beautiful,” you say with your eyes attentively studying the textures and colors of the trees. Jungkook’s eyes are fixated on you though.

“Yes, you really are beautiful,” he replies.

You stop and look at him, “Not me silly, the view! Look at this place. It’s absolutely magical.” You spin around and pull Jungkook’s arms around your waist with your back toward him, “Breathtaking.” 

Jungkook takes his hands from around your waist and you shiver at the loss of connection. You turn to face him and he presses his lips to yours, placing both hands on either side of your jaw. Pulling away he says,  “YN, I love you more than I can put into words. I want to forever be on this ride of life with you and whatever our destination is,” he doesn’t break eye contact while simultaneously lowering to one knee, pulling out a small box, “I’m ready to start our new chapter.” 

“Jungkook!” you shriek and fall into his arms.

“Is that a yes?”

“I love you! Yes, yes! A hundred times, yes!” You sprinkle him with kisses all over his face. He giggles and grabs your hand to place the ring on your finger. He stands both of you up and places his forehead on yours. Your eyes on your newly adorned finger as he admires you.

As if the universe wanted to assure its presence, a soft breeze sweeps through the chestnut tree trunks, sending the vivid amber leaves swirling around you, giving off the appearance of celebration confetti.

Lights Out, Words Gone | Lights Out, Words Spill - [yoongi x reader][2.4k+ friends to lovers, nonidol!au; light angst, smut, fluff] Exploration No. 5 - [namjoon x reader] [1k+ strangers to lovers, nonidol!au; fluff] Now That We Don't Talk | Not In The Same Way | Not Warriors | High - [seokjin x reader ft. hoseok] [3.5k+ lovers to strangers, breakup!au; angst, smut] Be My Mistake - [jhope x reader] [1.4k+ friends with benefits, celeb!au; smut, angst] Orbiting - 1° | 2° - 2,5° | 3° - 3,5° | 4° | 5° - [jungkook x reader ft. jimin] [5k+ friends with benefits, childhood friends to lovers, nonidol!au; smut—literally porn with a little bit of plot, light angst, fluff] Come As You Are, Doused In Mud - One | Two - [jimin x reader ft. taehyung] [5k+ circus!au, dead dove; smut ‼️ strong language and dark themes] Play It As It Lays - [taehyung x reader] [1.5k+ smut] Bad Omens | Ghost of You | Take My Hand - [jungkook x reader] [5k+ married!au; smut, angst] Untitled | Still Untitled - [jungkook x reader] [6k+ college!au; fluff] A Daydream Away - [idol!yoongi x music producer!reader] About You - [jungkook x reader] [3.9k+ mild angst] Bleach - [yoongi x reader] [1.3k+ angst, fluff]

Orbiting: pt.4°

: pt.1° | pt.2° - pt.2,5° | pt.3°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [3.9k smut, angst. There's swearing; bitch-calling (non-sexual); this is purely fiction, please practice safe sex!; tons of dialogues. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, but tbh, I kinda struggled to steer the plot.

Also! Happy Hobi Day! Please give Be My Mistake some love, too! (if u want)

-

"Isn't that your girl, cozying up to Park?"

The first thing Jungkook sees is you—back on the rink, just where you belong. He's never seen someone as graceful as you glide. You always look beautiful like this, he thinks. The apples of your cheeks are rounded and rosy from the cold, and the corners of your eyes wrinkle as you laugh.

You always reverted to the nine-year-old you when you were left free to skate—so carefree and unafraid. There were moments like now when he could watch you move smoothly on the ice and soar in the air forever. Days like today are what he will always be thankful for, and he hopes you get to have forever. No longer does he want to see you put yourself through so much pain and endure it for the sake of being the best in your sport. While Jungkook knows all too well that you need to put in the hard work to get a step forward toward your dream of being professionals in your own field, he also knew when too much was too much. In all those days where you suffered, Jungkook did, too. So, he vowed to never forget that there's a version of you who knew how to revel and not overthink every move she made on the ice. And it is his duty to always remind you of her.

Your squeal broke him out of his trance. And Jungkook would have felt the strain in his muscle when he whipped his head, turning to look through the glass, past the bleachers, if the sight hadn't irked him. Jealousy stirred as he spots Jimin's arms on your waist and the other outstretched to hold yours. He knows it's nothing malicious. You've been practicing that stance with him for years when you were kids, thanks to his mom. But something about seeing Jimin with you and the fact that you've defended the guy when Jungkook blamed him for your sprained leg AND even managed to gush about how graceful he skates left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Plus, not to be bitter and petty, but Jungkook thinks he skates well—better even. And yet you've never complimented him.

"Not my girl," Jungkook murmurs under his breath. "And it's a routine. Not exactly cozying up." He scoffs and takes his stick from Yugyeom a little too aggressively, causing his friend-slash-teammate to chuckle.

"You seem to know a lot about routines," Jackson cuts in. "But then again, why wouldn’t you, Jungkook?" The lilt in the older man's voice as he said Jungkook's name wasn't unnoticed, but Jungkook didn't have enough patience and attention to spare to even humor the guy. He also knew whatever Jackson had to say would be anything but a friendly banter.

Jungkook only acknowledges the man with a side-eye and raised brow as he tapes his hockey stick.

Unfortunately, Jackson refuses to shut his mouth; the man is clearly on a mission to get a reaction from Jungkook.

The rest of the hockey team starts to come out of the locker rooms, clumping to the bleachers. With the gathering crowd, Jackson raises his voice, demanding attention and an audience. "You know, there's this move figure skaters do where they spin and spin and spin, circling around their partner." With his head tilted and standing in front of Jungkook, he gives him a haughty glare.

And still, Jungkook’s attention remains on you. You’re only just occupying your side of the rink—the opposite side where his team is gathered at. Whatever you hear on your end should be incoherent. You don't need to hear the bullshit coming out of his teammate's mouth, he thinks.

"What was it she preferred to call it again?" Jackson pretends to wait for Jungkook to answer. Yugyeom, on the other hand, looked apologetic. What started out as playful teasing turned into a way for Jackson to provoke their team captain, and everyone knew how Jackson loved to rile Jungkook. While everyone thought it was because the older man lost the title to someone younger, that was only partly the reason.

"Ah, right," Jackson walks closer to Jungkook. He claps Jungkook's shoulder before gripping tightly into it. "Orbiting,” Jackson grins. He’s taunting, hooking Jungkook, demanding his full attention. “Y/N does it well, but you clearly do it the best,” he mocks. “It’s comical watching you run in circles around the bitch for years.” His sly smile turns to pointed chuckles as he feels Jungkook tense under his grip.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Closing in on Jungkook's ear, Jackson whispers, "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she does it intentionally, especially to guys she dances with. I bet Park's gonna be her new boy toy now, huh?"

Jungkook was never a violent man. Even on the ice, in a game, he never started brawls. The one time he got tangled in a fight, he couldn’t stand the disappointed glare you gave him. It hurt more than the 13 stitches on his head and scarier than his mom’s scolding.

And yet, Jungkook throws the first punch straight to Jackson’s jaw.

Jungkook can take a joke and can easily shake off empty trash talk and name-calling from his team. In fact, he lets them make jokes about him about his blatant simping for you because it’s true, and anything untrue, he doesn’t see the point in entertaining it. But he draws the line when the jabs are at the expense of the people he loves.

In a matter of seconds, Jackson returns the punch, and a full brawl breaks out.

On the opposite end, you and Jimin match your stride as a pair—being aware of each other’s movement and syncing your limbs to move as one; oblivious to the growing chaos.

You’re in the middle of a Lutz when the commotion steals your focus. You wobble on your landing and Jimin’s quick to hold you from falling. You turn towards the racket and see a mass of bulky men shouting.

It’s Jungkook’s team.

You skate closer to the chaos, and it’s not until you see a pressed back on the glass, the number 97 jersey bold and taut on their back, that you speed skate. Behind you, Jimin calls your name and follows.

You see Yugyeom restrain Jackson, and the other guys are holding back Jungkook. A flurry of curse words flies out of Jackson’s mouth. Entering the box, your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. You can already see his busted lip and sore knuckles. You call his name, and he looks up, jaws locked and tense. It takes a moment for his clenched knuckles to relax. He stands up and shrugs off the arms holding him.

Yet again, Jackson cuts in, “You guys are quite a pair, huh?” he laughs, humorless.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Yugyeom struggles but eventually manages to drag Jackson away from the group. Sensing that Jungkook won't follow and lunge at Jackson, the rest of the guys disperse. All that’s left gathered on the bleachers is you and Jungkook.

And Jimin. 

Your new partner’s existence annoys Jungkook. Your doe-eyed friend wonders if Jimin knows he doesn’t have to stand so close beside you. He watches with eagle eyes as Jimin hands out your skate guards. You teeter sideways as you clasp the rubber on your skates, and Jungkook hates the sight in front of him—you’re holding on to Jimin for support, and his arm is on your waist to keep you steady.

Fueled by jealousy and adrenaline, Jungkook walks towards you just in time to catch your arm away from Jimin’s body as you switch to putting on the other rubber guard on your skates.

You feel smushed as you stand sandwiched between two guys. Feeling claustrophobic, you push Jungkook by his chest to look at his injuries. “Your lips are bleeding,” your tone colder than ice, a contrast to your warm hands inspecting the blooming bruises on his face. “It’s nothing,” Jungkook murmurs, his head turning sideways, away from you.

You tsk at his stubbornness and press your thumb on his split lip, earning a pained hiss. “We have to clean this so it doesn’t scar.” Before Jungkook can protest and put on his macho bravado, you turn to Jimin. “Can we take a rain check on lunch?” your voice barely above a whisper. But Jungkook’s not only stubborn, he’s nosey, too—masking how hard he strains to listen to your conversation with an unbothered face.

There's an exchange of whispers, then Jimin looks at him, then back at you. He smiles and nods at you. “I'll see you later, then.” His hands connect with your arm for a comforting squeeze before leaving.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

-

“Where are we going?” Jungkook follows you as you drag him by his arm along the corridors. “The clinic’s closed on weekends,” he points out, but the only response he gets is a huff.

You’re a bit eerily quiet. Calm, even. He fears what follows, so he thinks of a way to pacify you.

“Well. Lucky for you, Jeon, I have the keys.” You dangle the set of keys on your fingers. “Your mom gave them to me before she left.”

You unlock the clinic and usher Jungkook in the compact space. “I seem to always end up hurt when I practice and it’s not like your mom has her eyes on me all the time, so she lends me the key to the clinic.” You push Jungkook to the foamed table. “Sit.”

Jungkook follows suit, still mum, still thinking. He knows he's on wafer-thin ice with you, but even so, he can't help but love the attention you’re giving him and the fact that you’re away from Jimin.

The image of you and Park on the rink is still vivid in his memory, stirring the tinge of jealousy that resides inside him. So, as you rummage through the cabinets, Jungkook pulls you close to him. “C’mere,” he whispers.

“Hold on, I have to find something for your lip.” Your body extends in the small space. Your arms are outstretched while you rummage through the cabinet for bandages and antiseptic cream, and your lower half is awkwardly bent, thighs wedged between Jungkook’s, and his hands support your hips. 

“Forget the cream. I know a better way to have this healed quickly.” His arms engulf your waist and pull you completely to him. You turn to tell him off, but before words can leave your mouth, Jungkook slots his lips to yours.

Before things could escalate, you begrudgingly pull away. “Nuh-uh. You think you’re so sly, huh?” You pinch his chin. “I still need to interrogate you on what exactly happened with Jackson back there.”

Jungkook deflates. “You know Jackson. He was spouting nonsense, and I guess he just got on my nerves.”

Curiosity peaked, you push Jungkook to tell you more. “What nonsense?” Your willful streak shows in your furrowed eyebrows. On most days, he loves it, but on a day like today, he wishes you knew when to get the hint and just drop it.

Jungkook groans. “I’m just really having one of those days, Y/N.” Arms still wrapped around your waist, he leans forward to rest his head on your chest. Instinctively, you run your fingers through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. Your best friend moans, and for the first time since you pulled him away from the bleachers, you let out a smile.

“Make me feel better,” he breathes. His face now burrowing into your breasts, and his fluffy hair tickles you.

“Gguk,” you giggle. “We’re in the clinic, and I'm pretty sure there are people nearby.” You softly pull at his hair to remove his head between your tits, but he just moans.

Oh.

“Don’t care, baby. Just focus on me,” he proposes with a kiss on your neck and his hands make soothing work on your back. When the only response he gets from you is a satisfied hum, he sits up further on the table. He lowers his hand, tapping your ass before he pulls you by the backs of your knees so you straddle his thighs on the table.

“Fuck, I love it when you wear skirts.” Jungkook’s hand disappears inside your clothes, palms once again making contact with your ass before he claws at your tights. “This I hate, though. Fuck.” he grumbles at the sheer garment.

“Oh, that's a shame," you pout. "I actually thought you'd love it. It’s crotchless," the last sentence coming out in a whisper. Cue another curse from his mouth. You momentarily pull away to get off the table and shed your safety shorts. “Need those off, Jeon," you command with a shoot of your brow towards his pants. “Wanna feel you. Don’t you want to feel me?”

You're a fucking tease, and Jungkook loves it.

You watch him struggle to unlatch his belt clasp—he’s roughly pulling at his padded pants and while you want to help, you decide to enjoy the sight before you as his thick thighs come into view. You climb back on top of Jungkook, his eyes following your movement until you plop your ass to his growing bulge.

Jungkook flips the front of your skirt and goes breathless at the sight. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Only for you.” Hands gripping his shoulders as an anchor, you drag your wet pussy to his bulge, and you both moan. “Wore this for you," you pant. "I knew you were practicing today and thought you'd need a cooldown after." You’re full-on humping him, drawing pleasured gasps from the man below you.

“Well, fuck me,” Jungkook throws his head back, eyes up on the ceiling and he thanks his lucky stars for you. You pull at his tight underwear, and his hard cock springs free—swollen red and leaking. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your pussy clenches at nothing.

“Please, Jungkook,” you plead. You’re beyond turned on. Your arousal mixes with Jungkook’s precum, and you can smell the sex permeating the air. It drives you feral. You spit at his cock before stroking it.

Jungkook revels in your neediness. This is what he wants—for you to need him, want him. And someday, he hopes it goes beyond sex. His arms pull your waist closer as you sink down on his cock in one drop.

“Shit, Y/N, you okay, baby?”

You respond with a breathy yes as you start bouncing on his dick. Your focus is directed on chasing your high and, at the same time, making sure Jungkook feels the same intensity of desire and pleasure you feel. With a roll of your hips, you clench around his shaft. He claws at your arched back as he sucks your tits with playful nips. Each sting heightens your arousal.

You play around with the angle of your hips and attune to Jungkook's reaction. But you struggle and near complete submission with each bite to your breast, every kiss to your lips, and slide to your folds. Once again, you’re rendered pliant and submissive on top of Jungkook.

Feeling you slow down, Jungkook taps your burning thighs. “On your back, baby,” he rasps. You shake your head but move to get on all fours—you raise your hips, shuffling to snuggle his cock in your ass and stretch your back. And to top it off, you clasp your hands on your back, giving him something to hold as he pounds into you.

Behind you, Jungkook is gobsmacked. What are you doing to him?

Presenting yourself for his use, Jungkook doesn't hesitate to hold your behaved hands with one grip, and his other hand guides his dick to smear your slick from your folds to your ass. He preens at the noises you make.

"Please," you drool. "Please what? Tell me what you want, baby," his voice matches the slow and soft movement of his tip on your folds.

With one last teasing push of his tip to your puffy clit, he completely bottoms out and holds.

“How’s that for feeling me, baby?” His lips ghost the shell of your ear, and it tickles you just right. You clench around him and reclaim one of your restrained hands between your now folded bodies to draw circles on your clit. You hear Jungkook chuckle before leaving a quick peck on your cheek. As he straightens up to pull out his dick, he reaches to swat your naughty hand on your clit and replaces it with his.

And it feels better.

His fingers play with your nub and continue to plunge in and out of you. The sound that echoes around the tiny room is pure filth—guttural groans and whiny moans harmonize.

“Baby, cum for me,” Jungkook hastens his rhythmic thrusting, and with a soft flick to your clit, you come undone. His movements quicken and cum-soaked hands travel upwards to your body to fondle your tits like it's his personal stress ball.

“Shit Jungkook. Feels good," you blabber. You love how you can feel his weight on top of you; the pressure makes his pounding harder and deeper and it overrides your oversensitivity. The pleasure is too good, too strong. With a bite to your shoulder to muffle himself, you cum with him.

-

“Don’t forget your shorts. Can’t have you skating with Park wearing just that."

"Right," you giggle and put on your shorts. "Can't be traumatizing my partner this soon."

"Good girl." Jungkook pats your ass.

"Hey," your hands pull Jungkook before he can leave. "What really happened back there?"

"Y/N, I told you it was nothing."

"Nothing? Jungkook, had the fight been longer, you could've been dismissed from the upcoming game."

"Well, we're fine. Plus, Jackson's not going to do anything or tell the coach. It's both our asses on the line."

"That doesn't mean you can go around throwing punches now. What if—"

Throwing his head back, Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, cutting you off. As he returns to face you, he sees the focused glare on your eyes—lids sharp and brows knitted. You're annoyed.

But so is he.

“You really wanna know? Fine. Jackson called me out. He said it was fucking comical how I wait around you like a lovesick puppy. It's actually a fucking running joke in our team that when you call, I come running." Words and feelings overflowed out of Jungkook's mouth, but he was not close to being done. "And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s actually true, and someone like him throwing that to my face just struck a nerve. He deserved the punch for running his mouth and calling you a bitch, too. Y/N, if you've heard the names he's called you, comments he made—"

"I don't care about that, Jungkook," you interrupt. One moment, you're in bliss, and now you've been hit with an accusation. "I don't care if he calls me a bitch or paints me however he wants. It's you I care about. I worry that one day, he manages to push you to your breaking point, and you do something that kicks you off the team." You feel like a bubble filled with emotions burst inside you, leaving you conflicted with what you feel. You're angry at Jackson, but also, if you think Jungkook is saying what he is saying, then half of you blooms in hope, but the other wilts at the revelation that he said it like he resents what he's feeling.

“So, do you resent me? For, I don't know, calling you? Wanting to be with you? Being friends with you?" The last question left your lips in a murmur. You've ranked low in competitions before, but you've never looked as defeated as you do now. To make it worse, you stand pathetic in front of Jungkook.

“I’m not saying that," Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. "I’ve been in love with you, Y/N,” he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud.

Jungkook imagined his confession to be far from this wreckage. This moment was the polar opposite of how he wanted it to go, but the words flurry out of his mouth before he could think of them. “I love you, but you’re always too hung up on every new guy that comes along to even see me…” he swallows the sob rising in his throat. “Sometimes I wonder if you keep me as a placeholder until a new guy comes.”

“A placeholder?” You're horrified. Jungkook's breaking your heart, and the thought that you apparently broke his shatters the pieces further.

“Aren’t I? When Jackson joined our team, all he had to do was wink and throw a cheesy line at you, and you’re all about him. And now Jimin—”

“Jimin?” Now, you're confused.

“Yes, Jimin. All he had to do was skate with you, and suddenly, I’m on the backburner.”

“Jungkook, where is this coming from? You’re making me out as someone who’s never been a friend to you.”

“Oh, you’ve been a friend, alright. But you can’t deny you’ve strung me up all along. Sometimes I wonder if you knew how I feel and you—”

“Stop," you plead. "Oh god, Jungkook, stop talking, please.” The tears you were holding back now freefall to your cheeks. “All this time, this is how you felt. You have been resenting me—"

"That's not what I'm saying! Do you not understand me?" Jungkook grows frustrated.

“No, I understand, Jungkook. Perfectly. I understand I’ve been selfish, teetering between wanting to keep you close to me and keeping you at a distance to protect myself." You don't want to invalidate his feelings, but he also needs to know where you're at. Thousands of thoughts are drowning you, and you're nowhere close to navigating your feelings; you're still conflicted and lost. But most of all, afraid. Will you lose Jungkook now? It frightens you that one wrong decision could crash your friendship beyond fixable. "But Jungkook, I’ve never seen you as someone I can set aside for anyone else because you’ve always been the first person I look for and reach out to. Even when I always thought you were so close yet so far to me, but still I—"

A knock pops the bubble you’re in. Rushing to wipe your cheeks dry, the door swings open to a clueless and shocked Jimin, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Shit, sorry," Jimin fidgets between wanting to close the door and leave but decides he'd rather not get in trouble, so with eyes on the floor, he calls for you.

"Coach is going ballistic looking for you, Y/N. And him, too. I mean, their coach is looking for him. He heard of the fight.”

More worry rushes to you. You try hard to stay afloat and level-headed, but you're sinking and sinking. “Right,” you clear your throat. “We were just cleaning up. We’re done here anyway.”

Once again, you feel claustrophobic. You need to leave. You don't trust yourself to make any decision in the state you're in. The last time you made a decision from what you were feeling, you made a selfish proposal to Jungkook. And look where that's gotten you now. You can't think, so you rush to leave the room, folding your arms before Jungkook can grab your wrist.

“Wait, Y/N—”

You linger briefly at the door, just enough so he can catch the defeated words that you speak, “We’re done, Jungkook.”

-

Come As You Are

[contortionist!jimin x reader; taehyung x reader] [2k+ smut, yandere, ‼️ strong language and dark themes]

Enter if you dare, but beware of the man who bends over backward to blur the line between his delusion and reality.

A/N: This will be a two-part fic. I was listening to FACE all day, and when Face-off played, this idea just popped up, and well, here we are. Happy reading!

-

You enter the carnival, giggling and vibrating with excitement beside Taehyung. Despite the faded and worn-out tents propped on the field, you're still welcomed with warm bright lights and cheery chatters. The dry summer air was masked with the aroma of savory butter popcorn and sweet cotton candies. You pull at your friend's arm toward the hypnotizing swirling pastels.

"You want one?"

You excitedly nod at him and he laughs. "Get me the Strawberry one, please." Your hands still clung to his arm, stealing all the warmth as the evening approached with its cooler air.

You glance around the area, and your heart swells. It's been a while since you've visited a carnival. All around, you see pastel-painted rides spin and hear fortune tellers yell with promises of glimpses into the future and barkers inviting everyone to enter their booth.

Looking around the merriment, you get pulled and transfixed to a tent decored with big, bold letters, the word "Come As You Are" spelled out in neon yellow lights. Unlike the other tents, there seemed to be fewer people in line. With an inexplicable curiosity, you feel drawn to the tent—your senses zone in on the dark entrance. Your right foot steps forward and your hands detach from your friend's arms.

"Here." A bright pink bear-shaped cotton candy is thrust in front of you, breaking you out of what seems to be a trance. Landing back to your senses, you grin at Taehyung, followed by a kiss on his cheek as thanks.

"Hey, we should check what's in there," your finger points to where the neon light glimmers.

Taehyung hums, neck craning to look at the shabby tent. "Doesn't look much fun," he pouts. "Let's get on all the rides first, then come back to it before heading home."

With your mouth busy with the soft treat, you only nod in reply. Oblivious to the eyes following you as you walk further away from him with another man.

-

You and Taehyung arrive at your floor, and with a harsh push, the exit door opens. A loud bang resonates in the dim hallway and you break out in laughter with the man carrying you. You will definitely get another warning from the front desk for being too noisy. But fuck it. You're happy.

With his broad hands spread on the back of your thighs, Taehyung still carries you on his back as he walks toward your door. A playful grin on his face and an even more playful banter spilled from his mouth.

"Okay, you can put me down here," you giggle and untangle your legs from his waist. You rummage through your bag for your keys, fingers anxiously fumbling through the mess of coins and tissues over time.

"Shit," you grunt in frustration, followed by another curse. "Did I drop my keys? Tae, could you check the stairs, please." You crouch and pour out the contents of your bag. Still, no keys were in sight.

"What would you do without me?" You look up at a nonchalant Taehyung leaning on your door, a copy of your key in his hand. Your mouth parts in shock.

"You couldn't have told me you kept a copy of my key before I made a mess here!" You playfully glare at the man above you as he opens your door. You aggressively pick up your stuff on the smelly carpeted floor with huffs and your fingers make contact with a textured paper with concentric circles. Thinking nothing of it, you shove the paper back inside your bag along with receipts.

Finally entering the comforts of your home, you remember how full your heart has been since tonight. You gaze at the man standing in the middle of your kitchen. If you weren't too smitten with him, you would have beaten his ass for eating all of your snacks, just like old times.

Oh, the old times.

"Why are you just standing there?" Taehyung asks, keeping you from reminiscing what once was.

You sneer at him before plopping to the couch. Your mind wanders to the carnival, suddenly remembering you missed stopping by the tent you saw earlier. A sliver of relief fought its way inside you, and you couldn't understand why. Puzzled by your sudden emotion, you decide not to ponder on it and rather focus on the playing scene on the screen. Leave it to your friend to choose a film to wrap up the night. Of course, he would play a horror film.

Taehyung sits beside you a minute later, and you bask in his presence—using each jump scare and booming sound as a reason to move closer to Taehyung's arms, allowing his arms to engulf you.

A graphic sex scene pops up on the screen, and you straighten up. You weren't a prude, but having Taehyung beside you as the scene gets more lewd each second—slapping skins and pornographic moans play on the speaker, the tension in the room thickens. Your bodies are now centimeters apart on the couch, the gap filled with unspoken desires that hang heavy in the air.

From your peripheral view, you see Taehyung move uncomfortably. Following his movements, you catch his hand move to his crotch and adjust himself.

Oh, god.

Did he just? Is he?

Your thoughts run wild, wandering to the forbidden locked ideas you keep buried in your mind. Suddenly, you feel hot, and the room feels hotter. Kicking off the draped blanket over your legs, you belatedly realize you were wearing a skimpy skirt.

Taehyung's eyes follow the movement and snort. Without letting a full minute pass, his hands land on your thigh, caressing upwards to cup your cunt. "Tae," you warn, and yet the word comes out in a sultry tone as if encouraging him to do more.

Because truth be told, you do want more.

He closes the space between you with a searing kiss, tongue pushing past your closed lips. The movie playing on the screen is long forgotten, as his finger on your cunt demands your full attention.

With every shared breath and tender peck at your lips is Taehyung's whispered confession; each dainty finger he gently pushes past your folds is his unspoken desire.

And all you can do is respond in the same language.

You pull at Taehyung's waistband to shove your other hand and grab his cock. Taking his grunt as a response, your hands go lower to fondle his balls. "Wanna taste you," you drool, and your mouth remains open, already ready and anticipating to swallow your friend's dick.

But Taehyung shakes his head, his thumb smudging the lipstick that remained on your lips. "Not today," he breathes. "Today, you give me your pussy." He pulls you by the waist and mounts you on his lap. You lift your skirt higher and unbutton your blouse, freeing your tits. "Fucking hello." His hands were quick to abandon your hips to cup your breasts.

Taking control, you stroke Taehyung to get him fully erect before eagerly sinking down on him. His hands pause from playing with your tits to throw his head back and thrust his cock, bottoming out.

You both let a minute pass—just feeling each other. Eyes glisten with unsaid words that will never leave your mouth. Instead, Taehyung thrusts upwards as you meet him halfway. The intense slamming of your thighs harmonizes with the pornographic noise you and Taehyung make.

While anyone would say you're both exaggerating or perhaps putting on a show for the other, that wasn't the case. You would gladly confess how Taehyung's cock splits your pussy open in the most toe-curling, gratifying, pleasurable way. And Taehyung would say the same about your tight cunt. Or perhaps, it's the longing and deep love you have that intensifies the sex.

Either way, you always managed to fulfill each other, bringing the other to a euphoric bliss and always sealing it with a sloppy kiss.

Your bodies remain tangled under the blankets; you soon feel the exhaustion catch up to you, and with Taehyung's comforting scent circling you, your eyes flutter. Your beauty sleep beckons you to give in.

Yet, in the hazy transition between staying awake and dreaming, the fine line where you are rendered susceptible, a sudden thought creeps into your consciousness, insisting to be acted upon.

"We should go back to the carnival tomorrow," you murmur. Your friend beside you remains tranquil. Even Taehyung himself isn't immune to the oncoming sleep. And so, he only hums in agreement, his chest vibrating through your cheek.

"He's waiting for me," you mumble.

No one but the night air hearing you.

As you both fall deeper into slumber and the movie credits roll, you remain unaware of the man loitering outside your building—waiting and hating every second that ticked by without you in his arms.

"I'll see you soon, love," he whispers back into the night.

-

Your weekdays pass in a blur. It was like you were puppeteered with how clueless you were on how your week went by. You only feel grounded and yourself again when you receive a text from Taehyung confirming tonight's plan to head to the carnival.

Giddy like a school girl seeing her crush, you rushed to leave your office as the clock hit five. The fair opened at 7pm, which meant you had, at most, an hour to freshen up. You briefly questioned yourself on the sudden need to doll up, not knowing where this feeling came from. Sure, you were attracted to Taehyung, but you never felt the need to do something other than be yourself.

Holding yourself back from overthinking. You ready for the night ahead. You wouldn't normally wear white on a night out to the fair, being that it was impractical with all the mess you could bump into, but your hands mindlessly pulled out a blouse as white as a wedding veil from your closet.

-

"We're going to the booth you wanted to go in first," Taehyung shows you the ticket in his hands as he leads you both toward the entrance. The bright "Come As You Are" flickers, and you shudder as you feel a chill run down your spine.

"Are you cold?" Not waiting for a reply, Taehyung sheds his jacket and hangs it around your shoulders. You enter the tent, and the chill doubles, and yet there is a welcoming aura that seems to greet you. You properly wear Taehyung's jacket and zip it up and the owner of the clothing smugly smiles at you.

You're holding hands as you make your way to your chairs. And as soon as you're seated, the show immediately starts, as if it only waited for you to settle.

The curtains part to reveal a stage illuminated with a spotlight. You look around the audience and a sinister vibe washes over you. Everyone was still and hushed. Something felt off. Your nerves tingle in unease, and your gut tells you to leave. Moving closer to Taehyung to whisper in his ear, a fanfare booms in the speakers, startling you both.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our very own Mr Fantastic, Jimin!

The contortionist emerged, his lithe form moving nimbly across the platform, each movement an eerie dance of his contorted body. But you weren’t drawn to his impressive acrobatics like everyone was. Instead, your eyes were locked with his—dark and piercing. It was like you were both in a chilling embrace in your own way. His gaze dares you to look away, but he knows you can't.

Eyes on me, love.

As Jimin bends and twists his body into impossible shapes, his purple suit stretches beautifully around his limbs, and his gaze remains fixated on you. Unwavering and intense. You were hypnotized. It felt like Jimin was reaching out to you with his own language. 

Focus on me.

Soon enough, the audience breaks into loud applause that echoes through the tent. You break free of his gaze and look at Taehyung. Your friend holds amusement and awe in his eyes, clapping earnestly along with the audience. Amidst the cheers, you hear a hushed voice,

“Come to me now.”

You flinch at the sound. It was so soft and so near, it felt like the person next to you whispered in your ear. You look around, and when you turn towards the stage, you see Jimin already staring at you. Smirking.

-

>> Page 2

Come As You Are

[contortionist!jimin x reader; taehyung x reader] [2k+ smut, yandere, ‼️ strong language and dark themes]

Enter if you dare, but beware of the man who bends over backward to blur the line between his delusion and reality.

A/N: This will be a two-part fic. I was listening to FACE all day, and when Face-off played, this idea just popped up, and well, here we are. Happy reading!

-

You enter the carnival, giggling and vibrating with excitement beside Taehyung. Despite the faded and worn-out tents propped on the field, you're still welcomed with warm bright lights and cheery chatters. The dry summer air was masked with the aroma of savory butter popcorn and sweet cotton candies. You pull at your friend's arm toward the hypnotizing swirling pastels.

"You want one?"

You excitedly nod at him and he laughs. "Get me the Strawberry one, please." Your hands still clung to his arm, stealing all the warmth as the evening approached with its cooler air.

You glance around the area, and your heart swells. It's been a while since you've visited a carnival. All around, you see pastel-painted rides spin and hear fortune tellers yell with promises of glimpses into the future and barkers inviting everyone to enter their booth.

Looking around the merriment, you get pulled and transfixed to a tent decored with big, bold letters, the word "Come As You Are" spelled out in neon yellow lights. Unlike the other tents, there seemed to be fewer people in line. With an inexplicable curiosity, you feel drawn to the tent—your senses zone in on the dark entrance. Your right foot steps forward and your hands detach from your friend's arms.

"Here." A bright pink bear-shaped cotton candy is thrust in front of you, breaking you out of what seems to be a trance. Landing back to your senses, you grin at Taehyung, followed by a kiss on his cheek as thanks.

"Hey, we should check what's in there," your finger points to where the neon light glimmers.

Taehyung hums, neck craning to look at the shabby tent. "Doesn't look much fun," he pouts. "Let's get on all the rides first, then come back to it before heading home."

With your mouth busy with the soft treat, you only nod in reply. Oblivious to the eyes following you as you walk further away from him with another man.

-

You and Taehyung arrive at your floor, and with a harsh push, the exit door opens. A loud bang resonates in the dim hallway and you break out in laughter with the man carrying you. You will definitely get another warning from the front desk for being too noisy. But fuck it. You're happy.

With his broad hands spread on the back of your thighs, Taehyung still carries you on his back as he walks toward your door. A playful grin on his face and an even more playful banter spilled from his mouth.

"Okay, you can put me down here," you giggle and untangle your legs from his waist. You rummage through your bag for your keys, fingers anxiously fumbling through the mess of coins and tissues over time.

"Shit," you grunt in frustration, followed by another curse. "Did I drop my keys? Tae, could you check the stairs, please." You crouch and pour out the contents of your bag. Still, no keys were in sight.

"What would you do without me?" You look up at a nonchalant Taehyung leaning on your door, a copy of your key in his hand. Your mouth parts in shock.

"You couldn't have told me you kept a copy of my key before I made a mess here!" You playfully glare at the man above you as he opens your door. You aggressively pick up your stuff on the smelly carpeted floor with huffs and your fingers make contact with a textured paper with concentric circles. Thinking nothing of it, you shove the paper back inside your bag along with receipts.

Finally entering the comforts of your home, you remember how full your heart has been since tonight. You gaze at the man standing in the middle of your kitchen. If you weren't too smitten with him, you would have beaten his ass for eating all of your snacks, just like old times.

Oh, the old times.

"Why are you just standing there?" Taehyung asks, keeping you from reminiscing what once was.

You sneer at him before plopping to the couch. Your mind wanders to the carnival, suddenly remembering you missed stopping by the tent you saw earlier. A sliver of relief fought its way inside you, and you couldn't understand why. Puzzled by your sudden emotion, you decide not to ponder on it and rather focus on the playing scene on the screen. Leave it to your friend to choose a film to wrap up the night. Of course, he would play a horror film.

Taehyung sits beside you a minute later, and you bask in his presence—using each jump scare and booming sound as a reason to move closer to Taehyung's arms, allowing his arms to engulf you.

A graphic sex scene pops up on the screen, and you straighten up. You weren't a prude, but having Taehyung beside you as the scene gets more lewd each second—slapping skins and pornographic moans play on the speaker, the tension in the room thickens. Your bodies are now centimeters apart on the couch, the gap filled with unspoken desires that hang heavy in the air.

From your peripheral view, you see Taehyung move uncomfortably. Following his movements, you catch his hand move to his crotch and adjust himself.

Oh, god.

Did he just? Is he?

Your thoughts run wild, wandering to the forbidden locked ideas you keep buried in your mind. Suddenly, you feel hot, and the room feels hotter. Kicking off the draped blanket over your legs, you belatedly realize you were wearing a skimpy skirt.

Taehyung's eyes follow the movement and snort. Without letting a full minute pass, his hands land on your thigh, caressing upwards to cup your cunt. "Tae," you warn, and yet the word comes out in a sultry tone as if encouraging him to do more.

Because truth be told, you do want more.

He closes the space between you with a searing kiss, tongue pushing past your closed lips. The movie playing on the screen is long forgotten, as his finger on your cunt demands your full attention.

With every shared breath and tender peck at your lips is Taehyung's whispered confession; each dainty finger he gently pushes past your folds is his unspoken desire.

And all you can do is respond in the same language.

You pull at Taehyung's waistband to shove your other hand and grab his cock. Taking his grunt as a response, your hands go lower to fondle his balls. "Wanna taste you," you drool, and your mouth remains open, already ready and anticipating to swallow your friend's dick.

But Taehyung shakes his head, his thumb smudging the lipstick that remained on your lips. "Not today," he breathes. "Today, you give me your pussy." He pulls you by the waist and mounts you on his lap. You lift your skirt higher and unbutton your blouse, freeing your tits. "Fucking hello." His hands were quick to abandon your hips to cup your breasts.

Taking control, you stroke Taehyung to get him fully erect before eagerly sinking down on him. His hands pause from playing with your tits to throw his head back and thrust his cock, bottoming out.

You both let a minute pass—just feeling each other. Eyes glisten with unsaid words that will never leave your mouth. Instead, Taehyung thrusts upwards as you meet him halfway. The intense slamming of your thighs harmonizes with the pornographic noise you and Taehyung make.

While anyone would say you're both exaggerating or perhaps putting on a show for the other, that wasn't the case. You would gladly confess how Taehyung's cock splits your pussy open in the most toe-curling, gratifying, pleasurable way. And Taehyung would say the same about your tight cunt. Or perhaps, it's the longing and deep love you have that intensifies the sex.

Either way, you always managed to fulfill each other, bringing the other to a euphoric bliss and always sealing it with a sloppy kiss.

Your bodies remain tangled under the blankets; you soon feel the exhaustion catch up to you, and with Taehyung's comforting scent circling you, your eyes flutter. Your beauty sleep beckons you to give in.

Yet, in the hazy transition between staying awake and dreaming, the fine line where you are rendered susceptible, a sudden thought creeps into your consciousness, insisting to be acted upon.

"We should go back to the carnival tomorrow," you murmur. Your friend beside you remains tranquil. Even Taehyung himself isn't immune to the oncoming sleep. And so, he only hums in agreement, his chest vibrating through your cheek.

"He's waiting for me," you mumble.

No one but the night air hearing you.

As you both fall deeper into slumber and the movie credits roll, you remain unaware of the man loitering outside your building—waiting and hating every second that ticked by without you in his arms.

"I'll see you soon, love," he whispers back into the night.

-

Your weekdays pass in a blur. It was like you were puppeteered with how clueless you were on how your week went by. You only feel grounded and yourself again when you receive a text from Taehyung confirming tonight's plan to head to the carnival.

Giddy like a school girl seeing her crush, you rushed to leave your office as the clock hit five. The fair opened at 7pm, which meant you had, at most, an hour to freshen up. You briefly questioned yourself on the sudden need to doll up, not knowing where this feeling came from. Sure, you were attracted to Taehyung, but you never felt the need to do something other than be yourself.

Holding yourself back from overthinking. You ready for the night ahead. You wouldn't normally wear white on a night out to the fair, being that it was impractical with all the mess you could bump into, but your hands mindlessly pulled out a blouse as white as a wedding veil from your closet.

-

"We're going to the booth you wanted to go in first," Taehyung shows you the ticket in his hands as he leads you both toward the entrance. The bright "Come As You Are" flickers, and you shudder as you feel a chill run down your spine.

"Are you cold?" Not waiting for a reply, Taehyung sheds his jacket and hangs it around your shoulders. You enter the tent, and the chill doubles, and yet there is a welcoming aura that seems to greet you. You properly wear Taehyung's jacket and zip it up and the owner of the clothing smugly smiles at you.

You're holding hands as you make your way to your chairs. And as soon as you're seated, the show immediately starts, as if it only waited for you to settle.

The curtains part to reveal a stage illuminated with a spotlight. You look around the audience and a sinister vibe washes over you. Everyone was still and hushed. Something felt off. Your nerves tingle in unease, and your gut tells you to leave. Moving closer to Taehyung to whisper in his ear, a fanfare booms in the speakers, startling you both.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our very own Mr Fantastic, Jimin!

The contortionist emerged, his lithe form moving nimbly across the platform, each movement an eerie dance of his contorted body. But you weren’t drawn to his impressive acrobatics like everyone was. Instead, your eyes were locked with his—dark and piercing. It was like you were both in a chilling embrace in your own way. His gaze dares you to look away, but he knows you can't.

Eyes on me, love.

As Jimin bends and twists his body into impossible shapes, his purple suit stretches beautifully around his limbs, and his gaze remains fixated on you. Unwavering and intense. You were hypnotized. It felt like Jimin was reaching out to you with his own language. 

Focus on me.

Soon enough, the audience breaks into loud applause that echoes through the tent. You break free of his gaze and look at Taehyung. Your friend holds amusement and awe in his eyes, clapping earnestly along with the audience. Amidst the cheers, you hear a hushed voice,

“Come to me now.”

You flinch at the sound. It was so soft and so near, it felt like the person next to you whispered in your ear. You look around, and when you turn towards the stage, you see Jimin already staring at you. Smirking.

-

Lights Out, Words Gone

[yoongi x reader] [1.4k+ friends to lovers, light angst]

A/N: So, there was an attempt, by me. Heh. I'm just really trying to get back into creative writing. I used to enjoy writing, but no one told me that turning that into a career and years of writing newsletters and articles for corporate dulls the mind and at this point, even journaling feels like a chore. But if you found this fic and somewhat enjoyed it, I'm grateful.

-

It's ridiculous, you think to yourself. How can someone be easily disarmed by a smile?

One minute, you're furiously driving at 2 a.m. to fetch Yoongi from a dive bar—miles and hours from where you live so you're well within reason to cuss him out; the next, you're giggling next to him after he told you the lamest joke you've ever heard.

"Y/N, what did the full glass of water say to the empty glass of water?"

In no mood for his shenanigans, you slide the bottle of water you bought during the drive over, closer to him. Unperturbed, he continues with a grin, "You look drunk."

You let out an annoyed sigh. The joke doesn't even make sense, and yet, because it's Yoongi's gummy smile and his contagious giggles that echo across the empty chairs and fills the bar, your mood shifts.

Suddenly, you snort a laugh. Hearing your amusement, his giggles turn into hearty laughs, and you follow.

Yoongi catches his breath after a minute and fluffs his hair. Suddenly, he looks so soft and cuddly. You feel your breath winded.

Feeling compelled to break the silence, you tease, "Did you steal that joke from Jin?" You don't wait for an answer. You usher Yoongi out of the corner of the bar he hid himself in and he lets you push him out as he weakly argues, "Did not. I thought of it myself. I can make funny jokes too, you know." You hum in response, amused by the pout forming on his face.

-

Yoongi trudges straight to his bedroom as soon as you arrive in his place. You follow, wanting to at least make sure he's tucked in with a bucket on his side of the bed—a precaution, lest he hurls his guts in bed, which rarely happens. But better to be safe than sorry.

You eye Yoongi as he grabs a shirt from his drawer and take that as your cue to leave.

"Stay the night," his voice gravelly. You stop mid-journey out the door.

What.

"Uh, Yoongi—"

"It's too late to drive," he crosses the room and pulls your hand to take his shirt. "And if you think I'm letting you take the couch, I'm offended. Sleep here."

A beat passes. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before," he winks.

Right. As if you'd forget. You remember all too well how Yoongi gets needy and cheesy when drunk—which is why you hesitate. You need to distance yourself before your feeling overwhelms you and make you do something you would regret.

"Remember hell weeks shared in Jin's fancy dorm room? You snored like a fucking berserk honking truck," he chuckles, probably remembering those younger versions of you whose only problems were exams and thesis defense.

The nostalgia hits you, and you quip, "Ya! I remember Jungkook and I pulling an all-nighter for all those times. It was actually you who loudly snored."

Yoongi erupts in soft gummy giggles as you playfully give him the stink eye.

-

Laying stiff beside him, you almost succeed in willing your mind to slip into dreamland when you hear comforters shuffling until you feel him closer to you.

"You awake?" he faces you. "I am now," you huff. You open your eyes to adjust to the dim room, the only light source coming from the street lamp post outside his bedroom window and the tiny static light of your charging phone on the bedside table.

"I just…" he starts, "I wanted to thank you for picking me up. The guys were either out of town or probably too deep in their sleep to hear their phones ring."

"Yes, well… I was on the other side of the town and deep in sleep when you called." You weren't sure what your point was. Probably wanted him to know that you know he definitely did not call anyone else but you tonight.

But of course, he knows that you know. He knows he can't bullshit you. Not when you used to spend every waking moment since you met in college, which was almost 24/7, since you barely slept then. Years of friendship synced you together—getting used to one's idiosyncrasies, being able to read each other across the room, and sharing the same opinion on all things you deemed important.

"And yet you still came. I'm surprised you actually picked up after weeks of radio silence."

Yoongi starts to pick at his nails, his anxiety peaking. Atuned to even his habits, your hands reach to envelop his and you rest your cheeks atop.

"I actually thought it was one of my booty calls," you joke. He doesn't laugh or react, so you turn serious, "I'm your friend, of course, I'll come get you."

Always.

You smile at him, "It actually wasn't a bother. Get some rest, Yoongi." Thinking you ended the conversation, he suddenly confronts you, "You say that but you suddenly cut me off. Why?"

Ah.

Now, you consider if he orchestrated the whole thing. Trying to corner you so he could finally confront you. It wouldn't be out of his character.

You unclasp your hands.

"I didn't cut you off," you lamely defend yourself and hope he lets it go.

Again, this is Yoongi who's calling you out. You can't evade him just like he can't bullshit you. So he holds out.

"Right. So you suddenly dodging my calls and missing weekly hangouts when I'm available to join, is what? Coincidence?" His voice remains calm, but you would miss how it sounds heavier if you hadn't known him for years. Each word is weighed down with pent-up emotion, and now those fueled words hit you like bricks.

"I've gotten busy. Everyone did after graduation." A half lie, half truth.

He shifts a bit closer to you. "You know, even in the dark, I can tell when you're lying, right? I may not see how your eyes get shifty, but your voice has that lilt at the end when you speak. Almost as if you're also trying to make yourself believe in your lie."

You can already feel the onset of a headache from your lack of sleep, but what's more pressing is how your heart dreads being this close to him again, even more so now that you're being called out and you have no excuse. At least nothing good enough to pass Yoongi.

As the minute passes, the silence thickens, and you feel yourself growing even more tired. It could be from the drive, lack of sleep, or that you just fucking had the most mentally-draining shift just hours before that you finally resigned with honesty. Besides, now that you take a glance at his curled-up form beside you, you admit that he, at least, deserves to know why you distanced yourself.

Yoongi has been your best friend for years—the one who made sure to look into your eyes as he encouraged you to take the extra classes because if you thought it would help you secure the job of your dreams, then he believed it would pay off in the end, and you needed to believe that, too.

Yoongi, who held your hand when you went through mental and emotional hurdles. You honestly believe you wouldn't be here now, living and breathing, had it not been for him.

If only the way you looked at him stayed the same, and how his hands felt in yours remained unnoticed, like those days when he held you as you hurled your guts at bar restrooms after chugging down cheap vodka and beers.

If only your affection towards Yoongi didn't root themselves in what you thought was your uninhabitable heart and grow its tendrils over the years of laughing, crying, and sharing even the most mundane moments with him.

And so you will be honest, but you don't know where to start other than offering an apology.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi. I fucked up," tears brim your eyes but you look at him. You let your repressed emotions out and they're coming out all at once that you're overwhelmed. But you need him to know

Yoongi doesn't respond but motions for you to continue. It's his turn to take your cold hand in his and warms it between his. And it is during this delicate moment that you let it out, "I seem to have fallen in love with you."

How cliche, you rebuke yourself.

You hear him let out a sigh. Out of relief or disappointment, you're unsure.

You shift your eyes to the window behind him and get a glimpse of the rising sun. The aura of the rising sun breaking the dark blue night sky.

You don't know how many seconds, minutes passed. Yoongi remains silent.

Oh god. Surely this can't be a good thing.

You should leave now. You pry your hands away, but before you could even leave the bed, Yoongi finally breaks his silence,

"Then I fucked up, too."

-

>> Read Lights Out, Words Spill

Orbiting: pt.4°

: pt.1° | pt.2° - pt.2,5° | pt.3°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [3.9k smut, angst. There's swearing; bitch-calling (non-sexual); this is purely fiction, please practice safe sex!; tons of dialogues. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, but tbh, I kinda struggled to steer the plot.

Also! Happy Hobi Day! Please give Be My Mistake some love, too! (if u want)

-

"Isn't that your girl, cozying up to Park?"

The first thing Jungkook sees is you—back on the rink, just where you belong. He's never seen someone as graceful as you glide. You always look beautiful like this, he thinks. The apples of your cheeks are rounded and rosy from the cold, and the corners of your eyes wrinkle as you laugh.

You always reverted to the nine-year-old you when you were left free to skate—so carefree and unafraid. There were moments like now when he could watch you move smoothly on the ice and soar in the air forever. Days like today are what he will always be thankful for, and he hopes you get to have forever. No longer does he want to see you put yourself through so much pain and endure it for the sake of being the best in your sport. While Jungkook knows all too well that you need to put in the hard work to get a step forward toward your dream of being professionals in your own field, he also knew when too much was too much. In all those days where you suffered, Jungkook did, too. So, he vowed to never forget that there's a version of you who knew how to revel and not overthink every move she made on the ice. And it is his duty to always remind you of her.

Your squeal broke him out of his trance. And Jungkook would have felt the strain in his muscle when he whipped his head, turning to look through the glass, past the bleachers, if the sight hadn't irked him. Jealousy stirred as he spots Jimin's arms on your waist and the other outstretched to hold yours. He knows it's nothing malicious. You've been practicing that stance with him for years when you were kids, thanks to his mom. But something about seeing Jimin with you and the fact that you've defended the guy when Jungkook blamed him for your sprained leg AND even managed to gush about how graceful he skates left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Plus, not to be bitter and petty, but Jungkook thinks he skates well—better even. And yet you've never complimented him.

"Not my girl," Jungkook murmurs under his breath. "And it's a routine. Not exactly cozying up." He scoffs and takes his stick from Yugyeom a little too aggressively, causing his friend-slash-teammate to chuckle.

"You seem to know a lot about routines," Jackson cuts in. "But then again, why wouldn’t you, Jungkook?" The lilt in the older man's voice as he said Jungkook's name wasn't unnoticed, but Jungkook didn't have enough patience and attention to spare to even humor the guy. He also knew whatever Jackson had to say would be anything but a friendly banter.

Jungkook only acknowledges the man with a side-eye and raised brow as he tapes his hockey stick.

Unfortunately, Jackson refuses to shut his mouth; the man is clearly on a mission to get a reaction from Jungkook.

The rest of the hockey team starts to come out of the locker rooms, clumping to the bleachers. With the gathering crowd, Jackson raises his voice, demanding attention and an audience. "You know, there's this move figure skaters do where they spin and spin and spin, circling around their partner." With his head tilted and standing in front of Jungkook, he gives him a haughty glare.

And still, Jungkook’s attention remains on you. You’re only just occupying your side of the rink—the opposite side where his team is gathered at. Whatever you hear on your end should be incoherent. You don't need to hear the bullshit coming out of his teammate's mouth, he thinks.

"What was it she preferred to call it again?" Jackson pretends to wait for Jungkook to answer. Yugyeom, on the other hand, looked apologetic. What started out as playful teasing turned into a way for Jackson to provoke their team captain, and everyone knew how Jackson loved to rile Jungkook. While everyone thought it was because the older man lost the title to someone younger, that was only partly the reason.

"Ah, right," Jackson walks closer to Jungkook. He claps Jungkook's shoulder before gripping tightly into it. "Orbiting,” Jackson grins. He’s taunting, hooking Jungkook, demanding his full attention. “Y/N does it well, but you clearly do it the best,” he mocks. “It’s comical watching you run in circles around the bitch for years.” His sly smile turns to pointed chuckles as he feels Jungkook tense under his grip.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Closing in on Jungkook's ear, Jackson whispers, "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she does it intentionally, especially to guys she dances with. I bet Park's gonna be her new boy toy now, huh?"

Jungkook was never a violent man. Even on the ice, in a game, he never started brawls. The one time he got tangled in a fight, he couldn’t stand the disappointed glare you gave him. It hurt more than the 13 stitches on his head and scarier than his mom’s scolding.

And yet, Jungkook throws the first punch straight to Jackson’s jaw.

Jungkook can take a joke and can easily shake off empty trash talk and name-calling from his team. In fact, he lets them make jokes about him about his blatant simping for you because it’s true, and anything untrue, he doesn’t see the point in entertaining it. But he draws the line when the jabs are at the expense of the people he loves.

In a matter of seconds, Jackson returns the punch, and a full brawl breaks out.

On the opposite end, you and Jimin match your stride as a pair—being aware of each other’s movement and syncing your limbs to move as one; oblivious to the growing chaos.

You’re in the middle of a Lutz when the commotion steals your focus. You wobble on your landing and Jimin’s quick to hold you from falling. You turn towards the racket and see a mass of bulky men shouting.

It’s Jungkook’s team.

You skate closer to the chaos, and it’s not until you see a pressed back on the glass, the number 97 jersey bold and taut on their back, that you speed skate. Behind you, Jimin calls your name and follows.

You see Yugyeom restrain Jackson, and the other guys are holding back Jungkook. A flurry of curse words flies out of Jackson’s mouth. Entering the box, your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. You can already see his busted lip and sore knuckles. You call his name, and he looks up, jaws locked and tense. It takes a moment for his clenched knuckles to relax. He stands up and shrugs off the arms holding him.

Yet again, Jackson cuts in, “You guys are quite a pair, huh?” he laughs, humorless.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Yugyeom struggles but eventually manages to drag Jackson away from the group. Sensing that Jungkook won't follow and lunge at Jackson, the rest of the guys disperse. All that’s left gathered on the bleachers is you and Jungkook.

And Jimin. 

Your new partner’s existence annoys Jungkook. Your doe-eyed friend wonders if Jimin knows he doesn’t have to stand so close beside you. He watches with eagle eyes as Jimin hands out your skate guards. You teeter sideways as you clasp the rubber on your skates, and Jungkook hates the sight in front of him—you’re holding on to Jimin for support, and his arm is on your waist to keep you steady.

Fueled by jealousy and adrenaline, Jungkook walks towards you just in time to catch your arm away from Jimin’s body as you switch to putting on the other rubber guard on your skates.

You feel smushed as you stand sandwiched between two guys. Feeling claustrophobic, you push Jungkook by his chest to look at his injuries. “Your lips are bleeding,” your tone colder than ice, a contrast to your warm hands inspecting the blooming bruises on his face. “It’s nothing,” Jungkook murmurs, his head turning sideways, away from you.

You tsk at his stubbornness and press your thumb on his split lip, earning a pained hiss. “We have to clean this so it doesn’t scar.” Before Jungkook can protest and put on his macho bravado, you turn to Jimin. “Can we take a rain check on lunch?” your voice barely above a whisper. But Jungkook’s not only stubborn, he’s nosey, too—masking how hard he strains to listen to your conversation with an unbothered face.

There's an exchange of whispers, then Jimin looks at him, then back at you. He smiles and nods at you. “I'll see you later, then.” His hands connect with your arm for a comforting squeeze before leaving.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

-

“Where are we going?” Jungkook follows you as you drag him by his arm along the corridors. “The clinic’s closed on weekends,” he points out, but the only response he gets is a huff.

You’re a bit eerily quiet. Calm, even. He fears what follows, so he thinks of a way to pacify you.

“Well. Lucky for you, Jeon, I have the keys.” You dangle the set of keys on your fingers. “Your mom gave them to me before she left.”

You unlock the clinic and usher Jungkook in the compact space. “I seem to always end up hurt when I practice and it’s not like your mom has her eyes on me all the time, so she lends me the key to the clinic.” You push Jungkook to the foamed table. “Sit.”

Jungkook follows suit, still mum, still thinking. He knows he's on wafer-thin ice with you, but even so, he can't help but love the attention you’re giving him and the fact that you’re away from Jimin.

The image of you and Park on the rink is still vivid in his memory, stirring the tinge of jealousy that resides inside him. So, as you rummage through the cabinets, Jungkook pulls you close to him. “C’mere,” he whispers.

“Hold on, I have to find something for your lip.” Your body extends in the small space. Your arms are outstretched while you rummage through the cabinet for bandages and antiseptic cream, and your lower half is awkwardly bent, thighs wedged between Jungkook’s, and his hands support your hips. 

“Forget the cream. I know a better way to have this healed quickly.” His arms engulf your waist and pull you completely to him. You turn to tell him off, but before words can leave your mouth, Jungkook slots his lips to yours.

Before things could escalate, you begrudgingly pull away. “Nuh-uh. You think you’re so sly, huh?” You pinch his chin. “I still need to interrogate you on what exactly happened with Jackson back there.”

Jungkook deflates. “You know Jackson. He was spouting nonsense, and I guess he just got on my nerves.”

Curiosity peaked, you push Jungkook to tell you more. “What nonsense?” Your willful streak shows in your furrowed eyebrows. On most days, he loves it, but on a day like today, he wishes you knew when to get the hint and just drop it.

Jungkook groans. “I’m just really having one of those days, Y/N.” Arms still wrapped around your waist, he leans forward to rest his head on your chest. Instinctively, you run your fingers through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. Your best friend moans, and for the first time since you pulled him away from the bleachers, you let out a smile.

“Make me feel better,” he breathes. His face now burrowing into your breasts, and his fluffy hair tickles you.

“Gguk,” you giggle. “We’re in the clinic, and I'm pretty sure there are people nearby.” You softly pull at his hair to remove his head between your tits, but he just moans.

Oh.

“Don’t care, baby. Just focus on me,” he proposes with a kiss on your neck and his hands make soothing work on your back. When the only response he gets from you is a satisfied hum, he sits up further on the table. He lowers his hand, tapping your ass before he pulls you by the backs of your knees so you straddle his thighs on the table.

“Fuck, I love it when you wear skirts.” Jungkook’s hand disappears inside your clothes, palms once again making contact with your ass before he claws at your tights. “This I hate, though. Fuck.” he grumbles at the sheer garment.

“Oh, that's a shame," you pout. "I actually thought you'd love it. It’s crotchless," the last sentence coming out in a whisper. Cue another curse from his mouth. You momentarily pull away to get off the table and shed your safety shorts. “Need those off, Jeon," you command with a shoot of your brow towards his pants. “Wanna feel you. Don’t you want to feel me?”

You're a fucking tease, and Jungkook loves it.

You watch him struggle to unlatch his belt clasp—he’s roughly pulling at his padded pants and while you want to help, you decide to enjoy the sight before you as his thick thighs come into view. You climb back on top of Jungkook, his eyes following your movement until you plop your ass to his growing bulge.

Jungkook flips the front of your skirt and goes breathless at the sight. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Only for you.” Hands gripping his shoulders as an anchor, you drag your wet pussy to his bulge, and you both moan. “Wore this for you," you pant. "I knew you were practicing today and thought you'd need a cooldown after." You’re full-on humping him, drawing pleasured gasps from the man below you.

“Well, fuck me,” Jungkook throws his head back, eyes up on the ceiling and he thanks his lucky stars for you. You pull at his tight underwear, and his hard cock springs free—swollen red and leaking. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your pussy clenches at nothing.

“Please, Jungkook,” you plead. You’re beyond turned on. Your arousal mixes with Jungkook’s precum, and you can smell the sex permeating the air. It drives you feral. You spit at his cock before stroking it.

Jungkook revels in your neediness. This is what he wants—for you to need him, want him. And someday, he hopes it goes beyond sex. His arms pull your waist closer as you sink down on his cock in one drop.

“Shit, Y/N, you okay, baby?”

You respond with a breathy yes as you start bouncing on his dick. Your focus is directed on chasing your high and, at the same time, making sure Jungkook feels the same intensity of desire and pleasure you feel. With a roll of your hips, you clench around his shaft. He claws at your arched back as he sucks your tits with playful nips. Each sting heightens your arousal.

You play around with the angle of your hips and attune to Jungkook's reaction. But you struggle and near complete submission with each bite to your breast, every kiss to your lips, and slide to your folds. Once again, you’re rendered pliant and submissive on top of Jungkook.

Feeling you slow down, Jungkook taps your burning thighs. “On your back, baby,” he rasps. You shake your head but move to get on all fours—you raise your hips, shuffling to snuggle his cock in your ass and stretch your back. And to top it off, you clasp your hands on your back, giving him something to hold as he pounds into you.

Behind you, Jungkook is gobsmacked. What are you doing to him?

Presenting yourself for his use, Jungkook doesn't hesitate to hold your behaved hands with one grip, and his other hand guides his dick to smear your slick from your folds to your ass. He preens at the noises you make.

"Please," you drool. "Please what? Tell me what you want, baby," his voice matches the slow and soft movement of his tip on your folds.

With one last teasing push of his tip to your puffy clit, he completely bottoms out and holds.

“How’s that for feeling me, baby?” His lips ghost the shell of your ear, and it tickles you just right. You clench around him and reclaim one of your restrained hands between your now folded bodies to draw circles on your clit. You hear Jungkook chuckle before leaving a quick peck on your cheek. As he straightens up to pull out his dick, he reaches to swat your naughty hand on your clit and replaces it with his.

And it feels better.

His fingers play with your nub and continue to plunge in and out of you. The sound that echoes around the tiny room is pure filth—guttural groans and whiny moans harmonize.

“Baby, cum for me,” Jungkook hastens his rhythmic thrusting, and with a soft flick to your clit, you come undone. His movements quicken and cum-soaked hands travel upwards to your body to fondle your tits like it's his personal stress ball.

“Shit Jungkook. Feels good," you blabber. You love how you can feel his weight on top of you; the pressure makes his pounding harder and deeper and it overrides your oversensitivity. The pleasure is too good, too strong. With a bite to your shoulder to muffle himself, you cum with him.

-

“Don’t forget your shorts. Can’t have you skating with Park wearing just that."

"Right," you giggle and put on your shorts. "Can't be traumatizing my partner this soon."

"Good girl." Jungkook pats your ass.

"Hey," your hands pull Jungkook before he can leave. "What really happened back there?"

"Y/N, I told you it was nothing."

"Nothing? Jungkook, had the fight been longer, you could've been dismissed from the upcoming game."

"Well, we're fine. Plus, Jackson's not going to do anything or tell the coach. It's both our asses on the line."

"That doesn't mean you can go around throwing punches now. What if—"

Throwing his head back, Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, cutting you off. As he returns to face you, he sees the focused glare on your eyes—lids sharp and brows knitted. You're annoyed.

But so is he.

“You really wanna know? Fine. Jackson called me out. He said it was fucking comical how I wait around you like a lovesick puppy. It's actually a fucking running joke in our team that when you call, I come running." Words and feelings overflowed out of Jungkook's mouth, but he was not close to being done. "And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s actually true, and someone like him throwing that to my face just struck a nerve. He deserved the punch for running his mouth and calling you a bitch, too. Y/N, if you've heard the names he's called you, comments he made—"

"I don't care about that, Jungkook," you interrupt. One moment, you're in bliss, and now you've been hit with an accusation. "I don't care if he calls me a bitch or paints me however he wants. It's you I care about. I worry that one day, he manages to push you to your breaking point, and you do something that kicks you off the team." You feel like a bubble filled with emotions burst inside you, leaving you conflicted with what you feel. You're angry at Jackson, but also, if you think Jungkook is saying what he is saying, then half of you blooms in hope, but the other wilts at the revelation that he said it like he resents what he's feeling.

“So, do you resent me? For, I don't know, calling you? Wanting to be with you? Being friends with you?" The last question left your lips in a murmur. You've ranked low in competitions before, but you've never looked as defeated as you do now. To make it worse, you stand pathetic in front of Jungkook.

“I’m not saying that," Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. "I’ve been in love with you, Y/N,” he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud.

Jungkook imagined his confession to be far from this wreckage. This moment was the polar opposite of how he wanted it to go, but the words flurry out of his mouth before he could think of them. “I love you, but you’re always too hung up on every new guy that comes along to even see me…” he swallows the sob rising in his throat. “Sometimes I wonder if you keep me as a placeholder until a new guy comes.”

“A placeholder?” You're horrified. Jungkook's breaking your heart, and the thought that you apparently broke his shatters the pieces further.

“Aren’t I? When Jackson joined our team, all he had to do was wink and throw a cheesy line at you, and you’re all about him. And now Jimin—”

“Jimin?” Now, you're confused.

“Yes, Jimin. All he had to do was skate with you, and suddenly, I’m on the backburner.”

“Jungkook, where is this coming from? You’re making me out as someone who’s never been a friend to you.”

“Oh, you’ve been a friend, alright. But you can’t deny you’ve strung me up all along. Sometimes I wonder if you knew how I feel and you—”

“Stop," you plead. "Oh god, Jungkook, stop talking, please.” The tears you were holding back now freefall to your cheeks. “All this time, this is how you felt. You have been resenting me—"

"That's not what I'm saying! Do you not understand me?" Jungkook grows frustrated.

“No, I understand, Jungkook. Perfectly. I understand I’ve been selfish, teetering between wanting to keep you close to me and keeping you at a distance to protect myself." You don't want to invalidate his feelings, but he also needs to know where you're at. Thousands of thoughts are drowning you, and you're nowhere close to navigating your feelings; you're still conflicted and lost. But most of all, afraid. Will you lose Jungkook now? It frightens you that one wrong decision could crash your friendship beyond fixable. "But Jungkook, I’ve never seen you as someone I can set aside for anyone else because you’ve always been the first person I look for and reach out to. Even when I always thought you were so close yet so far to me, but still I—"

A knock pops the bubble you’re in. Rushing to wipe your cheeks dry, the door swings open to a clueless and shocked Jimin, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Shit, sorry," Jimin fidgets between wanting to close the door and leave but decides he'd rather not get in trouble, so with eyes on the floor, he calls for you.

"Coach is going ballistic looking for you, Y/N. And him, too. I mean, their coach is looking for him. He heard of the fight.”

More worry rushes to you. You try hard to stay afloat and level-headed, but you're sinking and sinking. “Right,” you clear your throat. “We were just cleaning up. We’re done here anyway.”

Once again, you feel claustrophobic. You need to leave. You don't trust yourself to make any decision in the state you're in. The last time you made a decision from what you were feeling, you made a selfish proposal to Jungkook. And look where that's gotten you now. You can't think, so you rush to leave the room, folding your arms before Jungkook can grab your wrist.

“Wait, Y/N—”

You linger briefly at the door, just enough so he can catch the defeated words that you speak, “We’re done, Jungkook.”

-

Come Doused In Mud

[contortionist!jimin x reader] [3.1k+ smut, yandere, ‼️ nonconsensual/dubious con sex, kidnapping, allusion to drugs, dark themes] This is the next and final part of Come As You Are. Thank you to everyone who gave this fic a chance and read it. Love u!

-

"I'm telling you, it was really weird, Tae," you complain to your friend as you pull him out of the tent—away from the show, away from the creepy man. "He was staring the whole time, and I couldn't break away, but I wanted to."

Taehyung chuckles, strangely finding amusement in what you are saying. "It was probably an act—fixate on one of the audience. Either way, these shows, they're all smoke and mirrors. We came here to have fun, yes?"

Your nerves were still buzzing with unease. Taehyung sees you close off and offers you his drink to appease you while his thumb circles your knuckles in an attempt to ground you. "We should at least go on a few rides," he suggests. "And while we go around, I'll make sure to protect you from creepy contortionists." Your friend makes a big show of puffing out his chest. His obvious gleaming mood is a huge contrast to yours. It almost doesn't bother you that despite your attempt to convey your discomfort, he had been too consumed with his high from the show.

But you realize you like him like this. You like that you're someone whose company he enjoys, and he's comfortable enough with you to let loose and be childish.

With a newfound determination to keep that boxy grin on Taehyung's face, you nod and agree to stay a little longer—go on a ride of his choice and maybe go back to the burger stand you skipped last week.

Also, if you allow yourself to be deluded, you can pretend you were out on a date with him. Tonight could be a fleeting glimpse of what it means to be like a couple. And here, you were in your own bubble with Taehyung. It truly felt like bliss, minus the creepy show you just witnessed.

“Come on," Taehyung tugs at your intertwined hands, pulling you out of your inner monologue. "Let’s see what’s there.” His free hand points to a mirror maze while he swings both your arms as he leads you to the labyrinth.

-

“Are we supposed to do something here?” You and Taehyung walk deeper into the center of the maze and as you go further, the light dims. "I mean, what's the point?"

Taehung shrugs in response. “The man said there was a prize in the middle of the maze.” His head turns left and right, hands still clasped together as he leads you through the maze.

You stop walking as you encounter another crossroad, the endless mirrors on each end and lack of light making you dizzy and nauseous. Not to mention that the longer you've been in the maze, with each passing second, your lulled anxiety resurges.

A shudder runs through you, and you can't help but feel the weight of unseen gazes following you and Taehyung. Reaching for Taehyung's hand, you pull him to take the lead. "Come on, Tae," your voice strained with anxiety. "In rigged games like this, left is always the shortest path to the exit, I'm sure of it."

Taehyung, on the other hand, wanted to take in everything. For some reason, he remained unbothered by your growing unease. Usually, he was good at sensing and reading you, but today, he remained partly oblivious. "What's the rush?" He tugs his limbs back, hands gripping yours tighter. "Come on, Y/N. I think we should go right. It could be fun."

"What fun can you have here?" You reason, free hand gesturing to the dingy mirrors and dusty panels.

Great. Not only do you feel nauseous, but you're pretty sure you now feel an oncoming migraine.

Your disagreement echoed off the mirrors, each reasoning bouncing back and forth. You were now growing frustrated. Meanwhile, Taehyung looked unperturbed, excited even—fueled by adrenaline and his 'sense of adventure'.

“Okay, you know what? Why don’t we split, and we'll just meet outside after,” he proposes.

It was a compromise. Sure. But if you were honest, you were also scared of walking alone. You look at Taehyung one last time, hoping he takes pity on you, but he remains unmoved. With a resigned sigh, you agree with a nod. Taehyung lets you walk your way first, and when you disappear from his sight after taking another turn, he takes his.

-

Frustration gnawed at your insides as you tried to jump and peek through the panels and mirrors, attempting to catch a glimpse of Taehyung or anything that would get you the fuck out of here. Yet, somehow, as the sun sets outside, the place only seemed to grow darker as nothingness bounced off of each surface.

As if to mock you, the dull fluorescent overhead began to flicker erratically, the flashing lights and shadows worsening your migraine and fueling your paranoia.

You really needed to get out of here. Now.

Screaming Taehyung's name, tears start to well up in your eyes. The weight of isolation began to sink into you, and your breaths came in shallow gasps as fear tightened its grip around you.

Oh god. Not now.

You feel around your pockets for your phone and curse when your hands come empty. Remembering you forgot to take your phone from Taehyung, you curse at everything around you—fuck this maze, fuck your jeans for having tiny pockets. Fuck everything. Your vision blurs as you let a sob out.

Looking up, you're met with your reflection. And you could not shake the unnerving sensation that someone—or something—else lurked just beyond your reflection. Mustering up your courage, you resume navigating around the mirror maze with hesitant steps. Suddenly, you hit your face in a mirror from abruptly turning around at the sight of a passing figure from your peripheral vision. You let out a pained groan, your hands shooting up to hold your assaulted nose.

Fuck.

“Tae, is that you?” You wince, eyes squinting, trying to make out your friend's face in the dim room.

"Tae, come on. You're not being funny. I'm really creeped out."

A minute of silence passed before you were answered. “Your friend is gone,” the voice singsongs.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. Okay, it's not Taehyung. But you refuse to think of the worst yet. Maybe this person can help you out. You clear your throat and address the man, “Hi, do you work here?” Feeling your way through mirrors, not wanting to slam your face again, you carefully feel your way around the maze. You’re not even sure if you’re walking closer to a mirrored image or the man himself.

“Could you please show me the way out? I think I broke my nose.” Though you don’t really think your nose is broken, you just hope he would feel sorry for you. And not to point fingers, but you getting hurt was partly his fault for appearing out of nowhere.

A light from outside pierces and bounces through the mirrors, briefly illuminating the place brighter, allowing you to get a quick glimpse of the man.

You freeze at the familiar face you're confronted with. The performer, contortionist, the man from the show earlier was already looking at you when your eyes found his. It wasn’t like a perchance glance like yours but more of a fixed glare. As if he knew exactly where you stood.

You stop shuffling within the space, hands getting clammy, and the room closes in on you. You don't know where to move, but you need to distance yourself from this man.

The shrieking laughter of a child running outside the tent breaks the eerie silence, and your head turns towards the noise. Resigning to the fact that no one could help you, especially this man, you try to follow the sound of mixed chatters and fanfare.

Heart pounding in your chest, you picked up your heavy feet forward. But with every turn you took, every corridor you rushed towards, you found yourself face to face with yet another dead end.

You refuse to give up.

You screamed Taehyung's name again, shrieked for help, and made any noise that would alarm anyone outside.

You will get out of here.

Hearing another laugh from outside, you turn to the source and run with desperation.

Your view turns dark as the bulb completely burns out. You could no longer see anything. As if the entrance to the maze disappeared into the dark. Immobilized by fear, all you could do was crouch. You'll fucking crawl your way out of here if you have to. You're pawing at the dry grass and dirt, telling yourself to put aside your disgust. You.have.to.get.out.of.here.

Then, just as you think you're making progress in the right direction, your fingers freeze upon feeling something unexpected—a sudden, jarring sensation freezes you in place. You recoiled instinctively, heart pounding in your chest as you realized what you had touched.

A foot.

The realization added a surge of fear coursing through your veins, your mind racing with a thousand terrifying possibilities. Again, you refuse to jump to the worst possibility.

No.

Not long after, you feel a warm breath ghost across your face, followed by a soft voice. "There you are."

It sounded so mellow, as if harmless. But your gut tells you it's anything but that. You feel a pair of rough hands hoist you up by your underarms. You squeal like caged piglets and fight against the person holding you. But before you can scream bloody murder, a striking force knocks you out.

-

Blinking against the harsh stream of light that flooded your vision, you turn sideways to make sense of your surroundings.

"Tae," you mumble—mouth dry and voice hoarse. You feel drilling in your head and your right eye twitches from the prickling pain.

Finally adjusting to the light, you find yourself lying in an unfamiliar room. The first thing you clearly see is the bright bedding draped on you, then a wall adorned with photographs. You force your eyes to make sense of the images, and you regret it. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the images of you.

Each snapshot was supposed to be a happy memory of you and Taehyung from your first visit to the carnival. But now, you feel repulsed at the immortalized moment, knowing that behind the lights and festivity, darkness lurked. Just as your gut tried to warn you.

You start to wail. And your cries for help grow louder as you realize your hands are chained to the bedpost.

Someone comes closer to you. He plops himself beside you to the bed, demanding your attention. His eyes are alight with a strange mixture of intensity and malice. "Welcome home, Y/N," he smiled. The man reached out a hand, brushing your hair with his fingers. You flinch from his touch and struggle against the restraints.

It takes a minute for your wailing to turn to sensible words. "Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?"

But as you wait for an answer, all you are greeted with is a chilling calmness that you don't share. "Please," you beg.

He remains silent. His fingers still playing with your hair. "Don't you remember me? It's me, Jimin," he introduces himself with a smile.

You thrash around, wanting to mess up his pristine bed, anything that would show him you were against being here.

"Y/N," he calls your name, his voice still calm. Your response is a hard glare. You would curse at him, but you don't trust your voice not to break or turn to sobs again.

"Don't cry, baby." His hands leave your hair to thumb at your creased forehead. "Ever since I saw you, I knew it was you; it had to be you," his words dripping with an unsettling mix of obsession and conviction, "my soulmate."

"You're fucking crazy," you spit your words out; raspy but determined. Disliking your accusation, you stare at you until you shift from discomfort. The weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

"You shouldn't resist, my dear," he deadpans. "We're bound by the red string of fate, tethered together, forever." His face closes in yours and noses at your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he resumed talking.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a sinister hiss. "The tug of that thread when you first set foot into my carnival, my home. You cannot deny it any longer."

Your pulse raced with terror as you struggled to comprehend the depth of his delusion. You tried to speak, to protest, but your words were caught in your throat like a knot, choking off any plea, even curse and demeaning words you wanted to shout at him.

How the fuck are you supposed to reason with a crazy man?

Jimin's fingers trail along the curve of your shoulders. "You are finally home, my dear," he murmurs, his touch sending a wave of revulsion coursing through your veins. But you couldn't do anything but take it.

He presses a peck to your cheek. Sensing no movement from you, he slots his lips to yours.

At this, you react violently, your body thrashing to move as far away as you can from him. Your balled fists swing to his face but fall limp, and your feet locked in place tight; you couldn't even push yourself further away from the man.

"Get the fuck away from me," you screech. Guttural screams leave your mouth as you tug at the binds on your limbs.

"Tsk, you're making this difficult, Y/N." He secures your ties, the binds getting tighter, leaving your arms and legs completely immobile.

"I'll show you how good I can be for you, my dear."

-

"Please," you sob, "Please, enough," the last plea comes out as a moan.

Jimin continuously laps at your cunt, his head locked between your trembling thighs. You twist and turn your body to repel him, but Jimin's head only tilts to look at you. His eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat as you are drawn into the depths of his dilated pupils.

Tingles run on Jimin's back, and if possible, his dick stiffens even more. He's exhilarated as he saw a reflection of his own desire mirrored—a passion so intense it threatened to consume you both. Finally.

He knew you were loving this. He knew he was going to have you. And he thinks he already has.

Unable to tear his gaze away, Jimin feels you gradually surrender to the irresistible pull of his hunger. Your defenses dissolved easily like the cotton candy you loved to wrap your tongue around. Arousal spurts from his cock at the thought of having your sweet tongue wrapped around him. Like cotton candy.

He dives back between your thighs and grazes his teeth to your nub. With his fingers prodding inside you in a come-hither motion, you come undone again for the third time. You're full-on panting as you regulate your breathing. Jimin kneels, and your eyes follow him. He was a sinful delight—lips glistening with your arousal, cheeks flushed, and his cock stands tall and weepy.

He notices your lidded eyes as you stare at his cock and chuckles. "Don't worry. I'll let you feel me sooner than later," he cajoles.

You couldn't find your sanity. You should be resisting, screaming, doing anything to make this difficult for him, but your body just resigns—pliant, submissive to his. You hesitantly bend your knees as far as your bounds let you and ready yourself for him.

With one swooping motion, Jimin leans closer to your body and lines his hard cock to your pussy. You moan in unison as he sinks his tip inside you. His other hand caressed your cheek, and you surprised yourself further as you leaned in. At this, Jimin smiles and smashes his lips to yours. Your mouth locks in a heated, hungry kiss.

Letting his love pour from every pore and hole, Jimin pushes his shaft inside you. The feeling of his bare cock and thick girth pulls an animalistic reaction from you—your nails indent his flawless skin, and your teeth sink to his shoulder, devouring him in all ways. Jimin's hand cups your ass to pull you towards his thrusting hips, his hunger for you never-ending.

And finally, he thinks, you've surrendered to your need for him as well.

A sigh leaves his lips as you move your grip from his back to brush through his hair. He trails kisses along your neck going to your collarbones, each peck turning into love bites. You whimper at the sting, and your lover grows feral at the melodies of your pleasure.

If possible, he would weld you two together like this—forever tangled in euphoria and pleasure. Jimin's hand dips between your compressed bodies, fingers traveling from your tits, taking his time tracing patterns on every skin he touches until he reaches his destination—your clit. His eyes stay on your face as he watches your face contort in pleasure to every flick and motion of his fingers to your pussy.

You stare back, as if beckoning him to cum with you. And so he does.

Your body trembles like aftershocks, and Jimin feels his cock protest in sensitivity.

This is wrong, you think as you have your arms wrapped around your captor. But letting him have his way with you, somehow felt right. This felt like home.

-

Jimin watches you slumber. His index finger softly traces the slope of your nose. "My beautiful Y/N."

He secures your wrist to the bedpost once again after making love to you. He couldn't risk it yet. Sure, you were no longer screaming at his face, but it's too early, he decides. You've been with him for a week now, and in those seven days, you’ve done nothing but fuck.

A patterned knock pulls his gaze from you.

About damn time.

Jimin opens the door to a grinning man. "Took you long enough," he sneers.

His friend only huffs, "Well, excuse you. I had to deal with the missing reports. Her friends are fucking persistent, and I had to play my part."

"Well, is it dealt with?" Jimin pours water for him and his visitor.

"It's not hitting the local news yet, but I feel like it will die down in a few days." His guest waves off the offered water. "You and I know what could be in that water."

Jimin scoffs. "Why the fuck would I want you passed out in my home." The man across from him just shrugs in response, then says his goodbye.

"Hey, Taehyung," your so-called friend raises his brows, awaiting Jimin's next words, "Thanks for the help with Y/N. I owe you one."

Taehyung only wiggles his eyebrows. He chances a look over Jimin's shoulders to peek at you lying on the bed across the room, then pulls the door close as he leaves.

-

Exploration No. 5

[namjoon x reader] [1k+ strangers to lovers?, fluff] A/N: This is loosely based on Reese Lansangan's Exploration No. 5. Whenever I listen to the song, I think the line "Hey, what's your favorite crustacean?" was written for Namjoon. Or the entire song might as well have been. Also, I just really miss him. I miss BTS.

-

You hated school excursions, but you think you can make an exception for this particular trip if your museum guide is this cute.

-

For most of the tour, you were spacing out. Walking past exhibits, mindlessly taking photos of artifacts you may or may not use as a reference to your sketches. It's not like you didn't like museums, you actually enjoyed them. But on your own time.

"Y/N, look," Jungkook calls for your attention, imitating the posture of a taxidermized creature.

"Cute," you reply dryly. "Ya!" You hear as you walk away, not in the mood for one of his shenanigans.

You were passing by a group gathered under the fossilized crustaceans exhibit when the guide, passionately explaining an in-depth history of crustaceans, caught your eye.

The museum wasn't exactly short of cute guys, but call it fate or whatever you want, but something had you glued to where you stood, a few steps away from him. And it's not like you stayed to gawk at the guy, you were genuinely growing interested and curiouser and curiouser with each discussion.

"So, any questions?" The cute guy asks. Cue crickets and tumbleweeds passing. "Right. Thanks for—"

"Is it true lobsters pair and mate for life?" You dumbly ask. Of all the questions you could ask.

Seeming shocked someone asked a question, Namjoon searches for the source of the voice.

Your eyes meet.

"Ah well, miss…"

"Y/N. Just Y/N"

"Just Y/N," he smirks, "I hate to be the breaker of bad news, but by nature, lobsters are not exactly monogamous. A male lobster would most likely mate with multiple females during encounters lasting days to weeks. So no, lobsters don't pair and mate for life." He clarifies with a smile.

Just when you thought he couldn't be more adorable, you're proven wrong with those dimples.

"Ah, I see," you return with a smile, "Bummer."

"But there are other sea creatures that stick to one when they find their pair; we have angelfishes, sea otters, even some species of seahorses," he ends with a soft laugh.

Fuck, he's really adorable. "Oh, cute," clearing your throat, "I meant the angelfishes, and the uhm..” You let out a half wheeze, half laugh noise.

Now he’s staring with mirthful eyes.

“I was saying it’s cute that there are species that, uhm, that are like, you know, monogamous. Sticks to one; ride-or-die couples, I guess." Great, you're now rambling.

And your group seemed to have moved on to the next exhibit.

Reluctant to leave but unsure how to continue the conversation, he picks it up for you and asks, "Did you get that 'fact' from friends?"

"Huh?"

"The one about the lobster. I presume you watched the series and got it from there."

Now you're embarrassed. "Heh, I did. Kind of embarrassed now to admit that I believed it for years," you titter, "have you watched the show, too?"

He hums in reply. And as he walks further to the fossil aisle, you follow. "My mom bought me all ten DVDs, and from that, I learned to speak English better," he continues. You laugh, thinking it was a joke until you chance another look at him.

"Oh, you're serious." Another smile, then he nods. "So, do you think you're more of a Joey, Chandler, or Ross?"

Now it's his turn to look at you. "Humor me," you continue.

"I guess I'm a bit like Chandler. I see myself relating to his character." You let a beat pass before shamelessly replying, "I bet you don't have much trouble getting girls, though."

At that, he loudly laughs, a few students turning to look in your direction.

Oh, you'd gladly lamely flirt with him in exchange for his amusement.

"That's actually the bit that I relate to. Aside from classes and this internship here at the museum, it's not every day I meet cute girls who would want to talk to me. But today must be my lucky day."

Again, he smirks. He definitely knows how it affects you, too. You blush. And if possible, melt. You don't think you can even look at him, so you turn to face the artifacts. You actually dare to be bashful now when you fired the first flirty remark.

Mouth still stretched to a grin, you turn to face him. "You must think you're charming, huh?"

"Well, I'm assuming if I struck your fancy, at least a little bit." You like the creases by his eyes when he smiles, you think.

"Okay, you did. And you are."

Like a still-frame from a film, you're stood in the middle of the museum, heart eyes staring at each other.

You were the first to break away.

You are about to ask him another question when your professor announces it's time to leave for your next museum destination.

"Ah, I guess you have to go now," he nods towards the corner where students start to gather. You turn to look and agree with a nod, hiding your disappointment.

You try to stall. Just a bit. You gather all the bits of courage you have, "I know this is a bit too direct, but—" You're cut off, "Y/N, come on, we gotta go." Jungkook calls for you.

You huff, "Yea, just a minute. I'm right behind you." You stare him down until he goes ahead without you. And he does, but not before glancing at Namjoon.

You look back at Namjoon to see him expectantly looking at you, "Uhm, so thanks for the fact-check.." You trail off as he nods. Your courage was quick to leave you, and with that, you accept defeat.

But as if your fallen confidence were caught by your feet, you were merely a few steps away when you walk back to him, "Hey, what's your favorite crustacean?"

Startled by the question, Namjoon stutters a reply, "What?" He sees you shift in your feet, "Well, I mean, there are a lot, and I guess there's—"

"Can you tell me through text?" You attempt to steel your nerves once again. You can let embarrassment consume you after you leave the museum, but now, you want to shoot your shot.

He laughs and looks at your leaving party, "I guess I can do that since we're pressed for time." He takes your phone to call his, long fingers quickly types in his name before you hear Jungkook call for you again across the gallery.

"Thanks," you see his saved contact and smile, "Joon."

He smiles back with a nod.

Ah. There's that killer smile. You want to dip your finger in those dimples, you think.

You hold back your intrusive thoughts and rush to your friends.

Unbeknownst to you, Namjoon’s stupefied, in a good way. And as he watches you catch up to your group, you turn around and wave goodbye. He returns the gesture.

-

Sat at the bus and enthused, you send Namjoon a message.

"Hey, tell me again, what's your favorite crustacean?"

Orbiting: pt.5

: pt.1° | pt.2° - pt.2,5° | pt.3° | pt.4°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [3.5k smut: ‼️ choking kink, angst, fluff—I think everything's in here] Thank you to everyone who followed and read this fic! I think I tried to fit as much as I could in this chapter to wrap it up, while trying to be consistent with the plot despite cutting it to fewer chapters. Still, here's to an enjoyable read for you guys! Hot off the press, so it's not proofread.

-

The cold air hangs heavy in the rink as you glide across the ice with Jimin. You move in perfect synchrony, your movements fluid and graceful.

For a minute.

Then, you're back to stumbling over your own feet and disrupting the routine. Jimin manages to steady you, but the exhaustion is evident on his face. You offer a sheepish apology and look back to your coach. A stern expression on her face.

"Y/N, focus! We can't afford to keep making these mistakes." She follows you and Jimin skate in a circle by the sidelines. You nod to acknowledge her, and you let your sight wander to the stands, hoping to see Jungkook sitting at one of the seats.

But you only see vacant bleachers. Suddenly, the argument from earlier sits heavier on your heart.

You miss Jimin's cue for a lift and his hold on you slips before you can even secure the move. You fell mid-lift, and Jimin lost his balance, his feet crossing to regain his footing, but it was too late. He pulls you into him as he uses his own body to break your fall. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as your mind tried to catch up on what had just happened.

"Fucking fuck," Jimin groans below you, clearly in pain and struggling to breathe.

Your coach rushes onto the ice, her expression a mixture of concern and frustration. She knelt beside your crumpled forms, assessing the situation with a practiced eye before calling for an ambulance.

"Jimin, are you okay?" Her attention was on your partner, as it should be, but you wince at her dismissal of you. This was clearly your fault. You knew that the failed lift was a result of your carelessness and lack of focus. With a strained voice, you apologize to Jimin.

He only shook his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and concern. It must have been pity from seeing you hold your shoulder that he assures you. "Accidents happen, Y/N. Don't worry."

"We need to make sure you're both alright. Let's get you off the ice and check for any injuries." Mrs. Jeon helps you both to your feet. Her attention remains on Jimin.

As you retreat from the rink, the guilt and feeling of defeat dawns on you. And you wish you had Jungkook to cheer you up.

-

The hospital hallway was quiet; the only sound was the soft shuffle of your footsteps as you made your way to Jimin's room. You carried a box of chicken in your hand, a small gesture of apology for the accident that had landed him here.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you approached the door. You hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to knock gently.

The door creaked open, revealing Jimin lying in bed, his face pale but his eyes brightening at the sight of you.

"Hi," you croak out. "I brought you chicken." You wave the box as you step into the room.

"Ah, finally! I've been starving." Jimin sits up and pulls the table so you can place the food directly in front of him. He smiles at you as thanks.

"You're staying, right? I'm hungry, but there's no way I can eat all of these by myself." You agree and watch him take his first bite. Genuinely laughing at his exaggerated bit of enjoying the chicken.

Jimin moves and gestures for you to sit beside him. And you do.

You grind your teeth, thinking about how to start your apology speech when he beats you to talking.

"I feel like I need to tell you this," Jimin holds your hand, his tone serious, and in turn, you face him to show you're listening. "We're a team, Y/N. When one of us makes a mistake, we both learn from it to be better."

Your eyes brim with tears, touched by Jimin's understanding. He was the one in pain, and yet he's the one making you feel better.

"I'm so sorry, Jimin," you hiccup. "I promise I'll do better."

He squeezes your folded hands in his—the touch a comforting reassurance. You were about to dig in for a chicken wing when the door to Jimin's room swung open.

Your eyes widen at the sight of a sweaty Jungkook.

"Oh, Jungkook?" Jimin's head pops out from your side. Your position and intertwined hands are not lost on you.

And obviously this is what Jungkook only sees.

"Are you—" "Gguk, it's not—" "Sorry, I must be—" All three of you rush out words from your mouths. The sound was a garbled mess of someone talking over someone. Everyone wanting to be heard first.

Jungkook clears his throat. "Sorry, I must be in the wrong room," he rushes and slams the door close.

Breaking Jimin's grip on yours, you clear your throat. Jimin looks at you with a sly smile.

"What?" Your tone is defensive, and your eyes elude his stare.

"Aren't you going after him?" Jimin resumes eating his chicken, and strangely, he still holds that sly look on his face. You excuse yourself, and he only responds with a nod, his mouth clearly busy tearing up the chicken leg.

-

Jungkook storms down the hallway, his jaw tense, and hands clenched into fists at his sides. Behind him, you call his name desperately.

"Jungkook, please, will you wait," you shout. You managed to capture the attention of a couple of nurses, but Jungkook keeps speedwalking out of the hospital. You try to match his long strides and quicken your pace to reach him but fall short.

You can only watch Jungkook as he drives away. And your heart falls to your stomach at the thought that he left for good.

-

You re-enter Jimin's room and see that he's made himself comfortable—bed reclined, a sitcom playing on the television, and he seems to be on his third chicken leg. He's laughing at a stupid scene and turns to point it out to you but stops as he sees you standing by his door, on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Y/N. Everything okay?"

At his question, your dam breaks. You rack out sobs, and your shoulders shake. Jimin feels helpless as he can't stand, instead, he beckons you to come closer.

-

“We’ve been friends for so long, and now, I wonder if we just feel this way because we’ve been together for years. Hell, I survived his snarky exes as he did mine." You chuckle at the memory of 'dealing' with Jungkook's girlfriends. You had the decency to step away from Jungkook when he started dating someone, albeit it hurts. You genuinely wanted Jungkook to be happy in a relationship. But after a few days, it's Jungkook who seeks you out. Inviting you during lunch dates, saying he just wanted his best girls to get along. Somehow, that struck a bad nerve to every girl he was dating at the time.

"What if we find out we’re not better as friends and couldn’t return to how we are?”

“Ah. And how exactly are you now?” Jimin teases.

You didn't know. You both just keep walking out on each other. Obviously, it was your emotions that drove you to these actions. You would argue that you were both reasonable and sensible people, but now you see how every time you were together, all your actions were, perhaps, dramatic and careless.

You sigh. “You know he’s jealous of you?” Your lips curve into a borderline smile and grimace as you look at Jimin. If you were in a better mood, you would find amusement in Jungkook's misplaced jealousy, but right now, what lurks in your mind is the accusation that he thinks you never saw him more than a friend when every day since he drew a bug tattoo on his arm and swore he'll get it permanently so he can have something to remember you by, you started to love him differently. You started to see him as someone you would want to be with every day, so he'll never need something to remember you by because you'll always be beside him.

A chortle from Jimin breaks your reminiscing. “I guess he still remembers me then.” You turn to look at him, brows knitted with confusion, waiting for him to explain what he meant. Jimin takes his time drinking his water before looking at you. His eyes sparkle with mirth and seriousness as if what he’s about to say is something controversial.

“Remember the National Solo Dance in Cape Cod?" You shake your head, still confused about where he's leading with this. "In 2013? This isn’t the first time we’re meeting, Y/N. I mean, at least not for me. You were still skating solo, and I watched your routine. I was in awe at you then, and I wanted to meet you, introduce myself.”

The memory brings a childlike smile to Jimin’s face. “Anyway, cut to the end, everyone was throwing flowers and stuffed ladybugs on the rink, but I wanted to hand you the daisy I held personally. I was waiting by the bleachers when your best friend stood next to me. He must’ve thought I was one of the sweepers, and so he told me he would do it instead. It was ironic since I thought he was also there to pick up your gifts, so I told him I was waiting for you."

"God, I was smitten with how you moved; even as you were bowing, my eyes stayed on you. Jungkook must have seen the infatuated grin I had as you were approaching. I mean, he should know that look; the man had it plastered on his face, too."

"He tried to subtly block you from my view. I tried to squeeze myself in front, but when I saw him hug you, and not just in a friendly way, I knew he wasn’t there to pick up shit.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that day,” you murmur. "I don't remember you, though," you quip with a giggle.

“Of course you wouldn't. Jeon Jungkook made sure you never saw me that day," Jimin scoffed. "Since then, I assumed he was your boyfriend. So, I took a step back. Handed the daisy to the sweeper and admired you from afar." He ends his story with a boop to your nose. Much like how an endearing parent does to a child.

Obviously, this was new information to you. When you think back to that day, you never picked up on Jungkook's action. Though you try not to let it show, you were exhilarated at the thought that maybe Jungkook did really love you since then.

Just like what he said.

Jimin has only known you for a few months, but he can already tell when the cogs in your brain are working overtime. And so, he subtly helps you out one last time.

“Y/N, it’s none of my business, and I don’t know you guys that well yet, so I could be wrong, but take my advice or leave it—you have to give Jungkook more credit. I believe the guy has always been sure of how he feels for you. And if what you just said now is also true, then I think you're trading something great for something even better—the best, even."

Gulping air as you take in Jimin's words, your head bobs in agreement. The thought of walking out and leaving Jungkook hurt tugs at your heart harshly. You see Jimin reach out for a tissue, and just when your hands accept it, he wipes his lips before confronting you with more truth.

“He’s been waiting and choosing you since then. It's your turn to choose him now.”

You huff, eyes rolling but you knew Jimin was right. And so, you thank Jimin and leave to look for Jungkook.

-

Your initial plan was to rehearse what you were going to tell Jungkook during your drive to the rink. But as you stand in front of the entrance doors, you're hit with the realization that you hadn't done anything but reminisce about the good old days where you were just best friends.

Just.Best.Friends.

You hated yourself for putting the limiting word—just, beside your friendship.

You let your hand fall from the door handle.

You were being selfish, you think. You both were. You have been friends for years, and in those years, you were great.

When you were best friends, you cried, laughed, and even fought with each other, and still found your way back. Asking to be more than what you have right now is being selfish.

Part of you echoes Jimin's words 'something great for something even better'.

Still, if you go beyond the lines of your friendship with Jungkook, you fear the possibility of irreparable damage in the future. What if you do argue as a couple? Will forgiveness come as easy when you're friends?

Sure. You're tempted with the pride of finally calling himself your boyfriend. Even just thinking about it makes you feel giddy—calling him yours, not because you own him, but he's yours to love and to care for without the pretense. No more pretending to be annoyed everything he asks you to watch his game, instead you can stand proudly on the bleachers, wearing his jersey and cheering him on. You can invite him to your practices without overthinking and the fear of his mother seeing through your masked feelings.

You recoil as the door aggressively opens, the hinges squeaking. But the sight of Jungkook in front of you cancels out the unpleasant sensation in your ear.

"Y/N?" Curious eyes zigzag on your face. "Shouldn't you be in the hospital keeping Park company?" Jungkook walks past you, leaving you just a bit wounded. Your initial reaction was to defend yourself, but decide to act against it. You take a deep breath, as if refueling your courage patience, and follow him.

"I need to apologize to you," your words coming out stuttered and shaky. Hearing this, Jungkook stops to face you. It was like a switch flicked inside him. His face softened, his pettiness giving way to concern. He walks back to you, his shoulders no longer squared up and tense.

"Y/N, you have nothing to be sorry about." Jungkook's lips curve into a warm, reassuring smile. But his eyes stay downcast.

Guilt settles in your gut. Were you at fault for taking away the glimmer in his eyes? Your wait for his eyes to meet yours and when he does, he forces out another smile.

But you know him better.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips at the bittersweet realization that Jungkook's heavy heart could be sinking to the floor and yet he would always set aside how he feels to make sure you're fine. But it is with that realization that brings you to a clear decision.

You look down and lay your palm flat on his chest. You might break if you keep his gaze, and so, you think the best thing to face as you confess was his chest—forget how hard his pecs feel in your hand—rather, this is where his heart is.

"Just listen, please," you plead. You still struggle to find the right words. Was it even possible to put into words the love that grew inside you for your best friend? You were used to acting out how you felt. You believed you already bared your feelings to Jungkook through your caring actions. But maybe, just maybe, you fucked up by failing to pick up that Jungkook needs words. He needs you to tell him how you feel.

He needs clarity. And so do you.

Here goes your everything.

"I shouldn't have walked out on you. But in that moment, everything overwhelmed me and I just couldn’t keep up. One minute I was sucking you off and the next thing I knew you were telling me you loved me and—”

“Love,” Jungkook corrects, cutting you off.

“What?” Your head quickly tilts to look up at him and just so you wouldn't avoid his gaze again, he holds up your chin with this forefinger.

“I love you, Y/N, I always have," he clarifies. "And it's a different, stronger love than being friends. But if you don’t feel the same, or you’re not in the same place as I am, I’m fine with that but will you please just let me know?”

Oh, Jungkook.

"What if we try and it ruins everything?" You hiccup. "If it ruins us and I lose you forever. Jungkook, I don't think I—"

“You’re never gonna lose me." He cuts you off again. "Look, I’m not pushing you to make a decision, I just need you to be honest with me."

You sniffle as he wipes the tears cascading from your eyes with his sleeves. “Whatever you decide, I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Jungkook yet again assures you.

You lean your forehead to his and take a deep breath. Unexpectedly, a soft laugh escapes your lips. But before Jungkook can assume you were laughing at him or were going insane, you were quick to chase those assumptions away.

"If you would have let me finish, I would have told you I love you, too."

"You do?" he stuttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart.

And his.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. It might be your eyes wetting with tears of happiness, but you think you see the light in Jungkook's eyes come back. "I've felt this way for so long, but I didn't want to risk our friendship. I was scared that maybe I was asking for too much."

Jungkook tilts his head and his hands rub your arms, whether it was to comfort you or him, it didn't matter. "I was scared too, Y/N," he confesses. "I was ready to take anything you could give me as long as I didn't lose you."

The pooled tears in your eyes fall as heavy as the weight of his words. All this time, you had been dancing around each other, too scared to take the leap.

But now you know. He would always catch you and you would do the same for him.

Something great for something even better—the best.

With a sound decision and heart, you call his name.

-

"Jungkook," your lover's name spills out of your mouth in a breathy moan.

Intertwined in each other's arms, your bodies are pressed together in a tender embrace. Your upper bodies are exposed for anyone entering the locker room to see and at first glance, it's arguably a lovely sight to see, but the echoes of slapping skin and groans of pleasure reveals how Jungkook is fucking away your sanity.

The carnal desire you feel with each drag of his cock to your walls is tenfold. Forget that you're in one of the least romantic places to fuck, because somehow, Jungkook's relentless thrusting inside you, as he holds one leg in his arm and the other raised to his shoulders, feels more charged and fulfilling than all the sex you've had before.

It's like both of you are animals in heat who have been let out after being caged for so long.

Not longer than a minute ago, you just came on his tongue and yet, you feel your orgasm creeping up on you again.

He pulls another wanton moan of his name from you as he angles his cock and rams it into you, his tip hitting your cervix. Your body folds in pleasure and he pushes you back with a grip to your throat.

"This okay?" Jungkook drums his finger to your neck as he waits for your answer. His stiff dick continuously penetrating you.

With mouth agape in silent pants, you whisper a yes. You shut your eyes so your senses can focus on the feeling of his limbs on you. His hands on your neck gets tighter as he fucks you harder.

Jungkook is slowly losing himself in you—getting closer to his own peak. His lidded eyes stay on your face, making sure all you feel is him and pleasure—mindful not to hurt you. He ghosts his lips to yours, catching every squeaky breath you let out with his mouth. He's breathing you in. You're submitting yourself to him and so he takes all of it—whatever you're willing to give.

And you're giving him everything—all of you.

You will your eyes to open, and when you do, you see Jungkook—your boyfriend, your lover, yours, yours, yours.

He closes in for a kiss, merging your bodies, from head to toe, as one. And with one last confession of love to each other, you both climax.

-

Jungkook buttons your shirt as you tug and zip his jeans. The room is silent aside from coy giggles and soft smacks, be it from your lips or Jungkook's hand playfully slapping your ass.

As you and Jungkook leave the locker room, he links his hands with yours and sways your arms back and forth, much like he did when you walked home together in grade school.

Except this time, he can leave kisses to your knuckles, and you can let the caged butterflies in your chest flutter all they want.

-

Play It As It Lays

[taehyung x reader] [1.5k smut: mirror sex, creampie, unprotected sex, virgin kink??, really just porn with a lil bit of plot; Taehyung is a famous Cellist who was hired to tutor OC.

Just a self-indulgent fic.

-

People said to never meet your heroes.

You'll be let down, they say.

But you would beg to differ.

And beg, you do.

With your bodies sitting naked on the couch, Taehyung has you facing the mirror and the sight of your petite frame slotted between his bulging naked thighs shoots up your arousal. Your perfectly intertwined limbs could inspire a whole series of shunga artwork.

Calloused hands grip each of your knees and push them wider apart before a hand returns to cup your dripping sex.

"Please," you whine. The words that fell from your swollen lips were almost incomprehensible because of how breathy and timid it sounded.

But that was just one of Kim Taehyung's effect.

The man lives up to his reputation in the Classical music industry—charisma just as alluring as people described and his presence calls for attention, not because he, himself, demands it, rather there is something lingering in his aura that just lures and pulls you into him. And when he looks at you, it's a mixed feeling of intimidation and desire to keep his eyes on you.

And to you, it makes you want to defy him. You itch to see if you can crack that calm and stoic demeanor of his.

Taehyung only hums in response to your plea and you feel his chest rumble on your back. It's close to an hour and yet all he did with his finger was tease you. Everything he has done was all build-up, never the climax.

"You're so delicate." His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you. His body is so close, you hear the wet smacking of his tongue inside his mouth as he speaks. He dips his fingers inside your pussy as he presses his thumb on your nub, leaving you shuddering in pleasure. "And so sensitive. My pretty virgin," he tsks. "You're making a mess, darling."

You mumble out a half-hearted apology to which he snorts at. You struggle to keep your tears at bay. Frustration and defeat are obviously written on your face. If only you knew how to touch yourself, you would've done the job yourself. But no. You can play with yourself all you want, but you've never experienced an orgasm. And none of what Taehyung does to your body now matches the pleasure when you touch yourself.

And so, you remain at his mercy.

It was torture to be teased, but the way Taehyung's arm muscle clenches and your body twitches has your attention stuck to the mirror. It was as if his hand was a bow and your body held the strings that create the most beautiful melodies.

His right hand pushes in and out of you in timed intervals and his left hand grips your neck, arms across your body to hold you close to his. It was oh-so-intimate.

But of course, this was also a way for Taehyung to restrain you.

"Take it," he lectured when your body thrashed around from sensitivity. "The pleasure is tenfold if you endure it. Just like playing the cello—a sublime piece is achieved from laborious and seemingly endless revisions. So, take it."

The growing warmth between you has you both sweating—the smell of sex in the air grows potent by the minute, pushing you further into your shared haze.

You don't mind that all Taehyung does is play with your body. He can do whatever he wants to you for all you care. But you also have this feral need to learn about his body—play with his cock and grip it as tight as you hold your instrument in place between your thighs. You want to hear the sounds he makes as you play with his body. He has been hearing you chant his name with moans and sighs in different pitches; it's his turn to sing.

You focus on Taehyung's hand disappearing and reappearing from your cunt. The velvet couch that carries your bodies is vandalized with your slick and his precum. His hands are truly just as skilled in playing the cello as it is in flitting around your body. You can almost taste it again—your sweet peak.

But you can't come like this. Not yet.

Your hand halts Taehyung's movement, tongue darting to wet your lips, "S-stop," you stutter. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, one eyebrow raising in question. And so, with your senses still muffled with lust, you try your best to answer clearly, "Wanna cum on your cock, sir.”

Your legs wobbled as you changed positions—you're now kneeling on the floor with his thick dick right on your face. You gulp at Taehyung's size but also swallow the pooling drool in your mouth.

You ought to thank your parents for hiring Taehyung to give you private lessons. Albeit this isn't the lesson they had in mind, you personally think this is more… beneficial for you.

Without wasting another second, your hand grips his base to erect his cock and you run your warm tongue from his balls to his slit. The man above you throws his head back as air is expelled from his pretty lips. He leans his body backward, arms propping him up and he sets his eyes on you. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?"

You only respond with a smirk; smug eyes refusing to look away as you make a big show of sucking his tip like it’s the sweetest lollipop.

You're halfway there, you encourage yourself. You want to see the moment you break him.

Mimicking a move you watched on porn, you wet your hands with your slick before returning your hold on Taehyung's dick. With one hand stroking him up and down, your other hand caresses his balls within your palms like two delicate marbles.

Taehyung curses. You were sin incarnated.

Determined to get more from him, you push your head closer to his crotch, deep-throating his cock.

Unexpected and unprepared, Taehyung makes a guttural wail; his arm shoots up to hold you by your hair and his body reflexively sits up and pushes his cock at another deep angle inside your mouth which pulls another moan from the man.

You fight the urge to gag, and your eyes start to flood with tears. You could only claw at Taehyung's thighs.

Taehyung was quick to gather his wits and then chuckled at your state. His hand on your hair moves to cup your face before smudging your mascara as he wipes your tears before they fall.

"Come up," he instructs as he pulls his cock from your mouth. A plop is heard, and a string of your saliva mixed with his precum lingers from your lips. Taehyung's hands take control of your hips—his bruising hold guides you to sink down to his cock until you take all of him, pulling a pained moan from you.

Taehyung is a tight fit, and you fight through the initial discomfort as you move your hips. You teeter between the stinging stretch and warm addicting pleasure.

With a satisfied groan, Taehyung gently guides your head to level your sight with the full-length mirror and holds you in place. "Take a look at yourself. You look as heavenly as you sound," his voice in your ear is so soft and saccharine, you believe him. "And see how well you take me like a good girl," he praises, the tone switching to a little bit strained as your pussy clenches—the pain morphing to lust and desire. His hand goes back to your hips to help you ride his cock. The minimal movement gives you both pleasurable tugs, you can't help but moan.

With his thighs now caged between your own, you momentarily bend down to kiss his knees. Your action has him throwing his head back once again. But his eyes trail down to your curved spine all the way down to your ass perched on his hips.

Deciding that you've adjusted to his cock, Taehyung bounces your hips on his cock. The sight of your arousal creaming around his crotch has him salivating. As much as he wants to lick you clean, he badly needs a release. It's a miracle he lasted almost more than an hour.

You plant your feet on the ground and start moving at your own pace. Each slam of your ass on his thighs reverberated in the room as if cheering you on as you bounced faster and harder on his cock.

A contrast of warmth and shivers washed over your body as Taehyung laid open-mouth kisses on your back. As he reaches your neck, he sucks on the soft flesh to claim you, mark you—so you remember this night which will be the first of many. He promises.

You grab and tug at his hair to pull him toward your puckered lips and he obliges. The echoing sound in the room is no longer just your skin slapping but the smacking sound of your lips as you breathe each other in.

"Sir-r, I-I’m close," you stutter out between kisses amidst overwhelming pleasure. Taehyung meets your thrusts halfway. And as your pace increases, so does the frequency of the moans of the man behind you.

With a powered thrust, your body trembles as you climax. Taehyung follows not long after—your pussy spasming around his dick has him shooting up his cum inside you as he wraps you in his arms.

People who warned you to never meet your heroes, clearly never had the privilege of meeting Kim Taehyung.

-

new fic added! Play It As It Lays

Lights Out, Words Gone | Lights Out, Words Spill - [yoongi x reader][2.4k+ friends to lovers, light angst, smut, fluff] Exploration No. 5 - [namjoon x reader] [1k+ strangers to lovers?, fluff] [TO REWRITE] Now That We Don't Talk - [seokjin x reader, slight hoseok x reader] [1.1k+ mindless drabble, lovers to strangers, angst, suggestive content] Be My Mistake - [jhope x reader] [1.4k smutty angst] Orbiting - 1° | 2° - 2,5° | 3° - 3,5° | 4° | 5° - [jungkook x reader; jimin x reader] [5k+ friends with benefits, childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, literally porn with a little bit of plot] Come As You Are, Doused In Mud - One | Two - [jimin x reader; taehyung x reader] [5k+ smut, yandere, ‼️ strong language and dark themes] Play It As It Lays - [taehyung x reader] [1.5k+ smut]

Bad Omens

[jungkook x reader] [1.8k+ smut, angst; two-part series]

these bad omens, I look right through them, that's what you do when you love somebody

-

The raging buzz you feel collides with the mellow hum of the love song Jungkook has playing on the car stereo.

Each movement you make, a huff and a puff escapes your lips. Your eyes shooting icy daggers at your husband.

Feeling ignored, you pivot your attention to the seemingly endless road home. Your final act was crossing your arms and making sure he hears your snappy and annoyed tsk.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook has been trying really hard to be patient with you. His energy has been drained up to the last drop during the baby shower you attended. When you both said your goodbyes to your friends, he anticipated a calm drive, but no, for some unknown reason, you decided to flip your bitch switch on him.

Spotting a lay-by, Jungkook swerves the car to the side of the road.

"Why are we stopping here?" Your confusion momentarily eclipses your irritation at the sudden stop. The knot in your brows undoing, and for the first time since you left Jin hyung's home, you and your husband make eye contact.

"Well, Y/N," he huffs particularly at the utterance of your name. "I'm not taking you home with that attitude. So, tell me, what's wrong?"

You scoff. Now you're offended, and when you feel this way, you can't help but be petty. All reason and ability to communicate goes out the window.

"You already know what pissed me off." You unbuckle your seatbelt and attempt to get out of the car, ready for a dramatic exit. But as soon as you unlock the car, Jungkook locks your door from his side.

You grunt, fingers pushing the unlock button. Without missing a beat, he locks it again. You groan in annoyance, and Jungkook 'patiently' waits for you to spill what you've been holding back.

You harshly lean yourself on the seat. Defeated and frustrated, you glare at the doe eyes staring at you. "You embarrassed me back there," your simmering rage starts to bubble in your throat as you choke out a sob. Already tearing up at the mere thought of it as you try to articulate your anger. "You told our friends you never have to deal with me getting baby fever because I lack maternal instinct."

You furiously wipe at the tears freefalling from your eyes. "I mean what kind of husband says that about their wife?"

It was quiet for a moment. Too quiet, and you felt uncomfortable being around the person you love and trust the most. You stifled your sniffles.

Across from you, Jungkook looked like a fish coming up for air, with his lips puffed open and closed. He was speechless and motionless.

Jungkook knew he screwed up when he made that remark. He couldn't even backtrack nor come up with an excuse for it. Sure, you were privy to your emotions even to him, your husband of three years, but he had no reason to be telling people those. But he swears he only wanted your friends to get off his back. He felt like he was in a pressure cooker from all the bombarding comments and questions about when he would have a kid. He could only hope you hadn't heard it back then.

Clearly, he was wrong.

"Sweetheart," he placates, his hands warming your cold face as he cups and wipes the tears. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. That—that was really wrong of me to say." Jungkook pulls you to his chest, and your dam breaks. You're only glad your sobs were muffled. One of your hands curls at the lapel of his leather jacket and the other is clenched, throwing weak, harmless blows to his shoulder.

You stay curled up together inside the car. None of you knows how long, but in that shared silence, he was able to comfort you when he couldn't with words.

The loud clattering of ice and rain falling on your car rouses you. Groaning as you crack your strained neck, you shake Jungkook awake.

"Jungkook, we gotta get home." With a voice as hoarse as yours, he curses and sits up to stretch.

With eyes still squinting with sleep, Jungkook starts the car, then drives away.

-

"Wake up," a voice purrs. The voice is breathy and pointed. It tingles you in all the right places. A sudden surge of pleasure erupts from your core. Still sleep-laden, you softly whimper as your hand aimlessly touches your crotch—aching for release.

Your name is called again. This time, the voice was loud enough for you to recognize it to be your husband's. Your eyes flutter as you look down between your heaving chest, "J-Ju-Jungkook," you moan.

"Breakfast in bed, sweetheart." The proud man between your legs smirks at you, then when he's sure he has your attention, he sticks his tongue out until the tip reaches your clit and flits his tongue up and down.

"Shit, baby," you pant. The spaces between your fingers are filled with his soft hair. You tug his head closer, urging him to devour you.

You hear Jungkook chuckle. The vibration adds to the blinding arousal you're experiencing, causing you to carelessly throw your head back to the soft pillows.

He pulls your legs closer and rests your thighs on his shoulders—his hand cupping your ass. You gasp and your body starts to quiver until your arousal squirts out of you. Jungkook slurps you like his morning orange juice—drinks you in like he was wandering in the desert and he found an oasis in you.

"Sweetest breakfast ever. But I'm still hungry, babe." Jungkook wipes his mouth with his hand while he kneels on the bed to position his hips between your legs. With a cocky smirk, Jungkook immediately pumps two of his fingers into your pussy.

"Shit. Fuck. Jungkook," you wail, body thrashing in your bed. You push your hips towards his hands and you were quick to cum again.

Jungkook leaves kisses on every inch of your skin until he reaches your lips. You slip your tongue in his mouth and bite his lip, evoking a satisfied hum.

"My turn," you propose as you push him on his back.

-

"Okay, answer this, do you want to have a kid now?" You stare at your husband's eyes as yours starts to sting with the brimming tears you're trying to keep at bay.

You want to stay level-headed, not be driven by your emotions. You need to talk to him, Y/N—you remember your mom telling you. She was right. This was a talk between you and your husband, but it's difficult, and somehow, all your talks start with you with your hands up already in defense.

"I want what you want, Y/N." He sighs.

Jungkook was tired—not because of or from you, but physically. Going out straight all night was taking its toll on his body, and with that, he was prone to being more irritable.

"Christ," you cry out. "It's sentiments like those that make me feel like shit, you know?" You grunt in frustration. You look away from him, but your body remains close to his. You want to walk away, but you keep reminding yourself this talk needs to be done. And so, you plant your feet on the ground.

"You think I'm supposed to swoon and love you even more when you tell me you want what I want, but all I feel is I'm alone in making a decision that's too heavy for one person to make." Your confession was sharp on your tongue and it drove daggers to Jungkook's heart.

You recoil at seeing Jungkook's eyes moisten with tears.

"I-I know you love me, Jungkook. But—"

"No buts." He cuts you off. "I love you, Y/N. And I want to have a baby with you."

"You can't just say that." Your voice was soft, like you were worn out, but your eyes remained hopeful as they searched for truth in his.

Jungkook closes the gap between your bodies and leans his forehead against yours. In a whisper, in a voice he hopes would come across as sincere that it mirrors his heart, he re-affirms.

Happy tears fall from your eyes and you kiss him. "Take me home."

Even with the most mundane tasks, Jungkook looked good. Some days, like today, he looked too good.

You slowly pop each button to open your dress. Jungkook remains focused on the road, still clueless to your provocation. You proceed to slip your fingers under your dress, removing the flimsy cloth you call underwear.

At the sound of your seatbelt unfastening, Jungkook looks your way, and it's comical how his mouth pops open.

He swerves on the free road until pulling to a stop. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Arms outstretched to the dashboard due to his sudden turn, you scoff, "How could you drive that badly?"

"Badly? Are you..." Jungkook faces you. "You're the one out here flashing me. Thank fuck we're alone on the road."

Embarrassed, you impishly grin. With your tits still out and your dress hitched higher on your thighs, Jungkook gulps at the sight.

Catching his reaction, you smirk before climbing on his lap. He lets you. The adrenaline from your near-demise turned to lust. Jungkook grips your hips, hands pushing your dress to reveal your leaking cunt. You, on the other hand, frantically unbuckle his belt before taking out his semi-hard-on. You lick your hand, then stroke his cock to fully stiffen.

"Y/N," he stutters and bucks his hips in your hands. With a staggering drop to his dick, you both whimper. The sudden plunge was rough, but you loved the ache that came with it.

"Fuck," your husband curses. "Look at your tiny cunt swallowing me whole." he goads.

"Fuck into me," you command and Jungkook happily obliges—hips thrusting upwards. He presses his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth to suck at his digit.

Inside the car, a confetti of moans and groans explodes. Your arms wrap around Jungkook's neck to keep you from falling off from his lap. His aggressive thrusts have you bouncing, and you've hit your head on the roof once or twice, but the growing pain goes unnoticed. Thanks to your lover's unrelenting fucking, it's all you can feel, and you let it swallow you whole.

You bite Jungkook's thumb, not too hard to hurt him, but enough to feed into his pain kink. He cums first inside you. He quickly pulls his digit from your mouth and swirls it around your clit until you're reaching your climax with a shriek of his name.

Chest still heaving and high on pleasure, Jungkook teases you, "Think I fucked you good?"

His palm lays flat on your stomach and you laugh.

Yeah, he fucked you good, you muse.

-

>> Ghost of You

Now That We Don't Talk

[seokjin x reader, slight hoseok x reader] [1.3k+ lovers to strangers, angst, suggestive content] A/N: Loosely based on 1989 vault tracks: Is It Over Now? and Now That We Don't Talk. I might write another drabble loosely based on a song for Hoseok x Reader. I'm thinking of picking up the story from the end of this one. As always, all stories I write and share here are an attempt to get back into creative writing; I truly appreciate everyone who finds my writing and shows their love. Please be kind!

You part the crowd like the Red Sea Did you get anxious though On the way home? I guess I'll never, ever know Now that we don't talk

: Not In The Same Way (prequel) | Be My Mistake (jhope x reader)

-

You don't mean to stare, but you can't help it.

From where you stand, you see Seokjin walk the red carpet, and on cue, camera flashes light up, and other artists and attendees are ushered quickly to clear the booth.

The runway is illuminated, both from the flashes and Seokjin's presence.

He always had that glow around him, and it didn't matter if he was walking the carpet or simply entering a room—he seemed to effortlessly carry that aura wherever he went.

Seokjin poses like it's second nature to him, giving the photographers quality shots that would publish well in magazines and tabloids, you’re sure.

You wonder how nervous he really is.

You know for a fact that events like these are never his thing. During one of your nightly rendezvous, he admitted that all the bravado he exudes in the spotlight was actually a front to shadow his anxiety.

Oh, the celebrity life.

He knows what he signed up for, but that doesn't mean he always enjoys the tenfolds of attention, particularly when he's the lone receiver. It overwhelms him, and that feeling is followed by unwanted anxiety and the urge to hide.

When your eyes meet on the carpet, you're surprised how you can still get a good read of how he truly feels behind his facade. You can tell he's anxious as hell, and it's taking everything in you not to rush towards him, hold his hand, and walk the carpet together. Not that you ever had the chance to do so when you were still together. But at least back then, he had you waiting behind doors, ready to warm his shaky, cold hands with yours, shift his focus, and lull his raging nerves before you had to go to your tables in separate ways.

You can't do that now. Or ever. Those are distant memories now, the gap bigger than where you and he stand.

Feeling like you've glued your feet too long where you stood, you turn away and head straight to your table, no detours to dressing rooms. No Seokjin to wait on closed doors. -

There's an after-party. Like always. And as you enter the venue, you immediately find Seokjin sharing casual conversations with almost everyone. Without trying, he will always be the main character in every event. And without meaning to, he always will be the life of the party.

You steal this time to study him. He grew his hair long, you note. And though you sense that the confidence he carries to approach people is a front, you can't help but be bitter that he chooses to talk to anyone but you. He doesn't even meet your eyes nor look your way.

But you can't blame him. You suppose you're not the comfort and familiarity he seeks at the end of parties like these. With a sigh as heavy as your heart feels, you excuse yourself through the crowd as you make your way to the open bar. You might as well have your own fun before the night ends.

On the other side of the room, the crowd parts for Seokjin wherever he walks.

-

"I didn't think I'd see you here.”

You turn to follow the voice and chuckle at the man who greeted you.

“Well, I was invited,” you retort with a shrug.

Hoseok hums. “I invited you to my parties before and yet you never came. What makes this one so special?” At the last word, Hoseok raises his brows as he briefly glances to the side of the room. Where Seokjin stood, you assume.

“Just… making appearances. I have an upcoming show.” A half-truth.

Hoseok was Seokjin’s friend. Before all the fame and faux friends came. You trio met during a variety show, Law of the Jungle. You initially hit it off first with Hoseok, coming from the same hometown. But as you mingled with everyone, Seokjin’s jokes won you over. You were over the moon when after filming, he approached you with a stuttered invite to go out for a coffee.

That moment was so long ago. And yet everytime you remember it, it feels like you got to relive the moment with how strong your emotions kick in.

“So, how have you been?” Hoseok pulls you out of your reverie. He signals for the bartender and briefly acknowledges him before he returns his attention to you.

You and Hoseok managed to down one glass of cocktail after another and another until you were guided as you stepped down from the stool.

“Let me take you home,” Hoseok offers. You stare at him for a moment, cogs in your brain working.

You always had a soft spot for Hoseok, but it always remained platonic. But tonight, for the first time, he also seems to have you weak in the knees for him.

Your eyes fall on the mole on his lips and you gulp on air before nodding.

Hoseok's hand remains rested at your hip as you both walk away.

A few tables away, you miss the pair of eyes fixed on your leaving figure. Seokjin's grip on the glass tightens, and he could lie to himself and say that the burn on his throat is from the whiskey he downed in one shot, but he knows the real reason just walked out of the bar.

He hasn't healed from you walking away, albeit figuratively, and seeing you walk out with someone who isn't him just prods his bleeding wound.

-

Kim Seokjin and Im Yoon Ah Looks Cozy at After Party

Im Yoon Ah Spotted Leaving Kim Seokjin's Home

You feel your headache worsen with each headline you read, and with every photo of them together that pops into your feed, you feel your gut churn.

At this point, you should be numb to these headlines. Seokjin has been a regular scoop for the tabloids lately, and while you try to rationalize that he was a free man and any person with 20/20 vision wouldn't turn away from his attention, it still stings when you're greeted with these types of headlines.

You tried to soothe yourself with the fact that the tabloids could stretch things out. You've had your fair share of taken-out-of-context stories published, too. Hell, the first time you saw his name mentioned with another girl's name in a headline, you went out to a bar with one of your exes and, out of spite, you invited the one guy Seokjin always felt jealous over, to party and go home with you.

You regretted it the morning after. You wanted to explain yourself to Seokjin. But held back since you've already made a fool of yourself.

Still, all those nights partying and hooking up with guys, you wondered if seeing your name alongside male celebrities in headlines had the same effect on Seokjin as it did on you.

You grip your phone tighter, and you feel your throat closing in. It shouldn't hurt this much anymore.

The pang in your heart grows at the thought that he parades himself with these women with no care in the world if they get photographed. Yet, when he was with you, he made sure you left at different times and drove to his home in different cars to avoid paparazzis. You're pulled from your pity party when someone knocks on your bathroom door, "Everything okay in there?"

Switching your phone off, you open the door to a shirtless Hoseok. "I'm fine. I'm just feeling a bit hungover," you sell your excuse with a lopsided smile. Hoseok hums, "I read somewhere that you can fuck away a headache; want me to try?" he wiggles his brows at you suggestively, and for the first time this morning, perhaps even in a while, you laugh. It's not a quip you would usually find funny, lame dad jokes were more of your taste, but willing your heart to heal, you let him brighten your mood.

Hooking your arms around his shoulder, you try to be seductive as you answer, "I don't think that’s true, but I’m ready to be proven wrong."

-

Not Warriors

[seokjin x reader] [1.4k+ lovers to strangers; breakup!au; angst, smut]

Now That We Don't Talk | Not In The Same Way | High

There's nothing left to miss Except the shots I take and phone calls from you

-

You have been glued to your bed, watching reruns of FRIENDS and overstuffing your face with low-fat soy ice cream. You were allowed to wallow, but you had a red carpet to attend in a couple of weeks.

You feel miserable, but you can't look it, so says your manager. She already had a fit when she saw the dark circles under your eyes—courtesy of losing sleep at night and crying like a river by day.

And so, you make amends by finally doing something active. Walking on the treadmill, your hand balances a pint of ice cream and the other finally turns on your phone.

It's been a week since you've turned off your phone, two since your bar brawl scandal blew up on social media, and three since you and Seokjin broke up.

The first thing you see is the bold 23 encircled in glaring red on the message bubble icon. Thinking nothing of it, probably spam messages, you open the app only to be greeted by messages from close friends and families—all with the same question, but in different tones: are you okay?

You almost burst into tears again.

You didn't think this would be you—a living cliché of a heartbroken woman in her late 20s, cutting people off all because of one guy.

But Seokjin isn't some guy.

For a time, you believed he was the one. Despite hiding from the spotlight and keeping your relationship on the down-low, the moments you shared together were genuine and wholly yours.

Until they weren't, of course.

Stardom had its price. One canceled dinner turned to two until it wasn't just dinner he was missing, but special shared occasions you once celebrated were forgotten, too.

As he gained attention, more people wanted his company. You were no longer a priority and you never dared to use that against him. Hard as it was, you understood that his time wasn't entirely yours. Hell, he missed lunch dates with his mother, too. But what broke your heart was finding out it wasn't just his time you shared with other people, but his devotion, too.

Your phone ringing breaks you out of your stupor. Blinking your tears away, you see Seokjin's name on your screen.

You freeze. And so do your legs that were walking on autopilot. The next thing you feel is your body hitting your gym floor—phone screen cracked and the pint of ice cream rolling beside you.

-

This is bad. Oh, so bad.

You'll surely get in trouble if your manager finds out where you are.

And who you are waiting for.

You were supposed to visit your doctor after falling ungracefully from the treadmill earlier, instead you rushed to buy a new phone and waited for Seokjin to ring again.

The familiarity makes you sad and laugh in pity. You waited for Seokjin a lot. You waited for the perfect time to reveal your relationship, waited for him to remember your anniversaries and dates and come home, and you waited for him as he lived out his celebrity life with the hope he would remember the life he has with you.

You had a reason to wait for him then. And here you are again. Waiting.

You hear a patterned knock—one that you know so well. It's something you and Seokjin came up with when one of you would sneakily visit the other.

A rush of nostalgia tugs at your heart. You wish you were meeting as lovers. Just like old times. But no, this isn't like before, is it?

You ponder on not opening the door. All it takes is a few steps back to the bed where you can sit yourself down and wait for him to leave. But before you could convince your feet to move, you heard your name called behind the door.

It sounded like a plea.

Seokjin was always compelling. You always, somehow, gravitated towards him. You think that was what lasted you to stay with him for a long time, despite the love and trust fading away with the years. You hesitantly open the door halfway, eyes downcast and you mumble his name, ready to make your own plea—please leave. If he truly loves you, he has to let you go. He already walked away from you countless times, now would be the one time you would be thankful if he does it again.

But he doesn't.

Seokjin pushes the door to fully open before he quickly enters the room. As soon as the lock clicks, Seokjin pulls you in for a kiss.

His lips invade yours—tongue dipping in the caverns of your mouth, teeth clashing and you eventually return his kisses. Lust clouds the room, eclipsing your rationality.

The hundreds of reasons you shouldn't be here with Jin aren't lost on you. Your friends and manager drilled those in your head and it made sense. But something about Seokjin and his hands pulling at your clothes was simultaneously tearing down those walls of reasons.

Seokjin's hard body collides with yours on the bed as soft as his lips that were now making its way down to your core. You grip his hair and push his head to rush him. The sound of him chuckling comes first, followed by a wet lick to your pussy.

You stutter out his name, back arching as your grip on him tightens. In return, he grabs your thighs and pulls your hips even closer to him. His head burrowed deep in you and his fluffy bangs tickle your pubic.

"M-missed you," his words came out garbled. His mouth busy sucking your clit as he works his tongue inside your pussy.

You missed him, too. Still do. Even though you've got your eyes on him, in the same room as him, and parts of your bodies are pressed so close, not even air could pass through, you still miss him.

But you doubt he misses you the same way.

"Ride m-my face," he commands, words escaping his mouth between hungry laps at your core.

Everything that follows is muscle memory. You gyrate your hips, smearing Seokjin with your spurting arousal and you feel the vibrations from his groans. Your legs remain locked in his arms. Your lover of the night sits up and tugs at his damp brief. You drool at the sight of his long hard thick cock springing free.

However this night ends, you would relish the feeling of having him inside you again.

Seokjin plunges his dick until his balls hit your ass. He was quick to silence your moans with his lips, hotel sheets cloaking the skin slapping against skin. The only thing giving you away was the loud thuds of the bedpost against the wall, going in the same rhythm as Seokjin thrusts his cock into your pussy.

You cry out his name and a series of love confessions follows, "I still love you, Jinnie," you cry out. He thrusts harder and faster with replies of ‘I know's’.

But does he really know, you wonder. You note the lack of alike sentiments—no, I love you too's, like he would respond before.

Stuck in the haze, you let the uncertainty linger. You take it as he fucks you like he still loves you too.

Your arms remain in a tight embrace and your lips glued to each other's necks, breathing each other in.

Like lovers do.

-

You're awakened with a tickling feeling on your cheeks—perhaps a morning kiss, much like the smooches Seokjin showers you with in the morning.

With eyes still closed, you blissfully hum as your arm stretches across the bed. Your hands are expecting to reach a warm body but they hang in the air as you open your eyes to peek. Your limbs drop as quickly as your heart does.

A dejected sigh is all you could let out. You think you've been dried out from the past few weeks of crying.

This is pathetic, really. You feel pathetic and start to pity yourself even more. You don't know why you could still believe he called to get back together. If there was one thing you learned from the recent months you and Seokjin spent—those months leading to your fallout—you'd know he's no longer the person you fell in love with.

Your friends were right. By the end of it, you turned into just another body who warmed his bed. Or in this case, wet his dick.

And so you make a decision. You're not sure if you're strong enough to follow through with this.

But all you know is this—right now, as a start—you push yourself to remember Seokjin as the man who shattered your dreams and left you alone to dust the smithereens.

The next time your phone rings and Seokjin's caller ID pops on your screen, you deliberately miss his call.

-

High

[seokjin x reader] [1.3k+ angst, smut; male masturbation, ‼️ allusions of addiction]

Now That We Don't Talk | Not In The Same Way | Not Warriors

I hope you think of me highly When you're with someone else

-

Seokjin didn't mean to be so invested in the news. He only turned the television on as background noise in his eerily silent apartment.

But seeing your interview aired on the screen has him sitting on the couch, listening intently to every word you would say, waiting for the camera to pan on your face.

You were always beautiful, but lately, you've been radiant.

He wonders if it has anything to do with your new relationship.

Or maybe just being finally rid of him.

He knows the last months of your relationship weren't smooth-sailing. Truth is, he was lost during those times—often blacked out. He was living high on the celebrity life. He faked his confidence during parties until he no longer had to—of course, with the aid of alcohol and something more.

If only he stayed with you at nights, rejected the invites when he knew it was getting too much.

But everything was captivating. He was still an impressionable human being, he wouldn't deny that. Always curious and goes out of his way to dissolve the tension—in the end, everything backfired. In the worst possible way.

Seokjin's ears perk up at the mention of his name. The host referencing your humble beginnings.

'Oh. Seokjin-ssi and I are pursuing different roles in the industry, I believe. But yes, if a project with him is offered, I would love to work with him. I'm always in awe of his films and regard him highly as an actor.'

At this, his head hangs low and lets out a bitter smile.

He hopes you were telling the truth. He hopes you truly and still think of him highly. Though he's sure if you meet again, he wouldn't be greeted with eyes staring back at him with glimmer and hope, like he could hang the moon if you asked him to, he hopes you remember him when he was at his best.

And if he happens to be the topic of discussion between you and your lover, he hopes you talk about him like a fond memory.

Moreso, he hopes you still defended him to your friends. They didn't exactly hide how they feel towards him the last time they met at a red carpet event. It was just days after your breakup.

He knew he still had you then. It was because he still had you wrapped around his finger that he thought he would never lose you despite him falling off the wagon again and again and again.

He remembers the spiteful words hurled at him as they tore a tipsy you from his arms. Their words fell on his deaf ears back then and now he gives himself a hard time for not listening to them. He remains guilty over a lot of things that happened that night.

But he will never regret the brief moment he shared with you. You two are sneaking off from the show like old times, escaping to a room booked under a made-up person, and just spending the remainder of the night in each other's company.

Seokjin slowly palms himself as he closes his eyes at the vivid memory. Every skin he kissed and nipped was so soft—your fragrance so intoxicating, but he thinks that could've just been your natural scent.

You were always sweet. He licks his lips at the remembrance of your arousal flowing into his tongue. His wet tongue prodding your warm tight walls.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but you were the reason he always bought cranberry juice—the taste is likened to your clit.

Throwing his head back in the headrest with a groan, Seokjin pulls his sweatpants down to his pants to free his touch-starved cock. He spits on his palm and strokes his member up and down, up and down, all while thinking how you felt that night.

He almost goes soft at the thought that another man held you now; another man feeling you up, making love to you, whispering sweet nothings as you both reach ecstasy.

Does your new lover know how feral you go with a soft nip to your clit? Or how you want your thighs spanked when you're nearing your climax? Can your boyfriend make you cum twice with just his fingers? And when you release, does he know when to pull you in for a kiss—swallowing your whimpers and in return, his tongue would deliver whispered declarations of love.

Seokjin sighs out your name and speeds up his hands on his dick. In a lustful haze, he thinks he can almost taste you. He must be going crazy because he also thinks he heard you whisper in his ear.

I love you, Jin

And that unravels him—toes curling and hips bucking upwards, his cock spurts out strings of cum that landed on his fist and pubic. If you were here, you would lick him clean as if his arousal tasted like your favorite ice cream.

He closes his eyes and imagines you—kneeled infront of him, tongue out and flat for him to clean his cock on. He continues to tug at his cock, wanting to milk himself dry.

Fuck, he feels like a pervert fantasizing about an ex girlfriend. Seokjin hadn't been in relationships a lot, but you remain to be the only one who reverts him to his hormonal teenage boy phase. He truly lucked out on you.

Clearing out his lewd thoughts, he thanks whatever god or spirit exists that allows him to keep his thoughts to himself.

-

This is the fourth time his call goes straight to your voicemail.

He wonders if you ever listen to the messages he left. It was probably for the best if you ignored it. Most messages were drunken pleas and booty calls. But this time, he's not calling to bother you, he swears.

Out of all the people who got hurt from his carelessness, you were the one who bore

Seokjin stands in the empty complex—what used to be filled with love and the epitome of home is now barren and cold. He almost cries again at the thought that the next time he comes back here, you won't be welcoming him home. Hell, even the scent on your pillow had faded away. You made sure to clear out all of your things from what once was your shared home, obliterating any shred of evidence that you lived there.

There was a time he gave in to his weakness—he bought a bottle of your perfume and sprayed it in every room. Sadly, it never smelled the same. It lacked you. He baked the same cookies you fed him on your free days, but it never tasted as sweet as yours.

In the middle of the room, Seokjin wades in his sea of regret.

His grip on the phone tightens. He rings you again. One last time, he bargains. Please answer just this once.

It goes to your voicemail.

Clearing his throat, Seokjin wonders how to fit his words within a 30-second recording. This is the last time he could call you in a long time. So, he tries.

"Y/N, it's J-ji-. It's Seokjin. I just really needed you to know that I'm sorry," he chokes. He quickly breathes air into his lungs so as not to lose a second. "I'm going to be away for a while. My agency's putting me in a care center. A-and I want to do this, too. I'm going to get better, I promise. Y/N, you know I still lo-"

Beep

Seokjin swallows the remaining words. It's probably for the best that he was cut off. You were already with someone else.

He can't help feeling bitter and jealous. But he also knows he gave up his right to do something about it the moment he walked away, and you were a saint to tolerate him for so long.

Resignation is the least he could do.

-

Ghost Of You

[jungkook x reader] [2.3k+ angst, supernatural-ish!au??]

A/N: I've been MIA for months and while I've been logging on from time to time to read fics, I never really had the energy to write one. But I'm back with the second part of Bad Omens. I just hope I was able to write something worth reading! Not proofread—whoops.

Anyway, part 3? >> Read Bad Omens

-

Your husband complains at the long drive, stretching to ease the building fatigue in his muscles.

You knead his thighs. "Why don't you let me drive for a while?" Jungkook turns to look at you with stars in his eyes and shakes his head. You smile back with a nod and look out to the road.

"Did we take this highway this morning?"

"Yeah, I think so. This is the fastest route to the city." Jungkook briefly looks at you with a worried expression. "Something wrong?"

"Huh. That's weird..." You pull up your phone and open the web app.

Eyes glancing back and forth between you and the road, he asks you again what's wrong.

"Just.." you trail, thumb still scrolling through your search results. "I don't remember seeing the gasoline station we just passed this morning."

Jungkook hums, "Wanna stop by? You were probably asleep when we passed by earlier," he offers as an answer.

"No. I just got this strange feeling of like..," you mumble, trying to think of the right word. "Like deja vu." Brushing it off despite the gnawing strange feeling.

Jungkook extends his arm across the console to cup your cheek. Affectionately, you lean your face—the warmth of his palm is a welcomed comfort.

"We'll be home soon," he assures you as you close your eyes.

-

"Hey, sleepy head," Jungkook teases—lips centimeters away from your ears and his thick hot breath tickles you awake.

Your lips stretch to a smile, but your eyes refuse to open. "You're up early," you groan.

He chuckles. You feel the right side of the bed dip as Jungkook moves around you. "Baby, it's 11 A.M. already," he coos. Alarmed, you shoot up from the bed before he could finish his sentence, your shoulders almost hitting his cheek.

Regret quickly follows as you feel a sting of pain in your neck. "Fuck, I think I slept on my neck wrong." You stretch your limb sideways, trying to ease the tension.

Jungkook's warm hands were quick to help. His fingers gently run in circling motion as he noses at your shoulder. "Where are you rushing off to, anyway?"

"Uhh, work," you respond as if stating the obvious. But you're met with a raised brow from Jungkook.

"But it's Saturday today."

You mirror his confused face as you quickly search for your phone on the nightstand.

"What? Nuh uh, it's Friday." You shake your head as your legs swing off the bed.

Jungkook jumps to cross the bed and snatch you by the waist, pulling you back under the covers. Soft gasp and giggles erupt from your mouth as he tackles you in a bear hug, restricting you to leave again.

"C'mon, I'm going to be late for work." You pry his hands on your waist, but he refuses to give. And so, you wiggle around to face him.

"Hi," your husband chirps before kissing your lips.

Between your kisses, you call his name in broken syllables. You tap his shoulders, "I really have to go," you insist.

Jungkook's brows furrow in mixed confusion and mirth, "Baby, it really is a weekend," he insists and shows you his phone.

And he was right. Sure enough, the bold SATURDAY on the screen glares back at you.

Disoriented, you free yourself from his hold. You suddenly feel like the walls are closing in on you. Did you sleep through the day? You swore yesterday was just Thursday.

"Everything okay?" Worried eyes assess you and you feel even more anxious.

"Yes-no. I don't know. I think I'm having a deja vu?" You press the heel of your palm to your eyes. You think you feel an oncoming migraine.

"Deja vu?" Jungkook asks as he stands. "Like you've already experienced today?"

"No, not exactly," you stutter. Your brain lags to find an explanation. How do you verbalize the missing feeling inside of you?

"I feel like..." you trail off and see Jungkook's eyes are fixed on yours, patiently waiting for you to explain. "Like I skipped days? You know whenever I whined about the weekdays and hoped it was already the weekend? It's like I got my wish? But like today had already happened."

At your poor explanation, Jungkook giggles. His bunny teeth peeking and it was hard not to awe at his bright face.

"I think you're just hungry," your husband teases. "How about we get breakfast and go for a drive? Nothing too far, just until the scenery changes."

You hum in agreement. "If today's really Saturday, I might as well do something relaxing, right?"

Jungkook kisses your cheek before dashing away to the bathroom.

"You joining me in the shower?"

-

The moment you awaken, you feel the warmth of the sun rays piercing through your windows and a light breeze sweeps in every second and so. Yet, as perfect as the morning seemed to start, you're bugged by the feeling that something was amiss.

You couldn't shrug off the feeling that you're forgetting something. Jungkook's not beside you and you assume he's in the kitchen. You call for your husband and soon hear his footsteps padding across the wooden floor. Jungkook's head pops through the door frame, "You called for me?"

You meekly nod in his direction, "What day is it?"

Jungkook laughs, his obliviousness from your predicament has him amused in your state. "It's Saturday. Do you have plans for today?" he answers as he enters your room.

"How could it be Saturday again today?" You ask your husband, though the question was meant to be rhetorical, he didn’t miss the panic in your voice. "It was Saturday yesterday, and now you're telling me, it's still Saturday today?"

Confused eyes scan your face. "What are you talking about, Y/N? It is Saturday today and yesterday was Friday."

"No, Jungkook!” You exclaim as you jump off the bed. Your misdirected frustration directed at him. “If this is one of your pranks, you better own up now. It isn't funny."

"What? It's not," his hands quickly engulf your face. Yet somehow, the action gives you no comfort. "I swear, it's not."

You tear up out of frustration and your hands grip the table for support. You hear Jungkook call your name but somehow your mind is floating away.

Something's wrong.

Something's very wrong. You're forgetting something important. And anger and frustration rises inside you as you struggle to pinpoint what it is.

Next thing you know, you're hyperventilating. "I'm scared," you force the words out of your mouth.

Jungkook rushes to your side, quickly soothing you. "Breathe with me, Y/N. Focus on my breathing and follow, yeah?"

You still hear Jungkook talking, but everything is muffled. It isn't until you spot the mole just below his lips and focus on it that you regain your control.

Slowly, you feel his hands on your cheeks.

Then, your eyes travel from his lips to his eyes. Gradually, you register his voice, then his words. And you breathe with him.

You lean on each other as seconds turn to minutes. When you think your emotions are stable, you ask your husband again, "Jungkook, please just tell me now if this is just some stupid joke of yours."

A beat passes then another.

Jungkook looks like he's internally struggling with something, so you squeeze his hands to let him know that if it is a prank gone wrong, it's okay. You're not mad.

Jungkook visibly gulps and you worry. "It's really not a prank, but…” he cuts himself off. As if he was unsure of what to say. The look of confusion on his face slowly morphs into guilt.

"But what?" You urge. Confusion, anger, and fear are starting to rise inside you again. If it wasn't Jungkook standing in front of you, you would have already been impatient.

He remains pensive and quiet. And yet, his eyes look at you so lovingly, as if he yearns for you.

"Jungkook, please," you whisper. "What is going on?"

"I also don't know what's happening. But that Friday night after Jin hyung's party, something happened.”

Your anxiety grows as you see your husband start to tear up, his eyes downcast as he tries to hold back his tears. “Y/N, we got into an accident. Right after our stop by the lay-by..” Jungkook—your husband, the love of your life, the man who always toughened up for the both of you was suddenly crumbling to your arms. His words are barely coherent as he holds back sobs and tears. “I got better but..”

Your intertwined hands catch Jungkook's tears and somehow you know. He didn't have to say anything but his pained sobs told you what his mouth could not utter.

"At first, I thought I was dreaming or that the accident was a dream but I had cuts and bruises and when Jin hyung visited me he couldn't see you..."

You stumble back into the bed as you try to process what Jungkook just told you.

"Are you saying I'm—"

You couldn't even think of the word. Tears were quick to return and you looked up to your husband.

"Am I? What do you mean Jin couldn't see me?"

Jungkook kneels in front of you, his body slotting between your legs. "I tried to look for an explanation but I just accepted that this was a cruel blessing. It didn’t matter that they thought I had gone crazy and maybe they’re right. But baby, it doesn’t matter to me because you’re here. So please…” Soft hands firmly grip your own as if he was already pleading you to stay; accept your situation as it is.

Jungkook hated it when you cooed at his eyes, but he always knew when to use it to his advantage. And right now, as two doe glistening eyes plead for you and his lips pouty as he begs you to understand, you feel yourself melting to his whim despite being lost.

Still, you can’t help but cry at everything—it’s too much. And as always, Jungkook hastens to wipe your tears. He leans his forehead towards yours and hopes he can take whatever unwanted feeling you’re having right now.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes and starts to softly graze his nose to yours for an eskimo kiss—one of his ways of silently apologizing.

And it works. It was Jungkook. It was your husband.

Despite being more confused and agitated, you accept his apology. You get the feeling that he must also share the fear you feel right now. But overcome with your need to know you ask, "How long?"

Jungkook pulls away, just enough to look properly at you with furrowed brows.

"How long have I been in...limbo? Or whatever the fuck this is."

He gulps. Ruminates if he should lie or be honest.

"A year."

You recoil and scamper away from his hold. "For fucks sake, Jungkook. This isn't right. We need to get help or find someone." By now, you’re full-on panicking. You don’t know how this was possible. In all of the weird conspiracy and shit you watched when you were…alive, none of those could explain what is happening to you now.

"No," Jungkook was quick to reply; his tone was indignant. He's not letting you go—a decision he made months ago. He lost you and he believes this is a second chance for him. He shut himself and pushed everyone away to stay here with you.

And he can't let that happen.

Struggling to hold your hiccups, you at least try to make sense of your situation. "And what about the days? Why do I feel like I'm reliving or skipping days?"

A tattooed arm stretches across the bed to tuck a tear-soaked stray hair behind your ears. Jungkook's voice has that lilt he uses when he answers his six year old nephew’s questions when he answers you. "You never seem to remember anything new. You always think it's Friday, always before the accident.."

"This is so fucked up," you hiccup. Your forgotten habit of biting your nails resurfacing. "What about you? Your job? Our friends? Jungkook, you can't seriously think it's okay to be holed up here with me."

Jungkook moves closer again towards you. His sweater sleeves pulled around his fist to wipe your cheeks. "It's fine, baby. It doesn't matter if we relive the same day over and over again, you're here with me and that's all that matters. We're together."

At his sentiments, you sob. Your heart is in pieces for the man in front of you. You love Jungkook, you truly do and the thought of leaving him shatters you, but you can't keep him here with you. He said it's been a year. You look around and sure enough you notice things—the wine stain on the rug turning faint over the months passed, your basil by the kitchen window sill has grown taller, and what shatters the pieces of your broken heart is the absence of photos of your friends on the shelf.

You think about your friends. Jungkook's family. You cry harder.

Jungkook said Jin visited and thought he was crazy. You assume the worst happened.

And what about your other friends? Did they share the same sentiments?

Your wail at the thought that Jungkook not only lost you that night, but his friends, too. And it’s all your fault.

"You have to let me go," you plead. Your voice weary and hands shake from being overwhelmed. "You have to live your life. Please, Jungkook,” you plead.

"I am, Y/N. I am. As long as I’m with you, I am," your husband insists repeatedly. "Please don't leave me."

Your heart aches from his plea. How can you leave someone like him?

You’ve only been married for a few years. You barely did all of the things you said you would do—roadtrips to the country, backpacking across continents, and fuck, you wanted to build a family together; grow old together.

You curse at no one in particular; desperate for someone to blame. In the seconds that ticked, you grew spiteful.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

This was a blessing. Yes, it was cruel to live this way, but a second chance, nonetheless.

And so, you allow yourself to be selfish. You'll stay.

You'll stay with Jungkook. For Jungkook.

-

Take My Hand

A Daydream Away

[idol!yoongi x music producer!reader] [2k+ light angst?, not proofread and a self-indulgent fic, but who wouldn't want to keep Yoongi safe from the sharp edges of this world.]

Growing up, you had kept a box where you kept all of the trinkets you loved and swore to keep safe away from your best friend's, Yoongi, muddy hands, even if it cost you your life. A bit dramatic, yes, but you're just a ten-year-old. At 23, you still kept the box filled to the brim with trinkets. However, you no longer wanted to keep Yoongi away from your precious box. Rather, you wanted to keep him in it, which is ridiculous since even with all the stored things taken out, he wouldn't fit. Plus, how can a superstar ever fit in the small corners of your world when he's too big and already far away from you? In a nutshell, you fell in love with your good friend Yoongi and promise to keep him safe from the world, even from a distance. Loosely inspired by: A Daydream Away by All Time Low and Sparks by Coldplay. Also, hi, I'm back.

-

"I'm gonna add a bit more compression on the drums." Already making your way to the board, you turn the knob to adjust the sound.

You see Yoongi bob along to the music. "Good call!" Yi Jeong calls out loud enough to crack its way across the loud booming bass. You turn to look at him and smile.

While a praise from your superior makes you feel validated. You can't help but glance at Yoongi on his chair, awaiting for his opinion. Heck, you weren't even expecting him to use words, a nod is all you need to know he approves.

Even as kids, Yoongi was a... boy with few words. He rarely talked and when he did, it felt like an exclusivity from the rest of the world. He had a wide perspective and a smart mouth and talking with him then often left you speechless and mumbling words because you weren't exactly sure of the meaning of the words he used.

You were almost the same—timid. But you were quiet because you were shy and wanted to hide from boys. Yoongi, he was quiet because he didn't feel like wasting his energy talking.

It was a surprise you became friends. And a lifelong at that.

"Yoongi, what do you think?"

You pretend to busy yourself, staring at the sheet music as the two men talked. At your peripheral vision, you see Yoongi nod and hit save on the music draft.

Only then were you able to breathe.

"I think we may beat the deadline, guys. Appreciate all the help," Yoongi praises. He uncaps his bottle of whiskey, pours a shot, and hands it to you. "Seriously, Y/N, thanks for the help. Thought you were losing your touch," he teases.

"Losing touch my ass," you scoff as you snatch the glass from his warm calloused hands. "If someone's losing something it's Yi Jeong-nim. He said we'll miss the deadline, but you just said it, we might actually submit your demo early." You smirk Yi Jeong's way before downing the whiskey.

The comfortable silence eases in as the track ends. You loved moments like this, especially when it was just you and Yoongi in the room. You would share a smile before letting everything sink in. Your snotty friend now a worldwide superstar and you, still on his side, his number one supporter, his trusted producer. You would say you made it. Being able to produce music had been your dream when you were thirteen, Yoongi's, too when he was five and learned how to play the piano.

"You think the fans would like it?" In the thick of the silence came Yoongi's doubt. This wasn't unfamiliar territory. He often doubted himself despite how far he came. You wished you could carry those baggages for him, let you take all the heavy weight the world throws him and for once so he could lift his head up and see just how much his music positively change people for good. It's the least he deserves.

But no. That wasn't how the world treated Yoongi and try all you might to take all the hits before it reaches him, the only thing you could really do was offer assurance and hope he does listen to you—not because you're his friend or workmate, but because even for just a moment, just a sliver, he believes it too.

"You know they will," you replied with a smile, hand outstretched to pat him on the back. Your hands lingered, itching to pull him in for a hug just like you always had when you were sixteen and he often came home defeated after submitting his demo to a recording studio. It was another reason you believe Yoongi deserves what he has now and even more.

Feeling like you waited a second too awkward, you pull your hand away and reach for the bottle instead. This is the new routine for your group when one or the other got a bit too pensive, down the thought with a bitter shot of whiskey. No hugs and no more crying on the kitchen floors.

But your arms yearned for Yoongi. You wanted to wrap him around your arms, twice if possible. Words of affirmation and compliments are ready to roll out of your tongue.

-

"You ready?" Yoongi asks as he locks his seatbelt.

This getaway was his idea. A present, he says, for beating the deadline and gaining back more time to rest.

"I was born ready," you lamely replied with a grin. "I got your favorite records queued on my playlist. Now where are we heading?"

"You'll see," he teases, winking your way.

While on the outside you mastered rolling your eyes as you pretend to be disgusted at him, deeply, you're trying not to fawn at the sight. Yoongi had always been adorable even when he was annoying—it evened things out. Then came puberty and suddenly he shaped up to be the man of your dreams. It didn't help that as you grew together, so did your bond. He became your person and you became his.

But with the bond came barriers. Even with your soul-crushing yearning for him, to be with him, you knew you couldn't cross the line. You knew you would get along, tried and tested by the time, but it's his stature now that makes you step back.

You knew Yoongi. If you, his childhood friend and producer suddenly confesses to him, whether he feels the same way or not, it would put him in a difficult position. You truly love and care for him, which is why you were not about to add yourself to the list of things that keeps him awake at night.

You needed to stop being greedy. This was enough, what you have is enough—an unbreakable friendship. This way, you could always protect and assure him. Keep him safe from himself and the world.

Besides, whenever you thought about dating Yoongi, you laugh at how incredulous it was. You knew Yoongi, but you don't know what you would do if you were dating a superstar.

-

"I can't believe you were able to rent this place. I didn't even know they still rented it out." To say you were amazed was an understatement. When Yoongi said it was a surprise, he really meant it was a surprise. For some reason money, the owner of the cabin you frequented to as kids was open again for booking. Or that's what you initially thought. It was only when Yoongi told you that they still don't did you realize that he was able to do so because of his status.

"Do you think they still have the log at the back with our names etched?" With a child-like wonder, you race Yoongi to the back of the house, both of you giggling like you were nine again.

"Still here," he muses. His lithe fingers tracing the indents of your names, albeit it was covered with moss and almost illegible, you both knew it was your names on the wood. “I remember you taking a bark from this tree and keeping it in that box of yours,” his giggles a clear sign of amusement and a hint of teasing. He always made fun of you for keeping “useless trash”—as he calls it. How bittersweet, you think. If he knew how most of those trinkets you kept are from moments you shared, would he still think the same?

“Well, I’ll have you know that I still have that box and everything in it,” you smugly retort. He can make fun of it all he wants, you were sentimental that way.

“Seriously?” He sounded surprised. “I thought you got rid of those by now. I mean you kept a rabbit’s foot, for fucks sake. Must be one hell of a smell when you open your oh-so-precious box.”

You stand with a huff and he follows. “It’s a stuffed rabbit foot.” You hear him hum in mocking agreement as you both enter the house. “Plus, you gave it to me. For luck.” You smile at the memory. Nevermind that despite holding on to it for years—during your internships, job interviews, and every life-deciding moment, you never felt luck was on your side. But Yoongi was. For every mishap at your internship, he comforted you; he recommended you as a freelancer to where he was and even your job now, it was Yoongi’s doing. At some point, you thought holding on to that rabbit foot meant holding on to him. As if keeping the stuffed foot in your pocket guarantees that Yoongi stays beside you. But when you realized how selfish and greedy you were becoming—wanting more of him, you returned the toy to your box. Yet, Yoongi stayed and it was a relief, but at the same time it scared you.

Even until now.

“You’re making dinner, right?”

“Always,” his reply coming instantaneously and so does his quip. “You might burn the kitchen down.”

-

You think you've never seen him this happy in a long time.

Head thrown back as he laughs at your embarrassing encounters, the sound of his hearty giggles reverberates around the room. It's worth it to see him light up again, even at your own expense. If he gets to keep that light, carefree aura on him, you would willingly stand at the center stage and do silly things for his amusement.

He deserves all the happiness and love in the world, you believe so.

“Remember that American producer we worked with?” Yoongi refills your cup with whiskey as you hum in agreement and a sudden wave of remembrance washes over you.

“He was a real asshole, throwing you under the bus like that,” you speak with bitterness and contempt of the man. “But I’m glad management saw through him and got what he deserved.”

“Y/N, I know what you did. And I never got to thank you because I was so embarrassed, but…” Yoongi trails off. His eyes suddenly too shy to meet yours. But Yoongi knew.

He knew what you did for him—almost risking your own job to out a coworker, going out on a limb, all because of that one time he pointed his fingers at Yoongi when they couldn’t meet the deadline for a song, making him feel incompetent and overcompensate, up to the point that he still overworked himself despite being sick and to the brink of hospitalization.

“Oh,” You down the shot, buying yourself time to think of a reply. “I did what anyone would have done knowing the situation.” You reach for the bottle to pour yourself more drink when Yoongi snatches it out of your reach.

“No. Not anyone would have done that. People knew but they kept quiet, but you—like always, you stuck by me. Even risking your career.”

Of course, I did. I love you. You come first before everything else. You deserve more than I can give and this was the least I could do. I would walk barefoot on burning coals and swim across an ocean if it meant giving you what you deserve.

“Of course, I did.” You smirk—your loop-sided smile an attempt to ease the sudden discomfort you feel because Yoongi is looking at you.

Yoongi looks at you with glassy eyes, the one that makes him irresistible at the same time compels you to bubble-wrap him to keep him away from the sharp edges of this world. He looks at you like you hung the moon and stars in the night sky that he very much loves. You know that look because you caught yourself having that same expression when he’s singing.

But you have to keep boundaries. You already feel guilty for thinking about what-ifs and if-onlys.

What if we were just two regular people? Both nobodies, would it be easier to give in to these feelings?

What if we risked everything? Would the reward be as great as this persistent temptation?

If only you weren't so far away.

If only you were mine before the world took claim of you.

What if I was yours and you were mine?

Unsaid words hoping to be conveyed through a look. You can’t take it. You could be wrong. That look could mean differently and so you divert.

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Your tone and indignation on the word friends not lost to both of you. You almost grimace at how obvious that was.

Yoongi stares at you, blinks and gulps. “Yep, that’s what friends are for.”

He refills your glasses and raises his own. “To being good friends until the end.”

You haven’t drank the whiskey yet, but your throat burns as you swallow the words. “To being good friends.”