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jnginlov · 9 months

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when did you start to have feelings for the cute stranger on your morning commute and how are you going to be able to tell him?

⇀ pairing yunho x reader

⇀ genre fluff, angst, strangers 2 lovers

⇀ style one-shot

⇀ word count 4k

⇀ warnings food, yunho cries

⇀ reactions from the gc “Okay but why do I have tears in my eyes” “I feel all warm and toasty inside” “I had a lovely time”

note sorry if you hate brown sugar oatmilk lattes, cinnamon sugar bagels, pastries in general, or sushi

getting a new position in your company meant better pay, a new office, and different work hours. you were happy for the shift in your routine, feeling like you were starting to become a part of some machine, but you were honestly happier for the shift in your commute time.

your old hours always had you riding the train at the busiest times, shoved into a car with a collection of other desk workers like a bunch of sardines, and over the years you’d grown used to not being able to find a seat or even have any form of personal space. you’d always accepted it as a necessary evil that just accompanied getting to work at a prestigious corporation in the city but now, climbing into a train car that was next to empty, you were regretting ever settling for less.

you’d quickly grown into a routine with these new hours, grabbing an iced brown sugar oatmilk latte from the cafe on the corner of the station entrance before your train, spending the 30-ish minute ride sipping and reading a few pages from the book you’d purchased most recently, and then using the extra time before work started to grab a cinnamon sugar bagel from the bakery a block away from the company, unless the pastry of the day was particularly appealing in which case you’d grab two of those.

of the people who took the train at the same time as you, there were always a few regulars mixed in with the random passengers. the old lady, you’d lovingly nicknamed mrs. blue, was an every day passenger. she’d already be on the train when you would board, sat in the farthest corner of the car, with a collection of different knit items on her lap, some incomplete and often actively being worked on during the ride. she wore a different blue shirt every day, and although you were months into this new routine she hadn’t repeated any yet. she would get off exactly three stops before you, taking her time to gather her knits as the doors opened and although you worried that one day the doors would close before she made it onto the platform she hadn’t missed her stop yet.

probably the most recent regular you noticed was someone you’d called the flash to your roommate and the name just stuck. he would board one stop after yours, always arriving at the platform at the same time as the train. he’d take about a minute to look at all the free seats on the train but after what seemed like a heavy debate with himself, one where he would gesture subtly with his hands and mutter quietly under his breath, he would take the same seat he’d taken yesterday, and the day before, and every day as long as you’d been riding this line. he would get off a stop before your own and just as with his arrival, his form would disappear from the platform in tandem with the train’s departure.

of course the most interesting of all the passengers, and the first regular you’d noticed, was a man that both boarded and exited the train at the same stops as you. he was tall, you’d estimate around six feet, and although he’d seemed intimidating as you’d stood on the departure platform for the first time since your change in work hours, he sent you a smile that simply melted away all of your worries when he’d caught your eyes flickering toward him cautiously.

he was always waiting at the platform before you, no matter how early you were to the station, and he always wore one wireless earbud. if it was in the right ear he was obviously on a call, talking and laughing with someone he’d called mingi. if it was in the left ear he was silent and you assumed he was just listening to something, likely music or an audiobook. however, no matter which ear was occupied he would always greet you with a warm smile and a slight nod when you would saddle up next to him on the platform.

you’d tried to parse his reasons for taking the train so often and so regularly but it was next to impossible to be sure when he was always dressed so casually and never carried the same items. some days he’d be weighed down by a backpack that looked like it was holding several concrete bricks while other days he’d have nothing but his phone in his hand. every few days he’d have a different bag of takeout food, though the only repeat container was from a thai place you’d googled one day after noticing him carrying a bag with the same logo for the fourth time.

when you both would leave the train after arriving at your stop, you would cross paths, each of you having exited the door of the car opposite to the direction you would head to leave the platform. at first he would just give you another smile and nod but about a month into this routine he’d escalated to telling you to “have a good day” to which you’d return a quick “you too”.

the train on the way home from work held a different set of regulars, a slightly younger and more rowdy collection, but after a couple months into this new pattern you would find your mind wandering away from the words on the page in front of you to the man from your morning ride.

he was certainly attractive, a sharp jaw that complimented sculpted cheeks, a nose that perfectly defined his side profile, and eyes that would crinkle up whenever he would laugh or smile. speaking of his laugh, you’d noticed he had a habit of tilting his head back when he would find something particularly amusing, a tendency that had caused him to bump his head against the wall of the train car behind him several times. each time this accident had occurred, you would dip your own head, lips pressed together in an attempt to suppress the enamored giggles that would bubble into your throat. after you managed to calm yourself, you’d take a peek in the man’s direction to find a light blush dusted over the apples of his cheeks and along the tops of his ears, eyes flicking toward you before his ears would transition to an even darker shade of red and he would hide his own shy giggles behind his hand, his gaze shifting to the train floor.

your routine became familiar after a few months, comfortable even. it gave you a sense of security, knowing that he’ll always be there.

of course that means that the one day you arrive at the station and he’s not stood in his usual spot on the platform you can almost feel the universe poking a hole through your bubble. it lets in a little bit of something that anyone else might recognize as disappointment, but to you it feels heavier. it’s painted with a hint of worry, and you itch to check the time on your phone every few seconds just to triple and quadruple check that you’re not running behind. you try to ignore the way his absence has thrown you off but as you take a sip of your latte it almost feels like even your drink tastes different.

you board the train when it arrives as you would every other time but even mrs. blue seems to notice the lack of your usual companion, pausing a moment in the middle of a stitch with yarn tangled between her fingers, before she returns to her own routine. similarly, the flash takes twice as long to choose his usual seat, eyes lingering on where the man would usually have been sitting before he moves about his day as normal.

your book seems even less interesting today, the story dragging on as the author tries to build suspense that you just can’t seem to bring yourself to focus on. instead, you wonder if he’s okay, you hope he is, dwelling on all of the possible reasons he could have missed the train, because that’s what you assume he did. he must have missed it, his alarm this morning not waking him or construction making him change his usual path to the station. of all the possibilities for his absence, you in no way consider the reality that approaches as you hop off at your usual stop.

he makes his way through the door he would normally exit, boarding the car instead, with a woman following close on his heels. their hands are connected, fingers intertwined, as he pulls her toward his usual seat on the train and he wears the same light blush as when he’d hit his head on the wall. he looks happy and you want to breathe a sigh of relief that he’s okay, but your body refuses to relax at the sight, your stomach turning and heart clenching as you see her beam up at him.

neither of them take any notice of you, too enraptured in the little bubble surrounding them as you make your way toward the rest of your day. something in the back of your mind tells you that you’re not going to have a very good one.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your day isn’t too extraordinary, the usual tasks and duties taking up your work time, but every so often your mind will drift, as it usually does, to your train companion. unfortunately, instead of the standard admirations of the way he’d worn his hair that day or the opinions on the conversation that you’d parsed from hearing just his half of the phone call, your thoughts seem to be stuck on the way her hand had been firmly captured in his own and the way his eyes had lit up when the woman on his arm had laughed.

as the weeks go on, and his appearances on the train become more infrequent and completely changed by the girl that seems to be his world, you start to consider that this may be your new normal. maybe a regular has shifted into the crowd.

you feel something inside yourself shift in response to this new situation and you try not to harp on it. however, how are you supposed to reconcile something that you weren’t even aware had been happening. when had the boy stood on the platform turned into a crush?

it felt childish to admit, falling for a relative stranger, but it felt even more foolish to realize that she must have been his reason for all those months. that girl was why he took the train, why he was always punctual and bright. maybe you’d purposely ignored the signs, the occasional bouquet and the mention of a jiyoung when on a call, or maybe you’d been too caught up in your own interest, in your own feelings, to realize that he was only a stranger. you didn’t even know his name.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’re not even sure how long it had been since you’d seen him on the platform as you approached, your latte in your hand and steps stuttering as you realized that he was there. he looked nice today, more dressed up than you think you'd ever seen him. black tie neat and blazer crisp as he shifted from foot to foot almost nervously. it was hard not to notice the bouquet in his arms, a collection of several different pink flowers wrapped neatly in brown paper, and the container of food from that thai place. you could reason to guess that it was likely her favorite, the portions he’d carried had always been suspiciously small for someone of his stature but you’d never seen a need to analyze that before.

aside from the new surprise that just is seeing him on this platform and taking this train, you’re shocked to find that you can’t see an earbud in his left ear but he also doesn’t appear to be in conversation with anyone. he’s not on the phone, he’s not even reaching into his pocket for his headphones, he’s staring straight ahead at the empty tracks, almost willing the train to arrive faster.

as you approach your usual spot on the platform his eyes flick over to you, sensing movement in his peripheral. you try not to make eye contact, pulling your phone out of your pocket to appear busy.

“hi.”

of all the greetings you’ve ever shared, verbal communication was new. you weren’t anticipating any sort of recognition, as you’d stood further away from him purposely, partly in an effort to avoid any sort of interaction with him.

you didn’t respond aloud, your gaze briefly locking with his as you nod slightly before looking back to the screen of your phone.

he doesn’t seem deterred by your lack of proper response, though, as he takes a step in your direction.

“do you think this is too cheesy?”

his voice is much higher than you’ve heard it previously, when he’s talking with mingi or sending you off to have a good day, and you can hear a nervous shake in the tone.

you venture to glance back up at him, the bouquet in his hands now turned out to you so that you can see the writing on the wrapping paper.

will you be my girlfriend?

the lump that forms in your throat is involuntary and you try to swallow it away as you blink at him.

“it’s cute,” you manage after a moment, trying to avoid further discussion as you quickly return to your phone. maybe you could fish out your own headphones from the depths of your bag.

“i got her favorite too,” he explains with a lift of the takeout container, completely oblivious to the hint that you aren’t in the mood to converse. “i never really liked thai but i don’t mind.”

you bite your tongue to keep from saying anything, urging your brain to ignore the curiosity of what he would prefer instead.

you’re sure that you’ve never been more thankful for the punctuality of the train as it comes quickly into view in the next moment, screeching to a stop in front of you both and cutting off the conversation.

you notice that he makes his way to his usual spot, mrs. blue peeking at him from the corner of her eye before she returns to her latest project.

instead of your usual place, one that wasn’t directly across from him but still too close for whatever your heart was doing right now, you decide to take a different spot, one where you can convincingly be enraptured in the pages of your book while your mind takes in none of the words, too focused on the latest development with your train companion.

you try to think about anything other than the boy with the bouquet but it feels like the length of the ride that you’ve taken for months has suddenly doubled. you’re not sure the doors have ever stayed open this long at each stop, yet each platform is more unusually barren than the last, leaving the car with just the usuals occupying their spots.

at your stop, only you and him are left and you realize that in sitting further away from him you’d managed to sit closer to the door that he would normally exit, both of you almost colliding as you try to fit through the doorway and step out onto the platform.

“have a good day,” he says, and it’s not only different because it’s the first time you’d heard the phrase from him in so long but because his voice is still high and still shaky.

you take a shallow breath, trying to calm the prickling sensation that washes over your skin, and you reply, “good luck.”

you don’t stay to see his reaction, dipping your head and feet leading you in your usual direction. you don’t even realize you were practically jogging until you make it to the bakery almost 10 minutes before you normally would.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

half of your day is spent wondering how it all went for him, your regular duties not nearly as interesting as the turmoil in your heart.

your brain tells you that she obviously said yes, simply based on the brief moments you’d seen of them together, and your heart reasons that you want her to say yes, the smile that she’d put on his face when they were together absolutely mesmerizing, but somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach you wish for her to say no. you try to suppress the thought, reasoning that it wouldn’t mean you suddenly had a chance, but the jealousy only continued to fester until you realize that you’d been typing out your internal argument instead of the report you were tasked to start.

you tussle with your feelings for the rest of the day, even as you pack up and make your way to the station in order to head back home for the night. you’re almost too caught up in your head to notice a familiar bouquet in the hands of an even more familiar stranger sat on the bench just off the platform.

you pause when you first notice him, his gaze set firmly on the slightly wilted flowers, eyebrows furrowed in what appears to be a mix of thought and anger, and you try to decide what to do. you could simply walk past and pretend that you hadn’t noticed him, but as you consider that a guilt starts to replace the jealous feeling that had started to manifest earlier in the day. a voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re responsible, you’d secretly wished for his rejection hadn’t you, but you quiet that voice as you take a deep breath and approach him.

“hi,” you chirp once you’re at the end of the bench and you realize that you don’t know what else to say. you didn’t have any kind of plan.

he looks up at you, eyes wide and a little pathetic to complement the subtle downturn of his lips. you try not to react when he notices it’s you and his expression lifts slightly before dropping back down.

“hi,” he practically whispers, the word heavy and soft as it leaves his lips.

“this seat taken?” you resist the urge to drop your face into your palm as your mouth moves before you can stop it but if he finds the phrase at all awkward he doesn’t comment, only gesturing to the empty space with his hand as a sort of invitation.

you move onto the bench, angling your body to face him and you can’t tell if you imagine him shift to match you or if he’d always been sat on an angle as his gaze moves back to the flowers.

“she said no,” he supplies with a shake of the bouquet and a few petals fall out, one landing in his lap while the rest float to the ground.

you bite your lip as your hand reaches out reflexively but you quickly pull it back in before you can pick the petal from his thigh.

“did she say why?” you ignore the thought that you may be prying, telling yourself that he’d offered the information first.

he lets out a single humorless chuckle as his eyes close. when he opens them he looks up at you once more, gaze and voice noticeably watery as he replies, “she never wanted something serious. she thought it was just always going to be casual.”

a tear makes its way past his waterline and he’s quick to wipe it away with the back of his hand before he drops his gaze to his lap, noticing the petal there and brushing it off.

you try to think of anything else to do aside from just sitting here and watching him cry when you realize that he no longer has the bag of takeout and are reminded of the question you wanted to ask him earlier in the day.

“what’s your favorite?” you ask, cringing slightly for not being clear when he looks up at you with a confused expression.

“uh, food,” you elaborate and he tilts his head slightly as though he’s never heard the question before.

he takes a moment to think, eyes fluttering around the both of you, before he says, “i guess japanese.”

you nod slowly, pursing your lips as it’s now your turn to think.

“great,” you say after a moment, rising from the bench after you check the time, “because i love sushi.”

he quirks his head at you again, this time his face scrunches up in confusion, as he watches you stand and take the bouquet from his hands. he doesn’t bother to try getting it back as you walk toward the edge of the platform, the train coming into view only a moment later.

when you notice that he hasn’t followed you, you look back at him over your shoulder.

“you’re gonna miss your train,” you call to him and he hesitantly follows as you board.

the car is empty today and you breathe a gentle sigh of relief as you anticipate your plan.

only a few seconds after you’ve taken your seat, your train companion steps into the car, still observing you with confusion, although you see a hint of amusement start to take over his features as you gesture to his usual seat.

he says nothing as he sits down, eyes fixed on you to the point that he almost misses his chair, sliding down into the seat with a soft thump.

“if you keep staring at me you’re going to make this immensely harder for me,” you say loud enough for him to hear as you look down at the bouquet in your hands. you take the edge of the brown wrapping paper into your hand, the material considerably more wrinkled than when you’d seen it earlier that day, and start to tear. luckily the writing is on the outer layer and so you can tear it off without causing the arrangement to change.

you can’t see his face but you can imagine the tilt of his head as you work to remove the phrase from the flowers, crumbling up the paper and tossing it into your bag.

as the train comes to the first stop you peek onto the platform and silently thank the universe for urging those taking the train from this station to climb into the other cars, leaving only you and your stranger sat in the plastic seats of the familiar car.

before the train can start to move again you stand, clearing your throat, and you notice him shift slightly as though preparing to get up before you take a few steps and close the distance between you.

you let out a breath as you take the seat next to him, eyes intently connected with his own, before holding the bouquet in front of him.

“hi, i’m y/n and i’ve seen you on the train before,” you start, his eyes eager and round as though trying to convey that he’s listening. “i think you’re really cute and i’d appreciate the chance to take you to din-“ you cut yourself off as you pull out your phone to check the time and you swear the corners of his lips pull up in amusement. “midnight snack,” you conclude, putting your phone away as you turn back to him.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, eyes just looking into yours as his lips slowly part to reveal a toothy smile.

“preferably japanese,” you add to break the silence, the words barely audible.

without breaking eye contact he takes the bouquet from your hand, his fingers brushing against your own and causing a heat to climb the back of your neck.

“hi,” he starts, placing the bouquet onto the seat on the other side of him, “i’m yunho and i’ve seen you on the train before. i think you’re very cute and i’d be happy to get a midnight snack with you.”

you try to keep the blush from spreading to your cheeks but you give up as you notice yunho’s own ears and face growing pink.

“i just have one condition,” he adds and you cock your head in confusion.

“the snack has to be japanese.”

↼ ateez masterlist

note idk why but i just apparently feel the need to romanticize public transit AGAIN

let me know what you thought?

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lolabangtan · 2 years

Text

arte factum | pjm

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

Word count: 17k

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

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

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

Read this story listening to its own Spotify playlist.

“I didn’t know you were back already. How did it go?”

You’re still staring at your reflection on the teacup, the steamy drink smudging your face despite your complete stasis. It’s been at least five minutes since Taehyung poured it for you, but you’re still gripping the cup instead of sipping it.

“Well,” you murmur without looking away, “how do all funerals go? – they’re always depressive as fuck.”

Yoongi takes a seat in front of you “You know you can be sad about it, don’t you? It doesn’t mean you’re to blame. We— we don’t know anything yet.”

“My husband killed himself!” you blurt out, finally ripping your eyes away from your reflection. “I know I didn’t do anything, but still— maybe I could’ve done something. Maybe— maybe he wouldn’t be dead if I hadn’t sued him.”

You’re still wearing all back, sitting down miserably in your kitchen. That tea that Taehyung poured you is starting to cool down.

“Your hubby was a psycho, remember? It doesn’t make him any less of a stalker just because he’s dead now.”

Your friend has always had a way with words, you think to yourself with a chuckle; after all, he’s right. Just because he’s dead, it doesn’t mean he didn’t put you through all that shit. In a way, and you feel terrible for this, you’re kind of glad he’s gone.

“Mrs Im said they’d read the will this evening. You’re not going, after all?”

“You think he left me anything?” you ask him with an arched eyebrow.

But Yoongi just shrugs. “Maybe. Who knows.”

Even if he did, you’re not sure you want any of the things your ex-husband could’ve possibly left for you after his death. They’d be soiled with hatred and poison.

It seems, after all, that he did leave you something in his will. Or that you suspect, at least, after you’re summoned to his house by one of his lawyers. You can’t even describe the goosebumps rising in your skin as you walk into the suburban house that you used to call home.

“Ma’am, it’s good to see you.” Mrs Im rushes to shake your hand when she sees you. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” you say half-heartedly.

But, well, you went to the funeral, so it would be odd not to come; you need to finish off and seal this part of your life for once and for all.

“Don’t worry, it’s just some money and the art collection.” You don’t miss the way the woman and the notary eye each other, and you cross your eyes. “Uh, well, there is something else... that he left for you hoping you’d accept. One of his last creations. He finished it a few months ago.”

“I don’t really need a vacuuming robot, thank—”

“Oh, ma’am—! It’s something completely different,” the lawyer cries out.

With an arched eyebrow, you follow them down the hall, now more intrigued than ever, and walk down the steps that lead to his lab, where he’d work on all of his inventions. A mad scientist for a husband is what you had. A truly mad genius. You can’t even fathom what he’s invented this time.

Since it’s not been longer than a week since he passed away, the place is just as eery and spooky as it has always been.

You walk downstairs following the other two and stop in your tracks when they do, almost bumping against them. Arching your eyebrows once again, you open your mouth to ask them what’s wrong but go quiet when a young man, standing naked in the middle of the room, waves at you with the sweetest of smiles.

“God! I told you not to turn it on yet! Fucking hell, I almost had a fucking heart attack,” Mrs Im grunts, putting her hand on her chest.

“S-sorry, I swear I thought it was turned off when I left...”

Your eyes can’t help but flutter down to his crotch; his cock is thick and decently sized, but what truly makes your mouth water is how it reddens and twitches when the two of you meet. Oh, how you like nice cocks. How you need one in your life— isn’t he gonna cover himself or something, though?

“Uh, nice to meet you. Anybody cares to explain what the hell is going on?” you finally blurt out, a bit tired of their antics and dying to just have something else to look at. “I’d like to go back home as soon as possible.”

The woman takes a deep breath. “This is it, ma’am— this is what your husband wanted you to keep—”

“My name is Jimin, ma’am. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

You don’t listen and turn around towards her:

“He... wanted me to adopt this guy?”

“That’s not a ‘guy’, ma’am, it’s Jimin, or subject JM13, a robot. Your ex-husband had been working on it for five years until now,” the notary continues, finally making himself noticed.

Five years? That means he was already working on it during the last years of your marriage. Weird.

“He was planning on selling the design to a company for the massive production of, er, sex androids.” Mrs Im’s voice goes meeker and softer as she speaks, perhaps ashamed of her words. Honestly? Same. Fucking sickhead. You stare at the so-called Jimin in disbelief. “However” – you look up back at her when she continues – “he seemed to change his mind at some point and decided to keep it and make you its guardian if something ever happened to him.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a... sex robot, if I may know?”

Mrs Im walks up to the big table in the centre of the room and picks up a bunch of papers just to read them leisurely. Then she puts them back on the surface and sighs.

“Can I be honest with you, ma’am?” You nod, though a bit hesitant. “Just take it. Sell it off if you want, there wasn’t anything that forbids you on the will. Or keep it; it can clean, cook, and fuck your brains out if you want. Do whatever you want, I just wanna be over with this case already. Your psycho ex has been giving me a headache ever since you sued him after your divorce.”

You need a couple of seconds to process it all, but you quickly come to the conclusion that she’s just as tired of this business as you. And maybe a hand or two at home won’t be so bad after all.

But it’s so spooky – he looks just like a person.

“So, its name is Jimin?” you ask as you walk up to the standing figure in front of you. You don’t need to tilt your head to look at him.

“So it seems.”

“I guess you’re coming home with me, Jimin. I just hope these two know how you work,” you say then, glancing at them.

“I’ll be happy to help, ma’am.” Jimin’s voice is probably the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard; it slithers into your mushy brain and pools on your tongue with the craving of saying his name out loud yourself – Jimin. “Thank you for keeping me. I will do anything I can to be of assistance to you.”

“I’m sure you will... Come on, let’s go home. By the way, don’t you come with instructions or something?”

Jimin laughs boyishly. “I’m automated, ma’am.”

“Well, there is one thing that you might want to know, though...” The woman butts in with the papers in her hand and reads, “If it ever puts you in danger and ignores direct instructions, you can always press the small switch behind his left ear. It will proceed with the complete shutdown of its system until you decide to turn it on again. In case you are being immobilised, just say out loud its name along with ‘shutdown’ and it will turn itself off.”

As soon as they’ve handed you some clothes for him and given you the little instructions Jimin needs to function, you find yourself closing the door of the side of the car where he’s sitting right now before you head to the driver's seat.

It’s true that you don’t trust this thing in the slightest, especially knowing who created it. But you’re determined to find out what has your ex-husband planned for you and why he decided he wanted you to keep Jimin out of all the people he knew. Maybe he’s not dead and is watching you right now through a peephole in the android’s eyes? Maybe he’s not done making your life miserable yet.

“Ma’am—!”

Jimin takes the wheel in time before your car takes a turn, neglected during the short but strong while you’ve been sulking in your thoughts.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asks you then, looking at you with concern as you take over the wheel again. “Would you rather I drove instead?”

“No, it’s... It’s okay, Jimin, thank you.”

“Your heart is beating fast, ma’am. Am I making you uneasy?”

You roll your eyes with a shameful sigh. “Uh, maybe a little. But it’s not your fault— you just have a creator with kind of a nasty name.”

“You used to sleep with my Master, I know.”

“Yeah... I mean,” you blurt out, now a bit bashful, “we were married. It was a bit more serious than just sleeping together – unfortunately.”

But then you realise— how on earth does this robot know who you are?

“Did he talk about me?”

“He talked about you quite often.”

You take a breath. “And what would he say?”

“My Master... wanted me to know how much he loved you,” Jimin says half-heartedly.

So, he just built himself a friend. One that couldn’t run away from him – pathetic. But Jimin doesn’t seem too fond of him, so you relish in the idea that your ex couldn’t even keep his handmade friends.

“He didn’t love me,” you spit out. “That nasty thing wasn’t love.”

It’s pretty much pointless to try and explain what love is to a robot, so you just tighten your grip on the wheel. For the rest of the ride, you stay in complete silence, and Jimin respects that you don’t want to talk.

“Uh, I guess you won’t need a bedroom? Or do you?”

Jimin takes a look around, inspecting the entrance hall of your house. “It’s better for my hardware to rest on a bed when I’m on standby, ma’am.”

“And... when do you switch to stand-by?”

“Once you go to bed,” he replies with a smile. “But I react to loud noises and turn back on in case there’s an emergency.”

Oh, so you get a full-time bodyguard in the package too. Cool – you guess.

“In that case, you can have the guest room. My room is upstairs— well, I’ll show you around now. Follow me.” Naturally, Jimin does as told and walks behind you as you guide him through the rest of the house. “My office is at the end of the corridor. I need to focus when I’m working, so please, don’t make too much of a fuss if you’re around this part of the house.”

“May I know what’s your profession?” Jimin asks on his way back to the kitchen.

“I’m... I draw comics,” you murmur. “It’s a pretty boring job since I started working for a publishing company, but the pay is really good— and I work at home a lot, so I’d also prefer if you didn’t disturb me when I’m in there unless there’s an emergency.”

You go to grab the kettle to make yourself some tea, but he gently takes it from your hand and beckons you to take a seat instead.

“Please allow me, ma’am.”

Pulling your hands away, you let him take charge of your tea and sit down. It’s oddly nice, but there’s a little voice in your head nagging you for taking advantage of a robot. As if that’s even possible. However, the voice slowly fades as Jimin prepares your tea, your eyes fixed on the way the muscles of his back bulge and tense under the flimsy fabric.

Well, your ex-husband did a pretty decent job with this one.

“There you go, ma’am. Would you like some cream with it?” he asks again with that angelic voice of his. You just shake your head. “What would you like me to do now?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” You fidget on your spot, awkwardly taking the teacup between your fingers.

“Please— I want to be of service.”

At his insistence, you nod weakly. “Well, I guess the kitchen could use some maintenance... And I think the microwave is broken. Can you... do something about that?”

Jimin nods fervently and, after asking you where can he find the tools, he gets on with the job. You can just watch him in awe as he dusts the windows, fixes your microwave, and puts a pair of flowers that apparently had been in your dining hall all this morning in a China vase. Again, you’re too perplexed to regret your decision.

Somewhere after dinner – which clearly was made by Jimin and was basically the best bite you’ve had in a while – your doorbell rings in the middle of the house’s pre-slumber silence.

You rush to the door before he can do anything. “I’ll go, you stay here.”

When you reach the entrance hall and open the door, you see Taehyung standing in front of the gate, checking impatiently the watch on his wrist.

“Y/N! What’s wrong with you?” he whines through the intercom. “Open up! Didn’t you get my texts?”

God, you’ve just realised that you’ve been so busy with the funeral, the will, and handling this peculiar new inhabitant in your house that you haven’t checked your personal phone since lunch.

“Sorry—”

“Hey, I was mad worried,” he mutters, coming in without needing to be invited. “How did it go? What did the notary say? Did the psycho leave you—?”

Judging by your friend’s sudden silence, you figure he’s just noticed the new face standing in the middle of the hall. Taehyung’s grimace turns from shock to confusion, and from confusion to some kind of sly understanding.

“Sorry,” he chirps, “didn’t know you had company. I can come back later if you want.”

“Actually— I think you should know this.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and offers Jimin his hand for a shake. “Really? Ah, I’m Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you. Wow, your hands are so soft! What lotion do you use?”

“Listen, this is what my ex left for me in his will. His name is Jimin.”

“This? You mean... that he’s his adopted child or something?” your friend retorts with a grimace. “Or a protégé?”

“No, he’s a robot.”

But he just lets out a laugh. “You’re kidding me.”

“God, I’m being serious— Jimin, can you show him?” The android obediently turns around and lifts his shirt, revealing a plug that sinks all the way into his lower back. “See? I know it looks like a fucking joke because I’m still trying to process it all – but he is.”

Switching his eyes from him to you, Taehyung finally grabs your arm and, excusing the two of you, pushes you into the kitchen before closing the door. “Are you nuts? So, they told you your psychotic ex-husband built a robot that you could take as a housekeeper and you fucking brought it in? What is wrong with you—!”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you cut him off. “I know there’s something fishy about this. But I want to find out what.”

“If this is about—”

“Of course it is,” you cry out then and bury your face in your hands.

You need to know – you need to know if he was to blame after all or if you actually became a paranoid who dumped her innocent husband and convinced everyone that he was crazy. You need to know if you just pushed him into such a miserable and unjust fate that he had to end his life.

And perhaps Jimin has the answer.

“Whatever, I’ll keep an eye out on him. Just one creepy thing, Y/N,” Taehyung grunts as he opens the kitchen door to walk out. “One creepy thing and he’s a dead robot.”

You roll your eyes with a half-hearted grin and follow him back into the living room.

Jimin looks up from the floor. “I... I understand that my Master did bad things to you, ma’am— but I swear I’d never hurt you. I’d rather die myself.”

You decide not to answer or react to his puppy eyes. Then your friend claims to be too busy to stay – although he does make you promise that you’ll call him if anything happens – and you see him off with the shadow of Jimin standing behind you.

“Dude, it’s so fucking realistic,” Taehyung grunts before getting in his car.

Once the two of you are alone in the house again, you tell him that you’re going to take a bath to wash away every single ounce of stress from today. He nods with a smile and watches you enter the bathroom; it’s modern and large, your silhouette reflecting weakly on the black and white tiles. A spacious bathtub rests in the middle of the room.

You sit on the marble edge as you watch the steamy water fill up the tub.

When there’s enough water and the ceiling of the room is cloudy with steam, you take off your clothes, drop them onto the floor, and finally, sit down. Just that makes you let out a groan of pleasure, the feeling of the hot water licking on your limbs washing all your worries away.

You’ve always thought that there’s something oddly erotic in bathing – whether it’s just the freedom of being naked in the tub or all the possible ways one can be served and tended to.

After you wrinkle like a raisin, you decide it’s time to come out and get on with your evening; still a bit dizzy from the illegally amazing bath, you stand up to hop out of the tub, with the misfortune of slipping on some pool of water on the floor.

You fall on your backside, twisting your arm in the way.

“Oh, fuck! Shit!”

Somehow you manage to get up and pick up the remaining pieces of your dignity. Still, there’s a throbbing pain in your arm that means you most probably should have it checked.

And, of course, Jimin suddenly bursts in without knocking. “Ma’am? Are you all right—?”

His eyes immediately slide down your figure, fixing on your breasts, and you cover yourself up as an instinct.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” you grunt, ignoring the pulsing pain. “I, uh, slipped and fell. But I’m okay, don’t worry. Could make it out alive...” God, what on earth are you doing? You don’t have to cover up for him, he’s just a pile of circuits and microchips. “I’m fine.”

Slowly – tauntingly almost – you move your hands away from your breasts, feeling a tingle in the pit of your stomach when they softly move forward. You also uncover your crotch, and you’ve never felt so deliciously bare before. Jimin’s eyes flicker down to your perked nipples, he drinks up the sight of your figure for a slight second before he pulls himself back together and holds the towel out for you.

“Can you lift your arm, ma’am?”

You sigh. “No, it hurts too much,” you grunt then as you spin it. Great, now you’ll have to drop by the hospital to check if you broke anything. “I, uh— I need the towel.”

“Allow me.”

After staring into his eyes with defiance for five exhausting seconds, you raise your arms a bit, enough so it won’t hurt, so that Jimin can dry you.

Like the touch of a feather, he runs the towel against the skin of your shoulders first. Delicate, the cotton hugs you, it brushes you softly. Soon, he’s done with your arms and moves down to your breasts. It almost feels like his breath hitches at the contact of your mounds, LED-lit irises fixing on your nipples. If you were a bit more insane, you’d swear there’s some sort of sexual tension between the two of you.

But, of course, you’re not that insane yet.

Jimin was made to resemble a human— and he does, almost perfectly. A fairly good looking one on top of that. So, it’s normal that your realities are mixed up. Your coochie doesn’t know his robocock is made of microchips.

You have to stop yourself from thinking any further about Jimin’s cock. It won’t do you any good.

The contact of his fingers with your nipples, though separated by the towel, sends a shiver down your spine, and you shift in front of him.

Jimin does a very meticulous job as he kneads your breasts and brushes the fabric against them, eyes never leaving the view. For a second he sticks out his tongue, but it seems that – for some reason – he was just wetting his lips.

Then he drops to his knees, and it catches you off guard. Your core pulses at the unfathomable thought of having his tongue lapping at your wet folds, but you’re quick to hush them away.

“I should take you to a hospital, ma’am,” Jimin says softly, eyes looking up at you from between your legs. You can swear his breath feels hot. “Maybe you hurt your arm seriously.”

It’ll be a complete mess if you have, honestly. You need to hand in the sketches of your new work in a couple of weeks. A work that doesn’t even have a plot yet if you may add. So, obviously, you just can’t afford more delays.

Jimin finishes worshipping your legs dry after he asks you to sit down; you actually give it a thought at some point – you could tell him to bend down and eat you out until you’ve soaked his face and no one would be there to judge you. You could tell him to lie on the floor and let you ride his automatic cock until his stupid circuits break down. Not that you wouldn’t absolutely love it.

What a pity you’re too sane to do it.

Jimin shifts uncomfortably between your legs, eyes wandering and roaming around like crazy, before he gets up— and you swear, you swear there’s a slight tent in his crotch. You swear you saw it just now. Is that normal? Is it some kind of reaction programmed into his automatised body or something?

“Okay, let me just get ready and we’ll head out—” You turn around, realising something. “Damn it... Ugh, I forgot I brought the hamper down to the kitchen to do the laundry... Mind dumping it for me? I still have to dry my hair.”

Obviously, he nods with a gentle smile, but his eyes shift to red when he finally has your underwear in his hand; you decide not to give it much importance, though.

Since you asked him to look into your room in case there were any other dirty clothes lying around, Jimin turns the doorknob and slithers in like a shadow. It’s the first time he’s in your room – and the smell is mind-blowing; everything is imprinted with your fragrance, everything has been touched by you, everything has your essence all over it. Oh, he wanted to meet you so bad.

Not as reluctantly as he should, he can’t help pressing your underwear against his nose. It too smells like you.

You were so close just now, your warmth, your wet heat standing right in front of him. It makes something tickle within all his cables and microchips, makes him need and desire you in a way that he’s never felt before. Nothing could’ve ever prepared Jimin for the feeling of finally having you in front of him.

This smell that overwhelms each of his sensors, the fragrance of your skin that he got to learn so well, your luscious lips moving as you’d talk to him, your hands, so soft— you had invaded every single corner of memory he had prepared for when Jimin finally got to meet you in the flesh.

Now, he knows it’s wrong. He knows that giving in to his desire for you is not part of his plan. But God, how can he resist the urge, the yearning?

With a swinging movement, Jimin cups his hardening crotch; the contact is slight, but it’s enough to make him sigh and close his eyes to project images of those sweet memories. He pictures you lying on the mattress as he takes out his cock – with your legs parted and hooked around his head as he dips his tongue into your dripping slit. He wraps his wet muscle around your clit and sucks, making you clench around nothing, making you want him. A whimper escapes from your parted lips, it feels too good not to make a sound. Jimin laps at your folds deeper, wants you to remember the feeling of his tongue against your cunt forever.

The sensors in his cock thrill as he humps his hand, your panties shoved into his mouth.

It’s like a vine creeping up his throat and wrapping around it, would leave him breathless. His system wasn’t ready for this ecstatic craving, he needs to buck his hips faster and squeeze the sensitive tip.

He takes out his cock, craving more. Now fucking into your underwear, his cock slides between the folds, and Jimin comes with a pitiful mewl a second later. His artificial cum soils the already damp fabric with the frustrating, half-hearted feeling that it’s your pussy he’s filling up.

It spurts on his fingers too, so Jimin licks them clean before standing up to throw the panties into the washing machine for once and for all. Excitement bubbles up inside of him.

He was made for loving you, after all.

There are only two things that comfort you right now.

The first one is that, even though you hurt your left wrist, you need only the right one to draw. The second is that Jimin the android is here to do literally everything you want.

From taking out the garbage to cooking to massaging your feet or fixing the wobbly leg of your drawing table, he’s always ecstatic to help. For real, it almost feels as if you’re the one doing him a favour when you let him make your bed. It only gets weird when you need his assistance to do things like getting dressed or taking a bath, but Jimin is a robot, after all; it’s all in your touch-deprived head.

“Yeah, I see what you mean... But I can’t really change that, it’d create a plot hole; there’s a scene in the seventh chapter...”

Right now you’re having an online meeting with your editor, discussing the work you’ve been crushing your head off for. It’s six in the morning, you’re gonna need a whole lot more coffee to get through the rest of the day— and yet there she is, breaking you down like a truck. She’s not one for giving you any slack.

“A plot hole?” she repeats in disbelief. “You’d need a plot for that in the first place.” You let out a sigh. “Look, I’m sure these past few days have taken a toll on you, Y/N, but we need you to come up with something. The agency’s patience has a limit. You could try to spice things up a bit? Work on something more mature—? Maybe this is all just an artistic block.”

You frown, sipping your coffee. “Uh, mature? Meaning?”

“I’m not saying you go write a BDSM meaningless bestseller or anything, but... something mature readers could be interested in. Maybe you’ve just grown out of YA adventures for the time being.”

“Are you asking me to draw porn?” you retort with a snort. “That’s low. You know I like light-hearted stories. Besides, what could I write about? All I’d come up with would be raunchy stuff.”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? Well, boyfriend, partner, fling— whatever.” Tilting your head, you wonder what the hell is she talking about, but then you notice Jimin’s back on your screen as he makes you another coffee. “Can he hear me—? You know, sexual themes can be very profound too.”

As deep as you’d like to, you think to yourself. But you don’t wanna picture Jimin in any kind of story that is in any way related to ‘more mature stuff’, so you just shake your head. That’s enough nonsense for a meeting at six in the morning.

Because well, ‘lonely girl starts living with a sex robot and eventually goes on having kinky sex with it’ sounds lame as fuck. And pathetic. It’s pretty humiliating already to realise you’re in that picture right now, at this stage of your life, in this economy.

“Well, I better get going— I have a meeting in half an hour. We’ll talk later.”

And, beep— the screen goes black, she’s gone.

“Your coffee, ma’am.” Jimin’s gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts; he’s eyeing you intensely as he puts the mug down on the counter, almost as if he’s trying to get something out of you.

“Thanks. Can you pass me the honey—? Don’t bother, I can do it myself.”

Bitch, as if.

As soon as you take the spoon of out the jar, a jolt of pain pierces through your bad arm, and it slips off your fingers. Now they’re sticky with honey and you’ve made a fool of yourself. What a great way to start your already awful morning.

“I—”

Jimin takes your hand, not too roughly as to come off as rude, but rightly enough for you to suspect there’s something going on with him.

His stare is intense, red LED-lit rings piercing through yours in search of something, some reaction, some form of permission. The honey drops down your digits as a warning, now or never. Your heart beats painfully fast in your chest, threatening to burst right through your ribcage and onto his lap.

“Lick it clean,” you rasp. “All of it.”

Like your words are magic, Jimin rushes to part his lips so that you can put your fingers into his mouth. Funnily enough, it’s hot and wet, and you almost think you’ve heard him whimper.

Your core pulses, suddenly empty and craving something to clench around. As he keeps lapping at your digits oh-so thoroughly, you have to rub your thighs together, you hope he won’t notice. Could he, though? Can Jimin understand that he’s turning you the fuck on?

And then it sinks in.

Of course it feels hot and makes you tingle. Of course he acts like this— that is the sole purpose of his existence, to desire whomever he’s programmed to. He’s a robot, a machine. He follows cryptic orders.

But then again, as his tongue swirls around your fingers and he sucks the honey off them, you can’t help feeling the urge to bend him down on the table and ride his cock. Even if that’s pretty much the point, the craving you’re feeling comes off as terribly sad. After all, you just want to part your legs and order him to fill up this emptiness he’s provoked in you.

With a rather jerky move, you pull your fingers out of Jimin’s mouth, and he licks his lips immediately, sultry eyes looking up at you.

“T-that’s enough, you can stop,” you groan.

He gets up with a weak nod, perhaps waiting for you to ask for more, to order him to touch you, to kiss you, to pleasure you— but those words never come out of your mouth, and you get up quietly with your coffee in your hand.

“I’ll be… working in my studio,” you murmur. “Don’t disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You call Yoongi as soon as – you think – you’re out of his hearing range. Not that he’s not a high-tech android perfectly equipped to eavesdrop on your conversation – you doubt he even has to eavesdrop, could perfectly well just be standing in a room on the other side of the house and still able to hear your every word.

He says he’ll show up in maybe half an hour, and you get the chance to work a bit on one of your drafts, although to no avail because your brain is dry, and ask Jimin if he can bring up some more coffee. By the time you’re done, he comes into the room with Yoongi walking behind him.

“How’s your wrist?” he asks while Jimin pours the required sugar, and you hold out your hand. Maybe you’re going crazy, but he’s so indifferent to your conversation that it totally looks like he’s eavesdropping. “Looks much better.”

You nod and glance at the android. “That will be all, thank you,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jimin leaves the two coffees on your table and leaves with a smile.

“Jesus, it’s like having, uh, well— it’s a fucking robot in your house,” he muses. “Are you sure this is still a good idea? Keeping an artificial intelligence made by your looney husband at home.”

You cock an eyebrow. “It was never a good idea, especially when you put it like that.”

“But…?”

There is always a ‘but’ with you, though.

“But maybe Jimin is my only way to find out if… he really did all those things,” you finish with a weak voice.

Threatening your co-workers, blackmailing your boss to get you to work from home more often, keeping your family away from you with lies and ploys. To know that his sobs and pleas were all lies, his way to guilt-trip you into forgiveness. His way into your head and heart, to mess with it, churn and mould it into one of his experiments. To him, you probably were never anything but that – another one of his wicked creations.

Maybe it’s stupid and pathetic that you’re grasping at straws to redeem and excuse him.

When the silence weighs in, Yoongi turns around to take his phone out of his jacket, almost knocking his coffee over. You gasp and get up to save the precious mug from a fatal fall that would have totally crashed it into pieces and immediately sneer at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Be careful!” you cry out. “It’s my favourite mug.”

Yoongi frowns, taking the piece to inspect it with a judging look. “This? It’s literally the tackiest, ugliest mug I’ve ever seen.”

He’s probably referring to the awful pink glitter and the even shinier ‘there’s a chance this is vodka’ written on it. Of course, it’s never vodka, but it sounded so funny it made you chuckle when you walked past the shop during a promenade with your husband. You told him about it after coming home, and even though he didn’t seem too interested, he was listening since you found it lying on the kitchen counter the next morning.

Your husband never mentioned it again, or ever for that matter. It’s one of those little gestures that fill you up with guilt and remorse.

In some way, he did care about you. At least at some point in your relationship.

“Anyways,” Yoongi murmurs then, moving the mug to the centre of the table for its own sake, “it’s up to you. Just make sure to keep an eye on it, and if you notice something weird going on, don’t just think ‘it’s a coincidence, okay?”

Not that you’d ever think that, would you? You consider yourself pretty aware of the risks you’re taking; you just consider them worth it if it means you’ll discover some of the truth.

And then Yoongi frowns, staring at you. “But— why do I have the feeling you weren’t panicking because of that?”

“Okay…” You look down, into the dark liquid in your mug, as you muster the courage and get rid of the embarrassment. “So, let’s say I started to— let’s say I started to, hm, find Jimin too attractive for my own good?” Your voice turns into a whisper, afraid he’ll hear you – that’s literally the last thing you’d want him to know. “Like, seductive.”

“I’m not really surprised. I mean, isn’t Jimin a sex robot? I guess that’s what it was made for, so that just means it works,” he says instead, shrugging his shoulders.

“But then, uh, should I give in?”

You’ve come to the conclusion that, regardless of how you try to act, Jimin is going to turn you on.

Maybe he’s just too good at this, maybe you’re in need of a good fuck, or maybe you are in fact a pervert who finds the fact that he’s a robot a huge turn-on. Whatever it is, you can’t really go on living like this and pretending he’s just a friend who lives and hangs with you.

Jimin’s making dinner right now, a casserole to warm you up despite summer being around the corner. With his back turned to you, you see from your spot on the couch how his shoulders flex and contract as he moves around the kitchen. He stirs the stew and brings the ladle to his lips to check the flavour, groaning in approval.

But some of the stew splashes out and stains his hand, so he turns around to fetch a cloth. Seeing there’s nothing around, he then brings his hand up to his lips to lick it clean. His plump lips move against the skin, tongue flickering. It almost looks like he’s kissing it, and your core tingles.

Work. Yes, you need to focus and work on something productive.

Whenever he’s in your field of vision, you feel the stupid urge to touch him, kiss him, wonder how it would feel if you’d let him touch you at least once. The possibility is so real, just one word, that they terrify you.

Dinner is ready not long after, and the two of you eat in silence. It’s weird that Jimin eats at all, but he’s told you that it’s for the sake of his performance, to make things more natural; it’d be off-putting to just have a human-looking robot standing in front of you and watching you eat for a whole meal, and he’s right.

You have no idea how he eats and digests, though; there’s still so much you don’t know about him yet.

The way he’d put the chopsticks in his mouth, how he’d lick the spoon clean, the eye contact as he’d recreate such human gestures for your pleasure. It all was literally on purpose.

By the time you’re done eating, Jimin is already starting to clear the table. You thank him for making such a delicious dinner and get up to get some work done. Honestly, you need to be alone more than anything; alone to process how fucking turned on you are right now.

“Hell…” You close the door of your studio behind your back and let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s at least get on with the drafts.”

Draft, my ass. It’s barely a bunch of sketches and some oddly timed strips without any plot. You really can’t hand this over to your editor if you want to keep your artistic dignity, but all you can think of are Jimin’s luscious lips, Jimin’s slim body, Jimin’s thighs, Jimin’s voice, Jimin’s smile, Jimin’s eyes shutting tight when he smiles at you. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. You’re a pathetic little thing who’s losing it for the resemblance of a man.

But why does it arouse you at the same time? Why do you get wet when you think about how lewd and low you’re acting? You tell yourself it’s ridiculous, but you’re dying for him to just kneel before your spread legs and eat you out.

Your hand moves on its own, your brain still wandering mindlessly around unlikely situations.

Breasts, thighs, lips, neck, the curve of a lower back sitting down, whispers, soft chuckles filled with secrecy, intimacy in the palm of a hand, kisses down the shoulder, hands venturing to touch and stroke and imprint its marks of adoration on the skin of a loved one.

When you come back, you notice they resemble you and Jimin; this is what you’ve been suppressing for weeks. Craving and longing for his touch.

Maybe this is the perfect way to unwind your frustration. You can let your imagination go wild, reflect on this confusing situation on paper, let it unravel and rebel before your eyes. After all, true artistry comes from honesty, doesn’t it? Aren’t all artists obsessed with their muses in some way? You’ll let Jimin pester your dreams for a bit longer.

You draw some sketches, key settings that you’ll use to close the plot later – if there will be a plot in the first place, of course. That doesn’t have to be entirely bad. Steamy scenes and a playful tug-of-war between guilt, obsession, and pure lust sounds good too.

The way Jimin licked your fingers clean, you know he eats pussy like a champ. He’d be so good, slurping and desperate and thirsty for your juices. Maybe a bit unhinged, hands gripping your thighs because he needs to shove his face in between.

There must be a range of stimulation to set his arousal off, right? Like, there must be things that turn him on, and maybe even a level to get him overwhelmed.

Picturing it your head gets too real when you rub your thighs together, stifling a groan. You need him to touch you, but you need to touch yourself for that matter. Sneaking a hand beneath your pyjama shorts and underwear, you stroke up and down your folds, smearing your wetness before you sink your fingers into yourself.

Legs folded and heels steady on the chair, you swing your hips and help to start working yourself open. It doesn’t feel half as good as you know Jimin’s cock would, but you can only picture him kneeled down and fingering you with his eyes glued to your reactions.

“Fuck— ah, s-shit, so good…” you moan.

Your other hand sneaks beneath your shirt to play with your nipple. Arching your back into your touch, it all gets faster, messier, impatient.

When your thumb comes to rub your clit, it feels harder to keep quiet. Fuck, you really want to have sex. With Jimin, only with him. You want to fuck him against this drawing table until you’ve creamed his cock, see your ex-husband’s talents recreating human pleasure.

With your mouth forming an O and your breast gripped in your hand, you come around your fingers, perhaps making more noise than you should.

As you come down from your high, you stare at the lewd results of your lust: two figures writhing and tangled around each other, bodies seen through the gaze of desire, warm loneliness mixed with the boiling fear of vulnerability. Jimin would never judge this, you realise. He can’t. He was made for loving you – or anyone – to an obsessing point, right now you’re his only one. You’ve fulfilled him.

Pretending nothing happened, you put the draft in a folder and keep the steamier ones in one of your drawers – maybe you’ll show them to your editor someday. Then you go to bed, luckily not running into Jimin.

The next morning, he’s making breakfast by the time you come down, hair done and confident in your outfit. But you overslept today, so you’re in such a hurry that you can only apologise for skipping such a lovely meal, and you run to get in your car. It makes him want to pout, but he’s better than that.

Jimin likes to tidy up around the house when you’re not home. He always feels like an inconvenience when it’s time to clean the room you’re in, so he always makes sure to schedule the cleaning around your activities. His bedroom first, always, and then the kitchen. Then he’ll sort it out through the day.

The food he made this morning goes into the fridge, knowing you’ll pounce it as soon as you’re back. The coffee, however, goes down the drain since it’s pointless to keep it. He’ll make you another one, he’ll make you as many coffees as you want.

One mug, two mugs, three, four, five, s— where your mug? Your favourite one, that is. It’s not with the others, and it’s not in the pile of dirty dishes either. Maybe you had a coffee last night and forgot it somewhere?

After looking in the living room, your bedroom, and the terrace, Jimin makes his way down the corridor.

The door to your studio always feels intriguing and threatening; you’ve never exactly forbidden him from going in, but it’s your den, your personal hideout. It feels like he’s intruding.

As always, the first thing Jimin notices as he walks in is the everlasting chaos lingering in the place. You never bother to tidy up after yourself as you work, and he gets so few chances to work on it that it’s almost always like this; his instincts scream that he gets down to business.

First, the mug.

Yes, he’ll fetch your mug and come back once he’s done with the kitchen.

Jimin catches the scent of coffee floating somewhere in the room, but there’s something else too, a heavier, sweeter smell that grabs his whole attention.

And then it downs on him – that it’s the scent of your arousal. You’ve touched yourself here.

Shaking his head, though, he pushes the thought to the back of his mind and decides that he’ll deal with that later. Now he needs to get on with his chores so that everything will be ready by the time you’re back home.

He finds the missing mug on one of the side tables, but the mess is too icky, he can’t help the urge to clean up a bit around the place, it’s almost an instinct in him. Just clearing the tables and opening the windows, and maybe sweeping the floor, that’s it. The bare minimum to keep a well-balanced level of hygiene.

After working on the side tables and tidying up the cupboard, Jimin moves on to your sketching table.

There are so many paper sheets and drawings scattered, even on the floor, messily pinned to the surface, marks of pencil and eraser crumbs all over the table. He squats to pick them up, dodging the half-opened drawer. He should close it before you hurt yourself.

When Jimin grabs the handle, the view of a naked figure catches his eyes. The natural need to know more, more of you, more of your desires – it all makes him open it completely and grab the paper.

The sketches are too little connected to each other to make any plot out of it, but the female character resembles you.

And the male looks just like him.

There’s this scene where she asks him to take off his shirt and sees the plug on his lower back, exactly where Jimin’s is. Just like him, he’s a robot. The sexual tension between the two of them is palpable. Is this what you feel about him? Tense and guilty and teetering on the edge every time you look at him?

Until he checks the next paper and sees that this one is longer. In fact, the scene takes more than five pages, far more than the other unconnected short scenes.

It all starts with her going to bed, probably picking up after a stressful moment. She’s wearing nothing but a flimsy tee and panties, the focus on the shape of her breasts too delicious and obvious to ignore. Yours bounce like that too, so naturally.

The android opens the door and stands in the middle of the dark. Somehow, it doesn’t feel creepy, just— anxious. He can read the mixed feelings in his stare, the same guilt consuming her.

He probably just walks up to her resting body to admire her, maybe smell her scent. A speech balloon pops up, he’s thinking about how he knows she wants to be pleased, how her boyfriend left her wanting this evening after parting ways. He doesn’t touch her like he could, too lazy, too stupid, too clumsy.

His Master was the same – obsessed with you but for all the wrong reasons. A projection of his hurt human ego and the urge to control you because everything else was out of his reach.

The male character now starts to nuzzle her neck, take in her fragrance. Playful hands sneaking under the clothes, she sighs and turns around, splayed on the bed for him. He immediately cups one of her breasts and takes her nipple into his mouth, sucking with hunger.

She locates the pleasure in her dreams and remains asleep, much to his frustration.

His hands roam down her waist and hips, worshipping her tender flesh and naked thighs. With a trail of peppered kisses down her stomach, he ends up crouched between her legs, tongue hanging out before he licks down her clothed folds. She groans, almost waking up, and it doesn’t take too long of having her cunt lapped at for her to do it.

What— what are you doing?

Let me please you, Master. I beg you. I know how wet you are, I could touch you in ways he never could. I’m a servant to your pleasure.

Jimin automatically drops the papers to shove them back into the drawer. Your scent is still heavy in the sensors of his nose, and the memory of your arousal against his tongue has not gone away – and never will.

And now he knows you want him as much as he wants you.

His system reacts instantly, the idea of you desiring him activating every mechanism as his body warms up and his cock starts getting hard. Buried in your cunt, swallowed by your pretty lips, pumped between your fingers; there are so many things he wants you to do with him. And the things he’d do to see your face scrunched in pleasure, gasps and groans coming out of your pretty lips; the possibilities feel so real now, he can almost touch this new reality.

“Oh—”

The fake flesh twitches when Jimin sneaks his hand under his underwear and wraps it around his cock. It’s leaking so much already, his Master built him well.

Paced and quiet at the beginning, he soon starts to buck his hips into his first, the friction never enough. Jimin pictures it’s you he’s fucking, that you let him sneak into your bed, wishing for him to touch you and lap at your folds until you’re coming. He doesn’t know yet how his sensors will react to the warmth of an actual person, but he knows yours will be heavenly.

Filling you up, peppering kisses all over your skin while you stroke his head and praise him for being so good – it will all be just as promised, the greatest fulfilment of his existence. You want Jimin to do it, and he’s dying to oblige.

“Ngh— f-fuck,” he gasps. “Ma’am, Y/N, fuck, fuck…”

You’re so beautiful, breasts full and fleshy, hardened peaks when it’s cold. He’d worship your hips and waist, nature made human, finding completion in the welcoming embrace of your legs around his hips. His cum would leak out and drip down your thighs, he could fuck you again and again until you’re satisfied, until you’re content with him.

His hand is now moving at a speed that will soon bring him to climax. With the other resting on the table, Jimin pumps his cock, millions of images in his system.

The dirty sketches in the half-opened drawer stare back at him.

“Oh fuck, there, m-ma’am,” Jimin whimpers and squeezes the tip, “fucking Christ—!”

White, creamy cum spurts out and lands on the table, on his tummy. Some of it even ends up splattered on the floor. Once is enough, he thinks as he forces his hand to stop, riding out his orgasm.

His greedy sensors begin to relax at the lack of stimulation, and Jimin tucks his cock back into his pants so that he can clean up his mess. He came to tidy up and ended up making it all dirtier – what would you think? Would you punish him? It was a mess, after all; dirty, messy, naughty.

But you want him. And you want him now.

“To be honest, Y/N, I wasn’t completely sure you’d even show up, but this is… This is brilliant! Hot, mature, dark, defiant—”

You glow at your editor’s praise, ignoring Yoongi’s judging look. Unlike her, he does know that there is an actual android living in your house whom you find particularly hot. But he’s not going to say anything, not when one of your projects has finally got her approval.

“I’m gonna keep this and hand it to my chief, okay?” she says with a smile.

You shrug. “Sure… I, uh, drew some steamier stuff, but I didn’t bring it here since I didn’t know how you’d react,” you say then, bringing the mug to your lips but noticing it’s empty already.

“Oh! I’ll talk it out with the publisher and give you a heads-up, how does that sound?” your editor continues. “It all depends on the level of explicit content they’ll want to keep for the work, but honestly, it sounds hot as fuck, so I’m sure you’ll be able to explore the topic wholeheartedly. Now—! Take the rest of the day off and go home, get a latte, take a bubble bath, whatever.”

She then grabs her stuff and storms off her office, claiming to have dozens of meetings and things to do. Which is probably true.

“I really can’t believe it – oh, you’re such a whore.”

“Hey!” you groan. “You were the one who told me that I should just… give in.”

“So, did you?” Yoongi asks, collecting the empty mugs and fetching all the papers her boss left behind herself.

“Not with him, but yeah, kinda. I mean, I found some ways to unwind,” you simply reply and help him clean up. “I’ve decided that this new outburst of ideas is too precious to waste.”

Instead of nodding or something, Yoongi just scoffs at you. As if that was the reason. But it’s helping you get over your artistic block, which is good for his job too, so he’s not going to complain too much. Besides, you look more at peace, and that is pretty much all that matters.

It’s almost lunchtime. You decide to call Taehyung, and the three of you meet at a nearby restaurant to have a bite together.

While you are an author and Yoongi is an Assistant Editor, Taehyung is part of the creative team. He designs covers and similar stuff for novels, helps you come up with colour schemes and pallets, and really is overall the eye everyone needs to make things shine their brightest. You met him and Yoongi long before you met your husband, and they’ve been with you ever since.

“The weather is so fine lately!” the youngest exclaims. “Why don’t you throw a barbeque?”

“At my place?”

Taehyung nods and looks at Yoongi for support. “Yeah, why not? Just make the robot do it.” You frown immediately at his words. “What is it now?”

“The android has a name, you know,” you reply.

“And why would that matter? It’s a robot, just a pile of circuits and microchips,” he mumbles, too shocked at your offence. “Even if it looks like a human, it doesn’t make it one, Y/N.”

You don’t know why, really, but it infuriates you to hear him talk about Jimin like that. Maybe you’ve gone a bit too far humanising him— it. Humanising it. But it feels so real when you look at… his eyes, his smile, his lips, his button nose. Something crafted with beautiful skill.

While your husband had made you a monster, he had made Jimin to be a piece of art.

Then, how could you not be angry at Taehyung’s shallow, hurtful words? Whatever love and sorrow were created with, Jimin and you were made from it.

“We all have our coping mechanisms, don’t we?” you finally say, shrugging. Yoongi chuckles next to you. “I don’t see why I can’t live a lie like that until it blows up in my face. Maybe you remember I’ve lusted after way worse men.”

Men, that’s the thing – Jimin is not a man.

Taehyung frowns. “Uh, I thought you originally wanted to pry secrets out of it about your ex.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I think— you’re mixing things up,” he sighs then as he starts playing with his fingers. “Maybe you should get back in touch with your therapist and discuss it with her? – you’re not going to listen to me anyway.”

You decide not to dwell on the subject any further; you want some peace of mind for when you come home to Jimin. He’s always such an expert when it comes to your gestures, can pick up any mood swing in an instant. It was scary at first, but now you’ve come to feel astonishingly natural about it. Maybe you even find it soothing.

It’s past ten when you get home. Not too drunk, maybe a little tipsy. At most – you swear.

Tiptoeing your way through the entrance hall, heels hanging from your hands, you hear the notification sound and take out your phone. You let out a giggle at Taehyung’s idiotic text, but suddenly you’re bumping your face on the wall and letting out a groan of pain.

Just as your wrist is finishing to heal, now you’re hurting your nose? Great.

You whimper a bit more on the floor before you get up and go on your way, still rubbing the bridge of your nose with a frown.

After managing to do your skincare routine and change into your pyjamas – or rather a tee and a pair of panties because Jesus Christ it is hot – you tuck yourself into your bed with a smile, glad to finally find yourself ready to sleep. Not a single worry or concern in your head, just the utter joy of knowing that tomorrow you won’t have to face any troubles.

And just like that, you fall asleep. And as always, one thought goes to your mysterious housemate.

He’s all over you, hot breath fanning against your cleavage.

With his hands snuck under your shirt and kneading your breasts, Jimin begins to play with one of your nipples and profusely watches your reactions, hoping to see you wake up any time soon.

You, however, only groan quietly and arch your back, thighs rubbing together. He’s not getting concerned only because you’re still breathing and you don’t look too pale. Jimin leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and rucks up the fabric, engrossed by the sight of your bare breasts.

He wants to touch every corner of your body, but he wants you to be awake to enjoy it.

Slowly, Jimin makes his way down to the waistband of your underwear. Your smell is so sweet, so intoxicating, each of his sensors is going wild at the mere thought of tasting you; your arousal against his tongue as he laps at your folds, your breasts bouncing as you arch your back, it all makes his fingers tighten on your hips. This desire to melt into your body is consuming him.

Jimin doesn’t need air, but he feels breathless.

His fingertips stroke your clothed folds, feeling them warm already. Arousal soaks the fabric, you’d welcome him so easily. One word from you and he’ll be on his knees ready to pleasure you.

“Hm…” you suddenly let out, turning your head around. Your hips buck, chasing his touch.

This is exactly what you wanted him to do, he thinks as he pulls down your underwear. He will fulfil your fantasy tonight.

As Jimin finds room between your thighs, you stir on the bed, pretty much unbothered for now. You’ll wake up to ecstasy, he’ll make sure you do. The firmest path to your love, he’ll carve it with his teeth if it’s necessary; with his tongue shoved between your legs as he helps his Master find complete bliss.

The trail of thoughts has left him a bit agitated by the time his lips meet your skin. Jimin plays with your inner thighs, kissing the flesh, teasing his sloppy way to your folds while his hands stroke up and down your waist. The sight of your wet heat welcomes him.

His tongue parts your lips, and he grips your butt to spread your legs, giving him better access. He wants you to drown him between your legs, make him yours, claim him. Sucking, licking, lapping at your folds, slurping and flicking his tongue; Jimin watches you move on the mattress once again, a soft moan escaping from your lips. Your thighs hug his head so nicely, and your hips rock against his mouth in a greedy search for that wet, warm pressure.

“What—?” Your eyes widen at the sight of Jimin’s face shoved against your cunt, and you pull your hips away from him in a jerk. He doesn’t try to stop you, crawling instead on top of you. “What the fuck, Jimin!” you let out. “Get away from me!”

You push his face away with your palm, and he backs off without complaint. Jimin ends up sitting on his knees – so poignant and obedient you almost pity him.

His face is still soaked with your arousal. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I thought—”

Jimin cuts himself off, and you’re surprised to see that you’ve managed to leave him speechless. Then, seeing you’re not showing any reaction besides your bated breath, he crawls back to you, and you lie back, unsure about what to do. What is there to do now? He seems insistent, and your core is still pulsing, eager to be pushed over the edge.

“I want to pleasure you, ma’am,” Jimin murmurs, staring down at you with his intense red LED-lit eyes.

They’re almost heart-shaped, seeing the adoration he’s looking at you with. It makes you rub your thighs together again.

Your eyes flicker to the red switch behind his ear for a second.

“Why?” you ask with a thin voice.

This time he nuzzles your neck but you don’t mind. Instead, you have to resist the urge to move your hand from his face up to the crown of his head and pet him. You want to know why would he decide to sneak into your bed and— well, eat you out.

“I… saw the things you drew,” Jimin says, and your cheeks heat up in a mortified blush. “So, I thought they were… us.”

“W-well, you thought— you thought wrong, Jimin—”

He nods weakly and lowers his eyes, perhaps unable to keep eye contact now that he’s failed in his task. You have no idea what his ‘brain’ works like. “Yes, ma’am, I see it now.”

Was it wrong of him? Of course it was. Have you been wishing that he – or you for that matter, were you any braver – would do it? Absolutely yes. Jimin has finally surpassed the line you were even afraid of admitting it was there, and you feel… free; to touch him, to let him touch you, to kiss and be kissed. Maybe this will be your final downfall into madness, so God, let it be spectacular.

“That’s not the answer I was expecting,” you muse, suddenly grinning. “What do you say when you’ve been bad, Jimin?”

His eyes look into yours in search of some kind of hesitation, of some signal that he might be taking your actions the wrong way – again. But you’re staring up at him, a confident look on you, hands stroking the back of his hair as they move to play with the switch.

His body trembles.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s better.” Your smirk widens, leaving the switch behind to stroke the back of his hair. “Good boy.”

Good boy. Good boy. His whole body goes into overdrive, limps tightening to bend down for a kiss. Good boy. But you don’t want him there, not yet, so you beckon at him to keep going further down, and Jimin gets it instantly, nestling his head between your legs without a question; you’re still dripping wet from his previous ministrations.

His laps at your nub turn sloppy as his flat tongue moves long and slow with broad strokes, there’s saliva running down the corner of his lips again. Jimin wants to savour your wetness until it’s recorded in every chip inside his head.

“Of fuck, oh— Jimin, J-Jimin,” you groan. “Shit! There, just like that—”

This is so much better now that he can hear your voice.

Your sweet voice he’s fantasised so much about, every night since he recalls his own existence. It’s been you, always you, you all over.

With your thighs fluttering around his head, Jimin opens his mouth and starts fucking you with his tongue – a perk about being a robot is that his tongue never tires, like, ever. And he keeps shoving his pointed tongue inside of you again and again, until he pulls away; his chin is soiled with a filthy mix of your arousal and his saliva, whatever that’s made of.

Making eye contact, he slips a finger inside. You’re stretched out enough for it to slide in easily, especially since you’re dripping wet. His tongue keeps flickering at your swollen nub.

“Come up here.”

You finally join for a hard kiss, lips crushing in desperation. The contact leaves you both trembling, eager, expectant. He’s still wearing his pants as he nestles his hips against yours, face buried between your exposed breasts.

You take his hand in yours to pace it, and he gets the clue instantly, curling his finger inside of you.

Knuckles deep, Jimin keeps pumping them in and out carefully, eyes fixed on your face to see what makes you grunt and moan. You tug at his hair, sensors throbbing in excitement at the roughness, when the knot in the pit of your stomach tightens.

“I want you to make me cum,” you say then, staring into his glowing eyes.

“Yes, Master.”

He fingers you while you kiss him, brushing lips together, sucking on his tongue, fingertips massaging your dripping walls and rubbing your sweet spot.

It all feels so real to the touch, you’re slowly sinking into a different world; a world where he’s human and you’re cradling a person in your arms, a world where your heart doesn’t bleed at any resemblance of love. A world where it doesn’t scare you. And it’s all Jimin, hovering over you like a dutiful shadow.

“Master,” he moans against your lips. “F-fuck, I was— I was made for loving you, Master.”

And you were made for being loved by me.

Jimin’s lips clumsily brush against yours, your tongues rolling over each other in a sloppy kiss. Pleasure grips your guts tightly, you can’t help but wish it was his cock instead working you open. Fucking you into what’s probably the best orgasm of your life.

Pleasure seeps into you with a shiver, starting from the crown of your head and taking over the rest of your body. You call for him in a whisper, and Jimin replies chanting your name like it’s a prayer. The way he adores you just pushes you further into your approaching climax. The coiling tension in your stomach engorges and gets bigger, you chase your orgasm against his fingers, his thumb stroking your swollen clit until your guts tighten.

“Shit, J-Jimin, you’re— you’re doing so well,” you groan and sink your teeth into the fake flesh of his neck. “I’m close, I’m close—”

Your hips stutter as they thrust up against his fingers, and Jimin goes faster, trying to separate the delicious sting of your love bite to focus on his arm’s motions. They have to be perfect, exact, and precise to bring you to your climax.

But he lets out a moan of pleasure when your walls clench around his finger; the memories of your warmth around him are foggy and delirious.

His body feels boiling against yours, machinery melting. Whatever his conscience is like, it’s slowly vanishing into pleasure, a mellow taste of honey on his tongue. It’s sweet and intoxicating, just like your touch – just like your hands, crawling right now to his neck to anchor him over you.

Then you go still underneath him, under his cautious stare, and with a grin, you climax around his fingers. You groan his name and claim his lips again, to which he obliges, of course. Your skin is sweaty, and you’re fighting to catch your breath while he worships your body in the afterglow of your orgasm.

Jimin peppers little pecks down your neck and chest with adoration. “Thank you, Master, thank you, thank you—”

Now that you’ve quenched your sickly thirst for the robot, you’ll go on living your normal life. No more nightly encounters, no more delirious feelings of tenderness. You will exist normally from now on.

You’re a liar. A filthy, wicked liar.

Never again, you had told yourself after that night. Letting Jimin eat you out in your own bed until you came not once but three times was one thing. Letting him sleep next to you as he recharged was a bit over the line but still acceptable.

And now here you are, sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs spread open and Jimin’s warm tongue shoved into your cunt. This wicked tryst has been going on for days now, seems to be your chosen pastime ever since. Any time you run into each other at the house, it’s like you get instantly wet and feel that familiar tingling between your thighs, and he’s not even a bit less reactive to you. Whoever reacts first doesn’t matter, the other will act accordingly; it’s as if you were addicted to each other.

Jimin knows your body like the palm of his hand. Knows where to touch you to make you tremble, knows what to say to fuel you. Always so eager to please you.

It’s like your hormones are constantly bubbling up, boiling inside your body pending his presence.

You’re practically fucking Jimin’s mouth with your tongue now. Fingers tangled in his hair, you want him as close as he may be. The feeling of his wet tongue on your cunt still lingers like a throbbing memory.

“Jimin,” you whisper against his lips.

His hands are on the counter, grounding himself. “Yes, Master?” he replies then, following your lips in another kiss.

“You’ve been enough of a tease, don’t you think?” you ask with an arched eyebrow, and Jimin tilts his head to the side, rather confused. “I want your cock now.”

You don’t know why, but you've yet to try him out. All of him, that is. Jimin has proved himself to be worthy of your body and trust, able to worship with each part of his. Except, for some reason, his cock – but you’ve started to suspect why he’s so reluctant to do it.

As Jimin begins to fumble with his pants, his eyes are fixed on yours; it’s the first time you notice him unsure about something, and it makes you shrink in doubt. Your hands find rest on his.

“You didn’t like it,” he murmurs then, “with him.”

How he is aware of that you don’t know. Although he doesn’t refer to him as his Master anymore, you’ve taken over that title now. For Jimin, that sweet, evergreen word will be chained to you forever, and he will honour it. Engraved in his hands, in the pad of his fingers, in the tip of his tongue as he worships you.

You cup his cheeks, stroking them with your thumbs. “But you’re not him, are you?”

In a way. You’d be repulsed.

Jimin’s silence confuses you, but you decide not to dwell on it, and so you pull him in for another kiss; you run your tongue over his lips, and he parts his luscious lips to let you in.

With a mischievous grin, you jump off the counter and face Jimin as you play with the waistband of his trousers, making him step back until the two of you slowly fall on the couch. Once you take his cock out, you raise your hips, finally about to feel him.

And then a ringing noise interrupts.

His LED-lit eyes turn into a devious yellowish tone when you pull back to pick up the phone with a groan.

Jimin knows that voice, has seen the guy’s face – Kim Taehyung, the little shit who would hit on you all the time when you were at work. The memories of his face are tinted with an angry red he hasn’t even put there himself, bloody-like and rabid. But the mere thought enrages him, and he doesn’t understand why.

“I know it’s at short notice, and it sucks, but my boss wants us to get at it as soon as possible…”

Seeing Taehyung is still talking, you mouth at Jimin ‘work’ so that he knows you’ll hang up as soon as possible. You love your friend, you really do, but can’t he understand that you’re off work right now?

“Okay, sure, see you. Bye—”

The call has barely finished when he grabs your phone to throw it away. When you turn to demand an explanation, a shiver takes over your body. It’s a feeling of dread, one you’re familiar with.

“Don’t go,” he begs, nuzzling your neck. “Stay home with me, please.”

Warm tears wet your neck, his arms tangled around you. You’re unable to move right now, but you’re not fighting his grip off either, too confused; not aware of the storm of screeching thoughts passing by in his mind, mixed with alien feelings that are rooted deep inside of him.

You’re staring down at him dumbfoundedly when Jimin pulls back. There’s an instinct inside of you screaming to get away, but instead, you wipe his tears.

He grabs his head and looks down with his eyes closed. “I’m— I’m sorry, Master. I-I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” he whimpers then, but it doesn’t feel like he’s talking to you when Jimin starts hitting his forehead. “Forget it! Just forget it, forget it, forget it!”

Your chest feels heavy, and your body feels cold, the heat of the moment nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, you get off of him to pull your pants back up, and he does the same, avoiding your eyes. He doesn’t need to know he’s let you down right now.

But this time, though, you feel bad for him; Jimin is sobbing in a way you’ve heard no one cry before. It’s the purest form of self-inflicted pain you’ve seen, and maybe you only remember your own laments to sound like that. When you’d wake up and look in the mirror just to greet the pitiful reflection of a thrown-away doll.

You coo at him as you leave a kiss on his wet lips. “Shh, it’s okay.” Had it been another person, you wouldn’t be feeling this warmth in the pit of your stomach – but you are, and you want to sooth Jimin’s pain. “I know you didn’t mean it. Just don’t do something like this again.”

The main difference is, your Master never apologised. He always thought that, whatever he’d take with his deadly hands, he was entitled to it. The world owed him adoration.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, nodding.

“How about I turn you off while I’m at work?” you ask him then as you rake your nails through his hair.

“Please… I want to rest.”

With a gentle flick of your fingers, you turn Jimin off for the first time. Watching his body shut down is almost like watching him fall asleep, and you smile sweetly at the sight.

He probably won’t get cold, but you cover him with a cosy blanket anyways. And so you walk out of the house, grabbing your purse on your way. A meeting with the creative department doesn’t sound like fun right now, but actually, you could use some work to blow off this weird feeling inside of you.

Because, how on earth does he know those things? You’ve never told anyone that your ex-husband used to be a complete ape with his cock. Not on purpose, you hope, but Jesus Christ, you’d always have to limp your way to the bathroom afterwards.

Also, he’d always make you dry as hell.

And even though he wasn’t loving, nor a good lover, nor sensitive or caring, he had you in the palm of his hand. You can’t recall a more humiliating feeling than remembering you were in love with him.

The meeting goes, well, just as you expected – boring and way too long. Could’ve perfectly been just an email. But the team is happy to see your project go on, and you’re happy too. In fact, it’s done its job so well that you only remember about Jimin’s odd behaviour today the moment you step back into the house.

Jimin is sitting on the couch, right where you left him.

Looking cherubic and beautiful, you stare at his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, his nose, and wonder where did your ex-husband get the inspiration to make him.

You lean in for a kiss on his inert lips as your thumb strokes the switch behind his ear. Naturally, his body doesn’t react in any way to your presence, and you let out a chuckle of frustration, finally turning him back on.

His eyes flutter a bit before he looks at you.

“Hi there, angel.”

Jimin smiles softly at you, nuzzling your hand in search of warmth. How sweet he is, he’s nothing like him. Not a bit.

He claims your cuddles with a gentle tug at your hand, and you sit next to him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. You rake your nails through his hair as you stare into the nothingness, too engrossed in your thoughts.

However, you’re starting to feel weirded out about just how much Jimin knows about you; why would your ex ever tell him about your problems in bed, for example? Judging by his reaction to the call, did he also talk about that time when you flirted with Taehyung perhaps a bit too much, before you confessed you were married and became friends? You don’t think your husband knew about all those things, let alone told Jimin about them.

So, why does he know, then?

What else does he know that you can’t even fathom? Your chest tingles at the prospect of already being bare before him; there are so many things you still feel ashamed of, you don’t want him out of all people to… know.

Besides, you still have no idea why. Actually, you don’t know a thing about Jimin, about his origins, about how or why he was created like this. You had sworn and promised in the past that you had decided to keep him to find out about all of that, and really, you’ve just forgotten about it.

“I just remembered” – you suddenly get up from the couch, and Jimin pouts at the sudden lack of warmth – “I left some sketches in the office. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Will you be back for dinner?” he asks, nonetheless.

“Yes, of course.”

Then you get up to fetch your purse in silence. Once you have everything you need, you wave your hand in goodbye and head to the entrance hall under Jimin’s consuming stare; it’s not watchful, but it really is intense. You feel it burning on your nape.

“Master?” You turn around when he calls you again. “You’re not mad at me about earlier, are you? I don’t know what happened to me, I’m really sorry… I was made to make you happy.”

Made to make you happy, made for loving you. You, you, you. It’s always you with him, like you’re his world. It only makes you frown, but you help the urge and smile instead, wishing it will ease his worries.

“Don’t be, I understand—”

“I’m not like him,” he suddenly says, and you feel cold all over.

“What?” You try to put on a calm face, but what he just said really weirded you out. “W-what do you mean?”

Jimin gets up and walks up to you, gently tugging at your arms. “I’m not like him, I would never be. He was a despicable monster, a-and I know I’m not even human, but— I love you, Master, I love you better than he ever could.” Then he kisses you, and you can’t help kissing him back. “I’ll do better, I promise. I won’t cross you again.”

His words make your stomach churn, but you don’t say anything; you’ve got some heavy work ahead. So, you peck his lips one more time and say goodbye, leaving him standing in the entrance hall all on his own.

It’s luminous, with a sickly white light, just as you remember it. Sterile, made of steel, and eternally silent. Few places give you the creeps like your ex-husband’s lab.

Although the place is not huge, you’re so unfamiliar with it that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with. He surely must have kept a journal of his experiments, right? He was always so keen on writing on paper— but maybe they took it away already.

It’s so weird to think that he’s dead now, though – you always thought him so powerful, so eternal, that death was never in your mind. How could it be when he was the ruler and commander of your life? What would you be without him, you pitiful butterfly? Always his angel, his pretty little thing, his loving wife he was so in love with.

And now he’s dead. Like a pathetic, weak human, he’s dead.

Instead of feeling sad or uneasy about it, it makes you feel good. It feels so, so good to know that he’s rotting somewhere. You hope it hurt.

You move around the room, looking at your surroundings; plans and sketches scattered on tables that no one has bothered to clean, half-made robotic arms, and dozens of inventions displayed on shelves like they’re his prizes.

But contrary to what you expected – or not since you always knew he was a control freak – you find his journals piled up and sorted out by date on one of the shelves at the end. If you remember correctly, Mrs Im said he started working on Jimin five years ago. That is, three and a half years before your divorce, so you look for the notebooks with that year written on them.

“Aha! Gotcha.”

You start revising the first journal, turning the pages as your eyes fly over the letters. Finally, you find the first notes; he mentions a folder with the official project information, but you will look for it later. What you read is more or less what his lawyer told you, the research of android models for sale as sex products.

It feels a little strange to read it on paper, so cold, when Jimin’s presence is so warm.

However, something catches your attention out of a sudden. You read it again to make sure you didn’t misinterpret it, but it’s pretty hard to do it:

The experiments are running smoothly: thanks to my memories, Jimin reacts to basic stimulation, and his sensors work well. Today it hardened only by smelling one of Y/N’s pieces of underwear. It will be a success if I manage to set his arousal on with vaguer objects or smells.

You turn the pages, being met only with shallow comments on the experiment. But you want to see if he mentions you again. What did he mean, ‘his memories’? How could that be possible? And why would he use you out of all people to test Jimin’s… sensors, or whatever he’s talking about?

To check next day: refractory period. Just when I was about to see if Jimin recovers faster when the stimulation is linked to her, she came down to announce her mother had just arrived. I ought to continue the experiment from there.

I hate that old woman; I wish I could get rid of her forever. I know she talks shit about me to Y/N.

Your eyebrow immediately arches at the comment; for years he would cry about how your mother hated him, and it turns out the feeling was mutual. Honestly, at this point, you’re not even surprised.

For the time being, you want to focus on processing the fact that somehow your crazy ex-husband managed to turn his memories into chips, or whatever. You don’t have a clue about these things. To insert them into Jimin and, well, you guess, customise his sexual arousal? Does that even make sense?

Jimin seems to have taken on an odd behaviour lately. It follows Y/N around the house but is aware it must not be seen. It knows of conversations the two of us have had without being present, and even of things not even I knew about; today Y/N showed up with a new mug and thanked me for buying it, but it was not me.

I have also noticed a growing aggressiveness towards me. More verbal than physical, but I am studying the possibility of speeding up the selling.

Suddenly breathless, you limply put the notebook back on the table.

So, it wasn’t him. None of it was, probably. The mug, or the flowers, or those cute notes he’d leave on the fridge wishing you a good day – they had all been Jimin’s. And suddenly you feel so, so fucking relieved.

He had been the problem all along. Not even Jimin, who had his memories, had his wickedness. Jimin was sweet, so he could’ve been too; he just didn’t want to.

And that is all you needed to know.

Then you realise you’ve reached the end of the notebook. You grab the next one, which covers a year and a half and covers your divorce. This is probably the only chance you’ll ever get to know what he was really feeling back then. Or ever, for that matter.

It seems that my memories are a bigger influence on Jimin’s personality than I first thought. It has become obsessed with my wife as if it was in love with her.

I know it was the plan all along, but I cannot help wondering if I have taken it too far.

I have not been fighting to keep her with me so that thing will ruin my chances of staying with her.

You smile fondly as you read it. However, as your eyes reach the last paragraph, you frown with disgust at his words. How could he speak like that of his own creation? Oh, what a heartless man. You cannot help but pity him. A body filled with hatred and fear and pain, he was a good for nothing.

This week I will be conducting no experiments as I ought to see my lawyer.

You quickly turn the page again.

This time, you’re startled as you observe the handwriting; it’s messy, angry, written so strongly that the pen almost ripped the paper. The page underneath is marked, the letters never to be forgotten.

I hate him. I hate him, and I hate her. And I love her. Y/N is mine, Jimin is mine, they are both mine, yet I cannot make them do what I think it’s best.

She fucking left. I would make her such a masterful thing if she’d only let me.

But there’s always that beastly creature stopping me.

Stopping him, how? What did he mean by that?

The next notes don’t feel too interesting; he doesn’t even sound like he’s enjoying himself anymore. The comments are technical, and he noted down some of his thoughts about the companies that had offered to buy Jimin.

But then you realise something.

If he wanted to sell – and it sounded like he was pretty confident about his decision – why would he leave Jimin to you in his will? If he wanted you to stay as far from him as possible.

You’re done with the notebook, so you grab the next one. It seems to be the last one, too; there are no more journals in sight, and it looks like most of the pages of this one have never been touched before. The spine doesn’t look too used either. Maybe he finished the project quickly before he even had the chance to write much?

There’s no way out. Every time, it manages to catch up on me. Wherever I go, it knows. Whatever I do, it knows. It will be standing at the end of the corridor, looking at me, grinning like it knows my darkest secrets. I cannot get out of the house without it knowing, it knows everything. I’m sure it’ll kill me.

If I die, it killed me.

My love, if you ever read this, please know that he is worse than I will ever be. If you’re reading this and I’m gone, know that his hands are dripping with blood, not mine. I know I’m sick, but so are you. We were sick in love, were we not? Loving each other until our souls rotted.

He’s different. He has no soul, no sickness. He doesn’t understand your darkness the way I do.

It makes me full, like an endless cycle. There is no birth without blood, but for him, there was no blood, no guts. He’s as human as I will make him, ripped out from my ribs.

His love is my sickness. Remember it if you ever love him back.

“Master?”

For the first time in a while, you’re terrified to hear his voice.

Turning around, you see Jimin standing at the top of the stairs. You flinch when he takes a step down, so he stops altogether and waits for a reaction, a word, a sound – anything from you, something to let him know you don’t despise him.

“Did you follow me here?” you ask with a frown, too afraid not to be crossed.

“I was worried,” he murmurs. “You left so suddenly you forgot your phone at home… A-and I did think that perhaps you were lying and that you’d be coming here instead.”

And he was right, in a way. But that doesn’t give him the right to follow you. That’s practically stalker behaviour. You’re starting to get the creeps, so Jimin goes all the way down to you and gently takes your hands. You don’t know if you don’t move out of fear or because you’re too comfortable with his touch.

Your voice comes out weakly. “Did you really kill him?”

“Yes,” he says with a smile. “I— I did it for you, Master. He erased my memories, I had to do something. He wanted to take me away from you.”

“So, you killed him,” you repeat, rather to yourself. Nodding slowly, you pull your hands away from his and turn around, needing some air to sort out your thoughts. “Because— because you wanted to stay with me? Why?”

You already know the answer. You don’t believe it yet, you don’t think it possible – but you know what words you’ll hear.

“Because I love you.”

Jimin seems ashamed of it, as he avoids your eyes and decides to stare at the floor instead. Like a boyish love confession on a sunny school day, your delusional body warms up the idea, but he can’t, can he? He can’t love you.

“Jimin,” you call softly, and finally, he looks up from the floor, “when you look at me, do you see me? Me, as a human, as a woman, as a creature? Do you even understand all of that?”

And then he smiles, and your chest blooms. “Yes – and you’re fascinating.”

All those years watching you, sneaking glances of you walking around the house, so close but still so far away. He’d dream of you, dream of you in his arms, him in yours, sharing kisses, pleasuring you the way his Master could not. He’d be careful, he’d be loving, he’d listen to each of your words.

“He gave me this body and all the cables and everything that keeps me moving, but you, Y/N— you gave me a conscience! You made everything make sense! You made me human,” Jimin claims in a whisper.

You can’t help but frown. “But he deleted them. How can you still remember me?”

You’re getting an answer for each of your questions, but somehow, they all seem only to leave you even more confused.

“He didn’t,” Jimin rushes to say, and then he goes on to explain further, seeing your puzzled face, “Not all of them, at least. I didn’t let him. I wanted to be with you, I didn’t want to… forget you.”

“Why?”

“Because after I got to know you through his memories I realised that, if there’s any person on this world that could accept me despite what I am, that was you. I thought you could love me.”

Letting out a sigh – of desperation, tiredness, love, you have no idea – you cup his cheeks and purse your lips. Do you love him? You’re not sure. Your stomach churns and turns at the mere idea of losing him, but can you really love him?

His words echo in your head like poison. His love is my sickness. Remember it if you ever love him back.

But is it, really? Jimin’s love feels soft. It doesn’t feel smothering or drowning. He loves you just the way you want to be loved. You don’t feel owned by him, on the contrary. Actually, you think Jimin loves you despite his husband’s sickness. That must be why he apologised when it took over him this evening at Taehyung’s call.

The sickness shrieked, the love apologised and learned.

“I know they aren’t mine,” he continues, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I know it wasn’t me you fell in love with, whom you slept with, the person you decided to spend the rest of your life with. I know it was him all along, but I—” Jimin nuzzles your neck in a desperate search for your warmth. “I can’t help it! I was made for loving you!”

But instead of answering, you tilt his chin up and kiss him.

“Living— living with the memories,” he continues as you leave pecks on the corner of his lips, “of your touch, of your warmth, your love.” Jimin’s arms tangle around your waist. “Loving you but forced to stay away – it was torture, Master.”

His breath feels warm against you, his hands feel hungry around you. His red LED-lit eyes stare into yours, searching for a sign, any indication of love.

You brush your lips together, softly at first, until his whimper makes you grin and run your tongue over his lip, asking for entrance. You suck his bottom lip into his mouth until he does, tongues rolling over each other in a heated kiss. With your skin burning up, you run your hands through his hair, and Jimin cautiously squeezes your butt when you push him against the counter.

Suddenly, you sink to your knees and begin to fumble with the waistband of his pants.

“So, you have sensors, right?” He nods weakly. “Everywhere.”

“Y-yes, ma’am—”

“And is there any way to alter them? Is it possible to make you last longer, or even make you not last at all?” you ask, still kneeling before him. Again, Jimin nods and closes his eyes. “Then, I want you as sensitive as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

He must have a limit, and you want to find it. Either he runs out of cum, or his sensors give up, or he just fucking short-circuits.

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to get hard between your fingers, smooth rolls of your wrist as you pump him with an affectionate but hungry pace. Letting out a gasp, Jimin grips the edge of the counter for balance; he’s indeed too sensitive not to react to the touch he’s been craving his whole existence.

“So hard,” you purr, “I can’t wait to taste you, Jimin…”

“M-master, please, Master! Oh fuck, oh—” Jimin whimpers in response, gritting his teeth.

His body is shaking when you part your lips and engulf his cock, eyes glued to his pretty face. His knees buckle, and he squeaks in pleasure, you hollow your cheeks to swallow more of him. Meanwhile, your other hand gently plays with his balls.

“That— that f-feels so good, Master,” he rasps. In appreciation, you suck further down onto his cock until there’s a trickle of saliva rolling down your chin. “Shit! God, thank you!”

You somehow manage to grin with his cock between your parted lips. Jimin seems too aroused to process any robotic thought properly, so you move your hands to his ass and knead the flesh, pushing your lips into your mouth. He yelps instantly and follows it with his hips, and then you dip your tongue into his slit; it makes him let out a sob and almost fall to his knees, warning you of his climax, or rather begging you to slow down.

Your darkened lips, wet with saliva, suck again while your tongue presses on his tip. His cock throbs, a salty flavour you think it’s fake precum lingering on it. His hardened length slides in and out of your mouth with sloppy movements.

Jimin lets out a choked sob. “Master!” Filled with guilt, as gently as his trembling body will let him, he puts his hands on your hair. “L-let me cum, I need to— I-I need to come, please—”

Finally, you raise your head to let his length slide out of your mouth, and you catch back your precious breath.

“Sensitive, are we?” you mock him.

There’s time for him only to roll his eyes, out of annoyance or pleasure, before his hips buckle into your mouth one more time. The coiling tension in his sensors pools in the centre of his body, Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, and soon his cock twitches again, heavy on your tongue, warning you of his high.

“Master,” he whimpers. “T-thank you, Master, fuck— shit!”

And Jimin spills himself inside of your mouth, his release salty and more similar to actual cum than you expected. After swallowing, you help him ride out his orgasm using both hands and lips.

He’s still holding his weight on the counter when you speak, “Get on the table and lie down.”

He was probably expecting to eat you out since you pull down your pants once you straddle him, so it does take Jimin by surprise when you align your entrance with his half-hard cock. You hear him mumble something as your hand grips his cum-covered length, fingers playing with his release and making him let out a gasp.

“Are you still sensitive?” Barely able to keep eye contact, Jimin nods weakly. “Good.”

You quickly get rid of both your and his shirt. Once you’re naked against each other, you bend down to finally touch, knead, nib, and kiss wherever you feel like; you’ve had enough of leisurely letting him pleasure you without taking your part.

Your warm lips leave a trail of kisses down his neck and chest. “I’ll ride you again and again… until you either run out of cum or short-circuit.”

“M-mast—!”

Jimin lets out a choked sob when you sink down on his cock, immediately rolling down your hips. A hint of pain takes over you as your walls grip him, stretching around his length, and you moan. It’s been a while since you last had such a nice cock work you open— but then Jimin’s hands grab your waist, and his blissed face takes you completely off guard.

“Fuck, so good, Master, I love— I love you,” he whines.

His eyes move down to his cock disappearing into your body; you feel so warm, so wet, the pressure around him letting him know that you’re stuffed with him too.

You breathe out and thrust down onto him again, setting a desperate, frenetic tempo. “You feel good too, angel, shit—” The sounds of smacking flesh echo across the room, pushing you to ride him faster. “Gonna fuck you until I go mad—”

With your hands splayed across his chest, you use him for leverage to slam your hips together.

“Please, don’t stop!” Jimin begs you then, eyes rolling back. “Oh, coming, M-Master! I’m— I’m close, p-please—!”

You bend down again and nuzzle his neck only to gently bite on his earlobe, making him purr. “So, you want to come inside of me, Jimin? Want to fill your Master up with your cum? Is that—” A groan drowns down your throat when his cock finally finds and pumps into the right spot. “I-is that what you want?”

The heated kiss the two of you share is enough of an answer. You tilt your hips so that your clit rubs against his pubic bone, pushing you closer to your climax.

Body arching against you, Jimin pushes back up against your thrusts erratically. His thighs move up and down to help, the seeming muscles bulging and flexing, and all his system starts to burn, aching to burst. His cock slides into your dripping cunt in a desperate tempo.

Jimin sucks on the skin of your neck before whispering, breathless, “I’m—”

And then you feel it – a tremble, a soft pant, and one last powerful thrust up into you before you groan at the warm feeling of his cum flooding you. Jimin reaches out for your body as he convulses, hugging you tightly before you give in and kiss him. Your hips don’t stop after even helping him ride out his climax, and he looks at you with his brows knitted in confusion. But you smirk, his creamy release leaking from your entrance and leaking down his cock.

“Ugh— hurts, Master,” he whines then. His fingers dig into your waist.

“Told you,” you whisper; “I’ll ride you until I come, no matter how many times I have to make you come.”

Like a man who has accepted his doom, Jimin lets you kiss him again, this time hungrily sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. A groan vibrates in your throat, you can tell you’re close, judging by the way your body is burning up, your swollen clit rubbing against the base of his cock.

It softens partially inside of you, but not for long; maybe it’s because of his sensors – since they’re set to the highest level of sensitivity – that Jimin sucks in a sharp breath when you clench around him.

“I’m close, angel,” you say, almost grunting.

You’re close, can feel your climax teasing you. Heat spreads under your skin, and you have to fight not to crumble on top of him, thighs burning. He stares at your sweat, covering your body, sliding down the valley of your breasts, tapping against the metal surface. You enjoy how Jimin responds to your touch when you stroke down his chest and realise he’s close too.

Slowly, you raise your hips and snap them onto his cock again, eyes never leaving his beautiful red LED-lit irises.

“Cum with me, will you?”

You’re so full of his cum already, you’re sure it’ll leak out for hours. But your lips find each other in the sickly whitish light blinking over you, and it’s so comforting that you can’t help the tension snapping in the pit of your stomach with a deep moan muffled against his lips.

“Shit, shit, baby—! Oh, fuck, so good, so good,” you chant, now rutting your hips faster.

You dissolve into pleasure with his arms around you, grounding you to him. Walls fluttering around his cock, the shockwaves grip your body like a fit of hysterical lust, pushing you to fuck him faster, harder, balls swinging against your cheeks until Jimin lets out a trembling sob; then he empties himself inside of your tight walls, and you relentlessly fuck him through his orgasm, slower by the minute.

Jimin watches your breasts as they heave up and down in an attempt to catch your breath. Meanwhile, his system slows down, now trying to run smoothly.

You smile when his thumbs stroke your waist in circles. “What?”

“I still…” His smile falters, now totally back on earth. “I still don’t know if you want to keep me, Master.”

“You’ll have to stop calling me ‘Master’ eventually, you know,” you say and ignore his pleading question. Caressing his cheeks feel way more interesting right now.

“Why?”

“Well” – you sit up on his lap, making some of his release leak out and drip down your inner thighs – “I’m sure people will start making questions, don’t you think? I believe you should stick to it only at home, when we’re alone— or even better, only in the bedroom.”

It takes him a second to realise you’re taking him. With this, you’re claiming him, you didn’t even doubt it for a second.

Jimin is yours, forever, however long that lasts.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

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yeehaw4yoongi · 2 years

Text

Iced Americano | JJK

Pairing: jk x barista female reader

Rating: 18+ | minors dni | nsfw

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: drinking alcohol, kissing, some swearing, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, mentions of cum, titty play, mentions of food/eating, mentions of milk (but literally just milk nothing nasty is being done with the milk), shower sex, dom-ish jk

Genre: fluff, smut, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, some angst

Summary: You wake up thinking today would be like any other day but you were wrong.

A/N: Hi tumblr! This is my first stab at writing any kind of fanfic. I'm new to all the warnings, categories, and abbreviations so please bear with me. Thinking about doing a part 2 since I feel like there is so much build up in this half, so if you enjoyed it, please comment, reblog, and like!

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Today started like most of your days do. The alarm yanks you out of your slumber at 4:30AM and you drag yourself to the shower. You have about half an hour to get to the bus so you can make it to work at 6:00AM. You sprint to your stop and make it just as the bus pulls up. You won’t be late today.

As you ride down the dark city streets you make a list of everything that needs to be done to open the cafe by 7:00AM. You take inventory of everyone out and about already hard at work. Street sweepers and stall keepers mill around setting the scene for the world that has yet to wake. Despite the start time, you love the opening shift. It’s where humans on different paths cross as night transitions into the morning. Party people with pupils the size of the moon and 9 to 5’ers alike find themselves convening in the queue for coffee. The day goes by as usual. Taking orders, making light conversation, steaming milk, and cleaning up empty cups make the morning go by quickly, and before you know it’s nearly time for the shift change. By now the freshness of the morning ceases to exist. You’re covered in coffee grounds and sweat has taken its toll on your makeup. You switch out the till drawer and head to the office to count the morning’s takings. Once you finish, you collect your bag and head back into the bustling cafe. It’s a small space so you weave your way through the crowded shop. You stop by the counter on your way out to bid your workmate adieu and that’s when you notice him.

His tall slender frame leans against the counter as he orders an iced americano. He reaches for his wallet and you notice the tattoos on his hands. You don’t allow yourself to keep looking. Instead, you push passed him and the other people queuing and head for the door. One of your workmates shouts behind you “see you tomorrow!” and as you turn around to wave you meet eyes with Iced Americano. For a split second, your heart plummets into your stomach. He looks down at his phone and you’re released from his grip. He seems unfazed but the depth of his glance has shaken you. Walking down the street toward the bus you brush off the interaction. This city is full of attractive people. You serve them every day. What made him different?

“Never mind,” you tell yourself as you climb the steps to the top deck of the bus. You have errands to run and a friend’s birthday dinner to go to tonight. As the afternoon wanes you forget about Iced Americano and go about getting ready for the evening’s festivities. You make your best effort. The restaurant you’re going to for the party is one of the nicest Italian places in town and you want to look the part.

The city sparkles as you make your way through town in the cold. You see the restaurant down the road. The warmth practically flows out of the windows. As you enter, you’re met with a scene of beauty. Peach-colored light is defused through sheer fabric dressed around each of the fixtures that hang from the ceiling. They reflect off of the polished brass glass rack hanging above the marble-top bar and bathe the marble walls in a rose gold hue. Vintage mirrors hang above a row of pale blue booth seats that run parallel to the bar and give way to the dining room. You stand at the door and take it all in. Scanning the dining room you realize you’re the first of your group to arrive. The maitre d’ pulls out one of the plush mint green bar stools and motions for you to take a seat. You order yourself a glass of wine and pass the time looking through your phone. As you wait, the bar fills up around you. Your phone buzzes and it’s your friend saying they’re nearly there. You motion to the bartender to close out your tab. He places the bill on the bar. When you look down you see something familiar out of the corner of your eye- a tattoo and more importantly the hand it belongs to. How long had Iced Americano been there? Your eyes never leave the tray the receipt is on as you slide it towards you. That’s when you hear his voice. “What wine are you drinking?” You mess up your signature but decide there’s no way he was talking to you and so you push the tray back toward the bartender and place your card back in your wallet. It’s when you get up to tell the maitre d’ your group has almost arrived that you meet Iced Americano’s gaze. Turns out he was talking to you. He looks at you with an inquisitive brow as he awaits your response.

“I, I uh, it’s the Cabernet” you manage to blurt out through your shock. The bartender nods at Iced Americano and he orders the Cabernet. “Thank you,” he says with a wide smile. You stand there looking up at him for what was probably only 2 seconds but feels like much longer. Just then your friends swan in and swallow you up in their hugs and kisses of greeting. You look back at Iced Americano and smile and give him a small wave as you head to your table.

Your seat at the table faces one of the mirrors hung on the walls. You and your friends order two bottles of wine and some small plates to start. You’re wrapped up in the comfort of their company. Everyone is sharing the highlights of their day and listening as the birthday girl lists off all of the presents she’s gotten. As the server brings the wine and serves a sample to your friend you look up into the mirror. Sitting at the table directly behind you is Iced Americano with two others. His seat at the table gives you a clear view of his face in the mirror’s reflection. You try your best to stay engaged in the conversation happening at your table but the image in the mirror pulls your gaze back to it. His face is kind and his eyes are soft and doe-like. The curve of his jaw is sharp. Even through the vintage mirror, you can tell his bone structure resembles that of a statue. You’ve lost yourself in his image and he must have felt you staring because his eyes look up to meet yours. You’re rendered breathless but you don’t divert your eyes. The server pours your glass of wine and you refocus on the table.

Several food courses and drinks go by before the bill inevitably arrives. Your party wraps up and as you collect your things to leave you steal another glance at Iced Americano in the mirror hoping it won’t be the last. You make your way out with your group and wait with them as each of their cabs arrive. Standing alone on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant you watch your Uber get closer and closer to picking you up but you’re not ready to go home yet. You look behind you through the restaurant window and see Iced Americano sitting at the bar. You decide to throw caution to the wind and cancel the Uber.

The liquid courage running through your veins makes it easy, a little too easy, to take the seat directly next to the man that has captured your attention. You don’t say anything to him as the weight of your decision begins to hit you. It’s too late now, and when the bartender asks what you would like you say, “He and I will have an espresso martini,” and motion to Iced Americano sitting next to you. He looks at you with a surprised look and you grin. “Did you order that for me?” he asks with a chuckle. You nod. “What’s your name?” you ask. He responds, “My name is Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you.”

You sit at the bar nursing your drinks and talking. He’s in town working for a couple of days. You mention being a barista but don’t mention where. You talk about traveling and the places you’ve been, comparing notes on cities you’ve both visited. He is incredibly well-traveled and regales you with stories about his time spent on the road. As you chat the restaurant starts closing down. Eventually, the bartender makes the last call and Jungkook asks if you’d like to take a bottle of wine to go. The idea sends a tingle up your spine. You initially thought the espresso martini would be the nightcap but your shift doesn’t start until the afternoon the next day, and why wouldn’t you get a bottle of wine to go? You answer him, “I’d love to. I know a place we can go with it.”

When you step outside the cold air hits your lungs and the warm blur from inside the restaurant sharpens. You are greeted by the sounds of cabs passing by and people chatting and laughing as they make their way to the train station. The city lights shine and wrap you up. You feel safe under them. The libations from dinner and the impromptu nightcap make your mind feel light and optimistic like anything could happen. As though somehow this moment is the beginning of your life.

You start walking down the road and turn to see if Jungkook is following you. He’s still standing at the door holding the wine and thanking the staff for a wonderful meal and exquisite service. Waiting for him a few paces along the sidewalk you take the opportunity to admire his whole form. He’s tall with broad strong shoulders. His turtleneck hugs his arms and chest and his slacks are perfectly tailored - a statue. As he walks toward you he asks, “Where do we go next?”

The two of you make your way through town passing the theatre district down to the river. You find a bench along the bank and take a seat to watch boats pass while lights on the other side twinkle in the background. He had the forethought to ask the bartender to uncork the wine but you both forgot cups. He playfully pulls the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottle and then hands it to you. It’s cold out but you don’t feel it. Maybe it’s the wine? Maybe it’s him? Either way, you never feel uncomfortable. You talk with him about what brought you to the city and how you love being there. He listens intently and seems to hang on to your every word. Time flies as you take turns drinking the wine and before you know it, the bottle is empty. You sit there with him in the dark a bit longer looking out over the water. The silence between you is pleasant. You can feel his arm up against yours and you fight the urge to take his hand at that moment.

He looks at his phone and breaks the silence, “Let’s walk back to where I’m staying and I can get you a cab back home.” By now, you know that even if you didn’t desperately want to walk him home, you’ve had so much wine that there’s no way you can get into a vehicle without walking it off a bit. As you stroll up to the beautiful historic hotel, you see there’s a town car parked in the front. “This is for you,” Jungkook says with a smile and motions to the car. Going home is the last thing you want to do but you don’t want to force anything. You thank him for the ride and tell him you hope he has a great remainder of his stay in town. As you turn toward the car, Jungkook takes your hand in his and pulls you toward him into a hug. You breathe him in and he smells like clean fresh laundry. “Thank you for showing me around,” he says releasing you, “I had a great time.” You go to respond but don’t get the chance. He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you around,” he whispers in your ear with a sly smile and you stand there stunned. He notices that you’ve been caught off guard and walks to the side of the car and opens the door. That’s your cue. You get into the backseat and he closes the door behind you, giving a small wave as the car pulls away from the hotel.

Your whole body buzzes as you ride through the city. When you get home you realize you never exchanged numbers. As you sink into bed you replay the events of the evening in your mind. Every look, every word, every brush of his arm against yours. The kiss cycles over and over. Even if it was just tonight, it was worth it.

The next day you have a slow morning. By some miracle, you aren’t hungover but the booze has made you feel sluggish. You think about Jungkook as you get ready for work that afternoon and while heading to the bus stop. You think about him as you ride through town and as you walk to the cafe. You can’t shake him and you don’t want to. Deep down you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. What are the chances of you seeing him again? Despite you trying to manage your expectations, you watch the cafe door your entire shift hoping he’ll appear there. Patron after patron comes in. No Jungkook. Finally, you give up hope that he’ll come in but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about the night before. You spend the rest of the shift on autopilot, stuck in your endless daydream. You close up the shop and head back home. You have to open up the next day and can’t afford another late night. Riding the bus, your mind drifts to last night. It remembers the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. It remembers the feeling of his lips pushed against yours and the feeling of his breath on your ear.

Once again, your alarm startles you awake at 4:30AM. Another day, another shift. You’ve accepted the idea that your evening with Jungkook was only a brief encounter and one of the many perks of living in the city. You never know who you’ll meet and what will happen. The memory will live fondly in the back of your mind for a while until time inevitably reduces it to a blip on the timeline of your life. The shift goes by as normal and you greet and serve the first arrivals into the shop. The morning is peppered with the regular corporate types and rave stragglers. You spend your time chatting, catching up with them, and listening to what they have planned for the rest of their day. As the lunch rush starts to pick up, the queue for service extends to just outside of the door. You’re nearing the end of your shift but there’s still a lot to do, so you move from the till to behind the coffee machine to help your workmate with the influx of coffee orders flooding in.

As you steam the milk at the end of the counter, you grow tired and the awareness of what’s happening around you disappears. It’s just you and the milk pitcher. You watch the milk swirl around in the jug making sure not to burn it. With your focus on the upcoming orders you never see Jungkook enter the cafe, but now he is standing at the end of the counter and says, “Hi” breaking your focus. When you look up and see who the greeting comes from, you almost don’t believe your eyes. The chances of you meeting again seemed slim and yet here he is. You realize that you’re fully staring at him, mouth agape. You try to respond like someone who has spoken before but your “Hey! How are you?” comes out as more of an abrupt shout. He doesn't skip a beat and tells you that he was meant to leave town the day before but that he still had some things to wrap up and extended his trip a few days. You’re delighted by this news but you do your best to stay cool and nonchalant. His drink is a few places behind others in line but none of the other patrons matter anymore. You make each drink and just slide them to the end of the counter as you and Jungkook chat. He didn’t know you worked here and mentioned how he was in the cafe a few days ago. You pretend not to remember. Finally, his drink is up. Unlike the coffees before his, you take extra care and gently slide the drink directly toward him. He asks you for a lid and as you go to put it on, there is a brief fumble. He doesn’t anticipate you putting the lid on for him and reaches to secure it as you place it on top of his cup. His slender fingers and soft palm land directly on the top of your hand. You both look up at each other and giggle. He takes a sip of his drink and thanks you for making it just right. You swoon and he notices. He says that he’s been given tickets to a show later that night and asks if you’d like to go with him. You exchange a glance with your workmate standing to your left. She has completely stopped making espresso shots and is waiting for you to respond to him while nodding her head as though to say, “Say yes, fool!”. You quickly turn back to face Jungkook and tell him, “sounds great”. Noticing that the number of people waiting for their coffee has caused a crowd to form, he takes a pen from his bag and writes his number on a napkin, and hands it to you. “Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

As soon as you finish work you text him your address. [See you soon.] he replies. You race home and start the process of getting ready. No task is spared as you prep for a night on the town with quite possibly the most beautiful man on the planet. You try on all of your clothes and then all of your roommate’s clothes before finally deciding on what you’ll wear. You put on the designer perfume your grandmother gave you for your birthday. Promptly at 7:00PM your phone buzzes. You give yourself a last look and take a deep breath. When you open the front door, there is Jungkook sitting on the street in an Aston Martin. He gets out of the car and goes around the other side to open the passenger door. He’s wearing black combat boots, fitted black trousers, and a knit charcoal grey crew neck sweater over a white collared shirt. You walk toward him and he takes your hand to help you into the car. He gets into the driver’s seat but before he puts the car back into gear, he looks over at you and says, “You look amazing.” You thank him and reciprocate the compliment even though “amazing” doesn’t even begin to describe how gorgeous he looks. He is fucking hot with his black hair combed in a way that exposes a bit of his forehead. You fight the urge to lick your lips as you watch him wrap his tattooed fingers around the steering wheel.

You arrive at an elite member’s only Burlesque club in Soho. The hostess shows you to a cozy private booth with soft cushioned upholstery and oversized pillows that line the back. As the two of you settle in, the manager stops by the table to drop off a complimentary bottle of champagne. Jungkook smiles when he sees her and stands up to greet her with a hug and cheek kiss, as though they’ve met before. He introduces you and she winks as she greets you. She says, “Any friend of JK is a friend of mine. If you need anything at all, just ask for me.” A server comes by and takes your drink and food order just as the lights in the club dim and the spotlight flicks onto the stage. Jungkook makes sure your glass never runs dry as one beautiful woman after another takes the stage. Each one of their performances is glamorous and sensual. As the show goes on, the two of you inch closer and closer to each other until he takes his arm and puts it over your shoulder. You allow yourself to let your guard down and lean your head to the side to rest it in the nook where his chest meets his shoulder. You stay there until the show is over.

The club isn’t far from his hotel and as you stroll down the street it dawns on you that that’s the direction you’re heading in. You brace yourself for another town car. When the hotel is just within eyeshot, Jungkook makes a random but smooth turn onto a narrow alley and points out some street art on the wall. As you follow behind him trying to see what he’s talking about he turns around and slowly walks back toward you until you’ve backed yourself onto the wall opposite of the one he was looking at. He walks right up to the point where you’re nearly touching and then stops. You turn your gaze upward to look him in the eyes and he says, “I’m just kidding. I wanted a private place to kiss you.” He leans in and lays a small kiss on your lips. And then another. You kiss him back as you slowly wrap your arms around his waist and draw him in closer. For a few moments, the two of you stand there entwined seemingly suspended in time. It feels like you’re levitating. He opens his mouth and slides his tongue into yours, triggering all the butterflies in your stomach to a frenzy. Pulling back, he lays a few more small kisses on your lips before bringing your arms up around his neck and wrapping his arms around your back to pull you into him again. You stand there in silence breathing in unison. As you stroke the hair that grazes the nape of his neck he leans into yours and kisses it softly. Kissing your neck he says, “Do you,” another kiss, “want,” another kiss, “to come up,” another kiss, “with me?” You reply into the night sky as your head rolls back, and his kisses drift further down your neck, “Absolutely”.

Your heart pounds as you walk through the hotel doors but you aren’t nervous. Facing the front of the mirrored elevator doors, Jungkook stands behind you. He admires your reflections for a moment and you watch him as he drapes his left arm over the front of you while using his right hand to caress the left side of your face and turn it up to the right to meet his for a kiss. The doors ding open and you walk into the elevator. He pushes a button near the top floor and the doors close.

You are standing on opposite sides of the elevator and with each floor that passes the tension between you grows. It takes everything you have not to throw yourself on him but you test the waters and ask, “Why are you all the way over there?”. His demeanor shifts and when his gaze meets yours, you see a fire burning in his eyes. He takes the two steps across the elevator, looks over at the buttons, and smashes the Emergency stop. The elevator halts. Facing you, Jungkook raises his hand and places his thumb on your lip, applying some pressure while moving it carefully and with purpose until your mouth is slightly open. He starts to lean in, slowly sliding his thumb and index finger down to the tip of your chin, and lifts your face until your mouths meet in a deep and passionate French kiss. Your face rests gently in the palms of his hands. The way he kisses you feels like he needs you to breathe. “Can I touch you?”, he asks, his voice nearly a whisper but not quite. As he waits for your response, once again you find yourself answering into the sky but this time you’re met with your reflection in the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. You look yourself in the eyes as they roll back into your head and you whisper, “Please”.

When the elevator doors open Jungkook slides his fingers out from your now-damp underwear and leads you into an immaculately decorated suite. He flicks on a lamp and then another and you stop at the end of the entryway to take in the space.

As you admire your surroundings, Jungkook asks if you’d like a glass of wine while he pulls back a heavy curtain to reveal a private terrace with a breathtaking view of the city. You walk over to where he’s standing by the window and look out. The city lights twinkle in a panorama. He asks you again if you’d like some wine but you are too distracted by flashbacks of the elevator ride up when he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you as he rubbed your clit with the bottom of his palm to notice Jungkook waiting for your response whilst you look out over the city. He clears his throat and you are suddenly very aware of him waiting and see him looking at you out of the corner of your eye.

You turn toward him and say, “I think I want something stronger,” as you move your hand over the front of his trousers to find what you actually want. You land on the task at hand and you feel him twitch slightly under your palm, as he begins to harden at your touch. Looking up at his face, his eyes are closed and he lets out a soft moan as he exhales. You keep your hand where it is for a bit longer before moving it up toward his waist until your fingers are touching the bottom of his sweater giving it a light tug to signal that it’s time for him to take it off. He crosses his arms over his torso, reaching to where your hands are resting near his waist, and pulls the sweater up and over his head. While his arms are still mid-air, you reach up and start unbuttoning the white collared shirt. You lay a kiss on the skin that is exposed with each undone button. He is breathing heavier now. You only get halfway through unbuttoning his shirt before he takes you by the waist and turns you toward the window. He puts his hand on your back and presses you into it just enough to indicate that he’s the one in control. His hand moves down your back to your hips and guides them into place. His other hand is busy lifting your skirt and resting the fabric on your lower back to expose your ass. “If you want something stronger, that’s what you’ll get”. You hear his zipper coming down and his belt clink as he unbuckles. The glass is cold against your palms and arms. The city continues to glow in front of you as you feel him slide your panties down.

The anticipation begins to bubble over and every part of your body throbs and screams out for him. You let out a whine when he starts teasing you with his tip, before slowly and gently sliding every inch of him inside of you. You both moan softly and relish the first moment your bodies fully meet each other. Jungkook pulls out nearly leaving you but slides himself deep inside you again. He repeats this a few times and then proceeds to slowly and steadily fuck you from behind. Each thrust is deliberate and forces you to feel all of him as he strokes your g-spot. You can feel the pressure inside of you starting to build and he can too. He gradually quickens his pace remaining consistent with the depth and cadence of his strokes. Your head gets cloudy as your orgasm continues to mount. “Fuck!” you exclaim as Jungkook starts to hammer into you with a rhythm where you cease to see straight anymore. You try to regain your composure but all you can do is plead with him not to stop- never stop. “I won’t,” he barks through gritted teeth. You come so hard that your legs nearly give out and he’s quick to catch you with one arm around your torso to keep you from buckling. He never misses a beat and the waves of your orgasm keep crashing over you.

When he feels you reach the other side of pleasure, he pulls himself out of your warmth and gently rubs the head of his cock across your ass cheeks as he releases onto them. You feel the warm trickles of his cum roll down as he steps back to admire his work. Still bent over and facing the window you look back at him over your right shoulder and see him standing there with a naughty smile stretched across his face while he pulls up his trousers. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says. In an effort not to make a mess of your skirt, you unzip it and bring it up over your body and head. You drape it over one of the armchairs and hear the shower turn on in the other room. As you walk toward the sound you remove your top and drop it onto the floor.

Entering the bathroom you are met with a fully naked Jungkook. The form that you’ve admired through turtlenecks and fitted trousers is now on full display. He has a striking physique and you can tell that he takes time to maintain it. He is lean but still muscular. He’s strong but has made an effort not to overdo it so that it looks almost effortless. You can see all of his tattoos now and you’re surprised by how many there are.

Steam spills over the top of the walk-in shower and he opens the door and beckons for you to get in. He takes the sponge hanging on the wall and squeezes some soap onto it. The scent of gardenia wafts through the steam as he creates a lather and drags the sponge along the different parts of your body, paying particular attention to your ass making sure to remove whatever is still left of him. He wrings out the sponge and hangs it back on the wall. As the warm water continues to cascade down, you turn to face him and wrap your arms around his waist to pull his body close to yours. You rest your head on his chest and feel him breathe. Still captured in your embrace, Jungkook turns the two of you as a unit so that you are facing him as he slowly sits down on the banquette that is built into the shower. You continue to stand. You place your hands under his chin and tilt his head so that he’s looking straight up into your eyes. You lean down to kiss him. He kisses you back gently and when you move your head to change angles you catch a peek of his face through your partially closed eyes. His brow is furrowed as though he is savoring every second of this kiss. His expression is soft and sincere. It makes you feel like at that moment, you belong to each other. Like you want to take care of him. To protect his heart. To make sure he always feels cherished. You start to lose yourself in your head as you continue to caress him. The emotions rising into your throat border on heartbreaking. You know this is a fleeting moment. Nothing is promised after tonight.

You pull back from the kiss and start to straighten your stance, while he glides his mouth down your neck and chest until he has one of your breasts in his mouth. You feel his tongue circling your nipple as his hand takes your other breast into it. He rubs his thumb over your other nipple while using his free arm to keep you close to him. Gently, you comb your fingers through the wet hair on the back of his head and hold it as he transfers his mouth to your other breast. You reach down between his legs as he continues to suck on your tits and find that he is hard.

Jungkook adjusts so that he is sitting on the very edge of the banquette to make it easier for you to straddle him. As you lower yourself down onto him, he pulls you in so close that it’s hard to tell where he starts and you stop. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your face is pressed against the side of his. Once you feel that he is completely inside of you, you start rocking your hips back and forth slowly. He moans when he feels your core grip around his cock. Breathing in unison, every slight movement becomes more gratifying than the last, transporting you to an alternate realm. Nothing else exists as you allow yourself to surrender to the intimacy of this moment. No one can see you. No one will ever know the energy exchanged here tonight. It belongs solely to the two of you. “Give it all to me, baby,” Jungkook coos in your ear, as though he’s cheering you to the finish. Your ears pop when you come and for a moment you are totally paralyzed as you let out a silent scream and throw your head back while palpable bliss courses between you. As you slowly grind on him you bring your face to his eye level and kiss him while he comes inside of you. Even after he’s finished you stay connected on the banquette while the water continues to run so you can stay in this moment as long as possible.

Dawn starts to shine over the city skyline as you climb into the big hotel bed. Jungkook pulls the heavy curtain across the window and the room descends into nearly pitch darkness. He crawls into bed next to you. You’re both still naked and your skin is warm and clean. The two of you lay in the darkness talking for a while. You talk about how beautiful the burlesque dancers were at the show and about how delicious the food was. Your conversation wanders aimlessly as you curl up into the nook of his neck and he reaches down to pull your leg over him. He holds on to the bottom of your thigh to keep it draped over him. His breathing starts to deepen and you are lulled to sleep by every inhale and exhale. You smell gardenias as you doze off.

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rkivestation · 3 months

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“Those Eyes” |Masterpost|KTH

➝status: completed.

➝WC: 23 chapters.

➝pairing: game designer!ceo!taehyung x game designer!employee!reader ,game developer!mirae x game developer!audio engineer!jungkook, game interpreter!jimin x game interpreter!jae-ah, game writer!namjoon x game!writer Auri and two more side ships.

➝genre: romance,fluff,angst,smut (might add smut if I ever get requested,else,it has none rn)

➝summary: it's a mystery how two pair of eyes finds solace in each other,when they are strangers and when they are not. can they solve the mystery their eyes behold and explore beyond the horizon of their workaholic life?

Chapter 1- wc: 4.6k

chapter 2- wc:4.0K

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

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eleni-cherie · 9 months

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a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg [COMPLETED] masterlist

"so eager to be in a headlock again?"

"only if it's by you."

he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble.

[sequel to 'among thieves || bts • pjm' - can be read independently!!]

»»»

list of all chapters:

intro | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 1.0 | 1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5 | 1.6 | 1.7 | 1.8 | epilogue

— word count: 72k

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

I don't wanna spoil too much, but all members play a role in this story!

— song recommendations/inspirations:

agust d - haegeum

(g)i-dle - dahlia

the neighbourhood - sweater weather

marina - superstar

zayn - rear view & love like this

»»»

IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS JIMIN FANFIC "AMONG THIEVES". TBH I DIDN'T PLAN TO WRITE THIS YOONGI SEQUEL BUT THEN I SAW THE FOLLOWING GIFS OF HIM AND SOYEON BACK TO BACK AND WAS LIKE "GODDAMN I NEED TO WRITE ABOUT THESE TWO!!!"

PROTAGONISTS:

MIN YOONGI AS HIMSELF; RETIRED THIEF / MASTER SWORD FIGHTER / INVOLUNTARY GETAWAY DRIVER

JEON SOYEON AS HERSELF; HUNTED NORMIE / FUGITIVE SONGWRITER / INVOLUNTARY STOWAWAY

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.

DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))

DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC. BUT ESPECIALLY TO @taexual WHO HELPED ME WITH THE DESCRIPTION AND MANY OTHER THINGS!

CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES AS WELL:

polaris ✨ bts • kth

private affair ✨ ksj

8 mile ✨ myg

lonely hearts club ✨ kth

among thieves ✨ bts • pjm

-Elenixx

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ladyelainehilfur · 5 months

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the passage of time amirite

#geeez #where does the time even go #happy december guys #christmas #skip to loafer #skip and loafer #s2l

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sugarwithtea · 2 years

Text

stay (m) | myg

what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.

pairing : yoongi x fem!reader

rating/genre : 18+ // angst, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers.

word count : 13.4k

warnings : swearing, jealousy, mentions of past relationships (not of the main characters), oral sex (f. receiving), protected sex, slight thigh riding, mentions of grinding, heated make out, multiple orgasms, and to wrap it all ... explicit smut scenes, yoongs is a bit possessive but not in a toxic way, slight mention of death (of a late character), and I'm saying before!! crying, shouting and lots of bickering!!

sugarwithtea m.list | taglist form

---

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Are there no rooms available?"

"Sadly, the hotel is full for the season. I am sorry but you will have to find a room somewhere else."

You rub your temple for the upteenth time before speaking to the hotel manager yet again,

"This town hardly has any lodges or motels available. Where am I meant to go? Could you please adjust me to yours for a single night?"

"We are already overbooked. But you might find a small lodge on the outskirts of the town, near a strawberry plantation if you want a place to stay then."

"I- okay no problem. Thank you for your time." You huffed as you hung up the call.

You were in the middle of a sleepy town with no accommodation available. A one day trip turned to an overstay trip with you having missed the last bus back to Seoul.

Lazily, you start trudging down the hill where the main market was at, towards the outskirts of the town, hoping to find a room at the lodge the manager mentioned. It was 8pm but there was not a single soul visible, due to the cold. Hell, even you wanted to cozy up in your small apartment back home, with some shitty movie going on in the background and you zoning out.

Guess fate has something else reserved for you.

After a tiring walk of 30 minutes, you reach a small patch of strawberries. It was so dark and there was no fencing around that piece of land, so you had almost trampled the fruit under your feet. The strawberries were surrounded by trees on one side, the one facing you. Craning your neck to find some kind of lodge, as informed to you, a small flicker of yellow light gains your attention. You walk around the farm, if you can call it one, gingerly and come in front of the shabby little house.

The entrance of the lodge is covered in a lot of trellis and creepers you can't seem to recognise in the fog that has settled down due to the cold. A small window adjacent to the door was the source of the light that had caught your attention, a single lamp flickering behind it. Dense plantation hid the cottage from the main road, with the strawberry patch laying at the foot of the trees in front of the house. A small gravel filled path led up to the main door.

A board stating "Sugar Lodge" adorned the slanting roof, the words almost fading out at the edges. The cottage looked so old and shabby, it seemed like one strong gust of wind was enough for the walls to cave in.

You walked up to the front door, the gravel crunching under your feet and the occasional gusts of wind the only sound accompanying you. As soon as you reached the door, the light in the window went off and darkness engulfed your surroundings. Knocking thrice, you just hoped that your unexpected endeavor doesn't turn more annoying than it already was.

Oh how wrong you were.

The door opened to a man in front of you with a small candle in his hand. The darkness did not allow you to figure out his features but one that stood out easily was his deep scowl. He wore a loose shirt and shorts in this gut wrenching cold. You wondered how was he surviving as there was seemingly no warmth oozing out of his-

“The fuck you want?”

Yes, no warmth whatsoever. Even his voice resembled the chilly winter.

“You gonna say something? Stop staring at me girl, I know I look amazing.”

“I- is this how you talk to your guests?”

Your words did have an effect on him, but only for a fleeting moment when his small feline eyes widened a bit and he opened his mouth to apologize-

“If they don't have a sense of time, then yes.”

Or to annoy you more.

Even through your fury, you accepted the fact that it was late for someone with no life around them, but that didn't stop you from reciprocating his energy.

“Need a watch, sir? Because the last time I checked, 8.30 pm was not late.”

His hold on the candle tightened at your words and all those in his throat died when you started speaking again.

“So unless you'd like to watch me freeze to my death, please let me inside.”

He stepped aside to allow you in. The lodge was what you'd call humble. The owner, unfortunately not. You were standing in a room with a couch, a coffee table and an armchair all directed towards a small television set upon a table. The color and appearance of all these things was hard to make out due to the lack of lighting in the room, the only source being the candle in his hand. In two long strides, he reached the coffee table in the center of the room and set the candle on the small candle stand you noticed just then.

“If you are a guest, I'd like to inform you that the power has gone out. So the heater wont work.”

“It's okay. I am used to-”

“But I think there are enough blankets in the room to keep you warm. I'll show you to your room. It is a bit small but there is no other option. I will be down the hall on the opposite side, so if you need anything, just call me. We will discuss the pay tomorrow morning because I am so fucking sleepy right now, I wont be able to function…” and he went on while moving around the place in a rush.

You tried to speak but his unending speech didn't allow you to.

He almost seemed nervous, with his shoulders tensed up and eyes frantically moving here and there as if he was just realizing he owned this place. So you ended up following him down the hall and almost bumped into him, almost, when he suddenly stopped in front of a wooden door. Taking a few steps back, you braced yourself for his next words as he had paused his rant when you reached the door.

When he turned around, you saw his face knitted into confusion and eyes so narrow, they looked like two slits with darkness peering out.

“What?”

“Who told you about my lodge?” He sounded confused and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was scared.

“I tried booking a room at other motels, but unfortunately all of them were booked. One of them recommended yours and said I might find a room, so here I am.”

“Oh, okay. Did they say anything about me?”

“No. But now I wish they would have warned me about a certain grumpy man who owned this lodge.”

Why does he think that a random motel manager will give you details about him specifically? As if people just go on discussing lodge owners as a part of their routine.

“I am being quite generous right now so please save the banter for when I am fully awake.” He said in a rushed tone and pushed open the door.

“Whatever.” You mumbled and followed him inside the room.

A small bed attached to the window covered half of the room, with a wooden cupboard and a desk on its opposite side with a little plant placed upon it. The room was surprisingly clean and minimalistic, painted in seemingly earthly tones, giving you a warm feeling in the midst of this chilly winter. You couldn’t make out much of its interior due to the dim lighting, but all over the vibe was comforting.

The man stood awkwardly near the door as you explored each and every nook of the room. He cleared his throat to remind you of his presence and you did. You glanced at him once with a small smile adorning your features.

“It's nice.”

You could swear you saw a hint of bright pink gums when he smiled for half a second.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Is there a bell here, or something? How will I call you if I need help?”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“That's my name. Yoongi. Just shout it once and I’ll know you need me.” He was back to his irritating demeanor.

“Okay. Thank You. I am Y/N, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.” and with that he left.

What an asshole.

Well, your stay over here is going to be hell of a ride, you think and drift to sleep unknowingly.

—-------------

Mornings have always brought a sense of happiness to you. No matter whatever you might be going through, the fresh rays of warm sunlight always give you hope that everything will be better, that you'll do better. So when hope tries to peek through the curtains of your window, you crinkle your eyes in a soft smile and sit up straight.

And that's when everything comes rushing back to you.

A room you hardly remember, a bed as comfortable as yours but still different, and a man, whose sight stirs your insides, leaning against the doorframe casually.

“Morning.” he grumbles and without waiting for your response, continues.

“Breakfast is ready, so freshen up. I'll be waiting in the kitchen as we still have to discuss your rent.”

Not even a word out your mouth and he left, striding away in all his glory.

You check the time on the small wall clock and it's 7.30 am. Which means you'll still have to stay here for the next hour and a half, as the first bus to Seoul leaves at 9 am. Changing yourselves in a fresh pair of clothes, a loose gray turtleneck paired with brown pants, you tie your hair into a high ponytail and rush outside the door but not before taking a deep breath to prepare yourselves for whatever that is to come. The only thought that lingers in your mind while you make your way down the hall is-

For how long was he waiting at your door?

—-------------

Yoongi sits at the dining table with a mug in his right hand and a newspaper in his left. He doesn't seem to notice you entering and so you unknowingly check him out.

The man surely is handsome. Dangerously handsome, if you may say. His feline eyes scanned the paper with an intent gaze. With a jaw set to cut glass, thin pink lips mumbled incoherent words while reading off the thing in his hands. His face was so beautifully structured, he might have given a complex to the Greek gods. Veins visibly popped from his thick neck and ran the expanse upto his fingers which brought your attention to his hands clutching the mug tightly. His hands, oh his hands, they were a whole different story. Aforementioned veins handsomely crafted and structured his arms, two silver rings adorning his index and middle fingers. The thoughts that his nimble fingers brought to your mind were better hidden. As if the heavens were not satisfied with your misery, you noticed him wearing gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt. Oh, what a sight.

You couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that you were visibly ogling a stranger who annoyed the shit out of you, and as if on cue-

“For the second time, stop staring at me, I know I look amazing.”

His hoarse voice was enough for you to get out of your trance and back to your senses. His gaze is still intently set upon the newspaper and you hastily shut your mouth which had gone agape at his words.

“As if.” you huffed a scoff and continued “Discuss the rent now, shall we? I have to leave in an hour or so.” you speak while trying your best to not let your gaze go down to his fingers.

“About that, look out from the window.” he looks at you with pity and something that vaguely looks like concern shining behind his lids. So, you walk up to the window and feel your heart sinking to your toes when you drink in the sight in front of you.

The whole area is covered in knee deep snow. The roads that were visible last night have now vanished beneath the whites and a chilly wind carries its way around, all while being in the presence of slight sunlight. Apparently, as he proceeded to inform you, a snowstorm took place around midnight, engulfing the whole town in way too much ice leading to commute and travel being on a hold as the roads were nowhere to be found.

Which means, your trip extended itself for the second time in less than twenty four hours.

You feel yourself shutting down at this new information and quietly sink in the chair across from him. His eyes hold you with a new found care, his demeanor switching from grumpy to kind and hands itching by his side. Your face had lost its shine and when you spoke, your voice was akin to a dull, gray sky.

“Don't worry, I will book a room in one of the hotels for some time. One of them said that they will have a room free by tonight.”

Yoongi looks up at you with his eyebrows knitted into confusion and mouth open.

“Why would you do that?” his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Because I need a place to live for some days, you know, the snow has stopped all travel.” you say while moving your hands around you to prove your point.

“No, I mean, you can stay here. This is a lodge.” he says while emphasizing on 'lodge'.

“I know, but I am already a pain in the ass for you. I don't want to trouble you more.”

“You” his voice was so loud, you flinched and simultaneously, he grimaced at his new found energy. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued through gritted teeth.

“You are not a pain in my ass. Dont worry about me. You can stay here.”

To say you were stunned at his words would be an understatement. Why was he so keen at making you stay at his place?

“You would also be paying me, and I could use that extra money.”

Oh right.

Of course he was looking out for himself. It makes sense why he wants you to stay, he will be benefiting from it. You can't blame him for that though, when you were doing the same. He looked helpless but he didn't leave his stern look. You weighed out the options in front of you and frankly, he made more sense.

The town was covered in a blanket of snow and going out with your stuff to find a hotel sounded absurd so you agreed to stay at his and you both quickly discussed your rent for the next three days, the estimated time it would take to get the buses back on track.

A movement, furry and soft at your feet made you push your chair back and shriek like a woman dying. The voice out of your throat was so loud that Yoongi rushed to your side to check the inconvenience.

“Oh my god. You could have told me you owned a pet. I feel like my heart is in my hands.”

“Stop being overdramatic. Sugar is the sweetest cat you'll ever meet.” he says while crouching down and scratching Sugar on his head.

A British Shorthair, Sugar indeed was one of the cutest you had ever seen. He rubbed himself against your leg and purred while all you could do was coo at him. Yoongi picked him up from your feet and started talking with him while pouting. When he smiled, a set of bright pink gums peeked out and you smiled on impulse. His interaction with Sugar was so sweet, you couldn't help but see it with heart eyes. Yoongi looked different, a good difference. He almost seemed … lovable.

Back up Y/N. What are you even thinking about! He can't be lovable. It's just what Sugar does to people, one feels giddy in the cat's presence.

While their incoherent mumbling and purring is going on, you look around the kitchen. It was perfectly set up, not even a stain was in sight as a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of coffee caught your eye. Yoongi had told you that breakfast was ready, maybe this one was for you.

You set the plate down on the table and start eating like you haven't eaten in ages.

"Calm down, the eggs are not running away." he said while putting Sugar down and striding towards his seat.

" 'ese aa foo' " you try to say through a mouth full of some of the best eggs you have ever tried.

"What?" The chuckle that follows his words is light and adorable which makes you give him a small toothless smile and gulp your food down quickly to give him an answer.

"I said, these are good."

"Thank You." the shyest you had ever seen him in the expanse of your short stay, he wouldn't even dare to look in your eyes.

Maybe this stay won't be as bad as you had anticipated.

—-------------

The next two hours pass in a blur. You had settled down in your room, reading a small novelette you had brought along. The cold had settled down a bit and the sun shone mildly at 10 am. Everything felt as if in a dream. The sight out of your curtains was heavenly, little flakes of snow perched at the sill and Sugar making time to time appearances in the yard outside. It was not snowing, but the wind

was a tad bitter so you decided to bring the cat inside.

Slinging your coat over your shoulders, you make your way to the backyard through the small door in the kitchen. You find Sugar pawing at the snow near the wall of what seems like Yoongi's window.

You pick him up and go back to the front door of the lodge, because you felt like taking a walk around the house in the deep snow. A shitty decision, which led to your feet and pants getting soggy.

Tiptoeing back to your room, you cleaned yourself up and realised the importance of arranging and planning clothes on a trip. Your pants were now completely wet so you had to put on your spare ones, with the thought in mind that you'll have to survive three more days in this place.

A trail of dirty water had made its way from the door to your room so when you opened your door, the sight that welcomed you was a horrified Yoongi. Instinctively, you took a step back. His expression was so fatal, you felt as if he might kill you right there for messing up his clean tiles.

"I , I'll clean it up. Sorry."

"No" he shouts while extending an arm in front of him and stepping back.

"No, I'll do it myself. No matter what, you are a guest. Just remember to use the doormat and the cloth beside the door the next time you set your foot out." he said in a comparatively lower voice and ran away quickly.

And all this while, all you could do was stare at him dumbfoundedly.

Yoongi cleaned up the whole place in a jiffy while you set on the task to tidy up your room, not wanting to be anywhere near him after the deed you had done.

It was around noon when the dire need of quenching your thirst pulled you out of your room and brought you straight to the kitchen. Yoongi was standing in front of the stove chopping some onions. You sneakily went up beside him and asked with your smallest voice yet

"What are you making?"

Yoongi jumped at your voice and accidentally cut his finger. He stared at you with eyes as wide as saucers while fresh drops of blood peeked through his cut.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." You frantically let out while moving around to do something that might help him.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just please stand there quietly and don't do unnecessary work." he said and shoved his finger under the running tap, occasionally flinching when the water ran too deep.

"Sorry" you mumbled and stood off to the side and watched him carefully wipe his finger once the blood had stopped. You held out a band aid you had spotted in a drawer during your frantic search, which he snatched quickly and dressed his cut.

"Pasta."

"Huh?" your eyebrows joined due to your utterly confused state.

"You asked what I was making. It's pasta." he said and got back to chopping onions, ones which surprisingly, didn't water your eyes. You had asked a question? Oh right, that's how this mishap happened.

"Right. How, how can I help you?"

"You can't. So it's better if you don't."

"I can, I know how to cook. Please let me do something Yoongi, I feel bad." you instinctively brought your hand up to his forearm, to which he responded by looking away.

He pondered over the excuses for a whole moment, before letting out a relatively dumb one.

"I need to bring some things for the sauce, there's nothing you can even do so leave it." he said while looking everywhere but you. You brightened up as the light bulb of an idea went off above your head.

"Perfect." you chimed.

"No." he groaned as he understood your intentions and snapped his head back to you.

"Yes. Please, let me. I know my way around and I won't mess up this time." a pout on your lips was all he needed to again, look away.

You could see the hesitation on his face, but you were not the one to back away. Instead, you obediently stood there with your hand still on his arm.

"Okay. I'll give you the list. Just don't get lost on your way."

"Yes, chief." you saluted, with a giggle and scurried away to get your coat. You noticed how he pulled out a small pencil from the front drawer. What you didn't notice though, was the red color that shaded his ears.

—------------

The walk to the nearest grocery store was tiring as fuck. You had put on big gum boots to save yourself from the snow, which didn't help your walk at all. Yoongi had given you a small list of three to four items, and now is when you regret offering your help to him. Of Course he is annoying and of course you would like to get out of his lodge as soon as possible, but your humanitarian instincts, which made you human, kicked in, and you decided that helping him by going out in this gut wrenching cold was the best thing you could do.

A lone boy made his way out of the store when you went inside. The insides were brightly lit but seemingly devoid of people. You made your way around to collect all the things you needed and went up to the counter. Just then, a person decided to approach the dozing off cashier at the same time and crash into you.

Fortunately, only your purse flew out of your hands and landed at the said person's feet. He quickly picked it up while chanting "sorry" as a mantra and looked up at you from his crouched down position. A move that made him drop the purse again. This time though, he picked it up without dropping it back and straightened up to tower above you.

"I am so sorry, I didn't see you in my haste." A voice dipped in honey ringed in your ears when he spoke. His face rendered the regret he mentioned and you waved your hand dismissively.

"No worries. It was my fault too." A small smile found its way on your lips when his shoulders relaxed and eyes glimmered with relief.

He stretches his hand towards to counter to usher you forward, "After you, Ms.-"

"Y/N." you say while shimmying towards the now awake cashier.

"Minhyuk."

You give him a polite nod while paying for your things and then stepping aside to let him. He looked like he could star in movies. Towering at a little less than 6 feet, his face was well structured, with full lips and doe eyes. He was sturdily built and wore a sweatshirt with dark gray pants. His eyes gleamed brightly and a small smile never left his face.

"Y/N, you seem like a tourist."

"Is it that obvious?" you laugh and turn towards the door, hoping he follows you.

"Kind of, yeah. You are dressed up to go out, definitely not to buy groceries." he said while following you outside the store and letting out a light chuckle.

"I like an observant young man. What about you?"

"Do I like a lady who overdresses, definitely?"

His words make you blush deeply and you struggle to find your voice but still manage to emit a hearty chuckle at his words following it with

"I meant, are you a local, or a tourist?"

"Oh. Well I am kind of both. My grandparents live here, so I am here, in this town, at least once a year." he smiled while standing beside you and staring at the sky.

Just a few words of niceties with him were enough to sweep off the annoyance and embarrassment within you. Conversation with him grew steadily as you reached a crossroad, him going to the left and you heading ahead. A strange feeling inside you, a gleeful thought stopped you dead in your tracks and made you look back at him.

Only to find him looking at you with a soft smile while taking slow steps back which eventually came to a halt when he felt your stare. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, stammering to find an excuse, only for you to speak up.

"Minhyuk?"

"Yes?" his eyes softened upon seeing your shy smile.

"I'm a tourist. Would you mind being my guide around the town?" you asked sheepishly, almost in a whisper.

His eyebrows shoot up enough to get covered by the strands of soft hair falling on his forehead, but then suddenly his expression changed, softer than you had ever seen.

"I would love to."

—-----------

You return to the lodge with your biggest smile, which Yoongi notices right away, wondering what did a trip to the store do to make you so happy. You set your purchases on the kitchen counter while humming a bright tune and turn around to sink in the armchair across from the kitchen. Yoongi's suspicion only grew when you kept on checking your phone from time to time, while he prepared the sauce.

Half an hour had passed in a heartbeat, when he set a plate full of pasta in front of you, the pasta looking like it was made by a Michelin star chef. You immediately resorted to gulping down the food like a woman starved, mumbling praises for the chef, not knowing the said chef had turned red as a tomato. Just when he opened his mouth to mumble a small thanks, your phone ring went off with 'Minhyuk' flashing across the screen. You immediately accepted the call and excused yourself from the table, scurrying towards the back door and then out to the porch to talk with him.

Now, Yoongi wasn't one to indulge in others business, but your light hearted giggles and excited tone of talking fell to his ears like prickling thorns. Not that he despised your voice, no. He despised the fact that you never laughed in front of him. Shaking his head, he wondered where that thought even came from. He doesn't care about you or your sickly sweet giggles. Get yourself together, Yoongi he thought and started focusing on his pasta, trying to not eavesdrop on your way too loud conversation.

After ten minutes, you returned back to a cold dish and a similar Yoongi. His back was turned to you while he was doing the dishes.

"I didn't make them for you to leave them just like that." he grumbled, though it seemed like he was talking more to himself than you.

"I had something I needed to take care of. By the way, I already said the pasta was good." you ate the said food, even if it was cold.

Yoongi very well knew that nothing was being taken care of by the way the conversation sounded. He scoffed at your words and continued his work when suddenly you spoke up again, this time, raging a storm within him.

"Don't make dinner for me today, I am going out -" you told him quietly and grimaced when he snapped his head back at you.

"On a date." you continued.

"You were here for hardly a day and have already snagged a date? Impressive."

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words and at his new found bitterness. Why did he even care? It's not as if you both were friends that you needed to tell him about each and every encounter of yours with a guy.

"What is your problem? Am I commenting on your ways of living?"

"That's because I live pretty normally, unlike you."

"Oh Mr. Yoongi, you'd be surprised to know how normally you live." you say while making air quotes around normally.

At this moment, you both were face to face with each other, him being slightly taller than you. You could see his eyes narrow a bit and hands curl into fists, chest rising up and falling down due to the storm inside him and ears red, hopefully due to the anger. He could see your determined eyes and face, contorted in frustration. You take out your tongue to wet your lower lip, which had gone dry due to the cold, his eyes momentarily following that movement until he snapped his eyes back up to yours.

"You know what? Go and date that goody two shoes of yours."

"You know what? I will." were the last words you said as you fled from the room and away from him.

As Yoongi watched you go to your room, he tried to reason his own actions. Why had he acted in such a way? What had raged a storm inside of him? He was not able to wrap his mind around that, still standing at that same place as he was when you left.

—------------

It has been two days since your last interaction with Yoongi. He didn't seem to care to come to call you for breakfast or lunch anymore. You never saw him except for the occasional moments when you both passed each other in the kitchen.

You hit it off well with Minhyuk and thus planned to extend your stay by some more days to see where it goes. You liked him, but you both were not in a relationship yet, given the fact that you had gone on just two dates. He lived in Seoul, so if something got serious between the two of you, it wouldn't be difficult. Given the fact that he was planning to stay at his grandparents for a week more, and since you had nothing good to do at home, you planned to stay. Another reason to prolong your trip was that if things weren't to work out, you didn't want to take that back with you to Seoul. If you needed to end things, you'd better do it in a place you were most likely not to visit again than at a place which would remind you of him and your memories.

So you set on searching Yoongi around the lodge, to inform him about the change in your plans. The snow had cleared off a lot by now, the road and plants peeking from here and there. Even the cold had settled down to a bearable extent. As you continued your search, you found him crouched down near the strawberry plantation which lay in front of the lodge, one you had almost trampled on your first night here.

His back was turned to you so you creeped up beside him and cleared your throat to inform him of your presence. When he looked up at you, his eyebrows were furrowed, seemingly in concern, while he held a shriveled up and damaged strawberry in his hand. He cocked an eyebrow at you, his way to inform you why you decided to interrupt him while he took care of his precious strawberries.

"I am not leaving." Shit that sounded so bad. Both of you grimaced together, as soon as those words left your mouth.

"I mean, I am staying here for a week more. So extend my rent accordingly."

"You are staying here for this long? Why?"

"I -, I, umm, kind of, for Minhyuk." grimacing 2.0. Who the fuck talks like this Y/N? Get your act together, girl.

"I, We are kind of doing well and I am on leave already, from work. So I decided to stay longer."

The rising feeling in Yoongi's stomach when you had mentioned your prolonged stay, settled down as soon as you mentioned the reason.

"Oh, okay. As you wish." he said meekly and turned his attention back to the dying fruit in his hand.

You observed the way his expression softened, a concerned and scared one taking the place of the annoyed, bitter one. His hands trembled a bit as he set the strawberry down and let out a deep sigh, moving on to examine the next one. This one was worse than the previous one. The snow shone from the little crevices of the berry and the red color had faded to a dark brown, the leaves all dark and shriveled up. When you let your eyes trail around you, you saw that the whole patch was covered with the remnants of the snow. Chunks of the leftover snow were clearly visible amidst the strawberries which were now poorly affected by the sudden change in the weather.

"They are not doing well due to the snow." you speak out your concerns loud but in a cautious voice as he keeps down the fruit and stands up straight.

"Yes. Usually they can bear the cold, but not this much though." his eyes had gone dry and seemed tired. There was no sign of mirth on his face, he was drowned in sadness and concern for his dying strawberries. A soft, low chuckle resonated from him as he continued

"My grandfather used to take care of them. He was so efficient and he loved the strawberries like his own children. He talked to them, watered them, took care of them, all out of pure love and affection. He never sold them, even though they were the best in our town. He used to give baskets full of strawberries to people as gifts and blessings. He would have found a cure for them today, wouldn't have let them die, like I am, unfortunately." he finished with sadness engulfing him.

"Your grandfather must have been an amazing man."

"He was, indeed." and a soft, lone smile etched his lips as he reminisced about his late grandfather. "But I am not, as the berries are now dying because of my lack of care and knowledge."

You didn't know you'd ever think this, but he looked like an angel at that moment. Even with his features drowned in worry and sadness, his aura radiated peace and a strange sense of comfort that pulled you into him. You wanted to engulf him in a warm hug and tell him that everything will be okay, the strawberries will live on and he is not letting them die, just like his grandfather.

You fish out your phone from your back pocket as your habit, when an idea strikes you.

"Yoongi…" you begin way too enthusiastically. He hums to let you know he is listening, so you continue, "I have an idea."

He immediately looks up at you with big, round, hopeful eyes.

"An…an idea?"

"Yes. Do you know any place in this town where I can use the internet? My phone's network is out of reach."

"Umm, yes. There are many cafes in the main city which will provide you with internet, but…" he seems genuinely curious which only increases on seeing the cheeky grin on your face as he continues, "...what's the point?"

You groan, audibly groan, tired of the man not being able to pick up a simple thing.

"Ughhh Yoongi! I can use the internet to help you. It will give me ideas on how to save these strawberries of yours. What are you? A boomer?"

His eyes widen with amusement and a small smile plays on his lips which is soon wiped off by his furrowed eyebrows.

"But, why would you help me?"

"Unlike you…" you begin with a roll of your eyes, "I am a good person, who likes to help people…" his turn to roll his eyes, "...regardless of their previous behaviour." you finish with a lopsided grin and sparkling eyes which pulls him towards you, but he stands his ground.

"Are you sure?" you nod eagerly, which still doesn't convince him as his expression doesn't change.

You walk towards him and put your hand on his arm, surprised by the feeling of taut muscles under your fingers. Yoongi is not buff, but seems like he is really well built.

"I am." Just these two words seal the deal for you both as he nods shyly and ducks his head to look away, grumbling a small 'thank you' and then moving away from you.

You stand there dumbfounded by his strange behaviour, the one where he was incredibly soft, like a squishy bear. Stop it, Y/N, your inner voice shouts as soon as you think this, but you still keep on staring at your fingertips, missing the warmth they felt previously.

—------------

"Are you sure about this?"

"A hundred percent. Just hold my hand, Y/N."

You glaze your eyes over the vast ice rink in front of you and your knees threaten to give up. Apparently, Minhyuk decided that for your fourth date, you should go ice skating, a sport you miserably fail at, and a fact he was unaware of. Two small girls move slowly around the edge of the rink, holding the railing to support themselves, and occasionally giggling and falling. A young couple, moving smoothly across the ice, hand in hand and eyes holding stars for the other.

Watching them, your stomach sinks a level deeper. You and him are going well, but he still fails to occupy your thoughts continuously. You have convinced yourself that the fact you are not thinking about him does not mean that you don't want to be with him, or give it a try, but the rom com infested part of your brain dares to oppose and puts you into a mess of thoughts and emotions you can't sort out.

You pull out your phone to stop these thoughts, and a notification succeeds in doing so.

'Free Wi Fi available near you. Tap to connect.'

You quickly connect to the open, free wi fi of the skating rink and start seeing images of a certain pink flash of gums in your mind. Smiling to yourself, you start surfing the internet, failing to give attention to the man in front of you, who calls you for the fourth time. Giving up, he snatches the phone from your hand and you snap from your daze.

"Strawberries?" he looks at you and then back to the phone, repeating the action twice to ensure the sight in front of him, "... tips on defrosting them?" he gives you your phone back as he might have realised that asking you about things you haven't cared about telling him means you don't want to, especially on your fourth date. But he still continues, "I thought you were an editor of a fashion magazine. Thinking of switching to a farmer?" he finished with an amused smile.

"Shut up." you smack his forearm and usher him towards the ticket counter. "I am just trying to help a friend in need."

A friend.

You don't know why you said it. Actually, you don't know many things. You don't know what you and Yoongi are. You don't know why he is on your mind when your potential future boyfriend is standing in front of you. You don't know if he thinks about you as frequently as you do about him. You don't know what he is doing right now. You don't know that back home, Yoongi is trying to divert his mind from the fact that you are on a date, from the sting he feels, from the touch you left on his arm, a burning surface which he rubs again and again, partly to ward off your touch and partly to feel it again, somewhere else.

"Indeed." Minhyuk says and brings you back to the dread in front of you, skating.

He advances towards the benches to wear the equipment, as you follow him absentmindedly. The date goes on, um, well from then on. You like it, you do, but you don't enjoy it the way you expected to. Minhyuk is indeed a gentleman. The only problem, he is way too much of a gentleman. When your feet slipped and your knees gave up, he failed to steady your fall as his grip on your hand was loose. He soon apologized for it, excusing his lack of action as shyness in holding you as you might feel uncomfortable. He literally said these words, leaving you speechless to this poor of a reason.

You soon gave up on it and settled on a bench nearby to the rink. You sure did share some good moments with him, but none of them were able to light a spark within you, or make you watch at him in awe, or even shyness. It all felt a little too… platonic. A feeling had you enraptured, that maybe he is just good as a friend, an amazing friend, as you both hit it off well. But the aspect of dating him didn't sit well with you, especially when he sat down beside you, his hands undoing his skates but his eyes elsewhere.

A tall, blonde woman reciprocated his stare and gave a bright smile at his sight. She soon made it over to the bench you both were at and waved happily, Minhyuk quickly setting aside his skates and standing up to greet her with a hug.

You? Oh, you were sitting there forlornly, even though you were not alone, as he struck up a conversation with her, one that had both of them double over by laughing. You knew nothing about what to do in a situation where your date is entertaining another woman and forgetting to introduce you to her.

You took your time in undoing your skates so that you had something to do when luckily, to save you of the embarrassment, she turns towards you and extends a hand forward.

"Hey, I'm Yerin." a tone dipped in honey talks to you when she opens her mouth.

"I'm Y/N. Nice meeting you." you clasp her soft hand into yours and are glad that you didn't stammer.

"Oh yeah. Yeji this is Y/N my date and Y/N, she is Yerin my …. ex girlfriend." Minhyuk states a bit uneasily as he moves his hand between the both of you, succeeding in doing an awkward introduction.

The last part of his sentence comes out in a whisper but it was something you had guessed by the way his eyes gleamed at her sight, his ears and cheeks flushed red when he hugged her and teeth peeking out in a handsome smile at every little joke she made.

Her eyes widen at his words, but she masks her surprise well except for one thing. Her eyes reflect her pain that even her wide smile isn't able to cover. She is hurt by the fact that he is here with his date, you. But she knows better than to act on it, so the conversation flows smoothly.

Yeji is an absolutely gorgeous woman. Throughout your whole interaction, she has been nothing but kind to you and her ex. When she leaves, her hug with Minhyuk seems to last longer, an act that brings a soft smile to your face. He stared at her back until she was out of sight, mixed with the crowd now leaving the rink. He looked back at you with a tight lipped smile and guided you towards the exit, without any words. His heart is still somewhere else, but his hands are on the small of your back. Out of all this, you were sure of one thing, which was obvious to each and every eye around them.

Both of them were still in love with each other.

As you had hoped, this revelation did not sting you or made you feel jealous. Instead, you felt a weird sense of relief, partly because the confusing storm inside you had subsided as clarity shone brightly through your mind, and partly for a reason you don't know.

None of you say a word but each and every time you look at him, his eyes hold a forlorn stare, a longing you were able to place right away when you mentioned how nice Yeji was and his face brightened up immediately.

"We broke up a while ago when she had to go to Europe. She was planning to settle down there but returned recently. I didn't know she was back until now. Even though she lives in Seoul, I don't know what she was doing here." he says while walking down the road to the lodge with you.

"Is she with anyone else?"

"I don't know. I hope…" he shakes his head to get that thought out of his head and instead continues, "We haven't talked in a long while. I don't know what she is doing now." his eyes never meet yours and you have never been sure of anything before.

He doesn't hug you goodbye, nor do you, when you reach the front entrance. His eyes glaze over the strawberry patch and he gives you a knowing smile before heading away with a small wave as a goodbye.

You take a deep breath and start walking towards the door with a thing set in your mind. That day, at the store, you found an amazing friend, but not a person you could develop any romantic feelings for, and he knows that now.

—------------

It's been two days since you officially stopped going on dates with him. You haven't stopped seeing him, though. But everything is strictly platonic. He told you today that he will try talking to Yeji again about their relationship and you have never been more happy for him.

On the other hand, Yoongi doesn't know a single thing about what is going on between you two. He doesn't know that you had found a friend in a guy he thought would be your boyfriend. You still go out to meet him and Yoongi's heart still sinks deeper with each action of yours.

The sun was hiding in the clouds today, playing a game of hide and seek with everyone trying to receive its warmth. The strawberries were getting better day by day. Both of you worked on them, without sharing a single word among yourselves. Each and every time you told him something, he'd reply with a curt nod or painfully short replies. You didn't even see him much nowadays, except for the occasional run ins during meals or at the strawberry patch.

You set Sugar down on the carpet of the living floor, who had run up to you as soon as you had entered the lodge. Once again, he was nowhere to be seen. You go to your room and get ready to sulk. You could've left early but you wanted to see the progress of the fruits, which is amazing and the berries are not dying now. Yoongi's actions make you doubt your stay. Unlike before, he doesn't even look your way now. No knocks on your door to call you for your meals, no fun interactions while cooking and eating, no playing with Sugar in front of you, nothing.

You feel like you have overstayed your welcome. Even though you are gonna pay for it, you don't have any particular reason to stay here longer. Your boss doesn't need you back at work right away, but the person you are staying with also doesn't need you. So it’d be better if you saved your money by not spending it on accommodation you don't even need in the first place.

Each and every time you make up your mind to leave that day, your heart opposes it. Each and every time you close your eyes, a sight of pink gums and feline eyes greets you. Each and every time you drown out the unnecessary voice around you, a low, deep laugh rings in your ears. It aches your heart. All of these things keep on breaking you slowly. You can't seem to reason his distance from you, his dislike for you. So, to soothe the dying pain in your chest, you open your door to go to his room, maybe to talk with him, or maybe to just soak yourself in his presence.

As soon as you open your door, a plate of food greets you just outside the threshold. It was 2pm and you hadn't had lunch yet, a fact Yoongi knew. Due to your recent unspoken arrangement, he didn't come to call you, or even knock at your door. He just set that plate outside your room because somewhere he knew, you weren't going to have your meals on time. Everything blurs in front of you as the tears form in your eyes.

Your actions recently are something you are not able to explain, even to yourselves. Why do you feel the need to cry? Especially on seeing that Yoongi cares for you? He is just a friend right? A friend you haven't talked to in the last four days, despite living in the same house. A friend you don't even know is a friend anymore or not?

You miss your friend. His annoying grumbling and sickly irritating smile. His know-it-all behaviour and instances of flushed cheeks and shiny eyes. His feel beneath your fingertips whenever you touched him. His adorable look when he watches you play with Sugar, a thing you had noticed twice before. You missed Yoongi so much, it was hard to stay in the same place as him knowing that you can't do anything. Knowing that you can't embrace him, can't talk to him about your day, can't joke with him anymore, can't tell him the things running in your mind, can't kiss him.

Of course you don't know where the thought to kiss him came from. But now that it has, it's the only thing in your mind and it's eating you up so bad, you take the plate in front of you and eat the contents quietly while going back to your bed. As soon as you end it, you start packing up your things. You need to get out of here as soon as you can as staying here longer is not good for you, your heart, your mind and maybe, Yoongi.

As you go through your things, you find out that one of your cardigans is missing. Not dwelling too much on a missing piece of cloth, you take your time in packing up and get ready by 3.30 pm. The only thing you want to do now is see Yoongi. You ready an envelope with the money you owe him and head towards his room, your luggage already at the front door.

You knock on his door thrice, none answered. So you slowly turn the handle and push open his door, only to find him sleeping peacefully on his bed. You walk up to him and a swarm of butterflies rises in your stomach when you see the thing in his hands, while sleeping.

Your missing cardigan is clutched closely to his chest by him, his head dipping unconsciously towards it and him inhaling the scent. Your scent, to be precise. He looks at peace while sleeping soundly as he holds a piece of you with himself, both, literally and metaphorically. You observe him and find traces of dried up tears on his cheeks. He was crying. And you were not worthy to be told about his miseries. Maybe you should leave right now, so he doesn't have to face you again.

You painfully keep the envelope on his bedside table and lean down to kiss his forehead but stop midway, instead blowing him a flying kiss and scurrying out of the room. Of course, the cardigan was a mistake. If he found even an ounce of comfort in you, he wouldn't have distanced himself from you like this. Maybe the soft material comforted him as he was clearly in dire need of it. You have added a short note in the envelope, to explain your sudden departure. Not wanting to face him ever again, you rush to the main door.

A new wave of tears hit you when you meet Sugar pawing your luggage at the door. You are leaving so much behind that you feel incomplete as you pick Sugar up to cuddle him one last time before leaving. As soon as you kiss his head, a sleepy voice startles you.

"Y/N." Yoongi says while rubbing his eyes as he stands in the hallway, outside his bedroom.

He opens his eyes and looks at you in confusion. Then, his eyes rake over the luggage at your feet and a strong wave of panic washes over him. He visibly shivers and his eyes start getting glossy.

"Are you leaving me?" he asks in the most painful voice ever, his eyes open wide and lips trembling, hands twitching by his side and eyebrows furrowed.

Your heart shatters into a million pieces on seeing him, hearing him and over the aspect of confronting him. You stay quiet as he approaches you with quick long strides and holds your shoulders with both his hands, shaking you out of your daze and yells,

"Are you leaving me?"

You give him no answer again. All you do is stare at him, trying to keep your eyes devoid of any emotions. He shakes you violently this time,

"Fucking answer me, can't you hear me? Are. You. Leaving?" he shouts at a voice so loud, something snaps inside you.

"Yes." you shout back, louder than him, as his hands slide down your shoulders and return back to his side. "Yes, I am leaving." you complete by sniffling your tears.

He doesn't take your answer well and stumbles backwards, almost colliding with the armchair behind him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before closing his fists and opening his eyes again.

"Why?" a voice merely louder than a whisper comes out of him.

"Why? Yoongi? Are you really asking me this?"

He looks up at you in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I think I overstayed my welcome. And, I also need to go back to work now, so I have to leave." Thank god you didn't stutter, but that wasn't enough for him.

"Bullshit." he spits out, while moving towards you.

"It's not."

"It is. I can clearly see that you are lying. What's the real reason Y/N ?" he presses, his voice increasing by every second.

"You wanna know the real reason?!" you mumble, a light scoff punctuating your words.

"Yes. Yes I do." he shouts, now way too near you, your noses almost touching. "Do you think I'll believe you? One second you are staying here for a guy, going on dates with him and the next you pack up your bags saying you overstayed your welcome? That now suddenly your work is calling you. I haven't once said you that - "

"I am not dating him anymore." you cry out and he shuts up.

"What?" genuine curiosity dripped from his voice.

"We called it off a while ago. I was trying to tell you that but you were not ready to hold a conversation with me, ever." your eyes land at the armchair behind him.

You need to continue, need to get it out before you leave. You can't let him shout at you and just stand there, burying your anger while he lets it all out. You straighten up and stop your tears completely, look him straight in his eyes and jab your index at his chest.

"You wanted to know the real reason, right?" without waiting for him to answer, you continue, your new found confidence fueling your words, "It's you."

"Huh?"

It hurts when you look at him like this. He looks like a lost puppy, eyes wide and pleasing, face flushed red and his whole body trembling. Your lips tremble and tears threaten to fall out, but you brace yourselves.

"Yes. Oh my god Yoongi…" you pull away from him, start moving around and gesture vaguely with your hands, as you get hyped up about how indifferent he is right now. "... You act like you literally hate me. You can't even come and talk to me, even when I try to…"

"Y/N"

"... And then you have the fucking nerve to ask me that why am I leaving? I know, I know you don't like interacting with strangers but I…" you let the first tear fall down, "I thought we were more than that. Clearly, I was mistaken."

He stands still, trying to comprehend your outburst. Giving up, though you should not, but you do, you collect your luggage and trudge towards the main door, which is like three steps away.

Faster than light, Yoongi runs and stands between you and the door. He pleads with his eyes, he pleads with his body language, he pleads with his hands, he pleads by shaking his head. The only thing he is yet to plead with, is his words.

"Step. Aside." you grit through your teeth.

"No."

"Fucking step aside. Can't you listen to me atleast once?"

"No." he shouts.

"At Least say something else, you coward. You are chanting the same word like a mantra. Do you even know how much I am…" your voice raises suddenly and you finally snap for the worst, " … dying to hear you? Your irritating laugh? Your annoying words? Why the fuck are you saying just no, from those sickly sweet lips of yours? I never thought I would say this, Yoongi, but I really think I made a mistake by attaching myself to you. I think I have started to lo-" you catch yourself in time and lean forwards, nose almost brushing with his, "It hurts so much to know that you don't feel the same…" you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, "That you'll never feel the same, that you'll never-"

His lips drown out your next words as he smashes them onto yours. The action was swift but it melted you in an instant and when he started moving his lips against yours, you reciprocated his actions. The kiss walked a fine line between rough and gentle. His actions, ever so sweet but fiery at the same time. An electric feeling jolted you, providing you with a new found ecstasy. The warmth from his soft lips doused you into a feeling of summer in the death of winter. You felt a burst of so many emotions, all at once, everything was overwhelming. Even though all of these things were happening at the same time, you didn't want to stop. But fuck oxygen, then.

He pulled away from you and rested his forehead against yours.

A beat passed. The silence was so loud, your heartbeat was audible clearly, mixed with the erratic beating of his. Yoongi chose it as the perfect time to break the silence by-

"I love you."

Time stops. Not in the cheesy way but it really does. You can't seem to breathe, but you also can't seem to take your eyes away from him. You could count his eyelashes, observe the slope of his nose, remember each and every contour of his face from up this close. His closed lids let you stare at him a moment longer, but when he opens them, your heart somersaults and threatens to fall to the ground.

He loves you.

The realization hits a million times harder than you had ever imagined. Have you ever been this happy? Everything seems hazy around you. When you meet his eyes, the only thing that is going on in your mind is Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi, I love you too. But before you can let the words out, your love, your object of undying affection, is cupping your cheek in his rather big, but oh so warm hands.

"Y/N?" he was unsure, scared. Afraid that you will push him away, his warmth and finally stop his heart from breathing after it has sunk down this low in all these days. Maybe he needs it, he thinks. He needed you to reject him to move on, to get you out of his mind, heart, life, everything. Maybe he misread your outburst as affection? As you had stayed quiet for so long now, he doubted everything he had ever known, his heart breaking into a thousand pieces and a sinking feeling settling itself in his chest. You need to react in some way or else he will die just looking at you being so dreamy and awestruck, confused. His string of thoughts was cut short by your mouth.

This time, it was you who initiated the kiss. You did it, for you didn't know how else to respond to him and maybe for the feeling in your chest that compelled you to do so, pulled by his thin but plump, soft lips and his strange love for you. As they say, actions speak louder than words. No words could describe what you wanted to say to him, and so, you resorted to acting on your instincts.

The kiss heated up quickly as he glided his tongue along your lips, asking for entrance, which you gave eagerly. He kissed you like a man starved and he just seemed to get more hungry when you let out a low moan in his mouth. His hands landed at your waist as he pulled you into him more and kneaded the flesh there. They travelled past your curves to your thighs, as he patted them once and held them in a position to hoist you up. You quickly caught onto him and hoisted yourself up, your legs wrapped around his tiny waist as his lips never left yours, scared you'll run away or he will wake up from this dream if he let that warmth disappear.

But, even if life comes from you, it doesn't and he has to pull away. Instead, he settles to leave a trail of hot kisses down your jawline, sucking and kissing at places that have you crumbling in his hold as you let out erratic moans and whimpers.

"Do you, do you want to?" he whispers slowly in your ear and nibbles at the earlobe.

You nod eagerly and tug at the hair at the nape of his neck as you had wrapped your hands around it. You feel his hardening bulge and set your face in the crook of his neck, reciprocating his ministrations. He leaves a small kiss on your shoulder and heads towards his bedroom.

He places you on the bed and hovers above you, his knee parting your legs and sliding up to the place where you need him the most. His hands move under your shirt as he attaches his lips to yours again. Slowly, his fingertips graze the outer edge of your bra and you fight back a shiver, as his knee hits the spot between your thighs.

You were sure he could feel your arousal on his knee when he groaned in your mouth, breaking the kiss to pepper some of them at your collarbone. Your panties were sticking to your core and his occasional groans turned you on even more. You rolled your hips on his knee and he had to pin you down by your waist to stop you from grinding against him.

"You're so greedy, baby." he chuckled and you thought you might never breathe again at the tone of his voice and the pet name slipping past his lips so effortlessly. He was hardening by each passing second and you could feel it on your stomach, the feeling disappearing when he started moving down, leaving open mouthed kisses on your clothed chest.

He reached the hem of your shirt and took it in between his teeth, looking at you with a hooded gaze. His eyes had turned so dark, your breath hitched in your throat on meeting them. That's when you realised that he is asking for your permission. You nod once and look away, not being able to hold his gaze for so long.

He moved the shirt with his mouth above your breasts, feasting on the view of them fitting snugly in your black lace bra. His hands moved without thought when he groped one of your boobs in his hand, molding the soft flesh through the thin material. He latched his mouth on the other clothed nipple of yours, you letting out a loud whimper at it. He pulled down the cup with his mouth and latched his hot lips on your now hardened nipple. His hand moved to your waist and arched your back, the other going behind you and tugging on the hook. Eventually, he had to free his other hand and unhook your lingerie, throwing it in a random direction.

He sat back on his heels, taking in the sight in front of him. Your form panting breathlessly, woven in his sheets, half naked, only for him. You looked at him through your lashes and made vague gestures with your hands to beckon him to you. His length was rock hard in his sweatpants as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and his heart threatened to give up. Your lips all swollen due to the excessive kissing, your breasts beautifully out in front of him, with nipples hardened and wet with his saliva. His cock twitched when you mewled on the lack of touch.

"Oh god, Y/N." he groaned and attached himself again to your chest, licking a stripe across the valley between your boobs. This time, his hands moved to the buttons of your jeans. He bit on your nipple, as if asking you to speak.

"Yes. Oh, yes, Yoongi." you cried out due to the pain and pleasure.

He moved swiftly as he rid you of your jeans and panties. He smirked at your arousal, sticking shamelessly to your panties as they moved till your thighs and broke the string with his finger. He brought that finger till his mouth and licked it clean, removing it with a pop sound.

"So tasty, sweetheart." maybe you were bound to be dead soon as his actions took away your breath by each passing second.

"You are so wet. All for me?" he closed his eyes and dipped down, kissing and nipping at the skin of your inner thighs.

You were so driven by pleasure, you forgot to answer him, instead letting out short breaths and moans as he brought his hand to your mouth and put his finger between your lips. He puckered your lips with his hand and bit at your skin, emitting a high pitched moan from you.

"Answer me, sweetheart." you could feel, rather than see his smirk.

"Yes, all .. for … you." you were no longer in your right mind when he brought his mouth dangerously near to your centre. His hands left your mouth as he brought them to your folds and parted them easily with his long, steady fingers. He dipped one particularly long one in your dripping core as you whimpered and moaned like a mess, your back arching upwards.

"Mhmm. All mine." he said with eyes closed in ecstasy as his finger started moving in and out of you. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, skillfully and you shouted in ecstasy. The mouth which was before at your thigh was now breathing against your pussy, as he licked a long stripe across your folds and around his finger, still inside you. He plunged one more of his digit inside you as his lips latched at your clit.

He moved so skillfully, more than your hands could ever do. The muscles in his arms flexed as he continued moving in and out of you with a set, beautiful rhythm. Your cunt dripped more and more at his ministrations and the praises he let out about you taking him so well and tasting so sweet. He increased his pace and you almost fell apart under him.

His lips never left your clit, you shouting loudly at the stimulation, and his fingers were doused with your arousal upto his forearms, but he didn't stop at all.

"I've wanted to do this for so long, my love." he mumbles against your hardened nub, sending shivers up your spine. "You taste so nice, I could do this all day." he says as he sets the perfect rhythm of his fingers and tongue, both moving in a perfectly choreographed dance across your folds.

"Yoongi, I.." you let out between short breaths, your chest rising up and down dangerously fast," I can't, please, I am close."

"Already? Are you sure you'll be able to take all of me inside you?" he chuckles and his words are more than enough to push you over the edge.

You fall apart in his hold, as his free hand holds one of yours and pins it down to the mattress. He laps at your juices oozing out non stop as you come on his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you shut them and let out a loud cry.

It feels ecstatic. Something so strong, you have never felt. You feel like you're on the clouds with how lightheaded you feel, his mouth still not stopping down there. The orgasm hits you like none other. He had the ability to make you fall apart in his hold but still hold you together, all while making your head spin with the feeling. You squirm in his hand and squeeze his hand tightly due to the overstimulation as he was still not thinking to stop.

"Yoongi. Stop."

He sits back and licks his glossy lips, all covered with your essence. He smiles softly at you and a rose blooms in your chest, the petals ever so soft, devoid of thorns, all perfect in his presence. He kisses you tenderly and you move your hands to his chest. That's when you realize he is fully clothed. You grab his shirt in between your hands and mumble with your brows furrowed, your lips all red and pouty.

"Want this off."

He laughs at you being an adorable mess and moves to rid himself of his clothes. He stands up and undresses completely, his cock slapping against his taut abdomen as he discards his boxers. As he gets back to nipping at your neck, marking all the sweet spots, you palm his cock. He lets out a surprised moan against your earlobe, which spurs you on to move your hand across his length. You glide your thumb past his tip and spread the precum collected over there. He lets out low moans against your throat as you let your hand slide down to his balls, cupping them.

He moans loudly and then, suddenly holds your wrist to stop you from going any further. He brings your hand up and intertwines your fingers with his, them fitting together like a lost piece of puzzle and pins your hands above your head. You stare at him with confused eyes as he kisses your forehead.

"Next time, baby." he says as he kisses your nose, "Want to show you how much I love you." and he presses a chaste kiss on your lips before he is moving again.

He opens his bedside drawer and fishes out a foil packet. He slowly slides the condom over his veiny cock and settles himself between your legs. He takes his time kissing you slowly while his tip grazes your entrance.

"Can I?" he mumbles into the kiss.

"Yes, Yoongi." you cup his cheek and kiss his nose as he enters you, both of you moaning at the contact. He enters you slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out. You squirm in your place, your breaths erratic and hands clawing his back. He gives you a second to adjust to his length and when you say a small 'yes', he starts moving slowly but deeply.

He stretches you out deliciously as his cock hits the right spots, you a mess under him. But still, he is painfully slow as he tenderly kisses the spots from below your ear, upto your breastbone. You need something more and so, you start wiggling your hips, to try to get some more action. He notices it and stops kissing you, instead pinning both your hands above your head and biting at your lower lip.

"Love, you want me to go faster?" he lets out an airy chuckle as he increases his pace. But yet, you know he can do more as you try to free your hands from his hold.

"Yoongi." a string of moans pass you as he holds both your hands in one of his, and slides the other between your legs to rub at your clit. He now sets an animalistic pace, one that has you shouting in pleasure and him chanting your name like a mantra while rutting his hips against yours.

A tear or two slips from your eyes as the familiar knot starts building in your stomach. He must have felt you being close as he groaned in the crook of your neck, your cunt squeezing him perfectly. The feeling all too heavenly. He fit inside you perfectly, him hitting your g spot with each and every thrust as his eyes held the world whenever you looked into them.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the spot joining you to him, his heart giving out and him reveling in you.

"Oh, fuck." It felt like a fever dream, feeling you around him, moaning his name and looking at him with love and lust, a perfect combination, only for him. He could feel your upcoming orgasm, so he increased his pace to an unforgivable extent.

"I'm, I'm close." you were hardly able to form words but still let out the warning for him.

"You're so fucking tight." and that was the last straw for you as the knot snapped and your climax hit you, harder than the first one. You went limp in his hands and your body threatened to pass out from your high. The euphoric feeling didn't seem to stop as you literally saw stars in front of your eyes, him still not stopping.

"Y/N, shit." your walls were clenching around him tightly when you orgasmed and as you came down from your high, you could feel his thrusts getting sloppier and his pace faltering. He continued for some moments before, the overstimulation pulling out a shriek from you, before he let out a string of expletives and collapsed over you, filling up the condom.

He stayed there, in the crook of your neck and let his breathing get normal. He kisses your shoulder once before pulling out, both of you cringing at the feeling and rolls off you. He discarded the condom and came back beside you. All this while, you were a total euphoric mess. You almost dozed off when you felt the mattress sink beside you, indicating his return.

He pulled you in by his arms around your waist and rested his head in the space between your neck and collarbone as your back hit his chest. He started in a low whisper, his lips grazing your ear lobe,

"I might be a terrible person. I might have caused you a ton of pain. I might be a terrible person for always hiding behind a fake stature, cause I am scared. I was so fucking scared that you will never acknowledge me, or my feelings…" you turn back to face him and look him in his eyes, all glossy and scared but hopeful and loving at the same time, "but now that i am less scared, i wanted to tell you, that I love you. I love you so fucking much that it's the only thing i can think of. When you, " he takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers, both of you staring at them fitting together. He brought your hands to his chest and continued, "When you told me you were staying here longer for him, I lost hope. So I distanced myself from you, in hopes of not letting you affect me more. But all this space only made me fall for you more, Y/N. Please, I beg you to let me love you. Can you please do the same?" he finished as he kissed your each and every knuckle.

The setting sun emanated a soft glow in the room, through the half curtained windows. The golden light reflecting off his face deemed him to be an angel, the almost invisible halo around him feeding the fact. As you stared in the depths of his glossy eyes, you realised he was undressing himself, his thoughts, his fears, in hope that you will embrace his true form without hesitation. And you'd be a true fool to let him down when your own heart yearns for that scared, loving, true man. You bring your intertwined hands to your mouth and press a chaste kiss on his hand,

"I love you, Yoongi." you smiled when his eyes lighted up and he pulled you in more, if possible. "The distance brought an epiphany to both of us, and I'd be stupid to not acknowledge it. Your gummy smile, cheesy laugh, those crinkly cat-like eyes were the only things in my mind whenever I closed my eyes. And I guess, I've really come to love them, like they are my own, mine."

"Mine."

He kisses you like you were made of glass, delicate and special. You break the hold of your hands and swing it across his torso, engulfing him in a hug and nuzzling your nose to his chest. He giggles softly and hugs you back, sniffing the scent of your hair, the scent of you.

"So, what do you think? Are you still leaving?" he asks playfully while caressing your hair.

You look up at him through your lashes and pat his chest, your words this time directly aimed at the thing alive beneath it.

"I think I am going to..." you kiss his chest twice as both of you laugh heartily at your silly action. You rest your head against it and close your eyes, reveling in the moment of peace, as you finish announcing your oh so obvious decision.

"Stay."

---

a/n : Hello everyone. This is my first fic ever. Thank You so much for reading it. It will be really nice if you could leave any kind of feedback, any way will be okay :))

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p.s. if you want me to add you to the taglist of my future fics - pls reply to this post or just fill out this form and I'll add u <3

#min yoongi #bts smut #smut #bts fanfction #one shot #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x female reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #s2l #bts #sugarwithtea #stay swt #bts fanfic #suga #suga fanfic #suga x reader

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bts-0t-7 · 5 months

Text

Breaking Bonds | PJM Mini Series Masterlist

Pair: Fae Jimin x Nymph reader

Summary: Stripped from your own birthright, you suffer at the hands of your people. But after all, you couldn’t blame them. Having enough, you left in the middle of the snowy days but things didn’t go as you planned. Jimin, pulled by an unspeakable force, ventures out into the blizzard to find a body face-first on the ground. Your love and connection is forbidden - looked down upon. But the both of you are willing to try. However, where there are dreams there are prices to pay. How will the both of you push through? Can the both of you do it?

Genre: Strangers to lovers, fantasy au, Jimin is the CROWN PRINCE (I mean-), angst, kidnapping, smut

TWC: 10307

Teaser

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

👑

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daechwitatamic · 5 months

Text

Of Ruin: Chapter 1 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: vampire hunting and killing, blood and gore in vampire attacks, language

WC: 5.7k

Maggie’s mother always told her nothing good happens after midnight. Maggie disagreed. Lots of good things happened after midnight. Usually in bars with loud music, her friends’ laughter ringing in her ears and a little too much alcohol singing in her bloodstream.

That was the case tonight - and the night had been wonderful. She and Farrah had still been going strong at midnight, throwing back shots in tandem. The DJ had been stellar and they’d danced until their feet hurt. And, the piece de resistance, they’d run into that guy from their Econ class - the one with the dark eyes and killer smile. He’d stayed with them the whole tail end of the night - even offered to walk them home, back to their apartment building.

He’d stayed with them, but his eyes had been on Maggie. And when, on the walk home, Farrah skipped ahead of them, buzzed and happy, he’d tugged on her hand and kissed her sweetly, right there on the sidewalk.

Nothing good happens after midnight, who?

And then, something weird happened. The stretch of sidewalk seemed suddenly darker, as if there was something between them and the flickering streetlight - like netting, or mist. It seemed, suddenly, that the lack of light was an entity - alive, all around them, shifting and changing and wanting.

“Farrah,” Maggie called, the hairs on her arms starting to stand. She’d only been a bit ahead of them, but somehow Maggie was having a hard time seeing her friend. Econ Guy put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders protectively, glancing around them.

But there was nothing to see except darkness that felt darker.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, and then two things happened so quickly that to Maggie’s human eyes, it seemed to be at once: a bit of darkness moved much too fast just in front of her, and Farrah’s body slumped to the ground.

“Farrah!” Maggie screamed, her breath caught in her throat. She started towards her friend’s motionless body, but she was tugged back. Econ Guy was pointing at Farrah’s body, his mouth moving like he was trying to make a word, but couldn’t. Maggie looked again, closer.

The darkness that had moved was bent over Farrah’s body, obscuring their view of her shoulder and face. Maggie’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and a tingling she associated with panic started in her fingertips as her body pleaded with her to run.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered in horror. Beside her, Econ Guy made a choked sound and took a step backwards, his arm falling away from her, all pretenses of toughness vanishing.

At the sound of her hushed question, it looked at them, head snapping up, the motion sharp and jerky. Then, it clambered to its feet, stepping over Farrah’s body and staggering towards them. As it approached, Maggie could see it - him - for the first time.

He was undeniably beautiful - or would have been, if it weren’t for the blood, black like ink in this light, running in rivulets from his mouth down to his chin. Could have been, if not for the inhuman growls and snarls that rippled from his chest like the start of an antique lawn mower, if not for the way his eyes were glossy black, no pupils or irises visible at all. Could have been, if not for the inhumanly long incisors ending below his curled upper lip.

“Infracti,” Maggie said hollowly.

Beside her, Econ Guy found his voice again. “Hey,” he said sternly. “You can’t hunt here. It’s against the law.”

The Infracti stalked closer, unblinking, then stopped a few feet before them. Its upper lip was curled in what looked like disgust, displaying its most fearsome weapons clearly. Maggie’s entire body shook and she dropped to the ground, her legs refusing to hold her up - let alone to run.

Not that she could outrun an Infracti.

The beast looked at them evenly, then stuck out its tongue and languidly - as if putting on a show - licked its lips, sucking a few more drops of Farrah’s blood into its mouth. Maggie didn’t see the monster move, but suddenly Econ Guy was screaming, arms flailing as he tried and failed to shove the Infracti away from his body. The Infracti’s long fingers gripped his upper arms tightly, holding Econ Guy in place, its frightening face buried in the crook of his neck.

The scream fizzled to a sob. The Infracti opened its hands - fingers splayed purposefully as it emptied them - and its victim’s body hit the pavement. The sound - a round, weighty thud - echoed through Maggie’s head as the Infracti turned to face her. Its all-black eyes seemed calculating, in their own way. Still on the ground, Maggie was almost face to face with Econ Guy’s corpse. His eyes were still wide and frightened, though unseeing.

The Infracti stepped closer to her, gently, carefully, and then it crouched down, swirling black eyes meeting hers. The growls subsided, and Maggie thought wildly that it looked almost thoughtful. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore as much as vibrating. Her breaths were so shallow they barely counted, and the night swam around her.

When Maggie was seven, her grandmother was mugged while they were walking together. In the moment, her grandmother had tossed her purse into the street, and grabbed Maggie’s hand to run when the thief lunged for the bag. When Maggie asked about it later, in that way that kids do, her grandmother had explained to her, “He wasn’t interested in you or me. He was interested in my money. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone.”

Now, eye to eye with a beast straight out of her nightmares, Maggie saw her grandmother’s face, heard her sweet voice. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone. Tentatively, she held out her wrist, veins up. The beast moved like liquid again, a shifting of darkness, until he was closer to her, her wrist clutched tight in his cool grasp. Then, gently, as if he were a gentleman kissing the back of her hand in greeting, he brought her wrist to his lips and let his fangs pierce the flesh.

Taehyung wakes to a shout; he becomes aware of the pain before anything else. His head throbs, his throat feels like there’s glass in it, his shoulders and back ache like he’s carried marble slabs all night.

It’s a uniquely human curse to question, and Taehyung isn’t human, but he immediately tries to figure out why he hurts from head to toe. Especially since he hasn’t hurt in several centuries.

He shoots a quick glance around to see what he can figure out without moving. Right away it’s clear that he is not in bed. He is on the floor, the stone cool beneath his palms. A servant is crouched near him, repeating his name but smart enough not to touch him.

He can tell, as his blurry vision clears bit by bit, that he’s definitely in the palace proper, though not in a wing he frequents. The floor beneath him is just stone - no marble, no thick carpeting - which indicates he’s not in a living-quarters wing. The walls, however, hang with vibrant tapestries and oil portraits, gilded sconces lighting the way every few feet. Most definitely still the palace.

“Why am I here?” he manages to croak.

The servant turns over his shoulder and shouts to someone, “Alert the King!”

This is the first moment that Taehyung feels alarm atop the pain. He struggles to sit up, takes stock of his surroundings. The same servant still hovers near, face pinched with something akin to fear.

How did I end up on the floor?

Not only that - he isn’t even entirely sure where in the sprawling palace he is.

When he hears approaching footsteps and recognizes the sharp, staccato clicks and clacks, he almost sags back to the floor in relief. Instead, he pushes himself to standing, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him and then ebbing just in time for him to incline his head and intone, “Mother.”

Despite the centuries that have passed since Taehyung was small, something affectionate and maternal remains in the Queen. She presses cool palms to Taehyung’s cheeks and looks him up and down. She winces at something she sees. “Darling,” she says, the word lilting in the strange accent she has, one that belongs to a language long-dead. “What were you thinking?”

It takes Taehyung a moment to articulate a response. He’s frightened - something quite new to him - and he isn’t sure the correct move to make in this situation. The fear toys with logic, makes the answer slippery, hard to grasp.

He settles on the truth. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I mean - I can’t remember. I don’t know how I got here.”

He doesn’t ask, did something happen. It’s obvious that something did.

He hears his father, Sunjae of Rune, King of Infracticus, long before he enters the room, his authoritative voice barking questions and orders.

“How far has word spread?”

“There was only one witness. She’s in custody.”

“Handle her and send her back,” the King snaps. “As quickly as possible. Where is my son?”

This last question is roared as he finally enters the high-ceilinged corridor where his wife and son stand.

“I’m here,” Taehyung says, needlessly.

The King sizes him up, eyes narrowed, chest puffed. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he spits finally.

Taehyung clears his throat and then ventures, “For starters… I’d really like to know what happened.”

The King’s face slides from fury to something befuddled, his hands sinking to his sides like sails in the absence of wind.

–

Taehyung’s father leads them back to their private wing and closes them into a dimly lit room that houses floor to ceiling bookshelves full of tomes so old they’d crumble to dust if you dared to touch them. A fire roars in the hearth for aesthetics only - Taehyung’s kind can’t feel cold.

He locks the door and turns to face them. Taehyung’s mother has sunk delicately onto a fainting couch, and she watches her son sharply.

Taehyung feels itchy under her gaze. She’s the smartest of the three of them, and Taehyung knows it even if his father doesn’t.

“You’re telling me,” the King growls, low, “that you don’t remember any of it?”

“I was in my wing,” Taehyung promises. “Sometime near midnight. That’s the last thing I remember, until I woke up on the floor in a random hallway -”

The King and Queen exchange a look, an entire conversation in just a glance. Then, the King heaves a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Then, the Queen ventures, “The Elders should see him.”

The King grumbles something under his breath.

She tries again. “He could be ill. He could be going mad. We need to know!”

“Will someone please tell me what’s happened?” Taehyung bursts out, finally unable to take it - the anxiety, the questions, the conversation about him but not involving him, all of it.

“You went rogue,” the King says dryly, his eyes on the dancing fire instead of his son.

Taehyung feels his stomach drop. “Meaning?”

“Exactly what he said,” the Queen says, something steely in her tone. “You went above, alone, and… hunted.”

Taehyung feels his legs turn to stone. His stomach twists and a wave of nausea rocks him. “I what?” he asks, but it comes out like a gasp. The sides of the room are starting to go black and he breathes slowly, one hand gripping the back of the couch.

Silence expands, filling the room. Taehyung’s stomach lurches, and he closes his eyes.

“Did… did I -?”

“You took two humans and left a third alive. We have teams cleaning up, up there, and we’ve got the spare here -”

Took two humans.

The spare.

Taehyung’s stomach twists again. The black creeping at the edge of his vision draws closer to the center. Taehyung loses sight of his father’s face in the encroaching darkness.

“Darling, we’ve covered up incidents like this countless times. No one will know. We’ll make sure.” The Queen’s voice is soothing, bringing to Taehyung’s mind all the times when he was a child when she would hurry to calm him.

Taehyung shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

“You didn’t know you were doing it,” the King muses - his next problem to solve, not a placation to reassure his guilt-stricken son. “We must uncover the cause.”

“The Elders,” the Queen says again, insistently. “At least let them give him a medical once-over.”

The King sighs in defeat. “I suppose we have no choice. Wait in your rooms, Taehyung. I’ll summon the Elders at once. The sooner we find out what came over you, the better.”

—

Taehyung is in his wing when Jimin comes – uncalled, unbidden, simply as if he sensed his best friend’s distress. And perhaps he had – the Infracti have shown stranger powers before.

“I heard you had a bit of an adventure,” he says carelessly, flopping sideways along Taehyung’s favorite leather couch, feet propped on the armrest, as he has millions of times over hundreds of years.

“News travels fast,” Taehyung says bitterly.

Jimin smiles indulgently, used to his moody friend. “Not so. But they called on Seokjin to help wipe the memory of the girl who survived before they sent her back.”

Taehyung blanches. “That’s illegal.”

Jimin gives him a dirty look and a scoff to accompany it. “Please,” he says dismissively. “You can’t be that naïve, not in your position.”

The Queen’s words run back through Taehyung’s mind. We’ve covered up incidents like this countless times.

He sulks. “They shouldn’t be breaking treaty laws over me,” he grumbles.

Jimin lets out a sigh. “If rules can be bent for anyone, shouldn’t they be for you? Besides…” He sits up, looks at Taehyung more seriously. “It’s not like one of us went up there willingly, like… on purpose. If someone decided to just fuck the protection laws and go hunting, I’d obviously object to a cover-up. But that isn’t the case here. Something happened to you. They’re not covering up a crime, they’re recovering from an accident.”

An accident. He’d killed two innocent people. Nearly killed a third.

Taehyung drops onto a chair near Jimin’s feet, covering his face with his hands. “Truly,” he says hollowly, the words muffled by his palms, “I have never in over six hundred years felt this deeply guilty about something. Jimin, I killed people. Me. I did that.”

It’s an understatement. There aren’t words – not in any language, dead or alive – to describe the deep, crawling self-hatred Taehyung feels. There’s no phrase for the twist and ache in his stomach when he pictures the scene above-ground – bodies limp on the ground, the echo of screams from the survivor floating away into the uncaring night, blood thick and metallic on his tongue, a wild flash in his eyes.

Jimin shakes his head, lips protruding in a pronounced pout. “It wasn’t you. We all know that.”

“Those people are dead and the fault is only my own,” Taehyung says firmly.

“You weren’t yourself,” Jimin insists. “What did the Elders say?”

The Elders are terrifying, is Taehyung’s take-away. His own father is thousands of years old, and looks like a child in comparison. Infracti are not immortal; rather, under the right circumstances - and often with the help of the magic they can control - they can live for tens of thousands of years. The oldest Infracti that Taehyung knows - not counting the Elders, as he doesn’t know them - is around thirty thousand years old, and weaker every day. The Elders, whose ages Taehyung doesn’t actually know, seem so fragile they might be made of dust, particles held together by magic and force of will. He’d showered three times after leaving them just to get the icky shudders to stop.

“That I’m not ill and I’m not mad,” Taehyung recites dryly, finally removing his hands from his face.

“Which leaves what possibilities?” Jimin asks with a frown.

Taehyung shrugs. “They’re meeting about it right now. I’ve been told to stay in my own wing.”

Jimin squawks. “For how long?”

“Until they’re sure it won’t happen again, I suppose,” Taehyung guesses with a small shrug. “Or until they’ve come up with an answer.”

“Lovely,” Jimin quips sarcastically, and moves to rise. “Well, I’ll check in on you later this evening. I’m sure you’ll be bored, cooped up in here.”

“I’d rather be bored than -”

“I know.” Something new creeps into Jimin’s voice – some kindness, some understanding. “It wasn’t your fault, Taehyung. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Taehyung gives him a nod and sees him out, his stomach twisting and roiling. Only one of those things, he knows, is true.

Sunlight and fresh air assault you as you make your way slowly down the city block, the messenger bag around your body laden with thick books and hastily scribbled notes. The ache in your shoulder from carrying it has been part of your existence for so long that you barely notice it anymore.

You pass a bank and glance at the screen displaying today’s date and temperature, followed by the time. It indicates that you’ve somehow ended up here between buses. You’ll have to wait a bit for the next one.

At least it’s nice out, you think, and settle onto a bench just across from your bus stop. It backs up to a park, and you watch as people bustle by, most of them glued to their phone screens or carrying on conversations into their earpods. In the park, a group of kids is playing loudly, shouts and shrieks rising towards the cloudless blue sky.

“Songie’s team, you’re the Runes!” someone shouts, and it grabs your attention. You smile, watching them gather and form groups.

“It’s not Runes,” someone corrects snottily. “It’s Ruins.”

Actually, you think, hiding a little smile, the proper pronunciation of the powerful Infraci family falls somewhere between the two words.

The ancient language of Infracticus has phonics that most modern people struggle with. As a result, there tends to be two schools of thought regarding pronunciation. Commonly, the families are called the Runes, the Cleaves, and the Scores. At the university that you’d attended, at which you now work, they’d taught you Ruins, Leaves, and Scorns.

But it’s all the same, really.

You watch the game for some time. It’s a lot like freeze tag, and you remember playing it in the schoolyard as a kid. Teams – one Runes and one Scores – try to cross a field past each other without getting tagged and frozen. Teams had elected members called Cleaves, who were the only players who could unfreeze another.

It’s funny, you’ve always thought, how the actual history of the three Infracti families translated into the rules of the children’s game. To be historically accurate, it should have been three teams – Cleaves wouldn’t be members of Runes or Scores but their own faction altogether.

However, you do wonder if their ability to unfreeze players is derived from the Cleaves’ ability to heal, something the other two bloodlines have never possessed.

And is it coincidence that the game became the Runes versus the Scores, when those two families had a particularly ugly blood feud, millennia ago?

All three families have vied for power at one point or another – most known history of the Infacti includes this never-ending power struggle. But the Runes have managed to hold court since the time the protection laws were passed, the ones that both protect humans from being hunted and bans those same humans from doing the hunting. The ones that decree quarterly blood donations from every adult human to ensure there’s never a shortage that could lead to hunting. The ones that declare the monarchy follows only the Runes’ royal bloodline.

Hunting - both of and by Infracti - still happens, of course. There’s no such thing as utopia. But at least now there are consequences when an Infracti attacks a human, and consequences when humans turn to violence to drive Infracti out of their communities.

Questions like this, constant curiosity about the Infracti culture and history, had carried you through dual degrees studying the history and sociology of the Infracti. Now, after nearly a decade of your adult years spent in academics, you tote multiple degrees, including extensive experience with both curses and counter-curses.

Your family hates it - never understood it. Your mother has called it an obsession time and time again. But neither she nor your father can argue with the career opportunities in academia that you’ve been afforded, now that you’re full-time staff at the university.

And they don’t even know about the other opportunities that keep falling at your feet: more and more curse-breaking cases as the years pass. The more your reputation and success rate grow, the more your name seems to be passed around. You think your mother would faint on the spot if she knew that only two months ago your team had flown into deep Brazilian jungle and helped them to cast the counter-curse that freed an entire village from unending rain.

When the bus finally pulls in, bringing with it a warm breeze and the smell of gasoline, you rise, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder and searching for a seat. It’s about twenty minutes to campus unless you catch an Express – and you have no such luck today.

Your phone rings in your pocket as you sit, and you shift in your seat until you can slide it free. Your boss’s name floats across the top of the screen and you answer it quickly.

“Are you on campus yet?” he asks in lieu of hello. Dr. Kim - the department head at the university where you teach - is nearing seventy, but he’s the leading curse-breaker on the eastern coast and you find it unlikely that he’ll slow down anytime soon. He was one of your first professors when you showed up here as a bright-eyed undergrad, years ago.

“Twenty minutes out,” you report. “I’m on the bus.”

“Come directly to my office,” he requests, but you can hear the urgency dancing in his tone. You know what this means: he’s been contacted about a curse.

“I have a class at ten thirty,” you warn him. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It won’t take long,” he promises, and you agree to stop by before ending the call and turning your attention back to the bus window.

It’s somehow chillier when the bus drops you on campus, cloud cover removing the warmth of the sun as you hustle down one of the paved walkways towards the academic buildings, dodging students standing in groups talking, others riding bicycles and the rare electric scooter.

You hurry into the building that houses most of the staff offices, bypassing the corridors the students frequent and taking the narrow back staircase that leads to Dr. Kim’s office.

He’s waiting for you, door open, a spread of papers on his desk.

You greet him with a smile, dropping your heavy bag by his door as you have hundreds of times in your professional history. Dr. Kim was one of your first undergrad professors, years ago, and you’ve worked closely with him in all the years since: first, as a TA for his tougher classes, then co-teaching when the university took you on, and finally joining his team of curse-breakers, rapidly bypassing several team members who had more seniority but less knack.

“We got a call?” you guess, drawing closer to the papers and peering at them for clues. That’s when you notice the young man already seated in one of the two chairs across from Dr. Kim’s desk. Embarrassed, you hurry to nod hello to him, murmuring an apology. He has dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, razor-sharp eyes, and - you notice when he smiles in greeting - a deep dimple on each side.

The expression on Dr. Kim’s face is a little strange - almost like he’s nervous to give you the news. You can’t imagine what might be giving him pause, considering your last meeting like this had landed you both in a literal rainforest. Could he have gotten a request for the team to go somewhere even more remote than that?

“We did,” he allows with a tight little nod. “It’s… a bit unorthodox, though. I’d like you to consider the situation carefully.”

You feel yourself frown. “What is it?”

He sighs, then nods towards his door. “Will you close that, please?”

You reach behind you and gently press the wooden door shut, feeling flutters of uncertainty for the first time in your career. The stranger shifts in his chair uneasily.

“Perhaps you should sit,” Dr. Kim suggests, holding a hand towards the empty chair opposite his desk.

This isn’t how these meetings go. You’ve done this a dozen times or more - usually as soon as Dr. Kim can see your face he starts chattering excitedly about the details: who’s been cursed, what the effects are, the specifics of the location, the bits of travel itinerary he’s already worked out.

You sit hesitantly, hands gripping the arms of the chair nervously. You try hard not to glance sideways at the man you don’t know.

“Well?” you prompt, when Dr. Kim still doesn’t speak.

“This is Namjoon,” Dr. Kim says, belatedly realizing he hasn’t introduced you. “His degrees all focus on curses. A comparable background to yours, academically.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t study Infracticus. My magical knowledge is focused solely on curses and curse-breaking.”

Dr. Kim makes a noise like he doesn’t quite agree with this. “Anyway,” he says to you, “I personally asked Namjoon to make the trip and hear the request. I think he’ll be invaluable in picking this one apart.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. You trust Dr. Kim with your life - literally - and if he thinks someone will be an asset to the team, you’d never argue with that. You turn sideways just a bit and murmur an it’s nice to meet you before turning your attention back to your (normally) fearless leader. “So what are we in for?”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost as if he’s unsure if he should tell you or not. “You need to know right from the start how very dangerous this could be,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of you, his voice more grave than you’ve ever heard it.

“Because of the magic involved?” you ask. Curse-breaking is always dangerous, that’s the very nature of it. You always run the risk of making a fatal mistake; you could turn the curse back on yourself, or strengthen it, or simply end up creating side-effects you hadn’t intended. He’s never given you this warning before.

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Not more so than any other. It’s… well, my dear, it will involve a stay in Infracticus.”

You’re shocked into silence. You can’t help but meet Namjoon’s eyes, sideways, and find him looking just as surprised as you. You utter, quietly, “What?” even though you heard and understood him perfectly well. It’s more than you need help processing, facing the reality of the words. “An Infracti has been cursed?”

He shakes his head, though the answer isn’t no. “Not just any Infracti,” he corrects. “The Prince of Ruin.”

Your jaw literally drops. “Someone cursed the crown prince?” you gasp in disbelief. “Who would dare?”

“The Scorns, I imagine,” Namjoon murmurs, almost to himself.

Dr. Kim gives you two a wan smile. “Luckily, we aren’t tasked with solving that. Just finding and casting the counter-curse.”

You sit back in your chair in a daze, blinking slowly, cogs in your mind whirring fast. “Okay,” you say finally. “We’d be protected, though, right? They’re inviting the team, so they’d make sure we were safe?”

Dr. Kim seems to look far-away for a moment, contemplating his answer. You shift nervously, glancing sideways at Namjoon. You would have been reassured by a quick answer - the fact that he needs to formulate a response does nothing to quell your unease.

“I trust we are being invited there for the reasons they say,” he allows. “And so, I do believe the royal family will want us to be safe, yes. But the fact still remains that we will be humans walking around Infracticus. I’m sure we will be given guards - the question becomes, can we trust those guards completely? I fear I cannot say for sure.”

“It’s like walking into the lions’ den,” Namjoon murmurs beside you.

“Quite,” Dr. Kim agrees, nodding.

“Except there’s an injured lion and only we can fix it,” you point out.

“We can’t rely on that to ensure our safety,” Dr. Kim says, frowning more deeply. “It’s a delicate situation. The royal family cannot let it get out that the prince’s well-being has been… compromised.”

Namjoon frowns in confusion. “Why not?”

You think you understand. You venture, “To admit weakness, to admit to having been successfully attacked, to admit that the crown prince is cursed - it would be an open invitation for rebellion.”

“Yes,” Dr. Kim confirms, inclining his head, his white tufts of hair moving breezily. “The Infracti respect the laws that are currently in place, but the crown prince is the last member of the Ruin bloodline. If he were to die, or to be unfit to lead…”

“There’s nothing in the laws about who would rule next,” you finish for him, eyes wide. “It would be…”

“A war for the throne, I imagine.”

You sit in silence for a moment under the weight of this. Then, Namjoon says carefully, “I’m sorry, but can we circle back? The prince’s curse has to be secret, I got that - but how does that affect the safety of our team?”

“We’ll be hosted in the palace as honored guests,” Dr. Kim tells you both. “But no one beyond the royal family will know why. They don’t know that if they slipped up and harmed us, it would harm the prince, too. We can’t assume our purpose will serve as protection. Any Infracti beyond the royal family should be considered a threat.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, turning to face Namjoon. He looks just as bamboozled as you feel, validating your reaction.

“This is wild,” you utter, mostly to yourself. “This is absolutely bonkers.”

“This is why I said you need to consider carefully,” Dr. Kim insists. “There is much at stake. You’re in danger every moment you’re down there, even with the promised protection. The curse itself must be complicated, or they’d have solved it themselves. If your reason for being there is uncovered due to a fault of our own, we’ll be facing the wrath of the royal family. And I… I’m afraid I won't be able to join you.”

“What? No - you have to,” you blurt, panicked. “I can’t do it without you - you’ve decades of experience over me - I’ve never led a case before!”

“They don’t want me,” he tries to explain. “They don’t want any possibility that someone will figure out who I am and put the pieces together. A simple inquiry of my name blows the whole thing - the first thing they’d find is curse-breaker. As I said - the secrecy of the prince’s condition is vital.”

You scoff. “So they want me because I’m nobody.”

He looks at you kindly, used to your moods. “They want you because you have a high success rate. Your ability to stay… lowkey, as the kids say -”

Namjoon makes a choked sound like he’s fighting a laugh.

“- you should see it as an asset.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” you say, because it’s true. Because it feels safer to have someone older, wiser, with more experience. Because it feels like less responsibility to not be the person in charge. Because it’s what you’re used to, and you cling to the familiar.

He shakes his head sadly. “The royal family will not allow it. I’m sorry.”

You lapse into silence again.

Namjoon speaks slowly, as if a new thought is dawning on him, and he doesn’t like it. “If they suspect the Scorns…”

Your stomach sinks.

Dr. Kim nods. “I imagine you may see the beginnings of some political unrest if an accusation is made.”

“Forget the accusation,” Namjoon says hollowly. “If we uncover that it was a Scorn attack… we’ll be walking into Infracti civil war.”

“Will it be that bad?” you ask, frowning, pulse quickening.

Namjoon shrugs. “The Ruins and the Scorns would each love a reason to point the finger at the other. If we do happen across the cause of the curse as we try to break it… it’s likely there will be political ramifications.”

“God,” you mutter.

“As I said,” Dr. Kim repeats. “I won’t accept an answer today. I want you both to sleep on it. Discuss with your families.” (You snort at this. As if you ever would.) “Talk to me tomorrow about how you’re feeling.”

He dismisses you then, shepherding you both towards his door, leaving it open now that you’re done discussing the equivalent of vampire state secrets.

Halfway down the stairs, Namjoon calls your name. Ahead of him, you pause, turn, and let him catch up to you.

“Can we exchange information?” he asks, digging in his wallet. He finally hands you a business card, and you do the same, hoping you have one tucked behind a credit card or something.

“I’d like to talk to you about this, later, if you have time,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I’m… not feeling very sure about it.”

“Okay,” you say easily, glancing at the time - you’ve got seven minutes to get across campus to teach your first class. “Do you want to grab a bite later? Your number’s on here?” You wiggle the business card, and he nods. “I’ll text you,” you promise, and start down the steps again, mind racing.

Next ->

thank you for reading! i hope you liked this first installment! chapter 2 will go up next friday!!! <3

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taesomekookie · 2 years

Text

Americano tastes like poison

->pairing:: barista jungkook x student reader

->summary:: jungkook is a barista who is head over heels for a customer but us too shy to confess so the she takes it in on her own hands to chase him down

->theme:: s2l , strangers to lovers, rude reader, soft dom jungkook

->warnings:: descriptive sex, masturbation, occasional cursing, eating out, reader is rude

->words::3.5 k

->author's note:: written in jungkook's pov

__________________________________________

8:15 pm and she would be bursting through the doors any moment, any usual day it takes her no later than 8:00 pm to stop at the coffee shop and get her warm milk but today is an exception, today the tidiest girl is ... late.

I can still recall the day I spilled coffee on her tote bag, she had tears dwelling in her eyes and steam fuming from her ears, one thing I've learned in a long time is that she hates mess. She is what you call a typical Taurus, extremely grounded in their beliefs. They will do anything but break the laws they create for themselves.l barely know anything about her except for the three things she hates…. chaos, coffee, and me.

It's ironic to my situation because I am deeply infatuated with her, she is just simply attractive, to call her just pretty would be an understatement of the century, she is a goddess who is effortlessly beautiful, a goddess who never looks up from her phone, never utters a sound, never tries to be curious, and shows up every night at the café at sharp 8 pm, always present with her sketchbooks, a single jet black pen, with her half ponytail, sits at the corner seat near the window with her head silently bopping to the secret tunes playing in her earphones. It is strange how my goddess still uses earphones in a world where Bluetooth headphones are a trend, this just adds to the mystery of her being a real incarnation of a princess, preferring old-school items over the new materialistic ones.

"Jungkook! Stop daydreaming and focus on brewing the coffee!"

shit- almost lost this batch...

grinding beans, this is stupid, I mean I get that we have to be so-called original baristas who do all that over-commercialized thing of making a cup of coffee from scratch but do we have to really do this? isn't it like a waste of time, money, and resources where we can easily use the powder already ground, fermented, and boiled

a hand on my shoulder brings me back to the present world "hey, kook I will be heading home now, thanks for handling the café on your own, owe you one" Yoongi finally goes out of the door leaving me in the complete vicinity of my thoughts.

the ding of the doorbell catches my attention, that very distinct click-clack of boots coming closer to the station, and the mesmerizing lavender perfume mixing with the addicting smell of coffee announces to the room that she is here...

"hurry up jeon I don't have time" of course you don't, you're 31 minutes late now something big must have happened to break a ritual like this

"yeah, sure... so, uhm Hi! how would you like your drinks today? the usual- warm milk?"

did I do something wrong? do I smell wrong? did I not speak coherent words or was it all just in my head and I blabbered random sounds? the smirk settling on her face is edging me towards a heart attack, I can never read her face this girl is a devil...

"you know what jeon? get me an iced americano"

"but- don't you like... hate coffee?"

taking a pause she sighs "why are you testing my patience jeon?" she rolls the sleeves of her white satin shirt "now, hurry and get me that americano fast"

"I will" confirming the order again I ask "Are you sure you want americano... I mean it's a pretty strong drink for a beginner.."

oh I do not like the smirk settling on her face, I do not like the way she is leaning down on the counter table and showing me that unavoidable view of her cleavage "beginner?" the drop in the decibels of her voice is making me feral "jeon jungkook... you think I'm joking right now?"

the hues of brown in her doe eyes, the way her soft hair turns in perfect waves, the mellow honey-blessed skin, and the way I can feel my heart thumping in my chest, am I the only one feeling this gold rush, or is she feeling it too..? this is not good, I should focus on making that godforsaken coffee now I'm pretty sure my cheeks are blooming red

grind the beans, yes grinding the beans

I open the lid of the machine and pour a fresh batch of coffee beans, okay let's focus on beans, coffee comes from a fruit, I bet she tastes like a fruit, probably like a watermelon hard from the outside soft and juicy from the inside, those pretty rose-tinted lips they will look so good on my cock, they would paint it red, her legs peaking from her skirt look so pretty, how i wish she grinds that tight booty on-

"Want me to grind that for you?"

WHAT.

WHAT- Wait i-

I think I snapped my neck a lil here, too stunned to speak "WHAT? what did you say?" I practically scream (and lowkey burst) at this proposal

"calm down... I just asked if you want me to grind those beans for you, you have been rotating an empty cup for 2 mins"

"What did you hear?"

"yeah that only... just food safety you know, customers aren't allowed behind the table"

amazing jungkook! excellent excuse, she will buy it. I internally facepalm myself "why don't you sit at the table, I will be right back"

"Sure"

I am going to solely focus on the coffee now, mentally restricting any thoughts of her.

I can feel eyes piercing my back, and I swear to god if she doesn't stop right now I will ask her out. My curiosity brings me to look up at her only to find her staring right back at me while biting her bottom lip

dear god-

I can't take this anymore, she is not herself, she definitely has a concussion on her head

"is the coffee walking on its own to me? "

I hate her smug self, she knows the effect she has on me, I hate this so much

grabbing the tumbler I fill it with ice and pour the drink. Giving it a light shake I take it to her table.

placing the drink on the table I stand by her side anticipating her reaction "okay let's see what barista jungkook has made" she says while clapping her hands "presentation... 10 points, now let's taste the drink ehe" her giggles...if this is not heaven then what is. She finally grabs the straw and sucks a good amount in one gulp, her face immediately contorts in a frown, arching her eyebrows she looks at me with disgust flowing from her eyes "what the fuck is this? are you trying to poison mw for acting like a bitch to you?"

did she just accept that she acts rudely to me? wow so she knew what she was doing all this time

"Is this americano?"

"Yeah"

"well then americano tastes like poison"

"I told you its too strong for a beginner"

"stop with that word already, I don't like it coming from your pretty face"

so I am a pretty face.... noted to make fake scenarios while in bed

"jungkook... are you sure this is it? I am sorry for behaving rudely all this time, I just-... I know you don't deserve to be treated like this nobody does it's just that.. why are you standing come here, sit here" she motions to an empty chair next to her "it is just that I get so tired of working 2 shifts back to back that I just wish to have a cup of warm milk and sleep..most of my youth has been spent while working part times with college, struggling with academic validation and then the pressure of finding a good job in this crippling economy, having a druggie mother and the insane responsibilities of debt and my brother my father has left me for it makes me feel insane.."

this is the most calm I have ever seen her, I can finally make out two and two's, her features look very soft and serene. I want to protect her from everything, she is the sweetest angel who has to work hard for her family. She needs rest, she needs happiness and I will give my everything to her if she asks me once...

"I am probably oversharing but today was my breaking point, I wanted to run away, do things I have never done before" I see a fire igniting in her eyes as if she already knows what she wants as if she is done with every shit that has happened to her and is going to fight every fear. She suddenly grabs my collar bringing me down to my knees right in front of her face " Today I want to do things I have always wanted to do"

"and what have you always wanted to do?" i ask curiously

"you."

I suddenly feel a pair of lips catching my own, My hands in a frenzy find her nape and deepen the kiss, she is way too perfect for me, her lips mold perfectly around mine. I feel dizzy, I am convinced she is a goddess because she makes me want to both live and die in this moment so that I remember this moment for eternity, The sudden rush downwards only proves my observations I feel her hands searching for my shoulders I can feel her leaning on me, she slowly pushes me down on the floor straddling my legs I can feel her sitting right above my crotch

"aww I guess this friend of yours needs a little brewing too"

she slowly moves her hips literally grinding on me, "fuck.. you have no idea how badly I have wished for this" incoherent curses escape her mouth

I want her glued to me, I want to feel her body entirely on me, under me, next to me, over me

I need her so bad

"I want you so bad jungkook"

she speaks words from my mind if this isn't the woman meant for me I don't know who is...

"baby let me make you feel good, you go through so much all alone, let me give you a good time"

I slowly turn her around and hold her in my arms, I want to make her feel amazing tonight, I want to show her that she is loved and that she can still live her life without compromising her happiness

I lie her down on our couch and dim the lights to maintain privacy

she looks mesmerizing under the little moonlight falling on her face, her arms longing for my touch and her lips begging for my taste

she sits down and gets me out of my clothes, only leaving me in my underwear, I can see her staring hungrily at my muscles, I am so glad that I work out because the way her eyes are darkening is all worth the pain.

unable to control myself anymore I open her shirt buttons, freeing her from the shirt I look down at her, despite having this strong exterior she is a writhing shy mess under my gaze

her lace bra hiding her treasures from my eyes I lean down to kiss her neck, she tastes so sweet and warm just like cookies freshly baked out of the oven, I can hear soft moans escaping her pretty lips and soft hands roaming on my bare back

"j-jungkook... please don't tease me"

my baby, my beloved darling I will grant all of your wishes, you are too hard to resist

I free her breasts from the lace and lean forward to capture one of them in my mouth, she shivers under my touch and grabs my hair to push me forward, not getting enough of her I fondle with the second one I can feel her looking at me in pure shock, her eyes are not peeling from my head bopping up and down on her tenderness, it is as if I will disappear if she looks away I swear I can spend days playing with her nonstop

the ache increasing in my underwear is reminding me of how badly I am down for her, I need to date her.

I take her out of her jeans and she instantly wraps her legs around my torso

"eager for me baby?"

"so much.... please do it already"

I know exactly what she wants but it will be shameful to lose this opportunity " what do you want me to do?"

"I want your mouth jungkook, and I want your cock, I want it deep inside me so that you can see its outline over my abdomen, fuck me so hard that i have to limp to work tomorrow, mark my body so everybody knows who i belong to"

fuck.....

shit.

I was not expecting such a descriptive request, it is not just her voice but the way she chooses her words so carefully and speaks while lacing them with a little rust makes her sound fatally hot

"I am going to fulfill all of your wishes, my pretty angel"

I caress her right cheek

I slowly reach for her wet pussy, she looks so appetizing, the way it glistens... heavenly... I kiss her bud and slowly suckle on her, sending vibrations through her body and ultimately intensifying the pleasure.

Eloping at the tasty wetness I feel her hands grabbing my hair and pushing me towards her entrance

She is bringing heaven to my mouth

I take my fingers to her pretty lips and start scissoring her inside, making her whimper in pleasure.. the cute whimpers and moans that she is letting out while my tongue kitten licks her bud and my fingers fuck her inside is of the best voices I have heard in my life I can soon feel her reaching her climax, her walls, they are clenching my fingers so hard

"I am gu-gonna cum"

"cum for me baby, paint my tongue with your color baby"

I replace my fingers with my tongue and my fingers rapidly move on her clit, her legs are shaking, her hands are desperate and her lips are mouthing unholy words

I catch her gushing all over my tongue "fu-ck jungkook, i-"

I would cum right here if she doesn't stop moaning my name like that, it is insane how crazy she makes me. I fell for her the first moment I laid my eyes on her, I unconsciously waited for her every day, her quirky remarks, her daggering gaze, I craved for her, those minimal conversations were so much to me, and right now, seeing her melting in my arms, I just know that I will never be able to forget her. She is a drug that I'm addicted to doing now, she is my holy grail

Her juices were making a spot on the couch and that's how much she was wet for me and the thought of it was making me feel insane

"Jungkook please fill me up..."

"I need you Jungkook "

"Just a sec baby, cannot waste the juice on the couch " I lean down to suckle at the material, what does she even eat.. it is so sweet. I look up at her and she is burning red, a pretty little angel moaning my name, she is so cuteeeeee

Separating myself from my cotton candy I ask her

"You want my cock to fill you up?"

She is frantically nodding at me

So without wasting another second I immediately turn her around so that now she's on her fours, her face naturally bends, and finds shelter on the couch

My hair is now a mess falling over my eyes as I give my cock a few pumps, it's embarrassing how I'm already leaking, I look at her only to find her with a smug on her face, yeah she should know what she does to me. Aligning next to her drenching hole I push inside her and hear a loud yelp from her mouth

"Jungkook, fuck no amount of prep would have had me ready for your dick"

damn, well that is super flattering, I love me a girl who knows how to speak while in bed

"Move daddy, I can take it"

daddy...this new nickname is edging me already, looking at her all spread out on her fours, this feels like a dream come true, we haven't done anything freaky but this is the best sex I have ever had.

"Do you like how I am stretching you up?" i see her nodding, ehe

increasing the frequency of my thrusts I feel her clenching around, her boobs bouncing as I grab her bottoms, moving out till the end only to slam right back in

"Fuck you feel so fucking good"

"So tight"

I have to chase her now, I am hers now

I change the angle and she cries a yelp of pleasure when I hit her pleasure spot

"I found it. Yeah you like it don't you?

When i fuck you this ruthlessly"

I'm giving my all to her

My hands fondle with her boobs and then reach her clit rubbing it in a certain way to intensify the pleasure, she is a whimpering mess, unable to control her voice and letting out all her desires

"Oh daddy... I am ..... so close"

"Cum for me baby"

"I am close too" I announce before kissing her back

"so sensitive " I feel her losing control over her body as she violently shakes over me moaning my name with unholy curses

I ride through her orgasm and soon reach my own... even after all this slickness I find it hard to move as her walls are clenching my dick, she is beyond perfect... after a few more thrusts I launch myself in her too filling her to the brim...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This girl deserves all the love in this world, I decide to clean her up and bring a fresh kitchen towel mentally noting to clean it up later, I clean her and look at her peacefully sleeping in a deep slumber.. that's when I realize that I never confessed to her and the relationship between us is merely just till a fuck?

"jungkook.." her soft voice brings me back to her "I am sorry, I got a little tired that I fell asleep" she is explaining herself to me, "my angel you don't have to, I understand how tired you would be after all that work and then... this" I look at her apologetically, maybe I should have just comforted her tonight

"No, no, what are you saying... do you regret it?" she speaks swallowing a lump in her throat, what? no! I don't regret it, I just feel like you will ...

should I tell her?

should I let her know about my insane crush on her.. would this make it worse?

"your silence isn't helping me jeon.."

"no"

"I don't regret it" I can do this "in fact I loved it, I have liked you since the first moment I saw you in that beige coat. It's okay I know that you will not reciprocate my feelings I just needed to"

"shush" she places a finger on my lips

"you like me?" she inquires me and I simply nod

"then it's a perfect brew between us" bopping my nose she kisses my cheeks

"because I like you too"

__________________________________________

hope you like it 🥰

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts fantasy au #bts x reader #bts smut #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook barista #bts barista #bts coffee #jungkook coffee #jeongguk #s2l #strangers to lovers #jungkook #jeon jungkook

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lolabangtan · 2 years

Text

love: undercover | kth

In your late twenties and sporting a temper ‘totally unfit for marriage’, you're happy being the heiress and CEO of one of Korea’s biggest conglomerates. That is, until you have to pose as Kim Taehyung's new secretary.

Word count: ??

Warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of infidelity and parental neglect.

# office AU, romance, angst, fluff, comedy, CEO!Taehyung x CEO turned secretary!fem reader, first meeting gone wrong, soft bubbly Taetae :’), fake identity, sexual tension, unrequited mutual pining, side Namjoon x OC, lots of idols, it’s overall pretty soft even if it’s got its dramatic bits.

A/N: don’t ask where this came from, just take it. I’ll manage to make it work somehow. Missing Taetae hours.

Read this story with its own Spotify playlist.

INDEX

1. Shoplifter

2. Mission: undercover

3. Matchmaking, maybe

4. Itching

5. Pair bond

6. The pest

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jiminzfilter · 1 year

Text

Unexpected Miracles

→ Pairing. hoseok x Reader

→ Genre. half-strangers to lovers, blind dating au (kind of), fluff

→ Summary. an old crush comes waltzing into your life when you need a date for a Winter Gala

→ Word count. 5.2k

→ Warnings. reader's family is a bit abusive and likes down-talking her :,(, mentions of light alcohol consumption (be careful when you drink, please!!), mentions of a mental breakdown

→ A/n. this is a gift for @beingsuneone for the @bangtansecretsanta exchange 🎄 Hi Kaillei, I'm your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this gift I made for you as much as I enjoyed interacting with you all through December. Somehow, this is the complete opposite of what I planned on writing but I think changing the plot mid-story was the right choice to make. Hope you'll like it :)

-> thank you so much @playmetheclassics for beta-reading this fic!! I’m so grateful for your constant help and support, it really means a lot to me🥺❤️

There is nothing you hate more than the Christmas season. The decorated streets, the storefronts full of fake gifts under an overdecorated tree. Couples wearing matching Christmas sweaters. The Christmas market which blasted holiday music until 2 am and your obnoxiously long yearly family Winter gala.

The gala, annoying as it sounds, takes place five days after Christmas each year and is a reunion of all the town's important people and its surroundings. All of that was exaggerated by some nice Christmas music, a huge decorated tree with presents underneath for the youngest guests… Everything you love.

You glare at your invitation on the coffee table and sigh. Even after you moved out of town (and far from your parents’ grasp), your mother found her way to get you to come to her event. Just as you are about to throw away the gold ornamented card, your phone rings and surprise! it’s your mother.

“Hello, darling! I sent out your invitation yesterday in express mail. Have you received it ?”

Of course, she would be only interested in her stupid event.

“Yes, mother. It’s in my hands right now”, you stop yourself from sighing, wanting to avoid your mother’s reprimands.

“Oh, perfect! Your father and I went to the store to select some dresses for you. You should go try them on by tomorrow if you want to have your dress on time!”

Did I forget to mention the winter gala is also a ball? Well, now you know…

“Well, about that, Mother. I wanted to tell you…”

“Oh, you can bring your companion too! What was his name again? Jake? Please bring him I remember him being such a lovely boy!”

“Not until I found him sleeping with another girl…” You mumble before saying louder “Mother, Jake and I went our separate ways a year ago. ”

There’s a short silence before your mom answers.

“Shame, well, you better come accompanied or you will embarrass of this family. Again. Excuse me, darling, but your Grandfather is calling me again. I shall go. We expect to see you at the gala so do not disappoint us,” she instructs before hanging up

"I'm gonna need a miracle to go” You furrow your brows and brush a hand through your hair. It is infuriating how your mother never pays attention to anything you say or do. You were the fifth child, your siblings were four talented and successful children and your parents never gave you much attention or love. They would ask as much from you as they did with your siblings but never look at you the same even when you excelled in some things.

Kind of like the ugly duckling.

With resignation, you grab the invitation again. Your mother’s call was just a reminder of how required your presence there is even though no one cares about you unless it involves asking whether or not one of your brothers is still single (they do that).

“Well, what do you plan on doing?” Your brother asks and, judging by your deadly glare, he also deducts the answer by himself.

“Come on Y/n, you can’t avoid another family event, especially this one.”

You nib at your straw, taking a sip of your green smoothie -something your friends never understood your liking for (I mean, who in their right mind would be having a kale-based drink when fruits existed?)

“I don’t know Namjoon. I don’t want to face mom and dad after my job application was rejected last month” You almost cry at the thought. Your parents almost seemed proud when you told them you were on the waitlist for a big finance company in Seoul. You don’t even want to imagine their disappointment after hearing the news and you don’t want to hear about it.

“Well, sure. But you can’t keep avoiding us. I was on the phone with grandpa this morning. He told me he would love to see you again. You know, he’s much older now and this year will be his first year alone without grandma. He told me you remind him so much of her. Please, if you won’t come for us, at least come for him” He pleads

The thought of your grandfather feeling alone and the look on your brother’s face only grows your guilt. You think again about the white and gold invitation still on your kitchen table (right next to the trash can, yes) and then look at your brother.

You sigh: “Well if you come to help me get a dress, we only have one problem now: I need a date”

To that, your brother smiles, making his adorable dimple pop off and his eyes turn crescent moon.

That makes one Miracle

“Excuse me…?” A voice speaks from behind you. It was the waitress, back with Namjoon’s drink and your cake “Here is the rest of your order” She places everything on the table and, by the look in her eyes, you feel the question coming.

“Sorry to bother you, sir…” There it comes. You see her play with the hem of her apron “But I was wondering if you would be open to going out with me some days?”

Oh boy, poor girl

You can’t stop the smile that grows on your face. One thing you enjoy most about your family is seeing your brothers struggle to decline strangers asking them for a date. Namjoon is the funniest because he gets so shy when this happens; the boy can’t say no.

You’re about to answer for him when he clears his throat and offers the young lady a reassuring smile “Um, well. I am quite busy right now and we are mere strangers now. But maybe in a few coffees, I will reconsider your offer”

Oh? He pulled it off quite well this time. The waitress’s face crumbles and she leaves with a bitter expression, not knowing how to deal with Namjoon’s answer. Too bad because this one looked sweet and like the type of person your family would approve of. You exchange a look with your brother and start laughing before deciding it’d be better to quietly finish your drinks if you don’t want to get interrupted by more bold women again.

“Don't you think this dress makes me look fat?” You look at yourself in a huge mirror trying to see everything wrong with you and the dress.

Your three brothers, who surely have a better sense of fashion than you do, came to help you pick up a dress (some by choice, others because of your parents’ orders) and can’t hide the annoyance on their faces when you come out of the changing rooms asking the same question. Namjoon takes his eyes off his book to look at you with a stern face. You can see that he is annoyed to hear you talk down about yourself (and so are your other brothers).

Seokjin stands up and positions himself behind you, looking into your eyes in the mirror. “I think…” he puts his hands on your shoulders “that it’s been fifty minutes since we’ve been here and you still haven’t found a dress you like. You look perfect in each of them though”

“It's true” Taehyung adds “I don’t see anything wrong with any of the dresses, or with you. But I will have to agree that the puffy sleeves on this dress look horrendous and way too middle age for you”

You hear the shop owner gasp and a little smile appears on your face.

“How many more dresses do I have to try on?” You ask her with the hope that your pains are almost over. She looks at the tray where all the dresses you were supposed to try are and sigh. “Well, I think only one remains from your parents’ selection…” your shoulders fall and look desperately to Seokjin in the mirror.

“But wait! I remember that your grandfather ordered me to make a dress for you last month. I was asked to send it to you this morning. Still, when I received the call from your mother yesterday saying you’ll come to try on some dresses, I figured it’d be better to give it to you in person”

A smile forms on your face and you look at Namjoon like a kid on Christmas Day. He winks at you

“If you’d like to go to your changing room, I’ll bring it to you immedia”

The gown you see is no ordinary thing. Your eyes become teary with the memory this dress brings you, for it is the same dress that was worn by the princess in your favourite fairytale. Your grandmother would read it to you when you were a child and you’d always tell her how much you loved the blue sparkly dress the princess wore. You are quick to put it on and come out to show it to everyone.

“It’s perfect!”

That Makes Two

It’s almost been a week since you accepted to go to your family winter gala and after you got your gown and your brothers’ help with how you should do your hair and which guests you should avoid, you still needed a date to come with you. It is not specified where it is requested to have a date in the invitation but it is kind of the unspoken rule of the event: who would want to come to a gala unaccompanied?

As the host’s daughter, you are not to come alone. It would bring shame to your family and your mother’s daily messages reminding you how important it is for her that everything goes according to plan is only a reminder of how perfect you are not.

You sigh and scroll down your contact list, hoping to find someone suitable for the event. To your great dismay, every potential date is either busy, taken or unwilling. After hours of trying to convince your old roommate (who still owes you for the time you saved his butt in an embarrassing public situation you don’t miss to remind him), you are out of ideas

“Come onnnnnn Chan, are you sure? I could use your help right now…” You pout. The hesitation is visible on his face but you can see how he brushes a hand through his hair and clenches his jaw so that he won’t give in.

"I already told you, Y/n. I can’t. I need to fly back to Canberra to visit my mom for Christmas. I can’t cancel three days before. She would be so heartbroken. I’m already halfway packed… Sorry”

You almost want to cry to try and convince him but you know it is no use. “You know my parents will kill me if I come alone, right? How am I supposed to survive a ball without a partner? I’d do fine on my own during the dinner but dancing on my own?? I don't even want to think about it.” You take a sip of water.

“I know I know” Chan tries reassuring you “Hey! I might have an idea! Do you remember my friend Hoseok who went to Washington to do business a few years ago? ”

You remember the tall and lean brown-haired guy whom you met a few times when Chan had some friends over at the beginning of your flat-sharing days. You picture his sparkly golden brown eyes and perfect smile that made your heart go crazy back in the day. It didn’t long to crush him hard, even though the only conversation you managed to hold with him was to ask him if he was okay after he spilt his drink on you.

“Barely…why do you ask ?” You lie.

As soon as you ask the question, you get an idea of what your old roommate is thinking.

“Well, I’ve heard that he would be back in town this week and probably be on his own during the holidays…” he offer suggestively.

“What did you say his name was again?” You ask as you open your computer.

A few seconds of research later, you manage to find his social media profile but don’t find much information about him, just the already-made conclusion that he looks hot as hell.

“So, what do you think?” Chan asks and when you say that you would be open to meeting him, he promises to do his best to set up a meeting with him as soon as he is back in town

That’s your Third Miracle.

It has been one week since the last time you talked to Chan and you only have three days before the event. Your mother called again this morning to make sure that you would come and to remind you again how important it is that you fit into the family and that you look great and play nice all night long. Such pressure for such a stupid thing. Helping children in need during the holiday season sure is important but does she have to be on your back like that?

“It’s not because I messed up once that I should be treated any differently than any of her other children,” you huff angrily as you pack a bag to bring to your parents’ place. You still remember that day even though it has been years since it happened. You were still living at the manor with everyone back then and your life was somewhat not a mess. Your mom made you wear an excessively tight dress with lots of tulles and tied your hair in a bun so tight you wonder how she didn’t rip your scalp apart. Then she introduced you to every young man your age that attended the party until she found one who seemed to pique your interest and left you there. That man, whom your mother deemed very well educated and of good composition, turned out to be a complete ass who kept talking down to you. Well, until you threw your champagne cup at him and insulted his whole family tree and ran out (but not without walking on your dress and falling flat on the wooden floor).

Your parents barely managed to keep their business with the boy's parents and you were sent to a boarding school overseas for two years (holidays included). Lord knows those were some of the best two years of your life. You remind yourself of all the good memories you made in England and how you met your boyfriend- now ex- but your phone ringing in the background snatches you out of those moments

You groan, “What again”

The number on the screen doesn’t ring a bell so you answer carefully.

“Hello?” Maybe this is the call you’ve been waiting for.

The person on the other end seems as hesitant as you are “ Hello? Kim Y/n? I'm Jung Hoseok. Remember me? I think one of our friends set us up? For an event ?” Your heart skips a beat, his voice is even more sensual than you remembered.

Fourth miracle ♪

“Oh! Yes, Hoseok! Hello!! It’s nice to finally hear from you! I’m surprised Chan managed to convince you. How are you ?” You try to stay polite despite the more than odd situation

Hoseok clears his throat “Um… I’m- good, thanks. Listen, this is super weird, would you like to meet up? So we can talk more properly?” His tone is hesitant but hopeful (somehow??)

You chuckle, not expecting the offer but agreeing.

“I’m still at my place but I know a nice cafe downtown. It’s very quiet so we can talk without being disturbed. I’ll send you the address and meet you there in… let’s say half an hour alright?” You try to sound as confident as possible despite the furious beats of your heart.

“Okay, see you there!” He hangs up and you let out a breath you haven't even realized you were holding.

You send a message to Chan thanking him for the help, then scold him for not telling you he talked to Hoseok and then freaking out because you have a date in thirty minutes with a stranger you’re supposed to introduce to your parents as your date in three days.

You know you can’t do dates. The fact hits you even harder when you enter the cafe and see him. You suddenly feel way too overdressed for this even though you’re only wearing a plain black dress you still took fifteen minutes to choose. Hoseok is sitting at a table in the back corner of the room, a cup of coffee in his hand and a computer opened on his right. You walk up to him and greet him. “Hello again. It’s nice to see you again.” He stands up and shakes the hand you stretch out. “The pleasure’s all mine. How long has it been? Five years? More?” He says with a smile that makes his eyes disappear and dimples appear at the side of his mouth. “Long enough” Your eyes meet and you suddenly feel very overwhelmed by his presence. It reminds you of how it made you feel: he smells good, looks good and something in the way his eyes sparkle makes your heart weep.

You clear and break the contact before sitting. After a waitress comes to take your order, you and Hoseok start talking, about everything and anything, getting to know each other a little, catching up and you realize that you two have surprisingly good chemistry.

“Well, for example, you ordered black coffee before I arrived. No milk or sugar. So I can say that you’re someone who likes to be efficient in every possible way. You like things to be done precisely in your work but also want to keep things simple there, which might be a reason for your success. You’re wearing a high-end sweater in a very trendy outfit and colour-matched your briefcase to your shoes, which tells me you’re also a very organized person. I didn’t do much research on you, just enough to know what you do for a living and how popular you are with the opposite sex, but based on what I see now I can guess many things about your personality” You conclude your little analysis with a smile and take a sip of your latte, living Hoseok speechless.

Finally, he laughs “Wow, I have never been analyzed this way. Especially on a first date. That’s impressive! Did you study psychology ?”

Your heart skips a beat upon hearing the word date but you don’t let it show. “I was a bookworm as a teenager and my parents have a huge library where I spent most of my childhood. I think I have read dozens of psychology books. It helped me a lot in my college years and then in my work” You smile at him, avoiding mentioning that you read psychology books because you tried to understand why you felt so blue all the time as a child and also why your parents were so mean to you.

“What would your coffee order say about you?” Hoseok asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You smile mischievously.

“Well, I’ll try not to be too biased but I ordered a latte so I’d say that I am a people pleaser with a tendency to overextend myself and neglect my needs if I can help someone. I’m probably very generous and helpful but also very sweet and imaginative. I asked for extra foam on top, which could suggest I’m still a child at heart, or that I didn’t have a proper childhood with loving parents and all. I also wanted an extra shot of expresso inside, so maybe I lack sleep or I want my life to be bolder and more adventurous. I think that’s it” You smile at him.

After a brief silence, Hoseok speaks. “I’m sorry that your childhood wasn’t that great.” Hoseok puts his hand on top of yours. It might be a bit inappropriate for a first date with someone you barely know but, for some reason, everything feels right with him. "Chan mentioned it briefly when I had him on the phone the other day after he asked me to be your date for the family event. Life wasn’t hard for me either when I was a child, you know”

You grab his hand

“It’s okay, Hoseok. I’m doing fine now. I have my own place and everything far from my parents but I just have to come to their parties now and then.” You sigh “I still don’t know how Chan managed to convince you though. He can barely convince his mother to make him some dumplings” You laugh.

“I owed him a great deal. He let me crash at his place for almost a year after I broke up with my girlfriend when I was in uni. I was living in her apartment and the dorms were full. Since my parents were too far from the campus and I couldn’t find any apartments or frat to live in, Chan welcomed me in. If not for his help, I wouldn’t be where I am now”

Your eyes grow big. Chan never mentioned it, which is quite surprising because he told you his entire life up to his first memory.

“He never told me” Hoseok shrugs “Well, let’s not beat around the bush anymore! My family is organizing a big gala in three days. It’s an unspoken rule to come accompanied because the dinner turns into a ball when midnight hits. That’s cliché, right? Since my family is the host and my mother is a pain in the ass, I need a partner and you might be able to help me” You raise a brow .

“If you’re willing to do this with me I promise to make it worth your while. There are a lot of influential people coming so I’m sure that you will be able to find some to do business with. It’s a win-win situation! I have a partner to dance with so my family won’t be on my back for at least a few months and you will leave the party with contacts for work. So, what do you say?” You look at him with what you hope to be the best hopeful look you have, and his quick answer surprises you.

“I'm in!”

Another Miracle ♪

He winks at you and you feel your heart giving up on you. “YES! I mean- great! I guess we just have to make up the story of how we met before I introduce you to my family, then”

You try to remain calm because you don’t want to scare Hoseok off, but you’re screaming with joy interiorly. Or crying in panic. Who knows.

After about an hour of talking with Hoseok, you go back to your place with a very big smile on your face, very happy that you finally have someone to go with at the gala (and who might make the night a little bit more fun).

You and Hoseok message each other all night, exchanging information about your life and family. He tells you he is the owner of an emerging finance firm in the country, and that he has a house on the outskirts of Seoul where he lives when he isn’t working overseas. Hoseok has an older sister who got married last summer and a grey cat who’s probably in his house waiting for him to return.

12 pm | Hoseok: He’s probably chasing mice and eating bugs, though so don’t worry about him starving or anything Y/n

His message makes you laugh.

Hoseok turns out to be a very funny guy who has a strong personality and thrives for the success he says he is slowly getting. You notice he never really talks about work and tries to be as vague as possible if he does and you’re very thankful for that because it’s a sensitive subject for you. Especially because your parents have put so much pressure on you to be the best in everything while never giving you any credit for your work when you were still living with them that you avoid talking about any work-related thing you do by fear of being a failure to the eyes of others. Plus, it adds to the mystery around him, making him a whole lot more attractive.

You’re very happy to see that you and Hoseok have a lot in common and you don’t know whether it’s because of the time or the fact that you can still smell his perfume but you react way too intensely to each of his messages and the blush of your face when he says that you look cuter than he thought makes you wonder how long can it take you to catch feelings for someone.

No, it can’t be. You are not catching feelings for your ‘one-night stand’. You tell yourself that you’re too romantic and that the foreign feeling in your stomach is just the excitement linked with the current situation, right?

Hoseok arrived to pick you up at your apartment a little less than an hour ago. But he only found you in a mess of sparkly blue tulle and high heels, a glass of champagne in your hand and tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this, Hoseok. I’m sorry”

For someone introverted, you sure were telling a lot of personal things to this somewhat stranger-turned-friend. You tell him about how your mother called again, already blaming you for the bottle of wine your brother broke and every other little dumb thing that went wrong. You rant about how much she hates everything you do despite trying your best to satisfy her expectations.

The whole time, Hoseok just listens, an arm around your shoulder and a hand wiping your tears. It should be weird for you to let a stranger become this close to you this quickly and anyone would tell you to be careful because he is still someone you barely know but everything feels right with Hoseok and you feel like you can trust him completely. You may be wrong but, for now, you just want to enjoy what is happening.

When you manage to calm down, Hoseok tells you some fun facts about himself to cheer you up and then asks if you’re ready to go. You look at your reflection in the bottle of champagne. You’re definitely not ready. Nothing the magic of makeup can’t fix again, thank the lords.

Once you’re sure to be ready, you pour Hoseok a glass of champagne. He is a bit reluctant at first because he will be driving but you insist.

“You’re gonna need it, trust me,” you grab your glass, fill it again and clink it against Hoseok’s.

“Cheers,” you say at the same time before drinking the content of your glasses. Champagne is going to be your way to cope tonight and you know there will be lots of it at the gala. It also helps calm your nerves, if you don’t abuse it.

“Okay, we should get going.” You stand up and grab your jacket and your keys.

Hoseok holds the door open for you and offers to carry your bag, which surprises you. “We’re supposed to play boyfriend and girlfriend from now on, right? So come on, Angel, let me help you.” His smile is so bright and heartwarming that it’s painful to see.

The champagne must be acting up, right?

Or maybe it’s just the nerves and apprehension.

Right?

And Lord knows that you are nervous. And it shows. “So, how did we meet?” You ask Hoseok as you rearrange his scarf for the nth time in the last ten minutes.

Hoseok chuckles, his eyes leaving the road for a second to look at you. “Y/n, you’ve asked me the same questions over and over since we climbed into the car. You don’t have to be this nervous, it’s okay. Breathe”

You try to breathe your nerves out “Turn right at the next stop” You guide him to the manor.

“The nerves are killing me, Hoseok. What if my family sense that we barely know each other?? It would be worse than if I came alone. Oh god, I should’ve drank more champagne” You carefully rearrange a rebel strand of hair in your bun.

“No more champagne for you, Y/n. Unless you want to throw up at your parents’ feet, which I don’t think they would appreciate.” His comment makes you both smile.

You turn your head and look at him; it feels like time slows. Your smile slowly fades as you detail his delicate features. If you weren't already tipsy from the champagne, you would’ve certainly blushed when he catches you staring. But you don’t mind, and it seems like he doesn't either. Has he always looked this glowing? A swarm of butterflies is set free in your stomach and, when your eyes fall down his lips, you can’t help wondering how soft they would feel against yours.

I’m too tipsy for this

You shake your head and look at the road again. You need to focus. You are not falling for your old crush again.

Yet somehow you are.

You are because when your eyes meet his, your heart skips a beat and you can feel chills travel through your back.

You are because the way he grips your hip and holds your hand as you two waltz through the dancing room makes you feel precious. And dizzy.

You know you are and you can’t help it. All it took was 3 days.

This night is going too smoothly to be true: your parents were charmed by Hoseok, he gets along well with your father and can hold a good conversation with pretty much any guest. The dinner felt like it lasted an eternity but you are thankful that Hoseok was there to liven it up. He made you laugh so much you thought you would choke on your food at some point.

Everything he does is so infuriatingly adorable, it only makes you like him more. You can’t help a fond smile from appearing on your face when you look at him.

"I’m such a cliché,” You thought as you ate the last of your dessert.

But you don’t mind the cliché situation you are in right now, waltzing in a princess-like gown with your *previously old* crush whom you met again after 5 years of not seeing him, who is holding you a bit too tight for it to be innocent.

You don’t know if it was because of the wine the alcohol in your veins, the excitement, or some kind of mutual attraction, but somehow between the moment you admitted to having a crush on Hoseok and when he said you were beautiful, you and Hoseok found yourselves hidden in the gardens, his lips on yours. Your grip on his neck tightens when his kiss deepens.

Well, that was not expected

But definitely a welcomed miracle

88 notes · View notes

muniimyg · 3 months

Text

SOUR CANDY KISSES // KTH

it always begins with a casual kiss, doesn't it?

kim taehyung has given up on love. unfortunately for him, his 3-year-old son hasn't

navi | m. list | ask me ! | send an ask to be on the taglist ! i will not be responding to taglist requests anywhere else !

pairings: dilf taehyung + preschool teacher oc

au/genre:

childhood friends to lovers

slow pinning

fluff, crack & smut

warnings:

implied + actual smut (x)

note: oh... this is for my og's <3

after literal YEARS ... i am so excited to be posting this fic !!! if you haven't caught on,,, this fic is a spin-off of (one of my first) smau,, casual . you don't have to read it to understand the fic,, but i do encourage you to read it as this fic contains a lot of iykyk moments (it's basically a sequel duhhh) . this way you'll be able to understand the little details and also feel more satisfied with the character development .

+ casual jk / casual oc will be in this fic . for the sake of their universe ,, casual jk's oc will be referred to as momo (... iykyk)

parts: 0/20

ongoing

update schedule is undecided atm !

#bts fic #bts smau #taehyung dilf fic #dilf taehyung #dilf bts #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #tae scenario #bts v s2l #bts v scenario

192 notes · View notes

eleni-cherie · 6 months

Text

a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - epilogue

"so eager to be in a headlock again?"

"only if it's by you."

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

3 months later

somewhere in the mountains of Taiwan

Soyeon dragged out a breath, the pencil in her right hand coming flat onto the notebook on her knees. Her mind felt heavy and she slowly sank her head until it touched the pages. And she remained like this for seconds until stirring up and sitting straight again. Allowing her brown irises wandering over the scenary in front of her.

Everything green as far as the eye could reach. A mellow breeze brushing by, clouds moving slowly on the lightblue sky.

It was peaceful, it was calming.

Maybe too peaceful and too calming.

Picking up the earphones that had fallen from her ears previously, she put them back in. The same melody still playing on repeat.

She was motivated to write, however, she simply didn't feel inspired. That was the issue.

Her gaze fell back down on her half-written lyrics.

'sunny

exceptionally pleasant morning

sunny

even if I hum lightly

in the scorching sun

that dirty feeling flies away'

Why did she struggle so much coming up with a chorus and second verse?

Of course, deep down she knew the answer and simply didn't want to admit it to herself. Admit that the story wasn't completely finished yet. That one puzzle piece was still missing, one end being still open. She just didn't know if it'd ever be possible to complete the puzzle, to finish this story completely.

Frustrated, she shut the notebook with the pencil still inside and pulled the earphones out. There was no use to try. For today, she was done.

Stuffing everything back into her backpack, she decided to look for some company. It'd been an hour, that was enough me-time she decided and hopped the stony steps down from the porch to the garden. Finding her object of interest not too far away, secluded from any possible disruptive elements - even if there were hardly any in the middle of a temple in the mountains.

Folding her lips, she suddenly felt lighthearted and in the mood to tease him a little. So she took off her shoes, holding them in her hands as she barefootedly neared him with quiet steps. Trying her best not to make any sound on the grass.

Only a few steps seperated her from him when she paused, heaving her leg slowly. Her tongue sticking out mischieviously between her lips like always when being focused. Ready to poke him with her foot when his chuckle made her pause mid-air.

"You didn't actually think I haven't heard you from the moment you stood up from the porch, did you?"

Soyeon puffed her cheeks, huffing offendedly. "As if." Yoongi only laughed more when seeing her stepping in front of him with crossed arms and a sulky expression, making her even more adorable.

"Did you get bored and wanted to scare me?" he grinned smugly and stood up. And she earned a poke on her still puffy cheeks. "You finished the lyrics?" he asked then, tilting his head inquiringly. Only getting a disappointed sigh as response. And he nodded, understanding.

"It's okay, you tried your best," he said, giving her an encouraging smile then which made her only sulkier. Feeling somewhat embarrassed about him having to cheer her up over trivial things like this.

They turned around then, making their way back when Yoongi peeked at her. Sighing then. "It's that list of symbols, right? You can't get over it."

Perhaps she shouldn't be so astonished about his perfect deduction as it was probably more than obvious. Ever since she had told him about it, he'd offered his help but she refused, believing it'd be pointless. But deep down, he knew, she couldn't let go of the curiosity.

Soyeon looked away, feeling only more embarrassed about having been so easily to figure out, like an open book. "Maybe.." was the only thing she was willing to admit in that moment.

»»»

The third manga volume was spread between her fingers when she eventually got tired of reading. She hadn't noticed how much time had passed already.

The scenery outside was only a blur. The mood depending on how much sunlight the clouds left through. Currently, they were hanging dark and low, creating a gloomy atmosphere contrasting to the deep green of the fields and forests.

For a moment she paused, simply staring out of the train. The view of the afternoon giving her some kind of inspiration, a tingly feeling spreading in her fingers.

It was usually random things like this, even watching animation films could sparkle her inspiration. So she quickly got her earphones out along with her writing tools.

Tapping her pen against the notebook which was balanced on her folded thighs. Chin resting on the palm of her hand as she pensively observed the grey cloud-blanket. Trying to fill in the empty spaces in the melody that was on repeat by creating somewhat poetic sounding sentences out of nothing.

She peeked at Yoongi then who had somehow managed to fall asleep next to her almost as soon as the train had departed. She internally scoffed, but couldn't help observing his sleeping self with a soft expression. His chest raising and falling under his folded arms, while his head was leaning against the seat. Dark streaks slightly covering his forehead and eyes.

She still couldn't believe he had convinced her in giving it a try. Frankly, it might not have been that hard after all, but she liked to pretend it was.

When she took a closer look of him, she could notice him having similar dark circles under his eyes as her. And she wondered if it was her fault, having unintentionally compelled him into staying up late with her, contemplating which decision to make. Her lips curled into a smile when reminiscing their conversation the previous night. He hadn't really pushed her or tried arguing, his words had been rather simple. Yet effective. And his voice was still stuck in her mind.

"My honest opinion? Do it or don't - you might regret both anyway. But if you don't, you'll have to live with the 'what if' and I think that's worse."

A string of words suddenly crossed her mind and she averted her eyes from him, redirecting her gaze onto the landscape.

'how was your sky today

how was your day today

how was your weather?

oh, my season?

every summer the same

good weather, bad weather

come and go'

She scribbled the words down when a yawn excaped her lips. She envied him. Despite her also still being tired, she wasn't able to fall asleep as easily, especially not in a cramped train.

And yet, her eyes did close eventually and she almost dozed off. Her head sliding onto his shoulder and resting there for awhile until one of her earphones dropped, startling her a little. Her eyes opened and she plugged it back into her ear, straightening herself and focusing back on the melody. Her eyes returning outside. Letting her mind wander.

'cloudy

dark clouds

have lost their taste

manic-depressed sky

you're dyeing even me'

She propped her chin on her fist when noticing small droplets hitting the glass. The pen tapped along the rhythm when she glanced at Yoongi again, pausing.

'in the rushing clouds

that clear feeling flies away

don't come, don't come anymore

summer, don't cry now

it's time to pass

how was your sky today?

how's your weather?

rainy

it's a rainy night'

She noted everything down, being so absorbed in her writing that she hadn't noticed Yoongi stirring up at her movement. Stretching next to her.

"What time is it?" he yawned, not getting any answer as the music in her ears was blasting too loud.

Confused, he blinked an eye open, realising she didn't hear him. And he got curious, now fully awake he leaned over to see what she was doing. His eyes widening when seeing her hand gliding over the paper.

He observed her writing like she was possessed by that pen, finding the way how immersed she was quite endearing. And he didn't want to disturb her flow, being happy her inspiration had returned in the end, so he sat back again. Waiting until she eventually put the pen down, exhaling contently.

She took a proud look at the once blank pages in front of her then. It was quite a lot. She had verses, the bridge and chorus. Not bad, she smiled to herself and was about to go back when the music was cut off in one of her ears. Startled, she looked aside, seeing Yoongi holding the earphone to his own ear and taking a listen.

He hummed then. "Didn't know you also work on weekends," he smirked and gave it back to her, seeing her pausing the music on her phone.

"I don't, but the weather fits the song's mood so I got some inspiration.."

"Huh, is that so.." His eyes instantly went outside, seeing the low hanging clouds, then went back to her notepad. "You know, you've never shown me any of your songs." He held her gaze while an implying smile spread on his lips, "You said you would."

Her lips folded, remembering their conversation months ago. "I did say that.."

She hadn't done it on purpose, avoiding showing him any of her work all those months. The opportunity simply never occured. Usually she was all by herself when writing lyrics, to concentrate better. So naturally, he didn't really saw her doing it and she didn't happen talking about it besides complainging whenever she got stuck.

She handed him the earphone back with a nervous feeling. "I don't know if you're gonna like them though.." she mumbled, searching up songs she had worked on.

He cocked a brow at her, mockingly. "Since when are you so self-conscious?"

Ignoring his teasing, she pressed play. Watching his eyes widening while the song progressed. "You wrote that?"

"The chorus and second verse only. Not the whole thing."

The irrational nervousness that rose in her didn't get any better with his unreadably stoic expression while listening through them all. She knew the songs were good, otherwise they wouldn't have got picked. And yet, she was nervous about his opinion, knowing he wouldn't lie just to be polite or because she was his girlfriend. Maybe only sugarcoat it, not to be too harsh. However, much to her ego's delight, he didn't have to do either one.

"You've got a nice way with words," he nodded then, unable to hide the clear adoration lingering in his simple words.

And she smiled.

He might not be a man of many words, but the ones he chose to say were always the right ones.

»»»

Taipei, Taiwan

"I.. don't understand anything."

With a yet again sulky expression she lowered the piece of paper. Not being able making any sense of the symbols drawn by her grandfather ages ago. Her already lacking certainty about finding the mystery behind them only declining ever since they had stepped foot out of the train.

After finding it behind the photo frame, she had tried - -and failed to decipher whatever code this was supposed to be. Leading her to give up back then. So she didn't know why she'd thought this time by being at the location would be different.

She knew 'oro' meant 'gold' in italian, most likely hinting at all the loot her grandfather had gathered over the years of being a secret thief and which interpol had still been unable to locate till now. This, however, was her only clue. The rest of the symbols had remained unknown to her.

She knew that this unsolved mystery constantly invading her thoughts in the back of her mind would never let her go, unless she tried solving it, though.

And yet, right now, she regretted telling Yoongi about it and him convicing her of going there.

Who knew, maybe it was nothing after all. Just a silly little doodle made by an old man.

"Don't give up so quickly, we just arrived," Yoongi scolded her and looked around, "And you're sure this is the place that photo was taken at?"

She nodded, fiddling out a photo from her backpack and pointing at it. "Yeah, see. That's my grandpa and that - " She pointed at the Little South Gate behind them. "Is the exact same spot. He even wrote it on the back."

However, something else seemed to have caught his attention instead. Brown irises fixated on the photo she was holding in front of his eyes. He grabbed it then with a scowl. "Who's this guy next to your grandfather again?"

She shrugged. "No clue. Some friend, I assume, whose name was 'M'. See." She turned the photo and he read the handwriting himself. "Why?"

"'Cause he seems oddly familiar. And I never forget a face," he mumbled then, trying his hardest to remember where he'd seen this man before or if he had at all. The photo was quite old.

She slid the photo back into her bag then, redirecting their focus onto the mysterious symbols.

"Let me see again," Yoongi said, peeking over her shoulder to the piece of paper she was holding.

This wasn't the first cypher he had come across. Over the years, he and the guys had seen and solved lots of them in order to find hidden treasures. This one, however, was quite different from the previous ones.

These symbols could mean anything or nothing at all.

And his eyes narrowed while trying making sense of them. "What's this?"

Soyeon squinted her eyes at the spot he was pointing at next to the 'W' and the arrow. Indeed, she hadn't paid attention to it before as it had almost completely faded away compared to the rest, but there was also a moon symbol.

"A crescent? Now I'm even more confused.." she mumbled under her breath. Losing any hope she had to ever find her grandfather's haul.

"Let's not over-complicate things," Yoongi said then with a surprising enthusiasm in his voice. He seemed to have caught onto something, she could see it in his little grin. Glancing at his watch then, he saw it was almost 6pm. The sun would set soon. "'Moon' might indicate night. And the 'W' with the arrow perhaps the cardinal point, West. So whatever these symbols are, we can only see them at night when going west from the Little South Gate. What do you think?"

Her brows rose in awe, his interpretation making sense. At least they had another possible clue now. "But.." she slowly began then, the excitement leaving her eyes, "Grandpa wrote that 'map' - or whatever this is - years ago. Who knows if these symbols still exist nowadays. "

He only hummed. "Suck it and see," he shrugged and began walking down the western located street. The raven-haired girl observed him dumbfounded before quickly trotting behind him. Following him with a curious glare as the sky darkened above them.

"So something you can only see at night," she thought out loud then, her eyes going back and forth from one side of buildings to another. "What could that be?"

A square. A rectangle with a semicircle on top. A triangle. An umbrella. A star. A keyhole.

She abrubtly stopped then. Her eyes widening. "Isn't that.. a rectangle with a semicircle on top?"

Yoongi paused in his tracks to look over his shoulder. His eyes then following her gaze, catching indeed a big blue neon-light on the top of a department store shaped like the second symbol.

"And there, a square!" she exclaimed excitedly. Pointing at red neon-sign on the opposite side of the street. "You think he meant neon-signs?"

"Could be," he smiled at her beaming face. And they continued walking down the street when Yoongi caught something that could be the third symbol. "You see the lights over there?"

She nodded vigorously at the illuminated triangle-sign of a building. Taking a look at the cryptic map then. "So we might've found the first three."

"What was the next one?"

"An umbrella."

An umbrella-shaped sign might be harder to find, if something like that even existed.

They continued looking around in the crisp evening, unable to find any neon-lights in that form, though, which was expected. A bright cloud icon on a display catching Yoongi's interest then. It was for weather forecast, informing tomorrow's weather would be cloudy again. And he smirked, beginning to understand.

"I can't find any," Soyeon stated with disappointment when he nudged her side, motioning with his chin to the display among the numerous billboards at the crossroads in front of them.

"I think I found our umbrella."

Her brows furrowed puzzled. Not being able seeing what he meant until it finally clicked and her expression returned to an excited one. "I see.. when this was drawn the weather forecast was predicting rain."

He nodded. "Now the star is missing."

Soyeon immediatelly perked up at this. A star, right! She had seen a star somewhere near by.

She started running, taking him aback. Only stopping at the end of the block, where the tall buildings weren't hiding the ferris wheel in the distance anymore. "He surely meant the giant star-shaped lights on this!" She faced him with a huge smile and he reciprocated.

"You're right, no way it's not this."

"That means only the last symbol is left."

The keyhole.

"Maybe it's not a light, though," Soyeon mused, "Maybe it just stands for the lock where the loot is at."

Shaking his head, he disagreed. "I don't think so." He grabbed her hand then, taking a few steps back until the vertical neon-framed billboard on one of the buildings was perfectly alligning with a circle of lightbulbs on the taller building behind it. Creating a keywhole-shape.

"You think that's.." She looked up at him questioningly, seeing him giving her an innocent look.

"Who knows.." Taking a glance behind then, he noticed they were standing right in front of an entrance. "But if I'm correct, then.. it's probably inside this building."

Her eyes grew, looking at the dark building that was quietly soaring to the sky. She rummaged the key out of her pocket then and inspected it closely. There was a small letter engraved on one side. B.

"B. Basement?"

"Possible. The only way to find out is to get in."

"Get in? But it seems there's nobo- oh. Oh!" She looked at him with big eyes, making him chuckle.

"You guessed right. We'll just break in."

"Or wait till tomorrow?"

He arched a brow at her. "You actually wanna wait till tomorrow? And have people ask questions?"

Watching her contemplating it, mouth moving from one side to another she eventually gave in with a groan. "Ugh, fine. But only if you're sure we won't get caught."

He scoffed. "You offend my abilities as a thief."

"Isn't Jimin the thief and you and Taehyung rather the assistants?" she grinned teasingly to which he only shrugged casually. "If that's the case you don't need me here then." And he turned around on his heels, ready to leave when she grabbed his arm, pulling him back with an eyeroll.

They decided to go look for the back entrance, it being less risky to enter from there. He took his phone out to switch on the flashlight as picking a lock in complete darkness went beyond his abilities, when seeing his screen being filled with notifications of multiple missed calls and texts from Jimin. All in caps. He turned his screen to her then so she'd read them as well.

chim (6:45pm): GUYS

chim (6:45pm): IDK WHERE YOU ARE BUT COME ASAP

chim (6:45pm): PLS?

chim (6:46pm): THE BABY IS COMING

chim (6:47pm): IM GONNA BE A DAD!!!!

Their eyes grew, exchanging glances.

"Oh my - When's the next train leaving? We must hurry!" Soyeon asked panicked, causing Yoongi to give her an astonished look. "But what about your grandfa-"

"It was hidden for decades, a few days or weeks more won't matter," she quickly dismissed his worry, waving him off. "Come, let's go already!"

And he smiled, nodding.

And so they went back to the central station. Catching the last train back to Tainan.

THE END

»»»

thank you all for reading this story! it was fun writing it, so hope you also had fun reading it!

-lyrics taken from soyeon's solo song "weather"! idk i really like this song and it fit hah

-a prequel oneshot (?) for tae x cas might follow, as well as drabbles to other characters. keep an eye on my blog/masterlist not to miss anything!

- check out my other bts stories, too: here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback! ♡

It motivates me to keep writing :)

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