#student!taehyung | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelycupid47 · 6 months

Text

Yandere! Kim Taehyung College AU! One-shot

a/n: This is my first fan fiction in a while. I'm trying to get the storyline readable and not cringe. So, if it does, I'm sorry

pairing: yandere!college student! Taehyung x college student! female reader.

TW: manipulation, slight abuse, and one swear word.

Everyone was jealous of you. They envied you. The reason is your boyfriend, Kim Taehyung. Your boyfriend was the most handsome, kind, loyal, and perfect man that every girl wished they had. Your boyfriend made sure that everyone knew that he belonged to you. Always staying by your side, blatantly ignoring any girl that tries to flirt with him, leaving hickeys every time you stay over in his dorm, deleting any messages from women that would try to seduce him, and even tattooing your name on his collarbone. Yet it has become overwhelming for you.

You met him in your first year of college. You were struggling to make friends and were finding adjustment a little difficult. It wasn’t until you met him through a classmate who invited you over to a club. You guys hit off great. You thought he was such a gentleman and handsome guy that befriending had become easy. Oh, how so wrong were you?

Taehyung thought you were amazing and beautiful. Seeing your smile created a spark in his stomach that he didn’t want to go away. When he saw you in the sunlight, he believed that you were an angel that was sent to him since you were so perfect for him. He was so perfect for you. He knew he had to have you, so he asked you for your number and you being naive, said yes.

It started with texting each other every single day to daily luncheons to dating by the end of your freshmen semester. You guys were the perfect couple and everyone on campus knew you two could never be separated. It’s not like you want to separate. It's more like he doesn’t want to at ALL be separated away from you. At first, it was lovely and sweet, but your friends started noticing some signs that weren’t so lovely.

“I thought you told Taehyung, you are spending time with the girls.” One of your blonde friends, Nayeon, said.

“I did, but you know him. He gets really anxious when I don’t text him back over 30 minutes.” You defended.

“Isn’t that a little too much? He has been nonstop texting you since you sat down.” Your Burnett friend, Jihyo, questioned.

“Yeah, but he has really bad anxiety, so if I don’t text him quick enough, there is a chance he can get a panic attack. Last time, I forgot to text him before my test and he ended up calling me 20 times and left 50 messages about if I was okay and if I was in danger.”

Both of your friends looked at each other wearily and back at you who was oblivious to how manipulative it sounded. Taehyung had never acted like this before, especially since they had known him longer than you. They've seen his previous relationships, and he never acted that way with any of the girls. This raised concerns among the girls and gave them a slight suspicion of something that wasn’t right. Since then they started observing you guys interaction in public.

What they noticed was how subtly possessive he could get. It started with just grabbing your hand and never letting go unless you need to use both hands. They saw how he would beg for your attention when you were talking to another guy. The worst of all is the death stare he would give to any guy or girl who tries to flirt with you. Instead of voicing their concerns to you, they kept quiet.

You, Taehyung, and your friend group decided to go eat out since exams were over. It was a moment to destress and eat/drink all of their worries away. It was going so perfectly until your boyfriend took it too far.

“Who are you texting?” Taehyung asks.

“Oh a relative, they are wondering if I’m coming home during break.” You proclaimed. Out of nowhere, you felt arms wrapping around you and a sudden whine.

“Who told you you can leave me alone? Who is going to cuddle with me at night then? What about our morning breakfast together? You can't leave your boyfriend here by himself.” He whined out loud. Usually, this behavior would be cute to your friends, but now it has become really annoying.

“You can wait a couple of months without her. It's not like she dying,” Nayeon mumbled, head down and moving her food around.

“No, that is a crime. I need the love of my life with me at all times. She is my other half.” He defended while slightly glaring at her.

“Well, have you ever thought that maybe giving her space?” Jihyo argued back with the same glare intensity as him. “It becomes overwhelming when you don’t leave her side, especially when she needs to use the restroom.”

You didn’t like where this was going, especially since it started raising some tension on the table. “Are you tired of me, baby?” Taehyung pouted pulling his most unforgiving puppy dog's eyes. The eyes he knew that you can’t say no to.

“O-of course not!” You defended, “I would never think like that because I know how much it affects you, and you know how much I love you. I-I love the affection you give me.”

“Yeah, it is endearing, but Taehyung, it does become overwhelming even for us when all you talk about is Y/N. We get it, you are a hopeless romantic and are head over heels, but hearing about it even when she is not with us is getting really annoying.”Jungkook, Taehyung’s best friend, retorted. He heard from both Nayeon and Jihyo how Taehyung doesn’t set boundaries and is always in your space. At first, he didn’t believe it, but he started paying attention and saw what the other two girls were mentioning. Whenever Jungkook and Taehyung hang out with other guys, Taehyung is always gushing about how pretty and wonderful you are. Then he would be stuck on his phone texting you instead of talking to them. There was even one-time Taehyung yelled at Jimin, a close friend of theirs, for telling Taehyung that he could do so much better than you and that you were just going to be a college fling that he would forget about in the future. Jungkook remembered that day being the only time he saw Taehyung almost get physical with someone. The rage he saw in Taehyung’s eyes was something he could never forget and would haunt him in his sleep.

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He was looking down at his lap staying silent making you even more worried. “Guys, I understand your concerns, but I don’t mind it. Besides, you guys are not considering his separation anxiety. I thought you guys knew about his trauma. So, leave him alone, please.” You begged, it hurts seeing your boyfriend being judged by the people he trusted the most.

“Y/N, he doesn’t have separation anxiety. He just saying that so you can feel pity for him. I asked his mom two days ago and she said he never experienced any trauma.” Nayeon bickered. At that, it was Taehyung’s last straw. He stood up and grabbed your hand. “We will be leaving. Seeing as none of you guys support our relationship.” And you both left the restaurant without listening to your friend’s protest.

The car back to your dorm was silent. No words were coming out of him. You tried lightening the mood, but all you got was one-word answers. It was concerning to you because you never saw him like this. It has been close to two years since you guys started dating, and you have never seen this side of him. Yes, there were also arguments between you, but he was always the one asking for forgiveness whenever you made a move to leave the room. This is something that can actually take a turn in your relationship.

Once at your dorm room, it was just you and him. Your roommate already left back home once exams were finished, so you had the room all to yourself before you headed back home. “Y/N. Give me your phone.” Taehyung demanded in his monotonous voice. A voice he avoids using on you. He was standing by your bed while you were still near the door.

“Why? Can we talk about what happened back at the restaurant first?” You questioned. In the car, you thought about what Nayeon said. Was it true? Were you being lied to?

“I don’t want to talk about it. Especially with people that want to separate us. Now give me your phone.” He extended his hand out expecting you to oblige to his demand, but you were hesitant.

“Those people are our friends. They weren’t trying to separate. They are just concerned for my well-being because you can become overbearing!” Yeah, you were mad at your friends for ganging up on your boyfriend, but they were your only friends since Freshman year. Besides them, no one wanted to be your friend for some odd reason.

“So you agree with them. You can’t stand being with me... Am I annoying you with my love, babe? Is my affection and love something you don’t like? Do you not love me anymore? D-do you hate me?” Taehyung gave you the most heartbreaking expression that you have ever seen.

“Taehyung, you know that is not what I mean.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you don’t love me anymore. Is it because Jihyo and Nayeon are brainwashing you to stop loving me.” He started advancing towards you.

“They have nothing to do with this Tae.” You started slowly backing away.

“They have everything to do with this since they started the whole thing. Obviously, they are trying to persuade you to leave me. Unless…” He had you against the wall while gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Are you cheating on me with Jungkook? After all, he is the only man you interact with and he was quick to make sure to separate you from me.” He was staring straight into your eyes which were diluted with anger while his grip on you was tightening every second.

“Taehyung you are hurting me! You are jumping to a conclusion. There is nothing going on with me and Jungkook, okay? You know that I love you and only, so why would I want Jungkook.” You try reasoning with him, but it seems like nothing is getting to him.

“Prove it. Block them.” He declared, and from the expression on his meant he was serious.

“Block them? Do you mean our friends? The one that has been with us since the beginning? Taehyung this is getting out of hand.” You tried getting out of his grip but he ended up digging his nails into your skin.

“The friends that got us in this argument. The same friends that insulted me in front of you, your boyfriend. The same friends that made fun of my condition, Y/N. What about the time that they picked on your outfit because it was too childish? What about the time they talked shit behind your back and yet you forgave them. You know and I know that they are the toxic ones, so I’m going to ask you one more time. Block. Them. Or help me god I will do it for you.” You were helpless because you knew he was speaking facts and you couldn’t argue back. To you they were facts, but to him, they were lies that he made up and manipulated to make sure you believed him. You defeatedly handed your phone that was buzzing with missed calls from your friends.

He grabbed it and blocked your friends on your phone and any other social media platforms. He wanted to make sure that none of them had any contact with you. Heck, he would even make sure that they don’t even be in the same room with you.

“See, was that hard.” He cupped your face with his veiny hands and kissed your tears away. You didn’t know you were crying until you felt his lips on your eyelids.

“Don’t worry. We have each other. Isn’t that enough? We can be even more affectionate without the nagging people insulting us.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders while you wrapped your arms around his waist. His head was lying on top of yours while swaying you both from side to side.

“It is me and you against the world. Forever.” If only you saw the smirk he had on his face, you wouldn’t be nuzzling his neck.

126 notes · View notes

darkjimxn · 1 month

Text

Chapter 3: Stalker [M]

Summary: “A manwhore and a junkie… it’s a match made in heaven.”

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: High School au, angst

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: 18+, substance use disorder/drug addiction, PTSD, child abuse, sexual content (not explicit), additional warnings might be added as story progresses.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update, my motivation has just been so bad because of uni. And now with exams coming up, I can't really promise anything, but after my exams are over I'll definitely be more active!

“God, I want you to absolutely wreck me.”

The bedroom suddenly quieted, its dim lighting beginning to wrap around the walls and furniture of the room to form an uncomfortably suffocating atmosphere. Or maybe Jimin was just projecting his own deteriorating feelings onto the innocent space. He was well aware that his mind shouldn’t have latched onto the words of the innocent woman he currently had pinned to his bed, shouldn’t have started picturing her wishes in his head, yet he couldn’t stop it. He’s never been able to stop it. But that didn’t stop him from trying every time.

The more he envisioned the actions, the more he could feel those familiar ghostly hands crawl up his spine. His mind grasped at something, anything else to focus on.

In his desperation, his unsteady gaze dropped to the girl beneath him. She was the epitome of conventionally attractive, with long, light brown hair sprawled around his mattress and dainty facial features. Modelling agencies would probably die for this girl if she gave them a chance.

But at the moment she was just a distraction. Or at least she had been, until she had opened her mouth.

The logical part of him tried to remind himself that her words were just that: words. She was just a horny girl expressing her preferences. It made sense, considering what they were about to do. And if anything, Jimin appreciated it when women told him what they wanted. It made his life a lot easier.

But those particular wishes churned uneasily in his stomach as he felt the hands continue to travel up his spine, finding a cosy spot on his neck. His heartbeat, which had been racing for an entirely different reason, now thumped painfully in his chest as it quickened in pace.

This can’t be happening right now, he thought with a mixture of frustration and desperation.

Jimin pushed the impending, but familiar, feeling aside, choosing instead to focus on Emily.

That had clearly been a mistake.

“Like, tie me down. Choke me. Use me like a freaking slut. I swear I haven’t been railed in weeks,” she continued while running her fingers through his hair, completely oblivious to Jimin’s deteriorating state.

The feelings he had shoved aside pounded against his poorly constructed dam, fueled by the implications of Emily’s words. He could feel the ghostly hands press harder against his neck, labouring his breathing in the process. It was a telltale sign of the panic that had become so familiar to him. He knew now that there was no escaping this episode, no matter how hard he tried to steady his breathing and calm his nerves.

What he needed to do was get out of here.

“Those are a lot of demands to cover in one morning,” he said with a forced chuckle, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he felt, “give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Before Emily could protest, Jimin slipped off the bed and half stumbled into his bathroom, just barely managing to lock the door.

And just like that, the dam broke.

Jimin collapsed onto the tiled floor, desperately trying to get some air into his lungs as memories started to flood his mind. They flashed before him like a montage, nightmare after nightmare stealing his ability to breath. At first, he was back in his childhood home, watching his father push his mother down a flight of stairs while screaming at her like a madman. Jimin could feel his heart racing in his chest as he wondered if she was dead.

But before he could run to her, his memories moved onto the day his father found out his wife had left. Jimin hadn’t even registered the fact that he’d never see his mother again before his father was on him, shouting at him while his hands enclosed around his neck harder.

Then he was in his old bedroom, watching the bat in his hands crash into his father’s head as he heard a feminine scream. There was blood everywhere, in the room, on his hands. He tried to wipe it off frantically as it burned his skin, but it didn’t matter. The more he wiped off, the more it spread up his arms.

All he could do was sit helplessly on the floor of the bathroom, head between his knees, as he shook uncontrollably and gasped for air. But the air wouldn’t come. It was like the ghostly hands had finally succeeded in crushing his windpipe and he could no longer fill his lungs.

Jimin lurched forward suddenly, feeling his heart hammer painfully in his chest. He swore this time was different.

He swore this time he was going to die.

His hand slapped desperately against the counter before it made contact with smooth metal. Relieved, his fingers wrapped around it, pulling it upwards until he could hear the faint sounds of water rushing out of the faucet. He tried to aim his attention to the sound of the water spewing out of the tap, listening intently to the way it sputtered out of the circular piece of metal. Then he focused on the water splashing against the smooth marble sink, running against it momentarily before it was swallowed up by the drain. He could hear the water crash against the pipes under his sink as they whisked the water away.

It took him what felt like hours to really focus on the sound, letting it sooth him as much as it could. Jimin imagined his memories and panic seeping down the drain alongside it, the black plastic pipes guiding them far away from himself and his house. His breathing started getting a little easier with every passing moment as the memories of his father began to seep back into the locked portion of his mind.

With small pockets of air now able to enter his lungs, Jimin managed to bring his hand down to the floor. He dragged two of his fingers against it in circles, focusing on the cold of the tile seeping into his fingertips and the rough line of grout between them. He inhaled as his finger met one half of the circle, stalling there for a moment, before exhaling as he completed the round.

When Jimin finally felt himself calm, only the remnants of a few mild tremors left, he let his back drop against the glass side of his walk-in shower with a sigh. A lingering soreness was spreading throughout his chest as he felt his sweat-soaked shirt stick to his back. Although he was more than familiar with episodes like these, he couldn’t help but wonder why this one had been so particularly bad.

Either way, the “attack” had left him exhausted, to the point that Jimin almost considered skipping school today. It was especially tempting, considering how much Taehyung had been bothering him recently about the therapy and whether it was working. Jimin had to remind him that he had only gone to one session, though he didn’t mention just how much he had hated it.

But Jimin knew that there were a few concepts he needed to clarify in his first class, so ditching school was out of the question.

Not to mention, Jimin’s second period had gotten a lot more interesting when the school had decided to transfer him to a different class because of a few scheduling issues. Particularly your presence had intrigued him, because he was so confused as to how he’d never noticed you before. Sure, Jimin had only been attending this school for the past two years, but he still found it hard to believe that the two of you had never crossed paths. He’d have definitely remembered if that were the case. You were, without a doubt, the most attractive woman he’d ever met, there was no way he would have overlooked a face like that.

Jimin stretched forward, just barely managing to close the faucet without having to get up from his position on the floor. You were fun to tease, and definitely something during sex. Jimin didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed sex as much as he had with you.

His gaze dropped as he remembered the bottle that had been clutched in your hand that night at Taehyung’s house. It had been a shock to him that you were using, even though technically he was well aware he didn’t know you at all. He wondered if your addiction stopped at Adderall, or did you do more than just that? He hoped you didn’t, for your sake.

Jimin had wanted to say something about it when he had dropped you off, encourage you to choose a different path for yourself. But he couldn’t seem to find the right words. He had used them all up when his father was still alive, none of which were successful of course. So instead he had walked away, guilt nibbling away at him with every step.

“Jimin?”

Jimin’s head snapped towards the door as Emily’s muffled voice passed through it. He had practically forgotten that she was still there, too wrapped up in his panic and then his thoughts to remember that she’d probably been waiting for him to come back to his bed. He knew he couldn’t do it. She clearly wanted things that he just couldn’t give her. The prospect of having to explain some lousy excuse to her suddenly made him exhausted all over again.

But thankfully Emily spoke up again before he could reply, “look, my first class starts soon and I can’t miss it. I guess we’ll have to do this another time.”

He could hear the disappointment in her tone before he listened to the sound of her footsteps as she walked out of his bedroom, followed by the sound of his front door shutting quickly. When he was sure she was gone, he stood from his spot and made his way to his bedroom, picking up his phone to confirm the time. Emily wasn’t wrong, his first class was starting soon. He would have to get going as well.

Jimin walked back to his bathroom, standing in front of the mirror above the sink. His gaze scanned the damp, rust-coloured hair sticking to his forehead, and then the beads of sweat travelling down his neck. He grimaced. First, he needed a shower.

Jiwoo was in a mood.

You had begun to suspect as much at the end of your first class, when she had kicked your bag while stomping out of the classroom. Although Jiwoo was always pulling stunts like that, she’d usually accompany it with an irritating taunt or mocking expression. But it wasn’t until right before second period, when she had purposely bumped into the open pencil case on your desk to scatter it all over the floor, when you became certain.

Jiwoo was in a mood.

You watched her drop into her seat near the front of the class with an angry huff, uncharacteristically not even bothering to spare you a fake “oops.” Normal Jiwoo was far from a saint, but god did annoyed Jiwoo unlock a different type of rage in you. Her irritation made you wonder how her parents’ divorce was going. Probably not great, if her mood today was anything to go on.

With an annoyed sigh, you slipped off your chair and lowered yourself to the floor to focus on collecting your things, trying to calm your raging heartbeat and shaking hands in the process. You weren’t sure whether it was because of Jiwoo or the Ritalin. This was your third day on Ritalin even though you had vowed to never take the stuff again. You didn’t really have much of a choice. There was still no news on Yoongi, which meant you were still out of Adderall. And although Ritalin made you crazy with nerves, it still somehow managed to help you focus on your schoolwork. Not to mention you’d much rather be a jittery mess than the dead zombie that your Adderall crash had reduced you to.

Unfortunately, until you could get your hands on some Adderall, Ritalin was your only option.

You shoved the last of your supplies into your pencil case, brows furrowing when you noticed that you were missing your eraser. But one scan of the floor showed no sign of the white rubber.

You checked under your desk and then your chair, wondering where it could have disappeared to.

It wasn’t until a pair of black dress shoes and grey dress pants appeared in your line of sight when you realised where your eraser had gone.

“Looking for something?” Jimin asked in a teasing tone, holding out your white eraser between the tips of his index and middle fingers.

Your gaze reluctantly travelled up to his smug face, the feeling of annoyance a natural response to his presence at this point.

“Stealing my car wasn’t enough? Now you want my eraser too?”

Jimin’s head tilted for a moment before he rested a hand on your desk and leaned forward so that his next words could only be heard by you.

“Why would I want anything more when I’ve already got you on your knees for me, kitten?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the tempting view of his sharp jawline, before grabbing your pencil case and pushing yourself off of the ground. Leave it to Jimin to turn every instance into an opportunity to flirt.

“Weren’t you the one that said I had to ask for sex the next time I wanted it? What happened to that?” You asked with a low voice before taking back your eraser.

“I never said I couldn’t be tempting.”

Then, to your surprise, Jimin dropped into the empty desk beside yours instead of his usual seat behind you. It took you a second to register the sudden change, and then another to eye him weirdly.

But before you could ask him what he was doing, Mr. Kim walked into the classroom just as the bell rang. The students rushed to their seats to bring out their textbooks, some of the girls swooning over the alleged new shirt he was wearing. You took your seat quickly, sending Jimin a glare in the process.

Taehyung hurried into the room just after Mr. Kim, slipping unnoticeably past him before dropping into his usual seat. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment when he noticed Jimin wasn’t sitting next to him, and then they furrowed even further when he realised where he was actually sitting.

“Come on man, what happened to bros before hoes?” He muttered under his breath. You almost laughed at his sulky expression.

Mr. Kim began writing the lesson on the whiteboard, “please turn to page 245.”

You turned to the page alongside the rest of the class as Jimin did the same, distantly noticing your leg bouncing up and down unconsciously.

Mr. Kim turned back to the class, beginning the lesson by explaining the concepts on the page he had instructed everyone to turn to. He was one of the better teachers, so you were easily able to understand the seemingly complex concepts.

That was until Jimin started annoying you, just like he had been doing in class for the past few days. It was always small things, like sneakily drawing random doodles in your notebook when you weren’t looking or stealing your pencil every so often. It took everything in you not to throw your eraser at his face. Instead, you dragged your notebook and supplies to the other side of your desk with a huff.

That just made him laugh, one he had to muffle with his hands so Mr. Kim didn’t call him out.

The class went on like this, a mixture of evading Jimin’s antics while simultaneously trying to understand the lesson being taught by Mr. Kim. You honestly had to applaud the guy for being able to escape Mr. Kim’s gaze for so long. He was notoriously known for being an observant teacher, and because of that you were sure he knew a lot more student secrets than he let on.

However, Jimin’s antics had to come to an abrupt end when Mr. Kim placed his whiteboard marker down and faced the class, seemingly finished with teaching the lesson. He called up two students, handing them both stacks of papers to hand out to the rest of the class.

“Your next assignment will consist of a presentation closely resembling a seminar, where each group will be expected to accurately teach the class on an assigned topic,” he explained, characteristically professional and thoughtful with his words, “since the goal of this assignment will be to facilitate understanding, I will be expecting the incorporation of some creative elements in order to keep the presentation engaging in addition to being informative.”

One of the students that had been handing out the mini booklets finally reached you and Jimin, handing the two of you one each before moving onto Taehyung.

“The booklets in front of you go over the details pertaining to this assignment. Therefore, I expect you all to read through them thoroughly to avoid losing marks over small mistakes.”

Mr. Kim suddenly smiled, “although, with this being your senior year I doubt you all require such a reminder anyway.”

You watched Jiwoo’s hand shoot into the air as you tried to keep Jimin’s hands off your booklet. Mr. Kim nodded towards her before she spoke, “will we get to choose our own groups?”

“No, I will be assigning the groups, as well as the topics,” he replied, earning him a number of whines and groans. But Mr. Kim merely chuckled, amused, but not willing to change his mind.

He then turned to the first row of students, grouping them in pairs based on their seating. You groaned inwardly when you realised the pattern he was going by and who, in that case, would end up being your partner.

“Jimin and Y/N,” Mr. Kim grouped, but then paused when he noticed Taehyung sitting without the deskmate, “and Taehyung.”

“Mr. Kim,” Jiwoo said once again, but this time you rolled your eyes knowing what she was going to bring up, “isn’t it unfair that one group has three students? That will lessen their workload compared to everyone else!”

You noticed Jiwoo send you a mocking smile for a moment, clearly trying to incite you.

Witch.

“You may rest assured, Ms. Kim. I will ensure everything is as fair as possible,” he reassured with a small smile. But Jiwoo just slid down in her seat, annoyed that her plan to make your life harder had pretty much failed.

You wished she turned around so you could send her your fakest smile. On one hand was Jiwoo, the most annoying witch in existence, and then on another hand was Jimin, the most annoying jerk in existence.

What has your life come to?

When the bell finally rang and Mr. Kim dismissed the class, you crumpled one of your rough pieces of paper and threw it at Jimin’s face with a glare.

It wasn’t much, but boy did it make you feel better.

“What was that for?” He asked, failing miserably at stifling a laugh.

“You know what.”

Ignoring Jimin’s amused glance, you packed your bag as your classmates began to chat with each other and started making their way to the cafeteria. You wouldn’t be heading there, though, since you usually spent your breaks in the library studying. It just felt better to get all your work out of the way so you could go home and just sleep for hours.

You walked out of the classroom, thankful that you could finally get away from the annoying thing known as Park Jimin, and then began walking to the library. The hallways were full of students relaxing and playing around with each other, making you think of Namjoon. He was away on some trip for a maths competition. Or maybe it was for a science competition? Either way, he was off doing his nerd stuff, so you couldn’t invite him to hang out after you finished studying.

You made it to the library’s front desk, sending a smile to the main librarian who returned it sweetly.

“Hello, have the study room schedules been made yet?” You asked.

She answered your question with a nod and, after giving her your name, she began searching the computer for your schedule.

Since the demand for the very limited number of study rooms in the library was so high, the school had decided to come up with a schedule system for the students that wished to use them, because a first come, first serve approach would be much too “barbaric” for a private school of course. Each student was given a schedule for which study room they were assigned to and when they could use it.

“Hi, can I get my study schedule please?” A voice asked, “my name is Park Jimin.”

Your gaze snapped to your side, finding Jimin standing right next to you.

Seriously?

“So you’ve resorted to stalking me now?” You asked, causing Jimin to turn to you with a surprised expression.

When his gaze fell on you, he grinned.

“How come I’m the stalker? You could very well be the one stalking me,” he said.

Before you could reply, the librarian walked back to her desk and handed you and Jimin your printed schedules. The two of you thanked her before walking over to the library’s elevator while looking them over.

Thankfully, you were scheduled for a study room on Wednesdays during break, so you didn’t have to find somewhere else to study at the moment.

You eyed Jimin when he followed you into the elevator, watching as he pressed the button to the floor you were also going to. The two of you seemed to be finding yourselves in each other’s presence a lot lately. It made you groan inwardly, knowing that the semester had only just begun.

It was like having a second Jiwoo since you and her were usually thrown together a lot due to your familial ties, but at least Jimin didn’t kick your bag or slap your pencil case to the ground. That earned him at least a few more points in your book.

The book’s name? “The Most Annoying People in Kim Y/N’s Life,” of course.

The elevator door dinged as it revealed the hallway of the second floor. Jimin walked out of it first, unfortunately taking a right into the hallway, which was the same way you were going.

You followed him reluctantly.

“Who’s following who now, kitten?” He said with a smirk, an eyebrow raised at you.

You simply huffed, “shut up.”

You didn’t bother to come up with a better comeback. All you had to do was make it to your study room, then you could finally get rid of him. This day had been filled with way too much Jimin, and you were actually looking forward to doing homework in a nice and quiet room over having to deal with his annoying butt.

Jimin continued through the hallway until he stopped in front of the door to the farthest study room from the elevator. The action made your eyes widen.

“No,” you denied immediately, stomping over to him before grabbing his schedule from his hand, “no way. There’s no way.”

Your mouth fell open as you took in his schedule, almost exactly identical to your own. The only day in which your and Jimin’s schedules didn’t align was Monday. Only one out of the five days of school in a week would you be free of him. No way. There was no way this was possible. Of all the insane things…

While you were distracted, a confused Jimin took your own schedule from your hands, looking over it curiously. It only took him a second to figure out what your issue was, but when he did, he couldn’t help himself.

Jimin burst into a fit of laughter.

“Stop laughing, this isn’t funny,” you whined, smacking the paper against his head. That only made him laugh harder as he fell to the floor with a hand clutching his stomach.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other now,” Jimin managed through his laughter.

You rolled your eyes, choosing instead to walk past him into the room. Fine, if you were going to be stuck with him, then you were just going to have to ignore his presence completely. It was the only ray of hope in your seemingly continuous misery.

You dropped into a seat at the large table, spreading your work out as you opened your laptop and began typing furiously against the innocent keys.

After a few minutes Jimin walked into the room, closing it behind him before he thankfully dropped into a chair away from yours and brought out his own work. You risked a glance upwards, catching a smirk on his lips that made your blood boil.

Your eyes stayed glued to your screen after that.

You expected him to annoy you the same way he had during your second period class by stealing your pencils or throwing a paper plane at you, but instead he remained focused on his work for a full half an hour straight. That came as a surprise to you because you honestly hadn’t been expecting him to be very studious. Maybe it was because he had annoyed you during class. Or maybe it was because you had unintentionally believed in the stereotype against guys that slept around. Either way, it was surprising when you managed to get through half an hour worth of work without any disturbances.

After half an hour, though, Jimin sighed, leaning back in his chair as he stretched his arms behind him. He’d taken off his blazer, so you could see the defined lines of his muscles stretch under his dress shirt. Your straying gaze quickly shot back to your screen, but not before Jimin had noticed your curious eyes. He smirked.

You were able to work for a few more minutes before Jimin suddenly leaned forward, eyeing you curiously.

“So,” he said, causing you to turn your head towards him questionably, “how did your dad end up reacting?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “what?”

“After the party, when you came home after midnight. I’m surprised he wasn’t already standing on the porch with a shotgun ready.”

You snorted, unable to imagine your dad doing that, “my dad’s not like that.”

“Oh, so he was cool with it and everything?” He asked.

You shifted in your seat, “no… I mean, I don’t know. He wasn’t home that night.”

Jimin nodded, “business trip?”

“Kind of. He’s a truck driver,” you explained, a little weirded out by the suddenly normal conversation but still appreciating the unexpected break from your work, “he’s usually only home on weekends. Otherwise he’s out driving across the country.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, “so he leaves you alone during the entire week? And sometimes he doesn’t even come back on the weekends?”

You shrugged, finding it odd how surprised Jimin looked, “yeah? I’m not a kid, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Jimin’s gaze dropped to the table in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. But you noticed a slight scowl in his features.

Weird.

You shifted to face Jimin, a question coming to mind, “but why are you only asking about my dad?”

Jimin didn’t look up from the table, “I heard what that girl said about your mom last Friday… I just kind of assumed…”

The room quieted into what felt like an awkward silence. You had the feeling that something you said had cut the surprisingly normal conversation short, but there was nothing you said that could have offended him so you didn’t really understand why that was.

You turned back to your work, brushing against the touchpad to light up your laptop’s screen once again. After sending one final curious glance at Jimin, you went back to your work.

But Jimin was clearly lost in thought.

The first thing Jimin noticed when he walked into the room was Lauren, who was sitting on one of the beige sofas situated next to the glass coffee table. She had been looking down at the binder she had shown him in their last session, reading over something intently before the sound of the door opening had her looking upwards and then smiling.

“Hello Jimin,” she greeted, to which he gave her a curt nod.

Thankfully, Lauren had already situated herself on the sofa facing away from the door, allowing Jimin to sit on the one that gave him a view of both the entrance and the window at the same time. Even in his sour mood, he was able to appreciate the gesture.

He knew Lauren was studying him, taking in his sudden attitude, but to his surprise she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she closed the binder and placed it beside her on the sofa, bringing a much thinner notebook onto her lap in its place.

“Did you complete the Impact Statement worksheet I assigned in the last session?” She asked, to which Jimin nodded.

He had avoided starting it until the last minute, something he knew Lauren wouldn’t approve of considering she had given him that big speech about avoidance and how it wasn’t helping him. He just couldn’t help it, he’d spent years trying to rid his mind of that night’s memories. Anything that reminded him of it was discarded, any person that reminded him of it was avoided. Even the house had been sold the second it was passed down to him. So doing this Impact Statement? Something that would not only remind him about it, but make him think about it to a deeper extent… it had been hard.

“Could you read your Impact Statement out loud?”

Jimin’s eyebrows pulled together at the random request, confused as to why that was necessary. He wasn’t in kindergarten anymore, where they would make his class take turns reading various children’s books to each other.

He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the request. But he couldn’t make a fuss about it. He needed to give this therapy thing a genuine try, especially considering the enormous attack he had this morning.

Jimin brought out the statement from his school bag, unfolding it slowly. He cleared his throat before finally following along the hastily written words.

“This traumatic experience happened because I was stupid and did something horrible. I knew that my father wasn’t himself, I knew that he was under the influence, and yet I still ended up murdering him, my own father, like some kind of psychopath. Saying that that makes me a horrible person feels like an understatement, because being a killer is one thing, but being able to kill your family? That must make me even worse than a murderer. I feel like I don’t deserve anything good because of it. If anything, the world should bring me my karma and just end it already. I think that sometimes… that because of what I did, someone is just silently watching me and waiting for the right moment to get back at me. I feel like I’m never safe, like I constantly have to be on guard whenever I’m out. I feel like people should think the same about me too, they shouldn’t trust me either. My past is evidence enough that I might just lose it and hurt someone. I would hate to do that to Taehyung especially, the only person that’s genuinely been there for me. But anyways, the gist of it is that I’m not a good person. I make bad decisions. I feel unsafe all the time, especially when I’m around other men. Sometimes when I’m out I can imagine every grown man that looks my way hates me the same way my dad did, and that they’d go after me the first chance they got. I don’t want to get close to people because I feel like if I build any kind of genuine relationship, I’ll end up hurting them. That’s why I don’t think Taehyung should have a friend like me, that he deserves better. I don’t know how to make things better. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal again.”

The room fell quiet as Jimin set the paper down on the coffee table, wanting it away from him immediately. He was relieved that he was finally done with this assignment, though he hadn’t noticed how much he had ended up writing despite the limited amount of time he had to complete the worksheet.

“What did it feel like to write and then read the Impact Statement aloud?” Lauren asked, an expression of complete neutrality. He couldn’t help but feel grateful that she wasn’t disgusted by him.

Or at least she wasn’t showing it.

“It was hard,” Jimin admitted, gaze travelling everywhere but her, “honestly I didn’t start the worksheet until just an hour before I came here.”

Lauren surprisingly nodded, “the good thing is that you completed it nonetheless. It is difficult work, Jimin, and you were able to get through it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“But I should remind you that avoidance only helps in maintaining PTSD symptoms, right?”

Jimin nodded.

“How do you feel after reading the Impact Statement?” She asked.

“A little less anxious,” Jimin replied, though it was more the fact that he was relieved it was over than anything else. Whether his improved feelings were because the Impact Statement had actually helped or because of the relief he felt from it being over, there was no doubt that he felt better now compared to the anxiety he had been feeling when walking into this room.

“If doing the assignment in this way made you a little less anxious, then I wonder what it would have been like to have completed the assignment earlier in the week?” Lauren wondered out loud, but she didn’t dwell on it for long. She was clearly keen on changing the topic.

“Now, earlier it seemed that you might have been upset about something. Could you explain to me why that was?”

“It’s nothing,” Jimin said, shaking his head as he leaned back against the sofa. But he could feel his blood begin to boil once again, his thoughts from earlier apparently the flame. His anger simmered to the surface and, before he knew it, he was blurting everything out.

“It’s just… I was talking to this classmate of mine earlier today, just a normal conversation, and she told me something about her dad that kind of pissed me off.”

Lauren tilted her head, “can you tell me what she told you that made you so angry?”

Your words from earlier filled his mind once again, bringing the anger along with them. He had been furious throughout the rest of the school day, and all throughout the ride here, with your words and their implications repeating over and over in his head.

Jimin suddenly stood up and walked over to the window, his anger making him want to move around.

“The thing is, she’s actually this girl I hooked up with at a party last Friday,” he started to explain, not realising that he had begun pacing around, “I’d ended up taking her home that night because she didn’t really seem like she could get there on her own, so I just casually asked her about how her dad had reacted to her getting home so late. She started telling me about how her dad hadn’t been home that night because he’s a truck driver. In fact, she said that he usually wasn’t home at all throughout the week, and sometimes he didn’t even come back on the weekends that he’s supposed to.”

Jimin spun around towards Lauren, who had shifted so that she was still facing him, “can you believe that? What kind of father would leave their kid alone for weeks at a time? And does he even know what his own daughter has been doing in his absence? She uses, you know. I bet he has no clue.”

“But of course he doesn’t,” Jimin scoffed, “just one of the millions of examples of a grown man being absolutely useless and incompetent as a father.”

He turned to look outside once again, trying to focus on anything that could calm down his racing heart.

“Do you feel that way about your own father?” He heard Lauren ask from behind him.

“Obviously. He beat my mom, and then he beat me. That didn’t exactly make him father slash husband of the year. Nothing could justify his actions,” Jimin reasoned.

“Do you feel that your actions that night also can’t be justified?”

He paused, the question catching him off guard. Slowly, Jimin faced Lauren once again, “well yes, I’m not different from him. If anything I’m worse. He beat people. I murdered him.”

Lauren’s gaze bored into him in an almost unnerving way before she spoke, “‘murder.’ That’s a strong word.”

“It’s appropriate in this context.”

“From what you’ve told me, it seems like you killed your father after he had begun to hurt your girlfriend-”

“Ex,” Jimin said, his gaze not meeting hers, “ex girlfriend.”

“Ex girlfriend,” Lauren corrected, “your actions occurred in a very specific place and time, and under certain circumstances.”

“Yeah, but he still died. And I’m the one that killed him.”

“Yes, he died, and it seems, at least in part, because of your actions. Does that make you a murderer?”

“Yes,” Jimin answered straight away, not comprehending what was so hard to understand, “I took a bat to his head, and then he died. That’s murder. And that’s worse than anything he had ever done to me.”

“Really? You think it’s worse?” Lauren asked, her voice suddenly quieter. For the first time since these sessions started, Jimin thought he might have caught a little sadness in her expression. But the moment he caught it the expression disappeared, tucked back under that blanket of neutrality that he had become so used to. Distantly, he wondered if he had imagined it or not.

“On one hand, people were hurt. On the other hand, someone was killed. Obviously both situations aren’t good since people were hurt either way. But I killed him, he didn’t kill anyone.”

“It is true that the outcomes are different,” Lauren agreed, “but it’s the context that I wonder about.”

Jimin’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“Do you think what the intention was in those situations matters, regardless of the outcome?”

“No,” Jimin replied firmly, pulling back on the frustration in his tone,“in one case someone was killed. In another, no one was killed.”

Lauren paused for a moment, seemingly studying him with her characteristically neutral expression. When nothing was said for a few seconds, she clasped her fingers together before resting them over her lap professionally, “while it is true that your father died, and that your actions played a role in it, I think we might slightly disagree on the definition of the term ‘murder.’ It is apparent that his death has been a very difficult thing for you to accept, and that you are trying to make sense of that. From what you’ve told me, the sense that you appear to have made of his death is that you are a ‘murderer.’ I believe this is a good example of one of the stuck points that seem to have prevented you from recovering from this traumatic event. We’ll definitely be spending more time together on understanding your part in his death.”

Lauren then began to explain something about how important it was to be able to identify and label his emotions and thoughts, but Jimin’s thoughts were too stuck on her earlier words to pay any attention. He wondered about how intentions might or might not matter in the context of whether a death is considered a murder or not. When a person participates in an action that ends up with another person dead, he was pretty sure that classified the situation as a murder. He couldn’t really understand where the nuances existed in a situation like this.

But then again, Lauren’s suggestion hadn’t been too crazy of a thought either. If a person didn’t intend to kill the other, then would it still be considered a murder?

Had he intended to kill his father that night? Jimin wanted to say no and deny such a thing, because he really hadn’t wanted to do that. But he had taken a wooden baseball bat straight to his father’s skull, what other outcome had Jimin been expecting? Maybe intention did matter in general, but in Jimin’s case he concluded it made no difference.

“How do you feel about the death of your father?” Lauren asked randomly, catching Jimin’s straying attention. He had no clue what the context behind the question was since his thoughts had been elsewhere while she had been explaining it, which had caught him off guard.

“Um,” Jimin paused, having to think about it for a moment, “I know he did horrible things to me, like I’m aware his actions were wrong, but… a part of me felt a little saddened by his death. Maybe not because of losing him as a person, but losing him meant that I had lost the last of my family. It does make me feel sad when I think about it.”

Lauren nodded encouragingly, “and that is a completely natural reaction to have when you feel that you’ve lost something. It’s good to feel that sadness and let it run its course.”

Jimin let a breathy chuckle escape his lips, though there was no humour behind it, “feeling sad isn’t exactly something I enjoy- actually I prefer to avoid feeling anything at all. It’s just easier that way.”

Lauren crossed her leg over the other, continuing to focus on Jimin as she brought her clasped hand over her lap once again, “have you ever allowed yourself to feel sad?”

He shook his head, explaining that he’s always preferred avoiding anything and everything that had to do with intense feelings like that. Even the frustration he had shown earlier was a generally rare occurrence.

“Then if you’ve never allowed yourself to feel your emotions, how do you know that it would be easier not to feel them?”

Jimin was silent, processing the logic behind her words once again. He was starting to realise that therapy was a lot more logical than what he had initially thought.

“From what you’ve told me, avoiding your feelings hasn’t helped you very much so far. Maybe allowing yourself to feel the natural feelings associated with the traumatic event may help you recover from what happened?”

“Maybe…” He relented, knowing that her reasoning made sense to him.

But Jimin still couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of feeling his emotions. He didn’t even know if he’d ever truly felt them before. With a father that had been beating him for as long as he could remember, it really had just become easier to numb himself to the pain. He was scared of revisiting that pain, he realised. The pain that he’d been trying to run away from his whole life.

Lauren opened her binder to bring out a few sheets that were similar to the Impact Statement worksheet she had given him in their last session, except they clearly had a different purpose. She called them “A-B-C” Sheets, which again reminded Jimin of kindergarten, and explained how to go about completing them properly. She also explained how they were meant to help him begin to identify the things he was telling himself and his subsequent emotions before they had exchanged pleasantries and Jimin had walked out of the room.

Unlike the last session, where he had rushed through the door at light speed, Jimin took his time walking through the hallways and out of the building. This time his mind was filled with questions of murder and intention. He thought about feeling his feelings, and how long it had been since he had lost the ability to do so. He thought about you and your dad. He thought about everything.

There was just so much to think about.

So much to think about indeed.

39 notes · View notes

xoxiu · 11 months

Text

autumn outside the post office - jin x reader

chapter four table of contents masterlist join the taglist

≪ how long will beautiful things last? ≫

summary: it wasn't your fault that dr. kim was the most beautiful man you've ever seen. falling for him was entirely your fault, however. first semester at college and you're already dreaming of a student/professor relationship- so naughty and against the code of conduct. you like the thrill, though.

tags/warnings: smut, teacher!jin, college au, cute yet forbidden romance, daddy dom!jin, love triangles, frat boys jungkook and taehyung, age regression, age play, ddlg, spanking, eating disorders, mental health, first love, exhibitionism, lots of blowjobs, age gap

taglist: @severecatsheep

"Today we're going to be starting our first novel, Our Twisted Hero."

For once, you stared outside the window during literature class, looking at something other than Dr. Kim. You felt too guilty, uncomfortable, and dirty after what you did. He was your professor, and you kissed him.

And you liked it.

What made it all worse is that you wanted more. You wanted to be absolutely destroyed by this man, and then lovingly cuddled immediately after. You wanted him, nothing but him, and all of him.

"y/n?" A voice called out your name- it was Dr. Kim. You snapped out of your thoughts and turned your focus back on the class. Seokjin smiled as you did so.

"Thank you for rejoining us." You blushed out of embarrassment- you had been caught daydreaming.

The class continued with no other distractions. Still, you were in a dazed high from yesterday. Nothing felt real as you jotted down assignments in your planner. Just like that, you were distracted again. Little hearts covered the empty spaces of your planner as you mindlessly doodled on.

"y/n!" Dr. Kim scolded this time, slamming a book against the desk. You jumped in your seat, sitting up straight and giving your full attention to the professor. A blush heated your face as everyone turned to look at you.

"Since some of us don't want to pay attention, class is over now. Remember to have up to page 20 read and your study guide done for Monday." He looked back at you, solely addressing you, "y/n, I'd like to speak with you for a moment."

You slowly began to pack up your backpack as students filed out of the classroom. Dr. Kim made his way to the back of the class towards you, his eyes burning holes into you. He smirked as you kept your head down, refusing to look up at him.

"You really can't keep me off your mind, can you?" He teased, putting a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His stare soon turned cold again, "Look at me when I'm speaking to you, hun."

"Yes, sir," you blushed at the pet name. Looking down, you noticed a growing bulge in Seokjin's slacks.

"My eyes are up here, y/n." He gripped your chin forcefully. "See something you like?"

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Seokjin released your face and reached behind you to close the blinds. The room grew significantly darker, especially in the back where a fluorescent light above you had burnt out. Wetting your lips, you couldn't keep your eyes off the professor as he leaned against the back wall.

"Knees, now."

Without hesitation, you kneeled on the floor, shuffling closer so you were closer to Dr. Kim. He smiled down at you, running a hand through your hair. You leaned into the touch and closed your eyes.

"Such a good girl, so obedient for Daddy." Seokjin tugged at your hair, forcing a small gasp out of you. Your panties grew wetter from his words. Not a single thought was running through your mind except for Dr. Kim.

The man chuckled above you. "I'm not sure if you deserve this after not paying attention in class. Or was this exactly what you were thinking of?" All you could do was let out a pitiful whine, looking back and forth between his bulge and his face.

"Hmm? What's that? Not as brave as you were yesterday, huh?"

Kissing him felt like nothing; you had kissed guys before this. However, not once were you so close to another person's private area, teetering on the edge of sex. It felt exciting, yet intimidating.

"I-I don't know..." You mumbled, feeling a lot more shy and exposed. You looked away towards the door, anxious that someone may come in. Seokjin seemed to pick up on your worries.

"No one has this room reserved for another hour, don't worry. It's just us." Another hand ran through your hair, gently stroking it and placing a stray strand behind your ear.

You weren't ready for this. It felt wrong. As your eyes darted around the room, you anxiously bounced on your legs. Leading the professor on like this was a horrible thing to do, and for what? All you had was a little crush and now look at you, kneeling in front of your teacher with soaked panties as he palmed his hard-on.

"Maybe you're not ready for this cock, is that it?" You nodded your head, embarrassed tears glazing over your eyes. Your hands came up to cover your face from any more embarrassment or shame.

Seokjin picked you up and placed you on the table next to your bag. You moved your hands away from your face, allowing him to deeply kiss you. Kissing him felt so easy, and when he tugged gently on your bottom lip, you went crazy. Your hands wrapped around his broad shoulders, pulling him deeper. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and your eyes shot wide open. You pulled away from the kiss, not liking the feeling.

"What's wrong?" Dr. Kim asked, his face full of concern. Biting your lip, you stared at his beautiful, full lips, now tinted red.

"I don't like tongue," You felt ashamed to admit, "Sensory thing..."

He giggled at your bashfulness, placing a gentle peck on your lips.

"I'll try to remember that."

————

The Korean Cultural meeting took place in the library. You decided to skip your meeting at the last minute, deeming it pointless. Classes had been going well, better than well in fact, so you saw no point in attending.

As you approached, Dr. Kim sent you a smile. He pulled out an empty chair for you right next to him. All eyes were now on you. You tensed up as you took a seat, looking around the table with a wavering smile.

Jimin and Taehyung sat across from you, hyping up your arrival. 'There she is!' 'The party can start now!' 'As beautiful as ever!' You blushed at their cheers, desperately wanting them to just shut up. They were so nice and friendly, maybe a bit too much, but it always made you smile.

There were many people you didn't know. They stared at you with confusion, questioning who you were and why Jimin and Taehyung acted so excited to see you. At the end of the table sat Cara with another boy. She was all over him, her legs over his lap and arms embracing his neck, basically sitting on his lap. The boy looked mighty uncomfortable and tired until his eyes landed on you. He looked you up and down, smirking.

You couldn't help but notice his shirt with 'TKE' on it in giant letters. Oh, he was in Tau Kappa Epsilon with Taehyung. Upperclassmen had warned you about them, and how they were the unruly frat house constantly on the verge of being suspended from Greek life. Taehyung made you believe the rumors were all exaggerated lies, but one look at the boy across the table only confirmed the stereotypes. He looked like trouble.

By the time the meeting start time came around, roughly 16 students were in attendance. Once the table capacity was reached, Seokjin gave up his seat next to you, opting to stand between the tables the club was using. There was another professor you didn't recognize who lead the meeting, with Dr. Kim commenting every once in a while.

You felt eyes on you at all times. From the boy at your table to Dr. Kim, you knew you were being watched. You tried your best to ignore it, listening to the speaker, but you couldn't help but take quick glances.

The boy looked you over as if examining you closely. He looked impressed by you, making you feel small under his gaze. His eyes watched your every move, focusing a bit too much on your chest area, as if you were a theatre act. He didn't want to miss a moment of you.

Dr. Kim's eyes were softer, more welcoming. He looked almost proud of you for showing up tonight, thankful that you came. You didn't miss his wink as your eyes met, making you blush and quickly look away.

The meeting concluded sooner than you thought- only lasting a solid 15 minutes. A packet was passed out to everyone, detailing upcoming meetings, events, and a study abroad trip to Korea.

Led by Mr. Kim.

You were the last one remaining at the meeting, logging the meetings and events into your planner. A hand on your shoulder made you jump- you swore you were alone.

"Thank you for coming tonight," Dr. Kim looked down at you with a smile. Smiling back, you closed your planner, giving Seokjin your whole attention.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said, looking genuinely remorseful.

"It's okay, you didn't know."

Seokjin checked the time on his watch. "I think the buses stopped for the day by now. Shall I drive you home?"

Flustered, you stammered out gibberish. You knew the buses hadn't stopped their routes yet, not until 10 pm. Dr. Kim was lying to you, trying to persuade you into getting into his car. Hesitation flooded your thoughts. You knew that if you got in his car, this relationship would cross the boundaries of a professional relationship. Leaving campus with a teacher was a major red flag. There would be no going back.

"Sure."

#bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #teacher/student #bts smut #college au #kim namjoon #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #autumn outside the post office

66 notes · View notes

zzzzzestforlife · 5 months

Text

this semester can kiss my ass goodbye

#studyblr #bumpy #i hate it here #finals season #finals week #bts #bts army #vmin #kim taehyung #park jimin #studying #student life #university life #university student #ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #i can't live like this #end me now #university

23 notes · View notes

mochilatae · 21 days

Text

Listen (Taehyung x Reader)

Word Count: 8.9kish

Pairing: Taehyung x Y/n

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Dirty talk, voice kink, shyness/nervousness, flirting, stalking behavior, mild obsession/fixation, fingering, kissing, sucking, orgasms (yours), squirting (light), body fluid kink, masturbation, rubbing, questionable ethical stuff (Tae using the school directory to snoop), implied rule breaking (dorm visitor hours violation, etc), sucking, biting, college student encounter, multiple orgasms, swearing, finger sucking, body fluid ingestion (he licks you off his skin). I'm sure I forgot some.

Genre: PWP, Strangers to Lovers

AUs: College BTS

Summary: Everyone has kinks. You stumble upon your own when a sound takes over your thoughts and desires. A plan to discover more about it goes further, faster than you expect.

Author’s Note: This one took a while to edit and rewrite (here and there), but thank you for reading it!

If you liked it, feel free to leave a comment telling me! Reblogging is appreciated but never required.

Tag List: @kiestrokes

Have you ever been attracted to someone’s voice?

If you’d been approached with that question, the answer would have been ‘No’. …Until this year.

Until exactly a month and a half ago, at the start of this term.

Auralism. You’d learned the meaning only recently.

Tonight your finger followed the printed text along the page until you found the word and carefully traced each letter with a pointer fingertip. Every curve and swoop of the ink, your belly fluttered.

To think: this sudden feeling inside you from a sound–one coming from another human being just doing the most basic kind of communication–could have an actual term to represent it. Something finally put to meaning the yawning pit that opened up inside you, at hearing a voice.

The tingle was in your chest again, then it moved south. You turned the page and scanned a block of words at the top, grateful for somewhere to put your focus and ignore the tension piling on. It had been with you from the moment your sneaker sole met the faded ruby carpet inside the library’s front hall.

While it hadn’t lessened over time, reading–or trying to–did the job to sink your fixation into something else, temporarily. Eventually a low chime from the intercom nearby broke your reverie. You glanced towards the sound.

Although it was expected you still held a breath. Soon enough came: The voice, buttery and deep, with the hint of a smile. The tone, always calm, regardless of day or time.

‘Attention all patrons. The Pierce Library will be closing in 15 minutes. Please gather your belongings and bring any materials for checkout to the front desk.’

You could almost recite it by heart. Instead, you leaned back, eyes closed, to enjoy the last hints of the voice until the sound faded. You were always waiting for this moment. Chasing it, slipping away too quickly for as long as it took to arrive. THAT was what set fire to your senses.

Your smile grew, checking your phone to confirm. Right on the nose–exactly 15 minutes before those front doors would be closed and locked. That meant he’d soon come through.

What you’d heard just a moment ago wasn’t the usual recording and that was an even bigger bonus tonight. The barest pause between instructions wasn’t lost on you. Noting those little differences had such an impact in tonight.

It wasn’t just that you’d heard the same spiel enough. A lot was owed to the knowledge of employee routines and schedules. Spending enough time here made that a natural eventuality. Which really mattered for one person in particular: The owner of that voice.

The voice that nibbled at your self control from the first time you heard it. Nibbles became bites as the interest and curiosity grew, along with attraction. You carried a simmering heat almost constantly. There wasn’t a time you passed by the library now without feeling light headed or tight from the waist down.

Normally being so ‘into’ something wasn’t your way. Nothing got such a hook into your brain. That it was specific to a person, that had you waffling between shame and delight.

After a deep breath, you stole a look at that word again, then closed the book and stood. You felt a little impressed at how deep your research had gone–from first glance in a kitschy sex book to the present deep dive into the psychological aspects of this interest.

Book cover braced against your chest, you swung one hip against the chair back. The remaining lights in the library’s further stacks blinked off. Aisle by aisle at the blackness closed in, leaving the barest shape of book tops barely discernible in the dim light overhead.

Phone tucked into one pocket. And the book. Actually leaving with non-study material was a mood booster. Reading for pleasure proved to be something much rarer these days.

The walk to the circulation desk was quick enough and you stopped there at the opposite end of the Checkout sign faintly swinging when the library doors opened, then closed.

Laying the book on the counter, you glanced around. The heavy silence left plenty of room to notice so many minor things: the checkout computer screen, still aglow. An errant pen, sideways across into an open notebook, next to a nondescript textbook–thicker than anything you’d bought this term. Judging from the density it wasn’t a light read.

Did he own it? To be graced with a golden voice, AND a strong study ethic? An appetite for learning did things to you too. Whatever the word for attraction to intelligence was, you’d seen it once then promptly forgotten. In spite of that your suffering was doubled.

Facing forward didn’t prevent the light shock when a form appeared at the farthest of the counter and stepped behind it, then headed your way. The world narrowed as he got close. It was a good few inches of height difference. You kept focus on the book until he stopped right across from where you stood.

He met your rising stare with a smile. The big, beautiful kind. He barely tugged the shirt sleeves rolled to the inside of both elbows. Not a complete departure from the usual campus attire and enough to make him stand out. At least to YOU.

As he stood right here, you confirmed an earlier suspicion: he’d passed by before, pushing a cart of books and humming over the creaking wheels. The view of his retreating back had been as satisfying as seeing him approach now. A thin smile crested your lips. Even under the light here, his eyes held a curious glimmer. The angle of his head changed and his welcoming smile shrank a little.

He motioned, raising one dark brow. “Checking out or returning?”

This voice, so distant for weeks–only through speakers and on oft played recordings–was now directly in front of you and speaking to you. Several of your fingers curled the counter edge, clinging.

“Um..” A moment later, you managed to slide the book across the counter with a small push. His eyes went to the cover. “..Checking out.” After an extended study of the book, he shot you a look, grinning more.

Whomever this guy was, his existence proved the concept of perfect facial symmetry wasn’t just a hyped theory. Just keep checking those boxes, sir. It all kept getting better–a perfect voice. Perfect face. Brains. You couldn’t dare to imagine what else he was hiding that was on your list of ‘things’.

If any other students had queued up behind you, there was no chance you’d even notice. And who could blame you? Especially when he found your stare again. Your nails sank into the wood under the counter’s edge.

The man braced one elbow into the top and his lids dropped a little.

“What’s your name?”

“Me?” To think you’d drummed up scenarios with him asking this very question. It was fun to imagine him watching you too. From afar. Maybe not as sneaky, like you tried to be. But letting that possibility into your mind was almost enough to burn you up on the spot.

You took a breath, working hard to separate yourself from spiraling over this routine conversation. He probably did it hundreds of times a week so this wasn’t a thing for him. You were sure, even if it was moving your entire world right now.

Half turned away and waiting for a reply, his eyes narrowed on the monitor. He clicked around, then typed into a small pop up on the screen. Even the electric white glow complimented his features. But you almost couldn’t be surprised, even if your fevered, crush drunk mind might be exaggerating things. Without anyone around, it was okay to lean into the delulu a bit.

After enjoying the view, you drew a bracing breath. It was time to get a grip. Focus. Get through this. Shape up, girl. You came here enough, this had to happen eventually. You went looking and found him.

Now was not the time to mess things up. Wherever this ‘situation’ might end up.

You fumbled, patting your coat and jeans pockets and your belly dropped. No familiar shape of your student ID in any pocket. The air thinned and you coughed, throat tightening. The sound earned his side eyes and crooked one corner of his mouth.

“Name?” He asked, much quieter. There was a purr in his tone that rode your nerves and struck right between your thighs. Just like when you listened to those recordings. The oddest kind of Pavlovian response, and what a time to have it.

You were about as sturdy as a sand barrier under the rushing tide. What could come from full frontal exposure to something you’d been craving for weeks. It was enough of an ask that your legs not collapse. To hide a tremble, both hands dove in your pockets. Your shoulders started to rise.

“I don’t have my ID..” You had to sound nervous as hell. Not since first year speech class had you felt that heat at your collar, but it was here, now. Begging you to tug and vent the warmth bottle necking.

“I don’t need that. ..Just a name is fine.”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n..” His fingers moved over keys. The screen changed, washing his face in more neon hues.

“..Miss L/n?”

The man turned back, then opened the book. Inside the cover, he scanned the barcode, then stamped a due date. Next to it he wrote initials.

There was your chance with his head bowed. No time like the present. Couldn’t be too obvious. It didn’t prove easy, especially when a few more lights turned off nearby and more darkness closed in.

You leaned closer to ‘check’ the date, and noted the letter T. Much more than that was challenging in the upside down view. His handwriting wasn’t flawless but it was unique enough you couldn’t quite catch the second letter.

He wore no name tag–no student worker did. It wasn’t as if the night was long enough to stand here, squinting at lined paper and looking for an answer. Especially one solved by a direct question.

“--Um…what’s your name?”

Facing you again, he held out a receipt as he replied. “Tae.”

His muted shyness had you delighted.

“Tae..hmm..” You suddenly detected a note of lavender in the air. It had to be coming from Tae.

“Don’t think I’ve heard that name before.”

“Well, my name isn’t common.”

“..And your last name?” Not even rising nerves could stop you asking.

Hormones that had been dining on your self control from the moment you sat down continued, unabated. Nature’s greatest inspiration and owed all the thanks for bringing you here–day after day. Keeping you camping in a library chair or at a table, nourishing a quiet obsession. Working towards an eventuality that finally arrived tonight.

“No one usually asks me that.” Tae showed no offense or displeasure. If anything you read a pleasant surprise. The same couldn’t have been said about you if the same question had come from a stranger at a first meeting.

“Hope it’s not rude?” You asked, just to clear the tiniest nagging doubt.

“No.” Back was the shy smile that made your guts heavier. After a pause, he gazed at you, continuing.

“My last name is Kim.”

“I’ve heard that name around campus.” You admitted. Kim was a common enough last name. Was there a chance he’d know any of the other Kims walking around on this campus? None of the ones you’d seen bore a single passing resemblance to Tae.

NO ONE could look like him.

Tae smirked. “No relations, as far as I know.”

“Yeah?”

Tae nodded. “I’ve met a few of them–had some classes with one. Super smart guy. Probably the smartest I’ve ever met here.” As you watched, Tae picked at a few specks on his sweater. “I could use some of his intelligence, honestly.” He concluded.

You winced at his subtle self depreciation. You were prone to the same thing, so it was easy to understand, but you still didn’t like or believe it when Tae said it.

“That’s not light reading by any means.” You pointed to the nearby textbook you’d seen before Tae showed up.

He glanced at it, then offered a shrug. “It’s required course reading. I DO like to read, though.”

“Well…you’re working at the right place, then. Being a library employee does have perks.”

He nodded with a laugh that made you smile too. One thing stood out this close: the shape of his natural smile. Was so much more than just handsome. How many other girls saw it? Especially with that grin spread on his face during small talk, or when he went about his day on campus.

It wasn’t reasonable to assume you were the only one thinking about Tae, but that didn’t matter at this moment because he was talking to YOU. This indisputable fact had your head lighter.

“What is this book? I’ve never read it before..” As he asked, Tae pulled it closer and spun the book around. As he read the cover, one finger followed the words. But this digit was long and slender. You swallowed.

“Just something silly–”

“The Psychology of Human Sexuality.” He murmured, lifting one brow again. Fervently you prayed he didn’t open it randomly to ‘check things out’. Or even worse—discover the page you’d noted. And the post-it with your new favorite word written in flourishing letters.

Heartbeat thundering, you let go over the counter and fussed with your pockets again. Your throat had gone from being tight and pulsing to dry and hoarse as you spoke.

“Kind of recreational. Seemed interesting, compared to the usual required reading.” That was way more truth than anything else. No shame pressured you to lie. And anyway, you had a strong feeling Tae wasn’t the type to judge a choice.

His expression turned placid. Tae seemed to be assessing something, then nodded and glanced at the clock nearby and took a step back from the counter.

“I hope you enjoy it, then.”

After he turned away, you watched as he gathered his things–a black hoodie. Book bag. Finally he turned back to the computer, clicking and typing again. Eventually the screen went dark and he straightened.

That was your sign. Get while the getting is good. Proper conversation always went best when the participants knew the right time to leave.

“Thanks for checking this out to me” you murmured. It took a little bit before “It was nice meeting you..” followed.

“It’s my job..and I kinda like this whole checking out books thing.” Tae was back to being cutely shy and it really suited him. So did the cheeky smile that came with it,much to your delight. It was hard not to wonder how often he trotted this smile out with others.

For a few seconds Tae’s attention was on the exit.

“Have a good rest of your night, Y/n.” He finally murmured.

You preferred to keep your focus on him. Really nothing could tear it away at this point. There wasn’t much else in this plane of existence right now with Tae in front of you. A little over the top, but this was a literal dream come true.

“Thanks.” You took a few backward steps, then turned and headed for the doors. His next move would remain a mystery.

Your steps quickened and you were at the doors in second, then ducking through. Outside, you inhaled cool night air as you waited until your racing heart slowed just enough. It was like you hadn’t felt. Hadn’t realized. Just like so many other things in the orbit of Taehyung Kim.

The doors clicked as your foot left the last step. At that sound weight slid away.

‘Have a good rest of your night..’ Tae’s parting words weren’t much, but they left you floating.

The misty air of the evening was erased by a flush of desire as you hurried across the quad. In the distance the shape of your dorm became visible as you closed the distance, darting around planters and benches. It was so empty and quiet, but every step his words repeated again and again. So did the bolts of arousal, stabbing through your core.

You didn’t have the sense or nerve to say it then, but you thought it now. I will,Tae. All thanks to you.

————————————————————————

It wasn’t a far off assumption that the plan of your night would follow routine: you, belly down, on your bed and leafing through the pages of a magazine.

But that was before tonight, when fate saw fit to change things. Like in the library. Revelation was the knock on your door. Not exactly unusual, but you didn’t have many visitors, unlike other students here. And that was how you preferred it.

Routine flow stopped as you looked up, waiting for a beat.

This was a fairly large building on campus. It wasn’t odd to get someone knocking now and then, having come to the wrong floor in search of a friend. It was a weekly occurrence, and not one you were hard pressed to resolve right now. You could wait more. Maybe even long enough, whoever it was would go away.

The knocking at this hour was odd. Usually the ‘wrong room’ faux pas happen during daylight hours, or twilight at worst, but that detail was minor. No need to split hairs about it.

A double thump against the door, this one firmer, with a clear intention. Whomever this was, wrong or right, they probably would do another knock. And maybe even another. Soon it would draw attention. For how quiet it had to be in the hall outside, sound could carry MUCH further without the rabble of daily dorm life as a buffer.

Standing with a huff, you tugged on the first oversized sweatshirt within reach and headed for the door. Standing close to the dull painted wood, you aligned one eye to the peephole and squinted through the fisheye lens.

Not as much was clear, save for a mop of vaguely golden-brown hair and the barest outline of a long coat with broad shoulders. Distortion stretched the figure, adding height. Or it might be the panic in action—that never failed to warp your senses.

After you unlocked the door, you peeked into the open space. The tip of your nose preceded you, catching the musky hallway air.

“Who—”

Quickly you stopped as a pair of eyes met yours under a tangle of bangs. No confusion. No wrong room goofiness. No mistake to excuse this. Those were the very same eyes that gazed across the checkout desk.

Him.

Taehyung Kim. Smiling warmly enough to dispel the chill rising.

“Hi.” He held up a book, the cover facing out, then waved it. “Forget something?”

Your eyes went there, the hand on the door knob tightening as weakness crept up your legs. THAT was the nagging feeling. What you’d been trying to remember since coming through the door a while ago.

Whether you wanted to faint or hoped the ground would open up and pull you to the center of the earth, it was all the same. In seconds sweat dappled your spine. Your face got hotter as you met his question with a shrinking smile after sneaking another unnecessary peek at the cover.

That was your book in his hand, bobbing back and forth. Oh my god. You didn’t remember giving your address. Whatever rule he might have broken, he had access to the student system to get what he needed. That meant he’d made the conscious effort, then went further, coming across campus to find you.

At this late hour. After work. On a school night.

“Geez.” After you opened the door a bit more, Tae passed the book, then rested his empty hand on the door frame. He wasn’t imposing or inserting himself over the threshold. You could close the door, safe in the gut feeling that he wouldn’t stop you.

It was the next logical step with delivery complete, if that was his true purpose. And why wouldn’t it be? Tae wore such a relaxed grin and his lids sat lower. It was subtle, but there in the depths of his eyes: a flirt. Sweet and delightful, but charismatic too. A change from when he’d scanned your book at the checkout desk.

DO SOMETHING. The urgency roared through your mind. Soon thought became action when you raised the book and waved it like he'd done.

“Thanks.” Your lips vaguely shook, even curved in a smile. If Tae could tell, there was no sign in his generally neutral expression, after his smile melted away.

He squinted through the open door, past your form and without a trace of shyness. Tae wasn’t rushing the moment as he eyed the interior. There wasn’t much to see from where he stood. None of the dorm rooms were spacious enough to give everything away at the door. Your single bedside table lamp and string lights along the bookshelf didn’t bring further clarity. They barely provided ambiance.

“It’s kind of a pigsty at the moment.” You freely confessed. Suddenly you were sure this was too much stuff in too little a space, even if it hadn’t bothered you until this moment. Tae made you aware–of your body now, and everything else around you. Nothing like your complete obliviousness in the library.

Tae’s form lounged into the frame, filling the space nicely, testing your self control all too quickly. It wasn’t like he’d grown a few inches on the walk over, but he had more on you than first gleaned in the library.

“Hard to tell.” Tae’s brow rose, then he chuckled. You didn’t feel like laughing. Couldn’t, with your chest growing tight.

“Was there something else?” You managed. The book seemed heavier after you asked. Staying mute, Tae studied you this time before he stood upright again.

“Are you busy? I wouldn’t mind seeing inside here more. You say it’s a mess—that’s a relative term. I’ve had roommates that lived in a hoarder’s dream. I doubt your room is in that kind of shape.”

Rapidly your heartbeat climbed.

“S..sure.”

You stepped back, opening the door further. Tae came through. Maybe this was one of those REALLY vivid dreams. Feeling so real you’d swear on everything you were awake. The thing you wanted so much–him here, in your dorm room alone–was happening this very second. Apparently all the prayers you’d sent up finally paid off tonight.

Still, you squeaked in surprise as Tae rolled his shoulders and the coat slid to his forearms. Stripping himself of his outerwear proved his stature wasn’t all fashion illusion. Even in his remaining shirt and jeans, he looked impressively broad.

You turned back from locking the door to see Tae draping the coat over one forearm, then he began to scan.

“Where should I put this?”

You took the jacket and hung it on a nearby hook–the only one empty among the row of several already overburdened ones.

“This is fine..” You replied.

As you moved further into the room, Tae’s steps trailed. As you paused in the middle, between the bed and a small closet directly across from it, he stopped just at your right side. Silence that went on for a handful of seconds while you surveyed the space.

“Not as small as I expected for a single room.” Tae hummed in conclusion. Either he was being polite or optimistic, you couldn’t decide, but you had to appreciated it either way.

“I guess. I can’t complain. Makes it a lot easier without a roommate. Somehow those double rooms manage to feel smaller.”

“Yeah?” Tae stepped away, strolling to the foot of the bed. You went to the left side, attention anywhere but him.

Eventually you gazed out the window and followed the slow procession of a couple, meandering down the sidewalk below. You wouldn’t mind holding hands with Tae the way you saw those strangers entwining fingers, arms swinging lightly. Probably chatting quietly with each synchronized footstep.

On another day or in another time you might have had the balls to go for that, but right now was WAY too soon, even if you’d touched him more in your fantasies. Without any kind of hesitation. The idealized version of you lived under no phantom weight of insecurity or awkwardness.

“Mind if I sit here?” Tae motioned towards the bed. You nodded and he sank down, both hands limply resting on his thighs. Here you could really stew in the fact that his attention wasn’t diminishing in how good it made you feel. It was like he was returning the favor. Squaring things up evenly for all the attention you’d paid to him for so long.

Did Tae have the same twisting inside, holding your stare? It would be something else to sink so much time gazing into those eyes as you’d spent reading books. Even the one you’d forgotten tonight, that he’d kindly delivered. With the book, there was hope he’d indulge you in a different kind of education.

Settled enough, Tae continued. “The book. Why that one?”

At his reminder, you looked down at the book lightly trembling in your grasp. Instinctively you opened it to the post-it tagged page and the word, notated in bright blue ink.

“Just…curious.” You were telling some measure of truth. It was one of many reasons, but you chose to keep Tae ignorant enough beyond that for as long as you could. Some would call it risk minimization. Or self preservation.

“Yeah?” He braced one palm into the bed and the other hand he held out. It was quickly obvious that he wanted to see the book again. Without comment you passed it back. Not bothering to close it. Maybe Tae had opened this thing and already saw the post-it on his walk over.

“I’m guessing you don’t make it a habit to forget books you check out..” He skimmed one page, then turned a few before stopping to read a little.

Finally he reached the post-it page. You prayed and hoped he didn’t know the word, as much of a longshot as that might be. A snowball in hell had better chances.

As demonstrated earlier, Tae’s expression revealed no understanding or ignorance as he finally looked up.

“...---you usually post-it note the pages, or is that reserved for textbooks you buy?”

You brushed a strand of hair away from one temple. Not your best effort to be casual, even with a tepid shrug. It was more a nervous kick back than a graceful toss of the head that sent your hair back.

“Not that it’s important, really. …Is that a death worthy offense?”

“No..” Tae glanced over the page. Who knew exactly what he was reading in the blocks of text on both pages. “--Highlighting the pages, that’s the real disrespect.”

You’d never considered doing that to a book you owned and it was a cardinal sin in the world of library patronage. He went back to studying the page briefly, then carefully closed the book and laid it on the bed, within reach.

“Y/n.”

A deliberate pause after your name left his lips. Like he was waiting and it worked.

You fidgeted with your sleeve. “Yes?”

“Come sit with me? I want to talk a little.”

“Yeah?” About what, you couldn’t imagine, but there was hope deep underneath the shock fissuring your sanity.

He patted the neatly done bedspread and you shuffled closer, then lowered. This was your space and property, so why did you feel so immobilized? Tae’s instructions seemed to be some blessing. Some..permission you needed. You boggled.

“There..” As the bed sank subtly under your backside, Tae’s hand returned to his thigh and rested.

His tongue glided over both lips. Quick, but effective enough to make your thighs flex. Your hands, previously limp on your lap, went to your thighs, condensing into fists.

“That word.” He began. His pointer finger followed the neatly done embroidered pattern running the bedspread as it meandered closer. “..Does it mean something to you?”

“No. I was just curious about it.” The lying was harder than ever. Downplaying wasn’t your strong suit either.

“Hmmm.” He was quiet again.

“Have you ever heard of it?” You probed. It would send you into orbit to think Tae could know. That he understood the concept of kinks and had any. To find out he followed any newly found ones to a natural conclusion where they became part of his collection.

It was a lesson in fuck around and find out when Tae nodded.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Nails sank into your palm.Blood rushed to your temples from between your legs. Of course. As if it had always made sense–he wasn’t afraid to read. A job at a library usually didn’t suit a student without the tolerance or interest to learn. That always led to discovery and contemplation. A Yes was the more than likely result, but hearing it from Tae was something truly special.

“What do you think of it?”

“The word?” Your brows pinched in confusion.

“The meaning.” Tae clarified with a warm grin. “Is that something you’re interested in?”

God what is happening right now? This moment was falling right into your lap. This whole NIGHT was like a missing puzzle piece in your life. Even with all those dreams and fantasies, you weren’t quite prepared for this night. This reality. But there wasn’t a way back, only going forward with the natural flow you felt pulling at your entire body and soul. And it was taking your right to Tae.

“Apparently..”

He seemed keen to suss out why. You didn’t blame him, having put a giant arrow right there essentially. In that book for him to see. He probably could tell you were the type who didn’t give time to things you weren’t truly interested in.

“Oh?” Tae leaned closer and the bed dipped more. “You get turned on by sound?”

You couldn’t look, turn away, or barely breathe. The pressure condensing inside your pelvis was pulling everything to it with the intensity of a blackhole.

“Basically.” Your eyes were barely open as Tae’s nose brushed your cheek. His breath warmed the trail of his touch.

“Is there a particular sound that does it for you?”

“Yes.” Time to lean into the experience. Just abandon all pretense of concern that he’d judge. Nothing about his questions right now were needling or picking your apart in any way.

Tae’s lips quirked. “Tell me. I’m curious.”

He’d be waiting a while since you suddenly couldn’t admit it, even for all the times you’d dreamed of his very encouraging, handsy reaction to that detail. Your lips refused to respond but your thighs were a different story, clamping with a vice-like grip, then moved against each other when your hips shifted.

Tae’s stare bounced down, then came back up, both brows higher. He followed one corner of his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Is it a sound someone makes?”

Still, you couldn’t force out a response, but it was clear Tae already knew. He’d found the trail and doggedly followed the clues woven through your reactions.

He inclined his head, lips pausing within a hair’s breadth of your own. “Is it a voice? Is it…my voice?”

Tae had to be playing with you, or be devilishly smart. It was hard to know which. Clearly he could read people, as many as he encountered working on campus and attending classes. It couldn’t be clearer. Whatever his major, Tae’s observation skills were top tier. Skills like that, he could have been truly evil, but there was nothing in his energy that gave a sniff of evil.

“Uh huh..” You weakly managed. “I..can’t help it.”

“...And that’s why I’ve seen you at the library so much?”

“You…s..saw me there?”

Tae huffed. You hardly knew what to say to begin explaining—not that it would help. The jig was up. It was reasonable to prepare for the reality that he’d call you delusional or creepy before he got up and left. And he’d be well within your right. At the very least, you’d be lucky not to have a stalking complaint lodged with student affairs.

Compared to Tae looking up your dorm number during work hours with college equipment, your weeks of casing his job routine, just to indulge what had become an obsessive kink, seemed more legally perilous.

You held a breath, eyes screwed shut while Tae went on.

“Of course. I watched every time you came in. At first I thought it was the same old thing. Assignments or cram sessions. But..eventually, I realized it was something else–the way you reacted to the announcements. Only mine. It wasn’t hard to figure out it was my voice.. That you like it.”

It was fruitless to pretend or do damage control.

The world slid a little when you nodded, listing right towards Tae’s warm body. And making contact. Instead of pushing you away, the heat of his longing sigh rolled across your chin .

“What should I say?”

Tae, offering his voice up for use right now, allowing you a custom experience. Something levels above the usual fantasy. The chance to trade figments in the mind for flesh and blood, at YOUR command? Seemed almost too much to accept how this whole night was just getting better and better.

“Say?” You gulped. “You don’t think it’s..creepy?”

“Y/n, if I thought that, do you think I’d be here?”

“Maybe not–”

“No. I wouldn’t be. I am right now. So…let’s explore this..thing you have for me.You DO find me attractive, don’t you? Or is it just my voice?” There was a tickling playfulness in his tone. You shuddered softly and Tae’s eyes wandered to your chest. It wasn’t much to see with this big sweatshirt on.

Which suddenly felt too hot. Your skin was going damp underneath as you inhaled, chest heaving.

“I do.” Your groaning reply brought a boxy smile out on Tae’s face.

“So..” His voice dipped to that velvety deep rumble that your mind ran wild with during ‘self love’ sessions. Involuntarily your belly tightened. “Use it. Use me, Y/n. What can I do for you?”

“God..” You whined, helpless as your head dropped back, right into Tae’s palm. Like he’d anticipated, ready to guide you flat out on the bed. As you sprawled out, Tae leaned over, gazing into your eyes as they opened finally.

Running his thumb over your lower lip, Tae took a bite of his own.

“Don’t be shy. You’ve had at least a whole week’s indulgence. I’m flattered.” His voice dipped to nearly a purr, adding “...Now I want to see this little kink in action.”

His thumb prodded the warm, plump skin of your lips in exploration. A minute later, moving south to draw an invisible line between your breasts. At the waist of your sleep shorts he stopped, tickling the elastic waistband sitting below your abdomen.

Your hips undulated up, then your ass met the bed. Far and away, no fantasy had prepared you for this moment. No matter HOW often you’d clearly walked this kind of scene through.

Tae’s lids lowered further. “Or I can just talk to you, if you want, Y/n.” This option proved much more tempting. “Since I know you love my voice.”

You couldn’t scrape together words of reply, only nodding. A quiet laugh spilled over your neck when Tae leaned in and brushed his lips along your earlobe. Every exhale feathering your skin sent found ways to more than a few erogenous zones on your body–some you didn’t know until this very moment.

“P..please.” You finally whispered. Thank goodness Tae asked because this wasn’t something you’d ever be able to ask for out loud. You had enough to deal with right now, finding he was as you’d dreamed, and more than that only hours ago.

You needed that push, and he didn’t hesitate. Tae already had the reins as someone bolder than you, freeing intimate moments you’d tucked deep into your brain. The kind that only saw the light of day behind a safely locked dorm room door.

More fingers slid down your arm, to the sweatshirt sleeve, then circled your wrist and lifted that hand, bringing it to your belly. He laid that hand palm down, just above your mound, then dragged the back of a few nails along each knuckle. Slow. Deliberate. Unbelievably delicate.

“I want to see what you’ll do. What my voice inspires. You can give me that much, right?”

Another nod, then your head met the cool sheets, your senses drowning in a blending scents: detergent and the cloying sweet of Tae’s skin. Somehow, someway, he was already inside you, in some way–beyond your mind. You drew him deeper with a full breath.

When one leg drew up and the knee bent, Tae shifted around it, his thigh bracing your shin. Tae’s lips parted and breath shuddered through the space as he slid fingers under the waist of the shorts and brought them down an inch, then did it again. As he pushed the shorts down over your knees, heat rolled off bare skin. on escape made your skin prickle.

He wasn’t even properly touching you and every nerve was already blown wide open, ready to send every single sensation right to your head.

“There..” He murmured with another smile. His hand laid across your belly, then he curled the fingers curled under the sweatshirt hem and pushed it up just under your breasts.

Tae wasn’t hiding the curiosity in his eyes–he WANTED to see. If he read well enough, your body was talking too as your torso shifted and writhed. Need was crawling up from your thighs like a thousand snakes under your skin.

“What is it you think about, Y/n? You think about me kissing you? I like kissing. Especially lips like yours.” He made that act of pondering such a sultry thing. Normally you found it harmless and clinical.

Feeling suddenly heavy, your eyes rolled back. That was fine too, since it was much easier that way. You’d already dined well on sight alone and Tae's face floated readily in the blackness.

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. You let a finger slip down, plunging through the slick folds at the apex of both thighs.

A bare forearm slid against your sleeve. “How often do you come home and do this---touch yourself while thinking about me?”

Tae’s fingers slipped over top of yours and cupped the back of your hand. Like you, his finger went to the second knuckle and for a moment you both stilled. Just you and Tae, trading squeaks and gasps. You rippled around the fingers as the temperature between your breasts climbed.

“You’re so wet. God.. Was this all from hearing me? Go deeper, Y/n. Show me what you wanted and how to open you up..”

The second leg retracted, then you rolled a bit more towards the silky plane of his palm. With you, his finger plunged deeper, then a pressure circle your folds clinging around him. He was flexing and bending a second finger so perfectly. How dexterous and flexible he’d need to be to do it.

A fist tightened and you pushed firm into the mattress.

For all the changes inside you right now, there was no hurry, on Tae’s part. Like the late hour or his location on campus didn’t matter. Especially when his body elongated next to you, pressure aligning your side.

This twin mattress was normally miserable for just you. Now it seemed just right. He made a limited space feel so open and unending. But even more: he was making your insides feel smaller. Tighter. Wetter.

I’m not weak. I’m taking this chance. He said he wanted me to show him. You wanted to open up so much more and give him an idea of what you experienced calling him to mind, over and over.

“I haven’t really used my fingers much, if I’m honest.” Tae grinned into your shoulder, then nibbled. Kissed and sucked the skin, lips popping.

You shook from breasts to thighs and they widened. No shame, unconcerned. Nothing but pleasure spilled through you as more of his finger moved inside. Stretching like this was a cake walk with so much slippery fluid all over. And it was all you.

A spastic clench washed through when Tae kissed your neck then moved to your ear. His teeth sunk against your earlobe. “You’re so tight. ..Virgin? …Or is it me? Keep going… Move your finger. Play for me.”

It was how heavy those last 3 words felt that snapped your thighs together. Trapped your entwined fingers. Tae was silent when pulled away, then burrowed into your neck.

Finally his finger matched your depth, then moved backwards and cycled forward again.

“Like this? That’s it…don’t stop..” Tae teased through gritted teeth. You knew that breathing, having done it so much deep in the throes of masturbating. Like he knew just how to echo what you hungry mind wanted most: the combined sounds of fucking. Fucking with you. You, fucking Tae. The pace of breathing came naturally as you melted into a groove.

Whether it was the fingering or the sexy thoughts, the pace built. His finger wiggled and he pumped it steadily, building a web of glistening ropes between more fingers. A few strokes later and he started to prod inside you.

The currents of pleasure rode your spine, bringing your breasts up. Tae laid his chest against your as bowed back. It was just right to pin you in place. His hand cupped yours so tenderly, but with that hint of a squeeze. Like he owned your hand. Ready to use it in conjunction with his own to do whatever he wanted. And whatever THAT was, you’d do.

What crime was it to want to go along with this?

“Where..is it—” He crooned. Pressure swept along your front wall and your whole body convulse. A shimmer flooded through you. Tae chuckled. Pressure crossed the same spot, going the other way.

“There.. That’s perfect. You feel that too? Let’s have some fun with this together. It’ll be even better next time.” You barely heard anything when Tae massaged harder into that spot. You gasped through the heat and slick that was rushing to your pussy.

Your whole body went stiff. So many signals in your brain wound together, snapping and rejoining haphazardly. The sweatshirt tightened across your chest, grazing your perking nipples. Tae grunted as he rutted against your hip. There was no mistaking how hard that cock was as it pressed tight and gyrated.

He felt long. And Tae had a nice width. His cock would easily hit right where he was massaging and even deeper. You were human. Healthy and full of hormones, all rushing you towards the pinnacle of wants: his cock, stabbing into you. Stroking deep. Stamping that spot, relentlessly. Hard enough to drive right through your high. A train roaring into the dark of a tunnel on a race to the other side.

And it sent you over the edge. The orgasm was massive and much needed. So much had stored up from thinking this long about Tae. Storing so much unquenched thirst and desire in the limited space was breaking every shy speck inside you. In a blink you snapped. Floodgates inside flung wide with your guttural moan. The first contraction was so hard the faintest trickle ran out around the fingers.

“Fuck…Jesus baby.. You’re running down the back of my fucking hand..” Tae didn’t stop, working you through with more thrusting, as flow diminished but contractions increased. He flexed his finger beyond your reach, to the last knuckle, far beyond where you’d started.

Tae tugged a few times and it wasn’t gentle, but there was no pain. Only thrumming, horny shock. Only warmth to the fingertips as your womb churned towards another high. Just at the end of cumming a second time, you noticed the damp warmth under your ass. No guessing what it was or who’d done it.

Coming back to your senses finally, Tae’s face came into view. It didn’t matter how long he’d been over you like this, a dozy smile on full display with cheeks a little more red. But of course he looked good.

There were bigger concerns in life but you were floating too far from them to recall a single one. Really there wasn’t much you’d really mind right now.

Around you the room took shape again. The shadows darkened spots beyond where the limited lighting reached. Familiarity sharpened too. Here you were, back on earth. In your twin bed. 2nd floor, room 215.

His fingers still deep inside,Tae’s nose grazed your cheek. His mouth sank against the roundest part just below your eye. He pinched skin in a faint kiss, then he spoke, lips still flush to your skin.

“You could find out...” You giggled, the sound creaking as your throat and neck flexed. Maybe you really were levitating. Maybe not. It would be well deserved from Tae. A huge payout for taking quite a gamble.

“You’re still pulsing..” He observed, making you do it again just by mention, and all too quickly. Apparently tonight you didn’t require down time, which was a nice change.

“Could I? Are you the type to fuck on first dates?” ANYONE else had said that,and they’d find a red, stinging cheek or a pair of aching balls. But Tae was setting you free, instead of shutting you down.

“Would that be bad?” You didn’t think of yourself as the type, but you didn’t imagine you’d do what you’d done for weeks over man’s voice. More than just his voice. Everything about him is on my list. He IS the list.

On the heels of a flirty smile, Tae’s lips thinned. “Not at all, but that will mean we need to go on a date first.”

“...Minor detail. I didn’t know if you were single.” …In spite of everything else you’d suddenly learned, or gathered previously.

“..You don’t date?”

“It just hasn’t been a thing.” Tae’s finger was out now. He grasped your wrist and brought your finger to his lips. Without a blink, he sucked it deep between his lips, then swallowed. Tae was beyond both sexy and hot as he licked that finger clean after. Like it wasn’t enough or he just wanted every last molecule of flavor. Every trace of your taste.

That was disappointment waiting in the wings. That was reality. All you wanted was to avoid it for just a bit longer. Stay cocooned in strong, firm warmth, like you found with Tae shifting closer. More contact points between you and him.

Tae’s track record was stellar. First meeting, this man had fulfilled so much of the fantasy, with fuel to spare. Being so skilled with his fingers and voice, you didn’t want to think about what it would do when his cock was buried deep inside you.

His stare hinted he might have been pondering the same thing, but he offered a coy gaze. You were quickly to terms with how hot the room had really been, even exposed so much. You groped for the sweatshirt finding the material felt heavier, smothering your previously content shape. The garment was bulky for your taste. It needed to be gone, soon.

“I never said a thing about my dating life, but I’m available. Can you say the same, Y/n?” Neither his lips nor his brows changed shape. Tae was serious. In keeping with the trend, he looked hot like that too.

It wasn’t like you’d been saving yourself for anyone. Only in the last few weeks you realized: the waiting had been for Tae, albeit unknown. His mystery held you captive. Thinking you knew someone you didn’t know, beyond what you could grasp onto: the way he sounded. There was no way Tae wouldn’t match his looks with the quality of his voice. Finding out tonight brought you full circle to a realization that you WERE available,because you’d been saving yourself for him.

You grinned. “Yes. Available is a good way to describe it. I guess you could say we can temporarily check each other out—like a library book.”

A fling with Tae was most likely temporary and you were prepared to accept that. If it turned to something with more permeance, you’d be pleasantly surprised. With clarity came sense and reason. Beyond that there wasn’t energy for concern.

Tae took a moment to process your attempt at humor, then let out an easy chuckle. “It sounds like a match to me.” He straightened to tug the sweatshirt higher as your arms went up. It was pure relief with the shirt peeled away from your body. Tae managed to land the garment over the back of your computer chair.

Good eye. Good calculation skills. What else is he waiting to flaunt?

You took turns extending each leg for Tae to bring them to your ankles. He flung it away with less than a glance back, then he stood, taking your stare with him.

“Are you..going?” You laid back into your elbows. The effort was Herculean, holding the pose as you tried to keep panic and concern off your face. Tae could go.

He hadn’t exactly stated his plan was anything more than returning your forgotten book.

“Do you want me to? Hadn’t planned it. Do you have a curfew?”

“No..” You quickly replied.Tae hesitated, then a brow lifted. A few seconds passed, then he began pulling his shirt off too, less gentle and more efficient, dropping it right off the side of the bed he was closer to. His hand returned to find your hip and rest there. Just this touch, this light pressure from the pads of his fingers, you were aching through your core.

Tae made himself comfortable, scooting himself closer into the new space you made by shifting away from him. He pushed the book up towards your pillows, then arranged his body out beside you even, stretched more comfortably.

“Good. Neither do I.” He whispered.

“I want you to stay.” You stared at the base of his throat and lines of muscle running up from there. He was all long, graceful parts.

His eyes narrowed as he produced another warm smile that was hell of a lot like the one you’d first seen at the library desk, sans the internal conflict and panic.

“I wouldn’t object at all.” To say the least.

If fate saw fit to bring Tae to you, let your admittance and bravery not get him taken away. You shouldn’t get hooked on him. One moment…one experience at a time.

“I think that’s doable, for a little bit longer. We can read a little more from your book. Heard it’s a spicy read.”

“Oh?” Your eyes found a corner of the book cover peeking out from under the pale corner of a pillow at the headboard.

“..You…read it before?” Something passed through his eyes but Tae did his best to shrug his upward facing shoulder, reclined on his side facing you.

“Skimmed it.”

“Yeah? Cool.” You exhaled and hoping it didn't sound as much like a moan to Tae as it did to you. More time was needed to reveal how truthful he was. How accurate his statement was, based on what he’d presented. Although you didn't judge someone for their reading preferences, you wouldn’t have guessed Tae had skimmed beyond the inside cover, where he'd stamped the due date.

Tae traced your chin and walked fingertips across your lips again until he was leaning across the space to cup your cheek.

“I think I should read it to you. Since you react so well to my voice. What do you think?”

Feeling far too spun out and pleasure drunk, you nodded. When one gets an offer like this, one shouldn’t pass up. His idea deserved your wholehearted support, since it was entirely and generously tailored for you.

“Sounds good.” If Tae wanted, he could read you the phone book and it’d get the job done.

This whole ‘aural’ fetish was a thing you were grateful for, even more because you knew now: Tae was into it too. Even if it was from the other side. Perhaps there were sounds YOU could make that would have such a hold over him.

Laying back into the bed, the cool sheets worked to dull the lingering heat from your skin. Tonight you didn’t have to stare at the ceiling and imagine his face. Instead, your eyes went to Tae next to you, fully drinking in his face and energy. Enough to carry you whenever he’d leave–tonight or tomorrow.

Not like you’d never see him again. You knew that more than you knew anything else.

Tae relaxed onto his back and trained a glossy pair of eyes on your shape, eyes running your body shape against the dim light behind you. He finally spoke again.

“Grab the book. Pick a chapter and let me hear you. We’ve got a lot of exploration to do.”

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x y/n #Kim taehyung x yn #college student tae #tae and you #y/n and tae #reader x taehyung #college reader x college bts #college reader x college tae #sexy tae #college boy taehyung #college bts: tae #college bts: taehyung

11 notes · View notes

bangtanbapple · 2 years

Text

Romeo, O Romeo By moonlitjk (twitter)

Author description: jimin and jungkook are part of rival friend groups and major fields that hate each other’s guts and have since forever. so needless to say, things get a little messy when the two of them meet at a party and hit it off immediately.

Group: BTS Main ship: Jikook Chapters: 140 (Complete)

Mini masterlist: 030 - 060 - 090 - 120

#bts fic rec #bts smau #posted on twitter #complete #mainjikook #jikookau #schoolsetting #student!jimin #student!jungkook #student!taehyung #student!yoongi #student!namjoon #student!seokjin #student!hoseok #secret relationship trope

0 notes

silverozy · 15 days

Text

ATP; 01 | Love is all around

⤎ previous page | ❃ | next page ⤏

wc: 4.23k

date: 12/04/2024

mdi // masterlist // playlist

Early in September, just hours before midday. The sun is not high yet but shines light through the whole town. Like the weak and bright sunrays, Daphne's dad drove on the road, pushing through the fresh waves of the summer morning breeze. As background noise was crunching stones produced by the tyres.

Breeze combed the hair strokes. Morning freshness caused the rise of goosebumps. Butterflies in the stomach showed how excited Daphne was about moving. Yes, moving.

Usually, they'd come to the countryside only for the summer holidays but now she would stay longer. A smile was printed on her face as she observed. She was going to like this, she thought. She was going to like this place, this new beginning. She started regretting ever complaining about moving in the first place.

Her mother was in the passenger seat explaining how the town was beautiful, her fingers pointed at random spots occasionally. Daphne wasn't even listening to her. She only thought that her mother could save her breath because she didn't need any more convincing: the view before her spoke for itself.

Daphne lowered her window and, with an arm swinging outside, she observed, she beheld the sight. The car took a turn and now they were riding up a hill along a road surrounded by beautiful houses.

It'd been long since she last came here but she couldn't tell if the place had changed or she'd just forgotten.

Women were spreading out the laundry, dusting carpets, watering flowers. Pink, yellow, red, purple flowers. They painted the street. Some kids were playing in their front yard. Dogs barked and ran to their gates as they drove by. The bottom floors housed a variety of shops and all had a little banner on the doors that said 'open'. A flower shop. Greengrocery. Ironmongery. A bakery. A butcher's shop. And many more. The people looked friendly as they greeted them. She happily greeted back, and her smile expanded.

"This place is beautiful, Mom," her words caught the respondent off-guard as she immediately looked in the backseat to agree with her daughter, glad she wasn't angry anymore. "We're almost there," the dad informed, taking another turn.

The road they were riding led away from that loving neighbourhood of flowers—fields on the left and a few farms on the right. Daphne's dark hair waved with the breeze. The smell of manure filled her nostrils but instead of feeling unpleasant, it reminded her of how lovely living in the countryside was. Horses were munching on the grass. Bells on sheep rang as she passed by the flock. The manure smell was soon replaced by the one of grass coming from the left where tractors were working on the field. The big vehicles were shaping the dried grass into big blocks reminding her of her childhood and how she used to spend her time watching the whole process.

Their destination was her grandparents' place. It was a huge white two-story building with a dark brown roof, divided into two separated yet joined houses: one for them and one for the grandparents. They were struggling financially in the city so they opted to move to the countryside since they couldn't afford to pay the rent. She didn't fully oppose their decision but living in the countryside for God knows how long scared her but now that she was there, she wasn't bothered anymore.

As mentioned before, the place wasn't completely foreign to her: she'd come here with her family for the summer holidays and she enjoyed her stay with the difference of knowing she'd go back to the city and therefore back to her friend. Yeah, her friend. Singular. She didn't have friends here if not her grandparents' neighbours' daughter, Cleo, who, though, was her complete opposite: while Daphne liked spending sunny days reading on a spread-out blanket in her garden, Cleo liked running up and down and playing. Daphne felt like Cleo was like a child whose energy you must match, or else they just drain you out.

"We're here," the dad informed as he took another turn out of the long field-side road and climbed up towards a house slightly hidden by trees. Their new home. By the gate were her grandparents happily waiting for them with two big dogs beside them.

The road leading to the house cut through a mildly thick forest. The house was directly facing the road while their neighbours' were on the sides.

Daphne's smile broadened as she hopped down the car and then into her grandparents' arms. Kisses, compliments and continuous reminders of how much she grew as they hugged her before hugging the parents. Now her attention was on the two dogs that couldn't hold back from barking, hopping left and right with wiggling tails. Loki and Luke, the first was an Australian shepherd and the second was a German shepherd. They too have grown so much and she felt it the most when they got up to greet her and reached her shoulders.

Playing with their fur, she wondered whether to help her family with the bags but they read her mind and told her to go inside and not bother. She'd normally insist further but this time she didn't stay any second longer and rushed inside the house. The two dogs ran after her.

Her parents and she would live in the house on the left while her grandparents were their next-door neighbours on the right. The front door was unlocked. She quickly left her shoes outside before going inside.

It was just as she remembered it. Just as they had left it. Beneath her naked feet, the tiles were cold and of an umber brown that would create a mocha shade if mixed with the milk colour of the walls, a gradient colour that from the bottom starts in brown, slowly fades into caramel and finishes in a paler tone topped by the white-coloured painting ceiling. Matching was the chocolate brown curb.

The floor started with a rectangular anteroom. On the right was an umbrella rack, above it hangers for jackets and hats; on the left was space for shoes, a bench to sit on and put them on, hangers for keys and the staircase. Further in, the space was divided into three: the living room on the left, the dining room on the right and in the middle, leading to the garden, her second favourite place in the world, was a little space.

The living room was placed between two walls, the right one was covered in tall glass windows facing the garden, and the right one welcomed a door opening that led to a tiny hallway presenting two doors, one was the of the store and one of the bathroom. Cream sofa with green uniquely shaped pillows. A brown armchair on the left and a little swing chair on the right. Between the couch and the fireplace was a coffee table decorated with a vase of flowers and a cascade of books on the second layer. On the floor was a wide oval carpet. The fireplace was against a wall between two door openings leading to a study room.

The dining room was composed of a round table surrounded by four chairs. Further to the right was the kitchen, simple and traditional, light-brown in colour. The counters were covered with utensils, flower pots and miscellaneous items. On the tile-covered walls were hangers holding gloves, kitchen tools and aprons. The stove was as empty as the sink. The coffee machine on one side, the microwave on the other. Hanging by the handle of the oven was a chequered green cloth. Next to the stove was the dishwasher and in front of both, on the floor, was the kitchen mat. Pots resided in the wide drawers, plates in the cupboards. A double-door fridge finished the kitchen design.

She gently quieted the dogs and took her time to examine the room. A smile lit up her face whenever she took notice of any small details that reminded her of her childhood. She strolled through the kitchen, running her finger across the counters and was pleased to see that everything was sparkling clean. She couldn't stop grinning as she thought about how excited her grandmother must have been while cleaning the house in anticipation of their arrival. It was always heartwarming to see her grandmother filled with joy. She'd get very energetic and talkative unable to contain her happiness. Witnessing her grandmother's happiness was infectious, making her feel just as happy as her.

Daphne quickly rushed and ran upstairs, the dogs matched her vibe behind her. The walls that ran along to the top floor had a light floral print that gave the house the vintage and cosy look of a cottage.

While Loki and Luke ran around, she slowed down: in front of her was the little nook where she'd spend her time reading during rainy days while on the left, behind the railing, were four doors: her bedroom, her parents', her sister's and the bathroom. She missed her sister so dearly. They could meet only during summer break because she was studying abroad but she didn't linger on it much and proceeded to her bedroom. As she opened the door, the dogs ran inside.

It was just as she'd left it and that had her tear up a bit. On her left was her little bookshelf, on her right was her dresser and a little farther away from it, was her bed. The bedsheets were identical and not dusty to the touch. Another sign of her grandmother's hard work.

The blanket was light. Pink floral prints. White pillows in front of which sat her plushie, an adorable teddy bear her grandmother had gifted her when she was five. The nightstand welcomed a lamp and adorable miniature decorations she found in her grandparents' attic. Opposite the bed was the window brightening the room. In front of it was her desk and to its right, in a little nook, was her wardrobe.

After walking around the room for a few moments, she dropped herself on the bed, the softener scent filled her nostrils. She stared up at the ceiling. In the corner of her eyes, she could see the waving tails of Luke and Loki as they roamed around before walking by her legs and caressing her with their soft fur.

She was certainly going to miss her only friend in the city. Daphne had particular difficulties with making friends because she found it hard to vibe with a lot of people so finding her match was a real struggle. It took her a long time before she met Margot. The two matched like pieces of a puzzle. They vibed with each other so well. They had so much in common. To understand it better, Margot was the type of neighbour Daphne was wishing for rather than the one she had in reality because Margot was just like her. While Cleo would scrunch her face and call her boring whenever she'd say that she'd rather read all day than play, Margot would agree with her and sit down so they could read together. Margot was the type of friend who didn't feel as overwhelming. The type of friend whose simple presence was enjoyable: you didn't have to talk, play or do anything in general. Daphne and Margot brought ease to each other by simply being in the same room or space. But Daphne also couldn't fully blame Cleo: she'd met Margot in 10th grade while she had known Cleo since when they were kids. Any child would find reading all day boring. A straight-up form of torture.

Downstairs she could hear her family rustling with stuff. One of the dogs rushed out of the room while she still lay on her back, arms spread, looking up at the white ceiling in pure bliss. She didn't budge for a few more seconds and probably wouldn't have at all for minutes if she hadn't heard an unfamiliar voice come from downstairs.

It was a voice that sounded brighter than she'd ever heard in a long time. She was sure she'd left just her grandparents and parents downstairs but the voice she was hearing was female and sounded brighter than her granny's and mom's. So she sat up. Instantly. Almost robotically.

As her, the dog sensed the presence and rushed out of the room. Daphne followed right after but she didn't go downstairs. She was about to but she noticed the dogs weren't barking up and down which meant that whoever it was knew them. They were already familiar with them. A strange feeling settled in her, a feeling that held her back from going down the stairs and simply had her stretching over the railing to see. A bit shy, you can assume.

"She's upstairs," she heard her grandmother say, leaving Daphne increasingly confused. Who could be coming up to see her? She had no idea, but from the bubbly demeanour of the person, she could tell they were happy to see her. A shy smile emerged on her face just as the person appeared on the stairs. "Hey, Daphne," the voice sang as they saw her leaning on the railing. They rushed upstairs and were now standing in front of her. "Do you remember me?" Daphne's shy smile grew. How could she forget her? Caramel brown bouncy curls, freckled cheeks, moss green eyes, and lips as reddish as her cheeks. She hadn't changed a bit. She had grown, but it was still the same Cleo.

"Course I do," she happily answered and Cleo giggled. The bright smile that decorated her face made Daphne regret everything she was thinking about earlier. The smile behaved like a vibrant filter animating her memories. "Granny told me you were going to move here and I've never been happier. I thought we'd never meet again," she happily spoke while Daphne came out of her trance, grabbed her hands and led her to her bedroom.

As happy as the latter was, Cleo couldn't hold back from giggling all the time unaware of just how much happiness she'd put in the other girl's heart. A few moments ago, Daphne was thinking about how making friends was so hard for her only for Cleo to happily hop into her home, all happy to see her. Never would Daphne have thought that someone could be waiting for her so excitedly. It warmed her heart so much.

"How have you been?" she spoke first. Cleo's face glowed even brighter as she started talking. Amazingly bored, she said. Amazing because she's fine, no illness nor body ache or particular border to carry. Bored because, aside from Daphne, the neighbours were younger than her and therefore felt more like kids to babysit rather than people to make actual friends with. Granny started cleaning the house a month in advance, she narrated, and she helped her out on it. Said she enjoyed cleaning while listening to Granny telling stories about Daphne. It increased her excitement and her will to help Granny. She spent days here at the house with granny and never got tired. Granny tried to tell her not to worry but Cleo was just as excited. She'd spend the day cleaning and preparing and then would head home for dinner after which she'd be crocheting little cute things for the both.

Daphne listened with a never-ending smile. All of this for her? Wow. "I have them at my place. If you wish, later I can take you there and give you them," Daphne simply nodded. Eagerly. Happily. A happiness that then spiralled into taking Cleo in for a hug. "I'm just as happy to see you. I thought I wouldn't make friends here," Cleo dramatically gasped and clutched her chest, denying all of Daphne's beliefs. "You'll never be friend-less. Not under my watch," they both laughed before they heard a slight knock on the door. "Granny is going to prepare lunch and asked if the two of you would like to join".

✿..｡

"I caught enough vegetables from my farm so we could have fun," Granny spoke to the girls' happy faces. They were going to make pizza. Pizzas. Granny had already prepared the dough. They now had to set the ingredients and make unique pizzas. Cleo took on the onions while Daphne took a few zucchini to chop. In the fridge was a container of mozzarella and one of cheese. They had everything at their disposal.

They spent the following forty minutes chopping all the ingredients, blending tomatoes for the sauce, cutting the mozzarella into blocks and grating the cheese. Once done with that, Granny started working on the dough while the young girls buttered up the pans and prepared the oven. Next door Daphne's parents were unpacking and settling in.

"So, how was the city?" Cleo asked, starting a conversation. "Nice, in its way. Yeah, nice,"

"You've got friends you'll miss?"

"A friend, yeah. Margot. We met in 10th grade. She's a great person but knowing her, the distance is going to make the friendship falter," as she spoke, Granny smiled. She was listening and knew who she was talking about. Granny and Daphne's mother were more like sisters than anything else. Daphne's mom always kept her updated on her life and Daphne's so Granny knows how hard it is for Daphne to make friends. She'd suspected it since the girl was a little child because she could see how socializing wasn't on the list: Daphne could spend an eternity of time by herself and never get bored or feel lonely. It didn't bother Granny much but as Daphne grew so did her mother's worries. Whenever Daphne's mom called, she'd never forget to state how bothered she was about seeing her daughter be all reserved so you can imagine how happy she became the day Daphne asked her if she could invite a friend over.

"A friend? A friend! God, yes, invite your friend over! I told her. Ooh, I'm so happy. Like, I get it. She finds solace simply in herself which is a good thing, awesome in fact, because it means that no one can hurt her because, you know, out there are monsters in human form ready to just hurt people but just one person once in a while never hurts, you get me?" she told Granny on the phone. Daphne's mom is a talkative person who's scared of miscommunication and misunderstandings so whenever she's speaking, she can't hold back from clarifying every single thing she said making her wholly sound in panic.

Granny found that adorable, just like Daphne's dad did. But Daphne wasn't like her mom, she was like her dad and like Granny too. A person of a few words. Someone who enjoyed listening more than speaking.

"Oh, why's that?" Cleo asked. "Our friendship isn't really the type that goes on both physically and virtually. We... we don't text," Cleo nodded in acknowledgement before focusing back on transferring the dough from the board to the pan. "Thank god we're neighbours then," Cleo giggled. Her words warmed Daphne's heart who couldn't help but giggle as well. In the background, Granny struggled with holding back her smile.

"Are you still the bibliophile I used to know?" she proceeded. Another warm smile on her face as Daphne nodded, "I got tons of books at mine. I don't exactly classify myself as a bibliophile too but I do read. On special occasions, but I do"

Daphne chuckled and assured her she'd explore her bookshelf. Cleo giggled in response. She continued, "Do you have any specific thing to do these days?"

"No, not exactly. Why?"

"I was planning on giving you a town tour. A tour of my house, our neighbourhood, the neighbouring neighbourhoods, the town centre and, eventually, our school. You down?" Daphne quickly looked at her grandma in search of a nod of consent which she found and followed through with, agreeing to Cleo's plans. "We'll do all that today?"

"Oh, no. My god. If we did, it'd mean I carelessly showed you the place but that's not what it'll be. Once we've done the town tour, we'll go pre-school shopping. I know a store that sells the cutest school supplies I've ever laid eyes on".

They talked about their favourite school supplies: Daphne admitted to having a passion for decorating diaries and planners; Cleo's the same but decorates notebooks. Cleo got to know how a perfect academic performance was a priority to Daphne. She wasn't surprised. Daphne got to know that Cleo didn't change much and cherishes a good time above bending over a book and reading all day. She, as well, wasn't surprised. While Daphne is a dog person, Cleo fancies cats. Cleo adores sunny days, Daphne'd rather stay under a downpour than a burning-hot sun. Daphne's an early bird. Cleo's a night owl.

Overall, Daphne could tell that they were two different faces of the same coin. Equally different. Cleo was going to be a hit of fresh breeze to her pretty monotone life. She's someone who loves indulging in the same routines but, in that moment, she was ready to change them all for Cleo.

Can't really blame her. You have yourself someone eagerly waiting for you despite having seen you years ago and then we talk.

✿..｡

By noon, all the pizzas were ready, hot and sizzling delicacies. As they waited, the whole family, Cleo's included, helped with setting the table on the veranda. Eight chairs. A round wide dining table. A floral print tablecloth. A vase of fresh flowers in the centre. Scattered evenly were jars of water, fresh and sparkling. In front of each chair was a plate sided by a fork and a knife. No need for spoons.

Birds chirped. Dogs barked. Cutlery clicked on plates. Water hit the kitchen sink whenever someone washed their hands or rinsed a utensil.

"Food's going to be up in minutes," Cleo announced and soon everyone was sat at the table. Granny and Daphne's mom came on the veranda with pizzas placed on round wooden boards. Everyone seated exclaimed in joy, complementing the cooks.

Once they've brought enough, they finally sat at the table. They said the grace before they started sharing the pizzas into slices. One helped the other and soon everyone had something on their plate, a bite between their teeth.

Cleo sat next to Daphne. They each had a slice of the pizza the other prepared and were complementing each other on the result. Smiles never faded away. Beside Cleo was her brother, Cole. He too was smiling, laughing in fact, with the adults. Beside him, his father.

Daphne had met them and had a little conversation with them. Cole had just graduated high school and would go to the University by October. He had a car of his own and was working on getting an apartment too. Daphne didn't see the mother and no one mentioned her so she didn't pry further but that didn't stop her from wondering.

Cleo's father loved dad jokes. He couldn't help but stick one every two sentences. They made people laugh for the sole reason of being hilarious, so stupid that it has you wondering how can someone even come up with them. He had a deep voice that made everything he said sound serious which made the jokes come off even funnier. Cole took after him. He too had a deep voice but he didn't make any hilarious jokes. Everything he did and said sounded very mature. Daphne assumed that he probably read a lot or had a good academic performance. He just sounded like he could be the class president, like the type of teenage student who could argue with a scumbag of a teacher pushing sixty who feels heavily entitled.

Cleo's voice contrasted theirs. She was the bright moon on a dark and starless night. Her voice was as chirpy as her laugh. She looked like the type of person who could rock golden shades because she glowed. She glows. She looked like the type of girl you'd always want to be happy, never sad, never see cry. The type of girl whose sad face could induce the watcher into a great state of melancholy. The type of person that can make anyone empathic.

A part of her almost reminded Daphne of her mother with the only difference that while her mother talked so much in fear of causing a misunderstanding, Cleo talked so much because she was simply made like that. Her mind was a running film strip. A very fast one and she was always in a hurry to talk about it in every of its details.

The lunch went on like this. Laughter was the only thing you could hear. Some dad jokes here and there but all for fun. All in happiness.

Daphne in that moment thought that her past life wasn't a life. Was she dead the whole time because she started feeling alive only this day, in this instant, sitting between her mom and her old-yet-new friend, eating pizza in the wonderful atmosphere of the sunny day.

Yeah, she was probably dead the whole time. Or at least a zombie.

⤎ previous page | ❃ | next page ⤏

#bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung x oc #Spotify #taehyung!student #zy

14 notes · View notes

strrynghtskyys · 11 months

Text

Rain

🌧️ Rated T

🌧️ Taekook

🌧️ 12k, Completed

🌧️ strangers to lovers, fluff, slow burn, character development, ceo!jungkook x artstudent!taehyung

🌧️ CEO Jungkook is constantly busy with meetings, dinners, and a hard decisions to make for his company. He’s busy enough that he’s come to only care about his company and the board of directors — that’s what boosts the bottom line. So why is it that the painter that sits alone at the beach he passes everyday, painting by himself, catches his heart and pulls him in? What is it about him that makes Jungkook open his home and his heart to this stranger, changing himself in the process?

🌧️ AO3

🌧️ Wattpad

Masterlist

30 notes · View notes

darkjimxn · 7 months

Text

Chapter 2: Busted [M]

Summary: “A manwhore and a junkie… it’s a match made in heaven.”

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: High School au, angst

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: 18+, substance use disorder/drug addiction, PTSD, child abuse, sexual content (not explicit), additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: Sorry for taking forever to update, a lack of motivation and school are to blame :( On another note, thanks for that anon's kind words, comments like that really help to keep me motivated!

Jimin lurched upright as the sound of the door shuddering violently reverated around the room, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. For a fleeting moment, he was back in his childhood bedroom, watching his door be slammed against repeatedly while his father let out a string of threats from behind the wooden structure.

But instead of his father bursting into the room, it was Taehyung, who looked exhausted and distressed.

“Party’s over, get out,” he announced, pausing when he noticed who was sitting up on the bed, “oh, it’s just you.”

Taehyung looked into the hallway for a moment, shouting at someone to hurry up, before poking his head back into the room, “are you staying over? My parents won’t mind, you already know they love you more than me.”

Jimin chuckled, trying to mask his erratic heartbeat, “they won’t mind me, but what about her?”

Their gazes both dropped on you, who was still sleeping peacefully beside Jimin under the soft covers of the bed. He found it funny how Taehyung’s incessant banging hadn’t even caused you to stir in your spot.

“Yeah no, definitely not. She needs to go.”

Jimin nodded, expecting as much, “I guess I can stay over tonight, just let me wake her up.”

“Great!” Taehyung declared, clapping his hands together, “but when you’re done that, sleep in the second bedroom, not this one. My parents would kill me if they thought I made you sleep in some random guest room.”

“Because I have parents!” He raised his voice suddenly so everyone rushing in the hallways could hear him, “I’m not one of those frat boys whose parents go on week-long business trips! Mine will be back in a few hours from a date, so everyone get out of my house!”

After watching Taehyung scurry back into the halls, Jimin turned towards your sleeping form.

You were completely passed out as you laid on the mattress with the comforter covering half your face and a pillow fixed snuggly between your arms. The part of your face that Jimin could see was puffy from the few hours of sleep the two of you had managed.

“Y/N?” He tried, repeating your name a few times.

But the most you did was shift in your position, and even that had been at his last repeat of your name. With a sigh, Jimin shuffled closer to you, letting his hand rest on your bare arm tentatively while he called your name once again.

It was only when he shook your arm when you finally shifted, “hm?”

“The party’s over, you have to go kitten,” Jimin answered. He felt you slipping back to sleep, causing him to catch your arm and pull you into a sitting position.

The change in posture had you blinking lazily as Jimin’s figure appeared before you, top exposed and sitting up in the bed the two of you had apparently spent the night in. His orange hair was sticking out in multiple directions while his eyes were slightly squinted due to his sleepy form.

The party’s over…

Party? Yes, party… there had been a party and then you and Jimin had sex and then the two of you had fallen asleep.

Reluctantly, you turned to take in the rest of the room, which was still dark aside from the bedside table lamps and a sliver of moonlight which had escaped through the window. If the moon was still out, then that meant the two of you must have only slept for a few hours.

“Hey,” Jimin spoke up after a couple of seconds, noticing your groggy form, “you good?”

You blinked a couple of times cluelessly, wishing instead to just burrow back into the sheets and sleep for days. Your body felt like an anchor: heavy and unwilling to move until a sturdy metal chain was ready to drag you out of the bed.

“Did you come here alone?” He asked when you didn’t answer, assessing your state carefully. Your nod came after a few moments too long as your mind struggled to process his question.

That made Jimin’s eyebrows furrow, “okay, I’ll take you home. It’s still pretty late in the night and I don’t think you can drive in this state.”

With that said, he pushed himself out of bed, the blanket falling to the floor to reveal his toned back as he began throwing on his clothes. It wasn’t until he was pulling his shirt over his head when you forced yourself to stumble to your feet and do the same.

The cool air felt fresh against your skin as the two of you walked along the road quietly side by side. It had taken Jimin forever to get your address and car keys in order to drive you home, but once he had parked your car in front of your house, he only needed one look at the abnormally long distance between the separate driveway and the front door to decide that your exhausted form wouldn’t last two steps without him.

Your house wasn’t like most, slotted between a row of other houses to form a crowded and organised community. Rather it was located far away from any neighbourhoods, and instead nestled between large acres of grassy land. Jimin would’ve guessed it was farmland, but in the dark he found it hard to make out any crops or barns with animals, so he couldn’t say for sure.

That led to the two of you walking along a dirt-packed footpath, with Jimin keeping a firm hand on your arm to make sure you wouldn’t fall from exhaustion. It still irked him as to how you could still be so tired even now. Sure, you weren’t exactly running on a full night’s sleep, but the few hours you had managed should have been enough to ensure you weren’t a walking zombie.

“Was it the sex?” He finally asked, “How can you be this tired?”

Even in your exhausted state you still managed to shoot him a withering glare.

“If you had just let me take the Adderall earlier, I wouldn’t be like this.”

Jimin’s expression fell quickly, a sinking feeling in his stomach, “why? You don’t need it.”

“How would you know? I have a prescription,” you lied smoothly, “do you not believe in mental health, Park Jimin?”

You tried to remember what Adderall was actually used for to really sell your lie, but your mind was much too hazy to manage that level of thinking.

An amused scoff escaped Jimin’s lips, “really? What do you take it for?”

You almost groaned out loud as you went back to racking your brain. BPD? ASPD? IBD? Ugh, why did so many disorders exist in the first place?

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally huffed, giving up on the ability of your thoughts, “I don’t owe you my medical history anywa-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a pebble caught between the edge of your shoe and the dirt-packed ground, causing you to stumble. With how sluggish you felt, your face would have gotten some serious reshaping if it wasn’t for Jimin’s hand that kept you steady,

“The bottle didn’t have a prescription label with your name on it,” Jimin said, pulling you up, “you don’t have to lie to me.”

That made you groan, “if you’re going to tell me about the dangers of drugs and how I’m going to die alone I don’t want to hear it. I have no energy to deal with that right now.”

But to your surprise he didn’t say anything, even after the two of you had arrived at your front door. Instead, Jimin turned towards you, an unreadable expression evident on his face. Or maybe you were just too tired to make out the meaning of his facial features.

For a brief moment, his lips parted, hinting at an unspoken thought he might have wanted to express. But after a moment of silence, he ultimately closed his mouth, choosing instead to look away.

“Sleep tight, kitten,” he said finally, turning around and making his way back to the car without another glance, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

You watched him drive off, much too tired to think any more of the recent events.

The next morning the shrill sound of your alarm was quick to spring to life, causing you to groan irritably. You slammed a pillow over your ear in a desperate attempt to block out the deafening noise, hoping that it would at least be enough to get you a few more seconds of sleep, but the soft barrier couldn’t do much to dampen the piercing screech. Frustrated, you threw the pillow off of you, letting it’s useless form fall to the floor.

With the pillow gone, the first thing that hit you was the sunlight. It travelled into the room through your window, setting fire to your surroundings as if someone had accidentally brought the sun in here. It was too bright. Everything was too bright and too loud and too hot.

Wishing for some semblance of peace, you finally turned towards your bedside table to pick up your phone and shut off the annoyingly loud alarm. It felt a little better, but it wasn’t enough. The sunlight was still so bright it hurt your eyes, while your body still felt heavy. And you were hungry too. So hungry you felt like you could eat a whole cow if you were given the chance.

“God Adderall crash is such a pain,” you whined as you turned towards your bedside table and began rummaging through the drawers. You pushed past safety pins, hair ties, hairbrushes, some old papers…

Your eyebrows furrowed as you continued searching, but ultimately failed to produce a small white bottle that was your salvation at the moment. You just got a new bottle from Yoongi, where could it be?

You forced yourself to recount yesterday's events, ignoring your rumbling stomach and sore arms. The bottle had been in your pocket as you were leaving school, so it couldn’t still be there. Then you attended Taehyung’s party where you drank some beer and failed to find some drugs, so instead you had sex with Jimin-

You flopped back into your bed as the realisation came crashing down on you. Jimin. Park Jimin had taken your bottle and thrown it away. Your last tiny bottle of Adderall was now in a trash can in Taehyung’s house.

Your body suddenly felt ten times heavier at the thought. The last time you were out of Adderall, you had to go through a week of fatigue, headaches, and an intense desire to eat everything in sight. You could not go through that again.

With newfound determination, you stumbled out of your room and down the stairs to enter the kitchen. Your goal had been to search the cabinets for some Adderall you might have stashed in the past for later, but the sight of the fridge had derailed that goal. You couldn’t help but grab yesterday’s leftover noodles and shovel them into your mouth as you simultaneously began searching the cabinets. You had to have at least one stash hidden somewhere in the house.

Though the more you rummaged through the cabinets, the more frustrated you were becoming. They were filled with nothing but decade old spices and some granola bars you couldn’t help but eat alongside your noodles.

Ultimately you huffed in frustration as you shut the last cabinet and collapsed onto the floor of the kitchen, still no Adderall in hand. Yoongi couldn’t contact you until the police were off his back and you didn’t have any other dealer you could go to. It had already taken you so long to find someone as trustworthy as him. What were you going to do?

Could you get your bottle back from Taehyung’s house? There’s no way that rich kid with a bunch of maids wouldn’t have already replaced all the trash cans in his house, and there’s no way you’d find your small white bottle in all that trash after a party.

You munched on one of the granola bars as you tried to figure out some other solution to your problem, but with your mind going through withdrawal, it was pretty much useless. There was no hope.

As you sat tiredly on the kitchen floor, biting at your granola bar and finishing up the noodles, your gaze suddenly caught onto a flash of white near your fridge. Confused, you scooted closer to it.

Your eyes widened in excitement as you noticed a small white bottle wedged between the bottom of the fridge and the counter. You knew it. You knew there had to have been one bottle left.

But as you grabbed at the small container, it became apparent even to your unfocused mind that the bottle of Adderall was completely empty. Not even one pill for you to at least get through the day.

Tired, still hungry, and mind foggier than ever, you just wanted to burrow back into your bed and sleep for the rest of the week. And you were about to do just that until the sound of the kitchen door slamming shut behind you caused you to flinch.

“Y/N?”

The mind that was struggling to form even one thought suddenly froze altogether at the familiar voice. Eyes wide and bottle in hand, you slowly turned to find your father standing near the kitchen’s doorway. There was a white plastic shopping bag hanging from his hand as he first scanned your form on the kitchen floor, the granola bar wrappers on the dining table…

And then the empty bottle of Adderall in your hand.

Crap.

When Jimin thought of therapy, the first thing that usually came to mind was a minimalist living room with two neutral-coloured sofas, a matching coffee table, and an intrusive woman that was hell bent on finding out ‘how he feels.’

The sofas and coffee table were definitely no stereotype, confirmed by the beige couch he was sitting on now and the glass coffee table standing right before him.

The intrusive woman, on the other hand, remained yet to be seen.

Jimin’s gaze jumped around the room anxiously as his arms leaned against his knees, taking in the tall bookshelf that he assumed was filled with self help books, an abstract painting filled with strokes of blue, black, and white, and a window displaying the vast view of the city’s many buildings.

He had been so preoccupied with scanning the window that the sudden sound of the door opening made him flinch. His head snapped towards the door behind him, revealing a woman in her late twenties walking into the room. She was dressed professionally, with a simple white blouse tucked into black dress pants, while her straight brown hair flowed freely beneath her shoulders.

“Hello Jimin,” she greeted with a smile when she noticed his seated form, “you’re early. That’s good.”

Jimin greeted her back politely as he watched her take a seat on the identical sofa in front of him. Her sudden entrance had only increased the anxiety he felt towards the fact that he couldn’t see the door. If someone else were to walk through it quietly enough, he wouldn’t even know. Anyone could just sneak up on him just like that…

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke up, unable to contain his anxiety much more, “could we- um, switch seats?”

Instead of confusion, there was only understanding apparent on the woman’s face, “of course.”

He thanked her as they changed seats. With both the window and the door in his sights he felt a little less anxious.

Once everything had been settled, the woman gave him a warm smile, “my name is Lauren, and I will be your therapist for the duration of your sessions.”

“How long is this going to take?” Jimin couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t want to be rude, he knew Lauren was only doing her job, but for some reason her presence made him anxious. He felt like she could see through him and reveal every part of himself he’d much rather stay hidden.

“This, as well as your future sessions, will be around fifty to sixty minutes long. During this time, we will be focusing on your feelings in reaction to the traumatic event, but we won’t be focusing on that too much today since I’ll be doing most of the talking.”

Lauren held up a binder that was sitting on her lap,“I’ll have your treatment manual in my lap and will be referring to it throughout our sessions to ensure I deliver the psychotherapy as it was prescribed. Please don’t hesitate to ask questions as the session unfolds.”

Jimin simply nodded, eyeing the beige pendulum wall clock that had barely moved since she had walked into the room. Seeing as only a minute or two had gone by, he knew this was going to be the longest hour of his life.

Oblivious to his apprehension, Lauren began to give him an overview of what would normally go on in their sessions before she explained the outline of their current session. It wasn’t until she had moved onto a different topic when Jimin’s straying attention was caught once again.

“According to your CAPS score, you met diagnostic criteria for PTSD, which is a mental health condition that often develops after experiencing a distressing event. PTSD is characterised by three clusters of symptoms: re-experiencing, avoidance and numbing, and hyperarousal. Could you give me some examples of symptoms you experience that would fall under any of these clusters?

There was a moment of silence as Jimin shifted uncomfortably, “I get frequent nightmares- that would fall under re-experiencing. And last night, for a moment, I thought I was back in my childhood room and my dad was banging against the door. Sort of like a mini flashback.”

Lauren nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“For avoidance and numbing… I try to avoid thinking or talking about what happened altogether. I also kind of feel detached from others, but I couldn’t really explain that in detail even if you asked me to.”

“As for hyperarousal symptoms…” Jimin paused, “Taehyung always tells me I keep my guard up a lot. I’ve also noticed that small things tend to startle me as well.”

Lauren nodded, “re-experiencing symptoms, like your nightmares, are related to hyperarousal symptoms, like your hypervigilance. Both of these symptoms usually elicit a desire to either avoid, become numb, or both. Ironically, trying to avoid or numb your feelings ends up maintaining, or even increasing, your PTSD symptoms. Which is why the more you avoid or numb, the worse your condition gets. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he responded, eyeing the clock once again as her words flew over his head..

“Everyone has existing beliefs that encompass how they see themselves, others and the world. When these beliefs are challenged by things like traumatic events, people respond in different ways. Some might change their perception of the event to make sense of it and essentially blend it into their existing beliefs. This is a process called ‘assimilation.’ Another reaction can involve a process called ‘overaccommodation,’ which involves an individual drastically changing their entire belief system to make the traumatic event fit. Trauma usually affects various areas of beliefs, including safety, trust, power or control, esteem, and intimacy.”

“Another important thing to note is that if someone already had negative beliefs about these aspects before the traumatic event, the event could further reinforce those negative beliefs. Make sense?”

Jimin simply nodded, not entirely understanding much of what she was saying; he just wanted the session to be over with faster. It felt like his brain was going to explode with all the new information that was being thrown at him and his distaste only grew when she asked him to describe his upbringing.

Even though he knew talking was all therapy was about, he really didn’t want to talk about his crappy past. He’s done a great job of pretending it didn’t exist up until now.

“My dad did drugs all throughout my life,” Jimin forced himself to say, reminding himself that he had to at least give this thing a try if he wanted to get better, “ they were really hard ones too. They would make him have these hallucinations where he was convinced my mom was cheating on him, or that she and I were planning his downfall or something.”

“Because of that he used to beat my mom a lot, so badly she’d end up in the hospital sometimes. He tried to beat me too, to ‘teach me a lesson,’ but my mom would always protect me by diverting his attention onto her. She did that for the first seven years of my life before she decided that she’d had enough of being my human shield and ran away. My dad’s drug use got ten times worse after that, and with no one to stop him, he began beating me instead.”

Jimin’s gaze dropped to his fidgety hands, “I wonder if my mom left because she had gotten sick of raising me as well. I guess I was a little hyper for my age, maybe if I had been a more quiet and obedient kid she would’ve taken me with her when she left.”

He noticed Lauren write something down in her binder, but decided not to voice his curiosity. When she finished, she looked up at him with sympathy evident in her eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that Jimin, you didn’t deserve what your father did to you all those years.”

Jimin merely shrugged, though his gaze wouldn’t meet hers.

“Many people experience traumatic events in their lives, but not everyone develops chronic PTSD symptoms. This is because of a concept commonly known as ‘stuck points.’ Stuck points refer to certain ways of thinking about trauma and about oneself, others, and the world that act as barriers to healing and moving forward. These patterns of thought basically keep a person ‘stuck’ in their distress and contribute to the persistence of PTSD symptoms. This is why the main goal of these therapy sessions will be to figure out what prevented your recovery.”

“But in order to achieve this goal, we’ll have to explore your trauma. Could you provide a five minute account of the traumatic event you experienced?”

That made Jimin scoff, “I got beat up several times a month for years. How am I supposed to pick one?”

“Which of those events do you think about the most? Which event do you dislike thinking about the most? Remember it doesn’t need to be detailed, just a brief overview of what happened.”

Jimin’s dread intensified as his restlessness only increased. But the session was close to ending soon. The faster he got this over with, the faster he could leave.

“I get the most nightmares about the night my dad died,” he recounted emotionlessly, the pace of his words quickening, “I was in my bedroom with my girlfriend when my dad suddenly started banging against the door. I let him in, but realised he was hallucinating some insane story which made him hurt my girlfriend. I ended up taking a bat to his head which eventually killed him.”

“You did a great job sharing that with me,” she praised, “how do you feel after sharing that memory?”

“Like I want to leave,” he said honestly.

Instead of taking offence, Lauren simply nodded in understanding.

“‘Natural’ emotions are feelings that are proportionate reactions to experiences that have occurred. For example, if we’re placed in a dangerous situation, it’s natural to feel fear. The diminishing course of these emotions means that allowing ourselves to feel these natural emotions will eventually cause them to naturally dissipate. ‘Manufactured’ emotions, on the other hand, are emotions that we contribute in making through the frequency of certain thoughts. For example, if a person tells himself he’s ugly again and again, he will likely feel more and more anger towards himself. This is why another goal of therapy will be to figure out how you have been manufacturing emotions that are unhelpful to you.”

“So to summarise, the three major goals of therapy will be to, one, remember and accept what happened by not avoiding those memories and associated feelings. Two, to allow yourself to feel your natural emotions so that the memory can be put away without such strong feelings still attached. And, three, to balance beliefs that had been disrupted or reinforced so that you can stop manufacturing unhelpful emotions.”

The mention of ‘feeling his emotions’ made Jimin want to crawl out of his own skin.

Lauren then put up a strong case for how important it would be for Jimin to do the out-of-session practice she’d be assigning him at the end of every session, emphasising that not doing those assignments would mean that Jimin would only be spending 1-2 out of 168 hours a week on his recovery, and that doing the assignments would help him reduce his inclination towards avoidance. His nods felt automatic as his gaze stayed fixed to the wall clock, urging its hands to move faster. Recounting his past had left him jittery and all he wanted to do now was lock himself in his room, away from the world and especially away from the therapy that he was disliking more and more every minute.

But seemingly satisfied with his response, Lauren handed him a worksheet anyway, “your first assignment will be to write an Impact Statement about the meaning of the event you recounted today. This is not a trauma account. Rather, it’s simply designed to get behind the meaning of the event in your life and how it impacted your belief systems.”

He took a look at the worksheet, seeing that it only reiterated what Lauren had said to write in more detail, before hesitantly taking it from her outstretched hand. The two of them then exchanged a few pleasantries as he rushed through the doorway.

Jimin couldn’t seem to run out of that place fast enough.

Your muscles stayed frozen as your father continued to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, glare directed towards the white bottle in your hand. You couldn’t believe you had completely forgotten that he was coming home today, your mind too occupied with finding a solution to your current Adderall predicament, and now here he was catching you in the kitchen with an empty bottle of Adderall in your hand.

You were so screwed.

Your father finally walked deeper into the kitchen before snatching the bottle from your fingers and inspecting it thoroughly.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Listen dad, I completely forgot you were coming home tod-”

“We had a deal, Y/N,” he interrupted, crossing his arms, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

You pursed your lips, unable to put up any defence. He seemed to study your form in silence as you pushed yourself off the floor and opted to lean against the dining table instead, still much too tired to even stand on your own. Whatever he saw must have been pathetic enough for him to simply sigh instead of scold your ears off.

“Forget it,” he huffed before turning around and making his way towards the porch.

“Come on, I brought some food.”

“God, you know I hate the smell of weed dad,” you whined, waving a hand under your nose like it would do anything to dampen the putrid smell.

The two of you sat on the porch overlooking the vast acres of land that surrounded your house comfortably, making use of the white plastic table and chairs that were at least a decade old. Usually you would appreciate the beauty of the view, with its luscious green grass, bright blue sky, and fresh airy breeze that were completely absent in the city.

Today though you were miserable with withdrawal, so the green grass and blue sky were much too bright for your eyes, and the fresh air was obscured by the smoke coming out of the fat blunt between your father’s fingers.

“I already told you the smell goes away after a few minutes,” your dad responded, “here, take some. It’ll help you feel less crappy during your Adderall Crash.”

Normally you would decline. You weren’t a fan of smoking, even if it was weed, since it always made you cough your lungs out. But with your current Adderall withdrawal and the prospect of having to feel this way for the next week looming over your head, you uncharacteristically accepted your father’s blunt before taking a long drag of the thing.

Just like always, you had to cough it out for a moment.

“Ah, I feel like I’ve failed you as a father for not teaching you how to smoke properly.”

“Most fathers wouldn’t let their kids near this stuff in the first place,” you deadpanned.

Your father was much too high at that point to take any offence to that and instead laughed.

“So,” you began, wanting to change the subject, “how was work?”

He took a moment to answer, “work’s work. I drive a giant truck here and then I drive a giant truck there. Drove a little farther away than usual yesterday. The view was incredible, like something straight out of Narnia”

You nodded, beginning to feel your mind and body relax from the drag you had taken earlier. You watched your father open the white plastic bag and bring out some takeout, announcing that he had gotten it on his way back home. He handed you a burger and fries as he brought out one for himself.

“So, care to explain to me why I found you on the floor of the kitchen with an empty bottle of Adderall in your hand?” Your father asked, taking a bite out of his burger.

You threw a few fries into your mouth, chewing on the crunchy exterior while the inner softness melted on your tongue. Maybe weed wasn’t your thing, but even you had to admit that eating when high on the stuff was just another experience in itself. It had the power to turn even the worst fast food into the most delicious, five-star food known to man.

“I’m out of Addy,” you finally admitted.

“Addy?”

“Adderall.”

“Right,” your father said, “I can’t keep up with the slang you kids keep inventing nowadays. But anyways, I figured that much. I meant to ask why?”

“I’m sorry dad, I know I promised that I’d get some for your friend since he’s been asking for it, but my dealer had to go in hiding because the police had been tipped off about him and now I don’t have any for myself much less your friend.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” your dad shrugged, not as annoyed by it as earlier. You weren’t sure whether it was because he’d gotten over it or because he was high.

It was probably the latter.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone that could get some for me would you?” You asked hopefully, though the weed was making you feel a lot less concerned about it at the moment.

Unfortunately your dad just shook his head, “my plug doesn’t really deal the small stuff like Adderall. I can give you some Ritalin though? I have a prescription for it for my job. I heard it’s basically the same thing.”

“I’ve heard the same,” you thought for a moment. Honestly you were desperate for anything at this point, “I’ll take it then. Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, your relaxed minds taking in the scenery before you. Unlike earlier, you were starting to enjoy the sight of the fields, with its soft green grass and glorious sky. The soft breeze felt fresh against your skin as you continued to bite into your delicious burger.

“By the way, what happened to your car? Did you take it to the mechanic or something?” Your dad asked absentmindedly, “I didn’t see it in the driveway.”

“What? Are you sure?” You asked as your eyebrows furrowed. Your car should’ve been parked in the driveway since the party last ni-

You suddenly stumbled to your feet, grabbing onto the railing when you felt a wave of dizziness hit your head. You hadn’t driven your car back home last night, Jimin did. But he had left your house driving a car too. That meant…

A gasp slipped from your lips as you rounded a corner, scanning the empty driveway now standing before you. Aside from your dad’s enormous truck, your black compact Toyota was nowhere in sight.

“He stole my car,” you realised incredulously.

That bastard stole your car.

“Jeez Y/N calm down, you’re shaking the whole table,” Namjoon whispered, eyeing the teacher as she continued to lecture the class.

You were seated in your last period classroom, practically counting down the seconds as you waited for the bell to finally dismiss the absolute nightmare of a day you were having. When you had asked your dad for some Ritalin, you had expected him to hand you Ritalin. Whatever he had actually given you had to be far from it though, because there was no way anyone would subject themselves to what you were going through.

Since the morning you’ve felt like a ticking time bomb, too much energy packed into a single human being. You couldn’t stop moving, which was evident in your persistently shaking leg and constantly fidgeting fingers. Technically you did manage to focus in class, but it had taken a lot more energy than you usually needed to compared to when you were on Adderall.

At this point, you were just waiting for the awful effects to wear off, but you didn’t know whether your father had given you the extended-release form or the immediate-release form. You hoped it was the latter because you could not endure this for another 7 hours.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Namjoon asked, laying a hand on your finger. You hadn’t even realised you had started tapping against your desk anxiously.

“God, I’m so jittery right now,” you admitted, willing time to go faster, “I shouldn’t have taken that Ritalin.”

Namjoon’s gaze narrowed as he let out a frustrated breath, “of course it’s the drugs. Why should I even bother thinking otherwise at this point?”

Choosing to ignore the comment, you tried to calm your shaky hands to no avail. As if you weren’t anxious enough, now Namjoon’s frustrated, and slightly worried, gaze drilled into the side of your head.

Thankfully, the sound of the bell reverberated around the classroom a few minutes later, signifying the end of the period. The second the teacher dismissed you all with a wave of her hand, you were out the door, ignoring Namjoon’s inquiries about where you were going. You may have been the most energetic you’ve ever been in the past few years, but you still hadn’t forgotten that there was something important you needed to do.

So you pushed past the hundreds of students beginning to crowd the hallway, searching through a sea of maroon and dark grey uniforms for a certain orange-haired menace. You’d seen him in your second period, taking advantage of his seat that was directly behind you by annoying you to no extent throughout the class. Then the coward had left class 5 minutes early so that he didn’t have to face your wrath after the bell rang.

Your only option now was to search for him after school, which you did in the cafeteria, gymnasium, and a bunch of classrooms, but he was nowhere in sight. You were even debating checking out the principal's office in case the idiot had gotten himself detention.

Fortunately you didn’t need to make a fool of yourself in front of any school faculty when you turned into a relatively deserted hallway and noticed a flash of orange.

You found Jimin standing with his back towards a row of lockers, speaking casually with a frustrated-looking Taehyung. He looked really angry, though you weren’t close enough to hear what they were talking about. Despite his friend’s evident irritation, Jimin seemed completely nonchalant. The first few buttons of his uniform had been undone, revealing a sliver of his toned collarbone while his tie hung loosely from his neck.

But you pushed Jimin’s good looks and Taehyung’s frustration aside, opting instead to march up to the man you’ve been searching for.

When you were close enough, his gaze finally noticed your form, eyebrows raising for a moment before a smirk overtook his features.

“Well, look what we have here. What’s wrong, ki-”

But you had no desire to entertain the jerk for any longer than you needed to. Instead, you grabbed his collar, surprising Taehyung who hadn’t even realised you were there, and dragged him through the hallway before entering the school’s only gender neutral bathroom. The door slammed shut behind you as you focused your glare onto him.

Jimin merely chuckled.

“If you wanted round two so badly, you only had to ask, kitten.”

Maybe it was the Ritalin that was fueling your irritation, because the sound of that nickname had you a lot more annoyed than usual.

“My car.”

Jimin leaned against the bathroom wall, crossing his arms as he scanned your form.

“Come again?”

“You stole my car,” you spat, trying to contain your annoyance. You felt like you had so much energy, mixed with anger that was a dangerous combination.

“Your car,” he said finally, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I have it, yes.”

His nonchalance wasn’t helping either.

“Just because you drove me home that night, doesn’t mean you have permission to steal my car. You think you get to have something like that just for being a decent human being? I could’ve called a cab if I wanted to you know-”

You paused when you noticed his smile widen, clearly amused by your anger. This jerk…

“I can call the police for this, Park Jimin. Just because you gave me a good time once doesn’t mean I’ll feel guilty for having you arrested for taking my car. Have fun in jail you as-”

“I didn’t take your car because I wanted it,” Jimin interrupted, pushing himself off the wall before making his way towards you. It was only then when you realised that he wasn’t wearing his blazer, only the standard white button up that struggled to hide his toned body.

“I took your car,” he continued, stride ending right in front of you, “because I wanted you.”

That made you scoff.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You hated the way his proximity made it so much easier for your gaze to travel down his neck and linger at his collarbone. It was bringing back memories from the party, so much so that you could practically feel his plush lips on your skin as you stared at him now. The ghost of his hand rubbing circles into your waist also did not go unnoticed by you.

“It means that I wanted to see you again,” he reiterated, his own gaze dropping to your lips, as if he were having the same thoughts.

You watched his hand disappear into his pocket and return with your car keys before placing them in your hand.

“Your car’s in the parking lot,” he said in a low voice, still focused on your lips, “you can go to it right now.”

But you felt stuck under his gaze, unable to rip your own away from the movement of his plump lips as he spoke. You remembered the feeling of them on your lips, how good it felt when they had brushed against the bottom lip roughly.

Seeing that you weren’t moving, Jimin let his arms trap you against the door, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispered, “or you could stay here with me. Would you like that, kitten? To stay here with me and see what happens?”

At this point, he was so close you could feel the heat from his body on yours. The images from that night were fueling your lust. There was no doubt that that night had been amazing, and now here Jimin was giving you a chance at feeling that all over again.

Hesitantly, your fingers hovered just above his shoulders before you let them slowly travel down to his chest. You watched his muscles tense under your touch, an oddly vulnerable reaction from a guy like him.

You shouldn’t…

You really shouldn’t…

But why? Because Jimin is a prick that you can barely stand? Because the thought of giving him exactly what he wants makes you want to put yourself in timeout? He stole your car for god’s sake. He annoyed you during class.

But he’s so hot.

How could you be expected to ignore the sharp lines of his jaw? The muscled expanse of his strong shoulders and chest? The deep resonance of his voice? You can’t. Not when all of it is standing right in front of you, shooting you with a gaze that could light you on fire.

It’s not like you’re agreeing to date, you thought. Sex is just sex, and you’re sure Jimin has it with a bunch of other girls all the time. It would barely mean anything to him. It would definitely mean nothing to you.

You felt your hand continue to travel up his skin until it stopped at his neck, waiting for you to make another move. You probably should’ve pushed him away. Told him you weren’t that easy.

But instead your fingers wrapped around his already loosened tie and slowly pulled him closer until his nose was barely an inch away from yours. The words that left your mouth next had a hint of a whisper in them.

“You’re a jerk, Park Jimin.”

That was the closest to a ‘yes’ he was going to get from you. You had to keep some semblance of dignity. The man stole your car after all.

The bathroom reverberated slightly at the sound of a click as Jimin locked the door behind you before you pulled him closer, allowing him to finally catch your lips with his.

Your stomach burst at the feeling of his plump lips gliding against yours in a heated frenzy, one hand holding your cheek steady as the force of his kiss pushed you against the bathroom door. It was clear that the Jimin before you today was eager and impatient, unlike the Jimin that had taken his time that night at the party.

Right now, you couldn’t help but like it.

The hand holding your jaw pulled your face closer to his, deepening the kiss, while his other hand travelled down, brushing delicately against your neck, before grabbing at your waist. In that moment, Jimin’s tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring the space with a hunger that only rattled the butterflies flying wildly in your stomach. You felt him trace the inner lining of your lips, caressing your tongue- the action causing you to yelp unexpectedly in his mouth. As surprising as it was, you wanted him to do it again.

Jimin pressed you against the door once again, the rough surface hard against your back, but this time all you could do was pull him into you more, encouraging him to continue dragging his tongue across your mouth. You basked in the heat of his chest so close to yours, the feeling of his hand on your waist, the sensation of his tongue on yours. You couldn’t seem to get enough. He knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Every passing second had you regretting your decision less and less, no matter how annoyed you still were at him.

Distantly, you felt his middle finger rubbing circles into your waist.

Jimin broke the kiss for a moment, filling the bathroom with heavy pants as the two of you were allowed to catch your breaths. Your fingers hovered over the buttons of his dress shirt, desperate to start opening them for the view you knew wouldn’t disappoint.

Jimin, clearly noticing your impatience, let a breathy laugh escape his lips, “relax, kitten. I’ll have you moaning my name like a broken record soon enough.”

That had you scowling, which of course only seemed to amuse Jimin even more. You huffed, knowing your next words would come out weakly before they even left your lips.

“We’ll see about that.”

“You were such a jerk for that.”

You faced the bathroom’s mirror as you finished adjusting your uniform so that it at least partly resembled itself before you had walked into the bathroom. Jimin had, unfortunately, succeeded in his earlier promise and more, which had you too embarrassed to turn around and face said man who you knew was just a few steps behind you. He'd practically taken every ounce of dignity you had left, and you had given it to him on a silver platter.

If only dignity felt as good as him.

As if Jimin had heard your thoughts, he replied, “I made it worth your while, didn’t I?”

You could see him in the corner of the mirror, a sly smile plastered over his face as he peered at you through the mirror the same way you were watching him. It didn’t occur to you until now just how good his face would look with a soap dispenser thrown at it.

To your surprise, he didn’t leave right after he had fixed up his uniform. Instead, he walked over to you before slightly pressing into you, the heat from his chest spreading to your clothed back as he leaned his arms on the sink. You could feel his breath on your neck as his lips brushed against your ear.

“But let’s make one thing clear, kitten,” he breathed as the words caught your attention, his focus intense even though he was still holding your gaze through the mirror.

“The next time you want to go a round, you’ll have to ask for it. No ambiguous sex bathrooms or calling me a jerk to imply you want some. Just you. Asking me. Using your big girl words.”

“Only in your dreams will I want this again, Park Jimin,” you shot back so quickly you didn’t even have time to wonder what the hell ‘sex bathroom’ was supposed to mean. The fact that he thought there was going to be a next time was laughable.

You simply got caught up in him and his looks this time. That’s all. This was not going to be a regular thing. You’d never let that happen.

But Jimin gave you a knowing look, throwing your earlier words back at you, “we’ll see.”

You watched him reach in front of you, grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser, before drying the hands he had just washed with them and then throwing them in the trash. Once that was done he finally stepped away from you, walking towards the door of the bathroom.

He glanced at your state momentarily before opening it, ��until next time.”

And, just like that, he was gone.

“Jerk,” you muttered, the word starting to gain a familiar spot on your tongue.

After fixing yourself in the mirror one last time you walked out of the bathroom as well. To your surprise, Namjoon immediately ran up to you not a moment later.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he panted, readjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. But then his gaze shifted to behind you, seemingly noticing where you had come from, “why’d you use that bathroom? The only time people use it is for sex, you know that right?”

You turned to look back at the bathroom’s door, only now realising what ‘sex bathroom’ probably meant. Did Jimin think you had brought him in there on purpose? As some kind of ambiguous way of saying you wanted sex?

Oblivious to your thoughts, Namjoon ignored your silence, “whatever. Anyways I came here to tell you that you’re coming home with me today.”

That had you snapping back towards him, “what? No, I just want to go home and sleep off this Ritalin.”

Namjoon was shaking his head before you had even finished the sentence.

“Nope, you’re coming home with me and we’re finishing this math assignment together. Come on.”

“Wha-” He grabbed your arm before you could whine anymore and began dragging you behind him.

“Namjoon!”

“Where have you been?” Taehyung asked frustratedly as he watched his best friend make his way towards him. He had no clue where you had dragged him off, and honestly? He was too mad to care.

Jimin, on the other hand, seemed perfectly untroubled, ignoring Taehyung’s furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms to instead open up his locker. The question floated aimlessly in the deserted hallway for a moment before he huffed loudly.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened as Jimin brought a textbook out of his locker, closed it, and then began walking towards the school’s exit.

“Dude?!” He huffed incredulously, trailing Jimin from behind, “I’m talking to you!”

“And I’m ignoring you,” Jimin deadpanned. Taehyung felt himself take several steadying breaths to calm himself down, trying for a less aggressive approach.

“We were having a conversation before.”

“No, you were being tenacious. And I was trying to ignore you.”

“You’re not fine, Jimin!” Taehyung suddenly exploded, secretly thankful that the hallway was deserted, “you think I can’t see it? You think I’ve been blind these past few months?”

That had Jimin turning around, eyebrows furrowed, “what are you talking about?”

“Don’t act oblivious,” Taehyung spoke sharply, “you haven’t been sleeping properly. You’ve been pushing me away. You haven’t been okay for months- wait, no. Who am I kidding, you haven’t been okay for the past 3 years. But it’s never been this bad, Jimin. It’s been getting wor-”

“Okay,” Jimin interrupted, holding up a hand, “where is this coming from? I’ve been sleeping fi-”

“I heard you that night. At the party.”

“Wha-”

“When you came back from dropping Y/N off,” Taehyung admitted, eyes softening, “I could hear the nightmares, all of them. It’s never been this bad, Jimin.”

Jimin froze, eyes wide for a moment before he forced out a hesitant laugh, “you sure it was a nightmare? Because nightmares aren’t the only kinds of dreams that can have someone panting li-”

“Stop it,” Taehyung snapped, his voice nearing anger now, “stop using that mask on me. You can be carefree and flirty with anyone else, but we’re best friends. I know you better than that. Don’t insult me.”

Jimin let out a frustrated breath, very much tired of this conversation, “then what do you want, Taehyung?”

“What do I want? I want you to open up to me. Things have been getting worse, and yet the worse they get the more you shut me out. Just talk to me, man. Get some stuff off your chest. You can trust me. You know I’m not one to spill secrets to others.”

“I’m fine, Taehyung.”

“No, you’re not.”

Jimin ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. Taehyung has always cared about him so much, too much, for so many years. He gave Jimin a place to stay every time his dad kicked him out of the house. He never judged him for the bruises and scars littering his skin. He’s always made himself available for Jimin whenever he needed to vent about how crappy his life truly was.

And he’s continued to help Jimin, even after his father died-

No.

After Jimin murdered him.

Taehyung, of course, knows what went down that night. Maybe not every exact detail, because Jimin had just barely managed to tell him the watered down version of the story before he was a shaking heap of laboured breaths on the floor. But Jimin knew. He knew the look Taehyung had given him after hearing the story.

Taehyung had judged Jimin.

Taehyung had seen Jimin for who he really was that day.

A murderer. A cold-hearted killer that had murdered his own father like it was nothing.

And yet, still, he’s been determined to stay by Jimin’s side. He’s always cared for him despite what his true thoughts of Jimin were. Taehyung’s heart was too big. And Jimin knew he was too undeserving of it.

“As if the therapy wasn’t enough,” he mumbled, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. It was harder to push the mixed emotions starting to strain his chest.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, “as if you’re actually going to that.”

But Jimin’s silence had Taehyung’s eyes widening suddenly.

“Wait… You actually went?”

Hiding his hands in his pocket, Jimin nodded, feeling kind of vulnerable admitting that out loud. But he might as well let Taehyung know he was taking it seriously considering his parents were the only reason he could even afford to think about therapy.

To his surprise, a wide grin suddenly replaced Taehyung’s prior frown. He rested a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, “that’s great, dude! I’m really proud of you, seriously. I’m sure it’ll really help.”

Jimin couldn’t meet his eyes.

He hoped Taehyung was right.

Next Chapter...

76 notes · View notes

indigoandochre · 1 year

Text

So I’ve taken a brisk walk around - leaving my smial of opera, ELO, and 70s rock - and now I’ve come to a conclusion.

BTS is good music.

#BTS #you've got another one #like holy shit #I didn't think I liked R&B or rap #and now I'm here #I know who my bias is #I've woken up with a different BTS song stuck in my head every day #because they're all good #and they can do some wild-ass dancing #their technique is better than my fellow opera students #literally ever single one of those opera students #me included #Taehyung is a smooth Baritone and makes me feel like I'm underwater #Jimin's voice is like being above the sun-drenched cumulous clouds #Jungkook's runs make me jealous #And then we have the genuinely deep lyrics #and they're very politically outspoken!#they've put so much good into the world #I'm genuinely mad with myself that I pre-judged them so hard #Just because they're a boy band #and some of their fans are THE WORST #But nah It took being super depressed and making friends with a long-time ARMY #for me to see the error in my ways

3 notes · View notes

xoxiu · 11 months

Text

autumn outside the post office - jin x reader

chapter three table of contents masterlist

join the taglist

≪ how long will beautiful things last? ≫

It was a downpour of rain while you waited for the bus. Everyone around you remained somewhat dry under their umbrellas, except for you. You were the dumbass who didn't have an umbrella. Alas, you had to brave the elements and hope you didn't get sick the next day.

The rain was so thick, you couldn't make out any of your surroundings. The post office across the street was just a blur, and the police office wall you leaned against was your only marker indicating you were at the right location. Car headlights shined brightly, reflecting off the water on the road. It was all quite calming, except for the fact that you were freezing and wet.

Thankfully, the bus came slightly before its scheduled time. You scurried on and took the closest available seat. Your sweatshirt stuck to your body as if it were glued on as you tried to remove it. Eventually, you managed to remove it, feeling less like a trapped wet dog.

The bus ride was 45 minutes to the main campus. Quickly, you ran to Hanson Hall with your sweatshirt over your head, trying to protect yourself from the rain. Of course, it did nothing. But it was better than nothing.

You arrived inside and immediately entered one of the giant lecture halls. You always sat in the back near the aisle for easy access to the exit. Chemistry was long and boring, so you took frequent 'bathroom breaks' whenever things got too slow.

Shuffling around in your backpack, you found your student ID for attendance. You went to the front of the lecture hall and scanned in, the teacher assistant smiling at you as you did so.

"Good morning, y/n," he said. He sat at the table where the card reader was, the professor standing at the podium only a few feet away. You liked the TA, Taehyung, and often saw him hanging out in your hall with Jimin. He always had an infectious smile on his face.

"Good morning!" You cheerfully replied before heading back up the stairs to your seat. You were rather early to class- students from the previous class were still piling out of the lecture hall. That didn't bother you too much, as you used the few minutes to catch up on emails on your phone.

One email caught your eye. It was from Dr. Kim, reminding the class about his office hours today. You completely forgot about stopping by to see him today. Thankfully, it was still a few hours until the designated time, so you didn't feel too bad about forgetting. As you scrolled through your inbox, you kept fantasizing about having that one-on-one time with Seokjin.

Class ended a few minutes late, at ten minutes to 1 pm rather than fifteen. That didn't bother you, it just meant less time to wait for Dr. Kim's office hours. As you exited the lecture hall, a loud crack of thunder echoed throughout the building. It was still storming outside. Lucky for you, you could get to Seokjin's office through the skywalks connecting Hanson Hall, the computing building, and the humanities building. It was quite the walk between the three buildings, so you would arrive perfectly on time.

You listened to your music as you walked through the buildings, trying your best to stick in with the other students heading for class. No one ever stopped and talked to each other in the busy halls, everyone rushed to the classes or stood along the walls waiting for the previous class to dismiss. It was nice, you thought, as it eliminated the bullshit that happened in the halls of your high school.

Finally, you arrived at Dr. Kim's office on the third floor of the humanities building. Taking a deep breath, you softly knocked on the metal door.

"Come in!"

You tried to tone down your happiness and excitement as you opened the door. Seokjin sat at his desk, staring intently at his laptop, wearing his eyeglasses. He gestured for you to sit on the chair opposite him, and you did as instructed. His office was filled with books- bookshelves surrounded his office that were filled with books amongst other knick-knacks. Next to your chair was a beanbag chair, and on the other side of you was a dog bed. Did Seokjin have a dog? He seemed more like a cat person. Another chair was located next to Seokjin's own, but it was currently stacked with papers.

"Ah, y/n. Thanks for stopping by," Seokjin leaned back in his chair with a smile. He stared you up and down with half-lidded eyes. You felt as if he was mentally undressing you. Blushing, you shuffled in your seat under his gaze.

"Hi, Dr. Kim. I just had a few questions about some things."

"Hmm, is that so?" You squirmed in your seat, mouth slightly parted in a pout. Seokjin was making it quite obvious- he was interested in you. Or maybe you were just projecting your own lust onto him. What you couldn't doubt were the wandering eyes as Dr. Kim looked you up and down.

"So, you, uh, mentioned that women wrote many works during the Joseon period. I was just curious as to what they wrote about," Seokjin nodded and smiled as you spoke, intrigued by your question. He cleared the papers off the chair next to him, placing them on top of another stack on his desk.

"Come sit over here. We'll look together."

You quickly moved over to the little yellow chair, desperate to get closer to him. He fiddled around on his keyboard, typing eloquently in Korean. You understood nothing that was on the screen, making you wonder why he wanted you to change location. Once he stopped typing, finding the website he was looking for, you looked up to see his face.

He looked very happy, almost excited to share his knowledge with you. It made you feel giddy inside- you were the one making him feel this way.

"Many of the women writers were royal and noble women. They wrote down details of their daily life, private thoughts, and personal situations. And then there were female storytellers. They didn't write down their stories, only told them orally. I found a few I'd like to translate for you."

You listened as he read off a poem in Korean. His voice sounded so soothing and beautiful as he spoke, so animated and passionate. Your heart fluttered with every word and syllable- and you thought you couldn't be more infatuated with him.

"Who'd say I'm not a beauty enough, and I'm good with a needle and loom," Seokjin began translating the poem, his voice just as silky and sultry as before. You felt him shuffle in his seat next to you, scooting his chair closer to you.

"But for I come from a poor family, no good matchmaker will see me," At this point, you weren't even paying attention to his words, only the cadence as he spoke. Looking up at him, you saw his beautiful dark brown eyes behind his glasses. They were so, so dark, but this close up you could see the tint of amber brown.

"Weaving without pause into the night, the loom sobs with cold clicks, the swathe of silk on the loom shall make some lucky lady's clothes," An arm snaked around your shoulders. Seokjin's hand rested on your shoulder furthest from him, embracing you in his warmth.

At that moment, your fate was sealed. In your heart, you knew Seokjin wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You thought back to your previous two class sessions with him, and couldn't help but remember the way his eyes would always linger on you a bit longer than normal. When you looked down to write your notes or read a handout, you felt his eyes watching you. It all made sense now.

"But with the scissors in hand, my ten fingers grow stiff this cold night-"

In a blaze of passion, you turned and held Seokjin's face in your hand, turning it ever so slightly to face you. You closed your eyes, giving him a gentle and passionate kiss on his lips. His eyes grew wide in surprise, backing away from the kiss.

You panicked- was this not what he wanted? Maybe he didn't like you, and he just had a very flirtatious personality. Fearful, your eyes widened as well as you lowered your hand. Apologies spilled from your mouth, only to be hushed by his mouth back on yours.

The kiss deepened, his hands reaching towards your bottom, massaging it roughly before picking you up. He placed you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss, and you now straddled him. Eventually, Seokjin pulled away, both of you breathless.

"Dr. Kim, I-" you spoke first, trying to further apologize as embarrassment overcame you. You sat on your literature professor's lap- this was not normal.

"God, you're fucking beautiful," he placed his forehead against yours, giving you another quick peck on the lips. "I've been waiting for this, y/n. I'm so glad you took the initiative."

He brushed a hand through your hair, admiring your soft curls from the rain. He took a moment to take in the sight of you. Your red face, plump red lips, and glassy brown eyes. Perfect and disheveled, just for him.

A knock on his office door made you jump. Both of you quickly turned towards the door, hoping whoever was out there didn't barge in.

"Just a moment!" Seokjin called out. He looked back at you with a smile, making no attempt to remove you from his lap. One last peck on the lips, and you removed yourself from him.

You straightened out your clothes and grabbed your bag, giving a quick goodbye before exiting his office. On the other side of the door was Cara, who looked equally as surprised as you.

"y/n, I didn't take you as the type of student to come to office hours!" Cara said, her voice leaking with fake niceties. "I guess you should be going, huh?"

The evil, jealous glare on her face was evident, hidden behind the mask of faux happiness. She knew what you were up to because she was trying to be the same way. She shoved past you, giving Dr. Kim a pretty smile.

As you went to close the door, you took notice of Cara's outfit. She wore a white button-up blouse with a little black bow and a black skirt that rode up to mid-thigh as she sat down. Her shirt, however, was completely wet. It was now see-through, allowing everyone to see her little pink lace bra, and how her boobs spilled over in them. You gave one last glance to Dr. Kim, who now gave his attention to Cara.

Dr. Kim was a hot commodity.

#bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #teacher/student #bts smut #college au #kim namjoon #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #autumn outside the post office

36 notes · View notes