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moonlitlatte2023 · 2 months ago

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Red Carnations (m)

synopsis: District 11-- your home. Your fields to run through. Your flowers. Your everything before your name was called on that fateful day. Before you were forced into the arena. Before you fought to save your life. Before you knew you were never going to see it again. Because even a victor is never truly free, are they? Even victors are forced to fall to the will of the capitol. And you-- you especially have no choice in the matter. Not when he has fallen for you. When you've become his petal in a much-too grey world. When you're already his everything. As long as you're with him, you're still in the games, aren't you?

p.jimin x f.reader (ft. implied m.yoongi x reader)

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: wc: 9.5k

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: genre: hunger games au, yandere, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort,

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: content: capitol!jimin, victor!reader, yandere!jimin, obsession, kidnapping, toxic relationship, forced relationship, forced affection, manipulation, implied isolation, kisses mwah, reader has trauma, unreliable narrators, hunger games typical violence (though it's only at the beginning, fic begins after reader has won), jimin swears yall are soulmates frfr, future smut

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: notes: HIII!!! surprise!!! this is my love letter to the hunger games lol <33 requests are coming soon I prommie!!! :33 they are in my drafts as we speak!! planning on this becoming a series too, so stay tuned if you guys are interested!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The world is spinning– everything is shaking. Air is passing through your lungs, the sound panting through your teeth, yet you’re not entirely sure anything is happening at all. Not cognizant of anything around you, of yourself as you struggle. As you fight. As you move to grasp a single straw from the man pinning you to the ground, baring his teeth in your face.

You remember his hand, the way it reaches down almost as if in slow motion. Coming closer. Ready to grab your forehead. Ready to raise it and bash it into the ground below. Over and over again until you’re no more. Until the crops drop and weep to a shade of grey. To finally kill you. To put you out of this misery.

Allow you to leave painfully, yet with all the grace a man starved from another district could allow. Gracefully. Right.

You knew you fought your hardest until the end. Really, you do.

You hope your parents will be proud of you when you arrive home in those little metal boxes filled with ash. Hope they know how hard you fought to come back to them– to be with them once again. Hopefully your big sister will remember all the ways you tried to fight flowers in her hair when you were meant to be working. Hope your mom and dad remember the way you made sure to dye all your white clothes bright with colours of nature.

Maybe if you were more of a singer you’d comfort yourself with a tune, but you don’t know many songs. Your brother was always more creative. He made sure you knew it. You– you were just a girl of the buds. Nothing more, nothing less. Only glad to be the last child your family had of reaping age. At least they wouldn’t incur anymore loss, would they?

They’ve already watched you go mad. Nothing can be worse than watching their own daughter do what she needs to survive. Only a pity it had to be the last drawing before she was safe, too.

No, the fate before you is one that had been told too many times before. You were never a victor, you knew that. You were meant to be another pitying girl swept away by the slaughter. And that’s okay. You’re okay.

So, the question remains. How did that knife end up in his neck?

Did you do it? You don’t remember doing it. You don’t remember the movement your arm had to have made, or the way it must’ve felt to sink the knife in. You don’t remember much of anything to be honest but oh– oh, he’s fallen off of you. You can move. You can move!!

The shock remains present within you, though. You barely haggard a quick shuffle back, a hand clutching the skin where your heart lies. Your eyes are jittering, frantic. Looking. Trying to see, to make sense of what is happening around you.

Is anyone else coming? Wait– no, that wouldn’t make sense. No, it wouldn’t. You’re the last two alive. Alive? Are you? Wait, hold on. What is happening. What is happening. What is happening. You were going to die– he was going to kill you. But you moved, or maybe, you guess, he let up? But did you, did you really just stab him? Did you just–

There’s blood on your hand.

Bang.

That's the sound. That’s the sound!

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

You won.

Trumpets are playing, maybe the capitol anthem. You can’t seem to hear it, not really at least.

No, all you hear is your lungs finally filling with air for the first time in a long time. For the first time since your name was called at the reaping. For the first time since you turned 12.

The next thing you hear is the breeze. Maybe the whole arena is taking a breath since these games started, too.

You look around, try to take in your surroundings. Feel the way the world inhales and exhales along with you. Make yourself finally feel one again after the days that all seem to morph together.

Huh.

Strange shapes crest over the horizon, the ground underneath your scraped limbs feels foreign. The scents that travel are a mystery and the skyline is nothing you’ve ever seen before. You don’t recognise anything. Almost as if you haven’t been here the last 6 days. As if nothing is real.

But it is. You know it is. The pain shooting through every inch of your being tells you as much– tells you everything of the stories you can’t seem to remember. Right along with the loudspeakers, the voice of Octavia Flickerman reigning supreme.

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the winner of the One-Hundred Eleventh Hunger Games! (Y/n) (L/n) of District 11!”

You won!! Oh!!! You won!!!!

Jimin practically squeals, jumps from his seat as he watches the screen. His arms flying into the air, brain spinning as adrenaline from the entire event courses through him. Finally settles into a gentle lull as he knows for certain that you’re alive.

He knew you would!! Of course he did! He would never want you to think otherwise, no. He knew from the second he saw your face projected into his apartment on reaping day that you would. Was sure of it when he sat front and centre at the parade, waving to you and only you.

Knew for certain (as if he wasn’t before, duh!) during the interviews when he first heard you speak. The cadence of your voice as you spoke into the microphone– your quipped yet nervous replies as the latest Flickerman worked you into a more relaxed state.

Your shy smiles, the flattery of your dress. Just!! Everything!!

Oh– how enchanting you were!! He knew the rest of the capitol thought so, too. He made sure of it. He knew to make you the star because of course you would be coming back alive.

He knew you would win.

You would be a fool not to with all the gifts he sent you, silly!! They may have cost anyone else a small fortune, but it was nothing for him, so you shouldn’t worry! He’d be sure to remind you of that the next time you meet. He knows you’re kind. He knows you’d feel some sort of guilt.

Oh!! But that doesn’t matter! He much rather thinks about how cute you were on your first day in the arena. How confused and bewildered you looked when his gifts started floating down from the sky. You ran from the center right away, of course you would, because you’re just so smart! But that meant you had nothing.

He didn’t want you to have nothing!!

Blah blah blah, your mentor wanted to wait a bit. Save any money pooled your way. But with Jimin funding everything, why did that even matter?

Soon, you were caked in more weapons than you knew what to do with. It was just too. Fucking. Cute.

You should only be covered in things from him from now on. He was sure of it when you stood there in the arena, trying to figure out how to tote around a spear, bow, sword, knife, club, and a pack full of food, and he’s even more sure of it now. You used his knife to win the games.

His gift he watched you take care of, cherish over the last 6 days.

It’s almost like he was right in there with you! Supporting you, helping you! He couldn’t even sleep the last days, knowing you were in there, scared.

My, he understands now why the skies saved you for him. You two truly are a match made for everyone to bear witness to you.

And now!! Now that you won he knows your fates were set out for in the stars.

He’s just so proud!! So– so proud of you!!

Soon!! Soon he can be with you! He promises, okay?

He knows Namjoon and Taehyung– the former more than the latter, will make him wait a bit before he actually can have you. There are duties you have to attend to, after all! Responsibilities! And he knows you wouldn’t want to neglect those. You’re very accountable like that, he knows it.

But that’s okay! He can be patient. He’s waited his whole life for you– 23 years to be exact! He can wait a little more. Wait for the right moment.

He knows you’ll be hurting from having to wait, too. It’s been so long since you last spoke! You really should have kept up better with your letters, you know!! You’re lucky he even remembered your name!!

He’ll have to scold you for that later– his cheeks puffed out in that way he just knows you’ll find adorable~

Ah!! But he’ll get to see you at the capitol parties!! Won’t that be fun? He’s sure of it! You two will get to dance and fall in love all over again. Taehyung will swoon and wonder when it’ll be his chance at love while Namjoon– well, Namjoon will probably be doting after his latest project or networking with politicians. But he’ll definitely want to hear all about everything from Jimin later!

Oh, he knows you’ll just look so sweet then.

Uhg. But now he just has to wait.

Disgusting it is, being without you for even a second longer.

Disgusting it is, that the eyes of the rest of the world get to bear witness to your beauty, as well.

Fucking peasants.

Namjoon should just let him have you. This whole thing is just ridiculous. Why should he have to wait when you’re soulmates? Why should you be kept from him? All of it is moronic and Namjoon wouldn’t understand the meaning of such love if it slapped him across the face.

Annoying.

Whatever.

…

Oh!! He can rewatch your pre-games interviews again!! Or your reaping– ooo.. He does love watching your reaping.

Or maybe!! Maybe the chariot ride when you wave at him– because he’s sure for a moment then you two locked eyes. And he knows you felt the spark then, too.

Or maybe he should rewatch his favourite scenes from the last 6 days, no matter how fresh in his mind they are. Watch as you become the perfect victor.

Or maybe he should go to the salon again! Get his pink hair fluffed up to perfection! Maybe the shops to get more new clothes for you! Oh, you probably wouldn’t know the renaissance is back in fashion, would you? Hmm, do you know what the renaissance is? What do they teach you in district schools?

Well!! It doesn’t matter! He can ask you soon, and he’s willing to teach you anything, regardless!!

Hmm hmm hmm…

Oh! Oh! Oh! Or maybe he should go around and clean his home again– make sure the apartment is just perfect for you! He knows you’ll love it already, but you know, it never hurts to do a little extra for the one you love!

Oh! He’s so excited to have you home! So, so excited! He just can’t wait! He can’t!

Solid memories, you realise, are hard to come by these days. There are things you think you know, of course. But nothing you can really wire down. Firm up into reality that isn’t mistied by some hazy expanse in the distance.

You remember the capitol– there were parties in your honor, an exit interview. You think you can see yourself rewatching a few clips of the games but… to be honest, it all feels as if you’re looking back in third person. The ghost of yourself watching a shell without a face. Maybe reacting, maybe sitting there in silence. You’re not really sure.

Though, you know all of it happened regardless of what your brain may distance from you. You know it did. But again, memories are… tricky. To say the least.

The next solid one you have after your games, you’re still at the capitol. Still at the world filled with glimmer and gleam. You remember sitting in the shower, water pounding against your skin as the world all to suddenly feels whole again. For the first time in weeks it feels as if you’re wearing your own skin, seeing things through your own eyes.

You remember your eyes casting down upon your hands. Droplets congregate on your palms as you have your first conscious thought since the night those games ended. Since the world became a mist no one would be able to see through.

You’re going home.

The realization is awe-inspiring. Stuttering, really. You know, then, that soon– in just a few days– you’ll be returning to District 11. You’ll be with your flowers and your bees. You’ll be able to walk through the tall grasses that fill your heart. Be able to see the sunset against the horizon and pretend as if you’re a bird dancing among those clouds.

You’ll be able to see your family again. To feel their hugs and listen to their stories. You’ll be their daughter again. Not a box of ash on the mantle, not a tale to avoid especially on the most harrowing nights. You’ll be free from the games. Your family will be free from the games.

You’ll see him.

You’ll see Yoongi.

He gave you a book on the old language of flowers— one of the last few standing after the history of before was erased from the public's eye. The original meaning of petals bound in worn leather, pages dried with colours of pressed flowers in their wake. In their entire glory for only you and him to see. To have together. Antiquities of a time you’ve never known, would never know save for the stories that were hushed in whispers of your attic walls between your voices alone.

The new language of flowers was something you didn’t like as much, not after learning the true words they spoke. Highly published novels depicting a different tale then the ones they murmured to you out in the fields. A language that was a lot more angry, spiteful. Filled with resentment of a darker time that bled into even the most beautiful, innocent things.

The book he gave you now held more meaning than ever before. While you don’t know much, you know that for certain.

You’ll have that book in your hands again soon. Him in your grasp again— soon.

Tears are in your eyes faster than you can blink them away. Sobs of a simple babe leaving your mouth for no one in the capitol to see. Just for yourself. Just for you, in your shower. Pathetic hands moving to try and wipe them away, yet there really is no hope. Tears will continue to flow, just as the sun will rise.

You needed this more than you could ever know. More than anyone would ever know.

Because then the thought is in your head again– about what you had to do to live. To survive. And for some strange reason, when you pull your hands away from your eyes, they look like they’re covered in red again. That boy in the arenas’ red. Your allies’ red. Strangers you didn’t know in the slightest’ red. The pasts’ red.

Tears continue to fall, but for a different reason now.

You’re out of your body again, and you think you might just stay there for a while. Until all of it just stops.

Fuck whatever the hell Namjoon says, actually. Jimin doesn’t give a shit anymore. Jimin doesn’t care about waiting for the “right time” or when you’re more “susceptible” (as if you even need to be!). You need to come home now. You have to.

He can’t just– he can’t just watch you destroy yourself like this in isolation! Especially when you have a warm, loving home to come home to. When he can support you.

Fuck that. He can’t watch this any longer.

This is all his fault, for going out earlier that day. Arriving home later than normal– missing your dinner together entirely. Oh, you’re probably so lonely without knowing he’s watching through the security cameras. Oh-so lonely.

That’s why you’re crying in the bathroom, that’s why you’re hurting inside. Because you’re so alone. Because you have no one when you need him.

You haven’t cried this entire time! There’s no other explanation as to why you’d be breaking down now! On the one day he didn’t have time to spend watching the cameras every waking second!

He always wakes up with you, falls asleep with you. Eats with you, showers with you. Does everything with you! Fuck! How could he be so stupid! How could he be so neglectful! He’s an awful boyfriend! Awful! Awful! Awful!

He can’t just watch you like this anymore. He doesn’t care if you’re more distressed, distraught– whatever. He’ll deal with that then. But you’re crying and it hurts him just as harshly as it does you.

He doesn’t even realise the tears that well in his own eyes. The stinging pain of his nails digging into his palm.

Fuck Namjoon. This is his fault! It is! He’s the one that kept you from him! He’s the one that’s been insisting on your isolation until the “right time”-- whatever the hell that is!

This is all his fault!

You’re so scared. So lonely. So heartbroken.

He’s going to save you. To help you. To bring you home.

Namjoon and Taehyung– they’ll understand, right..? He’s sure they will. They would do the same thing for their soulmates. He knows they would. Taehyung would do it in a second for his fletchling that got away! He could never be mad at Jimin! Never ever!

And Namjoon, Jimin knows that he was just doing what he thought was best– trying to help. But Jimin knows best when it comes to you.

He knows it's time for you to come home, even if it is a little more difficult. He can take it, he knows he can.

Jimin sniffles, wiping the underside of his nose as he mops up his lousy expression. Reminding himself that all of this is okay– at least it will be soon. When you’re with him. When you’re in his arms. Safe from the rest of the world.

Safe because of him.

The scent of sweet linen fills your nostrils to the very brim. Gentle fabrics twist in your palms, head leavered to the side, shoving your face even deeper into the too-soft sheets.

It smells almost like home. Like the fresh flowers you’d pick every morning to put on the table– the lilac, sweet pea, and babies breath mixture you made most often for the neighbours.

Something… Something is off. Something… artificial. But you choose to ignore that fact for the simple instance of staying sane. For the ability to lull your mind into a simpler place– a simpler time. A place before the games. A place so wonderful you don’t even allow yourself to dream of it anymore. Home.

Maybe that was your first mistake, thinking you might return to that place for even a moment.

Maybe it was a lot of things. It could have been imagining you just missed the entire train ride home– that you didn’t fall asleep in your stupid capitol apartment last night. Maybe it was thinking your mom’s bed could even afford such soft cottons to warm the lonely nights. Maybe it was letting your guard down for even a second, missing the footsteps that travel through the door.

Maybe it was missing a whole slew of other signs.

You’re too tired to know. Too tired to care.

Well, that is until a sing-song pitch feels like it breaks the sound barrier. Feels like it shatters your disillusioned peaceful world into a disarray of shards you can’t glue back together. Sends you tumbling from the bed, startling you. Making you remember exactly how you felt in those games all over again.

“Petal~ Are you awake yet, my love? Oh my–” He seems just as shaken as you as he watches you bolt from the bed. Startling back a few steps as you roll to the floor assuming a crouched, almost predatory position. Your hair messy, lips puffy from sleep. Eyes wide, almost unnerving as you try to take him in.

“Ah~” He resumes his original state, the one he had before you spooked him. One more relaxed– more carefree than you would ever be able to hold. A tray of food in his grip, filled to the brim with foods that used to be your favourites.

Food has tasted dull for awhile now.

“My, I must’ve scared you. I’m sorry, little petal.” He hums quietly, ignoring your flighty state instead focusing his path to the end of the bed– a bed you don’t recognise in the slightest. You’re not in any home that you’ve ever known. “I know, it must be pretty startling, hmm? I wanted to wake up in bed with you, but I didn’t think that would be the best idea.”

He lends a giggle to himself, though you can’t understand the humour in his words. Not when you’re reeling. Eyes darting around, taking in the scenery around you. The grandiose bedroom piled high with the most comfort the capitol can offer. A large bed in the center of the room– the bed you were just in. A large window taking space of the entire wall, giving view of the city down below.

How did you get here? What is going on? Who the actual fuck is this guy? How does he know you?

Well, the last question is easy enough to answer. How does anyone know you? The games of course. Your new victor status lends the title of celebrity.

You miss the days you were no one now more than ever. You need to get out.

Your eyes dart between his figure, now perched on the end of the bed next to the tray of food and the door. Could you make it past him? Beat him in a race? Sure, he looks taller than you. But from your position on the floor– practically in a runners start already, you’re sure you could beat anyone in the capitol who’s never had to work a day in their life.

What would you do after you make it out that door? You’re not sure. But you need to put more distance between yourself and this– this psychopath.

“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you, love.” His voice is light, airy. Your mother would say he sounds like a songbird, however, you know that isn’t true. Only the capitol-created mutts would observe you as he is now. Close, pointnet. “The doorway has a sensor. I go through it, I’m fine. You— bzzt!!”

He grabs his collar, shaking a little to give off the appearance of being electrocuted, giving a light laugh at the end to show humour. What part of this is meant to be fucking funny?! You– you!! He kidnapped you!! What part of that is fucking funny!!

You feel heat in your face, air exhaling a notch faster than before as anger rises higher in your being. Who the fuck does he think he is?! You would be a fool not to go for it anyway. An idiot to just trust this man's words without a second thought.

“Not enough to kill you but–” You bolt for the doorway, running as fast and as hard as you can. Though, it doesn’t last long. The man did not lie, and you are frozen in place the second an inch of your frame has made it through the passage. A current shooting through your being, freezing you in place. Causing you to crumple to the floor without even a second's notice.

The pain is burning, though not as strong as you expected such a force to be. You don’t understand capitol technology, and you don’t want to. You don’t want to know how it could hurt so bad yet not hurt at all at the same time. How it could completely immobilise you yet feel as though it didn’t do any real damage.

A simple shock to your system, as he presumed this whole thing would be.

He tuts out a soft sigh as he watches you fall, standing from his place on the bed and allowing his legs to carry him to your form. “I told you petal, I wouldn’t recommend trying. It’s okay though– I expected this.”

He hums, easily scooping your body into his arms. And as much as you want to run, to push him away, to strangle him– you can’t move a muscle. Limp in his arms, useless to him moving you into bed, tucking you back under the sheets. All save for your face, and maybe your voice. Though, you haven’t tried to use that yet.

“Oh– don’t look at me like that!” He giggles, placing your body upright in bed. Back against the headboard, blankets pulled to your hips. You think you hate the smell of them now more than anything else. “You’ll be able to move again soon, I promise. 10-15 minutes max? I’m not sure the details– Joon set it up for me. I didn’t want to!”

He looks at you seriously now, almost a complete change in his demeanour. His hands moving to clench your unmoving ones, his eyes staring straight into your own still set in a glare. “I knew you would love me right away, petal. I promise. I didn’t think you would run. But Joon said it would be better to be safe than sorry, you know? And I didn’t want you to get hurt with all the shock this change would be! You understand, right?”

You don’t know what the fuck a Joon is or the bullshit the man in front of you is spewing. You don’t even know why he’s spitting it!! You don’t even know him!! You’ve never seen him before in your life!! A thousand words well up in your throat at once, yet you’re not sure which ones want to leave first. Hatred, as well as that puppy-dog look you already have come to despise forces your hand. You want him off of you– away from you. To give you a moment to think and to figure out all of his nonsense!!

“Fuck you.” Is all you can manage between your teeth, though you want to will so much more. Want to let loose every stupid, horrible thing you’ve thought since you first arrived in the capitol. The words you wanted to say during all of your interviews– the words that wouldn’t gain you sponsors or support.

Maybe you should have said them back then, maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position now.

Oh, you hate that he only smiles at your words. Moves, instead, to grab the tray of food abandoned at the edge of the bed. “They’ll be plenty of time for that later, petal.”

You know it’s meant to be a tease– the way he says it puts no real meaning behind his words. But their simple utterance leaves you wanting to spasm. To will your body to move– to make him not threaten you like that again. To yell, to scream, to throw fists his way. To throw him out that giant window. The one that taunts you of your freedom.

“No! No–! There won’t be!” You almost shout, attempting to force your body to move. To twist any part of it. To gain back any level of control. Slap that giggle that spills from his lips. “Who the– Who the fuck are you?!”

Your voice is practically a growl, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact he's– he’s jovial? His shoulders shake with amusement while his eyes crest with joy. And you, you hate every second of it.

“Ah~ There’s the petal I know!” He hums, cutting away at the pancakes below. Plucking a few pieces onto a fork, bringing it closer to your lips, “Though, if I’m being honest, I’m a little hurt you don’t remember me, my love! We’ve had so much fun together!!”

His expression softens now, almost appearing wounded. Like you had stabbed him somewhere you couldn’t even begin to explain. It only enrages you further, to be honest. Though, nothing to do about that now. You’ve already boiled over.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I don’t know you!! We’ve never–” He takes that moment to shove the fluffy bread between your lips, knowing otherwise he would not have the chance. He takes his other hand, placing it on your lower jaw before you have the chance to spit it out. You hate how he seems to know your actions before you know them yourself. You hate everything about him.

“You need to eat.” His tone is harsh again. It switches so easily– everything about him does, honestly. It confuses you, but there isn’t much time to spend on that thought at the moment, is there? Not with a psycho in the room. Not with everything happening.

You still don’t follow his direction. Instead just hold it between your lips, not chewing. It gives you some sense of control you otherwise lacked in every other way. Gives you an ounce of strength.

“Chew. Or else you’ll be on a liquid diet. Neither of us want that.” The way he looks at you now sends a chill down your spine. Eyes half lidded, almost in a glare. Jaw set harshly in place, puffy lips pulled in slightly.

You feel like you’re in the arena again.

Maybe you never left.

“Eat. And I’ll answer your questions.” Begrudgingly, you oblige. Though it doesn’t come without some force, humiliation burns through as you actually listen to what he tells you. As you follow his command.

You want to die, maybe.

Or that could just be the shame that runs through your veins.

You’ve never been a strong person, you don’t think. And the thought feels even more apparent now. Your ally in the games– she would’ve never done what he said. You know that. She was strong. She always listened to her own conscience above all else. She would’ve never given in over a threat and a promise, while you, at least on the inside, feel as if that’s all it ever takes.

A threat and a promise.

You hate it. Even more so when his personality does a complete 180 once again. When he starts praising you. When he hops up next to you on the bed and nestles you into his side. Especially when he plants a kiss on the top of your head, telling you how good you are. How he just knew you wanted to please him and that there's no reason to pretend.

“See, baby? I just knew you could do it. I knew our little rough patch wouldn’t last long, would it? See, you’re already so good for me. Just the perfect little thing like I knew you would be, yeah? Wow~” His lips against your head feel like the first soft thing you’ve felt in the last month. You hate it. “What a perfect little Victor for me baby, you know that? C’mon! Let's eat up lots! I hate how much weight you’ve been losing since you got here from the districts. It’s so sad.”

You want to sob, actually. Burning humiliation feels unbridled in your core. You hate that you can’t push him away. That you can’t get away. Why does such a simple action of chewing food feel like so much more? Why does everything feel like so much more?

You want to go home. You want to be among your flowers and your best friend.

The fork is in front of your mouth again.

This time, you take it without a fight. Already knowing it will be going in your mouth, regardless. Especially in this new, feeble position. His arm around your shoulder, your legs soon tugged onto his lap the same.

“Who are you.” You ask again, hatred in your tone. Though he ignores it completely, instead favouring to focus on the way you took his offering without much physical fight. He could tell the mental one was burdensome, though there will be time to deal with that later.

He smiles at you, though you choose to focus on a spot through the window in the far distance. Hoping against all hope it is the glimmer of the sun rather than a hologram pasted on the glass.

“Jimin. My name is Jimin. Remember it this time, okay petal?” He says softly, as though it was just for you to hear.

You wish it wasn’t.

You wish it was at some sort of public hanging for the world to hear for kidnapping the Capitol’s much favoured victor. You wish he was being hung while you were in the arms of your best friend instead, far away from the entire mess. Far away from everything.

Why hasn’t your mind locked you away again? Made you incapacitated– a drop among the flowing river? Why did it have to make you so aware, now, when it was all you had ever hoped for before? Why couldn’t it lock away these memories like it did for those in the games?

The answer is obvious.

You’re still in them. Maybe not physically, but mentally, now more than ever, you’re in those games. Except now, the only enemy is one and if you make it out, there would be no trumpets signalling your victory.

There is no victory in these games, is there?

“Hmm, you’ve had a hard morning, haven’t you?” He’s still being soft. Still slowly feeding you bites of food you want nothing to do with while his other hand gently traces circles on your ankle. At least you’re still wearing the clothes you fell asleep in. You have that to be thankful for. “I’m sorry for scaring you so badly, I hoped the scents would calm you down but I guess I was wrong.”

You finally spare a glance his way, noticing his lips in a pout. He has nothing to be sad for, you know it to be true. So why is he acting like the burden of the world is on his shoulders? You have not a clue, nor a care. Though you keep yourself quiet all the same, knowing any words you say might set him off– especially the unkind ones you think.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.” He smiles again, eyes cresting into half circles. His lips finding your hair once again, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. It makes you want to gag– want to cry in the way it mimics your mothers. But there's nothing you can do. Absolutely nothing for at least another 3 minutes. But where will you go– what will you do once that time does pass? You need to be smart about this.

You can’t run. You can’t leave this room without being paralyzed. You could grab a fork, you could stab–

Your eyes automatically trail down to your hands, as if they expect the red to still be there. As if you didn’t scrub it away countless times, a new red in its place. Raw and irritated, painful.

…

What will you do when the time passes?

The urge to scratch at your hands once again is insurmountable. An itch pulling behind your eyes as a meager way to force away the visions of that career in your face. Of his expression as blood dribbled from the side of his lips, eyes becoming hollow against the sandy ground.

You force your eyelids closed. Pressing them together. Willing away the picture of at least 12 other tributes– the slaughters you witnessed first hand. The colour draining from their skin from where you hid. The emptiness where there once held life.

You watched them smiling in training. You ate with a few. They were real people with real lives and now they are dead and you’re alive.

You want it to go away. You want it all to go away.

…

You’re not sure what you can do once the time passes. The wails in your ears at the mere thought of stabbing him are evidence of that enough.

You need more time to think.

“Why?” The question hangs heavy in their air, almost so quietly you’re not sure it left your own lips. You don’t remember it leaving them, surely. Nevertheless, willing them to move– but the question found its way out on its own.

You don’t know if you want an answer, but you can’t force it back in.

“Why?” Jimin, your captor, hums. His thumb tapping gently against your ankle bone in a way that you assume is meant to soothe. He takes a moment– thinking, contemplating, before a smile so bright it could be the sun itself takes over his expression. One filled with care, with such soft admiration you’ve only ever seen on one person before.

“Because I love you, of course. You love me too. You promised.”

The days– no, weeks, that follow are, disappointingly, similar to your first. An almost-routine forming between you and Jimin. Horrible, unnerving Jimin. Wake up every morning all-too aware, force yourself from his too-tight grip he’s managed to pull you into while you slept. Check the exits to see if they’re still locked or shocked. Eat breakfast with Jimin, deal with his mood-swings and tantrums.

Eventually he leaves for work– not before he clings to you again, whining about how he doesn’t want to go. You lash out, yell at him to stop touching you– you hate when he touches you– after which he either cries or gets mad. Whimpers about how he doesn’t understand why you’re being so mean. Why you hate him.

A little kid being refused their favourite toy, maybe. The same way your little brother might’ve done the same.

He’s got some sort of twisted reality, that's all you know. Has convinced himself you’ve loved each other for years, that you two are meant to be some sort of fairytale. That it’s fate you were drawn that day– something about letters. You have no clue how he’s come to that conclusion, nor find yourself wanting to delve into it. All you do know is that it’s tiring, too tiring.

To be honest, when he cries like that in the mornings, it almost makes you feel bad. Almost, because you’re not stupid. You know what’s real. You know that before he took you, you had never seen him in your life. You made no promises like he swears, you never showed him any sort of inclination otherwise.

On the other hand, it's clear he’s sick in the head. Clear that something in the capitol deluded him into believing whatever… this is. Maybe he’s never known what actual love is– you doubt the capitol knows anything about that. Maybe it was his friends you’ve been forced to hear about, maybe it’s just, everything else.

Either way, you wouldn’t know. He doesn’t talk much about himself– nor his family. He doesn’t talk about visiting them or introducing them to you the same way he does his best friends.Two people you’ve never met yet already hate. An already-assumed air to the presidency and the head gamemaker– Taehyung, Namjoon.

You really did get lucky with your captor, huh? Well, you knew he had to be in high places for the wealth he assumes. The wealth he practically forced on you in the arena.

Oh, the realization he had been the one to dump food and weapons on you was a sobering one indeed.

You often wonder where it comes from. What he had to do to become so rich when back home, all your family had to their name was a small two bedroom cottage in the far-reaches of town. When your father would become so skinny during the winter months that you found yourself sleeping next to his bed, afraid he might not wake up in the morning.

It had been worse when your parents were little, or so you were told. The capitol used to be worse– more vicious. Something about an almost uprising. An agreement made when a mockingjay flew. You’re not sure, it sounded like some sort of strange symbolism when your teacher spoke the words. And back then, when you were young, you didn’t care about the symbolism of birds. Flowers were much more your heart.

What did the capitol kids learn in school? Did they have it? Or were they already assumed geniuses. A silver spoon born into the mouths of the wealthy, their paths laid out by birthright alone. Never having to worry, never having to struggle. Jimin is most definitely the same, regardless.

Spite is an emotion often had, along with too many others.

You have too much time to think here. Too much time to reflect on your inability to act. Why you’re cursed with visions whenever you so much as have a passing thought about killing Jimin to get away.

Though, maybe it’s a blessing, in a way. What would you do if you did manage such a feat? Run with his friends tailing behind you? Find some way out of the capitol? Risk the lives of everyone you love by somehow returning home with nothing to your name? How would you even leave the apartment? Sure, he normally turns the bedroom shocks off during the day so you can roam, but you know the same device stands at the front door.

The windows are too tall to leap from, no fire escapes in sight. You would be stupid to not assume he already planned for you to try and kill him. Maybe if he dies the entire apartment explodes. Maybe he’s got some sort of medical implant that could patch all wounds instantly. You have no clue what kind of technology the capitol holds, much less one of its most important citizens.

What you can assume? He dies, you die with him.

You’re not sure if you could kill him anyway.

So there you are left, planning. Forced to listen to him. His day, his life. His friends. You. The people he deems actually important to his life, you presume.

Then there are his plans– what he wants to do with you that day, dates he hopes to take you on after you finally accept him. Proposals. Marriage. All things that twist your stomach– make it ache.

Of course, he asks questions, too. Makes it appear as though he actually wants to get to know you better. What a joke. This whole thing feels like one. Like some type of dream you won't be able to escape no matter how hard you thrash under the covers.

Most of the time, you find it easier not to answer. If you say nothing, he can’t use it against you. Can’t turn it into a tantrum from a wrong answer or stare at you with those warm-brown eyes while you open your soul. Can’t take a mile when you only bare him an inch.

You never can tell what he is thinking.

What you do know? He looks so pathetic when he cries during those times you decide to let hate fill your heart. When the band inside finally snaps and you just can’t take anymore of this. The demon clawing out from your abdomen, spewing vile from your lips before you can even think of what you’re truly saying.

Oh, how clings to your legs, looks up at you with tears streaming down his face. His perfectly styled pink hair a wreck, his puffy cheeks flushed red. Veins in his neck straining. Begging, pleading for you to just love him. For you to come to him like he does you, to crave him like he does you. For you to just say you didn’t mean it. To please, please just not hate him. He just can’t take it. You’re soulmates. You’re meant to be. You can’t hate him, you can’t.

Maybe sometimes you feel a small ounce of sympathy when he gets like that, knowing that you caused it. Humanity thriving within you when, at this point, in most it would be squandered away.

You feel too much lately, to be honest.

Though, that little bit of pity, small and waning, is wiped away all the same when he forces you to sit in bed with him at night. Most nights he’s able to hold you due to the same zap you receive every time you try to run out that door– still believing it would be stupid to not try. Others, it's because you’re simply too tired to fight him. Because it’s easier not to.

Either way, the result of your compliance forced or not is the same. Your frame tucked into his side, legs across his lap. His arm pulling you close, tucking the top of your head into his neck. All the while he plays reruns of your games, your interviews, your reaping.

He smiles watching them, eyes casting a fond glow on the projection of your nightmare. The things you wish you didn’t have to do.

You hate that you can see the fondness in his expression, especially. Makes his words seem even more true, that he wholeheartedly believes them. Whenever you appear on screen, his expression lights. His lips quirking whenever he urges you to watch– that his favourite part is coming.

He seems to have a lot of favourite parts.

At least it fills in a lot of gaps in your memory– maybe that’s one good that comes of it. Or maybe it’s another negative. Something that should be forgotten for your own sanity. That’s what your brain thought at least but now… You’re not really sure anymore, to be honest. It’s hard to keep things straight when you’re stuck in this apartment. When everything else your head is doing to protect you is oh-so-tiring.

You remember him showing you your reaping a month after arriving at his apartment– one of the projections you seem to have forgotten completely. A day entirely forgotten returned to you all-too quick. A shot straight to the heart.

You were standing there in line, waiting to have your face and fingerprints scanned for attendance. Hair a little wild, dress bustling in the wind. You watched as you walked forward, as they took you into the system. Corralled you into the area reserved for the oldest age group.

You feel like you look so young then, or at least felt a million years younger than you do now. So happy, so carefree. Waiting for the whole drawing to just be over so you could be free of it. Finally free of it. Of everything.

Fuck, your final reaping, too. How pathetic.

“You looked so pretty for me then, petal. That’s when I recognised your name.” Jimin whispered to you, nuzzling his face in your hair. Yet you paid little mind– eyes glued to the screen as the scenes shifted, bringing you directly to the drawing.

Hearing your name called, your face displayed on the screen was entirely mind-altering, to say the least. The girl on the screen is no longer you– maybe a body double, maybe a secret twin. It doesn’t matter which, because that girl, no. She doesn’t feel like you in the slightest. You don’t remember any of it happening at all.

Back then, you remember how your legs stumbled as they carried you. How they shook with terror. The world was ending, you were sure of it. You knew it was. But the girl on screen is confident. She’s bold. She bares an expression of neutrality– posture held high, chin up against the winds with a red carnation tucked behind her ear.

He tucked that flower behind your ear that morning, you know that for sure. It was tradition that he would. Petals tucked in your tresses, the promise of researching their meaning when you two departed.

Maybe you should have done so before the reaping that day– maybe that was another mistake.

Either way, it doesn’t matter now. Now you’re tucked in the arm of a deluded capitol boy who bought you from the president, being forced to watch the screen as it changes to something you were never meant to witness.

The camera cuts to a scene in the crowd. A group of 6 standing together, holding each other. Mother, Father, Sister, Brother-in-Law, Brother, Sister-in-Law-to-be all joined together to watch their last family members very last reaping.

Your heart shatters as you hear the syllables of your name called once again.

The shock, the horror. The terror. The tears. The realization that you were going into the games. You watched from your seat in the capitol as your mother crumpled in on herself– as your brother fell right alongside her. Trying to hold her, trying to console her while your father just stood in utter shock. Frozen in place from his daughter being taken from him.

He always did say your family was too lucky, to prepare for the worst. When you were young, it was a joke. But on that day it wasn’t, no. It was every nightmare a reality.

Your family’s realization they would never see you run amongst the fields again. Hope already mist in the wind. That’s what it was.

Then, then the weight of ten-thousand bodies feels as though it has fallen onto your shoulders.

The camera cut to him. Your best friend. Your Yoongi. The man who tucked the flower in your hair, who made you promise to come back to him. The man who said he would do anything for you facing the one thing he couldn’t do anything against.

You don’t even know how the cameramen knew to film him in that moment, but you wish they didn’t. You wish against all else that you would’ve never had to see his face like that.

This is the worst thing you could have seen. That Jimin is making you see. Worse than making you rewatch your games with that sickening smile on his face. Worse than making you relive the other lives you had to take in that arena with the weapons Jimin provided through sponsorship. Worse than finding out he had been privy to all the cameras in your capitol apartment.

No, seeing Yoongi again was worse than anything else. Especially knowing you would never see him again.

At least during the games you knew you had a chance. Now, it feels like you have none.

He’s gone.

You can’t stop the tears, from forcing your gaze away from the screen and hiding your face in Jimin’s neck. From breaking down against him– your captor, yet at the same time your only source of comfort.

Maybe that's what he wanted. Maybe that was the point of all of this. You don’t know anything other than the pounding of your head and the burn of your lungs as it tries to pull in air. The static that runs through the wires of your brain as it shuts down, succumbing to the pain. The hurt of just– everything.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay~” He tries to calm you, yet it does nothing. Your wails only grow louder. Nails scratching, grabbing for anything in their reach. Finding home in his loose linen shirt.

If you were any more sane, maybe you would know he was panicked in that moment too. Scrambling with what to do, how to console you. Eyes darting as he manages your form, tries to discern what to do or say. “That’s enough for today, I think…”

He turns off the tv, you know that. You thank the skies for it. You don’t think you could listen to your supposedly private goodbyes with your family and Yoongi at that moment. You think that might just break you entirely.

The actions that follow are foreign. Too consumed in your grief, you’re not sure how you wound up on his lap. How your body found itself clinging to him entirely. You’re sure of the sound of his voice, though. The way it gently shushes your cries with a smooth hum. Trying to comfort, to soothe while he strokes the top of your head with one hand. The other rubbing circles into your hip as you cry.

The terrible part? You let him.

You let him mumble into your hair. You let him be your support when he was the very thing keeping you away from them. The very being holding you hostage when you should be in the victory village with them. When you should be with Yoongi.

It’s too bad, but you really can’t help it. Honestly. Everything inside of you that you’ve been holding onto for so very long is flushing from your system all at once. Waves of emotion from the reaping, the games, the kidnapping have overflowed, and without something solid, you might have drowned. May have been washed away in a haze of memories you’re unable to come back from.

Can you really be blamed for letting the fire of hatred be quelled for only a night when a tsunami is about to pull you under?

“It’s okay petal, let it out. You needed all of this, hmm? I’m so sorry for upsetting you, baby. I had no clue it would, I swear. I’ll never do something like that again, okay? I don’t want you to hate me, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know your heart was still all the way back there, okay?”

During the entire time you’ve been in the capitol, not a sole has offered you a single ounce of comfort. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to just let him. To let him comfort you. To let him take care of you. No matter how humiliating or awful it will feel tomorrow, you’re too tired to care.

You’re so tired of fighting. Why do you have to keep fighting? Why you?

“Worked so hard on being so strong. I’m proud of you. I’ve got you now, petal.” He whispered into your hair so softly. As if he could break you, as if he ever even conserved doing such a thing.

Maybe he could feel it then– the way you had given up. Even if it was just for the hour. Maybe he knew to use it to his advantage. That’s what you would have done in the arena. Or maybe he did actually care. Did actually want to be there. Wasn’t planning on using your vulnerability for his own gain.

You would never really know, would you?

You’re just so tired. And the way he gently pulls your face from his neck, tucks your face into his palm sure makes it feel like he cares. You don’t know. You don’t want to care. You just want to be free from thinking for a little while.

Maybe that’s why you don’t look away when his eyes search to find your own. To make a connection– to try and convey that he can be solid for you, despite how he acts most of the time. Maybe it’s the tears that fall onto his cheeks, fooling you into believing his pain is your own. Your head feels so screwy anyway– unable or unwilling to function any longer than it has to.

Maybe that's why you don’t pull away when he glances towards your lips. When his tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink pair. When he leans closer, his lips pressing against your own in a way that is utterly consuming, yet so soft at the same time. Dual worlds colliding together. The very definition of who Jimin seems to be.

The kiss is a short, gentle thing. Something meant to soothe, to help you relax more than anything else. One that you neither respond to, nor push away from. But the fact it happens remains. The fact you didn’t hate it remains a thing to ponder on another day.

His thumbs move up to gently swipe at your cheeks, collecting the last of your tears on his fingertips. Your head choosing to ignore the way he pops the digits in his mouth, tasting the salty tang.

You're too tired– too confused right now, to care anyway.

“Let's go to bed now, okay? You must be tired, baby.” He lifts you, placing you on your side of his massive bed. Tucking your frame in, moving your hair to the side before placing a gentle kiss on your temple.

That night, he doesn’t force you to cuddle him. He doesn’t touch you at all, something you’re grateful for. But it’s clear something– maybe everything has changed. The repercussions, unclear.

Yet the next morning, when you’re shocked awake by a gentle kiss to the lips and the floppy, too-happy face of Jimin in the morning, the memories of the night prior return. Then and there, for the first time, you’re sure you’ve made a mistake.

⋆𐙚 part ii -> coming soon to a theatre near you <33 and as always, feel free to ask hunger games!jimin anything you want along with all my other guys!! MWAH!! ily and i hope you enjoyed <33

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moonlitlatte2023 · 7 months ago

Text

Pairing:Jungkook x Reader (female)

Genre: Established relationship ,smut,fluff,angst(?),Romance

Rating:18+ minors DNI🚫

Warnings:unprotected vaginal sex (ALWAYS use protection) ,nipple play,tension,JK is quite girthy,overstemulation, Jungkook is really just a sweetheart.

This is my first ff so bare with me y'all and English is not my first language so please forgive me in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors .

Now this is gonna be featuring intercourse during (Y/N) 's period so if that concept makes uncomfortable please just scroll away,exit ,block,whatever, and if you think it's gross that's okay to each their own. I just DON'T wanna hear about it in the comments 😃 ♡.Hate will NOT be tolerated.

The images used in this post are not my own credits to the owners.However the idea is COMPLETELY mine please don't plagiarize my work.

ENJOY!

_______________◇◇◇◇_______________

The day had been miserable from the moment you woke up. The stabbing cramps in your abdomen consistent and painful ,you'd been in unbearable pain the entire day unable to keep anything down as your stomach punished you for each bite of food you took.

And now you were in the shower, letting the scalding water cascade over your form as you took shallow breaths with each painful cramp that attacked your abdomen ,the hot water not doing much to ease the pain.

Jungkook had noticed your unusual quiteness the entire day as normally your usual chatter filled the penthouse however today you'd barely managed to grunt out a response to all his questions .

Standing in the kitchen, he stared at the untouched soup he’d made you earlier. He'd brought you water ,juice ,your favorite snacks ,heating pads—anything he could think of but nothing helped .He didn't like seeing you like this,curled in on yourself and you usual chipper mood dimmed by the pain.

Jungkook debated whether to bother you again. He knew how bad your cramps could get, but you hadn’t eaten anything all day, and that worried him more. Grabbing his courage, he padded toward the bathroom and knocked softly on the door.

“Doll? What do you want to eat?” he called out gently, leaning against the frame. He waited a moment, but there was no answer except the faint sound of water running. He frowned, knocking again. “Y/N? You’ve got to eat something.”

“Mm,” you hummed, the noncommittal sound barely audible over the running water.

Jungkook huffed a quiet laugh, his worry softening into fond exasperation. “That’s not an answer, love ,” he teased. When you didn’t respond again, he cracked the door open, careful not to startle you. “I’m coming in, okay?”

You sighed to yourself to exhausted to argue.

Stepping inside, Jungkook was met with a wall of steam, the room thick with heat and the scent of your favorite body wash. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, he could make out your silhouette, standing under the stream of water with your head tilted downward hand still clutching your stomach his heart twisted seeing you like this—so tired, so defeated by the pain you always brushed off as “not a big deal.”

“You’ve been in there for a while,” he said, his voice softer now. “Is it helping?”

“Mm,” you replied again, the sound clipped.

Jungkook sighed again, his brows furrowing,"You're impossible you know that ?",his voice softening with concern,"Atleaste tell what you'd like to eat I'll make anything ".

"I'm not hungry just please leave ",you manage to murmur with a sigh and Jungkook throws his head back rubbing, his temples.The silence stretches and you almost think he's given up till his voice break the silence.

"Just let me come in ,I hate seeing you in pain and I'll do anything to help ,I just wanna hold you...please",he pleads his words softening something in you, and you find yourself exhaling slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit."Come in,"you mumble finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stripping out of his shirt and sweatpants Jungkook joins you in the shower in just his underwear .

Sliding the shower door open and stepping inside carefully to avoid startling you. The steam envelops him immediately, and his gaze lands on you—your back turned to him, water glistening on your skin.

His heart thudded in his chest as he reached out, his hands brushing your shoulders gently. “You’re tense,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded faintly, not trusting yourself to speak. His hands moved to your waist, his thumbs pressing into the small of your back in a way that made you sigh softly, the pain easing just slightly under his touch.

He soft lips graze your shoulder his hands rubbing circles against you abdomen from behind you ,"Does this help?",he questions gently and and you hum.

Encouraged Jungkook let's his hands slide lower stopping just below your navel thumbs moving in firm but slow rhythmic motions and you start to feel some relief."I read somewhere that this would ease some of the cramps is it working?", he asks.

"Yeah it feels a lot better ,thank you ",you murmur and it brings Jungkook much relief .He places light kisses on the back of your neck and goosebumps appear on your skin at the feeling",You know I also read somewhere that well....",he pauses and your brows furrow at his hesitation but you wait for him to continue anyway,his cheeks flush as the thought roots itself in his mind.

His hands slide up from your hips to your waist before turning you around to finally face him and as soon as you meet his gaze you a shiver runs down your spine.

"Well...",he starts somewhat shyly hands massaging your hips as he begins to press light kisses into your jaw then to your neck and you tilt your head allowing him more access,"Apparently sex can help with cramps...something about releasing endorphins and muscle relaxation ",he finally says pulling away from your neck to gauge your reaction and you break away from his gaze ,shoulders tensing at the idea,"I don't know...,"you start.

It wasn't that you didn't trust him but this was a really vulnerable moment for you ...you were bleeding and you felt like you were a mess ,what if he thought you were disgusting or if he stopped liking you after seeing you like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer again. His hand came to rest on your hip, the touch gentle, grounding you as you look up at him. “If you don’t want to, we won’t. I just… I hate seeing you like this. I'll do anything and everything that I can to help ".

His sincerity caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him again guilty at the way you'd lashed out at him earlier when he'd just been trying to help , your resolve wavering under the intensity of his gaze. “And you’re okay with… that?...I mean I'm bleeding.... ” you ask hesitantly, your voice barely audible over the rush of the water.

Jungkook’s lips twitched into a small, reassuring smile, though his eyes remained serious. “If it helps you, of course I am,I wouldnt have said anything had i not been willing...just let me take care of you "he murmers quietly.

Your heart was racing now, the heat of the shower suddenly feeling stifling. You hesitated, your mind racing with a dozen objections, but the look in his eyes—the quiet determination, the care—made your walls crack just enough.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice so soft.

The kiss he presses to your lips is soft at first, tentative, as though giving you time to back out. But when you don't pull away, he deepens it, his lips moving against yours with a slow intensity that made your knees weak.

His hands find your hips grasping them firmly to keep you in place ,his lips becoming hot against yours as you finally start to ease up your hands finding they're way into Jungkooks wet hair.

"You're so beautiful",he mumbles breaking the kiss his lips moving to kiss your jaw before moving down your neck and chest ,you can't help but shudder violently as his lips take In a nipple his hand coming up to cup your other breast as his thumb massages the sensitive nipple ,you moan as he begins to suck on the other nipple hissing as his teeth graze the sensitive bud ,"Oh—Jungkook".

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his lips curling into a teasing smile. "Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered, his voice low and intoxicating. "I want to hear you say it."

Your cheeks flushed deeper, but the hunger in his gaze gave you the courage to answer. "You,"you breathed, your voice trembling as your hands fisted in his hair. "I need you."

"You're so difficult ",he moans," but you feel so good—can't get enough".

His large hand moves to grip your thighs hooking it around his waist slowly rolling his hips into you and your knees buck at the feeling of his bulge against your core.

His searches your face for a moment before speaking ",Let me know if I'm going too fast or if you want me stop—".

"You're not",you assure him as you place a kiss on his neck,"You're perfect,and so gentle,do you even know how amazing you are?", you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you place another kiss on his jaw.

Jungkook blinked, his brows knitting together. “What are you talking about?”

"You're so incredible and you don't even realise it,you're so funny,and kind and patient and so loving too and the crazy part is that you're so humble about it too",you mumble as you stare at him.

Jungkook’s ears turned pink at your words, but his gaze remained locked on yours, his grip on your hips tightening slightly.

“And then there’s the way you touch me…” Your voice dropped, your fingers curling into his hair as whisper in his ear “You’re so careful with, so deliberate, you're perfect . But you don’t just touch me—you make me feel alive. You make me feel… beautiful.”

Jungkook’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly. “You are beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Inside and out. You don’t even have to try, Y/N. You just… are.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch as his hand came up to cup your cheek. “You make me feel like I make you the luckiest man in the world,” you murmured. "But the truth is, I’m just lucky to have you."

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he stays silent ,eyes skimming over your face.Then, with a low chuckle, he pushed himself further into you . "You’re dangerous, you know that?,"he whispers against your lips. "Saying things like that… you’re gonna make it impossible for me to let you go."

You smiled, brushing your lips against his. "Good. Because I don’t want you to."

His response was immediate—a deep, lingering kiss that left no doubt about how much your words meant to him ,his tongue dancing with yours intimately as the water poured over both of you ,you have no idea where you ended and where he started all you knew was how much you needed him.

He hands come up behind you before gripping your ass as pushes himself into you and you feel his bulge press into your stomach and you gasp at how hard he is, he takes the opportunity to slide his hot tongue into your mouth,you sex clenching around nothing when you grind into him causing him to groan.

His thighs parts your knees as he situates himself between them ,you brace yourself against the wall as Jungkook removes his boxers and you bite your lip as his cock springs out of his boxers ,his tip an angry red as precum oozes out if his slit.

You don't get to say or do much before Jungkook' s firm but careful hands are pinning you further up against the the way his grip keeping you steady as he aligns himself against your entrance ,his tip grazes your throbbing entrance and you bite you bite your lip to muffle the gasp that nearly escapes you when his tip enters your hole and soon the rest of him inch by inch. You cry out at the way he stretches you out ,you walls clenching around him ever so slightly.

He shudders as he lays his head on your shoulder his hot breath fanning your collarbone,"Fuck!—",his voice dropping a few octaves ,"You're so tight",he breaths and you clench around him with a breathy moan.

Jungkook still for a bit searching for any signs if discomfort in your face,"You okay?",he questions and you nod capturing his lips as you roll your hips into his giving the go ahead to start moving .

He started of slowly his hips wounding into you at a controlled pace ,Jungkook's lips move to your jaw placing soft kisses on it as his lips move down your neck and chest ,you hiss when he pinches your swollen nipple your body shuddering, as you grip in his hair tightens he let's out a groan his grip on your hips tightening as he begins to pick the pace his hips slamming into yours mercilessly ,each thrust eliciting lewd sounds from your lips ,your hand comes up to cup one of your breasts and you moan softly at how sensitive it feel as you squeeze it.

"Oh—",you cry out as Jungkook hits your G-spot repeatedly and your walls clenching around him shamelessly,"You feel so good baby—so ",he pauses pulling out before smashing himself back in ",fucking good".

That's all it takes before your orgasm rushes over your body legs squeezing around his waist as Jungkook fucks you through your orgasm ,it's not long before he starts chasing his high as well his grip around your thighs tightening before delivering his last final thrusts.

His body shudders violently as he cums his head resting on your shoulder as he catches his breath.Your massage his scalp with your nails as you wait for him to calm down which elicits a shiver from the man.

Jungkook picks up his head as he searches your face ",You okay,I didn't hurt you did I?",he asks his face contorting with worry.

You immediately shake your head sensing his worry",No, I'm okay ,you didn't hurt me at all ....infact",you murmur as you play with his hair,"I feel so good love,you're so good to me",you mutter as you connect your lips and Jungkook returns the kiss with a bruising force while adjusting his grip on your thighs as he brings you impossibly closer.

He kiss is like a man drowning —fingers digging into your thighs as he kisses you mouth greedily swallowing every sound you dared to make ,your teeth grazed his lower lip eliciting a groan from Jungkook and you can't help but cry out when you feel him twitch inside of you nor could you help the way your walls clench around him greedily.

You break the kiss breathless as you connect your foreheads ",As much as I wanna continue ",you say rolling your hips into him and he shivers with a moan,"We've been in here long enough,my hands are starting to prune",you finish and the man sighs large hands massaging your thighs.

"Do we have to ",he sighs and you giggle ",Yes—",you kiss his cheek ,"We—",you kiss his other cheek,"Do—",you say with a final peck on his lips before continuing,"Now put me down",you say tapping your fingers against his bicep.

The man sighs in resignation before carefully slipping out of your sex and you let out a mix between a gasp and a moan at the feeling suddenly feeling empty. He waits for a few more seconds before placing you down gently keeping his hands on your hips to stabilize you when your knees buckle.

"Well that was something ",you start and he let's out a breathy laugh,"Yeah",he agrees biting his lip",We should do that more often",he continues hand brushing through his hair and your breath stutters at how hot he looks,he catches you gaze and he sends you a smug smirk making you roll your eyes ,groaning when your eyes land on his hardened member,"You're Impossible ",you mutter hands coming up to cover your face in embarrassment ,he laughs",I'm sorry I can't help It,You're just so fucking hot",he husks walking you back into the shower wall .

"Jungkook",you breath wanting to protest but the words get stuck in your throat.

He cups your chin",Say it again ".

"Jungkook",you whisper once more as his hands roam your sides before he grips your thigh lifting it against his hip.

"You're going to be the end of me I swear ",you gasp as his length presses into your heat.

"Then let me finish what I started ".

____________◇The end◇_____________

Wordcount: ???😭😭

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