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cinnaminsvga · 8 months ago

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Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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koqabear · 7 months ago

Note

hiii this is for the 2k event, i wanted to ask if u write hybrid!au cause yeonjun dressing up as nick wilde has got me feeling a little delusional. if u don’t completely ignore this but if u do, can i request fox yj and maybe bunny reader?

[2K Masterlist]

"Yeonjun is adamant that you’re a pretty, porcelain doll. You’re more than ready to shatter that idea and show him that you’re stronger than he thinks."

fox hybrid! yeonjun x bunny hybrid! reader // wc: 1.9K // genre: hybrid au, pwp. this is just straight filth im sorry. MDNI.

warnings dom!yeonjun, sub!mc, somnophilia (consensual), oral (f rec.) pet names (bunny, good girl), degrading, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degrading, kitchen sex, manhandling, dacryphilia, begging, scratching, possessiveness, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, aftercare kinda, girl idk i literally just dissociated when i wrote this i forget how exhausting this all is!!

Notes: the healthcare system is fucked even in fanfiction, you can’t escape.

Every decision you’ve made throughout your relationship with Yeonjun has led to where you are now:

Face down, ass up, tears in your eyes and words muddled through the drool that spills through your lips.

You’ve told him countless times that you’re not fragile; that the sweet, docile image he has of bunny hybrids is nothing but a sham, and that you can take anything he offers with a confident stride— and though he simply laughed in endearment and shook his head at your claims, you insisted. You insisted throughout all the sugary sweet times he made love to you, during all the moments where you felt his hands hesitate to hold you, as though he was afraid that putting pressure on your body would be enough to make you shatter.

The words were tiring to both his and your ears at some point: the petulant whines asking for more, your pathetic attempts to try and take control and change the pace entirely— Yeonjun’s sharp, narrowed eyes that flickered at you in warning was the harshest thing you received from him— but judging by the shivers that flowed down your spine like water, your fluffy tail twitching in attention, you knew that your body only craved for more and your brain wouldn’t settle down until you got your way.

You could say that he warned you. He really did, technically, sitting you down for a serious talk about something you two never really discussed in detail. You watched with wide, slightly confused eyes as he explained to you that his heat was approaching, and that you definitely shouldn’t be around for it— when you perked up to interrupt, he merely shook his head to shut you down and continue his explanation.

“I usually take medication, but my insurance no longer covers my usual prescription.” he told you, his ginger ears twitching in annoyance from the mere memory, “I’m taking a leave from work for it, and… I want to spend this time alone.”

“It gets intense… I don’t want to hurt you.”

A bruised ego and terribly confrontational personality was truly a god awful combination. Though you suppose it helped you for the better, considering that after a good argument with your ever-so loving and doting boyfriend, he finally gave up.

You can remember the sight so vividly; his ruffled hair, the fluffy tail that whipped from side to side as he finally slumped back against the couch, out of breath and exhausted— his ears pinned against his head in defeat the moment he took a good look at you, in all your still fired up and energetic glory.

He knew it was a losing battle the moment you cocked a challenging brow at him, as though begging for him to continue.

The word okay has never sounded better from your boyfriend's mouth.

••••

That all leads you back to today. It’s been— oh, you really can’t remember. A day? Maybe two? You don’t think it matters at this point, since the only thing that fills your mind now is the feeling of being full, stuffed, and warm.

Yeonjun gave you a chance to back out the second he opened the door for you. He spoke to you calmly, softly, nervously, watching you hop around his living room and throw your overnight bag on his couch, overjoyed to be taking such a monumental step forward in your relationship. You dismissed every slow, anxious sway of his tail as you ate dinner together, listening intently as he told you about how he’s gotten with his previous partners.

It was too much for many of them. He gets aggressive. He gets insanely needy, it goes on for hours, even throughout the night.

You prayed that he didn’t notice the pathetic clench of your thighs and slight arousal as he told you about his details, nodding sweetly when he asked if you were okay with doing the things he mentioned.

You established a safeword, coddled him the moment you noticed his temperature beginning to rise, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead as you murmured your goodnights.

About six hours passed when you first felt it; you’ve always been a light sleeper, so you were doomed the second your sensitive ears picked up on the sound of restless rustling behind you. You tried your best to ignore it, your drowsy mind eager to go back to sleep, but the white noise of sheets moving around was quickly accompanied by something else— breathy, desperate gasps.

“Bunny…” Yeonjun’s raspy whine was enough to have your ear twitching slightly; more rustling, and suddenly, a scorching heat hovers behind you. “Bunny, need… need you s’bad…”

His hands are heavy on your skin, almost scorching with the way he restlessly makes his way up your shirt, groping at your tits before they slide down your stomach, feeling you up all the way down before they stop at your thighs— without warning, he presses flat against you, a hand snaking beneath your body to wrap around your stomach and pull you flush into him. He was so hard, so needy that the very feeling of your soft ass pressing against him was enough to rip out a broken sob from him.

“Let me fuck you,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, words that slurred together showing that he was also half-awake, probably not too aware of his actions and the way he rutted into you helplessly, “C’mon bunny, lemme use you.”

Your ass that pressed back into him and the sleepy whine that left you was enough for him.

You can only remember drifting in and out of consciousness that night; the sloppy, wet sounds of skin against skin and desperate grunts was nothing but white noise to you at that point— Yeonjun was glued to you for hours on end, fat cock thrusting harshly into your poor, abused cunt, filled with so much cum that it could only smear onto your inner thighs and his balls, leaving a mess you wouldn’t be able to clean anytime soon.

When you woke up, you were on your back— your pussy was sore and a whine bubbled up uncontrollably from your throat, hips canting up and against Yeonjun’s face— your hands were shaky as you fisted the sheets, tears pricking your eyes as you listened to Yeonjun’s sweet nothings against your skin, leaving bites and kisses against your thighs as he promised you that he’d be quick, that he just needed to eat your sweet cunt— you’d get cleaned up nicely after.

Yeonjun was a liar, of course— because none of his sweet promises included his burning desire to fuck you after you came, cleaning you up only to push his cock back in and fuck you right into the mattress; legs pressed against your stomach, wails leaving you as he plunged into you with abandon, frantic hands scratching down his back as you cried from the overstimulation— it only ended with him pressing deeply into you and emptying yet another load into your tired cunt.

The semblance of normalcy that followed after didn’t last very long, either— yeah, getting carried to the shower and having him clean you up and scrub you down was nice, and sitting at the counter as you watched him make a quick breakfast was nice too, a heartwarming glimpse into a domestic future with him— but you were only able to get halfway through your meal before Yeonjun decided that he’d much rather bend you over the kitchen counter and have you there instead— moaning wantonly as he watched your trembling legs fail to keep up, buckling under his pace and forcing him to hold you up with his insane strength— and just when you thought he was getting tired, he simply flipped you on your back and laid you on the counter instead; he always did think you looked really pretty when you were totally fucked out, anyway.

Maybe that’s when hours started blending together— he was sweet and caring when he needed to be, cleaning you up with a feather-like touch and kisses that warmed your heart— only to give you the whiplash of the century when his pupils dilated and the only thing he honed in on was you.

You. You you you.

His ears would press against his head and his tail would flicker dangerously, narrowed, focused eyes meeting your bleary ones with ease; you could only sit there and let him maneuver you however he liked, shivering and falling limp with each time he’d slide his cock into you, as though you finally felt complete.

You looked so breathtaking to him— under him, over him, whatever position he suddenly found himself needing you in— teary eyes and swollen lips calling his name like a mantra, a prayer, a plea for him to use your body until he got his fill.

There was something so addicting about the way you trembled from the overstimulation, sobbing and writhing yet never saying your safe word. It had Yeonjun fascinated, the guilty part of his mind berating him for trying to see how far he could take things— yet, no matter what he did or what he said, you only seemed to beg for more, like you’d been waiting for this moment for ages.

“Take it, T-take it like a good toy,” Yeonjun hissed, fingers digging into your hips as his cock battered into you ruthlessly. You merely cried and moaned, cotton tail wiggling with every drag against your walls, the soft fur coated with dried cum, “said you could handle it, right? Stupid fucking bunny— nothing but a cumdump for me, hmm?”

Your squeals and chants of yes! Yes yes yes! only spur Yeonjun on even more— his body feels as though it’s on fire, bright hair sticking to his sweaty skin as he merely pushes himself further— you can practically feel his back hover over your own, able to tell that he’s close from his faltering pace and shaky breaths that fan across your skin.

“Want me to breed you?” he asks, though there’s no need to ask anymore if the previous loads he’s dumped into you are any indication of your answer. Yet he still does, almost like instinct; it’s much more satisfying to hear you beg for it, anyway.

And you do— your begging is so cute, how could he ever resist? Yeonjun’s nails might break your skin with how tightly he’s holding you, teeth digging into his pouty lip as he pumps himself into you, once, twice, then empties out everything he has to offer— your back arches and your hips move back to try and glue yourself to him, crying out his name in satisfaction as he fills you for the nth time of the night.

The way you keen out, the sight of your ears that are pinned to your head along with your tail that shivers with satisfaction is like drugs to him; he’s hopelessly addicted to you, to all of you, from your stuffed cunt that continues to suck him in to your soft voice that whimpers out at every sensation you offer him.

Such a good girl, Yeonjun thinks to himself, butterfly kisses spanning along your sweaty skin, your barely conscious form curling into him for more, how did he get so lucky?

Even after he’s given you a moment to rest, laying down with you on top of him, you still cling onto him, sighing in content as you allow him to cockwarm you, already bracing yourself for the moment he feels himself needing you again. And as you both drift into a much needed nap, Yeonjun can only find himself thinking one thing.

Thank god for you and your argumentative nature.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #yeonjun ff #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun oneshot #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun fanfiction #[2k event!]#[nsfw]#[the mic is yours]

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hannieween · 10 months ago

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city lights series joshua makes my heart go BRRR... anyways imagine joshua taking care and spoiling their S/O a little extra on their birthday 😌👉👈

hiiiiii nonniee!! (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

...

is... is this a request? omg nonnie is it your bday? 🥺

i've never received a request, so i'm going to assume that this is a req!

here i go ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: fluff, smut (18+) ✮ aus: boyfriend joshua ✮ word count: 4.1k

✮ a/n: this is connected to the city lights series (i'm not a 100% sure if you wanted this to be linked to city lights joshua or not, nonnie, sorry) — reading the series is necessary imo before reading this

i really got carried away with this

i hope you like this nonnie! ᨐฅ♡

› smut tags under the cut

✮ warnings: foul language, joshua is in love, dom joshua, pussy drunk joshua, tooth rotting fluff, body worshipping, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, after care. pet names: baby, bunny (hers) › this is not proofread

✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers only. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

3:14 AM

In the middle of the night, you stirred under the covers and turned over.

It was deadly silent, except for the soft breaths that your boyfriend exhaled while he slept beside you. It had been some hours since you both called it a night after your dinner party and went to bed, obviously not before he spoiled you before sleep.

Your hair was still humid from the mandatory shower you always took after sex, the reason why you woke up, because it was making you shiver.

You slowly sat up, coiling from the brutal change from the warmth beneath the covers, mostly emanating from your sleeping boyfriend and rose from your bed.

Rummaging your drawers silently, you looked for your favorite fuzzy socks without making too much noise and climbed back to bed to put them on with a content sigh.

You slid carefully back beneath the covers and upon lying back on your pillows, a warm hand snaked on top of your tummy, drawing a small gasp in surprise along with a shiver that rushed down your spine.

"Are you cold, baby?" Joshua asked in a low murmur.

"Yeah, a bit," you replied in the same manner.

"C'mere," he whispered, using the hand on your tummy to scoot your body closer by wrapping it around your waist.

He cuddled your body perfectly, enveloping it with his warmth and as soon as your body was pressed to his, he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your humid hair.

"Happy birthday, bunny," he muttered softly, moving his face to press his lips against the apple of your cheek.

That made you smile. Joshua had been repeating those words over the night at any chance he could get. And it was finally your birthday, when the clock had struck midnight, your boyfriend was the first one to hug you and wish you a happy birthday.

"Thank you, Josh," you replied.

"Mm," he replied sleepily, then wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly.

You saw the features of his face relax and his arms around you slowly did too when he resumed sleeping peacefully. You nuzzled against his lean chest and breathed the smell of his skin in.

There were small hickeys on his throat, just below his Adam's apple that bobbed slightly when he swallowed.

And then,

"Are you having trouble falling asleep, baby?" Joshua muttered, his voice was honeyed, so sweet that it almost melted into your ear.

"Yes," you whispered.

It was mind-boggling how he read you so effortlessly. He knew you were awake still without even opening his eyes. You supposed, the many times you've shared a bed together, he has picked up a lot of things from you. That and, the fact that you're a terrible sleeper.

He opened his eyes to find yours, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before he asked: "Can I do something to help you sleep, baby?"

The question burned in your body, like a fiery bolt of lightning across you. You nodded. "Yes. Anything, please."

Even though he made love to you right after you arrived from the dinner party, you still felt hungry for more.

The smile grew on his face with a soft sigh. "My needy bunny," he muttered, bringing a hand to cup your chin and hold you still as he pressed his lips on yours.

Slowly, tauntingly, his tongue pushed against your lower lip as he kissed you, his lips then captured yours, eliciting a small moan from you.

The sound only egged him on, with a low grunt from him, his lips captured yours, intensifying the kiss and now your boyfriend was kissing you deeply, using his body to press your back against the mattress and he climbed on top of you skilfully.

"You're so pretty, baby," he muttered after parting from your lips to look at you with the most adoring look on his face. He ran a finger on your cheek. "You looked beautiful tonight."

You stifled a sigh. Your boyfriend was the most attractive man you've ever seen. And he was wearing nothing but his black boxers, his lean chest and abdomen bare for your view.

"Thank you, Josh," you laughed a little in a mixture of nervousness and joy.

Joshua smiled contentedly. "I like it when you call me that," he confessed, dipping his head to kiss you softly.

Then he pulled his body back, making the covers slide from his body and effectively from yours, falling in bundles behind his body. His hands grabbed your pyjama shorts and panties by the waistband and pulled them down your thighs, and got them off your ankles to then set them aside on the bed.

"Can I keep my socks on?" you asked just when he moved to take your top off.

"Of course, bunny," he muttered warmly. "Whatever my baby wants."

You smiled in sheer joy and sat up for him to remove your top off, undressing you completely. You leaned back on the pillows and looked at the man towering in front of you.

His eyes roamed on your naked body, revelling at the sight of you with such love and adoration written on his face that it made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

"So pretty, baby," he echoed his own words, but this time they sounded in utter awe.

He placed his hands on each side of your body and lowered his body so he could kiss you, he trapped your lower lip between his before deepening the kiss.

"I'm so lucky," he muttered entrancingly between kisses, pressing his lips against yours repeatedly.

You stifled a moan and wrapped your arms around him. "We both are," you whispered. "Lucky."

"But I'm luckier," he muttered and you felt him smile against your lips.

You laughed into his mouth just before you could say anything because he was kissing you again.

"Shuddup," he whispered when he parted to look at you.

"Don't tell me to shut up! It's my birthday," you whined and laughed at yourself.

Joshua had been spoiling you so much lately and you realized that he'd been doing it from a week back, much as if he wanted to take a whole week to celebrate your birthday.

That being said, he took you out for dinner randomly, without telling you in advance. He also showered you with pretty gifts—a jewellery set, a Cinnamoroll squishmallow, which made your stomach twist in utter cuteness from both your boyfriend knowing you'd like this and the new addition to your squishmallow army.

The most recent of your birthday gifts he gave you was a bracelet he made with his own hands. It had your favourite colors and it was so pretty and carefully thought of that you almost didn't believe him at first when he told you he made it himself.

Well, that and the fact that your boyfriend likes to joke around with you sometimes.

And besides the gifts, the dinners, he also gave you a lot of attention. He'd been going an extra mile to make you feel good and loved to the point that he almost made you cry out of sheer joy.

But Joshua was all yours. That was the biggest birthday gift you could ever ask for.

"Mm, don't get bratty, baby," he muttered gruffly into your mouth as the kisses slowly got more heated. "It might be your birthday, but I could still cuff you to the bed."

Your stomach lurched at the sound of that. It is true that you enjoyed being cuffed to the rails of the headboard of the bed, you liked to be helpless while he pleasured you to the point you're rendered breathless and teary eyed.

"Would you like that, bunny? Should I get the cuffs?" he asked playfully, his lips pressed a wet kiss on the underside of your chin, trailing down your throat.

You swallowed thickly when your skin started to prickle, causing your nipples to harden too.

When you didn't answer, he sucked on your skin quite harshly, just on the spot where your collarbones join, making you bristle under his body and your arms tighten around his shoulders.

"No, I–," you stammered. "I'll be good, Josh."

"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully, but you knew that he was having his fun teasing you like this.

Then he ran his tongue flatly on one of your nipples, just before wrapping his mouth around it, suckling at your sensitive bud, humming again but this time in satisfaction.

"Joshua," you moaned softly when your skin prickled again, and your hand shot up and found his nape, your fingers grazed his scalp, eliciting a moan from his part. "God, Josh."

He removed his mouth from your pebbled nipple with a loud smacking noise and then turned to tease your other nipple in the same manner, while his hand came up to palm your recently licked breast, smearing his drool all over your skin.

When he finished suckling your nipple, his hands bulged up your tits, pressing them together to then bury his face in them to kiss and suck your skin.

"You have the prettiest tits, baby," he hummed against your skin entrancingly, kissing the swell of each, to then sucking lovebites right beside your areolas, where no one would see except for himself.

"Josh!" you mewled when he sucked your skin so harshly, the feeling shot right between your legs, making you writhe under his body.

"All mine," he pressed soft and wet pecks on top of each hickey, looking at the reddening spots, feeling content at his work.

You smiled teasingly, the snort you made with your nose made him look up and see your smug expression.

"What?" his pierced eyebrow quirked up. "Is it not true, baby?"

"It is true," you replied and then added. "There's no need to feel possessive of me anymore, Josh. I'm yours."

His hands stopped bulging up your tits and settled on each side of your ribcage, his elbows supporting his weight still.

Looking straight to your eyes, Joshua pulled out his tongue and glided the tip on your nipple, swirling around it only to watch you part your mouth and let out a whiny moan. Then, the corners of his lips rose into a smile, while still teasing your nipple with his tongue out.

"Fuck—Josh," you pleaded, the muscles of your inner thighs clenched on both his sides.

And he felt it.

"D'you like that, bunny?" he asked, still looking directly at you as he moved his mouth to tease your other nipple with the wet tip of his tongue.

You felt your skin prickle before you saw it get bumpy all over. "Yes," you whispered.

"Would you like to feel this on your pussy?" he asked just before he used his tongue to flicker your nipple. You paid attention to the movement of his pointed tongue and imagined that on your clit.

You gulped hard and nodded eagerly.

He pushed his eyebrows up, as if waiting for your verbal response.

"Yes, please, Joshua," you replied.

"Will you stop saying nonsense and let me eat you out, then?" he asked and smiled at you playfully.

You watched him slightly agape and flinched when he grazed at the swell of your breast with his teeth, egging you to answer.

"Wh-what nonsense?" you blurted, feeling a little lost.

"I won't stop feeling possessive of you, bunny," he rolled his eyes at his own sentence. "Not until I put a ring on your finger."

"Josh!" you squealed as your stomach lurched, thighs clenching all at the same time.

"Baby!" he replied, mocking your tone of reprimand with a laugh.

"Stop saying that!" you whined.

"Why, you don't wanna marry me anymore?" he asked before he continued his trail of wet kisses on the lower part of your sternum and down your tummy.

"O-of course I do," you stuttered nervously from both the big question and the fiery tingling sensation on your lower abdomen.

"So?" he egged you on, his lips reaching your mound.

"Josh," you squirmed, watching him pout his lips to suck lightly on your very sensitive skin.

"Mm?" he pushed his eyebrows up again, his eyes trained on yours.

"You-you saying that makes me a little crazy," you confessed with an anxious stutter.

"I know," he replied before kissing your inner thighs, making you gasp pathetically. "I like it."

"Why?" you breathed out, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably when you felt his lips grazing on your inner thigh.

He shrugged ever so slightly. "I like to imagine what your reaction will be when I do it for real."

"So that's why you torture me?" you asked, trying to smile at him to make him understand that you were joking, but instead you sounded completely flustered.

He lifted his face from the apex of your thighs, a question written on his furrowed brow. "Torture you?" he repeated and then smiled. "You're the one torturing me by making me wait."

"I meant it as a joke," you explained, and pointed to your abandoned and throbbing pussy with your eyes. "Please?" you urged him to continue.

"Do you think it's a joke that I want to propose to you?" he asked teasingly, but his tone was everything but.

Before you could give and answer, he pushed his tongue flatly between your folds, making you moan with your eyes screwed shut instantly.

"Fuck—Josh!" you cried out, the tips of your fingers grazing his scalp before grabbing his hair.

"Mm?" he replied and lifted his gaze as his tongue moved up to tease your clit in the same form he did to your nipples, slowly gliding the pointed tip of his tongue around your clit.

"M-more, give me more, please," you pleaded, propping your body on your elbows to look at him, his tongue doing the same motion, swirling around your sensitive bud to then flicker the pointed tip of his tongue side to side, but slowly.

He paused, "Answer the question," he instructed, his eyes focused on your face, knowing full well that it made you a little crazy, too.

"No—I don't think it's a joke," you stammered and pushed your hips up ever so slightly towards his mouth to get more pressure of his tongue on your clit.

Joshua groaned, moving the hands that were previously parked on your thighs and forced your hips onto the mattress, making you yelp.

"Josh, come on," you whined when he continued teasing you, now his hands holding you in place by your hips.

"Mm?" he hummed.

"Faster?" you pleaded and then added innocently: "Please, Josh. It's my birthday."

That made him laugh, he stopped teasing your clit with his tongue to give out a broad smile as he chuckled with his whole body.

"Oh, bunny. You think you're so slick," his pierced eyebrow shot up briefly.

But then he moved his mouth back to your cunt, the tip of his tongue pushing your throbbing clit gently, slowly, swirling around it to watch you squirm and hear your drawn out whimpers.

"Please, Josh," you whined and clenched your jaws tight when the tip of his tongue started flicking your clit side to side again, but refraining from applying the right amount of pressure of his tongue against your throbbing clit.

"Fuck, Josh!" you gasped when the sensation was a little more over a graze on your oversensitive bud, causing your thighs to begin trembling on the sides of his face.

Joshua smiled in response, his tongue still out and teasing you. The image was lewd, he looked so fucking hot that it only added to the teasing.

"Joshua, please," you whined again and bit your lip to keep yourself from whimpering lewdly.

Though you were sure the slight teasing from his tongue on your clit could bring out an orgasm from you. And it appeared that Joshua knew it too, but was trying to draw out your climax by teasing you some more.

"I,—I'm close," you muttered with a whiny tone. "Fuck, Josh, I'm cumming."

He blinked at you slowly, almost as if saying "go ahead," and that was all you needed to come on his tongue. You threw your head back and let out a cry of pure bliss, your whole body trembling under his strong grip.

Breathy moans escaped you as your chest started to heave, but his tongue didn't relent on your cunt, flicking your clit gently but at a steady pace. The worry of waking the neighbors a long, distant thought.

"God, Josh," you sighed heavily as you came down from your high and slumped down on your pillows, thinking it was over.

But oh, you thought wrong. Joshua stopped the flicking motions of his tongue on your clit, only to give broad strokes from your entrance and up your folds, drinking in your arousal with a low moan on his part.

Your orgasm was so intense that it left your walls fluttering around nothing. You gasped when you felt the first pulse in your entrance and it appeared that Joshua felt it on his mouth too.

"Mm," he hummed softly and stopped licking between your pussy lips to then push two fingers inside your fluttering walls. "You have the prettiest pussy," he muttered softly as his long fingers massaged your warm walls.

"Mm-hmph?" you hummed mindlessly with a tiny whine when he pulled out his two middle fingers covered in your slick and glided them up your folds and pinched your swollen clit between them, making you gasp again.

"D'you like that?" he asked gruffly, his eyes trained on the features of your face as he started rubbing his fingers up and down, pinching your clit in between.

The sensation was nearly harsh and it threatened to overstim you soon, but it was also so abundantly sweet in pleasure. You writhed your hips a little bit and nodded.

"Sof-softer? Please," you stammered and bit your lip from moaning when his fingers moved your clit around in circles.

"Anything you want, baby," he muttered gently before rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers in a circle motion, softer and in a steady pace.

"God, Joshua," you sighed a moan and your eyelids fluttered close. The sensation provided by his two middle fingers on your clit was mind-numbing, you felt the pleasure from it everywhere; on your face, between your legs.

"Mm?" you heard him hum.

"Keep going, please," you whined. "Faster."

You heard a sigh and opened your eyes to see him smiling adoringly at you.

But the motion on his fingers picked up some speed, making your thighs clench and begin to shake a little as you felt your body nearing another sweet release. Your body tensed up as well instinctively, as if trying to recoil away from the pleasure it felt.

"Breathe," you heard your boyfriend remind you softly and you slowly took in a breath.

And just when you breathed out, you let out a long moan in pleasure, coming undone on his fingers, his mouth kissing your inner thighs, grazing your skin with his teeth as you came harder than before, chanting his name over and over until you gasped for air.

Panting and shaking, you opened your eyes and found your boyfriend still pressing kisses on your thighs, your mound and lower tummy before he took his fingers covered in your arousal to his mouth to lick his fingers clean.

Your inner thighs were smeared with your arousal, as you would soon find out when you came down from your high. So wet that in fact you could feel the bed sheets were wet beneath your butt too.

You smiled to yourself and propped your body on your elbows again, his eyes lifted to lock with yours.

You ran your fingers through his hair. "You do know I want to marry you, right?" you asked him, still feeling a bit breathless.

Joshua smiled before moving his lips slick in your arousal to kiss your inner thigh. "Mm, not to sure, should I get the ring right now?"

Your stomach lurched yet again, making your body jump on the bed slightly. "Y-you don't have a ring yet, right? Do you?"

"I don't know," he muttered before grazing your inner thigh with his teeth. "I might."

You rolled your eyes. "Joshua, be serious," you sounded a bit nervous.

"So you wouldn't say yes right now?" he asked and a small smirk appeared on his lips when he saw your dismayed expression. "Relax, baby," he muttered in an eased manner. "I'm just teasing you a bit."

"Oh m'god," you sighed and slumped back in your pillows.

"Are you ready to sleep, baby?" he asked as he grabbed your pyjama bottoms and panties.

"Yeah, I think I am," you sighed, blissfully tired and looked at your boyfriend. He held your panties for you to hook your ankles and lifted your hips as he helped you put your pyjamas on.

You both knew you were perfectly fine to do it yourself. But lately Joshua had been doting on you so much that you didn't question him as he did the same with your pyjama bottoms and when you sat up for him to put your top on.

He smiled cutely at you when your hair got ruffled as he put your top on and pressed a loving kiss on your forehead.

"Done," he patted your thigh affectionately and pointed to the door behind him. "Bathroom."

You groaned. "I don't want to," you whined, sitting up in the bed.

"Go baby," he laughed. "I need to change the sheets."

You were reminded then of the small wet stain below your body. "Oh, right."

"Do you want me to carry you there?" he asked softly, seeing that your thighs were still shaking a bit.

"No, I'm fine," you replied, scooting to the edge of the bed and hurried to the bathroom.

Your boyfriend had this routine of sorts, which consisted in taking care of your needs after he dommed you. He'd usually run a warm shower and inspect your wrists for any damage done, he'd cuddle you and ask you questions about your wellbeing.

But in this case, since you had already showered, and there was no bondage, no impact play, no need for the routine. Except for ensuring you'd go pee, of course. After you cleaned yourself up, you came back to your bedroom.

Joshua was finishing making the bed, the ruined sheets were on one corner of the bedroom floor. Your first instinct was to pick them up and immediately put them on the washing machine and program the cycle for the following morning.

"Leave that," Joshua said, spotting your intentions right on. "Get in here."

He nodded back to the bed and you lied down yet again as he climbed beside your body.

"Do you need anything, bunny?" he asked. "I can bring you water, or food if you're hungry."

You shook your head and he opened his arms for you to scoot right over to be wrapped in a warm hug. "I'm good, thank you Josh."

He cuddled your body under the covers, using his body's position behind you to kiss your nape and your hair.

"I'm so lucky to have you, baby," he mumbled against your ear, bringing a hand to run his fingers through your hair, gently and carefully.

"I'm lucky too," you whispered, grabbing the hand that was below your body to kiss his knuckles.

You heard him smile behind you, still running his fingers through your hair, the rhythmic motion slowly driving you to sleep, eyelids falling heavier by the second.

"I love you, bunny," he whispered.

"I love you too, Josh," you replied, feeling your heart beating at every word.

"Feels like you were made for me," he murmured.

You hummed softly in response, your heart fluttering erratically in your chest. "I am," you muttered, mustering up some boldness.

"Are you, bunny? Made for me?" he sighed running a hand from your shoulder and down your arm, caressing you gently.

"Yeah," you breathed. "With or without a ring."

He paused, but his hand didn't stop caressing your arm. "You know I'm not as possessive as before," he told you thoughtfully.

"I know," you conceded after some thought.

"The least I want you to think is that I want to own you or something like that by marrying you," he continued, and you could tell from his tone that he was falling asleep too, even if his hand was still stroking your arm.

"Josh," you muttered sweetly with a small laugh. "I don't think that!"

"I just want to make you happy. Give you the whole world," he whispered.

"You already make me happy, Josh," you muttered and pressed your body back against his. "You made me the happiest tonight."

"Mm, then I've still yet to give you the world," he muttered after some seconds.

You laughed and turned only to press a happy kiss to his smiling lips. "Baby steps, Mr. Hong."

He nodded in agreement. "Baby steps, Ms. Hong."

✮ a/n: so this is the first time i get a request (if it was indeed a request lol) but lemme know, do you like this? should i accept more requests?

so where exactly does this fall in the city lights timeline?

→ this will happen after the events of episode 8, which i hope i can post soon. i know i could've written something outside of the city lights canon, but i want everything i write and post to be within the same universe and what can i say, i got carried away

let me know what you think! likes, reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated! my ask box is always open!

now, i need to go back to writing guilty pleasures pt. 2!!!

i love youuuu ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა ♡

toodles

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#seventeen smut #joshua hong smut #joshua hong x reader #svt smut #svt x reader #joshua hong fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #svt imagines #ff:city lights #hannieween

489 notes · View notes

dearly-somber · 4 months ago

Text

Oh No! | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, f2l, first-kiss, university!au, werewolf/shifter!au

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1376

-> warnings. a tad suggestive at the end!

-> a/n. Sharp Teeth is nearing its end, my loves 😪 One last installment before the end of the main series 🥹🫶🏻

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Sept. 14th, 2024 @ 16:54

-> fin. Sat., Aug. 3rd, 2024 @ 00:31

-> edited. Sun., Aug. 4th, 2024 @ 22:07

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Oh no! your brain says. I’m kissing my best friend! Whatever shall I do?

Run away, it seems.

Your first thought was woah, and before you could think I want to do that again, you were already running upstairs, the distant sound of your name being called only partially breaking through the panicky mist clouding your senses.

You just kissed Jungkook for the first time and it was for a fucking dare. What? How the fuck even did you let that happen?

It’s like one second you were laughing as the pack was being dared to do funky shit like moon the person next to them or call a random number so they could imitate the sound of an elk, and the next you were sitting like a frightened deer as Yoongi, that bastard (affectionate), dared you to kiss the person to your left.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, who was sitting to your left, his eyes wide and round and pretty and—god, why was he licking his lips?

“Uh,” he said, turning to you with cheeks bright-red from drinking too much, although you wondered if maybe it was because of something else. “Y-you—you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he whispered, his tongue dragging slowly over his lower lip as if he was trying to seduce you.

You cleared your throat, your whole body on fire with nerves as you shook your head and leaned toward him. “No,” you said decidedly. “No, let’s do it.”

“Wait, really?” Jimin asked, his eyes flitting between you and Jungkook at a rapid pace.

“Y-yeah,” you shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant despite feeling everything but. “As long as Jungkook is okay with it.”

Jungkook’s Adam’s Apple bobs and you try really hard to stare only a normal amount.

“Okay,” he squeaked.

He watched you with sparkling eyes as you leant forward, entering his space in ways you never thought you’d want to, but now craved like you craved a hot chocolate on a cold day—fervently, obsessively, like you’d be better off having it than not.

You kissed him.

It was wonderful and great and you almost lost yourself in it, but the smallest gasp from the person to your right (you can’t even remember their face) broke your spell…

“Fuck,” you whisper, pulling at your hair. “Fuck!”

You can’t believe that your first kiss with Jungkook happened during a game of dare in front of all your friends and his family.

Fuck.

“Y/N?”

You swivel around with wide eyes. Jungkook steps cautiously into the room as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling unnaturally nervous when he closes the door gently behind him.

“Can we talk?” he asks, voice low and uncertain. You bite your lip but nod your consent, frozen in place even as Jungkook comes to stand in front of you. “I—“

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt before he can finish his thought, your hands flying out as you nervously wave them around. “Christ, Kook. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“Bunny—“

“I’m so sorry.” Your feet unfreeze as you walk circles around him, ending with your back to the door. “I was just feeling tipsy and overly adventurous and- and—”

“Y/N.”

Jungkook grabs your hands, a soft, boyishly nervous smile on his face. “It’s okay,” he says softly.

Despite your relief, your stomach still drops to your feet. “It is?” you whisper.

He nods with a gentle hum, his eyes darting down to your lips and back up again. “I… really, really like you,” he exhales, his entire body seeming to deflate with the confession.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time now, and I know this may not be the best way to say it, but…” He takes a deep breath to hide his nerves, but the hopeful smile never leaves his face. “I think… maybe…?” He trails off slowly, maintaining eye contact as he waits for you to either confirm or deny what you know is him nonverbally saying that he’s noticed your emotional shift.

And god, does that scare you.

“Jungkook…”

“What?” he whispers. “What is it?” His face falls so suddenly that you wonder if it’s possible to feel phantom pain from an expression alone. “Do you… do you not like me back?”

“No, Jungkook, I…”

He defeatedly lowers his head, slowly letting go of your hands as he takes a shaky step back, exhaling hard. “But I thought…”

“Jungkook—“

He shakes his head, looking up like he’s trying not to cry. “It’s fine. That’s fine. We can just… we can just forget this happened—“

“No!” you yell suddenly, the nerves and alcohol in your system finally bubbling over even though Jungkook’s wide-eyed and confused deer-in-headlights look makes your knees feel weak. “We can’t forget this happened because that will fucking kill me.”

Jungkook blinks, slow and surprised and trying desperately to hop on the roller coaster your emotions seem to be taking you on. “What—?”

“I love you,” you say, nervous and giddy and scared but so fucking relieved, “I love you and I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long now and it was so good I won’t be able to stop thinking about it until it happens again, I just—” You take a deep breath, your heartbeat pounding against the back of your throat and the bass of your skull and the tips of your fingers. “I just can’t believe our first kiss happened during a game of dare,” you whisper.

Jungkook opens his mouth, but you speak before he has the chance to: “I know it’s dumb and petty and childish and all those other things, but I just… I really wanted it to be special.”

You breathe.

You ruminate in the tummy-churning silence that makes you almost nauseous until you finally take a step toward him.

You stand toe-to-toe, your noses touching as your chests heave almost in sync. Jungkook’s hands are stiff by his sides, your hands shaking where they take him by the shoulders.

“That does not take away from the fact that I really, really like you,” you whisper.

You exhale against his mouth, standing on the tips of your toes to finally press your lips to his.

The kiss itself doesn’t do anything particularly magical—you note that his lips are cushiony-soft and taste faintly of raspberry, but that’s it. No fireworks, no sparks, no the-world-stood-still-for-a-moment feeling in the center of your chest.

You know what does feel magical?

Jungkook’s hand at the back of your neck. Jungkook’s shoulders relaxing as he leans deeper into the kiss, his nose pressing against your cheek. Jungkook pulling you against him, pressing your chests together and letting out what you know by now is an excited whine.

You smile into the kiss, letting your hands slide up and into his hair, letting your nails drag across the nape of his neck. Jungkook shivers with a shaky sigh against your lips, attacking your mouth more fervently.

You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat when Jungkook pushes you back, nearly tripping over your own feet if not for his hand sitting firm on the small of your back. You grunt when you’re pushed roughly against the bedroom door, eating up Jungkook’s noises like a woman starved.

He groans into your kiss when you teasingly pull on his hair, kissing you so hard your teeth knock together.

It feels like forever before he lets you come up for air, resting your foreheads together as you catch your breath. You slide your hands around his face, gently squeezing the lobe of his ear—he whines loud and grips your sides a little harder—before you cup his face and guide his head back enough for you to look at him.

He’s panting and open-mouthed and shaking, his eyes blown so wide you struggle to pinpoint where his pupils start and his irises begin. Loose strands of disheveled hair hang in front of his eyes, long lashes framing his perfectly round cheeks…

“You’re so beautiful,” you mutter. “I don’t tell you enough.”

Jungkook licks his lips, bringing his hand to your face so he can run his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’ll have all the time in world,” he promises, “but for now…”

“Don’t stop kissing me.”

<- prev | next ->

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cakerybakery · 2 months ago

Text

Okay, this is turning into a thing instead of a short so Bunny Adam. As in Adam, but he was turned into a bunny in hell.

A cute little white rabbit.

Lucifer can speak with all living creatures and when Adam finally gets to him is able to talk to him.

Lucifer brings Adam home with him as they try to find a spell to undo the transformation.

The series of pictures in my mind:

Bunny Adam when he’s first rescued with bald patches where hell rabbits tore out his fur. Dirty from the streets and unable to rest. Starving because there’s so little vegetation in Pentagram City. A bad eye from being attacked.

Charlie scratching between his ears as he mows through the first food he’s had in days, he allows it because she’s feeding him the good shit and not scraps. She doesn’t know yet that it’s him. Just that this poor little beat up rabbit was being chased all over the yard by KeeKee.

Bunny Adam napping in Charlie’s paper recycling box.

Bunny Adam biting Lucifer’s ankle because he blames Lucifer for him being a bunny.

Lucifer taking Adam, and the recycling box, home with him.

Lucifer after pouring over spell books, yawning as it’s passed midnight, and he assumes Adam scampered off to bed hours ago, only to find Adam asleep under or maybe in his hat.

Lucifer nodded off on the couch, book slipping, the fireplace lit, Adam in his lap.

Bunny Adam sitting proudly on Lucifer’s desk as a baby bunny pokes their head out from under his dewlap. He didn’t like what happened to him. The bald patches have grown back by then, but even Lucifer couldn’t fix how sensitive his bad eye is to the light so he keeps it closed mostly, and the scar will always be there. But he likes his kit and is glad she was born in the safety of Lucifer’s home.

Lucifer kitsitting whenever Adam leaves the room.

Eventually Lucifer finding a spell that works and turns Adam and Kit (he named his kit Kit) into people. Kit is only a couple months old as a rabbit but more like five when turned human. Which Adam is happy about because much longer and he’d have had a three month old teenager.

Although he’s a little confused that she’s blonde with cheek marks. Lucifer has to admit he might have tinkered with her DNA a little so she was his instead of a wild rabbit’s. Adam thinks Lucifer is an idiot for doing it, as altering her DNA doesn’t change what happened to him, but a sweet idiot. Enough of a sweet idiot to give Lucifer a chance when he asks a certain bunny sinner out on a date.

#hazbin hotel adam #adamsapple #hazbin hotel lucifer #adam x lucifer #mpreg #bunny Adam au #tw rape

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bearr02 · 22 days ago

Text

Safe and sound |Chapter twelve|

Pairing: Hybrid!ot7 x f!reader

Chapter warnings: might be bad cuz I haven’t written this for a minute 🥲, mild angst too

Summary: You have worked at a hybrid rehab and adoption center for years, enjoying being able to help people others only see as their animal side. You thought you might end up taking in one or two, what you didn’t expect however, was to take in 7.

Genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut, non-idol au, hybrid au, strangers to friends to lovers au

Word count: 1.5k (1515 exactly lol(idk why I find this kinda funny but yeah))

Member’s hybrid types: Namjoon: Bear, Yoongi: Bobcat, Hoseok: Ferret, Jin: Wolf, Jimin: Red panda, Jungkook: Bunny, Taehyung: Marble fox

A/n: I literally picked this up like 2 hours ago and was like “let me get this done today so they have something” so here you guys go 😌

Last - Next - Masterlist

The next day, Hoseok and Jungkook got huffy and puffy when you told them you were going back to work that day. “Guys, I have to.” You chuckle, “I need to make money.” Hoseok pouts, “But you just got hurt, like, yesterday!”

You chuckle, “It wasn’t yesterday, Hobi. And I’m feeling better.” You gently pinch his cheek. “Still!” He whines, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

You hug him back, gently rubbing his back. “I’ll be back before you know it.” You say softly. He hesitantly nods, releasing his hold after a moment, “be safe…” He whispers, looking into your eyes, “please..”

You nod, your eyes softening at his words, a soft smile spreading across your face. “I will.” You gently pinch his cheek before turning to Jungkook.

He pouts, hugging you, resting his forehead on your shoulder. You hug him back, gently squeezing him. After a few minutes he finally, hesitantly, pulls away, looking up at you with a pout.

You smile, gently squeezing his hand before grabbing your keys. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” You wave at them before leaving the house.

The drive to the facility feels like years, your body practically vibrating with excitement to care for your hybrids again. Even if it was just a few days, you still felt guilty leaving them, even though you had to.

Mr. Dubose was very adamant that you didn’t come into work for at least a few more days, worried about your head, but you assured him you’d be fine.

As you pull up to the facility, you quickly park and make your way inside, itching to check up on your hybrids, especially Jimin.

You clock in and put on your coat before making your way to Jimin’s room.

You knock on the door, your hands clasped loosely in front of you.

After a few moments the door slowly opens a crack. Jimin’s eyes widen when he sees you and he immediately hugs you tightly. You smile, hugging him back.

Shortly after you hug him, you feel something wet seeping through your shirt. You frown, gently squeezing his shoulder, “Jimin? What’s wrong?” You ask softly.

“T-they d-did some-something to T-Taehyung… h-he h-hasn’t been in his ro-room…”

You frown, “what?” You gently pull Jimin away, cupping his face in your hands.

He nods weakly, sniffling, his cheeks now tear stained.

You gently take him back inside of his room, sitting him on the bed gently, “I’ll go see if I can find him, okay?” You smile gently, reassuringly.

He hesitantly nods, curling up on his bed.

You leave his room, shutting it gently behind you. You walk down the hall and into Mr. Dubose’s office.

He looks up with a smile, “ah, stubborn Y/n. What is it you need?” He nudges his papers off to the side, giving you his undivided attention.

“I wanted to ask what happened to one of the hybrids. Kim Taehyung.” You sit on the chair in front of his desk.

He opens one of his desk drawers, flipping through files before finding Taehyung’s, pulling it out. “Ah, he seems to have been adopted.” He smiles at you.

Your eyes widen, “already? He’s only been here for 2 weeks!” You stand up. He nods, pursing his lips, “well, he didn’t have any real problems, so we sent him to the adoption area and he was adopted the same day he was put out.” You look away, tonguing your cheek angrily.

His eyes soften, “Y/n, you have to understand, this has to happen at-” you cut him off, “Jimin was attached to him.” You look at him. “Do you not understand how upset Jimin is right now? The moment I checked it on him he broke down!” You exclaim.

Mr. Dubose’s eyes widened, “I-I didn’t know… I'm sorry…”

You turn away, “who adopted him?” He sighs softly, “you know I can’t give that out.” You look at him again. “I want to take him in to see him.” You say firmly, “he deserves at least that.”

Mr. Dubose sighs, “I suppose you’re right.” He scribbles something down on a piece of paper before handing it to you. “He was adopted by the Lee’s. This is their address.”

You take the paper, “thank you.” You give him a tight lipped smile before leaving his office, heading straight for Jimin’s room.

You gently knock on the door before opening it, peeking your head in. He looks at you, wiping away his tears, “did you find him?” He whispers, crawling to the edge of his bed, sitting back on his heels.

You nod, stepping in, “in a way.” You smile gently, walking over and sitting beside him on his bed.

His brows furrow, “what does that mean?” He whispers, “where’s Tae?” A new wave of tears filled his eyes.

“He was adopted.” You whisper, gently squeezing his hand. He looks away, his tears starting to slip down his cheeks. “We can go see him.” You whisper, squeezing his shoulder gently.

He looks at you, sniffling, “we can?” He whispers, his voice quivering slightly from his tears. You nod, pulling out the small paper Mr. Dubose gave you. “I have their address.”

He wipes away his tears and nods, “I wanna see him.” He whispers. You nod, standing up and holding out your hand to him. He takes it, standing up as well.

You lead him out of his room, holding his hand in yours, rubbing the back of it with your thumb gently. You make your way to your car, ignoring Sun-hee’s questions. You feel bad, but you know you’ll snap at one wrong word.

You help Jimin into your car before getting in yourself, buckling up before starting to drive over to the address Mr. Dubose provided you.

As you get close to the destination, the more nervous Jimin gets. You reach over, gently grabbing his hand, “you’ll be okay. I promise I’ll do what I can to make sure you can at least see Taehyung often, okay?” You smile gently.

He nods, the movement small and barely noticeable.

After a few minutes you pull up to the house, parking with a deep breath, turning to Jimin. “You ready?” You ask softly, squeezing his hand. He nods, staring at the house.

You get out of the car, waiting for Jimin to get out before walking up the house, Jimin in tow.

You knock on the door firmly, keeping Jimin behind you. After a few minutes the door finally opens, a man raising a brow, “can I help you?” He crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

You smile, “good morning, sir, I was told you adopted a hybrid yesterday?” He nods, eyeing you up and down suspiciously. “What’s it to you?” He asks gruffly, stepping closer. Jimin glares at him, not liking the sudden closeness.

You gently squeeze Jimin’s hand, “I work at the facility you adopted him from. I have a close friend of his who would like to see him.” The man scoffs, “we’re busy, go away.” He moves to close the door.

You firmly push the door back open, “sir, you are legally obligated to allow this hybrid to see his pack member.” You say firmly, “if you don’t, you can be fined, or in worst cases, arrested.” He glares at you, reluctantly opening the door, letting you come in.

You lead Jimin inside, keeping him close. The man leads you into the living room, a familiar fox locked in a cage in the corner of the room.

You walk over to him with a frown, “Taehyung?” You crouch in front of the cage. Taehyung looks up quickly, his tail wagging gently, almost timidly. You look at the man with a frown, “why is he in a cage?”

The man rolls his eyes, “he wasn’t behaving.” He says simply. You turn to Taehyung again, opening the cage without a thought. The man takes a few steps closer, “what the hell are you doing?! He hasn’t learned his lesson!” He shouts angrily.

You stand up, pushing Jimin behind you and to Taehyung, stepping closer to the man. “The government may not care, but I don’t tolerate hybrids being crated. They’re human fucking beings!” You shout.

The man scowls, taking a few steps closer again, “listen here, lady-” the man doesn’t have the chance to finish speaking, Taehyung pouncing on him with a sharp growl.

Taehyung takes the man to the ground, locking his jaws on the man’s arm, shaking his head. The man roughly throws Taehyung off, clutching his bleeding arm. Jimin cries out at the sight of Taehyung, rushing over to him.

You rush over as well, examining him worriedly. He whimpers in pain, his eyes squeezed shut. Without hesitation you pick him up, “let’s go.” You tell Jimin, hurrying out of the man’s apartment.

Jimin follows closely behind you, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds nervously. You hurry to your car, setting Taehyung in the back seat, waiting for Jimin to get in before driving off back to the facility.

Last - Next - Masterlist

A/n: soooo… yeah… I’m back…? I guess..?? I hope

Series taglist (open):

@blancflms @dreamerwasfound @pettyandprettyy @watermelon2319 @yoongistangerine @danielle143 @canarystwin @catlove83 @joonie-tunes @staygirl1986 @singukieee @juju-227592 @bangtan4everr @revnamjinn @anjoellamorte @jewishmommy @talyaaas-blog @btskzfav @sugathy @btsizlyfe @00ihatesnaku @sophiaj650 @savagemickey03 @prettydancingdamzel @levislifeline @strawblueberrys @readerfia @deepestfacedevil @tired7o7 @svnbangtansworld @m00njinnie @nancynotperfectbutperfect @tinybasementmaker-blog

If your user is highlighted in bold I was unable to tag you, and please lmk if I forgot anyone!

Permanent taglist (open):

@viankiss @lizzymizzy-blogg @teddymoon06 @rln-byg @skyys-universe @misstressmina @ldysmfrst

If your user is highlighted in bold, I was unable to tag you!

#bts #hoseok #yoongi #namjoon #jin #jimin #Jungkook #Taehyung #bts x reader #bts ot7

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loulalover · 3 months ago

Text

sinful irony.

adam x fem! reader.

summary: Your forced into a Christian camp because of your mothers lies to her church friend. But after you see her son your sold. Only question is how do you seduce her Christian son or what if you already have?

cw/tw/tags: SMUT, porn with plot, camp counsellor au, m masterbation, oral f receiving, p in v, degrading, use of the word daddy, slight public sex, sort of dubious consent, mentions of pregnancy, virgin adam, adam is my own warning!! let me know if I've missed anything cause i'm SO tired!!

!a/n: i'm not liking this at all but i just want it done!! so i hope at least someone finds this enjoyable cause the formatting is killing me cause I tried to make all the text small and it kept crashing my tumblr so I’m done!! fuck being aesthetic I guess!! @sniigura

Eden camp where all teens went to learn how to be a better Christian’s and in all honesty there was no place better to go and as camp approached Adam was uncertain on what it would entail. He had perfected most if not all of the activities they did when he was a camper so now it was time to flex his skills to a bunch of teens and teach them what is right and what is wrong. Although his ideas of what right and wrong might be a bit misconstrued?

Maybe if his childhood was remotely normal he would have been a normal adult that goes out partying and drinks a shitload of alcohol during the summer but instead his pretentious mother had convinced him to be a youth leader at camp this year. Let’s give three big hoorays for Sera and her amazing ideas!

Adam was excited to an extent, but then there was Lucifer. The slimey son of a bitch who stole not one but two of his ex girlfriends. You can’t really come back from that and to top it all off he was the one that Adam was leading the boys Cabin with. The fact he’d even have to be in the vicinity of and share air with that fucker made his skin crawl with disgust l.

At least he had his best friend Lute would be there who was trying her best so keep her composure after being assigned a cabin with Lilith. Lucifers soon to be wife and Adam’s first ex girlfriend. If you could even call her that. The relationship was off? To say the least. And if it couldn’t get any worse Eve would be there. Of course she would, when this all started they were happily in love and talked about how going away and teaching at a camp for a couple weeks would be so beneficial to their relationship. But alas she would be there.

Sweet Eve, who wouldn’t love the ever loving, beautiful church girl? The girl who’d foster baby birds back to health after they fell from their nest and would go out of her way to help lost children in the supermarket find there parents. Adam. Adam did not love her. In fact he despised her in a way. Okay maybe not despised but it’s hard to love the girl who cheated on you with your ex best friend and ex girlfriend. Just because you never slept together!!

He kind of wished as the days approached that Eve would get into some horrific accident so he wouldn’t have to face her. As horrible as that sounds.

He just couldn’t imagine having to face them all after he walked into Eve’s apartment that day to them fucking like bunnies. It was a sight for sore eyes and as much as it hurt Adam to let go of Eve and all they’d been through together he couldn’t seem to make peace with the fact she’d sought out others and ended the relationship a week later. They still saw each other of course in places like University, church and most importantly the youth group they started running together in their senior year of high school for young teens wanting to learn about Jesus.

He should have just found a new youth group and started assisting there but Sera talked him out of it. She spewed nonsense about how the kids loved him and needed him and he was a great asset to their church. And with his ego boosted he continued as he was like nothing happened. But now camp was approaching where all he would see are these people and he couldn’t exactly ignore them.

Just then his phone pinged. The name read mom. Not that Adam ever called her that anyway.

[Mom]: Hello Adam, as camp is approaching I thought it would be a good idea for yous who are leading to set up a group chat. I have forwarded your number to the girl who is sharing a cabin with Eve and she’s going to set up a group. She looks forward to meeting you.

[Adam]: ok ma thanks for letting me know

That was all Adam sent. He didn’t want to start anything with her or further continue the conversation so he just let it be as it was. As he scrolled the through his socials he saw a couple messages pop up.

As he scrolled through the messages he picked up on the girls name. She seemed cool enough but no photos indicating what she looked like. There was her full name though. So without a second thought Adam searches your full name into instagram and only one account comes up. So he clicked and oh fuck.

She looked gorgeous. Her photos emanating how flawless she truly was. She surely didn’t look the part of a Christian camp leader though. How did she even get this gig? One of the requirements was being Christian.. He knew that for certain. Maybe he had her mistaken. Surely she was better than what she led on.. right? That’s at least what Adam hoped as he turned his phone off and threw it somewhere on his bed and did his best to fall asleep. It was in vain though, fuck were you pretty.

Adam ripped down his boxers and rubbed at his member. He massaged his fingers over his tip and groaned as he pushed his head back into his pillows.

How did you have such an effect on him? Some prostitute looking whore who looked like she’s flash her tits to anyone. Adam wanted nothing more than to knock some decency into you. No well respected girl dresses like that. Right?

As Adam groaned again moving his fingers up and down his dick before fixating on the base. It felt good in a way. The pleasure Adam felt was indescribable but it was only pleasure he got from himself. He had never actually had sex.

It’s not like it was that big of a deal. So what if he hadn’t fucked a bitch, who needs to do that anyway? Not him, that’s for sure.

He had come close though. Not with Lilith even kissing Lilith was a struggle for the both of them and quite frankly was something they did a handful of times but with Eve he delved further. It did take them a while. Adam didn’t want to give into his unholy urges so he held out, like any responsible Christian boy would do.

Eve seemed understanding though he could sense her disappointment when he pulled away before they even got the chance to make out. He could see the looks of despair and how distant she acted after he turned down her further advances. She never communicated this verbally to him but he could sense it. He knew she longed for more and in a way it made him feel like she had the right to cheat. He always reassured himself that her decision was selfish and he had no reason to feel bad for someone’s wrong actions but sometimes late at night when he’s alone with his thoughts he wonders what would have happened if he’d just given in. Maybe then he wouldn’t be alone and she’d be here with him.

He remembers when he did give in though. They were in his apartment and they were making out. An odd occasion that Adam didn’t often indulge in. Our he wanted to appease her so he went along and her carried away. They undressed and hadn’t do en thought twice of the consequences until Sera had barged in. How she’d gotten in was beyond Adam bjr he was lectured for weeks after it and was made to go to confession to confess his sinful actions. From then on him and Eve went back to stage 1 which consisted on an arm wrapped around her while they watched movies, band holding and little pecks ok the lips. He could tell she was unsatisfied with how things had to be though.

Adam felt his dick twitch and could feel he was close to climax as he kept massaging his cock. He wishes you were here with him to help him. Wait no he didn’t? He didn’t even know you. Bur still you were beautiful. At least to Adam and as he kept rubbing he felt climax reaching and he let it cumming all over his hand and sheets.

He let himself feel the pleasure for a .2 seconds before the guilt settled in. He felt it in his gut the overwhelming sense of dread. What did he just do?

He immediately got up and wakes to the bathroom running the tap and squirting 5 pumps of soap onto his hands and lathering it, rubbing his hands together and soaking them under water and repeating the ritual 2 more times. He calms himself who’re returning to the side of his bed and gets down on his knees at the side of the bed and bows his head.

Adam prays. He prays for forgiveness and to help him overcome his lust. He prays and prays until he finally doesn’t feel ridden with guilt and gets up and turns on his TV. He pots on whatever show he can find and turns down the volume. It drowns out his thoughts and puts him to sleep quicker.

And just like that the days flew past and Adam was now boarding a bus. It was loud and full of teens who seemingly had bundles of energy even though it was 7am. Adam was trying to hype himself up while sipping the coffee Lute and him bought on the way here. It was going to be a long ride full of attempts to sleep and failing because whoever the fuck on the back of the bus is playing 2000s white girl tunes and screaming them like a banshee. He wasn’t going to say anything he was happy enough. Especially that he didn’t even have to ask to be sat with Lute on the ride there. Usually you were made to sit with whoever you were sharing a cabin with but under the circumstances Adam was allowed to sit with Lute and Lucifer and Lilith sat together instead.

He was happy enough with the arrangement and stuck his headphones in. Lute was already sat by the window scrolling away on her phone. It was too early to expect her to socialise and in all honesty he didn’t want to socialise either. He needed sometime to recoup to even be able to physically live when he’d be sharing a room with Lucifer and a bunch of rowdy teenage boys for the next couple weeks.

It wouldn’t be terrible especially not when the pretty girl he masterbated too with sitting across the aisle from him. Though she was chatting up his ex girlfriend Eve and for a split second he wished he was her instead. What is he even thinking? He turns away from you and unlocks his phone scrolling through whatever he can to keep himself occupied as they set off.

You had noticed Adam. In fact you’d found yourself into him the moment you met his mother at your parents house.

You were visiting for the afternoon when you met Sera. She was a tall, elegant woman who held herself well, with dark skin and vitiligo on her cheeks and white almost luminescent eyes and lashes that made them stand out even more. She was slender and had the most beautiful grey ringlet curls you had ever seen. This is was Sera? You kind of assumed Sera was some blonde bitch who had several different baby daddies and lived off church’s money but this lady carries herself with dignity and was self assured.

She was delighted to meet you, said she’d heard so much about you. You were sure she hadn’t though. Your parents had a habit of lying when it came to you. You felt guilty that you weren’t the daughter they envisioned but they weren’t the parents they envisioned themselves to be either. So you sat there indulging in your parents lies. It was somewhat comical of how much they came up with. But what can you say it was funny. Key word was. When she started talking about how her sons Christian camp needed more leaders you felt your stomach drop.

You had half the mind to tell her your parents had been lying for years and you were in fact nor the perfect, church going daughter she had envisioned and having your parents be blackballed from the church community. But you played it off and said you would think about it and expressed pity. She looked delighted and told you her son has just broken up with his girlfriend a couple months ago. How he was perfect marriage material and how you two would make a lovely couple.

Your head was spinning. Okay first this ladies trying to convince you to go to some random camp and help out there and now she’s talking about marrying you into her family? She’s crazy especially when she brought up about her son being a virgin.

‘His names Adam and I think you too would get along great.’ She chimed and she sipped on some of the tea your mother had brewed a couple of minutes prior who stood by the counter sipping a cup of coffee looking on edge. Probably in case you slipped up on some heinous lie she told.

‘I’m sure he’s great.’ You smiled at her sipping away at your own coffee and internally trying to keep yourself sane.

‘Here look.’ She said momentarily pausing while flipping through her phone and pulling up a photo of her what you thought was going to be her dorky, repressed loser ass son who would probably live in his mothers basement till she died and he finally could have access to the whole house. But looking at the photo..

He was sexy and what can you say? You were easily bought. It helped you in other ways too!! Like you get extra credit from your university for working with kids. Totally justifiable. At least that’s what you told yourself. Damn you didn’t think you’d have a thing for conservative, Christian virgins but here you are on a bus to a Christian camp with one goal in mind. Fucking Sera’s son.

You sat down across the aisle from him and introduced yourself to Eve. You had spoken to her once or twice over text message and a couple times more in your camp counsellor group chat. But seeing her in person was a different experience.

She was etheral and you couldn’t help but feel inferior to a girl with such good looks and personality. She had dark skin and her hair was pulled into box braids. Her eyes were a deep chocolate coloured brown and looked soft. She had large breast and wide hips and stomach rolls.

She was beautiful and her smile radiated happiness as she introduced herself. She seemed happy and in her environment. She seemed the type of person who could be placed anywhere and just fit.

She told you all about her youth group and how she ran it with her now ex boyfriend. Adam.

Looking at her surely that couldn’t have been right? She was Adams ex girlfriend? She was gorgeous. The definition on beauty nobody could compare to what she looked like. It made sense though someone as gorgeous as her needed somebody to match her. And Adam and her fit like puzzle pieces intertwined they complimented each other insanely well. And he never had sex with her? If she even mentioned the word sex she would have been pinned to the bed immediately. You couldn’t understand why Adam would reject her sexual advances. Surely she’d made some, so why did he say no to her? She was the kind of woman who could make Victoria secret models feel inadequate. You wondered if that was why they had broken up. You tried not to make assumptions as you chatted to her. Maybe cracking Adam would be harder than you first assumed.

It was a long drive and felt even longer now that you had arrived. Your cabin was far and your case with heavy and your eyes practically drooped with exhaustion and your head hung low but you pulled through. You greeted the girls in your cabin warmly and expressed your excitement. You weren’t actually too happy to be here but you weren’t going to let anyone here know that.

‘Alright guys, lets get going! When we get to the cabin you’ll have fifteen minutes to get sorted and then you’ll have free time for the next two hours before dinner.’ She chimed cheerfully. That was getting old. How is she so cheerful after travelling six hours with one stop? Still you smiled as you pulled along your heavy ass suitcase.

‘Need help with that?’ Someone from behind you asked.

He sounded even hotter. Was this grounds for having children? Nope not even close. But it was him. Adam. And fuck was he sexy. Even sexier than the photos you’d seen of him.

‘Yeah.’ You stated smiling turning to face him. ‘You think you could help me with it?’ You questioned a tilt in your voice. You don’t exactly know what it is but men love to play the strong, dominant, I’m so great card a lot. Especially because they presume your helpless. You don’t necessarily like playing the ‘I’m so helpless’ princess card but if it’d stroke his ego enough..

‘Of course babe,’ he smirked smugly winking at you. ‘names Adam.’ He said picking up your case with ease and walking ahead up to your cabin.

Adam was a big guy, you knew that from the photo you say of him but seeing him in person was a different experience. Especially when he’s just picked up the case you could barely bring to your car and trug to the bus driver with ease did something to you. Maybe your just ovulating.

You followed him along with your easy carry on bag, smiling at him as he made it up the hill. ‘Thank you so much.’ You smiled at him looking up at him and slightly batting your eyes. Is that sexy? You hope it is.

He seems to think so as a grin plasters his face and he looks you up and down. ‘No problem gorgeous.’ He states looking back down the hill he sees a group of boys walking the same direction.

‘Look at that our cabin’s our right next to each other.’ He states smirking and winking at you.

‘What luck.’ You whisper loud enough for him to hear. ‘It’s been so nice to meet you Adam but I gotta go unpack.’ You state backing away smiling at him.

His face drops for a second then contorts and he looks angry and he looks like he’s going to say something but he doesn’t and just like that he’s back to smiling. ‘Yeah me too, but after orientation with our cabins the counsellors are going swimming down in the lough. You should come.’ He winks.

‘Yeah I will, see you then.’ You wink back retreating up the steps to your cabin and pulling your case into your assigned room.

The rooms are nice, cosy actually. The bed’s are made of wood with red bedsheets and white pillows and it reminds you of one of those winter cabins you’d find in the Christmas movies. They’re tiny to preserve space but you’d rather that than a bunk bed. You both have a wardrobe each and a mirror. The room isn’t terrible but you’d have to make do with the space at least for now. So unzipping your case you start to unpack your clothes and shoes into the wardrobe.

‘Hey, you nearly ready?’ Eve chimed while popping head round the corner of the door.

‘Yeah, practically all done.’ You replied.

‘Great, I forgot to tell you we’re all going swimming later, well the counsellors. You want to join? I totally want to get to know you better and everyone else would love to meet you.’ Eve said. She was so soft spoken and genuine it made you want to hug her.

‘Oh yeah, Adam mentioned that to me I’d love to.’ Her face contorted for a second into confusion but it’s almost like she realised what face she was making and went back to making her perky, happy face.

‘I’m SO excited, I can already tell we’re gonna have the BEST time together.’ She said walking towards you and taking your hand. Her hands were warm but not in a sweaty way but in a comforting way, it felt like taking a mother’s hand warm and soft.

‘Me too.’ You replied smiling at her as she kept your hand in hers dragging you to the living room for orientation.

Walking to the lough wasn’t long but Eve made it longer by pointing everything out and practically speaking to everyone she had any relation too or people she did not know. She’d been here every year since she was thirteen and now she was in her twenties. Doesn’t she get bored, apparently not.

Walking down the steps you took off your cover on and flip flops and placed your towel and phone on top of them. Scanning the lough your eyes fell on Adam who was sitting on a paddle board looking bored but as he looked up and locked eyes with you he smiled waving you over to him. So You pushed yourself down the ladder and into the water.

It was hell, the water was cold and any joy you had before this had been sucked out of you. Your face said it all as a little farther in the distance you could her Adam laughing at you. You glared at him as you made your way over.

‘You good down there?’ He asked still laughing slightly.

‘No.’ You quivered, teeth chattering. ‘Help me up I’m freezing.’ You practically yelped but Adam looked down at you with a shit-eating grin.

‘Uh-no, I’m good.’ He smirked chuckling to himself.

‘Fu- frick.’ You cursed changing your word mid sentences. Christians don’t curse. ‘I’ll do it myself.’ You stated repeating the ‘I can do it’ mantra in your head. You pulled yourself up slightly your hands clasped on the edge as you pulled yourself further but Adam just had to be an asshole. Of course he did as he pushed his foot towards you and pushed it against your chest causing you to plummet backwards under the water.

As you resurfaced choking on the water you’d just inhaled Adam cackled at you and your predicament. You clasped at the side of the paddle board and you rubbed under your eyes blinking the water out of them to help you see.

‘Here babe.’ Adam calls helping you up and sitting you beside him. You open your eyes fully looking at him.

‘You got a little makeup.’ He states rubbing the black mascara marks on your cheeks away with his thumb. You lean into his touch as he cups your cheek and squishes it slightly. You push away and smile as him bring your knees close to your face. He scrunches his nose and pushes you back off the paddle board and jumps in. You screech as he swims away and you try to catch him. You play around with him till the other counsellors announce they are going back to shower. You stay back with Adam. It’s not like you could use the shower if Eve was in it.

Adam sighs as he lays back on the paddle board you previously sat on. You lay beside him tired out yourself. ‘I fucking hat it here.’ He groans placing his hands over his face. Your surprised ro hear him curse but you turn to him before turning your head back to the sky.

‘Any particular reason?’ You question trying not to pry but what can you your a major gossip. And a slut but that’s besides the point.

‘That fucker Lucifer and his soon to be wife Lilith the fucking snakes.’ He hisses. ‘Stole my fucking girl and now I have to see her everyday and get reminded that she fucked them.’ He went silent.

‘That sucks.’ You sigh. You don’t really have anything else to say apart from that. You weren’t really sure if anything you said with help.

‘Yeah it really does, but fuck her she’s missing out.’ He puffs his chest with somewhat pride. Okay he bounces back quick.

‘From what exactly? A virgin?’ You sneer, not with malice but more jokingly.

‘Who said I was a virgin?’ He yells, sitting up and dramatically looking at you. You have half the mind to tell you his mother told you but you don’t.

‘I can tell.’ You state back to him as he glares at you before looking away embarrassed.

‘And your not?’ He queries.

‘A virgin? Hell no, lost that a LONG time ago.’ You laugh at his shocked expression before an idea pops into your head.

‘Hey Adam?’

‘What?’ He questions.

“Wanna see something?” You question lips curling into a tight smirk. Adam nods hesitantly unsure of what kind of surprise you’d pull in the middle of the lake.

You slowly and carefully lifted down the top piece of your bikini exposing your breast and hardened nipple.

The shock on Adam’s face was all you needed to see as you swiftly lifted your bikini back up to cover yourself again and giggled.

You placed your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself afloat and giggled “Do you like that?” You mused. He sputtered on water as he tries to recollect himself. Was Sera sure this girl was Christian?

You giggled at him as you swum back, he followed in toe grabbing his stuff.

‘You know if you wanna learn I’ll teach you.’ He looked away obviously flustered before flipping you off and cussing you out. You started to walk off but before you did you turned around and spoke.

‘Oh yeah and Adam? You might wanna fix that before the meeting, not very professional you know?” You smirk suggestively, attempting to make eye contact with the more than flustered man to no avail. Turning on your heels you walked off back to your cabin to unpack the rest of your shit you hadn’t got to before orientation and shower before your dreaded meeting. You heard him yelling in the distance. Something about how you could only dream of sucking his dick? Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The meeting went by fine but you could see Adam stare at you every so often and his boner was gone. At least he knew how to do something you thought. As you sat by the campfire roasting marshmallows with your cabin and conversing. You could feel Adam’s gaze on you but you ignored it choosing to leave him to make the first move, which may take a while. So as you packed up for the night as walked back to the cabin hearing Adam call you wasn’t what you expected. His cabin was all packed in for the night as he walked towards you.

‘You forgot something earlier, come on it’s on our balcony.’ He mumbled dragging you along inside. The cabin layout was basically the same as yours and you could hear boys chattering and moving around and room light’s under closed doors. You walked towards the balcony with Adam. Walking outside he closed the door behind him and walked you over to where you couldn’t be seen behind the curtain.

‘What’d I l forget?’ You questioned. You didn’t remembering leaving anything but to be fair you we’re forgetful and didn’t realise until the last possible moment that you forgot something so.

‘This.’ He said approaching you and pulling you into him. He met your lips and kissed you. He placed his hands on your hips and picked you up placing you on the nearby table. You clung your arms around his neck pulling at his hair and deepening the kiss. He groaned as your tongues clashed together. He leaned you back breaking away from the kiss and sucking at your neck. Fuck you we’re gonna have to cover that but you didn’t have the willpower to make him stop as he moved down to between your legs. He looked up at you like a lost puppy. He didn’t know how to proceed.

You sat back up and undid your pants pulling them off. Adam copied and watched as you pulled down your underwear and showed him your pussy. He looked in awe.

‘Wanna eat me out?’ You asked. He nodded moving his hands to your thighs as you leaned back down.

Adam was hesitant at first but quickly got the hang of it as he licked up your clit. A moan escaped your mouth your legs threatening to close around his head. Adam suddenly gained momentum as he sloppily started making out with your pussy, sucking away at you as if he was drunk.

You bit down on your hand to prevent your moans from becoming louder and risking getting caught as Adam kept his pace as he tongue fucked your cunt and you could feel the pleasure start to pool in your stomach and you could feel yourself getting close.

Adam mumbled against your pussy ‘You taste so good.’ He whispered before continuing to kiss as your hole.

Adam’s nose moved against your cunt and you felt yourself beginning to release and you came undone around him moaning his name. Adam wasted no time in licking up your cum.

As he moved away from your still wet pussy you could see his erection outlining his boxers. He moved to your lips sloppily against his. You could taste yourself on him but you didn’t seem to care as he pulled away and pulled off his boxers.

Looking down his dick was girthy and totally big. Fuck were you in for it if he could figure out how to use it. But he’d never used his tongue and was still one of the only guys to make you cum so he has to be doing something right.

‘I’m not using a fucking condom so let’s hope I knock some fucking decency into you slut.’ He groans as he slides his dick into your cunt.

It feels electric as you ride on the ecstasy as Adam pumps inside of you. He knows what he’s doing as he whispers curses and nasty words at you.

‘You like that whore? Tell me how much you like it?’ He grunts pulsing inside you still as you babble incoherent sentences totally high on his dick.

‘Use your words baby.’ He whispers into your ear. ‘Does daddy make you feel good?’ He questioned. The use of the term daddy in any other scenario would make you cringe but the way Adam said it made it sound sexy.

‘Yes.’ You hissed as he continued thrusting into you and hitting your G spot just right and just like that you came undone under Adam for the second time that night. He might be a virgin but he KNOWS how to fuck. That’s for sure.

Adam came soon after right inside you. Kind of made you wish you weren’t on the pill so you could have his baby.

Adam practically came in buckets to put it bluntly. His head was lying on your shoulder as he pulled out of you and you could feel the cum running down your legs. Hopefully nobody seems. But you couldn’t say you didn’t exactly wish that. You hoped someone would see in a way. Getting caught is thrilling and especially at a Christian camp.

Recollecting yourself you pulled up your undies and felt Adam’s cum mixed with your own squelch against them as it rubbed up against your already sensitive clit. You choked back a moan as you pulled your jeans back up buttoning them.

You sat at the edge of the table waiting for Adam to speak as he dressed himself. He walked towards you situating himself between you legs and lifting your chin up to softly kiss you. You were entranced in the kiss when you heard someone calling your name.

‘Fuck I gotta go.’ You whispered hearing Eve call your name. You pecked at Adam’s lips as you slid off the table and opened the door. ‘Goodnight Adam.’ You mumbled, winking at him and closing it behind you and running out the door to meet Eve and drag her back inside with you.

Adam leaned back against the table. Fuck was that was amazing. Just as he was about to get up to go back inside someone came out to meet him. It was one of his campers. The ones he was responsible.

‘Hey um Adam?’ Isaac called. He hummed as he moved next to him. ‘I have something to ask you but it’s kind of awkward.’ He trailed off looking to the ground.

Adam smiled at him. ‘Ask away, I’m here to teach you and guide you.’ The way he spoke differentiated between the kids and the way he spoke to you. It was kind of comedic how fast he could switch up from being a manwhore to a holy man. Vast difference between the two but Adam could be both.

‘You see I keep falling into lust..’ He mumbled. ‘And I’m really trying not too but I find it really hard. And I guess I was wondering how to deal with it? How you’d deal with it?.’ He questioned. He sounded exasperated of all options at this point and Adam was proud to guide him in the right direction. To tell him what he would do.

Suddenly Adam’s stomach dropped. Wait what did he do? Lust is a sin. But not only lust, sex. Sex before marriage is a sin. He just committed one of the most terrible sins and felt no remorse until a fucking child asked him? Is he being serious?

What had Adam done? He’d went against his beliefs and what he stood for. His morals something he swore to never do till marriage with a girl he JUST met. What had he done? How could he make up for this? No, no no. This can’t be happening it’s not real. Adam stumbled over his words and talked about prayer and reading the Bible and how it really helps and sent Isaac back to bed and he thanked him profusely as Adam smiled but inside he felt suffocated. How could he guide children and help them when he was going against everything he and they believed in? Adam knelt down on the floor and prayed. I mean what else could he do?

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