#Park Jimin

[girlatmirror]

the viscount who loved me | jjk

It was your sister’s season, and she was the diamond, while your season was still a year away. Though suitors could seek your hand already, it doesn’t excuse you for secretly pining after the viscount who courted her.

viscount!jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) morally gray yn and jk, sexism (c’mon it’s the 18th century what did u expect), sex (bye minors), it’s not sex centered tho, longing and yearning (bring real romance back), cheating (is it tho, idk u be the judge), u might get mad at the main characters, enemies to lovers, heavily inspired (or stolen) by my loves anthony and kate 😍😍, yn is the younger sister and has yet to enter her season, but she is in her twenties!! (not specified in the text, but i was thinking jk is like 27, yn’s sis is 24 and yn is like 22, just to clarify) is idk what else. ENJOY!

_

The fresh, sunny air of London on that day called you to leave the mansion and ride your horse, Cinnamon, into the forest, just as you did every morning that was suitable for a nice ride. It was not entirely proper to do so in that society, but they did not need to know about it. You always felt safe; you rode at a time of day when you were sure nobody would see you. You had a set time of 20 minutes; after that, you returned home, wearing a cloak with a hat that covered half your face. If someone were to catch you, you could merely lower the hat, and they would not know who you were. The last thing you wanted was to bring shame on your family, especially not in a society as cruel as that one.

You rode to your familiar place and felt the breeze of the wind in your hair; you felt free. It continued to be the beautiful, calm ride you were used to—until you heard the sounds of a man, seemingly talking to you.

"Miss?" the voice from afar called. "Miss, are you in trouble?" To your dismay, the voice came closer so quickly that you did not know where to go or what to do. If you were to ride deeper into the forest, you would get lost, and if you rode straight ahead, the man would see you either way. It seemed even this baggy cloak could not conceal your femininity as you had thought it would.

The man came nearer, and you turned your head so he would not recognize you.

"Miss, if there is a problem, I shall help you," his deep voice stated. "It is not suited for a young lady to be out here unchaperoned."

You did not say a word, your face still turned in the opposite direction. You did not think it through, and he turned his horse to face you, ducking his head to see you. You had never felt this silly in your life. You took off the hat hesitantly, revealing long curls and innocent, almost pleading eyes.

Before you sat the infamous Viscount Jeon on his horse, a most important figure of the ton. The gossip columns described him as a ‘rake through and through,’ yet he was as captivating as a summer’s night and as wealthy as the stars were numerous. Indeed, there was not a mother in the ton who did not dream of him marrying her daughter.

You were sure he recognized you as well; with your sister being the diamond of the season, there was not a single gentleman in London who did not know the family he wished to marry into.

"I know you," he revealed. "You are the daughter of Baron Ln. Miss, you should not be here alone. It is dangerous."

"I am not here alone, my lord; I am here with Cinnamon... and you are here, also," you stammered, hesitantly and nervously.

The viscount did not hide his amusement, chuckling while shaking his head. He found the entire sentence you had just said to be hilarious.

"You do not need to be scared; I shall not tell a soul about this encounter," he reassured you, still chuckling. "But I believe you should head home now, for your folks should get worried."

You listened to him, still flushed and slightly embarrassed, and headed home.

The Viscount Jeon certainly was gentler than what the columns wrote about him.

___

"Mother, I was unable to breathe in this corset. It was utterly ridiculous, and it elevated my bosoms up to the sky," you said, exaggerating, while your maid tied up the corset—who was, at that moment, your rival.

The last ball you attended had been the first of the season at the palace, where your beautiful sister, Nadia, had been chosen as the season’s diamond by the queen herself. You had been proud beyond measure; your sister was the eldest of your household and often played a secondary motherly role. She deserved to have the finest suitors begging for just a pinch of her attention.

"I did not have such a problem, sister, and my corset was just as tight, if not tighter, than yours," Nadia declared, looking down at her much flatter body.

"I cannot help but wonder why..." sarcasm left your mouth.

Since the queen’s announcement, your mother had not stopped rushing, running errands, investing in your jewelry collections, and buying dresses from the finest modistes in the city. Your mother had always been insatiable and prideful, yet you had never seen this side of her before.

"My dear Yn, your sister is the diamond of the season; she is destined to wed a most extraordinary gentleman, one who must possess both fortune and lands in locales of which we have never even heard, and court her heart with poetry. Such is the very least that the daughter of a most noble man is entitled to receive. She is the jewel of her season, which ensures that all eyes shall be upon her—and upon us. We shall create a most splendid impression at tonight's ball at Danbury House. We simply must," Lady Ln proclaimed, her pride evident as she gazed at herself and her two eldest daughters in the mirror. "Moreover, Yn, what is this lamentation regarding your bosoms? Such femininity is precisely what captivates a gentleman and stirs envy among the young ladies of the ton. You shall also find your match. Both of my daughters are undeniably the most beautiful women of the ton, nay, of the entire world!"

You and Nadia glanced at each other, trying not to laugh at your mother’s boasting. She had been excited to get her daughters married since they were born, always saying that marrying off a son was not as exciting and beautiful as marrying off a daughter. Your two older brothers had both gotten married in the last few years.

You did not like to admit it, but you had been dreaming of your prince charming since you were just a little girl, waiting to get married. Not because of the couples you knew, but because of the books you read that spoke of longing, making you feel as if you were living the character’s life.

"Lena, get the ladies ready; I shall attend to the little ones. They are out in the gardens, engaged in activities unknown to me," your mother commanded the maid, exiting the chamber with graceful haste to see what her mischievous twins were up to.

"Is it not amusing how mama calls Hana and Idris little ones despite their approaching age of sixteen?" Nadia shook her head, smiling. She admired herself in the mirror and told Lena to fix up her hair. "I must look perfect."

Nadia was a perfectionist through and through, the eldest daughter of a baron and his insatiable wife—a combination that could only produce a girl whose expectations for herself were high, too high for anyone to reach.

"You do look perfect. You are the diamond, Nadia; not a single soul in that ballroom shall utter an ill word about you—and if they do, it is out of pure envy," you said adoringly. "I must say, I cannot wait to meet my new brother; I bet he is a most handsome gentleman who shall ask you to dance, and in the morning, he shall call on you, saying how he cannot stop thinking about you and that you are as beautiful as a blooming flower."

Your teasing was accompanied by you dancing around playfully and blinking your eyes at a fast rate, which irritated your maid, who, of course, wouldn’t say a word to you beyond measure as she adjusted your dress. Nadia shoved your shoulder in a joking manner, smiling to herself.

"I shall find myself a love match, much like Baba and Mama—I desire a love like theirs; that is my only goal," her eyes communicated her feelings of yearn, while you nodded.

"You shall. You are your mother’s daughter, after all; you shall always get what it is you desire," you kissed her cheeks encouragingly, and she looked at you with thankfulness.

"Ladies! The carriages have arrived. Make haste!" Your mother’s demanding voice called from downstairs, resulting in you immediately strutting down the stairs.

___

The Jeon family had a reputation to uphold. They were known for their generosity, their welcoming spirits, their lavish homes, and their riches. The viscountess was nothing short of the perfect viscountess, continuing to be so, even after her husband’s tragic death a mere couple of years ago.

She intended to find herself a replacement that season, desperately wanting to marry off her eldest, the viscount. Her desperation did not come from a place of fear of undesirability; it was quite the opposite.

The viscountess feared her son might be looking for a wife for the wrong reasons. What she and her late husband shared was a love she wished for all of her children; yet her son seemed to see the world differently. He wanted a wife only to fulfill his duties and produce an heir.

"Jungkook, the search for happiness and love is not shameful. It is indeed the bravest thing a man can do—to listen to his heart and let it guide him," the viscountess tried to woo her son, who did not look up from his estate’s accounts ledgers. "You cannot hold interviews for eligible young ladies to find a suitable one; you shall know she is the one when you gaze upon her and converse with her for the very first time."

"When will you realize that what you and father had is the exception, not the rule? I am the viscount; I hold many responsibilities, and one of them is to wed a girl of good noble breeding to replace you as viscountess and produce an heir who shall lead this family when I am gone," Jungkook responded calmly. "I have indeed let my heart guide me; we are in agreement. I shall not continue with the interviews, as I have already found my future bride in Miss Nadia, the daughter of Baron Ln."

His mother was shocked at the revelation, looking at him with a glimpse of hope and wonder. "The diamond? Oh, how delightful! She must have great promise to have caught the eyes of the viscount."

She recalled the last ball when the queen announced Nadia as the diamond. Her son had not had a chance to talk to her that night, as the girl was occupied with many overbearing suitors and mothers.

"Yes, indeed, Mother. She is accomplished in literature, she plays many instruments, dances quite beautifully, and she comes from a most respectable family. She shall be my viscountess," he explained further. "We shall attend the ball at Danbury House tonight, united as one. Miss Nadia shall be there as well; we might find a suitable gentleman for Yoona if that is what she wishes." Jungkook was referring to his younger sister as he spoke.

"Wonderful," his mother’s eyes sparkled with joy.

___

The Jeon family arrived quite late, but in style. The viscount dressed in fitted trousers and a crisp white shirt that accentuated his strong arms and broad shoulders, his brothers dressed similarly, and his sisters in beautiful, rich silk gowns.

Jungkook was already on the lookout for a certain diamond who had caught the attention of the entire ton. He was not worried she would reject his advances; after all, he was the viscount, and there was not a single gentleman in London who could claim to be more eligible than him.

"Excuse me," he gracefully pushed through the people standing before the diamond, all waiting for a turn to speak with her. "I wish to dance with you, Miss Nadia."

As the voice of the viscount was heard, the stares of the ton overwhelmed Nadia, everybody in utter shock; the viscount, who mothers had been trying to get to look at their daughters for years, wished to dance with a girl in her first season out? How very surprising and envy-inducing.

Nadia nodded shyly, letting go of her very proud mother’s hand and accepting the viscount’s. She wondered where her sister was until she saw her at the drink stand fetching herself a lemonade.

"You are an excellent dancer, my lady," Jeongguk expressed, his hand in hers as they attracted all the eyes of the crowd.

"That is all your doing, my lord," she shyly answered, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "You are quite a natural."

Their conversation continued for the next few minutes. They discussed very trivial matters, but Jeongguk made sure to let her know that she had caught his eye.

Eventually, Nadia moved on to another gentleman, and the viscount disappeared out of sight.

After a while of proudly watching your sister dance beautifully with potential suitors, you decided to step outside for a while to catch a breath of fresh air.

You were not particularly in the mood for dancing that night.

"Do not tell me the Viscount Jeon is looking for a love match this season; what happened to the viscount who visited his courtesan at least once a day and enjoyed a good brothel show?"

As you walked into the garden of the grand Danbury House, you heard a conversation that sparked your interest. A group of men, including the viscount who had just danced with your sister, and a few others you did not recognize, were talking. Letting your curiosity wander, you remained silent and listened to their talk unfold.

"I assure you, I am not out to find a love match; I am simply fulfilling my duties. Is it so impossible to find a suitable wife for a viscount, one who has hips meant for birthing, the ability to woo me with her intellect, and does not require love? It is simply a struggle," Jeongguk complained.

"Not a lady in London lives up to the standards of the viscount, I presume," the other man standing laughed. "I have seen you dance and converse with the diamond of this season; tell me, Viscount Jeon, does the diamond live up to your standards?"

"She is a respectable young woman who I plan on getting to know better, but I must not judge yet, for I fear I do not know what I might find out," the viscount answered the man’s question with honesty.

By then, you were sure your face was red with anger. How dare that man, that filthy rake, talk about your sister or any woman that way? And to think that Nadia was completely smitten with him already, you could not believe this audacious behavior.

They continued talking about useless things.

"We shall go back inside, my lord; are you coming with us?" one of them asked.

"No, you go. I shall join you later," he said, wanting to stay in the fresh air.

He started moving in your direction, and you quickly tried to get away, but your foot caught something, making a loud noise. "Who is there?"

You knew you were as good as caught, so you revealed yourself. "It is you. Were you eavesdropping?"

It seemed his audacity continued.

There was a spark in his eyes as he looked you up and down, as if he suddenly remembered the encounter you had in the woods or as if he really enjoyed what he saw.

"I was not! Also, one cannot eavesdrop in a public space…" you defended yourself. "The words you spoke were filthy and jarring, my lord; I cannot help but believe it is best if you do not let your interest in my sister unfold."

He visibly became uncomfortable, the evidence in his face demonstrating that he knew he had said things that did not particularly present him well.

"Those words were not meant for your ears, Miss Yn," he said, attempting to maintain his composure.

"I heard them regardless. If this is you with all your guards down, if these are your true feelings, you are not a suitable match for my sister," you emphasized defiantly.

The viscount lifted his eyebrows at you, letting his eyes linger on your body until he gazed into your face again. "You do realize there is not a lady in London who does not seek the kind of marriage I offer? That is, besides the privileges of becoming the viscountess."

"Oh, is that true? You assume the ladies of London are so easily charmed by a pleasing smile and nothing more?" you questioned him, causing him to grin.

"You find my smile pleasing?" he smirked down at you.

"I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high. And I stand by what I said; you do not suit my sister," you spoke, crossing your arms.

He skimmed your body, an amusing expression forming on his face. "Miss Yn, I remember the morning in the park very well. It seems to me that you do not care much for the rules of this society; that is why you spoke to your viscount in that manner."

"My apologies, my lord. I simply feel defensive over my sister," you apologized, feeling blood rush to your face.

"That is quite all right; I know what it is like to have siblings one cares for," his smile was warm, which surprised you.

After a few awkwardly intense looks between you two, you decided to bow respectfully and leave the scene.

You left Jeongguk standing for a while, the smile on his face visible even from a long distance; your jasmine scent lingered, and your words never left his mind.

___

Ever since the announcement, suitors from all over London had come to visit the Ln house to spend time with the diamond.

You quickly got used to seeing gentlemen in your house every morning, conversing with your older sister while you pretended to be occupied with something else, secretly listening to their conversations.

That day was no different. It was exciting, to say the least, not only because you were happy for your sister, who was receiving all these presents and love, but also because it broadened your understanding of courtships; your sister was paving the path for you in the future.

Oh, how excited you were for your future marriage.

As you walked downstairs after waking up from a long night of carefree sleep, you could already hear the distant sounds of a suitor.

You smiled to yourself, walking into the spacious living room, where you found your mother and father sitting on one couch with smiles that spoke volumes.

As you entered the room completely and saw who your sister was talking to, your face began to drop.

It was him. The viscount.

The man whom you could not escape from, for some reason.

While they finished their conversation, your mother noticed you standing there. "Good morning, Yn! Look who came to visit your sister first thing in the morning! Greet the Viscount Jeon."

You bowed respectfully and begrudgingly spoke, "Good morning, my lord."

He simply smirked, reciprocating the greeting.

It was as if he was provoking you with his handsome face and effortless demeanor.

"I shall head home now," he announced, standing up from his seat. "Breaking my fast here was very lovely indeed, Lord and Lady Ln; I must thank you dearly."

They exchanged pleasantries and enthusiastic goodbyes, of course, not without the viscount promising to come back tomorrow around the same time.

As he stepped outside, you followed him, pretending to go on a garden stroll.

"My lord!" you called after him, making him turn around to you.

"Yes, Miss Yn?" he spoke with a tinge of teasing, which seemed to always be present when he spoke with you.

His coachman was patiently waiting, watching you two standing face to face.

"Why have you called on my sister?" you asked; you were always known for your bluntness, which was something you tried to work on.

The viscount sent you a questioning but amusing look before replying, "Am I not allowed to?"

You shook your head, trying to put your thoughts into words.

"You are allowed," you answered hesitantly. "But what I said to you at Danbury House, I meant. I do not believe you are the right man for my sister."

There was a short exchange of glances between you; you hoping he understood your concerns and him wondering how you gathered the audacity to speak to a viscount that way.

It was not that he was angry about it; he was merely surprised. He had never had a person talk to him that way.

"Miss Yn," he started, his voice low. "I believe your sister can make her own decisions, can she not? And I must say, she did not seem to have a problem with my presence at all… quite the contrary."

You knew he was right, but there was something in your intuition telling you that this would not work out; you looked at him and did not see your sister’s future husband.

Yes, he was wealthy, and he was quite handsome, but still… he was not the man your sister was looking for.

"I believe I know my sister better than you do, my lord," you insisted, as stubborn as you always were.

He simply chuckled. "I do not doubt it," before hopping into the carriage and waving goodbye to you.

You could not comprehend how severely irksome he was.

___

In the following weeks, Jungkook tried his hardest to impress your sister; calling on her, giving her extravagant gifts, attending events and balls seemingly only for her.

It felt like he could propose to her at any moment, and you did not like it.

Your sister, on the other hand, seemed to be very happy with the viscount’s affection for her.

Who would not be?

One day, your mother hosted a gathering in the diamond’s name—an opportunity for suitors to see your sister and make themselves known to her.

The Jeon family was invited and set to attend, but the invitation for the viscount was lost in the mail.

Jungkook was very busy that day; meetings and managing accounts and staff took up a great deal of his time.

He did not have time to prepare himself for the crucial task ahead.

After asking his brother, Namjoon, for help with the poetry he intended to read out loud at the Ln house, he read over the piece of paper and could not control his scoffs; he thought poetry might be the most deceptive tool of all.

Such pretty, empty words.

He ordered a carriage, hastily moving to make it to the party that he was so conveniently not invited to, and hoped for the best.

The doorman immediately let him in, obviously knowing who the Viscount Jeon was—a familiar face to all of London indeed. Marching in as if he owned the place, he found a huge gathering of gentlemen performing their talents—or lack thereof—to impress Nadia.

You and Nadia were sitting next to each other on the sofa; you wore a judging yet amused face, and Nadia looked very grateful for the time they took for her.

He dreaded that his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they did on your sister; you were wearing an accentuating, expensive gown and a classic updo, your expressive eyes drew him in.

"Please excuse my tardiness," Jungkook took his chance right when someone finished his performance, making a loud announcement that turned everybody’s head. "I shall read a poem I wrote for Miss Nadia.”

Your expression was hard to read; though you were certainly annoyed by his sudden appearance, there was something gleaming in your eyes that he could not overlook. Your eyes locked in a room full of people, something that seemed to happen quite frequently between the two of you. Your effect on him made him nervous to perform; for some reason, he cared for your opinion quite a bit.

Naturally, everybody respected the viscount and his wishes, giving him their full attention. Nadia’s smile was beaming; your mother was more than happy to see the viscount show further interest in her daughter, and the rest were in awe of the viscount, whose shell was very hard to penetrate to make such an effort for the diamond.

"What is it to truly admire a woman?" he read from a small piece of paper in his hand, and your heart began to beat faster than it should have. "To look at her and feel inspiration, to delight in her beauty, so much that all— all your defenses—"

Suddenly, he stopped; everybody in the room quieted as they attentively listened to his beautiful words. His sudden silence caught some off guard, including you, who sat there looking at him with longing eyes, and Nadia, whose smile slowly vanished. Whispers began to break out.

"My apologies, I cannot do this," the viscount stated, resulting in Nadia frowning slightly. "Truth be told, I am not a man of poetry; those words are someone else’s entirely."

A few quiet gasps could be heard around the crowd of people, but Jungkook did not shy away from speaking the truth.

"Miss Nadia... I cannot offer you pretty words and rhymes, but I assure you, when it comes to action and duty; I shall never be found lacking."

Your breath hitched in your throat, as if his words were hitting you in your chest.

There was a part of you that was grateful for his honesty; the probability that your sister would not want to continue a courtship based on a false perception.

But there was another part that hated his honesty; why did the man you were supposed to hate repeatedly find his way into your heart by revealing sides of him you felt drawn to?

You knew the viscount did not want a love match.

And you loathed him.

So why did your chest burn with every word he spoke?

You could tell your sister was lost for words, watching the viscount with curious eyes.

"Nadia..." your voice came out smaller than you expected. "If you wish for him to leave, I—"

But your sister’s response shocked you. She stood up and clapped her hands, a sign of approval for the viscount’s words.

Others started joining her, but you stayed put in your place.

Jungkook’s growing smile beamed, feeling relieved that Nadia didn’t seem to mind his lack of verbal affection.

"Nadia," you murmured to your sister. "Did you not hear what he said? He cannot offer you the love that you long for."

Nadia let out an understanding "I know," before explaining herself, "I have come to accept that. I do not need a love match that can turn into an incompatible marriage in the future; I now merely desire a stable, harmonious marriage, and I believe the viscount can offer that to me."

You did not know what to do besides sigh and nod. "I just want you to be happy, Nini."

Your sister took your hand and lovingly squeezed it before giggling. "I do hope you and the viscount can find common ground throughout our marriage."

You simply awkwardly smiled at her to mask the storm brewing inside you.

She got up to confront the viscount, while you sat on the couch, staring into nothingness while contemplating the confusing feelings that were so foreign to you.

___

With every passing day and night, Jungkook found himself consumed by thoughts of you.

You appeared in his dreams, haunting him like a beautiful ghost, the face behind his sleepless nights.

He was aware of the problematic nature of the situation—courting one sister while dreaming of the other was not something a gentleman did.

But your beauty resembled summer nights and hidden love letters, while your resistant character was consuming and complex; yet he saw kindness in your eyes.

To be truthful, he could not stop his thoughts surrounding you since that morning in the park—the first time you two talked, the first time he heard your beautiful voice.

While you swore you would not admit it to a living soul, you felt similarly.

The viscount refused to leave your mind, appearing in your dreams unannounced and causing havoc inside your heart with every moment you stayed in or out of his presence.

You could not bear it.

Not only did the viscount consume you, but shame accompanied him.

But you promised yourself it was a fleeting moment, and he told himself to suppress his feelings.

___

"My dears, we have received an invitation from Jeon House, inviting us for a week to their country residence in order to continue the courtship away from the ton’s attention; is that not lovely?" your mother spoke, excitement evident in her voice. She was sat beside your father, who was paying more attention to the pie.

"Ah, yes, I’m afraid I cannot join you for that trip; I have business to attend to here in the city," your father spoke, placing a reassuring hand over your mother’s. "But I am certain you will handle it yourself, dear."

Your mother simply nodded and smiled, still in a very happy state about where her daughter’s courtship was headed. Nadia was sat next to you with a similar shy smile on her face.

You, on the other hand, could not help but feel a strange sensation; it was so foreign and something you could not describe. You loved seeing your sister happy, yet there was always a selfish voice in your head.

What if the viscount were to propose?

You began to imagine that scenario in your mind, and you did not like the thought of it at all.

But you feared it wasn’t because of your ‘hatred’ for the viscount, but because of something that was quite the opposite.

___

After packing, organizing carriages, and your mother stressing the entire day, you finally made your journey to the countryside.

It was only your mother, your sister, and you, as your mother thought your younger siblings were better off at home with the housekeeper.

You felt beautiful, dressed in the finest clothes, the most beautiful cosmetics put on your already lovely face. But you were in an undeniable state of distress.

Just as you stepped out of the carriage after four long hours, you were met with the friendly faces of the Jeon family.

Your eyes immediately met the viscount’s, who always seemed to have a certain look of yearning and some sort of pain when he saw you. You locked eyes with his deep brown ones, which somehow spoke a thousand words. His nostrils flared slightly, and it was as if you were both in a trance, unable to take your eyes off each other.

You shared a moment swimming in his eyes before he slowly diverted his gaze elsewhere.

Somehow, he looked even more handsome than the last time you had seen him.

You rued those feelings, the tingle you felt near him, the desperate need to be in his strong arms, to be the only one he knew to love—those feelings you had only read about in books, the tingling in body parts you were taught not to speak of.

But more than that, you cursed yourself for feeling them; how dare you think about your sister’s intended that way?

Were you a girl of no upbringing? Were you not a lady intended for marriage in just less than a year? It was breaking not only your soul but your perception of yourself to be plagued by these feelings; but you knew it would break you more to betray your sister, so you knew you had to stay quiet.

Amidst your overwhelming thoughts, a graceful young lady who was about the age of your older sister and bore a great resemblance to the viscount approached you, right after greeting your mother. She stood next to the viscount, and unbeknownst to you, noticed the shared glances of longing between the viscount and you, surprised to see her usually earnest brother so taken by a girl.

"You must be Miss Nadia," she spoke with a gentle smile. "I am Miss Yoona, the viscount’s younger sister. I have heard very much about you. You are even more beautiful than he described."

You bowed respectfully, yet you did not have the words to express that you were not who she thought you were.

Jungkook stepped in, embarrassment slightly evident on his face as he coughed a little. "Yoona, that is not Miss Nadia; that is her little sister—Miss Yn."

He then pointed to your sister, who was greeting the viscountess. You saw a look of confusion on Yoona’s face.

After everybody greeted each other, you settled into the rooms assigned to you and made yourselves at home.

The rooms were spacious, clean, and very elegantly decorated.

The Jeons were indeed a very generous family.

You suppressed the thought of how lovely it would be to marry into the family, as it was just a thought for you, but the reality for your sister.

And you did not want to hurt your sister or yourself.

___

Despite the comfortable beds and the expensive silk fabric of the sheets, you could not sleep.

Not only because you were not used to sleeping on foreign beds in foreign houses, but because, if your mind could not rest, you could not.

Nadia, on the other hand, had fallen fast asleep on the bed next to yours.

You needed something to distract you from the chaos in your head; a glass of cold water or a breath of fresh air would do.

As silently as you could, you got out of bed and started wandering the halls of the grand Jeon house with a lamp in your hand.

It was magnificent.

You breathed in the warmth, smiling to yourself; it was as if the house knew what a loving family owned it.

While walking towards nothing specific, you stumbled into a large room, empty of people and full of books.

You entered it with a calm heart, grabbing one book after another, taking in the beauty of the written words.

Your calmness was short-lived as you heard the huge door open. You gasped loudly and held up the lamp to see who it was.

Before you stood the viscount in a nightshirt that modestly exposed his muscular arms. He looked handsome, even at nighttime.

"Are you not able to sleep, Miss Yn?" he asked while fully entering the room.

You shyly turned your whole body toward him, feeling exposed in your silky nightgown that clung to your every curve.

Feeling his eyes flicker over you, a sense of timidity washed over you. "No... I cannot seem to fall asleep. I do apologize for roaming around without permission, my lord; I simply could not resist these many books."

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly.

"You do not need to apologize," he assured you, now standing in front of you. "This is...was my father’s library. He read and collected books from all over the world. He was a very well-read man."

"May his soul rest easy," you softly sighed, pouting slightly at the mention of his deceased father. "He sounds like an extraordinary man."

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "He was. I would not be the man and the viscount that I am today if it were not for him."

You did not answer, simply making space for a short moment of beautiful silence between you. Your eyes were intertwined with his deep ones; you felt as if you could dive into them.

"Can I ask you a question?" he suddenly asked; you simply nodded. "Why is it that you are so opposed to the idea of me marrying your sister? Do you truly hate me so?"

You broke the eye contact for a second, trying to gather your answer, while your heartbeat undeniably quickened. "I do not hate you, my lord. I simply worry for my sister. I want the very best for her."

The viscount came closer to you, chuckling again, exposing his barely visible dimples. "And you believe that I cannot offer her the best?"

Your arms were now touching, sending electricity through your body.

"I simply cannot forget what I overheard in the gardens at Danbury House," you answered his question as confidently as you could.

Jungkook’s eyes slightly darkened at your words. "Those words were not for your ears, Miss Yn."

You started to become defensive, letting out a "But I did hear them regardless."

He poked his cheek with his tongue, his nostrils flaring up with mild anger, stepping closer to you until there was hardly any space left between you. "You do not know how much you aggravate me, Yn Ln."

You now felt his fresh breath against your face, causing dizziness.

"And you," you uttered quietly in response, your eyelids becoming heavier. "You believe you do not vex me? I have only grown to accept your presence for my sister’s sake, but only God knows how long I will last in this... this lie."

Jungkook tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in to whisper into it. "This lie that you insist upon, what is it exactly? That you and I vex each other... or that we cannot seem to get away from one another?"

His voice was low and thick, tinged with a hint of teasing. You slightly backed away, but only to meet his dark eyes, which seemed to challenge you.

He leaned in until his lips were almost brushing against yours.

"My lord," you spoke in a soft whisper. "I—"

The sound of the door opening interrupted you.

Before you could get away from each other, a shocked Yoona witnessed the scene; as quickly as she entered, she left again, closing the door after saying a rushed "I am so sorry.”

You separated from Jungkook immediately after, running out in embarrassment and shame, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the library.

You could not believe what you had done.

___

Dinner with the Jeons was incredibly amusing; they were a big, loving family who were not afraid to share jokes and stories, even in front of guests.

To say you enjoyed yourself at dinner would have been an understatement.

In a moment of beautiful chaos, everybody laughed while simultaneously discussing intellectual topics. Jungkook raised his glass and stood up to make an announcement.

He was seated at the head of the table.

"I would very much like to start my toast by thanking our dear guests for taking their time to visit us at our country house. We are very delighted by your presence here with us," he started his tasteful speech. "Miss Nadia, it has been a delight to get to know you further. It is safe to say the Baron and Baroness Ln deserve praise for raising such an upstanding, demure woman... I would like to ask you a question, Miss Nadia."

While he spoke, the entire room fell silent, everybody attentively listening. His words added suspense to the atmosphere, making everyone wonder what he wanted to ask her.

It was obvious what everybody immediately thought of—for he was most likely going to ask for her hand in marriage.

Your mother and Nadia exchanged excited looks while you felt a thick lump form in your throat. The Jeons were all looking at Jungkook with an air of anticipation, waiting for him to finally speak the words.

Yoona tried her best not to gaze upon her brother with a frown of disapproval after she experienced whatever it was that happened between him and you the other night.

Jungkook began to awkwardly cough and put on somewhat of a feigned smile. "I wanted to ask you if you were ready for a game of pall-mall with this family or if you’d rather spare yourself the mayhem."

The whole table broke out in laughter—partially because they genuinely laughed and partially to cover up the awkwardness of the situation.

But you did not laugh, and neither did your sister.

"I would be... honored to play a game of pall-mall with you and your family, my lord," your sister tried to mask her sadness playfully.

During the rest of the dinner, your hand was placed on your sister’s back, soothingly running it up and down her spine.

___

Hours after the dinner, it was nighttime when you were supposed to be asleep, but you and Nadia found yourselves sitting on the bed—her head on your lap and your hand in her hair.

You always comforted each other in non-ideal situations, but this time felt different; it was the first time you felt you had wronged your sister, being the reason for her despair.

"Perhaps the viscount does not wish to propose because of you," your sister suggested, looking up and trying to gauge your reaction.

Your breath slightly hitched as you felt your cheeks warm.

"Uh—whatever do you mean, sister?" you carefully asked.

Nadia gave you a knowing look, presumably confused as to how you did not understand what she meant.

"The two of you loathe one another!" she exclaimed, her words making you sigh in relief. "He is probably under the impression that you would not approve."

You chuckled lightly at the irony. "Nini, he does not care what I think! I am your younger sister, not Baba or even Mama. Even if I do not approve, I do not make the decisions for this family; Baba does."

Your sister nodded but elaborated further, "I know, but there is something in my heart telling me that you are the reason he is so... reluctant."

Your heart skipped a beat, hoping she would not come to the right conclusions, wondering how you could steer her away from thoughts that could possibly lead to the destruction of your sisterly relationship.

"It is not as if I am desperate to marry him, but I believe it would make Mama and Baba unbelievably happy if I were to marry the viscount," she continued, sighing as she absentmindedly played with her hair. "He is wealthy, and he comes from a great family... I do not want to disappoint them."

"If the viscount does not wish to propose to you, it is not because you are lacking, Nini. You shall find wealthy suitors in every city you visit," you stated your opinion. "But I shall talk to him about it if that is what you wish."

Nadia jumped up from your lap, now facing you.

"I should very much like that, Yn," she admitted.

You gave her a gentle smile before getting up to pay the viscount’s office a visit.

His office was on the other side of the mansion—a long way to walk—but with your thoughts running wild, you did not feel the length of the walk.

You knocked on his door hesitantly and entered after he called out, "Come in."

He was seated at his paper-covered desk, staring down with intensity before looking up and seeing you.

"Miss Yn," he addressed you with a trace of surprise in his voice. "Is everything quite all right?"

You did not feel like wasting time, so you jumped right to your point.

"You have been set on courting my sister despite my every objection, and now you plan to cast her aside?" you accused, your tone defensive. "What has she done to deserve this?"

His eyes darkened; he momentarily forgot about the paperwork, getting up from his chair to walk up to you.

"It is not her," he raised his voice. "It is you."

His honest words felt like a gentle hit in your face; your intuition knew what he meant.

"But I am to marry next season!" you exclaimed reactively.

"You believe that is what I desire you to do?" he shouted, his jaw clenched. "There is not a thing you can do—not a corner on this earth that you can travel to—that will free me from this torment."

He continued, "I am a gentleman; my father raised me to act with honor, but that honor hangs by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence."

"You are the bane of my existence... and the object of all my desires," the viscount added, almost in agony, coming closer to you, whispering in your ear. "Night and day, I dream of you. And when I—do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you..."

Your breath hitched; your tight dress accentuated your breasts as your breath quickened with every word he spoke with every step he took closer to you.

"I did not ask for this," you finally got the chance to talk, facing him directly, barely an inch away. "To be plagued by these feelings... being distracted every time you enter the room, hiding those feelings from my sister... I did not ask for any of it."

"If I were to wed your sister, that would bind me to you for eternity," he stated, stepping away from you. "And I would spend my whole marriage dreaming of you, wanting you, longing for you... until the last thread of my honor snaps. Is that the future you want for us? For your sister?"

You shook your head, unable to say anything.

"Then I shall not go forward with this courtship," he declared, his eyes burning into your skin. "If that is what you wish."

You slightly shook your head—not out of disagreement, but as a signal to yourself to stop the urge to melt into him, a dizzying feeling taking over you.

"It is very much what I wish, my lord," you admitted in a whisper. "I could not bear it..."

He stepped closer again, now breathing your air. "What could you not bear?"

Your fingers grazed his and it felt like a fire ignited inside you.

"I could not," you whispered into his ear, fingers tapping gently against his thick arms. "I could not bear the sight of you with her."

Jungkook leaned into your touch, his eyes closing from the overwhelming urge to embrace your whole body.

"Yn..." he softly breathed into your ear. "All I find myself thinking about—all I find myself being able to breathe for—is you. Do you think I want to be in this position? Contending with these thoughts of wanting to be nowhere except with you. Wanting to run away with you. Acting on the most impure, forbidden desires, no matter... how much I must remind myself I am a gentleman and you are a lady."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a sensation between your legs, pressing them together. He continued, "It is maddening how much you consume my every being."

You grazed your hand further down his arms, eyes locked and bodies almost pressing against each other; if anyone were to catch you, it would be scandalous.

"No," you protested in a whisper. "It is you— you who has thrown my world off its axis, you who has made me question my sanity, you who consumes my every thought, so do not dare to blame me... do not blame me."

Your lips brushed against each other, his breath hitting your lips and your breath hitting his, before they finally collided and became one in a passionate kiss. His hands wandered down to your defined waist, grabbing onto you as if you would fly away.

Your hearts were racing; he cupped your face with one hand and fiddled with your dress with the other; you melted into one.

"Tell me you want this," Jungkook insisted in a breathy, aroused voice.

"I want this, my lord," you purred against him, before gently biting into his lower lip. "Teach me everything you know."

Jungkook had no self-control in that moment, feeling like an animal in the wilderness.

He loosened the ties of your dress with an urgent hand, and you felt the cool air caress your skin as the fabric fell open. Your breasts, heavy and full, spilled out of the dress, begging for his attention. Jungkook's eyes locked onto them, his pupils dilated with desire.

His hands wandered down to your hips, gripping the curve of your bottom through the thin fabric of your undergarment. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he pulled you closer, his mouth still devouring yours. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the tension in his body a testament to the passion that burned between you.

"Are you certain?" he asked once again, his hands working to remove your undergarments.

You simply nodded, too dizzy and aroused to form a sentence.

Your hands wandered over his shirt, playing with the buttons before tugging on it, urging him to take it off, which he did, revealing his strong arms and chest. You kept your hands glued to them while he took off your bodice, revealing your full breasts to him.

Lifting you up and sitting you down on his desk, he immediately massaged your breasts and took one in his mouth, licking and sucking on it, making you moan in pleasure. "I have dreamt of this very moment for so long, Yn."

You ‘hmm’ed in response, grinding your hips against his in search of friction. You felt a big bulge in his pants, moving your own up and down on it, resulting in quiet groans from Jungkook.

"I..." you tried your best to formulate a thought. "I am so... sticky between my legs, my lord; is that normal?"

Jungkook chuckled amidst his arousal, leaning in to plant a short kiss on your lips. "Yes, my love; that is quite a good sign. Do not worry."

You felt comfortable with him; you admitted, "I have the same feeling quite often when I think of you," without realizing the implications.

Jungkook threw his head back in desire, unable to contain his urges to take you right there.

He took your hand in his and led it to his pants.

"Feel it," he urged, his voice simmering with lust as you began to grab his hardness and gently rubbing it. "That is what you do to me, Yn."

You tugged at his pants, and he quickly took them off, first revealing his drawers, which he removed as well.

He could not waste any more time.

As he revealed his large penis, you gasped.

"Do not be afraid, my love," he assured. "I will be very gentle.”

You were seated on the desk, and he was standing before you, his naked parts touching, with gasps and moans filling the entire room.

He positioned himself in front of you, looking into your eyes to ensure you were ready, only to be met with your awaiting gaze.

"What are you going to do now?" you hesitantly asked, hands on his bare arms.

His hands were placed lovingly on your soft waist, soothing you to ensure you were comfortable. "I will enter you now."

You nodded, not fully understanding the idea.

You blamed the mamas who were too ashamed to speak of essential things like that one.

Slowly entering the tip inside you, you gasped from the pain. "It hurts, my lord."

Jungkook stopped for a moment to cup your face, planting a kiss on your lips. "It will take time, but soon enough, you shall find pleasure in it, I promise."

You gazed at him, immediately believing his words, but wondering, "Does it hurt you as well?"

Jungkook laughed at that, slowly starting to thrust gently into you. "No, not at all. It is a very pleasant feeling for me."

His words came out as grunts, which you found incredibly attractive.

"Well, that is certainly unfair," you pouted, but gradually adjusted to the new feeling.

Jungkook agreed with you, saying, "I know," while chuckling.

As you began to get used to his thrusts, you leaned in even closer, urging him to fully enter you and thrust harder.

"You are simply the most beautiful woman I have laid eyes upon," he praised with hushed grunts, to which you cooed.

The fact that your families were outside the four walls of his office, peacefully sleeping, was something long forgotten by both of you, alongside the idea that he was the man who was supposed to be courting your sister.

You chose to forget about the one thing that was printed in your mind for the past months, even if only for a few minutes.

His thrusts began to become stronger, eliciting seductive sounds from both of you. His strategy to make less noise was kissing you almost the entire time.

His big hands roamed your entire body, and your legs wrapped around his hips; you were surprised at your ease—being with him felt not only beautiful but also effortless.

After a few final thrusts, his hips began to stutter, and a foreign sensation started to form in your stomach, causing you to look at him with a helpless expression, to which he answered, "I know, I know, my love; just allow it to happen."

You hesitantly let go, your head tilting back as you felt yourself reach a pinnacle—a feeling of pure bliss.

Jungkook could barely speak understandably, closing his eyes as he savored the last few thrusts before he reached his orgasm, pulling out and coming on a piece of cloth before he could release inside you.

"You did beautifully," he smiled and kissed your forehead lovingly.

You simply smiled back, the shame slowly returning as you put on your dress again.

He engulfed you in a gentle embrace before whispering into your ear, "Go rest now, my love; we shall see what we do tomorrow. Do not worry about anything; I will take care of it. That is a promise."

Somehow, you did not feel comforted by his words, but you reluctantly obliged, ignoring the slight pain in your legs as you walked through the halls of the mansion back to the room you had to temporarily share with your sister, who was already asleep.

You could not sleep that night, too consumed by wondering how and when you became that bad of a person.

___

The following day, you avoided Jungkook as much as you could. You felt ashamed, dirty; you felt like a bad person.

Your uncommonly quiet behavior did not go unnoticed by your mother and your sister; they kept pestering you about it.

But you did not know what to say to them.

Throughout the entire game of pall-mall, you acted out of the ordinary, not playing as well as you normally could.

Nadia and you were playing with Jungkook and four of his siblings, who were all much better players than the two of you.

"It seems you have forgotten the game, sister," Nadia giggled, watching you struggle with the mallet.

You kicked the ball hard in the wrong direction and almost tripped over; if it had not been for the strong hand that held your waist up.

"Be careful," the viscount’s deep voice rang in your ears.

Although you could stand on your own, he continued to hold onto your waist, his lips almost touching your ear. He forgot his surroundings, and so did you, as you locked eyes and shut out everything that was not each other.

It was a sight of pure chemistry, pure love; a blind man could see the feelings sparking between the two of you.

Visions of the prior night swirled in your mind as you leaned into his muscular body, completely in tune with him even in sheer silence.

Until Yoona interrupted you two with a cough, causing you to separate as quickly as possible from each other with more than embarrassed faces.

Jungkook’s siblings awkwardly laughed, and Nadia’s eyes, which you were avoiding, were boring into you penetratingly.

After the game, you went back to your rooms to prepare for lunch.

Strategically dodging your sister as much as possible, you pretended like nothing had happened between the viscount and you, while your insides brewed with fire.

But Nadia was the confrontational type.

"I see the way you look at each other, Yn," she admitted to you, hurt evident in her voice. "I have seen it for a long time, but I thought... you hated him. Had I known you did not, I would have ended the courtship."

"Nini..." you whispered. "I did not want to hurt you. I do not know how I could have been so selfish. You do not know how much I hate myself right now. I did not tell you because I was ashamed of myself... I did not want you to think that I purposely wanted to steal the man you love."

"I am not in love with him!" Nadia exclaimed in response, "I love you! You are my sister, Yn. If you would have told me from the beginning, I would not have been angry with you."

"I am so deeply sorry, Nadia," your face was a tearful mess at that point. "I did not know what to do; I thought... I was sure this would be just a passing infatuation, but... please forgive me, sister."

Your sister’s gentle hands found their way to your tear-stained cheeks. "I understand..."

"Please, I beg of you, do not let this ruin our sisterhood," you sounded pathetic, but you did not care.

You loved a man you were not supposed to love; you did things you were never supposed to do.

"You are my little sister, Yn," even in anger, her voice was soft and assuring. "You always will be... but do give me time to process this."

You nodded, immediately pulling her into a warm, strong embrace, whispering "I love you" to her.

___

You traveled back to London in complete silence, your sister still unsure how to talk to you and your mother, disappointed in the lack of proposals, but still happy with the time spent together.

For a couple of weeks, you did not hear anything from the viscount or his family. You tried to distract yourself with books and art, but nothing filled the emptiness in your heart.

You knew you gave the viscount the impression that you did not wish to speak with him, but you longed to hear or read his words.

One day, your mother entered your room with a pensive look. "Mama, what is it?"

"Yn... I have news, very important ones," she sat down at the edge of your spacious bed and took your hand in hers. "The viscount... he asked for your hand this morning. Your Baba approves, and Nadia does too, my love."

Your heart jumped outside your body for a moment, completely in shock.

You were happy, but you were not at the same time; perhaps the viscount only proposed because he was the gentleman he claimed to be and was merely fulfilling his duty?

"The viscount does not love me, Mama; I know it..." you sniveled, sadness washing over you. "He is simply fulfilling his duties because we..."

Your mother cut you off with an understanding look.

"Yn..." she spoke softly. "It is well; you do not need to tell me what happened between you and the viscount."

You sent a grateful gaze at her.

She always knew the right words to say when you were in distress.

"But, my dear," your mother expressed in an almost hesitant tone. "Whether the viscount wishes to marry you out of duty or out of love... I believe we should accept his proposal."

You were not angry at her idea because you wanted to marry him more than anything else in the world, but you feared he felt forced into proposing.

It was as if your heart had declared war on your mind.

Reluctantly, you nodded.

"I understand," you softly whispered. "Tell Baba to accept his proposal, but I wish to speak with the viscount beforehand."

Immediately after what you said, your mother ordered the maid to send an invitation for tea to the Jeon house.

___

The next day, Jungkook arrived with his mother by his side and an expensive bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"These are for you," he handed them to you, smiling shyly.

You silently thanked him, feeling the awkwardness brew; thankfully, your mother took the viscountess aside and left you and Jungkook enough room for a private conversation.

"I have not heard back about the proposal yet," Jungkook carefully started.

You nodded. "I have my Mama’s and Baba’s approval... Nadia’s too."

Jungkook watched you with attentive eyes, trying to gather what was holding you back from taking him as your husband.

"But I am afraid you are only proposing because of what happened at the country house," you confessed to him, looking down at your lap. "I do not want a marriage that is based solely on duties, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked frustrated, shaking his head.

"Listen to me, Yn," he grabbed your chin gently, locking his eyes with yours. "I love you. I have loved you from the moment we raced each other in that park. I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together, and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it, embrace it, or even allow it. Knowing you, you probably will not. But you must know it in your heart. You must feel it because I do. I love you."

You looked away for a second, tears of joy and longing filling your eyes.

While you gathered your words, he continued, "I know I am imperfect, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine my life without you, and that is why I wish to marry you."

At that point, your face was tear-stained all over, returning your gaze to him as you smiled delicately.

"I love you, Jungkook, and I will marry you," you declared. "But do not think there will come a day where you do not vex me."

He now wore a big smile on his face, leaning in to engulf your full lips in a gentle kiss.

"Is that a promise, Yn Ln?" he breathed against your lips.

___

hiiii, i’m back!! i hope u all get my vision of jungkook as the viscount bridgerton because i do. btw, i’m sorry i’m not rlly active on here but i am a college student okay, i am very busy i cannot help it😭😭 i try to write as much as possible but a girl’s gotta have priorities. anyway, i hope everybody who reads this has a nice day💋 (btw, i love ur feedback, ur comments, etc. so pls don’t be shy)

[minxmut-cafe]

FETISH

Pairing: STALKER!! Jimin x Reader

Word count: 16k

Warning: smut, sex, stalking, dark themes, voyeurism, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex, vaginal sex, penetration etc

Authors note: I honestly had so much fun writing this!! I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should do one about another member as well

Synopsis: "When Jimin wants something, he'll have it. One way or the other."

The bakery was quiet as Y/N worked the counter, the early afternoon sunlight spilling across the wooden tables, casting soft shadows on the cream-colored walls. The rich scent of butter and vanilla wafted through the air, mingling with the faint dusting of flour on the counter. A delicate hum of the oven's warmth was her only companion as she carefully arranged freshly baked pastries in the display case.

Y/N had always loved the rhythm of the bakery. The way the dough felt between her fingers, the way the heat from the oven would settle around her like a comforting embrace. It was simple, predictable—exactly the kind of life she wanted. No drama, no distractions. Just the steady flow of flour, sugar, and quiet.

But there was always something strange about this place. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was the way certain customers lingered a little too long, as if they didn’t just come for a croissant, but for something else—something she could never define. Or perhaps it was the way the silence would sometimes stretch, too long, too deep, as though the air itself was holding its breath.

A woman entered, her steps light, but her gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. Y/N smiled politely, forcing her attention back to the pastries as the woman selected a few items and moved to the counter.

"Just the usual?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet, practiced.

The woman nodded, placing a few crumpled bills on the counter before leaving without a word. Y/N watched her go, the door chiming softly behind her. The silence returned, but something felt different today. She couldn’t explain it.

Her eyes drifted to the window. Outside, the street was as bustling as usual. People hurrying by, oblivious to the quiet life she led. She was used to the hustle—she’d grown up in cities where the noise never stopped. But here, in this small corner of the world, there was a strange stillness that she could never shake.

As her gaze drifted past the street, something caught her attention. A figure, standing just outside the bakery window, hidden partially behind a lamppost. A man, his face obscured by a hood and sunglasses, his posture tense and watchful. She blinked, sure she was imagining things, but when she looked again, the figure was gone.

She shook her head. Just a trick of the light, she thought.

Y/N returned to her task, pushing aside the odd feeling that clung to her. She had no room for paranoia. She couldn’t afford it.

From the shadows, across the street, Jimin observed her, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his cap. He hadn’t come here to buy pastries, nor to admire the delicate art of baking. He’d come to watch her.

His lips twisted into a slight, cynical smile as he watched her move behind the counter, her fingers graceful as she shaped the dough. She was so... unaware. So focused on the small world she had created for herself. It was almost too easy.

Jimin’s world was not like hers. His was loud, filled with flashing lights, cameras, and the constant hum of voices singing his praises. He was Park Jimin, a star—a god, in the eyes of many. And yet, here he was, in the shadows, lingering in the corners of her life like some kind of invisible force.

He knew everything about her. Where she lived. What she liked to bake. The quiet way she carried herself. The subtle tension in her posture when she felt eyes on her, though she never acknowledged it.

It made him smile to think of how perfectly she fit into the life he had carefully crafted for her. A life where she would never escape him. Where he could watch, and wait, until she was ready to let him in.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed as Y/N glanced toward the window again. She didn’t see him, but he knew she felt something. She’d been sensing him for days now, and it would only be a matter of time before she figured it out.

But he wasn’t ready yet. Not yet. He wanted her to feel the fear first. To see him lurking in the background, like a shadow waiting to pounce. The fear would make her crave him, would make her realize that the only way out was to let him in completely.

He allowed himself a few more moments to study her. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Her movements were deliberate, efficient—exactly how he liked it. She wasn’t loud. She wasn’t demanding. She was content, trapped in the little world she’d made for herself.

But that wouldn’t last.

He’d make sure of it.

Y/N's attention snapped back to the counter as the bell above the door jingled again, the sudden intrusion breaking her train of thought. The figure she’d seen earlier? Gone. The street was just as it had always been.

She frowned, pushing the feeling of unease aside. It was nothing. Probably just someone waiting for the bus or some curious stranger with too much time on their hands.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t the first time, and she was certain it wouldn’t be the last.

Y/N sat at her small kitchen table, the soft glow of her laptop screen casting an ambient light across her face. It was late—almost midnight—but she didn’t mind. She’d gotten lost in her sculpting, her hands covered in clay, the world outside slipping away.

As usual, she was lonely at this hour. The bakery had closed, the last customer had long since left, and now there was only silence. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she sat back, debating whether she should check her messages. It had become a small ritual for her. In the last few weeks, someone had been reaching out to her through her online art account. They weren’t aggressive or overwhelming, but their words were kind, supportive.

Y/N had grown used to the occasional comment on her work—most of it generic, encouraging, but nothing that stuck. But this person, "ArtLover23," seemed different. They never just complimented her work—they asked thoughtful questions, made observations, and had a deep understanding of the techniques she used.

Her fingers clicked on the message notification, and a new message from ArtLover23 appeared.

ArtLover23: "I’ve been following your work for a while now. Your sculptures are so unique, they almost seem to have a life of their own. The way you bring such expression to stone… it’s incredible. Have you ever thought about making a piece that tells a story?"

Y/N smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through her. It wasn’t the first time they’d praised her work, but tonight the words felt different. She’d always struggled with loneliness, her quiet life filled with the hum of the bakery, her art, and the occasional student loan reminder. She wanted to believe that someone truly saw her—her work, her passion.

Y/N: "Thank you. That really means a lot. I’ve thought about telling a story with my art, but it’s harder than it sounds. Maybe something a bit abstract, like capturing the movement of water or the fragility of time."

There was a pause before a reply came through. The thoughtfulness behind the response always struck her. It made her feel... seen.

ArtLover23: "I’d love to see something like that. I think you’d capture the essence perfectly. It’s like you’ve already told a story with every piece."

Y/N typed back quickly, the connection sparking a little bit of excitement inside her.

Y/N: "I’m not sure if I’m that good, but I’m glad you think so."

The message she received back was immediate.

ArtLover23: "I know you are. I can tell by how much care you put into your work. You’re different from the rest."

She bit her lip, a small flush rising to her cheeks. There was something about the sincerity in his words that made her heart flutter—just a little. It wasn’t anything she could place. It was all so... harmless, right?

At least, that’s what she told herself.

---

Jimin leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on his desk as he stared at the screen. His lips curled into a small, calculating smile. It was easy, almost too easy. She was responding just as he’d hoped.

Her art had captivated him from the very first time he’d stumbled across her profile. He’d seen so many works in his life—so many faces, so many bodies—but her sculptures had a raw, delicate vulnerability to them that drew him in. The way she shaped the clay, the way she sculpted with such care—he could see it in the way she moved, the way she placed every finger against the surface. She poured her soul into it.

And now, he was the one she would pour her soul to.

He’d watched her from afar for weeks now. It was almost poetic, really. The quiet girl with the simple life. She had no idea who he was—not really. She had no idea that he could see everything. Every movement. Every glance. Every sigh.

And soon, she wouldn’t be able to turn away.

But for now, he was content to play the part of the faceless admirer. "ArtLover23" was the perfect guise—sweet, supportive, and above all, anonymous. He didn’t need to reveal himself just yet. Not until she had become comfortable with him. Until she was so deep in the web he’d woven that she would never dream of escaping.

---

Days passed, and Y/N found herself looking forward to the messages from ArtLover23 more than she cared to admit. He wasn’t just a fan—he was someone who understood. And for someone like Y/N, who often felt isolated in her little world, it was a relief. She looked forward to his thoughtful words as though they were a lifeline.

But as the weeks went on, small, strange details began to pop up. At first, they were easy to dismiss. A comment about her favorite painting—one she’d mentioned only once, years ago, to a friend. A mention of the small park near her apartment, where she often walked to clear her mind. The way he seemed to know exactly how she liked to spend her Saturdays—long afternoons at the pottery wheel, always listening to the same jazz playlist.

Y/N brushed it off. Coincidence, she told herself. He must just be observant.

But the unease crept in. A whisper in the back of her mind. Was it really coincidence? Or was it something else?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she typed a message to him.

Y/N: "You always seem to know so much about me. It’s a little… weird, don’t you think?"

The reply came quickly, as expected.

ArtLover23: "I told you, I’ve been watching your work for a long time. I think I understand you better than most people."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. It was such an innocent reply, yet something about it unsettled her. She wanted to ask more, to confront him, but she didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she replied with something that felt safer.

Y/N: "Well, I hope you’re not watching me in person too. That’s… that’s a little too much, don’t you think?"

The screen went still. No response. Her fingers tapped nervously on the table as she stared at the message. Then, just as she thought he wouldn’t reply, the response came through.

ArtLover23: "I would never. You’re too beautiful to scare, Y/N. You’re safe with me."

Her pulse quickened as she stared at the screen. There was something about the phrase “you’re safe with me” that struck her wrong, and yet, part of her wanted to believe it. It was a paradox. A tangled mess of fear and comfort.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she closed the laptop with a sharp snap, the weight of the message pressing on her chest like an anchor.

---

Meanwhile, Jimin sat back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips.

He knew he had her. The seed of doubt had been planted. She was already questioning herself, and soon, she’d be begging for answers. But the answers wouldn’t come easily. Not from him.

He leaned forward, fingers brushing over the camera he’d installed in her apartment. It was only a matter of time before he’d get the reward he’d been waiting for. He’d make sure she needed him, and when that moment came, he’d step out of the shadows and claim her completely.

The cool morning air filtered through the bakery's open windows, carrying with it the faint scent of fresh bread and the distant hum of the city. Y/N moved mechanically through her routine—mixing dough, shaping pastries, and setting up for the day. Her hands worked skillfully, but her mind wasn’t entirely present. Lately, there was a gnawing feeling at the back of her mind, a weight that followed her everywhere.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed, breaking her from her thoughts. She picked it up and unlocked the screen, her heart immediately skipping a beat. Another message from ArtLover23.

ArtLover23: "Had a thought about your latest piece. What if the stone wasn’t the medium, but the message? What if you could shape the heart of someone, not the material?"

It was thoughtful. It was weirdly insightful. But as Y/N scanned the message, something about it felt... off. The choice of words felt oddly personal, almost as if he knew her more intimately than he should.

With a sigh, Y/N put her phone down, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. She turned her attention to a new sculpture she was working on—a large, abstract piece that would require hours of careful attention. Yet, even as she worked, her mind kept drifting back to the messages, to the strange sensation that someone was watching her.

---

It started small, almost imperceptible. At first, it was the missing jewelry. A necklace she always wore, one with a pendant shaped like a crescent moon, had gone missing from her bedside table. Then it was the earrings she’d been sure she left in the bathroom. Little things. Tiny pieces of her life, slipping away, as if someone had taken them just to remind her they were close.

The strange events didn’t stop there. She began to notice things in her apartment—subtle, disturbing things. The windows she always double-checked at night were sometimes left ajar. Her bathroom mirror would fog up, even though the shower had never been turned on. And once, in the middle of the night, she swore she felt someone brushing her cheek, their breath hot against her skin. When she sat up, heart pounding, the room was empty.

She thought she was losing her mind. Paranoia was setting in, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed. At night, when she walked home from the bakery, her every step seemed too loud, her heart beating too quickly. She’d glance over her shoulder, but no one was there. Not visibly. But the feeling—it was there.

The final straw came when she received another message from ArtLover23. This one was different. It was a photo, just like before, but this time it was more explicit. The image was blurry at first, but it was clear enough—bare arms covered in tattoos, jewelry glinting in the sunlight, the faint outline of a chest.

No face. Just his tattoos. The same ones she had noticed before, but this time, they were more. The swirls of ink on his forearm. The intricate designs on his fingers. It was unmistakable—this wasn’t just any person. These tattoos were too specific, too unique. She had seen them before.

Her breath caught in her throat. Could it really be?

Y/N: “How do I know these aren’t just random pictures? Who are you, really?”

She didn’t send the message immediately. She sat with her finger poised over the keyboard, the weight of the decision settling on her chest. She wanted to ignore it, to pretend it was just another coincidence. But deep down, she couldn’t. The images felt too personal. Too real.

The response came quickly, far quicker than she’d expected.

ArtLover23: "You’ll know soon enough. I think you’ve already guessed, haven’t you?"

---

The unease became a constant companion. Every time she turned a corner, every time she glanced over her shoulder, it was there. The paranoia crept in, weaving its way into her every thought. It wasn’t just the online messages anymore. It was the feeling of eyes on her wherever she went.

One afternoon, she left the bakery for a quick break, needing to clear her head. The streets were bustling with people, but as she walked along the crowded sidewalk, a sharp chill ran down her spine. There was a figure—just a shadow, standing under a tree near the corner of the street. She couldn’t see their face, but the way they stood, so still, so aware, made her feel like they were waiting for her.

She turned the corner sharply, trying to shake the feeling off, but when she passed by a crowded train station later that day, it happened again. She was walking down the stairs, carrying her bag, when she felt a warm hand brush against her lower back. It wasn’t accidental—this was intentional.

Her heart pounded as she whipped around, but there was no one there. The crowd had shifted, and the person was gone, lost among the others.

A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t move.

And then, before she could catch her breath, it happened again. A firm hand pressed against her arm, pulling her against a figure in the crowd. She stumbled for a moment, her breath hitching, and tried to push away, but the hand held her firmly in place.

"Careful," a voice whispered against her ear, muffled by the sounds of the city. She could barely make it out, but the voice was deep, smooth. Familiar. It felt like it was laced with a dangerous amusement.

"Who are you?" she managed to ask, trying to pull away, but the grip was too tight.

He didn’t answer her immediately. Instead, the stranger chuckled softly, his breath warm against her neck.

"You’ll find out soon enough, Y/N. But you already know, don’t you?" His voice was laced with something unsettling, something dark. "I’ve been waiting for this moment."

Before she could ask anything else, he slipped away into the crowd, leaving her trembling on the edge of the busy street. She looked around, but there was no sign of him. It was as if he had melted into the crowd, disappeared completely.

She didn’t know what was worse—the fact that someone had touched her so intimately without her consent, or the fact that she felt a strange thrill in it. Her pulse raced as she fought the contradictory emotions inside her—fear, curiosity, and something darker.

---

Back in his apartment, Jimin sat in the dim light of his room, the shadows of the city stretching across the floor. He had watched her—watched her in the bakery, watched her when she was on the streets, watched her when she was completely unaware.

His fingers tapped on his phone screen as he sent her the latest message. He watched her reaction with a quiet, satisfied smile. The game was close to over, but he wasn’t ready to reveal everything just yet.

He would keep her on edge, keep her craving him, until she couldn’t imagine a life without him.

Y/N could feel it in the air. The tension had been building for days, creeping into her life like a storm that she couldn’t outrun. She could no longer dismiss the feeling that she was being watched—couldn’t ignore the sense that someone was always nearby. It wasn’t just the missing jewelry, the opened windows, or the hand on her back in the crowd. No, it was everything. The gifts that appeared in her apartment when she wasn’t looking, the cryptic texts, the unnerving photos—each piece of the puzzle had been carefully placed, one after the other, until they formed an unmistakable pattern. A pattern she had refused to see until now.

But tonight, everything would change. Tonight, she would find out who had been behind it all.

She walked through the dimly lit streets, her steps quick but unsteady. The bakery was closed for the night, the warm, comforting scent of bread replaced by the sharp, metallic taste of fear in her throat. The closer she got to her apartment, the more her unease grew. She could feel it. Someone was there.

And then, as she approached her building, the familiar pressure of being watched pressed into her chest. She heard the rustle of a coat, the faint shuffle of footsteps behind her. Her breath quickened, her heart pounding in her chest, but she refused to turn around.

She had to face this.

When she reached the door to her apartment, she fumbled with the keys, desperately trying to get inside, but her hands were shaking too much. The sound of footsteps grew louder, closer, and just as she was about to step inside, a hand—warm and firm—pressed against the door, halting her.

“Not yet,” the voice whispered, smooth and dangerously familiar.

Y/N’s heart skipped. Her stomach twisted. It was him.

Before she could react, the door was pushed open, and she was pulled inside, her back slamming against the cool, hard wall. The lights were off, but she didn’t need them to recognize the figure standing before her. She had seen him before—through the photos, in the shadows, in her every waking thought.

Park Jimin.

Her pulse raced as her mind struggled to process the sight before her. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

Jimin’s eyes glinted in the darkness, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re surprised,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing. “You really didn’t know?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as the realization crashed over her like a wave. “You… you’re him?” she choked out, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You're the one—you have been stalking me? All this time?”

Jimin didn’t answer at first. He simply stepped closer, his presence looming over her like a dark cloud. His eyes never left hers, watching, studying her with a calm intensity that made her feel exposed—vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt before.

“Did you think it was just some random stranger?” His voice was almost playful now, as if he were enjoying her confusion. “Did you think this was all just a coincidence?”

Y/N’s mind raced, her thoughts a blur. She wanted to push him away, to scream at him for everything he had done, but her body betrayed her. She stood frozen, unable to move. Her hands were clenched into fists, but they hung limply at her sides.

Jimin reached out, gently cupping her face in his hand. She flinched at the touch, but he didn’t pull away. “You were never just a random person to me,” he continued, his voice dripping with something dark, something possessive. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. I had to have you.”

The words hung in the air between them, suffocating. She recoiled from his touch, her pulse racing as the anger surged within her. “Why? Why me?” Her voice cracked with disbelief, but there was an edge of something else beneath it—fear. “Why would you do this to me? All of it… the stalking, the messages, the pictures—am I just some game to you? An object for your twisted obsession?”

Jimin didn’t flinch. He only smiled, the expression almost affectionate. “No. You’re not a game.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw, his touch light but insistent. “You’re everything to me. You always have been.”

“Everything?” Her voice rose, her fury igniting. “Everything?!” Her hands clenched, her chest tightening with rage. “You’ve been stalking me, invading my life, and you’re obsessed with me? How the hell could I be ‘everything’ to you?”

Jimin’s smile never wavered. He took a step back, his gaze never leaving hers, and for a moment, he was silent. The weight of his words pressed down on her as the room seemed to shrink. The quiet tension between them was palpable.

“You don’t understand, do you?” Jimin’s voice was softer now, almost pensive, as though he were explaining something delicate, something necessary. “It’s not about control. Not about owning you. It’s about needing you. You don’t belong to me, Y/N.” He took another step forward, his eyes narrowing. “But I can’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Her breath came in quick bursts, and she wanted to push him away, to run. But part of her—something dark and dangerous inside—wanted to hear more. It sickened her, but the curiosity was there, burrowing under her skin.

“No, you’re wrong,” she spat, her voice trembling with both fury and confusion. “You can’t just take someone, not like this. It’s sick! You’re sick! How could you think I would ever want this—this madness?”

Jimin stepped closer again, and this time she didn’t pull away. He raised his hand and gently brushed his thumb against her lower lip, his eyes searching her face as if he were studying her very soul.

“You want it, Y/N,” he said softly, his words almost a whisper, like a confession. “You want this. You feel it too. That’s why you keep coming back. That’s why you didn’t run.”

Y/N froze, the words ringing in her ears. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her heart hammered in her chest. “No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Jimin replied, his voice sharp now, confident. “You do want me. You wanted this from the moment you noticed me, didn’t you?”

Her eyes filled with anger, but there was something else there too—a glimmer of truth, something she didn’t want to face. She felt the pull, the sick fascination, the twisted part of her that couldn’t deny the thrill of it all. Of him.

She stepped back, trying to gather her thoughts. “I hate you,” she spat, the words laced with venom. “I hate everything about this.”

Jimin simply smiled, stepping even closer now, until his body was almost pressed against hers. “You’ll learn to love me. You’ll need me. And when you do, you’ll realize how foolish you were to resist.” His lips brushed against her ear, and he whispered, “You’ve always been mine, Y/N. I just needed you to see it.”

---

The room felt heavy, suffocating with their emotions. Y/N’s heart raced, her body trembling with a combination of rage and something darker, something that disgusted her even more because she couldn’t deny it—there was a part of her that wanted him. The power he had over her, the way he twisted her thoughts, it scared her, but it also made her feel alive in a way she didn’t want to admit.

As Jimin watched her, his expression unreadable, she realized something. She could hate him all she wanted. She could push him away, scream at him, but it didn’t matter.

He was already inside her. The damage was done.

The tension between Y/N and Jimin had reached a fever pitch, each moment a precarious balance of power, manipulation, and twisted desire.

Every move she made, every breath she took, seemed to be under his watchful eye, but the strangest part was how he always knew how to stay one step ahead. It was like a game-one where she was both the prey and the willing player, her instincts torn between fighting back and giving in.

He had warned her. She had ignored him.

The night she went out with another customer- an innocent enough date, or so she thought-had been the line she crossed. His texts were brief, cold, threatening: "I warned you about consequences, Y/N. Don't make me teach you a lesson."

She should've listened. She knew better. But her anger, her stubbornness, her need to prove something-it made her reckless. The man on the date had been charming, attentive, everything Jimin wasn't. And for a moment, as she laughed at his jokes and enjoyed the normalcy of it all, she had almost forgotten about Jimin and his suffocating grip on her life. But the moment she stepped through the door to her apartment, that illusion shattered.

Jimin was waiting for her, his posture relaxed but his eyes dark, calculating. The air was thick with anticipation, the quiet hum of power pulsing between them like electricity.

"You thought I wouldn't notice?" His voice was deceptively calm, but there was an underlying edge that made her spine stiffen. "You really thought you could go out with another man and not face the consequences?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words got stuck in her throat. She had pushed him too far. She knew it, and deep down, she regretted it.

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words got stuck in her throat. She had pushed him too far. She knew it, and deep down, she regretted it.

His eyes narrowed, and without another word, he motioned for her to come closer. "Get over here," he demanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Her feet moved instinctively, but her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and something darker-something dangerous. She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream at him, to shove him away and tell him she didn't need this, but deep down, she understood that this was his world. She was just a pawn in it, and he held all the power.

As she stood before him, her defiance rising, Jimin didn't give her a chance to argue. With one swift movement, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down across his lap. She gasped, her body tense with shock, her hands bracing against his leg to steady herself.

"I warned you," he murmured, his fingers gently caressing the curve of her hips before his hand came down hard across her bottom.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, a mix of pain and shock rippling through her. She tried to squirm away, but Jimin's grip was unyielding, his fingers digging into her sides. Another smack landed on her other cheek, and she gasped again, the sting sending a shiver down her spine.

"Still think this is a game, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and filled with an eerie calmness that made her blood run cold.

She glared at him, her face flushed with a mix of humiliation and rage. "You're sick," she spat, but the words felt weak, impotent.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked, the amusement in his eyes cutting through her like a blade. "You wanted this, didn't you? You pushed me, and now you're here. Don't pretend you're not enjoying it." Another slap, and she winced, the stinging sensation making her flinch.

Tears welled in her eyes, her chest heaving with the rawness of the moment. Her body trembled from the sting of his strikes, but it wasn't just physical. It was the betrayal-the realization that she had given him control once again.

She should have fought harder. She should have run.

But here she was, in his lap, tears blurring her vision, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The anger, the humiliation, the desire-it all tangled together in a twisted knot that she couldn't undo.

Jimin's hand gently stroked her back, as if he were soothing her, and it only made her more furious. "Shh, it's okay. You know I'm doing this for your own good, right? You need to be taught a lesson. You need to learn that you can't just go around doing whatever you want."

The punishment had been excruciating. The sting still burned in her bottom, a reminder of her defiance and his dominance. She sat on the edge of her bed, her chest heaving with the aftermath of Jimin's touch and the power he had over her. But instead of the quiet moment of reflection she’d expected, the anger inside her surged, bubbling up like a volcano ready to explode.

"You're sick!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "You think you're some god, some... some king who can control every single part of me?" Her hands trembled with rage as she pulled at her hair, pacing around the room. "I hate you! I hate how you watch me, how you manipulate me, how you—"

Her breath hitched, and the words came out faster, more venomous. "You're nothing but a coward, hiding behind your games, your little tricks. I don’t need you!"

She turned to face the bed, her eyes blazing with fury. "You don’t get to decide who I am! You don’t get to control me, Jimin!"

But even as she screamed, even as her mind raced with all the things she wanted to hurl at him, she knew he wasn’t there. He was gone.

Or was he?

Her hands went to her phone—her constant tether to him, to the man who’d been watching her every move—and unlocked it. She opened the messages he’d sent her, rereading the cold, calculated words. The threat in each message. The subtle pull he had on her. And yet, there was nothing. No message. No sign of him.

Nothing.

A sick, twisted part of her—part of her that she had come to hate—waited for the ping of a new message, a new sign that he was still watching. That he was still there. But the silence grew more oppressive.

Was he really gone?

Y/N stood up abruptly, her blood boiling. She couldn’t stand it. The silence. The absence.

Her fists clenched at her sides as she stormed out of her room, her steps echoing through the apartment. She went straight to the drawers, rifling through them with a sense of desperation. Where were they? The cameras. The ones she had always known were there, hidden, watching.

She tore apart the living room, throwing cushions, upturning furniture, desperate to find something—anything—that would confirm he was still here, still controlling her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ripped through the place. The more she searched, the angrier she became. Each empty space, each hidden corner felt like a taunt.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she found a small, hidden device in the corner of the living room, partially obscured behind a bookshelf. She grabbed it, holding it up like a weapon.

She was panting now, her body trembling from the rage that had overtaken her.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she hissed, glaring at the camera. “You think you’re so damn obsessed with me. You think I can’t see through your games.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, raw from the emotions tearing her apart.

Her fingers were shaking as she typed out a message to him, but her anger was so palpable that her hands could barely hold the phone steady. "If you’re so obsessed with me, Jimin, then come out. Face me. Take me. I’m done with this game, I’m done with hiding. If you’re watching me, come and take me, because I can’t do this anymore."

She threw the phone on the couch with a frustrated scream, her breath heavy as she stared at the empty space around her. The silence felt deafening now, unbearable.

Where was he?

The room felt colder, the absence of his presence almost suffocating. But as she turned around, a shadow in the corner of the room caught her eye. Slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward, her heart racing in her chest.

And there he was.

Jimin, standing in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. He was silent, his gaze steady and calm, almost as if he had been waiting for this moment.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else—something darker—raging inside her. Her fists clenched at her sides.

“You were watching,” she spat, her voice trembling with the force of her fury. “You were always watching.”

Jimin’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. “I’m always watching, Y/N. And you know that.”

He took a slow step forward, his presence suddenly overwhelming as he closed the distance between them. He was calm, collected, but the way he looked at her made her feel like prey.

“You didn’t have to search, you know,” he said quietly. “You already knew I was here. You wanted me to come.”

Her heart raced faster. The realization hit her harder than she expected—he knew. He always knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

“You’re sick,” she whispered, but this time, her voice was softer. There was no fight left in her.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Am I? Or are you just as twisted as I am?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The silence between them now held all the weight of the truth.

The silence in the apartment had thickened after Y/N's words, her confession hanging heavily between them. But Jimin wasn't fazed by her fury. He was calm, too calm, and that only made Y/N's pulse race faster, her breath hitching in her throat.

She hadn't expected him to stand there. Hadn't expected him to just... wait. It infuriated her even more.

"You think you can just walk in here, and everything will be fine?" Her voice was barely more than a growl, but the edge in it was clear.

"You think after all of this, I'll just let you have me?"

Jimin stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as if he enjoyed watching her struggle against the growing pull between them. His eyes never left hers, the heat in them unmistakable.

"You already know the answer to that," he said quietly, his voice low, as though they were the only two people in the world. "You've always known it."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. The distance between them was so small now, yet it felt like an eternity. She wanted to push him away, to scream at him, but every inch of her body craved him. The tension between them was unbearable, a raw need that neither of them could deny.

Jimin reached for her, his fingers grazing the side of her face, soft yet possessive. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she swallowed, trying to control the emotions threatening to overtake her.

"Why do you think you're here?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear as his hand slid down her neck. "Because you wanted this. You wanted me to make you mine."

Y/N's body responded against her will, her skin flushing, her breath quickening. She hated how much she wanted this, how much she needed him. But she couldn't stop herself. She wanted to feel everything-wanted him to prove that he could make her forget all the anger, all the hate.

Jimin's hands moved lower, pushing her clothes aside with practiced ease. There was no hesitation, no mercy in his touch. He wasn't going to let her run. Not now. Not ever again.

With a swift motion, he pressed her against the wall, his lips crashing into hers, silencing the words, the anger, everything between them. His kiss was hard, demanding, a physical manifestation of everything he'd built up in the silence, in the stalking, in the control. His mouth claimed hers as though he had every right to do so, and the fierceness in his kiss made her knees weak.

Y/N struggled to breathe as his hands roamed her body, touching her in ways that made her tremble. She tried to push him back, to pull away, but he wasn't having it. He pinned her there, his body pressing against hers with a possessiveness that left no room for escape.

"You're mine," Jimin whispered against her lips, his breath hot and heavy. "You always have been."

His hands slid down her body, caressing her skin with an almost reverent touch, as if he were marking her. His lips followed the trail of his hands, kissing down her neck, nipping at her sensitive skin. The more he touched her, the more she felt herself slipping-slipping into something darker, something she wasn't sure she could control anymore.

"Jimin-" Y/N gasped, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire.

"You don't get to say my name like that," he growled, his tone filled with a possessiveness that made her stomach tighten. "Not unless you're ready to be mine. Completely."

She wanted to say no. Wanted to scream, push him away, and tell him she didn't need him. But when his lips found her collarbone, when he kissed the skin beneath her ear, she melted. She couldn't fight it. Not anymore.

He pulled her closer, lifting her easily as if she were nothing, and carried her to the bed. Every movement, every touch, was calculated. Every inch of her skin he touched, every time he kissed her, it was a claim. A claim on her body, on her heart, on her soul.

Y/N's hands trembled as they touched his chest, tracing the tattoos she had seen in those secret, faceless photos. His body, the ink, the jewelry- all of it. It was him. And in that moment, she realized she could never escape him. Not now. Not when he made her feel like this.

She reached for him, desperate, and pulled him down on top of her, her legs wrapping around his waist. Jimin groaned against her mouth, the sound of it sending shivers down her spine.

"You're mine now," he whispered again, more urgently this time, as if reminding her of something they both knew deep down.

Her pulse raced as he lowered his lips to her neck, kissing the soft skin there, marking it with the same possessiveness that filled his voice. His hands were everywhere, claiming her as his, branding her with every touch. She could feel the heat between them, the intensity of the moment, and there was no going back now.

As Jimin moved over her, taking control in a way that both terrified and thrilled her, she finally let go. All the anger, all the frustration-everything melted away. There was only him, only this moment, and she couldn't deny that it was everything she had been craving.

In his arms, in his touch, she finally understood.

She had always been his

And now, he was making sure she never forgot it.

He pinned her hands above her head as his free hand reached behind her back to unbuckled her bra. He leaned down to kiss her breasts and suck on her nipples “Fuck you taste so fuckin' good baby, just how I imagined” she whimpered as he bit down on it and moved lower and lower, palming her through her shorts.

He slowly pulled her shorts down with his teeth while making eye contact with her, she almost let out a moan at how hot he looked. He pressed his mouth on her clothed cunt, pressing his tongue on her before pulling it down as well.

She was beautiful, and so fuckin' wet— he couldn't help but dip one of his finger inside her, drawing out a whimper from her, “you've been fantasizing about these fingers for a while, haven't you baby? I've seen you use that weak little vibrator on yourself” she blushed, throwing a hand on her eyes to try to shield herself from the embarrassment.

He pinched her clit, receiving a surprised yelp from her— god she would be the death of him the way her pretty little eyes threw him a glare almost made him cum right there in his pants, he doubled down spanking her clit, it hurt so good it was enough to make her moan out his name and make her eyes roll back.

He smirked “I want your eyes on me princess, you've already been so bad…don't make me punish you twice. Have I made myself clear, doll?” She bit her lip and rested her hand on her side.

He spanks her thighs, “use your mouth pretty” he smirked as she let out a firm yes.

He bent down to flatten his tongue against her— fuck she tasted so fucking sweet, he moaned against her as he pushed two digits inside her sopping cunt, she gasped “hnngh hurts jimin…” he scoffed “if you're hurting with just my fingers how do you plan on taking my cock doll?”

She let out a pathetic whimper and he sighed “don't worry, I'll take good care of my princess. My pretty girls never been fucked, has she?” She shook her head, earning another harsh slap on her clit, “no..” she replied, her lips forming into a pout. Jimin snickered and picked up his pace, bending down to suck and lick on her clit.

He kissed her folds and clit, moaning and praising her. Her head was spinning from the overwhelming pleasure Jimin was providing. It felt so good.

He continued his ministration until she came all over his tongue, letting out an almost guttural moan of his name.

Jimin hummed and sneaked his hands underneath her, pinching her ass cheeks before flipping her over. She heard a muffle sound of belt unbuckling and his pants falling.

Jimin stroked his cock slowly, rubbing it between her folds making her gasp. She peeked over her shoulder trying to get a glimpse of him and the sight alone was enough to make her cum. He looked so fuckin' delicious— his tip a pretty berry coloured and he was sooo deliciously thick her mouth watered at the thought of having him inside her. Jimin noticed her expression and chuckled, rubbing it against her clit, drawing out a small whimper “pretty girl likes my cock hmm? Don't worry baby, a few more minutes and I'll have you bouncing dumb on it”, he pats her head, giggling when he sees her blush.

Jimin grabbed a handful of her ass, fondling it. He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy “your pretty little ass is still so red from the punishment earlier princess. Tell me, did you secretly enjoy it, doll?” she blushed, hiding her face and he kissed his teeth and reached down, sliding his hand up her head and grabbing her hair before pulling her up against him. She let out a startled moan as he pulled her flush against him “ I asked a question princess. Did you secretly enjoy your punishment earlier?” He asked lining himself against her “y-yes…I-I did Jimin” he slowly pushed him tip in, making her eyes roll back as she shook her head “n-no please not…not like this…I wanna..h-hold you please” she begged looking back at him and he hummed kissing her neck and pulled out.

He knew this was her first time and as much as he wanted to pile drive her into oblivion through the back, he wanted to make sure she's comfortable and felt good for the first round. He laid her down comfortably and got on top of her, “is this better my pretty girl?” she nods, and pulls him closer, circling her arms around his neck pulling him close and hiding her face in his shoulder. Jimin kissed her neck before reaching down to rub himself against her, “look at that princess…fuck your cunts so fucking tiny…how's my cock supposed to fucking fit in hmm?” He mused, chuckling to himself.

“It'll fit” she moaned, her chest heaving.

“Is that right princess?” He bit her cheeks, kissing her to distract her from the burn as he pushed himself inside her in one swift motion. She moaned, whining into his mouth. He sucked on her tongue, making her eyes roll back as she rubbed her clit.

He kissed her, squeezing her nipples teasingly. He gave her some time to adjust before pulling out. He was hitting each and every spot inside her. So fucking thick— her eyes rolled back as she clutched on jimins back, scratching it in process as he slowly started thrusting in and out of her.

He slowly picked up his pace. Her eyes rolled back as he started rubbing against her G- spot. Her legs clamped shut around his waist, pulling him unbelievably close to her. “God—fuck princess, don't wrap your legs around me like that if you don't want me to fuck a baby inside your sweet cunt” he moaned, his eyes wandering over her face as it contorts in pleasure.

She looked so pretty as he bounced her dumb on his cock, the only thing leaving her mouth was the moans of his name. She said it like a prayer. He loved it. He had been dreaming about it for the longest time. He kissed her, flicking her tongue with his own as he pounded against her sweet spot.

He felt her throbbing around him, his own cock twitched at the sensation. She clenched around him so tight his vision went blank.

She felt a sharp spank land on her ass “fuck— princess, shit— loosen up! cmon doll, or I'll end up blowing my load inside your pretty little cunt”

Jimin moaned “fuck— that's right baby, cream around my cock, fuckfuckfuck you're clenching so hard—ahn, fuck that's right milk my cock for all it's worth, attagirl” as he fucked her through her orgasm.

“Inside, please…do it …I'm so..so close jimin—fuck, you're…you're so thick” she moaned arching her back against him.

Jimin groaned as he continued thrusting inside her, his hips snapping against her harder and faster. He pulled her In an open mouthed kiss, sucking on her tongue, flicking it and reaching his hand down, rubbing her clit.

Her legs started shaking and her vision went black, as she clenched around him and came all over him.

He pinned her hands above her and started chasing his own high as he came deep inside her. The sensation of him cumming inside her was so fucking addicted, she found herself beggin for more. Wanting him to cum inside her over and over again as he fucked her dumb on her mattress all night long.

[jkvjimin]

PRETTY DOLL 🤍

[hoseoksluna]

THE END OF THE WORLD | pjm

pairing: best friend!jimin x f. reader

genre: fluff

rating: 13+

summary: when you thought your period cramps would bring in the end of the world, you didn't realize your feelings for jimin would get reciprocated in the middle of it all.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: reader is on her period; brief mention of period blood, jimin has a cute (non-sexual) fixation on reader's feet, kissing, anxiety, the problematics of heavy thoughts, insecurities and feeling not worthy of good things.

luna's note: this little thing literally came out of nowhere. i started writing this at work on friday when i had severe cramps and i felt soft enough to write a little fluff. where my jimin girls at? i've been heavily fixated on jimin lately, seeking comfort in him, buying pcs from muse photoshoot bc it's my favorite. the jimin i wrote about is an older, buffier jimin with blond hair bc that's my weakness. i hope you like this figment of my imagination and that it makes you as soft as it made me. i love you all, sending kisses mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

@ririkookiemonster, @perfectiondazesworld, @kookienooki, @rrosiitas, @kooloveys

@junecat18 @deepops79 @notsevenwithyou @futuristicenemychaos @psychicjellyfishalpaca

@mar-lo-pap, @perfectiondazesworld @blackswanpt2 @rpwprpwprpwprw

The pain that coursed across your lower tummy felt like the world ending, and your boy friend carried more beauty than a mere mortal could ever achieve. Too bad there was that doomful space between those two words that speak of his role in your life, even though his current position suggests such closeness that those letters could easily melt together. 

Jimin rests the side plane of his face on the middle of your thigh. You repose on the left side of your bed, seemingly bloodless while you exude liters upon liters of the carmine liquid, which makes you wonder how you’re still alive. The wings of your ovaries constrict and constrict, right under his face, reflecting the membrane of his own pair that you’ve watched grow into those of an archangel throughout the trajectory of your life with him. You try to ignore the pain, even as your features twist in helplessness, and instead imagine the colors that could swift through those feathers. 

Pistachio green. Brown that fades into a soft pink. Maybe a little subdued yellow. 

You’ve always thought he was an angel by the way his presence in your day simply made it better. More joyful, more loving, more gentle. But the more you blossomed into adulthood with him, and your frontal lobe developed as well as your unconditional feelings for him, the more you comprehended he was your angel. And not just an ordinary one. 

He was your archangel. 

He would protect you from people that had no space in your life, no luck or love to pepper your nose with. On the packed public transport, he would cover your knees with his hand so no male strangers would touch you with the back of their legs. If a guy came to make a mess out of your life, he would deal with him in a way that would force him to apologize to you and never bother you again. If someone, no matter their gender, caused you sadness in any small or big form, he made sure they regretted it. And, more often than not, your archangel bought you boba. 

You must’ve tried all the flavors from your favorite bubble bar by now. And by all means, crème brûlée was your favorite—only because when you drank it for the first time, you realized that you irrevocably loved the boy with the faux blond hair, pillowy lips, kind heart and confidential tattoos. And when this dawned upon you, it seemed as though Jimin knew—because he blushed and didn’t say anything for a while. The unspoken information, kept safely in the cores of yours and his being, not born into this world. That’s why it’s your favorite. 

It’s the one that is set on your nightstand right now, unopened, with the straw still captive in the translucent foil. It took only one response to his daily how are you text for him to drive to your usual bubble bar on his way to you, and upon seeing the beige peek through the cup, along with the brown sugar syrup, it’s a miracle your knees didn’t give out on you. The fact he chose this drink over all the other ones you love fed your heart the delusions that maybe, just maybe he loved you back. 

That he wasn’t just a kind boy, whose love language was physical touch, and that’s why he’s laying in your lap. 

Maybe, if you did any good in your life, Jimin gazes at you from this lower position while fondling your aching tummy because he feels something deeper than a sympathy for you. 

The pain almost forces you to ask that life-altering question for clarification. Almost. It is on the tip of your tongue, perfect and fluid, breathless and fearless, but you hold it back because Jimin extends one finger and traces patterns on your bloated belly. 

And not just any patterns.

He’s drawing wings. 

His own flutter in the air. Green, brown, pink and yellow. As if he’s giving life to them by drawing a miniature version of them on your clothed skin. And as they flutter, they open and close, open and close. They lift him, leave him hovering above you for a mere second while his hands find a good spot on the mattress outside of the lines of your body, until he settles. His body plops down onto yours, bringing in such heat that you softly gasp and close your eyes at the impact, and you don’t know what to feel, what your hands are doing as they lift, too, and interlock behind his neck, and you don’t know what this is. 

Is this what friends normally do? 

You wouldn’t know. Jimin has been your only boy friend since… forever. And you can’t think properly because the heat penetrating you mingles with your cramps and his body weight messes with your brain, emptying it out until there’s only two sentences that linger. 

One: I love you, Jimin.

Two: We are connected beyond the laws of this world, through strings which are transparent. 

The second sentence only expands, in metaphorical terms, on the first one.

Jimin’s cheek is reddened by his former position in your lap. A circle of soft and wrinkly skin that must be as warm as the rest of him. His blond hair is a bird’s nest, which an entire league of lesser angels must take care of. And his mellow smile gives off such snug light that it reaches his eyes, dissolving there like sparks of a dying fire. 

You love him, and you fail to understand how it has come to be—him laying on top of you. Did you smiling at the cashier in the grocery stop while you paid for your pads earlier get you this blessing? If the world ended in the next minute, you’d be happy, you wouldn’t mind at all because this, this is everything to you. You’re afraid to speak, to break the spell of the moment, and you feign an absolute calmness, not daring to move an inch, despite the fact your internal organs are colored by fireworks that burst and burst as soon as his breathing syncs with yours. 

It’s not that your lungs copied his—his lungs copied yours, and there’s something terribly intimate about that. 

You can’t halt the scarlet tinge rushing through your cheeks, one of the flower-shaped fireworks flung through you. Jimin’s tender eyes fall to them, one by one, and his mouth cracks the tiniest of smiles, as if he, too, held himself back from ruining the moment. The room is saturated with rosiness that feels light, and you wonder how long has it actually been since you’ve put on these rose-colored glasses. 

How strange it is in reality, to love someone without them knowing. 

You’re a slave to things hitting you all of a sudden. You tend to live in a dreamy headspace, walking through life seeking the arts, the poems, the book lines that cut through your heart without any ounce of pity, and when reality infiltrates that fog like the winter’s sun, the rosiness loses its hue. 

Just like right now. 

What are you doing? What is Jimin doing and why is he doing it? It’s not right, it shouldn’t be like this, you haven’t done anything to deserve this. You don’t think smiling at a cashier would make you deserve—

“Is the pain any better?” 

His tender voice percolates into your anxious thoughts like a pyrotechnic with colors inside its throat, the very fireworks inside you, and they meet in the middle of your sternum, connecting, clicking, never to be torn apart—at least not for a while. Their bond erases your fear, making space for a clean frame of mind, and your brain cells focus on your aching lower belly. The pain has lessened due to the heat radiating off Jimin’s body and seeping into yours, you let out a long breath that caresses the shorter pieces of his hair, and your muscles loosen, your senses returning to you. 

You can smell Jimin.

Apple shampoo, the sweet vanilla of his fragrance, laced most delectably with the manly spice of his aftershave. And the savoriness of his natural scent. 

A moment of physical serenity. 

Your fingers twitch behind the nape of his neck, pining to play with his hair. You take a lungful of the whole essence of him, your pining dilating as your instinct begs you to fist the downy material of his cashmere sweater, drag him up and bury your nose in his neck. 

You do none of those things, however. Your fingers keep on twitching, and so you close them into a fist, holding your thumb for comfort, willing the blackness of your thoughts away. 

You nod your head and suddenly, your body does as it pleases. For a reason unknown to you, your free finger taps the center of the back of his neck, and you’re not sure if it was that brief touch that cast such light in his eyes, or whether it was the fact that he’s helping your cramps. 

You wish you’d stop thinking at all. It’s exhausting, fighting and analyzing all the fucking time. You wish you could just live in the moment, experiencing the beauty of your senses quietly without any intrusions of your thoughts, and as Jimin sizes you up with all that light glossing over his irises, it seems as though he knows the ins and outs of your daily struggles. 

You don’t know that he’s been paying attention all this time. A very close one, at that. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, throwing you off balance enough that your eyes widen and the blood in your veins turns cold. The pain in your belly stops at once as all your concentration is fixed on the call-out. “You haven’t touched your favorite boba. You haven’t said a full sentence since I came over and you keep frowning. What’s wrong?” 

His chest lifts and he reaches over to your bedside table, grabbing the drink he spoke of and placing it on your swollen tummy. His teeth rip off the plastic foil over the straw and he plunges it with utmost expertise inside the large cup, setting off the fireworks inside you all over again as if it was New Year’s eve. And maybe it is—maybe Jimin has fast-forwarded the time and given you a chance to make a change in your life, a new year resolution that could make everything better. 

If only you weren’t such a coward—a wolf of bravery in a foolish, timid sheep’s skin. 

But the tears that rush through when Jimin tilts the cup and the straw to your lips while holding it steady, they have the power to clean you off the old and the ostensibly innate structure of your insecurities. And when they roll down your cheeks and Jimin’s mouth parts in abrupt shock molded by compassion, you sense that their power is bigger than you. 

Your lips wrap around the thick straw and suck in the saccharine, creamy delight. It suffuses all of your senses, and once the black, squishy tapioca plops into your mouth, a soothing tendril of joy overwhelms every inch of your being. To such an extent that you begin to bawl. 

And splutter out the contents of your mind. 

“My mind is always running and I’m so tired of it, like I can’t catch up anymore,” you sob, chewing the boba while your tears freely fall. Jimin continues holding the cup and when your hand wraps around his, the other one encloses around your wrist—the gesture propelling you to spill out more. “I’m always analyzing, always thinking if I’m worthy of this and that. If it’s okay, if I should stop, if I should do something or not, if I—” You sigh, not able to find the words to describe what you’re experiencing. Frustration latches onto you, inciting your anger that begins to ooze out of your every pore. “When you were laying down on my lap, all I could think about was—” You stop yourself, slapping your mouth, realizing that you nearly said too much. 

But Jimin knits his brows, and the hand that held your wrist tugs away the limb that halted the flow of your words. “Keep going.” 

Your heart pounds, violently. The moment feels too severe, and yet your mind is oddly… silent. As if the anger that washed over you scrubbed it completely clean—clean enough that you perceive this to be an interruption rather than a saving. Your mouth wants to continue to speak and your heart… it pushes the words up your throat. 

You feel like puking your guts up, although there’s a strange determination prickling the ends of your fingertips. 

You swallow and in the middle of the interlude, Jimin sits up. Sets your boba on the hard surface of your closed laptop nearby. The sudden distance pulls you, as if by a string, to a sitting position as well, and both of you simultaneously criss-cross your legs while your heart threatens to leap out of your esophagus. You’re stomaching the feeling that you’ve done something wrong, which caused him to exit the closeness you were in, and you tense up and nearly tremble with the need to fix it. 

Jimin opens his mouth, about to say something, but you’re quicker. You’re going to give him what he asked you, just so you can have him close again. 

“When you were in my lap, I couldn’t believe it,” you start softly, graced with the attention of his eyes as they flick up to you in surprise. Your nerve endings sizzle, giving you the words to continue, no matter how devastatingly acute this situation is. “I tried to think of all the things I did that made me deserve having you this close, but I came up short every time. I didn’t understand how our closeness happened to begin with and I didn’t think I was worthy of it. Still do. That’s all.” 

You exhale loudly, detecting no heaviness on your chest, but absolute freedom, out of which blades of grass grow, a perfect home for wildflowers. But a cloud extends over it and it begins to rain as you watch Jimin’s natural expression break into a vivid canvas of dolefulness. The eye contact breaks along with it. The faux-blond boy hangs his head low, his long eyelashes flitting, and you think the world is ending right now as you’re taking small, careful breaths, knowing they’re the last ones. 

But Jimin’s forefinger finds your big toe, and he plays with it. Moves it back and forth, fondles it, squeezes it. Makes the last seconds of this life a little more bearable before it collapses over your head. Ponders something unknown, seemingly prolonging this end. And when he’s had enough and he fists all of your toes and looks up at you, it’s not that he stops this finale. 

He snatches you and takes you to the other world.

“I have something to tell you as well,” he says, his voice coated by that sadness and regret his whole energy is permeated with. He blinks rapidly, running his tongue over his bottom lip inside his mouth, gathering courage or perhaps waiting for your full attention because you’re dipping your gaze in and out of the intimacy of the way he’s holding your foot and the nipping graveness of this moment. 

Everything is too much at once.

“I’ve been a fool,” he starts, similarly like you did, biting the bottom lip he moistened as if to punish himself while busying his eyes on your pink toenail. He strokes the lacquer, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve done all of those things and I still do them without telling you the truth, without confessing.” He flicks his eyes up at you from his downward position, elbows propped on his knees, his stature hunched and buffy. Stops the beat of your heart with that brief look as you anticipate his next words. Sighs, the sound loud and heavy, bearing the kind of guilt and affliction that gnaws at the flesh he owns. Your brain turns off and every morsel of your feelings desires to help him, to make him feel better, but the following words that come out his mouth are the last stop to the other world, and everything is born anew. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. Soaked like a puppy in the rain, waiting all alone for your friends to finish flirting with the guys outside of the club in Hongdae. I’ve loved you since that moment because you were just like me. You weren’t in the mood, you didn’t want anyone to talk to you. I’m still surprised you smiled your beautiful smile at me when I waved at you, that you let me talk to you.”

The memory sails before your eyes like a murky cloud. All of your friends standing under the roof, smoking and talking to guys, not leaving any space for you to hide yourself from the rain. Jimin finding you in that crowd, waving at you, perceptibly softening when you waved back and smiled because you felt lonely, overlooked and profoundly depressed and he was the only one who saw you. The memory ends at the scene when Jimin walks towards you, takes off his jacket and holds it over your head while getting soaked himself.

Your cheeks were dry from your tears, but they get stained all over again as new tears begin to pour, your heart tender, beating hard but quietly from his confession. Jimin moves your foot over to his lap, drifting his fingers over it, and the tickling sensation prevents your anxious thoughts from reappearing. You breathe in his words, letting them in, letting the change in, all while you squirm and hushedly giggle from his tickles. 

Strange, strange emotions, towering over you, but they feel right—they feel like heaven, and you think that’s where your archangel has taken you.

He loves you. 

You love him and he loves you back.

He loves you.

“I’m sorry that I confused you. I should’ve told you sooner, but I was… afraid,” he says, boring his eyes into yours, sending out the authenticity, with which he covered his words, and the regret he deeply feels. “I was afraid you were comfortable with us being just friends, but still I couldn’t physically keep my distance. It was a mistake on my part, so again I’m sorry I made you feel this way.” 

Your heart grows and your body is too small to cage it inside, ferocious and wild with all the love it feels for the faux-blond boy. You feel constricted and you rid yourself of the iffy sensation by inching a little closer and enveloping your arms around his shoulders. And this time, you have the freedom to sink your fingers into his chamomile-colored hair. You have the freedom to feel the softness, to hear his quiet, confidential purr of pleasure from your touch, which essentially spurs you on to move a little further upon this trail of freedom. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, too,” you confess, and it’s the easiest thing your mouth ever emitted. No dark thoughts ruin it, but instead you understand that everything Jimin has done for you was through the strings of love that connect you to him. Your delusions weren’t delusions; they were all true conceptions and they were broiling, begging to be let out. “I fell in love with you because of your actions, because of the way you took care of me, because of the way you treated me. No one has ever treated me like you did. You’re a beautiful person with a kind heart—”

Jimin interrupts you with a cry of your name. He yanks you fully into his lap, wrapping your legs around him to make you comfortable, and he embraces you. Tightly, heartfully. You fit into him like petals to disc florets, and you never want to leave. An ardent awareness of safety swallows you whole, especially when he scrunches up your hair and nuzzles his face in your neck, breathing against you so heavily that your entire world spins. 

And then he pulls you away, and asks you the kind of question that deprives you of everything you ever knew, romantically. 

“Can I kiss you? Please, let me kiss you. Jebal.” 

The smile that stretches over your face aches as you vehemently nod and Jimin doesn’t waste a singular second. 

He smashes his mouth against yours, igniting hundreds, if not thousands, of butterflies with a loving fire that they spread across every inch of you. The kiss is deep, and unlike any kiss depicted in any kind of art that you ever longed for. Your mind is gone as soon as Jimin breaks the kiss for a millisecond and goes for another one, seizing your lips, owning them, doing to them whatever he wants. The past world is gone, heaven is in full bloom, with a legion of lesser angels celebrating the kiss of the ending century. The time is gone, too, as both of you kiss until your lips get numb, and the look you give to each other makes those innocent winged creatures cover their eyes in shyness. 

The kissing doesn’t stop there. 

With every turn of the head, with every peck and with every brush of the tongue, it fulfills everything you ever lacked. You forget every poem you learned. The colors of the paintings you liked pale in comparison. And every book scene you envisioned before you went to bed is filled with emptiness. Jimin becomes the center of your new life that stands above the fictional one you so earnestly wanted, and you tell him of it with every kiss you reciprocate.

With words, too, later when you’ve caught your breath and Jimin is spooning you with his hand on your lower belly, occasionally stretching his neck over your shoulder to take a sip of your delicious boba. And you tell him again in your dreams, where the comprehension that you no longer have to live in your headspace in order to be happy and fulfilled unfolds. You make friends with the angels and tell them as well, watching what they do as they run their fingers through his hair, making mental notes, folding them into your heart. 

You do what you learned in the bathroom the following morning, even through the excruciating pain of your cramps. Jimin kisses your feet for it, orders you to rest as he massages them, having brought you some painkillers. And when they take effect and you can function like a normal human being, you note down your first life full of art with him.

And title the first page—“THE END OF THE WORLD, THE BEGINNING OF MINE”.

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[kimtaegis]

pretty x 2 cr. namuspromised

[laurenluvss]

Jimin with orange hair has it's own fandom

[babybimge]

A gift for @lilspicypepper7

Drawn for @kmsecretsanta

Had to drew all three prompts to get something useful. I haven't drawn in a while. I somehow hope you like it.

[riveager]

.o mistério do farol, capa teste

.collab: @xxpujinxx ❤️ .status: indisponível (doada) - (formulário) .caso se inspire, dê os créditos ⚠️.

O que dizer dessa collab?? Não tenho PALAVRAS para expressar minha alegria com essa colaboração incrível com a @xxpujinxx, trazendo uma capa mais misteriosa e com elementos que remetem a esse aspecto, e, óbvio, unindo tudo isso com os REIS! Como sempre, muito obrigado por compartilhar essa ideia INCRÍVEL comigo, Helô <3 (consegui me desenferrujar nesse estilo depois de muita dor e sofrimento)

[jimin-updates]

[bluelavendre]

New jimin oneshot yall

BTS MASTERLISTS

Oneshots

💜Kim Namjoon

Strength in the Ranks

💜Kim Seokjin

Through the Years

💜Min Yoongi

Gummy Smile & Forever

💜Jung Hoseok

Encore In Paris

💜Park Jimin

Echoes of Us

Until the Stars Align

💜Kim Taehyung

I miss you, I'm sorry

Sound of Silence

A Starry Birthday Surprise

💜Jeon Jungkook

Villain's Soft Spot (snippet)

In His Shadow

Bounded by Obsession

BTS OT7 SERIES

-Surviving together-

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28???

[nataliamin]

[btssoul7]

Kim Taehyung 💜

[dolljmins]

ྐ𖥨᩠ׄ݁ ˖ ݁ 𓈒 𝘈 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

　　𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 🗝️ …⁺ 𒂭۪۪۪۪᳝۟ ᭢᜴꤬

[kookiesdayum]

He's beautiful as a dream ☆

Kim Taehyung.

[jkvjimin]

PARK JIMIN??? JEON JUNGKOOK???? HELLO?????????