#bts fic 2023 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taevbears · 1 year ago

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Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it.

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung.

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you.

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths.

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer.

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail.

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain.

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films.

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek.

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—”

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face.

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds.

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

#movie night os #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #yandere jungkook #bts horror #jungkook horror #halloween 2023 #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic

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hamsterclaw · 1 year ago

Text

Humbug

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 1 - read the rest here.

Paediatrician Dr Jung Hoseok is beloved by all his patients and everyone he works with. Unfortunately, his cheerful demeanour is only a front, underneath it all, he's a humbug.

Pairing: Hoseok x f! reader

Genre: Paediatrician Hoseok, social worker reader, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, medical emergencies

Hoseok looks up from the computer screen at the sound of his name. His eyes take a moment to adjust, the screen’s the brightest light in the otherwise darkened paediatric ward.

The nurse, Jihyo, holds out a mug of coffee, just how he likes it.

Hoseok accepts gratefully, stares at the words on the side of the mug.

Big patience for little patients.

He blinks, indifferent, and goes back to prescribing.

His phone rings, muted because it’s 3am but he can hear it loud and clear.

He lifts it to his ear. ‘Dr Jung,’ he says by way of greeting.

‘You’re needed in the ER,’ comes the crisp tone of the ER charge nurse.

Hoseok sighs, doesn’t bother to ask why. ‘I’ll be there in 5.’

He hangs up, signs the chart and gulps the rest of his coffee, scorching his tongue and the roof of his mouth but preferring the burn to the desolate pang of his empty stomach.

The dry sandwich he’d bolted at 6pm the day before is nothing but a distant memory, churning its partially digested way through his intestines.

He takes a shortcut to the ER, cutting through the works alley between buildings.

Ironic that he has to pass the unofficial smoker’s alley to get fresh air.

Kim Namjoon, his friend and the resident cardiothoracics surgeon, nods and waves a vape pen at him in greeting.

Hoseok lifts a hand back, pushes the back entrance door open that someone’s propped open with a brick, hospital security be damned, re-enters the hospital next to the mortuary.

He glances askance at the double doors. It always makes him feel a little twitchy passing the morgue in the early hours of the morning.

He reminds himself he’s a grown adult as he picks up the pace, allows himself a little sigh of relief as he turns the corner and sees the bright lights of radiology.

He’s greeted by a cacophony of noises as he enters the ER, monitors beeping, people barking out instructions, distant sirens as ambulances pull up to the drop off.

He narrows his eyes against the fluorescent white strip lighting, looking around for the charge nurse’s familiar navy tunic.

He spots her by the resus bay, grimaces a bit at the carnage from a trauma that hasn’t been cleaned up.

‘Called for a paediatric consult?’

The charge nurse nods, brisk, waves an arm in the vague direction of the paediatric area.

‘15 year old, intoxicated.’

With that she’s off, and Hoseok trudges away.

The atmosphere in the paediatric area is less jarring, not so much because of the cheerful murals on the walls, but because it’s quieter, less hectic.

Hoseok assesses a teenager in a glittery jumpsuit who smells so strongly of alcohol and hairspray he reminds him of his own high school leaving prom.

He does an assessment, makes the mistake of asking the teen if he wants a drink on his way out of the exam room.

The teen chortles gleefully.

‘Yeah, gin and tonic, hold the tonic!’

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he exits.

He’s looking for a free computer to write up his notes when there’s movement in the periphery of his vision.

‘Need a computer?’ you ask.

Hoseok blinks to wake himself up. You’re way too pretty considering the early hour. Judging by your attire, more casual than smart, your carelessly styled hair, he makes an educated guess.

‘Are you with social services?’

‘Y/N, duty social worker,’ you confirm, nodding towards the exam room he’s just exited. ‘Jaebeom’s one of ours.’

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I’m Hoseok, paediatrics. I’m admitting him until he sobers up.’

You nod. ‘His foster carer can pick him up in the morning, she’s got another child that she needs to drop off at school.’

You look around, yawning delicately behind your hand. ‘Is there a place to get coffee around here at this time?’

There’s an on-call room waiting for him, a bed, but Hoseok doesn’t hesitate.

‘If you have five minutes for me to write up my notes, I can take you to the lounge?’

You give him a look he doesn’t bother to interpret, it’s now 4am and if you say no he can always go to bed.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Thanks.’

Hoseok types up his notes with you sitting in one of the empty chairs in the otherwise deserted paediatric department.

When he logs off he’s amused to find you engrossed in sorting shapes to slot into a sphere.

‘I can give you a few more minutes if you want,’ he says, dry.

You laugh. ‘I’ll be quicker once I’ve had caffeine.’

You follow him down the corridor towards the main hospital to the lounge.

Hoseok swipes his ID badge, pushes the door open.

You take in the ancient mismatched couches, the big screen TV, the tiny kitchenette with the top-of-the-line coffee machine, the chipped mugs drying next to the sink.

‘So this is how doctors roll, huh?’ you say.

Hoseok laughs. ‘Yeah baby, stick with me and I’ll show you a good time.’

He waggles his eyebrows, and you burst out laughing.

Hoseok’s struck by your smile and the way your eyes light up. He clears his throat, tells himself to stop staring at you like a creep.

‘Latte?’ he offers, picking up the nicest mug he can see.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say.

You’re fishing in your bag, emerging with a half-opened package of cookies.

He exchanges your coffee for a cookie, gestures to one of the couches.

He’s not expecting you to sit next to him, there’s plenty of space, but after a moment, you choose the seat beside him.

You sip your coffees in silence.

‘Been busy?’ you ask.

‘Yeah, a little,’ Hoseok replies.

Up close like this, he can see the tiny piercings in your ear, the gleam of gold through the fall of your hair.

Again, he pulls himself together with effort.

‘Have you been busy?’ he asks.

You stretch a little. ‘Yeah. We’re short-staffed, like always. Also something about the cold weather makes people be shits to each other.’

Hoseok’s not surprised. Winter’s always hard, fuck Christmas spirit and all that jazz.

‘I hear you,’ he says.

You sip your coffee, offer him another cookie which he accepts.

Your phone rings in your bag, you glance at him as you fish your phone out.

‘Duty calls,’ you say ruefully. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

Hoseok’s about to bid you goodbye when you lean towards him, close, thumb brushing a corner of his mouth so quickly he barely registers it before you’re pulling your hand away.

‘Crumbs,’ you say. There’s the tiniest twinkle in your eye.

Hoseok’s voice comes out raspy as he says, ‘Thanks.’

‘See you around, doc.’

You’re not waiting for an answer, shouldering your bag, tossing him one last look on your way out.

Hoseok leans back against the couch, willing his heartrate to decelerate.

Outside, the darkest part of the night’s just about over.

***

Hoseok’s working hard to keep his bright smile on today.

He’s had a parent ask him if he has kids and then tell him he couldn’t possibly understand how precious their child is, as he doesn’t have children of his own.

He got an email from a conference he’s applied to saying due to the huge number of applicants, his abstract wasn’t selected for presentation.

His intern, Hyunjin, seems to be on a mission to aggravate him as much as possible.

‘We need a derm consult,’ Hyunjin tells him at the end of presenting the patient he’s just seen.

Hoseok closes his eyes briefly, desperately summoning what remains of his rapidly dwindling stores of patience.

‘Why do we need a derm consult, Dr Park?’ he tries not to bark.

‘This patient has verrucas.’

Hoseok blinks, takes a breath.

‘This patient needs nebulised albuterol and oxygen and an admission to paediatrics. The verrucas can wait until he gets better and the mom can stop by a pharmacy for some over-the-counter verruca treatment.’

Hyunjin stares at him.

‘He’s satting in the low nineties,’ Hoseok points out, words coming out brisk, staccato. ‘I can hear him wheezing from here.’

The ER nurse behind Hyunjin’s already tutting and prepping the neb.

‘Was there anything else, Hyunjin?’ Hoseok asks, getting up, staring at the rapidly expanding list of patients waiting for a paediatric consult.

His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a sigh.

‘Dr Jung,’ he says.

‘Is that Hoseok?’

The voice is vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it.

‘Depends who’s asking,’ he snaps.

‘It’s Y/N, the social worker. You got me coffee last week at 4am?’

Hoseok has a flash of a memory, of your hand on his face.

‘Shit, sorry,’ he says, running a hand through his hair, already sticking straight up in all directions, courtesy of the shitty haircut he got in the barbershop on his way in.

‘Rough day, huh?’ you say, the sympathy in your voice making warmth bloom in his chest.

‘Yeah.’

‘I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner after work today,’ you ask, no preamble, so direct Hoseok takes a moment to process.

‘I’d love to,’ he says. ‘I don’t get off until 8, though.’

‘I finish at 8 too,’ you say. ‘That works for me.’

You exchange numbers, and you promise to text him details.

‘Hope your day gets better, Dr Jung,’ you say, the teasing note in your voice making him smile, genuinely, for the first time, today.

‘It already is,’ he says.

He’s still smiling when he hangs up.

‘Hoseok,’ comes a voice from behind him.

Hoseok raises a brow inquiringly at Hyunjin, who, inexplicably, is still standing there.

‘About the verrucas,’ begins Hyunjin.

‘Nope,’ Hoseok says, pleasantly, still smiling.

He brushes past Hyunjin and picks up the next consult.

***

It’s ten to eight and thank fuck for that, because Hoseok’s had enough of today.

He’s getting changed out of the scrubs he was forced to change into after he was projectile vomited on by a chubby 10 month old, grateful he has spare clothes in his locker, when the door to the changing rooms opens.

Hoseok pauses, shirtless, hands on the tie of his scrubs bottoms.

Hyunjin blinks at him.

‘Nice abs, boss,’ he says.

Hoseok eyes both the fluffy white tee he was about to change into and the scrubs top he’s just discarded, questioning why he ever thought going into medicine was a good idea.

He grits his teeth.

‘Yes, Hyunjin?’

‘There’s a blue light call - breathless five year old, ETA 3 minutes.’

‘Jisoo is on tonight, let her know,’ Hoseok replies. ‘Also, close the door, damnit.’

Hyunjin looks surprised at the three medical students who have clustered behind him, all of whom are staring at Hoseok wide-eyed.

‘Jisoo’s going to be twenty minutes late, something about a train breakdown?’

Hyunjin’s got the wisdom to stay out of Hoseok’s reach.

Hoseok’s hand lands on his soft t-shirt, longingly.

With a sigh, he bypasses it and reaches for his scrubs top, pulling it over his head.

‘I’ll be right there,’ he says.

***

By the time Hoseok’s assessed the breathless patient and handed over to an apologetic Jisoo, the time on the clock on the wall says 9pm.

Hoseok pulls his phone out, dials your number.

You answer on the first ring.

Without waiting for him to say anything, you say, ‘The food’s still hot, I took the liberty of ordering for you. Are you on your way?’

Hoseok breathes out, a sigh of relief so profound he feels lightheaded.

‘Marry me,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’

He gets dressed in record time, emerges out of the carnage of the ER like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

You’re the first person he sees when he gets to the restaurant, and you’re the best thing he’s seen all day.

He greets you with a hug and a cheek kiss that you weren’t expecting, judging by the shy smile on your pretty face.

‘I —’ you start, then you stop, adorably flustered.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Hoseok says. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day.’

‘I was just going to say I ordered tempura that’s on its way,’ you say.

‘I’m sorry I’m so late,’ Hoseok says. He’s got his hand on yours on the table without any memory of how it got there, but he likes the feel of it.

‘Make it up to me,’ you say, easy.

‘I’m going to do my best,’ he promises.

***

At least four people have seen Hoseok’s bare chest today, but you’re the only person he cares about impressing, at least right at this moment.

Because holy fuck, you’re beautiful, pressed tight to him on your poky couch, mouth on his, lips and teeth clashing as he kisses you over and over.

You’re making noises that are driving him slightly crazy, making him feel hot and desperate, and he has to stop himself from looking at your tits in that black bra or he’s going to embarrass himself.

Shit.

Your hand’s slid down, brushing over his dick, and he’s so hard already he has to will himself not to nut right now.

He tugs experimentally at the strap of your bra, and when you don’t protest he tugs it down, cups the weight of your left breast.

God, you feel so good. Soft, warm, exposed nipple begging to be kissed.

He runs his thumb over your areola, a slow pass.

The low moan you let out gives him the confidence to scrape the tip of his nail over the peak of your breast.

‘God, take it off, Hoseok,’ you tell him, and Hoseok’s sure as hell not going to make you ask twice.

He slides a hand around your bare back, unhooks your bra, can’t stop himself from looking.

His dick, already trying to stand at attention in its denim prison, twitches at the sight of your bared breasts.

Hoseok’s trying to remember what colour briefs he has on, if it’ll be obvious when he takes his jeans off that he’s leaking precum just from looking at your tits.

Then you cup the length of him over his jeans, and he finds he doesn’t give a fuck.

Your skirt’s ridden up, your thighs part under his hand encouragingly.

You’re so soft Hoseok can’t suppress a groan.

He hooks a couple fingers under the gusset of your panties, tugs, and your hand lands on his.

Hoseok looks up, hand stilling.

Hoseok’s been told that he has a gorgeous smile, but just at this moment, you’re the one who’s blinding him.

‘You can touch,’ you say, voice husky, teeth in your bottom lip.

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks, his own voice raspy, dropped low.

‘Yeah.’

‘Can I taste?’

You help him tug your panties down, over the curve of your ass that he can’t resist squeezing.

He tugs the flimsy cotton down your thighs, helps you slide a leg out.

He realises, belatedly, that you never answered his question, but you don’t seem to mind as he bends down, flicks his tongue against your pretty cunt.

Damn, you sound even prettier when he’s eating you out.

Hoseok licks into your folds, nudges your clit.

He doesn’t have any hangups about giving head, especially not in a girl like you who seems to enjoy everything he’s doing.

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ you moan, breathless, eyes squeezed shut.

He pushes a finger into you, curls it, and you cry out so loudly his cock hardens even more.

He tugs at the button fly of his jeans, loosening them for a little relief.

‘Please tell me you have a condom,’ you plead, voice thick, so sexy Hoseok can’t believe you’re under him like this.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come and I’ll fuck you?’

‘Fuck me now,’ you tell him.

Hoseok seals his lips around your clit, flicks his tongue, slips another finger into you, scissoring, pressing, slow, making every movement count.

‘Hoseok!’

He doesn’t reply, because he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you’re close.

He just needs another minute.

He doesn’t know if you’ve realised that your fingers are in his hair, pulling, but he’s taking it as a positive.

He keeps doing what he’s doing with his tongue, because you seem to like it.

Your cunt tightens around his fingers, you call his name again, buck your hips into his face, and Hoseok doesn’t even need you to tell him you’re coming because he can feel you pulsing, can hear it in your voice, can feel the way everything tightens as you reach your peak.

It’s the hottest thing he’s seen in a while.

Fuck.

Hoseok draws himself out of jeans, takes himself in hand, pumps once.

You haven’t forgotten him.

��Get inside, Hoseok,’ you say, and as he fishes the condom out of his jeans you flip it out of his grasp and rip it with your teeth.

Hoseok closes his eyes as you squeeze the tip and roll it onto his dick, concentrating on not coming in your grasp.

You push him back onto the couch, get on top of him, and Hoseok could weep at the view.

Your hair’s a mess, your lips bitten and flushed, and goddamn, your tits need to be in a museum.

He doesn’t realise he’s said that last bit out loud until you burst out laughing.

‘Shut up, Hoseok,’ you tell him, but you’re still riding him so there’s that.

Hoseok grabs your hips, helps you move even though you’re doing a pretty damn good job already.

‘You like this, Hoseok?’ you ask.

Hoseok flexes his cock inside you. ‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘I like it too.’

‘Yeah?’

You lean forward, tits bouncing in front of his face, and Hoseok thinks that if he died right now, smothered in between your breasts, he wouldn’t mind one bit.

‘Go on, baby, take what you want,’ you say.

Hoseok bucks his hips hard, up into the wet warmth of your cunt, tugs your head down to kiss you deep, open-mouthed, and comes with a groan, deep in his chest.

Bliss.

***

Hoseok wakes in a bed he doesn’t remember getting into, a bedroom that he finds soothing, with its neutral colours and soft sunlight filtering in the crack between the curtains.

There’s an arm flung across his chest, the soft curve of a breast against his chest.

You’re turned away, boneless, in a deep sleep.

His incorrigible cock stirs as he takes in the line of your back, down to the tempting curve of your ass.

He spots the clock on the wall, groans when he realises he should really be up now if he wants to get to work on time.

You’re still dead asleep even after he’s fully dressed, splayed out in the sheets, gloriously naked.

Hoseok pulls the duvet over your bare shoulder, resists the urge to kiss your upturned cheek, and makes sure the door’s locked behind him as he leaves.

***

Hoseok tightens his scarf around his neck as he waits for you at the entrance to the Christmas market you’ve managed to convince him to accompany you to.

The fact is, he hates the cold, he thinks all Christmas markets are gimmicky and overpriced, and after a run of incredibly busy shifts, he’d much rather be in bed with you right now than here.

Hoseok sidesteps neatly as he’s approached by a jovial couple dressed as Father Christmas and Mrs Klaus.

He’s about to pull his phone out to check on you when you hurry up to him, tuck your arm in his.

‘Hobi! You weren’t waiting long, were you?’

Hoseok looks at your bright smile and can’t bring himself to say anything other than ‘no, not long.’

Your lips are cold, but the kiss you plant on his cheek, next to his mouth, goes a long way towards improving his mood.

He doesn’t even give the three elves handing out tiny candy canes a dirty look.

‘Crepes?’ you suggest, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the longest queue is in front of the crepe stand.

‘Sure,’ Hoseok agrees.

You get in line and immediately turn to him, sliding your arms around his waist, under his coat.

‘How’ve you been?’ you ask.

Hoseok and you have met up a couple times over the last three weeks, enough that he’s left a spare shirt and some toiletries at your place.

You’re sweet, and fun, and he hopes you like him as much as he’s starting to like you.

‘I’m better now,’ he says, just so he can admire the glow of your smile.

‘You’re cheesy,’ you say, but the brightness in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

‘Nah,’ Hoseok replies. ‘You dragged us to this Christmas market, I know you’ve got your eye on one of those tacky reindeer tree ornaments, you don’t get to call me cheesy.’

‘I like the blue one,’ you say, conceding so easily Hoseok has to smile.

‘Wait here, I’ll go and get it,’ he says.

‘What crepe do you want?’ you ask, as he pulls away.

‘Surprise me,’ he tells you.

Hoseok walks over to the ornament stall you’ve been eyeing for the past five minutes, picks out the blue ornament, hesitates over the collection of tiny gold Christmas bauble earrings.

He makes a decision, pays, shoves his purchases into his coat pocket and walks back to you.

You hold a crepe out to him, and he accepts with a ‘thanks’, taking the warm paper-wrapped bundle out of your hand and taking a bite.

The warm melted chocolate floods his taste buds, and he tries not to moan at the gooey sweetness of it.

‘Good, right?’ you ask. ‘Worth the wait.’

You’re not waiting for an answer, skipping ahead, heading for the chestnuts and hot chocolate like you’re a walking Christmas cliche.

Hoseok follows behind you. He finds he doesn’t really mind.

***

You stick your key in the lock, unlock the door to your apartment, don’t bother with the lights before you turn around and slide your hands up Hoseok’s chest, fingers tucked under the lapels of his coat.

Hoseok doesn’t have a lot to say, not when you’re looking up at him, lips pouted for a kiss.

He slips a hand around the back of your neck, cupping your head, and tilts his head down to yours.

‘Mmmm,’ you murmur. ‘You taste like chocolate.’

Hoseok leans down again, kisses you deep, tongue sliding into your mouth.

‘It’s cold,’ he says. ‘Warm me up.’

He’s only half-serious, having you pressed against him like this is doing a hell of a job of warming him up.

The wicked gleam in your eye gets him the rest of the way.

‘Come on. Want to take a bath?’ you ask.

Hoseok makes out with you in front of the mirror in your bathroom whilst the tub fills, is a short second away from guiding his cock between your legs when you pull away, bend over in front of him to test the temperature.

‘Get in,’ you say, and Hoseok’s always been good at following instructions.

He slides into the warm heat of the bath, groans at the feel of it, reaches out to steady you as you climb in on top of him, right into his lap, impatient like he feels.

You look so good bare and wet like this, the steam making tendrils of your hair curl against your neck, the tops of your breasts visible above the water line. Hoseok hadn’t thought he could get any harder but he does.

‘Sit on me,’ he says, and there’s a slosh of water, wet skin against wet skin, and then the slippery warmth of your cunt, taking him in.

The tips of your breasts jiggle in front of him as you move, and between the tightness of your walls around him and the prettiness of your moans, Hoseok’s in heaven.

He slips a hand around your hips, helping you ride him, and curls his hand around your breast, lifting it out of the water so he can suck.

You cry his name as he flicks his tongue over your nipple, and Hoseok squeezes the flesh of your hip, tight, under the water.

Your rhythm’s erratic but it’s making the pleasure build, short, tight circles of your hips against his.

‘Hoseok,’ you moan.

‘Yeah?’ he mumbles, lips around the peak of your breast.

He flexes his cock inside you, hums in satisfaction at the way your face goes slack, eyes half closed.

Shit, you look so pretty in the throes of pleasure.

Hoseok slides a hand up, fingers curling around your neck, thumb pressed into the hollow between your collarbones.

Your voice is hoarse now, raspy like his, as he urges, ‘Go on, take it.’

He presses down, you gasp, and lose your rhythm entirely as you come around his cock, walls spasming around him.

Hoseok takes over, fucking you through it, hardening until he comes with a low grunt.

Wet, slick, warm.

You’re tired, he can tell, the way you’re slumping against his chest.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll wash us off.’

He coaxes you into your shower with him, soaps over the marks he’s made on your skin, wraps you into a towel.

By the time you’re both in bed, you’re more asleep than awake.

‘Work tomorrow?’ you ask.

‘I’m working,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘Want me to set an alarm for you?’

He doesn’t get an answer, you’re asleep on his chest already.

He should get up, switch some lights off, but a moment later, he’s asleep too.

***

Hoseok never thought he’d see the day he would want Hyunjin to be around, but he’s getting slammed, and the way things are looking, he needs all hands on deck.

He’s jogging down the corridor to his second emergency call for the day despite it being only 10am. It’s busy even for the holidays.

‘House fire,’ barks Mira, the ER charge nurse as Hoseok snaps on gloves. ‘Three children, five minutes out.’

‘How bad?’ asks Hoseok, prepping an IV access kit.

‘PICU are aware, they’re sending backup when they can but they’ve got their own internal collapse, they’re dealing with an arrest on the neurosurgical ward,’ Mira replies.

The doors slide open, and Hoseok can already tell from the looks on the paramedics’ faces that it’s not looking good.

Fucking hell, where’s Hyunjin, what a day to be in resus training instead of on the floor.

The second patient’s wheeled in as the first is still being parked, and Hoseok’s surprised to see you accompanying them, covered in soot, but he doesn’t have time to process now.

All he can do is deal with what’s in front of him, so that’s what he does.

***

It’s well into the afternoon by the time all three patients are stabilised and wheeled up to the PICU.

Hoseok’s washing his hands mechanically in one of the resus sinks, buying his brain some time to come down from the adrenaline of the last few hours, when he hears his name called.

‘Hey,’ you say, holding out a cup to him.

Hoseok takes a big gulp of the steaming hot coffee. There’s sugar in it, he doesn’t usually have sugar in his coffee, but today it goes down smooth, giving him a much-needed glucose boost.

He drinks most of it before he can muster a ‘Thanks.’

You don’t seem to be in a hurry.

You’ve cleaned most of the soot off your face, but your top is ruined.

Belatedly, Hoseok notices a plaster on your arm, remembers that you came in with the ambulance crew and the three kids.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

‘I’m fine,’ you say. ‘I was just outside the house when the gas oven imploded. I saw the kids in the window and got them out.’

Hoseok blinks. He hadn’t been expecting that.

‘You ran into a burning house?’

You frown a bit. ‘It wasn’t burning then, there was just smoke everywhere.’

You cough, and he notices that your voice is a little hoarse.

‘Besides, I was right there and I saw the kids, I couldn’t leave them.’

‘Shit,’ Hoseok says. He pulls you into a hug. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Do you think they’re going to be ok?’ you ask, resting your head on his chest.

‘I hope so,’ Hoseok says.

He pulls away. ‘Did they check your carbon monoxide levels?’

You laugh, and the tension in his chest eases a little. ‘Yes, doc, I’ve been cleared for discharge.’

You grab his hand, squeeze. ‘I’m probably doing better than you right now.’

‘This is why I hate Christmas,’ Hoseok blurts out.

You’re looking at him, but you don’t say anything, and he can’t stop anyway.

‘Everyone goes on about Christmas and goodwill and people helping each other and yet the same shit happens as the rest of the year. It means nothing, just a commercial holiday that big companies use to make money out of dumb people.’

‘It’s bullshit,’ Hoseok says.

‘My parents feel the same as you,’ you say. You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. ‘They never celebrated the holidays.’

‘They had the right idea,’ Hoseok agrees.

‘When do you get off today?’ you ask. ‘I can make us dinner, if you want.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be good company,’ Hoseok says, honestly.

‘You’re welcome, even if you’re the biggest grinch in the world,’ you say, with a sweetness that makes warmth bloom in his chest.

‘I’m not a grinch,’ he says, half-heartedly.

‘A humbug, then,’ you say.

You reach out and touch his cheek.

‘Come over, later, if you want.’

***

Hoseok finds himself outside your apartment after his shift, wondering if you really wanted him to come over.

You don’t keep him waiting long, soon enough you’re opening the door, handing him a glass of wine, putting food in front of him.

Hoseok hasn’t even so much as showered, he came straight from work.

You notice him looking at the half-decorated Christmas tree you’ve got in your lounge, the open box of ornaments next to it.

‘I like Christmas,’ you say. ‘I thought I’d cheer myself up by putting up a tree.’

You seem to be worried about his reaction, so Hoseok grasps your hand.

‘Just because I’m a grinch doesn’t mean you have to be,’ he says.

You smile. ‘My parents never had a tree and I always wanted one.’

The food and the wine are going a long way towards making Hoseok feel normal again after his day.

‘Are you going to see them for Christmas?’ he asks.

There’s a brief shadow across your face, so quick he isn’t sure if he saw it.

‘They’re doing relief work in South Sudan,’ you say. ‘They’re doctors too.’

You ask, ‘Are you away for Christmas?’

‘Yeah, my parents and sister are upstate. I’ll drive up to them.’

‘Are they grinches like you are?’ you ask, teasing.

Hoseok laughs. ‘I’m the only grinch in the family. My mother goes all out, and my sister loves Christmas too.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ you say, a hint of wistfulness in your tone.

Your top’s slipped down over your shoulder, and between the way your skin gleams and the way your lips are stained from the wine, you’re so pretty Hoseok’s distracted.

He reaches out, tugging you into his arms.

‘Can I take a shower?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ you say. The mischievous twinkle is back in your eyes now. ‘Want company?’

‘Always,’ Hoseok says.

***

For once, you’re up before him the next morning.

He must have been more tired than he realised.

You’re fastening your bra in a feat of dexterity he’s always admired.

‘Shame I missed the show,’ he says, his voice raspy in the darkness of your bedroom.

‘Happens every morning,’ you say. ‘You’ve got an invite every time.’

Hoseok laughs, rolls over, sheet around his waist.

‘What time is it?’ he asks, propping his arm behind his head, looking out the crack in the window as the snow falling outside.

‘It’s 6am on Christmas eve,’ you tell him.

‘Shit, I gotta pack for tonight,’ he says.

You pull a sweater on over a tee, sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on.

‘I probably won’t see you until after the holidays, huh?’

‘I’m back in a couple days,’ Hoseok says, hand on the small of your back where your sweater’s ridden up.

‘Yeah. Merry Christmas, Hobi. Eat all the turkey for me.’

‘I don’t even like turkey,’ he says, honestly.

You laugh, amused, and cup his cheek. ‘See you after Christmas, grinch. There’s coffee in the kitchen.’

Your goodbye kiss makes him want to pull you back into bed with him.

***

Hoseok pulls up outside his parents’ house, rubs the back of his neck, trying to get the crick out.

He can see the living room and kitchen lights are on, and he already knows that when he opens the front door and steps in he’ll be greeted with familiar smells.

Cinnamon. Fresh bread. The chicken dish his eomma always makes the night before Christmas.

He realises with a start that he never thought to ask you what you’d be doing for Christmas.

He’d spent an hour finishing decorating your tree after you left your apartment, so that you’d have a fully-decked out tree when you came back from work today, and had only belatedly realised that perhaps you’d have had fun decorating the tree together.

He’d put the earrings he got you under the tree, hung the gloriously tacky blue ornament he’d picked up for you at the Christmas market.

He’d packed the red lace panties you’d tossed merrily in his face when you’d stripped for him the night before, in the shower.

Shit, maybe that was a creep thing to do.

Too late now.

The front door opens, and his sister stands in the doorway.

‘Come on, what’s taking you so long,’ she asks.

‘Coming,’ Hoseok says.

He grabs his bag out the trunk and goes inside.

***

Hoseok wonders if he’s even in the right place.

You’d once told him, offhand, that you often volunteer at the shelter close to your apartment on Christmas day, and when he’d gone to your apartment and you weren’t in, he’d driven here.

It’s a women’s shelter, and he’s trying to make himself look as harmless as possible as he waits to be let in.

A woman dressed in a light-up jumper opens the door, eyes him suspiciously.

Hoseok has a sudden feeling that he’s made a terrible mistake.

It’s too late now.

‘I’m Hoseok, I’m a friend of Y/N’s. Is she here?’ he asks

To his relief, the woman’s face transforms into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘You’re the doctor friend she keeps telling us about! Come in, she’s here.’

The woman grasps him by the arm, pulls him in out of the snow.

‘She’s helping in the kitchen, you can help too, if you want.’

‘Sure,’ Hoseok says. Her grip on his arm is strong, there’s no way he’s going to say no.

He’s led to an industrial looking kitchen, dated but clean, greeted by the sounds of chatter and Christmas classics.

There’s mess everywhere, like Santa exploded, but all that falls away when he sees you.

You look up, spot him, and the smile on your face makes him smile too. He probably looks like an idiot, here grinning at you, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

You get up, and then somehow you’re in his arms, the reindeer headband you have on poking him in the jaw but he’s still not bothered.

There’s heckling, teasing, whooping, but all he sees and hears is you.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, holding him so tightly he can barely breathe.

He likes it.

‘I forgot to wish you Merry Christmas,’ he says.

‘Merry Christmas, humbug.’

Hoseok wants to argue that he’s not a humbug, not really, but you’re kissing him, so he shuts up and kisses you back instead.

©hamsterclaw 2023

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok fanfic #bangtan christmas 2023 #bangtan christmas #bts fic #bts smut #jhope fic #jhope smut

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 1 year ago

Text

Aşk-ı Memnu | JJK

Pairing: non idol! Jungkook x fem! married! Reader

Summary: What is prohibited, it's desired the most. Or in which you tangle yourself in a forbidden love with Jeon Jungkook while being married to an older man. Yet it is also said that forbidden fruits taste the best.

Warnings: fluff, angst, forbidden love, food ingestion, cheating, age gap, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption (during dinner), lying, mentions of death, reader is described to be shorter than Jungkook, (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 1.8k

~Prompt 3: Saying “I love you” for the first time

~Snowflakes divider by @samspenandsword

~Prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

A/N: This short story was highly inspired by the Turkish novel of the same name "Aşk-ı Memnu" which translates as "Forbidden Love" in English. Let me know what you thought of this controversial story in the comments!

You can listen to the series' music on Spotify to get into ambience as it helped me a lot to write this. Just search it with the same Turkish name. Happy reading everyone!

Love knows no boundaries. Love is untamable, like the sea. Like a flame. It exists, it consumes. It destroys.

It was cold outside, the night was heavy over the city. Snow was falling from the sky yet the house was warm. The clicking of the cutlery against the expensive china plates could be heard along with the flickering flames of the fireplace.

You sat next to your husband, the man clearly enjoying his dinner and you couldn't help but smile softly at his praises for the new cook.

"So, tell me Seokjin. How is your father?"

Asked your husband, a rich business man by the name of Lee Yong-su. Seokjin smiled against his glass of wine, he put it down and looked at your husband, the two men happily engaging in conversation.

"He's quite well, actually. His treatment is going smoothly and we expect a complete recovery by the end of February."

"Give him my regards when you see him, Seokjin."

The young businessman turned to look at you, bowing his head softly at you not minding at all the fact that you were younger than him.

"Of course, Mrs. Lee."

You smiled kindly at him before the conversation between Seokjin and your husband took place once more. You continued to enjoy your dinner, allowing your thoughts to wander for a bit.

The marriage with your husband had been really controversial given the age difference between you both and the fact that he already had two children with his other wife that you knew had passed away.

Nisun was the oldest. A seventeen year old girl who resented you for taking the place of her mother. Munwoo was the youngest, he was twelve and the innocent boy never ceased to claim that if you ever divorced his father, he'd marry you instead for he had always wanted to marry a beautiful woman when he was of age.

You found it cute whenever he mentioned something like that, only smiling at Munwoo before he got distracted with his videogames once more.

But those weren't the only people that lived in the mansion when you married your husband. There was someone else. A person you had met before you became Yong-su's wife.

Jeon Jungkook.

You knew that he was the only son of one of your husband's closest friends that had sadly died in a car accident when Jungkook was barely five years old. Yong-su had taken him under his wing, providing for him and taking care of him as if he were his own son.

Jungkook was also twenty-six, just like you. And that was the first motive so as to why you two clicked so easily. Yet that fact was the beginning of a web of lies and passion that you had never thought you’d be a part of.

He was also very handsome, a sleeve of tattoos adorned his right arm, his lip and eyebrow were pierced and his hair was rebellious like his soul. Jungkook was a really attractive man and, according to his own phrasing, you were the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

Lust ruled your relationship with the son of your husband’s best friend. Desires of the body, flames of the heart. Feelings were never involved, or at least that was what was planned in the very beginning.

But to be honest, nothing was ever planned. This mess you were now tangled in started with a glance, continued with a kiss and ended with you in his bed. Sentiment was never supposed to happen. Everything was dominated by a mutual carnal infatuation.

You weren’t in love with your husband. The marriage had only been a great opportunity for you and your soft revenge on your cruel mother but Yong-su was deeply in love with you. To him, it didn’t matter the nearly twenty years age gap between you both. It didn’t matter that he had been married before. It didn’t matter he already had two children. He loved you, he cherished you, he wanted you almost in a fierceful way.

“Darling, are you alright? You aren’t usually this quiet during dinner.”

Looking at your right, you met the concerned gaze of your husband, you smiled slightly though not fully.

“I’m alright, I just have a headache.”

Yong-su frowned, you felt the eyes of everyone on you, even Jungkook’s gaze. It burned you to even know he was looking at you.

“Don’t worry about me, dearest.”

Silence filled the room after those words left your lips before soft conversations began to arise once more on the table. The children started talking about a new movie that was going to come out next week while your husband and Seokjin talked about business. Jungkook was still looking at you and you were able to read the concern in his dark eyes.

You smiled at him, ever so delicately and he nodded subtly. Taking in your silent reassurance as he resumed his dinner.

Butterflies flew in your stomach at his concern. At what you had seen in his eyes. Those hidden emotions behind his gaze. A dark galaxy you loved getting yourself lost in. The place where you found comfort during lonely nights and a refuge when your soul tormented you. Yet the fact that your love was forbidden only made you want it more. It attracted you more. You desired it more. You needed it more. Needed him. As if you were metal and Jungkook was your magnet. Like a forbidden fruit. Prohibited yet delicious.

“Are you alright?”

You knew that voice. Its raspiness did things to you that shouldn’t happen as a married woman. His deep voice always captivated you. You turned around, facing Jungkook. He stood in the kitchen’s doorway, leaning against the frame as his gaze pierced your own with intensity that a shiver ran down your spine.

"Yes, I just took a pill for the headache. Don't worry, Jungkook."

He frowned softly at your last sentence, uncrossing his arms as he walked towards you with his large steps. Your breath hitched in your throat when he stood in front of you a little too close for it to be proper.

"I always worry about you, (y/n)."

You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Nothing came to your mind. There were no words in your mouth to express, no thoughts in your mind to keep you busy.

"You matter to me more than you could imagine."

You looked aside, trying to break free from this chain he held you in. You took a deep breath, eyes focusing on your nearly empty glass of water that rested on the counter.

"Stop it, someone could hear us."

He took another step towards you, eyes never leaving your form as he gazed down at you.

"Uncle Yong-su is in his study with Kim Seokjin,"

His fingers grabbed your chin ever so softly, turning your head so that your eyes met his before he continued in a soft murmur.

"and the children are already upstairs."

His hand cupped your face while his thumb caressed your cheek in delicate touches. His dark eyes took you in; your beauty, your personality. Your essence.

Your hand rested atop his own. Even when the feeling of his skin against your own burned you with desire and adoration, you weren't allowed to show your sentiment freely.

"I don't want to risk it, Jungkook."

He smirked at your whispered words. Daring to take another step until your chests were almost touching. His warm and minty breath fanned your face and you, once more, lost yourself in his enchanting eyes that held your whole world.

"Risk what, (y/n)? Us? Are you that scared of my love for you to be known to the world?"

Your eyes widened at his words. You took a step back in pure instinct, forcing his hand to leave your cheek as you shook your head in silent motions of hidden despair.

"Because I love you, (y/n). I have for a while. And it only keeps growing in my heart."

You took a deep breath, trying to process everything that was leaving his mouth, wrapping your head around the fact that Jungkook was in love with you. If anything, it complicated things even more yet that didn't mean you craved it any less.

"You can't. Jungkook, you can't love me."

His hands were on your shoulders the next second making a soundless gasp leave your lips. His eyes bore into yours like never before that you nearly felt his soul touch your own.

"But I do. And I do not regret it."

You stood in silence, never breaking eye contact with him. Why now? Why did he have to say such a thing now?

"If you do not love me, say it. Say it and nothing left my mouth. Say it and I'll try to stop."

But how could you say that you didn't love him when your heart beats for him and only him? How could you tell such a lie when you loved him more than your life?

"Jungkook, I-"

"Love, are you there?"

The voice of your husband was heard from around the corner. Your eyes widened in fear and Jungkook put a finger over his lips, signalling you to stay quiet as he went to hide behind a wall, opposite from the kitchen's entrance.

You turned around in time to face your husband crossing the doorway with a soft smile on his lips.

"Yes, I just took a pill for my headache."

Yong-su frowned and walked over to you, eyes searching on your own with concern.

"Are you alright? I need you to sign some documents but if you are not feeling right you can do it later."

Your eyes momentarily looked at where Jungkook was hiding before you shook your head with a smile.

"It's alright, I can do it now."

Yong-su nodded, walking out of the kitchen with you behind him. But just as you were about to leave the room, you turned to look back only to spot Jungkook peeking out from around the wall upon hearing your fading footsteps.

With your heart skipping a beat, you sent him a subtle nod. The trace of a smile over your lips before you disappeared behind the wall.

And it was in that moment that he smiled to himself, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest upon the silent confirmation of your love for him.

It didn't matter if it was prohibited, that it was a sin. That you were betraying your husband with Jungkook. For you were his forbidden fruit he should not even gaze at but your essence was addictive he couldn't think to stop himself. Not now, not ever, because love knows no boundaries. Love is untamable, like the sea. Like a flame. It exists, it consumes. It destroys.

December/15/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

#jungkook #bts #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #love #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #kim seokjin #bts jungkook #forbidden love #Aşk-ı Memnu #aşk ı memnu #reader insert #winter event 2023 #sweetcarrotsandroses97 #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #angst

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bts-hyperfixation · 2 years ago

Text

Don't go

Summary:

Prompt given: Namjoon falling in love with YN and realizing it over the small things she does that makes him go crazy

Y/N visits Joonie because something's been playing on her mind and she just can't sleep. She is hoping that getting her secret off her chest will help.

Notes:

This fic is part of a request series I am doing. The document in order to request is still open. If you would like to submit, I can't promise that it will be carried out but I enjoy reading submissions.

The dialogue prompts here were: "it's 3:00 a.m." "You would really do that for me." "We need to talk"

"Y/N? It's 3 a.m..." Namjoon states as he stares up at you bewildered.

"And? You're awake aren't you." You gesture to his work in front of him as you set a coffee in the cupholder of his mixing desk.

"I guess I am yeah."

He watches as you latch his studio door shut. It's a common occurrence, you letting yourself into his studio when you have something on your mind, although it's rarely this late in the day, or rather early. You wriggle slightly on the sofa by the door, creating the perfect indent for yourself between the pillows.

Joon smiles to himself as you get comfy, enjoying how your nose crinkles as you elbow at the overstuffed cushions until they sit precisely how you like them to. H waits patiently as you take a sip of your drink and prepare yourself to ask him for advice.

"How was your day?" You ask, avoiding what you came here for.

"You know how my day was, you've been texting me for a lot of it." He retorts.

You roll your eyes at him, as if his point didn't matter.

"Texting isn't the same as hearing you tell me. You don't share all of the little details over text. Of course I know you've been here for hours working on a track but I don't know how the melody sounds, I don't know how the pasta you had for lunch tasted, and you are yet to tell me about Jungkook's daily message."

You were very involved for a friend. But that's something Namjoon liked about you. It was reassuring to know that you wanted to know all of the mundane things that went on in his day, especially with his ability to ramble on at times if you caught him on the right topics.

Today though, he knew you weren't here to find out that Jungkook had messaged about his Mario high score.

"Do you want to save us both time and tell me what's on your mind? Or do you want me to actually run through all your questions before we get to the point? Because I could really do with getting back to this track Y/N-ah"

You take a deep breath, the kind he knows means you're nervous. An odd feeling to have directed at him.

"We need to talk." You state, looking anywhere but at him.

"This sounds serious."

He turns and makes sure all of his work is saved before crossing the room to sit next to you on the sofa.

"It is..."

"You can tell me anything, you know that." He takes your hand and tries to meet your eyes, but you can't bring yourself to meet his.

"You remember when I broke up with my ex?"

"I do." Namjoon says with gritted teeth.

Something about that guy had just rubbed him completely the wrong way. It was like he never saw what a great girl you were, always making you sad and never appreciating your quirks. He said you asked too many questions and took too much time to make decisions. It infuriated Namjoon that you had always felt like you were too much for a man that Namjoon had always thought was never enough.

"Well he actually broke up with me... and the reason he gave, well it has been playing on my mind for a couple weeks now."

"If he made you feel anything less than perfect I will break his nose." Namjoon threatens without thinking.

You take ahold of his other hand and force yourself to look at his face.

"You would really do that for me?"

"I would do anything for you."

"I think answers like that is what my ex say what he did..." you laugh humourlessly

"Which was what?"

"He said I could never love him because I was already in love...with you."

"That's ridiculous, we're just friends" Namjoon chuckles, but it's breathy and contemplative.

Not his usual laugh, this didn't even tempt his dimples to appear.

"Is it really that ridiculous?"

Suddenly this confession didn't seem like such a great idea. Namjoon's expression was blank as he thought, giving nothing away about how terribly this exchange could possibly go. You're grip on his hand loosens and you begin to think about leaving. You'd had weeks to think about how you truly felt about your best friend. Now you were springing the concept on him with no notice in the middle of the night just because you couldn't sleep.

It was unfair to expect an answer back from him immediately.

"I'm sorry, this wasn't the time to tell you this. I should go."

And, even knowing you just threw a live grenade into the best friendship you ever had, you get up to leave.

Your hand was on the door turning the knob when his strong hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you back into his solid chest. He holds you there against him, your back to his front, feeling his heart beating against you.

"Don't." He whispers right into your ear. "Don't go."

You stare at the back of the door, knowing he will let you go if you put up the slightest bit of resistance. But not a single molecule in your body wants to move away/

"Do you love me?" He asks, his voice gravelly.

"I think I do."

"You either do or you don't, there is no think."

"I do. But how do you feel."

"If you had brought this up a few months ago I'm not sure I could've answered you. But for the last few weeks, every day I went without seeing your face made my heart ache. Your smile is arguably the best part of my day, and your having a boyfriend really fucking sucked. It took me longer to work out why than I care to admit."

His hands wander along your sides as he speaks, committing the feeling of your curves to memory, like this conversation isn't going to end the way he wants it to.

"Y/N I think I might've been in love with you for the entirety of the last ten years that we've been friends... does that scare you?"

"Not when I feel the same way."

His restraint disappears then and his lips disappear from your ear to kiss along your neck. He leaves hot open-mouthed kisses to the exposed skin before turning you in his arms so he can finally reach your mouth with his own.

He stumbles back onto the sofa, dragging you with him, noses bumping into one another as you struggle to stay connected as you move. You straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and grind down into his lap. His hands find their way under your shirt, pulling the fabric out of the way so he can reach more bare skin.

Your shirt lands on the opposite side of the room, tossed as far as possible from the two of you as you scramble to also remove his shirt. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, feeling the way his muscles tense as you trail your fingers along him. His nails dig into your sides as he bites along your collarbones, leaving marks everywhere he can, finally able to stake his claim on you.

"Joonie?"

He groans into you in response, unwilling to pull away just yet.

"I need to stand up if you want this to go any further."

Immediately he is pushing you away so you can stand in front of him. He watches greedily as you remove your trousers, eyes roaming freely over every inch of your body.

"So perfect." He mutters, completely forgetting he should probably be removing his own clothes too.

You blush at the compliment, shyly removing your underwear under his careful gaze. As soon as you're done he reaches out for you to sit back in his lap, pulling you on top of him. With his lips reattached to your own, he lifts his hips just enough to wriggle free of the confines of his grey sweats. He leaves the fabric halfway down his thighs and then his hands return to your hips. He guides you down gently, bringing your exposed sex in contact with his erection for the first time.

Even without looking, you can tell he is big, which isn't necessarily a surprise, but it doesn't stop you from shivering as you feel the tip drag along your clit. One hand trails down between your thighs, coming in between you and his dick so he can feel you properly. Two fingers tease your entrance as his thumb circles around your clit. You bury your face in the crook of his neck as he focuses on bringing you pleasure.

You moan as he presses against your nerves, your legs squeezing around his thighs.

"You sound so pretty like this." He groans, making it sound like you're the one with your hands wrapped around him.

He sounds desperate and breathless as his fingers work tirelessly inside of you, scissoring you open ready for the main event. The anticipation is killing you as you can feel your first orgasm building in your stomach. His thumb shifts to sloppy figure eights as his fingers hook inside of you, pressing against your g-spot.

His hand comes away soaking, but he doesn't seem to care. You look up from his shoulder just long enough to watch him take his fingers into his mouth to taste you for the first time.

"Next time I'm tasting you straight from the source." He nearly whines.

When the remaining taste of you is gone he uses his hand to direct his throbbing cock to your entrance. You do your best to sit up straight, making eye contact with him as he slowly lowers you down onto him. He bites his lip, eyes darting across your features to take in every reaction you have as you bottom out.

You can feel him in your stomach.

You bounce a little, gaining momentum as his groans fill you with confidence. His strong arms help you maintain balance as you move up and down against him.

"God I love the way you feel around me. I never want to move again." He groans.

His fingers turn white as his fingernails leave crescent moon shapes on your sides. You pull at his hair, slipping your fingers through the long dark stands.

"I'm so close baby, you look too good." He moans, face falling forward into your chest.

His calling you baby for the first time has you clenching around him hard, making it difficult for him to hold on any longer. He cums hard as you slip down all the was on to him one more time. Both of you pant as you come down from his high. His arms encircle you bringing you to lie against his chest as he goes soft inside of you.

"I can't believe we've spent so long together not doing that." He breathes.

"I know." You answer.

"Seriously, I never want to do anything again that isn't that

Masterlist

#kim namjoon fic #kim namjoon smut #bts fic #bts smut #rm fic #rm smut #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #kpop fic #kpop smut #namjoon praise #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts request #2023 request

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arosesstorm · 11 months ago

Text

bangtan as gang members

do I believe they would be capable of those type of things? absolutely not because they're the purest souls to have ever walked this earth. that said:

the informant: jhope A person who provides privileged information, or (usually damaging) information intended to be intimate, concealed, or secret, about a person or organization to someone else.

drug lord: yoongi A type of crime boss, who is in charge of a drug-trafficking network, organization, or enterprise.

bagman: taehyung May be involved in protection rackets or the numbers game, collecting or distributing the money involved. When acting as an intermediary in such activities, a bagman may also be called delivery boy or running man, and may receive a fraction of the money collected.

cybercrime : jimin Cybercrime encompasses a wide range of criminal activities that are carried out using digital devices and/or networks. These crimes involve the use of technology to commit fraud, identity theft, data breaches, computer viruses, scams, and expanded upon in other malicious acts.

the assassin: jungkook Contract killing (also known as murder-for-hire) is a form of murder or assassination in which one party hires another party to kill a targeted person or people.[1] It involves an agreement which includes some form of compensation, monetary or otherwise.

seller of stolen property : seokjin Possession of stolen goods is a crime in which an individual has bought, been given, or acquired stolen goods.In many jurisdictions, if an individual has accepted possession of goods (or property) and knew they were stolen, then the individual may be charged with a crime, depending on the value of the stolen goods, and the goods are returned to the original owner.

weapons trafficker : namjoon Arms trafficking or gunrunning is the illicit trade of contraband small arms, explosives, and ammunition, which constitutes part of a broad range of illegal activities often associated with transnational criminal organizations.

info -> wikipedia

(bts ai saving lives)

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stormi-recs · 1 year ago

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stormi's fic recs | 07.2023

hi friends! july was busy for me so i didn’t read much but what i did read was absolutely amazing. shoutout to these amazing writers.

note: i do not own or claim any of these works as my own. if you find a story you like on this list, please consider supporting the author with a review, reblog, comment, ko-fi, or signal boost.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ most of this content is nsfw and mature rated. minors should stop at this point and exit.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ kim seokjin

midsummer by @hobeemin (m)

➵ once a year on the summer solstice, the veil between the realms thins. the couple can finally walk among the world without a care. what happens during midsummer, stays on midsummer. [fluff; romance; smut; urban fantasy; hybrid au; oneshot; poc!reader(twerks); sequel; 2k; 18+]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ min yoongi

➵ nothing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ jung hoseok

➵ nothing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ kim namjoon

closer by @joon4eva (m)

➵ no summary. [fluff; smut; established relationship; oneshot; 4k; 18+]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ park jimin

➵ nothing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ kim taehyung

➵ nothing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ jeon jungkook

in the sheets by @euphorajeon (m)

➵ a sleepy jeongguk in the morning is very soft and whiny, a stark contrast to the usual annoying and full-of-tease jeongguk. (either way, you love him all the same.) [fluff; boxer!jk; college au; oneshot; 18+; 1k] - series here.

make up sex by @7brownsuga7 (m)

➵ you and your boyfriend jungkook have a heated argument. he fucks you until you’re a tired mess to make up for what he’s said. [angst; fluff; smut; oneshot; 2k; 18+]

seven tattoos later by @yoon-kooks (m)

➵ if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him? [fluff; smut; oneshot; 3k; 18+]

you good? by @mono-moonchilds (m)

➵ what if... you gave Jungkook head [smut; drabble; less than 1k; 18+]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ot7

the lick it series by @jjksblackgf (m)

➵ it's in the ups and downs of life that you can find someone to make your toes curl. [smut; established relationship; series; 21+]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ note: this blog does not support plagiarism. if you notice any content here that has been taken without your permission or without crediting you, it will be removed and reported.

#stormi's fic recs #july 2023 #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #seokjin fanfics #yoongi fanfics #hoseok fanfics #namjoon fanfics #jimin fanfics #taehyung fanfics #jungkook fanfics

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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 1 year ago

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Day 10: Cuckolding | I Love You Hoe

Pairing: cuck husband!Yoongi x fem!Reader x fuckboy!Jungkook

Genre: Smut

Words: 1.4k

🎃 Cock! 🎃

⇤Prev | Next ⇥

___________________

As your lover pressed his hips against yours, his breath fanning against your neck as his pace became frantic and quickened, desperate for climax as he held your frame tightly between his hands.

“More?” A hint of desperation in his voice. “Do you want it harder, Y/N?” You nodded, moans of pleasure escaping your lips as he pressed you against the sheets and fucked into you with all his might.

“Y-yes…” You let out a moan in reply. “You want me to fuck your pussy until it’s flooding with my cum?” He held the back of your neck with his hands. “Yes,” You groaned, your inner walls clamping on his pre-cum sheathed cock. “Please…” You spread your hole wider for him to access as he grinned down at you with a cocky smirk. “You’re ever so needy tonight,” He grunted, flipping you over so you could watch him as he made you unravel. “How’s it feel knowing your husband’s gonna fuck your filthy whore pussy that I filled with my cum earlier?” He asked, more rhetorically as he gripped your neck harder, but not so hard you couldn’t breathe. “I bet his cock can’t even reach that deep. I know I’m bigger so admit it already, he’s gonna just fill you up not even KNOWING his wife is getting busy with other men, and bigger cocks too.” He chuckled, continually fucking you at a faster pace. “J-Jungkook…” You moaned at his remarks.

“What is it? Want me to fill you up now so that when he fucks you my cum comes out of you?” He asked, while slowing down his pace and looking at you to answer him, eventually slowing down to a halt.

“W-why’d you stop? Jungkook! You can’t be serious,” You sighed. “Fine,” You huffed. “I find it appealing, especially when Yoongi fucks me thinking I haven’t had cock in so long. You know he can’t keep up with my sex drive.” You explained to him.

“Oh, so that’s your excuse.” Jungkook snapped his hips forward.

“O-OH!” You moaned, slowly moving your hips forward as he creamed you in a continued manner. Your lips parted in awe as some of his cum coated his cock, the substance looking milky and seemingly frothing as you moved your hips. The squelching sound that recurred was driving you mad. “Yes…yes…fuck me…harder!” Jungkook grinned and fulfilled your request, grabbing your hips as he watched you ride him desperately.

The door opened abruptly, you didn’t even hear him come in as Yoongi walked in, removing his tie.

“What the hell?!” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of it, just a little, but you were a greedy woman desperate to climax.

“Sorry man, she needed a good fuck. Not doubting your skills but what you have on your hands is a dick-hungry slut who needs sex every two hours. Her libido is as high as your IQ-which strangely enough didn’t even tick you off your wife may possibly have been cheating on you?” Jungkook didn’t bother pulling out of you, taking the opportunity to ruin your marriage even further.

“Not really,” Yoongi’s surprised expression was soothed. He looked unfazed even, now. “I love her. If you really needed a bigger dick, Y/N, you should’ve just told me.” Yoongi took a seat on the couch in the corner of your bedroom. You really needed to get rid of that. “H-huh?” You looked at your husband who removed his tie and simply gazed up at you and your lover as you were on the bed in the midst of getting fucked by this man.

“Continue as if I weren’t here.” Yoongi placed his arms on the armrests, as Jungkook seemingly went along with it.

“You wanted to get filled, slut? I’ll stuff ya alright.” Jungkook slammed his hips forward, with a few thrusts he pumped your pussy full of his beads of cum, semen stringing down your hole as it gushed out and the warmth hit your thighs. His cum was everywhere, and globular.

“T-thank you.” You sighed.

“Oh I’m not finished.” Jungkook smirked, grabbing your hips and lowering himself down as you lied down in exhaustion.

“YES!” You whined. “Mmmm, fuck me harder, Jungkook!” “Fucking whore, begging like this while your husband watches you,” Jungkook grinned while Yoongi continued blankly staring at the scene. His piercing brown gaze was on you the whole time. “Take my cock, bitch, that’s all you’re good for.” You let out a moan as Jungkook filled you up, all while you came, twitching.

“I’ve seen enough,” Yoongi stood up and walked towards you, his footsteps heavy and slow as he took his time and stared into your eyes. “I didn’t realize you liked being treated so roughly,” Yoongi sighed, adjusting his collar. “For cheating on me, I oughta be angry, hell even upset with you. But I don’t blame him-Jungkook was it? I mean, she has the perfect body for breeding, right?” He asked him shamelessly, shaking his hand as if he wasn’t buried in your pussy. Jungkook pulled out, more confused but also a hint of curiosity playing behind his eyes as he looked at your husband.

“Yeah. Her pussy grips down when she’s really feeling it.” Jungkook sounded like he was giving a product review. Your cheeks were turning red.

“I know. But you know what, that’s the woman I love. This slut wife of mine has my whole heart…I can’t be angry. However, I can punish her. She did just cheat on me.” Yoongi shrugged, looking down at your leaking holes.

“Oh yeah man, I feel that. I’d be so angry if my woman cheated on me.” Jungkook smirked, stirring the pot as much as he could.

“I could just…spit in her face.” Yoongi leaned down, close to your face as you breathed softly.

“Do it, Yoongi. Show this whore wife of yours how upset you are.” You egged him on. You deserved this.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Yoongi leaned back, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, what are you doing now, Mister husband?” Jungkook smirked, watching Yoongi with excitement.

“What’s your safe word?” When Yoongi, out of all the men on earth, asked you, you felt a dampness between your legs. It was ripe, and the scent was attracting Jungkook and Yoongi like flies to honey.

“Watermelon.” You whispered, feeling excited as your husband leaned down, and pinned your arms above your head.

“Don’t move.” Yoongi ordered. Jungkook folded his arms, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. Slowly, your husband spat on your face, a bit of saliva dribbling down your chin. You were a dirty cheater that deserved nothing but the worst.

“Damn. Kinky,” Jungkook smirked. “You should show me some moves later, Yoongi.” He added.

“Whore.” Yoongi pried your legs open, keeping your arms pinned above your head. “Slut.” He smacked your thighs before pulling you closer. He spat right in your clit and roughly pushed his fingers in. “Fuck! Yoongi!” You moaned. “You’re so wet already, disgusting. Filthy mongrel, you oughta be spayed.” He continued digging two of his fingers, his index and middle finger into your abused twat all while you were moaning for him. Jungkook was growing hard from watching this, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I’m filthy, baby. I’m a dumb animal.” You agreed, your brain seemingly shutting down with how roughly Yoongi fingered you.

“You're a damned slut,” He circled his fingers up, gripping your inner walls and brushing his thumb against your clit at the same time, as if he was pinching you. You let out a scream, it was beginning to feel good, all while turning you on and scaring you. “Enjoying your punishment?” Yoongi smirked. “Jungkook, get over here,” The younger man came up beside him. “Put your cock in her. And don’t go easy on her.” Jungkook raised a brow but complied, making you moan from the sudden change in pressure. Yoongi was brushing his fingers across your clit, still.

“Let’s see if you can take two dicks at once, whore.” You gasped as Yoongi got under you, prepping your ass using lube before slipping his cock into you. While you were sandwiched between your husband and Jungkook, you focused on moving at the opposing pace, their grunts echoing with your soft mewls, before all three of you climaxed at once.

Your holes, abused as they were, throbbed, cock-hungry.

“Looks like you were right, Yoongi.” Jungkook smirked.

“Want some more, slut?” Yoongi agreed with Jungkook, before turning back to you. You could only smile up at your husband. He truly was the man you loved, unchanged even after you married.

“I love you, Yoongi.” You whispered hoarsely.

“Me too, whore,” He kissed you softly, before turning to Jungkook. “Thanks for seeing to it you got her pussy filled. I’ve been busy too many nights lately.” Yoongi rubbed his brows in exhaustion.

“My pleasure.” Jungkook replied.

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoonkook #jungkook x yoongi #jungkook x reader x yoongi #jungkook fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts fic #bts #suga #suga x reader #kinktober 2023

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youreiludida · 1 year ago

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Meu crush agroboy, by principedark98 ❕original youreiludida

Tema: divertido, caipira.

Inspire-se e faça dela uma capa melhor, não copie.

⏰env. 19:41 - 07/07/2023

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ddaeng-angmoh · 2 years ago

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Hey all-- I have a confession to make--

I reallly miss writing-- it was the only thing that kept my going through my depression (aside from God, the real homie got me lmaoo). From 14 till now, writing was what brought me peace and clarity. It was the only way I could express myself in a world that didn't understand me.

Now I'm 26, realised people disliked me cause I had adhd, and have since had a 2 year drought of writing. It's been rough being away from my love, and watching my critical thinking and recall disappear through my fingertips.

This year I want to write again. My mental health has been up and up- so now I want to reclaim my passions.

I'm going to try and do a short prompt every few days to get back in the swing of things. Each one-shot will be based on a poem (from Nocturnal by Wilder) or verses from psalms (the book that both revealed and helped me with my depression.) I'm a BTS stan so you know 99% will be about the bois!

This year is a year of reclamation. It's time to look at who we were, how we've grown, and what we've lost. It's time to move past the suffering and take hold of the things that we lost along the way.

If anybody wants to join me, I'll be posting my prompts every wednesday and friday, and posting my responses every sunday. I might miss a few days, I might miss a month, but I want to renew my creative mind.

If you want to join and use the same prompt, I'd love to be mentioned! If you want to join and use your own? I'd love that too! I want to invite all my metaphysical tumblr homies to reclaim themselves, and their passions. Your responses don't have to be written either. If you want to respond with music, art, or even food, you should too ❤️

#creative #creative writing #mental health #mental wellbeing #fiction #passion #my prompts #prompt list #2023 goals #writing prompt #writers block #fanfiction writer #bts fic

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hamsterclaw · 1 year ago

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Bloom

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 2 - read the rest here.

In a post-nuclear war world, all you have is your son Jiwon. You'd do anything to keep him safe, including putting your trust in your new neighbour Kim Namjoon. You hope you haven't made the biggest mistake of your life.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Dystopian future AU, smut, single mother reader

Warnings: Sex, swearing, violence

Word count: 7.5k

With thanks to @vyduan for helping me work out the kinks (heh) in this story. Love you, Vy.

Author note: Written in response to an ask I got early in the year - a story I've kept chipping away at and now it's finally finished. Anon, I think about you often and I hope you and your kids are doing well. I hope you've had time to heal and no longer think of yourself as a heartbroken single mom, because you are and have always been more than that.

Your breath comes out in puffs of white as you carry an armful of logs to the furnace powering your greenhouse.

Inside, the air is humid, warm, perfect for the vegetables you’re carefully cultivating. Outside, the cold of a perennial winter’s seeped into your bones.

Nothing grows outside, not since the Great War.

You wonder why they call it ‘great’ when everything is worse now than it was before the war.

You’re emerging from the greenhouse, wiping your hands on a soiled rag, when you hear your new neighbour singing softly.

He’s got a melodious voice with a gorgeous husky tone. You smile to yourself as he sings a tune you know.

Suddenly he stops. ‘Oh shit!’

There’s a clatter of metal against worksurface, the unmistakeable sound of breakage.

You walk up to the wire fence and call out. ‘Need a hand?’

There’s another clatter, then the door to the greenhouse opens and you meet your new neighbour face to face for the first time.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, with a face that makes you wish you’d bothered to comb your hair before you stepped outside this morning.

‘I — uh— heard the noises and just thought I’d check if you were ok,’ you explain.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. ‘Do you have a spare pot? I’ll get you a replacement today, but right now my chilli plant is all over my worktable.’

‘Oh,’ you say, quickly turning. You enter your own greenhouse and emerge with one of your own pots.

‘Here,’ you say, holding it out to him. Your fingertips brush as he takes the pot from you, and you hope you don’t look too flustered.

You say, waving a hand, ‘Don’t worry about a replacement.’

‘My chillies and I thank you,’ he says, so solemnly you laugh.

He smiles warmly at you, and dimples appear in his cheeks.

The juxtaposition of his large frame and his delicately pretty dimples is doing something odd to your fickle heart.

You clear your throat. ‘I’m Y/N,’ you say, suddenly feeling shy.

‘Namjoon,’ he replies.

You turn as your son Jiwon approaches, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

You pull off your coat and wrap it around him.

‘Come on, let’s go inside before you get too cold, ok?’

Jiwon, wrapped in your coat, looks curiously at Namjoon.

‘This is my son, Jiwon. Jiwon, this is our new neighbour Namjoon,’ you say.

You put your arm around Jiwon and lead him back to the house.

‘It was nice to meet you,’ you call over your shoulder.

When you look back, Namjoon’s still standing by the fence, looking at you.

He waves, once, then turns to go back inside.

***

Jiwon regards you over the porridge bowl you’ve made for his breakfast.

His eyes are serious, too serious considering he’s barely eight.

You wish there was a way to protect him from the world.

Instead you make sure he eats, and drinks, and wears his warm coat, because the world may be fucked up but your son isn’t going to go without, not on your watch anyway.

You wonder where Jiwon’s father is now but can’t muster up any emotion about it. The burning desire to watch him suffer faded long ago, leaving nothing in its place.

A blank where your perfect life used to be.

You clear away the plates and pull on your coat.

‘Ready?’

You walk Jiwon to the single room, little more than a shed, where the makeshift school now is, and as you kiss him goodbye and promise him you’ll pick him up later, you wonder whether things will ever change.

It’s been five years since nuclear warfare destroyed the world, four since Jiwon’s father left, and you’re still waiting for life to get better.

Lost in your thoughts, you nearly bump into a uniformed guard.

You bow and apologise profusely.

You can’t see any of the guards’ faces, but you know they make liberal use of their steel batons.

The pain of a physical beating, though, would pale in comparison to being detained by the intention readers.

You could recover from a beating, but not from being thoughtwiped.

You shiver and resolve to be more careful as you walk the rest of the way to the community gardenhouse to start your work.

***

You glance at your watch and pick up the pace. You’re late to pick up Jiwon. There had been a raid at the gardenhouse just before you were due to leave, and you and the other gardeners had been searched for contraband.

You arrive at the schoolhouse just in time to see Jiwon being questioned by a guard.

Your heart stops, and you hurry forward, already apologising to the three guards standing over your son.

He’s slight, small for his age, and he looks even smaller surrounded by guards.

You step in front of Jiwon, putting your arm out to keep him behind you.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, bowing low.

The cold steel of a baton nudges under your chin, hard enough to lift your head.

Terror slices through you as the guard stares down at you, but you try your best to keep still.

The other guard says, ‘Hey, Jaebeom. The General wants us back. Let’s go.’

The baton stills, then the guard withdraws it and holsters it.

He turns away without another look at you.

You grasp Jiwon’s hand, and you don’t let go until you’re safely home.

***

The thin light of dawn’s cutting into the horizon when you emerge from your front door.

Snow’s been falling all night, is still falling now, piled up on your short garden path. You lift the shovel off the hook by your door and get to work clearing the path.

This early, the snow’s still icy and hard to shovel away.

You’re breathing hard by the time you get to the gate, arms aching, face damp with sweat.

Your neighbour Namjoon’s front gate swings open and he walks out, wrapped up warm.

He slows down when he sees you but doesn’t stop.��

You give a small smile which he returns before walking off.

You watch him go and wonder what he does to be leaving so early.

You see Jiwon’s light come on and hurry inside to make breakfast.

***

There’s blood in the snow when you arrive back home with Jiwon at the end of the day, drops of red splattered in a trail to your neighbour’s door.

You herd Jiwon safely inside and your conscience gets the better of you.

You walk next door and knock.

It’s a while before Namjoon answers, but as soon as he does you know you’ve done the right thing coming over.

He looks terrible, pale and wincing in pain. There’s a wound in his shoulder, his chest is bare.

You say, ‘let me help,’ and then he’s stepping back, sitting heavily down on a chair.

He’s so tall you barely have to lean down to look at his shoulder.

‘Can you stitch?’ he asks, voice tight, body taut.

‘I’ll patch you up,’ you tell him.

You worked in a field hospital during the War.

Namjoon grits his teeth, pale and tense, whilst you patch his wound.

By the time you’ve dressed it, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

You don’t like how pale he is.

‘I have to get back to Jiwon,’ you tell him.

He nods.

Something about the way he slumps back in his seat, quiet and exhausted, makes you say, ‘I can stay overnight to watch you, if you have a spare bed for Jiwon to sleep in?’

Namjoon stares at you for so long you make the decision for him.

‘Come on, let me get you to bed,’ you say.

He staggers as he stands, and automatically you slip an arm around his waist.

He leans heavily on you as you take him to his bedroom and help him onto the bed.

He lays down, eyes already closed.

You wait until his breathing eases and then you go to get Jiwon.

By the time you get back, Jiwon in tow, Namjoon’s dead asleep.

You make Jiwon comfortable in the adjoining room, hoping Namjoon won’t mind, and set your alarm to check on him periodically.

He sleeps most of the night, waking up once to stumble to the bathroom.

You get up to check on him. ‘Are you all right, Namjoon?’

Thankfully your presence doesn’t seem to alarm him.

‘I’m fine,’ he says, but you can see the sheen of sweat across his forehead.

You fetch a glass of water and some pain meds from his kitchen. He’s still awake when you knock on his door.

He gulps the water and swallows down the medicine gratefully and lays back.

There’s something about the irregular rhythm of his breathing that makes you offer your hand.

‘The meds will kick in soon,’ you promise him. You squeeze his hand gently.

He murmurs a thank you. When his breathing evens out and the grip of his hand eases, you pull the blanket over his chest and make your way back to the other room where Jiwon is.

It’s sometime just before dawn when you wake. Namjoon’s extra bedroom has a pretty view of his backyard, his greenhouse. The rolling hills in the distance are bare in the winter cold, starkly beautiful.

For the first time in a long time, you wonder where Jiwon’s father is, how he’s doing. If he ever thinks of Jiwon, or you. Beside you, Jiwon stirs.

‘Mama?’

‘Yes, baby?’

‘I’m not a baby,’ Jiwon says indignantly.

‘Ssssh, you’ll wake Namjoon up. Are you hungry?’

Jiwon yawns a little. People have always said he doesn’t look like you or his dad, but in moments like this you can see yourself in him.

‘Come on. Let’s go home and I’ll make breakfast, ok?’

You check on Namjoon as you pass his room, only to find he’s already dressed.

He stands when he sees you, and you’re reminded of the height difference between you.

You step back. ‘Sorry, I just wanted to make sure —‘

As though he’s aware of how his height and size intimidate you, he stops where he is.

‘I want to thank you for looking after me last night,’ he says. ‘Will you have breakfast with me?’

Jiwon marvels so openly at the sugary cereal Namjoon produces from a cupboard you can’t help but smile.

Single parenthood in a post nuclear war world has been challenging, and you’re scared about how many E numbers it’s taken to produce a cereal this unnaturally bright, but Jiwon’s so excited it’s worth it.

Namjoon offers you some, and you accept with a smile. He smiles back at you so warmly that you drop your eyes.

Even injured and tired, your neighbour is the kind of handsome man you don’t think would look twice at you normally.

You cover your skittishness by staring down into your cereal as if fascinated.

By the time you gather the courage to look up, Jiwon’s finished his food.

You’re about to get up to take him home when Namjoon puts out a hand to stop you. ‘Finish your breakfast,’ he says quietly.

He gets up. ‘Come on, Jiwon, I hurt my shoulder yesterday, can you help me in the greenhouse until your mum finishes her food?’

Jiwon falls into step beside Namjoon so naturally you have no qualms about letting them go together. There’s a funny lump in your throat as you watch them walking together through the kitchen window.

You tell yourself sternly to keep it together and not to assign a romantic narrative to your handsome neighbour who’s clearly just repaying your kindness from yesterday.

By the time Namjoon and Jiwon get back, you’ve finished your breakfast and washed up. The kitchen looks like you and Jiwon were never there.

‘Thank you,’ Namjoon says. ‘For looking after me yesterday.’

‘It was no bother at all,’ you tell him, sincerely. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’

You nod to his chest. ‘You should get the wound checked out at the clinic today.’

‘I will,’ Namjoon promises. He waves goodbye to Jiwon and you, standing on his doorstep until you’ve rounded the fence to your side.

***

You’re walking with Jiwon back from school when you realise there’s someone waiting at your door. You can’t see clearly in the evening light, and you tuck Jiwon closer into your side as you approach.

You call a greeting, and a moment later the person steps into the light and you realise it’s Namjoon.

‘Hi,’ you say, unable to hide your relief.

‘Hi,’ he replies, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just by the river and I passed a cart selling these and I thought Jiwon might like them.’

He holds out a paper wrapped bundle of bungeoppang, still warm despite the cold.

Jiwon’s reached out, already thanking him, and you look up at Namjoon.

‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you, they’re his favourite.’

‘There’s enough for both of you,’ Namjoon says.

He’s stepping away, halfway down your yard when he stops.

‘Your gate lock’s broken,’ he says. ‘I can help you fix it if you want.’

‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ you say hastily. The lock’s been broken for a while, you’d meant to fix it but it’s been a busy month at the communal greenhouse.

‘It’s not safe,’ he says gently. ‘Not with both of you in the house.’

His words, though gently spoken, send a flush of shame through you.

He must think you’re such a mess, incapable of even keeping yourself and your son safe.

He doesn’t give you time to answer. ‘I have tools. I’ll come over tomorrow and fix it, ok?’

‘Thank you,’ you say. There’s a quiver in your voice, you hope he doesn’t know you well enough to hear it.

You open your door and usher Jiwon in from the cold.

***

You’re clearing your garden path the next morning, shovelling snow, when Namjoon comes to fix the gate.

He nods politely at you, then gets to work. He doesn’t seem to want to chat, particularly, but that’s fine with you as you’re out of breath from clearing the path anyway.

Namjoon disappears briefly once the lock’s fixed, comes back with a bag of grit over his shoulder.

‘Let me grit your path,’ he offers, and you let him as he’s already brought the damn stuff over.

You invite him in as you prepare Jiwon’s breakfast.

He sits at your table, looking big in your small kitchen but not out of place.

There’s a picture on the wall of you and Jiwon’s father, from the Christmas that Jiwon turned two.

You can see him looking at it as you pass him a mug.

Namjoon asks, ‘Is that Jiwon’s father?’

You look at the photo. In it, you’re holding Jiwon up, and Hiro, Jiwon’s father, is laid on the floor, tickling his feet. There are the trappings of what Christmas was like before the war scattered all around you.

Luxuries that weren’t until everything else was taken away.

‘Yes,’ you say. You lean against the kitchen sink, hold up your own mug. ‘He left after the war.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He looks like he means it.

‘It’s ok,’ you tell him, honestly. ‘We’re doing ok, and Jiwon doesn’t remember much of him.’

There’s a moment of silence, then you hear Jiwon’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

He greets Namjoon with a total lack of surprise at seeing him at the breakfast table. You’re amused at the nonchalant way Jiwon greets Namjoon, and then you realise it might be because of Namjoon’s calm, gentle manner.

For all his size, you find it difficult to envision Namjoon ever hurting anyone or anything.

***

The guards come for you a few weeks later, late at night when Jiwon’s asleep. You’re putting away the washing up when there’s a knocking at the door.

Impatient, demanding.

You crack the door open only to have to step back quickly as the door is pushed inward, towards you.

The two guards who enter have epaulets on their shoulders signifying them as of a low rank.

Any rank can detain a civilian for thoughtwiping, though.

The chill in your spine is only partially environmental.

‘Are you the wife of Hiro Kwon?’

You keep your tone calm, steady. ‘We’re estranged. I haven’t seen him in years.’

‘We have reason to believe he stole a very important pre-war relic from General Dei.’

You know where this is going.

‘My son is sleeping upstairs, can I take him into the greenhouse whilst you search my house?’

The guard closest to you gives you a hard stare.

‘He has nightmares,’ you say, pleading.

You fetch Jiwon, get him dressed and take him outside whilst the guards search your house. He leans against you, quiet. You hate that events like this are a part of his life.

Next door, Namjoon’s light is on.

When the guards come out to tell you that you can re-enter your own house, you hear Namjoon’s door opening.

He walks up to the fence, and your heart stops.

He’s wearing full guard uniform, with epaulets that show he outranks the guards questioning you.

Sweet, gentle Namjoon from next door is a high-ranking official in the guard.

And you? You’re the biggest fool alive.

He’s looking at you and Jiwon, face impassive, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he takes you in.

Beside you, Jiwon’s shivering, and automatically, you slip your coat off to wrap around him.

You turn back to the guards. You’re still struggling with the weight of recent revelations but you need to get Jiwon back inside.

‘May we go?’

The guard stops you, drawing his baton, and you freeze.

‘He can go. We have more questions for you.’

You can’t look at Namjoon.

‘Of course. Let me take him up to bed and I’ll answer any questions you have.’

The walk back downstairs after you put Jiwon to bed feels like your feet are too heavy for your body.

You cast an eye at the mirror in your hallway. Your expression is a perfect blank, unreadable. You already know the lengths you’ll go to, to keep Jiwon safe.

The questions start innocently enough.

When did you last see your husband?

When did he last try to contact you?

You’re asked differently worded versions of the same questions repeatedly.

Your answers get shorter as the questioning goes on, and then the baton comes out even though you haven’t moved.

It raps on the table next to your hand, and you can’t help it, you startle badly at the sound.

There’s a knock at the door, then.

You look to the guards, and the younger one gets up to answer.

He returns with Namjoon.

Namjoon’s face is impassive. He gives you a once over, then nods to the two guards.

‘Leave us, I’ll handle this.’

The tension in the room ramps up as the guards leave, and by the time the door closes behind them, it’s taking all your strength to stay still.

Namjoon, as though sensing your turmoil, takes a step back, away from you.

His voice is low, quiet, but you have no difficulty hearing him.

‘Did they hurt you?’ he asks.

You look up at him, trying to read his expression. ‘No, they didn’t,’ you answer.

He lets out a breath that sounds relieved.

‘Have you heard from your husband?’ he asks.

‘I told you, we’re estranged,’ you reply.

You can hear Jiwon moving upstairs. You turn back to Namjoon.

‘Can I go to him? I’ll come back down, I just want to make sure he’s ok —-‘

Namjoon’s expression changes. He looks stunned.

‘Of course, I wouldn’t stop you.’

When you come back down Namjoon’s still standing where you left him.

‘It’s late, you should go to bed,’ he says. His eyes search yours.

You look back at him, at the epaulets adorning his broad shoulders.

He must have earned them somehow.

The thought makes you avert your eyes, set your chin.

‘I will,’ you say, neutral, cool.

Namjoon waits like he’s got more to say, but when you look up, he’s headed to your kitchen door, letting himself out.

You lock the door behind him and breathe out, fully, for the first time in hours.

***

You wake the next morning to sounds outside your window.

There’s a man in your garden, and you’d be alarmed if Jiwon didn’t have a similar profile.

It’s Hiro.

You open the back door and gesture him in.

He looks older, thinner, but he still has the spark in his eye that drew you to him. You’re surprised to find you don’t feel anything about his sudden appearance apart from the faintest pleasure of seeing someone who was once dear to you.

You moved on out of necessity, and there’s no going back.

‘The guards are looking for you,’ you say, once you’ve made him a drink.

‘I know,’ he says. ‘I need somewhere to stay. Do you have any money?’

‘Not much,’ you tell him. ‘I can spare some.’

Hiro touches your hand, on the table in between you, and you pull back, startled.

You get up, gather the banknotes you’ve saved, and give him what you can.

‘Can I see him?’ Hiro asks.

You don’t have it in your heart to say no. ‘Don’t wake him.’

You take him upstairs to Jiwon’s room, let him peer through the crack in the door.

When Hiro turns back to you, there are tears in his eyes.

You have nothing left to say.

***

The raid on the communal greenhouse today was unexpected, and you weren’t quite quick enough to get out of the way of a wayward baton strike.

Your wrist throbs dully, your fingers are swollen, and the painkillers you dry-swallowed are only just about taking the edge off.

You’ve sent Jiwon to bed and are trying to dislodge the sack of fertiliser from the top shelf of your greenhouse one-handed, panting at the effort, when Namjoon’s porch light comes on.

Startled, you lose your balance and fall off the crate you’re balancing on, just about managing to protect your wrist as you land.

The noise you’ve made draws Namjoon to the fence.

Thankfully, he’s not wearing his guard uniform.

When he sees you on the ground he disappears, appearing a moment later on your side of the fence, breathing hard from rushing over.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks, helping you up.

You’re about to answer when his face darkens. ‘What happened to your hand?’

Your hiss of pain when he reaches for you makes him flinch.

‘Here,’ he says.

He cups a hand under your elbow gently, helping you back into your kitchen.

He frowns even more when he sees how swollen your wrist is.

‘We need to get you to a clinic,’ he says.

‘I can’t leave Jiwon, I’ll go in the morning,’ you tell him.

‘You can’t leave this overnight,’ Namjoon insists.

He runs a hand over his face. ‘I’ll call my friend.’

‘I’m fine —‘

‘You aren’t,’ Namjoon says, the shortest he’s ever been with you. ‘I have a friend who’s a nurse, I’ll call him.’

You sit quietly in your kitchen as he makes the call.

‘Jimin will be here soon,’ he tells you when he returns.

You’re too on edge to ask about Jimin.

You want to tell him that you’re fine, but when you open your mouth, you say, ‘Hiro, my ex husband, came here yesterday asking for money.’

Namjoon considers this in silence.

‘If the guards find out —-‘

‘I’m sure as hell not going to tell them,’ Namjoon says, sharp. ‘And neither should you.’

‘You’re a guard,’ you point out.

‘And you told me because you know I’m not like them,’ Namjoon says. His voice is neutral, without inflection.

‘I told you because I don’t want you to get into trouble because of your association with me. Especially after they came looking for Hiro,’ you argue.

You get up. ‘And yes, because you aren’t like them.’

As soon as you say the words you realise they’re true.

On some level you know, from the sides of him he’s shown to you, that Namjoon isn’t like the guards you’ve seen.

Namjoon rubs his eyes. He looks tired.

‘My father was a commander in the first generation of guards,’ he tells you. There’s a note of bitterness in his voice. ‘That didn’t save me from being thoughtwiped.’

You stare at him in shock.

‘I have all the right decorations,’ Namjoon continues, gesturing to his shoulders.

He meets your gaze. ‘I can’t excuse the things I’ve done in the past to earn them. I was young, eager to please my father, eager to keep my mother safe, and there’s nothing safer than being a guard.’

There’s bitterness in his voice now.

‘I had my limit though, as warped as I was, and I protested against an order I was commanded to carry out.’ He pauses. ‘I couldn’t do it.’

‘Your past is a fog once you’ve been thoughtwiped, but it comes back slowly, in flashes. Like a puzzle that’s incomplete.’

You’re so caught up in Namjoon’s story you’ve forgotten about the pain in your wrist.

‘This isn’t about me but I told you this because I want you to trust me,’ Namjoon says. He touches your arm, gentle. ‘There’s no threat to you, from me.’

You believe him.

You’re about to say so when there’s a knock at your door.

Namjoon gets up and returns with a man with kind eyes who introduces himself as Jimin.

He tends to your wrist with a gentleness that almost brings you to tears, binding it and placing it in a brace that eases the pain a little.

‘It’s probably broken,’ Jimin tells you, ‘but this is the best I can do until you can get to the clinic.’

You thank him gratefully.

‘Namjoon says you have a son. If you bring him to my clinic I’ll do a health check for free,’ Jimin offers.

You can’t thank him enough for his kindness.

After he leaves, Namjoon says, ‘Do you have a spare room? Or I can sleep on the couch.’

You stare at him, overwhelmed. ‘I don’t have a spare room —-‘

‘The couch it is,’ Namjoon says.

‘You don’t have to —‘

‘You did it for me when I was injured,’ Namjoon points out. He dimples at you. ‘Don’t let me miss my chance to play nursemaid….’

You can’t imagine anyone who looks less like a nursemaid than your tall, broad, handsome neighbour.

‘You can take my bed,’ you offer.

There’s a beat of silence, and you realise how it must have sounded to him.

Oh no.

You splutter in your haste to explain. ‘Oh my god, I meant you can take my bed, for you, alone. I can take the couch.’

Namjoon looks like he’s holding back a smile.

‘I’ll take the couch,’ he says, very gently. ‘Now you should go to bed, you look very tired.’

You take yourself off to bed before your mouth betrays you again.

***

You wake to familiar scraping outside. You get up, hissing at the dull flare of pain in your injured wrist, and head for your bedroom window.

It’s Namjoon, clearing your garden path. He pauses to wipe a hand over his forehead, breath coming out in white puffs.

You pull on a robe and head down to the kitchen, open the back door.

‘Hey,’ you call.

He turns immediately, face creasing in concern. ‘How’s your wrist?’

‘Still broken,’ you say cheerfully.

A dimple flashes in his cheek.

‘Go sit down, I’ll finish this and make us breakfast.’

Despite Namjoon’s instructions, you start on breakfast anyway, you’re used to looking after you and Jiwon.

‘I’ll walk Jiwon to school so you can go straight to the clinic,’ Namjoon says.

You look at Jiwon.

Jiwon’s bright smile is all the answer you need.

***

You wake in the dead of night, heart thumping, blood rushing in your ears.

You’re up and out of bed before you’re fully awake, hand on Jiwon’s door, when you hear it again.

The same noise that woke you up.

The creak of your front gate.

You hear footsteps to your front door, then the knocking starts.

You wake Jiwon, wrap him in his coat, wishing you’d remembered your own.

‘Open the door, by the order of the guard,’ shouts a male voice, making you stumble in fear, making your adrenaline surge.

You glimpse the grandfather clock on your landing as you hurry through to the kitchen with Jiwon.

It’s 2am.

You doubt this is a routine interrogation.

It feels more like a raid.

You grab Jiwon’s face, make him look at you.

‘If we get separated, run through the gate and into Namjoon’s greenhouse. Don’t wait for me.’

Your voice is calm, your eyes serious, and Jiwon, with the wisdom of a much older child, nods.

You pull his coat closed, and take a breath, gathering your wits about you before you pull open the back door.

There’s no one there. The guards are still at the front of the house.

You hold Jiwon’s hand, tight, and step into the night.

***

You make it into Namjoon’s greenhouse just as your kitchen lights come on.

Your heart pounds like drums in your chest, insistent, so loud you’re worried anyone within a half mile could hear it.

You tuck Jiwon into a corner between sacks of fertiliser, stacked up, and listen intently.

There’s shouting, the sounds of doors slamming.

You hope it’s snowing hard enough to cover the tracks you and Jiwon made.

There’s nothing you can do about it now.

You wait, Jiwon tucked as far back as you could put him, hands gripping the shovel you grabbed from the back of the door.

Beams of light bounce over the glass wall, freezing you into position. You close your eyes.

The door creaks open, and you stop breathing.

Steps, then in your terror it takes you a while to recognise Namjoon’s face.

Your eyes meet.

Namjoon holds up a hand, the barest of movements, then he shouts, loud and clear, ‘They’re not in here.’

Your heart pumps, and you start to breathe again.

***

It’s hours before Namjoon returns to the greenhouse, face drawn and tired.

He says, ‘We need to go.’

‘Where?’ you ask, when you’re really thinking, ‘We?’

‘I’ll tell you on the way.’

Namjoon scoops Jiwon into his arms like he weighs nothing, and you follow.

Your limbs are stiff from the cold and the tension of waiting to be caught, but you make them bend to your will, keeping up with Namjoon’s longer strides.

‘I’ve got a car, a mile from here, can you walk?’ Namjoon asks, terse.

You notice the backpack he has slung onto his shoulders.

‘I can carry something,’ you say, ‘Give me the pack.’

Namjoon’s tense expression softens, just enough to be perceived, as he glances at you.

‘Keep pace with me,’ he says.

It takes you a quarter of an hour to reach the car, parked alongside a warehouse.

Namjoon places Jiwon in the backseat, tucks a blanket over him, unlocks the trunk to place the backpack inside.

You climb into the front passenger seat, watch as he starts the engine. His hand curls around the gear shaft, and you put your hand over his.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ you ask.

There’s no going back from this. It’s one thing to not report you to the Guard, it’s completely another to help you get away.

Namjoon looks at your hand on his for a moment.

‘I haven’t felt this strongly about anything in a while,’ he says.

He looks up at you. ‘This is the only right thing I’ve done in a long time.’

He puts his other hand on top of yours briefly, then pulls away to start the engine.

He drives.

***

Dawn’s breaking by the time you reach your destination, a cabin deep in the mountains that you access via a narrow road buffeted with snow drifts.

Namjoon cuts the engine, sits back, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks tired.

‘Are you ok?’ you ask, tentative.

‘Better now,’ he says, some of the tension leaving his expression. ‘Better now that we’re here.’

Jiwon’s stirring now that you’ve stopped, looking at you and Namjoon with a quiet resignation.

You hate that he’s grown to accept his world constantly being turned upside down as his due.

Namjoon turns back to look at him, a dimple popping in his cheek as he smiles.

‘Hey, are you hungry, Jiwon? I have some cereal in the cabin.’

Your heart teeters at Namjoon’s easy kindness towards your son, about to fall.

You’re about to fall for this man who you owe so much to, fool that you are.

You put your hand on Namjoon’s arm, eyes alight with gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ you tell him.

Namjoon glances at you, hesitates.

‘You don’t have to thank me,’ he tells you. ‘I — I wanted to help.’

You think about his words as you help Jiwon out of the car and you head for the cabin together.

***

Jiwon’s asleep, you make sure he’s tucked in warm before you go into the main part of the cabin.

Namjoon’s standing by the window, his large frame taking up almost all of it, face tilted up, like he’s looking at the sky.

He turns when he sees you.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ll get the generator working tomorrow.’

There’s a fire in the hearth, not quite enough to light up the whole cabin but it’s warm enough.

‘Don’t apologise,’ you tell him.

You can’t see all of his face in the shadows, so you step forward.

‘Jiwon and I wouldn’t be safe, here, if it weren’t for you.’

‘It was a woman and her son,’ he says, a change of subject so abrupt he’s lost you for a second before he continues.

‘They wanted me to thoughtwipe her because of something her son did. Something stupid, meaningless.’

He turns to look out the window again. ‘I refused.’

‘That’s when they thoughtwiped you,’ you say. It’s not a question.

He laughs, short, harsh. ‘And then they thoughtwiped her anyway. Last I heard she and her son were separated, sent to different sectors.’

You step forward again, wanting to see his face.

‘You’re a good man, Namjoon,’ you tell him. ‘You can’t be responsible for everything.’

‘I should have done more,’ he says, flat.

‘You’ve done a lot for us,’ you point out.

You still can’t see his face, but you can see the sadness in the line of his shoulders, poignant and beautiful.

You take another step forward, cup his cheek. His skin’s warm, and there’s the faintest pressure against your palm as he leans into your touch.

You shiver a little, more from the feel of him than from the cold, but he’s quick to react, slipping the fleece off his broad shoulders and placing it over yours.

For a moment his arms are around you, and you’re within a breath of turning away, would have turned away if you hadn’t felt the shift in his weight.

He’s leaning on you.

You curl your hand around his neck, and he leans down with the faintest pressure from your fingertips.

A thrill races through you as his lips brush yours, blooming into a pulse, heady and throbbing as you tilt your head to kiss him again.

He’s slow, so gentle it takes you a while to realise that his kisses are robbing you of your breath.

The tip of his tongue flicks at the seam of your lips, a question you answer by parting them.

Letting him in.

His hand travels down your side to land on your hip, tentative.

Another question.

This time you slide your arms around his waist, under his top. The warm skin of his back is smooth under your hands.

He grunts softly as you pull him closer, comes willingly.

He kisses you again, firmer this time, and you melt into him.

Gradually, in stages, closer and closer until you’re so close you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

He cups the back of your head, pulls away just enough to say, ‘The couch.’

You follow him to the couch, and he tilts his head for another kiss.

You put a hand flat on his chest to steady yourself, and he puts his own hand over yours, covering it completely, anchoring you to him.

‘I haven’t done this in a while,’ you tell him.

‘Me either,’ he says.

His dimple flashes. ‘We can remind each other.’

Namjoon’s a patient man, you knew this about him already.

You hadn’t expected him to be quite this patient though, not pushing you even though you can feel how hard he is under you.

‘Do you want to keep going?’ you ask.

‘So badly,’ he tells you, huffing out a breath, tilting his head back. His throat bobs as he swallows, hard.

You lick a stripe along his neck, and he shivers, gripping your shoulder.

‘Do it again,’ he says, voice dropped low. ‘Can I touch you?’

‘Please,’ you say, and to your delight, his hands drop to the front lapels of your (his) shirt.

‘You look good in my clothes,’ he murmurs. He kisses down your chest, slow, open-mouthed, and by the time he gets to your breasts you’re vibrating with need.

He takes the tip of your breast into his mouth, sucking delicately at first, then more strongly when you moan his name.

Every pull of his mouth makes you pulse and tighten, and you don’t realise you’re grinding against him until his big hand grips your hip.

‘Stop, or I’ll come,’ he warns, voice thick, gravelly now.

‘Take your clothes off,’ you say.

He undoes the fly of his jeans, and the damp patch you see where his cock’s tenting his boxer briefs makes your mouth water.

He stops you with your hands on your own sweatpants, says, ‘Let me.’

Before you realise quite what he’s doing, he’s slid onto his knees on the floor, has tugged your sweatpants down to reveal your thighs, the hot stickiness between your legs.

He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. Poises himself, open mouthed over your core.

Looks to you once, eyes hooded, and whatever he sees in your face makes him bend down and put his mouth to you.

You cry out, muffled behind your own hand, and he stops instantly.

‘Is this ok?’ he asks.

‘Yes, yes, please,’ you tell him.

He watches you as he slides his tongue over your slit, eyes hooded and hot.

He’s good with his tongue, you realise dimly in the back of your mind as he laps at you. He swallows audibly, and your hips dance under his mouth.

‘Joon,’ you moan, and he hums, deep voice vibrating against your skin.

‘Joon,’ you moan again. His hand splays on the curve of your hip, fingers tightening on your flesh.

This time, he moans in response, and you cry out, throaty and hoarse, as he sucks at your clit with renewed fervour, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

‘Joon!’

He pushes a finger into you, and you come with a gush of wet, walls tightening around him, your entire body tensing for a glorious instant before giving way to waves of pleasure.

Namjoon groans, deep in his chest, and you reach out and grip his hips, guiding him between your legs.

‘Wait,’ he says, touching your face, gentle though you can feel him hard as steel at your entrance, the blunt fullness of his cockhead nudging, seeking. ‘Are you sure you want this?’

‘Yes,’ you say, ‘yes.’

Namjoon groans again, pressing into you, filling you so well your body arches like a bow against his.

‘Feel so good,’ he utters, jaw tight, voice raspy.

He moves strongly within you, taking control with a confidence that thrills you to your toes.

He says your name as he moves, guttural and wanting, the slide of him into you making sparks bloom behind your eyelids.

He grasps your hand, fingers knitting with yours, as you writhe and moan underneath him.

‘Sound so pretty,’ Namjoon groans. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t —‘

You grip his shoulder. ‘I want you to come, Joon,’ you breathe, mouth by his ear.

He groans again then, circles his hips, and then thrusts deep, spilling his warmth inside you.

He’s still for a moment, breathing hard against your ear.

You turn your head to kiss him.

You’re still holding his hand, and it’s a while before either of you let go.

***

You pour out a mug of coffee from the pot Namjoon’s brewed, go out to where you can hear Namjoon chopping wood outside.

He’s concentrating, splitting chunks of wood with a careful precision.

He looks up as you approach, and his smile warms you.

‘Hey,’ he says.

You’d ended up sleeping tangled up with Namjoon. Some time during the night you’d woken to find him pushing your hair back from your face.

You’d pulled him down on top of you, taken him in again, slow, languid, bodies moving together until you’d gasped and come, muffled against his chest.

‘Hey,’ you reply.

‘Jiwon still asleep?’ he asks.

‘He’s exhausted,’ you say.

‘Glad we didn’t wake him,’ Namjoon says.

‘He’s a pretty good sleeper.’

Namjoon glances at you, and you flush.

‘I didn’t mean —’

He laughs at how flustered you are.

‘Good to know he sleeps well,’ Namjoon says. There’s a spark in his eyes now, dimples flashing in his cheeks.

For all his size and height and seriousness, your handsome neighbour looks like a little boy trying to get a rise out of you when he’s like this.

He watches, amusement in his face, as you sip the coffee to try to hide your discomfiture.

When you look back at him, he’s gathering up an armful of wood.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘When Jiwon wakes up I need to talk to both of you.’

***

The sun’s high in the gloomy sky by the time Jiwon wakes, lured by the smells of breakfast and the warmth of the fire in the fireplace.

After breakfast, Namjoon clears the table, and then sits you all down.

‘We can’t stay here for long,’ he says, seriously. ‘The guards don’t know about this place, but it’s not safe, and they’ll still be looking for you.’

‘There’s a place close to the border where there’s a new community, away from the guarded sectors.’

You’re looking at Namjoon, carefully, and he’s looking right back at you.

‘We could go there. It’ll be hard, probably, at the beginning.’

You turn to Jiwon.

Hard?

Harder than the life you have now?

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you need to find a better future, for Jiwon.

Stability.

You ask the question you asked in your head when you left home with Namjoon.

‘We?’

‘Yes,’ Namjoon says. ‘I’d like to go with you. If that’s ok.’

You’re looking at Jiwon again.

The hopeful expression on his face makes the decision for you.

***

Ten years later

You’re waiting at the train station for Jiwon.

There’s a chill in the air still, it’s cold for spring but warmer than it has been in recent years.

A lot’s changed in the last ten years.

You, Namjoon and Jiwon had moved to the new community at just the right time.

It had been hard at first, but nothing compared to the constant fear of being detained by the guards.

The world’s been rebuilding itself after the War.

With your experience as a communal gardener, you’d been able to set up your own hydroponic greenhouse, and demand built up for your produce, to the point where you’ve been able to hire your own crew of gardeners and expand.

Jiwon had thrived in the new community, and when universities re-opened, he’d been accepted as part of the first few cohorts of students.

His university was a few hours away, but the redevelopment of public transport meant there was a regular train linking his campus and your home.

The home you built with Namjoon.

In recent years, you’ve seen more and more of the light-hearted, humorous Namjoon and less of the troubled, serious Namjoon you first met.

Your love for him has only grown.

He approaches you now, a little older, but still as heartbreakingly handsome as the day you met him.

You think the best decision you ever made for you and Jiwon was to let him in.

And now Jiwon’s on his way back for Christmas, and your heart is full.

Namjoon hands you the coffee he bought you from the cafe, and when you tilt your face up to his he leans down.

It’s a learned response from years of adjusting his height so you can reach to kiss him.

You press a kiss onto his cheek, over his dimple, and his arm slides around you to hold you tight to him.

The train pulls into the station, and Namjoon grasps your hand as it stops.

The carriage doors open, and your beautiful son steps out.

Physically, he looks like you, but the confidence in his bearing, the kindness in his face, the roguish twinkle in his eyes?

That’s you, and Namjoon.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon fic #namjoon scenario #bangtan christmas 2023

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btsbabe7 · 2 years ago

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Happy New Year! ☺️🥂🍾🪩♥️

Thank you for all the support I’ve received on this blog over the years! It’s been rewarding to share work that I used to be nervous to share with anyone. Thank you for all the support on all the drafts that actually made it to this blog and received an abundance of love. This truly is the one safe space that I have and I really hope to put more content out this year.

My only goal this year is to put myself first—my feelings, my hobbies, my wants and needs. Too many times have I put the needs of others over my own and it has only cost me my sanity in the end. The truth is, those that genuinely care will find a way to show it, to reciprocate it, and those that don’t should be left behind.

I hope that this year we all find value in being our true selves, that we find and live in our own self worth and embrace it fully, no matter who accepts it or doesn’t. So, I’m sending nothing but good vibes for 2023 and beyond! ✨

-A ♥️

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 1 year ago

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Flames Of Love | PJM

Pairing: prince! Jimin x fem! concubine! Reader

Summary: A tragedy. A new reign. A cruel order given by the king. Prince Jimin was forced to leave his home in the palace while trying to save both his and your life. Yet you both ended up burning in the flames of your love. Wrong time. Wrong life. Right person and a story that crumbled to the ashes of destiny.

Warnings: fluff, angst, character death, poison, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, cruelty, royal au, historical au, fratricide, suicide, feelings of fear, frustration and anguish, harem, mentions of a contagious disease, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.1k words

~Prompt 4: Snuggling by a cozy fireplace

~Snowflakes divider by @samspenandsword

~Prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

A/N: This was inspired by historical facts during the Ottoman Empire as well as Romeo & Juliet, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Snow was falling from the dark skies, the winds were strong, breaking through the thick branches of the tall trees. You shivered, tightening your outer robe around you as if it would help chase the cold away.

You felt an even thicker robe fall onto your shoulders, you looked up only to spot Prince Jimin sitting down next to you.

"Wouldn't you be cold, Your Highness?"

He smiled softly at you, his arm going over your shoulders as he pressed you to his side.

"No, your love warms my heart, Queen of my heart."

You sighed, eyes trained on the improvised fireplace you both had made inside the cave you were hiding. The flames were reflected in your (e/c) eyes as you allowed yourself to get hypnotised by the burning fire.

Jimin bit his lower lip in worry, fighting a shiver that threatened to travel down his spine. He had been on the run for three months now, winter had started and he knew he had to leave the kingdom before the cold would get even more crude.

The young prince had lived a luxurious and care-free life but his peace crumbled down like a paper plane when his older brother ascended the throne. According to tradition, the king must murder his brothers to keep the order during his reign.

He was wanted in order to get killed.

And this situation only escalated when he selfishly took you to escape with him. You were one of his concubines in the harem yet he only wanted you. To him, you were a red rose in a garden of white daisies. Every woman in his harem was of an enchanting beauty yet you, to his eyes, were mesmerizingly beautiful. Inside and out.

If he hadn't taken you with him, you would be dead by now considering you were his woman and couldn't ever bed with any other man.

Times were difficult and life was cruel. Jimin left with you by his side for he couldn't fathom the thought of your death because of him. Of leaving you behind in the palace and causing your demise all because you had fallen in love with him.

If he were to die, he'd die with you. Though to society you were a mere concubine, to him you were his Queen. The woman who commanded his heart and thoughts. He loved you. Just as ardently as the flames that danced in front of him on that hectic winter night.

"Have you heard of Min Yoongi, Your Highness? They said he was arrested."

Your whispered words brought him out of his thoughts. He sighed, resting his chin over your head as he closed his eyes, in desperation or redemption he could no longer tell.

"I did, (y/n). We won't be able to escape in his boat next Monday."

A moment of silence passed by, only the sound of the flames cracking in front of you and the strong wind whistling outside could be heard alongside your beating heart for the man who held you so affectionately.

"Will the king kill him?"

Your voice made his heart shatter in millions of pieces. You sounded so scared, so broken. Lost. When he had once listened to your voice command, he had heard the melodious sound of your laugh and your soft whispers under the moonlight as you both rested under his silky sheets.

"I don't think so. Yoongi is a clever man, he knows what to do."

You nodded against Jimin's chest in silent agreement though your heart still ached for the soft yet stoic man who had been willing to help the prince and you escape without hesitation.

Jimin looked behind him, spotting the last reserve of wine in his possession. He had personally saved that one for when this moment would come, hoping with his entire being that he wouldn't need to use it.

His right hand reached for it with trembling fingers. His own heart clenched at the thought of what he was about to do. You snuggled deeper into his embrace and tears clouded his vision.

"Let's enjoy our last wine, mmh? Are you thirsty?"

You nodded at his question and he brought the bottle up to your lips, allowing you to drink as much as you pleased. When you were done, Jimin brought the bottle up to his lips, hesitating to drink from it. Yet his mind was made when you buried your head in his chest.

He drank the wine and dropped the bottle to the side, rolling on the dirty ground.

"Isn't it beautiful? The fire, I mean."

He chuckled softly, tears gathering in his eyes at what he had done. To you, to him, to you both. If he were to go to hell, he wouldn't mind it for he had already been in heaven when you were by his side.

"You are more beautiful, (y/n) of mine."

You looked up at him, your eyes met his in an intimate dance of emotions. He didn't know he was crying until your hand rested on his cheek, your thumb wiping the lonely tear that had left his eye.

"Don't cry, my prince. We'll find a way to leave this kingdom. We'll get married and live like we have always dreamt of."

He smiled through his tears, his eyes closed with the motion and you couldn't help but smile as well.

"We will, my beautiful (y/n). You'll be mine and I'll be yours."

In this lifetime or the next one, my love.

Your head rested once more against his chest, your hands around his waist as your eyes focused once more on the flickering flames.

"Can you sing to me, prince of my soul? That song I like."

Could he deny you in a moment like this? Never. He had never denied you anything you wanted, anything your heart desired was yours with just a word leaving your lips. And now, when you both were on the brink of death, chased down to die and burning with the flames of love from the heavens above, if you wanted him to sing, he'd sing until no voice would remain in his throat or the poison he just drank took his life first.

His soft voice resonated across the walls of the cave, you smiled with your eyes closed, feeling a tiredness seep into your bones. The melody you had heard plenty of times before sounded now like an angel whispering in your ear the secrets of the universe.

"I love you, Jimin."

You whispered and he was barely able to hear those words leave your lips. His arms tightened around you, feeling as you fell asleep next to him while snuggling together by a cosy fireplace. Your hands went limp on his lap as you succumbed to the tiredness that suddenly invaded your body.

You fell asleep in his arms, never to wake up again. Jimin let out a sob, holding your body impossibly close to him as tears left his eyes and ran down his cheeks like endless rivers of pain, of desperation and guilt.

"I love you too, my (y/n). Queen of my existence."

He laid you down on the thin blanket behind you both with him by your side, already feeling the effects of the poison taking control of his mind.

His eyes closed, inhaling the smell of your hair for the last time before his heart froze in time next to yours. The last beat of his heart was dedicated to you and the life you had dreamed together, hoping to meet in the next life in simplicity yet still with the flames of love burning like the sun.

The next morning, the sun illuminated the snow-covered paths. The light reflected over the white thickness that had fallen from the sky and the ground looked like it was covered in diamonds.

Kim Namjoon, Captain of the King's private army galloped through the forest, his soldiers behind him.

The man of noble origin had been tasked by the king himself to find his brother, kill the concubine he had escaped with and bring the prince to his presence.

Namjoon's heart ached at the thought of what fate was going to deliver to you and Jimin. All because he was born after the now king, all because you had fallen in love with him. All because the fire of your love didn't melt the ice of the cruel law that chained Jimin to live in fear for both his and your life.

Namjoon had been following Prince Jimin's steps since he escaped the palace yet he brought the young prince as much time as he could, hoping you and Jimin would get the chance to escape the kingdom.

However, the king was growing impatient and sent yet another Captain to look for his brother and the woman he had claimed for himself. This only put even more pressure over Captain Kim Namjoon who wanted to at least spare your life.

He had met you before, in one of Prince Jimin's parties he organised every season of the year. He could tell why the prince had fallen deeply in love with you. Viewing you as if you were his Queen and he were a mere peasant not worthy of even breathing near you.

"Captain! I see a small cave, maybe His Highness and Lady (y/n) hid there during last night's storm."

A younger soldier by the name of Jeon Jungkook and Namjoon's right hand spoke against the freezing breeze that cut through the dried branches of the tall trees.

Namjoon sighed when he spotted the cave, directing his black horse to walk in that direction without a word. Jungkook and the rest of his soldiers followed him with only the crunch sound under the horses hooves resonated over the quiet forest.

Nothing would have prepared Namjoon for what he saw once he entered the cave, Jungkook was by his side. Both men were speechless as they saw the frozen body of Prince Jimin embracing you, his concubine and lover in this lifetime.

"They are dead, aren't they?"

Asked the younger soldier. Namjoon took a deep breath, eyes landing on the burnt sticks of the fireplace that only a couple of hours ago were still alive.

He picked up the empty bottle of wine, the only container he saw laying around. Namjoon smelled it, only to retrieve the bottle from his nose the next second.

"Poison. I'd say they drank it last night. That fire was still alive earlier today."

A melancholy invaded the men's hearts, like claws of a demon that threatened to crush their hearts. Was this the consequence of time? Of love? Was death the only solution Jimin saw for you both?

"I don't think they suffered at the end. Maybe they chose to die in their own terms, by their own hand. Together until the end."

Namjoon let out a deep sigh after the soft words that left Jungkook's lips. The oldest one turned to look at his friend and subordinate, his eyes were serious with a sadness lingering in his dark orbs.

"Listen to me, Jungkook. You saw nothing here, you understand?"

The doe-eyed man nodded, jaw clenched as he gazed at the man he admired the most in this world.

"I understand, Captain Kim."

With that, both of them exited the cave with slow steps and heavy hearts. Namjoon stood in front of his soldiers as he said in a strong voice.

"This cave will be sealed. A really decayed body is inside and I suspect it was infected with some kind of unknown disease. In order to keep His Majesty's reign safe, no-one will ever enter this place again."

The men obeyed their Captain's orders, sealing the cave with heavy rocks, hiding the tragedy of love behind that wall of stones.

Namjoon made his horse turn around, his soldiers following behind him in respect and loyalty. Jungkook glanced at his friend and superior, reading the melancholy in the man's eyes as he rode ahead.

Namjoon questioned himself if what he did was right. He didn't have it in himself to separate Jimin from you when the decision of parting together was made. He'd respect that; the final desire to rest together until you both could meet in the next life.

He only hoped the flames of love would still burn within you, a concubine seen as the Queen of the prince's heart. An innocent love lost by cruel rules. A destiny fueled by death with only embers lasting as the proof of the flames of love between you and Jimin.

December/23/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

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bts-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

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Summer Madness/kinktober Masterlist

A collection of BTS fanfictions that I am marathon writing over the summer while I'm off work. A total of 33 works spanning different members. This is a long list including the blurbs, so they are all under the cut. All of them include a reader insert

Brotherly Betrayal - JK

You've been dating your high school best friend for three years now, pretty much since you left high school. Lately, though he hasn't been able to make it home from college to see you as often as you both might've liked... His brother, Jungkook, has decided this is completely unacceptable and wants to show you how his little brother should really be treating you. (Spanking, praise, degradation[once], overstimulation, Cheating)

2. Long Day - NJ x HS

After a long day at work, Hoseok isn't really up for the anniversary plans they had made, so they make a few adjustments

3. Is Three a Crowd? - NJ x SJ

Namjoon arrives late to an after-party and finds that the girl he is crushing on has started flirting with another member in his absence.

4. Bring Innocence to Sin - YG

You decide it's finally time for Yoongi and you to start a family but he isn't so certain

5. Pregnant Frustrations - NJ

Namjoon comes home to find his pregnant wife with a bit of a conundrum

6. Finding Solace in Uniform - HS

Hoseok has been struggling with adjusting to military life. Foreign soldier Y/N takes pity on the poor guy and tries to help him out.

7. Repercussions - HS x NJ

Y/N is fed up of not being the center of attention because Namjoon and Hoseok are busy. But can she handle it when bratting gets her EXACTLY what she asked for?

8. Tour Suprise - YG

You surprise your best friend, Yoongi, while he has a few days break on tour. The only issue is you didn't think to check if there was space for you at the hotel... looks like you're sharing a bed.

9. Tempting Tutelage - TH

When you begin to fall behind in one of your university courses, you enlist the help of your childhood friend, Kim Taehyung, to help you pass the semester.

10. Faux Beaux Retreat - NJ

11. Serendipitous PenPals - JK

12. Cold Companions - TH x JM

13. Beta Be Good Enough - SJ

Omega kim Seokjin is about to hit his heat, but his partner is a beta, not an alpha. She expresses her concerns but he will hear none of it, he thinks she is more than enough and now she needs to prove it

14. Tidal Temptation - NJ

15. Friendly Favours - JK

16. Sensual Synthetics - JM

17. Envious Revelations - YG

18. Jealous Regrets - NJ

19. Helping Hybrids - NJ

20. Snack Time - HS

21. World's Best Rapper - NJ x YG

22. Living Legend - NJ x JK

23. Suspicious Flirtations - YG

24. Seductive Revenge - SJ

25. Are You Jealous Baby? - NJ x JK

26. Just a Reminder - JK

27. Small Miscommunication - NJ

28. I Knew it! - SJ

29. Revealing Rivalries - NJ

30. Reminiscent Romance -TH

31. Call Me Daddy, and I'll Call You Tomorrow - NJ

32. Power Trip - SJ

33. Magnetic Meetings - SJ

#bts fic #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop fic #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #summer madness 2023

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yoonsnymph · 1 year ago

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4. Cute but Psycho 🌺

Spooky Scary 2023 Challenge

Prompt: 3. Cute but Psycho

Rating: Explicit / Mature Audiences

Relationship: Kim Seokjin / Kim Taehyung

Additional Tags: Some Plot, Top Kim Seokjin | Jin, Bottom Kim Taehyung | V, Explicit Sexual Content, Casual Sex, Stranger Sex, seokjin is kind of a bad guy, Mentions of Blood, Smoking, Mentions of crime, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ambiguous/Open Ending, spooky scary 2023, One Night Stands

Words: 1545 Chapters: 1/1

Ao3: 4. Cute but Psycho - yoonsnymph - 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS [Archive of Our Own]

                      ᯼᯼᯼                         

Taehyung pauses the movie to go look outside the window at the three police cars parked on the street, all three of them blaring their sirens. The sight isn't necessarily new, Taehyung lives in a rather prickly part of the city and the police is always being called for one reason or another, except this time it seems his apartment building is the one in trouble and the noise of the sirens is for sure loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood.

He shakes his head and closes the window, slightly muffling out the noise. The watch around his wrist tells him dinner is well past its time which is likely why his stomach grumbles.

On his way to the kitchen, Taehyung gets interrupted by a hard knock on the door. He rolls his eyes and goes to open, knowing exactly what he'll find. Four police officers stare at him, clearly running on adrenaline.

"Good night, sir, we got an alert in your building," One of the officers starts explaining, "It seems a dangerous individual attacked someone in the upper floor, we are sorry for the inconvenience but please lock your door and don't come out if someone else knocks."

Taehyung smiles at the man and steps back inside his apartment, "Yes, officer," he says, slowly closing the door as all four men stomp up then next fly of stairs to uselessly knock on another door.

He takes the door chain between his fingers with the full intention to do as he was told and lock the door, but before he can do that, he seems a man hanging in the stairwell, holding into the railings like monkey bars in a park, successfully sneaking past the oblivious officers as he falls onto the hallway outside Taehyung's apartment.

Everything happens so fast that Taehyung doesn't have time to react before the man moves past him, closing his door and pushing Taehyung against it with a hand pushed against his mouth.

"Hi, Doll," the man whispers too close to Taehyung's face, "I just need to stay here until those guys leave, I hope you understand," he speaks fast, pulling back enough for Taehyung to see the blood running down the sides of his face, "You don't mind, right?" He smiles, walking away into Taehyung's kitchen.

Taehyung stays frozen against the closed door, "You can't be here," he mumbles nervously, clearly not loud enough because the stranger in his kitchen doesn't react, "Hey, you can't be here," Taehyung repeats, louder, sprinting towards the kitchen and stopping with a gasp when the man takes three long steps towards him and crowds into his space.

"Says who?" he mutters, taking Taehyung's chin with his hand, "Come on, Doll, you're too pretty," he says, with a smile that sends chills all through Taehyung's body, "Don't be stupid too."

The man pushes his lips against Taehyung's closed mouth for a second before he starts laughing, "Do you mind?" he asks, taking a box of cigarettes out of his pocket. Taehyung shakes his head no.

Taehyung's stomach grumbles again, betraying him, and he swears under his breath. The man chuckles, blowing the smoke of his cigarette at the ceiling. They look at each other, "You have blood on your face," Taehyung says in an attempt to take the focus away from himself.

"Don't worry, baby, it's not mine," the man shrugs, staring holes into Taehyung's skull as his cigarette hangs from his plush lips.

The silence builds up heavy in the kitchen, the sirens keep resounding around the whole apartment and the blue and red lights from the outside are painting figures in the walls.

"I'll make you dinner."

It's not a question, he doesn't wait for Taehyung to say yes or to tell him where things are. Not that Taehyung could tell him if he wanted to, he feels like he doesn't even really remember where he's standing right now.

"What's your name?" Taehyung asks, minutes later, sitting on of his bar stools and staring at the man's wide back as he stirrs something on a pan.

The man turns to look at him and takes his cigarette between his fingers to take it away from his mouth, "Seokjin," he says. Taehyung wonders if he's lying.

"They're not leaving until they find you, you know," Taehyung points out boredly, feeling on edge but not really in danger, "It's not their first rodeo around here," he purses his lips, "They arrested three guys last week two buildings down from here."

Seokjin arches an eyebrow, his dark eyes look at Taehyung up and down, "And who's gonna tell them I'm here, Doll?" he asks, "You?"

Taehyung holds his breath, "Depends," he says honestly, "What did you do?"

He knows his morals are shaky at best, but Taehyung has lived through enough to know that not everything is black or white, sometimes things happen for a reason stronger than the lines of law, and he wants to give Seokjin the benefit of the doubt. He walks around the kitchen isle and glances at the pan on the stove.

"I got in a fight," Seokjin says huskily, blowing a cloud of smoke at the side of Taehyung's face.

Taehyung hums and takes a piece of meat from the pan, "Did you win?" he asks, chewing on the meat and making a job of swallowing it before turning his face to look at Seokjin who is now standing very close beside him.

Seokjin smirks, "Well, I'm here, am I not?"

"And the other guy?"

"Sitting at the right hand of the father," Seokjin takes a small step closer to Taehyung, "Isn't that how fights are supposed to go?"

"Why did you fight him?" Taehyung licks his lips before he has the chance to stop himself.

Seokjin shrugs, "He stole from me," he explains, pushing the butt of his cigarette to the inside of the sink before moving to crowd Taehyung against the counter, "What do you think?"

Taehyung catches the musky smell of Seokjin's aroma, mixed with smoke and sweat, "You have a face too pretty to go to prison," he mumbles, lifting a shaky hand to touch Seokjin's cheek.

Seokjin kisses like his life is in the line, with tooth and nail mixed into it. His tongue pushes into Taehyung's mouth like Seokjin hasn't have a drop of water in a decade and he just found a mountain in Taehyung. It's deliciously rough.

Taehyung tries to keep up, biting down on Seokjin's soft lips and pulling hard on his hair, eliciting a series of sounds from him that Taehyung wishes he could record to replay every night.

He reaches behind Seokjin to turn off the stove and guides them to his bedroom, knocking a few things on the way.

Once on the bed, Seokjin wastes no time trying to be romantic, he pulls Taehyung's clothes off and gets naked in record time. His body is just as pretty as his face, and there's a dangerous fire in his eyes.

"Do you know the traffic lights thing?" Seokjin asks breathlessly and Taehyung feels like all the air he was already trying to catch has been knocked out of his lungs. He nods, unable to answer with words, "Okay," Seokjin smirks, and leans down to bite a mark inside Taehyung's thigh.

By the time Seokjin is done prepping him, Taehyung has four fingers inside and if he wasn't scared of Seokjin's size when he was soft but still above average, he is a little frightened now that he can see him fully hard, having grown thicker and at least a quarter of an inch larger.

Taehyung thanks the universe and every deity that comes to mind that when Seokjin takes his fingers out and positions the tip of his dick against his rim, he goes slow. That is, until his dick is half way in, then Taehyung hears him chuckle and braces himself for the hard thrust that comes next.

He grasps the sheets of his bed as the pain hits his entire body at once, he arches his back off the bed out of instinct, squeezing his eyes shut, as if that will make his senses less overwhelmed. He holds his breath in until Seokjin stays still, settled snuggly inside him. Taehyung doesn't think he's ever felt fuller in his life.

His eyes water, and he notices Seokjin is staring at him, "I'm green," he grunts, "Don't be a good guy now, fuck me," he says, and immediately gets chocked up by a succession of hard thrusts from Seokjin's hips.

Seokjin moans into his ear and Taehyung reciprocates, louder with every movement Seokjin makes. His nails dig into the flesh of Seokjin shoulders when Seokjin bites his throat hard enough to make him think for a second that he's drawn blood.

It's a specially hard thrusts he feels at bottom of his belly and Seokjin's hand around his aching cock that makes him reach his orgasm crying out loud before he feels Seokjin's warmth spill inside him.

He doesn't know when he falls asleep or why he does so before making sure Seokjin is gone, but when he wakes up, the noise of the police cars is gone and the sun is shining bright behind his window.

— FIN —

#seokjin #taehyung #taejin #not sfw #bts fanfic #bts fic #seokjin x taehyung #writeblr #october writing challenge #spooky scary 2023 #writers on tumblr #writing challenge #sfw #future fic?

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