A One-of-a-Kind Wedding Dress Try-on (TaehyungXReader)
𐙚 exes-to-lovers au
Taehyung continued to fester in Y/N’s mind long after their breakup and even while she attempted to love her now fiancé, Junmyeon, however, she had never expected him to show up in all his unholy glory, with his black-shirt crumpled after a workaday, the top two buttons undone, chocolate curls dishevelled and splayed across his forehead: Taehyung was temptation itself and, he had a wedding dress on his arm, designed with the utmost intricacy for the bride-to-be; the only question was whether it would adorn her frame or be flung aside ….
please read: Kim Taehyung (BTS V) one-shot, exes-to-lovers, jealousy, fic!Taehyung has possessive and dominating tendencies, intense yearning, passionate romance, cheating (by Y/N on her fiancé), mentions of physical intimacy, Taehyungxfem!reader
word count: 2k
park jimin 🩰 (m)
Object of Curiosity (Park Jimin X Fem! Reader One-Shot)
★ dance teacher au
As ___ stumbles into Park Jimin's Dance Academy (after obsessively watching all of his social media videos) to break free from her mundane schedule, she can't help but feel that he has his eye on more than just her dance moves.
Please Read: Park Jimin BTS one shot, flirty dance teacher Jimin, shy and slightly awkward fem! character (insert any name of your choice in the blanks), smutty conclusion !mdni!(oral, fem! receiving), mutual crush, sensual tension and yearning, strangers-to-friends-to-fling-to-relationship
word count: 4.4k
jeon jungkook 🎁 (m)
The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas
dark fantasy au ୨୧
“I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?”
She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not.
As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.
ongoing
pt. 1 wish-list
pt. 2 get ya
pt. 3 cinnamon
pt. 4 seeing purple
pt. 5 the hearth, his chest
excerpt from pt 6
the teddy bear's lost innocence
Jungkook smut, mature
more pieces to come soon, please watch this space.💋
(i do not own any of the pictures and gifs)
Disclaimer
These are all works of fanfiction with fictional characters. These fanfictions have been written solely for entertainment. These do not bear any semblance to real life.
These are all works of fiction with all fictional characters.
you will always be the only form of love i have ever known: the epitome of romance, crimson roses, wintery landscapes, honey-eyed warmth, strawberry cakes and mellifluous jazz.
i would never be able to coherently able to convey what you mean to me: there is just too much for even me to comprehend.
i can't pride myself on being a word-weaver when it comes to you, you leave me tongue-tied.
your voice, your face, your eyes, your art: you are all that there is.
my affection for you overwhelms me.
my first love, and every other love thereafter.
may you always be happy.
생일 축하해요
[sorry i just feel so emo thinkin about how much i love taetae and always want to see him smile]🍓
the teddy bear's lost innocence
jeon jungkook x fem! reader one-shot (mature)
please read: jjk one-shot, mature content, mdni (18+)
warnings: established relationship, protective+ possessive + dominant bf lip-pierced jungkook, abstinence-induced yearning, concept of physical purity, angst, dirty-talk, writhing, grinding, sensual tension, craving, soft toy riding (?!), thigh-riding, oral (fem! receiving), fem oc's first time, protected lovemaking, panty sniffing (😭), male masturbation, description of physical intimacy, baby as an affectionate nickname, bratty fem! oc
- thirst and filth
-insert any name of your choice in the blanks
word count: 4.4K
masterlist
tonight, she wanted to put on a show, just for him.
Jungkook, can you pop this ribbon with your bicep?
🎀
"I need you, Jungkook."
"I am on my way then, wait up."
18+ mature content ahead
minors please do not interact!
“Jungkook, can you pop it with your bicep? I lent you my coquette ribbon charms for this very purpose," ___ said on the video-call, her voice trilled through Jungkook's room while she softly nibbled on her cotton candy.
Jungkook smiled fondly at the screen, "Yes, I can, love. I'll show it to you, but, in person. I want to see you getting all impressed and flustered."
___ shifts on her rosy satin bedsheets, her plaid skirt trudging upwards her thigh, showcasing an abundant amount of skin as she relocates her phone-stand on the bedside table with Jungkook’s sharp-eyed stare monitoring all of her movements, his eyelashes lowered in a thoughtful daze.
___ had sensed a peculiar hunger lately, one that seemed to burgeon into an all-consuming fire when Jungkook was around; she needed him, all of him. Each time that she observed the subtle flex of his tattooed forearms, his knuckles clenching and unclenching during his sweat-drenched workouts, his chest flaring when she conversed with an overly friendly man at the bar and his doe-eyes narrowing when holding her: she wanted to come undone at the mere sight of Jungkook.
“I have been missing you Jungkook, although I saw you, like the day before yesterday,” ___ sighed dreamily and tilted herself strategically towards the phone camera to exhibit a smidgen of her cleavage cupped by the ivory lacey bralette that she had slipped underneath her sleeveless, slightly deep-cut top.
“Of course, I am sort of unforgettable,” Jungkook said in a mock-cocky manner, running a hand through the growing grassland of his dark hazel curls in order to recover after his pupils had momentarily widened at the sudden spectacle of ___’s enticing chest, making the upper set of his teeth dig into his lips.
___ shuffled on her bed yet again, lurching herself upwards purposefully, pretending to look for something but it was only just an excuse for her to flash her lace-covered breasts for Jungkook, and in order to reposition herself comfortably amongst the ocean of cushions, she slyly spread her legs, her skirt now only concealing a marginal section of the lower half of her body, baring her inner thighs for Jungkook’s increasingly burning, fixed, and gaping gaze with his breath hitching a little and his monologue about the current artwork that he was engrossed in descended into an abrupt halt.
“You look extremely delicious right now. I know you are quite the temptress, as always, but I just cannot comprehend whether all of this is intended to make me feel things,” Jungkook shook his head, a fast-spreading heat awakening his body in more ways than one.
___ placed a heart-shaped candy on the tip of her impossibly pink tongue and looked at Jungkook pointedly through the screen of her phone, as if she was performing an erotic act of burlesque for an audience of one, of course, Jungkook would kill anyone who saw her in a such a gullible, barely-clothed state, but tonight, she wanted to put on a show, just for him.
"I need you, Jungkook."
"I am on my way then, wait up."
To put it lucidly, ___ planned to abstain from engaging in physical intimacy until she was married: this ideal was not forced upon her, neither was she made to feel guilty about her innermost desires; her approach to dating seemed to spring from her own set of beliefs, for she sought a sense of security first. Jungkook, having been with her for over a year, was well-aware of the character of the bond that she aimed to share with him and he was rather clear about what his girlfriend wanted: there were boundaries that he must respect and, being as attracted to ___ as he was, that type of restraint took a lot of self-constraint, the distance between ___’s and his skin often nearly exhausting him, but he valued her wishes above all else, even his own.
It was ___ whose resolve had now begun to crumble, being in Jungkook’s towering presence and being the centre of his tantalising attention made her want to throw away all her morals out of the nearest window. The way Jungkook would caress the rebellious strand of hair landing on her cheek, the manner in which he would straddle her on his lap when she would adorn a mini-dress, cooing at their size difference and placing his palms on either side of her thighs made ___ want to worship Jungkook whilst being down on her knees, still unsure whether he was a demon or a saint, but he was an entrancing force alright.
Jungkook walked into ___’s apartment, right into her clutching embrace which tightly wrapped itself around his broad shoulders as he leaned downwards and smiled into her hair, taking in her scent and immediately feeling like he was home.
“Hi there, baby,” Jungkook uttered, fondness honeying his voice.
___’s lips nipped at Jungkook’s neck as she stood on her tiptoes, her hands laced around his waist. The signature spicy, musky cologne belonging to Jungkook overspilled into her senses, dizzying her sense of self; all that she wanted to experience now was the expanse of Jeon Jungkook, both physical and spiritual; self-imposed chastity rules be darned.
“Jungkook, I was reflecting on my…purity vow today, and I am just thinking along the lines of changing it up a bit…It does not have much relevance to my current life. I drummed it up long ago during my good-girl era, on a whim, when I was much younger and of course, could not foresee a boyfriend like you. I am thinking of, letting it go,” ___ spoke timidly, burying her head into Jungkook’s chest, to escape his stare, which at times felt like a righteous scolding.
“You have kept your purity vow for so long. I would hate to become one of your regrets. I would despise it if you were to ever be trapped by self-hatred because of actions that I could have easily helped you avoid. I am in this relationship for you and I understand your terms. Are you, by any chance, feeling pressured and rushing yourself, for me, baby?” Jungkook enquired, brushing the fringes of her hair from her forehead that were curtaining her eyes, seeking answers as she continued to sway in his arms.
“All we ever do is kiss, Jungkook. Do you not want me like that?” ___ mumbled, slowly disentangling herself from Jungkook, and turning to face the wall, her words quivering with the weight of potential tears.
“If you knew a thing about my desire for you, there would not be even a speck of doubt in your mind,” Jungkook whispered lowly into her ears, tugging her forearms to spin her backwards into his chest.
“Then, why is this distance between us, Jungkook?”
“I don’t want you to take any drastic steps while your judgment is clouded," Jungkook was wiser than he could have ever envisaged himself being, his words betraying his own bodily cravings.
___ sniffled softly, shattering Jungkook’s heart into a million smithereens and stormed off into her bedroom, leaving him standing in the dark corridor all by himself. Jungkook hoped ___ would soon calm down and realise that his reluctance had nothing do with her physical appeal, but it had everything do with the virtue that she had safeguarded for so long; Jungkook hardly wanted to be the lecherous villain in her story.
...
Jungkook, with a heart-wrenching ache that twisted him inside out, while thinking about how he had made numerous teardrops fall from ___’s eyes for no apparent reason, had curled up on the couch outside her bedroom, and unbeknownst to him, a small wave of sleep had descended over him.
But, a sudden stream of sounds awoke Jungkook from his unplanned nap. The noises were being emitted from ___’s room.
A few gasps, sighs, and rather seductive murmurs of his own name: Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.
Jungkook speculatively peeked into her bedroom.
Even if Jungkook possessed all the dictionaries in the world, the sheer lewdness of wholly arousing scene splayed out before him would have rendered him shakenly speechless.
___ had seized an innocuous soft toy in her arms. It was the teddy bear that Jungkook had won for her as a prize from a claw-machine game at the mall during one of their very first dates, wherein the air between them was still swollen with the shyness of a newborn companionship, of unsaid words and covert glances: a memory that was the epitome of pure; but, according to the current happenings, it seemed that the teddy bear would become an emblem for a darker, more disguised desire of hers.
The way ___ was bestriding the teddy bear was anything but innocent.
The chocolate-hued soft toy was nearly the same height as ___ and was tilted against her bedroom wall while she had settled on its forelegs; ___’s head was thrown back as she used its paws to drag her torso backwards and forwards and rub herself on the teddy’s core, its soft yet firm form providing her a surface to generate friction from. ___’s eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth occasionally erupting with peals of Jungkook’s name, her skirt bunched up to expose her peach-tinted panties and her top was unbuttoned, revealing almost the entirety of her breasts as her bralette lay discarded near her bed; the puddle amidst her underwear was growing more prominent by the second.
“Baby!” Jungkook’s post-nap hoarse voice was coloured by disbelief, his mouth was arid and his eyes were owlishly wide.
“If you won’t touch me, Jungkook, then someone else will,” ___ muttered devilishly, momentarily stopping her grinding against the poor soft toy.
___’s words pierced Jungkook’s very soul, and set his heart alight; Jungkook could not even tolerate the mere thought of ___ belonging to someone else. As turned on as he was by the sight before him, the malice behind ___’s attitude towards him caused a stir in his mind; that sort of misbehaviour can only be fucked out, and she needed a deep-seated repair: a fixture of her bratty demeanour.
But, could she just have what she wanted so easily, by throwing a tantrum? She should learn a thing or two, Jungkook would make sure of it.
The visual of ___ smearing her dampened panties against the teddy bear with her supple hips rocking back and forth and her nipples sticking out unabashedly from her top while letting out the most pleasure-unleashing whimpers Jungkook had ever heard, was making his member thicken with ardour: he was now sporting a full hard-on which poked through the fabric of his pair of denims. He wanted more of her to touch and to taste. ___ was looking at him with her legs alluringly split open and a defiance swimming in her eyes which spurred him all the more on; did she need to be reminded of who was the one in control?
“Do you think about me touching you, when your thighs clamp shut like that and knead the teddy bear’s ears? Is that why you wanted me to win this?” Jungkook chuckled humourlessly, as he walked past the doorframe, into her bedroom.
Shellshocked, ___ peered at Jungkook, her eye-contact with him suddenly wavering as the past confidence and rebellion of her features collapsed and gave way to an expression of meek submission. Jungkook’s unexpected filth-laced dialogues unnerved her, for he had always been cautious about her purity-vow and kept his distance from potentially sensual topics. Unlike her, Jungkook’s gaze was absolutely unshaken by the colossal mass of indecent sentences that he had whispered just now. He was hungrily eyeing the imprint of her clammy pussy lips flattened against her flimsy panties with his tongue stroking his lip-piercing.
What had changed? Was she successful in her plan to rile him up? Or had he understood that she had changed her mind and accommodated her newfound erotic pining ? Would he touch her the way she wanted him to, now?
Jungkook, above all else, was a disciplinarian. He played by the rules. And now that the rules had changed, he wanted to be the one holding the rulebook.
If ___ had now decided that she wanted to experience physical pleasure, it would have to be on Jungkook's dictated terms, not hers.
“What did you name him again?” Jungkook asked, referring to the plushie nestled between her legs.
“Mr. Brown," ___ said sheepishly.
“How original,” Jungkook scoffed as stepped forward and yanked ___ off the teddy bear and secured the yelping girl in his arms, rigidly holding each of her shoulders on either side whilst looking deep into her eyes, and deeper into her soul.
Jungkook’s innards were blazing with a longing for the softness of ___’s bare skin; he was starving, and wanted to gobble her up, whole. Jungkook wanted to possess a chokehold on her imagination, and set limits to the physical ecstasy that she could feel; he wanted bodily pleasure to be something that only he could provide to her; the source should never be someone else, not even a measly teddy bear.
___ was laid down on the bed as if she were the most exquisite of breakable porcelain dolls. Jungkook clasped ___’s ankles, dragged her by her parted legs towards the wooden arch at the end of the bed and propped her feet over it. ___’s skirt was now a mere decorative draping; her arousal-soaked panties were on full-display for Jungkook’s heated gaze.
Jungkook, hunched over ___’s body, supported by his forearms, with the soft curls of his hair loitering on his forehead, slanted his frame to catch ___’s soft lips with his own. ___ released a small squeal into the kiss, filled with a sensual euphoria, now that she could sense the weight of Jungkook’s body over her own; this is what she had had dreams about, waking up with a wet patch cloistered amidst her legs; she wanted to be under Jungkook, forever, even, if that was possible. Jungkook’s kisses were rushed, his tongue lapping up at the inside of her mouth and her lips; he tasted like spearmint.
___ felt moisture gushing out of her core at Jungkook’s touch, and pressed her inner thighs together, flustered. Jungkook toyed with the buttons of her top, unclicking them one by one, baring the feast of her breasts, making Jungkook’s mouth water. Jungkook enclosed her boobs in his large palms, and tugged lightly at her nipples with his long fingers, an animalistic hiss leaving his throat at the sight of ___’s lips slightly parted with mewls, her cheeks already flushed, her eyelashes fluttering hazily, her wet panty glinting proudly at him and her tits spilling into his hands; Jungkook’s mushrooming erection was now contending with his jeans for more space.
“I wish I could show you, just how pretty you look right now,” Jungkook slurred, drunk on ___'s carnal side, which had been camflouged by her until today.
___ saw a sudden sharp flicker flit through Jungkook’s irises. Instantaneously, his fingertips began sketching an invisible line from her chest, rippled down her stomach, and crept down to the strings of her underwear. Jungkook nimbly lowered her panty down to her ankles, and then stripped it off her skin completely, leaving ___ only clad in her wrinkled mini-skirt whilst he was fully-clothed.
___ whined at the sudden exposure of her pussy as Jungkook salivated upon witnessing the puddles of bodily yearning trickling from her cunt in thick, white strands; the scent of her arousal was now the very air that Jungkook was breathing, having brought his nose closer to sniff her core. ___ let out a high-pitched whimper as she felt Jungkook’s bulbous nose graze the bud of her pussy, her hands flying upwards to cover her now reddening face. The lip-piercing ring sitting pretty on Jungkook’s lower lips was now in contact with ___’s most sensitive area, nearly already driving her over the edge; she could slightly sense a pinprick of the cold piece of metal, situated right above her cunt, along with Jungkook’s mischievous lips, of course.
Jungkook, opening his mouth sky-wide, swallowed ___’s mound in a gulp that made ___ let out a scream and tackle his head with her inner thighs, closing in on his head which was buried between her legs. He slurped on her sloshing pussy, flicking the bud with his adroit tongue and had one of his fingers teasingly massaging her entrance. ___’s piquant flavour was now spreading across Jungkook’s tastebuds like a wildfire and he found himself suddenly famished for more of this watery delicacy, speeding up his licks across her oozing slit. ___ was wet beyond belief and was breaking out in the lewdest of sounds: the kind Jungkook thought he wouldn’t hear anytime soon, not until he had married her anyway, but here he was, neck-deep in her pussy.
___ discerned the way her legs began to vibrate and how her breath got caught in a whirlwind; she could feel an orgasm threatening to swoosh its way out of her and onto Jungkook’s tongue and so could Jungkook himself: he was extremely in-tune with her body and its responses, he could see that she was going to come just as well. However, could he let her have it so effortlessly, without a single hitch? All the months of him storing away his pent-up physical frustration underneath his quiet demeanour and all the fatigue of hiding his erections from her during their cuddle-sessions finally propelled his need to seek a rightful revenge. After all, ___ had attempted to derive pleasure from someone else (a teddy bear, nonetheless), that was disloyalty in its rawest form, wasn’t it?
Bearing a sinister curve on his lips, Jungkook drew away from ___, licking his lips to gather all of her juices. ___ lay restless, her pleading eyes demanding an explanation and even more so, some relief from the fire that he had left raging within her veins. ___’s skirt was wildly ruffled, her hair scattered across the pillowcase, her lips plumped from their previous kiss and her core still glistening.
"Kook," ___ gasped out, in shambles from his touch.
“Do to me exactly what you did to Mr. Brown there. I envy him,” Jungkook commanded, addressing the plushie as if there was another dignified gentleman present in the room with them.
Jeon Jungkook, a man so jealous that he breathed life into an innocent teddy bear and depicted it like a malignant homewrecker.
___ didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, even the minutest of actions that required her to come in contact with Jungkook’s tanned and well-muscled physique had all of her attention, both body and soul. Perched on a chair facing the mirror, Jungkook suggestively patted his burly thighs, signalling ___ to come straddle him and ___ followed his directions as if she were in a trance, her legs swinging around Jungkook’s as her skirt-clad bare cunt encountered the midst of his denim-pair. Jungkook was gawking at her breasts, now frolicking right in his eyeline and he stiffened at the proximity of her creamy pussy; he wanted her right there, but lessons had to be taught before rewards could be procured.
Moaning unrestrained, ___ latched onto Jungkook’s shoulders and grinded her hips in seesawing motions whilst observing how Jungkook’s eyes were scrunched up and a groan was etched between his lips in an excruciating expression of his physical stimulation: he was turned on beyond belief. The crimson marks of Jungkook’s gigantic palms were carving their way onto the supple flesh of ___’s thighs, as if they were bearing a stamp of ownership, as he gripped during her heated rutting against his jeans.
“Look at yourself in the mirror, see how appetisingly eager you look, grinding and panting on me,” Jungkook grunted.
“I can’t look. I can’t. Oh, Jungkook! Please put me out of my misery,” whispered ___, pandering to his fantasy of her being a good girl, solely at his mercy- that was his cue. Jungkook clasped her waist with his giant hands and slid them downwards towards her legs, placing a kiss on her collarbone, his eyelashes hovering over her unclothed skin.
“My pretty doll” Jungkook growled before hooking his hands underneath the back of her knees and hoisting her upwards in his brawny arms, carrying her to the bed, yet again. ___’s skirt was crumpled, yet, it continued to entice Jungkook, who saw it as a replica of flower petals surrounding the precious bud: the leaking pearl of her cunt. Jungkook wanted more than just a taste.
___’s eyes bore a shade of an erotic glaze that shone through all of her sensual exasperation; it was the sort of essence that could bring any and every man to his knees. Jungkook was beyond overwhelmed by her sheer naked beauty. To be parted from her skin was to be acquainted with desolation; he profoundly wished that he could tie her up to his bed so that he could keep her under himself forever. The realisation that it would be only through Jungkook’s licks, flicks, and strokes that she would discover what it is like to have her very first orgasm that was induced by someone else, elated him; she was his to touch and to keep.
The box of condoms that Jungkook had expertly placed a well-timed order for, on a shopping app on his phone, had now arrived at his doorstep and was promptly tucked in the room by him like a sneaky little present while ___ peered at him quizzically.
Experimentally gliding a finger towards her constricted core, Jungkook internally tried to calm himself down, for it was going to be her very first time: a thought that made his mouth slobber. ___ gazed trustingly upwards at him, a stinging desperation swimming in her irises, sensing the afterthought of hesitance in his touch however, she did not want him to second-guess his actions: she wanted Jungkook to snap her into halves.
As Jungkook unadorned his jeans and his boxers, his massively engorged dick sprung out freely; after the careless disposal of his black t-shirt and the marvelous showcase of his showstopping abs, ___, with her eyes bulged and her pussy wetter, ___ did not know where to look; he was aware of the effect that he had on her, wearing nothing but a self-assured smirk.
Jungkook gathered a wad of ___’s pink-and-white skirt and utilised it to pull her closer, her legs parted and sprawled out sideways with Jungkook grabbing each of her ankles possessively and hiking her lower limbs over his shoulders; a surprised whine slipped from ___’s lips. Jungkook’s midnight eyes were taking in the sumptuous spectacle before him as if he had been starving for ages.
___’s thighs were trembling around Jungkook’s torso and her core was bedewed, all Jungkook knew that he wanted to be inside her until he could be a part of her very being. Jungkook’s frame sloped forward as he used his hands to bring her breasts closer to his mouth, like two chalices to drink from and guzzled each of them as ___ stuttered several variations of his name like a pathetic little plea.
An insanity engulfed Jungkook: a madness for ___ overcame him as he subtly lined himself with ___’s opening and teasingly encircled her entrance with his now condom-covered dick. Watching the ___ near-senseless expression on ___’s face made him plunge into her, bit by bit, and then all at once. ___ shrieked, a luscious pain overtaking her senses as she shook while Jungkook paced in and out of her flooded pussy. Jungkook lustfully looked on as her boobs bounced while his movements wreaked a havoc on ___, her lips overflowing with a flurry of moans.
With a few tears fleeing from her eyes, ___ grabbed a fistful of the bedsheet to survive the onslaught of pain and pleasure: Jungkook being the apt harbinger of both. ___ shoved a palm over her mouth in order to contain the vulgar sounds that she was letting out but, Jungkook was not having any of that, angrily swatting her hand away while punishingly attacking her with another sharp thrust, right into the sweet spot of her cunt. He drew himself nearer to her face and to her astonishment, licked away the teardrops trailing on her cheeks as he continued to caress her pussy with one of his hands.
___ began to lose her consciousness of time and space as Jungkook’s jolting motions grew speedier and his palms squeezed the flesh of the globes of her butt, the crest between his eyebrows furrowed with a focus she had never seen before, not even when he was gaming or working on his beloved sculptures. The brooding look, settled on Jungkook’s features as he heaved pleasurably each time that he rammed into her brought ___ a shattering orgasm which washed over her in waves as she shivered while her pussy clenched around Jungkook, making him groan around her tightness.
“I want you to come for me,” Jungkook was being generous; he had tortured her enough after all. His own physical undoing was sneaking up on him as he watched her come undone and felt as if he might burst.
___’s gorgeous naked figure had caught the glow of neon fairy lights in her room, the lilac-pink combination reflecting on her skin was making her look like an absolute angel, an angel that Jungkook had just devoured. Did that make him the devil? Jungkook did not have the answer as he spilled into the condom, huffing rigorously and reaching the nape of ___’s neck to bite it as she lay there, completely spent, a few whimpers indicating her satisfaction. Jungkook’s clammy body collapsed on hers, and she had no choice but to cuddle her oversized baby.
"Baby, let me borrow Mr. Brown, for some research, of course," Jungkook whispered into her hair as they slipped into a heavy post-lovemaking slumber.
As Jungkook pumped himself to the memory of ___ dragging her pussy across the fur of the teddy bear with a stolen panty of hers wrapped around his wrist and dangling near his nostrils, her seductive scent filled up his atmosphere, he found himself coming, once again dangerously thirsty for a sip of ___ as Mr. Brown watched him from a nearby cupboard like a defeated love-rival.
🧸
author's note: my dear yandere jk fic readers, if y'all are seeing this, i'll post part 6 soon.
♪'cause you know how i like it girl ♪
jk, homeboy's tryna see it in motion, in 3D lmao sorry i have only written smut twice until now idk if this is giving
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
thank you for reading!♡
the chickens seemed to dissipate into thin air, one by one.
was there a predator around, veiled by the swathes of wild-plum trees?
yoongi had long been watching you tend to your livestock on your farmland.
someday he would get to do to you more than just pluck every flower that you had touched and attempt to steal every single creature that you had fed with your delicate hands.
until then, he would just snap the chicken-necks and fry them into a spicy oblivion to soothe his damning heartache: the agony of being unable to touch you, to taste you.
author's note: drabble's supposed to be 100 words, though when i have more ideas, i might turn this into a full-fledged one-shot.
masterlist
hyung line yandere drabbles: namjoon (m) | seokjin | hoseok
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
her long, pretty fingers typed big words onto the screen.
she is an art critic.
she was devious in her review of namjoon’s work:
she deemed his paintings kitschy.
mature content ahead 18+ , minors please do not interact
namjoon wanted to fuck the sophistication out of her for once,
and see her as an unfurled ragdoll gasping on his bedsheets
and not at all as the polished façade of a woman the world knew her to be.
her name was engraved on namjoon’s psyche the moment he read her
long-winding pieces of critique in an art-journal.
rest assured, like a true-blue artist, namjoon was deft at using his fingers.
author's note: drabble's supposed to be 100 words, though when i have more ideas, i might turn this into a full-fledged one-shot.
namjoon's virgo ahh can't take no critcism.
namjoon, if you're seeing this, i am sorry.
masterlist
hyung line yandere drabbles: yoongi | seokjin | hoseok
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
she was not the model, hoseok was.
she was a mere lens, following him on a camera-cart.
why was hoseok so envious of the behind-the-scenes montages that starred her for ten seconds?
hoseok’s one profound desire in life was to arrest her in a photo-frame of his own:
have her be on the cover of a magazine that only he could skim through.
hoseok was too jealous to have her photos be in public circulation;
she could be a starlet, but only in his bedroom.
of course, afterhours, it was no one’s business what the model did to the photographer.
author's note: drabble's supposed to be 100 words, though when i have more ideas, i might turn this into a full-fledged one-shot.
masterlist
hyung line yandere drabbles: yoongi | seokjin | namjoon (m)
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
seokjin treasured the measuring-tape that he had utilised to measure your curves,
thus, he kept it aside, refusing to use it for other customers.
seokjin was perhaps your stylistic soulmate: an expert tailor who
knew exactly how to create the custom design you sought.
but, rage swallowed seokjin the day he saw a foreign item adorn
your body-frame: a gown he had never touched.
how dare it graze even an inch of your skin,
shaped by some other man?
was seokjin not a good enough designer anymore?
who was his competitor?
he would have to rip that dress into shreds.
author's note: drabble's supposed to be 100 words, though when i have more ideas, i might turn this into a full-fledged one-shot.
masterlist
hyung line yandere drabbles: yoongi | namjoon (m) | hoseok
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
excerpt from an upcoming part of the yandere dolls walks free at christmas
masterlist
Jungkook’s nose was engulfed by the scent of ___. No, he was not cuddled into her bosom like he achingly craved to, he was currently burrowing his way into the sweater that ___ had taken off in his room the night before, with his nostrils attempting to savour every speck of her flower-like fragrance. Yes, Jungkook may have pocketed a panty or two from her laundry hamper, but she was not going to find out, especially with the abundance of clothes and undergarments that she possessed; he had buried her frilly lingerie in the furthermost corners of the cupboard in the guestroom, hoping to relish the sweetness of her essence later, in the company of nothing but his thoughts.
Boundaries. The word lacerated Jungkook’s sentiments; he was not here to maintain a respectable distance from ___ but, she had asked for it, despite all the love for her that was brewing in his heart. How could he compel himself to not touch her, not to feel the rhythm of her heartbeat, not to skim over the beguiling sea of her skin with his fingertips? How could Jungkook separate himself from a part of his very being? She was his recurring dream, his fleshed-out fantasy, his dream-girl. He could not afford to be distant, not when the only thing that his instincts were telling him to do was to inch closer to her until there were no misunderstandings and unfamiliarity drifting between them; he wanted sheer intimacy with ___.
Jungkook was profoundly sickened by the mere thought of Seokjin being closer to ___ than he was; it eviscerated his insides to see her tap at her phone, prettily giggling at whatever imbecility that man was showcasing in a text message to her. Jungkook wanted to rip her away from everyone; no one deserved to be a mere bystander to the utter purity of ___; he loved her and cherished the virtuousness of her soul and deeply believed he was the only fitting partner for someone as angelic as her: there was a dainty halo wafting above her head, even though he was the only one who could see it.
He wanted to swallow her whole; not a single person in the world deserved even a glimpse of her.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt. 5
the hearth, his chest
(Jungkook X Reader Series)
basically, there's jungkook under her tree.
pt. 4 seeing purple ←
main masterlist
excerpt: she could not make a sound; the only thing that she was incisively aware of was Jungkook’s heat, cutting through every part of her being.
pt. 5: the hearth, his chest
"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?”
She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not.
As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.
pt.1 wishlist | pt. 2 get ya | pt. 3 cinnamon | pt. 4 seeing purple
main masterlist
genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au mini-series ୨୧
🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout January ✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)
warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist
+subtle reference to yoonmin
🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧
___ had slammed the door shut on Jungkook’s anger-ruffled face after freeing herself from his near-imprisoning grip and immediately sought refuge in her bed, vowing to be as far away from him as she could.
A few hours into her sleep, it seemed as if the irate snowstorm was seething through ___’s own living room. Her limbs felt frozen in place; no number of the hefty blankets, and woollen sweaters could shield her body from the astoundingly glacial atmosphere of own her home, which had now transitioned into a frosty mountaintop. ___ could feel the back of her shoulders ache from shivering consistently throughout the past two hours and her chattering teeth could now perhaps awaken her neighbours; she even lacked the strength to brew a cup of coffee to warm herself up. ___ almost worried about Jungkook in the next room before remembering that he possessed his own in-built heating system.
___ snugly draped herself in a shawl and opened her bedroom door, only to be greeted by a merciless gust of wind flooding the corridor. ___ grimaced from the impact of the wintry hostility; she wondered if she had mistakenly left the windows unclosed. The light in Jungkook’s room was still on; it was way past midnight, ___ could only wonder what he was up to.
___ inspected the entirety of the house to seek the possible passages of the frigid air that seemed to haunt her; she could not find a single culprit; why was it then, so cold? ___ decided that to layer up was the only way to get through the night; she would deal with the intricacies of the heating system in the morning.
As ___ trudged her way back to her room to clamber up back into her bed, she heard the quick shuffling of Jungkook’s feet. Jungkook was leaning against the doorframe, resting his hand on his outstretched arm and the fringe of his hair was sticking wetly to his forehead, slick with sweat; was he working out in the middle of the night? In stark contrast to his usual gentlemanly guise, he was now outrightly shirtless, the peaks of his nipples hardened by the temperature with his greyish sweatpants swung low on his hips. ___ gulped after being ambushed by Jungkook’s near-naked visual.
“My my, your cheeks seem to be blazed from the bitter cold! How many of those sweaters and jackets are you wearing? You look like a sleepwalking snowman; man, people at Santa Isle would have a field day if they saw you right now,” Jungkook guffawed.
“I am so so cold. I don’t- don’t know what’s wrong with the devices,” ___ gasped out between her shivers, her eyes crinkled and her mouth settled into a perplexed, involuntary pout.
“Yeah, no, of course you are. It is supposed to be the coldest day of the season today. But, a heating device? Is that what you need? All this, right here, at your disposal,” Jungkook smirked, gesturing to his sculpture-like torso, littered with a few specimens of body-art, here and there.
“Are-are you out of your mind?”
“Then, if you wish to be frozen by dawn, go ahead. Although, I would suggest you do not knock it until you try it. You do not have to snuggle with me. Just place your palm on my chest and see, it would make a huge difference,” Jungkook drew a faux look of innocence of his face.
“Darn you and your superhuman powers. But, just a finger, not any more than that,” ___ muttered under breath, to which Jungkook comically bowed.
___ placed a cautious finger on Jungkook’s bare chest; she instantaneously sensed the tip of her finger gather an oozing mass of warmth: it almost felt as if there were a hundred little chambers of warmth beneath her fingertip, though it did not warm her body completely yet. Jungkook joyously noted the look of wonder spreading through ___’s irises. ___ grew even more famished for warmth by this little taste-test and then, pasted the whole of her right palm against Jungkook’s chest as he bit his bottom lip, hovering over ___ with his eyes monitoring every single one of her body’s reactions.
“This is no way to be comfortable. Want to be really cozy? I can show you,” Jungkook whispered into her right ear with an intimacy that they had not previously shared; ___ looked up at him, still a bit shaky, and nodded.
Jungkook swerved ___'s body out of the doorway and into his designated room before she could even register the happenings. He hoisted ___ in his unclothed arms and laid with her in his freshly-made bed in the exact same position: him cradling her whilst peering at her fondly. ___’s eyes were widened but she was not outwardly complaining for even her modern heating system was no match for Jungkook’s chest which was a cackling fireplace in itself; despite ___’s ethical and rational inner voice screaming at her, ___ could not bring herself to be torn apart from the furnace of warmth that was Jungkook on a snowy night.
___ could sense her heartbeat quicken its pace owing to the closeness of Jungkook and the shared intensity in the silence of the moment; she knew he was watching her and both her mind and throat seemed to have fogged up, she could not make a sound; the only thing that she was incisively aware of was Jungkook’s heat, cutting through every part of her being.
“You are not cold anymore? Are you?” Jungkook enquired in a quiet voice as if someone could overhear them and ___ shook her head delicately.
“All these sweaters, you do not require them? Take them off, I am afraid I might overheat you up,” he chuckled softly.
___ disentangled herself from Jungkook for only a moment but it felt exceedingly agonising for both of them to part from each other; she peeled the extra woollen garments from her arms and tossed them into a chair nearby, her hair now sticking in every direction, making Jungkook crack into a smile as he brushed it behind her ears with a a fond expression. He scooped her up in his embrace once again and rocked her gently, humming an unfamiliar yet soothing tune into her hair as she tucked her chin into his shoulder blades.
The braless, bed-ready breasts of ___ were now cuddled against Jungkook and his naked, solid chest; her wafting flowery scent was almost sending him into a wild frenzy but he had to make ___ comfortable first before he could even imagine tending to his bodily desires.
Jungkook’s body heat had securely enveloped ___, who, a few minutes ago, was quivering her way to hysteria; come to think of it, despite being annoying, Jungkook had his perks, ___ pondered as her hand reached the mop of his black hair at its own discretion and began gently stroking it. ___ was now caressing a man she barely knew and leaning into him as if he were her most familiar, longest-known lover.
The truth was, not only had he fiddled with the settings of the heater, Jungkook had also concealed a portable cooling machine, utilised by him during his trips away from Santa Isle in summertime, within the clutter of the decorative presents from ___’s Christmas paraphernalia and set it at its highest functioning capacity, aimed towards her bedroom; no wonder she felt like she herself was going to transform into an icicle.
“Koo,” ___ languidly mumbled, almost half-asleep because of the onslaught of comfort ushered in by Jungkook’s powerful arms.
“Koo? Is that my new name?” Jungkook smiled into her hair, his consciousness now misty with her strawberry-vanilla scent.
“We are really going to have to figure something out. How is all this going to work out? You, me, this boyfriend thing. I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote the letter to Santa. Actually, I was not expecting a response,” ___ shook her head to keep herself awakened and upright, not wanting to be any more vulnerable than she already was, although their limbs were currently knotted together; she had only known him less than a day.
“I only know of you, ___” Jungkook sulked, pressing his lips into a wordless placidity.
“How so?”
“I am here to be your present. I have been driven to this side of the world only for you and to be with you. I want to know you better than anyone ever has. I have this desire to tend to your needs before you even know that you have them. I want to be the boyfriend that you wished for in your letter,” Jungkook sighed, dreamily looking at ___, the woman he had pined after for almost a year, luxuriating in his embrace now and the soft glow of the Christmas decorations was enlightening her face in a way that proved that she was surely the good-hearted, all-pure angel that he had suspected she was.
“Baby steps, Koo. We should get to know each other first,” ___ would never admit it to herself but, the icy barrier of insecurity and doubt that she had shrouded herself with, as a form of self-defence, was now beginning to thaw: maybe it was because of how safe and homely Jungkook was making her feel; surely, it must have been because of the innocence swirling in his doe eyes.
“I am more than willing…anything for your wishes to be fulfilled.”
“All that just so you can keep your title of being the best Santa Isle worker?” ___ teased.
“Just so I could be number one to you,” Jungkook carefully brushed her forehead with lips, awaiting any sort of resistance, but, to his much-welcomed surprise, ___ tilted her head in his direction in an obedient-kitten fashion.
“Um…I saw this curious little notification pop up on my phone a few hours ago…Since when do you have social media? Isn’t that just something that “our kind” does and yours just judges us whilst emitting copious amounts of heat,” ___ babbled, laughing into Jungkook’s shoulder, her voice sending vibrations into his entire being.
“Say what you will, but you can’t live without this heat. Also, yeah, I have a social media account now; I made it just to look you up and follow you. I want to see what you get up to, online,” Jungkook answered; he had created an account right after he observed ___ messaging Jin; he wanted to be in the know, that’s all.
“I accepted your request but you will be bored, I am sure. I am not all that interesting; I only post, like, four times a year and those too, are sometimes pictures of trees or cats or something,”
“I would always be interested in something that you have considered worthy of capturing and sharing,” Jungkook’s eyes glinted cheerfully.
“Tell me stories about where you are from,” ___ said, with a hint of sleepiness; Jungkook attentively noted the motion of her luscious-looking lips, seeming as they were dripping with dew, and oh, how he wanted a taste.
“I was born in Santa Isle…my family works there too; they belong to the gift-acquisition and packaging department while I am responsible for successful delivery. Us, residents of Santa Isle, are particularly skilled at combatting the cold, and bringing smiles. Very early on, from our childhoods, it is ingrained in our minds through our educational curriculums that we have to seek out opportunities to serve the people and be the messenger of all things good,” Jungkook articulated.
“So, are all the people there involved in Christmas-related endeavours?”
“Santa Isle professionals are actually active yearlong; we have observational reports to prepare for the annual Naughty and Nice lists, carry out projects associated with social justice, and contribute to programmes of poverty alleviation-basically bring happiness to people,” Jungkook’s tone was that of a quotidian humility.
“What would you have done to me, had I been on the Naughty list?”
“You don’t want to know,” Jungkook smirked suggestively.
Jungkook’s swelling bulge, pitched underneath his sweatpants was becoming uncomfortable to say the least; however, he could not cater to it, not when ___ was asleep, ever so soundly on his chest, her mouth musically letting out wisps of air, the neckline of her t-shirt splayed: providing him a sneak-peek of her alluring chest, a smidgen of her drool landing on his collarbones. Jungkook could not help but coo at her adorably gullible sleeping form, and for her, he could overlook any degree of discomfort, no matter how hard it was for him.
___'s existence was already enough to get him going; to him, she was a living-breathing wet dream.
___ awoke to the morning sunlight dancing in patterns on her eyelids; she sensed an unknown weight slinging around her shoulders. She opened her eyes to find Jungkook slithered around the entirety of her torso; she was encaged by his strong arms around her back and her waistline and it did not seem that he would let her go anytime soon. As ___ moved about, Jungkook’s features scrunched up in annoyance and his hold around her body tightened significantly; he huddled closer to her, nuzzling his nose in the nape of her neck.
“Jungkook, Jungkook…I have to get up,” ___ lightly patted him.
“What a delight to wake up next to you,” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, taking in the early-morning unhindered beauty of ___ and then, he offered ___ a lazy smile, unwillingly untwining himself from ___ for now.
“I have been thinking…No matter how cold it is, I believe that we should have some boundaries and some ground rules. This is not okay,” ___ spoke thoughtfully as she left Jungkook’s bed, and his face seemed to drop.
🧡
thank you for reading.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt. 4 Seeing Purple
(Jungkook X Reader Series)
basically, there's Jungkook under her tree.
"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?”
She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not.
As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.
pt.1 wishlist | pt. 2 get ya | pt. 3 cinnamon
main masterlist
genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au ୨୧
🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout January🎅🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)
warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist
🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧
The mild aftertaste of the apple strudel and the salted caramel tarts from Jin’s bakery now seemed bitter on her tongue.
“Jungkook. Why would you say that you are my boyfriend?”
“That is what you asked for, in your letter, and that’s exactly why I am here too.”
“It’s just… I met you today …. We barely know each other… The people in my life don’t comprehend-”
“Do you want that purple cauliflower to think that you are single? Is that what you want?” Jungkook broke into a sarcastic snicker with an exasperated look on his face.
“Jin, you mean? He is a longtime acquaintance. You are getting this all so twisted!”
“Jin,” Jungkook scoffed with a hint of mockery in his voice. “So, you are guys are not only on first-name basis, you also call him by his nickname. No wonder you were so hesitant to introduce me,” he spat.
___ and Jungkook had tussled with the same predicament throughout their cab-ride back to her residence; he kept circling around the same insane theory that he had somehow convinced himself of: ___ doesn’t want to be seen with him in public because she fancies Seokjin. The prospect of fresh snowfall loomed about as the pristine milk-tinted cityscape dotted with an assortment of red-and-green Christmas lights whizzed past their respective windows: the surroundings were glazed like a vanilla pastry dotted with maroon and emerald cherries, but, alas, Jungkook was not feeling at all Christmassy.
Jungkook’s chest was aflame with envy and mostly, with a sense of injustice: how could someone just sweep in and carry away the heart of his perfect other-half? In his eleven months of stalking/research, he could not discover the very fact that this Kim Seokjin even existed in ___’s universe; the man seemingly sprouted out of nowhere. Just how strong was their virtual connection? Did she stay up texting him or conversing with him on the phone? Jungkook was resentful of the familiarity and warmth amidst them, and achingly aware of the fact that he had a long way to before he could get to know her as intimately as him, and hopefully, even more.
“At least allow to let me get to know you before letting everyone else assume that you are fair game and theirs to flirt with,” Jungkook raged, his fists tightly knitted on each side of his body and his eyes narrowed into vexed slits, sharply looking ahead at ___ who was unlocking the apartment door, her face wincing from the visceral, near-illogical reaction Jungkook was having.
___ had soaked in a nighttime warm bath, hoping to conjure a sensible trajectory of all the events that had occurred throughout the day but, she could not. As she plunged into her much-adored armchair, placed by the bookshelf and began to scroll on her phone, she sensed the glowering presence of Jungkook thumping and huffing beside her.
“Is that a picture of Seokjin on your phone?” Jungkook questioned with a hint of disbelief tainting his voice.
“He sent me a message on this social media platform, that is why I tapped on his profile. I am not looking at his pictures,” ___ seemed to offer up a benign explanation for no reason at all.
“I am aware of the kind of social media activities that people on this side of the universe indulge in. I have never been tempted myself. Seokjin seems a little full of himself,” Jungkook grumbled with his chin protruding over ___’s shoulder as he continued to peep into her phone, unabashed.
“Well, I am not all that active either. I don’t even have a profile picture,” ___ pondered.
“What do these enlivened red hearts indicate?”
“Oh, it’s when you like a picture,” ___ explained.
“So, you liked Seokjin’s photograph? Oh my,” Jungkook rolled his eyes.
With his superhuman brawn, Jungkook spun the armchair to face him. Startled by the sudden motion, ___ firmly clutched the armrests, squeezing her eyes shut. Jungkook’s stare was barrelling towards her in heated waves; she could feel him sear his way into her very soul even while she was not looking at him. His teeth were gritted as a snarl stretched over his lips and his irises were blazing with a sort of repugnance towards Seokjin that was more devilish than purely psychotic.
“My girlfriend is not allowed to like anyone.”
___ felt a deluge of tears threatening to overspill from her eyelashes. There was a stranger claiming her every step of the way and even when she attempted to make her peace with it, he tightened his grasp around her throat, around her very freedom to breathe. She did not know how she could make a run for it or if she even should; for all she knew, Jungkook possessed powers and tracking abilities beyond her understanding. ___ stretched herself thin, trying to make friends with Jungkook, but he ended up showcasing his true self: a malignant present, that’s all he was. How could this be her Christmas gift from Santa?
The room suddenly felt so much colder.
___ realised her eyes were burgeoning with weariness: the delirium of the day was getting to her. Jungkook watched her slackly raise herself up from the armchair like a paper-doll as he hovered near her torso.
“Where am I sleeping tonight?” Jungkook asked with a smirk, having turned down the space heaters in the house as much as he could possibly have.
“The guest bedroom serves that exact purpose. Also, please let me know if there a way to send feedback to Santa or return my present. Can you please make your way back to Santa Isle as soon as the dawn breaks? Thanks,” ___ stated firmly, looking at Jungkook’s figure hunched menacingly in her direction like a poised predator, and walked towards the spare room to fix the bedsheets or dust off any cobwebs that might have escaped her notice during the Christmastime cleaning.
“What did you just say to me? You want to get rid of me, already?” Jungkook’s hand pounced at her wrist making her shriek as he jerked her into his chest.
On the other side of the house, her phone let out a festive little ding.
part. 5 the hearth, his chest →
💜
not jin calling himself a mouthwatering delicacy lmao
thank you for reading. 🌸
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt.3 Cinnamon
(Jungkook X Reader Series)
Basically, there's Jungkook under her Christmas Tree.
Pt. 3 : Cinnamon
part 1: wishlist
part 2: get ya
part 4: seeing purple
masterlist
"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not.
As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.
part 1: wishlist part 2: get ya part 4: seeing purple
masterlist
genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au ୨୧
🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout Dec+Jan. 🎅🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)
warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), soft yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist
-subtle references to yoonmin
🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧
Jungkook watched ___ step into the bathroom, clutching a cream-coloured towel, and gently closing the door behind herself, deciding that it was a warm bath that would calm her unsettled nerves.
He had been following ___ long enough to know the location of her residence, however, he had yet to explore the innards of her house.
What was she like when no one was watching? He could find out now.
Jungkook had memorised the routes and elements in her quotidian routine like the back of his hand: the copy of Normal People that she read on the commute, the old-fashioned little tea-shop where she met up with her friends on the weekends, the university wherein she was an assistant professor and a PhD. Candidate, the campus canteen where she ordered sandwiches with cold cuts and pineapple juice, and of course the men who eyed her, and looked at her twice if they happened to pass by her. Of course, the men, who stared at her in public spaces, attempted to force a conversation at parties, make unwelcome passes at her, check her out in a way that was the opposite of nonchalant: all this made Jungkook’s blood boil, even in the ice-cold milieu of Santa Isle.
Jungkook had to be the one to preserve ___’s goodness from the vile world around her, something that she was so innocently unaware of; she seemed to him like a textbook good-girl: a studious researcher, a sincere professor, and of course, she was someone who gave back to the society. Every time Jungkook thought about it, he would grow more convinced that the only apt partner for her was Jungkook himself.
The house was a patchwork of minimalist hues: beige and light brown, furnished with statement pieces of furniture. A stream of light filtered through the bedroom door left ajar, and Jungkook caught sight of the rumpled white sheets nearly spooling onto the floor: perhaps ___ was someone who was feisty even in her sleep, he smirked to himself.
Jungkook had fantasised about being in her bedroom much too often. The thought of her body being unclothed, slithery with soap and her intoxicating vanilla-scented bodywash just a mere feet away from him made Jungkook twitch in his trousers... and then he decided to distract himself by making her a cup of coffee, spiced with cinnamon, clove and nutmeg.
Clad in an oversized strapless lilac gown pooling around her feet, with the strands of her hair plastered on her bare shoulders, her nose reddened from the shock of a shower in wintertime, and her skin glistening with the glow of a thousand halos, ___ walked out of the bathroom to the aroma of coffee wafting through the apartment. Clearly Jungkook had found his way to and around the kitchen.
“Do I smell orange?” ___ enquired, puffing her nostrils.
Jungkook had turned up the heat at the apartment, considering that ___ might be more of a shivering mess after her bath. ___’s enigmatic doorstep boyfriend came into view. He had changed into a grey t-shirt which complimented his lean yet muscular frame and a pair of low-hanging grey woollen sweatpants; he was currently hunched over the kitchen countertop, a slew of spice-boxes scattered across the slab.
“Yes. Orange rind. I am making you a special version of Christmas Coffee,” Jungkook broke into a smile, with his tongue slipping over his lip-ring and his floofy jet-black fringe falling over his eyes.
“I have been allotted a list by my employer. In order to fulfil my boyfriend duties, I better start cracking at it, honestly there’s a lot and I have to report back in a month,” Jungkook mumbled as they sipped from their respective cups of coffee, side by side.
“What’s the first task on your list,” ___ asked, her eyes bearing a hint of amusement, still not accustomed to the absurdity of it all.
“Discovering and internalising your likes and dislikes, and having a know-how of your preferences in general.”
“Hmm. How should we begin? Plus, shouldn’t I get to know you too? This should not be a one-way street, as strange as this premise is, I mean….” a soft cloud of fog left her mouth, with her still-damp hair making her look like a mermaid.
“Do you want to go and grab a bite?” Jungkook could not wait to make her his.
___’s phone lit up with her best friend, Jimin’s texts. She had met Jimin at an academic seminar five years ago when he was majoring in economics, and she was occupied by her degree in literature, both in their final years of the course; the two hit it off instantaneously, finding themselves sharing everything from previous crushes, childhood anecdotes, professional ambitions, family drama and long-kept secrets with each other.
Jimin was both a confidante and a critic, and ___ could not ask for a better platonic soulmate. At the moment, Jimin’s senses were captured by a mysterious man that goes by the name of Yoongi, possibly another academic that Jimin met in passing at the campus, over the past month and Jimin could not keep himself from thinking, talking and fantasising about Yoongi. ___ was intrigued to say the least. Who was this man who had Park Jimin wrapped around his finger? Despite the fact that ___ was immune to his charms, ___ knew that Jimin could land any man that he so desired; she had seen him in action, crouched like a majestic panther, at various parties or the neon-lit corners of a nightclub; attractive people, of all genders, practically flocked towards him. Jimin is a magnet, but a selective one at that; he has a hard time finding someone who could catch his fancy for longer than a few days. But it seemed that Yoongi had achieved that without ever making any special efforts.
Jungkook was aware of ___’s friendship with Jimin; he hardly ever let her out of his sight after seeing her for the first time. He had seen Jimin’s blonde head bobbing as he laughed with her while they devoured several orders of French fries, mini-pizzas and milkshakes at a diner that they frequented, visiting nearly every other week.
Jimin was spared from Jungkook’s wrath, for he was a gay man and did not possess the lustful gaze that the other men bestow upon ___ and light Jungkook’s very being on fire. That does not mean that Jungkook hadn’t had a crazed expression on his face the very first moment that he had seen ___ and Jimin huddled together in a pet shop, cooing at kittens together. He researched every aspect of Park Jimin’s existence and traced the entirety of his public records and digital footprints to decode the patterns of his past romantic relationships, only to sigh in relief when he found out that the Park Jimin, the mythical playboy, that fans the flames of countless women’s love confessions and fantasies, did not, in fact, like women, but he certainly liked being liked; he took pride in it, so he would even entertain a girl or two for a while, before breaking the news to them. Jimin is Jimin, ___ would shrug.
"Ready?" Jungkook beamed at ___, wearing a caramel-hued long coat with a crisp white shirt underneath with a pair of dark-brown trousers, his boot-donning feet tapping away in an anticipatory excitement.
"I am going on a date to get to know my...boyfriend? That is so strange," ___ said to herself. She had chosen an olive-green woollen dress with a sophisticated body-lined cut and a sweetheart neckline, teamed with black-meshy stockings and a chequered raven-tinted coat.
Jungkook eyed ___ from top to bottom, not pardoning a single inch of her body and greedily swallowed her whole with his widened irises, nearly fixated on the dip of her cleavage. ___ realised that her body reacts to Jungkook more than she would care to admit; the rising heat on the apples of cheek was ample evidence.
“You are a beauty,” a good boyfriend should give out compliments, Jungkook thought and gave a shy, lopsided smile, his tongue perched over his lip-ring once again, his eyelashes fluttering downwards, making ___’s heart hum to a new beat altogether.
"I booked us a cab. We are going to try out the Christmas special tarts at that one bakery I like. It belongs to my friend, who is a chef. You would like it there, the place is picturesque especially this of the year," ___ rambled on, attempting to conceal the maddening blush that was creeping on the sides of her face yet again.
Jungkook held the cab-door open for ___, and helped her in whilst holding the ends of her coat, making sure that she was settled in comfortably before hopping in himself. Jungkook wondered who this chef friend of hers was, since he had not seen her visit him in the past ten months of his stalking, er, his observation. Perhaps, it is just someone that she keeps in touch with through calls and texts. He was curious and wanted to measure just how much of a threat he could pose to Jungkook as a romantic prospect for ___: that is the yardstick that Jungkook would utilise to size up all men from now onwards and he always needed to come out on top. Always.
The snow-laden winter twilight glittered with the warmth of twinkling Christmas lights glinting from every shop and every cul-de-sac at the marketplace; the town-centre bustled with carols and holiday songs; Jungkook felt tiny bursts of joy every step on the way, reminiscent of his time in Santa Isle and his heart fluttered at the childlike look of awe in ___’s eyes who was peering at all the decorations with her hands against the cab’s window like an inquisitive little kitten.
___’s hand was placed in between her and Jungkook and he grasped this opportunity to lightly graze over it with his palm, hoping she would not notice. However, the heat-inducing surface of his palm was a stark contrast to her ice-cold hands; she immediately turned towards him and he was just starting to retract his hand with a small sorry when she gave him a small smile and said she is tired of her hands always being deadly chilly. Jungkook did not need to be told twice; he cupped both of her hands between his large palms and drew a hot breath to blow it over her fingers from his puffy lips; he could be her very own space heater, he thought.
___ sensed it again: that faint, relaxed feeling of being warm, fuzzy and cosy enough to nuzzle into a blanket and segue into a restful slumber; this sensation was always catalysed by Jungkook’s proximity, she noticed.
The confectionery shop possessed a quaint façade, and the bakery in the back was enlarged into a pathway that led to spacious eatery, decked with floral-tablecloth-covered round-tables and old-style wooden chairs.
“Ah! To what do I owe this pleasure?,” a loud voice, coming from a mauve heap of hair propped on a tall, inverted triangle of a body-frame, pierced through the quiet hum of the evening.
“Seokjin! Merry Christmas,” ___ extended her arms in a half-hug around his shoulders.
“I think the last time I saw you was the previous year’s party…Missed me?”
“Yes, it's not quite Christmas without a visit to Jinnie’s and the tarts!” ___ grinned.
The purple-haired, broad-shouldered chef seemed to be ___’s acquaintance: someone that she was quite fond of but only saw occasionally, Jungkook made a mental note. Seokjin was someone whose physical appearance was appealing to the eyes, even Jungkook could tell that and his radar was at full-alert for intercepting any hint of a flirtatious dynamic between the duo.
“Speaking of the tarts… They are selling like, they are selling like hot-cakes,” Seokjin broke into a high-pitched laugh as ___ groaned at his poor attempt of a pun.
“I brought you a present,” ___ said, handing Seokjin a paper-bag: a piece of movement that Jungkook watched with intense scrutiny, trying to determine whether or not Seokjin would attempt to brush his hands against hers, which would in turn be a telltale sign of his attraction to ___ and thus, put Seokjin on Jungkook’s trouble list.
“And who is this? Introduce us,” Seokjin spoke, gesturing towards a poker-faced Jungkook lurking behind ___ like a malicious shadow.
“Yes, he is my …….”
“Boyfriend,” Jungkook uttered, his voice a determined baritone.
🧡
hi lovelies, i know i take my time with updates but i want to write y'all something nice. i think the latter parts of this fic would continue to drop throughout the next month so please check out my main masterlist for updates.
thank you for reading. 🌸
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt.2 Get Ya
(Jungkook X Reader Series)
Pt. 2 : Get Ya
part 1: wishlist
pt. 3 cinnamon
masterlist
"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not.
As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.
part 1: wishlist part 3: cinnamon
main masterlist
genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au ୨୧
🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout December 🎅🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)
warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist
🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧
___ stumbled backwards, stunned by the horrifying expression on Jungkook’s face: a product of her outburst declaring that he was certainly not her boyfriend. She was already unnerved by his unexplained presence in her house and was now unsure of what to make of his insistence on becoming her significant other; the situation itself was unfathomable, how could she ever explain to someone that a handsome young man was delivered to house and he stood underneath her Christmas tree like a good, obedient doll, waiting for her to wake up, only to look at her with an unmistakably dark countenance later when she told him that she could not be his girlfriend.
How could she belong to him? She did not even know him.
“I want you to take a look at the booklet accompanying my toybox. It would explain all of the questions that may now be floating around in your mind. I am neither a criminal nor a prankster; this is real, no matter how ridiculous it sounds to your ears now, I am your present from Santa,” Jungkook said in a stern tone, indicating that he was no longer going to indulge in bantering with her, desperately attempting to explain himself.
Inside a voluminous folder placed in the toybox, there were documents with his whole government name and identity papers that would assist him in navigating through the real world as ___’s partner, and even a photocopy of the letter in which ___ asked for a boyfriend for Christmas; so there it goes, the strange man in her living room was legitimate after all. ___ was not at all ready for Santa to respond to her wish so promptly.
___ still could not wrap her head around the fact that the beginning of her new courtship had been catalysed by a seemingly benign Letter to Santa custom.
“I don’t think anyone has ever resisted their present so determinedly, so unpleasant; I am the top Santa Isle worker, how could this be,” Jungkook huffed to himself, watching ___ go through the documents with an unreadable expression glued to her face.
"Where are you from, again?"
"Santa I-.... Wait, I detect sarcasm. I do do mention it way too much."
“So, I am just supposed to accept you as my boyfriend? I understand that you are here to carry out a task: it is a professional obligation for you but, I can’t just date someone I met like, ten minutes ago. I am still unsure of your origin. Are you even a human being? Why are you radiating such an ungodly amount of heat in the middle of a snow-swamped winter?” ___ wondered, thinking back to the moment when she almost let herself be cradled to sleep in his arms.
“This is…all just too much,” ___ closed her eyes, pressing her fingertips against her forehead. How could she possibly take in and process this information all at once?
The truth was, for Jungkook, it was more than just a professional duty… he had been monitoring ___’s activities since the very day that she stepped into Little Smiles, a shelter that caters to underprivileged children, and also a place that is on the Santa Isle’s workers radar who observe it year-round to ensure that they can deliver whatever the children need and more during the holidays. Around Valentine’s Day, that same year, ___ had walked into the children’s centre for the first time, carrying a bagful of snacks and a few boxes of stationery supply, unsure of what would be appropriate for her maiden visit. She actually invested her time and tried to remember the names of the kids who surrounded her with eager smiles on their faces while she played board-games with them: something which became a bimonthly ritual for her, and her heart would brim with tranquility whenever the children came pouring outwards from the gateway to greet her, hug her or show her their drawings. Jungkook had witnessed it all, from a safe distance of course.
Jungkook had noticed the sway in ___’s hips as she strolled towards her workplace or the children’s shelter, and how the floral sundress collated snugly around her evident curves, and most importantly, he had perceived the angelic-white goodness that shined out of her very being: the sort of purity he would like to possess. It was only fitting for a kind-hearted woman like her to belong to a Santa Isle worker, who was, of course, the bearer of all things pleasant and a bringer of joy, by definition. And most ardently, he wanted to shield her from anything else in the world that was not as good as her, and that was only possible if he could be by her chaste side, all the time. He was a self-styled guardian, and not a longtime stalker, mind you.
“So, you are like an elf?” ___ wondered out loud as Jungkook stared at her from across the room, filing all the papers back into the folder.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. But, I am certainly more fashionable," he chuckled, revealing a an innocuous bunny smile which made his eyes scrunch up at the sides, absolutely nothing like the man who had given ___ a thunderous glance a few moments ago.
As ___ stood in front of Jungkook in a flimsy tank-top, her nipples jaunty against the fabric, owing to the cold weather whilst wearing the most innocent of expressions on Christmas morning, he felt as if it was his wish-list that Santa Claus had taken care of. Of course, he had to compete with several of his colleagues in order to come out as the top worker and finally be able to choose which year-end Santa Isle project he wanted to work on, and then finally, he was assigned to be her boyfriend. Jungkook licked his lips, averting his eyes away from her invitingly pillowy-seeming chest and suggested that he could make her that cup of coffee that she had been craving for so long.
"But, I still do not comprehend how this boyfriend thing would work..."
"I happen to have a thorough list of things to do, angel."
♡
𓍼Man, Jungkook is serving cvnt in his id card pic.
and, if you can't already tell, THAT Vogue photoshoot JK has a chokehold on me.
(will update my main masterlist with newer parts as i write, thank you for reading 🎀)
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt. 1 Wishlist
(Jungkook X Reader Series)
Pt. 1 :Wishlist
"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?”
She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not.
As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.
pt.1 wishlist | pt. 2 get ya | pt. 3 cinnamon | pt. 4 seeing purple
pt. 5 the hearth, his chest
main masterlist
genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au ୨୧
🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout December 🎅🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)
warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist
🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧
Even though ___ was swamped with work, she could not ignore that the air was scented with festivity.
The final rendition of her non-fiction manuscript was due right after the holidays, and it was the promise of a publishing deal from a prestigious academic think-tank that propelled her to work throughout her Christmas break and only see her family and friends at dinner parties. Her book was framed as a commentary on contemporary socio-political subcultures and consisted of the findings from her research work which spanned over four years. Was she going to be the next Joan Didion? Or perhaps, a likeness of Susan Sontag? Who’s to say, but she surely liked fantasising along these lines.
As snow settled on the windowpanes of her house and Christmas pop songs drifted from her neighbour’s balcony, ___ made herself a cozy setup with multiple blankets, and continued typing away at her laptop, occasionally sipping from her reindeer-themed coffee mug. Ever the workaholic, ___ was going to spend Christmas Eve shut into her apartment, and obsessively read and reread her research proposal, check the index sheet associated with her project and the revise statistics that she had painstakingly put together. Despite her best efforts, she could not find a flaw. And yet, it was too early to call it a night, so she scrolled through her social media as a Hallmark movie calmly played on her flatscreen, tapping hearts on the array of photographs of her friends’ holiday nighttime rituals of eggnog-drinking, reels of their party tricks, exorbitant decorations and their recent vacations to Cabo, to Mallorca and other seemingly exotic destinations, ___ could not bring herself to envy her friends’ international getaways: she was just far too busy to break free from her routine.
___ knew she that wanted more from life than just grading papers as a teaching assistant while working on her PhD; there was a certain kind of solace that a classroom full of sulky nineteen-year-olds in an eight-thirty morning lecture was not going to grant her so she started volunteering at a children’s shelter earlier in the year and as days went by, they looked forward to her interacting with them, helping them with their homework, bringing them crayons, stickers, and at times takeaway junk food, which brought the kids joy and her, some much needed contentment. She had assisted the children in adorning their Christmas trees with candy canes, giant toffees, miniature bells, Santa Claus masks and faux snow-streaks and even joined in on the custom of writing a letter to Santa along with them; despite feeling a bit silly, and upon being assured that no one was going to read hers, she scribbled that she hoped to have a boyfriend and stuffed it hastily in the red-and-white striped, cartoonish post-box located in the party-room of the children’s home.
___’s apartment had been scrubbed clean with the utmost attention-to-detail and she had draped decorative red and green lights around the windowpanes. The Christmas tree standing tall in her living room, gleamed with trinkets like golden and silver baubles, clusters of ribbons, and large red bows; her favourite ornament was the decade-old mini-Edward Cullen figurine, a memento of her teenaged Twilight obsession, peeking from the canopy of the tree. She could be merry after all, despite everything on her to-do list. After a dinner of soup and butter-garlic sticks, __ drifted off to sleep nestled by her soft-pink quilt as Christmas carols wafted in the distance.
The morning of Christmas was bitingly cold, catalysed by fresh snowfall; ___ shuddered upon waking up, as she pulled a woollen cardigan over her torso and decided that a mug of spiced coffee ought to be the perfect to start to her holiday and headed towards the kitchen.
The sight of her Christmas tree brought ___’s feet to an abrupt halt as an involuntary gasp left her lips. A giant box awaited her in the living room. “Doll,” the label on it seemed to say simply. A man, around her own age, seemed to be enclosed within it, staring at her, with an uncanny, unblinking gaze, ___ wanted to shriek and scream; there was a peculiar present in her living room, and a man she had never seen before, tied up all pretty with ribbons, delivered inside a cardboard gift box nonetheless, but she could not bring herself to either move or scream; ___ felt as if she could be dreaming, given that there was a handsome yet creepy being standing beneath the golden star placed atop her Christmas tree. Who was he and why was he in a box? And who let him have such a graceful, neat entrance into her house?
“What?” ___ finally managed to squeak out.
“It is your delivery from Santa Isle… I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” The man inside the box spoke up at last, sensing her disbelief.
“I did not order anything… Wait, wait, how did you get in?”
“There is an elaborate process that is followed; the gift delivery services of Santa Isle possess absolute accuracy and we have our own undisclosable ways of reaching the destination, which in this case, was your residence. I am certain an order has been placed for a boyfriend; I am meant for you, otherwise I never would have been sent to this part of the world.” his way of speaking was extremely lucid though his voice was a low droll of molten honey.
___ racked her brain to recollect when could she have possibly filled a form for a present like this and thought about the possibility of an ethereal landscape called Santa Isle, and the way this doll-box was magically inserted under her Christmas tree. She soon began to question her sanity.
“Not everyone is privileged to receive exactly what they have mentioned on the form… There are mechanisms through which we monitor’s the applicants’ good deeds, and you, have been awarded the top spot in your province; I have skimmed your file, it said that you have dedicated this year to children’s welfare endeavours, thereby creating a rightful place for yourself on the Nice list and thus, deserving of anything that you wish for on Christmas.”
“You all are collecting my data without my knowledge?”
“Isn’t everyone?” he snickered; his face came into focus after her initial haze of perplexity....
The so-called doll was clad rather gentlemanly in an immaculate two-piece tuxedo; his wide doe-eyed gaze and arched eyebrows made him seem perpetually amused at something and his facial features, albeit innocent, wore the armour of a mature expression, like a baby cosplaying a warrior; her questions remained unanswered despite the fact that he was so sure of the legitimacy of his presence in a gift-box under her Christmas tree.
“I realise that you might be bewildered but you were the only applicant who requested a human relationship… you wrote down that you desired to have a boyfriend, a wish that would now be fulfilled by me, a Santa Isle worker; the other people at the children’s shelter had wished for video games, comic book-sets, and so on…” he attempted to explain, observing the confused scowl cemented on her face. It was Christmas after all, she should not be frowning.
“Are you implying that the post-box at the children’s shelter named Little Smiles possesses a direct portal to Santa’s Isle? What are you even talking about… how is any of this real?”
“I can understand your disbelief but, there are many realms in this world that you might be unaware of. We have a radar that monitors needy children’s wish-lists and we leave them anonymous packages with the items that they have wished for around Christmas every year…Contrary to popular belief, there is a Santa and he is hard at work… you happened to insert your own list along with the children, and we here, at Santa Isle, fulfil each and every wish that we come across.”
“What do you mean? Is Santa your boss? I am having a hard time believing that I am not the centre of a prank-based reality television show…and even more shocked by your ability to get into the house…How did that happen? Another one of Santa’s miracles?”
“I am not a criminal, if that is what you are thinking. Could you please unbox me? That plate of cookies looks ever so delicious and I have been waiting for you to wake up since midnight so…”
___ stepped forward furtively, eyeing the doll-man, man-doll, overgrown doll? What was he, an adult toy? Wait that sounds wrong, ___ thought.
___ extended her hand to unfurl the pink ribbon garlanded around the giant, transparent toybox as he looked on with anticipatory eyes; as soon as the ribbon was undone, he began to step outside the box: turns out that the unboxing was a mere ceremonious activity, he could have been outside this whole time if he wanted to, but it was the recipient’s right to unwrap the present on Christmas morning.
“Jungkook Jeon.”
“Um?”
“My name is Jungkook and I am assigned to be your boyfriend. But there are some activities that have been listed on my agenda that have to be conducted with you before you can bestow that title on me,” Jungkook stated in the most placid of tones, as if he was there to carry out the simplest of tasks: doorstep boyfriend.
“What sort of activities are you insinuating? Listen I will ring up the apartment building’s security right now if you pull something funny, I swear I do not look like it but I am capable of kicking you back to --,” ___ rambled in an exasperated state, even more confused now.
“Activities like going to dinner and playing recreational games! Why are you suspecting me and threatening me with violence with each and every step that I take?” Jungkook’s voice was now raised a bit, flustered by this impossible customer, who was putting his reputation as the Santa Isle worker with the most golden stars (a token of appreciation) for his service-delivery, at risk.
___ scanned Jungkook from head to toe; he was glorious in his formal wear whilst she was yelling at him with a mismatched set of a tank top and floofy pyjamas on, secured by an ancient, lint-laden fraying cardigan: a clothing article that she only kept because of its sentimental value as it not did not do much to keep her warm, rendering her a quivering, blathering mess. Jungkook’s ocean-wide eyes were fastened on her being, watching out for further explosive reactions but he had worn her down, the girl just wanted her morning cup of coffee; she was tired of overanalysing the situation and questioning the existence of Santa Claus’ secret city. Or was it a factory? She will have to ask Jungkook.
Jungkook was not average-looking by any means; he was a doll, that was for certain, ___ she thought. The structure of his body was burly, his fairly large built was evident as he loomed several inches above her; ___ was surprised by his ability to fit into the box that now lay opened on the floor. His crisp white shirt clung to his well-formed biceps and broad shoulders, a contrast to the fabric cinched around his narrow, narrow waist. Nevertheless, this beautiful being was practically an alien for her.
“You are shivering,” Jungkook spread out his arms and drew ___ into his unexpected embrace.
“What are you doing?” ___’s twitching and thrashing was no match for Jungkook’s athletic arms.
“I would be a failure as a boyfriend if I let you shake like a leaf in the wind on my very first day here," Jungkook spoke with a gentle pout.
___ could feel Jungkook’s gaze cutting into her, as he enfolded her in the tightest hug he could possibly dole out. ___ discerned the rhythmic thrum of his heart with her back against his strong chest and her senses were clouded by his scent, which was a concoction of dark chocolate and musk, a combination that she found brought her an immense and indescribable oceanic calm, as if all her anxieties were rolling into the sea-waves and away into a sunset; all her defences against him seemed to momentarily collapse. He was humming a pop-duet which was currently deemed a chartbuster, and his way of singing made it sound like a tranquil lullaby; his enormous palms were running circles around ___’s nearly bare shoulders as her cardigan slipped from her frame. Jungkook bore the warmth of a fireplace, it seemed, ___ could no longer tell that it was even snowing outside.
___ was almost lulled to sleep, when she felt Jungkook lower his face and let his soft lips wander to nape of her neck: an action which broke the trance she was in and made her eyes snap open as she jerked her face away from Jungkook with indignance burning within her irises; this was inappropriate.
“How dare you? You are not my boyfriend!” she bellowed.
Jungkook was staggered by ___’s sudden shouting, and her denial of the very label which defines him at the moment: boyfriend, she was his, rightfully so; a pitch-black look overcame his otherwise innocent features, and the formal yet genial smile that he had been wearing till now also dissipated, leaving behind a cold stare which had now claimed ___ as its victim.
part 2: get ya
(will update my main masterlist with newer parts as i write,
thank you for reading
🎀)
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
Object of Curiosity (Park Jimin X Fem! Reader One-Shot)
Please Read: Park Jimin BTS one shot, flirty dance teacher Jimin, shy and slightly awkward fem! character (insert any name of your choice in the blanks), smutty conclusion (oral, fem! receiving), mutual crush, sensual tension and yearning, strangers-to-friends-to-fling-to-relationship
word count: 4.4k
masterlist
"No amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now."
Park Jimin is so charming that it is almost obscene.
The silver-hued tassels of a pair of long earrings twinkled on his shoulder as he swerved from side to side in front of the mirror with his eyes narrowed in concentration. Both the men and women in the studio watched, enraptured by his lithe movements.
Park Jimin’s Contemporary Dance Class started off in a somewhat shabby basement as a no-name establishment, however, it had grown into a formidable performing arts institution over the course of five years, certainly in a league of its own and it seemed to embrace and attract people from all walks of life.
Jimin’s rhythmic dance videos had become an internet sensation, broadcasting his delicate yet masterful moves to the world. In the practice videos, he seemed hypnotic, kneeling on an oakwood dance platform, performing the floor-work part of the routine or showcasing his command over body-rolls as a slew of layered necklaces clattered atop his collarbones.
On the subway back home, as ___ mindlessly scrolled through her explore feed, a reel, posted by a local dance academy, caught her attention, bringing her doom-scrolling to an abrupt halt. She did not want to lose the video in a sea of algorithm-pushed content so she saved it before watching it. And she watched it again. And yet again. The raven-haired man in the video, had her wrapped around his bejewelled finger, all in sixty seconds as she stopped herself from hitting replay yet again and explored the page that had posted the video, brimming with the novel temptation of more unwatched videos of that man’s graceful swaying: from stage performances to practice routines, these videos were watched late into the night as ___ pored over her laptop for a better, more focused view, especially that of his elusive abs. Park Jimin was his name.
___ decided to channel her obsession with Jimin into a hobby. Her nightly routine of binging Jimin’s dance videos could be more than just her eyeing him while munching on spicy potato crisps, spilling crumbs on the couch’s armrest. She ended up signing up for the weekend classes, the ones for lesser technical dancers, a euphemism for those amateurs who could not possibly fathom the mid-air flips that Jimin and his disciples perform with ease.
___ had been feeling a sense of mundanity, stemming from her quotidian routine of working at her job and then coming home to a soupy bowl of ramyeon, slurped alongside a loud sitcom blaring on the television, which is the sound that she fell asleep to on most nights; she goes on to perform the very same activities the next day, with a mind-numbingly boring accuracy. Perhaps a dance class could help her feel a spark. And the prospect of a handsome teacher certainly does strengthen her case: someone that she now had a full-blown crush on, albeit she had only met him virtually.
On an Autumn Saturday, the evening batch of dance students, comprising of about fifty individuals, a relatively smaller group from the other ones learning ballet and hip-hop, gathered before the majestic Park Jimin. So did Y/N.
“Fledglings!” Jimin clasped his hands together. “I understand that you are all just starting out! We shall begin by doing some stretches and jumping jacks to loosen up,” his feather-light voice splashed across the dance studio, like an oncoming oceanic wave as he looked at each and every participant of the class, attempting to register their unfamiliar faces. ___ felt that Jimin’s eyes sauntered their way over and across her body for a suspiciously long amount of time. Or she could have been mistaken. The curve of Jimin’s plush lips seemed to carry a bit of interest and inquisitiveness.
Clad in her black tank-top, ___ attempted to stretch as decently as she could while the hem of her barely-there clothing started to inch upwards her waistline, unveiling a smidgen of skin. Jimin surveyed the room, comically scolding anyone whose stretching was not fulfilling his standards. Y/N felt his warm presence situating itself behind herself as she continued her exercise.
“The bouncing, the shaking,” Jimin clicked his tongue, “this is not the apt time and place for that.”
___ was suddenly conscious of her body in the impossibly smallest of ways, the slightest sheen of sweat on her forearms, the way the strands of her unruly hair were scattered across her forehead and the unintentional quivering of her limbs, caused by her erratic, almost non-existent workout schedule. If only she had been more regular! She halted her stretching and sheepishly peered over shoulder at Jimin.
___ could feel her mouth dampen from the slightest eye contact with him. Jimin wore a playful half-smile, and he moved forward to place a hand on the small of her back to guide her movements, with his eyes showcasing amusement. ___ nearly shuddered at his touch: the cold metal of his ring was seeping through the waify fabric of her top. Jimin’s nimble fingers deftly clasped her wrists, now taking charge of her workout and, her sanity, too.
“You are too stiff. You need to gradually ease into it,” Jimin whispered into her ear, aligning his chest with her back, assisting her in stretching. Was a dance teacher supposed to be this touchy? Jimin’s breathing seemed surprisingly irregular, especially for someone who is a dancer and very much in control of these tendencies during performances; she could hear the hitches in his breath and the gasps that he was swallowing as her head was synced with his chest, while stretching upwards. ___ felt as if the warmup section of the class would exhaust all of her energy. It wasn’t the workout that was draining her: it was the red-hot proximity of Park Jimin that made her feel like she was under a constant gaze of burning scrutiny. Jimin’s subtle woody cologne swirled throughout her senses, creating an odd sensation of intoxication. All because the man was helping her stretch.
“Do you think you could reach the climax part on your own, or do you need me to hold your hand through this,” Jimin asked in a sing-song teasing voice, setting ___’s cheeks on fire.
Jimin’s memory pulsed with the close-ups of ____’s curves; since the moment she had stepped foot into his dance class, he had been …distracted to say the least. He did not want to be inappropriate by any means, he had of course maintained decorum, however, what he had developed was a symptom of an instant crush. ___’s deer-alert eyes as she attempted to follow along his dance-steps nearly pierced his heart because of how adorable they made her seem: she was a strange mixture of charm and clumsiness. Her nonchalant walk somehow captured his attention; she possessed an unmistakable air of purity and had the sort of unassuming beauty that Jimin deems to be as the archetype of the kind of woman he finds attractive.
As several weekends went by, Jimin found himself peculiarly obsessed with ___ and he started looking forward to the Saturday and Sunday classes, nearly waiting by the door like an expectant pet and being both relieved and exhilarated to see that she had not dropped out of his institute, despite the monstrosity that her dancing was. But that was his job, he was supposed to teach her to relax and to stop her body from being so hardened. If only he could stop being hard in places he shouldn’t be when he sees her. Sometimes it was her floral scent, sometimes it was her wide-eyed stare, her evident nervousness or her giggles at her own silliness: Jimin could not afford to peel his eyes off her.
Electric, it felt. Jimin sensed tiny eruptions throughout his veins if their hands grazed each other while dancing or when the ice broke between them and they conversed about the weather and politics, gradually familiarising themselves with the other, or when she stopped to sip from her bubble-pink metallic water bottle and the tiniest of drops raced from her strawberry-hued lips, down her swanlike neck, towards her ample cleavage: oh, how he envied that wicked drop of water!
While Jimin sassily snaps at students for showcasing lacklustre pirouettes in his ballet classes, he pardons the ungraceful stumbling of ____’s feet during steps that involve turning; what a gorgeous little klutz, Jimin laughed quietly to himself. The songs ___ had suggested made their way to his playlist: a string of songs that he played at midnight and believed that although ___’s dancing was questionable, her music taste certainly wasn’t something to be gawked at. After sharing music, they followed each other on social media, (initiated by Jimin, given his curiosity about her life) leading up to an innocuous exchange of humorous memes. Despite being an introvert, ___ had opened up to Jimin.
Jimin realised that he had been hawk-eyed in monitoring all her moves on the ‘gram, although she barely posted any pictures of herself: it was all pictures of annotated stacks of books, the horizon at sunrise and stray cats. Mysterious vibe, I like it, he thought.
___ had discovered that there was so much more to Jimin than his looks, albeit his looks alone brought a lot of the footfall to the dance classes. He was not a shallow person; there was a latent passion in his heart to change things for better, evidenced by his charitable educational projects for children in the vicinity, which he had spearheaded since the very year that his institute came into being. Jimin was also quite the conversationalist: he could be talking about the global political economy at one minute and expressing his thoughts on Sabrina Carpenter’s new album in the very next breath. ___ admired how his social butterfly self was the total opposite of her wallflower demeanour; he could slither his way into any discussion in the world, just about as smoothly as he moved.
mature content ahead: NSFW, description of physical intimacy
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Jimin drawled into her ears, his palms firmly planted on either side of her head, as he angled his face downwards to capture her expression with his ravenous eyes.
The studio was empty. The last batch of students had hurriedly scuttered away, given that it was a Saturday night. ___ stuck around just to watch him. Over the past six months, which seemed to fly by, their connection had deepened.
“I really don’t. I feel like I come off as clumsy,” ___ said, her cheeks flustered by the undivided attention that Jimin was bestowing upon her.
“You are,” he sniggered. “But there’s also something that calls out to me. The vocabulary of your body language is quite flirtatious, maybe you are unaware of it; it is the kind of subtle, repressed sexiness that pulls me in. It is innate. One cannot just put on that front and you have that… if I may say so,” After giving it a light nibble, Jimin left the ghost of his lips on the tip of her now reddened right ear and flashed an elusive smile her way.
“Well, I have a confession to make,” ___ choked out, somehow, befuddled by the intensity of Jimin’s nearness and her own wildly thrumming heart. Jimin expressed his interest with his eyebrows raised, his eyes still fixed on her form.
“I joined these classes because of my initial fascination with you, after seeing you on social media.”
“And? You are not fascinated by me anymore? Apologies for shattering your beautiful illusions,” Jimin broke into a teasing laugh, taking back a few steps.
“No! But that was, purely because of your outer beauty. I am trying to say that after getting to know you, there are many more reasons that I like keeping you company. Reasons that are not at all superficial.”
“So you like me,” Jimin said in a hushed voice, as if their clandestine meeting could be interrupted any moment by an intruder who may have been eavesdropping on them. Even though they were all by themselves in the studio; the ferocity of their solitude was just too much.
___ gazed at him, lulled by his presence, unable to do anything but take in the magnificence of Park Jimin who was now stretching his arms, looking like a nymph under a waterfall and heading dangerously close towards her very own self.
Jimin’s beautiful fingers reached out to caress ___’s cheek while reading the emotion encased behind her eyes. Anticipation? Love? Lust? Or all three of them? He was awfully eager to find out, so he dipped his head to the level of her height and delicately enveloped his lips with hers, as soft and sweet as he could be. ___ fervently kissed him back with Jimin snaking his hands around her waist, not even leaving an infinitesimal speck of distance between them. As Jimin stirred for a second in order to give her space and time to breathe, ___ released a groan of disapproval, resenting even a moment of separation from Jimin: a gesture that made him smile.
As he continued kissing downwards her neck, Jimin nudged her towards the couch, guiding her face-first, with an abundant amount of kissing of course. ___ nearly tripped over her feet as she landed on the couch with a squeak escaping her lips, making Jimin simper into the still unbroken kiss as he continued to hold her. Jimin’s fingertips lightly fluttered over the straps of her summer dress, as if seeking permission. ___ longingly stared at him from beneath her eyelashes, and coyly nodded.
The fabric of her dress was peeled off her skin by Jimin with the utmost care as he took it off her frame and flung it sideways. He took a few steps back, and with his eyes gleaming, Jimin looked at ___ from head to toe, as if she were an artwork showcased at a museum, much like the very first day that he had seen her.
“What?” ___ stuttered shyly shielding her almost-bare self with her arms from his wild eyes.
“Exquisite. The pink lace. Of course. Pretty like you.”
Jimin knelt on his knees on the oakwood floor, and deftly placed an open-mouthed kiss on her now exposed stomach, leaving behind a hot patch of wetness as his intrepid fingers began to fiddle with the hook of her rose-coloured bralette, undoing it in no time. Jimin’s eyes had now lost their earlier mischievous glint, they acquired a darker, more sensuous hue as he took in the mouthwatering sight before him.
The unrestrained galore of ___’s breasts made his breathing inconsistent and his mouth salivate… which was something that he put to good use; he plopped his watery mouth on her right nipple, making ___ gasp in surprise while his other hand fondled the left one (which would soon receive the same amount of affection as the other one), the pads of his fingers heatedly felt each and every inch of her skin. With wetness pooling between her thighs unchecked, ___ trembled from Jimin’s brazen devotion to her chest; she felt as if several jolts of electricity were running through her veins at once.
“The bedframe. I need to pull that out… from beneath the couch. Wait. We are going to need it,” Jimin huffed, momentarily stepping away from their rendezvous to make it more comfortable for them: he had one of those sofa-beds in his personal room at the studio… couches that transform into beds for the evenings that he may be too tired after dancing.
Jimin dragged ___ by her arms to the front of the bed and picked up exactly where he left of. He kissed her chest once again before placing his palms flat against her thighs, which felt warm and buttery soft. Jimin watched her face intently for a reaction when he began to circle ___’s inner thigh with his index finger, lingering dangerously close to her pretty pink panties with the light colour doing nothing to conceal the speckle of dampness smackdab in the centre, begging for Jimin to pay heed to it. ___ bit back her pathetic mewling which was about to spill from her lips.
___’s hands found their way to Jimin’s stylish suspenders, but they lacked the sophisticated restraint of Park Jimin; she was famished for some form of contact with his skin. She tugged at the back yoke of the suspenders’ braces in anguish, looking at Jimin’s clouded eyes; Jimin assisted her in snapping them off as they fell slackened around his waist, his eyes not leaving ___’s alluring bosom.
After painfully forsaking her unimaginably doughy thighs, Jimin’s elegant fingers flitted over the middle of her panties, feeling up their way over her sopping slit, making Jimin scrunch up his eyes and groan at the its drenched state. ___was a blushing mess, mumbling his name out of surprise. His hands tenderly shed the last piece of clothing on her body: Jimin hooked both of his hands at the sides of her thighs and stripped her underwear off her which had grown quite stubborn, owing to the oozing pond of desire surrounding it. After undressing her, Jimin examined her panty, placed daintily on his palm. ___ was flabbergasted to witness what occurred right after. He brought the fabric close to his nose and inhaled her sweet scent, almost as if it was his life-source, with his tongue sticking out.
“What are you doing,” ___ said, with an arm outstretched to grab her panty back and shielding her bare breasts with another.
“This belongs to me now,” Jimin snickered, clutching the lacey number tightly in hand and twirling it with his fingers like a newfound jewel; the core of the underwear was exposed to his nose yet again, as his eyelashes fluttered shut, and a hungry whiff passed through his lungs; ___ was certainly delectable to taste, he mused.
___ succumbed to the discomfiture creeping up on her cheeks in the form of a raging blush and staggered backwards onto the sofa-bed with Jimin’s unforgiving gaze taking in every single movement of hers. Jimin neatly tucked her shell-pink panty into the drawer beside him, securely locking it behind himself as if that piece of underclothing was the kind of treasure that numerous people would covet.
“I have, in this very room, often fantasised about having you unclothed, I must admit. I have pictured it one too many times. And so much more,” Jimin backed ___ into the mattress, crawling up on the sofa-bed with his knees bent and cornering his very dear and very naked ___. Jimin hastily unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, watching ___’s shy eyes every second and how they flickered rapidly as his toned chest was unravelled before her, wherein the unclicking of each button heightened the delicious ache between her legs.
___ extended her hand to discern a sensation of Jimin’s bare chest; her palms were itching to do so. She explored the expanse of his shirtless torso, gingerly abandoning her bashfulness. Jimin kissed her once again, loosely lacing his forearms around her shoulders; the kiss was unhurried and it was Park Jimin at his best, he could hear her suppressed whimpers from their hot-mouthed smooch alone.
“Jimin-n-n,” ___ sputtered, her voice livid with need when Jimin pulled away from the kiss.
“I know, I know.”
The innermost crevice of her thighs glistened with the dewdrops of her craving and those drove Jimin into a stuporous daze wherein the only thing he knew that he was being devoured by his all-consuming thirst and ___ was spurting like a delicious fountain. Jimin bowed down on the bed to be eye-level with her pitifully wet pussy, providing ___ a glorious panorama of the series of Moon phase tattoos scrolled from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine.
As ___ drooled over Jimin’s body art, she felt a tug at both her feet with Jimin striving to spread her legs; ___ unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, strained by her shyness once again. Jimin clicked his tongue, and this time, with more determination, forked her legs; he anchored both her lower limbs on each side of his shoulders as he greedily observed the congealed strings of juices that swirled in her cunt, freefalling onto the bedsheet. The glimpses of partially-clad Jimin's taut abs and the patchwork of his veins protruding from his forearms could almost propel ___ into a blinding orgasm, untouched.
Kisses were peppered on the undersides of her thighs as Jimin started to salivate, rapturous to follow the enticing trail of aroma being emitted from ___’s weeping centre.
"You are going to make the floorboard leak, running like a faucet," Jimin growled lowly, smacking his lips.
When Jimin leant closer to her pussy, ___ whined, crossing her legs on his bare back out of sheer habit, however, Jimin smirked at the undeniable closeness of her cunt: no amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now.
“Look at you. I had no idea you could be this filthy. Your fucking pussy is overflowing right in front of my eyes and I haven’t even touched you,” upon hearing the so very refined Park Jimin’s extremely lewd choice of words reverberating through her skin, for the first time in her life, ___ almost sensed another tidal wave of wetness gush through her cunt, her breasts heaving up and down with her saliva-slicked nipples glimmering pertly.
Jimin’s leather pants seemed to have deflated, closing in on tightly on his dick, painfully smothering it; but it was his member that was soaked in precum and had burgeoned in size, owing to the starkly naked visual of his crush splayed out before him, moaning with her pussy pleasurably bubbling: the scene sparked a fire at the pit of his stomach, making him needier by the minute. He wanted nothing more than to shimmy off the waistband of his briefs and pants and fuck her mercilessly right into her creaming cunt but, he was aware that that had to wait and he had to practise some restraint; they had a longer way to go for that to happen, at least for now.
Jimin traced the glossy flower-bud of her cunt with his finger, inciting a shocked, incisive intake of breath from ___ and then plopped his mouth on her clit, sucking it with his lips as ___ breathlessly thrashed about, her legs squeezing Jimin’s torso between themselves. One of his hands solidly grasped her left thigh in its place, and another situated itself at her glossily wet entrance as his index finger toyed with the tight trench of her pussy, eliciting a panting chorus of his name from her lips. He inserted a dexterous finger into her most intimate cavity and the midriff of ___’s body rose up from the sofa-bed, as if levitating. Jimin, unfrazzled by her explosive reaction and with a one track-mind to finally relish his personal delicacy, leapt forward with his mouth puckered and settled an open-lipped kiss on her cunt, the sap of her pussy glazing his lush lips.
Jimin’s girthy finger soon acquired a maddening pace as it vanished inside her pussy and then exited and he repeated these motions as ____’s pleading grew louder with each moment. She cleaved around his mouth which was afflicting an unrelenting force on her cunt, licking, lightly biting and mouthing all over it. His skilfull tongue worked in tandem with and seemed to be just as agile as his finger as he rolled her bud around in his mouth with a spinning whirl. The onslaught of Jimin’s tongue had ___ convulsing and scampering to clench his hair in her hands as his head bobbled between her legs.
"I want this taste on my tongue forever. You are so enjoyable; you have no clue," Jimin muttered hoarsely while coming up for air before diving face-first into her pussy once again.
"Jimin, fuck.... I-really, I really need you Jim..." ___ was interrupted by a strangled moan hurtling from her own throat as she felt Jimin's finger traverse through a particularly sensitive spot, and upon reading her bodily reaction, Jimin thrust his tongue in the same area, making ___ quiver and shriek his full name.
"Damn, do you want people to think that I am running a torturous dungeon rather than a dance studio in here, screaming like that," Jimin smirked, pleased with himself as he persistently fingered her right where she needed it the most, with his tongue lapping up all of her seductive juices.
___ started to shiver as a deluge of sensations begin to take over her consciousness; Jimin was ceaseless with his mouth attacking every inch of her cunt, exploring pleasurable places that she did not even know existed as his fingers fucked her into a delirium. His now sweat-streaked hair was plastered across her thighs, tickling her with each rise and fall of his head between her legs as he kept making his craving for her well-known through his dirty monologues.
___ grabbed Jimin's bare biceps to steady herself as he noisily slurped on her clit, drool pouring from his mouth to the shiny folds of her pussy, foreseeing a strong climax coming. She felt a colossal flare forming in her belly, desperate to be released as her moans created even more clamour; in her head, a montage of the vulgar yet beautiful things that shirtless Jimin had said to her played on loop, sending her over the edge. In a hot flash, she orgasmed as Jimin's tongue gave her one final flick and then, after having depleted all her strength, her limbs drooped around him, her eyes closing.
Jimin, with his measured movements, brought ___ an orgasm that would forever be indelible in her mind; it would be the yardstick for the other ones in the future. After she came, Jimin sincerely cleaned her up between her inner thighs with his tongue as she hissed because of her recent climax and oversensitivity in the zone.
"Let me bring you some warm water and a fresh washcloth, I have some supplies in a cabinet right here," Jimin said, walking up to the studio's corridor, while licking his lips, seeking the sweet and briny aftertaste of ___.
"Wait. Jimin. What about you," ___ said groggily, with her eyes half-shut, referring to his evident full-on boner.
"Uh, I will take care of that... later."
"No. I want you."
"It is not the time for that yet. Let me take you to dinner first. Also, have you seen yourself? You will pass out from round two, my pillow princess," Jimin laughed, handing her the rumpled dress that he had discarded off her body a while ago.
A month later
"I could never move like you in a thousand years. I had thought about getting another dancing tutorial class before coming to yours in order to impress you and not be so inelegant in front of you," ___ reminisced about the early days of getting to know her now-boyfriend Jimin.
"Even though your bodily coordination while dancing is reproachable, I must say that I was already quite impressed after holding a few conversations with you, my smarty-pants. Not to mention I was bowled over by your beauty," Jimin affectionately pecked her forehead, cuddling her under a soft duvet as they both drifted off to sleep.
a/n: my first time ever writing smut and all my knowledge about it comes from books and movies...not me trying to avoid writing it in this one-shot for the longest time possible, because you know, context is important. lol.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
Please Read: Kim Taehyung (BTS V) one-shot, exes-to-lovers, jealousy, Fic!Taehyung has possessive and dominating tendencies, intense yearning, passionate romance, cheating (by Y/N on her fiancé), mentions of physical intimacy, taehyungxfem!reader
masterlist
"A solitary glimpse of yours leaves me threadbare,
hopelessly flailing, but, in love, nevertheless"
V, a single alphabet, bold-lettered etching sets her heart racing.
The pristine, white wedding gown sat nestled atop the oak-wood table and its mermaid silhouette seemed to smoulder in the dim-lit crevice of the room, much to the chagrin of Y/N.
The tag of the custom designer-wear glowered at her: V, a single alphabet, bold-lettered etching on the label set her heart racing at an abnormal pace, almost as if replicating her desire to run away from the guilt collating at the pit of her stomach or the peculiar tightening of her chest.
Junmyeon's tranquil aura and pure-hearted smile wafted through her conscience once again; perhaps she could wrest the strength from her mind and body to marry him on the forthcoming Friday, in a mellow afternoon ceremony in a small-town, tucked deeply into the countryside, just like they had always envisaged. Perhaps, the wedding could extinguish the soul-splitting wildfires raging in her thoughts, once and for all. Perhaps, a sacred commitment to Junmyeon wouldn't let her thoughts linger on the pair of deep-set eyes that seemed to permeate through her entire being, with a blistering intimacy that nearly turned her inside-out.
Her stint as a fashion designer with the luxury brand V had been punctuated with an array of achievements: she had conceptualised the aesthetic for the seasonal collections, worked on assortments of exquisite accessories, undertaken painstaking market-research, overseen the creation of mood-boards and most ardently, catered to the whimsical demands of the creative director, Kim Taehyung.
Taehyung's whiplash-inducing attitude often left her enervated, but, determined nevertheless. Soon enough, their workplace equation ambled into convoluted territory once Taehyung made his feelings for Y/N well-known. Tussling with her own complicated emotions for Taehyung, Y/N relocated her enviable professional achievements and aspirations and left V behind to join another fashion house, only to have a trove of the remnants of a past and an unfinished romance follow her around which inched closer with every breath that she took.
After almost a year of a stretching communicational void with Taehyung, seeing a wedding dress, marked with the label V, stupefied Y/N. In the past year she had met Junmyeon, fallen for his good soul, his simplistic, translucent charm; there was nothing complicated about him, no serpentine schemes simmering beneath his skin and no façades; he had to be the one. On a summer night, whilst Y/N swayed in her seashell-blue dress, Junmyeon proposed, and Y/N could not come up with a coherent reason to say no, so she wore an amiable smile and nodded. Junmyeon was overjoyed, so she decided she should be too.
Taehyung's name continued to flitter through her thoughts, indelible and somehow, even more stubborn after her engagement. As Y/N agonised over the delivery of the wedding dress that she had not even ordered, a knock resounded through the quiet room. Y/N realised how late it was, and cautiously peeked through the peephole carved in the door; it was the Kim Taehyung himself, in all his unholy glory, black-shirt crumpled after a workaday, the top two buttons undone, chocolate curls disheveled and splayed across his forehead, leaning against the door-frame. Y/N let out a sigh, baffled and yet, not surprised by his visit.
As palpitations reverberated through her body, Y/N unlocked the door, to face Taehyung; there were dark purple half-moons buried underneath the folds of his hypnotic eyes, his sweat-drenched hair was not its usual immaculate self and a bewildering smirk hung on his impossibly pink lips: how could he manage to look so ravaged and enchanting at the same time?
"Hope the gown is to your liking. I toiled day and night to craft the perfect gossamer, untainted snow-white wedding couture that you had always wanted. Consider it a parting gift from the V house of fashion. I would be lying if I said I did not feel envious of the way the fabric gets to cling to your waist," he drawled.
Taehyung's presence in the confining space of the doorway was suddenly heavy, almost oppressive. Y/N found herself curling inwards, shrinking herself as he loomed, eyeing Y/N. Y/N could not utter the words she had been mentally rehearsing for months; his midnight eyes seemed to singe her very soul. She wore a blank expression; her lips were parted but, remained wordless.
"I read about you and Junhyuk. Perhaps you already have a dress. But is it as dreamy as the one I designed for you?" a haughty smile latched onto his godly features.
"Junmyeon. His name is Junmyeon. And yes, your parting present is a little too late, and I already have a dress that I plan on wearing on my wedding day. Thank you for your concern, but, it is not really needed," Y/N suddenly found herself fuming at his audacity, and more so, at his ability to be so alluring even in his passive-aggressive hostility.
Y/N huffed and trudged through the corridor towards the living room, knowing Taehyung would follow. He deftly shut the door with his boot-clad foot and twisted the doorknob, savouring the residual warmth with his palm: the warmth that was smattered on it from the moment when Y/N had clutched, twisted and untwisted it, in dizzied anticipation after seeing his face.
"I will make you some coffee. Then you may be on your way, and please take the dress with yourself, perhaps, it could be a display in one of your offices, for the interns to emulate. It is too beautiful to perish in the corner of my wardrobe," Y/N willed herself not to look into his eyes, which seemed to carry a skyful of intensity, and wreak havoc on her knees, making her feel collapsible, feeble and powerless under his gaze; as she turned towards the kitchen, she felt a sharp tug at the small of her back.
Taehyung spun Y/N, spread his legs, trapping her between them and rested his large hands on her waist, and the heat garnered within his fingertips soaked through her flimsy camisole top, scorching her insides. He patiently studied the contours of her face, softly tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her now reddened ear, and his eyes leisurely strolled over the nape of her neck and the crescent-pendant hanging lowly onto the dip of her cleavage. Y/N's quivers melted into his warm, honeyed skin as she attempted to gather the courage to push him away, but she felt utterly depleted by his all-consuming stare.
"Wonder how Junmyeon would feel about this," Taehyung said in a hoarse whisper, tangling his right hand with her hair and unhurriedly leaning towards Y/N's lips. She could smell the faint traces of whiskey and the afterthought of a mint on his breath; his cologne seemed to cloud her senses, and overpower her rationality. Taehyung grabbed her wrists, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them, the pendant gifted by Junmyeon teetered on the seams of her top, as her chest touched Taehyung's firm one. With a careful tilt, Taehyung lifted Y/N's chin with his fingertip, compelling her to look at him, almost as if he could feel her visceral weakness.
There was something peculiarly animalistic about how he gasped and littered her neck with open-mouthed kisses, and Y/N, like a docile prey, submitted. It was an emotional stature that she had never experienced with Junmyeon: the relationship that she had with him felt equal, but, with Taehyung, it was always him who had the upper hand. The chasm of inequity between Y/N and Taehyung was almost palpable: he was alarmingly controlling and made her feel vulnerable and helpless; in retrospect, it was one of the reasons that she had chosen to leave the relationship behind, but, Taehyung continued to be the perpetual subject of her yearning, her favourite "what if" to obsess over.
"You should leave," Y/N whispered and Taehyung, towering over Y/N, responded with a dry chuckle, cupping her face and stroking her cheekbones excruciatingly slow, as his other hand slithered its way down to her chest, making her choke out breathless whimpers.
"I only came here to congratulate you. Does it feel liberating to marry him? Does it feel good to see me writhe in pain? Isn't this what you wanted? I bet your Junmyeon is so good to you," Taehyung gritted the last bit of the sentence through his teeth whilst toying with the spaghetti straps of her top.
"Taehyung, I hate to break it to you, but, you cannot come here on the pretext of the dress or congratulating me, only to mess with my head. Please," Y/N stated, pushed his chest away with her hands, lightly, and half-heartedly. Seeing him again had stirred up emotions within her that she so desperately wanted to obliterate.
"I would leave. But, only after you assure me that you no longer feel anything for me," Taehyung grumbled, responding to her resistance by pinning both her forearms against the wall.
Y/N's trembling lips did not hold an answer; all that they did encase was temptation. Taehyung found himself inexplicably drawn to her from the very day they had begun working together. A year from their breakup, learning about her engagement to Junmyeon had profoundly wrecked him; it had been a routine Saturday as he worked on the designs for an upcoming collection, when he came across a tabloid article about SH Limited conglomerate founder, Junmyeon's proposal to the celebrity fashion designer, Y/N; she had said yes, and it was rumoured that a date had already been set. He roamed through his beachside penthouse with a crazed look plastered on his face, unable to accept the reality or even form an appropriate response to the whole ordeal. Melancholic thoughts whizzed through his head at the sight of Junmyeon in the morning paper, which he ended up crumpling and throwing in the trashcan. It wasn't until the very last week until her wedding that Taehyung could bring himself to face her.
"Taehyung, I am not capable of lying to you. So, I want you to know that I feel a certain way for you and I would always do. But, I cannot hang on to that feeling for the rest of my life. I love Junmyeon," Y/N muttered in a low tone, almost as if lulling herself into denial.
"Love Junmyeon? Do not humour me. Why are you trying so hard to act like you belong to someone else when all you know is how to be mine. You have always been mine. I have ached ever since the day you chose not to be with me," Taehyung placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, with his fingers lightly nipping at the waistbands of her mini-skirt. Y/N ripped his hands away from her lower abdomen and exhaled sharply; there was no winning when it came to Taehyung.
"Please let me be a better boyfriend. Please let me do better this time. You said I stifled you with my possessiveness, right? That little Junmyeon of yours, I bet he is no angel, especially after he will find out about today. I will tone it down. I will be whoever you need me to be," Taehyung was the one pleading and yet, it was him who seemed to dominate the milieu.
"Can you feel just what you do to me?" Taehyung bent his knees, angling them around Y/N's thighs and pressed his core against Y/N's stomach. After drinking in the visual of a Y/N who is short of breath, desperately trying to form a smart comeback but, ultimately surrendering to Taehyung's dark enticement, he reveled in the feeling of having vanquished her reluctance and her rejection; he had finally defeated Junmyeon.
Taehyung dropped his head down and swiftly placed his lips on Y/N's. His hands hovered over her exposed back, holding onto her greedily. Their mouths moved in unison, with Taehyung hungrily swallowing her sighs and her moans. His right hand trailed over her soft thigh, lifting her skirt and leaving behind a stream of flames on Y/N's skin. "I am sorry. I love you, I love you. I cannot believe you are all mine," he chanted as he peeled the straps of her top off her shoulders.
Y/N woke up to sunlight flooding her room and a familiar face peering at her through his dark-hued curls. She wrapped the silk duvet around her unclothed body as she looked groggily at Taehyung, who was sprawled in a tiger-like disposition on her bed, smiling victoriously.
"You cannot marry Junmyeon in good conscience after this, can you?"
A wistful tear rolled down Y/N's cheek when she saw the crescent pendant carelessly thrown across the bedroom as she felt Taehyung push her hair aside and place a delicate kiss on her shoulder blade.
"So, when does the Junmyeon-purge begin?"
Disclaimer
This is a work of fanfiction with fictional characters. I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment. This has no relation to real life.
This is a work of fiction with all fictional characters.
