2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

@theartofmadeline
art blog(derogatory)

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
ojovivo
YOU ARE THE REASON
Jules of Nature

Product Placement

Origami Around
taylor price

roma★
wallacepolsom
Stranger Things

blake kathryn
Not today Justin

izzy's playlists!

titsay
Sweet Seals For You, Always
styofa doing anything

PR's Tumblrdome

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Taiwan

seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Dominican Republic
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Poland
seen from Indonesia
seen from Poland

seen from Brazil

seen from Singapore

seen from Türkiye
@mysingularitybts
ORAL FIXATION(S) || KIM SEOKJIN X READER
blurb: jin has an oral hyperfixation...kissing
pairing: idol!kim seokjin x reader
word count: 1.3k
warnings: slight foul language, kinda smutty but not really, just lots of kissing and some mentions of sex
a/n: it's been nearly four years since i last published a fic here but i've recently been on a bts high with the comeback and the tour so here...have this prompt as a gift!
it partially came about cause i was watching this kdrama and you know how tame their kisses are, and while i love the drama i just want them to kiss properly!! so then i began thinking of bts and the array of jin thirst traps on them and now i am here...enjoy!
Out of all the members of BTS, no one would believe you if you said that Kim Seokjin would have the most prominent oral fixation. Some would argue Jungkook, with his mischievous grin, or perhaps Namjoon, as the mv theories suggest, but Jin?
No, ARMY wouldn’t peg the comedic, protective member to possess such a characteristic.
Their mistake to make. He is the one always blowing kisses to his fans, a clear reflection of his personality.
Much like them, you were left to discover this trait all by yourself. It was quite shocking because Jin never held back; it's not in his nature. A kiss is meant to be enjoyed between two people, and he intends to take full advantage of the opportunity.
From that first kiss, Jin memorizes your shallow breaths on his cheeks as he nears your personal bubble, his hand gently yet firmly resting on your cheek. He looks into your wide eyes and down your lips.
The lull right before a kiss is his favorite. The stutter in your breath from expectation. Will he or won't he?
He can't help brushing his plump lips on yours before you give him permission. Your gasp is a tease all in itself. He practices restraint, his hand on your waist, grasping your clothes.
He thanks whatever cosmic entity exists when you subtly nod and push forward. His restraint vanishes with that minuscule action. Jin moves his lips eagerly, enveloping yours in an intense kiss. You close your eyes and hear the sharp intake of breath, a sigh of relief. As if the restraint was pure torture.
Kim Seokjin is an intoxicating person, yet his kiss surpasses everything you've ever known. He pours every wish and desire into it as if they'll vanish if he so much as pulls away from you.
Truth is, Kim Seokjin would rather have his mouth pressed against your lips than have his dick wet. The sound of content in the back of your throat endears him further.
Jin loves his fans, loves the cheers mid-concert, loves his bandmates, and loves all the experiences they've shared over so many years.
There's nothing he loves more, though, than pulling you completely flush against him to feel your curves against his lean body. The way your chest rises and falls as you try to keep up with him. The hand on your cheek journeys to your hair, pulling on a knot that has an alluring moan erupting from your lips.
It's the perfect opportunity for him to slip his eager tongue past the seam of your lips, successfully deepening the kiss as he tilts his head. Jin completely ignores the pain in his neck from leaning down for so long. Nothing will stop him from kissing the life out of you.
He tilts his head to achieve that better angle. His lips never tire of moving. They never tire of tasting your sweet mouth. That hand in the back of your neck guides you, complying with his every wish. While the other drags down your back, squeezing your curves along the way.
He’s hyperaware of the way your body reacts to him. Your face flushes warm, your hands grip him tight, closer and closer, your chest quickly rising and falling until you have to pull away. You’re no singer; your breath control is plainly average.
"Jin..." his name is the only thought you can formulate. You're lightheaded from a kiss that is far from simple. This is not what you expected from Jin, not that you’re complaining. He has your skin feeling on fire.
Jin is so merciful that he gives you a break. His slick lips kissing your cheek, your jaw, down your neck, sucking red bruises that’ll fade in a couple of hours. "You taste so fucking sweet," Jin's voice vibrates against your skin.
That's only the first kiss.
As feelings and familiarity continue to grow, the more intense Jin becomes. He's shameless about it. He is who he is, and he likes what he likes.
Seokjin would much rather have a steamy make-out session than a quickie. He would much rather have you grinding on his thigh as he swallows every precious sound you make. His tongue licking the roof of your mouth.
Small pecks are unacceptable. If you wish to touch his lips with yours, expect more than a peck, expect movement.
"I'm heading out now, Jinnie," you mention, approaching him from where he sits watching TV.
"Will you have dinner with your friends or should I make something?" He asks, pausing the TV and standing. He places his hands on your hips, swaying you lightly. Moments of domesticity quickly become scarce as his agenda fills up after enlistment. “You look beautiful.”
"I'll have dinner with the girls," you smile, grateful for his attentiveness. Leaning into him, you quickly peck his lips and step back to head out.
His hands don't budge, holding you in place. "Huh?" Looking up at him, you find him with furrowed eyebrows and a prominent pout, "What was that?" He asks firmly.
"A kiss?" You shrug, throwing him a questioning glance.
"You call that a kiss? Have I taught you nothing?" He says, exasperated, mouth agape with offense.
You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, "Are you serious?"
"I am! Come here, it seems like you need another lesson in French Kissing 101," he chastises, hand on your cheek as his thumb caresses your cheek.
He ignores your pleas and complains that you'd be late, holding you still and dipping his head to press his pillowy lips on your talking ones. They are effective in silencing you. You're quickly swept away, briefly forgetting what you were supposed to be doing.
Expect wet, messy kisses day and night. He’s not scared of saliva. He wants that string between the two of you when he’s forced to pull away. Hell, he will spit in your mouth and kiss you after to get it back if you let him.
Adores pinching your cheeks so your lips pucker, the gesture riling him up more than he cares to admit. Such an adorable gesture was corrupted by him.
Let’s not forget how utterly beautiful you look afterward with mussed, tangled hair, lips of various shades of pink, and a heaving chest. He will wipe your wet lips himself, an action reserved solely for him; no one but him is allowed to touch your mouth.
For Kim Seokjin, kissing should be an Olympic sport. Kissing is very important for him emotionally, but it's such a physical thing. He will pour every ounce of energy he has into one. Eyes closed, hands restless, head tilting, jaw opening and closing, tongue licking. Must be one of the reasons his face and jaw are so defined.
You're a quick learner, taking tricks from his book and applying them yourself. The one that sends him spiraling and coming in his pants is lip biting. That fucker will bite your lips when he makes out with you, leaving them swollen and red. So when you copy him and pull at his bottom lip with your teeth, he's done.
Because, yes, if the make out is good enough and he has you grinding against him, he will cum in his pants. Not a care in the world.
At your most comfortable, when he's unable to reach and kiss you, you'll apply a thick layer of lip gloss that reminds him of how your lips look after a lengthy session on his couch to tease him. To deny Jin access to your lips is pure torture. As dramatic as it sounds, he would much rather have 24/7 dance drills than have restricted access to your lips.
Granted, there are other ways he can put his mouth to use, but those are stories for another day.
liked this oneshot? like, reblog or let me know in the comments!
After Hours | jjk
When Jungkook can’t get the raw, desperate moans he needs for his sensual new track, he turns to the one person who can give him exactly what he wants - you.
pairing𓂃 : jungkook x fem!reader
warnings𓂃 : vocal booth au, recording kink, voyeurism (the mic is always on), degradation + praise kink, dom!jungkook, jungkook is a big fucking talker, he’s obsessed with your moans, fingering, he fucks you stupid, he cums inside (wrap it up guysss), dirty talk, he makes you listen to the raw audio after, yearning + obsessed jungkook, they both are down for each other, slight breeding talk
Word count 𓂃 ~ 2.5K
It’s 2:17 a.m. when you push open the heavy studio door, two iced Americanos sweating in your hands. The control room glows with that familiar blue-purple light from the mixing board. The sensual, heavy beat Jungkook has been working on for weeks loops quietly — deep 808s, breathy synths, and a slow, grinding rhythm that already feels like sex.
Jungkook is alone, hunched over the console, black hair messy, silver chain catching the light every time he moves. His eyes flick up the second you step inside, and that slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face — the one that always makes your stomach flip and your thighs press together.
“Baby,” he rasps, voice hoarse from hours of recording. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I know,” you say, setting the coffees down. “But your texts sounded stressed. Figured you needed company...”
He rolls his chair back and pulls you between his legs without hesitation, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face in your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair and feel him melt for a second. Then he pulls back and looks up at you with those dark, hooded eyes.
“I’m stuck,” he admits quietly. “The ad-libs sound fake. I’ve done forty takes and none of them feel real. The producer wants that raw, desperate sound — like someone’s actually getting fucked while the track plays. I need real moans. The kind you make when I’m deep inside you. Wet. Shaky. Completely unfiltered.”
Your breath catches.
“You want to record me… while we’re having sex?” you whisper.
He nods slowly, thumbs stroking your hips. “The mic is already hot. The booth is empty. Door’s locked. No one’s coming until morning. Just… help me get one perfect take? Please?”
You stare at the glowing red “RECORDING” light inside the vocal booth. The idea is filthy. Dangerous. And you’re already wet.
“Okay,” you breathe.
Jungkook’s eyes darken instantly.
Ten minutes later you’re both inside the vocal booth.
The space feels smaller with the tension between you. The beat plays low through the monitors, vibrating through the floor. Jungkook locks the door behind you, the click final and exciting. He turns to you, voice low.
“Clothes off. Slowly. I want to watch every second.”
You obey, heart hammering. Shirt first, then bra. His gaze is heavy, devouring every inch of skin you reveal. When you push your skirt and panties down he actually groans, stepping closer.
“Fuck, look at you. Already soaked and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
He spins you around so your back is to his chest, both of you facing the big glass window and the glowing red light. His hands slide up your sides, cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until they’re tight and aching.
“Hands on the glass,” he murmurs against your ear. “Legs apart.”
You do it. The glass is cool under your palms. Behind you, his belt clinks, zipper drags. Then the hot, heavy weight of his cock presses against your ass — already hard, already leaking.
He reaches past you and adjusts the expensive studio mic so the capsule sits right in front of your mouth.
“Say something, baby. Let me check the levels.”
“Jungkook…” you whisper.
The mic picks it up perfectly — soft, already shaky with anticipation.
He smiles against your neck. “Perfect. Now don’t hold back. I want every sound. Every gasp. Every moan. Every time you say my name while I’m fucking you.”
He slides two long fingers between your legs from behind, dragging them slowly through your folds. You’re already soaked. A soft gasp leaves you.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he murmurs. “The mic is gonna love this.”
He circles your clit with two fingers, slow and teasing, while his other hand grips your hip. Then he pushes one finger inside — deep, curling immediately against that spot.
You moan, forehead dropping against the glass.
“That’s it,” he says, voice low. “Let the mic hear how wet you are for my fingers.”
He adds a second finger, thrusting slowly, scissoring them open, stretching you. The wet, filthy sounds fill the booth and the mic captures every single one — the slick squelch, your shaky breaths, the way your moans get higher every time he curls his fingers just right.
“Moan louder,” he coaches. “I want people to hear exactly how good my fingers feel inside you.”
You obey. Broken, desperate sounds pour out of you as he fingers you faster, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your legs shake. The red light glows. The beat pulses.
When you cum the first time it’s on his fingers — walls clenching, a long, raw moan ripping out of you that the mic eats up completely. Jungkook groans behind you, fingers still moving, fucking you through it.
“Perfect,” he pants. “That’s the sound I want.”
He then lines himself up and pushes in slowly — torturously slowly — stretching you open inch by inch while the deep beat pulses around you. A broken, breathy moan slips out before you can stop it.
“That’s it,” Jungkook groans, bottoming out. “Just like that. Let the mic hear how full you are.”
He stays buried deep for a long moment, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up to gently collar your throat — possessive but gentle. Then he starts moving.
Long, deep, deliberate strokes. The kind that make your toes curl and your eyes flutter. Every time he pulls out you can hear how wet you are — that filthy, slick sound the mic is capturing in crystal-clear detail.
“Moan for me,” he says, voice rough. “Louder. I need it raw.”
You give it to him. A soft, trembling sound that turns into a longer, needier moan when he angles his hips and drags perfectly against that spot inside you.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “Again. Right there.”
He fucks you a little harder, but still controlled, savoring every second. The desk in front of you rattles. Your breasts press against the cool glass. The red light stares back like it’s watching everything.
Jungkook’s dirty talk starts flowing, low and filthy right against your ear:
“Listen to how wet you are, baby. The mic is eating every single sound. Everyone who hears this track is gonna know exactly how good I fuck you.”
You whimper, thighs shaking.
“Say my name.”
“Jungkook—”
“Louder.”
“Jungkook—!”
He rewards you by speeding up just enough, hips rolling deeper. One hand slides around to rub slow, tight circles on your clit while the other stays on your throat. The combination is devastating.
You’re moaning shamelessly now — high, breathy, desperate sounds the mic devours. Jungkook keeps coaching you the entire time, voice dark and encouraging:
“Perfect… just like that… let it all out.” “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you’re falling apart on my cock.” “Give me more, baby. I want this take to be filthy. I want people to hear how desperate you get for me.”
Your second orgasm builds slowly, torturously. Jungkook refuses to rush it. He keeps the pace deep and steady, hitting that spot over and over while his fingers work your clit with expert precision. When you finally cum it’s with a long, broken wail that cracks in the middle — raw, completely unfiltered, exactly what he wanted.
The mic catches everything: the way your voice shakes, the desperate little sobs, the way you chant his name like a prayer as your walls clamp down around him.
Jungkook groans like he’s in pain, hips stuttering. "Fuck, that’s perfect.”
But he doesn’t stop.
He keeps fucking you through it — slower now, but deeper, grinding against your oversensitive walls while you tremble and whimper. The wet, filthy sounds of him moving inside you are obscene and the mic picks up every single one.
“Gonna fill you up,” he growls against your ear. “Gonna make sure you’re leaking me when we leave this booth. Every time you sit down tomorrow you’ll feel me.”
You’re too far gone to answer with words. All that comes out are broken, high-pitched moans the mic captures perfectly.
When Jungkook finally cums the first time it’s with a long, guttural moan right against the back of your neck — deep, raw, and so real it makes your stomach flip. He stays buried inside you, pulsing, both of you shaking.
For a long moment the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the low, sensual beat still playing.
Jungkook carefully pulls out, turns you around, and lifts you onto the small leather couch in the corner. He kneels between your spread thighs, eyes dark and hungry as he watches his cum slowly drip out of you.
He doesn’t give you time to fully recover.
He leans in and licks a slow, filthy stripe up your center, tasting both of you. You jolt, a broken cry escaping. The mic is still hot — he angled it before he moved you.
“Fuck, you taste like us,” he groans against your skin. “So messy. So perfect.”
He eats you like a man starved — tongue fucking into you, sucking on your clit, two fingers sliding in deep while his mouth works you over relentlessly. Your moans are loud, uncontrolled, exactly what he wants. Every time you try to muffle yourself he slaps your inner thigh, sharp and stinging.
He growls. “Let the mic hear every fucking sound you make.”
You obey. You moan and whimper and beg while he devours you, and when he finally pushes back inside — one smooth, deep thrust — you scream.
This round is slower but somehow even more intense.
Jungkook fucks you in long, rolling strokes that make your eyes roll back. He keeps the mic right beside your head, capturing every gasp, every wet sound, every time you moan his name. He talks you through it the entire time — filthy, coaching, possessive.
“Listen to yourself,” he pants. “Listen to how wrecked you sound. You’re gonna sound so good on the track, baby.” “Tell me how deep I am. Louder. The mic needs to hear it.” “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. You love this, don’t you? Love knowing people are gonna hear you falling apart on my cock.”
You’re crying from how good it feels — tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your temples as he fucks you deep and slow, grinding against that spot with every thrust. He reaches between you and rubs your clit in tight, relentless circles.
Your second orgasm hits harder than the first.
It crashes over you in long, rolling waves — your whole body shaking, voice breaking on a scream that the mic captures in perfect, raw detail. Jungkook fucks you through every pulse, whispering praises and filthy promises the entire time.
When he finally cums the second time it’s with a broken, desperate moan right against your mouth — deep and guttural, exactly the kind of sound that will make the track feel alive.
He stays inside you for a long time after, both of you trembling, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
Eventually he reaches over and stops the recording.
Then he hits play.
The raw audio fills the small booth.
Your first round — soft, building moans turning into desperate wails. The wet, filthy sounds of him fucking you. Your broken begging. The exact moment you came the first time — loud, shaky, completely real. Then the second round — slower, deeper, your screams and sobs as he ate you out and fucked you again. Jungkook’s own groans and dirty talk layered throughout. The final, broken moans as he filled you the second time.
It’s the hottest, most explicit thing either of you have ever heard.
Jungkook’s cock twitches inside you even though he’s already soft.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, laughing breathlessly. “That’s it. That’s the one.”
He saves the file, names it “Vocal Booth – Raw Takes (feat. Y/N)”, and pulls you into his lap for soft kisses and gentle aftercare. He wipes you down carefully, helps you get dressed, and holds you for a long time before you both finally leave the studio at 4:30 a.m., legs shaky and matching grins on your faces.
Three months later...
The track drops at midnight.
It’s called “After Hours” — a sensual, late-night R&B song with heavy bass, breathy synths, and the most explicit background vocals anyone has ever heard on a mainstream release.
Within hours the internet explodes.
Twitter / X (trending worldwide):
armyprotectjungkook: “THE BACKING VOCALS ON AFTER HOURS??? HELLO??? Those moans are TOO real I’m actually shaking in my bed rn”
jkswifey4life: “no bc the way you can hear the wetness and the skin slapping… jungkook what the fuck did you do in that vocal booth 😭😭😭”
taekookisreal101: “the girl in the background sounds like she’s actually getting fucked I’m not okay I’m never recovering from this”
moansforjk: “I’ve listened to this song 47 times already. The ad-libs are unhinged. Jungkook really said ‘let me make porn with music’”
Reddit – r/bangtan (thread with 12k upvotes):
“Anyone else losing their mind over the ad-libs in After Hours? They sound way too authentic. Like… real sex noises. I’m scared and horny at the same time.”
“Jungkook really said ‘I’m gonna make this song sound like porn’ and delivered. The production on those moans is insane. How did he make them sound so natural???”
“Bro the wet sounds are actually insane. This man recorded in the studio with someone and we all know it.”
TikTok (official audio – 4.2M views in 12 hours):
“the way the moans match the beat perfectly… someone was getting absolutely destroyed in that vocal booth and i respect it”
“jungkook if you’re reading this i need to know if those are real because i’m not sleeping tonight”
“the girl moaning sounds like she’s in love and getting railed at the same time… tell me that’s not his secret girlfriend”
“i’ve never been so jealous of a microphone in my life”
Weverse (Jungkook’s post 3 hours after release):
[JK] Did you guys like the new song? 😏 [JK] The ad-libs were fun to record. [JK] Special thanks to my very talented guest vocalist 🔥 [JK] Don’t ask too many questions lol
The comments immediately go feral.
Fans are losing their minds. Theories are everywhere — some say it’s an actress, some say it’s a random staff member, a few very loud ones are convinced it’s his secret girlfriend. The “how are the moans so realistic” discourse is trending worldwide. People are making edits, slowing down the track, analyzing every gasp.
And Jungkook? He’s lying in bed with you, phone in one hand, the other lazily stroking your thigh.
He turns to you with that dangerous little smirk.
“Think they’ll ever figure it out?” he asks, voice low.
You smile, still sore in the best way.
“Probably not,” you whisper. “But they’re definitely going to keep listening… over and over.”
Jungkook laughs, pulls you on top of him, and kisses you slow and deep.
“Good,” he murmurs against your lips. “Because I already booked the studio again for next week. I want more takes.”
You shiver.“Only if you let me choose the positions this time.”
His smile turns wicked. “Deal, baby. Anything for the perfect sound.”
He then tapped the screen until the familiar sounds fills the dark bedroom, playing softly from the speakers.
You both go quiet, listening.
The first thing that comes through is your own voice — soft at first, then breathy and shaky as his fingers worked you open in the vocal booth. Your desperate moans as he fingered you to your first orgasm. The way your voice cracked when he finally pushed his cock inside you.
Jungkook’s hand on your stomach tightens.
“Fuck,” he whispers against your hair. “Hearing it like this… in our bed… it sounds even dirtier than I remembered.”
You feel heat flood between your legs instantly.
The track keeps playing. Your moans grow louder, more broken. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers moving inside you fill the room. Then the moment he switched to his cock — that first deep thrust, your choked sob of pleasure.
Jungkook’s breathing has gone heavier. His hand slides lower, fingers brushing the waistband of your panties.
“Listen to how wet you were for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Everyone heard it. Thousands of people are listening to you falling apart on my fingers right now.”
You whimper softly.
He pushes your panties down your thighs and slips two fingers between your legs. You’re already soaked — have been since the listening started. He groans when he feels it.
“Shit… you’re dripping just from listening to us.”
He circles your clit slowly, exactly the way he did in the studio, while the sounds continues playing. Your own moans from three months ago echo through the bedroom, mixing with the soft, real ones you’re making now.
“Jungkook…” you breathe.
“Shh. Just listen, baby.”
He pushes two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them the way he knows drives you crazy. The wet sound is loud in the quiet room — almost as loud as the one coming from the speakers.
“Fuck, you sound exactly the same,” he groans, pumping his fingers steadily. “So wet. So perfect. The mic caught every single sound… and now I get to hear it while I do it again.”
The raw sounds reaches the part where you came the first time in the booth — that long, raw wail. Jungkook curls his fingers harder, thumb pressing on your clit, and you cum with a broken moan that’s almost identical to the one playing through the speakers.
He doesn’t stop.
He keeps fingering you through it, slow and relentless, while the track moves into the second round — the part where he ate you out and fingered you again before fucking you on the couch.
“Listen to that,” he whispers, voice rough. “That’s you cumming on my tongue. Then on my fingers again. Everyone heard how many times I made you fall apart that night.”
You’re trembling, oversensitive, but he doesn’t let up. When the song reaches the part where he finally pushed his cock inside you the second time, Jungkook pulls his fingers out, rolls on top of you, and slides in — one smooth, deep thrust.
You both moan at the same time.
The song is still playing. Your recorded moans fill the room while Jungkook fucks you slow and deep in the dark, face-to-face, forehead pressed to yours.
“God, you feel so good,” he pants.
He rolls his hips in that perfect rhythm, hitting every spot that makes your vision blur. One hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again.
“Cum for me again,” he whispers. “Let me hear the real version while the recorded one plays.”
You cum hard, nails digging into his back, moaning his name right as your recorded voice does the same on the track. Jungkook follows seconds later, burying his face in your neck with a low, broken groan as he pulses deep inside you.
The track keeps playing softly around you as you both come down, breathing hard, bodies tangled.
Jungkook doesn’t pull out. He stays buried inside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your lips — slow and sweet now.
“That was hotter than the studio,” he murmurs, smiling against your mouth. “Hearing us together like that… fuck.”
You laugh weakly, still floating. “You’re actually going to listen to our sex tape while we have sex now?”
“I prefer the real you, my love.” he says, grinning. “The fans think those sounds are the hottest thing they’ve ever heard. They have no idea it’s you. My perfect, filthy little secret.”
holy…….😵💫😮💨😵🙈 just wow okay! i liked that!
A melody for Christmas Eve
Pairing: Yoongi x f!reader
Genre: fluff
Trigger warnings: insomnia (not mentioned directly)
Word count: 1K
MASTERLIST
Snowflakes tap lightly against your window like they’re trying to coax you into sleep, but it’s useless. You’ve been tossing and turning for hours, tangled in blankets and frustration. Christmas Eve is supposed to feel warm, magical, restful, even. But your mind won’t quiet down, churning with half-formed thoughts and leftover worries from the week.
You stare at the ceiling for what feels like the hundredth time before you give up and reach for your phone. The screen lights up the dark room, soft and blue. Without thinking too hard, you tap into your messages.
Are you awake?
The reply comes faster than you expect.
Yeah. What’s wrong?
You hesitate. He’s probably busy. He’s always busy. But the knot in your chest pushes you forward.
I can’t sleep.
Three blinking dots. Then:
Come to the studio.
You blink. Now?
A second message pops up almost immediately.
Yeah. I’m here anyway.
You exhale, something like relief warming your chest. You’re slipping into thick socks before you can overthink it, bundling up and stepping into the cold hallway. The building is quiet, most people already gone home to families and traditions. You wrap your coat tighter as you head out into the crisp air, the snow glittering under the streetlights like someone sprinkled sugar over the whole city.
By the time you reach the familiar studio building, your fingers are numb but your stomach is fluttering with something that feels dangerously close to anticipation. You take the elevator up, the gentle hum filling the silence.
When the doors open, the hallway is dim, but a sliver of warm light escapes from under one of the doors. You recognize it instantly.
You knock softly.
“Yeah, come in.”
Yoongi’s voice is low, rough around the edges like he hasn’t spoken much tonight. You push the door open and step inside.
He’s seated in his usual chair, one leg tucked under him, hoodie pulled up, headphones around his neck. The room smells faintly of coffee and something warm like cedar and winter air. Yoongi turns toward you, and the hint of a smile softens his eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?”
You shake your head, suddenly feeling small beneath his gaze. “Not even a little.”
He nods like he understands perfectly, because somehow, he always does.
“Well,” he says, gesturing to the extra chair beside him, “sit. I’ve got something for that.”
You settle into the seat, pulling your knees close. The studio is dim except for a soft amber lamp glowing in the corner. It feels safe here, the hum of equipment and the faint scent of warm electronics wrapping around you like a blanket.
Yoongi swivels slightly toward his keyboard and computer. His movements are quiet, almost careful. “I wasn’t planning on showing this to anyone yet,” he murmurs, fingers brushing over the keys, “but you look like you need it.”
You look at him, surprised. “You wrote something?”
A dry laugh. “I’m always writing something.”
He presses a key and the note rings out, soft and clear.
Then the music begins.
It’s gentle at first, a fragile melody that feels like snowflakes drifting past streetlights, like a sigh of relief after a long day. It’s warm, though, threaded with something tender. The kind of sound that makes your chest loosen without you realizing it.
Yoongi doesn’t look at the screen while it plays. He watches you instead. Not intensely, not pressuring, just quietly, like he’s checking whether the song is doing what he hopes it will.
You exhale slowly. “It’s beautiful.”
He turns his gaze back to the desk, ears tinting slightly pink. “It’s… nothing big. Just something I made between projects.”
“You made this between projects?”
He shrugs, pretending to focus on a dial he doesn’t need to adjust. “Couldn’t sleep either.”
Something like affection curls warm and soft in your chest. Of all places to be on Christmas Eve, he’s here alone, creating something gentle enough to cradle someone else’s exhaustion. And he let you in.
As the melody shifts into a deeper, more soothing harmony, your shoulders loosen without permission. The tension in your neck dissolves. Your breaths fall into a steadier rhythm.
“You used strings,” you murmur.
He glances at you again. “You always like strings.”
You hadn’t known he paid attention to that. The realization settles over you like a blanket.
The song continues, each note delicate but certain. Comforting. Yoongi leans back, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Music helps when nothing else does. At least for me.”
“It helps,” you say quietly. “A lot.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Good.”
Another moment passes, warm, quiet, peaceful. The world outside feels far away. You watch his profile as he listens to the playback, his expression soft and unguarded. There’s something about seeing him like this, lit only by the faint glow of the monitor, wrapped in stillness that makes your heart feel too big for your chest.
He breaks the silence first. “Your breathing’s slower.”
You blink. “It is?”
Yoongi nods. “It means it’s working.”
You let out a quiet laugh. “Are you monitoring me?”
“Maybe.” His voice is teasing, but there’s a truth in it, he’s paying attention. Carefully. Gently.
The track loops, starting over from the beginning. Yoongi doesn’t stop it.
For a long time, you just sit there, letting the music settle into the spaces where your worries used to be.
Eventually, Yoongi reaches for a blanket draped over the back of a small couch, a simple gray one you’ve seen him use on longer nights. He sets it around your shoulders without a word.
“Yoongi…” Your voice is barely above a whisper.
“Don’t fight it,” he says softly. “You’re tired.”
You pull the blanket closer. “Thank you.”
He gives a small smile, the kind that isn’t for cameras or stages. “You don’t have to thank me. I wanted you here.”
The room falls into comfortable quiet again, the music weaving around you like a lullaby. Your eyes grow heavier with each repeat of the melody, and Yoongi notices.
He stands, moves the chair a little closer to yours, and lowers the volume just enough so the sound feels like it’s resting against your ears rather than filling the room.
“If you fall asleep,” he murmurs, “I’ll wake you before we head home.”
You’re too tired to answer with anything more than a nod.
Yoongi watches you with that same warm softness from before. “Merry Christmas Eve,” he says quietly.
Your eyes drift shut, the melody wrapping itself around the last of your tension.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Yoongi…”
You’re not fully conscious when your head tips slightly toward him, and he carefully adjusts the blanket so it doesn’t slip. The music continues, gentle, soothing, made for this exact moment.
And somewhere between one note and the next, you finally fall asleep.
Yoongi stays right beside you, letting the melody he wrote just for you, play on.
soooo cute 🥹🥹🥹
reckless | jjk
pairing: idol!jungkook x producer!reader
word count: 3.8k
tropes: idol!jungkook, producer!reader, established relationship, childhood best friends
rating: pg
warnings: smooches!!, jungkook’s being very touchy <3, smoking, lots of pda, one (1) butt squeeze, lots of teasing n flirting (they're in love ur honour), mentions of jk being on a diet, mentions of oc being bullied in the past, just soft lovesick jk <3
summary: a casual date, the skirt’s a little too short, the night a little too quiet, and jungkook's hands on you like he's never going to let go.
a/n: writing this was so therapeutic im this 🤏 close to breaking no contact ❤️ (also dare i say this is the maybe in another universe couple <3)
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
When you round the corner of the building, it’s not hard to find Jungkook.
He’s leaned against his Harley, dark clothes hanging easy on him, making him blend into the night. He has a faint frown on his face as he scans the empty street, toying with his lip ring like he’s lost in thought.
i need someone this obsessed with me in my life asap!!!! please!!!!! i’m tired of being single. please universe send a handsome dark haired doe eyed man who rides bikes my way!!!
Interlude | MYG | Epilogue - Finale
Pair: Idol!Yoongi x Deaf!reader
Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.
Chapter warnings: Smut…………. DDAY Yoongi. Be warned. Here we are, my loves! The final chapter of this sweet sweet series that has made so many of you fall in love with these two. I can't even start to tell you all how surprised I am at how this series turned out, how invested all of you became. We will definitely miss them! In other words, I know this kind of fic was very different from my usual content and I was a little nervous as to how it would be accepted and, especially, if I've done it justice. I don't think any other series will ever be as precious and special as this one, so I just have to thank every single one of you that read this story, and a special big fat kiss for all of those who interacted, sent asks and comments about it. See you in the next one!
A/N: Phrases in italic during the dialogs mean the character is using sign language!
WC: 6.4k
[Membership]
← Previous | Series Masterlist |
“Am I boring you?”
Jimin’s sweet voice made you look at him with wide eyes, so used to not hearing when people talked to you that you thought this might be the case. The man was sitting next to you on the couch of Yoongi’s dressing room and while he was a good company, someone easy to talk to, your heart and mind were somewhere else.
“Not at all, Jimin-ssi.” you shook your head, always surprised about hearing your own voice. “Sorry, I was just–”
“Drooling over your man?” Jimin laughed, eyes almost disappearing. “I get it, we’ve all been there.”
REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG!!!!! This series is fucking amazing and I loved every single chapter. LOVE LOVE LOVE
DECAY | jjk (m)
Being married to Jungkook was never supposed to feel like this — nights spent alone while the world adored him. You still love him, but love isn’t enough anymore… and walking away might be the only way to save yourself. Jungkook, however, isn’t ready to let you go without a fight.
idol!jungkook x non-famous!reader
warnings: explicit scene (minors DNI), divorce themes, emotional pain, mutual heartbreak.
“You cannot possibly be fucking serious right now.”
Jungkook’s eyes that were usually round, filled with the kind of soft warmth you used to drown in, now were burning, darkened with a blaze, and every single spark of it was for you.
Did I know what I was getting into? Yes
Did I still read? Yes
Did it make me want to cry? Yes
I’m a fool I would’ve forgiven him so quick.
ADHD KISSES ! mdni
Four years in and you still love Jeongguk like breathing — stupidly, fiercely, the kind that feels like home even when his superstar world and your therapy practice pull in opposite directions. He loves you back just as hard, clingy and all-consuming in that uniquely him way. But God, his brain ticks you off sometimes.
WARNINGS ◦ anxiety talks and triggers ◦ non ironic use of jagi i'm so sorry if you don't fuck with that ◦ traces of nerd!jeongguk ◦ mentions of adhd ◦ mention of smoking addiction ◦ established relationship bc i'm feeling lonely these days ◦ use of the government name to prove that i'm an og wattpad army ◦ descriptions of making out ◦ kisses and fluff stuff but also borderline nsfw (he has a boner and that's it) ◦ mention of alcohol AND alcoholism ◦ THIS IS A MESS ◦ reader farts at some point i'm sorry this is what i have to offer
2,190 ━━━━━ drabble idol!jeongguk x reader
۶ৎ 𝓜 , i'm just too good at writing realistic idol aus i know 😌 that's because i personally know all of these fine men irl yk. jk jk. this is the first time i'm writing for jungkook and the second time EVER that i'm writing for bts WHICH IS SOOO IRONIC because they are my ult group lmao. probably going to post more jjk idol aus because this man is so silly and i love his idol persona sm. anyways, enjoy :P
━━━━━ read here
not me cheesing over here like a lunatic 10/10 beautiful, domestic koo
I'LL LAND RIGHT NEXT TO YOU
⋆˚࿔ It was a typical, sweltering summer day in Los Angeles when my life changed forever — all because of a mythically ethereal boy who invited me to come to his band’s free concert that evening. What started off as a fun, spontaneous adventure for the hell of it turned into one of the best evenings of my life. All because of Park Jimin. Years later, the boy whose eye-catching smile forever is imprinted in my core memories is one of the largest global pop stars. And despite all the years since that fateful day in downtown Los Angeles, Jimin has always kept in contact with me and makes an effort to see me whenever he’s in Los Angeles. It’s now 2025 — 11 years since our first meeting, and Jimin is going to be in L.A. for a few months to work on his band’s first album since their mandatory military service. Since Jimin went into the military two years ago, I haven’t been able to see him. And in those two years, I realized…a lot about my feelings toward the man who captured my attention over a decade ago. And now that I’ve been assigned as one of the journalists working on Bangtan’s documentary for the aforementioned comeback, running into Park Jimin is inevitable. I need to keep my feelings toward Jimin in check — both, in the name of professionalism and maintaining the friendship I’ve grown to cherish the most. I don’t know how long I can keep up this professional facade when Jimin’s gaze meets mine at every opportunity. And the scariest thing about it all: I’m almost tempted to risk it all.
⋆˚꩜。 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭! park jimin & journalist!curvy!fem! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴: workplace romance, power dynamics, jimin falls first and falls harder, YEARS of yearning and pining, past and present timelines, slooooooooooooow burn, dual POV, whipped Jimin, mentions of body image, swearing, eventual smut, MDNI
⋆˚꩜。 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 19.4k and counting
Playlist for this fic can be found here.
𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | ...
© jikookiepookie All Rights Reserved. No copying, modifying or translating allowed.
the banner was created by me 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
CHAPTER 6
Los Angeles, 2025
Y/N POV
Being assigned to the BTS documentary is a monumental juncture for my career, but all of the excitement I felt for this opportunity vanished the moment I saw who the executive producer was.
Rich. Motherfucking. Lawson. The most sexist piece of shit I have ever had the dishonorable privilege of working alongside before on a short documentary for VICE a few years ago.
Any time I went to ask a question to any of the interviewees, Rich had to ask a “clarifying question,” which was basically always the same question I had asked but with different words. He would scold me for doing tasks he would ask me to do prior, as well as undermine me in front of the people we were working with. Overall, Rich Lawson was just a joy to work with — especially if you were a woman.
For the entire drive to the airport to pick up the incoming documentary subjects, I blasted my “Hot Girl Shit ™” playlist to give myself the strength to deal with the inevitable misogyny and ignorance Rich Lawson always dealt out. Scream-singing the words to “Her” by Megan Thee Stallion always seems to make me feel like Michael the Archangel preparing to take on the Devil himself.
As the exit for LAX came into view, my mind instantly went to the man I fell for over 12 years ago and how I was going to be filming him day in and day out everyday for the foreseeable future. Was the thought of being in close with proximity to the man I was lowkey in love with absolutely nerve-wracking? Yes, but I was so excited to see my friend for the first time in over two years I couldn’t even be restless over it.
Driving to the arrivals parking deck and parking my sedan, I locked the car and made my way to the arrival gate. As I walked on the sidewalk towards the crosswalks to the pick up area, the only thought motivating me to put my pride aside regarding Dickhead Lawson was knowing I would be seeing the one person I missed the most in a matter of minutes.
I stepped through the automatic doors of the passenger arrivals lobby, the baggage claim coming into view as well as the largest asshat this side of the I-5. I would recognize that greasy as hell salt-and-pepper toupee combover anywhere, a shiver running up my spine as Rich Lawson looked my way and had the audacity to smile.
“Ms. L/N! We meet again, it’s nice to see you,” Rich’s shit-eating grin didn’t reach his eyes, but I offered him a cordial nod and friendly wave in response. I wouldn’t let him get to me today.
“Mr. Lawson, I hope the traffic wasn’t too terrible for you.”
He shook his head, not even noticing I didn’t say it was nice to see him too. “No, traffic wasn’t too crazy. I was able to listen to my favorite podcast on the way here, which was great.”
Holy fuck, this was going to be one of the most insufferable experiences of my life. As Rich continued to drone on about his podcast, I couldn’t help but wonder where the lead tech guy was who was supposed to meet us to take the BTS members to their lodgings. When Rich finally took a break from info-dumping about his boring ass financial wellness podcast to take a sip from his water bottle, I raised the question.
“Isn’t there supposed to be some other guy here with us?”
“Yeah, Dean the tech guy? His wife is sick, so he’s staying home to take care of her. I brought my minivan to fit four members, and I figured you could fit three if you still had the Prius from the VICE project.”
“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t just learn you memorized my car model, Mr. Lawson,” I replied, playing it off as a joke but seriously questioning why the hell Rich would remember something like that.
He laughed, not knowing the better, and placed a hand on my shoulder as he motioned to me. “Oh, Y/N, how I missed that smart mouth of yours.”
Before I could throw up all over Rich’s shoes, a series of shouts came from beyond our field of vision, along with some folks running towards the escalators from the terminal to the baggage claim excitedly.
“Willing to bet that’s our documentary subjects, Rich?” I replied to him, turning my head back to the escalator when I saw him.
While Jimin wore a mask over his nose and mouth, his eyes were completely visible to me, and it was clear where he was focusing his attention. Park Jimin was looking right at me as he was moving down the escalator, the yearning in his gaze impossible to miss. He moved with purpose, the group’s security guards holding the fans and miscellaneous paparazzi at bay as the band walked briskly towards where Rich and I stood.
Rich looked at me, an eyebrow curled upward. “Are you a huge fan or something? Why are you looking at them like that?”
I felt myself stiffen in defense, my attention then turning back to the sore reminder of how these next couple of months would be infected with this asshole. “It’s just such a chaotic scene — there hasn’t been any artist with this kind of influence in pop culture history, I’m just taking it in.”
Rich shrugged, scoffing as he rolled his eyes. “Please, it’s just like how teenage girls were passing out over the Beatles and shaving their bodies for One Direction. I won’t lie, I’m not so sure what’s different about these guys.”
It took every ounce of my integrity and self preservation to quell the urge to punch this ignorant, shithead waste of space. Instead of putting my foot squarely up Rich Lawson’s pencil-tight asshole, I looked him right in the eye, a wide, toothy smile spreading across my face.
“They’re different, Mr. Lawson, because they uplift their fans and make them feel like they’re worth something. I think that’s better than anything you’ve contributed to, as of late.”
Rich Lawson’s glare only lasted a few seconds before he saw the band walking toward us. “I don’t appreciate your attitude, Ms. L/N. Shape up, or I’ll see to it that you’re off this project.”
I felt my heart sink to my stomach as I looked back up towards the group, my eyes finding Jimin’s once again — my fears melting away as I could see his eyes form a smile as he made his way over to me. I smiled in his direction, knowing no matter how much of an asshole Rich is, I’ll be able to see Jimin every single day while he’s in Los Angeles. I’ll play nice, because I’m not about to risk losing my career and the chance of being closer to the man I’ve missed so much these last few years.
Rich elbowed my arm, jolting me back to reality for just a moment. “Now, behave when the boys get over here.”
I decided to keep my mouth shut to lower the risk of me saying something I would regret, choosing instead to smile at the global superstars walking towards us.
“Hello, BTS and company! My name is Rich Lawson, the executive producer from Netflix, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Rich said with that fake ass smile he always wore, holding out the sign he made last minute to guide the band members to us. I somehow managed to not roll my eyes, offering a friendly smile and looking at each of the members.
“I’m Y/N L/N, the lead reporter on the documentary. Welcome back to the City of Angels, Bangtan Sonyeondan.” My eyes landed on Jimin’s once again, and I could feel the corners of my mouth tug upwards even more as he looked at me.
Seeing him right in front of me after all these years felt unreal — for so long, I had dreamed of the moment I would finally be able to joke with him in person and hear his contagious laughter fill the room. I knew I would be happy to see Jimin, but the relief I felt when his gaze met mine and I saw him standing in front of me in the flesh?
He was finally here, and all I wanted was to run up to him and tell him just how much I missed his presence these last two years. I would get the chance to once we were both “off the clock” later when he and I planned to go to dinner, but for now, I had to act with professionalism and, in a way, keep a slight distance.
All of the band members nodded, offering kind smiles as the leader — Namjoon — took a step forward, offering his hand. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Namjoon.”
All of the members took turns introducing themselves, and I reinforced each member’s name and face to memory. Granted, I had met Jungkook and Taehyung before, so when they both walked up with a devious, knowing grin, I had to glare at them to give them a hint to play it cool.
Jungkook offered his hand first, an impish glint sparking in his eyes. “JK. Nice to meet you for the very first time ever, Y/N L/N.”
Taehyung stepped up beside me and rolled his eyes at the maknae’s lack of subtlety. “Jungkook, why are you acting like this? We literally know-”
Jimin and I both whipped our heads in Taehyung’s direction, our glares almost perfectly mirroring the other’s. He exchanged a puzzled look between us, and I made an obvious aversion with my eyes in Rich’s direction, trying to send the message that I couldn’t explain with Rich around.
“It’s nice to meet you, JK and Taehyung.” I smirked at them, squeezing Jungkook’s hand almost playfully after shaking his hand as if I hadn’t been to his house before. I turned to Jimin, a playful grin spreading across my lips as I took a step toward him.
“And you must be Jimin,” I held my hand out to shake his hand, offering him a teasing smirk. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Jimin never looked away from me as he took another step closer to me, reaching his hand out to take mine to shake it as if we were meeting for the first time. The warmth of his touch was electric, his fingers grazing the skin over the back of my hand as he tightened his grip to be much firmer than a typical handshake between freshly acquainted strangers. The way Jimin’s fingers brushed over my hand held a level of gentleness I’d never experienced before — and all I wanted was to sink into his arms and claim it as my home for the rest of time.
The way Jimin’s eyes looked down into mine was unlike anything I had ever seen from him. The darkened embers of want in his gaze paired with the tightened grip on my hand felt feral, raw, intense and real, as if he wanted nothing more than to whisk me away and actually be able to have a genuine reunion between the two of us. A reunion where he and I could talk like we always did — to finally see the Jimin I’ve grown to know after that first night together over 12 years ago.
“Trust me, the feeling is more than mutual, jagiya.” His voice was light and airy, yet the weight of his nickname for me hit me square in the chest and made my heart race. He leaned in just slightly, dropping his chin so his mouth was a few inches from my ear so he could talk low enough to where only I could hear. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to finally see you again, Y/N.”
I couldn’t fight the smile growing at Jimin’s whispered confession, my cheeks heating slightly as I continued to shake his hand to give the appearance we were just exchanging niceties.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this sooner-” I started to whisper, Jimin cutting me off with a gentle shush leaving his lips.
“None of that, Y/N, there’s nothing to apologize for.” He offered a smile before pulling away, giving my hand one last reassuring squeeze before stepping back and turning to Rich. I couldn’t help but notice an aura of irritation emanating from Jimin as he stared at Rich, who was schmoozing up to Namjoon as he was the designated leader.
After a few seconds of scowls and threatening glares behind Rich’s back, Namjoon sent a puzzled frown over at Jimin, looking at Rich and then at me. He looked back at Jimin, moving then to speak over Rich, who was recounting a recent golfing trip for some reason.
“Our luggage is right there,” Namjoon pointed at the suitcases moving on the belt, looking between Rich and I as he spoke. “After we get it, why don’t we head back to the house? I think everyone is pretty tired from the day of travel.”
Rich nodded in agreement, smiling away as Namjoon seemed to be worthy of taking control of the situation in his eyes. “Yes, of course. Ms. L/N, could you take the three boys standing with you, and I can take the four over here?”
The man I was pretty sure was Yoongi stepped forward, raising his hand. “Do I have to go with this guy? Is there room in the other car-”
Namjoon and who I remember as Jin elbowed Yoongi in the side, causing him to shut up abruptly. “Thank you so much, Mr. Lawson,” Namjoon offered with a friendly smile, turning to glare at Yoongi for a moment before going back to smiling at Rich. “We’ll go get our bags and then you can take us to your car. Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, are you okay with this-”
“It works for us, hyung.” Jimin interrupted Namjoon, moving to grab Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s arm, lugging them towards the conveyor belt. “You heard our leader, let’s get our bags and we can go to Y/N’s car.”
“Woah, Jimin, hold up-” Taehyung offered, his brow furrowing as Jimin walked him and their junior member to the moving belt.
“Slow your roll, hot stuff, we’re not in a rush for anything,” Jungkook teased as he wiggled his brows, a taunting grin embellishing his mischievous expression.
“Well, I want to get out of my travel clothes,” Jimin replied, moving to tug the two along to get their bags moving through the baggage claim. I moved behind them with the intention of helping them load the luggage trolley so staff could load the van before we head out.
The band’s management said something to Namjoon, and he nodded, turning back to face Jimin. “Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, management are going to load up our stuff into a special van. We can go ahead and head to the house and rest for the rest of the day.”
Switching directions on a whim, Jimin dropped both of his friends’ arms, moving to walk back towards me with his eyes locked onto mine again. “Lead the way, jagiya, we’ll follow you.”
“Jimin is absolutely helpless, isn’t he?” Taehyung sighed, shaking his head as Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“Painfully so,” Jungkook concurred, resulting in Jimin glaring at both of them as I smiled to myself, my hand diving into my tote bag for my car keys.
After fishing my keys out and holding them up as if I had achieved victory in a hard-fought battle, I turned to the trio of men who fell into a casual bickering session and jingled the keys in my hands. “Ready to head out?”
Before a breath could pass, Jimin was in front of me once again, nodding with an authentic, genuine smile which sent my heart into a frenzy — heat rushing to my face once again. “Yeah, let’s go, Y/N.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
We made our way to the parking garage, diverging from Rich and four of the other members — leaving me alone with Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung. Thank fucking god.
I hit the unlock button on the key fob for my Prius, moving to then double click the open trunk button so the boys could put their backpacks in the trunk.
“Do we have to pretend like we don’t know Y/N still, or are we good to cut the schtick?” Jungkook blurted as he threw his bag into the trunk, my eyes rolling as a smirk graced my lips.
“Dick Lawson is gone, so act however you wish, as far as I’m concerned,” I offered with a shrug, leaning against the back tail light as Jungkook and Taehyung worked to organize their belongings.
“I thought his name was Rich?” Taehyung asked, his brow quivering inquisitively in my direction.
“It’s short for Richard, and a nickname for Richard is Dick, which trust me when I say this, suits him all too well,” I offered, my shoulders slumping in slight defeat when thinking about Rich. “This is all said in confidence, I can’t afford for this to get back to him. He’s already threatened to fire me once today.”
Jimin’s eyes shot over to me, anger washing over his features. “He did what?”
I rolled my eyes, shrugging it off. “It’s nothing, really. He was talking shit, and I may have told him he hasn’t really contributed much of anything to the world as of late. Now, I probably shouldn’t have said that to the executive producer, but trust me, he deserved it-”
Jungkook put his hand up, stopping me from speaking. “Dude, you don’t need to explain him away. He literally looks like a slimy greaseball fucked a deformed big toe.”
“Jeon Jungkook, what in the everloving fuck does that mean?” Taehyung asked as Jungkook shrugged in response, Jimin walking towards me until he was just a few inches away.
“Rich Lawson? Like the same Rich Lawson from that VICE project a few years ago?”
I blinked a few times as I processed Jimin’s question. “Yeah, the same guy. You remember that project?”
Jimin nodded, his burning gaze unwavering. “Yeah, you almost quit making documentaries all together because of him. Why are you working with him again?”
I sighed, letting my head fall to the side as I looked down at the ground. “I didn’t really get a choice, he was picked by Netflix, and according to my boss, I was picked because someone at your company requested me specifically. It’s just a crazy twist of fate, I guess.”
Jimin ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek before running his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath before responding again. “I’m sorry you have to deal with him because of me, Y/N.”
“It’s not your fault, Jimin, it’s not like you even knew I was going to be on this project.”
It looked like Jimin wanted to say something else, but Jungkook clapped a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, smiling up with his classic toothy grin. “Trunk is packed, let’s get out of here.”
Jimin nodded, Taehyung and Jungkook opening the rear doors to my car and getting in the back seat, ensuring Jimin could sit up front next to me.
The moment both of the other members shut the car doors, I felt the warmth of Jimin’s palm wrap around my wrist, holding me in place for a moment — just the two of us. Before I could say anything, I was pulled into an almost protective embrace, Jimin bending at the waist to snake his arms around the small of my back for a much overdue hug. Inhaling in his trademark floral, citrusy cologne, I felt myself relax into Jimin’s touch as he held onto me for the first time in over two years.
This hug restored everything within me in a matter of seconds — this is where I felt the safest, and I would be damned if I let work woes get in the way of what mattered most.
“I really meant what I said earlier, Y/N,” Jimin whispered as he rested his cheek on the top of my head, pulling me in just a bit closer. “Everyday I was gone, all I kept thinking about was this…getting back to you, wanting to see your smile and hear about the projects you’re working on. I just…I missed you, Y/N.”
His words struck me speechless, and I looked up at him, emotion flashing in my gaze and some kind of tension raising between us. “Jimin…I missed you, too.”
Before Jimin could say anything else, a soft rumble of voices was coming closer from within the garage, my ears perking up at the sudden interruption. A realization the press may be still following us hits me like a bullet train, and I move into protective mode.
“Let’s get out of here before the paparazzi catches wind of which way we’re heading.”
Jimin nodded, a tender smile breaking out across his lips as he looked down into my eyes, moving then to tuck a stray hair of mine behind my ear. “You got it, my Gongjunim. Let’s get out of here.”
He stepped away and moved to the passenger side, opening the door and plopping down into the seat as I made my way to the driver’s side. I got in the car, closed my door and turned the key in the ignition before buckling my own seatbelt.
“Is everyone buckled in?” I turned my head around to face Jungkook and Tae, who were making themselves more than comfortable in the backseat of my 2012 Prius.
Tae nodded, smiling as Jungkook offered a thumbs up and his own cheesy grin.
“Yes, Eomma, we’re ready,” the maknae kidded as he offered Jimin a smirk, which was met with an eye roll from the third youngest member of BTS before Jimin faced me again.
“Yeah, Y/N, we’re ready to go.”
His hand moved to rest above my right knee as my foot held the brake as I prepped to switch the car’s gears into reverse. I could feel Jimin’s thumb gently caress the soft skin along my lower thigh, grounding me to the moment in a way I couldn’t quite articulate.
Jimin and I had a relationship where we would show platonic affection with physical touch every once in a while — after all, this man was very affectionate with his friends. But in recent years, there was an underlying pull to Jimin I was hesitant to name when I first felt it. Sometimes the allure manifested in hugs lasting a few seconds longer than they should. Other times, it was in intimate actions such as tucking my hair behind my ear, letting me lean on his shoulder or placing a hand on my leg to help ground me when I was overthinking about work.
I looked down at his hand, watching how his thumb gently ran along the outside of my knee and lower thigh and allowed the warmth from the tenderness in his touch to wash over me. Placing one of my hands over the one Jimin had resting on my knee, I looked up to him, smiling bright as I moved to shift the car into reverse.
“Let’s get you guys to the rental.”
As I pulled out of the parking deck and drove towards the address Jimin typed into my phone, he never once moved his hand from my leg, and truth be told, I didn’t want him to.
So as we drove through the hellscape that is rush hour traffic in Los Angeles, I cherished the soft, silent moments in the solace and safety of my Prius with Jimin and my other friends before the inevitable pandemonium to come in the next few months.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
bitches i am already working on chapter 7, im on a ROLL!!! we're going back to the past in the next chapter, so prepare to see more of baby Jimin and Y/N hehehe
taglist: @labbbaaa @graydolan12 @jooniesthigh @rubyybabyy @soffiyuhh @goawaysha @granataepfelchen
please let me know if you want to get on the taglist for this fic and/or future works i will add you!! much love <3
This fic has made up my whole week!! It’s so brilliant and the plot is so unique! I’m looking forward to all following chapters. It’s been four long years of no BTS fics and this is a great way to break the ice again!
here with you → pjm
♢ Pairing: Jimin x non-famous!reader → idol au
♢ Word count: 3.6k
♢ Genre: fluff, romance, comfort, established relationship, insecurities
⌲ Description: after a long day at work, you come home tired and full of quiet insecurities. Jimin, back in his busy idol life, notices anyway.
m a s t e r l i s t
feels so weird reblogging on this account but here i am! loved this, it was exactly what i was looking for. i saw the boys in tampa and now i’m itching to read bts fanfics again. it’s been like four years for me, like no joke!!
Kevin the Kitten and Satan the Cat 🖤 Artist: 📸@vanessastockard
some yoongi gifs until he comes back home (6/?)
cr.jung-koook
WASH YOUR WORRIES AWAY
pairing: opla!buggy the clown x reader
word count: 2.8k
warnings: 18+, cursing, oral (male receiving), p in v, honestly this one is pretty tame but it's cute <3
a/n: hi hi hi! im back with my bullshit! no but this one is really fucking sweet (maybe a tad cheesy at the end). i had the idea for a while so i was really happy to see that he people of tumblr voted for this choice on the poll.
i started this being super naughty with sanji and zoro and now look at me being a doll with buggy and mihawk (which is strange cause they can easily be the kinkiest mfs).
so i think im gonna write another oneshot for buggy in the near future. maybe one for nami and then i'm gonna go back and write the third part for the sanji x reader x zoro. that's gonna be real fucking interesting. it'll be my first time writing a threesome so wish me luck!
thank you guys for reading and putting up with my wild imagination!!
(as always my psa that this is solely based on the live action)
Buggy the Clown stomps into the Jolly Roger angrily. His crew is nowhere to be found on the empty deck. He expected them to be awake, running around, making plans to get their Captain back. Instead, they are snoozing in the rooms of his ship, shielding themselves from the cold ocean breeze.
Buggy mutters insults towards his freaks under his breath. The lot of them should freeze for all he cares. The fishmen kidnapped him, and all they're doing is getting their fucking beauty sleep. He's starting to believe he wasn't missed.
He beelines to the Captain's quarters, where he finds a pretty sight welcoming him. You're on his side of the bed, peacefully asleep. Buggy intentionally slams the door behind him, rudely waking you up from your slumber.
You jump at the bang and sit up, looking alarmed at the intrusion. "Buggy!" You gasp, relieved to see him, "You're back!"
You and the freaks have been working nonstop on keeping the ship afloat and searching for its Captain. You've barely rested in weeks, tracking down Arlong and his crew.
Today, you finally found the location of Arlong Park and set sail. You stopped an island away to let the freaks rest before marching into battle. They will need it to beat the fishmen or at least make enough damage to get Buggy out.
"No thanks to you and my useless crew," Buggy bites, throwing his coat to the side dramatically. At least his theatrics were not hurt while he was away.
You stand from the bed and approach him softly. He's like a wounded animal that might bolt at any second.
"That's not fair. You know we were on our way," you softly say, feeling bad about his harsh tone. Buggy loves to tease you and push your buttons, but it's not often he's genuinely angry at you.
"Taking your sweet ass time, it seems," he cries out, gesturing at the door as if referring to his sleeping crew.
You let it go and decide not to continue arguing. He's physically and emotionally wounded. Not to mention his ego. You stand centimeters away and grab his gloved hand, "Let me make it up to you, Bugs."
Being this close, you can assess his appearance closely. His makeup is smeared more than usual; it's faded on some parts as his blue stubble breaks through the white face paint, and his eyes look defeated.
"Yeah, make it up to me. Let's see what you come up with," he says sarcastically, letting your hand fall from his grasp. His words might drip with sarcasm, but they are a plea for help in disguise. So you pay him no mind, knowing that by the end of the night, you'll have him like putty in your hands. Only to rebuild him back into the Buggy the Clown you know and love and the Marines fear.
"I'll be right back." You tell him, leaving the room momentarily. You return minutes later with a freak who pushes a wooden tub behind you with steaming water. The freak barely spares a glance at Buggy, scared that the clown might lash out at him.
Closing the door once he leaves, you prepare the water with oils and fragrances. Buggy watches from afar, sitting on the wooden chair he has in his room. He's used to hunching on it for hours, examining his maps, and executing master plans for the next big adventure. He likes looking over his shoulder to watch you sleep peacefully as insomnia grabs hold of him. It brings him peace.
"Come 'ere, Bugs," you say, grabbing his hand to help him up. Buggy grumbles in protest despite looking forward to the bath. "Let me take care of you," you whisper, looking up at him. You place your hand on his chest in comfort.
"I don't need you to take care of me. I'm a grown ass man," Buggy gruffs out, avoiding your gaze. It's not like he's felt like a man in the past few weeks as he's been carried around in a sac as a mere head while his body was beaten constantly by the fishmen. It was degrading and made him feel extremely weak.
You roll your eyes at him but play along, "You're right. You are a grown, strong man. Will you indulge me, though? It'll make me feel better seeing you're okay."
Buggy finally meets your eyes and nods, "For you."
There's no reason for him to say no. You're the person that knows him best in this world. You probably know what he's feeling without him telling you in the first place. Still, he acts difficult because he's bratty like that and because sometimes he has a hard time understanding you're there for him no matter what, with no ulterior motive.
You softly smile at him and pat his chest. Your hands trail up to the scarf tied around his neck, and your fingers swiftly undo the knot. You throw it on the bed as you continue down his chest, reaching the buttons of his vest.
Buggy watches you closely as you concentrate on undoing the buttons. Your touch never lifts from his skin for more than a second, granting him the pleasure of feeling your soothing touch after many weeks.
The vest falls on the floor as you push it back over his shoulders. Fingertips tickle his arm as you reach his hand to take off one of his gloves. Your eyes timidly meet his as you plant a small kiss on his palm.
Before he met you, he never thought such a minuscule action could mean so much. Now, he craves it often. It's your way of saying 'I love you,' seeing as Buggy is not good with words. You give him options to show his love, and that's priceless to him.
Your curious eyes have already taken in all his bruises and minor cuts. There's no doubt Arlong's men had been beating him up. You don't bring them up, knowing Buggy will close up again. He'll talk when he's ready.
You kneel on the floor, helping him off his boots, and quickly after, you get rid of his pants, too. You guide a butt-naked Buggy to the tub, ordering him to get in.
"Ohh," Buggy bites back a moan as the warm water soothes his aching muscles. The smell of eucalyptus wafts up to his nose. It's his favorite scent because it's the one you used when you met.
"Would you like me to wash your hair?" You ask him, untying the knot on his head scarf.
"You said you were gonna take care of me. Do whatever you want, sweet cheeks," he knows you've already made your decision, as his hair is already down before he can respond. You beam at the nickname, knowing your Buggy is softening up.
His bright blue hair falls down his back and into the water. Grabbing a jug, you fill it with water and softly tell Buggy to tilt his head back. The water cascades down his head, wetting his hair and turning it a beautiful deep teal.
Buggy opens his eyes and sees your calm expression as you concentrate on not getting any water on his face. A small fraction of his anger chips away, seeing how much you care for him. Only you'd know he hates the feeling of water pouring down his face.
You grab oils from your selection and brush them through his hair, ridding him of any sand and grime stuck in it. Buggy involuntarily closes his eyes as you massage his scalp with the tip of your fingers. A mixture of a sigh and moan falls from his lips.
When his hair is clean and untangled, you grab the bar of soap and a sponge to clean his body. Your eyes are attentive to any bruise or cut, careful not to hurt him any more than he is.
You notice his neck is quite stiff as you spread the soap suds across his back, so you spend some time massaging the area. You dig your thumbs into the tension knots, causing Buggy to become more vocal, groaning and moaning whenever you hit a spot that needs extra care.
Moving to kneel beside the tub, you wash his chest and stomach. Buggy simply stares as you focus on getting every speck of dirt off of him. Any other day, he'd be making you laugh and throwing inappropriate jokes, but the time didn't seem right to him. So, he kept quiet and observed how you tried to hide your grimaces whenever you encountered a nasty bruise.
You massage his knees when you get to his legs because you know they hurt. Buggy might not complain about any pain, but you know the chop chop fruit makes his joints ache when he uses his abilities.
As the dirt is washed away from his body, so does his anger. He's sure that by the end of the bath, he won't be any better than a harmless puppy, and that's all you wanted. Buggy needs to let go of the anger he harbors inside so he can come back stronger than ever and lead the crew to its next adventure, whatever that may be.
You leave his face for last. You're the only person on earth who has the honor and pleasure of cleaning his face free of its makeup. Carefully, you wipe away with a rag the grease paint covering his handsome face. There's layer upon layer of paint staining his skin. A splash of blue over his eyes, red on the corner of his lips, white on his hairline. You wipe away each layer until you're able to see your Buggy. Not Buggy the Clown.
"There you are," you smile, cupping his face. Buggy's hand comes up to encase yours to simply kiss your palm. Beautiful blue eyes stare back at you shyly. Without all the makeup, he tends to feel more self-conscious about his nose.
"You know I was coming for you, right?" You ask him to make it clear you never intended to abandon him.
"I know, Princess," he says, leaning further into your touch. Your thumb brushes over his stubble before you pull back your hand. A soft protest leaves him.
"Let's get you out," you murmur, helping him out of the bath. You tell him to stay where he is as you fetch the towel.
Once you start something, you have to finish it. With the same love and care, you dry Buggy's body, kissing his bruises as you go along. You get on your knees to dry his legs as well.
It's a very intimate position you're in. Buggy's manhood is right in front of your face. He's looking down with hooded eyes, waiting for your next move. He'll go as far as you want to go tonight.
Having him away for so long, you can't resist kissing around his pubic bone. You avoid touching his cock for now as you tease him, looking up at him innocently.
His length begins to harden as you keep brushing your lips all around his thighs and pubic area, but not where he needs to feel you most. You notice his fists clenching as he holds back from grabbing your head and placing it exactly where he wants.
Finally, your lips kiss his length, all the way from the base to the tip. That alone gets all of his blood to surge down to his cock. You continue this torturous pace for too long, teasing the tip of his cock with your tongue.
"Fuck, Princess," Buggy groans, looking into your eyes.
He's tired. He's been away for weeks. Despite wanting to fall on his bed and die for the next ten hours, his need to have you wins out. So, with the energy boost you gave him with the bath, he grabs your arm and pulls you up.
There will be time for you to suck his cock another time. Now, he needs to feel you as close as humanly possible. Buggy grabs your face and presses his lips against yours.
He kisses you deeply and sloppily, tasting your minty lip balm. He hunches over you as you lean back, overwhelmed by the sudden display of affection. Kissing him back just as fiercely as your arms wrap around his sides, pulling yourself closer.
His hand leaves your cheek to tug on the strings of your night dress and push it off your shoulders. The falling fabric tickles your skin as you're left just as exposed as he is.
Buggy grips your breasts, your sides, your thighs, and your ass. All to feel you so fucking close to him. He doesn't care if he's suffocated by you. After weeks of being tortured, all he wants is to feel your soft, caring touch.
You push Buggy back into the bed, and you tumble down with him as his hold on you is unrelenting. You won't be leaving his side tonight. Buggy sits in the center of the bed with you on his lap, grinding against his length.
"Fucking adore you," Buggy breathes, digging his head on your shoulder to leave kisses there, "and the way you take care of me."
"I'll always take care of you, Buggy," you tell him, cupping his jaw so you can look into his eyes, "You're mine. I gotta take care of what's mine, okay?"
A whine comes out of him as he nods at your words. He kisses your palm again, telling you everything you need to know. Buggy leans his forehead against yours. Something he had to get used to at the beginning due to the fact your noses also touch, but right now, it's the farthest thing on his mind. Having you close is his number one priority.
You line his cock with your entrance and slowly sink into it. You watch Buggy's face contort into one of pleasure as his mouth slightly gapes and his eyebrows furrow. You start bouncing softly, being mindful to be gentle with his aching body. Meanwhile, he grabs into your hips, helping you along, his fingers digging into you, afraid this is all a dream, and you'll go away.
There's no way this is a dream. You feel too warm and tight around him for it not to be real.
Buggy's arms encase your body as he pulls you flush against him. Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. It doesn't matter that it makes it harder for you to move on top of him. Buggy drags his short nails down your back, relishing the heat of your skin. It's not with the intent to hurt but to feel you close.
You keep your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots just how he likes it. You've resorted to grinding on his lap, as that's how much movement he allows you. His eyes bore into yours, depicting so many emotions he can't begin to comprehend, much less talk about. But it's enough for the two of you.
You peck his lips and ask, "You doing okay?"
Buggy nods and whispers, "I'm doing fucking perfect." He steals a kiss and another and another. Each kiss you let him steal gets progressively longer until he has his tongue in your mouth, tasting you.
The grind of your hips is enough to bring him to the edge. With a warning to your lips, Buggy spills inside of you. He revels in the level of closeness that brings. You play with his hair as he rests his head on your chest, catching his breath.
You need not say anything. It's a moment of vulnerability, and you let him have it. Buggy is resetting and pulling himself together back to the person he usually is.
That night, you sleep naked with Buggy basically on top of you. His head rests on your chest as he falls asleep listening to your heartbeat, and you hold him all throughout the night.
Except, when you wake up, he's gone. As your senses fully wake up, you notice the boat rocking. You've already set sail. Quickly, you get ready and go out onto the deck.
"About time you woke up, Sweet Cheeks!" Buggy yells from the helm, standing by the ship's wheel. The sun beams on Buggy's face, the familiar makeup freshly painted on his face. "It's time to get to work. I have some pirates to deal with."
"Yes, Captain!" You say, which earns you a sneaky wink from Buggy. With a soft laugh, you shake your head and walk through the ship to help the freaks with whatever they might need.
With you by his side, there is nothing Buggy can't overcome.
WELCOME HOME
MASTERLIST
pairing: opla!mihawk x reader
word count: 3.2k
warnings: 18+, swearing, smut, slight knife play, oral (female receiving), p in v, slight breeding kink
a/n: i got carried away with the fluff at the end. as much as i love smut i also love some domestic ass fluff which is very clear here lol.
i started this a while ago but got busy and only managed to finish it today! next up i’ve got buggy. i actually have two ideas for him. both have smut but the premise is so different lol. let’s just say one has a prominent daddy kink.
this might be very ooc! mihawk, again i’ve only watched the live action. i would like to start the anime but those 1,000 episodes are intimidating to say the least.
Working for the Marines proved to be useful for Mihawk. His bounty was canceled, and he got to travel and get up to shenanigans that would otherwise bring him trouble.
Mihawk gets to strike pirate after pirate, which benefits him greatly. It gives him the opportunity to search for the one meant to surpass him while getting paid. No one has come close to beating him yet.
After another tedious mission, Mihawk returns home. He opens the grand doors of his castle and leaves his hat and coat by the door. He silently goes deep into the castle and into his bedroom, unhooking Yoru from his back and placing it by the bed.
He removes his boots and pants while keeping his eyes on the figure sprawled on the bed. His dear wife sleeps peacefully on her stomach, her hair casting a halo on the white pillows.
He tries his hardest not to wake you, but you groggily open your eyes as he lays on the bed. He stares back at you apologetically, kissing the back of your head.
"You're back," you sigh, closing your eyes again. Your muscles relax when you see it's your husband who has returned from his latest mission.
Normally, you'd greet him much more enthusiastically. However, the sky outside is still a deep shade of blue, the stars twinkling brightly to shine some light on the otherwise dark room. And you have had a long, exhausting day that is pulling you back to sleep.
"Just got back," he responds softly. His eyes trace over your exposed figure. It's a warm summer night if the sheets crumpled by the end of the bed are any indication.
He was away longer than he expected. It's times like these that he resents his agreement with the Marines. He will resent anything that keeps you away from him. He would take you with him if your circumstances were different, but it's too dangerous.
You suddenly feel his touch on your back, but pay him no mind as sleep threatens to take you away once more. Mihawk traces your exposed skin with his small blade Kogatana. He likes seeing two of his priced possessions in his grasp.
He'd never dare cut you with it. That's reserved for his enemies. Enemies who would be scared by the mere sight of Mihawk, but you simply melt under his gaze without a worry in the world. The touch of the cold blade familiar and comforting.
"Don't you dare cut through my clothes again, Mihawk," you suddenly threaten when he glides the blade over your night dress. You might be safe from the sharpness of his blades, but your clothes never are.
"Or what?" he asks, lifting your silky nightgown with the blade. Just a bit more tension, and it will cut through the fabric. There's an unmistakable smile on his handsome face.
"Fuck around and find out," you groan, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. Deep down, you know you're not getting any rest anytime soon. Mihawk is clearly in a particular mood.
"Is this how you receive me? With empty threats?" Mihawk teases you. He follows it with a "Tsk, I expected more from you."
"My love, it's four in the morning. My brain isn't working properly, but rest assured it'll come up with something by morning," you huff, burying your face on the pillow.
"I'm dying to find out what you come up with. In the meantime, I'll fuck around." Mihawk says with a tone that warns you he's up to no good.
In an instant, you hear the blade ripping through the material of your nightgown. The cut is clean and precise, exposing your skin to the room's humid air.
"Mihawk!" You groan, annoyed but far from surprised. Another piece of clothing ruined by Kogatana. Add it to the tally.
"Screaming my name already? I've barely touched you," Mihawk chuckles, amused at his joke. He traces his lips down your spine, pressing kisses along the curve of your back.
"Idiot…" you mumble with a small grin. You prop yourself up on your elbows, still on your stomach, looking at your husband over your shoulder.
"All yours, darling," he responds cheekily, biting down on your exposed ass cheek.
"Hey!" You giggle, wiggling under his hold. Mihawk pins you down with his body as he comes back up.
Mihawk brushes your hair over one of your shoulders to dig his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse point. You smile at this, having missed his touch like the familiar scrape of his beard on your skin.
Mihawk gives you enough space to turn around in his grasp. You cup his face and say, "I missed you. A few more days and I would've gone out in search of you." Your thumbs mindlessly rub over his jaw. No matter how much he cuts through your clothes, you love him.
Your actions bring him comfort as he leans into your touch, "My apologies. Will you allow me to make it up to you?"
You pretend to think as he stares you down. His gaze is soft and loving and filled with playfulness. Playfulness that is reserved only for you. "It's the least you can do," you finally respond, touching his lips.
Mihawk closes the gap in an instant, kissing you senseless. He groans into the kiss as he deepens it, his tongue swiping your lips to gain entrance. He grabs your thigh, wrapping it around his waist to have you closer.
Your arms wrap around his back, scratching his skin with your nails as you pull yourself closer. Mihawk's hand comes up to your chest, pulling on the tattered fabric of your nightgown, successfully throwing it somewhere in the room.
"Don't forget you owe me another nightgown," you breathe as Mihawk kisses down your body.
"And a blouse, a skirt, a dress, and many the undergarments. But who is keeping track?" Mihawk says. He's settled between your thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses down your soft stomach.
You prop yourself up to watch him delve lower and lower down your body. He searches for your gaze when he reaches your mound, where he places a small kiss. "I'd much prefer you sleep naked. We can sleep skin to skin."
You smile and shake your head at him, biting your lip in anticipation. "What of the nights you're gone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.
Mihawk's strong hands grasp your thighs, pulling them open. Maintaining eye contact, he traces his lips over the inside of your thighs, not quite kissing them. His facial hair tickles you and leaves goosebumps in its wake.
Not one to lose an argument, he responds, "More of a reason to stay naked. Makes it easier to touch yourself while you think of me," he purrs. You feel his breath where you need him most.
As you open your mouth to reply with a snarky comment, Mihawk takes his chance. His tongue licks up your slit, tasting you for the first time in weeks.
"Ohh."
Mihawk eats you out like a starved man lost at sea for months. His tongue licks and flicks over your clit repeatedly as his lips wrap around it to suck. You fall back on the bed with your fingers digging into his curls, pulling on them. It only spurs him on as his hips involuntarily thrust into the mattress. Pleasing you turns him on.
"I missed this cunt," he lewdly moans as he kisses the inside of your thigh, lightly biting the area.
"Mihawk," you whine, turning red-faced by his crude words.
He mimics your tone, saying your name. Your ankle digs into his back in response. He's far from hurt as he laughs into your thigh. Having had a taste, he slows it down, taking his time. Enjoying everything about you.
He spreads your lips apart, exposing your pink center to him. Strings of arousal cover you, giving your cunt a pretty sheen. You're easily embarrassed by Mihawk's actions, but your whines do nothing to stop him.
"Fucking beautiful," he purrs, thumb circling over your exposed clit.
Your fingers card through his curls, pulling them back to watch his lustful expression. No one has ever made you feel as desired as Mihawk has.
Soft breaths fall from you as you feel Mihawk's warm tongue gather the slick from your entrance. He gets lost in his pleasure as his fingers dig into your thighs. Obscene wet noises coming from his mouth, mixing with the staccato of your moans.
Each flick of his tongue gets you higher and higher, your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure. You whine as you get closer to your peak, small warnings Mihawk doesn't need as he's learned what each of your tells are. He's adamant about making you cum on his tongue.
It's a matter of time until he feels your legs squeezing his head and your hips bucking into him. Your back arching follows soon after as a loud cry escapes your lips.
Mihawk licks his lips, satisfied, as he pulls slightly away from you. The twitching of your cunt is not missed by his hawk eyes. He presses his palm against your center, easing you down from your high.
He crawls back up your body, kissing your nipples on his way up. You swat him away gently, feeling sensitive.
"My beautiful wife," he says once he's face to face. In his eyes, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. Your skin shines prettily with the afterglow of an orgasm.
"What's gotten into you?" You giggle, giving him exactly what he was looking for. Your smile.
"Can't a man miss his wife?" He asks, nudging your cheek with his nose as he sporadically leaves kisses on your face.
He did miss you, but he's also extremely pussydrunk. Going down on you does as much to him as it does to you, judging by the hard on pressing against your lower stomach.
"He can..." You smile, wrapping your arms around him to caress his back. "Just how much did you miss me?"
You feel his laugh in your ear as he catches your suggestive tone. Nonetheless, he whispers, "I missed you like the sun and moon miss each other."
"You're cheesy," you say, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him flush against you. His cock is between the two of you, a bead of pre dripping onto your skin.
"Don't tell anyone. Or else my reputation be ruined." Mihawk says, pressing his forehead against yours.
"It's our secret," you whisper in response with a kiss on his waiting lips.
Hiking your leg further up his body Mihawk lines himself up and pushes his cock into you. You gasp into the kiss as he fills you up until he bottoms out.
He always starts slow. The drag of your walls against his cock is a memory he never wishes to forget. He swears your cunt feels better each time he has the pleasure of being buried inside you.
His thrusts are slow but deep. He keeps a hand on your leg that's hiked up around his waist while he holds himself up with the other. The way you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes is his favorite sight in the whole wide world. Your soft gasps and cries are a symphony of their own, especially mixed with his own.
His slower pace only lasts so long as he gets lost in the way your cunt chokes his cock. He wants more. He needs more.
His resolve quickly disappears as he picks himself up to kneel on the bed. He easily pulls you closer as you slide down the bed with a yelp. His cock always inside of you.
Mihawk presses your legs up to your chest, grabbing a discarded pillow to place under your ass.
"Much better," he mutters as his hips buck against you tentatively.
"Yeah, 'cause you're not the one folded in half," you begin saying as he snaps his hips, which turns into a moan. The new angle brings tears to your eyes. The tip of his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars.
"Don't deny it. You like when I manhandle you," he gruffs, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He further presses against the back of your thighs as he looks down when you both meet. His cock wet with both of your juices.
"I'm. Not." You pant between each one of his jerks. You leave it at that, closing your eyes to focus on the sparks of pleasure.
This is Mihawk's favorite position just because of the visual standpoint. He's in total control and gets to gauge your body's reactions.
Your scrunched up eyes as you concentrate on following your release. The biting of your lips to try and remain quiet, yet whimpers betray you. Your chest bouncing pulls him into another trance as he watches your skin blushing and your nipples hardening.
Your eyes squint open as you bring your hand down to your lower abdomen, where you say, "Feel you right here, Mihawk."
Mihawk mutters a curse under his breath. He places his hand on top of yours and asks, "Want me to cum right here too, darling?"
His moves become sharper and more precise as he bullies that spot inside you. "yes. yes. yes. Fill me up, my love," you cry out.
It's all becoming too much for you. You bring your arm up to bite on it and muffle your moans, but he still manages to coax out your voice. Your moans remain a secret in the night, heard only by Mihawk.
It's fucking glorious the way your cunt squeezes his cock when you reach your climax. The rhythmic pulses of your high urging him to continue pushing into you. You try to push him away to get him to go slower, your hands only managing to caress his abdomen before he pins them down.
He is in total control. He just needs a bit more from you. You can take it. You've done it before. Your legs shake both in exhaustion and rapture. His pace is steady as he feeds into that feeling that tightens his balls.
His hands turn to lace his fingers through yours. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. With hooded eyes, you watch your husband in all his glory. Trickles of sweat fall down his strong chest, and his curls are a mess atop his head. It all makes him look like a work of art.
Once more, the familiar sensation of pure euphoria washes over you, and it's enough to push Mihawk to reach that place as well. He stills inside you, his hands squeezing yours as he empties himself inside you, just like he promised.
With your hands on his hold, he brings them to his lips to kiss your palms. He follows the path down your arm until he buries his head on your shoulder. He lies there, almost crushing you under his weight, breathing you in. You wrap your arms around him, enjoying the closeness and rubbing your hands up and down his muscular back, rubbing the spots with the most tension from carrying Yoru around.
You talk in hushed whispers as you gain back your energy. It's a hard task, considering you were woken up in the middle of the night, and Mihawk probably hasn't slept in more than 24 hours.
Hours later, you feel the hard patter of footsteps nearing your bedroom. You sit up, preparing yourself despite Mihawk's heavy arm threatening to pull you back down into his embrace.
The door to your bedroom is slammed open with a bang barely second after you manage to slip on your robe.
"Wake up, wake up, it's morning!" Your loud, curly-haired boys scream as they run around the room with wooden swords.
"What's all this ruckus about?" Mihawk groans. Both boys freeze, noticing the other figure sitting up on the bed, "Papa!"
"There are my brats," Mihawk huffs as they let the swords clatter to the ground to climb the bed and throw themselves at him, "I missed the two of you," he says, hugging them and kissing their heads.
You stare lovingly at the scene in front of you. The twins were a result of your honeymoon with Mihawk. Fruits of your love, if you will.
The five-year-olds are the spitting image of their father. Kind reminders of him whenever Mihawk has to go out on a mission.
"Missed you too, Papa."
"I want some snuggles, too!" You exclaim, grabbing the twin closest to you and placing him on your lap to kiss and snuggle. He squirms and laughs as you tickle his belly.
The twins celebrate their dad's back as they cling and climb over him. You let them do as they please, considering it has been you who they've clung to for the past couple of weeks.
"Mama is sick," one of them blurts out to Mihawk, causing you to freeze.
"Mhm, Mama called the doctor to make her better!" The other echoes as you pull him to your lap to shush him.
Mihawk narrows his eyes at you as he listens to the twins ramble. You throw him a sheepish smile and quickly look down at your son, brushing his unruly curls to avoid his gaze.
"Well, Papa is home now. I'll take good care of Mama," Mihawk reassures them. "Why don't the two of you go to the kitchen and gather the ingredients for your favorite?'
"Really?" They ask in unison with excited smiles.
"Absolutely," Mihawk says just as excited, ushering the boys out of the room. As soon as they run out, he turns to you with a raised eyebrow, "Not that I'm a doctor, but you didn't seem sick a while ago."
"I didn't?" You ask incredulously, standing from the bed to sit on the vanity.
Mihawk follows you, knowing you're trying to avoid the conversation. He calls your name, kneeling down on the floor by your seat. "Why did you call the doctor?"
You sigh, mustering the courage to tell him the news. You face him as he settles between your legs. He grabs your hand and places a kiss on the back of it, giving you the courage to tell him.
"We're having another baby," you smile at him, squeezing his hand.
"You're happy?" Mihawk is ecstatic, to say the least, but he recognizes how hard your pregnancy with the twins had been. So, he toned it down for the moment.
"I'm happy," you nod, allowing him the joy of having another kid. It's been six years, and you're ready for another baby. Besides, the boys are growing up so fast that they aren't babies anymore.
Mihawk hugs you from his kneeling position, digging his head into your stomach, "You think we'll have a girl?"
"I have my fingers crossed. There's too much testosterone in this castle. One thing is for sure though, it's the last one," you tell him, kissing his head.
"Come on, darling. We have more space for two or three more..."
You roll your eyes at him and gently push him away, reminding him he has two hyperactive boys downstairs waiting for him.
This is pure gold!
thank you! ‘welcome home’ is one of my favorite oneshots i’ve written!! im happy others are enjoying it just as much :D
I haven't abandoned this story. I just put it on the back burner for now. The story is just on a small vacation. It is currently out of office. It can't come to the phone right now. It just fell under my bed to sleep with the monsters. It never left my head. It is everywhere - except on paper.
baby ☹️🤍