A/n: I don’t know if she wants to be tagged but this is a commission for a lovely friend of mine. I hope she likes it.
Summary: You’re fine with just being friends with Taehyung....until you get the text, that is.
Warnings: Jealousy, possessiveness, vaginal fingering, mentions of sex, a little filth, a little feelings, reader;’s friend is me but listen it was a specific request
Word Count: 2094
The text you receive from the man you've had an on again off again sexual relationship with for months is a peculiar one, as they go.
You've gotten a few interesting ones over the past few months, some nearly incoherent when he'd gone out with friends, but they'd all had a common thread: sex.
Although you'd entertained the idea of something more, especially in the beginning, after time when he'd never seemed to want anything more, leaving early in the morning after a night together and maybe a couple breakfasts or lunches, never anything that could be considered a date.
You're not even friends, exactly, more like... acquaintances with benefits.
You're fine with that. You really are. Mostly.
Maybe sometimes you watch the line of his jaw when he's sleeping, count the eyelashes across his cheekbones, but in your defense, he's ridiculously handsome. Taehyung is friendly and affectionate after sex and before, but he's that way with everyone, all his friends and even acquaintances that he's fond of, you know it doesn't mean anything.
Does your heart skip a beat when he calls you jagiya casually, when he catches your waist as you walk by, presses his face into your stomach and hugs you? Maybe.
But it isn't what that smallest part of you hopes it could be, and you've accepted it. You think.
Until you get the text.
When you get it, you're not even thinking about him. In fact, you haven't thought about him almost all night, ever since your friend introduced you to her new boyfriend's best friend.
She's been single longer than you have, and you're shocked when she abruptly changes her status on Facebook to "in a relationship" with pierced Im Changkyun, a man she'd brushed off as being "young and dumb but wicked hot" when she's first started sleeping with him.
A month later at her birthday party, she's all heart eyes and goofy smile and she still calls him dumb but with the softest voice.
"You're in love," you say to her, dumbfounded, when she beckons you into the kitchen to help her open the fifth bottle of wine at her party.
"I know, it's so fucking gross," she says cheerfully, leaned over to grab a bottle of red.
"I'm happy for you," you say, and you try to mean it, you really do.
She chuckles as she opens it. "You hate me a little, and that's valid. But listen. He has a friend-"
"No." You say firmly, and she continues like you've said nothing and you put your hand over her mouth to stop you.
"Y/n, he has dimples," she continues, muffled, and you slowly drop your hand.
"Go on."
"He'll be here in a bit, he's so much fun, he's a Libra-"
"You know I don't know what that means," you sigh, exasperated.
"You're gonna love him, trust me."
"I'm still kinda-"
She holds up a hand. "Do not say you're still seeing that adorable fuckboy, he's so pretty but he's never gonna be your boyfriend, babe."
"I don't want him to be my boyfriend."
"Oh so we're lying? Is that what we're doing?"
You roll your eyes and drink half a glass of wine.
You're considerably buzzed after another glass when he shows up and boy she was right, he really does have dimples.
When you introduce himself, he smiles and you almost drop your wineglass.
"Jooheon. But you can call me honey." He winks at you and you wonder if this is what she means by Libra.
He's charming and funny and man, those dimples and for once, Taehyung isn't even in your thoughts.
Them your phone dings and you absent mindedly check it.
Taehyung: You got a boyfriend now?
Oh. Oh. That's new. Not the text itself, you've gotten texts like that from other men, ones who were a bit territorial, and on its own, you know it doesn't mean anything.
But from Taehyung?
Not once in all the time you'd known him had he been territorial or jealous in any way. You'd gone out to clubs together and you'd danced and flirted right in front of him and he hadn't batted an eye, even later when you ended up in bed together.
Your eyes dart around the room and when you see him, he's watching you with dark, half lidded eyes on your friend's loveseat. Not surrounded by people, like usual. Alone, wearing this white button up that's half unbuttoned and an empty wineglass in front of him. He looks a bit rumpled in a way you haven't seen him look, maybe even drunk.
He doesn't react when you lock eyes, face passive, but something's different.
"Y/n?"
Jooheon's voice brings your attention back, and his brow is a bit furrowed.
"You okay?"
"Good," you choke out. "I'm good. Just...work," you lie.
Instead of texting him back, you pointedly put your phone in your lap and go back to texting Jooheon.
In less than ten minutes, you hear your phone ding twice more, and you can't help the thrill that races through you.
Jooheon looks down at your phone during a lull in conversation.
You smile. "I'll just check. It's like they can't live without me."
Taehyung: Just curious. And then, three minutes later: You ignoring me now?
You feel oddly victorious and powerful. You text back quickly: I'm a little busy.
You see him on his phone in your peripheral vision, see him sit up, shoulders stiffening, but you stay focused on Jooheon, talking a bit more about your work and he's listening actively, leaned forward toward you.
He's asking you what you like to do in your free time and you feel a little thrill at the prospect of him asking you out and that makes you feel a bit better about things.
It isn't as if you can't be attracted to anyone else but Taehyung, it turns out, just that you hadn't focused on anyone else since you'd met.
Your phone goes off once more and you check it after a moment, trying to appear nonchalant.
Taehyung: You think he can make you cum like I can?
You feel a jolt of heat down your spine. Well, that's an escalation. It's cocky, though, and as much as it turns you on it kind of pisses you off, too, so you text back: Guess I'll see.
You put your phone back in your lap and lean forward to put your hand on Jooheon's knee.
"Sorry," you apologize.
Jooheon smiles at you and puts his hand over yours. "No worries."
He is awfully handsome, and it's easy enough to fall back into conversation with him.
Jooheon is distracted by someone coming up to speak to him, and you can't help your gaze going back to Taehyung. He's slumped back against the couch now, glass of wine magically refilled, and he's still staring at you, blank faced, but instead of half lidded like before his eyes seem bigger, somehow, wide and darker than usual.
It's intense, that look, and not one you've seen before unless he was fucking you, looking down into your eyes in that intimate way he had.
Your phone dings again and you look right away, unable to wait now that you weren't distracted by Jooheon.
Taehyung: I didn't like seeing you touch him.
Your heart seizes in your chest and suddenly it's not as fun anymore. You're thinking about what it all means and having to think about how you actually feel and....
You're staring at your phone and thinking of how to respond to that when Jooheon touches your hand.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, and you nod, swallowing hard.
"I need a refill," you say, and when he raises an eyebrow at your half full glass, you gulp it down. "Be right back."
Before he can offer to refill it for you, you stand and bolt for the kitchen, running from the way you can feel Taehyung's eyes on your back and the way your real feelings seem to be rising in your throat.
Half of you hopes your friend is in the kitchen so you'll have someone to bounce this off of, but it's empty and you sit your glass on the counter, taking in a deep breath.
When you hear footsteps you stand up straight, and you hear him before you turn around, his tone calm and steady, like always.
"You didn't mean that, did you?"
You close your eyes, turning to face Taehyung, bracing your hands behind you on the counter.
"Mean what?"
He takes a step toward you and you brace down harder on the counter, willing your heart to stop racing.
You really wish he wouldn't look at you like that, somehow passive and hungry at the same time, you've never met a man so difficult to read.
"When you said, 'Guess I'll see.' You didn't mean that." It's not a question, this time. He takes another step closer.
"Who says I didn't mean it?" Your voice sounds stronger than you feel.
Taehyung swallows visibly. "I do."
This time, he doesn't sound so sure, and it does something to your heart.
You shrug, hoping it seems nonchalant.
"He might ask me out."
Taehyung shakes his head, huffing out a breath. "You'll say no."
"I like him," you say, honestly, and he just keeps staring into your eyes and it's making it hard to breathe.
He shakes his head again. "Don't say that."
His voice is softer, less sure, and he takes another step, close enough that he could lean down and kiss you with a tilt of his head.
His hands come to your hips slowly, as if he thinks you might push him away but you can't move. You don't want to, damnit, as much as you'd love to believe you did.
When he lifts you onto the counter your arms go around his neck instantly, it's like second nature, and he lets out a long breath as if he's been holding it.
You expect him to lean down and kiss you, hungry and possessive, but instead he just presses his forehead to yours.
"I don't want you to like him," he says in that low, soft tone.
"Why?" You ask, nearly breathless, and that's when he kisses you, slow and deep but somehow needy at the same time.
His fingers dance at the inside of your thigh before he hooks his thumb into your panties, barely brushing across your clit and making you gasp into his mouth.
"I can make you cum harder," he murmurs against your ear. "I can be better."
Instead of cocky and arrogant like his text sounded, it sounds like a promise, a plea, and you wonder if you've gotten it wrong, all this time.
"Taehyung," you say his name softly and he makes this little pleased sound in the back of his throat, presses his thumb against your clit before dipping two fingers inside you, too shallow, teasing. "Taehyung."
“Do you still like him?” He presses his fingers up against that rough spot just inside your cunt that makes pleasure shoot up your spine.
“I do,” you admit, and his shoulders slump, head dropping against your shoulder as if he’s tired, exhausted even.
Before he can back away, you press your hand over his, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.
“But I think I’m in love with you.” Your voice is shaky, but the way he presses his lips to your neck makes the confession feel less vulnerable.
“Thank God,” he mumbles, moving to kiss along your jawline. “You were driving me crazy, jagiya.”
It makes it all seem different, his casual use of that petname, the way he turned his face into your stomach after grabbing you around the waist, as if you’ve gotten it all wrong all these months.
Later, when he’s looking down into your eyes with that same intense look he’s been giving you for months, it all seems to make sense.
When he moves his mouth to your throat, making big, sloppy marks there, you tug at his hair to make him look at you, and he bucks inside you.
“Taehyung. You have to say it.” You insist, firmly.
He pauses, face blank, and then a big, boxy smile breaks across his face. “I’ll text you.”
You’re laughing into his mouth when he kisses you again but when you wake up the next morning with him sleeping soundly on his stomach beside you, you check your phone.
Slicing the Tiger's Head (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/UiNb/ZKQ3rMeHJJ [Short Story---2400+ words] High school junior, Heather, never imagined the day would come when she would step foot in her classmate Jennifer's home. But school group projects never go according to plan.
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Yo! I wrote this in December for my fiction writing class! It’s really short but I think it’s okay. If you don’t follow me on Wattpad already, please do so. I’ll be posting more original writings there and hopefully be updating my AO3 with fanfiction. Thanks everyone <3
A/n: Happy Valentine’s day to my lovely @tinysweetscrown! It’s Archer, who’s been in your inbox all month. I hope you like it and have a wonderful Valentine’s!
Summary: You meet your best friend Park Jimin at a lacrosse game in high school, and you can’t help being disappointed when neither of you get soulmarks.
Warnings: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, a little marking and possessiveness but this is mostly soft, a little angst
Word Count: 2170
You're sitting in the bleachers at a lacrosse game, bored out of your mind, when you first meet the boy who becomes your best friend.
Your friend had dragged you here because she had a big crush on the captain, Hoseok, and she's cheering at the top of her lungs while you're trying not to fall asleep.
Then suddenly there's a ball hurtling toward your face and you scream and close your eyes.
When you open them, there's a net dangling in front of your face, and a ridiculously handsome boy standing over you.
"You okay?" He asks, and you just nod, shellshocked.
You almost fall off the back of the bleachers when he smiles at you, and that's how it starts. That's how you fall a little in love before you even know his name.
Park Jimin wasn't like the other jocks at your high school, he didn't have rich parents or run in the same social circles, mostly kept to himself other than this one younger kids who ate lunch with him sometimes.
He latched on to you, though, finding you right after the game.
"You should be more careful at games. Wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face, yeah?" He says with this wicked smirk and your heart beats wildly and it seemingly never stops, even after you become best friends.
Even when you learn all the dumbest things about him, like how he constantly loses his socks somewhere in his apartment and sleeps in his contacts, your heart is still his, even if you never want him to know it.
When your 20th year comes and goes with no sign of a soulmark for either of you, it's a night of drinking and bemoaning your lonely futures.
"We can always marry each other," He says, propping his face in his hand and staring at you with glassy yet serious eyes.
You snort. "Sure, Jiminie."
Something flashes across his face but then he smiles, changes the subject, and you'd brushed it off as drunk rambling.
It isn't as if he hasn't said things like that before while tipsy, like the night of your high school graduation, his head in your lap, looking up at you.
"I love you, yeah?"
Your heart had skipped about twelve beats but you'd just smiled and ruffled his hair and the next morning he hadn't said a word.
It's your junior year of college when things start to change, and it happens so gradually you wouldn't have even noticed if it'd been anyone but Jimin.
He'd always been a hands on friend, literally, hands on you almost all the time, always cuddly and affectionate, always butting into your life and telling you the guys you were dating didn't deserve you, but slowly, he starts pulling away.
He still plays lacrosse and for a while you figure he's just busy with practice and games and you haven't had time to attend them lately.
But then the next time you're at a party together he's too quiet and he pulls away from you when you take his hand.
"So it's something?" You kneel in front of him, looking up at him with concerned eyes.
He won't look at you, runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, it's something."
Jimin won't meet your eyes until you put your hands on his thighs.
"You can tell me anything."
He huffs out a breath, looking down at you miserably. He shakes his head. "Not this."
You sit up on your knees, frowning. "Jiminie-"
He stares at you for a long moment, seeming torn, biting at his bottom lip.
"Fuck it," he breathes, and then he leans down and puts his hand in your hair and your mind goes blank.
Then he kisses you, Park Jimin, your best friend, secret crush for most of your life, with his perfect mouth on yours.
He tastes like peaches and when his tongue slides into your mouth the bitterness of soju blooms on your tongue.
You make this sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan into his mouth and then he's hefting you up into his lap and kissing you and kissing you and you can't breathe.
He moves his mouth to your throat, hands on your hips and his lips feel like fire.
"I wanted it to be you," he murmurs into your skin. "I prayed for it to be you."
You don't understand but you can't think enough to ask when he slips his hand under your shirt, palms light on your skin.
"Y/n-ah, can I?" He asks softly, meeting your eyes, and suddenly your heart rate slows. It's just Jimin, just your sweet, handsome best friend who you'd done everything with since you were 16, and you nod, something seeming to swell in your chest.
He slides his hands up your back and you throw your head back, feeling suddenly dizzy.
"Jimin," you moan, and he unhooks your bra with one hand and your eyes snap to his.
He has the grace to look a bit sheepish before he lowers his mouth to your breast, taking your nipple into his mouth along with the fabric of your t-shirt.
"Fuck," you curse, and your hips roll almost involuntarily.
Jimin moans against your breast and when he lifts his head there's a wet spot on your shirt.
His pupils are blown, brown eyes almost black, and you can't believe this is happening.
"I know you don't….I know you've never wanted me, but-"
Your mouth drops open. You're so baffled you can't even speak and his face crumbles, eyes darting away from you, hands dropping from your hips.
"I'm sorry," he says in this hoarse almost whisper and you make a distressed sound in the back of your throat.
You push him down onto the bed, a little roughly, and he looks up at you with wide, shocked eyes.
"You're stupid," you mumble, kissing along his collarbone.
He trembles under your mouth. "Y/n-"
"You're so fucking stupid," you say again, more emphatically, and slide your hands down his abdomen, he's muscled from the practice but on off season his belly gets a little soft and you love it either way, love all of him so much you could burst.
He's just wearing a pair of striped pajama pants and you unceremoniously yank them down, unsurprised and a little mad when his cock is as pretty as the rest of him, the slightest curve, and you wrap your fingers around him, twisting just a bit.
He thrusts into your hand, making this intoxicating whimpering sound.
"Fuck. Fuck. God, you're so good at this, you…"
He trails off into a low moan when you thumb over his slit, throwing his head back.
You can't resist smirking a little. "Well, I've had practice, Jiminie."
His jaw clenches instantly and he sits up and flips you over easily, hands on your waist, making you gasp and giggle.
"I don't wanna talk about it," he growls, kissing and sucking at your neck, nipping at your collarbone. You're wearing a denim skirt and one hand massages you high up on your thigh. "God, when you told me about that guy, Woo something-"
"Wooseok?" You feel giddy, more drunk off him than the one shot of soju you'd had earlier.
"Whatever," he grumbles. "You kept talking and talking about him last year, about how big he was, ugh."
He buries his face in your neck and you coo and stroke his hair.
"Don't tell me you were jealous, Jiminie?"
"Of course I was," he admits, nipping at your earlobe before lifting his head, fingers dancing at the edge of your lace panties.
"Then you clammed up when I asked you how the sex was, and I wanted to die a little."
"None of your business," you sass, but you're grinning.
"Such a brat," he murmurs, pushing your skirt up around your hips and pushing your panties to the side, staring down at your pussy.
He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat. You can feel how wet you are, and your hips buck when he trails two fingers down your pussy, bringing them to his mouth.
"J-Jimin," you stutter as he pops them into his mouth and sucks, meeting your eyes.
He leans over to grab something out of the bedside drawer, cock bouncing against his belly, and you belatedly realize it's a condom when he's sheathing himself with it.
"Jagi, wanna fuck you now, yeah? Wanna ruin you for all other men."
He's kneading your thigh with one hand, and you should want to laugh at this, your best friend saying this possessive caveman shit, but instead, you part your thighs.
"Oh, Jiminie. You already have. Years ago."
His face softens and he lines up and slides inside you, slow, lips parted, watching your face.
"Do you mean that, jagi?"
There's something in his eyes, something off, but the way he stretches you out makes your brain stutter.
Before you can respond he leans down to kiss you, hard and hungry, and rolls his hips.
You cry out curses into his mouth, and he chuckles.
"Such a dirty mouth, jagi," he says, his tone dropping lower as he starts to move faster inside you.
Your mouth feels dry, all your nerve endings on fire, and when he sits up on his knees and presses his thumb against your clit, you clamp your hand over your mouth to keep from yelling.
"God," he groans, thrusting into you erratically, his thumb moving rougher against your clit. "Fuck, the way you clench around me, jagi-"
You make a muffled keening noise when you tumble over the edge, feeling your cunt pulse around his cock and when he moans your name and grips your thigh tighter, hips bucking, aftershocks tingle down your spine.
Jimin collapses next to you, discarding the condom in his wastebasket before pulling you into his arms, swinging a leg over your hip like a koala.
You sigh, happy with the affection, having kissed having him close the last few weeks. Anytime you'd let yourself fantasize about this, you'd thought it would feel different, but it doesn't, it still feels warm and safe, just like always.
You start to drift off a bit as he hums a little, dropping soft kisses on your shoulder.
When you wake, the bed is cold and you whine and roll over to see Jimin sitting up on the bed, facing away from you, his shoulders a bit slumped.
"Jiminie?" You yawn, placing a hand on the small of his back.
He sniffles and you scramble up into a sitting position, concerned.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
Jimin lets out a shaky breath. "I wanted it to be you," he says brokenly, and you frown, confused.
"What does that mean, Jiminie?" You kiss his shoulder and that's when you see it, a small, purple mark, almost in the shape of a star. "Oh. Oh." Your heart plummets to your toes.
Jimin twists to face you, tears streaking his cheeks.
"Every night since I met you, I've wished it was you. I wished on every shooting star, wished every time I threw a coin into a well. I wished so hard for you to be my soulmate, Y/n-" His breath hitches and your throat aches.
"Did you….did you meet her?" You choke out.
Jimin shakes his head. "I don't want to. I just want you. I've only ever wanted you, Jagi."
You let out the breath you'd been holding, tears threatening behind your eyes. "But I don't have a soulmark, Jimin. I'm not…. you're meant for someone else."
Jimin shakes his head again. "I'm not," he says passionately. "I know I'm not, it's only ever been you."
Your skin feels hot and uncomfortable, your heart aching, and you sweep your hair back from your neck to one side in frustration.
Instantly, Jimin kisses you there, the side of your neck, and you gasp when his mouth hits a particularly sensitive spot just above your ear.
Jimin pulls back from you and his eyes are wide. "Jagi-" he breathes.
"I don't know what to do about this," you say miserably, but instead of responding Jimin just kisses you, hard, and you feel him smile against your mouth.
"Jimin, what-"
He's grinning widely at you when he disappears into the bathroom , returning with a handheld mirror and tugging you up to stand in front of his floor length mirror.
He angles the mirror and pushes back your hair and you gasp. There's a raised spot just above your ear, matching Jimin's, and you turn to throw your arms around him.
Jimin laughs out loud as you kiss him all over his face, pushing him down on the bed.
Later, when you're riding him, after he's kissed that spot above your ear about a million times, you lean down to kiss him softly. "Your wish came true, Jiminie," you whisper, and his smile makes you feel like your heart will burst wide open.
A/n: This is the first in a series for the Monster Smash Halloween project for Ksmutclub! I am attempting to do all seven BTS members with a supernatural (read: spoopy) theme by the 28th.
Summary: Min Yoongi doesn't want anyone moving into the house he's been haunting, especially not someone who reminds him what it feels like to be alive.
Warnings: is it considered unprotected sex if he's a ghost? Teasing, clothed sex, some angst Ghost!Yoongi is horny yet soft, reader is kind of a top really, less spoopy than horny, praise, dirty talk
Word Count: 2276
Min Yoongi doesn't like change. Change makes him anxious, it always has, even before....well....before.
He feels his chest tightening nonetheless when you view the house, eyes wide and bright, surveying his bedroom like you're imagining all your stuff in there.
Yoongi hates you on sight. You must have drifted through life, being that pretty, with a bright smile.
People make him more anxious than change, and a beautiful girl in his space? Standing in the living room, inches from where he'd taken his last breath?
It felt oddly intimate.
Imagine being anxious when you have no heartbeat to speed up, no breath to get short.
The movers start bringing your things in before you know it and he sulks, pushing over boxes marked fragile, laughing when it's blamed on one of the younger movers.
Yoongi doesn't particularly like to scare people, but it's easy. Just a few toppled boxes and the movers rush out of the house, and he can't help but smirk as you struggle to bring everything in yourself.
The first night, you curl up on the couch with a book and he watches you for a couple of hours, the line of your jaw, how long your legs look, and he's angry at himself for looking.
He's more angry at the way he wishes he could wrap a hand around your ankle, brush the hair back from your face.
He's the most angry for suddenly feeling lonely after god knows how many years of shuffling around the house, content in his solitude.
So he makes the lights flicker, and when you get up to check the breaker, he hides your book down in the couch cushions.
You're frowning as you look for it, and how does he feel his heart speed up when it isn't even fucking beating?
It's weeks of this, of him toppling over your drinks, hiding your books, flipping the breakers, slamming doors, doing everything he knows has worked in the past, but you're unbothered. You're...fearless.
He's never appeared to anyone before, never even known that he could, and when he appears to you, it's completely by accident.
Yoongi doesn't watch you shower, he's never been that kind of guy, but he can't help how his eyes catch the curve of your ass when you walk around in a men's t-shirt and panties, can't help wondering whose shirt you're sleeping in.
His throat tightens when you go up to the attic and find the box he'd left there, full of his clothes and books, and part of him hopes you throw it away, but when you don't, when you squeal in surprise at some of the books, gently fingering the pages, it's his chest that tightens.
The night you end up seeing him, just for a moment, you'd washed the box of his shirts and you were wearing one of them, a black one, with the bottom knotted to show your stomach and a pair of black panties, dancing around in the kitchen, making popcorn.
He feels his lips curling in a smile, watching you, and he wonders how long it's been since he's smiled.
Yoongi finds himself crouched behind you as you lie on the couch, reading over your shoulder, that night, and he tells himself that it's because he's bored and not because he likes the way your shampoo smells, likes the view of your legs stretched out on the couch.
It’s almost 3am, and he kind of likes that you’re an insomniac, because he had been once, when he was alive, and he tries not to think about why that pleases him so much.
You huff out a breath, frustrated suddenly, and he stands to come around and see your face, frowning down at you.
You slide your hand down what used to be his shirt, slip a thumb beneath the waistband of your panties, and if Yoongi had still had lungs, he would have surely stopped breathing.
When you slide your hand further down, slipping beneath your panties, fingers finding your core, he crouches down again, watching your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut.
He hadn't even known that his anatomy still worked this way, that he could still get this hard, that his heart could thud against his chest, hands aching to touch you.
You hitch in a frustrated breath and your eyes pop open, widening a bit, and Yoongi realizes you can see him.
***
You don't commonly fantasize about anyone in particular when you touch yourself, and you've been single for so long you don't even conjure up past experiences anymore.
So when you can't quite get there, alone on your couch, you're shocked to open your eyes and see a pair of hungry brown eyes, a man crouched down in front of you, black locks falling over his face.
He's gone just as your breath catches, as heat floods through you.
That night, when you dream, it's of those hungry brown eyes and pouty lips, how his tongue flicked out to the corner of his mouth.
He seems familiar, and you wonder if it's someone you'd seen in passing, someone you'd been attracted to.
It isn't until days later that you go through that box you'd found in the attack and that one Polaroid of the same man, except this time with a gummy smile, eyes softer, that you realize that all the flickering lights and lost books weren't just your imagination after all.
It doesn't even occur to you to be scared, you've grown up seeing things that other's couldn't, believing in things like the tarot and the other side, and nothing about the energy you felt here seemed malignant or frightening.
You wait a few days, and you stop feeling the random rushes of cold, there's no flickering lights, there's no more hiding your books or toppling your glasses.
After two glasses of wine and a particularly trying day at work, you speak out loud.
"Are you shy now?" You ask, tipsy enough not to feel stupid in case you're talking to yourself.
You wait a few seconds, and nothing happens.
"Do you only show up when I'm half naked?" You continue, smirking a little. You slide down one strap of your camisole, revealing a bit of cleavage.
When nothing happens, you huff a little, but then the lights flicker.
"Aren't you afraid?"
You flinch at the deep voice right next to your ear, shivering at the sudden chill, but it isn't from fear.
"Takes a lot to scare me," you murmur, and turn your head to see him sitting there, right next to you, close enough that if you moved slightly, your thigh would touch his....if you could touch him, that is.
You're not sure how this works, but you're insanely curious to try.
He chuckles a little. "You're fearless."
"Do you like fearless girls? Or...did you? Before?"
"When I was alive, you mean?" He gives you a half smile. "Didn't know very many. I worked too hard to date much. Worked myself to death, really."
"Do you get bored, hanging around here? Is that why you watch me?"
He flushes, looking away from you, and you wonder how a ghost can blush. You find yourself wondering...
"I didn't mean to spy."
You smile at him and reach out to touch his collarbone, not knowing what might happen, but it works, you feel his skin soft beneath your hand.
He takes in a sharp breath, eyes widening. "You...you touched me."
"I...I did some research," you admit softly. "It's the witching hour, the time when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest. My name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”
He swallows hard, staring down at your hand touching his collarbone, and then looks back up to your face. “I’m Yoongi.”
You swing your leg over his waist to straddle him, impulsively, and his breath hitches again, and he's cold to the touch, trembling under your fingers when you wrap your arms around his neck.
"What are you doing?" He breathes, eyes searching your face.
“Don’t you ever get lonely, Yoongi? Don’t you miss being touched like this?”
He smirks at you then. "I think maybe you're the one who is lonely, doll. Looking for a phantom lover?"
"You offering?"
"Doesn't look like you're gonna move out anytime soon. And you keep prancing around in my clothes..."
He slips a hand under your t-shirt, spanning his fingers up your ribcage and hissing in a breath between his teeth.
"It's been so long since I've been been able to touch someone," he says, looking into your eyes almost in awe.
"So touch me," you breathe.
It's so slow, how his hands move up under your shirt to palm your breasts, your nipples tightening and not just from the chill.
He lets out a low groan when you arch your back.
"I don't think I was ever this hard when I was alive," he mutters, and you roll your hips against his erection, eliciting another strangled moan from him.
"You know what's great about having a phantom lover?" You murmur into his ear.
"What's that, doll?" He sounds distracted, voice muffled against your skin as he kisses the base of your throat.
"You don't need condoms."
He hisses in another breath and moves his hands from your breasts to unbutton his jeans, huffing in frustration when he fumbles.
"These aren't even real," He mutters, and when you giggle his eyes dart to yours, something so soft in them it makes your heart speed up.
"You're so beautiful when you laugh."
He moves his hand to your face and your throat goes tight. You don't want to think about what happens after, if he'll disappear forever, if you'll pine over your phantom lover for years, so you unbutton his jeans for him, freeing his cock from the denim, and he looks down at your hand instead of your face.
"Oh, fuck." He mutters, bucking into your hand, and he moves his hands to your hips, lifting you up to rock you against him.
When you just roll your hips, stroking his cock slowly, watching precum drip down the head.
His breath is hitching in his chest and he buries his face in your neck. "C'mon, doll. Y/n. Don't tease. We...we might not have much time."
Your throat tightens again at the thought and you push the crotch of your panties to the side, holding him at the base until you slide down on him completely.
"Oh, fuck!" He cries out, throwing his head back against the couch, throat working, hands kneading your hips.
"Oh. Oh." You mewl.
You don't know what you'd expected, but he was so warm, pulsing inside you, just like he was alive and breathing, and you rock forward for friction, adjusting.
Yoongi sits up straighter on the couch, rolling his hips beneath you, and he catches your mouth with his, and his tongue is warm, too, he's warm all over as if he's coming to life and you press closer to him, wanting more.
He breaks away from you, breathing hard, watching you ride him, an awed and almost pained look on his handsome face.
"My pretty little doll, look at you. You're so good, so perfect. You're going to make me come. You're going to make me come in that tight cunt, but I want you pulsing around me, want you to come first, yeah?"
The way he’s praising you makes your skin hot, your head dizzy.
He grabs your hips, thrusting up into you, dragging his cock along just the right spot as you grind against him for pressure on your clit, and when you come you cry out his name.
You feel your cunt pulsing around him, tightening like a vice and he throws his head back again before kissing you hard, nipping at your bottom lip.
“You feel so fucking good, doll. You feel like heaven. It was worth all these years being alone just to feel you, you know that?”
He lets loose a string of curses when he spills inside you, and his come is warm too, almost hot, and none of the biology of this makes any fucking sense but you can’t care when you can feel his heart thudding against your chest as he presses you to him, when you can feel his lips planting soft kisses along your shoulders.
You play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, looking at the clock over his shoulder, and it’s nearing 4am.
You hug him tight, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. “Will you disappear after the witching hour is over?” You ask, voice hoarse.
He pulls back enough to look at your face, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek.
“I...I don’t know. You’re the one that did the research,” he jokes, but his half smile is a bit sad.
“Will you come back?”
He seems to think for a moment, and your heart seizes in your chest.
“I won’t leave. I never leave this place, and I damn sure don’t plan to now, after this. After you.”
You sigh in relief, but it’s shaky, and he leans up to kiss you, soft, and then you yelp as he disappears, making you plop down on the couch with a thud.
You feel cold, suddenly, cold and empty because whatever he’d left inside you was as gone as he was, and tears roll down your cheeks.
It’s not until the next morning, until you grab for the novel on your nightstand and it isn’t there, that a smile spreads across your face.
A/n: No one asked for this, I have had a hellacious month and I just needed to write some self indulgent filth, but if you wanna catch up there’s actually an entire universe of these fics leading up to this poly filth with feelings, the latest installment being The Other Shore
Warnings: BUCKLE UP THOTS, mmf threesome, sub!Jungkook, switch!reader, switch!Taemin, Jungkook just wants to be a good boy, restraints so light bondage, orgasm control, this is pretty gay, bisexual!Jungkook, bisexual!Taemin, lots of praise, lots of dirty talk, gratuitous use of the pet name “bunny,” Jungkook has some angsty inner monologue, anal fingering, unprotected sex (so much of it, really), anal sex, demon sex pheromones making things all fuzzy, sexual punishments that kinda turn into rewards bc everyone is whipped for Kookie, blowjobs (male receiving and male giving bc this is a threesome folks), some oral sex (female receiving), Jungkook has a helluva praise kink in this, lots of m/m so if that’s not your thing, skip it
Word Count: 2371
"It isn't fair!" Jungkook burst out, tears of frustration pooling at the corners of his eyes, his skin on fire, head spinning.
"What's not fair is Persephone and I having to rush home from meetings because our pet won't. Fucking. Listen." Taemin emphasizes each of the last three words with bites on Jungkook's inner thighs.
Jungkook cries out, straining against the leather restraints and under Taemin's strong forearm locked across his hips. It hurts but his mouth, fuck-
Jungkook can't think, he's just crying and babbling out apologies.
"Baby," you croon, and it's always like this, good cop, bad cop, but Jungkook feels stupid and degraded and so fucking horny he can't think, so he squeezes his eyes shut, won't look at you. You're sitting up at the head of the bed with his head in your lap.
"Baby," you repeat. "You know we do this because we love you. You have to learn to take care of yourself when we have to be away."
"I didn't want you to go away," he says, and it sounds pitiful but it's true, he feels lonely and scared and jealous when the two of you leave, arm in arm like the demon royalty you would have been if Jungkook hadn't interfered.
Every hour that goes by when his temperature rises he can't control his breathing or his heart rate, can't stop thinking about how both of you must resent this, having to take care of him when you should be beautiful happy couple, ruling together.
He ends up just lying in bed, clothes making his skin feel tender and sensitive, surrounded by that cherry and cinnamon scent that makes his cock ache and his heart ache and by the time you two get back he's near delirious and Taemin's angry and you're disappointed.
"Baby." Jungkook's eyes fly open because it's Taemin's voice he hears, soft, smooth like honey. "Bunny."
Jungkook whimpers softly, it makes his heart skip a beat when Taemin uses that pet name and he'd just been so angry with him and more tears spill down his cheeks.
"We didn't want to leave you either, but we can't very well take our bunny into the pits of hell where any incubus or succubus could get their claws in you, yeah?" Taemin kisses the bites he'd left.
"I'd be good," Jungkook protests, and Taemin chuckles, lifts up to lean over him.
Taemin kisses him softly, almost sweet, and Jungkook makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat when he pulls away.
"I know you would, bunny. I just don't want any of their eyes on you, yeah? You belong to us." Taemin leans down to suck a mark onto Jungkook's throat and Jungkook moans.
"I do, I do, please please, I'll be good next time, hyung, I *promise.*"
"You will?" Jungkook nods eagerly, and Taemin's fingers wrap around his cock and he's so grateful he's crying all over again.
He rolls his eyes up to yours and you smile, kiss the tip of his nose. "Baby. We'd never abandon our bunny."
"Of course not," Taemin scoffs, stroking Jungkook's cock slow, too slow, and Jungkook is letting out whimpers and moans.
"Tell me what you need, baby."
Taemin is thumbing tears from Jungkook's cheek, brown eyes so soft, and Jungkook's heart feels like it's swelling in his chest.
He hadn't expected it to be so easy, falling in love with Taemin, a man who would have been his rival in any other world, but it'd fallen together like clockwork, and every part of Jungkook ached for his approval, his love.
His favorite thing is when you're the strict one and Taemin goes all praise and soft kisses, calling him "bunny," stroking his face like he was now.
"Want you to fuck me, hyung, please," Jungkook breathes, and Taemin blinks, full lips parting.
They hadn't talked about this, not yet, although there's been Taemin's wicked mouth and talented fingers and before he'd even arrived there'd been yours stroking his prostate, making his words stutter on his lips, his cock twitch, the hardest orgasms he'd ever had.
You're already tossing Taemin the lube, Jungkook is always amazed how you two work in tandem, smooth and graceful when he can't string two sentences together.
"Are you sure, bunny? I could use my mouth-"
He gives Jungkook that wicked smirk that makes his heart speed up, but Jungkook shakes his head.
"No. No I want you inside me, love you so much, want to make you cum, *please,*"
Taemin looks almost shocked, and Jungkook feels pride that he's able to surprise the demon, if only for a moment before that wicked smirk is back.
"Our bunny. Slutty boy," Taemin murmurs into his ear and his words send shivers of pleasure down Jungkook's spine.
He always means to ask if Taemin's voice is some kind of demon magic but then Taemin's fingers are inside him and he can't think anymore.
You're cradling his face, murmuring praise into his ear and fuck, he loves you, you'd always described the addiction to demon pheromones like a drug but you'd never told him it was the love that made him itch and ache and want the way he does. He loves you both and sometimes he feels like it's too much, he loves you both too hard because he can't even say it unless he's half drunk on demon pheromones.
Taemin presses up on Jungkook's prostate and his vision blurs out a bit.
Jungkook feels his orgasm approaching like a freight train and he cries out. "No, no, want you inside me, hyung, don't want to cum yet, please-"
He wants to cry again at the thought of cumming before he's filled and you always know, you lean down and kiss him, distract him. "It's okay, baby. You're okay."
It slows his breathing, at least until Taemin pushes inside him and Jungkook hiccups out something between a sob and a moan.
It's been hours since he's been able to cum and double the pheromones makes an hour feel like a week.
He's so hard it hurts, dribbling precum like a faucet.
It burns a bit, but being filled with Taemin's cock is a whole new sensation, a bit foreign but it feels so good, and all this time this is what he's been missing? No wonder you loved it so much, Taemin is rolling his hips slow and dragging the head of his cock along Jungkook's prostate and his nerve endings are all on fire.
Jungkook looks up at you again, and you laugh a little, as if you know what he's thinking.
"He's good, yeah?"
"So fucking good," Jungkook moans, and if he weren't so far gone he'd be embarrassed by how desperate he was for more, for Taemin to fuck him harder, but he looks at Taemin focused on where they meet and Jungkook is suddenly overcome.
"Tell me I'm good, hyung?"
Taemin's eyes catch his, and his smile isn't wicked anymore, but soft.
"You're so good, baby. You take my cock so well."
The praise makes heat coil in Jungkook's stomach and he whimpers. "You can go faster, hyung, I can take it, I'll be so good for you."
Taemin looks up to catch your gaze and again Jungkook is struck by the nonverbal communication, and for a moment he feels adrift and left out but then your fingers wrap around his cock and he gasps in a breath.
Taemin grabs ahold of his hips and starts to move his hips faster and Jungkook has seen this from the other side but the way it feels…
"C-can I-" Jungkook stutters, and Taemin smiles.
"Go ahead, bunny. Cum for us, yeah?"
It's almost instant, his back arching, cum spurting onto his stomach and the relief makes all his muscles go weak.
When Taemin pulls out, Jungkook whines, hates the way it feels to be empty and he's still needy, still hard against his stomach with the smell of cherries and cinnamon bursting around him.
Taemin leans down to kiss him, hard and hungry this time, and Jungkook ruts against him, still whining.
"Don't be greedy, bunny. Have to take care of our girl, yeah?"
Jungkook whimpers again, and he doesn't know how to voice what he wants, how he's usually content to watch you and Taemin but today he feels needy and jealous, but somehow, Taemin seems to know.
"Do you want to do it, bunny? Make our Persephone cum?"
"Yes, yes, please-" Jungkook breathes, and Taemin is already wiping the mess off his stomach. Jungkook is fighting tears again when Taemin kisses his chin, humming a bit.
He shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't worry so much about all the history you and Taemin have, but he can't help it, can't help feeling weak and obsolete and…*human.*
You've unhooked his restraints at just a glance from Taemin and Jungkook's biceps ache from straining against them.
He flips over instantly, spreading your thighs roughly, and you're so wet it's dripping down your thighs.
He licks from your thigh to your opening, moaning against you, the scent of musk and cherries making his skin heat all over again.
You tug at his hair before he even gets started and he whines out a protest.
"Want to be fucked, Kookie. Want you to fill me up," you moan, lips parted, and who is he to deny you?
You giggle when he grabs your ankles and yanks you down on the bed, and Jungkook feels light-headed, grins and kisses you.
He's so focused on you that he is surprised by Taemin's low moan, looks up to see him sitting against the headboard, one hand circling the base of his cock.
"Our eager bunny," Taemin teases when Jungkook rams into you, but his voice is uncommonly strained.
Jungkook looks over at him again, concerned, and his brain goes fuzzy at the sight of Taemin's knees up, feet flat on the bed, two long fingers buried to the knuckle inside him.
"If you're a good bunny, next time I'll let you fuck me," Taemin says, low and almost hoarse, and pleasure shoots up Jungkook's spine, his hips stuttering.
"Or you could watch me fuck him," you moan, and Jungkook stills inside you, willing himself not to instantly cum inside you from the thought and how your cunt clenched around him.
"Y-yeah?" He stutters, and he's not sure if he's ever been this turned on, even after weeks of living with two demons with sex pheromones that literally almost killed him.
He looks down at you, your open mouth, and remembers suddenly what Taemin said, about how you liked to be dominated sometimes, and he impulsively sticks two fingers between your parted lips.
You moan around them, sucking, hollowing your cheeks just like you did around his cock, and his breath catches in his throat.
“Sh-shit,” he mutters.
Taemin is making the most musical moans and Jungkook’s head feels heavy with both your scents, pheromones washing over him and his hips move without his brain, sloppy and uncontrolled, but your back arches and he feels you clenching around him, tighter and tighter, when you cum, and it’s like the most filthy song, Taemin’s moans and the wet sounds of him pumping in and out of you.
There’s black around the edges of his vision when he cums inside you and he collapses against you, breathing hard.
You stroke his hair. “Gotta learn to control your breathing, baby,” you mumble, and he nods against your shoulder.
He takes a few deep breaths, looks up at Taemin and Jungkook feels his dick twitch inside you at the sight of him, blonde hair curly and mussed, pretty mouth parted, pumping two fingers in and out, his cock hard and curved against his stomach.
It’s almost like being in a dream, at this point, and there’s been moments like it before, Jungkook figures it’s something between the unreality of being a poly relationship with two demons and all the sex pheromones the two of you pump out on a daily basis ramping up during sexual activity.
Jungkook slides out of you, crawls up toward Taemin.
“C-can I help? I’ll be good,” he says again, because he needs him to know, needs you both to know he’s been bad while you’re away but if you’ll stay he’ll be so, so good. He rests his cheek on Taemin’s thigh, coming around on his left side, and Taemin tugs at his hair gently.
“Of course you will, baby,” Taemin croons, and Jungkook envies his level of self control and it makes him so proud when he fits his mouth around the head of Taemin’s cock and Taemin lets out a hoarse moan.
Jungkook wishes he could see Taemin’s face, breathes slowly through his nose and sees you crawling toward Taemin in his peripheral vision.
He hears the two of you kissing and uses a hand and his mouth, flicking his tongue over the head of Taemin’s cock.
“Ah, bunny, your mouth...Gonna cum soon,” Taemin groans, tugging at Jungkook’s hair again but Jungkook shakes his head just a bit, letting saliva help him move up and down.
Taemin’s fingers go soft in his hair, playing instead of pulling, and Jungkook hums out contentedly around his cock.
“Persephone, our bunny is so good, yeah? Taking care of us both.”
The praise makes Jungkook’s hip twitch, rutting against the bedsheets.
Taemin hisses and his hips jerk up once when he cums, and Jungkook is surprised at the taste, sweet and tangy like cinnamon.
When he lifts his head, you’re standing naked over him with a cool cloth, just like always, and this is almost his favorite part, after you’re away, when the two of you take care of him, clean him up, break his fever.
This time it’s even better because he’s tucked up against Taemin’s side, head on his chest, with the demon’s nimble fingers in his hair, murmuring out comforts and praise.
Jungkook decides as he’s drifting off, that if being bad gets him here, sleeping in the middle between the two of you, he might not want to be such a good boy after all.
Summary: You’re pulling away, and Jimin just wants to fix it.
A/n: for my lovely friend @xxowk, this was a bit inspired by the song Half Light by Banners if you wanna check it out.
Warnings: None, angst and fluff and I guess a really mild alcohol tw
Word Count: 2028
Jimin isn't sure how it happens, you drifting away. It isn't as if he doesn't notice it.
He feels it happening and it's like a rock in his gut when you pull away from him while you're cuddling in bed or how your hand slips out of his while you're walking down the street.
He keeps asking if everything's okay and you just smile and nod but your smile doesn't meet your eyes.
He knows he can't be there for you all the time, worried that you're pulling away because he's not there enough or maybe because you've decided he's not what you want after all and he can't sleep for two nights when you text him one word answers every time he texts you.
You talk on the phone almost every night that he’s away, but you start refusing to facetime, even when he whines, which usually makes you cave immediately.
“Wanna see your pretty face, jagi, please?”
“Not right now, Jiminie,” you say softly, and there’s something in your voice that makes him drop it.
Eventually, you stop texting back at all, and it makes panic rise in his throat.
You'd been dating a few months and he'd known you were shy, hard to get to know, but he'd been patient, gotten you to open up slowly like a flower blooming and he'd been proud of that.
Now, you're retreating into yourself or away from him and he can't stand it. He's got a break coming up and he's both excited and anxious to see you, but when he texts to tell you, you barely respond.
Huffing out a breath, he calls you instead, and he's almost surprised when you answer.
"Jagi, I've missed you so much, are you excited to see me?" He asks cheerfully, pushing down his anxiety.
"I-I'm glad you're getting a break, Jiminie. I don't know if I can see you right away, though." Your voice sounds small and tired.
Jimin frowns. "Why not?" It sounds a little whiny but he can't help it.
"I just need some space," you say quietly, and for a moment it's like all the air has rushed out of the room.
"What's wrong?" Jimin asks and it sounds choked and strained.
You don't answer and words spill from his lips without him even realizing what he's going to say.
"If it's that you don't love me anymore, jagi, I don't mind. I love you enough for both of us, I can wait, I can-"
"Jimin," you sigh, and he waits and waits, but you don't say anything else and he doesn't realize you've hung up for another long moment.
His chest aches, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. He doesn't talk about it to the other members, at least not at first, not until way too much wine at dinner.
It’s Namjoon, of course, that he seeks out advice from, knocking on the door, rocking back on his heels a bit unsteadily when Namjoon opens the door.
“Hyung, what should I do?”
Namjoon takes a deep breath. “She asked for space, yeah?”
Jimin groans and puts his face in his hands. “Is this going to be one of those, ‘if you love something let it go’ things?”
Namjoon chuckles. “No, not exactly. You can give her space without actually letting her go.”
“I just wish she’d tell me what’s wrong. I could fix it. I could-”
Namjoon’s hand on his arm feels heavy but comforting.
“Maybe it’s not something you can fix, Jimin-ah.”
It doesn’t help the tightness in his chest one bit, that advice, but Jimin is determined to follow it, tells himself it’s fine, everything will be fine if he just does what Namjoon says and gives you space.
He doesn’t follow Namjoon’s advice.
The second the plane lands, he heads to your house. He tries not to think about it, tries not to worry, tells himself if he can just see your face he’ll feel better
When he knocks on your door and no one answers, he feels like he might vomit.
He can hear your footsteps behind the door but nothing happens, the door doesn’t open.
“Y/n...jagi...please, I just want to see you.”
“I can’t, not now, Jimin just...just go, okay?” Your voice comes small and strained through the door.
Jimin wants to beat his fists against the door, wants to kick at the wall and yell for you to tell him what’s fucking wrong so he can fix it, damnit, but instead he just leans his forehead against your door.
“Jagi, please, I feel sick.” It isn’t a lie, he does feel sick, his stomach is rolling.
You make this little noise and he can’t help but smile a bit, recognizing it as your “distressed” noise.
You finally open the door and he draws in a long breath.
You’re not looking at him, fidgeting with your shirt like you do when you’re anxious, and he wants to hold you so badly but your body language is all hard lines and shut down, your arms crossing over your chest.
“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, still not looking at him.
Jimin wants to scream, but instead, he just chokes out, “No,” standing there stupidly in front of your open front door and fighting tears.
“Please tell me what’s wrong, Y/n, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I’m gonna go crazy,” he babbles, wants to grab you and force you to look at him but you’re staring down at your hands and picking at your nails.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just...I need some time.”
“I’ll do anything. I’ll change anything, be anything you need, jagi, just please tell me,” he blurts, and his voice is rising but he can’t help it, there’s something stuck in his throat and it feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t stop the way this feels.
“I...I need you to go. I need you to go, Jimin, please.” Your voice is shaky but there’s no tears on your cheeks.
You’re trembling and suddenly Jimin is just miserable, hates himself for coming here and making you see him if he’s not what you want. It feels so wrong, to be standing here like strangers when you’re anything but a stranger, when you’re everything.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and goes to leave. When you don’t try to stop him, he takes in a ragged breath, looking at your door knob instead of you, idly wonders if this is the last time he’ll turn it.
“Are...are we done?” He asks vaguely and he feels stupid and small when you don’t say anything, don’t move toward him and then he’s out the door and in the hallway and tears are streaming down his face.
He doesn’t want to go home and yeah, he would really love to get drunk and forget all this but he can’t imagine going to bar the way he feels right now. Instead, he sits down against the wall next to your door.
***
You’re not sure when it happened, when you started retreating into yourself. You assume it was at some point that Jimin was away for months, because when he was in town you never had a moment to worry or let your thoughts turn the way they often had before you’d met him.
Of course, you still had those thoughts, but Jimin was always there with his big eye smile and his arms around you every time you had a bad day.
But you’ve been in this spiral that you can’t shake, and Jimin has so much going on that you can’t bear to talk to him.
Your heart aches when he calls you, when he’s so desperate to fix things and when you hang up because you’re overwhelmed, you immediately feel so guilty that you can’t text back, don’t know what to say.
You can’t even look at him when he shows up at your house, feeling so anxious that you’re sick to your stomach, have to get him out of there because how do you explain? It doesn’t even make sense to you.
You obsess over it in your bedroom after all but kicking him out, thinking about how your breath caught in your throat when he asked, “Are we done?”
You don’t want it to be done. You don’t want it to be over, even if your brain keeps telling you all these awful things. When you wake up, you know what you have to do. You get dressed and run your fingers through your hair, deciding to go and see him, even if it is 6 am. This isn’t something you can talk about on the phone.
You’re rushing out the door and you almost trip over him, he’s sitting against the wall next to your apartment, and he startles awake.
His arms go to steady you and his touch makes your throat ache and you want to speak but you can’t make words so instead you settle next to him, his shoulder touching his just slightly, but it makes you feel comforted.
“You slept out here?”
Jimin hums. “I wanted to be close to you.”
His voice is hoarse and you risk a glance at him. His eyes are puffy like he’s been crying, and you feel so awful for worrying him that tears prick at the backs of your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you choke out, fighting a sob, and Jimin shifts you both so that you’re facing each other, sitting cross legged on the floor.
His hands, once so sure in their touches, are hesitant now, and you pull at his arms to put them around your waist, craving it.
“Jagi,” Jimin breathes, and then your tears come, fat, silent drops dripping down the side of your nose. You lean forward and brace your forehead on his chest.
His fingers thread through your hair automatically, and you feel like you can finally breathe again.
“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours,” Jimin murmurs, and fresh tears spill down your face.
“I’m not….I’m not pretty.” You say hesitantly, your voice broken and small. “I’m not pretty, or all that interesting and I just...I don’t know why you’re with me.”
Jimin makes this distressed sound, so loud that it makes you start.
He takes your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him and it always makes you anxious to look right in someone’s eyes but it’s different, Jimin’s different, he’s safe and he’s home and you just can’t stop crying.
“First of all, you’re beautiful. But it wouldn’t matter if you weren’t, because I love you so much for who you are, jagi, you’re so caring and sweet and I love your little quirks.”
You sniffle. “You do?”
Jimin frowns. “Of course I do. I love you, Y/n, I love you so much, everything about you.”
He kisses you softly, deeply, cradling your face like you’re something precious and you wrap your arms around his neck, losing yourself in it for a moment before pulling away.
“Jagi,” Jimin gasps, breathless from your kiss. “Does this mean we’re...okay?”
He sounds so hesitant and vulnerable and you lunge forward to kiss him again, bumping your forehead against his.
Jimin laughs and you hide your face, a little embarrassed.
He takes them away, giving you that charming smile that makes your heart swell in your chest.
He kisses along your knuckles, rubbing his thumbs on the top of your hand, eyes big and full of love and you can’t believe you ever considered giving this up.
“We’re okay,” you croak out, and he kisses away all your tears, even the ones hanging in your eyelashes, until you’re giggling.
You have to work on it, revealing your insecurities to Jimin, but he’s so understanding and comforting that it makes it easier, and when he’s wrapped around you like a koala in bed, sometimes you put your head on his chest just to feel his heartbeat, and it calms you, evens your breathing. He’s magic, your boyfriend, and you’d be crazy to give that up.
Warnings: WOW, semipublic oral (f. receiving), woman on top, body worship, dirty talk, lots of needy Taehyung moaning, he is such a clown for reader, a little angst from his internal monologue at the end but mostly porn I’m w e a k
Word Count: 2024
Taehyung doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing when he texts you a few days later to ask you to come with him to pick out some new clothes.
He certainly don’t know what in God’s name compels him to take you to a lingerie store, and even worse, go into the dressing room with you, sitting with his hands in his lap while you try on three outfits he’s picked out for you.
His mouth is literally watering just thinking about it, his cock growing in his jeans so that he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
He hasn’t stopped thinking about your cunt since he tasted you, and for three days, he kept things casual and light, but something about the selfie you posted today with the caption “I’m trying” made his chest ache, made him want to make you feel better, feel as beautiful as he saw you.
You're wearing jeans and an oversized hoodie when you meet him at the mall, peeking out of the hood up at him and you're so cute he wants to kiss the tip of your nose.
Instead he takes your hand and leads you to the lingerie store.
"Tae, none of this is gonna fit me," you mumble, but he shushes you, picks out colors that match your skin tone and your eyes.
"This one doesn't look good on me," you call from the dressing room, and the tone of your voice makes him stand, knock softly on the door.
"Can I see?"
It takes a moment before you open the door just a crack, peering out at him, only your face visible.
"It's really not...I look fat."
Taehyung exhales a long breath and pushes at the door gently.
You take a step break and he closes the door behind him.
He has plans for what to say, how to make you feel better, but every word leaves his head when he sees you.
It's a deep red lace teddy with these straps at the edge, hanging down your thick thighs, bouncing against your flesh.
Your breasts are full and spilling over the top of the cups and he can barely draw in a breath, feels like all the blood in his body has rushed to his cock.
Until he sees your arms wrapped around your waist, your head hanging down.
"Noona," he says firmly, and takes your chin in his hand so that you meet his eyes.
Your lip is trembling and he can't stop from thumbing it, gently.
"You look incredible."
Your cheeks flush. "Tae, you don't have to say that-"
Taehyung impulsively takes your hand and presses it to his crotch where he's grown hard as brick at the sight of you, and you gasp.
"Feel what you do to me, noona?"
You flush even deeper, down between your breasts, and he wonders if your skin would be hot if he kissed you there. "Really? For me?"
"No one makes me as hard as you do, noona," he says, earnestly, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
You drop your arms from your waist, eyes searching his face. "You mean that?"
"Jagiya," he breathes, not even realizing that the pet name had slipped out, putting a hand on your hip and stepping closer, leaning down to kiss the tops of your breasts spilling over the top of the teddy, open mouthed. “Jagiya, I’ve never meant anything more.”
He leaves a trail of kisses on your breasts and then drops to his knees to kiss the swell of your stomach, and you're trembling.
He unsnaps the buttons at the crotch of your teddy and you put your hands in his hair and tug gently. "Tae…"
He lets out a low moan and looks up at you."Please, noona. I want to taste again you so bad. I dream about it."
You bite your lip and he groans again, rubbing his face against your thigh. "You smell so good. You're so beautiful and your cunt is so juicy…"
When you don't protest he buries his face in your pussy, inhaling again, licking you slow like he's savoring a meal and your hands tighten in his hair.
He tries to be quiet but he can't help moaning against your clit, your taste on his tongue making him feel like he might cum in his jeans.
"Ah, ah, Tae, I'm gonna cum-"
You're tugging at his hair again but he just sucks at your clit, shaking his head a bit to get more vibration and you're whimpering quietly when you cum, gasping out his name.
He doesn't want to stop but he hears other people in the dressing room so he pulls away, dropping kisses on your inner thighs, taking a deep breath as he stands, licking you off his lips.
"I'm buying you that one," he says and you laugh shakily as he sneaks out the door and sits down, hands in his lap to hide his erection.
He ends up buying you all three because you're dressed and hand the cashier the tag of the red one. "I'm wearing it home," you whisper, and Taehyung's mouth goes dry.
The cashier raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment.
In the parking lot, Taehyung clears his throat. "So...do you have plans for the rest of the day?"
You grin. "Sure. I have a hot date. That's why I'm wearing the teddy home."
The way the air goes out of his lungs makes him brace his hand on the car. "O-oh?"
"Yeah." You lean up on your toes to kiss his mouth, and his chest aches.
"So you're following me home?"
He blinks. "I-I am?"
You laugh. "Yeah, dummy. There's plenty more things to teach me."
He's so relieved that he could fall over and he nods vigorously.
He's absolutely aching on the way home, cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.
You beat him there by a good fifteen minutes because he's daydreaming, barely paying attention to the road.
When he knocks on the door you call to him to come in and you're standing there in your living room in the teddy he bought you and his breath catches in his throat.
You look shy but you aren't covering yourself anymore, peering up at him and biting at your lip and the way that sends an ache down the length of his cock makes him grit his teeth.
"I was hoping you'd teach me...how to be better on top," you say quietly, and he makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat.
You grab his hand and tug him to your armchair and he wonders briefly if this is a dream he'll wake from.
Instead of straddling him you kneel between his legs and he makes another sound in his throat, almost a grunt, as you unbutton his jeans.
"I'm on the pill. You're not seeing anyone right now, yeah?"
He shakes his head vigorously, his skin buzzing with the prospect of getting to be inside you bare.
You nod and tug at his jeans.
He lifts his hips and you work down his jeans and boxers enough that he springs out hard against his stomach, and he's gasping the second you take him in your mouth, deeper this time than the last time.
He grips the arms of the chair tight to keep from bucking up into your mouth and thanks God when you come off him, leaving him wet from your mouth.
"Noona. Noona, fuck, I almost came in your mouth, I might need a minute-"
But you're unsnapping your teddy and straddling him and he can't help it, he does buck his hips when you slide your wetness along his cock, letting out a low moan.
"Wanna show you what moves I've got," you murmur, "so you can teach me to make it better."
Taehyung wheezes in a breath, laughing, head spinning with pleasure and need. "Oh, noona, I don't know if I can teach you anything, you... you're killing me."
You smile at him, lean forward and kiss him as you wrap one hand around the base of his cock and slip him inside you.
"Ah, fuck!" He cries out, and you rock your hips forward to get him deeper.
He makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl but he manages to stay still, trembling a little, watching you in awe, eyes darting between your breasts spilling out of your teddy and your face.
You roll your hips once, hesitantly, and he grunts again.
"Is that...is that good?"
"So good," he gasps. "So fucking good, noona."
You take his hands to put them on your hips and he grasps them almost desperately, fighting the urge to fuck up into you, balls tightening.
"I'm sorry. I...I never know exactly what to do." you admit, catching your lip between your teeth again.
He lets out another shaky laugh. "I could cum just from how tight you're gripping me, Jagi. Whoever said you weren't good on top is a fucking liar."
"Really?" You roll your hips again and he grits his teeth, hoping he isn't bruising your hipbones.
"Really? I can barely think, noona, you're so fucking beautiful, so hot and tight…"
"You feel so big," you moan, hips moving faster, your ass bouncing against his thighs and he cries out your name.
"Noona," he gasps. "Y/n, you're so perfect, so...nnngh, I can't hold it much longer-"
"Me either," you gasp, and he bounces you on his cock, finally letting himself buck up into you, sloppy, grinding his pelvis against yours with every thrust.
When you start to pulse around him, crying out his name over and over, he can't stop it, he's coming and murmuring praises in your ear. "Fuck, Jagiya, so good, so pretty, I love...love the way you move," he stutters out, and you collapse against his chest, panting against him.
"Was I...did I do okay?"
Taehyung can't help but laugh, rubbing your back in circles.
He kisses your temple. "Amazing. I don't think I've ever cum that hard."
You lean up and smile at him and it makes his heart seize in his chest.
He ends up in the shower with you and he can't help kissing you over and over, trailing his hands down your body, ends up with his fingers hooked inside your cunt, fucking his cum deeper into you while you're gasping.
It makes his heart feel light when you cry out his name again and clench around his fingers and he's half hard again before the water goes cool.
You go down on your knees and he swallows hard. "Noona…. noona you don't have to-" He chokes out.
“Practice makes perfect, right,” you say, and smirk up at him, and he wonders if you know how whipped he is for you, if you’re teasing him, but then you guide his cock into your mouth and he can’t think anymore, bracing himself against the shower wall with one palm.
His legs are shaking when he steps out of the shower and you’ve swallowed every drop, but he tugs you up and kisses you so hard his lips might bruise, heart swelling with love, and he lets himself feel it, lets himself pretend this isn’t all about you feeling better about yourself so that you can meet someone new.
He goes to get dressed and you stop him, shaking your head, biting at your bottom lip again.
“Will you stay?” You ask, casting your eyes down as if he’ll say no, as if he could ever say no, and he slides into bed with you naked, his heart pounding when you rest your head on his chest.
“Thank you,” you murmur against his chin, planting a kiss there that’s so sweet his heart aches. “Thank you for being here for me, making me feel better.”
“I’ll always be here for you, noona. As long as you need me.”
“Promise?”
He feels like his heart will burst when you snuggle into his arms, breath warm against his throat.
“Promise,” he says, and he ends up regretting that promise quite a bit in the coming weeks.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Gendry pours over the tiny slip of parchment again and again. His fingers trace the letters he cannot read. He has the four short sentences memorized. He does not need to know how to read to feel the dread that the words seep into his bones.
