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jeonbots · 3 years

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AJAR (1) | Jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook - fem. reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: demon!jungkook, nogitsune!jungkook, troubled!oc, minor character death, mentions of death, mention of a car accident, oc keeps nightmare-ing, jungkook is a fear demon, nogitsunes love chaos, mentions of sex, drinking, swearing, explicit sexual content such as oral (f receiving), fingering, breast playing, nipple sucking; dark rooms, blood, wounds, drugging, taehyung is a prick i'm sorry, poor oc just wants to sleep peacefully, jk won't let her, partying, overuse of the pet name ‘sugarplum’

words: 5k

a.n.: heyyyy! ik i was supposed to post that wizards of wavery place au but i havent finished it yet, i wasn't happy with it so i decided to change it up a bit. this story however has been in my drafts for about a year sooo here's the first part! it's gonna be a 2 part story :)))) enjoy

part two

/!\ UNEDITED /!\

—

You don’t remember the first time it happened. Or vaguely. Maybe five, six months ago? You’re not sure. But you do remember the darkness and the loneliness you felt at that moment. When you closed your eyes and you felt your body fall in an endless hole, skin itching uncomfortably. You had realized it itched because it was on fire, agony screeching out of your mouth and resonating in– in nothingness. And then you saw it. Its black, mundane eyes staring back at you like it was a hunter and you were its prey. You felt like suffocating until you had dug your nails into your palms hard to wake yourself up. Your body had jerked forward and you had screamed your lungs out until your throat burned, the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably. From this moment forward, you hadn’t sleep an entire night without waking up crying out loud in the middle of the night, your friend rushing to you. The first week, it was the same dream. The fall, your body on fire, the suffocating air, the piercing black eyes and your anxious and frightened awaking state.

The eighth night, you opened your eyes and found yourself on a cold floor, darkness surrounding you. You blinked a few times before adjusting to the poor lighting and suddenly your body shivered as you felt someone– or something– watching you intensely. You turned your head sideways trying to find the source of your discomfort but nothing was there. Until you heard it. A laughter. It was more of a snicker really, but it ran through your whole being, shaking your insides. The voice that had mocked you out loud had been so cold and dark, almost resembling a demon that you flinched. You tried to get on your feet but the cry that broke through you stopped you. You plopped back down on the floor, looking down at your body, taking in the deep cut and the blood pouring out of your right thigh.

“Help me! Please!” You cried, tears running down your face.

No response.

You lowered your head and sobbed. “I want to wake up.” You whispered, tears soaking your shirt.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. You weren’t sure. You just knew that you had stopped crying at some point. The wound on your leg didn’t seem to stop bleeding and you felt the life force being poured out of you everytime blood gushed out of your leg. You had laid back down on the cold marble, eyes closed and your arms and legs splayed out on the ground, resembling a starfish. The snicker from earlier returned and you abruptly opened your eyes, going in a sitting position and frenetically whipping your head around the area, searching for the source of your torments.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

The mocking grew closer and louder, and before you knew you were pulled back down on your back, breathe knocking out of you by the sheer force of the impact. You felt your arms move on their own accord, coming to lay against your sides as slender fingers grabbed your ankle and dragged you across the room, ignoring your pleas and cries for help.

“Let me in, sugarplum.”

It was softer than the snicker, but you still caught the dark timbre lying underneath.

“Who–”

Your body suddenly came to a halt and when you looked up, a large figure was towering over you. The jolt of surprise coming out of your mouth when the stranger bent down didn’t go unnoticed as you could make out rosy lips smirking right at you in the darkness. You shuddered as the stranger passed their fingers up your leg, ghosting over your wound before pressing down on it harshly with his palm. You cried out and tried to back off but your attempts were futile as two strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, throwing you over a strong shoulder as they began to walk to some direction, you didn’t really know. You thrashed in the stranger’s hold, crying even more than before and before you knew, you were carelessly thrown on a mattress. Seconds later you heard footsteps and the click of a door, meaning you had been locked up in some room.

You sighed shakily as you glanced around the room. On your right, there was a small dusty bedside table with one drawer, a small lamp put on top of it and a box of matches right next to it. In the corner of the room, you could make out a maroon desk with some journals sprawled out on top of it and next to it a door closed, probably the one the stranger used to bring you here. However, on the opposite wall to your right there was another door. This one was slightly open. You frowned and forced yourself to get off the mattress, struggling to get on your feet. The second you were standing your legs gave away and you fell forward, landing on the nearest wall as your palms impacted your fall. The wall rubbed harshly against your skin as you let out a small cry, gasping at the pain running throughout your entire body.

How could a dream feel so real?

You brushed the thoughts off and started walking towards what you thought was your only way out of there, even if you knew deep down that it was not. You still were pretty much pressed against the wall, slowly making your way towards the strange door. When you finally reached it, you pressed a hand firmly against the wall as the other went to shakily grab the handle.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sugarplum.”

You froze.

No. Please.

You didn’t move. Not an inch. Not even to open the door completely or to turn around to meet your captor. But you sensed him shifting closer until his front was pressed against your back, an arm snaking around your waist to keep you close as you closed your eyes instinctively. His breathe fanned over your shoulder, lips brushing against your ear.

“Do you really want to face your biggest fears now?” He whispered.

“Please... let me go...” You whimpered.

“This is not the way out, sugarplum.”

He grabbed at your hips and spun you around and you yelped when you were met with familiar black eyes. Your own eyes grew wide and you took a few steps back until your back hit the wall softly. Even in all this darkness, the only thing you could make out about his appearance was complete dark and cold set of eyes.

“If you want out,” he followed your steps until he was hovering above your fragile and wounded form, “you just gotta let me in.” He ducked his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, nipping at your earlobe.

“Who are you?” You breathe out, staring at an invisible dot at the wall opposite to the one you’re pressed against.

He chuckled against your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. Yeah, that was straight up demonic.

He pulled his head out of your neck and leaned an arm on one side of your head against the wall and brought the other one around your jaw, lifting your head up to meet his intimidating gaze.

“Your worst nightmare, sugarplum.”

Then he laughed. It rang loud enough in your ear and you could hear the darkness in his mocking tone as he turned around and walked away from you. And suddenly, you were screaming. Screaming as you sat up in familiar warmth, hands fisting your sheets and tears running down your face. Realization dawn upon you as your cries had lowered in volume and you quickly pushed the covers aside, relief washing over you as your right thigh was not wounded. No blood, no horrible deep cut that made you want to puke. Your breathing was labored as you whimpered, the door of your room opening in a hurry.

“Fuck.” Your friend cursed out before making her way to you, sitting on the bed.

“I–I’m fine, I’m okay. It’s okay.” You avoided her gaze, hand coming to wipe off the tears on your red cheeks.

“No, you’re not Y/N. How long are you gonna keep this up? It’s been a whole fucking week and I don’t fucking know what’s happening to you. It scares the shit out of me.” Henri softly grabbed your head in her two hands, turning your head to meet her gaze as she rubbed your cheeks with her thumbs in a comforting way.

You breathed out shakily. “I think I’m going crazy.” You whispered, lower lip trembling as the tears threatened to spill out again.

“Let’s get you some help. Please.” She pleaded as she bore her eyes into yours. You nodded after a long minute and you saw the look of relief wash over your best friend’s face. She leaned forward as she pressed a kiss to your forehead then engulfing you in his arms. You rested your head on her shoulder as she rubbed your back.

“So, what happened before the incident?”

Three weeks later you were in seated in a beige sofa– a pretty comfy one, you had to admit– for your fourth therapy session with an older woman facing you on her baby pink armchair, her auburn hair styled up in a neat bun, a white dress-shirt tucked in a surprisingly colorful long skirt covering her legs as she had crossed one over the other. You learned after your first session that she liked fashion, noticing that her outfits were always on point and that she definitely should give you some advice. When you had woken up this morning, you had taken a quick shower and thrown on a grey sweater with matching grey sweatpants, not bothering to put make-up on. Why would you? You were about to talk about your deepest fears with a total stranger. You were glancing at the clock hung up on the wall nervously before she spoke up again at your silence.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Y/N.” Her tone was soft and you felt your throat tighten.

You cleared your throat rather awkwardly. “Uh, I was out with some friends.” You nodded mostly to yourself but she hummed, telling you that she was all ears even though she was sometimes glancing down at her notepad to write something. “And, uh, there was this new club that opened on South Lake. We wanted to check it out and we were dressed accordingly so... we went. When we arrived there, the club was pretty full and we lost track of each other at some point... Uh, and I was pretty drunk. So I made out with a friend of mine and we uh, fucked. Yeah, pretty intense fuck if you ask me.” You laugh awkwardly as you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. She was comforting, somehow.

“So yeah, I fucked the guy then I called my br-”

The words died in your throat as you froze. Clarisse felt you tense under her stare but nothing changed on her face.

“You were going to talk about your older brother, Jason?”

You lowered your head and started fidgeting with your fingers placed in your lap, gulping as you felt your eyes water. You hadn’t realized in your storytelling that you were going to have to bring up that subject at some point. You nodded shakily, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I should’ve never done that.” You whispered and the last words came out in a broken whimper. The woman opened her mouth, about to talk but was cut off by your sudden voicing.

“Is it over yet?” Clarisse jumped slightly at the way you had abruptly raised your head, looking at the awful clock as you brought your hands to your face to wipe off the tears with the sleeves of your sweater.

“Y/N–”

“Oh,” you fake-heartedly laughed, cheeks still stained with wetness, “would you look at that! It’s been an hour already.”

“Wait–”

“Goodbye, Ms. Blackwood.”

You had already grabbed your bag and bolted out of the door as Clarisse sat on her chair, dumbfounded.

You never went back to therapy. A small part of you felt bad for leaving the kind woman in her confusion but the other part– the larger one– was relieved you didn’t have to go through painful memories anymore.

College isn’t as hard as you’ve imagined. Ever since your brother’s death you had found the world of books and words fascinating. At first, your roommate would ogle at you like you were some kind of wild animal who had escaped from the zoo then she understood the change in behavior. You were quite the party girl before the car crash; always going out with friends, having fun in summer homes or going to frat parties. And now you’ve become what people call a ‘bookworm’. Of course, it doesn’t take your mind off the horrendous and painful nightmares you’re having every night, but it helps get yourself distracted from the intense ache in your chest. At first you had tried booze to keep your mind off the terrible monsters haunting you but all it did was giving you painful aftermath headaches and a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach. The last time you got really drunk, you threw up your entire stomach in some random front lawn and you collapsed on the grass, dazing off to a sleeping state. And your eyes closed slowly until you woke up in a familiar dark room, pleading and begging to be released.

You swore you’d never drink again.

“Y/N!” A warm breathe tickles the side of your face and you turn your head sideway to face the person who’s arm is draped around your shoulders, the other coming to settle around your waist, clinging to you loosely.

“You’re drunk,” you state, looking at your friend’s giggling form.

“And you’re not,” she pouts as she leans a bit more on your frame. “Come on, get drunk with us Y/N.” Her words are slurred.

“Henri,” you sigh. Your nightmares aren’t unknown to your friend, in fact, when it first happened, she was the first person you called, your sobbing making her heart ache through the receiver. She had decided to join you that night, knocking at your door fifteen minutes later, hands full of junk food and candy. You had spent majority of the night laughing and eating your fears away, Henri wanting to make you feel better. After that night, she’d decided to move in with you.

You look down your half-empty cup, the brown-ish liquid taunting you. You can practically see its mocking smile, waves of gold beaming through the dark beverage. “You know I won’t.” Before she can protest though, her warmth disappears and you hear her gasp and you see from the corner of your eyes the boy you recognize as her boyfriend Justin pressing his lips against hers, silently rolling your eyes.

The living room is packed with people grinding against each other, kissing in corners or going up the stairs, probably to fuck their sexual frustration away. Justin’s frat house always throws the most anticipated parties in the campus, and of course Henri wouldn’t miss it for the world. They’re like– the must-go parties, house full of free booze and weed in every corner, half of the campus always attends them. You hadn’t gone to a party in forever though, still traumatized by the last time you were blackout drunk but Henri had insisted the whole week and you said yes just a few hours ago. You didn’t feel like dressing up but she almost screamed at you to at least make an effort and you settled on a high-waisted black denim skirt that stops mid-thigh and a black tube top tucked underneath with some white sneakers after a long hour of Henri rummaging through your closet.

“Y/N!”

Turning your head to the familiar voice, you smile as the dark-haired man you’ve grown to appreciate the company of walks towards you with his own beaming smile.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” He engulfs you in his arms as you giggle before awkwardly patting his back with your free hand.

“I’ve missed you too, Taehyung.”

Justin was the one to introduce you to Taehyung at his birthday party three years ago. He had been Justin’s drug dealer for quite a few years and he had been hooking you up ever since. Deciding to stop doing drugs ultimately made you stop calling Taehyung for weed and cocaine, and you two lost touch as the months went by.

“It’s been– what, about a year?” He says as he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck. You briefly glance at his appearance, loose black dress shirt and the tight fitting jeans hanging on his hips. The shirt’s collar is large enough to have his collarbone peeking out of the fabric, your thighs clenching under your skirt. You skillfully hide your evident arousal as you learned to do over the years and look back up only to find yourself squirming when you notice his lingering gaze on your breasts covered by the thin fabric of the tube top. He slowly licks his lips and you bite back a whine, your slick arousal already starting to seep through your panties and onto your inner thighs.

“Ten months,” you correct with an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” he looks back into your eyes at your words and nods before looking around the place, not an ounce of shame taking over his features for being caught staring. “Uh, I haven’t had the chance to, uh, say it but I’m sorry for your loss.”

You gulp as you look down at your drink. “Thanks–”

“W-well not the chance but you know what I mean.”

You giggle as you shake your head. “It’s okay. Thank you, Tae. It really means a lot.”

Memories flood through your mind as you recall the times you would get high with Henri, Justin, Taehyung and a few other friends before the accident, all spread out on the couch and the carpet of some random house as you’d talk and laugh about basically anything. You’d say those were the happiest moments of your life and you’d do anything to turn back time and have this short yet vivid moment of happiness running through your veins just one more time, dopamine spreading through your whole being. And those nights you had spent in Taehyung’s bed, his cock pounding your walls as he sucked bruises onto your skin, the delicious drag of his length sending you over the edge.

As if answering your– unwanted –prayers, Taehyung slowly approaches you with a sly smirk, a hand propped on the counter beside your hip as he leans over your figure. You look up at him quizzically.

“I thought maybe,” he licks his lips as he glances down at your lips and back at your eyes, “you’d want to have some fun.”

You raise an eyebrow as his free hand digs into his jeans’ pocket, a small plastic bag dangling from his fingers as he lifts his hand at eyes level. You’d recognize those blue pills anywhere.

“No.”

“C’mon, Y/N. Just one, like old times.”

The hand that was on the counter comes hovering your neck, his slender fingers softly caressing the skin there. You shudder as his palm grabs your nape more firmly, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck.

“Taehyu–”

His sudden lips on your ear clamps your mouth shut and your eyes flutter, the lids closing as he starts to suck on the lobe. The grip on your half-empty cup weakens and you hastily put it down on the counter behind you, a few droplets of alcohol spilling on the marble. He presses his chest against yours as he starts kissing down your neck, licking and sucking until he reaches your collarbone where he vacuums the skin in his pink-tinted lips, a whimper making its way past your own. His arms snake around your waist and press you even harder against him as you grab his biceps for leverage, his hard-on poking at your thigh as you gradually let your head fall back.

You don’t notice the small blue pill he manages to sneakily drop into your beverage, its shape dissolving in the drink to slowly disappear into the abyss of its intoxication.

“Holy fuck.”

Your back arched against the mattress and your eyes closed in unadulterated bliss as Taehyung laps at your clit, you moan shamelessly as your hips jerk at each flick of his tongue against your cunt. He hungrily devours your sex and your buzzed state doesn’t protest even after your third orgasm. You still haven’t touched his cock.

“Ho– fuck– Tae, stop, I can’t– ngh– too much.”

He reluctantly leans away from your pussy, mouth and chin covered in your juices as he hovers your fucked out state, his smirk growing wider as he wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

“I still gotta fuck you full of my cum, baby.”

You release a shaky breath as you bite your lower lip, one hand seductively traveling down the expense of his chest through his shirt as your lust-painted eyes drink in his features. As you reach down his jeans, you subtly grab his crotch as you palm his hardened length, his breathing growing heavier.

“You’re still that needy?” He chuckles and you nod, boring your eyes into his as you lean forward to pepper kisses on his jaw.

You whine when his deft fingers rub your slit, coating his digits with your cum. “Fuck me, please. It’s been so long.”

“I know baby, I know.” He suddenly shoves two fingers in your sloppy hole, a moan slipping past your lips. “Gotta stretch you first for my cock.”

The sudden yet pleasurable stretch has your eyes rolling back in your skull, his skillful fingers pumping in and out of your heat at a delirious pace as your hands fist the sheets beneath you. His thumb comes rubbing at your clit and your hips jerk in his palm, loud moans escaping your parted lips. The stretch of a third finger in your walls has your orgasm spiraling at full speed, untamed pleasure hitting you for the fourth time tonight, your lips parting in a silent scream as you plop your head back down on the sheets.

“Fuck,” the man curses under his breath as he lazily fucks you through your climax, his own hard-on becoming way too painful. You slowly catch your breath as his fingers slip out of your heat and he presses his hips into yours, your thighs caging his waist.

You smile up at him through closed eyes, your high slowly descending and when your heartbeat regains its original pace, you open your eyes.

And your smile falters.

Familiar cold dark orbs are staring right back at you instead of the warm brown of Taehyung’s pupils, and you try to squirm away but find it impossible as the same invisible force pins you down.

“I– you–”

He chuckles.

“Sugarplum, long time no see.” His hand strokes your hair and you whimper, your legs still locked around the man’s waist.

“Please,” you whisper weakly, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you, sugarplum.”

In this new lighting and his proximity, you can see the man’s face clearer than any of the previous encounters. As he leans forward to nose at your cheek, you can finally see his features and your lips part in shock.

His eyes are beautiful. A dazing shape, his dark orbs morphing into soft doe eyes, the tip of his nose almost kissable and his lips– God, his lips look delicious. Soft, plump lips so inviting, and you can’t help the hand hovering his face, your fingers gently caressing his plumpness. His dark hair falls messily around his head and you have the sudden urge to comb your fingers through his locks just to feel the silk-like strands through your digits.

He is demonically magnificent.

His free hand reaches to envelop your curious one, his eyes boring into yours. You shudder under his gaze and instead of cowering, you bring your other hand to push a strand away from his forehead.

“See? I’m no monster.” He smiles sweetly– almost too sweetly– and you gulp.

“What do you want from me?”

“I’ve told you countless times, sugarplum.”

His hand slides to your wrist in a harsh grip and you gasp as the other hand curls around your neck, squeezing your throat as he cuts off your air supply.

“Let me in.”

You whimper as the grip on your throat is unbearable, making you writhe under his hold. His hips ruth into yours and your naked cunt rubs against the material of his pants harshly, the outline of his obviously hard cock digging into your slit. As you feel yourself slowly falling into unconsciousness, he releases your throat and ascends down to your collarbone, reaching your tube top and pulling it down, a moan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your bare breasts. Each of his hand cups your mounds, his thumbs and forefingers pinching each pebbled nipple as you whine, your teeth caging your lower lip in a futile attempt to keep quiet. He notices that and releases a breast to harshly slap your thigh around his waist. You jolt in surprise and look at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t hold back. You sounded so sweet earlier.”

He doesn’t let you respond as he dives his head in, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck on the mound as he squeezes the other with his hand, pinching the nub in between his fingers. The moan that escapes your lips is unraveling, your hips automatically grinding against his in hope to find purchase. When he’s done with one breast, he does the same to the other one before pulling away, a hand stroking your hair affectionately as he stares at you.

“So beautiful.”

The blush on your cheeks isn’t going unnoticed and he smirks, his gaze lingering on your breasts heaving due to your ragged breathing. He then looks back up at your face before leaning forward and gently pecking your lips in a close-mouthed kiss, once, twice, then he starts trailing down your jaw to your neck, sucking bruises for everyone to see. You whine as you thread your fingers in his hair, and before you register it he has plunged two fingers in your heat, your stomach clenching to oversensitivity.

You moan as you buck your hips in his hand, surprised to even have enough energy to respond to the demon’s ministrations. His fingers are thick enough to hit all the right places and when his thumb strokes your engorged clit, your fifth orgasm of the night couldn’t have come sooner, a drawn-out moan escaping your swollen lips. As your walls squeeze his fingers deeply in your pussy, he groans above you before planting kisses down your throat. Leaning away from your neck as he pulls his fingers out, your arousal drips down his digits and you see strings of your slick juices connecting them when he parts them. Embarrassment manifesting in the red of your cheeks, you stare at the man happily lapping at his arousal-coated fingers, his pink lips wrapped around the skin.

“H–how did I get here?” You quietly ask as soon as your breathing came to normal. His furrowed eyebrows encourage the next words flowing past your lips, his digits falling free from the grip of his lips.

“I– I wasn’t asleep nor drunk and–”

The entire evening you made sure that you weren’t drinking too much, even had Justin’s special party booze out of tonight’s menu. Surely, you would remember if you had fallen asleep. Wait, had you passed out while Taehyung was fucking you? No way, you weren’t drunk. You hadn’t taken any substance or drugs or pills-

Pills. Blue, soft, dangerous pills.

Realization hits you in the guts and you suddenly find it hard to breathe. The way he had kissed your neck, your momentarily forgotten cup on the counter, his wandering hands–

“He,” you whisper, breath hitching as you choke out a whimper, “he drugged me?”

Gently, he places a kiss on your cheek. “Sugarplum.”

“He– he drugged me, and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” The aching in your chest is too much for your heavy state and you start blinking away tears you didn’t know had started to pool at the corner of your eyes.

He sighs above you, his breath fanning over your face. Plopping down on the space next to you on the bed as he frees himself from the grip your thighs had around him, his hand gently strokes your naked waist until he reaches your breast, softly rubbing the skin as his thumb lightly flicks over your nipple. In an attempt to soothe your pain, you assume.

Trust is overrated, you conclude.

Here you are; crying over a man you’d learn to like over the past few years as the man you’ve been running from comforts your burning heart.

“It is,” he affirms and you don’t even question how he managed to answer your unspoken thoughts. The sob that breaks past your lips is heart wrenching and you bring your hands to your face, covering the entirety of it as the tears flow freely down your face.

He turns to you and envelops your shaken form in his embrace, your chest pressed against his as he runs a soothing hand down the expanse your bare back. And that’s how you fall asleep that night, without the nightmare that usually haunts your sleepless mind and instead, you find solace in the very man you’d grown to despise.

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