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#jimin popping OFF
seoul-bros · 8 months
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10 Best K-Pop B-Sides of 2023: Face Off
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youtube
Also new fan edit version of the song came out today.
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Post Date: 23/07/2023
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userjiminie · 4 months
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patiently waiting for your reaction 👉👈
my honest to god reaction
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seokjinsonlyone · 11 months
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angel pt 1 eats likeeeeeeee i’m sorry it’s so good
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cutielycheepie · 1 year
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Here's what I thought of Jimin's solo 'FACE'
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Of course he was amazing, he's Jimin!
When the pre-single 'Set Me Free Pt.2' came out, I thought that for sure I wouldn't like the album (because the sound was quite different from what I expected) but then I saw the title track trailer and, nevermind, guess I'll love it after all.
And love it I did! I listened to Like Crazy... like crazy. It was everything I love in one, somehow! This is my favorite BTS solo song now, I love My Time but Like Crazy just has to take the crown. It's the best.
Like Crazy
It started out mellow and built it's beat from there, the "watch me go" part always gets me hyped up. The ending is forever my favorite part though, I sing along to it without a fail. Everything about this song just makes me listen to it again and again, and don't even get started on the MV! It's fun and the visuals are just divine.
Overall song: 11/10
Face-off
I think this is what I expected from the album after listening to Set Me Free Pt.2. It's actually good! I like the shift that the beginning took, even though I can't tell the purpose of it. It's nice! I don't have much to say but it's definitely a vibe :D
Overall song : 9/10
Alone
I think this song fits Jimin's voice very well, slow and soft. It's not a song I'd listen to just because I want to, but it's certainly good. I really like the sound effects in it, I don't know how to explain it, but the "day and night, repeated fall" part was so satisfying.
Overall song: 8/10
Set Me Free Pt.2
Of course I started liking it after it was all over my YT page.
Okay but really, I didn't expect to start liking it so much! I mean it's definitely not one of my favorites, but I listen to it and sing it for no reason, so I'll take that as a good sign! It also makes me want to dance, which is another good sign 💃
Overall song: 8.5/10
FACE
I think it was brilliant! Like Crazy is my new forever favorite solo song from BTS.
Overall album: 9/10
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gemstarstarlight · 1 year
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Me: is trying to find a gifset in the newest episode of Suchwita where Yoongi says his English isn’t very good and he knows the English curse words best, which is a second-language mood and objectively funny.
Me: can’t find it in the usual tags (suchwita, Yoongi, Jimin, etc)
Me: searches “face-off jimin” because they were discussing Jimin’s song with that title when Yoongi mentioned it.
Me: gets this
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jooniez · 2 years
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RAP LINE GOING IN ONE RIGHT AFTER THE OTHER ON ‘YET TO COME’ THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FOR. THIS IS WHY I AM HERE TODAY. I AM A RAP LINE STAN FIRST AND A HUMAN SECOND!
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bonniehooper · 4 months
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Top Picks of 2023
My Top 20 Favorite K-Pop Albums - #15: Jimin “Face”
Release Date: March 24th, 2023
Favorite Tracks: "Face-Off", "Like Crazy", "Alone", and "Set Me Free Pt.2"
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forestlion · 7 months
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why is V releasing his thirteenth boring jazz ballad plus MV within a week. enlist NOW
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gimmethatagustd · 8 months
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wanna watch a sex tape | kth (ft. pjm)
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When Taehyung invited you over to watch a movie, you didn’t think the movie he had in mind would be your sex tape… And you definitely didn’t think his roommate would want to watch, too.
↳ pairing: taehyung x reader x jimin
↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | frenemies to lovers | strangers to lovers | smut | a lil bit of fluff
↳ wc/date: 6.9k | August 2023
↳ warnings: no pronouns/gendered language for oc except "pussy", namjoon has mono and it's not the album (hahahaaa), homemade pornography, Big Dick Tae, exhibitionism, humiliation kink (but it's like... unintentional? tae isn't mean or anything), handjob, blowjob, deepthroating, facefucking, crying, anal and vaginal fingering, unprotected anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, creampie, subspace, sub!reader, soft!dom tae, switch!jimin ig, an insane amount of lube like way too much, they're all arguing with each other the entire time, tae tries to deepthroat a camcorder
↳ notes: lol yeahhh soooo... idk what's up with me and threesomes lately, but, uhhh, i'm too embarrassed to proofread this so i'll do it later hkjds
↳ masterlist / taglist
↳ what was jai listening to? up! - lil vada & donnysolo
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The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist
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“It’s just a movie,” he’d said. “What’s wrong with two friends watching a movie? It’s Netflix and chill in the most literal way, I promise,” he’d insisted. 
So why does Taehyung have pulled up what appears to be a video editing software instead of Netflix? 
You sit with your back against Taehyung’s headboard and your legs tucked beneath you while you watch him place his laptop on the bed in front of you. The moment he presses play, you feel all the blood drain from your body. 
“Kim Taehyung, turn that the fuck off!” you screech. You lunge forward to slap the space bar, effectively pausing the video. “Why? Why why why why why?” 
“You said I could pick the movie,” Taehyung says with a slight pout. 
“This is not a fucking movie!”  
There on the screen, with a fucking sepia filter, is a still of Taehyung’s fingers lodged deep between your thighs. The tendons and veins in his wrist and forearm pop to the surface from the thrusting motion. In the second it took to pause the video, you’d heard your own breathy moans blare from the laptop’s speakers.
This is probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you in your entire life. Probably in anyone’s life! You’re living a nightmare. 
“You’re right, it’s not a movie,” Taehyung sighs. He leans back on his palms and lets his head loll to the side as he stares at you blankly, almost as if he’s bored. It’s enraging how hot he looks. “It’s just raw footage. I have a lot of edits to make before I could call it a movie. For starters, I already hate the filter.”
Ears and cheeks aflame with invisible heat, you dig your fingers into the bed’s fluffy comforter to prevent yourself from clawing Taehyung’s eyes out. He’s genuinely insufferable and has been for as long as you’ve known him. 
You don’t know how you keep finding yourself in these unfortunate situations with Taehyung. The first time, he provoked you. How could you have reasonably walked away from him at Hoseok’s party when it was in your own fucking apartment? After he fucked your pussy and took a photo when you came? What were you supposed to have done?! You’d already tried kicking him out. The little shit just wiggled his way under your skin and made you itch. 
The whole striptease thing hadn’t been your fault, either. Hoseok had a whole conversation with you about not “scaring away” his friends as if it’s somehow on you that his friends are all annoying. But you love Hoseok, no matter how difficult he makes your life sometimes, and you told yourself that you would do better to be nice. Helping Taehyung with his college photography assignment seemed like a nice way to hold out an olive branch to the asshole. How could you have known that it would end with, with, with a sex tape?
Because that’s what this is on Taehyung’s laptop. A fucking sex tape. 
You made a sex tape with Kim fucking Taehyung, the most infuriating man on the planet, and now you’re sitting on his bed while he explains his editing software like this is the most normal thing you could be doing on a Friday night. 
“Are you even listening?” Taehyung narrows his eyes at you. His fingers hover over the trackpad, posed to click on the video’s play button. 
You swat his hand away, and he yelps. 
“Stop it right now,” you snap. “We are not watching this.” 
You’re so embarrassed that your entire body is on fire. The skin at the nape of your neck prickles, and your stomach swoops so severely that you’re afraid you might pass out from how difficult it is to inhale. It doesn’t help that Taehyung’s previous look of irritation has morphed into something slimy and smug. 
Of course, the universe is never on your side. Assuming Taehyung will let this go is nothing more than a pipe dream. 
“You’re that upset about it?” Taehyung isn’t sincere when he asks. 
Using the arrow keys, he fast-forwards through the video. Despite your embarrassment, you can’t take your eyes off the frames as they quickly flash across the screen. Taehyung lingers momentarily on a part of the video that makes the heat in your face travel south. 
Most people look better in real life than in photos, but Taehyung is flawless no matter the circumstance. His sharp, dark eyes stare back at you through the screen. From the angle his head is tilted, his eyes have a narrowed, almost sleepy appearance as he looks through his eyelashes at the camera. You can only see the top half of his face because the lower half is buried between your thighs. 
You straighten your posture and clasp your hands in your lap. Forcing yourself to look away from the laptop is hard, and you hate yourself for being so affected by the image of Taehyung eating you out. It was a fluke. A mistake. Something fueled by lust and some weird desire for you to prove that… what? You could fuck him, and it mean nothing? 
“This is the best part.”
You don’t want to look again, but you do. It isn’t Taehyung’s comment that draws you toward the laptop once more, but another voice. Your own. 
“I liked you better when you were crying and begging for me like a good boy.” 
In the moment, you thought you’d been snappy and clever when you said that line – meant to be an insult more than anything. Listening to it now, you’re ashamed to hear something far more… suggestive to your tone. Had it really been like that? Or are you overanalyzing now?
“I can still be a good boy for you like this…”
Taehyung’s rough, fucked-out voice makes your entire body tense. It was fucking hot when he said it then, and hearing it again only confirms that, yes, it was fucking hot. 
The sound of skin slapping against skin and broken moans flood the room. Watching yourself on video is surreal, a version of you that you wouldn’t otherwise ever know. Most people live their entire lives without knowing what they look like when they’re having sex – not like this. And here you are, watching a version of you fuck yourself on Taehyung’s cock in the very bed you sit on right now. 
“Honestly, I’m offended that you don’t even appreciate how well I edited these shots. They all flow so seamlessly; didn’t you notice?” 
For some reason, the pout Taehyung wears tugs at your heart in a way you wish it wouldn’t. He just looks so genuine. 
“Taehyung,” you speak sternly, hoping you can set the tone for a more serious conversation. Even though your face isn’t in the video, you’re still a little nervous about what Taehyung will do with it. 
Another part of you is very turned on because the video is still playing, and even though you’re looking at Taehyung, you can see the movement out of the corner of your eye. It only gets worse when Taehyung’s moans grow louder. 
“Yeah?” 
Taehyung’s lips part slightly. You watch him run his tongue against the inside of his cheek with your heart hammering in your chest and heat pooling between your legs. Taehyung exhales in real life, the sound soft and shaky, at the exact moment he cums in the video. 
Whatever you were about to say evaporates from your mind like mist in the wind because he sounds so pretty. 
Fucking hell. 
“What?” Taehyung tries again to get an answer from you, but you can’t speak. 
By now, you’re thoroughly wet, to the point that your thighs feel damp from being pressed together. Your underwear is uncomfortable when you shift, and you wish you’d worn more than a pair of baggy basketball shorts. They go well with your cute cropped hoodie and the Nikes you left at Taehyung’s front door. At least they’re black, so there’s no chance your arousal will be seen through your clothes. 
The last thing you need is for Taehyung to know you’re turned on.
“Nothing,” you finally respond, tearing your gaze from his face. 
The new view is worse, though. You immediately look down and see the last frame of the video. Taehyung’s cock rests on your bare ass, cum splattered on your cheeks and lower back, his cock shiny and slick. You breathe in sharply and seal your fate because Taehyung immediately pounces on that tiny detail. 
“I know you liked it,” Taehyung goads, his pout morphing into the classic grin you’ve grown to both hate and love. 
“No, I didn’t.” 
“Don’t lie.” 
You twist around to face him fully. “Listen here, you little piece of–” 
It’s like deja vu, really, how your eyes fall to look at the bulge in Taehyung’s pants. This time, he’s wearing light grey sweatpants that are a little tight in the crotch, showing a clear outline of his cock resting along his thigh. The fabric at the head of his cock is darker than the rest, a wet spot that has your body throbbing with desire. 
Perhaps from the attention, Taehyung’s cock kicks up, twitching in the confines of his sweats. He lets out a quiet, breathy laugh. 
“I’m listening.” 
Taehyung reaches over to squeeze your knee when you still don't speak. Slowly, he glides his hand up your thigh. Once he reaches the hem of your shorts, he lifts his gaze from where his hand is hot on your skin to your face. His eyes lock with yours as he slips his hand into the leg of your shorts and continues following the inside of your thigh. 
Despite Taehyung’s body heat, you shiver from his touch as he travels higher and higher. It tickles, but you bite your lip and force yourself to stay still. The only part of you that moves is your chest as you rapidly take shallow breaths. It does nothing to calm you down; if anything, it worsens everything. You’re working yourself up to the point that you’re gushing in your underwear.
Taehyung’s fingers trace along the elastic, and you know he can feel how soaked you are. His gaze weighs heavy on you, eyes dark and lidded. He presses his fingers against your underwear and drags them along your lips, lightly increasing his pressure to massage your clit. 
“Oh,” you let out with a gasp, digging your fingers into the comforter. You automatically open your legs further, allowing Taehyung better access. He continues rubbing your clit through your underwear, his movements too slow and light for your liking. “Taehyung…” 
“Hm?” He’s so fucking smug you want to slap him, but you also don’t want him to stop. 
“Just, fucking, just–” 
Your desperate request for him to just fucking finger you already is cut off by Taehyung’s bedroom door flying open. With an embarrassing scream, you practically leap off Taehyung’s bed. 
“Taehyungieeee! I was supposed to hang out with Namjoon hyung, but he canceled because he got fucking mono. Can you believe? Who gets mono at almost thirty years old? Seriously! I asked him who he’s been making out with, but he–” 
The dark-haired man stops midsentence with his jaw hanging off its hinges. Wide, unsuspecting eyes flit from your look of horror to the outline of Taehyung’s dick in his pants to Taehyung’s hand now resting on your knee. But what’s somehow the most embarrassing thing is that the man’s eyes eventually land on Taehyung’s laptop, where his dick and your ass are still on display. 
“Oh wow.” 
Taehyung lets out a long groan and lets his head roll backward. 
“This is exactly why I tell you to knock before you come in here.” 
“W-what!” The man sputters. “This is my fault?” 
After a moment of staring at the ceiling, Taehyung levels his gaze to stare at the man. “Did you knock?” 
The man looks pained when forced to say, “No…” 
You would rather die than be here right now. You watch the two men begin bickering about proper roommate etiquette because this is apparently Taehyung’s roommate, Jimin, who you didn’t know even existed. A convenient thing to leave out, right? Of course, Taehyung wouldn’t fucking tell you that there’s the possibility that someone might be in the apartment with you. 
“Well, what are you watching?” Jimin walks toward the bed to get a better look at Taehyung’s laptop. “Fuck, that guy’s cock is huge. What’s this on?” 
“Oh my god, Taehyung, make it go away!” You finally hiss, slapping Taehyung in the arm to make him do something.
Taehyung throws his head back in a fit of laughter, which makes you slap him even harder. 
“That’s me.” 
Jimin nearly chokes. “Excuse me?”
The look on Taehyung’s face is a mix of pride and mischief. He’s absolutely glowing, absorbing all the praise, even if it’s accidentally given. 
“That is my cock. And the ass…” Taehyung jabs his thumb in your direction, much to your displeasure. 
“Oh,” Jimin exclaims. “Your ass looks great.” 
“For fuck’s sake, I need to get out of here.” 
“No!” Taehyung reaches for your arm to keep you from getting up. “We haven’t even fully watched it yet.” 
You narrow your eyes and gesture in Jimin’s direction. Even if you wanted to watch the sex tape – which you definitely don’t – you can’t watch it with Taehyung’s roommate hovering over you like this. You don’t even understand why the guy is still here or how he and Taehyung can converse normally while Taehyung’s got a literal erection. 
Boys are so fucking weird. 
“Can I watch, too?” 
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. There’s no way, no fucking way. And yet Taehyung’s already nodding and scooting over for Jimin to sit on the other side of him. 
“I worked so hard on this, and it’s going unappreciated.” Taehyung glares at you. 
Before you can react, Taehyung has restarted the video. His hand migrates from your arm back down to your knee and squeezes lightly, maybe in an attempt to be comforting, but you’re already beginning to die inside from embarrassment. 
It doesn’t help that Jimin is gorgeous. You find yourself admiring him as he watches the video, which Taehyung has now turned on with full volume. Jimin’s eyes are glued to the screen. Occasionally, he makes little comments to praise Taehyung’s editing skills or point out how you and Taehyung have “great chemistry.” But the most intriguing part is when Jimin begins to squirm. 
It’s still early in the video, just after Taehyung starts eating you out, when you notice Jimin’s hand move to rest in his lap. It isn’t subtle how he adjusts his erection in his jeans, but he doesn’t know that you’re staring at him.
There’s something about knowing that this complete stranger is now hard because of watching your porn that rekindles the arousal buzzing inside you. It doesn’t help that Jimin and Taehyung are right; the video is hot. It’s ridiculously hot. 
Distracted, you don’t realize Taehyung’s attention is no longer on the video like Jimin’s is. Instead, he’s got his eyes on where his hand disappears into your shorts again. This time, he wiggles his fingers inside your underwear. 
The first press of his fingertips against your clit makes you moan, high-pitched and desperate. You immediately slap your hand over your mouth, and Taehyung chuckles. 
“Y’know, I was thinking…” Taehyung begins, noticing that Jimin’s now watching his fingers move in your shorts. “We should make another video.” 
“You should,” Jimin agrees immediately with a nod. It’s eager, without shame, and that alone makes your pussy throb for some reason. 
Are you into exhibitionism? Is that what this is? What the fuck is going on?
“No way,” you try to protest, but another moan comes from deep in your chest when Taehyung slips his middle finger inside you. 
“I could film it,” Jimin offers, as though finding a director is the issue. His chest rises rapidly as his pretty eyes roam your body. 
Just as before, you let your legs spread. By now, Taehyung isn’t trying to hide what he’s doing. He openly fingers you with his roommate sitting right there, watching. You lean back on your palms and let your head fall back when Taehyung squeezes your thigh with his other hand to hold you open. 
“Yeah, Chim, you film it,” Taehyung agrees. “Baby? Wanna do it now?” He slips a second finger inside you, and you think it’s unfair that he’s asking you this while fingers you because you’d probably do anything to get him to fuck you right now, whether you want to admit it or not. 
“Fuck you,” you hiss. “Fine.” 
With a grin, Taehyung removes his fingers from you. You want to complain, but he and Jimin are off the bed by the time you sit up again. You sit there, dumbfounded, as Taehyung heads to his closet. Jimin trails behind him, nodding at the instructions Taehyung gives him. 
The two return to the bed once they each have a camcorder. They’re smaller than the one Taehyung used before, sleeker, and more colorful compared to the all-black, more heavy-duty one from before. 
Taehyung sets his camera on the bed next to you while Jimin fiddles with his from where he stands at the edge of the bed. 
“Take your clothes off, baby.” 
You bite your lip at the term of endearment you’ve always told Taehyung not to call you, that he calls you anyway. This time, there’s something different about it. You watch him shred his clothes, tossing his t-shirt to the floor and then dropping his sweatpants. As you expected, he isn’t wearing underwear. The sight of his cock, so big and hard that it hangs heavy between his legs, makes you finally start moving. 
“Don’t tell me what to do,” you throw out just because you have to stay in character unless you want Taehyung to think you’re in love with him or something. 
But he grins like an idiot and kneels on the bed while he waits for you to strip. You thought it would be weird getting naked in front of a stranger, but excitement thrums through you as you think about Jimin’s eyes on you, filming you, while Taehyung fucks you. 
“Should we do introductions like they do in those casting videos?” Taehyung grins up at Jimin. 
The poor guy’s face is bright pink, and his forehead glistens with sweat. Nothing has even happened yet, but he’s completely hard and looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. His hands shake worse than yours had when Taheyung ate you out in the video. 
“Chim.” 
Jimin swallows but doesn’t speak. 
“Jimin,” Taehyung tries again. It seems like Taehyung has a knack for leaving people speechless. He moves to the edge of the bed, still on his knees, and leans forward slightly. Jimin must be too nervous to move because he stands completely still as Taehyung opens his mouth. 
You watch with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as Taehyung takes the flip screen of the camcorder into his mouth. All the while, he keeps his eyes locked on Jimin’s.
It’s so fucking hot you have to look away. 
Finally, something snaps. Jimin jerks backward, pulling the camera out of Taehyung’s mouth. 
“Tae!” He exclaims in disbelief, quickly using his sleeve to clean the screen. “What is wrong with you?” 
“If you wanna join us so bad, hurry up and take your clothes off.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. Your dick spoke for you.”  
Jimin takes his eyes off Taehyung to look at you. It’s an unspoken request you find yourself granting by nodding your head without even thinking. How could you deny a man that looks like that? Whatever happens, happens. But you know that you want them both if you can have them. The thought just never crossed your mind before. 
It seems that Taehyung has helped you learn a lot about yourself, like how you apparently get off on being embarrassed. 
“I don’t want to fuck you,” Jimin announces to Taehyung. He tries to look serious, but it’s hard not to laugh when his dick bobs from how quickly he tugged his jeans off his body. 
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck you either; shut up.” 
You thought it would be awkward having Taehyung and Jimin in bed with you, and it is, sort of. Uncharted territory is scary, no matter what it is. It must be evident that you’re feeling this way because Taehyung reaches for you. He pulls you close by the back of the head, and you think the kiss will be rough and charged. Instead, it’s soft. He moves his lips with yours in a gentle rhythm, something meant to be grounding and comforting. His other hand cradles the side of your face, and his thumb caresses your cheek. 
“You guys are so cute.” Jimin’s comment makes you pull back from Taehyung. 
“No, we’re not.” 
“Thank you.”
You scowl at Taehyung, but he’s still wearing that grin that’s getting harder to hate. It slowly fades into something darker once Taehyung finally looks at your body, eyes lingering on how shiny and wet your thighs are from him fucking you with his fingers. 
Taehyung bites his lip, reaching for the camcorder on the bed beside you. 
“Let me record Jimin fucking your face, baby.” 
You and Jimin gasp simultaneously, immediately turning your heads to look at each other. Even though it’s clear that Jimin was invited into this to have sex with you, too, for some reason, you thought Taehyung would be greedier. You thought he wouldn’t want to share, didn’t expect that he’d be the one calling the shots. 
Then again, it isn’t that surprising. Hasn’t Taehyung always called the shots? Sure, you let him, but he was good at it. A director. He’s in his element, you realize. 
You quickly realize, once Jimin’s cock is down your throat, that Jimin is the greedy one. He kneels directly in front of where you sit on the bed and digs his fingers into the back of your head to hold you still as he fucks your throat. 
“You’re doing such a good job, baby,” Taehyung murmurs. He kneels next to you, recording all the sloppy sounds and visuals of you messily gagging on Jimin’s cock while you jerk Taehyung off. 
Tears spill from your eyes as Jimin’s cock hits the back of your throat. You do your best to keep pumping Taehyung’s cock, but your rhythm falters. 
“Fuck, yes, swallow. Like that.” 
Jimin’s moans are different than Taehyung’s. While Taehyung’s moans are soft and deep, Jimin’s are high-pitched and erratic, coming in stunted waves rather than smooth like Taehyung’s. They sound pretty together, even if they’re so different. 
You can tell Jimin won’t last as long as Taehyung, though. He has to pull away from you very quickly, which is fine because you gasp for air, leaning forward slightly to catch your breath. 
“Don’t go so fucking hard,” Taehyung snaps once he sees your reaction. 
“Wha–” Jimin’s eyes grow wide. 
“I’m fine.” Your voice is hoarse, but you’re genuinely okay. You pat Taehyung on the thigh to reassure him because, well, it’s kind of cute that he cared enough to chastise his friend like that. 
Taehyung reaches down to wipe the tears from your cheeks with a stern look that feels strange coming from him. “Let’s take care of you, okay, baby?” 
It’s soft, the way he talks to you. It isn’t for the cameras. 
“I wanna go first. You got your chance before,” Jimin whines.
“Why don’t you ask me then?” 
Jimin crosses his arms against his chest. “May I fuck you first?”
“Sure,” you say with a shrug. 
Taehyung rolls his eyes, but despite the annoyed look on his face, he flops backward onto the bed. The motion causes his cock to slap against his hip, and he groans, slightly rolling on his side. 
“See, stop being such a drama queen,” Jimin chides.
You let out a rather unattractive snort that makes Jimin grin. 
“I like him.”
“Shut up.” 
For once, Taehyung doesn’t have a witty comeback or a stupid smirk to flash your way. Instead, his face twists into something unpleasant. The expression quickly dissolves, and you almost feel like you’ve imagined it. 
Taehyung leans back on his elbows and looks down at where you settle between his legs. Even when Jimin moves to kneel behind you, Taehyung’s eyes never leave yours except to check the flipped screen of his camcorder. 
“Wait, use this.” Taehyung sits up, and his cock is suddenly very close to your face. He reaches over to open his nightstand drawer, nearly ripping the entire thing out. “A lot of it.” 
Something passes between Taehyung and Jimin’s hands. You only glimpse it, but between what you see and the sound of a cap popping open, you know it’s a half-empty bottle of lube that Jimin is now squeezing all over your ass.
“What the hell,” you hiss as the cool liquid drips down your thighs. “Might as well dump the whole fucking thing on me, shit.” 
You refuse to admit that it feels nice having Jimin massage the lube into your skin. It heats up quickly, and his hand easily glides across your muscles. You feel yourself sink forward, lifting your lower half to give Jimin more access. In the midst of how good Jimin’s hand feels, something cold and hard presses against your lower back.  
“If you ruin my camera, Jimin–” 
“That’s hyung to you.” 
“No fucking way.” 
Their banter would be cute if you didn’t have your ass in the air and Taehyung’s dick mere inches from your face. And maybe if you didn’t fucking hate Taehyung and weren’t wary of Jimin at best. 
“Are we gonna do something, or…?” 
Taehyung fluffs a pillow behind his head to keep him propped up so he’ll have a better shot for filming. 
“Yeah, put it in your mouth.” 
You roll your eyes because there Taehyung goes, bossing you around again, but something deep inside whispers that you fucking like it. Not that you would say it out loud. You can’t help how your pussy gushes over him, though. It’s a betrayal, honestly. 
“Say, please.” 
Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you. “No.” 
You don’t have a chance to bitch him out because Jimin chooses that moment to slowly inch his cock inside of you. 
“Oh my god,” you moan with your lips brushing against the base of Taehyung’s cock. You rock back gently, helping Jimin ease into you.  
“So tight,” Jimin says once his hips are flat against your thighs and his cock is fully buried inside you.
“Right?” Taehyung murmurs. “You always feel so good.”  
It’s a bit difficult to bob your head along Taehyung’s cock when Jimin’s fucking into you like his life depends on it. The rhythm is all off, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind. He’s watching you with fucking stars in his eyes, hyperfocused on where your lips suckle the head of his cock. When you take more of him into your mouth, he switches the camcorder to his right hand and reaches out to you with his left. 
Taehyung runs his thumb along your upper lip, shallowly dipping into the corner of your mouth to feel how little space there is with your mouth full of his cock. 
“Don’t run away; you gotta take it,” Jimin grunts, squeezing your waist and pulling you back hard onto his cock. 
You want to snap at Jimin that it’s not your fault you keep getting lurched forward, but Taehyung’s letting out cute little whimpers from you rubbing your tongue against his slit, and you don’t want to do anything to make him stop. 
When you finally pull off Taehyung to breathe, a string of spit connects your lips to his shiny cock. 
“Can I fuck you in the ass, baby?” Taehyung practically hums the question, his voice already fucked out, deep and hoarse. “I think we need to diversify our portfolio.” 
At the question, Jimin slows down his thrusts until they’re shallow and don’t jostle you too severely.
You’re nodding before your brain can catch up to how your body reacts to Taehyung’s request. 
“Jimin?” 
“On it, boss.” 
You mean to groan in annoyance at how fucking corny they are – as if they’re actually trying to make this into a bad porno – but a moan comes out instead as Jimin slowly presses a generously lubed finger against your rim. 
“Have you done this before?” Jimin asks, working you open with one finger before moving on to a second.
“Y-yeah,” you whimper, the sensation of Jimin’s cock still moving inside you while his fingers are in your ass enough to make you lose your mind. Even if you hadn’t fingered yourself before, the amount of lube Jimin poured all over your ass removes nearly all the friction and tension. 
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Taehyung groans in an almost frustrated tone. He reaches down to pump his cock since you’re virtually useless with Jimin’s fingers and cock moving inside of you simultaneously. 
“Oh my god, Jimin.” You bury your face in the inside of Taehyung’s thigh, biting down just to ground yourself.
“Shit, that hurts,” Taehyung hisses, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. 
Once Jimin has four fingers inside of you, he leans forward to get closer to ask you if you’re ready.
“Do you want us at the same time?”  
Something that almost sounds pained comes from Taehyung, a broken whimper you’ve never heard from him before. He squeezes his eyes shut and nods his head even though the question isn’t for him. 
“Please, fuck, Y/N, please say yes.” 
You can’t even appreciate hearing Taehyung beg because you’re desperate for this, too. 
“Yeah, yeah, let’s just, let’s go.” You get up, nearly slipping from all the lube that has dripped down onto your body and Taehyung’s. 
“I don’t understand how Taehyung ended up not doing any of the work,” Jimin grumbles as he helps you turn around. 
You’re hardly paying attention to the men’s bickering. They can do whatever weird bromance thing they’re doing, but you’re trying to get doubly dicked down. Cameras or not. 
You sit on Taehyung’s abdomen with your legs on either side of his thighs and face Jimin. Taehyung’s large hands squeeze your waist to lift you up while Jimin grabs Taehyung’s cock to guide the head to your rim. 
“I can’t believe I have to touch your dick,” Jimin adds to his list of grievances that you’re sure Taehyung will never hear the end of. 
Taehyung just laughs, causing your body to jiggle in his tight grip. 
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” 
Jimin grimaces. “I really don’t.” 
It’s surprising that the two have never done this before when it feels so natural for the three of you to fall into place like this. 
Eventually, Jimin lets go of Taehyung’s cock once the tip pushes inside you. Taehyung feels much bigger than you remember, and Jimin’s fingers certainly don’t compare. Luckily, Taehyung is gentle as he pushes past the ring of muscles. Thank god for the ridiculous amount of lube. It allows you to sink down on Taehyung’s cock with only mild discomfort at first. 
“Relax, baby,” Taehyung murmurs. His hands slide up to squeeze your tits, rubbing and pinching your nipples as you eventually slide fully onto his cock. 
“O-o-okay,” you stutter as Jimin kneels between you and Taehyung’s legs. 
Jimin’s slow as he eases his cock into your pussy, mindful of the pressure you will feel with both cocks inside you. He pauses when he’s halfway in to squeeze even more lube onto his cock, making sure there’s enough to drip down to Taehyung’s, too. 
“What are we filming, a fucking lube ad? What is this?” 
“Shh, baby, you’re gonna ruin the audio,” Taehyung scolds from behind you. 
Biting your lip, you watch Jimin’s face as he concentrates on sliding into you. He’s pretty, sweet even, but… he’s not Taehyung. 
“Wait.” 
Jimin’s bright eyes flit up to meet yours. Concern twists his features, making his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you okay?” 
“What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Did we not prep you enough?” Taehyung tries to sit up, but Jimin slaps his thigh.
“Stop moving!” 
“I just wanna know what’s going on!” 
Taehyung rubs comforting circles into your sides, sliding his thumbs down to trace your hip bones before running his palms back across your ribs. 
You shake your head and try not to think about what you’re going to say.
“I… I want to,” your face heats up, and you internally scold yourself for feeling the way you do. “I want Tae.” 
Your words are rushed, but Jimin seems to understand – perhaps even more than what you’ve let on because he gives you a small smile and eases out of you without any questions. 
“What?” Taehyung peers from around your body.  
“No assfucking for you, buddy. Better luck next time.” 
“Jimin!” It’s your turn to haul a slap, this one hard against Jimin’s arm. “I’m a person.”
At least Jimin has enough sense to appear bashful. Grabbing your arms, he helps you lift off of Taehyung. He guides you so you’ve got your knees on either side of Taehyung’s hips. 
When you straddle Taehyung, you press your palms to his chest and dig your fingers into his firm pecs. He’s gorgeous like this, skin smooth and tan. A few moles scatter his torso, like little flecks of chocolate that you suddenly realize you’ve missed out on having the chance to lick up. His cheeks are dusted a light pink, and his sweaty bangs are brushed away from his forehead. 
He’s gorgeous all the time, but especially like this. 
“See something you like?” 
You dig your nails into his skin, and Taehyung winces, but he maintains that stupid fucking sparkle of mischief in his eyes. 
“Shut up. Maybe.” 
Taehyung’s grin widens. It’s bright and lopsided, makes him look like an idiot, honestly, and your stomach swoops because, fuck, you’re so fucked. 
“Are you two lovebirds ready or what? My dick is starting to hurt.” 
Taehyung apparently thinks slapping your ass is the best way to respond to Jimin’s question. 
Reaching between your bodies, you guide Taehyung’s cock inside your pussy. The unholy amount of lube makes it easy for him to slip in, which is good because you need to focus on relaxing your body once you feel Jimin’s cock press against your rim. 
You’ve never had two dicks at once – god, it sounds insane when you think about it, even though you know plenty of people who have explored this side of their sexual fantasies. It just isn’t something you’d do, mainly because you’ve always been insecure and a little shy. The hardass exterior is a great wall you’ve built to hide from getting your heart broken, but of course, Taehyung has managed to fuck with all your plans. 
It’s a strange sensation once Jimin fully bottoms out. The three of you freeze, allowing your body to adjust. 
After a while, Taehyung grabs your ass, holding you open as he and Jimin slowly begin to rock into you. As it was when you were sucking Taehyung off, it’s a bit difficult to find the right rhythm at first. Taehyung and Jimin bicker back and forth about who should thrust first and who should pull back. Taehyung jostles you in his lap a few times, squeezing your thighs to adjust your legs against his hips when he isn’t kneading your ass. 
Jimin eventually pushes down on your back, pressing you against Taehyung to open your hips more. The action pushes your chest into Taehyung’s face, much to his amusement, because he immediately sucks one of your perky nipples into his mouth. 
“Oh god,” you moan, reaching out to squeeze Taehyung’s broad shoulders when he flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue. His mouth is wet and warm, and your nipples have always been extra sensitive when you’re aroused. 
“Fuck, Tae, just, go now,” Jimin instructs through gritted teeth. 
Taehyung begins thrusting into you at a different tempo, knocking your heart into your throat because you can feel both of their cocks alternating thrusts inside of you now, both rubbing against each other between your walls. 
It’s embarrassing when the first wave of tears starts streaming down your face. You start babbling, hardly aware of what you’re saying because the pleasure is so intense it feels as though your brain completely short circuits. 
“Tae, Tae, oh my god, Taehyung,” you breathily chant into Taehyung’s ear. You can’t lean far forward because you have to keep your back arched for both Jimin and Taehyung to comfortably thrust into you. That frustrates you because you suddenly feel the need to be closer to Taehyung. It’s like everything inside of you will explode if you don’t. 
“Tae, I n-need y-y-you,” you sob. 
“Shhh, baby, we got you, okay? I got you.” Taehyung reaches up to lightly wrap his hand around your throat. It isn’t meant to choke you, just to comfort you with his presence since he can’t hold you against his chest. 
“Dropping?” Jimin asks as he pounds into you from behind. 
“Just sensitive, I think,” Taehyung responds for you, and it makes you warm to know that he knows you well enough to answer correctly.
His hand slides from your throat to hold your jaw. The position allows him to press his middle finger into your mouth. You immediately suck on it, finding comfort in it even as you continue to cry from the pleasure. 
“I’m gonna cum. Tae. I’m gonna cum.” 
Taehyung’s hand quickly drops to squeeze between your bodies. He rubs your clit, adding the extra sensation you need to finally push you over the edge. You cry out Taehyung’s name as you cum on both his and Jimin’s cocks, fingers digging into Taehyung’s pecs so hard that you worry you’ll draw blood. 
Jimin immediately cums, too, the feeling of your ass clenching around his cock proving too much for him. 
“Wait, wait,” he pleads until Taehyung stops moving. “Let me pull out.” 
You whimper when you feel Jimin ease out of you, your ass clenching and unclenching as your body adjusts. Now that only Taehyung is inside you, you collapse against his chest. Your lips find his neck and suck, making him shiver underneath you. 
“Can I move?” Taehyung asks, and you hum, too afraid to speak. 
Taehyung fucks into you harder than he had before. There’s something desperate about it, the way he chases his pleasure and can thrust at the speed he wants without needing to match with Jimin. You don’t even know what Jimin’s doing, probably cleaning himself up or filming you. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is how Taehyung moans your name as he thrusts into you. It’s sloppy and wet, something Taehyung appreciates. 
“You sound so good,” he moans into your ear. “Will you cum for me again?” 
You frantically nod your head, already almost there. 
“Just let go for me, okay? You can trust me.” 
It feels like more than just sex when he whispers it in your ear, another quiet promise meant for you and not the camera. 
You cum for a second time, this one accompanied by a silent scream that’s pressed into the crook of Taehyung’s sweaty neck. 
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Taehyung groans, squeezing you against his chest as he finally finds his release, too. 
You feel warm and gooey, none of your limbs cooperating when Taehyung tries to move you off him. Jimin has to help, and the two lay you on your back and get to work cleaning you up. It should be embarrassing, but you kind of like having two men doting on you. It’s nice, even if you’re still a little sticky from cum and lube, even after they’ve done their best to wipe your body down. 
Why haven’t you ever done this before? This is lovely. Men should be taking care of you. 
You smile at them, brain fuzzy and warm, when Jimin helps Taehyung tuck you into bed. 
“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks. He presses his thumb to your bottom lip, caressing it lightly. 
“I’m barely holding on.” 
Jimin snorts and immediately turns his head away when Taehyung shoots him a death glare. 
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” The nervousness in Taehyung’s voice is cute. 
“You’re cute.” 
Rather than say something smug, Taehyung covers his face with his hands. 
“We broke Y/N.” 
“What?” Jimin whips his head back around. “What, because you’re cute?” 
“Yes.” 
You use the rest of your strength to slap Taehyung in the thigh. “Oh, shut the fuck up before I kick your ass. Take the fucking compliment.” 
Taehyung peeks at you from between his fingers. “Fuck, you scared me for a second there.” 
With a roll of his eyes, Jimin stands up and stretches his arms out. “You’re both fucking drama queens.” 
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3K notes · View notes
forlix · 5 months
Text
𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.
— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.
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words・11.1k
pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)
genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative, alternating perspectives
warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia. again, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED.
warnings (cont'd.)・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack. alcohol is consumed. lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication. latter half is just kind of sad in general tbh but what do u expect from a fic based off alex turner lyrics
playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys
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a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u
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Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.
You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.
As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.
This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.
But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.
You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.
Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.
“Nervous?” 
Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.
“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”
You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.
You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.
“Just remember who you are.”
Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.
Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.
Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.
“I want you to meet my parents.”
Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.
The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.
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One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.
“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”
“For my newborn daughter.”
“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”
“My genes, to begin with.”
“That’s unfair. She’s using—”
An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.
“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.
Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.
Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.
Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”
The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.
“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.
“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”
“Is she here already?”
“No, she’ll be here at nine.”
There’s a small pause. 
“Hyung.”
“Hm?”
“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”
“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”
At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.
“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”
“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.
“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”
They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.
She reminds me of him.
“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”
Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.
The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.
At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.
“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”
“Absolutely the hell not.”
Then, it is 9:00.
When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.
“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”
You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 
With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.
Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.
“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”
“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 
“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”
Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.
The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.
Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.
He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 
“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”
Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.
But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.
“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
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Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.
Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.
Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.
Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.
Too bad you never let him daydream for long.
“Close.”
“Huh?”
“Your eyes. Close them.”
His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.
A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.
“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.
“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.
And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.
“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”
“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.
“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”
He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.
Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.
He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.
Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.
You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”
At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”
He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.
“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”
“No notes.” 
It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.
“I’ll see you after the show, then.”
You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 
It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.
“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”
You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.
“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.
“You have any jewelry for me?”
You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.
You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.
You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.
“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”
He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.
Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.
You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.
In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.
When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.
And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.
“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.
“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”
Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.
“About you? Damn straight.”
At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.
And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.
This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.
 “Hwang—” You begin.
“Hyung!”
At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.
“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 
In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.
You’re flustered.
You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 
“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”
“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”
“Ah.”
Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.
“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”
“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.
“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.
Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.
You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.
Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.
“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.
“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.
One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.
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Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.
When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”
There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.
You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.
“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.
“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”
“Me neither, now that you mention it.”
Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.
But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.
Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.
You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.
“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”
Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.
“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.
“You’ll see.”
With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.
The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.
Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 
“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”
And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.
“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”
Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.
“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”
She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.
You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.
“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.
“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”
Right there.
She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.
“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”
A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.
“You’re brilliant, you know that?”
“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”
She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”
Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.
As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.
Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.
Artistry.
“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”
And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?
Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.
The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.
“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”
There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.
You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.
You’re annoyed before he says a word.
“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”
“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”
But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.
“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”
The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 
In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.
You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”
“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”
“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”
As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.
“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”
Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.
But what if she’s not hallucinating?
No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.
“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”
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Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.
On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.
Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.
You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.
You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.
You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.
When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.
At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.
You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.
For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.
If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.
The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.
You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 
As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.
By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.
You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.
You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.
Hyunjin does not.
“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 
You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”
“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”
The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.
“Now you.”
Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.
When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.
“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”
There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—
“That’s a joke, right?”
Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.
“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”
At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.
“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”
He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.
“—and not just because you’re hot.”
You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.
Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.
“Thank you,” you said.
The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.
“Idiot,” he sighed softly.
Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 
When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.
If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.
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[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav
Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.
After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.
But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.
You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.
So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.
Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.
Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.
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One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.
When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.
You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.
A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.
“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”
When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.
Then, you start walking towards him.
“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”
He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.
A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.
Something’s not right.
���We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”
“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.
“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”
With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.
Go, you mouth, and he obliges.
A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.
Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.
You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.
Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.
“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.
He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.
As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.
Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.
He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.
You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.
“Hyunjin?”
His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”
“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”
He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.
“Hello? Did you—”
“Is everything okay?”
A short pause follows his interruption.
“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”
The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”
The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.
“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.
“You really don’t know?”
“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”
“No, that’s not—”
“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”
There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.
He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.
“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 
“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.
“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”
With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.
For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 
When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.
“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”
Your mind careens; your heart reels. 
“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”
You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.
But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.
“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”
God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?
“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”
And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—
“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”
—and crumble.
You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.
When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.
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Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.
Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 
One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.
Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.
“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.
“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.
Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 
Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.
He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.
He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.
He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 
“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”
Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?
He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.
“Son of a bitch—”
“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 
At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.
He’ll end up doing both.
Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.
Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.
As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.
After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.
He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.
But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.
“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.
There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”
He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.
This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.
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Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.
For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.
“Where do you find your inspiration?” 
As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.
“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?
“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”
Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.
“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”
A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 
“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”
The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.
“And who would that be?”
He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.
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peachypinkygloss · 7 months
Text
fanatic love — pjm
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When Jimin knew about your crush on him, you didn't expect him to invite you to his apartment and to get rid of your clothes once there, but you surely don't mind at all.
ꨄ︎ pairing: popular!jimin x inexperienced/fem!reader
ꨄ︎ genre: college au, friends to lovers, smut
ꨄ︎ word count: 4k
ꨄ︎ warnings: she's DOWN BAD, but jimin likes how in love she is with him, dom jimin/sub reader, praising & degradation, a bit of dumbification, unprotected sex, masturbation (f & m), brief anal play, lots of cum (as always), overstimulation, multiple orgasms.
a.n.: you ask and you shall receive 🫶🏻 call me!jk's next on the list :)
When Jimin discovered you had a big fat crush on him, it's not what you thought would happen.
You're not good at keeping secrets, even your own, so your friends knew all about your silly crush on Park Jimin — the godly handsome popular boy from your college.
You've never really talked to him, but it doesn't take you a lot to fall in love. To be frank, the only thing you share with him is a friend group and even then you've never had the chance to exchange more than three words with him.
Well, all of this has changed now. Never in a million years you'd have thought you'd step foot into his apartment, not even his bedroom, and surely not to have that type of conversation with him — if you can call it a conversation anyway.
But here you are, backing away as he steps forward, looking intensely into your eyes. He has such a serious expression on his face and you don't understand why he does, the only thing you know is that it's making your panties wet. Really wet.
"You'd do everything I ask, right?" His voice is soft, but also stern, making you swallow as stress rises up in your body; heart beating faster, hands slightly trembling, sweat forming on your forehead.
His simple presence makes you anxious, wishing you'll do nothing stupid that could make him lose interest in you. Don't disappoint him.
"Yes," you murmur, your stare fixated on him and your back eventually hitting the wall behind you. You don't want to run away from him — never would you — but you're not used to all of this.
Anything he asks, you'll do. Whatever it is; a crush, love, obsession, it doesn't matter because all you want to do is please him, to be the one who'll make his day better, to be the one he'll think about just before going to sleep.
He already does those things for you, so why not do them for him, too.
"Good girl," he praises and your face immediately heats up. Hearing that from him makes you happy and you want to continue being good for him.
Up close to him like that you can see how beautiful he truly is, reminding you just how much you love him, how hard your heart beats for him.
His dark brown eyes are disconcertingly soft and his lips are round, big — looking so pillowy, so inviting. You don't feel indifferent under his gaze, that's what you like the most about it; how unique you are when he looks at you because you have to be if you catch Park Jimin's attention.
It's so hard to be that close to him and not having the permission to touch him. You'd love to feel the smoothness of his skin or have your fingers run through his thick, shiny blond hair. You like the contrast between his dark eyebrows and the bleached colour of his hair, it makes them stand out more.
"Come here, sweet thing," he tells you in a raspy voice, his tone low and making you shiver in desire. You take one step and your breaths are already mingling together, your head tilted up to look at him. "Let's get those clothes off, hm? Isn't that a good idea?"
You eagerly nod your head at him, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as his hands come to grip your white blouse. He expertly pops out the buttons one by one, your eyes following his movements closely, his touch making you feel hotter and hotter.
His fingers are adorned in many chunky silver rings, his nails are cut short and a small tattoo is hiding on the side of his index finger of his left hand. Veins are apparent on his hands going all down to his forearms, making them look so sinful and strong — the epitome of lust itself.
He opens the button that shows your breasts supported by your bra, the contact of his skin against yours making your heart skip a beat. "Your hands are so cold," you whisper to him, shyly glancing up at his face.
He doesn't look back at you, his attention being fully on unbuttoning the piece of clothing, but he answers two simple words; "I know."
Your eyes go back down to his fingers, seeing that he only has one button left and he doesn't hesitate to pop it out. He slides the material off your shoulders, throwing it away on the floor of his bedroom.
You're left in your skirt, and even though you feel very vulnerable right now with your chest out, you're impatient for him to discover the lower half of your body, too. So far, you aren't disappointing him, which feels good.
He unzips your skirt and tugs it down, falling down at your feet. You shrug it away, Jimin admiring your half nude body with his beautiful almond-eyes.
"Look at how pretty you are," he compliments. "And all for me."
You sheepishly smile when hearing these words, turned on he's addressing you as his, as if everything you do and think is about him. And he'd be right about that.
His hands hovers just over your hips, his fingertips tracing the shape of your curves, going up and down so slowly, making goosebumps appear on your skin.
Your chest heaves rapidly and the temperature of the room starts to get higher, leaving you breathless and flustered. This moment is very intimate and him being able to see what kind of underwear you wear is so, so personal.
Underclothes are like a secret you only reveal to the people you trust the most and this status doesn't go to anyone, it applies to a very selective handful of people. And in some cases, to only one person.
Jimin being this person is just unbelievable, and there's nobody else you'd let see you like that. Nobody, only him.
His hands sneak behind you to reach the clip of your bra and he swiftly unhooks it. Your eyes are on him, scared to look away for a second, as the garment falls on the ground. Your nipples harden from the cold air hitting them, Jimin's stare on them.
He licks his lips and gently cups your breasts, cutting your breath short. "How cute are they, mh?" He asks in a honeyed voice, melting your heart, taking your sanity away bit by bit.
He pinches your buds between his fingers, making them even harder, slowly circling them. You softly whine, feeling your stomach twist from the sensations he procures to you by playing with your nipples. They point at him, perky and erected, and he smirks, enjoying how they seem to really like him.
His hands descend along your stomach, your muscles twitching under his cold fingertips, teasing the band of your panties. It's when his eyes shift up to your face, maybe asking for permission or just to check up on you, that your heart jumps in your chest.
He passes his digit over the bow sewn on your underwear then teasingly going under the material, threatening to remove it. "Do you mind?" His question comes out low and breathy, his hands starting to get impatient.
"No..." You're quick to respond, shaking your head from side to side. It's all he needs before he tugs on your panties, sliding them down your legs.
You're now completely bared in front of him, his lustful eyes roaming over your body, making you feel really small under his gaze. His hand comes really close to your heat, but he only brushes his fingers against your pussy, tricking you into thinking he's going to touch you down there.
"Sweet girl, go sit on the bed for me, m'kay?" he softly demands, laying his palm on your naked hip. "Can you do that?"
You nod your head and he steps aside to let you walk to his bed placed in the corner of his room. He watches you crawl to one end of the mattress, turning around to sit on your butt.
It's not long until he joins you, a little grin gracing his plump pink lips. As he walks up to you, he gets rid of his t-shirt, revealing to you his 'nevermind' tattoo drawn on his rib cage that you'd only ever heard rumours about. Now you know it really exists and you find it absolutely stunning on him, making him look much sexier.
He removes his jeans too, but you're taken aback when he drags his boxers with them as well. His cock springs free and you can't ignore the heat you feel between your legs — it's burning.
You can't help but stare at it with rounded eyes. He's fully erected and just the fact that you're the cause of it, makes you so aroused. He's average, but girthy and curved and really ... agitated.
It twitches before you and you look at it with so much admiration — his cock is so pretty, you didn't think you'd have been so turned on by just seeing one.
But it's Jimin after all. Everything about him is perfect, pretty and hot.
He takes the other end of the bed, leaning his back against the wall. You start moving to come to him, but he stops you. "No, you stay right there, sweetheart."
"Why?" You pout, offended. You want to touch him, that's literally the only thing you want, you think. How can you not when his erection looks so hard and painful, leaking so much pre-cum just inches away from you?
"'Cause I'm gonna watch you," he explains softly, wrapping his palm around his pulsating cock. "And you're gonna watch me, sweet girl."
Oh.
He passes his left hand through his hair, getting the blond strands away from his almond shaped eyes, a watch crowning his wrist. Jimin really loves jewelry and you love it on him.
He gets comfortable, parting his legs a bit wider. You swear you have the most sinful scenery happening in front of your eyes and god, it makes your clit throb so hard.
"Don't be shy, baby," he smiles, eyes glinting, playful or maybe mischievous... "Show me your little pussy," he says and you can't deny him.
So you open your legs a bit hesitant, but you still do it. You lean against the other wall, keeping your knees bent and positioning two fingers beside your drenched cunt.
Jimin grins at the sight, lips parted as his eyes are strained down on your pussy, so much arousal leaking from it. "You're literally soaking wet. Didn't know you loved me that much," he teases and your face heats up again from embarrassment. He was never supposed to find out, but you surely won't complain right now.
"I've just... wanted this for so long," you confess in a quiet voice, slowly rubbing your pussy lips to get in the mood, carefully avoiding your clit.
He squeezes his cock, his eyes closely following your fingers, biting down on his plump bottom lip. "You should've told me, this would've happened much sooner..." He whispers back, making you fantasize about everything that could have happened if only you had the courage.
You run your hand over your tummy going up to your chest, brushing over your hard nipples. You love the small friction it creates, still a bit too shy to do more than roll the sensitive buds under your palm.
Jimin loves it, too. He grips his cock, tugging at it slightly, mimicking the same pace as you; slow and steady.
You whimper when you place a digit on your throbbing clit, beginning to draw tight circles on it. He looks at your pussy intently, his breath quickening each time your legs tremble from the pleasure or when you open your legs wider, desperate to feel more than just your small fingers.
When he stares at you, it's like he wants to get something from you — probably sexual, naively hoping it's more — and his gaze makes you shudder, ready to kneel before him, to give him everything he needs.
Oh, you definitely feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now. He chose you, not some other girl, you. You have to be special.
He fucks his fist as you toy with your bud of nerves, head rolling back and hitting the wall behind, hooded eyes focused on his hand running up and down his hard cock. You moan sweetly and he grunts at the melodic sounds, tightening his grip around his length.
He looks so good and it literally turns you crazy how far he is from you, and yet, you're both masturbating on the same bed. You grope one of your tit, palming it and kneading it in your hand, pussy clenching at the sight of Jimin stroking his wet cock.
"Please, Jimin," you whine desperately, clearly showing how needy and eager you are for him. "Let me touch you, or whatever you want, but please-"
He frowns, shaking his head, cutting you off. "No, you heard me, sweet thing," he begins, voice breathy. "Be a good girl and keep playing with your little pussy, mh?" He asks and his answer doesn't please you, but you have to behave.
You sigh, but you nod your head in agreement nonetheless. It's such a shame, you know for a fact that his cock would slip right away in your hole at how wet it is for him. He would stretch you out so well, you just want to feel him against your walls. Is it too much to ask?
So you do what you're told to, rubbing your clit in quick circles and pulling on your nipples, stimulating them with your palm. You arch your back and moan obscenely, bringing yourself close to the edge.
"Yeah, sweetheart. That's it, fuck," he groans, throwing his head back. His lips are parted, letting out heavy breaths and deep moans as he watches you pleasuring yourself. "Good girl, such a good girl for me," he praises, the words coming out a bit mindlessly, drunk on the way you rub your clit avidly and how your wetness drips down to your ass, skin glistening under the light of his bedroom.
He tugs on his cock, the skin of his penis moving up and down as he fucks his hand. You feel it building up at the pit of your stomach too quickly, and you suddenly stop, not wanting to cum too soon.
As you stop, you grope your boobs again instead, waiting a little before starting back up with your swollen clit. Jimin hisses, halting his movement, too, covering the slit of his tip with his thumb.
"Are you edging yourself, baby?" He chuckles, rubbing his digit over his slit, spreading his pre-cum around his dark pink head.
"Mh-hm," you nod your head, passing your fingers over your pussy lips. "Wanna cum with you," you say in a pouty voice, letting out a quiet whimper as you pinch on your sensitive nipples.
"Aw, what a cute girl," he coos, a smirk forming on his lips. "You will, now just keep going, okay?" He instructs and you execute yourself, resuming the tight circles you were drawing on your clit.
"Okay," you breathe out.
Yes, you want to orgasm at the same time as him, but you also don't want this to end. It's like one of your wet dreams came to life and you want it to last as long as possible, enjoy every second of it.
You could edge yourself for hours, you don't care. You could stop every time you feel it coming, moving your fingers away from your puffy clit, feeling it pulsating so hard like you actually have a heartbeat there.
But every dream must come to an end. You have to eventually wake up from it, even though you wish you would never.
Jimin gets his hair away from his face again, little strands sticking to his forehead. His chest and shoulders are coated in a thin layer of sweat, like you know your back is as well. Damp and hot, that's how your skin feels like.
You dip two fingers in your pussy slightly just to bring some of your arousal up to your clit, making the circles smoother and kind of sticky.
He wets his dried lips with his pink tongue, grunting as he accelerates the pace of his palm around his engorged cock. He drags the loose skin of his dick up and down with every thrust, the muscles of his abs flexing as he controls himself, following attentively your fingers moving in circles over your poor, swollen clit.
"Ah, Jimin," you moan out, knitting your eyebrows together while you work hard on your bud, bringing yourself back over the edge. You're so desperate at this point, you just want to see him ejaculate and make a mess on himself, knowing it's all because of you.
"Come on, sweetheart. You've been so good," he tells you with his low, raspy voice, always honeyed and pleasant to the ear. "Cum with me," he insists and you want it so bad.
"Yes, please, please," you beg, as if he hadn't already given you the permission to, but it comes out instinctively. "Oh, my god-!" You cry out, rubbing fast circles on your clit until your body jerks forward, hips bucking against your hand.
Jimin grits his teeth, sucking air through them as he gives quick, short strokes to his thick cock. Seeing you cumming in front of his eyes riles him up, toes curling as he breathes heavily, plushy lips parted.
"Yes, yes," you sigh, toying with your clit to ride out your high, eyes fixated on Jimin's hand going up and down his length really fast.
"Aah, fuck," he curses under his breath, the knot at the pit of his stomach finally ripping off. His cock jerks in his hand, spurting out long, thick ropes of white cum, landing on his tummy.
His hand slows down, doing long and steady strokes to get everything out. He squeezes his grip and little white beads spill out from his sticky tip, dribbling down over Jimin's hand.
You swallow as you watch the whole scene, his cum slowly dripping down over his abs, falling onto his dark pubic hair. You tell yourself that this isn't enough, that you want — need more. More sex, more of Jimin.
You then totally act on your impulses, getting up on your knees and straddling Jimin's lap. He keeps his mouth agape, eyebrows frowned as he looks at you gripping his cock and aligning it with your entrance.
His hands hover over your hips, clenching into fists when you sink down on him. "Shit," he chokes on his word, watching his cock covered in his cum disappearing into your wet pussy. "Fuck, sweet thing, don't- oh, god."
The overstimulation is painful, but you both love it.
He lifts up his head and your eyes connect, your arms wrapped around his strong shoulders. His pupils are dilated and he looks so good like this; sweaty, breathless and out of his mind.
You immediately start jumping on his cock, honestly not really knowing what you're doing, but it feels incredible, so you continue. Jimin lets you use him, his head rolling back, holding onto your hips.
His fingers have heated up, now warm, only the silver of his rings being cold against your burning skin. You bounce on his dick with so much energy you even surprise yourself, but Jimin's whiny moans encourage you to keep going, wanting to feel his hot cum deep into you badly.
"Jumping on my cock like a little slut..." He groans, guiding your hips on his lap, doing fast grind motions. "You're no sweet girl," he says, one hand running down to the small of your back, sneaking down to your ass. "You're a fucking whore," Jimin rasps out, dipping the tip of his middle finger in your tight hole.
You gasp, but keep riding him like your life depends on it. You just want to cum around him, though, and you'll do it because damn it, you deserve it. Jimin might be right; you must be a slut, but god, does it feel good to be one. Especially when Jimin's your client — hypothetically.
"Only... only for you," you manage to respond, mouth open to let out your lewd moans. He keeps teasing your ass, slightly stretching it out with his thumb now. You're ashamed to admit it, but feeling him filling up your other hole turns you totally hysteric.
"Hm? What did you say, baby?" Jimin wonders, looking at you with hooded eyes, lust dancing in them.
"I'm a slut," you reply in a whiny voice. "But only for you," you state and it makes Jimin chuckles, a lopsided smile plastered on his face. You're so down bad for him, he likes it — feeds off of it.
"That's right," he approves, collecting some of your arousal on his digit. "Only for me, sweetheart. Just for me," he repeats while circling your rim with the pad of his finger covered in your wetness.
You moan in response, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. He then smacks your ass, groping the bouncing flesh after, his cool rings brushing against your skin.
You grind on him, your hips going so fast Jimin has difficulty following up, your tits squished against his sweaty chest. His cock feels so good against your walls, your pussy clenching around him several times as you can't keep in your moans.
"I love it," you admit, not knowing how to keep your tongue in your mouth as your brain is all mushy right now. "Love your big cock, Jimin," you say drunkly, your mouth beside his ear.
"Yeah? Like my cock in your tight little pussy?" He asks, pulling you away from his neck, making you face him by having a grip on your hair.
"Yes, love it so much," you cry, sinking your nails into the skin of his back, leaving small crescent forms.
"Then I'mma fucking give it to you, baby."
You moan out loudly when Jimin thrusts up into you, his feet sinked into the mattress as he fucks you hard and deep. Your ass bounces as he snaps his hips against yours, balls slapping your wet pussy. You cry on top of him, his cock sliding up so easily as you're dripping wet, on the verge of your orgasm.
His head hits your sweet spot so deliciously, making you see stars. "Oh, gosh, I'm gonna cum," you hurriedly warn him, boobs also jiggling at the intensity of Jimin's thrusts.
"Fuck, me too, sweetheart," he breathes out shakily, gripping your hips tightly, fingers digging into your damp skin.
You lay your hands on his shoulders, arching your back as his thick cock keeps brushing over your sensitive spot inside of you. You soon cum around him, pussy clenching around him repeatedly and thighs shaking beside his body.
Your walls closing tightly around him is his last stroke and his hips steady. His cock twitches and he releases himself deep into your cunt, shooting long strings of cum against your walls.
You lazily grind on him, driving off both of your highs, limbs trembling.
You look down where your bodies connect and you see his cum has fallen down all over yourselves at how much there was. Your inner thighs are covered as well as his pelvis and balls.
You slowly lift up your hips and his cock slips out of you, slapping down on his stomach. You're both trying to catch your breaths, looking into each other's eyes, perhaps thinking about the right thing to say.
You drop yourself beside him on the bed and he passes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm and soft embrace. He kisses the top of your head and you smile, placing your palm down on his chest.
"Was really good, but we need to clean ourselves." Jimin says, getting out of bed. You get a glimpse of the big tattoo on his back; the cycle of the moon and the two other drawings above his elbows before he turns around. "Coming with me?" He proposes.
You nod your head, biting down on your lip to refrain a smile. "Yeah."
.
.
.
a.n.: hope it was good?!!?!? 🥺 idk came straight from my fantasy so... but anyway just wanna say i start uni in like a week so if call me doesn't come as soon, it's normal (if it comes soon y'all need to scold me because my stupid lazy brain has to study). i hate school, but hey, maybe... enemies to lovers?! that'd be cool
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bergandysam · 8 months
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Kim Seokjin Fic Recs
‼️18+ minors DNI, if you choose to anyways, PLEASE be careful. try to heed our warnings, we have them for a reason‼️
More Recs Here
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he’s insanely good looking your honour
[not in any particular order] [if any users would like me to remove their post from this list please let me know and i will do so immediately!]
thank you daddy @ktheist 19k
sugar daddy!seokjin, WHEEWWW, small angst, hella smut tho LOLL, 9 YEAR AGE GAP!, they’re both horny fucks,
fast lane @yminie 20.6k
racer!seokjin, enemies2lovers, angst, smut !!!!!short depictions of car accidents!!!!!, jin is a PLAYA, reader really hates his guts LOLL
cherry topper @kth1 17.6k
friends2lovers, longtime pining, college!au, reader works at his family’s candy shop :)) fluff, angst, SMUT, reader is dense as hell LOLL
every year @another-army-spot 15.6k
childhood bff2L, chef!seokjin, a yearly new year’s eve party!!, hard fluff, smutty angst, they both grew up hella rich.
final sleigh @floralseokjin 23.3k
coworkers, e2l, reader very much hates seokjin LOLLL, forced proximity fanfic 🤭🤭 smut, fluff(?), angst in Y/N is petty LMAO, it’s christmas!
stuck with you @taleasnewastime 29.6k
strangers2lovers, reader is grumpy :(, they’re stuck in a city they don’t want to be in, Jin is a raining ball of sunshine, angst, smut, fluff, angst. happy ending :)
MENTIONS OF DEATH!
small tuna fish @floralseokjin 17.1k
college!au, jin is a GOOD nice guy, he’s so jinny, FLUFF x10000, smut too LOL, jin is a cutie, he’s inexperienced, there’s a charity car wash too 🤪
warm this winter @jamaisjoons 51.6k
s2l, this was so cute, jk is such a dumbass, but it’s okay seokjin is here to save the day. fluff, angst, SMUT. it just smacks u in the fuckin face.
lost and found @taleasnewastime 21.2k
s2l, seokjin owns a silly lil shop cuz he’s a silly lil guy, reader was cheated on, fluff, angst, they’re so cute. jimin is there too! oneshot.
you guys don’t understand how fucking much i love this story. i’ve re-read it more times than i can count. i think about this Jin once a week
made up love song @floralseokjin series
dilf!seokjin, teacher!reader, arin is saur cute, angsty :(, but fluffy!!! n very smutty, lots of fluff with arin, seokjins ex >:(
turn back time @raplinesmoon 13.3k
seokjin accidentally fast forwards time, smut, angsty fluff, reader is a doctor, JIN POPS A SEMI 💀💀💀💀
sit. stay. @daechwitatamic 14k
dog owners!!!, they live in the same building, jin just wants to help MC, miscommunication :(, fluff, angst, smut, more fluff. literally. cuz dogs. i love this jinnie sooo much
the ikea test @yoon-bug 9.1k
they’re dating, hoseok was right 💀, reader gets upset with seokjin, jin saves the day!!, and then screws the HELL out of MC, so.. smut, fluff too :)
last november @kithtaehyung 24.7k 😭😭
god. exes2l, angst and um oh more angst, smut, all ends well, they’re on a holiday trip with tha gang.
ryen NEVER misses. masterpiece after masterpiece.
the platonic collection @joheunsaram mini series
FWB2L, MC is kinda… she’s kinda dense LOL, seokjin is a cutie, smut, fluff
off limits @floralseokjin series
brothers best friend!seokjin, they’re hiding :(, FWB2L, angst angst angst, yoongi gets puNCHED, smut, readers brother is overprotective, lil fluff
don’t go baking my heart @candlewaxandp0lar0ids 14.7k
i don’t think u understand i love this seokjin. JK is a cutie, S2L, jinnie owns a bakery and is the master of puns, kinda angsty, fluff, they’re also IDIOTS. lil smut
cupids on holiday @persphonesorchid 17k
cupid!seokjin, fluff, angst :(, smut, E2L?? ily jin. but i HATE U. but ily.
all i don’t want for christmas is you @minisugakoobies 23.7k
coworkers AU!, E2L, crack, fluff, smut, jin has a big… ego.. y’all. Y/N pisses me the hell off, but they’re SO CUTE 😭
glazed and dazed @floralseokjin 30.3k
um. PORNSTAR SEOKJIN. thank you that’s all, jk, seokjin ☹️, obviously smut, but they’re fluffy n cute i promise.
the devil wears armani @floralseokjin 65k series
WHEW this one is a doozy, devil!jin, jimin is there too, very much smut smut smut, angsty, fluffy, seokjin has a soft spot.
like i said at the end of my last fic rec post, if any of you have recommendations for me, please send them through!! my inbox is OPEN and i am always looking for more things to read!!! 🫶🫶
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badbtssmut · 3 months
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Instead of playing poker, your stepfathers’ friends decide to take turns on their friend’s sexy stepdaughter tonight.
Idea from this anon and tbh this is just pure filth
Contains: sorry I’m lazy now might update later
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Every family had their dirty little secret, and yours was that you fucked your stepfather. Absolutely nobody knew, not even your best friend or your mother.
In your defense, it wasn't as if you'd gone out of your way to find yourself in this position. It just… happened. It all started when mom left for a weekend and the both of you had some drinks while watching some romcom and the rest was history.
It didn’t stop after that, Namjoon’s cock made you see stars and you couldn't resist the pleasure he gave you, so you kept going back for more. The both of you were addicted to each other, and he promised to never stop if you broke up with your boyfriend, so you did.
But, Namjoon wasn’t the only one introduced to your life.
Tonight, Namjoon had invited his friends to your home for a poker night and you'd had a feeling the game would go long into the night.
The men were seated around the table, a few bottles of beer scattered around the surface along with their cards and chips. Namjoon was at the head of the table, his chair slightly pulled back from the edge to make room for you as you straddled him.
“Who is winning?” You asked, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder as you ground your hips against his, his hardening length straining against his jeans.
He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him.
You felt the material of his leather jacket press against your chest, and you knew what you were wearing was driving him wild. It was a simple, white button down, but Namjoon had taken your bra off before you went out and the thin material was see-through and did nothing to hide your hard nipples.
You wore a skirt too, short and black and a bit frilly around the edges, something Namjoon had bought for you the week before, and a pair of white thigh highs.
"You are." Namjoon whispered in your ear, his fingers trailing under your skirt and teasing your soaked cunt. “Go get us some snacks.” He ordered, pushing you off his lap and patting your ass, and so you went to the kitchen.
You popped open some bags of chips and crackers and laid them on a big plate, pausing as you first unbuttoned your shirt and let it slip off your body, leaving you in nothing but the skirt and socks.
After you added the drinks and a bowl of candy, you brought the tray out, the men looking at you with hunger in their eyes as you walked out, your breasts jiggling with every step.
You sat the platter on the coffee table and went to sit on Namjoon’s lap again. He leaned in to kiss you and his hand trailed to your back, unzipping your skirt and letting it pool around your hips.
The game continued, and you saw the men all take out their cocks one by one and start stroking, clearly turned on by your presence.
“Go on, go give our guest a ride.” Namjoon whispered in your ear as he pushed you off his lap once more. And you were barely standing on your own for a second until someone yanked you closer and you fell on Jungkook’s lap, his cock pressing against your soaked folds.
He wasted no time in lining his length up with your pussy and thrusting into you, and you moaned as you sank down, his girth stretching you deliciously.
You rested your arms on the table, the wood cold under your palms as you began bouncing on his length, moaning every time his cock hit the sweet spot deep inside you. The poker game continued, along with some casual chatting, all men glancing your way here and there as they eagerly awaited their turns.
When you were done with Jungkook, a hand shot to your arm and pulled you off him, pushing you towards another lap.
Jimin held you in place with one hand as the other guided his cock into you, and the angle was deeper than with Kook, his cock hitting places you didn’t know were there.
And just like that, you rode all of the men until they all had their turns with you, but it didn’t end there.
It was only the start.
The poker table was left abandoned as you and the men moved to the livingroom, some sitting on the couches, others leaning on the wall or standing.
In front of them was you on the living room carpet, Hoseok pounding into you, his hand on your throat as he choked you and fucked you. You were on your back, hands clawing at the soft rug and mouth hanging open, whorish moans and cries leaving your lips. Seokjin tapped his cock against your mouth, making you look at him, and you took his cock between your lips, sucking him eagerly as Hoseok pounded you.
It was pure bliss, being stuffed at both ends, and soon enough Seokjin and Hoseok had switched places, Hoseok fucking your throat now as he tugged on your hair, making you look at the others who were jerking off, watching the show. Yoongi joined your side and wrapped your fingers around his cock, guiding them up and down his length, and your other free hand was wrapped around Taehyung’s cock.
It was chaotic, the men went crazy for you. Everytime there was an empty spot, they’d rush in to take it, and they nearly fought over who got to pound into that sweet pussy this time. One moment you were riding Yoongi, and the next you were giving Jungkook a blowjob. It was overwhelming but so fucking hot how they went crazy for you.
“Fuck, if you think her pussy is tight, you need to try that ass, holy shit it's heaven." Jimin moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he thrust into you, hands holding your legs wide apart, spreading you open for him.
The men didn’t needed to be told that again, all impatiently waiting for their turn. They couldn't wait to have your ass, the mere thought of having their cocks in your ass making their cocks throb.
You were on all fours, ass raised up in the air, face pressed into the carpet as the guys fucked you from behind one by one. They were rough, and the carpet burned your skin, but you didn’t care. Your body was sore and sensitive from the hours of constant fucking, your holes used and abused, but you wanted more.
They were like animals in heat, and you were their only outlet.
You had a break for a few minutes, and so did the guys, before Namjoon pulled you onto the couch, onto his lap.
“I don’t know how the fuck you do this, you can never have enough, huh? Always wanting more?” Namjoon spoke as he kissed you.
"Can't help it, love the way you all fuck me, I want more, always more." You admitted, your words breathy and weak.
You heard the men murmur something amongst themselves and the next thing you knew, the guys were surrounding the couch, their cocks in hand.
"Go on, put them in your mouth." Namjoon said as he spread your legs wide apart, exposing your dripping pussy to everyone, his fingers spreading your folds, showing everyone how soaked you were.
Your hands grabbed ahold of the two closest dicks, pumping them a few times before putting them in your mouth. Namjoon scooted back against the sofa and your body rested back against his.
"Grab the rest of the cocks, sweetie. Let them have your hands." Namjoon ordered and you reached for the other cocks, wrapping your fingers around them.
Your head was spinning from the sudden overload, the men surrounding you, the cocks in your hands and mouth and the feel of Namjoon's thick length buried deep in your ass.
You felt someone’s head push against your pussy, and soon enough, their cock was sliding in, the man beginning to fuck you as the others used your hands and mouth.
“What a good girl, taking in two cocks at the same time.” Namjoon was thrusting his hips upwards, his cock pounding into you as the others fucked your mouth and pussy, and you were a mess, a whiny, whimpering, moaning mess.
"Shit, her hands feel so good."
"Yeah, and her pussy, so tight."
"You like sucking my dick, princess?"
You couldn't reply, not when the guys were stuffing your mouth and pussy, but you could make sure they enjoyed themselves.
Taehyung panted as he slammed into your pussy, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. "Ah, she's milking my cock so well, shit, you are such a good whore, never met someone this good before.” Taehyung whispered.
"She loves being praised, don't you babygirl?" Namjoon said as his hips snapped upwards and you moaned around the cock in your mouth, the vibrations making Yoongi groan.
"Fuuuck, she's so wet. Shit, she's really into this."
"Of course she is, she's a slut."
Then, you felt another cock brush against your folds, and you looked down to see Hoseok lining himself up with your already stuffed pussy, ready to slide in. Taehyung moved up, making room for him.
“Are you sure you can take all this cock?” Namjoon teased, but then, Hoseok began thrusting and you couldn’t form any words, your mind and body overwhelmed by pleasure.
"Fuck, this feels so good, so tight." Hoseok moaned, the men's moans filling the room.
You couldn’t think, couldn't focus on anything except the cocks filling you up, stretching you, and the sounds the guys made, their praises and their curses, the way their cocks twitched in your hands and mouth and how they throbbed in your holes.
“Ah! Ah!” You could barely moan, the sound muffled by the cocks in your mouth, your eyes rolled back at the sensation— fuck, you were so stuffed. You glanced down to look at your pussy and the sight was filthy, the three cocks pumping in and out of your stretched holes, you didn’t even know your body could do this.
Taehyung increased his speed, his teeth gritted as he pounded into you, his thrusts becoming frantic, his cock twitching, and then he came, his cum filling your pussy, the white substance leaking out of your filled hole.
Taehyung left but his spot was soon taken by the others, and they all kept going, fucking you, filling you up.
They took turns, and it went on for what seemed like hours, the men coming one after another, until only Namjoon was left.
Namjoon laid you down on the couch before he lined his length up with your pussy and slid in, fucking you into the sofa, the piece of furniture shaking under you, the wooden feet scraping the floor.
You were a whimpering, moaning, fucked out mess, unable to even beg for more. Namjoon was pounding into you, his hips slamming into yours, his hands digging into the soft skin of your thighs as he pulled your legs wider apart.
“Look at you, covered in cum, all holes used and abused, and you’re still taking cock, aren't you? Such a good slutty girl." Namjoon's cock brushed against a spot that made you whimper and he smirked, focusing his thrusts on that spot, his thumb moving to rub against your clit.
It was all too much, the pleasure overwhelming. You couldn’t take it, your body spasming, toes curling as an intense orgasm washed over you.
And, a second later, you felt a hot load fill your pussy and Namjoon collapsed on top of you, his cock twitching inside you, still filling you up.
You were spent, completely exhausted, but you had loved every single second of it, and so did the men.
"We need to do this again, maybe a weekly thing." Yoongi suggested.
The other guys agreed and you nodded, too tired to say anything.
You definitely would do this again.
“Next time, I want her all for myself, I’m tired of sharing with you guys.” Hoseok scoffed.
"We'll see."
They laughed, and then they were all kissing you and you were happy.
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lingerina · 2 months
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝐎𝓥𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐈𝓥𝐄 - yu jimin
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␥ karina x fem!reader ␥ 916 words 🚨 choking, overstimulation, dacryphilia (?), praise ␥ you swore to never work for a rideshare app again but getting laid off leaves you no choice. you end up becoming someone’s getaway driver, not realizing you’re in for way more than you bargained for. ␥ A/N inspired by this ask (and reblogs) from ages ago. also could be read as (sort of?) optional bias since i realized i never used her name here. 🧍🏻‍♀️ and it took me this long to write for my bias? 🤪
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You never wanted to go back to Uber but after being laid off and having bills due soon, you had no choice.
You earned the most when you drove around the airport, downtown, and during late-night hours, which were windows to some of the craziest things you’ve previously experienced as a driver. You’ve gotten caught up in a drug deal and bank heist before, which was why you swore to never be an app driver again.
Every ride, you hoped that your passengers were normal law-abiding citizens who just needed a ride to the local market or something. Fortunately, they had been.
Until you made the mistake of driving off with a passenger who wasn’t the one that ordered a ride from you.
She had run up to your car—impressively in heels—and slammed the door shut as if she was being chased, shouting for you to drive off before you even get a chance to confirm you’re picking up the right person. Meeting her sharp eyes in your rear view mirror startled you into stepping on the gas because in the pit of your guts, you were uncertain if you were in harm’s way again and ignoring her might actually put your life on the line.
The ride had been silent, your actual passenger that you’d driven past being one of the only two thoughts crossing your mind after you had hovered a shaky hand over your phone, that’s mounted to the air vent, to cancel her request. You didn’t know where you were driving, and you couldn’t accept any other ride that were popping up on your app. There were more red areas on the map, indicating major activity and hefty tips that you could’ve gotten your hands on had you refused to let the mysterious raven-haired beauty in your car.
She stared out the window for what felt like hours. She didn’t utter a word and you were too afraid to ask questions. You aimlessly drove around, hoping she would finally say something and end this torture.
When she abruptly met eyes with you in the mirror again, you startled.
You tried to break the ice and asked for her destination, but what followed was more silence, a sudden request to park in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, and two-word commands for you to step out and join her in the backseat where she ended up breaking you.
You’re seated on her lap with your back pressed against her chest and her hand wrapped around your throat. Taunting words brush over your ear, inducing a chill that ripples down your spine as three of her fingers are inside you. Your body horribly betrays you as your car echoes with the filthy squelches of your dripping pussy and your cries as she violates you.
Nonetheless, you part your legs wider and buck against her hand, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from your morals dissipating and your desire to be broken burning. With your leggings torn at your crotch and bearing the stains of your pleasure, you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning mess for a gorgeous stranger who may or may not be dangerous.
She squeezes tighter, her well-manicured nails threatening to pierce the soft skin of your throat, a low praise of ‘good girl’ uttered at the shell of your ear threatening the sliver of sanity you have left. You catch your breath when she releases her grip, which moves down your clavicle to tear at the collar of your tee. She yanks at your bra, unveiling your breast for the palm of her hand, and kneads in tandem with the pace of her fingers.
Your head lolls back over her shoulder, hoarse moans polluting your once-silent vehicle as she fucks you harder. Tension grips at your limbs, your toes curling as her curled digits reach that spot. The spot where you need her most.
“Come on, baby,” she purrs with a sly smirk. “Give it to me.”
You oblige on cue. Your eyes roll back as you soil her hand in the midst of ecstasy, your wetness dirtying her dress, her lap, and the back of the seat. She didn’t spare you mercy before, and she’s definitely not sparing you now.
She toys with you until you think you’ve given her your all. As soon as you fall limp, she slips back inside you and you swiftly ascend to your brink once more, the sensitivity blurring your vision with white dots as you gush all over her. 
She refuses to let you recuperate. Just when you think it’s over, she makes her unwelcome return, her expert fingers repeatedly bringing you to ecstasy like a broken film. She gets off on your tears and pleas because they’re a stark contrast to you squirting all over her and dirtying your car in the process. When she’s had her fill, she shifts you off her lap like a discarded toy and finally steps out without a word, leaving you alone in the abandoned parking lot.
With the silence and post coital clarity setting in, you sit up straight and stare at the mess you made. You don’t need a mirror to know that you do not look presentable to customers at all.
Fortunately, it’s still early in the morning. You can rush home, clean yourself and your car up, and still have a whole day to earn money.
You just hope that you don’t have another potentially dangerous or salacious run-in again.
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theblackestswan · 5 months
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Silent Desires | #1
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Synopsis — There was a time when you pondered how you'd ever let it be known how much you desired Jungkook. But now? He’s back. And he’s not being silent with his desires anymore.
• Jungkook x F!Reader
• Brothers best friend, childhood friends to somewhat strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, and a bit of angst
• explicit language
• word count: 1.5k+
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
"God fucking damnit!"
You screamed as you tried to calm yourself down. Was it working? Absolutely not. But it felt good, right?
The phone rang a couple rings before the person you were not looking for, answered. "Hello sister!" Gross. The sound of anyones happiness, pissed you off right now.
"Jimin, is dad home? I really need him." You said exhaustingly. Please let your dad be home. You need him right now.
You sighed, "It's... just my car. It stopped and won't go into gear..."
"Hey, everything's okay. I'll come get you and check it out. I have someone who might know a thing or two about cars... we'll be there soon."
We?
"Jimin who is-?" Before you could ever ask, he hang up. Probably one of his buddies or a coworker. You honestly didn't care. You just needed to get you and your car home.
You just sat in the drivers seat holding back tears. This car is a piece of junk. Honestly. It's old, lots of miles, but you've done your best to take care of it. The thought of being without a car was scary. How are you gonna get to work? You guess you could rent a car. But that's a lot, and who knows how long you'd need one for. You could buy a new one, but that's even more money. Everyone in your family has jobs, and needs their own car. So you couldn't borrow one. Fuck.
Fuckity fuck fuck.
You didn't have much time to overthink more before you could see Jimin's car pulling up behind yours, off the side of the road.
Curse your brother for having tinted windows, and curse the sun for starting to set, because you had no clue who was in the passenger seat.
You hopped out of your car and popped the hood. You could at least do that much.
"Hey sis! You okay?" No. No I'm not.
"Yeah I'm fine, cold and anxious, but I'm fine." Not a total lie.
You walked Jimin to the hood of your car and gave him a play by play of what happened. He checked all your fluids, and looked at the engine as much as he could. He knew a little about cars, but not as much as your dad did.
You totally forgot about the person in the passenger seat. "Chim, who did..."
Oh fuck.
"Hi Y/N. Car troubles I see?"
You knew that voice anywhere. The boy you befriended when you were 9. The  boy who eventually became better friends with your brother, than you. The boy who moved away when he was 16, but still kept in touch with Jimin, at least.
The boy who turned into a hot fucking man, who is now standing in front of you.
"Jungkookie?"
You were sure your jaw was on the ground. The last time you seen him, in the flesh, was 5 years ago at Jimin's 21st birthday dinner. Sure, you'd see his pictures on social media, and what not, but not in person. Holy shit, is he even real?
Of course he is. Jimin talks all the time about him. Even though he moved, him and Jimin still hang out all the time. Usually they meet somewhere in the middle. He only moved two hours away.
"Ah, you still remember my nickname?" There was that stupid bunny smile. Stupid. Stupidly cute.
"Of course I do. How could I forget?" You flashed him a smile right back. How could you ever forget Jungkook? You only crushed on him for half your life. He was cute. He had always been cute. But once he became more of Jimin's friend, you knew your chances were out the window.
Jimin had one hard rule for his friends. "Leave my little sister alone." He loved being a big brother. He loved being your big brother, even more. He would do anything for you. And that includes keeping you safe. Especially from his friends.
As you got older, you understood that rule, more. Especially when Taehyung was around. Another cute friend of Jimin's, but an absolute flirt, and dare you say, playboy. All of his friends would flirt with you from time to time. Although, you didn't know if it was them actually flirting, or just trying to rile up your brother.
Before you could daydream even more about he man in front of you, Jimin caught you out of your thoughts.
"So, Y/N. Tell Jungkook what happened. He knows cars more than I do."
Suddenly you forgot your words. Jungkook was intimidating. He wasn't the boy you once knew. "I- uh... it was going down the road just fine, t-then, it started j-jerking and I pulled over and it wouldn't switch gears. And now it won't d-do anything."
That felt like it took you 3 weeks to say. You just explained all of this to Jimin in 15 seconds. Pull yourself together.
He just nodded at you, and then started looking over your car more.
God he was hot. You were kinda glad your dad didn't answer.
"It looks like it's your transmission. I'm guessing it probably went out, and you'll need a new one. I can look at it more tomorrow when I can get it off the ground and have more light." He looked at your softly. Surely that's not news anyone wants.
"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."
Jimin rubbed your back to calm you down, "Let's call a tow truck and get it home. Kook can look at it in the morning. He's staying over this weekend."
You sat inside your car while you called your insurance company to see if they could get a tow truck for you. Thankfully they could, and it was on it's way.
Jimin had walked back to his car to call your parents and let them know what was going on. You were just left with the sexy man in front of you.
Do you speak? What is there to say?
"Thank you again for coming with Chim. I really appreciate it. I was hoping my dad was home but... I guess you're okay too." Now what the fuck do you call that?
He chuckled as he looked at the ground, "I'm glad I could help. I'm sorry about all this. Car problems suck."
"It's all good. Had my fair share with this car..." You really didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him. Anyone with a brain would have gotten rid of this car a long time ago. "So uh... what are you doing all the way down here?"
He stared at you blankly. God his eyes alone could ruin you. It was like he was in a trance. He didn't even blink. "Jungkook?" He stared a few seconds longer before he snapped out of whatever it was he was in.
"Sorry, uh... why I'm here... oh! I moved down here actually. Closer to work and I miss you guys." If there was any day light right now, you would see his ears are red. Something that happened when he's embarrassed. Kind of his way of blushing.
"Miss you 'guys'? You mean Jimin?" Surely just Jimin. He had long forgotten about you.
"No, you too."
Huh? 'You too'?
You gulped. There was two ways you could go about this. One, you could tell him off about how he obviously didn't miss you when he left and never really spoke to you. Ever. Or you could play into it and see what exactly he means by that. Before you could even tell yourself which one to go with, your mouth already spoke for you.
"Didn't seem like you missed me too much." You couldn't do this. You didn't even want to continue this conversation. You walked over to Jimin in his car and just listened to the phone call he was having with your parents.
Soon enough, the tow truck was there, and before you, yourself could greet the driver, Jungkook already had it handled. He gave the driver the keys and told him your address. He grabbed your stuff out of your passenger seat and waved the driver off.
"Here, thought you might want these." Again with a soft smile that could destroy you, and he handed you your bag, and jacket.
What the fuck was he doing? Trying to make it up to you?
"I could have done all that by myself. I'm not the little girl you once knew." You gave him the tiniest smirk. What the fuck were you doing? Surely he couldn't see that, this late at night. You walked off and left him while you got in the back of your brothers car.
Thank god it was dark, and you were out of distance, otherwise what Jungkook said would end it all.
"Guess I should find out exactly what that means, Miss Y/N."
He had the same smirk you had, only a lot bigger.
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personasintro · 6 months
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Mutual Help | #43
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↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, Please, be aware this chapter is NOT suitable for sensitive people! It’s also very important chapter in this story but if you’re sensitive person and get easily triggered by sensitive topics, do not read it.
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.4k+
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⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 
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It had been one of those evenings when they all had decided to meet, well most of them, at Hoseok's place. It hadn't been that long since they hung out together, hence the New Year's Trip that happened at the end of December and ended at the beginning of January. Ever since you left that day, the whole atmosphere kind of shifted. Not because of you though. Because of everything that happened which yes, involved you but it's nowhere near your fault.
This had been the first time they had been all hanging out together after that trip, unfortunately without your presence. Of course, you wouldn't have come either way. Not just because that evening had been your first day working back at the club, but also because Kiko had been there too. 
Jungkook knows you well enough you wouldn't have come even if he asked. Plus, he knows it wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. 
And maybe he was naive enough to think that evening would run smoothly and it really would be just one of those evenings when he gets to hang out and laugh with his friends. But was he wrong... 
"Yah! You already ate all of it!" Seokjin's dramatic voice booms out, causing Hoseok to flinch at the sudden outburst that is aimed at Jimin who innocently widens his eyes and opens his mouth.
Jungkook snorts under his breath, secretly snickering at his friend's red neck. 
"It's been here for an hour and anyone barely touched it!" Jimin finds his voice, frowning at the oldest that starts to complain under his breath while Jimin just scoffs and places the empty ball back on the coffee table. 
Kiko chuckles, catching Jungkook's amused eyes as he shakes his head at them which makes her chuckle even more. His arm is stretched behind her, resting on the back of the couch as she eyes Seokjin and Jimin. 
"Hobi, you've got some more snacks in the kitchen, right?" she asks her friend, causing Hoseok to think for a second before he nods.
"Yeah, I think so."
Kiko stands up, noticing Jungkook's curious eyes as she gives him a smile before she looks at everyone. "I'm gonna make you some more snacks."
She hears a few complaints of how she doesn't have to bother, but she just waves her hand already disappearing in the kitchen. After looking for different ingredients, she finds more popcorn and chips which she automatically pulls out, but that doesn't seem enough for five men that could eat all day. Remembering Jimin saying something about craving for something sweet and Hoseok agreeing half an hour ago, she thinks it through as an idea pops in her head. Checking more ingredients, she lets out a content grin when she finds all the ingredients for pancakes while she hears a distant bickering between what sounds like Seokjin and Hoseok, which makes her laugh a little. She focuses on her preparing everything for the pancakes.
It's quick and easy, her hands moving automatically until she's turning off the stove. Opening a glass jar of hazelnut spread, she notices Hoseok coming into the kitchen as he lets out a grumble, saying something about having to get soda for Jimin which she just responds to with a giggle. 
He grabs the bottle of soda, throwing a few glances at her which she doesn't notice, not until he sets the bottle on the kitchen counter, obviously not joining the guys right away. She chuckles, a soft smile appearing on her lips as she questionably looks at him.
"Jungkook is about to go." he informs her, knowing she knows about his plans and to be honest, he's not even sure why he started like that. He had to somehow start this conversation. It's been bothering him for quite some time now.
"Ah, yeah, he told me." she shrugs, not giving too much attention to it. What else does she have to say? 
"So... you and Y/N are still on bad terms?" he asks unsurely, fully knowing the answer to that and probably Kiko knows that, especially her own best friend because they had this conversation before. Still, she tenses a little at his question.
"I... I guess. I apologized but I know I made a mistake, she has every right to be mad at me." she admits, shrugging even though it bothers her.
"This is ruining you, I can see it. Are you really okay with her hating you?" he exclaims in disbelief, still keeping his voice down though.
Kiko stops what she's doing, letting out a huge sigh before she gives a look to him. "No, Hobi, I'm not," she says slightly bitterly, "I know how much it hurts Jungkook to see us not getting along, but it's my fault and I'm taking all that responsibility for it."
"And like I said, it's ruining you," Hoseok says right away, brows pinched together as a displeased frown makes its way on his usually bright face. "It's hurting you and you're not doing anything about it."
"What else can I do?" she exclaims suddenly, clearing her throat as she shifts her gaze away from him. Hoseok means well, she knows that. But talking about it and him trying to solve all of this is just impossible. 
"Talk to Jungkook." he proposes which makes her scoff.
"I talked to him about it, he didn't want to know anything else and I respect that. I already ruined a huge part of our relationship, I don't want to ruin the rest of it." she tells him and his gaze softens when her voice quivers slightly.
She holds a lot of emotions inside her and like Hoseok said many times, it's ruining her inside. Saying Jungkook doesn't want to know is just an excuse, so she doesn't have to face her biggest fear. But Hoseok knows her well enough to know, it's hurting her but she's desperately trying to cope with it because of Jungkook. Because she loves him and knows she doesn't deserve him.
"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. You're just telling that to yourself because you're scared," he tells her honestly, tone getting hushed and stern because she's too stubborn to even consider other solutions. "This is not gonna end up good, Kik and you know it."
Her eyes snap to his face, features hardening because she doesn't want to hear any of this. But Hoseok is determined and even though he's coming from a good place because he truly cares for her, she doesn't want to hear it. Just the thought of it pains her, it's hurting her too much.
"Hobi, please," she murmurs, heart hurting from his stern glance he's giving her. "Don't make this any harder."
"You've made this harder for yourself Kik and you know it," he reminds her and she quickly catches onto the sadness and disappointment in his voice. "This is hard for me too. Jungkook is my friend too."
She knows it, she freaking knows it and him talking about it makes her feel like she's about to burst in tears any second. The guilt eating her out alive to the point she can't pretend to be okay. But things are okay when she's with Jungkook. He has that effect on her and although she knows she hurt him the most and he deserves much better. Only he wouldn't be so sweet and never tried to get her back. 
She's selfish probably, she should've told him 'no' when he approached her and tried to win her back. She shouldn't have succumbed to her heart and feelings she has felt for him. She thought maybe it's another chance for her to make things right. But she got into even a bigger mess without Jungkook knowing. 
"I'm sorry..." she whispers, staring down at her feet in shame.
"No, Kik," Hoseok shakes his head, his own heart cracking at the sight of seeing her in such pain, not mentioning the same guilt he's been seeing for months now. That's why he has decided to voice his concerns to her. He can't see her destroying herself.
And that's why he opens his mouth again, determined to talk to her despite her current state of breaking down again. "I'm your friend, I told you I've got your back. I don't mean to sound as if I'm blaming you... but think about Jungkook. You've to tell him, you should've told him sooner."
Disappointment is written on his face this time, not even surprised when Kiko starts disapprovingly shaking her head. But he sees it. The fear. "No, no he doesn't wanna know," 
She sees the way he raises his brow at her, knowing she's in denial and he's about to open his mouth but she quickly continues. 
"Our relationship is good, Hobi, I can't risk ruining it any further. I'm aware everything is my fault and there is not a day I don't think about it, but I love him. I love him so much and now I finally got him back. Please." 
It's breaking his heart to see her beg him, it's hard to stay determined especially when she's on the verge of tears, sounding weak. But if he doesn't stay determined and make her see the truth she's so desperately afraid of, it's going to keep hurting and ruining her. She's never going to be truly happy. Not saying that Jungkook deserves to know the whole truth. 
Kiko is his best friend, but like it's been said, Jungkook is his friend too. It's hard to look him in the face, knowing things Jungkook doesn't know of. It makes him feel bad and guilty. Kiko is not the only one affected. This has and will affect even more people.
"This has gone too far, Jungkook might be okay with it because he loves you... but he deserves to know. It's hard for me too, but I'm not sure how long I can take it." He reminds her gently.
"Hobi!" she exclaims, panic visible in her eyes as Hoseok shakes his head and she knows he's already decided. 
"If you don't tell him, I will."
And that is everything she's been scared of, selfishly feeling betrayal from her best friend even though she realizes he means no harm. She's been hurting him too, the weight of her actions not hurting only her and Jungkook, but him too. 
"You wouldn't do that..." she shakily whispers, tears pooling in her eyes as he feels the need to look away.
"I'm sorry, Kik. I know I promised you, but this has gone too far. Jungkook is gonna hate both of us, but it's better than him not knowing the whole truth while you're torturing yourself every day. You might think you're happy but deep down, it's always gonna live inside you. And the truth always comes out, the sooner it'll it's better. For everyone."
She's shaking her head, hands clutching her chest as she's about to desperately trying to make him change his mind but before she can even open her mouth, she registers a movement from the corner of her eyes hearing another presence in the room. Her heart drops as soon as she's met with Jungkook, his face almost unreadable but yet one look at him, and she knows. He heard them. 
She barely notices the gasp that leaves her mouth, her insides rolling at the thought of Jungkook hearing their conversation that was never supposed to happen. Her already broken state doesn't make it hard for her to cry, which pains both of them and Hoseok knows it has to be done. Obviously, he didn't know about Jungkook listening to all of this but maybe that's for the best. Now she can't walk away from it and has to face it.
And she's about to lose it when she wants to get closer to Jungkook but he stops her immediately, keeping distance between them.
"I can explain," she jumps to say, "W-we were just talking and--"
"I don't wanna hear anything right now," he cuts her off, shaking his head.
She wants to be mad at Hoseok, for talking about such a thing right now when not only Jungkook, but the rest of the guys are here. Anyone could hear and the only person she wouldn't want to hear is standing right in front of her with a hurt yet empty face. Hoseok senses the tension, knowing he shouldn't be here right now and he excuses himself.
And when she tries to talk to him, explaining it even though she's not sure what to say, he stops her. He sees how confused he is by all of this, his thoughts are not settled and her trying to talk to him would just make it worse.
When 'no more secrets' makes it out of his mouth, she gasps and tries to make her way towards him again but he stops her again, but this time with a glare.
"No, whatever Hoseok wants you to tell me, you will. Tomorrow."
And those are his final words before he walks out of the room, her heart dropping and cracking all over again. Her weak legs not being able to hold her as the panic rising inside her makes her cry even more. And the only person who could bring her comfort just left, wanting from her something she's been afraid of.
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The brown liquid in a cup does nothing but make Jungkook's stomach churn, it settles weirdly in his stomach as soon as he takes a sip, fully aware he has barely slept last night. How could he? Even though his body was pleading for some rest, his mind was too preoccupied with what he heard. And when his eyes finally closed for a short period of time, both mind and body not being able to take in the countless thoughts and tiredness, his dreams had been filled with different scenarios of Kiko and Hoseok. Together.
Instead of getting some energy from his usual morning coffee, he feels like throwing it up as his stomach protests whenever the brown liquid slides down his throat. Ever since he left Hoseok's place, he hasn't been the same.
On his way to get you, all he could think about was their conversation he wasn't supposed to hear. What has surprised him the most is the guilt in Hoseok's voice, telling him that he's much more involved than Kiko has ever admitted. 
The constant support she has gotten from him, the way he has been always there for her and even in the times when they had been broken up, Hoseok always treated her as a delicate doll – as if she wasn't the one who broke up with Jungkook. As if she wasn't the one who hurt him by breaking up with him and then admitting she cheated on him. 
Jungkook remembers the way his hand gripped the steering wheel tightly just at the thought of the only rational guess he could think of. When she assured him Hoseok is not the one she cheated with, he trusted her because her reaction seemed legit. But now that he heard their conversation and especially heard Hoseok, not just his words but the tone he was talking with. Sad, guilty, determined for Jungkook to know the truth.
He can't possibly be in this relationship when there's something happening behind his back, his curiosity and worry increasing rapidly. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to know any details of how it happened and with whom it happened. The less details he knows, the less it hurts and he can't possibly imagine how it'll hurt once he finds out who she cheated with. But now, after hearing Kiko and Hoseok talking and everything about it, he's determined to know the truth.
The ride to the club you're working at was blurry and not even the sight of you already waiting for him with a tired yet soft smile couldn't take his mind off anything. Still, he tried to appear as if nothing happened, spent almost an half of the ride with you complaining how tired you are but telling him you kind of missed it. You even admitted it took your mind off Haneul which relatively, you've been doing fine without him. Jungkook knows keeping yourself busy makes you feel better for numerous reasons. 
And on your part, it wasn't that hard to understand that Jungkook was acting somehow weird. He wasn't talkative as usual and for a moment you thought that the cause of him being so silent and distant, is because it's already late and he has to pick you up and drive you home. But who were you kidding? Jungkook was the first one that proposed picking you up and you knew that it's not the real reason behind his weird behavior. 
And fuck, he wanted to tell you so bad. He didn't even know what he really thought about it. Is he suspecting Hoseok of being the guy Kiko cheated with? Deep down, he knows he does. It makes sense but there's still a part of him that denies it, thinking Hoseok – his friend – wouldn't be able to do that to him. Does it even make sense? Hoseok and Kiko had never been that close.
As Jungkook felt quite overwhelmed, a lump in his throat almost hurting, he noticed how tired you were and that's when you voiced out your concern, asking him if he's alright, he just waved you off and assured you everything's fine. 
Both of you knowing that's not it and there's something more to his behavior, you respectfully minded your own business knowing if he wants to tell you, he will. 
Jungkook isn't even sure how you would react. Would you think Hoseok is able to do that to him? He knows there's some kind of weird tension between you and him, which undoubtedly is caused by the fact he's Kiko's best friend and he's always there to prove that to you. It's almost funny because both of you are actually the same. You and him are both protecting your best friends, proving it to each other.
Earlier in the morning, he had decided and quickly did it before he could change his mind, he texted Kiko the time he wanted to meet. When she had replied she'll be there, he had felt even more stressed from the entire situation. 
And he still feels like it, even when she's sitting on the opposite side of the dining table, nervously gripping the cup of tea he made her. A little trace of the lack of sleep is evident on her face and she seems just as stressed as he does. He can't bring himself to feel satisfied about it. Even though there's this hidden anger and annoyance inside of him (mostly hurt and pain though), he can't feel better to see she doesn't look any better in the first place. He still cares for her.
Perhaps, this is his fault too. He did give her a second chance, he wouldn't even be in this situation right now if he didn't. Yet, he doesn't regret fighting for their love and giving their relationship a second chance, no matter what anyone else thinks about it. To be fair, it's not anyone else's business either.
Kiko's shaky hands don't go unnoticed by Jungkook as she brings the herbal tea closer to her lips to take a sip. She's making him even anxious, to see her be this nervous and he's not even sure if he wants to hear everything. No, he has to... he's just trying to avoid all the pain he's been avoiding for months. 
He had been happy when they got together. It was something new for both of them, earning back that trust which wasn't easy but easier with the love they have been feeling for each other. Will that love be enough this time? 
"Did you drive here in this state?" He can't help but speak up for the first time after they greeted each other and Jungkook led her to his kitchen.
He still might feel like he's about to burst from all the uncomfortable emotions pooling inside him, but he's still worried when he sees how much she's affected by this. Even when she finally gets the courage to look at him, to see his tired and puffy eyes from the lack of sleep, he doesn't mistake the pain behind her brown irises. 
"No," She finds her voice, it comes out raspy and makes her clear her throat slightly as she looks away. "Hoseok drove me here. He's waiting outside."
Jungkook tenses at the mention of Hoseok, his thoughts and fear proving right so far but all he can manage to do is nod. He's definitely involved in this. He knew from the beginning Hoseok knows more than Jungkook does, but the thought of Hoseok being the guy is far worse. 
He rubs his face, covering his mouth for a second as he looks at her. Their eyes meet, sharing a similar pain and discomfort and he swears, he can't take it any longer. "It's him, isn't it?"
Kiko blinks a few times, her hands shakily putting down the cup. "What do you mean?"
She knows what he means, she knows what he's aiming at and she has the audacity to try to buy more time by beating around the bush. That makes him frown and an unappreciative look is sent her way as he's trying to keep it cool.
However, he faces her confidently with an arched brow, silently calling her out on her stalling. She knows very well what he's about to ask. 
"Hoseok," he says simply, "He's the one you cheated on me with." He doesn't ask, he simply states it as he lets his fearful thoughts that have been haunting ever since he heard their conversation out of his mouth. 
There's a beat of silence, Kiko's pupils widening for a moment as she stares at Jungkook with a slightly opened mouth. Her shaky hands land on her lap under the table, away from Jungkook's stern yet hurtful eyes. 
"No," she murmurs, shaking her head before she gets the courage to finally face him again, this time with desperation clear on her saddened features. "Of course not. I already told you it's not him."
That makes Jungkook scoff a little, shaking his head because how can he be sure she's telling the truth? When he looks at her, he doesn't see any traces of lie or something that could indicate her lying. But still, he has his own doubts and trust issues that are no one's fault but her. 
"Why not?" he shrugs bitterly, clenching his jaw. "It'd make sense." He sounds bitter and petty, he fully realizes it but he can't help it. The thought of them together, hurting him like that and doing something so disgusting behind his back makes him sick. 
"Jungkook, please," Kiko shakes her head, voice rising slightly. "Do you honestly think he'd be able to do that to you?"
"I've never thought you'd be able to do that to me and here we are," he exclaims, outstretching his arms all of a sudden which makes her eyes widen for a moment before they're filled with guilt. The same guilt he's seen countless times and that's why he wants to discuss this problem once and for all. "Now tell me the truth... it was him, right?" 
Jungkook isn't aware of the way her heart drops, all he can see is her looking extremely guilty and sad. She's breaking and a tiny part of him feels bad for it, he still loves her after all. No matter how sad, heartbroken and angry he might be, she's still his girlfriend who he loves despite what's about to come. Surely, it won't be any good news and he's aware of it. It's not something he can prepare himself for. He has to face it. 
"No, I already told you," she tells him desperately, letting out a shaky breath as she closes her eyes for a moment, feeling them burn. "It's not him."
He looks at her skeptically, searching her face that has the courage to look back at him. She knows he's trying to see whether she's telling the truth or not, so she faces him even when tears are pooling in her eyes.
And Jungkook doesn't get it. If it's not Hoseok, why the hell does she seem so guilty about it? Would she feel this guilty if it was a stranger? Or someone from her past he hasn't met? One thing is sure, she feels guilty no matter who it is. However, he can't help but let his mind go wild and the possible options. 
Is it someone else from their friends circle? The thought of it being-- no, he can't even think that. They wouldn't do that to him. They've been there for him through this time. She's not even on Taehyung's good side at the moment.
And something snaps inside him. All he wants is for her to talk, to tell him everything but so far she's just answering his guess. He can't control himself when the next words leave his mouth.
"Then fucking tell me," he slaps his hand against the dining table, a loud thud erupting in the kitchen as he stands up abruptly, closing his eyes as fingers run through his raven hair.
Despite his state, he notices Kiko flinch as she stares at him completely shocked, not expecting him to snap like that.
"Sorry," he murmurs an apology, not being able to look at her as he lets go of his hair. "Just-- just tell me everything. I need to know."
"I didn't want to... I still don't want to tell you," she murmurs, shamefully looking at her hands before she meets Jungkook's empty look. "You're gonna hate me and I'm not sure if I'm ready for that."
"I haven't hated you, not even when you came clean about your cheating. Don't you see that I'm trying? I gave you a second chance, I'm trying to find out the truth I deserve to know." He's not careful with his words, letting his heart speak as his tone turns into an accusatory one. 
"I know... I know," she groans, hiding her face in her hands for a second as a single tear rolls down her cheek. "It's so selfish from me, I'm so selfish but I love you so much, Kookie,"
He tenses at the nickname, hardening his glance which makes her smile a little. It's a sad, almost defeated smile. And he stays quiet, not letting the single nickname soften him as he demands answers. But Kiko hasn't said it to soften him, she has said it purely out of her heart because there's no way Jungkook will love her after this. 
"Just please know I did it to protect you, I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to hurt you any further."
"Please, just--" Jungkook almost whimpers, pleading with her to finally start talking because he's growing impatient with each word that leaves her mouth. He's standing, gripping the edge of his kitchen stool as he leans against it, knowing he can't just sit down and stare at her like they're having a casual conversation. 
Nevertheless, Kiko nods quickly and non-verbally lets him know that she's getting to it. 
"Jungkook," It's weird to hear her say Jungkook. He's mostly been Kookie to her, Jungkook sounds distant right now. "When I broke up with you, I wasn't planning on getting back with you. I broke up with you, so you would never have to know the truth. I was better off knowing you hate me for breaking up with you over a stupid reason, than knowing the truth..."
He's heard this before – when they had a conversion when the whole cheating situation came out. That's when he told her he wouldn't be able to hate her. He was hurt, yes. He spent days and nights trying to figure out why she would break up with him all of a sudden. He was so desperate and sad that he had to ask you for help. 
"But then when I saw you with Y/N... I was so hurt by all of it, knowing it's my fault because if I had never broken up with you, you'd still be with me but I had to do it. And then we talked and you confessed that you still love me. I've never stopped loving you Jungkook, so meeting up with you and talking with you about possibly getting back together seemed like the only right option for my broken heart,"
He has this sudden anger inside him, wanting to interrupt her and ask her; Are you the one with a broken heart? You broke up with me. You cheated on me. Of course, rationally it doesn't mean she isn't hurting too. But he's glad she's finally talking, noticing that it isn't easy for her as she brings her shaky fingers to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear every now and then, so he lets her talk while keeping his mouth shut. 
"You gave me a second chance and I thought 'What the hell did I do to deserve this? This must be my chance' and I selfishly took it because yes, I'm selfish but I also love you and I was willing to be with you with guilt eating me alive, if it'd mean I get to be with you again."
"I don't want to hear this, you know what I want to hear from you. The name. The explanation." he tells her sternly, not hiding another prominent frown adoring his extremely tired face. That's another thing she gets to feel guilty about. He has barely slept because of her. His second chance is biting him back in the ass right now. 
"You probably don't want to but you have to," she tells him simply, "I couldn't stay away even though I tried... but it was bound for us to see each other again, like at Jin's and Jia's wedding."
Yeah, that was unavoidable. Two of their friends were getting married, it'd be stupid not to come and attend because they knew one another would be there too. 
"Okay, I get that but what does it have to do with everything?" He knows she's trying to go into depth and maybe if their relationship and his heart weren't at stake, he would be actually patient. This doesn't mean he hasn't been listening though. "As much as it's nice to know you've never stopped loving me, I want to know about the cheating."
All she can muster is to give him a sad smile in return, nodding her head. "Do you remember when we went camping?"
"What about it?" he grumbles in return, growing even more impatient.
On the other hand, Kiko is very patient and even though her misery and sadness is more than clear, she breathes out a small smile. It's barely visible but Jungkook notices it, thanks to his feisty and curious glare. 
"We went for a walk to talk and you wanted to know the reason why I broke up with you."
"Yeah, yeah, I know all of that," he exclaims, frowning. "Where are you going with this? I need the name and explanation, Kiko. Who's the fucker? Who did you fuck behind my back?"
Kiko's eyes widen once again, understanding Jungkook's loud tone and annoyance. Straightening himself, he lets out a huff as he settles a glare back on her. She visibly shifts on her spot, biting the inside of her cheek before she finally looks up at him.
"No one." she whispers.
"What kind of fucked up game is this?!" he exclaims, smacking his hands against thighs frustratedly. He has to turn around, taking a deep breath before he faces her again while she sits behind the table, looking small and fragile. 
He has every right to have this kind of reaction. He feels like he doesn't understand anything. 
"I'm telling you the truth... no one."
Jungkook scoffs at that, "Were you even planning on telling me? Why did you come here? I told you I want an explanation but all I got so far is--"
"I'm telling you right now," she interrupts him, "No one. The answer is no one, Jungkook,"
He's speechless for a moment, staring at her completely dumbfounded with a half-opened mouth as his brows furrowed in a confused glare. He's too shocked and confused to say anything and Kiko doesn't beat around the bush this time, opening her mouth again. 
"I've never cheated on you." she says softly, Jungkook's mind completely shutting down as he just stares at her.
He's not even breathing, quickly gripping the edge of stool as he stares at her with wide doe eyes. "You what..." he whispers, finally taking a short and shaky breath. 
"When you wanted to know why I broke up with you, you told me what Hoseok told you. I panicked because he promised me he wouldn't interfere and say anything to you, it's not his fault though. I begged him not to tell you anything and he has been nothing but a great friend to me. But for a moment I thought you knew, but then you added that you don't know the reason and you suddenly questioned me about cheating."
"B-but you said..." he trails off, too shocked to even finish a sentence. Oh fuck, he swears he's about to faint. He's not sure whether he should be happy or not, but all he can feel is a pure shock that makes him almost unable to react properly. 
"I panicked," She looks down in shame as she says it. "I went along with it because I know the truth would hurt you more."
"So you lied to me? All this time I thought you cheated on me, the hell, Y/N hates you for it and I was suffering ever since you told me that. You even realize what I've been going through?" he exclaims, not believing what he's hearing right now. Is there a chance she's lying right now? She said it herself, she didn't want to tell Jungkook any more details. She could be easily lying and tell him this to make him believe that she never cheated. Would she be able to do that? Fuck, he's not sure. 
"I'm so sorry," she tells him, features curled into a sympathetic gaze which Jungkook responds to with a scoff. "No matter what I say will make up for what I caused you. That's why I broke up with you and wasn't planning on getting back together. I made a mistake, I should've stayed away from you."
"No," Jungkook shakes his head firmly, "You should've been honest with me from the beginning. That's what I deserve."
She doesn't deny it, he's completely right and she knows it. She's not just sad and hurt, but also ashamed that she's being called out by Jungkook at this very moment, fully realizing things are about to get worse. Jungkook is already looking like he's barely holding up.
"I know..." she whispers.
A few seconds of silence follows as Jungkook is completely overwhelmed by the news, feeling like a rock has fallen off his heart. All this time he thought he wasn't good enough, tried not to think about her cheating too much even though that was almost impossible. And for his own sake, he settled on not wanting to know any details. Would she keep lying if he insisted knowing how it happened and with who?
But as his mind starts to process more thoughts and different kinds of possible scenarios, he's remembered of what she has said too. This is no longer just about cheating that proved to be a product of a big and painful lie.
"So, what's the truth?"
Kiko has been waiting for him to ask that but once he does, she's not ready for it as she expected to be. Deep down, she knows she wouldn't ever be ready for this but it's something she has to do.
"You told me the truth will hurt me more, so I'm asking... What's the truth? What's the real reason why you broke up with me?"
You're confused when you're in the middle of sorting out your dirty laundry when your phone starts to ring. Maybe it's Jungkook, you think, wondering what he's up to. He was acting weird yesterday when he picked you up. As much as you wanted to make sure he's okay and maybe pry a little to know if something happened, you quickly stopped yourself because he obviously didn't want to talk about it. Maybe he had a fight with Kiko. After all, she's still a sensitive topic between you two and even though you mostly try to keep your opinions rational, it's been a very dangerous zone mentioning her.
He could tell you they had an argument and you wouldn't even have to hear what it was about before you'd have a bitter remark back. And Jungkook knows that, so he probably decided not to say anything. Plus, it doesn't have to be something serious.
However, being you and your usual nosy self, you didn't miss the opportunity to ask Jimin when he texted you later in the evening yesterday. Apparently, they both acted weird and when Jungkook left to pick you up, Kiko left soon after looking as if she was crying. Hoseok was acting weird too, almost as if he knew what happened between them but never commented on it for the rest of the night. 
Your brows twist into a confusion when an unknown number is calling you, your annoyance rising. It's probably another mobile operator or someone from the insurance company trying to get you to take a mortgage. You're about to cancel the call but you've this weird feeling, something urging you to pick up. It's Sunday, do they even call on Sundays?
With a sigh, you pick up the phone and you're not going to lie, annoyed you make an appearance when you not so pleasantly answer the call with a; "Hello?"
"Y/N?"
You're confused, pulling away from the phone with a scrunched nose and confused glare as you stare at the unknown number. The voice seems familiar but you can't quite pinpoint who it is. "Yeah?"
"It's me Hoseok," he says, somehow sounding nervous for some reason. When did he even get your number? You've never given it to him, that's for sure. There never was a reason to give him your number anyway. 
"You free to talk?"
"Uhhh, yeah?" you ask unsurely, caging your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you start continuing to rummage through your clothes, separating white from colorful clothing. 
"Listen, I need you to come to Jungkook's place."
You freeze for a second, "And why's that?"
"He needs you." he says, sounding more confident and kind of panicky which makes a pang hit you in your chest. 
"Did something happen?" You sound an alarm, dropping down your dirty white blouse back to the laundry basket that's on the floor as you straighten yourself, gripping the phone into your hand. 
"I--just trust me please. You need to come to Jungkook's place like, right now. He needs you."
"You're scaring me, Hoseok." you tell him, but your legs still move you to your bedroom to get you out of your pajamas before you're already pulling out a random pair of sweatpants from your closet. 
"I'm sorry, but I had to call you. Please, just come here as fast as you can." He sounds desperate and what you can't see is the way Hoseok frustratedly rubs his forehead as he stares at the apartment complex where Jungkook lives. 
He's been in his car for quite some time and there hasn't been any sign from Kiko coming down. He knows their conversation will take its time, he's fully aware of it but he knows what Kiko is about to tell him won't end up good. For both of them, but right now, he's mainly concerned about Jungkook. What is about to be dropped down on him will ruin him.
"Alright, I'm coming." 
Hoseok hears rustling and you rushing, the call between you two ending as he lets out a shaky breath. He doesn't feel any better but still, there's at least some kind of hope that you'll get here. 
After all, he wasn't lying. Jungkook needs you, even if he doesn't know it yet. 
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Each passing second seems like an hour, at least to Jungkook who stares at his girlfriend with a stern and solid look. He's completely oblivious to the battle that's happening inside her head. She's going to lose him, she knows she will but she has to face the consequences. She also has to come with the terms that's what's going to happen. There's no way she can save their relationship after this. 
What Jungkook is not oblivious about, is her constant shaking fingers that yes, breaks his heart but he has to control his worried and protective side. It's nothing new but he knows she's the one at fault in this and as much as his heart is big and generous, he just wants to know the truth after all.
"Listen," he sighs, widening his eyes when she flinches, not expecting him to say something. It's like she's scared of whatever he's about to say. It makes him even more nervous, but also curious why she's acting like this. 
"Whatever you're about to tell me, I can see it's affecting you and you're worrying me. But I've to know, you understand that, right?" 
She nods weakly, sniffling a little as she looks up and meets his big doe eyes that aren't as welcoming as they were when they met. He looks stern, features hard and sharp but even despite that, there's a hint of concern in his chocolate dark eyes.
But this time, Jungkook doesn't wait around and stares at her, giving her the time. So he presses again, impatience clear in his voice. "Tell me the reason, Kik."
And that's the hitting point when a loud sob leaves her mouth as she starts crying, covering her face with hands. Jungkook's features soften but he doesn't move from his spot, simply watching her body shake as she cries. She's trying to hold it in, pulling hands away from her face as she takes a deep yet shaky breath. And then she musters all the courage to look him in the eyes for god knows how many times.
"I... I was pregnant," 
The words are whispered but Jungkook has heard it nevertheless, his whole body freezing. What did she say? It feels like the blood has drained from his body and the whole world has stopped. He'd have believed it if it weren't for Kiko and her obvious body movement as she starts sobbing. 
"You--what?" Jungkook manages to choke out, feeling his throat tightening and even the simplest thing like breathing makes him feel like he's about to choke.
Kiko's features twist painfully as she sucks in breath before opening her mouth. She has already said it. There's no way of going back. "I was pregnant,"
This time slightly louder, Jungkook's mouth falls open as the same shock fills up his whole face.
"With your baby."
And that makes him almost lose his balance, his hands quickly grasping the edge of the kitchen island. All he can hear is the word 'pregnant', not believing that this is happening. The simple sentence keeps repeating in his head but it's far from simple, he still can't fully process what she just said to him.
He feels ringing in his ears, shutting his eyes tightly when he can't forget another detail in the three word sentence. His voice comes out as desperate, the usual sweet yet deep voice is gone as both of them can hear that it's breaking. He is breaking. 
And again, Kiko braces herself for yet another shocking and breaking news that would surely be the ending call. Full of shame, her own voice breaking when she says; "I got an abortion." 
And that's the final straw for Jungkook because before shock fully settles inside him again, he can't take it and feels a harsh pang in his chest. That kind of pain that he has never felt before. Sadness, betrayal, anger... he can't possibly name all the emotions he's experiencing and feeling right now. 
Jungkook doesn't think of himself as someone who's mentally completely strong, can get through anything in life and is undestroyable. Yet, he's not weak either. Oh, well, it's better to say that he never really had to experience something that would make him feel weak – at least not to the point he felt like going on his knees. But that's changed. Because if it weren't for the tight grip he has on a kitchen island, he'd surely be on his knees right now.
He lets his heart and emotions speak, the utter heartbreak and loss he's feeling makes his eyes sting with tears as they start coming down his cheeks in waves. No sound makes it past his lips though. Once he hears the stool screech against his marble floor in the kitchen, he grows tense and turns around. 
Kiko stops in her tracks, her face mirroring Jungkook as she can't seem to stop crying, but this time they just stare at each other. Kiko stares in pain, Jungkook in a hundred other emotions that's enough to break every single heart that would see him. 
"Why?"
It's a simple question, yet holds so much pain as Jungkook manages to ask, having to look away because he's not sure how much he can look at her without breaking apart. 
Maybe something happened and she had to-- no, he's not going to think about possible reasons of why she did that just to make himself feel better, even if it's not possible. 
"I--I wasn't ready," she tries to say, her voice shaky as she notices the way Jungkook's whole back tenses while his jaw is clenched so tightly that he's scared he's about to crack it.
Betrayal is the first thing that crosses his mind. There are so many questions that keep screaming inside his mind and it causes something to snap inside him. Grabbing his phone that's been sitting a few inches from his hands, he surprises both of them when he throws it against the wall. The device breaks apart as soon as it hits the wall, flying to three different directions.
Kiko jumps in surprise, a surprised yelp leaving her mouth and more tears welled up in her eyes when she glances back at Jungkook who keeps his head low, shaking his head. 
"We weren't ready, Jungkook. It happened all of a sudden--"
"That happens when people have unprotected sex," he snaps, straightening himself as he turns around and glares at her. Despite the anger evident on his face, there's mostly sadness and disappointment that anyone would notice if they knew Jungkook for so long. 
"I was on birth control, Jungkook," she reminds him softly and stupidly, knowing it's completely lame – at least Jungkook thinks that when he scoffs loudly. 
They both knew the risks, obviously both of them weren't planning on having a baby so soon. He wanted to do it step by step. Maybe he's old fashioned but he wanted her to move in with him. He knew he wanted to propose in the near future as well. But if she got pregnant and even if it wasn't planned, he wouldn't be angry and he would act responsibly according to that. 
They are a couple, were dating for over two years back then, but that's not what breaks him the most. Is the fact she did something like that without him knowing. She didn't tell him, she kept it a secret and it was too late to change her mind. It hurts him to think she didn't come up to him and talked to him about it.
"I can't believe you," he whispers, shutting his eyes tightly because a sudden mourn overcomes him. He's not sure how much he can take. "I deserved to know!" he suddenly yells, shaky hands going into his hair as he tugs on it harshly. 
She stares in shame at him, knowing looks are crossing her features but there's nothing she can do. She can't change anything.
It all makes sense. How scared she looked when he asked her about the reason for their break-up. How guilty she looked and said she made a mistake, that she regrets it and will live with it for the rest of her life. 
He suddenly imagines their baby, wondering if it was a girl or a boy. What the baby would look like. Would the baby look like him? Would the baby have his personality? Would the baby be a perfect mix of them both? 
Being a father wasn't his nearest goal but surely was something he was looking forward to and if it happened at the most unexpected time, he wouldn't even think of getting rid of... her or him? 
"You didn't tell me, I had every right to know about that! How dare you make such a decision without me even knowing you were--" He can't bring himself to even say it, pressing his lips tightly while she wipes the never ending tears off her cheeks. 
"It's my body." She tries to argue, trying to find something to protect herself even though she realizes Jungkook is right. She had much more time to think about this than he has. Everything he feels towards her right now, she felt towards herself for months. 
"And it was my baby too!" he yells, trashing his hands angrily. "I can't believe you'd have done something like this. You betrayed me. You--you didn't even tell me you were pregnant, we could've talked about it. Do you think I wouldn't be able to take care of you?"
She shakes her head quickly, desperation curling on her face as she tries to take a step closer to him but he takes a step back.
"Of course not," she cries out.
Now it's not the time to feel insecure but fuck, does it hurt knowing she didn't want to have his baby. After two years of dating, he thought she loved him. That she trusted him and she completely broke his trust, and him too. 
"The doctor told me there's a chance the baby is not healthy. They couldn't run too many tests because I was still early in the pregnancy... it was a risk and--and I panicked," Jungkook scoffs, getting angrier and sadder with each word she says. It's like he can't stand her talking. "Jungkook, I've thought about it every second since the doctor told me that. We weren't ready for a baby, Jungkook, but if the doctor told me the baby is all healthy, things would be different. We would be able to work it out maybe, but--"
"Shut up," Jungkook cuts her off, taking a shaky breath as he shakes his head, "Just shut up," he says angrily this time.
"When-- when did you..."
He doesn't even have to finish a sentence for her to know what she's asking. 
"After I broke up with you," she whispers, seeing another pained look on Jungkook's face.
So when she broke up with him, she was carrying their baby. The baby they made with love without them even knowing. Still, it was proof of their love – expected or not. 
"I couldn't--I couldn't tell you what I was about to do. I knew it'd affect you and hurt you, I knew it'd destroy you--"
"So you came up with a lame excuse. Do you even know what I've been through? What have I done to get you back?" He bitterly chuckles at himself how stupid and naive he was. He was fighting for her this whole time without knowing she fucking betrayed him and hurt him in a complete different manner. 
She looks away, not being able to look him in the eyes as she weakly nods, sobbing. 
"I understand it's your body--but the baby--it was mine too. I had every right to know about it." He tries to sound angry but his voice cracks and he's ready to fall apart.
"I know..."
"You know?!" he yells, ignoring the way she flinches. "You know and yet you've--just--leave, fucking leave." he snaps desperately, hands rubbing his red and puffy face as his palms get wet from the tears that are running down his face. 
He's not sure if he ever cried like this before. One thing he knows is that he has never felt this kind of heartbreak and pain before. This is something completely new to him and he has no idea how to cope with it. But what he does know is that he can't be in her presence. Not when he can barely look at her.
"Jungkook, please--" she cries out, running towards him as she grasps his hands desperately but she gets pushed away easily by him. It's the first time he has ever done something like that. She is shocked but then the shock is gone, fully understanding his reaction. It's breaking her. 
"Get out," he snaps, pointing towards the door. She's crying, loudly and messily and still tries to hold onto Jungkook but he grasps her forearms and shakes her a little. "Get the fuck out!" he yells, pushing her away, still careful not to push her too hard. He really doesn't want to hurt her, he's not capable of hurting her like that but right now, the pain is ruining him.. 
"I don't ever wanna see you again." 
She freezes, her mouth opening before a loud choked sob leaves her mouth. She's staring at him, stupidly hoping that he said it just because he's hurt but no. He's too upset right now and she fears that when she walks out of this apartment, she will never see him again. A tiny part of her is reconciled with that but the other rejects the most obvious. This is what she has been so scared of. Her biggest fear became a reality. She knows it's all her fault, she messed up badly and there's no turning back because one look at Jungkook, she already knows she lost him.
The usual sweet and loving boyfriend that has always loved her from day one, is now standing a few meters away from her completely broken, and it's all because of her. 
And that moment she realizes that there's nothing she can do and the best thing she can do for him, is to leave as he requests. It's enough that he can't even look her in the eyes, avoiding to look even in the direction she's standing. He despises her, hates her probably right now. She wouldn't be surprised.
So she turns around, barely holding herself as she quickly rushes out of his front door after grabbing her coat and putting on her shoes, nearly colliding with someone that almost easily pushes her to the ground, if it weren't for the grasp on her shoulders that holds her balanced. 
The first thing you notice is the way her whole body shakes, loud sobs leaving her mouth as she looks at her, probably not recognizing you at first from her blurry vision and all the tears that are the cause of that. 
"What happened?" you ask shocked, letting go of her hands as she's crying so hard that even you're shocked and completely speechless. Yet, your heart beats fast at all the possible scenarios that happened.
You haven't talked to Hoseok, not even when you rushed out of your car and noticed his own parked in the distance. All you could think of were his words and that you're needed right now. But you've never imagined this – Kiko shaking and crying so much that you're actually worried about her. She looks like seconds from a panic attack and you panic too, cursing that you didn't call for Hoseok so he could come up with you.
But you couldn't have expected this to happen. 
She's shaking her head, trying to rush past you but you block her, staring at her with wide eyes.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" she cries out, bumping into you as she rushes past you, not even waiting for the elevator as she takes the stairs.
You stand there frozen for a moment, but that's until you hear a loud crash coming from Jungkook's apartment, the front door of it still opened when Kiko barged out of there. You quickly rush inside, shutting the door with a loud thud that makes you cringe. You don't even take off your shoes, your heart dropping when you hear another crash that comes out from the kitchen. 
The sight you see when you make it there, it's something you've never seen before and it makes your heart drop all over again. Jungkook is like in a trance, glass scattered all over the floor as he grabs a cup on the dining table before he smashes it against the wall. The dark liquid makes an awful stain on the wall and you gasp, rushing towards Jungkook when he's already taking another vase off his kitchen counter.
"Jungkook! Jungkook!" you yell at him, gripping his wrists tightly as he fights against your hold.
It's only when you get closer to him you realize that he's crying, his eyes red and puffy, causing your stomach to twist. His hair is falling into his face but you can still make out the pain and how much he's trying to turn, so you can't see him. But it's too late.
You almost yelp when he tries to pry your hands off him, him being completely stronger he can do that very easily, but not in his current state. 
"What happened? Jungkook, what happened?" You're surprised when a loud sob comes out of his mouth, completely shattering your shocked state as the simple sound and sight of him makes you cry too as you ask him those questions. It already breaks your heart to see him like this and there's no time to be shocked about it. 
He's crying, a choked up sobs causing his body to shake before he stumbles into the wall behind him and you're trying to hold him, as he slides down the wall defeatedly, with you going with him.
You're not waiting for anything, your body moving automatically as you hug him closer to yourself, his face pressed against your chest as he finally allows himself to cry even more. 
All you can do is to be there for him so you hold him, not uttering a single word because you know nothing you could say would help. You hold him tightly, letting him know you're there for him even though you're not sure if he truly pays attention to you. Hoseok was right, he needs you.
What the hell happened here? Did he and Kiko fight to the point it went this wrong? None of this makes any sense, so you wonder... Did he fight out who she cheated with? Did he figure out who it was? And Hoseok knowing all about this – is he the one who she cheated with? Your thoughts are running wild, frequently distracted by Jungkook who has seemed to calm down in your hold as he has stopped resisting.
However, the constant crying never ends, not even when the loud sobs aren't just as loud anymore. The whole kitchen looks like a mess, glass shattered everywhere caused by Jungkook's anger or whatever that was and you kick a few shards away from the two of you, so you wouldn't cut on it accidentally. It's like a bomb has exploded here and it makes you even more concerned.
"You're okay..." you murmur, your voice shaky as your own cheeks are wet from the tears. Pecking the top of his head you hear him sob again as this time, he holds your arms and squeezes it tightly. 
He's far from okay actually, anyone could tell that. 
Just when it seems as if he calmed down, occasional sniffles coming out of him while his body seems to not be shaking as much, you don't expect him to say anything. You've been sitting there for quite some time, you holding him while he cries it out whatever that has happened between him and Kiko. 
"She... she was pregnant," You barely understand what he's saying, but somehow you catch onto it and your breath hitches. "She never cheated," he speaks out, voice completely broken and raspy from all the crying. He doesn't even sound like Jungkook and that scares you. You're seriously worried about him but you don't dare to move to look at his face.
You're glad he's able to talk, that he's talking to you.
And you don't ask, no matter how much your heart drops at his words, no matter how shocked you're. You let him tell you at his own pace, even though your mind is going crazy. Kiko and pregnant? Was pregnant? The worst scenarios are about to come up in your head but you shake them off, heart painfully crying for Jungkook instead. 
"She got rid of our baby." And that's when he loses it all over again, crying out loud as he says that extremely painful truth that makes you gasp, your own sobs leaving your mouth when Jungkook breaks all over again.
And you're breaking with him, not being able to imagine what kind of pain he's going through. You're completely clueless of what to do and how to ease his pain, knowing it's not possible at the moment and if ever. 
So, just like you've been doing ever since you rushed to his place, you hold him even tighter, your lips giving a peck on the top of his head. Even the mess of scattered glass on the floor doesn't compare to the damage Jungkook's heart is experiencing.
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