softhaes

[softhaes]

The Seventh Precinct 03

summary. As a newly transferred Detective you join into the Seventh Precinct, Expecting professionalism, structure, and a chance to prove yourself. What you actually get instead is one scooter crash, a group of the most handsome detectives in the department , and Jeon Jungkook—tattooed, cocky, annoyingly hot, and apparently allergic to you.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: coworkers x lovers ,slight rivals to lovers, budding romance, crack, slow burn, smut (eventual)

chapter warnings: married couple behavior from two people who "aren’t dating" , Jin being smooth and Jungkook unwell , undercover stares that last too long, miranda rights (finally), emotional intimacy, a very almost kiss, and Jungkook being soft and annoying in equal measure

word count: 7.2k

authors notes: okay full disclosure I'm having a horrible week and it's Wednesday. also I have 2 more weeks of break before I go back to work and I wanna cry. and the cherry on top is that the new job I applied for hasn't responded to me and life just is not iconic rn. so anyways part 3. I really hope ya'll like it. I feel like things are starting to heat up with jk and oc but also are almost exactly the same lol?? no clue. but let me know what you guys think. Do yall think Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing this whole time… or is he just emotionally constipated with a pretty face???  Are we shipping yet? Should we ship yet? Should they kiss or suffer more? Lmk I need a win this week.

extras:

Episode Three: Flirty Protocol

<previous episode next episode >

The bullpen was unusually calm for a weekday morning. Jin sat smugly at his desk, flipping through his self-made “Face of the 7th Precinct” calendar — a glossy, full-color masterpiece featuring only himself in increasingly dramatic poses. He was currently admiring “January: Thoughtful in Tactical Gear.”

Hoseok sorted files with the intensity of someone trying not to scream. Namjoon was on the phone in his office, looking like he was moments from banning everyone from caffeine. Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, which was perfectly on-brand.

Taehyung and Jimin were huddled over Taehyung’s desk, deep in what appeared to be a botanical therapy session.

“I’m telling you,” Taehyung said, stroking the tiny leaves of a succulent, “Gregory does better when I speak to him. He’s a Gemini. He needs words of affirmation.”

“You think the plant knows it’s a Gemini?” Jimin asked flatly, yet did not move away.

“He feels it,” Taehyung whispered.

“Okay, first of all, what is wrong with you,” Jimin muttered, but made no effort to move away. In fact, he leaned in. “...What’s the fern’s name?”

Taehyung brightened instantly. “Ferneigh. Like Fern, but more majestic. She’s temperamental.”

Jimin looked down at the tiny plant with unexpected seriousness. “Honestly… she gives that vibe.”

Before Taehyung could continue his botanic TED Talk, the front doors burst open with dramatic flair. You and Jungkook entered mid-argument — not angry, exactly, but loud and fast-paced enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

“You can’t put mustard on a tuna melt!” Jungkook barked.

“Why not?” you snapped back. “It cuts the richness!”

“It ruins the chemistry! That’s a culinary crime!”

“You’re the crime.”

“You got two types of mustard—who does that?!”

The bullpen froze.

Jin sat up straighter. “Ooh, telenovela time.”

Jimin leaned forward, stage-whispering, “They’re gonna kiss or kill each other. I’m betting on both.”

Taehyung made a cross with two highlighters. “Protect Gregory.”

Jungkook turned to the room, holding up the offending sandwich. “Would you eat this abomination?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s your exact order. Turkey, pepper jack, toasted whole grain, extra spinach, no tomato, chipotle sauce, light honey mustard, plus a side of gratitude, you ungrateful man-child.”

Jin whistled. “Married couple energy is crazy today.”

“We’re not a couple,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“I’d rather date Yoongi,” you added with a scoff.

From somewhere — maybe the vents — Yoongi’s voice rang out: “Hard pass.”

Without missing a beat, Jimin grinned. “Well I’d date you.”

The entire room turned to him. Jimin shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a wink. “What? You make a good sandwich and I love drama.”

Jungkook blinked. “Okay—what is happening—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Hoseok cut in, clapping his hands. “Take it to the briefing room, lovers and liars. Let’s go.”

You and Jungkook filed in with the rest of the squad. You sat next to him, obviously. Jimin and Taehyung took the chairs in front, whispering audibly. Yoongi appeared in the back row. No one had seen him enter.

Namjoon stood at the front near the whiteboard. Hoseok took the seat beside him, clipboard in hand.

Namjoon’s voice was even and clipped. “Okay, team. We’ve got a potential lead on an identity theft ring targeting engaged couples—high-profile ones. We need two detectives to pose as a couple and scope out the vendors.”

Jungkook elbowed you with a grin. “You heard that? You gotta promise not to fall in love with me.”

“I’d rather choke on tuna mustard,” you muttered.

But before anyone could say more, Hoseok snapped his folder shut. “Oh, hell no. Absolutely not. You two are benched.”

You both turned in sync, scandalized. “EXCUSE ME?”

Namjoon, deadpan: “You made matching coffee orders and argued over who made it better. During a murder brief.”

Taehyung gasped. “Oh right, the great almond milk standoff.”

“You compared froth consistency like it was a science experiment.” Jimin said.

You crossed your arms. “So because we’re getting a long—”

“—and have taste,” Jungkook added—

“You’re punishing us?”

“You’re being rotated for everyone’s emotional safety,” Namjoon clarified. “Detective Kim will be going undercover with Detective L/N.”

Jungkook nearly choked. “Jin?!”

Jin beamed. “Oh, I already have a backstory planned. We met at a farmers market. You, tragically, are lactose intolerant but love me anyway.”

You gawked. “No. No, no, no—”

Too late.

Jin was already up on his feet grabbing the fake rings in Namjoons hand.

“Dear Lord” you mumble.

The others trickled out of the briefing room with murmurs of "good luck" and “try not to kill each other.” Yoongi vanished first. Jimin lingered in the doorway, pretending to scroll through his phone, but he was absolutely listening. Jungkook hadn’t moved from his seat.

“You can leave now,” Hoseok said flatly, pointing at him.

Jungkook crossed his arms. “I’m good here.”

“You’re benched.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t learn.”

Hoseok sighed but gave up. He turned to you and Jin. “Alright, lovebirds. If you’re going to convince vendors you’re getting married, you need to know your backstory. Dates. Details. Cute couple stuff. Jin—make her swoon.”

Jin grinned like he’d just been told he got to star in a drama. He scooted closer to you, casually placing an arm on the back of your chair. “So, sweetheart, tell them how we met.”

You snorted at first. But when you glanced over, he was in full charm mode. Chin resting on his hand. Soft smile. Warm eyes.

You blinked. “Uh… we met at a bookstore?”

Jin gasped like it was the most romantic thing in the world. “Yes. You were in the poetry aisle, crying over Neruda. I handed you tissues and said, ‘If you like tragic men, I’m a bestseller.’”

You laughed out loud, hand covering your mouth.

Jungkook scoffed from the corner. “No one talks like that.”

Hoseok raised a brow. “Jungkook.”

“What?” Jungkook said innocently, arms crossed tighter. “I’m just saying it’s unrealistic.”

“Moving on,” Hoseok sighed.

Jin leaned in, resting a hand gently over yours. “When did I know you were the one? Easy. That first date. When you ordered for both of us because I was too busy helping the waiter who dropped the tray. You took care of me before I even realized I needed it.”

You blinked again. That… was really sweet.

“Jesus,” Jungkook muttered. “You gonna propose with a sonnet next?”

Jin didn’t skip a beat. “I could.”

“Please don’t,” Jungkook grumbled.

“That’s two comments,” Hoseok said, giving Jungkook a look.

Jin grinned. “It’s okay. He’s just jealous.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up.

“Alright,” Hoseok cut in, “Let’s wrap this—”

“What’s your favorite thing about her?” Jin read, keeping his eyes locked on you. “For the file.”

You laughed nervously. “Do we really need that?”

“For believability,” Jin said softly. “So I’ll go first. It’s the way you walk into a room like you own it but still hold space for everyone else. You’re confident, but not loud. Strong, but never cold. That kind of grace is rare.”

Your mouth opened slightly, a little stunned.

Third time’s the charm.

“Oh, come on,” Jungkook barked.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Hoseok closed his folder. “Okay. What, Jeon? You clearly have something to say. Think you can do better?”

Jungkook stood. “Actually, yeah. I do.”

He walked over, gently nudged Jin aside, and stood in front of you as you sat down. Then, before you could say anything, he took your hand.

“Ask me the same questions.”

Your mouth opened, stunned. Hoseok motioned for Jimin to record. Jimin obliged immediately.

Hoseok cleared his throat, suppressing a grin. “How did you two meet?”

Jungkook smiled slightly, but his eyes were soft—dangerous. “She was undercover. I was on backup. She ignored my calls, handled the whole thing herself, and still brought in the perp with a broken heel and half a radio. I thought—‘yeah, I’m gonna marry that one.’”

Your heart lurched.

“What was the first thing you noticed about her?” Hoseok continued.

He didn’t hesitate. “Her laugh. It’s loud. Surprising. It caught me off guard the first time. Made me want to be the reason for it.”

Your throat went dry.

Jin blinked, a little stunned himself now.

“Favorite thing about her?” Hoseok asked quietly.

Jungkook squeezed your hand. “She doesn’t flinch when people underestimate her. She leans in. Proves them wrong. Every damn time. There’s no one else I’d rather come home to.”

Silence.

Even Jimin stopped filming.

Jungkook cleared his throat and dropped your hand like it burned. “Anyway. That’s how you fake a couple.”

He turned and walked out, leaving you speechless and Hoseok blinking.

Jin gave a low whistle. “Well. Damn. That was… better than mine.”

You swallowed. “He’s… really annoying.”

Jimin nodded from the door. “Yeah, but in that hot, slow-burn way.”

Hoseok clapped, bringing everyone back together. “Okay now for your answers about Jin.”

Jungkook hadn’t said a word since Y/N left with Jin for the sting.

He told himself it was because he was focused. Locked in. Dedicated to the mannequin case, or whatever was still sitting half-done on his desk.

But mostly, it was because he couldn’t stop picturing them—Jin and Y/N—fake-flirting.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

"You good, lover boy?" Jimin asked, plopping into the seat across from him with all the subtlety of a cymbal crash.

"I’m working."

Taehyung appeared out of nowhere, as he often did, holding one of Jin’s Face of the 7th Precinct calendars and squinting at it like it contained ancient prophecy. “You know, if you stare at the door hard enough, it’s not gonna open any faster.”

Jungkook didn’t respond.

Jimin grinned. “She’ll be back soon, bro. You want us to cue the romantic reunion music? I got a speaker somewhere.”

“Shut up.”

“Or maybe a montage?” Taehyung offered. “You running down the hallway in slow motion. Her fake engagement ring catching the light. Jin standing in the background heartbroken—”

Jungkook sat forward. “They’re not actually engaged.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a knowing look like they’d just cracked the Da Vinci code.

“Ohhhh,” Jimin crooned. “That’s what this is about. You’re mad Jin got to wear the ring. Not even the bust or the collar—just the ring.”

Jungkook scoffed, snatching a file off his desk. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But she is your work wife,” Taehyung added innocently.

“Yeah,” Jimin smirked. “And someone else planned the wedding. That’s gotta sting.”

Jungkook slammed the file shut. “She’s my partner. That’s it.”

Jimin leaned in, wiggling his eyebrows “You wanna see the video?”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “What video?”

Jimin practically teleports over with his phone already cued. “You doing the absolute most in fake couple training.”

Jungkook glares. “Delete it.”

“Absolutely not. This is cinema. Watch this part—look at your eyes. You’re in love.” Jimin states adamantly.

Jungkook watches the clip with the tension of someone defusing a bomb. On-screen, he’s holding OC’s hand and murmuring something that definitely sounds like “There’s no one else I’d rather come home to.”

Taehyung fake-sobs. “Oscar-worthy.”

“Why would you even record that?” Jungkook huffs.

“Oh, I recorded the briefing for documentation purposes,” Jimin said, trying to look official, “and also because I knew you’d act like a raging ex.”

Taehyung snorted so hard he choked on his coffee.

Jungkook gritted his teeth. “I don’t like her.”

“No one said you did,” Taehyung sing-songed. “We just heavily implied it with every word we’ve said for the past ten minutes.”

He opened his mouth to argue when you walked back in with Jin, the fake engagement ring still snug around your finger. 

The sting operation had gone smoothly, though Jin spent half the time making quips about wedding registries and how you should really consider tulips over roses.

Your cheeks still held the flush of adrenaline when the precinct doors opened and all eyes fell on you.

Well—not all.

Jungkook had been glued to his desk all morning, barely speaking, save for a few sarcastic comments under his breath. But the moment you walked in, his head lifted.

His eyes scanned you instantly—your flushed cheeks, the ring, the ghost of a smile still playing on your lips. His jaw tightened.

"You're back," he said, standing a little too quickly, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. Like he’d been waiting for you.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yup. Busted three guys posing as bakery delivery men. Got the names of their distributors. Jin was actually helpful.”

Jin beamed. “We made a great couple. Everyone believed us. Even the flower lady asked if we were registered at Target.”

You laughed.

Jungkook didn’t.

He blinked, then zeroed in on your hand. “That thing’s crooked,” he said, nodding at the ring. “Here.”

Before you could react, he reached out, gently grabbing your fingers. His touch was careful but certain, like muscle memory—like he’d done this before.

But he hadn’t. He shouldn’t have.

Still, your heart flipped.

Jungkook slipped the ring off your hand with practiced ease. For a second, his thumb grazed the inside of your palm, and your breath caught.

And then—he turned, pivoted on his heel, and whipped the plastic ring directly at Jimin’s chest.

It bounced off Jimin with a soft thwack.

“What the hell, dude?” Jimin clutched the ring in mock offense. “You could’ve handed it.”

“You’ll survive," Jungkook muttered without looking back, returning to his desk with the grace of a toddler mid-tantrum.

You blinked, trying to process what had just happened. Jin blinked too. Then Taehyung let out a dramatic gasp that might as well have echoed through the walls.

The room cracked with laughter. But you? You stood frozen. Because what was that?

Was Jungkook—jealous?

No. That would mean he liked you. And that didn’t make any sense.

Right?

Before you could spiral, Hoseok wandered over with a manila folder in hand and that soft smile that somehow made things feel okay again.

“Well done,” he said, giving you a subtle nod. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” you said, voice a little hoarse.

Hoseok looked over at Jungkook and then back to you. “You can have him back tomorrow.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “Yeah. You made us proud. And besides he sat here sulking ever since you left. Can’t afford to have him pouting.”

Jungkook sat pretending to work, though his eyes flicked up every few seconds.

He didn’t even know why he’d done that. Why the sight of that stupid plastic ring on your hand made him want to punt it across the room. Why hearing you and Jin laugh felt like nails on a chalkboard. Why couldn't he just sit still and chill the hell out.

And worst of all—why he hated how good you looked pretending to be with someone else.

You weren’t his.

But God, you made it hard for him to keep pretending he didn’t want you to be.

The break room hums with its usual early morning lethargy: old fluorescent lights, the low gurgle of the coffee machine, and the faint buzz of detectives pretending they weren’t just five minutes late.

Inside, it’s domestic bliss disguised as routine.

Jungkook stands to the left of the counter, pouring two coffees with practiced precision. You’re beside him, already reaching into the drawer for the exact number of sugar packets he likes—two raw sugar, one white. Without a word, he passes your mug as you slide his forward. Then, in sync, you open the mini fridge. He grabs the oat milk, you grab the cream.

By the time either of you blinks, the mugs are stirred, sleeves are rolled, and you’re leaning shoulder to shoulder sipping like it’s any other day.

Which it’s not.

Because outside the break room door, Taehyung and Jimin are silently watching like it’s a wildlife documentary.

Taehyung squints. “Did… did you see that? She just handed him his coffee before he even asked.”

“They moved like a machine,” Jimin murmurs, horrified and fascinated. “Like a married couple. A murdery married couple.”

Taehyung nods solemnly. “That was synchronized caffeine choreography.”

Just then, Hoseok walks past them holding a case file.

He pauses when he sees their faces.

“What are you two doing?”

Jimin jerks a thumb toward the glass. “Bro. They’ve been married this whole time and just forgot to mention it.”

Taehyung adds, “We think there was a secret wedding. Probably in the evidence room. I bet Yoongi officiated.”

“I’m a licensed officiant, actually,” Yoongi says flatly—from inside the break room, seated at the corner table, where no one saw him appear. He sips his tea. “But I didn’t. Not yet.”

Hoseok groans. “Oh my god.”

He pushes the door open, stepping in like a man accepting his fate.

“You two done with your morning honeymoon phase?” he asks.

You and Jungkook break apart half a step—barely—but Jungkook’s grin doesn’t fade.

“Just getting our daily dose of caffeine, Sergeant,” you chirp, smiling.

“Uh-huh.” Hoseok slaps the file down. “String of break-ins at Sweet Dreams Bakery over on 6th. Someone’s targeting their delivery shipments. Small stuff—ingredients, flour, icing—but consistently. And the owners are freaked.”

Jungkook leans in. “Sounds like a stakeout opportunity.”

“I already told the owner you’d be posing as a couple ordering a wedding cake,” Hoseok says, smirking. “Didn’t have to ask. I’ve seen the chemistry.”

Jungkook raises a brow, looking at you. “We don’t know if Y/N can act the same way about me, though.”

You scoff, but he’s already turning toward the peanut gallery.

“We need to test it,” he says. “Make sure she can handle it.”

Jimin perks up immediately. “I SECOND THAT.”

“I THIRD IT,” Taehyung adds, barging in with a granola bar and chaotic energy.

Yoongi, without even blinking: “I don’t know what we’re voting on, but I fourth it.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Ask your stupid questions.”

Taehyung gasps. “Rapid fire? Please say rapid fire.”

“Rapid fire,” Jimin confirms, pulling out a chair and spinning it around like he’s about to interrogate you for espionage.

Jungkook crosses his arms, fighting a smirk. You can feel his smugness radiating off him.

“Alright,” Jimin says. “What’s his favorite food?”

“Spicy pork bulgogi,” you shoot back without blinking. “From that cart near the courthouse. Not the one with the blue awning—the red one. He says the blue one smells like feet.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot up. “You remembered that?”

You ignore him.

Taehyung slides in next. “Favorite movie?”

“Mad Max: Fury Road. He says it’s the perfect ratio of action, cinematography, and metaphorical loneliness.”

Even Yoongi lifts an eyebrow.

Jimin’s turn again: “Okay, what does he do when he’s nervous?”

You pause—but only for half a second. “He tugs at his ear. But not the lobe—the cartilage.”

Jungkook stares at you like he’s trying not to explode.

Taehyung leans dramatically across the table. “Do you think he’s hot?”

You blink. The room stills.

“I think…” You look at Jungkook slowly, lips curling. “I think he thinks he’s hot.”

The room loses it. Tae slaps the table, Jimin wheezes, and Jungkook scoffs like he’s not turning red.

Just when you think it’s over, Yoongi—mysteriously already seated with a pastry no one saw him grab—clears his throat.

Everyone goes quiet because when Yoongi speaks, it’s usually important or unhinged. Could go either way.

“How does he make you feel loved and appreciated?”

The question hangs. Heavy. Unexpected.

Jungkook blinks. You blink. No one's laughing now.

You should deflect. Make a joke. Say “he doesn’t.” But you don’t.

You look down, then back at Jungkook—who for once doesn’t look cocky or smug. Just quiet.

You answer honestly.

“When he’s not trying so hard.”

Your voice is calm, but sincere. “When he makes my coffee just the way I like it without asking. When he lets me take the lead without needing to be right. When he backs me up in front of other people, even if he disagrees.”

You shrug lightly, like you’re not admitting something raw. “He doesn’t make a big deal out of it. But those little things? That’s when I feel it.”

The silence in the room is stunned. Jin exhales like he just watched a proposal.

Yoongi hums, nodding like that’ll do.

Taehyung clutches his chest. “That was so romantic I might throw up.”

Jungkook however hasn’t looked away from you once. He’s staring like he’s never really seen you before.

Hoseok, already walking out, calls behind him, “Just please get the bust. I can’t emotionally survive another briefing like this.”

Jungkook steps beside you as the rest of the squad filters out.

“Just so you know,” he murmurs, “you’re terrible at pretending.”

“Please,” you smirk. “You live for this.”

The bakery was cute in a Pinterest-pink kind of way. The kind of place you’d never expect to be the center of a string of break-ins. But as you and Jungkook stepped through the doors, it was clear someone had their eye on more than just cupcakes.

You were greeted first by Lydia—the manager. Early 40s, sharp-eyed, and clearly stressed. She greeted you with a polite, forced smile, fiddling with the end of her apron.

“Thank you both for coming,” she said, motioning to the counter. “I’ve already told the officers who were here yesterday, but I don’t know who’s targeting us. We’ve been hit three times now, always at night, always at the back door.”

“Did anything new go missing last time?” Jungkook asked, already scanning the space.

“Just money from the safe and a few ingredients. High-end stuff—like Madagascar vanilla and imported almond flour. Strange choices for thieves, right?”

You nodded. “Any disgruntled employees?”

Lydia looked hesitant. “We had one girl quit recently… but I can’t imagine her doing this.”

You exchanged a quick look with Jungkook. Nothing concrete—but enough to keep probing.

That’s when Gloria swooped in.

Lydia excused herself to the back and you suddenly found yourself being all but tackled by a whirlwind of floral perfume and rhinestone earrings.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, dramatically flustered. “Are you the couple?”

You froze. Jungkook blinked. “Couple?”

“Oh! Lydia told me someone was coming to do a cake tasting for a wedding package.”

Before either of you could object, Gloria had already sat you both down at a small table near the window and whipped out a tasting tray.

Gloria beams. “Sit down—sit down, I’ll bring out some samples. What’s your flavor profile?”

“Chocolate,” Jungkook says quickly.

“Red velvet,” you say at the same time.

You both pause. Look at each other.

Gloria squints with glee. “Ooh. Lovers with opinions. My favorite kind.”

You raise an eyebrow at Jungkook. “Chocolate? Really?”

He shrugs. “What? It’s the best. Yours is just chocolate with red dye 40.”

“It’s amazing,” you argue, 

“It’s a classic,” Jungkook replies, smirking. “Not pretending to be fancy like yours.”

You huff. “The dye adds to the experience.”

Gloria places a tray in front of you, but she’s far from done. She leans on the counter, eyes sparkling. “Okay, lovebirds. I gotta know—what’s your favorite thing about each other?”

You shoot Jungkook a look. His jaw clenches slightly. His thumb brushes over your knuckles once. Dangerous.

“I’ll go first,” you offer, leaning back like you’re not having a cardiac event. “He’s competitive. Borderline obsessed with being the best. It’s annoying, but… admirable.”

His gaze flicks to you, just for a second. Something soft tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“She,” he begins, a little too careful, “she surprises me. Every damn day. She’s smarter than me. Better at keeping her cool. And she puts up with me—so that’s... impressive.”

Your heart stutters. Gloria gives a loud, pleased “Aha!” and claps.

“You two are adorable. I love it.”

You both laugh, but it feels loaded now. Like the air is suddenly too warm.

As Gloria returns to grab more cake slices, Jungkook leans in a little. Close enough for only you to hear.

“Red velvet? Really?”

You nod, smug. “Yup. Addicting, rich, and a little dramatic. Just like me.”

He chuckles low in his throat. “So basically, the perfect cake for you.”

Gloria returns to the table with a new tray of miniature cakes and a mischievous glint in her eye. She sets it down like she’s just laid the groundwork for emotional warfare.

“Alright, now while those settle on your tastebuds, tell me everything who proposed?”

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook opens his mouth. Closes it.

You clear your throat. “He did. It was… spontaneous.”

“Ohhh, I love spontaneous,” Gloria swoons. “What’d you say? Something romantic and dumb, I bet.”

“Definitely dumb,” you mutter under your breath.

Jungkook lifts his chin, playing along. “I said… ‘Marry me before someone else realizes how out of my league you are.’”

Gloria gasps, hand flying to her mouth. “Shut. Up. If a man said that to me I’d be pregnant in fifteen minutes.”

You choke on your bite of lemon cake. Jungkook coughs violently.

Gloria just keeps going. “Any kids on the horizon?”

“Wh—what?” you sputter.

“I’m just saying!” she shrugs, like she didn’t just drop an intimacy nuke. “You two got good genes. Strong jaws, symmetrical faces. Imagine the cheekbones on your babies.”

You make a strangled noise. Jungkook looks like he’s buffering.

Gloria leans in with a wink. “And honey, not to be inappropriate—but if you don’t lock this one down…” She eyes Jungkook with an approving once-over. “I might.”

“Okay!” you say a little too loudly, cheeks blazing. “We’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

Jungkook shifts next to you, lips twitching. He leans closer, his voice low and smug.

“Are you jealous?”

You smile sweetly. “Of what? Your future with Gloria?”

He laughs, tilting his head as if to say touché.

Gloria smiles, wiping away a dramatic tear. “I swear, if my Harold had looked at me even half the way you two look at each other, we wouldn’t have needed six rounds of couples therapy.”

Jungkook choked on a laugh, and you gave her a wide-eyed smile. “We’ll try to beat that record.”

She winked and tapped her perfectly manicured nail against Jungkook’s bicep. “And you. Don’t mess this up. That girl’s a catch. Lock it down.”

He raised his hands innocently. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll give you two lovebirds a moment alone with the cakes. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Gloria finally stands, humming to herself as she walks back to the counter, satisfied. 

You were still catching your breath when Jungkook leaned in and whispered, “That woman is a menace.”

“She’s a national treasure.”

You reached for a fork of cake—red velvet, of course—and were mid-bite when the back door creaked.

You both paused.

Jungkook set his fork down silently, already on alert. “You hear that?”

You nodded. “Lydia’s supposed to be the only one back there.”

Your eyes met. And just like that, the cake was forgotten.

You slipped out of your chairs as silently as possible, weaving between pastry cases toward the swinging door. Jungkook motioned for you to go left while he went right, circling around the back entrance.

There—two figures in dark hoodies near the back office.

They were moving fast. One was cracking open a supply cabinet while the other knelt by a safe.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“Police!” he barked, pulling out his badge. “Hands where I can see them!”

The two intruders bolted. One shoved a tray off a counter, scattering flour and pans across the tiled floor. You dodged the mess, sprinting after the one heading for the side door.

“Stop!” you shouted. “You’re under arrest!”

Jungkook was already hot on the other’s heels, and for a moment, it was like clockwork again—the perfect sync. You ducked through a narrow hallway and tackled your suspect just before they reached the alley. Jungkook swept in a second later, pinning his to the wall with controlled force.

“You have the right to remain silent,” he said, breathless but focused. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

You caught your breath, glancing over at him.

Jungkook glanced back at you at the exact same moment.

A second of stunned silence passed—then you both smirked.

“Still think I can’t act like I’m in love with you?” you asked, a little too smug.

He rolled his eyes, but that twitch in his mouth gave him away. “It’s honestly scarier how natural it is.”

One perp down. One had gotten away.

And you both knew what that meant.

Stakeout time.

After Gloria’s bakery interrogation and one wild chase that ended with two out of three suspects in custody, the case had narrowed down to Stacy Park—former bakery employee turned prime suspect.

Turns out, being fired for “aggressively upselling lemon bars” wasn’t Stacy’s only grievance. She’d helped close up shop for almost a year, knew the safe’s schedule, and had a grudge about being replaced by a newer, friendlier barista with “softer energy,” as Gloria put it. Stacy disappeared right after the robbery—two nights ago.

Now, you and Jungkook were parked across the street from Stacy’s ex-boyfriend’s apartment. Her car hadn’t moved. And if she was hiding, she’d come back for something. People always did.

The windows were cracked, letting in a breeze heavy with street tacos and city grit. Jungkook passed you a half-melted candy bar and leaned back in his seat like he’d done this a hundred times—which he had.

“Tell me you brought real snacks,” you said, eyeing the gas station bag.

“Trail mix and vibes,” he replied, tossing you a crinkled protein bar.

You made a face. “Wow. Romance is alive and well.”

He laughed under his breath, eyes still on the street. “You wanted to play house with me. This is what that gets you.”

“You didn’t even bring hot Cheetos.”

“You’re lucky I brought myself.”

You snorted and bit into the protein bar anyway. “Alright, if I’m going to be stuck with you for possibly the next eight hours, we’re playing a game.”

He turned to you with a raised brow. “Please say this is strip Go Fish.”

You threw the wrapper at his face. “You wish! Emotional roulette. I ask you a question, you ask me one.”

He groaned dramatically but didn’t say no. “Fine. Go ahead.”

You leaned your head back against the seat and thought for a second. “What’s your biggest red flag?”

He smirked. “You mean besides the arrogance?”

You laughed. “No, I mean like something a therapist would make you unpack.”

He hesitated just a beat too long. Then shrugged. “I shut down when things feel too real.”

You nodded slowly, not expecting honesty. “You mean like… emotionally?”

“Yeah. Or when someone gets too close too fast. I ghost. Or I get mean. Push them away before they can see too much.”

You didn’t respond right away. “That’s very self-aware.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

You smiled softly. “Okay, your turn.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed in thought. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone in this precinct?”

You blinked. “Damn, you really went for the jugular.”

He waited.

You exhaled. “Okay. I applied to this job because I wanted to prove I was better than someone who told me I couldn’t do it.”

Jungkook’s eyes didn’t leave yours. “Who was it?”

You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

He tilted his head. “You’re allowed to have your reasons, you know. Even the petty ones.”

“That sounds like something someone with a Party City crown would say.”

He smiled—genuine, soft. You found yourself smiling back. The car felt smaller now.

Another pause.

“Okay,” you said. “Next question.”

“Of course.”

You thought for a second. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

He blinked. Didn’t expect that one.

Then he shrugged. “I think people are compatible. Some more than others. But like… magic? Destiny?” He shook his head. “Not everyone gets a fairytale.”

There was a heaviness to it. A flicker of something behind his words. You watched his jaw tick before he looked away, pretending to fiddle with the A/C dial.

You turned your body to face him slightly. “Are you always this cynical?”

“Not always.” His voice was quieter now. “Just… realistic.”

You softened, your voice gentler. “Have you ever been in love?”

He let out a single dry laugh. “Define love.”

“That thing where you’d rather fight someone than admit you’re scared of liking them.”

He gave you a look. “Sounds oddly specific.”

You smirked. “I’m very wise.”

He leaned his head back against the seat, looking at you now with that unreadable expression again—part frustration, part wonder. “What about you?” he asked. “You believe in that stuff?”

You nodded. “I don’t know. I want to. Even if it’s messy.”

You said it softly. Like it mattered.

The silence grew thick. Not awkward. Just… charged.

And without even realizing it, you were leaning in. So was he. Slowly. Deliberately. Like something invisible was pulling you both closer.

He was so close now you could see the golden flecks in his eyes. Your breath hitched just slightly—

And then he pulled back.

“Target spotted,” he muttered.

You blinked, dazed. “Huh?”

He nodded toward the building across the street. “Stacy Park. That’s her.”

You turned quickly, pulse still buzzing, to see her slipping through the back alley gate.

Jungkook was already grabbing the radio.

The moment shattered. But it left a crack.

And you weren’t sure either of you would be able to seal it again.

You stepped into the precinct with a bounce in your step and the ghost of a proud smile tugging at your lips. Yesterday’s case? Nailed. Arrest? Clean. Teamwork with Jungkook? Shockingly smooth.

Namjoon was already in the bullpen, mug in one hand, file in the other. As you approached, he gave you a nod that felt heavier than gold.

“Nice work yesterday, Detective L/N,” he said. “That was solid policing. Efficient, thorough, and minimal property damage. I’m impressed.”

You beamed, standing a little taller. “Thank you, sir.”

The praise should’ve rolled right off Jungkook’s back. But something about the way your eyes lit up under Namjoon’s compliment made his jaw tick ever so slightly. He forced a breath through his nose and looked away like the fluorescent lights were suddenly fascinating.

You sauntered off toward the file room, and the moment you were out of earshot, Taehyung and Jimin descended like vultures on fresh roadkill.

“Uh oh,” Jimin grinned. “Captain complimented your girl.”

“She’s not—” Jungkook started.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung said, plopping into Jungkook’s chair like he owned it. “Every couple hits a rough patch. Just didn’t think it’d be over Namjoon.”

“I’m not jealous of Namjoon.”

Jimin crossed his arms. “You literally flinched when she smiled at him.”

“I didn’t flinch. I blinked.”

“Emotionally,” Taehyung said. “You flinched emotionally.”

“It’s too early for this.”

“Too early in the marriage for problems,” Jimin added. “Damn.”

Jungkook rubbed his face. “You two are insufferable.”

Taehyung leaned back. “You brought this on yourself. We’ve been so good lately.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “I just think it’s weird how she always lights up when he says something. But I say something nice and she thinks I’m being sarcastic—”

And that’s when you walked back into the room.

You stopped, narrowing your eyes. “What about me?”

Jungkook’s head jerked up. “What?”

“You just said something about me. You said I always ‘light up’ for Namjoon.”

He blinked. “Did I say that out loud?”

“You did,” Jimin chimed in, delighted.

“Loud and clear,” Taehyung added, smug.

Jungkook groaned and shifted in his chair. “I was just saying—you light up, but in a good lamp kind of way.”

You squinted at him. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m always weird,” he deflected, grabbing for the nearest file like it was a life raft. “Don’t make plans tonight.”

You blinked. “Why?”

He didn’t even look up. “You’ll see.”

You arrive first.

Of course you do. You’ve been nervously checking the time every five minutes for the last hour.

The bar is dimly lit and familiar, a post-shift sanctuary for the 7th Precinct. Tonight, though, you feel like a lamb walking into a trap. You spot Jimin and Taehyung immediately, already smirking in your direction. Jin’s ordering a round. Hoseok’s nursing something suspiciously fruity in a rocks glass. Even Yoongi is here, which is both terrifying and comforting in its rarity.

You don’t see Jungkook.

Until you do.

He walks in ten minutes late with that signature smug grin, holding something behind his back. You narrow your eyes.

“Glad you showed,” you say, arms crossed. “Was starting to think you bailed on your own victory lap.”

“I’d never miss the chance to humiliate you,” he says cheerfully, then reveals the monstrosity behind his back.

A sash. It says Kookie’s Date – Please Be Nice To Her, She Lost a Bet.

In glitter.

You blink. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope. Arms up.”

Reluctantly, you let him drape it over you. The whole squad erupts. Jimin is literally crying from laughter. Taehyung’s recording. Yoongi mutters something about getting hazard pay.

Namjoon, standing in the corner with a beer, raises his glass in mock sympathy. “Tough break, L/N.”

You endure it with dignity. Mostly.

And then he begins. Loudly.

“So,” he says, clapping his hands together. “First up on our itinerary: Medieval Times!”

You blink. “The dinner show with knights and horses?”

Jungkook grins. “Yup. You’ll be wearing a corset and a paper crown. I’ll be wearing armor. I may or may not demand to joust for your honor.”

The table loses it. Jimin is nearly doubled over. Taehyung is already Googling local jousting shows.

Jin raises his beer. “This is already my favorite date you’ve ever had.”

“Then,” Jungkook continues, “we head to karaoke. But not just any karaoke. Disney karaoke. Couples duet required. Bonus points if one of us cries during ‘A Whole New World.’”

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled. “That’s actually so romantic.”

Hoseok is wheezing. “Please tell me there’s more.”

“Oh, absolutely. Third stop: Build-A-Bear. We’re making matching plushies. Mine’s a frog prince. Hers is… undetermined. But it has to wear matching heart boxers.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

“And finally,” he says, drawing it out like a showman, “we end the evening at a haunted corn maze. With one flashlight between us. Because what’s romance without terror?”

Namjoon sips his drink from across the room. “That actually sounds kind of fun.”

“And, don’t worry,” Jungkook says, winking. “You’ll be getting plenty of updates. Every cheesy, horrifying moment will be documented for posterity.”

You glare at him. “You’re evil.”

He leans closer, smiles wide. “Only to you, sweetheart.”

But when you step outside with Jungkook, ready to throat-punch him into next week, he turns toward you and gently slips the sash off.

“Okay, but none of that was real.”

You blink. “What?”

“The bit. The sash. The crowd. That was just for fun.”

You squint. “So what is real?”

He doesn’t answer. Just takes your hand. Warm, steady. It shuts down every protest in your throat.

“C’mon,” he says. “I’ve got one more surprise.”

You follow him in confused silence, winding through a quiet trail until you hit the riverwalk. And there—under the stars, beside the rippling water—is a blanket, a tiny Bluetooth speaker playing some random pop playlist, and a picnic basket.

You stare. “You picnic’d me?”

He shrugs. “I’m full of surprises.”

Inside the basket: snacks. Juice boxes. A sad charcuterie attempt. And… a bracelet-making kit?

You glance at him, horrified. “You want me to make you jewelry?”

“Yeah. I want proof that you were here.”

Despite yourself, you snort. “Fine. But I hope you like clashing beads and creative spelling.”

It’s dumb and fun and you’re both awful at it. Your bracelet for him says “JEON <3 CHAOS” in neon colors. His for you reads “NOTADATE” in crooked letters, with purple and green beads battling for aesthetic dominance.

“This is ugly,” you declare, inspecting the jumbled mess on your wrist.

Jungkook laughs softly, “Mine looks like it was made by a sleep-deprived toddler.”

“Maybe it’s fitting,” you say, “we’re both disasters.”

He glances at you. “Speak for yourself. I’m just chaotic.”

You smile, but there’s something quiet settling over both of you — a rare, rare stillness.

He nudges a bead toward you with the tip of his finger. It’s a tiny silver star. “You picked red velvet cake. That was unexpected.”

You look at him, amused. “You’re still on that? It’s my favorite.”

“I figured,” he says. “It suits you. Bold. Dramatic. Slightly dangerous.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a lot for a dessert.”

He shrugs, gaze on his bracelet. “So’s the person eating it.”

A beat.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little lower now. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

“What made you say it?”

“Say what?”

“That you don’t date cops.”

You hesitate. “It’s… a rule I made for myself. I’ve seen it go badly. Power dynamics, ego, people not being able to separate work from… everything else.”

Jungkook hums.

“I’m not trying to break your rules,” he says carefully.

“I know,” you answer.

The moment stretches.

Jungkook tilts toward you slowly, and this time—this time you think maybe—

But he presses a kiss to your cheek instead. Soft. Warm. Stupidly tender.

“I know you don’t date cops,” he murmurs. “So I hope this fake date was up to standard.”

Your brain short-circuits. “I—what? I—yeah. I mean. I guess. Totally standard.”

You immediately want to eat your own foot.

Jungkook just grins, leaning back on his hands, like he didn’t just knock the air out of your lungs.

You look down at your terrible bracelet and can’t help but smile.

GROUP CHAT: “7th Precinct (Except Namjoon)”

Jimin: okay it’s been 2 hours Has anyone heard from them?? should we call 911 or

Taehyung: plot twist: they got lost in a corn maze except there’s no corn maze so this is very concerning

Jin: my theory: jungkook rented a hot air balloon but forgot he’s scared of heights they’re just… up there now. floating. in silence.

Yoongi: they’re probably staring at each other and breathing dramatically

Jimin:LMAO NOT THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS BREATHING

Taehyung:💀 they’re 100% doing the “accidentally touched hands” thing rn

Jin: or worse. he’s reciting poetry. someone save my ex wife!!!

[softhaes]

Can I request something? Where Jungkook is reader's son's best friend. And Jungkook is utterly obsessed with his friend's mother?

you know what, hell yeah why not?? kinda like mommy issues jungkook but more unhinged

m.i.l.f

"there are HOT MILFS in your area waiting for YOU to FUCK THEM!" the ad said, though jungkook wasn't expecting to come face to face with you; who also happens to be his best friends mother. @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @momnomnom @investedreader

part 2

word count: 4.338

warning: age up reader, smut, dirty talk, jungkook likes milfs ofc, yandere tendancies, blackmail, mommy kink omg, fingering, oral sex, nipple sucking, reader also enjoys being called mommy wtf, praise kink, dub-con, dry humping, titty, fucking, jungkook likes to be called a good boy lmao, squirting, orgasm, unprotected sex, ass-slapping, masterbation, impregnation kink,

“You don’t have to wash those, Jungkook.” you say as you walk into the kitchen. Your brows furrowed at Jungkook, who was a guest in your home at that, “That’s what my son should be doing.” you let out a snort. “And you’re also a guest!”

Jungkook turns towards you and offers a curt smile. “I don’t mind, really.” he says honestly. “It’s the least I can do as a thank you for allowing me to stay for break.”

Spring break was only 2 weeks and Jungkook had no intentions of going back home for a short amount of time. He settled into his college life greatly and the years he’s attended, he can say it has been a wild ride. Meeting your son, his best friend, and also his roommate was one.

“Besides, Dash isn’t here. He said he had some type of date.”

Dash wasn’t your son's real name, but a nickname given to him while in High School that stuck all the way through college. Upon hearing Jungkook’s words you let out a soft sigh and a shake of your head. It seemed as Dash couldn’t be bothered to hang out with his friend that he invited over for Spring break.

“Still, no washing dishes!” you say, going over to turn the water off with a stern look. “You’re still a guest in our home, Jungkook. I ordered pizza thinking you and Dash would be here.”

Jungkook recalls the first time he met you many years ago. It was move-in day and you’ve made it your mission to clean the bedroom and shared bathroom from top to bottom until it was sparkling. 

What Jungkook had immediately noticed - after the newly decorated bedroom with a large television, a mini fridge in the corner already full of snacks that you encouraged him to take - was how young you were. At first glance, he thought you were Dash’s older sister until you kissed his forehead, an action he groaned about.

“She was a teen mom.” Dash explained without Jungkook having to ask. He did that a lot throughout his life, even now. “Apparently she wants me to have what she didn’t.”

You were genuinely kind and always managed to include Jungkook in whatever. At times, even, Jungkook would grow annoyed with how Dash always appeared to blow you off to do whatever else and yet, you wouldn’t be angered or upset. Maybe it was because Dash was your only child that you grew up alongside.

Jungkook dries his hands with a few paper towels as you wipe the counters of any spilled water. He takes in your attire. It’s evening, but you’re already dressed for bed, a silk nightgown that stops at your thighs with a matching silk robe tied lazily around your figure. He knows you aren’t dressed to sleep - you stay up during the night and binge watch tv or read.

“Are you taking any shifts at the studio this week?” you ask to make conversation. “I know Dash said you and him switched shifts. That boy…” you let out a sigh. “...don’t let him play you, Jungkook!”

“I’m not.” Jungkook cracks a grin. “I can use the extra hours.” A lie.

“Aren’t you already interning, as well? When do you sleep?”

Your concerned mother act was activated now and Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. He sniffles a bit, turning his eyes away. 

“Well, it’s just you and me until Dash decides to come home.” you state. “The pizza should be here in around half an hour. Do you have anything planned for tonight?”

Jungkook’s eyes cut to you. You’re taken back a bit by the sudden stare that your smile falters for a mere moment. Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at Jungkook.

“Jung-”

“Do you have anything planned?” Jungkook questions. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s leaning only slightly against the counter. “With…anyone?”

You swallow underneath his hard gaze. The tone changes entirely and you’re far too appalled to answer his question.

“I don’t…I-I-” you shake your head a bit, flustered. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook tilts his head. He gives you another once over before meeting your eyes once more.  “Can I show you something?”

You blink a few times before nodding your head.

Jungkook goes through his pants pockets and takes out his phone. It takes him a minute to find what he does, but when he flashes the screen towards you, your face goes pale. Your heart thumps in your chest and you swear your blood is growing warmer and warmer with embarrassment.

It’s you, of course, and you know exactly what it is.

‘Hot Milf’s Near You’ it says, a picture of your naked body on display. It’s your own account and with the amount of detail that’s displayed, you already know he’s gone through it entirely.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. You didn’t want this to ever come to light. The site was legit, but not well known enough for anyone you know to find it. There’s countless other sites that you avoided due to their popularity.

“Jungkook-”

“Is this a casual hookup site?” Jungkook interrupts. 

Jungkook had never heard of the site until a few weeks back. He had been watching porn when the usually pop-up site came up. He’s never bothered to click the “hot milfs in your area that wants to fuck you” before but this time he was curious to see if it was even real. He wasn’t expecting to go down a rabbit hole of profiles - you being one of them.

“Yes.” your teeth grits. This conversation you truly didn’t want to have with Jungkook. 

“You hookup with…younger guys?” Jungkook locks his phone and places it on the counter. 

Your heart races and your eyes widen. “I-I..they’re not all young!”  you stammer. You didn’t need Jungkook thinking you were some cougar who wanted younger guys. “I just-”

Jungkook knows they aren't all young - he's done his thorough research as soon as he found your profile.

“Your profile says you want someone who could satisfy you.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy on you, yet you’re unsure why you haven’t walked away yet. This wasn’t his business. You were a grown woman who wasn’t doing anything wrong and-

“I want to be the one to satisfy you.”

Oh.

You’re entirely still, unblinking. Your breathing even hitches and you’re truly astonished. The only reason you’re brought back down to reality was when Jungkook steps closer to you, making an entirely bold move that jolts you back to life.

“I do like you as my friend's mother.” 

Jungkook’s hand presses itself right between your legs, the night-gown giving him perfect access to your clothed pussy. You gasp at the boldness he displays. This was the same shy and soft spoken boy you met at the age of 18. Only, he wasn’t 18 anymore and Dash and him were nearly out of college. He was a man now in his 20’s and fully aware of what he wanted. 

“And I do respect you as such but…”

Jungkook licks his lips, his fingers twirling around your clothed clit.

“...I can tell you want to keep this profile a secret. You don’t want Dash to know you enjoy getting fucked by young guys, right?” Jungkook’s finger picks up the pace and your teeth sink down on your bottom lip. Why haven’t you pushed him away yet?

“I don’t think he’d be happy to find out that his mother’s a whore.” Jungkook cups your pussy entirely, licking his lips as his dark eyes look towards you. It’s as if a switch flipped and he was someone else. A darker person. His eyes aren’t the doe ones you adored, but appeared of that of a siren. “I can keep that secret for you…for a price, of course.”

Jungkook was blackmailing you.

Your son’s friend was blackmailing you - the same kind hearted friend you encourage your son to be like.

Why did the action make your pussy throb with such need you never knew you had for him?

“Let’s see…”

Jungkook’s hand digs into your panties. His fingers slide between your holds and twirls along your clit. A surprised yelp escapes your lips as his fingers immediately work. He isn’t being mindful in the slightest, digits aggressively attacking the sensitive bud.

Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you’re unable to contain the moan. Your pussy is leaking in his palms and you’re standing like an idiot and allowing him to.

“Let’s see how tight you are.”

Jungkook’s free hand grasps your ass to keep you in place while his occupied fingers begin to invade your walls. Your hands grasp Jungkook’s shirt for support as his fingers pump into you possessively. The crude act has you squealing with hot embarrassment at something so forbidden. Your son could return any minute now and yet…

“You’re pussy’s so wet, mommy.”

If being called mommy bothered you, you didn’t show it. If anything, your pussy immediately goes to clench around Jungkook’s fingers. It’s a sign that he knows what he’s doing, you’re enjoying more than you want to admit.

“You like being called mommy, don’t you?” Jungkook hums, drilling his fingers even harder into  you. “You’re drenched right now, mommy.”

“Jung…Kook,” you stammer, clenching his shirt even tighter. What in the world were you allowing him to do? This was wrong in many ways and-

Jungkook removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to his lips. He sucks onto them, dark lustful eyes on you. 

“Jungkook…we…I don’t think…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Jungkook murmurs. “Besides, you don’t really want me to stop, mommy. You’re not fighting me at all.”

Jungkook goes towards your breast next. His hands are quick in snatching the gown down to reveal erect nipples. He groans at the sight of them, mouth watering. He dives right to them, wrapping his mouth around one nipple with his hand twists the other. “I’ve wanted to suck on them for so long, mommy.” As long as he can remember, he thinks, maybe even back when he first witnessed you naked and cumming against your vibrator.

You don’t know that he watched you, though - and he won’t tell you.

“Y-Yeah?”

You mentally curse yourself for entertaining this, but Jungkook wasn’t making it easy. He was an attractive man who quite literally wasn’t going to take no for an answer - and you had yet to push him away from you. 

But this was sick - right? Jungkook was your son's best friend and roommate. You’ve known him since he was fresh out of highschool and into college. Hell, you even washed his clothes a few times alongside Dash’s but yet…

A sick satisfaction goes through you as Jungkook holds you close and suckles onto your breast, one that you were going to regret feeling once this was all over.

A hand placed behind Jungkook's head, fingers tangling in his dark tresses. Jungkook looks up at you, for a moment those familiar doe-like eyes make their appearance.

“You can suck on them now, Kookie.” you say in a soft voice that has Jungkook sucking even harder, his other hand squeezing your free breast. “I-I won’t stop you.”

This was wrong. You shouldn’t be entertaining this - obviously Jungkook was a man with his own issues but yet, here you were. With your own issues that you were allowing it to unfold.

“Thank you, mommy.” Jungkook says as he dives to the other breast and captures your nipple. 

You ponder if you were a perverse person for enjoying this with Jungkook. He made it very clear that he had no true intentions of stopping but there’s that sick side of you that didn’t want him to regardless. 

Your body is pushed against the kitchen island until you’re hoisted up onto it, back against the cold surface. Jungkook's large hands engulfs both of your breasts, coming up from your breast to place a kiss against your lips. You yelp at the action, but can you truly be surprised? 

Jungkook doesn’t dwell on your lips, however. He goes back to your breast, suckling and tugging your perky nipples while his hands continue to rub and squeeze.

Jungkook’s cock is hard and he presses it right against your clothed clit, hips jutting as he continues to suckle onto your nipples.

You cannot help but moan, your hand rubbing Jungkook’s head encouragingly. “You love to suck mommy’s breast, don’t you?”

Jungkook’s breathing hitches, his eyes flickering to yours. He nods hastily, suckling even harder. His hips continue to jut, rubbing against your clit so heavenly that you can feel just how soaked you were becoming. 

Jungkook continues to suck harder and harder, his mind wandering to the countless times his mouth would salivate at just the thought of doing this. Especially after finding your profile with dozens of naked pictures of yourself. He recalls the time he jacked off to your breast alone, cumming all over himself at the thought of suckling on them like he was doing now.

“Mommy,” Jungkook lets your nipple out with a pop, a string of saliva dripping from his lips. “can I fuck your tits?”

Your eyes widened, your clit growing even wetter.

“Not here.” you say to Jungkook. You were going to regret this, surely, when you came back to your senses. 

Leading Jungkook to your bedroom was all too surreal. But dropping yourself to your bed while the man removes his pants is far too real. His cock springs out, pretty, veiny and pink. It’s dripping with pre-cum already and you almost coo at how cute he looks.

You lay on the edge of your bed, breast pressed together. “Don’t be shy now, Kookie.”

Jungkook gasps low, stepping forward so that he can place his cock against your breast. But before he can, your hand wraps around it and you bring him into your mouth.

Jungkook shudders at how wet and warm your mouth is as you suckle onto his cock. It blows his mind and he finds that he never wants this to end.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your mouth and lick your lips. “You can fuck mommy’s tits now.” you hum.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” Jungkook’s cheeks are red as he obeys you. He presses his cock right between your breasts and you press them together. 

“Can as hard as you want, okay?” you smile sweetly.

Jungkook complies, immediately rutting his hips. You never would’ve thought that you would find this hot - or maybe it was Jungkook. Younger men had more stamina and Jungkook doesn’t seem to be tired anytime soon.

Jungkook’s thumbs twist at your nipples as he fucks your tits, a groan coming from his lips. “You’re so hot, mommy. I wanted you for so long.”

Your eyes watch the way Jungkook’s cock slides between your breasts with such need, your pussy clenching around nothing. Your already crude mind is pondering how good he’d be able to fuck you with such stamina and strength that you cannot help but squeal.

“You like me fucking your tits, mommy?” Jungkook asks, chuckling a bit. “Or are you thinking about me fucking something else?”

Jungkook was co complex. One instant he could be so vulnerable and soft eyed and then there’s the switch. His voice would deepen, his eyes darken and he would speak like he was now.

Jungkook’s right hand lifts from your nipples to connect with your neck. He tightens it, continuing to pump his wet cock between your breasts. 

“I think you like the way I’m fucking your tits, mommy. You’re so slutty.” Jungkook sing-song such dirty words. “From now on, you don’t need to find anyone else to fuck you, okay? I’m all you need, mommy.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to think about you going elsewhere - to someone his age. They didn’t deserve to fuck you. They didn’t put in the work like he had  with making a great impression and getting you to like him.

“All for you, Kookie.” you nod your head the best way you could with his hand around your neck. “Are you going to cum for mommy?”

Jungkook shudders and rapidly nods his head. His hand tightens around your neck, your moans increasing as does his. He juts his cock between your breast back and forth and back and forth and-

“Fuck, mommy, I’m gonna cum all over you.” Jungkook’s body shakes, releasing a sputter of swear words.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over mommy’s tits like a good boy.”

There was no way you and Jungkook were going back to normal after this - not after he’s called you mommy and you called him a good boy.

Jungkook cums all over your breast, cum going as far as to splatter across your cheeks. 

Jungkook sighs, eyes fluttering with how hard he’s cum. He always cum the hardest when it comes to you, and now it’s because of you and not your pictures.

“I’m going to make you cum next, mommy!”

You don’t have time to process because Jungkook’s already on his knees and bringing you closer to him. Your panties are ripped from your core and Jungkook’s already face to face with it. 

Jungkook enjoys eating you out; genuinely. His tongue licks between your folds generously, moaning and groaning against your cunt without coming up for air. He’s completely insatiable when it comes to you, never wanting to tear himself away.

“Kookie…slow down!” you gasp, hands grasping your breast.

Jungkook ignores you entirely, continuing to suckle onto your clit. You watch him with wide eyes, completely in awe. You aren’t sure you’ve ever had anyone eat you with such necessity like Jungkook was.

Jungkook’s head begins to bob back and forth, his hand reaching up towards your hole. You’re wet enough that he slides in three fingers, pumping them in and out feverishly.

You’re squealing loudly with each pump of Jungkook’s fingers, unsure if you were going to last with both his tongue and fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut, breath catching in your throat. He was truly a man starved, determined to have you cum by any means necessary.

The more Jungkook’s long fingers fuck you, the more your mind becomes fuzzy. 

Jungkook is astonished by how wet you are, juices leaking all over his lips and palm. He ponders just how long it’s been since you’ve been doted on. When was the last time someone ate your pussy like their last meal?

No longer would you have to wait, Jungkook thinks, as he was going to be the only one you’d go to for now. He leans away from your pussy to admire the way you grip his fingers. He drills them deeper and harder, arousal squirting out of you rapidly.

“You’re cumming, aren’t you, mommy?” Jungkook laughs, yet doesn’t stop his pumping. “Your pussy’s making such a mess…I think you are.”

Your hips buckle a bit to move away, but Jungkook’s free hand goes to push you down. With more force, he drills his fingers until he is nearly palms deep into your pussy.  Your walls clench and squeeze and Jungkook does nothing but force his way in deeper and deeper, scraping against your wet walls.

“Kookie, I-I,” you groan, cutting yourself off as you feel yourself let go around him, your thighs shaking with pleasure and overstimulation.

Jungkook marvels at your wet pussy, soaking the sheets and him entirely. He removes his fingers just as you’re cumming, juices pouring out messily.

Your head crashes against the bed, cotton sheets greeting you. You’re attempting to gather your breathing and stop your shaking thighs.

“You must be so tired, mommy.” Jungkook hums above you. “A man hasn’t satisfied you in so long, huh? Even whatever young one you brought home through that profile.”

Jungkook removes his shirt and throws it aside. He had every intention of fucking you until you were begging him to stop - surely that’s what you wanted.

“Kook,” you begin, eyes fluttering open.

Your eyes squint at Jungkook’s naked form between your legs. Has he always had so many tattoos? You recall him and Dash getting one together a few months back but surely his entire arm couldn’t have been that.

“I want you to cum around my cock next, mommy.” Jungkook grasps your legs and forces them apart. 

“Kook! Wait!”

Your hand reaches out to touch his chest and stop him. Jungkook blinks at you, tilting his head almost innocently.

“You need a condom.” you say, body warming with heat because you weren’t going to tell him to not fuck you like you should, but to wear protection.

Jungkook cracks a smile. “No I don’t.” he insists. “You’re only going to be fucking me from now  on anyways.”

Jungkook grazes his tips between your folds teasingly.

“And if I find out you allowed anyone else to fuck you, mommy, I’ll just show everyone how much of a slut you are. Everyone would see those pictures and know you like to get fucked by men your sons age.”

Jungkook speaks with such softness in his voice that it makes his words even more sinister. You’re stuck, unable to respond and Jungkook takes it upon himself to enter you with one, quick movement.

“You’re so tight, mommy. So tight and wet.”

Jungkook’s hip rock, his cock jamming in and out of you at an alarming pace. Your mouth opens to let out a shocked yelp. He forces your legs apart until your knees are to your shoulders, allowing him deeper access to your cunt.

“Kookie, s-slow down,” your eyes flutter as you attempt to speak to Jungkook.

“No, mommy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Jungkook retorts. “You wanted to be fucked and that’s what I’m going to do. Doesn’t my cock feel good in your pussy?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. Jungkook was someone you haven’t experienced in a long time. He was a naturally athletic person so his stamina was far greater than anyone you’ve dealt with. 

“It feels so good, Kookie.” you respond, deciding that it was easier to give in to the pleasure than to continue to fight against it. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook grunts, leaning down so that he’s hovering about your face. “Am I being good for you, mommy?”

Your walls grow tighter. You nod your head hastily. “So good for me, Kookie.” you moan. “You’re fucking m-mommy so well!”

Jungkook’s breathing increases with your words. This had to be sick from the outside looking in. Surely, Jungkook had something go on in his life that you were exploiting right now for your own sick pleasure.

Jungkook flips you onto your stomach and begins to fuck you doggystyle. Both of his hands are on your shoulders, his hips rutting into you. Your ass clashes against his abdomen in fast, clapping motions that it bounces off the walls of your bedroom.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Your pussy’s squelching loudly now. “you’re fucking mommy so good, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to cum yet - he doesn’t want it to be over. But he’s far too insatiable that he just cannot get enough of you. He ruts his hips faster and faster until he’s grunting just as  loud as you’re squealing.

“You’re such a slut, mommy. You’re all mine, aren’t you? Mine to fuck whenever I want.”

You don’t respond fast enough for Jungkook’s liking and a palm harshly slams against your ass cheek.

A loud squeal comes deep from your  lips and Jungkook just knows you liked it. His palm continues to slap against your ass as he pounds into you, harder and harder each time that it leaves the skin stinging.

Your back arches, thighs opening wider to take more of Jungkook like the slut he told you that you were. 

“Mommy’s gonna cum, Kookie!” you mewl.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook chuckles, amused. He yanks you by your hair and forces you back, thighs opening wider. “Play with your clit, mommy. Cum all over my cock like you did my hands.”

It’s so humiliating how you listen to Jungkook’s demands. As his cock rams into your swollen hole, your fingers latch onto your clit and you twirl them on the bud.

Your head rests on his chest, your fingers jamming between your folds harshly. Your sobs became louder, pussy squeezing and stomach churning.

Jungkook wished there was a mirror in front of the two of you so he could watch how crude you were right now. Your pussy is squeezing him so tight that he sinks his teeth onto the skin of your shoulder.

“F-Fuck, Kookie, Mommy’s c-cumming…!”

Warm juices pool down your thighs again and stain the cotton bedsheets. Your eyes flutter, but don’t close. You’re stuttering dumbly, going limp in Jungkook embrace.

Jungkook pushes you away and forces you onto your back once more. He lays onto his side and faces you towards him, bringing his cock back into you after throwing your leg around his waist.

Jungkook isn't making anything easy for you. You were already going through the overstimulation and he goes to suckle onto your nipple hungrily once more. His palm rubs along your ass as his cock rut inside of you.

Jungkook’s eyes roll as his tongue twirls your nipple, sucking harder and harder.

You were going to cum again, your nipples  far too sensitive to not cum even harder than the last time. You place a hand onto Jungkook's cheek, rubbing it slightly.

“Cum for mommy, Kookie.” you coo softly, holding him against your chest. 

“I-In you?” Jungkook says muffled against your breast. “I’m gonna cum in mommy’s pussy.” he repeats, determined to do just that. “Gonna breed you so nice, mommy.” 

Jungkook sloppily pounds into you until he’s cumming the hardest he’s ever had in his life. He shudders at the feeling of painting your walls with his own seed, satisfaction flowing through him.

You’re exhausted, falling against your pillows with a huff. You’re breathing heavily and when the high comes down, you are going to have to speak with Jungkook about this. Whatever the hell this was.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t move. He only connects himself back to your breast and continues to suckle gently onto your breast, his hand softly squeezing the other way. You are far too exhausted (and comfortably content) to push him away like you should.

trivia-yandere: ok but like i feel like this needs a part 2

trivia-yandere: part 2 :3

[softhaes]

ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀᴇᴄʜᴀɴ ꜰɪᴄ ʀᴇᴄꜱ ! ᴘᴀʀᴛ 4 𓇼

𓇼 『 ‎ ‎Ƕąҽçհąղ / ϚէąӀҟҽɾ 』 - @johnsamericano (stalking duh, Haechan breaks into your house, sexual fantasies)

𓇼 Inseparable - Slight Yandere!Haechan X Reader - @mint-yooxgi

𓇼 Haechan + blindfold - @moonctzeny (blindfold, oral sex (female receiving), sex toy usage, overstimulation, penetration)

𓇼 it feels like sitting on a throne, sitting on donghyuck’s face. - @clueleles

𓇼 haven’t been caught - @byunbaekby (badboy!haechan x goodgirl!reader)

𓇼 round & round! ★ [ l.dh ] - @hwaflms (i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/)

𓇼 strawberries & sunshine - @taeyongdoyoung (your adorable best friend takes you to a picnic in a secluded spot but his intentions may be far from innocent...)

𓇼 where do we go - @mins-fins (conversations between lung destroyi— i mean, smoking cigarettes.)

𓇼 teeth | l.hc - @sincerelyneo (Traditionally the caption of the cheer team and the captain of the soccer team are friends - some even date. But you and Donghyuck definitely aren’t friends - if anything you’re enemies. The two of you can’t go five minutes without an argument. So, why are you letting him fuck you in the locker room?)

𓇼 les ˖ ࣪⊹ - @tigermark (at a party with donghyuck, he keeps eyeing you. he knew you were just that pretty girl he went to school with, but he wished you were more...)

𓇼 allure. - @diorcities

𓇼 Fun, Fun, Fun | Haechan - @jaeminlore (you can come along with me cause we've got a lot of things to do now, and we'll have fun, fun, fun.)

𓇼 ( drabble ) vampiro ̨ ! 𓉸ྀི 一 이해찬 ՞ - @jjwistar (vampire!haechan x f!reader)

𓇼 good girls (m) | slytherin!hyuck - @starryhyuck (donghyuck thinks you’re the most perfect, little goody-two-shoes head girl who’s ever walked the halls of hogwarts. that is, until he finds out you’ve fucked na jaemin in the back of the library.)

𓇼 eater 101 ; l.hc - @iceonneo (so called enemy haechan eats u out (like a pro😓)

𓇼 agent!reader x agent!haechan - @jenosbliss (enemies to lovers)

𓇼 so high school | l.hc - @sincerelyneo (Hyuck doesn’t care that high school was years ago; after learning his girlfriend’s experience was shitty, he’s determined to rewrite it for you. After all, he’s nothing if not smitten.)

𓇼 brother's best friend!haechan - @ayukas

𓇼 benefits between friends | l.hc - @hyckstarz (there are a number of benefits to being friends — until you step past the greyed lines of platonic and rip the pages of the dusty rulebook called 'friends with benefits'. it was meant to be simple. after all, it was just adding sex to the equation of their already established friendship... right?)

𓇼 ★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “get you there”. - @lyvhie (haechan fucking you until you see stars and pass out.)

𓇼 𓂃 ོ☼𓂃 SUMMER SUN - @82sim (when you start your summer job at an ice cream shop, your new co-worker isn’t exactly what you expected.)

𓇼 bsf!haechan crashing out over confessing - @nightpoemz

𓇼 mean haechan - @puppysuh

𓇼 where pretend becomes real - @pohyuck (a variety show marriage. a fake spouse. cameras in your face every day.)

𓇼 caramel - lee donghyuck - @mejaemin (donghyuck’s summer tan is just tewww sexy !! and spending your time with him and ilichil at the beach has you appreciating it just a little more)

𓇼 drippin’ love ✦ - @remphobia (in which you playfully suggest to your boyfriend, haechan, that you two ditch the condoms. turns out, he has some kinks you didn’t know about)

𓇼 ᯓ★ you love haechan's thighs - @lyvhie

[softhaes]

His To Keep. JK

Pairing- Mute (fem) reader x father's right hand man Jeon.

Word count: 4,926

Genre: Dark romance, Mafia au (one shot)

Tropes: Arranged Marriage, Mutism, moments of trauma, Dominant Male Lead, Protector Dynamic, Violence, morally grey ml x soft fl, Intense, smut , explicit content, virgin reader, hair pulling, rough sex, manhandling, choking, possesive , nsfw content , explicit language, Underworld Setting, mentions of death.

Summary : After a near fatal attack inside her own home, Y/n who's mute since childhood and the only daughter of a powerful underworld figure is given to one man no one dares to cross: Jeon Jungkook, her father’s feared right hand. Desperate to protect what matters most, her father sacrifices her freedom for safety binding her fate to a man more dangerous than the enemies lurking in the shadows.

The chandelier above the marble foyer dripped with crystals. Blood stained the edges of the staircase streaking through the house. The guards were already covering the windows, dragging corpses in black masks out into the night. Her father’s enemies had breached the mansion.

And Y/N had almost died.

She sat curled in the corner of the hallway, her gown torn at the shoulder, eyes wide with wordless trauma. The knife they’d held to her throat had left a warning stroke. Her trembling hand tried to hide it with her hair. But her mutism left her defenseless. Her silence wasn’t voluntary it was a prison. Not a sound had escaped her as they broke through the back entrance and dragged her by her hair across the floor.

“Enough,” her father growled, voice like broken gravel, soaked in fury. His custom Italian shoes crunched over the glass as he walked past the dead men without blinking.

“Call him,” her father barked to his consigliere. “I want Jeon here tonight. Now.”

__

The mansion gates rattled asa blacked out Mercedes Maybach G-Class, matte black in colour tore down the drive like it didn’t belong to the world outside. It didn’t slow for the turn.

The guards stepped aside the second they saw the license plate.

They knew better.

The door swung open before the engine even died.

Jeon Jungkook stepped out.

The guards nodded with respect. Or fear. Likely both.

Jeon had arrived. Towering. His gaze swept the chaos, unfazed.

Inside the hallway, his jaw clenched as he took in the blood smeared on her skin, the tear down her dress. His fingers flexed at his side like he was fighting the urge to draw his gun again and again.

Jeon didn’t rush to her.

He moved with purpose, unbothered by the corpses around him.

Her father, standing near her, stepped forward.

“She was the target.”

Jeon didn’t acknowledge him.

He reached Y/N.

Kneeled.

One hand on his knee, the other pulling off his black coat with a single motion and simply draped it over her shoulders. He adjusted it, covering the torn part of her dress, his knuckles brushing the side of her throat. And for a moment just one his fingers gently touched the corner of her eye, brushing away a strand of hair matted to her cheek.

Jeon stood. Wrath boiling just beneath the surface.

He didn’t speak to her, not yet. His attention turned back to her father.

“I want them all dead,” her father spat, pacing. He walked over to his desk, slammed his fist on it, then turned toward Jungkook. “Their children, wives, mistresses, I don’t care. Burn their money.” Her father stormed into the main room, hand shaking in fury. His voice echoed off the marble walls like gunfire.

His voice cracked. “My daughter. My only blood. You understand what that means, Jeon? She can’t scream. My daughter doesn’t speak. She hasn’t since she was five. And those bastards knew it" he growled, voice rough.

“They got through,” her father snapped, his voice strained. “They knew when the security was weakest. They timed it for when you were gone.”

He threw his glass against the wall shattering it.

Y/N flinched.

“ If they’d dragged her out of here tonight, if they’d taken her I would’ve never heard a sound. She’d be gone without a trace!” Her father's voice cracked just slightly.

Jeon’s eyes flickered.

“Whoever did this,” he said calmly, voice low and razor-sharp. Jeon replied, his voice low and emotionless. “won’t see the end of this week.”

“Then marry her”

Y/N’s head shot up.

Her nails dug into the floor.

The room stilled.

“I said marry her. Tonight, tomorrow I don’t care. I want your name on her. I'm not asking. You owe me this, Jeon. Chain her to the one thing no enemy will dare touch.”

Y/N stood, suddenly. Her legs buckled. Jeon caught her instinctively, one arm locking around her waist.

“Careful,” Jeon said, voice sharp and low as he caught her.

One word quiet but commanding. Protective. Possessive.

“She doesn’t get a say?” Jeon asked, quietly.

“She doesn’t need to. She knows.”

And she did.

Because if Jeon claimed her, the world would think twice before trying to claim her too.

Jeon’s jaw ticked. He looked down at Y/N. Her eyes met his, glassy and panic stricken.

And he saw it.

The smallest nod. Then he looked up again.

Cold. Final.

“I’ll take her.” he said, voice a weapon.

And her entire world turned black.

Jeon caught her without hesitation.

Her father stepped forward, but Jeon’s glare stopped him cold. “Don’t,” Jeon said, his voice like cold steel. “She’s had enough.”

He gently shifted her into his arms, bridal style. Her lashes fluttered faintly.

“She’s not strong enough for this,” Jeon muttered under his breath, but no one missed the edge in his tone. He wasn’t angry at her

“She will be,” her father said from behind, eyes locked on Jeon. “Make her strong. Marry her. I know only you can protect her with your life .”

Jeon didn’t respond.

He was already walking.

She awoke to unfamiliar silence.

Not the echo of her room. This silence was warm. Deep. Padded by expensive walls and dim lights. And the scent..masculine. Clean and Spiced leather

She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the low light.

Soft sheets beneath her. A velvet headboard behind her. She wasn’t in her bed.

And the coat the coat was still on her. Draped gently over her like a blanket.

Her fingers clutched the fabric instinctively.

Her eyes turned and she froze.

Jeon was standing near the tall glass windows, back to her, hands in his pockets. His sleeves were rolled up, showing his tattooed arm. His black shirt clung to his frame like a second skin.

He turned his head slightly just enough to show her he knew she was awake.

“I had your clothes and other things brought,” he said quietly. “They’ll be here soon.”

She sat up slowly, groggy. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Just silence. Just air.

“I know,” he murmured, approaching her. “You don’t have to try.”

She looked at him, eyes still unfocused.

He added, slower now. “We’re getting married. Tomorrow.” Jeon leaned down slightly, just enough to meet her eyes where she sat, still clutching his coat.

“I don’t expect you to like it,” he said. " I’m a complicated man. Soft isn’t in my nature. But I’ll keep you alive whether you like it or not."

Then he reached for the coat on her shoulders just to fix it where it had slipped and for a second, his fingers brushed her bare collarbone.

His touch was warm. Gentle.

Too gentle for the man he was. Just long enough to make her breath catch.

Then he stood back, stone faced again. Controlled.

“I’ll be downstairs.”

And with that, he left her alone with his scent, and a future that belonged entirely to him.

___

The wedding wasn’t held in a church. It wasn’t held in any grand hall or estate garden.

It was conducted in the study of Jeon’s private estate deep within stone walls behind biometric locks and guarded by men who’d kill before they questioned.

A single table sat in the center of the room. Two chairs. A stack of marriage documents. Two pens.

Y/N stood in a white dress that wasn’t chosen by her but fit her too perfectly to be coincidence. Simple. Elegant. Long sleeved. High neck. Lace at the cuffs. A delicate veil draped over her face, shielding her expressions from the world but not from Jeon.

He stood across from her.

Black shirt. Collar unbuttoned, sleeves rolled halfway.

There were no vows. No priest.

Only a government official who had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and sign the documents quickly. He glanced nervously at Y/N before pushing the papers toward her with a pen

Jeon watched her. Not impatient just still. Like a wolf watching its chosen mate.

She signed.

Her name sealed her fate. Then Jeon stepped forward and signed with a single movement firm, confident, absolute.

The official stood, grabbed the documents and exited the room without a word.

The door shut behind him. They were alone.

Married.

Bound by paper and blood.

Y/N stood motionless, staring down at her hands. She didn’t hear Jeon move. But she felt him. He stopped just inches from her.

Then slowly without hesitation he reached up and lifted the veil from her face. His eyes drank her in. No hunger.

Just possession. Quiet, deep possession.

His fingers lingered on the edge of the veil before lowering it behind her shoulders.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “And that means something.”

Y/N's lips parted slightly, eyes wide. Her breath hitched.

Jeon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. The motion was smooth, practiced like he’d thought about this already. He opened it.

Inside was a diamond unlike anything she’d ever seen. Oval cut. Set in a band of platinum. Crystal clear with an icy blue fire trapped inside it rare, cold and exquisite. A stone that whispered of danger, power and obsession.

Jeon took her left hand in his, eyes not leaving hers as he slid the ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly.

“This isn’t for show,” he said lowly. “It’s not for love either.” He leaned in, voice brushing against her skin.

“It’s for my claim on you."

Her chest rose too fast, her lips parting but no sound came.

His thumb brushed under her eye, slow, grounding. And then, without warning Jeon leaned in. And kissed her forehead.

Firm. Final.

“Come,” he said.

His voice was low and unyielding

Y/N didn’t move at first but when his hand extended toward her, open and waiting something inside her stirred.

Obedience. She placed her hand in his.

His fingers wrapped around hers like steel.

He led her out of the study without another word.

The hallway was dim, the lights low and warm against the hard lines of the estate. The only sound was the subtle click of her heels against the marble floor each step echoing louder than it should have.

Too loud. Too sharp. Then she stumbled just slightly.

Jeon glanced down.

Her steps were uneven. The heels were too tall, and her ankles hurting beneath her.

He didn’t say a word. Just stopped. Turned to her. And without warning, scooped her into his arms. She gasped silently, clutching at his shoulder as he carried her down the corridor like she weighed nothing.

“You shouldn’t be walking in these,” he muttered, glancing down at the heels with a flick of annoyance in his expression.

She looked away, heat blooming in her cheeks.

But he kept walking. Strong, steady, with every step deliberate. He didn’t put her down until they reached the master bedroom. The door swung open at his touch.

Luxury greeted her in silence dark walls, silk sheets and blackout curtains drawn tight. It was beautiful. Cold. Intimate. When they entered the bedroom, he didn’t put her down immediately.

He set her down gently on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of her as if it were nothing.

Then his hands reached for her ankles. She flinched slightly. But he didn’t stop.

One by one, he unclasped the straps of her heels with a precision that didn’t match the rough strength of his build. When he slid the first heel off his thumb brushed the bone of her ankle. He held her foot in his palm and pressed his thumb just above the heel. Just enough to send a wave of warmth spiraling up her leg.

He moved to the other ankle. Did the same.

Silent. Focused.

The silence between them was deafening.

Y/N sat on the edge of the massive bed, barefoot now, her ankles still tingling from where Jeon’s fingers had worked away the pain. Her dress was pristine still fitted, still proper but she felt anything but proper.

Jeon stood across the room, his back to her for a moment, as he removed his watch, unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up revealing his tattoes slowly with the precision of a man preparing for something inevitable.

When he finally turned, his dark eyes locked on hers. He walked toward her slow, measured, his shadow stretching across the bed before his body did. Her breath caught, her fingers curling into the sheets.

He stopped in front of her.

“You’ve never done this,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. His voice was low, dark and heavy.

She looked up at him, lips parting. But her nod was small, hesitant and real.

Jeon’s jaw clenched. He knelt in front of her again just like before but this time, his fingers didn’t reach for her heels.

They reached for the hem of her dress.

“Look at me,” he ordered. She did.

“This is your choice.” He dragged the fabric up slowly, baring her knees, then her thighs, his eyes following every inch as it was revealed.

“I don’t do gentle,” he said, his voice firmer now. “And I take rough. Because that’s who I am.”

Y/N’s heart slammed in her chest.

He leaned in closer, lips ghosting near her ear. “But I’ll only take what you give.” And then he waited. She could’ve pulled away. Shaken her head. Instead, she reached for his shoulder. Just barely. Fingertips brushing over the black fabric of his shirt. A whisper of touch.

That was all he needed.

He stood again, this time pulling her to her feet. And with a single tug he unzipped the back of her dress. It slid off her body pooling around her ankles. He looked at her like she wasn’t just his wife now she was his territory.

He brought his hands to her ribs, rough palms moving over her bare skin as he turned her slowly, making her face the mirror above the dresser.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, voice like gravel. “Look at what belongs to me now.”

She did.

And in the reflection, she saw him behind her—his chest broad, his hands large on her hips, his mouth brushing the nape of her neck as he kissed it..hard.

His lips moved lower. And then she was on the bed. Flat on her back.

And Jeon’s mouth was on her inner thigh, kissing high too high. His tongue teased the edge of her lace and she gasped.

The lace was torn away. Not removed. Torn.

His eyes darkened. He stripped his shirt. Then his belt. Then everything else.

She saw the full weight of him and her breath faltered. But his hand gripped her thigh, pushing it open again. “I’ll make it hurt,” he said darkly, “but only so you remember it was me.”

And then he was inside her. Her eyes watered. Her fingers dug into his forearms. He cursed softly under his breath, head bowed, fighting for control. “Fuck,” he growled, hips still. “You’re so tight, it’s driving me insane.” He held still, letting her adjust, breathing hard against her skin.

When her fingers relaxed when her body stopped resisting he began to move. Slow at first. Then brutal. Possessive.

His hand gripped her throat not to choke.but to hold her still as he claimed her over and over again. Her nails clawed his back and though she made no sound, her body screamed for him in every trembling movement.

And Jeon listened. He heard her in her silence.

He lay beside her, breathing hard, pulling her into his chest without asking. His hand slid into her hair, gripping the strands gently, anchoring her. And for a long, heavy moment, the room was still until he reached for a glass of water on the nightstand and held it to her lips.

“Drink,” he said.

He pulled the blanket over her body, then slid beside her again gathering her into his chest again. His hand stroked the back of her head in slow, hypnotic movements, guiding her into sleep. And she did sleep. Eventually.

Her breathing evened out. Her fingers loosened their grip on his shirt.

And only when he was sure absolutely sure that she was asleep, did he move.

Jeon rose from the bed and walked toward the balcony, pushing the glass door open just enough to let the cold night air kiss his skin.

He lit a cigarette. Leaned against the marble pillar. And stared out into the darkness beyond his estate.

Eyes narrowed. Mind racing. One arm crossed over his chest, the cigarette burning between his fingers.

She was his now. And no one was going to touch what was his.

Jeon turned back to glance at her but only the diamond on her finger catching the dim light. Only the proof that she belonged to him now in every way that mattered.

__

The first breath of night air had barely touched Jeon’s skin when the sharp crack shattered the stillness.

A gunshot.

The balcony glass exploded inward shards like frozen daggers scattering across the marble floor, glittering in the dim light.

Jeon’s cigarette dropped from between his fingers. His eyes snapped , danger flaring in them like a storm igniting.

And then footsteps. A frightened gasp.

Y/N’s eyes flew open. Her body jerked awake, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped animal. The sound of breaking glass had ripped her from sleep.

Her breath hitched, her silent panic blooming in the darkness. Before she could fully process, Jeon was there fast as a shadow, stronger than any storm.

He slammed the door behind him, locking it with a fierce click.

“Stay close,” he barked, voice low and unforgiving.

His hand was iron around her wrist, pulling her toward a narrow hallway.

They moved quickly no words, only the sound of boots striking stone floors and the faint echo of their own breaths.

Jeon’s grip tightened when she stumbled on her bare feet.

“I told you to be careful,” he hissed. But his voice was more warning than anger. He led her down a concealed staircase.

The walls closed in thick steel, reinforced doors, blinking panels of high tech security.

The kind of place no one knew about but him.

The room was windowless.

He locked the door behind her, palm pressed to the scanner until the seal hissed shut.

“You don’t open this for anyone but me,” he ordered, stepping toward her. His voice was low but it vibrated with something feral.

She nodded shakily. His hand came up, touching her cheek before leaving.

And the door sealed shut behind him.

__

Jeon’s world went silent as soon as he stepped back into the night. No hesitation. No mercy. His world narrowed into one burning point: find the man , the man who dared to shoot at what Jeon claimed as his.

Jeon followed the faint trail of heat signatures and scattered footprints beyond the estate perimeter and he found the man. Waiting. Armed.

Jeon was methodical. Merciless. Predator and executioner.

Within minutes, he cornered the shooter in an abandoned warehouse. The man's face pale with regret too late to matter.

Jeon didn’t hesitate.

With one brutal sweep, he disarmed the man's fingers snapping the gun clean from his grip. Jeon’s fists crashed into the man's ribs, jaw, throat each hit a silent sentence. The man gasped for air, eyes swimming with panic.

Blood soaked Jeon's knuckles by the time the body hit the ground , unrecognizable.

Because she could’ve died. And he would’ve burned the world if she had.

__

She sat curled on the edge of a chair in the secure room.

The silence gnawed at her. Her legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

The sound of that glass of death missing her by inches still echoed inside her skull.

And then the door hissed. Unlocked.

She looked up and froze. Jeon stepped inside.

His shirt was soaked in blood. Blood stained his neck, clung to his jaw. His eyes still wild, still dangerous swept the room and landed on her.

She didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. She ran. Straight into him.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, burying her face into his chest despite the scent of blood, sweat and mental

His arms crushed around her in an instant.

Possessive. Desperate.

Her breathing trembled against him. Her hands clutched his back like she didn’t care what he’d done only that he’d come back.

“Shh,” he muttered, his voice still rough with rage. “It’s over baby”.

And then he pulled back just enough to see her face. There was a streak of dried blood across her cheek. With the back of his hand, Jeon wiped it off. Slowly. Carefully. The same hand he had used to kill just minutes ago.

Jeon’s breath was still ragged. The silence of safety hadn’t touched him yet not fully.

He needed something stronger to calm him.

He needed her. His fingers gripped the back of his shirt yanking it over his head in one swift motion. The blood slicked fabric landed on the floor as he stood before her, bare chested, muscles twitching with leftover fury.

Y/N looked up at him seyes glassy with exhaustion and something else she couldn’t name.

She barely stood when his hands came to her waist.

He moved toward her slow, dangerous and turned her around with one sharp pull. Then he grabbed the back of her night gown and ripped it open. Fabric tore like paper.

He didn’t unbutton anything. Didn’t unclasp. He ruined it fist clenched in the lace as he yanked it down her arms and let it crumple around her bare feet.

His palm slid up the curve of her spine. She shivered. Her knees buckled. He caught her again. Effortlessly.

Jeon spun her and slammed her back into the wall, caging her in with his body, one hand gripping her throat just holding her still while the other dragged her panties aside.

“Too tired?” he rasped darkly, mouth brushing her ear. “Good. I'm gonna do all the work.”

Her head rolled back. Couldn’t even nod. But she didn’t resist. And that was enough.

Jeon groaned low and feral and then slammed into her with a single brutal thrust.

She cried out but her entire body jerked in response, legs instinctively trying to close but his grip kept her spread open .

One hand under her thigh. One hand fisting her hair.

He used her body.

Bounced her on his cock like a machine rough, fast, punishing.

His hips snapped against hers, every thrust shoving her harder against the wall, her back scraping the stone, but she couldn’t even feel the pain. Only him.

Only Jeon.

“Look at me,” he growled, yanking her face up with a grip on her jaw. “Fucking look at me while I remind you who owns this body.

Her wide eyes met his glassy, desperate, barely coherent. But he saw everything in them.

The fear. The trust. The surrender.

She was completely gone. And that drove him mad. His lips crashed into hers not gentle, not tender. Just brutal, teeth and tongue devouring her mouth as he fucked her harder , deeper.

She gasped but her body responded, her nails digging into his shoulders, her thighs squeezing around him in helpless agreement.

She didn’t need words. He knew. He felt it.

Her body clamped down around him.

“Fuck,” Jeon groaned, head dropping to her shoulder. He slammed in one final time raw and deep.

He stayed like that for a moment. Still inside her. Still holding her against the wall like a shield.

Then he pulled back carefully watching her eyes dazed, lips parted, hair wild against the wall behind her.

He kissed her. Once. Just her cheek. Then he lifted her up again cradling her after all that brutality and carried her to the bed.

He dressed her in one of his shirts and carried her back upstairs. Back to their bedroom.

Glass shards had been cleared. Fresh sheets replaced. Guards outside.

Safe.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside, laying her down on the bed slowly, reverently. Then he climbed in behind her. One arm wrapped around her waist one hand tangled in hers.

She laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed.

Her hands didn’t cling. They simply rested.

As if her soul finally knew it didn’t have to run.

[End🤍]

[ Hi guys! It’s been a while I know. I’ve been incredibly busy these past few months, life is hectic. ]

[softhaes]

OO3. behind the lense

pairing: stalker!jungkook x stalker!f.user

summary: OF creator, jungkook, loves showing off his assets to his supporters who pay to see his exclusive videos and photos—faceless. but fans wonder why he never has a girl on his videos and why he never interacts with any other girl. they don’t need to know, though, he’s been obsessed with the pretty girl who live streams on her own OF account and who he recognizes as his enemy’s ex-girlfriend. she doesn’t need to know he’s the one who tips her the most with the money he earns from his own OF account, and who loves watching her from a distance. as for him? he doesn’t need to know she stalks him, too.

warnings for this chapter: non-con picture taking (none from main characters)

It wasn’t a bad idea to stalk someone, right?

Well, it wasn’t exactly stalking. More like observing.

At least that’s what Jungkook believed when Namjoon sent him the address of where you lived.

Namjoon had used your IP address to scan for “open ports in your network”—his words—after Jungkook had asked, “Can’t you just find her location through an IP address?” and Namjoon’s answer was a big NO… and something else Jungkook did not care to listen about because he finally, finally, knew where you lived after years of searching.

Of course, he couldn’t immediately break into your house. I mean, what type of person would do that?

He had to obviously get to know you and what you like and where you liked to go. He had to know what type of person you are now and what you prefer. He doesn’t want to weird you out by immediately barging into your safe space. Not yet anyway.

He saw you get out of your house around 10 AM. You were a little dressed up, wearing a cute shirt with some words he didn’t bother to read because God, look at you. So beautiful. So breathtaking.

He eyed your beautiful face after not having seen it in years. He wanted to hold it, caress it, kiss it, and fuck, he just loved your face.

Your lashes fluttered as you covered your eyes with the palm of your hand because you forgot your sunglasses—you had looked into your bag and grumbled a small “of course I forgot them” before you had your hand hover by your eyebrows.

Your mouth was in a pouty manner as you crossed the street, which immediately made him look away and pretend as if a car was much more interesting when you had to look his way for any upcoming cars.

And look at those eyes.

Those eyes that begged him to not hit your nasty ex-boyfriend. Those eyes that glistened with unshed tears when you saw a dog out of cute aggression.

He smiled a little. You were so cute.

You wore some baggy jeans, he noticed. But they did not cover the curves you had and he swore his mouth watered right then and there. You were still the same and whatever shape your body molded itself into, he didn’t give one single shit as long as those eyes of yours glistened the way they do and looked at him the way they did.

He followed from a distance, keeping a close eye on you and your surroundings.

He made sure his Calvin Klein hat covered his face and he cursed himself under his breath for wearing clothes that made him stand out in the crowd.

“Of course I had to wear black fucking clothes,” he muttered once he looked around to see he was the only one wearing darker colors. Everyone wore lighter shades.

He mentally cursed himself before continuing his path.

He got a bit closer to you here and there, but he never got close enough to touch your hair. No. He just got close enough to smell the smell of your perfume lingering in the air.

“And then she cheated on him with his sister.”

Jungkook mentally cursed at these two women who blocked his way by walking so close to him. He suppressed his sigh and moved past them to stand in front of them.

The two women stayed quiet before he heard a small, “Look at his shoulders.”

“Any woman would be lucky to touch them,” the other whispered.

He felt their stares on him, on his shoulders and on his tattooed arm peeking out from the oversized leather jacket he had on. He continued looking at you, ignoring them.

He was simply relieved he didn’t lose sight of you.

“Can you watch where you’re going?” He heard a man snap, nudging his shoulder rather harshly.

Jungkook clenched his hands into fists. Would it be bad for him to punch him? What is with everyone today? Is it a fucking crime he decided to go out to see the woman who has invaded his dreams for years? The woman who made him despise the touch of another? No! So why is everyone on his ass today out of any other day? Why today, a special day?

No. He couldn’t get mad, he thinks.

What if the man ends up being more violent than he looks and he and Jungkook’s fight gets out of hand? You can get hurt.

And he didn't want to take any chances.

So, with a muttered “sorry”, he walked away.

He continued walking behind you, making sure to avoid anyone that could be having a day just so he wouldn’t cause a scene by accident.

Thankfully, you stopped by a cafe. Of course, you did, and he sighed in relief at not having to hide too much.

He walked into the cafe after 2 people and he saw you sitting down already, menu in hand. He sat behind you in the other booth—he swears his luck is crazy—and made sure he wasn’t too noticeable to you or to anyone.

Was it a bit too late to mention that along with an OnlyFans he had a page where he rides his motorcycle? Namjoon had encouraged him to do so. After all, Jungkook had the looks, had the outfits, and had the license to ride a motorcycle. Let’s not forget his tattooed arm Namjoon had said looked “thirst worthy”—Jungkook made him vow to never say shit like that again.

Due to his popularity on his motorcycle videos where people vowed him as their ideal man, the more people saw his OnlyFans he plugged in his bio.

A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, and he loves doing what he does.

So, it wasn’t too weird of him to hide the noticeable things that would call potential fans attention by dragging his sleeves down to hide his tattoos.

“And what would you like?” The waitress asked you.

“Hi, mm, I’d like to get a banana smoothie with the chocolate croissant and some matcha, please,” you said with such sweetness to your voice he swore he would drop the act and head to the back to bring you your food personally.

“And will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you,” you softly spoke, handing the waitress the menu. You fixed yourself, he noticed (of course), and took out a cute journal along with your iPad.

You sat up a bit straighter to write in your cute journal as soon as you put on a show he didn’t care to see—he did care, he already wrote down the title of the show so he could see what you liked.

The waitress then came next to him and he made sure to gently speak so as to not disturb you.

“A banana smoothie, crepes with banana on top, and some eggs with bacon please?” Jungkook hummed, handing her back the menu, his gaze on the back of your head.

The waitress left.

He was left alone. Watching.

He eyed your pretty hair. Beautiful back. Beautiful neck. Just look at you, he thought. Such an ethereal being. Even with your back to him, no one could ever compare to you.

You yawned here and there and paid attention to your iPad more than surroundings which had him anxious. Why were you paying to some show more than the fact anything could happen to you? Hell, there was even an instance where you paid attention to the scene of the show you were watching because some characters were fighting and a man was watching you from across the cafe. The man even went as far to take pictures of you like the creep he was.

Pissed off, Jungkook sniffled, placed a couple of bills that would pay for his meal, and stood up.

He grabbed the man by the back of his neck and smiled as if he was just greeting a friend to others. But, the man knew otherwise due to the tight grip, the fact Jungkook’s eyes were dark with anger, and he had no idea who Jungkook was.

“Get the fuck up and if you even yell, I’ll expose your freaky shit to everyone,” Jungkook harshly whispered in his ear. “Get up.”

The man nodded and hesitantly obeyed Jungkook.

Jungkook maintained his grip on the man’s neck, making sure to hide his face when he passed by your table.

“Um, sir?” You softly called out.

He continued walking before you called out to him again.

With his cap covering the rest of his face—he didn’t look up, you passed him his phone.

“You almost forgot this,” you said, your fingers brushing against his own so briefly. His heart beat against his chest like crazy and he was scared you’d hear how crazy you made him. “Sorry for bothering.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he spoke with his head down, gaze on your hands. “Thank you.”

“Have a good day,” you hummed, moving back to your booth.

Jungkook looked up, gave you a spare glance, and looked away.

He led the man towards a dark alley away from prying eyes and slammed him against the wall, his hand gripping the man’s neck. The man flinched immediately as he dropped his phone.

Jungkook leaned down and grabbed it.

“It’s so funny that such ugly men as yourself have the nerve to be such creeps,” he retorted in a low tone. “Don’t you already have enough on your plate?” He arched a brow to the man. “An ugly creep? Pick a struggle.”

The man gulped. “Hey, man, wasn’t doing anything wrong, just taking a couple of pictures—”

“Then why the hell were you taking pictures of a girl completely out of your league, hmm?” Jungkook whispered, his fingers brushing strands of hair away from the man’s sweaty forehead. “Is it because of that? Because she’s out of your league and she would never spare you a glance?”

“You don’t know my life fuck you,” the man spat out, trying to get away from Jungkook’s touch.

Jungkook’s amused smile trailed off. His stoic expression appeared as his fingers moved to grip the man’s neck. He felt the stutter of his heartbeat under his fingertips.

“I don’t want to know your life, you waste of space,” Jungkook muttered to the man. “You see, your life is nothing to me. You’re simply a speck of dust, a lint. You do not matter and being a creep? Well, you’re just begging for someone to end your life.”

The man gulped under Jungkook’s hand.

Jungkook looked at the phone screen. He tapped away and found a hoard of pictures of women in a way that degraded them. Some pictures, for instance, the man angled them in a way where you could see up women’s skirts. Hell, he even had some pictures of men and their groin area.

“You get off on this?” Jungkook chuckled. “Oh, you perv.”

“I’m not a perv,” the man spat out, but Jungkook did not give a shit. Here he was watching picture after picture of inappropriate behavior from this man.

He tapped on your pictures.

“Such a low piece of shit,” he said, glancing at the man. “My sweet girl watching a show, not disturbing you at all just like all these women, and here you go and do your stupid shit. Tell me, do you get off on these people being clueless?”

“N-no,” the man stuttered out.

“Oh, I think you do,” Jungkook continued, now in the men's section of the pictures. “I’m all for being comfortable in your sexuality, but being creepy? Man, it is not a good look for you at all. None of these men will ever spare you a look.”

“Shut up!”

Jungkook backed away and hit him.

The man clutched his face, feeling the metallic taste on his lips. Jungkook didn’t spare him a look. He couldn’t. Not when your pretty self was on the phone of a man who had bad intentions.

“Wanna shut me up, big man?” Jungkook smiled, causing the man to get shivers up his spine at the way it lacked any warmth. “Come on, hit me. Show me how much of a man you are. Come on.”

The man went to punch Jungkook, but Jungkook rolled his eyes and grabbed the man’s fist and turned him around so the man’s face could collide with the wall.

“Tell me…” Jungkook whispered in his ear, “does your mother ever cry at night wondering what she did wrong to have raised a son who gets off on hiding behind the camera of his phone?”

“Shut up, you don’t know my mother!” The man exclaimed, struggling under Jungkook's hands that were holding his wrists behind his back. “You don’t know anything.”

“I hate nothing more than a creep who pretends to be a man but can’t even act like one,” Jungkook said between gritted teeth. He grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair and slammed his forehead on the wall. “Taking pictures of my sweetest girl. The damn nerve you have. You think you deserve to breathe the same air as her, huh? You think you deserve to even have pictures of her in your damn phone? No.” Small laughter escaped Jungkook. “I hate nothing more when a man can’t take a damn hint and creeps on innocent women and men.”

He turned the man around.

The man’s forehead bled and his eyes were teary eyed as he looked up at Jungkook’s face.

“If it were me,” Jungkook continued, now a whisper, “you would not be alive right now. But these hands don't deserve to be stained by filthy blood like yours. These hands can’t be stained by such trash because these hands are going to hold my sweet girl’s hands, her face, and I do not want the existence of your being stained on my fingertips and tainting her.”

With one punch, Jungkook knocked him out.

He scoffed.

He took out his phone and called Namjoon, making sure his knuckles weren’t bruised nor stained with blood.

“I’m guessing it went well?” Namjoon asked as soon as he answered.

“No, it got fucking ruined,” Jungkook grumbled. “Your friends… you said you know people who can kill someone and get rid of them.”

“Yeah but I said with good cause, Jungkook—”

“This man was creeping on both women and men. He took pictures of women, of women’s cleavages, of women’s underwear after he’d leaned down to do so, and he took pictures of men’s bulges. I need him gone,” Jungkook explained, still glancing at the man’s phone with disgust. “I have his phone on. I don’t want to turn it off in case it’s with a password.”

“They’ll be there in 5.”

“I didn’t even send you my location,” Jungkook hummed.

“I literally gave you the location of your girl, don’t even,” Namjoon said with a small scoff. “They’ll be there in 5. Check if your girl is there or if you’re going to have to stalk her again.”

“I’m just observing,” Jungkook corrected, peeking around to look into the cafe. Much to his disappointment—but no surprise—, you were gone. “Fuck…”

“Good luck.”

masterlist

[softhaes]

Taehyung

Wrong Twin

Freeuse maid

Fucked in front of friends

Fuck bestie in front of gf

Glory Hole

Public beach

Flight attendant

Best friend's brother

Brother in law

Counselor

Baby mom's little sister

Doctor body check

Students

Van Sex

Freeuse Gift

Gym instructor

Jealous best friend

Truth or dare

Freeuse roomate

Pornshoot

Cheater

Bad Twin

Bi-curious

Principal

Begging to stop

Professor

Secretary

Concert prep

Racer

Sex show

Sex resort

[softhaes]

✧˚.🎀⋆ calling 999 | n.jm .☘︎ ݁˖

pairing. popular!jaemin x gloomy!reader ♡︎.ᐟ

word count. 9.9k

genre. fluff · slow burn · humour · smut

synopsis. she swears he's the most infuriatingly, sparkly person around — too bright and positively suffocating. But for Jaemin? He's intrigued by her; the gloomy princess frog who he wishes to befriend.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby, cutie, etc.), unprotected sex, almost getting caught, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, really fluffy.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ A/N: the speed in which I got this out was crazy. I also wanted to thank all of you guys for the love, I'm quite the perfectionist when it comes to my writing, but seeing how well they've been received so far makes me incredibly happy. ily all 💞

Na Jaemin was the heartthrob. If someone plucked him out of a drama, it would be Boys Over Flowers — except he was the flower. Everything about him was charming, endearing, and effervescent. It was almost blinding. Sickening. She'd place bets he threw up rainbows and unicorns, no doubt consuming Lucky Charms sprinkled with stardust for breakfast.

Which is exactly why she avoided him like the plague.

She was an irritable shadow, afraid of being incinerated and consumed by the ebullient sun. Always grumbling and scowling whenever she came into the vicinity of his stupidly wide, toothy grin, paired with that obnoxiously loud laugh.

"You're stabbing at your food," a soft, amused voice cut through the loud chatter of the cafeteria, "Should I be worried that you're also giving me the death glare?"

Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him. She hated how well he held eye-contact, and she wasn't going to lose the little battles before the war. So, she sends him a scowl as a response, her dark, frizzy hair puffing up like a lion's mane.

Jaemin was intrigued by her. She was the only person who would never smile back, never say anything more than a few words to him. As if dealing with him, or people in general, sucked out her limited supply of energy.

Jaemin sits down next to her, his arm brushing against hers with the protection of her thick, knit sweater, "We're supposed to choose our pairs for the science project, wanna work together?"

She let out a scoff, side-eyeing him for the sheer audacity of asking something so absurd, "No," She replies flatly, munching on her cafeteria food that suddenly tasted like slop in his presence.

He raised an amused brow, smile never faltering. Honestly, she would pay good money to see him not smiling for once, "Come on, why not? You're smart and I'm... kinda smart. We'd make a good team! I've even come up with possible names for our duo," he clears his throat as if preparing a proposal for Shark Tank, "sun and moon, yin and yang, Princess and The Frog..."

"Princess?" She scoffs.

"Yeah, I'll be the princess and you can be the fro-," she grumbles under her breath, standing up with her tray and moving to another empty table. Jaemin was unfazed, unfortunately, and followed her casually as if she'd asked to move together.

"Stop following me," Y/N huffed, nestling into her purple sweater as she continued to stab at her food. She could see Jaemin's group of friends watching like vigilant vultures from the corner of her eye.

Haechan, the cocky, intimidating star student — or would be star student if he weren't so lazy. Chenle, the real crazy rich Asian, often coming to school with something designer. And Renjun, the angry artist who she often wondered how he fit in such a group, being as he seemed like the only normal person there.

She could almost hear their judgment, confused on why Jaemin spent almost every lunchtime circling around the grouchy loner.

Jaemin chuckled, slotting into the chair next to her, to which she nudged her chair to the side, trying to get as far away from him as physically possible, even down to the atoms, "it's either I work with you or Jisung... and I don't want to work with him."

Her eyes met his, glaring in a way Jaemin would call cute, strangely, "Not my problem."

Jaemin pokes at her arm, giggling when she jumps, startled, "But whyyy. That guy would be scared at the sight of a bunsen burner, that's not even on, mind you."

"Again, not my problem."

Jaemin pouted, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he let his soft gaze flick over her features. He had a horrible habit of keeping his eyes locked on people's lips, even more so when they spoke. But, from up close, his appearance matched the mix of a doe and a rabbit with his long, fluttering lashes and big, round eyes.

She hated deers and rabbits.

"Would it be your problem if we were friends?" Jaemin asked suddenly. Everything about his voice to his gaze were genuine. He meant every word, and that scared her.

She froze, grip tightening on her cutlery as she slowly met his watching eyes, "Friends?"

"Friends," Jaemin added, "I want us to be friends. You're nice."

She snorted. For the first time, she actually made a sound close enough to be a laugh and Jaemin, startled, looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. As if a UFO had landed right in front of him and aliens stepped out wearing chicken suits, "You're delusional."

"Delusional or not, I made you laugh. Even more of a reason for us to be friends, I'm a good influence on you," Jaemin teased. Immediately, her expression faltered.

The sun was obnoxiously loud, and infuriatingly cocky.

The sun was, indeed, loud.

When she woke up this morning, she never would have guessed how horrible today would be. Not until Jaemin raised his hand incredibly high and chirped to the science teacher, "Y/N and I would like to be partners!"

If looks could kill, Jaemin would be shot dead on Earth, stopped before he got to the pearly white gates; his soul extracted into a minuscule bottle, crushed and thrown into the deepest, tenebrous voids before he even had a chance at getting reincarnated.

She sighed, loudly. She could hear people whispering, their watchful gaze flicking between the pair. Jaemin was as smiley as ever, his eyes little crescents as he skipped over to her, flower petals trailing behind him like some spring-happy leprechaun.

Y/N placed her bag on the one free seat next to her, and Jaemin pouted just as he got to her table, "Hey, is that how you treat your partner?"

She couldn't even spare him a glance, not with her seething, "I told you, I didn't want to be your partner."

Jaemin shrugs, placing his books on the table and pulls out a separate chair to sit in front of her — all without complaint or a twitching smile. He could tell she was mad at him, he wasn't a fool. Usually, she'd be boring burning hot holes into his skin with her piercing glare, though now, she kept her eyes on her science book, not sparing him a glance.

He was cautious with his movements, watching her as he sat right in front, just close enough to smell the soft hint of lavender from her jumper. He didn't want to scare her off or build the tension further so, he did the next best thing he could think of.

Digging into his bag, he pulls out his phone and wired earphones, ones he carried with him for years. It was to anyone's amazement how they lasted so long. He scrolls through his playlist, trying to find anything that was calming enough and, when he does, he grins to himself, leaning over to place one bud into her ear.

Her eyes snapped to his, his finger still pressed to the earbud to stop her from snatching it out so quickly, but that meant he was closer than he had ever been. She couldn't help but to notice those dark eyes that reflected the glittering ceiling lights as his warm, gentle and hesitant breath brushed her dewy skin, "What are you-"

"Just... I know you don't want to talk to me right now so, let's listen to some music together. Just this once," his smile was softer now, eyes trained on her with a hint of nervousness.

When Jaemin realised she wasn't making a move to yank the earphones out, he slowly retracted his hand, letting the music play. Surprisingly, the song was calming and sweet — a stark contrast to the energiser bunny who sat in front of her, grinning like a madman just at her tolerating his presence.

Jaemin confused her. She couldn't understand how someone could be so... sunshine and rainbows. Just looking at him was exhausting, feeling the corners of her lips burn at the simple thought of grinning twenty four hours of every day. He may as well have had more muscles on his lips than she had in her arms.

"You're always smiling," she mutters, scribbling random doodles into her science book, not caring if it affects the presentation. She felt herself calming a little from the music alone.

Jaemin nods slowly, looking through their worksheet for the experiment they had to do over the course of the week, "Is that a bad thing?"

It felt like that question alone stumped her. It wasn't that smiling was a bad thing, but with Jaemin, it always felt forced — maintaining the good boy image. She scoffs lightly, "It's annoying."

He only laughs at that, leaning in closer as his voice turns to a whisper, "So, if I smiled less, you'd tolerate me more?"

Her confused look had Jaemin smiling at her like a fool, trying to see how far he could push as he pulled away, "Tolerate me enough to become friends, I mean. You didn't give me an answer yesterday either."

"Thought it was an obvious no," she takes the spare worksheet and starts filling in the equipment they'd need and the correct order of steps.

Jaemin lets out a sudden, obnoxiously loud "wow" at the sight of the work she had done in a mere five minutes. He snatches it from the desk, his thumbs digging into the edges of the paper as he held it up in amazement, lips puckered in an exaggerated 'O', before his gaze flicked to her, always searching for a hint of a reaction, "I don't think we will need a whole week to get this experiment done. At least, not with you as my partner."

"Don't get used to it. You're pulling your own weight for this project," Y/N mumbles, snatching the worksheet out of his hands, her fingers brushing his in the process. She flinches slightly at the contact, and Jaemin doesn't let it slide, his smile sneakily widening.

"Well too late. I'm already naming my future children after you."

She stares at him with a deadpanned expression, "You're so weird."

"Thank you," he beams.

There's a long silence after that. She quietly observes Jaemin, whose lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, smile softening as he chooses another song on his playlist, humming along to it. Then, her gaze drops to the paper again.

"Are you serious about being friends?" she asks softly, not looking up, voice so low he almost doesn't hear it.

He stops humming, "Yeah, I am."

Y/N finally looks up, and Jaemin's not smiling this time, clearly serious.

She considers it. Actually weighs the pros and cons of being friends with the sun which, if she hadn't known any better, would only repeat Icarus' story, where her wax wings would melt if she got too close, "Don't expect me to tell you my favourite colour or make friendship bracelets out of loom bands with you."

Jaemin's smile slowly returns, as if he's waiting for her to change her mind, "That's okay, you can start by telling me what you hate most about me."

She snorts, "As if there's enough time for that in a day."

"Perfect," he sends her his classic toothy grin, "Guess I have more of an excuse to hang around you for longer, then."

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, illuminating the multi-coloured shelves filled with snacks and bold coloured stickers with deals peppered along the products. It had smelled faintly of overripe bananas, cheap detergent, and air freshener — the familiar scent of your standard convenience stores. Jaemin had wandered the snack aisle on a lazy evening, indecisively scouring the 2-for-1 promotions. He was low on energy after spending the whole afternoon playing football against his will. Though, he was somewhat grateful it wasn't basketball this time, thanks to Chenle going on some last minute holiday.

All thoughts screeched to a halt while he was scanning for some snacks, seeing her behind the till. She wore the stores' basic, bright blue apron, the collar of the white undershirt slightly crooked, and an upside-down name tag pinned to her chest which gave more than enough away that she was in a rush to get to her shift. But most of all, she was smiling at the elderly woman in front of her, offering a genuine laugh when the lady made a joke he could barely make out.

Her laugh was so pretty to him. Despite it being awkward, tethering on deep yet with a sweet lilt... It was so unique, so adorable and something he wished he could hear over and over again, like a broken record.

He couldn't get over that smile, either. It brightened up her face and made her even more gorgeous than she already was. His eyes were locked on the soft and slightly shy grin, tugging up on one side. He had never seen her like that before, but he was already obsessed, his heart clenching as a sudden cuteness aggression overcame him.

The moment she noticed him walking towards the register with a basket of snacks, however, her expression had snapped back into its usual stormy cloud, the corners of her lips sinking into a scowl. Jaemin stifled a laugh as he set his snacks down on the counter.

"Hey," he whined, yet his voice was as bright and sunny as always, "I'm a customer too, where's my smile?"

"What are you doing here, Jaemin?" she grumbled, already scanning the items with speedy efficiency, clearly wanting to get rid of him.

"I came to see you," He let the sentence hang just long enough between them before correcting himself, "Actually... I just wanted some snacks."

She glanced at the box of Lucky Charms he placed on the counter —bright and completely childlike, just like him. She blinked before letting out a soft giggle, the sound barely audible, but loud enough for Jaemin to catch it. He felt butterflies going haywire in the pits of his stomach.

"You seriously eat this shi- stuff?"

"Religiously," he replied, smirking, "I'm convinced it really is sprinkled with some magical form of luck."

"Oh yeah, and what have you been lucky with?" she muttered, slipping the items into a plastic bag.

"You," he added with a grin. There was no hesitation in the way he had said it, especially with that stupid, shit-eating grin and the mischievous light in his eyes. But she forced her expression to remain neutral, even when a string of curses sat on the tip of her tongue.

The occasional beep of items being scanned and the quiet chatter of the other customers in the back had filled the silence between them. Jaemin leaned back and forth, raising an amused brow at her, cocky from having gotten to her in some way.

"I didn't know you worked here," he said finally, trying to fill in the silence and not wanting this moment with her to end so soon.

Y/N shrugged, adjusting the strap of her apron as she suddenly started to feel awkward, "It's... just part-time. Pays for things like snacks. But I never get to eat them because I have to smile at people like you all day."

He grinned wider, ignoring her slight jab, "So you do smile."

"God, you're annoying," she groans, packing the last of the items and gesturing to the till for him to pay.

Jaemin only smirks wider, tapping his card until a beep resounded in the shop, "And you're blushing."

"I am not-"

"Oh, you definitely are, but this would surely make you blush more...," He leans in, grabbing the plastic bag out of her hands, fingers barely brushing, as he whispered against the shell of her ear, "you're cuter when you smile."

Her hands stilled slightly as she let go of the bag as if they were opposites on either side of a magnet.

He held her gaze for a moment, before pulling away, "Thanks for the snacks."

"Don't come here again," Y/N grumbled.

Jaemin stepped back towards the automatic doors which kept trying to close, blocking the path of some customers as he smiled like a fool at her, as usual. She hated how he made her feel in this moment, and she could swear her heart had beat louder than the generic pop music which played in the shop. Maybe she would blame the fact that he was someone who does eat lucky charms. But his next words cut through her thoughts as he stifled a laugh before leaving, "No promises, cutie."

And, for some strange reason, that word didn't make her internally gag.

The cafeteria was in a state of a mess; chaotic noise and clattering trays, loud, overlapping conversations, and the sharp screeching of metal chairs. The air had smelt faintly of overcooked pasta and whatever they had tried to pass off as food today — what students would call radioactive slop. But not one table was as loud as the one Jaemin was sat on with his friends.

"I'm telling you, she's the cutest girl around. Like- Haechan, stop laughing, I'm being serious!" Jaemin glares daggers at the male who was barely keeping still on his chair.

"Yeah, I bet. I'd also bet she hexed you," Haechan, who sat across from Jaemin, wipes away a stray tear, followed by a sigh as he calmed down from his burst of laughter.

Renjun sat next to Haechan, nudging him with the pristine sleeve of his blazer. He had always kept a clean-cut appearance where not even a tiny drop of paint ever landed on his attire, "If Jaemin likes her, who cares? I will be judging though, but from the sidelines."

Jaemin grumbles, pushing his half-eaten tray away from him as he crossed his arms, "You guys are assholes. What happened to being happy for me?"

Chenle chirps in, glancing at the woman who was the focus of their conversation sat a few tables down on her own. He jabs a finger into the table, a classic Chenle move whenever he had a 'valid' point to make, eyebrows raised with passion, "You guys are like... the complete opposites of each other. She would definitely steal all your light. Well- on second thought, that's probably a good thing, maybe you'd finally be somewhat bearable to be around."

Jaemin rolls his eyes, stuffing a spoonful of rice and munching it in irritation, "Look, if you actually spoke to her, you'd see that there is more to her. She actually smiles too, and it's so adorable, plus-" Haechan side-eyes Jaemin; partly for speaking with a mouthful of food, and the other for simping over her of all people, "Don't tell me you're already pussy-whipped when you've only spoken to her once."

Jaemin's mouth drops in shock, "Once?! I've spoken to her like... three, four times?"

Haechan snorts, resting his hands behind his head, sprawling lazily out on the chair, "Might as well have been once. You can count it on one hand. You barely know her."

"Well, I know her better than you guys do, so why are we judging so hard?" Jaemin snaps, and his friends suddenly grow silent and tense. It was unlike the usually sunny male to get angry or irritated. His jaw was clenched as he dropped his metal chopsticks on the tray, the clatter loud.

Renjun clears his throat awkwardly, looking around the table, his brows furrowed softly as he met Jaemin's gaze, "You... do know why everyone avoids her though, don't you?"

Jaemin pauses, eyes flicking to his friend. Something in Renjun's tone makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, the tension, paired with worry, simmering.

"What do you mean?" he asks suspiciously, his voice quiet and brows furrowing.

Renjun shifts in his seat, shrugging, "Just… she's not exactly friendly. People say she snapped at teachers, ditched group projects, cursed out that senior last year-"

"She cursed at him because he was mocking her in front of everyone," Jaemin cuts in sharply, his leg bouncing under the table in frustration, "And the group projects... Maybe no one ever wanted to work with her. She had always been a target of stupid jokes. Besides, how is any of that a big deal?"

The table falls quiet again and Chenle raises a brow and puts his hands up in surrender, trying to lighten the mood, "Okay, damn. Someone is ready to fight for her honour."

Jaemin huffs, "No- Look I'm just saying... people love to talk. Don't you think she's just tired of all these assholes?"

Haechan whistles lowly, "Okay, our knight in shining armour, should we start planning the wedding?"

"Shut up," Jaemin mutters, his cheeks flushed pink, "I already did."

The lab was meant to be quiet except, Jaemin was being clumsy with the equipment. The glass beakers kept clinking against each other, and it was surprising how they hadn't smashed into pieces with his large hands. It was only them in the lab, away from the bustling lunch hall, and it was supposed to be them finishing off the experiment before they had to type up their conclusions. However, working with Jaemin was proving to be a separate challenge.

Y/N tugged her sleeves up her arms in frustration as she kept glaring at him and giving him orders. But Jaemin found her to appear less reserved when she wasn't surrounded by others — still sharp around the cute edges, but not enough to make a man cower.

"Put the beaker down slowly," she said, eyeing the glass nervously as Jaemin finished pouring the solution into a separate beaker, "I swear to God if you shatter another one-"

"Relax," Jaemin chuckled, mocking offence as he set it down with exaggerated grace, gesturing to it in celebration. She forgot he had arms that could squash a coconut in one go, panicking at the sight of him handling fragile equipment. But his cockiness worried her even further, "I have the hands of a pianist."

She side-eyed him with a slight look of surprise, "You play the piano?"

"No, but I could," he wiggles his fingers, "with these sexy hands."

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the subtle twitch of her lips before she turned away to fetch the other materials.

They had been measuring and watching the colours blend in the beaker, creating an... interesting solution. He watched her scribble something in the worksheet, noticing her handwriting was messier than he'd expected. It had kept changing its font, far from the consistent and neat image she had presented as, at least, with her personality. His eyes trailed to her frizzy hair that added an adorable, messy look to her, like his favourite character from UP, Ellie.

"You're staring," she mumbled, her pen tapping the edge of the paper in annoyance.

"Just admiring your handwriting," Jaemin teased, leaning slightly closer, glancing to her writing again, "It looks like five different people wrote that."

"Want to lose the ability to smile?"

He chuckled, watching as she moved to hold a pipette above one of the mixtures, "Are you going to start writing the conclusion, or should I do everything?"

Jaemin snapped back to reality, side stepping to grab the worksheet and immediately tapping the pencil to his cheek in thought, "Right, conclusion," he frowned when nothing came to mind, "Something something… mixture."

Y/N slowly turned to face him, "Very insightful," she deadpanned.

He didn't miss the tiniest curve of her mouth again and, God, even when she stifled a smile, it would still hit like a punch to the gut. He was starting to think maybe she was right to hide it as people would be drawn to her like the North Star. And now, it was starting to feel like it was a sight only he was allowed to see.

"You say that like it's not the best conclusion you have ever heard," Jaemin added, pressing the pencil to his lip smugly.

She sighed, snatching the worksheet from him without a word and scribbling a few lines with a quiet confidence that made him raise a brow. Her writing was still chaotic, unlike her thoughts.

He leaned in slightly to peek over at what she wrote, but she folded the paper away from his view like it was a personal diary.

"Do you mind?" she muttered in exasperation.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, resting his chin on her shoulder to take a better look at the mysterious writing.

Y/N stiffened, her breath hitched as she stayed frozen. It was insane to her how good he smelt, the way her heart stuttered, and the soft weight of him on her shoulder felt... right. She almost let out a loud scoff at her own thoughts before elbowing him sharply in the ribs.

Jaemin let out a dramatic gasp, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout, "Excuse me, assault in a science lab full of lethal equipment is a criminal offence!"

"You were in my space."

"It was our space," he mumbled, still rubbing his side, "I would argue we have dual ownership over this lab."

She tongued the inside of her cheek and shoved the worksheet in his direction, "I don't see your name on this paper, Jaemin."

He smirked, feeling his own heart blush at the way his name sounded on her lips, and grabbed the paper, scribbling Na Jaemin (Princess) in the top corner, and (cute frog) next to her name. When he handed it back to her, she glanced at the names, then at him, and rolled her eyes at his silliness.

"Anyway," his voice filled the quiet room, eyes glancing away to look at the clock, seeing they only had a few minutes till the end of lunch, "I think we did a pretty decent job, we should celebrate getting this project done."

She looked up his taller form in confusion, "Celebrate?"

Jaemin nodded, "Yeah, I'll bring you a snack tomorrow, something sweet, so that you forget about annihilating me for barely carrying this project."

She sent him a scowl in response, "And what makes you think I like sweet things?"

He grinned cheekily, packing away the equipment, "You like me, don't you?"

Y/N was convinced Jaemin had hit his head in the past month, especially with all the shit he was spewing. But she couldn't stop the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips, immediately dropping the second she had realised, and Jaemin's eyes widened at the sight. His heart was going haywire. She had finally smiled in his presence, because of him.

"You really do look cute when you smile," he grinned at her, slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking almost entranced by her, "I'm glad I'm the only one who gets to see it."

She snorts, packing her things away as well, "Well, I'd rather you not smile. It's exhausting."

Jaemin smirks, nodding his head, "Okay, I won't!"

He exaggerates a silly-looking scowl, humming at the same time, "Is that better?"

Y/N lets out a disbelieving scoff, eyeing him in what seemed like amusement, "Somehow... that's much worse."

It had been three days. Three days of Jaemin leaving snacks on her desk like some overly enthusiastic snack fairy with too much free time in the crackhead hours of the morning — throwing coins on snacks she hadn't asked for.

He had brought strawberry pocky the first day (what he would call an abomination in a box), Hello Panda's the next, and today? Banana milk — in this obnoxiously bright yellow carton, with the straw poked in. He called it a "romantic gesture".

Y/N stared at the carton on her desk, the happy face of the banana staring right back into her soul. Her brows had furrowed as Jaemin plopped himself into the seat beside her with his usual beaming aura.

"You're welcome," he said with a grin, chin propped up on his hand as he watched her with hearts in his eyes.

"I don't remember saying thank you," she replied blandly, but her fingers still curled around the carton like a stress ball.

Jaemin tilted his head, nodding in agreement, "I know, but you did drink the last two, so... it seems like you do appreciate the gifts, or me. Or both."

"And it seems like," she echoed with a deadpanned expression, "you're annoying. Unsurprisingly."

"Are you waiting for some kind of an applause?" she continued when he didn't make a move to leave, taking another sip of the banana milk.

Jaemin shrugged, never taking his eyes off of her, even as other students around looked on in confusion, "Yes, actually. I deserve a standing ovation. I had brought you peace offerings three days in a row, that's equivalent to a committed relationship."

"You're clinically insane," she shakes her head, scanning over her notes.

"Clinically sexy, you mean," he corrected, wagging his brows, his voice exaggerated loudly.

She let out a long, exhausted sigh that sounded like it came from the pits of her stomach, the kind of sigh only Jaemin could evoke. However, silence had then settled between them again. This time, it was peaceful.

For once, Jaemin wasn't rambling silly little lines, openly flirting with her, or laughing gratingly loud. Instead, he was sitting there, occasionally stealing glances at her while she pretended not to notice. Then, out of nowhere, the words that had left Jaemin's lips gave her whiplash, paired with how casually he had said them.

"Wanna hang out this weekend?"

Y/N's pen slid across the page in shock, her head turning slowly, and suspiciously, like he had just asked her to help him bury a body, "Hang out?"

Jaemin shrugged, "Just thought we could do something, you know, outside of science experiments and this God-forsaken building."

She stared at him blankly for a moment longer before replying, "I'm busy."

"You don't even know what day I meant," Jaemin pouted, throwing rubber shavings her way, playfully.

"I'm busy that day too."

Jaemin smiled, unfazed, "Just know, I'm persistent."

"You mean annoying," she corrected.

He laughed under his breath, leaning back in his seat. "You'll say yes eventually."

"Not likely."

"We'll see."

She did end up saying yes.

When Friday afternoon came rolling in, and he caught up to her outside the school gates with another (peace offering) drink in hand, a grape-flavoured juice, he sent her a hopeful look with his lashes fluttering like the princess he claimed he was.

The weather carried a gentle breeze as the sun formed a subtle halo over the brunette male, making him appear even more angelic than he already was. His dark eyes were softer under the afternoon glow, and his smile felt like spring. Y/N didn't know why things were suddenly changing. Why her thoughts were becoming brighter and warmer in his presence. It was like he had merged into her life as though he had always belonged there, and she couldn't help but to give in.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. One hour."

Jaemin blinked, surprise etching into his features, "Wait- what?"

"I'll hang out with you," she clarified, crossing her arms and looking off to the side as if she were an older sibling giving into the younger's request, "For an hour. And I'm not doing anything cheesy. If you take me anywhere with fairy lights or those photo booths, I will walk into on-coming traffic."

Jaemin burst into a fit of laughter, barely containing the smile stretching across his face, "You're the one who said yes."

"God," she grumbled, turning to walk ahead, not even waiting for him, "I'm already regretting this."

"No take backs!" He chirped as he caught up to her, grinning like he had won the lottery, "You'll regret it a lot less once you see what I had planned."

She stopped in her tracks, head snapping to him in shock. Not once had she hinted in agreeing to hang out with him, and yet, he had still put in the effort to plan something that wasn't guaranteed. Just because he wanted to make it something special.

"You planned it already?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously, "And why does that sound like a threat?"

"It's not! It's a promise," he beamed, "And of course I planned it. I knew you were going to agree. I mean, how could you say no to this face?"

He cupped his cheeks and batted his lashes at her. Usually, this would have been something that would instantly make her cringe yet, this time, it was so... Jaemin. So silly and adorably him. It gave her this sense of ease, as though it was alright for her to be just as silly, just as out there as he was. Despite what others may think.

However, Y/N gave him a long, stern look, unimpressed, "You are dangerously close to being punched in the throat."

Jaemin gasped, holding his arms up in defence, "Violence on our first date?"

"It is not a date," she said instantly, her voice a slight screech, feigning a scowl. Her heart was thumping erratically. A date? It was only a month ago when Jaemin had asked to be friends, but the spring-happy leprechaun wouldn't settle on just friends. Not with her.

"Sure it's not," he replied sarcastically, bumping his shoulder into hers. He watched as her teeth bit into the straw of the grape juice, lips puckering as she took a sip. God, he really was down bad.

"So, where exactly are we going?" she asked, interrupting his far from innocent thoughts.

Jaemin's smile twitched, internally cursing himself for getting carried away like that, "Somewhere where you can't walk into traffic."

She groaned, "Great. I can't escape by death."

Jaemin grinned, tugging at her sleeve lightly, "Nah, you're gonna fall."

"Fall?"

"For me," he replied smugly, wiggling his brows.

She stared at him long enough to make him shift slightly. He should have known corny, cheesy, unoriginal pick-up lines would never work on her, "…I changed my mind. Half an hour."

"I bet you're already falling for me," He continued to tease, gently poking at her sides and snickering at her annoyed expression.

"Keep talking and it'll be ten minutes."

He shut his mouth immediately, but the grin on his face didn't fade for even a second. Of course it wouldn't.

He had led her further down the quiet streets just beyond the school, the buzz of the busy roads echoing behind them. Suddenly, he turned into a narrow, sketchy pathway covered by dark walls and patched up windows.

"Okay, where the hell are we going?"

"You'll see, just trust me," Jaemin chirped, hopping over a puddle with the appearance of someone who probably believed in elves and the tooth fairy.

Y/N eyed the side of his face, as if analysing him, "You're like a golden retriever, and I don't mean that in a good way," she said, her tone dry, "Do you have this much energy even when you're in bed?"

Jaemin didn't miss a second, his lips curling into a smirk, "Depends who's in bed with me."

Y/N blinked, nearly choking on the last bit of juice, "You're disgusting."

"What?" he asked innocently, raising both hands in mock surrender, "You asked."

"And shameless," she muttered.

"And you're blushing," he shot back smugly.

She turned away quickly, muttering curses under her breath. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong… she was blushing.

However, when the path opened up to a skatepark, she was about to turn and walk in the opposite direction, until she saw a building to the right.

It was a planetarium, nestled at the far end of the park, hidden behind torn fences and overgrown trees, clearly abandoned. The soft, spring breeze weaved through the cracked windows and rustling dead leaves across the ground, making her anxious. It was silent, apart from the sharp creak of the iron gate as Jaemin kicked it open dramatically, letting her enter first.

"You're trespassing...," Y/N said nervously, yet still stepped past the gate.

"We are," Jaemin corrected, grinning as he didn't bother to shut the gate behind them, "You agreed to this, remember?"

She rolled her eyes, "I was coerced by grape juice."

Inside the planetarium was dark, where glimpses of sunlight flickered through the cracks of the walls. The air was coated in dust and old wood, the scent sharp in her throat — particles floated just like the glimmer of stars on the ceiling. The projector had sat in the centre, the lens still intact despite it rusting and coated in crumbling leaves and spider webs. But there was something almost... magical about this place, as though it carried many stories — a history.

"I used to come here a lot as a child," Jaemin said, his voice softer now, with a hint of nostalgia, "My dad used to work nearby, and he would take me after school sometimes. I mean... I loved the stars, it always intrigued me. I would just lie down right here and pretend they were real."

He lays down right in the middle of the dome, a softer, more pained smile gracing his lips as he saw the now faded stars that didn't seem to hold the same wonder it used to, "There was something so..."

"Magical," she voiced out her earlier thoughts, hesitantly laying down next to him.

He glanced over to see her looking up at the dimmed ceiling, the setting sun catching across her soft, pretty features, illuminating the curve of her cheekbone and the plushness of her lips. She looked oddly beautiful here, even in this run-down, shabby space. It was like she brought that same wonder back with just her presence alone.

"So this was your idea of a perfect date?" she asked finally, but her voice was gentle, tugging at his heartstrings.

"It's peaceful and there are no fairy lights in sight," he teased, "Besides, you'll ruin my date rating if you start judging my choices."

They lay in silence for a while, staring up at a ceiling that once reflected galaxies. Now, the real stars peeked through the gaps as the sun had finally set, fragmented and imperfect, fitting in like puzzle pieces against the fabricated lights.

"You asked me before if I ever stop smiling," Jaemin says, quietly, his eyes locked on the ceiling. He lies still under the watching gaze of the fading stars, "Just... when no one is around."

He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a bitter laugh, not reaching the crinkles of his eyes, "I think somewhere along the line, I decided that being the overly positive guy was who I was meant to be. If I kept people distracted by this- this image, no one would look close enough to see all the fragmented pieces. I wouldn't be a burden to others."

Y/N said nothing, biting her bottom lip.

"Sometimes it feels like… if I were to drop this act, people wouldn't know what to do with me," He turns his head slightly towards her, letting out a dry chuckle, "That I would be a handful. I'd come with all the baggage that overwhelms them."

Y/N felt her eyes glaze with tears, the brittle air pressing against her chest that made it feel almost suffocating. She hated how much she related to those words alone.

She shifts slightly on the cold floor, trying to make her voice sound neutral, "That sounds exhausting."

"I guess it is," Jaemin admits.

"I do understand, though," she responds, glancing at him, "With keeping up that image."

Her voice doesn't waver, but it had always been hard for her to be vulnerable as she never had the chance to with her own family, "It's weird. One day, conversation is easy, people are approachable and..."

He listens, his brows furrowing in focus.

"Being strong for everyone else meant having to lose a part of myself," She exhales shakily, her nails digging crescents into her palms, "And after a while, I stopped feeling like me. Now, it's like I'm just a shell and pushing people away is easier. You don't get hurt again."

Jaemin's fingers inch closer to her, his knuckles brushing along her hand and, when her pinky hooks around his, he can't help but to smile softly.

"Even so... I don't hate being around people," she whispers, "I don't hate being around you."

He feels his heart skip a beat and his eyes widen slightly when her soft gaze meets his. It was like he got a glimpse into the warmth beneath the grumbling girl, the gentle side of her that hid behind the protective wall. Her usual glaring, intense gaze was now soft and sweet, pupils big as they reflected the starry sky in them, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

Jaemin quickly snaps his head away, bringing a hand over his mouth, hiding his flustered smile, "This is dangerous," he mumbles to himself. Every moment he spent with her was making it harder for him to be normal, not with his body getting hot, and her pretty eyes that watched him curiously.

"What's dangerous?" She asks, confused.

"You, Y/N," he breathes, meeting her gaze again, "you don't understand just how gorgeous you are, how you look at me like that and... the fact that you really are someone so warm and funny and smart. And there is so much more to you that I-"

He chuckled nervously, interlocking his hand with hers more boldly, "I love that you're different. That you trusted me enough to share a piece of yourself. I also want to be someone who would take away all the burdens you've been carrying. To help fill your cup with you, because you're perfect to me, and I want you to see that too."

"But why? You barely know me," she asked quietly.

"Because it's you. But also... do we even need a reason? I just want to."

Her heart beats loud in her ears and tears finally fall, startling Jaemin as he began to panic, worried he may have overstepped in some way. However, it felt like those were words she needed to hear, even if it were just scratching the surface of understanding her, and her understanding him. It felt like she had finally met someone who could. Who would try.

"Jaemin," she calls out to him, and he blinks in response just as she leans in before she could think. Before she could stop herself.

Y/N's lips press to his softly. It was hesitant and shy, but it felt right. Slowly, her fingers cup his jaw and Jaemin pauses. He had waited for this moment, waited for when he could finally get through the protective wall she built around herself. She pulls away and he immediately pulls her back in.

When her lips meet his again, it's messier, with her running her fingers through his hair, parting her lips to mould with his. He feels the urgency in her hands, and he lets out a quiet groan when she climbs onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips, yet never breaking the kiss.

Jaemin's palms settle at her waist, rubbing slow circles on her skin. He tries to control the pace, kissing her back slower, patiently, as he pulls away to catch his breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let me-" his voice is breathy and hoarse; chest heaving, "Let me take my time with you, Y/N. Please."

When her eyes search his, he continues with a softer tone, "You deserve as much."

She leans forward again, kissing him slow.

His hands curl over the back of her neck, the other still cupping her waist, pulling her in a little closer. It feels different this time, gentle and tender. Their mouths move quietly under the witness of the stars, like they're both trying to memorise what the other feels like.

Jaemin sighs softly against her lips when she subtly grinds against him, and he rests his forehead against hers.

"You don't have to rush anything with me, Y/N," he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."

"But I want this," she bites her lip, looking down at him. And that's all it takes for him to want to give in and give her everything she wants.

Jaemin's lips trail to her jaw, then down her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses that make her heart flutter wildly. She whispers his name and he flips their positions so that she was under him now. His body hovers just above hers, brushing strands of her hair from her face.

He kisses her again, slowly at first, but the kiss deepens with each second. His hands slip beneath her soft jumper, fingers tracing along her waist and brushing just under the curve of her breast.

She arches into his touch when he cups her bra-clad breast, thumb swiping over her nipple. Her skin was warm and soft, paired with her sweet gasps, and he couldn't hold back any longer, pushing the jumper off of her.

"How could someone be so beautiful," he breathes out, his soft eyes delicately tracing over her frame as the subtle light of the moon hugged her skin. Her cheeks were flushed at the way he looked at her and, before she could feel any more shy, he connected his lips with hers again; tongue tracing the seam whilst his hands slipped under the lace, massaging her supple mounds.

Y/N tugged at his own hoodie, whining softly against his lips, to which he chuckled, sitting back to pull it off of him, not forgetting to place the clothing under her when he realised she was laying on the icy marble floor. Her cold, slender fingers cupped his jaw, trailing down his chest. It all felt unreal to the both of them; this moment under the stars. It was as though, under the moonlight, was her world. A glimpse into her inner warmth.

Soon, her jeans followed, his warm breath fanning against her inner thighs as his lips ghosted over the skin. He pressed gentle kisses slowly up, thumb finally grazing over her clothed clit which elicited a quiet moan from her. The moment he tugged her panties to the side, she knew what was coming and immediately gripped onto his hair in anticipation.

Jaemin's tongue licked a thick stripe up her folds and she shuddered. But he didn't stop there, picking up the pace. His humming against her had her cheeks flush. His warm breath and tongue guided her down the path towards ecstasy, hands pinning her thighs against his sprawled out hoodie. Each tug at the locks of his hair and the soft whines that left her lips, had Jaemin's control slip further, subtly grinding against the floor to find some sort of friction.

Y/N couldn't take it any more. Not his wet tongue that elicited lewd sounds from her lips, creating an erotic melody that layered with his eager licks and groans, paired with the squelching sounds as he finally pushed his fingers into her. Her eyes blurred as she stared at the stars, glimmering as he brought her to the edge. His fingers curled perfectly inside her, pressing against a bundle that made the thread snap, finally coming and coating his fingers with her release.

The sound he made when she shuddered beneath him; eyes rolling back, was so pretty, so guttural, she swore she could have come again right there and then.

"You're perfect, baby," he kissed the inside of her thigh before crawling up her writhing body, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, "We don't have to go all the way tonight, if you don't want to."

Immediately, she shook her head, pulling him in for a lazy kiss, "Jaemin... I want to. I'm sure."

He swore he felt his cock twitch at that, but he shook it off, sitting back on the heels of his feet as he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking it off along with his boxers. But he cursed at himself when the realisation dawned on him, "I-I'm sorry, baby. I don't have a condom. I mean... I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of tonight." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, though she almost didn't hear him, too entranced by the size of him, needing to shake herself out of it.

"If you're okay with not using one, I'm okay with it too," she said without hesitation, "I'm on the pill and... Well, I can get the morning after-" His soft chuckle had cut her words short, "You want me that bad, huh? Aren't you the same woman who was so eager to get rid of me earlier?"

Y/N grumbles under her breath, "Just shut up. Are you going to sleep with me or what? It's getting cold."

Jaemin shakes his head in amusement, hovering over her. The way he looks at her has her heart race; the affection that he doesn't bother to hide, the way his eyes are constantly flicking over her features as if etching them into memory, and the way he isn't quick with claiming her, always making sure she's okay and giving her time to back out. Slowly, she reaches up, cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip.

"Fuck... do you know what you do to me?" He breathes out, nuzzling into her touch and placing a kiss to the inside of her hand.

Then, he slides his member through her folds, pushing into her inch by inch, pausing every time her brows furrow even slightly. Even when it was torturous for him, he put her first, waiting until the corners of her lips relaxed, and the space between her brows didn't crease.

Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside, and she had relaxed around him, he started to move, picking up the pace a little at a time, her sounds playing as the guide. She was perfect, fitting around him like a glove, wrapping her legs over his hips, rocking into him to feel him deeper, as if he wasn't close enough for her.

Jaemin rested his forehead against hers, his groans synchronised with her pretty moans, "God..." he breathed out, letting his hand cup her waist, fingers pressed into her dewy skin as he grinded into her.

Y/N grabbed onto whatever she could, moving to nestle into his neck, her warm breath and plush lips brushing over his pulse point, "Y-yes, Jaemin...," her nails dug into his back, toes curling at every rock of his hips, every push of his dick into her, had the stars on the ceiling feel brighter and all-consuming, "F-fuck."

Jaemin couldn't handle it, couldn't prolong her release any longer. He grabbed onto her thighs, pushing them out and up to angle his thrusts better. Then, he grabbed onto her wrists, pulling them towards him, sitting back on the balls of his feet as he picked up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was so dirty under the witness of the gleaming moonlight.

Her head rolled back, mouth agape as deep, throaty sounds escaped her. The moment she began to shudder, he knew he had made her come a second time, his own release following right after.

Jaemin collapsed on top of her, his large frame burying her in warmth as she let out a lazy giggle, snuggling into him, "That was..."

"Amazing? I know."

She smacked his shoulder playfully, "You're so cocky. For all you know, I could have been about to say that it was mediocre, or abysmal, or-"

"Or the hottest thing ever," Jaemin pressed a kiss under her jaw, rolling off of her to grab the sleeve of his hoodie that still nestled under her figure, wiping away at the inside of her thighs.

Just then, a flashlight peeked through the hallway just outside the door. Immediately, the pair glanced at each other, Jaemin muttered a loud 'shit', before quickly slipping on his boxers and jeans, and she chucked his hoodie at him, throwing her own clothes back on — barely.

"We gotta go, now," Jaemin grabbed at her wrist before she could put her jeans and shoes on, darting out the back just as the security guard opened the door, yelling a 'who's there?'

As soon as they made it out of the planetarium and into the chilly night air, out of breath and barely able to stand up straight, Jaemin and Y/N let out a chuckle that sounded more like relief, finally bursting into a fit of laughter, barely able to keep their balance. She used that time to slip on her jeans and shoes, elbowing Jaemin, "We almost got arrested. You sure this is still a good date spot?"

Jaemin raised an amused brow at her, catching his breath after laughing, shrugging, "I just bagged the most perfect, smartest, and most unattainable woman in there. I'd say it's the date spot."

Y/N rolled her eyes, interlocking her fingers with his as she led him back onto the main street, "You better not bring anyone but me."

Jaemin stopped in his tracks, turning her around to face him as he held onto both of her hands, his face serious, "Of course. It's only ever been you, Y/N. I know we've only been on just one date and I know I get on your nerves, and that I barely carried any weight on that science project," he let out an embarrassed chuckle, "But I want to be your boyfriend, if you'll let me. Just know that I'll spoil you like crazy, because we both know that I'm the one who is down bad, who is so madly in love I can't think straight in your presence. I know it's only been a short while, but sometimes it just clicks and it clicked with you, Y/N. It clicked perfectly."

She couldn't stifle a wide smile, her eyes glazing over as she nodded eagerly, squeezing his hands tightly, "I can't say it's love just yet I... I need time, but I do like you, a lot and, I want to give us a try. I'll let you be my boyfriend."

Jaemin didn't realise he was holding his breath, letting out a sigh of relief, "I'm not expecting you to feel anything more than that, Y/N. That's more than enough for me, more than I can ask for or feel worthy of."

She tutted at him, sending him a playfully annoyed expression, "You're worthy of a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Jaemin."

6 months later...

"Haechan, don't be a brat, I told you to put the candles on the candle holders before placing them on the cake," Y/N scowled at the male, who only shrugged in response.

"You really don't need candle holders for this, he'll blow the candles out in like... two seconds. No wax will drip on the cake," He swiped his finger over the frosting, licking it off which had her smack his shoulder.

Renjun let out a frustrated sigh at their usual bickering, shoving Haechan to the side and placing the candles on the toppers, "Stop being difficult, Haechan. This isn't your event."

Haechan grumbled, crossing his arms as he leant against the fridge, "You guys need to get a DNA test, it's crazy how similar you both are."

Chenle, who was still wearing sunglasses indoors, peers up from his phone after watching the tracking map, seeing Jaemin's icon pulling up to the apartment, "Guys, he's almost here, stop fighting."

Y/N quickly scrambles to grab the cake, causing Renjun to whine, "Careful, this will all go to waste if you drop it!"

She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping the cake into her hands as she moves to stand in front of the door, "Okay, as soon as you hear the elevator, light the candles. Don't mess this up!"

Haechan grabs the lighter from the counter, standing next to her as he angles it just above the first candle, "Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't want the leader of the underworld to beat my ass."

She sends him a glare, kicking his leg which causes him to yelp, "I am not Hades!"

"Well, Hades would have kicked my leg too!"

"Because you deserved it!"

Chenle, who was now standing in front of the door, jumps in surprise when he hears the elevator ding, "Guys, shut up, he's here!"

Haechan, about to clap back at her, quickly lights the candles, struggling with the last one until it finally burns a flame into the thread just in time for the front door to open. Renjun could have sworn he almost had a heart attack from the way their whole surprise could have gone bust.

As soon as Jaemin steps inside, the quartet broke into song, singing happy birthday to the male who never would have expected a surprise from the people who meant the most to him. A smile tugged at his lips, his toothy grin wide as he finally met the gaze of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. He knew it was her idea, that she brought them here for him, even though it had taken a while for them to all grow close.

When the song ends, Jaemin's eyes flutter closed to make his wish, blowing out the candles, causing everyone to cheer. Haechan ruffles Jaemin's hair, Chenle claps his back, and Renjun gives him a curt nod and birthday wishes, taking the cake from Y/N's hands before the three of them move to the living room, preparing to hand him the presents.

Jaemin doesn't stop smiling at her, pulling her into a tight hug, his nose nestling into her hair, "Thank you for organising all of this, Y/N... It means the world."

She chuckles, "Of course, I knew how much it would mean to you. I'm just surprised I could get everything ready in time, knowing how easily the four of us bicker."

Jaemin chuckled, pulling back to meet her gaze, "Am I the luckiest man ever? I think I am."

She snorts, rolling her eyes, "You're so annoying. This is why I love you."

Jaemin paused, his eyes widening slightly as the words finally registered, "You..."

When she realised why he had been shocked, she shakes her head in amusement, pulling him in for a sweet kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as she pulled back, "I love you, Jaemin. I was just waiting for the right time to say it."

The three men hollered from the living room, but Jaemin let those sounds drown out, cupping her cheeks with the palms of his hands as he pulled her back in for another kiss, parting his lips against hers, tugging at the plush skin as he smiled into her mouth, "I love you too, Y/N."

© hyckstarz

[softhaes]

haechan fic recs

i've recently gotten into nct and now i'm in a HAECHAN BRAINROT, so here are some of my favorite reads :)

the boy is mine (series, around 101k, infidelity, smut)

pussy fiend (2 parts, 68.9k, smut, fluff, college au)

indica dreams (11.7k, smut, fluff, plug!haechan)

what the puck! (11.6k, fluff, angst, hockey player!haechan)

fast times (7.6k, fluff, coworker au)

red velvet hearts (7.7k, fluff, bad boy!haechan)

learning languages (18.5k, smut, fluff, angst, college au)

romancing (23.7k, fluff, college au, enemies2lovers)

two "rules" one problem (14.8k, angst, fluff, college au, enemies2lovers)

getting even (11.6k, smut, college au)

the need to know part 1 (13.5k, smut, fluff, angst)

the need to know part 2 (17.7k, smut, fluff, angst)

settle down (series, angst, smut, rockstar!haechan)

6 reasons i hate boys (16k, angst, fluff)

paperclip (6.3k, smut, neighbor!haechan)

risking it all (15.3k, angst, badboy!haechan)

who is it (30k, angst, smut, fake marriage)

double dog dare (12.1k, smut)

teach me to not love part 1 (14k, smut, angst, college au)

teach me to not love part 2 (17k, smut, angst, college au)

teach me to not love part 3 (15k, smut, angst, college au)

get you there (straight smut)

SMAUS:

shes the man

blooming hearts

divine timing

r/uberEATS

the cat returns

hostile work environment

milady

where you are

[softhaes]

haechan smau recommendations

completed

zoom, click, panic! - @ nerdlvr

pay the price - @ lqfiles

blooming hearts - @ nerdlvr

shes the man - @ yutarot

nightwalker - @ viasdreams

r/uber eats - @ ayukas

divine timing - @ v1si0n

my page - @ lysyuta

one night only - @ mrkified

love formula - @ soobieedoo

hostile work environment - @ midasriku

i hate you? i love you? - @ svnscape

ongoing

fien - @ anglswon

bad idea right - @ i-kai

where you are - @ luvmahae

watching tv - @ mahaewebs

no idea - @ jirsungs

nerf this - @ injvns

brooklyn baby - @ fairyoflia

[softhaes]

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About author

Spain. Poc. 11.11. Demisexual. Sapiosexual. 4B. Call me miss, mommy, mami or bae, honey, any petname. 21+. Female. Work in marketing. Bias is Taehyung.

About blog

This is an out of pocket freaky BTS smut blog, I don’t do fluffy romance or feel good fics. Please don’t trauma dump, or send personal sex stories. Do not send inappropriate pics of the members (like bulge pics) or sexualize them outside of my fics.

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Requests archive | Kinktober masterlist

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If you send me asks regularly, feel free to use an emoji ❤️

🦎 = lizard anon (Lizzy)

☔ = umbrella anon (Ella)

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‼️Interact with me before 17th of December or your emoji will be removed‼️ 👇🏻

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[softhaes]

ALTARS IN SHALLOW WATERS | 03

➔ PAIRING: Taehyung x Y/N (ballerina x stalker AU)

➔ MOODBOARD

➔ RATING: Mature, 18+, explicit themes and content.

➔ DATE POSTED: May 12, 2025.

➔ SUMMARY: Altars crumble faster in shallow water. But he still knelt like it was sacred. No one ever warned you that worship could look like love. Or that love could look like drowning.

➔ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, ballerina!Y/N, stalker!taehyung, obsessive devotion, psychological tension, fixation, worship dynamics, Paris setting, religious imagery, voyeurism, sacred/profane dichotomy, slow burn, touch starvation, ritualistic behavior, gradual corruption, power dynamics, mirror imagery, water symbolism, sensory details, clean/unclean fixation, contamination OCD, professional dancer, self-destructive patterns, compulsive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive tendencies, praise addiction, spiritual yearning, toxic attraction, dangerous adoration, self-loathing, body discipline, mental health issues, self-harm, mental deterioration, unresolved sexual tension (for now).

➔ CONTENT in this chapter: bruising, self punishing, self harm, cleansing one self, ocd portrayal, stressful situations, psych sessions, public healthcare portrayal in the mental health realm

➔ AUTHOR’S INTRO AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

➔ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,6k

➔ A/N: HELLO. WELCOME BACK TO THIS NIGHTMARE. Kiki Nation is THRIVING. And by thriving, I mean crumbling under the weight of my own pacing choices. That’s right. You thought you were getting plot? ACTION? MOVEMENT? Wake up, babe. This is Kiki Nation, and here? We move like anxiety on a Sunday night—slow, painful, and entirely internal. But listen… listen. Jokes aside (kind of), this chapter is actually doing a lot even if it looks like nothing is happening. I love writing scenes like this because, while it feels still on the surface, the psychological current is raging underneath. What’s being said without being said? What’s slipping through the cracks? What isn’t Taehyung allowing himself to articulate because if he did, it would crack him open? That’s what this is about. It’s tension. It’s claustrophobia. It’s the mind eating itself alive. We’re diving deep into the obsessive-compulsive loops here—realistic ones. I researched this thoroughly, not only as someone who lives with neurodivergence, but as someone who respects how complex OCD truly is. It’s not just “I like things clean” or “haha I’m quirky about numbers.” OCD is a deeply distressing, all-consuming, reality-warping condition that demands ritual to relieve unbearable tension, even when you know it makes no logical sense. You KNOW it’s irrational. That’s the point. But the alternative feels worse. And that’s what I wanted to capture. The thing about trauma—especially when you’re neurodivergent—is that your brain will cling to anything that feels controllable when real life becomes overwhelming. And sometimes, those fixations grow teeth. What starts as “I need to clean this” becomes “If I don’t, I am disgusting. I am dangerous. I will harm something I care about.” That’s not aesthetic. That’s hell. And yeah… Dr. Bernard trying so hard but still being limited by time, funding, caseloads… It’s a subtle nod to the very real way public healthcare systems stretch mental health care to its absolute breaking point. Because if Taehyung had money? He’d have private therapy, trauma-informed care, daily support. But no. He gets 45 minutes in a tile-counting room twice a month and a prescription that might not even be enough. It’s not fair, and that’s kind of the point. For legal reasons, this is a joke!!! 🥰 (But is it?) So yeah. I hope you’re paying attention to the mirror. The numbers. The language he uses. The way he doesn’t trust reality itself. There’s a reason this chapter feels repetitive. There’s a reason he keeps looping. And if you felt trapped reading it—good. You’re right where I wanted you. (affectionate)Thank you for reading and for trusting me to tell a story that digs a little deeper than surface-level trauma bait. Your comments and support mean everything to me. I read every single one. See you in the next chapter where… oh. Oh no. Yeah. See you there. (awkward finger guns)

➔ SERIES : PREVIOUS | NEXT

KIKI NATION’S DISCUSSION THREAD FOR THIS CHAPTER

PLAYLIST

Purple blooms beneath thumb pad. 

Bruises beneath his finger.

Taehyung presses harder, watching skin darken under pressure. 

Pain flares, then dulls. Not enough. Never enough to convince himself that yesterday was real.

He sits on the edge of his mattress, counting breaths. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

The apartment smells of bleach and nothing else. 

(bleach, he needs to bleach the r—bleach—it’s dirty, he needs bleach)

No food. No life. Just chemical purity and the faint must of walls that never fully dry.

You were there. In his store. Breathing his air.

(impossible impossible impossible)

His fingers find another patch of unmarked skin along his forearm. 

Pinch. Twist. Hold until capillaries burst and blood pools beneath the surface. 

The pain grounds him in reality, but reality itself has become suspect.

How could you exist in the same grimy corner of Paris where he scrubs floors and straightens shelves? How could something so clean touch something so dirty?

Your scent lingers in his memory—sweet almond, rose, powdered sugar. 

Macarons. 

(macarons, macaronsmacaronsmacarons)

The kind sold in patisseries where everything costs too much and the staff watches him like he might pocket something.

He's never wanted macarons before. Never craved anything sweet.

Now his mouth waters at the memory.

(disgusting filthy unworthy)

Seven new bruises track up his arm like stepping stones. 

Evidence that he exists. That yesterday existed. That you might have seen him—really seen him—even through the curtain of hair he uses to hide.

The thought makes his stomach lurch.

He stumbles to the bathroom, falls to his knees before the toilet. Nothing comes up. He hasn't eaten since yesterday morning. Just water. Just enough to keep his body functioning.

The tile is cold against his forehead as he counts again. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. Again. Until the nausea passes.

You'd asked him a question. Spoken directly to him. Your voice precise as cut glass.

‘Why are you helping me?’

He hadn't answered. Couldn't answer. What could he possibly say?

Because your knees shouldn't touch this filthy floor.

Because you're too perfect for this place.

Because I'm not worthy to watch you bend.

The memory of your cotton pads—the dented package he'd first grabbed, the horror that had seized him when he saw the imperfection—makes his fingers twitch. He'd found you a perfect one. Undamaged. Clean. 

It mattered so much in that moment, more than breathing.

He drags himself up from the bathroom floor. Crosses to the sink. Turns the water as hot as it will go and plunges his hands beneath the stream.

The burn is good. Clean. Skin reddens instantly.

He scrubs with the rough side of a sponge until his palms are raw. Until he can't feel the phantom touch of the cotton pad package he handed you. Until he can't remember the way your fingers almost—almost—brushed his gloved ones.

Gloves. He'd been wearing gloves. Thank god. Thank god.

(still dirty still contaminated still worthless)

The mirror above his sink is spotless. He keeps it that way, though he rarely looks into it. Now he forces himself to meet his own eyes.

Dark circles. Hollow cheeks. Hair too long, falling across his face in messy blindish waves.

He looks like a ghost. A shadow. Nothing substantial enough to exist in your world.

Yet you'd looked at him. Tried to see his face. Asked him a question in that voice like winter air.

His stomach clenches again, but differently. Not nausea this time. Something worse. Something like hunger, but not for food.

Macarons.

The word loops in his mind, sweet and forbidden. He wants to taste them now. Wants to know if they taste like you smell. Wants to dissolve them on his tongue and pretend he's breathing the same air that touches your skin.

The thought is so profane it makes him dizzy.

He stumbles back to his bed. Sits on the edge again. Pinches another spot on his arm, harder this time. The pain blooms bright, then fades too quickly.

You'd looked back at him from the doorway. Caught him watching. Your eyes narrowed slightly, calculating. Seeing.

No one sees him. No one notices. He's made sure of it for years.

But you had.

His phone buzzes. Work in an hour. The convenience store waits, its floors already collecting new grime, new evidence of human existence that he'll need to erase.

Will you come back? The question terrifies and exhilarates him.

(come,come you have to comeback)

He should pray you don't. Should beg whatever god might listen to keep you away from his dirty corner of Paris. Away from his contaminated existence.

Instead, he finds himself hoping. Desperately, pathetically hoping.

The bruises on his arm throb in time with his pulse. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Evidence that yesterday was real. That you were real.

That maybe, just maybe, you'll be real again today.

Persistent. 

The word hangs in stale office air. Taehyung's fingers twitch against his thigh.

Twenty-six tiles. Wrong number. Wrong pattern. Wrong room. His eyes trace the edges where white grout meets ceramic, counting again in case he missed one. Twenty-six. Still wrong.

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

"Taehyung? I asked if your contamination fears are still persisting."

Dr. Bernard's voice is distant as a radio playing three rooms away as it filters through the fog. The man sits across from him, pen poised over a notepad that's seen too many patients. His colorful socks peek beneath gray trousers—today they're yellow with small blue bicycles. 

Taehyung notices this instead of meeting his eyes.

"Yes." The word scrapes his throat. Dry. Unused. 

How long has he been sitting here?

"And the medication? You're taking it regularly?"

Taehyung nods. 

Paroxetine. Forty milligrams. White oval pill. Bitter when it touches his tongue if he doesn't swallow fast enough. He takes it every morning at 7:07. Never 7:06. Never 7:08.

(seven seven seven)

"Good, good." Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper like insects crawling. "And the cleaning rituals? Any improvement there?"

Twenty-six tiles. 

The pattern is wrong. 

If he could just add two more, it would be twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect. 

His fingers curl into his palm, nails digging half-moons.

"About the same."

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not an impatient sigh. A tired one. The sigh of a man with sixty-three other patients. Taehyung counted the files once when the secretary stepped away. Sixty-four including him. Too many. Not enough time.

"You mentioned last time you were using bleach on your hands again." Dr. Bernard taps his pen against the notepad. 

Tap-tap-tap. 

Not seven taps. Irregular. Unpredictable. 

“Is that still happening?"

The bleach burns. Burns means clean. Clean means safe. Safe means—

(he won't contaminate you)

Taehyung blinks.

Where did that thought come from?

"Sometimes." His voice sounds hollow even to himself. "When it's necessary."

Dr. Bernard's glasses slip down his nose. He pushes them up with his middle finger, a gesture Taehyung has seen forty-seven times in their sessions together. 

Always the middle finger. Never the index. Never the thumb.

"And what makes it necessary, Taehyung?"

You. Your perfect skin. Your clean leotard. The way you move like water, untouched by the filth of this city.

But he can't say that. Hasn't told Dr. Bernard about you. About the mirror. About the convenience store. About yesterday when you spoke to him and the world tilted on its axis.

"Dirt." The answer is inadequate. He knows this. "Contamination."

Dr. Bernard waits for more. The clock on the wall ticks. Not seven ticks per minute. Sixty. 

Wrong number.

"I see." Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And have there been any changes in your routine lately? Anything new?"

You. 

You are new. You with your rose-macaron scent and perfect posture. You who looked at him—really looked—and didn't immediately turn away.

"No." The lie tastes metallic.

"Taehyung." Dr. Bernard sets his pen down. Leans forward slightly. His chair creaks. "We've been meeting for three years now. I'd like to think I know when something's changed."

Three years. Thirty-six months. Not a multiple of seven. 

Wrong.

"Nothing important." Another lie.

Through the thin wall, he hears another doctor's voice. A woman laughing. Someone crying. The Centre Médico-Psychologique never has enough space, enough privacy, enough time. His forty-five minutes will end in seventeen more. Then Dr. Bernard will see someone else. Someone whose problems might be fixable.

"I've increased your sessions on your Carte Vitale authorization." Dr. Bernard slides a paper across the desk. "Twice monthly instead of once. I think it could help."

Taehyung stares at the paper. The government seal. The stamps. The signature. 

So much bureaucracy to fix a broken mind. 

As if more sessions in this room with twenty-six tiles will stop him from scrubbing his skin raw after thinking of you.

"Thank you." 

He doesn't reach for the paper. His hands are dirty. Always dirty.

Dr. Bernard's phone buzzes. He glances at it, then back at Taehyung. 

“I'm sorry, I need to take this. Just a moment."

As Dr. Bernard steps outside, Taehyung's eyes drift back to the floor. 

Twenty-six tiles. He could fix it. Break two into halves. Make twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect.

(break them break them make it right)

His foot hovers over the tile nearest his chair. One stomp might crack it. 

Fix the pattern. Fix the room. Fix him.

But he doesn't move. Just counts again. And again. And again.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

Dr. Bernard returns, tucking his phone away. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

Taehyung's foot settles back on the floor. Twenty-six tiles. Still wrong. Still broken.

Like him.

"They're wrong."

The words escape before Taehyung can swallow them back. His tongue feels thick, disconnected from his brain.

Dr. Bernard leans forward. "What's wrong, Taehyung?"

"The tiles." His finger points downward, trembling. "Twenty-six. Wrong number."

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

Dr. Bernard follows his gaze to the floor, brow furrowing. Understanding dawns slowly across his face. He sets his notepad aside and kneels, running a finger along the grout lines.

"The tiles—there are twenty-six. Should be twenty-eight." Taehyung's voice cracks. "Seven times four. Or at least twenty-seven. Has a seven in it." 

His heel bounces against the floor. Up-down-up-down. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. The rhythm keeps him tethered when his mind threatens to float away.

Dr. Bernard stands, retrieving a black marker from his desk. Without hesitation, he kneels again and draws a thick line across one tile, dividing it neatly in half.

"There," he says. "Twenty-seven tiles now. Contains a seven."

The marker squeaks against ceramic. 

The line isn't perfectly straight. 

Doesn't matter. 

The number matters. Twenty-seven. Has a seven. Better.

Taehyung's breathing slows. The pressure behind his eyes eases.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Bernard says, returning to his chair. "I've been seeing you for three years. I should have noticed sooner." 

He gestures vaguely around the room. 

“They just changed my office last month. I didn't think to count the tiles before you came in."

Three years. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six sessions. And Dr. Bernard still doesn't understand that everything must be counted. Everything must be checked. Everything must be right.

But he tried. He fixed it. Drew a line. Made twenty-seven.

(better better better not perfect but better)

"Thank you," Taehyung whispers.

Dr. Bernard nods, uncapping his pen again. 

"You mentioned nothing had changed in your routine. But something in your face tells me otherwise." His voice softens. "Sometimes change can trigger episodes like this. Even good changes."

Taehyung's fingers find each other, twisting. Counting knuckles. 

"I found something." The words feel strange in his mouth. Heavy. Dangerous.

Dr. Bernard waits. Patient. 

The clock ticks. The newly-divided tile stares up at them both.

"A window." Taehyung continues. "At work. Behind the storage room."

"At the convenience store?"

Taehyung nods. "Two days ago. Needed cleaning supplies. Went to the back room. Not the main storage. The other one. Where they keep replacements."

His sentences fragment. Break apart like the tile on the floor. 

He can't help it. 

The memory is too bright, too sharp.

"Nobody goes there. Dusty. Dirty."

(filthy filthy filthy)

"And you found a window?" Dr. Bernard prompts.

"Not a window. A mirror." Taehyung's throat constricts. "But it's not a mirror. It's a window. One-way. Looks into the building next door."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. "The building next door to your store is...?"

"Ballet academy." The word 'ballet' feels sacred on his tongue. Too pure for his mouth. "Practice room. Empty usually. But not that day."

His heartbeat accelerates. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

Faster now. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

"Someone was there?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung closes his eyes. Sees you immediately. Your reflection in the mirror as you practiced. Arms extended. Back straight. Perfect. Clean. Untouchable.

"A dancer." 

He can't bring himself to say more. Can't describe the way you moved like water. 

The way your reflection caught in the dirty glass and somehow remained untainted. 

The way he stood, frozen, watching for twenty-seven minutes before his manager called his name.

"I see." Dr. Bernard makes another note. "And this discovery upset your routine?"

Upset. Such a small word for the earthquake that destroyed his carefully constructed world.

"I went back. Yesterday." The confession burns his throat. "After work. Before closing."

Dr. Bernard nods encouragingly. "To see this dancer again?"

Taehyung's nails dig into his palms. "Yes."

"And did you?"

The memory floods back. Not through the mirror this time. Face to face. 

You, entering the convenience store minutes before closing. 

You, scanning shelves with precise movements. 

(dirty dirty dirty can't touch can't let you touch)

"Yes." His voice barely audible now. "She came into the store."

The pronoun feels wrong. Inadequate. You are not a 'she.' You are something else. Something more. Something clean in a filthy world.

"Did you speak to her?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes again. "She spoke to me."

The memory of your voice makes his skin prickle. Cut glass. Winter air. Perfect diction.

"What did she say?"

"Asked why I was helping her." His eyes find the divided tile again. Twenty-seven now. Better. "I picked up her cotton pads. Found her a new package. Undamaged one."

Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And how did that make you feel? This interaction?"

Feel? How could he possibly explain? 

The terror. The exhilaration. The certainty that he was contaminating something perfect just by existing in your presence.

"Wrong," he finally says. "I felt wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"Dirty." The word tastes like copper. "She's clean. Perfect. I'm..." 

He gestures at himself. His stained uniform. His raw hands. His existence.

"Taehyung, have you ever heard of religious scrupulosity?"

The question hangs in the air. Taehyung's fingers freeze mid-count against his thigh.

"It's a form of OCD where someone becomes fixated on moral or religious purity. They develop intense fears about contaminating sacred things or being unworthy in a spiritual sense."

Taehyung stares at the divided tile. Twenty-seven. 

His throat closes. Words retreat, curling back inside where they're safe.

(not religious not that simple not that)

Dr. Bernard waits. The silence stretches between them like a thread pulled too tight. When Taehyung doesn't respond, he tries again.

"I'm not suggesting this is exactly what's happening. Just that there might be similarities in how you're viewing this dancer."

Taehyung's jaw tightens. His teeth grind together. The sound fills his skull. Drowns out Dr. Bernard's voice. Drowns out everything except the memory of you. 

Perfect posture. Clean lines. Untouched by the filth surrounding you.

"She's just a person," Dr. Bernard says gently. "A talented dancer, perhaps, but human. Like everyone else."

Wrong. So wrong. 

You're not like everyone else. Not like him. Not dirty. Not broken. Not wrong.

Taehyung shakes his head. Once. Twice. 

Seven times.

"Taehyung?" Dr. Bernard leans forward. "Are you still with me?"

Words scatter like roaches when light hits them. He can't catch them. Can't form them. His tongue feels swollen, useless. He manages a nod.

"I'm not concerned about you seeing someone dance twice," Dr. Bernard clarifies. "That's perfectly normal. I'm interested in how intensely it seems to have affected you."

(not normal never normal nothing normal)

"You helped her pick up some cotton pads. That's a kind gesture, not contamination."

Taehyung's hands curl into fists. Dr. Bernard doesn't understand. Can't understand. Hasn't seen you. Hasn't felt the wrongness of his existence next to yours.

"Not..." The word scrapes his throat. "Not kind."

"No? What was it then?"

"Necessary." Another word claws its way out. "Had to."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper. Seven scratches. Taehyung counts them.

"Had to protect her from the dirty floor?"

Taehyung nods. His chest tightens. The room shrinks. Twenty-seven tiles. Focus on the tiles.

"Taehyung, I've known you for three years. Your contamination fears typically center on yourself—protecting yourself from outside dirt. This seems different."

Different. Yes. 

Everything is different now. The world tilted when he first saw you through that grimy one-way mirror. Tilted further when you walked into the store. Spoke to him. Looked at him.

"Let's back up," Dr. Bernard suggests. "Tell me about finding this mirror."

Taehyung's eyes close. Behind them, he sees the storage room. Dust motes floating in stale air. Cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly. The wall that wasn't a wall.

"Cleaning." His voice barely audible. "Needed bleach."

"For the store?"

A nod.

"And you found this mirror in the storage room?"

"Back room." The distinction matters. "Not main storage. Nobody goes there."

"And through this mirror, you could see into the ballet academy next door?"

"Practice room." The words come easier now. Focused on facts. Not feelings. "Empty usually. But not then."

"And you saw this dancer practicing."

"Yes."

"For how long did you watch?"

Taehyung's fingers twitch. "Twenty-seven minutes." 

The truth slips out before he can stop it.

Dr. Bernard's eyebrows rise slightly. "You counted?"

"Always count." 

"And then what happened?"

"Manager called. Had to go back."

"But you returned the next day?"

Shame burns his cheeks. He nods.

"And then she came into your store?"

"Before closing." The memory floods back. "Accident."

"The cotton pads?"

"Yes."

"And you helped her."

"Had to." His voice cracks. "Floor is dirty. She's not."

Dr. Bernard studies him. "Taehyung, when was the last time you spoke to someone outside of work or these sessions?"

The question catches him off guard. He blinks. Tries to remember. Can't.

"This connection you feel—" Dr. Bernard chooses his words carefully "—it might be intensified by isolation. Human beings need interaction."

(not human not normal not worthy)

"I'm not suggesting anything inappropriate is happening," Dr. Bernard continues. "Just that your reaction seems disproportionate to two brief encounters."

Disproportionate. As if there could be a proportionate response to witnessing divinity in a convenience store.

"She's clean," Taehyung whispers. The only truth that matters.

"Everyone seems clean to someone who feels contaminated, Taehyung."

Taehyung flinches. His vision tunnels. The twenty-seven tiles blur. His breathing quickens. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Too fast. Too shallow.

"I think we should focus on your isolation in our next session," Dr. Bernard says, glancing at the clock. "And perhaps revisit your medication dosage."

Taehyung doesn't respond. Can't. Words have abandoned him completely now. 

His mind retreats to the only safe place it knows—counting. Tiles. Breaths. Heartbeats. 

Seconds until he can leave this room with its wrong-then-fixed floor and return to his apartment where everything is arranged in sevens and nothing beautiful exists to be contaminated by his presence.

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not impatient. Sad. "Our time is almost up. Is there anything else you want to tell me about these encounters?"

Taehyung stares at his raw hands. 

What could he possibly say? That when you looked at him, really looked, something inside him recognized something inside you? That for one brief moment, he felt seen instead of invisible? That helping you felt like prayer?

He shakes his head.

"Alright." Dr. Bernard stands. "Same time in two weeks, then. And Taehyung?" He waits until Taehyung looks up. "Try to talk to someone. Anyone. Even just to ask the time or comment on the weather. Human connection matters."

Connection. 

As if someone like him could connect with anyone. 

Especially someone like you.

The session ends. Taehyung leaves without speaking again. Steps carefully over the divided tile. Twenty-seven now. Better. Not perfect.

Like him.

goal: 250 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @billy-jeans23 @calmyourtitts7

© jungkoode 2025. | banner and dividers by dailynnt

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[softhaes]

UNTIL I FOUND HER | kth (teaser)

⤷ part of the dads universe

⏤ pairing: football/soccer player!taehyung x female reader

⏤ genre: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ summary: taehyung is your best friend, he’s been part of your life for as long as you can remember. his love life is a complete chaos. there is only one girl he has truly ever loved. that girl is you. but how would things turn out when he finds out that you love him back?

⏤ author’s note: this is my little birthday gift for you all 🤗 i’m working on this amongst other things! i honestly can’t wait to post it ❤️ this is part of a universe that i’m definitely looking forward to work on & i just can’t wait to share with you all of this 😬 thanks a lot for all your support!!

⏤ tag list: let me know in anyway if you want to be tagged when i post this and if you are part of my permanent taglist, you will be automatically added ✨

[softhaes]

NUMB TO THE FEELING : Sex Tape — J.jk

★pairing : jeon jungkook + fem!reader

★genre : smut

★: not proof read! idol!readerandjk, mean dom!jk , sub!reader , whiney!jk , slight anal play, fellacio, recording, pda maybe? , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it.) doggy, hair pulling , name calling - lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 1,647

Pt.1 , Pt.3 [ can be read as a stand alone but I recommend reading the first part!]

A/N: HELLOOOO im back lololol this took sometime but i hope you like it! Not proof read btw! So there might be a lot of mistakes! PLSSSS EXCUSE ITTTT!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Jungkook was quick to capture your lips as you finished licking up his salty cum. His tongue forcefully entered your mouth. Hunger was laced all over the kiss. You involuntarily climbed onto his lap as the kiss deepened. Your hands holding his head as his hands started removing your now drenched shorts. You gave him the liberty and started leaving soft hickies on his neck. He held your neck in his grasp and pulled you away. You whined and he pressed the sides of your neck gently before speaking up. “Go get your polaroid. Now.” He commanded and you nodded like a good girl before rushing into your closet to get the polaroid he bought for you.

When you returned you saw jungkook sitting on the edge of your bed, stroking his hardening cock. His clothes were discarded. God he looked so hot. You walked up to him and handed the polaroid, immediately kneeling infront of his crotch as he turned on the polaroid.

You rested your forearms on his thighs, bringing your face closer to his dick, licking up from the underside to his tip, capturing the aching head in your mouth. Jungkook hissed and kept the polaroid beside him, finally giving you the attention. “Ngh-.. you are such a good girl..” he said while bringing the camera back to his vision. “Smile for the camera baby..” and you shamelessly did. You smiled widely with his dick in your mouth. “Perfect..” he mumbled, seeing the pretty picture of you finally appear. He kept them aside and grabbed your head, thrusting in harshly. You choked and gagged at the sudden action. He pushed your head down till your nose hit his base, pulling your head back up after a few seconds, watching as drool slip from your mouth. You gave him your puppy eyes and a small pout.

“Sorry baby..” he giggled before guiding your head back on his dick. “You are just so fucking irresistible.” He said while dragging your mouth all over his length. His grip on your hair tightened as your throat spasmed around his thick length. He pulled your head back and you let out a loud gasp and coughed, finally getting the chance to breathe. He grabbed you by your chin, forcefully making you look up at him. You stared into his eyes with your doe ones. A soft yet hard slap landed on your cheek before jungkook kissed your forehead.

Jungkook pulled you up on your feet by your hair and was quick to throw you onto the bed. Your face fell flat on the soft mattress, your ass jiggled at the impact, and on full display for jungkook. He stood at the foot of the bed and grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him. A harsh spank landed on your ass, a signal for you to get into your position. you obliged, very well knowing what he wanted at that moment. You felt the bed dip on one side as jungkook reached over to grab his phone. You heard the record button sound and before you could comprehend, jungkook was spreading your one of your ass cheeks, the camera focusing on your dripping wet cunt. He groaned at the site of your cunt clenching and unclenching. “Mind spreading that beauty for me more,baby?” Your hands immediately reached behind, grabbing the fatty flesh in your grasp and spreading it open for jungkook to get a perfect view of your perfect pussy. “Thats right…” he groaned as he dragged his middle and ring finger up and down your glistening slit. You moaned at the sensation. “That shit turning you on baby? Wait till i give you this dick…fucckkk-“ he said as his fingers dipped into your soaking wet pussy. Soft squelchs were audible and you squeezed around his thick fingers. He curled his fingers into your gspot which made you gasp and moan out loud. He knew exactly where to touch you. He chuckled darkly at your sounds. He pulled his fingers out spreading your wetness over your pussy lips and hole. You felt something warm drip down from your hole and to your pussy, jungkooks spit. “Extra lube..!” He chuckled once again. You let out a loud whine, getting tired of his foreplay. “Mhmmm…i hear you sweetheart” he says while continuing to tease both of your holes, fingers threatening to dip into one of them. “Jungkookie….” You whine out again hoping this time he will give you his dick. “Alright alright…”. His tip pokes at your entrance. “Shits still tight.. gaah-“ he chokes at as he pushes into your sopping cunt. You moan loudly as he keeps pushing himself into you. Its been a while since you got pounded by this giant. “Please..please..please…fuckkkk” you kept babbling nonsenses as he bottomed out in you. A loud gasp left both of your mouths. Jungkook finding it hard to focus his camera on your pussy as the feeling of you wrapped around him takes over. He collects himself up before slowly moving in and out of you. The camera focusing on how your ass ripples every time you come in contact with his pelvis. His unoccupied hand on your lower back, guiding your hips back and worth. The pace starts off slow. Bunch of ‘fucks’ ‘oh yeahs’ and Moans were thrown around the room as your pussy spasmed around his length.

Jungkook leaned over again, placing the camera on the nightstand, balancing it on the lamp placed on table. In this new pov everything could be seen. Your perfect back arch and fucked face was on full display and most importantly the new angle showed how good he fucked you. His hips picked up pace. Hands now gripping your waist tightly. Your head was resting in your arms, eyes rolling back as he kept fucking into you. He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your head back,as he leaned forward. Your eyes and his meet, he kissed your forehead as his pace started increasing. You stared up at him as he went in and out of your pussy in an inhumane speed. Loud gasps and choked out moans were leaving your mouth. “Feel good baby yeah? You like it when i fuck you like this dont you? How many people have fucked you after me huh? No one. I know. Cus you are my cockslut. My fucking pussy. Only for mine to breed and wreck. Got that baby? Can your dumb little whore brain understand that?” He was telling nonsense at this point and you just nodded at his words. “Fuckkkkkk…..-“ you let out a loud moan. “Thats right… moan louder bitch. Im gonna make you cry on this cock, thats the only thing you’re fit for.” He says before pushing your head down with his hand. Tears and drool started staining your pillows as he got faster and his thrusts got harder. Jungkook himself was a moaning mess, as your pussy sucked him in and out he couldn’t contain in his sounds. Incoherent words left his mouth nonstop which just turned you on even more. His pace slowed down a bit, before grabbing you by the nape of your neck. His hand wrapped around your neck tight, as he made you face the camera. “Look into the camera baby.. yeah thats right.. show them how fucked up i got you… you just love bouncing on my dick dont you love?” your eyes were tears stained and there was drool all over your face. Bangs sticking to your sweaty forehead and eyes not being able to focus on anything else but just jungkooks dick. He kissed your forehead again and kept fucking you into the mattress. His phone was able to capture the way your face contorted every time he thrusted into you. Your mouth falls open as his other hand landed on your throbbing clit. You let out a choked out cry as he abused your bud. “J-jungkook…im gonna c-cum..,,” you drop your head. “Go on doll.. cum all over my dick.” His movements on your clit increased as he helped you chase your high. You felt yourself crumbling as you came over his dick. White liquid gushed out of your cunt as he continued fucking you. His pelvic region was stained with your arousal. Jungkook felt himself getting closer to his own high as he watched you come undone. “Hang in there baby…” he said while continuously rutting his hips. You felt his dick twitch inside of you. He hunched over your fucked out body. Hands landing on either side of your head. “Fuckkk…i love you so much-..” his head dropped and his hip movement stopped as he finally spilled his cum inside you. Ropes after ropes. You could feel jungkooks hot breath on your neck as well as his quite moans and whines. “Ngh..-“ he let out his final whine before collapsing on you. Gasps and breathing sounds echoed throughout the now quiet room. Jungkook picked himself up, reaching over for his phone before standing upright. He tapped your side and you immediately lifted your ass up for him even though you were extremely tired. He once again focused his camera on your cunt as he pulled out – a white gush of his and your arousal came out and dripped down. He landed a soft slap on your ass. “Good fucking girl.”

The next day, you were watching the kbs livestream of jungkooks arrival at music bank since it was his comeback season and he was scheduled to perform at music bank that day. You watched the livestream eagerly before you see a black van park and then steps out your boyfriend, in all his glory. But something seemed different. His phone was in his hand and there was something familiar on it. On closer inspection your eyes widen at the picture. The polaroid from the night before.

A/n : HOPE IT WAS UP TO PARRRR! :33333 lol anyways ily! Thank you for reading! And happy new year!!

[softhaes]

ALTARS IN SHALLOW WATERS | 03

➔ PAIRING: Taehyung x Y/N (ballerina x stalker AU)

➔ MOODBOARD

➔ RATING: Mature, 18+, explicit themes and content.

➔ DATE POSTED: May 12, 2025.

➔ SUMMARY: Altars crumble faster in shallow water. But he still knelt like it was sacred. No one ever warned you that worship could look like love. Or that love could look like drowning.

➔ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, ballerina!Y/N, stalker!taehyung, obsessive devotion, psychological tension, fixation, worship dynamics, Paris setting, religious imagery, voyeurism, sacred/profane dichotomy, slow burn, touch starvation, ritualistic behavior, gradual corruption, power dynamics, mirror imagery, water symbolism, sensory details, clean/unclean fixation, contamination OCD, professional dancer, self-destructive patterns, compulsive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive tendencies, praise addiction, spiritual yearning, toxic attraction, dangerous adoration, self-loathing, body discipline, mental health issues, self-harm, mental deterioration, unresolved sexual tension (for now).

➔ CONTENT in this chapter: bruising, self punishing, self harm, cleansing one self, ocd portrayal, stressful situations, psych sessions, public healthcare portrayal in the mental health realm

➔ AUTHOR’S INTRO AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

➔ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,6k

➔ A/N: HELLO. WELCOME BACK TO THIS NIGHTMARE. Kiki Nation is THRIVING. And by thriving, I mean crumbling under the weight of my own pacing choices. That’s right. You thought you were getting plot? ACTION? MOVEMENT? Wake up, babe. This is Kiki Nation, and here? We move like anxiety on a Sunday night—slow, painful, and entirely internal. But listen… listen. Jokes aside (kind of), this chapter is actually doing a lot even if it looks like nothing is happening. I love writing scenes like this because, while it feels still on the surface, the psychological current is raging underneath. What’s being said without being said? What’s slipping through the cracks? What isn’t Taehyung allowing himself to articulate because if he did, it would crack him open? That’s what this is about. It’s tension. It’s claustrophobia. It’s the mind eating itself alive. We’re diving deep into the obsessive-compulsive loops here—realistic ones. I researched this thoroughly, not only as someone who lives with neurodivergence, but as someone who respects how complex OCD truly is. It’s not just “I like things clean” or “haha I’m quirky about numbers.” OCD is a deeply distressing, all-consuming, reality-warping condition that demands ritual to relieve unbearable tension, even when you know it makes no logical sense. You KNOW it’s irrational. That’s the point. But the alternative feels worse. And that’s what I wanted to capture. The thing about trauma—especially when you’re neurodivergent—is that your brain will cling to anything that feels controllable when real life becomes overwhelming. And sometimes, those fixations grow teeth. What starts as “I need to clean this” becomes “If I don’t, I am disgusting. I am dangerous. I will harm something I care about.” That’s not aesthetic. That’s hell. And yeah… Dr. Bernard trying so hard but still being limited by time, funding, caseloads… It’s a subtle nod to the very real way public healthcare systems stretch mental health care to its absolute breaking point. Because if Taehyung had money? He’d have private therapy, trauma-informed care, daily support. But no. He gets 45 minutes in a tile-counting room twice a month and a prescription that might not even be enough. It’s not fair, and that’s kind of the point. For legal reasons, this is a joke!!! 🥰 (But is it?) So yeah. I hope you’re paying attention to the mirror. The numbers. The language he uses. The way he doesn’t trust reality itself. There’s a reason this chapter feels repetitive. There’s a reason he keeps looping. And if you felt trapped reading it—good. You’re right where I wanted you. (affectionate)Thank you for reading and for trusting me to tell a story that digs a little deeper than surface-level trauma bait. Your comments and support mean everything to me. I read every single one. See you in the next chapter where… oh. Oh no. Yeah. See you there. (awkward finger guns)

➔ SERIES : PREVIOUS | NEXT

KIKI NATION’S DISCUSSION THREAD FOR THIS CHAPTER

PLAYLIST

Purple blooms beneath thumb pad. 

Bruises beneath his finger.

Taehyung presses harder, watching skin darken under pressure. 

Pain flares, then dulls. Not enough. Never enough to convince himself that yesterday was real.

He sits on the edge of his mattress, counting breaths. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

The apartment smells of bleach and nothing else. 

(bleach, he needs to bleach the r—bleach—it’s dirty, he needs bleach)

No food. No life. Just chemical purity and the faint must of walls that never fully dry.

You were there. In his store. Breathing his air.

(impossible impossible impossible)

His fingers find another patch of unmarked skin along his forearm. 

Pinch. Twist. Hold until capillaries burst and blood pools beneath the surface. 

The pain grounds him in reality, but reality itself has become suspect.

How could you exist in the same grimy corner of Paris where he scrubs floors and straightens shelves? How could something so clean touch something so dirty?

Your scent lingers in his memory—sweet almond, rose, powdered sugar. 

Macarons. 

(macarons, macaronsmacaronsmacarons)

The kind sold in patisseries where everything costs too much and the staff watches him like he might pocket something.

He's never wanted macarons before. Never craved anything sweet.

Now his mouth waters at the memory.

(disgusting filthy unworthy)

Seven new bruises track up his arm like stepping stones. 

Evidence that he exists. That yesterday existed. That you might have seen him—really seen him—even through the curtain of hair he uses to hide.

The thought makes his stomach lurch.

He stumbles to the bathroom, falls to his knees before the toilet. Nothing comes up. He hasn't eaten since yesterday morning. Just water. Just enough to keep his body functioning.

The tile is cold against his forehead as he counts again. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. Again. Until the nausea passes.

You'd asked him a question. Spoken directly to him. Your voice precise as cut glass.

‘Why are you helping me?’

He hadn't answered. Couldn't answer. What could he possibly say?

Because your knees shouldn't touch this filthy floor.

Because you're too perfect for this place.

Because I'm not worthy to watch you bend.

The memory of your cotton pads—the dented package he'd first grabbed, the horror that had seized him when he saw the imperfection—makes his fingers twitch. He'd found you a perfect one. Undamaged. Clean. 

It mattered so much in that moment, more than breathing.

He drags himself up from the bathroom floor. Crosses to the sink. Turns the water as hot as it will go and plunges his hands beneath the stream.

The burn is good. Clean. Skin reddens instantly.

He scrubs with the rough side of a sponge until his palms are raw. Until he can't feel the phantom touch of the cotton pad package he handed you. Until he can't remember the way your fingers almost—almost—brushed his gloved ones.

Gloves. He'd been wearing gloves. Thank god. Thank god.

(still dirty still contaminated still worthless)

The mirror above his sink is spotless. He keeps it that way, though he rarely looks into it. Now he forces himself to meet his own eyes.

Dark circles. Hollow cheeks. Hair too long, falling across his face in messy blindish waves.

He looks like a ghost. A shadow. Nothing substantial enough to exist in your world.

Yet you'd looked at him. Tried to see his face. Asked him a question in that voice like winter air.

His stomach clenches again, but differently. Not nausea this time. Something worse. Something like hunger, but not for food.

Macarons.

The word loops in his mind, sweet and forbidden. He wants to taste them now. Wants to know if they taste like you smell. Wants to dissolve them on his tongue and pretend he's breathing the same air that touches your skin.

The thought is so profane it makes him dizzy.

He stumbles back to his bed. Sits on the edge again. Pinches another spot on his arm, harder this time. The pain blooms bright, then fades too quickly.

You'd looked back at him from the doorway. Caught him watching. Your eyes narrowed slightly, calculating. Seeing.

No one sees him. No one notices. He's made sure of it for years.

But you had.

His phone buzzes. Work in an hour. The convenience store waits, its floors already collecting new grime, new evidence of human existence that he'll need to erase.

Will you come back? The question terrifies and exhilarates him.

(come,come you have to comeback)

He should pray you don't. Should beg whatever god might listen to keep you away from his dirty corner of Paris. Away from his contaminated existence.

Instead, he finds himself hoping. Desperately, pathetically hoping.

The bruises on his arm throb in time with his pulse. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Evidence that yesterday was real. That you were real.

That maybe, just maybe, you'll be real again today.

Persistent. 

The word hangs in stale office air. Taehyung's fingers twitch against his thigh.

Twenty-six tiles. Wrong number. Wrong pattern. Wrong room. His eyes trace the edges where white grout meets ceramic, counting again in case he missed one. Twenty-six. Still wrong.

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

"Taehyung? I asked if your contamination fears are still persisting."

Dr. Bernard's voice is distant as a radio playing three rooms away as it filters through the fog. The man sits across from him, pen poised over a notepad that's seen too many patients. His colorful socks peek beneath gray trousers—today they're yellow with small blue bicycles. 

Taehyung notices this instead of meeting his eyes.

"Yes." The word scrapes his throat. Dry. Unused. 

How long has he been sitting here?

"And the medication? You're taking it regularly?"

Taehyung nods. 

Paroxetine. Forty milligrams. White oval pill. Bitter when it touches his tongue if he doesn't swallow fast enough. He takes it every morning at 7:07. Never 7:06. Never 7:08.

(seven seven seven)

"Good, good." Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper like insects crawling. "And the cleaning rituals? Any improvement there?"

Twenty-six tiles. 

The pattern is wrong. 

If he could just add two more, it would be twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect. 

His fingers curl into his palm, nails digging half-moons.

"About the same."

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not an impatient sigh. A tired one. The sigh of a man with sixty-three other patients. Taehyung counted the files once when the secretary stepped away. Sixty-four including him. Too many. Not enough time.

"You mentioned last time you were using bleach on your hands again." Dr. Bernard taps his pen against the notepad. 

Tap-tap-tap. 

Not seven taps. Irregular. Unpredictable. 

“Is that still happening?"

The bleach burns. Burns means clean. Clean means safe. Safe means—

(he won't contaminate you)

Taehyung blinks.

Where did that thought come from?

"Sometimes." His voice sounds hollow even to himself. "When it's necessary."

Dr. Bernard's glasses slip down his nose. He pushes them up with his middle finger, a gesture Taehyung has seen forty-seven times in their sessions together. 

Always the middle finger. Never the index. Never the thumb.

"And what makes it necessary, Taehyung?"

You. Your perfect skin. Your clean leotard. The way you move like water, untouched by the filth of this city.

But he can't say that. Hasn't told Dr. Bernard about you. About the mirror. About the convenience store. About yesterday when you spoke to him and the world tilted on its axis.

"Dirt." The answer is inadequate. He knows this. "Contamination."

Dr. Bernard waits for more. The clock on the wall ticks. Not seven ticks per minute. Sixty. 

Wrong number.

"I see." Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And have there been any changes in your routine lately? Anything new?"

You. 

You are new. You with your rose-macaron scent and perfect posture. You who looked at him—really looked—and didn't immediately turn away.

"No." The lie tastes metallic.

"Taehyung." Dr. Bernard sets his pen down. Leans forward slightly. His chair creaks. "We've been meeting for three years now. I'd like to think I know when something's changed."

Three years. Thirty-six months. Not a multiple of seven. 

Wrong.

"Nothing important." Another lie.

Through the thin wall, he hears another doctor's voice. A woman laughing. Someone crying. The Centre Médico-Psychologique never has enough space, enough privacy, enough time. His forty-five minutes will end in seventeen more. Then Dr. Bernard will see someone else. Someone whose problems might be fixable.

"I've increased your sessions on your Carte Vitale authorization." Dr. Bernard slides a paper across the desk. "Twice monthly instead of once. I think it could help."

Taehyung stares at the paper. The government seal. The stamps. The signature. 

So much bureaucracy to fix a broken mind. 

As if more sessions in this room with twenty-six tiles will stop him from scrubbing his skin raw after thinking of you.

"Thank you." 

He doesn't reach for the paper. His hands are dirty. Always dirty.

Dr. Bernard's phone buzzes. He glances at it, then back at Taehyung. 

“I'm sorry, I need to take this. Just a moment."

As Dr. Bernard steps outside, Taehyung's eyes drift back to the floor. 

Twenty-six tiles. He could fix it. Break two into halves. Make twenty-eight. Seven times four. Perfect.

(break them break them make it right)

His foot hovers over the tile nearest his chair. One stomp might crack it. 

Fix the pattern. Fix the room. Fix him.

But he doesn't move. Just counts again. And again. And again.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

Dr. Bernard returns, tucking his phone away. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

Taehyung's foot settles back on the floor. Twenty-six tiles. Still wrong. Still broken.

Like him.

"They're wrong."

The words escape before Taehyung can swallow them back. His tongue feels thick, disconnected from his brain.

Dr. Bernard leans forward. "What's wrong, Taehyung?"

"The tiles." His finger points downward, trembling. "Twenty-six. Wrong number."

(wrong wrong wrong fix it fix it)

Dr. Bernard follows his gaze to the floor, brow furrowing. Understanding dawns slowly across his face. He sets his notepad aside and kneels, running a finger along the grout lines.

"The tiles—there are twenty-six. Should be twenty-eight." Taehyung's voice cracks. "Seven times four. Or at least twenty-seven. Has a seven in it." 

His heel bounces against the floor. Up-down-up-down. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Again. The rhythm keeps him tethered when his mind threatens to float away.

Dr. Bernard stands, retrieving a black marker from his desk. Without hesitation, he kneels again and draws a thick line across one tile, dividing it neatly in half.

"There," he says. "Twenty-seven tiles now. Contains a seven."

The marker squeaks against ceramic. 

The line isn't perfectly straight. 

Doesn't matter. 

The number matters. Twenty-seven. Has a seven. Better.

Taehyung's breathing slows. The pressure behind his eyes eases.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Bernard says, returning to his chair. "I've been seeing you for three years. I should have noticed sooner." 

He gestures vaguely around the room. 

“They just changed my office last month. I didn't think to count the tiles before you came in."

Three years. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six sessions. And Dr. Bernard still doesn't understand that everything must be counted. Everything must be checked. Everything must be right.

But he tried. He fixed it. Drew a line. Made twenty-seven.

(better better better not perfect but better)

"Thank you," Taehyung whispers.

Dr. Bernard nods, uncapping his pen again. 

"You mentioned nothing had changed in your routine. But something in your face tells me otherwise." His voice softens. "Sometimes change can trigger episodes like this. Even good changes."

Taehyung's fingers find each other, twisting. Counting knuckles. 

"I found something." The words feel strange in his mouth. Heavy. Dangerous.

Dr. Bernard waits. Patient. 

The clock ticks. The newly-divided tile stares up at them both.

"A window." Taehyung continues. "At work. Behind the storage room."

"At the convenience store?"

Taehyung nods. "Two days ago. Needed cleaning supplies. Went to the back room. Not the main storage. The other one. Where they keep replacements."

His sentences fragment. Break apart like the tile on the floor. 

He can't help it. 

The memory is too bright, too sharp.

"Nobody goes there. Dusty. Dirty."

(filthy filthy filthy)

"And you found a window?" Dr. Bernard prompts.

"Not a window. A mirror." Taehyung's throat constricts. "But it's not a mirror. It's a window. One-way. Looks into the building next door."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. "The building next door to your store is...?"

"Ballet academy." The word 'ballet' feels sacred on his tongue. Too pure for his mouth. "Practice room. Empty usually. But not that day."

His heartbeat accelerates. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. 

Faster now. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.

"Someone was there?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung closes his eyes. Sees you immediately. Your reflection in the mirror as you practiced. Arms extended. Back straight. Perfect. Clean. Untouchable.

"A dancer." 

He can't bring himself to say more. Can't describe the way you moved like water. 

The way your reflection caught in the dirty glass and somehow remained untainted. 

The way he stood, frozen, watching for twenty-seven minutes before his manager called his name.

"I see." Dr. Bernard makes another note. "And this discovery upset your routine?"

Upset. Such a small word for the earthquake that destroyed his carefully constructed world.

"I went back. Yesterday." The confession burns his throat. "After work. Before closing."

Dr. Bernard nods encouragingly. "To see this dancer again?"

Taehyung's nails dig into his palms. "Yes."

"And did you?"

The memory floods back. Not through the mirror this time. Face to face. 

You, entering the convenience store minutes before closing. 

You, scanning shelves with precise movements. 

(dirty dirty dirty can't touch can't let you touch)

"Yes." His voice barely audible now. "She came into the store."

The pronoun feels wrong. Inadequate. You are not a 'she.' You are something else. Something more. Something clean in a filthy world.

"Did you speak to her?" Dr. Bernard asks.

Taehyung shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes again. "She spoke to me."

The memory of your voice makes his skin prickle. Cut glass. Winter air. Perfect diction.

"What did she say?"

"Asked why I was helping her." His eyes find the divided tile again. Twenty-seven now. Better. "I picked up her cotton pads. Found her a new package. Undamaged one."

Dr. Bernard writes something down. "And how did that make you feel? This interaction?"

Feel? How could he possibly explain? 

The terror. The exhilaration. The certainty that he was contaminating something perfect just by existing in your presence.

"Wrong," he finally says. "I felt wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"Dirty." The word tastes like copper. "She's clean. Perfect. I'm..." 

He gestures at himself. His stained uniform. His raw hands. His existence.

"Taehyung, have you ever heard of religious scrupulosity?"

The question hangs in the air. Taehyung's fingers freeze mid-count against his thigh.

"It's a form of OCD where someone becomes fixated on moral or religious purity. They develop intense fears about contaminating sacred things or being unworthy in a spiritual sense."

Taehyung stares at the divided tile. Twenty-seven. 

His throat closes. Words retreat, curling back inside where they're safe.

(not religious not that simple not that)

Dr. Bernard waits. The silence stretches between them like a thread pulled too tight. When Taehyung doesn't respond, he tries again.

"I'm not suggesting this is exactly what's happening. Just that there might be similarities in how you're viewing this dancer."

Taehyung's jaw tightens. His teeth grind together. The sound fills his skull. Drowns out Dr. Bernard's voice. Drowns out everything except the memory of you. 

Perfect posture. Clean lines. Untouched by the filth surrounding you.

"She's just a person," Dr. Bernard says gently. "A talented dancer, perhaps, but human. Like everyone else."

Wrong. So wrong. 

You're not like everyone else. Not like him. Not dirty. Not broken. Not wrong.

Taehyung shakes his head. Once. Twice. 

Seven times.

"Taehyung?" Dr. Bernard leans forward. "Are you still with me?"

Words scatter like roaches when light hits them. He can't catch them. Can't form them. His tongue feels swollen, useless. He manages a nod.

"I'm not concerned about you seeing someone dance twice," Dr. Bernard clarifies. "That's perfectly normal. I'm interested in how intensely it seems to have affected you."

(not normal never normal nothing normal)

"You helped her pick up some cotton pads. That's a kind gesture, not contamination."

Taehyung's hands curl into fists. Dr. Bernard doesn't understand. Can't understand. Hasn't seen you. Hasn't felt the wrongness of his existence next to yours.

"Not..." The word scrapes his throat. "Not kind."

"No? What was it then?"

"Necessary." Another word claws its way out. "Had to."

Dr. Bernard makes a note. The pen scratches paper. Seven scratches. Taehyung counts them.

"Had to protect her from the dirty floor?"

Taehyung nods. His chest tightens. The room shrinks. Twenty-seven tiles. Focus on the tiles.

"Taehyung, I've known you for three years. Your contamination fears typically center on yourself—protecting yourself from outside dirt. This seems different."

Different. Yes. 

Everything is different now. The world tilted when he first saw you through that grimy one-way mirror. Tilted further when you walked into the store. Spoke to him. Looked at him.

"Let's back up," Dr. Bernard suggests. "Tell me about finding this mirror."

Taehyung's eyes close. Behind them, he sees the storage room. Dust motes floating in stale air. Cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly. The wall that wasn't a wall.

"Cleaning." His voice barely audible. "Needed bleach."

"For the store?"

A nod.

"And you found this mirror in the storage room?"

"Back room." The distinction matters. "Not main storage. Nobody goes there."

"And through this mirror, you could see into the ballet academy next door?"

"Practice room." The words come easier now. Focused on facts. Not feelings. "Empty usually. But not then."

"And you saw this dancer practicing."

"Yes."

"For how long did you watch?"

Taehyung's fingers twitch. "Twenty-seven minutes." 

The truth slips out before he can stop it.

Dr. Bernard's eyebrows rise slightly. "You counted?"

"Always count." 

"And then what happened?"

"Manager called. Had to go back."

"But you returned the next day?"

Shame burns his cheeks. He nods.

"And then she came into your store?"

"Before closing." The memory floods back. "Accident."

"The cotton pads?"

"Yes."

"And you helped her."

"Had to." His voice cracks. "Floor is dirty. She's not."

Dr. Bernard studies him. "Taehyung, when was the last time you spoke to someone outside of work or these sessions?"

The question catches him off guard. He blinks. Tries to remember. Can't.

"This connection you feel—" Dr. Bernard chooses his words carefully "—it might be intensified by isolation. Human beings need interaction."

(not human not normal not worthy)

"I'm not suggesting anything inappropriate is happening," Dr. Bernard continues. "Just that your reaction seems disproportionate to two brief encounters."

Disproportionate. As if there could be a proportionate response to witnessing divinity in a convenience store.

"She's clean," Taehyung whispers. The only truth that matters.

"Everyone seems clean to someone who feels contaminated, Taehyung."

Taehyung flinches. His vision tunnels. The twenty-seven tiles blur. His breathing quickens. 

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Too fast. Too shallow.

"I think we should focus on your isolation in our next session," Dr. Bernard says, glancing at the clock. "And perhaps revisit your medication dosage."

Taehyung doesn't respond. Can't. Words have abandoned him completely now. 

His mind retreats to the only safe place it knows—counting. Tiles. Breaths. Heartbeats. 

Seconds until he can leave this room with its wrong-then-fixed floor and return to his apartment where everything is arranged in sevens and nothing beautiful exists to be contaminated by his presence.

Dr. Bernard sighs. Not impatient. Sad. "Our time is almost up. Is there anything else you want to tell me about these encounters?"

Taehyung stares at his raw hands. 

What could he possibly say? That when you looked at him, really looked, something inside him recognized something inside you? That for one brief moment, he felt seen instead of invisible? That helping you felt like prayer?

He shakes his head.

"Alright." Dr. Bernard stands. "Same time in two weeks, then. And Taehyung?" He waits until Taehyung looks up. "Try to talk to someone. Anyone. Even just to ask the time or comment on the weather. Human connection matters."

Connection. 

As if someone like him could connect with anyone. 

Especially someone like you.

The session ends. Taehyung leaves without speaking again. Steps carefully over the divided tile. Twenty-seven now. Better. Not perfect.

Like him.

goal: 250 notes

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[softhaes]

Deep Sleep ❣️🔪

Yandere!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, YANDERE, somnephilia, fingering, Soft sex, DUB CON

——————————————————————

He watched as your peacefully slept, your chest slowly rose with every breath. Taehyung ran his fingers across your lips and down your chest. You must be exhausted; you did not budge.

Oh how badly he wanted you to be his. It wasn’t so much that you rejected him; you actually rarely spoke to him and there wasn’t any particular reason for that, it’s just that he was too awkward to approach you.

But Taehyung has been stalking you for a while. He wants to learn everything about you before approaching you. He wants to impress you and get you to fall for him.

Sometimes he can’t help himself. He had copied your house key and often let himself in. Mostly just to watch, just like tonight.

He couldn’t help feeling a bit needy. He wanted to show you his love so very badly. He feels like he needs to.

Slowly, Taehyung lowered the sheets that covered you and again, you did not stir.

“My love…” he whispered. “Surely you wouldn’t mind… you are mine after all…”

The man gently removed your pants, moving his pointer and middle fingers in circles along your underwear, leaving behind a growing wet spot.

While you didn’t move, a small moan did escape your lips. Taehyung found it adorable and lowered himself to give a kiss over said wet spot. Once satisfied he lowered the undergarment and watched as the clear sticky substance parted between you and the material, leaving your cunt free and vulnerable just for him.

He ran his finger across your slit and rubbed circles on your clit. This made you gasp in your sleep and move slightly. These pleasurable menstruations made their way to your dreams, perhaps just another wet dream, that is, until he slipped in two fingers.

You moaned a bit louder, your legs closing shut.

“No no darling, let’s not do that.” Taehyung whispered. “Open them.”

In your drowsy and sleepy state, you obeyed; after all, it was a dream right?

Taehyung slowly moved his fingers in and out. Breathy moans escaped your lips.

Once he felt you were prepped enough, the man pulled his fingers out and removed his pants, teasing your hole with his cock, making you whimper.

“Darling, do you want my cock?” He whispered softly in your ear. “You want me to love you, right?”

“Mmhm…” you mumbled in your sleep.

“You want me, right?”

“Mmhm~” you moaned again still in your sleepy state.

Taehyung smiled and entered you, relishing in your tight walls hugging him.

You whined and whimpered at the feeling. He was big and you simply felt stuffed and overwhelmed.

Your eyelids fluttered and the man put his hand over them to block your vision.

“Shh…” he leaning in close. “Back to sleep, darling~”

His voice was smooth, low, and almost hypnotic. Even for the moments you did open your eyes, it was dark. A dream. Just a lovely wet dream.

You started to relax again, softly moaning as he slowly moved in and out. It just felt so good.

“More~”

“More?” He whispered with a smile while kissing at your neck and lifting your shirt to see your bare breasts.

“Fuck— more~” you muttered again , arching your back slightly. “So good~”

Taehyung was happy to please you. He thrusted faster but not rough enough to wake you. The quiet night was filled with the sounds of your breathy moans and skin slapping; he kept going until feeling your hips stutter and pulled out as you came.

Your eyes were still closed and half asleep. You whimpered, sounding like a sad dog, at the loss of his touch and touched yourself, tracing circles on your clit.

Taehyung thought it was so cute. Your desperate whines which turned to moans as you touched yourself for stimulation. Of course, he was happy to help, moving your hand and replacing it with his.

“You like that, baby?”

“Mm… mmhm…”

You were almost crying at the feeling. Again, he covered your eyes as they started to flutter open.

“Shhh~” he whispered. “Back to sleep darling… let me pleasure you…”

“Pleasure me…” you repeated with a moan. “Please~”

Taehyung was prepared to pleasure you for as long as you wanted. After all, you did say please…

[softhaes]

Taehyung

Wrong Twin

Freeuse maid

Fucked in front of friends

Fuck bestie in front of gf

Glory Hole

Public beach

Flight attendant

Best friend's brother

Brother in law

Counselor

Baby mom's little sister

Doctor body check

Students

Van Sex

Freeuse Gift

Gym instructor

Jealous best friend

Truth or dare

Freeuse roomate

Pornshoot

Cheater

Bad Twin

Bi-curious

Principal

Begging to stop

Professor

Secretary

Concert prep

Racer

Sex show

Sex resort

[softhaes]

Mon Ange. | KTH

listen while reading — Is there someone else The Weeknd

— I made you mine, or so it seemed. I might as well be two feet tall. You never will love me at all. —

You’re calling out for his name, nothing can kill this moment. He feels sweetness and ease.. never has he let himself slip. But tonight is his birthday or so it was hours before.

Nonetheless, nothing could kill the stillness.

"Hm?" he’s mumbling with his speech, nose buried into pretty flushed skin. He feels confused, feeling you still when your words came out so blurred in his mind.

“I have to tell you something.”

Completely lost now where this was going, he stills his touch. Awkward and stiff, you make eye contact for what you are about to say.

He doesn’t understand the build up, he just wish you would say what it was. Maybe you had to take some time away from him due to your work.. he understood, he didn’t mind that.

"I think we should end our arrangement."

Oh. It’s so different from what he had just suspected, why does his heart feel like it just plummeted to another oblivion of nothing?

Taehyung doesn’t care, he’s undisciplined and chaotic with his very few next actions.

You need to leave. Freezing up, ready for his immediate impulse, because you know him like the back of your hand. The man picks you right off from his lap, rather rough and he would have time to regret on the meanness of it later.

He’s quick to pointing his hand open palm stiff and stern to the now sad wrinkled dress on the floor that laid lonely.

“Well, go on then.”

Your eyes looked at him pained, you had not a clue what his reaction really meant but you moved. Wiggling on your dress, back faced to him before looking once more to see his distracted stare. He is so out of it now, he doesn’t know.

“You understand.. right, Tae?” oh why must you speak so sweet to him using his shorten nickname in that especially nauseating sweet voice, even the way you are ending this is a million times nicer than he has ever ended a fling with a person.

“I do, bye.”

He’s being so mean, harsh and rude.

Taehyung hopes you won’t dwell on it or let it hurt your heart like it will to his very own.

But somehow he wants it to pain you, make you feel the same burn and ripping he feels in his chest right now. What did he do wrong?

“Goodbye Taehyung.” and that was it, the door clicked and so did his very front one. Left with the forbidden but likely delicious and perfect red velvet cake you’ve made, and a gift that sat perfectly next to it wrapped in his favorite color for wrapping paper on his kitchen island.

And indeed you had to make his favorite cake flavor, meaning you remembered the stupid detail when he told you on a night together.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He remembers so clearly on the morning you stayed after for the first time coming over for six months. The two of you had lazed in his bed between tangled limbs and sheets “I will, I will protect you.” your lips dropped into a pout tracing your nimble finger over the man’s jaw.

How could you even say that when you leave him not much later, he doesn’t get it. This isn’t like you at all. Maybe being in pained denial he couldn’t accept the sore fact that someone made the first move on with abandonment.

You weren’t supposed to lie, it’s uncalled for and unacceptable. But even deep down the man knew he was being ignorant, he’s lied to many people to avoid hurt and it was his own field of career to lie if necessary.. that’s all you were trying to do.

The man can’t dare to muster up to think you have a bad bone in your little body that was filled of nothing less of kindness. But right now he won’t be rational with his assumptions.

He’s angry and selfish with dire need for your presence now all over again, no matter the situation that this is. But whatever really, big deal that you are gone. He will find someone else to fuck his life into, you are no different from any other living human with a hole.

…

He pauses.

Never mind that, fuck that. He deserves a good and perfect reason for why you did this.. leaving him in the dark, quite literally. Taehyung can't stand not talking to you even if he never took time to speak so much into your conversations. He still appreciated all of your efforts and presence you put into whatever what you had was, now it’s all fucking gone.

He used to act upon impulse when he would have multiple play things through out the month. But you, you make him stop to think. It makes him wrinkle his nose because he does not have a clue why you turn him to be this way. It’s simply you being you, no spell.. no great manipulation in your words. Just you.

In the beginning of this arrangement he was reluctant given the age gap, especially with the relation that you were a long time family client of his.

Once he became enthralled with someone.. he could say it took a lot to kill it.

You weren’t the only one that had the privilege, he’s turned thirty two this year and definitely doesn’t have enough fingers to count on with how many girls he has used up and nicely dumped off to the side — kindly.

Sparing the honest reason that he needs to focus on his career before weeks later he would latch claws into his new toy, it’s only painstakingly different now.

Much different because he had never held onto a “toy” for over a few months at a time, the man liked variety and trying new things. With you in the picture, it was sickening at the fact that he grew real attachment to every little thing about you. It made him want you more. While he is nothing great of the sort for you, he was only a warm body to give you what was desired. You gave him your body and time, in return he would give you lust driven pleasure.

He was the one who established what you two were from the great beginning, he was not allowed to feel betrayed and cheated. Someone could hate him and he would cackle at that, a girl could scream at the stoic man and he’d chuckle again. Once you lose his interest there is no winning him back, it's as if getting stuck in a never ending pit of quick sand that could swallow you in pitiful eyes. He thinks it’s valid to feel this way, he’s coming to terms with the whole ordeal of what all this was.

Being your damn family lawyer and you had met him when you were the young age of nineteen, a mere baby. It definitely took some time for him to be ok with the fact that he would end up fucking you almost weekly with your given age — he’s not a pervert.. right? But you were a mature girl as you grew up, he liked you for this reason.. different and good for whatever he wanted and still you set healthy boundaries not letting him walk over your toes.

Time will pass nicely, right? He will be fine and move on — find someone even better. A little reflecting won’t hurt his soul.

It has been a little over two months since the grouch for a man has seen you, turning slowly into the twentieth century version for Scrooge.

Promising himself each day he would not give in and call you, you will be the one to run back.

He’s been saying that to himself since the day you up and left.. now his very once high and wild ego was now dwindling day by day and he is pissed beyond belief, because wow, wowww. You really did leave him as if he planned to do the exact for you in the beginning of meeting with you, that was before he caught a liking and it was only for your body, of course.

Yes.. that’s what is was. It was only really your gorgeous body that gave him pleasure to see you again and again, never mind the fact of your amazing personality or one of a kind glowing aura that brought a sweet genuine smile on his usual crest fallen features.

Broken from his reverie he’s receiving a call, he’s been sat still buried in his office since six am. It’s how he gets through his days to not think about you or testing the waters of calling.

The phone clicks and clatters, he needs to get himself a new desk phone or better yet just buy another smartphone. Huffing and puffing, he inhales and exhales seeing the caller id.

“Hello, it’s been awhile sir.”

It’s your father, he has to fake a front for the sake of niceties and also being civil because your very own damn dad has been using the Kim’s for any law or business relations since Taehyung was probably born, he’ll complain and grumble later on to a nice white wall of his.

“Oh yes! Things have been crazed.”

Taehyung really wonders about that, a hotel tycoon can only get so wild and crazed.. right?

“Hmm, I understand. What can I help you with.”

“Ah, Mr Kim. let’s get down to it—“ the grinch for a man licks and licks his lips again out of great big habit, becoming nervous of the lingering for just how long it takes this man to get to a point. Many clicks and clattering over the other line.. the older would continue.

“So, I need to talk through some paperwork with you regarding about merging contracts.”

“Go on, sir.” he can’t be this vague.. come on. Shouldn’t he know better than to speak so small about important shit, god help his ticking time bomb for patience being not a virtue.

Ping

If silence could kill it would be deathly here and now, he receives the paper work faxed over. A skim and scan later — Taehyung feels his heart plummet to places beyond his comprehension.

It’s just so now, he realizes your father has been blabbering about whatever this whole time.

“What is this all for?”

His eyes ogle and ogle for more than a few times he could count, reading the bold letters of “Marital License and Contract Briefing.”

“Well if it wasn’t obvious, our dear y/n is going to get married next month. We have set her up with the perfect man who is a well respected hotelier heir, a perfect match for our family.”

Of course.. of course your father would set you up with a person that is in the same position of business as him, you probably had no word or real say in this. God, why does he feel wrath and anger. He wants to rip his hair out straight.

He should be happy for you, your new husband to be probably feels like home in his arms.

So much that he bets he mends you with warm healing long hugs, and utterly disgusting kind smiles that remind you of honey mixed into sweet vanilla, your very two favorite things.

He continued to offer your father a tight-lipped smile as if he could see him through the phone, briefly looking up from the contracts on his computer screen — faxed papers sitting nice and crisped on his desk. He thinks it’s best he ends this call now before he yells off.

“Ok sir, I’ll look over them and we will discuss the terms and things that will be strewn.”

“Oh that is great to hear! I invite you over tomorrow for tea, we will discuss all of the paperwork then. Yes?”

He won’t allow himself to think about that, he will agree just to get off this damn phone call.

“Yes sir, I’ll see you then, good night.”

Click.

He’s here, he can’t believe he actually came.

Sat in the way too high ceilings for a living area, he will blame it on why he feels this nauseated. God, he knows you live here obviously. It’s been your parents odd and traditional rule until you were ready to move out when they thought it was best, you always said that was why you still stayed with them. What he didn’t know was the bizarre underlying conditions were marriage.

“Ah Kim, here we are.” The meeting begins and ends with the blink of an eye.

It went awful in Taehyung’s eyes, he really didn’t want to hear about you getting married off for a great three hours. It left the man wanting to seethe and bite his mouth off until the older would finally shut up to take a puff or sip of liquor.

Then on he tried to laugh with your father.. even when it felt as if pearly teeth might crack with only how hard his jaw flexed shut.

Your father welcomes the man to stay over for only awhile longer, he won’t accept it, kindly.

He has to get going.. because someone (Taehyung) couldn’t handle on what all just happened. While the hag of your father thought it was a good idea to step out and take a call.

15 minutes before

It’s been minutes now and your father isn’t back, Taehyung decides to dwell around with his eyes to gawk at the various family portraits hung from generations before and other astray framed photographs of little you and family.

He has the urge to trace his finger along the frames but he won’t, definitely not now.

“Tae..?”

Like clockwork, Taehyung’s head cocks in nanoseconds to the spiraled staircase you stood by, gripping on the bar to keep stance.

You look gorgeous right now, still the same as before. He can’t help but let his eyes trail over your legs, he’s no better than any other man. He decides he can’t stare for much longer though, clearing his throat to cock his head off to the side in mimicking a fake neck crack.

“Hello.” he decides on, licking lips for the trillionth time and resting hands into pockets.

Your stare doesn’t stutter elsewhere, you copy him yourself — licking lips except only slower and more tantalizing. Or that’s how he sees it. He hated confrontation, one of his favorite things about you though.. is you’d ask too many questions every time you were around. He’d act like he hated it, but bathed in the attention and attentive wide eyes you once had all for him.

It’s only none of the many questions you’d ask would ever provoke the man to deflect, bother him up the wall and make him drop you soon later in his own sheer annoyance like usual. It’s happened to others, he’s an asshole but he could care less because at least he is honest.

Seeing you now gives him bitter sweetness for deja vu, the memory to when he saw you for the first time when you were eighteen — never having an ounce of interest in you then. You were a pesky teenager though, ogling the man like sweet candy for your taking. Nothing unusual he hadn’t encountered before.. only ever moving forward to do his job and ignore it.

That helped some.

Both of you finally interacted properly then when you were twenty, clear that you had matured fast and you were well with holding good conversation. While.. your dear father ran around with his head cut off like a chicken and leaving a bored lawyer Kim to wait for set business meetings to be done, you were lovely company at least.

Then somehow.. something happened, the day where he took your virginity in your childhood bathroom — it was your 21st birthday after all.

It was almost too universal how the world wanted you two to be alone at this awful time. But the moment happened so fast maybe too fast if he wants to dwell on it now, only once comforting the weeping girl that trembled in his arms to have you seconds under his grasp.

You had to, just had to look down at him with those puppy dog eyes choking a mere sob of “Am I not important.. is that what it is Tae?”

God he hated how you said his name, so sweet and quiet. Full of vulnerability and sadness.

He couldn’t allow a pretty girl like you, sobbing over something so minuscule on her birthday, he had a great plan of course. Comfort? No.

Fuck the sadness out of you, it will do you well.

It’s shameful at how he’s too old for your young sweet heart that still had much to see and live.. he’s nothing but rotten fruit at best.

But why did he want to stay selfishly so.

Your eyes did it in for him, they always did..

Corny and sappy he thinks.

He tries to move on with the passing thoughts of why do you need to be claimed now when he was starting to think he could have tried. He hopes you had at least one passing thought yourself of the what ifs and hows.

Present

All but nothing of silence settles between the two of you, no words are exchanged past that.

Eventually steps dissipate further from him to hear, you leave after the stare off you both shared — thankfully your father interrupts.

It’s been a few hours since you last saw him, you knew way before he was going to dial your phone. Doing exactly this, after your third attempt to ignore the countless calls you press accept to hear the expectant drawl of your name in stupor.

You’re sure he’s grinning dumb and widely boxy, almost as if youth takes over for these very small tipsy minutes. His vulnerability is clearly yours now, it’s so viable at how bad he is vying for attention.

You prepare yourself, clearing your throat and speaking as clear and stern as one could be.

“Hello?”

“Hmmmhmm, hello.”

There’s a pause, awkward, but he’s drunk so he likely doesn’t recognize the rising tension.

“Yes, Taehyung?”

There’s a giggle..? Oh my god he just giddily giggled at your voice. No, no your heart isn’t doing backflips — you’re just concerned.

“At your door, open sesame.” you can hear him try to knock like a madman — even if there’s visibly a buzzer that’s meant to be there so insiders could hear from the size of your parent’s insanely huge home.

Drunk Taehyung doesn’t know that though.

Fuck well, ok you guess. Thank god your father isn’t home for the night — you begin to panic but you can dissolve situations fine, it’s your strong suit or one of the many of them at least.

You practically lunge from your bed to tumble over down the stairs, trying to keep him half entertained while you tunnel yourself to the door before the maids could see the odd sight.

Being quiet as you can be with unlocking the door, Taehyung makes it no issues to pull a dramatic scene. Already seconds in through the door staring you down, like any other would be scared of the predatory stare.

But this is Taehyung, he would never hurt you.

All you can do, Slowly watching him advance at you skittering back until you’re pressed to the wall. He doesn’t touch you, leaned against the victorian wall with each hand on either side trapping you between him.

He won’t stop there yet, drawling your name out in a drunken purr “Aw-huh. Angel, you got yourself stuck..what are we going to do now?" like no moral was ever created — toes curled into wooden floors from the deep baritone voice awakening all of your weaken senses.

You try, trying so damn hard and ignore it.

Staring hard into empty eyes, his bags are awfully visible and you wonder if he’s even slept lately.

You’re so tiny and frazzled by his abrupt actions, feeling him slide a warm hand up to your stomach to trail barely under your tits. The same said empty eyes sharpen at your slip of a pathetic whine, closing you into the wall a tad too close for comfort to make you both bump into each other’s chest.

“Wanna fuck this pretty cunt again.”

His words boom into you everywhere, from head to toe and places you wouldn’t like to acknowledge that throbbed with need. Doomed, definitely, that’s what you are.

You can only exhale feeling a warm shiver travel down your spine from the daring slip of drunken tongue. Able to pull enough strength to squeak a soft response “L-let’s lay down.”

It was your best bet to avoid from ruining your impending future, you won’t allow no more mishaps to happen. It’s all for your father.

He settled off with a hum, you were surprised he’d backed off. Maybe the man recognizing the nervousness in your tone, “Lead the way.”

It’s quiet now, too tense for your liking but you can’t do anything you think to help the off situation. Laid in your bed next to each other with a foot of space between your bodies.

It’s uncanny how alike this situation reminds you of some movie you watched with the man.

You feel like you’re steps away from saying the infamous line of “Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off.”

You won’t have a second to think longer when the big bear decides to speak up into the unknown of silence that had lasted for a long hour, “I get it.. yeah, you don't love me, big fucking deal.”

Silence, absolutely nothing back.

“I’ll never tell you how I really feel, angel.”

Your breath was being held for seconds until he decides to follow with cockiness, there it is.

Always showing a slip of vulnerability followed with the man being plain rude. It’s the way your eyes roll that cause a gasp to stutter from him, almost like he didn’t expect your attitude nor harsh yet honest reaction.

He won’t comment on it properly, never does.

“Hold me.” he mumbles while simultaneously grumbling, trying his definition in hard to get you closer than whatever.. this is. Your brow ticks at him head shifting to properly face his pouted features from his side profile, feeling up for the need to deny him only a bit.

“What? Stop mumbling.”

He won’t take a pause this time, thankfully.

“Hold me goddammit.” he huffs and puffs out even louder — yet incoherently all in the same breath. Taehyung coughs, trying to clear his throat and mocks you with a roll in his own eyes of annoyance, like you did something.

That time you did “hear” him and you did what was asked by the big grizzly bear, only you turned to him closer now — seeing that wry smile on his cruel but godforsaken pretty face.

The spiral begins, you and him are going to give into this hell of fire.. only letting it grow uncontrollable by the end of night.

Are you going to do well without me?

Are we ever going to be okay?

Will we ever be fine?

You were too good to be forgotten in his heart.

It was too quiet in this room, silent and tense.

Taehyung felt nothing but regret, fucking stupid as he closed his eyes and mumbled these pitiful words.

Stupid, as he continued to speak gibberish into the room. I feel stupid. I am stupid.

You finally give up on the swallowing of the never ending silence and endless mumbling under his breath, tongue dry trying to clear your throat so to maybe finally speak — maybe even summon him back, and he does. It works because he lets his eyes finally open back.

You tug him into your chest wasting no more time when there’s not much, arms wrapped tight around his stiff figure that takes only just a minute to loosen once he realized you weren’t going to push him back anymore.

It’s not much different though, his nails still pierced into his forearm with thin lips folded into teeth to feel anything but what this is right now. You were staring at him, Taehyung, your father’s lawyer, your first crush and realization that you really only like and desire older men.

Now wishing you’d rather have gone to therapy instead of pursue that day in the bathroom.

You don’t mean that actually, you just hate yourself at this very moment and so does he.

But this wasn't the Taehyung you knew, wasn't the same man with styled hair and sultry eyes.. looking now as real life death in your arms.

You weren’t trying to be harsh nor hateful, you were worrying your heart out and confirming all the racing thoughts you have figured to be maybe going on. Only for them to come to life. He looks unreal tonight, almost unnatural from his usual sun kissed skin. No more sharpness to his look, the man looks fucking sick.

You want to coddle him to death, your own heart feels like it’s going to lurch right out from it’s chest by any second now if he keeps looking at you with those sad puppy dog eyes. This was not the look you yearned to see, you hated it all so much.

“Well.” clearing his throat, trying to prove something into air. Maybe it’s a lawyer instinct.

You repeat back to him without a beat to really think, “Well..” you use the same tone of voice but maybe yours wavered more in raw pain. The man wordlessly continued to stare like always, holding your hand tight in his grip in bringing it up to his lips. You should reject his warm touch, leave even, run far.

But why are you still laying here.. melting away.

He was being this gentle and just careful, you would giggle if the situation weren’t tense now.

Long fingers playing with lips, digits ghosting over your cheek with a soft caress. You can’t help but shut your own tired eyes, melting more and more and it was just like that.

His control is gone, so fast and fluidly when your lashes fluttered to cold skin. Whispering his name too sweet and soft almost in prayer.

"We can’t.. it would be wrong.” it’s insane how you knew his intentions from the speed his hands traveled to the material of your night dress.

"So fucking wrong," he becomes almost too ready with heavy pants of hot breath kissing your jaw and neck.

Eager calloused thumbs rubbing circles into your hips that were on the brink of trembling.

You whine at the tone he uses, becoming easy to his invasion "Don't.. don't speak like that." Eyes heavy lidded, lips licking with each breath that exhaled from your stuttering chest.

He wants you dead it seems, feeling up your body more and more by every passing second before easy fingers would get to your chest.

"I'm wrong like that.. you like it," the man preaches with determined digits this time skimming back down onto your hips to hear his favorite strangled whines "you want it.”

"Ah.. T-tae” it’s pathetic.. sounding asthmatic in your own ears from mere fingers grazing you rough.

"Who's married? Certainly not you, yet."

You pause to mull it over, eyes falling into his.

He truly doesn’t care now, past gone. Nothing can stop this — you need him.. your sweet eyes tell almost all too fucking well for him to know.

He's moving on autopilot when he pulls you to him with no awareness of anything around him, the man frenzied with his only living goal to feel you wrapped around him. Whether it be with loose limbs or his all well endowed cock buried deep between warm tightness, he needed to feel you again.

Your gasps fall out too soft to be surprised at the sudden roughness, murmuring whining moans that fell into a mantra of "We can't..” tiny cries that quickly later start falling into hungry kisses while neither of you had an ounce of intention to stop, no matter the end of it.

Lips already collided against each other in a perfect mess of motion, tongues lolled out of your mouthes as the pleasure binds you both.

It’s disgusting now, strings of drool dribbling to your chest from every pause he took to pull and nip. The man grabs your scalp, yanking you head back against his shoulder. Jaw slack open to give him the prettiest mouth for him to gladly spit right down onto your tongue, so pathetic all for his demise.

Doing all the nothing but moaning and swallowing, open mouth with all your might.

Leaving a desperate plea in sparkly eyes while you wait impatient for his next move, you missed him. Eyes yearning and lips quivering, legs shaking so early on and yet.. your spine just might go limp quite soon.

You whine almost instantaneously and nothing less of desperate while the devious man began to nibble harshly down on your neck with small bites of love.

Moving on nothing but anger and bubbled feelings at surface, shoes being removed, with the stubborn zipper of your night dress slipping down from your shoulders as hungry lips explored every inch of skin that became exposed.

So quick, licking a wet stripe down your chest to stomach to feeling you shake with desire and need, tasting the want for you on his tongue.

“Hmm, your poor husband to be.”

He hated that, hated the fact that you were about to belong to someone. He knew he wanted and needed you to feel the burn that he had been feeling for months since then.

"I'm not t-telling," you can barely form a sentence let alone a proper sound that didn’t make you sound out to be like a deprived slut.

The man can’t do much other than scoff, you having the strength to use that reassuring tone— with such a soft tone and bat pretty doll eyes in lost of such easy pleasure given.

Looking this fucking gorgeous and it’s going to be all for someone else, not him ever “I know angel, not with the way i’m about to fuck you.”

Like clockwork you moan like a bitch at that, of course. Feeling him sink razor sharp canines down into the squishy flesh of your stomach.

Uncaring completely for the fresh marks, he would hope in your future meeting with that man.. you wouldn’t become so easy to show yourself off for him. Sliding his fingers from your stomach down over to your cunt, slipping long digits between sopping wetness — sticky as if you already had touched yourself earlier.

He’s growing impatient, on the aspect of stretching you out when he so gladly craves to stuff you four fingers full. But he’s a gentleman at his very best, always calling out for him in non-stop “T-tae..” or better yet “Touch me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” without any doubt he would answer “Anything for the angel.”

Your thighs already shake from the burn of /slowly/ fucking yourself on long fingers. Tears streaming, overwhelmed by the burning stretch that comes with each motion, soon quiet sniffles and soft gasps turn into sobbing when the man decides to snake his hand and start to tease and slowly circle your clit.

“So perfect, all for me, hm.”

You nod eager to please, blushing all the way down to your toes. Biting your lip, thoughts not holding very well against the feeling of the eager man’s middle finger now slipping out from you to part your cunt and stroke along the sore slit.

“Patient tonight? You must want it bad.” he sighs almost sounding bored, standing tall over you to undo the belt that once looped through his slacks. Long gone leather abandoned to the floor along with his slacks pooled at his ankles, ready, finally.

“You gotta be nice and quiet for me. Yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You’re way past desperate tonight, choking out a broken “Y-yes, fuck! Please.” wild hips winding up for more of the now lost touch.

The older plays coy, smirking lopsided and lazy, kneeling on the bed to line himself up to the pretty plump cunt. Long digits wrapped around his cock, "Open up for me baby."

She obeys immediately, legs opening wider to shakily wrap themselves around Taehyung’s waist. His hips up to slip his cock into the crease of your folds. Grinding there half tipsy now, leaky tip nudging at your clit.

Not wasting another second, the first push of stretch has you whining his name. Long nails piercing into taut honey skin, cock fucking in ruthless at the long thrusts that heat your core up, forming sweat down his neck and shoulders.

“Goood fucking girl.” He drawls with a husky moan, you want to die at how fucking hot he sounds.

He doesn’t care, going faster to no point of being coherent in your mind. Punishing strokes fucking the life out of you, snapping his cock right into your tight cunt. One hand bruised into your hip while the other slipped easily around your neck just enough to have you alert “Look me in the eyes when I’m fucking you.”

Lashes fluttering half open, looking with a fuzzy minded daze. Knowing you look like a slut, feeling drool drip everywhere along with the slickness between your legs. Coming to the reality you would let him do anything and you’d welcome it.

"Just like that baby, shit, taking my cock so fucking good," he grunts almost feral with every punishing stroke "Y-yes, " tiny voice choking out, slamming into you with hips winding harder if that was even humanely possible "Love it so much, I-love your cock.”

“Who’s a whore, uh? Who’s desperate for cock.”

“Tell me.” he growls slowing the roll of his hips into you to pull a desperate cockslut spill a mess of “Me, me, me.” you’re hyperventilating almost with how good he feels “M-me, I’m sorry!” god, the situation is a mess but he wouldn’t be lying if he wasn’t thinking about filling his load in you and pray to the man above that your birth control didn’t work.

feeling walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing the telltale signs you were about to cum.

“Perfect fucking girl, sucking me so tight.”

“S-stop..” you whine in embarrassment with a broken sob when you feel the devil himself sink deeper, balls deep inside you now.

Back and forth, back and forth.

An addictive dance, once friendly boundaries expanding to something that was speaking what will stay unspoken. Taehyung’s cock sliding so good inside your cunt you were dying with bliss for the night.

He can see you struggle to try and put a hand over your mouth, but the man won’t allow that. Snatching your hand in his grasp “Let her hear," he growls, referring to the maids and starts to fuck the life out of your cunt with no care for how loud you moan or scream.

"Y-your slut," you stutter, feeling him start to raise his hips to meet your weak attempt of grinding back, thrusting upward and matching your sloppy speed. "wanna b-be your slut."

His ego growing higher than before and dick hard as ever, Taehyung taunts, already knowing the answer by your dazed features.

“Oh yeah?” he pants grunting with every roll of his hips, and you can do nothing but give him what he wants. On the brink of tears you whine out broken moans, “So fucking bad, please Tae.”

“Come on." the taller’s strokes turning slow and hard, each one pulling a moan from sweet agape lips. "Cum on my cock.” you’re past coherent, cock drunk with drool slipping down your chin.

The ecstasy bursting through your body at an unimaginable rate,legs feel almost numb, smaller fingers gripping your sheets so hard. Taehyung already knew you would rip them off the corners of your bed, seeing how your own skin burned. Orgasm still sending ripples throughout your tiny body. Shaking as you came down from the high, cock buried deep, cum spilling inside as he keeps your body pressed together, skin to skin. His nose buried in the crook of longer sweaty strands of hair.

You begin to feel the feather kisses he mouthed over the expanse of your neck, his body quivering with the last of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck, yeah, ok.” is all he can do to respond, you can only hum in response as you’re being fucked so mind-numbingly good. Body moving along the bed as you’re fucked open for the year.

Your blissed-out state has the man feeling on top of the world, no case he’s won ever given him this much ecstasy for this feeling of high.

Knowing that the same woman he's been getting off to for months, that was only planned to be handed over to someone else is finally getting fucked. His pretty not so sweet angel drooling all for him, ruined for good by just his cock.

The floaty feeling back to how it was, only stronger than ever, the way Taehyung feels so right up against you.

He comes from his feverish moment of just drilling into you, no awareness for how overwhelming it may be. A smaller hand trying to grab his hand to make him stop, he sees nothing less of rage.

"Move your fucking hand.” he snaps with a hiss, snatching your hand in an iron like grasp.

“only I can touch you like this.” he states, hard and stern as if it’s a plead mixed into question. “Yeah?” of course he has to slap you for you to answer, braindead and cock hungry.

“Yes, all for you!” you squeal, body curling into yourself — he begins to dwell how there is not a real thought behind your eyes but his fingers and cock bearing your only passable thoughts.

He wants to laugh, your poor husband is about to be inadvertently about to be cucked.

You moan at how rough he’s being, every yank, spanking and slap getting you more than riled up. Rambling the typical ‘I love you, I love your cock.’

He’s aggravated, not sure why, deep down knowing. "Look at me and tell me what you want.” no way to receive an answer unless he squeezed a generous hand around your throat.

“Y-you, you, fuck!”

It’s not enough, he wants to laugh at his greediness that will not sate him ever.

Again and again, back and forth. Another slap landed across each apple red cheek, going harder each lashing.

“Again.”

You repeat yourself again, hm, still not enough.

He’s done with himself, frustrated and choosing to vomit his words.

“You’re mine, get that through your fucking head.” his thrusts were past hard and fast, bruising now. He grunted and groaned while you continued to moan and whimper beneath him, going so rough he decided to push your skull deep into the bed. Warm palm covering your face whole, feeling you squeeze involuntarily at being used like an object.

“Atta girl.” He didn't stop, not once. You weren’t asking to anyways just screaming his name for more — no mind here with nodding away into a mess full of bedsheets, trying to wind wobbly hips back on his cock to bounce lewdly.

Taehyung does nothing less but snap sharply against your ass, “So fucking tight, mine."

"C-cum in me tae," you moan, seeing white, reaching down blindly to rub your clit in frantic circles, begging at the idea of the older filling you with his cum. "Fill me up, give-give me a baby."

"Fuuuck," Taehyung growls and groans almost feral "Don't fucking say that shit."

"W-why not?" bratty whines beg “F-fill me up? Don't say that?"

Taehyung grunts, pulling you on him, chest to chest, you clamor to wrap shaky arms around his neck. Fuck, he’s holding you upright, bouncing you straight onto his cock. Falling forward with a squeal, crying in pleasure as the tip of his cock hits your cervix with how deep he is inside.

"Want my cum so fucking bad?" he hums, trying his best to sound unbothered. "I'll fucking give it to you then."

Your legs clamp around his waist as he pounds into you, cock hitting every point inside your body and you’re so close you think you’ll die. You feel Taehyung tense, and then a sudden gush of warmth fill you.

"Fuck me, angel. You feel so good." he gasps through l shut teeth spanking you with every thrust he gave.

At the feeling of him actually listening to what you always wanted, your orgasm blinds you in intensity, the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps. Body seizing, moans loud against his lips, whining a final tired cry to slow down.

The baby clip once stuck to hair now hung loose, the feeling of warm hands kneading hips before he would give harsh slaps to your ass.

"What do you think he would say," he spits out the name with nothing but disgust. “if he saw you like this?" He shifts his hips, "You think he'd ruin your orgasm?" tone patronizingly sympathetic. “Or.. let you cum so prettily, like you always do.”

He tsks at watching how disoriented daze eyes go through the five stages of grief. Writhing in pleasure as eyes fall closed, breath hitched when he finally lays you back down on the bed. Thighs sticky and all, he sighs at the sight.

“Want to show this cunt off to the world."

“Y-you can’t..” you pout, his eyes watching you fall apart all over again at just words being spoken to you.

“Good thing for secrets.” he smirks his mouth almost falling into a snarl, it wasn’t even spoken this would continue. One last time you agreed.. but you want him more than ever even if your situation is doomed.

“Bath?” he mutters with a whisper of soft kisses to your temple, you nod.

He grabs for his cigarettes, you hand him his lighter and wait until the deed was done so you could put them back off to the side again.

It’s been long since you both have took a bath together. He stretches his arms after he successfully calmed his nerves, you light the stick for him, eyes on him as he throws his head back to inhale. Blowing smoke out, body lazing while it filled with nicotine.

You like calm men, men who dont shout or break things when they’re upset. Men who talked to you in a gentle, low voice telling you what made them mad or what you did wrong.

That’s what Taehyung is to you, that’s what made you fall.. hard. You think it over all again in your current predicament, comfortable as ever.

Veiny caramel hands pulling your hips up in the bath for you to be settled nicely. A warm hand fondles your ass lovingly with his other taking puffs of smoke to inhale and exhale lazily, “My pretty girl.” he smiles lopsided before tugging your wobbly hips back down in relief, enjoying the way you whimpered and whined in your own way of retaliation.

Taking mercy before planting a wet kiss on your shoulder to whisper “I love you, Angel.”

Both of you decide on staying silent. Your back rests against his chest, deciding mutually to speak once the cigarette burnt into ashes.

“Does he make you feel safe, like I do?”

You don’t answer.

“I want you, you’re mine no matter what.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You are married now.. being due with a fast wedding to no love involved, business as the main goal.

The meets with Taehyung continue and you two make time to fuck when you can — poor Namjoon.

It hurts he thinks.. hurts so bad. Because he’ll have to look at you every month when you come over to be fucked into whatever.

While he is out handling business, leaving him in the spot to fuck you hard and good like he can’t, at least he tried to convince himself of that for his own comfort.

You keep up with the old routine of pillow talk, just to feel the same mundanity this once all was. You think, he doesn’t care what you speak of after he only just poured his dull sad soul into fucking you.

Not caring at how you talk so highly of your new husband and how well you both are adapting with each other. Rambling all on about your blossoming relationship with him, hearing you nervously speak of the plans on having kids together.

Of course not nervous on his behalf, no, no.

Because you are deathly nervous about if you will be a good mother or not, he knows you will, even if things are like this. You think it doesn’t hurt him, when you say genuinely on how he’ll be the “Cool friend of Mommy’s” to your children.

It drives a knife deep into my heart on how you speak so highly of this new life, how well you are adapting. When.. we could have had this.

“Tae..? You there?”

He’s not caring to respond to your rhetoric question that was all well laced of genuine care and worry, Taehyung can be an asshole just this once.

“Do you know what you are?”

You think this is a game of teasing now, he can tell with that pretty smirk plastered on your gorgeous face “What am I, sir?”

It’s too bad that he’s being genuinely serious.

“You’re my girl.”

You don’t take a second to pause, you play into the narrative with a grin that quickly warped into an innocent and sweet smile.

“I’m your girl, Taehyung.”

He only knew that you meant the world to him.. and he, adored you in his mind until it hurt.