#Namjoon’s daughter

[namjoonaaah]

moodboard: which kim army are you today?

[nucleo-bang-tan]

The Uisa's Daughter | Chapter 111: Her Kidnapping

Pairing/s: Kim Taehyung X Reader, Future!Jeon Jungkook X Reader, Slight!Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Medieval Korea AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut

Rating/s: 18+ Mature Themes

Warning/s (Do not read if you want some suspense): Major characters' death, forceful marriage, blood and lots of it, cliffhanger again sorry, MC is not a pedo don't worry!!!!

Summary: In the 1700s, the Jeon Dynasty spread all across the Korean peninsula.  Happiness quadrupled with the founder Emperor's presence, or so it seemed. Secrets scattered over the palace in the capital city, Hanseong were known to none except a few.

Chapter Summary: You're the black cat, crossing everyone's paths.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Teaser Prologue Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In the dance of power, innocence is often the first casualty – and in this case, it's your innocence.

You never suspected your father capable of such treachery against his beloved companion. Your tears were the face of shattered hopes of a future and the deep melancholy of a daughter left behind by her own blood.

You tried to make sense of it all. And the more you thought of it, the less it did.

You were on your bed, crying and panicking. The way your hands couldn't stay still and the way your breath wasn't any better made Yoongi more worried than he liked to admit.

"You know..." He spoke impulsively, "I wish I could help. I wish I could kill that bastard."

You sobbed into your pillow, as Yoongi sat on the floor beside your bed. You wanted to say something, but you couldn't bring yourself to. You had politely asked him to leave before your breakdown but he stayed put.

You wondered why, and so did Yoongi.

"Kitten..." He sighed, "Y/n, talk to me."

"Mr. Min, I-"

"Yoongi. Call me Yoongi." He cut you off.

"I don't want you t-to see me like this. Please l-leave me be."

Yoongi wished he would have thought before what he did next before he did it, but he couldn't.

He wished he could just have left and let you sob to your content, but he couldn't.

He got up from the floor and sat on the bed. The slight dip felt was enough to startle you and you sat upright.

Yoongi couldn't help but feel sorry for you. Your cheeks were stained, eyes red from the constant outpour of tears, and your nose irritated from all of this.

"I-I'm sorry." You bowed slightly.

Yoongi was never big on emotions or comforting others, he never believed in it. Always declaring emotions as a waste of time.

"Why are you sorry?" He asked.

"I-I shouldn't be crying but I feel s-so overwhelmed." You sobbed out.

"You're making me worried, and I never get worried."

You looked away for a moment before looking back to him, "I'm sorry, Yoongi. But I wish to be alone right now."

He let out a sour chuckle, "I don't think that's a good idea. My mind doesn't want you to be alone right now. I-" He really wasn't consenting to his words right now. They were involuntary.

He took a deep breath before saying, "Do you... wish for some comfort?"

You looked at him, confused etched on your tear-streaked face, "What do you mean?"

It was an impulse for him, he didn't think twice, heck, he didn't think at all when he hugged you.

You let out a gasp. You had never been close to anyone except Taehyung. You didn't hug him back. You knew what Taehyung told you about men.

But the way his hug felt so comfortable and affectionate had you tearing up even more.

He felt warm and cozy, which was honestly something you needed on a night when your own father pushed you into the blizzard to save himself.

"I know it's not alright and this is the least I can do to help you." His embrace grew tighter.

You felt like you could trust him, so you did.

You closed your eyes and let it all out.

How your father treated you, how the benevolent King Jeon was actually the vilest of them all, how you wished Taehyung could just run away with you to another country.

Yoongi listened to it all. He stayed there even when you asked him to leave. He held you when you didn't even know you needed it.

How he wished he could stop your breath from shaking and your body from trembling. It sure was cold but your body was colder.

He stayed there till you fell asleep, tired from all the stimuli and trying to escape reality. Even when you did fall asleep, he stayed there, thinking.

He stayed there thinking till he finally found a solution.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Do you have no shame?" Your mother chastised.

You tried to explain, "I couldn't help it. I-"

"Your face is puffy and your eyes are bloodshot. Did you not think twice before crying? King Jeon won't like you like this."

You looked down at your hands in your lap, wondering where Taehyung would be at the moment.

It was already the day of the big wedding, and your maids were getting you ready for it.

They carefully applied a thick layer of makeup which was miles lighter than your actual skin and tied your hair into a bun adorned with beautiful clips.

You had to acknowledge how stunning you looked.

The red hanbok was sent by your soon-to-be husband. You had to give it to him; he chose it wisely. The hanbok was accompanied by a note that said, 'Do not try to resist or I will make you regret it.' You didn't have to read the name signed below to know it was the King who wrote it.

A maid knocked on the door before opening it, "The carriage has arrived, mistress." she said to your mother.

The carriage.

It was a one way ride, you weren't coming back.

"Alright then, Y/n. Let us leave." Your mother suggested and you nodded, your voice being too fragile to speak.

As you came out of your room, you could see tens of guards making sure the whole ordeal goes smoothly. This could also be a reason why Taehyung couldn't contact you.

You carefully looked around examining every path for escape but the guards where somehow everywhere.

Reaching the one person palanquin, you climbed into it. Four of the King's finest and strongest men lifted the carriage, the movement was comfortable to say the least but the situation was anything but.

All you thought about was Taehyung and how you hadn't met him in a week. You knew Taehyung. It wouldn't take a day or two for him to contact you somehow. But he didn't. That made you more than worried for his wellbeing. Did Yoongi tell the King? It was highly unlikely but possible.

As your procession walked towards the palace, Yoongi walked beside your ride keeping an eye on everything and everyone.

"Yoongi..." You called to him, curtains to the side.

It didn't take a second for him to attend to you, "What is it, kitten?"

You gestured him to come closer and he leaned towards your carriage. "Any word from Taehyung?" You whispered.

"He is fine, I promise. You'll meet him soon." He whispered back.

You were relieved but you still asked, "Soon? What do you mean?"

"You'll see." He smiled and closed the curtain leaving you in concern and partial darkness.

It wasn't long before you felt your carriage being placed on the ground. That was your cue to gracefully exit the carriage and you did.

As soon as you stepped out, you were greeted with familiar palace walls. You did love the palace but not the people who inhabited it.

You often remembered the kind and beautiful queen. King Jeon never let you interact with her much but whenever you did, she was pleasant.

The King never treated her warmly as far as you remembered. You could trust him on doing the same to you.

Whispers of admiration towards you and the King could be heard from the crowd of guests and family members.

The whispers were too loud for you, the attire too stuffy, the palace too humid, and suddenly you were panicking.

Your breath ran short as you walked towards where the King sat. You didn't even dare to look up at him or at the people surrounding you.

It was a sudden sense of suffocation that washed over you. You knew it was unreasonable. You were living someone's dream life, marrying the King of the country and enjoying the luxuries of his palace, every woman in the kingdom was jealous of you.

But you could not even pretend to be happy. Not when the groom was not Taehyung. Not when you were currently walking towards your eternal damnation.

You tried to look as calm as possible and you were sure no one knew what went through your mind.

You didn't want to look at your future husband's face, you were sure you'd slap him.

You didn't look at him when he offered you his hand to help you sit down near him. But you took it, a gesture that widened his smirk.

You bowed before sitting down next to him. The hanbok was too thick and the make-up, too compact. So it was a relief for you to be sitting down.

Your father was the one who poured in the rich rice wine into small cups. It was a ritual to be married in such a way.

All you had to do was drink with King Jeon and exchange a few acknowledgements and gifts. That was all you needed to get married to him.

You loved weddings when you were a child. The lavishly decorated and deliciously catered occasion for the uniting of two individuals.

Ofcourse you didn't realise it then, that the two people didn't even see each other before, it was all diplomatic, materialistic and arranged by their families.

You picked up the cup, albeit gently, unlike the eager man beside you who took the cup and downed the wine in a single breath.

All eyes were on the bride. You were supposed to follow suit.

But before you could bring it closer to your mouth, a collective gasp and a few screams were heard, making everyone look in that direction. The people there had dispersed, one of the soldiers dropped dead on the ground.

The man standing above him and the person responsible for this was none other than your lover, looking determined. You knew the look in his eyes, he'd rather die than abandon the goal at hand.

"What is the meaning of this?" The man beside you yelled.

The men and women scattered, every single one was scared for their lives. It didn't take long for the people to exit the palace.

The competent guards of the palace didn't take long to surround Taehyung. But he had brought back-up of his own. His mates looked like old farmers from his neighbourhood who held swords with the confidence of seasoned warriors.

"T-Taehyung." Your voice was faint but he could hear it through all the commotion. Taehyung looked at you and flashed a quick smile before dodging an attack from a palace guard.

His uncomplicated grin spoke more than words, and it was reassuring.

He was here to rescue you.

Amongst all the chaos, you felt a pointed object against your spine, making you freeze up.

But a familiar voice spoke, smirk evident in his comment, "We're kidnapping you, kitten."

The King, who sat beside you was extremely vexed, "Yoongi, kill that man!"

Yoongi replied snarkily, "If I could, I would do it in a heartbeat. But old man, I don't think I want to,"

The aged man was startled. His most trusted and reliable soldier betraying him like this? Looking at the sword pointed at your back, he realised Yoongi was involved with Taehyung.

The King could burst a vein with how angry he was now, "Guards, capture Yoongi!" He proceeded to look at your lover, "And as for Taehyung..."

How did he know his name? You thought. But that was the least of your worries right now. Taehyung and Yoongi were fighting for you. So you did the best you could, you got up and tried to run.

But King Jeon was a king for a reason, and with his agile movements, he got a hold of you by your hair. You let out a whimper at the pain.

Yoongi, who had already defeated all the guards around him, charged forward with his sword to stab through the King's body.

But he was stopped and rivalled by a soldier, possibly of higher order, who wore a helmet. Only his eyes were exposed.

Yoongi only gave a smug look to the man, "Ah, look who finally decided to show up. I'm not the one you need to protect her from..."

As you watched the confrontation unfold, you noticed the way they knew each other, a flicker of familiarity in Yoongi's eyes.

The King handed you to a couple of guards. Struggling against the firm grip of the guards holding you back, your eyes desperately seeked out your lover in the chaotic scene. Their hold tightened as you fight to break free.

Taehyung was still going strong against the never-ending number of guards, despite his comrades being either dead or injured.

"Tsk, tsk, be gentle with your future queen." The King said to the guards manhandling you.

A groan from Yoongi's direction was followed by a thud.

You looked at him, he was held sword-point by the unknown, high ranking soldier, unable to move as the blade pressed against him.

You were in disbelief, you knew Yoongi to be one of the strongest man in the kingdom. The fact that someone like him couldn't last mere minutes in front of that soldier was petrifying.

"Kill that traitor." King Jeon ordered, but the soldier hesitated. It was possibly due to him being familiar with Yoongi.

"No! Please, don't do it!" You begged, trying to loosen the grip of the guards.

The soldier was seemingly torn between what he was supposed to do and what he wanted to do. His exposed eyes held softness while he looked at you.

"You're useless!" The old man yelled and yanked the sword out of the soldier's hands.

The scene that unfolded in front of you made you lose all the fight inside of you. The King laughed maniacally as Yoongi slowly began to lose blood. The guards looked startled, a man like that dying at the hands of the King himself.

The sword had pierced right through his chest, leaving no chance of survival.

The sight of blood never made you nauseous but this time was an exception. You felt dizzy looking at Yoongi and his large wound. Yet, you couldn't see him clearly because of your tear filled eyes.

You cried but Yoongi simply chuckled, "You..." He pointed at the man who pushed the sword into him, his drowsy eyes boring straight into his. You could tell he was in a lot of agony but he didn't show any.

"I have something you don't, you bastard..."

The King scoffed, "And what might that be?"

Yoongi looked at you, who was crying and even though you didn't want to fight anymore, you struggled to get out from the guards' grip.

"Someone to cry for me when I die..."

"I have tens of thousands of people to cry for me, you imbecile."

Yoongi laughed, still looking at you, "Just kill me, already."

And with that, the old man pulled the sword back and plunged it again but this time, hitting Yoongi's heart.

You could see the light disappear from his eyes. His blood that flowed drenched your already red hanbok. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, assaulting your senses and making it hard to breathe. You watched helplessly as the person that gave you comfort all these days when Taehyung couldn't, someone you could call your friend, bled to his demise.

But now, the King was done with Yoongi, he laid his eyes on the mastermind— Taehyung.

"My dearest queen, let's make this easier for both of us, shall we?" His malicious voice echoed through the battlefield that was once a wedding.

King Jeon walked away from Yoongi's lifeless body and cued the soldier to fight the resilient yet tired Taehyung. You had no time for mourn for your friend when you realised where the two of them were headed.

"N-No! Taehyung!!" You screamed, falling down on your knees. The situation would have been so much easier if you knew how to fight, or were stronger.

Your call caught Taehyung's attention. He realised what the old man had done and was planning to do next.

Taehyung wiped the blood on his cheek and cleaned his palm for a better grip on the sword.

The soldier cracked his neck before attacking Taehyung. The clanking of their swords kept you at the edge. You knew Taehyung couldn't win against him but there was still some hope.

Until there wasn't.

Regret is a funny thing.

You trust yourself while doing the actions, you trust the others around you. Barely thinking about the results, the consequences. But time takes it all away and you're left with this disgusting feeling called hate and annoyance of your past self clawing it's way until it finally breaks you.

You always thought of life as a matter of the present. To forget the past and live carefree of the future. No regrets.

Oh, but you were only human.

A human full of regrets.

Would it be better if you had ran away with him?

Should you have had exposed the Emperor the minute you knew what he wanted?

Would you not be stuck here if you knew your father better?

....should you not have asked for some better vegetables that day?

It was all your fault your lover was here,  bleeding out his insides. You saw as the King pushed the sword deeper into the gaping male in front of you.

The sharp tip of the legendary white tiger sword was now covered in blood, some dripping off the edge of it. You would ask how his lowly self dared to wield it but you needed to get your thoughts straight first. You opened your mouth to speak but all that was let out was a whimper.

Taehyung coughed up blood and looked at you with sad eyes. This could have gone better. His eyes spoke a clear message. He regretted it all. Just like you did.

But one thing he didn't regret was loving you. Heck, he couldn't help it no matter how much he tried.

"This is what you get for committing treason against me." The king spoke from behind Taehyung. His voice coming out with a series of pants. He didn't seem to regret a thing.

"T-Tae..." Your voice came out more silent than intended. "Taehyung?" Was the only word you could form.

Blood spilt from his mouth as he tried to smile for a reply. He wanted to run to you. Embrace you while petting your hair, tell you he'll be fine.

He saw as you cried for him, your brain barely registering the existence of tears and focusing more on the sight in front of you.

"What was that? Still speaking of this wreched man's name?" The king scoffed and abruptly pulled his sword out of the bleeding man. You let out a scream of his name and got away from the guard, running towards Taehyung who fell to his knees.

The king smirked evilly above him, "I told you, I'll make you regret it, Y/N."

The soldier's eyes widened. How could the King interrupt his fight like this? How could he stab a man that had his back to him? But more importantly, the soldier saw as you hugged and cried for Taehyung.

"T-Tae, please, hang on..." You cupped his cheeks and placed your forehead against his, a gesture that was so familiar to you, but his blood that now stained your palms was anything but.

The struggle to kidnap you had now ended with Yoongi losing his life and Taehyung lying bloodied on the ground.

"I love you, I love you..." He muttered, wiping your tear but in the process, leaving a blood streak across your cheek.

"You can't l-leave me like this..." You cried.

"Ah, how fun. I didn't know the two of you were lovebirds." The King let out.

You looked at him, expecting something but you knew all you were going to get was disappointment, so you spat, "Fuck off, you are a coward."

"Pretty mouth..." He said before cueing his guards to hold you.

You tried your best to stay with Taehyung, but 3 grown men against you wasn't a fair deal. But they didn't take you far, infact they held you tightly right in front of Taehyung.

Your eyes were on Taehyung's until the old man blocked your line of sight.

"Now, open up. Drink the wine, we are not married yet, remember?" He said.

"Never, I don't wish to marry you. You deserve hell."

He clicked his tongue, "I don't like use my strength on women, but a fiesty one like you..." He forcefully grabbed your cheeks with one hand and poured the wine down your throat with the other.

And that sealed your fate. You were married to the King and were the Queen of the Jeon Empire.

You tried your best to spit it out but the man held your mouth shut.

King Jeon ordered the guards to take you away.

The last thing you saw before leaving the place was a Taehyung whose chest didn't show any signs of breathing.

He died as well.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The guards had locked you in a lavish room. No window was left open, the only ventilation being the very small vents.

You could only assume it was the Queen's chambers or worse, the King's. You looked around, trying to find anything that could possibly help you escape.

But then it hit you, where were you going to escape to? With whom were you going to escape with?

You knew what happened with bodies of traitors or revolters; they were fed to dogs and wolves.

The realisation that you could never hold Taehyung crept up on you.

Maybe you were dreaming, maybe you were sleeping on Taehyung's lap, near the lake and he was caressing your hair.

But it wasn't a dream, you knew it wasn't. You were now married to the 'benevolent' Emperor. And your only light in a tunnel filled with darkness was no more.

You banged at the door, a kind maid could perhaps open it for you, but you knew it was impossible, the King had everyone under his spell, and those who weren't, well...

You bawled, tugged at your hair, as an effort to let out all the pain. Taehyung was dead, and now you had no reason to be alive. You didn't know what to do, now that the only one that made you feel was gone.

But you wished you had never met him, he would have been well off, with someone else, living his best life.

You were the black cat, bringing bad luck to whoever crossed paths with you. Your father's cover was blown because the King wanted you and investigated deeply about him.

Yoongi died because he made friends with you and felt sympathy for you.

And Taehyung died because he loved you. Because you were simply selfish and wanted to love him as well. You should have let him go the moment you knew your father was suspicious.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Your majesty, the Queen is burning up!" You couldn't see as your vision was blurry but you could faintly figure out what was going on.

A maid who was sent to check up on you found you lying near the door of your chambers. You had fever, and it was anything but mild.

Slipping in and out of wakefulness, you could make out a rather familiar pair of eyes and a few curses. You realised it was the soldier from earlier but you were too out of it to figure out what he actually looked like.

You could feel him pick you up and take you somewhere in a rush, probably the doctor.

You could also hear his drowned out voice when he placed you down.

"Please, do everything you can. I beg you."

You had surely passed out after that because the next thing you knew, you were still weak but felt much better.

You slowly opened your eyes, realising you were in your new chambers. Your red hanbok which was covered in blood, was long discarded.

"Oh, my Queen. You're awake!" A rejoiced voice said.

Squinting, your eyes found themselves on a a well built man. Your body was extremely feeble, you couldn't even get up.

He smiled, "You were asleep for 3 days. I'll tell the maids to provide you with some liquids."

"W-Who are you?" You asked.

"I'm Kim Namjoon, the palace doctor."

You had heard about him from your father. He was the second best doctor in Hanseong, after your father ofcourse. Kim Namjoon was younger than you when he was scouted as a doctor, making him one of the youngest.

"You had a lot of dreams- nightmares, if you will. Was it about your attempted kidnapping on your wedding day?"

Your eyes filled up, you didn't want yourself to remember those events. The images of Yoongi and Taehyung made a noticeable taste of bile crawl up your throat.

"I'm sorry, your majesty. I'll leave you alone. Please call me if you need anything." He bowed and left your chamber.

You put all your strength to sit up on the bed. You closed your eyes and swallowed the hard truth.

Was this it? Was this really it?

You felt your throat was dry due to days of being without water. You felt your eyes scan over something, or was it someone?

You looked again just to find a pair of big doe eyes staring at you from the slightly ajar door.

You blinked a few times and the pair of eyes mirrored you.

"Hey, I can see you." They were those of a small child judging from the height. "You can come inside." The child hesitated but decided to push the door fully open and enter.

Your breath hitched, why did he look so familiar. You could immediately place it, he looked similar to the kid from your recurring dream. But for some reason he didn't look older than 7 years or so.

"Come here, dear." You said. He carefully walked towards your bed and bowed. He didn't look like a maid's child, infact he looked like he was royalty.

"I'm Y/n, what's your name?" You smiled, extending your hand to him.

He placed his smaller one into yours, "I'm Jeon Jungkook."

[minyminymo]

Eldest daughter urge to have someone like Chan, joong and Joon as partner

[dari-ede]

In the Middle of the Night: Chapter 24

Chapter 24: "Si lo forzás se marchita"

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

AN: And it’s back! Thank you everyone for your patience. It’s been quite the 2 months. Hopefully, I’ll be able to come back to a regular weekly, or at least Bi-weekly, posting. Happy reading! 🥰

Summary: As Bangtan prepares for a new chapter in their lives, they head to their private property in the forest for a songwriting workshop. As a songwriter and producer they have worked with for years, I’m asked to tag along. I was ready for the heavy workload and small amount of sleep during the workshop week. However, I wasn’t ready for the storm that came that changed my friendship with Namjoon forever.

Pairing: Idol!RM/Namjoon x OFC

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut

Rating: M (mention of sexual assault, explicit language, sexual scenes in prior chapters)

Status: COMPLETE

Trigger warnings: hurt, heartache, anxiety (there are a lot of feels in this one)

Warnings: a BRIEF description of sexual assault (look for ***)

*****************

I don’t think I have ever cried as much as I did on that first day. There was a tightness in my chest like I was trying to breathe underwater. My ribs felt cracked from the numerous attempts of taking in a full breath. My lungs weren’t getting enough oxygen, the sobbing made it hard to. When my mouth would open, at first I thought it was to absorb the colorless gas my body needed to survive but instead, it was to let out sounds I had never heard myself make. It was a siren-type wail. I felt like La Llorona, searching for the person I cared most for but couldn’t find. Couldn’t find him because the monster inside me had caused him to leave. I had caused the destruction. I had murdered what I treasured most. I was the reason for my own pain.

I wanted nothing more than to call him. I would grovel and beg—whatever he wanted, I would do. Whatever demands he had, I would obediently follow. I would do it all just to have him back. To have him close.

I didn’t care how pathetic I sounded. Didn’t care how wrecked I looked.

I just wanted to breathe again. And he was the source of it.

It was in those first hours of crying out in agony that I realized the truth of what Namjoon had become for me. He had become the most vital chemical element to keep my body alive: oxygen. The little air I was able to inhale felt so wrong, almost poisonous. Rather than healing me, it was slowly killing me.

Fuck, I was so pitiful.

I was in pieces for a guy who didn’t feel the same for me as I did for him. Didn’t see a proper woman he wanted to be with. Didn’t recognize me as a person to respect.

“You’ve given it up easy before.”

Fresh, boiling tears made their way down my overheated face as the words echoed over and over and over. The siren came back out.

My stomach began to cramp from the shaking. My body automatically curled up, trying to ease the pain.

I think that’s how my tia found me.

At first, I didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded too high, too screechy. Tia Jia was normally so calm and sweet sounding. Had it not been for the familiar smell of orange blossom, I wouldn’t have known it was her.

I’m not sure where she found me, but I was certain it wasn’t in my room. I don’t know how I managed to drive myself home that night, but I remember parking. I recall entering my house. I think I might have sat on the couch? The living room was the last thing I remembered physically seeing. Everything after was a blur—literally. The tears made it difficult to see anything.

The next time I recognized my surroundings, I was in my bed.

My head felt like it was splitting into pieces, but I was aware of my aunt holding me. Her scent and embrace sent a bit of warmth through me. When I realized she was there, I only cried harder. It was like I was a toddler and the only way I would feel better was through her touch and words. That’s what moms are for, right? To erase all the pain and make everything better?

I clutched her desperately. Praying she would be able to eradicate the ache.

But after what seemed an eternity, it was still there. The fucking pain was still present. It was the first time in my memory that my tia Jia couldn’t make it better. And this made my chest shatter. The siren in me wailed until my vocals gave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sweetheart, you have to eat.”

My tia Jia was sitting next to me in my bed, a tray on her lap.

The motherly strokes on my hair were comforting, but still not enough. It had been a while since my body exhausted itself. Tears were still coming out and my stomach, chest, and head still felt like they had gone through a car crash, but at least the wailing and shaking stopped. I could take normal breaths now, even though it still felt wrong.

“Sweetheart?” Tia Jia’s voice sounded strained, like in pain. I was alert enough to detect it.

There was another kick to the stomach. I felt guilty for my state. It must be tough on her. I could at least answer her. “No, thank you,” I let out. It hurt to speak.

My aunt heard the scratchiness in my voice. “At least have some water. Please.”

She sounded so desperate. I couldn’t say no. I lifted my hand, motioning for the water.

She quickly handed me the flask, which thankfully had a straw attached to it. I wouldn’t have to sit up to drink from it. Bringing the straw to my lips, I took a sip. My throat and dehydrated skin welcomed it. I was about to put it back down, but my logical mind forced my mouth to take at least one more long sip.

Closing the straw, I set down the flask next to me.

There was silence for a while again. The only thing I could feel was my tia’s touch on my hair and face.

Finally, she spoke up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Warm, new tears flowed down my cheeks.

“Did something happen with Namjoon?” she asked, gently.

I sniffed. “He broke it off.”

She let out a pained sigh. “Why?”

“I can’t do this, Maya. I can’t be in a relationship where it’s just about sex. I want more.”

New sobs began to make their way through my chest and traveled up my throat and down my eyes. “I’m not what he wants.”

It felt like a knife cut into my chest again. My old wounds still had not healed, so they quickly reopened.

Many years ago I developed a crush on Namjoon. I was quick to recognize it. However, for many reasons, I suppressed those emotions. One of those reasons had been that I knew I wasn’t his type. Physically or emotionally. Sure, he had eventually found me attractive and he started to develop a crush on me back. But he had realized last night I wasn’t built to be someone he could have a relationship with.

Namjoon was someone who loved to talk about philosophy and the human condition. We shared plenty of deep conversations, but I had never been able to fully let him in. There would always be a wall that prevented him from fully entering. And I just couldn’t take it down.

I explained little bits to my tia Jia about what Namjoon had said. I mentioned how my mother had called about the fucker. I admitted that I was still unable to talk to Namjoon about the incident and I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted to tell him about it. It was because of all my issues that made Namjoon not want me.

I curled into a ball as I finished my story to my tia. My stomach aches were starting again and my heart was racing pretty fast.

My tia applied some pressure on my chest. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.”

I followed her instructions. It took a few minutes but I had settled down again.

When my aunt felt safe to speak again, she did. “Sweetheart…what is keeping you from being fully transparent with Namjoon?”

I gave a pathetic shrug and didn’t answer. I knew it was a childish response.

“Well, I think it would be a good thing to figure out, don’t you think so?” she lightly pressed.

“Even if I did open up, I’m not what he wants, tia,” I mumbled.

“Now what would make you say that?” There was a bit of chiding in her tone.

“Because he’s known me for how long and I just now started catching his eye? He only became interested in me because I was the only girl around him who was available. After his bad break up, he’s been looking for a rebound.” I was finally voicing fleeting thoughts I had had in the starting part of my relationship with Namjoon. These thoughts had never lingered for too long, but in a state of complete low, my self-pity was scrapping for any negativity it could find.

My aunt wasn’t about to let me swim in that self-pity, though. “That breakup happened two years ago. His rebound was that girl he dated briefly earlier in the year. You are not his rebound.”

There was silence again.

My brain internally battled with my broken heart. Logically, I believed my tia Jia’s words, but the ache in my chest was marinading in the words that had shattered me.

“You’ve given it up easily before, whatever. I’m not that way.”

“The fact that…you did that with me…. I just don’t know how to feel about that.”

“We started this wrong. But like a fucking horndog, I gave in.”

“I can’t even say we can go back to being friends because I can’t. I can’t and won’t go back to that. I respect myself too much.”

“He still doesn’t want to be with me,” I said as my throat tightened. “It doesn’t matter if I tell him what he wants to hear. At the end of the day, my self-respect apparently doesn’t align with his. I’ll always be the girl who took it up the ass.”

“What?” Tia Jia asked, thrown off.

I hadn’t shared this piece of information with my aunt. The detail was a little too intimate for me to have shared with her. But I had spilled the beans; she couldn’t unhear it and I couldn’t unsay it.

“We had sex before the fight—before my mother called. It was anal.” I felt a flush of embarrassment hit my cheeks and neck, but I continued speaking. “During the fight, he brought up how he valued the act we had committed and I didn’t. I'm just a slut in his eyes.”

“He did not call you that,” my tia said with conviction. But then a beat later, she doubted herself. “Did he?”

“He might as well have,” I said in a small voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said simply. She didn’t say anything else, though. This time, she let me cry and wallow in my self-pity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I honestly couldn’t remember how that night went. I mostly stayed in my room. My tia stayed the night with me. I caught her a couple of times on my phone. I was sure she was taking care of things for me, not that I had a lot of meetings. I might have had one, but I honestly couldn’t care less about it.

I was grateful she was there to handle it.

I had never felt this vulnerable before. Never been so pathetic. The last time I felt this low had been many years ago when my cousin died. But that had been a different kind of heartache. I dealt with the death mostly in anger. This time, there was no one but me to be angry at.

And as much as I wanted to bathe in self-anger, I couldn’t. Sorrow was all I could feel.

My tia eventually had to leave. “Your Uncle John has an appointment, sweetheart. If you want, I can come right after.”

I shook my head at her. “I’m good.”

She stared at the food next to me on the bed. “At least eat the vegetables, please. You didn’t eat dinner last night and this morning, you only had a few grapes. Lunch was left completely untouched. The least you can do is eat the vegetables.”

I reached out to my plate and grabbed a celery, taking a bite without a word.

“Thank you,” she said genuinely. She began to gather her things. “If you need anything, just go downstairs. Someone’s here to keep an eye on you.”

I wanted to argue with her and tell her I didn’t need looking after. I was positive she had called Jenny, her daughter and my best friend from childhood, to come look after me. However, I knew my tia well enough to know it would do no good.

She came around and gave me a soft kiss. “I’m only a phone call away. Do you want your cell with you?” she asked as she motioned towards my night table.

I shook my head. It was getting close to it being 48 hours since I touched that thing. I wanted to stay away from it for as long as possible.

“Love you,” she said as she disappeared into the hall.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would come fast.

It did manage to come for several hours but my body had had enough of it. When I woke up, the stars had replaced the sun in the sky. There was a sudden sharp pain in my head. My body was angry at me for neglecting it. I pushed off the bed and felt an immediate cold.

I put on some pajama bottoms and put on thick socks. I think I had showered sometime yesterday because I surprisingly didn’t feel crusty. I touched my hair, feeling it damp. It was the confirmation I needed that I had, in fact showered sometime in the last 24 hours. Sometimes, I tended to put my hair up in a bun right after showering. This only prolonged my thick hair from fully drying.

After applying more layers of clothes and being grateful for not smelling, I took the plate of food that was still on my bed and took my water flask. Maybe I could microwave the food.

As I made my way down the hall, I adjusted the thermostat to warm up the house and went to get my food reheated.

Coming closer to the kitchen, I noticed the lights were on. After entering, I quickly saw the refrigerator open and a person standing behind it. Jenny must be up for a late-night snack.

“Don’t eat the cake; it’s gone bad,” I warned.

“I’m not craving sweets anyway,” came a deep and husky voice.

My heart stopped, panicking. I didn’t recognize the voice right away, so I acted on instinct. I placed down my food and took hold of the nearest, heavy object.

Before I could demand who was in my house, Yoongi’s head popped out from the other side of the fridge.

I let out a heavy and relieved sigh. “Son of a bitch, Yoongi. You scared the shit out of me.” I set down the heavy object, which turned out to be a rather pricey jar. Thank god I hadn’t used it. That would have been an expensive mistake.

He frowned. “I thought eomeonim told you I was here.”

I had completely forgotten I had invited Yoongi and his team to stay at my house. I had mentioned it to my Tia Jia after Yoongi agreed to stay over. The day we decided on Yoongi coming over, I was set to have a meeting. Tia Jia was going to be here to let Yoongi and the two guys in. That must have been last night. Or this morning. Shit, what day were we on?

I rubbed my head, feeling the sharp pain in my head again.

“Hungry?” Yoongi asked, a small hint of concern in his voice.

I nodded. “I was going to heat this up,” I said, motioning to the food.

He stared at the plate for a moment, no emotion given. Then reached over, took it, and placed it away from me. “Want a sandwich?” he asked as he turned around to the refrigerator again.

“It’s fine. I can just heat up the plate.”

“It’s gone bad.”

“Since when are you picky?” I asked, feeling irritated all of a sudden. “I’ve eaten pizza that’s been sitting out for 2 days.”

“Bet your stomach didn’t feel proud about that,” he muttered, taking out ingredients.

“I’m alive still, aren’t I?” I shot back.

He turned to me and did a once-over on me. He shook his head in disbelief. “Have you looked in the mirror? You look like death.”

I flipped him off.

That made him crack a smile. He reached for my water flask and filled it up.

I gladly took it, drinking a long sip.

We were quiet for a while as he put together a sandwich for me. Yoongi and I had eaten together plenty of times, not to mention cooked alongside one another. He knew my preferences.

After a long moment, he finally spoke up. “How you feeling?”

I took a breath, starting to feel my stomach get queasy. “Like shit,” I said genuinely.

I felt his eyes on me. He went still for a long moment, probably assessing what he could and should say.

There was a yearning in me that wanted to ask Yoongi about Namjoon. Fuck, just thinking of his name squeezed at my chest. An image of his beautiful dimples crossed my mind. The cluster of freckles across his nose and eyes would turn into a constellation whenever he smiled a certain way. But then the red eyes that were so full of hurt that night replaced the image, breaking my heart all over again.

The sound of a plate being placed down made me snap to the present. In front of me was a very good-looking sandwich. I knew Yoongi’s skills enough to know it was delicious. Yet, I had little interest in eating it. I knew my body needed to eat, so I took a few bites. I tasted the flavors of the ingredients and knew they were a perfect fusion, but I still felt zero enthusiasm for it. I managed to eat half of it, my stomach somewhat satisfied. After a few more sips of water, I felt the headache start to wear off.

When Yoongi noticed I was done eating, he finally spoke up. “Want to talk about it?”

It was strange because I did and I didn’t. I didn’t want to relive that night. But I also knew I needed to let out my emotions.

I took a breath and tried to control the tears that started to form in my eyes. “I can’t give him what he wants.” Saying the truth out loud hurt a lot more than just thinking about it.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke. “And what does he want?”

The warm tears made their way down. “Not me.”

There was silence for a long moment. The truth lingered in the air and pressed down on me.

After a long moment, Yoongi finally spoke. “Namjoon very rarely goes after something he is not sure about.”

There was almost a somber look on his face. He wasn’t looking at me, but in so many ways, it certainly felt like he was looking right into my eyes.

“He wants you, Maya.”

Conflicting emotions ran through me at hearing this. I knew Yoongi well enough to know that he was always honest. He would never say something he didn’t mean just to spare my feelings or make me feel better. But then Namjoon’s words the other night echoed in my head, telling me that I wasn’t what Namjoon wanted. It was so hard to think clearly.

“You don’t think he does.” Yoongi’s voice was soft and certain.

I gave a short nod, not trusting myself to speak without becoming a sobbing mess.

Yoongi let out a heavy sigh. “Sad.”

I was confused about what he meant by that. But, again, I was too scared to use words at the moment.

He stayed in the kitchen with me as I picked through my food. Eventually, we made our way over to the backyard where he drank his whisky into the night and I curled on the outside couch and looked up into the dark sky. I searched through the constellations, trying to find the freckles that would hopefully give me some solace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days passed slowly. My tia called several times, checking on me. I didn’t stay long with her on the phone, finding my throat too sore to speak for too long.

She didn’t push it. For a brief moment, I was a little confused why she wasn’t calling more often or insisting I stay on the phone with her longer. However, I noticed how closely Yoongi observed me. He usually was in the room with me or in the next room. I caught him texting a lot.

He used his phone for researching random facts, watching movies, documentaries, and playing odd mobile games. He had plenty of friends he messaged. Yes, he was usually glued to his phone, but I still noticed he was on it more than usual. I was certain he was keeping Tia Jia up to date about me.

Had his staff been around, I would have felt embarrassed about being treated like some fragile kid, but thankfully, Yoongi had sent them away insisting they explore the city on their own. A part of me wondered if they had heard about my walk of shame. Did they hear about how I had left Namjoon’s hotel room looking like some cheap whore?

The sting lingered throughout my chest, cracking my ribs.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Yoongi asked, pulling me away from my heartache.

It was night and I lived in a secluded area. Even if we came across other people, they wouldn’t be able to see us clearly. They wouldn’t notice Yoongi. I thought for a moment, debating with myself. I hadn’t left my house in days; hadn’t seen other faces. I had been bathing in my self-pity for many nights. Maybe it was time I snapped out of it. A walk would be good.

After nodding, we got ourselves ready and headed toward the beach.

We walked along the sand for a long while, and no words were said.

Eventually, Yoongi spoke. “How you feeling?”

Since the first night he had arrived, he asked me this towards the end of the day.

I gave a shrug. “A little better.”

He gave a nod. “Have you gone through your messages yet?” he asked carefully.

I had confessed to him yesterday morning I hadn’t looked through my messages since that night. I was scared to see Namjoon’s name on it—I couldn’t deal with reading through his words. Would they cut deeper? Bury me lower than I already was?

But what if he hadn’t written me? Somehow, his sending me nothing would be much worse.

Looking through my messages right now wouldn’t do me any good. I shook my head.

Yoongi let out a heavy sigh, similar to the one he had given the other night.

The scene replayed in my head and I remembered my unspoken question. I couldn’t ask it that night, but I could tonight. “What did you mean when you said ‘sad’ the other night?”

Yoongi was quiet for a moment. It was like he was thinking about his words carefully before speaking to them out loud. “I find it sad that you’re not allowing someone to truly see you.”

I was too stunned by his words to give a vocal response. My head turned to him, wondering if he was going to further elaborate.

He did. Keeping his eyes ahead, he continued his walk and I kept up. “As a friend of yours, I’ve seen parts of you—some of them aren’t great qualities—and still, I love you.”

Tears came to my eyes. It was rare to hear Yoongi tell me he loved me. Any time he did, it would move me because I knew it wasn't easy for him.

“You’ve been around Namjoon during some of his bad moments; moments that would paint him negatively. Do you feel differently about him—knowing and witnessing his bad qualities?”

Shaking I said softly but strongly, “No.”

“How do you feel after seeing him make mistakes and show his flaws?”

Moments of bad decisions Namjoon had made in his past crossed my mind. Yoongi’s question lingered throughout the memories. And all I could feel was my heart grow warm and expand.

I could feel Yoongi’s eyes on me. I hadn’t said a thing but seemed to be hearing my thoughts. “That’s what it means to care about someone—to accept the good and the bad. Whatever shit you’re afraid of in your past, fuck it. Don’t let it keep you from allowing someone amazing like Namjoon in.”

Suddenly, the face of the fucker entered my mind.

******His hands on me. I sat frozen, feeling my body lit up in flames.*******

Was the fucker the reason why I had this goddamn wall up? I thought I had moved on from him. Had he crept back into my subconscious and made me vulnerable again? Was he the reason why a wall existed that prevented me from allowing Namjoon in?

These last few days I thought it was just the way I was built. I could never be what Namjoon needed. I wasn’t made to let someone fully in. Having gone through therapy years ago I thought that I had grown as much as I could have.

I felt the arms around me before the tears. It wasn’t until Yoongi was hugging me that I noticed I had been crying. My face was wet, my nose was runny.

“It’s not just Namjoon that would like to break down that wall,” Yoongi said softly as he held me. “We all notice it. Some of us understand on a more personal level than others, unfortunately."

We shared a knowing look. He was meaning himself. Yoongi also had his wall. 

"You feel it's easier to keep people at a distance," he said, holding eye contact. "The guys taught me differently."

I looked away, feeling a bit of shame for having my faults.

Yoongi kept talking. "The guys and I normally never push—Namjoon especially. He respects boundaries. He allows everyone to open up at their own pace. But it's different with you. He needs more. And I believe you need more, too.”

Suddenly, my heartache grew. It was no longer just about a breakup. It was about learning that I was broken.

I needed fixing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I picked up my phone. My finger hovered over my KakaoTalk app. Dozens of notifications were still unread. Were any of them from Namjoon?

As much as I wanted to look through them, I knew deep down I shouldn’t click on them.

Not yet.

My finger moved over to Contacts, selecting and calling the person I was needing the most.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes were focused on the assistant’s desk. Since walking through the door, the feeling of déjà vu had been lingering through the air.

The lobby had remained the same. The portraits on the walls hadn’t changed. The couch I was sitting on was the same one as years ago.

I clutched my phone, this time having no one on the other end that was cheering me on for being where I was.

The urge to turn my phone on and go directly to my messages was strong. But like I had the other million times, I ignored it.

In my deluded, damaged mind I saw him sitting next to me. His dimples were deep and beautiful. That proud look was written all over his face.

“Hi, Maya. Come on in,” Dr. Rob said gently with a kind smile.

I returned the smile and got to my feet. As I made my way into his office, I could clearly hear Namjoon’s deep, timber voice behind me.

“hwaiting!”

As pathetic as it appeared, it worked. I felt a sudden burst of courage.

---------------

MASTERLIST

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

[afza147]

RM Come Back To Me MV

With his wife and daughter💜😍

[gimmethatagustd]

gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Notes: Inspired by this tweet. I hope you enjoy the first drabble of my 100 Drabble Challenge I'm doing with @sailoryooons - Please check out Hali's drabbles throughout 2024, too! Happy New Year, besties! ✨

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm. 

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please. 

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest. 

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip. 

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man. 

“Did she?” 

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…” 

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced. 

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually! 

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?” 

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck. 

“She’s adorable,” you say softly. 

“She’s weird as shit.” 

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs. 

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.” 

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.” 

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?” 

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids. 

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.” 

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals. 

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you. 

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.” 

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised. 

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence. 

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.” 

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are. 

“You’re the one who–” 

“HEY! NO HITTING!” 

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology. 

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager. 

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around. 

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon. 

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.” 

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye. 

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist. 

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?” 

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.” 

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[explicit-tae]

One Way Or Another (2/2)

After nearly 3 years, your therapist encourages you to let the past be the past - "what can go wrong after all these years?" she says. @silversparkles11 @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @mak7sstuff @namjinsworld @laylasbunbunny @roseki @castlewolfsbane @babycandy111 @minshookie29 @btsw1fe @kyglover @trevsinz @roseki

Part 1

i'm so sorry this took a whole year :')

Word Count: 7.295

Warning: dark themes, smut, yandere, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, mentions of dark sexual desire, noncon/dubcon, creep jungkook, kidnapping, acts of violence, narcissistic behavior, unsolicited grinding/groping, unprotected sex, creampie,

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighs over the phone, his voice cracking. “she’s so beautiful…”

Namjoon sighs over the other line. “Where are you?”

Jungkook’s legs begin to bounce, the child lying against him. “With my daughter.” was not the response Namjoon is expecting. He’s silent, unsure if his ears heard what Jungkook actually said. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N never told me…” Jungkook’s voice cracks once more. “...Why would she leave me, hyung? Leave with my daughter?”

Namjoon can hear the rage in Jungkook’s voice, getting higher as he speaks. “Calm down, Kook.” Namjoon begins. “Are you with Y/N now?”

Jungkook scoffs. “No. She left my daughter with a babysitter.”

Namjoon sighs in relief. “Alright.” he begins. “What are you planning on doing?”

Jungkook presses a kiss against the child’s head, holding her in an embrace that he doesn’t want to release her from. His heart is full, even when he knows it would just be broken by you once more.

For years he had tried to search for you to come up with nothing - all until a few months prior. He had to thank Namjoon for it, his hyung having a lead that led him to you.

 You looked so different, yet still so beautiful. It causes a smile to form on Jungkook’s lips watching you - he wants to come to you. He wants to reach out and hug you and declare how much he missed you.

But Jungkook didn’t - you weren’t ready. So what he chose to do was continue to watch - and when his eyes caught on you and the small child, he nearly cried; both in rage and in joy. Joy because this was his first child that resembled him more than not. Rage because you had left him with his child, refusing to come back home where you belonged. 

Now here Jungkook was holding his child, the small girl welcoming him with open arms. She’s sweet, willingly allowing him to hold her close and kiss her head once she heard that he was her dad - even at her young age. 

Jungkook’s attention peaks when he hears the water to the shower turn off. He sighs, annoyance running through him. He sets his daughter down, upset that his time with her was so little, but the babysitter - one who was not worthy to be around his child - was moments away from returning. 

“My beautiful daughter.” Jungkook presses another kiss to her head, sighing into it. “Appa will be back, okay?” he says, smiling down at her. 

“O-kay.” the soft voice hits Jungkook’s ears and it takes everything in him to leave her there. 

“Obviously I need to get my family back, hyung.” Jungkook responds, dipping out the front door just as he hears the door to the bathroom open. 

“I agree.” Namjoon says. “Don’t do anything too rash, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but when it comes to having you and his daughter in his life, nothing was “too” rash.  He had to start with whoever this Stefan person was in your life.

“You like this guy, right? Your co-worker?” your therapist questions. 

Your head lays in your hands as you nod it, leaning back against the decorative chair - the same one you’ve sat in once a week for years now.

“It’s been a year since you opened up about your past.” she notes. “What you’ve been through with that man is terrible, Y/N.”

That man - your therapist never says Jungkook’s name. She refuses after you told her the entire truth of what you’ve endured by him.

“That does not mean love is out of the picture.” she leans forward with a soft smile on her lips. “You’ve spoken fondly of your co-worker. Do you like him?”

Your mind thinks of Stefan. You met him when you first moved and started a new job - and life away from what you were accustomed to. It was a stressful move that had you constantly looking over your shoulder, terrified that Jungkook would be there.

Stefan, however, appeared to be a breath of fresh air. He was charming in his own way, someone that could make you laugh when you needed it. He was persistent, but never pushy.

But even if Stefan was everything you thought you needed, you weren’t sure you could ever pursue him. You were left traumatized after Jungkook - the constant calls and messages to your phones; oftentime threatening. The amount of times he was able to find you when you thought you’d lost him - only when you filed for a temporary restraining order did it stop. But temporary was the keyword, nothing was ever permanent. Jungkook was a charming man to the public, flashing a smile and batting his eyelashes and everything he’s done could be washed away. 

The first chance you took to move away, you did, not caring if the restraining order would be voided. Jungkook would know where you’d be - he’ll have to know where he couldn’t go.

Even now, years later, you could hear the harsh, threatening words from Jungkook. “I hate that you choose them over me.” Jungkook said about Lina and any type of friendship you had. “You’re leaving me because I care about your well-being?” when you attempted to end it with him, and the cherry on top being, “You look at me as if I would ever hurt you. I could kill you then myself…but I’ve never thought about doing that once.” and somehow, you weren’t convinced.

“Y/N?”

You blink a few times to come back to reality. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize to me.” your therapist shakes her head. “You do that often. You get in your head and it’s hard to get out of it.”

You smile weakly at her. Your eyes turn towards the clock on her desk facing you. “Looks like time is up.” you murmur.

“Ah, I suppose so.” your therapist eye’s you as you rise from your seated position and gather your belongings. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” you say to her with knitted brows. 

“Happy Birthday to your daughter. She turns 3 today, correct?”

You smile, nodding your head. “Yes. Ava is turning 3.” you say. “I actually have to go pick her up.”

Your therapist nods. “I know she’ll have an amazing birthday.”

You tried your best to give your daughter everything she needed. It’s not easy - nothing in your life ever was, especially now. 

Finding out you were pregnant in the midst of getting away from Jungkook was not something you wanted to deal with - yet and still, an abortion is not something you wanted to go through. Your pregnancy was a rough one  - you’ve grown depressed and rotted yourself in self-pity. You couldn’t fully connect with your daughter until the end of your pregnancy when reality was settling in that you were going to be a mother. 

As you held your daughter in your arms the day she was born, your heart swells with love, even if she appeared similar to the man you didn’t wish to see. You wanted her to be nothing but safe and feel all the love from you that she couldn’t feel from another parent. 

“Think about it, Y/N.” your therapist speaks as she walks you towards her office door. “You deserve happiness, as well. What can go wrong after all these years?” she says. 

A shudder runs up your spine for the first time in years at her words, unsure truly as to why.

“You’re so messy.” you laugh at your daughter, going to wipe her face from the pasta sauce that is smeared on her cheeks. 

You and Ava are seated in the small restaurant, an intimate moment between the two of you. She was older now, and you always wanted to give her the birthday she deserves. However, you aren’t making the amount of money you once were - working at Sapphire's after dark made you more money in one night than you do now with a paycheck. You could only ever afford to take her somewhere to eat and a small cake.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.Sometimes as parents, we blame ourselves for not being able to give our children the world.” your therapist has said a week prior. You had cried how you wanted to give your daughter more, but couldn’t afford to. “But children don’t want the world, they want their parent’s love and support.”

It’s advice you often have to repeat so you wouldn’t put yourself down. 

“Wanna eat your cake?” you sniffle, blinking a few times to regain focus.

“Yes.” your daughter nods meekly, her voice so soft that it causes you to coo.

The cake is small and round. It’s chocolate, her favorite, and you are quick to cut her a piece. You aren’t hungry and would often watch her eat, satisfied with her being fed. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, noticing how her eyes would flicker from her cake up towards you. “Do you not like the cake?”

Ava shakes her head. “Where’s appa?”

You’re positive that your face pales, possibly looking as if you saw a ghost.

“W-What do you mean, baby?” you stutter. Ava has never asked for her father - or any father at that. This is the first time you’re hearing this and your heart is pumping with nerves. 

“Where is appa?” Ava asks again, this time a little higher. “Appa said he will be back.”

Your heart begins to beat loudly outside your chest. Your throat tightens, unable to respond to your daughter. Your mind is racing at her words - again, Ava never speaks like this. 

What does she mean he said he’ll be back?

“Come on, baby.” you gather the cake in your hands to save it for later. You’re trembling and it angers you. You don’t want your daughter to see you like this. “We have to go home.”

“I wanna see Appa.” Ava’s voice is growing softer and you’re certain she was going to cry. You shake your head, eyes bouncing around the restaurant. The familiar feeling was coming back - the feeling of being stared at. You haven’t felt this way in over a year. 

“Ava, baby. We have to go.” you don’t allow your daughter to continue with her tantrum. You place money down on the table, gather your daughter and the cake and journey out of the restaurant. 

“Y/N?” the sound of Yuri’s voice sounds through your phone. “Is everything alright?”

“I-I…can you watch Ava?” you murmur. “I’m sorry this is so last minute. I-I know I just picked her up but-”

“Y/N, calm down.” Yuri quips. “Are you alright? You sound so scared.”

You weren’t alright, but you couldn’t tell Yuri - or anyone - anything. You look down at Ava walking besides you, her small hand in yours. Her eyes are up at you, a slight sad look on her face. 

“Y/N…” Yuri trails off at your silence. “...I can watch Ava no problem.”

“Thank you, Yuri. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize.” Yuri interrupts you. “You know I love Ava.”

Yuri was someone you were grateful for. You were grateful for your therapist for helping you find Yuri - she was her niece, after all. She was young and attending college. She lived in an apartment fully paid by her parents as long as she attended college. She was a sweet girl and Ava loved her just as much as she loved Ava.

It took ten minutes for you to be at Yuri’s door, her already meeting you. She slightly pats Ava’s head as you arrive. 

“Here’s her cake, I, um…she didn’t really get a chance to eat it.” your heart drops. Yuri notices that you’re trembling still as she takes the cake. “Thank you so much, Yuri.”

“Y/N, please. Are you safe?” Yuri drops her tone to assure Ava isn’t listening. The television is on in the livingroom and she’s already seated in front of it. 

“Yes.” you nod, even if you’re unsure yourself. “I just…have to go talk to your aunt and-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” Yuri shakes her head. She doesn’t know your backstory, and she understands that her aunt being your therapist that it isn’t something she could ask. But the terrified look in your eyes is what worries her. 

You nod. “Thank you.” you were grateful for Yuri, truly.

Within 20 minutes, you were back at your therapist's office. You were speaking nonstop, going through countless scenarios of what Ava could be speaking of about her father - stating that he would be coming back. 

“Sometimes children have imaginary friends. Especially at her age.” your therapist stands to calm you. “She probably made up her own father figure to make up for the lack of it.”

“But,” you shake your head. “I don’t think-”

“Y/N. It’s been years.” 

You inhale, counting in your head. You exhale.

“Ava is fine. You are fine.” your therapist assures. “Ava is growing older. She will soon ask about where her father is as she enters school. She will see her peers have something that she does not.”

Your head falls into your hands at her words. 

You didn’t want this for Ava - you wanted to be everything she needed. You wished she had a father figure, but if Jungkook was that, you’d rather do everything alone. 

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t an amazing mother. You are. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“She asked about him.” you say meekly. “She said that he was coming back as if…she saw him. Can children imagine so vividly?”

Your therapist nods. “The imagination of a child is unmatched. I suggest you sit down and speak with her. She may be 3, but she’s a growing child.”

As you were about to respond, your phone sounds with a notification. It’s Stefan, you note, his name dashing through your screen. 

“Respond to it.” your therapist nods. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He can be a psycho.” you murmur, but even you didn’t believe that. Stefan didn’t share any red flags with you and acted like a complete sweetheart.

But again, so did Jungkook in the beginning. 

“Don’t allow yourself to not feel love because of your past, Y/N.” your therapist gives you a small smile.

“He…wants to meet up.” you sigh. “I can’t it’s Ava’s birthday and-”

“Does he know about Ava?”

You nod.

“Do you not want to bring him around Ava yet?”

Slowly, you shrug your shoulders. You didn’t want Ava to get the wrong idea, especially now that she was growing older and wanting a father figure. Yet, you didn’t want to hide the fact that you had a daughter from Stefan.

“I can see you aren’t comfortable just yet with the idea of dating.” she says. “That doesn’t mean you and him can’t be friends, right? Hang around one another with Ava. See how he interacts with her. If he’s good with Ava, then it’s a step forward, no?”

You nod. “I suppose you’re right…”

You begin to text Stephan back, eyes glancing at your therapist for comfort. 

“I said we can um, meet at a cafe.” you murmur, a hot feeling growing throughout you. You haven’t felt this way in years - since Jungkook. 

“That’s good.” she smiles widely at you. “It’s good, right?”

“Yeah…I guess it is good.” you take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for coming back here so suddenly.”

“Please don’t apologize, Y/N.” your therapist assures. “You’re a mother and were worried for your child. Trust me, Ava and you are safe. You aren’t terrible for feeling the way you do after all you’ve been through.”

Hearing her words is encouraging. You just want Ava to be safe in the end - it’s your main goal. You loved Ava with all your heart, wanting to give her the life she deserves. She deserves a mother who wasn’t always looking over her shoulder afraid of a man who’s probably given up on her. 

“Thank you.” you mumble, clenching your phone in your hand.

“Appa!” 

Yuri watches as Ava runs into the man’s arm. He picks her up and holds her close. “Hey, baby.” he says softly to the little girl. “Happy birthday! Look what Appa got you.”

Jungkook is holding a small, pink bag in his hands.

“You said you’re Y/N’s-”

“Ex.” Jungkook nods his head, not liking the word a bit. “Ava’s father.”

Yuri has an uneasy feeling in her stomach as Jungkook speaks. “She told me to watch Ava-”

“I know. But I think I should be the one taking her now.” Jungkook smiles at the younger girl. “Y/N had a bit of a scare earlier.” Jungkook chuckles. “She told me to come get her.”

Yuri furrows her brows. “Really? She didn’t text-”

“Again. She’s going through something right now.” Jungkook interrupts, holding onto Ava tightly. He didn’t want to harm Yuri - not while he had his daughter. But if she was going to stick her nose in business that didn’t involve her, then he wouldn’t have a choice to. 

“I guess you’re right…” Yuri trails off, recalling the way you appeared seconds away from crying. Her eyes turn to Ava - the girl finally looked happy since you left. Everything she has tried to do to get the girl to cheer up has failed. “...Happy Birthday, Ava.”

Jungkook smiles, turning to his daughter. Yuri was smart, afterall. “Thank you for taking care of her.” he says sincerely then bows to bid his farewell. 

Jungkook strolls out of the apartment complex and towards his car. He opens the back seat and places Yuri inside of it, having already bought a car seat for her to sit in. He straps her in and couldn’t help but place another kiss on her forehead. “Here, baby. Happy birthday.” he says to her, handing her the pink bag with the gift inside.

Jungkook gets inside the driver seat and starts the car. Jungkook begins to drive, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror to assure his daughter was okay. “Are you happy you and Appa are going for a ride?”

Ara nods, her smile has yet to falter. Inside the pink bag had been a stuffed animal - the biggest she’s ever gotten - of a bunny. She holds it close to her that Jungkook just knows that when you finally came home, he would make it his mission to buy his daughter a mountain of them. 

“Appa?”

Jungkook’s hand clenches the steering wheel. He’s upset with you. Hearing his daughter call for him has a rush of emotions flowing through him - and he blames you for keeping this moment from him. How would you raise a child without a father in the home? “Yes, baby?”

“Where’s e-eomma?”

“Eomma is meeting us at home.” Jungkook says with a slight smile. He couldn’t wait to be reunited with you. “But Appa has to make a stop.”

“Stop where?”

Toddlers and their questions, Jungkook thinks. “To the lake.” he answers. 

Ava is satisfied with the response for now, and Jungkook continues to drive. 

Finding whoever Stefan was had been easy. He’s upset to know that the name has come up far too many times for his liking, and the months he has been following you, he’s grown to realize that the man was your co-worker - someone you had to see often. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that Stefan liked you more than he should, and that would cost him his life. Surely, it would be easier to just take you, his daughter and leave - yet that wouldn’t satisfy him. Knowing that you took his daughter from him - and took away the experience of him holding his child the day she was born - he had to find a way to punish you. “You’re too nice to her.” he recalls Namjoon saying one day. “She’ll never respect you as you are.” and his hyung was correct. Now three years later here we were - all because you wanted to be selfish.

“Going swimming?” Ava’s voice sounds through his ears as Jungkook parks the car. The sun is minutes from setting, the dark hue in the sky. The clouds are forming, as well, and he’s positive that the moon will be shining bright tonight. 

“Not us, no.” Jungkook removes his seatbelt. 

“I come?” Ava asks as she witnesses Jungkook get out of the car. 

“Of course.” Jungkook coos, opening the door to the back and removing Ava from her carseat. The bunny is held tightly in her embrace as she places her head on Jungkook's shoulders.

Jungkook goes around to the trunk and opens it. “Looks like Stefan’s awake, baby.” Jungkook cackles, his eyes darkening at the sight of the tied up man. “He was taking a little nap in the trunk.”

“Why?” Ava’s soft voice asks over the muffled screams of Stefan. He has tape around his mouth and rope around his wrist and ankles. Ava doesn’t appear to be frightened as a normal child would - but then again, she’s with her father. Jungkook would never allow any harm to come towards her. 

“Must’ve been sleepy.” Jungkook shrugs. “Appa’s going to put you down, okay?”

“Oh-kay.”

Jungkook places Ava down, patting her head slightly. He then proceeds to yank Stefan out of the trunk, the man falling with a thump, along with a pocket knife that he attempted to use against Jungkook.

Jungkook goes to grab the pocket knife out of Ava’s reach, the little girl already attempting to reach for it. He places it inside his pocket and turns back to Stefan. “Let’s go.” he states, but it isn’t like the man can move. Instead, he is dragged from the muddy scenery towards the lake.

Stefan’s muffled screams get a bit louder, but not loud enough. He’s squirming against his restraints, so much so that it begins to annoy Jungkook. “Stop resisting!” he hisses, his boot kicking Stefan in the ribs. “To think you had a chance with my girl is insane.”

The wooden dock is long and narrow. It creeks underneath Jungkook’s feet as he walks all the way to the end of it. 

“To think all Y/N had to do was not leave me.” Jungkook looks down at Stefan, the terrified look in his eyes comical. “Maybe then you would’ve lived to see tomorrow.”

Jungkook kicks Stefan into the lake. His body makes a splash, water wetting his boots. Jungkook turns away and makes his way back to Ava. “Such a good girl!” he cheers, scooping her into his arms. “Ready to see eomma?”

Ava nods, rubbing her eyes slightly. 

"You must be tired. Let’s go home, baby.”

Your eyes stare down at the text-message in horror, your body completely stiff.

Yuri: Hey, Y/N. Just to let you know, Ava went home with her father. She looked so excited to see him. I hope you’re feeling better than before. Please try to get some rest.

Your world feels as if something crashed through you. Your throat was tightening up and tears were swelling in your eyes. Your hands trembled, nearling dropping your phone several times. 

Ava’s father.

Ava’s father.

Ava didn’t have a father - not someone you agreed upon. She didn’t have someone you co-parent with.

Ava’s father.

That meant the feeling from before was true - the feeling of being stared at.

Jungkook was back.

Jungkook had found you.

Jungkook knows about Ava - he has Ava.

Your hands tremble as you go through a message thread you hadn’t opened in years - even after multiple number changes.

You swallow the thick lump in your throat as you press call, bringing it to your ear.

It only rings once.

“About time you called.”

Hearing Jungkook’s voice after all these years causes the hair on your body to rise. It brings back memories you want to suppress.

“Is Ava okay?”

“What type of question is that?” Jungkook hisses. He’s driving, you note, you can hear cars in the background. “I would never hurt our daughter.”

Our daughter. 

Your blood runs cold. 

“Please, Jungkook.” your voice cracks as you begin to cry, no longer caring. You just wanted Ava safe, and as of right now, she wasn’t. Not with Jungkook - anyone but him. 

“Aww, don’t cry, my love.” Jungkook’s taunting you. “I’ll see you at home.”

The line goes out before you can speak. 

Your home wasn’t far, only a few blocks away. But you’re sprinting there, pushing past anyone in your way. Your chest is heaving and your appearance was anything but presentable. 

There’s a car outside your home that you don’t recognize. It sits right outside of it - a sign that Jungkook was here.

“Ava’s asleep.” Jungkook says as you barge into the home. He’s seated in your livingroom, Ava in his arms. She’s asleep, clutching a stuffed animal you haven’t seen before. “Why are you looking at her like that? I said I’d never hurt her.”

You swallow. “I-I know.” you murmur. You don’t want to upset Jungkook. You’re positive that he’s already pissed having found not only you, but his child. “C-Can I…um…let’s put her to bed.”

Jungkook watches you for a moment, but nods. He follows you down the hall and towards a small room. A few toys are sprawled out on the floor. He places her in her bed and lifts the covers. “My pretty baby…” he murmurs, kissing her cheek. “So beautiful.”

The sight would warm your heart if it wasn’t Jungkook.

“I usually turn this on.” you murmur towards her desk. It’s a small humidifier that you flick on. It makes a noise as it works, a white noise that keeps Ava sleep during some nights.

“Come.” Jungkook turns away from you. “We need to talk.”

The door to Ava’s bedroom closes behind you. You usually don’t close her door at all - she didn’t prefer to be left in the dark. However, you wanted her far from you and Jungkook’s conversation.

Jungkook walks in your home as if he’s familiar with it, opening the door to your bedroom and flickering on the light. You no longer fight with your mind, contemplating if you were delusional or not.

Jungkook had been watching you - you’re sure of it. How long, you’re unsure. But you’re positive that he has. Ava is a sweet girl and far too trusting for your own liking, but you didn’t want to corrupt her mind when it came to meeting new people - and now you blame yourself. She had asked for her father because Jungkook had made himself present to her before…

Your heart aches at the revelation that you weren’t safe, and haven’t been for years.

“I thought about what I’d do when I saw you.” Jungkook begins just as you close the door to your bedroom. “When you first left, I’d admit I was angry.”

Jungkook looks nearly the same as he did 3 years prior - he added a few piercings and you’re positive he added more tattoos underneath his clothing. His eyes are the same, piercing right through you like they had many times before. 

“I never thought about hurting you more than I did the moment I found you.” The silence after Jungkook’s words is loud and deafening. You contemplated if you’d be able to get out the room and run down the hall to Ava’s for an escape, but you know he wouldn’t allow it. 

“You took my daughter away from me, Y/N. What have I done to you to deserve that?” Jungkook’s voice raises just a bit and you flinch when he steps closer to you. “You hate me that much? Was I not the one funding your lifestyle?”

“I didn’t ask you to.” you retort quietly - regretting it just as quickly as you said it. 

Jungkook scoffs. “I didn’t have to?” he says. “You were my girl. I gave you everything you wanted and more. Then you send a restraining order and leave with my-”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant!” you hiss. But even that wouldn’t have made you return to Jungkook.

“Your excuses aren’t good enough for me, Y/N.”

You yelp when Jungkook lunges at you. He flings you around, hands digging into your skin. You and he stumble a bit until he shoves you away. Your face is planted into your mattress, him pressed firmly against you.

Jungkook presses his nose into your hair and inhales deeply. He shudders. “You still smell the same.” he murmurs, his hips rocking against you.

You’re frightened to your core, unsure what in the world you’re supposed to say or do in this situation. You couldn’t think of just yourself anymore - Ava was just in the other room. You couldn’t trust Jungkook completely to not harm her if it meant hurting you.

“Why don’t you love me?”

Jungkook’s mood changes quickly, he leans back to yank your hair. You fight back a scream at how hard he tugs. You’re pressed firmly against his back, his nose against the nape of your neck.

“No answer…?” Jungkook hums against your neck. His hands let go of your hair, trailing to your shoulders. “...Did you love Stefan?”

You gulp, your breathing so loud that it echoes off of your walls. 

How did he know about Stefan?

Your heart thumps with anticipation for Jungkook to continue. 

“I hope you didn’t. He’s dead.”

Jungkook’s right hand grips your neck, a yelp releasing from your throat. You struggle to get away from his grasp, but Jungkook wasn’t going to allow it. He wasn’t going to allow you to leave him again - especially not with his daughter. 

“I’m tired of being nice to you, Y/N. You don’t like me being nice.” Jungkook squeezes your neck a bit harder, you grunts only fueling the erection in his pants. “I had to kill a man to make sure you know that I’m serious. Here,”

Jungkook is quick to remove his phone from his pocket and go through his photos. Your eyes widen at the picture of Stefan, bound and gagged in what appeared to be the trunk of a car.

Your stomach feels sick and you snap your head away to get the image out of your head. You can feel the tears lining your eyes.

“You killed him, Y/N. I wouldn’t have done anything if you didn’t leave with my daughter.” Jungkook pushes you away from him, releasing your neck. You fall against the mattress roughly, but you don’t have the strength in you to fight anymore.

“Why are you crying?” Jungkook snickers. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You want me to treat you like this, so I am.”

You’re flipped over once more, your back hitting your mattress. Your tears blur your vision of Jungkook, and it pains him to see how terrified you were of him - but this is what you wanted. You didn’t want the nice, protective boyfriend he was trying to be.

“I gave you everything, Y/N. And you left me.” Jungkook’s tugging at your shirt so roughly that you aren’t surprised it rips. Your room is cold, colder than it’s ever been. “You forced me to find you here with my daughter. You’re struggling, barely able to afford anything. The cherry on top was you agreeing to meet that man…” Jungkook shakes his head, rage bubbling up through him again. “You were going to have that man around my daughter, Y/N. How selfish can you be?”

Your bra comes off next, and Jungkook takes a deep breath. How he missed you beneath him, your sweet moans dancing in his ears. His hands grip your breast entirely, his thumbs rubbing along your erect nipples.

“I think you like the way I��m touching you now.” Jungkook murmurs. “Is this what it was, Y/N? You wanted me to be a little rough?”

You shake your head, sobs spilling out of your lips.

“Then what was it? Why did you leave me?” Jungkook’s thumb continues to rub circles on your nipples. “You took away our daughter. I didn’t have the chance to see her first steps because you want to be selfish.”

Jungkook pinches and pulls at your nipples, but you only liked that. Jungkook knows your body - even after all these years.

Jungkook’s hard, you note. You can feel it twitching against your clothed heat. Your eyes blink away the tears, throat so tight that you’re unsure if you could truly speak. “Are…are you going to hurt me?”

Jungkook tilts his head, eyes looking at your weeping figure. So fragile - so hopeless. 

Jungkook has witnessed your walls begin to crumble down. Any resistance you had was tumbling right before him. You weren’t going to fight him anymore - the sooner you realized that it was pointless, the sooner he could treat you how he wants to and not how he has to.

“I want to.” Jungkook admits. “I want to hurt you and show you how bad you’ve hurt me all these years. But I love you.”

You want to laugh - because this couldn't be love. This isn’t what you want Ava to grow up and endure.

“I love you so much, Y/N, that I can’t bear hurting you. But if I have to live with hating myself, I will.”

Jungkook’s right hand dips down slowly, as if taunting you to react. It goes beneath your pants to touch between your legs.

“If I have to hurt you to make sure you never leave me again…” Jungkook’s finger twirls around your clit, satisfied with how wet it was for him. “...I will, Y/N.”

You’re stiff, even when Jungkook removes his fingers and plop them inside his mouth. His eyes flutter, a deep groan coming from his throat. “How I missed the way you taste, my love.”

Your heart races - as does your mind. 

You’re powerless.

Jungkook was not going to let you go - not without hurting you. You didn’t know how far hurting you went, but you didn’t want to find out.

You begin to cry harder, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Please don’t h-hurt Ava.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I’ll never hurt her!” he hisses. “Stop crying, Y/N. I want to give our daughter the life she deserves. With a mother and father.” he coos, going to wipe your falling tears. “Ava deserves to be in the best schools money can offer. I can offer. Would you really deny her an amazing life just because you want to be selfish?”

Jungkook’s words sting.

You wanted Ava to have an amazing life - she was your main priority. You couldn’t afford the best schools or luxuries like Jungkook could, and the thought has your heart breaking.

“Doesn’t Ava deserve to have two parents who love her?” Jungkook asks. “Or would you rather her grow up thinking her father left her? Are you going to tell her you didn’t allow me to father her? That you took the first man that’s going to love her away?”

Jungkook knew what to say to hurt you - to get you to submit to him fully. He was going to use Ava to his advantage - if that is what it took to have you and her back in his life. He didn’t want to hold you hostage. He wanted you to come to him willingly and be the family he knows you and he could be; for his daughter.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Jungkook’s face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin. “Don’t you want us to be a family? For Ava’s sake?”

You swallow.

You wanted Ava safe. You wanted her to have a good life - the life any child deserves. 

Your mind is screaming at you to fight Jungkook off - to take Ava and leave.

But where would you go? You couldn’t stay here and you could only run so far until Jungkook found you. You were tired of living your life in fear - constantly looking over your shoulder for Jungkook to come and take you away.

So, you had to make your own decision. You had to choose Ava over you.

Jungkook is surprised when he feels your lips on his so suddenly, but he doesn’t dwell. He melts into your lips, arms wrapping firmly around you.

“My good girl…” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “...I knew you’d choose the right choice.”

You want to laugh - you didn’t have a choice. It was either go with Jungkook willingly or against your will.

Your legs wrap around Jungkook and he allows you to flip him. Jungkook watches you with wide eyes. 

You had to do this, you think. You had to do this for your safety and for the AVa’s future. Maybe if you didn’t give in to Stockholm Syndrome, then maybe when Ava’s away at college you’d be able to escape.

You want to laugh at your unfortunate circumstance.

“Do you promise Ava will be okay?”

Jungkook’s eyes soften at your tone. He nods his head. “You have my word. You and Ava will be okay.”

You weren’t convinced about yourself, but as long as Ava was, then you wouldn’t care about the life you live alongside him.

“Okay.” you murmur. “The humidifier sometimes keeps her asleep. Not all the time.”

Jungkook nods his head. 

“Sometimes she’ll wake up because she wants to sleep with me.” you swallow. “We have about another half an hour before she might.”

Jungkook’s ear perks, and he nods rapidly.

You lift yourself from him, going to kick off your pants and underwear. You haven’t been with Jungkook (or any many) in so long, that you feel betrayed by yourself for being wet.

Jungkook wants to take his time with you - to run his tongue all over your body like he used to. To pleasure you until you’re cumming against his tongue.

But, there wasn’t any time now. And that was okay - because you are his now. Forever. What he couldn’t do now, he’d do next time.

Jungkook kicks off his own pants and underwear, revealing how excited he was to have you once more.

You swallow, getting onto your bed. You don’t want to face Jungkook - not now at least, pressing your face against the mattress and arching your back.

“It’ll get better, my love.” Jungkook murmurs, pressing himself again you. His lips are against your shoulder, peppering you with soft kisses. “If you’ll allow me to love you the way I want to, it’ll be good.”

You nod your head sullenly.

You’re wetter than Jungkook expects. He rubs his tip against your clit and between your folds to lube himself up. He gulps as he inches closer to your entrance. “So tight…” he says to himself, inching himself closer and closer until he’s in fully. “...all for me.”

Your hands grip your bedsheets, the feeling of a cock in you becoming foreign with time. 

Jungkook begins to thrust, slow at first until your wetness completely engulfs him. Then, he picks up the pace. Hands gripping your waist to completely hold you into place, his eyes stuck on the way your pussy takes him so good - just how he remembers it. 

You’re sure your clenching around him only fuels Jungkook to go harder, but your body is working against you. You don’t want it to feel good - you hated Jungkook. You hated the way he forced himself back into your life and gave you an ultimatum. He was a monster, admitting to killing an innocent man just because you left him.

But your body loved Jungkook - always had. His cock pumps inside of you with such need, never getting tired. You can feel your juices pooling out of you and onto your thighs, and even your moans are becoming hard to be suppressed.

You hated Jeon Jungkook with a passion; this is the man that got you fired from your job and turned your life upside down. The same man that admitting to wanting to hurt you for the pain that ‘you’ caused him.

But you loved the way Jeon Jungkook fucks with with such passion; such love. His right hand presses itself against your clit, rubbing with need. His lips are pressed loving kisses against your back.

Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, never wanting to be let go. Your legs widen to have even more of him, and Jungkook gives you exactly what you’re asking for. The pleasure is so good that you no longer hide your moans as they’re growing higher and higher by the second. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Jungkook grunts, his grinding never stopping. He was so deep, hitting places that hadn't been touched in years. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise to be better…I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Don’t believe him, your brain tells you. Jungkook’s lying. He wasn’t sorry in the slightest - he would hurt you again and again if you didn't bend to his every will.

But your heart crumbles at Jungkook’s words. You once loved Jeon Jungkook, and maybe there’s somewhere in you that always will. Everytime you looked at Ava, you saw her father. Those doe eyes looking up at you each day are the ones belonging to the monster that was Jungkook. 

Your heart thumps at Jungkook’s words because you want to believe them - believe that he would never hurt you or cause you such pain; but your brain doesn’t want you to lead with your heart.

“I love you, baby. You know that.” Jungkook grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppy. If he could fuck you like this for hours, he would. Years he’s been without you could that a half an hour could not satiate him. 

Jungkook lifts you from the bed. He presses you against him, continuing to pound into you. His left hand forces your head to turn to look at him. “I love you, Y/N. Everything I did has been for you.” 

“I…I know…” you moan.

You were weak - and soon you’d regret your actions and not fighting back against Jungkook.

But you missed Jungkook - you missed the kind Jungkook. The soft Jungkook who held you at night and would listen to you talk about any and everything for hours. 

Maybe that Jungkook could come back, you think. As long as you didn’t do anything to upset him and accept the fate that was bestowed upon you.

“Say you love me back, baby.” Jungkook pleads. He needs to hear it - he hasn’t in so long.

Jungkook’s right hand continues to rub aggressively on your clit, his mouth on yours. His tongue suckles on yours for dominance - dominance he already had against you. 

“What’s the worst that can happen after all these years?” your therapist's voice rings through your mind.

The ironic - a part of you feel like the universe is playing a game on you.

“I love you, too.” you say against Jungkook’s tongue, feeling your high reaching. You’re so wet that you can hear the disgusting squelching sounds of your pussy, completely satisfied that it’s getting stuffed.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grumbles, pumping into even harder. “fuck, fuck, I love you, too baby. So much.”

Jungkook lets you go to fall back onto your mattress, a twitching mess as your high was riding down. He pounds into you a few more times, the sound of skin slapping and pants echoing off the walls until he cums inside of you, completely painting your walls with his seed.

Jungkook doesn’t remove himself until he’s soft, having no more cum left to give you. He kisses your back softly, wrapping his arms around your limp body. “I’m so happy you’re coming back to me, baby. Now we can be a family. You, me and Ava.”

“What’s the worst that can happen after all these years?”

[aft3rhrs]

— pastel pink ღ

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!father au

warnings: dead dove, yandere, pseudo incest, cheating, age gap (the reader is always 18+!), corruption, porn, cnc themes, mentions of masturbation, choking, dub con, fingering, daddy kink, rough sex, humiliation, praise, dirty talk, allusions to sadism & masochism, multiple orgasms, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, aftercare

*use of the words “rape”, “abuse”.

masterlist

Namjoon used to think that you didn't quite understand the consequences of playing with fire. It was not surprising, after all, considering your young age. You were but an inexperienced cub compared to the wolf that raised you, not yet having grasped the unbridled nature of all things wild.

Sooner or later, though, inching too close to the flames was bound to get you burned. Somewhere in the darkest depths of his heart, Namjoon craved to inflict the pain of the heat on you, mark his territory with a swirl of scars.

Wasn't every father's daughter his most precious gift? Pretty like a doll, with a heart that had flowers and thorns tangling through it. A bricked, bleeding house that welcomed no intruders. He wanted nothing more than to keep it safe.

It was those protective instincts that had always kept him in check, tamed, in constant agony over something he could never have.

Until tonight.

Until it turned out your doe eyes and the pastel pink of your bedroom were misleading lies; and you yearned for the burn of the fire, simply too afraid to dive into its scorching depths.

And what was his duty if not to help you experience life, fulfill all your soul's desires? With immense love and a guiding, fatherly hand, now stuck in between your soft thighs.

"Is this what you like?"

The hoarse whisper made you clench. You whimpered in response, your eyes growing warm.

"No."

You knew it was pointless to lie; he could feel you soaking his fingers, pulsing around their thick girth. But it was too much handle, and the filthy video playing on the screen made you want to shrink.

"Yeah," Namjoon coaxed, breathing into your ear. "You like watching old men fuck their daughters? Like watching them abuse their good little girls?"

Relentless, he pumped the digits in and out of your poor cunt, and the tears overflowed, a dangerous combination of the shame and the orgasm rippling through you. From deep inside your tummy, all the way through your spine, prompting your thighs to tremble on top of his.

What a stupid mistake; to lie down and let your eyes flutter closed right after coming. You weren't even sure when you drifted off, your laptop barely shut, still resting by your side. Namjoon came into your bedroom to check on you, tuck you in and turn off the light, as he'd done a hundred of times before.

The website on the screen caught his eye.

Dreams were safe; reality was different. No one was ever supposed to see this side of you. Especially not the man whose name was stamped all over the walls of the private, forbidden rooms that took up the space in your head. Not the man you looked up to, respectable and smart, all warmth and dimpled smiles, with such deep, kind eyes behind his pristine glasses.

Not Namjoon.

"Fuck," he cursed softly, one arm curled around your waist, grounding you. "That's it..."

Hips stilling, you attempted to catch your breath. Dizziness washed over you. You've never felt this good before; and perhaps a part of the reason why was that you were doing something very bad. The thought of your mother coming home still lingered at the back of your mind — no longer an imminent threat, the bullet dissolving in the haze of the bliss, though its existing chill persisted.

This would be quite a sight for the poor woman to witness; her husband's fingers buried deep in her only daughter's cunt, legs spread wide open on his lap. The lewd porn playing on your laptop only served as the final nail in the coffin.

You winced as Namjoon slipped out of you gently, disoriented. Your legs felt like jelly, but his hold on you was secure, your only safety net.

He stood up, lifting you with him. He didn't try to lead you back to your bed, instead placing a large palm on the small of your back and pushing forward.

You let your cheek rest on the cold surface of the desk, trying to ignore the dirty sounds of sex coming from the screen. Maybe it was the emotions muddling your brain, but you couldn't move, helpless as an animal with their leg caught in a trap.

In spite of the carelessness on your part, you've never imagined Namjoon reacting this way. You'd thought he would have been disgusted, concerned — embarrassed at the very least — and the topic would never be brought up.

Yet here he was, unzipping his pants, about to fuck you on the same desk you occupied to complete your homework every night. In the same room that used to be adorned in plushies and fairy lights, saturated with all of your innocence.

It was different than any taboo feeling or thought you might have entertained in secret; the forbidden fruit no longer a fantasy, but a sin weighing down on the palm of your hand, ripe for the tasting. Its only price was being cast out.

Namjoon caressed your ass, the foreign sensation causing more slick to dribble down the apex of your thighs.

"Such a good slut," he breathed.

The word whipped through you, leaving your skin stinging and lungs emptied of air. He hasn't addressed you with anything but respect before; in fact, you didn't think you've ever heard him use such vulgar language.

You clenched, as though the degradation chipped away at your brain, dumbed it down to a blissful void.

"No," you whined out in protest; of what, you weren't sure anymore.

You felt his hand lock around your wrists.

"Yeah, you are," he cooed. "You're my little toy, and toys get played with. I may be too old for that..." he slid your underwear down your thighs, "but you're not, are you, baby?"

A shiver ran through you, arousal mingling with a tinge of fear the moment he leaned over you, his chest resting firm against your back.

"Don't you want daddy to play with you?" He whispered, flooding your nape with goosebumps. "Seems to me that you do."

This wasn't the Namjoon you've grown to know; this was something different, sinful and ravenous. The rattle of the cage was nothing compared to it being set loose, claiming ownership over you, corrupting and consuming.

But you were wetter than ever, slick flowing like honey and coating the heated, swollen tip of his cock as soon as it pressed against you.

Namjoon was faring no better; his collar open and tie loosened, shirt wrinkled with the memory of your fingers grasping at it. All of his self restraint was gone, the cracked lock broken and the dented cage empty.

You did that.

He had a wife, a job, a good reputation. He worked hard to achieve success, however, the path laid out before him has always looked rather bleak without you in the picture.

And any doubts that troubled him in the past went up in the flames the moment he peeked at your laptop. Of course it was him you longed for, his cock you needed in your little pussy. You were daddy's perfect little girl, all too aware of your purpose. To be ruined and loved and owned by him.

His hand encased your neck, a grip that instantly made your head tingle. He pulled you up, letting you sink into his chest. His breath tickled your ear, and the girthy cockhead pushed against your slit once more, leaking.

"Why are you shaking, baby?" he inquired, sliding his free hand up your stomach. Palm wide open, only to close around your breast and squeeze. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

No. Yes? No. It was so wrong. You shook your head, like that would change anything; turn back time, conceal the truth, get you out of trouble.

Namjoon chuckled.

"It is," he husked, plush lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He moved his hips, rubbing himself against your nub teasingly. "You wanted daddy's cock, just like all these dirty girls on screen."

He eased his hold on your throat, but his hand remained around it; a reminder that he was in control.

Your head was swimming as more oxygen rushed in, but it made almost no difference. His words, his touch, they had a hold on you too, squeezing your lungs, making your clit throb beneath his touch.

"Wanted to be mine..." his tone mellowed out to silk, seductive and light. "Wanted to be my pretty, little angel, and take it behind mummy's back, hm?"

Eyes teary and barely open, you gasped.

"Even better if I just make you take it, right? You won't have to feel so guilty, and you can still slobber and cream all over it."

Your knees were close to giving out, wetness gushing obscenely onto his thick length. As if he could sense it, Namjoon tightened his arm around you, lifting a hand to wipe away the tears that fell.

"Oh sweetheart," he shushed, "see? Daddy knows what you need. Your eyes are wet, but your pussy is wetter. Bet it's tight, too. Tighter than your mother's."

He palmed his cock, at last positioning it back at your small entrance.

"Not that I ever wanted hers anyway."

It seemed your soul left your body the moment he sank in, and he swallowed all of it with his kiss. Any remnants of your thoughts, integrity or coherence; all swiped away with the lick of his tongue and the delicious stretch that left your cunt clenching and insides churning.

The noise he let out sent a thrill through you. He broke the kiss, broke you, his gleaming eyes hooded and adoring, staring deep into yours. Time seemed to fizzle out of existence.

Then he thrusted.

"Fucking whore."

A croaky whisper, followed by a moan you barely recognized as your own.

"I tried to stay away, but my baby just had to be a fucking whore. Couldn't help wanting daddy to rape her."

You shuddered, breath caught in your throat and hand clutching his bicep.

There was no going back, and at this point, it didn't matter. At this point, exposed and full of him, you ached for more; and like a good dad, Namjoon was there to cater to your needs.

He pulled out, only to slide back inside the velvety heat, pleasure bursting and simmering through. No more teasing; just shivers, and long, deep strokes that made his balls slap against your skin.

His breath fanned your neck, unsteady, edged with soft groans. He barely fit inside you, but your pussy took him so well, as though it was always meant to be his.

The way he fucked you drowned out whatever porn was still playing on your laptop, long forgotten, nothing compared to the depravity happening right in front of it. He pounded into you harder, keeping a steady pace. The desk began to thud, repeatedly hitting the wall behind it.

"Like that?" He mumbled into your cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing your stiff nipple. "Right there?"

He required no verbal answer. Not when you were so soft and pliant in his arms, the rush taking over. Still, he enjoyed the way you squirmed at the questions, eyes closed and luscious lips wide open, making the most heavenly little sounds.

He wasn't going to last; there was no time to waste, besides, the simple fact that your warm, wet hole was taking his cock — raw — was enough to push him close to the edge.

Desperate, he took a hold of your jaw and turned your face towards him. His lips were an inch away from yours, the intimacy of it tender and aching, like a bruise.

"Say, 'thank you, daddy,'" he murmured. '"Thank you for fucking my tight, little cunt.'"

You responded with a mewl, your muscles tensing along with the knot in your tummy.

"Gonna—"

Namjoon groaned. Too out of breath to finish the sentence, too fucked out, you let yourself go limp as he pummeled into you.

"Come?" He suggested, wanting to laugh at how quickly you nodded, but your walls were getting so tight only a moan came out. "Fuck. Good girl, making daddy so proud." His forehead touched yours, as if he could get any closer. "You deserve a reward."

The moment you clamped down on him, he muffled the cry that broke through with his lips, crashing them into yours. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth, reaching the peak of his limit as your cunt quivered, effortlessly massaging his cock with the convulsions. He couldn't resist its pull sucking him in, trapping him in place to do what it was made for.

He groaned loudly, letting his seed spill as deep as it would go, letting you see stars right there on the ceiling; like the glowing stickers he used to put up there for you, just an old father and daughter tradition. Your eyes rolled back, and it had him gritting his teeth, grinding into you until you couldn't stand, and his own legs barely kept him up anymore.

He panted softly, gulping as you melted into him, both of his arms hugging your waist. Slowly, the heat was receding, and in its stead serenity crept in.

It was quiet when he washed you up, his hands gentle, wiping the mess in between your thighs and the sweat off your brow. Dressed in a clean shirt and underwear, you climbed under your blanket. Beyond sleepy and sated, your heart still felt heavy.

The edge of the mattress dipped as Namjoon sat down beside you, extending his arm to cup your cheek. Only then did he meet your eyes.

"I love you."

He's said it to you before, but it felt different now. It was different. And it made him hesitate, reduced his voice to a whisper.

"You're the best thing... that's ever happened to me. That's never gonna change. You know that, right?"

You nodded, wondering how in such a messed up situation a few words could feel so comforting. Perhaps it was because they were coming from him. Would that always be enough? Will it feel the same when you wake up in the morning?

Namjoon bent down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple, coaxing your eyes to shut.

"Don't worry about anything, okay? Just trust me, baby. And get some rest."

You relaxed, acknowledging the request with a small sigh. He watched you fall asleep, stroking your hair, trying not to dwell on how much he wished he could stay. At least he'd be able to get into bed before his wife came home.

In the darkness of his bedroom, he settled into the cool sheets, his glasses set aside and clothes neatly folded. He heard the front door unlock, the keys jiggling, and closed his eyes.

Time to sleep.

Time for a change of plans was awaiting him tomorrow.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @art-3-miss @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @mother2monsters @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @jksteponme @httpjeonlicious @iceprincessviviane

[angellesword]

Baggage l JJK (01)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

→ Next Chapter (02)

***

You know it's New Year's Eve when people flock to Incheon's Chinatown. Some were rushing to buy gifts for their families and friends, while others ate in a fancy restaurant or watched fireworks and the famous lion dance.

As for Jungkook, he knew it was New Year's Eve when he could earn double. 

"I said I don't want to take a picture!" The loud wail of a little girl could be heard through the vast street of Chinatown. Many shoppers looked at the kid and her father with disdain. The child was crying hard, yet her father simply laughed it off, urging the child to take a picture with Jungkook or, rather, with Ronald McDonald.

Jungkook was wearing the infamous mascot costume of that red-haired clown of McDonald's.

"Come on, Wonyoung-ah. Just one picture, please?" Seokjin, the child's father, batted his eyelashes, acting cute. It worked on his partner Namjoon. Unfortunately, it didn't have much effect on Wonyoung.

"No! He's so ugly and scary!" Wonyoung stole a glance at Jungkook. The mascot looked so hideous that Wonyoung couldn't help but throw her ice cream at Jungkook.

"Wonyoung." Namjoon, who had been quiet all this time, grimaced when he saw Jungkook stilled—as if the ice cream that hit his chest also froze his heart.

Namjoon usually tolerated the young girl's brattiness, but seeing that Wonyoung crossed the line and even hurt someone older than her, Namjoon couldn't help but scold his daughter.

"Apologize to him." Namjoon tilted Wonyoung's shoulder, compelling her to face Jungkook, who was still rooted to the ground.

Jungkook had never liked kids. He thought they were annoying and full of shit. What happened today totally embarrassed him. Not to mention, many people witnessed the jarring scene.

"I don't want to! Why don't you listen to me! He's a bad clown! He scares people!" Wonyoung refused to look at the mascot. Honestly, Jungkook couldn't refute the kid's reason. He, too, was aware of how ridiculous he looked. Most of his co-workers went on vacation leave. No one was around to help him apply his Ronald McDonald makeup. He had to do it himself.

Jungkook had no talent when it came to makeup. He had accidentally put on too much white face paint—even his manager laughed at him. But despite feeling helpless, he still swallowed his pride and went out to entertain customers. It's just for one night. Someone who needed money to survive couldn't be picky with the little opportunity available.

Not everyone was lucky enough to throw away food like it was nothing. Wonyoung was a young heiress; throwing ice cream at Jungkook was considered throwing tantrums and not wasting food. They had money. They could buy people's silence.

That's precisely what happened. Namjoon was hellbent on making his daughter apologize, and after a long time of coaxing, Wonyoung finally (although reluctantly) managed to say she was sorry.

Namjoon apologized on behalf of his child, too. Conversely, Seokjin gave Jungkook some hush money after promising to 'discipline' Wonyoung at home.

Jungkook could only nod, once again forced to swallow his pride and accept the money offered to him. Poor people like him didn't only have fewer opportunities; they had no self-preservation either. He endured long hours of smiling as kids cried seeing his face. The brave ones were a little easy to deal with. They only clung to his legs, asking their guardians to take more pictures with him.

It was already late at night when the last customer bid him goodbye. Jungkook was exhausted; the cold winter wind made his body shiver. He was itching to go home.

"What happened to your costume?" The manager who laughed at Jungkook earlier couldn't laugh anymore, not when he knew it would cost the restaurant money to clean off the stain.

The chocolate ice cream thrown by Wonyoung heavily stained the costume. Jungkook explained what happened. Unfortunately, the manager only shook his head.

"Nope, that can't be. It's your fault you didn't dodge. I'm gonna have to deduct the laundry fee from your salary."

Jungkook's hands balled into fists when he heard about the salary deduction. There was ringing in his ears, and as if that wasn't cruel enough, the manager added, "I'm not going to double your payment this day. Half of it goes to dry cleaning."

The strong urge to grab the manager's collar and slam him on the wall made Jungkook's hands twitch. Who even dry-cleans a fucking mascot costume? A whirlpool of profanities at the bottom of his heart threatened to swallow him whole. Jungkook wished he could just disappear from this world.

Logic sided with him in the end, though. Jungkook needed a job. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to because if he did, where would that leave those people to whom he owed money? He couldn't escape his responsibilities. Yes, it would be satisfying to smack the hell out of his manager, but after all that gratifying feeling came the consequences: he would lose his only source of income, face a civil case, and be forced to look for a new job.

The last one was the hardest thing to do. No one would want to hire someone like Jungkook. He was a failure, and almost all business industries knew about it.

For the third time tonight, Jungkook swallowed his pride. He held the crook of his manager's elbow and beamed, "Manager Bang, have mercy on your poor employee, would you? You promised to pay me double today."

Jungkook struggled to steady his voice. He swore he never cried, not even when losing millions of assets. But things were different now. Back then, he lost everything because of his own decisions. But today's case was different. He didn't ask any of this. He didn't ask that stupid brat to throw ice cream on him. None of these was his choice...because sadly, he only had one choice:

It was to beg. 

"Please? I-I need money. I need to..." Jungkook choked on his bitter spit. He shook his head. Never mind his needs, never mind his reason. It wasn't like others cared. He could only compromise, "What if I wash the costume instead? You don't have to pay at all."

Jungkook was so passionate about his proposal. He kept spouting nonsense. It was a pity, really. Even his manager couldn't bear looking at his face. It was such a cringe-worthy juxtaposition to see a happy clown almost crying.

"Okay, fine!" The manager cut Jungkook off. He had never seen someone desperately beg for money. It made him uncomfortable. "Do whatever you want. Just get out of my sight."

The manager shuddered again, but Jungkook smiled, almost kowtowing as he received his compensation.

"Thank you, Manager Bang!" Jungkook smiled at his manager before finally leaving the food chain. He didn't change his outfit, realizing that things were better off like this. It was winter, and he had no money to buy coats and boots. He had to make do with this clown costume.

With little compensation in hand, Jungkook walked around Chinatown, spending his transportation fee on food instead.

It was New Year's Eve, after all. He felt like he at least deserved to eat something delicious. Jungkook originally wanted to buy crabs but could only afford five sticks of chicken skewers and a bottle of the cheapest soju. 

Jungkook had low alcohol tolerance. It had been many years since he last drank, and the consequences of that night had been awful—so awful he decided to never drink again.

Tonight was the only night he'd break his promise. It was New Year's Eve. He had no one by his side; he could only rely on alcohol to give him warmth.

As expected, Jungkook's vision doubled after just a few sips of soju. He couldn't stop drinking, though. The alcohol burned his throat and stomach, but it was nothing compared to his bitterness as he looked at the building before him.

The Bighit building. 

Out of hundreds of restaurants and food stalls in Incheon, Jungkook had no idea why he chose to dine in a place where he would have a clear view of Bighit. He did so well trying to avoid going to this part of the city for years, so what changed tonight? Was the embarrassment he experienced earlier not enough?

Did he need to be reminded of the pain and humiliation he went through at the Bighit back then?

Or was it because he missed someone?   

Jungkook's heart throbbed just thinking about that someone. It had been long since they last saw each other. Things had changed already. Take Bighit as an example. It was called HYBE now.

Some people left, including him. But some things never changed. The building was still as magnificent as ever.

Jungkook felt nostalgic. He couldn't stop himself from walking toward HYBE. Years ago, he could go in and out of this building as he pleased.

Everyone would bow down and smile at him. What a pity that he could only stare at the façade of this company now.

Jungkook wasn't the same man years ago, but the alcohol clouded his mind. He felt as if nothing had changed. He thought he could stand outside the building, smiling like an idiot as he waved at an angry girl leaning against her car, a frown decorating her lips while rolling her eyes.

Jungkook smiled despite himself. How shameless of him to think about that girl? To think that he could drink alcohol and pretend like he could turn back time?

Oh, how he wished he could turn back time. He would do anything to see that girl roll her eyes again, to hear her scream one more time.

Jungkook laughed bitterly.

He missed the girl.

The snowflakes fell, followed by tears falling from his eyes. The tears he thought had frozen over time.

And then he heard the sound of the fireworks before seeing it illuminate the dark sky.

It's New Year.

He heard the sound of her voice before seeing her face-to-face.

"Jungkook."

The fireworks enveloped his ears, but it was nothing compared to his loud heartbeat.

Jungkook looked at the person who had just uttered his name.

Did time really freeze? Was this some kind of New Year miracle?

Or was the alcohol still messing with his brain, making him believe that he was still the Jungkook from the past? The Jungkook could see the girl, also known as you, any time he wanted.

Jungkook blinked, chuckling.

It was absurd.

How drunk was he to see your car again parked in front of Bighit?

Jungkook was drunk, but the image in front of him wasn't a fragment of his imagination.

You were really here to pick Jungkook up.

Just like before.

***

NEW JJK ONESHOT HERE

→ Next Chapter (02)

This fic is originally a soukoku fic which I'm posting/revamping as a JJK one (I don't know, man. I feel like I have to change the characters to eradicate my writer's block. This fic has been on hiatus for many years. This will probably have 8 chapters in total. (I've written 4/8 already, so stay tuned!) This is also for those few readers who never fail to message me, asking if I will be writing more JJK fics. Here you go, I guess? Hehehe

I appreciate COMMENTS the most <33 I love you, guys. Thanks for reading.

[7ndipity]

BTS As Girl Dads

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how the members would each handle being girl dads

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! This got me soo in my feels, they’d all be such great dads(I may have gone a lil self indulgent but who cares lol). Obviously, some/most of these could also apply to any kid, regardless of gender, but for the sake of the Hc, we’re focusing on daughters

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

He’s honestly such a girl dad, argue with the wall

I totally see him wholly embracing the title and all the things that are typically considered ‘girly’, like pink and sparkles and all that

He would indulge every single one of her interests. She likes animals? They’re going to the zoo every weekend. She likes music? He’s signing her up for lessons for whatever instrument she’s into

I have this mental picture of them sitting on her bed together while he’s reading her bedtime stories, using all these silly voices and wearing one of her princess hats or something bc she insisted he needed for the character and just-😭

Yoongi:

Yoongi would be the softest girl dad ever, like she had him wrapped around her finger from day one. He took one look at her tiny little scrunched up face, that reminded him waay too much of his own expression when he’s annoyed, and he was a goner

I see him just sitting soo patiently while she gives him makeovers, wearing like three different pairs of clip-on earrings at the same time

He would really focus on teaching her to stand up for herself and makes sure she never takes any shit from anyone

He might come off a little stern sometimes, but it’s just because he worries and wants the best for her

Hobi:

Okay, Hobi as a girl dad might be one of my favorite headcanons, bc he’d be soo fucking sweet with them!

The tea party King. Like he shows up dressed in the most ridiculous outfits to make her giggle, and ready to talk imaginary gossip with her and any plushies that are joining them🤭

He would love shopping with/for her, constantly trying to find the coolest outfits or pieces for her, and they would definitely wear matching outfits when she was little(she would be the best dressed toddler ever, lol)

I also see him being quite protective of her at times, being super nervous/worried about her doing things like riding a bike for the first time or on her first days of school

Namjoon:

Omg Namjoon as a girl dad would be soo fucking protective. Like if someone does anything to hurt or upset her, they’re fucked

I see him loving daddy-daughter days out together, taking her to the park or museums or bookstores, really just wanting to indulge her curiosity and interests

Like Yoongi, he would really work to make sure she knows how to stand up for herself, as well as others

For all of his sternness tho, he would have the biggest soft spot for her, he’s 100% the type to let her have dessert before dinner or something bc she gave him puppy eyes

Jimin:

Omg he’s soo girl dad coded, like it’s not even funny(he literally confirmed that on that ep of “are you sure?” like 🥺)

He would treat her like a little princess, doting on her at every possible opportunity, buying her toys/clothes/treats, taking her on special outings, etc. If she wants something, he will do whatever he can do give it to her

He would not be able to stand seeing her in any sort of pain. Like even her just having a scraped knee would make him slightly misty-eyed, even tho she’s not upset/crying about it

I see them having lots of long talks about whatever’s on her mind. He would really strive to be her safe place to ask questions about anything, from school and friends to life and the future

Taehyung:

I see him being an amazing girl dad! He has this amazing, comforting dynamic with the girls that he’s worked with/is friends with, so I can only imagine how supportive he would be with his own daughter

He would be so indulgent in whatever she wanted. Ice cream before bed? Heck yeah, let him grab a spoon too. She wants a new plushie/toy even tho she just got one like yesterday? Well, the new one needs a friend, soo-

But he would still have his more stern/protective moments with her, just moreso in little ways like making sure she’s always wearing her helmet and elbow/knee pads, brushes her teeth, does her homework, etc

He would play along with all/any of their imaginary games, fully committing to the role(and adding waay too many silly death/fainting scenes bc they make her laugh)

Jungkook:

Junkook would absolutely adore a daughter. Like she would be his little princess and anyone/anything that upsets her will have to answer to him.

On the flip side of that protectiveness tho, he is so unbelievably gentle with her. As an infant, he handled her like she was made of glass, and as she grows up, he would always speak to her in a softer tone than he uses for anyone else 

(Also dodon’t think about him singing her to sleep every night as an infant. Getting up with her in the middle of the night and walking her around the house, singing to her softly till she drifts back off to sleep in his arms)

He would love teaching her things and playing games with her(I totally picture him teaching her boxing in tiny and falling over all dramatic when she lands a hit, lol)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[dumpywrites]

Tears and Poetries - Kim Namjoon / RM

Prompt: “You look familiar, like that one guy from BTS.”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, comfort, idol Namjoon, non fan reader 

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

a/n: Come back to me got me feeling all inspired soooo yeah :)

It was late. Frankly you did not bother to check the time but you knew it was at least way past twelve. You just needed some air. Late night polluted air might not be the right option, but it was the best you could have at the moment. Getting out was the only coping response your mind could think off. Getting out from where exactly you could not be sure. 

Work life had been a real shit-show. You were on your fifth revision for your company project and your manager still would not accept your draft. While life? Life had been pretty exhausting. Recently your mother had been pestering you about wanting you to achieve more, comparing you to her friends’ sons and daughters, while also underestimating your own accomplishment. 

And not even two weeks ago, a guy who you were seeing just admitted that he apparently had a girlfriend. He really just dropped that info to you like a bomb, as if you did not spend time with each other the past six months. True, you never really put a label on whatever you both had, but in your head you were single and so was he. Until he told you that he got a girlfriend and had dated her for a month already. 

The wound still felt fresh especially with all the external problems added to the equation. Bearing the feeling of unwanted, unimportant, and never enough at once, was hard. Even labeling it as only hard sounded like an understatement. 

So you ran. Theoretically speaking you did not run away, you just took off from your apartment randomly to wherever your feet and your worn off sneakers took you. And they took you to a random spot near a river. 

You sat down on the dirty grassy ground, not minding how your shorts could get dirty from it.  Just sitting down and looking at the night sky, as if the cold breeze would calm you and do anything besides giving you a possibility of catching cold. 

Five, fifteen, maybe it was around half an hour you had been sitting there with empty thoughts, just letting the cold air hit your skin, when you suddenly heard a sound of a bicycle stopping and footsteps approaching. 

“Hello? Are you alright there?”

The deep voice started you and made you look back in an instant. There was a tall and quite big built guy standing with his bicycle. He had a buzzcut from the very faint image you could see due to the low light. 

Although skeptic, you decided to answer. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

You realized how shaky and stuffy your voice sounded. It probably was not a very convincing “don’t worry”. And when you did not voice another reply, the person parked their vehicle and slowly walked towards your direction. 

“Hey! Stranger danger!” You said, backing off from where you were seating. 

The guy stopped in his tracks but did not walked away. “Do you mind if I join your pondering session? Who knows two great minds might think alike.” 

You stayed still in your position, eyes searching for his in the very confusing lack of light. You could barely make out of what he looked like. 

“I’m not a creep, I swear!” He threw his hands in the air. “There’s a police station nearby if you wanna shout as loud as you can, they could hear you from here.” 

He took your silence as a green light and stepped closer until he reached a spot on your left. He cleared his throat and sat down next to you. 

There you could eventually fully saw his face. The first thing you noticed was the nicely shaped nose, and his plump lips, then his dimples which showed when he politely smiled at you. 

The first ten minutes was spent in complete silence. You did not expect the man to whip out a notepad and pencil and just started writing. A story? Poem? Or song? You tried your best not to sneak a look. He was even humming at some point when he wrote, and it was strangely enough, soothing. 

“What are you writing?” You finally asked, the suspense was killing you. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” He replied with excitement. “I’m writing a poem. Though I’m starting to think it’d sound better as a song.”

“You’re a singer or something?”

The man looked at you in disbelief for a good second before chuckling. “Sorta.”

“Am I suppose to know you?” You eyed him back with the same questioning look. 

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t know for today.”

You looked at the guy suspiciously, which earned a laugh from him. “The more I think about it, I think I’ve seen your face somewhere…”

“Oh yeah?” He said, a light tone of nervousness was visible in his voice. 

“You look familiar, like that one guy from BTS.”

He almost choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Yeah, that one dude from BTS.” You repeated. “Although I don’t think any one from them has a buzzcut… Idols always seem to have either colorful hair or beautiful long locks.” 

“Really…” The man voiced out, sounding unsure. 

“Are you perhaps an indie artist? K-hiphop? Don’t tell me you are a DPR member that I somehow don’t know about or something…”

“Okay, enough about that it’s not important.” He dismissed. “You wanna take a look of what I’ve written?”

“Uh, sure…”

You leaned a bit closer to him and peeked over his notes. He took his notepad nearing it to your side so you could read better. Despite the low source of illumination, you could read the delicately written words. It was deep and meaningful. Whatever he wrote on that paper seemed a little too real to just be a song, it almost felt like it came from true experience. 

“You sound like you went through hell to get to where you are right now.” 

You commented, you were not aware of how reading through his words affected you until you could practically hear your heartbeat. You clutched at your chest, trying to calm it down. 

“I’m not only talking about the sufferings.” He pointed out. “I also mentioned about the journeys in between.”

His expression brightened as he explained further. You found it really attractive for some reason. 

“The feeling of loss, left out, were there alongside the feeling of excitement, growth, and wanting to change for the better.” He grinned. “And I think life needs that small bits of flavor to complete us as human beings… Wouldn’t have loved myself so much without all my struggles and flaws.”

You gazed at the guy in front of you in awe. “Guess you’re right.” You finally broke into a smile. “That was beautiful though, almost got me tearing up.”

“Thank you.” He grinned, showing his dimples. “What about you though? What’s on your mind?”

“It’s kinda lame…” You nervously laughed. 

“I’m listening.” He scooted closer, making your knees touched. 

“There are a whole list of messed up things happening in my life right now, but I guess I could name one or two…” 

You took a deep breath and the guy in front of you patiently waited for you to speak. 

“Basically my mom’s been yelling at me saying stuff about how unsuccessful I am for my nine to five job, while getting bullied by my manager at work, and not to mention, how I just got dumped by a guy who I was seeing for six months.”

“That’s fucked up…” He looked at you with wide eyes. 

“You tell me.” You replied sassily. “I mean I guess for the most part it wasn’t really about the problem itself. I’m aware of how perfectionist my manager could be and multiple revision is expected. My mom never really feels content with anything, so that’s also expected. And that fucking guy leaving me? It was probably for the better…”

“Hey.” He grabbed your shoulder suddenly, catching you in a surprise. “Don’t downplay your feelings like that. You’re allowed to feel sad when other people treat you like utter shit. It’s valid.” 

There was something about his words that triggered an emotion within you. Unknowingly, a tear escaped your eyes, followed by more next. 

You leaned backwards to free from his grip, only for him to lose it but proceeded to take off his knitted sweater, revealing a black oversized t-shirt underneath. He took it off with one hand before shoving it through your head so you could wear it. 

“It’s chilly. You might catch a cold.” 

Hesitantly, you rolled the sweater through your body. You felt the neckline stained with tears and wondered if it was his polite way of helping you wipe your tears. You thanked him and he told you to continue. 

“I don’t know what else to say, I don’t want to trauma dump on you.” 

“How are you feeling though?” He asked, eyes gently looking at you. 

“I just… I felt unwanted? Unimportant and undesirable? It happened all at once and it got me connecting strings. The root cause of my problem felt like it came from me as a person and I felt sick…”

He gazed at you and quietly nod, allowing you to continue. 

“I came here because it was loud and deafening in here,” You tapped your head with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “And I’m glad I did. Not only did I manage to tone it down a couple notches, I also get an exclusive song preview from a top star!” 

Both of you laughed in unison. You were the first to break the eye contact due to the sudden invasion of butterflies in your stomach. It might be dark and late at night, but your eyes could not lie about the beauty of the stranger in front of you. 

The silence was soon broken by a buzzing notification from his phone. It was on silent mode, but the multiple vibrations got him shuffling his hand on his pocket, fishing his phone out from his cargo pants. 

“Damn, I gotta head back. Someone needs me in the studio…” 

“At this hour?!” You argued immediately.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He ran his hand through his short hair in a frustrated way. 

“What’s your name?” 

You both stopped and looked at each other, dumbfounded. Both of you asked the same question at the same time. Laughter filled the air once again. 

“You first.” The guy gestured. 

You got up and he followed right after. Now looking at how tall he was compared to you, spelling out your name felt a little bit harder. Your heart was beating in an abnormal rate. You finally managed to tell him your name and you patted yourself internally for not voicing out like a squealing hormonal teenager. 

“I’m Namjoon.” He said with a huge contagious smile. 

“Now where did I hear that name—“

“Can I have your number?” He interrupted. Glancing at his phone screen, a small groan escaped his lips. “It’s almost three, you have to go home.”

“Oh.” Your lips formed a small O shape. “Sure. Here, give me your phone…”

You both then exchanged phone numbers. 

“I want to take you back to your home so badly but I really can’t…” Namjoon sighed. “Besides, my bicycle can only do so much…” He chuckled. 

“It’s okay, I live nearby.” You smiled. “You take care, though.”

“Yeah, you too. I’ll text you?”

“Yeah.” You nodded happily. “Thank you, Namjoon.” 

“Don’t mention it, I’m really glad we met today.” He nodded at you before retreating to where he parked his bicycle. 

“Wait!” 

You followed, running to his direction. You stopped when your arms barely linked behind him, hugging him tightly. It was bold of you but it just felt right at the moment. 

“Thank you so much, I mean it.” You said with voice muffled a little by his clothes against your mouth. 

And you did. You meant it, it felt really nice having someone who actually listened to your problem and seemed like he cared about it too. 

He hugged back. “You’re not unwanted, okay? You are loved, please know that.”

You nodded and broke off the hug. A big smile plastered on your lips and he mimicked it. “Okay, you may go now.”

You both bid your goodbyes and that was how you found yourself smiling and giggling at three in the morning, by yourself, on your way back to your place, all while hugging the sweater that you forgot to give back. That encounter was weird, but in a very good way. It almost felt like the universe sent you an angel knowing how down you were feeling. In a peculiar way, it almost felt like he saved you. You went to sleep easily that night. 

The next morning you were awaken by a text notification popping up from Namjoon. You smiled like an idiot to yourself before opening it. 

“Good morning! I hope you slept well. Did you arrive safe yesterday? Sorry something came up, I wished I could stay longer.”

You quickly replied to him. “I slept good. Probably thanks to you, hehe. No problem though! Maybe we could hangout again someday? I need to return your sweater after all :)”

After typing the text and sending it, suddenly a curious thought filled your head. His name did ring an unknown bell. Namjoon did mention that he was a singer, an idol maybe? You could not be sure. You tapped your Google app on your phone and started typing his name followed by the word “singer” behind it. 

Maybe this was your cue to be more aware of the Kpop industry. You had your fair share of listening to K-hiphop, and were even an avid listener of groups like Epik High and Balming Tiger. 

So how come you failed to notice that last night you in fact just hugged Kim Namjoon, aka RM from the internationally well known boy group, BTS???

Thank you for reading! 🌙

a/n: this was a rather short one but i hope y'all like it nonetheless <3

Prompt request: HERE

[nucleo-bang-tan]

I seriously wanna know why TUD isn't getting a lot of attention like my other works. I'm genuinely curious.

Is it the genre? Or is the poster too weird?

;-;

I've gave that story a lot of my hardwork and I really wish to know what I'm doing wrong.

Thanking youuuuu

[btsfests]

Daddy's Home Fest

There's no better time than when daddy is home.

DILF BTS is coming to a Tumblr near you Spring 2024!

♡ Title: Before, Now and After

♡ Pairing: Alpha Gang Boss!Yoongi x Omega Maid!Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: gang au, dead dove, parent au, a/b/o | angst, fluff, smut

♡ Summary: As the leader of the infamous Bangtan, Yoongi is untouchable and lives life as he pleases. He thinks he has it all until the tall and broad shoulder omegan maid, Kim Seokjin walks into his office and makes Yoongi second guess what he wants in life.

by @sweetestofchaos

Daddy Yoongi and Daddy Seokjin came home June 2. Read Here

♡ Title: Daddy, Daughter, and Dewey Decimals

♡ Pairing: Single Dad!Namjoon x (f)reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Parent AU, Fluff, Smut, Mutual Pining

♡ Summary: I adored the daddy and daughter duo that came to visit me every week at the library. Sunhee was cute and vivacious and her dad was every single woman's dream. A simple request, one late night, and a slip of the tongue revealing it wasn't just one-sided attraction.

by @remedyx

♡ Title: Dirty Laundry

♡ Pairing: Seokjin x f. reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Slice of life, established married couple, PWP

♡ Summary: When you come across your daughter and Seokjin having a princess-themed tea party, you can't help but fall in love with your husband a little more. It helps that you find him absolutely ravishing in the little pink dress he wears too.

by @sailoryooons

♡ Title: Love Blooms

♡ Pairing: Jin x Hoseok

♡ Rating: MA

♡ Genre: Divorced, single father AU | angst, fluff, smut

♡ Summary: Summary: Divorced and lost, Jin grapples with self-discovery and single fatherhood. Then, sunshine arrives in the form of Hoseok, helping him explore his desires and build a found family. Their love faces challenges - ex-wife drama, societal disapproval - but together they prove love and acceptance can bloom even in unexpected gardens

by @downbad4yoongi

Daddy Hoseok and Daddy Seokjin came home April 26. Read here!

♡ Title: Lose You to Love Me

♡ Pairing: Yoongi x f! Reader

♡ Rating: 🔞

♡ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

♡ Summary: Yoongi thought he had everything. The woman of his dreams whom he gave everything for. The sweetest Princess who became his whole world the minute she was born and a career he can say he's happy in but what happens when it all comes crumbling down when one small secret blows his marriage open?

by @jmvore

♡ Title: Off Limits

♡ Pairing: Female Reader x Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: smut, porn with very little plot

♡ Summary: You are visiting your family over spring break and discover that the family you used to babysit for are separated. Does this mean Mister Kim is no longer off limits?

by @theharrowing

♡ Title: podcast

♡ Pairing: single father!Namjoon x f! reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: single father AU | fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

♡ Summary: You and Namjoon keep bumping into each other at multiple instances, as if destined to. In a world where past loves and current responsibilities intertwine, Namjoon navigates the complexities of single fatherhood, cherishing the moments with his daughter, Nari, while reflecting on lost love through his popular podcast, "A Loveless Lover." A chance encounter at a daycare center brings him face to face with you, sparking a connection rooted in compassion and shared moments of vulnerability. As their worlds collide, the possibility of new beginnings looms, challenging Namjoon and you to confront the past and consider the future with newfound hope.

by @hobipaint

♡ Title: sakura 🌸

♡ Pairing: king!yoongi x (f) reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: mature, fluff, angst, pining

♡ Summary: yoongi could never figure out how could a sakura tree bloom right on his son’s seventh birthday. logically, atleast, for his kingdom’s soil wasn't blessed enough for beautiful flora; however, when his inspection rounds reveal a trip totally unexpected, and in a crescendo of buried memories, his love for the tree gets as bright as the petals of the blossom.

by @liveyun

♡ Title: Shatter With Me

♡ Pairing: Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader

♡ Rating: MA 18+

♡ Genre: Best Friend's Husband, Surrogacy AU | heavy angst, smut, mild fluff

♡ Summary: Your best friend, Jiyoon, and her husband, Jungkook, have faced years of hardship trying to start a family. In a last-ditch effort to have their dream life, they seek solace in surrogacy. Wanting to see your best friend smile, you offer to become the bright beacon at the end of the tunnel, giving them what they have always wanted. But what happens when you begin to shine your light on their darkness? Things aren’t always as they seem—happiness can be a façade, shattering under the lightest pressure.

by @colormepurplex2

Daddy Jungkook came home April 24. Read here!

♡ Title: Since Day One

♡ Pairing: teacher!jimin x teacher! f. reader

♡ rating: 18+

♡ Genre: enemies to lovers, coworker au, single father au

♡ Summary: Being a Pre-K teacher is no easy feat, but Jimin is always up for the challenge. However, on his first day on the job, he makes an enemy in the parking lot before he even sets foot inside the building. Looks like this school year won’t be all sunshine and rainbows after all.

by @jjungkookislife

Daddy Jimin came home April 6. Read here!

♡ Title: baby fangs

♡ Pairing: Jimin x Jungkook

♡ Rating: Explicit/18+

♡ Genre: Urban fantasy, vampires, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

♡ Summary: As a human, Jungkook thought life was meaningless. It isn’t until he dies that he finds something worth living for: the family he never had.

by @gimmethatagustd

[dari-ede]

In the Middle of the Night: Ch 23 (M)

Chapter 23: "자꾸 멀어져가" [jakku meoleojyeoga]

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

Summary: As Bangtan prepares for a new chapter in their lives, they head to their private property in the forest for a songwriting workshop. As a songwriter and producer they have worked with for years, I’m asked to tag along. I was ready for the heavy workload and small amount of sleep during the workshop week. However, I wasn’t ready for the storm that came that changed my friendship with Namjoon forever.

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut

Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Female Reader

Rating: M (language, explicit sexual scene)

Status: COMPLETE

Trigger warnings: familial problems, sexual assault scene (once again, this will have a ***** at the beginning and end), mother-daughter issues, misunderstandings

Warning/spoilers: anal, fingering

********

NOTE: First and foremost, Happy Indigo Day!!!! Don’t forget to stream/listen/buy “Indigo”! 🥰💜💜💜

Second, I'm sorry to inform you that this will be the last weekly chapter I post this month. I've fallen behind on this story due to the crazy holidays (work tends to double around this time). There is a lot I have to work on and I would rather not rush as I have been lately. There are seven chapters left (they’re mostly finished but need heavy editing), so I want to ensure I take my time with them. Plus, I have another short story I’m working on that I want to take care of first (“Seven Times I Hated Kim Seokjin”). I think I’ll be able to release one more chapter of ITMOTN in December but I won't make any promises. I’m hoping to be back to posting weekly by the beginning of the new year.

On a positive note, this chapter is a long one. Enjoy!

_______________

-Early December- 

“You do have a beautiful home, Mai-Mai,” Hoseok said as he stared into the ocean.

Hoseok, Yoongi, Taehyung, and I were all sitting in the backyard of my home. They were done with their shows and had officially started their vacation. Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook had already flown back to Seoul, the rest were staying in the States for a little longer to enjoy some of their time off. Tae and Hobi were flying out first thing in the morning with their families for their vacation while Yoongi would be staying behind alone in California. Namjoon was also set to leave tomorrow with Hakun and Yongrae and another friend of ours. They were going to be visiting several museums in the States; the trip they had been planning for months.

I was putting on a brave face. Namjoon and I were going to be separated once again. Only this time, it was going to be for much longer. I wasn’t set to go back to Korea for another two months or so. Honestly, my heart ached at thinking about it. Even with the guys' busy schedules, Namjoon and I still managed to see each other almost every day since they'd been here. It was going to be difficult not seeing him as often.

“I bet this has a killer view in the morning,” Yoongi murmured as he took a sip of the whiskey he had brought out from my collection.

An idea popped into my head, pulling me away from the sadness I was feeling. “Why not just stay here?” I asked.

Yoongi turned to me, confused.

“I have plenty of room for you, Kiwoo, and Dal. Rather than stay in the hotel, why not here? There’s plenty of security at the gate. If you need a driver, call the company I use or call Ky. His schedule is flexible.” Kiwoo and Dal were the two staff members staying behind with Yoongi. If I was going to invite Yoongi to crash at my place, I needed to extend the invitation to them.

“Use Ky as my own personal chauffeur?” Yoongi asked, chuckling at the idea.

“Get him dinner and he’ll be happy to do it,” I suggested. Yoongi tended to eat at high-quality restaurants and Ky was always too cheap to go to those places. If Yoongi agreed to take him out to dinner, I knew Ky would be happy to drive Yoongi through all of California for that free meal.

Yoongi considered it for a moment. “It's not a bad idea. The guys won't be bored here either. I’ll talk to Kiwoo and Dal.”

I smiled, liking my brilliant idea. Yoongi's flight wasn't for a couple of weeks. It would be nice to have some company. Maybe I could introduce him to an old friend of mine. I didn't get involved in my friends' love lives unless they asked for my advice. Yoongi had never asked me to introduce him to someone or even hinted at wanting to find someone, but I did have this one friend who I genuinely believed would be a great match for him.

Suddenly, Namjoon's appearance pulled me out of my thinking. He had two beers in hand. While Yoongi and Hobi were drinking the whiskey, I was craving beer. Namjoon, being the sweetheart he was, offered to get some for us. Tae opted out of drinking, which wasn't a surprise to us.

Namjoon came to my side and handed me the ice-cold beer. As he took the seat next to me, he caressed my head gently.

The butterflies in my stomach flew in all sorts of directions.

“Such a gentleman, Namjoonie,” Taehyung said as he gave his brother applause.

Hobi mimicked Tae and clapped, laughing at our expressions.

I got a light blush. For some reason, I didn't get embarrassed by the kissing or full physical flirting, but when it was small or intimate touches, I turned into a tomato. Namjoon rolled his eyes at his brothers. He took a sip of his beer and draped his arm on the back of my chair, scooting closer to me.

“You’re seriously not going to join Namjoon on his travels?” Hoseok asked me, changing the subject.

“Yeah. There just isn’t time. I’ve got some meetings with an artist on their next album. Plus, this is a guy’s trip. Namjoon and they have been planning this for months, I don't want to intrude,” I said taking a sip from my beer.

Yoongi laughed next to me. “She doesn’t want to spend all that time in museums.”

Hobi chuckled at the accusation.

I didn’t answer and took another sip. He wasn’t wrong. While I wanted to spend as much time as I could with Namjoon, it also didn’t excite me to spend that many days and hours discussing art. I enjoyed my time at an art gallery and having Namjoon next to me explaining everything, but I feel I would be more in the way than anything else if I went. But I also mean it when I said I didn’t want to intrude on his trip with the boys, all of whom were art enthusiasts.

“She’s not saying anything, so you might be right,” Hobi teased.

I flipped him off.

Namjoon turned to me, his eyes giving a mock expression of hurt. “You don’t want to spend hours of your days walking through a gallery or on your butt in a car, trying to get to another destination?”

He was so close to me that the cluster of freckles around his eyes and nose became more prominent. I swear, they looked like a constellation of stars I could not name. “Depends. If I go with you will you go to a couple of off-Broadway shows in New York?”

Namjoon pulled away and resumed drinking his alcohol, refusing to answer me. I took that as a fat ‘no’.

“The sky looks very pretty,” Tae said as he looked out into the ocean. “I bet the sunset is quite the view.”

I nodded. “The colors against the water are almost breathtaking. And the shadows it makes with the trees give you goosebumps. It gets really beautiful. Like a movie.”

“We haven’t caught a sunset in this view, right?” Namjoon asked me, pulling my chair closer to his.

I nodded. We hadn’t. We had seen one once at the beach but not at my house.

We all turned to the sun as it got closer to disappearing. Everyone was quiet.

Someone cleared his throat. “You want to shoot some pool?” Hobi asked Yoongi.

Yoongi smiled at him and nodded. “Come on, Taehyung.”

“Come on, Tae,” Hobi echoed as he got out of his chair.

“Why?” Taehyung asked, pouting. “I want to see the sunset. Sounds romantic.”

“That’s why, dummy,” Yoongi muttered as he let out a chuckle.

Hoseok took ahold of Taehyung’s arm and pulled him out of his chair. It seemed Tae finally understood why the other two wanted to go inside when I heard him make an "Aaaaaah" sound. Yoongi and Hobi simply laughed at him.

“Well, they were subtle,” Namjoon said, getting up himself and picking up our beers with one hand.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“It’s ‘where are we going’,” he corrected and took my hand, dragging me out of my chair.

I followed him over to a couch that overlooked the water. Namjoon set down the bottles on the floor and then motioned with his hand for me to take a seat first. I sat down and moved the cushions so we could recline on them and still have a good view of the sunset. Once I was done, Namjoon climbed on, pulling me to his chest.

I snuggled close, draping my leg across his stomach and placing my head on a pillow next to his own. Normally, I would have opted to lay on his chest or neck, but I wanted to keep my eyes on his face. I had first-hand knowledge of how breathtaking his face looked at sunset. There was no way I was going to miss it.

As we lay there, waiting on the sun to come fully down, Namjoon’s fingers lightly stroked my back and his other hand wrapped warmly around the thigh that was on top of him. “You really can’t meet me in New York? Even for a day before I fly out?”

I let out a groan at his words. We had discussed this several times. At first, I thought I would be able to go to New York and spend a couple of days with him, but Ky had booked us some meetings with labels which looked promising. Plus, I had a project with another artist and needed to stay in LA.

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” I said, sounding and feeling crappy.

Namjoon squeezed me. “I know. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. Just sucks.”

I nodded, holding him tighter.

He turned to me, his warm chocolate eyes landing on mine. I reached over and traced the dots around his nose and eyes lightly. “I’m gonna miss these the most.”

He snorted. “You’re the only one. I’ve never had a girl that paid them any mind. I’m not even a fan myself. Takes so much product to cover up since there’s so brown.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s so wrong with brown?” I asked jokingly.

He chuckled. “Nothing. On you, it’s beautiful,” he said, reaching for my lips and giving me a deep kiss. “But beauty standards placed upon me growing up made me have a strong dislike for them. Took me a while to simply accept them.”

My fingers continued to explore his face. “Do you like them now?”

Keeping his eyes fully on mine, he spoke. “I like that you like them.”

My heart felt like it would burst. Something lingered on my lips that wanted to desperately come out. I bit my lip, keeping myself contained. He was leaving tomorrow and we would be separated for close to two months. I needed to be rational here.

Suddenly, I noticed a change in the lighting. We both turned to the water at the same time.

The sky turned into different shades of purple and orange as the sun began to fall out of view.

Namjoon’s eyes stayed in nature, taking in the moment. “Beautiful,” he breathed out.

My eyes traced the shadows beginning to form on his face, making his features stronger. “Yeah,” I agreed.

How the fuck did I get so lucky?

**************

A few hours later, we were back at the hotel. Everyone, minus Yoongi, would be leaving first thing in the morning. It was easier if I stayed the night at the hotel than a car picking him up early from my place. As we arrived at their floor, Namjoon and my hands stayed linked.

Staff members greeted us and I noticed some of their eyes lingering on our hands. I had the instinct to pull back my hand and step away from Namjoon. However, I resisted the urge. It wasn’t getting easier being stared at, but I needed to learn how to tolerate it.

The only thing I had on me was my purse where I only had a few things. I felt slightly embarrassed and felt anxious in them knowing I would be staying over the night with no extra clothing.

Judging by Namjoon’s face, though, it didn’t seem the same worries were going through his head. Quite the opposite, he looked quite content as we held each other’s hands and got to his room. Once the door was open, he allowed me to go in first, a big smile on his face as he looked at me. Jesus. I don’t think I ever felt such conflicting emotions about his smile. On one hand, I never wanted him to stop looking at me that way, but on the other hand, I wanted him to stop. We were being watched, goddamn it.

After settling in his room, he put on some music. He needed a few things to pack and I decided to help. I looked around, searching everywhere to see if he had forgotten anything.

It didn’t take long for him to finish. However, he was having difficulties closing one of his suitcases.

He looked around the zipper, trying to figure out what was wrong.

I sat back, finding it endearing to see him struggle. Also, I knew how it sometimes irritated him when he was treated like a child. He liked to do things on his own.

After less than a minute, he figured out what was wrong. “Oh, you didn’t align this well, Namjoon,” he muttered to himself and fixed the problem.

I held back a laugh, not wanting to ruin the moment.

After closing it, he turned to me. “Finally.”

As he stared at me, I caught the glint in his eyes. I knew it all too well.

Biting his lip, he made his way to me. I was sitting on the bed, watching him. Once he got to me, he took a seat in the bed and then tugged at my arm.

I let out a laugh, understanding what he was trying to say. I moved my body on top of his, placing my thighs on either side of his legs.

Once I was sitting on his lap, his hands made their way up my back. “Hey,” he said to me, looking at me with heat in his eyes.

I came closer to him, not being able to control my smile. “Hey.”

We kissed for a moment, but nothing heated. A few touches and caresses. We were content just holding each other.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed that way, but eventually, a knock at the door snapped us out of it.

“Coming,” Namjoon called out, placing his gentle hands on my hips and applying a little bit of pressure, signaling me to move.

I brought my leg up and moved off him. His hands remained on me as he stood up. His palms gave my lower back a soft rub before letting go as if needing to touch me for as long as possible before our bodies fully separated.

I was noticing this was happening more—the gentle and intimate touches. My body and heart thrilled at the growing emotions, but I couldn’t help but get worried that things were going too fast. Opposite to Namjoon’s thinking, I didn’t think three months was too long. How could our emotions be developing so quickly and intensely? Every touch and look now felt so incredibly intimate.

As Namjoon came to the door, a staff member announced he was there to collect Namjoon’s luggage. Namjoon brought out the suitcases he would be checking into the flight but was keeping his bag and small carry-on behind.

After closing the door when the staff left, I had a lingering question. “Um, do you have an extra shirt or sweater for me?”

He looked at me, confused. “Are you cold?”

I tilted my head, giving him a “are you for real” look. “You don’t like me bringing anything when I stay the night. I would hope you have something for me to wear, at least.”

The realization finally hit Namjoon. He let out an embarrassed chuckle and went to his carry-on. “I should have a couple of shirts. Hold on.”

After finding one, he placed it on the nightstand closest to the bathroom.

On my nights here, that was the side I tended to sleep on. His remembering that and considering me brought warmth.

Namjoon went back to his carry-on and tried closing it. Unfortunately, he was having a similar difficulty with it as he had with his other suitcase. He pushed down hard on it, making a sound.

I got a little worried, thinking he might have broken something. I looked over at it but didn’t see anything damaged. Still, I stayed where I was, ready to help if Namjoon asked me to.

“Namjoon, hands nice and steady,” he muttered to himself.

As brilliant as he was and as wonderful it was to witness his moments of intelligence on the topics of art and philosophy and music, I found it equally as beautiful watching the man struggle with trivial things such as packing. And hearing him talk to himself was the icing on the cupcake.

After a couple of minutes, he turned to me and stopped what he was doing. “What? What are you smiling at?”

Damn, I got caught. “Nothing.” I looked away and tried to busy myself using my phone.

“What?” he pushed, making his way to me, determined to know what I found amusing.

“Nothing,” I repeated, feeling a smile on my face. I looked away.

He knew I was lying. He took my phone and placed it n my nightstand, next to the shirt. Then, he poked my side gently. “Tell me. What was I doing? I know you’re making fun of me.”

He knew me too well, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “No.” I squirmed away from him.

“Liar. Why don’t you tell me?” He poked me again.

“Because if I say what you were doing, you’ll stop doing it.” I backed away from him as he reached for me again. “And you look so fucking cute doing it.”

He sent me a teasing glare and looked ready to pounce.

I climbed up the bed, keeping distance between us. “Don’t.” I could read his next move.

His Cheshire smile and dragon eyes looked almost predatory. He climbed onto the bed, slowly crawling towards me.

There was a thrilling feeling that shot through me. “Don’t!”

Suddenly, I was captured. Fiery lips were on me, soft hands touching me, strong arms pinning me down. And my pussy was fully wet.

It didn’t take him long to undress us both. Then, somehow—I don’t know how—he managed to put on some loud music and take us both over to the balcony door.

Memories of the time with the butt plug flooded back, making my pussy quiver in anticipation.

He turned me around roughly, making me face the city lights like he had that one night.

His hand moved across my stomach and moved down between my legs. His fingers slipped in between until he reached my bottom lips, rubbing my clit with his talented thumb.

I mewled under his touch. One of my hands clutched his arm while the other pressed against the glass in front of me.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled into my ear, pressing his body against mine. His cock against my lower back.

I pressed my ass to his balls. “Make me wetter,” I challenged.

I could feel his dark chuckle all the way to my dripping pussy. “How would you like me to get you wetter? Finger-fucking your pussy, or…” His fingers drifted lower, moving away from my cunt and to my asshole.

We had discussed having anal sex and I had told him I was ready whenever he was. He said he wanted to wait for a special night. Tonight was our last one for a while. It seemed a better night than any. Thinking of his long cock inside me there sent shivers everywhere.

“…finger-fucking your tight, little asshole?” he finished asking as he pressed the tip of his finger into my back ring.

A sound came out of me that sounded primal. “Put it in!” I bucked my hips against his hand, my body needing him.

His finger came back to my front juices and went back to my tight little hole. “I need to lubricate it first, girl. Can’t rush this. We have all night.”

He reached down the stand next to us and took the lube I had left there. He applied some onto his fingers. Then slowly, he pushed one finger in, making circles as he went in and out in slow motion. I heard his dark, unmerciful chuckle every time I let out my primal sound.

“Please!” I begged, minutes after his slow but beautiful work. I thrust my ass against his finger, needing more friction. Unfortunately, his other hand was firmly around my waist. It was keeping me from pushing him further in.

His other hand went back to my pussy, rubbing and driving me insane. Once he had more juice coated on his hand, he moved three of his fingers to the ring of my asshole. But stayed there and didn’t move.

“Please!” I was ready to move his hand away and do it myself.

“So impatient,” he said in a mocking tone. And then he finally pushed in, his middle finger was more than halfway sucked inside me.

“My god!” I pounded the door, feeling a combination of discomfort and pleasure.

His finger slowly moved out then moved back in.

My ass shook from the indulgence.

“Shit,” he let out as my walls tightened, his teeth grazing my neck as he picked up speed.

It was perfect friction. “Yes!” I let out, rocking into his hand, and feeling grateful that he wasn’t stopping me. He was now knuckle-deep; I could I his entire middle finger sucked in.

His lips came to my ear. “Ready for another one?” I felt the tip of his forefinger tease my back entrance.

I took a deep breath and nodded frantically. “Fuck, put three in me already.”

He made me feel wild and hungry. Like I could take anything he gave me. I backed roughly into the digit inside me to prove I could handle more of him.

Another dark chuckle filled the room and I heard him spit behind me. Some of the spit landed on my round ass. He took away his finger from inside me—I whined at him—and he coated his fingers with spit. His magical digits traveled back to my hole and went in.

I bit my lip as I tried to ignore the ache I felt, doing my best to focus on the desire it would be bringing me. His fingers moved in and out at a patient pace, allowing my body to get used to the intrusion. It didn’t take too long, my body eventually loved anything Namjoon did to it. Eventually, I was bucking into his hand and letting out grunts of pleasure. My walls squeezed all his fingers, welcoming them.

His lips left pecks and small bites along my back as he brought me pleasure. His other hand took hold of one of my heavy breasts and he played with my nipple.

My back arched into his body. I was on the edge of something fucking beautiful and I wanted him to fully engulf me.

However, he didn’t let me reach my orgasm. He pulled his fingers out and I let out a whine.

My pout was short-lived when I felt his thick and massive head at my back entrance.

“Still want to do this, baby?” he asked sweetly into my ear. His lips pecked and chin.

I nodded urgently. “Please.”

He got closer to me and took hold of my lips, giving me a soft kiss. “Stop me anytime, ok?”

Another nod.

Then, softly, I felt the head of his cock push through my back entrance.

Thank god Namjoon had the music on blast. Hopefully, it was drowning out my sounds.

I felt so fucking stretched. It stung a little. Biting my lip, I allowed my body to get used to the intruder. Thankfully, the displeasure was short-lived. Namjoon’s fingers hand made their way to my clit. He did his best to bring me full pleasure as he worked my ass.

My fingers went around his arm and my nails dug into his skin. He first moved at a snail’s pace. Once he felt my body loosen, he built some momentum.

After some time, his massive cock was finally halfway in, pumping in and out of me like a jackhammer. One hand came to my curly hair, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling my neck to the side so he could nip at my neck. His other hand was pressing onto my heat, stroking my clit to keep me in full ecstasy.

“You ready to cum soon?” His fingers sped up and his hips thrust hard into me.

I let out a loud wail, but his mouth swallowed me silently.

“We’re still in the hotel, baby,” he said once his lips pulled away from mine. “Can’t have anyone start knocking on that door.”

He was right. So many people were on this goddamn floor. And I would personally murder whoever would dare interrupt us.

His cock went further in. “You’re beautiful, baby,” he says almost in a prayer-like voice.

My body was shaking and close to nirvana. My heart swelled three times its size and words lingered behind my lips again. I felt something threatening to come out.

The two of us worked in unison, bringing each other to the cliff. I was working him just as much as he was working me. I enjoyed how we moved together. We went back and forth between gentle and rough and sometimes fell in between. Usually, towards the end, our primal instincts took over and gentleness almost flew out the window. Right now, we were nearing the edge.

“Come on, baby. Come on,” he growled into my ear. The sound of flesh against flesh is loud in the room. The liquids coming out of us added an exotic sound. He pumped his thickness into me with such power, such desire, and an unidentified emotion that almost felt foreign to me.

“Namjoon,” I sob out. My feelings were flying in every direction. I was about to lose it. I clutched onto his arm, needing him to ground me. But at the same time, I knew he was the reason I was close to shattering—close to losing all control.

“I’m here, baby,” he promised. “Cum for me.”

His body moved over mine, molding me. He fused both our bodies into one.

And it was at the realization that we were merging in more ways than one when he hit a special spot inside me. His fingers stroked my clit just right. And then I became untethered. Euphoria.

My walls squeezed him tight, never wanting him to leave. I came calling out his name.

And he was right at my heels, spilling inside me and breathing out my name.

It took moments for us to come down from our high. I was so exhausted.

He left me briefly, but only to collect a cloth so he could clean me.

We fell into a sleep, wrapped around each other.

That feeling in my chest was still there.

The words stayed behind my teeth, edging to escape.

Not now, I told them. It wasn’t time….

********

I heard my phone ring. Stupid me forgot to put it on silent mode. I hurried to turn it off before it could wake up Namjoon.

I intended to reject the call—no one sane would be calling me at this hour. However, at seeing the name on my screen, I jumped out of bed, grabbed Namjoon’s shirt on the nightstand, and locked myself in the restroom.

My mother never called at this time. She was always in bed early.

“Mamá?” I asked into the phone, worried and panicked.

“Did he rape you?” her voice sounded angry and irritated.

The question threw me off. It was not what I was expecting. Plus, I had woken up from two hours of sleep. “What?” I asked.

“Did he rape you?” she asked, her voice louder as she enunciated her words.

“What are you talking about?”

“I finally got to what happened two years ago with you. It took a lot of digging and threatening a lot of past interns and secretaries if they didn’t spill, but I got to the bottom of it." She was out of breath and angry. It was tough following her. "I know you met with Chad alone around the time your contract was getting close to expiring. I know he was supposed to be there with another executive but that other executive never made it to the meeting. You were supposed to be there with Ky but Yori went into early labor and he missed the meeting.” My mother was talking so fast, I could barely make out her words. However, I understood what she was saying; what she had discovered.

My mother didn’t think highly of herself academically speaking. She thought I didn’t think highly of her intelligence, but that was far from the truth. I had always been aware of my mother’s intelligence. She was clever and resourceful. She didn’t get to where she was now without having a brain like hers. I knew it was only a matter of time before she figured out who had been the executive who had assaulted me.

“Apparently, the female assistants in the company have stories of Chad being handsy with some of them. There have been some accusations that he has even raped a couple of them. The higher-ups, of course, have managed to cover it up, but that hasn’t stopped the women from sharing suspicion. Chad’s secretary at the time says you went into the meeting alone. She didn’t know about the rumors circulating Chad at the time since she was fairly new. She said you were fine when you went into the room, but less than an hour later, you came out looking disheveled. She thought you guys had finished having sex and coughed it up to you just being an easy lay. Your makeup was a mess. Your top was open. Your hair—”

****The top button popped off. His hand reached down. Took a grab. As if it was nothing. As if he had done this multiple times. As if it belonged to him.

He squeezed and I felt my skin crawl.

I wanted to reach over and push him off.

I wanted to get up. Run. Yell. Scream. Punch him.

I tried to remember the boxing moves my brothers and cousins and uncle had taught me.

But everything was blank.

I was glued onto the chair. I was frozen into place.

One of his hands was inside my bra and the other was on my hair.

Slobber stuck onto my cheeks and lips. It was like a frog was on me.

MOVE! I yelled internally at myself, but I didn’t listen. Why the fuck wasn’t I listening?!****

“Stop!” I screamed at my mother. I had already gone over these details in therapy. I had learned how to move past it. Or so I thought. Since coming back to LA, I was starting to question whether or not I had fully healed. The last session I had with Dr. Rob was over a year ago and I had thought I was better.

Maybe I had been wrong?

“What?” My mother’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“I don’t want to relive that,” I tell her, determined.

“I knew there was no way you would ever be caught in that kind of situation. But I had to make sure, so I called Chad. I painted out the same details to him and his reaction was all I needed to know what he did to you was not consensual.”

His words sent chills down my skin. “You talked to Chad?” The name came out of my lips and it tasted like vaseline.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?”

I felt an anger boil at my core. “Madre, I didn’t tell you so you could stick your nose where it didn’t belong. This is my issue. I’m the victim here, not you.”

“You’re my daughter—”

“Yes, I’m your daughter. So instead of thinking and acting on your emotions, think of fucking mine for a change.”

“Something has to be done about this. That asshole can’t get away with this. You have to report him.”

The thought of going to the police made me feel more uneasy. “Listen, this isn’t up for discussion. I’m hanging up.”

“We’re going to talk about it, Maya. I’ll come over to your house right now.” I was certain she meant it.

“I’m not at home, Madre. I’m over at a friend’s house.”

“I’ll be over next week, then,” she promised.

I let out a sigh and hung up on her before I fully came apart.

My hands were shaking and I was taking deep breaths to settle myself down.

How had I allowed my mother to bring me to this stage? It felt like it had just happened. Like I had just lived it. Shit, I should have never answered the phone. I should just block her from now on. Talking to her for too long makes me feel like a broken child. A weak, fragile, lost child.

I did my best to calm myself. It took a long time, but I refused to leave the bathroom until I was fully ok. I didn’t want this to ruin my last day with Namjoon. If he saw how upset I was, he would focus fully on me and wouldn’t get any sleep. And it was going to be a long trip for him. He needed to save his energy.

Finally, I came out of the restroom, feeling settled.

I found Namjoon sitting on the bed, fully awake, and his eyes on me. A look of concern was written on his face.

“Is everything ok?” he asked.

I nodded, climbing onto the bed and giving him a small smile. “Everything is ok. Just some small family drama. Nothing to worry about. Everyone’s healthy.”

His brows knitted together as he continued to look at me. “Are you sure? You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” I said, genuinely. I got under the covers.

“Do you want to talk about it in the morning, then?” he pressed.

“We have breakfast with the others in the morning. And then you have your flight pretty early,” I answered.

“So?” he sounded a little annoyed.

I tried to rationalize with him. “You need rest, Namjoon.”

He took a breath. “Ok. Will we discuss it tomorrow night then?”

“After a long day of travel and activities?” I asked, hinting I didn’t think it was a good idea.

“So, when do you think we’ll talk about it?” I quickly noted he was keeping his voice tightly controlled.

My heart quickened a bit, nerves kicking in. I strongly disliked thinking of the future. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice sounding low.

“Next month? Two months from now?” He was pushing, his eyes now digging into mine.

A feeling of intimidation came over me and made me look away. I didn’t know how to answer him. The thought of sharing with him the memory of when I never felt weaker and more worthless was unimaginable. I never wanted him to know that story.

He looked more than annoyed. “When are we going to get past this? Things with us are not new,” he said with finality. His jaw jutted forward, his chest back. He’d never been this angry with me before. “We’ve been together for 100 days. And every time I want to go further, this is what I’m met with: a wall. Also, when I bring up our progress and what our next step should be, you say the same thing: ‘It’s new. Let’s take it slow.’ How much slower are we going to take it?”

I sat there, not sure what to say that wouldn’t get him angrier at me.

“I mean, you can’t even tell the truth to your family about me,” he said.

This threw me off. Weren’t we passed the Thanksgiving incident? “I genuinely meant to tell my brothers, Namjoon,” I said as calmly as I could. “I didn’t keep you a secret from them on purpose.”

“It’s not just your brothers. What about your parents?” he challenged. “Seems like you have no interest in telling them. I heard you talking to your mom.”

Blood drained from me. Fuck. What had he heard?

“You told her you were at a friend’s house. Not boyfriend, but a friend’s.”

I was slightly relieved by this. It meant the worse he heard had been my mislabeling of him to my mother rather than discussing my sexual assault. I tried to keep my voice calm as I tried to explain myself to him. “Not everyone has an amazing relationship with their parents like you do, Namjoon. Some parents are fucked up.”

“I know you don’t have a great relationship with her, but why lie to me about it? You’re still holding back in telling me the whole truth about your relationship with your mom,” he rambled.

“What?” I asked, caught off guard. “I’ve told you everything there is to say about her. About both my parents. Do you want explicit details of the fights I heard? Of the violence I witnessed?”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. There’s something else—something more when it comes to your mother. You left Los Angeles for a reason—it wasn’t just because of your ex. Something happened and you don’t want to tell me. I heard you discussing Chad. You got upset at your mom for talking about him. Chad was one of the executives at your label, I remember. What’s going on with him?” he asked in a demanding tone.

He had said his name. And he was upset with me. My anxiety was not faring well as I felt my palms start getting clammy. My heart rate accelerated.

I decided to go with some honesty. “You’re my best friend, Namjoon. I tell you almost everything. I’ve told you about my issues with my mother.”

The melty, cocoa eyes that made me feel alive so many times were now digging into me and making me feel pathetically small. “You haven’t told me everything. You’re keeping things from me. Including the real reason why you left. I thought eventually you would open up to me. As a friend, I accepted you keeping that secret. But we’re not just friends anymore. I want more. I need more.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

Almost like a sudden switch flipped, his eyes lost all the hardness in them. “Why are you keeping it from me? Do you not trust me?” he asked with a voice of genuine hurt.

Guilt began to make its way through me. “Of course I do!”

“Then what is it? Why can’t you take that step with me—open up?” his voice was edging towards desperation. “Our feelings are past taking things slow. I know you know it. This is when things have to leap forward. There is no backward; there is no freezing time.”

I tried to control my breathing and shaking. After a moment, I said, “I feel if we don’t take it slow, then we’re bound to make a mistake.”

His eyes lost their softness. Their sharpness came back. His chest huffed forward as if my pulled by my words. “Boundto?”

I was puzzled at his reaction and didn’t quickly respond.

“As in, you know it’s not going to work out? You don’t have hope for us?” There was a mixture of hurt and anger in his voice.

I regretted my use of words. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then, what did you mean?” he demanded.

I took a breath, trying to think quickly of what I could say to make this better. “Every other relationship I’ve been on has ended badly. And I think it’s because I rush things. I can’t do that with you. I feel if we take things slow—if we take our time in getting completely serious, then we have a higher likelihood of being successful.”

His jaw clenched. He let out an exasperated breath as his dark eyes looked down at me with puzzlement and frustration. “You let me—” he stopped himself, looking as if he was inwardly reasoning with himself. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and turned away from me.

Something clawed at my heart seeing him like this. My words were driving him to such anger and I don’t know what it was that I had just said that made him look like he wanted to punch a wall.

“What?” I asked, my voice small but determined. As much as I feared to know the answer, I still wanted to know. When it came to Namjoon, I always wanted to know.

He didn’t speak, just kept his eyes away from me.

It felt like a knife was now pushing its way into the organ that kept the blood flowing through my veins. “What?” What had I done to cause him such disturbance?

He shook his head, taking some steps away from me. He walked towards the door. To get away from me.

My body jerked forward, acting on its own. “Don’t.”

I didn’t scream it out, but my voice wasn’t small either. It was said in a tone I had never made before. And it was enough to make him stop. His body instinctively turned back to mine, his eyes looking concerned at my tone.

“Don’t,” I repeated with the same voice.

He didn’t leave, but he didn’t walk back to me either. He was thinking—debating with himself. He was trying to figure out how to work through this. I did my best to wait patiently, despite how desperately I wanted to start groveling.

Please. Please. Please. Seeing his back towards me cracked something in me. If he left…I don't know what would become of me.

Finally, he took in a breath and looked straight at me. “Why are you with me, Maya?”

What kind of question was that? “What?”

“Why are you with me? Why do you want to be with me?”

Was he serious? “Because I like you.”

“But what is it about me that makes you want me as a boyfriend?” he challenged.

Did this have to do with his self-loathing? Is that what this was stemming from? Was Namjoon having an episode again—how had I missed it? “You’re kind and funny and smart,” I said in a rush, needing him to know that he was completely valuable. If he needed reassurance to crush his self-hatred, I would give it to him.

But Namjoon didn’t look moved. “Seokjin is all those things. Why not be with him?”

Honestly, it felt like I was experiencing whiplash. “What?”

“What makes me boyfriend material for you?”

“Namjoon, I don’t know where this is coming from—”

“Is it my friendship?”

“Yes.”

“You can have that with Hoseok. Do you like how you can relate to me musically?”

“Yes.”

“You can have that with Yoongi.”

“Namjoon, will you—”

“Are you with me only for sex?" His voice was full of hurt and pain. His eyes were wet and red with agony. "Because I’m a good lay?”

This left me at a loss for words.

It took a moment for him to speak again, still keeping full control of his tone. “What we just did is not something I’ve done many times. Certainly not with someone I’m just casually seeing. It’s a carnal act that I treasure. An act I don’t take lightly. I’ve had a couple of one-night stands, and they weren’t for me. I told you this. I’m no prude, but I don’t do certain things in the bedroom that are that intimate with just anyone. You’ve told me how open you are with past guys—whether it be one-night stands or serious relationships. You’ve given it up easily before, whatever. But I’m not that way. I can’t detach emotions from sex. And the fact that you don’t feel strongly for me and you did that with me…. I just don’t know how to feel about that.”

It felt like a knife was being injected into me. In so many words, he was telling me what he thought of me: I gave it up easily. I had let him take me up the ass without the emotion of love attached. I could think of the perfect word of what he thought I was….

“We started this wrong,” he said, further pushing the knife into me. “Sex should have come much later and I knew that. But like a fucking horndog, I gave in.”

I could throw up right now.

Tears began to make their way out of his eyes. “I can’t do this, Maya. I can’t be in a relationship where it’s just about sex. I want more. And I can’t even say we can go back to being friends because I can’t. I can’t and won’t go back to that. I respect myself too much.” He sniffed, his head low.

And he walked out.

The door closed with a soft click.

I was left alone with his words floating in the air.

He respected himself….

Himself.

He didn’t say he respected me.

A slut.

I could feel my anxiety tipping over the edge. I needed to get out of here quickly.

Stumbling out of the bed, I took off his shirt, putting on my spaghetti strap and bottoms. I had no idea where my second top had landed. I hurried to find my keys and got the hell out of there. I couldn’t find my shoes fast enough for my liking, so I left barefoot.

I looked like a whore who had just been fucked and used, walking down the halls barefoot and with only my skirt and spaghetti strap on. Tears had smeared all of my makeup. I looked like a goddamn wreck. My shoes and undergarments had been left behind. Security both gawked at me and looked away in shame.

The scene I was in was similar to two and a half years ago….

I felt nothing but humiliation. The sobs came fully down the moment the elevator doors closed.

__________________

Last note: Sorry that weekly posting is ending on this scene. I wish it had been a much happier one. 😖

Also, Happy Holidays, everyone. Be sure to look after your health during this time; be happy and merry. And if you have a mother like Maya or your family has similar toxic traits, do yourself a favor and cut them off. You deserve better. 🥰

___________

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

[casuallyimagining]

Family. Duty. Self. || myg

Less of Them - One: Family. Duty. Self.

NSFW. minors dni Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 9,968

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: weaponry (swords), language; nsfw: awkward first-time, hand-job, fingering, unprotected sex

Notes: Thanks to @oddinary4bts for really coming in clutch and helping with the smut and to both her and @daechwitatamic for encouraging me to make it more sad.

The book mc is reading at the beginning is Wurthering Heights.

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

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The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind.

The clank of metal against metal grates against your ears and jolts you out of your book. It’s a nice day, and you had some free time; you thought that maybe it would be nice to read outside for a change. But now, you aren’t sure that was the greatest idea you’d ever had.

…shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully-

The soft thump of a dulled blade hitting the softness of a body and an exasperated curse again draws you away.

“Again,” a gruff voice commands, and there’s the clink of metal clashing briefly.

Another voice groans. “This is pointless.”

“Your father told me to teach you how to fight,” the first voice says. “Again.”

You roll your eyes. They’d been at this for a week now. You were starting to believe that maybe it was pointless.

It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the “missis,” an individual whose existence I had never previously-

Metal against metal once again, and then the clatter of a sword falling into the dirt. A frustrated sigh.

I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me-

A soft thud, then, “Shit.”

I bowed and waited, thinking-

The shriek of metal on metal, then the clatter of a sword hitting the dirt. “Shit!”

I bowed and-

“Take a break,” the gruff voice says, and the second voice grumbles something in response. “Don’t go far. We have more work to do.”

You try to go back to your book, you really do. But then a body plops down under the tree beside you. Ever so gently, the book is taken from your hands. He keeps a finger in the pages to mark where you’d left off, but he turns the book to inspect the cover and the spine. He hums. It’s his book.

“You shouldn’t torture him like that,” you chide once he’s returned the book to your hands. “You know he isn’t suited for it.”

“Your father wants him trained.”

“You and I both know Namjoon has no business on a battlefield.”

At that, he laughs. “His form is really terrible.”

“Even I’m better than he is.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh come on, Yoon.” You roll your eyes and nudge him slightly. You both know you’re right. His father had trained you beside Yoongi, and while you hadn’t been as quick to the blade as the young knight, you could defend yourself well enough.

He stands, plucks the book from your hand once again, and leans in so that his face is mere centimeters from your own. “Come, then, my lady. Prove yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.” 

He closes the gap, lips connecting to yours ever so briefly. Even though the kiss is short, it sets your veins alight all the same.

“Fine,” you say when he pulls back. “To battle, then, Min Yoongi.”

He smirks, and you steal a kiss when he helps you stand. For a moment, he has the audacity to look offended, but you push him out of the way.

“Come on,” you say. “You wanted to spar. Let’s get it over with.”

“We’ll see how smug you are when you’ve been defeated.”

You shrug and follow him to the training yard. It’s only a few feet from the tree you had been reading under, but your back had been to it, and you’d been unable to see Namjoon before he left. Now, though, you can see that your younger brother had gone in a huff, his practice sword tossed carelessly to the side. You pick it up. It’s a bastard sword, longer than you’d like and a little on the heavy side, but it’ll do. You roll your wrist, testing the balance as you wait for Yoongi to ready himself.

As he turns to face you, you widen your stance. You know you look ridiculous, legs and arms wide, positioned better to climb a tree than for sword fighting. It has its intended effect, though, because Yoongi erupts into a fit of near-silent giggles, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What are you doing?” he asks gleefully.

“Are we not fighting?” you question, deepening your voice to match Namjoon’s lower timbre. “Is this not how you do it?”

He almost drops his sword, he laughs so hard. “Okay, fine,” he says, body still shaking from giggles. “You can go back to your book.”

You smile. That hadn’t really been your goal, but you aren’t one to turn down an opportunity. You hand him the practice sword as you pass and open your mouth to leave him with one last quip about trying to be patient with Namjoon, but he catches your waist as soon as he can and pulls you flush against him. Immediately, your hands come up to rest on his chest, playing with the loose collar of his cream colored shirt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask coyly, tugging a little at the fabric over his collarbone.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Can you?”

He kisses you then, properly this time, firm hands on the small of your back, holding you against his body. He’s warm and soft and solid, and you can smell a hint of the cologne you’d bought him for his last birthday. His kiss is slow, almost lazy, but there’s a greed in it, like he could keep at this forever if you’d let him.

You’re tempted to let him.

You slide your hand up his chest to tangle in the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You give a gentle tug, and he lets out a low whine.

“Don’t tease, my lady,” he mumbles darkly, pulling away just far enough to kiss up your jaw. “I’m afraid you’ll start something you aren’t prepared to finish.”

You never get the chance to respond. Namjoon calls your name, his voice floating down from the walkway that overlooks the courtyard. Immediately, Yoongi jumps away from you. Your relationship is no secret, but he’s always been shy, and you’ve long grown used to his fleeing any time anyone sneaks up on you.

Namjoon calls for you again, this time, his voice is closer, and when you turn, you can see he’s running down the stairs. He pauses momentarily, catching his breath for just a second before blurting out, “Father is looking for you. He’s received some official-looking letter and asked me to come fetch you.”

You hum and nod. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be along soon.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’d better come now.”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi, who stands now just off to the side. His cheeks and ears are tinged ever so slightly pink, and he busies himself with inspecting one of the practice blades. He must feel you looking at him, because his dark eyes connect with yours. You shoot him a look that you hope conveys an apology. He nods toward the keep silently before picking up the discarded sword and wandering off in the direction of the armory.

“Lead the way,” you tell your brother, gesturing in the direction he’d come from.

You follow him out of the yard, up the stairs onto the walkway and into the keep. Evening is starting to fall, and the attendants already have the sconces lit in the halls to stave off the darkness. You pass some of them as you go, and they nod respectfully–more to you than to Namjoon, but he’s younger and has never really cared about being deferred to in the way that you are. 

He leads you to your father’s study, and when you enter, you’re shocked at how full it is. You’ve always loved this room, filled to the brim with the finely crafted furniture made by the people of the forest town. Blackwood trees are known to have a delicate, earthy aroma long after they’ve been felled, so the study has always smelled as warm and inviting as it felt. Now, though, with the number of eyes that dart in your direction when the door opens, you’re uncomfortable.

The five of them sit at the heavy, ebony round table in the center of the room. Your father sits with his back to the window, his fingers steepled and his brow furrowed, papers strewn about in front of him. To his left sits your step-mother, a rare good day for her. She looks grim, but you get the sense that the pain she’s feeling may not be just her own. Namjoon takes a seat to her right. To your father’s left sits Jaesung, your father’s advisor and head of the armory for as long as you can remember. The look on his face is neutral, but you can see an anger behind his eyes. In nearly 30 years, you’ve never seen Jaesung angry. Beside him sits Seokjin, your elder step-brother, a fidgeting ball of nerves. 

“Come,” your father says gently, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

You can feel a chill as you pass them all. Your step-mother, paralyzed by an unknown pain. Jaesung, poised for a war you don’t yet understand. And Seokjin, who refuses to look at you, even as you sit down beside him. 

It all makes you nervous.

Your father stands, the chair pushing out behind him as he leans forward, passing you the papers in front of him. It’s a letter, the wax seal on the envelope indicating it was sent from the Ironhold.

A letter from the king, you muse. What could he possibly want?

It’s no secret that there’s little love between your family–the Lins of Castle Blackwood–and the Chois in the Crownlands. The Chois have sat on the throne of Cotaria for hundreds of years, and the seat of the Crownlands for hundreds of years before that, and their customs have been around for just as long. They don’t like how your father rules the Westerlands, but there isn’t much they can do about it. The Lin family is far older and has had far longer to build ties, and you contribute more to the Crown’s stores than the Chois would care to admit. 

Your gaze falls to the letter in your hands, reading but not comprehending what it says. You fixate on certain words. Duty. King. Auspicious. Marriage. But no matter how many times you read it, no matter how long you stare at the neatly printed words in front of you, they don’t make sense.

The room is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t like how long it’s been since someone’s said something, don’t like how they watch you. Your mouth is dry, and it feels like you’ve tried to swallow a rock.

“This is real?” you manage, swallowing hard. When did your hands start shaking?

“I’m afraid so,” your father responds. His voice is soft, measured.

“And?”

“We did not ask for this.”

“And yet here we are.”

He sighs. “And yet here we are.”

You close your fist around the paper, crumpling it. Beside you, Seokjin jumps, startled. For the briefest of moments, you close your eyes.

Marriage to the king. A man you’d met once three years ago at his father’s funeral. He’d been miserable then, a spoiled brat too accustomed to getting his own way. You’d dreaded the funeral, dreaded being forced to interact with the young king, dreaded having to be pleasant to him. But you’d plastered on a smile and endured the funeral and feast. And now he wanted to take you away from your home, your family.

Your Yoongi.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to your father’s study. You can’t think of him right now. “This,” you lift your fist, the letter still clutched tightly within. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice,” Namjoon blurts, immediately shrinking back into his chair. 

Your father hums. “You can decline. Your brother is right.”

“Jaesung?” The man’s eyes snap to yours, and you’re struck by how similar they are to his son’s–dark, cat-like, ever-observant. “If I say no…?”

He takes a moment, his head bobbing back and forth as he weighs the options. “Chances of retaliation are high, yes.”

“We would weather it,” your father says. “Our family has endured far worse.”

“And if they strip us of our titles? Take away our home?” You toss the letter into the center of the table. “Either way, we lose.”

“So just tell him to fuck off,” Namjoon says. Your step-mother frowns, and immediately, he wilts under her gaze. “Sorry, mother. But you understand what I mean. If both options are bad, pick the best worst choice.”

You glance up, above your father, above the window behind him. The family crest hangs there, centered on the wall. A sea of blue with green chevron, golden thistle in the foreground. The Lin family words are engraved into the bottom: Loyalty does not yield. 

Loyalty. It’s been ingrained in you since birth. To family, duty, self. All three in tandem. Now, though, they’re pitted against each other. Your family against your own desires. Your desires against your duty. An impossible choice.

You make eye contact with your father across the table. He nods almost imperceptibly and sighs.

“The steward arrives tomorrow?” you ask softly.

Jaesung nods. “Letter said they would arrive the day after it did.”

“Okay.”

There’s precious little to discuss after that. Jaesung is the first to go, the war in his eyes more fierce than when you’d entered. He doesn’t look at you as he goes. Your stepmother leaves shortly after, walking around the table to you. Her hands find your shoulders, skin cold against yours. She gives a gentle squeeze and kisses the top of your head.

When she’s gone and the door is closed behind her, Namjoon erupts. “You realize how ridiculous this is, right?” he asks. It’s directed toward your father. “They would never dream of doing this to any of the other old families.” 

Seokjin sighs. “They couldn’t.” His voice is soft, but holds all the authority of older brother.

Ever insightful, your step-brother is right. The Lin family is the only one of the old families that allows for a female heir, and even then, your father had only married Seokjin and Namjoon’s mother after his first wife–your mother–had died. You’d been here first. In your father’s mind, you were the clear heir. It helps that Seokjin, older than you by one year, has never shown much interest in leading, and between you and Namjoon, you have always been more eager to learn everything. But because all of the other heirs of the old families are male, they will never be put in this position.

You stand. Your head hurts, and so does your heart. You don’t look at your father as you leave the study, too afraid of what you might see.

You’d intended to go to your chambers, but when you get to the staircase, instead of going up, you go down. Yoongi’s chamber is at the end of this wing of the castle, closest to the outer wall and the library tower. Over the years, you’ve probably spent just as much time there as you have in your own chambers. But this is the first time you’ve felt nervous standing at his door.

You knock. You almost never knock, but it feels weird barging in right now, when you’re standing on the precipice of a future so far in the opposite direction of what you’d been imagining. The door opens, and there he is, leaning casually against the heavy, blackwood door. You must be some sort of sight, because almost immediately, he frowns, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“Jagi?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

It’s all it takes. You surge forward, hands coming up to cup his face gently. It’s easy to fall into him, easy to lose yourself in his kiss. He lets you push him back into his room, shutting and locking the door behind you in one easy motion. 

He laughs a little as you kiss up his jaw. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You don’t answer. Right now, you just want to lose yourself in him. The room is not large, and you’re able to push him toward the bed in only a few steps. He pauses when his legs hit the edge of the goose feather mattress. Gently, you push and he falls backward, his hands on your waist pulling you down with him.

You hover over him for a moment, just holding his gaze, losing yourself in the dark eyes you’ve come to love so much. You wonder if he’s able to read the distress in your eyes–maybe he is, because he pulls you down in a kiss that leaves your mind spinning, as his hands tighten on your waist ever so slightly.

His tongue hesitantly darts out to meet your lips, and surprised, you pull away to meet his gaze again. His cheeks are slightly flushed pink, and his lips glisten prettily in the light of the sconce on the wall. 

You survey his features carefully, feeling your own cheeks turning red as you realize that you don’t want to stop. Not tonight. You want to be able to feel him at least once before you have to go. You bend down again to capture his lips in a languid kiss, welcoming his tongue against your own the moment he does it again.

You gently move your hands up his frame, burying them in his soft hair as he wraps his arms around you to pull you flush against him. You have half a thought that you’ll crush him, but you can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue awkwardly swipes at yours again, earning a breathy sound from you that you’ve never made before.

It startles both you and him, and you pull away from the kiss once more, meeting his gaze.

“What was that?” he asks, the flush on his cheeks having deepened from the prolonged kiss.

You find you can’t look at his eyes anymore, your own gaze sliding away. You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know.”

He kisses your jaw to gain your attention again, but your eyes stubbornly stay away. That is, until he says, “It was cute.”

Your gaze shoots back to his. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me again,” he asks, and there’s something new in his tone. A desire you’ve never really seen, or maybe it’s just manifesting differently this time around.

Maybe he can feel the sense of urgency in the moment. But he doesn’t question you, just welcomes your lips against his the moment you kiss him again, unable to resist the pull of his gravity.

His hands move down your back, and hesitantly, he grazes his fingers over the curve of your ass, barely even touching. You feel electrified, like lightning is coursing through your bloodstream, and you bite on his bottom lip.

He grunts. He grunts and you know that there is no way you’ll stop now. Not when you sit back on his lap, hands resting on his chest to hold you up. Even through his linen shirt, you feel his heart beating wildly, echoing your own. 

And right where you’re perched, you feel the hint of his arousal, matching the arousal that’s slowly warming up your core.

You’ve touched each other before. It was awkward, neither of you really knew what you were doing, and you’d stopped, too afraid to get caught, too afraid of the consequences. 

Tonight though? You want to feel his skin on yours, want his warm breath to mingle with your own while you lay with him. So you grab his tunic, pushing it up until it reveals a small sliver of pale skin on his lower stomach. You look at it, admire it as if it’s art, and then you meet Yoongi’s gaze again.

“Can you take this off?” you ask, fingers shaking even though your voice holds firm.

He nods, sitting up so that he can remove the shirt. It brings him close to your face, and you can’t resist but kiss him again, molding your lips to his like it was always meant to be.

But not anymore. 

You push the thought away, wanting to focus on Yoongi, on this moment with him. You want to commit it to memory, to remember every plane of his body as he finally, slowly takes his shirt off, revealing more of his sculpted frame.

Being a knight has its advantages. And they show in the powerful build of Yoongi’s body, even though he’s a little more on the lean side. You gently rest on your hands on his chest, before gently caressing down, reveling in the feel of his warm skin under your fingers and palms.

He watches you, lips slightly parted, until your fingers graze the hem of his pants. But then he stops you, grabbing your hands in his.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs when your eyes meet his. “You really want to do this?”

You nod, breathing out a soft, “Yes.” You nod again, though your cheeks burn. “Yes, I want it. All of it.”

He gulps, eyes darting to your lips before going back to your gaze. “Can I take your corset off?”

The question sends your heart into overdrive, yet you agree, guiding his hands to the knot at the top of the corset. You notice his fingers shaking as he slowly starts untying it, much like your own fingers are trembling, and you let out a small chuckle.

It’s unexpected, and a little awkward, yet it feels right in this moment with him. He laughs lightly as he struggles, a sound that makes you feel like you could soar in the sky beside the ravens and falcons of the Blackwood. 

Maybe, if you could fly, you’d never have to go to the Ironhold.

Again, you push the thought away to focus on Yoongi’s fingers as they struggle with the laces. He curses under his breath, which makes you chuckle again.

“Let me help,” you tell him, and he begrudgingly lets you take the lead, the tip of his ears red.

You’re much more efficient, and soon enough, you’re able to undo the lacing and take off the stupid garmetn, leaving you in just your linen tunic. Yoongi runs his hands up your sides, dragging the fabric of your shirt up, and your breath hitches in your throat when he slides his hands under the fabric.

His fingers leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin, and he brings his hands up until he’s able to grab your breasts, squeezing lightly. He grunts softly again, and you feel something twitch under your lap.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out.

He doesn’t look at you, just keeps staring at the spot where his hands cover your breasts, hidden beneath your shirt. You take that as a cue to pull the fabric off, and you throw it to the side, to meet his own shirt where it fell to the floor.

Yoongi stares at your chest, eyes slightly widened, cheeks flushed, and his breathing is quicker than usual, as if he’s been sparring for a while. It makes you feel powerful to know that you’re the one with this effect on him, and you smile down at him when he finally meets your gaze again.

“You really are so beautiful,” he says again, as if in awe. 

You blush at the compliment, leaning down so that you can kiss him again. To your surprise, his hands leave your breasts to rest flat on your back, and you almost screech when he spins you around, until he’s lying on top of you. 

As he’s hovering over you, Yoongi stares down at you, chest moving fast from his quick inhales and exhales. 

“Sorry, my lady,” he apologizes at the look on your face.

You chuckle shyly. “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He pecks your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I like taking you by surprise. Doesn’t happen often.”

You melt for him. Like the last snow under the spring sun, you melt for him. Your hand grip his biceps as he looks down at your perked nipples, and you feel like molten ore as he then traces his lips along your neck, down down down until he reaches the top of your breast.

He kisses there, once, before going lower, flicking your nipple with his tongue. When your hands wrap around his shoulders, he does it again, a little harder.

“Yoongi…”

His lips close around your nipple, and he sucks hard. You squirm at the foreign sensation, and Yoongi quickly meets your gaze, apologies written in his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you immediately reassure him. “It just feels… strange.”

He nods once, and then looks at your nipple, now shimmering with his saliva. “Do you want me to do it again?”

You grab his face, pulling him up to kiss you instead. He doesn’t resist, and he sighs against your mouth as you run your hands through his hair. 

Yoongi is gentle. He always has been, but tonight he’s even more so, taking his time to take off your pants once you part from the kiss. He realizes that you’re still wearing your boots when your pants are around your calves, and he curses under his breath as he unties them and slides them off, while you laugh awkwardly, hiding your face behind your hands.

When he finally manages to take all of your clothes off, you look at him from behind your fingers, admiring how his eyes darken as he looks down at your pussy. You instinctively want to hide, to close your thighs together, and he quickly says, “Don’t… it’s…” he clears his throat. “You’re so pretty.”

Your hands fall away from your face, and you hold his gaze longingly, hoping that tonight will never end. That somewhere along the line, you’ll be able to stop time, so that you can dwell in an eternity of lying here with him.

But fantasies like that are works of fiction, and you can’t alter time. So when he stands to take off his own clothes, you quickly sit on the edge of the bed, helping him with his belt even though your hands feel clumsier than they usually are. Maybe because of the nerves wracking through you–it’s hard to tell, and you frankly don’t care.

Because this is Yoongi. Your Yoongi. You want this to be with him, a memory to treasure forever once you’re gone.

A few seconds later, Yoongi is out of his clothes too, and you think your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him.

You’ve never seen him fully naked like this. You’ve touched him, hands sliding in his pants to wrap around his length while you kissed. But you’ve never seen him, standing proud and tall and leaking precum just inches from your face.

It’s sinful, and you look up to meet his gaze as you hesitantly wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping quickly.

He winces, grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Not so fast,” he tells you gently.

You slow down, biting your lower lip, and then your eyes fall down the pretty expanse of his body until you’re watching what you’re doing so that you can do it properly.

Or at least, what you assume is proper.

Yoongi grunts softly as you jerk him off, hips thrusting forward instinctively once in a while. Something wet is pooling between your legs, and all you can do is look at him, at the tip leaking with precum. He’s rock hard under your fingers, rigid veins and velvety soft skin, and it makes your heart race in your chest with every swift motion of your wrist.

“Stop,” Yoongi lets out, sounding out of breath. “Or I… I won’t be able to do more.”

You let go of him, hand sheepishly falling in your lap. Yoongi sits next to you, and he gently pulls you closer. This kiss is softer, slowly, born of the love between you and him.

He pushes you down until you’re lying on the bed again and climbs on top of you. You spread your legs for him, wrapping them around his waist, which leads to the head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

You let out a soft moan that has him pull away. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

You laugh. “No, you’ve barely touched me yet.”

He seems conflicted for a while, brows furrowing. “Should I touch you first?”

“I don’t… know,” you admit.

You both exchange a look, and Yoongi quirks an eyebrow before finally deciding for the two of you, kneeling between your legs. His eyes drop to your pussy once more, and he hesitantly brings a hand to the apex of your thighs. You stiffen, waiting for his touch, and the moment one of his fingers slides between your folds, a volcano erupts inside of you.

He slowly pushes in, stopping at the first knuckle to gauge your reaction. When you don’t give any sign of discomfort, he finishes pushing in, until most of his finger is swallowed by you.

“It’s so tight,” he says, but there’s barely any lust behind it. Just curiosity, which makes you laugh. He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you. And then he starts moving his finger again. “How does it feel?”

“Strange,” you admit. “Good?”

Though you say it like a question, he nods. And he keeps at it for a while, slowly fingering you. The sensation is new but not unpleasant, the slow drag of his finger against your walls, the slight arch of it as he pushes in and out. It makes you want more, and you blindly grope for his cock, though your hand falls short and lands on his thigh instead.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“I think I want you.”

He stops moving his finger, before pulling it out to return to his previous position. Suddenly bold, Yoongi holds the base of his cock so that he can rub it on your pussy, and his lips parted as he looks down at you.

You moan softly, and he watches you for a moment, never pushing in. Once again, he asks, “You’re sure?”

You nod. “Please.”

It doesn’t take him more to push in, slowly. It hurts, and your face contorts in pain, which makes him stop between your legs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, about to pull out.

“No, it’s…” You wrap your legs so tight around him that he can’t move. “They say it’s supposed to hurt. At first.”

“Oh?”

You shrug. You’d heard the handmaids gossiping, and after a while, you’d just accepted it as fact.

He nods once, before gently caressing your thighs. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“I promise,” you whisper.

And though it really does hurt, you don’t stop him as he finishes pushing all the way in, stilling when he’s fully sheathed within you. There, he stops, leaning down so that he can kiss you again, his tongue dancing languidly with yours. You hold him close, bask in the feel of the weight of him on you as his hand finds your hip, his thumb caressing circles into your skin.

It takes a moment, but the pain slowly lessens until it turns into a numb sensation that you can almost entirely ignore. You nod. “I’m ready.”

He moves from your mouth to your neck, and he says against your skin, “I don’t know what to do.”

You hold him tighter. “Just move. I want to feel you.”

He nods, and then he pulls almost all the way out, before pushing in again. It still hurts, but when he does it again the pain is less, and by the tenth time you barely feel it anymore. 

You kiss his shoulder, and Yoongi sighs, his lips ghosting on the side of your neck before he decides to suck on it, and the sensation makes you moan again, your arms tightening around you.

“Jagi…”

“Yoongi,” you breathe out like an echo.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to last long,” he admits. “You feel… like silk.”

You nod. “It’s okay.” You kiss his shoulder again, before adding, “Do you think you can go faster?”

He stops moving for a time, meeting your gaze. His dark eyes are filled with intensity, with lust, passion and love for you. He kisses you gently, thumb brushing against your cheek, and then he increases his rhythm. 

Your words seem to unleash him, because the second you let out a small moan again, Yoongi starts going even faster, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room. Even though it feels strange, you let him do it, keep holding him close, and soon enough, pleasure starts to vibrate in you, ignited by every deep thrust.

It’s a little rough, a little clumsy, but Yoongi’s pace doesn’t falter. He grunts in your ear, and you instinctively dig your nails in the skin of his back.

That’s when he loses it. He stills deep inside of you, moaning softly, and you feel his cock twitch as he releases. You hold him through his high, gently caressing his back even though he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat–you don’t care about it. It’s him, and you think you love all of him. 

You breathe in and out, slowly, as he’s still deep inside of you. When he turns his head towards you, you kiss him deeply, trying to pour all the love in your heart into the act, trying to let him know that forever and always, he’s the one that you’ll love.

Eventually, the kiss ends, the need for breath overcomes it, and Yoongi lies next to you. When he pulls out of you, you feel his warm seed dripping out, and you blush at the feeling, at the dirtiness of it, though you don’t think there’s anything purer than what just happened between you and him. So you put your head on his chest, molding yourself into his side, content just to lay with him.

It’s quiet, your mingled breathing and the sound of his heart under your ear the only noises in the room. You try to concentrate on everything, to commit it to memory. The warmth of his body, the gentleness of his touch, the stillness of everything. It’s electric, the way his fingers slowly ghost up and down your bare arm. He presses the gentlest of kisses to the crown of your head, and you have to force yourself to stay here, in this moment.

You aren’t sure what prompts it, but his arm tightens around you. “What’s wrong?” he hums, tilting his head so that he can better see your face. “Are you okay?”

Until this moment, you’d been doing well, keeping yourself together as your world shatters around you. But the concern in Yoongi’s voice, it breaks you. You don’t respond to him, merely bury your face in the bare skin of his shoulder and try to stitch yourself back together somehow.

For the two years you’d been together, when you pictured your future, it was this–it was him. You’d loved Yoongi for as long as you’d known what love was. Probably longer. He’d been your best friend, your staunchest rival, your biggest supporter. You’d spent more nights than you’d care to admit sitting on one of the castle balconies and complaining to him about your brothers, and you’d listened as he’d lamented the rigidity of his father. Losing him, being forced to walk away, it feels a little like you’re losing a part of yourself. The part that feels safe, the part that feels loved, the part that could take on anything so long as he’s there with you.

He holds you close as you fall apart, the only thing keeping you from entirely shattering. He’s basically silent, and you can’t help but think that he must be so confused, which only serves to crush you more.

“I’m sorry,” you manage finally, wiping your tears.

“What’s wrong, jagi?” Yoongi asks softly. “You’re worrying me.”

You sigh. “I have been given an impossible choice.”

He hums sympathetically. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.” 

His confidence almost spirals you back off the edge you’ve barely clawed yourself away from. But instead of breaking again, you reach up to cup his face. In the silence, you study him, trying to memorize all of him–soft, round cheeks; button nose; dark, feline eyes. He’s handsome in a gentle sort of way. Skilled in swordplay, with a mind to match.

“Not this time, I don’t think.” Where to start? Because you should start. You owe him that, at least, after appearing at his door, bedding him, and then dissolving into tears almost immediately after. “That letter father got earlier? It came from the Ironhold. As it happens, our darling king is looking to find himself a wife.”

He blanches, a frown immediately replacing the concern on his face. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

For the briefest of moments, he deflates, his head sinking deep into his silk and feather pillow. But then his arms snake firmly around you and he pulls you impossibly closer. He kisses the top of your head before nuzzling into your hair. You feel him breathe in deeply and hold it for a moment before he slowly exhales.

“I wish there was a way to get out of this,” you mumble into his chest. “But even your father said-”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I love you,” you say desperately. You know he knows, but you need to say it. 

“We’ll get through it,” he says again. “Somehow.”

You don’t sleep. You’re pretty sure that Yoongi doesn’t either. You can’t bring yourself to miss a minute, so you lay there, skin on skin, listening to his breathing and watching the moon out the window. The night is slow, but not nearly slow enough, and eventually, the sky begins to lighten.

“I should go pack,” you mumble softly, snuggling into him more.

His arm tightens around you as he hums. “Want help?”

“You don’t have to.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I’m not ready to let you go just yet. And if that means I have to help you pack, then I help you pack.”

You sigh, resting your chin on his chest so that you can look at him. “I don’t even know how much I’m allowed to bring.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He sounds so confident, but looking at him, you can tell it’s a front. His eyes have lost the sparkle they normally have, and the smile he’s wearing doesn’t go beyond his lips.

You stall for a few more moments, but force yourself to get up. He helps you find your clothes and you dress quickly before sneaking out into the hall. It’s still early, almost no one should be up yet, but you have to pass both Seokjin and Namjoon’s rooms to get to your own, and Namjoon is known for keeping strange hours.

Thankfully, this is not the first time you’ve made this journey, and you know just how to move to avoid making noise. You manage to unlatch the door to your chambers with only the slightest of sounds, and you and Yoongi sneak in. He helps you light the wall sconces and a few candles, and as your room lights up, you sigh.

You suppose you should pack on the lighter side. The king’s letter hadn’t said… anything, really, about what awaits you in the Ironhold, but you suspect that whatever you bring won’t be good enough. 

Yoongi helps you fill a trunk with clothes. Or rather, he handles everything, barely letting you do any of it. He folds each garment carefully, like it’s made of glass, choosing his favorite garments like a sommelier chooses wine. You can’t read his expression, can’t tell what he’s thinking, but there’s a cloud over his eyes, and you know he’s lost in thought. 

You leave him to it, figure that maybe this is something he needs to do, and busy yourself with gathering other things you want to take. A few books. A figurine of a duck your father had bought for you for your birthday as a child. Your favorite blanket. A drawing that one of the artists in town had done of your family–your father, your step-mother, Seokjin, Namjoon, and you. There’s one of you and Yoongi, too, that you tuck into one of your more boring books.

You aren’t quite sure when it happens, but you look up, and suddenly, it’s light out. A knock at your door pulls you out of the trance of going through your belongings. Yoongi’s closer, and he reaches out to open it before you can even say anything.

It’s Seokjin.

He stands there, looking a little sheepish, clutching a burlap bag. You aren’t sure if he’s nervous because Yoongi opened the door, or if he’s nervous just being there in general. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Do you–am I interrupting something?”

You exchange a quick look with Yoongi, and he shakes his head. “I’ll be back soon, yeah?” he says to you. And when you nod, he leaves you and Seokjin alone.

For a few brief moments, it’s quiet. Seokjin wanders silently and mindlessly around your room, looking at your desk, a shelf, your bedside table. But then he sighs, and a pained look crosses his face.

“What have we done to get here?” His voice is quiet, tentative, like he doesn’t want to talk too loudly.

You shrug helplessly. “I wish I knew.”

“There’s one good thing to come of it, I suppose.” He sighs once again, and this time, it’s dramatic. “Now you’ll finally have a reason to be a royal pain in the ass.”

In any other situation, you may have laughed. The two of you aren’t strangers by any means, but you’ve always been closer with Namjoon. Seokjin has always been far more interested in the artisans in the forest town than what goes on in the castle. You wouldn’t begrudge him anything, but you also annoy the everloving hell out of each other. 

True siblings, your father had once proudly declared. You hadn’t always been quite as confident as he was, but the fact that Seokjin is here now… well, maybe you’re closer than you’d thought.

“I uh…” he starts awkwardly, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes before rubbing his neck. “Got you something to take with you.” He lifts up the bag, gesturing with it slightly before handing it to you.

Confused, you take it. The handle of the bag is rough, the burlap tightly woven for strength even though the contents aren’t particularly heavy. Looking in the bag, you pull out a box that’s about the width and length of a book. It’s made of blackwood, the inky black surface polished into glass. There’s a seam that splits it in half, and two golden hinges on the left side. The front of the box is engraved, a gilded thistle stands resolute against the darkness. You slide open the latch on the side and open it. The box is empty, but there’s enough room to store things.

“It’s very pretty,” you tell him, closing the box gently and slipping the latch back into place.

Gently, Seokjin takes the box out of your hands, and with both thumbs, pushes the leaves on either side of the thistle stem. There’s a quiet sound of sliding wood, and when he opens the box again, a panel inside has been moved, and suddenly, there’s more room. He closes the lid, presses the flower of the thistle, and the sliding happens again.

He pushes the box back into your hands, his eyes not leaving yours. You have questions, but the intensity of his gaze says enough.

“How?” you ask finally. You doubt he just had this lying around.

He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I asked Haejeon to put a rush on it.”

You nod. Haejeon is one of the artisans in the forest town outside the castle walls. He makes games and trinkets. Your father has hired him many times to carve and build small ornaments out of blackwood, and he’s old enough to be your uncle, but when you were kids, he’d given Seokjin a puzzle box to play with, and ever since, your step-brother has been practically stuck to the man’s hip. Over the years, as Seokjin has gotten more and more interested in the creators and builders and artists, Haejeon has taken him under his wing in a way, offering guidance and friendship outside of the castle. 

“Thank him for me. Tell him it’s beautiful.” You hope to God you won’t have reason to use the secret compartment.

A noise outside the door draws your attention, and for a brief moment, Seokjin stares at the dark wood. But then he nods. “Probably Yoongi,” he says lightly. But when he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll let you kids get back to it.”

But when he opens the door, it’s Namjoon that’s standing there. He’s still in his nightshirt, and a pair of warm, woolen pants hang a little crooked on his muscular legs.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up,” he says from the doorway, looking completely past Seokjin. You motion for him to enter, but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay long, I’m sure you still have plenty to do.”

“Namjoon,” you scold, barely any bite in your tone. Easily, he gives in, taking a few tentative steps into the room.

“I brought you this.” He holds out a book in your direction.

It’s bound in plain leather, and is neither particularly large nor particularly small. The pages are old and yellowed. The front cover is entirely non-descript, the only real identifying feature to the outside simply the word ‘Lin’ stamped on the spine.

You open it, and immediately you recognize it as one of the handful of tomes from Castle Blackwood’s library that details your family history. Its handwritten pages go back thousands of years, back to when Seinal Lin first settled the Westerlands.

“I thought that maybe you’d want it. To tell them about us.”

He doesn’t have to say who he means. If this turns out the way most royal weddings do, you aren’t sure when you’ll see your family again. These people who have been your life and your heart for over two decades will more than likely be strangers to any children you may have. This history that Namjoon has given you is more than just a book. It’s a reminder of who you are. It’s a lifeline.

Suddenly, you feel like you’re breaking apart again, but you fight it off, pulling Namjoon into a tight hug. He makes a noise of surprise but after a second, his arms tighten around you. You stand there for a moment, unwilling to pull away, and soon, you feel another body press against your side. Seokjin’s arms wrap around you both, and now you couldn’t pull away, even if you wanted to. 

As quick as it came, the moment passes.

“We should let you get back to it,” Namjoon says softly, a hand still on your arm.

They both nod solemnly, and then, just like that, you’re alone.

The silence is unbearable, the soft crackling of the wall sconces deafening as you’re left alone with your thoughts. Thanks to Yoongi’s earlier efforts, your things are packed, so there isn’t much left to do. You pull out your desk chair and sit, picking up your quill and twirling it between your thumb and forefinger. Thoughts swirl in your mind, and you pick up a piece of parchment.

Once you start writing, you can’t stop, and the words flow out of you as quick as you can write them down. You’re mid-word when there’s a knock at your door, and you hurry to finish and sand the ink.

“Come in,” you call, blowing across the page to get rid of the sand and excess ink.

You have the parchment folded by the time the door opens. Your suspicions are confirmed when a dark head of hair pokes in. Yoongi. He enters slowly, almost silently, and sits on the edge of your bed, watching curiously as you hold a dark green wax stick, melting it with the flame of a candle. You press your seal into the warm wax, removing it quickly before it can stick. The thistle stamp glistens in the candlelight, the wax still soft. You leave it to dry and turn your attention to Yoongi.

His gaze follows your every move, dark eyes soft with fondness. You pretend not to see the redness and puffiness that accompanies it. Silently, he reaches out, catching your hand in his own to tug you toward him. His arms hook around your legs, keeping you close.

“Father asked me to tell you they’re close,” he says softly, a pained look crossing his face briefly. “Word was sent from the first guard post.”

You hum and nod, running your hands through his hair. He’s changed his clothes, but his hair’s still a little tousled from your earlier romp. There’s still some time–the first guard post is at the bottom of the mountain, where the forest is still a thin stand of trees–but suddenly, your heart is in your throat. It hadn’t felt real, not really, but now… You push his hair back off his forehead once again and swallow thickly in an attempt to hold yourself together.

“I love you.” It just kind of bubbles to the surface, quiet but necessary. 

He squeezes the back of your thigh, a soft, “I love you more,” on his lips. After another moment, he releases you. “You should change,” he says quietly, standing.

He’s almost to the door when you stop him. “Stay.” You aren’t sure why you say it, but he freezes in place. “Please,” you add. And, after a brief moment of consideration, he nods.

You dress quickly, pulling on a pair of trousers and a new tunic, barely checking to make sure they match. Yoongi helps you with your corset, his deft fingers having no trouble with the laces this time round. When he’s done, you pull him close, wrap your arms around him tightly.

You are determined to not let go of him until you have to.

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning back away from you ever so slightly. Your hands stay around his waist, but he brings his hands between you to tug at the ring on his littlest finger. Carefully, he pulls your hand away and places the ring in your palm, closing your fingers around it.

“What-?”

“Take this,” he says, squeezing your fist.

You inspect the ring. It’s funny, you’ve seen it before–you’ve played with his hands countless times, looked at it while it was on his finger–but it’s like this is the first time you’re actually seeing it. It’s silver, the flat face of it etched with a shield, a sword standing at attention in its center. On either side of the ring’s face, thistle flowers bloom along the band. 

“Yoongi,” you protest. You don’t want to take his signet ring. It’s the crest of the Min family, the ring serves as a seal to press into wax. He needs it.

He insists. “Keep it. Don’t wear it if you don’t want to, but I want you to have it. To remember.”

“As if I could forget.”

Yoongi smiles at that, a soft, somber smile that curves his lips but doesn’t meet his eyes. 

The quiet that settles is interrupted rather rudely by the door opening. A head of dark hair and Yoongi’s sharp eyes peer in at you. It’s Jaesung.

“Lord John asked me to fetch you both,” he says, and you can sense the anger barely concealed in his voice. “They’ll be here soon.”

Yoongi nods, but you can feel him let out a sigh. 

“Shall I grab your trunk?” Jaesung asks, gesturing to the now full case behind you. It’s probably heavy, but you nod anyway. You’ve seen him lift heavier before, and you trust him to know his limits. You pick up Seokjin’s box and press the leaves, slipping Yoongi’s ring into the compartment before shutting it back up and stashing the whole thing in your trunk.

Yoongi trails behind you, his fingers grasped loosely in your own as you slowly and begrudgingly make your way through the castle. The wall sconces have been extinguished and the shutters have been thrown open, bathing the stone hallways in morning light. Instead of taking the back stairs you did last night–the ones which go past Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s chambers down to Yoongi’s–you follow the plush carpet down the hall to the grand stairs. They curve around the main hall, criss-crossing from front to back.

You pause at the first landing, just above the grand entrance. Yoongi stops almost immediately, his head falling to one side in confusion.

“Take this,” you say softly, handing him the letter from earlier. 

“But-”

“Take it,” you insist, pressing it into his chest. “Don’t read it now. Give it a day or two. Please.”

Your eyes meet his, and silently, you plead with him. For a moment, he stands firm, his grip on your wrist tight. But then he relents, shoulders sagging, and nods. “Fine,” he says, taking the letter from your grasp and stuffing it into his pocket.

The heavy blackwood main doors of the castle are at least double your height, and they stand wide-open now. Your father and step-mother are in the courtyard, you can see them out by the centuries-old blackwood tree that stands sentinel in front of the castle. You’d spent many days of your childhood climbing its thick boughs, throwing seeds down to pelt Namjoon as he sat in the shade and read. Usually, the courtyard is bustling with people–from the castle, from the forest town, visitors–but now, aside from your father and step-mother, it’s completely empty.

“Stop pacing, love,” your step-mother says. She sits in a chair just to the left of the sentinel tree. She must not be feeling as well today. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I fear it’s too late for that, Sara, my dear” your father mumbles. And when he looks up, he sees you and Yoongi approaching. “Ah.” He outstretches an arm, beckoning you forward.

When you’re close enough, your step-mother grabs your free hand, enveloping it in her own. Her hands are cold, and there’s no real strength to her grip. Yoongi stands close behind you, his chest practically touching your back as you hold the gaze of your step-mother. 

“Brave girl,” she says softly. 

“The towers sent word ahead of time. The envoy is in a hurry to get back to the Ironhold,” your father tells you. He’s stopped his pacing and now stands beside your step-mother’s chair. “We wanted to have time to say goodbye.”

You frown. Already, the king is not making a good impression on you. Between the sudden letter and the incoming envoy that feels more like an abduction than a transport, you’re certain that this is the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life. And yet, as you look back and forth between your father and step-mother, as you hold Yoongi’s hand, you know it’s probably also–unfortunately–the right one. 

Your father comes forward, his big hands cupping your cheeks. “You are smart,” he tells you, voice low. “You are strong. You are kind. Give ‘em hell.” He kisses your forehead and lets you go, turning almost immediately and walking toward the castle entrance to watch the road. You don’t miss the glisten in his eyes.

Your step-mother pats your hand. “I don’t think he will ever let this go. The Ironhold may say they’re doing this for the good of our two families, but…” She sighs. “I fear they’ve made an enemy out of the west.” She meets your gaze again, honeyed dark eyes big and sad. “Don’t let them dull you.” 

Carefully, she reaches up and unpins a brooch from the front of her dress. It’s beautiful–you’ve admired it since you were a kid. A mother-of-pearl thistle blossom inset into an oval of ebony blackwood. She stands, a little unsteadily at first, and you reach out to help her gain her balance. Without looking up, she pins the brooch to your tunic, right over your heart.

You hear the hoofbeats before you see the envoy, the clattering of a carriage and several horses enough to draw anyone’s attention. Jaesung arrives just in time; he and Namjoon place your trunk just under the tree beside your step-mother’s chair. Like a spectre, Seokjin appears to your left. They all huddle closer when the first horse appears at the gates.

It’s not really that large of a traveling party–two men on horseback, a carriage with its driver, and a supply wagon–but the sight of it has your stomach churning all the same. You’re glad you didn’t take time for breakfast, or you might actually be sick. Yoongi presses closer, your entwined hands hidden behind your back.

One of the riders dismounts–you assume the steward–and approaches your father. They shake hands, and you can see the man’s gaze flick to you as they talk. Yoongi squeezes your hand. After a moment, they come closer. Your father’s face is grave, almost ashen, as he gestures for you.

The whole exchange is silent. You dare not look at Yoongi, too afraid that if you do, you’ll falter or worse. But as you step forward, he refuses to let go of your hand. Only until you’re physically too far away does he loosen his grip, and as soon as his fingers are out of your grasp, you miss him. 

Your trunk gets moved to the carriage. The steward shakes your father’s hand again. Namjoon hugs you. Seokjin kisses your forehead. You’re passed around your father and step-mother and Jaesung. You refuse to look at Yoongi. And then it’s over. And you have nothing left to do but get in the carriage.   

The inside of the carriage looks lavish, with soft velvet covering the bench and luxurious curtains covering the windows. But when you actually get in, the bench is hard, and the fabric over the windows leaves the carriage dark and confining. It’s impossible to see out, but you do your best, pulling the fabric away from the window and shoving your face against the wood of  the wall. 

They stand there, everyone you hold close, clumped together. The carriage jolts forward, and even though they can’t see you, you wave. Yoongi is the only one that lifts his hand, and you hold his gaze until the carriage enters the forest town and you can no longer see him. 

Your heart hurts, and somewhere, deep inside your soul, you feel something breaking.

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your support means a whole lot, especially now when I'm low on energy and time. grad school is hell, but I wanted to post this to give us both some joy. please let me know your thoughts. I hope to finish this sometime this century, so please look forward to the next two parts!

[gimmethatagustd]

definitely today, satan | knj

After having a strange dream about your hot neighbor, you realize it might be time to finally make your move. Dreams are a sign from the universe, right?

○ Pairing: DILF/Neighbor!Namjoon x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Neighbors to lovers, smut, crack

○ 11 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Neighbor)

○ Word Count: 1,076

○ Warnings: It's corny and horribly written and I don't know what the fuck came over me when I wrote any of these fics, cunnilingus (Namjoon eating it from behind while MC wears a skirt, god bless), nipple play, vaginal fingering, I have a really bad sense humor, reference to NSYNC fanfic

○ Notes: This fic was written for @mapleleaf000 . It's actually part 3 of what has turned into a mini-series about the "Demon DMV" LOL. The links for the other parts are below. For those of you who haven't read "Not Today, Satan," you don't have to read parts 1 and 2 to understand this fic, but I highly recommend it, or else this won't be as funny. Also, yes, there is NSYNC fic on AO3. In case you were curious. 💀

○ Post Date: March 12, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Dangerous - TEN

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Honestly, sometimes your ability to pull hot men shocks you. It doesn’t only happen at night when you’re weirdly dreaming about your hot, daddy-dom neighbor being Satan, tempting you with his sexy biceps and boobs. You’re actually here, in his apartment, sitting on said hot, daddy-dom neighbor’s thick thighs as he sucks on your throat and squeezes your tits. 

Namjoon is even hotter in real life than he was as Satan in your dreams, though you can’t help but think about your dream while he’s pulling off your shirt to trail kisses across your collarbones and reaching around you to unclasp your bra. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Namjoon moans against your chest as he drags his tongue across one of your nipples, flicking it repeatedly until it’s hard and soaked with his spit. His tongue isn’t pointy and forked like it had been in your dream, but that’s fine!

“Not as sexy as you,” you insist with your fingers threaded through his hair. 

Namjoon’s hair is short and bleached with highlights, and you think he’s probably the only person in the twenty-first century who can pull off bleached tips without looking like Lance from NSYNC. 

Is there any NSYNC fanfiction on AO3? If there is, it’s probably Lance/Justin. 

Not to kink-shame anyone, but ew. 

You’re pulled from your distracting thoughts by Namjoon grabbing your ass and helping you grind against the bulge in his pants. He’s still wearing his slacks, having just come home from work. You were supposed to go on a dinner date since his daughter is staying with her mother over the weekend. 

As a respectful father (hot), Namjoon has avoided mixing his dating life with his family life. It’s what’s best for now since the two of you are still getting to know each other. Only recently did your dreams of Purgatory and Hell push you to ask Namjoon out. It makes sense that he wants to take things slow with introducing you into his daughter’s life. 

You’re definitely not taking things slow in other areas of your dating life, though. 

“Is it weird if I say that I dreamt about this?” you ask when Namjoon hooks his arms around your thighs and carries you out of the living room. His strength is impressive, even if his bedroom isn’t far from where you’d been. 

“Not at all. I’ve dreamt about you, too.” 

Namjoon seems shy when he confesses, but you suppose it actually is kind of weird, and the two of you are probably just weird together. Which is nice. Sexy or not, you wouldn’t be able to vibe with Namjoon if he couldn’t keep up with your weirdness. 

“Oh, did you?” you purr as Namjoon reaches under your miniskirt to pull your thong down your legs. 

“Mhm,” he hums against your neck when he hovers over you, slotting himself between your legs so he can grind his thigh against your exposed pussy. 

One of the buttons on his white work shirt catches on your nipple. The rough drag makes your body shiver with goosebumps. When you try to unbutton his shirt, he grabs your hand and pins it to the bed above your head. 

“Keep it on,” Namjoon whispers in your ear. 

His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is deep and scratchy. If you close your eyes, you can almost imagine something darker in his tone, something demonic. It’s so hot you feel your pussy throb and slick up even more. When Namjoon pulls away, there’s a dark spot on his pants from how wet you are. 

“Can I eat you out?” Namjoon’s request is more like a plea, a hopeful lilt to his voice when he speaks. He runs his palms up your thighs to push your miniskirt further up your waist to expose more of your body.

“You don’t even have to ask a question like that.” 

“From behind?” 

“Fuck, yeah, oh my god.” You throw your head back with a dramatic groan before rolling onto your stomach and transitioning to resting on your forearms and knees. “Please, I didn’t even get to the fucking in my dream about you, so I need this.” 

Squeezing your asscheeks, Namjoon pulls you apart and uses his leg to push your knees apart more to open you. 

“I definitely got to the fucking part in mine,” Namjoon says with a chuckle as he runs his thumb over your pussy, first gathering your arousal from where it leaks at your entrance and gliding it up to wet your clit even more. 

“What,” you swallow the drool you’re afraid might come out of you when Namjoon picks up the pace, “What was your dream like?” 

“I don’t know if I should tell you. It was weird.” 

He circles your clit, occasionally thumbing at it with gentle flicks at the tip that makes your legs shake. When you start kicking your foot and moaning louder, he finally brings his mouth down to where you throb for him. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan against Namjoon’s bed sheets. 

You’ve got your face pressed into the bed because you can’t keep your head up as he fucks his tongue in you while he rubs your clit with his slick fingers. He moans against your pussy when he switches positions so he’s fingering you while he laps at your clit. His movements are languid, which drives you even crazier than if he’d been fingerfucking you hard enough to make your ass jiggle.

“Good?” he murmurs with his lips slick and his fingers still massaging your walls.

“So good, god, your lips are so perfect, fuck,” you moan and push back against his face. “Tell me your dream. Was it like this?”

Namjoon kisses your clit before bringing his other hand to rub it while he still fingers you. Leaning back on his knees, Namjoon increases the speed of his movements as he admits, “You were the Devil, and I fucked you so good that you kept me as a pet.” 

“I WHAT?” 

You turn around to stare at Namjoon with wide eyes and an inability to say anything more as your orgasm rips a whiny moan out of you, legs shaking and threatening to collapse. Namjoon wraps his arm around your waist and keeps rubbing your clit until you wiggle away from him when you grow too sensitive. 

Namjoon wipes his messy fingers on your thigh and shrugs. 

“I told you it was a weird dream.”

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Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).