Request: fluff: Friend group travelling (wherever inspires you most! I’m thinking someplace like Hawai where they visit secret beaches and stuff! Site-seeing in the city could also be interesting!). Jimin and and OC know eachother through friends. OC is independent and not TOO into the whole adventuring deal but does it to enjoy some quality time with her friends. Jimin is flirty and playful and makes the trip all the more interesting for her. (I don’t know how you want to set it up but maybe two friends are dating and they invite their two seperate friend groups on this trip to meet. Or maybe it’s a wedding and OC is a bridesmaid? Anything works honestly!) - @silviasgotyourback
Description: You’re not too keen on…you know…risk-taking. In fact, it scares you to your core. But when your close friend Kim Namjoon gets in your head, you agree to a crazy trip to Fiji with him and his pals. But what happens when one of those pals – specifically Park Jimin – sweeps you off your feet not only figuratively, but literally?
A/N: Wow what a long break I’ve taken haha! But I’m back (kinda) to post some one shots (slowly)! I’ve been working really hard on my graduate school writing sample and auto statements, and I’ve just started my senior year of college AND started a new job so I’ve been incredibly busy! I apologize nonetheless for my absence. It’s felt horrible being away. Very guilty lol. Anyway, thank you my dear for requesting and for being so so so SO patient with me. I hope you like the result!
Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/nirvana_namu. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances.
- Mercury
You’re not sure why you agreed to this.
Standing at the tippy top of a mountain, looking out over the entire surf as it roils in the golden island sun, you watch your best friend get strapped into a harness with a laugh that echoes through the humid air. His gaze is focused downward, along the slope of treetops leading to the water. A zipline. A really steep, really fast one. One of the longest in the world! Namjoon had proclaimed with no small measure of wonder in his round eyes before you’d boarded the plane side by side only a day prior. If you weren’t so scared, you’d want to paint it.
You really don’t know why you agreed to do any of this.
The vested employee adjusts the straps secured around Namjoon’s hips, tugs them once or twice — not nearly enough by your standards — and mumbles something unintelligible into the receiver of a walkie-talkie. Enveloped in greenery, Namjoon pauses to turn and look at you and, upon snagging your eyes, offers a big, stupid, dimpled grin. He waves one hand over his head at you as you wait to be loaded into the next harness. And it looks like his eyes are squinted against the sun, but really they’re squinted from the sheer force of his joy. A joy too big to be contained in a smile alone.
That’s exactly why, you think to yourself with a grimace as you shamble forward along the worn footpath, second-to-last in line, arms crossed over your torso as if they can protect you from whatever fresh hell Namjoon’s planned out.
The employee pats Namjoon’s bare shoulder before releasing him and sending him speeding down the swaying cable with a scream so loud it pierces your ears. His body falls out of sight for a frozen millisecond before the cable gives a mighty bounce and his head reappears, bobbing up and down as he slides toward the bottom. You wince, more out of fear than discomfort, and pause to peek over the edge of the loading platform, following the line of the cable all the way to the bottom. Your heart races as your eyes trace the dense tree line, seemingly endless, and the sheer drop that had claimed Namjoon just seconds before.
And that’s when, as you sweep your twitching gaze out behind you, you lock eyes with Park Jimin. Standing behind you, the very last of the group to depart down the cliffside, his lips are quirked into a smirk that reads cocky and his brows are raised, unyielding eyes stuck on you like tree sap. Of all people to be stuck with on the top of a mountain…
Your face goes hot and your spine stiffens by a few degrees. You stare back at him, trying to discern any measure of fear in his smiling expression, his half-exposed teeth, his rosy cheeks, his teasing brown eyes. But instead all you see is, as usual, a perfect facade of composure.
Well, that and a sinfully handsome face.
He saunters up beside you, scans you from head to toe, and hums a little. “Nervous?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.
You clear your throat, fan yourself with your hand as a futile defense against the jungle heat, and nod your head once. “Mm.”
Upon hearing your response, Jimin’s demeanor shifts a little. He uncrosses his arms and his smirk slips, brows raising. He leans closer to examine your face and you avert your gaze, heart hammering. “Whoa, you’re actually spooked, huh,” he remarks before glancing around the platform. “Shit, I don’t think the guide’s gonna let you turn back now.”
You’d expected him to make fun of you, perhaps laugh at your weak constitution. But this…
This is new.
Though well-meaning, Jimin’s words serve only to set your palms sweating and your heart racing faster. Your throat feels a little funny, tight like asthma. You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I-It’s fine,” you mumble, sliding past him as the employee beckons you forward with a lazy wave. “I’ll just…do it.”
Jimin hangs close behind you as the employee begins strapping you in, not sparing even a single word for you. “Hey, uh, my friend’s a little nervous,” Jimin says lowly to the young man working on hooking the harness around your hip. He glances up to meet your eyes before looking toward Jimin. “Any way you can, like, go gentle or something?” Jimin offers a convincing smile, the kind of grin that could get anyone to do anything.
The employee surprises you by releasing a puffy laugh and straightening to his full height, pausing to pat the dust off the backs of his legs. He chuckles and pats your back. “I can’t control the cable,” he says, then pauses for a moment to think. “But…,” he continues as Jimin turns pleading eyes his way, “if you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.”
You swallow hard and inhale sharply through your nose. “Alright,” you say, but his words have fled from your brain as soon as they’d been uttered. Your voice is shaky. Almost as shaky as your hands as you raise them to grip the straps of your harness.
Have you always had such a strong grip?
Your brain goes a little fuzzy, looking out over the precipice on which you stand, unsteady feet and rushing pulse. It’s dizzying. Like the world is spinning, but you’re not spinning with it. Or perhaps you’re spinning and it’s the world that’s gone still. Either way, the stretch of trees extending far beyond the tips of your hiking boots looks like it’s swaying on an axis, and each blink tilts the view some different way. You wonder if you’re breathing enough, or maybe too much, because your head is spinning. Like when you stand up too quickly after sitting for a while. You wonder if you’ll pass out before you reach the bottom.
If you reach the bottom.
Jesus, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of this stupid cable snapping. It doesn’t look too stable, upon closer inspection. Bouncing in the breeze. And as the employee finishes strapping you in, you pause for a moment to move your legs about and find, to your horror, that the straps are slightly loose.
Oh God.
You’re gonna throw up.
“Hey,” says a soft voice from beside you.
You feel a warm hand slide along the skin of your upper back, resting to cup your shoulder. Slowly, you turn your toward Jimin, standing with one arm wrapped around you and the other braced on his own knee so he can level his eyes with yours. He’s smiling a little. A different one this time, a soft one. The wind blows his dark hair from his eyes and carries the scent of his cologne. Somehow, you feel yourself relax a little against his side.
“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” he asks gently, and this is an entirely new Park Jimin to you. A tender young man with kind eyes. He smiles again and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m right behind you.”
And for some reason, that comforts you. You don’t have time to dissect it however, as the employee takes up your other side and raises his brows, asking silently if you’re ready to go. Of course, you aren’t. How can you be? But again, Jimin squeezes your shoulder and seizes your attention with another smile, this one turning his eyes to crescents as he nods his head.
“Um…yeah,” you say, taking a moment to focus on your breath.
“Remember,” says Jimin as he steps away from you. “Count to ten, okay?”
“Okay,” you say, shutting your eyes.
One.
You’re gonna do it.
Two.
On ten, you’re just gonna go.
Three.
It’ll be fine.
Four.
Joon did it, and he’s fine.
Five.
And Tae before him, and that guy Jimin brought.
Six.
Nobody’s died yet.
Seven.
You can do it too.
Eight.
And even if I’m scared, at least you’re not alone up here.
Nine.
Jimin’s right behind you.
Ten.
Your scream rips through the valley below.
And, seconds later, so does your unfettered laughter.
You met Park Jimin on the worst day of your life a month ago. Freshly laid off from your job as a financial analyst — a job which Namjoon disliked from the start —, and disappointed by a string of bad dates after a catastrophic breakup, you’d agreed to meet up with a few college friends for a drink at your local stomping ground. You’d found Jimin sitting in the middle of a smoky bar with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other. Gross, was all you’d thought in passing. You’d paid him little mind, too busy wallowing in your own self pity to think too hard about any one thing, but it seemed he was incessant on grabbing your attention by any means necessary.
You’d sidled up to the bar, awaiting Namjoon’s I’m here text, and had only just ordered your drink when the strange young man with the unusually bright smile took up the space beside you. Now alone, he offered you a grin and his hand for you to shake. For a few seconds, you only stared at his outstretched palm. At the lines cutting across it. What was that long line called? The life line?
Eventually, however, you realized he wasn’t going anywhere, planted firmly in the wobbly barstool to your right, and you relented with a handshake. But that wasn’t what this stranger was after. He yanked you just a little once your hands connected.
“Hey, honey!” he said as he pulled you in toward his chest, sweeping you up in a tight, firm hug that knocked the wind from your lungs.
You were neither playful enough nor drunk enough to reciprocate and instead sat there stiffly, arms pressed against your sides as the stranger with the cute face hugged you close. Over his shoulder, you locked eyes with the girl who’d previously ornamented his left arm, watching you keenly, and it didn’t take you long to understand what was going on.
“Dodging an ex?” you whispered without moving your lips too much.
You felt a wave of shivers trace up your spine and it only took you a few seconds to realize why. It was just the sort of thing you imagined Hanseul doing if he ever bumped into you…
He chuckled. “Two, actually,” he responded as the young man he’d been entertaining also lifted his eyes from his drink to give you a once-over.
You sighed. “You’d better be buying my drink,” was all you said as the two of you broke away.
He’d laughed — that melodic sort of laugh that made you feel a little floaty — and rubbed your shoulder with a grin. “I’ll buy you twenty,” he joked, sliding the bartender a bill as he returned with your cocktail.
“So how’d you manage to get caught up with two exes at once?” you asked, nursing your glass.
He rubbed his jaw and shook his head, smiling at the bar table before him. “They were friends to begin with,” he said. And when you said nothing, only recoiled slightly, he met your eyes with a bright laugh. “C’mon don’t give me that look!”
You cleared your throat, turned away, and worked your straw between your teeth. “I dunno, sounds like maybe you brought it on yourself then,” you said, taking a healthy sip.
The stranger laughed again — more like a disbelieving scoff — and adjusted one of the several rings on his slender fingers. “Well I didn’t ask the two of them to come out tonight,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, neither of them looked unhappy to see me.”
“Ugh,” you mumbled, eyeing him sidelong as he chuckled.
He smirked and leaned across the bar toward you. “What?” he asked, and something about the heavy-lidded look he gave you, the simmering something in his eyes, made your pulse quicken. He rested his cheek in his hand and cocked his head to the side, now close enough to smell a whiff of his cologne. “You think I’m a bad guy?”
You swallowed hard before downing the rest of your drink and slamming the glass back on the bar. You waved the bartender over and pointed to the empty glass. Wordlessly, he began fixing you a replacement. You peeked back at the guy to find him smiling at you, musing perhaps, with the strangest mix of curiosity and pity in his expression.
You were definitely going to need another drink.
“Do good guys usually do stuff like that?” you asked, watching the bartender as he shook your drink around his metal tumbler.
He chuckled. “Can goodness be quantified by things like who we date?” he asked.
You stiffened. “Not by who you date,” you continued, shaking your head as memories of your own ex resurfaced. “But who you hurt, sure.”
He rolled his eyes, swiveling in his barstool to look at you head on. “Why’s it my fault who gets hurt?” he asked.
You cocked a brow. “You…can’t be serious…” But from the expression he wore you were certain that he was indeed quite serious.
He shrugged. “It’s not my intention to hurt someone, so why do I have to take responsibility if they get hurt?” he asked, then smirked and gave your thigh a nudge with his knee. “The way I see it, if you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.”
“That’s gross,” you said, inching away. You were inclined to simply leave, abandon this conversation and the bar at large and call it a night. But the bartender wasn’t finished with your drink and you weren’t about to piss him off. Not on a day like today. “If you’re dating someone, you’re committing to them.”
“What about polyamorous people?” he countered with a smug grin.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not talking about polyamorous people. I’m talking about monogamy.”
“But why does everyone expect monogamy?” asked Jimin, tossing his hands up in the air with a breathy laugh. “Anyway, I always make it clear from the start that I’m not the kind of person who wants to be…well, you know…,” he started, then furrowed his brow and waved his hand. “Like, in a relationship.”
You sighed, nodded your thanks to the bartender as he slid you your drink, and watched as Jimin again offered cash in return. “And that’s fine, but you can’t expect someone to stick around and be okay with that.” You rubbed your temples as memories swirled together. “Be okay with half of you.”
If you really loved me, you’d understand that I could have any person in the world and you’d still be my number one!
Scumbag.
This gave him pause and, slowly, he shifted his eyes your way once more, scanning you. “Half of me?”
You nodded and downed a gulp of your drink with a wince. “Giving half is fine if the other person is giving half too. If you both only expect half,” you began, then ran your hands along your neck. Your skin was feverish, alcohol making your head light. “But if one person wants more, it’s not fair to string them along.”
He stared at you gravely, eyes hard and jaw set, and furrowed his brow. “That’s too old-school,” he said.
You huffed and crossed your arms. “It’s not old-school!” you said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s about respecting the other person enough to let them go when you realize you can’t be what they need.”
He pouted a little and rolled his eyes. “You sound ancient,” he said, then paused to give you a knowing smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he began, scooting closer with a conspiratorial look. “You were scorned by your ex. Like…I dunno, like they cheated or something. Broke your heart, ruined your trust, blah, blah, blah. And now you’ve got this vendetta or something because you got hurt.” He grinned and wiggled his brows.
You stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at him. “I…,” you began.
He laughed from his gut and nodded. “Ah, nailed it, didn’t I?” he asked.
There was a cruel edge to his teasing, an ill-intentioned bite that felt like it was made to injure. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you knew you felt it in that hazy bar, surrounded by throngs of people gathered here and there, enveloped in smoke and conversation. But like a heat-seeking missile, it seemed his words were engineered to uncover the softest parts of you and destroy them.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but your eyes welled with tears and your throat constricted. You stared at him, this stranger who had pegged you without err, and felt the weight of your frustrations pressing down on the tops of your shoulders like sandbags. And as he perceived the shift in your expression, his own face changed from a cold sort of scrutiny to a round-eyed concern that washed away all evidence of his previous behavior.
“Oh shit,” he said, standing up and blocking your face from view. You felt a few hot tears spilling over and were quick to wipe them, but the humiliation was there on display whether you cried or not.
He’d gotten you.
Luckily for you, Namjoon’s timing had been particularly impeccable that day and he’d barreled into the bar with a lopsided grin and clapped both you and the stranger on the backs, Taehyung and Yoongi sauntering behind him. You’d startled a bit, jumping slightly at his approach, but once again luckily — or perhaps unluckily — Namjoon seemed to have little regard for the poor mood he’d stepped into and didn’t seem to notice your glassy eyes as you buried your nose in your drink.
“Well jeez, look at you two already getting acquainted!” Namjoon exclaimed with a big laugh.
You paused your sipping for a moment to slide only your eyes up toward your friend. “Huh?”
He blinked down at you, one hand still clamped onto the stranger’s shoulder, and raised his brows. “Didn’t I tell you I was inviting some work friends?”
You spat your drink, sending droplets of sweet alcohol splattering across the bar. Quick to right yourself, you faced Namjoon properly and, sputtering, replied, “Him?”
Namjoon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t introduce yourselves,” he said, adding theatrics to his heavy sigh. “This is Park Jimin. That choreographer I’ve been telling you about? He’s coming with us to Fiji.”
Still coughing up the remains of your rum and Coke, you pat your chest. This was the kind-hearted dance major wunderkind who dazzled everyone at Namjoon’s entertainment company? This was the kid who, at the age of twenty-four, had more accolades than both his predecessors combined? This was the guy who befriended all the trainees and brought them sports drinks during long days of practice?
This was the guy you were going to spend two weeks with on an island in the middle of the Pacific?
Namjoon, standing between the two of you, moved to taste your drink and as he leaned forward you locked eyes with the acclaimed young choreographer over the plane of his back. Park Jimin stared at you with wide eyes and lips parted as if to speak. But even after Namjoon had straightened up and begun complaining about your drink order, Park Jimin, still with mouth agape, said nothing.
And so, as you go ripping through the jungle on a wobbling cable, screaming and laughing and crying just a little, you wonder how exactly that very same Park Jimin is the one who comforted you into taking this leap of faith. Below your dangling feet is a patchwork of different greens, all bleeding into a motion blur as your body is propelled down toward the bottom platform. As you slide along, you can just see Namjoon’s figure, reduced to a small silhouette amongst the trees, as he stands waving like mad at the edge of the platform. Laughing, you shoot both hands above your head and wave them around, causing you to sway on the cable. Startled, you quickly return your hands to gripping the straps near your chest.
You feel like a bullet whizzing through humid air and then, all at once, friction takes hold once more and you seize, eyes squeezing shut from the whiplash, head throbbing just a little, suspended over the platform. You are greeted by a chorus of applause and hollers of encouragement as the employee begins the process of disconnecting you from your harness and, as your feet land stiffly on the concrete slab, you lift wild eyes to meet Namjoon’s. You find him still with that grin plastered across his face, hair windswept, shirt askew.
“Wow!” is all you can say as the group laughs.
Namjoon smiles and claps your shoulder. “Right?” he asks and you can only nod and turn your eyes back up toward the cliff from which you’d descended.
Now far too distant to discern amongst the foliage, the loading platform sits somewhere lost in green. And, without meaning to, your mind wanders back to Park Jimin and you wonder idly if he’s counting to ten.
Sunset drenches the island as you lounge on the warm sand, leaning back on your elbows with eyes half-shut as you gaze out at the glittering ocean touching the horizon line. The sky is darkening by degrees, with vibrant reds and oranges spreading like watercolor into the navy blue edges. And for a blissful moment, you’re alone with it. Alone with the profound. And you’re not thinking about the new job you’d taken, or the text messages Hanseul left you this morning, or the bills you know you’ve got to pay soon. You’re not thinking about anything.
It’s beautiful.
Of course, it’d be more beautiful with a pina colada, but you don’t let your mind linger there too long. After all, Namjoon said this trip was supposed to be about adventure and ‘finding yourself’. You aren’t sure how much of yourself you can really find at the bottom of a fruity drink.
Namjoon invited you on this trip a year ago. He’d done it in typical Namjoon fashion: calling you up at two in the morning and rambling incoherently for a while before eventually getting to the point. You’d become so used to his pipe dreams that you’d half expected this plan to fall through like the others. The second the words left his lips, you’d rolled your eyes.
“What I’m saying is,” he began, breathless over the phone, as you push yourself up onto your bottom, bed sinking beneath you, “let’s go to Fiji.”
“Joon…,” you groaned. “Please, I have work tomorrow-,”
“Listen, fuck your job,” he said and you could practically see him waving his hands like a man gone mad. “This is important. Like…might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together, you know?”
“Where is this even coming from?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You glanced out your window and saw the city painted black, pinpricks of yellow office building lights.
He sighed. “I was looking up tropical music for this new song I’m working on for the trainees and I stumbled upon this incredible video about Fiji.”
“Like a generic white girl vlog?” you asked with a laugh, but Namjoon seemed deathly serious as he remained silent. You paused a moment. “Wait, you’re like…for real with this, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.” He was quiet. “I just…I dunno…I guess, while we’re still young enough to do it, I wanna experience something incredible. While we still can. While things are still like this.”
“What do you mean?” You raised a hand to open your window, let in some cool night air, but as you jammed your hand along the pane, the thing only rattled dumbly in response. You huffed, focused.
“I mean life is transient and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “Who knows who we’ll be tomorrow, you know? Who knows how long these moments will last?”
You stilled for a moment, staring out your closed window, hand still poised to force it open. You glanced over your shoulder at your tiny apartment — clothes strewn over every piece of furniture, easel gathering dust in the corner of your living room, unused for the better part of a year, paintings still unhung propped against walls on the floor — and couldn’t help but sigh. As silver moonlight filtered in through your curtains, you felt an unfamiliar tug in your chest. A longing that didn’t make sense.
You had the job, the boyfriend, the social life…
You had it all.
But why did Namjoon’s words make you feel so hollow?
And before you even realized what you were doing, you replied, “How much is it gonna cost?”
“What’re you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from beside you.
Startled, you scramble slightly, sending a spray of sand flying through the air. You sputter a little, having inhaled too quickly for your lungs to handle, and squint against the golden sun. But as you settle enough to face the person beside you, you’re surprised to see it’s Jimin. Sunset drenches the expanse of shoreline, catches in the ends of his black hair, outlines the side of his rosy cheek as he gives you an easy smile.
You raise your brows. “Hm?”
He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck, and shrugs as he digs the heels of his hands into the sand, leans back on them. “Just…looked pensive.”
“Pensive…,” you repeat, mulling it over. You purse your lips. “I guess just…thinking about this trip.”
“What about it?”
“Just…why I even bothered coming,” you begin, then chuckled and eyed him sidelong. “You saw how I was today. The whole…adventure thing isn’t really my scene.”
He smiles, revealing on closer inspection one charming crooked tooth, and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? You looked like you were having the time of your life!” he says, nudging you with his elbow.
You smile at your knees, now pulled toward your chest, and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, but you know I was a mess.”
He pouts a little. “You weren’t.”
Glancing his way, you find him with furrowed brows staring distantly at the ocean. “Mm…,” you mumble in response.
He sighs. “You were scared,” he begins, then shrugs. “But you did it anyway. What’s so bad about that?”
You sense that he’s perhaps talking about something else while talking about you. Like he’s saying two things at once. But you don’t bother prying. Instead, you simply sigh and join him staring at the surf.
“It’s beautiful, huh?” you remark as the two of you sit side by side. And there’s a gentle sort of quiet between you, one you never expected to share with someone like Jimin.
But somehow, here he is. And looking at him as he watches the waves splash forward and recede, you can’t help but feel a little guilty for your attitude towards him. Guilty for the dread you’d felt as you boarded the plane behind him. Guilty for the scowl you’d worn as he walked beside you on the trail up to the zipline today. Guilty for the complaints you’d aired to Namjoon about him.
“Yeah,” he says with a pleasant, lazy smile.
Birdsongs welcome you to the fresh island morning. Lazily, you roll onto your side and peel your eyes open, straining against the sunlight pouring in through your ocean-facing windows. You yawn, pushing yourself up onto your bottom to stretch sore arms above your head. You twist your torso this way and that, crack your knuckles, point your toes as you extend your legs before you. The room is filled with bright morning light, all hardwood floors and tapestries on the walls. You glance around your bedroom – one of eight private rooms in this massive Airbnb – and realize with a start that this is the first morning in years that you haven’t immediately grabbed for your phone to check for work emails.
You expect, perhaps, to be unnerved by this. This lack of structure, lack of organization.
But, perhaps more unsettlingly, you are…
Surprisingly calm.
You shake your head and pad on bare feet into the bathroom beside your room. As you brush your teeth, you lock sleepy eyes with your reflection and can’t help but crack a little smile. For the first time in a long time, you look like you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.
You emerge in the living room a few moments later to find Taehyung – Namjoon’s stylist friend – and Seokjin – Namjoon’s actor friend – still sleeping on the couch, the TV still droning on as they’d likely forgotten to turn it off. And, standing in the kitchen by himself nursing a cup of coffee and a calm smile, is Namjoon. He’s caught a bit of a tan, glowing in the gentle sunlight, and his eyes are warm and fond as he looks out across the living room at his friends.
As quietly as you can manage, you maneuver around the sleeping boys and take a place beside Namjoon, resting a hip against the marble counter. “Morning,” he says softly.
You nod once. “Morning,” you repeat, and hold your hand out for his mug of coffee, wiggling your eager fingers. He chuckles and relents without much fight, offering the handle to you carefully. You take a warm, welcome sip and sigh. “How’d you sleep?” you ask.
He hums a little and adjusts the sleeve of his loose tee. “So tired I didn’t even dream,” he says with a laugh.
Smiling you reply, “Me either.”
He eyes you with a knowing smile and squints a little. Like he’s teasing you. “You like it here, don’t you?” he asks.
You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a healthy shove. He laughs in response, but says nothing more as you sweep your gaze out toward the wall of windows leading down to the beach. It’s immaculate in the morning time. Not a single silhouette dots the shoreline, only fishing boats just beyond the surf. Tourists are still asleep, you reckon, and you feel a little proud to not be one of them sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the day. You can see faint traces of clouds ringing the horizon, and the pastel yellows of sunrise giving way to the azure blue sky.
“It’s…really nice,” you admit with a nod, sipping the coffee once more. And, without meaning to, you think of Jimin yesterday. His hand on your shoulder, his comforting words reminding you to ground yourself before you floated away. “Yeah…,” you add, concealing an unintended smile.
Namjoon, however, has always been the smarter one out of the two of you and, predictably, he catches this shift in your expression and turns to you head on with raised brows. “Whoa!” he remarks with a grin. He points to your face with his index finger. “Look at that!”
You swat his hand away with a laugh and roll your eyes. “Lay off, alright? I’m having a good time. Isn’t that the whole point?”
He chuckles and sighs as he rests once more beside you. Gently, he lifts a hand to softly pat the top of your head. You’re certain your shock registers plainly on your face as he pats again. “I’m proud of you,” he says.
And in the simplest of phrases, he’s managed to pluck something profound from inside of you. You don’t need to ask to know precisely what he means.
Why does it make you want to cry?
“Morning,” says a quiet voice from behind Namjoon and, leaning slightly so you can see around your friend’s broad chest, you notice Jimin standing there and can’t help but smile.
He glances between Namjoon and you for a few seconds, brows lifted as if in question, before Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly excuses himself, snatching his coffee on his way back into the living room where he begins rallying the boys awake.
You sigh, running a finger along the countertop’s perfect edge. “What’s on the agenda for today?” asks Jimin as he settles beside you.
You pause to think. “Um…,” you begin, tapping your lips with your fingers. “I think…,” you continue, musing as you begin to work your lower lip between your index finger and thumb. “Something about ATVs.”
But before you’ve even finished your sentence, Jimin has seized your hand in his and is now standing so close you can smell the scent of his detergent wafting up from his pajama shirt. He stares down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smirk, gaze flashing around your face before landing on your lips as he pulls both your hands down toward your shoulder. Your heart begins to race, eyes wide, skin hot where his fingers touch yours, and you swallow hard as he chuckles a few times, his breath fanning out across your warm face.
“Sorry,” he says, voice low and breathy. “It was distracting.” He then drops your hand and swivels on his heel, back toward the hallway from which he’d come. He pauses, however, to shoot you a wink over his shoulder. “Hard to focus when you do that,” he says, tapping his own plump lower lip with his fingertip before offering a wave and meandering down the hall.
And you stand there dumb, heart pounding so loud you can’t hear the crashing waves just outside the window.
You were shocked when you found out Hanseul had been messing around behind your back. Gutted, really. If it hadn’t been for Hanseul leaving his Instagram logged on to your phone, you’d probably never have found out to begin with. He’d always been that sort of guy, though.
Reckless.
And how very cliche, you’d thought as you read through months of exchanged messages, that he’d exchanged you like a used car for a newer model once he’d gotten tired of you. You dragged your finger almost lazily across the screen, brows raised as you rested on your couch, reruns of The Office blending into background noise. And where perhaps you’d expected hurt and resentment, you found only a grim acceptance.
Of course, you thought to yourself with a strange chuckle as you read the most recent message. A sappy sort of love IM that made your stomach churn. Riddled with sentimentality and grand platitudes, the messages reminded you of the ones you’d exchanged with Hanseul in the beginning. The ones that made you hopeful. Of course.
Somewhere amongst that grim acceptance, however, was something you didn’t expect. Something primal. A sort of fear that had no name.
Fear, perhaps, of the implications.
Fear of all the things that would have to change, all the comforts you’d known for years chipping away like old paint left on the wall too long.
And so, like a house of cards, your world shook and crumbled mightily down to its very foundation.
You’re slack-jawed as you stare at the row of ATVs standing equidistant before you. Eight identical machines pointed down the rolling hills behind you. An instructor standing with a grin and hands on her hips as she watches you scan the locomotives with your eyes wide and round. Beside you is Namjoon, smiling too broadly for his face to accommodate, with Seokjin and Taehyung drowsily fighting yawns. Jimin stands on your other side, arms crossed as he smirks at the ATVs like he’s done it all and seen it all before. His friend Jungkook is practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hoseok – another choreographer from the company – stands whispering in low tones with Yoongi, the young PD Namjoon never stops talking about.
The imposing green trees sway in the breeze around you: all potential threats as your group nears the line of ATVs. You wonder just how long you can manage on one of the things before hitting one of those tall waving trees. Anxiously, you glance over your shoulder at the hills extending as far as you can see. More possibilities for horrific injury.
As you tromp through the yielding sand underfoot, you feel someone step closer to you and you don’t need to lift your eyes from your boots to know who it is.
“You know, if you’re scared-,” Namjoon begins, but you silence him with a look, gaze severe.
He raises his hands in surrender before chuckling and patting your shoulder. He says nothing more as he swerves around you to hook his elbow around Taehyung’s neck. The two, laughing, continue toward the row of ATVs. Taking a moment to manage your breath, you press your palm against the rubber handle. You shut your eyes.
One.
You’re getting on this fucking ATV.
Two.
You’ve come this far, you can’t chicken out now.
Three.
You always chicken out.
Four.
When was the last time you did something that scared you this much?
Five.
Well…yesterday.
Six.
Before that though.
Seven.
When was the last time you took a risk?
Eight.
When was the last time you did something you wanted to do?
Nine.
Something you really wanted…
Ten.
You take a long inhale, nod once, and swing your leg over the side of the ATV. With both shaking hands gripping the handlebars, you glance to the side to see everyone else has mounted their vehicles, except for one. Jimin stands at the end of the line, talking with the guide too quietly to hear, but the way he’s waving his hands makes it seem like there’s a problem. The guide glances around, brows knit, before shrugging his shoulders and cupping a hand around the side of his mouth to shout.
“Hey guys! Looks like we’re one ATV short! Someone’s gonna have to share!” he calls, and grumbles resound around the group.
Beside you, Namjoon and Taehyung complain about having to share, both clearly not too keen on offering Jimin a spot on their ATV. You briefly feel bad for him, standing on the edge without a place to go to. You wonder if he feels left out, or if perhaps he’s considering staying back so the guide can show you the way. Without meaning to, you turn your head and lock eyes with Jimin and the instant you to you wish you hadn’t. Because now his eyes have lit up and his face is splitting in a small, hopeful smile.
And you know you’re cooked.
With a sigh, you raise your hand and wave it like mad, beckoning Jimin over. After all that, the breathing exercises and everything, after finding your courage, here you are handing over the reins.
“You can ride with me,” you say with a sigh as Jimin emerges at your side, smiling bright.
“Thank you,” he says with a laugh before hoisting himself up behind you.
“Oh!” you exclaim as Jimin rests his hands on his knees, right beside your thighs. He leans around your side and eyes you with wide brows. “I figured you’d wanna drive…,” you say, face going hot.
He blinks at you for a moment longer than normal before splitting into a grin and nudging your hip with his knee. “Well why would I do that?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “You looked really determined.”
Just like that, he understands exactly how you feel.
Startled, you turn to face him halfway, twisting your torso awkwardly as you lock eyes. He’s still smiling, still bright. The apples of his cheeks are redder than yesterday, and the bridge of his nose. A sunburn. He looks peaceful. As if he trusts you to drive this massive machine. As if it’s not even a thought that’s crossed his mind.
As if he never even considered taking this ATV from you.
“You guys ready?” shouts the guide with a hoot.
The boys around you holler their responses but you stay silent, still just staring at Jimin as he shields his face from the sun with one hand, still smiling, still peaceful.
You grip the handlebars and kick the ATV to life.
You first met Namjoon when you were in high school. He was a grade above you, so you’d never had reason to speak with him. Aside from passing him in the halls every now and again, you didn’t really interact with him at all. But things changed when he approached you after class as you finished cleaning off the blackboards. You’d stayed behind not because you wanted to, but because your classmate had pawned their classroom duties on you after a miserable game of Gin Rummy at lunch. You hadn’t protested much once the responsibility had fallen on your shoulders.
Another excuse to avoid going home.
Bony knuckles rapped against the blackboard beside your head and you jumped out of your skin, releasing a scream several octaves higher than you anticipated. But as the moment of panic passed, you realized with a start that the one who’d roused your attention was indeed upperclassman Kim Namjoon. And there he stood with a small dimpled smile and gentle eyes scanning you. You weren’t sure what he was looking for when he looked at you, but the way he tilted his head to the side made you think that perhaps he’d found it.
“Hey,” he said, face outlined by the last golden rays of autumn daylight.
You swallowed hard and took half a step back toward the podium. “Uh…hi…?”
“This yours?” he asked, dangling a sketchbook before you with one hand.
It took you several moments of squinting at the Strathmore sketchbook to realize that, in fact, it was yours. Your name was right there in the right corner where you’d scribbled it a month ago. And there was the tear in the cover from when your mother had tried to rip the thing from your hands – unsuccessfully.
A rush of fear swelled through you and you snatched the pad from his outstretched hands like you were a prisoner and he was offering you food. Scared he’d rescind his offer if given even a moment to think it over. And as you clutched the thing to your chest, you scanned him with narrowed eyes.
“Where did you get this?” you asked. You were certain you had kept it safely in your bookbag since lunch. But glancing at the bookbag again, you found it surprisingly empty.
Namjoon raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, then chuckled with a shrug. “What kind of thief would return the thing they stole anyway?”
You paused for a moment, brows furrowed, before sighing and nodding. “I guess that’s true,” you admitted before gently guiding the sketchbook back into the mouth of your backpack. “Um…,” you hedged as you turned back to the guy. You held out your hand to him and he rolled up the long sleeve of his uniform cardigan to take it in his own. “Thanks,” you finished with a shake.
He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, laughing a little. “Had to ask around to find out which class you were in though.”
You felt a warm bloom of embarrassment and pulled your hand away, shoving it back into your pocket and averting your eyes. “I don’t have a job or anything,” you said.
He blinked at you. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”
You rubbed the side of your arm and shrugged. “My family’s kinda poor too. Like, we do fine, but my parents are really serious about money so…,”
“What’s your point?” asked Namjoon with wide, curious brown eyes.
You stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before continuing. “Aren’t you gonna ask for, like, reward money or something?”
He released a booming, chesty laugh before waving his arms like mad and shaking his head. “No! God, do I look like a thug to you?”
You eyed him from top to bottom and shrugged. “I don’t really know what a thug is supposed to look like.”
He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Forget the money,” he said, pausing to give you a warm smile. “I just wanted to meet the person who made those drawings.”
You went stiffer than a board. For a moment, time stood still. Namjoon froze before you, the gently falling leaves outside the classroom window froze, and you froze too. Like your feet were rooted to the ground.
“You…did you look through it?” you asked softly, too horrified to raise your voice above a bare whisper.
He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was looking for a phone number or something on the inside flap, but then I got distracted by the art.”
“You…”
“You’re really talented,” he said, offering another big smile. “Like, you could go pro if you wanted to.”
You swallowed hard, your throat constricting, and chucked the dirty blackboard eraser on the podium with a puff of fine dust. Without another word, you zipped up your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You walked past him quickly, not even sparing him a glance, and walked faster when he followed you, calling after you and begging you to turn around.
Namjoon followed you around for a month after that: waiting outside your classroom after school, catching you off guard as you sketched in the courtyard during your lunch break, walking his bike behind you as you led the way to the bus stop, cheering for you at the sports festival and causing you to miss the volleyball coming straight for you. Every time he’d come around, you’d turn grey with horror and you wouldn’t say a word. But luckily for you, Namjoon said plenty enough for both of you. It was always, When are you gonna join the drawing club?or,You should start working on a portfolio, or, If you love art so much, why aren’t you applying to an arts college?
You didn’t bother asking how he knew where you were applying. As you’d gotten to know him, you’d begun to understand his uncanny ability to secure sensitive information from teachers. It seemed they all loved him about as much as you despised him. Not long after that comment, you finally began responding when he spoke to you. And you even began bickering like real friends.
After a while, you grew accustomed to him being around all the time. To the point that, when he graduated a year before you and went on to pursue a degree in music, you’d felt almost lonesome without him. And to the point that, when you texted him about your choice to pursue a degree in business, you were almost relieved when he caught the late bus out to your house to scold you.
One day you’re gonna snap, he’d said that night in a moment of calm. You’re gonna finally have enough of living for them. And it’s gonna hurt when it happens. Bad.
But the scolding had never been enough.
Because, in the end, that persistent fear ran like still waters through your body.
You’re realizing more and more that it’s the same fear. That it’s always been the same fear. Back then when you were so scared of losing Hanseul that you considered not even telling him you’d found the messages. In high school when you were too scared to show anyone your sketchbook. Even now, as you straddle the vibrating ATV, Jimin’s arms wrapped lazily around your middle as he giggles behind you, you’re scared to make a single sound for fear of messing up your focus on the hills before you.
If you really think about it, it’s all the same.
When you boil it down to its core, it’s always been the same.
Fear of fucking up.
Like you’ve been walking a tightrope from the start, and any small misstep will result in you plummeting, face first, into the ground below.
Your knuckles go white against your skin as you clutch the handlebars. Stiff, you follow the guide as he vaults over a hill, having no choice but to do the same. You launch your ATV over the sandy bump, sending both you and Jimin flying through the air. And even though a part of you expects to go splat in the dirt, after a few weightless seconds of flight, the two of you return to earth in one piece. This time, it isn’t Jimin’s laughter that startles you.
It’s your own.
“Holy shit!” Namjoon shouts as he runs toward you, face covered in fine dust. He grins at you like you’re his child, and as you slide off the side of the ATV, he sweeps you up in a big hug, laughing. “You did so good!”
You laugh too, patting his flexed bicep, and lean away slightly to get a better look at his dirty face. “God,” you say with a laugh, running the pad of your fingertip along his cheek, leaving behind a stripe of clean skin. “You need a shower, Joon.”
He nods and peels himself away, turning his attention to Jimin behind you. “You don’t look so good,” he remarks with raised brows.
And as you turn to see for yourself, you notice that in fact Jimin doesn’t look so good. Up until then it had been all laughter and smiles and playful squeezes, but now that he was standing in the dirt, arms crossed, leaning back against the ATV with his helmet in his hand, he looked…less than pleased. He watches you and Namjoon with narrowed eyes.
Oh God, you think in a moment of blind panic, I bet he wanted to drive the ATV after all…
But the moment Namjoon approaches and claps his hand against Jimin’s shoulder, the latter perks up and his eyes go bright once more. He turns a grin towards you and offers a big thumbs up. The sky above his waving hair is a perfect blue, and the sun is unrelenting, but somehow his smile is brighter. Carefully, you join the duo and pat the ATV with a sigh. Looking at it now, it doesn’t seem so scary at all. And after all the tips your guide had given throughout the course, you feel ready to do it all again if you get the chance.
Jimin eyes you with a fond smile. “How’d you like it?” he asks.
You hum. “It was…really exhilarating,” you say with a grin. Gently, you reach out your hand for Jimin to shake and without missing a beat he laughs and takes it.
But instead of shaking it, he gives a sharp yank and you go tumbling into his chest. Heart hammering, you struggle to regain your footing, but before you can process what’s going on, Jimin wraps both arms around your back and holds you tight. You’re sure your face reveals your chagrin, so you’re careful to keep it buried in his chest. And although it’s muffled through the fabric of his shirt, you can hear Jimin’s heart thumping quick.
“Thanks for letting me ride with you,” he says quietly against your hair.
You swallow hard, nerves making your hands sweat, and nod once. “Um…yeah, of course.” You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your parted lips and, hesitantly, you reach around to pat Jimin’s back with one hand. “It was fun.”
He backs up with a smile, but keeps one hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do it again when we get home.”
You laugh again, eyes wide. “Are there ATV courses at home?”
Jimin pauses, purses his lips, and shrugs. “Let’s find out.”
Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Shoot! What time is it?” he asks, brows knitting.
You check the watch around your wrist and squint at it, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Jimin still touching you. “Um…half past two,” you say, brain foggy as Jimin steps closer.
He glances over your shoulder to stare intently at your wristwatch. Easily, he slides his hand along your shoulder blades before letting it rest at the small of your back. You can feel the ends of his hair tickling your hot cheek. He hums a little beside you and nods once, as if he is simply verifying the time. Perhaps he is simply doing that.
“Shoot!” Namjoon exclaims again. “If we don’t leave, like, now we’re gonna be late for snorkeling!”
Without meaning to, you slide your eyes toward Jimin and raise your brows only to find him staring at you with the same expression. The two of you share a knowing look before breaking into small smiles.
“Wouldn’t wanna be late for snorkeling,” Jimin says under his breath as Namjoon jogs back toward the guide, all the while frantically miming with his hands.
You grin. “God forbid.”
Hanseul said something once that really stuck with you. Not the sort of sentimental thing that you thought might’ve stuck with you, but something entirely mundane. Something trivial, something said in passing.
It was a Sunday afternoon. Neither of you had work, so you’d decided to take a nice long drive through the city. The sky was endlessly blue and beautiful, and even though you were just one car in the infinite stream of vehicles on the highway, you felt somehow free. With the windows rolled down all the way and music bumping softly through Hanseul’s car’s speaker, you remember shutting your eyes and just…breathing for a minute. And that was enough.
“Jesus Christ!” Hanseul shouted with a belabored sigh, and your eyes snapped open once more. You were quick to locate the source of his frustration and found, merging into your lane from the right, a massive freight truck. “I will never understand the hubris of semi drivers who think it’s a good idea to pass other semi drivers.”
Settling your racing heart, you sighed and breathed a laugh. “Impatience I guess,” you remarked, but he was prickly beside you and you knew he wasn’t finished.
He scoffed. “As if passing that guy is gonna get him there any faster,” he said, then rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Everyone should just go their own pace.”
And with that, he stopped talking. And you returned to leaning your head against the passenger doorframe, gazing out at the line of cars entering the highway.
The sun is white hot on your bare skin as you tread water, face bobbing just below the ocean’s surface. Floating like a buoy, you squint into the endless blue to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. It’s not as easy as it looks on Instagram, that much is clear to you now. The waves waves are gentle but restless as they rock you around and the plastic of the snorkel pushes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of your lips. Your arms and legs are still sore from the previous day’s hike, and now your thighs ache from gripping the ATV. But somehow, despite the hardiness of it all, as you float parallel to the ocean floor, you can’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder every time a flash of red fin or plume of underwater dust catches your eye. And so, mystified, you swim onward.
You feel someone swim up beside you, but it’s too much labor to look and you can’t tear your eyes away from a particularly beautiful fish cresting over the top of some coral beyond your fingertips. It’s only when that someone taps your shoulder that you finally snap from your daze and, blinking quickly, burst out from beneath the water and shove your snorkel to the side. Fearing catastrophe, you turn gasping toward Jimin as he wades beside you with a grin.
And your heart settles down.
You pat your chest a little and sigh. “Jesus,” you mumble.
“Scared you?” he asks, and from this close it’s hard not to get caught up in the brown of his eyes, in the wet ends of his dark hair as they dangle just above his eyebrows.
With the saltwater and the sunlight kissing his skin, he’s practically glowing.
You shake your head. “What’s up?” you ask.
He points with one finger toward the water below and wiggles his brows. “You wanna go down with me? The instructor said it’s really awesome.”
You stare at him for a long moment, trying to discern any malintent or ulterior motive and, upon gleaning none, settle for a nervous, breathy laugh. “Ah, I dunno…,” you say, rubbing your nose with the side of your finger. You look away, toward Jungkook’s fins as they flap violently against the glassy surface of the water. “I’m happy just looking from up here.”
Jimin hums a little. “You sure?” he asks, eyeing you like he knows something you don’t. “You seemed really into it when I came over.”
You swallow hard and your mouth tastes like seawater and anxiety. “No, I’m…,” you start, but it’s weak. The sentence trails into nothing.
He smiles bright enough to blind and you almost have to shield your eyes. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand toward you. “We’ll go down together and come back up together. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”
You stare at his outstretched fingers, pruny and slightly sunkissed, and ponder for a moment. Were you always so tepid? So lukewarm? Wasn’t there ever a time in your life when you did things just because they sounded fun? Thinking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment you became so pragmatic, so afraid. Perhaps when your parents told you a career in art wouldn’t work out for you. That you didn’t have the stuff. Perhaps even before that.
But deep down, buried deeper than you’d like you admit, there’s a part of you that’s always wanted to zipline through the jungle. To ride ATVs. To see the coral up close.
That slumbering part of you is beginning to awaken.
And you wonder as you take Jimin’s hand with an uncertain smile if this has been your pace all along.
He giggles and the two of you dive in unison. You follow the instructions the snorkeling teachers gave you on the boat, and you hold your breath just the way you’re supposed to. Nonetheless, the deeper you swim, the cooler the water becomes and the more your nerves begin to rattle.
Only this time, you don’t find it unpleasant. Not at all, actually.
Because Jimin’s hand is warm.
The two of you coast to a stop in front of the vibrant red coral as a school of orange fish rushes by in a wave. You both reel back for only a moment and then, catching each other’s eyes, exchange the biggest smiles your snorkels allow. And boy is Jimin right. It is awesome. You swear you’ve never seen colors like this. Juxtaposed against the perfect blue all around, the coral reef stands like a mountain underwater, fish flying like birds around the jagged pink peaks, hiding in the deep purple. Anemones wave so close you’re tempted to touch them, and as you lean closer for a better look, you see a red seahorse nestled beside a green sea plant. As if sensing you there, the tiny fish scoots out from its cover and makes its way toward you. Eagerly, you extend your index finger and the creature nudges you just slightly before continuing on its way to the other side of the coral barrier.
Your heart is pounding, racing like a sports car and loud like one too. You turn toward Jimin with eyes blown wide and he’s grinning at you, so fond. He gives your hand a squeeze and you can’t help but squeeze back. Wordlessly, he jerks his head toward the surface, and the way the water plays with his hair makes it look like silk. You’re distracted for a moment by how beautiful it is, how beautiful he is, but he squeezes your hand again and once more jerks his chin upward. Ah! You need air!
You only realize it as Jimin makes a motion toward the surface, but now that you’re conscious of it it’s all you can think of. Q
⤑ Paring: Jungkook x reader (with a little bit Namjoon x reader and Taehyung x reader)
⤑ Genre: wolf!au, soulmate!au, collage!au
⤑ Summary: y/n has been feeling a certain darkness ever since she got her period. Something was calling her and one day that ‘light’ came into vision. You’d never thought however, that it would be a werewolf.
⤑ Rating: 18+
⤑ Warnings: mentions of rape, depression, smut, oral sex, window-sex, shower-sex, knotting, marking and animalistic behaviour.
⤑ Wordcount: 9.5k
⤑ A/n:hey!! This will be my first story on this account. I used to run another tumblr account, but I felt like I needed a new start hehe. Hope you enjoyed this one!
‘why is it so dark?’, you ask yourself as you try to see, but nonetheless fail to do so. It’s too dark. You can’t understand what you feel, but it has been the darkest feeling you have had in your whole life, though you might not yet be that old. It is creeping up on you, like a tiger or some other creature. It might’ve always been there, but never this strong. Never since this very moment. A white ray stands tall in front of you, all too sudden but not unwelcome. You feel like you need to be there, like this might be the place that brings you the peace you have been seeking. You know the feeling, the dark feeling, ends with this light. It all fits too well…
You take a step forward, but when you look down to see where you are walking on, you don’t see your feet. It’s only you, like a floating conscious. Even though it got you distracted for the smallest second, you knew this wasn’t important enough. The only thing worth doing right now is taking another step towards this warm and sunny light. Another step was taken and you feel your body heating up. Even though the light is your answer, you are still reacting to it in all the negative ways. ‘Is this what I need? It’s probably better than that horrifying darkness around us. Around me and this light’.
So without another thought, you take three more steps. There it is, right in front of you. You can feel your whole body reacting in heath, but you still feel save somehow. It’s resisting and it feels unnatural, but you haven’t felt as connected in so long with such a simple thing. You want it. No, you need it. And it also needs you. Two sides, two consciousnesses needing one another. But it doesn’t feel enough. You need more. You need to be closer. You need hi-.
‘Y/n? You are burning up! Are you okay? Wake up!’.
The sudden voice wakes you up in one simple snap. Your eyes spring wide open as you look scared towards your friend, who just as well returns that look. Namjoon puts his hand on your forehead. You flinch as he retracts his hand as fast as lighting, making a gesture as if your forehead is about a 100 degrees. ‘Damn y/n, that should be illegal. It’s way too hot. Please go to the nurses office’, he exclaims.
You put your hand on your heart, feeling how fast it’s beating. It’s so fast that you can feel it in your whole body. You are trying to recall your dream, but you only seem to remember that you felt a dark feeling. It must’ve been a nightmare. You check out your surroundings as you felt quite out of place, but you soon notice you are still in the comfort of your school’s library. You let out a breath, shaking off that weird experience and you try to calm down your body. ‘I think I had some kind of nightmare’, you inform Namjoon before picking up your pencil.
You have been working all night with your classmate. You were assigned to work together on a project. Since the both of you had a hard time to find a good spot in your agendas to work together, you found that only today you could really work on it. So you both took the chance and ended up working all night. You pull out your phone and you notice it’s already 11 pm. Your eyes widen. ‘Namjoon, why didn’t you wake me up? We really need to get going. Can we still get out of the building?’. He chuckles and shrugs. ‘Thought you could use some rest, you’ve only been gone for twenty minutes, so don’t worry. But you’re right. We should go home’. You let out a small sigh before clearing out your desk. He didn’t mean it bad, so you let it go. You both pack your things and go home.
As you walk your way to your dorm, you can’t help but feel that same creeping feeling. You feel that darkness. It’s not uncommon for you anymore. It has been a few years already, the moment you had your period. You have felt it ever since that moment. You can still remember the first dream about it. It was like just now, dark and alone. As if there was something or someone missing from your life. Your mother showed her concern about it and took you to a doctor, who gave you a number of a psychologist. There we thorough experiments, but no one could really tell what it was and how to get rid of it. At some point you found yourself at a more spiritual room. That was even more traumatic, as she just looked at you in fear and told you to leave within a few seconds. It got you thinking. Are you some kind of devil? Some kind of lost soul from another world, what certainly isn’t holy? This time though, this last dream, it was different. Different from your other dreams. You did feel the darkness, but there was something else. It felt refreshing and warm, something you haven’t felt in so long. Whatever it is, you hope that same feeling will return to you. And this time you won’t be woken up. This time it will stay with you.
A/N: I just saw the Joker and I just HAVE to write a story about it, so here ya go :). I am thinking of maybe making a part 2 of this, so just let me know if you like that idea!
Genre: Joker!Taehyung, Angst, smut, oneshot (?)
Paring: Taehyung X reader
Word-count:6.5k
Warnings: Sexual content, groping, kissing, pinning, smoking, slapping, name-calling, Stockholm-syndrome.
Summary:You’d never thought you had to face the well-known criminal: the Joker, since he always targets rich people. Still, somehow the tables turn when you go to the famous club ‘La Farceur’ and to be faced with (maybe?) your worse nightmare.
‘Again, the so-called ‘Joker’ has raided another bank. 9 people have been shot during the raid, which of 4 have died. 20 people are badly wounded. This has been the fifth time this two weeks. How long do we have to wait for someone to act on this?’
You attentively watch the news as you see the blurred images of the man, who calls himself ‘the Joker’, and who does so much terrible things. You can’t imagine someone being so devilish; he doesn’t even do it for money you’ve heard. He is pure evil; he does it for his own satisfaction and happiness. People like this really do exist, which normally isn’t the case. People often do bad stuff because of lack of money or something, but he has all the money now and still continues to do bad stuff. Maybe he’s in depth with someone, it must be. It’s the only logical explanation.
‘That guy is plainly sick’, you hear your friend comment from beside you, eating cereal just like you are doing. It’s really a tradition for the both of you to watch the news together in the morning, making that your bonding-time as roommates. Discussing politics and such. ‘He must be on some shit’, Lisa continues before taking another bite. You huff before agreeing, that man can’t be right in his mind. Or maybe he was fucked up in his childhood by his father or something, anything. Luckily you’re not likely to ever have to face him, being a student. He mostly targets rich people, like banks and stuff. Well ‘being rich’ is something that you certainly aren’t.
‘He does have something hot though, I don’t know what’, Lisa comments, making you laugh out of disbelieve. ‘Damn Lisa, going out with criminals now hm?’, you tease her and she nudges you back. ‘I mean, it’s kind off wild. It isn’t a boring relationship, that’s for sure.’ You laugh even louder at that. ‘Well, true that honey. Still wouldn’t be my first pick though’, you response, shaking your head.
The both of you finish your food and get ready for your first class. You walk to the campus together, talking about anything you could think of. You’ve really grown to like Lisa. You’ve now been roommates for 5 months, you being the somewhat silent person and she being the outgoing on. You really always need one of the two between friends, otherwise it won’t work. She takes you out to parties and you make sure she goes to school. You’re always together, having grown a strong bond together.
‘So, still up for some alcohol tonight? How about a bar or something?’, Lisa suggests and you nod. ‘Why not? It’s not like we have anything else to do.’ She looks with exciting eyes at you. ‘Wow, really? Thought you would’ve refused. Do I see a new woman in front of me?’ Lisa takes a step back as she looks at you in awe. You chuckle, lightly punching her shoulder. ‘We don’t have any tests or assignments, so why not? Therewith, I haven’t gotten laid in ages. It’s time’, you confess, carrying a frustrated face. She frowns. ‘How long’, she asks and you hold up 5 fingers. She gasps as she stops her pace beside you. ‘No… I’m so sorry for you. Why didn’t you tell me?’ She puts an arm around you as she still has a worried face, making you huff. ‘Well damn, it’s not something to discuss on a daily basis.’ You look around you to see if anyone has heard your conversation, being slightly embarrassed. You don’t see anyone, except this big guy standing along the sidewalk. He does kind of seem odd to you, but you decide not to pay any attention to him and to continue your walk with your worried friend.
You both arrive at the class, entering as Lisa keeps on asking about your sex life. ‘Lisa stop! I will get laid tonight and I will be okay.’ You stop her ramble. She pouts before agreeing. ‘Okay, but you’re going to have to put my sexy clothes on. A normal skirt wont do it with this mission’, she notes and you scoff. ‘Whatever makes you satisfied’, you say before you let yourself focus on the class, which is just about to start.
‘How does one own such a tight and short dress’, you complain as you walk down the street, trying to pull your dress further down. Lisa holds your arm hooked around hers, pulling you back up. ‘Don’t bend down like that, your boobies will maybe pop out doing that’, she giggles as she shakes her head. You scoff, not liking this outfit only one bit. Yeah, you want to get laid. But like this, it’s kind of cheap and that’s not really what you had in mind. You just want a one-night-stand, but not with some gross dude. He needs to have class and be a gentleman. But knowing Lisa, she doesn’t really mind about that. And there is nothing wrong with that; the girl has needs too. Your standards are just different.
You arrive at the familiar club ‘Le Farceur’, being one of the hottest clubs in the city right now. You often come here, knowing you’d get the optimal club-experience. You’d be surprised how many clubs aren’t great at all. Some clubs have old gross men on the side who keep on looking at you with there old eyes. Others just have awkward young people who don’t know how to party nor to throw one. ‘Le Farceur’ really knows how to do it having: great DJs; cute barmen; great lights and a beautiful dance floor made out of glass. You love the club and you always feel like you walk into another universe.
‘May I get that coat?’ The doorman asks and you nod, giving him exactly that. Lisa also gives her coat to the other man standing a bit further in the hall. You can already hear the music dancing off of the walls. When you take a turn to Lisa, you already see her flirting with that very guy. You don’t know how she does it with that much ease, you simply can’t. You can already hear Lisa say: ‘What makes you different, makes you special.’ Yeah, say that to the girl who will stay alone forever in her little house with her thousand cats.
‘Ready?’, Lisa asks as she approaches you. You nod and the both of you enter the hall. The club is already full with sweaty dancing people. The smokers are fully on and everything looks blurry as you enter the room. Immediately Lisa grabs your hand and pushes through the crowd, trying to find the bar at the other side of the club. The music is loud as you walk through the people. Some people are singing, some are talking with their friends; some are trying to flirt with others. You like this, it’s as if anyone can finally let loose in this room. There are no worries, just maybe the growing feeling that you might throw up because of the many drinks one has taken. No tests, no pressure from school. Just loud music and beautiful people around you.
‘You want the usual?’ Lisa asks and you nod. You look around as Lisa starts ordering. You can see a few familiar faces in the crowd, being people you know from school. You’re not surprised, this is a well-known club. Everyone at the campus talks about it. About people who have hooked up there, or even split up.
‘Here you go, one tequila shot, a lemon and some salt. Let’s go!’ Lisa yells after putting some salt on your hand. You immediately lick it off of your hand, shot the tequila through your throat and put the lemon in your mouth. You frown out of disgust, but then laugh because of the thrill it gives you. Lisa mirrors you exact, making you laugh even more. The both of you do a few more shots before heading to the dance floor, dancing together before Lisa finds a very handsome young man to dance with.
You can feel yourself getting drunk by the second, loosing up and dancing more freely. You let yourself focus on the music, though you don’t know the song. You don’t really care though.
Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you turn around. A tall guy stands in front of you. You giggle as you take a step closer and you can recognize his face. It’s the guy from this morning, he was standing along the sidewalk. I guess he did hear us talk and probably wants a peace. He looks mysterious, having dark glasses and this black suit on. It’s like he’s straight out of Man In Black. You just know he could take you just the way you’ve needed someone to for the last 5 months. A strong tall guy, maybe even a gentleman.
He now firmly holds your arm, almost painfully as he start dragging you through the crowd. You don’t know how to react, but you’re kind off too drunk to know how. You start pulling on your arm, hoping that the guy will just let go. It’s now that you’re beginning to panic, what does this guy want? Why is nobody stopping this guy? People see me right? They see me getting dragged out of the crowd? Or maybe I’ve done something wrong and is it security trying to escort me out. I just can’t remember myself misbehaving.
You arrive at a door in the corner of the club. The guy has been silent the whole time as you were trying to follow his fast pace through the crowd. You want to be sober so you could try to make sense out of this, but you can’t. You’re stuck being this drunk fuck that’s busy trying to keep her balance.
‘Who are you?’ you manage to get out. The man doesn’t answer and just starts dialing some number beside the door. You figured he is taking you in there. But why? This can’t be something bad, right? People didn’t just let a girl dragged through the club only to get raped. Or do things like this happen this easily? Thinking about it, drunk people don’t really keep an eye on others around them. So it’s possible. You begin to pull harder on your arm, even wiggling in hope that he magically let your arm go. The guy grunts, making the grip on your arm tighter. You let out a small yell out of pain, body falling in each other. You try to stay up, but together with your drunk mind you can’t really keep it that way.
You hear a soft beep and the door in front of you opens. The guy drags you through the door and closes it behind you. He didn’t come along with you; you’re just alone there in this room, that’s what you think at least. You don’t dare to look up; you just look down at your hands, which you can’t quite get focused because of the alcohol that flows through your system. You do notice the room is pinkish and the floor from is wood. Your eyes slowly make their way up and you now see a white carpet on the ground. Something like a sofa is on the end and a little coffee table on the side.
‘He hasn’t hurt you, has he?’ You suddenly hear someone say at the end of the room. Your body shocks by hearing this sudden voice. It does sound familiar, like you’ve heard it somewhere before, but not face-to-face. The voice doesn’t give you a good feeling though. You want to look up, but you’re a bit too dizzy to do so. At this point you don’t really know what’s real anyways.
‘You look weak, I didn’t fucking ask for a weak one’, the person says again, talking in a irritating manner. You frown, still looking down. ‘Then why don’t you fuck off’, you reply, not caring for the words you are using. You slowly sit up, finally finding your balance. You scan the room. You notice how the walls are red, the black ceiling and the golden decorations around the room. At the side you see a pole and you realize this must be some sex-room. At the end you see a big sofa with a man sitting on it. He’s sitting with his legs crossed and his head hiding behind a newspaper. You frown as you start to scan the man. He has a colorful appearance, wearing some form of a suit. You can even see the top of his head, showing a green color or maybe blue? You can’t really see that well, not with the blurry vision thanks to the alcohol. You do see some kind of smoke surrounding the man and when you start to smell, you just know it’s a cigarette.
‘So you are feisty’, you hear him say with a smug sound. You scoff, trying to prove you’re not scared, but you fucking are. You don’t know what to do, but you do know this man has power.
Then his newspaper goes down and the painted face looks back at you, a cigarette resting on his lips and showing a cocky expression. Your eyes go wide and your heart starts to race a million times faster than it already was. It’s the fucking maniac. The guy you’ve now seen for months upon months, doing terrible things against the nation. It’s the man who has stolen billons of dollars from rich people and not hesitating to make a few kills for it.
He has a dark grin on his face, as he looks you up and down, standing up from the couch in the uncanny manner. You move your body as far as possibly away from him, that being your natural actions. How the fuck did I get in this situation. You try to move further back, but your head still tolls by the alcohol you’ve been drinking merely moments ago. He walks up to you with a fast pace, making you scared. He knows what he is doing and he loves it. He loves to make people scared.
He crouches down beside you and grabs your hair, pulling it back harshly so you look into his eyes. You can hear a soft thud beside your face, being it the cigarette he puts out on the wall you’re pressed up against. His face is very close to you now, his lips hovering above yours and breath hitting against your skin. The smoke is still coming out of his mouth when he starts speaking.
‘I’ve heard you that you are looking for something naughty, my ‘lady ’, he says with a low and dark voice, now letting himself sit down on your lap. You don’t know how to react to this, but your body does the job as you feel a certain warmth stream through you. You feel yourself now breathe much louder and your body wants something, you can feel it. You know the feeling all too well, maybe even loving the adrenaline flowing through your body that goes with it.
No, stop (y/n). It’s just the alcohol. You can’t feel this way towards this ‘man’.
The Joker smirks down at you upon seeing you struggle underneath him. He yanks your hair back ever so slightly, exposing your delicate neck to him. His eyes meet yours, still as dark as they always are, before he reaches down and gently kissing the exposed skin, surprising you with the gently touches. It’s not something you’d expect from such a masterminded criminal like him, the Joker. Your body shakes as you let yourself embrace the tinkling feeling on your skin, which are vastly changing into sloppy kisses and making you moan ever so quietly. Why is he so damn good at this?
‘Let’s see what you’ve got, baby’, he whispers into your ear after parting his lips with your neck, he even had inspected the red skin it had turned to. Suddenly he yanks on your hair as he stands up himself, forcing you to get off the ground. You let out a small whine as you try to follow his forcing moves. He pushes you towards the couch, not so gentle anymore, and bends you over right on that spot. You inhale sharply upon this action, but you don’t fight it for some reason. Your brains are telling you to scream and kick your way out of it, but the alcohol is letting that voice fade into the background together with the pounding noises from outside the wall, where people are still dancing and shouting along the music. The only thing you can focus on now is his groin pressed up against your ass, feeling so thick and long, and the way it makes your body ache for more.
‘You know what ‘Le Farceur’ stands for baby?’ His hands are finding its way around your butt, tracing soothing circles and making it hard for your knees to stay up. Then, with no warner whatsoever, he pulls his hand up and lets it down with great force against your ass. You let out a small high-pitched moan, making yourself again amazed at the way this man can make you weak like this. You can hear him laugh behind you, cocky that he could make you feel this hot by only slapping you. ‘It stands for ‘the Joker’’, He says, both hands groping you harshly, your body pleading you for more. You lean into him as he does so and you can’t do anything but to plead out your pleasure.
‘F-Fuck daddy.’
You feel another slap on your butt, but this time a bit stronger and with more passion than before. You hiss this time, not feeling any pleasure by that, rather pain. But not the kind of pain you want to run away from. Your arms almost give in by the force of the slap. He grabs your hair again and pulls you up straight against his body, his hard cock pressed up against your butt with more force. You can already taste it on your mouth.
‘who?’ He asks as he moves his hips forcefully against your ass, making your back to arch into him. You love this, you love the way he makes you dripping wet, the way his cock forces its way against your ass and making you hope you didn’t have any panties on.
‘J-Joker’, you reply, almost moaning, as he remains to move against your ass from behind you. You can practically feel the way he smirks behind you, eyes printed on you as he does so. He lets go of your hair slowly, his fingers wondering down. He touches every single feature of yours, beginning from your neck, down to your arms and gently groping you and making you rill all over. His hands grab the soft fabric of your dress and pull the strings over your shoulder. The newly exposed skin are immediately marked with his wet kisses, making you arch into him. You want to be closer to him. He doesn’t react to it, he just continues his way down, letting the dress slowly slide off your body. You feel nervous as he does his action, too much anticipated and wanting him to fuck you already. You even let out a soft whine, hoping he would punish you or anything, but he doesn’t. A mastermind indeed.
When your dress finally hits the ground, only wearing your panties now, you can feel his hands caressing your breasts. You can hear him grunt when he start pinching your nipples, pleasure getting ahead of him as he does so. You hum when he gropes your breasts with more force, pulling you closer against his body and you feel his dick again close against you. He is such a tease, being so slow with you, not fucking you immediately.
‘Patience my baby girl’, He whispers into your ear as he lets go of you. You let out a small noise, feeling so naked and untouched when you don’t feel him against you anymore. You want to turn around, but you can hear a disapproving sound when you almost did. ‘No can do, baby doll. Patience I said’, he instructed and you obeyed. How hot he might be and how much you want him inside of you, he still is one of the biggest criminals. He is still dangerous and you wouldn’t want to get actually hurt by this little game he is playing with you.
You can hear something hitting the ground, some kind of fabric maybe. You don’t really know where he is in the room since the noise from outside is still pounding through the walls, music and talking people getting right through. It makes you even more wet upon knowing he’s about to fuck you so hard while people are right there outside. Oh, you want him to. So badly.
‘Lay down’, you suddenly hear from behind you. You say as you are told, lying down on the sofa in front of you. First you sit down, making eye contact with the man in the room and you are not upset with what you are met with. He is standing in front of you, fully naked. His body is painted with thick caramel-colored muscles, shining under the dim-pink lights around you. His legs look strong and his chest looks so inviting, something you want to have a taste of. His cock is standing strong and proudly, looking so good and delicious. You just know he’s going to fill you up the way you want him to and with that dazzling expression, he is promising he will just do that.
‘You like what you see, don’t you baby?’, He declares as he sees your longing eyes, finally laid down on the sofa. You swallow back your words, knowing you can’t get too excited. You’ve learned your lesson now; you won’t let him tease you that long again. You need him right now and toying with you is definitely not the way to go.
Your eyes are widened when he decides to slowly walk up to you, making your body ache of desire. His muscles move strongly, but still so delicate. You hate the fact that you can’t see his face, though you still find the façade kind of exciting. His eyes still look dark when he finally reaches you, like he is fucking you with them, but not touching you yet. You squirm on your place, trying to calm yourself down and to net get too excited.
In one swift move he had placed himself above your waist, his dick throbbing as you can basically taste him. He is so close, you just have to lean forward and you can just-
‘No no, sweetheart. I’ll guide you’, he says as he pushes you back on your place, making you whine once again. You knew you shouldn’t have whined that much, because suddenly his eyes looked angry, making you shiver. He grabs your hair once again and yanks it back. There flew a shot of pain through your neck, since he has bend your neck over the handrail. You let out a small yell upon feeling that, but before you could say anything was his face already close you yours.
‘Whine fucking once again and I will snap that neck.’ His threat got through to you and you just nod, eyes wide open, as you feel terrified. He sits back on your waist as he suddenly puts a cigarette in his mouth, lightening it with a small lighter. You look at him with awe as he pulls his hair back and taking a deep inhale of his cigarette. Though he had just threatened you, you still think he is so beautiful, in some ways.
‘Now, darling. Open wide’, He says as he suddenly closes the gab between you and his cock, his body now placed above you. You open your mouth as far as you could, your hands finding its way to his cock and placing it right in your mouth. You can hair him grunt as you lick his dick wet, making it ready for you to suck on. You begin slowly, making your mouth hallow as you let him enter your mouth. You can taste the saltiness of his skin, but still the way it’s so delicious. His hips slowly begin to rock with your movements, making a pace onto your mouth. You can now smell the smoke again and when you look up, you see him exhaling all that smoke out of his lungs.
How can one be so damn hot when smoking?
You begin to suck, making slurping sounds with your mouth as you do so. It’s now that he grabs your hair and starts to moan a little upon feeling your mouth surrounding his cock. You make sure your hands are making rotating movements around his dick while sucking him dry. He feels the urge to go faster, so he starts pulling your head and you let him guide you. His pace is fast and it’s not easy to keep on sucking, so you instead make your mouth hallow again and let him go as deep as he wants. He loved that move and immediately makes use of it.
‘Yes baby, let me fuck that mouth hmm’, he grunts as he rocks his dick as far as he could into your throat. You make gagging sounds and you have to gasp for air, but somehow that makes him hornier and he only goes faster by it. You don’t really care about it, you want him to abuse your mouth like this.
‘Fuck I need that pussy.’ He thrusts his dick as far as he could into your mouth for the last time, staying there for a few seconds, making your gasp as you almost past out for air before releasing you. You lay back as you have to come to your senses for a few seconds and look back up, seeing his cocky face with his dark eyes. He again blows out some smoke as he had just taken an inhale from that cigarette. It makes you frown in the haste of the moment, thinking of how bad smoking is. But it occurred to you that he isn’t a healthy man and that a cigarette is probably the least of his problems.
He puts the cigarette down on the edge of the coffee table beside the sofa. You look at him, anticipating on his next actions.
He grabs your hips and lays you on your belly in one swift move. He then pulls your hips up, leveling with his cock. He starts dragging his cock against your damp panties, which you sadly are still wearing. Your body leans into the touch and you start to wiggle your ass, hoping he would feel more tempted to fuck you. Instead he lets his hand fall down on your butt with a great force, making you exhale sharply and feeling the way your skin burns under his touch. If anything, that made you want him even more. You could never find a better sex partner than him.
‘P-Please’, you breathe out, arching yourself into him again. He presses his dick further up against you, rubbing up and down. ‘Please what, my princess’, he asks and you immediately reply. ‘Please… Joker’
He suddenly pulls your panties to the side and you are met with something other than his dick. You can feel his tongue gliding between your folds, licking up and down. Your body sinks down and your ass perks up, wanting him to hit certain spots. He finds your clit with ease and his hand begins to toy with the little nub, making circular motions. You moan into the sofa as he finally gives you the relieve you’ve been searching. He even ads another finger into the mix, inserting it into your hole. His fingers a tall and thick as it moves through your insides, hitting al the right spots when hit curls inside of you. Nobody has ever known to pleasure you like this, not even once.
Through all of this he hasn’t stopped to taste you and even groan when he does so. He seems to enjoy you so much; he has never felt such passion with anyone before. Nobody ever really wants to fuck him, he is the Joker nonetheless. They are always afraid of him; so he often has to force them, really, and after that probably kill these women. But you, you have the same kind of crazy mind like he has. The way you want to stay good, but for him you’d do everything. His little slut. And no way he will throw that away. He will keep you, his own little whore to enjoy.
Your body begins to shake as he keeps on pleasuring you and you feel great heath rising in you. You can’t help yourself but to reach behind you and grab his hair, you need to hold something. In return, he grabs that hand and forces it down beside you and pushing your ass way further back so he can insert his tongue into you. Out of pleasure, you begin to moan loudly, calling his name multiple times. He keeps on thrusting into you and rubbing your clit when you finally come, the heath finally bursting out of you and leaving you breathless on that sofa.
You can feel his eyes on your back, probably smirking for the thousandth time as he sees you laying there, body still weak as you’ve just cum. That rest didn’t take long as he turns you back on your back and pulling your legs upwards, hooking them on his shoulders. You look up into his eyes, still breathing loudly as you do so. He looks back in yours, an uncanny grin on his face as his cigarette is back in his mouth. He blows some smoke out into your face, making you cough slightly. His grin turns into a small laugh upon seeing you like this, taking another inhale before taking out the cigarette and connecting your lips.
You inhale the smoke into your lungs as he kisses you with all the passion he has to offer. Your tongues immediately connect an you again can feel his cock pushing up against your entrance, making your inhale against his lips. He explores your mouth with his tongue as he slowly rocks his hips up and down, feeling your wetness against him. He grunts and his breath begins to make a pace. He makes one swift move, putting his cigarette back down before saying: ‘You really are one special slut, aren’t you my love?’
With that he suddenly thrusts his cock inside of you, breaking your lips apart as you inhale sharply. The pain shoots through your body, not being used to his size and also not having had sex for a couple of months. You grab his arms out of discomfort, nails digging into his flesh and making him his too. He stops moving by that as he looks at you, expression filled with passion, though you can’t see it since your eyes are tightly closed in pain.
‘Easy baby doll, relax’, he says, leaning down to your ear. He slowly starts kissing you on that spot, trying to make you focus on his lips and not on the pain that shoots through you. Like magic, you can only focus on his kisses and you start to hum in enjoyment. You thought he wouldn’t stop for you to adjust, but he does. That isn’t something the ‘Joker’ would do, is what you thought. Maybe he is just a big softy from the inside?
As his kisses become rougher, his hips slowly start to move, at first a bit rough, but slowly better and better. You begin to moan against his shoulders as his pace goes faster with the second, eyes frowning by the pleasure it is bringing you. Your arms find their way around his neck as you try to get him closer to you, smelling his scent and savoring it in your memories. God, you hope you can remember this tomorrow.
His pace has gone up again and is now pounding into you, skin making loud noises against each other in the room. Your moans are just as loudly heard, slipping through your lips when you are not kissing his neck. You love the way his body is so close to you, how he feels so good and big inside of you. He fills you up better than you’d thought he would. Everything is better than you’d thought, he is the perfect man. He knows just the right ways to please you, like how he angles his hips to hit that special spot inside you. Damn Joker, you look like a criminal but fuck like a goddamn god.
‘Fuck, you are so tight and so good. So well behaved, my little doll’, he mutters under his breath as he grabs your throat, putting a soft pressure on it. You feel the way your air ways are getting blocked until you can barely breath and you can’t help yourself but to moan. You want him to own you like this, to make you his slut. ‘Such a fucking freak.’ His eyes are so dark as he leans down to kiss you again, hand still on your throat and hips slamming into yours. You don’t know what to do with yourself as the pleasure rushes through you, heath again growing inside of you.
It’s then that he pulls out of you, making you pout as he does so. He smirks down at you before he grabs your legs and unhooking them from his shoulders. He sits down on the couch, legs spread widely as he grabs his still-lightened cigarette from the little coffee table. He takes another inhale before exhaling again, letting the smoke wander into the room. You look at him in awe as you sit right up, admiring his looks again. His silhouette looks so beautiful from this angle and the smoke seems to almost dance around him.
‘Take a seat, darling.’ He really loves naming you things and it always seems to work on you, since you get wetter every time. You do as he tells you and sit on his lap. He looks up at you, silent as he observes every single detail of your face, taking a few smokes a he does so. He then leans in to slowly lick your breast, making circular movements around your nipple. You hum in pleasure as you push your panties to the side and lining his dick up with your entrance. You slowly sink down on it until you can’t get any fuller. He grunts against your breasts, loving the feeling of you around him.
You move your hips up and down, slowly building up. He keeps on looking at you as he takes his inhales from his cigarettes, making you feel enchanted by his state of being. He does it just so well.
He puts his cigarette down again and starts to move with your hips, making a faster pace. You now are breathing loudly again as your body works hard to keep the pace that he wants and you can’t help but moan loudly because of it. He grabs your hips as he bounces you up and down his dick, making wet noises with your pussy rushing against his skin. He seems to love the noise as he keeps on trying to go harder into you. You pull your head back as you get lost in the pleasure he is giving you, body slightly beginning to tremble as the heath slowly grows into you. It only takes a few hard strokes for you to cum even harder than the last time. Your pussy clenches by the feeling and your body twitches, as you can’t help but to fall into his arms. He holds you, but doesn’t lose his pace as he also finds his own high. He makes a few hard thrusts as he suddenly comes into you, dick buried deep inside of you as he does so.
You both breathe loudly as you lay on top of him. He holds you tightly against his body when he still makes the last few strokes inside of you. He wants to burry that cum very deep inside of you, you’re his and that’s where his cum should be too.
‘Crazy girl’, he breathes out into your neck and you can’t help but to chuckle at that. You’ve just fucked the Joker, the person you basically hated. But you couldn’t get enough of him, though he might be a criminal. This must be some Stockholm syndrome or something.
‘You’re now mine, baby girl.’
Your eyes widen for a second, but then you realize that you probably don’t have a choice. He’s one of the bad guys and is probably the best one there is. You don’t have any input in this. That’s what you tell yourself at least. What’s really going on is, he fucks well and he feels good with you. You know it’s not good for wanting him, but it’s the plain truth and you actually don’t give a shit about it anymore.
‘You will live with me, you don’t have to do anything but to fuck with me like a good girl’, he says before leaving small kisses on your neck. You hum by the feeling, again tingling your neck. ‘I don’t care, as long as I stay with you’, you answer and he huffs. ‘You really are my crazy doll, aren’t you?’
He hooks your legs around his waist, dick still buried inside of you and standing up. You cling close to him, as he seems to walk to a wall, pinning you up against it and pounding a few times into you, making you moan by the similar sensation. Then he continues his walk towards some door and opens it without hesitation, you still clinging onto him. A man is standing there, the same man who had brought you into this room. You widen your eyes and you try to hide yourself, but instead you only hear the Joker chuckle.
‘We’ll be staying here for a couple of hours, get it done’, he says to the man before closing the door again. He lets you slowly slide down, his dick now out of you as he pins you to the door, which has been closed. He looks deep into your eyes with a small smile, looking like a different person.
A/N: I have this story originally on my new Wattpad account: @a_sad_pandas_corner, where I will poste the episodes of this series more frequently. So if you want to keep up with the story I recommend you read it there :).
Chapter: Pilot
Genre: Loverboy!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, smut
Paring: Taehyung X reader
Word-count: 945
Warnings: Abuse, unjust, anxiety, force, loverboys, sexual abuse, swearing, sexual content,
Summary: Only few can keep the good and the bad people apart in one look. When your first look upon Kim Taehyung found place, you thought you knew which of the two he was. Some people are wrong in those moments and will move on, but you aren’t ‘some people’ and that has gotten you at wrong places.
Your face remains down as you hear the door open. Every second suddenly feels like 10 more as the time goes on. You’re just sitting there, fixated on your feet which are carefully crossing each other on the ground, your hands squishing the fabric of the unfamiliar sheets. You can see your bruises, handprints which now paint your skin. It’s all so unfamiliar. The only thing that does feel familiar is that feeling. The feeling you always have during these 'moments’. Your heart pounds like you’ve just ran three marathons. Your head spins and you can’t fixate. You know that doesn’t just happen, that’s not something you’d usually do. It must be something in that damn drink they always give me. Sweat begins to drip off of your face, though he told me so often to stop that. How can I stop it?
It’s common for you to have these kind of 'thoughts’ during these 'moments’. You call them 'moments’, because the correct words make your heart ache. You know what’s awaiting you and you know you will feel about a thousand times worse and terrified than you are right now. If I just knew where I was. But you don’t and it wouldn’t matter if you did know. He says I can’t know anything, and that’s what you will go with. Knowing nothing will always be better than knowing something, certainly in this industry.
The door closes. finally, Just get it over with already.
The time it takes for these men to close the door, is nothing compared with the time they take to have to walk to you. It’s the moment they slowly reveal their ugly selves. They have zero shame for the things they do to girls like you. Though they are 'costumers’, it’s well known this isn’t legal. These girls aren’t allegedly letting themselves getting punched, tortured and sexual abused. They know what they are doing, but they don’t really give a fuck. And here you are, right on the spot where no fucks were given and you are the one getting literally nothing out of it besides hurt.
It has been about 2 days since you’ve been here, since that 'person’ had taken you to this place. It had been about 12 days since you even met this person and began to trust him. It’s so easy to fall for lies from others. So easy to fool others and get profit out of it. You knew this world excised, but more like 10 years ago. They were just stories and happened to a couple of girls around the country, you thought. But that It’d ever would’ve happened to you wouldn’t be something you would’ve expected. But here you are, in an unknown bed. Your own familiar clothes burned to ashes, letting you only wear the slightest of lingerie. Forcing you to lay there, chained up in this bed and letting men use you for nights-and-nights on. If you could choose between death and this, it wouldn’t be a hard choice anymore, if you were to ever get to a balcony. Or if they even have a balcony. Am I even in the city?
You slowly dare to look up at the man. He is tall, probably about mid-40s. His face is pale and tired. He could be someone’s father or husband, but no, he is in this room waiting for you to stand up and let him use you the way he wants to. Or maybe he is one of those gentle customers, though that isn’t common. With you, in your 2-day experiences, that hasn’t happened yet. Other girls in the building would be all happy when they had a 'softy’ and they would have finally been treated like a 'princes’ again. For these girls it has been too long. Too long that they had been suffered through these people and it has become the only thing they know. I need to stop fucking thinking. Thinking makes you feel just miserable. You will realise, over-and-over again, how bad your situation is. How bad you miss your family, your life. How much you regret you’ve chosen the wrong fucking guy. You could’ve just looked a little bit further than that fucking face of his, there must have been signs. How could you ever let this happen to you, why couldn’t you have been more careful?
Train of thoughts, which all these are, they will go away. Just like the saying goes: they are like trains. They come on by in a high speed, wheels making loud noises, making you feel nervous. The moment it passes you, you feel overwhelmed and a bit shaky, because the train is going so-so fast. It’s almost when it’s gone, that you’ve realized it was just a train and it’s nothing to be overwhelmed about. It passes like any other thought, it’s just a bit more scary than others. You just need to remind yourself to stay calm, then nothing will go wrong. But can it even get more wrong than the situation you’re already in and can’t get out?
'Hi sweetheart, you ready?’
You again look up at the big man. He is unbuttoning his blouse, dark eyes on his face as he does so. You feel all kinds of shivers running through your body as he seems to undress you with those bleak eyes, your alarm bells are going off like crazy upon seeing this man disclosing himself. Your body screams for you to stand up and walk right out of that door. But fuck, you know better. You know better than to walk out of there and let those men push you straight back inside. You know it is no use; you will only make it worse. They will make you worse.
'Why don’t you get on your knees?’
And it starts.
I guess I’ve become a emo now, but I don’t mind some depth in my work :)
Reaction:Yoongi meets you in a meet and greet and you have a child withyou.
A/N:Just a quick little work that I thought would be funny. I’m open to new requests <3
°•. ✿ .•°
Now, Yoongi loved his fans, he really did. Army was everything to him.
Well, almost everything. His dog was also a big part of his life.
But anyway.
Army was an intrinsic part of who he was and he appreciated every single fan with enough power to light up the city of New York.
But still, after a couple hours of meet and greets and a few hundred faces, the mind starts to wonder and people start to blurr. He would like to say that he remembered every single fan he greeted, but that would not be realistic as he was just one little man with limited storage space in his brain. Sometimes he forgot some, but he liked to believe that the feeling lingered.
Reaction:Yoongi meets you in a meet and greet and you have a child with you.
Part two: Yoongi calls you.
Request: “So like… You’re open to requests right? What about a chapter 2 of this very beautiful chapter 1?”
A/N:Not me starting a reaction series wanting to write quick little one-shots open to requests and yall just requesting part two, three and four of the first thing I post lmaooo
Still open to requests tho
°•. ✿ .•°
Yoongi used to be so great at picking up girls.
Back in the days, back when responsibilities were far and few and eyeliner was plentiful, he could look at a girl and in seconds have her phone number in one pocket and her panties in the other.
But now, after years-long hiatus from his Don Juan career caused by a jam-packed schedule and a (then terminated) contract he read like an app Terms and Conditions (that is to say, he didn’t), Yoongi seemed to have lost his ways. Now he could look at a girl and… Well, she would look at him back. Probably.
How do you call a girl nowadays, Yoongi wondered lying on his bed. Did things change since the last time he did it? Do people still call girls “shawties” or…?
Yoongi groaned, covering his face with his hands in frustration. That was how Taehyung found him a couple minutes later, still groaning.
“What are you doing, hyung?” he asked, eyeing him from the door.
“Contemplating the consequences of my decisions” Yoongi answered, voice muffled.
“Ew, why?”
Yoongi just shrugged, deciding not to answer.
“What’s that on your hand?” Taehyung pried, nosy as ever, walking in and taking it before the older boy had the chance to react “Is that a phone number? Who are you calling?”
“Give me that!” Yoongi ripped the paper from Taehyung’s sticky fingers, smoothing the creases out “It’s just… This girl I met at the last fanmeet.”
“Oh man is it the hot Milf with the little boy?”
Yoongi sputtered “How did you… She’s not…!”
Taehyung, as usual, interrupted “Yoongi-hyuuuung” he lied down next to other, head on his shoulder “You know you are my favorite hyung right?”
Unimpressed, Yoongi stared at him like he was a piece of gum that got stuck on his shoes.
“The best hyung ever!” Taehyung continued, batting his eyelashes “Say, hyung, best hyung… What are your thoughts on threesomes…”
Yoongi pushed him away, making him roll out of the bed and fall on the ground with a thud.
There were many reasons why Yoongi wouldn’t have a threesome with Taehyung, one of them being the fact that he was an absolute brat and would drive Yoongi insane in the bedroom and not in a good way.
The other was that Yoongi was a possessive little rascal, but that wasn’t necessarily related to Taehyung. He would first have Taehyung join the rapline in a Cypher before he shared you.
“Three is a crowd” Yoongi mumbled “Get out of my room”
Taehyung left, groaning as his hand rubbed his sore ass and Yoongi was once again left with his unhelpful spiraling thoughts. Always dichotomous, his mind could be full of worries and concerns, anxious and cacophonous or as empty as Jungkook’s first apartament and just as sparsely decorated.
Right now, his thoughts were slowly picking up volume, getting louder than his braveness, and so he decided to quickly dial up your number before he could give up.
“Helloo?” a child’s voice picked up on the third ring, one he recognized as Junsuu’s.
“Hey, is this Junsuu?” Yoongi asked, making sure. Children kind of all sounded the same to him.
“Yes, it is!”
“Is this your aunt’s phone, Junsuu? Can I talk to her?” did you give him the wrong number on accident, he wondered? Do kids these days have phones this early? At that age, his parents had him playing with an avocado.
“Imo’s in the shower” Junsuu answered and Yoongi heard shifting sounds as if the young boy was moving around “Hold on” hold on? Was he going to bring the phone with you in the shower? Yoongi gripped his cellphone tighter, left eye twitching at the thought of you picking up his calls naked and dripping wet “IMO!” Junsuu screamed, scaring the living hell out of Yoongi that still had the phone close to his (now ringing) ear “There’s a man on the phone for you.”
There was some shifting again, the low humming of a shower in the background before it stopped. He could hear a door opening and muffled voices and then your voice that still haunted his dreams saying “Hello?”
Oh, God. Here goes nothing.
“Hi!” he said in a chipper voice so unlike him “Is this…?”
Wait.
Hold on.
Did he… Forget to ask…
Your name?
His left eye was probably going to remain twitching for the rest of his life. However long that would be.
It was looking shorter and shorter. He might as well just stab himself with a spork and quit while he was ahead.
Well, sort of ahead. Third place, maybe.
“Yoongi?” you whispered, sounding doubtful “Is this you?”
He gulped “Hi” he repeated “Yeah, that’s me.”
“I thought you would never call” you laughed and for a moment he thought you sounded a bit nervous, a bit shy, just like him.
“Sorry I took so long, I was gathering the courage” he justified, not wanting you to feel like he didn’t want to call you.
“I get it. It must be hard, not knowing who to trust. I could’ve been some kind of crazy sasaeng or a journalist looking to sell you out or something.”
Huh.
Well, Yoongi actually didn’t consider any of that.
See, this is why his life span was looking shorter every second. One pretty girl and a poorly timed boner was all it took to end him.
“Yoongi?” you called after a few seconds of silence, afraid you scared him away “I’m not going to sell you out. You know that, right?”
He knew that. Sort of.
“Right.” he agreed “And if you are, at least wait after the first date, please.”
“Oh” the laughter was back in your voice, teasing him “There’s going to be a date?”
“I was hoping you would at least humor me with one before you inevitably leaked my nudes.”
See, Yoongi could be funny too. He could tease you right back, 2013 Yoongi style.
“Oh” you repeated, voice lower “There’s going to be nudes?”
Nevermind. He was not funny. Retreat, retreAT.
“I thought those were more of a fourth date kind of thing. I was at least hoping to keep mine save until then”
You just kept going! Let him breathe!
“The-There’s going to be a fo-fourth date?” he managed to choke out, voice strained, mind still stuck on the idea of your nudes.
“That depends on how the first one goes.”
“So… Is that a yes?” Yoongi was pondering if it was appropriate to start a victory dance.
“Yes, I would love to go on a date with you” you said and he wondered what phone company he would have to contact to get the recording of that call “I actually have to get ready to work right now, but you can text me the details, ok?”
“Ok!” he agreed, standing up and doing his little victorious shimmy.
“Oh, and before I forget, I realized I didn’t actually introduce myself when we met. I’m Y/N.”
Yoongi sighed, relieved you saved him from the shame of having to ask you for your name. “Can’t wait for our date, Y/N. I got something great planned!”
It was only after the call was over and he was strutting to the living room, mood high and vibes immaculate, that he realized that he had absolutely nothing planned. Not a single idea in his head for a perfect date.
Vibes ruined, Yoongi started to sweat. He needed suggestions and he needed fast. Who could help him in these trying times?
His eyes fell on his band members, all hanging around in their living room, all single and without plans on a friday night, the longest relationship they had being with their hands and duct-taped-phones.
Reaction:Yoongi meets you in a meet and greet and you have a child withyou.
A/N:Just a quick little work that I thought would be funny. I’m open to new requests <3
°•. ✿ .•°
Now, Yoongi loved his fans, he really did. Army was everything to him.
Well, almost everything. His dog was also a big part of his life.
But anyway.
Army was an intrinsic part of who he was and he appreciated every single fan with enough power to light up the city of New York.
But still, after a couple hours of meet and greets and a few hundred faces, the mind starts to wonder and people start to blurr. He would like to say that he remembered every single fan he greeted, but that would not be realistic as he was just one little man with limited storage space in his brain. Sometimes he forgot some, but he liked to believe that the feeling lingered.
Reaction:Yoongi meets you in a meet and greet and you have a child withyou.
A/N:Just a quick little work that I thought would be funny. I’m open to new requests <3
°•. ✿ .•°
Now, Yoongi loved his fans, he really did. Army was everything to him.
Well, almost everything. His dog was also a big part of his life.
But anyway.
Army was an intrinsic part of who he was and he appreciated every single fan with enough power to light up the city of New York.
But still, after a couple hours of meet and greets and a few hundred faces, the mind starts to wonder and people start to blurr. He would like to say that he remembered every single fan he greeted, but that would not be realistic as he was just one little man with limited storage space in his brain. Sometimes he forgot some, but he liked to believe that the feeling lingered.
