Currents

Currents

Author: @yeoldontknow​ Creative Content Contributor: @chillingkoo​ who made this utterly stunning banner for my birthday because she is an absolute angel ;~; Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (oc; female) Genre: arranged marriage au; angst; fluff; smut Rating: NC-17 Warning: explicit sex; explicit language Summary: Jin thinks he’s loved you since the moment he saw you, back when you were teenagers; Jin knows he’s been in love with you, the soul burning kind of love, since he saw you on your wedding day. He doesn’t mind that you don’t reciprocate on his level, he’s just happy to show you he cares. Until one day, he simply can’t anymore. Until one day, you realize you need to show him you care, too.  Word Count: 16,535

Two days after your fourteenth birthday, your parents agree it is time to tell you that you are engaged.

When they call you into the kitchen, you find they are sitting beside one another - closer than you have ever seen them - and a slow panic begins to course through your veins. In the past, death was the only thing that could bring them together, the fading of a life forcing them into closeness if only to seek comfort in another equally as empty.

Keep reading

can they adopt me?

Seraphic - He is Half My Soul, as the Poets Say

Pairing: Fuckboy!Jimin x Virgin!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 16.3k

Genre: friends to lovers, slow burn, one shot, smut, fluff, angst, high school au, university au

Summary: IMPORTANT --> After becoming the ‘power duo’ during your freshmen year of soccer, the two of you made a definite promise: to back one another when things went south, both on and off the field. This progressed throughout high school and into university life. He protected you from heartbreaks, and in return, you protected him from drunken mistakes. You tried your hardest to keep him by your side once he began veering in the wrong direction and slipping from your grasp. All he needs is a bit of a reality check.

Warnings: eventual explicit sexual scenes, descriptive foreplay, oral (f. receiving,) fingering, dirty talk, marking/hickeys, oh and uh jimin’s an obnoxious flirt ;)

Notes: Brief Bang Chan x Reader, but not enough to be a Stray Kids ff. Still being edited. It's been in my drafts for MONTHS but now I am finally ready :D

Rain-soaked hair painted your forehead with swirls of dark brown. Droplets of sweat and elevated blood pressure itched at your pores. The taste of salt and rainwater dripped from your lips, partially entering your mouth with each pant. You glanced down, checking the engraving on your rusted silver bracelet. ‘PJM’ you read silently, sighing contently, the comfort of his initials surging through your being. You looked back up to the field, momentarily getting caught up with the emotions connected to his name.

Despite the weather, the audience continued to roar, echoing throughout the stadium like thunder bouncing off rocky valleys. Following the sudden surge of whistles and cheers, an all too familiar chant commenced. What did it mean again? Ah…

Five minutes left.

The scoreboard read 2-3. And your team was… losing?

“Drop, drop, drop!” You winced, noticing two oncoming players, backpedaling behind your teammate to cover their position. You saw her head whip backward. As she met your serious gaze, she smiled gratefully, passing the ball back to you.

“What would I do without you?” She panted, bolting forward to progress with the play.

“Thank Jimin. I’m only this team’s backbone because of him.” You chuckled, refining your footing and stepping back to boot the ball upfield. Her thigh collided with the ball perfectly, trapping it at her feet. You followed her, covering her right side, closest to the audience, as you both sprinted toward the goal, your teammates trekking closely behind.

“Thatta girl!” You glanced up, your wide-eyed expression meeting the owner of the familiar voice. It was Jimin. Telling you good job, despite you only setting up the play. He’s great at recognizing the players who keep the team going, not just the ones that shoot or defend. As a midfielder himself, he greatly appreciated your abilities to set up perfect plays and knowing when to pull out from one. He was attentive. So very attentive.

“Three! We’re doing three!” You signaled, preparing for the pass back to you as you made it towards the corner arc. You were planning to pull a curveball while the strikers pushed forward into the goalie box. You barely had time to process the moving blurs of green and white in front of you. You were merely able to glance up and check for the proper positioning of your teammates. You felt the leather come into contact with the dorsum of your foot, your leg reactively extended, booting it towards the goal. “Dammit!” You shouted, gritting your teeth as you reminisced how it felt against your foot and echoed in the air. It was a perfect shot. The angle. The power. So why did that happen?

“Oooh!” The crowd oohed and aahed as the ball went soaring. You had in fact, aimed perfectly for your teammate, and instead of them trapping and controlling the ball, they—missed? Their leg swung, clipping the water droplets, and the opposing team took advantage of the opportunity.

“Go again! Go again! Good setup, hun!” You flung your hair back, giving Jimin the most exaggerated sassy expression. You were fed up with your clumsy teammates. You couldn’t help but chuckle though. He was nearing the spray-painted line, hands pulling at his roots stressfully. Your brother is right by his side, carrying the same weight of stress in his features. “Just keep going!” He reassured you, noticing you were a split second away from losing your willpower. You slapped your hands to your thighs, shouting through the air as you booked it back towards your position to reset. Your thighs stung with an imprint of your palm and fingers. Each faint line was crimson red, reminding both you and your team of your feisty temperament.

Your team struggled to keep up, eventually losing with 2-4. The other team managed to score from the last-minute anxiety and fumbles. Heads low. Jaws clenched. Eyes watering. The same white and green blurs lined up in your vision. Shakey hands collided with the others who were much more composed. Your team had ended the season, and not with a bang like the boys' team had.

You met up with Jimin after the game and he was quick to dismiss your melancholy thoughts. “No, don’t look at me like that. You did great, okay? Take my word for it.” He smiled and hugged you tightly before you could say anything. He didn’t care what condition you were in, sweaty or not, he was going to hug you. He always came to your games, not because he was on the boy's team (half of them never stayed anyway due to the girl's team’s win-to-loss ratio) but because he wanted to support you. You were his other half—his pride and joy. Everyone knew that. And you greatly appreciated that since you weren’t exactly the most popular person in high school. But, he was known for putting aside all titles and cliques. He’d befriend anyone and everyone. “Next time, don’t lose your cool. I get it you’re competitive but...” He chuckled, letting go to glance down at your thighs with a loud wince. “That looks painful.”

…

Ah... The 9th grade. You were only fourteen—a mere sapling spreading your roots in the fertile soil called 'high school'—when you made your promise with The Park Jimin. The upbeat and charismatic freshman who happened to be your soccer league’s best player.

He was a powerhouse. He was someone so naturally talented, in the books and on the field, that he could easily stand out in a room full of already talented individuals. Yet, he was a humble soul who bore a gentle eye-smile. He’d lure in students left and right with his easygoing and kindhearted temperament. No wonder why three-fourths of your class had chosen him to be class president. You’re just thankful they had the good taste. That could have, and typically does, go south.

…

Sophomore year rolled around, and once again, you stayed with your small, select group of people while he bounced around, meeting so many new faces—some a little too intimately. But, that wasn’t to be discovered until one random night in the middle of winter. Boy was it unexpected.

“Do you forgive me?” A fluffy brown head peered into your window, scaring you half to death. You yelped, tossing your book and pen towards it, thankfully missing—by a lot actually. “You could have killed me.” He whined.

“How did you—can you knock on my window like a normal person?” You sighed, yet, got up and opened the window for Jimin. “It’s one in the morning.” You groaned. “And, it’s freezing tonight, Jimin.” Wincing, you hurriedly pulled him through by his arm, and carefully latched the window shut behind him as he tumbled into the room.

“I knew you’d be awake.” He simply stated, thinking it was a justified excuse to just waltz into your room late at night.

“Okay, and?” You snapped in a whisper. “And forgive you for what? Barging in?” You searched his face for anything—just anything. It was blank. Too blank for Park Jimin. His eyes always beamed with excitement or were either hazed over amorously. The little boy you knew had up to be a huge flirt. But, you know, he’s a Libra. Bound to happen.

“T-this…” He mumbled under his breath. And with halting movements, he began undressing his upper half—beginning with his insulated coat. He licked his lips nervously, completely giving you the wrong idea.

“Jimin!” You nearly yelled, slapping your hands to your eyes as you spun around. You automatically assumed the worst and thought he was making a move on you. “I don’t know what you’re doing but I’m not looking.” Not like you didn’t want to…

Your face was now a bright crimson. Like you had been slapped repeatedly.

youknowifjiminslappemeiwouldntmind—

FOCUS Y/N

You groan into your hands in an attempt to distract your mind.

“Ugh, I’m not taking my shirt off.” He pulled you toward him by your hood and unbuttoned the top portion of his bleached-white dress shirt. “You’re too innocent.” He smiled at your behavior fondly, leaning his head to the side, exposing his neck to you.

“Oh… Jimin…” you gulped, lust faintly pooling in your stomach. Hickeys painted his olive-tanned skin, starting at the sculpted dip of his neck and trailing down to his pronounced collarbones and chest. “Button your shirt back up, I see it.” You snapped, already feeling the heat scattering across your cheeks even more so.

“Snappy much.” He retorted, sticking out his tongue at you. He stood, waiting for you to do it back. Despite his playful attempt at lightening the mood, your expression didn’t alter much. You merely huffed through your nose. “What’s wrong with you?” He playfully dug his fingers into your side, yet, you didn’t budge.

You made up an excuse. Of course, you did. Why would you confess to him? Jimin? Of Busan High? Never in a million years would you embarrass yourself that greatly.

“Your parents are gonna be pissed. They’ll think it was me.” You pray to whatever God was listening that he didn’t take that the wrong way.

“Umm… they don’t think we’re dating… I’m dating—“

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You cut him off and sighed nervously, losing your ability to speak. “Actually, um, I meant—“

“That we hang out more often than I do with my girlfriend? Is that what you were getting at?”

“Exactly!” You stabbed him in the chest with your index finger, staring him down. “So, um. Back off from me a bit more now, okay? It also wouldn’t be nice to do to your girlfriend.”

“But—“

“Aish. Just go away. Put some ice on it.” You pushed him back toward the window. He fought back and did so quite well.

“Why are you making me leave? I have more to say.” He stood his ground, ripping your small hands from his chest. “Use your words. What’s going on?” His head fell to the side as he read your face carefully. Eyebrows knitted. Eyes scanning over each of your features.

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed out from school and now your parents will assume that was my doing. So thanks.” You circled your finger around, obviously pointing at the various marks shattered along his neck.

A smirk slowly grew on his face. “You’ve been blushing.” Crossing his arms, he kicked a leg out and waited for your response.

Your jaw dropped to the floor. Your hands shot up, carefully pressing the tips of your fingers into your red cheeks. “I. Am. Not! You let the cold air in!” You growled defensively, spinning around to sit at your desk once again.

“I need advice, y/n.” He continued, pretending he hadn’t even said anything about your bashfullness. He didn’t like making you uncomfortable. He never did anybody. Thankfully, he didn’t think much of it. Just that you were shy when it came to these sorts of things.

But he was so very wrong.

“About?” You cocked an eyebrow, eyes fixated and focused on your phone in front of you.

“This isn’t the first time.”

“Oh?” Your eyes slowly rose up to meet his. He moved to your bedside, hands interlocked nervously, posture upright. The pain that struck through your chest was unmistakable. Betrayal. Insecurity. Utter pain. “Are you worried you’re getting addicted or something?”

“It’s happening at parties. When I’m under the influence. Except for this time, it wasn’t. And the girl I’m dating is someone I had a few one-night-stands with.”

Fuck. Can he just stop? You’re already hurting.

“Jimin…” all you could do was sigh his name. You were extremely disappointed in him. Sure, he’s just being a boy and living life, but he’s always been such a good kid. It’s just shocking, to say the least.

“Hmm?” He hummed, asking you to continue. His eyes were seemingly glued to his lap as he toyed with the silver rings that adorned his fingers.

“One-night stands? Drinking? Don’t tell me you’ve tried drugs too.”

“That’s different, y/n.”

The silence that filled the room bore a new meaning. Usually, it was comforting. But now, things between you two, for the first time in forever, were awkward.

And you both felt it. It definitely wasn’t one-sided.

“As I’ve promised: I’m always going to be here for you. I’m just a little ticked off you’re telling me all this after what—months?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I get it.” You slowly sat up, pressing your hands against the table to lift up your exhausted body.

He’s always gone to you for his personal difficulties, concerns, and drama. He has an image to maintain. So he struggles to tell his closest friends his issues. You’re different. And he looked up to you for that. He trusts you. You’re the most open-minded and nonjudgemental figure he has. You shouldn’t be giving him attitude, he needs guidance.

“Before I help.” You say, grunting as you sit down beside him. “I need to know if you’re wanting to stop this? The sex? The parties?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like myself. This isn’t me. I almost feel disgusted with myself.”

You bite your tongue at his sudden harsh words. You couldn’t ever imagine him talking so poorly about himself. However, he was always prone to be hard on himself.

“You’re growing up, Jimin. Everyone our age runs into this dilemma. However, it’s completely natural. It’s good for an adolescent’s social and psychological development. I suppose we can choose to take it that way. Right?”

Your words seemed to do wonders. His eyes light up with newfound confidence. “Really? That’s so interesting, tell me more.” His smile brightly beamed throughout the room. It had a drastic effect, lighting up your face too. You watched how his eye fixated on yours, how he’d make a little pouty ‘o’ when his upcoming question would get answered, and how he’d glance away to ponder over topics. He’s such a good kid.

Eventually, he grew drowsy and started to fall asleep mid-conversation. His eyelids fluttered shut and his head began to occasionally bob to the side before his eyes would forcefully blink open. “Earth to Jimin.” You shook him awake. “You’re not falling asleep in my bed. That’s a good way to get on my father’s bad side.”

“Right…” he yawned, plopping on the bed to stretch out his extremities.

“So, off.” You pulled at his ankles playfully, watching as he giggled and lightly kicked at you.

“Okay, okay, y/n.” He ruffled your hair as you sat there, giving him a stern look.

“Just remember what I said—call me if you need a ride. Call me if you get into any danger.”

“I’d never drag you into danger, hun. Goodnight.” He readjusted his appearance in your mirror before throwing on his coat and taking off.

…

The spring semester of Junior year, the most aggravating period in life, finally arrived. SAT opportunities and college preparation commenced, driving your head even deeper into your books. You even found ways to move on from your overwhelming crush on Jimin. Still, you two kept your title as the ‘power duo’ amongst the soccer kiddos, even earning a reward at the end of the season. And god, it pleased you on so many levels to see the look of jealousy on his girlfriend’s face as you two took a photo together, holding the plated trophy with your all’s name on it.

“The Power Duo: Captain Park Jimin & Captain Min Y/n”

“How about that?” He bounced over to his group of friends, shaking the trophy in their faces childishly, only earning blank stares from them due to his behavior.

“You know she doesn’t belong to you right?” Taehyung tsked, taking the trophy from his friend’s hand to examine it. He was thoroughly impressed though. He tongued his cheek, cocked an eyebrow at Jimin, and suddenly smirked. “She’s single, right?”

“Don’t even. She’s too innocent for your horny ass.” Jimin snarled.

“So territorial for someone who has a girlfriend.” Jungkook huffed, snatching it from Taehyung to get a good look at it too. “What’s it your fifth girlfriend now? Lucky.”

“You freshman—no, you child—give it back!” He snapped back, nearly jumping on the youngest one’s back.

“Please don’t break it, children.” Yoongi stepped over to the boys as you shyly tugged on his jacket. He motioned to Jimin, signaling for the boys to cool it down and hand it back so it didn’t get broken within minutes of it being awarded.

“Sorry, Yoongi-hyung.” They quickly handed it back to Jimin and bowed accordingly to your older brother.

“Gotta learn when to tell them off, kiddo.” He greeted Jimin with a tender smile. “How’ve you been?”

“Good! How’s the business?” Jimin happily pranced over. He frantically adjusted his hair, trying to look decent in front of his highly-respected upper classmate.

“Tae… look at Yoongi-hyung…” Jungkook whispered in his ear while simultaneously poking at his shoulder.

He struggled with his words towards lowerclassmen so they were completely shaken by his proud fatherly smile directed toward Jimin. He looked at him like he was his pride and joy. Adoration laced his voice when he talked to Jimin.

Yoongi had graduated last year and was the one no one fucked with yet everyone liked—doesn’t mean he liked them back though. He was smart when he had to be, but by no means did he excel in school. He was an avid producer and basketball player. Nothing else mattered, besides you and Jimin at least.

You talked about Jimin every night—how much he meant to you, how he swore to protect you— and because of that, he grew to like the boy. He was the only person in school Yoongi grew to like. Eventually, he even started to take a liking to Jimin’s little ‘gang’ he rallied up. A group of five sweet yet troublesome boys. People assumed it was because Jimin was so damn likable and charismatic that he even got Yoongi swooning over him. But no. It was how he treated you: his younger sister who meant the world to him.

“You look so shy, y/n.” Jimin’s eyes crinkled as he watched you look right past him. You looked cute: all snuggled up against your brother’s side, arm now loosely wrapped around his. He stepped into your view, and once again, your eyes wandered around.

“It's not you. She just talked to someone earlier and is acting… a little strange.”

“You don’t seem too worried, should I be?” Jimin pouted, stepping in closer to pry you off your brother. “Need to talk to me?” Jimin hovered over your neck, his whisper fanning over your skin as he spoke. You convinced yourself he had no effect on you. But the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach told you otherwise.

“Pretty sure someone’s got a little crush,” Yoongi spoke up, holding in his laughter as he watched you raise a hand to him, half threatening him.

“Shush.” You mutter. In the corner of your eye, you watched Jimin’s energy fade right from his body. The light died from his eyes. You almost immediately felt a shift in the atmosphere surrounding you two: jimin was beyond agitated.

“Don’t tell me it’s waterboy, Chris. The boy I always see on your Instagram stories?”

“Chris Bang?” Yoongi had intel, so he almost immediately caught on. “Not a bad kid.” He puckered his lips, impressed by your choice. He was expecting you to fall for the overlooked smart kid that usually sits in the second row. Not Chris Bang—the co-captain of the swim team and national youth athlete.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin whined, extending the last syllable exaggeratively like a whiny kid.

“Guess she’s seen him shirtless quite often.”

“And those speedos are fucking tight. If I was into men I mean...” The two boys behind him laughed about how uptight Jimin was.

“Literally no one asked for your input,” Jimin growled, snapped his head back, and scowled.

“You’re turning into me,” Yoongi replied, crossing his arms and taking in the similarities between them. “I trust the boy, Jimin-ah.” He reassured Jimin as he also took note of the anger boiling inside him.

He looked back at you, running his hands through his tousled hair, briefly exposing his bright red ears. “Are you mad?” You ask worriedly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He ignored your question, choosing his over yours.

“Just call me tonight, okay?” You gulped down your emotions and walked off, practically dragging Yoongi by his sleeve behind you.

“Don’t tell me you stopped liking Jimin? I trust that kid with your life.”

“Nope. It eats away at my sanity every night.” You sigh, looking back at the three boys who are now pacing around the crowds and looking for someone.

Yoongi’s eyes soften and follow yours. He lets out a low chuckle and nods in appreciation. “They’re looking for him, huh.” You nod, your gaze never leaving Jimin’s figure, despite it slowly merging and become a small blur. Yet, you could still make out his dark chocolate hair that bounced as he walked.

…

“We actually have a secret relationship. We’re going public soon.” You admit, clenching your eyes shut.

“I’m coming over.”

Click.

With that, you hastily tidied up your room and changed into presentable clothes. Your hair was soaked, face bare, and you were busy on your floor, trapped in a circle of papers. You were not ready for company. And you most certainly were not ready for this type of company.

…

Fumes practically emitted from his ears like in the cartoons. His face shone a crimson red. His nostrils flared like a bull. Everything about him screamed when he couldn’t vocalize it.

“Why?! How long?! Did he take your—“

“Park Jimin!” You shouted defensively, completely throwing him off. You hadn’t ever yelled at him before. (Maybe when he’d pin you down and tickle you, but other than that, no.)

He pressed his lips together, giving you the spotlight to talk, despite laying out this entire argument on the drive here. “I can take care of myself. He’s good to me. You have nothing to worry about.” You continued.

Jimin refused to speak. More like every word that found itself slipping off his tongue was quickly retracted. His mouth then fell agape. He was speechless. Yet, he thought he’d ask just one more time. “Did he take your virginity?” It was more so a thought. It didn’t come off as a question. Perhaps he was talking aloud to himself. He was in utter denial.

“No. I don’t have the time to sleep with anyone right now.”

“Good.” He huffed, eyes finally meeting yours. He didn’t like what he stumbled upon though. You looked infuriated. Like he had overstepped and became territorial like a dog. Was this toxic? What he toxic? “I’m sorry.” He said shallowly. He never fibbed, so you knew he was lying straight through his gritted teeth. He knew he was destined to protect you.

…

When senior year came and you two finally went public, shocking the entire school—Jimin along with it, despite already knowing.

Jimin cut ties, dyed his hair sandy blonde, and redid his entire wardrobe. He was a changed boy but still had that adorable and bubbly streak to him. He changed out his comfy sweaters and desultory pale jeans for black skinny jeans, expensive leather belts, button-up tops (like the one he wore that night for a special occasion), and brogue Chelsea boots. You almost didn’t feel comfortable around him anymore. With the way girls swarmed him during away soccer meets and all. It was too much. He became a bit of an attention seeker, but deep down, he was still your Jimin. He was still your other half.

And to you, it didn’t seem like you were his. Not anymore.

Even before the last semester of high school rolled around, you two had essentially gone your separate ways. You both still applied to the same college since you two had already set up your degree plans. You hadn’t developed hatred or resentment for him, and neither had he towards you.

The spark just… dwindled.

Like when the starry night becomes hazy and raindrops trickle onto your nose. You don’t bother trying to search through the gaps in the clouds to find those bits and pieces of beautiful constellations. You just wait for Mother Nature to do her thing. The time would come again, as it always did.

It seemed much different for your circumstances though. Especially when you confronted Jimin about the upcoming college semester.

…

“Jimin-ssi.”

“Hmm?” During that moment, he realized how far away you drifted from him. Jimin-ssi? He took a second to observe the hand slipped around your waist. That hand surely didn’t belong to you. His eyes traveled the arm, landing on Chris’s untroubled gaze.

“Mind if I talk to you?” Chris knew there was unsettled (or unexplored) beef between them. And Chris didn’t like the tension. He wasn’t about that life.

“Sure.” He agreed, settling down in his seat placed alongside the window. He didn’t keep eye contact. He just couldn’t do it. He didn’t like seeing the boy that was probably sticking his tongue down your throat.

Chris pulled up a chair, wincing as it screeched across the tile flooring, before cautiously placing himself atop it. You stood behind him, hands resting on his shoulders as you thumbed small circles into his muscles soothingly. He immediately relaxed at your touch and you almost felt guilty for doing this in front of Jimin. Because, to you, he was still half your soul. You could still feel his emotions as you passed him in the halls. Part of you thinks Chris knows about your feelings toward him. But, he’s not confrontational, so you don’t expect to hear anything about it anytime soon.

“Hun,” Chris spoke to you, turning his head to meet yours. You bite down on the inside of your cheek and immediately turned to look at Jimin. You could tell he was doing everything in his power not to throw out some sassy remark towards your boyfriend. The nickname did not settle well with him. That was his nickname for you.

“Hmm?” You hummed, reactively letting go of Chris as Jimin turned to painfully look at you. This was the first time you two made direct eye contact for what seemed like months. You had been completely avoiding his gaze.

“I was going to talk to him privately.” He whispered, leaning out of his seat to press a gentle kiss to your nose.

“Oh, o-okay…” you stuttered. Your breath hitched in your throat as you witnessed Jimin roughly gulp and evade your eyes. You tried to meet his eyes once last time, but he quickly dismissed you with a simple shake of his head. The nonverbal ‘Just go’ was as clear as day. That was essentially a warning. Just go before I start saying shit. Despite not talking for months, you two still spoke fluently to one another through glances and motions.

“I know you’re her best friend and you always have been. I know things are rough and that’s probably because of me. I’m really sorry.” Chris admitted, scratching his head anxiously. Jimin perked up upon hearing his apology. Still, his gaze seemed impenetrable to eyes like Chris’s. He’s altruistic, compassionate, and righteous. He sees things for how they appear. He trusts and doesn’t dig deeper. But maybe that’s what he needed to do because Jimin was inches away from punching his annoyingly handsome face. Maybe he can give his eyebrow another slit—one that’s not fake. “I’ll keep talking since you’re ignoring me.” He lifted a finger to speak, and so Chris paused, but Jimin quickly dismissed the thought, lowering his hand to the table. His rings slapped against the wood, grabbing the attention of a few students. Chris licked his lips before continuing, “I was going to have her move in with me during college. But it’d be awkward since we haven’t slept together yet.” Was Jimin supposed to be thrilled about this news or completely demolished inside? You planned to move in with him and his friends. It was already laid out. But, he was head over heels for the fact that you refused to sleep with Chris Bang. “I think it’ll be fine, I plan to give her a promise ring. She stated if she got one, she’d feel comfortable trusting the person intimately. J-just so you know...”

“I swear to God if that’s the reason why you’re giving it to her—!” Jimin slapped his hands to the table, grimacing at the stinging surging through his fingers. His head shot over to Chris’s. His lips quivered with rage. Eyebrows are directly drawn inward. Nose scrunched. All the signs of Jimin about to drive his fist into someone’s face.

Chris quickly jumped up, raising his arms in defense. “That's not why!” Jimin kicked his chair backward and squared up. Nose to nose they stood. Chris knew he shouldn’t back down for y/n's sake. He was going to stand his ground. And Jimin? He was going to put him in his place. He ruled the roost. Plus, it's also his y/n. She was his best friend he had sworn to protect years ago. And because of jealousy, something he feared the most, he practically broke the promise.

…

The waters grew rough at your shared apartment. You could pass through and connect with him anymore. Things between you and your boyfriend were finally coming to an end, and you didn’t know what to do, how to handle it, how to even go about breaking up.

“I think we should—“

“Break up.” You interrupted, slamming down the pen you had tightly gripped in your hand. In reality, drowning out the thoughts with homework was probably was the only thing keeping you from losing your cool. It gave you something to think about. You could focus on the sound of the blunt graphite end digging into the paper. How your letters clumsily crossed over lines when you found yourself deeply immersed in the topic, scribbling notes here and there rapidly.

You hadn’t given yourself time to think about it. You just knew it was going to come up. And that was the end.

“Yeah…” he muttered, slightly uncomfortable with how numb you seemed. “It’s not you. It never was, okay?”

“I know.” You bite down on your lip, unable to find the right emotions within you. Your mind was frantically searching around. Sadness? No, denial? Anger? Acceptance? No, too early. You began tasting the metallic tang of metal and feeling liquid trickle down your lips. You had nearly bitten through your lip to encase your emotions.

“Y/n—“ His hand moved to your face, thumb brushing over your lip as his eyes observed the cut.

“I need to go.” It’s over. Just like that.

Your mind can’t keep up. Your mind hasn’t felt this emotion before. But, you do feel something start to build up. With each step, you feel your heart thunder in your chest cavity. You feel it roar in your ears. How the stadiums sounded, but more… upsetting? Still on similar terms when it comes to the level of adrenaline surging throughout your system.

Then it happens: you’re crying, panting, and gasping for air. Your knees tremble and threaten to give out from under you. Your hands unconsciously tremble as your dig into your pocket to grab your phone. You’re exhausted. Petrified. Lost. Angry. Empty. Melancholic. Dammit, what emotion should you be feeling? It’s overwhelming—the tightness in your throat is terrifying. Your lungs constrict and you find yourself sprinting to what you know best. What you hold closest to your heart. Maybe it can give you answers. It’s late. It’s midnight. You wonder what’s going on in there. But you don’t wait to figure it out.

You heavily drag your legs up the third flight of stairs. They know their way. Like there were magnets in your blood for the iron in his—your body traveled its way to his dorm. You lifelessly plastered yourself against the wooden tampered door, knocking without any pattern in mind. Just a few brief ones are enough, right? No, your mind is panicking. It recognizes the anxiety rushing through you. How you shake, gasp for air, look around furiously due to the fear of impending doom. Was this a panic attack?

“Y/n? What’s going on?" Yes. This was all you needed. You craved his voice—his touch—just him. His hand immediately reached out to grab your face, thumb grazing over your bloodied lip. “Oh my god, why are you bleeding from your mouth? Did he fucking hit you?” You spasticity shake your head, dismissing his worst-case-scenario mindset. You grip onto his shirt, pressing your face into his chest as you heave.

“Is she okay?” “What’s going on?” “Is that your date?” You recognize all of their voices. Their voices would be soothing to your soul if you weren’t crying your eyes out.

“What the hell… I’m so sorry. Just hold onto me, okay?” You nod and let your legs give out, but he’s quick to react and follows you to the ground. You curl up haphazardly into his lap on the floor, face still pressed against his chest, hands pulling even harder at his shirt. They later slide down to his flexed abdomen as your body gives out more and more with each passing second. Eventually, you’re crying into his lap pathetically, gasping for air, arms snug tight around his lower waist.

“Give us space,” Jimin spoke up, sternly telling the boys to leave. You could hear their bare footsteps quickly flee the scene. He looked around, holding onto you even tighter once the room grew empty. He eventually pulled you up off the floor and into his arms, settling the two of you onto the couch. “Talk to me. What happened.” He cooed, running his hands through your hair as you sat in his lap. You’d never been this close with him before. You could tell he really enjoyed your close company, even if it consisted of your snot and blood smearing on his freshly ironed shirt. “Y/n…” he whispered, tapping under your chin, signaling that he wanted to see your face. “What happened?” He repeated patiently. Eventually, your eyes fluttered open, finally meeting his gaze for what seemed like ages. His eyes pooled with guilt and gloom. Speckles of light-reflecting tears trickled down his flushed cheeks, merging into blobs on his jawline. His face sparkled underneath his bleached bangs that covered his cheekbones. He looked so pretty. And thankfully he was bent over, his hair hanging over the two of you so it was made possible to bask in his jabuticaba eyes. The corner of his lip couldn’t help but twitch, sudden merriment washed over him. At the moment, he realized how much you meant to him. How he’d never let anything happen to you ever again. And at that moment, he promised to himself that he’d never let you out of his sight again. “You still look at me the same. I missed you.” He whispered fondly.

“Of course I look at you the same” you whined, nuzzling further into his neck. He just hummed in approval, pulling you further up into his lap so your legs swung over to either side of his thighs. Your knees dug uncomfortably into the couch cushion. You didn’t care. You needed this. “Can I stay with you? I heard you had a date?” You mumbled against his skin. He faintly shivered as you wet your lips, accidentally skimming his neck.

“I’d drop everything for you. We need each other.” He contently sighed, pressing his face against yours as he gingerly dragged his nails along your back, etching shapes into your shirt. “I wasn’t going to let you leave anyway, hun.” You smiled against his skin at the all too familiar pet name. With your mind now slightly content, you looked up at him coyly. You noted how he was returning a similar expression. That’s when you both realized the skies opened up once again. It was like the Gods had plucked stars from the night sky and delicately placed them within his eyes. The way they glimmered under the shade of his dark lashes was hypnotic and alluring. You observed the (somewhat) innocent desire that overcast his vision. His eyes weren’t chaste, that much was for sure. Maybe what convinced you it was partially lust was the pressure building against your inner right thigh.

“Please. I only want you.” You cut him off, eyes trailing down his softened face to his lips. You studied the fullness of them. How flushed and plump they seem. How they shimmered in the faintly lit room. Saliva coating them after his tongue peeked out, dragging along his lower lip. His lips parted, allowing shallow breaths to escape them. That’s when your skin prickled with heat. Your nerve endings grew keen to touch. Heart rate soaring to dangerous levels. Not necessarily dangerous for your body, but your sanity. You knew he felt your heart thud against his own chest. You could feel his. It matched yours effortlessly. Your lips unconsciously divided for his, heads naturally tilting to the side, hands sliding up one another’s bodies, halting on damp tear-stained faces. You were holding one another so fondly, fingertips brushing against cheeks, eyes snapping shut, mouths moving in simultaneously. He felt so soothing. So warm against you. He whined as he tasted the metal tang of your blood mixed with your saliva. He felt guilty that the taste was so intimate and real to him. Fluttering wings of butterflies tormented your body when he let out an erotic sigh inside your mouth. You shivered greatly, your body completely overwhelmed with the intimate sensation. You weren’t anxious, not one bit. You were being engulfed in new waters. You were sinking, mouth fighting to stay above, hands moving down to drive through the waves. Is he figuring out how to move against the waves too? How to control his breathing? Your hands press against his heated chest, noting how they rise and fall with each shaky breath. You felt his tongue slip in like you had accidentally swallowed a wave. You were finally accepting the oceans power. It was tempting. Think about how relaxing it would be to finally give in. Become one with the current. Never fighting the water again. “I love you.” You cried, rushing in, driving your mouth deeper into his, hands slipping underneath the waves. Feeling the warmth of the sun-reflecting waters against your hands and arms. Arms trapping themselves under the tightness of his shirt. You dug your nails into his skin. You felt the reply of the ocean. It welcomed you with open arms and agreed to tend to you. You two were now one entity. You felt arms envelope you, and you began to float. Your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. You didn’t kick. You didn’t fight. You clung to him like he was all you had. And in actuality, he was all you had currently.

“M-my room.” He pulled away, gasping, body shuddering against yours. “Can I have you?” He panted, arms jolting you upward to press his forehead against yours. You nodded, pants colliding with his in the space between you two. Frantically, he rushed through the hallway, eyes bolting about to make sure he wouldn’t trip, fingers digging into your thighs to hold you in place. His arms shaking a little—maybe from the adrenaline, maybe from the physical weakness that overthrew his being after finally getting to kiss you. You heard the door shut—the wood meeting its counterpart with an alarming bang. In the blink of an eye, he was towering over you, gasping, licking his lips, and tugging at his skinny jeans, doing everything in his power to control himself. “Give me a moment.” He let out a shaky sigh, gaze falling down to his lap as he palmed at his hard-on, attempting to adjust and hide it. He sat back on his knees, legs tucked under himself, toes digging into the sheets, heels pressed against his rear. His hands rose, brushing back his hair from his face. You forgot how unbelievably beautiful he was. “Are you sure about this? I thought this stuff made you nervous?” He asked, letting his hands fall to his knees as he sat between your legs.

“Jimin…” you muttered, torso leaning up, forearms tangling in the sheets. “I always wanted you to be my first.” You admitted, blushing, and staring deeply into him for a reaction. He just cockily smirked, compelling you to laugh. You knew what he was saying: he knew that from the very beginning. You two spoke through subtle expressions: cocking of the eyebrows, softening eyes, smirking in various manners. You two still connected on that level—and it didn’t surprise you.

“I’ll take it slow. I want to show you how much you mean to me.” He sighs. It’s barely on the verge of a moan. “Can I take this off?” He tugs on the material of your grey sweats down by your calves. You simply smile in response, lightly tossing your head to adjust the hair that frames your face. His eyes hungrily wander before his hands do. He leans over, pressing his hands into your hips, hesitantly sliding his fingers under the waistband. His hands are clammy as they drag along the soft skin of your waist. His pinkie finger briefly tugs on your thong as he slowly drags down your pants. “Sorry.” He gulps, pulling back up your underwear with a shocked expression. He continues dragging down the material at a teasing rate until he reaches your knees. He kneads at your thighs lovingly, watching as you squirm under him nervously. “You’re so pretty.” He stares at your clothed core in awe, taking note of the darker discoloration of your red panties. His eyes suddenly squeeze shut and you assume he’s composing himself. Unexpectedly, his torso falls flat on the bed, your legs are hiked upon his shoulders, and he’s kissing down your thighs greedily. “So soft. So beautiful.” You whimper out loud, briefly catching his attention. “This area sensitive?” He ponders to himself, licking a gentle stripe on your inner thigh, nibbling at the dampened skin. He might be tending to your thighs, but his eyes haven’t left the slickness of your center. It’s so tempting to dive in headfirst, but he knows he can’t rush with you. Not someone as innocent as you. You were so seraphic in his eyes. Innocent, at heart—childlike, but attentive with your actions. You were an angel taking form as his best friend.

“Jimin, I need you. Please...” His head snaps up inquisitively. It takes him a moment to realize you were referring to being ate out. You were begging for him to tongue-fuck you. To make you cum on his face. The thought of it nearly made him moan. He nodded in response and his hands jolted foreword, cleanly ripping off the layer separating his lips from yours.

“So fucking wet for me. So cute and untouched.” He mumbles against the wetness coating your folds. “You taste so good…” he groaned, dragging his tongue up and barely through your lips, stopping at your clit. You whimpered, locking your ankles behind his head, lightly squeezing him with your thighs at the new sensation. “Hold me if you need to.” The caring gesture of his hand reaching for yours warmed your heart. Your hand squeezed his, a few trailing fingers gripping his wrist tightly. “My hair, silly.” He smiled, moving your hand to his hair. His hand fell back, squeezing your hip to pull you into his mouth. You yelped, clenching around nothing as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently at the bud. His free hand made its way to your dripping folds and smeared it about, threatening to enter each time they grazed over your hole. “You’re dripping, hun.” He gasped, pulling away to catch his breath before losing himself inside of you. His tongue invaded your lips. He was entranced by the way your hips rhythmically jolted into his mouth, hands roughly tugging at his hair, crying out with each subtle movement of his tongue. “So sensitive.” He mumbled into you and it reverberated inside your core, briefly heightening your sensitivity. He moved away, his tongue leaving you empty and trembling. You gasped when you felt a finger enter your core. It pushed through the tightness of your walls, your lubrications, and his saliva aiding it in its path upward. “Fucks sake.” Jimin groaned, licking his lips as you quivered around his index finger. He glanced up to your face, losing himself completely in your fucked out state. He wanted to see you lose your cool. He wanted to hear his name fall from your pretty lips. And by the state of you currently, he knew it wasn’t going to take much. He confidently slid in another finger, curling them as he pulled out, flexing them straight as he dug them deeper, repeating the process.

“Jimin! Ah, fuck!” You moaned, practically screaming. His name continued to fall from your lips and he quickly pulled his lips from their current spot against your clit. He wanted to watch your face contort in ecstasy. His eyes were half-lidded with lust, panting, and inaudibly whining with you. He couldn’t help it. He felt like he was watching a porno. You were that hot.

“You gonna cum for me? Hm?” He moaned, adjusting the angle he was hitting you at, driving his fingers against your rough patch. If you weren’t already choking him with your thighs, you certainly were now. “Easy, doll.” He cooed, turning his head to suck on your inner thigh as his free hand came up to pry your legs open. You begged him to let you cum. But, there was no reason for you to beg for your release. He was gonna make you cum (whether you wanted it or not). You were more vocal than ever, turning him into a horny young boy once again, igniting the young and giddy feeling within him, just like old days. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you cum.” He smirked to himself, driving deeper inside of you and suddenly circling clockwise on your clit with his other hand, roughly stimulating your orgasm. “Be a good girl and cum for me, okay? Don’t hold back.” With his simple words, punctuated just right, he had you toppling over the edge and squeezing his fingers alarmingly tight. He rubbed and fingered you through your orgasm, pushing aside the powerfully intruding thoughts of tearing off your clothes and fucking you senseless. After coming down from your high, the stimulation became far too much to handle, so you whimpered and removed your legs from his shoulders, pressing your knees into his chest, shyly looking away, arms coming up to cross over your face. “Oh, honey. You’re so beautiful, don’t hide from me.” He chuckled, crawling next to you to cradle you against his heated body. He snaked an arm underneath you, pulling in on your head to press it against his chest. “Relax. It’s okay.” He could feel the anxiety coursing inside of you just by how your body faintly trembled and your hands reaching up to hold him. “Did I do okay?” He asked, desperately craving reassurance. He wanted to treat you like a princess, you weren’t just some fuck toy like the other girls on campus (or what his date was going to be.)

“Don’t worry, it felt amazing. But… don’t you need to be pleased too?” You suggested, pulling back to find his eyes. They were dark with animalistic lust. The way his fingers caressed your hip and traveled down your thigh briefly gave you a different vibe, however. He was so gentle with you despite mentally ravishing you.

“Question is, do you want me, y/n?” He asked, pressing his lips to yours in a comforting manner, his hand tugging on the dip in your waist. The kiss was soft and sweet, speaking a thousand words he was never able to once say. You nodded, acknowledging his gentle act. You rolled onto your back, tossing and locking your legs behind his lower back to keep him against you. “Missed me that much, huh?” He responded, latching his lips onto your neck, leaves splotches of salvia, and developing bruises. “I want him to see these.” You hummed in a confused tone, opting for him to repeat himself more clearly. “I want you to show Chris that you belong to me.” You shivered at how possessive he came across.

It might seem toxic to some, but you always adored having someone who would go to the ends of the earth for you, threatening to destroy anyone who touched you.

Because you belonged to him, there was no going around it.

You always had belonged to him.

that hug from run bts will stay with me forever ♥

you got that long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt 😳

+ i’m fine im not in love with him or anything

:)