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Just when you thought the week couldn’t get any worse, the universe loved to prove you wrong. Your friends practically dragged you out of your apartment for another double date, and of course, you had to bring Jimin along.
You despised how much he was enjoying this. It made you sick to your stomach. You wanted to sink into the ground and disintegrate.
Your friends were so invested in your “relationship” now, all thanks to Jimin and his improvising. Although you told him to improvise because you were truly too lazy to come up with a fake backstory, this was just going too far.
But it was too late. You couldn’t dig yourself out of the deep shit you were in now. You might as well play along with the torture until you could get away.
The movie theater was another place you hated with a passion. It wasn’t top five, but it was up there. You hated restaurants, parks, skating rinks. They were all places contaminated with love. Luckily, you were a homebody and liked staying in, so you wouldn’t be cursed with the same fate of falling in love.
Were you a D1 hater? Yes. And you never denied it. Why be in love when you could spend your time doing things for yourself?
Why did everyone practically depend on a man for their happiness?
You didn’t understand it, and you quite literally didn’t want to.
You didn’t want a man. Didn’t need one.
That didn’t mean you didn’t have standards, though.
If you ever did want one, he couldn’t just be some random dickhead with a nice face. You’d rather stay single than wake up one day and realize you’d accidentally adopted a grown-ass man.
The bar was already in hell, and somehow men still managed to limbo underneath it.
But thankfully, you didn’t want one anyway.
You liked your peace.
A misandrist is what they’d call you. But you were self-aware and didn’t give one fuck, two fucks, red fucks, or blue fucks about what anyone else thought about your decisions.
If hell was real, men were the first individuals that needed to go there. Slow roast in the deepest depths of hell, even. The world would be a better place without them, like you’d always believed to your core.
The universe, as always, was clearly against what you wanted and what you stood for. Your friends dragged you out to the movie theater for a romance movie. Not comedy, not horror, not even action. ROMANCE. A romance movie out of all things they could’ve chosen for a date night.
Fuck your life. The universe loved actively working against you, and you hated it. If you turned and walked out of the theater, maybe they wouldn’t notice.
Internally, you were losing your shit about being dragged to the movie theater for romance.
You all walked up to the counter to pay for your tickets. You reached into your bag for your wallet, already pulling out your card.
“I got it.” Before you could even respond, Jimin handed his card to the cashier.
You looked at him.
“Jimin—”
“I got both.”
You gave him a look that could’ve killed him.
He only smiled.
“What?”
You stared at him, silently hoping he could read the very clear what the fuck are you doing? written all over your face.
He leaned closer, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“I’m not gonna let my girlfriend pay for her own ticket.”
“Girlfriend?” you mouthed.
He nodded, pleased with himself.
“Girlfriend.”
You wanted to kill him.
Unfortunately, your friends were standing right there, so you had to swallow your rage and force a smile.
“That’s so sweet,” your friend said.
You smiled through gritted teeth.
“Yeah. So sweet.”
Jimin glanced at you, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Anything for my girl.”
You nearly fucking choked.
Your eye twitched. You looked around to make sure your friends weren’t paying attention before glaring at him.
“Don’t ever call me your girl again.”
Jimin looked at you, completely unbothered.
“Why?”
“Because it’s fucking disgusting.”
“You looked cute.”
You stared at him.
“I fucking hate you.”
He smiled.
“I know.”
You rolled your eyes and walked ahead of him, still irritated.
You couldn’t believe this man. He was getting way too comfortable with this whole fake boyfriend shit. The worst part was how easily he slipped into the role. It was fucking annoying.
You followed everyone into the theater, tickets in hand, and found your seat.
You dropped into it and leaned back, already regretting agreeing to come.
You should’ve just stayed home.
The movie started out as how all generic, corny romance movies start, FML can’t think for herself and makes her life all about love and she meets a boy, that type of generic shit. Nothing you hadn’t seen before.
You rolled your eyes and slouched in your already laid-back seat. Honestly? Twilight was better than this slop. It was cornier, but it was the movie series of the century that made all teenage girls go crazy.
You were grown up now, and you didn’t like the movie that much looking back. It had so much potential to be greater than it was. And if Stephenie Meyer didn’t have Jacob imprint on Edward and Bella’s child, Resume, you would’ve still liked it.
That shit still pissed you off to this day.
“This shit is fucking terrible,” you mumbled to yourself. You looked to your left to see your friend and their boyfriend already eating each other’s faces off.
You almost threw up. You had to look away. Unfortunately, your eyes landed on another couple two rows ahead.
Why was everyone so fucking affectionate? Is personal space not a thing anymore?? You glanced toward Jimin. He was sitting next to you comfortably, enjoying the movie. You hated him a bit for that.
“I know I’m handsome, you don’t have to stare.”
He looked at you, then back at the screen.
You scrunched your face up.
“I’d rather swallow a thumbtack than admit that.”
“That sounds painful.”
“So is listening to you talk. But you don’t hear me complaining.”
Jimin shook his head, laughing, before turning back toward the screen.
You crossed your arms and looked at the screen, forcing yourself to watch the movie. You wanted to cringe so hard, but you had no other choice.
Jimin shifted beside you before reaching over and grabbing your hand.
You snatched it back so fast you nearly elbowed him.
“What the fuck?”
He looked at you like you were the weird one.
“What?”
“Why did you just grab my hand?”
“Because we’re on a date.”
“So?”
“So we’re supposed to look like we’re dating.”
“We’re sitting in a dark theater. Nobody can fucking see us.”
“I can see us.”
You stared at him.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“And you’re making it weird.”
“Holding hands is weird?”
“With you? Yes. You’re annoying. And because I don’t want you touching me.”
You glared at him, but he was just smiling.
“You’re doing this shit on purpose now.” You gave him a dry look.
“Doing what?”
“Pissing me off.”
Jimin leaned over and whispered in your ear.
“You’re cute when you’re annoyed. Makes things entertaining.”
You shook your head, shooing him away.
You couldn’t stand him. And you knew that he knew it. You could feel him smiling beside you, and it pissed you off more.
You turned your attention back to the screen, hoping the movie would somehow become less insufferable.
It didn’t.
If anything, it somehow got worse. Literally anything was better than suffering through this bullshit.
Paying crackheads on the block to race each other was more entertaining than this. But you had to suffer in silence.
After what felt like hours of torture, the movie was finally over, and you were ready to bolt.
You practically shot out of your seat the second the credits started rolling.
You used to pray for times like this.
You grabbed your bag and stood up, ready to leave before another second of romance could infect you.
“Damn. You couldn’t wait?”
You looked at Jimin.
“No.”
“You didn’t wanna see the credits?”
“Why the fuck would I?”
“Some people like watching them.”
“Those people need mental help.”
Jimin laughed as he stood up, following you out of the row.
You stepped out into the lobby and took a deep breath.
Fresh air. Technically, it was still recycled theater air, but it was better than whatever the fuck was happening in there.
You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and started walking toward the entrance.
“You’re acting like you just escaped solitary confinement.”
“Feels like it.”
“It was two hours.”
“Two hours too long. Watching corny-ass romance slop was not how I planned my night to go. Literally anything else was better than this.”
You kept walking toward the entrance, practically counting down the seconds until you could finally leave.
Your friends weren’t nearly as eager to escape as you were. They moved slower, stopping every few feet to check their phones, fix their bags, and figure out where everyone was going next.
You were ready to go home.
Actually, you had been ready to go home about twenty minutes into the movie.
The only thing that kept you from walking out was the fact that your friends would’ve followed you just to drag you back inside.
You pulled your phone out and checked the time.
You sighed.
You looked around the parking lot, watching people slowly leave the theater.
Couples were everywhere.
Of course they were.
A couple walked past you holding hands.
You didn’t understand why people couldn’t simply exist next to each other without touching.
It was like the second people got into relationships, they forgot how to have personal space.
You glanced toward Jimin.
He was standing a few feet away, scrolling through his phone.
He looked relaxed.
You watched him for a few seconds longer than you intended.
He looked different when he wasn’t talking.
Usually, Jimin was always doing something.
Talking. Smiling. Teasing you.
Finding some new way to piss you off.
But, he was quiet.
His attention was focused on his phone, his expression relaxed.
You wondered if he was always like this when he wasn’t around you.
Probably.
You barely knew anything about him outside of the version you’d created in your head based on the little you’d seen.
You knew his name.
You knew what he looked like.
You knew he was annoyingly good at pretending to be your boyfriend.
You knew he could somehow remember every little detail you told him.
But that was about it.
And honestly, you preferred it that way.
The less you knew, the easier it was to keep everything separate.
There was you.
There was him.
And then there was whatever weird arrangement the two of you had going on.
Nothing more.
You looked away.
You didn’t know why you were thinking about it so much.
It wasn’t important.
He was doing a job.
That’s all.
You paid him.
He pretended.
Eventually, the contract would end.
You’d thought this arrangement would be easy.
A few dates.
A few fake stories.
A little pretending.
Then it would be over.
You hadn’t considered what would happen if people actually started believing it.
You hadn’t considered what would happen if your friends got attached to him.
Or worse. What would happen if you got used to him.
You immediately shut that thought down.
No. That wasn’t happening.
You weren’t getting attached.
You were just dealing with the consequences of your own laziness.
That’s all. That was the only explanation.
You should’ve known better than to let someone else handle the details of your fake relationship. The second you told Jimin to improvise, you had essentially handed him the keys to your own downfall.
Now your friends thought you had some deep, romantic love story.
You didn’t even remember half the bullshit he had made up.
Somehow, he did.
That was another thing that irritated you.
One date was already too many.
Two was pushing it.
Whatever came after this was just fucking harassment.
You’d rather spend your weekends doing whatever the fuck you wanted.
That sounded like freedom.
Love sounded like unpaid labor.
And you were already tired.
You’d never voluntarily come back to a theater for a romance movie.
Actually, you probably wouldn’t voluntarily come back here at all.
At this rate, you were going to have to stop leaving your apartment altogether.
That didn’t sound half bad.
You could stay home forever.
No men. No dating. No romance. No problems.
You were perfectly happy alone.
You’d die on that hill. Preferably alone.
Tonight just proved your point. Romance was a scam, men were annoying, and you were perfectly capable of ruining your own life without anyone’s help.
Unfortunately, you had a feeling the universe wasn’t finished fucking with you yet.
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. But it was finally here. You’d been on a lot of dates before, so you didn’t understand why you were nervous.
He was gorgeous in his photos, but what if he was a catfish and he was ugly IRL? That was impossible. For a man that looked as ethereal as Jimin did, being ugly wasn’t in his vocabulary.
Your friends told you to meet them at the fair. So that’s where you told Jimin to meet you. You were lowkey panicking.
Snap out of it, this is a MAN. No need to be nervous around a man when your only life goal was to continue to contribute to the male loneliness epidemic.
You snapped out of it and stood by one of the fair tents waiting for him. You had intentionally dressed bummy today—you didn’t feel like putting in any effort to meet him, and the only thing you were doing tonight was convincing your friends that you had a boyfriend so they could leave you alone.
“You decided not to dress the part, I see?” You heard a smooth voice say from behind you.
You snapped your head around to see Jimin walking towards you, flashing a smile.
God, the reviews weren’t lying. This man was beautiful. He was the type of man that would make any gender fall in love with him. You kept your composure anyway. You had to remind yourself that this was just a temporary transaction until you were in the clear to be happily single.
You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t feel like it. I see you overdressed.” You shot back, looking down at his outfit.
“You noticed what I was wearing though, didn’t you?”
You rolled your eyes again. He was sassy as fuck. You HATED that.
“Well, obviously I would, since you’re standing in front of me.”
He chuckled, stepping closer to you. “Maybe I just wanted to look good for you.” He winked.
Ew. EW. You were not gonna let this man get you out of character. Wasn’t happening.
“Please. No need to try. I don’t like you.” You gave him a dry look.
“You don’t? Damn. At least you’re thinking about me.”
This man was cocky as fuck and it got on your nerves. He wasn’t even here for five whole minutes and you were already regretting every choice that brought you here.
“I’m thinking about how aggravating you are, really.” You scoffed.
“Still thinking about me.” He smirked at you.
You shivered in pure disgust. “Save your flirting for when my friends actually get here.”
Before he could fire back, you heard your name being yelled across the crowded fairgrounds. Oh thank fuck. They were here and you could hurry and get this nightmare over with so you could go back home and continue House of Dragons.
You turned and spotted your friends walking towards you. Jimin looked over at them, then at you.
“Are those your friends?”
“Yes, they’re the whole reason why your ass is here.”
“Right.”
“Don’t overdo the boyfriend thing. Don’t say anything weird, just act normal.”
He smiled, unbothered. “You’re bossy.”
Gag. You wanted to gag. The thought of this man flirting with you disgusted you to your core. Although it was technically in his job description, it sent shivers down your spine.
“Just act normal. I don’t trust you enough not to make this weird.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t trust me.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but your friends were already approaching. One of them looked between you two and gasped.
“Is this him? Your boyfriend?”
You forced a smile. “Yup.”
Jimin smiled and threw his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side before flashing a smile and introducing himself to your friends. Your friend looked at you, then back at him, then back at you.
“You didn’t tell me he was fucking gorgeous.”
“I didn’t think that detail was important.”
Jimin looked down at you, winking. “Come on, baby, that was important.”
You looked up at him with a death glare. But he just smiled.
“How long have you been dating?” your friend asked.
You began to speak, but Jimin cut you off, improvising a whole background story on the spot as your friends asked questions. He did it so smoothly, even you almost bought it.
After questioning Jimin, your friends began to disperse around the fair, dragging their boyfriends along and leaving you and Jimin trailing behind. Your brain completely clocked out.
Oh fuck.
You realized you hadn’t planned ahead. You didn’t plan any activities. You figured you’d just show him off to your friends to shut them up and then bail. That was the entire plan. You hadn’t actually thought about what would happen after they saw him.
Your friends started walking towards the food stands with their boyfriends, as you let out a heavy sigh and followed behind them. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Instead of being home and rubbing your feet together like the original plan called for, you were stuck with the man you were paying to pretend to be your boyfriend.
“You don’t seem very excited for our first date.” He teased, pulling you closer to his side.
“It’s not a date.” You hissed under your breath, glaring daggers at the passing couples carrying giant stuffed teddy bears they won at the game booth.
Ew. The amount of love that was in the air was repulsive. You were still just as ready to go home as you were before.
“We’re at a fair together, that sounds like a date to me.” He pointed out smoothly, dropping his chin down to look at your sour expression.
“Well, that’s because I’m paying you, smartass. I didn’t pay you to be Romeo and me Juliet.” You let out a heavy sigh, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.
He tightened his arm around your waist as you walked, abruptly stopping at a game booth with the giant stuffed animals. He smirked and looked down at you.
“Want me to win you one?”
“No. I don’t want it.” He shook his head, ignoring you.
“This is a date, isn’t it right for your boyfriend to win you a prize?”
You rolled your eyes.
“Temporary. You are my temporary boyfriend. Never forget that.”
He just flashed a smile again. “I’m gonna win you something anyway.” He said before releasing you and stepping up to the counter.
You groaned and followed behind him, watching him as he began playing. He was surprisingly good at this, but you expected it because that was his hustle. You just wanted to go home. You didn’t plan on being trapped here for more than an hour.
House of Dragons was more important.
You could care less about impressing your friends, but you wanted to because you were sick and tired of watching your friends and their boyfriends eat each other’s faces off in front of you. You wanted to throw up in their faces, honestly.
Love was disgusting, men were even worse. Your last relationship was a special kind of hell. He was bad at everything INCLUDING sex. And worst of all, he wasn’t even loyal. He fucked anything that walked. And you meant ANYTHING walking.
“Here.” Jimin’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
You blinked, looking up to see him approaching with a huge stuffed elephant. You glared at the elephant, then at him.
“I told you I didn’t want your crusty prize.”
He shoved the elephant in your arms anyway and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “It’s for you. So when you look at the stuffie, you can think of me.”
You never wanted more than to just kick him where the sun doesn’t shine more than you did right now.
“Or you can just save it for the next person naive enough to fall for you. That doesn’t seem like a bad idea,” you retorted sarcastically. You hated that he kept trying to make you feel queasy, and it made you cringe hard.
“I won it for you, so you keep it.” He wasn’t gonna let up. Defeated, you finally gave in.
“Fine. As soon as I get home, that’s going in the closet and it will never see the light of day again.” You flashed a fake smile.
He just shrugged. “As long as you took it, that was enough for me.” He slung his arm back around your waist, guiding you towards the Ferris wheel.
The Ferris wheel. You’d seen people get proposed to up there. You’d seen people have their first kisses there. To you, the Ferris wheel was cursed with love. And you hated it with a passion.
“No. Go by yourself.” You snapped, stopping in your tracks and glaring at him.
“Why? Are you scared of heights?”
You shook your head.
“No, not scared. I just don’t wanna go.”
You treated the Ferris wheel like it had the cooties all over every single inch of it. Which it did. In every corny romance movie you’d seen, almost every character fell in love at the top of a Ferris wheel. And you refused to let yourself be one of those characters.
“All of your friends are getting on, so why don’t we?”
You scoffed. “That’s because my friends are in relationships and they are disgustingly in love. WE,” you said, gesturing between the two of you, “are not in love. We are not in a relationship.”
He looked at you completely unfazed. “You’re paying me to be here. I might as well make it worth your while so you can get your money’s worth, huh?” He winked.
Every time he did that, you wanted to throw up so hard.
“I’m already regretting my life decisions and what led up to this exact moment right now, actually. So making it worth my while? Save that.”
He just laughed and continued to drag you along with him.
“Come on, baby, let’s give them a show at least before we leave.”
You never wanted to fucking drop-kick a man as much as you wanted to drop-kick Jimin right now. You specifically told him not to overdo the boyfriend thing, but here he was proceeding to overdo it anyway. Make it worth your while, your ass. This was nowhere near thrilling. Nor was this what you planned.
He continued to the long line at the Ferris wheel, getting in the queue. The line went fast. You zoned out during that time you were standing there, not realizing it was your turn to get on until it was too late.
Before you could bolt, he pulled his arm from your shoulders and grabbed your hand, pulling you up the stairs to get into the car. He sat you down next to him. You shot him a death glare and scooted as far into the corner of the car as you could, looking out the window.
You should’ve run. You could’ve avoided this altogether.
The Ferris wheel began turning, and the higher it climbed, the more you wanted to open the door and hurl yourself out.
“It’s not that bad,” Jimin said, laughing softly.
You rolled your eyes, not even glaring at him. You both sat in silence as the Ferris wheel quietly rotated around. You looked down through the glass to see your friends watching you from the ground below.
Suddenly, you felt a breath close behind your ear. In your peripheral vision, you saw Jimin’s head, his eyes locking onto yours. He leaned in close and before you could dodge away, you felt his lips against your cheek.
Your eyes widened.
“I told you we’d give them a show, didn’t I?”
You looked at him and saw him looking down at you with a smirk.
There was nothing in this world you wanted more than to kill him. But you forced yourself to remember he was just doing his job. No matter how much you despised every second of it, you had to bear it. You did pay him to do this, after all.
You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh. You flashed a fake smile at him.
“I think we’ve convinced them enough now, thanks.”
The Ferris wheel finally reached the bottom. The second the car stopped, you practically jumped out.
“Thank God,” you muttered, stepping onto the platform. The torture was finally over. You were finally ready to go home.
Jimin followed behind you.
“You really hated that?”
“Every single second of it, honestly.”
You spotted your friends waiting near the exit and immediately headed towards them, hoping and praying to the universe that they were ready to leave.
Instead, they immediately pointed toward the exit parking lot, but not to go home.
“We should all go bowling after this.”
Your fake smile dropped. You slowly turned towards Jimin. He was already looking at you with that stupid smile.
“Bowling?”
Your friend nodded. “There’s a place not too far from here.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Jimin beat you to it.
“That sounds fun.”
He stood next to you, securely wrapping his arm around your waist. You clutched the giant elephant stuffie tight.
You slowly looked up at him.
This fucking man.
You had come here with one goal. To convince your friends you had a living, breathing boyfriend, go home, rub your feet together, and binge House of Dragons in peace. Somehow, you’d managed to accomplish the first part and completely fuck up everything else.
You looked down at the elephant. Then at Jimin.
You hated it here.
The bowling alley was packed when you walked in, the sound of pins crashing echoing through the building.
You already hated how this night was going, and you thought it couldn’t get any worse. But unfortunately, the universe loved to prove you wrong.
You thought your friends would just meet Jimin, see that you had a boyfriend, and get off your ass. Not ask to hang out with said boyfriend. You were annoyed as fuck. You were already exhausted and asking yourself why you agreed to this in the first place.
One of your friends called to get rental shoes, already heading to the counter. You sighed and followed behind them, still carrying the giant stuffed elephant Jimin had won for you.
You looked down at it.
You fucking hated that thing.
“You could admit that you like it. I promise I won’t be mad.”
You looked up at Jimin, who was walking beside you with a grin on his face.
“I don’t like it.”
“But you’re still carrying it.”
“That’s because you shoved it into my fucking arms.”
“And you didn’t think to just put it down anywhere?”
“No shit, Sherlock. I don’t exactly have a free hand to put it down.” You scoffed.
He hummed, clearly not believing you.
You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to your friends, who were already grabbing their bowling shoes. You grabbed your own pair of shoes and followed them towards your assigned lane.
You sat the giant stuffie on the leather couch and sat down.
“Are we doing couples teams?” Your friend asked.
You immediately stopped.
“No.” Everyone stopped and stared at you.
“No, as in… why the fuck would we do that?”
Your friend stared at you like the answer was obvious.
“Because you’re a couple?” Fuck, you almost forgot about your own lie.
You opened your mouth to snap back before remembering that, unfortunately, that was the entire reason Jimin was standing beside you to begin with.
“Right…”
You nodded, looking down at your bowling shoes on your feet. Jimin chuckled and sat down beside you on the couch.
“What’s wrong, baby? Don’t wanna be on a team with me?”
You shot him a side eye. You hated when he called you baby. It made your skin crawl.
“I’d rather die.”
Jimin laughed and shook his head.
“You really don’t like me, huh?”
“I thought that was pretty fucking obvious by now.”
“Fair enough.” He got up and grabbed a bowling ball, looking at you with that same stupid grin.
“Still doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you win.”
“I wasn’t planning on losing.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t take you for the competitive type.”
“I’m not.”
He looked at the score monitor, then back at you.
“Right.”
You rolled your eyes and watched him walk toward the lane. You didn’t care about bowling. You didn’t care about winning. And you definitely didn’t care about beating Jimin.
At least that’s what you told yourself.
You watched as he lined himself up before rolling the ball down the lane.
Strike.
You stared at the pins before looking back at him. Of course he got a fucking strike on his first try. This was bullshit.
Jimin turned around with the biggest smirk on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he grinned. “Just waiting to see if you can top that.”
You rolled your eyes and grabbed a bowling ball from the rack.
“Move.”
He laughed. “Your turn?”
“Obviously.”
“Good luck, baby.”
God, you hated when he called you that.
You walked toward the lane, gripping the ball a little tighter. You were going to beat him. Not because you cared. You just fucking hated losing. Especially to a MAN.
You lined yourself up again, staring at the pins. You took a breath and rolled the ball.
This time, you knocked down almost all of them.
“See?” you said, turning around. “I told you I knew how to bowl.”
Jimin looked at the pins, then back at you.
“You got lucky.”
“Lucky? I literally just watched you do it.”
“So you’re copying me now?”
“Oh my God.” You walked back over and sat down, already annoyed.
Your friend laughed. “Damn, look at the score.”
You sat there and glared at the monitor, regretting that you had even said anything. Because now you genuinely wanted to win this dumb-ass game, and you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you lost to him.
After a few more intense rounds, you looked up at the scoreboard.
Somehow, you were winning.
You looked at Jimin, then back at the scoreboard just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” he asked.
You pointed at the screen. “I’m winning.”
Jimin looked up at the scoreboard and laughed.
“You look way too happy about that.”
“Because I’m winning.”
“There’s still time.”
“Don’t fucking ruin this for me.”
He just laughed, looking from the scoreboard back to you with a slow, knowing smirk.
“What?” you snapped. “I beat you.”
He didn’t even say anything. He just raised an eyebrow and held your gaze, his face saying everything it needed to.
You hated him so much.
You opened your mouth to argue, but your friend suddenly walked over.
“We’re leaving.”
You looked at the clock on the wall and realized how late it had gotten.
“Finally.” You couldn’t wait to get home. You grabbed your things and stood up, but before you could leave, your friend looked between you and Jimin.
“We should all do this again.”
You froze.
“Again?”
“Yeah. That was fun.”
You looked at Jimin, hoping he’d say something. Anything that got you out of this.
Instead, he was smiling.
“I’m free whenever.”
You stared at him. Of course he fucking was.
Your friends started talking about what they should do next time, completely ignoring the fact that you were standing there trying to mentally evaporate from existence.
You just wanted to go home, get under your blanket, rub your feet together, and watch House of Dragons in peace.
Apparently, that was too much to ask for.
You looked down at the stupid stuffed elephant Jimin had won for you.
Then back up at Jimin.
This was gonna be the most agonizing week of your life.
WC: 3.1k
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author’s note ♡ I hope you guys like it so far <3
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"A single misstep in front of fifty thousand people...and the only one who noticed was the man driving you crazy."
Warnings: Sexual tension (that's that), Reader's in denial, Hobi's a tease, Smut (MDNI), Unprotected sex (BE SMART!) Oral sex (f & m receiving), Reader's whiny and pathetic for Hobi (LMAO) Sorta taboo?? (Idol x Backup dancer), Dom! Hobi x Sub! Reader.
🦋 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🦋 *
The stadium was a colossal, breathing organism of light and sound, tens of thousands of glowing purple ARMY bombs pulsing in unison like a sea of distant stars under the night sky. The sheer atmospheric pressure of the Arirang tour was enough to make your chest vibrate, the massive subwoofers beneath the staging sending a continuous, heavy concussive thump straight through the soles of your sneakers.
The stage lights cut through the haze with blinding electric intensity, flashing in sharp, synchronized bursts as the iconic, infectious instrumental beat of "Aliens" dropped over the speakers.
This gon' be the jam of the year (ay)
지루하고 따분해 모든 게 (모든 게)
시간은 참 빨라 tick-tock, stadium으로 집합
도대체 뭘 더 고민해? (고민해)
You were locked into your precise formation on the left wing of the main stage, your body moving with the practiced, razor-sharp muscle memory of months of grueling rehearsals. As part of BTS’s core backup dance crew, you lived in the margins of the spectacle, executing every pop, lock, and isolation with absolute precision while the members commanded the spotlight. But tonight, try as you might, your focus was entirely fractured.
Your eyes kept drifting.
Just a few yards away, moving with that lethal, effortless fluidity that always made your heart skip an irregular beat, was Jung Hoseok.
Under the stadium lights, he looked unreal. He wore the black leather trench coat left half-open over a bare chest draped in delicate, layered silver and pearl chains that caught every glint of light. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, and his styled hair was slightly damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead as he executed a series of sharp, blistering footwork patterns that left the crowd screaming. He radiated an intoxicating, untouchable confidence, owning the stage with every breath.
태생부터 다른 seven aliens (ay, ay)
우릴 부러워하네 저 civilians (ay, ay)
굳이 설명하기 입 아파, stadium
You were supposed to be keeping your gaze locked forward, tracking the geometric lines of the choreography, but your peripheral vision was entirely consumed by him. As he transitioned into a sharp body roll, sweeping his arm out and tilting his chin up with that signature, devastating smirk playing on his lips, you stared. You watched the way the leather coat billowed behind him, the way the silver chains shifted against his skin, the absolute mastery with which he moved.
Hello, this your, hello, this your new honey
박수 쳐, 흔들어, 중모리
It was a fraction of a second, a tiny lapse in concentration, but it was all it took.
When the formation shifted and you were supposed to pivot sharply to the right for the next downbeat, your left foot caught awkwardly on a seam of the stage flooring. The momentum of your body carried you forward, completely out of sync. Your ankle buckled under you with a sharp twist, and for one terrifying, heart-stopping moment, you completely lost your step, stumbling hard out of alignment as the crowd roared around you.
Your breath caught in your throat. Panic flared hot and sharp behind your ribs.
Scrambling instantly to correct yourself, you whipped your weight back onto your center, throwing your arm up to snap cleanly into the next movement just as the lyrics hit:
Oh, my God, do I look too funny?
뭐 어쩔래? Just move for me, yeah, move for me
You forced your face into the professional, high-energy performance expression required for the show, but your heart was hammering a frantic, deafening rhythm against your ribs. You risked a quick, terrified glance to your left and right.
Just two paces away, your close friend and fellow backup dancer, Minji, was executing the choreography with flawless, machine-like precision. She hadn't missed a beat. But as she swept past you in the next rotation, her eyes flicked sideways for a fraction of a second, locking onto yours with a knowing, highly expressive deadpan look before she snapped her gaze back to the front. She didn't say a word. She didn't break formation. She just kept moving, leaving you to sweat under the stage lights.
Further down the line, Hana caught the stumble too. A tiny, knowing smirk flashed across her face for half a second before she seamlessly transitioned into the next formation drop.
From the 가나가나 to the 하, 우리 보고 배워 놔, yeah, we aliens
If you wanna hit my house, 신발은 벗어 놔, yeah, we aliens
The music pushed forward with relentless momentum, carrying you along in its wake.
어쩜 그래 shameless? 예의를 차려, we aliens
해는 동쪽에서, risin' aliens, aliens
Across the stage, Hoseok hit a hard, dynamic freeze right on the heavy bass hit, his chest heaving slightly under the glittering chains as he caught the front camera feed. Even from a distance, the sheer magnetic pull of his presence was overwhelming. You swallowed hard, forcing every ounce of your remaining concentration back into your footwork, desperately trying to lock down your focus for the remainder of the track.
Every night, every day (ooh-ooh-ooh)
뭐든 더 빠르게 (ooh-ooh, ooh)
매일 밤새워 대 (ooh-ooh-ooh)
Yeah, we livin' that aliens, aliens
The chorus swelled, the stadium vibrating with the deafening cheers of fifty thousand fans. The choreography grew faster, more demanding, sweeping you up in a blur of motion, lights, and sweat.
Every night, every day (ooh-ooh-ooh)
뭐든 더 빠르게 (ooh-ooh, ooh)
시대가 우릴 원해 (ooh-ooh-ooh)
Yeah, we livin' that aliens, aliens
As the bridge bled into the final outro, the energy reached a fever pitch.
yeah, we land on it
(헛 둘) and stand on it
(헛 둘) 찍어 put that stamp on it
Stamp on it, stamp on it
With a final, synchronized pose that hit the exact millisecond the beat cut out, the entire stage plunged into a dramatic blackout, save for the cool wash of blue spotlights overhead and the roaring ocean of cheers from the audience.
For a second, nobody moved. The physical toll of the performance hung heavy in the air, thick with the scent of heat, adrenaline, and ozone.
"Alright, good job everyone, clear the stage, let's reset for the encore transition!" the stage manager’s voice crackled sharply through the hidden in-ear monitors.
Instantly, the backup dancers broke formation, turning in unison to march quickly off the back of the massive stage toward the shadowy labyrinth of the wings. The moment you crossed behind the heavy black velvet curtains, stepping out of the blinding glare of the stadium lights and into the cool, quiet safety of the backstage corridor, your knees felt remarkably weak.
You let out a long, shaky exhale, leaning your shoulder briefly against a flight case to catch your breath as you untangled the mic pack clipped to your waistband.
"Well," a smooth, teasing voice chimed in right beside you.
You turned your head to see Minji and Hana unzipping their matching tour jackets, walking side-by-side as they headed toward the dressing rooms. Minji offered you a slow, incredibly pointed smile, her dark eyes sparkling with wicked amusement.
"If we're wrong..." Minji started, tilting her head as she adjusted her ponytail.
"...you were definitely staring at J-Hope," Hana finished smoothly, picking right up without missing a beat as a chorus of muffled snickers rippled through the rest of the dance crew walking behind you.
Your face instantly caught fire, a burning, mortified heat rushing up from your collarbones straight to the tips of your ears.
"I was not staring," you snapped back defensively, crossing your arms over your chest as you forced your voice to sound completely steady, though your wildly hammering pulse completely betrayed you. "I missed my step because the stage flooring near the lift is slightly uneven, okay? It had nothing to do with—with anything else."
Minji let out a bright, unbelieving laugh, shaking her head as she patted your shoulder patronizingly. "Right. Uneven flooring. Mmhmm. Sure it was, babe. Come on, let's go change before the stylists murder us for being late."
They walked off down the hallway, giggling amongst themselves, leaving you standing alone in the shadows of the corridor. You squeezed your eyes shut for a brief second, pressing the cool palm of your hand against your burning cheek.
You knew they didn't believe a single word. And worse, deep down, as the memory of Hoseok under those stage lights flashed stubbornly through your mind, you didn't believe it either.
The heavy, sterile air of the backstage dressing room was a stark, jarring contrast to the roaring, sweat-soaked pandemonium of the stadium just beyond the heavy black curtains. Rows of costume racks lined the walls, and the harsh overhead vanity lights cast a clinical brightness over the chaos of quick changes, discarded jackets, and stylists rushing back and forth with clothing bags and makeup touch-up kits.
You dropped heavily onto a metal stool in front of your designated station, letting out a long, ragged exhale that sounded more like a hiss of pure frustration. Your muscles still throbbed with the residual adrenaline of the opening set, and your heart was stubbornly refusing to drop below a frantic, high-speed rhythm.
Minji was standing right behind your chair, unpinning her intricate stage braids with quick, practiced fingers while glaring at your reflection in the lit mirror.
"I'm just saying," Minji pressed, her voice dripping with a mix of amusement and teasing disbelief as she tossed a hair tie onto the counter. "It’s not like you’re plotting a bank heist or asking him to marry you on the spot. You’re literally part of his core dance line. You work with him every single day, hour after hour, sweating in the same studio. Walking up to him and telling him you thought his energy on stage tonight was cool is literally the most normal, casual thing in the world."
"Are you completely, utterly nuts?" you hissed, whipping around on the stool to stare up at her with wide eyes, your voice pitching into a defensive, panicked whisper. "It’s J-Hope. Have you seen him? Have you looked at him under those stadium lights wearing half a leather trench coat and a dozen diamond chains?"
"Yes, we've all seen him," Hana chimed in smoothly, walking past your station with a bottle of water in her hand, a knowing, wicked smirk playing across her lips. "The entire stadium saw him. And the entire crew saw you trip over your own feet during the third chorus because you were too busy eye-fucking him during Aliens."
"I did not eye-fuck him!" you groaned, burying your face hot with mortification in both hands as a fresh wave of heat rushed up your neck. "I tripped because the stage lift seam was raised by half an inch! It was a mechanical hazard!"
"Right, a mechanical hazard," Minji laughed, leaning down to rest her hands on your shoulders, giving them a playful, affectionate shake. "Look, babe, you're driving yourself crazy over nothing. He's a professional. If you walk over, give him a quick compliment about the set, and walk away, he isn't going to think twice about it. He hears it from thousands of people every single night anyway. To him, you're just one of his trusted dancers."
That last part... you're just one of his trusted dancers, stung with a strange, twisting irony that made your stomach churn.
It was true, objectively. To the rest of the world, to the thousands of screaming fans in the audience, and even to management, you were simply part of the professional machinery backing up global superstars. You shared studio sweat, grueling rehearsal hours, and synchronized formations. But it didn't feel professional anymore. Not after the lingering glances in the practice room mirror, the way his hand would brush yours just a fraction longer than necessary when reviewing choreography notes, and the electric, suffocating way he looked at you when the cameras finally stopped rolling.
"That's exactly why I can't do it," you mumbled into your hands, your voice muffled and desperate. "If I go up there and try to play it cool, my voice is going to shake, or I'll stare at his mouth, or I'll completely forget how to speak English or Korean at the same time. I'd rather die."
"You're being dramatic," Hana scoffed good-naturedly, tossing her empty water bottle into the recycling bin by the door. "You survived the main stage wardrobe malfunction scare of 2025, you can handle telling a guy he did a good job."
Before you could fire back another desperate excuse, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the background hum of the dressing room.
"Alright, ladies! Five-minute warning! Let's move, move, move! We are resetting for FYA right now!"
The stage manager’s voice echoed off the concrete walls with military precision, instantly transforming the relaxed, bantering atmosphere of the dressing room back into a high-stakes zone of urgency.
"Saved by the bell," Minji whispered with a teasing wink, stepping away from your chair and grabbing her fresh stage jacket off the rack. "Consider your execution postponed. But we're revisiting this conversation the second the show wraps tonight."
"I hate you both," you muttered, though a nervous, excited grin tugged at the corners of your lips despite yourself.
You scrambled up from the stool, shaking out your limbs to chase away the lingering stiffness in your muscles. You grabbed your spare headset mic from the counter, clipping it securely around your ear and adjusting the pack against the waistband of your cargo dance pants. You took one final, critical look in the mirror, smoothing down your hair, checking your makeup for any signs of sweat-smudging, and forcing your breathing to steady into a controlled, rhythmic pattern.
The cue lights mounted near the exit doors flashed from steady green to a rapid, pulsing amber.
Five minutes.
The collective energy of the backstage area instantly shifted gear. Dancers, stylists, and audio technicians began streaming out of the dressing rooms and into the dimly lit labyrinth of the backstage corridors, all moving with a synchronized, high-octane purpose toward the wings of the main stage.
As you fell into line behind Minji and Hana, weaving your way past heavy road cases and stacked lighting rigs, the low, distant rumble of the stadium seating began to vibrate through the floor once again. The massive crowd was roaring for the transition, the sound swelling into a wall of white noise that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.
This was it. No more time to overthink interactions, no more time to panic over stumbled steps. The next block of the set was coming fast, and the sprawling, neon-soaked world of the Arirang tour was swallowing you whole all over again.
The stadium lights shifted from the cool, electric blues of the previous block into a blinding, hyper-saturated wash of neon pinks and acid greens as the opening heavy synth bassline of "FYA" slammed through the massive arena speakers.
The crowd’s reaction was instantaneous—a deafening, earth-shaking roar that rattled the metal scaffolding overhead and sent a physical shockwave vibrating through the stage floor. You moved into your opening formation with automatic, razor-sharp precision, your body locking into the heavy, aggressive choreography of the track. The energy in the air was thick, electric, and entirely relentless.
As the first verse built up, the main platform elevator lifted smoothly from beneath the stage, bringing Jung Hoseok up into the blinding glare of the spotlights.
The crowd lost their minds. He was an absolute vision under the flashing lights, moving with a fluid, lethal confidence that commanded every single pair of eyes in the stadium. As he stepped forward to take center stage, delivering his rapid-fire bars with absolute mastery, the choreography naturally rotated the core backup dancers into a tight, dynamic framing around him.
Your heart hammered a frantic, deafening rhythm against your ribs. You kept your focus locked outward, hitting every sharp angle and isolation with fierce dedication, desperately trying to keep the memory of your earlier stumble out of your head.
Then, the formation shifted.
The routine required Hoseok to weave backward through the moving lines of dancers during the bridge, his path cutting directly past your wing of the formation. You pivoted smoothly on your heel, tracking the movement, but as he closed the distance, he didn't just pass by.
Hoseok slowed his pace by a fraction of a second, sliding right into your immediate space.
As he dropped low into a sharp body isolation, matching your movement step-for-step, he turned his head. The dark sunglasses he wore couldn't hide the devastating, knowing smirk that split across his face. He leaned in just an inch closer than the choreography called for, his breath hot against your ear as he delivered his next line straight into his mic pack, his voice dipping into a low, teasing register meant exclusively for you.
The proximity was suffocating. The sheer electricity radiating off him made your breath catch violently in your throat.
Out in the sea of thousands of fans, someone near the barricade caught the micro-interaction on the massive jumbotron screens. A piercing, collective shriek echoed through the stadium, instantly multiplying as a wave of high-pitched screams and ecstatic gasps surged through the crowd.
"OH MY GOD, DID YOU SEE THAT?!"
"NO WAY, WAIT—LOOK AT THEM!"
The noise level spiked so violently it felt like physical pressure against your eardrums. Panic flared hot and sharp behind your ribs, threatening to trip your footing all over again. For one terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, the weight of fifty thousand screaming fans pressing down on your shoulders like lead.
Pull it together.
You forced every ounce of your professional survival instincts to kick in. You dragged the corners of your mouth upward, pasting on a bright, utterly convincing, unbothered smile as you smoothly executed the next transition, snapping your arm out on the exact downbeat as if you weren't internally melting into a puddle of absolute mortification.
Hoseok caught the look, caught the split-second panic in your eyes followed by your fiercely stubborn recovery, and his smirk deepened into something dangerously fond before he spun away on his heel, hitting the front edge of the stage as the chorus exploded around him.
You survived the rest of the song in a dizzying, adrenaline-fueled blur, executing every step on pure, automated muscle memory while your pulse roared in your ears.
When the final heavy beat cut out and the stage plunged into darkness, the collective exhale of the entire crew was palpable.
"Alright, brilliant run, everyone! Let's clear the stage, standard rotation to the chill rooms for a ten-minute reset!" the stage manager’s voice cracked through the in-ear monitors.
Instantly, the backup dancers broke formation, turning in a synchronized wave to march off the back of the massive stage toward the sprawling labyrinth of backstage corridors. The moment you crossed behind the heavy black velvet curtains, stepping out of the glaring heat of the stadium lights, your knees felt remarkably weak.
You let out a long, ragged breath, pulling the strap of your dance bag higher up your shoulder as you walked alongside Minji and Hana down the dim hallway.
You hadn't even made it ten feet before Minji grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face her with eyes the size of dinner plates. Her jaw was literally hanging open.
"Are you—did that just—" Minji stammered, her voice pitching up in pure, unadulterated disbelief as she shook your shoulders back and forth. "Did J-Hope just literally corner you on stage, lean down, and whisper directly into your soul while fifty thousand people screamed their lungs out?!"
"Shut up, shut up, keep your voice down!" you hissed frantically, your face instantly catching fire as a burning, mortified flush raced across your cheeks. You slapped a hand over her mouth, glancing around nervously to make sure no stray staff members or stylists were within earshot.
Hana stepped in closer, a dazed, starstruck grin plastered across her face as she gently batted your hand away from Minji's mouth. "Are you out of your mind? You looked like you were going to combust, but you actually pulled off the coolest, calmest little smile right back at him! I swear to god, the jumbotron caught the whole thing. The shippers on Twitter are going to lose their absolute minds by the time we log onto our phones tonight."
"I hate both of you," you groaned, burying your burning face in both hands as you let out a long, pathetic whine. "I didn't want him to do that! I was just trying to do my job, keep my head down, and not trip over the stage lift again! And then he just... he just appeared out of nowhere like a tactical missile of stress!"
"Stress?" Minji let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, elbowing Hana in the ribs. "Babe, that wasn't stress. That man was actively flirting with you on live international broadcast in front of an entire stadium. If that's stress, sign me up for a heart attack immediately."
"Come on," Hana added, linking her arm securely through yours as the group resumed walking down the winding corridor toward the private dancers' chill room. "You survived the stage encounter of the century. But seriously, this is your definitive sign. The universe is literally shoving you toward him on a silver platter. You are walking up to him tonight, and you are telling him he's cool. End of discussion."
"I am going to walk straight into traffic," you muttered miserably, though the frantic, electric fluttering in your stomach completely betrayed how much your heart was racing at the thought.
The corridor opened up into the spacious, dimly lit backstage chill room reserved for the core dance crew and touring staff. Plush velvet couches lined the walls, a long minibar stocked with ice-cold water and energy drinks sat in the corner, and soft warm lighting cast a welcome, relaxed glow over the space. The heavy bass from the main stage muffled through the walls, serving as a distant reminder that the concert was still tearing through its setlist.
As the rest of the dancers filtered into the room, collapsing onto the couches and groaning in shared exhaustion, you kicked off your heavy dance sneakers by the door.
The thick, heavy air of the backstage area was suffocatingly warm, and the cumulative heat from the rigorous choreography had your skin damp with sweat under your layers. Shivering slightly as the chill of the air conditioning hit your overheated skin, you reached up to grab the collar of your damp black stage jacket.
With a sharp, efficient motion, you slipped your arms out of the sleeves, peeling the heavy jacket off your shoulders and tossing it over the back of an empty armchair. You stood there in your form-fitting black tank top and cargo dance pants, running a hand through your slightly damp hair as you let out a long, bone-deep sigh, completely unaware of the heavy silence that had suddenly fallen over the doorway behind you.
The heavy metal door of the private chill room swung shut with a muffled click, cutting off the distant, muffled thud of the stadium bass and plunging the quiet space into an abrupt, eerie stillness.
You stood alone in the center of the dimly lit room, the harsh fluorescent panels overhead casting a warm, amber glow across the plush velvet couches and the empty minibar. Your friends, Minji and Hana, had vanished down the corridor toward the main dressing areas a moment before, leaving you completely by yourself to catch your breath. The oppressive heat of the stage still lingered against your skin, and you reached up to wipe a stray bead of sweat from your collarbone, completely unaware that the heavy latch of the door was turning open once again.
Assuming it was just Minji returning to nag you about going to speak to Hoseok, you didn’t bother turning around as you unclipped your wireless headset pack, tossing it onto the nearest coffee table with a soft clatter.
"Minji, for the last time, I'm not going to hunt him down like a lovesick puppy in the middle of a world tour," you threw your hands up in exasperation, your voice dripping with defensive exhaustion as you turned on your heel. "Drop it."
A low, rich chuckle cut right through the empty air, smooth, velvety, and entirely unmistakable.
"I'm not Minji."
Your breath caught violently in your throat. Your entire body went completely rigid, every single muscle locking up as your eyes snapped toward the doorway.
Leaning casually against the doorframe, blocking any easy exit, was Jung Hoseok.
He had ditched the heavy black leather trench coat from the stage, now wearing a simple, soft charcoal hoodie with the hood slung low, though the delicate silver and pearl chains still draped across his collarbone, catching the dim light of the room. His dark hair was slightly damp, clinging artfully to his forehead, and his expression was an intoxicating mix of amusement and a dark, razor-sharp focus that made your stomach execute a frantic, terrifying freefall.
"H-Hoseok," you stammered, your voice pitching up slightly before you managed to swallow hard and force your jaw to stay shut. Panic flared hot and bright behind your ribs. "What are you... what are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be with the stylists or getting ready for the final encore block?"
Hoseok didn't answer immediately. He pushed off the doorframe with a slow, deliberate movement, closing the distance between you with a predatory, unhurried grace that made every instinct in your body scream.
"I was," Hoseok said softly, his voice dropping into a low, smoky register that seemed to vibrate straight through the floorboards. He stopped just a few paces away from you, his dark eyes sweeping over you with a heavy, undisguised intensity that made your skin tingle. "And then I spent the entire third verse watching one of my best dancers look like she was about to pass out because I got a little too close."
"I didn't look like I was going to pass out," you protested, though the weak, breathy quality of your voice completely undermined your words. You instinctively took a half-step back, your shoulders coming into contact with the firm, padded back of the armchair where you had tossed your jacket minutes earlier. You were officially trapped.
"Oh, you definitely did," Hoseok murmured, a wicked, lopsided smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he closed the remaining gap between you. He placed one hand on the back of the armchair right beside your head, caging you in completely. The heavy, intoxicating scent of his stage cologne, mixed with sharp cedar and warm skin, completely flooded your senses. "I could see it in your eyes right on the jumbotron. The panic was cute. But the little smile you forced out right after? That was impressive."
"I'm a professional," you managed to squeak out, desperately trying to keep your gaze locked on his collarbone rather than his mouth. "We're on a tight schedule. Management would have a fit if—"
"Management isn't in this room," Hoseok interrupted, his voice dropping another octave, losing all trace of playful banter as his dark eyes locked onto yours with absolute, unflinching gravity. "And I'm tired of pretending we're just coworkers following a strict schedule."
Your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird. Every breath you took felt shallow, stolen away by the sheer proximity of him. The memory of how he had leaned down on stage, whispering directly into your ear while fifty thousand people shrieked in the dark, rushed back to the surface with blistering clarity.
"Hoseok, people are going to walk in here," you whispered, your fingers curling tightly into the fabric of the armchair behind you as he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours.
"Let them," he replied smoothly, his gaze dipping down to your lips for a fraction of a second before flashing back up to your eyes. He reached out, his warm fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of your bare collarbone, tracing the path of the silver chains resting against your chest. The casual, electrifying contact sent a violent, shuddering wave straight down your spine, making your knees feel suspiciously weak.
"You've been avoiding me all week during rehearsals," Hoseok noted softly, his thumb tracing a slow, hypnotic circle against your skin. "Every time I try to catch you alone to talk about the routine, you suddenly have a dozen errands to run with Minji or Hana. Or you go talk to one of my members. Why is that?"
"I haven't been avoiding you," you lied instantly, your voice betraying you with a nervous tremor.
"Liar," he chuckled, the low sound rumbling right against your skin. He shifted his weight, pressing his lean, solid frame just a fraction closer so that there was barely any air left between you. "It’s cute, really. You can handle a stadium full of screaming fans, you can execute a backflip on a moving stage lift, but the second I look at you for more than three seconds, you turn into a complete mess."
"I am not a mess," you hissed defensively, a sudden surge of pride overriding your terror as you glared up at him. "You're just... you're arrogant, Hoseok. You think you can just walk up, pull some theatrical stunt on live television, and throw everyone off balance—"
"Did it throw you off balance?" he cut you off smoothly, tilting his head as his dark eyes glittered with undeniable triumph.
You opened your mouth to snap a sharp denial, but the words completely failed you. Your chest heaved, your gaze dropping helplessly to his lips. He knew the answer. You knew the answer. The heavy, electric silence stretched between you, thick with days of suppressed tension, stolen glances in studio mirrors, and the undeniable magnetism that had been pulling you toward each other all tour long.
Hoseok’s expression softened, the playful teasing melting away into something raw, steady, and deeply intense. His hand slid up from your collarbone, his fingers gently cupping the side of your neck, his thumb resting softly against your jawline.
"We can talk more," Hoseok whispered, his breath hot against your cheek, sending a shiver rolling across your skin. "Come by my hotel tonight. I don't share a room with any of the guys. My room number's 45. We can talk as much as you want."
The invitation hung in the air between you like a loaded trigger, heavy with implication and dripping with a quiet, certain gravity that made your head spin.
Before your brain could process the magnitude of what he was asking, before you could formulate a single excuse or muster the strength to say no, Hoseok slowly lowered his head, pressing a lingering, feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth. The touch was agonizingly brief, just enough to leave your skin burning and your entire body starved for more, before he pulled back with a slow, devastating smile.
"I'll leave the door unlocked for you," he murmured softly against your ear.
Without waiting for an answer, Hoseok stepped back, letting his hand fall away from your skin with a reluctant slide. He turned on his heel, walking toward the heavy metal door with that same effortless, fluid confidence, pulling it open and disappearing back out into the bright, chaotic hum of the backstage corridor, leaving you standing alone in the quiet chill room with your racing heart and a decision that was going to change everything.
The remainder of the concert passed in a dizzying, surreal blur of lights, basslines, and automated choreography. Your body went through the motions on pure muscle memory, executing every formation and turn, but your mind was entirely trapped back in that dimly lit chill room.
Room 45.
The numbers seemed to echo on a loop in your head, overriding every thought, every cue, and every lingering shred of your professional composure. When the final encore wrapped and the crew was finally dismissed to return to the hotel, your heart hammered against your ribs like a caged bird.
You bypassed the group elevator, opting for the quiet service stairs that led up to the private VIP floor of the touring hotel. Every footstep on the concrete stairs felt heavy, loaded with the weight of a decision you couldn't undo.
When you reached the fourth floor, the hallway was dead silent, bathed in soft, amber sconce lighting. You walked slowly down the carpeted corridor, your eyes scanning the gold plaques mounted beside each door until you stopped dead in your tracks.
45.
You didn't give yourself a second to hesitate, terrified that if you stopped to think, your nerve would completely shatter. You raised your hand and rapped your knuckles softly against the wood, tap, tap, tap.
You barely had time to draw a ragged breath before the heavy door clicked and swung inward.
Jung Hoseok stood in the doorway. He had already changed out of his stage clothes into a soft, oversized white t-shirt and loose black sweatpants, his dark hair falling in soft waves across his forehead without the styling product. But it was the look in his eyes, heavy, dark, and burning with an intense, unmistakable hunger that made your breath catch in your throat.
Without a word, Hoseok’s hand shot out, catching your wrist and pulling you smoothly across the threshold before the door clicked shut behind you with a sharp, echoing finality.
The interior of the suite was dim, lit only by the pale city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Before your eyes could fully adjust, Hoseok backed you gently against the heavy wood of the closed door, caging you in with both arms braced on either side of your head.
"I knew you'd come," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sent a violent shiver racing straight down your spine.
"I didn't say I was going to—" you started to protest, your voice betraying you with a breathless tremor.
"Actions speak louder, baby," Hoseok interrupted softly, a dark, wicked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
Before you could draw another breath, he captured your mouth in a deep, consuming kiss.
All the restrained tension, the weeks of stolen glances in the practice mirrors, the heavy teasing on stage, and the suffocating anticipation of the hallway melted away into a chaotic, breathless rush. It wasn't gentle; it was hungry, demanding, and utterly intoxicating. His lips parted yours with practiced ease, his tongue sweeping warmly, authoritatively inside your mouth as his hand slid up from the door, his warm fingers tangling firmly into the hair at the nape of your neck to tilt your head back and deepen the angle.
A soft, helpless whimper slipped past your lips, swallowed entirely by his mouth. Your hands instinctively flew up, gripping the soft cotton of his t-shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists as you pulled him flush against you.
Hoseok groaned low in the back of his throat—a thick, resonant sound that vibrated straight through your chest.
Breaking away from your lips for a fraction of a second, he didn't give you a chance to catch your breath. He peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses down the line of your jaw, tracking a burning path over your sensitive collarbone and down the exposed column of your neck. His teeth grazed lightly against your pulse point, making your knees buckle beneath you as an electric shockwave of pure pleasure erupted through your core.
Hoseok paused, his hot breath fanning over your damp skin as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his hands sliding down to grip your hips with firm, possessive strength.
"Bet you've been thinking about this, mm?" Hoseok murmured against your skin, his voice rough with a heady mix of triumph and desire. "J-Hope of BTS having you like this? Tell me, baby."
"Hoseok..." you gasped out, your voice sounding small, wrecked, and completely ruined as your fingers tightened desperately in his shirt.
"Tell me," he repeated, turning his head slightly so his lips brushed your earlobe. "Say it."
"I've been thinking about it," you confessed, the humiliated, reckless honesty tearing out of your throat. "I've been thinking about it all week..."
A dark, approving chuckle rumbled in his chest.
"Atta girl," he praised softly, pulling back just enough to look down into your flushed, breathless face. His dark, obsidian eyes were dilated, burning with an absolute intensity. "Can I take off your shirt?"
You couldn't form words. You just nodded mutely, your chest heaving under the thin fabric of your top.
Hoseok paused, his hands resting on the hem of your shirt, his thumb tracing the skin of your waist. He tilted his head, a playful, challenging glint flashing in his dark eyes.
"I need words, beautiful," he chuckled softly, his voice a smooth, dangerous velvet. "Do you want this? Because I can stop—"
"No!" you whined instantly, a spike of panic making your hands shoot up to grip his wrists, stopping him from pulling away.
Hoseok raised an eyebrow, a slow, triumphant smirk spreading across his face. "No?"
"Please..." you breathed, your eyes locking onto his with desperate, unfiltered need as your cheeks burned bright red. "Please... I want you."
Hoseok’s breath hitched violently. The playful amusement vanished from his face in a single heartbeat, replaced by a raw, overwhelming surge of heat that made his pupils blow wide.
"Fuck..." Hoseok whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he crashed his lips back down onto yours with a hungry, ravenous desperation. "...I want you too, baby."
The kiss that followed was no longer a question; it was a claim. Hoseok devoured your mouth with a ferocity that made your head spin, his tongue claiming yours in a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of your own heart. The air in Room 45 felt charged, thick with the scent of his cologne something woody and expensive and the undeniable musk of arousal that seemed to radiate from his skin.
His hands, large and warm, abandoned the door to explore the curves of your body. One hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, his palm searing against the bare skin of your stomach. The contact made you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively rolling forward to seek more of him. Through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, you could feel the evidence of his need the hard, unmistakable length of him pressing against your thigh, promising a release that felt both terrifying and inevitable.
"You're shaking," Hoseok murmured against your lips, though he made no move to slow down. His fingers splayed across your ribs, dragging upward until his thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts. "Is it because you're scared? Or because you're desperate?"
"Both," you confessed, your voice breaking. "More desperate."
"Good girl." The praise was a physical caress. "I want you desperate. I want you so undone that you can't remember anything but my name."
With the practiced efficiency of someone who knew exactly how to dismantle composure, he pulled your shirt up and over your head. The cool air of the suite hit your skin for only a second before his heat replaced it. He didn't immediately move to your breasts that were trapped in your bra; instead, he took a moment to simply admire you. His gaze raked over you with a possessive hunger that made you feel exposed, yet more seen than you ever had in your life. The amber light from the sconces cast long, dramatic shadows across your collarbones and the swell of your chest, painting you in gold.
"Beautiful," he whispered, the word reverent even as his eyes remained dark with lust. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."
He stepped back just enough to guide you toward the king sized bed that dominated the center of the room. The sheets were silk, cool and inviting beneath your bare skin as he pressed you down onto them. Hoseok followed you down, his body a heavy, welcome weight that pinned you to the mattress. He worked quickly, shedding his own shirt before moving to strip you of the rest of your clothing. Every inch of skin revealed seemed to draw a new sound from his throat low growls, appreciative hums, and curses that made your blood sing.
When you were both bare, the reality of the situation settled over you like a fever. The contrast between his lean, corded muscle and your softer curves was stark, a visual feast that made your pulse flutter erratically. Hoseok hovered over you for a moment, his arms braced on either side of your head, simply breathing you in. His eyes traced every line of your body before settling on your face.
"I've imagined this since the first day of rehearsals," he confessed, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Watching you move on stage, watching how you command attention... I wanted to see if you'd taste as sweet as you look."
Before you could respond, he descended. His mouth found your breast, his lips encircling one nipple with sudden, sharp hunger. He tugged gently with his teeth, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your clitoris. You arched off the bed, your fingers tangling in his dark waves as you cried out his name. He didn't stop there; his mouth wandered lower, his tongue tracing the valley between your breasts before descending to your stomach. His kisses became more urgent as he approached the apex of your thighs.
"Ho-Hoseok, please..." you whimpered, your legs parting instinctively.
"Shh, baby. Call me Hobi, and I've got you." His hands slid between your thighs, spreading them wide. "Just wanna make you feel good, pretty."
He moved down the bed until he was positioned between your legs. The sight of him the powerful thighs, the lean torso, the dark intensity in his eyes left you breathless. Then, he lowered his head.
The first contact of his tongue against your swollen clitoris made your entire body convulse. It was warm, wet, and impossibly precise. Hoseok was not gentle; he was thorough. He used his tongue like a weapon, swirling it around your sensitive nub before applying firm, direct pressure that drove you toward the edge of madness. One of his hands reached up to grip your hip, holding you steady as he delved deeper, his tongue sliding inside you to explore your slick heat.
"Ho-bi... yes, right there... Feels s'good." You sobbed, your hips bucking against his face. The sensation was overwhelming the wet friction, the sound of his breathing, the way his fingers kneaded your ass cheeks. You felt like you were unraveling, your consciousness narrowing down to that single point of contact.
"You're so wet for me," he mumbled against your inner thigh before returning to your center. "So fucking perfect."
He increased the pace, his tongue working with a devastating rhythm. He knew exactly when to slow down to prolong the torment and when to quicken to drive you over the precipice. You were lost in a haze of sensation, your eyes rolling back as the first waves of climax began to crash through you. "I'm... I'm gonna–"
"Let it go, baby. Give it all to me. I got you," he commanded.
As you shattered, your climax rippling through you in waves that left you shaking and weak, Hoseok drank you in, his mouth never leaving you until the last tremor had passed. You lay there for several minutes, panting, your skin flushed and damp with sweat, feeling completely hollowed out in the best possible way.
But Hoseok wasn't finished. He moved up your body, his eyes fixed on yours, burning with a rekindled fire. "Wanna suck me off, beautiful?"
"Please," you begged, reaching for him.
"Come on then." He stood up by the edge of the bed as you began to crawl to him.
You guided him to your mouth, your fingers wrapping around his hardening length. He was hot and pulsing, a physical manifestation of the hunger he had been carrying for weeks. As you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head and sucking gently on the underside, you watched his expression shift from controlled desire to raw, unguarded pleasure. His head fell back, a guttural groan escaping him as you worked to please him, your throat tightening around him with each stroke.
"Fuck, you're good at that," he hissed, his hand coming down to rest on the back of your head, guiding your movements. "So good. But I need to feel you. I need to be inside you."
He pulled away from you just long enough to position himself. The room was silent except for your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Hoseok moved between your legs, settling himself between your thighs. He propped himself up on his elbows, hovering over you in a classic missionary position, allowing you to see every inch of his face.
"Look at me, baby," he commanded softly. "I want you to see me when I fuck you."
Slowly, deliberately, he guided the head of his cock to your entrance. He paused there for a heartbeat, letting you feel the blunt pressure before pushing forward. You gasped as you felt yourself stretching to accommodate him, the fullness of him filling the emptiness that had been aching inside you. He moved slowly at first, each inch a deliberate invasion, ensuring you could take all of him.
"You okay? Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.
With your permission granted, the pace shifted from tentative to primal. Hoseok began to thrust, his hips meeting yours in a steady, powerful rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room, a metronome for your shared ecstasy. Each thrust drove him deeper, hitting your cervix with a blunt force that made your vision blur.
"You're so tight," he groaned, his teeth gritted as he fought for control. "Like you were made just for me."
"I...," you cried out, clearly unable to finish your sentence, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer, wanting to eliminate every millimeter of space between you. "Hobi..."
The missionary position allowed for an intimacy that no other could match. Your chests pressed together, your hearts beating in synchronized chaos. You could feel the sweat sliding between your bodies, the friction increasing as the pace accelerated. Hoseok's movements became more urgent, less controlled. His breathing turned into harsh, broken gasps, and his eyes never left yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that felt like it was searing your soul.
"I'm close," he warned, his voice breaking. "You gonna come with me, baby?"
"Y-Yeah... Yeah... Mmm."
The climax hit you both simultaneously. As you moaned his name, your internal muscles clamping around him in desperate spasms, Hoseok let out a raw, animalistic roar. He buried himself as deep as possible, his body tensing as he came inside you in powerful, pulsing waves. The sensation of him filling you while you climaxed was overwhelming, a white hot explosion that left you both gasping for air.
For several long minutes, neither of you moved. Hoseok remained collapsed against you, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, his chest heaving against yours. The only sound was the quiet hum of the air conditioning and your own retreating breaths. Slowly, he lifted his head, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.
"Mine," he whispered against your skin, the word less a claim and more a promise. "You're mine."
"Yours," you agreed weakly, closing your eyes as the afterglow wrapped around you like a warm blanket, finally allowing the exhaustion of the concert and the intensity of the night to pull you toward sleep.
The morning light filtered softly through the heavy blackout curtains of Suite 45, casting a warm, hazy gold across the rumpled white sheets.
You woke up slowly, floating in that heavy, delicious haze where reality hadn't quite set in yet. Your body felt completely relaxed, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and heavy comfort that you didn't want to break. For a second, your sleepy brain tried to convince you that the entire night before, the secret walk down the VIP corridor, the suffocating tension, the breathless panic and raw heat in the dark had just been an impossibly vivid dream born from too many hours of stage adrenaline.
Then, a slow, deliberate movement broke the stillness.
A heavy, warm arm draped securely over your waist, pulling you flush against a solid, bare chest. A split-second later, a soft, lingering warmth brushed against the sensitive skin of your bare shoulder.
Gentle, feather-light kisses were pressed rhythmically right where your shoulder met your neck, deliberate and tender, sending a soft, shiver-inducing ripple straight through your sleepy muscles.
A low, gravelly morning chuckle vibrated right against your back, thick with sleep and absolute satisfaction.
"Good morning, beautiful," Jung Hoseok murmured, his voice rough and deep with slumber as his lips brushed your skin one more time.
Your eyes fluttered open completely, a soft, involuntary smile breaking across your face as the hazy dream state evaporated, replaced by the dizzying, wonderful reality of where you were. You shifted slightly against the mattress, turning your head over your shoulder to look back at him.
Hoseok was lying propped up on one elbow, his dark hair messy and untamed against the white pillows, falling in soft strands across his forehead. He wasn't wearing his stage clothes, nor the fierce, untouchable aura he wore under the stadium lights. Without the sunglasses or the leather trench coat, looking at him like this, soft-eyed, relaxed, and smiling that wide, heart-melting, sleepy smile made your chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming fondness.
"Morning," you whispered back, your voice raspy with sleep.
Hoseok’s dark eyes softened further, a sleepy kind of warmth pooling in them as he reached up, using the back of his fingers to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. His thumb traced a slow, affectionate path along your cheekbone, his gaze lingering on your lips as if memorizing the curve of them all over again.
"Sleep well?" he teased softly, his lips curling into a knowing, lopsided smirk.
"Like I've been running a marathon for three days straight," you mumbled honestly, though you leaned instinctively into his touch, nuzzling slightly against his palm.
"Well, you definitely worked hard last night," he laughed softly, the rich sound rumbling deep in his chest. He pulled you a fraction closer, tucking you impossibly tighter against his side so that your head rested comfortably right over his steady, beating heart. "We earned the rest."
For a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved. The world outside the hotel window could have been ending, but inside Suite 45, time seemed to slow down entirely. The heavy curtains blocked out the morning rush, leaving just the sound of your breathing syncing with his, the quiet rustle of the sheets, and the undeniable, electric comfort of being wrapped up in him.
Your fingers traced idly over the smooth skin of his chest, lightly brushing past the spot where his silver chains usually rested, though right now, he was completely bare, stripped of all the armor he wore for the cameras.
After a while, the faint, internal reminder of reality began to buzz at the back of your mind. Tour schedules, rehearsal calls, the rest of the dance crew.
"What time is it?" you murmured softly into his chest, your eyes still half-closed as you blinked against the bright sliver of light peaking through the curtain gap.
Hoseok didn't answer immediately; he just let out a soft sigh, tightening his arm around your waist as if trying to trap you in bed forever. "Who cares? The call time isn't for hours."
"I should probably check just in case my phone is blowing up," you reasoned, though your limbs felt like lead. You stretched out an arm blindly toward the nightstand where you had tossed your phone the night before. Your fingers brushed against the smooth glass surface, wrapping around it and dragging it back under the heavy duvet cover.
You tapped the screen to wake it up, squinting slightly against the sudden glare of light.
The lock screen was a chaotic wall of notifications, missed calls from Minji and Hana demanding to know if you were alive, group chat messages flooded with teasing emojis, and a cascade of social media alerts. But one notification right at the top, pulled straight from a viral X (formerly Twitter) update tag, made your entire heart stop dead in its tracks.
@TourUpdates_BTS: DID EVERYONE FORGET ABOUT THIS?! Footage of J-Hope cornering backup dancer Y/N on stage during FYA last night is currently hitting 2M views. Look at his face omg... we are not surviving this tour.
Your breath hitched violently in your throat. Your thumb hovered over the screen, paralyzed.
Before you could lock the phone or shove it under the pillow, a lean arm slid over your shoulder. Hoseok leaned in, resting his chin comfortably right on top of your head, his dark eyes reading the glowing screen over your shoulder with effortless ease.
He didn't look panicked. In fact, a slow, highly amused smirk spread across his face as he watched the words register in your mind.
"Well," Hoseok murmured, his warm breath fanning over your ear. "Looks like the secret's out, baby."
"Oh my god," you whimpered, covering your face with your free hand as a hot, mortified flush raced across your cheeks. "We're going to get lectured by management. The whole fandom saw that. They literally caught you trapping me on stage on a live international broadcast..."
"Let them look," Hoseok chuckled softly, unfazed. Instead of pulling away, his index finger reached out, brushing your hand aside so he could take control of the phone screen.
With a smooth, practiced swipe, his finger scrolled down past the initial post, opening the quote-reposts and the comment section below the viral video.
You braced yourself for impact, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, expecting a tidal wave of backlash, jealous theories, or chaotic drama.
Instead, scrolling down the screen, what met your eyes completely threw you off.
@bts_ot7_love: WAIT THEY LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER THOUGH?? Look at the way he smiles at her pls 😭
@hobi_core: Honestly...if j-hope looked at me like that on stage i would simply combust into flames. let them be happy omggg
@taejin_95: the backup dancers work SO hard, but Y/N is literally living my absolute dream life right now. look at his shoulders!!
@agustd_supremacy: im screaming the way he literally cornered her in broad daylight on live tv?? he is SO not subtle anymore lmao i love it
@ARMY_sunshine_94: protect them at all costs. if hobi is happy we are happy!! STREAM ARIRANG NOW 🍓☁️✨
Hoseok’s finger continued to scroll smoothly down the feed, revealing hundreds of comments, cute edits, supportive fan theories, and overwhelmingly positive, hyper-fixated shipping threads from fans who were melting over the chemistry they had accidentally put on display.
A quiet, disbelieving breath slipped past your lips as you stared at the glowing screen.
"See?" Hoseok whispered softly, his voice dropping into that warm, reassuring register that always made your chest feel too full. He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple, his arm tightening around your waist once more. "It's ARMY. They love it. And more importantly... I love it."
You turned your head slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. The mischievous, teasing glint in his dark eyes had melted into something entirely devoted, making the frantic hammering of your heart return, not out of panic, but out of a sudden, rushing wave of warmth.
"You're impossible, Jung Hoseok," you muttered, a helpless, genuine smile breaking across your face as you locked your phone screen and tossed it back onto the nightstand.
"I know," he grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, sweet, lingering morning kiss that completely wiped every remaining thought of the world outside out of your head. "Now stop worrying about the internet, close your eyes, and stay right here."
And for the rest of the morning, in the quiet warmth of Suite 45, you didn't look at a single notification again.
Not because you were tired of being single. No. You hated men with your whole being.
But you needed a boyfriend because your friends wouldn’t stop asking when you were finally going to introduce a boy to them, and you were tired of being the third wheel every time you went out with your friends and their boyfriends.
You were sick of the questions.
“So, are you seeing anyone?”
“When are you gonna get a boyfriend?”
God. You’d rather scrape your coochie across carpet and get rug burn.
It wasn’t like you had anything against relationships. Okay. Maybe that was a lie. You had plenty against relationships.
You sat back and watched as all your friends fell in love, get into relationships and become the most insufferable people on the planet.
And then there was you. Single and lonely. But you were okay with that. You were just over being a third wheel. Every outing with your friends turned into a couples activity, and you always sitting across someone’s boyfriend and watching as they giggled and laughed at each other jokes.
God it was insufferable. So when your best friend asked for what felt like the 100th time about your love life and if you had anyone, you finally snapped.
“Actually, yes I do.” The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up.
“Really?” She asked, her eyes wide. Fuck what did you get yourself into? You were already in too deep now and you couldn’t take back your words.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“My boyfriend.” You immediately asked yourself how you were gonna get a boyfriend. You had no idea. But you were gonna make it work . Somehow.
“YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND? SINCE WHEN?”
You hated men with every fiber of your being. If they even breathed around you wrong you were already irritated. And you believed that men should die alone.
Which they should.
But unfortunately in this moment, you needed a man to rescue you. The one species you dreaded most on this earth.
You needed a fake boyfriend. Preferably one that was attractive enough to make your friends shutup and convincing enough to fool them too.
Should be easy. Men are easier than an easy bake oven.
At least that’s what you thought. Finding a man was the easiest thing ever. But finding one that you can tolerate for more than a minute? That was the true obstacle.
You quickly began your search, starting with Google and somehow stumbled across a Rent- A Boyfriend website. Curious enough, you clicked on it and made an account and began scrolling through to find what you needed.
Every one of the men for rent failed to meet up to any of the standards you had for yourself. And they were charging way too much for what they were actually worth based on their profile pics.
You weren’t paying 500 dollars for a man who took pictures in a dirty ass bathroom mirror. Fuck no. You were never gonna stoop that low. Even if you were desperate.
Kairo — 26
$300 / week — ★★★☆☆
“I felt like I was on a date with my guidance counselor from high school. I hated that lady.” — anonymous user
“Would rent again. Would NOT recommend letting him meet your family tho. — anonymous user
You stared at his profile picture. He was cute. But not $300-a-week cute.
Next.
Matteo — 28
$425 / week— ★★★★☆
His profile picture was him leaning against a black sports car with sunglasses on.
You immediately rolled your eyes. Of course.
You clicked the reviews anyway.
“He’s cute. That’s all.” — anonymous user
“Good guy. Horrible music taste. — anonymous user
“Respectful, but talks too much.” — anonymous user
You scrolled back up to his picture.
“Too generic.”
Next.
Soren — 25
$250 / week — ★★☆☆☆
You nearly skipped him based on his picture alone. He had taken it in a bathroom mirror. A dirty bathroom mirror.
You clicked the reviews just to confirm your suspicions.
“He showed up wearing the exact same outfit from his profile picture.” — anonymous user
“He spent the entire dinner talking about his ex.” — anonymous user
“Would rather be single.” — anonymous user
You snorted. Finally. A review you could agree with. No wonder why he was cheap.
Next.
Zaire — 30
$800 / week — ★★★★★
You stopped. Okay. He was attractive.
You clicked his reviews.
“Five stars. He had my mother convinced we were getting married.” — anonymous user
“Great service. Would recommend.” — anonymous user
You considered it for a few seconds. Then looked at the price.
“Eight hundred dollars?” You scoffed. Absolutely fucking not. You were desperate.
Not stupid. You kept scrolling.
Park Jimin — 27
$500/week | ★★★★★
“My grandmother still thinks we’re together. I stopped correcting her.” -anonymous user
“Used him to make my ex jealous. Safe to say it worked.” -anonymous user
“If you need someone to survive a family gathering, rent him.” -anonymous user
You stared at the screen. Okay. This one actually seemed competent.
Which was annoying. You clicked through his pictures.
Even more annoying, He was fucking gorgeous.
You looked at the price.
$500 a week.
You stared at it for a moment.
“..Fuck.” For 500 a week with a 5 star rating he was high key worth it. And he was the type of man that would make your friends shutup. He was exactly what you needed. You clicked on his profile.
Park Jimin. He was older than you expected. But you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky.
You scrolled through his profile, reading over his reviews one more time before your eyes landed on the button underneath his information.
BEFORE YOU RENT.
They were just the client terms. Basic shit that you didn’t care to know about. One rule caught your eye tho.
7. No Emotional Attachments
The purpose of this service is companionship and relationship simulation. Emotional attachment is strongly discouraged.
You stared at that one for a second before laughing.
“As if I’d get attached to a MAN.” You weren’t getting emotionally attached to some random man you were paying 500 dollars to pretend to like you.
Now that would be embarrassing. You scroll to the bottom then back up to his profile. Staring at the button on his profile.
MESSAGE
You stared at it.
This was actually happening. You were about to message a complete stranger and ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend.
Fuck it. You clicked it.
You: I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for like a week.
Jimin: Is that how you introduce yourself?
You: I don’t have time for introductions.
Jimin: Clearly.
You: Are you available or not?
Jimin: Maybe I am. It depends.
You: I haven’t met you yet and you’re already pissing me off.
Jimin: We’re off to a good start then.
You stared at your phone. You already didn’t like him.
You: I just need you for like a week so I can make my friends shut up about my love life. Then after that, I have no use for you anymore.
Jimin: So when do you need me?
You: Friday.
Jimin: This Friday?
You: Yes.
Jimin: What’s happening Friday?
You: Double date. Friends and their boyfriends.
Jimin: You told your friends you had a boyfriend?
You: Unfortunately, I did.
Jimin: And now you need one.
You: Yes.
Jimin: I see.
You: it sounds like you’re amused.
Jimin: I’m not.
You: I feel like you’re laughing at me.
Jimin: I’m smiling.
You: Same fucking thing.
Jimin: How long have we supposedly been together?
You: Two months.
Jimin: How did we meet?
You paused.
You: We… met through a friend.
Jimin: Which friend?
You: …
Jimin: You really didn’t think this through, did you?
You: I was under pressure. Just improvise.
Jimin: Improvise?
You: Yes. Improvise.
Jimin: You’re asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend and you don’t even have a backstory prepared?
You: I just told you how we met.
Jimin: You said “through a friend.”
You: Exactly.
Jimin: Which friend?
You: I’ll think of one.
Jimin: When?
You: Before Friday.
Jimin: That’s reassuring.
You: Are you going to help me or not?
Jimin: I’m still deciding.
You: What is there to decide?
Jimin: Whether I want to spend a week pretending to date someone who clearly doesn’t like me.
You stared at the screen.
You: I don’t dislike you. That much at least.
Jimin: You told me I was pissing you off before we even agreed to anything.
You: That’s different.
Jimin: How?
You: I don’t know. Just… shut up.
Jimin: Alright. I’ll do it.
You immediately sat up.
You: Seriously?
Jimin: Yes. But we need to go over the terms first.
You: Terms?
Jimin: Dates. Payment. Boundaries. What your friends know. What they don’t know.
You: You have a whole list?
Jimin: I’m a professional.
You: didn’t know men that pretend to be fake boyfriends for a living were professionals but I digress.
Jimin: I’ll see you Friday, then.
You: youll actually help me?
Jimin: you’re the one who asked. Just try not to regret it before Friday.
You: right… can’t make any promises. I’ll run everything by you when we meet. My friends, the story, all of that shit.
Jimin: so..nothing is prepared.
You paused.
You: No… but I have a general concept.
Jimin: I see.
You: don’t start.
Jimin: Was just gonna say that isn’t a plan.
You: it’s a starting point tho.
Jimin: I’ll save what I have to say for Friday then.
You: Good.
You stared at the messages. Friday. You were actually gonna meet this man.
You had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into. And you had a feeling you were gonna regret it. But you were already in deep shit.
You went back to his profile and stared at it. 500 a week. You looked through all his pictures. Yea. He was definitely worth the money.
You hated that you were even considering it. But what choice did you have? You needed a boyfriend. A fake one.
Just for now at least until your friends stopped being up your ass about getting one. Unfortunately, he seemed like the perfect one to get the job done. The closest thing to perfect.
Your eyes dropped to the bottom of the screen.
RENT
You hesitated. This was the most batshit crazy idea you’ve had this year alone. Aside from pressuring a man that hit on you to do meth, a drug you’ve never used in your life to get him to leave you alone. Or the time when you got drunk at the club and told a man you had herpes to scare him away.
Or that time a man slid in your DMs so you told him that you pegged men for a living and asked if he wanted to be next.
Unpatched method, really. Bring up some hardcore drug that they would likely say no to. Or try an STD. Works wonders.
You were actually about to pay 500 dollars a week to a stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. You could still close the website. You could forget you ever saw his face or forget you ever found a MAN attractive. You could continue being single.
Your finger hovered over the button. “Fuck it.”
You clicked RENT.
author’s note ♡ - This was written in honor of me seeing BTS for the first time in concert. This one’s for the memories and the bit of delusion that comes with being a fan. All likes, comments, and reposts are greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed creating it! ♡
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Did you love that chapter or what!?! Tell me you loved reading it just as much as I loved writing it.
OKAY, we are now getting ready for the destined meeting of Sung Jin-woo and Reader. Buckle up, my little Smutterflies, because it is only going to get juicier from here on out. Also, Reader and Ju-hee have begun living together as roommates, and just a bit of a heads-up: Lee Ju-hee DOES NOT quit being a hunter.
Enjoy chapter four, kittens, and AS ALWAYS, the madame does encourage all likes, comments, feedback, and theories…with kindness, or you shall find yourself swimming with the guppies at the bottom of the sea.
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Chapter 4: Meetings of Shadows and Light
You sigh for the third time this morning. Your meeting with the Hunters Association is late this afternoon, and you are dreading every second that barrels closer to the time you have to leave. It has been three weeks since your talk with Woo Jin-chul and your mandatory move-in with Lee Ju-hee. Living with her has actually been fun; you would even go so far as to say you two were friends. You still haven’t explained why you're actually here or where you're originally from. Still, you're glad to have a somewhat familiar face on your side, even if that familiarity was originally through a screen.
You have also been practicing with your powers while Ju-hee is out working. Xylem and Yarnyx have been training you. Their training styles are so different that it’s hard to keep up most days. Yarnyx likes to train by demonstration, using his own techniques and abilities to prepare you for battle against him. He leads with guidance and gentle instruction. Xylem, on the other hand, is the devil incarnate, immediately throwing you into battle against him. You’re convinced that he uses his full strength and enjoys watching you struggle to defend yourself. One of these days, you have vowed to put him on his ass.
Between the two of them, you always find yourself crawling into bed at night, bones aching and body drained of its will to live. But every morning, you wake up and notice that your body has gotten stronger; you are more in control of your powers, and you’re finally able to keep up with their movements. You have even begun to create your own techniques.
A soft rumbling purr reaches your ears along with the feeling of plush fur brushing against your calves. The sound breaks you from your stupor. A soft smile graces your lips as you look down at the chaotic orange tabby at your feet. “Are you trying to butter me up for treats, Creamsicle?” You give her scritches under her chin, eyes narrowed as she flops on her side and whispers a sweet meow at you. When she notices two small balls of light circling you, her eyes expand, and she wiggles her hips before jumping to swat at them. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes, watching Xylem and Yarnyx play with her.
While they’re running around the living room, making a mess, the front door opens. Ju-hee walks through carrying several takeout bags. The smell of savory broth, juicy tonkatsu, and fluffy rice fills the air. Your mouth waters, and the sound of your stomach growling is so loud that it scares Creamsicle, causing her to scamper up her cat tower for safety. “You’d think there’s no food in my fridge with how loud your stomach just growled,” Ju-hee laughs while placing the bags of food on top of her small dining table. Her auburn hair shines in the rising sun, haloing her head like a dancing, fiery flame. “Training was a bit rough today,” you explained vaguely. She nodded in understanding and changed the subject. You were grateful to Ju-hee for being so patient. She never pushes you to explain who you are and why you’re here, just waits until you’re ready to talk about it. Even when Woo Jin-chul demanded that she take you in, she did so without question.
“Are you prepared for your meeting with the Hunters Association today?” Ju-hee sets the table before beckoning you over to eat. You both say a quick prayer of thanks before heaping your bowls with rice, tonkatsu, and miso soup. An annoyed sigh burst from your lips as you mumble your response through rice-filled cheeks, “I still think this is unnecessary. I don’t give a damn about what my rank is or becoming a hunter.” You really couldn't care less about being a hunter. As much as you loved the anime, being a hunter just sounds like too much work that your audhd brain can’t handle. You’ll leave that up to the professionals, thank you very much. Unlike you, Ju-hee waits until she’s done eating and dabs her mouth with a napkin before speaking.
“Would you like me to go with you?” Your chopsticks pause before your lips; a glance upwards shows you that sincerity shines behind her hazel eyes, and your own begin to mist over with grateful tears. You blink rapidly to keep them from falling because you refuse to cry in this woman's fine establishment. “You would do that for me? A stranger?” Your voice cracks from too many emotions welling up at once. Ju-hee smiles at you so gently and sweetly that it makes your teeth ache. “Of course I would, and you're not a stranger; I consider us to be friends, right?” Her reply is filled with uncertainty. You shake your head in agreement, shifting your gaze downward so she doesn't see the lone tear that slides down your cheek. Both of you continue to eat in a steady silence for the rest of the morning; content to bask in the golden rays of the rising sun.
You smooth your neatly manicured hands over your black leggings once again. You try to find any way to keep your hands busy so you don't find yourself bolting out of the chairman's office. As you and Ju-hee were walking into the building, everyone seemed to stop and stare at you, entranced by the undeniable aura that flows from your body, like a waterfall that descends from the highest peaks of Niveyeh. Your frustration continues to mount as you and Ju-hee have been sitting in this office for thirty minutes, and no one has come to greet you. “For someone who was so damn concerned about me being a threat to society, they sure are taking their precious time. My fine ass could be exploring South Korea right now.” Your eyes begin to glow with a golden hue in agitation. Ju-hee chuckles under her breath, giving your hand a soft apologetic pat.
In your previous life, living in the real world, you had never even stepped foot on an airplane. Never got to travel and see the world or experience different cultures like you wanted to. Now that you have been given a second chance, you want to live your life to the fullest. Sit atop the Skytree in Japan, walk across the Great Wall of China, eat authentic pasta dishes in Italy, and taste those pastries shaped like fruit that you’ve seen in videos. ‘Fall in love…REAL love…not the version of love I was subjected to in my old life.’ Your thoughts are halted when you hear the sound of a door opening and closing. In walks the two objects of your ire, padding across the office floor with an air of nonchalance, as if they didn't just have you and Ju-hee waiting almost an hour for their arrival.
“Forgive us for the delay. There was a separate matter we had to attend to. You have already met Mr. Woo Jin-chul.” Mr. Woo bows slightly at the waist in greeting, allowing Chairman Go to continue speaking. “I hope you don't mind, but we'll be having some additional guests joining us.” Chairman Go explains without giving you a chance to agree. Your eyes roll in exasperation, “Greeeeat–more people to waste my time.” A weary sigh bursts from your lips as you mumble under your breath. “Are we going to have to wait for them to arrive as well, or can we get this over with?”
My eyes sharpen at the snarl that simmers beneath her tone. ‘Hmm…she’s bratty. Something tells me Hunter Sung will have his hands full dealing with her.’ When we first stepped into my office, I was almost overwhelmed by the energy that shines brilliantly from her body. Her aura rivals many of our S-rank hunters, and we have yet to evaluate her successfully. My boisterous laugh reverberates through the four walls of my office as I choose to ignore her sarcastic comment. “We don't want to take up too much of your time, so we’ll get started.” Woo Jin-chul hands me the small file that we have compiled with the little information we know about her.
“Now, three weeks ago, you told Mr. Woo that you moved here from America and passed out on the sidewalk due to lack of food and drink–is that correct?” My gaze pierces through her, searching for a single shred of inaccuracy or false claims. “That’s right. That day I had been running errands and completing tasks. When I have a list of things to do, eating and staying hydrated are not at the top of it. Is that a crime?” She tilts her head, narrowing her gaze in irritation. I cross my arms over my chest as I lean back in my chair, an amused smirk gracing my lips.
“Of course not, Miss. While you have not committed a crime, you are still an ‘unknown entity,’ and that makes you a threat to this country.” My voice deepens at the edges of my words, making her hands clench in the fabric of her off-the-shoulder blouse. For a moment, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me when I see hers flash gold. My eyebrow raises minutely, questioning her challenge with my own. She leans forward in her seat, eyes blazing with defiance. A devious grin plasters itself over her mouth, like a secret only she and the walls know.
“If I were a threat to this country, Chairman Go, it would have already been burned to the ground; I would be standing in its ashes, and you–would be dead.”
Silence greets the four of us as her words suffocate the office in its unrelenting claws. Woo Jin-chul takes a subtle step forward, not knowing if her words were a silent threat or a dangerous promise, but ready to sacrifice his life for his home just the same. Before anyone can say anything else, the door to my office opens again, carrying the person that I have been waiting for through it.
The tension that was slowly filling the room after your bold statement oozes through the cracks of the door, signaling the arrival of the additional guests Chairman Go unofficially invited. As he stands from his chair, you follow his lead, listening to the names of the people he introduces; names that you have heard through your TV screen. “This is Choi Jong-in and Baek Yoon-ho; they are the Masters of their own guilds here in South Korea.” Both of them are too captivated by your presence to respond. You bow your head slightly to them in greeting, trying not to squeal like a fangirl at the sight of them. “It’s nice to meet you both.” They finally snap out of their stupor to shake your hand, cheeks flushed and eyes gleaming with unfiltered awe.
Suddenly, Xylem and Yarnyx become restless beside you. Their glowing orbs circle you rapidly.
Xylem: Someone dangerous is coming. The power that radiates from them is extraordinary…
Yarnyx: Normally, I would rather chop my own head off than agree with Xy–but he’s right. You could combine every person’s power level in this office, except for yours, of course, and it still wouldn't come close to theirs.
Xylem: I told you to stop calling me by that idiotic nickname.
Yarnyx: Oh, I'm sorry, you're absolutely right! Let me rephrase–I would rather chop my own head off than agree with this arrogant, pompous, recycled piece of JACKASS.
Xylem growls in anger at Yarnyx while he tells him where he can shove his head. You ignore their childish bickering in favor of attempting to locate the reason why your skin begins pebbling. Like there is a buzz underneath your skin, intensifying with every bated breath you hold on to. Chairman Go turns toward the door again, speaking to the figure that has walked through.
“Ah, good, you finally made it, Hunter Sung.”
Your body ignites at his name. A burning sensation like liquid steel being poured into your veins shoots through your spine, raising the hairs on your neck. With your back facing the door, you can't tell what he looks like yet, or what expression he's wearing. Taking a deep breath to center yourself, you slowly turn around to face him…
I don't know what I was expecting to see when I finally laid eyes on her, but nothing could have prepared me for the absolute feral and possessive feelings that shoot through my veins like lightning. The beast that has been burrowing itself under my skin roars as it bursts from my chest, enveloping me with a sudden urge to bend her over Chairman Go’s desk and claim her as MINE. The millisecond flash of my eyes glowing violet goes unnoticed by everyone but her. Her eyes flash a beautiful shade of gold as they widen while she gazes at me. I watch as her chest rises and falls with each heaving breath she takes, her heavy breast catching my attention in her off-the-shoulder blouse. I bite my tongue to keep from groaning at the sight. ‘She’s even more gorgeous than I could have imagined.’
Even from my place near the door, I can tell she barely reaches the top of my chest. Her umber skin glows beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting of Chairman Go’s office. The flared sleeves of her blouse do nothing to hide the curvaceous figure that threatens to burst from her skin-tight leggings. I lick my lips at the sliver of belly that peeks from the top of her leggings, spilling out on the sides. My eyes finally make their way to the strappy platform sandals on her feet; toes painted a pretty soft pink that matches her aura perfectly; bright, gentle, but powerful.
The whispers of my shadows start to echo in my mind, creating a symphony of allegiance toward this woman they've just met.
Queen…
Our true queen…
Beloved goddess…
Igris, Beru, and Iron swim around my shadow like sharks, waiting for the moment they can bow before her and pledge their souls to protecting her for all eternity. A screen pops up letting me know that the alternate storyline has begun and that I have officially encountered my first objective. My gaze becomes heated as I stare at her, causing her breath to hitch and shudder in her lungs.
‘Mmm–looks like the System has decided to make this woman my divine pair…and I will happily accept her as mine.’
Explicit content, unprotected sex, backstage, oral, riding jimin/doggystyle, dom jimin
Requested :)
Las Vegas, Nevada
The private dressing room still smelled like stage sweat and hairspray when the door shut behind Jimin. Las Vegas noise was muffled outside. He was still half in his concert clothes—black shirt open, chains hanging, makeup a little messed up. Blonde hair damp.
You were already there like you said you’d be.
He looked at you for a second, quiet. Then his voice came out low.
“You watched the whole thing?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You were good.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Just good?” He pushes his blonde hair back from his face.
“Fine. You were really good. Especially for Mic Drop. People lost their minds.”
Jimin smirks, reaching over to part your lips slightly with his thumb. “Tell me, how did I look?”
You try to hide your smile. “You looked hot. Really hot.”
A small smile pulled at his mouth. “Getting there.”
You roll your eyes, but your face is already warmer. “I told you I’d reward you, so here I am.”
“Reward me how?”
“However you want.” You tried to sound casual, but your voice came out quieter. “You just did a whole show. You earned it.”
Jimin’s eyes dropped over you for a second, then came back up.
The smile was gone. Something sharper settled in its place.
“However I want,” he repeated.
“Yeah.”
He sits on the couch, leans back comfortably, and spreads his legs. He puts his hands behind his head.
“On your knees, baby. C’mere.”
You drop to your knees, and slowly make your way to the couch. Between his legs. He watched you the whole time, still leaning back like he had all the time in the world.
“Take it out.”
Your hands went to his pants. You tugged them down just enough, pulled him free. He was already hard, heavy in your hand. Jimin’s breath left him slow when you wrapped your fingers around him.
“Mouth,” he said, quiet but firm. “No hands, no teeth. Be a good girl.”
You let go and leaned in. Took him between your lips. He was warm, thick, and he filled your mouth fast. You bobbed your head, trying to take more, but he didn’t move. Just kept his hands behind his head and watched.
“Deeper.”
You pushed further, eyes watering a little. He hummed low, almost pleased.
“That’s it. Good girl.”
You kept going—slow at first, then faster when he told you to. Spit started running down your chin. Every time you tried to pull back for air he reached down, hand in your hair, and held you there a second longer before letting you breathe.
“You wanted to reward me,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “So do it properly.”
He pushes your head all the way down on his cock, watching you gag–spit all over your chin. He holds your head down and thrusts into your mouth, fucking your face as he pleases.
When he pulled you off, a string of spit connected your lip to him. You were breathing hard.
“Up. Clothes off.”
You stood on shaky legs and stripped. Bra, panties, everything. He stayed sitting, still mostly dressed, chains hanging against his open shirt. He patted his thigh.
“Come here.”
You climbed onto the couch, straddling him. He didn’t let you sink down right away. Held your hips and rubbed the head of his cock against you, slow, feeling how wet you already were.
“Were you thinking about this during the show?” he asked, teasing your wet folds with the head of his cock.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I was thinking about you fucking me. Right after.”
He smirked and finally pulled you down onto him in one long slide. You both cursed. He filled you completely, stretching you around him until your thighs trembled.
“Fuck—Jimin—”
His hand covered your mouth again. “Quiet. You make noise when I say.”
He held your hips and started moving you on him—up and down, controlled, deep. Every time you tried to go faster he slowed you. Every time you clenched he stopped completely and waited until you settled again.
“Please—“
“Please what?”
“Let me move. Please, I need—”
“No.” He thrust up hard once, then went back to that slow pace. “You take what I give you.”
He kept you like that for a long time. Riding him slow, denied every time you got close. Your legs were shaking. Tears pricked your eyes from how badly you needed to come. He just watched your face, calm, chains shifting with every movement.
When he finally decided, he grabs you by your hips and pulls his cock out of you. “Get on all fours, baby.”
You nod and obey, your hands hitting the cold floor of the dressing room. He moved behind you, one hand on your hip, the other guiding himself. He pushed in slow at first, then all the way in one go. You gasped, forehead almost touching the floor.
“Fuck—”
He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started thrusting hard and deep, hips snapping against yours. The wet sound filled the small room. One hand stayed on your hip, the other tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough.
“You take it so well,” he muttered, voice rough. His other hand moves from your hip to your ass.
Smack
“Who do you belong to, pretty?”
Smack
“Use your words.”
You’re a moaning mess. All you can think of is how much you want to cum, and you cannot comprehend that he wants you to talk back.
Smack
He tugs on your hair, pulling your head all the way back. “I said who do you belong to? Talk to me, naughty girl.”
“Y-you.” You manage to say weakly.
His thrusts get more aggressive, and the sounds of your bodies fill the room. He pulls his cock out–leaving only the tip inside, and pounds right back into you. You gasp and moan his name.
“Please, Jimin—please let me come—”
“Not yet.”
He fucked you like that until your knees hurt and your voice was breaking. Then he reached under you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles while his cock kept pounding into you.
“Now. Come.”
You came hard, shaking, a broken sound leaving your throat as you clenched around him. He didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, chasing his own release, then suddenly pulled out. “Turn around. Face up.”
You flipped onto your back, still breathing hard. Jimin stroked himself fast over your face, eyes dark, blonde hair falling forward.
“Open.”
You opened your mouth. He came with a low groan, thick ropes landing across your cheeks, your lips, some of it on your tongue. He kept stroking until he was done, then wiped the head of his cock against your bottom lip.
For a minute the only noise was both of you breathing and the distant sound of the venue shutting down outside.
Jimin sat back on his heels, looking down at you. He reached out and wiped a bit of cum from your cheek with his thumb, then pushed it into your mouth.
“Swallow.”
You did.
He huffed a quiet laugh and pulled you up into his lap on the floor, arms wrapping around you even though you were both messy.
“Still think you’re the one rewarding me?” he asked, voice softer now.
You managed a weak laugh. “Shut up.” You stayed there for a second, forehead against his shoulder. Then you shifted, sliding down out of his lap until you were on your knees again between his legs. His cock was still half-hard, shiny and messy.
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Rewarding you,” you said, quiet. “For real this time.”
You leaned in and licked a slow stripe from the base of his cock up to the head. He hissed through his teeth. You took him into your mouth again, softer this time, cleaning him up with your tongue. The taste of both of you mixed together. You worked him slow and careful until he started getting hard again in your mouth.
His hand settled in your hair, not pushing, just resting there.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Still on your knees.”
You hummed around him and kept going—taking him deeper, sucking harder when he twitched. Spit and leftover cum made everything slick. You used your hand this time, stroking what you couldn’t fit, twisting a little on the upstroke the way you knew he liked.
Jimin threw his head back against the couch. A low groan left his throat. “Fuck… that’s it, baby.”
You pulled off just long enough to look up at him. “You earned it. The whole show. Mic Drop. Everything.”
Then you took him back in, faster now. Bobbing your head, cheeks hollowed, eyes watering again when he hit the back of your throat. His hips started moving in small thrusts. You let him. Let him use your mouth however he wanted while you stayed on your knees on the cold floor.
When he got close his fingers tightened in your hair.
“I’m gonna—”
You didn’t pull away. You stayed right there, sucking him through it as he came a second time with a rough groan, spilling across your tongue. You swallowed everything he gave you, kept licking until he was too sensitive and gently pushed your head back.
Jimin looked down at you, chest rising and falling hard, blonde hair a mess, chains still hanging against his open shirt. He wiped your bottom lip with his thumb again, softer this time.
“Come here.”
You climbed back into his lap. He wrapped both arms around you and held you tight, face buried in your neck.
“Okay,” he said after a minute, voice quiet. “Now you rewarded me.”
You smiled against his shoulder. “Told you I would.”
summary: in which, you, the reader, and your friends, summon a 500 year old demon.
If your best friend lit one more piece of sage, you were gonna choke out of sheer spite. Your best friend was deeply, and aggressively spiritual, and into the occult. Which usually meant she spent too much money on shiny rocks to “fix her aura” instead of going to therapy, and blamed her horrible decisions on Mercury being in retrograde.
But tonight, she had a wild look in her eye. The kind of look where you could TELL something was gonna go wrong.
She got up grabbing a candle from her counter, lighting it before cutting out the main lights. She pulled out a velvet pouch from under her couch. She places the board on the floor between you.
“Tonight,” she starts. Here we go again. “tonight we pierce the veil between the living and the dead.” She whispers, her face illuminated by a single bath and body works vanilla candle.
“Bitch, where the fuck did you get an ouija board from??” You paused, a chip hovering inches from your mouth.
“That isn’t important right now, this is a conduit for the afterlife.” She glares at you.
“So can you tell me exactly WHY, we’re piercing the veil at midnight on a Friday night?” You asked.
“Because my love life is a fucking graveyard and I need answers.” She insisted placing the plastic piece in the middle of the board. “Either that, or the spirits can at least tell me if my ex is miserable without me.” Here she fucking goes.
“The last time we did this, you claimed a spirit told you to quit your job to become…whatever this is. Please do not let a demon ruin my perfectly great weekend.”
“Don’t disrespect the spirits, we need to channel our deepest, most desperate inner desires to anchor a soul.” You sigh putting your bag of chips down.
“Fine.” You say giving in and putting your fingertips lightly on the plastic piece. Your best friend closes her eyes, breathing in deeply.
“Is there a wandering soul among us? Someone to fulfill our deepest cravings? Give us a sign.” Silence fills the room. And nothing happened.
You roll your eyes. “This is stupid there is no spi-” The plastic piece jerked under your fingers. It didn’t just drift it aggressively slid across the board.
It shot straight to NO. Then back to the middle of the board
Your best friend gasped and looked at you. “It just fucking answered. Wait, no to what exactly? Is there not a soul here?” The planchette immediately dragged your hands back to NO.
“Okayyy… so either the ghost is a liar or it’s actively telling us it isn’t here. Which means we’re speaking to a brick wall.” You roll your eyes.
“Shutup let me ask again.” She stammered leaning closer to the board. “Spirit, are you benevolent force? Do you bring us wisdom?”
The planchette didn’t hesitate. It aggressively slammed into the letters H and A over and over again, then spelled out DUMBASS.
“Is it laughing at me?” Your friend asks. You laugh.
“See bitch even the ghost thinks you’re a dumbass. Because we already started and I’m bored, let me ask it a question. Hey ghost, when is my future boyfriend coming into my life?” You ask. After a few seconds it was pure silence. You best friend laughs and points at you.
“You were laughing at it calling me a dumbass but the ghost just basically told you you’ll be lonely for the rest of your life.” Before you could argue, the room temperature instantly plummeted from a comfortable 72 degrees to a freezing zero. The candle kept its flame. And it shrunk down to a weird shade of violet.
The planchette started moving on its own again spinning in aggressive, erratic circles in the center of the board.
“This isn’t funny stop moving it!” She says. You look at her.
“I’m not moving it!” The planchette kept moving, completely out of your control.
“Okay, okay abort the mission, this shit is broken.” She takes her fingers off of the planchette before shivering from the cold.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to move it to goodbye?” She rolls her eyes taking the ouija board and putting it back in the velvet pouch.
The lights flicker back on then back off. and the room is brought back to its regular temperature.
“Fuck that ghost and fuck it’s goodbye. I didn’t get the answer I wanted. I’ll try again another time.” She says getting up and walking to her room leaving you in the living room.
You stand up, alone in the pitch black living room, utterly stunned. You look at the velvet pouch where the ouija board was in on the floor. You shake your head.
“Why the fuck did I agree to this.” You say shivering one last time. Your sweatpants suddenly felt too thin.
You finally dragged yourself to your best friends extra guest room. The room suddenly felt crowded. Then came a sound. A tiny clink from the nightstand. You slowly turn and look over. One of your best friends overpriced amethyst crystal had drifted from its original spot on its own.
You shake your head. “Great now I’m seeing shit.” You thought before rolling your eyes and crawling into the bed pulling the blanket up to your chin.
3 am.
Falling sleep after a botched demonic summoning is an extreme sport. You spent 40 minutes buried under the blanket, staring at the wall, and trying to convince yourself that the purple crystal shifting on its own was normal behavior that happened when you were over at your best friends house.
When you were finally about to drift off, you felt a sudden sharp tug at your blanket. You eyes shot open and you look down at your blanket gone from off of your body. You look at the corner of the room, your blanket piled on the floor.
“Very fucking funny.” You mutter to yourself. Getting up to grab the blanket pulling it back over your body and settling into the bed.
Two minutes passed. The blanket is yanked off of you again. This time in the other corner of the room.
“Are you deadass?” You sit up in irritation. You march over snatching the blanket off of the floor again and wrapping it around yourself like a burrito, laying back down again. You close your eyes.
“Do you feel better?” A low voice whispered in your ear. Your eyes shot open again, your heart slammed against your ribs. As your brain tried to scramble to process the terrifyingly attractive voice.
Before you could even scream or insult the voice. A sudden heavy weight crashed down on your chest, pinning you flat. Your eyes snapped open, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t blink. The outlines of your best friends spare bedroom began to warp and stretch. Until the only thing you could hear was the steady rhythmic thump of a heartbeat that wasn’t yours.
You feel yourself falling. Sinking through the mattress. When your feet finally hit solid ground, your paralysis vanished.
You gasped, blinking rapidly as your senses rushed back in. This wasn’t a normal dream. You could feel the heavy, humid heat of the air pressing against your skin.
You were standing in a grand bedroom, made entirely of ink black stone, lit only by the moon shining through the curtains.
"Wow," you muttered, looking down at yourself. "My brain went full fanfiction tonight."
“Are you ready to admit the board worked?” Materializing out of the shadows was a man who looked like he could ruin your life. He was handsome, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and dark eyes. Massive wings spread out from his back casting a shadow that basically swallows the whole room. His black shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his tattooed chest.
“So the fuck ass Target ouija board did work.” You mumble to yourself. He took a slow step toward you. The space between you vanishing. He was an entity of pure desire. You knew that much.
“I have a proposition for you. I can grant you exactly what you desire.” Before you could crack a joke or respond. A wave of pure intense heat flooded your veins washing away every ounce of sarcasm in your body. Your heart shattered against your ribs.
Your breath hitched as his cool hand slid up the side of your neck, his thumb titling your chin up. He tilts your head to the side exposing your neck to him before you feel his tongue sliding up the side of your neck.
“Mmm,” he mumbles and lick his lips. Oh. Your brain panicked, short circuiting as he pinned you back against the huge black velvet draped mattress. He pins your hands above your head. He snaps, and your clothes suddenly disappearing from your body.
Before you could protest, he scans your naked body, taking in the sight, and licking his lips.
“I wonder how you taste” He leaned down, running his tongue along your slit experimentally, tasting you. He looked up to gauge your reaction—your face was flushed, your eyes half-lidded with arousal. He slowly sucked on one of your clit lips softly. “So fucking good.”
You gasped, moaning softly. He hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through you. He gripped your thick thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, feasting on you like a starving man. His tongue pushed deep inside, mimicking the action of sex. He was determined to make you come undone beneath him. Oh, he is not playing games. The Target board ghost was not a joke.
“F-fuck,” you throw your head back moaning. He caught your gasp, his tongue pushing deeper as he continued his assault on your clit. He'd been at this for what seemed like minutes, his own erection growing harder. "Shit," he muttered against your skin, the heat of his mouth making your body tense.
“I-oh fuck.” You moan as he buried his face between your legs, eating you out like his life depended on it. Your loud moans and writhing body only fuelled his hunger more. You gripped the sheets as you moaned beneath him. He moaned into you, the vibrations making your body jerk. He pushed two fingers inside you suddenly, curling them to hit that spot deep inside while his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit.
You moan louder, trying to move back to get away. You couldn’t take it. He grabbed your hips, holding you in place as he continued to fuck you with his fingers and tongue. He could feel your body trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, but he wasn't having it. He wanted you to come all over his face. "Nuh-uh," your loud moans and squirms only made him more aroused. Made him want more.
He pushed his fingers deeper, curling them to hit the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. “Never met a human as wet as you.” He sucked hard on your clit. You were so close, he could feel it.
“Cum for me.” he commanded against your clit, not slowing down. His fingers curled harder, hitting that spot repeatedly. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, your thighs trembling violently. He sucked harder, determined to taste your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking, your back arching off the bed as you teetered on the edge.
As soon as you came, he pulled his fingers out and began sucking hard on your clit to prolong your orgasm. He swallowed every drop of your release greedily, moaning against your pussy as he continued to eat you through your orgasm and beyond. "Fuck..."
He continued to lick and suck at your sensitive pussy drawing out your orgasm till you were reduced to a moaning mess on the bed. He pulled back finally, looking down at you and licking his fingers smirking.
“You really do taste delicious.” You pant heavily not even beginning to understand what just happened.
When your eyes snapped open the next morning, daylight was streaming through the bedroom blinds.You sat bolt upright in bed, your heart still racing, your skin flushed and tangled in your blankets.
You stared blankly at the wall for a full two minutes, your face burning with a mix of absolute shock and profound embarrassment."Holy shit," you whispered into the empty room, burying your face in your hands.
Your best friend was already awake and in the kitchen,completely oblivious to the fact that her single-minded desire for a hot boyfriend had just unleashed a supernatural menace directly into your libido.
You threw off the covers, your legs feeling weak as you stood up. You looked down at your worn-out sweatpants, you felt exhausted for some reason.
I am never letting her buy occult toys again, you thought, grabbing your phone with shaking hands.
[ 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ]↳ #incubus!jk #jungkook x reader #smut #heavy fluff #gothic comedy #ouija board sleepover mishap #reader insert #unbothered main character #dream weaving #witching hour chaos #the target board was a mistake
A/N- i haven’t seen anyone do this yet so I thought why not try lol. Hope you enjoyed all likes comments and reposts are appreciated <3.
[incubus mechanics: a summary ]An incubus is a dream parasite that survives entirely on human life force and sexual energy. By invading the mind during sleep paralysis, they construct hyper-realistic dreamscapes to overwhelm the victim's senses. Every touch, kiss, or climax inside the dream acts as a literal siphon-draining the human's battery to fuel the demon's power, leaving the victim waking up completely exhausted, pale, and desperately craving the next sunset.
If you missed part one I’ll link it down belowww. Enjoy.
<IC1
You dragged your feet down the hallway to the kitchen, every muscle in your body feeling completely turned into jelly. Your brain was still a chaotic blur of the attractive man face down between your thighs in your dream. You walked into the kitchen leaning against the counter letting out an exhausted groan.
Your friend paused mid flipping a pancake, staring at you and your disheveled state and flushed face. Her jaw dropped.
“Bitch what the fuck happened to you?? You didn’t look like this last night.” You stared at her blankly, your voice completely deadpan.
"My life force is at exactly zero percent right now, why? I don't fucking know." You didn't say anything else. You couldn't. You silently bypassed your best friend in the kitchen grabbing a bowl of cereal like a zombie and marched straight to the living room couch.
You collapsed into the cushions, sighing as you sat down, and your legs tingling with a heavy, drained sensation that you couldn't name. You just knew it felt too real.
Did I have a wet dream? You thought to yourself before setting the bowl of cereal into your lap. You pulled out your phone. Your face was still burning of embarrassment, but your brain needed answers.
You opened an incognito tab, because there was no fucking way you were letting this stay in your digital footprint. You stared at the blank cursor.
That dropped you into the weird part of the internet. You clicked on a shady Yahoo Answers archive from 2014, but it was just a bunch of randoms arguing about whether ghosts could see you naked in the shower. Useful but not what you wanted to see.
You sighed, aggressively rubbing your eyes before typing out another search query that summed up your crisis.
Surprisingly your search led you to a sketchy old occult forum with a pitch black background.
You scrolled down to a thread titled “Ouija board mishaps”, and your eyes locked onto a response from an anonymous user.
“If you didn’t say goodbye to the board, you left a portal open. If you ever wake up feeling like your body got ran over by a truck but your brain is still hyper fixated on the entity from your sleep, you were visited by an incubus.”
“I told this bitch to say goodbye to the board.” You grumble, but you ate your cereal and kept reading.
“An incubus, is a subconscious parasite. They do not eat food, they feed entirely on human life force and sexual energy. They use hypnotic aura to scramble your logic so you submit. Incubi drains your battery to sustain themselves and survive.”
You stared blankly at the screen, then at your hands, then at your legs that still felt wobbly.
An incubus? If she had just said goodbye to the stupid board you wouldn’t be in this situation.
After enduring another three hours of your best friend trying to “cleanse” your aura with a singing bowl and a crystal grid, you finally managed to escape.
The second you unlocked the door to your apartment, you let out a sigh of relief. You dropped your keys on the table at the entryway of the front door, kicked off your shoes and went straight to your kitchen to get a glass of water.
You set your phone down on the counter, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and pouring the water.
You turned back to get your phone, your phone was gone. You blinked at the countertop.
“I just put it right there.” You mutter to yourself. You look around only to find your phone sitting on the coffee table in the living room.
You walk over to grab your phone sitting down on the couch.
“I think this bitch deep fried my brain. I’m seeing things now.” You take a sip of water before setting the cup down on the coffee table and scrolling through your phone.
By the time you reach back out for your water cup, it was gone. You look down, then your eyes scan the kitchen to find your water cup on the kitchen counter.
“Okay so maybe I’m not seeing things.” Determined to prove a point, you walk to the kitchen and set your phone down on the counter again. You stared at it for a few seconds, it didn’t move.
You roll your eyes sighing. “Maybe I am” you look back at the kitchen counter to find your phone gone again.
A low deep chuckle vibrated inside your mind. You stared at your phone on the coffee table in the living room again before looking up at the ceiling not bothering to figure out who you were talking to and why.
“I swear I’m being gaslit by a ghost.”
3 am.
You woke up with a violent jolt. You eyes snapped open in the pitch black of your bedroom, the air was freezing. You could see your own breath in the dark. You shiver and wrap yourself in your blanket tightly before reaching over to grab your phone.
3 am. Before you could sigh at the cliche horror movie timing, a heavy pressure dropped over your chest pinning you to your bed flat.
The mattress dipped. Right between your thighs. You gasp as your heart slams against your chest. Your eyes trying to adjust to the dark. Pinning your hips down was the exact man from your dream.
Except he wasn’t a shadow or a hallucination anymore. The heat radiating off of his skin through the freezing air of your bedroom. His massive midnight black wings flared out from his back touching the ceiling and blocking out the moonlight shining through your window.
He stares down at you with an intense hunger. His hand gripped your chin exposing your neck to him before he leans down and takes a whiff sighing.
You grow irritated. “Did you just come here to sniff me or to haunt me?” He chuckles before licking your neck slowly savoring your taste before looking down at you beneath him.
“Did you think I only exist when you dream?” He murmured. His voice vibrating in the dark room.
“Target ouija board ghost came to murder me at 3 am. That’s exactly how I wanted to spend my night.” You rolled your eyes.
“Shut up. Do not mock me human. Your dream isn’t enough to satisfy me anymore. It got rather boring staying in there. You have such weird imaginations.” He leans closer his cool hand sliding up your neck, his thumb tilting your chin up.
He looked devastatingly hot, his breath hot against your lips. Completely overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t understand what it was, but it was hypnotic. It made you give in almost immediately.
“You know you could at least get to know me first before taking my energy every night.”
He chuckles again, his dark eyes burning into yours. His gaze dropping to your lips then back up at your face.
He snaps his fingers. Your clothes are gone again. Why did that turn you on so much?
“I’ve been tasting your thoughts all day,” he murmured before sliding down your body. “But I’m starving. And I’m not leaving until I’ve eaten every single drop of your energy.”
He spreads your thighs, setting them on his broad shoulders, and leaned in pressing his face between your thighs. He wasted no time, his tongue pressing flat against your center and licking slowly up the length of your fold. He could already taste your sweetness, smell your desire. His eyes rolled back as he continued to lick and suck, making soft slapping noises against your wet pussy.
You throw your head back in pleasure, gripping your mattress tightly. He groaned into your pussy, grinding his face deeper between your thighs. His tongue worked in slow deliberate strokes. He could taste how wet you were for him, how much you wanted this. His hands gripped your thighs holding them wide open as he devoured you.
“F-fuckk.” You moaned. Your voice cracking with pleasure. He doubled his efforts, his tongue flicking against your clit. He sucked harder and harder drawing out every drop and juice you had in your body. It felt so good. Like he was sucking your very soul out of your body.
He wanted to feel you cum on his face. He wanted to taste it. Your body tensed up, your thighs squeezing his head as you screamed and came hard, your pussy clenching, and your juices spilling onto his tongue.
He drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, drinking everything. He breathed against your soaked folds, looking up at you with hungry eyes.
He didn’t stop immediately, his tongue kept moving as your orgasm slowly subsided, sucking all the last drops from your body. He wanted to be thorough and make sure you were completely drained.
He licks your juices off of his lips. “So good.” He slid back up your body, his heavy, burning chest pressing flat against yours as he pinned your wrists to the mattress above your head. He dipped his face directly into the crook of your neck, his nose scraping aggressively against your sensitive skin as he took a deep, heavy breath.
“God,” he rumbled his voice dropping into a low growl that vibrated straight through your spine. “Nothing turns me on more than the smell of a drained human. You smell like pure submission.”
You let out a trembling exhale. Your heart doing flips. The dominance in his voice sent an instant wave of heat rushing back between your thighs, making you ache again despite you feeling completely drained.
You stared up at him, your voice coming out breathless. “Im glad my near death experience is a turn on for you. I can’t move.” He let out a low, deep chuckle, his thumb tracing a circle over your hip.
“Good, that means you won’t go anywhere.”
a/n: guys please leave comments and tell me what you think, I take constructive criticism. All likes comments reposts follows are all appreciated. Hope you enjoyed <3
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summary: in which, you, the reader, and your friends, summon a 500 year old demon.
If your best friend lit one more piece of sage, you were gonna choke out of sheer spite. Your best friend was deeply, and aggressively spiritual, and into the occult. Which usually meant she spent too much money on shiny rocks to “fix her aura” instead of going to therapy, and blamed her horrible decisions on Mercury being in retrograde.
But tonight, she had a wild look in her eye. The kind of look where you could TELL something was gonna go wrong.
She got up grabbing a candle from her counter, lighting it before cutting out the main lights. She pulled out a velvet pouch from under her couch. She places the board on the floor between you.
“Tonight,” she starts. Here we go again. “tonight we pierce the veil between the living and the dead.” She whispers, her face illuminated by a single bath and body works vanilla candle.
“Bitch, where the fuck did you get an ouija board from??” You paused, a chip hovering inches from your mouth.
“That isn’t important right now, this is a conduit for the afterlife.” She glares at you.
“So can you tell me exactly WHY, we’re piercing the veil at midnight on a Friday night?” You asked.
“Because my love life is a fucking graveyard and I need answers.” She insisted placing the plastic piece in the middle of the board. “Either that, or the spirits can at least tell me if my ex is miserable without me.” Here she fucking goes.
“The last time we did this, you claimed a spirit told you to quit your job to become…whatever this is. Please do not let a demon ruin my perfectly great weekend.”
“Don’t disrespect the spirits, we need to channel our deepest, most desperate inner desires to anchor a soul.” You sigh putting your bag of chips down.
“Fine.” You say giving in and putting your fingertips lightly on the plastic piece. Your best friend closes her eyes, breathing in deeply.
“Is there a wandering soul among us? Someone to fulfill our deepest cravings? Give us a sign.” Silence fills the room. And nothing happened.
You roll your eyes. “This is stupid there is no spi-” The plastic piece jerked under your fingers. It didn’t just drift it aggressively slid across the board.
It shot straight to NO. Then back to the middle of the board
Your best friend gasped and looked at you. “It just fucking answered. Wait, no to what exactly? Is there not a soul here?” The planchette immediately dragged your hands back to NO.
“Okayyy… so either the ghost is a liar or it’s actively telling us it isn’t here. Which means we’re speaking to a brick wall.” You roll your eyes.
“Shutup let me ask again.” She stammered leaning closer to the board. “Spirit, are you benevolent force? Do you bring us wisdom?”
The planchette didn’t hesitate. It aggressively slammed into the letters H and A over and over again, then spelled out DUMBASS.
“Is it laughing at me?” Your friend asks. You laugh.
“See bitch even the ghost thinks you’re a dumbass. Because we already started and I’m bored, let me ask it a question. Hey ghost, when is my future boyfriend coming into my life?” You ask. After a few seconds it was pure silence. You best friend laughs and points at you.
“You were laughing at it calling me a dumbass but the ghost just basically told you you’ll be lonely for the rest of your life.” Before you could argue, the room temperature instantly plummeted from a comfortable 72 degrees to a freezing zero. The candle kept its flame. And it shrunk down to a weird shade of violet.
The planchette started moving on its own again spinning in aggressive, erratic circles in the center of the board.
“This isn’t funny stop moving it!” She says. You look at her.
“I’m not moving it!” The planchette kept moving, completely out of your control.
“Okay, okay abort the mission, this shit is broken.” She takes her fingers off of the planchette before shivering from the cold.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to move it to goodbye?” She rolls her eyes taking the ouija board and putting it back in the velvet pouch.
The lights flicker back on then back off. and the room is brought back to its regular temperature.
“Fuck that ghost and fuck it’s goodbye. I didn’t get the answer I wanted. I’ll try again another time.” She says getting up and walking to her room leaving you in the living room.
You stand up, alone in the pitch black living room, utterly stunned. You look at the velvet pouch where the ouija board was in on the floor. You shake your head.
“Why the fuck did I agree to this.” You say shivering one last time. Your sweatpants suddenly felt too thin.
You finally dragged yourself to your best friends extra guest room. The room suddenly felt crowded. Then came a sound. A tiny clink from the nightstand. You slowly turn and look over. One of your best friends overpriced amethyst crystal had drifted from its original spot on its own.
You shake your head. “Great now I’m seeing shit.” You thought before rolling your eyes and crawling into the bed pulling the blanket up to your chin.
3 am.
Falling sleep after a botched demonic summoning is an extreme sport. You spent 40 minutes buried under the blanket, staring at the wall, and trying to convince yourself that the purple crystal shifting on its own was normal behavior that happened when you were over at your best friends house.
When you were finally about to drift off, you felt a sudden sharp tug at your blanket. You eyes shot open and you look down at your blanket gone from off of your body. You look at the corner of the room, your blanket piled on the floor.
“Very fucking funny.” You mutter to yourself. Getting up to grab the blanket pulling it back over your body and settling into the bed.
Two minutes passed. The blanket is yanked off of you again. This time in the other corner of the room.
“Are you deadass?” You sit up in irritation. You march over snatching the blanket off of the floor again and wrapping it around yourself like a burrito, laying back down again. You close your eyes.
“Do you feel better?” A low voice whispered in your ear. Your eyes shot open again, your heart slammed against your ribs. As your brain tried to scramble to process the terrifyingly attractive voice.
Before you could even scream or insult the voice. A sudden heavy weight crashed down on your chest, pinning you flat. Your eyes snapped open, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t blink. The outlines of your best friends spare bedroom began to warp and stretch. Until the only thing you could hear was the steady rhythmic thump of a heartbeat that wasn’t yours.
You feel yourself falling. Sinking through the mattress. When your feet finally hit solid ground, your paralysis vanished.
You gasped, blinking rapidly as your senses rushed back in. This wasn’t a normal dream. You could feel the heavy, humid heat of the air pressing against your skin.
You were standing in a grand bedroom, made entirely of ink black stone, lit only by the moon shining through the curtains.
"Wow," you muttered, looking down at yourself. "My brain went full fanfiction tonight."
“Are you ready to admit the board worked?” Materializing out of the shadows was a man who looked like he could ruin your life. He was handsome, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and dark eyes. Massive wings spread out from his back casting a shadow that basically swallows the whole room. His black shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his tattooed chest.
“So the fuck ass Target ouija board did work.” You mumble to yourself. He took a slow step toward you. The space between you vanishing. He was an entity of pure desire. You knew that much.
“I have a proposition for you. I can grant you exactly what you desire.” Before you could crack a joke or respond. A wave of pure intense heat flooded your veins washing away every ounce of sarcasm in your body. Your heart shattered against your ribs.
Your breath hitched as his cool hand slid up the side of your neck, his thumb titling your chin up. He tilts your head to the side exposing your neck to him before you feel his tongue sliding up the side of your neck.
“Mmm,” he mumbles and lick his lips. Oh. Your brain panicked, short circuiting as he pinned you back against the huge black velvet draped mattress. He pins your hands above your head. He snaps, and your clothes suddenly disappearing from your body.
Before you could protest, he scans your naked body, taking in the sight, and licking his lips.
“I wonder how you taste” He leaned down, running his tongue along your slit experimentally, tasting you. He looked up to gauge your reaction—your face was flushed, your eyes half-lidded with arousal. He slowly sucked on one of your clit lips softly. “So fucking good.”
You gasped, moaning softly. He hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through you. He gripped your thick thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, feasting on you like a starving man. His tongue pushed deep inside, mimicking the action of sex. He was determined to make you come undone beneath him. Oh, he is not playing games. The Target board ghost was not a joke.
“F-fuck,” you throw your head back moaning. He caught your gasp, his tongue pushing deeper as he continued his assault on your clit. He'd been at this for what seemed like minutes, his own erection growing harder. "Shit," he muttered against your skin, the heat of his mouth making your body tense.
“I-oh fuck.” You moan as he buried his face between your legs, eating you out like his life depended on it. Your loud moans and writhing body only fuelled his hunger more. You gripped the sheets as you moaned beneath him. He moaned into you, the vibrations making your body jerk. He pushed two fingers inside you suddenly, curling them to hit that spot deep inside while his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit.
You moan louder, trying to move back to get away. You couldn’t take it. He grabbed your hips, holding you in place as he continued to fuck you with his fingers and tongue. He could feel your body trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, but he wasn't having it. He wanted you to come all over his face. "Nuh-uh," your loud moans and squirms only made him more aroused. Made him want more.
He pushed his fingers deeper, curling them to hit the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. “Never met a human as wet as you.” He sucked hard on your clit. You were so close, he could feel it.
“Cum for me.” he commanded against your clit, not slowing down. His fingers curled harder, hitting that spot repeatedly. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, your thighs trembling violently. He sucked harder, determined to taste your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking, your back arching off the bed as you teetered on the edge.
As soon as you came, he pulled his fingers out and began sucking hard on your clit to prolong your orgasm. He swallowed every drop of your release greedily, moaning against your pussy as he continued to eat you through your orgasm and beyond. "Fuck..."
He continued to lick and suck at your sensitive pussy drawing out your orgasm till you were reduced to a moaning mess on the bed. He pulled back finally, looking down at you and licking his fingers smirking.
“You really do taste delicious.” You pant heavily not even beginning to understand what just happened.
When your eyes snapped open the next morning, daylight was streaming through the bedroom blinds.You sat bolt upright in bed, your heart still racing, your skin flushed and tangled in your blankets.
You stared blankly at the wall for a full two minutes, your face burning with a mix of absolute shock and profound embarrassment."Holy shit," you whispered into the empty room, burying your face in your hands.
Your best friend was already awake and in the kitchen,completely oblivious to the fact that her single-minded desire for a hot boyfriend had just unleashed a supernatural menace directly into your libido.
You threw off the covers, your legs feeling weak as you stood up. You looked down at your worn-out sweatpants, you felt exhausted for some reason.
I am never letting her buy occult toys again, you thought, grabbing your phone with shaking hands.
[ 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ]↳ #incubus!jk #jungkook x reader #smut #heavy fluff #gothic comedy #ouija board sleepover mishap #reader insert #unbothered main character #dream weaving #witching hour chaos #the target board was a mistake
A/N- i haven’t seen anyone do this yet so I thought why not try lol. Hope you enjoyed all likes comments and reposts are appreciated <3.
➭ “Prince Jimin was born with blue blood. His coronation is rapidly approaching, but there are two requirements he must fulfil before becoming a king. He must have the skills to fight in battle, and he must have a Queen with blood as blue as his. You, a member of the royal guard, are assigned to teach Jimin the ins and outs of combat. You are not scared of death, of blood, or of battle. What you are scared of however, is falling in love with Jimin, the one man your blood decrees you can never have.”
pairing: jimin x reader
genre: royalty au, smut, angst
wordcount: 26k
❀ 1 / 8 of my oneshot requests ❀
** warnings: this is angsty!, jimin is a light dom, slow burn, violence, mentions of blood, heavy themes, lots of drama, character death
summary: in which, you, the reader, and your friends, summon a 500 year old demon.
If your best friend lit one more piece of sage, you were gonna choke out of sheer spite. Your best friend was deeply, and aggressively spiritual, and into the occult. Which usually meant she spent too much money on shiny rocks to “fix her aura” instead of going to therapy, and blamed her horrible decisions on Mercury being in retrograde.
But tonight, she had a wild look in her eye. The kind of look where you could TELL something was gonna go wrong.
She got up grabbing a candle from her counter, lighting it before cutting out the main lights. She pulled out a velvet pouch from under her couch. She places the board on the floor between you.
“Tonight,” she starts. Here we go again. “tonight we pierce the veil between the living and the dead.” She whispers, her face illuminated by a single bath and body works vanilla candle.
“Bitch, where the fuck did you get an ouija board from??” You paused, a chip hovering inches from your mouth.
“That isn’t important right now, this is a conduit for the afterlife.” She glares at you.
“So can you tell me exactly WHY, we’re piercing the veil at midnight on a Friday night?” You asked.
“Because my love life is a fucking graveyard and I need answers.” She insisted placing the plastic piece in the middle of the board. “Either that, or the spirits can at least tell me if my ex is miserable without me.” Here she fucking goes.
“The last time we did this, you claimed a spirit told you to quit your job to become…whatever this is. Please do not let a demon ruin my perfectly great weekend.”
“Don’t disrespect the spirits, we need to channel our deepest, most desperate inner desires to anchor a soul.” You sigh putting your bag of chips down.
“Fine.” You say giving in and putting your fingertips lightly on the plastic piece. Your best friend closes her eyes, breathing in deeply.
“Is there a wandering soul among us? Someone to fulfill our deepest cravings? Give us a sign.” Silence fills the room. And nothing happened.
You roll your eyes. “This is stupid there is no spi-” The plastic piece jerked under your fingers. It didn’t just drift it aggressively slid across the board.
It shot straight to NO. Then back to the middle of the board
Your best friend gasped and looked at you. “It just fucking answered. Wait, no to what exactly? Is there not a soul here?” The planchette immediately dragged your hands back to NO.
“Okayyy… so either the ghost is a liar or it’s actively telling us it isn’t here. Which means we’re speaking to a brick wall.” You roll your eyes.
“Shutup let me ask again.” She stammered leaning closer to the board. “Spirit, are you benevolent force? Do you bring us wisdom?”
The planchette didn’t hesitate. It aggressively slammed into the letters H and A over and over again, then spelled out DUMBASS.
“Is it laughing at me?” Your friend asks. You laugh.
“See bitch even the ghost thinks you’re a dumbass. Because we already started and I’m bored, let me ask it a question. Hey ghost, when is my future boyfriend coming into my life?” You ask. After a few seconds it was pure silence. You best friend laughs and points at you.
“You were laughing at it calling me a dumbass but the ghost just basically told you you’ll be lonely for the rest of your life.” Before you could argue, the room temperature instantly plummeted from a comfortable 72 degrees to a freezing zero. The candle kept its flame. And it shrunk down to a weird shade of violet.
The planchette started moving on its own again spinning in aggressive, erratic circles in the center of the board.
“This isn’t funny stop moving it!” She says. You look at her.
“I’m not moving it!” The planchette kept moving, completely out of your control.
“Okay, okay abort the mission, this shit is broken.” She takes her fingers off of the planchette before shivering from the cold.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to move it to goodbye?” She rolls her eyes taking the ouija board and putting it back in the velvet pouch.
The lights flicker back on then back off. and the room is brought back to its regular temperature.
“Fuck that ghost and fuck it’s goodbye. I didn’t get the answer I wanted. I’ll try again another time.” She says getting up and walking to her room leaving you in the living room.
You stand up, alone in the pitch black living room, utterly stunned. You look at the velvet pouch where the ouija board was in on the floor. You shake your head.
“Why the fuck did I agree to this.” You say shivering one last time. Your sweatpants suddenly felt too thin.
You finally dragged yourself to your best friends extra guest room. The room suddenly felt crowded. Then came a sound. A tiny clink from the nightstand. You slowly turn and look over. One of your best friends overpriced amethyst crystal had drifted from its original spot on its own.
You shake your head. “Great now I’m seeing shit.” You thought before rolling your eyes and crawling into the bed pulling the blanket up to your chin.
3 am.
Falling sleep after a botched demonic summoning is an extreme sport. You spent 40 minutes buried under the blanket, staring at the wall, and trying to convince yourself that the purple crystal shifting on its own was normal behavior that happened when you were over at your best friends house.
When you were finally about to drift off, you felt a sudden sharp tug at your blanket. You eyes shot open and you look down at your blanket gone from off of your body. You look at the corner of the room, your blanket piled on the floor.
“Very fucking funny.” You mutter to yourself. Getting up to grab the blanket pulling it back over your body and settling into the bed.
Two minutes passed. The blanket is yanked off of you again. This time in the other corner of the room.
“Are you deadass?” You sit up in irritation. You march over snatching the blanket off of the floor again and wrapping it around yourself like a burrito, laying back down again. You close your eyes.
“Do you feel better?” A low voice whispered in your ear. Your eyes shot open again, your heart slammed against your ribs. As your brain tried to scramble to process the terrifyingly attractive voice.
Before you could even scream or insult the voice. A sudden heavy weight crashed down on your chest, pinning you flat. Your eyes snapped open, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t blink. The outlines of your best friends spare bedroom began to warp and stretch. Until the only thing you could hear was the steady rhythmic thump of a heartbeat that wasn’t yours.
You feel yourself falling. Sinking through the mattress. When your feet finally hit solid ground, your paralysis vanished.
You gasped, blinking rapidly as your senses rushed back in. This wasn’t a normal dream. You could feel the heavy, humid heat of the air pressing against your skin.
You were standing in a grand bedroom, made entirely of ink black stone, lit only by the moon shining through the curtains.
"Wow," you muttered, looking down at yourself. "My brain went full fanfiction tonight."
“Are you ready to admit the board worked?” Materializing out of the shadows was a man who looked like he could ruin your life. He was handsome, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and dark eyes. Massive wings spread out from his back casting a shadow that basically swallows the whole room. His black shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his tattooed chest.
“So the fuck ass Target ouija board did work.” You mumble to yourself. He took a slow step toward you. The space between you vanishing. He was an entity of pure desire. You knew that much.
“I have a proposition for you. I can grant you exactly what you desire.” Before you could crack a joke or respond. A wave of pure intense heat flooded your veins washing away every ounce of sarcasm in your body. Your heart shattered against your ribs.
Your breath hitched as his cool hand slid up the side of your neck, his thumb titling your chin up. He tilts your head to the side exposing your neck to him before you feel his tongue sliding up the side of your neck.
“Mmm,” he mumbles and lick his lips. Oh. Your brain panicked, short circuiting as he pinned you back against the huge black velvet draped mattress. He pins your hands above your head. He snaps, and your clothes suddenly disappearing from your body.
Before you could protest, he scans your naked body, taking in the sight, and licking his lips.
“I wonder how you taste” He leaned down, running his tongue along your slit experimentally, tasting you. He looked up to gauge your reaction—your face was flushed, your eyes half-lidded with arousal. He slowly sucked on one of your clit lips softly. “So fucking good.”
You gasped, moaning softly. He hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through you. He gripped your thick thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, feasting on you like a starving man. His tongue pushed deep inside, mimicking the action of sex. He was determined to make you come undone beneath him. Oh, he is not playing games. The Target board ghost was not a joke.
“F-fuck,” you throw your head back moaning. He caught your gasp, his tongue pushing deeper as he continued his assault on your clit. He'd been at this for what seemed like minutes, his own erection growing harder. "Shit," he muttered against your skin, the heat of his mouth making your body tense.
“I-oh fuck.” You moan as he buried his face between your legs, eating you out like his life depended on it. Your loud moans and writhing body only fuelled his hunger more. You gripped the sheets as you moaned beneath him. He moaned into you, the vibrations making your body jerk. He pushed two fingers inside you suddenly, curling them to hit that spot deep inside while his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit.
You moan louder, trying to move back to get away. You couldn’t take it. He grabbed your hips, holding you in place as he continued to fuck you with his fingers and tongue. He could feel your body trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, but he wasn't having it. He wanted you to come all over his face. "Nuh-uh," your loud moans and squirms only made him more aroused. Made him want more.
He pushed his fingers deeper, curling them to hit the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. “Never met a human as wet as you.” He sucked hard on your clit. You were so close, he could feel it.
“Cum for me.” he commanded against your clit, not slowing down. His fingers curled harder, hitting that spot repeatedly. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, your thighs trembling violently. He sucked harder, determined to taste your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking, your back arching off the bed as you teetered on the edge.
As soon as you came, he pulled his fingers out and began sucking hard on your clit to prolong your orgasm. He swallowed every drop of your release greedily, moaning against your pussy as he continued to eat you through your orgasm and beyond. "Fuck..."
He continued to lick and suck at your sensitive pussy drawing out your orgasm till you were reduced to a moaning mess on the bed. He pulled back finally, looking down at you and licking his fingers smirking.
“You really do taste delicious.” You pant heavily not even beginning to understand what just happened.
When your eyes snapped open the next morning, daylight was streaming through the bedroom blinds.You sat bolt upright in bed, your heart still racing, your skin flushed and tangled in your blankets.
You stared blankly at the wall for a full two minutes, your face burning with a mix of absolute shock and profound embarrassment."Holy shit," you whispered into the empty room, burying your face in your hands.
Your best friend was already awake and in the kitchen,completely oblivious to the fact that her single-minded desire for a hot boyfriend had just unleashed a supernatural menace directly into your libido.
You threw off the covers, your legs feeling weak as you stood up. You looked down at your worn-out sweatpants, you felt exhausted for some reason.
I am never letting her buy occult toys again, you thought, grabbing your phone with shaking hands.
[ 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ]↳ #incubus!jk #jungkook x reader #smut #heavy fluff #gothic comedy #ouija board sleepover mishap #reader insert #unbothered main character #dream weaving #witching hour chaos #the target board was a mistake
A/N- i haven’t seen anyone do this yet so I thought why not try lol. Hope you enjoyed all likes comments and reposts are appreciated <3.
A machine is only as secure as the person who built it. And every programmer—no matter how brilliant—leaves a backdoor wide open if you know exactly which emotional string to pull.
You sit in the suffocating heat of a parked sedan in a desolate alley of the lower district, watching neon-green code flicker across the terminal beside you. The glow paints sharp reflections across the windshield, strobing over cracked plastic and tired metal like a heartbeat that never quite stabilizes.
The car smells like stale energy drinks, cheap tobacco, and overworked hardware pushed way past its limit. The man next to you is Arata.
Twenty-four. Freelance network architect. Underground black-hat coder. The kind of genius the system pretends doesn’t exist until it needs one to break.
And right now—he’s yours. By design of course.
You didn’t pick him randomly. You studied him. Three weeks of observation through dark-web forums, buried handles, and late-night behavioral patterns disguised as code bragging. He wasn’t just skilled—he was isolated. Predictable in the way lonely people always are when they think nobody’s watching.
You didn’t need to break him. You just needed to be the first person who made him feel seen. So you did.
You fed it slowly. Carefully. Attention. Validation. Presence. Laughter in a cramped apartment filled with cheap tea and louder silence. You let him think he was the one in control. The protector. The one doing you a favor. It’s always easier that way.
A man will burn down his own world if you frame it as proof he matters. Arata’s fingers fly across his mechanical keyboard, frantic now, the clicking sharp and insect-like in the confined space.
“The cyber-forensic freeze on the Zenin node is clean,” he mutters, sweat gathering at his temple as green light washes over his face. “This isn’t just a lock. It’s a full metropolitan containment script. They’ve embedded a passive radar trigger keyed to the biometric signature. The second that card hits a live network—boom. It flags straight to Geto.” The name lands in the car like a weight.
Suguru Geto. You don’t react.
You lean back into the seat, calm as ever, iced coffee resting between your fingers like none of this is even remotely urgent. You’ve already seen his work. You’ve already measured his speed. Fast.
Too fast for bureaucracy. But still human. And humans are always predictable somewhere.
“I expected as much,” you say softly, voice smooth enough to cut tension instead of match it. Arata glances at you—too eager, too desperate to be useful to someone like you.
You lean in slightly, just enough for your perfume to shift the air. “But the question isn’t what the police built,” you continue. “It’s whether you can get around it without setting off the entire fucking system.”
Arata laughs under his breath—nervous, almost offended by the implication he can’t.
“Route around it?” he repeats. “That’s not how this works. If I reroute, it flags. There’s no clean bypass. Geto’s script sits too deep in the transport layer. Anything that moves wrong triggers it.” A pause.
Then his expression changes. Not fear. Not doubt. Excitement.
“…So we don’t route around it,” he says quietly. “We ghost it.” Your head tilts slightly.
“Explain.” Arata leans forward, hands already shaking with adrenaline.
“We don’t extract,” he says. “We mirror. I spin up a ghost node—offshore. The card doesn’t touch their live system. It just convinces the network it’s still talking to itself.” His grin sharpens.
“It builds a fake Zenin vault. A perfect twin. Meanwhile, the real system just sits there, frozen, thinking nothing’s moving.” A beat.
“The radar watches an empty cage.” You stare at him for a moment.
Then, faintly, “That’s fucking elegant,” you murmur. Arata almost straightens at that. Like he’s been fed oxygen for the first time in weeks.
His fingers slam back onto the keyboard. “I’ll execute it,” he says. “Just don’t blink.” The laptop hum deepens. The rain outside starts tapping harder against the windshield.
Forty percent.
Sixty.
Seventy.
You watch the progress bar like it owes you money. Somewhere in a clean, silent office across the city, a detective is waiting for a signal that never comes.
Suguru Geto. You imagine him sitting still. Watching a screen. Waiting for a mistake. Thinking he has the board mapped. Thinking he closed every exit. He didn’t.
He just learned how deep the water can go.
Eighty five.
Ninety.
Transfer Complete. Ghost Node Severed.
The screen cuts to black. Silence floods the car. Arata exhales like he’s been underwater for too long, collapsing back into his seat, shaking with adrenaline-laced relief.
“We did it,” he whispers. “It’s gone. All of it. Split. Laundered. Scattered through twelve vault layers. No trace. No link. Not even a whisper on Geto’s radar.” You study the dead screen for a moment longer than necessary.
Then you smile. Slow. Controlled. Perfectly timed.
“Good,” you say softly. “You’re incredible Arata.” Arata turns toward you like that sentence just rewired his entire nervous system.
“Really?” he asks, almost breathless. “I mean—yeah, I knew I could—so what now? What’s next? You staying tonight? Tomorrow? I can—”
“Get some rest love,” you cut in gently. Not cold. Just final.
His words stall mid-breath. You reach out rubbing his shoulder—light, precise, calculated. Enough warmth to keep the illusion alive.
Then you’re already moving away.
“Tomorrow,” you add kissing his cheek, then slipping out of the car. “I’ll call you.” The door shuts behind you with a clean click.
And the second it does, Your expression disappears. No softness. No warmth.
Just structure again. Arata sits inside the car, still believing he mattered. Still waiting for a version of you that never existed.
You don’t look back. The alley swallows your steps as you walk away, heels steady against wet asphalt, coat pulled tight against the night. Behind you, the system continues breathing in silence.
Ten miles away, the metropolitan police bullpen sits dark and empty. Monitors glow faintly in standby mode.
Suguru Geto’s monitoring script runs without interruption. A passive radar. A frozen node. A perfect lock.
Status: Secure. Zero Pings Detected.
The system doesn’t react. It doesn’t blink. It doesn’t know.
Because from its perspective, Nothing has moved. The vault is still sealed. The cage is still intact. And somewhere in that blind certainty…
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(00:01) [ The harsh hiss of mic static. A heavy, rhythmic tapping of a pen against a wooden desk. ]
(00:05) [ The click of a lighter. A long slow exhale. ]
MALE VOICE:
“They warned me about her. Said she was toxic. Using anyone within arms reach. Discarding them when they lost their utility. They were looking in the wrong direction.”
(00:20) [ A soft, dark trace of amusement in his voice. A low chuckle. ]
MALE VOICE:
“But me? I know how to isolate a variable. I know how to control an environment. They didn’t see what I saw. She wasn’t destroying them, she was playing with them. She never knew what real devastation looked like. Not until the pattern started changing. That’s the funny thing about people. Remove enough distractions and they reveal what they’re really attached to. The people she kept within reach became distant memories. I watched. Waited. I wanted to know what she’d do when there was nowhere left to turn.”
(00:38) [ His tone entirely leveled, detached, empty of emotion. A calm measured breath taken close to the mic. ]
MALE VOICE:
“They don’t understand how my mind works. I don’t operate on empathy, I operate on logic. When I watched her manipulate her surroundings, I saw perfection. For the first time in my life, I encountered something I wanted to keep. I fell in love with her mechanics.”
(00:56) [ A single tap of a fingernail against the wood surface. ]
MALE VOICE:
“A mechanism with too many moving parts is inefficient. Everyone thinks they understand cause and effect until they become a part of it. I’m all she has left now. She still doesn’t recognize me. But she’ll look for me soon. I’m the only option she has left.”
* **Legal Provision:** All designations, geographic coordinates, and individual identities are strictly fictional. Any alignment with real-world entities is coincidental.
📁 [ SYSTEM FILES ]
* 📁 [ TAPE_00: PROLOGUE ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_01: HIGHER EDEN ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_02: THE CLOSED CIRCUIT ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_03: POLICE RADAR ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_04: SYSTEM MALFUNCTION ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_005: THE VOID ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_06: THE NEXT VARIABLE ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_07: RESTRAINED SYSTEMS ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_008: THE PHYSICAL VARIABLE ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_009: DIRECTIONAL CORRECTIVE ] [LINK]
* 📁 [ TAPE_10: PENDING... ]
♫ AUDIO FILE ATTACHED
FILE: ANGEL.MP3
Source: Massive Attack
STATUS: ACCESSIBLE
▶ OPEN FILE
ARCHIVIST NOTE:
Extensive research was conducted during file assembly.Enjoy the file.
