FUCK! (M) | JJK [teaser]
synopsis. You hated your roommate but he had the biggest crush on you, fuck.
pairing: fboy!jk x fem!reader
genre: f2l, e2l, roommates au, fboy au (wow so many cliches), comedy au, mature themes, bad language, sex jokes.
note. Jungkook is the type of guy to think with his dick rather than his brain. wanna be tagged? reply under this post ONLY.
He was such a pain in the ass.
Jeon Jungkook was the most annoying man on this planet, you’d think that God put him on earth so he could torture you endlessly.
His mischievous smile, his doe eyes. How could you ever forget that face? When you had to see it every single morning.
That naked chest, those tattooed arms. And that mouth which could never shut up. You hated his guts, he was cute but so so annoying.
Jungkook was a guy who spoke first and thought after.
“Y/n? Let me take you out on a date.” You’d heard this sentence so many times coming out from his mouth. It was so obvious that he liked you.
He never tried to hide his feelings.
But then again, he wasn’t the one to be taken seriously, you were sure he only wanted to fuck you.
“No Jungkook.” The same reply you’d give him every time and then look at the milk carton in his hands. “And? DONT DRINK FROM THE CARTON!”
“Please! I like you. Just one date?”
“You like every single girl on this earth, dear fuckboy.”
You didn’t mind his flirtatious nature, he knew he was hot, he could get any girl he wanted? But not you.
He’d sigh and mutter something under his breath, you’d sometimes steal a quick glance and see a pout on his lips.
He could be cute but you really didn’t think of him in that way.
“Y/n please I can change! I’ve literally been trying to shoot my shot with you for the last two years….”
“No you’re not my type, koo.”
“But you are my type!”
“I know that.”
for the obs drabbles... the first time in their relationship that jk felt jealous 👀
our beloved summer; a drabble
“What was that?” you demand, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“What?” Jungkook asks, like he doesn’t know exactly what you’re talking about. He swings his legs casually from his seat on top of your work desk, dangerous close to your second favorite mug that you brought to the library. If his hand shot up, the ceramic would definitely fall to the ground, shattering to pieces along with your sanity. You would probably kill him if it happened.
“You were so rude to Minho!”
“Was I?” He scrunches his nose and looks upward, making a face that’s just mocking you. “I don’t think I was.”
“Yes, you were,” you deadpan, glaring at him, serious as hell. “It was not cool. You were so mean the entire night. You practically shoved him out the door the second his shift was over.”
Minho is a new library assistant who just started 3 weeks ago. You don’t really have much in common with him, nor do you have any shared classes, so there’s not a lot to talk about when your shifts overlap. But he’s a nice guy and a comforting presence to be around.
Not tonight though, because Jungkook has been loitering around the library till now even after his classes ended at 3PM and your evening shift didn’t start until 6. He was very insistent that he be around today, even when you told him to just go home and call it a day.
“I told you not to call me that anymore.” He squints at you but you hold your ground. You don’t know what’s gotten into him today, nor why he bothered to stick around when he was going to act like this. He made sure to kiss you every time Minho so much as turned in your direction, even though you made him promise to cool it with the PDA. Jungkook was childish and rude and deserved to be smacked over the head. You could tell that Minho was so uncomfortable the whole time he was here.
“And I told you not to be an ass to my friend, but it seems like we can’t all get what we want.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh? A couple of weeks ago, he was just “Minho the new guy” but now he’s your friend?”
Honestly? No. You think he’s probably an acquaintance at best, but if Jungkook wants to be a brat, then two can play at game. You’re nothing if not petty.
This probably shouldn’t be how you deal with real life problems, though.
“You heard me,” you say. “He’s my friend because he doesn’t embarrass me in front of other people.”
Jungkook chuckles humorlessly and hops off the desk. It only takes you a couple of long strides to walk toward where you’re standing, by one of the shelves with your little cart of books. He bypasses the cart to stand right in front of you, towering over your frame. You should be finishing up to go home, but instead you're here entertaining his temper tantrum.
You try to push him out of the way but he doesn't budge. "Move. I need to stack these."
Jungkook ignores you. "Did you know that your friend was going to ask you out tonight?"
"What?" you scoff. "Stop talking shit and admit that you were an ass for no reason, Jeon."
"Stop calling me th– Oh my god." He inhales sharply, visibly irritated. He pinches the bridge of his like you are the one supposed to be scolded here. The gall. "I'm serious. I heard him and his friends in the cafe. Said he thinks you're pretty and smart. And funny! Which we all know is an overstatement because you can be dry as fuck sometimes–"
You stare at him as he rambles on about your other traits that Minho found charming. Seems like Jungkook's ears really got a workout from all that eavesdropping. You watch the slight furrow between his brows and the pout on his lips as he talks like he's lecturing you, all annoyed and immature and most of all–
Ah, so you see what this is. You should've seen right through him when he sent Minho that first dagger glare.
You bite back a smile.
"And you know what he said after that? He said you look like you would– Why are you looking at me like that?"
You narrow your eyes at him with a smirk and pat him on the cheek. "So you're jealous."
Jungkook's mouth falls open in shock like you just insulted his entire family. "Jealous? Of Minho? That guy?" he gasps.
"Mhmm. I can't believe I didn't realize that."
"You didn't realize shit because it's not true!"
"Then why were you mad at Minho?" you challenge.
Jungkook glares at you again. Deep down (maybe he doesn't even need to reach that deep) he knows you've got all figured out, but he won't admit it that easily. After all, he's the most stubborn person he knows.
"Because he should know where his place is," he says simply, then mutters under his breath something that you catch. "The balls to ask out someone who's got a boyfriend..."
"One, that sounds awfully like jealousy to me. And two, who says I have a boyfriend?"
Jungkook stares at you, so unimpressed that it's kinda funny. "Are you serious?"
You raise a hand over your chest. "As serious as a heart attack."
"Then what the fuck am I?"
You hum to yourself, pretending to be in thought. The look on his face tells you he's so goddamn frustrated right now. See? You can be pretty annoying too. It's fun to tease him. It's a lot less fun when you realize that you'd have to apologize for Jungkook's behavior the next time you see Minho, but that's a problem for later.
"I can name a lot of things that you are. A dumbass, a sore loser, not my boyfriend–"
"What?" you ask, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. "I don't remember us having any conversation about the B word and G word."
"Fine. Then we're having that conversation right now. Be my girlfriend."
You scrunch your nose. "No, thanks. I'll pass."
You take advantage of Jungkook's momentary dumbfounded state to push him to the side so you can push the book cart to the next aisle. He stumbles a little and has to hold on to the shelve to regain his balance, but he catches up to you pretty quickly.
You keep moving though, humming a tune to yourself. It's driving him positively nuts and you're just relishing in it.
"Gotta work for the title, bud."
His footsteps stop, and this makes you stop too. When you turn around to see what he's doing, you find a blank look on his face. Before you can even raise an eyebrow in question, Jungkook's long legs are already taking three strides to get to you. His broad chest pins you against the bookshelf before you even know what's happening.
Then his mouth is on yours.
One of his hands cups your face as he kisses you hard. You whimper in surprise, but your hands are already reaching for his waist, up his chest, around the back his neck and into his hair, where your fingers weave through the soft locks, tugging on them, making him groan against your lips.
You allow Jungkook to slip his tongue inside your mouth, eager to feel him closer. The butterflies go batshit insane, erupting in your belly, sending tingles from your head to your toes. His lips feel so nice that you can't help but press yourself further against his body. He alternates between soft and slow, hard and fast, and it's so goddamn addicting that you just want to keep chasing that feeling forever. Something in your chest somersaults.
It isn't until Jungkook pulls away that you realize you're in desperate need of air. You bite your bottom lip, trapped in a daze, staring at the smirk on his lips.
"Have I earned it?" he asks.
His hand caresses your jaw. He leans closer again to let his mouth brush against yours and whoops, there they go the again. The goddamn butterflies.
"Have I earned the title? Your boyfriend?"
You blink stupidly until you take in enough oxygen for your brain to work. Your fingers tighten on his hair as you say, "Kiss me like that again and I might reconsider."
Jungkook rolls his eyes but complies anyway.
No one even remembers who the fuck Minho is anymore.
work on you (m)
+ featuring ... manager!taehyung x idol!reader
+ summary ... when your manager, kim taehyung, decides to avoid you after a massage turned sexual, you are determined to kill two birds with one stone: get him to talk to you again by fucking him.
+ genre ... smut, fluff
+ wordcount ... 12k
+ warnings ... fem!reader, possessive/jealous!taehyung, dom!taehyung, perv!taehyung, brat!reader, a lot of dirty talk, orgasm denial, objectification, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, cumplay, cum swallowing, exhibitionism, public fingering,
For much of the night, Kim Taehyung is quiet. He rests on the crème couch, cat eyes observing you through the mirror. Outside, pink skies fade to indigo and crickets popcorn beneath the underbrush; the pattering of your feet against the practice room floor accompanies it. It has been hours since workers have clocked out and the last buses have run, but he knows this.
Your manager of two years is not known for the saccharine politeness of his peers nor the pedantic nature of his seniors. Instead, he is blunt. Reserved. An intrinsic part of your life whom you’d grown reliant on as winter faded to summer and back again.
His diligence is not due to principle but rather habit – if it wasn’t for you, he would be watching cable, cigarette ash tainting work clothes he was too tired to change out of. Instead, he waits—regardless of overtime—to drive you to your apartment where he bids you a weary ‘bye’ only to pick you up three hours later. He doesn’t need to, but he does. A habit.
But as entangled as your lives have grown, he has always kept a distance; hence your intrigue when he approaches you post-practice where he would have ignored you altogether.
“You look tired,” he says in the disinterested tone you’d come to expect.
He studies you through the floor-length mirrors as you spread your legs in a stretch. You had been shy once, all too aware of how little your leggings left to the imagination, but Taehyung’s blank stares had assuaged those thoughts long ago.
You admit, his ignorance bothers you. He is there, but he is not, with all the presence of drapery that sways only when a window is ajar.
“I’m fine,” you say – and you are, for the most part. “Just a little sore.”
“Where does it hurt?”
You dismiss his verbosity as a sign of your own palpable fatigue. “No, it’s just that my shoulders feel like shit.”
“Do you need help?” His fingers flutter before your face. “I could give you a massage.”
As the sole target of his scoldings, the notion of such a Samaritan action is laughable. “Oh, really? You?”
“Why not?” Cherry-tinted lips twitch. “Can’t have your body breaking down on me before your comeback.”
His tongue pokes his cheek and he cracks his knuckles; the sound draws you to the length of his fingers, callused and long. The kind meant to caress piano keys or draw pleasure from a crooning lover. You think of those hands on you, enkindling a different type of satisfaction.
You are pulled to face the mirror as he stands behind you. “Like this,” he says, the ball of his wrist gliding against your upper back. His hands are rough as he kneads, tugging and pressing on the skin as he would dough, a harshness that should hurt but doesn’t. He moves closer, his pulsing heat a reminder of his proximity.
Sandalwood, you realize. That’s what he smells like.
You breathe it in as if the rest of him would follow. Once, twice. Then exhale as he finds a particular knot between your shoulders.
“Your muscles are so tight,” he says, with all the wispy quality of a fever dream.
It’s wanton to clench at such an innocent usage of the word but you do, thighs rubbing against each other in pursuit of friction.
The siren song of his whisper dallies close to your ear’s cusp. “You’ve really been overworking yourself. I guess this is sort of my fault, huh?” He heaves a great sigh. “It’s only right that I make up for it then.”
You nod, unable to part your lips for fear of the sounds that would surface. Had you always been so weak, you wonder, the tickle of his breath inches from your neck enough to compose your compliance. Comets of ideas, bad and worse, streak past your musings. You pluck one, entertaining the thought of grinding against his length until it hardens between your ass.
You instantly berate yourself though your underwear moistens still.
Your manager. He’s your manager. A person of whom your mortification would be parried, and your chagrin discarded. Such constant proximity would be unbearable if awkward, and Taehyung, as curt as he is, means too much to you to be cast aside due to your own lack of restraint.
Stood before a mirror, there is nothing else to focus on but the reflected image of him behind you. There’s no particular difference in his wardrobe today: a beige cardigan, dark jeans, and pale sneakers, reminiscent of a History major, art connoisseur, or both. Curled obsidian hair drapes along the curve of his eyes, eyes focused on his ministrations against your back. One would expect a more formal way of dress, but considering that most of his job revolves around following your schedule all day there’s no reason to.
He grins when he catches you staring.
You scoff, face burning. “What?”
“Don’t you think you’ll feel better if I massage you while you’re lying down?”
His hands rub your bare arms, coaxing a reply out of your quiet contemplation. You hesitate – not out of wariness, but rather embarrassment that he may find a swift reply too eager. Though he is not one to heartlessly poke fun at another, you attempt as casual a shrug as your nerves can handle.
He leads you by a gentle grip on your wrist to the spacious couch opposite where you’d been standing. The same couch he spends most of his time on while waiting for your practices to end.
He motions for you to flip over and lie down on your stomach with a swirl of his finger. The action combined with your obedience is almost dog-like, but you are so deeply entrenched in his spell that if he told you to bark you would.
Face planted into a pillow, you can hear his shuffling as he kneels atop you outside your thighs. He rubs circles against your shoulders, leaning forward to whisper: “Feels good?”
Below, your core aches like the starved, demanding sustenance.
“Sure,” you say, settling on the least innocuous of words. “You’re like… strangely good at this.”
“Good enough to switch careers? I don’t think the pay would be as good, though.”
“I wouldn’t be there either, so that would suck. For you.”
There’s a playful frown in his tone. “Oh, yes, because how could I ever go about my day-to-day life without you in it?”
He’s joking but you do wonder what he does outside of managing you. If he has hobbies, passions, friends… or a significant other he does this to. To be candid, the thought irks you.
“Are you sore anywhere else?” he asks, having focused on your shoulders.
You respond with a breathless ‘yes’, turning your head to meet his gaze. “My lower back.”
His fingers are a paradox of frigid and warm as he grazes your neck, making his way down your spine, then shoulders, then upper arms. He sits astride your ass, touch gliding against the exposed skin below your top. He digs into your muscles as if trying to see what is buried beneath them.
He’s never touched you so purposefully before.
He’s never done much of any of this before.
Talking. Touching. Tempting.
“Is it cool if I lift your shirt?” he asks. “It’s getting in the way.”
Your breath hitches, your heart races, and somewhere outside the company building the horn of a taxi startles you out of reverie.
“Go ahead.” You nod, helping him help you out of the shirt.
He’s clinical as he folds it and places it on the hardwood flooring. He doesn’t look at your bra—a gray, sporty number—and avoids touching the fabric as he continues.
A few blissful minutes pass when he says that he has an idea.
He gets up, walks to your bag, and (without needing to ask) locates the lotion you keep in a pouch. Settling back down, his crotch nestles between the warmth of your ass. The plastic pump splashes white cream onto your back which he massages into the skin.
“Does that feel better?” he asks, hands gliding across the exposed flesh. It smells like nectar on his hands and feels like ambrosia against your skin. His touch is overwhelming, every caress casting electricity straight to your lower stomach.
“My abdomen hurts too.” The words are a muffled whisper against the throw pillow your face is buried in.
“Then, turn over,” he says, as if it’s that simple. Perhaps, to him it is. Perhaps, this is all in your head, that lightning-charged static in the air.
He moves up, allowing space for you to roll over.
When he sits down his crotch directly presses against your clothed cunt.
His pinky rests against your chest, moving with the sound of your breathing. It slips slightly beneath the stretch of fabric, poking the flesh. You hold your breath until you can’t– until your lungs demand air as much as your body demands his.
You hold his wrist. “Is my bra getting in the way too?”
His adam's apple bobs, pretty eyes flickering between you and your concealed chest. “A bit,” he shrugs, sliding another finger beneath the underwire.
Your voice is raspy, the way one sounds when in thirst. “Then you should remove it.”
He moves with the grace of a caught deer, watching your face for any sign of hesitation. Your back arches, allowing his hand to slip underneath and unclip it. He slides the straps down your arms, inch by inch, giving you time to say no. You don’t, not able to even fathom the thought of doing so.
He drinks in your chest and the erect nipples standing in the centers of them with dilated pupils and hooded eyes. You imagine that he thinks you’re gorgeous, that it takes all of his will-power not to ravage you on that couch as beasts often do. It is that need to be made into poetry under his gaze that you push your chest upward, seeking his warmth.
He stills your squirming with a hand to your sternum. “Don’t move,” he says, a command you heed the moment it leaves his lips.
The rough pads of his fingers graze your hips then stomach before resting beneath the cusp of your chest. You are hyper-aware of every movement, every stutter, every pulse – if only so that you don’t miss that cataclysmic moment when his hands finally cup the flesh that hides your stampeding heart.
He grips you carefully, digging moon-shaped indents on your skin. Your nipples rest within the crevice of his outstretched fingers, surrounded yet untouched.
“This isn’t a good angle.” He pouts, looking around before finding the tossed pillows. Your back is moved into an arch as he tucks one of them beneath the small of your back, causing your chest to jut out from where you lay. He grins, satisfied.
His hands go back to your chest, working from the outside in circular motions, avoiding your nipples. He then reaches for the lotion bottle, pumping more of the white cream onto you.
“Do you like this?” He asks, fingers dragging around your slippery tits.
“Yeah, it feels really good.”
“Really good, huh?” He laughs when your body jerks at his finger brushing against your nipple. “How about this? Are you sensitive here?”
You groan when he pinches the bud. “What do you think?”
“No one’s giving them enough attention, huh?”
To your embarrassment, you whine when he moves his hands away.
“Shh, you don’t want to be caught getting special treatment from your manager, do you? Unless… that’s the sort of thing you’re into?” He laughs, eyes blown out as he watches you panic. You’ve never seen that look on him before.
“What the hell are you talking about, you dick?”
“Nothing.” He bites his lower lip in an attempt to quell his laughter. If you weren’t insanely horny at the moment then you would’ve been better able to appreciate the rarity of such a display of emotion. “You’re just being really cute right now acting all shy when all I’m doing is giving you a massage. You said you were tired, so I’m helping you.” He squeezes your tits. “That’s part of my job, isn’t it?”
You scoff. “You mean this is you being a pervert. I can feel your definitely average-sized cock hard as hell against me.”
Taehyung gasps as if that was the most insulting thing he’d ever heard. “Okay, three things: one, I’m not a pervert; two, my cock is definitely not average; and three, if you want me to stop then tell me and we can pretend that this never happened. Or, you know, if the pretending fails then we could just die from the inescapable awkwardness. That’d be fine too.”
Trust that he was only ever talkative when he wanted to bother you. You roll your eyes, mumbling: “Well, I didn’t say that…”
His gaze meets yours, dark and tempting. “Then what do you want from your poor, overworked manager?”
You answer by moving his hand back to your chest. “Nothing much,” you say coyly, though what you mean is ‘everything’.
His nails scratch tight circles around each bud, teasing you. He watches your wide-eyed desperation with amusement, alternating between fanning his fingers over the points and holding them between his slippery fingers, squeezing them until they slip out of his grip.
He blows phantom winds against the mounds, hardening them into stalactites. He rocks against you, hips against hips, crotch against crotch, stimulating your clit through the sheer fabric of your leggings. You whine and pant with every motion.
“You’re so noisy. Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” The word leaves you before you can fake nonchalance.
“Then be a good girl and focus on my service.”
Though he’d always been the strict type, you weren’t one to be so obedient: to follow his every command, bend at his will, become a pliable figure; to crave escape through the form of mindlessness. Between his periodic seeking of consent and cautious eyes, you feel safe, safe to drown in his touch and never resurface. You know, even then, that despite the blasé way you were both treating this moment, it was one that neither of you could take back.
He scoots backwards from where he sat on your thighs, moving your feet over his lap. From this angle, he is sure to notice the wet outline of your labia through your leggings.
The soles of your feet are a slight vermillion from having danced barefoot for the past three hours, and he briefly rubs them before moving upwards, to your ankles, your knees, your thighs. It is with an anxious draw of breath that you await his touch at your most sensitive center.
“Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Anywhere,” you say. “As long as you keep doing it.”
“I’m going to need a specific place, sweetheart.”
Head tossed back, you whine. “Just- Come on, Taehyung.”
He kneads your outer thighs, scarcely exerting pressure. “Is this what you want?”
“Please. There. Touch me there. It hurts.”
He chuckles beneath his breath. “Poor baby. I’m sorry, but I don't know where ‘there’ is. Oh, I have an idea. How about you show it to me?” He moves to give you enough space. “Come on, show me where and how you want to be touched.”
You, the rational you, would have been unable to process the erotic words coming from your manager’s lips. These are the whispers you’d conjured in daydreams with not even the hope of being subject. But you aren’t the rational you. The you beneath Taehyung is someone else entirely, someone caught in a dream without desire to wake.
Your hands crawl to the waistband of your leggings but hesitate at the breach.
“Don’t be shy. I know how you like to play with your little cunt in hotel showers, even though you know I’m waiting outside the door, subject to hearing your pretty moans. I’ve always wondered how you pleasured yourself, if you liked to finger your sopping hole until you passed out or if you preferred to press the stream of a shower head against your clit.”
Whilst your right hand sneaks its way into your underwear, your left slaps to your lips, rushed to suppress a gasp. “Are you actually trying to kill me? Have some fucking decorum. And what do you mean you heard me?”
“Decorum? I’m not the one touching myself where anyone could walk in and catch me.”
You didn’t even realize when you’d started the teasing motions, fingers caressing your outer labia.
You scoff. “You’re acting like you weren’t salivating over my tits a few minutes ago.”
“Is that what you want? Me salivating over your tits?”
His hair, like strands of inky silk, drape over eyes that refuse to part from your gaze. He is warm where he touches you, cold where he doesn’t, and temperate only when he mouths against your skin, marking you, in some invisible way, as his own. Your gasp echoes in that cave-like room, his lips an inferno keeping you sane. He nibbles at your breasts, teeth tugging at the perked tips. His spit dribbles down your flesh.
“So soft. I’ve always wondered what you taste like.” His mumbles vibrate against your skin.
You press tight circles against your clit at the same pace as Taehyung’s tongue against your nipples. The sounds, wet and sticky, are loud to an embarrassing degree.
“Baby, look at you. At this rate you’re going to dirty the couch, and then who’s gonna have to clean it? Maybe if I’m too tired I’ll have you lick it spotless instead.”
You push a finger inside, curling the digit with a gasp.
“Interesting.” He grins. “So, you do like it when I treat you like this. I knew it.”
“You talk way too much when you’re horny.”
“Only because it’s you,” he says. “You turn me into an absolute mess.”
“Is that why you only talk to me when you want to scold me?” It’s a childish question. His attention wasn’t yours to have, a fact you’ve grown well-acquainted to.
“Because I knew something like this–” he licks your neck “–was inevitable, and that it’d be my fault. Though… I’m starting to think you’re the type that likes to be scolded.”
His face is inches from yours. The span of a butterfly’s wings, or a fallen autumn leaf. You prop yourself up with the arm that isn’t beneath your leggings, breaching the gap ever so slowly. “So, you imagined it, then? Something like this happening?”
“It usually went a little different.”
“Well, I’d already be fucking you, for starters. And I’d probably initiate it with something less lame than ‘offering a massage’.” He notices your slowing hand and laughs. “Tired, already? You really are such a princess. Do you want me to do it for you?”
You nod, though you should have known nothing ever came easy with Kim Taehyung.
His fingers creep up your legs before squeezing your thighs open. Between, a wet spot darkens the fabric, and he notices it with a smugness that annoys you. He moves your arm away before palming your wet cunt from outside your leggings. The touch is electrifying yet not nearly enough to sate you. As if sensing your dissatisfaction, he slips his hand beneath the cloth, directly touching your clit.
He sloppily plays with your juices, spreading them around your pussy. Deeming you wet enough, he sinks a finger into your warmth. The squelch sound is inescapable as he begins a moderate pace. You squeeze your eyes tight enough for your world to burst into starlight, flecks of shimmery white floating across your vision.
He lifts his hand to your face, and you could smell your moisture before you saw it, viscous strands hanging between his fingers. “Look at this,” he says. “They’re soaking wet.”
Without thought, you take his fingers into your mouth, rolling your tongue around the digits. You’d never tasted yourself before. It’s more sour than you imagined, but not as bad as one would expect.
“That’s a good girl,” he praises. “What’re you making that face for? Do you want more?”
You release his fingers. “Fuck, please just touch me.”
He leans over you, nibbling at your ear before whispering: “Too bad.”
All too abruptly, he startles you by clapping his hands and standing up. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”
You blink, dumbfounded. “To… fuck?”
He laughs, glancing at his watch. “As much as I would love that, I’m still your manager. And you have to be awake by eight,” he explains with a normalcy unsuited for your half-clothed, aroused state.
“Are we really not going to even talk about-”
He tosses you your shirt and bra.
“Thanks…” You don the clothes in haste. “And for the massage. Though, it was missing one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“An orgasm,” you deadpan.
“Well, there’s always the option of getting me fired, though I’d prefer to keep my livelihood sustained, thanks.”
“Don’t give me ideas,” you joke. “And here I was thinking you’d risk it all for me.”
“I’d risk a lot of things for you, but definitely not if seeing you around everyday was at stake.”
A grin forms on his tinted lips as he turns before you can gather your words. The door slams shut behind his harried exit and you are left, alone.
Several suns have set and risen, and on the eighth turning you decide you’d had enough of his boyish disregard. You recall being eight, blithe with even the gentle breeze lifting autumn leaves into tangerine storms. Boys at that age were difficult, if they weren’t picking at you they were ignoring you altogether, huddled into little clubs of their own. Every attempt at breaching their sanctified playground circles result in them scurrying in all directions, like mice caught lurking in a kitchen. Taehyung didn’t seem much different.
When he picked you up on the morning after that first intimacy, he had nary a word to say. Even a glance too many had his ears reddening and shoulders curling in, as if it were possible to shrink himself small enough to be unseen. He, who’d eat in his car if he weren’t eating with you, found himself talking to the other staff, if only to avoid your confrontation disposition as he knew you were loath to interrupt an uninvited conversation.
Prior to the current state of tension, you’d jokingly asked him to guess what your astrological sign was. His immediate guess was Taurus. As your manager, he was the one most subjected to your stubbornness, your unwillingness to give up if only to prove a point. But you—impatient, tired you—were reaching your limit.
Yes, you were stubborn, but you hadn’t realized how his obstination could rival your own. And more than your missing and wanting of him, the question of ‘why’ burned trails along your musings. Why? Why was he avoiding you when: one, he’d been the one to initiate the tryst; two, during the moment, he’d joked of things being too awkward (and surely joking about things being awkward meant that things weren’t awkward enough to not be joked about); and three, he had acted as if everything was fine until that dreadful morning after, when he picked you up from your apartment (as he always did) except with not a word to say or a glance to spare.
Yes, indeed, you were stubborn. It was how you’d gotten this far in such a consuming career, but you were sure that you’d have given up at this point – he was just a man after all, and you had other problems of greater consequence. However, there was one thing stopping you from ceasing the pursuit.
Alone in your apartment, you are unafraid of moaning or indulging in the characteristic sticky sound of masturbation. That wetness spurs you into speed. A rush to completion. It is more out of necessity than pleasure, and the pace of your fingers exhibit that. You don’t bother fingering yourself, finding the notion too tiring. Instead, your focus is on your clit and massaging tight circles against the protective skin covering it.
You’ve become an expert of your own body, having so few sexual partners over the years. The risk of dating was high for idols, and you’d found that the few times you had risked it it was never sex worth losing one’s career for.
You know how much pressure to apply against the nub, teasing yourself at the edge long enough to draw out the pleasure. Your other hand lazily drapes across your chest, softly gliding across the skin just as Taehyung had that week before.
You’d be quite the fool to not notice how he coughs into his fist, ears red, when he notices your staring, or the subtle ways he checks you out when he thinks you aren’t looking (that much, at least, hasn’t changed).
By this point, you’d masturbated to him and that moment on the couch one too many times.
When you cum it is not as satisfying as it should be. It is but a relief of pressure rather than a gateway to ecstasy. There’s something missing, though to question what it is would be a benign pursuit for you already know the answer.
It is then, winded and shaking, that you come to the conclusion you’d been dreading.
You need to fuck Kim Taehyung… and then you’d figure out it why it is that your heart aches so.
The car’s hum permeates the air and settles on your skin unpleasantly, as if trapping you in its needly weight. Suffocating. There is no better word for it.
When his eyes flicker from the road to you, it is even worse. You hate that he looks good: styled hair, pressed clothes, expensive cologne. But what you hate most is that you don’t see any of it. Instead there is the image of him above you, cock sliding in as if nothing could fit better.
It isn’t silent from a lack of trying, but after the hundredth attempt at conversation you’d grown tired.
He has not regarded you once despite you wearing his favorite outfit (a favoritism you’d deduced when he glanced at you one too many when you’d last worn it). The corduroy atop his thighs becomes his handkerchief, more to wipe sweaty palms against than a piece of clothing.
When he makes a sharp right turn, your hand on the center console knocks against his.
He jumps but plays it off, turning off the blinker and pressing closer to the door than he had been.
You sigh. “Do I have some infectious disease I should know about? That’d be pretty bad for my career.”
He blinks at you, catches himself staring, then turns back to the road.
“No,” he answers plainly.
“You aren’t even gonna berate me for sleeping in this morning?” Tired from last night’s self-ministrations, you slept through your alarms, leaving him waiting in the car for over an hour. On a normal day, he would’ve spent the entire trip either glaring at you or complaining. He did neither.
“You must’ve been tired,” he said.
“Remember what happened last time I was sore and tired?”
He sucks a breath between his teeth, gives you an incredulous look of shock, then proceeds to pretend as if you’d said nothing.
In a series of losses, you consider that a win.
Emboldened, you lean across the controls and press your hand on his thigh, your face so dangerously close to his that you could smell the mintiness of his aftershave. You’d always liked the cleanliness in which he prided himself on. Smoking, he’d always joked, was his only flaw. When stressed, he had a tendency to hit a few sticks more than usual. It didn’t take a genius to surmise the reason as to why, despite the sun’s low place in the sky, you could smell that more-than-few on him. You were both figuratively and literally bad for his health.
He sneaks a glance down your chest, cleavage revealed by the low cut of your top. He’d always been so fond of your breasts, those soft curves of flesh that he spent so much time fondling when he had the chance to. He gulps before looking away.
“Oh, sorry,” you say, coyly. His grip on the wheel twitches as he contemplates removing your hand from his thigh but thinks otherwise, perhaps rationalizing that touching your hand in order to remove it was also a bad move in his plan to pretend you were but a figment of a mind tortured to want what it shouldn’t have.
The main road close to the company building appears before you, a heavy strip of crowded cars anxious to make it in time to their corporate rat living.
You glance downwards. “Did I make you hard?”
He makes a choking sound, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel because the answer is yes, you had. The stiff texture of his pants only heightens the image of his cock struggling beneath, forming a tent you have to look away from lest it distract you from your mission. “I have to focus on driving.”
A pointed look is thrown his way as you gesture towards the windscreen. “We’re going to be stuck in this traffic for probably more than twenty minutes,” you say, untucking his button-up from his pants. Your hands press against his toned stomach, making a home beneath his shirt. “Aren’t you bored?”
“Out of the two of us, I don’t think I’m the bored one.” He turns to face you, putting his hand atop yours. “Did you really like it that much? Me touching you? I’m starting to think that your excuse this morning was a lie. You were probably just playing with yourself, am I wrong?”
“Half wrong,” you grin. “I wasn’t fucking myself this morning.” You press your lips against his ear, chest against his shoulder. “I was fucking myself last night.”
He curses, head thrown back at the notion. “Has anyone ever told you how blunt you are?”
“You do,” you say. “Constantly.”
“That’s because you are.”
“Then what does that make you?”
“A horny fuck, who, by some stroke of luck, got paired to work for an idol that’s somehow even more depraved.”
Though you laugh, relief surges through you at the familiarity of his bantering. “Define ‘depraved’.”
He pushes your hand to his waistband. “This,” he says, as if it is some grotesque and beautiful thing. “How badly I want you.”
You unzip his pants and untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s larger than you’d expected; long yet girthy. You run a finger down the appendage, catching on the prominent veins.
“God,” he hisses at the contact. “You’ve been such a slut recently, it was only a matter of time before you did this, huh? Touching my cock where anyone could see.”
The flesh of him is soft and warm beneath your fingertips. You squeeze the head then trail down to the base, cupping his balls.
He’s beautiful when he moans. His head tosses back, curls cascading over shut eyes as he attempts to move away from the pleasure all the while begging for you not to stop. A beautiful paradox, and you its orchestrator.
“Right there,” he groans. “Rub the head just like that.”
His commands are hypnotic in a way you deign to follow.
“Shit, you’re such a sub, aren’t you? You do everything I ask you to if it means you get a nice, thick cock.”
Despite your forwardness, you lacked much experience regarding the kinkier side of sex, though not from lack of trying. Perhaps it was the consequence of a homogenous industry where every individual was fearful in the face of social ruin if word got out that they were participant in this or that.
“Maybe, I am.” You shrug. “But right now–” you squeeze his cock “–you’re in my hands. And you only get to cum when I say you can.”
With that, you take your hands off him. The look in his eyes is almost comical, as if you’d divorced him, taken custody of his three children, and set his house ablaze.
“Fuck. I was close,” he pleads. “Please don’t do this. I need to cum. Please.”
“You sound so pretty when you whine but that isn’t good enough.” You pout. “You need to promise that you’ll stop being awkward around me.”
“Shit, fine, I’m sorry, okay? I just didn’t want to make things more weird than they already are.”
“See, I want to make things weird between us. So there’s really nothing for you to worry about.”
“You seriously don’t understand how much I think about fucking you on a daily basis. I wasn’t even purposely trying to ignore you, it’s just-” He runs a hand through his hair. “Whenever I see you I…” You wait for him to find his words only for him to say something entirely unexpected. “...Can I cum in your mouth?”
You snort. “Nope, you don’t deserve that.”
“Aw, man. This car was just deep cleaned.”
“C’mon, Taehyung, cum on your dashboard like a big boy.”
You continue your ministrations, tightening your fist around his length as you stroke him faster and faster. “You know you wanna cum for me, don’t you? Tae’s precious little idol.”
His reaction to the nickname you’d heard his colleagues call him was not missed by you.
“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back. “Say that again.”
His cock twitches. “I don’t know why, but I really like it when you say my name.”
You lean in to whisper. “Then I’ll make sure to scream it when you inevitably fuck me.”
His eyes blink white, head slamming into the headrest. His cock twitches, then releases. You try to catch most of the mess in your hands but some escape onto his shirt and, unfortunately for him, his dashboard.
“You know what you’re doing, hm? My little slut. Made me cum so fast, baby.” He condescendingly pats your head as you help him wipe down the few strings of cum that misaimed.
“Far shooter, huh?”
“Shut up,” he huffs. “What about you? With how much you’ve been chasing after me, you must’ve wanted me that bad.” He nips at your ear. “Let me touch you.”
You feel his teeth drag against your skin, from your nape to your collarbone. You’re aware of the brush of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and the way he is pressed so close against you. Across the console, he reaches to slip his hand beneath the band of your bottoms. It is a familiar motion, reminiscent of what happened on the couch that night.
He wastes little time as his finger glides into you with an embarrassing squelch. You feel the rough pad rub against your g-spot, amazed at the swiftness in which he’d found it. Your walls tighten around him when he inserts a second then third digit.
“You’re so fucking tight. I want to bury my cock into this slutty hole so badly, you don’t even know,” he groans into your neck. His hand roughly paws at your chest. In want of more, he lifts your shirt, baring your chest to the traffic. “Thank god for tinted windows.”
He pinches your nipples, tugging them until they’ve extended farther than you’ve ever tried to. “My perfect little fuckdoll. My good fucking slut. All for me– only for me.” Hand confined in the tightness of your trousers, every motion caused his palm to slap against your skin, perfectly blending pleasure and pain.
He continues to rapidly finger you until you feel that telltale drop in the bottom of your stomach. He holds you as you cum, body shaking in the small space of the passenger’s seat. The fledgling feeling in your gut erupts with the incandescent sparks of some other foreign emotion. You wonder if it is happiness, or perhaps some remnant of lust. But then he looks at you—eyes soft as he caresses your hair, trailing fingers to your nape—and you think that it is the beginning of something else entirely.
“You good?” His voice is faint as he pulls you to face him. His flickering gaze searches your expression for some sign of hesitation or regret of which you have none.
“Yeah, I’m good. You?”
“Same here.” He smiles. “Don’t blame me though if you have a hard time during practice.”
You punch his shoulder with a chuckle, serenity descending upon you in the afterglow of a cause of stress meeting its resolution.
After lunch you see a carton of orange juice sitting innocently on that couch, a small sticky-note attached to it. In clean handwriting, it read: ‘a peace offering’.
You laugh, stabbing the plastic straw into the carton.
You’d take it.
Kim Taehyung has always thought your beauty was the kind that accompanied devastation; attractive in a way that halted his breath and stymied his heart. Perhaps a bit too much for his sanity and his cock, which has been rubbed raw to the thought of you one too many times. You are much too pretty for his own good, and it has grown increasingly difficult to be around you without wanting to fuck you against every surface imaginable.
It’s made worse by the mask of nymph-like innocence that you wear around him, wearing those tight leggings and parading your pretty pussy for everyone to see. He knows you aren’t his. Knows it with all the confidence of blue skies and steady lakes, but there are times, strenuous times, where it is difficult to control the possessive nature he is chained by. When his co-workers mention how sexy you are in your latest comeback teasers he simply clenches his fists and stays quiet lest said fists pummel their faces. He isn’t a violent man by any means (and definitely wouldn’t stand a chance in a real fight, because, as his friends have said, he’d never do anything that could potentially ruin his pretty face) but he entertains the thought as a way to keep sane when forced to listen to their ramblings.
When he has to stand behind you during fansigns, he can’t help the bitter feeling that rises in his gut when you hold hands with fans he knows could never know you in the same intimacy that he does. When they talk about how much they love you, an indignant voice in his head fights back: do they know about all the pretty little lingerie you keep in the back of your closet? Do they know about how bad you are at hiding your moans when you play with your pretty pussy in hotel showers knowing that he’s waiting for you outside? Do they know the soft texture of your tits and the way your eyes roll back when he plays with your nipples just right?
It’s an irrational sort of jealousy, but he’s learned to bear it as part of the occupation. There are times, however, where it is much more arduous a task, such as the massage of last week and the car ride of yesterday.
The feeling is not one he is fond of; how at odds his desire to ruin you is with his one to have you ruin him. Such had been a constant in the past year. Blame proximity or his lowered standards of human decency after having worked with only the most heinous people in the industry – you were kind, even when you needn’t be, even when you shouldn’t have been. And it ached somewhere beneath his chest that you thought him deserving of it.
He knows such feelings are ones not meant for him to have, but he has long since been past the denial that it was only but a physical sort of affection. However, even with your initiation of yesterday’s tryst, he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in you in a manner less carnal; his gaze lustful as you prepare for a livestream.
You glance at him once as if sensing the shift in the air before you press ‘start’.
As your manager, he has to be in the room for most of your activities, even the boring ones – but he can think of a few ways to make it less so. For him and you.
You greet your fans with a laugh that is akin to sunlight bursting through foliage. “Of course I missed you guys, it’s why I’m doing this live right now.”
Your company-issued phone, to read and answer comments, is slid across the table with a note meant only for you: ‘Want to play a game, good girl?’
Though your eyes widen, you type your reply in the guise of looking through your fans’ messages, ever the professional. Your glance towards his phone is pointed and when he checks it he sees the notification of your text. ‘I don’t know what you’re planning, you horny fuck, but if you think I’m losing in any game then you’re on.’
There is little ceremony in how he drops to his knees to move underneath, cautious to keep silent. The table tall enough to situate himself. Oh, how he wishes he could see your reaction. He focuses on your voice: the hesitation in which you resume speaking; the hitch in your breath as he spreads your legs; the tremble in your tone as he places his hands on your thighs.
The sight of you beneath is lewd. Your underwear, a simple cotton gray piece, is already soaked. He’d always loved the color gray, especially because of how obvious it made wetness appear.
He allowed himself a moment to appreciate everything about you. The softness of your thighs. The stretch marks on your hips. The dotted marks that lined your legs. His nose grazes your knee, breathing in the saltiness of your sweat. How badly he wants to eat you up. To wholly consume you and spit you out in broken pieces, forced to crawl back to him in order to be fixed. It’s a horrible thought, he’s well aware, but he can’t help but be fixated on the idea that you might want that as well.
Your skin is as silken as he remembers, but touching it feels utterly different, stark raving mad; he leans into that sentiment, urgent in his need to pull you closer and kiss your thigh harder, desperately starved for something he could not yet name.
He imagines it difficult for you to read through the comments let alone reply to them when his hands are caressing your waist and playing with the garter of your underwear. Blood rushes to his cock at the sighs you release every time he teasingly dips his fingers past the fabric. You’re so pretty and perfect for him, his little slut.
Phone in hand, he sends: ‘Your pussy’s so wet for me already, baby. Do you want me to eat you out?’
It’s easy to surmise when you receive it, a light gasp disrupting your sentence.
He struggles to hold his laughter when your consent is given through a grab of his hair and a shove towards your crotch. Satisfied with your enthusiasm, his lips caress you above the fabric, catching against your clit but not wanting to give you what you want. Not yet.
He teases you for ten minutes, licking up and down your clothed cunt until the fabric is fully darkened – only then does he push it aside to expose your pussy lips to him completely. Having tested the patience of both you and him, he wastes little time in capturing your clit between his lips, suctioning onto it whilst swirling his tongue.
You spread your legs wider to give more access, allowing him to move from your clit to your tight hole, slowly edging his tongue inside it. Building up the pace, he begins fucking you with it whilst rubbing your clit with two fingers in quick circular motions.
He gathers his spit around his finger before pushing the moisture into you. You lewdly clench around the digit, sucking him deeper into your depths, just as he thought you would. You’re always so good for him. He could just picture your humiliated face as he slaps his cock around your cheeks, wiping your tears and his cum around your skin. He knows you’re a pretty crier, and he’s never wanted anything more than to see those tears be caused by him.
Another finger is pushed in. Then a third. But he knows you can take it – knows that you’d be able to take everything he gives you.
When your thighs begin to stiffen and you clench around his fingers—the tell-tale sign that you’re close to completion—he stops.
He shoots off another text. ‘What a horny fucking slut, getting fingered in front of her fans like this. I wonder what they’d think if they knew how you were really like. Just a pliant little bitch who’s always ready to slut herself out at her manager’s every whim. Don’t tell me you think you deserve to cum just because you want to?’
Above, he can hear your sardonic chuckles as your knuckles wrap against the table in obvious frustration.
“I know this was a short one, but I have to go practice. I’m sorry for leaving you guys hanging,” you say with blatant venom, kicking his shoulder beneath the table. “Bye!”
He pinches your thigh in retaliation.
Before you can kick him again, he stills your leg with a firm grip.
Accepting your loss with a sigh, you rush to turn the live off, gaping at him when emerges from where he’d knelt. “What was that for?”
He grins, gums showing. “Revenge for what happened in the car. I was scolded by upper management for bringing you late, y’know?”
You punch his shoulder. “At least I let you cum… asshole. This is the second time you’ve blue-balled me.”
“Good thing I prepared this, then.” In his hand is another carton of orange juice. “Peace offering?”
“If a thousand won juice is your form of a white flag then I must say you’re quite stingy.”
“Hey, you’re the rich one in our relationship.”
“Oh, so we have a relationship now?”
His smile drops slightly as he rubs his nape. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do, actually.” Though you’re smiling, your eyes are serious, searching his for an answer that he knows he’s not yet ready to give. “I-”
He grabs your hand and places the carton in your grasp. “I’ll get you two orange juices next time, alright?”
‘Next time’, he thinks. It’s the closest thing to an answer he can give you.
The establishment of your newfound ‘relationship’ was one suffused with clandestine trysts in storage rooms and cars, and yet it had never gone past touching and tasting as if it were an unspoken rule. You sensed it in the hesitancy upon which he laid kisses across your neck and jaw, never moving upwards. There was a fragility to his movements that gave you pause as time went on and words left unspoken remained so. Taehyung was gentle even when he called you his whore, and what began as ways to relieve each others’ stress led to hours spent in the afterglow talking about anything under the weather.
What you appreciated most (even more than the times he’d go down on you for hours) were the rare glimpses into his thoughts when he’d let his guard down. His rants about how his friends sucked ass at gaming, him bringing the new mechanical keyboard he’d splurged on just to show off to you his custom-made keys, him quitting smoking when you nagged about the smell and how he subsequently would complain to you about withdrawals before having you suck him off to relieve his other urges.
You wanted to lurk upon every crevice of his mind, know every secret he held close, and you know he craved it just the same. You each felt the devastation of fear, hesitation; you shared moments lovely and small, sat beneath midnight stars in the back of his car, insignificant in the face of endlessness. A month in each other’s company and you’d grown to understand that you wanted more from him than carnality.
It is why it is no surprise to you to find his glare pointed towards the man you’re flirting with. In an effort to leave practice early to meet with friends, your hand lingers on your instructor’s arm, pleading desperation alongside a promise to work twice as hard the next day. Men are easy that way, and the next thing you know he gives you permission with a nod.
…And on the other hand, there are men like Taehyung.
“You really think you’re getting out of it that easily?”
You point at the emptied room. “Seems so.”
He scoffs with crossed arms, the definition of intimidation with his bangs casting shadows across his eyes. “You’ve been getting out of breath too quickly during dry runs.”
“I’ve been getting exercise through other means, don’t worry.” Your eyebrows wiggle.
“I’m sure your newly developed neck and hand muscles will help after hours of performing.”
“I think you’re just jealous,” you say.
His laugh is hollow, forced from the depths of some aching thing. “And why would I feel that?”
“Because you like me but you don’t want to admit it,” you say with a shrug. “And you use the whole ‘manager and idol’ thing as an excuse when really you’re just a pussy.”
There is little he can do to hinder the shocked guffaw that parts his lips at your blunt observation. “Confident, are we?”
He shakes his head but smiles in exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”
“A lot of things, I hope.” You wrap your hands around his shoulders, pulling him in closer.
“I thought you had somewhere to be.” His nose brushes against your neck, the warmth of his breath scattering goosebumps across your skin.
“My friends can wait,” you say. “I can bless them with the honor of my presence in another hour or two.”
“Oh, am I supposed to be honored that you’re choosing to spend time with me, then?”
“Don’t you know how charitable I am even if you can be kind of a dick sometimes. Or, well, all the time. But that’s just semantics.”
He hums in response, arms around your waist tightening.
“You never answered my question,” you remind him.
His brow raises. “And you never answered mine: do you really think I’m going to just let you play hooky?”
“Well, I was hoping to offer you something a little more fun than watching me exercise.” You trail your hand down his arm, nails scratching along his veins.
“Oh,” he scoffs. “Is that the same thing you were offering him?”
“I’m yours, aren’t I?”
He tilts your chin upwards. “You wanna be my object tonight, baby? Is that what you’re saying?” Taehyung tended to be all bark but no bite, but the embers lit beneath his pupils indicated that this time would be different.
“Is that even a question?” you reply.
You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, only to be met with: “Then do fifty jumping jacks. Now.”
“You’re joking, but I thought-”
“Objects aren’t supposed to think. They just do as they’re commanded... Or so your favorite erotic novel alpha males always say.”
You give him a pointed look. “Yeah, the key word being ‘erotic novel’, not ‘workout manual’.”
He holds his hands up beside his head in defense, making a face. “I’m doing this for you. And besides…” He takes a step towards you, caressing your chest. “We can always multitask.”
You groan but comply, though the feeling of doing that specific exercise is tantalizingly embarrassing when he’s watching you so closely.
“Sweating already?” He moves to stand behind you, observing from the mirror. “Let me help you.”
He stills your movement to reach around and unzip your hoodie, pulling the sleeves off your arms. Underneath, you’re only wearing a flimsy white shirt coated with sweat, leaving it transparent enough for Taehyung to see your red sports bra.
He presses his mouth to your ear and whispers, “Did I say you were finished, slut?” He laughs. “Don’t look surprised. What else could you be with your tits bouncing everywhere. The fact that you can’t even comprehend what I’m saying is just proving my point.”
You almost regret sharing with him your favorite romance books. Almost. If only because of the way your knees buckle at his degradation.
You continue the motions and Taehyung does little to disguise how he watches your chest as it bounces with every jump. With your arms outstretched, there is nothing to cover the jiggling weight.
Neither of you are keeping count but after two minutes he ceases your movement with a firm “stop”.
“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Want to play another one? I’ll reach into your panties and if you’re wet, you’ll be my personal little slut. Are you willing to take that bet, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you say without further thought, and his hands dip into your leggings and past your underwear. You already know the answer, have known it since the moment he’d walked into the room with his heavy gaze on your body.
“Oh, you’re soaking, baby,” he purrs into your neck, his fingers caressing your folds but not applying the direct pressure that your humping hips seek. “Does your pussy like the thought of being owned by me?”
His hands still with the promise of moving only when you reply. “Yes,” you cry. “I want to be your personal… I want to be your personal slut. Just please… Touch me.”
“You think you deserve to be touched for your pleasure? Are you forgetting what you’re supposed to be doing right now?”
He retracts his hand but you rush to grip his wrist. “Tae, please. I need it so bad.”
“Need what, baby?” he coos, ever softened when you use his nickname.
“I need you to finger me. To make me cum.”
To your surprise he complies, shoving two into your snatch. His fingers scissor you, stretching you out. He pushes another in, all three pushing in and out of you, making disgusting and lewd sounds.
“Aren’t idols supposed to be pure and innocent? I’m ruining you, aren’t I, slut? What would your precious fans think if they knew you liked being a whore for your manager? They’d probably lose all respect for you. Your latest stage outfit was a pretty little number too. Probably had all your fans jerking their little dicks off to your fancams. I just know if I searched your name up the first thing I’d see is some asshole doing a cum tribute to you.” He laughs. “Too bad for them they’ll never know just how tight and wet your pussy is, because I own it now, right?”
“You’ve always owned me– Fuck!” You yelp when Taehyung bites your neck. Your makeup artists were definitely going to have a hard time covering that up. “I love the way you control me so easily.”
“If you weren’t such a brat all the time it’d be a lot easier.” The speed in which his fingers met your g-spot increased. “You always seemed so uptight. Did you ever expect that you’d get played around with by your manager? The other staff members would love to know that you’re into this kinky shit. Especially your fans. Everyone’s always talking about how sexy you are but I bet you know that, don’t you? You thrive on it – want everyone to jerk off to you.”
To your dismay, he pulls out. “You were complaining about your sore throat earlier, weren’t you? I know a good solution for that.”
He tugs you by the back of your neck, moving you closer to his crotch. He pulls down the zipper, releasing the familiar length of his cock. You run your hands from the tip to his balls as if driven by pure instinct, wrought only with the need for proximity. Taking the head into your mouth, you slowly begin to swallow him until it reaches your throat. As he’d taught you, you let him deepthroat for a bit before releasing him with a gasp for air.
Patting your head, he encourages you to keep going. “What a perfect fleshlight. Born to suck cock.”
It is an all-consuming task, leaving room for little else in your mind as you make sure to avoid your teeth from scraping him as well taking note of when to suction and when to draw him deeper into your throat.
He groans with every ministration. “Doing so good for me, baby. Always my perfect slut, so good at taking dick. It’s like you were meant for it. Meant to have your throat pussy be my cum dump. At this point, this should be your job.” You look up and meet his eyes, a twinkling obsidian shade. “Ready for your medicine?”
He grabs the back of your head and takes control of the pace, roughly fucking himself with your throat. His moans grow louder, taking full advantage of the sound-proof nature of the room. You could clearly hear the sounds of your choking, spit drooling down the sides of your mouth as you struggle to keep with his rhythm. The scent of his cock sends you into overdrive, and, though you’re already wet, you feel yourself gush beneath, your pussy clinging to your underwear.
You know well enough, from his pretty groans and tightening grip, that he was about to cum.
“There you go, pretty girl. Your favorite meal. Drink it all up like the depraved cum dump you are.”
You swallow, and gasp, and swallow again. His cum, sticky and bitter, lingers in the back of your throat as you choke for a decent breath of air. It shoots into your mouth, spilling all over your tongue and lips, dripping down the sides. You gag at the taste, coughing up the creamy fluids onto the floor. Your hands tighten on his thighs, struggling to steady your lightheaded self. When he releases your hair from his grasp, you stumble back onto his crotch, heaving breaths against his softening cock.
His thumb wipes sweat from your forehead. “What are you doing, baby?” He grabs the top of your head, forcing you to look into his eyes as tears stream down yours. “That isn’t what sluts do, and I thought we already established that that’s all you are. Objects listen to their owners, don’t they?”
“I-I’m sorry,” you whine, not really apologetic when you know that he knows that cum isn’t exactly your favorite flavor.
He tugs at your hair, lifting you back onto your knees. “You’re acting like I care about what dumb little brats like you want – I don’t. Lick my cum off the floor. Now.” He grins. “And don’t forget that you got some on my boots, too.”
You hesitate, eyeing the strings of white that decorate the wooden panels and the black of his shoes.
“Consider this as punishment for trying to skip out on your exercises.” He crosses his arms, looking down at you with an unimpressed countenance. “So, now, be a good girl and lick my fucking cum off the floor.”
You move your face to the ground and give it kitten licks similar to how you liked to tease Taehyung’s cock. The taste is salty, and you shudder to wonder when the floor was last cleaned. You look up, hoping that that act of obedience is enough to quell his thirst for domination over you. It isn’t.
“I said, clean it up,” he hisses. “Do I really have to grab the back of your head for this? Yeah?” He pushes your head to stay close to the floor. “Don’t just stay there like a stupid bitch. Open your fucking mouth, let me see that tongue. Yeah… There we go, baby.”
You do as he says, collecting his spilt cum.
“All of it,” he groans, watching you debase yourself for his entertainment. “The boots, too.”
You move towards his feet that are impatiently tapping against the floor. Your tongue hesitantly drops out of your mouth, trying to touch as little of it as possible.
Unexpectedly, he presses his shoe against your lips, causing you to deeply lick the length of it in surprise. “You’re not doing a thorough enough job, slut. Don’t disappoint me.”
Once you’ve deemed it spotless you look up to face him. “Is that good enough, your highness?”
He snorts, helping you stand up after having knelt for the better half of an hour. “You mean, was that good enough for you to finally cum?” He reaches between your legs to smack your sensitive pussy, aiming for your swollen clit. “Still want more, baby?”
You nod, whimpering in pain at the unexpected hit.
“Sluts are always horny, aren’t they? Since I’m so good to you, I’ll let you hump against my boot to relieve yourself.”
“Oh, fuck you-”
He grabs you by the chin, tugging you to his face. “Don’t try to hide that you’re an insatiable slut now. I know exactly who you are and what you want. And I know that what you want is to be humiliated like this. Now be a good bitch and fuck yourself on my shoe.”
What’s more humiliating is the speed in which you position yourself below him as you slowly squat down until your crotch brushes against the hard tip. Your hands grip his trousers as you begin humping his boot. You struggle to find enough stimulation, still wearing your underwear and leggings. “Tae,” you whine. “It’s not enough.”
Frustration makes way for pleasure when Taehyung angles his foot up just right. Your moans are relentless now as you buck your hips wildly without rhyme or reason. You are simply a vessel controlled by pleasure, exactly as he wants you.
“Yeah, rub your clit against my shoe like the well-trained slut that you are.” He spits on your face, the fluid dripping down your nose and onto your lips. “You know that I don’t care about your pleasure, right? You’re just an entertaining toy to me. Who owns you?”
“You,” you whine. “You own me, Tae.”
“Then cum, baby.”
Your orgasm is an all-consuming force that possesses your body. It starts at your stomach, that incendiary pulse, before you feel it between your thighs. You can tell that you’ve lost all bodily control by the numbness in your hands and feet and how one second you are humping Taehyung’s shoe and the next you’re laying flat on the ground, his figure towering over you.
Your pussy is still attached to his shoe, and, as if it is an unconscious desire, you continue to move against it until your senses return, reminding you of the pain that overstimulation causes.
He kneels down and lifts his hand, and you aren’t sure what he’s doing until you feel his fingers brush against your cheek, gently wiping away a tear. “You did so well for me, today.”
Rivers trail down your face as you shake your head with what was left of your strength. “I need more.”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
You meet his gaze. “Tae, I want you to kiss me.”
He blinks, gulps, and stutters, “What?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
Despite everything you’d done together you’d still yet to share that one intimate act. Perhaps because doing so would make everything feel so much more real.
You caress the side of his face, watching as he watches you, hesitant to make the first move. The silent anticipation weighs upon you like honey, dense yet saccharine, and you slowly move closer and closer until you feel his breath on your skin. His eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes and back.
“You can kiss me already, you know,” he mutters.
“I’m not the one scared of my feelings,” you say. “I can wait for you as long as it takes.”
And so he does.
When you kiss it simply feels right. His head tilts as you deepen it, licking his bottom lip. Your hands run through his hair, the perm he’d kept when you complimented it one too many times. You kiss him until his bottom lip swells and he kisses you until your mouth is numb. He wrestles your top over you, kissing down your arms before meeting back at your mouth.
There are touches that feel like beginnings and touches that feel like endings, but this one felt so awfully far from either, tucked perfectly between as if whispering of times past and times present. It feels like comfort, his hand on your neck, a grip so gentle that the promise of it was what had you gasping for breath. It is new yet familiar all the same, and when he kisses you harder—pressed against you as if in fear of letting go—you kiss him back with all the same intensity.
When you break apart, he steadies himself with hands wrapped around your waist, hair covering his face as he looks down with astonished laughter. You think that he is gorgeous in a way that makes your heart ache, but it is when he looks up, noticing your admiration, that your breath catches.
You collide once more and there are no more questions, no more waiting.
He lifts his shirt off and tosses it to the side before draping his body across the length of your own. Though the floor is hard against your back, you’re distracted by the rigidity of his muscles pressed against you.
“Do you have a condom?” you remind him.
He curses, standing up. He almost trips over himself in his rush to his bag, rummaging through it for the plastic wrapper. He makes a victorious sound when he finds it, holding it above his head. “Got it!”
You laugh into your hand. “Hurry up, you loser.”
He gets back on top of you, pressing kisses around your face. He kicks off his pants until he’s as naked as you are before positioning himself above your hole.
“Is this okay?” He rubs the head of his cock against your clit.
“More than okay,” you say.
The heat of him sliding into your pussy sparks kindles in your gut. He’s rough yet gentle. Too fast yet too slow. A paradox of sensations encapsulated by the longing gaze in his eyes and the torturous grip he has on your nipples.
He pulls out until only the tip is in before slamming his hips against yours, balls smacking your ass with a clapping sound. He repeats the motion until you’re drooling, rocking back and forth.
“You feel so good,” he moans, moving to grip your tiger-striped thighs. He lowers you until he’s buried balls deep into your warmth, and you can feel his hard length spasming as he adjusts to the tightness. “Feels so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. No one compares to you, baby.”
Despite the thin layer of protection you can feel every vein rub against the soft walls of your cavern. It deliciously fills you up until you’re delirious, drowning in the feeling.
“How many cocks have you had before me?”
“Two.” A friend and a boyfriend – neither of which mattered when the only cock you could think of was Taehyung’s.
“What I would give to have been the one to take your virginity.” He sighs. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck the memory of them out of you.”
His hips begin to thrust into you with a pace you can barely comprehend. The head of his cock reaches so deep, much farther than any cock or toy has ever gone. He pushes into you as if you were a pussy pocket crafted for his pleasure, holding your thighs to your chest in a mating press.
Your breath hitches with every upwards thrust as you struggle to speak. Words swim in your head, a thousand lines of ink dotting across pages like stars that twinkle in and out of existence, unable to catch them before they disappear.
He bites the lobe of your ear, tugging it. His hands caress the entirety of your body with wild abandon, struck with the need to feel you – to ensure that you are really the one beneath him. You, the gravitas of which he orbits.
When you begin twitching underneath him he focuses on hitting your g-spot, lessening the speed. He pulls out then slams back in, repeating it over and over and over. He taps your clit in rapid succession, occasionally rubbing before landing a hard smack against the nub. His other hand goes to your neck, applying pressure to the sides of it. Your mind goes blank. Your legs go numb. Then somewhere between your legs you feel it.
The orgasm is euphoric. You thrash in his hold, the pleasure all too much for your mind and body to take. The feeling is everywhere.
“That’s it, baby.” His thrusts begin to lose rhythm as he chases his own release in wild abandon. “So good for me. Mine. All mine.”
He cums into the condom with one final jerk, burying himself as deep into you as he could. The overstimulation is just enough to not be too painful as he stays inside you for a few moments more, barely able to pull himself out of your warmth.
His eyes are blown wide as he flops to the ground beside you, tying then tossing the condom to the side. “That was…”
“I can’t believe we waited that long to fuck.” The punch you land on his shoulder is weak.
He carries your limp body to the couch he’d massaged you on that fateful month before and gently lays your head against a cushion. Brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead, he places a kiss on your temple. It’s gentle.
“How are you feeling?” He slips beside you until you’re laying side by side and nudges his nose against your shoulder like a cat seeking attention. “Was I too much?”
“No, it was really good, trust me.” Try as you did, there weren’t words in your vocabulary that could sufficiently explain what you had just experienced.
His eyes flicker the length of figure as if attempting to convince himself that he, indeed, had not accidentally fucked your body to the point of destruction. He pouts but sighs, taking your word for it.
Abashed in the afterglow, he asks once more, “You know I didn’t mean most of what I said, right?”
“Most?” You grin. “So what did you say that you did mean?”
“I’m sure I called you pretty once or twice,” he grumbles, burying his face in your neck.
“You already know that I like it,” you assured him. “You’re always so good to me, Tae.”
His eyes soften as he laughs, the melody of it soothing. “It’s because it’s you. And I like you.”
“If I had known that the way to get you to admit your feelings for me was to fuck you then I would’ve done it ages ago.”
There’s a long pause as he composes himself. His hair tickles your neck, his arm a gentle weight around your stomach, and you feel the warmth of skin not your own.
“Shut up.” His ears are red as he flicks your forehead with faux nonchalance. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
Dizzy in the moment, you reach up to cup his face and kiss him. He meets your lips with a gentle eagerness, trailing his fingertips across your chest and along the grooves of your collarbones.
“I like you, too,” you say. “But I also really, really hate you. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”
He laughs, pecking your shoulder. “Good thing I’m here to massage you then.”
thank u for reading!! <3 if u liked it let me know ! : ✉
© rendaze 2022. all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.
…𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠…
━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist
━ about: angst, hurt/ some comfort ? a little bit of crack?? In this economy?
━ pictures taken from Pinterest
━ a/n: mayhaps this doesn't have as much grovelling as promised but I couldn't really think of a way one could write such a thing in seven different ways but it's still very much begging, very desperate, all that good stuff. Please do leave a review this was an ambitious project. Word count: 9.1k, rip.
NAMJOON: When hearing his pleading voice for the thousandth time, in the span of this one day only mind you, you slammed the phone on the desk with an irritated huff. The knowledge that people were still even capable of leaving voicemails had cost you dearly. For good measure, hurling the accursed device into the corner, you tightened the shawl around your neck, managed to grab onto the umbrella and lumbered out. Anywhere, to any direction and earth's current, if only you didn't have to think about him.
Recalling Namjoon, the grip on your handle tightened, making it produce a tortured groan.
"Shut up!" you barked at it. Rain pelted harshly on the world below, making it both difficult to see and walk. Rather detrimental to the whole thing to be outside. It took approximately 0.5s and 2 steps for your thoughts to begin curling around Namjoon. Who does he think he is? Does he think he's so unforgettable? Does he think he's some sort of God graced upon the world that you should take him back even after you tried so hard to erase him?! After you put all that hard work to return him back to the sea of strangeness and unfamiliarity?!
"Baby, baby, please, I beg of you, I am begging, just hear me out. Five minutes! Please, just five minutes!"
That was his last voicemail and chiefly the rest of them as well.
It was just five minutes... What were five minutes exactly? A little bit more than your favourite song. A scene in a movie. Passing. Fleeting. Just a slip in time...
No! No, no, no! Five minutes meant meeting his eyes, five minutes meant thousands of good memories, and five minutes meant remembering laying in his arms, reading a book together in quiet content. But Namjoon was gone. All of it was gone. It was down the drain just like this rain pooling around the sewer grates. Useless to remember, useless to yearn for. Just. Gone.
Shaking off the water onto the carpet inside the coffee shop, you were greeted by the pleasant ding of the gold-coated bell over your head and warmly smiling, you greeted the barista.
"One large coffee and a slice of marzipan cake for ____________. To go, please."
The scrape of the chair disturbed the previous mellow of the corner coffee shop with such vibrancy, not a soul was left unstirred. A tall figure, standing in the middle of the floor, gaping like a deer in headlights with mouth flopping open and closed like a fish.
You prayed he didn't see you.
But it was hard to believe given that Namjoon was staring right at you.
Without a moment's hesitation, you turned on the heel and ran into the rain, not even bothering to open up the umbrella again. The rain was cold and unforgiving, making you shudder in practically no time. Yes, it was the cold that made you tremble so.
"Baby! Baby! Please, wait!"
You could hear his voice travelling fast from behind, gaining much-unwanted attention. Namjoon's unfair genetic advantage that had granted him those very same legs you once drooled over, caught up with you in no time and soon enough you were forced to look at his grief-stricken visage. Seeing him up close, without the hindrance of anger and resentment, made your breath catch in your throat. It could hardly be believed you were ever together, given how beautiful he was. Despite his hair stuck to his forehead, bags so blue you'd think he was punched and, quite honestly, the smell he emitted, Namjoon was stunning.
Gorgeous Namjoon. Gorgeous...lying, arrogant, conceited douchebag of a scum!
"Baby," he leaned down to your face. "Baby, please, just listen!"
"I'm not your fucking baby," you screamed. "I told you we are done!"
Pushing past him, you tried to haul yourself away, only to be caught by an elbow.
"Unhand me, sir!"
A glitch of a faint smile appeared on his lips, only deepening your glare. Keeping arms firmly to himself, he began:
"I can't say how sorry I am."
"I can't live without you."
"Are you dying?" you scoffed, tossing him a pointed glower. "Right at this moment are you dying?"
Shit...he might just be. Those were definitely two different shoes on his feet.
"Might as well," he cried back. "Please, I'm going crazy! I need you back," you opened your mouth but Namjoon rushed faster. "And I understand I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I understand all of that! But all the same, I'm begging. I'll do anything! Anything! I promise!"
"And how many things you promised before you broke them all?" you asked him trying to sound stern, uncaring but the eternal treachery of your voice betrayed you. You sounded hurt. Just as hurt as he appeared to be. "I will spend time with you, _____________. I would never blow you off like that, _____________. I will never make you feel jealous, ___________!"
You felt your bottom lip wobble whilst he stood like that in front of you - absolutely drenched, gaze lowered miserably at the ground.
"I know," he croaked. "I know I didn't treat you as well as I should have and I'm sorry. I was stupid. I thought...I took you for granted and didn't think that you could leave."
It took a whole half a minute for his words to settle and be recognized for all their meaning but once they did, you turned red from fury.
"You fucking arrogant asshole! Kim Namjoon, you're...You're!" failing to think of anything, you yelped out of frustration. Now people were definitely looking. Who did he think he was?! The man you loved?! The tall and gorgeous lover of your dreams who had dimples and spoke softly to animals and would rather go bike riding than flex the money he had with some dumb overpriced car?! Did he really think that being sorry could tempt you back to him?!
Doesn't it, a faint yet lingering voice whispered to the forefront of your mind.
"Please, if you don't want to listen, then don't," at last he quietly muttered. Chills racked your body upon hearing the quiver in his voice. He was actually crying. The strongest man you knew. Was crying. Over you, no less.
"Just please, read this," from the pocket of his jacket, he thrust a handful of papers at you. "And uhm don't toss it out and uhh just...remember I do love you."
With the long jacket flapping in the wind, he ran off, palm pressed to his mouth.
It was hard to see him like this. Especially considering you always assumed it'd be you who was the only broken one once the relationship had fizzled. Returning back home, now thoughtful and dragging your feet, you poured over the rain-distorted pages. Letters? Pages of a diary? Poems? It was hard to describe what you were reading but nonetheless, it was a strenuous read.
Namjoon had kept a chaotic but remarkably consistent journal that started with the first day you met. You never knew he had to work up the courage to speak to you for whole two weeks. You had merely assumed that the sly handsome idol had no business being shy. Reading about yourself made you blush and paradoxically understand Namjoon better than ever. He did love you. He still does if today's entry was anything to go by. This love overwhelms him
"Like an ocean in the hold of a single cup," he wrote. That night he'd been watching you sleep and had a panic attack, breaking down in the bathroom thinking of all the things that could go wrong.
"Why didn't you just wake me and talk?" you whispered at the pages, feeling the familiar sting of tears. You'd been tired from work, he wrote on the next page, he dared not to trouble you, dared not to ask too much, having in his mind done so already.
Having read that you snapped the book shut and after unlocking the phone wrote one concise message.
"Kim Namjoon, you're an idiot and I love you all too much."
YOONGI: Chapter Three. Paradise Lost. The words and the blinking cursor stared at you with open mockery. Ten whole minutes you sat here and couldn't think of a single word. How could you when you felt the weight of his gaze - lingering, smothering, flattering. Like you were the centre of his whole universe...
Violently you shook your head. Flattering. You were the centre of his whole universe. Lies. Meagre pillows of comfort, you shielded yourself with. You were not his anything, he had made it abundantly clear. Whatever this was...well, it was misguided all the same. You even managed to work up some anger. This was your place, your quiet solitude in the night, a beacon in whose light you could bask when the familiarity of your burrowed apartment was too much to bear. In this small night coffee shop, you could drown. You could forget all about him and yet here he was intruding upon the very sanctity he himself created the need for.
Reddening, you slammed your laptop shut, briefly meeting his gaze. Without shame or inhibition, he stared at you, long fingers twiddling with the cooling cup of black coffee. You knew he knew you knew and so on. Just two idiots both staring at each other without saying a word. With your head spinning from the implications, you stomped your way to the door, chin raised high. Whatever he wanted it was too late now. You hated him. Just like you said.
"I hate you, Min Yoongi!" you yelped, whipping around to tear your hand away from his, tears running down your face. Batting them harshly away, you let the poison out. It was strangely cathartic. As violent as it was there was some peace to be had in the raw honesty, finally fleeing into the aether.
Yoongi recoiled as though burnt, shock painting his features into something you'd not seen before.
"You don't mean that," he breathed weakly. "Please, don't say that."
"You're the worst thing that has ever happened to me! We're done! It's over!"
And alright maybe you didn't hate him. Maybe you still thought, weeks after you parted, did he eat anything at all today, was he tired, but in the face of your own wounded pride, it felt critical to be cruel. Repay his own, even if he hadn't meant it and maybe hadn't even seen it.
He was squirming in his red, upholstered seat; the closer you got, the more anxious he became, like a hamster realizing it was caught in a cage, he visibly flitted between various scenarios. You tried your best to not pay him any mind and continue your escape, out into the cold night. Alone, yes but with your ego preserved.
If that made anything better...
At last, just before you were past his booth, a warm yet roughened palm reached to encircle your wrist. Cautiously, as if he was frightened his own touch hurt.
"Please, don't leave..." fell broken out of his lips. Muffled behind the mask but still loud enough for you to hear. Grinding your teeth, you tried to recall every single night of disappointment. Every night that you cried yourself to sleep because he lied. He had lied when he said he'd be there for you.
"I don't want to hear it," you snapped but it sounded too uncertain; written on a prompt message that had flashed too fast for you to properly read.
"Please, just sit down. Let's talk... even if it's for the last time."
"Funny, you never wanted to talk before."
Yoongi cringed, his gaze darting to sit guilty on the dirtied table. Ah, there it was - the poison. It felt bad to be cruel; before at least it was the steady hand of rage that guided you towards being this person that you truly hated to be, but now...now, it just felt hollow.
Sitting down opposite him, you watched silently as he removed the mask. Kindly put, Yoongi looked like death warmed over.
"You look like shit," you reckoned and he gave a brittle, weary laugh, running a hand through the squished, clearly unwashed hair.
"Yeah, well, a living hell does that to a person."
"I'm not," sternly, he shook his head, briefly closing his eyes as though carding through rows and rows of pain-filled memories. "I've barely slept, barely eaten anything since you left. I...I keep replaying those words in my head," he grasped at the roots of his hair, panting dejectedly at his lap. "I wanted to hate you. No one has ever broken my heart like this."
You scoffed, crossing your arms over chest. If you do this, it'll mean you won't shatter like fine glass.
"Then go on!" you urged. "Hate me! Loathe me! Curse my name and spit on any reminder of my existence!"
"I can't!" he cried out. "No matter how hard I try, I want you more than ever. I want to drag you away from your writing, I want to complain about the half-empty cups you leave across the house, I want to make you that stupid mac-and-cheese you love so much!"
Your breath stuttered.
"I want you to be angry with me, I want you to nag me, I want to be annoyed," eyes shining with unshed tears, he continued to drop the words so fat you could barely make them apart anymore. "Want to wear your scrunchies around my wrist, want to make furniture for you, want to clean the shower because you hate doing it."
Then, he bowed his head, leaving you for the first time ever, utterly and properly speechless.
"Please, take me back. Let me come home to you."
"Music was your home," you argued but with his head still low, Yoongi disagreed.
"It's not anymore. It's just a house now. Just a roof over the head. I'm...I'm not the same as I was before and yes, it scared me, yes, I was a coward, yes, I ran away from you and you have the right to be angry!"
More than the guilt in them, you hated Yoongi's eyes. It was the first thing you notice about him when he was just a masked stranger asking to split the table in a busy cafe. Sitting across each other just like this, you remember being entranced by the way his feline eyes darted all over the place, subtly observing each life going in their own ways. You hated how much you had stared at him that day, so much so, the only thing written down was cat, cat, cat, cat, to appear as though you were working. You hated to remember how happy those eyes were when you finally mustered up the courage to show him your work and how they had squinted in noiseless laughter when he realized that the black cat guarding your main hero was just him reimagined as a feline.
There was so much to be hated about Min Yoongi...so why you couldn't do it?
"Let me crawl back home to you."
"What of your precious pride?" you tried to hiss but it came out like a genuine question.
"It's meaningless," he murmured. "What pride is there to sit staring at the wall, whole days and nights passing by. So, please, take me back. I'll do everything you ask just please, let me be your home again."
"My home?" you echoed, faintly.
"You'll always be mine even if you're gone."
JIN: The greeting got stuck in your throat like a bite of a dry chicken. Grazing just down the windpipe, making it impossible to speak. The sight of him standing there, over the sink of your childhood home, washing dishes of all things and shifting anxiously from one foot to another, was enough to knock the air out of your lungs.
"Hello! Oh, ___________!" your mother chastised. "Why didn't you tell me you had such a lovely fiance?"
Your gaze fixated numbly on Jin. On his stupid face, on his stupid curls on that stupid jumper you gifted him on the first birthday you'd been there to celebrate.
Jin had been many firsts and most of all the first man you failed to get rid of the second things were off. He was like a rash on the butt, definitely nothing more complimentary - an annoying thing making it impossible to live, to have a peaceful breather. He was always there, reminding you that he did exist, making you miserable.
"Fiance?" dumbly, you echoed, too taken aback to even be angry. Being with Jin was another life, one you left behind at that; to see him here was as jarring as having a tree fall on top of your head.
"Yes, he arrived here late at night, yesterday," your mother continued to chatter on, oblivious to the lingering tension. "Introduced him all proper, asked for my blessing, helped me to lug in the Christmas tree this morning. Didn't you, Seokjinnie?"
If the red ears were anything to go by, then your mother had put him through Machiavellian levels of mortification for many consecutive hours now. So why was he here?
Meeting his gaze you wanted to ask just that.
Why are you here? What was this charade all about?
"I see," you, stated flatly. "I'll put my things away."
Quickly, you brushed past him to your bedroom, hearing a vague -
"Seokjin, dry your hands! Don't run off all dripping wet."
- coming from behind. Slamming the doors, you were unsurprised to find Jin's things already waiting for you there, having invaded this corner of your life that he had no business being in. He wasn't anything to you anymore. Just a stranger returned back to the tides of faceless crowds from which he emerged in a moment of delirious, star-stricken fancy. That's all that ever was to it. That's all you ever were to him, just a fleeting fancy he got caught up in too eagerly. The familiar ball and chain that everyone complained about were not as sturdy as they made it seem, engagements could be called off, relationships torn apart and hearts broken with the same ease it took to dust off a jacket.
"________________! Come decorate the tree!"
Languidly, you put one bauble around the piercing branches, ignoring the swelter of his lingering glance. At last, when he'd been drilling in the back of our head for so long you could swear it physically gave you a fever, you hissed surreptitiously at him, pretending to smile so your mother wouldn't have to know of how her precious Seokjinnie was by far the last person on the planet you wanted to speak with.
"How dare you come here," you accused him and he withered, hearing the sheer vitriol in your voice. "How dare you tell her you're my fiance? When we're done?!"
Jin frowned at the tree, haphazardly shoving the silver-coated balls on the needles.
"Please, we can't be done," he replied. "Let's just talk it out, okay?"
"I don't want to talk it out! If me leaving Seoul was not abundantly clear."
"You still kept the ring."
"Oh my god, is that what it's all about? The ring?" you yanked at the chain around your neck. Perhaps you shouldn't have kept it at all but it was an antique family heirloom and by the time you realized it was still around your neck, having grown so used to it, the jewellery felt like a natural part of your body, and the plane had already landed. "Here, you can have it!"
"Don't you dare," he growled, squeezing your palm to be still before falling quiet as your mother entered the living room. Jin was still wearing his own ring, it glistened around his finger in the sparkling Christmas lights.
Your mother's eyes darted between the two of you, clearly confused over the fraught expressions you both wore.
"Seokjin, do you mind helping me with the bean sprouts?"
Hell-bent on playing the role of the perfect upcoming son-in-law, Jin could only nod with a tight smile, unwillingly letting his hand drop.
"Be right there," nasally, he promised and dragged his feet towards the kitchen. As your hands trembled, one of the baubles fell onto the floor. In what seemed like slow motion, you watched it fly through the air, determinately swinging towards its own destruction and then shatter, shards flinging all over the hardwood floor.
"_____________, don't," Jin cried out but you didn't listen, squatting down to pick it up. Just as expected the tremors in your hands though small were enough for the sharpened edge to ungainly scrape against the skin, slicing it open.
Suddenly, it all felt too much and with tears threatening to burst, you ran outside the door, into the sobering winter where nothing was happy enough to pour any more bitterness into your heart. Unlike the ever-present bustle, your home was quiet. It lay on the edge of an unfarmed field with nary neighbours around. It was frighteningly quiet but soothing in a fevered moment such as this. Coming to a stop by an old shed, one you used to sneak cigarettes with a couple of friends in a reckless youth, you leaned against it and panted into the bristling cold. Clumps of snow fell lazily from the sky. Without hurry, completely careless. You yearned for that kind of serenity.
Hearing the crunch of the snow, you glimpsed around the corner, watching as Jin fell face-first into the thick snow, cursing as he did so. You almost laughed at the sight, only to remember that you promised to never, ever see him again.
He found you with relative ease, there was nothing else in the snowed-in field anyhow and he peered down at you with storming judgement.
"What are you doing running out in this weather?" he scolded, throwing a jacket over your shoulders.
"You have no right to reprimand me," you grumbled but he didn't listen and instead reached to examine the small cut on your finger, fishing a band-aid from the pocket of his jeans. Quietly you watched his brows furrow in concentration, treating this scrape as vitally as one would a heart surgery. Circling the band-aid around your finger, he breathed a soft:
"There we go," and pressed your palm against his cold lips.
"I want you to take me back," he stated honestly, leaving another kiss, this time higher up the arm. "Yell at me if you need to, curse me out in front of your mother if you want to but please take me back."
"Your family -"
"I explained either me and you or no one at all," he murmured, slowly inching upwards and on instinct, your eyes closed, when tepidly he kissed your neck. "I was wrong for not saying so in the first place but now it's clear. If they love me, they'll accept you."
"And if they don't?"
"I'll move here if I must," he grunted, lightly breezing past your chin. Your fingers dug into that stupid green sweater. In the monochrome grey of a desolate winter, it stood out like a blood-curdling scream.
Graceless, he walked with you backwards, pinning you to the broken shed. You felt its wet cold seep through the clothing.
You should really slap this bastard and yet when he kissed you, you moaned, eyes popping wide open. The Jin you knew would never do this - he wouldn't press you up against a wall, so needy, so assured, he wouldn't fly out into the middle of nowhere and charm your mother.
"Have you gone insane?" you whispered, pushing him away and yet he refused to budge more than two centimetres. When he exhaled, you could feel the warmth on your face.
"Quite possibly," Jin nodded, chasing your lips, the glimpse in his eye almost look crazed, desperate - without a doubt. "Please, I'll do anything for you. Take me back and I'll build a home for you. Be it Seoul, here, or anywhere you like."
"You wouldn't be happy outside of home."
"You are my home," he twirled the ring between his fingers, enveloping you in his embrace as you shuddered from the cold. "And won't let anyone ruin that."
HOSEOK: He darted from the seat, the second you were escorted into the private room. Gentle music and easy conversation swayed in the background, illuminated by the soft romantic lights of numerous candles adorning the white-clothed tables which you imagined looked much like the one Hoseok had sat by just a second ago. Tugging at your clothes, you couldn't help but flush from embarrassment. You were so clearly from a different tax bracket but carding through the closet, the best clothes you found were his. His presents to be exact, however, after everything that happened, it felt wrong. Showcasing his numerous gifts on you would just give the wrong kind of signal - that you were still his and that...You weren't anymore. That should be the end of that. Even if he clearly had something to say against it.
"___________," he gasped, appearing shocked. "Thank you for coming."
You waited for the server to leave, and only then you spoke. Calm, collected, without any emotion. You'd been practising the entire week now. But standing in front of a mirror and gazing at it with soul-sapped eyes was not the same as standing in front of the love of your life and keep insisting that it was all over.
"You hardly gave me a choice," you shrugged. "You hounded my co-workers, friends, landlord, my parents, Hoseok. My parents."
He cringed, biting on his lip.
"I know," Hoseok drawled guiltily. "But I was...I was desperate. You were just gone and I was going crazy."
With a sigh, silence settled between you.
"I believe fifteen minutes is what you asked for," you sat down, firmly rejecting his feeble attempts to pull out your chair. "So fifteen minutes is what you're going to get."
"Thank you," he bowed, quickly rushing to sit in front of you. "You're too gracious."
"That I am," you murmured, taking a long sip from the wine glass. Some couldn't hurt. Maybe even a lot. After all, he'd hurt you enough, no amount of alcohol could deal that kind of damage. Whether or not he'd heard you, you couldn't tell, either way, he ignored the remark.
Exhaling, a nerve-riddled breath, he fixed the lapels of his suit jacket and after fixating you with a firm gaze, said:
"I beg of you to take me back."
The wine splattered all over the white tablecloth. Feeling it drip unhandsomely down your chin, you reached for a napkin but Hoseok was quicker. He wiped the wine away, letting his fingers graze past your lips. Your heart hammered and h you wished that it would be from indignance.
"You can't be serious!"
From the look in his eye, he really was not lying. That sort of cutthroat determination you'd seen on him only once - when he was dancing and trying to beat someone or something. The difference between the smiling, jovial man who asked you out on a date and that one was so startling it took you whole two business days to get over.
Hoseok was like a box of chocolates with the labels all crossed out. You could reach for one candy, expecting a sour tangy filling, of rum, perhaps, or a lemon zest and be met in the end by the sweetness of dripping caramel. It was fun for a while, it kept you on your toes and then...then it was less fun when you realized you never really knew the man you were with. When you couldn't reach for him on the saddest of days and expect assuredness of a well-rehearsed answer. He was always different and what you got, in the end, was no more than just a repainted mask he wielded against everyone else. Chocolates were good and fun but they couldn't substitute meals and expensive presents couldn't buy true love.
"________________, please, take m-"
"Hors d' oeuvres are served," the waiter, literally having spawned out of thin air, stated. Hoseok pulled away, jaw clenching in annoyance. "Tzaziki Shrimp Cucumber Rounds. Enjoy!"
"Thank you," you bid the waiter thinly. When the doors closed behind him, another pause of stilted silence lingered in the air.
"I know I'm asking much," Hoseok began but with a furious shake of the head, you interrupted.
"You're asking the impossible, Hoseok! What even? How did you? I mean, what?" stumbling, upon the words, you suppressed the deceitful sting in the corners of your eyes. "You're just saying these things because you know I'm weak."
"You're not weak!" he argued with a furrowed brow. "Don't you ever say such a thing about yourself!"
"Then why are you asking - "
"Because I love you!"
Your head quirked to gaze at him. Defeated, Hoseok sighed.
"I love you. Madly, utterly, completely. I was shit at showing it and I know you have every right to be mad at me. These past few weeks..." he trembled, glimpsing to the side. "Have been an honest hell. I hate myself for making you feel -"
"Cheap?" you finished, voice quivering. "Like I could be bought?"
"Yes," he swallowed in regret. "I can never fully undo the damage or express how sorry I am enough. But I do love you. I've never loved anyone like I do you," capturing your fingers in his, he continued. "I promise I will learn, I'll listen, I'll do anything you ask of me but, please, let me love you, let me cherish you, let us grow old together. There's a future for us, I know I crave it but so must -"
"You guys enjoying your food?"
This time a scream physically tore from your chest as unexpectedly a third figure simply manifested without any warning beforehand. Hoseok's grasp on your palm tightened and so did his jaw.
"What's your name?" he inquired the waiter, not letting his gaze stray away from your face. Not even a little bit.
"Jae, do yourself a favour and get lost."
"Okay!" With a hollow smile, Jae scurried through the doors. The third and final bout of silence began.
"I can't be here anymore," you spluttered, detaching your hand from his. It wasn't surgically tied together, so why, why did it hurt so much?
"______________," Hoseok whimpered. In his mouth, your name sounded like a benediction. You couldn't stand to hear so much...love in his voice. Telling yourself he'd never loved you was the only dam that prevented you from crying one lonely night after the next. With the restaurant turning into a blur of cream colours, you rushed out into the street, maniacally looking for any escape. A bus stopped near and you ran towards it, uncaring about where it took you as long as it was far, far away.
You caught a glimpse of Hoseok chasing after you, despairingly trying to find you in the pandemonium that was a Friday evening in a well-known district. Over and over again, he traced every car and window but as you had ducked out of the sight, he couldn't do so, no matter the effort. When the bus rolled away, you saw his shoulders drop, and after pressing a palm over his mouth, he simply sobbed right there in the middle of the otherwise joyful crowd.
JIMIN: Anyone has had those times in their life, right? When you'd done something crazy, something you could only gape at from this point of view, wondering what the hell were you thinking. It didn't even feel like a part of your life at most times, merely a scandalous story you'd imagined, not lived through. You were happy to say that after three months, it had finally come to the point where you could delude yourself into thinking it had not been real. It did not feel real anyhow. Returning back to normalcy had sapped any credibility of the various memories bubbling right underneath your skin. On good days, you thought of Jimin only once, in passing, and then you lived your life. On bad days, however...on bad days you'd be plagued by his visage on every billboard and poster in the city, every radio would have his voice singing, and every innocuous google search would somehow end up in compilations of his laughter. You feared to remember and feared to forget it. But no matter how bad the days were before, it was nothing compared to the clammy dread pulsating with every one of your heartbeats.
"How do you even know who I am?" you licked at your dry lips, questioning if this too was even real. The time on the clock showed 3:26 am and on the phone, with you, there was Kim Namjoon.
"Jimin stares at your pictures all the time. He also mutters your name. In his sleep."
That... that can not be true.
"I...I don't -"
"Listen, __________, frankly, I don't quite know who exactly you are to Jimin or what even happened, I just know that he is spiralling. He's drinking every moment he gets, he doesn't eat, and he sleeps only when he can't stand upright anymore. The only time he's calm is when he's staring at your picture."
You lean into your duvet, feeling much like crying yourself.
"I realize you are not obligated to help him," Namjoon continues, much softer. "But please, I am scared for him and if he meant anything to you, just please, talk to him at least one last time."
This is not real. This is not real, keeps running through your mind as you board the plane, as it takes hours to go back to the one place you thought you'd be done with forever and climb onto the once familiar elevator. Your life is once again a dream. Or a nightmare. Yeah, that felt like it.
When you climbed out onto Jimin's floor, you were horrifically met by Namjoon and Taehyung, both of whom stared at you as though you were a mythical creature, ripped out of the pages of a long-lost fantasy book.
"He's in there," curtly, Namjoon tossed a head towards the doors, dragging gaping Taehyung with him. "We'll give you some room."
You nodded in compliance, pushing open the doors with a bated breath. Dusk had settled deep over the rooms and the air was stuffed full with the stench of alcohol. You wandered quietly through the apartment until at last you stumbled upon a crumpled figure wrapped haphazardly underneath a pile of blankets.
"Jimin?" you called out cautiously and the pile wobbled until a messy head poked through. His eyes were swollen, clearly having been crying for most if not the whole day, and dry spit clung to the corner of his mouth. He squinted at you standing in the middle of his bedroom.
"Go away," he grumbled and turned away.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
At the sound of your booming voice, he jolted, gripping the sides of his head.
"How dare you behave this way? How dare you degrade yourself to this level?!"
Blinking blearily, Jimin whimpered:
"___________________? Is it really you?"
"Who else could it possibly be?" you scoffed and he hiccuped, shamefully looking at the floor.
"Dunno...when I drink enough, I see you around."
You cringed, hearing this. No wonder, Namjoon said he was scared.
"And do I yell at you also?"
"No, you just say you hate me."
"I don't hate you," you sighed and Jimin's head whipped up so fast, you swore there was a crack.
"Then take me back," he fought with the sheets, to crawl out of the bed, one leg stuck in his trousers. "Take me back, please!"
"Have you no shame? No dignity left?" you wondered aloud, seeing him on his knees, still drunk most likely.
"I don't need dignity," he cried out. "I don't need pride. I just need you back. I need you," he swayed back and forth, growing hysteric. "You're the love of my life!"
"Don't say that when you're drunk," you snapped, willing yourself to treat him fairly. You'd coddled him before and it was at the expense of your own heart. Not this time. Not even when you wanted so bad it hurt. "They're just lies."
"They're not lies!"
"Well, I still don't believe you! Do you really think by ruining yourself you're making me love you more?! Do you really think that being pitiful is enough to earn my forgiveness?"
He choked back a sob, batting at his wet cheeks.
"I know you hate me..."
"I don't hate you! Why do you always think in extremes?! I'm disappointed! I'm angry! Get your fucking shit together, for God's sake, Jimin! I want you to respect me and respect yourself and not do whatever this is because this," harshly, you gestured over his crouched figure, trembling in the cold air of his messed up apartment. "This is not cute. It's terrifying!"
Perhaps you'd been too harsh but either way, Namjoon thanked you once a week passed and Jimin had returned to some form of normalcy.
Either way, it all began to feel like a dream again once you left, gazing at Seoul through the airplane window, how it shrank smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely. Along with Park Jimin somewhere in it. Dragging your feet into the unmade bed, like the week abroad simply didn't exist, you sighed and numbly looked around. The unnamed feeling that had plagued you for months finally had a name. This was a house, it didn't feel like a home. Home was Jimin's apartment, his stupid kitchen and stupid dishtowels, his stupid gallons of beauty products and his stupid Chelsea boots he'd bought too much of. But you left him in Seoul. It's not like he'll chase you and beg again. Who would even do that? You suspected no one would. Who could possibly love you that much to not only abandon all their principles once but twice?
At a quiet ring of a doorbell, you groaned. Another cat missing?
Dejectedly, you shuffled to the front door, throwing it open and then feeling a stiff weight settle on top of you, enveloping their arms around you like a greedy spider.
You blinked at the ceiling, smelling the all-too-familiar perfume and the gentle, airy voice that came with it.
"Please, take me back."
TAEHYUNG: "Please, take me back."
"I don't care."
The small crowd gasped when he dropped onto his knees, bowing in front of you.
"Have you lost your mind?!" you hissed, trying to drag him up. "Have you no pride left? No sense of shame?!"
It was maybe seconds, seconds until someone recognized him if they haven't done so already.
"No," he replied, muttering at the snow-covered ground. "I have no need for them if only you'll come back."
You didn't know why it was always winter when Taehyung was involved. You met in winter, you broke up in winter, he cried for you to come back in winter and you rejected him during that same winter. A year had passed and once more the ground was dusted with white snow, etching cold breaths into the air. There were no calls anymore, no more texts begging to just talk, to see you one last time. Even the one inquiry about whether or not you wanted your stuff was left on read.
Served him right, the logical part of your brain sneered. He'd hurt you, this was merely a taste of his own medicine. If only this self-righteousness would make you happy.
Walking past his billboards plastered towering and unattainable over the hustle of streets below, you couldn't help but linger, staring at his soft smile, promising the release of his album in a week's time. What a strange date. It was the same one you met it. It was fake, you could tell. His smile that is. When Taehyung smiled for real it inspired others to do the same, not walk past him, uncaring. You wondered where he was...a whole year had passed since he begged you on the knees...
"I'm right here," a deep voice spoke against the shell of your ear and you yelped, turning around. His hand shot out to steady you against the slippery pavement, keeping it around the padded material of your jacket for far longer than necessary. You decided not to remark upon it, selfishly absorbing this scrap. Where was your own dignity?
The little part of his face that you could see was wholly indecipherable, the only feature you could make out through the falling snow and his mask, were the dark of his eyes, staring fixedly at you.
"Hello," you breathed faintly.
You'd forgotten just how warm his voice was.
"Have you been doing well?" he asked, ignoring the mass of people trying to squeeze past you, grumbling in annoyance.
"...yes," you lied. "You?"
"No," he answered honestly, before adding softly. "I miss you."
"I'm not going to lie, ____________," he shrugged. "I've been doing awful since you left. I still love you. What more is there to say?"
Your eyes flitted down at the familiar red around his neck.
"Is that my scarf?" you pointed out and he glanced down at it.
"Yes, it is," he drawled simply. "I found it among your old stuff. I've been wearing it ever since. It's lost your scent now," he sighed ruefully before sobering up. "Is that a creepy thing to say?"
"I -" you stammered. "I don't quite know."
"I saw you're about to release your album," you began, swaying awkwardly on the heels. You know you rejected him but...but couldn't you also want to see him? Let the faceless crowds of judgment ridicule you for your indecisiveness but you had shared a life together with Taehyung, Sering him, just like the first time you met, in the winter, made your heart ache with longing.
"I can send it over for you to listen," he casually suggested. "You might find it interesting."
"Oh," you dragged. "Don't you have strict protocols about that sort of thing?"
"I don't care," he stated. "It's my album, my heart, if I want to give it to you I will. Even if..." he trailed off, finally removing the hand that had been squeezing yours all this time. "Even if you don't want anything to do with it anymore."
When you saw him turn and leave, you floundered, but couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say. Nothing meaningful, nothing...honest. Brutal, bold honesty was always his forte, yours was to pretend.
"I haven't changed my address!" you called out after him. "I still live -"
"I know," Taehyung replied, glancing over his shoulder, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his brown coat. "I remember."
When the postman knocked on your door with the package marked as from THV, it took all your courage to unwrap the blue ribbon, it may have taken it a bottle or two to even put the CD and listen. A card sat attached to the plastic case.
To my only angel, I loved you yesterday, love you today, and will love you tomorrow. Forever Yours, Kim Taehyung. It had dragged a deeply ugly sound from your throat - something between a wrecked sob and snorting laughter. As if you didn't know who he was.
The album itself was deeply melancholic, something one would expect of Taehyung but this was different. How you could not say, it just was. There was almost an anxious feeling about it. It seemed to weave through the various melodies like a thread across different-sized buttons. It wasn't until the last track which ended almost on a note of a piercing scream did you put together the pieces of the puzzle why it all seemed so familiar.
To my angel,
I always believed you were in the far, far sky
Turns out you're the face next to me
And in all that ever was or is meant to be,
I'd give anything to hear your dry, dry sigh
I know what you're going to say
It's been a year, you fool
But if only you gave me a chance you would see
A year, ten, twenty?
Means no difference to me,
My lonely angel.
Here it all was, the life you lived together, the life he lived after parting, all displayed in neatly aligned 12 tracks, meaning nothing to anyone and yet bearing everything to you. Each opaque reference lyricists would brush off as wordplay were snapshots of a mourned past. You had to...You had to find him. With a sudden urgency, you felt your body tremble, seized by this one, unshakeable impulse. You had to find him. To do what exactly? Who knows. But you couldn't sit here this night alone. Jumping on one foot, you got a boot over your foot and a scarf over your neck, yet when you yanked open the doors, there he already stood, hand raised, prepared to knock.
"Hello," you breathed faintly.
"Hello," he greeted and then to your shock, surprise and heartbreak, sunk to his knees, peering up at you, both solemn and terrified out of his mind. "Take me back?
JUNGKOOK: "That guy is staring at me."
"No, he's not. Shut up and eat your food."
Your date pouted unkindly.
"You're mean and bossy," he complained. "I'm not asking you out ever again."
"I'm practically bursting into tears," dryly, you retorted, taking a long drag of the shitty white whine he'd ordered. "Keep smiling, Jack, lest you want that guy to fashion you into a skin suit."
"My name is Jake."
As you met gazes with the shadowy figure sitting and glaring pure hellfire from the corner of the restaurant, you wanted to cry. Laugh? Both? It was hard to say. But either way, Jungkook was a fucking dick who made your life a living hell. It was supposed to end with you victorious, slamming a door into his stupid nose, you were meant to walk away from this whole mess with your head held high, ego unbruised and heart absolutely detached. Or at least that's the promise you made until you saw the intense brown of his eyes, tracking your every move. He was absolutely full of his own shit.
By now you knew what he wanted, what was running through that fantastically mangled piece of meat he called a brain. He wanted to be taken back - into your bed, into your arms, into your home. Like a skinned mole, he'd burrowed his sneaky way into those forbidden places, with his stupid Elmo laugh, his golden heart and his...well, it all had made you a little bit stupid. It all had made your hand shove away all concerns and throw yourself head first into what must have been the most torrent love affair this side of the globe.
You knew every dirty part of his, the flaws he was so deathly afraid of showing, the embarrassment he'd rather first chew his own tongue off instead of revealing; in your hands, he'd bloomed like a beautiful flower and despite his mountain of problems, you still want him.
Wanted him, you amended in your mind, you wanted him, now you don't. Case closed. Pinatas for all.
But if you knew Jungkook down to every sinewy muscle and vein, so did he. He knew from the first meeting of your eyes that you didn't want to be here, you'd dragged yourself out here to be with Jacklyn, kicking and screaming, with the sole goal of fruitlessly showing yourself you could live on after every man had been ruined by this dopey kangaroo.
He knew that just beneath the tongue you were itching to get back with him, to go on those ridiculous dog playdates, to have him bouncing around the room, trying to dance all sexy only for his oversized clothes to remind you too keenly of a flag rather than a human. He knew you wanted to press your face into that chest, drag him down on top of you by his body chain, and be annoyed when he wouldn't fucking stop bumping into you.
But damned if you ever admit that out loud.
Too preoccupied with various musings of intimacy, you failed to see Jungkook grab an apple, draw his hand back like a bow and launch the apple at Jacob's head.
Falling on the floor, your brave date muttered "fuck this" and scrambled off.
All too smoothly, Jungkook took the now free seat.
"Hey, babe," he said, winking. "Missed me?"
Storming off, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself to protect yourself from the harsh wind but fuck all it did and fuck all your legs did against the fresno nightwalker known as Jungkook. It took five maybe six long strides for him to be right up in your face.
"Baby, let's just talk about this."
"I'm so so sorry, I was wrong, you were right; always are. I bow my head in shame."
His expression tightened, lips pursing in annoyance.
"Don't threaten me with a good time."
Another date. Another day. Another time your gaze trailed to Jungkook, waving at you from the bar.
"You're really beautiful," the new date choked out. "T-Though I can't help but feel you're not listening to me at all."
Your gaze darted to sit guiltily upon the tablecloth. Averys was a good guy, he'd been nice, just all right and yet...yet it was not enough. And you knew that. And Jungkook knew that. And it was all so very annoying.
"Listen, Alec, you're cute, I'm just in a...weird situationship."
"My name's Alex."
"Oh," your mouth popped open and against your will you found Jungkook's eyes, staring at you with this longing across the floor. "My bad."
"Does he make you laugh?"Jungkook's arm wrapped possessively around your waist, pushing you into his chest when you tried to escape him after Alex had left, leaving you alone against Jungkook in the middle of the street. "Does he make you cum?"
"You're vulgar!" you snapped.
"So, does he?"
"No, but at least," your lip wobbled and from the sheer shock of seeing your tears, Jungkook's grip loosened. "A-At least he doesn't make me cry."
Scuffing your shoes against the gravel ground, disinterestedly you swayed on the rusty swing, hearing it screech painfully with every movement. Somehow you could relate to that sound. There was no one for you but Jungkook but he was...he also was not an option. Not anymore. Like your relationship it'd been funny at first and then it stopped. It stopped being funny when the time came to be serious, to take responsibility and he just couldn't do that.
Wiping away your tears, you jolted when someone sat beside you. Jungkook, gazing mournfully at the ground, echoed the same pitiful swinging, having no more energy to put behind it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I never did."
"But you still did," you pointed out and he nodded sadly.
"I still did."
"Nothing I ever say will make it enough, right?" he clarified, reaching to gently hold your hand as you swing. "You won't believe it."
"Promises are just words," you sniffled. "Everyone says words. Most don't mean a thing with them."
"But actions speak louder than words, don't they?"
With your hand in his, it felt right but no matter how good it was, it didn't change the fact he disappeared. With a postcard in the mail, he disappeared, leaving nothing but "one day you and I will love again."
And five years passed. Five years - you're a new person, it's an all-new world, everything has changed but your heart fluttering, stumbling drunkenly in your chest remained all the same. When you opened the door Jungkook gasped, face partially hidden behind the flowers. He was changed as well, with hair much longer, tattoos covering his arm, and piercings littered across his face yet his eyes were the same and the way they stared at you brought you all those years back - when you've felt the most wanted in your entire life.
"_______________," he breathed like a prayer. "Can I come in?"
Mutely, you nodded, failing to grasp both your voice and reasons why this was a very, very bad idea. Twirling around, his eyes flitted between your private pieces, the bits of your heart displayed all around the temporary home. Every home had been temporary since him but such a thing should never be spoken aloud.
"What are you doing here?" tiredly, you asked and Jungkook reached to hand you a paper. Squinting at it you read, growing confused, messed up, teary and frightened all at the same time.
"Due to the client's personal wishes, ____________ ____________ is criminally and lawfully free of any non-disclosure agreement made between ___________ _________, the client and Hybe/Bighit Entertainment. ____________ _________ is hereby granted public and private freedom to discuss any and all information about the client. The client has been made aware of all pertaining possibilities of such an act and has consented to have this statement be signed and all of its subsequent consequences."
With the paper shuddering in your hands, you peered at him.
"Actions speak louder than words, right?" Jungkook chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of his neck
"Why would you do such a thing?!" you yelped. " I could...I could destroy you!"
Yet he merely shrugged.
"Why not? I'm already ruined without you," his expression darkened, a frown marring the lovely features. "Five years had passed and not a day hasn't gone by without me thinking of you. You don't know how long I've stared at your pictures with Alex and wished that it was me," he sighed. "How many nights have I cried myself to sleep, praying I could just get five minutes with you."
"Don't say that."
After a moment of silence, you spoke faintly:
"We broke up. Alex and I."
"I know," Jungkook nodded thoughtfully. "I saw you get together and waited."
"What if we hadn't broken up?" you whispered, not noticing that he'd taken a step closer. Those damn eyes of his always entranced you. "What if we got married?"
"I'd still wait for you," he mumbled, glaring at his shoes. "I'd wait for you my whole life. When I left, I realized I needed to grow up. For you. So I did all I could and when you...when you were with him...well, I didn't want to make life hard for you. Didn't dare to make you cry again. I was good," his voice quivered. "I was really good for you, baby. All grown up now. So, please, if you can, take me back. I'll be good, I promise."
© soraviii, 2022
tagging: @introlxv; @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @mwitsmejk; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @personaarmy; @flitzerj; @love-bug121; @bloodline1632; @royallyjjk; @xyahrinx;
The Earth, Your Butt, And Other Big… Flat Things?
Summary: When your world-famous boyfriend reveals himself to be an apparent flat earther, you decide to hold a modern exorcism—as in, you’re gonna try to fuck the stewpid out of him.
Alternate Summary: Busan2022!Yoongi. That shirt. These words should be enough.
Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x F. Reader
Genre: Smut 😃 Crack
Word Count: ~4.7k
Warnings: Listen, this is just one big depraved fook fest and per usual, Reader is on crack. Soft dom!Yoongi. Dirty talk (the word sl*t makes an appearance)! Spit kink! Cum play (kinda, only if you squint)! Explicit sex (no condom!).
A/N: Uh, hi. Blame @jinsquishes for this one, Nixie side-step right left'd into my asks with a "what would be reader's reaction to yoongi's flat earth shirt :)" drabble request and THUS: this depraved shit was born. Idk. Don't even look at me, I'm NOT EVEN HERE.
P.S. This shit is unedited and I refuse to correct that lmfao. If you see typos, NO U DON'T (pls).
P.P.S. In my heart, this is TNF!YN and Meeyooee but also you can just read this as a standalone one-shot. Or don't, I don't care, just as long as ya'll promise to never perceive me.
P.P. P.S. Mango (@blog-name-idk) mentioned a line from Don't Worry Darling in a group server where someone goes: "You stewpid, stewpid man!" And it made me laugh so hard and now I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT so the word "stewpid" might as well be a third genre in this. Thanks Mango lmfao.
The Earth, Your Butt, And Other Big… Flat Things?
Not for the first time, you’re running—as in, literally hauling azz through the streets of Tokyo—late.
“Mush, YN! MUSH!” You spur yourself forward, sprinting pell-mell through a group of innocent tourists. It matters not that you’re morally opposed to dog sled racing, nor that the locals are giving you the stankiest of stank-eyes as you hasten toward the Fukuoka Yahuoku! Dome. All that matters is that it’s March 9th—your boyfriend’s birthday—and you’d promised him you’d be in the stands tonight to watch his special performance.
He hasn’t demanded your attendance, or anything. In fact, Yoongi had made sure to tell you not to worry if your work—which has been unusually hectic lately—held you up. He can’t fool you, though. His cute blush—coupled with the way he’d threaded your fingers together, right in front of the other members—when you’d insisted you’d come last night said it all.
He wanted you there—your sweet, thoughtful boyfriend. You’d be damned if you let his onion ass down.
(“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m going to need you to never compare my ass to an onion again,” he’d said in response to your passionate declaration that very morning.
“But Yoongi,” you’d pouted, insulted. “Your ass really is so good it makes me want to cry!”
Shockingly, he’d remained unmoved.)
As fate would have it, work had held you up. By the time you manage to log off, you have about ten minutes to get to the stadium before Yoongi takes the stage solo. He’s going to surprise tonight’s crowd with his first-ever performance of the new single on his upcoming album. Missing it because of a fucking spreadsheet snafu is not an option.
Luckily, at this stage in your relationship, you’re on first-name terms with everyone in BTS’s cohort, and think nothing of screeching, velociraptor-style, for Sejin when you arrive at the venue, sweaty and flushed. He appears at once, ushering you into your reserved seat just as Yoongi takes the stage.
Looking back, you think the reason it took you so long to realize something was terribly, horribly awry with your boyfriend is because something terribly, horribly unholy overcomes you every time you watch Yoongi perform. If your boyfriend off-stage is a menace, then on-stage, he is devastating.
It’s the way his trademark smirk becomes even smirkier; the way his silver necklaces shine even shinier; the way his long, pale hands get even handsier, in that they constantly grab and cup at his junk, as though to make sure it hasn’t fallen off unannounced—which, so far, it has not. You know, because you’ve taken it upon yourself to confirm as much after his shows. Just to be sure.
So, yeah. You’re so distracted by his overwhelming aura (and the way your core immediately begins throbbing upon seeing his face; upon hearing the deafening screams of the crowd for him) that you miss it… at first.
Yoongi strides across the stage, his eyes skimming over your section of the audience as he introduces his single. Perhaps it’s just a trick of the light, but you swear your eyes lock for a second before he treats the crowd to one of his signature gummy smiles. Fuck. You want to lick his teeth. You want to thread your fingers through that long, raven hair and tug and then run your hands down the smooth planes of his chest and—
Your hornt-up reverie comes to a stuttering halt when your eyes, which had been combing greedily over his face, venture lower, alighting on your boyfriend’s long-sleeved tee shirt.
You blink twice, incredulously, and rub your eyes. They must be deceiving you.
When your vision resolves, however, the message on his shirt remains the same, stark and white against the inky black fabric:
The Earth Is Flat. Didn’t You Know That?
The crowd roars as Yoongi begins rapping, and you feel your heart sink, much in the way the earth never would, due to gravity pulling at it equally from all sides and thus resulting in its signature three-dimensional and ellipsoid appearance!!!!!!!!
Your boyfriend—the man you hope to spend the rest of your life with—is many things. Yoongi is talented. Cool. Grumpy. Thoughtful. Caring. Horny. Reflective. He has bangin’ long hair and a hot, onion ass and—
For fuck’s sake.
He’s a stewpid, flat-earther dickbutt????
There’s nothing more for it: you have to stage an exorcism.
You’ve thought long and hard (read: for two seconds) about it, and this feels like the only logical conclusion. Yoongi is, after all, at his most suggestible ten-seconds after you finish taking him to the bone-zone. Maybe—just maybe—you can fuck the stupid right out of him.
It’s worth a shot.
First, you dim the lights in the hotel suite you’re sharing with Yoongi during the band’s time in Japan. Next, you rifle through your suitcase until you find the lingerie you’d bought last month when you’d been in Paris—it’s white, lacy, and does wonders for your tatas. You’d been intending to wear it tonight anyway, for his birthday.
You’re just tying your trench coat closed when the low whirr of the keycard sounds. Seconds later, Yoongi walks through the door, wasting no time in striding over to you and cupping your waist.
He hasn’t showered yet, and he’s still wearing The Shirt.
“You made it,” he says, smiling down at you. “I saw you in the audience when I—”
You unwrap yourself like a gift, reveling in how your still-sweaty, apparently moronic boyfriend’s gaze turns heated as he silently—shamelessly—looks at your body. His eyes are black as pitch when they flick up to meet yours, and you gulp.
He is so beautiful. And so very, very stewpid.
“Lay down, Yoongi.”
He doesn’t. He sits on the bed like it belongs to him, legs spread, black hair hanging in his face as you let your coat fall to the floor. His tongue toys with the inside of his cheek, his head tilted as he assesses you. To anyone else, Yoongi would probably look bored; like he’s spacing out before sleep. But you know better. You know what it looks like when Yoongi’s determining how best to undo you.
For a long moment, you just look at each other. When Yoongi speaks again, his voice is so deep you have trouble making out the words.
“What are you waiting for, Princess?” he says, tone gravely serious.
You don’t know how to tell him the answer is for him to get a fucking clue. Your eyes flick down to the infuriating message on his shirt, your mind whirring with possibilities. Do you try to suck the stupid out of his dick, or do you straddle him where he sits and rock it loose? He likes it when you do that. Likes to make you look down as slowly, slowly, you spear yourself on his dick; likes to wrap his long fingers around your hips to hold you steady as your pussy flutters, adjusting to the length of him; like to buck into you; likes to make you just sit there, tight and wet and stuffed so full of him as he forces you to take it—
He must see something flicker in your expression, because his next words are dangerously low.
“You’re acting awfully shy, baby,” he says, and the dark chuckle he releases after pulses straight through you. He can be so rude. You wish you didn’t love it. “Don’t you want to come sit in my lap like a good girl and wish me a happy birthday?”
Well, that settles that! You’re gonna reverse-cowgirl the ignorance straight out of Min Yoongi tonight, and get him the best present of all—that of a fucking grip—as he embarks upon his next revolution around the sun. You’re half-way to him when a troubling thought occurs to you.
Because—hold the fooking phone. Why should you have to do all the work, here? That could be dangerous. That could mean trouble! What if the Stupid peeks its head out and recognizes you as the new alpha? What if, heaven forbid, it decides it wants your precious body to host it instead? That’s one of the Universal Laws, right? Like calls to like? If the Stupid shoots out of Yoongi’s cock and into your cunt, you’re doomed. No. No, you can’t be on top tonight. That way madness lies!
You didn’t realize Yoongi had gotten up from the bed until he’s standing right in front of you, gaze sharp, hand reaching out to gently cup your chin. He’s all heat, but you shiver at his touch.
“I can hear you scheming, Princess,” he whispers, thumb skimming slowly across your cheek until it’s pressing at the seam of your lips. Without thinking, you part for him, pliant under his touch as always, and suck lightly at the digit. Who knows? Maybe the Flat Earther within him is hiding in his thumbnail. Or those bony knuckles. Maybe you can kitten lick the nitwit out of his hands until only your boyfriend remains.
Yoongi’s hand freezes as he peers down at you, and suddenly the remaining four fingers gently caressing your jaw tighten.
“What did you just say?” he asks, dark eyes narrowing. You hum around his thumb, blinking up at him owlishly. Fuck. Damn you and your tendency to start babbling the second Yoongi’s close enough for you to breathe in his dark, citrusy scent. You must have spoken your thoughts aloud.
“I can’t hear you, Princess,” he growls, and then he’s pushing his thumb down on your tongue, forcing your jaw to unhinge for him out of reflex.
“Speak up,” he demands, his heavy silver rings cool as they dig against your sensitized skin. Yoongi looms over you, his tone conversational—as though nothing of interest is happening right now—when he next speaks.
“It sounded,” he says, pumping his thumb in and out of your mouth, slicking it up with your saliva, “like you were calling me stupid.”
You can’t help it. You release a little whimper at that, throat bobbing as you take a deep breath, lips curling around his finger. Your heart thrums excitedly in your chest as Yoongi bends lower over you, his lips skimming the shell of your ear.
“Oh, Princess,” Yoongi says. “What am I going to do with you?”
His nose nuzzles into your neck as his other hand comes to press against the small of your back, anchoring you in place. Heat radiates up your spine as his words ghost across your skin.
“You’re such a little brat,” he says, and oh fuck. He’s using The Voice. His goading one; the one that lets you know he’s in charge. The one that promises he knows something that you don’t, and he plans on leveraging that knowledge to ruin you. “Tell me why you’re all dressed up, baby.”
A million thoughts, most of them lies, race through your mind, but Yoongi’s one step ahead of you.
“Tell the truth.”
You sigh. Might as well come clean, then.
“I need to exorcize the bozo out of you,” you mumble around his fingers.
“I want to evict the flat earther from your body by sucking it out of your peen, bruh!” you say, words slightly garbled but the message sufficiently clear. “Okay? I don’t know what’s come over you, but you can’t enter your thirtieth year seriously believing that—”
“What’s come over me?” Yoongi scoffs, drawing back to meet your eye. He looks like he can’t believe his ears. “Yeah, you’re right. I must be possessed by something, because what else could compel me to date someone who doesn’t even know satire when she sees it?”
You fall silent as the weight of his words register.
“Satire,” you affirm sweetly, batting your eyes at your wise, wise boyfriend—which you repeat out loud for him. “Wise, wise, wise,” you croon.
Because now you’re in trouble.
Yoongi hums, stepping even more into your space until your hips press flush together, your chest brushing against his own. You wonder if he can feel the way your nipples tighten at his proximity, straining against the skimpy white fabric of your bra—because you can feel the weight of his erection, hot and heavy, straining against the fabric of his jeans, pressing into your stomach.
“Here’s the thing,” Yoongi drawls, sounding almost bored. Like it’s a chore to fuck into your mouth with his thumb; a chore to have you waiting so sweet and repentant beneath him. “I don’t think you need to fuck the stupid out of me, Princess.”
“N-no?” you breathe.
“Nuh uh.” Yoongi chuckles condescendingly. “I think I need to remind you who’s in charge here.”
“Yoongi,” you plead, heat gathering in your belly at the way he’s looking at you now—pupils blown wide, smooth skin almost glowing in the muted light.
“Is that what you want, Princess?” Yoongi murmurs, and the dark promise of his words shoots bolts of electricity through you. “Want me to fuck some sense into you?”
Your eyes flutter shut, but Yoongi’s not having that.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
You obey, and he’s all you can see.
“Is that what you want?” he repeats, and the utter disinterest in his tone coaxes a whine out of you. It’s all you can do to nod in his cage of fingers; to whisper a breathy, “yes, please.”
“Good girl,” Yoongi says. “Now open up.”
You hadn’t realized you’d closed your mouth around his thumb while he was speaking, and with a jolt you part your lips again, obedient. He tuts at you.
“Wider,” he instructs, and you comply, allowing Yoongi to slip another finger slowly into your mouth, stretching you out.
“There you go,” he says, and you know what’s coming next as he leers over you—as he removes his spit-slick digits to hold your jaw firmly in place, the bite of his rings against your skin making you shiver. “You’re such a brat, you know that? Coming in here thinking you could trick me? Thinking that you were in control?”
You latch onto his shirt—The shirt; the one that got you into this mess—greedily, needing him closer. Needing his punishment.
“Color, baby?” he says softly, then, allowing you to tug him to you. He looks down at you patiently.
“Green,” you say, voice steady.
“Then get ready,” he says—his only words of warning before he’s spitting in your mouth, stern fingers keeping your jaw open for him. You groan, feeling your panties beginning to soak through, positive that if Yoongi looked down, he could see it for himself; see how the silky fabric clings lewdly to your folds with your essence.
“Swallow. Take it all.”
You do, and no sooner have you finished than Yoongi’s lips are on yours, his tongue plunging into your mouth as a rough hand trails down to pinch at your hardened nipple. You keen into his touch, but when your hands travel eagerly down to his belt buckle, he bats you away.
“No,” he says sternly. “You don’t get to touch.”
“Yoongi,” you whine, squirming as his hand free hand comes down to cup your pussy in his palm. He squeezes once, laughing darkly into your mouth at the mess he finds there, before drawing away from you.
“Go lay down on the bed for me, Princess. Knees up, legs spread. I’m not kidding.”
You know he’s not. Yoongi’s had you weak and desperate for him so many times, but nervous butterflies still swarm within you as you pad slowly over to the bed, flushing as you lay down. For a second, you stare up at the ceiling, gathering your courage. Putting yourself so openly on display for him never fails to both excite and terrify you, and he knows that. When you prop yourself up on your elbows to see him, he looks back at you, completely unamused. A new wave of arousal shoots through you as he tilts his head again, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow at you.
“What did I say?”
Gathering a deep breath, you draw your knees up and then let them open slowly on your exhale, until the ruined fabric of your panties glistens out at him, the silk clinging obscenely to your dripping cunt.
“Hmm,” Yoongi hums, and in three strides he’s crouching at the side of the bed, long fingers wrapped around your ankles and head level with your pussy. When you clench around nothing, he smirks. “What are you so worked up for, Princess? Who has you all messy like this?”
The sight of his pretty head between your legs has goosebumps erupting over your skin. Everything feels sensitive, on high alert. You can barely breathe. Why is the blank expression on his face so hot? He might as well be sitting around watching grass grow.
“Answer me,” he drawls.
“You, Yoongi,” you manage.
Yoongi hums again, leaning forward—and then he takes a long, lewd inhale of your cunt, nose mere centimeters away from where you want him. Where you need him. Still, the act is so shocking, your legs begin to close on instinct.
“Nuh uh,” he lectures, strong hands gripping into the flesh of your thighs to pry them back open for him. “In fact, why don’t you use your hands to keep them open yourself. Close them again, and I won’t touch you.”
Christ. You need him to touch you. You actually think you might combust if he doesn’t, and soon. His face remains void of expression as you slide your hands down your thighs, your fingers replacing his own as you keep yourself spread for him.
“Please, Yoongi,” you whine, knowing you should probably be embarrassed by the blatant need in your voice—because he’s right. You’re all worked up, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. But you like it; you like the sense of shame he instills in you for being so needy. Like how you know he’s going to reward you for admitting to it. “Don’t be mean.”
“What’s the matter?” Yoongi says, looking up at you from between your legs. “You’re a big girl, aren’t you? You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do. If you can’t behave—if want to get off so bad—just touch yourself. You know how.”
You pout. You can’t help it. “But I want…”
“What do you want, Princess?” Yoongi taunts, grinning like a wolf. “You want me to do it for you? You need your stupid, flat-earther boyfriend to help get you off?”
The frustrated puff of air you let out transforms into a low moan as Yoongi finally, finally reaches forward to slip a hands under your panties, yanking the offending fabric to the side.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, as though disappointed in you. “You can’t hide from me, filthy girl.”
He taps your leg and you outstretch it obediently, allowing Yoongi to divest you of your panties before he roughly shoves it back into position.
“See how wet it gets when you want me?” he chuckles. Reaching forward, his firm fingers circle once around your clit before dipping down to gather some of your slick. He holds two glistening fingers in front of you for you to see.
“Yes,” you whimper.
“That’s right,” he breathes, bringing his fingers before your lips and waiting. You lean forward to lap at them, keeping eye contact with him as you swirl your tongue around his digits, groaning at the heady taste of yourself.
“That’s it,” he huffs out a dark laugh. “You look so pretty right now, YN.” His fingers press deeper into your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks around them. “You always look so pretty when I’m inside you.”
You know you shouldn’t—you know you’re gonna pay for it—but Yoongi’s deep voice whispering vulgarities to you has always made you insatiable. Keeping your hands on your thighs like he told you to, you buck up, desperate for him to touch you again.
“You’re so fucking needy,” Yoongi snaps, one hand coming down to dig into your hip, pinning you to the bed. He observes you for a minute, eyes roaming over your body—
—And then he lets you go, rising to a standing position, much to your dismay. Perhaps he can see you’re about to protest, because he quells you with a long, hard look, before his pants go to his belt buckle.
“Why don’t you open up a little wider for me baby,” he says, tonguing his cheek as the belt drops to the ground. “Go ahead and do it, okay? Nice and easy.”
You do, trembling; his view of your swollen clit and your arousal dripping down your thighs is utterly unobstructed at this point. Yoongi hisses in a breath—you’re rewarded for your efforts as he strips off The Shirt.
“There you go,” he says, and now his pants are coming off—your eyes home in greedily to the bulge straining the black fabric of his boxer briefs, and you lick your lips when you notice the tiny damp patch. He’s leaking pre-cum for you. “Look at you, spreading yourself so nice for me. You’re such a good little slut.”
Fuck. You want to touch him. To feel him. Your fingers flex on your thighs, and he notices.
He always notices.
“Keep that shit spread,” he says sternly, not even looking at you as you dig your fingers into your legs as hard as you can, desperate to prevent yourself from reaching for him. The last of his clothing goes and then he’s gripping his cock, rock hard, in his hand, giving it a leisurely pump as he considers you.
“Want to feel me?” he asks. You nod furiously.
“Yes, Yoongi. Please, please touch me.”
He takes a step closer to the bed.
“Yeah?” he says, and then he’s slipping his cockhead through your folds, eliciting tiny gasps from you with every pass as it rubs against your clit. “Want me to stuff this cock into your little pussy, Princess?”
You can’t talk anymore, only nod pathetically, helplessly.
Yoongi sighs, but you can see the dark amusement in his eyes as you squirm underneath him, trying to nudge him past the sticky lips of your cunt and into your tight heat.
“Easy, baby,” he admonishes, rubbing a soothing pattern into the underside of your thigh.
“Please, Yoongi,” you plead. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
He looks down at you then—you, exposed, trembling, stewpid with want for him, and he gives you the laziest, gummiest smile. You’d almost buy that he was unaffected, but for the beads of shiny pre-cum glistening at the end of his angry, flushed tip. He gives the base of his cock a firm, practiced squeeze.
“Okay, Princess,” he coos. “You’re doing so good for me. Now let’s see how still you can be when I fuck you, okay?”
Your eyes widen at that and he smiles at your shock as, at last, he lines himself with your entrance. There’s a pause. You inhale, holding your breath as best you can in your lungs.
Yoongi dips down to give you a sweet, tender kiss.
“Watch when I slip into you,” he whispers, and you crane your neck, groaning as he pushes into you with one ruthless thrust, knowing that his eyes are on you—knowing that if you look away even for a second, he’ll make you pay for your disobedience. Your head spins, sparks of pleasure shooting through you as your pussy flutters around him, trying desperately to adjust to his thick length.
“Fuck,” he grits out, pulling out slowly only to fuck back into you, his cock dragging against your inner walls at just the right angle to have you seeing stars. “Been dreaming of doing this all fucking day, Princess. Look at you, laying so still for me. Let’s see how long you can be still for.”
Yoongi’s hands begin to roam, one hand on your hip, keeping you just where he wants you, and the other kneading over your breasts, flicking your sensitive nipples, coasting over to your throat to squeeze gently. He’s kept his necklaces on, the silver chains tinkling with every thrust as he plunges into you, over and over.
“Yoongi,” you mewl, biting your lip to keep from screaming. “I can’t—I want—”
“Green,” you moan, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. He has the audacity to laugh when he notices.
“Shh, Princess,” he coos. “None of that. Just a little longer, okay? Look at you, working so hard to stay still for me. You look so sweet like this.”
He bucks his hips into you then, hissing as you clench around him, a new flood of slickness leaking down your thighs.
“You like that, huh?” he snickers. “Like it when I use you like my pretty little rag doll?”
“Yes, Yoongi,” you moan. “Fuck. Yes.”
“That’s right, Princess. Because this pussy is mine,” he grits out. “It was made for me to fuck it.”
Your thighs begin shaking as the familiar tendrils of your orgasm creep up on you, the pressure building deep in your stomach as curses slip freely from your mouth. A single tear leaks down your cheek as you pant his name. Yoongi curses, brushing it away with a flick of his thumb.
“Nuh uh,” he says suddenly, and then Yoongi’s threading his fingers through yours, pushing your hand behind your head into the mattress. You hadn’t even noticed you’d let go of your thigh to tug him to you. His lips hover above yours, his chest flushed with exertion and hairline dotted with sweat as he grins into your mouth. “Try harder, baby,” he jeers, licking into your mouth. “You want to come, don’t you? This is what you wanted, right?”
“Then take it,” he says. “Take it and stay still.”
Another thrust, and your toes are curling. One more, and your eyes roll back into your head, blood pounding in your ears as your cunt throbs in tune with your racing heart.
“No,” you whisper, and in direct defiance of his orders, you wrap your free hand in Yoongi’s hair, fingers curling around the long, black strands as you tug him down, crushing his lips to yours.
Yoongi goes down willingly with a low whine, losing himself in your kiss—rough, wet, sloppy—as the energy within you grows taut, taut, taut before snapping. You cry out against him as white hot heat flashes through you, locking your legs around his waist to bring him closer, deeper, lodged so thoroughly inside of you that you don’t know where he ends and you begin.
“Fuck, Princess.” His voice is at its lowest, breathiest vibration and he fucks you through your high, hips stuttering as he chases his own.
“In me, in me,” you beg into his mouth, delirious as he circles his hips and pounds into you twice more before he’s giving you what you want, whispering praises to you as he spills into you.
When he pulls out, he wastes no time in cupping your pussy with his large hand, pulling back to look at the mess leaking out of your legs.
“You did so well for me, Princess,” he says lovingly, taking your hand and guiding it down, helping you stroke it back into your swollen, battered cunt. “Now be a good girl and keep as much as you can for me, okay?”
“Okay, Yoongi,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he bends to kiss your forehead sweetly. You’re so satisfied you’re feeling stupid, now—might as well keep as much of Min Yoongi, genius, inside of you as you can take.
tdi; one year · forever to go | jjk (m) – pt. 1
➵ summary; jungkook plans a getaway for your 1-year-anniversary and you couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate.
pairing; dad!jungkook x f. reader
word count; 4,326
content; established relationship au, smut/fluff
warnings; making out, fingering, hand job (for like two seconds), dirty talk, unprotected hot tub sex, cringey flirting
a/n; this is part 1 out of 2 of the anniversary drabble for our beloved tdi couple <3 i hope you enjoy this until i’ve finished the other part! i was too excited to share it so i decided to split it jdjdsk enjoy!!
ps. please don’t be a silent reader! feel free to tell me your thoughts on this drabble, like and reblog, shout in the tags or send me an ask, anything is greatly appreciated! thank you <3
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Mina [3:08 pm]: Hey, I convinced her to go home early. She’s on her way ;) Have fun, kids!
Jungkook lets out a nervous sigh, shaking his head at himself.
There is absolutely no reason to be nervous. It’s just you, his girlfriend of one year. He shouldn’t be nervous when it comes to you at this point. He’s been spending the greater part of his days with you throughout the past year, gotten to know you in all ways possible; your bad habits, your cute habits, your pet peeves, your soft spots and weaknesses, your strengths – everything.
He quickly sends Mina a reply, thanking her for her help ever since he started planning this surprise. He had reached out to her when you and his 1-year-anniversary got closer. He wasn’t sure you’d like what he had in mind so he thought, why not ask your best friend?
Mina had been thrilled by Jungkook’s idea, telling him it was the perfect way to celebrate a whole year of love, gushing about it for hours straight while Jungkook mapped out the itinerary of the surprise to her. Mina’s support and excitement had pushed him to plan it out to a full extent. All he needed from Mina was her help to pack a bag for you and get you home early because he knows that Fridays are the usual ‘working late’ days for you. He never understood why but didn’t ask too many questions. He simply accepted the fact that you enjoy the peace and calm of the office after everyone has left for the weekend.
Jungkook, on the other hand, has finally learned how to leave work early on Fridays – especially after he met you. Before he ‘only’ had Jihoon to get home to every other week but now he has you too. Two people waiting for him, two people waiting for his company, his presence, his attention. And in the end, he’d rather give it to the two of you rather than the stacks of paper at work.
Hopefully you’ll learn it one day too.
While waiting for your arrival, Jungkook dials up Minji. He can’t help but feel like he’s prioritizing you over his son, the feeling heavy in his chest as Minji picks up, the sound of Jihoon’s blabbering in the background.
“Hey, what’s up?” Minji greets him, sounding out of breath.
Jungkook’s eyebrows pull together on his forehead, “you okay?”
Minji chuckles on the other end, “oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just your son making me run to catch a pretty expensive vase before it fell to the floor.”
“Oh,” Jungkook huffs out a short laugh as she mentions Jihoon as Jungkook’s son only, “I hope he won’t cause you too much trouble this weekend. I’m really sorry–”
Jungkook genuinely felt bad when he dropped Jihoon off at Minji’s place last night. Mainly because it was his turn to have Jihoon for the weekend and he hasn’t missed a single weekend since he and Minji got divorced. But also because Minji deserves some time to herself – she is the mother after all. She has carried a way heavier load than Jungkook ever since Jihoon was born and having their shared son every other weekend is the bare minimum he can do for her. But here he is, forcing her to sacrifice her alone-time so he can spend a whole weekend with his girlfriend.
“Oh, please,” Minji scoffs, cutting him off, “you deserve a break, Jungkook. Give yourself some credit, will you? Besides, it’s your 1-year-anniversary! You have to celebrate. In fact, I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.”
The hints of a smile spreads across Jungkook’s lips at her words. The unexpected support from his ex-wife is surprising to say the least but welcomed nevertheless. When he first started dating you, never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined Minji to be happy for him. And as if that isn’t enough, his relationship with you has affected his relationship with Minji too – it’s almost as if there was an invisible fog of tension, guilt, and blame hanging above him and his ex but it has vanished over time ever since you came into his life.
Must be your positive aura.
“Thank you, Minji,” he tells her, expressing his genuine gratitude through the speaker. “For… well, everything, I guess.”
“____ really made you soft, you know?” She teases, causing Jungkook to let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. “But you’re welcome. Now, go pack your bag if you haven’t already. I believe your girlfriend is right around the corner, no?”
Jungkook smirks, “yeah, she is. Thank you again. I’ll let you know when we’re on our way back. Tell Jihoon I said hi.”
With that, he hangs up just as the sound of his front door opening reaches his ears. A rush of excitement runs through his entire body when he hears your voice, calling his name. Less than a minute later, you come into view, eyes wide and filled with concern as you rush towards him.
“Hey, you okay?” You greet him, seeming rather distracted by your concern to reciprocate the short kiss Jungkook places on your lips. “Mina said something about an emergency, so I rushed out of there, probably ran a red light too, I don’t know–”
Jungkook can’t help but laugh at your rambling, eyes taking in your slightly frazzled appearance. It isn’t until his laughter reaches your ears you realize that he’s fine, not a scratch in sight. Jungkook is smirking at you in amusement when realization dawns upon you. You groan softly when he raises a questioning eyebrow at you.
“I’m gonna kill her,” you grumble to yourself, stepping away from your boyfriend to get rid of your coat.
“Don’t,” Jungkook tells you, “it’s my fault. I asked her to lie.”
You stare at him in confusion, “why?”
Before he can answer, you ask him another question; “also, why are there packed bags by the front door?”
Jungkook’s cheeks are hurting from how much he’s been smiling since you stepped into his apartment. However, it seems the happiness will stay visible on his face for the rest of the weekend.
“Because we’re going on a trip,” he announces, stepping closer to you. Curiosity fills your eyes as his arms slide around your waist to pull you against him. “You know what this weekend is.”
You giggle softly as his face inches closer to yours, “do I?”
Jungkook hums and nods, nose bumping against yours as his breath brushes your lips.
“I’m not sure,” you grimace, a playful glint in your eyes. God, he loves it when your eyes give you away. “Care to remind me?”
Jungkook closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a lasting kiss, one that makes his heart grow in size when your arms snake around his neck to keep him in place. A soft sigh leaves the both of you as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss, tongue brushing your bottom lip. You allow him inside, a delicate moan tumbling into his mouth as your tongues meet. He kisses you passionately, hand coming up to cup your face, calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
You’re left slightly breathless when he pulls away, leaving a few soft pecks against your now slightly swollen lips, a smirk on his face; “I believe it’s been one year of doing that.”
A surprised gasp escapes your lips when Jungkook turns onto the road leading up to the destination. Jungkook’s lawyer and friend, Namjoon, owns a beach house a few hours from the city. It’s a pale blue wooden beach house, lifted up on a hill with a view of the ocean. The details, windows and fence around the veranda is painted white, some of the paint slightly chipped due to the cold weather. Namjoon doesn’t usually use it during fall and winter and was happy to lend it to Jungkook when he had asked one day while eating lunch together.
“Jungkook, this is amazing,” you’re gaping at the beach house, eyes wide as you take in the scene in front of you. The afternoon fall sun is setting into the ocean, creating a faded and cold blue sky mixed with hints of orange. Jungkook smiles to himself as he parks the car and unbuckles himself to get out of the car. A moment later he’s opening the passenger door for you. You unbuckle yourself and take Jungkook’s hand, stepping out of his car, eyes still locked on the house.
It seems it’s safe to say this surprise is already a success.
“Here,” Jungkook catches your attention, handing you a key. He nods towards the beach house with a small smirk, silently telling you to go inside while he gets the bags from the trunk. You quickly peck his lips, barely giving him any time to register the small action before you excitedly run up the steps leading to the front porch of the beach house. Jungkook watches with an amused grin on his face, chuckling to himself.
“This place is insane,” you boast when Jungkook joins you inside. “How did you manage to find it?”
“A friend of mine owns it. I asked if I could borrow it for the weekend.”
Jungkook places the bags down by the front door, looking around the beach house belonging to his friend. Namjoon’s wife definitely has a sense for decorating – the expensive furniture and plants blend in nicely with the rest of the vibe of the beach house. Spending summer here must be a dream – the thought of lounging around in the hammock on the open veranda while watching the ocean waves reach the shore causes a warm feeling to flow through Jungkook’s body.
The feeling of your body pressing against his brings him back from daydreaming. You’re smiling up at him, gratitude evident in your eyes as they meet his own. Jungkook feels his heart skip a beat at the sight.
“You didn’t have to arrange all of this,” you tell him softly, “I would’ve been more than satisfied spending a whole day being a couch potato.”
Jungkook laughs softly at that, wrapping his arms around you to hug you to his chest.
“You deserve a break from the city,” he tells you, lips brushing your forehead. “Besides, I want you all to myself for the weekend. No distractions, no interruptions – just you and me. Is that okay?”
You nod instantly, leaning on your tippy toes to reach his lips, giving him a soft kiss, “it’s more than okay.”
Jungkook smiles against your lips, kissing you again. He just can’t help it – not when he has all the time in the world for the weekend and no one around to stop him. He knows when you go back on Sunday, this blissful fantasy world will be over with and responsibilities will be back to demand his attention.
This weekend, nothing will hold him back from doing what he wants. And right now, he wants you to join him in the hot tub on the veranda.
“I hope Mina packed a bikini for you,” Jungkook says as he steps away from you to grab the bags, bringing them with him to the bedroom. You furrow your eyebrows as you follow behind. He dumps the bags on top of the bed, flashing you a soft smirk.
“I’m not going swimming when it’s barely 10 degrees outside, Kook,” you pointedly tell him, looking rather nervous to say the least. You eye him skeptically, silently asking him if that is what he has in mind. Although it would be fun to see you try and get into the freezing ocean for a quick dip, that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.
“Don’t worry,” he laughs, “we’re just going in the hot tub.”
“Oh, thank god–” relief washes over your face, shoulders falling from their tense state, “there’s a hot tub?”
Jungkook hums and unzips his bag. He pulls out a pair of black swimming trunks and is about to leave the bedroom. Before leaving the room, he stops in front of you to grab your face in one hand and connects his lips with yours in a soft, rather quick kiss.
“Meet me out there in five,” he tells you, voice low and breathy. He gives you another kiss before he disappears into the bathroom across the hallway.
A small, excited squeal leaves your lips as you scurry over to your bag, looking through it to find the bikini Mina hopefully packed for you. Once you find it, your face twists into a scowl. You hold up the white two-piece set, staring at it. You should’ve known she would pack the skimpiest one you have. You haven’t worn this bikini for years due to the very little fabric of it. It’s not the most appropriate bikini to wear when going to the beach where there are families and elder people. It’s great, however, for a girl’s trip to an island where most tourists are adults without children.
Hell, Mina was the one who convinced you to buy this exact bikini and she knows you never use it for the exact reason stated above.
A realization hits you suddenly, causing you to rummage through your bag once more. You let out a soft whine of frustration as you realize that your best friend has packed not just one but three sets of sexy lingerie that you still have yet to use since they’re all rather new in your wardrobe. You pull a black set out of your bag, fingers brushing over the lace details of it as you look at it for a solid minute. The more you look at it and picture yourself in it, the more you realize that packing these sets probably wasn't the worst thing she could’ve done. With a small smirk, you stuff the black lingerie back into your bag for later before grabbing the bikini and slipping into the ensuite bathroom.
Five minutes later you’re stepping onto the patio, wearing a robe due to the cold weather. The sky is quickly turning darker, the patio is lit up by lamps and Jungkook even managed to light up some floor lanterns while you were changing. Awe is evident on your face as you step closer to the hot tub, smiling at your boyfriend as he sits inside of it, bubbling water surrounding him.
“Looks nice,” you tell him, the hints of a smirk on your lips. “Got room for one more?”
He grins at you, motioning for you to get in. He watches you undo the robe, noticing the way your skin becomes covered by goosebumps as a breeze of cold fall wind hits your body. You shudder, completely oblivious to the way Jungkook’s eyes roam your body from head to toe and back up again – he hasn’t seen you in this bikini before. It barely covers you up but he can’t bring himself to care, too focused on the way your nipples harden underneath the white fabric.
“Why does it have to be so c-cold?” You mutter as you take the hand he’s offering you as you begin to enter the hot tub.
Once inside the hot tub, you seat yourself in the warm water, a blissful sigh leaving you as heat engulfs your entire body. Jungkook tugs you closer, hating how much distance there is between you. You smile when you feel him tug at your hand, willingly scooting closer to him but it’s not enough. He wants you closer.
“Kook,” you softly mutter when he brings you onto his lap, a leg on either side of him, your face just a few inches away from his. He hums, eyes shifting between your eyes and your lips as his hands slide from your thighs and around to your ass. “There’s lots of room in here, you know?”
He nods, “yeah, what about it?”
You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound causing Jungkook’s heart to skip a beat in his chest. He smiles, watching you as he moves his hands up the expanse of your back, fingertips reaching the tied strings of your bikini top. You eye him with a warning look as he starts playing with the strings. You raise one eyebrow when he pulls one of them, undoing the knot.
“Oops,” he smirks softly, his breath brushing your lips.
“I don’t think your friend will appreciate having naked people in his hot tub,” you whisper.
Jungkook can feel you leaning in closer as if there’s a magnet pulling you in. Your hands are sliding up the expanse of his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake as your lips softly brush his. The fabric of his swimming trunks are starting to get tighter the more the want for one another grows. He’s convinced you can feel how hard he is despite the fact that you show no signs of it.
“What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”
Jungkook’s mouth clashes against yours, a gasping moan leaving you as he pulls you closer, chest against chest. His tongue slips past your lips, wet and warm against yours, hungry and desperate. Your nails dig into the skin of his chest as you grind down on him, his bulge growing harder by the second.
His fingertips undo the other knot of strings in your neck, allowing your bikini top to fall. Jungkook grabs the white fabric and throws it onto the patio floor, lips never once leaving yours as his hand returns to your chest, cupping a breast and squeezing it. He earns a whiny moan from you, a sound he knows as pleading.
“Always so responsive,” he rasps as he pulls away, lips trailing kisses onto your jawline and neck. You tilt your head, allowing him more space to shower you in kisses. You bite into your bottom lip as you feel his fingers pinch your nipple, his other hand gripping your thigh tightly.
“Kook…” You whimper, mouth searching for his.
“So beautiful and needy just for me,” he whispers before connecting his lips to yours again.
“Please-” You plead between kisses, hips grinding down, core pushing against his hardened cock. “Want you…”
Jungkook swears under his breath, hands falling to grip your hips tightly under the water. He helps you grind against him, the water forcing you to move slowly rather than quickly. Your arms slide around his neck, a surprised gasp tumbling from your mouth and into Jungkook’s as he pulls your bikini bottoms to the side, fingers finding your heat. He strokes your slit, thumb moving in circles on your clit. You whimper against his lips when he sinks a finger inside, curling it deliciously against your g-spot.
“Fuck,” you swear under your breath, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Jungkook leaves kisses against your shoulder and neck as he adds another finger, pumping them in and out of your warmth. “Feels good, Kook… don’t stop-”
“Don’t worry, baby,” he smiles against the skin of your shoulder, “you’ll be begging me to stop by the end of this weekend.”
“Oh, god,” you whine, his words causing your walls to tighten around his fingers.
Jungkook smirks to himself as he picks up the pace of his hand, working you closer to your first orgasm of this getaway. His smirk falters when you start grinding down on his hand, desperate and needy for his fingers, eager to finish. His jaw falls open as he watches you as you sit back, hands tightly gripping onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. The sight alone has Jungkook’s cock twitching in his trunks, the fabric tighter than ever before. As much as he wants to see you lose yourself on his fingers, he can’t hold it any longer. He needs to be inside of you, buried deeply between your warm walls.
“Fuck, baby, hold on-” his voice is raspy as he removes his fingers from you, the empty feeling causing you to whine in frustration. You watch him with hooded eyes, lips parted as heavy ragged breaths escape. His arm slides around your waist to lift you up just a bit, allowing him space to push his trunks down. His cock stands tall and hard with a red, angry tip under the water, twitching as it waits to be engulfed by your pussy.
When Jungkook looks up at you, his breath hitches in his throat – the sight of your hair in a messy bun, swollen lips, and hooded eyes – all of it mixed together and creating the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. His face softens for a short moment, his feelings worn on the outside of his body as he stares at you. He can’t help himself as he reaches up with his free hand, grabbing you by the nape of your neck to pull you in for a kiss; a deep, heart-achingly needy kiss.
“Ride me,” the words are breathy against your lips as he leaves another kiss on them, his arm tightening around your waist. You moan against his mouth, hands cupping his face in case he even thinks about pulling away. “Please, ____” he pleads.
One of your hands disappears under the water, a hiss leaving Jungkook's lips as he feels it wrap around his length, pumping him up and down before you lift yourself up, guiding his tip closer to your entrance. He’s panting beneath you, chest rising and falling in anticipation as he waits to be engulfed by your warmth.
“Fuck–” you both swear and moan in unison as you sink down on him, walls swallowing and sucking him in deeply. Your hands are tightly gripping onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
“Oh my god,” you whimper as you feel his cock fill you to the brim. Jungkook’s breath brushes your forehead, his lips leaving kisses as you let your head rest against them, eyes closing for a moment as you stay still in his lap, trying to get used to his length.
It’s different in water but in the best way possible.
“You gotta move, baby,” he breathlessly tells you, his hands sliding up your thighs to your hips. You nod, lifting your head to peck his lips softly. He smiles at you, eyes meeting yours as you look at him. “If you don’t, I’ll come within the next minute.”
“I know,” you squeak, sliding your arms around his neck to get closer to him. “Just needed a second.”
Jungkook groans quietly under his breath as you start moving, hips grinding down on him in slow rhythm. He guides your hips, helping you pick up speed, the pace growing faster, more eager.
“Fuck, baby, that’s it–“
You’re letting whimpering moans fall from your parted lips as you work your hips on his cock, grinding and riding him until you’re spent, breathing heavily trying to catch your breath in between moans and whines of Jungkook’s name. The sounds you make are like sweet music to his ears, like angels from above and yet so sinful it would earn both of you a spot in hell.
“I’m c-close,” you cry as one of Jungkook’s hands come up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. You whimper against his lips, speaking between kisses. “Wanna come, Kook.. please make me come.”
The way you plead him to help you reach your high has Jungkook swearing underneath his breath, his other hand letting go of your hip to reach for your clit, thumb pressing down on the bundle of nerves causing you to gasp against his mouth.
“Oh god- Jungkook!”
His name leaves you in a high pitched moan as your orgasm washes over you in an instant, body tensing in his lap as it rushes through you, reaching your toes and fingertips. Jungkook groans as he feels your walls tighten around him, the sensation enough to make Jungkook orgasm too.
With a low guttural moan of your name, his thighs tense underneath you, hands back to gripping onto your hips tightly as his orgasm overtakes his body, his cock spurting out hot white cum inside of you, painting your walls with it.
Jungkook’s head lulls back to rest on the headrest of the hot tub, his chest heaving in heavy breaths, air leaving his mouth and turning into frosty fog in the cold winter air. Your forehead lands on his collarbone as your breathing slowly returns to normal.
“I can see the stars from here,” Jungkook quietly says after a beat of silence. You lift your head to look at him, watching as a smile spreads across his face. It’s contagious as it causes a smile to spread on your face too as you watch his big brown eyes looking up at the evening sky above. You lean in and softly kiss his jaw, causing him to focus his gaze back on you. “Or did I just have the best orgasm of my life and began seeing stars after?”
You can’t help but let out a laugh.
Jungkook grins widely as you look up, trying to decipher whether it’s all in his head or if he can actually see the stars. You spot the stars, bright and beautiful on the dark, almost black sky.
The sight is beautiful and rare to you – when you live in the city, you never see the stars unless you go to a rooftop of some skyscraper.
“You’re looking at the actual real stars,” you tell him with a fond smile as you return your gaze to him. He smiles warmly at you, his eyes glinting with his own personal stars as he looks at you, stares at you.
“I’m looking at the brightest star right now,” he then says.
You can’t help but roll your eyes as you feel your cheeks heat up, “what a flirt.”
“Only for you, baby.”
In Motion (M) | 11
➬ Summary | The rule is simple; you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times since you’ve encountered the voyeurism club, but it was only when a certain boy arrives on one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside.
➬ Pairings | Jungkook x reader (with POV switches)
➬ Genre | Masturbation Club!au, Sex Club!au, mature, smut
➬ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; includes explicit mature/sexual scene, public nudity, public sex, public display of sexual exploitation, dom/sub act/relationship, sexual tension, mutual masturbation, fingering (female receiving), usage of sex toys, public display of bondage, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mentions of alcohol consumption (minor), hand job (solo), female x female action, hair pulling, breast play, clamps (nipple clamp, clitoris clamp), pain kink, clit play, nipple play, dry humping, clothed fingering, dirty talk, ear biting, neck kissing, edging, orgasm denial, orgasm delay, sexual stimulation, sensory play, cum play, cum eating, aftercare
➬ Word count | 13,5k words
➬ Chapter List/Index | Music Playlist | ⤎ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ⇢
➬ Main Masterlist
➬ Author’s note | And we’re back, after a thousand years of absence. Forgive me for taking so long to get back into this series. My muse has been silent, and I had to wait until he returns to me to be able to finish this story. We’re finally at the final chapters, so I really hope that I can make the long wait worthwhile. Please note that this chapter is roughly edited, but I might return to it once I’m done with the entire series. Thank you for your patience. Enjoy!
𝕮𝖑𝖚𝖇 𝕷𝖆 𝕽𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖊
“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐋𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞.”
Please follow the rules specified below:
1. You must confirm the RSVP and send it back within 3 days prior to the arranged date. Please remember that any late submissions will not be accepted.
2. Once your RSVP is received and acknowledged, the Club’s Representative will send you the address of the pick-up point before we will escort you to the designated place where the main event is to be held.
3. Upon arrival, the attending party will return the form sent together with the RSVP invitation and will be required to undergo further identification check before being permitted to enter the main event. The preference checklist will contribute further in order to determine any security measures for individuals attending the event.
4. The event will be a non-formal all-black attire. To further maintain anonymity, it is highly advised for the attending party to make use of the mask sent along with the invitation. Each attendee will receive specially made masks as part of identification needed for the Club’s security check.
5. Any form of open conversation are forbidden once the attendee party have arrived within the main lounge. Any mutual arrangements—including partner appointments and group arrangements—may only occur upon re-registration and only in the specially provided rooms. Attendees are welcome to observe any ongoing public sessions but are not allowed to interfere. Physical contact will only be permitted between partners or special arrangements under the staff’s approval. Any violation of the rules will result in members being escorted out and your name will be added to our blacklist.
6. Any other mutual arrangements that may occur after the event will no longer be our concern.
The La Rouge mansion continues to thrive as the night carries on.
A seductive tune continues to play from every corner of the room. The smooth melody keeps flowing across the main ballroom like an alluring enchantment, guiding you through the motion. It doesn’t sound loud enough to match a scene from a nightclub and barely enough to drown the conspicuous sounds being created in the room, but it is still enough to help set up the entire pace and the mood of the event.
The low bass thump of the music vibrates through the space around you, somehow matching the slow thrums of your heartbeat that are coming from the mixture of anticipation and excitement. It also reminds you of the way your heartbeat would thrum rapidly every time you are with Jungkook, and how it would even grow more intense when he touches you.
Just like the way it is happening now, when you can feel the light touch of Jungkook’s fingers on the small of your back as he guides you through the room, moving slowly past the floor where the shared acts of debauchery are happening in full display. Everywhere you look, it almost seems like everyone in the room is moving in tune. Their motions flow together in a similar sultry rhythm. The sounds of soft moans and delighted groans are blending together with the slow beat of the music, making it seem like everyone is coming together as one.
The room doesn’t seem to be fully packed with guests, but it is still quite obvious that more attendees have been coming in while you and Jungkook were having an insightful conversation with Taehyung back at the drinking lounge.
The entire place has certainly come alive as everyone has started to let loose, succumbing to every need and every true desire. The masks they all wear might able to hide their faces, but they have all unmasked themselves to reveal the darkest part of their inner being and let everything out in the open for everyone to see. It is plain to see that all inhibitions are lost. Not a single stage in sight is left unoccupied. Even the ones that you had seen vacant from any performer or void of spectators before have now become the ones that are gathering more attention, with masked members indulging in various risqué acts while taking their places in the spotlight.
You may have had a preview before when you first arrived in this ballroom, to have glimpses of what was happening on those stages, but only now do you finally take the chance to get a closer look, finally paying attention to the scenes occurring around you and all the contraptions that are available for the attendees to use in their acts.
There is an eccentric-looking cross on one stage, while some others are fitted with wooden or leather-covered benches as their centerpieces. On others, there are some fancy-looking loveseats with soft cushions and high-back seats, and there are even a couple of stages with small beds to use under the applied rules. A few smaller stages have either various ropes dangling from above or metal poles standing as their centerpieces, with a couple of dancers utilising the latter to give special entertainment to the spectators who are not there to play or those who want something different to enjoy.
Your eyes find the stage with the throne that had caught your attention earlier. It seems that a different woman is using it now while the luscious woman that you saw previously is no longer in sight. Judging from the golden mask that this woman is wearing and the fancy rose embroideries embellished on either side of her mask, you can safely assume that she is another official member of the club and not just an invited guest for tonight’s special event. Your eyes drift down, noticing that her bare breasts are fully on display with the top of her dress lowered down to rest right beneath them. The way they are propped perfectly over the crumpled fabric of her dress makes them rock and shake as she moves her hips over the seat of the armchair. Moving your gaze lower to watch her act more closely, your breath nearly halts at what you are seeing.
With her legs spread open and the hem of her silky dress hiked up all the way up her hips, you have a clear view of her bare pussy, and how her slick folds are parted as she continues fucking a replica of a phallus, just like what the other woman that you had seen earlier was doing on that very same stage.
To your relief and astonishment, you soon notice that the phallus that was once attached onto the seat has been replaced with a new one. The fake cock impaling her now is glaring red and seems even bigger compared to the one that was used earlier, which makes it even more visible as the masked woman moves her body up and down, allowing the fake cock to slide in and out of her pussy, its length glistens under the dim light with her arousal. Her entire body rocks each time she takes the whole length inside her, and you can almost hear the sounds coming out of her parted lips when waves and waves of pleasure take over her.
This time, she is not the only one occupying the stage, as a man is seen standing right beside the armchair, facing her. Your eyes grow wide once you notice that he is wearing a matching mask to the woman, a golden mask with intricate detail of a pair of roses embroidered on each of its sides, signifying that they are here together as partners—much like you and Jungkook are.
As the woman becomes so lost in her desire, the man is there to support her. You may not be able to see his face, with his mask perfectly shielding his identity and only leaving his mousy hair exposed, yet you can see the rest of him as he barely covers everything else about himself that most definitely has caught the attention of numerous other women around you. Wearing only a pair of tight leather pants that are now barely hanging around his hips, he has left his bare chest and back exposed, while the muscles on his strong arms keep flexing and straining as he uses one hand to stroke his fat cock in a pace that matches his partner’s rocking hips, while he has a tight grip of her hair in his other hand, forcing her to keep her head held up high and her eyes looking hazily forward, facing their audience without shame as she submits to her pleasure.
Being completely entranced at the sight before you, you barely notice Jungkook’s presence until he presses his fingers harder into the small of your back, reminding you of your own partner. He slows down beside you once he notices what exactly has you so fixated that you are beginning to halt in your steps, and you can feel the tips of his fingers moving up and down at a gentle pace on your waist, a silent way that he does to grab your attention. Looking away from the scene, you find Jungkook’s eyes growing dark and intense, his gaze emits hunger that seems to intensify just by looking at your face. Whatever he is seeing from your reaction to the scene seems to be awakening something inside him. It encourages him to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close, pressing you against his side and enveloping you with his heat in a possessive way that has your heartbeat racing and your body heat escalating rapidly.
Out here in the main ballroom and merely a few feet away from the open drinking lounge, neither of you is allowed to converse publicly, even with each other. Yet you find that there are really no words needed for you to know what is going inside his head, just as much as he seems to know what is happening inside yours. You can feel it in his touch, and you can see it in his gaze. His eyes simply glow darkly from beneath his mask as he keeps looking down at your face. With a smile and a tilt of his head, he urges you to look back at the stage, and you turn just in time to catch it just as the scene reaches its peak.
Succumbing to her climax, the masked woman wails in pleasure. Her entire body seems to rock violently as she pushes down one last time, taking the entire length of the phallus inside her which pushes her straight to the edge. With her release, the man also comes to his end. Ropes of white cum erupt from his massive-sized cock, falling all over his partner’s breasts, face, and even hair.
On this floor, and on those stages, only limited body contacts are allowed during the event, unless special arrangements have been set in place between the members or partners involved. The same goes for the private rooms, according to the rules stated in your invitation, though there will be different rules applied for the exclusive members with access to those rooms, which fills you with more excitement, curious to see what other sexual exploit that the club has to offer.
Still, even without watching the pair performing any public sexual intercourse, the sight of them embracing their desire and release at the same time is already enough to get your body burning with clear desire, that you almost have to cling onto Jungkook as you watch the rest of their interaction on stage. Then, something seems to coil inside your stomach, a new feeling of warmth that mixes in with your desire when you watch the way the pair of lovers are looking at each other in the aftermath of their lewd act. Their gazes seem to share a deep secret while they pay no attention to the crowd around them. There is something else in their eyes as they exchange looks, something deeper and yet tender at the same time, and it seems to escalate as the man releases his tight grip on her hair and starts caressing her gently, as he wordlessly soothes his lover from her blissful high.
For a moment, you had thought that the connection they are displaying would put an end to their act, until you see the woman lifting her trembling fingers from the chair’s armrests and starts running them across her body, picking up the mess from her skin with the tip of her fingers before licking them all clean, never once looking away from her lover. It feels so intimate, so intense, and you can tell that her sly act is once again affecting her partner whose chest continues to rise and fall. Watching this, you begin to want the same, to experience the same connection with the man who is slowly pulling you back to him with his gentle, yet tantalising touch on the curve of your waist.
Without a word, Jungkook gently pulls you away from the scene. It takes some effort for you to get out of the fog that you have found yourself drowning in that you simply start clinging onto him further as he begins to guide you both to move across the room, to take the chance to enjoy other lewd scenes that are transpiring. Your mind is still hazy with the need to find relief as you walk past a couple of more stages, all filled with masked guests showing lewd scenes of sharing their desires and chasing their orgasms, either doing it solo or with partners, some even in small groups. But everything seems like a blur when your mind is still rallying from the last act that you had just witnessed.
Knowing this, Jungkook takes you by the hand to lead you away from the main ballroom and deeper into the mansion. The music continues to follow you as he guides you towards the hallway appearing on the other end of the room, though the resounding expressions of pleasure slowly fade with the more distance you put between you and the open stages, allowing you to take a deep breath and find a sense of calmness.
Unlike the other hallways that you have come across earlier, the room you are walking into appears more spacey, though it does take quite a while for you to reach the end where Jungkook pulls you to a stop. The path doesn’t seem to end there, however, as the long tunnel splits into two different directions from here. Just when you are wondering where to go, your eyes fall on a golden plaque which is placed on the wall in front of you.
Jungkook takes you to move and take a look closer at it. You can see clearly now that the plaque is made up of two arrows pointing at opposite sides of each other. Seeing the markings on each arrow, you can tell that the plaque is supposed to act as a signage to inform you where to go. The arrow pointing to your right is marked with an intricate drawing of a pair of eyes, with one of them wide open and the other drawn to appear closed shut as if to wink at its spectator. According to the information that you found in the invitation, this specific sign had meant to represent the act of voyeurism, one of the major themes for tonight’s event. The other arrow pointing to the left hallway is marked with an intricate drawing of a female hand, its delicate fingers are drawn as if to summon someone closer, the sign which represents the mutual masturbation theme that the event is holding, the other section of the club in which you and Jungkook had been a part of.
A gasp slips out of you when you feel Jungkook’s thumb moving in circles at the small of your back, and you turn to catch him looking down on you, his eyes filled with question. Once again, he is giving you the control to make the decision, for you to make the choice that will set the course of the night for the two of you. Giving him a smile, you recall telling him earlier that you had wanted to experience everything tonight. So just as he tilts his head, questioning you silently about what you want to do next, you gently pull his hand with you and turn your gaze to your right, indirectly pointing towards where you want to go.
A soft chuckle is heard from him. There is no doubt that your choice has amused him, even if he doesn’t seem too surprised by it. With his gentle hold on your hand, Jungkook guides you with him towards the right hallway, ready to join you in the new adventure that you are about to embark on.
The trip through the smaller hallway doesn’t take as long as the one that had led you here from the main ballroom. Deep down, you know that you have gone far deep into the mansion, making you wonder just how many other hallways such as this one that you can find inside this building, how many different rooms that they could lead you to, and how many other secrets that you may unfold if you ever have the chance to venture through each one.
After the short walk that is quiet yet filled with deep anticipation, you are met with a smaller version of the receptionist desk that you saw when you first arrived, placed a few feet away from the end of the hallway. Right on the wall behind it, you can see a pair of glass doors standing tall from the floor to the high ceiling above. Both doors appear to have the same intricate design on them as the one you saw downstairs in the main lobby. The doors are slightly smaller, but seeing them makes you think of them as the twin gateways opening to another realm, knowing that there would be a completely different setting waiting for you on the other side.
Standing behind the small counter is a male usher attending the section all by himself. Just like the other staff members that you have met, the man is wearing a mask covering half of his face. But unlike the others who had dressed formally for the event, the man only has his uniform vest covering his bare chest, without a sight of the buttoned-up shirt that the other ushers and attendants have been seen using.
The masked usher immediately looks up just as you and Jungkook walk closer, showing you his smile as he welcomes your arrival. “Good evening,” he greets you with a gentle voice, though it does sound a bit startling to hear him speak after having been silent for quite a while. “May I have a look at your invitation cards?”
Jungkook throws a quick glance at you before pulling out the invitation cards from the inner pockets of his suit. He says nothing as he hands the cards to the usher, who immediately runs them on the device he has on the counter. He finishes not too long after with a smile on his face and hands the cards back to Jungkook. He then proceeds in giving you both the instructions needed for this section.
“You have been confirmed to have access to the rooms of your choice anywhere within the mansion while the event is ongoing. This area will lead you to the Viewing Room. You can find the information about the room and all the detailed instructions that you are required to follow once you reach the doors behind me. Take your time to study the written rules that we have provided for you before going further. You are free to choose whichever room you are interested to visit and enjoy. As you continue, please remember to not interrupt the ongoing sessions.”
Not knowing if you are allowed to speak in return, you simply smile and nod at him to let him know that you understand his instructions. The usher proceeds with his duty, as he starts pressing a few buttons on his device which seems to unlock the doors behind him before he gestures for you to move along.
You follow Jungkook’s lead to walk closer towards the fancy doors. His gentle grip on your hand becomes the anchor that allows you to continue walking despite feeling as if you are floating above the ground, still stuck in the somewhat dreamy state that you have been in after experiencing the soiree in the ballroom. Once you are close enough, you find another golden plaque placed between the twin doors with texts inscribed on its surface, and you realise that this must be what the usher had meant about the rules that you would need to learn before entering.
Right at the top of the plaque is the name of the rooms that you are about to enter.
The Viewing Room.
The information written right beneath the cursive writing nearly trips your already heightened sense. Your imagination begins to run wild as your mind is suddenly open to all the possibilities that may happen beyond these walls.
Behind these doors are the private rooms which have been specifically set for this section, just like perhaps many others located in different corners of the mansion that you have yet to find which may also have different functions. Just as stated by the usher and the booklet that was sent to you by the club, only guests with special privileges may have access to them, something that both you and Jungkook had gained from the invitations you received from Jungkook’s sponsor.
Each of these doors is going to lead you to different sides of the room, each one with different purposes, yet it is mentioned that both rooms will still be connected directly to each other to serve their purpose. Looking over to the doors, you finally notice the different ornament designs that appear on the stained glass art, seemingly used to differentiate each room.
The door to your left is marked with a drawing of an opened eye, looking out from the top center of the glass door. The instruction tells you that this door would lead you to the room which would allow the attendees to watch an ongoing scene.
The door to your right is marked with a drawing of a closed eyelid, a complete opposite of the other one. This door is said to lead you towards the room that has been provided for the attendees to have their private sessions. Except that they wouldn’t be as private as what they may seem, as their actions would be available for the other attendees in the opposite room to watch and enjoy, though the players may not be able to look the other way towards the audience unless they are allowing it upon entering the room.
Before you can even start pondering about your options, Jungkook leans in, and you feel his warm breath falling on the nape of your neck when he slyly whispers, “To watch, or to act? Your choice.”
His question gives you some kind of reassurance. The fact that he always respects your decisions and he continues to consider your choices, putting your comfort and interest first in something that you are sharing and enjoying together has meant a lot to you. Though having his support still doesn’t necessarily mean that it would make it easy for you to make the decision.
Voyeurism, you wonder to yourself as your heartbeat starts to pick up, feeling as if you are dreaming. It had already intrigued you the first time you heard about this ‘sexual forte’ becoming a part of tonight’s event, though you hadn’t thought of actually getting involved in it when you first decided to come tonight. Not until earlier when the option was being laid out in front of you to take.
You may have had experiences in performing for others before, back when you allowed other club members to watch you pleasure yourself during the masturbation club sessions the couple of times you were there. But you have always been able to see your audience, to share the same space and get involved in it together, and you had always been able to see their reaction while you were indulging in the act filled with carnal desire.
Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to see the other side while exposing yourself is undoubtedly the part that intrigues you the most, but it is also the part of this theme which scares you the most. You wonder if you are ready for that kind of thrill, should you choose to perform with Jungkook. The pulses of desire that you have been feeling are still present, even if it is slowly starting to subside in the moment of clarity, but you aren’t quite sure that finding relief with a lot of strangers or an entire room of intrigued audience deliberately watching you would be the right choice.
The decision to make isn’t one that you can take lightly. This is your first night of joining these events, after all, and this would be the first time that you are sharing such an intimate moment with a partner instead of going through it on your own.
A new rule has also been added to this section, as unlike in the other areas within the mansion, the players and the audiences are allowed to go a bit further. More direct physical contact and direct communication are allowed within the showing room while the audiences in the other room are free to make contact with their partners, though the limitations of direct communication still apply, and nothing more than the minimal contact that the club allows is permitted between the audience.
Even with the leniency added within this section, the rules strictly state that no sexual penetration is allowed. And it appears that not only is this rule applied in the showing room, but it is implemented in any area within the mansion that is available for the guests as long as tonight’s event is still ongoing.
Despite it all, this only means that anything could still happen beyond these doors. Even with the limitations, the possibility still seems endless. The only thing left to consider is how far are you willing to go, and where would you draw your limit while you are here, experiencing everything that the club has to offer.
Skimming through the rules one more time and reading the details of the rooms that you are about to enter, you picture yourself becoming a part of both options, trying to see which one of them that you could indulge in without feeling uncomfortable at all. After going through the soiree in the main ballroom, there is a need within you that is begging to be fulfilled and a dark desire that is asking to be unleashed, and your curiosity is allowing you to try anything that may help you find release.
But how much are you willing to share with the club tonight, knowing how different the scale of tonight’s event is compared to the sessions you have been in?
There is a sense of insecurity about exposing the intimate part of yourself after taking one too many steps further with Jungkook during your own personal time. You have been sharing those nights and the experiences privately with Jungkook without any audience around you for the past few months. Suddenly, going from those nights to sharing it with unseen strangers feels like a huge leap. But you still want to experience everything you possibly could, to get a closer look at what the club is all about and find out how you and Jungkook would fit with them.
Just like what you had promised him.
“I want to watch,” you whisper softly to him once you’ve made your decision, looking into his eyes to make sure that he can hear you perfectly through the muted music coming from the other rooms around you, while silently hoping that the usher wouldn’t be listening in. “I want to see what is happening in there before jumping into the main attraction myself.”
Jungkook smiles, and you can immediately tell that he wants exactly the same thing. The glimpse of relief that you briefly catch on from his gaze makes you think that he was secretly hoping to hear those words from you too. With his hand returning to your waist, he guides you towards the door on the left, where the drawing of the single eye looking back at you welcomes your arrival. He still has his hold on you as he opens the door, revealing a small foyer right on the other side, where a standing wall partition is placed as a barrier between you and the rest of the room. You are relieved to have that barrier shielding your entry, instead of having other guests and complete strangers noticing you as you come to join them.
Though perhaps the music that is blasting through the room would have covered your entrance just enough. The loud music that welcomes you upon entry catches you by surprise, as it is completely in contrast to what was going on right outside where every other sound was muted, but you adjust to it immediately as you walk past the partition and further into the room.
The room is kept in the dark, but you manage to see through it once you walk inside. Past the barrier, you find a small lounge with multiple semi-circle loveseats and high-back armchairs placed around the room, each seat is set apart from one another, all facing the glass wall standing on your right. With their shapes and the way they are placed in the room, each seat earns its own personal space, shielding the occupants from other guests or staff walking through the entrance foyer and from each other. Aside from the cozy seating sets, there are a few sets of standing tables placed near the wall at the far back, though there is no sight of high stool chairs to accompany them.
It takes a moment before your eyes are completely adjusted to the darker room inside to see more, and only then do you finally notice that a couple of the loveseats have been occupied, while there are a few masked attendees standing in the corners and behind the standing tables, mostly in pairs, all with their eyes facing the opposite side of the room which seems to have drawn their entire focus.
The beat of the music playing from the speakers drowns the sounds coming from around you that you nearly miss what is happening. But then Jungkook leads you to one of the empty standing tables in a dark corner and positions you in front of him, allowing you to get a clear view of the other side of the room where the glass wall is situated.
Right on the other side of the clear glass, you can see what seems to be the room behind the other door that you saw earlier. Despite being illuminated with nothing more but dim lighting, the space behind the glass appears slightly brighter than the room you are in, allowing you to see everything clearly.
Taking your time to look closer into that room, you can see that the space is separated into two different sections, differentiated by the furniture items that are set across from each other. On one side, there is a long loveseat that is wide enough to act like a sofa bed. The loveseat has been left unoccupied, yet your eyes are soon drawn towards the long table and shelves which are placed around it. Even from here, you can still see the various objects that the shelves and long table contain, things that you can identify as toys, sex tools, and other supplies that might be useful for a special playtime.
A sharp cry grabs your attention, pushing you to turn and look at the other side of the room. Unlike the nearly cozy-looking playroom across from it, this section of the room has a metal pole standing from floor to ceiling, much similar to the ones you saw on the stages earlier where multiple dancers were performing gracefully. Your body has been boiling with pure need even before you got here, so you quickly feel it rising intensely once again when you finally get a clear view of the scene that is unfolding right before your eyes.
Standing with her arms bound against the pole behind her back is a woman wearing a black and golden mask. Despite its colour, the mask seems a bit more simple, without any sight of ornaments or embroidered decorations on its sides the way you saw them on the other masks worn by official members. Restrained in a similar fashion to the shackled man that you had seen earlier on one of the public acts in the main ballroom, the woman appears vulnerable, though there is something beautiful in the way she is submitting to her desire. You can see it in her eyes, when even the mask that she is wearing is incapable of concealing her reaction—the gaze that appears hazy as she looks far ahead, her soft jawline that appears slack while her lips are parted ever so slightly, as if she is in the deep state of bliss and relief.
Is that how I look? —you silently wonder, trying to imagine yourself being in her place, to imagine how you would look whenever you are embracing your own pleasure.
With her arms pulled behind her back, her entire body is thrust forward, being put on display for you and all the other spectators to see. Wearing nothing else but the mask covering her face and the pair of heels on her feet, the only other things you see on her are the pair of clamps attached onto her nipples, both connected to each other by a small chain that dangles across her breasts as she slightly moves. Her hips tremble, and you can see a vibrator poking out of her pussy. Its subtle hum can be faintly heard from between her legs despite the music blasting around you. The fact that you can still hear it, adding the way her thighs are trembling fiercely—seemingly quivering at the same rhythm as the vibrator inside her—makes you wonder just how intense and how high the level of vibration that she is experiencing right now.
Another woman makes her appearance just then. Unlike her partner who is completely bare and exposed, she appears wearing a maroon corset dress that pushes her breasts up while the hem of the dress falls barely an inch beneath her buttocks. She wears a golden mask that matches the colour of the one that the other woman is wearing, though her mask appears to be embellished with an intricate decoration of butterfly wings on both sides.
Judging from the way she is dressed and the mask that she is wearing, and also the way she is carrying herself as she moves around her partner, it is quite obvious that she is the one running the show. Despite having heard about this act before, this would be the first time you are about to witness an act of dominance. Your eyes are completely drawn to them at this knowledge. Just like how you were entranced by the intimate interaction that you witnessed earlier before leaving the ballroom, something about this pair captivates you. The amount of trust that the sub must have given to her domme seems astonishing and you can sense the connection between them even when they have yet to start going further.
With delicate movements, the woman with the butterfly mask begins circling her bound-up partner slowly while watching carefully as the other continues to tremble in her place. There is a deep sense of fondness and affection that can be seen even from the way she is looking at her partner, a sense of pride that comes with her pleasure of seeing her sub giving complete control. She also appears to be keeping a close watch as if making sure that her sub isn’t having any trouble, though she also makes no move to reach out and touch her, opting to hover around, forcing the other to wait and anticipate her next move.
In your astonishment, you realise that you are beginning to feel the sub’s anticipation as if it becomes your own while you continue to watch, as you are waiting to see what is about to happen next. The air around you suddenly grows tense, while your body becomes even more sensitive to the touch, when your body shudders each time you brush against Jungkook or whenever he is leaning a bit too close.
“Do you think they know that we’re all here, watching them?” you turn to him to whisper this, hoping that your voice is drowned in the music so only he could hear.
With a smile on his face, Jungkook leans down so he could answer you with a whisper. “They won’t be able to see us, but I’m sure they know that there would be people here in this room, watching them act. I suppose that would be what they had expected to happen when they chose to enter that room,” he says, and his eyes begin to glimmer with mischief when he slowly adds, “Just like what Taehyung said, tonight is about sharing your pleasure with other people. And just like what we came to find when we first joined the club and what we both expected to find tonight, they would likely find the thrill of knowing that they have people watching every single thing they are doing, even if they can’t see us here or confirm that they actually have an audience.”
Deep down, you know all about the thrills of having someone watching you doing all the sinful things for the sake of pleasure. But being left guessing whether or not there are eyes watching or speculating how many people would be there to see, the idea seems even more thrilling now that you are watching them act. When the thought of being in that room to perform lewd acts had intimidated you earlier, it begins to excite you, causing your body to pulse around the same time you see them finally moving into action.
The masked domme stops walking around just then, and she makes a move to stand in front of her bounded partner before taking a few steps closer to her.
From then on, the scene begins to progress slowly.
Shifting from her original place, she positions her body to stand slightly to the side, as if she is deliberately making it easier for everyone to see what she is doing. It feels like she is performing not only for the sake of her partner’s pleasure but also for everyone else’s enjoyment when she moves her delicate fingers, reaching out to give a light pull on the small chain hanging across her sub’s breasts. A strained gasp is drawn from the latter from the sudden pain. Even if you cannot hear her voice clearly, you can almost hear it inside your head when her mouth falls open in her shock and pleasure.
The pull doesn’t seem strong enough to release the clamps from their tight bites, as they are still locked in place, though it still draws the reaction that the woman is searching for from her submissive partner. She continues to run her fingers along the chain, slightly lifting it up while she reaches down with her other hand to touch between her sub’s legs. You watch with hazy focus as she plays with her partner’s clit, one of the few kinds of physical connection which is still allowed by the club’s rules in order to help her partner reach her climax. Your gaze snaps up from her fingers just as she lifts another end of the chain, and only then do you finally notice the third clamp, hanging down low enough to reach her partner’s soaking pussy, a small chain attaching it to the other two clamps that are still clasping on her abused nipples with a tight grip.
With wide eyes, you take a deep breath as you soon realise what is about to happen.
The masked domme takes her time, taking things slowly as she continues tweaking her partner’s clit, stimulating it and making her wiggle against her restraints as she rolls her fingers through her folds and around the rosebud. Once her partner seems lost in pleasure, she finally moves on to the next step, taking the last clamp and attaching it onto her sub’s swollen clit. This time, the complete shock that rakes through her allows her voice to break through the music sounding around you. The contact draws out her scream as she fights against the restraint. The fight only lasts for a short while, however, when the domme’s touch on her partner’s skin seems to help her to slowly give in to the moment, for her to embrace the pain.
The entire scene feels intense, and you find it hard to look away. Watching the scene and imagining what she might be feeling, to imagine experiencing the pain and finding pleasure out of it sends a bolt of electricity down your body. It leaves you tingling, your core pulsing and every part of your body starts throbbing right where you imagine those clamps would be.
Your own partner soon reminds you of his presence as he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you back, pressing you tightly against his front so you can feel his heart beating rapidly and his warm breath falling on your hair as he watches the same scene in his astonishment. You can feel his erection not-so-subtly pressing against your backside, making your heart race faster and your knees grow weaker that you almost begin to quiver against him.
Though it seems like something else is beginning to take over you as well when you notice that you are slightly moving.
To your vivid imagination, your body has started to react accordingly without you having the chance to stop it. With each throb that you feel, your body twitches, and your hips sway backwards against Jungkook as if searching for leverage. Just as you incidentally start rubbing against his covered bulge, a moan slips out of you, snapping you out of it right before you get pulled too far into your need, and you stop yourself with a gasp.
You give a quick glance as subtly as you can to the nearest seats, hoping that nobody had caught up with your reaction. Though you have no doubt that Jungkook has noticed it, when he has his hands resting on your waist, holding you back and stopping you from pulling away. “Did they set up the music so loud to drown our voices?” you whisper to him as he bends lower, pressing his face against your cheek so he could hear the sound of your voice.
“Maybe it’s being set that way so they won’t be able to hear us from their side of the room. I suppose it would also help them get into the perfect headspace that they would have needed if they are listening to the same thing too, and forget the fact that there are other people on the other side of that glass,” he answers you with a whisper after chuckling softly, as if he knows that you are trying to cover your slip up. But then he nips at your earlobe teasingly, causing your body to shudder against him, and your skin grows warmer when he says, “Or maybe it’s for everyone in this room, so we won’t be able to hear each other.”
Jungkook’s cryptic words take time to sink in, as your mind has grown too hazy to focus. But then you begin to realise what he was trying to say, that he wasn’t specifically talking about the two of you or how your reaction may have gotten too noisy to attract attention. Slowly, you begin to realise that he was talking about everyone else.
Blinking your eyes, you turn your gaze away from the scene. The move is enough to finally snap your entire focus and you start noticing your surroundings, to finally be able to distinguish the muted sounds of hums and moans hidden behind the loud music, and that they are coming from somewhere much closer than you had thought.
Following the source of the sounds you are hearing, your eyes are drawn to the nearest occupied loveseats and the standing table a few feet away from you. The room is dark enough to hide their faces, and the high-back seats are barely enough to completely shield their bodies from your sight. But it takes no time for your eyes to re-adjust to the dark, to notice the shadowy figures in the room and the subtle movements that they are making as the lewd scene on the other side of the glass wall continues to progress.
The female guest on the nearest loveseat has her head tilted back and her chest rising and falling while her male partner bends over her, his face pressing against her neck. The shudders that are running through her are visible as she takes a deep breath, while you can guess what he is doing to her when you see the indistinct jerks that his shoulder and elbow are making beside her.
Another female guest standing behind the nearest high table seems to be swaying on her feet. Her hips are rocking in small, yet steady motions, pressing back against her male partner who still has his eyes on the scene before him. Then you notice a solo male guest sitting on a high-back armchair at the far corner of the room which is still visible from your viewpoint. While the armrests of his seat are able to cover half of his body and limbs, there is an unmistakable tremble rocking through his body. You can faintly see his heavy breathing as he slightly jerks in place, a sign that he isn’t remaining idle in his seat.
To your surprise, seeing their reaction and knowing that you are not the only one getting immediately affected only turns you on further. Turning back to the glass wall to watch the remaining scene, you press backwards against Jungkook, slightly lifting your hips up just so you can somehow come close to ease the pulses forming within your core. You can feel Jungkook’s chest quivering behind you as he releases a startled gasp, though he is quick to respond to you by placing his hands on your hips, holding you still and positioning you until you are settled in perfectly against him, where his covered hard-on is resting perfectly against the crack of your bottom.
Despite his action, you already have your focus back on the scene before you, immediately finding the masked domme moving actively in the room.
And you notice that she isn’t done with her sexual exploit just yet.
While you were stealing a chance to converse with Jungkook and taking in the scenes happening around you, she had slipped away to the table where the supplies had been set up, and she has now returned to her partner with a bright-coloured feather in her hand. Using the feather, she begins teasing her sub by circling its delicate tip around the clamps, starting from her breasts, down to her naked torso, before reaching down to her mounds below. The delicate touch of the feather seems to be causing her bound partner to start writhing against the pole and the restraint keeping her in place. Every move that her body makes is showing you that she is begging for relief. Yet her domme is showing no sign to rush forward to the next step anytime soon, when she only discards the feather to reach down, and begins playing with the vibrator by stroking in and out of the helpless sub’s pussy.
The cries that are now echoing from the showing room are no longer drowned as the masked sub is overcome with pleasure. You suppress a moan when the strokes continue, and when you see her body rocking violently as the vibrator seems to reach its deepest target, hitting her sweet spot that has her wailing in her pleasure. The muted moan still slips out of you in the end as you rock your hips against Jungkook’s crotch, his hands on your hips becoming the anchor that holds you up and keeps you from moving too hard, and then another moan escapes you when you can clearly see the telltale signs of her climax.
For a brief moment, you expect to see her being pushed to reach the end. But instead of proceeding, the masked domme halts every movement. She pulls her hand away, keeping the vibrator buried deep in her partner’s abused pussy. You can only imagine what the poor sub is going through at the moment, as you watch how her mouth falls open, her silent plea for release fades under the beat of the music.
A slow smile appears beneath the domme’s mask as she watches her partner tethering on the edge. You watch her lean down, whispering something to her partner’s ear while tracing her fingers on the tip of the vibrator.
Just then, you watch her pulling the clamp that has been biting the sub’s clit until it falls over, drawing out her cries. You barely have a moment to hold down your shocked gasp when you can faintly hear the humming sound of the vibrator inside her growing louder. An indisputable sound comes from between her legs just as you watch her body trembles, reaching you despite the loud music and the voices that are also beginning to grow louder around you, and your knees grow weak when you once again find yourself imagining being in her place. Your skin feels tight and the tingles that you have been feeling seem to escalate further, and it feels as if you are burning from the inside, when the heated area between your legs keeps pulsing and throbbing with every rock of her hips, as if you are the one indulging in the act of lust with everyone in the room with Jungkook assisting you.
“Are you feeling hot, baby?” he asks you in a soft whisper, with his lips brushing against your earlobe and his fingers running down your arms. Your whole body shudders to his touch. At this point, you are nothing more than a giant nerve ending ready to explode, but you hold back as much as you can just like what the naked sub is doing now.
“Are you feeling horny? Are you dripping wet from watching her trying to fight her own climax?” he asks again when you fail to answer him. Words seem to fail you when you are feeling so high, as if her rise to reach for climax has become yours and you are the one slowly unravelling and losing control.
“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly when you finally manage to find your voice. A low chuckle rumbles from Jungkook’s chest as he leans in, his lips finding refuge in the nape of your neck as he hums.
“Are you picturing yourself in her place, baby?” he asks you, seeing how you are reacting to the scene before you. There is a hint of amusement in his voice, but there is also a glimmer of his own desire which you can hear in his voice as he whispers to you once more, “Would you want that, surrender your pleasure to someone else?”
To your surprise, and perhaps to his as well, the answer slips right out of you so quickly. “I would—I’d do it if it’s for you.”
As if your words become a spell, Jungkook pulls back slightly. His body grows still for a moment, while his eyes appear dilated as he looks at you. A slow smile grows on his face, and then he brushes his lips against your earlobe, causing you to shiver against him when he whispers, “I’ll remember that,” then kissing the skin on the nape of your neck right after. Then he tightens his hold on you to turn you back to the front, guiding you to put your attention back on the scene right when it reaches its climax. “Keep watching, baby. You wouldn’t want to miss a thing.”
Through your eyes, you see the bound woman rocking her hips, even when you still notice her holding on as best as she possibly could as she unmercifully comes to the edge. It almost seems as if she is completely entranced, however, that her body is reacting to her incoming release without her even realising it.
Your head is spinning, as your imagination once again takes you there, right in her place. Just like her, your own body begins to move on its own, and it is starting to tremble with how much you need to come. You squeeze the arm that Jungkook has around your waist, relieved to have him to cling onto when your body starts shaking harder. Before you can pull yourself together and clear your head, you watch how the masked domme speaks out her command, a bit more loudly for everyone to hear this time instead of just as a whisper when she says, “Cum.”
With that magical word, her partner finally let herself go, her hips begin rocking harder when she gives in to the waves of orgasm that are no doubt taking over her. The sight sends you spinning right towards the edge, and the desperate need for your own climax overcomes you that you swear it would only take one touch for you to explode. The trembles in your body grow more intense when you realise just how close you are to getting there. It becomes too much for you to handle that you are losing strength on your weakened knees and you cling onto Jungkook harder to stop yourself from falling.
Once again, you are relieved to have him as an anchor, because his arm that is still holding you tightly to him becomes the one holding you up when you watch the masked domme finishes up her act by pulling at the chain hanging across her partner’s breasts, giving a stern tug on them which releases the rest of the clamps one at a time, sending her beautiful partner into a final, blissful height.
She comes with a loud scream that echoes from their room, past the glass wall and into the room where you are watching them from. You can hear her voice so clearly despite all the voices around you and the loud beat of the music, and you can feel it piercing through your body, almost pushing you to reach your own without even a single touch. You feel as if you are floating so high with your desire reaching its highest peak.
It should be sending you to a dreamy bliss, yet you can still feel it when Jungkook suddenly begins to move, when the arm that has been holding you against him tightens with a possessive hold. Then your senses become more alert when his other hand starts creeping down your body, brushing against the curves of your waist and hips before it slowly makes its way down, all the way to your pulsing center.
Your breath catches as you begin to realise what he is up to and your heartbeat races wildly in your chest as you feel his hand reaching lower, and lower, and—
There are really no words to explain what I am currently feeling.
One thing for sure is that I have never experienced something as exhilarating as what I have been through tonight. There was not a moment where I didn’t find myself feeling astounded and amused, and it was quite surprising to find that never once had I felt any aversion towards the scenes happening around me, nor did I ever feel so out of place.
As I continued roaming through the event, witnessing all the public displays of sexual exploitation, I began to understand everything a bit more. About the club, the pleasure that they offer, and mostly about the safe space that they provided for everyone who comes searching for it. And I could finally see the magic that this place had created from having a closer look at the people who are here tonight, embracing their true selves without any inhibitions and enjoying their freedom without having to worry about the outside world.
It has woken up something inside me that I had never known existed. Every reservation that I have had for this club before seems to fly out the window when I realise how different my life had become ever since I came to be a part of this club. How they have given new colours into my life.
But most importantly, how they have given me the chance to meet her, to allow me to find someone who understands my needs and has given my life a new meaning.
And the best part of it is having her here with me. To be sharing this experience together with her and knowing that I have found someone who is searching for something similar to what my soul has been seeking only amplifies the whole sensation I was engaging. Her presence makes all the difference in opening my eyes to this moment, and there is nothing sexier than watching her reaction to everything that we had witnessed, to watch her response to the scenes that were unfolding around us.
It has always astonished me how she can always be so open, how she would always have a clear expression that could easily help me understand what she is feeling, and could sometimes help me guess what is going through her mind. The way she has been so open to the things that we have encountered so far isn’t too surprising. Her curiosity and the deep interest that she has in the event have been the force that helps drive the two of us to continue learning, to try and embrace the uncharted territory that we are currently in, and it was also what had led us both here, engaging with yet another part of the club that is completely new for the both of us.
During the entire time we are together, never once I had taken my attention away from my own partner.
The sight of her getting completely enamoured at the scenes we saw in the main ballroom was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The desire in her eyes was so clear, dancing wildly like a flame as she watched everything with rapt attention. The way she nearly unravelled when we both made a stop at the last public stage, watching the pair of lovers exchanging their wanton needs in such an intimate way, had me close to holding her tightly in my arms. I have no clue if the urge had simply come from my desire to let her freely embrace her pleasure, or if I wanted to hide her from the prying eyes coming from around us.
Even as I continuously kept my eyes on her, I never failed to notice all the gazes that kept following us. Following her. It was quite obvious that I wasn’t the only one who had noticed the alluring way she was showing while indulging in the event, when her desire was shown as clear as day even in the dark, dimly lighted room. And never once had she noticed how captivating she was in her reactions as she was standing right in the middle of so many people exchanging their desire so openly with one another. Not only had she drawn other people’s attention, but she was also drawing their interest, no doubt wondering the same thing as I was—what kind of expression would she be showing if she was up there, embracing her pleasure in front of so many people? What kind of sound would she be making when that happens?
The way she reached out to me, seeking out for my touch during the entire thing had given me a sense of pride. Knowing that she was there with me, and that I was the one who got to hold her while she was quivering with the sensation rushing through her had made me realise just how lucky I have been to be chosen by her. And I love the sensation that I felt from touching her, when every single contact we made was more than enough to allow me to feel everything that she was feeling. Ever since then, I simply gave in to the moment, embracing the experience while giving her the complete freedom to pick the course for both of us.
Until we finally found our way into this room.
Watching the entire scene unfolding before us had affected me so badly, but it was her reaction to everything which has escalated it entirely. I had to hold back the best I could from going over the edge when I felt her body trembling with need, and how every shudder coming out of her body kept arousing my own desire.
As the scene continues towards its climax, her body seems to be taken over by her senses and needs that she doesn’t realise it when her body begins to react on its own. The first moment she begins grinding me almost sends me to the edge, but I do my best to hold it together. In turn, I focus on her. Judging from her heavy breathing and the tension rolling through her body, I know that at this point, she is already so close to plunging over the edge.
All she needs is a little push.
“Are you feeling horny? Are you dripping wet from watching her trying to fight her own climax?” I whisper to her, drawing her attention back to me when she seems so lost in the moment.
“Yes,” she whispers back to me, her voice shaking as she takes a deep breath. She hasn’t noticed that her fingers are sinking into my arm.
“Are you picturing yourself in her place, baby?” I ask her again when I notice how every sway of her body seems to match the bound player before us who keeps trembling intensely against the pole, struggling in her fight to hold back from coming to her climax without her domme’s permission. Taking a deep breath, I hold myself together the best I can so my voice wouldn’t shake when I ask her, “Would you want that, surrender your pleasure to someone else?”
She gasps a little before answering, “I would—I’d do it if it’s for you.”
Her direct answer takes the air right out of my chest, and my body burns hot just thinking about her, about us, taking place in the other room. Gritting my teeth, I fight the urge to kiss her and guide her to focus on the scene. “Keep watching, baby. You wouldn’t want to miss a thing.”
As she continues watching, the shudders rushing through her body grow immensely. From her back, I can feel her rapid heartbeat and her ragged breathing. As I glance down at her face, I can see the familiar light coming out of her eyes. The more she is drawn into the scene, the clearer the desire in her eyes becomes.
“Are you wet down there, baby? Is your pussy throbbing when you’re watching her cum?” I ask her as her body trembles against me. I pull her back to me, grunting in pain when her bottom is pressing on my hard-on. I suck a deep breath to stop myself from rocking against her, though I make no move to stop her from doing so to me. “Do you want to feel it too?”
I’m not sure if she can hear me questioning her. She seems so lost in the moment. As if a fog has covered her senses, and she is letting it take control of her body as she continues to rub her legs together while pushing back to me. I choose not to wait to hear her answer as I reach down, my hand travelling down her body, growing much lower than her rocking hips. It doesn’t take long for me to find the hem of her dress. With a sigh of relief, I am pleased with her decision to pick something short and tight, making it easy for me to pull the hem upward and slip my fingers underneath the fabric. The fact that the hem of her dress has risen up without her realising it while she was grinding her hips against my cock seems to be a blessing in disguise.
Even the heels that she is wearing tonight have been adequate, as they have given her enough height to make it easier for me to reach down even while we are both standing. The high table is enough to hide what I am doing from the other guests using this room, as I pull my hand back up, until the tips of my fingers reach the thin layer of fabric covering her hot pussy.
I feel her shudder and her hips twitch as I brush gently across her covered folds. The silky fabric has grown damp, soaked completely by her arousal, and it draws a smile to my face knowing how badly she had been affected by the show that we are witnessing together. I keep rubbing her folds from over her panties, quickly finding her covered slit before my finger comes in contact with what seems to be her clit. Her breathing grows more ragged as I keep on touching her, shuddering with each intake of breath as she tries to hold back. I don’t waste my time and find the edges of her panties, pushing them aside so I could slide my fingers in to find her skin.
Just as expected, I find her completely wet, her slickness dripping out of her further when I rub my fingers across her sensitive skin. I could almost smell it, the intoxicating scent that I have always enjoyed tasting on my tongue, and I could feel the familiar pulse welcoming me as I slowly slide my fingers between her folds.
I wanted to tease her, to put her on the edge for a little while longer until she detonates under my touch. But a quick look back at the showing room next door lets me know that we don’t have that much time left, when I can see that the pair or lovers are in the middle of finishing up their act, with the dominant partner gently caring her sub to help her come down from what had been the most intense climax I have ever witnessed with my own two eyes.
My own partner has her eyes nearly closed. Her body flinches briefly when my fingers come in contact with her swollen clit. The slickness that has been building up from her pussy is making it easy for me to move my fingers up and down her slit, back and forth, grazing against her wet entrance and her clit until she begins shaking against me.
She sways on her legs when I lightly press my fingers on her clit again, so I tighten my arm around her waist to keep her from stumbling and gaining attention from the other guests around us. Once I have her steadied against my chest, I continue what I was doing, and move my fingers to find her wet opening.
“So wet…,” I whisper to her as I slowly slide my fingers into her pussy. Her pussy pulses around me from being impaled by my fingers, but she makes no move to push me away or stop me. She still has her eyes on the other room, yet her body welcomes me. Her hips are lifted as if she is trying to give me the right angle to push deeper, which is exactly what I do next. Yet it doesn’t stop me from taunting her when her glossy eyes are still directed at the lovely couple before us.
I turn to look at them again, seeing exactly what she is watching. The woman with the butterfly wings mask, the domme, has released the bind that had restrained her partner onto the pole, and she is now leaning down to kiss every mark left behind on her partner’s wrists, soothing them from pain. The act seems so intimate, something that I know would entice ____ even more, just the same way it did to her with the scene that we had witnessed back in the main ballroom.
“Do you like watching them?”
A soft hum and a sigh are all I am getting from her. “Hmm—”
“Answer me, baby. Tell me what you like,” I ask her again. I lean down to start kissing the side of her neck this time, all while I begin moving my fingers in and out of her. I keep the movement slow and subtle, not enough to startle her or draw a big reaction from her but enough to cause her muscles to start fluttering around me, clenching and pulsing more intensely as I carry on.
“Yes, I like it. I like to watch,” she breathlessly says, her voice so thin that I could barely hear her. But I can feel the quiver coming out of her chest as she sucks a deep breath, finally realising that my intruding has escalated into the next step as I press deeper into her, pushing just a tad bit harder each time I come in, and enjoying the wonderful feeling of her arousal leaking out and coating my fingers in every thrust.
“Hmm, I can tell. You’re soaking, baby. And you’re so tight,” I whisper to her. Once again, her pussy walls pulse and clench into me. From the corner of my eyes, I watch the domme behind the glass gently covering her partner with a silky robe, leaving it open instead of covering the tender skin of her breasts with the fabric. Unsurprisingly, the loving gesture seems to trigger ____, as she sways into me, pushing down into my fingers with her hands clutching tightly on my arm to hold on. “Do you want to cum? Are you close?”
She gasps, and her pussy tightens around me. I pull my fingers gently back out before thrusting them back in, pushing all the way in until I draw another gasp from her. And then her entire body grows tight when I move my thumb to give her swollen clit a light brush. “Yes, Jungkook. I’d love to cum,” she says, nearly whining. Keeping a tight grip on my forearm, she begins moving her hips subtly. It seems as if her body is reacting without her control, as he humps against me, sliding down to meet each thrust of my hand inside her then coming back to rub against my cock. At this point, she is not the only one who is high-strung with need, when I can feel my own need for climax rising slowly as she keeps humping against me.
“Such a sweet one. You are always so polite and so sweet,” I whisper to her while gritting my teeth. I try to distract myself and focus on her, keeping my lips pressed on her skin to ignore the rush of blood gathering along the length of my cock. My pants feel so tight with how hard I’ve become. My body is burning hot that I feel like I can burst open. But I want her to find her pleasure first. I want to watch her unravel, and I want to be the one to give it to her first.
Soon, her breathing starts to pick up, and I can feel her growing wetter and tighter, and the steady pulse inside her keeps growing more intense. Another gasp comes out of her as her muscles flutter around me, the sign of her orgasm coming to her so fiercely. I watch the scene in front of us, waiting for the right moment to send her over the edge. I know that she is holding out for me, and she wouldn’t let herself go until I let her.
As if we were the players in the other room, and she had been the restrained partner and I was the one running the show, guiding her to embrace her pleasure.
My eyes turn to follow her gaze, and while I continue fucking her with my fingers, we watch together as the female dom leans down, capturing her partner’s abused nipple into her mouth, sending the latter shaking in her hold as she embraces her final climax. As I watch her head falls back, I feel _____’s head falling back against my shoulder, and that is when I push her over the edge that she has been so desperately clinging onto.
“Let go, baby. Cum around my fingers. Let me feel it,” I whisper to her as I push my fingers against the source of her pulse, and she erupts beautifully with a muffled cry.
Seems like, in her pleasure, she has forgotten to control her reaction, forgetting that we are still surrounded by strangers. Perhaps she is too lost in her orgasm that she just loses control, and the sound of cries that she makes nearly penetrates through the loud music still playing across the room. Thankfully, everyone around us seems preoccupied with their own acts to notice her voice, or the way she is riding my hand behind the table. A few moans can be heard from close by, indicating that she is not the only one embracing her pleasure in the middle of the scene.
But the other people in the room don’t matter to me. The only one that matters at this moment is her, and I simply keep my attention on her. The sight of her embracing her climax has always been a marvellous thing to witness. The way she simply succumbs to the waves running through her body, how free she looks as she gives in to her wanton needs. As I continue moving my fingers in and out of her, slowing down its pace little by little until I can feel the pulses pressing against me subsiding, her hips continue to rock against me as she rides through her orgasm.
My own desire remains unleashed, and my cock is still rock hard in my pants that I feel so incredibly tight down there. Every time she brushes against me, she puts me so much closer to my impending release. She isn’t the only one who has been feeling so high-strung with pent-up desire, but I try to hold on, wanting to share it with her the way she is now sharing her glorious climax with me.
Soon, I remind myself, as I continue to admire my beautiful partner, as the serene look I am seeing on her face tramples everything else that we are experiencing tonight. I wait until all the trembles and shudders in her body begin to wind down before I finally stop myself, giving her a break right before another flutter appears inside her when I try to pull my fingers away from her depth.
“Was it enough, baby? Or do you want more?” I ask her as she slowly settles against me, her body slowly growing lax in my arm. Yet I still have my fingers buried deep inside her, snug against the very same spot that had set her off. The spasms of her climax are beginning to tone down, but the way her muscles are clenching around me seems to show me that her body still holds the flame of her desire, one that might have been building up since we first arrived in this place and is barely suppressed completely even after her release.
The soft moan that she makes, followed by the gentle pulse her pussy gives me as I keep pressing at that spot inside her becomes the answer that I need. I pull my fingers out of her, snapping her out of her fog. That is when she turns to me, burying her face into my neck as she rides the last shudder that her body makes. I feel her warm breath on my skin before she nods.
“Should we go back out there and take the stage?” I tease her while I slowly raise my hand, ready to taste her. She opens her eyes, watching silently as I move my hand up as if she is entranced by the act. But as I gently tug the hem of her dress back down with my other hand to help her fix her appearance before we can find the chance to slip out of this room, her eyes light up, and my offer belatedly sinks in.
She looks up at me, surprised, then quickly shakes her head. “Alright, then. A room, then? Should we take one of the vacant showing rooms, or should we find a private room and have a moment for the two of us the way you wanted it to?”
I keep my eyes on her as I bring my hand up to my lips, each finger still coated with her release. I am ready to finally have a taste of her essence when she stops me. “The private room, please,” she answers as brings my hand to her lips. Once again, her gaze comes up to meet mine and my breath instantly stops. She opens her lips and starts licking my fingers, tasting herself. “I’m not sharing you with anybody else. Not tonight. I only want to cum for you.”
Holding back a sigh of relief, I only give her a smile, hiding the fact that not only did her words spark up my pride, but she had also brought my cock back to life that it starts throbbing against my tight pants. “Good. I have no intentions of sharing you with others as well,” I whisper to her before leaning in to capture her lips, stealing a chaste kiss before anyone would caught us.
The moment I pull away, she seems shocked. Though I am not too sure if it had been the kiss or my confession which surprised her.
But I meant everything that I said to her about keeping her solely to myself. Out of nowhere, I feel a hint of jealousy when I imagine her being put on display. I don’t normally feel possessive over something or anyone that I am with, but there is a sense of greed that I am feeling about keeping her pleasure to myself.
We take a brief moment to make sure that we are presentable before finally making a move. With her hand in mine, we turn to find our way out of the Viewing Room.
My heartbeat begins to race again as she slides closer to my side. Excitement and anticipation come rolling through me as we embark on another adventure together, both of us determined to make this magical night worthwhile and indulge the best way we can until the end.
— © 2022 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.
Breathtaking | jjk
pairing: softdom!jungkook x fem!reader
genre: smut, pwp, established relationship
warnings: oral (f. receiving), fingering, overstimulation, marking, teasing, grinding, protected sex, multiple orgasms; first time together, reader has a moment of insecurity, jk is a tease but also very loving, overall very soft and intimate
summary: Although you and Jungkook have been dating for a while, neither of you have attempted to bring your intimacy to the next level. But after a dinner date and a particularly breathtaking outfit, Jungkook is unable to hold himself back.
authors note: This is my first time writing something with the intent to post, hopefully everyone enjoys it <3
18+ Minors DNI
The moment the door closes it's as if a switch was finally flicked on. The once concealed want between the two of us revealed in seconds.
Jungkook's hand leaves the door as he reaches forward, his arm snaking around my waist.
He pulls me in close, he's about to lean down but he stops himself, "What'd you think?" he pauses, his lips pursing, "Of the restaurant?" he asks.
I smile, my chest heaving at the tension in the air, "It was beautiful. I still can't get over the look of the place, it was amazing. Whoever decorated it was an artistic genius. And don't even get me started on the food, it was delicious."
His lips curl into a faint grin, his eyes flickering down to my lips, "That's good, I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"Thank you for the experience. I've never been to a place like that before."
"Of course." he nods, his breathing unsteady.
My eyes trail along his face, eating up every little detail there is. His beautiful brown eyes, his adorable nose, his plump lips, and his sharp jawline. Don't get me started on his hair, or his piercings, ear lobes, eyebrow, lips, all of it. I just can't get enough of it all.
He's so handsome. The dim lights of the apartment only add to it. The faint lights of the city and night sky coming from the huge living windows are the only thing that allows us to see. The golden glow aligns with his features perfectly, making a sort of shiny twist to his already breathtaking face.
The moment my eyes meet his again he takes in a deep breath, as if I had been the reason he forgot to breathe. I bring my hand up to his chest, my fingers meeting the sharpness of his jaw. I'm about to say something, tell him how good looking he is, but he beats me to it.
"Fuck, you're so pretty." he breathes out, voice low.
I giggle, my hand clasping his cheek, "I could say the same about you. You're breathtaking."
Jungkook closes the gap between us, our lips meeting for the first time tonight. The kiss is passionate, hungry, even as we devour each other. My hand on his cheek travels to the back of his neck as I pull him in closer. The kiss deepens as our tongues fight against each other.
The only thing that pulls us away is the lack of air. I pull away, breathless, my chest heaving as I rest my forehead against his.
A moment of silence passes as we catch our breaths.
Suddenly he completely pulls away, I open my eyes confused at the lack of contact. His hand reaches out, gently grabbing mine as our fingers entwine. No words pass between the two of us as he leads me down the hall.
We stop in front of his bedroom door. He opens it with his free hand, the faint automatic lights on each of his nightstands providing the only illumination to the room. It's not much, but it's enough. If anything it's almost identical to the lights from the big windows back in the living room.
This time when our eyes meet it's different. His eyes are dark and wreaking with lust as he closes in. His tattooed fingers reach forward as he cups my chin. He tilts my head up, eyes searching mine.
He must've found exactly what he was looking for because he finally leans back in. Somehow this kiss is even more passionate than before. I barely notice the movement as he slowly brings me toward his bed.
The moment my knees hit the frame, he pulls away, his hand on my chin travels down to my chest pushing gently. I fall onto the bed, a surprised gasp leaving my lips as my back meets the soft material of his comforter.
He chuckles softly as he stares down at me, his hands traveling to his dress coat. I prop myself up on my elbows, watching as he pulls it off and discards it to the floor.
He steps forward, eyes not leaving mine. One of his knees props itself onto the bed next to my thigh. I look down briefly before my gaze is fixated on his fingers. They work carefully at the buttons of his white button up shirt, releasing them one by one until he eventually reaches the end.
He shrugs the shirt off of his body, and it falls down gracefully, his toned chest and defined stomach coming into view. I feel my breath hitch as he pulls the sleeves of the shirt off before tossing it to the floor, his tattoos now on full display.
If there were any doubts in my mind of what was happening before, they're all whisked away the moment I spot the growing tent in his slacks.
This is really happening, isn't it? To be honest this all seemed to be falling into place perfectly, to the point where it felt like a dream.
Jungkook comes forward, taking his place above me. We're so close that I instinctively fixate my spot on the bed, ensuring that I'm situated comfortably.
His eyes wrack over my body briefly before he meets my gaze, "You looked amazing tonight," he says, the first words spoken in quite a while, "I couldn't take my eyes away from you."
It takes me a second to answer, "I know, I could see you staring." my words teasing.
He smirks, his hand moving down to trace along my sides sensually. Every time he moves his fingers I feel a warm shiver run throughout my spine.
"Your hair, your eyes, your lips," he trails along those features as he lists them off, "fuck, your outfit." he rasps, "I've never seen you wear anything like it."
His fingers reach the end of the dress, his warm fingertips meeting the bare skin of my thighs. I bite my tongue to hold back any noises that threaten to escape.
"It made me imagine things." he confesses.
"What kind of things?"
"Like what?" I press, my voice becoming quiet.
His eyes flicker up to mine, "I wondered what it would feel like to run my hands along the smooth fabric." he hums, "What it would be like once I finally took it off.."
My heart skips a beat when he grasps the bottom of the black dress, "Only then will I be able to devour the woman of my dreams."
I bite my tongue harder.
"May I?" he asks, his fingers tapping my thighs.
"Yes." I say, but it only comes out as a mere whisper.
All the last minute nerves hit its peak as he slowly drags up the fabric of the dress. He takes his time as he reveals my practically naked body.
I close my eyes, unable to look at him as I feel a flush of embarrassment. I haven't been this intimate with someone for quite a while, but it's more than that. I hate my body, just like many other women out there. No matter how much I try to please myself with my own appearance, it never works, there are always going to be some insecurities that'll never go away.
He finally reaches the end and I help him pull it off of me completely by lifting my head up. But my eyes stay closed as my head meets the soft bed.
"You're beautiful." Jungkook says, his words genuine, so genuine it hurts.
My hands fly up to cover my face. I can feel it heating up with embarrassment. Although thinking back to his words, and his actions, there's no reason to be embarrassed at all.
I feel him shift slightly before his hands grasp my forearms. When he pulls my hands away from my face, I let him do it, but my eyes remain closed.
"Look at me." he says, his voice soft.
"Baby," he pleads, "look at me." I force myself to open my eyes, the moment they meet his he smiles, "There you are."
His head dips down, our lips meeting in a sweet quick kiss. When he pulls away his lips travel to my neck as he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down my body. Starting from the crook of my neck, all the way to my chest, my stomach, and now, my thighs.
He presses down his lips on the top of my thigh, the kiss gentle. His fingers graze my leg as he does so, those simple movements sending a small shiver through my body.
The closer the kisses get, the more I feel them in my stomach. Soon he reaches the inner part of my thigh, the moment his skin meets mine I feel a flame ignite from inside me. The insecurities from before are now gone as my mind becomes clouded with a single thought.
The loving kisses quickly start to feel like a tease, "Jungkook," I whine, "stop teasing."
He hums in response, his fingers hooking onto my underwear. He pulls it down slowly, giving me the chance to object, but I never take it.
He groans as he's finally able to see the part of me he's been waiting for. He pulls the cloth down my legs, discarding it to the floor before coming back up.
Each of his hands grasps my thighs as he gently pushes them apart. I hide my face again, but this time simply because of shyness. My previous insecurities are so far out the window, they're long gone as I feel his right arm leave my thigh and instead move to my core.
The moment his fingers graze over my clit I'm unable to hold back the noises anymore, a breathless mewl escaping my lips.
He chuckles, "You're so wet already, and I haven't even touched you."
I groan, his teasing words somehow annoying me, "Jungkook."
He laughs again, his left hand squeezing my thigh, "What?"
"Touch me, please." I plead, voice quiet.
"Anything for you."
His fingers run through my folds, spreading them apart as his thumb grazes my clit. He begins rubbing gentle, rhythmic circles, ones that send steady waves of pleasure through my body.
It's good, it feels amazing, but I want, "More."
He obliges immediately, knowing exactly what I want as his lips meet my heat.
A silent cry leaves my lips as I bring my fist up to my mouth, biting down to muffle any crude noises.
His hand pulls away, traveling back to my thigh as his tongue takes over. He grabs onto the back of my thighs as he pushes me up slightly, his tongue working his magic as he devours me.
It doesn't take long for that familiar feeling in my stomach to appear. With every movement of his lips, the intensity grows higher, the pleasure growing by the second.
I let out a quiet dragged out moan as his grip on my thighs tighten and the pressure of his tongue increases. He smiles, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips, the vibration of it sending pleasurable waves throughout my body.
The hand in my mouth flies to the sheets, "Fuck." I gasp, my fist tightening.
His right hand leaves my thigh as he brings it back to my heat, but instead of focusing on my clit it goes elsewhere.
I feel the air leave my lungs as his fingertips gently push into my folds. I'm already so turned on that he's able to push them inside easily, my juices leaking around his digits.
Jungkook lets a groan out at the lewd sight, his noises heading straight to my stomach in more ways than one. He then adds another, pumping them in and out slowly while his lips suck intensely on my clit.
It's all too much.
A broken cry escapes my lips as I feel my climax approaching. I open my eyes to look down at him, and when I do that was a mistake. The view of him between my legs is like heaven.
His eyes meet mine from below, and I feel him smile into my skin. His fingers twist, hooking up as the pressure on my clit increases. The position his fingers are in sends continuous waves of pleasure throughout me as he continues to eat me out.
It's so powerful that I drop back down, my eyes closing as my head meets the soft comforter. I feel my stomach tense and my insides clench around his fingers.
"I'm close." I whimper, the words high pitched and breathless.
He continues his movements, not faltering as I feel the sensation in my stomach reach its peak. I'm right there.
"Oh god, fuck." I cry, my hand reaching down to pull him closer.
My fingers thread through his black locks as I pull slightly, this makes a loud groan escape his lips. The groan is the tipping point, the sound and the vibration of it all finally snapping the knot within the pit of my stomach.
I gasp, my back arching as I reach climax. White spots cloud my dark vision as a pure wave of pleasure flows through my body. My hand in his hair tightens and the thighs around his head close involuntarily.
"It feels so good," I say through my clouded state of pleasure, "shit, Jungkook you're so good. You make me feel so good." I ramble, my head empty and words laced with lust.
He hums in satisfaction as he helps me ride out my high, the waves of pleasure continuous until it eventually dies down.
I fall slack against the bed, my hand on his head retracting and the thighs around his head loosening.
I feel his fingers leave me but his mouth doesn't. His tongue enters me again, painful yet pleasurable shocks of overstimulation hitting me as he licks up any lasting juices.
A whimper escapes my lips, "S-sensitive, ah."
My thighs shake slightly from the intense orgasm before, and the pangs of oversensitivity only add to it. It hurts but it feels good at the same time.
Once he's finally satisfied he pulls away, "You taste so good, so sweet."
I look at him in time to meet his hungry eyes, I watch as he licks his lips, his lower face glistening with my arousal. What a wonderful sight.
He climbs back up me, and once his face is level with mine he leans down. I groan, my eyes closing as my lips meet his. I can taste myself on him. I'm so lost in the kiss that when he pulls away I lean forward to chase his lips, but I'm unsuccessful.
He chuckles, pushing me down gently as he leaves a wet kiss on my cheek before moving down to my neck. He explores the area as he searches for my sweet spot. When he finds it my body practically twitches as he kisses there, sucking down before biting softly.
He continues to bite along my neck, leaving a trail of bruises as he reaches my collarbone. My hands place themselves on his bare shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin as he reaches the dip of my breasts.
As his lips suck at my skin he plants his knees down on either side of my hips, his hands moving to my back. I arch my back up, giving his access to the clasp of my bra. I feel his fingers graze my skin as he grasps the material.
His fingers tremble as he attempts at removing it but he fails. He tries again, a curse leaving his lips out of frustration when he fails.
I giggle, my hand tapping his back. He detaches his lips from my skin as he looks up, eyes pleading. I send him a comforting smile as I sit up slightly, he gives me room by sitting back on his knees.
My hands move to my back, unclasping my bra after the second try. He watches as I shrug it off, discarding the material to the floor. He's about to lean forward, and push me back down but I stop him, my hand shooting out to his chest.
His gaze moves from my breasts to my eyes, his eyebrows furrowing.
I reach forward, my hands hooking to the loops of his slacks, "Take it off." I say, the order clear as he nods.
I'm already completely naked before him while he's simply shirtless, that's not fair.
His fingers work quickly against his belt as he unbuckles it, tossing it to the ground before he unbuttons his slacks. Once he pulls down the zipper I let go of the material, letting him tug it down on his own.
I feel my mouth practically water as he reveals his black boxer briefs, his hard on as clear as ever. He kicks the fabric off, and it joins the rest of our clothes on the bedroom floor.
I reach forward, my fingers tracing his clothed member. He groans at my touch, his eyebrows knitting together. Now it's my turn to return the favor.
I grab hold of the fabric about to tug them, but before I get the chance he pushes me down, towering over me once again.
"Wait," I whine, "I wanna make you feel good."
"I'm sorry, ____, but I can't wait any longer." his hands grasp my sides as he pulls me further up the bed, my head resting on the pillows, "I need to feel you."
His words make me groan in both annoyance and anticipation.
I watch as he reaches toward his nightstand. He pulls the drawer open and pulls out an unopened box of condoms.
I was so caught up in the moment that the thought of protection didn't even cross my mind. Thank god he thought ahead. Seems like he was waiting for this moment, I would be lying if I said I wasn't either.
I grow impatient as he opens the box, tossing it back into the drawer once he takes one out. He doesn't bother to close it as he rips open the foil, tossing it somewhere on the floor.
My gaze is trained on his briefs, he needs to take them off, but he's moving so slow. I reach forward, pulling them down in one swift motion.
His cock finally springs free, and because of the force of my actions it flies up, hitting the base of his stomach. It's odd to say but, it's so pretty. Of course he has a pretty cock, just look at his damn face.
He laughs, "Is my baby growing impatient?" he teases as he discards the last layer of clothing.
"You're such a tease." I blush, unable to tear my eyes away from his bottom half.
"But you like it, don't you?"
I can't deny his words, but I can't find it in me to agree either. Although I love the teasing, I'm growing extremely impatient. My body is practically begging for his, the want in my stomach almost outmatched by the throbbing in my core.
His fingers move slowly as he rolls the condom on. What happened to his quick movements from before? He's doing this on purpose now.
I throw my head back against the pillows, an annoyed groan reverberating throughout my chest, "Jungkook." I say, my tone scolding yet quiet.
"Hm?" he hums, "What is it?" his voice laced with a playful tease.
I want him so much, it's almost hard to breathe, "I need you."
"Yeah?" he breathes, his hands gripping my thighs.
He grinds against me softly, his cock rubbing against my folds. He continues this movement, simply grinding instead of entering. Although it feels good, it's not enough. I reach forward, my arms wrapping around his back, pulling him down.
"Stop teasing, I can't take it anymore," I speak, my voice trembling.
He gazes at my desperate form, "Shit, I can't either."
He lets go of one of my thighs, his hand moving to his length as he strokes himself briefly, aligning himself at the entrance.
We both moan in unison as he pushes himself inside, nice and slow. The wetness of my slick guides him inside easily, the painful pressure almost nonexistent as he bottoms out.
Not only is his cock pretty, it's just the perfect length. Not too big, not too small, and just the right amount of girth. It's like he was meant to be the one to fill me up, it's too good. It's perfect.
"You feel so good," his head dips down, finding its place in my neck, "so good," he repeats.
His hot breath engulfs my neck as he starts to move, rocking his hips at a slow and steady pace.
I get lost, lost in the feeling of him. His breath on my neck, the rock of his hips, and his body above mine. It all feels amazing.
His pace increases, the feeling of him inside of me somehow getting better, "I don't think I'm gonna last long." he confesses, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
"That's okay," I whisper, "just feel good for me."
He groans, biting down at my neck. He brings his arm down, snaking it between our bodies. The moment his fingers meet my skin I'm a goner.
I whimper, one of my hands traveling up to run through his hair, "More, please."
He applies more pressure as he draws circles around my clit, "Is that good?" he asks, voice raspy.
I nod hurriedly, that simple action bringing back the familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, "Yes, just like that."
My words make him moan, a particularly hard thrust following, one that hits perfectly. I feel myself clench around him, "Do that again, Jun—"
He does it again, my voice failing me as I let out a cry. He keeps the same pace but continues with that strength, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure straight to my stomach, and the fingers on my clit only add to it.
I'm not gonna last long either.
The hand in his hair tightens, my fingers pulling against his hair. The other on his back grips down harder, my fingertips scratching the smooth skin of his back.
Jungkook lets out a high-pitched moan, "Fuck, keep doing that."
His noises head straight to my core. I do as he says, my nails scratching his back as my fingers pull at his hair.
He lets out another desperate sound, one that makes the knot in my stomach grow tighter. He's so hot. I can barely think, especially when he makes noises like that.
"I'm getting close," he says, his face still buried in my shoulder.
"Me too." I'm able to speak, my voice barely audible.
Before I know it I'm nearing the edge, my grip on him tightening and my insides clenching. This seems to be his tipping point.
"Ah, ____, I'm cumming." he whines, an exasperated whimper leaving his lips.
His hips stutter, his cock twitching as he reaches his climax. Even through his moment of pleasure he finds the strength to keep going, determined to tip me over the edge.
Feeling his cock twitch and his movements turn desperate does it for me. The knot in my stomach exploding. The air is ripped from my lungs as I release, a broken mixture of cries and curses leaving my lips. My arms turn limp as they fall from his body.
Jungkook's ministrations slow but he keeps them steady as he rides out both of our highs, the pleasure still strong even once he pulls away. His fingers leave my clit and he pulls out, falling to my side.
We lay there in silence. The sounds of our breathing are the only things filling the room.
Jungkook is the first to move, an exhausted groan leaving his lips as he sits up. He takes off the condom, twisting it before he tosses it into the small trash can beside the nightstand.
I run my hands over my face and through my now messy hair. The post orgasmic bliss lingers in my cloudy mind as I look over at him. He notices my gaze and looks down at me.
He smiles, "How do you feel?" he asks, his hand reaching down to caress the side of my face.
"Amazing," I say, "I feel amazing."
"Good." he leans down, his face hovering over mine.
I reach up, pulling his face down to mine in a soft kiss. When he pulls away I move forward, taking his lip piercing in my teeth teasingly before letting go.
He chuckles, "I'm gonna take a shower, do you want to join me?"
His offer makes my heart skip a beat. I've never taken a shower with him before, let alone anyone. That's something I hear about significant others doing with each other but I've never experienced it myself.
He smiles, "Great," he grabs my hand, "let's go."
summary: the boys being protective of boo
genre: fluff and protectiveness??
boo’s life | bts 8th member au
“absolutely not” was the first thing that came out of jimins mouth when he saw boo walk out of the dressing room
his words cause everyone else in the room to turn to her, this caused an uproar of all the members
“you look pretty”
“why would the stylist put you in that”
boo pouted as she did a small spin in front of the boys who were now standing in front of her, covering her from anyone else “..i though i looked pretty” she pouted look up at jimin with her pretty doe eyes
jimin immediately softened at her words “of course you look pretty baby” he walked up to her and pulled her into a hug, a hug that boo did not respond too, she just stood there pouting
"but baby..you’re basically naked” spoke taehyung looking around the room for something to cover her with
boo backed away from all of them and looked slightly mad “jimins basically naked!” she exclaimed point to what jimin was wearing
he was wearing a zip up sweater, but the zip was down so you could see his whole chest
“is there anyway we could make you change” jin asked wrapping his arms around boo
“nope” boo responds slowly shaking her head side to side
even through the boys hated the idea, they sucked it up, because while the way boo looked was explicit, she liked it, and at the end of the day that’s all that mattered
Changing One's Tune (15)
Summary: Hybrids have always been known to humanity after scientist decided to test the limits of the animal genetics on humans. Now the world uses them as adoptable companions, which is why a group of friends found their way at a Hybrid Shelter. Though one trip turns into an ugly fight involving Yoongi to walk away—But what happens when that same male finds a cat hybrid that is scared out of her mind with a dark past. Who said that dark past was over?
~Pairing: Min Yoongi (BTS) | Suga x Hybrid f! Reader
~Genre: Angst & Fluff, Hybrid au
~Word Count: 3.6K
~Tag List: @tanumiki @yummiethedragoon2 @llcalumllhoodll @darkmangoo @kurochan3 @wooya1224 @lilacdreams-00 @fangirl125reader @halesandy @aviwasabi21 @mrcleanheichou @loveyoongles @queenthorin1 @rosquilleta @a-golden-sunflower-vol-6 @sockie-the-dumbass @jipwark02 @malewife-supremacy @tinyoonsblog @becomingbts @lenafarn @ultralillylove @deathkat657 @janeelizabeth1216 @sumzysworld @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @agustdjoon @ironrosestylist @d-noona @matchat3a @zae007live @friendlywraith @bangtannie7 @bangtanswrld @marieebarbzz8 @quokkahideout @that-author @honeybxes @kim-jias-den @loner0907 @artgukk @jaiuneamesolitaiire @readers-posts @chieftoadturkeynickel @matchat3a @almosttoopizza @pb-n-jujuu @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @btsiguess-kpop @kisskissshutmydoor @adeptiixiao @avadakabra93 @khjcoo @kimahjung98 @murkydoesnotloveyou @bbl32 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @schokoshaker @theonethatlikeskpop @yoursoontobestepmom @purplewinterluv @rosiepetalss
Part: 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / More Chapters Soon...
That damn thing was there to torture you, wasn’t it?
Wild eyes narrowed, tail swishing as your ears twitched from the ticking sound… The big numbers staring right into your very soul—Ugh! Can time move any slower?!
Whining, you slumped further onto the carpet ground—You spent nearly all of December with the boy’s family, having come back into the city just last night. Although it was quite nerve wrecking, you managed to let your guard down more. It felt like a big weight has been lifted and for the first time, you’ve felt… Free.
And that’s exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about your Christmas gift—Today being the day you’ll finally receive it.
The only problem? It was still too early, and the appointment wasn’t until another hour as you glared at Yoongi’s new wall-clock, watching the third handle tick by. A snicker fallin’ from your delicate lips seeing the clock was in the shape of a familiar record design, exactly the one Hoseok gifted him. During that time, while he smiled, you knew Yoongi was secretly too excited about hanging it up—Your guess was correct, considering that was the first thing he did when coming home.
Normally, right now, you’d be sleeping next to the man in question while transformed… Dozing off in a ball of fur as your tail smacked his face—But how could you sleep in a time like this? Knowing this was the exact day you’ll get adopted, officially! The thought had you squealing in delight, rolling on the ground with your favorite blanket. Feline eyes darting out the window to see the first morning sunrise, snowflakes lightly flyin’ in the wind.
Winter was still ongoing, but not as strong… Remembering two days ago Taehyung skipping in excitement among the snow when seeing a few purple crocus sprouting, the tiger hybrid telling of a tale how it was a sign of good-luck. The flower ‘celebrating the coming forth of springtime’ and how it represented ‘new beginnings’. You didn’t even have the heart to prevent him from plucking the flowers as he made a small crocus crown for the both of you.
Sighing, your attention flew back to the clock—What the hell? You jumped in pure shock seeing how it was well past an hour. A tightness building up in your throat, fearing that maybe it was too late to make it for the appointment. What if it was…
Nothing was going to stop yourself from getting adopted today by Yoongi—There are some people that complain about adoption for hybrids, you hear them whispering among themselves whenever going out with Yoongi as they point at your proudly-displayed collar. But they don’t understand… In this world, you can’t just be a stray-hybrid.
You’d need an owner... Friend, to live the freedom a hybrid can live without the fear of being sheltered or worse.
Shaking your head, a smile broke out when yelping as you slipped in the hallway before getting right back up and bursting into Yoongi’s room—It was dark and although harder to see without your night vision, it was nearly impossible to miss the big lump on the bed that snored softly.
So, you pounced.
“Yoongi… Yoongi, wake up!” You shouted, nudging the man as a groan escaped from underneath the covers as you continuously jumped on Yoongi. Frowning at the nonexistent movement, you tried pullin’ the blankets away only for a squeal to leave your lips. A rough shake practically pushing you off the bed with a huff—Alright… That’s it!
Peeking up from the other side as you sat on the floor, anyone would’ve expected the bed to catch fire at the harsh glare you were giving when needing to climb back up. “Yoongi,” You hissed, pulling at the blanket once more as Yoongi’s face showed, his facial expression scrunching at the lost of warmth. Calculating, you smirked almost evilly when soft jet-black hair had gracefully fallen upon his forehead.
Tail flickering in mischief, you grabbed a handful and yanked… Yoongi cussing and hissing in a faint whisper, eyes immediately snapping open with an icy-glare before softening to see you and not one of the guys he believed—Then again, if he saw Jungkook, Yoongi doesn’t think he’d even be able to say no… Kick him, yes, but not no.
“And what do you think your doing kitten?” Yoongi grumbled, voice coming off in a low and hoarse tone, a shiver running down your spine and tail standing puffy/tall in alarm at the affect that was going through you. Ears perking with a slight twitch feeling a lazy, but innocent gesture of his hand resting on your leg—Your eyes widen, this was new, weird, and… something else.
“A-Adoption… Adoption day,” You muttered, feeling the sudden confidence lessen as your face felt extremely hot… Tail instinctively reaching over to hide your bashful expression. The sight had Yoongi confused for a split second, only to scramble up in a sitting position when realizing what was said.
“Oh shit! What time is it—”
“Yah Yoongi, we just let ourselves in. Are you almost ready to—” A new presence broke into the room, attention turning to see Seokjin standing at the entrance of the bedroom door… Water spilling from his mouth like a waterfall—From his perspective, it might’ve appeared like Yoongi, and you were in a compromising potion from how his hand was lazily draped on your leg and unconsciously slidin’ to your thigh during the movement. The fluffy covers being the one to cover the true aspect of the position you both were closed-in.
It sure didn’t help the fact that your face was red as a freshly-bloomed rose, or how Yoongi’s hair was a bed-mess.
Embarrassment filled within, gaping in pure horror while Yoongi was still half-asleep to fully comprehend what was going on that had Seokjin slamming the bedroom door. Although an idea slowly started forming once argument was heard outside, the doorknob rattling as if they were fighting to open it or not.
“I just want to see Y/N—” Jungkook whined, the other hybrid boys whimpering in response… The bunny hybrid, surprisingly, being stronger than all seven of them combined as he practically burst through the room. Each hybrid tripping over one another as they fell to the ground, Namjoon hesitantly peeking inside as well only to instantly turn to leave with a nope seeing your position. “Ugh, Y/N are you—Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!!”
“Listen, it’s not what you perverts think!” Yoongi shouted, lightbulb finally going off on what everyone seemed embarrassed about. Jimin snickering, a sly smirk gracing his handsome features while Taehyung looked in clueless confusion… Hoseok didn’t waste time to run out with apologies fallin’ like a marathon. Though Jungkook stared with mixed emotions from confusion, embarrassment, to apologetic and finally devious.
“Hyung! How dare you take advantage of our Y/N like this? Shame on you,” Jungkook spat, grinning when Jimin burst out laughin’ as the fox slapped his back in a fit. The bunny hybrid tutting, jumping to his feet and rushing to lift you off the bed, dashing out as he went to tell the others. Yoongi complaining to himself how wrong they were, huffing as he slumped against his dashboard.
“You know Yoongi, if you wanted to play,” Jimin teased, showing off his canines… Crawling on the bed in a sinful manner as he tilted Yoongi’s head up by the chin with an evil glint. Red-fox tail swaying around them in a captivating way for a predator about to attack their prey. “We’ve always have operation… I’ll be the doctor.”
“Shut up,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, shoving Jimin off the bed as the fox landed with a thump. Jimin’s laugh echoing throughout the silent room causing Taehyung to giggle at his contagious personality, despite not knowing what was going on still. “Get out so I can get dressed.”
“Don’t get shy now. We’ve all seen you—”
“Jimin, I swear to fuckin’ god!!”
A transformed tiger and fox practically threw themselves out the room, barreling into each other as objects flew out in the hall—Yips, yelps, growls, and howls being heard all around as the ones in the living flinched knowing Yoongi got to them.
You were actually here; You couldn’t believe it… Eyes widening in delight seeing the hybrid shelter sign. Namjoon and Yoongi chuckled at your excitement, fixing your jacket and bucket hat to make the other hybrids inside more comfortable—Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok bundled up already, gaining the stamp of approval from Seokjin that the four were good to head inside.
“Alright, alright. I’m good!” You insisted, smiling and jumping out of their grasp in a sprint, catching up with the rest of the boys—However, it turned out to be a huge mistake going forward.
Staggering back, you winced, letting out a caterwaul from all the different exotic scents that hit your nose in full force. A hand slapping over your face… God, it felt like you wanted to vomit at the intensity. Pathetic whimpers escaped, tears forming as everything became a blurry mess—How did all the pack of hybrids handle this here?!
A gentle hand touched your lower back, the action making you flinch and tense.
“Shh… It’s okay,” Yoongi—His voice immediately cutting through the fog, an arm draping over your shoulder that brought you closer. The music producer not caring about the tickle against his chin that your ears were doing, waiting patiently for you to calm down before making sudden movements. Your nose twitching, inhaling Yoongi’s familiar cologne and vanilla scent. “What happened? You were just excited two seconds ago kitten.”
“Shut up,” You muttered, a shaky laugh bubbling out at the teasing tone—Yoongi had known exactly what happened… He’s experienced it multiple times with Jungkook. But rather than discussing it, Yoongi did what was a normal occurrence to show he cared and formed the situation into a joking manner. Wishing to ease your discomfort, he took off his black mask and adjusted it on yourself.
The filtered-cloth didn’t get rid of the smells completely but dimmed it enough were it was tolerable, helping your overwhelmed state. Namjoon—with such a gentleness—instructing for you to take a couple of deep breaths.
Wild green eyes, that were glowin’ slightly, snapped open to see Jungkook in a similar situation. The tall-bunny practically buried in Hoseok’s hair, cotton tail rustling among his oversized t-shit with the sound of feet thumping against the floor—Hoseok’s scent being the only one strong enough to keep Jungkook sane… Everyone else, except you, had a too strong of cologne, pheromones, or just had a flowery scent that he hated.
Yoongi led you toward the front desk, where no one was in sight, and rang the bell. Your tail flickering in an anxious manner as a woman (Finally) came out from the back with a clipboard.
“Good morning! How can I help you?” She smiled, nearly stunned to see about eight of you waiting in the lobby—Her eyes widening at Jungkook’s trembling form… Instinctively rummaging through the drawers and handing Seokjin a brand-new facial mask for the bunny. Something that was always kept handy in case hybrids were sensitive to smells.
The sight had you awing—You could practically feel a “mother’s caring nature” vibe from this woman.
“We’re here to see Sujin… We have a meeting with him,” Yoongi explained, the lady humming in understanding, not minding the near cold exterior he was unconsciously giving. Her fingers going straight to work, the computer granting access to the much-needed information.
“Ah yes, here we are! For Mr. and Mrs. Min…” She trailed; snickers being heard in the background that caused Yoongi to turn with a glare—The guys straightened as they tried to act casual, shaking shoulders giving them away, along with their mischievous smiles twitchin’ to break out. “Sujin will be with you all soon! He’s currently finishing up with a couple that came in earlier… Lovely people, so sad what happened to them.”
Frowning, everyone cocked their heads to the side at the extra comment—Curiosity filling them on what had happened. Although before the guys could question it, a door opened, your ears perking underneath the hat… You recognized that scent, yes, he was at the hospital!
“Ah. Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin! It’s good to see you three again, along with your hybrids,” Sujin greeted, smiling warmly with a shake of their hands. Although, you’ve noticed the man taking one glance at you in suspicion before gesturing everyone to follow—Yet one step in his office had you wincing, Yoongi staring at you in concern before hesitantly giving Sujin his attention.
There was a certain smell in the air… Something that had you wanting to hide, but it was mixed with other scents that you couldn’t recognize it—Maybe you were just overthinking, after all, there are a ton of predator hybrids here.
A windshield laugh had you snapping back to reality, finding Seokjin red in the face from whatever Sujin said. They were making small talk… The sight had you scrunching up your nose—Either a dumb or brilliant idea came to mind, gently tugging for Yoongi’s attention as you excused yourself for the “bathroom”.
Taking a deep breath, you quietly got up as the guys continued and left through a door that wasn’t entered before. Eyes widening seeing the long hallway that had multiple doors, but with a wider one at the end.
Something inside wanted you to explore, but another was whispering how this wasn’t a good idea and to go sit back in the safety length of the guys—You can guess what side won, your feline instincts forcing you to walk toward the door… It helped that the closer you got, the more hybrid scents seem to fade.
You don’t know what you expected, but it sure wasn’t to find hybrids on either side of glass panels—Hamsters, bunnies, sugar gliders, and so on… All going about in a playful manner, some hanging out inside or running back and forth through the open doors that lead outside.
Despite them in the Rodentia and Leporids family, you stiffened when all their attention was directed at you with calculating eyes—They knew what kind of hybrid you were, but something about how tense you were didn’t seem to scare them. Most felines walked like the world was their kingdom, but you appeared as if you’ve barely belonged on the runway. It was an odd sight for them to say the least.
Coughing, you straightened up and headed to the next room—The Felidae family…
“Well aren’t you cute,” A voice broke the silent walk, grabbing your attention to see a cougar hybrid. A grin upon her face and tail swishing in nothing but mischief… She was older than you and came off like a big sister than anything. “Are you lost?”
“No. I’m waiting for my…” You hesitantly trailed, flickin’ your collar as the hybrid seemed to understand with a nod. Not at all resentful that you had someone to leave with. In fact, the feline seemed to relax in almost a relief that you weren’t wandering around by yourself—That’s where it started, not being long until the cougar had you laughing, giving stories on the multiple pranks she pulled until Yoongi came for you.
“Darlin’ look! A lost little kitty-cat.”
Your whole body turned to stone, eyes widening as you stopped breathing for a moment. The cougar hybrid sensed your distress and change of mood… Eyes narrowing and growlin’ behind you—No… Please no… Please.
…” I’m sorry if you don’t mind us asking. That lady earlier had mentioned you were with a couple earlier—What happened to them?” Namjoon questioned, calming the boys down as Sujin eyes sadden. The shelter owner giving a tight smile as he looked anywhere but at them.
“Oh them… It hurts thinking about it, but about a year ago, this lovely couple actually lost their hybrid—Apparently there was an incident in their neighborhood and hybrid poachers broke into their home. The couple fought tooth and nail to protect their little one but… God, it’s awful evening thinking about it. The two barely were able to step in here, unsure if they were even ready to reminisce and care for another hybrid,” Sujin muttered, shaking his head to rid of the horrid images that currently ran through his mind. The story had Taehyung, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin shaking, while the other three guys stared with a solemn expression. “…I pray that Y/N is at least resting in peace.”
Yoongi’s head snapped up, jumping out of his chair as it fell to the ground from the sheer force—Sujin’s eyes widening seeing an odd look upon his face… On everyone’s faces.
“What was their hybrid’s name again?”
Everything felt like slow motion for you, scrambling and slipping across the hallway floor as hybrids noticed your fearful state—Their calls as they all banged on the glass panel were mute to your ears, the pounding of your heart being the only music that was actually heard.
You’ve barged into the last door, coming face-to-face with multiple canines that jumped to their feet at your sudden entrance. Their curious eyes watching you twist around, shrugging off as much layers you could to free your tail and ears. It felt like you couldn’t breathe!
“Here kitty-kitty~ We’ve been so worried about you…”
…” Hurry the hell up!!” Yoongi shouted; fist clenched in pure white as Sujin frantically pulled up a file on his computer as the four hybrids glared at him with a predatory glint.
“I can’t control the speed of the internet!!” Sujin snapped, slamming the monitor in stupid hopes that it would speed up the loading process as it tried retrieving the information that was filled out for the last client as they did a background search. Eyes darting away from the computer screen in sheer worry hearing faint barking, roars, and growls in the background—Every hybrid starting a sudden ruckus.
“That’s it! I’m heading—”
“There!! It’s done—It says that Mr. and Mrs. Hyun owned a feline hybrid (black) that went missing around a year ago on a rainy day. Her name was…”
“Y/N! How we missed you… Now, why don’t you be a good little thing and come home—Oh? What’s this…?” A sickeningly chuckle rang throughout the room, your back against the glass as you sat on the ground in pure terror. Wild eyes staring up at the couple that was a mere inch away (Collar reflecting in the light), banging heard all around as each hybrid tried to break through to defend you. “A collar? You’ve got to be kiddin’.”
“Don’t worry, I know the perfect remedy that will take care of that,” The man sneered, body shaking as you saw the woman open her purse—Your face paled… She was holding a noose like a leash, hand instinctively reaching for your throat in a protective manner.
Then… You screamed, a bloody curdling scream that had the hybrid’s eyes turning into slits as they all transformed—Animal instincts running through their veins and throwing their bodies against the barrier between them, glass starting to slowly crack.
You’ve kicked, clawed, and reached for something to sink your teeth in as you fought to at least transform—It’ll help in multiple ways to bend for an escape… You were, in fact, faster on all fours.
“Nope! We can’t have that now, can we,” A giggle sounded, stepping on your wrist as her heels dug into your skin that had you hissing, already recognizing the signs of what was planned. Your eyes squeezing shut, teeth grinding together in hopes that this was a horrible nightmare.
“Y-You’re not real… You’re not—”
“Oh… Sorry to disappoint, but we are very much real,” They both said in sync, your breath hitching as one of their nasty fingers unclipped your collar to throw across the room—The familiar texture of rope touching your skin replacing the empty space. Although before they had the chance to tighten it like you knew they would… A screech and hiss was heard, their presence disappearing that had you snapping your eyes open.
“Do. Not. Fuckin’. Touch. Her,” Yoongi growled, shoving your old abuser against the wall with a tight grasp upon his shirt—Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung transformed, all three corning the fearful woman as they showed off their sharp canines while Jungkook simply cracked his knuckles.
Sujin ran off to call security while Namjoon and Seokjin rushed to your aid… Only to back up when you screamed and flinched at their touch as if they just burnt your delicate skin.
Trauma is personal… It does not just disappear.
It’s forever engraved into the depths of your soul.
Yoongi shoved the bastered into the open arms of security, glaring until the two were out of sight until whimpers and screams finally reached his ears. Turning around as Yoongi softened seeing the state you were in, curled up on the floor with the noose still around your neck.
When someone hears the screams.
Entering the pain of torture with a delicate hand…
Can the healing begin.
“Kitten…?” Yoongi whispered unsurely, crouching right next to your form as the crying stopped… Body freezing in place. Your eyes snapped up and through the blurriness you could see the familiar colors of him. The sight had you tearing up once more when Yoongi, with a softness, removed the rope around you—
“Yoongi!! I-I was…” You hiccupped, throwing yourself into his awaiting arms with a soft. Yoongi combing his fingers through your hair, whispering comforting words and humming, placing a gentle kiss among your temples.
And that’s… That is when you can truly be free from the dark past that haunts you.
“I know… I know. It’s okay,” Yoongi hushed, rockin’ you back and forth.
Welcome to the fifteenth chapter of Changing One's Tune! It's been a while... So I decided to add a little angst to the mix. The past resurfaces, but sometimes you need to face it to properly heal.
Likes, Comments, Reblogs, and Follows are very much appreciated if you enjoy the story, its always exciting to know that you like my writing and gives me more motivation to update faster!
See you all soon, Stay Gold! <3
I need step brother jungkook fcking sister in a tesla driving home pls 🥵
I know this wasn't in my wips but I was listening to ordinary life by the weeknd and here we are
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: forbidden romance, step!siblings au
warnings: mentions of violence (not towards the reader), slight allusions to murder and corruption kink, pseudo incest, oral sex (road head 💀), soft dirty talk, tiny bit of degradation, lots of praise, car sex, creampie, as always this turned out soft
The trees passing by looked like ink, branching out against the pink and orange brushes of dusk in the sky. Jungkook's hands tightened around the wheel, the feeling of your lips on his neck caressing him like a gentle gust of autumn wind, causing goosebumps to erupt along his spine. He leaned his head back against the leather seat when you left a kiss below his ear, one hand landing on your thigh.
It was difficult to find a moment where you could be alone together. He couldn't exactly kiss you or hold you out in the open, because what would people say? Personally, Jungkook didn't give a fuck. He never hesitated to bury anyone who bothered you deep in the ground, and therein lay the problem. You gave a fuck, and seeing as he was your brother, he would have to burn the whole city to the ground, starting with your parents. He doubted that would have made you very happy. Not that ultimately he wasn't going to solve this problem sooner or later.
But for now, he fucked the tears and the doubts out of you, until you understood that you were his, and he was yours.
And it seemed like you were beginning to understand, little by little. His cock hardened as your warm lips brushed up against the silver cross on his neck, your nimble fingers working on undoing his zipper. He wished he could open the window to cool down, but he wanted to hear you as well as he could, each breath you took and each soft hum you let out.
Heat bubbled in his stomach, a sharp intake of breath following the feeling of your soft hand wrapping around him, easing his cock out of his jeans. Inked fingers tightened on your thigh, eyes trained on the road stretching out before him. Even when you leaned down to swipe your tongue across the tip.
He twitched at the feeling of the wet warmth, the veins in his hands more prominent the tighter he squeezed the wheel.
"What are you doing?" He murmured, unable to help the flutter of his heart and his eyelids, his back straightening when your lips wrapped around him.
The only answer you provided him with was a soft suck as you lowered your head further, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. Jungkook groaned, restlessly searching the outside scenery for a place to park. Instead of continuing down the highway, he made a turn into the forest that stretched for miles from both sides, where the old oaks and willows could conceal you from any prying eyes.
The path he entered was rocky and uneven, the unexpected bump causing your teeth to graze against him. Jungkook hissed, slowing to a stop, not caring enough to drive deeper into the woods. As soon as the ignition was off, his hand buried in your hair, head tilting down so he could look at you. He grunted, taking in the way half of his cock disappeared inside your mouth, the way you tried to take it deeper, sloppy and wet and tight.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Oh, what a good girl."
He finally let himself throw his head back and close his eyes, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, tongue running over his piercing. The little moan you let out around him made his cock drip, and you sucked on it like you needed more. Jungkook whined, tugging on your hair softly to get your attention.
But when you lifted your head, spit shining on your lips, his hand cupped the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a messy kiss.
"Get in the back," he muttered. "Go."
It shouldn't have been surprising that as soon as you did as he asked, he was sliding your wet panties down your thighs, ready to bury his face in between them. Smoothing one hand over your spine, he bent you over the seat, the other hand busy tucking your underwear into the back pocket of his jeans.
"I'll be keeping those, baby."
Your hips rolled when you felt his lips brush your inner thigh.
"Need you inside, please," you sighed, resting your head comfortably against the seat.
Jungkook pressed himself against you, shielding you with his warmth, hard cock rubbing in between your slick folds.
"Yeah?" He groaned. "Be more specific, baby, because you know I'd give you anything. What do you need? My tongue? Fingers? Tell me, pretty angel."
You shook your head, a shiver running through you when he started kissing your neck, his lips soft on your heated skin.
"Come on, you can do it. What do you think you deserve, baby?"
You took a deep breath, eyes closing, his strong hands rubbing your thighs.
"A-anything I want," you whispered.
"Yeah, that's right. You deserve anything you fucking want, angel."
The tip of his cock nudged your entrance. The feeling of your walls trying to suck him in made him suppress a shudder, but he didn't let up, sliding one hand under your shirt.
"And why do you deserve anything you want, hm?"
He circled your nipple with the pad of his finger, feeling it harden instantly under the touch. As if to motivate you, he pushed in a few inches deeper, stretching you out slowly.
"Because I'm- because-"
Another inch forward, his hips pushing closer to your ass.
"Because?" He coaxed, wrapping his entire hand around your breast to fondle it.
"Because I'm your good girl," you whimpered. "Please."
Jungkook slid all the way in, teeth biting gently into your throat, strong arms enveloping your frame. A low moan left him as your pussy clenched around his cock, pulsing and leaking.
"Mhm," he breathed out slowly, wasting no time in setting up a rhythm, his thrusts starting off hard and deep, pushing you into the seat. "Tell me more."
He didn't care if you had trouble speaking, or if he had to fuck you and edge you all night to hear what he wanted. You knew that by now, because as much as you struggled to answer him, you didn't hold back like you have before, even if your skin burned with embarrassment.
"Be-because I'm your pretty baby," you moaned. "Please, faster."
Jungkook provided you with just that, lewd, smacking sounds beginning to mingle with your soft whines and his deep, breathless groans.
"Yeah, that's right, look what a smart, good girl I have here. Fuck, you're so tight. Missed this perfect pussy so fucking much, fuck."
The last word came out as a grunt. No, a growl, something more feral spreading through his veins, making his cock ache as he fucked you.
"You wanna come?" His breath tickled your ear, voice raspy, arms tightening around you possessively. "Tell me. Want me to ruin your little cunt?"
You only whined in response. Jungkook knew you like the back of his hand, and oh, there was no doubt left in him that you were on the verge of giving in, and letting go of the shame that used to hold you back. After all, you were his one and only. After all, what did it matter if your parents were married? Nothing. To him it meant nothing but an obstacle he was ready to crush. For his own, selfish desires of having you, as well as for the impulse that made him want to destroy anything that caused your inner turmoil.
There was no mercy left in him either, his cock pounding you faster, balls tightening with every thrust.
"Please, please, please," you mewled. "Please, Jungkook!"
He gritted his teeth.
"Say it first, baby. Fucking say it or I'll stop right now."
You shook your head weakly, groaning.
"No! Please, I want to come. Make me come."
With a strangled moan, he sneaked his hand in between your legs, pressing into your swollen clit.
"Yeah? You wanna come? My pretty little baby is gonna fall apart on this cock like a good slut? Yeah?"
He could see stars explode behind his eyelids when your cunt convulsed around him, his jaw set tight, glistening with sweat. The way you moaned his name made his stomach twist, his cum shooting deep inside of you and painting your walls white. It felt hot, wet and messy, his hips grinding into yours unsteadily, his body tingling from head to toe.
He held you close to him, not knowing how else to satisfy his endless cravings, nor how to silence the constant demands of his bleeding heart. It always called out for you.
Maybe you weren't a good girl, not in the eyes of society, or your parents. Even though they knew nothing about this little secret, it was almost impossible to please them, no grade or job ever seeming good enough. And Jungkook couldn't replace the acceptance he knew you craved from them, but he could fill you up with his own love, and continue to fuck your anxieties out of you. Maybe you weren't a good girl, but-
"What are you, angel?" He whispered into your neck, his body slumped against yours, knees numb from being pressed into the seat for too long, his cock still buried inside you.
"Your good girl," you sighed again, the words stumbling out with more ease, almost absentminded.
Jungkook smiled, pressing a kiss into your shoulder.
"Yeah. My good girl."
Another kiss, then one more, tender and sweet.
"My good, little angel."
That was all you needed to remember.
💌 taglist: @imnotlauriane @baalsgurl1913 @bucketofhiros @silv3rswirls @osakis-gf
probably when they first talked about their future together like getting married or having kids :(
our beloved summer; a drabble
Jungkook hugs you to his chest as you both sit on his couch, lazily watching Nabi - his niece - play with her toys on the floor. Jungkook's cousin and his wife are in the city for the weekend to celebrate their wedding anniversary. Tonight, as they sneak off for a romantic anniversary dinner, babysitting duty falls onto you and Jungkook.
You let your eyes drift close, listening to the steady beat of his heart and Nabi's soft humming as she entertains herself. It's so comfortable. You could fall asleep like this.
Jungkook nudges your cheek with his nose after a while, maneuvering his head so he can speak into your ear. "I think I want at least 3 kids," he says.
You open your eyes, letting them readjust to the warm lighting of the room before you answer him. "In this economy? Good luck, bud."
He pinches your waist lightly and makes you squirm with a squeak. Nabi pays no attention to you, too preoccupied with the task of dressing her dolls. "You're no fun," Jungkook mutters. "How many kids do you want?"
You consider this for a minute. Sure, you think about it from time to time - it being having a family of your own. Yours and Jungkook's. All because he keeps calling his mom your future mother-in-law. For fun, of course. You both know this. In fact, you like thinking about it. It's unlike you to get all sappy and sentimental about things, but it's somewhat comforting to fantasize about building a home, a future with him. It can't hurt to daydream a little.
"Ideally, two. A boy and a girl," you say. "Realistically? I'm not sure if I'll even have children."
"What? Why? I thought you love kids."
You do your best to shrug, with him holding you like this. You watch Nabi with her little ponytail and chubby cheeks, rainbow socks and sparkly hair pins. "I love kids," you agree, but your next words and how you say them so evenly, so casually, tells Jungkook that while you may go along with his stupid shenanigans and happily play house with him, you know when to stop dreaming. It sounds like a thought you've been holding onto for a long time now. "But every parent fucks up their child. Even if they don't mean to."
You both grow quiet. There's no change in your facial expression, no stiffness in your body as you rest against Jungkook. There's not even a flicker of sadness in your eyes, or maybe it's always been there and he hasn't realized how deeply rooted it is until now. The calmness in your voice as you said it, like you were just talking about the weather, makes him want to cry for some reason.
Jungkook doesn't know what to say, so he just leaves it at that. He cracks a stupid joke just to make you laugh, something about Hoseok's freshly dyed red hair and how it makes his head look like an heirloom tomato from far away. Despite your words ringing in his head and the way they dampen his waterline, he watches you watch Nabi with gentle eyes and a fond smile.
Jungkook doesn't hope to piece you back together, because you’re not broken. You’re just a person carrying a world of hurt. If anything, he just wants to take some of that weight off your shoulders, let you know that he’s here.
So, even with a million things running through his mind, he squeezes you a little tighter and holds you a little closer. Jungkook is with you, and he loves you.
lost and found. (5)
⇢ pairing: bts x fem!reader
⇢ weasel!jin, jaguar!yoongi, bloodhound!hoseok, black panther!Namjoon, arctic fox!Jimin, bear!Taehyung, wolf!jungkook
⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff
⇢ word count: 2.4k
⇢ warnings: bad weather, taehyung having a mini breakdown but its not talked about really.
⇢ summary: from bad ingrained thoughts, to waffles, to lanterns? Who knew such words could be used together and happen in the span of two hours. You don't know much about the hybrids yet but you do know that Tony? Yeah he can go to hell.
Hiii guys! I disappeared ik ik, I'm so sorry for that but it may happen again lmaoo but i'll still try to pop in and write as much as i can! Here's chapter 5 of lost and found finally wooo! I hope you enjoy it and I hope you hate Tony as much as me hehe. also i haven't been on here in a while so i hope i added everyone to the taglist! as always reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated! <3
It's a little over 9 in the morning and usually you would have brushed your teeth and freshened up but you just lay there not wanting to get up. Usually the window doesn't keep you up that much but that plus your racing thoughts resulted in you not sleeping great. That's been a recurring thing though. You do your morning routine and decide with the chill in the house to put on a hoodie.
You look out the window to see that despite hoping the weather would get better it definitely got worse. You don't even know how that's possible with how bad it was yesterday.
Walking out of your door quietly not wanting to wake them up you walk to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. When your friend Jihyo came to visit with her shiba-inu hybrid sana, she gave you this new coffee to try out. Infused with vanilla and other flavoring. You smile at the memory because that day Sana was so happy to see you. She couldn't stop scenting you, rubbing her head against your shoulder and hugging you tight.
it was so endearing, you can't wait till they come back to visit, it's been a while. You make yourself a cup of coffee and head over to the reclining chair. Turning on the TV to see what was on, you decide to watch the news to see what's up with the weather right now and see any predictions. You click it and at first the guy is just talking about the new hybrid sanctuary that opened up in the opposite direction of the shelter. There's a difference between the two.
A shelter is more likely to be a bit smaller than a sanctuary and the adoption cost and process is very different, cheaper and looser. You hate that you have to use words like “cost” to describe a person. It just feels degrading like it shouldn't be that way. On the flip side sanctuaries tend to hold more hybrids and different kinds too. They are always larger than shelters, people think sanctuaries are better than shelters because of their appearance.
It looks more “expensive”, people also believe that because it looks nice that the treatment is excellent. You know better than that, just because something looks nice doesn't mean it is. You know how either place could hold discrimination and abuse. Hybrid facilities still need a bit of work but not all are bad like the one sana came from ‘blue lights’. It was a smaller sanctuary but the workers and environment were very nice and laid back.
You listen to the details when suddenly you hear feet shuffling to your left and look up to see a sleepy jimin. Cheeks puffy and hair sticking out everywhere you can't help but wanna squish him. He looks so cute. “Good morning jimin.'' you say smiling as he yawns while stretching his tummy peeking out from the stretch. “Morning y/n” he says tiredly. Before you know one by one they all are eventually up.
You greet them all but get either a grunt, a smile, a nod or no response at all. You go to look back at the tv, seeing they are now talking about gas prices. You see that they are all still just standing. “Why are you just standing?” you ask confused.
Jin looks at you mirroring your confusion. “Hybrids aren't allowed on the furniture” he states as if that's a rule that you should know. You feel yourself getting angry. Is this another thing their owner taught and told them? Told them they can't sit on furniture? Did they have to stand around all day when they were there?
“Who said that? Actually nevermind whoever did can rot. You're allowed to sit wherever you want. Here, on the floor, in the kitchen, hell if you want to you could sit on the roof. So sit wherever you find comfortable cause I know standing isn't ” they just look at you and don't move, not believing you. Namjoon is a bit shocked with how you're being so casual about them sitting on your furniture.
He…he’s never been told or even been offered to sit on the furniture. He knows better though, knows that if they act on what you said that you'd instantly yell at them and laugh in their face for even thinking you meant what you said. So he doesn't budge and neither does his pack.
You were about to say something when something on the tv caught your ear “and for the next three days the weather will stay as rainy and windy as it is. The forecast says it might even get worse these coming days. With the high winds we are being on a tornado watch until further notice. There aren't any signs of hurricanes but we'll be on the lookout. We advise everyone to stay in doors as much as you can. Stay safe everyone. Now back to how the senate has ord…” you stop listening at the end.
You probably shouldn't keep pushing about the standing thing but you really don't want him to feel as if that’s something that everyone thinks, something that should be allowed. So instead of bringing it up you decide to move onto something you could maybe all enjoy.
“Does anyone want some coffee?” you say as your eyes automatically drift to yoongi. He isn't looking at you but at Namjoon. “Were about to leave.'' you whip your head to him eyes wide “namjoon you can't be serious, did you not just hear about the weather predictions? It's so unsafe.'' It's not your place you know but you can't help but try and convince him that no, they shouldn't go out in this weather.
The weather seems to be a recurring object in both of your roads. How it keeps making them stuck with you and making you stick with them. Though in your case you don't mind having them around. “We’ll be fine i..i can handle it.'' Your heart breaks at those words. Hearing Namjoon believe that he can take on harsh weather for his pack makes you think what other hardships he's taken on alone.
You know Namjoon must be a leader of some sort, a protector but he should know that this isn't a good idea. That this isn’t protecting, he can lean on you even if he doesn't know or feel that yet. You stare at him as if he's gained three heads. “Namjoon there’s literally a possibility for a tornado any day now and as strong as you are, you can't beat a tornado. You would be asking for something bad to happen. If you don't want to stay here fine but you at least need to know a safe place you can stay.” you cross your hands over your chest.
Namjoon knows you're right but he'd rather risk being hurt by something like that then be hurt by someone again. He doesn't want any of them to feel like that, go through that. To rely on someone for even a minute, to show even a bit of weakness was always taught to him to be wrong. Tony would yell at Namjoon, put him outside in weather such as this and he hated the thought of his pack even being in slightly bad weather.
He won't admit it but he doesn't want to go out into this kind of weather. He would rather his pack be somewhere safe and as much as he hates to say it you're the only place he could consider safe. Though it's scary to put your presence in the walls of someone who could crush them, he doesn't argue. He just walks back into the room.
You watch Namjoon walk to their room with an expression that reminds you of one you wear at times. One where your mind tends to think that what we are doing is being weak and it breaks your heart. You look back to the hybrids to see them staring at you. You don't know if they are angry at you because namjoon went to the room or if they are waiting for you to do something so you decide that food, food will make everyone feel a bit better right now.
“Do one of you mind asking Namjoon if he wants waffles?” Jungkook is looking at you with a scowl but nonetheless goes to ask Namjoon. You smile to yourself as you're mixing the batter. It's been a long time since you've made waffles as you don't eat them often. You look back and find that they all are in the room now. You sigh as you cut up some fruit, hopefully a full belly will make namjoon lighten up. You put the plate of cut fruits and the bottles of two different kinds of syrup in the middle of the table.
“Guys it's done!” you yell out hoping they heard you. Luckily they did and they are coming out of the room but with what looks like frowns. Perhaps the feelings of vulnerability aren't as easy as people make it out to be, especially for those who have been hurt by acting in such a feeling. You continue to add waffles to their plates and put them in front of each seat.
“I cut up fruits and have two different kinds of syrups, if you would like meat like bacon or something I can cook that too.” you say looking up just to find eyes wide at the table. No one moves and you're starting to feel like maybe you did something wrong. “Are waffles good?” Taehyung asks you while still focusing on the table, “mhmm they're soft yet firmer than pancakes if you make them right” you tell him with a smile.
He makes a sound and goes to sit down but halts when he hears a growl. Nothing too scary, just a warning you assume. “Taehyu-” “namjoon please let him sit down and eat. I want all of you to. I promise there's no ulterior motive and I'm not going to do anything. I just want you guys to have a meal and sit down while you enjoy it. i'll even leave the room for you if that's what you want but please take a second to eat.'' Namjoon looks at you and is about to say something but stops upon seeing your face. Your voice is full of scientry and face full of desperation.
You are literally begging him to eat and it feels weird to him. Someone seeming to care enough to make sure they eat is new. New because no one has ever voluntarily out of the kindness of their heart gave food to them. Plated food with options, plated food that held warmth. He wants to object to tell you no but he can't find it in himself to, so he nods his head and sits down.
Maybe he's tired of fighting himself today or maybe these new actions that he's receiving are throwing him off. You smile at that, finally seeming to get through to him. They all eventually sit down and you watch for a second subtly so you don't seem creepy but your heart feels full at the sight of them eating something. You noticed that namjoon nodded at your statement so you best take yours to your room.
Grabbing your plate and cup of coffee you go to walk to the room. “Where are you going?” you hear jungkook say. You look at him confused because you assumed they all got namjoon's message “to my room, i want you guys to feel comfortable while eating” you say, going to walk away “i never said you couldn't eat in here with us.” you hear namjoon say. You look back to see he's not looking at you, almost shy at his words.
Well if you can stay, why not? “Okay.” you go to sit at the end of the table and you find yoongi looking at your drink, your coffee to be exact. You laugh “want one?” he just looks away. Maybe he doesn't? You've been a bit pushy today so you best not do more. You all eat in silence for a while just the sound of the rain hitting the roof and the winds moving the trees. “These are really good by the way y/n '' jimin says happily “yeah i've never had them before” you hear jin say quietly.
You gape at that, these men have never had waffles? Warm little squared waffles? You almost want to ask how have they never had it but you know better than to keep meddling. “Well I'm glad I got to make you some and that you like them!” The rest of breakfast goes by quickly and silently. You feel Namjoon's eyes flicking to you but you don't want to look back and make him feel like you're challenging him to something he may be thinking you are.
Once everyone's done you tell them to put their dishes in the sink so you can wash them. Jin tries to tell you he'll wash them but you reject his offer softly but thank him for it. Humming a tune to a song you heard a few days ago you suddenly hear a call of your name. You turn back to see its namjoon waiting behind you. “Wassup?” you ask, whatever he must have wanted to say suddenly gets stuck in his throat because he just stares at you.
Like hard, you don't know what to do so you just go back to washing dishes. “I have a favor to ask of you.” you perk up at that wanting to help in any way you can. “Of course, what is it?” he clears his throat “um i would like to know how to make waffles. I know it sounds weird and I've never cooked before but I would, I don't know but I-” you can't help the giggle that comes out and when the noise fills the air namjoon glares at you.
He goes to walk away “Hold on big guy i'm not laughing at you i'm laughing out of endearment. It's nice that you want to learn something new. We all have to learn stuff to keep growing so don't feel too shy about it. Also it's fine i'm not the best cook but i manage so you got this. I'll write it down later, yeah?” His gaze softens and he slowly nods. You smile and turn back to wash the last few dishes but you notice he is still standing there.
You decide to let him figure out what he wants to say “and um i guess i would like to say i app-” before namjoon can finish what he's about to say, the lights go out. Dammit with the weather being this way and having such strong winds the electricity is bound to go out. You're about to reassure Namjoon that you might have a generator but he's gone before you can.
You no longer feel his presence and that may be because of the distress you hear. Nothing loud and nothing even eerie but it's a scream in a way of remembrance and pain. As if walls with no color and a room with no hue scares them. You follow the sound to hear namjoon whispering something. “Taehyung it's fine, it's just the lights going out, i promise they'll come back on soon.” The reassurance namjoon tries to provide doesn't work as taehyung must be in a trance muttering things like “no''
as well as something that made your heart drop. “tony makes it dark when im bad joonie, was i bad?” Through your feelings you still try to find a solution. Looking for a lantern with your phone light. You would think having a lantern would be an odd thing in the 20th century but it's still very much useful and needed especially when you live where you do.
You go to the drawers in your room and get the matches, lighting up three small unscented candles and place them in the lanterns. You rush to take one to Namjoon. “Here’s some light.” you put it near taehyung and he looks at it. “Taehyung i hope this can help for a bit, i'll try to get the lights working soon okay?” he doesn't answer you, his eyes shining with a sheen of tears that have yet to fall. You're about to go get the other lanterns but he grabs you.
“Can…can you stay right here please?” Taehyung asks you quietly. You're confused on why he wants you to stay near but regardless of that you nod and stay by him. You ask one of them if they'd go get the other lanterns and put them in the most important areas for now. You dont know why the lights being off scares taehyung but all you do know is fuck tony.
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𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 || 𝐤. 𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: just some headcanons n blurbs about how good jin would be to you🥰
genre: fluff fest!!
warnings/notes: mildly suggestive, plus-sized, soft-bodied reader, descriptions of a plus-sized body
pronouns: none used
a/n: this is basically me ranting abt how good a boyfriend kim seokjin must be. can you guys tell that I’m hyung-line biased?
Seokjin is the type to spend hours playing video games, but not without you settled in his lap first.
You both know that when he games, he games. It’s easy for him to get sucked into the world of whatever game he’s playing for hours, so having you nestled into the curve of his neck is a way of making sure he’s not neglecting you, and it also provides Seokjin a grappling hook back into the real world. Your soft breaths serve reminders against his skin, sweetly coaxing him down to Earth. And even when he returns, eyelids worn heavy with blue light and legs near numb from the lack of movement, he can’t bear the thought of disturbing your slumber. The plentifulness of you pressed against the contours of his torso, soft and thick arms clinging to his broad shoulders and the padding of your cheek resting against his collarbone, it’s too good. His hand glides up and down the curves of your backside until you stir awake and smile knowingly, all before standing and dragging him into your bed.
Jin is an incredibly mindful and attentive boyfriend.
Seokjin remembers almost every little detail about you, and it would be creepy if he wasn’t your boyfriend. From the details of your coffee order to the smell of your conditioner, he’s got all of you burned into every crevice of his mind. He can’t help but want to know everything about you. He’s healthily, and respectfully, obsessed.
Wrapping his arms around your plump waist as you brew your coffee a lazy Sunday morning, he kisses your temple before speaking close to your ear. “We’re out of vanilla creamer. I know you’re not drinking that coffee without it.”
“Wha-” you turn in his arms, almost offended. “How did you- well, what if I wanted to try something different today?”
He snorts. There’s no way, the image of your contorted features after tasting black coffee for the first time projected onto his memory. “You didn’t. It’s okay, I just ordered more creamer and it’ll be delivered by Tuesday.”
And you just smile, because he’s unreal.
I’m certain he must be the most caring boyfriend in the world.
Seokjin is the type to rub the knot out of your shoulder after a long day, the type to kiss the cut on your finger after you were careless with the kitchen knives, the type to hold a firm arm around your waist as he guides you through crowded areas.
“Ah, seriously.” Jin releases a sigh. The bandage is secure around your finger, but Jin inspects it just to make sure. “You have to use arched fingers when cutting vegetables like that, y/n.”
He could destroy the cucumber that did this to you.
“I know,” you pout. A brief lapse of judgment, and now you sit on your bathroom counter as your boyfriend bandages the evidence.
Seokjin plants a sweet kiss to the tip of your throbbing finger, and then another to your lips.
“Strictly butter knives for the next two weeks.”
Intimate touches are common between the two of you.
I wouldn’t say that physical touch is Jin’s primary love language, but it’s a close second to acts of service. He savors the feeling of his plush lips to your warm skin through sweet kisses pressed softly to your hairline or to your palm, easing you through your nerves. He just prefers feeling you close, having you connected to him with his hand caged around yours while you walk through a local park. He wants to make you feel good, make you feel wanted, his fingertips ghosting the skin of your soft tummy as he lifts your shirt above your head.
Falling under the category of intimacy, his favorite kisses are warm and deep, loving and so tender that it makes you feel as fragile as a dandelion.
Seokjin kisses you with the care of someone who doesn’t want to break you, doesn’t want to accidentally blow away all of your seeds with a breath too heavy. His plump lips are clouds of soft pink velvet against yours, sending bolts of lightning shooting down your spine and awakening the butterflies in your abdomen. You tug at his lip with a desperate need. In response he groans and kisses you deeper than imaginable, tilting his head to fit your bottom lip between his, enveloping you. You’re overcome with the smell of him, the taste of him and the feel of him, that it feels like your entire world becomes Kim Seokjin, his palm against your soft jaw keeping you from melting to the floor.
copyright © 2022 lavenjoon | all rights reserved. do not copy or translate any of my work.
— the one where you are jimin’s favourite, even if you leave him with a cold bed.
↳ alternatively pancakes are not your forte, but you’d do many things to see park jimin smile.
↳ genre fluff / wc - approx. 0.5k
↳ warnings gn!reader / food (pancakes) / i was craving pancakes and this happened LMAO
↳ perm taglist @forpunishers @junsai-tree @chimchimmarie @luaspersona @sugarwithtea @jenrecs @hobigoo @m1sss1mp @minniesvenus @softbobamilktae @starlight-1010 @wittyreader @swinterr [ send an ask/dm to be added or removed! ]
↳ psa that this is neither edited nor proofread bc i am so tired and also my wifi stopped working while i was writing the drabble i actually wanted to post,, and long story short i lost the one i was working on and so i wrote this in 15 mins i am so tired god bless
the bed is cold when jimin wakes, and that's what puts a frown on his face. it's the weekend, which usually means he wakes up to you burrowed into his side, legs entangled with his like you're trying to climb on top of him. (on more than one occasion, you've been known to have an elbow in his face. and he has the pictures to prove it.)
he feels around for you, eyes still closed, and when he's met with nothing but crumpled sheets, he lets out a disappointed sigh, before reluctantly rolling out of bed. he has one mission: find you and bring you back to bed immediately. the moment he steps out the bedroom, he hears you humming to yourself in the kitchen, and sure enough, when he pads into the room, you’re bobbing your head up and down to whatever nonsense tune you’ve made up as you mix something up.
until you see him, and your smile drops. “no!”
jimin blinks. that is not the reaction he usually gets from you, but before he can even open his mouth, you’re ushering him backwards. “go back to bed!”
“wh — i don’t want to!” jimin denies, baffled. “it’s cold without you.”
“hug a plushie,” you say mercilessly, trying to push him back inside. “go! back!” the syllables are punctuated with gentle shoves towards the bedroom, but jimin digs his heels in and refuses to budge.
“i don’t want a plushie, i want you,” he whines, trying to wrap you into his arms.
you wriggle away. “i’m trying to make you breakfast in bed, and i can’t make you breakfast in bed unless you’re in the bed!” you explain, equally petulant.
jimin softens. “you’re making me breakfast?”
“in bed,” you add for emphasis, nodding. “pancakes!”
you must see his doubtful expression, because you’re reassuring him in an instant. “they’ll be better than last time, i swear it. jin’s girlfriend taught me a recipe!”
the very first time you’d stayed at jimin’s house, months and months ago, you’d tried to make him pancakes — they’d been awful, and jimin had force-fed himself four bites before you even took your first, nodding and smiling when you asked how they were. the moment you tasted it yourself, you spat it into the sink — the two of you ended up ordering in.
“baby, you burnt yourself last time,” he says, concerned. “are you sure y— ”
“go! back! to! bed!”
it’s not long after jimin has settled down with his phone that he hears your voice on the other side of the door. “jimin, can you get the door for me?”
he reaches over and tugs at the handle, swinging open the door so you can come in, in all your pancake-bearing glory. you beam at him proudly, and set the tray on the nightstand, but before you can reach over and hand him a plate, he’s tugging you onto the bed and straight into his lap, burying his face in your neck with a sigh. “there we go,” he mumbles, satisfied at last. “thank you for the breakfast, baby.”
you twist to press a soft kiss onto his cheek. “s’okay. you deserve a rest, after the hell week you just had.”
realisation dawns on jimin — this is why you were so insistent that you do this for him. “you’re my favourite,” he says, hugging you closer to him, nosing into you neck and kissing up your throat. “god. my absolute favourite.”
“pancakes are my favourite,” you retort immediately, reaching for them. “can we eat now?”
“they’re completely ass.”
“well — i wouldn’t say ass…”
“i would. they’re ass and i apologise for making them. can we order in?”
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