The Little Things [Yoongi x Reader]
⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq
⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Slice of Life | One Shot
⟶ Warnings: pwp, boyfriend!au, multiple orgasms, domestic bliss, oral (f), small tit play, cockring, unprotected sex (wrap before tap please), fondling, small bulge kink, creampie, etc
⟶ WC: 5.4k+
⟶ Summary: When the present isn’t exactly enough for you right now, Yoongi is here for you through it all. He makes sure you know you aren’t alone and that it’s ok to feel alone.
⟶ Beta: To the amazing and talented @kithtaehyung, thank you so much for betaing my fic!
⟶ Teaser: “His voice comes out raspy as if it’s dry for water. Yoongi’s head tilts to the side, eyes closed, taking pleasure in his body’s current state while his hands continue to graze your skin.“
⟶ Author’s Note: Hello all! This fic features a complete domesticated, fluff of life. It appeared to me randomly (the idea) as I was in a slump for writing. But, I was excited to write something simple like this for people who enjoy comfort and potential relatable scenarios. 💡 Sometimes motivation is not there to finish a project, and that’s ok. Just like how sometimes people feel lonely, and that, too, is ok.
summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.”
tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT
warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :)
wc: 10.3k
i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga
“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.
“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”
College AU | Fuckboy Jungkook x Physics Student Y/N
“The universe tends toward chaos.” You thought that only applied to black holes and entropy equations — not boys with lip rings and midnight eyes. You were wrong.
genre: smut, one-shot, college AU, fuckboy!jungkook, explicit sexual content, strong language, alcohol consumption, casual hookup, reader is sexually inexperienced but very willing, Jungkook is fully feral and obsessed
Wc: 10k
author's note: there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)
your feedback means the world to me. 🖤
The second law of thermodynamics states that the universe naturally tends toward disorder. That every system, left to its own devices, will eventually fall apart.
You never thought that applied to people.
By the third week of finals season, everything starts to decay.
Not in any spectacular, cinematic way—no dramatic breakdowns in the hallway or rain-soaked monologues—but in smaller, quieter disintegrations. You begin to lose the will to care whether your iced coffee is more milk than caffeine. Your drawers become a graveyard of crumpled hoodies and socks that don’t match. Your planner, once color-coded with obsessive devotion, now lies somewhere under your bed, abandoned and blank.
Entropy, you think. The tendency of systems to slide into disorder. You remember the diagram from second-year thermodynamics: the universe’s cruel, inevitable drift toward chaos. You’d once found peace in it. A kind of comfort, knowing it wasn’t your fault when things fell apart. It was just nature.
These days, you’re not so sure.
You stand in front of the mirror in your dorm’s bathroom, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth, hair piled into a loose, too-honest bun that makes your ears look uneven. You’ve been wearing the same oversized MIT hoodie for three days straight. Not because it means anything to you—you didn’t even apply there—but because it smells like clean laundry and covers the fact that your bra is somewhere inside a laundry basket you no longer have the energy to dig through.
You look exhausted. Not dramatically so, but in the way that makes people hesitate before asking you for anything. You’ve started getting that look in the lab, in lectures, even from your professors: the quiet, pitying glance that says, You’re doing too much, and it’s starting to show.
And still, you keep doing it.
Physics doesn’t reward soft emotions. It rewards answers. You know how to calculate momentum, how to model projectile motion, how to explain wave-particle duality to a room full of distracted undergrads—but you don’t know how to mourn something that was never truly yours. You don’t know how to feel cleanly. You only know how to function.
You open the bathroom cabinet, close it again, stare blankly at your own reflection. Your eyes are ringed in fatigue. Your lips are chapped. Your last kiss was over a month ago and didn’t even taste like goodbye.
You don’t miss him. Not really. He was nice. Predictable. Gentle. He always held your hand like he was asking permission. But the moment he ended it—voice calm, like he was discussing his meal plan—you didn’t feel heartbreak. You felt relief.
And maybe that’s worse.
Your phone buzzes on the sink. You glance down and see Hyeri’s name.
Hyeri: I swear to god if you ghost me I’m breaking into your room.Hyeri: Put on a dress. He’s throwing a party.You: Who.Hyeri: Jeon fucking Jungkook.You: No thanks.
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard.
There it is—that name again. A name that lives in the background of your life like ambient noise. Jeon Jungkook: a boy you’ve never actually spoken to, but whose existence seems to follow you in ways you can’t explain. Shared classes. Group projects. Dorm parties where he arrived shirtless and left with a girl on his arm. Mutual friends who describe him with exasperated fondness. A smirk that belongs on someone far less academically average.
You’ve never had a reason to care about him. Not really. Except for that one night at the start of second year, when you sat across from him at a friend-of-a-friend’s birthday and watched him lick whipped cream off his thumb while explaining something about SEO strategy. You’d gone home that night and googled what the hell SEO actually was.
You’d forgotten about him after that. Or tried to.
Until your best friend started playing matchmaker in group chats you weren’t in. Until the campus gossip pages kept posting blurry photos of his arms. Until his name started appearing in conversations he wasn’t even part of, and every girl said the same thing:
Jeon Jungkook fucks like it’s a contact sport.
And maybe, for a fraction of a second, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like to be tackled.
But then you went back to your labs. Your simulations. Your notes.
You buried the thought under coursework and logic and neat, contained systems.
Hyeri: Come. Please. One drink. One dance. You’re not allowed to rot in that hoodie forever.
You chew your lip. Look down at the hoodie.
Then at yourself.
Then at the door.
Maybe it’s not about Jungkook. Maybe it’s not even about your ex.
Maybe it’s just… time.
Time to feel something before summer eats the rest of you whole.
You sigh.
You: Fine. But if it’s weird, I’m faking a panic attack and leaving.
✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*
You don’t know when the universe started to unravel.
Maybe it was the breakup. Maybe it was that lab partner who kept messing up your simulations. Maybe it was all the times you sat through lectures with tears threatening at the corners of your eyes and no one noticing, not even once. But tonight, it feels like something bigger. Like the universe itself has decided to press its thumb against your spine and push.
Entropy. Chaos. Heat death.
The natural end of all things.
And what are you doing? Curling your lashes. Half-heartedly, as if mascara could fix the hollowness behind your eyes. You haven’t dressed up in weeks. You barely recognize yourself in the mirror.
Hyeri’s outside your door, already half-drunk, yelling through the crack like she owns the world. “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m breaking in and dressing you myself!”
You shout back a profanity, then drop your towel and step into the dress she brought you.
It wasn’t made for physics students. That much is clear.
It’s navy satin, too short to be safe and too tight to be responsible. The neckline dips like a threat, the fabric clings like it knows something you don’t. You smooth it down your sides, catching your reflection by accident — and then not looking away.
Your hair’s still wet from the world’s fastest shower. You didn’t bother with foundation. Just a bit of liner, a swipe of something sheer on your lips. You look like someone you don’t quite know. Someone who might dance. Someone who might say yes to something reckless.
The zipper sticks halfway up your back, and when you reach to fix it, a strand of hair slips free and falls across your face. You look messy. Unpolished. A little chaotic.
You almost laugh.
Maybe you finally match the universe.
There’s a knock at the door. “I swear to god, Y/N—”
You open it before she can finish, and Hyeri shuts up mid-rant.
“Holy shit,” she breathes.
You grab your bag. “Don’t say anything.”
“Okay,” she says, eyes wide, “but if Jungkook doesn’t try to kiss you tonight, I’m checking him for a concussion.”
You roll your eyes, but something in your stomach flickers — a sudden, sharp awareness of your own body. Of skin against satin. Of the air against the backs of your thighs as you walk.
You ignore it.
You follow Hyeri down the stairs, into the Uber, into the night.
The city feels different somehow. Summer’s here, but it hasn’t settled. The air’s heavy but not warm, like it’s holding its breath. Like the universe is still deciding what kind of chaos it wants to be tonight.
And maybe, for once, you’re not here to resist it.
✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*
You smell the party before you hear it.
It’s not unpleasant — not the kind of sour, suffocating stink of undergrad dorm parties you’ve long since grown out of. No, this one smells like summer. Like too-sweet alcohol and chlorine and night air that clings to bare shoulders. There’s music, loud enough to rattle the pavement beneath your heels, bass bleeding through windows too big to hide the chaos inside.
Jungkook’s house is exactly what you’d expect from a rich boy with too many friends and too little restraint. Modern, massive, perched on a hill just far enough from campus to feel forbidden. The front door’s already wide open. People flow in and out like blood through a vein. Someone’s laughing on the porch. Someone else is making out against the railing. You pause before going in.
Hyeri’s already halfway up the steps, turning back when she notices you hesitate. “Don’t look like you’re here to study. Shoulders back. Chin up. You look hot as hell.”
You follow her inside.
The temperature rises immediately. The music hits your chest in waves, something fast and rhythmic that people pretend they know the words to. There’s a sheen of sweat on everyone’s skin, cups half-empty and already sticky with fingerprints. Lights pulse in warm golds and deep reds, designed to make everyone look better than they are.
You keep your eyes low at first, weaving through bodies, careful not to bump into anyone. You’re not used to being seen. Not like this. Not in something this tight, this short. You feel the way the fabric pulls across your hips, how it shifts with each step. You’re suddenly aware of the line of your thighs, the exposed stretch of your back.
And then you feel it.
Eyes.
Heavy, deliberate.
You look up.
And there he is.
Jeon Jungkook.
Slouched on the arm of an expensive couch, drink in one hand, tattooed fingers curled around plastic like they’ve never had to hold anything heavier. He’s wearing a black button-up — open halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows — and a pair of dark jeans that might as well be a crime. His lip ring catches the light when he smirks at something one of his friends says, and his head tilts just slightly—
—because he’s looking at you.
You almost miss it, the way the smirk dies and reforms into something slower. Sharper. His gaze lingers, dips — not in a crude, hungry way, but in a way that makes you feel scanned. Like he’s logging every inch of skin, every tilt of your body, every second you hold eye contact.
He doesn’t smile.
Not yet.
But he doesn’t stop looking.
Hyeri doesn’t notice. She’s already pulling you into the kitchen, rambling about shots and mixers and “hydrating between drinks, you nerd.” But you feel him. Even with your back turned. Even through the noise and heat and press of strangers, you know exactly where he is in the room.
You try to shake it off.
The kitchen is a mess of solo cups, liquor bottles, and fruit that’s been soaking in something far too potent. You grab a drink just to have something to hold. Cold plastic. Fake safety. You press the rim to your lips and taste cherry, vodka, and regret.
“Come dance,” Hyeri yells over the music, already grabbing your hand.
You hesitate.
And then, from across the room — heat again. A pulse.
You glance back once.
He’s standing now.
Still holding his drink. Still watching.
And this time, when your eyes meet, he smiles.
Not the cocky kind. Not the I’ve-done-this-before kind.
Something slower. Curious. Possessive.
Like he knows something you don’t.
Like the universe just chose its form of chaos.
✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*
You lose Hyeri somewhere between the kitchen and the music.
She disappears into the haze of bodies with the kind of confidence you’ve never been able to fake—throwing her arms around someone you don’t recognize, laughing too loudly, swaying like she’s part of the beat itself. The living room’s been cleared just enough to form a makeshift dance floor, though calling it that feels generous. It’s a swarm. Sweaty, uncoordinated, pulsing with bass and alcohol.
You hover at the edge for a moment, half-expecting yourself to turn back. But your feet don’t move. You feel warm. Lightheaded. A little less real with every second. And you know, before you even look again, that he’s still there.
He doesn’t approach like he’s chasing something. He approaches like he’s already caught it.
You feel him before you see him—something magnetic pulling at the corner of your awareness. Then you turn your head, and he’s suddenly beside you, crowding your space without brushing you once. His shirt clings to the lines of his chest. His breath smells faintly of whiskey and mint.
“Didn’t know physics majors danced,” he murmurs, not loud but close enough that the words slide against your neck.
You don’t flinch. “Didn’t know business majors could form full sentences.”
That earns a laugh. Low. A little sharp. He doesn’t look away.
The song shifts, something slower, bass-heavy, almost liquid in the way it pours over the crowd. His hand doesn’t touch you—not yet—but you feel his presence pressing in, daring you to move first.
“You wanna?” he asks, a single word softened by the tilt of his mouth. It’s not polite. Not romantic. But his tone says he already knows the answer.
You shouldn’t.
But then—nothing about tonight has followed the laws of reason.
You nod once.
He steps behind you.
There’s no gap between your bodies. He doesn’t ask permission again. His hands find your hips with casual precision, thumbs brushing the sliver of bare skin between your dress and thighs. It’s not obscene. Not quite. But it’s enough to make your spine stiffen, your breath catch.
You move.
Not with practiced rhythm, but instinct. Letting the music pull your limbs into motion. You’re aware of the weight of his hands, the subtle pull of his grip guiding your pace, the heat radiating off his chest behind you. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. Everything he wants to say is in the way he holds you—like he’s marking you.
His lips graze your ear.
“You’re not what I expected.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. It’s softer. Lower. Coated in heat.
“I don’t know,” he says. “You just… move like you’ve been pretending not to want this.”
You lean back—not into him, not quite. Just enough to let your head fall against his shoulder, enough for your cheek to brush the edge of his jaw.
“Maybe I have,” you whisper.
That makes him exhale through his nose, a near-silent sound of disbelief.
One of his hands slides lower, fingers dragging down the side of your thigh through your dress, subtle under the colored lights. You don’t stop him. Don’t even flinch. You’re past that now—past logic, past caution. You gave up control the second you walked through the door.
Your hips roll against his, slow, testing.
He curses under his breath.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.
You smile, dizzy with the rush of power you didn’t know you had. “Good.”
The beat slows again. He doesn’t move. Neither do you. You're suspended there, in the strobe-flecked dark, wrapped in the tension of something neither of you is ready to name. You can feel the way his body hardens against yours. The restraint in the way he keeps his hands from wandering farther. The storm gathering behind his eyes.
And then someone spills a drink, somewhere close, and the moment fractures just enough for you to step away.
You walk toward the back door without a word. Toward the warm night air, toward the sound of water, toward the next inevitable collapse in this universe gone fully to chaos.
Behind you, Jungkook follows.
The patio is cooler, but it doesn’t help. Not really.
You step out into the night air with your plastic cup still clutched in your hand, the condensation sliding between your fingers. The hem of your dress clings to the backs of your thighs, slick with sweat and static, and your pulse hasn’t slowed since the dance floor. You try to blame it on the alcohol. On the heat. On the music still throbbing behind you.
Not on him.
You don’t dare glance behind you. You don’t have to. You already know he’s there.
The pool glows in blue and gold, lights flickering beneath the surface like someone bottled the stars and poured them into water. A few people are floating lazily, limbs draped over inflatable chairs, laughter drifting up like smoke. The jacuzzi hums beside it, steam rising from its surface, soft and almost cinematic. Someone’s speaker plays a slower song now—trance-like, sensual, too low to sing along to.
And there he is again.
He emerges from the shadows like the night belongs to him. Still shirtless, only now his skin shines with a sheen of sweat. His boxers ride low on his hips, exposing just enough to make your mouth dry. His chest is cut, stomach taut, tattoos black against golden skin. A towel slung over one shoulder. That stupid, crooked grin.
“You look hot,” he says. His tone is casual, but his eyes aren’t. They’re scanning every inch of you, unhurried. “You should cool off.”
You take a slow sip from your drink. “What, in there?”
He nods toward the jacuzzi. “It’s basically mandatory.”
You raise a brow. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”
Neither does he, clearly. He steps closer anyway. “Neither do I.”
Before you can respond, Hyeri appears beside you with a shriek, nearly stumbling as she tugs off her dress in one motion. Her red bra and matching lace panties flash under the porch lights like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Come onnnn,” she whines, laughing, already halfway into the water. “It’s just underwear! No one cares!”
“I care,” you mutter, gripping the hem of your dress like it’s the last thing tethering you to reality.
“Then stop being so uptight,” she says—and with no warning, she shoves you forward.
You stumble with a yelp. The cup flies from your hand. Your knees buckle as hot water surrounds you, silk dragging against your skin, heavy and clinging. You surface gasping, soaked from head to toe, hair plastered to your forehead.
“Hyeri!” you snap, voice shrill, but she’s laughing too hard to answer.
Someone whistles. Someone else claps. Jungkook’s smirking as he lowers himself in across from you, water sloshing up over his chest. He leans back, spreads his arms wide across the edge, like this is his throne and you’ve just been delivered to it.
And your dress—god, your dress.
The satin is ruined. It sticks to your stomach, your thighs, your chest. The neckline’s slipped almost indecently low, and you know without looking that the fabric is nearly see-through now, the curve of your bra showing underneath. You tug at it beneath the surface, cheeks flaming.
“It’s not that kind of party,” you mutter, voice tight.
But he’s already watching you like it is. “You’re overdressed.”
You shoot him a look. “Not anymore.”
He smiles, slow and lazy, and leans closer. “Then lose it.”
You hesitate. But the water is warm, the music hazy, the alcohol swimming in your bloodstream like a tide. And your dress is clinging like second skin, dragging with every breath. You sigh. Slide the straps off your shoulders. Shimmy out of the fabric under the surface until it floats around you like a drowning petal. You drape it over the side without ceremony.
Now it’s just you in your bra and underwear. Bare legs. Wet skin. Nothing left to hide behind.
And he’s watching you like he wants to ruin you with just his eyes.
Conversation rises around you—someone retells a wild hookup story, someone else splashes a drink over the jets—but none of it registers. You can feel Jungkook's thigh brushing yours beneath the water. His hand finds your knee. Slides just above it.
You breathe in. Let it happen.
The moment holds like that. Suspended. Like a physics problem with no solution—just two bodies and friction and heat, variables with too much potential energy, waiting to snap.
Then someone splashes. Water flies up into your face, and you blink hard, flinching.
“Shit,” you mumble, rubbing your eye. Your contact is out of place—stinging, burning, blurring your vision.
“You good?” Jungkook’s voice is suddenly sharper, closer.
You try to nod. “Something in my eye.”
Without missing a beat, he lifts himself out of the water. The muscles in his stomach flex as he grabs a towel and holds it out to you. “Come on. Bathroom’s inside. I’ve got eyedrops.”
You hesitate.
He holds your gaze.
“It’s just upstairs,” he says, voice quieter now. “I’ll get you something dry too.”
Your breath catches.
His boxers are soaked. His hair’s dripping down his neck. His hand is still outstretched.
And you go.
The hallway is quiet—eerily so after the chaos of the party below. The music becomes nothing but a muffled hum, thudding through the floorboards as if the house is holding its breath with you. Water drips from your hair to your bare shoulders, your bra clinging uncomfortably to your skin beneath the oversized towel Jungkook threw over you. The soaked fabric of your underwear sticks between your thighs as you walk, your steps squelching against the hardwood.
He walks just ahead, shirtless and dripping, his boxers clinging to every muscle of his thighs. His back is broad, his tattooed arm flexing as he opens a door on the left, pushing it open with casual ease.
“Bathroom,” he says, flicking on the light. “Eyedrops are in the cabinet.”
You step inside. The air is cool, the tile colder beneath your feet. A dim light above the mirror flickers before settling into a soft glow. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror—you already know you look like something undone. Makeup smudged. Hair clumped into wet strands. Skin flushed from heat and embarrassment and him.
You open the cabinet, find the eyedrops instantly. Your fingers tremble as you tip your chin back, blinking the liquid in. The sting fades slowly.
When you lower your gaze, he’s leaning in the doorway, shoulder against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t speak. Just watches. Like he’s cataloging every movement, every breath, every second you give him.
You clear your throat. “Thanks.”
He nods. “Didn’t want your eye falling out on my watch.”
You laugh, quiet. “So thoughtful.”
“I am,” he says, straightening. He steps toward you, slow. Measured. “You should let me show you.”
Your pulse skips. “Show me what?”
His eyes dip. “How thoughtful I can be.”
You roll your eyes, but it’s weak. Your body’s already reacting, legs stiffening slightly, breath catching when he stops in front of you, close enough that the heat of his skin warms yours. The water still dripping from his hair catches the light.
“You’re wet,” he murmurs, glancing down.
“Sharp observation.”
He hums. “Not just from the jacuzzi, I think.”
Your eyes snap up. His are burning now—darker, lower, slow-burning coal beneath thick lashes. His voice dips.
“You gonna let me dry you off?”
You don’t answer.
He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Or should I make you wetter first?”
Your knees threaten to give out.
He steps back before you can respond, smirking like he already knows he’s winning. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll give you something dry to wear.”
You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You know what this is. But you take his hand anyway.
The bedroom is dim, lit only by a lamp in the corner and the moonlight spilling through half-closed blinds. The air is warmer here. Softer. And everything smells like him—spice, skin, shampoo. The bed is rumpled. There’s a hoodie thrown over a chair, a single black ring on the nightstand, and a half-empty glass of water.
You stand awkwardly at the edge of the room, arms crossed tightly over the towel.
He crosses to a dresser, pulls out a black T-shirt and a pair of soft-looking sweatpants, both oversized. He tosses them to the bed and turns to face you.
“You can change here,” he says. “I’ll be good.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t even believe that.”
He grins. “No. But I like hearing you say it.”
You look at the clothes. You look at him.
And then—very slowly—you loosen the towel.
It falls to the floor.
The air shifts. It goes still. Almost reverent.
His eyes drag down your body in a slow, devastating sweep. Your wet bra clings to your chest, nipples clearly visible beneath the sheer fabric. Your underwear is nearly transparent, stretched taut across your hips, the waistband twisted from the way you shifted under the water. Your skin is flushed, dotted with goosebumps. You don’t cover yourself.
He doesn’t move.
For a moment, he just stares—mouth parted, throat working as he swallows hard. His cock twitches in his boxers, and the fabric can no longer hide it.
You speak first.
“Thought you were gonna be good.”
His gaze lifts—slow, hungry. His voice is hoarse when he answers.
“I lied.”
He sits on the bed, legs spread wide, his cock hard and obvious beneath the wet fabric. He leans back on his hands and looks at you like he already owns you.
“Come here.”
You step forward.
One pace. Then two. He watches your legs move, the sway of your hips, the way your soaked bra clings like temptation. When you stop in front of him, he exhales like it’s costing him something.
He tilts his head. “Can I touch you now?”
You nod. It’s barely a breath.
He reaches forward, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, then over your hips, thumbs brushing the waistband of your underwear.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up. “You don’t even know.”
“I think I do,” you whisper.
And he grins, wild and crooked and starved. “Good girl.”
His eyes are on your mouth when you breathe.
“Come here,” he says again, voice husky, deeper than it was downstairs. There’s no playfulness in it anymore. Just want.
You step forward, letting your knees brush the outside of his. He doesn’t move.
Then, slowly, deliberately, you lift one leg over his thigh, then the other, and lower yourself into his lap.
The second your hips meet his, you feel it — the hard line of his cock pressing against the thin cotton of your panties. You both freeze. His breath stutters, jaw flexing as his fingers curl into the sheets beside him. He looks up at you like you’ve just ruined him.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what you do to me.”
Your cheeks burn, but you don’t look away.
He reaches for your waist, fingers spreading wide as he guides you gently — forward, then back. The friction is slow. Torturous. His cock slides along the soaked crotch of your panties with every pass, dragging over your clit in a way that makes your thighs twitch.
“You’re soaked,” he whispers, like it’s a confession. “You’ve been wet since the dance, haven’t you?”
You open your mouth to argue, but it comes out a moan instead.
His hands roam. Over your waist, your ribs, thumbs grazing the undercurve of your breasts. He doesn’t touch your nipples — not yet. He’s savoring. Mapping you like something rare and sacred. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for balance, and he lets his head fall forward, lips grazing the slope of your neck.
“You smell like heat,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your pulse. “Like you’re meant to be fucked.”
The air leaves your lungs in one sharp exhale.
He sucks at your throat once — soft, then harder — enough to leave a mark. Your hips grind down harder by accident, and he groans into your skin.
“God, baby,” he breathes, voice crumbling, “I want you to ride me just like this. Slow. Fuck—just like that.”
You drag your hips again, letting your soaked panties rub over his cock, and his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise.
“You like that?” you whisper, breath shaking.
He looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, and smiles like the devil.
“You have no idea.”
He rolls his hips up into yours once, sharply. You gasp.
“Wanna feel you come on me like this,” he mutters, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “Make a mess all over my lap. Let me ruin these pretty little panties you wore just for me.”
You whimper. His cock pulses beneath you, hot and thick and aching against your soaked center.
“Say you want it,” he whispers. “Say you want me to fuck you.”
“I want it,” you gasp, breathless. “Jungkook—please…”
And he groans, deep and raw.
“I’m gonna take my fucking time with you.”
You don’t realize how hard you’re breathing until he stills you.
His hands slide beneath your thighs, gripping them firmly, and with a strength that shouldn’t feel as gentle as it does, he lifts you. You gasp as he lays you back across the bed, your legs draped over the edge, your hair fanning against the pillows like you were made to be framed like this—bare and gasping beneath his stare.
He follows you down slowly. Drops to his knees like it's instinct.
Not cocky. Not rushed.
Like he’s been waiting to kneel here since the second he saw you.
Your thighs tremble as he presses them open, fingers leaving faint imprints against your skin. He slides his palms under your knees, pushing them farther apart, and for a second, he just looks at you. At the damp curve of your panties, the way the fabric clings, the way you shift slightly under his stare like the heat between your legs has turned unbearable.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathes.
His hands grip the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips without thinking. He peels them down slowly, watching them drag over your skin like he wants to memorize every inch. When they reach your ankles, he tosses them somewhere behind him—but his eyes never leave you.
Then he leans in.
The first touch of his tongue is almost too soft to process. Just the tip, a teasing flick across your clit that makes your entire body jolt. You clutch at the sheets, your back arching when he does it again—firmer this time. He groans the second he tastes you.
“God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue from your entrance all the way up. “How the fuck do you taste like this?”
Your thighs twitch. He presses his palms against them to keep you open, steady, and lowers his mouth again.
This time, it’s not soft.
His tongue laps at you with purpose, flattening against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that make your legs tense and your fingers curl. He moans against you like he’s the one being pleasured, and the vibrations send shocks through your entire body.
You cry out. It’s instinctual—your hips trying to buck, your hand flying to his hair.
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you run.
He wraps an arm around your thigh, holds you down, and slips two fingers inside you without warning.
Your moan is wrecked.
The stretch, the heat, the way his tongue moves faster now—circling, pressing, teasing just to the edge of pain. It’s too much. Not enough. Everything.
Your head falls back against the mattress.
“Jungkook—” It’s a whimper, broken. “Oh my god…”
He groans again, tongue working faster, fingers curling inside you like he knows exactly where to find you, exactly how to press until you’re gasping like you’re drowning.
“That’s it,” he rasps against you. “Fuck, baby… let me feel you come on my mouth. Right here. Come for me.”
You’re so close. You can’t breathe.
Everything tightens. Spirals. Your hands clutch his hair, your hips grind against his mouth despite yourself, and then—
You come.
Hard.
It hits you like a wave — back arching, thighs shaking, lips parting in a cry you can’t control. You feel yourself pulse around his fingers, your orgasm ripping through you in hot, wet pulses that make you sob his name.
He groans low against you and keeps going, tongue flicking as your body shudders, milking every second out of it, chasing every last twitch of pleasure until your hips collapse and your legs fall open.
He finally pulls back, face glistening, lips swollen, pupils blown.
You’re panting.
He stares at you like he’s just won a war.
And then—without giving you a second to recover—he grips your thighs and says, voice rough, “Get up.”
You blink, dizzy. “Wha—”
“Mirror,” he says. “Now.”
You’re still catching your breath when he grabs your wrist.
Not harshly. Not with force. Just enough pressure to tell you you’re not going anywhere.
Your skin is hot, oversensitive, your thighs still twitching, and he’s already pulling you upright like he hasn’t just made you come with nothing but his mouth and two fingers. You follow, unsteady on your feet, your knees weak. Your bra is twisted around your chest, half-askew. Your hair’s stuck to your neck. You feel undone.
And he’s still hard.
You catch a glimpse of it as he steps in behind you — the thick outline of his cock straining against the wet cotton of his boxers. You must’ve soaked through his lap earlier, because the front of them is completely dark, clinging to every inch of him. Your throat goes dry.
“Come here,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, already steering you toward the mirror in the corner of his room. Full-length. Gold-rimmed. Slightly fogged at the edges from the humidity of your bodies.
“I can’t—” you start, still dazed, and his hand cups your jaw from behind.
“You can,” he says, soft but firm. “You’re not done. Not yet.”
He stops you just a step in front of the mirror.
“Look,” he tells you. His voice is low, breathless now. “Look at yourself.”
You do.
And the girl in the reflection is… not you.
Her lips are swollen. Her bra half-off. Her thighs gleaming. Her chest rising and falling like she’s been running for hours. You can see Jungkook’s frame behind you—tall, shirtless, flushed—his arm reaching around your waist, the other pressing flat against your lower back.
Then his hand slides down.
Over your stomach. Your panties are gone. You’re bare for him, wet and pulsing and still aching from before.
His fingers dip between your legs again.
You gasp. Your head drops forward—but his voice sharpens, right against your ear.
“No. Eyes up. Watch.”
You do.
You watch the way your mouth falls open when two fingers slip back inside you, slow and deep. Watch the way your body rocks forward slightly, forced to brace against the glass as he curls them perfectly, his palm dragging over your clit just enough to make your knees buckle.
He wraps his other arm around your waist to keep you upright.
“Good girl,” he whispers, lips brushing your neck.
Your hips twitch. The angle is too perfect. Too much. Every thrust of his fingers sends you crashing forward against your reflection, breath fogging the glass, lips parting with every ragged moan.
“Look how pretty you are when you fall apart,” he murmurs. “You see that?”
You nod, barely.
He pumps his fingers harder. Deeper. You feel them hit that spot again, and your entire body shudders. His hips are pressed to your ass now, his cock grinding against your skin with every movement, leaking through his boxers as he fingers you mercilessly.
“You like being watched?” he growls, voice breaking. “Like seeing yourself like this?”
You whimper. “Yes…”
“You wanna come again, don’t you?” His fingers slam into you harder now, knuckles wet, your slick echoing obscenely in the quiet. “You wanna do it while you’re looking me in the eye?”
You lift your head.
Meet his gaze in the mirror.
And that’s what breaks you.
You cry out, loud and raw, body shaking against his, pressed full-length to the glass as your orgasm rips through you again — messier this time, faster, overwhelming. Your legs quake. His fingers never stop. He holds you through it, one arm locking you in place as you fall apart a second time in front of yourself, because of him.
Your breath fogs the mirror in quick, shallow pants.
He finally pulls back, wet fingers sliding free with a low, satisfied groan.
He looks at you in the mirror—flushed, panting, nearly gone—and leans in to press a slow kiss to your shoulder.
“I could watch you come all night.”
And somehow, you believe him.
He pulls back just enough to let you breathe. The mirror’s cooled now, the glass smeared with your fingerprints and fog, the reflection a blur of tangled hair and sweat and wrecked pleasure. Your thighs are shaking. Your skin is damp. You feel like you’ve melted and there’s no putting yourself back together.
Jungkook turns you gently, hand on your waist, guiding you like he’s still not done claiming you.
The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and you let him push you down until you’re flat on your back. Your arms fall limp beside you, and for a moment all you can do is stare up at him. His chest is heaving. His skin is flushed. His cock — thick, red, twitching — strains beneath the cling of his boxers, soaked and sticking to every outline.
Then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband.
You can’t look away.
The cotton peels down slowly, catching on the head of his cock. He frees it with one hand, and it slaps up against his stomach, flushed and dripping.
Your breath catches.
You’ve seen porn. You’ve read things. You’ve imagined. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight of him — him— standing between your knees, eyes dark, cock hard, and so clearly turned on by you.
Your thighs press together instinctively.
He sees it.
Smirks.
Then climbs onto the bed.
He doesn’t ask. He just leans over you, one hand sliding beneath your back, the other tugging the straps of your bra off your shoulders. You lift your arms without thinking, too far gone to hesitate, and he slides it down and off, tossing it carelessly to the floor.
Your breasts spill free, heavy and flushed and still damp from sweat.
He freezes. Just for a second.
Then—
“Jesus fuck,” he breathes.
His hand comes up, fingers splayed, and he cups one breast gently, reverently, like it’s something sacred. His thumb grazes your nipple. You shudder.
“You’re unreal,” he murmurs. “So fucking soft… I’ve been staring at these all night.”
You laugh breathlessly. “You haven’t even seen them until now.”
He leans down, presses a kiss between them. “Didn’t have to. I just knew.”
And then he’s straddling your hips, cock in his hand, eyes dark as sin.
You watch, completely still, as he spits into his palm, slicks it over his length, and nestles the head of his cock between your breasts.
Your stomach tightens.
He reaches down, gently lifts your hands, guiding them to your own body. “Hold them together for me.”
You obey. Press your breasts around him, the weight of them closing snug around his cock. His breath stutters.
“Just like that,” he whispers. “Fuck—just like that.”
And then he starts to move.
It’s slow at first. The head of his cock slides up, nudging under your chin, wet with pre-come. You gasp as it drags back down, gliding slick between your breasts, your skin burning with friction and arousal and humiliation, but god, it turns you on more than you thought possible.
You’ve never done this before. Never even thought about it.
But the way he moans? The way his eyes fall half-lidded, hips starting to stutter as he watches his cock disappear between your breasts?
It wrecks you.
Your thighs press together again. You can feel the wetness leaking out of you — fresh, sticky, proof that even after everything, your body’s still begging.
“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook groans, one hand gripping the headboard for balance, the other fisting your hair. “You have no idea what this does to me.”
You whimper.
“Look at you,” he pants. “Tits so fucking perfect. Taking all of me. You’re so good—so fucking good—”
The head of his cock taps your chin again, your lips, your throat. You open your mouth on instinct, and he moans loudly.
“You wanna taste it?” he growls. “Wanna suck the tip while I fuck your tits?”
You nod, breathless, and tilt your head just enough to catch him on your tongue the next time he thrusts up.
The sound he makes is filthy.
His hips falter. His jaw clenches. The hand in your hair tightens.
“Fuck—fuck, I’m not gonna last like this,” he chokes out. “You feel too good. You’re so fucking hot like this. I could come all over these perfect tits and still not be done.”
You whine.
He pulls back.
Not because he’s finished — but because he’s holding on.
Barely.
And because he hasn’t even been inside you yet.
He’s panting above you, knees sunk into the mattress on either side of your waist, sweat beading down his chest as his cock pulses between your breasts. The tip is slick, flushed red, twitching with restraint. His eyes are locked on the mess he’s made of your body — your breasts shining, lips parted, your entire body still trembling beneath him.
But you’re not done.
You should be. You’ve come twice, your legs are jelly, your skin is hypersensitive — but none of that matters. Because the longer you stare at him, the more you realize that this isn’t enough. Not yet. Not until you’ve had all of him. Not until you’ve tasted the way he’s falling apart.
Your voice is gone. Your mind’s gone too. All you can feel is heat — liquid and pulsing, low in your belly and behind your knees. You want to be good for him. You want to be filthy for him. You want to know what he tastes like. You want to feel his cock on your tongue.
So you shift beneath him.
Lift your hands to his thighs, fingers sliding up slowly, dragging over the thick muscle until you reach his hips. He watches you with hooded eyes, breathless, lips wet and parted.
You look up at him. And then — without a single word — you stick out your tongue.
The way his expression breaks…
“Holy fuck,” he whispers.
His hand comes down, cradling your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he stares like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“You want to suck me off that bad?” he asks, voice rough. “After everything I’ve done to you?”
You nod. Keep your tongue out. Your eyes never leave his.
He growls.
“Say it,” he whispers, thumb pressing into your chin. “Be a good girl. Tell me what you want.”
Your voice is hoarse. Desperate. “I want your cock in my mouth, Jungkook… I want to suck you until you lose it. I want to feel you on my tongue, in my throat. I want to taste all of you. Please…”
His jaw clenches. His hips jerk forward instinctively, the tip of his cock brushing your bottom lip.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters. “Open your mouth.”
You do.
He guides himself in slowly, head pressing past your lips, the taste of salt and musk blooming over your tongue. You groan softly, and he shudders.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, hand slipping into your hair, wrapping it around his fingers like reins. “Fuck, baby. Look so pretty like this.”
You hollow your cheeks, take him deeper. Inch by inch, tongue curled beneath the shaft, your lips stretched wide. His cock slides in heavy, hot, and you let it, eyes fluttering closed as he presses against the back of your throat.
He hisses through his teeth. “God—fuck, your mouth…”
You moan around him.
The vibration makes him groan, hips rolling forward just slightly — enough to make you gag softly around him. Your eyes water. You don’t stop.
Your fingers curl around his thighs. You suck him hard, wet and steady, letting spit drip down your chin, letting it get messy, wanting it to get messy. You want him undone. You want him to lose control.
“Fuck, just like that,” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re so good. You’re fucking perfect.”
He begins to move.
Not roughly. Just slow thrusts of his hips, sliding his cock deeper with every pass, using your mouth like he’s been dreaming about it for months. His hand holds your hair tight. His stomach flexes. You can feel him trembling.
You flatten your tongue. Let him fuck into your mouth.
He starts muttering now — barely coherent.
“Shit… you’re gonna make me come—your fucking mouth—baby, I’m gonna—”
But then he pulls out.
You gasp, mouth open, spit trailing from your lips to the head of his cock.
He’s shaking.
“I can’t,” he breathes. “Not yet. I need to be inside you.”
You’re still panting when he leans down to kiss you. It’s not gentle. He licks into your mouth, like he can’t bear the space between you anymore.
Then he reaches for the drawer.
Pulls out a condom.
And looks down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.
“Lie back,” he says. “Let me fuck you right.”
You’re already open for him when he returns.
Laid bare, legs parted, lips swollen, chin still shining from spit. Your body aches in the best way — used, touched, ruined — but it’s nothing compared to what you feel when you watch him roll the condom on. His chest is heaving. His thighs are flexed. And his cock, flushed and twitching in his grip, looks almost angry with need.
He climbs between your legs slowly. Like he’s in control.
But you can see it now — the tension behind his smirk. The tremble in his breath. He’s been on the edge since you got on your knees, and he’s barely holding on.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “All spread out for me. Wet as fuck. And you still want more?”
You nod, breathless.
He grins. Then lowers himself, his cock brushing against your folds — not pushing in yet, just slapping it lightly across your entrance.
Once.
Twice.
A third time, with a wet sound that makes you twitch.
You gasp, hips jerking. “Jungkook…”
He groans. “You hear that? That’s how wet you are for me. All this for my cock, baby?”
You whimper. “Yes. All for you.”
He drags the head of his cock through your folds, slow and filthy, coating himself in your slick. Then he holds himself there — right at your entrance — and still doesn’t move.
“Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” you breathe.
He growls. “Nah. Say it right.”
You whimper again, voice breaking. “Please, Jungkook… I want your cock. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside.”
He exhales like you’ve punched the air from his lungs. “Good girl.”
And then he pushes in.
It’s slow. Torturous. You feel every inch — the stretch, the pressure, the way your walls cling to him. You gasp, head falling back against the pillows, thighs trembling as he slides deeper.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice guttural. “You’re so tight. So warm… shit—like you were made for me.”
Your mouth falls open. “You feel so good, Jungkook… so fucking big…”
He growls at that — hips pressing all the way in until he’s bottomed out.
“Yeah? You like this?”
“Yes,” you pant. “You fill me so good, I—I can’t think—”
“You don’t need to think,” he breathes. “Just feel.”
Then he starts to move.
Slow thrusts at first — deep and deliberate. His hips rock into yours with precision, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot inside you. His body presses into yours with heat and weight and intent, chest nearly touching yours, forearms braced on either side of your head.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Tight little pussy taking all of me like that.”
You moan — helpless, wrecked, desperate.
“Say it,” he whispers. “Say it’s mine.”
“It’s yours,” you breathe, voice trembling. “It’s all yours, Jungkook…”
“Say no one else fucks you like this.”
“No one. Just you—only you—”
He groans loud at that, pace faltering for a beat before he starts pounding harder.
He fucks you like he’s trying to leave a mark. Every thrust hits deeper, sharper, hips slapping against your ass. His hand slides up to your chest, gripping one breast, squeezing until you gasp. His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back.
“You wanna come for me, baby?”
“Yes,” you gasp. “Please…”
“You gonna let me watch you fall apart again?”
“Yes—fuck, please, Jungkook—”
He shifts, changes the angle, and suddenly every thrust is grinding against your clit just right. You cry out, back arching, thighs trembling. You’re so close. So fucking close.
“Come for me,” he growls. “Come all over my cock, baby. I wanna feel you tighten around me—come like you fucking mean it.”
And you do.
Your orgasm hits like a supernova — legs locking around his waist, mouth falling open in a scream. Your body pulses around him, walls clenching so hard he nearly loses it with you. He fucks you through it, whispering filth in your ear the whole time, praising you, owning you.
When you finally come down, panting and wrecked, he kisses you like he’s starving.
But he’s not done.
Not yet.
You’re still pulsing around him when he pulls out.
You gasp, empty in an instant, your body twitching from aftershocks. He kneels back for a breath, staring down at you like he’s trying to burn the image into memory — your legs splayed, your skin flushed, your mouth swollen and wet with the ghost of his name.
And then he flips you.
Fast.
You land on your stomach with a surprised moan, face sinking into the pillow, arms collapsing beneath you. Before you can breathe, he’s behind you again, spreading your thighs with greedy hands, pressing his cock between your folds.
“Fuck,” he growls, dragging himself through your slick. “You look so good like this.”
He grabs your hips, lifts you slightly, and pushes back in with one rough thrust.
You cry out. Your fingers clutch the sheets.
He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He just fucks into you—deep, fast, like he’s finally letting go. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, wet and sharp, paired with his ragged moans and your helpless gasps.
“Oh my god,” you whimper, spine arching. “Fuck—Jungkook—yes—”
“You like this?” he snarls. “You like getting fucked like this? Bent over like a toy?”
“Yes,” you pant, no shame left. “I love it—I love your cock—don’t stop—”
He laughs, breathless, feral. His hand slides up your back, tangles in your hair, and pulls.
Your back arches instinctively. The burn in your scalp shoots straight to your cunt. You moan like it’s oxygen.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Take it. Take all of it.”
He thrusts harder, faster. Every stroke knocks a sound out of your throat. Your body jolts forward with the force of it, and he only pulls you back harder.
Then—
Smack.
His palm lands on your ass, hard and hot. You jerk. Whine. Grind back against him.
“Oh, you like that?” he grits out. “You want me to spank you while I fuck you?”
“Yes—yes, please, Jungkook—”
Smack.Again.
Your ass stings, skin heating under each slap, but it just makes everything worse — your walls clamp around him, another orgasm building before you can even prepare for it.
“You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?” His voice is sharp now, breathless. “Fucking dripping. So messy. You love being used like this.”
“I love it,” you sob. “I love it—I love being fucked by you—please—please, Jungkook—”
He grabs both your wrists and pulls them behind your back, holding you open while he slams into you, deep and fast, until your vision goes white.
“Come again,” he orders. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”
And when you do, it hits harder than before — your body convulsing, vision tunneling, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your pussy clenches tight around him.
“Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—”
He groans loud, one final thrust punching deep into you—
And then he’s coming.
Hard.
You feel it — the way his whole body tightens behind you, the heat spilling into the condom as he presses as deep as he can go, panting against your spine, voice raw.
He holds there for a long moment. Breathing. Trembling.
Then slowly, gently, he loosens his grip on your wrists. Brushes a soft kiss over your shoulder. Collapses beside you.
The room is silent now. Just two bodies, sweat-drenched and sore, trembling from everything they weren’t supposed to feel.
Your body’s gone heavy. Limbs lax. Muscles aching in the best way. You’re still on your stomach, hair matted to the back of your neck, thighs sticky, lungs slow to catch up. The sheets are wrinkled beneath you. The whole room smells like sweat and sex and the kind of satisfaction that seeps into the bones.
And then he touches you again.
A hand slides along your hip — warm, calloused — trailing over the curve of your ass and down your thigh. Then it shifts. Moves up. His thumb grazes the underside of your breast, and his mouth follows a heartbeat later.
“Jungkook,” you murmur, voice soft, half-dazed.
He doesn’t answer.
He just mouths at your nipple, lazy and slow, tongue swirling in wet circles while his hand cups the other breast and gives it a greedy squeeze. You gasp. Your back arches instinctively. He hums low in his throat like you're dessert.
“Thought you were done,” you whisper, eyes fluttering.
He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop. “I’m never done with you.”
You whimper. Laugh. Try to turn your face away — but he follows. Crawls up your body, kisses you deep and messy, his hand still palming your breast while his tongue slides into your mouth like he owns it. His lips are sticky, hot. You taste yourself on them.
And you melt all over again.
His fingers dig into your ass next. Squeezing. Spreading. Possessive.
“You know,” he rasps, breath fanning over your ear, “I could fuck you like this every day.”
You laugh again — breathless, flushed. “Yeah?”
“Every fucking day.” He groans. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” you breathe, turning your head slightly, kissing his jaw. “You fuck so good…”
He moans. “You make it easy. Being inside you is like… holy fuck, it’s unreal.”
You roll onto your back, too lazy to fully fight him off. He’s still kissing your chest, dragging his mouth from one nipple to the other, circling slow. His tongue’s warm. Wet. Wicked. Every touch makes you twitch.
And your voice—when it comes—is low and teasing.
“You gonna get off on my tits again, or let me put some clothes on?”
“Don’t you dare,” he mutters, pulling back only slightly, eyes dropping to the mess of your ruined panties on the floor. He picks them up with two fingers, holds them hostage. “I’m keeping these.”
You blink. “Jungkook.”
He grins. “For science.”
You snort, still breathless. “That was…” You exhale hard, letting your head fall back. “So fucking needed.”
He grins. “Anytime. I’m very committed to supporting women in STEM.”
You laugh — fully this time. He tosses you his hoodie, then shimmies into his boxers like he isn’t still half-hard just watching you move. You stretch slowly, aching all over, before sitting up and tugging on your dress without underwear. His eyes darken.
And then, before you leave, you do it — that final little flick of power he never sees coming.
You hook your finger in your mouth. Suck it slowly. Loudly. Let it pop free. Then glance back at him over your shoulder with a sweet, filthy smile.
His jaw drops. He groans. “Oh my fucking god.”
You smirk. “See you around, Jeon.”
And just before you slip out the door, he mutters under his breath, half-wrecked:
“…I’m so fucking in trouble.”
.
.
.
there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)
You shouldn’t have entertained Jungkook’s games. You should’ve just kept your distance. But now, it’s too late, isn’t it?
warnings: alcohol, cursing, protected sex (penis in vagina), oral (female receiving). Please remember that ff smut is fictional.
word count: 6.3k
a/n: so, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I wish it hadn’t taken this long, but I was sick, life got in the way, and I was tired and uninspired. I hope the next chapter won’t take as long. Thank you so much for your patience 🙏🏻 I hope you’ll love this chapter because I’m nervous!!!
it’s just I’m constantly on the cusp
of trying to kiss you
“Had fun tonight?”
Jungkook leans against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. He waits for your answer, his eyes steady, teasing, expectant.
You grab the towel from the counter to dry your hands, pressing your back against the sink, putting as much distance between you and him as possible in the cramped kitchen. You wish you could just disappear.
You need a way out.
“Yeah, it was nice,” you say, trying to sound as casual as possible while drying your already dry hands with the towel.
“I’m not much of a gamer, but it was fun watching you lose,” you add, throwing in the tease to make it sound more natural.
Jungkook stands up and takes a small step forward, smiling as if he finds you amusing.
“Me? Losing? How could you say that?” He scoffs playfully, his whole chest moving. “Loser.”
“This was my first time. But you? You game every day. You should be better than this.” You mock him with an even look on your face.
He keeps smiling. “I was still better than you.”
You shrug. “Not impressed.”
“Not impressed?” He smirks, taking another step forward.
You clutch the towel tightly, trying to hold his gaze, to withstand the rising tension, not to be the first to fold.
He gives you a once-over, moving his eyes up until they meet yours again.
“Not really.” You try to sound nonchalant, but you’re aware your tone is a little too high.
Jungkook clicks his tongue, tilting his head with a small roll of his eyes.
“Okay.”
He looks at you again, head still tilted, that annoying smirk on his face.
“So, are you done avoiding me?”
That little shit.
He couldn’t just let it go? Couldn’t he?
Did you really think he’d let you act like nothing happened?
You’re an idiot for even entertaining the thought.
What should you do? How are you gonna get out of this mess?
Act a fool.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He moves closer, that stupid smile still plastered on his face, like he finds it funny.
“You don’t know?”
You clutch the towel tighter in your fingers, feeling your throat grow drier as the space between you shrinks.
You feel trapped, like a deer caught in headlights—except, in this case, you're the one who handed Jungkook the car keys.
“Nope.”
You try to stick to your plan. Be cool, act like nothing happened.
He’s really close now. If he reached out, he could touch you.
Not that you want that. You’re sure it’s a terrible idea.
Distance is good. Distance is better.
Even if he’s hell-bent on demolishing it, along with the little restraint you have left.
“Good.” He says, stopping in front of you.
“So, you’re done avoiding me.”
He says it like he’s stating a fact, smiling like he won this stupid fight.
You roll your eyes. Holding the towel in front of you, like a barrier between you two—as if it could protect you from him somehow.
He leans in even closer, a shit-eating grin on his face that can’t mean anything good.
“Now we can get to the fun part.”
He says in a low voice, and it does things to you it really shouldn’t.
You shouldn’t be here right now.
You shouldn’t be testing yourself like this.
You try to hold on to the little defiance you have left.
You scoff, but it’s weak; it lacks its usual bite. “What do you want?”
Jungkook leans back, giving you a quick once-over.
“There are a few things I can think of.”
He tilts his head, looking at you with a challenge in his eyes, daring you to play along.
You feel the heat rise in your chest, creeping up to your face.
A million thoughts race through your mind.
Should you just give in? Play along? Erase that smile from his face, like you know you can? Like you’ve done countless times before?
No.
You shouldn’t.
There’s no way this can end well. Where will you even go?
Jungkook is a textbook fuckboy.
But why is that a bad thing? You could just fuck once.
Fuck it out of your system. Fuck him out of your mind.
It could be just a one-time thing.
But then what?
You’ll go to grab breakfast, and he’ll be like, ‘Hey, remember the time I was balls-deep inside of you?’
You can’t live like that. It’d be too awkward. There’s a reason you decided it’s a line you shouldn’t cross. A reason you decided no more fuckboys.
You’re ready for an upgrade. It’s time to start living like an adult. And as an adult, you need a man who can treat you right.
Jungkook is not that man. He can’t handle you.
You’re quiet for too long—it’s starting to get awkward.
You’re just standing there, flustered, while Jungkook looks at you with that smug smirk.
He starts to lean forward slowly, closing the gap between you. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest.
There are only a few inches between you now, and he reaches his hand toward you. His fingers brush the side of your upper arm, sending goosebumps across your skin.
You curse yourself for taking off the hoodie to clean the kitchen. You need its protection right now.
Jungkook is so close you can feel his breath on your shoulder. You try to collect yourself—your words, your protest.
You manage a weak, “W-what are yo—” when Jungkook suddenly pulls back.
He’s holding the cleaning spray in his hand, a pleased grin spreading across his face.
“I’ll go clean the coffee table.” He turns on his heels and leaves the kitchen.
Fuck.
You let out a sigh, not realizing you’d been holding your breath.
What does he think he’s doing?
That little prick.
You want to wipe that stupid smirk off his face so badly.
You want him to regret the day he decided to play these games with you.
Ughhh.
But you can’t. You shouldn’t. That’s exactly what he wants, right?
For you to lose your cool. To make a wrong move.
You need to keep it together.
You grab a bottle of water from the fridge and lean against the countertop, cooling yourself down before heading back out. You can’t stay in the kitchen forever.
Maybe you could?
No, no. You can’t.
You take a deep breath and walk into the living room.
Jungkook is sitting in the middle of the couch, scrolling on his phone.
He looks up as you walk in. You brace yourself for his smug, annoying, infuriating face. But instead, you’re met with something soft. His eyes are big, wide, doe-like, and he gives you a sweet, almost shy smile.
“Wanna play some more?”
It’s weird. You look at him, shocked by the sudden change.
“Come on, it’s still early. I’m not ready to go to bed. I’ll even let you choose the game.” He sounds sweet, pleading, almost innocent.
What happened between the kitchen and the living room? When did he switch from his fuckboy persona to this sweet boy?
You’re about to say no. It’s a really bad idea.
“Are you scared you’ll lose again?” he says, smirking.
Oh, the little fuck.
Hell no.
You scoff.
“What games do you have?” you ask, plopping down on the couch beside him.
He smiles at you before turning to the TV, scrolling through the games he owns. Then you spot something.
“Pokemon!”
He giggles, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you. “You like Pokemon?”
“Who doesn’t like Pokemon?” you reply, frowning.
“Psychopaths.”
Jungkook holds a straight face for a moment before bursting into laughter, and you join in.
“Pokemon it is, then,” he says with a nod as he selects the game.
You play for a while, exploring the city, collecting money, buying potions, and battling Pokemon. The light banter never stops, with you two arguing about who’s the best Pokemon trainer. You are, obviously.
"Let’s head towards that forest we saw earlier," Jungkook says, and you follow.
You spot a wild Squirtle running past you. You press frantically on the controller buttons—you need that Squirtle. That Squirtle is yours.
But it looks like Jungkook spots him too. He throws his Pokéball at the same time.
“Fuck off, JK. He’s mine.”
He scoffs playfully. “Not if I catch him first.”
You’re both extremely invested in catching that Squirtle, pressing buttons like your life depends on it. But that little fucker is persistent. He’s not letting you catch him easily. You try to concentrate, planning the perfect throw to finally catch him, but a millisecond before your Pokéball hits, Jungkook snags him.
“Nooooo.” You throw the controller dramatically to your side.
Jungkook throws his hands in the air, cheering loudly, “Fuck yeah.”
“I can’t believe you got him,” you complain, annoyed.
“What can I say? I’m the better trainer.” He smiles smugly as he leans back on the couch.
“No, but you don’t get it—Squirtle is my favorite,” you whine, pouting.
He snorts and chuckles, “Of course he is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frown at him.
“Basic ass,” he giggles.
You gasp and throw a pillow at him. “Fuck you.”
He catches the pillow easily. “Let me guess, you like him because he’s a turtle?” he says, laughing.
“Of course I like him because he’s a turtle!” you shout.
Jungkook laughs uncontrollably.
“Let’s hear yours, Mr. Sophisticated,” you say sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest in fake annoyance. You can barely hold back your smile.
Jungkook tries to stifle his laughter long enough to answer. “Charizard.”
“Charizard?!”
Jungkook nods as he tries to control his giggles.
How dare he?
“You gave me shit for liking Squirtle, and your favorite is fucking Charizard?!”
You can’t believe his audacity, so you continue your monologue. “This is like the most basic dude answer ever.”
“And let me guess, you like him because he’s the strongest?” you ask mockingly.
“Da,” he says with wide eyes and raised brows, nodding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Trade the Squirtle with me,” you ask with a pout.
“Na-ah. No way,” he laughs.
“Then I’ll catch the Charmander.”
He snorts. “I’d like to see you try.”
You give him your best death glare. “You’ll regret this.”
He chuckles and shakes his head as he stands up. “Want a beer?”
You shake your head. “Na, I’m good.”
He takes a step toward the kitchen, and you hastily catch his wrist with both of your hands.
Jungkook snaps back around.
“Please give me your Squirtle,” you whine.
“I’ll trade you whatever you want,” you add with a pout and pleading eyes.
You expect Jungkook to laugh, to keep this stupid fight going.
But instead, he looks startled and flustered for a moment. Then, something shifts in his expression. It darkens, growing more dangerous. A small, crooked smirk creeps onto his lips as he looks down at you with dark eyes.
He taps his lips with his finger, glancing up at the ceiling as he hums, pretending to think.
“Hmmm, let me think. Anything I want, you say?”
Jungkook looks back down at you, his eyes narrowed, head tilted. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
He tilts his head further, raising his brows slightly as if suggesting you know exactly what he wants.
And you're not stupid—you do. You can barely be mad at him for the suggestion. You practically laid it out for him with all the ‘whatever you want.’ Of course, a guy like Jungkook would jump on the opportunity.
You roll your eyes playfully and pull back your hand. "Jungkook!"
He chuckles light-heartedly. “Fine,” he says dramatically, “I’ll give you my Squirtle. No need to be so dramatic.”
You clap your hands and squeak in joy.
Jungkook shakes his head with an amused smile, turning toward the kitchen.
“You know what? Bring me a beer too,” you call after him. You have a feeling you’ll need it.
A few hours later, you’ve explored a decent chunk of the game, collected more Pokémon, and drank a couple (or more) beers. Both of you are probably too tired to keep playing seriously, so now you’re just strolling lazily through the world, looking for easy tasks to do.
You shouldn’t be here.
You should’ve gone to bed a long time ago. You know that.
But you can’t bring yourself to leave. This is probably the most fun you’ve had in a while. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. Being with Jungkook like this feels easy. Too easy. And too fun.
This is exactly why you shouldn’t be here.
Jungkook yawns, stretching as he leans back onto the sofa.
“Do you think Ash and Misty fuck?”
You snap your head to look at him, your eyes wide in shock. He’s already looking at you, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “WTF?! They’re children! You perv.”
He chuckles, his voice rough from tiredness and alcohol, and probably from laughing too much. It does things to you. You don’t feel cold anymore.
You definitely shouldn’t be here.
He scoffs playfully. “I don’t mean when they were kids, perv,” he teases, his tone light and mocking. “I mean when they’re adults.”
“No?” you give him a scandalized look. “They’re friends?”
Jungkook laughs. “What does them being friends have to do with them fucking?”
“Because you don’t fuck friends,” you say, as if it’s obvious, waving your hands. Because really, you shouldn’t fuck friends. Someone always wants something more, and the friendship gets ruined. It never ends well.
“Oh, come on, y/n. You wanna tell me you haven’t fucked friends?” He says it like he knows. Because he probably does. Because you did. You did fuck friends. This is why you know it’s a bad idea.
You feel like you’ve been caught. “What do you mean?” You try to act innocent, but it's not working.
Jungkook smirks, his gaze never leaving yours. “You know the walls in this apartment are very thin.”
Is he saying what you think he’s saying? It’s not news to you, but it’s one thing knowing and another to talk about it with your fucking roommate.
“I-I-” you try to mumble something, but the words just won’t come out. Jungkook laughs.
“Come on, y/n. You and I both know we’ve heard each other fuck, and more, in this apartment.”
“The fact that it happened doesn’t mean I want to talk about it!” you snap at him.
Jungkook just laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “You’re so cute. Jigglypuff.”
“WHAT?!”
“Jigglypuff—the cute pink Pokémon that sings?”
“I know what a fucking Jigglypuff is, Jungkook.”
“You’re all cute and pink when you’re blushing. Just like a Jigglypuff.”
“SHUT UP.” You feel yourself blushing even more.
Jungkook can barely breathe from laughing now, and you try not to laugh with him, instead giving him your best threatening glare. But it only makes him laugh harder.
“You think you look scary? Jiggly?”
“SHUT UP!” You yell again, leaning forward to hit his chest.
But before you can pull back, Jungkook grabs your wrist, keeping it pressed against his chest. He pulls you toward him, and you lose your balance, crashing into him.
With both hands pressed against his chest, you can feel his warmth, his heart beating unnervingly fast. You try not to think about how firm and broad his chest feels.
You try. But you probably lost that inhibition two beers ago.
Your faces are inches apart now, and you can feel his warm breath fanning over your face. You can also smell his cologne—a classic fuckboy scent you’ve smelled a hundred times before, but it somehow smells good on him. It’s fresh, spicy.
He smells like a man.
His eyes are big, dark, and impossibly shiny. You think you’ve never seen eyes that shine so much. You feel entranced, unable to look away.
You shouldn’t have these thoughts about your roommate. You shouldn’t be pressed against him to notice all these things.
You really shouldn’t be here.
But you are.
Jungkook leans in, and you feel his breath catch in his throat. He hesitates, stopping just an inch from you before closing the distance entirely.
The kiss is intense, desperate, urgent—like your life depends on it. It’s like a crack in a dam, and you’re trying to stop it with your hand, but the dam finally gives way. The pressure crushes you, the flood sweeping you away. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t control yourself when Jungkook kisses you like that.
You try to grab into sanity. You try to hold yourself in the present. You try to focus on his lips on yours. They’re soft but firm. Adjusting to your rhythm yet demanding. And he tastes good. You never thought that kissing could taste good. You can’t even explain what he tastes like.
He tastes like an addiction.
Jungkook lets go of your wrist and slides both hands to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The movement makes you shift your hands from his chest to wrap around his neck.
And Jungkook fucking grunts. It makes your head spin.
You sigh into the kiss as he pulls you down, leaning back to lie on the couch. Jungkook slips his hands under your shirt, his big, warm palms brushing over your ribs. You shudder in his hold, and you can feel him smirk into the kiss.
He pulls back just enough to flip the two of you over, holding himself up on his hands as he hovers above you.
“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he breathes out, voice hushed and breathless. But before you can even reply, he crushes his lips back to yours.
He leans on one forearm, the other hand moving to your face. His thumb traces your cheek while his fingers rest lightly on your jaw.
It’s his tattooed hand, and the thought sends a wave of heat crawling down your abdomen. You move your hands to gently push his hair back from his face, pulling him even closer with the same motion.
Jungkook groans into the kiss as his hips buck into you. Your legs must have a life of their own because somehow they’re spread, and Jungkook is between them. You have no idea when that happened.
Jungkook adjusts his position, and he grinds his hips again, directly into your core. You let out an airy moan into his mouth.
You can feel him smile as he moves his lips to the side of your face, down your jaw, and to your neck.
He moves his free hand under your shirt. His lips and hand are hungry, demanding. Reaching every piece of skin they can get. And everywhere they touch, you feel yourself burning. You feel like he sets you up on fire.
Jungkook grinds his hips into you once more, and both of you moan in sync. You into his ear and him into the crock of your neck. Leaving goosebumps on your skin.
You inhale a sharp breath. “I’m not letting you fuck me on the couch.” You say breathlessly.
Jungkook props himself up on one arm. His breath is uneven, lips are swollen and glossy, hair is a mess, eyes are dark. And he fucking smirks at you.
“Okay," he says smugly, and he rolls his hips particularly well, he hits just the right spot. You whine breathlessly as your eyes roll to the back of your head.
He chuckles, and you look back at him, narrowing your eyes.
He tilts his head, smirk growing wider. “So, where do you want me to fuck you?”
You roll your eyes, this time in annoyance. “Who said you’re going to fuck me?”
He chuckles again and grinds his hips once again, making you let out an involuntary, embarrassing moan again.
“Jungkook!” you try to yell, but the sound comes out choked.
This time, he giggles—not his usual low, manly chuckle, but a sweet, boyish giggle.
He pushes himself up, and with one swift motion, he pulls off his shirt. It’s definitely not the first time you see Jungkook shirtless. He personally made sure of it. But something about the view of shirtless Jungkook between your spread legs is thrilling more than you could have expected.
Your eyes trail down from his defined pecs to his abs and his prominent v-line. You can’t help yourself from reaching your hand, moving your fingers gently from his navel and down his faint happy-trail. You feel him shudder under your touch, and when you look back up, he has a pleased smile on his face.
He reaches his hands, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and you push yourself up, giving him space to remove it.
The moment you flop back onto the couch, Jungkook hands are on you. Moving around exploring the newly exposed skin. His eyes widen as he follows his touch, and his lips part, as if he’s in awe of the sight before him.
He leans forward, giving your lips a soft peck, softer than anything that had transpired between the two of you up until now, before trailing his lips down to your collarbone. He gently kisses and licks from your neck to your shoulders. Keeping his lips on you all the time. He moves lower to your chest.
“You’re so pretty. Prettier than I imagined.” He murmurs against your skin; face nuzzled in the valley between your breasts.
“You’ve been thinking about me?” You aim for bratty and teasing, but it comes out breathless and whiny instead.
Jungkook pulls back, pushing himself up again, giving you a no-bullshit look. He places his hands on your waist, holding you in place. “Do you really need to ask that?”
You’d answer with some snarky comment if you could, if only you had enough focus to gather your words. But you can’t find the defiance in you when he’s looking at you like that.
He slides his hands down, stopping them on the band of your shorts. He looks up at your face with a tilt of his head and a question on his face. You push your hips up, allowing him to pull your shorts down.
When your shorts are on the floor, Jungkook stands up, removing his own before returning to his position between your legs. He leans closer to your face, pushes away a hair strand from your face, and caresses your cheek with his fingers. You look at each other in silence, closely examining each other's features.
Jungkook parts his lips as if he’s about to say something, but then he stops and dives in to kiss you instead.
The kiss is immediately intense.
As if neither of you want, or could, hold themselves back. The kiss is all lips and tongue at teeth, with airy sighs and desperate whines.
You move your lips to his neck, nipping with your lips and teeth at the sensitive spot behind his ear. Jungkook let a shaky moan as you continue to explore the skin of the column of his throat. He glides his hand on the side of your body and down between your legs.
He brushes his fingers over the top part of your panties, and you exhale, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. He’s slowly moving his hand down, gliding his finger lightly over your clothed folds. You let out a choked moan. His digits hover over the wetness that soaks through the fabric and he presses a little harder over your entrance.
“Fuck. You want me that bad, baby?”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for an answer. He starts to trail down, kissing a path from your chest down to between your legs. He’s peppering kisses all over your inner thighs and lower abdomen. You slightly writhe and whine, and he’s moving his hands to hold you from your thighs. He looks up at you, eyes dark and hooded. He ducks his head, while keeping eye contact, as he presses a hard kiss over your clit. You moan, and he’s smirking as his lips are still on you.
He moves his fingers under the side of your panties, tugging it a bit. “Can I?”
You bite you lip, nod, and he pulls them off for you.
He settles back between your legs, looking between them before looking back up at you with a devilish smile. He slips his hands to the underside of your thighs, propping them up a little, giving him better access.
And without another warning, he goes right in.
Tongue finds your clit immediately, causing you to gasp, back arching from the couch.
Your response only spurs Jungkook further. You feel him everywhere and exactly where you need him all at once. You don’t know how he does it. It’s not the first time someone has eaten you out, but it’s definitely never felt like that.
Jungkook gives a particular precise lick, and you moan loudly, hands flying to his hair.
He looks up at you, eyes barely seen under his lids, and he grunts when your gaze meets.
The vibration sends you further, higher, and you tug at his hair with one hand while the other tries to catch the couch, something to hold onto. But you find Jungkook's forearm, grabbing it as it could help you. But it can’t.
Because the pace he is setting is almost animalistic, unleashed. And you don’t understand how it feels so good so soon.
Oh, god. You’re going to come embarrassingly fast.
You wish you could control it, wish you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
But fuck. It feels so good.
You’re a mess by now. Your moans are barely audible, throat dry from gasping for air.
And you’re getting closer and closer to the edge.
It's as if every movement of his mouth is precise, intentional, and deliberate in its meaning. You hate that he knows exactly what he's doing.
But oh god, you love this so much.
And when you think that that’s it, that you’re right there, just a little more and it’s done for you, Jungkook changes tactics.
His lips catch your clit, sucking on it lightly while his tongue does something you can’t explain. Because your brain can’t even grasp what the fuck is going on right now. How he managed to take you away from your pending orgasm while also making everything feel so much better.
It’s a height you never visited.
It’s so good, it’s almost too much.
You’re pretty sure you’re screaming by now. You don’t have much connection to reality at the moment. The only thing you can feel is Jungkook’s mouth between your legs.
Yet, he speeds up, moving his lips and tongue in sync to a faster rhythm.
This time, you’re rushing to the edge.
And before you can even grasp it, it comes crushing on you.
Strong, hard waves, making you shake and cry.
You’re gasping, moaning, trying to catch a single breath.
But before your orgasm even ends, Jungkook is pushing a finger into you. Curling it up and moving faster and faster.
You try to prop yourself a little up, to look at him with wide eyes through the haze of your pleasure. “J-Jung— ah fuck” he looks up at you, but he doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop.
The opposite, he adds another finger, quicking his pace.
It’s as if he’s a man on a mission—a mission to tear you apart, and he won’t stop until he’s completed it.
You flop back onto the couch, and your hands try to hold onto the cushions or grab something as your whole body trembles.
And it hits you again. Harder, faster, stronger. Like you never felt before.
And you hate to say it, but that was the best orgasm of your life.
When you start to come down from your second high—well, or maybe it's the first, you're not sure if you ever stopped coming—Jungkook finally pulls away.
He moves up and kisses your lower stomach before looking up at you with a smile—a sweet, pleased smile. You're still a shuddering mess beneath him, your gaze fixed on him, a hint of shock on your face at what just happened.
Jungkook lays on top of you, head resting on your chest.
“That was fun,” he murmurs, his voice contented.
You frown, hand going to push his head up so you could see his face.
“Aren’t you going to bring a condom?”
Jungkook is giving you a matching, mocking frown. “Didn’t you say that you won’t let me fuck you on the couch?”
You scoff and roll your eyes. “Jungkook!”
Because let’s be real. There's no way he actually planned for this to stop here.
Right?
“You want me this bad, baby?” he says in a teasing, fake sultry tone.
“Just go get the condom,” you grumble back.
He stands up, giving you a salute. “Ay ay, captain!” And he heads to his room.
You’re propped up on your elbows when he returns, practically skipping towards you with a condom in hand.
You watch him as he stops by the couch, pushing down his boxers.
Oh, shit.
Oh.
Shit.
You’re staring. You know you are. But you can’t help it.
Why does he look this good?
Yeah. You get it now.
You get why he’s so cocky.
The little shit.
Fucking hell. This is going to hunt you, doesn’t it?
You move your gaze up to his face, and he’s looking down at you with a huge smirk.
He tilts his head to the side.
He doesn’t even ask you if you like what you see.
Because he knows.
Fuck.
You hate this.
He opens the package before slowly rolling the condom on his dick. Keeping eye contact with you. Daring, or maybe waiting for you to say something.
You need to hold to the little bit of dignity left in you. So you won’t.
You’re also pretty sure his ego doesn’t need it.
When he’s done, he crawls back between your legs, big palms rubbing your thighs. He grabs behind your knees, lifting them, and folds your legs, gently resting your feet on the couch.
Without a word, he grabs the base of his dick with one hand, the other holding your hip, aligning his length with your folds.
But he doesn’t push in yet. He just looks back up at you.
He moves a tiny bit forward, making you feel like he's going to push in, making you let out a little gasp, but he doesn’t.
He just moves it around, playing with your folds.
He does it a couple more times. Each time, pushing a tinniest more in. Each time, you can feel your hole clench around nothing. Waiting for more. Making you whine with need. Leaving you aching.
Why is he trying to make you lose your mind?
When he does it for the ninth time, you whine loudly. You want to complain, to tell him to stop the teasing. “Junko–” But he drags his tip over your clit, making you moan.
And he fucking chuckles. A low, mean chuckle.
“What?” he asks with fake innocence.
“Stop playing.” You try to bite, to sound mad. But the little dick, well, not that it’s little, fuck, him. He’s the dick. A huge dick. Shit, no. He’ll never hear it from you. That fuckface, he pushes a mere millimeter in before leaning back.
You whine, “Jun–” and he moves the tip over your clit again, making the whine of his name hitch in your throat.
He smirks down at you. “Oh, baby,” he purrs mockingly. “I need to know what you want.” He tilts his head, waiting for your answer as he lazily drags his length over your folds.
You exhale through your nose, clearly infuriated.
“Jungkook,” you try to warn, attempting to sound stern.
He chuckles, a playful glint in his eyes. “What?”
He leans down, kissing you softly, a stark contrast to his earlier cocky behavior.
His hand round your back, unclasping your bra and pulling it aside.
“I really need to hear you say it,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot before he pulls back, kneeling above you.
You give him an even look. But you know, and he knows, that you’ll give in.
“Fine.” You say as harshly as you manage, with his cock pushing against your entrance.
“I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”
You roll your eyes. “Pleased?”
He smiles. A big boyish bunny smile. Not a smile you expect to see from someone inches from fucking you. “Very.”
Then, with a smooth and gentle but swift motion, he pushes in. You share a sound between a sigh and a moan as he bottoms out.
And just like that, all the cockiness has slipped out of him.
Jungkook stops like that. Deep inside of you, leaning above you just a little, breath heavy and uneven. His eyes widen, but as he tries to make a slight movement thrusting in, they shut down forcefully.
“Fuck.” He courses under his breath.
You feel the stretch, the slight burn. But he feels good, full.
You’d urge him to start moving, but you need to enjoy it. Finally, you have power over him. Finally, you whipped the smirk off his stupid face. You need to taunt him.
“What happened? Are you going to come already?” you say, your voice full of condescension.
He drops his head forward, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching, a quiet, barely audible laugh escaping him.
When he looks back up, his cocky persona is fully intact, that smug smirk returning to his face.
“Wasn’t expecting you to feel this good,” he says in a gruff voice, and you try to ignore the heat that it stirs in you. “But don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna enjoy every second of this.”
And before you can answer, he starts thrusting. Moving in and out of you with precise motion and increasing pace.
He holds your waist, stabilizing himself as he fucks you.
He fucks you good.
Shit.
He slides his hands to grab above your ass, gripping your thighs, pushing your legs up and apart, allowing him to get in deeper.
Jungkook grunts loudly from the new angle, and it causes you to open your eyes to look at him. You didn’t even realize you had closed them, to begin with.
He has a deep frown between his brows, skin shiny from breaking a slight sweat, maybe also from your slick that remained on him. He picks up the pace, letting out a sound between a sigh and a groan, biting his bottom lip hard.
With each thrust, you feel all the air pushes out of your lungs. Your whole body moves from the force of his hips hitting yours. And if he hadn’t held your hips, you're pretty sure you’d be pushed off the couch. You’re gonna be sore tomorrow.
Not that you can care right now. All you can think about is how Jungkook’s tip drags over your walls again and again. How he hits spots you didn’t feel before when he thrusts deeper. How his hands hold you firmly but they still stay gentle.
How he looks as he fuck you senseless. Like he’s trying to keep it together, on the edge of losing control, drowning in pleasure, completely immersed in the feeling of fucking you.
You can see he’s fighting to keep his eyes open. You can sense the slips of his movement, indicating he is trying his best to maintain the steady pace of his hips. You can feel his fingers twitch, not to hold you aggressively.
He grunts as he stills deep after a strong thrust, falling forward to lay on his forearms. His lips find yours in a soft kiss before he resumes the movement of his hips.
The pace is frantic, yet he still keeps his mount on yours as you moan with each thrust.
You can’t understand the contrast between the way he’s fucking you and the way he’s kissing you. It’s like your mouth and pussy are having a totally different experience. Like each gets an entirely different Jungkook.
Jungkook’s movements start to lose their rhythm; it’s subtle at first, but with the way you hear his chucked moan, you know he’s nearing his end. You know he’s doing his best to hold himself.
You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to push in deeper.
And he moans loudly, thrust getting messier. His movements become more and more shallow and rapid before he pushes one last time in, stilling deep inside of you. His whole body tensing before he collapses, forehead resting on yours, and you feel his dick twitches inside of you.
After a minute, he relaxes bit by bit. Shoulders losing their tension, and his lengt stops jerking, he let out a sigh and lays on top of you.
His head resting on your chest, one of his hands holding your hip as the other finds your hand to hold.
You’re still fuzzy, head floating from pleasure.
You lay like that for a few minutes, breaths still uneven.
You can feel the beating of his heart, and you think it’s in sync with yours.
It’s nice and warm. His weight feels right, comforting on you.
You’re starting to cool off. Feeling the sweat sticking you bodies together.
Your breath gets slower, steady. Your mind is starting to clear.
Both of you are quite before Jungkook giggles, then lets out a happy sigh as he moves his hands to pull you into a hug.
You really shouldn’t be here.
You should have gone to bed hours ago.
You shouldn’t have done this.
a/n2: (author note? at the end? who am I?) so, this is definitely the smuttiest smut I've posted so far. What are we thinking? How are we feeling? How do we think Jungkook feels? I'm honestly a bit anxious about how this chapter will be received, so I hope you liked it!
➺ genre; lveb!universe, you’ve been asking for this and i’m finally here to tell you that this is smut! nsfw! 18+! oral sex (receiving)! dirty talk! namjoon has a dirty mouth and y/n is into that!! y/n’s a great listener and namjoon is very into that!! also frosting is involved somewhere
➺ wordcount: 8.9k
➺ summary; y/n has a wet dream about namjoon and yoongi just wants to help his best friend get laid.
➺ what to expect; “it’s not a big deal or anything, but, uh… when were you planning on telling me about that nice little dream you had two weeks ago?”
➺ optional reading: here’s the link to la vie en bonsai if you haven’t read it yet or if you just want to experience the story all over again!
»»————- ☁️ ————-««
to say the least, yoongi is… confused.
in the three years that he’s been friends with you, he likes to think that he’s seen every single one of your emotions
but this?
this is different somehow… yet he can’t quite put his finger on what’s so different about it…
he’s seen elated y/n
he’s seen devastated y/n
he’s seen infuriated y/n
he’s seen stressed out y/n
but this y/n?
the starry-eyed and constantly looking like you’re day dreaming y/n?
REQUEST: “Can I request a slight sub!Yoongi please if you’re not too busy? Thank you!”
Rated M for good ol’ fashioned smut featuring a healthy dose of dirty talk ;) this one was definitely a character exercise for me, ahahaha! i can’t remember a single time i’ve written a male sub!! i don’t know if i even have before!!! but i had a lot of fun and it was an EXCITING CHALLENGE. i hope it’s up to scratch and you enjoy, anon!
Word count: 4k
Every time he left, you didn’t think you could miss him more. But you are always wrong.
note: wowie,, thank u for 1.5k and for being so patient 💛 i’m so happy to be ending this mini fic and to have been interacting with u all :) my apologies if this ch sucks LOL i'm so sick rn but i'm tired of rewriting n writing... so enj !!! it's been so fun and i can't wait for more fics to come in 2025 !!! kisses my kitties😽💓
⏱️ this part goes thru time skips!
💭 which bed chem jk moment was ur fave?
warnings: tension/slow burn (friends first yk),, mean!jk trying to figure out how to be nicer to oc,, jk calls oc baby and kitty !!! teasing/dry humping (bc jk has glasses on. jk plays with her titties/nipples & jk cums thru his sweatpants),, jealousy (v teeny tiny),, virginity talk/actual sex; oc loses her virginity to jk (jk eats her out/fingers her, ass slapping, dirty talk, rawdogging,, missionary, doggy, blowjob/headpushing & face cumshot)
//
it’s been a week since jungkook kissed you, and he has made it your problem.
truth be told, he has made a game of this—hovering without hovering… just close enough to test the line. whatever way he plays, jungkook is always shameless in the most subtle and maddening ways.
sometimes his hand brushes yours as you walk, light and fleeting… and it’s impossible not to notice the way his fingers twitch. it’s like he’s debating whether to grab it or not.
you don’t make it any easier on yourself, either.
there’s this suffocating tension between you two and some days are better than others… like today.
“why are you so quiet?” you ask, glancing at him over your shoulder.
he tilts his head, feigning confusion.
“why? does the silence make your heart race?”
you scoff, rolling your eyes, and that’s when he strikes—his foot nudging yours mid-step. it’s just enough to throw you off balance, making you stumble slightly, your bag slipping again.
“jungkook!”
he’s already reaching out, catching the strap before it can fall.
“careful,” he says, his voice all mock concern, but the way his lips twitch gives him away.
you glare at him, yanking your bag out of his grip.
“you’re the one who tripped me.”
“prove it."
"seriously?"
"if you can't prove it... you have to kiss me. you know, as compensation for accusing me so unjustly." he says, wide-eyed and innocent, though the corners of his mouth are curling into a smirk.
it’s infuriating, but it’s also... not.
not when he’s looking at you like that, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin and is thoroughly enjoying it.
“do friends kiss?” you narrow your gaze at him. “do friends trip each other over? do friends—“
“do friends wait for each other?” jungkook leans towards you. “mhmm? do friends have ulterior motives—”
“you have ulterior motives?”
“oh, absolutely.”
friendship.
it’s odd to say the least—the way you and jungkook have fallen into this friendship. that’s what you’ve both agreed on.
friends.
but the lines are blurry.
so blurry they might as well not exist at all… because what kind of friends kiss on the cheek as casually as saying hello? what kind of friends text each other goodnight every single evening, or linger too long in conversations that could end with a simple goodbye?
the rules of your agreement feel more like suggestions—ones jungkook seems intent on bending just enough to keep you guessing. and you let him, which might be the strangest part of all.
… because deep down, you know this isn’t just friendship. not with the way he looks at you, his gaze lingering a second too long, or the way his touch always feels like a question he’s waiting for you to answer.
but maybe that’s the thing about blurry lines—they give you just enough room to pretend you don’t already know where you’re headed.
yet, even with all his teasing, there’s a hesitancy to him sometimes—a split-second pause when your hands brush, a quiet shift in his expression when he catches you looking at him. it’s like he’s still figuring out how to balance whatever this is between you, testing the waters but not wanting to dive in too fast.
and honestly?
you feel the same.
it’s why you let him get away with stuff like this. why you don’t pull away when his hand accidentally-on-purpose brushes yours for the third time in as many minutes. why you don’t tell him to stop following you to your study spot or showing up outside your class with some excuse about “just being in the area.”
because the truth is, you like having him around.
you like the way he keeps you on your toes… even if it’s by trying to trip you up, only to catch you before you fall.
and maybe—just maybe—you like the way his smile softens sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking.
tonight, the group decides on a night out.
the street food spot everyone agreed on is already buzzing when you get there, the warm glow of string lights crisscrossing above the narrow alleyways, casting soft shadows on the busy stalls below. the air is alive with the scent of sizzling tteokbokki and freshly steamed hotteok, mingling with bursts of laughter and the occasional pop of oil from a nearby grill.
you arrive late as usual.
by the time you weave your way through the crowd, the others have scattered, splitting up to hunt down whatever caught their eye.
that’s when you spot him.
jungkook leans lazily against a lamppost near the edge of the main street, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a stick of half-eaten odeng. the glow from the lights above reflects faintly in his dark eyes, making them look warmer than usual, though his expression stays comfortably neutral—like he’s been waiting.
but he doesn’t mind.
“you’re late,” he says as you approach, not even bothering to straighten up. his voice is low, unbothered, but there’s something teasing in the way his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smirk.
“i’m literally 5 minutes late.”
“still late.”
jungkook takes one last bite of the fish cake before tossing the stick into a nearby bin. he steps closer, casual but deliberate, and before you can come up with a snappy reply, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.
it’s smooth—too smooth.
it’s like he’s been doing it forever.
you barely have time to register the warmth blooming in your chest before he’s grabbing your hands, shoving them unceremoniously into the front pocket of his hoodie along with his own.
“jungkook—”
“your hands looked cold,” he says simply, his tone light, like this is the most natural thing in the world.
his fingers shift slightly, brushing against yours, and though his expression stays neutral, you catch the subtle curve of his mouth—the smug kind he tries to hide but never quite manages.
you roll your eyes, more out of habit than anything else, and let out a sigh...
but you don’t pull away.
“i have gloves.”
“they're ugly."
you glare at him.
"... and you have me."
the air stills.
“what?” he asks, his shoulder bumping yours as he starts walking, steering you toward the first row of stalls.
“nothing.”
but the corner of your mouth twitches. you try to hold back your smile.
he catches it, of course.
his grin widens, soft and slow.
jungkook nudges you again, this time with more intention. you can feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric, steady and sure, even as the cold night air bites at your skin.
you can't help but give in. a laugh escapes your lips as you nudge him back. jungkook laughs too, but pulls you close at the very last second.
he breathes you in.
the first stall serves fresh tteokbokki, steaming and spicy. the scent alone makes your stomach growl, but jungkook is already a step ahead, paying for the food before you can reach for your wallet.
“you didn’t have to do that,” you say, trying to grab a pair of chopsticks from the tray.
he beats you to it, of course, picking up a piece of tteokbokki with the kind of exaggerated precision that makes you squint at him. then, he places the chopsticks in between your fingers.
“feed me," he says.
“absolutely not."
he steps closer.
“okay, fine. i’ll feed you—”
you shove the tteok in his mouth.
he chews, chuckling and enjoying your choice.
“you’re so annoying,” you tell him as he swallows.
“really? am i?”
“really. you are."
jungkook shrugs.
then, he takes the chopsticks and picks up a tteok, and feeds you. he watches closely as you chew, his wide eyes fixed on your face in a way that makes you feel exposed.
“how annoying?”
in between chews, you fixate on his smirk. as he leans into level with you, you almost choke at how his nose nearly brushed yours. you can feel the weight of his gaze, daring you to say something.
“jungkook…” you warn, your voice flat, but your hands betray you. they reach up to cup his cheeks, and though your intention is to shove him back, you don’t.
instead, your thumbs press lightly against the soft skin of his jaw as you squint at him.
“what’s this smile?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “what are you so excited over, bestie?”
his expression flickers for a second, his brows twitching in annoyance at the word. you know he hates it when you call him that. bestie? who are you even talking to?
“your lips look cold. can i warm them up for you?” he asks suddenly, his voice dropping low enough to send shivers down your spine.
you scoff, warmth creeping up your neck. “nice try—”
“no, no, i insist,” he interrupts, tilting his head slightly, pretending to think it over. “don't want you to be all cold and shit.”
“jungkook.” your tone is sharp, but it’s laced with amusement, and he knows it.
“what?” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his lips curving into a smirk. “you said you want to take things slow. i’ll kiss you real slow—”
your jaw drops.
“you’re impossible.”
he stands back up with a grin, his hands still in the pocket of his hoodie, keeping yours snugly tucked inside. he rocks back on his heels, clearly pleased with himself.
“let’s not pretend we don’t know what we know.”
“i don’t know much,” you retort, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “i’m not a nerd—”
“yah! hurry up!” taehyung’s voice booms from a stall across the street, breaking the moment. you glance over to find him waving dramatically, his other arm slung around yoongi, who looks less than thrilled.
“we found the mandu!” taehyung adds.
“mandu sounds good,” jungkook says as he gives your hands a small squeeze. then, he gently pulls you toward the others. "let's go."
“stop dragging me around,” you complain, though you don’t actually try to pull away.
“you’re walking too slow.”
but you aren’t.
you know you aren’t and so does he… but you let him hold your hand anyway.
a week later, jungkook feels like he might piss himself.
he leans against the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone for the 5th time in as many minutes. his thumb hovers over the screen, debating whether to check his messages again, even though he knows there’s no point.
you haven’t replied yet.
the fundraiser for marine conservation is tonight, and he’s been pretending it’s no big deal... but fuck.
he was so nervous when he asked you to go with him and now he feels like all his efforts are being wasted.
...
“so, uh,” he starts, his voice a little too casual, “there’s this fundraiser gala thing on friday night. save the dolphins thing—a-and… it’s no big deal but—”
you glance at him, eyebrows raised.
“yeah? sounds fancy.”
he shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “i guess it is. it’s a black-tie kind of event… and i, uh… i was thinking... maybe you’d want to come with me?”
you blink, caught off guard by the sudden invite.
“i hate dolphins.”
“i know.”
you sigh, pretending to be burdened by his request. “but i’ll go. if you want me to.”
“i do want you to.”
“okay.”
“good,” he breathes, glancing over with a lopsided grin that he hopes hides how nervous he actually feels. “you’ll make me look good. people are suckers for pretty dates.”
“oh, so you’re using me as a prop?” you tease, though your lips twitch into a smirk.
“obviously,” he replies smoothly, though his grip on the wheel tightens slightly. “but, hey, it’s a dinner, you get to see my in a tux which is practically dessert—.”
you shake your head, laughing softly.
“you’re ridiculous.”
“so ridiculous that this can count as our first date?” he presses, glancing over again, this time with a flicker of uncertainty he hopes you don’t catch.
after a beat, you sigh dramatically, turning in your seat to face him.
“it’s a date.”
just as he’s about to make another comment, you lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek, catching him completely off guard. his hands freeze on the wheel for half a second before he recovers.
“you missed—”
you laugh and hit his chest. then, he gets out of the car, helps you out, and walks you to your doorstep.
...
now, as he sits alone in his room, the anticipation bubbling just under his skin, his phone buzzes on the counter. his heart skips for a moment before he grabs it, only to feel it sink as he reads your message.
yn [4:31PM]: nurse said it’s food poisoning
yn [4:32PM]: she gave me some meds to help but i literally feel like shit
yn [4:33PM]: i don’t think i’ll be able to make it tonight, baby :( i’m so sorry
nerd [4:34PM]: don’t apologize. i’ll be over in a bit
yn [4:35PM]: what ?? no !! get ready for your event. it’s important
nerd [4:35PM]: so are u
yn [4:36PM]: i’ll survive. go save the dolphins :p
his brows knit together as he reads it again, leaning back into the couch with a frustrated sigh.
he knows he shouldn’t feel disappointed—you can’t control being sick, and it’s not like this event means anything special.
at least, that’s what he’s been telling himself.
still, he stares at the message for a long moment, debating whether to reply right away or wait a few minutes so he doesn’t seem too eager. his fingers hover over the keyboard before he finally types out a response, keeping it short and light, like he’s unbothered.
nerd [4:40PM]: get some rest. i’ll be telling everyone you ditched me tho
yn [4:41PM]: be sure to let the dolphins know too 🙂
he lets out a chuckle, but the weight in his chest doesn’t go away.
he tosses his phone onto the coffee table and rakes a hand through his hair, wondering why the idea of showing up without you feels so much worse than he’d expected.
then, his phone buzzes with messages from the fundraiser committee.
yet, he can only think of you… it’s a sinking feeling in his chest.
you’re sick.
the thought of going to that event while you’re home feeling miserable doesn’t sit right with him.
he sighs, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his head. he knows this is unprofessional and such an pussy excuse but—forget the event.
it’s you that matters to him the most right now.
so, jungkook calls his event and lets them know that something came up. he tosses aside his tux and puts on comfier clothes before heading to the kitchen to make you some chicken noodle soup.
before he heads out, jungkook hears a familiar groan from the living room. he turns, already annoyed, knowing exactly who it is.
jimin and taehyung are stretched out on the couch, looking like they’ve been hit by a truck.
their faces are pale, eyes glassy with fever, and they groan as they shift under the blanket. it’s obvious they’re just as sick as you, if not worse.
“yo, jungkook,” taehyung calls out, voice nasally, “did you make soup? be a good boy and give us some—”
jimin, equally pitiful, sits up a little and gives jungkook a pleading look. “yeah, we’re starving, man. plus, you’re not gonna leave us to die alone, right?”
jungkook raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.
“you won’t die from starvation.”
“how are you so sure?”
“cos i’ll kill you first,” jungkook snorts. “you guys got my girl sick with that stupid omelet you made her.”
the two of them groan in response, sitting up slowly. taehyung rubs his face with his hand. “we didn’t mean to! bro, look at us. you think we wanted this? we’re sick, too, you know.”
“yeah,” jimin adds, “there’s two friends sick here for you to take care of.”
jungkook just looks at them, his gaze hard.
“who do you think i’m gonna choose right now?”
jimin squints, looking him up and down. “don’t you have that gala tonight?”
jungkook hesitates for a split second, but quickly shakes his head, giving them a dismissive wave.
“it got canceled.” he lies.
then, he turns away to head out the door. before he leaves he yells; “i’ll text yoongi hyung to make you some soup. don’t bother me. not coming home tonight.”
about 25 minutes later, jungkook stands in front of your doorway and his gaze falls on you as you open the door.
you're wearing his oversized t-shirt, hair up in a messy bun, and a pair of shorts—looking exhausted and a little pale. his stomach churns with worry, but he keeps his cool as always.
"what are you doing here? the gala..." you trail off, but before he can answer, you quickly turn and rush to the bathroom.
"shit," he mutters under his breath, following you at a steady pace.
when he enters the bathroom, you're already kneeling over the toilet, retching. his heart drops, but he doesn’t flinch. moving to your side, he gently pats your back.
“it was this bad?” he grumbles, a frown pulling at his lips. “why were you downplaying it through text?”
you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, barely acknowledging him.
“i’m fine, seriously. just... just a little nausea.”
“fuck, ___..” he snaps, but his voice isn’t angry, more like exasperated. "this is stupid. you can’t be alone if you can’t even handle standing up to get the door without throwing up. are you fucking serious?." his eyes are narrowing now, the concern clear despite his snappy tone. “what the hell, ___?"
you sit back on the floor, leaning against the wall, your face pale.
“i already bailed on the date. i couldn’t let you bail on the gala entirely.”
he shoots you a look, incredulous.
“you think I’d rather be at a gala without you? honestly?”
“i just—"
“shut up,” he interrupts, his voice softer but firm. "you need someone. i’m here. deal with it."
there’s no room for argument in his voice.
you give him a tired smile despite the situation, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“you shouldn’t be here, though.”
“say that again.”
your lips tighten.
then, you gag and rush back to the toilet bowl. jungkook remains by your side, rubbing your back as you deal with another wave of nausea.
the moment is quiet except for the soft sounds of you breathing in between. for a second, it almost feels like everything has stopped, like it’s just the two of you in your small bathroom, nothing else in the world mattering.
after 40 minutes of hovering over the toilet, jungkook gets you settled on the couch.
he brings you water and asks if you’re down for some food. he brought over chicken noodle soup and you need to have something in your stomach before taking your medicine. you simply agree and wait for him to serve you.
as you eat the soup, he scrolls through netflix and plays something. he talks for most of it and it helps distract you from feeling the full extent of your sickness. after you’ve eaten some of the soup he brought, you ask him to grab the medicine from your bag.
“can you grab the other medicine bottle from my bag? the one the nurse gave me?”
jungkook, of course, doesn’t hesitate.
he gets up and finds your bag in your bedroom. he pulls open your bag and begins rummaging through it, looking for the bottle. when his hand brushes against something thick and solid, he pulls out a book titled, “everything you need to know about dolphins a to z.”
his eyebrows furrow for a second as he stares down at it.
he doesn’t know why, but a strange warmth spreads through him. it’s pretty obvious why you have this book—but seeing it in your bag... it makes him pause.
his lips tighten slightly as he puts the book back down in your bag, quickly hiding his reaction. he doesn’t want you to see how much it’s affecting him right now.
when he returns with the medicine, his expression’s back to its usual, nonchalant self. as much as jungkook wants to pretend like he didn’t see it or that seeing it didn’t matter—he can’t.
to him, it mattered.
it mattered a lot.
a few days later, you’re sitting across from jungkook in the library.
the late afternoon sun streaming through the tall windows and casting a golden glow over the table. textbooks and notebooks are scattered between you, his handwriting messier than yours but still oddly charming. you’re mid-sentence, asking him about his opinion on a the newest theory you learned during your lecture when he suddenly tugs off his crewneck, revealing the black t-shirt clinging to his frame underneath.
it’s warm in the library, the kind of cozy heat that sneaks up on you, and he doesn’t think twice about it.
but you do.
“woah—” you blurt out, your question forgotten as your gaze catches on his arms. you've seen his tattoos before but for some reason... they look different to you now.
they appeal different to you.
jungkook looks up from his notes, brows raised.
“what?”
you blink, trying to refocus, but your eyes betray you, flickering back to the ink winding its way down his arm.
“your tattoos,” you say, almost dazed. “they’re... really hot.”
“think so?”
“yeah,” you admit. “gets me horny. ”
you then feel the warmth crawl up your neck as the words leave your mouth. you quickly look back down at your notes, hoping the earth might just swallow you whole.
jungkook freezes for a moment, the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of pink. then he shakes his head, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. it’s not his usual confident grin—it’s softer, like he’s caught off guard but not in a bad way.
he doesn’t say anything, just ducks his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hold back a laugh.
you try to ignore the way he shifts in his seat, casually stretching his arms behind his head like he’s showing off—not that he’d ever admit it...
for the next two weeks, jungkook suddenly seems allergic to long sleeves.
he starts showing up in short-sleeved t-shirts, rolling his sleeves higher than necessary when he wears his uniform jacket, and leaning in just a little closer when he knows your gaze will drift.
“you’re shameless,” you mumble one day, catching him flexing—not subtly—while reaching for a book on the top shelf.
“what?” he asks innocently, glancing down at you with those wide eyes that don’t match the smirk tugging at his lips.
you roll your eyes, biting back a grin.
“you’re annoying.”
“why? are you horny?” he says, his voice low enough to make you want to shove him.
you don’t answer, but the way you avoid his gaze—and the small smile tugging at your lips—says enough. he notices, of course, because he always does.
after a few moments of silence, you huff at him.
"is everything you say always so... dirty?"
he shrugs.
"you brought up being horny first..."
"yeah, but—"
"you think i'm dirty?" jungkook interrupts you. "should i shower?"
you scoff at him. before you can say anything, he adds;
"you’d join me though, right?"
a month later, jungkook does it again.
you find yourself standing in the middle of your apartment—he shows up.
your phone is clutched tightly in your hand as you try to blink away the tears threatening to spill. the call you just had—a frustrating, heart-wrenching argument with your family—leaves you feeling raw and small. the weight of their words presses heavily on your chest, and all you can do is stare blankly at the mess of papers scattered on your desk.
a sharp knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. you freeze, wiping at your cheeks hastily, but the door creaks open before you can say anything.
"is that my hoodie?"
"jungkook—"
“you haven't been answering my texts all day,” jungkook says, stepping in without waiting for an invitation. he’s holding a bag of takeout.
"everything okay?"
“i’m fine,” you say, your voice shaky despite your best efforts to sound convincing.
he narrows his eyes at you, placing the takeout and hoodie on your coffee table before crossing his arms.
“yeah, no.”
you try to argue, but he’s already moving, shrugging off his jacket and plopping onto the couch like he owns the place.
“whatever it is, you don’t have to talk about it right now,” he says, pulling out containers of food. “but you do have to eat. and i’m not leaving until you do.”
your throat tightens at his matter-of-fact tone, his presence somehow both comforting and overwhelming. he doesn’t pry, doesn’t demand to know what happened.
“you didn’t have to come,” you murmur, sinking onto the couch beside him.
“yeah, i did,” he replies, handing you a pair of chopsticks. “and don’t even think about pretending you’re not hungry.”
a small, shaky laugh escapes you, the tension in your chest loosening just a little.
“you’re so annoying.”
“friends are supposed to annoy each other. learned that shit from you.”
jungkook’s door swings open with a suddenness that startles him.
the faint squeak of the hinges cuts through the quiet. he’s mid-motion, towel slung around his neck, tugging a loose white shirt over his head when you stroll in without so much as a knock. he’s also wearing grey sweatpants…
wet hair, white shirt, and grey sweats?
the holy trinity.
“you know,” he begins to scold you. “boundaries exist for a reason.”
he shakes his damp hair as you plop onto his bed like it’s yours.
“boundaries?” you scoff, grabbing your plushie. your precious hello kitty plushie. “this is practically my second home.”
he doesn’t argue, just lets out a quiet chuckle as he pulls the hem of his shirt down.
holding up the plushie like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. “can i take her home today?”
“sure,” jungkook says, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of teasing confidence and barely veiled challenge. he leans against his desk, arms crossed, watching with a smirk as you clutch the hello kitty plushie tightly to your chest, as if it’s your only lifeline against his charm.
“can i be your boyfriend today?”
you groan, throwing yourself back onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, the plushie landing on your face.
“seriously? you’re really holding this poor plushie hostage?”
he laughs, low and amused, pushing off the desk and taking a few steps closer.
“a deal’s a deal,” he says lightly, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he towers over you. “you can take her home—when you’re my girl.”
you yank the plushie off your face, sitting up sharply.
“do you think we’re better friends?” you huff, your tone indignant but your heart racing under the weight of his gaze.
jungkook crouches slightly, leaning in until his face is just a few inches from yours. his smirk softens into something more playful, but the shift in proximity makes your stomach flip.
“i think so…” he murmurs, his eyes flickering between your face and the plushie pressed against your chest. “aside from me trying to kiss you every chance i get and you being horny every time you see my tattoos—”
you narrow your eyes at him, holding the plushie tighter, as if it’s a shield against the way he’s looking at you.
“you’re unbelievable.”
“and yet,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave as he moves even closer, one hand bracing on the bed beside your knee, the other reaching out to gently brush his fingers over the plushie’s soft fabric. “here you are.”
his free hand slides around your waist, tugging you just slightly toward him, and your breath hitches. “but if you don’t want her…” he teases, his voice trailing off as his face inches closer to yours. his gaze dips briefly to your lips, and before you can fully process it, he’s leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.
except you shove hello kitty between you two just in time.
“nope!” you say quickly, holding the plushie up like a barrier, your cheeks flaming as you hear him laugh, the sound vibrating through the air between you.
“seriously?” he says, pulling back just enough to raise an eyebrow, though his grin never falters. his hand stays firm at your waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt in slow, lazy circles. “you’re really using her to block me?”
“you started it,” you shoot back, glaring at him even as your grip on the plushie tightens.
“fair,” he admits with a chuckle, straightening up slightly but keeping his hold on you. his other hand moves to tap the plushie’s head. “but the deal still stands. not my girlfriend, not your hello kitty.”
“you’re ridiculous.”
he tilts his head, his grin softening, though his hand still lingers at your waist, his warmth impossible to ignore.
“i don’t know,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. “sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”
you glare at him again, this time with less heat, and shove the plushie into his chest.
“you’re insufferable.”
he laughs, taking the plushie from your hands but not letting you go.
“maybe,” he says, “but you’re still here.”
hours later, the room is quiet except for the soft scratch of jungkook’s pen against paper and the occasional shuffle of his chair as he shifts at his desk. you’re curled up on his bed, the hello kitty plushie still clutched against your chest, your breaths slow and steady as sleep overtakes you.
he glances back at you every now and then, a small, unspoken fondness softening his features. when you stir, rubbing your eyes and sitting up, he turns back to his notes, feigning nonchalance.
you pad over to him, your steps muffled against the carpet. without a word, you slip onto his lap, one arm draping lazily over his shoulders as you pluck his glasses from his face.
“good nap?” he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation as you slide the frames onto your own nose. “those—”
squinting dramatically, you nag him; “ugh, how do you even function with these? everything’s blurry.”
“that’s because they’re prescription, genius,” he says, reaching for them, but you lean back, keeping them out of his reach.
“maybe i’ll keep these,” you tease, poking at the side of his head. “you can’t study without them, can you?”
“give them back, or i’m kicking you off my lap,” he warns, though his hands settle firmly on your waist instead of following through on his threat.
“yeah, sure... because you hate this so much.”
“try me,” he challenges, his grip tightening just slightly as if to prove his point.
“you’re so bossy,” you grumble, sliding the glasses off and placing them haphazardly on his desk. “happy now?”
“ecstatic,” he says dryly, though his lips twitch upward.
you lean closer, your face just inches from his, your playful smirk softening into something quieter, more genuine.
“you know, you’re really cute when you’re all serious, studious, and grumpy.”
“and you’re kind of annoying when you don’t let me finish studying,” he shoots back, though there’s no real bite to his words.
“fine, fine,” you say, preparing to climb off his lap with exaggerated dramatics. “go be a nerd. i’ll be over there cuddling hello kitty—”
“i could use a 5 minute break.”
you fix your posture, perking up.
“really?” you tilt your head at him. “i mean… i’d hate to distract you.”
“really?” he mocks you. “you’re sitting on my lap and moving your hips and yet—you’d hate to distract me, huh?”
you nod innocently. then, you shrug and confess;
“i’m bored.”
“what do you want me to do about that? this final is really important—f-fuck. ___, don’t move like that.”
you shift again.
“like what?”
“you know what you’re—”
“what am i doing?” you ask, leaning your body closer to his. you caress his face and pout at him. “is 5 minutes even considered a break? don’t you need more time?”
“more time for what?” jungkook lowers his gaze at you.
“i don’t know,” you giggle. “what do you wanna do?”
jungkook can’t take it.
playing cat and dog or whatever this bullshit is.
you’re on top of him, prettier than ever. you’re wearing a low-cut tank top with a fucking bow in the middle… and he can’t breathe anything in except you. what is he supposed to do right now?
“___… if you don’t get off me—”
“if i don’t get off you… what?”
you smile at him softly. shifting again, you drag your hips towards him. his eyes widen.
“i might cum.”
you pout. “really?”
jungkook swallows.
“keep moving your hips like that and you’ll find out soon.”
“oh…”
a beat.
“like this?”
before he knows it, you’re humping him.
he grunts as he feels himself harden under you. you bite your bottom lip as you drag your hips back and forth. you feel the pressure against your clit as your clothes rub together.
jungkook hisses at your pace.
“f-fuck..”
as he bucks his lips, he places his hands on your waist, helping your movement. you let out a few breathy moans and jungkook feels like he could die.
you’re so pretty.
his hands tighten around you when he senses that you’re close.
“am i doing this right? it feels—feels g-good.”
“yeah? feels good, baby?” jungkook breathes.
“mhmm…”
“do you feel my dick?” he asks. “feel how hard it is against your fucking pussy?”
“i do,” you moan. “so big, jungkook. can i take it soon?”
he hisses.
“promise me,” you whine. “promise me that you’ll fuck me soon.”
jungkook’s breath hitches.
he was wrong.
that time he ran his mouth about your virginity being too much or a burden or something—fuck was he wrong.
it’s not a burden.
it’s the greatest privilege he could ever be given… now to have you like this? begging like that? holy shit is he more than ready to give you anything and everything you want.
“promise, baby,” he says. “promise it’s gonna be me.”
you nod, happy with his answer.
and just as you’re about to continue, you take his hands to your tits. first, he squeezes them… then you guide them to the strap of your tank top. taking the cue, jungkook tugs your straps down, revealing your bare tits.
“___…” he moans. “shit.”
you bring his hands to your tits again, helping him cup them. as you hump him with more intensity, jungkook’s mouth parts. your tits bounce up and down and it sends shivers down his spine. your tits are so full in his hands and so fucking perfect up close. he loves all of it—the shape, the size, the way it feels… so soft. he’s always been an ass type of guy but holy shit—your tits are a game changer for him.
nevertheless, he tries to focuses on you.
“bouncy.”
“yeah?” you pant. “you like them?”
jungkook nods pathetically.
he fights shutting his eyes. he wants to remember all of this. every detail.
how hard he is right now. how hard your nipples are and how they feel being played in between his fingers. he runs his thumb around them, pressing, squeezing, and tugging… he loves how your moans sound—like they’re music to his ears… he can’t… he can’t picture anything else. he can’t hear anything else. he can’t breathe anything in but you.
“jungkook…” you cry, feeling yourself about to climax.
“s-shit,” he hisses as you begin to whimper.
the humping is great.
amazing in fact—but the way you’re whimpering right now?
fuck.
“jungkook,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath. “a-are you close? mhmmm… f-fuck!”
you hump him faster and harder. he lets out a few moans before sharply inhaling—
“o-ohh,” jungkook moans. “nghhhh… fuck.”
you grind on him slowly, easing his release. his crotch area is wet, making an obvious stain on his grey sweatpants.
he throws his head back. you lean over and kiss his neck. he bites his lip, attempting to hide his smile.
a silence fills the room.
you two are in total disbelief.
then, you shift and he places his hands on your waist again.
“did you cum?”
he lets out a chuckle. “yeah. did you?”
“i think so? i don’t know.”
“sorry,” he sighs, a little disappointed you didn’t get to finish. “do you wanna—”
“it’s fine that i didn’t come. i had fun…”
jungkook shakes his head. “no, it’s okay. i can—”
“can i see?”
jungkook blinks at you.
“what?”
“you came right?”
“yeah—”
“can i see what your cum looks like?”
some days with jungkook are so easy, it’s almost laughable.
the dynamic feels less like a friendship and more like a game you’re both playing—teasing, flirting, seeing how far you can push before one of you finally gives in.
but then there are days like this.
it’s been 3 month and a half since the kiss, and the comfort between you has grown in a way that makes everything feel light, almost effortless. you’re more yourself around him, and he’s let down his walls in ways you didn’t even realize were there.
still, sometimes, you push his buttons just a little too hard.
today is one of those days.
it starts with a series of texts.
your usual banter that, for whatever reason, strikes a nerve.
maybe he’s stressed, or maybe you’re just too good at knowing exactly how to get under his skin. either way, it doesn’t take long before his responses turn clipped, each word laced with an irritation you’re not used to seeing from him.
yn [1:41PM]: C₄₃H₆₆N₁₂O₁₂S₂
nerd [1:48PM]: 😳
yn [1:50PM]: am i speaking ur language
nerd [1:53PM]: fluently, yes
yn [1:54PM]: cool. dohwan taught me it
yn [1:55PM]: what does it mean
nerd [1:59PM]: not funny.
yn [2:00PM]: why am i laughing then
seen
yn [2:01PM]: aw don’t get all mad
nerd [2:08PM]: not mad. jus uninterested in this topic.
yn [2:10PM]: i’m sorry
seen
yn [2:14PM]: sorry :(
yn [2:15PM]: jungkook !!!
yn [2:16PM]: wanna make out?
typing…
nerd [2:21PM]: yes
you don’t mean for it to escalate, but by the time you realize he’s genuinely annoyed, it’s too late to fix it over text. you bite your lip, staring at your phone, debating your next move.
and then, because you’re you, you grab your bag and head straight for his lab.
jungkook’s reputation precedes him on campus.
professors practically gloat about having him in their classes, like his achievements are trophies they get to display. it isn’t just his grades or his research—it’s the way he carries himself. sure, he's a little antisocial but he's focused, driven, and somehow still effortlessly cool.
you always knew he was smart, but seeing him in his element, tucked away in the chemistry lab during his solo hours, is something else entirely.
the lab is a world of its own.
notes scrawled in sharp, precise handwriting cover the workspace, surrounded by neatly labeled vials, bubbling solutions, and meticulous arrangements of equipment.
jungkook stands at the center of it all, wearing a crisp lab coat with the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the ink decorating his forearms. protective goggles perch on his nose, and his brows furrow as he scribbles something into a notebook. he’s intimidatingly focused, and for a moment, you hesitate in the doorway.
he notices the movement immediately, his sharp eyes snapping up to meet yours. for a beat, his expression doesn’t change, and your stomach churns with nerves under his scrutinizing gaze.
“what are you doing here?”
“i, uh…” you shift awkwardly, trying to find your footing under his intense stare. “i wanted to check on you. you seemed upset earlier.”
jungkook exhales, a hand dragging through his dark hair, slightly disheveling the strands sticking out under the goggles. his posture stiffens slightly before he stands straighter, folding his arms across his chest.
“i’m fine,” he says, the words clipped and automatic, like he’s said them a hundred times before.
he doesn’t look at you again after that, instead turning back to the dense notebook in front of him. his pen taps against the edge of the table, a sharp, rhythmic sound that fills the silence between you.
you glance around, taking in the scrawled notes and bubbling glassware, and suddenly, you feel like an intruder.
this isn’t just a workspace; it’s his domain, and you’re a trespasser.
“right,” you whisper. “sorry. i just—”
your words catch as his head snaps up again, this time really looking at you. his dark eyes flick to the way you stand there, hands shoved deep into your jacket pockets, shoulders hunched slightly, and chewing the inside of your cheek.
the tension in his jaw softens, and he exhales again, but this time, it’s quieter, almost resigned. his shoulders relax as he sets the pen down, giving you his full attention now.
“do you want a tour?” he asks, his voice losing some of its earlier sharpness.
you blink at him, caught off guard.
“really?”
he shrugs, a small, almost reluctant smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“yeah. just… don’t touch anything.”
you hesitate, unsure if this is a genuine offer or just him humoring you. but the way his gaze lingers—softer now, like he’s extending an olive branch—makes you take a small step forward.
“you’re sure?” you ask cautiously, your weight shifting between your feet.
“wouldn’t have offered if i wasn’t,” he says, already turning to gather a few items from the cluttered table.
his words are casual, but there’s something unspoken in the way he says them. it’s as if he’s acknowledging your effort without outright saying it, inviting you into a space you know he doesn’t share lightly.
“okay,” you say softly, stepping closer as he gestures to the setup in front of him.
jungkook guides you through the lab, his hand casually finding its way to the small of your back as he gestures to the next setup. the touch is subtle but grounding, the heat of his palm against your waist sending a quick flutter of awareness through you. his fingers rest there, steady, as he moves you along with a quiet confidence, his focus more on the equipment than the way your heart picks up its pace.
“this is my catalytic synthesis project,” he starts, motioning to the crowded workspace. his tone is calmer now, almost instructional as if falling into the rhythm of explaining makes it easier to let his guard down.
as he starts detailing his work, his body language shifts. his shoulders loosen, and the furrow in his brow disappears as he picks up a flask of pale yellow liquid. his hand moves with precise confidence, holding it up to the light as if to showcase his work.
“what does that even mean?” you ask, leaning in closer to inspect the array of equipment.
“it’s about creating biodiesel,” he explains, holding up a sheet of paper covered in equations and diagrams. “basically, i’m optimizing the reaction process to make it more efficient. fewer byproducts, higher yield.”
you blink, squinting at the equations like they might magically make sense.
“that’s cool… i think. but how do you even do that?”
he chuckles, the sound low and surprisingly soft.
“this,” he says, holding the flask again. “this is the feedstock. it’s like the base oil we start with. i mix it with methanol and a catalyst—”
“wait,” you interrupt, raising a hand. “what’s a catalyst?”
his lips twitch into a small grin, clearly amused by your cluelessness.
“a catalyst is a substance that speeds up a chemical reaction without being consumed in the process.”
you nod as if you understand, but the tilt of your head gives you away.
jungkook sets the flask down and leans a hip against the table, crossing his arms loosely. “okay, think of it like this. imagine you’re cooking something. the catalyst is like the pan—it doesn’t get eaten, but it helps everything cook faster.”
“ohhh,” you say, the metaphor finally clicking. “why didn’t you just say that from the start?”
he raises an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “because i thought you were smart enough to keep up.”
“wow,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “i come here to check on you, and this is the thanks i get?”
he shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping him as he nudges your shoulder lightly with his. “first of all, you annoyed me. second of all, you’re the one who wanted a tour. i’m just giving you the full experience.”
“oh, sorry—” you let out a shallow laugh. “should i leave then—”
jungkook shakes his head and points to another setup—a small beaker bubbling over a hot plate.
“look! this is the reaction in progress. that bubbling? that’s the methanol reacting with the oil. and over there,” he gestures to a series of tubes and a larger flask, “that’s where i separate the biodiesel from the glycerol. basically, the good stuff from the leftovers.”
you narrow your eyes at the apparatus. “this still sounds like you’re making moonshine.”
jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “i’m not making moonshine.”
“sure,” you mutter, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “that’s what someone making moonshine would say.”
he rolls his eyes, but the faint smile pulling at his lips betrays him.
“you’re really annoying today.”
“you like me, though,” you shoot back, leaning against the table with newfound confidence.
jungkook pauses, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long. his lips part, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—something softer, almost vulnerable.
“yeah,” he says quietly, almost under his breath, before turning back to his work. “i guess i do.”
as you lean over a neighboring table to inspect a beaker filled with an ominous-looking solution, your elbow bumps against it, sending it teetering dangerously close to the edge. the moment stretches out, everything moving in slow motion.
his words catch you off guard.
what did he just say?
holy—
“shit!” you yelp, reaching out instinctively to steady it. but before you can, the beaker tips over completely, the sulfuric acid inside spilling onto the floor—and dangerously close to your feet.
jungkook moves faster than you expect, his hand darting out to grab your arm as he yanks you backward with enough force to make you stumble into his chest. the acid splashes onto his hand as it hits the ground, and the sharp crack of shattering glass fills the room.
he flinches, a quiet hiss slipping through his teeth as he pulls his hand back.
“oh my god, jungkook!” you gasp, panic knotting your stomach. his hand lingers briefly on your arm before he steps away, already moving toward the nearest sink.
“stay there,” he orders, his voice clipped but steady, as he flips on the cold water and thrusts his hand under the stream.
your eyes are locked on his injured hand, where faint discoloration is already starting to show.
“are you okay? does it hurt?” you ask, your voice shaky.
“it’s fine,” he says tightly, jaw clenched as the water rushes over his skin. “are you okay? nothing got on you, right?”
you take a step closer, your gaze flicking between his face and his hand. he looks calm—too calm—but the way his lips press into a thin line tells you otherwise.
“no. nothing got on me… jungkook,” you say softly, guilt and worry twisting in your chest. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—”
“don’t,” he cuts you off, shaking his head as he grabs a paper towel to dry his hand. his voice isn’t harsh, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s holding something back. “this is why i don’t give tours.”
you wince, the weight of his words making you shrink slightly. “i—i’ll make it up to you,” you blurt, your voice desperate to fix this. “whatever you want.”
he glances at you then, finally letting out a soft, exasperated laugh. his expression softens, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smirk.
“you’re giving me that much power?”
“jungkook,” you warn, narrowing your eyes, but your voice wavers. you’re still too focused on his hand, your own tightening into fists at your sides. “this is serious. do you want to go to nurse or hospital or something—”
“relax baby,” he says, his tone lighter now as he flexes his fingers experimentally. “it’s not that bad. really. it was just sulfuric acid.”
“acid—”
“stop,” jungkook sighs. “seriously. it’s okay.”
“you shouldn’t have done that though,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
he shakes his head, smiling faintly—half amused, half surprised by your concern.
“what, and let you burn yourself instead?”
a beat.
"i'm dating a klutz," he chuckles, the words slipping out so naturally it takes you both a second to realize what he’s just said. his eyes widen slightly, but instead of backpedaling, "guess i should get used to you fucking my shit up, right?"
your chest tightens.
dating?
jungkook clears his throat.
“don't over think it," jungkook grumbles.
"jungkook—"
he doesn’t let you finish, his jaw tightening.
“___, what are you doing here if you don’t think we’re dating?”
“what does that even mean?” you fire back, crossing your arms defensively. “you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to overthink it.”
“then maybe don’t think so much,” he mutters under his breath. "you're good at that anyway."
“don’t think?!” you huff incredulously, stepping closer. “jungkook, you’re impossible.”
he glares at you, setting down the equipment with a loud clink. “and you’re confusing. ___, you’re acting like—”
“acting like what?”
“like you don’t want this.”
the tension doesn’t ease as you both leave the lab.
he grabs his bag, muttering something about not wanting to talk here, and before you can argue, he’s already halfway down the corridor. you jog to keep up with his long strides, half-annoyed, half-confused, as he leads you across campus.
the walk is silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint chatter of students in the distance. his jaw is tight, his shoulders stiff, and you can tell he’s barely holding himself together.
“jungkook...” you try, your voice softer this time, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even glance back.
by the time you reach his place, your confusion has morphed into frustration.
he unlocks the door without a word, stepping inside and leaving it open for you to follow.
you hesitate for a moment, then step in, the familiar scent of his space wrapping around you. before you can say anything, he drops his bag on the floor and turns to you, his expression unreadable.
“sit,” he orders, pointing to his bed.
your brows knit together.
“i’m not a dog,” you snap, but the weight in his tone makes you obey anyway. you sit at the edge of his bed, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.
he exhales sharply, running a hand through his already messy hair. his pacing starts then, a restless back-and-forth motion across the small room. the air feels heavy, thick with unspoken words and the lingering tension from earlier.
“okay,” he starts, his voice low and strained. “let’s just… get this out in the open.”
you raise a brow, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. instead, he keeps pacing, his hand dragging down his face as if he’s trying to physically pull the words out of himself.
“get what out in the open?” you prod, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “jungkook, what’s your deal? one second you’re fine, and the next—”
“fine?” he cuts you off, his tone sharper now. he stops pacing to face you, his hands planted on his hips. “you think i’m fine?”
you blink, taken aback.
“well, no, obviously not. but you’re also not making any sense—”
“you want to talk about making sense?” he scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping him. “you’re the one who’s impossible, you know that? one minute you’re here, acting like we’re—like this is something, and the next you’re…”
“the next i’m what?” you challenge, standing now. “go ahead, say it.”
jungkook looks at your sternly. then, he gives you his heart.
“i can’t keep doing this, ___. i need to know—are you in or are you out? because i get the whole wanting to make me miserable part. i get it. i’ve been awful to you. i’ve put words in your mouth and i’ve said shit that i can’t take back… but i’m trying. it feels like you aren’t.”
the weight of his words crashes over you, leaving you rooted in place. you want to respond, to say something, but the lump in your throat won’t budge.
he steps closer, his eyes searching yours.
“just… tell me what you want. because if you don’t want me, i need to know now.”
the silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. you feel his gaze burning into you, his desperation palpable.
“i don’t know how to have you,” you say, your voice breaking slightly.
his shoulders drop, and for the first time since this started, he looks less angry and more… hurt.
“what do you mean?” he asks, his tone gentler now.
“i don’t know,” you breathe. “i’ve never… gone this far. guys give up after the chase… you’re… you’re still here. what happens now? sex?”
he shrugs. "is that all you want?"
"no."
"then no."
silence.
“___, i'm here. i've come this far and i want to go further. sex or not—whatever,” he says, taking another step closer, his hand reaching out to lightly brush against your arm. “is that what scares you?”
you nod.
“am i… am i supposed to just—” your chest tightens, and the room feels too small, too charged. his words hang in the air, and you know there’s no going back after this. “i don’t know—”
“why are you here, ___?”
“you asked me that already.” you retort.
“yeah, and you didn’t answer,” he shoots back.
you sigh, exasperated. “i’m here because—i don’t know… you’re my friend, okay? or whatever.”
his laugh is sharp and humorless. “friend. right.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“it means i don’t want to be your friend,” he says plainly, his eyes burning into yours. “i haven’t wanted that for a while now.”
your breath catches. “jungkook—”
he steps closer, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you. but he stops just short, his voice low and rough.
“i want you to stop pretending like there’s nothing here. i want you to stop running every time i get close.”
you open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat.
“again, if you don’t want this—me—then tell me,” he continues, his voice softening. “but don’t keep showing up, acting like i don’t drive you as crazy as you drive me. don’t… please, don’t make me feel stupid.”
the room feels too small, the air too thick.
jungkook’s hand lingers on your arm, his touch grounding even as your heart races wildly. his dark eyes search yours, flickering with emotions you can’t fully decipher—hurt, hope, frustration.
“you don’t have to know everything right now,” he says softly, his voice carrying a steadiness that contrasts with the storm raging between you. “i’m not asking for perfect, ___. i’m not even asking for easy. i just…” he exhales shakily, the vulnerability in his tone cutting through your defenses. “i just need to know you’re willing to try.”
your throat tightens, his words hitting you in a place you’ve tried so hard to ignore. the thought of trying—of letting yourself fall completely, with no safety net—terrifies you. but the thought of him walking away? it’s unbearable.
“i want you,” you whisper, the fear laced in your voice so raw it feels like you’ve just exposed every guarded corner of yourself. “i want you, jungkook.”
his fingers trail down your arm, stopping just above your wrist.
“say it again,” he says, his tone almost exasperated, but not unkind. “please?”
you bite your lip, the weight of his words pressing down on you. everything about this moment feels pivotal, like a single word could either shatter or rebuild everything between you.
“i want you, jungkook,” you admit, your voice trembling but resolute. “i… i want us.”
his expression softens, relief washing over his features like a tidal wave.
“good,” he murmurs, stepping closer, so close that his scent—clean, familiar, entirely jungkook—invades your senses. then, his hands come up, gently cradling your face as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.
“i… i want us too. i think it’s all i ever really wanted. to be yours…”
his thumbs stroke your cheeks, and before you can overthink it, he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. the tension in the room shifts, softening but no less charged.
“does this mean i get to take hello kitty home today?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.
“is that all you really care about?” he says, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips.
“i care about other things.”
“like what?”
“like you.”
and then he kisses you.
you and jungkook have been dating for 6 months when you suddenly say; "happy 6 months, baby! wanna have sex?"
jungkook practically jolts out of his bed and takes the plushie. he places it on his desk and turns hello kitty over to face the wall. (no, you haven't taken it home. for some reason, it suits being in jungkook's room more than yours).
you laugh as he turns back to you and says;
"good timing, ___. i'm ovulating."
jungkook can't breathe.
… and you? you never expected it to feel this way.
the thrill of it… the intensity—the intimacy.
as jungkook towers over you, he pulls his shirt over his head. the minute his chest is bare, your hands find your way to roam around his body. his abs, his biceps, and down his—
“wait,” jungkook pleads, eyes hungrily looking into yours. “wanna take this slow with you. wanna do it right for you.”
you nod slowly, understanding what he means.
the truth is; your virginity is your virginity.
there isn’t much to it aside from that the fact that it’s not taken. you were never wronged but you were also never pursued right… sure, it’s special… but it isn’t everything.
jungkook treats it like it is though.
you don’t mind.
for the past 6 months, he's been really careful with how he acts around you sexually. sure, a few pussy eating moments and heated make outs have been happening... but not the full thing. actually, you've never really seen jungkook's dick yet.
he refuses to let you give him a blowjob.
said something about how easy it is for him to cum at the thought of you—he isn't ready to embarrass himself in front of you just yet.
but today, at your 6 month mark, it's different.
jungkook can't hold it in anymore and you showed up extra pretty. you planned this, didn't you?
(yes.)
gently, he helps you undress.
he takes your shirt off for you and takes a deep breath when you arch your back for him to unclasp your bra. nervously, he does so. then, he tosses your bra aside and takes in the view.
the prettiest fucking tits he’s ever seen.
jungkook reaches, cupping and squeezing your boobs. you watch him as he does so, unsure of what to do.
he then lowers himself, placing kisses over your tits and down your stomach. positioning himself more comfortably, he finds himself in between your legs. lifting them up, he takes your pants off… then, his eyes flicker from you to your panties.
his fingers play with the hem of your panties. then, he scrunches them together, tugging them up so your folds are exposed.
“fuck,” jungkook groans. “so pretty…”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” he breathes, watching your pussy begin to swell. “think your kitty can be good for me? think you can be patient? that’s it… good kitty.”
you tilt your chin down to look at him.
he’s licking his lips, lowering himself down to your pussy.
“be a good kitty, okay?” he says, as he begins to massage your pussy with his hands. your panties are still on so the friction of the fabric make you a little annoyed.
aren’t you having sex soon?
shoudn’t this shit be off be now?
“jungkook—”
“i know, baby,” jungkook pouts at you. “i know it’s hard to wait… look at your pussy… so wet and your panties aren’t even off.”
“i get more wet than this?”
“if i play my cards right, yeah.”
you whimper. “please, jungkook… just.. take them off.”
“you want me to?”
“yes,” you huff. “want you to take my panties off.”
he nods slowly… as if he’s thinking about something—considering something.
then, he decides to give in.
jungkook tugs your panties down entirely, leaving your pussy out in the open. he throws his head back in admiration. it’s like he’s been hit by cupid or something.
without warning, he buries his face inside.
jungkook begins with a couple licks and spreading your folds a part. his tongue brushes against your clit—up, down, side to side—everywhere. god, you feel him everywhere. after a few licking and sucking moments, he pulls away and rubs his thumb against your clit. he spits on your pussy—letting his saliva drool down slowly.
you watch.
“you like that, baby? you like when i spit in your pussy?”
tongue-tied, you nod obediently.
he grins before giving in again.
jungkook eats you up, devouring every inch of your pussy. before you know it, he’s shoving a finger inside you as he sucks on your clit. you almost yelp at the sensation—a feeling completely new to you.
“ohhh… yeah… f-feels so good, jungkook…” you moan, throwing your head back.
honestly, the added finger burns.
but he’s gentle with it. he moves his finger inside you with lots of intentions. he gradually shoves it in deeper and deeper too.. it just… it feels good.
so good.
you throw your head back and grab a fist full of his hair.
“uh, uhhhh… mhmfffph—” you moan. “ohhh…. f-fuck…”
jungkook looks up and watches the way your lips twitch. how your body reacts to him eating you out… and it all just boosts his ego.
he’s so glad to be here.
jungkook then pulls away, taking his tongue out of the equation. he focuses on fingering you, making sure you’re enjoying the way it feels. you two catch each others gaze and continue to look into each others eyes.
as jungkook picks up the pace fingering you, you bite your lip and love the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration.
“f-fuck,” you utter. “i’m gonna—o-ohhh!”
you cum on his fingers.
jungkook pulls them out, taking your cum and spreading it around your folds. he massages it in like lube before taking his fingers to his mouth.
he tastes you.
then, before you can catch your breath, jungkook leans down and kisses you.
he kisses you deeply.
when he pulls away, you ask; “c-can we…”
jungkook chuckles.
“soon,” he assures you, tucking your hair behind your ear. he presses his lips against your cheek.
then, his lips find yours with a hesitance that feels almost reverent, like he’s afraid to ruin something sacred. and then, slowly, he deepens the kiss—tentative at first, but with a growing confidence that feels utterly jungkook.
it’s the kind of kiss that feels like discovery. like he’s studying every angle, every curve, every reaction, cataloging them in his mind like a scholar with his favorite subject. his hands hold you as if you’re delicate but unshakable all at once, his thumbs brushing tenderly against your jawline.
when he tilts his head, changing the angle, it’s with a deliberate slowness, as though he’s savoring the moment, pulling apart the layers of this kiss to commit it to memory. you can feel the way his lips curve faintly against yours, like he’s smiling, like he’s finding joy in every second of this new experiment.
and you realize—he’s not just kissing you.
he’s learning you.
nerd.
you gasp when he pulls you closer, your arms instinctively wrapping around his body. his lips part slightly, and the way he kisses you now feels like a question, like he’s asking for something without saying a word.
he’s meticulous, like he wants to explore every inch of you through this kiss, leaving no detail untouched. the way he holds you is tender but firm, grounding you while setting your pulse on fire.
when he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. his eyes flutter open, and they’re soft, full of something you can’t quite name but feel all the same.
“i want you forever,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with awe, as though he’s just unraveled the world’s most beautiful equation.
you giggle at him. “great. can we start now?”
“way to kill the mood—”
“please, for the love of god!” you squirm. “fuck me already.”
jungkook can’t help but laugh.
but he gives in.
jungkook shifts out of his pants, revealing his hard cock.
you stare at it.
it's pretty.
it's thick all around and his tip looks like it's angry. you like the way it looks though... looks delicious. his cock has you completely mesmerized. you almost want to crawl to it but he saves you the journey as he brings it close to you.
truth be told, jungkook's a little nervous.. he doesn't want to fuck this up.
“you know…” he begins, as he jerks himself off in front of you. “i want to be mean. like, really fucking mean. i want to make you beg. i want to make you choke on my fucking cock and have you scream my name but—fuck, ___… i look at you and i can’t…. i can’t even do all i want with our fucking foreplay because i fold so easily when it comes to you. you want me to fuck you? fine. i’ll fuck you.”
“be mean,” you whimper. “come on. don’t be a pussy. just because this is my first time—f-fuck! holy shit, jungkook—”
jungkook has slowly puts his cock inside you.
you gasp for air.
he caresses your face as you adjust to him being inside you. then, he drags his tongue around your neck. he sucks on it a bit, causing you to grip the sheets.
“o-oh my… j-jungkook…”
“you okay, baby?” he asks, slightly moving himself in deeper.
you take a deep breath and exhale from your mouth. “f-fuck…”
he’s so big.
you can feel every curve of his dick and vein. when his tip entered, it felt funny. like, uncomfortable but also really fucking good. as he begins to thrust in and out, you breathe through the sharpness of his movement.
“hurts…” you confess.
jungkook shifts, and kisses your neck. against your skin, he murmurs; “i’m sorry, baby… do you want me to—”
“no,” you tell him, as you open your legs wider. you wrap yourself around him and hold on tight. “think… think i’m okay. can you move more?”
jungkook nods and kisses you once more.
he begins to fuck you.
slowly but surely… he begins to drill himself into you.
missionary isn’t his favourite but having you this way… especially for your first time? god, did he love this. as you dig your nails into his back, you whimper every time he thrusts back inside you.
“f-fuck,” you moan. “jungkook… it’s…”
“what?” he almost panics. “a-are you okay?”
“yeah,” you breathe. “it feels good now… can you… go harder?”
jungkook hisses, feeling like he could lose his mind.
“can we switch position?” he pitches.
you agree.
jungkook then pulls out of you, and you suddenly feel the emptiness. he goes on his knees and takes you by your waist, guiding you to turn over and go on all fours.
doggy.
jungkook helps you position yourself before angling himself. he licks his hand and spreads your entrance. he then guides his dick inside you. as he begins to thrust, you suddenly feel him reach around and start to rub your clit…
and oh my god.
does it feel heavenly.
“oh,” you hum. “feels so good.”
jungkook leans over, and kisses your shoulder. as he pulls away, he takes his other hand and grabs a fistfull of your hair. he pulls your hair back and you moan at the tightness.
“you like that, my little bitch?” he grunts as he fucks you.
he feels your pussy clench. then, he smriks.
“oh? you like being called a little bitch, huh?” jungkook then takes his hand off your clit and uses it to slap your ass. "my fucking cockslut. always so fucking horny but you're just a little dirty minded virgin, right? not anymore, okay? i'm taking it. taking all your sticky fucking cum. you're all mine, baby. you know that, right? you're mine, bitch."
smack.
your pussy tightens around his cock again.
smack.
you moan his name.
“jungkook…”
he inshales shaprly and moves both hands and grabs your waist. he pulls you into him with each trust, adding more intensity.
jungkook fucks you harder and harder and you can’t help but love the way it feels. you moan his name, whimpering pleads like; “please… please, fuck me harder.” you can’t help it… it’s the way that his hard cock feels inside you that make you say shit like that. it’s the way that his hands roam around your body and you feel him everywhere… because he is everywhere.
his mind goes dizzy.
he goes blank actually.
then, when you reach back and wrap your arms around the back of your thighs—jungkook feels like he might lose it.
how do you know how to move like that?
god, you’re so hot.
“mhmm. that’s it…. fucking me so good, nerd.”
then, jungkook loses it.
like… really.
he fucks you harder and harder until you’re whimpering his name and almost near tears. he doesn’t realize how hard he’s fucking you until you’re near climax—
“i’m cumming!” you cry. “baby, i’m gonna—ahh, a-ahhh! fuck..”
it happens so fast.
suddenly, you cum and you lose your balance.
jungkook helps you lay down properly. he gets on top, continuing to fuck you in missionary. he fucks you through your orgasm. as you catch your breath, you feel him hiss against your skin.
“fuck.”
just then, jungkook pulls out.
as he jerks himself off, you tug on his hand and pout at him. he tilts his head, a little confused but quickly catches on.
“cum right on me?”
(i mean, camaraderie)
a few seconds later, jungkook straddles your face.
he places his dick inside you mouth and you focus on licking the tip of his dick. you do it softly, not adding much pressure. it sends shivers down his spine… then, you use the topside of oyur tongue to add more stimulation. you dig your face deep, licking his balls a little.
he moans.
you suck him off—slow but so fucking intense.
jungkook can’t take it.
he places one hand on the back of your head and helps control how deep you take him.
his dick reaches the back of your throat and it’s fucking toe-curling for jungkook. you take him in so good. as you suck him off, he can’t help but not last long.
jungkook pulls out seconds later and cums all over your face.
as his cum drips down your face, you catch it with your finger and look at it.
“ohh,” you pant. “that’s what cum looks like…”
jungkook rolls his eyes at you before dipping his head low and kissing you. you two laugh as you pull away, completely in disbelief of everything that had just happened.
1 month later...
“you’re such a bad boyfriend,” you say, crossing your arms dramatically as you sit on the couch, watching jungkook fiddle with the back of your laptop.
he pauses, turning his head slowly to look at you over his shoulder. his glasses are sliding down his nose, his hair is a bit messy from pushing it back so many times, and he looks entirely unimpressed.
“bad boyfriend?” he repeats, sounding genuinely offended. “you asked me to fix your laptop. i'm a chem major, not tech.”
“smart boyfriends are supposed to be well rounded."
he glares at you. "again. you asked me to fix your laptop. i'm doing my best, baby."
"yeah, but like... i asked you over an hour ago,” you tease, leaning back and pretending to sigh. “you’ve been ignoring me ever since.”
“ignoring you?” he scoffs, turning back to the tangled mess of wires. “i’m literally upgrading your RAM so you can stop complaining about how slow it is. if anything, i’m the best boyfriend.”
you hum thoughtfully, pretending to consider it. “debatable. the best boyfriend wouldn’t make me sit here in silence while he nerds out over motherboards or whatever.”
“okay, first of all,” he says, setting the screwdriver down and turning to you fully now, “it’s not ‘whatever.’ this is your motherboard’s lifeline. without it, you don’t get to binge your little dramas.”
“so you’re saying you’re not doing this for me—you’re doing it for the laptop?”
“i’m doing it so you don’t keep stealing my ipad to ‘watch just one more episode’ and kill my battery in two hours,” he fires back, but there’s a little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips now.
you tilt your head, grinning. “i think you just proved my point.”
“fine,” he says, pulling his glasses off and tossing them onto the table. “what do i have to do to reclaim my best boyfriend title, huh? flowers? chocolates? fixing this annoying laptop isn’t enough?”
“hmm,” you pretend to think. “i’d say… maybe you stop being a nerd for five minutes and come cuddle me instead.”
he rolls his eyes but moves toward you anyway, tugging you into his lap without hesitation.
“there,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggle into his chest. “am i forgiven, or do i need to sit in front of a claw machine and lose $200 again?”
“hmm,” you hum, grinning as you tap your chin. “hello kitty does look a little lonely. but maybe she deserves a friend when you really screw up.”
“you’re planning for that?” he asks, incredulous.
“not planning,” you tease, shrugging. “just preparing. i’ve already picked cinnamon roll for when you really drop the ball.”
he stares at you for a long moment, narrowing his eyes. “you know, this feels like extortion. i bet you mess with me on purpose just to stock up on plushies.”
“maybe,” you say sweetly, poking his cheek. “but you can’t prove it.”
he sighs, leaning his head back against the couch dramatically.
“great. i’m dating a scam artist.”
“you’re dating a genius,” you correct, grinning.
“genius or not,” he counters, tightening his hold on you, “you’re stuck with me.”
you tilt your head up to look at him, biting back a laugh at the slight pout on his lips.
“wow, jungkook, that’s so nerdy of you.”
he groans, letting his head fall against your shoulder.
“i’m never fixing your laptop again. let me know when you need help naming all the isomers of butanol—"
"baby, did you hear that?"
"hear what?"
"you put the dolphins to sleep. good job! yay, your marine conservation bullshit finally came in handy—"
"wanna break up?"
"meanie."
"you're mean."
"sure, let's break up," you tell him. "how about never?"
"never?" jungkook asks, tucking your hair behind your ears. "sounds good."
you glance at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.
"it's you, me, and the fucking dolphins forever, nerd."
Pairing: Namjoon x reader x Jungkook
Words: 4.7K
Genre: Threesome, Dom!Joon, Sub!JK, Sub!Reader
Warnings: daddy kink (sort of), noona kink rough sex, blowjob, face-fucking, mild humiliation, restraint, spanking, edging, polyamory?, the teeniest hint of slash for the sake establishing dominance.
Summary
Boyfriend!Jungkook wants to watch Namjoon fuck you but can’t keep his hands to himself for too long. Dom!Joon puts him in his place but eventually gives in.
OR - Namjoon teaches Jungkook the importance of patience and the appeal of edging?
OR - Namjoon doms the shit out of you and you occasionally stop to admire how beautiful JK is.
Hi Jewel. Congrats on the milestone! Can I request for a drabble for Seokjin with a brother’s best friend trope? Thank you
thank you so much! i am not well-versed in this trope, but i am the no. 1 trope inversion stan so i hope i did it justice and that you enjoy it nonetheless!
i'm still slowly working my way through my milestone drabbles btw! i didn't forget about them. :')
got me all messed up
pairing: seokjin x f. reader
genre: brother's best friend, fwb au; smut
warnings: i have tagged this as smut but it's not super explicit/detailed. still: swearing, oral sex (m. receiving), reader is kind of a brat, seokjin is both flustered as hell and bossy, a little dirty talk, unedited.
rating: explicit. minors do not interact.
wordcount: 1.1k
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
You roll your eyes, shimmying your shorts down and off. “You say that every time, Seokjin.”
He sputters, torn between the nonchalance in your response and the sight of you nearly bare, down to just your underwear and a flimsy tank top. “Yah, that’s because it’s true every time.”
Of all your brother’s friends, Seokjin is probably the worst one you could’ve picked for something like this for a multitude of reasons. First, he’s got a horrible laugh. It’s not the sexy kind of half-chuckle that some guys have—it’s honking and loud and mortifying when you’re in tight quarters. Second, he’s got something of a conscience. Something in the sense that he’s still going to meet up with you for sex, but he makes a whole thing out of it.
You’re his best friend’s sister. He’s taking advantage of you. Blah, blah, blah.
“It’s getting a little annoying, is what I’m saying.”
Seokjin’s got protests and excuses for days, but he always seems to shut up whenever you drop to your knees in front of him. And, to his credit, there is a lot of him, which almost cancels out all the talking he does about your brother, who is not a person you want to be thinking or talking about when you’ve got a very nice, very capable cock halfway down your throat.
“So-sorry—oh my god.”
Whatever you want to call it, the thing between you and Seokjin has been going on long enough that you know what he likes, know how he wants it. Know when he starts doing those breathy, staccato whines, rolling his hips, that you’re treading along a very dangerous path.
The temperature in your apartment can barely be considered habitable, and you know he’s not long for this world between the sight of your hardened nipples poking at the fabric of your top and the attention you’re lavishing on the head of his cock. So you pull back, jerk him slow, make a show of rolling your eyes again. “You know all that who does this pussy belong to shit is just dirty talk, right? My brother doesn’t own me.”
Another reason why Seokjin wasn’t really built for this: he’s so easy to embarrass. Flushes red, red, red at the mere mention of sex despite having had a lot of it. “I don’t—”
“I’m an entire adult, Seokjin.”
A high-pitched keen erupts from him when you sink back down his length and he nudges at the back of your throat. “I know.”
“I can fuck my brother’s friend if I want to.”
“I know.”
“My brother’s friend can fuck me, if he wants to.”
“Can you do that thing again—”
“Only if you shut up about my brother.” A pained noise. Something between a whine and an frustrated groan, because he doesn’t agree but tries to guide your mouth back to him anyway. “Seokjin.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “it’s just…”
Entirely fed up, you pull away entirely. Seokjin looks stricken, a child whose favorite toy has been taken from him, and you ignore it long enough to find his jeans and retrieve his phone from the back pocket. “What are you—” he starts to ask, expression morphing into full-blown panic, and the line rings once, twice, before—
“Hey, hyung,” comes your brother’s voice.
Above you, Seokjin is flailing. Tries to grab the phone. Assumes some kind of prayer position. Whisper-yells please, please, please while you just stare. Looks like he wants to sink through the floor and die when you don’t budge. Moves on to bargaining: he’ll tell your brother himself, please just give him time. Two weeks at the most. No? How about a week? Come on, please, don’t do this. Three days? Fine—just hang up and he’ll call him back himself, tell him right now.
“Hyung? Hello?”
It’s honestly impressive how long you’re able to stonewall him, because Seokjin eventually sighs, sags against the wall in defeat. “Fine,” he acquiesces. Runs a hand through his hair and waves you off. “Go ahead, ruin my life.”
“Did you butt-dial me again?”
“No, it’s me.”
“Huh? Why do you have Seokjin-hyung’s phone?”
“Because we’re hooking up.”
There’s a scream from the other end of the line. Seokjin tries to disappear further into the wall. “What? Like, right now?”
You can spare him the embarrassment of this, at least. “No, in general. Just thought you should know.”
“I did not need to know that, thanks. Please never call me again.”
“Fine by me.”
You end the call, tossing Seokjin’s phone back towards his pants. And it’s not his expression that shocks you, stuck somewhere between relief and pure terror. It’s the fact that Seokjin, the mildly-reformed king of all things vanilla himself, is still rock hard.
“Are you still—”
“Don’t,” is all he says, flush nearly creeping to the middle of his chest. “You’re turning me into a freak.”
“Didn’t know being honest was some weird kink, but all right.”
“It wasn’t being honest,” he argues, “it was you being all authoritative and hot.”
You snort. Say, “I would barely consider that being authoritative, but we can definitely explore this now that I’ve cleared your conscience and you’re able to fuck me guilt-free,” even though it’s not a surprise that Seokjin is into that sort of thing—being ignored, almost purposely disobeyed. Knowing exactly what he wants and giving him the opposite.
You expect an agreement. Maybe a repeat of that time you’d gotten him so riled up he’d dragged you into the bathroom and fucked you against the sink, not a care in the world that your brother was fifty feet away. You expect blush-dusted cheeks and that aw shucks expression he loves to wear as he scratches at the back of his neck and agrees that yeah, he can fuck you guilt-free now.
But there’s none of that.
There’s still Seokjin slumped against the wall, breath heaving as he fists mindlessly at his cock. There’s you, still on your knees in front of him, spit lingering in the corners of your mouth, pooling on your tongue. For the first time, it’s awkward, and you wonder if you’ve overstepped. Made a mess of something Seokjin wanted to keep neat and tidy.
An apology is halfway out of your mouth when the atmosphere shifts. You feel it, and you know Seokjin knows you feel it because he quirks an eyebrow, barely taunting. Stands at full height, looks down at you like an inconvenience, like you’re another one of his unruly dongsaengs that he needs to wrangle into compliance.
You test it. A cheeky, “Can I help you?” that makes his jaw clench.
“You can.”
“Yeah? You got any suggestions, or have you not thought that far ahead?”
“Get on the bed,” he instructs, glaring, like he’s never had a sense of humor a day in his life.
You’re not the type to be easily wrangled, but this version of Seokjin is really working for you. Shy, bumbling Seokjin is nowhere to be found, and if this is what it means to turn him into a freak, you’ll gladly reap the benefits.
Kinks: sex in his studio, romantic vanilla sex, consensual drunk sex, some dirty talk, lots of giggles and kisses, a quick breast worship cause it’s Yoongi, safe vaginal penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, use of a vibrator, talks about male masturbation, he talks about using her moans in songs, Amazon position, they’re just drunk and horny and in love <3, he is The Man, like i need him so bad emotionally
Wordcount: 5.9k
a/n: if you voice me a wish of vanilla studio sex with some spice sprinkled on top, i take out my pen and deliver because i’m in a fact a whore for studio sex <3 fuckk i need to eat this Yoongi with a spoon no joke 🖤 i also miss him a lot :(
He makes you laugh. He is funny, you really think that he is. His laugh is also addictive. Deep, unless you match his humour just right and it turns into a squeak. You love laughing with him. You have been doing so for quite some hours today, sharing food and beer in his studio. You can feel the effects of the alcohol by now. It’s warm and fuzzy and dulls your boundaries a little. You don’t feel the need to force your senses to stay sharp. Not in his presence. He is safe and kind and sweet. Home, that’s what he has become.
And right now, he is also incredibly cute in your eyes. He is wearing a yellow sweater and brown pants and he clearly did his hair. It’s because he knew that you would be coming over for dinner. He smells like masculine cologne and he wears rings on his fingers. He put effort into himself because you deserve nothing less. He is very attractive and beyond tempting, but most of all, he is cute.
You stop laughing, completely engrossed in his face and how it moves when he smiles.
Yoongi notices your change of attitude instantly, fumbling with his earlobe.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes suddenly struggling to upkeep contact.
“It’s just that”, you scoot closer, brushing the back of your hand down his cheek.
Yoongi’s breath hitches, his heart speeds up in his chest.
“Your cheeks become red when you’re drunk. It’s such a pretty shade.”
“Uhm”, Yoongi looks to the side. He stumbles for words and ends up laughing breathily instead. He clears his throat, scooting to the edge of the sofa to reach for his glass of beer.
You smile, resting back against the sofa with your head on the edge of the backrest and your eyes glued to him. You giggle.
He glances at you and looks away, taking a big sip of beer. When you don’t stop looking at him, he finally speaks up.
“Don’t look at me for so long. I don’t know how to handle it”, he is pouting and using a cute voice for it.
“I can’t help it. I think that you’re so cute.”
He flusters, rubbing the side of his neck.
“Okay”, he mumbles, eating a piece of fried chicken to distract himself from his nerves. The chicken is cold by now and he isn’t really hungry so it seems to never end in his mouth. He gulps it down when he suddenly feels your hands on his arms, feeling him up, touching him. Your kiss is placed on the round part of his shoulder.
“Your shyness is very attractive. It makes me wanna ravish you.”
“___, oh my god”, he gasps, meeting your eyes because your statement shocked him.
You simply flutter your lashes and smile playfully.
“Why are you saying this?”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Yeah well, even if…oh my god.”
You laugh, closing the distance by putting your legs over his lap sideways and hugging his chest.
You kiss his cheek, “I can’t get enough of you, Min Yoongi.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Mhm, as are you.”
He clears his throat awkwardly, rubbing his own ear again. You decide to match him by nibbling on his other ear.
“Woah”, he gets out, tilting his head back as a surprise shiver shakes his body. He moves away instantly, widened eyes meeting yours.
“Did you like that?” you ask him, playing with his earlobe. It feels so soft and squishy between your fingers.
“___, I don’t know what you’re trying to do but we have to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t wanna take advantage of you. You drank and your boundaries are down and I…I’m not that kind of man. I like you, a lot, and I care about you. I mean, not that I would take advantage of you if I didn’t feel for you like this, but I just. I guess, I just, what I wanna say is that I’m not one of those guys that get excited when a woman is visibly drunk.”
“I know. I never thought that you were. You’re kind, sweet, respectful and a total gentleman. I trust you, Min Yoongi. I feel safe with you.”
“Please just call me Yoongi.”
“Well, I trust you Yoongi. And I like you a lot too.”
"You do?”
You change the way you sit so you can talk. You and he haven’t seen each other for long. This is all new and exciting. You had your first kiss already, your first cuddle and shared some intimate moments with each other. But all of this is still new. The big L word hasn’t fallen yet although both of you burn to say it. You also haven’t really gone official to the people who matter. Your friends and family and Yoongi’s in return. You don’t want to give other people a chance to ruin this. Your last relationships have been a while for either of you and you both agree that the last one didn’t feel like this. It didn’t feel so electric and right and almost cosmical. As if some higher power brought you and him together. When you are together, nothing really matters and everything seems so much brighter. Yoongi only has a good morning when he can wish you a nice day at work and in return gets to read your funny morning texts. You swear you start to taste his kisses with every sip of coffee because so often he tastes like coffee when he kisses you. Sometimes Yoongi stops and stares when something reminds him of you and he always has to take a picture and send it to you. Sometimes you stumble upon a stray cat and see Yoongi in it and you always have to send him a picture as well. You and he became parts of each other’s days and build little houses in each other’s hearts. And it feels good and right to both of you.
“Of course I like you”, you say, taking his hand to kiss his knuckles, “I think you’re the most exciting yet mundane thing that has ever happened to me.”
He chuckles, squeezing your hand.
“I’m serious. You make my heart race and at the same time, you calm me down like no one else has ever done.”
“That’s…” He lowers his head. “Actually such a sweet thing to say. Thank you.”
You flip his hand and push his sweater sleeve up to reveal his wrist. The scent of his cologne lingers on it. You inhale deeply and kiss his wrist.
Yoongi gasps, heart almost jumping out of his throat.
“I mean it. You’re like my everything currently. You’re every single thought taking up my mind”, you say and guide your kisses further up his arm. The skin of his inner arm is so soft and smells like him. Kissing it makes you droopy.
Yoongi doesn’t know what to say, but his head is turning. His breath speeds up, his skin tingles. He is really sensitive on his inner arm and your kisses feel electric on his skin.
You manage to kiss him as far as his elbow and then the jumper punches up too much to go up any further. You nuzzle your nose into the slope of his elbow, sucking on his skin gently.
Yoongi sighs.
The sound makes you lift your head. You pull his sweater down mindlessly, holding the hem of his sleeve as your eyes race between his’.
His pupils are slightly widened, his cheeks are even more flushed. He is gazing, looking utterly bewitched and droopy.
“I feel the same”, his voice doesn’t want to go above a breathy whisper. With a warm timbre such as his’, it is very attractive. “It’s all new to me. These feelings. I’ve never felt like this before. You are in my mind all day and night and it’s so good. I can’t get enough of it and of you.”
“You can’t?”
His eyes flit to your lips. He shakes his head, mouthing an honest “I can’t.”
You close the distance. His lids lower, his nose brushes yours.
“Are you really sure?” he whispers.
“I’m really sure. Are you sure too? I’m not that type of woman either who gets off on taking advantage of a drunk guy. If I came across as such, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
“You didn’t. I know that you’re safe. I feel, uhm, I guess I feel safe in wanting to be myself with you when it comes to, you know, sex.”
You snicker, rubbing your nose against his’ in a sign of affection. He closes his eyes, enjoying it with a sweet sigh.
“You’re so cute. You always get shy the moment we talk about sex. You rap about making people cum with your tongue, but you’re different behind closed doors.”
“It’s ‘cause I like you, I get nervous.”
“Why? It’s just me.”
“Exactly. I don’t wanna disappoint.”
“You’re not. Sometimes when I’m trying to sleep, I keep thinking about what we did and I get excited about the next time.”
He sighs your name softly, eyes gazing at your lips so longingly the distance even hurts you unbearably. You heal yourselves by breaking the distance and kissing his lips.
Yoongi moans your name, cupping your cheeks and kissing you back eagerly. Your initial plan was to break it after a short second to build tension, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now that it is actually happening. You love kissing him. You could do it all day.
There was a day where you almost did. He came over after work and then spent the night. You and he weren’t ready for sex back then, but you both felt comfortable in making out. You barely left the bed the next morning, spending hours kissing each other. It was so amazing.
He has the perfect lips for it as well. Soft and always moisturized. The shapes of them are beautiful. They fit his face as if they were made just for him, they are pouty and delicate and yet plump as well. When he applies lip balm, his lower lip always moves with the balm before it bounces back into place. When he talks, he tends to pout with his upper lip. When he sleeps, he keeps them slightly parted and when he smiles, they curl back to make space for his teeth and gums. You could fill books with poems about them. Never in your life have you been more smitten with a pair of lips than his’.
To kiss them and have them kiss you back, is true heaven. Tonight it is tainted by the encouraging power of alcohol. It isn’t long until Yoongi darts his tongue out to trace your lips. You instantly part them, meeting his tongue with your own.
He gasps, breaking the kiss surprisingly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you really sure?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yes, I am. I fucking am”, he breathes, pulling you back into the kiss.
You moan softly, pushing him back onto the leather couch. Yoongi falls with a purr, feeling electric tingles in his crotch when you claim the space between his legs and scratch your nails over his scalp softly. Yoongi nudges your leg with his own just obviously enough that you break the kiss.
“Too much?”
“No, just…I’m here if you need something too”, he whispers, gazing up at you devotedly.
“You say such sexy stuff, damn”, you get out and kiss him. You take up his offer, changing positions so you could grind on his thigh. You make sure to keep one knee against his own crotch, hoping that he likes it.
He does. He likes it. All of it. He likes your weight on him and how warm you feel between your legs. He likes how your knee grinds against his crotch because it feels fucking electric to him. He likes kissing you, holding you and touching you and being touched in return. Oh, he really likes you.
Yoongi purrs, running his big hands up and down your back. He lingers on the parts which are softest, kneading and squeezing them as if he wanted to memorise how it feels to hold you. It makes you burn up like crazy. It also makes you breathless, forcing you to break the kiss you don’t want to break. Yoongi chases you with parted lips and a sigh of your name.
“Sorry, air, hah”, you breathe, giggling shyly.
Yoongi chuckles, lips curling into a lopsided smile, “yeah ”, he lulls, voice rumbling in his chest.
You snicker and bury your nose in his cheek, “I’m dizzy. Closing my eyes really made it obvious that I’m drunk.”
“Same. Did you change your mind?”
“No. You?”
“No.”
“Mhm”, you hum and feel the consuming need to kiss his neck. The scent of his cologne drives you crazy, you need to eat it off of him until your tongue knows how he tastes.
Yoongi gasps, tensing up for a second before an aggressive shudder turns his entire body limp. He moans throatily, rolling his head to the side.
You claim the newfound space instantly, kissing his skin as much as you lick it. The alcohol lowers your shame and makes you bold. You kissed his neck before, but not like this. You are sloppy and messy. Yoongi swears he might pass out from light headedness. It feels unbelievable, turning him on like nothing else.
The only way he can handle it is by grabbing your buttocks and giving them a squeeze. You whimper softly, lips stuttering on his neck and hips trying to chase his touch. Yoongi slides his hand between your legs to test the waters.
“Yoongi”, you sigh, making him shiver with a moan against his ear and your tongue tracing the shape of it. Your hips grind down on his hand, giving him all the knowledge he needed. He moves on his own, rubbing your sweet warmth over the fabric of your pants.
You shudder, fingers twisting his hair gently. It doesn’t hurt, it simply makes his scalp tingle like crazy. The quiet moans you let out, he answers in a throaty purr. The giggle you produce in reaction to it, he answers with a chuckle.
You lift your head, meeting his droopy eyes just as droopily. His hair is messy at the top because you played with it. His neck is glistening where you licked and kissed it. Your heart flutters, your stomach does too. You make a sound and grab his hair to tilt his head back and therefore reveal his throat to you. He allows you, purring deeply when you swirl your tongue up his sensitive throat. His voice tickles so nicely that you have to do it again and again and again and again until it naturally evolves into you kissing your way to the side of his neck along his jawline. Yoongi rolls his head to the side gladly, lungs working overtime to breathe and head turning incurably. The shivers reach their peak when you take his earlobe between your teeth to tug on it softly. Yoongi writhes under you, arching his back to bear what you make him feel. You never had him arch his back before so this is ruining you. You lift your lips, having to look at his face. It is flushed beyond repair, contrasting deliciously against his love marked neck.
“Did that feel good to you?” you ask him, breathing heavily as you wait for his answer. His hand doesn’t move right now, resting on your pussy. It feels so warm.
“Everything does”, he breathes out.
“You arched your back.”
Shyness washes over his features, he looks to the side. You make him look at you with two fingers under his chin. His lips part in awe, his eyes cloud over in devotion.
“I want to go further. Do you want it too?” you ask him.
“I do.”
You sit up and hook your finger under your shirt. Yoongi sits up as well, doing the same with his jumper. You throw your pieces of clothing to the floor at the same time, looking at each other.
“Weren’t you hot?” you snicker, tugging on the fabric of the white t-shirt he wore under the jumper.
“I actually wasn’t. I was cozy”, he throws back sassily because he knows that you share his sense of humour and see it as him being playful.
You snicker, scrunching your nose.
Yoongi smiles at you and hooks his fingers in his shirt to take it off as well. When he reappears again, he is greeted with your naked breasts and your eyes looking at him expectantly.
“Wow okay”, he lets out, staring in awe. He stays completely still, making you laugh.
“Did you turn into a statue?”
“Huh? I uh, no”, he shakes off his paralysation. “Sorry, you’re just so beautiful. I can’t believe that you’re real.”
“You’re beautiful too. Can I?”
“Yes. Can I?”
“Yes please”, you allow him, placing your hands on his chest to feel him up.
Yoongi purrs deeply, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. Sadly your hands have to slip to his shoulders for now, but you don’t mind because he makes you fucking arch your back and roll your head back with the way he worships your chest. His left hand is between your shoulder blades, while his right hand is between your legs, rubbing your warmth. The fabric is soaked by now. It turns him on so much. He moans and purrs, kissing and licking your breasts as if they were everything he needed to survive. Yoongi kissed your chest before, but not like this. Not with so much tongue and so sloppily. The alcohol makes him brave and bold, resulting in you almost wanting to cry from how good it feels.
“You’re so beautiful”, he sighs, giving your nipples a break when they are swollen and sensitive. He marks your collarbones with his love instead, tastes your shoulders and repays the favour to your neck.
You collapse into him, knocking his nose into your neck and a laugh out of him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, hugging you when you hug him first.
“I don’t know. Just haven’t felt so good with anyone before.”
His heart speeds up.
“I feel the same.”
“You do?”
“Yeah”, he says and giggles cutely.
It breaks you instantly and you match his drunk giggles. You and he hug and giggle, riding on the drunken waves of dizzy heads and giddy hearts.
He mewls and lifts his head by nuzzling into you first. It’s like a cat that asks for affection.
“I’ll sound like a jerk, but can we go further?”
“You don’t sound like a jerk when I want the same.”
“Really?”
You nod your head. He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes widening in emotion. You smile and cradle his cheeks, pulling him into a giddy kiss. Just one more before you and he get naked. He accepts it happily, sighing and purring as his lips dance with yours. Like always when you break the kiss, he chases you. He is lovely like this.
“It’s torture when you break the kiss”, he chuckles.
“I know”, you snicker, “it’s for a greater good.”
“Mhm fuck, I hope.”
You climb off his lap, almost face planting the floor if he didn’t hold your hips instantly.
“Are you okay?”
You laugh, nodding your head.
“Just dizzy as fuck.”
“Sit down please, I don’t want you to fall.”
“I’m okay. Look”, you get on one foot to take off your pants. You lose balance and end up jumping around the small space between the couch and the coffee table as you try to take off your pants.
Yoongi stumbles to his feet, calling your name and drunkenly wrapping his arms around you from behind.
“Don’t hurt yourself, please”, he pleads, kissing your shoulder and neck.
“I’m alright”, you sigh, taking off your pants with his support while your body feels electric. Yoongi has stronger arms than one might think at first. To have them around you as he drunkenly ravishes your neck is making you dizzy.
“You can let go of me now, I’m naked.”
“Can I feel?”
You gulp, nodding your head. Yoongi was never that bold before. You might ascend to a higher plain if he keeps being like this.
Yoongi dances the flat of his palm down the middle of your torso. He stops. He takes your earlobe between his teeth. He tugs and moves his hand quickly, connecting it with your dripping heat.
“Ah!” you moan loudly, arching your back. You throw your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself.
“It’s okay. My studio is soundproof. No one can hear us”, he whispers, voice tickling your ear as his long fingers part your folds in a slow and sensual massage.
You drop your hand, using it to grab the back of his neck instead. He melts closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He plays with your dripping entrance, increasing the speed of your pulse.
“And you don’t have to hold back for my sake. Just let it all out, please”, he says, making you moan by burying two fingers in your aching walls. He presses the heel of his palm to your clit, applying warm pressure as he curls his fingers inside you. They are so long that he easily reaches your best spots.
“A-ah, ahm, ah…”
“Don’t hold back, please. You sound so sweet”, he purrs, curling his fingers just right. You are throbbing around him, feeling so warm and soft. He goes crazy at the sensations, aching to replace his fingers with his cock.
You mewl softly, hips trembling on his hand and fingers leaving red marks on his neck. Yoongi fingered you before and quite frankly, you still haven’t properly recovered from that first time. His hands are too sexy. Masculine, strong, big and veiny. Yet at the same time, they are so tender and careful and touch you with such gentleness. They are also very flexible and have way too much stamina to offer. Quite frankly, your legs never shook as hard as they did when he first fingered you.
“Ah, wow, oh wow, ah…”
“I love your sounds”, he drags his words, which is way too sexy, “makes me wanna record them and put them in a song.”
“Wait this is”, you croak, knees buckling.
“Too far?” He pulls out. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s just a lot to handle on my drunk legs. You’re so sexy right now.”
He chuckles. You snicker, turning in his arms. You put your hands on his chest. He touches your lower back, gazing into your eyes. There is a constant warm throbbing between your legs. And an ache only he could fill.
“You never talked like this before.”
“Blame the alcohol.”
You and he share drunk giggles and soft touches.
“Can I undress you?”
“Yes please.”
You snicker, making him snicker too. You and he sway drunkenly as you begin fumbling with his pants, not once breaking eye contact. You are trapped in a dance between little distance and more distance between your lips, but never take the last step to kiss. It’s addicting to share space and air and moans but to never give in to temptation.
Soon his pants are open and you push them down over his round butt. He steps out of them, almost face planting the floor if you weren’t holding his arms so tightly.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?”
“It is. Fuck, I’m so drunk”, he laughs and hugs your waist, swaying with you to the melody of your beating hearts.
“Me too”, you chuckle, playing with his hair.
He smiles, kisses your forehead before he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. You sigh, eyes closing from the loving affection.
“You’re really sure about this?” he asks.
“I’ve never been so sure about anything. You?”
“I’m so sure. Just don’t expect a genius performance in my state. I think my hips are gonna have a mind of their own and forget how thrusting works in the middle of it.”
You snicker, letting him taste your next words by brushing your lips against his’.
“Then let me do the moving.”
“Are you serious?” he almost whimpers the words, knees buckling.
“Mhm very.”
Yoongi moans your name, trying to kiss you at the same time. You snicker, twisting his hair, lips parted and eyes half lidded. This is keeping you alive like nothing else.
“Is that okay for me to do?”
“More than okay.”
“Then sit down”, you say and push at his chest gently.
Yoongi falls clumsily, grunting in surprise. His eyes are comically big.
“Oh! Sorry, are you okay?” You gasp. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just got weak in the knees”, he assures you and laughs with you.
“God, you’re so cute.” You climb his lap, playing with his hair and stubbing his face with your nose.
“You know that I need to get a condom first?” he smiles as he talks.
“Then get it.”
“I can’t do that when you’re on top of me.”
“Right”, you say and giggle, “shit, you’re right.”
You climb off his lap again, gazing at him as he waddles to his desk. He is still wearing his briefs. His butt looks so good in them. He bends down to open the second drawer of his desk. He grabs more than a condom.
“What else did you get?”
He turns, showing off the black vibrator and lube proudly.
“Why do you have a vibrator in your studio?” you gasp.
“For when I get needy.”
“You use this stuff on yourself!?”
“Yes? Why not?” he asks, cocking his brow up in question.
“It’s just really hot. Damn. So you’re telling me that you jerked off here before?”
“Way too many times”, he confesses and chuckles.
“Hot. Wow hot. Damn.”
He grins shyly.
“Do you want me to use it on you?” you ask him.
“If you want to, but it’s for you. If you need a little more to get there. Don’t worry, I sterilize my toys after each use.”
“You’re so hot, holy fuck.”
Yoongi steps out of his briefs and opens the condom, rolling it on his cock. You gulp, salivating like crazy. You never wanted him more than you do right now.
“You’re so hot, oh my god. What the hell”, you murmur under your breath, making him chuckle. Your constant praise makes him confident so he gives his cock a few jerks just for show, purring deeply.
“Yoongi, oh my god, you’re so hot.”
“You’re hot too. Like a lot.”
“Oh my god, I wanna fuck you.”
He sits down and holds his cock straight for you.
“Please? Do?” he begs with cute puppy eyes.
“Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
“Can I do something new with you?”
“I didn’t clean out my butt if you’re suggesting that.”
“What? Hot, but not what I”, you snicker and close the distance, “we have to talk about butt stuff another time, I might bust if we do that now.”
He laughs, eyes filled with fondness.
“Okay. What are you thinking then?” he asks.
“I’ll just show you, okay?”
“Yes, okay.”
You push him down onto the cushions and take his legs to bend them and push them apart.
Yoongi laughs in disbelief, head going dizzy. He looks at you in a mixture of shock, amusement and arousal.
“Too far?”
“No, it’s so sexy.”
“It is. I’ll take you like this. Just like this”, you say and change position so you can take in his cock. You sink him into you carefully, watching his face change into an expression of surprised bliss.
“Mhhhhm”, he lets out in a purr, eyes going hazy.
You move your hips, grinding and rolling them into him with his cock deep inside you. It is as if you were fucking missionary. Except that he is deep inside you and there is nothing penetrating him.
Yoongi doesn’t see a difference, having to gasp for fucking air and dimple his own legs as he holds himself open.
“Like this. What do you think of it?”
He nods his head vigorously, letting out a high-pitched whimper. He never did this before so it is making you dizzy. You chase the warmth between your legs, staring at his flushed face obsessively.
“Yes? You like it?”
“So much. Ah!” he drops his head to the side, rolling his eyes back and grabbing your waist. “so much….”
You drop to your elbows, kissing his neck needily. Your hips are sloppy in how they fuck, filling each of you with electric pleasure.
“This is insane, what the fuck”, Yoongi gets out, following it up with a moan and a scrunch of his handsome face.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, fuck yes. Ah ___ don’t stop, please”, he begs, arching his back.
“Yoongi, oh god”, you keen, clenching around him in excitement. You could get used to making him arch his back. He is so sexy when he does.
Yoongi breathes out and mewls at the same time, resulting in the sweetest sounds of pleasure you have ever heard. You get off on it so good, wanting for him to make another sound. You bury his cock in you as deep as the position allows it, writing your names with your hips. Just as you had hoped, Yoongi makes the sweetest sound, squeezing your waist.
You moan his name, falling into pleasure with him afterwards. You move needily and definitely motivated by alcohol. It is a messy fuck, passionate and confident and so incredibly good.
Yoongi is glad that he is drunk, otherwise he wouldn’t last long. Alcohol makes his cock work just a little slower than if he was sober. At first he thought it would be a problem, but he sees now that it is a blessing. You feel so good - too good - and he wants it to last longer.
“It feels good, please fuck me, please don’t stop”, he begs you, arching his back and curling his toes when your walls throb around him.
“Oh god, you’re so hot”, you mewl, fulfilling his wish with such vigour the cushions of his sofa squeak and croak. Truly, they have never witnessed such a sloppy, good fuck and the best part is that this is only the beginning.
But enough about the sweet future which awaits unknowing you. In the present, you and he have started to share heat and shaky breaths, bodies hot from the long, passionate fuck you have been doing by now. Your thighs ache, begging for a break. Your pussy is so wet that it started to drip down his shaft and plumb balls. It feels so good, constantly keeping you on edge and yet you can’t seem to fall over it. It’s driving you insane by now.
“Fuck”, you are both laughing and moaning your words, tickling his ear with them, “I’m really fucking drunk, it’s hard to get there.”
“Same, ah, but it feels….so good”, he agrees, head dizzy to the point he has to grab the edge of the sofa for support. You have him on cloud nine, high, feeling out of this world.
“It does, you do. Just need more.”
Yoongi flails with his hand on the cushion, trying to find the vibrator. You hand it to him, just as you help him push the button to turn it on. The rest he can do by himself. He guides it between your bodies, connecting it with your lower stomach first.
“Lower, baby, that’s my stomach”, you giggle, claiming his lips in a passionate kiss.
“Sorry”, Yoongi purrs, obeying your orders with such precision you growl and feed him your tongue.
He welcomes it gladly, drooling all over your lips which in this moment is so goddamn sexy and endearing to you. To think you ruin him to the point of sloppy kisses being his norm. You are going to be so fucking obsessed with this man, showing him your growing fondness with deep rolls of your hips.
He can feel the vibrations too, grabbing your upper back as his cock finally begins to work again. This is going to break him and he fears he might pass out from it. He digs his heels into the cushion, meeting your movements needily and without a plan. The only thing his body runs on is how he feels beneath you and the warmth of your tight walls around his cock.
Your body trembles, unoccupied hand burying itself deep in his luscious locks. The kiss breaks but you stay close, panting and moaning into each other’s mouths.
“This is getting me there”, you whimper.
“Me too”, he croaks.
“Yoongi, I…I love you”, you confess, finally falling over the sweet edge. It feels so good, so intense and soul-consuming that you find yourself sobbing and shaking.
Yoongi breaks the second you dropped the big L word, deep voice coming out as little gasps of your name and fingers grasping you for dear life. He didn’t even think that he could orgasm that intensely, but your emotional confession makes it possible. He feels on cloud nine, curling his toes and arching his back.
You collapse on him after your high, dropping the vibrator on the floor accidentally.
“What was that?” he mumbles into your shoulder, cock still throbbing inside you and ears ringing.
“Toy”, you lull, walls pulsating in the afterglow.
“Ah.”
He wraps his arms around you, wiggling his hips a little to ensure his cock would slip out of you. He doesn’t want to risk it softening and the condom slipping off. Cuddling like this, you recover, sharing silence and warmth. You are both so drunk, heads turning even as you lie down. It is almost as if being so connected and sharing such a passionate moment made it worse. You don’t mind it however, you have each other’s presence and that feels very safe to have.
“So this just happened”, Yoongi breaks the silence.
“I know”, you say and break into giddy snickers instantly. Yoongi joins you without hesitation, sharing in the warm fuzzy happiness you and he get to experience together.
“I can’t believe I did that. We did that.”
“It was so hot.”
“It was.”
He hums, rubbing his hands up and down your back. You settle into him with a content sigh, playing with his messy hair.
“The studio is really soundproof, right?”
“It is. Trust me I was louder on my own. Nobody heard me.”
“You are so hot, it’s insane.”
He chuckles lazily, craning his neck to kiss whatever part of your head he reaches first. You purr happily, chasing his kiss by tilting your head closer to him. Another kiss is placed to your heated face, you retort it as best as possible.
“Soo, uhm”, he begins, eyes sparkly and droopy, “you dropped the L word.”
“Oh god, too soon? I’m sorry, please can we just forget-“
“Hush, don’t worry. I’m glad you did. I love you too, just didn’t wanna say it first and scare you away.”
You lift your head. Yoongi meets your eyes.
“You feel the same?”
“I do. I have done so for a while”, he says, smiling softly and reaching up to brush the back of his hand down your face.
“Wow Yoongi, I’m so happy”, you confess, claiming his lips in a giggly kiss.
And of course, because Yoongi is drunk and happy and giddy, he giggles with you. What you and he are having might still be new, but it is right and it is good and it will last. You are both so sure of it.
Genre: smut, little bit of fluff, nonidol!, FWB au
Pairing: nonidol!Yoongi x reader x unnamed female
Warnings: threesome (ffm), oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex
Word count: 2.5k
Summary: You have been friends with benefits with Yoongi for a while now. He asks you one night if you’d be interested in adding another partner for a one night threesome that you enthusiastically agree to. The tryst makes Yoongi realize that his feelings run a little deeper than he thought.
Can we get a part 2 of "get off the floor" ? It was sooo good
you know what? why the fuck not.
get off the floor, m | jjk >> get on the floor, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: You order Jeon Jungkook to get on the floor. He says, “Make me.” You make him get on his knees. The exact place he wants to be and the perfect place for him.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; bratty (needy) JK; wedding guests reader and JK get a damn room because they are not-safe-for-public, traumatizing some elevator patrons in the process; public teasing; smut (fem dom!reader + sub!JK, begging, biting, marking, spit kink, f and m-receiving oral, slight degrading talk (not really), whipping JK with his own belt, cowgirl, cock-and-ball torture, edging, forced multiple orgasms) ft. a cameo of certain lil meowmeow chastising them for being horny ;)
--
“Mine or yours?”
You watched him run the scenarios in his head. “Mine.”
“Ah,” you mused. “Mine then.”
He ran to catch up with your quick strides, looking just about as done with you as you had with him less than twenty minutes ago when he was laying on the floor being insufferable. Deserved. He grumbled under his breath. “Why ask if you’re just going to ignore me anyway?”
You turned and faced Jeon Jungkook, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks and almost collide with you. His white dress shirt was barely buttoned. At least he had the decency to fasten the black vest back up and haphazardly shrug on his blazer. You looked up at him, pointedly, although it was more to fluster him with the lines of your collarbones and cleavage. Instantly wiped the frown from his expression and replaced it with the struggle to focus on your face.
“Why follow if you’re against it?” you asked, completely blocking his path.
“I…” He fumbled with his words. “I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
You both stood in the hallway, so close to the lobby that you could hear voices. You watched Jungkook bite his lower lip, the awareness that if anyone happened to walk by – hotel staff, wedding guest, random patron – would bear witness to you slowly backing him into the wall, expression unchanging, until your chest was pressed against his chest, the smooth curve of your breasts brushing against his bare skin.
You narrowed your eyes.
“You have another thing coming if you think you can take advantage of me,” you breathed. Slowly and with venom.
He seemed genuinely shocked. “No way.” His youth shone through despise his mature appearance. “I want you to take advantage of me.”
You raised an eyebrow.
Jungkook seemed to realize that he blurted out his secret desires a little too loud. His ears began to singe bright red. He tried to raise a hand to cover his face. You slapped it down. He whimpered, pressing his lips together so that only you could hear it vibrating from his chest to yours. You saw his eyes dart about to check if anyone was around.
You grabbed his chin with three fingers, dragging his face back down.
Dark brown orbs shaking, his pink lips parting as you forcefully brought attention back to you. You leaned in, your lips moving against the side of his open mouth, whispering to his lip piercings.
“Then why your hotel room?” you asked rather calmly.
Hesitation. Then voices seemed to be moving towards you both. Panic. Jungkook attempted to escape your grasp, but you gripped his chin harder and shoved your torso into his, stepping between his legs to imprison him against the wall. He gasped in your ear. Hot and saturated with desire. You began to slide your thigh up between his and Jungkook couldn’t speak fast enough, his hands finding your hips and trying to keep you away from his growing erection lest he lose his common sense and give in to all he wanted.
“I wanted to see you in my clothes after,” he whined, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid your stare. “In only one of my t-shirts… And… M-Maybe we could s-share in a b-bed – please, s-stop… I can’t–”
You backed away.
He had not even registered your body heat left until a second later, bolting upright as a group of women turned the corner. Other wedding guests in fine dresses and holding cute colorful purses, deeply engrossed in conversation and fits of giggles, heading to the restrooms presumably to freshen up. You were already walking the opposite way, towards to lobby and the elevators.
You couldn’t help but smirk as you heard Jungkook bolt into a run to catch up.
Careful of your skirt, you stepped into the metal box with a few other hotel guests that seemed unrelated to the wedding. The doors began to close. A tattooed hand smacked the edge of the metal and the elevator stuttered, opening back up again to a red-faced Jungkook in a three-piece black suit with his white dress shirt half-open suddenly confronted by a scattering of startled faces.
And your enigmatic smile.
He weakly apologized and slunk into the elevator.
Now everyone was trying not to make eye contact with you both.
You tugged on the hem of his blazer and pulled him closer to the corner. He could do nothing but obey. From this angle, the rest of the elevator couldn’t see your expression due to his broad shoulders crowding you. Only Jungkook could. He, however, had a harder time of hiding, due to his height and his slicked-back black hair. The elevator carriage began to rise. You spotted him reaching up to smooth back a few stray strands in attempt to disguise previous dishevelment.
You raised your hand.
Jungkook’s dark eyes shot towards the action, warning you and mouthing, “Don’t.”
You traced the line of his pecs. His jaw clenched. You broke into his personal bubble to murmur, “What floor was the hotel room on again?”
Confusion clouded his features. His hand slid to the back of his head. The doors were opening and a few people stepped out. The rest were subjected to the sexual tension brewing in a corner. You smiled up at him, as innocently as a trickster could. Jungkook raised his other hand, probably to point to you to wordlessly ask what floor your room was on, but you scooted forward, grazing hip to hip, causing his hand to ghost your ass. Scarlet alarm rushed to his cheeks.
Your fingertip snuck closer and closer to his nipple.
His right arm dropped hastily and he mashed the button for the nineteenth floor, trying to push your hand down, inadvertently causing your nail to scratch against his already-erect nipple.
It seemed to take everything in him not to moan.
The doors slid open to the tenth floor and another couple hurried out. You gave Jungkook the devil’s smile. He glared at you. And shifted awkwardly. You glanced down. Then back up. He was trying not to look at you while also staring down your chest. Or maybe at the bulge in his slacks.
You paused as you felt his hand settle on the small of your back.
Now when your eyes rose, his did too. Somewhat uncertain. You didn’t move away. He seemed to be searching for something. You didn’t have anything to hide, so you let him look. You saw his lashes lower. He pulled you slightly closer. Leaned in, still searching, and you let him approach, the edge of your lips faintly rising.
A harsh ping interrupted.
“I would tell you two to get a room,” a dry, raspy male voice cut in from behind you.
The metal doors slid open. Jungkook started, backing off, revealing the unintentional audience. Dark olive-green jacket. Black beanie with black hair sticking out from the back. Black track pants and sandals. The pale man was carrying a plastic bag that seemed to be full of ramen. He glanced from Jungkook to you. Shook his head and walked past you both, smelling like fresh-cut pine.
His cat-like eyes found yours as the elevator began to close.
“But I assume that is what you are about to do.”
The not-so-strange stranger’s smirk disappeared as the doors shut.
The light from the panel of buttons switched only once. The doors opened again, to floor nineteen. Only you and Jungkook were left in the carriage. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out to the hallway, practically flying down the halls as quietly as he could. You were still a bit taken aback by the cat-like man who spoke with faint Daegu intonation, but were broken out of your thoughts as you saw Jungkook drop his room card, scramble to catch it from the air, succeed, and then fail to have the card reader scan it because he was pulling out too fast.
Hm.
You placed your palm in front of the reader.
His hand was shaking. He shot you a lost and frustrated glance, but you simply took the hotel key and inserted it into the slot, letting it turn green before removing it and opening the door. You stepped in, followed close by Jungkook. So close his crotch hit your ass. Subtle. The heavy door slid shut, automatically clicking. And then.
Darkness.
For a breathless second, the world was completely, utterly still.
You heard his breathing quicken, as if he finally realized the implications of everything up until now. It was easy to want, Jungkook learned, but much harder to do once the miracle came true. Perhaps that was too nice of a way to put it.
His idea of paradise was clearly not heaven sent.
You caught his hand in the dark, lacing your fingers in his to draw him away from the light switch.
Your name on the tip of his tongue before you kissed him deeply.
In the dark, he hadn’t noticed your body twist, silent as a snake, slipping the hotel keycard back into one of the font pockets of his slacks, and now you gripped his hand, holding it up and out of the way as your other hand roamed his skin, sliding up his collarbone and fanning over his neck. Devouring. You swallowed his gasp and tilted your head, softly coaxing his cries as you pressed your fingertips into the sides of his neck, relishing in the solidness of his muscles and the fragility of his sanity.
“A-Ah…”
You turned your head and used your hand to pivot him the opposite way. His wispy moan breezed past your cheek. It wasn’t quite as important to be silent anymore, but darkness had the ability to hush all, snatching vision away to amplify touch and sound. Your hand cradled his head and forced him down, your lips feathering over his cheekbone.
To his ear.
You circled your tongue, tasting the curve. Jungkook’s moan pitched. You felt him fighting his blazer as you kissed his ear, whisper light, almost noiseless, licking up his neck to feel his pulse against your tongue. Exhaled. His entire body quivered. He threw the blazer down onto the floor and grabbed your hips, almost lifting you in his pleasure, bringing more of his ear to you.
You bit down.
“Oh, fuuuuck…”
His fingers glossed over the slinky fabric, one hand on your ass the other creeping up your back, stroking your skin to guide delightful shimmers up your spine. He provoked you to bite his neck. You teased him with small kisses. Wet tongue, subtly writing your name onto his neck with your spit. A momentary tattoo only you knew. He was impatient, digging his blunt nails into your flesh.
You couldn’t resist teasing.
“What’s the matter?”
His trembling breath drifted down to your shoulder.
“B… Bite me.”
You stepped forward with one leg, smiling as you felt him press back against you, his hardness slipping into the divot of your thigh and crotch. Too many layers of clothes. Just the right amount of not enough.
“I can’t,” you hummed, running your tongue over the line of his neck muscle. “What if you have someone?”
Jungkook sounded a little bit offended and a lot whiny.
“There’s no one but you.”
Before you could become giddy over that – and, anyway, nothing was stopping him from lying – you bit the side of his neck, just under his ear. And sucked.
Hard.
It was an intimacy high unmatched. Skin between teeth, digging your fingernails into his chest, dragging down, scratching him as you bruised him, feeling his embrace loosen because the bliss of pain seized him. A gasping, weak groan fluttered from his lungs, up to his throat, leaving his lips in a drawn-out, sensual song of your name, lazily thrusting up against your thigh. Sweet friction. You lashed your tongue over the hickey. Left a constellation of bites surrounding it. Jungkook whimpered, stumbling as you caught his ear with your teeth and lightly tugged, subtly repositioning your bodies.
You flicked on the light switch.
The sconces on the walls lit up in a soft, pale white glow.
You looked down and the bruises were red-purple, a lasting mark beginning to deepen in color.
Your eyes shifted and Jungkook was staring back at you, panting. His carefully done hair was getting messier with every minute he spent with you. His vest was somehow on the floor. His dress shirt was barely hanging on his shoulders, the spread collar framing the top of his tattoo sleeve. The only reason he wasn’t completely shirtless yet was because the bottom was stuck in the top of his slacks. His belt was still buckled.
You smiled. He seemed flustered by it.
You placed a hand on his bare shoulder.
“Get on the floor.”
His dark eyes glittered. He couldn’t help himself.
“Make me.”
Your smile became a little more sinister. He balked and then buckled when the toe of your heel hooked into the back of his knee, making him lose his balance. You pressed down, firmly, pushing him to kneeling position. Your heel clicked back onto the tile floor as he caught himself, keeping steady as he realized you were using his body to balance yourself.
Jungkook lifted his head. Eyes wide. Hair over his forehead.
You looked down at him with a devil’s smirk.
“I thought you said… That my suit was too expensive to be on the floor,” he mumbled in meek protest.
He tried to be cheeky with it. His deep voice fluttered like butterfly wings.
Instead of truly replying, you stepped a little closer to his spread knees. You watched him hold his breath, then stiffen as you placed your right foot on his thigh. The slit of your dress parted like liquid violet, the deep color catching the light at the high points of your hip and the top of your thigh. You removed your hand from his shoulder, thoroughly keeping him in place with your high heel, and slipped your fingers at the apex of the slit, hiking it up. The heavy scent of your arousal was inescapable. Heavy and musky sweet. His eyes dropped down at the grand reveal, then widened as you traced the edge of the leg opening of your panties.
You curved your fingers and pulled the thin fabric aside.
Jungkook was now face-to-face with your glistening pussy.
“Hungry?” you teased.
His pleading gaze shot back up to your amused expression. You held it in breathless anticipation. Then you answered yourself.
“I hope so.”
Then you grabbed his head and shoved it in between your legs.
You caught a glimpse of his lips parting, pink tongue extending, and then you felt the warmth envelop you from below. His hand slid up your leg, leaving sparks after his trailing caress. Pleasure like soft petals closing in, and you rocked your hips into his face, feeling his tongue spread your folds apart and dip inwards. His wanton groan made your body vibrate. You gave in, riding his face with your head tipped back, closing your eyes. Rather than hearing the wet sucking sounds, you felt them electrify your nerves. From bud to blossoming bliss, causing you hiss with desire, crowning his head with your spread fingers and holding up your dress with the other. Jungkook tilted his head, closing in around your clit while lifting your leg on his thigh, and now the back of your knee was resting on his shoulder, the adjustment spreading your legs further and giving him the space to press his tongue flat to rub more roughly.
You moaned his name, low and seductive, and felt him shudder under you.
You leaned more of your weight on him and he received it well, holding your legs with his hands, licking, sucking, following the thrust of your hips into his face. You could feel your arousal dripping down, sticking to the inside of your thighs and his cheeks. He moaned in his chest and it radiated through your core, crawling closer and closer to the crescendo, ah, almost, your lashes fluttering, your grip on your dress tightening as orgasmic gravity began to pull you down.
“Fuck, Jungkook, I’m going to cum on your face,” you sighed out, twisting your fingers and pulling on his hair.
His muffled whimper sent you over the edge.
You set your jaw and exhaled heavily, bucking your hips into his mouth and spilling onto his tongue, electric elation clawing up your ass and back. Your body tensed up, completely focused on the surge of pleasure rippling through you, pressing your thigh against his ear. Your hand on his head slid down, holding him in place while your rode it out, smearing your release on his lips. You could, just barely, feel his piercings indenting your skin.
You almost didn’t let him breathe.
Then you let go.
Your head rolled back. Opened your eyes to look down, and Jungkook shuddered, his hot breath warming your heat. He leaned in again. Kiss after kiss, his tongue sliding out and licking up, closing his eyes to savor your taste, sending tingles after the high, before slowly opening those dark orbs to look up at you. You brushed his hair back from his forehead to fully appreciate the view.
He raised an eyebrow at you.
You untangled your leg from his shoulder and stepped back, taking away his pleasure.
His hands slipped from your body. Jungkook was distraught, desperation flaring in his eyes, about to crawl after you, but your swept down, flourishing your right hand and catching his chin in your palm, tilting it up.
His lips shone with your cum.
He froze.
You bowed, disrespectfully, bringing your face to his level, breathing in the perfume of your sex mixed with his cologne. You raised an eyebrow back at him even though he was back to being frozen in awe.
“Tongue-tied?”
You taunted him. Jungkook didn’t have the sense or sanity to have a smartass comeback.
“Take mine,” you offered.
And tilted your head to taste yourself.
In. Out. Your tongue outlined his moaning lips and dove back in, thrusting steadily, turning the kiss messy with your release drying on his cheeks and your saliva smearing down his lower lip. You flicked the tip of your tongue just under the center. His eyes were barely open, pupils blown out, unfocused, letting you claim his lips with no regard to himself except for sucking on your tongue when you allowed it.
You heard him swallow.
His eyes rolled back, and his entire body trembled with a breathless gasp.
You drew back to admire Jeon Jungkook on his knees, his white dress shirt pooling at his wrists and waist. All tan skin, gleaming muscles, and stunning tattoos.
His dress shoes and your heels were tossed into an inelegant pile quite unbecoming of you both.
Lust did that.
“Do you have a condom, by chance?” you asked.
You gave him a little bit of shit for having one buried in his suitcase. His toiletries bag shaped with a pink bunny motif, for fuck’s sake. He tried to hide it from you, as if you would find cute offensive. Had he ever looked in a mirror? But you let him be. His occupied hands gave you a chance to free yourself from your dress. You had paid for it to be tailored to your body, eliminating the need for a bra as it was already built in. Your hotel room key was tucked into the padding of the left breast. Creativity had to happen when there were no pockets. You didn’t have your phone or wallet. The wedding had a strict no-phone policy and the meal was complimentary, so you had left your personal things behind in your room. You were careful to hold onto the cups as you unzipped. The thin straps naturally slipped down your shoulders, no longer supported by the tension. The dark purple fabric slid down your body gradually with some help from a light shake of your ass.
You stepped out of it and lifted the dress up, draping it over one of the chairs in the hotel room.
You turned and Jungkook was staring at you with jaw dropped.
Hm.
He had managed to pull his shirt out of his pants. It lay on the floor, its white crispness rumpled with impatience. You pointedly glanced from the shirt to his naked chest. He held the line of condoms with one hand, the foil packaging shining in the light. Your eyes went to his face. He seemed taken aback. Suddenly nervous. You said nothing. With a tick of your head, you bent over and slid your thumbs under the sides of your bunched-up panties and glided them down your legs. Caught them in the air as you stepped out of them.
And placed them on the hotel dresser, right on top of Jungkook’s cell phone that happened to be there.
Your fingertips strayed on the edge as you face him again.
“Oh, fuck me,” he whispered under shallow breath.
You smiled with the innocence you stole from him and advanced.
You wondered if he meant to say it out loud. Didn’t mind his little slip-ups though. His ears reddened as you stopped in front of him. You stared into Jungkook’s eyes. He held his breath. You reached low and unbuckled his belt, gently teasing it apart and pulling from the buckle. It snaked around his waist, freed from the pant loops. The last of it fell into your other palm.
With a swift flick, you drew the buckle and end together, snapping the leather loop sharply in front of Jungkook’s chest.
“A-Ah!”
He came back to life, freezing immediately when you touched the loop to his pecs. It was a smooth grain leather. Very high quality. You grazed it over his skin. Turned it slightly as you neared his nipple, brushing the hard edge over the hard nub. He moaned in your face, biting his lip once he realized his impoliteness. You did it again. His eyelids fluttered, lowering to half-moons, clutching the condoms.
From your periphery, you witnessed his other hand sneak down to palm himself.
You turned the belt in your hands. You held the buckle with your left.
The look in his eyes was divine, craving punishment.
“You like pain,” you whispered. “Don’t you?”
Jungkook gave you the faintest of nods, sinking his teeth into the side of his lower lip, revealing the tiny mole underneath.
You smacked the smooth leather of the end of the belt into his chest.
“Answer me.”
He hissed, clenching his jaw while rubbing the highest point of the bulge in his slacks. You let him enjoy it. You were too busy enjoying the glassiness of his dark eyes.
“A-Ah, y-yes… Please…”
You slapped the leather against his other nipple. He gasped at the sharpness, ducking his head and seeing the slight red mark before you closed the distance, circling your tongue around it and making eye contact. You let your saliva drip. His breathing quickened, watching your every move. You drew patterns on his tense abs with the end of his own belt as you delicately bit down. Switched begin a light tap and a hard spank, all the while kissing his chest. You folded back the belt in your hand so it was easier to use the one end, alternating hits over wet skin and dry skin. His heartbeat raced under your lips. He let out a soft mewl, and then immediately tried to cover up such embarrassing noises, only to be reduced to puppy whimpers as you repeatedly smacked his nipple before roughly sucking on it.
At this point, Jungkook was practically humping his hand.
“Take it off.”
You warmed his shivering torso with your harsh command.
“Stroke your cock while I abuse you.”
Jungkook whined, incomprehensible. He was already doing his best to undo the button. You heard the zipper go down as you straightened. You whipped the belt over his bunched pecs. He gasped, almost a scream, shoving his slacks and boxer briefs down together. You had about a half second to appreciate how hard and how red he was before he wrapped his hand around his girth, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head, and he began to fuck his hand.
His pants didn’t even have time to fall down his thighs.
You did exactly what he wanted.
Licked up his chest. Spanked across the red trail, leaving a reddened mark. You did not give in to the adrenaline, keeping each hit within measured force, switching between hard and soft, not allowing him to become desensitized. The pain was unpredictable. The contrast made each loud slap seem worse than it was. His skin turned red. His eyes glazed over. His head tilted back slightly, the volume of his moans rising, his body rigid. You wondered if he knew that would help disperse the pain, but didn’t ask. The desperate lust was making him drunker than the alcohol he had consumed earlier.
The muscles of his neck tightened.
“Don’t cum,” you warned.
“P-P-Please…” He seemed on the brink of losing it. “Don’t… d-do this…”
You waited until the last second.
Then you shifted the belt in your hands, holding onto both ends, and tucked the loop under his balls, forcefully tugging upwards.
“Drop it.”
He obeyed instantly despite the tears on the edge of his eyes. The heavy weight of his hard cock struck the belt, dipping it down. You lifted the leather to fully cup his shaft and, while holding his terrified, eager gaze, slowly crossed your hands over, trapping his cock in a makeshift leather ring with his belt.
His cock throbbed so strongly that you felt it almost dislodge your work of art.
You raised an eyebrow.
Jungkook panted, waiting for your next order.
You glanced at the dark red-purple tip. It was shiny with pre-cum. Your gaze raised. His eyes were begging yes. His mouth kept up the act.
“N-No, don’t… please…”
“Touch it,” you murmured with the sweetness of a succubus.
His fingertips ghosted the sensitive skin and he almost buckled, shaking his head. You kept your grip on the belt, preventing him from lowering too much. If he wanted to escape you, all he would have to do was back up. But Jeon Jungkook did not want to escape you. He wanted to stare into your eyes and tease the leaking head of hic cock, shuddering and melting under the heat of your gaze, his body surrendering, subservient to your sublime, stinging conquest.
His hips were slowly thrusting.
His palm was against the tip, using the dripping pre-cum to stimulate himself as his fingertips rubbed along the underside. His lashes fluttered, doing his very best to not look away from you while also almost hitting the high of rolled-back eyes. The strong scent of his pre-cum and your arousal mixed together, saturating the air with pure sex. You took in every detail of his face, witnessing his fall to orgasm.
Almost.
You relaxed your hold on the belt.
“Fuck!”
Jungkook bit back his tongue and shot you his most helpless, longing expression. Probably two beats away from pleading you to whip his dick if only for the mere chance of release. It almost worked. Those big eyes truly were your downfall. You forced yourself to step away with a slow exhale, dropping the belt with a clunk and pointing to the bed.
“Lay on your back.”
You barely got the words out of your mouth. Jungkook nearly ripped the clothes off his body. You might have heard a seam pop. You pointed to the row of condoms in his hand and didn’t have the chance to ask before he separated one and ripped it open. On one hand, you wanted to reprimand him. On the other hand, the situation between your legs was getting rather dire.
You, too, were losing patience.
You stood on the edge of the bed, carefully observing Jungkook.
Those eyes trusted you a little too much after you whipped his chest red.
You decided to trust him too.
Slid onto the bed, crawling forward with immoral intention. In between his legs. He hesitated just before putting the condom on. You breathed out over his twitching cock. He whimpered. You loved it. Your tongue extended. With each throb, the head hit the flat of your tongue, transferring strings of spit down his length. His eyelids fluttered. You closed your lips around his hot, thick cock, unable to resist a taste, pressing him to the back of your throat, already addicted to the way he filled your mouth. You thought about edging him again but your pussy was pulsating with need.
You lifted your head, whispering darkly against his wet, shuddering cock.
“Fuck me.”
It was almost a growl.
The condom rolled down and you straddled him for the second time that night, using two fingers to hold him steady before sinking down, arching your back at the slick, full feeling of his cock entering you. It was a long-awaited reward, almost making you dizzy from the finality of it. Both of you moaned in unison. His hands found your thighs, kneading them, and you could feel him watching you, drinking in every detail with his eyes as you sank down, locking your hips to his.
Your gazes connected.
You couldn’t resist.
“Say please.”
His brows knitted together. You clenched around him. The defiance was instantly erased, replaced by submission.
“A-Ah…! Please…” The way your name dripped from his panting mouth was intoxicating. “Please…”
You rolled your hips into his with a firm smack.
The pleasure was glorious, direct, shooting through you from below. You drew up and thrust him back into you, again, and again, your breathing laboring as you rode him, drawing him and you to the abyss of lust. His gaze lingered on your bouncing breasts and he reached up, unsteadily, intoxicated on this feeling and refusing to sober up, sinking his fingers into the soft curves. You exhaled hard, blood tingling, moaning softly as his thumbs ran over your hard nipples, rubbing them in time of your rhythm. His fingertips were rough in the most arousing way, adding to the sensations amplifying each other, and so you let him touch you all over, feeling the edge of your lips tick upwards as your orgasm neared.
“I told you to fuck me, Jungkook.”
With half-moon eyes and a drawn-out moan, his hands slipped down your sides. Grabbed your hips and thrust up, making you both gasp. Hard. Slow. You pushed back down and both of you built to a brutal pace, your hands on his abs, digging your nails into hard muscle, and Jungkook was losing his mind, throwing his head back into the pillow, dripping sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. Your core burned, chasing the high, your back arching as well, matching each loud obscene smack with a satisfied cry, closer and harder and skipping breaths to withhold the faintest bit of oxygen.
Searing tension overcame your thighs.
You moaned to the ceiling and came all over his jerking cock, his groan pitching to a whine as he was suffocated by the spasms. You felt your pussy pulsate, dragging you into wave after wave of blistering bliss. The exertion had rendered you airless, gasping, squeezing Jungkook’s hips with your legs while you felt his grip on your ass tighten, sinking his spread fingers into the softness.
You froze, suspended.
Dying that little death.
You were still for a good thirty seconds. His cock throbbed inside you. You lowered your head, drifting down, down, meeting a fucked-out expression and unfocused gaze.
You smiled.
There was something so dangerous about it that it broke Jungkook from his reverie.
You lifted yourself off him, causing his length to slip out with a wet slap to his lower abdomen.
“W-What…?”
You made sure he saw you do it. Your hand extended, rolling up and he begged, “O-Oh, d-don’t… Please, you’re c-crazy…” and paying his words no mind as you dropped the used condom onto his stomach. You wrapped your hand around his slippery, sensitive cock covered in lube and cum.
Held him in panicked anticipation.
“Say it,” you demanded sternly. “You know what you want.”
The reality of his fantasy devoured him, and Jungkook desperately moaned.
“Please jack me off. Hard. Fast. Don’t stop.”
You gripped tightly and let the adrenaline flow. Power surged through your veins as he flinched, groaning into the pillow, his fingers digging into the sheets. His shaft felt hot, slick, stiff. You kept up an intense, harsh pace, and Jungkook cried out, almost thrashing, loudly whining as he came again. Cum pooled at the purple-red head, foaming as you continued, rising to press your knee to his lower ribs, holding him down. He was losing his mind, too oversensitive, whining, “Please, one more, o-oh fuck, f-fuck, please,” and you reached between his legs, tactfully pinching his scrotum and pulling on his balls with just the right amount of measured force.
Jungkook howled and slammed his head back into the pillow, thrusting up into your hand and orgasming so hard his own scream was cut off.
You ceased all movement.
His throbbing cock shivered and spat out a dribble of white that pooled around your fingers. You relieved his chest from the pressure of your knee. He coughed, sucking in greedy inhales, grabbing your calf as you dismounted. You turned your head. He was incredibly sweaty. His chest was tight. He looked like he had run a hundred kilometers.
Or like you just run him through.
You raised an eyebrow at him.
“I-Is it c-crazy…” Jungkook panted, staring into your eyes. “That I… Want you to d-do that again?”
There he goes again with his antics.
“You really are a pain slut.”
His lips curved into a daredevil, open-mouthed smirk.
“I like that about you.”
His ears flustered red at your compliment. You held his stare there for another uncomfortable second – on his part – and then looked down at the messy, drenched sheets before finally returning to his face.
“You’re sleeping on this side,” you declared, sliding off the edge of the bed to wash your hands.
You spotted his open suitcase on your way to the dark bathroom. It was crammed with clothes. You bent down to pick up one of his t-shirts, a white Calvin Klein, slipping it on over your naked body. Flicked on the light and turned your head to glance over your shoulder.
Jungkook was staring at you from the bed. Big eyes wide. Jaw slack. Black hair messy and all over his sweaty forehead. Naked and oh-so-very hot and perfectly enthralled by you while also being head-to-toe trouble for you, specifically.
Yes, you thought, I’ll keep him.
You smiled with a different kind of genuine pleasure and stepped into the bathroom, hearing the hotel bed fly into disarray as he chased after you.
summary: One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.
warnings: dom!seokjin, sub!reader, sir kink, use of slut/whore, dirty talk, spanking, but spanking with a belt 😳, impact play, oral (f receiving), orgasm control, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, hair pulling, IKEA-induced frustration, non-sexual talk of pegs and holes, seokjin ultimately being Best Boyfriend Material™
notes: inspired by how I’ve never felt more grateful to be single than when I had to assemble some IKEA furniture. I promise I’m not getting commission from IKEA for product placement.
When you had told Hoseok that you wouldn’t be able to hang out this weekend because you and Seokjin had plans to assemble your new bed frame, he had laughed at you and said that it was nice to have known the pair of you as a couple.
You had taken his joke in stride and laughed with him, knowing that for any couple to truly go the distance, they would need to pass the IKEA test: make it through an IKEA store and assemble an IKEA product without breaking up.
You and Seokjin had passed the first part of the IKEA test with flying colors. You both had easily agreed to purchase the BRIMNES storage bed, liking how the drawers underneath the bed would help you maximize the space in your bedroom. Although, your easy decision might have more to do with the fact that you had simply ordered your bed frame online rather than spending a whole afternoon in IKEA.
All that was left was for you to actually assemble the bed frame. Surely the two of you could do that.
☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.
☾ Word Count: 2,119
☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (female receiving) use of a vibrator, sex in front of a live audience (via streaming), voyeurism, teasing if you squint, Yoongi talking about reader to stream (idk she's not an object, he's just commentating on her), Yoongi is a sex worker and cam boy
☾ Published: August 8, 2022
☾ A/N: This drabble changed 200 times - I know it's a little repetitive from the first but with the time I had to write this, I had to take the penetration out. Drabble 3 will actually include Yoongi dicking down reader okay I promise.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | Series Masterlist | Part of Hali’s Happy Agust | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Yoongi: Thoughts on helping me out this weekend?
The text message lights up while you’re getting ready for bed. Chewing your lip, you look at the screen as you apply lotion to your face. Your mind drifts for a moment, recalling the way Yoongi had made you cum just a week prior.
Even after turning off the stream, he’d look at you with those hungry eyes. Had got back down on his knees. Pushed your knees to your just. Hold yourself open for me, baby, he had asked. You shiver, recalling the way he matched the flick of his tongue with the smooth stroke of two fingers.
Yoongi asks for nothing in return. He had been painfully hard that night but had told you no when you offered to take care of him. You’d been concerned it was something to do with you until he laughed and said that the night had been about you.
It would be a lie to say you haven’t gone back and watched the video. At first, you only made it a few seconds in before slamming your laptop shut. Then you had warmed up to it. Now it was the only way you could get off, remembering Yoongi’s hot, wet mouth.
Me: What’s the subject matter?
Yoongi: How to use vibrators while performing oral on those who have vaginas.
You shiver. You type out a response and then delete it again. Fuck you’ve been dreaming about his mouth ever since he made you cum both on and off stream.
Me: Sounds convincing.
Yoongi: Thanks, baby.
Grinning like an idiot, you collapse backward on your bed and squeal, smiling at the ceiling.
-
“Shit,” you whisper, words dripping out of you like honey as Yoongi smirks against your mouth. You shake beneath him again, his finger teasing your clit. His breath is against your lips, your naked chest pressed against him. “Feels good.”
“Hmm.” He presses wet kisses to your jaw, sucking the flesh between his teeth to nip lightly, tongue chasing the sting away. “So fucking pretty. You sure you’re good?”
You nod. Your eyes are closed, focusing on the way that Yoongi lights you up from within. You’re barely able to breathe underneath him, and he’s barely touched you besides light grinding and making out.
With Yoongi? It’s enough.
“Words,” Yoongi prompts, kissing your chin. “Need to hear you say it.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Yoongi rewards you by stealing your lips with his. Your fingers press against his shoulder blades as he lets his hips pin yours down. He’s stripped to jeans, shirtless and flushed. You can’t get enough of him, the way his skin is warm and slick with a light sheen of sweat. He’s flushed pink on his chest.
Every new layer to Yoongi makes your head spin. You don’t acknowledge how eager you were to come here. Don’t think about how easily you let him strip you down in front of a camera, whispering so lowly in your ear that even though you feel his words vibrate through you to your curling toes, you know the microphone can’t hear it.
He is stunning. His mused hair, silken and sticky against his forehead from you working him up. Blush tinted skin, glossy in places where he’s let your mouth suck pretty blossoms of varying shades into his skin.
Without his shirt on, Yoongi makes your head heady. He’s beautiful fully clothed, but your hands being able to feel the creamy skin, the way his muscles twitch under your inquisitive hands and hungry mouth is enough to make you go crazy.
Like before, you discussed the rules that have led up to this moment. Today's tutorial is on how to combine vibrators with oral on people with pussies. He had chuckled and shook his head slightly when you referred to it as PWP, which meant something else entirely in his world.
Now, Yoongi steals another sweetened kiss from you, lips like honey. His skin is hot against yours, feverish as he nips the fresh of your collarbone again.
“Ready?”
“Yes, please.”
You feel him smile against your skin, stealing a kiss that is too gentle for the sinful man above you. “Color?” he asks, nipping your stomach as he begins his descent toward the laptop.
“Green.”
Like before, you try not to give much attention to Yoongi’s opening. He greets his viewers and briefs them on what he’s going to do. All the while, he keeps a hand between your legs, thumb pressed firmly on your clit, wiggling it back and forth just the slightest to make you pant.
You have no idea how he does it. You’ve spent years in the same circle as Min Yoongi and never imagined that you could be where you are now. He chortles deeply and presses a kiss to your knee. You open your eyes – not remember when you had closed them – and see him speaking to the camera again.
“Yes, JJKbunny, this is my same helper as last time.” Yoongi nips your knee and you moan. His half-lidded eyes drift up to you and he turns away from the laptop entirely. His thumb presses your clit harder, the heels of your feet digging into the bed as he props a chin on your knee. “Been dreaming about her pussy since last weekend. Finally, I get another taste.”
Yoongi watches you with dark eyes. He’s no longer interested in the comments flooding the screen. His gaze is corrosive, eating away at your anxiety and leaving you craving more of him.
Always more. He makes you need more.
“You look so fucked out,” he whispers. He removes his thumb from your clothed clit and slips it underneath the fabric instead. You cock your head back, gasping at the ceiling as he curses, chin digging into your knee as he brushes his thumb up and down your wet slit. “Nice and wet. A perfect pussy waiting to be eaten, hmm?”
You nod. “Please.”
Yoongi shifts, lifting his chin from your knee and standing up on his knees to reach over you and grabs a bullet vibrator. It’s small and shiny, the hum barely audible as he switches it on. Yoongi finds a home between your legs again and makes himself comfortable. With quick hands, he pulls your panties down before putting them somewhere you can’t see.
“As always,” Yoongi begins, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flurry. “Your partner should always be wet. My partner doesn’t have that problem,” he grins as he traces the soft flesh of your inner thigh with the vibrator. “If yours does, it’s not a big deal. Everyone has different body chemistry, and sometimes it takes longer to get there. Please use lube – it exists for a reason. Use one that is safe for consumption, and please use enough to make the experience pleasurable.”
Blood rushes to your center the moment he teases your entrance with the bullet. You let out a soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a wispy moan. The vibrations tickle through you, drawing more of your essence out of you as Yoongi circles your ring of muscles with the device.
It feels good. Better than good. Your heart falls out of syncopation with your breath. You feel the heat in every inch of your body, flushed and fevered as Yoongi continues, “Never be too harsh with a vibrator. You always need to talk to your partner about what they like. Some clits are too sensitive. Some aren’t sensitive enough. My partner is moderately sensitive, but it’s nice to tease her for a moment, to work up to it.”
Yoongi presses his other hand gently to your knee, prying you open for his eyes – and others, but it’s him that matters. You roll your head to the side of the pillows that he has propped you against, watching hazily. You had not realized your legs were drifting shut.
“See how her pretty little hole clenches?” Yoongi asks, his voice like cashmere slipping over every one of your nerves. “You don’t always have to go right for the prize. This feels good too.” He dips the head of the bullet just into your entrance and you gasp, leaning forward suddenly. “See how she reacts?”
You can feel your slick dripping down your thighs as Yoongi ghosts the bullet vibe up to your clit. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs for one long moment as your mind blanks, the pleasure shooting through you both a relief and setting your limbs afire.
“Fuuuuuck,” it comes out as a high-pitched whine, voice out of your control.
Gently, Yoongi continues to focus on you, watching the crease of your brow, the way you bite your bottom lip, the way your breath rattles out of you as though you can barely let it go. Every nerve is aflame, burning with the way he teases you.
No one else can do this to you. You’re somehow sure of it. Your fingers curl in the blanket as he slowly draws the vibrator back down to circle your entrance, giving your clit a moment. You suck in air sharply. It feels like you can’t breathe enough, like you can’t cool off.
“How’s it feel?”
“Good,” you croak, lost on a horizon of pleasure, floating delicately on his words. “Can you take my mouth now?” You nod. “Verbal, baby. You sure?”
“Yes, please. I want your mouth.”
He hums. “Greedy. Always ask your partner if they can handle more,” Yoongi murmurs to his viewers. “Communication is important. If they’re not relaxed, they won’t be able to feel as good.”
Your vision swims when you open your eyes. They’ve been squeezed shut so hard that colors were beginning to splash across the vast darkness, your own northern lights. But you want to see this – want to see Yoongi.
With a quick smirk, Yoongi draws his mouth toward you, pink tongue flicking out for a soft lick at your clit. Combined with the constant hum of the vibrator, you let out a loud curse, making him chuckle. He kisses your clit sweetly before he fastens his mouth against your bud, sucking gently.
New pleasure unfurls inside of you, blossoming from your pussy through your lower stomach. You’re going to cum in a few minutes. You can feel it as he sucks you gently, alternating between lush suckles and languid licks.
Yoongi’s mouth is a weapon. He’s created something lethal, something sharpened by skill and steady practice and the thought alone makes your hand shoot down to his hair, fingers carding gentling through the strands.
“Keep in mind you can also use a vibrating dildo or one that has the length to stimulate the g-spot,” he mutters between sinful sucks on your pussy. “Today I chose a bullet because teaching how to make them squirt is later.” His eyes meet yours. “And I would make her squirt if I did that right now.”
Nothing else matters. There is nothing else. There’s just you and Yoongi. He takes his mouth from you and switches, placing the bullet just below your clit, making you hum, hips twitching back and forth. He dips his tongue into your dripping hole, greedy for the way you taste.
“I’m gonna- fuuuuuck – I’m gonna-“
You can’t finish the sentence. It doesn’t matter. Yoongi knows. His tongue grows firmer and he adds movement to his ministrations with the vibrator. You squeak – you can’t make any other noise as you ascend, body tensing tensing tensing tensing.
The pressure mounts. Yoongi gives a particularly firm lick accompanied by the wiggling of the vibrator and you cum hard – nearly coming off the bed entirely. Yoongi is mindful, pinning your stomach with one hand while he removes the vibrator with the other. He keeps his tongue on you, coaxing you through trembling limbs and gasping breath with his mouth.
You lick your lips, eyes closed as you breath hard at the ceiling. Yoongi pulls his mouth from you, pressing kisses to your inner thighs as he ribs your calves. You let him lull you into a state of peace for a few long moments, letting him leave glossy marks of spit and come wherever his mouth graces your skin.
“How are you?” he asks, voice like velvet.
“Good. M’good.”
“You are so fucking beautiful when you come. The whole chat is cumming with you.” He’s looking over his shoulder when you manage to open your eyes. “They almost love this pussy as much as I do,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your knee fondly, hands still stroking your legs. “Too bad. I don’t share.”
Your heart flips in your chest as you close your eyes again, humming in relief.
a/n: hey guysyyssss I am so sorry I’ve been so behind with writing college is a mess and the football world has taken me WAHHHH anyways ! this is an apology.
take this as you will it’s based off of the following: “when I tell you to sit, I don’t mean hover. I mean sit.” ENJOY’
you fidget nervously — or at least, as nervously as you can, given the fact that you’re starkly naked and kneeling over jungkook’s face right now. though you don’t dare to look down at him, too overwhelmed in your own head to see if he’s expecting something or you, you can tell he’s staring right up at you.
his hands on your thighs feel like they could burn right through your skin, and it’s the slight pinch above your right knee that does you in, making your vision flit down towards him. his face is covered in a soft pink flush, lips parted and eyebrows knitted together in a silent demand, one that urges you to somehow explain your lack of movement.
“I don’t wanna hurt you-“
“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t be hurting me?” The tone in which he speaks to you sends warmth flooding between your thighs. You’re positive you’re glisteningly wet, and you know he can tell, so there’s really no reason for you to prolong your pleasure; something he affirms when he speaks again. “Cmon, baby. I wanna make you feel good. Don’t you wanna feel good?”
Jungkook’s encouragement, coupled with his soft tug of your thighs has you spreading your knees, letting the softness of the sheets distract you from the, for some reason, Herculean task at hand.
You feel his soft breath on your folds as you sink down, and take it as a sign to stop, tantalizingly close to his face until you’re sure he can reach if he were to just crane his neck up a little.
jungkook, however, doesn’t have it. He tuts disapprovingly, straying away from the gentle touch with which he was pulling you towards him to haul your hips down onto his face so his nose is just shy of your clit.
The sudden jerk has you letting out a surprised yelp, one that melts into a moan at its tail end when he separates your folds with his tongue. It doesn’t last very long, though, because he pulls away, all but demanding you to look at him.
“When I tell you to sit, I mean it. Don’t hover, sit.”
He doesn’t let you respond, although a tacit apology sits on the tip of your tongue, instead opting to continue licking at your core, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. the warm wetness has you moaning out loud, soft whines that are punctuated by your hands flying down to his hair, almost pushing him further into you. your previous shyness is nowhere to be found now, hips bucking forward in jerks as jungkook finds your clit, sucking it and pulling away before pressing yet another kiss onto your cunt.
it’s almost like he wants to edge this out, bring out your impatience until you demand for him to let you use him, but you find yourself appreciating his languid movements, letting out heavy breaths as he parts your folds, prodding at your entrance with his tongue. if the contact didn’t feel so good, you reckon you’d be reeling with how the humiliating soft squelches you can hear from between your legs, somehow made worse by the way he all but slurps at the wetness that leaks out of you. it’s dirty, but the way jungkook is taking you, it seems right; his mouth belongs on your cunt, and you don’t want it to ever move.
as he continues to seek out your entrance with his tongue, you can feel a tightness coil in your stomach, sparks of pleasure igniting whenever his warm fingertips travel down your thighs. you swear your eyes bulge out of your head when he finally plunges his tongue into you, licking around inside you and then lapping up the wetness after he pulls out. you can imagine the way he looks right now, partially blinded by you on top of him, chin and lips covered in your wetness and the image almost has you cumming on the spot, the sounds you let out becoming more and more unabashed as he continues to fuck you with his tongue.
your hips seems to move on their own accord, surging forward to meet his shallow thrusts, bucking towards him in desperation when he pulls away to pay more attention to your clit, something that has your hands tightening in his hair and your eyes rolling back. you don’t ever want to get off his face, you want to use him for your own pleasure and the way he hasn’t even pulled away for a breath tells you that he wouldn’t mind that notion either.
you can’t even form words, the pleasure leaving your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth and your limbs shaky. Jungkook’s shifted all his attention to your clit now, leaving you jerking your hips up to somehow escape the onslaught of pressure in your lower stomach, the feeling proving to be too much as your voice fails you, moans choked out in the back of your throat. he tightens the grip he has on your thighs, though, forcing you to take everything he has to give, suckling on the nub before letting go, and using the tip of his tongue to flick at it.
you try to tell him you’re close, try to get anything out other than the high-pitched, broken, slurred out whines and moans that escape your bitten lips, but nothing comes of it. the coil in your stomach tightens, thighs pressed down around his face as he shifts to fucking you with his tongue before just laying it flat, making you work your way to the high that’s so close you can feel it in your fingers as you clench them into fists. You can tell jungkook wants you to use him, that he’s going to let you cum, that he wants to mark you as his if the way his fingers grip your skin is any indication, and you take everything he’s willing to hand you, thighs shaking from the effort of moving them on his face.
every time you shift forward, his nose prods at your clit, proving to be just the perfect amount of pleasure coupled with the roughness of his tongue that you’re riding as well. the room feels unbearably hot, you can’t hear anything past your heavy panting and wanton groans and the ringing in your ears. the pressure comes to a peak when he pulls you off of his face slightly, flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue — your high washes all over your body, ending in your toes as you curl them, doing whatever you can to somehow savor the pleasure but also run from the overwhelming feelings running through your veins.
the orgasm culminates in a gasped out moan of his name, a final tug on his hair and your thighs quivering, only soothed by jungkook’s large, warm hands as they rub up and down the expanse of your skin. He lets you roll off of his face, collapsing onto the sheets before finding his own way up, and although you’ve exhausted yourself, the way he looks is enough to make you want to go again. His hair is a mess, eyes blown out, face covered in the same pink blush from earlier, the entire lower half of it drenched in your wetness.
He leans down over you, just slightly out of breath, shooting you a quick smile before capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. His hands continue to soothe your shaking thighs even as he pulls away, eyes raking over your spent body. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to come up with a silly joke — anything to make you laugh.
“I think I hurt you more than you hurt me,” is what jungkook lands on, and it’s enough to get a smile out of you as you lift your arms to hook around his neck, pulling him closer into your body once more.
