SUMMARY. After a brutal breakup, you pack up your entire life into your Honda Civic and drive 24 hours to a new life, away from the liars and dirty cheaters of New York City. Fortunately for you, there’s a new man on the terrain, and he adores you from the bottom of his boots to the top of his hat.
word count. 13k
warnings/genre. cowboy!jungkook, corporate!reader, strangers to lovers??, this is based in texas, usa which earns its own warning, alcohol consumption, smut, fingering, car sex, you ride him while wearing his cowboy hat
note. howdy yall! yeehaw brethren! or whatever they say out there in bumblefuck texas 🙊 cowboy jungkook is near and dear to my heart after he put on a bandana and a cowboy hat … he’s literally just a walking wet dream. this is just the plot of a porno so enjoy sluts! (inspired by this tiktok so pls go watch)
ok final final thing: tysm for 9k i still cant believe it!!!!!!! i love all you horndogs sm here's to love here's to honor if you can't cum in her, cum on her
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| playlist
banner creds | masterlist
At some point in life, everyone must find themselves alone in a run-down bar in the middle of Texas, drinking whiskey and wearing a blazer.
Or, well... maybe that's just rock bottom for you specifically.
You don’t even fucking like whiskey. You’re not a masochist. But after the day you’ve had, self-inflicted suffering feels like the least you deserve.
You set the glass down and take a look around the bar.
The place is called Coyote’s—it’s the first place you stumbled upon on your drive home from work. There's a coyote skull mounted above the door, walls wood-paneled and covered in neon beer signs and old license plates. The floor is sticky with mysterious liquids, heels glued to them when you walked in. Somebody’s boots are keeping time to the Zac Brown Band song bleeding out of the speakers, and two men in actual, non-ironic Wranglers are playing pool in the back while eyeing the girls in skimpy outfits.
It’s a disorienting environment, especially when you’re still dressed in a blazer and slacks after your first day at your new job.
You had upped sticks in need of a change from New York City, without bothering to think much about the vast differences between Austin, Texas and New York City.
New York City bars had exposed brick and cocktail menus with names like “Forbidden Muse” and men who wore blazers for their fancy, high-paying finance jobs. Nobody dared to wear cowboy boots, definitely not when they were surrounded by their stuffy superiors.
New York City was crawling with men that were exactly like your conniving, narcissistic ex-boyfriend, Daniel.
Fucking Daniel.
You take another sip of the whiskey you don’t like.
You’d caught him on a Wednesday. Not even a Friday night—a Wednesday. He couldn’t even be bothered to cheat on you on a respectable day of the week. You had come home early from work, key in the door, bag on your shoulder, and there he was in your shared apartment. Balls deep in a girl who was, insultingly, very pretty.
Then, he had the nerve to act surprised to see you in the apartment you two shared.
Texas was never supposed to be in the cards. In fact, it wasn’t even a blip on your radar. It was a job offer that paid two times what you made in New York, but giving up your city lifestyle had sounded deranged. You only applied because a very eager recruiter reached out to you and begged you to.
But getting cheated on really put things into perspective for you, and before you knew it, being a marketing director at a regional firm in Austin that paid good money, offered a fresh start, far enough away that you wouldn’t have to see Daniel’s face sounded ideal. You’d accepted it at 11PM that same Wednesday, half a bottle of wine deep.
You look down at your outfit again. Silk blouse underneath your blazer, tailored slacks and pointed heels. Nothing like the girls line-dancing by the jukebox, batting their eyelashes flirtatiously at the men with cowboy hats on.
Honestly, you didn’t think cowboys were real up until you landed in Texas three days ago. Lo and behold, they’ve managed to outdo your wildest fantasies.
Clearly, you’ll need to redo your wardrobe if you plan on enjoying your new gig. Your boss wore a bandana around his neck in the office, and if that was the norm, you were either severely underdressed or accidentally cosplaying as someone’s accountant.
You take another slow scan around the room, mostly to give yourself something to do that isn’t drinking whiskey you hate and thinking about Daniel.
The women here seem to move differently. Easy and dallying, hips finding the beat of the music. A line of them near the dance floor step and turn in unison, boots striking the wood, and there’s something hypnotic about it—they laugh without covering their mouths, take up space without apologizing for it. Not for the first time tonight, you feel like you’re watching a nature documentary from behind glass. The men in Texas are far more shameless, with no pretense of disinterest. A guy in a tan Stetson tips his hat when a brunette catches him staring. She grins back, winking.
Your gaze drifts toward the back, toward the crack of pool balls and low laughter. Groups of men pile around the table, clearly big-dicking each other. They all look similar. Tall, muscular, chiseled, charismatic…
Your eyes land on the far right of the pool table, where one man in a black cowboy hat stands. His arm is covered in tattoos, hair poking out underneath the hat in what you assume is a mullet. His tongue pokes out, toying with the lip rings adorning his bottom lip.
And despite the commotion buzzing around the bar, or the game of pool that’s been ongoing for at least an hour, he’s not paying attention to any of it. He’s watching you.
Your neck snaps back toward the direction of the bar, struggling to focus as the bartender, Stacey, pours bourbon into a glass for a patron. You’d barely gotten a full look, but you’d caught enough, you think. Broad shoulders filling out a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black cowboy hat pulled low and a black bandana tied loose at his throat.
Fuck. You need another drink. Or about two shots of straight whiskey to handle the kind of eye contact that man is making with you.
“Uh, Stacey?” You’d only learned her name an hour ago, but now’s as good a time as any to use it. She whips to face you, blond hair tousled from the rush. “Am I able to get another glass of whiskey?”
“Sure thang, sweetheart.” She grins.
While she pours, your eyes make a point to not care about the man staring you down across the room. He can’t possibly be looking at you, what with your corporate outfit, heels, and resting bitch face. There are better options in this bar, ones who know how to two-step and ride a horse.
Stacey places the glass of whiskey in front of you. “This one’s on the house. Looked like you needed it.”
Before you can protest, she tosses you a wink and saunters off to serve two men. Clearly, you’re not as unreadable as you thought you were.
The brown liquid slithers down your throat, burning your lungs. The thing about drinking whiskey neat is that you’re not going to remain a respectful amount of tipsy for long. Instead, you’re going to teeter on the line of drunk, something you don’t normally allow yourself to get.
And transparently, drunk you wants another look at the dark-haired cowboy.
Maybe you should let her. Maybe you should stop being so weird about it. It’s not like you’re not going to marry the man. Maybe you just need to get fucked.
Your eyes scan the crowd, lingering on every man wearing the same black bandana, half-convinced one of them might transform into him. With each passing moment, your heart skips in your chest like a toddler playing hopscotch.
Maybe he went home. Probably realized the women here were duds and made his grand exit. Honestly for the best. You can’t even remember the last time you flirted with someone who wasn’t Daniel, and look how spectacularly that turned out.
You down the rest of your whiskey in one go. Stacey whistles playfully from the sidelines. All you can manage is a feeble smile in response. It feels as though the lights dim a little lower, the sound of boots hitting the hardwood floor echoing in your ear. Euphoria pumps through your bloodstream, and then Country Girl (Shake It For Me) starts blasting on the jukebox, and well—your brain just sort of short-circuits.
“Can’t possibly be comfortable in that outfit, sugar.”
Warm breath fans against your ear, woodsy cologne trailing close behind. Your heart thumps, almost as if the organ knows who it is before you do.
Slowly, you turn to face the owner of the voice.
The first thing you see is a black bandana. Your eyes travel further up, up, up, until they snag on the plumpest mouth you’ve ever seen on a man, two metal rings looped through the bottom lip. They continue their climb, landing on captivating eyes that sink their teeth into you. Dark brown tresses poke out from under the brim of his hat, but you can still make out every inch of his sharp features.
“Never seen you ‘round here before.” He raises an eyebrow. “Anyone with that outfit on gotta be from the East. Ain’t seen a girl in heels in this bar in my whole life.”
“Maybe I like standing out,” you say, tilting your chin up and puffing your chest out. The whiskey’s doing wonders for your nerve. “Someone’s got to remind you boys what real shoes look like.”
The edges of his mouth curve upwards, pondering if he’s impressed or amused by your bite. Secretly, you hope it’s both.
“Sugar, those things are a workplace hazard. You’re tellin’ me you can run in ‘em?” Under the dim lights, his eyes twinkle, setting your chest ablaze with something other than the burn of whiskey.
“I don’t need to run anywhere. I’m a New Yorker. We walk at a fast pace in 7-inch heels.” You’re not well-versed in the whole flirting thing, but this has to be what it’s like… right?
That gets a real laugh out of him, head tipping back, and you feel an absurd little spike of pride at having caused that sound.
“That so?” He moves from behind you, leans an elbow against the bar, angling his body toward you. He travels in languid movements, like he’s got nowhere else on earth to be. “And here I thought you Yankees just had bad manners and worse weather.”
“We’re not rude,” you scoff. “We’re blunt. Honest. There’s a difference.”
He takes a step closer, and the scent of him encroaches, your brain turning fuzzy. “Mm. Didn’t realize those were the same thing.”
“Cousins. Close enough.” You shouldn’t have downed that drink. Now you really need another, because you’re certain you won’t make it out of this conversation in one piece.
“Then let me ask you somethin’, since you’re so honest.” His eyes flicker to your parted lips before jumping back to your eyes.
“Go ahead.”
The music comes to a halt, and Carrie Underwood’s voice blasts through the speakers. You’ve never really liked her music all that much, but her misplaced pep talk might be exactly the kind of bad influence you need.
His head tilts in your direction. “You ever met a Southern boy before me?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“So you must not have heard ‘bout Southern charm, sugar. That’s supposed to be our whole thing down here.” His eyes dare you, jaw twitching with glee at the way you press your thighs together.
“I’ve heard that.” Carelessly, you shrug. “Haven’t seen much evidence of it yet.”
“Keep talkin’ like that and I might have to prove it to you,” he says, voice only a little mocking.
Your body can’t help but lean in his direction, like sunflowers facing the light on a warm summer’s day. “I’d like to see you try, cowboy.”
“Mm.” The man hums, studies you for another moment. Then, he straightens and reaches for the brim of his hat. “Well. Where are my manners?”
He pulls the hat off his head, revealing disheveled chestnut hair that’s longer than you anticipated. You want to run your hands through it, know what it feels like to tug on the locks. The gesture is almost comically formal against the backdrop of the bar, but on him, it doesn’t look like a joke at all. He reaches for your hand. His palm is warm, calloused, swallowing yours whole. “Jungkook.” His eyes don’t dare leave your face. “And who do I got the pleasure of speakin’ to?”
A shuddering breath escapes you, legs clenching.
“[Y/N],” you stumble over your words, trying to find your voice.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl. Must be my lucky night,” he grins, and you have to wonder if he says that to every girl who isn’t from here. You stick out like a sore thumb in this bar, but how his eyes track your every movement suggests he doesn’t mind one bit.
“What’re you drinkin’, sugar?” he asks, nodding toward your empty glass. Oh. That. You had almost forgotten it was there, lonely and sad.
“Whiskey.”
His eyebrows lift, mouth curving into disbelief. “You sure about that? You don’t seem like a whiskey girl to me.”
He’s right, which only makes it worse. Turning to the bar, he lifts two fingers. “Stace. You mind makin’ one of those strawberry margaritas for our city girl here?”
Stacey’s already grinning cheek-to-cheek before she even gets close, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Absolutely.”
While Stacey works, you take the opportunity to look at him properly without the panic of being caught. He’s tall, like most cowboys that are written in romance novels. His chest looks like it could double as a wall. A very nice wall you wouldn’t mind being pressed against.
Stacey slides the margarita across the bar, sugar-rimmed and flamingo pink. “Here you go, hon.”
“Add it to my tab,” Jungkook says, not bothering to glance over.
“Of course, Kook.” She tosses you another friendly wink, and the swell of confidence bubbles up inside you.
He nudges the glass another inch toward you with two fingers. It’s a little dominant, something you’re not normally used to. But you follow the order, taking a sip. It’s exactly what you wanted. Cold, candied, the tequila barely whispering under the sugar, and you have to stop yourself from outright moaning at the bar.
“So why you out here, sugar?” he asks, “Don’t seem like a bar for a girl like you.” Jungkook places his hat atop his head again, and you’re almost devastated to see his hair go.
You set the glass down, lick a stray grain of sugar off your bottom lip. His eyes stalk the movement. “I live here now. I work downtown.”
His gaze doesn’t move from your mouth fast enough. “Like a corporate job?”
“Indeed.” As you speak, you notice his pupils are blown so wide there’s hardly any brown left. He hasn’t moved his eyes from your lips. “And I’m assuming you ride horses?”
He barks out a laugh, loud enough that a couple heads turn near the pool table. “A little more than that.” His finger points off toward the back of the bar, toward a broad-shouldered man laughing with the group by the pool table. “That’s Namjoon. Owns a ranch a few miles out. I handle his shit. Y’know, paperwork, horses, bulls, all of it.”
“So you’re a rancher.” You toy with the straw in your glass, and you can’t miss the way he seems entranced by every move you make.
“I’m a lotta things.” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “Rancher’s one of ‘em.”
“What are the others?”
There’s something lingering in the air. New city, new boy, new life. You’re back to square one, the bottom of the societal food chain. You get to forge your own path here in Austin. For one night—and maybe other nights—you get to be someone else.
“Depends who’s askin’.”
“I am,” you retort coolly.
“Then I guess you’ll find out,” he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear “Eventually.”
The bar noise fades around you, Carrie Underwood’s righteous fury bleeding into another tune, until it’s just the two of you and a few inches of space neither of you seem all that interested in closing yet. “Hmm,” you hum. “Horses and bulls sound dangerous.”
He chuckles. “Knowin’ how to handle somethin’ wild is mostly about knowin’ when to be gentle and when not to be.”
“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?”
“Could be." He shrugs. “But also, I just really like my job, sugar.”
“As do I,” You take another sip, making a point to pucker your lips around the straw.
Jungkook’s gaze is different, far more scandalous than any other man you’ve been with. It almost feels dirty when his eyes scan your face. “Figured someone like you’d be home by now. What is this, your first night out since you got here?”
It is, in fact, your first night out since you got here, and you’d rather die than confirm it.
“I wanted to immerse myself in the culture,” you say instead, lying through your teeth with admirable conviction. “It’s one of my greatest fantasies, actually. Cowgirls, horses, the whole lot of ’em.”
“Oh really?” he smirks. You’re distracted by the strand of hair flopping from beneath his hat, and you wonder if the curtain matches the drapes. “How ‘bout cowboys?”
“I’m still gathering data on them.” You tap the rim of your glass thoughtfully. “Field research, if you will.”
His knee brushes against yours as he leans in. The man has never heard of personal space. “I would love to hear your findings.”
“Well, actually, I think I need to run a few final experiments.”
“Like what?” He tuts, fingers migrating from the bartop to your pant-covered thigh. They linger, not pressing down harshly. “Humor me, sugar.”
A burst of confidence rushes through you. You get one chance, and you really, really, really don’t want to make the same mistakes again. Reaching up, you pluck the hat right off his head.
It’s heavier than you expect, but soft in your grasp. Warm, like it’s been sitting against him long enough to steal some of his body heat for itself. You settle it on your own head, tipping it back so it doesn’t slide down over your eyes. You must look ridiculous, blazer and silk blouse under a cowboy hat that’s seen ranch work.
But how he’s looking at you, you might as well be wearing nothing at all.
Jungkook’s jaw goes taut, gaze darkens, and the fingers placed on your thigh flex before relaxing.
“Well, sugar.” His voice drops several octaves, and the whole bar spins on its axis until you nearly topple over. “If you’re gonna wear my hat, you know what they say?”
Your response is no louder than a whisper. “What?”
Smirking, he leans in until his breath ghosts your ear.
“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”
Oh god.
Your eyes flicker down to his lips, then his captivating eyes, and he follows suit. If he really wanted to, he could probably kiss you right now, could take you right on the bartop and you’d let him. The sugar from the margarita and the whiskey swirls in your stomach, mixing with butterflies you haven’t felt in years. There are moles scattered across his face, a few near his lip and some under his cheek, and you think that you could connect them into a constellation if you had a pen and several more drinks.
But then he steps back, and tips two fingers toward the brim of the hat that’s no longer on his head.
“I’ll see you ‘round, sugar.”
He strolls off toward his friends, and you blink into the void, hat heftier on your head than when you first put it on.
God help you, you really want that ride.
Frankly, this is the most desperate thing you’ve ever done.
That’s really saying something, considering one time, you sprinted after a situationship four blocks down Fifth Avenue in four inch heels, caught your foot on a crack in the sidewalk, and introduced your face to the concrete in front of a hot dog stand. Or, there’s also the time you showed up to a first date a week early, realized halfway through appetizers that something felt off, checked your phone, and had to sit alone with a bread basket before leaving.
All of that pales in comparison when you realize you’re sitting at the same bar, in your corporate outfit, awaiting a man who you may never lay eyes on again.
You take a nervous sip of your strawberry margarita, the periphery of your eyes doing more work than usual. Coyote’s is quieter tonight, a few stragglers nursing drinks at tables, and playing something slow on the jukebox. No pool game in the back, no men in cowboy hats, no broad shoulders filling out a black button-down.
You’ve probably made a colossal mistake.
“Need a refill on the marg?” Stacey circles back after tending to some older men at the end of the bar, brows raised.
“Nah, I’m okay,” you sigh. “Thanks though.”
Slowly, Stacey looks around the bar, stares at the drunk men at the end of the bar, and decides you’re more worth her time. She places both elbows on the bartop and leans in. “You lookin’ for someone special, hon?”
“No!” you yelp, practically leaping out of your stool in dissent. “Absolutely not. I just—don’t even know anyone here. I just like the margaritas.”
“Uhu,” Stacey nods, something in her eyes twinkling.
“I really do. You make a mean marg.”
“Sure you do,” she toothily grins. Her eyes pan over your outfit, a similar vibe to the one you wore yesterday to work. Today, you’re wearing a silk blouse and a pencil skirt that jugs your curves. “You know, most people take their work clothes off before they come out for a drink.”
“Well, I came straight from the office.” You square your shoulders, puff out your chest as though you have something to prove.
“Two nights in a row?”
“I’m testing out the bars in the city,” you quip.
“Mhm.” She doesn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth, and she’s not even trying to hide it. “What is it you do, exactly?”
“Marketing director. I just started.” You take a sip of your cocktail to bide time as Stacey widens her eyes in shock.
“No kidding.” Her eyebrows lift. “What brought you all the way out to Austin? You don’t exactly scream Texas, no offense.”
“None taken,” you giggle. You’re not entirely sure how your silk blouse and skirt could come off as anything but condescending, uppity New Yorker. “Believe it or not, an ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants.”
Stacey’s pupils blow up, and she throws her head back to cackle, loud enough that one of the older men down the bar glances over. “Oh, honey,” she says, reaching for the cocktail shaker without seeming to realize she’s doing it. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”
“Well,” you swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but your near-empty glass, “My boyfriend of three years was always upset I was busy at work. He said I cared too much about it, but not about him. I thought I was doing a good job at dividing my time equally… but I guess not. Found him in bed with a girl on a Wednesday night in our apartment we shared.”
Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. Retelling the story allows you to replay the night like a horror movie film outtake reel. And everytime, you ask yourself, how could you be so stupid? So naive? So nonchalant?
Stacey slides a fresh margarita across the bar. “Please tell me you at least threw something.”
“Nope. Just stood in the doorway, said his name, turned around and left.” Even now, it’s as clear as day; you marched out, heart drumming in your chest as you fled down the stairs of your building, not even bothering to listen if he even said your name or chased after you. It didn’t matter either way, because he never once tried to beg for you back.
He let you go.
“Men,” Stacey snorts, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t know a good thing if it slapped them ‘round the head.”
“Men,” you agree.
Sometimes, you can’t help but blame yourself, and wonder if it’s less about men, and more about your inability to care about anything but your career growth.
“You know what your problem is?” she says, pointing at you. "You’ve been datin' the wrong kind of man. All that New York finance guy, blazer-wearing, artisanal-coffee-drinking bullshit. What you need is a little Southern charm.”
“Oh really?” You have to hide the smile that threatens to bloom on your face.
“I’m just sayin’ what the people are thinkin’.”
“No one, especially me, is thinking that.” Except you are. More precisely, of one that loaned you his hat and never claimed it back.
“It’s what I’m thinking," she says, wiping down the bar. "You ever even dated someone who works with their hands? Outdoors?”
You open your mouth to argue and realize you don't have a rebuttal for that. Every man you’ve ever dated has had some stuffy job, like finance or law, which is somehow the most depressing thing that’s popped into your head all week.
“I just need to get back on my feet,” you say instead. “New city, new job, new start. I’m not looking for anything.”
“Sure, sure.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll pretend I believe ya.”
You slump forward on the bar. “I just need to focus on myself for a while. Get settled. Figure out what I actually want without someone else’s opinion clouding everything.”
“Healthy, but you’re no fun,” she pouts, flinging the rag over her shoulder. “Look hun, your ex sounds like a real piece of shit. But you deserve way better than that.”
“Yeah,” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “I’m starting to think so too.”
Stacey wipes her hands on the towel over her shoulder, turning back to you. “A fresh start in Austin, Texas. You picked a hell of a place for it.”
“Yeah…” Your eyes avert around the shoddy bar. You try not to make eye contact with the coyote head. “It’s a lot.”
“You’ll love it. Give it a month.”
“You think?”
“Ella Langley didn’t write Choosin’ Texas ‘bout us just for shits n giggles,” she chuckles. “People come here thinking it’s temporary and then they wake up one day and they’ve got boots and a favorite two-step song.”
A shiver runs down your spine. “Good god.”
“That’s just Texas, hon.”
You laugh, and she looks awfully pleased with herself. The two men down the bar gesture her over, and her eyes flick over your shoulder before a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“Southern charm might be closer than you think,” she murmurs, and then saunters off to her customers.
Shaking your head, you take a sip of the margarita, and you swear it’s stronger than your last. Stacey clearly plans on fucking you over.
“Didn’t think lightning struck the same place twice. Guess I was wrong, sugar.”
The hair on the back of your neck stands tall. Anxiety and desire blend in your stomach until the two become indecipherable.
The sip of your margarita stalls its path down your throat, making a home, and an embarrassing croak exits your mouth. Your eyes water, one hand firmly placed on the bar, looking like one of those warning ads for choking customers.
A strong hand lands between your shoulder blades. Pats once, twice, with an ease that makes your heart rate kick up a notch.
“Easy there. Bar’s not the place to go out.” You can hear the sarcasm in his tone, the smirk that’s probably curled upon his pink lips.
“I’m fine,” you wheeze.
“Uhu.” He takes the stools beside you, coming into plain view. You;re not sure what you expected him to look like this evening, but somehow, he looks even more delectable than last time. He’s sporting a new cowboy hat, a black one with white detailing that matches his jeans and top. Once he settles, he signals to Stacey for a drink with two fingers. “Surprised this place didn’t scare ya away after the first time.”
You square your shoulders, wiping the final tears from your eyes. “New Yorkers are resilient.”
“Hmm,” he mindlessly hums, letting his eyes drag up and down your figure, a clear assessment that has your thighs clenching to hide the arousal pooling in your panties. “Nice to see you again, by the way.”
There’s a smudge of something on his forearm, below the edge of his tattoos. Dirt, maybe, or grease. You wonder if he came straight from work, or errands, or whatever it is Jungkook does with his day besides looking like a wet dream.
“Is corporate attire all you own, sugar?” He tosses bills on the table as Stacey slides a cold beer toward him. You do your best to ignore her pointed smirk.
“Are boots and hats all you wear?” you retort.
He laughs and leans an elbow on the bar, angling toward you the same way he had last time, almost as if his body naturally points in your direction. As you gaze into his brown irises, you can’t stop thinking, can’t slow the waterfall of thoughts gliding down your brain. You’re not from here, don’t dress like anyone in this bar, don’t know the words to a single song on that jukebox, and can’t two-step to save your life. There are women in this city right now who are objectively better suited for him. Your brain implodes trying to understand his interest in you.
“Can I ask you something?” you say.
“Go ‘head.” He takes a swig of his beer, lips shiny from the liquid.
“Why are you over here?”
He deadpans. “Come again?”
“I mean…” Vaguely, you gesture around the room, at the bar that’s filling up with women laughing near the jukebox. “You could be anywhere in this bar right now. Talking to anyone. So why are you sitting here talking to me?”
A flash of expressions shift across his face. “You think you’re not worth talking to?”
“Never said that.”
“Implied it,” he grins. He pauses, traces the condensation on his beer bottle. “Maybe I’m intrigued.”
A feeble laugh escapes you, but he doesn’t mirror the action. Oh. He’s not joking. “For the record, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re real terrible. Don’t know why I bother.”
“I am serious. I have no plans on learning either.”
He holds your gaze for a moment. “Never asked you to get on one, sugar.” His eyes rake over your face as if he’s searching for more, and finally, he pushes on, voice steady. “I’m over here because I wanted to be. That a problem?”
It’s an offer as much as it is an out. If you told him it was a problem, you’re certain he’d leave you alone, never talk to you again. But you really, really don’t want that.
“Not at all.”
Jungkook nods in finality and takes a pull of his bar. Silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable.
“Can I ask you something now?” he says.
“Fair’s fair.”
“You don’t got someone back in New York, right?”
“No,” you sigh. “Not anymore, at least.”
His eyebrows scrunch together. “He let you go?”
“Kind of.” You don’t really feel like elaborating, and he lets it go, but you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches, there and gone in a breath.
“His loss.”
“What about you?” you wonder. “You’ve got to have someone, or something.”
“Ain’t got a girl,” he shrugs. His body slants toward you so that your knees brush. Your cheeks warm at the contact, but he doesn’t move away.
“No?” Your margarita is watered down and vile now, but you take a sip anyway.
“Ranch takes up most of my time. Sun up to sundown, most days. Not a lot of room left over for much else.”
“Doesn’t that get lonely?” you ask.
He considers it, tilts the neck of his beer bottle between two fingers. “Sometimes… but it’s a good life. I don’t need a lot. Just the ranch and the right company, every now and then.”
His pupils are blown so wide you can’t spot any brown in them. He’s staring at your parted lips. “I could probably settle for the right girl. A good girl. Smart, funny, prettiest in the damn room.”
You think he’s talking about you. He must be. It might be wishful thinking, but just maybe, just this time…
“That’s a very specific type,” you retort.
“Gettin’ more specific by the minute.” With that, he takes a swig of his beer, eyes never leaving yours.
You pick up your own drink, taking a long sip that burns your esophagus. “Stacey made this too strong,” you awkwardly laugh. It feels like someone turned the temperature up on the thermostat by ten degrees, shut all the fans off.
“Stace always does,” Jungkook shrugs.
When he sets his beer down, you can calculate how little space exists between his stool and you. Mere centimeters divide the two of you, and you can soak up his scent, a woodsy musk. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to show you the ranch sometime. Horses get real excited around pretty girls. Scout’s honor.” He holds up two fingers.
“You were a boy scout?” you laugh.
“Three weeks in the 4th grade. Got kicked out for letting the ponies loose at the state fair though,” he shrugs. “In my defense, they looked very unhappy.”
He watches, mystified, as you laugh again. “I don’t know if the ranch is for me.”
“It’s just horse, open land, some fresh air. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’d imagine.”
“Exactly,” you knowingly smile. “All we have is smog, overpriced coffee, and tall buildings.”
“Can’t have that.” Disapprovingly, he shakes his head. “Come out to the ranch. I’ll make you coffee that costs nothing and tastes better than anything you’ve had in your life.”
“Bold claim, cowboy,” you tease.
“Think you can tell I always get what I want, sugar,” he retorts. You open your mouth to reply with something witty, but a tingle, pins and needles, lands on your thigh, and when you look down you see Jungkook’s veiny hand resting. Fingers splayed wide, palm radiating heat through the thin fabric of your slacks.
“How many horses do you have on the ranch?” Your voice has gone airy.
“Seven right about now. We lost one last spring, and Joon took it hard.” His hand doesn’t waver. Instead, his thumb moves, carelessly tracing patterns on your pants.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumble, staring daggers into how large his hand is compared to the rest of you.
“It’s the nature of it. You get attached. Hard not to.”
“Do you…?” you pause, swallow thickly until your tone gets warbly. “Get attached?”
The double entendre isn’t lost on him. “I do.”
You are going to need Stacey to pour a glass of ice water directly over your head. His thumb traces another path up the inside of your thigh. Your mouth dries up like the Sahara desert in late August.
You want to be someone who leans into this. Want to be the girl from night one, the one with liquid courage and reckless new-city energy. You want to tilt toward him and let whatever this is become whatever it wants to be. But underneath it, a quieter voice resides within you.
The one that remembers thinking everything was fine right up until it wasn’t.
“I don’t know if I’m..” you start, then press your lips together. He taps your thigh twice, urging you on. “I’m not sure I’m ready to be attached yet.”
Automatically, your body is bracing for impact, like he’ll toss you on the side of the road for something shiner, something ready.
But Jungook’s expression does not falter. He finishes the last of his beer and sets the bottle down, rising from the stool to his full height. “When you’re ready, sugar,” he reaches out, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you know where to find me.”
For most, life isn’t sunshine and rainbows.
And it’s not like one wakes up and the color has drained from everything overnight. It’s small increments, tiny ones, that add up, and they’re unrecognizable until you can’t remember the last time you did something for yourself. You used to believe in love the way meteorologists believed in weather—inevitable acts of nature that happened to everyone sooner than later, in its own time, in its own particular way. You believed that people who found each other meant to find each other.
But just like weather, the clouds part and things unravel in messy ways. The couple in your freshman dorm who were so in love you deemed it aggressive, who broke up over Thanksgiving and couldn’t look at each other in the dining hall after. Your college roommate, whose boyfriend of four years sat her down on a Sunday morning and said I just don't think I’m in love with you anymore. She sat very still for a long time after she told you, and you thought I will never let that be me.
But then it was you, it was your own demented heart, it was your own boyfriend who cheated on you, and you suddenly didn’t know which ordinary Tuesday was the last good one.
You still don’t know if there was a last good one at all.
“You gonna liquidate my bar tonight, hon?”
Stacey’s shrill voice cuts through your train of thought, and you blink back into the bar. The neon sign flickers above the bar, and the usual horny men sitting down the bar tip their hats at you. A shudder of disgust travels through you. She’s leaning on the bar in front of you, brow arched, nodding at the margarita you’ve been nursing for the better part of an hour, contemplating the nuances of life.
“Perhaps.”
She refills your water glass without asking and props her chin in her hand. “You know damn well not to do all that thinkin’ round my bar. Tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, playing with the straw wrapper. You slump against the bar, the fatigue of your mind raving catching up to you.
“I ain’t Sherlock but I can tell something’s up, sweetie.”
You could deny it one more time, but you think Stacey will dropkick you out of the bar and leave you without any more alcoholic beverages.
For a week, you’ve avoided this very bar. Thus, you haven’t run into Jungkook in a week. It was on purpose, simply because you couldn’t give him the hope that you were ready by running into him again. But bars that you felt comfortable being alone at were far and few between, and you knew Stacey would be waiting for you.
It’s been seven days of you daydreaming of walking into this bar and scanning the back corner by the pool table before you’ve even found a stool, of telling yourself you’re not looking while very obviously looking, and telling him you’re ready for whatever he wants to offer. And at the very least, give it a shot.
One week feels longer than it should for a man you’ve spoken to twice. You don’t know his middle name. You don't know his family lore or his favorite pair of boots or whether he’s ever read a book for pleasure or what he sounds like when he’s just had a bad day.
But you do know one thing: he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, like he was ready to lean over the bar and devour you whole.
No one’s looked at you like that in a long time.
“Fine,” Stacey squints her eyes into evil little slits. “If you won’t talk I will. You’ve looked at that door eleven times since you sat down, and I’ve got a fresh margarita with your name on it, and sometimes thinkin’ about nothing looks a whole lot like thinkin’ about something… or someone.”
A massive gulp of your margarita slithers down your throat. Then another, and another, until you set it down and peer at Stacey with drunk goggles. Her jaw is set in a no-nonsense way, and you recognize how she’s only ever seen you at your most pathetic across this bartop.
What’s one more time to add to the tally?
“Am I stupid for not hooking up with Jungkook?”
Stacey’s face remains stone cold. She reaches for the tequila. It’s not your usual brand, a more expensive one you haven’t touched since New York.
“The thing is, I wanted to.” Stacey should really file a restraining order against you for sharing your deepest, darkest thoughts with her under the influence of one very strong margarita. “I really wanted to. He’s very attractive. And he’s not how I expected him to be, like a bimbo cowboy.”
Stacey says nothing. Continues making the margarita, pouring strawberry puree into the shaker.
“And it’s not even, it’s not like I’m opposed to it. I am a grown woman. I know how sex works. I’ve had one night stands before, and they’ve generally been fine, sometimes better than fine, and Jungkook looks like he would be better than fine, which is part of the problem too.”
Her hair flips wildly as she mixes the shaker behind her shoulder. You barrel on, “I don't know if I’m actually not ready or if I’m just scared, and I don’t know how to tell the difference anymore between self-preservation and self-sabotage. Daniel made me feel like an idiot.”
You prop your chin in your palm. “Was it my body? My personality? Was it the way I talked too much at dinner parties or the fact that I can’t fall asleep without the TV on or just, like, was I boring? Was I just boring to him? Am I even hot?”
A glass filled with pink liquid slams in front of you, dropping with a decisive thunk, sugar on the rim.
“Drink.”
Your nose scrunches up in disgust as the smell of tequila wafts into your nostrils. Stacey rolls her eyes, smacking your arm playfully, and you fold under zero pressure.
“Sweetheart, even in that god-awful collared shirt, I can see you’ve got a hell of a body on you. I would throw you down on that pool table and find out for myself if I swung that way,” she nonchalantly shrugs, and it takes all your might not to spit out your drink.
“Stacey,” you scold.
“Nuh-uh,” she tuts, “You’re stunning, darlin’. You are not the problem. You were never the problem. The problem is a man who ain’t know what he had and traded it in for a girl who’s probably not even half of you. That’s his cross to bear, not yours.”
When you sip the margarita, the tart taste of strawberries floods your tastebuds. Stacey has ruined every margarita you will ever have anywhere else for the rest of your natural life.
She raises an eyebrow. “What are you scared of with Jungkook, specifically? Ol’ Kook has been around the block, but he ain’t dangerous.”
“Well… I’m more scared that it’ll be good.”
It even sounds ridiculous leaving your mouth. You know it’s idiotic to place all of your emotional baggage on a cowboy who wants to fuck you.
“I’m scared it’ll be good. That he’ll be… that it’ll be good, and I’ll want more of it, and wanting more of it means having something to lose again, and I just,” you stifle a humorless laugh. “I just got here. I just put my furniture in an apartment I’ve never lived in, in a city I don’t know yet, in a state I didn’t grow up in.”
Stacey purses her lips in the way your mom usually does when you know you’re being irrational. “I’ve worked at this bar for nine years. I’ve watched a lot of people sit on that stool and talk themselves out of things, and not one of them has ever come back and said I’m so glad I stayed scared.”
“Whatever.” You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over this. He probably doesn’t even think about me. Probably just another girl on his list to bother when he’s drunk.”
Stacey deadpans, expression souring. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” Although, after two of her strong margaritas, you might be.
Her dish rag comes flying across the bartop, smacking you straight in the arm, leaving a vibrating pain in your arm. “Ouch!---”
She flings it again, leaving another welt on your skin. “Stacey, what the fuck—”
One more on the other arm to even the score out. “Alright, enough with the smacking, I’m a customer—”
“You’re my charity case and you’ll take what you can get.” She tucks the rag back into her apron. “That man has come into this bar every single night for the past week lookin’ for you, only to take one look around, find me instead, and leave lookin’ like somebody canceled Christmas. I’m insulted.”
Before you can even roll your eyes, the rag comes flying out of her pocket once more, aimed at your arm.
“I said enough—”
“Then don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“I didn’t even—”
“Kook doesn’t care about girls,” Stacey continues. “Never has. He’s got his ranch and his boys and that’s the full extent of his social calendar. He doesn’t go out of his way to chase people.”
Then, as almost an afterthought, she adds, “I ain’t never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you in those little work outfits.”
Under wishful thinking and margarita-induced delusion, you have been trying to ignore the truth of her words. Even as you think about that first night when you met him, you remember it as the most natural thing in the world. Neither of you seemed to be searching for anything other than a drink in the bar. But of all the connections people make in this world, you two stumbled upon each other.
Jungkook could’ve kissed you that night, you think. You probably would’ve let him. But then he let you have the out, left you sitting there with his hat on your head, the hat that sits on your windowsill now as a reminder of your almost.
Stacey’s expression resembles compassion, eyes softening as she watches the gears turn in your head. “Can I tell you something without you waving your hand at me again?”
“Probably not, but go ahead.”
“He did ask me about you the other day,” she says. “Asked if I’d seen you and if you were doing alright. Last night, you two just missed each other. He sat right where you’re sitting now for twenty minutes nursing one beer before he gave up and left. Kook nurses a beer for nobody.”
“He doesn’t even know me,” you snort, gathering the condensation of your watered-down drink.
“He knows what kind of drink you like. For some men, that’s further along than most.”
And that’s a lot more than you plan on giving to anyone else but him.
“Stacey, can I ask you something else?”
“‘Course, darlin’. Anything for you.”
You know what to do. It’s as clear as the sun after a summer storm.
“What do cowgirls wear?”
Oh god.
Oh god.
Who knew cowboy boots were this tight around the calves? The white fabric digs into your skin, leaving imprints you’re sure will never erase. The hem of your ridiculously short denim shorts rise up your ass, practically digging into your thong. Before you left your apartment, you made a promise to yourself—one you’re very close to breaking—that you won’t pull those shorts down.
This get-up can’t possibly be comfortable, but never mind what you think. It’s not about you or your outfit choices tonight.
This was not what you had in mind when you asked Stacey what cowgirls wear. What you had in mind was something tasteful. What Stacey had couriered to your apartment via her cousin Deanna, who runs a boutique off Fifth Street, was a white lace top cropped to somewhere just above your navel, distressed denim shorts, and boots the color of fresh cream that zip up the side and are currently engaged in warfare with your calves and ankles.
You felt like a prize cow up for auction. A very well-dressed prize cow, but one nonetheless.
You swing the door open to Coyote’s. It’s rowdier on a Friday night. The place is packed shoulder to shoulder, girls in outfits like yours and boys in their finest everything, hats and buckles and boots, the jukebox fighting to be heard over the noise of two dozen conversations happening at once. You push your way through the packed space, fighting your way to the bar where Stacey and her counterpart are furiously making drinks.
God, these shorts are really tight up your ass.
Her hair whips around as she tries to tend to five people at once. You don’t dare try to get her attention on a busy night like this. But as if she can sense your presence, she turns around, and the shaker nearly flies out of her hand. “Good god almighty.” Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, then lets out a whistle that anyone can hear above the music. “Atta girl!”
She slaps the counter with one palm, then grabs her colleague by the sleeve without looking at him. “Pete. Pete, turn ‘round.”
The aforementioned man turns around, mimicking Stacey’s expression. “Well. Welcome to Texas, ma’am.”
You smile politely. “Thank you, Pete.”
“Told ya,” Stacey squeals, reaching for the tequila, pointing at you like she’s won first place at an arcade. “Told you. Did I not tell you?”
“You told me.”
“What’d I tell ya?”
Your brows furrow, racking your brain as you try to remember words, which for your sake, were many. “That I had a hell of a body and you’d throw me down on the pool table—”
“No!” she rolls her eyes. “That you’d clean up nice,”
She shoots Pete a look that makes him stop ogling your tits and find the other end of the bar very interesting. She starts on your margarita, and you settle onto your stool and try not to let your eyes do the thing they want to do, which is scan the back corner by the pool table.
Three older men are nursing beers at the far end, next to a couple sharing a basket of fries. A row of women line the jukebox, scanning the room in hopes of finding their cowboy for the night. Somehow, you relate to them now more than ever.
“Ain’t no way a pretty girl like you is all alone tonight.”
A man’s voice appears behind your left shoulder… and it’s completely and utterly the wrong fucking voice. Not the right timbre, or warmth, or scent underneath it that makes you want to lean into it.
Said man sidles up beside you, and you peer up at him. All things considered, he’s not unattractive. Brown hair, good jaw, a Miller Lite in one hand and a handsome smile that’s probably worked on most people. He tips his hat and leans against the bar. “Colin,” he offers.
“Nice to meet you. [Y/N].” You give him your hand to shake, and he does so politely.
“You new ‘round here?” His flirting is more than apparent.
“That obvious?”
“Little bit.” He grins. In a life where you hadn’t spent the last two weeks being dismantled by a man with a lip ring and a ranch, you might have smiled back with intention. “Can I get you a drink?”
“She’s got one.”
Stacey slams the margarita down on the bartop with enough force to make the sugar on the rim jump, and looks at Colin with an implacable expression. “Move it Colin. This one’s Kook’s girl.”
Colin’s hands defensively come up, the universal gesture of a man who knows what hills are and are not worth dying on. “My bad. Have a good night, ma’am.”
“Sorry about her,” you call after his retreat. Colin was perfectly nice and none of this is his fault.
“Don’t you dare apologize to him,” Stacey scolds. “You’ll be fending ‘em off all night with that outfit. I hope you prepared.”
You gaze down at yourself, and a flicker of doubt moves through you. “I don’t look dumb, do I? Be honest. I can handle it.”
“Sweetheart, the only person in this bar who’s gonna think you look dumb is you.”
Of their own accord, your eyes drift around the bar again.
Stacey takes the time to add, “And Jungkook, is definitely not going to think you look dumb.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes for the nth time since you’ve met her.
“Move along,” Stacey says, turning back to her next customer, waving you off with the dish rag, “Go on. I’ve got work to do.”
“I haven’t seen you care about a work since the day I met you—”
“Scram, kid.”
You peel your hand off the bar like a kid being dropped off on the first day of school, a pit of reluctance settling in your stomach.
Almost immediately, the attention begins. A few men tip their hats at you, while another does a double take while aggressively elbowing his friend in the ribs. Someone lets out a low whistle that you feel in your spine, and you nod politely, keep moving.
It’s profoundly strange. Sure, you can recognize you’re a pretty girl. But in New York, you were invisible, which is to say completely unless someone wanted something from you. Here, people look at you like you’re someone they want to be near, no matter what they can get from you. You just wish it was one specific person doing the looking.
Migrating towards the back, you push through clusters of people, squeezing through gaps in the crowd. The women are less forgiving than the men. Some eye your outfit, then look away in disgust.
Eventually, you find a sliver of wall near the back and stand near it, not on it, margarita held tight to your chest. From here, you can see the layout of the bar. The dance floor, the jukebox, bodies packed between you and the exit. Groups of men cluster together like men do at bars.
“Kook! Over here, man!”
Your eyes find the source before your brain catches up. A blonde, fit man weasels through the crowd, waving down the one person you’ve been hoping to see.
There’s no slow motion, no cinematic lighting change, no romantic song swelling up from the jukebox at the precise moment. People around him part without noticing they’re doing it, a gap opening up like the bar itself is making room for Jungkook’s grand entrance.
Your stomach drops through the floor. Butterflies that you want to convince yourself are just anxiety or tequila detonate all at once, wings beating against your ribs so feverishly you press your hand flat to your chest to hold it all in.
This is stupid, you think. This is so stupid. He’s just a man.
He reaches his friend, and you can see him under the dim lights. Jungkook’s in a black jean jacket, wife beater underneath, black hat adorned on top of his head. He’s smiling, saying something, unaware of you pressed against this wall.
Two women near the jukebox drop their voices, heads together as they giggle. A girl in red boots nudges her friend while eyeing him.
Fuck. You hadn’t once stopped to think about all the competition you might have.
You wonder how many girls he’s offered a ride, or to see his ranch.
His eyes move across the bar, and on instinct, your spine straightens. He seems to scan the bar, eyes moving through the crowd. Past the jukebox, the dance floor, past the bar.
And then, after what feels like eons, his eyes land on you.
The noise of the bar goes fuzzy around the edges, heart leaping into your throat as you hold his gaze. His eyes drag down the length of your body, pausing at the sliver of your waist. He continues on, past the shorts and down to the boots that hug your feet. From meters away, you watch his jaw set and gaze darken.
Jungkook tips his hat, and you raise your glass.
Turning to the friend beside him, he whispers something brief into his ear. The friend turns to look at you then swivels back to Jungkook to shove him in your direction.
Electricity lights behind your sternum and radiates outward, down your arms, into your fingertips where they’re wrapped around the cold glass, and you think Carrie Underwood was right. Those damn cowboy casanovas.
He moves through the crowd in your direction, eyes unwavering from yours. His musky, tree-like scent hits you first. Up close, the black jean jacket sits across his broad shoulders. His lips are curled into a sinister smirk that would scare you if you didn’t find him unbelievably attractive.
“Howdy, cowboy,” you grin up at him.
Jungkook cocks his head. His hand comes out, two nimble fingers catching the hem of your lace top. Your heart leaps clean out of your chest and goes somewhere it can’t be retrieved from. “This all for me, sugar?”
“Don’t get too cocky.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ll try not to.” He doesn’t bother pretending he’s not ogling you.
“Trying to get in touch with my Texan roots, y’know?” you joke, playing with the straw in what you hope is flirtatiously.
“Yeah? C’mon then.” He holds his hand out, chin tilting up. “Give me a twirl, sugar.”
With a smile, you place your hand in his and turn, jutting your hip out. You rotate under the light and when you come back to face him, his eyes have darkened enough that you can hardly see the brown in them.
He politely whistles, still holding your hand but bringing it down. “Well. If I knew Texas was gonna do that to a city girl, I’d have started recruitin’ from New York a long time ago.”
“You scouting for others?”
“Never,” he chuckles. He braces one hand against the wall beside your head. “You know, I’ve had a cowgirl fantasy or two as well.”
“Have you?”
“Mhm. Used to think it was about the boots." His eyes drop to your shorts, the way your hips hug the fabric. “Think I might’ve been wrong about that.”
“What’s it about then?”
“The girl wearing ‘em.”
“Scout’s honor?” you tease, and the smile that curls upon his lips sets your insides on fire.
“Always,” he salutes. “I was getting worried I wouldn’t see you ‘round here no more.”
From here, you can really see the height difference between you two, the way he towers over you. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Is this a goodbye, sugar? Don’t break my heart,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest.
Involuntarily, you grin. “I wanted to make sure when I came back here, I knew what I wanted.”
For a moment, he’s quiet, expression shifting. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, and his thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “And now what do you want?”
“Hi, Kook.”
It’s one of the girls you spotted earlier. She’s batting her eyes like she’s got a speck of dust in it, and is eyeing Jungkook in a way that makes her intention crystal clear.
“Hey.” Jungkook glances at her for a second, maybe two, before his gaze is back on you.
“I wanted to come over and say hi. Know it’s been a while since we last saw each other,” she purrs, ignoring your daggered eyes.
“I guess,” he shrugs, a protective finger looping through the belt holes in your shorts to pull you an inch further into him. Suddenly, you feel painfully inadequate. She’s actually trying to dissuade him to pick her instead of you.
“Remember when we spent that night under the stars last month? Just you, I, and a bottle of Jack—”
She shifts her weight onto her other foot, and she casts a furtive glance at you as if to question your presence. You’re questioning your existence right about now too.
“Hm.” He interrupts, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Her lips twist as though she’s just bit into a lemon. Then she sends a harrowing look in your direction, and you’re reminded that you’re the reason he won’t give her the time of day. You don’t really give a shit, though.
“Oh. Alright, then. Have a good rest of your night.” Her tone is tinged with hurt as she turns on the heel of her boots and flocks back to her group of girls, all of whom are busy throwing dirty looks at you.
Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t pay much mind. His dark eyes are still fixed on your face, thumb still looped through the hole.
“That wasn’t very nice,” you say into your drink.
“You want me to be nice to her?” he coyly smiles.
You think you’d rather lose all your limbs in a fire.
You shrug in silence. Jungkook tilts your jaw up to meet his eyes. “You were about to say something before.”
“Was I?”
“Before we were interrupted,” he retorts, settling his hand in your jean pocket.
“Oh.” Finding the words doesn’t come easy, even if you know exactly what you want to say. Instead, you settle on, “Did you drive here?”
“‘Course, sugar.”
“Well… you wanna get out of here?”
Amusement crosses his face. “Damn right I do.”
He plants a warm hand at the small of your back, guiding you toward the door. You drop your half-drunken margarita on a nearby table. As you let yourself be steered by him, there’s a smug smile glued to your face, especially when you catch the eyes and whispers of girls. There’s something about this city, this man, that makes you confident in yourself.
Jungkook parked his car in the back of the filled lot. From there, the noise dissipates into nothingness, nothing but the sound of bugs chirping and cars in the distance on I-40. Out here, you can forget about your old life.
“Earlier, you asked what I wanted.”
“I did, sugar.” He’s loitering with his keys in his pocket, a smirk evident on his lips as he leans against the driver’s door of his pickup truck.
You gnaw at your lower lip. “I think I want to repay my debts to you.”
“Really?” In the dark of the night, you can hardly make out his obsidian eyes, the shadows on his face settling. “How do ya plan on doing that?”
“Think I owe you that ride still.”
His lips come crashing down onto yours, large hands weaving into your hair, tugging on it. You unabashedly moan into his mouth as he tugs you further into him, like he wants you to live in his skin. Your hand lands on his chest, and you feel the broad muscle under his tank, the rapid flutter of his heart. His tongue licks into your mouth, sloppy and full of desire, and you don’t even care about how your whimpers sound against him. It’s all so sudden your body takes a moment to find its rhythm, but when you do, you realize how soft his lips are, how such a good fucking kisser he is. You probably shouldn’t have expected anything less from the Austin's communal mattress, but that’s neither here nor there.
The hand once pressed against your back wanders down, down until he’s cupping your ass firmly. He kneads the skin, and he groans into your mouth, lips hot and wet against your own. Austin, Texas is known for its sweltering heat, but with Jungkook’s body against yours, the brisk, night air can’t even cool you down.
His lips trail off your lips, pressing against your cheek, and you feel the cold metal of his piercing against your burning skin. “You look so pretty in this outfit, sugar.”
Your body combusts under his weight and words. His tongue slides back into your mouth, hand moving from your ass to your neck where he gently clutches around it. “Wore it for you,” you whisper between kisses.
“Hm.” he pecks your lips once more. “I was hoping so. Must be real lucky to be the first cowboy to have you.”
“And the last,” you say before leaning back in for another messy kiss, drunk off the way he tastes, more than any alcohol could ever give you.
His hands come down to cradle the back of your thighs, and before you can protest, he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the door of his truck. Gasping, your hands scramble for purchase around his neck, thighs snugly hugging his waist. Jungkook’s lips press against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses wherever he can. You want all of him, more of him, by any means you can get it. Your fingers entangle in his dark locks, tugging at the nape. He groans, “F-fuck, we need to get in the car, sugar.”
“Mhm, take me there, then,” Your smile is dopey as he carries you around to the passenger side, opening the door and sitting down so he can plop you directly onto his lap. His thighs are firm muscle beneath you. He slams the door shut, lips finding yours once more. Your knees cage him in, and he digs his fingers into your flesh. You can hardly keep up with the movement of his tongue, can’t really do anything but open your mouth and take whatever he gives you.
For once, you don’t care about anyone seeing you, or what anyone might think. Luckily, the lot is empty, save for people who are far more worried about entering the bar than leaving, or whatever you’re doing in this vehicle.
“Lift your hips up for me, doll,” he mutters, lips hardly breaking from yours, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shorts. You do as he says, allowing him access. He slides your shorts down your legs, depositing them on the floor of his truck. Your knees feel like jelly, quivering with anticipation as he tugs your underwear off next. Desperately, you fall back into his lap, clit pressed against his jeans for as much friction as possible.
Beneath you, you can feel his hard length poking through his jeans, and your cheeks warm up at the thought of him getting hard from just some kissing. You gently test the waters, hips rolling into his crotch. He grunts, hands steadying your movements. “Fuck, sugar, I won’t last long if you plan on doing that.”
“Who says I want you to last long?” you whisper, lips tracing the shell of his ear. And then he’s grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you in, in, in, kissing you like he wants to swallow your essence entirely. He pulls the straps of your top down until your tits pop out. You gasp at the sudden exposure, cold air causing your nipples to perk up. His fingers come to play with the pert bud, and you whimper atop him.
“Most perfect tits I’ve ever seen, sugar.” He trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone, tongue licking a path down to your breasts. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, and a choked moan escapes you.
Your fingers intertwine in his hair, tugging, and that elicits a groan from him. His tongue flicks the nipple up, down, and your back arches against the dashboard. You tug at his hair as he messily sucks your tits, leaving bruises you’re sure will last weeks. Jungkook’s hips rut into your sopping entrance hopelessly, and his length pokes into your inner thigh. You’re pretty sure you’re creaming all over his pants, not that he even minds. On every hitch of his hips forward, his teeth grazes your nipple, undoing you.
Truth be told, you’ve been soaked since the moment you laid eyes on him. Since the moment you saw the hat upon his head, muscles bulging out of everything he owns. You push his jean jacket off his shoulders, seeing the tattoo that extends across his biceps and collarbone, a myriad of color.
Finally, he peers up at you, swollen lips and blown pupils. You waste no time in pressing your lips to his again. He can probably taste the remaining sugar from your margarita on your tongue, and if anything, the thought seems to excite him, the thought that other parts of you may be sweet as well. Gripping onto his biceps, you can feel the veins that trace up his arms. A whine exits from the back of your throat. “Jungkook, touch me.”
“Hm, where, sugar? Use your words.” He presses a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips.
Words aren’t something you can muster, so you take his hand and place it against your clit, right where he can feel how fucking soaked you are, dripping onto his jeans. “Shit,” he curses, swallowing thickly. “You’re dripping. You been like this the whole time?”
Eagerly, you nod like a broken bobblehead.
One finger dips between your folds, gathering your essence before taking it back to his mouth and licking it clean off. “Just as sweet as I imagined.”
There’s no air left in your lungs to form words with, no brainpower beyond the feeling of wanting more, more, more. His finger finds your clit, and you throw your head back, moaning loudly that you’re damn near certain the entirety of Texas heard you. Toothily, Jungkook grins, pointer and middle finger rubbing circles against your clit. His tongue comes to lick a trail up your neck, sucking the sweet spot behind your ear. It’s like he has a map to you, knows exactly where to touch you to have you writhing.
A finger slides through your wetness before finally pushing into your entrance, down to his knuckle. Your fingernails rake down his biceps, leaving red marks in its place. He fucks the finger steadily in and out, thumbing at your clit simultaneously. “Ngh—fuck, don’t stop,” you moan, grinding into his finger. Just one isn’t enough, you know it won’t be, need to feel him fill you up.
“P-please,” you beg, although you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. But he seems to understand, pushing a second finger inside you, curling upwards to your sweet spot. Your body jolts forward, nails now digging crescent moons into his skin. “Oh fuck, feels so good.”
“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “Your pussy’s so tight and warm. Gonna be a dream to fuck you, sugar.”
“M-me either.” You shiver, and on autopilot, your shaky fingers come to undo his belt buckle, unzipping his jeans. “Please fuck me, Kook. I want it. Want to feel you inside me.”
“Yeah?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your cheek and nose, “Want me to fuck you the way you deserve?”
A long, languid moan escapes you, anticipation leaping into your throat. “Please. Please l-let me give you that ride.”
“If you insist,” he devilishly smiles, pulling his fingers out of you, licking them clean once more. He pulls down his boxers as much as he can with you on top, gets out his cock, and hisses as he strokes himself a few times.
Shit. You should’ve known he would be big, but he’s at least twice the size of your ex. Saliva pools in your mouth at how veiny and red his cock is. His hat hangs over his eyes as he looks down at his cock, chest heaving and bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth.
It’s like a lightbulb flashes over your head, with an idea so sinister you almost can’t believe you came up with it yourself.
You get your hands on the soft fabric of his hat, nudging it off his head and placing it on yours. It’s a little too big, hangs over your eyes, but Jungkook’s jaw goes slack nonetheless. “You gonna give me that ride while you wear my hat?” His cock twitches in his palm as he lazily strokes it, eyes never leaving yours.
“Uhu,” you agree, replacing his hand with yours on his cock. He’s girthier than you imagined, can hardly fit the whole of him in your palm. He quickly moves to kiss you again, and you take the opportunity to glide the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the arousal that’s pooled. You both moan in unison.
“Fuck, don’t tease me, sugar,” he grunts, eyes glazed over with lust.
Whimpering, you obey him, and his cock enters you in one go. Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and it’s a slow, torturous slide down, until your folds hit his pelvic bone. He sharply inhales, cursing as his head hits the headrest. Your legs tremble with how full of him you feel, how much of him bulges in your stomach when you look down. “Fuck, Kook. Y’you’re so big.”
Jungkook’s calloused hands run up and down your sides. His face is mostly hidden behind the shadows in his car, but you can make out his rosy lips and cheeks. “I know, baby, but you can take it. Go ‘head and give me that ride you owe me.”
Slowly, you move up and down, only a mere inch at a time. Just enough to see the bulge inside your stomach move a tad. The hat slides further over your eyes as you gently move. He tips it back, cupping your cheek so he can see how fucked out you look already. “C’mon, use me, sugar. Show me how you ride dick.”
You nod in response, your cunt clenching around his length. Arousal drips down his cock onto his abdomen, and your head hits the ceiling as you use all your strength to bounce on his cock. Loud whines and curses fill the space, Jungkook’s mouth buried into your neck, hands coming to spread your ass cheeks so you can take him deeper. “Yeah, that’s it. Ride my fucking cock, sugar.”
The sounds fog up the window—your pussy squelching with each thrust, the slap of his balls against your ass, his throaty groans.
“These fucking tits. Wanna see them bounce in my face all the time,” he says, a hand coming up to slap your hardened nipples, and you moan. A trickle of sweat falls down your back, falling into the fabric that has now pooled around your waist. “You doing good, sugar?” His voice is sinful, and your cunt clenches around him again.
“Mhm. Your cock is so deep inside me.” Bouncing becomes more tiresome, thighs trembling with pent-up desire. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy to ride cock as one had hoped, but you’re determined to get you and him over the edge.
His hair is ruffled by your fingers as he trails a path of sloppy, wet kisses to the valley of your breasts. “You look so fucking good with my hat on.” Even though the edge is tipping over your eyes again, he fondly peers at you, how utterly blissed out your expression looks, cheeks ruddy.
Somehow, he must feel the exhaustion creeping upon you, because he plants his boots onto the floor and bucks up into you, causing moans to elicit from you. “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight n’ wet. It’s like a fucking drug, sugar,” he croons into your neck.
His cock plunges in and out of you with more force. Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you tight, tight, tight to his chest, tits bouncing against him. You hold onto the hat, leaning against the dashboard so he can hit your sweet spot, just where you want him. “Oh—fuck, right there, Kook!”
His teeth drag against your skin, hips pistoning in and out. Puffs of breath escape his mouth and hit your skin. “If you were mine, would never let ya go,” he babbles, clearly pussy drunk. “Ain’t never letting you get near another cowboy. You’re all mine now, sugar.”
Clearly, your body takes a liking to the buckets of filth he’s pouring in your ear, and your walls clench around his length, your imminent orgasm creeping up on you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, and the pit in your stomach grows and grows, the knot almost coming undone as he continues hitting what you think might be your cervix.
You swear you feel him in your stomach as he says. “You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock? Make a mess of my truck?”
“Gonna cum, Kook. Please make me cum,” you chant, and then it’s a gush of wetness escaping you, back arching far enough that the hat falls onto the console, thighs trembling and jaw slack. Normally, you’d be embarrassed, but all you can think about is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, walls frantically clamping down on him as you ride out your orgasm.
“Are you gonna cum inside me?” You’re sure you sound desperate when you ask, but he peers up at you with hooded eyes and responds, “If that’s what you want, sugar.”
It only takes a few more pumps of his hips to send him over the edge as well, hips stuttering, before groaning and emptying himself inside you. Slumping against his chest, his cock twitches, then softens inside you, and all that can be heard in the truck is the sound of you two struggling to catch your breath.
“Holy shit,” is all you can say.
His nails gently run down your spine, sending goosebumps blossoming across your skin. “Good ride?” he jokes, pressing kisses down the slope of your shoulder.
“Totally worth it.”
And you mean it, every ounce of it. Can see the sunshine and rainbows, the things you thought were once hidden behind dark clouds.
Just like you thought it would, it was good. Probably even better than that, probably impossible to find a word in the English dictionary to describe it. Enough so that maybe, you’ll extend your year-long lease in Texas. Make it two, perhaps.
“Jungkook?”
“Hm, sugar?”
“Can you take me to the ranch?”
A chuckle reverberates through his chest, and you feel it everywhere his skin touches yours. “Yeah, darlin’. How ‘bout tomorrow?”
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. when you are twenty-six, your man happens to be forty-eight-year-old jeon jungkook. a masterpiece of a man who looks more like a walking sin than someone's uncle. you then quickly realize the rules of regular dating don't apply. it’s definitely not daddy issues, at least... you highly hope so.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. age gap romance, older!jungkook, established relationship, slice-of-life, romantic comedy, crack, fluff, angst, themes of jealousy and possessiveness, usage of pet names.
summary: trying to steal the gold necklace around his neck, you didn’t realize that the man you were stealing from was a high-ranking police officer.
warnings: officer jungkook x thief reader, explicit sexual content, dead dove, cnc/dub-con, gun play, belt choking, usage of handcuffs, primal play, free use/rape, public sex, heavy degradation, manhandling, daddy, dom jk, clit rubbing, spitting, mock sympathy, condescending dirty talk, cum eating, pussy eating, blow job, usage whore & slut, praising, multiple orgasms, manipulation, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating penetrative sex, creampie.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂
Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.
"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."
Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"
A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept 1her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.
The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing.
"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."
You couldn't help but picture it.
Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.
You frowned, unease settling in your chest.
"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”
Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.
"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."
She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.
"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..."
She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."
A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.
The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.
Perhaps that's what desperation does.
It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.
Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.
"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."
A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.
"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."
Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."
You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.
Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.
"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."
You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.
You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far.
College was different.
Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving.
So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.
Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.
Needs always came first.
Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.
Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.
Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth.
While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things.
The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.
You loved that life.
More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.
Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide.
You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.
So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.
You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.
You really believed honest work would be enough.
Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.
You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford.
The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.
Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch.
For the first few months, you lived off your savings.
Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.
When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.
You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.
The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded.
Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.
The money came in. It left even faster.
And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.
It still wasn't enough.
Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.
For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due.
Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.
"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further.
It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.
Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing.
One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat.
The following day, it would already be gone.
Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her.
It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth.
You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity.
Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.
She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.
What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival.
By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living.
She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her.
You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass.
You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.
Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.
Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.
"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator.
She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board.
It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.
Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.
Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.
Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home.
You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.
She only laughed. "It gets easier."
You hated how right she was.
Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged.
Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most.
You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.
Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.
Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before.
Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.
"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud.
For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story.
You have no experience.
Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.
It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.
After all, you were still an amateur.
Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford.
While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.
Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.
According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying.
With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you.
The problem was…you had no idea how to do that.
You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.
Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.
"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."
You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"
"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.
"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.
Oh, you were doomed.
"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.
Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face.
Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.
Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."
You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.
Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease.
Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.
Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.
Which was almost funny.
Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.
"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.
You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.
You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.
The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.
Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.
You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest.
You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.
Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.
"Two draft beers, please."
The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.
Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.
"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.
You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.
Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.
Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.
"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.
Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though."
She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."
You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”
Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.
There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties.
Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.
At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.
A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.
They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.
"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."
Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.
Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months.
While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.
Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten.
You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard.
But flirting? That was something entirely different.
Still...
You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.
The least you could do was try.
The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due.
You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.
"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."
Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"
She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.
"Cheers to that, baby."
The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.
Easy…smile, flirt and steal.
After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to.
It was time.
You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.
The barstool closest to their table sat empty.
You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.
Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.
Observe.
A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.
Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.
Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one.
If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.
You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.
Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long.
One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.
You kept looking.
Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.
Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt.
His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.
Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.
You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.
Target locked.
You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.
Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.
You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.
His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.
His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.
Your brows knitted together.
You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!
The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.
"Huh?"
His seat was empty!
Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.
"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.
Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.
Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.
The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.
As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.
"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.
What the fuck.
For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.
He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
"May I help you?"
Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.
"Hm?"
"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.
There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it.
Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.
Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.
"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"
You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to.
When he took a step closer, your breath hitched.
His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.
"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.
The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck.
Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.
"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.
Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!
His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.
Don't. Fake it until you make it.
"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.
"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."
The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.
As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck.
One careful movement...that was all it would take.
You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.
Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.
"Let's go to my car."
What?
"H-Huh? I..."
He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker.
"I can't fuck you here."
Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!
Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.
Fuck it.
You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was.
Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.
Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.
You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.
The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.
Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.
First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.
Second, you were not going to fuck him.
It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.
Your hormones could cry about it later.
Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.
He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.
"Get in."
He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside.
The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.
The hope didn't last.
The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin.
Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.
Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!
You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair.
Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.
A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.
The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.
For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.
His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up.
You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.
“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.
Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair.
Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.
A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.
You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.
“Mmph!”
A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.
“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap.
Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.
“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.
He tilted his head, studying you in silence.
The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.
“Kiss me back,” he rasped.
A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.
You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.
To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.
Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you.
He wasn't following your lead.
“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”
Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses.
Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation.
Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.
The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you.
He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.
Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.
Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs.
Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.
You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.
A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap.
Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.
“Grind on me.” he groaned.
Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.
“W-Wait—”
His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.
Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.
“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.
His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.
Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.
“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.
“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.
You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.
His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.
Fuck, you were getting so wet.
Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat.
Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.
“Oh my-”
His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.
“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.
Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.
A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.
“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”
He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.
You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you.
Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.
Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.
The necklace!
For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself.
You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.
Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.
His lips parted. “You like it?”
You nodded. “Hmm…”
“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction.
Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.
Then—the clasp gave.
Relief crashed over you.
You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest.
Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.
"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace.
"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.
His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.
“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.
Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties.
The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.
“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.
Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric.
You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.
His wallet.
You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body.
A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.
“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.
He only chuckled against your skin.
The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.
“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.”
The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.
Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement.
Fuck, focus Y/N.
His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.
You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you.
“Oh my…”
For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.
“Baby…” he groaned harshly.
His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.
Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.
“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips.
Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.
A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together.
“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.
“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath.
Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.
His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.
Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.
Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"
You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.
"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"
Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.
A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.
He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.
"Swallow."
You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.
His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.
"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"
The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.
“L-Long time ago.”
As if Y/N!
He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.
"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.
God, this was so wrong.
“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.
"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.
The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.
"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."
A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.
"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.
He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.
Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.
"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.
You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”
He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.
"You sure?"
"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.
Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.
A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.
The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.
“Well done, baby.” he praised.
Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.
Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.
Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.
"I’m so proud." he whispered.
As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.
Your fucking mission.
You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.
"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.
You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.
"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."
His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.
You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.
"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.
His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.
The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action.
You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water.
Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat.
Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.
With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart.
The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights.
This has to be high-karat.
Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.
Almost.
A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh.
Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside.
Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.
It was a gun.
What the fuck?
Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot.
You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.
"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.
For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened.
Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.
But it was already too late.
If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity.
And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.
With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view.
Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder.
A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.
CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT
Rank: Captain | Name: Jeon Jungkook
For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you.
"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"
The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder.
Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last.
You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.
Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.
"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.
You froze.
Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears.
The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.
You had been fucking caught.
Not just by any random stranger.
But by a goddamn police captain.
"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.
"O-Officer, I—"
"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist.
The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.
Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.
He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.
"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."
A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments.
You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.
You had just thrown your entire life away.
“P-Please, I-’’
"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"
You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"
A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.
He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.
"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.
“I-I’m sorry-”
“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.
Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.
Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.
"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"
‘’Run.”
Your lips parted in disbelief.
"W-What?"
He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."
Desperation made people do reckless things.
It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.
You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark.
People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman.
They would see a thief.
A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.
Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.
You never got the chance.
A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.
“L-Let me go!” you cried.
The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—
A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.
You were handcuffed.
He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.
"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.
Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.
"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.
"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"
The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.
“Anything, baby?” he whispered.
He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint.
Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.
His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.
"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.
“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.
You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.
I am not enjoying this, I am not-
A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply.
You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.
When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.
“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.
You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.
When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.
You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.
A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling.
“W-What-”
"Spread your legs."
His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.
A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.
“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.
You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.
“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”
His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.
“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.
“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.
You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.
“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.
He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?”
He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin.
“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”
You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.
He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.
Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.
"O-Officer—"
“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.
Desperation was a frightening thing.
It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.
When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.
"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.
"Y-Yes," you whimpered.
He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"
You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."
He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.
A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.
You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you.
Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue.
“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.
Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.
“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.
A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.
His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.
“Wanna steal more, baby?”
His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully.
He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.
You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.
“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”
“O-Officer-”
His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”
His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.
"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.
He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.
"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."
A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.
“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.
Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair.
"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."
You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.
He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.
His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.
“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.
“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.
“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”
You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.
“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.
His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.
“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’
“Mhmp!” you whimpered.
“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.
“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.
He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.
“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.
“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.
For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.
But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.
Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.
“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.
The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.
A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.
“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.
“This is turning you on, huh?”
You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.
“Want me to stop?” he whispered.
“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.
“Yeah? You like getting used?”
He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.
"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."
The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.
You thought he was done.
A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.
Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.
A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper.
“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.
When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling.
“W-Wait-” you panicked.
A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.
He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth.
You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—
A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.
Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.
You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.
As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.
"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward.
You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.
The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.
"Kneel for me."
Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.
"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.
"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."
The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.
"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."
He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.
"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."
He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.
"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.
He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.
"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis.
He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.
"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.
You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.
He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"
You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum.
“Mhm..”
“Mhm?” he chuckled.
He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.”
Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.
"Gurk—gurk—"
You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.
"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."
He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.
You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.
“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”
A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.
"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."
Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.
A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.
A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.
You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught.
Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.
Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.
He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.
Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.
You hadn't even told Hanni about them.
Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.
He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.
From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.
No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.
Why did he let you?
You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.
Perhaps you hadn't changed.
Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.
Maybe you wanted to see him again.
You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.
You had been stealing for six months now.
You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.
Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.
Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.
Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.
Your eyes widened.
Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs.
Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.
Power looked infuriatingly good on him.
Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.
“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”
Pairing: Spy!Steve x Spy!Reader
WC: 10.5k
Warnings: enemies to lovers, loosely inspired by mr. and mrs. smith, the avengers are not super mainstream in this, sexual tension, shower scene, makeout, jealousy, mean!steve at times, brat!reader, eventual smut (dry humping, fingering, unprotected p in v, edging, creampie, steve eating you out within an inch of your life (munch steve come homeeeeeeee), doggy style, tonguefucking), mentions of voyeurism, surveillance, size kink, miscommunication, angst-ish with comfort.
Summary: You and Steve are voluntold you're married for an undercover mission. Should be easy, except you hate each other.
+fran: this is the opening showing of the Captain Americana Film Festival and my humble contribution to Steve's birthday!!! I cannot tell you how much it filled me with joy that I sat down to write this on the 4th and actually spat out 10k words. WE ARE SO BACK!!! Happy 108th to the man who will always have my heart, has been the gold standard against which I measure every man, (this is blond man propaganda) and also my astrological twin <3 no one gets me like he does fr.
⤷ you should go listen to the incredible playlist named "mr and mrs smith [john and jane]" by marybatz on spotify
"Absolutely not!"
Fury had the timing of a tax audit to a billionaire CEO. Of course, of course, you'd be stuck playing this mission with fucking Steve.
One second you were minding your business, enjoying what was left of your coffee and your relatively peaceful morning, and the next Nick Fury was informing you that you would be spending the foreseeable future pretending to be happily married to Steve Rogers.
"You're going." Fury didn't even break stride. He rolled his eye and kept walking down the hallway toward the conference room, clearly done entertaining your complaints before you'd even finished making them, with you hot on his heel.
Your footsteps echoed in the wide hallway as you walked backwards, facing Fury. "Can't I marry someone else for this?" You pondered. "What about Barnes?"
Fury stopped so suddenly you nearly tripped. "You want to pretend to be married to Barnes?"
You opened your mouth, immediately closed it, thought for a second and shrugged, squeezing your eyes shut. "That's not the point."
"That's what I thought."
The polished floors reflected the overhead lights as the two of you moved through the hallway. “Nat, maybe? Some of those married dudes would eat up girl-on-girl and spill the beans right away. Mission would be so quick!”
Fury walked with the patience of a man who'd dealt with far worse than you. The fact that he hadn't strangled you after years of working together was honestly kind of impressive, a little endearing almost.
Both of you quickly arrived at the conference room door, Fury stopping with his hand on the handle, turning his face to you and letting our a frustrated sigh. "Do you like working here?"
You rolled your eyes, "Yes, sir." What kind of question was that?
"And what's your title?" His brow quirked up.
A confused look plastered all over your face. "Agent."
He leaned down to talk to you closer, almost like explaining rules to a petulant child, "Then be an agent." and proceeded to push the door open and hold it for you, giving you full view of Steve Rogers sitting at the head of the table with a sour expression on his face, just as displeased to have to pretend to love you for the mission.
The training room should've been empty half an hour ago, and technically, everyone was done for the day.
It should’ve been quiet—mats wiped down, lights dimmed, everyone gone for the night.
Instead, the air was thick.
Heavy with sweat, heat, and something sharp enough to make the back of your neck prickle. The entire team and a couple recruits were watching you.
Well, you and Steve.
At first not openly—no one was stupid enough to make it obvious—but they lingered. Leaned against walls, sat on benches, hovered just close enough to pretend they had somewhere else to be.
It started as any other training session did, you rotated partners, almost like shark bait: in and out, partner after partner cycling through you while you stayed planted on the mat, pushing your stamina, your endurance, your patience.
Until you ended up on the other side of the mat from Steve.
Barefoot, sleeves rolled, skin already lightly sheened with the littlest bit of sweat that somehow made him look betterinstead of worse—which was deeply, personally offensive.
Here's the thing: he was a super soldier. He had endless stamina, super strength, reflexes that outmatched 99% of the population, and he had it all with perfect blond hair and barely breaking a sweat on his sculpted body.
It infuriated the hell out of you.
He blocked every kick, every punch, and when he didn't he wasn't even phased.
It made you go harder, to the point where you found yourselves now: almost trying to hurt each other.
By then, no one was even preteding to be occupied by anything else, shamelessly staring at the two of you at the center of the mat like Oppenheimer waiting for a bomb to go off.
Steve had stopped treating you with the same careful restraint he used with newer recruits. He'd throw you harder into the mats, knock the wind from your lungs, shove you back with enough force to remind you exactly how much stronger he was, and you'd borderline play dirty.
Every hit had a little more weight behind it. Neither willing to back down. Neither willing to lose.
Sam was sitting backwards in a chair, chin propped on his arms, watching like he had front row seats to the best show of his life; Natasha looked delighted; Bucky looked concerned, brows drawn, arms crossed tight over his chest, like he was trying to decide whether to step in or let you both learn your lesson the hard way.
Steve stood opposite of you, his feet staggered and his arms up, making a "come at me" motion with his fingers. His hair was slightly mussed, a damp strand falling forward over his forehead.
"Come to daddy."
The entire room held their breaths, and you saw red.
In hindsight, you should've planned a better move than to just charge at him, the strength in your muscles and bones not being able to match his. You should've thought of something tactical, something smart.
But also… you fucking hated his guts.
Which is exactly how you ended up with your cheek and stomach pressed to the sweaty mat, with Steve's whole weight on your back, your wrists pinned between the two of you and his right arm laced under yours and up your back, hand holding your neck down.
His hands caught you mid-motion, grip iron-tight as he twisted, using your momentum against you with terrifying ease, his grip locking your body in place, the angle just shy of painful.
"You need to work on your psyche. Mind over matter." His stupid voice right in your ear made goosebumps bloom up your spine, so you did what any reasonable person would do.
You flexed the knee that was between his spread legs hard enough that you hit him square in the balls, giving you the out you needed.
You straightened on your feet, pushing damp hair back from your face, a breathless, borderline feral grin breaking across your lips as he winced on the mat in pain.
"Who's your daddy now?"
Your breathless laughter was cut short, Fury's booming voice breaking through any pain or enjoyment present in the room. "You do know domestic violence is not part of your cover story, no?"
Both of your heads whipped in the direction of his voice.
He continued to walk in your direction, dropping two folders in front of your feet, and Steve, who was still kneeling down on the mat. "Shower this off. You leave in the morning, lovebirds."
The neighborhood looked like the kind of place where people complained to the HOA because their neighbor's hydrangeas were the wrong shade of blue.
Every lawn was trimmed within an inch of its life, sharp lines cutting through impossibly green grass like someone came out with a ruler every morning.
The mailboxes all matched—sleek, black, expensive-looking—and every driveway held something polished and obscene:luxury SUV or a car that definitely cost more than your first apartment.
The houses themselves were enormous. White trim, brick facades, wraparound porches, massive windows that left little room for privacy on a street that looked like it loved to mind every business but its own.
You sat in the passenger seat while Steve drove to your home, the undercover file open across your lap like a book while your bare feet rested on the dash.
Because annyong Steve was free, and your favorite past time. "No feet on the dash."
You turned a page, ignoring him. "They're staying." You read more of the file. "It's more comfortable that way." Your light blue summer dress was bunched up higher across your thighs, and he did a double take before taking a right turn to your house block.
He sighed. "If we crash—"
"Just look at the road instead of me and we'll be fine." That made him shift in the driver's seat, straightening his posture and looking ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing in annoyance.
What irritated Steve about you was the fact that these comebacks never even seemed to make sense or be thought of, it just rolled off your tongue, almost just for the plot. And you didn't even care.
He didn't even know why you hated him so much in the first place, but he reciprocated the feeling as soon as he saw how insubordinate and bratty you were.
Steve sighed the long suffering sigh of a man questioning every life decision that had brought him to this moment. "You're impossible." Muttered under his breath.
"You're a Senior Project Manager at your own company, honey!" Fake admiration and praise filled your voice. "Oh, you proposed quick! Only a year after our first date." You turned to him, your first real smile plastered on your face. "You're so down bad."
The car came to a stop in your driveway, and Steve turned it off, unclipping his seatbelt. "Put your shoes on, we're here and I feel eyes already."
"Bossy." You muttered, doing exactly as he said. As you got out of the car, your voice went up an octave, carrying through the humid summer weather.
“Ready, honey?” you asked, slipping the word out effortlessly, like you’d been saying it for years.
He opened the front door for you, making sure whoever was watching heard him just as well, possessive in a way that made your breath hitch before you could stop it.
“After you, sweetheart.”
You'd barely had enough time to figure out which bedroom closet was yours before the doorbell rang.
ding-dong. ding-dong.
You froze in the middle of the bedroom, one hand still gripping a hanger, Steve somewhere down the hall filling a modified cabinet with all sorts of concealed weapons.
You dropped the hanger onto the bed without another thought, smoothing your hands down your dress as you moved. Steve stepped out of the kitchen at the same time, wiping his hands on a dish towel like he’d been doing something domestic instead of checking sightlines and exits.
Ben and Julie Poindexter stood in your porch like they had been plucked straight out of a catalog. They were ones you hoped to make the acquaintance of quickly, as he was the right hand of the big druglord you and Steve were tasked with making an airtight case on.
Years of field work had taught you that monsters were rarely obvious, still, some primitive part of your brain always expected criminals to look like criminals.
Instead, Ben Poindexter looked like somebody who coached Little League and had multiple PTA moms undoing extra buttons in their cardigans to get his attention. Beside him, Julie beamed, already leaning slightly forward like she couldn’t wait to know everything about you.
“Oh my goodness,” she breathed, eyes lighting up. “You must be the Adlers!” You felt Steve shift beside you, his hand coming to rest warm on your back with an ease that shouldn't be there in the best of actors.
He smiled, and it was a good one. The kind that made people relax immediately. The kind that five years ago made you—
“Guilty,” he said easily. “Frank.” Right. Frank Adler.
He extended his hand and Ben took it immediately, introducing you then. “I’m Dex,” the shorter blond said in return, just as easy. “This is my wife, Julie.”
“Hi,” you said, stepping forward like you hadn’t been mentally preparing to dismantle her entire social circle for intel. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
She lit up.
“Oh, you are just adorable,” she gushed, reaching out to squeeze your arm like you were already best friends. “We saw the moving truck this morning and I told Ben, I said, ‘We have to go introduce ourselves before everyone else gets to them first.’”
You faked confusion. "Ben…?"
He chuckled lightly in response. "That's me, I… uh… Ben's really only for her and my parents. Friends call me Dex."
You smiled back in understanding. “We appreciate that,” he said smoothly. “It’s been a bit of a whirlwind getting settled.”
“So,” Dex cut in, tone casual but eyes observant, “what brings you two here?” There it was. The first test.
You felt Steve’s thumb twitch slightly against your back. A cue , or maybe just instinct. “Work, mostly,” he said, not missing a beat. “I just transferred to oversee a new branch out here.”
Julie gasped softly. “Oh! That’s right, you’re the project manager, right? We heard something about that—”
Of course they did.
You tilted your head toward Steve, letting your smile soften just a touch as you looked at him. Pride, affection… Just enough to sell it.
“He won’t say it, but he’s very good at what he does.” You interjected, turning your sweet smile to your nosy neighbors again.
His hand pressed a little more firmly into your back before easing again. “Someone has to pay the bills,” he joked lightly, glancing down at you.
"It's a 50/50 relationship," you shot back, nudging his side with your elbow just enough to look playful. "You earn money, and I look pretty in the things it buys." Your hand reached up to scratch the freshly shaven skin of his chin.
“Wow,” Julie breathed, practically vibrating with delight. “You two are so cute.”
You laughed, soft, a little embarassed… and completely fake. Dex watched that exchange carefully. His smile stayed in place, but his eyes sharpened just a fraction.
“New couples usually take a while to settle in around here,” he said, tone still easy. “But I think you two will fit right in.”
“Well,” you said lightly, leaning just a little closer into Steve without thinking about it, “we’re counting on our neighbors to help with that.”
Julie clasped her hands together. “Oh, you have to come to dinner this weekend! Everyone’s going to be there—it’s kind of our thing.”
“We’d love to,” Steve said, lightly nodding.
Both of them smiled in satisfaction, briefly saying their goodbyes and we'll let you get settled. As they started to step back, Julie waved enthusiastically. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”
Integration happened faster and easier than either of you expected. Almost like… bait.
It started with waves.
Small, polite acknowledgments from across driveways—neighbors watering already-perfect lawns, women in linen sets pausing mid-walk with their equally curated dogs. At first it was just smiles, quick introductions repeated twice because no one actually listened the first time, or maybe they expected you to slip up.
Names, occupations, how long you planned to stay.
Somehow, without either of you saying much at all, your lives had already been filled in for you. Steve—Frank—was “the project manager from the city.” You were “so sweet” and “adjusting beautifully.”
It was unsettling.
Steve got pulled in first.
Dex made it look casual—leaning over the fence one late afternoon while Steve pretended to struggle with a hose attachment he absolutely knew how to fix.
“Couple of us head out to the club on Saturdays,” Dex had said, like it wasn’t a test. Like it wasn’t an invitation into something much bigger. “You golf?”
Steve had shrugged, wiping his hands on a towel like the answer didn’t matter. “Enough not to embarrass myself.”
Dex chuckled. “Good. Fisk hates losing.”
That was how Steve Rogers found himself in pressed polos and quiet greens, standing under the sun with a man who ran half the city from behind clean hands and cleaner money.
Wilson Fisk didn’t look like a monster either. They never did.
From the sidelines, it would’ve looked normal—three men talking shop, trading easy laughs, the soft crack of a golf ball slicing through the air.
But Steve came home with tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and eyes that thought too much.
You were integrated differently. Faster, deeper in a sense. If you wanna know a man, you need to know the woman in his life first. Julie took one look at you and decided you were hers.
Brunch turned into wine nights, which turned into yoga classes and impromptu shopping trips where you learned which women talked too much, which ones listened too closely, and which ones pretended not to notice everything while noticing everything.
You laughed when you were supposed to, touched arms at the right moments, let yourself be pulled into conversations about renovations and charity events and who was “having trouble in their marriage” this week.
You played the part. Perfectly.
But you also listened. And Julie talked, about Dex, about their marriage, about his schedule, the men he worked with, his "job".
About Fisk in a careful, vague way that told you she knew just enough to be useful and not enough to be dangerous.
Inside the house, however, nothing really changed. You were in bliss whenever Steve was anywhere outside of the five thousand square feet of the house. And in hell when you could hear his footsteps through the hallways.
“Why are your shoes in the middle of the hallway?” “Because I took them off.”
“You put a gun in the cereal cabinet.” “It was concealed.”
And yet, somewhere in between the arguing and the slammed cabinets and the pointed silences, you moved around each other.
Steve adjusted the cuff of his polo as he stepped out onto the green, the sun warm against the back of his neck, the grass trimmed so perfectly it almost didn’t look real. Somewhere in the distance, a fountain trickled softly—controlled, decorative, intentional.
Everything here was curated, including the people. Dex stood a few feet ahead, already mid-conversation with a Fisk, Steve immediately recognizing his big frame.
“Frank,” Dex called easily, turning just enough to wave him over. “Glad you made it.”
Steve walked up at an even pace, shoulders loose, posture relaxed, every movement deliberate in its lack of tension. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Dex clapped his hands lightly. “Let’s see if you actually know how to swing that thing.”
The game itself was uneventful on the surface, small talk, a couple of drinks over a few holes, business talk, the kind of conversation that never said anything directly but still managed to reveal everything if you knew how to listen.
Steve pretending to be worse than Fisk at golf remembering what Dex said about him not liking losing.
Well, who does? He thought.
He missed a shot he could’ve made here and there, fake grimace on his face to help sell the lie, burrow himself deeper in the web.
Dex talked the most—easy laughter, casual stories, the kind of man who filled silence before it could become uncomfortable.
Fisk didn’t, he was quieter, more measured. Almost amused.
By the ninth hole, Steve could feel the shift, the attention settling more fully onto him. He was past the evaluation phase and onto something else.
Fisk set his club aside after a clean shot, stepping back as one of the attendants moved to retrieve it. He didn’t look at Steve immediately, instead adjusting his cufflinks with slow, precise movements.
“Beautiful house you’ve got,” Fisk said finally.
Steve shrugged lightly, taking a swing of his beer. “Got lucky to swoop in right when it went on the market.”
Fisk hummed. “I find luck tends to favor the well-prepared.” Steve didn’t respond, Fisk’s gaze lifted then. “You and your wife settling in well?”
For some reason, hearing such a dangerous man mention you made him uneasy. And it shouldn't, because he hated you. Steve forced his expression to remain easy. “Yeah. She likes it here.” He paused for a second. “She’s… adjusting.”
Fisk’s lips curved slightly. “Is she?” Steve’s grip on the club in his hand tightened just a fraction.
Dex shifted beside them, glancing between the two, something quieter settling over his usual ease.
“You know,” Fisk continued, tone almost conversational, “I take a great interest in the people who choose to live in the neighborhood.”
Steve tilted his head slightly. “Seems like a lot of effort.”
Fisk chuckled softly. “It is if you don't have the… resources.”
Steve didn’t like the way he said that, didn’t like the weight behind it.
The back nine loosened things.
Or at least, that’s what it looked like.
Dex got louder, a little more relaxed with each hole, his posture easing into something casual as the game stretched on. Drinks appeared somewhere around the seventh—cold, expensive, handed off by staff who moved like ghosts—and by the tenth, the conversation had shifted.
Way less about business.
Dex snorted at something one of the other men—some hedge fund name Steve hadn’t bothered to remember—had said, shaking his head as he lined up his shot.
“I’m telling you,” the man continued, grinning like he thought he was hilarious, “if you’re doing it right, she’s not walking straight the next morning.”
One of the others chimed in with something worse, cruder. The kind of joke that got easy agreement and knowing looks passed around like currency.
Steve didn’t react, just stood there, one hand resting loosely on his club, gaze fixed somewhere out over the green like he wasn’t listening.
“C’mon, Adler,” Dex called, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “You’ve been real quiet over there.”
Steve glanced over, trying to seem unbothered. Like he didn't want to roll his eyes at everything coming out of that prick's mouth. “Just listening.”
“That’s not how this works,” the hedge fund guy said with a smirk. “You gotta contribute. You’re married, right?”
“Familiarity,” Fisk continued, almost thoughtfully, like he was discussing market trends instead of people, “breeds a certain ease.”
“Guess some guys are just more private.” Steve chimed, moving as to redirect the conversation, walking a couple steps to the next hole. "I don’t feel the need to talk about my wife like that."
Silence fell upon the group for a second, Dex interjected to change the subject quickly, but the way Fisk looked at Steve the rest of the time made he hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Steve unlocked the kitchen door, toeing his shoes off as soon as he stepped inside. The house was clean, marble countertops reflecting the golden light coming through the curtains.
A candle burned on the center island that made the house smell like a bouquet of fresh flowers, blooming in deepest winter.
The door clocked shit behind him with a soft, controlled click, as he called out "Babe?" while letting his keys rattle against the marble.
He stepped further into the kitchen, eyes sweeping automatically—back door locked, blinds angled just enough, nothing out of place. The cabinet he’d modified earlier sat closed, unassuming, hiding everything it needed to.
He called out for you again, "Sweetheart?", feet padding into the house and when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he heard the shower running on.
Steve's mind kept replaying the interactions he'd had that day, how Fisk seemed to have too much knowledge of his dynamic with you to not have—
Of course.
A man like Fisk wouldn't just intentionally have a blind side.
The motherfucker had surveillance on your house.
In your house.
The sound got clearer and clearer as he moved up the stairs. The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and sun-dimmed, and then right outside of the bathroom door, steam curling underneath it. Steve paused just outside it, his hand hovering near the frame, his head tilting slightly as he listened.
You were humming, soft and absentminded.
Like you weren’t in the middle of a mission that had just taken a very sharp turn.
He exhaled softly through his nose, dragging a hand down his face, fingers catching briefly on the tension sitting heavy there.
He should wait, he knew he should. Whatever he had to say could wait ten minutes.
Five.
Hell, two.
But the words Fisk had said—had implied—sat in his chest like a weight that refused to settle. So if Fisk had creepily put surveillance in your home like Steve was 98% sure he had, you were gonna have to roll with the punches.
Steam hit him immediately, warm and thick, fogging the edges of his vision for half a second before it cleared.
Stripping his shirt, kicking off the rest of his clothes in a blur of motion that would’ve felt ridiculous under any other circumstance.
He walked into the shower, watching you let the water trickle over you, over your face, your neck, your chest, and he thanked every God he could think of that his body was cooperating and he did not have more than a half-hard on right then and there.
Which meant that you finished rinsing your shampoo off and opened your eyes to find a very, very naked Steve Rogers encapsulated by the shower stall glass around you.
With you.
All naked, and very wet, and very naked, and—
"Ahh!" You shrieked in surprise, stumbling back half a step, water splashing over him as your hands came up instinctively. "What the f—" Steve put his index finger on his lips with one hand, the other motioning to his ear and out.
We're being listened to.
"Honey," You immediately switched into your undercover tone, "you scared the crap out of me!"
Steve stepped closer, couldn't risk his voice being any louder than absolutely necessary to get you the information right then and there.
His frame in comparison to yours felt even bigger now, steam curling around him like vines. You'd blame the way your nipples hardened at the sight on the water.
“Fisk,” he whispered, barely audible over the spray. “He knows something’s off. Pretty sure we’re wired. The house is.”
Your breath hitched.
Absolutely having nothing to do with the fact that you were trying very hard not to stare at his— "Where?"
"Everywhere." He confirmed.
Water ran down both of you in steady streams, heat curling between your bodies, steam thickening the air until everything felt too close.
“Well,” you murmured, louder now, just enough for anyone listening to catch it, your tone dipping into something softer, more playful, “next time, maybe knock?”
Steve huffed out a quiet breath that could almost pass for a laugh, his forehead dipping closer to yours, but not touching, droplets of water falling from his hair onto you.
“Didn’t think you’d mind.” One of your hands braced lightly against his chest, the other gripping his arm as if for balance.
Your hand slid up to the nape of his neck, pulling the hair there enough to make him hiss. “Oh, I mind,” you said lightly, your fingers threading just a little deeper into the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re lucky I like you.”
You were pretty good at… faking it.
Night settled over the house smoothly, the sun bleeding into deep indigo slowly and surely until stars littered the sky and you all you could hear was the fair sound of nature beyond the glass.
The neighborhood dimmed in stages—porch lights flicking on one by one, warm squares of yellow glowing through wide, uncovered windows. Somewhere down the street, laughter carried faintly. A dog barked once, then twice, then went quiet again.
As your brain processed the information Steve had given you, you moved through the motions anyway.
Teeth brushed. Face washed. Lights turned off and on in the right order. The kind of routine that would look normal from the outside, mundane and unremarkable to anyone paying attention.
The thought sat in the back of your mind, somewhat panicked and loud, but also a constant, steady pressure.
You dried your hands slowly on a towel, eyes flicking briefly to the mirror. Your reflection stared back—hair dried and silky, skin still warm from the shower, expression carefully neutral.
Steve stood near the dresser, back half-turned to you, pulling a t-shirt over his head. The fabric stretched sinf— normallyacross his shoulders before falling into place, softening the sharp lines of him into something more… domestic.
You watched him through the mirror without meaning to, picking up a book, turning on his bedside lamp, and crawling under the covers of your bed, letting the light comforter rest on his legs and hips while he flipped through the pages with his back resting against his pillows and the headboard.
You bit your lip, thoughts blooming fast and messy under your skull, and flicked the lights in the bathroom off, walking towards your side of the bed.
Your short camisole shifted through the air as you moved, light and soft, brushing against your thighs. Steve's eyes immediately clocking your bare legs before he forced them onto the words in front of him.
You laid onto your side and closed the distance between you in one smooth motion, your body fitting against his side like that's where it was always supposed to be.
Your arm slid across his waist, your cheek pressed lightly against the plane of his pecs, and you felt the very warm, solid, real muscle of him under your face go completely still.
Not in any subtle way, you could feel the exact moment his brain short-circuited.
He turned his face just enough to look down and meet your gaze. His expression screamed an unfiltered "what the hell?"while yours softly said "we have to sell it."
He shifted, turning just enough so he wasn’t facing away from you anymore, his arm coming up—hesitant for half a second—before settling around you, his hand resting on your forearm, thumb tracing soothing patterns on the soft, moisturized skin.
As you laid there, the cogs in your brain turned. You bit the inside of your cheek lightly, the more he believes it, the quicker we get out.
You moved forward, your hand pressed against his chest, using him for leverage as you pushed yourself up, swinging one leg over his hips in a smooth, deliberate motion until you were straddling him.
The poor book slid uselessly to rest on the mattress on the other side of his body. You nuzzled your face into his neck, pretending to pepper kisses on the skin there, and Steve stiffened up.
His hands instinctively came up, not grabbing or even stopping you, just hovering at your waist like he didn’t know where they were allowed to go.
Your mouth lingered by his pulse point just long enough to make it convincing before you spoke, your breath hot against his skin. "Play along." You whispered.
You felt the tension in him—every muscle coiled, controlled, restrained in a way that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with the position you’d just put him in.
“Sweetheart,” he said, louder now, his tone shifting seamlessly, to something warmer, rougher, like it belonged to someone else. “You trying to kill me?”
From the outside, it sounded like a joke. A husband amused by his wife.
You tilted your head, letting your lips ghost just below his ear. “You just been working so much lately,” you murmured, just loud enough to carry.
His grip on you flexed, and he leaned into it.
“I know, baby, I know,” he said, voice dropping, threading something you hadn’t heard from him since he had your face pressed into a sparring mat through it as his hands settled more firmly at your hips, anchoring you there. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Your stomach flipped, shameful heat pooling low in your core even though you tried to ignore it and call it by a different name.
His fingers pressed just slightly, grounding, guiding, selling the illusion with an ease that made your pulse stutter.
Steve moved, fast as always, one second you were on top of him, the next your back hit the mattress, making it dip hard beneath you as he flipped you with practiced ease, your breath catching as his weight settled above you, caging you in without quite touching.
His face dipped toward yours, close enough that your noses almost brushed.
“What you’re doing,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm, controlled, “is reckless.”
Your fingers curled slightly into his shirt, heart beating too fast, and you tilted your head just enough to whisper back, your tone soft and teasing, so low he almost didn't hear it. “So is getting caught.”
You tilted your neck up, and your lips connected with his.
It had been weeks of little pecks, prim and proper kisses in front of your neighbors, just enough to sell it on the outside.
Holding his face in your hands and actually kissing Steve Rogers felt like a completely different experience.
His tongue licked into your mouth with an intention you never really expected from Steve. Specially a Steve that was faking it. Your hands roamed the plane of his shoulders, trying to make it seem like the actual rustling of sheets one would expect of a couple who was going to—
He should really take this shirt off.
And so your hands went to the hem of his white cotton shirt, pulling it up. Steve reluctantly let you take it off of him, leaving him only in the grey boxers that let you see he wasn't faking that much.
"Oh my God," You whispered. "Are you serious?" That was more of a hiss. Was he seriously getting hard right now?
"I know," He whispered back, annoyed, frustrated, "I know. Just shut up about it."
Oh.
He wanted you to shut up about it. He wanted you to—
The petty part of your brain took over, and before you couldn't think of a less reckless thing to do, you squeezed your legs tighter around him, bringing his bulge flush against your clothed pussy.
"O-oh—" Steve was surprised, not about the pettiness, but at the action itself. You bit your lip, almost proud of yourself, and tilted your hips up.
That earned you a scolding look.
"Mmm," you breathed, just loud enough to carry, your voice shifting instantly to a soft, breathy, higher pitched version of yourself. "Fuck, baby, right there."
Steve's ears were ringing. Mostly because he didn't know what to do with his hard cock rubbing up and down against you. “Relax,” you murmured against his jaw, barely moving your lips. “You sound like you’re filing paperwork.”
He huffed softly, turning it into something that passed. “Maybe I like paperwork,” he muttered.
You scoffed. “You do not.”
“You don’t know that.” He whined softly against you.
"You need to actually move your hips, Steve. Video needs to look like you're fucking your wife." You whispered in his ear.
It's not like he couldn't feel how wet you were, slick pressing through the cotton of your panties and onto his underwear, darkening a spot there.
“You’re unbelievable,” he breathed low, close to your ear.
“Say it louder,” you shot back quietly.
“You’re unbelievable,” he repeated, louder, tone shifting, like it meant something entirely different now.
Your heels dug into his ass cheeks, pulling him closer and closer to you, and closer and closer to the edge.
You could feel the length of him twitch with each pass of his hips, and you pictured the leaking head of him making a mess out of the inside of his boxers, precum slicking him all over.
“Okay—” he muttered quickly under his breath, breaking the moment before it could stretch too far. “We need a time frame. We can’t just—keep going forever.”
“Two minutes,” you whispered. “Make it believable.”
“Two minutes?” he echoed, actually offended. “That’s insulting.”
The thought of it sent heat down your core. His face was buried in your neck, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hands threaded through his hair. "Talk about me." Another perfectly placed thrust that nudged your clit. "'bout how I feel."
Steve grinded his teeth like he was fighting a mental battle between letting himself be consumed by this moment, and being proper.
You nudged him again with your heel.
"Nice and tight, sweetheart." He let his voice carry, surprisingly unwavering for how close he was. "Never get enough of your pussy."
What in the fuckity fuck?
Steve?
He almost said your name, your very real name, too lost in himself, letting his rhythm build up much too realistically, his thrusts deeper, the bulge now rubbing and nudging your clothed entrance as well.
Your could hear the sound of wet fabric shifting, your panties getting caught and letting one lip slip out of safety and closer to Steve's leaking cock.
"Frank," You said loudly, trying to catch his attention without success. "Frank." You tried again, more stern, being met with the same squeezed-shut eyes you tried to get an answer from. You dropped your voice low, hushed like a secret. "Steve."
That made him open his eyes, powder blue irises staring at you as his thursts hit a spot that had him moaning, stuttering over his own breath.
And spilling all inside his boxers, looking right into your eyes.
His hips stuttered, almost as if his body wanted to milk itself dry, and his breathing slowed.
You were speechless, big wide eyes looking up at him, genuinely not knowing what to say.
Both of you stared at each other in shock, horror, confusion as to why it felt so good to do that without someone who managed to get under your skin without even trying.
You stayed like that until you felt the warm trickle of his seed seep through the cotton of his boxers and onto the front of your panties.
Steve dropped back to his side of the bed, and both of you avoided each other's gaze, just staring at the ceiling.
"Are we—"
“…go to sleep,” you muttered.
Whatever Fisk needed proof of, seemingly he got it, since both you and Steve got invited the the biggest 4th of July bash of the neighborhood.
Right at the belly of the beast.
The whole backyard looked like something out of a magazine.
String lights draped across the perimeter, glowing warm against the deep navy of the night sky, fireworks already starting to crackle faintly in the distance.
The lawn stretched wide and immaculate, dotted with clusters of people holding drinks in delicate glasses, laughter spilling easily between them like nothing in the world could touch this place.
It was loud, busy, perfect, and underneath it all— wrong.
Steve had light wash jeans and a light blue polo on, you had a strapless summer dress and one of his linen shirts on, the shirt unbuttoned to give the air of a casual outing.
You stood near one of the long tables, fingers loosely wrapped around a Moscow Mule you hadn’t touched, your eyes scanning without looking like you were scanning. Steve was across the yard, pulled into a circle of men near the grill, one of them mid-story, the others laughing at something you couldn’t quite hear from this distance.
And there she was.
Blonde, tall, and much too interested in your— Steve.
Her hand landed on his arm like she’d been waiting for an excuse, your eyes narrowed at her as you shoved a piece of salami and cheese into your mouth.
“That's Sharon.” Julie’s voice chimed in beside you, far too cheerful for how observant she actually was. “She's new. Came to stay with her aunt a bit, they live a few strees back. Divorced. Which means she’s—”
“—looking,” you finished lightly, before finally taking a sip of your drink like you hadn’t already clocked every detail.
Julie laughed. “Exactly.”
Your eyes flicked back to Steve. He hadn’t moved away, hadn’t stepped back, hadn’t even noticed.
Of course he hadn’t.
He was listening—really listening—to whatever the man next to him was saying, nodding slightly, relaxed in that effortless way that made people lean in closer without thinking about it.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, lowering her voice just enough to feel conspiratorial. “If he's anything like Dex, he's clueless. They don’t even realize when they’re being flirted with.”
You hummed softly. "He is clueless, alright."
“He’s very charming,” Julie added, watching you now instead of them. “Frank, I mean.”
Your lips curved. “He has his moments.”
Julie giggled, and you finished downing your drink, making your way to him, wrapping a hand around his perfectly sculped bicep and turning on your smile to the sweetest setting possible.
His body reacted immediately, adjusting to your touch like it always belonged there. His gaze dropped to you, surprise flickering for half a second before smoothing into something softer.
“Hey,” he said, one hand coming up to rest at your hip without thinking about it.
“Hi,” you replied, tilting your head up toward him, your smile warm in a way that felt almost too real. “Sorry,” you said sweetly, not sounding sorry at all. “Am I interrupting?”
She blinked, then smiled tightly back at you. “Not at all.” Steve’s hand pressed slightly into your hip, a silent question that you answered it by leaning just a fraction closer into him.
“We were just talking about the neighborhood,” she continued.
“Were you?” you asked, your tone light, but your grip on Steve tightening just enough to be felt.
“Oh—yes,” she said, glancing briefly at him. “Frank was just telling us about his work.”
“Mm,” you hummed, eyes flicking up to his. “He works too much.”
Steve’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh, I do?”
“You do,” you said simply, sighing longingly, your fingers sliding absently against his side like it was second nature. “I barely see you anymore.”
Sharon laughed softly. “That’s a shame.” Steve lifted the beer up to his lips and took a swing.
“It is,” you agreed, smiling again. “But I make sure he makes up for it.”
Steve choked on his drink. Actually choked. Coughed once, quickly covering it with a laugh that didn’t quite hide the surprise.
His hand flexed at your hip. “Yeah,” he said, voice dropping just slightly as he looked down at you, something new threading through it. “I do.”
For a moment it didn't feel like pretending, but it also didn't feel real. It felt like a limbo much too similar to five years ago, when he first recruited you into SHIELD by accident.
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Colombia had been too hot. The humid, muggy weather made your skin sticky, a sheen coat of sweat all over your arms and legs, even though you were only wearing a white tanktop and a flowy, maxi floral skirt.
Music was bleeding from open windows, people crowding narrow streets, making it the kind of place where mistakes didn’t just cost you the mission.
They cost you everything.
You’d been handling it just fine, up until you weren’t. The intel had been wrong. Or incomplete. Or leaked.
You didn’t know which yet—only that the second you stepped into that dim, crowded cantina, something in your gut twisted. Too many eyes, too many men pretending to drink, too many sharp ears and even sharper looks.
You were planning an exit strategy, a way to get out of here with as few scratches and as many of these men killed. Mid counting how many thing you could use as a weapon, in walked a picture perfect specimen.
Muscles everywhere, blond hair lightened even more by the sun, the faintest sunburn across his nose and cheeks making his blue eyes stand out more.
You turned slightly, lifting your drink to your lips like you were just another woman trying to cool off, not someone seconds away from deciding how many people she might have to kill.
He clocked the men immediately.
And then he clocked you. His broad frame faked a smile at you and stepped quickly to stand beside you at the bar, hand resting on your hip.
“Don’t,” he muttered under his breath, pretending to try to get the bartender's attention.
“Don’t what?” you shot back just as quietly, adjusting your sunglasses on your head like you were annoyed at them and happy to see him, not seconds away from being cornered.
“They’re looking for someone,” he said.
“I know.” A beat where he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“They’re closing exits.”
And you responded through gritted teeth and a smile. “I noticed.” You let your body rest closer to his, feeling the heat radiating off of him.
Outside, thunder and lightning started, and a summer storm came pouring down.
“Babe,” you said, loud enough to carry, tilting your head up at him like you were teasing. “You said one drink.”
He leaned into you, his hand sliding from your waist to your lower back, pulling you closer in a way that felt practiced.
“Yeah?” he shot back easily. “Thought you wanted to see more of the place.”
“Oh, I do,” you laughed lightly, fingers curling into his shirt. “Just… from inside a bedroom window right now." You leaned in closer, lowering your voice just enough to make it look intimate, like you were sharing something private instead of tracking his every movement.
“Relax your shoulders,” you murmured.
He huffed softly—almost a laugh, almost something else—and adjusted just slightly, his grip tightening at your lower back like he was settling into the role instead of fighting it.
A beat passed between you—quick, sharp, charged—and then he leaned in closer, his mouth ghosting just along your temple.
“Storm’s our out,” he whispered. “We gotta go.”
“Come on,” you said, tugging gently at his shirt, turning your body into his as thunder cracked loud enough to rattle the windows. “I am not ruining my hair for this.”
“Tragic,” he murmured, letting you pull him toward the back hallway.
The rain hit hard the second you stepped out of the main room—heavy, sudden, loud enough to drown out most of the noise behind you. The narrow corridor smelled like damp wood and cheap liquor, dimly lit and barely used.
Perfect.
Your hand stayed fisted in his shirt as you stumbled slightly—just enough to sell it—as he caught you, his arm tightening instinctively around your waist.
“Careful, sweetheart.” he said, louder now, for anyone who might still be listening. “You’re gonna slip.”
The back door burst open under his hand.
Rain poured down in sheets, warm and relentless, soaking the edges of your skirt instantly as you both stepped out into the alley behind the cantina.
Steve looked around to make sure no one followed, he kept you closer than necessary as you moved, your bodies angled into each other like you were shielding yourselves from the storm instead of disappearing into it.
One block, then another, until you were far away and safe in the back alley of the Sofitel. Your clothes were soaked, as were his, your shirt basically see through, you kept moving, pulling him down the short hallway and into the first unlocked door you found—some storage room or unused guest space, it didn’t matter.
The door shut behind you with a soft click. Steve walked in last, and you didn't put distance between you two, though right now looking at him through wet lashes you wish you did.
His eyes reflected the gloomy sky outside, his lips were pink and plump, and you felt yourself being drawn closer and closer to him, as did he.
The storm outside cracked again, lightning flashing briefly through the thin curtains, illuminating the space in stark white for half a second, loud thunder taking you out of your trance, Steve jerking away like he was burned.
"I, uh… I think we lost them." Your voice was shaky and unsure.
“Not bad,” he added, quieter now, his eyes flicking over your face like he was reassessing something.
You scoffed lightly. “High praise.”
PRESENT
“Fireworks are about to start,” someone called from across the yard.
And just like that, the moment broke, and your attentions turned to the mission at hand: while everyone is distracted, get into Fisk's office and copy all of his intel.
Steve leaned down slightly as people shifted away in the direction of the fireworks, his lips brushing near your ear, voice low. “You’re laying it on thick.”
“Am I?” you murmured back, sly smirk playing on your lips.
“A little.”
You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "You should go for the office. I'll keep watch."
Steve looked at you like he wanted to say something, but nodded and snuck away, your eyes immediately making sure all persons of interest were accounted for and not in the office.
The party swelled around you.
Fireworks cracked overhead in bursts of red and gold, laughter spilling across Fisk’s perfectly manicured lawn, glasses clinking, music humming low beneath it all.
Steve had been gone for about five minutes when you noticed Dex was gone mid conversation with Claire and her husband Matthew. You saw the little flop of blonde hair make its way into the house and your blood ran cold.
Steve.
“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said lightly, lifting your empty glass as proof, bee-lining up the stairs on the porch and to the kitchen.
You moved like you weren’t tracking footsteps that weren’t yours, counting seconds, mapping distance in your head.
You slipped inside through the side door, heels soft against polished floors, your breath steady even as your pulse kicked harder.
You moved faster, turning the corner just in time to see the office door slightly ajar, light spilling out onto the hallway, and footsteps approaching from the opposite direction.
You pushed the door open and slipped inside, Steve standing by the big mahogany table with a thumbdrive pluggesd into the desktop, downloading everything.
“What—”
“Dex,” you cut him off, already crossing the room. “Coming.” His expression shifted instantly, worry, anxiety, combat.
A shadow passed the crack of the door and you closed the distance between you, pushing yourself to sit on top of the table and pulled Steve to stand between your legs. Your hands grabbed his shirt, yanking him down toward you hard enough to make him stumble.
He exhaled harshly the second your lips touched, tasting the vanilla macadamia flavor of your lipgloss. Your tongue licked into his mouth and one of his hands found the plane of your back, the other bracing against the desk behind you as he backed you further into it, the impact soft but enough to sell it.
“Mm—” you exhaled softly, the sound slipping out before you could stop it.
Your fingers thread through his hair as you sighed against him, losing yourself in the cedarwood of his cologne, the taste of beer on his tongue, and—
The door creaked open lgithly with someone's breathy "oh." coming through at the sight.
You didn't pull away, didn't even flinch. If anything, you leaned in more, your body pressing fully into his, your mouth lingering just long enough to make the moment undeniable.
You heard a the sound of someone clearing their throat, and that made both of you break apart. Your lips brushed his once more before you turned your head, like you’d just noticed her. “Oh—” you said, a little breathless, but smiling.
“Sharon,” your eyes widened slightly when you looked behind you, a flush creeping into your expression like you’d been caught.
Her gaze drifted from his hands on you to the hem of your summer dress, pulled up and draped high on your thighs, then up to your hands in his hair and Steve's face — his expression a mix of very confused, flustered, and fucked out.
Steve cleared his throat, stepping back just slightly, like he was trying to recover something that had already slipped.
“We were just—”
“—busy,” you finished easily, sliding off the desk but not moving far from him.
“…right,” she said after a second, her lips pressing into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Well, enjoy the, uh… the party."
You stifled a laugh, biting your lip, as she walked away leaving the door open behind her. You hopped off the desk as Steve got his brain working again.
“What the hell was that?” His voice cut through it, low and sharp.
You shrugged. "Saved your ass, you're welcome." You smoothed the hem of your dress against your thighs and walked around the desk, making your way out the door as Steve hushedly called out for you, swiming the thumb drive into his pocket before following you out of the house.
Your heels hit the pavement in sharp, even beats, your jaw locked, your eyes fixed straight ahead like if you didn’t look back, he wouldn’t follow.
Fuck him and his long legs that caught up to you as soon as you reached your lawn.
You stormed into your kitchen, pushing the door closed quicky to slam it behind you, but making it hit Steve on the shoulder as he crowded the space behind you. “Hey—” he pushed still, stepping closer. “No, seriously. What was that?”
You still gave him nothing, your jaw tightened. You stood with your back to the kitchen island, fingers gripping the marble, biting your own cheek. Your gaze stayed anywhere but him.
“That wasn’t about getting caught,” he said. “You knew she—” Then it seemed to dawn on him. “You kissed me to make her jealous.” His voice was incredulous, almost like he solved a decade long mystery right then and there. "You were jealous."
You scoffed, still not meeting his eye. "Jealous? Over you? Plea—"
He crowded you even more now, bending down to look for your gaze and force you to meet his, sly smile playing on his lips. "You were jealous."
You huffed, finally looking into his eyes, sunlight playing on his face making the blue just a tad lighter. Steve had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, almost waiting for a response from you.
For what it felt like a second and a day all at once, your brain went numb.
And then your hands were on each side of his face, bringing his lips to crash into yours.
Steve's lips were warm against your mouth in the same way they were minutes ago. He stepped forward, towering over you making you tilt your head up to keep the kiss going, his hands grabbing your hips as he pressed you against the counter.
He licked into your mouth and your hands fell to the nape of his neck, his shoulders, and finally his arms.
Steve leaned over, pushing you back further, until you had no more oxygen to burn in your lungs and you broke the kiss, making him kiss your jaw, below your ear, and down your neck. "You had no reason to be jealous, you know."
He grinded his hips against yours, letting you feel the length of him hardening by the minute. "'M not jealous." You felt underwater, dizzy, borderline having fuzzies in your vision.
Steve chuckled against your neck, the warm breath making shivers run down your spine, his hands dropping to graze outside of your thighs. "Mmhmm." His right hand brushed over your thigh and made it way to your core, tickling the skin of your inner thigh.
His fingers quickly found the wet spot on the front of your underwear, kissing his way back towards your lips. When he pressed deep circled into it, he felt you sigh into his mouth.
"Steve… People might see…"
"Don't care" he pressed his fingers harder, until your hips were bucking to get more friction, and you were whining against him. Words came muffled against your mouth. "Not jealous, huh? Didn't want me a single bit, right?"
You scoffed despite youself, "You're the one that came into your pants the other day."
That did it.
Skin to skin. His rough fingers sliding through your soaked slit, dragging your arousal across your folds, teasing you right at the entrance. You broke off mid-sentence, a soft whimper catching in your throat.
His thumb easily found your clit, and one of your hands squeezed around his bicep while the other pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck, your moans getting breathier and breathier by the minute.
His fingers thrusted in and out of you bringing you to an edge so close you could taste it, letting out little pants by the crook of his neck, inflating Steve's ego, making more blood rush south. "Wanna try that again?"
He curled them just right, your slick coating his knuckles as your hips twitched against his hand.
Your head fell back, lips parting on a desperate moan. "N-not jealous…" through gritted teeth, making him click his tongue.
"Suit yourself." And just like that, his fingers were gone, slick mess on your thighs and an unsatisfied beast inside of you.
"Steve, what the—"
He pulled away the slightest bit and bent down, lacing his arm around your legs and throwing you over his shoulder, walking away in the direction of the stairs.
Steve nudged your bedroom door open once you got upstairs and flopped you down on the bed, making you bounce on the mattress.
He hovered over you, settling between your legs and rubbing the heat of him against you, while one if his hands snuck to the back of your dress and pulled the zipper down. He pulled the clothing item down your body as he kissed the same path, and soon you were only in his shirt and a thong.
Your legs opened to accommodate him further, thighs falling to your sides, and he slotted himself chest to mattress, lips barely an inch away from your pussy. Steve kissed your inner thigh once, then again, and your fingers threaded through his hair.
"She's wetter than that night," He spoke softly, but his voice had a dark tone to it, blue eyes staring up at you. "Can't blame me from coming in my boxers when," and a bite to your flesh. "you were grinding a wet spot onto me, honey."
Fuck him and that nickname.
His middle finger came to curl beyond the hem, pulling the sticky wet fabric down your thighs, and both of his thumbs spread your lips, watching your hole clench around nothing.
His gaze once again reached yours, almost asking for permission.
You didn't seem to be able to find it in you to say anything, not a single word but a quiet "Please." leaving your lips.
The second his tongue touched your slit, you were all the way back in that mission in Colombia. Wet, horny, and almost begging him.
At the first taste of you, one would think Steve got possessed, quickly settling further into the mattress and wrapping his arms around your thighs, holding them open. "F-fuck, Steve—"
He groaned against you, the vibration going through you like electricity through water. His tongue traced your entrance, nose nudging your clit, and your back arched off the bed slightly, pushing your hips closer to his face.
Steve's fingers pressed against the tops of your thighs with bruising strength, not that you minded.
Not at all.
He licked zigzag patterens up and down your slit, and then would circle your clit with his tongue, sucking the nerves into his mouth and flicking it. "O-oh my God."
He chuckled into you, "Stop squirming."
Like you could help it. Like it was your damn fault he let Sharon touch him and flirt with him and all but forced you to make sure everyone bought this sham of a marriage.
"Easier— fuck me, easier said than done, Rogers." Your nails scratched deeper into his scalp.
Steve angled his head differently so he could tense his tongue and fuck you while his thumb moved from your thigh to rub quick circles onto your clit.
Your thighs closed around his head, eyes squeezing shut as you heard him breathe heavy against you. Steve's other hand landed on your breast, kneading the skin there, pinching and pulling a nipple drawing a mewl out of you.
"Steve, Steve, I'm— fuck, I'm gonna—"
You really shouldn't have told him, though he'd know you were close judging by the little flutters of your walls around his tongue.
He pulled away harshly, chin slick and lips swollen, his hair a mess from you running your fingers through it.
He stood by the foot of the bed, stripping down to nothing watching your dumbfounded fucked out expression. Your hair was matted, your nipples were hard, and there was a wet spot on the white comforter under you.
In front of you, though, stood 230lbs of pure, unadultered, perfectly sculped by God, blond 100% American Prime Steve Rogers.
Standing naked, tall, thick and proud.
And hard.
Your mouth salivated at the sight, looking at the leaking head of him appear and disappear inside his fist with each slick stroke he gave himself. Steve caught your ankle with his other hand, and pulled you to the edge of the bed, your toes touching the soft carpet of the bedroom.
He turned you around, fingers gripping the linen of his shirt you had on, dragging it down your arms but not over your wrists, twisting the fabric around his own fist.
And just like that, you were face and shoulders down on the mattress with your wrists tied behind you, feeling him rub the head of his cock up and down your puffy slit, coating himself in your wetness.
Steve heard a muffled whine from you, any words being impacted by the fabric of the bedding, "What was that, sweetheart?" He leaned over you, the tip of him notching just a smidge further.
You turned your head to the side. "Steve, please…"
He clicked his tongue again. "No, you didn't want me, remember? Think I shouldn't even be doing this to you."
He motioned to pull out and you whined louder. "She— she was all o-over you…" Tears pricked your eyes from the pressure in your chest, from the ache between your legs, from the desperation of being kept at the edge.
“Steve, please put it in…”
"Yeah?" He gave you the cue to keep going, pushing in unbearably slow and barely any.
You nodded against the mattress. "Pissed me off." You gulped. "Please, please don't leave me like this…"
"All you had to do was stop being such a brat about it."
And then he thrust in enough to knock the air out of your lungs. The squelch of his cock pushing into you was obscene. And in your mind every inch he pushed after that thrust had one though going through your head:
There's more?!
"Oh God…"
That made Steve chuckle. "Just me, baby."
"Is— is it all in?" Your voice trembled, and if you had a mirror you'd see Steve's evil smirk as he dragged your wrists down to where your bodies connected, arching your back and hurting you with the stretch, only to wrap your delicate hands around what was left of him.
"Barely half." He grunted.
You whimpered, both in fear and anticipation, and Steve took the queue to push the rest of the way through, until your hand was flat on his pelvis, and then he let you rest against the mattress again.
"So fucking good." He gave a couple tentative thrusts. "Can feel you gripping me like you don't wanna let me go."
You moaned at the feel of him hitting that sweet spot inside of you, making your eyes roll. "So— hah! Good, Steve…"
After he felt your pussy get used to the size of him, that when he really stopped playing nice.
You could feel every ridge of him, every vein, the length of him pulsing and pulsing inside of you, throbbing against the spongy spot that made you see stars.
“Steve, please, please let me—“
Another harsh thrust interrupted you. “Tell me the truth then.”
You whimpered. The bastard was really going to make you admit it.
As you tried to think through it, brainless as you were, he slowed down, and down, until you could feel the pulse of his cock inside of you just as he could feel your walls flutter around him.
You whimpered, cheeks blushing at the thought. “I was jealous! I was jealous, okay?!” You pushed your hips into him, chasing friction harder, deeper.
“She thought she could have you and— and—“ He picked up the pace, your brain mush as your neck strained to keep your voice from being muffled. “And you’re my— Oh— oh my God!”
“Yeah?” Steve leaned over you, fingers finding your clit with ease. “I’m your what?”
You could cry. You could cry right no— oh you had tears streaming from your eyes onto the bedding. “Steve…”
His eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“That’s right, I’m your Steve.” His fingers picked up speed as did his hips, lips kissing your shoulder blade. “Come for me, pretty girl. Come all over my cock.”
“Mmmmngghhh—“ your vision went white, your body clenching tight around him and pulsing, as your moans got drowned out outside by the fireworks still going.
Steve slammed his hips deeper into you, to the point of almost painful, muttering curse words in sequence of “fuck, fuck, fuck.” until you felt him spill thick ropes of cum inside of you, filling you up until it dripped onto the floor.
As you both caught your breaths, you heard the wet schlick of him pulling out, dropping himself on the bed with a bounce.
After a minute, you spoke. "There's gonna be so much paperwork to explain all this..."
He looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist, turning to you with that boyish smile of his, sheen coat of sweat on his chest and hairline. “Got time for a couple more rounds before all that. You tapped out?”
You smirked at him, using your arms to push yourself up, hands on his chest for leverage as you straddled him, slick pussy on top of his hardening cock.
“I could do this all day, Cap.”
final thoughts: this started as me and Maddie just thirsting over the shower scene, and then... yeah... heh
See You Like That
Ship: Childhood Frenemy/Roommate!Jungkook x Bitch!Reader
Description: Your entire life, you only saw Jeon Jungkook as a nuisance you couldn’t escape from. But what happens after the two of you move in together, and the dreams that plague you force you to see him in a different light?
Warnings: Extremely Mean Hard Dom!Jungkook, BDSM, Brat!Reader, Masochist!Reader, Sadist!Jungkook, Dub-Con, Extreme Face-Fucking, Oral (m. & f. receiving), Extreme Degradation, Extreme Humiliation, Facial, Face-Fucking Again (a different sort of way), Rimming (f. receiving), Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Scenes, Like these scenes are actually crazy, Slapping, Spanking, Fingering, Pussy-Slapping, Spit, Rough Sex, Praise, Choking, Manhandling, Restraining, Hate Sex, Angry Sex, Possessiveness, Masturbation, Sex-Toys, Squirting, Dacryphilia, Hair Pulling, Jungkook has a HUUUUUGE Cawhk, Threesome? (Ft. Taehyung), Reader is a bitch because I love them
Word Count: 30.3k
A/N: This was an absolute monster to write, but it had to be done.
The first 11 days of your life were absolutely glorious.
You slept as much as you want, ate as much as you want, basked in the light of your mother's arms without a care in the world. They were probably the best days of your life, not that you could remember them. Nothing threatened to disturb your peace.
And then Jeon Jungkook came along.
Oh, both of your mothers were absolutely thrilled. Having been life-long best friends, they had every intention of staying together until their dying days. They meant it, too. Living next door to each other, getting pregnant within the next year— though that part was much closer together than originally anticipated. Luck is what they assumed.
When both had a bundle of joy to call their own, who they planned to raise together, they were elated beyond belief.
"They're going to be the best of friends, forever and ever, just like us!"
Ha. Little did they know.
Sure, you got along with Jungkook when you were little kids. The two of you would take baths in the same sink together as infants, attended the same preschool. He would be the one who yanked you off school bullies during recess, dragging you off as your fists flew towards whatever boy had been picking on him. He was your partner during every field day, without even having to ask.
But then some form of resentment grew.
Jungkook was always the golden child of you two. Never got into fights, always got straight A's, never got sent to the principal's office. You, on the other hand, always found yourself in some sort of trouble. You couldn't help but always say the wrong thing, or find yourself in the wrong place, wrong time. And who was the one who always had to drag you out? Golden Boy Jeon Jungkook. Despite being almost two weeks younger than you, he ended up being the one mainly in charge, he ended up being the responsible one, he was the one who had to look out for you. It was supposed to be the other way around! What about that bullshit saying that women matured faster than men?
Somehow you proved the be the exception, and having Jungkook always come to your rescue made you absolutely livid as the years went on.
"I don't need your help!" God, how many times had you screamed those words at him?
Suddenly he was the one you were letting your anger out on, with your angry quips and quick insults. Didn't help that you knew him inside and out, having grown up with him. At first he'd just take it, letting you blow your fuse and get it out of your system. But then he started throwing punches back. Not literal ones, no, it never got to that level. But he'd have something sharp to say to cut you down when you were making your own attempts, no longer silently taking the full force that was your rage at both him and yourself.
The worst part though was he never left either.
You were stuck together, whether either of you liked it or not. He probably wanted to leave you a million times by then, but due to the pressure of your parents, you were now his responsibility. Always in the same classes, always enrolled at the same summer camps. Living twenty feet away from each other. There was no escape. You and Jungkook were going to a part of each other's lives forever it looked like, and there was nothing you could do about it. So every day you'd walk together from school. Every weekend your parents would have a joint dinner together. Every family vacation, every cruise, the two of you were forced to share a room.
Your parents thought you'd both grow out of this festering resentment. Eventually they accepted that it was simply some sort of sibling dynamic. Sure, you guys bickered constantly, you both swore you couldn't stand each other's guts, but you both still cared. You couldn't help it. You hadn't known a life without Jungkook, and he didn't know a life without you. It was hard to imagine. No matter what happened between you two, you guys never left each other's sides.
You were finally able to gain some distance when you both went off to college. Granted, it was the same one, the only one close enough and affordable enough for your family, and Jungkook had gotten a full ride there, so it was no brainer. But you didn't live in the same dorms, and you were able to make separate friends who didn't know you two as being practically conjoined twins. You had gotten sick of hearing it in the hallways.
"Oh she's basically his sister!" That's what so many would say when they questioned why the two of you were so close. You couldn't stand it. It was bad enough being tied to him so closely already, the thought of actually being related made you want to barf.
You did imagine however that Jungkook was the closest you'd ever get to a brother. He was protective at the most annoying and inconvenient times, like when he insisted on following you to your first house party and refused to let you drink or take a hit of anything. He was super annoying, like when he gloated over his college entrance exams and their scores, rubbing in your face just how much better he was than you, at everything, always. Just another thing to add to the list of things you hated about him.
When the two of you entered university, though, you finally let your wings spread. No more being forced to go to his lacrosse games. No more cramped car rides in the backseat where both of you would stomp on each other's toes and try to get more leg room. You were independent of him. You could do what you want, when you want, and Jungkook didn't have a single say.
Sure, you went a little wild your freshman year. Stayed out until 3-4 AM almost every night, spent many nights in guys' dorms, got a little too wasted at some parties and experienced a black out or two. But they was your lessons to learn, and no one was keeping you from learning them. You kept yourself moderately in check though. No bar fights, no spats with your professors. You couldn't care less what Jungkook was doing. Little nerd was probably skipping any party he was invited to, nose probably buried in his books. Mr. Perfect probably had too much school work to worry about you, either. Didn't matter how many tattoos he used to fill his new sleeve over the years, he was just as uncool as when he threw up in the touch tank during a summer camp field trip.
After you cleaned up your act a little more as university went on, getting the last late nights and parties out of your system, you had to work a little harder to bring your GPA up to par. You hadn't been flunking your classes first year or anything, but you had too many C's for your liking. If Jungkook were still hovering over your shoulder, he'd probably smack you on your head and force you to read the textbook front to back until you set the curve.
You'd see Jungkook in the library occasionally. He was never alone, always with friends. Go figure. Everyone just loooooved Jungkook his entire life. Those stupid big eyes and bunny teeth always made them suckers. He was always popular, getting along with everyone, gentlemanly and one of the bros, even in high school. You were the only one who saw past his facade, saw how nasty he could truly be. The real him.
No matter how much time had passed, you knew he was a resentful little snot underneath.
Neither of you would disturb each other's peace, though. You'd just share glances when you were both in the dining hall, or grunt when you passed by in the hallways. When each summer came around you'd both be too busy with your new groups of friends for your parents to even drag you back together, only the occasional family dinner forcing you at the same table. You two would barely acknowledge each other during it, your respective families filling the other in on the other's lives.
Jungkook made Dean's list. Big surprise.
You had a trip with a few girls during spring break. Big whoop.
You did your best to keep it to a minimal. The few words you did exchange alone were biting at best. You were enjoying your freedom from his annoying face, endless charisma, and perfect grades.
But then university came to an end, and both of you found yourselves moving back to your home town.
It was another dinner with your folks and his, and you were pretty sick of still having to live with your parents. After living separately from them for four years, something felt a little humiliating about being back under their roof. Sure, you could get an apartment, but it was so expensive in this area. You definitely weren't being paid enough to live on your own with your entry-level job, even at the apartments in the shadier areas.
"How's the apartment hunting going, sweetie?" Jungkook's mom asked, a saccharine smile on her lips. Joint dinners were something you were forced to go to again, now that you were back. Which meant having to see him a minimum of every weekend.
You shrugged, nudging at the piece of meat on your plate with your fork. "I dunno. I looked at another in Frazier—"
His mother gasped. "Frazier! Oh honey, no! You can't live there, that's such a bad part of town. You know, crime's gotten much worse since you kids have been gone. A young lady like yourself shouldn't be living there alone." As if a lightbulb went off in her head, her eyes danced to Jungkook, who was busy devouring the steak your dad had helped cook. "Say, Kook, sweetheart, how's your search been going?"
"Hm?" He did his best to swallow down whatever meat was still in his mouth. You dipped your spoon in the peas, eating them and you prepared for him to drone on about whatever success he inevitably found. "It's, uh, hard. Not a lot of studio apartments that are exactly affordable."
No surprise there.
While you had immediately entered the main workforce for a low tier job after graduation, Jungkook had moved up to continuing grad school, which meant he only had the availability for part-time. It wasn't a surprise he was strapped for cash.
"Say," your dad started, "I have an idea."
Oh no. Oh no no no. You knew exactly where this was leading.
"What if Y/N and Jungkook get an apartment together?"
No!
Your mother clapped her hands, eyes lit up with delight at the prospect. "Oh that sounds like a wonderful idea! It'd be perfect. I normally wouldn't be a fan of the idea of Y/N living with a man, but Jungkook—"
"Mom," you choked on your peas, slamming your fist down on your chest to try and get them to go down. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Oh hush now, you've been complaining for months about having to live with us. Besides, Jungkook can keep an eye on you and make sure you're not up to any trouble," your mother scolded.
"This would be perfect! You two can split the rent. Much better than living with strangers," his mother joined in. Clearly their minds were already made up.
You glanced to Jungkook, eyes pleading for once as you waited for his disapproval. He ignored you, though, shrugging before taking another bite of steak. "Sure. We can talk about it alone later."
You wanted your chair to sink into the Earth and swallow you whole, then and there.
—
Jungkook closed the door to his childhood bedroom, hands in his pockets as he turned to you. Dinner had been at his parents' tonight, with your dads grilling the steaks and your moms picking out the wine. Your eyes scoured the room you were all too familiar with, the same old lacrosse posters and gaming equipment you were used to. You wanted to find some form of mess. An open ramen cup, strewn about clothes, anything to give you an excuse that living with Jeon Jungkook was an impossible, terrible proposition. Perfect as he was though, everything was clean as a whistle, far more organized than your own abode.
"This is a terrible idea, isn't it? We should just go down there and tell them we absolutely cannot, right?" You laughed it away, glancing to Jungkook for confirmation.
He doesn't seem so amused, though. "I dunno. I've been looking to move out for a while, honestly."
Your eyes widened with disbelief. "You aren't seriously considering this, are you?"
"Why not? It seems practical," he shrugged. A sly grin started to form on his lips. "Don't tell me you're scared of living with a man, Y/N."
Your face twisted into a scowl. "Ugh, I can't stand you. You're hardly a man, anyways. I mean, c'mon, space themed comforter? Really?"
"You still have those glowing star stickers on your ceiling."
"Those—" You snap your fingers at him, taking a step closer. "—are for nostalgia."
"And mine aren't?"
"We can't even stand being in the same room together for five minutes!" You feel yourself regressing back into a teenager, as though you were on fire whenever Jungkook was in your vicinity. "How're we supposed to live together in a tiny, cramped apartment?"
"What, you can't even pretend to act like an adult?" He quirked a condescending brow at you.
You felt your face heat up at his words. "I can." You crossed your arms, groveling. "Are you just desperate to live with me all of the sudden?"
He scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. I just don't want to live with a stranger. My first dorm I got randomly assigned a roommate, and it did not go well. At least I know there aren't any surprises that come with you."
Your jaw dropped. "You really are considering this."
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his arms crossing too, now. "Are you?"
Your mind spun as you gave it some serious thought. Jungkook was definitely a lot cleaner than most men you knew. And he typically was lights out by midnight, which meant no keeping you up, and you knew he was a heavy enough sleeper for you to be able to roam about in the late hours without waking him up. Hell, with him being an early riser and you being a night owl, you might hardly see each other. Besides, it's been years since the two of you would constantly go at it. More than now. Maybe you could mature into being civilized, well mannered adults. Mainly you, but still.
"Lets set up some ground rules first," you said. "No messes in shared spaces."
"Duh."
"And no leaving the bathroom seat up!" No doubt that the best you two could afford would be a two bedroom, one bathroom situation.
"Fine." Jungkook tilted his head. "Any other requests, princess?"
You glowered at the stupid pet name, wanting to wither him on the spot with your glare. "How often do you bring people over?"
A slow smile curls on his lips again. "Oh, well isn't that personal?"
"Ew not like that! Ugh, I don't even want to think about you doing that." You shook the thought from your head. "How often do you have friends over?"
The smile was still plastered on his face. "Oh, none spend the night if that's what your worried about. And we'll keep it down."
"Your friends," you emphasized.
"I was talking about my friends." He laughed at your expression. "You should get your mind out of the gutter."
Your mouth parted in surprise. "I wasn't— oh my god, you're so infuriating! Just don't have your friends yelling in the living room past 1 AM, got it? I will have no problem shouting at them to keep it down." You rolled your eyes. "Like a nerd like you gets laid anyways."
"Are you worried now?"
You guffaw at the accusation. "Me? Worried? For what, you? Please. You ended up having to take me to homecoming, remember?"
"Yeah, because our parents wanted us too. It's not like I wasn't asked." That was news to you. "And how often are you planning to bring people over?"
"Occasionally."
"Then you make sure they keep it down by 11 PM, and we'll have no problem."
Your brows furrowed. "11? Even on weekends? I was being generous with you, old man. What, don't tell me you fall asleep at 9 usually?"
"Calling me old when you're the older one?" He laughed. "That's right, I forget with how childish you act."
That really made your face burn. You slap the wall next to you, frustrated. "You make it so hard to like you sometimes."
"The feeling's mutual." He meets your gaze, eyes narrowed. "Think you're up for acting like an adult for once in your life? Or do you still want to be coddled by Mommy and Daddy?"
You glared at him, the scowl now permanently etched on your face as your hand slid down the wall. "Fine," you huffed. "Let's do this."
—
Finding an apartment ended up being much easier now that you were going off of two budgets. Sure, most of the realtors that were helping you thought you two were a couple, and you were both adamant and offended each time you were accused. That was annoying. Plus you'd bicker like a married couple the entire process. This area isn't safe enough for him, this apartment was too far of a commute for you, so on and so forth.
Finally, though, the two of you came to an agreement on a nice two bedroom, one bathroom apartment. It wasn't the biggest, and you'd have absolutely no luck avoiding Jungkook in these cramped quarters, but it was affordable and got you out of your parents' place at least. It had a gym facility for Jungkook to apparently use, and it was very close to a convenience shop, which you liked.
Living with Jungkook had some ups and downs. You had to spend more on groceries now because Jungkook ate like it was a competition, and yet he still had the nerve to scold you when you stole some of his snacks. He shouldn't need the sweets anyways, with how often he was apparently at the gym downstairs. If anything you were looking out for him by making sure he doesn't undo whatever progress he's making. One plus was that he was a neat freak. Anything you left in the living room would end up being organized neatly, and he had a much better eye for interior decoration than you would've suspected looking at his childhood bedroom.
Living with a man wasn't all that bad.
Until you were reminded he was a man.
He came back into the apartment, grunting when he saw you on your laptop at the kitchen counter. You didn't even grunt back a response, glancing at him briefly before you were left taken aback.
Jungkook had just gotten back from the gym, drenched in sweat and wearing a tight, black compression shirt that left little to the imagination. When had he gotten so buff? He usually only wore hoodies in the house, how had you not noticed? You remembered being so annoyed when his growth spurt hit and he began to tower over you, but now he was... wider. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. It was as though he were shaped like a Dorito chip. The shirt was damn sinful, too. You could practically make out every muscle and line of his abs. Since when had he had tits? They were massive! Surely the shirt was doing all the work. Surely he wasn't built like a pro boxer. You had seen him during countless family trips to the beach. Even when he was at his most active at lacrosse in high school, he was a skinny twerp that could barely hold you up enough to throw you into the water, ruining your hair.
And the sweat. The way his hair was plastered to his forehead, the beads of sweat trickling down his neck and into the shirt. His biceps that seemed too big to be contained by such tiny material, bulging and tensing as he raised the water bottle to his lips and took greedy gulps, Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat.
Thank God he was wearing sweats at least, because now you were wondering if his thighs were secretly the size of tree trunks, threatening to squeeze and pop whatever was in between. Since when had his body transformed into being exactly your type?
It suddenly dawned on you that Jungkook was, in fact, possibly attractive. Not that you were attracted to him personally, no way.
"Why're you so quiet?"
You're snapped out of your trance, your eyes flitting back to Jungkook's as he gives you a suspicious glare, done with his water.
"Oh, um..." That's right, you usually had some nasty comment to say whenever he got back home. "B-Back from the gym?"
"Obviously," he snorted, stepping forward to lean against the countertop, sliding away his water bottle. Fuck, don't look at his tits again, don't look at his biceps as he leans on his elbows! Don't look at every vein that's popping out beneath his skin, like he's a mosquitos wet dream! "Wouldn't kill you to go now and then, you know."
You rolled your eyes. "I'm already blessed with a perfect body, thank you very much."
His hard stare continued, watching as you tried to shirk your gaze away from his impeccable form. "Is something up?"
"No! Just... need a distraction." You huffed under your breath. "Clearly."
"Distraction, huh?" A small smirk appeared. "My friend Taehyung wants me and some of the other guy to go out clubbing tonight."
"You club?" You had a hard time imagining Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes out partying, but you were having a hard time imagining anything besides what was beneath that shirt at the moment.
"Yeah. You can come if you want. Though I'm sure you'd much rather—"
"Sure, why not." You couldn't stand the thought of Jungkook bringing a girl home tonight and having to listen. And looking like that? It was bound to happen. The impossible now seemed very possible, you were going to cock-block even if it killed you.
Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, really?"
"Sure, it's been a while since I went out. I need a distraction anyways." You shut your laptop closed and stretched, needing to close your eyes for a second to make it easier to not ogle your roommate. "Unless there's a problem with that?"
"No! No, I just... wasn't expecting you to say yes, that's all." He lifted from the countertop and pulled out a towel next to his water bottle, rubbing the sheen of sweat off his neck much to your dismay. "We usually go out at 10, that cool?"
"Isn't that a bit past your bedtime?" You chuckled at the thought. "Sure you can get your morning run in?"
"I'll get my cardio in one way or another," he said before slinking off.
Now that you didn't like to hear.
—
Jungkook's friends were nice enough, three guys about your age named Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok.
They were all attractive, same level as Jungkook, and you tried to think back to all of those friends you used to spot Jungkook with at university. Were they all in the same league, the way attractive people tend to hang out with their own kind, leaving you uggos to your own devices to stare up at them in awe? Did everyone know Jungkook was hot except you? Were you just an idiot who had been blinded by knowing him before Acutane and Invisalign?
They all treated you cordially, and when Taehyung made a sly comment he was quickly scolded by Jungkook, who said, "Don't even think about it."
Pity, Taehyung was pretty hot. You wouldn't mind taking him for a ride if you weren't going to be preoccupied making sure Jungkook didn't see any action.
Perfect Jungkook agreed to be the DD of the night for you, thankfully. You had never seen him drunk before, and part of you was admittedly disappointed you wouldn't get to see it tonight. What kind of drunk was he? Giggly, happy drunk? Angry, loud mouthed drunk? Nah, that definitely didn't fit.
Horny drunk?
Maybe it was a good thing he was the one driving.
The club was loud, as expected, with bodies on bodies pressed against each other closer to the DJ booth. Jungkook leaned in to your ear so you could hear him, and you got a hearty whiff of his cologne. Fuck, it reminded you of the Abercrombie and Fitch scent you used to be obsessed with in middle school. How did it still have this effect? "Are you wanting to drink or dance already?"
You watched as Hoseok and Jimin wove their way into the crowd, disappearing from sight. "I think I'll need a drink first."
"That's fine. Just catch me in there." He doesn't say another word before he followed after his friends, leaving you behind. Whatever. You looked around for Taehyung, wondering where he had wandered off to, to no avail. Dejected and temporarily thrown off the tracks of Mission: Cock-Block Jungkook, you make your way to the bar. It isn't until a lemon drop is in front of you that you feel a hand on your shoulder.
You turned around, a red-faced, drunken girl greeting you with a cheesy smile. "Oh my God, did you walk in here with Jungkook?"
"Er— yes? Are you his friend?"
She leaned in harder against you, and you feel the heat from the alcohol off her. "Oh my God, define friend? Ha, no, we just hooked up once."
Your ears perked up at that. Hooked up? She had slept with Jungkook? Jungkook actually got down like that? "Oh... really?"
"Really!" She beamed. Her eyes went wide as she stared at you. "Are you sleeping with him too?"
"No, no, I—" Before you could correct her that you had never slept with Jungkook and surely never would, she interjected.
"Girl, you need to get ooooon that!" She giggled, snapping her fingers at the bartender for his attention, digging around in her purse for her card. "Excuse me, Mr. Bartender! Can we get two green tea shots over here?" She plopped down on the seat next to you, scooting in closer. "When I tell you it was the best dick of my lifeeee girlfriend, you better believe it."
You were suddenly so glad that this oversharing, drunk mess was giving you such valueable intel. You felt like a spy, gathering information on the enemy through sly thinking and a silver tongue. Granted, anything would probably sound cool to her in the state she was in. And you didn't even try, but who were you to deny blackmail material? You could always ues a leg up on Jungkook. You leaned on one elbow, suddenly incredibly intrigued. "Oh really?" You smiled as best you could. "You're kidding."
"No way!" The two shots slid before you. "He's got like, a third leg, I'm telling you!"
"I want all of the details." Normally you wouldn't want to hear a thing about Jungkook's sex life, but this opportunity had fallen right into your lap. Who were you not to take it? Plus, your mind was still spinning with thoughts of him in his compression tee, and the fact he even went clubbing in the first place. Suddenly you were more than curious to know about every aspect of Jungkook you had been missing out on.
"Take the shot with me and I'll tell you everything!"
You couldn't say no to that, and anything for the mission. Glasses up, and you felt the sharp burn travel down your throat and into the pit of your stomach. Bringing your face back to neutral, you turned to your new friend. "Spill."
"Ok, so," she leaned in closer, mouth next to your ear. "We hooked up in the bathroom here like a year— wait, was it two years?— ago. Oh my god, when I tell you, I'd do anything for another go. Unfortunately I've got this situationship with a guy named Jake— don't ever go for guys with J names, I'm telling you, they'll fuck you up."
"Like Jungkook?" You tried to get her back on track.
"Oh he'd be in a good way!" She laughed. "I don't know actually. It was a one night thing. Never even got his number. Can you give it to me? Wait. Never mind. Jake wouldn't like that."
"I don't know, bathroom fucks don't sound the greatest." Damn did she seem to wander in conversation.
"Oh my God, I know right? Usually it's so nasty— but girl, when I tell you, he was nastier. He was an absolute freak!" She sighed, tapping on her empty shot glass and waving to the bartender again for refills. "I wish Jake were that freaky sometimes. I mean, he tries, but still."
"What do you mean, freak?" Jungkook? A freak? The dude probably was as vanilla as you could get! You remembered when your moms gave you the talk together, and how red his face got.
Her eyes lit up. "Absolute freak! Fucking rough, in all the right ways. It's so hard to come across big dick that's actually good, y'know? Like humongous, like, girth of a coke can, almost! I felt like I was going to die choking on that, y'know what I mean? And the mouth on him, Jesus!"
"Good to know he reciprocates, I guess," you shrugged, reaching for your new green tea shot as it was placed in front of you. This girl was a blessing in disguise spilling these nasty details to a stranger, but it was so much you definitely needed more liquor to get through it.
"Oh girl, he reciprocates. And that boy is a talker." She downed her shot, and you did the same. "I've never heard a guy talk like that outside of porn."
You felt like your heard was about to explode. Jungkook, a yapper in bed? The most you had ever heard a guy say was "Do you like that, baby?" To which you'd simply nodded and checked the time to see if you'd be able to make it home in time to binge your TV show. Jungkook couldn't even say the word "fuck" until he was 14. What on Earth had he been spewing?
"This sounds a bit hard to believe." You felt your cheeks warm up, knowing a rosy flush would soon overtake your face.
"I don't blame you. But I am giving out the recommendation," she snickered. "He's a bit mean though, fair warning. I thought he would be all sweet but, boy, did he throw me for a loop!"
"Mean how?"
She asked the bartender for another refill and nudged the shot to you. You were a little hesitant. One lemon drop and three shots already in such a short amount of time? You hadn't drunk like this in years.
"C'mon, last round I promise! It's all on me. All of my roommates are so sick of me talking about it again and again all this time. They heard all the juicy deets over and over again. They said if I mention it even one more time they're locking me out of my apartment. But good dick is so hard to come by, of course anyone would obsess over it!" She huffed, sliding the glass closer to you. "And you're soooo pretty. You deserve good dick. We all do."
Well, a free drink is a free drink.
You took the last shot, the buzz amplifying as you felt yourself loosen up and relax more. The burn in the pit of your stomach encouraged your endeavor. You looked at the girl, her pretty face squealing with delight as she felt the alcohol course through her veins. "Where are your friends, anyways?"
"Oh, I'm here with Abby, but she's over there sucking face." She pointed behind her, and lo and behold, you finally figured out where Taehyung had went.
"Oh, I know that guy."
"Do you? Is he nice?"
"I can't really say, honestly. I don't know him that well. He's one of Jungkook's friends." You circled your finger around the rim of the glass, eyeing her. "How mean are we talking?"
Her smile stretched from ear to ear. "Evil."
A tattooed hand appeared from behind you, and you spun around to see Jungkook's sweaty form. Your newly discovered weakness. Now-Drunk-You was barely keeping it together enough to keep Sober-You's dignity intact. He looked too damn good in his dark jeans, white tank, and black jacket. The silver chain he often wore only brought your attention to his sweaty neck. Your mind was flooded with the new information you had received, and you couldn't help but laugh in his face out of the sheer ridiculousness of it and nervousness.
He cocked his head to the side, studying your face. His eyes darted between the empty glasses and your lidded eyes. "How much have you had to drink?"
"Oh, pshh, this is nothing. I used to do this all the time." You slid the glasses further away from you, as though that would hide the evidence. "I believe you know my new friend, here."
Your friend waved her hand, giggling. "Hiiii Jungkook."
He gave her a warm smile. Not one that said he had railed her in a nearby bathroom, apparently. Maybe she had made everything up? Gotten your Jungkook mixed up with some sex deity you desperately needed to meet? "Hi Layla."
"Met your new girl, here. She's fun!"
"She's my roommate," Jungkook corrected, and for some reason you didn't like it. Was he interested in hooking up with Layla again? She clearly was down.
Layla looked at you, eyes widened. "Roommate? Girl, I could never! How do you—"
You interrupted her, not wanting her to finish her sentence. It wasn't one you trusted yourself to answer honestly at the moment. Instead you pointed to where Taehyung and Abby were. "Look, your friend is busy sucking face with her friend."
"So he is," Jungkook hummed, eyes diverting back to you. "You all good?"
"Yeah, yeah!" You tried to focus on him. His pretty eyes looked so concerned. You felt so much more affection toward him when you were drunk. You were tempted to pull him in by the chain and pinch his cheeks the way you did when you were kids. "Where have you been?"
"Dancing. I was waiting for you to join."
"Fiiine I'll come." You hopped up from your seat and turned to Layla. "Thank you so much for the drinks. It was lovely meeting you."
"Byeee girlfriend. If he doesn't take you home I will," she winked. You were tempted to take her up on that offer.
Without thinking you grabbed Jungkook's hand, pulling him into the crowd. Whether he was shocked by your action or not, you didn't know. You danced and held your arms up, feeling the alcohol loosen your movements and occasionally bumping into others. You eventually spied Jimin and Hoseok tearing it up on the dance floor, greeting you with cheerful smiles and hyping you up. You were drunk enough to welcome it, spinning around and cheering Jungkook on too as you spotted him moving along with the music.
He was actually doing pretty good, incorporating footwork and everything in the little dancing room he had. The most you were really able to do well was sway your hips to the beat.
"I didn't know you could dance!" When the two of you were forced to go to homecoming together he was always stepping on your toes. Granted, you stepped on his toes first, and on purpose, so perhaps he had only been doing it as a form of payback.
"Seems like there's a lot you don't know." God, his voice sounded so sexy right in your ear like that. You knew he didn't think anything of the forced proximity, it being a necessity with how loud the crowd and music was, but still. You were going weak at the knees.
You scoffed, almost to yourself. "Yeah... no kidding."
Unfortunately for many others, there was a very particular type of drunk you were. The wander-drunk. Before long you were finding the crowd suffocating to be in, and your heels were starting to give you blisters. Making your way upstairs to get a little bit more quiet, you crashed on one of the couches, the area much more vacant save for some people making out. Gross. You can't believe Jungkook hooked up here of all places. And in a nasty ass bathroom? Disgusting. Maybe he really was a horndog.
You shouldn't have been surprised when Jungkook followed after you, sitting down much too close for your mental well being.
You felt much friendlier to him now, giggling as you caught your breath and sticking your finger in his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against the tip. "Gonna follow me in the bathroom too?"
"Layla told you a lot, huh?"
"Pshh." You pull your finger back and looked away, not wanting to be reminded of everything she told you. "Girl's a yapper."
"What'd she tell you?"
You side-eyed him, a smirk creeping up on your lips. "Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"
He rolled his eyes. "I would, in fact. Seems like it was about me."
"She saw us walk in together. Told me you two hooked up." You crossed your arms. "Told me a lot, actually."
He grinned. "All good things, I bet."
You felt your cheeks flare up further, and try to fight back the booze to keep your sanity in check. "Oh, that's what you assume, huh? She was telling me you sucked, actually."
"Now I know for a fact she didn't say that."
You faced him, brows furrowed. "How do you know that?"
He shrugged, that smug ass grin on his face only spreading wider. "I just do."
Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, and roll your eyes you did. "God, you men are all the same. You think your dick is gold and it's the best anyone ever had, and you're just a god in bed! Most of you guys can't even find the clit with GPS. You know most women fake it, right? Just to get it over with?"
He chuckled a little. "I've never had a girl fake it, trust me."
You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Little Jeon Jungkook was actually bragging about his sex prowess, right to your face. You glared at him, leaning closer to see if you could scrutinize the lies coming out of his mouth.
"Bullshit." You shook your head, trying not to let your imagination wander. "Every girl fakes it at some point. Statistically it had to happen with you, especially if you're having random hookups at a club of all places."
"Why, have you faked it?"
"Duh." You said it as though it were obvious.
Jungkook let out a breath of air at that. "You know what, makes a lot of sense, actually."
You shot up at that, feeling offended for some reason. "Excuse you?"
He side-eyed you, a knowing look on his face. "Why you're so uptight. You've never gotten good dick before, have you?"
You felt as though someone had shot you, only able to look at him with a stunned, paralyzed expression. Who was this man, and what had he done with the dweeby, goody, Jeon Jungkook you had known for over two years?
"Are you drunk?" you blurted out, shocked that he was speaking so brazenly about this.
"No. I'm DD, remember?" His hand came up to touch your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin against his palm. The action seemed so tender, so intimate. "You're pretty tipsy, though, it seems."
You can't decide if you want to lean in or jolt away from his touch, seemingly frozen. "I'm... a little drunk."
He snickered a bit at that. "I'm sure. What's going on in that head of yours?"
You realized you must've still looked stunned. "I might say something I'll regret."
That seemed to take him by surprise. He cocked his head, confused. "Why would you regret it?"
Because it would mean throwing away years of pride over a moment that will inevitably seem so embarrassingly stupid in the morning.
You quickly leaned back out of his touch, not wanting him to feel more blood rush to your cheeks. "I-I don't know. I always say stupid shit when drunk."
"You say stupid shit when sober, too," he laughed. "Besides, drunk words are sober thoughts."
You couldn't let your drunk words or sober thoughts let him know how badly you wanted to find out if Layla had been telling the truth or not. That he was an absolute freak. With a huge cock that he knew how to use. Who spewed nasty shit in her ear as he railed her in some dirty club bathroom. That he was super fucking mean... apparently. Not that it interested you.
Your mouth instead opened and closed like a fish, unable to process the moment or what you wanted to say that would not end in your horrific demise.
Were you actually wanting Jungkook? No, no way. Layla had gotten into your head, plied you with booze, and sent you to a possible metaphorical wolf. Your drunk mouth could not be trusted at this moment.
Jungkook brushed a lock from your face, puzzled as to what had you so silent for once. He figured when drunk you'd be spilling your guts out about any and everything, just like Layla. "Are you wanting to go home already?"
You were tempted to say no, as going home with Jungkook would mean you were alone together, and you weren't in a state to not jump on him. But then you remembered your sole reason for being here, and since the club was apparently a dangerous place for Jungkook to find pussy, it was probably best you called it a night to end any possibility of him getting laid. For your own sake of getting sleep, of course. Not for your sanity or anything.
You nodded, following Jungkook downstairs as he told his friends you were both heading home (despite their protests), and helping you into the car. Your walk wasn't nearly as straight, though the heels weren't helping, and you were looking a lot more drunk than you had initially thought. Jungkook buckled your seatbelt for you, and you couldn't help but stare him as he sang softly to the music on the radio, the city lights flashing across his face as he drove you two home.
You couldn't stop ogling at him, and blatantly at that. His tatted fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he drove with one hand. His thighs were spread like a meal before you, and you couldn't help but let your gaze zero in on his crotch. Was his dick really as big as Layla said? Nearly the girth of a coke can? How was that possible? She was definitely exaggerating. And he was mean? How mean? You never had a thing for nice guys, and Jungkook was about as nice as they come. Not usually that nice to you, but still. You couldn't imagine him saying anything meaner than what he already says when you're in one of your spats with him. And during sex? What could he possibly say?
How were you being bombarded with all this new information? You knew everything about him. He liked to eat boiled eggs without eating the yolks. He used to be able to belch the alphabet in your ear just to piss you off. How did you not know he had a tree trunk for a dick sitting between his legs? You squint at the crotch of his jeans, wondering if you could make out an outline of a bulge beneath the fabric.
Fuck, you weren't going to stop thinking about this. What would it be like to suck him off... hypothetically speaking? Layla overshared she was practically choking on him. Was he a head pusher? Would he force you to take it down your throat, be super mean and degrading as he teased you for barely being able to fit him? Would he be even meaner to get back at you for all the trouble you had caused him over the years? Would he laugh as he watched you cry, trying to force yourself down to the base to please him? What would he sound like when the tip finally hit the back of your throat? Would he whimper or let out a deep groan? Would he trap your head between his bulging thighs to keep you locked on him until your eyes rolled back and you ran out of air?
Fuck fuck fuck! Your mind was being filled with all the possibilities. You couldn't be thinking about this! Absolutely not! You hated Jungkook. You knew him forever, how you could you be thinking about sucking his dick? How could you be thinking, at this very moment, of possibly begging him to let you have a taste of it and suck him off in the car just so you could get it out of your system?
Absolutely not! The sheer thought of him knowing that was absolutely mortifying!
"What're you staring at?"
Your eyes popped back up to Jungkook's, who was giving you a sideways glance, his humming ceased.
"Your jeans," you stammered out, trying to act cool.
"What about them?"
"...They're ugly. Burn them. " That was a lie, they looked scarily good on him. Let you see how thick his thighs really were. It was the best you could come up with, though. Better than the "take them off" that was about to spew from your lips.
Jungkook grunted, looking back at the road. "'Course you'd say that. Guess you're sobering up. That's good at least."
You let out a breath at your quick save, forcing yourself to look at the road too. You were just drunk and having silly horny thoughts, clearly. This was nothing. You were sure that when morning came you'd have all thoughts of Jungkook being anything other than a pest out of your mind.
—
You kneeled before Jungkook, a whimper on your lips as he cockily smirked down at you, legs spread on the sofa chair to accommodate your space between them. He looked like a king, leaning back and tilting his head with a teasing expression. Like he knew exactly what you wanted, and now he was just dangling the carrot on the stick, tormenting you.
"C'mon, say it again."
You swallowed hard, eyes flying between his tantalizing crotch and his wicked expression. "Can I..." You licked your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Can I please suck your dick?"
"Oh? You wanna suck it?" He laughed cruelly, shaking his head. "Why should I let you? You've been nothing but a bitch to me for years."
"I know, I just," you took in a sharp breath. "Just need it. I can't stop thinking about it. Need to get it out of my system."
"Hm, I'm not sure." He cocked his head to the side, considering it. His eyes scanned your pathetic state in front of him. "Shouldn't give brats what they want. Might give them the wrong idea."
"Please! At least... at least let me see it." You stared at his crotch ravenously, curiosity eating at you. Maybe even a glimpse would be enough to satiate you and put the issue to bed. Quietly, you asked, "Please let me see it?"
"Mmm, you sound so sweet when you beg. You're so nice when you want something."
You nodded furiously, desperate for anything he can give you. "I'll be good. I promise. I'll do whatever you want."
"Yeah? I don't feel like being nice to you, though, princess. Think you can handle that?"
Your mouth began to water, watching his legs spread a little wider. "Yes, I want it. Want you to be mean."
"You gonna choke on it?"
Nod.
"You wanna gag and drool all over yourself while you do it?"
You sharply inhaled. "Yes, please."
"I'm real big, princess. You sure you know what you're signing up for?"
"Yes! Please please please just let me suck your dick. I can't take it any more!" You felt like you were going to cry already from his teasing.
He smirked, shaking his head with disbelief at your desperation. You had no idea what you just signed up for. "Hm, if you say so. Go ahead and take it out, then."
You shuffled closer between his legs all too eagerly, mouth now watering with the thought of being able to finally taste him. With shaky hands you reached up for his zipper, tugging down the same jeans you had called hideous. Yanking down the Calvin Klein briefs, you almost jumped back as his cock sprung to life in front of your face, far bigger than you had anticipated or ever taken before. He was huge, with a dick that looked like it should only exist in brutal porn links on Twitter.
"Mm, don't be shy, baby." Jungkook tangled his hands in your hair, roughly pulling you closer to it. He stroked his cock a bit, smacking it against your lips and cheeks, laughing at how you screwed your eyes shut and tried to turn away. He didn't let you, keeping you in place as he further degraded you. "Don't run from it. Begged so much to even see it. Are you going to choke on it like you promised?"
You nodded, taking it in your hands, surprised when your fingertips barely meet. Layla was right about his girth, and you couldn't help but feel a sting between your legs at the mere prospect of it. You give out a small kitten lick at the tip, circling your tongue around it and looking up at him for approval.
He seemed almost... bored, looking at you with an unimpressed expression. "C'mon, is that all you've got? You're putting me to sleep here."
Determined, you opened your mouth and took him in, trying to run your tongue along the underside of his cock as you took the first few inches in your mouth.
He cocked his head to the side, his face still the same. "You're still not impressing me, princess."
You took him in further, bobbing your head as you slowly lowered an inch or two more, feeling him fill up your throat. You quickened your pace, spit coating the shaft of his cock as you used your other hands to twist up and down the base where your lips weren't meeting, trying to milk the cum out. You tasted the pre-cum from the tip of his dick, and moaned at the taste, delighted. Choking on him, you buried your head as close to his groin as you could before popping back up for air, taking in greedy gasps before diving back in on his dick. You pumped furiously, now only needing one hand as you sunk your mouth deeper and deeper on him, already gagging as you tried to get the tip to reach the back of your throat.
You typically prided yourself on your head, but Jungkook was proving to be a real challenge.
"Mm, that's it. You're fucking dick-hungry, aren't you? Been obsessing over this, huh? Desperate little slut."
You looked up at him with watery eyes as you suctioned your lips, your tongue moving underneath as you tried to stroke him along with the rest of your mouth. He gave a slight smirk, as though amused by the sight of you making a mess of yourself on his dick. Your spit was running down to your hand and his shaft, down his balls and over his lap into the cushions. It also dribbled down your face, running down your chin and coating the white top you wore until it was near transparent, giving him a clear view of your tits beneath. You didn't care, though, repeatedly bobbing your head to go deeper, prying yourself off to gather your breath before going in for more, as though his dick were more important than air. It absolutely was.
He chuckled at your struggle. "You just couldn't resist a big dick, huh? You really are so easy."
You gagged around him, your throat constricting as your hands grabbed onto his thighs, holding you in place as you tried to get your nose to reach his pelvis. He grunted, hand tightening in your hair and making your scalp sting with delicious pain.
"You're so cute like this. But you're still not quite there." He flashed his teeth, canines glinting in the light. "Do you need some help?"
Without waiting for your answer he pushed your head down, forcing his cock to spear into the back of your throat and pressing your nose against him. Your lips suctioned around the base as you gagged around him more, chin against his balls as he finally forced you to take all of him in. You gagged again, and he moaned at the feeling of your throat spasming around the tip and shaft of his cock, a deep groan leaving his lips as he felt you struggle around him. You blinked the tears up away as you looked up at him pleadingly, and you felt his dick twitch inside of your mouth.
"Fuuuck that's it, now you're being a good slut." He let your mouth rise a few inches before slamming down again, enjoying the feeling of you choking on him, your nails scratching against his denim-clad thighs, unable to get a good grip. "Knew this dumb mouth was good for something. Just needed to be filled."
His ass lifted from the seat as he pushes his hips further into your face, meanly circling his hips to stretch your lips out, laughing as you gagged at the sensation. You felt like your mouth was going to split at the corners with his girth. "Maybe with enough training you can be a good cock-sucking whore. I might actually wanna use this hole again."
He yanked you off his cock, a string of spit connecting the tip to your lips as you gasped and sputtered, chest heaving as you tried desperately to fill your lungs.
"That's enough air." You didn't get enough warning before he's slamming his cock down your throat again, rubbing your face into his lap from side to side to make sure he can feel the walls of your throat properly. Your nails raked down his thighs again as he buried himself as deep as possible in you, wanting you to feel every inch that he forced you to take. Jungkook laughed again, holding eye contact with your determined glare. "What's that look for? You were so desperate for it earlier. Begged for a taste."
Jungkook pulled you back by the hair again, enjoying the sight of your mascara running down your face already from the tears, your shirt covered in drool. His cock was shiny from spit, twitching and beckoning to you for more. Your face was flushed from the lack of air, and you were breathing hard, glaring up at him. He tilted his head, hand detangling from your hair to grab your spit covered chin, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at his amused gaze. He gathered the spit from your chin, letting it spread out on his palm before cruelly rubbing your face with it, smearing your makeup and humiliating you further. "You're just so cute. Are you giving up already?"
"No." You were barely able to cough it out, your voice raspy from your throat being used.
"Aw, you look so determined." He mocked you with a belittling pout. He pulled your face under his cock and pressed your lips against his balls, shoving your head in with a rough push. "Suck."
You took one of his balls in your mouth, licking at the sack and sucking one into your mouth, roving your tongue over it. His cock rested against your face, and his hand returned to the back of your head, forcing you to breathe him in as you licked away.
"Fuck, that's it, give them attention too. Good sluts don't forget." With his spare hand he reached for his dick, stroking it with the newly-added lubrication of your spit, his hand twisting much like yours had. His fist repeatedly hit the top of your head as he jerked his cock, like he was trying to force your face to press deeper and lower against his balls. "You like being beneath me? This is where you belong. Sucking my dick like you're meant for it. Can't bitch at me with that bratty mouth now."
You lapped at him more eagerly, wanting to convey how much you agreed. He snickered at that.
"You're such a good slut. Maybe you can become one of my favorites. Would you like that?" He stood up now, shoving down the rest of his pants and underwear and stepping out of them, dragging you by the hair to straighten your back and keep your face level with his cock. He smacked your mouth with his palm, as though he were trying to wake you up. "Open."
You obediently did so, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. Jungkook slapped the tip against it a few times, smirking at how obedient you were to his every command. He plunged back inside, slamming his hips back against your face. The man was so forceful, so rough, using you like you were nothing more than a sex toy for him to spill his load into. And you loved it. God, you loved it. The way heat was churning up in your belly with each passing grunt that left his lips, or that deep groan every time he bottomed out into your throat, forcing you to nuzzle your chin against his balls to take him impossibly deeper? It was heaven, unreal actually. You couldn't help but press your thighs together, desperate for relief, knowing you were creaming in your panties right now.
"You fucking like being used. Wanted be my whore so bad. So fucking desperate for a taste and to gag on my dick— you're fucking pathetic." He fell back on the chair, taking you with him as you continued to sputter around him, the walls of your throat massaging his cock and pushing him closer to the edge. "Can't believe you get off on this. Just another slut for me to use, huh? Gave me all that attitude because you wanted me to fuck you stupid like the whore you are, isn't that right? Just needed a fat fucking cock to choke on."
Jungkook wrapped his legs around your head, bulging, muscular thighs squeezing around your throat as he crossed his calves and pulled you closer, trapping you at the base of his cock with nowhere to go. Your lips suctioned around the base, drool dripping out from the corners of your lips as you salivated on him. He pulled your head up and down, only letting you up an inch as you gurgled over his cock over and over again, the sloppy, lewd sounds loud and pornographic. Your eyes started to roll back, blood rushing to your face as he choked you with his thighs and his dick, his smug, shit-eating grin being the only thing you could see now.
"Fuuuck, you might actually make me cum. Who knew a brain-dead slut like you could actually be good at something?" His mean laugh echoed in your ears as he used both hands tangled in your locks to guide you, your throat nothing to a fleshlight to repeatedly squeeze around him now. You were starting to get light headed, the edges of your vision darkening. "Gonna ruin you. You're so obsessed with my dick already it's pathetic. Would let me do anything, I bet. Just begged me to use you like you were actually mine, fuck."
You felt yourself going weak, vision tunneling in on Jungkook as he held you down as deep as he could, nose smashed against his pelvis, pre-cum flowing down your spasming throat as you did your best to swallow around him. Your eyes were now actually rolling back as Jungkook suffocated you on his cock, all of your senses being filled with only him, lashes fluttering as your eyes began to shut, your consciousness slipping away.
At the very last second he pulled you off of him, and your legs were jelly, unable to support yourself as you crumbled onto the floor. Oxygen practically slammed back into your lungs, your dotted vision slowly reappearing as Jungkook climbed over you, thighs straddling either side of your head as he stroked his glistening cock in front of your face. He bit his lip, gnawing at the flesh as he jerked quicker and quicker, watching you pant and writhe beneath him, looking already so, so broken.
He ran his hand through his hair, a breathless smile on his face as he admired his work so far. "Fuck, if I knew you were this slutty from the get go I would've fucked your mouth the first day we moved in. Probably sooner."
Jungkook pressed his cock against your face, pressing his palm down on it so you could feel the full length of him against your cheek and forehead. His cock was so big that his balls rested on your chin and his tip reached above your hairline. He rolled his hips, humping against you, watching the spit on his cock further rub in and ruin your makeup, your mascara having tracked its way down your cheeks already. The act felt so humiliating, and his eyes lit up with sadistic pleasure as he watched you whimper at the feeling.
"Mm, you're so pretty like this. Give it a kiss. Show how grateful you are to be used by me."
You tilted your head slightly, pressing your lips against the shaft to give it a small kiss, wanting to curl in on yourself as his demeaning laugh reached your ears. You felt so ashamed, and yet so excited, like you yourself were wondering how far he could push past your limits.
"You're such a little freak," he whispered, watching you close your eyes and part your lips at the sensation of him getting off using your face. You were lost in it. Lost in him, wanting nothing more than for him to use you for his own pleasure. "Nasty little slut. Meant to be broken. What happened to all that attitude, baby? I didn't even have to fuck it out of you, did I? Just had to stuff my dick in this bratty mouth of yours to make you finally shut the fuck up."
You weakly nodded, missing his warmth as he pulled back to let his dick hover above you again, his big hand twisting and jerking around it as he stroked himself to completion. You reached your hands up to wrap around him, wanting to help him finish, but he slapped them away, pinning them above your head and stroking faster. You whined at his restriction, his smirk cruel as he watched you suffer from your helplessness, unable to touch him any more.
"Tell me who you belong to," he moaned, gaze hard on your face as though that would pin you to the floor more than his hand. "Tell me whose slut you are, who gets to use you from now on."
"You," you gasped. "You, Jungkook."
"Good girl." His cock twitched, balls clenching as the first few spurts of cum escaped the tip, coating your face. His hand increased in speed, milking every last drop onto you, watching as you became covered in him. You tried to turn your face to the side, away from it, but he roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to feel every drop. "No running from it. This is what you begged for. You wanted to be owned."
Letting go of his length, he rubbed his spit-covered palm hard over your face, smearing the cum into the skin and already ruined makeup, making you into a further mess. He scooped some with his thumb to collect it and smear it across your lips, letting you finally get a proper taste. "You're mine now. Even when you hate me, you want me."
He stuck his cum-covered fingers into your mouth, letting you suck and hum with satisfaction. Jungkook smirked at your fucked-out expression, covered in his cum and absolutely ruined because of him. "You've never looked prettier than this, princess."
And then you came.
—
You shot upright in bed, covered in sweat, feeling it everywhere. On your forehead, down your back, between your thighs, truly everywhere. Your legs trembled and shook beneath the sheets as you quickly kicked them off, horrified of the wet spot you saw and felt beneath your shorts.
There was no way. There was absolutely no way you just came from a wet dream about sucking Jungkook's dick.
You jumped out, quickly yanking at the sheets as if you were getting rid of evidence of a dead body. You looked over to your clock. 4:32 AM. The alcohol had made you knock the fuck out as soon as you got home, but clearly it was also responsible for that fucked up dream you just had. Gathering the sheets in your arms, you quickly rushed towards the washer, mind spinning with images of that vivid dream you just had.
It felt so real. Every touch, every press of skin against skin, it felt like you could actually still feel it. Still-frames flashed across your mind. Jungkook's smug as smile as you begged for a taste of his cock. His thick thighs enveloping around your neck and squeezing, forcing you to take all of him. Him smearing his cum into your face after stroking his cock against it and marking you. His nasty, vile words as he degraded you the entire time.
How the fuck had your twisted mind come up with all of this imagery?
You dumped the sheets into the washer, pouring in some laundry detergent before turning it on. It was so fucking loud. You prayed Real-Jungkook hadn't been woken up by whatever moan or scream you had let out when you woke up from the wet dream. It was such a small apartment, he might even wake up from the sound of just the washer.
Your eyes slowly drifted towards his bedroom door, the wooden barrier taunting you with what you knew hid behind it.
You were so tempted to open it up, climb into Jungkook's bed and suck his dick for real this time.
No no no! Stop it! Your horny brain could not be trusted right ow, especially after a dream like that.
You had to do something about this. If you went to bed again who knew what sort of fucked up shit you'd dream up of the man you swore you hated for practically your entire life.
You searched in your room for any paper, but came up with nothing. You had rid yourself of most of your old materials pretty much immediately after graduating. It wasn't until you looked to the coffee table in the living room, at the neat stack of college-bound, spiral notebooks, that you found your solution. Jungkook always liked to study here, his gaming equipment taking up too much space his desk, and you knew the notebooks up top were the ones he used most recently and regularly. Surely he wouldn't mind you borrowing one of the older ones from a class he's already passed?
You reached for the bottom-most book and yanked it out, flipping through the pages of Jungkook's neat handwriting until you finally come across the first open page.
Grabbing a nearby pencil, listening to the racketing of your shitty ass washing machine, you began to write. While it's still fresh on your mind, you wrote down every sordid detail from beginning to end, letting your writing utensil fly across the page as you poured out every piece of imagery that flooded your mind and flooded between your legs. All of it, from how you begged to every nasty thing he did to you, from choking you between his thighs, rubbing his cum in your face, and suffocating you on his cock enough for you to almost pass out. You felt your blood finally start to simmer down to a much more manageable temperature with every letter, your coping strategies doing wonders for your cortisol levels.
It isn't until you scribble the very last part that you hear a door creak open.
Bleary eyed and sleepy, Jungkook stepped out, his brows furrowed as he sees you crouched in front of the coffee table. "What're you doing up?"
Your gaze flew to the clock on the microwave. 5 AM, Jungkook's usual wake up time. Figured even a night out wouldn't stop him from his typically routine.
Your eyes repeatedly darted between his face and the shorts he slept in, your mouth unconsciously watering despite yourself. Fuck, he looked so good with his mussed up bed head and lidded eyes. It didn't help that you had the image of Dream-Kook's dick seared in your brain, and you couldn't help but wonder how it compared to the real thing. Catching yourself, though, you force your eyes back on his face, not wanting to be caught blatantly staring the way you were last night.
"Oh, Jungkook! You're up early."
"I always get up at this time." His eyes narrowed, mind trying to process the fact you were too. "The question is, why are you?"
"Oh, guess the alcohol made me wake up early. Can't go to bed," you nervously chuckled, holding the book behind your back in hopes he wouldn't notice.
"So you're doing... laundry?" His eyes go to your loud ass washing machine, still rattling with your soaked sheets inside.
"Thought I'd take a page out of your book and be productive in the morning!" You quickly explained.
He eyed you suspiciously. "What's in your hand?"
"Oh, this? It's just..." You finally look at what Jungkook wrote on the bright, red cover. "Calculus 2?"
"You're reading my Calc notes at 5 in the morning?"
"Just because I'm done with school doesn't mean I'm done learning!"
"You didn't even have to take Calculus 1. You were a Psychology major."
"Don't you have a morning run to go on?" you huffed, irritated with his constant questioning. "You missed out on your 'cardio' last night, remember?"
He cocked his head, confused. "No I didn't. I went out dancing. That's basically cardio."
Oh...
Well now you felt stupid.
You looked away, hoping he couldn't see the shame and embarrassment on your face, knowing you were bullshitting. You were afraid that if he looked at you too long, he'd see exactly what was going on in your head. "You should still go out for a run. Don't need you getting lazy."
He rolled his eyes, shuffling back to his room. "Whatever."
You let out a breath of air and finally let your tense shoulders loosen.
That was a close one.
—
You really thought that would be the end of it. So you had one, absolutely crazy, unrealistic dream about Jungkook railing your mouth. So what? Surely it would never happen again. You had gotten it out of your system by writing all of it out. It's not like that would ever even happen like that. Clearly you had taken the details Layla had given you and ran with them, making Jungkook out to be a mean, cruel, demented sex-god in your imagination. No one could ever live up to that fantasy, least of all a nerd like Jungkook. There was no way you saw Jeon Jungkook as anything besides the dweeb you grew up to despise.
And you were truly despising him this moment, squirming as you banged against the bathroom door, in desperate need of relief.
"Come on, Jungkook! You've been in there forever, you're done showering! Some of us have to actually pee, you know." God, you reallllly didn't want to head all the way downstairs and use the lobby bathroom. Damn this place for only having one.
"Just a second, hold your tits," he piped back.
You scowled, slamming your fist against the door again. Jungkook always took showers for what seemed like forever, steaming up the small room and soaking the bathmat when he got out. You're about to hurl an insult when the door opens, revealing Jungkook through a steamy mist that clouded the room.
And he was half naked.
Your gaze automatically explored the newly revealed skin to you, every muscle in his abdomen well defined. His chest was much broader to match his shoulders, waist practically nothing as it led down to the v-shape between his hips, disappearing beneath a towel. His body was wet, glistening from the hot shower and steam, every muscle shining and glistening as though he were covered in oil. You stared down at the towel, now all too aware that he was completely naked beneath, and if weak little fitted scrap were to fall, you'd have a full view of his dick.
You had seen Jungkook shirtless countless times. At the pool, at the beach. But back then he had noodle arms and a little boy's body. He looked nothing like that any more. He had completely filled out, a man before your eyes.
Jungkook quirked a brow at your staring, confused by your blank expression. "Didn't you need to pee?"
Your empty head was then reminded of what you had come there for in the first place, and as much as you'd like to further ogle Jungkook's muscular, god-like build, the pressure of your bladder reminded you there were much more urgent matters. You did your best to twist your face into a scowl again, bumping into him purposefully as you enter the bathroom. "Move."
Slamming the door behind you, you finally were able to pee. Washing your hands and wiping the fogged up mirror, you internally cringed at how brazenly you checked out Jungkook. Fuck, hopefully he didn't think anything of it. But what could he expect when he was practically naked in front of you? Don't people usually carry their change of clothes into the bathroom with them for after?
Fuck... if only the towel dropped...
You were sickeningly reminded of the dream from prior, and find yourself reaching for his body wash, still dewy and wet. You popped it open, letting the fragrance hit your nose. Fuck, you were being such a creep right now. But it smelled so much like Jungkook, with that manly, woody scent that now covered your apartment and drove you crazy.
You heard a knock on your front door, followed by Jungkook's, "I'll get it!"
You exited the bathroom, seeing Taehyung walk in. Jungkook had already changed into clothes (unfortunately), wearing blue jeans and a hoodie to combat your blasting AC, but his hair was still wet as he ran a towel over it. Taehyung smiled at you as he entered, giving a small wave. "Hey, Y/N."
"Hi Taehyung." Taehyung was an attractive man, no doubt, with supermodel features and bulkiness that rivaled Jungkook's. It was no wonder he was able to pull girls so easily when clubbing. "Sorry we didn't get to say goodbye the other night. You seemed a bit preoccupied."
"Oh, yeah, she was cool."
You tilted your head, squinting your eyes. "What was her name?"
"Um..." He glanced over at Jungkook for help. "Amy?"
"Abby," you corrected for him.
"Right! Abby." He smiled at Jungkook knowingly. "She's Layla's friend, right?"
"Dude, shut up," Jungkook grunted, tossing his wet towel in Taehyung's face.
Taehyung cackled boisterously, bunching the towel up. "What? Afraid I'll embarrass you in front of your little roomie?"
"It's fine, I know more than I should." It accidentally slipped out, and both boys give you a look that made you regret it. Taehyung's was one of keen interest, whereas Jungkook's was one of mild shock.
"Oh?" A mischievous smile slipped onto Taehyung's face. "How much do you know?"
"They hooked up," you said simply, careful not to give away what sordid details Layla had given. You did not want Jungkook to find out about how you pried for details about how dirty his mouth was and how he had a generous appendage.
"That's all?" He seemed almost disappointed. "Yeah, Jungkook's entered his manwhore phase. I'm so proud."
"Shut up, dude," Jungkook said again, shoving Taehyung's shoulder. "It was a one time thing and you know it. And I'll never be as bad as you, even if I tried."
Taehyung let out a low whistle at Jungkook's irritation. "Look who's getting so defensive. Trying to save face in front of your girlfriend?"
"Not my girlfriend," Jungkook corrected. "Just don't need you getting in her head and giving her more ammo to use against me."
That was a very you thing to do.
Taehyung's grin widened, "So you wouldn't mind if I took her on a date, would you?"
The look Jungkook shot Taehyung's way could only be described as lethal, a sharp glare accompanied with a tense jaw. Clearly Taehyung had succeeded in getting under Jungkook's skin. "Y/N wouldn't be interested in you."
"Oh really?" Taehyung quirked a brow. "I think she can answer for herself."
Both men looked to you, and you're suddenly frozen from being put on the spot. You hadn't anticipated being put between the two of them, their attention wholly focused on your answer. The truth was you probably would've jumped on Taehyung in any other circumstance, but he was Jungkook's friend, and clearly Jungkook didn't seem to keen on the idea of you sleeping with him. Besides, your head had been filled so much with Jungkook recently, you weren't sure if there was room for anyone else.
Letting out a nervous chuckle, you glanced between the two. "This seems a bit tense," you said, diverting from the question, not wanting to directly answer.
"Don't listen to him. He's just being a dick for the sake of it," Jungkook grunted, shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it onto the living room sofa. "Go to the car already if you want us to make it before the dinner rush. Otherwise that waitress you like so much will be too busy."
Taehyung slid out from his seat, giving you a small smirk. He probably took it as a good sign you didn't directly reject him. "Call me if you want to take me up on my offer, Y/N. I can show you a good time."
He exited your apartment, leaving you alone with Jungkook, who still seemed strangely heated. His glare now turned to you, gritting his teeth. He probably was upset that you didn't directly reject Taehyung. Offended, he asked, "Is he your type or something?"
Clearly he wasn't planning on letting this go just yet. You did your best to give a noncommittal shrug, looking away. "I mean, he's a good-looking guy. I'm not sure he's exactly my type though."
"What is your type?"
Why was he so interested?
The truth was tall, muscular, inked, him. Well, not him, but maybe someone who looked just like him. A bulky guy who looked like he could toss you around like it was nothing. Maybe someone who invaded your dreams like a goddamn incubus. Fuck, maybe it was him.
"Not so sleazy," you opted for instead.
He grunted, grabbing his wallet and shoving it in his pocket, somewhat satisfied with your answer. "Yeah, Taehyung's a bit of a fuckboy. I don't recommend you get involved with him like that."
You crossed your arms. "Birds of a feather flock together, I suppose."
A certain look flashed in his eyes as he locked gazes with you. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, you're not so innocent yourself, hooking up in a dirty club bathroom with a stranger. And he's your friend, after all."
"I said— Look, it was a one time thing, I don't usually—" He let out a breath of exasperation, shaking his head and heading to the door, grabbing his keys from the bowl next to it. "Forget it."
The door slammed shut behind him, and you were left alone with more questions than answers.
—
Your bedroom door creaked open, a small sliver of light invading your darkness and shining on your face. You squinted, watching as a shadowy mass pushed the door open further, climbing over you and ripping the sheets off.
Jungkook smiled, back from dinner, and yet there was an insatiable, hungry look in his eyes as he took in your form, now revealed from beneath the blankets. "Hey, baby," he said in a low whisper. "Did you miss me?"
"Jungkook?" You groggily reached up and rubbed at your eyes, slowly waking up as you realized he was on top of you. "What're you doing?"
"Exactly what you've been wanting me to do." He reached towards your sleep shorts, hand curling into the hem as he pulled it down your bare legs. You squirmed, reaching for his arm to stop him from exposing you, but he continued, discarding the shorts and hooking his thumbs into your panties. He licked his lips, slowly peeling them off of you, your bare center privy for his viewing pleasure. "Fuck, there's the little pussy I've been dreaming about."
You squealed as he yanked your underwear off your legs too, spreading them and leaving no part of you hidden from him. You tried to snap your legs shut, but his grip on your thighs was too strong, his gaze too hard and intense for you to escape. You knew just from the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to let you go. Your nails scratched along his wrists, begging for mercy under his scrutinizing stare. "Jungkook! You can't just—"
"But I can," he interrupted, smirking at you. "Because you want it so fucking bad, don't you?"
You whimpered a bit at that, and he let go of one of your thighs to yank your shirt off of you, leaving you completely naked before him. He pinched one of your nipples between his fingers, tugging as he watched you squirm and gasp under his touch.
"You're so sensitive, aren't you?" He licked his lips again, as though you were a meal waiting to be devoured, and he was simply playing with his food first. "Bet you dreamed of me coming into your room and taking advantage of you, huh?"
"No!" You protested, shaking your head. "Y-You're wrong."
"Liar." His hand let go of your nipple to smack down harshly on your cunt, his hit heavy as your hips jumped up, a string of slick connecting his fingers to your sex before snapping off. "Good thing this pussy doesn't lie to me."
You bit your lip, trying to contain your squeal as he let his fingers dive between your folds, gathering your wetness and letting it smear on his digits. He circled around your clit and rubbed right above your entrance, feeling you coat him. Jungkook chuckled knowingly, watching your legs twitch and tremble with every small movement he made. "You're so wet for me already, and I haven't even done anything. You're such a slut for me."
"F-Fuck yo—" You weren't even able to finish your curse, Jungkook slipping a finger in and curling it up right at the spot that had you tensing up. "Oh my god!"
"Yeah? You like that?" He curled again, watching you thrash your head to the side, shame overtaking you. "You're so fucking easy, you know that? Just begging to be ruined. Want me to dick you down so bad, huh?"
You kicked your feet against the sheets, gasping as he pumped his finger inside of you, grinning wickedly as he watched you come apart. "Why—Why are you—"
"Because you wanted me to," he said, slipping in another finger, savoring the whimper that escaped your lips. "You wanted me to be the one to ruin you. Wanted me to use this pussy like my own personal fuck toy. Isn't that right?"
"Y-You're delusional."
"Am I?" His thrusts became quicker and harder, like your denial was making him more and more determined to have you fall apart for him. "Why are you getting wetter for me then, huh? Nasty pussy can't get enough of me it seems."
You moaned, feeling pressure build up in your abdomen already as his thumb came up to swipe at your clit. You tried closing your legs again around his hand, but he pushed one of your thighs further against the bed, making you hear the sloppy sounds of your gushing cunt full the room as he jackhammered his fingers into you.
"You're such a slut for getting off on this. Dirty little masochist." You involuntarily squeezed around his fingers, making him laugh at your expense. "Like that, huh? Like me calling you a dirty slut for me to use? You're fucking clenching on me baby, it's like you don't want me to stop. You could at least pretend a bit better that you don't like this."
With each curl of his fingers small gasps and pants left your parted lips, the pressure building as he shuffled himself further between your thighs, the hand pinning you down now quickly swiping against your clit, toying with the bud and adding to the slick sounds from between your legs. Your face burned with embarrassment, nails digging into his skin as you tried to pry him off with no avail, your orgasm building up with an intensity you weren't ready for.
"Please..." you moaned, mouth open as you watched both hands at work, expertly bringing you to the edge.
"Please?" He snickered at your weak plea. "Please what? Keep using you? Make you cum? Or should I just stop?"
He stilled his fingers and your hips bucked again, biting at your lip as you gripped onto his wrist, trying to pull him closer into you. The pressure in your abdomen began to fade, and you whined at the loss. "No!"
He cackled at that. "That's what I thought." His fingers began to move again, rebuilding your orgasm. "Gonna make you cum so hard. Maybe you'll pass out again. And then I'll still stretch this pussy out."
He slipped another finger in, your walls doing their best to accommodate the girth of his digits despite how tight it felt.
"Too much!" You felt your orgasm approaching, and fast, much faster than you could've ever anticipated.
"Too much? What're you going to do when you finally get my cock inside you, hm?" Your slick juices were spilling down to his wrist, drenching your bedsheets beneath you. "Gonna whine and bitch about it like you are now? We both know you'll start crying if I stop."
"Don't stop! Fuck, Jungkook, you're gonna make me—"
"Cum," he growled, the hand on your clit now moving to be just his thumb, his other fingers and palm splayed out to push down against your pelvis, forcing you to feel his fingers thrusting inside further, making you tighten. "Show me how fucking easy it is to ruin you."
You whined, practically folding into yourself as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Jungkook's fingers still harshly slamming into you to take everything you could give. You squeezed his wrist, pulling him impossibly closer, the heel on the hand fingering you now flush against your folds as you ground against it, hips bucking as you rode it out. Sweat slicked your hairline as you gasped for breath, your hips slowing to a roll as you felt the aftermath fade.
Jungkook let out a pleased hum, grinding his palm further against you, watching as you keened from the overstimulation, his grin permanently etched on his face as tears sprung into your eyes. "Fuck, that's it. Love that look on your face. Barely took me any effort to get you fucked out like this."
He slipped his fingers out of you, making you mewl from the empty sensation. Bringing them up to your lips, you wordlessly opened your mouth and took them in, sucking off the residue you had left behind.
"That's a good girl. Taste yourself." He pulled his fingers out, wiping them along your thigh. "My turn."
You barely had time to process how words before he was lifting you up by the hips, turning you practically upside down as your shoulders pressed into the mattress, ass in the air as your thighs were pulled over his shoulders. Blood rushed to your head at the new angle, Jungkook keeping a tight hold on you as your pussy was directly in front of his face. With a cocky grin he brought his mouth down, fully enveloping your sex and running his sinful tongue up the entirety of it.
You moaned, cringing slightly as you still hadn't recovered from the previous orgasm. Your thighs tensed around his head, his arms circling around them to hold you up for him, mouth running up and down your folds and nasty, wet sounds omitting from it. His lips suctioned around your clit, sucking hard as you mewled and clenched your thighs around his head. His hands gripped them tight enough to leave bruises, firmly keeping your cunt glued to his face.
"Fuck, you have such a sweet cunt," Jungkook mumbled into you, the vibrations causing you to squirm at the sensation. "Don't even deserve it."
"Ah, fuck!" Your glassy eyes looked at him pleadingly, the image of his face between your thighs threatening to make you combust on the spot. "No, I just came, I can't—"
He let go of your clit with a wet pop, licking his lips as he pulled one of your thighs closer, his hand coming around to pinch at your clit with mean vigor. "Dumb sluts don't get to say no."
He buried his face back into your pussy, tongue circling around your entrance before going in, the wet muscle stiff as he thrust it in and out, before softening and licking where it could reach inside of you. His nose was pressed up against your clit, still caught between his two fingers, their slight movement as they stroked it making your mind spin. Your hands came up to bury in his hair, conflicted on whether to pull his face in closer.
He pulled his tongue from your sex, though it stayed dangling out of his mouth, as though he were a carnivorous mutt. The lower half of his face glistened with the remnants of your arousal, his lips swollen and glossy. "I know all of your weak spots, Y/N. Know you love being held down and forced to take it. No one else will ever make you feel as good as I do."
He latched back onto you, and you felt the orgasm that hadn't even had time to completely fade away being rebuilt, the sensation of his tongue buried deep inside you and his fingers stroking at your swollen bud pushing you further and further to the edge. Your fingers tugged at his scalp as you felt the wave wash over you, your walls clenching and spasming around his tongue as he pressed his face further against you, wanting to be completely soaked as you came on his face.
Jungkook chuckled against you as he watched your fucked out expression, your eyes slightly crossed and lips parted as the world disappeared, his touch the only thing grounding you. He licked away until you started pushing his head back, and back he went.
But not as back as you were expecting.
You were suddenly sprung back to reality when you felt his tongue against your other entrance, smearing saliva and the evidence of your orgasm onto the rim. You tried pushing his head back away, but he stayed firm, letting go of your thighs for one arm to circle around your waist. Your legs fell back as you folded in half, knees now above your shoulders into the mattress, your ass in his face with no where to hide. Your face burned with embarrassment, "No! Not there!"
He laughed, giving you another lick. "Stupid little girl. Hearing your little moans as you try to protest only makes me want to tease you more."
You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan as you felt his stiffened tongue breach the barrier past your rim, slowly inching further and further against you. Never in your life had you had a man eat your ass, and Jeon Jungkook was going to be the first.
"You—You—" You couldn't even truly begin your sentence as the arm not wrapped around your waist, holding you up, reached around and pinched your clit again. The overstimulated little nub sent jolts of pleasure and pain throughout you, and your torture only persisted.
Jungkook came back up, pinching your clit harder and laughing in your face as you cried. "Wonder if I can make your little pussy cum from just this," he said aloud, spitting on the wrinkled rim before inserting his tongue again, like he was trying to shove his spit into your hole as far as the muscle would allow.
You kicked your legs that were in the air, trying to free yourself from the uncomfortable position,a burn in your calves as they surrounded you. So much blood was rushing to your head, you couldn't think properly with his tongue buried in your ass and your body folded under his whim like you were simply origami paper.
What was worse that it felt so fucking good, Jungkook's daring tongue in your previously unexplored hole doing wonders, his confidence and lack of shame or shyness making him bury himself as deep as he could. His arm around your waist tightened, trying to pull your ass up higher against his face, and his fingers were rubbing circles into you.
Fuck, he was really going to make you cum from eating your ass!
At the worst possible moment, the door swung open completely, and another hulking shadow appeared.
You looked up in horror, realizing how embarrassing the position was. There you were, folded in half, ass in Jungkook's face while his tongue was buried inside, and pussy neglected and squeezing around nothing as your impending orgasm approached.
"Well well well, what have we here?"
Taehyung's amused expression at your predicament did nothing to quell your humiliation, his eyes scouring your naked body, from your flushed face to your sweaty form. You weakly kicked your feet again, trying to squirm out of Jungkook's hold, but he didn't let up, only holding onto you tighter and forcing you to take it, all in front of Taehyung.
Finally he pulled his tongue out, acknowledging the uninvited guest. "Tae, come here and help me hold her down."
Taehyung didn't need to be told twice, ignoring your shriek and grabbing your ankles, pinning them down to the mattress. He smirked down at you, obviously loving how helpless you were beneath the two men, his presence only adding to your embarrassment.
"Suck her clit. Don't put anything in her pussy yet, she's on time out." That was all Jungkook said before he returned to eating your ass, unashamed in front of his friend.
Taehyung did as told, lips on your pussy without hesitation. He sucked on your clit, his tongue roving over the area as you squirmed and tried to kick again, but his grip on your ankles kept you glued in place. You felt both of them smile against you, enjoying how you struggled beneath them, unable to move even a single inch.
"Fuck," Taehyung finally said, deep voice making you clench around nothing, letting go of your clit as you squealed. "Tastes so fucking good."
"I know," Jungkook chuckled, letting some of the drool from the tip of his tongue drip onto your winking asshole, adding to the lubrication. "She gets so fucking wet when you manhandle her. She's a total masochist."
"Is that right?" One of Taehyung's hands let go of your ankles to land a sharp spank on your ass, having you wiggle and moan beneath them at the smarting pain. He laughed, spanking your other cheek too, looking down at your teary expression with absolute glee. "Fuck, you're right. She's loving this."
"She's so fucking dirty. She loves having me eat her ass. Was so shy at first, but now look at her."
"Mm, I can tell. She looks like she's gonna cum any minute." Taehyung licked against your clit again, savoring the whimper that escaped you. "Are you gonna cum? Don't even have anything in that little pussy and you're already squirming like you're gonna burst. Bet you hate being so empty."
He sucked on your clit again with renewed fervor, Jungkook's tongue curling inside you as they both drove you crazy. Taehyung's hand reached down to your bare chest, twisting your nipple to hear you whine, nails digging in a little as he cruelly twisted. He smiled against your clit again, teeth barely nipping at your folds to make you cry more for them. His was just as evil as Jungkook.
"C'mon, cum for us. Maybe we'll let you have something in your pussy again," Jungkook grunts, words muffled. "Show Taehyung what a fuckslut you are."
Your ass clenched on his tongue, hips bucking what little they can against Taehyung's face as your third orgasm overtook you. Your thighs trembled, and you felt only the sensation of two mouths on your most intimate parts, devouring every part that was accessible to them. Your moan was practically whorish, your neighbors no doubt ready to leave a noise complaint with your landlord at the disturbance.
Once you finished shaking beneath them, they finally let you go, letting you crumple between them on the sheets, body limp and practically lifeless from the three orgasms forced out of you. You breathed heavily, mind hazy as the orgasmic fog took over your brain. You barely processed Jungkook pulling you into his arms, sitting you between his legs and spreading your own over his.
His fingers reached down, spreading your lips and revealing your twitching sex to both, your clit swollen and folds puffy from the abuse you endured.
"You're such a good slut for us," he rasped into your ear, his voice sending tingles down your spine. "Pretended to hate this so much, but now look at you. I guess you deserve some reward."
Your eyes widened as you realized what that meant. You try to close your legs again, but Taehyung halts you, hands on your knees and keeping you spread out and exposed to them. You looked at both pleadingly. "Please, no more, I feel like I'll die if I cum again."
Jungkook only smiled cruelly at that, the hand on your pussy coming down to smack your swollen sex yet again, making you yelp. "Taehyung, why don't you finger her a bit?"
Taehyung grinned, digits coming up and sliding across your puffy cunt, circling your entrance before inserting two fingers already. He hissed as he felt you squeeze around him, barely giving him room to move. "Fuck, she's so tight, even after cumming so much."
You felt Jungkook's smirk against your ear. "Yeah, gonna have to stretch her out to fit my cock. Think it'll break her?"
Taehyung chuckled, crooking his fingers up and sliding them in and out of you. "You might. Don't know how she's gonna take you. Her pussy's just so fucking tiny."
"I'll have to make her take it. She'll like it better that way anyways. She pretended like she didn't want this earlier, but her body doesn't lie." Jungkook peeled your hands away from Taehyung's wrist, refusing to let you pull him away. He held your wrists in each hand, holding them up as he admired the shine on Taehyung's digits every time he pulled them out of your pussy. "Do you like how he fingers you, princess? Masochistic pussy just can't get enough. Want Tae to make you cum again?"
"F-Fuck," you whimpered, unable to answer, your brain practically mush at this point. "I... I'm..."
"Shh, it's ok baby. I know you're too dumb to talk right now," Jungkook cooed mockingly in your ear, lips brushing against the shell. "It's alright. You're just gonna take what we have to give you like a good little slut, isn't that right?"
You nodded dumbly, moaning again as Taehyung hit that weak spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back. You weren't sure how much more you could endure, but you knew the two of them wouldn't give you any other choice.
"You should thank him for letting you cum so much," Taehyung scolded, bullying his fingers deeper into you, spreading them and scissoring you open. "Whores like you should learn how to give respect."
"She never gives me respect," Jungkook said, letting go of one of your wrists to meanly slap your cunt again, making you buck against Taehyung. "That's how she got in this position in the first place."
"Bitch just needed to be put in her place, is that right?" Taehyung chuckled.
"Th-Thank y-y-you," you weakly stammered out.
Jungkook ran his fingers over your sore cunt, soothing the sting as he studied your expression. Tears had sprung at the corners of your eyes, and you looked as though you were about to bawl any minute. "I'm not sure she's learned quite yet."
His middle finger traveled down to your entrance, sliding in easily due to your wetness and joining right above Taehyung's. You sharply inhaled at the feeling, your free hand coming to wrap around Jungkook's wrist, which he ignored. Instead he let go of your other hand, wrapping his own around your throat and giving it a light squeeze.
"It's so much," you gasped out, feeling their fingers move in tandem, stretching you.
Both chuckled.
"Oh baby, you're gonna need a lot more than that if you want to take me," Jungkook smirked, nipping at the shell of your ear. "I'm much bigger than that, remember?" He squeezed your neck, like he was reminding you how he filled your throat before.
"He's right, baby. I've seen him in the locker room. You'll have to be completely stretched out if you want to fit him in this tight little pussy." Taehyung laughed at your fearful expression, pumping his fingers in harder. "I don't think you'll be able to handle it. He's gonna split you in half and have you crying before he get halfway in, I bet."
"You're scaring her," Jungkook teased, slipping in another finger, watching as you keened at the feeling of four thick digits stretching you out. "I think she likes it, though."
"Course she does. Little slut is begging to be filled, isn't that right?" Taehyung reached with his free hand and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Bet you've been dreaming of his cock, haven't you?"
"Yes..." you weakly admitted.
"Fucking pathetic," Jungkook rasped in your ear, curling his fingers harder, pumping faster in time with Taehyung. His palm was flush against your swollen folds, grinding against your clit as he jackhammered his curled fingers into your g-spot. "Is that why you're such a bitch to me, always? Huh? Hoping I'd do this to you? Treat you like a slut, ruin you for anyone else? Finally give you my cock and shut you up?"
"It's real big, baby, you're gonna feel so full," Taehyung crooned. "I don't think any other cock will satisfy you after that. You'll really belong to Jungkook then."
"Gonna make her crawl and beg for me to put it inside her," Jungkook hissed between gritted teeth. "Watch how pretty she cries when I'm finally balls deep inside her."
"Fuck, she's getting wetter just thinking about it. Disgusting little slut is gonna cum just thinking about your dick in her." Taehyung's cruel cackle rang in your ears. "She really is fucking pathetic."
The loud squelching noises of them abusing and stretching out your wet cunt were too much to bear. You weakly nodded in Taehyung's grip, the tears finally falling down your face as you felt the familiar pressure building up. He leaned in, licking up a tear on your cheek and making you whine.
"Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum! I can't, it's—"
"Shh, you will," Jungkook said in a belittling tone, smile evident in his voice and against your ear. "Gonna cum on me and Tae's fingers like a good girl, come on. Give us one more."
"Yeah, baby, show me how pretty you look falling apart."
Jungkook bit into your shoulder, the pain sending you spiraling towards the edge. And you did, your walls contracting around their fingers stuffed inside you, legs quivering as they made you a complete, utter mess between them.
You came, and everything around you shattered.
—
You bolted upward, drenched in sweat once again and gasping for breath. You took in your surroundings, the ceiling fan spinning above you, your living room in its typically pristine state due to Jungkook's tidy habits. Your stomach flipped when you realized the uncomfortable feeling in your panties was because they were drenched, and prayed that it hadn't somehow spilled through your shorts and onto the sofa.
Fuck, you really though you'd be safe just napping on the couch. Instead you had a sex dream yet again that seemed like it lasted hours.
You cursed, realizing you were still wearing Jungkook's hoodie. You had tugged it on pretty much as soon as he left the apartment, breathing in his scent and letting the soft fabric lull you into a false sense of security. You figured you could borrow it for just a moment; your apartment AC was on full blast, surely using his hoodie for just a few minutes would be reasonable! But no, instead you had a wet dream in it, consumed in the scent of his cologne and brain filled with images of him and his friend tag-teaming you to nearly cum to death. You definitely needed to wash this from any of the sweat that was inside, and fast.
Your head whipped around to the door, looking toward your shared key bowl. Only your keys remained. Good. Jungkook was still at dinner with Taehyung. That gave you some time.
You warily looked back to the stack of thick notebooks, the sliver of red at the bottom taunting you for your sick fantasies. Grumbling, you swiped it from underneath the rest, flipping past your most recent entry and scribbling down the details from the consequences of your nap.
You put in everything, the details nasty and graphic as you left nothing out— from Jungkook making you cum repeatedly, fingering you, eating your pussy and then your ass, having Taehyung join in. Every slap and degrading demand for obedience, the way he cooed in your ear and choked you to remind you what had been inside last dream, all of it. You wrote frantically, needing to get the images that flashed across your eyes out before Jungkook's return.
You had just about finished when you heard the jangle of keys in your front door, and panicked as you shoved the notebook back in place, spinning around to face Jungkook with a smile that could only be described as guilty.
Jungkook stepped in, eyes glancing to where your head popped up over the couch.
"Welcome home!" You uncharacteristically greeted. Don't think about how his tongue felt buried inside you. Don't make it obvious you were just imagining him and his friend sharing you like you were a pocket pussy.
He stopped, clearly taken aback by your behavior. "Um... thanks?"
"How was dinner?" You tugged at the hoodie, feeling a trickle of sweat run down your back. Fuck, hopefully you hadn't cum so hard it was permeating in the air. The mere thought of it made you want to die.
"It was fine..." Jungkook furrowed his brows, his expression suspicious. "Taehyung got the waitress's number."
"Oh! That's great to hear." Your eyes never left his lips, an ache between your legs as you recalled how he had used his mouth in your dream. Fuck, were you crazy to want to feel it right now? "He's not with you?"
"Nah. He just dropped me off. Why? You wanting him to hit on you again?" A flash of annoyance crossed his features.
"Pshhh, he didn't mean any of that. He was just trying to ruffle your feathers or something," you dismissed. "I'm sure he'll be plenty occupied with the waitress."
"Right..." He stepped closer to you, which only heightened your anxiety. The scent of his cologne as he neared in proximity was only making you sweat harder. "Are you ok?"
"Never better!" You chirped. "W-Why?"
"You're acting weird... and your face is all flushed." Jungkook narrowed his eyes, stepping closer and reaching a hand out to your forehead. "Are you coming down with something?"
"N-No! It's just hot in here!" You jumped back, not trusting yourself to not scream if he was able to get his hands on you. You stood from the couch, out of arm's reach.
"It's like, freezing in here." Jungkook's eyes flashed down to your attire. "Is that my hoodie?"
"Oh, this?" You internally cursed at yourself for not remembering to take it off. "Well, you're right, it's freezing, so I decided to just put this on, y'know? Figured you wouldn't mind, I mean, you left it on the sofa. I'm sorry. A-and I got really hot in it, so that's why I'm sweating! Crazy how that works. Here, let me give it back." You reached for the bottom of it to yank it off, but suddenly remember you probably soaked the clothes beneath with your sweat too, and that could not be a good look. You lift your arms back down. "...Later."
Jungkook's concerned expression didn't leave, and he stared at you as though you had grown two heads. "Y/N... are you sure you're alright?"
"Yup! Right as rain!" You nervously laughed. "I'll give this back to you in the morning. Sorry for borrowing it without asking."
"It's fine, I don't mind." He gave you one last glance over before hesitantly turning toward his room. "I'll... leave you be, then."
You watched as he turned his back, letting out small breath of relief and letting go of the tension you were unaware you were holding. Still, something gnawed at you. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, "Jungkook, wait."
He turned his head, clearly surprised with all of your antics this evening. "Yeah?"
"I, um," you tried to choose your words carefully. "I'm sorry for insinuating you were a sleaze. It'd be none of my business even if you were one."
Now he was really staring at you like you were from another planet. You? Genuinely apologizing to him? Unheard of. "Er— thank you?" He didn't seem as though he were processing this in real time. "I— You didn't have to... Thanks."
You nodded your head, pressing your lips together as you felt the newfound awkwardness between you two hang in the air. This was new. In all the years you spent with Jungkook,, awkwardness was never something you endured. "That's it. I just wanted to say that. To you."
"I appreciate it."
You spun on your heel to turn to your own room. "Well, that's that! Bye!"
You didn't even make it one step when you felt something grab your wrist.
"Wait."
You slowly turned, eyes glued to the inked fingers wrapped around you, your mind flashing back to how he held you back as Taehyung split you open with his fingers in your dream. Your eyes traveled up to Jungkook's face, his expression nervous as his other hand scratched the back of his neck. His eyes were locked on yours, unwavering.
"I wanted you to know it really isn't something I do often. I... It was a one time thing, and I was a bit tipsy and it just happened. I'm really not like that, usually."
The type to hook up with random women, or the type who did what he apparently did, in that way?
You gulped, trying not to think about it. "It's alright, Jungkook. You don't owe me an explanation."
"I know. I just... felt like you should know."
"Oh." Your lips pursed and went small, and you were unsure what to make of the situation. "Ok."
His eyes scanned your face, trying to read what you were thinking to no avail. He finally let go of your wrist, and where he touched felt like it burned. "I'm... going to make you some soup or something. You're really burning up."
Your hands flew to your cheeks, and it felt like you were practically boiling alive. "Oh," you said again. "Thank you."
Maybe you really were coming down with something. One could only hope it had all just been some fucked up fever dream.
—
One time was just a strange, fucked up incident. Twice was merely a coincidence.
Right?
At least that's what you told yourself as the days passed. You very much were not sick, as it turned out, but Jungkook made halfway-decent chicken soup, so who were you to complain? Besides... it was kind of sweet.
All you had to do was avoid him in your tiny, tiny ass apartment. All you had to do was not absolutely ogle him every time he came back from a run, drenched in sweat, shirt hugging him in all the right places. You just needed to turn around and go back to your room when he popped out of the shower, inexcusably indecent despite living with a woman.
You had to remind yourself also that he didn't see you as a woman. You were Y/N, the girl who saw him as nothing more than scum at the bottom of her shoe, someone he had known for his entire life.
He could never, ever know about the secrets hidden beneath his stack of notes.
You considered briefly stealing the book and hiding it in your room, but considering how meticulous and anal Jungkook was about details, there was no doubt he'd notice its absence immediately. Maybe you could buy another book and swap them out?
But... sometimes when you were sure he was asleep or out of the apartment, you'd shuffle past the rose toys and handcuffs in your nightstand drawer, and pull out your trusty Hitachi, plugging it into your extension cord and thinking back to the dreams that haunted you. You'd grab the notebook, eyes scanning over the graphic words, recounting every last nasty thing that had happened in your imagination. You had become quite the writer, it seemed.
Knowing that it was your mind that had created these scenarios with him was baffling. Sure, you had no one to blame but yourself, but you still felt Jungkook should take some accountability for the state you were in.
The worst times were when you'd hear his room or the front door open, and you'd have to hastily yank the cord out of the outlet and let your orgasm die out. You'd silently pray he didn't catch the low buzz emanating from your room, or notice the stack of notebooks was a little bit shorter. Worst of all, you'd have to let your orgasm fade away, knowing that the walls were too thin and the space was too cramped for you to be getting away with indulging in your lewd fantasies.
It was like he was unknowingly edging you, which only pissed you off further.
Jungkook was busy showering when you snuck back into the living room, slipping your favorite notebook out from beneath the stack. Unfortunately it was one of those days at work that left you completely exhausted and frustrated beyond belief, and you knew you were going to need all the stress relief you could get tonight. Sure, was obsessively rereading the porno scenarios you came up with about your roommate wrong? Indulging in your fantasies that you could never actually partake in? A debatable maybe. But what Jungkook didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
You heard the water turn off, and despite knowing you should hide back in your bedroom, you stayed. Just a peek. Just a little boost for your session tonight, that's all you'd need.
As usual, Jungkook emerged only in a towel hugging dangerously low on his waist. It was pretty much a sin for him to come out like that.
Your gaze explored his impeccable form, the sight of his bare chest and abs most likely enough masturbation material on its own. Pulling a face, you glowered at him. "Why don't you just bring your change of clothes with you when you go in? Or do you just like strutting around the apartment naked?"
He rolled his eyes, running a towel along his hair. "It's just you. What's the big deal?"
You huffed, sliding the notebook to straighten back in place beneath the stack before he could take notice. "Just me. Right."
His brows furrowed. "What? I meant—"
"No no, I know what you meant," you said, standing from the sofa to retreat back to your room. "I hardly see you as a person anyways, much less a man."
He quirked a brow. "Is that so?"
"It is."
"Then why are you always checking me out?"
You felt your blood freeze, and suddenly you're so, very still. You turn your head to him, blinking rapidly, mind scrambling to come up with a response.
"You're delusional," you spat.
"You were doing it just now. You do it every time I step out of the shower, you should be used to it by now."
You guffawed at his accusation. "I-I do not! How do you expect me to react, seeing a man prance around my apartment half naked?"
His lips quirked up at your words. "I thought you didn't see me as a man."
Your eyes practically bulged out of your head in anger. "I don't. Like you'd be any different if I was always walking around here in nothing but a towel! Bet you'd just love that, perv."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Y/N."
He finally turned around to disappear into his room, leaving you to grab one of the sofa pillows and scream into it out of frustration. Fuck. He had noticed. You should've known you were being too obvious, but you just couldn't help yourself.
And you definitely didn't sleep well that night.
—
Jungkook had you bent over the kitchen counter, your pajama pants pooled around your ankles, his hands squeezing your hips as he rubbed his bulge against your ass. You whined, trying to buck back and grind against him harder, but he kept you in place, pushing you against the counter until your hips were flush against the cold surface.
"You want me to finally put it in you?" He asked huskily in your ear. "Think you can take it?"
You nodded, desperate and pleading, reaching back so you could pull him closer. He didn't let you, grabbing your hands and slapping them down on the counter, grinding his hips harder as you felt the full length of him against you, hidden behind fabric.
"Need it, Jungkook, so bad."
"Mm, know you do," he hummed, "But do you deserve it?"
You think back on your behavior that day and shamefully shook your head. "I don't," you quietly admitted.
He smiled against your ear. "Right answer."
Your heart leaped as he let go of one of your hands, hearing the rustling of clothes as he rid himself of his pants. You gasped as you felt the full length of him land between your cheeks, the size feeling so much bigger than you remembered. Your legs shook, and your pussy got wetter in anticipation.
"Gonna split that tiny pussy in half, just the way you like it," Jungkook promised, grabbing one of your legs and lifting it up. He turned you so you were facing the side, one of your legs in the air as he hooked your ankle over one of his shoulders. He grabbed your hair, forcing you to look down at his enormous cock so close to your pussy, threatening to plunge into you. You bit your lip, feeling yourself involuntarily clench around nothing just looking at the mere size of him.
"This is what you wanted, right?" He asked under his breath, grabbing his cock and running the tip over your folds, letting it travel up to your clit and down to your entrance, but never pushing. "The cock you've been obsessing over like a desperate little slut?"
You nodded in his hold, licking your lips. "Yeah that's," you let out a shaky breath. "That's what I wanted."
"Yeah?" He slowly breached your hole, pushing in just the head, only about an inch, before pulling out, watching the disappointment and impatience in your expression. "Fuck, you're making such a mess on the floor and I haven't even put it in yet."
You looked down, and sure enough the way he teased you with his cock was enough to leave your wet pussy dripping onto the kitchen tiles, a small puddle beneath you.
You moved your hips back, trying to entice him into putting it in again, just a bit deeper. "Please don't tease me."
"But it's so fun. I think you like being bullied, in fact," he slaps his cock against your pussy, watching you wince with each tap. "I think you get wetter the meaner I get."
You shook your head in denial, but he had none of it, hand letting go of his cock to slap against your ass, making you jump. The one leg you stood on shook beneath you, and he hugged the one pressed against him tighter, giving you an uncomfortable stretch and leaving you exposed to one half of the room. "None of that. We both know the truth. You're just a little masochist who wants me to fuck the shit out of her. A desperate little slut."
He positioned the tip back at your hole, sliding in the tip and an inch extra, laughing at how you gasped and stretched around the bulbous head. "So fucking tight. How am I supposed to fit my cock in here, huh?"
"M-Make it fit," you insisted, biting your lip as he pushed in an extra inch.
"Yeah? Would it help if Taehyung was on his knees right now, licking that little clit to make you wetter for me?" Jungkook teased, pulling out again slightly before continuing his shallow thrust.
You shook your head again. You wouldn't be able to handle both of them again, especially with Jungkook's cock inside you this time. "No, don't want him, just need you. Just want you."
"Oh?" He bullied in another inch, watching your face contort at how full you were feeling already. He was only about halfway in. "Why don't you touch your clit and make it easier on yourself, huh? Get this pussy nice and wet for me."
It didn't matter that you were already embarrassingly wet, you did as you were told, a shaky hand coming down to run along your folds.
Jungkook tsked. "Not like that. Do it the way I would."
You brought your hand up a bit higher, rubbing small circles along it.
"That's not it. We both know I wouldn't be so sweet with you."
Jungkook sunk into you a bit deeper and reached around, smacking your hand away and pinching the poor bud between two fingers, using force as he rubbed it. He snickered at your reaction. "Thaaat's it. Feel how you clench around me? Pussy feels so good, doesn't want to let me go."
You panted, feeling him go deeper into you than you had ever experienced, and the stretch had you feeling so full you were going crazy. And he wasn't even all the way in yet.
"Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Just needed a nice, fat cock to shut you up, isn't that right?" He chuckled, sliding in just a bit more, his fingers tapping against your engorged clit with teasing pats. "Little brat just needed to be filled."
With that he finally pushed completely in, balls pressed beneath you as he buried himself to the hilt. The tip pressed snuggly against your cervix, as though you two were a perfect fit. Tears sprung in your eyes from how overwhelmed you were, and he twisted your face to look at him, his cocky, satisfied grin taunting you. He stayed still like that, letting you enjoy the uncomfortable stretch of your thighs and pussy around his enormous cock, all while forcing you to look at him, so it'd be ingrained in your mind who did this to you.
"You're nothing but a hole to take my cock right now," he said lowly, the words a gentle caress in your ear. "Know you like it that way, too."
Another drop splashed onto the embarrassing puddle beneath you.
"Feel that?" His hand stopped torturing your clit and came up to your stomach, pushing right below your belly button, making you feel him inside. "Feel how deep I am? Has anyone reached here, baby?"
You shook your head, your pussy squeezing around him as you tried to adjust to his size.
He chuckled. "Didn't think so. Bet you feel nice and full. Aren't you so lucky?"
"Yes, I am, fuck." You tried to blink away the tears. His cock was fucking enormous, hitting sweet spots inside you you didn't even know existed. You really did feel like you were being split in half. "You're so fucking big."
"Yeah baby? Like the way I stretch you out? You took it so well, didn't know you had it in you." He pressed harder against the bulge protruding in your abdomen, letting you feel how deep it was. "Now I want you imagine what it'll be like when I finally fuck you with it."
—
You gasped, feeling all too sticky for your liking. You glanced at the clock.
4:45 AM.
Slowing your breath, you grabbed one of your pillows and screamed into it, kicking at your ruined sheets.
Fuck, it really wasn't over.
You had a problem.
It continued like that for much longer than you had ever hoped. Early morning laundry at the most ridiculous times. Downing coffee constantly because you were practically afraid of falling asleep again and seeing him. Jungkook had completely ruined your sleep schedule. You ended up buying another set of sheets to add to the rotation, and now you were filling up the notebook with more porn than the calculus notes it started off with.
You were frustrated beyond belief, Jungkook taunting you every waking and sleeping moment. It's not like he had any clue, which only made it worse. He got to obliviously prance around the place, whereas you were suffering in his mere presence. Admittedly you were taking out your unwarranted frustration on him, but you couldn't help it. Every time you were greeted with those innocent, doe eyes you were reminded of the sadistic glint in them the night before. Your body had a reaction any time you saw him, your insides screaming and a heartbeat in your nether regions when he so much as glanced to you.
You became much more snippy with him, cutting conversations short and being much more bitchy than usual, and that was saying something.
Poor Jungkook had no clue what he had done so wrong.
"Seriously, what has been your issue?" He confronted you, arms crossed as he caged you into the kitchen, blocking the way out.
"You," you snapped, downing a cup of coffee, trying not to think of the dream that had left your panties drenched.
Both of your handcuffs had been used to lock your wrists on either bedpost, your sleep mask covering your eyes as you leaned forward, arms straining as you tried to break free. Your mouth was gaping, tongue dangling from your mouth like a dog, Jungkook's cock mere centimeters from your lips. You could practically taste the pre-cum that was oozing out of the tip.
Jungkook's hands gripped the bedpost above you, hips just far back enough to deny you of what you were craving. His cruel chuckle met your ears as he watched your desperation.
"C'mon, you're barely even trying. You must not want it bad enough."
You tried to inch forward more, barely getting any closer.
"That's it, you're almost there." Jungkook took his cock in one hand and stroked it slowly, hand twisting over the head to spread the lubricant over it. "You want my cock so bad. C'mon, know you can almost taste it."
You mewled when you finally felt the tip on your lips, licking over the small slit and sticking your tongue out so you could twirl it around the head.
You snapped out of the daydream and back to reality, the taste of Jungkook's pre-cum still being on the tip of your tongue. Your face burned as you tried to step past him, but he blocked your exit.
"Yeah, it's always me, which I don't get because I've been completely decent to you. I thought we were actually getting along for a second. But lately you've just been a complete bitch to me for no reason."
You fumed, not in the mood for the conversation. Sure, Real-Jungkook had been civilized, but Dream-Jungkook had been nothing but an animal. "What? You were expecting me to like you all of the sudden? Please."
You tried to step around him again, but he stepped to the same side, not letting up. "We used to get along as kids, y'know. What happened?"
You did not want to think about when you were kids. "I realized I hated you. I still hate you. Simple."
"Why?" His nostrils flared. "I never understood it. One day you suddenly decided you wanted nothing to do with me. What's the reason?"
Your mouth dropped open as your mind scrambled for an explanation, but nothing came out.
Jungkook let out a scoff. "You can't fucking stand me, and you don't even know why. It's pathetic."
Pathetic. That word rung in your head, the same word he'd whisper into your ear in your dreams when he made you cum over and over again. Your face burned up more, and you took a step back, putting up an accusatory finger. "Please! Don't act like you like me all of the sudden. We only moved in together out of convenience, not because we're actually friends or anything."
He bared his teeth, glaring at you. "You know what? You're right. I hate you too. Can't fucking stand you right now."
"Good!" you shot back.
He finally moved out of the way towards his room, and you stomped out of the kitchen to the sofa, turning your back to grab at the notebook, fire in your veins. He was the reason you were suffering so much, and you knew just from seeing him pissed you were going to have another rough night.
"What the fuck is up with you and that book?" Jungkook hissed. Apparently he hadn't gone to his room just yet. Stupid you, not waiting until you heard his door closed.
You spun around, scowling. "What, a girl can't fucking learn now and then?"
"You're always going through it, I didn't even write that many notes."
"Well I have to go over it again and again since I didn't take Calc 1, remember?" You quickly tried to cover your tracks, gripping onto the book like it were a life line. "Stop being so obsessed with me and mind your business, maybe."
Jungkook gritted his teeth, a vein popping up along his neck out of anger. "Fucking whatever. Suit yourself."
Finally, you heard his door slam shut, and you let out a breath of relief.
—
Luckily for you, Jungkook's finals were coming up, so your real-life interactions with him were much more limited. Most of the time he would simply give you a grunt of acknowledgement when you came home from work, sitting at the sofa, surrounded by his notes. At first you got a bit anxious that he was so close to your previous book, but the bottom half of the stack remained mostly undisturbed. Hell, he was now sleeping in more and skipping his morning runs, up late studying, which meant when you were up from one of those terrible, awful, no good dreams, you could do your laundry and scribble in the book in peace.
You were running out of pages, and seriously had to consider going out and buying a notebook of your own if this were to keep up. You weren't sure how much more of this could take. Maybe it'd be worth it to move back in with your parents. At least then you'd be freed of this torment.
You were having to buy so many things lately. New bedsheets for the rotation. Another book for you to scribble out the depraved fantasies that should never see the light of day. Hell, maybe even a new vibrator, because Dream-Kook just loved reminding you how much you needed to be filled, and it seemed to be more and more true every day. He was turning out to be quite the expense.
Occasionally you considered sleeping with someone else to get it out of your system. Maybe taking up Taehyung on his offer. He was in a dream too, after all. But Jungkook was already beyond pissed at you, and sleeping with his friend would surely and rightfully send him over the edge. You were afraid what would happen if he were to actually snap, and with how much you two had been bickering lately, his patience was clearly running thin. Even if you were to bring another man home with you, something told you it wasn't a great idea. For some reason you hated the idea of Jungkook knowing.
Even in your dreams he seemed to taunt you about it.
"Now what would you do that for? You know no one can satisfy you the way I can, stretch you out as like me. Why don't you stop wasting everyone's time and just ask? Maybe beg nicely and I'll actually give you what you want."
Nope. Not happening. There was absolutely no way you could let Jungkook know you had been thinking about him like this. If your sinful thoughts ever got to him, you'd never hear the end of it. The mere thought of him finding out mortified you. It was bad enough he had caught you checking him out one too many times. What would happen if he were to discover every graphic detail of what you dreamt of him doing to you?
Work had been hell. It seemed your dreams had morphed into daydreams, distracting you throughout the day now and invading every aspect of your life. You had zoned out thinking about Jungkook using BDSM tape, covering your pussy to trap his cum inside, and turning your Hitachi on the highest setting as it pressed against you.
Let's just say you were less than productive today. Clearly your desires were morphing becoming depraved by the day. You were going clinically insane.
You muttered to yourself as you fumbled with your keys in the door. You had to stay overtime to make up for the work lost during your daydreaming. Honestly, you should find some way to legally sue Jeon Jungkook. It was the least you could do. This sleep deprivation was a literal form of torture, who could blame you for going a bit insane? That's what you told yourself when you ate some of Jungkook's cinnamon buns out of retribution. At least you had tomorrow off.
Tonight you were going to wait until the Jungkook eventually tired himself out from studying, and go ham on yourself with the Hitachi. Write down the little daydream that had you squirming in your seat, too. You uncomfortably pulled at your skirt and smoothed over your button down, noting to yourself that you should probably wear pants to work for the foreseeable future.
You slammed the door shut, seeing Jungkook hunched over his papers as usual. You gave him a passing grunt of acknowledgement, tossing your keys into the bowl.
He looked up at you from over the couch, and there was something in his eyes you couldn't quite place. He seemed almost angry, which didn't make sense because you had just gotten here. Did he know you ate one of his protein bars this morning or something? Maybe he was just frustrated from studying.
"Not even a hello?" You scoffed. Usually he'd at least grunt back at you. Rude.
You walked past the couch to go to your room, but spotted something from the corner of your eye.
In Jungkook's hand was his red Calc 2 notebook.
Your eyes widened, and you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible as your mind scrambled. No. There was no way. He never even touched that fucking book! He finished that class a semester ago, why would he? Maybe he didn't go to the last pages. He himself knew he only filled out maybe a third of it, he probably stayed in that section.
Your eyes darted between your bedroom door and your front door, weighing the two options. Should you lock yourself in your bedroom and refuse to come out? You'd probably wither and starve in there, but it'd be better than inevitably having to come out and face Jungkook. Maybe go back to the front door and drive away? That'll look too suspicious!
Calm down, Y/N!
You halted your hesitation, taking shaky steps toward your bedroom. You were just being paranoid. That's it.
You twisted the knob, opening it barely an inch before a tattooed hand above you slammed it back shut.
You froze.
Slowly turning around and facing up, you gulped in fear, coming face to face with Jungkook.
He now hovered over you, eyes dark as he caged you in with his large body, notebook clutched tightly in the hand that wasn't refusing you access to your bedroom.
He seemed much too calm for your liking, eerily quiet as he took in your nervous expression, the way you trembled like a leaf underneath him already, guilt written all over your face.
Jungkook lifted the notebook to eye level, the sharpied Calc 2 title taunting you. "Care to tell me what this is?"
Your mouth felt very dry all of the sudden, and your eyes flitted about your surroundings, searching for an escape. "Y-Your notes?"
"Oh really? Because I don't remember writing," he opened the book with one hand, letting it land on a random page, "about how I was so deep inside you, you felt me in the back of your throat."
You felt all the blood drain from your face, color being washed away. You were too ashamed to even look at him. "I... I can explain."
"Oh I'd love an explaination." He snapped the book shut dramatically. "I'd love to hear whatever excuse you came up with as to why you used nearly 200 of my pages to write twisted porn about me."
You wanted to die. You wanted die right here, right now. For the floor to swallow you whole.
Your mouth dropped, but no sound escaped you. What could you say? He clearly saw everything. Every goddamn graphic detail you had scribbled into that stupid book had now come to bite you in the ass.
"Thought you didn't see me as a man, Y/N." He tsked, narrowing his eyes as he waved the book in your face. "Was wondering what had you so fucking obsessed with this. Knew you weren't just studying my fucking calculus notes. How long have you been writing these sick fantasies in here, huh?"
You stared down at the floor, and Jungkook grabbed your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He looked beyond pissed. You tried to swallow, your knees threatening to give out under you. "S-Since I talked to Layla."
A small breath escaped his lips. "Is that right?" His mouth quirked up, a near smirk appearing on his face. "What'd she tell you, huh?"
You shook your head, closing your eyes.
He craned your neck up, forcing your to arch your back against the door, the back of your head now pressed against it. He gritted his teeth. "Answer me," he demanded.
"Told me you were big," you gasped out. "That you were rough. And mean."
Jungkook tilted his head. "Is that right?"
Your bottom lip trembled, feeling the blood now rush to your cheeks. You couldn't escape Jungkook's tight grasp or scrutinizing glare, forced to feel the humiliation from being caught. "It's all your fault," you deflected. "It's your fucking fault I've been having these dreams. You made me do it."
"I did?" His nostrils flared, fingers tensing around your face, pressing into your cheeks with anger. Your lips jutted out, rendering you silent. "You're blaming me for you writing out this absolute filth? About how you begged for my cock, how you dreamed of me putting my tongue anywhere I pleased, using you? No, you don't get to put this on me."
"I do!" You barely managed to gasp the words out through his grip. Your hands reached for the notebook, but he held it out of your reach, refusing to give it up. You wrenched your face free from his hold, glaring at him with disdain. "You've been galavanting half naked practically every day! It's your fault I haven't gotten any fucking sleep, that I'm fucking tormented with these dreams to the fact I had to write it out to get it out of my system! I haven't been able to sleep properly in weeks! I'm constantly having to wash my sheets, hide in my own fucking apartment, all because of you! I fucking hate you!"
Jungkook's gaze hardened, and suddenly he was very,very quiet.
"Is that so?"
Suddenly you regretted your words, because he twisted he knob behind you, and you felt yourself falling back into the door you had previously been leaning on. Jungkook doesn't let you hit the ground, though, hand again clasped around your jaw as he walked you backwards, letting your back hit the mattress.
He climbed on top of you, throwing the notebook aside as he pinned you down. "Say it again."
Your eyes were wide as you stared up at him, one of his hands beside your head and the other one holding a firm grip on your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact.
Very quietly, you whispered out the words. "I hate you."
That's when Jungkook did something he never had in any of your dreams.
He leaned down and kissed you.
You immediately gasped in surprise, and Jungkook didn't wait to force his tongue in your mouth, completely overwhelming you as he pressed his mouth harder against yours. You couldn't even turn away, having to take it as he explored every part of you available, his movements precise and deliberate as if he had something to lose. On instinct, and not wanting to lose, you found yourself kissing him back, pink muscle dancing with his as you kissed him harder, screwing your eyes shut and giving him everything you had. His kiss wasn't gentle or sweet, instead an angry clash of tongue and teeth as he ravished your mouth, as though he were trying to teach you a lesson through that alone. Your hands wove in his hair, the tendrils just as soft as you always imagined.
"Fucking hate you, too," he growled against your lips, the vibrations from his words making your stomach flip. "Gonna show you how much."
You couldn't fucking believe you were doing this with Jungkook, the boy you swore hated since you started becoming fully conscious. The boy, turned man, who made your stomach do somersaults and knew you since the two of you were little kids. There was so much shared history between you two that couldn't be forgotten, too many years. And here he was, licking into your mouth and swallowing every whine and whimper like it was fucking owed to him.
After what felt like forever, he finally allowed you air, both of you gasping for breath, a line of saliva still connecting you two before snapping off. He glared at you with absolute intensity, his hand letting go of your jaw to land on the other side of your head and support his weight.
Both of you were still breathless, staring at each other, your eyes wide and his narrowed.
You couldn't believe he had actually done it. You also couldn't believe that you actually liked it, a lot more in reality than you ever would have in your dreams.
"You're such a dirty liar," he hissed. "You only hate me because you want me."
"Y-You're fucking delusional," you denied, despite the fact it was clearly pointless. Anyone could see you were lying out of your ass.
"Am I?" Before you can stop him, his hand shoved your skirt up to your waist, yanking your panties and twisting the fabric as he ripped them down your thighs.
You didn't even have time to hide it. You were so embarrassingly wet, thick strings of your arousal stretching from your messy cunt to the patch in your underwear as it desperately tried to cling to it.
Jungkook scowled back at your mortified expression, eyes glued to how wet you had gotten just from his kiss and confrontation. "Don't you dare lie to me when your pussy reacts like this," he growled, hand coming up and landing a sharp smack right on your center.
You let out an wanton moan, unable to hide it as you bucked back against his hand, thighs rubbing together now like matches. Jungkook had none of it, grabbing your knees and forcing them apart so he could take a good look at your shame. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he stared at you, unable to hide the evidence of how he affected you.
"How long were you planning on hiding this from me, huh?" His hand came up to your pussy, running between the slippery folds, your slick collecting on his fingers. "How long were you going to keep the fact that you've been having these nasty dreams about me almost every night?"
You bit your lip, closing your eyes, refusing to answer.
Jungkook didn't like that.
He slapped your cunt again, manhandling your legs back apart when you tried to shut them back together. "Fucking answer or I swear to God I'll edge you for hours."
"Forever," you admitted, shame washing over you. "You were never supposed to know."
"Oh? So you were just going to keep this a secret?" He slipped two fingers around your clit before pinching, the same way he did in your dreams, watching you whine at the sensation and squeal. "Were never going to tell me about how you thought about me fucking your face until you passed out? Or sharing you with my friend? Or how I used every nasty sex toy in your drawer on you until you were begging me to stop?"
"F-Fuck, Jungkook!" He pinched you again, rubbing harder against your clit as it became engorged. "Please, please, just—"
"What?" He rubbed slower now, tantalizing circles that made you want to grind down on him harder. "Have mercy? When you were being such a brat a minute ago?"
He didn't wait before plunging two digits inside of you, and you were so wet he didn't even meet any resistance. He curled them up, pressing them against that rough patch that had your toes curl. "I'm not going to be nice to you anymore. We both know you don't want that anyway."
Your hands wrapped around his wrist, feeling the way his muscles worked with every curl of his fingers inside of you. It felt far more overwhelming than any of your dreams already, his cologne wrapping around you and making your brain foggy, his digits moving with expertise threatening make you cum hard enough to see stars.
You couldn't give in so easily. You were mortified by the thought of him knowing it only took his fingers to make you undone.
You bit your lip, holding back your moans as best you could, swallowing every whimper that threatened to expose you.
"What happened to all those cute moans earlier, huh princess?" His tone was belittling, making you feel smaller beneath him. "C'mon, don't be shy. You certainly weren't in that little notebook of yours."
"Was faking them," you hissed through gritted teeth, not wanting to give in. He always hated how stubborn you were.
His eyes narrowed. "Faking it huh?" He pressed his other hand down against your abdomen, shoving another finger inside of you and increasing the speed of his thrusts. "Let's see how well you can fake it, then."
You could hardly contain your squeal as all three fingers quirked up, jackhammering into your sweet spot, his other hand pressing hard against your bladder to let you feel the pressure building up. His thumb toyed with your clit, swiping quick circles, and the sloppy lewd sounds of your wet pussy filled your room with undeniable proof. You dug your nails into his wrists, almost hard enough for him to bleed, but he didn't stop, licking his lips as if he could already taste your orgasm on his tongue.
He buried his fingers as deep as he could manage, grinding his thumb against your clit as you whimpered underneath him. A sadistic smile spread on his face as he leaned in closer, making you hear how your wet pussy swallowed his fingers. "Want me to stop? I can always leave you here like this, since you hate it so much."
You quickly shook your head, already wanting to cry at the thought, and your chest burned with humiliation as he laughed at you. He slipped his pinky into you as well, four fingers filling and stretching you, his thrusts brutal as he slammed them into you. He barely managed to squeeze all four of his digits into you, your tight cunt practically strangling them as you clenched down. "No? Don't stop? Thought you were faking it, baby."
"Please, don't... don't..!"
Your unfinished sentence hung in the air as your ass rose from the mattress, liquid spilling out of you and splashing onto Jungkook's clothes and the mattress. He cursed, fucking you harder with his fingers, wringing out every drop you had to over until you were left trembling like a leaf. His eyes looked practically insane, dark and enamored in how you fell apart beneath him, only making him want more.
When you collapsed back down, he finally pulled out, grinning as he took a long lick along his hand, tasting your cum. You were left flushed and breathless, mind blank as you tried to process the fact Jungkook had just made you squirt like that.
"Tell me you faked that. Go ahead. Try." You couldn't, there was no use, and he knew it. He chuckled, slapping his wet hand against your puffy sex, cruelly laughing at how your hips jumped again. "Can't believe you have such a weak pussy, cumming so easily from just my fingers. Fucking squirted everywhere, ruined my clothes. You should apologize."
"You... You made your point—"
You weren't able to finish, Jungkook's hand wrapping around your throat to cut you off.
"Shut up."
He clambered over you between your thighs, other hand coming up to your mouth. He pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, and you obediently opened, letting him in and sucking on it, tasting some of your arousal on him. He ground his hips against yours, and you felt the thick, heavy bulge press against you.
His fingers tensed around your neck, a small whimper passing through as you stared up at him with wide, deceitfully innocent eyes.
"Aw." He smirked, tilting his head at you. "You're actually kind of cute like this."
You opened your mouth to make some sort of retort, but he squeezed again, halting any bratty comment you were about to make.
"Should've fucking known. The sudden obsession with my notes. The random laundry hours. The way you'd spend forever in your room fucking yourself with your vibrator. How you'd stare at me like you wanted me to destroy you, just like this." He pressed his thumb against your tongue, pinning it down. "Open."
You did as you were told, parting your mouth as he pursed his lips, letting a wad of spit dangle down his tongue and into your waiting mouth. He pulled out his thumb. "Swallow."
Obediently, you did so, feeling Jungkook's palm pressed against your throat as you swallowed.
His fingers flexed around the column. "Want me to fuck your throat? Want me to suffocate you on the cock you've been fucking obsessing over?"
You nodded eagerly, only to be delivered a sharp slap to your mouth. Your jaw tingled with delicious pain, a dull throb starting as he glared down at you with absolute disgust. Most embarrassing of all was the unabashed moan that unintentionally escaped your lips as soon as he hit you.
"You don't deserve it," he spat. "Say it."
"I..." You swallowed again, harder now with how Jungkook's hand tightened on your neck. "I don't deserve it."
"Deserve what?"
"I don't deserve to suck your cock!" Jungkook finally let go of your throat, and you sucked in greedy amounts of air as oxygen refilled your lungs.
"That's right," he tsked, finally pulling back. "Brats like you don't deserve shit from me."
He hooked his hands under your knees, forcing them up and folding you in half, pressing them into your shoulders. Your bare cunt twitched under his harsh stare, and you tried to reach for him to no avail. All of your holes were exposed, his for the taking.
"Such a pretty fucking pussy." He admired your messy cunt in awe, watching how you quivered in anticipation of what he'd do next. "Can't believe you've been keeping this from me."
Unable to resist any longer, he dove in, burying his tongue in you as far as it would go, mashing his nose up against your clit as he breathed you in. You moaned, fingers tangling into his locks, tugging at the strands as he went as deep as his jaw would allow. "Jungkook!" You cried, gasping at the sensation.
"Like this?" He mumbled into you, coming up for air just for a second to spit on your pussy, licking a broad stripe up your core. "Like the man you hate eating your nasty little cunt?"
You felt your cheeks burn at his dirty words, squirming as he attached his mouth again, the tip of his tongue flicking up and down your clit without hesitation. He sucked on it before slurping up the wetness that came pouring out of you, the sloppy, obscene sounds only adding to your further embarrassment. You couldn't even do a good job at pretending to hate this anymore. It was clear to both you and Jungkook that you were loving every second.
"This weak pussy gonna cum for me again?" He asked, making eye contact as he licked up your pussy again, watching you whimper as the tip of his tongue brushed your clit. "Gonna show me how pathetic you really are?"
Your hand curled into a fist in his hair, making his scalp sting. You held on to whatever remnants of your pride was left. "I-I won't!"
"Mm, you will," he smiled against you, and you felt the insertion of two digits again, curling back into the spot that destroyed you before. You moaned, head tilting back as you knew you were already done for. "Want me to fuck up this pussy so bad. Don't even need my dick to break you. You're such a desperate slut, you'd take anything."
You nodded, knowing everything he said was factual. You didn't even have the will-power to deny it.
"You don't even deserve to feel this good," Jungkook growled, glaring down at you, his fingers vicious as they pounded into you. The wet squelch from between your thighs, and how you clamped down on his fingers like a vice, let him know you knew it was the truth. "Yet here I am, being so fucking nice to you, when you've been nothing but a bitch to me for years."
His mouth latched on your clit again, giving harsh sucks until your thighs quaked, and you were gushing into his mouth all over again. You felt your eyes begin to cross, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, and all you could feel was Jungkook's lips around your clit and his fingers curling inside you, pressed right up on the spot that had you seeing stars.
Your legs finally fell back flat on the bed, and your chest rose and sunk with every breath you took. Jungkook's mouth detached from you, a smirk of satisfaction on his glistening face and rosy lips.
"You didn't even pretend to fight it on that one. Don't tell me you're giving up already," he snickered, spreading your pussy with his thumbs, watching it twitch and quiver in your post-orgasmic state. "I've barely even started."
He manhandled you over on your stomach, pulling your ass into the air and slapping it hard enough for your entire cheek to sting.
"Y-You're so f-fucking mean," you whined.
"Yeah? Hearing you cry like that only makes me want to be meaner," he grinned, gripping your ass with both hands and spreading your cheeks to expose your holes, your wet pussy not helping your predicament. He dug his nails in before smacking the already sore cheek. "I can't help that you like to get fucked like this."
You yelped, turning back to him with tears in your eyes. "S-Sadistic bastard," you hissed.
"Masochistic slut," he smiled, spanking your other cheek.
Finally, you heard the rustling of clothes behind you, and you couldn't help but crane your neck to finally, finally see what you've been waiting for all this time.
You stared at the literal dick of your dreams, gigantic and thick, everything you had imagined and more. He was hung as hell, just like you dreamed. Jungkook's monster cock looked like it should only belong in porn. It didn't help that Jungkook was unfairly, haughtily, and all to aware of this, his cocky grin as he tugged his shirt over his head telling you he knew exactly what you were thinking.
"Big enough for you princess?" He mocked, his voice teasing. His body was a perfect match for his dick, large and hard and perfectly built to wreck you. "Is it exactly like you dreamed of?"
You hated how he read you like an open book, knowing he didn't even ask. He just wanted to humiliate you even more. Defiantly, you eyed up his cock, jutting up your chin at him. "I expected better."
His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared at your brattiness. "Yeah?" He gripped onto your hips, sliding your skirt to bunch up your waist further. "You should have no problem taking it, then."
You immediately regretted your decision when he shoved your head down into your pillows, tapping the head of his cock against your folds with wet smacks. His grip on your ass was possessive, fingers digging in as he teased his cockhead against your hole, barely thrusting in half an inch in and out as your pussy made loud, filthy noises. Even with how dripping wet you were and the two orgasms prior, you weren't sure if you'd be able to take him in the same way you had in your fantasies.
Still, the way he barely let you feel the tip was driving you crazy. You gnawed at your lip, trying to push back to have him sink into you, but his grip on your hips was too strong. "Just put your stupid dick in me already!"
"Oh? So much attitude." He sunk in a bit further, the head of him inside you now, and how thick it already felt made your thighs quiver at the prospect. "Want me to fuck up your insides so bad but can't even ask nicely. Stupid brat still needs to be put in her place."
He gave you another inch, laughing at how you quieted down, savoring how your walls flitted around him, trying to accommodate his intimidating girth.
"Oh? So quiet now. Why's that?" He slid in a bit more, hissing at how you squeezed him so tight. You on the other hand, gripped onto the bed sheets, rendered silent as you pondered how you were really going to fit all of him in you like this. "Where'd all that bitchiness go?"
Jungkook was met with resistance as he forced himself in you a bit further, and hissed with how you practically strangled his cock. He tried to pull his hips back and fuck you shallowly, but the way you gripped him tight like you didn't want to let him go made it difficult. "Fuck, how're you still so tight? You're so fucking wet, made you squirt everywhere, and you're still choking on me like crazy."
"It's your fault!" You popped your head up to glare at him over his shoulders, your eyes glassy with tears. "Your s-stupid dick is too big."
He let out a breathless laugh. "Really? You gonna start crying already?"
He shoved your head back into the pillows, mounting you as he bullied his cock deeper inside.
"I'm not even halfway in yet, princess." He pushed his hips in more, snickering at how you gasped and tears sprung at the corner of your eyes. "You talked such big game, but you're struggling to take me. What good even are you?"
You didn't respond, his words true and causing your face to heat up with embarrassment.
"Do you need help, baby?"
Weakly, you nodded, bruising your pride as you admitted defeat. Jungkook laughed at your expense, clearly enjoying watching you let go of your stubbornness. Slowly but surely, he was breaking you just as promised.
"Where's your vibrator?"
Your stomach did a flip.
"What?"
"Your vibrator. The one I had to hear you fuck yourself with basically every day? When I was just a few feet away?" He cracked his hand down on your ass, the sound of the impact echoing in your bedroom. "Where is it?"
Warily, your eyes slid over to your nightstand, and Jungkook got the hint. Reaching over, he yanked out the drawer, your prized possessions revealed to him. Your handcuffs, rose toys, all of it was now privy to his scrutinizing gaze.
He clicked his tongue at the sight. "Well well, you've certainly got quite the collection, don't you?"
Humiliation heated your face, but somehow it only made you wetter, Jungkook's cock sliding in a bit deeper into your pussy. He hissed at the sensation.
"I think I'll go with this one."
Your eyes widened as he pulled out your favorite Hitachi wand, plugging the cord into the extension by your bed and having it whir to life. You tried to close your legs again, but Jungkook smacked one of your thighs, adjusting you so your legs spread even wider beneath him, your back dipping into a low arch. "None of that. You need help, remember?"
He brought the wand down beneath you, the buzzing head dangerously close to your dripping cunt. "This should do it."
He pressed it down against you, and you let out an obscene moan, legs starting to shake as you involuntarily sank down further against his cock. He only mashed it harder against your clit, loving how you unabashedly whined and kicked your feet as it overwhelmed you, your incessant moans too much to even try and hide.
"Thaaaat's it. Look how you're opening up for me." He was already more than halfway in you now, able to feel the vibrations of the wand on his dick as your walls slicked up more, welcoming him much quicker. Drops of you were starting to spill onto your sheets again, ruining them. "Good girl, you're almost there. Doing so good. You're taking me so well."
You were so glad Jungkook couldn't see your expression, the way your eyes were starting to cross and your toes were curling, your orgasm building up as he nuzzled the head deeper against your folds, making you feel every vibration as his cock plunged further and further into you.
Right when you felt your orgasm approach, he slammed completely into you, cockhead spearing to the deepest part of you against your cervix, hitting sweet spots you thought you only imagined, his balls flushed against your sopping folds. He pulled the vibrator away, turning it off, forcing you to feel the way you took all of him, and how so very full you were.
Even without the added stimulation of the Hitachi, you thought you were going crazy, clambering at the sheets as you tried to pull your hips back from him for mercy. He didn't give it to you, though, hips pushing forward with yours, forcing you to stay full and feel the way he stretched you completely. He ground as deep as he could against you, wanting you to feel every part of him.
"Don't run from it. You begged for this, remember?" He squeezed onto your hips, keeping your ass flush against him, not letting you escape. "That was what the vibrator was for."
Your legs trembled underneath you, his cockhead rubbing so deeply in you you felt your belly bulging beneath you. He wasn't even moving and you felt like you were going to burst.
"F-Fuck, Jungkook, please please please—" You dropped your head into your again pillows, babbling out nonsense into the cotton as he pressed his hips as hard against you as he could, feeling your gummy walls swallow him.
"Such a good pussy. Can't help but want to bully it even more," he rasped to himself, balls snug against your clit. Your arousal was coating even his thighs now, a large wet spot darkening on your sheets beneath you as you continued to drip. "Is this why you give me so much attitude all the time? Just hoping I could put you in your place like this? Use you however I want, just like you dreamed? "
You nodded into the pillow, turning your face, one tearful eye staring at him with pleas. "Yes, please just..."
"Just what?" A sadistic grin appeared on his lips. "Move?"
You don't even get the time to respond as he pulled his hips back, leaving just the fat head in you before slamming back in, the brutal thrust making your legs shake. His balls smacked against your clit and pressed against you as he leaned all his weight on you, and before you knew it you were cumming.
Your hands balled into fists as you let out a moan, and your mind went blank, unable to even worry about the noise complaints that were sure to follow in the morning.
Jungkook's evil laugh echoed in your ear as he watched you fall apart beneath him, his hands being the only thing holding you up. "Did you seriously just cum?" You wanted to slap the shit eating grin off his face. "You really are fucking weak."
He pulled back out again, thrusting into you, watching you scramble as he wrecked your pussy, repeatedly hitting those sweet spots over and over again. He leaned down, letting go of one of your hips to wrap his bicep around your throat, squeezing as he pulled you in to meet his thrusts, his other hand landing next to yours to keep himself up. You choked, face free from the pillows, tears streaming down your cheeks as he pounded into you, forcing you to take it like a good girl.
"So fucking pathetic," he cooed in your ear, his tone belittling with mock pity. "Wanted me to fuck you stupid when you're already fucking brainless."
You nodded in his hold, unable to do anything but agree and take it, his huge, pornstar cock destroying you with every passing thrust. He continuously grunted in your ear, his moans making your stomach churn as you heard how your pussy was wrecking him too.
"You really don't deserve such a good pussy, fuck," he cursed. "Shit's too good. Best pussy I've ever had, of fucking course it had to be you."
You felt the same way. You couldn't even process the fact that Jeon Jungkook of all people was giving you the best dick of your life. If someone told you that before the two of you moved in together, you would've had them checked into an asylum.
You used one hand that wasn't supporting yourself to grip onto his forearm, nails raking down it as you were forced to endure his brutal backshots. He growled in your ear, biting at the shell of it to give you a taste of pain too.
"S-So much," you gasped out. "Too deep."
"Yeah?" He yanked you up, straightening his back and arching yours as he forced you upright, bicep still curled around your neck. He pressed his hand on your stomach, the bulge protruding from you, moving as he pummeled into you. "Like it here? Like how fucking deep I am?"
You nodded, whining as he pushed down on you, pressure building.
His hand slid further down, toying with your clit, giving it that same mean pinch and rub that had you seeing stars. You were starting to go light-headed from his choking, the corners of your vision blurring, every little thing driving you mad. He twisted his arm, forcing you to turn your head toward him, and he captured your lips, forcing his tongue back in your mouth to make you go crazy, tasting him as he barreled into you.
"Dumb fucking slut," he mumbled against your lips.
You came again, going weightless in Jungkook's arms as your knees practically gave out, thighs quaking. You felt your arousal dripping down them and to your knees, and Jungkook fucked you through it, moaning as he felt your pussy spasm and clench around him like a vice.
He finally released you, unhooking his arm and letting you collapse face first into the bed, the strength drained from your body as he gripped back onto your hips, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts. He planted both feet on the bed, squatting over you as he used your limp body like a toy, burying himself balls deep again as he unloaded inside of you.
"Fucking t-take it!"
You whined, feeling his cock twitch and move, pressed right against your cervix, the warm fluid coating your walls in white.
At last Jungkook pulled out, cock still heavy after he drained his balls in you, leaking with leftover cum. Some trickled out of your hole, and your hips slowly slid down as you laid flat against the mattress, thoroughly fucked out.
Jungkook ran a hand through his sweaty hair, breathing heavily as he took in your limp state. Flipping you onto your back, you couldn't even protest.
He dragged your skirt down your legs and undid your shirt, pulling the offensive material off to finally see your bare form. He squeezed one of your tits, fingers tugging at a nipple as he watched you writhe at his touch. He leaned in, biting and sucking at the skin available to him to cover you in bruises and marks, evidence that would last for days and remind you of how he completely dominated you.
"You were right, you know. Earlier." He panted, enamored at your stiff nipples, toying with them as he pleased. He sucked at your neck, giving a cruel nip before licking over the marks left behind. "If you were walking around the apartment in just a towel, I don't think I would've been able to resist this slutty little body. I would've ripped it off you and bent you over the nearest surface. I wouldn't even be able to hold myself back."
He pinched both nipples, pulling them up to make your back arch, your whines music to his ears.
Licking his lips, he smirked. "You probably wouldn't have even tried to stop me."
You weakly nodded as he finally let go of you, but your relief is short lived, hearing the sound of a loud buzz returning. Opening your eyes, you see the hitachi back in his hands, thrumming back to life, his smile sadistic as he took in your expression.
"W-Wait!" You tried to cross your legs, but he forced them apart again, hand shoving against a knee to expose your puffy core to him once more.
"Can't have you talking shit again, baby," he cooed, spreading your spent cunt and pressing the vibrating head against you. "Need to make sure you to know who you belong to."
You practically screamed feeling the vibrator on you again, Jungkook's cum gushing out of you as your pussy spasmed. It pooled beneath your ass onto the sheets, the white liquid spilling between your cheeks. You felt like such a hot, sticky mess, but Jungkook didn't seem to care. His grin only widened as he continued to torture you with pleasure.
"Look at me," he commanded, gripping your jaw and forcing you to face him, staring between his face and the vibrator in his hand as he pressed it harder against you. "Want you to remember it was me who did this to you. Made you a fucking mess for me."
You cried, the overstimulation hurting oh so good, an orgasm you couldn't even avoid threatening to take over again. You didn't even know you could cum this much; you thought it was only the thing of dreams, but Jungkook was intent on outdoing your fantasies and then some.
"Should've just come to me instead of scribbling in that stupid little book," he chastised, watching as he milked out all of the cum from your pussy. He should fill it back up when you're empty again. "Should've let me ruin you the way you always wanted. Could've just knocked."
"I-I didn't think—"
"You never think," he shot back. "Don't use that pretty little head of yours for anything except insults, trying to get under my skin. Just hoping I'd fuck you hard enough to get rid of that bitchy attitude."
You nodded in agreement, feeling another orgasm take over you.
"Are you going to cum again? C'mon, thank me when you do."
"Th-Thank youuu!" You shouted out the words as you came, thighs trembling to the same tune as the vibrator, eyes on Jungkook just like he demanded.
When your whimpers transitioned into weak pleas, he finally turned the vibrator off, having mercy on your poor, sweaty form. Grabbing the backs of your knees again, he folds you in half, latching his mouth on your pussy again and burying his tongue in deep. He scooped out whatever cum was left on his tongue before spitting it on your clit, taking one hand and rubbing the cum in circles over it with his thumb. He shuffled closer, cock hard again.
With the last bit of strength and sanity you could muster, you reached for it, feeling the girth in your hand and how you almost couldn't close it properly around him. You stroked it, still slick with your cum, heavy and hard. It was crazy to you that you had been able to fit all of it in you, and you were all too willingly about to do it again.
You aligned it with your entrance, biting your lips as you tried to get him to enter you again. Clearly, Jeon Jungkook had broken you not only in body, but in mind too.
He seemed to know it, too, following your direction and slowly pushing back into you. You realized how empty you had felt before, and how delicious it felt to be full again.
"Gonna stretch you out so you can only take my cock," he muttered to himself, sliding in further and further, the glide much easier than the first attempt. "Gonna shape this pussy to remember my cock. No one will be able to satisfy you anymore. Not your vibrator, not your small, useless fingers. No one."
You knew every word he said was the truth, wrapping your legs around him to pull him in until his pelvis was flush against yours, balls pressing against your ass, all of his cum pushed out of you and only adding to the slick slide of him as bottomed out.
His fingers entangled with yours, pinning your hands over your head as he pulled his hips back, thrusting into you slowly at first. "Tell me you're mine," he demanded, leaning down so your lips would barely touch, forcing you to share the same breath. His eyes locked with yours, staring intensely as he studied the dreamy, fucked out gaze in yours. "Say it. No one can get in this pussy as deep as I can. No one can satisfy you like me."
You nodded. "I'm yours. H-Have been for a while."
"Always have," he grunted, eyes twisting shut as he started to get rougher with his pounding. His hands squeezed yours almost painfully. "You were always fucking mine. You're gonna come to me from now on. Every time this pussy gets wet, every time you have some dirty fucking dream about me, you're going to tell me, got it?"
Your legs squeezed around him tighter, feeling his pelvis grind against your clit, the poor, overstimulated nub practically screaming from the pain. "Yes!"
"Every time you give me that bitchy little attitude and start shit for no reason, I'm gonna fuck it out of you." He growled out the words, kissing you again, letting you feel the hum emanating from his throat. He hammered against your cervix, hard enough for you to worry it would feel bruised. You knew you were going to be sore as shit come morning, perhaps the entire week. "Gonna fuck the shit out of you just the way you want, and you're gonna take it like a good girl."
You moaned against his lips, squeezing his fingers back, his thrusts heavy as his balls roughly slammed against your ass, the sound of skin against skin and your wet pussy swallowing him completely filling the room. He breathed heavily against you, head dipping down to bite into your shoulder, hard enough to leave marks.
"My slut," he rasped. "Mine."
Your pussy clenched around him as you came, and for the second time he unloaded inside you, your spasming cunt milking whatever was left of him into you. He groaned, mouth crashing to yours as his cock twitched inside you, pumping out his thick and heavy load, right against your cervix, making sure you took all of it. Your fingers tangled together with his, and you moaned one final time against his tongue.
The two of you stayed like that for a moment, bodies intertwined, sweaty skin pressed against each other as you looked into each other's eyes, trying to catch your breath.
Jeon Jungkook had somehow managed to excel even your wildest fantasies, railing the absolute shit out of you, and you loved every second. You'd never be able to forget this, never live it down. It was something neither of you would be able to ignore, ever.
He finally pulled his body weight off of you, no longer crushing you and giving you more room to breathe. You missed his warmth already, but his hands stayed secured in your own, and his softening cock was still buried inside of you.
His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to see if you regretted it.
Finally, he spoke.
"You can yell at me all you want. Scream at me after this, bitch, I don't care," he said. "But I'm not letting you go. Never. You're stuck with me forever, got that?"
You swallowed, your heartbeat practically leaping out of your chest.
He bit his lip, eyes soft. "Is that ok now?"
You had been stuck with Jungkook your entire life. He was the one thing you had never been able to escape.
And for the first time you no longer wanted to.
You nodded, "I'd like that."
His deceitfully innocent bunny grin spread on his face, and he glanced over to the Calc 2 book that had been thrown aside. Reaching for it, he licked his lips.
“I guess it’s time to fulfill these requests, then.”
Tags: explicit content, hes a pervert 🤷🏻♀️, idk if jk is a sub or dom here.
Mdni 18+
I know one thing abt clingy jungkook is he loves laying between your thighs when watching tv together. Not only cuz he finds comfort there, but he also would be able to smell ur scent and feel how warm and soft your pussy feels under his neck.
He would pretend to adjust his head just so he takes a small whiff.
He’s unfortunately a pervert when it comes to you.
Jungkook was honestly worried you would be mad at him for being too perverted, but one day when you caught him sniffing your panties in your bedroom, eyes closed, a faint blush on his cheeks as he jerked off. it made you feel some type of way. You ended up riding him all night as you rub your panties over his face.
Jungkook was gone that day, he knew you were the one. He stopped hiding his desires and completely let go.
It’s still surprising to you how much of a clingy horny pup he is. especially when you’re chopping vegetables, you feel him snick to his knees, pressing his face between your thighs and breath you in.
You try to be unfazed by his actions, but it turns you on so much knowing you got this big, muscular man so down bad for you and you’re not even trying.
He’s so obsessed with your touch. pls touch him. It doesn’t matter if it’s an innocent touch , jungkook will get a boner from it.
He gets jealous of your clothes. He’ll peel your jeans down just enough to bite the very top curve of your ass, leaving a mark only he knows is there.
Also he would eat your pussy for hours. He doesn’t even care abt his release, just pls sit on his face and let him do all the work.
He also loves creampies, he loves watching his cum dripping out from your ruined pussy. He would pull u by your hips, arching your back just to push his cum back inside with his fingers. Feeling your gooey walls squeeze his fingers making him hard again.
And on other days, After he comes inside you, he refuses to pull out. He’ll stay locked in place for ages, soft but still there, dozing lightly. “I like feeling you keep me,” he slurs, half-asleep.
Cockwoming.
Jungkook wants to be inside your skin if it was physically possible, he wanna feel every inch of your body on him.
His favorite position is always missionary. Cuz that’s the closest he feels to your soul and body, seeing your eyes dizzy and unfocused, your mouth hung open desperately reaching out for his mouth is jungkook’s favorite thing in the entire world.
And you barely get to breath during missionary, cuz jungkook can’t stop kissing your soft lips. His teeth biting your lips, sucking on your tongue. He kisses you so deeply, sharing breath and spit, that you forget to pull away for air. You only remember when he finally breaks for a gasp, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless and shared.
Also he loves to explore anything that got to do with your pussy. One time he made you drink a whole bottle of pineapple juice just to see if the taste would actually change.
he’ll push you against the counter, hook your leg over his arm, and lick between your folds with a soft hum. “Just wanted to see if the juice changed your taste,” he’ll say after he made you cum twice, then kiss you so you can taste yourself on his tongue.
He loves giving you hickeys where no one can see—the inside of your thigh, under your breast, the small of your back. A map only he can read. He traces them with his tongue later, proud of his work.
You wake up in the middle of the night to him fingering you gently, his face buried in your hair, breathing evenly as if he’s asleep. He’s not trying to wake you or make you come. He’s just touching you because he can.
If you wear a skirt, his hand is always on the bare skin of your thigh under the table. He draws patterns with his fingertips, high up, near the edge of your underwear. A silent, public claim.
Jungkook’s worst nightmare is being away for a tour or a really busy schedule. His texts never stop even though hes very busy and barely can hold a conversation, but he will ask for a pic every time just so he could touch himself to your pretty cute face.
After a fight, his clinginess turns desperate. He’ll fuck you with a heartbreaking tenderness, kissing every inch of your skin, whispering “I’m sorry” against your lips, your collarbones, between your legs. He needs to be inside you to feel forgiven. ♡ྀི
A/N: i hope this was to ur expectations!! I tried making it less freaky but what can i say… iam freaky.
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
authors note: ‘but u have to update ur other fic blah blah blah’ umm shut the fuck up?. anyway this is my first time attempting smau fics so be nice to me thank u. ngl i was VERY high writing this but it made me giggle when i read it again. hope u hehe a lil with this. iloveu.
i know this is not my usual type of writing but idk i was feeling silly and i always wanted to try smau. this is for giggles and shit! — gift credits in the watermark??
A breakdown of the five specific places Dean Di Laurentis loves to claim you with his palms.
word count : 1.5k — explicit — SMUT minors DNI — spanking / slapping kink — impact play — established relationship — consent is sexy — enjoy and please tell me what you think !
There was one thing Dean Di Laurentis particularly loved in the bedroom—one vice he was completely, unapologetically obsessed with—and that was giving you the sharp, intoxicating sting of a slap.
He loved the friction of it. He loved the way the sudden, biting heat of his palm against your skin shattered whatever wall you had up, pulling you violently and beautifully into the present moment with him. Dean was a man who commanded space, whether he was dominating the ice or wearing that smug, untouchable grin around campus. But behind closed doors, that confidence turned into something primal, intensely vocal, and deeply tactile.
Before a single hand ever came down, there was always that quiet, heavy conversation—the checked boxes, the established safewords, and the dark, intense look in his eyes when he asked, "You ready for me?" and only when he heard your breathless, enthusiastic "yes" did he let that cocky hockey-star exterior melt away into something demanding. He didn't just want to touch you—he wanted to mark you with your full permission, to hear the breathy, undone sounds you only made for him, and to feel the physical evidence of his possession warming up against his hands.
He had five very distinct, highly choreographed ways of taking exactly what he wanted.
One — your ass
This was his go-to when he wanted to assert total control, usually happening late at night when the rest of the off-campus house was dead quiet. He’d have you on your hands and knees in the center of the mattress, completely exposed to him.
Dean never rushed this. He would stand over you for a moment, his eyes tracking the line of your spine, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips just to watch you shiver. Then, his large, heavy hand would anchor firmly on your waist, keeping you perfectly in place so you couldn't shrink away. When the first slap landed, it was a deep, heavy, echoing thud that seemed to vibrate through the entire room.
The shock of it would make you arch your back, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as your skin instantly blooming into a deep, burning crimson. Dean loved the rhythm of it. He would use the slaps to drive the pace of the sex—worshiping the way the heavy impact made your ass cheeks roll and jiggle violently with every hit. He’d bring his palm down hard just to watch your flesh shake against his thighs, the visual driving him absolutely crazy as you trembled beneath him. By the time he was done, his wide handprints would be burned into your skin, a visual map of exactly where he’d taken you.
Two — your tits
This was a purely visual, frantic kind of worship that usually happened when the tension between you two had been building all day. He would be sitting up against the headboard, and you would be straddling his lap, taking him in slowly while your hands rested on his broad shoulders for balance.
Even though you technically had control over the depth and the speed, Dean’s hands were never lazy. He would watch you intently, his gaze heavy and darkened as he tracked the flush rising from your throat down to your chest. Suddenly, his right hand would leave your waist, his palm flattening out as he brought it down in a swinging slap right across the plush fullness of your breast.
The sound was entirely different from the ones before—it was wet, heavy, and loud. The sudden, biting sting would make your hips stutter, your spine locking up as you cried out, your chest immediately blooming a vibrant, angry pink under his touch. Dean would smirk, a low, pleased rumble vibrating in his chest as his other hand came around to strike the opposite side. He would alternate his palms, striking the soft skin of your breasts in perfect time with the frantic rhythm of your hips, driving you into a breathless, desperate haze where the burning heat on your chest mixed with the friction between your thighs until you were completely unhinged. Only when he was satisfied with the deep blush did his harsh strokes melt into a heavy, thorough massage, his large hands kneading the flesh to soften the sting while his lips followed behind, soothing the fire with hot, bruising kisses.
Three — your pretty face
This was reserved for the most intense, emotionally raw moments in the bedroom—the times when he needed you completely bare, with nowhere left to hide. It usually happened while you were kneeling between his thighs giving him head, or right in the middle of sex when the pleasure became so overwhelming you tried to close your eyes and turn away.
Dean wouldn’t let you. His large hand would slide up your throat, his fingers framing your jaw and tilting your head up, forcing absolute, unbroken eye contact. He would look down at you, his expression dead serious, completely stripped of his usual cocky playfulness.
Then, his palm would snap against your cheek. It wasn't a heavy, brutal blow meant to cause real harm, but a sharp, delicious slap that sounded like a quick clap echoing in the quiet room. The sudden shock of it would make your ears ring a little, a breathy sob catching in your throat. Before you could even blink, Dean’s thumb would gently, almost clinically, swipe over the hot, flushed mark on your skin. "Look at me," he’d rasp, his voice thick and demanding. "Keep those pretty eyes right on mine." Another slap would follow on the opposite cheek, shattering any lingering thoughts, leaving you utterly helpless and entirely focused on the weight of his gaze.
Four — your pussy
This was an exercise in pure vulnerability and exhibitionism. Dean would drag you off the bed entirely, pulling your shaking body down onto the hardwood floor. He would sit with his back pressed firmly against the wooden frame of the bed, pulling you back between his thighs so your spine was flush against his broad chest. Your legs would be forced wide apart, spreading you completely open in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the opposite wall.
"Look," Dean would whisper against your ear, his hot, uneven breath making you shiver as his heavy arm wrapped securely around your waist, trapping you against him. "Watch what I'm about to do to you."
You would be forced to watch in the reflection as his free hand slid down between your thighs, his fingers damp as they parted your sensitive skin. He would draw his hand back, and instead of one heavy strike, his fingers began to rain down on you in a flurry of small slaps—very, very fast, small taps that peppered your swollen, wet pussy. The sound was a rapid, obscene, pattering rhythm that echoed off the glass. The sheer speed of the tiny taps sent a jolt of pure, blinding electricity straight up your spine. You would try to twist away from the ticklish, hyper-sensitive ache of it, but his grip around your middle would only tighten, holding you perfectly still as his fingers continued their relentless, rapid pacing, reducing you to sobbing his name into the empty room.
Five — his personal favorite (both at the same time)
This was the absolute finale—the position Dean turned to when he wanted to completely break you down and rebuild you. He would lean comfortably against the headboard and drape your body completely over his lap. You would be lying flat on your belly across his thick thighs, your head hanging uselessly off one side, your legs slightly parted over the other.
Dean loved the absolute helplessness of this position. You couldn't see him, you couldn't move away, and you were completely at the mercy of his hands.
He would start slowly, building a relentless, punishing rhythm that you had consented to, but that still made your mind go entirely blank. His heavy palm would come down on your ass first—a deep, thudding strike that left a wide, pale imprint that slowly turned a throbbing crimson. But before the heat could even begin to fade, he would slide his hand lower, his fingers catching your highly sensitive pussy. He would alternate between the two: a heavy, resonant thud on your ass cheek, followed instantly by those rapid, stinging slaps directly to your slit.
The contrast was maddening. The heavy, aching bruise of the spanking on your ass cheeks followed instantly by the blurring, rapid-fire electricity of his fingers stinging your front. Your hands would grip the bedsheets so tightly your knuckles turned white, your hips twitching helplessly against his thighs with every single variation. Dean would take his time, listening to the shift in your cries, building the heat higher and higher until the sting transformed into a heavy, uniform, throbbing ache that colored your entire lower half red. He wouldn't stop until you were weeping openly, completely undone by the overwhelming intensity, right before he finally pulled you up into his arms to hold you close against his chest in the quiet afterglow.
u take requests? cause seeing taekook earlier in jks live has me thinking about morning after a two man mission
oh you fucking HARLOT.
I’m sitting down and writing this in one session because this is a gorgeous request and I was daydreaming about the exact same thing during JK's live this morning, great minds think alike <𝟑 .ᐟ
i love you bad for making me write this
Body to Body — Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook
summary: after signing two very extensive and detailed NDAs, you wake up after the wildest night of your life. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader x jeon jungkook
wc: 5.3k, 24 min
themes: ugh this is SO horny I'm shaking in my seat, a bit of fluff, sweet gentle after(and technically before)care, lots of praise, a little bit of humiliation, big dick tete agenda, even bigger dick jk agenda, voyeurism!tae, BUSAN AND DAEGU SATOORI BOYS, headpusher tae, my dream fuckin eiffel tower, Jungkook films you (asldfjsdlf imagine being in his private folder), morning sex, squirting, showering together!!!! I pay attention to details to try to make this as head cannon as I could make it, enjoy my beautiful freaky readers ₊˚⊹♡
All of your body beside me ♪
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
The sun cut through the gap in the blackout curtains, the blade of golden light stirring you from your slumber. You rose from your sleep slowly, first with a twitch of your eyelids, then a furrow of your brow, until your eyes cracked open, letting the blurry shapes of the room come into focus.
And for a moment, you completely forgot where you were.
You lifted your head off your pillow slightly, the room still spinning a little from the liquor being served to you nonstop last night. You looked around in the still very dim room, with just a slice of sunlight cutting across the edge of the bed and floor. You squinted, taking in your surroundings in the darkness. You were in a hotel room, a large one. The little thump in the back of your head came almost immediately, and you blinked slowly.
Someone shuffled beside you in bed, and a large arm came up around you, trapping you in the pillowy white blanket underneath its weight. You glanced down, a familiar pattern of tattoos inked into the skin of the bicep currently pinning you to the mattress.
Oh right.
You turned your head, coming face to face with a very much still asleep Jungkook. You froze in place, all the memories from last night rushing back to you all at once.
The after-party, the black-suited security guard instructing you to stay put and asking you to wait a little longer, the two heavy stacks of documents you were suddenly handed, and, through shaky eyes, you scribbled and signed before being escorted to a large van with tinted windows.
You blinked a few times, as if to try to prove to yourself that this wasn't a dream. Jungkook's lips were parted slightly, his face soft and relaxed, his stage makeup from the night before still around his eyes and ever so slightly smudged. His hair fell over his face, bangs stuck oddly in different places, his lips full and pouty.
Even when sleeping, this man was devastatingly gorgeous.
You studied his face for a little while, in silent awe of being in his bed. You shuffled a little and rolled onto your side, turning your back to him as his little spoon. You slid yourself back towards him until you were met with his warm, bare chest. Jungkook subconsciously slid his arm down, landing his arm comfortably on the smallest part of your waist. Your heart was pounding at the touch; the only separation between his arm and your very naked body was the duvet that was draped lazily over your torso.
You settled into your new position, still half asleep and comfy, and saw a mess of black and blonde hair from over the little hill in the blanket. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, the giddiness returning in full swing.
The other wildly exciting part of your night.
Taehyung was facing away from you, lying on his stomach, his hair peeking out from above the blanket. His arms were tucked neatly under his pillow, the flex of his biceps so close to you sending a stir to your stomach again.
Maybe if you stayed completely still, they would keep sleeping, and you could stay here forever.
You let yourself drift back to sleep, but your heart was already awake and racing. There was no way you could fall asleep again now. You shuffled a little under the blanket again, curling yourself up into a little ball as you tried to get extra comfy. Then there was some movement on the mattress. Taehyung lifted his head off his pillow, staring off at the wall for a few seconds before turning his head to finally face you.
"Oh, you're awake." He spoke in a low whisper in the dark bedroom; his morning voice was rough and gravelly, but the same silkiness like honey poured through.
You nodded with a soft smile, and he smiled back, reaching his arm over the blanket to pet your chin. You felt yourself flush, the shyness hitting you at full force. You flustered at his touch, and he let out a soft chuckle.
"Does your head hurt?" he whispered, hand still resting gently on your face.
"Not really, I'm a little dizzy," you replied.
"Sit tight. Let me get you some water."
Taehyung sat up in bed, his bare back facing you as he sat on the edge of his side of the bed, stretching his neck side to side before standing up. Your eyes drifted to the tattoo on his lower back, something you never thought you'd be able to see so detailed and up close. You couldn't do anything but stare, still in such shock about how you ended up here.
He walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of water before cracking it open and returning to the bed.
"Here."
You nodded your head and thanked him, propping yourself up on your arm so you could take a sip. The icy, cool water was an immediate relief to your dry throat. Taehyung watched you as you took a few sips from the bottle, the water feeling like God's gift to your hungover body right now.
Jungkook stirred behind you, his arm still heavy on your waist. You heard a few quiet, sleepy hums behind you, and you turned your head back to face him, his eyes cracking open slowly.
"Mm," he hummed, eyes blinking slowly as he woke up in phases. His eyes landed on you, tucked safely under his arm and pressed against his warm, bare chest.
"Morning," he said with a lazy smile, before his eyes closed again. He pulled you in a little closer, the comfort of cuddling you lulling him back to sleep.
"Jungkook-ah," Taehyung climbed back into bed, reaching over you to nudge his friend on the shoulder. Jungkook furrowed his brows and lifted his head, eyes open again.
"It's almost nine. Get up."
Jungkook let out a grunt in protest before looking down at you, still cradled in his arms.
"Have fun last night?" he said with a small, sleepy smirk.
You crinkled your nose, turning your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassed smile. Jungkook laughed before planting a kiss on the back of your shoulder.
"I'll take that as a yes."
He sat up and rolled his neck a few times, his broad bare back perfectly chiselled, even in the dark room. You felt your mouth water, your head still resting on the pillow.
Jungkook shuffled down the hall, and a few moments later, the bathroom light flicked on, the door swinging half-closed.
Taehyung was back in bed with you, now lying on his back, still shirtless and only in his sleep shorts. He looked at you with quiet curiosity before opening his arm towards you, patting his chest with his other hand.
You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his chest, his warm, strong arm wrapping around you safely. You nestled yourself deeper into him; the smell of his sweat mixed with the leathery notes of his cologne was enough to drive you crazy.
"Sleep well?" Taehyung mumbled as he traced soft circles on your arm.
"Mhm," you hummed, your hand resting on his chest next to your cheek.
"Good," he replied, giving your arm a quick squeeze.
He tilted you up by the chin, your eyes locking with his, only inches away from each other. You felt everything inside you turn into a puddle at his touch.
"I had a lot of fun last night," he said with a lazy smile. "I hope it wasn't too much for you."
"No, I had fun—it was fun," you said with a smile, fighting the blush from rising to your cheeks.
Taehyung leaned in and brought his lips down on yours, his full, pouting lips electrifying you as he kissed you. You parted your lips involuntarily, and he let out a soft laugh as he deepened the kiss, delicately, sweetly, and not aggressively and dominating like it was last night.
"Mm," you hummed into his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss for a moment before he pushed himself deeper against you, his tongue swiping your lower lip for entry. You let your mouth fall open, granting him access to the inside of your mouth. Taehyung wasn't rushed; he licked your tongue softly first, before darting his tongue in a little deeper, sweeping the inside of your mouth like he was trying to map out the inside of your mouth before you had to leave.
"Tae," you moaned, the sensation of his wet tongue against yours so early in the morning sending a fire directly to your lower core.
"Gonna miss this pretty mouth when we fly out tonight," he murmured into your mouth.
Taehyung lifted you up so that you were practically lying on top of him now, and he pulled away from your lips for a moment, propping his pillow up behind him so he was sitting up a little more, watching you with those hypnotizing eyes.
"Why don't you leave us with one more memory before you have to go?" His tone was lower, dripping with his want for you, his eyes the same as they were last night: dark and commanding.
You bit your lower lip as you slid yourself down his bare torso, landing yourself right at his waist. Taehyung was already hard beneath the fabric of his pyjama shorts, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you intently.
With one hand, you slipped his waistband down, his waiting cock peeking out from the waistband, flushed and already a little glistened from precum.
You were the luckiest girl on earth.
You took him in your mouth, the familiar salty sweetness of his arousal coating your tongue. Taehyung's mouth fell open, his eyes trained on you as you swirled your tongue expertly over the head of his needy cock.
"Mmm, so gorgeous," he moaned as he watched you.
Your head was still spinning a little from the alcohol, but you blinked hard to maintain your focus. Your wet, pouty lips worked his tip as you licked at the soft tendon at the underside of his cock.
Taehyung bucked his hips a little at the sensation you were giving him, his one arm coming up to hold up the back of his head.
"Yeah, just like that."
You dipped your head lower, his cock sinking deeper into your mouth, nudging on the back of your throat. Taehyung let out a deep, breathy moan, his eyes fluttering closed as you slid your mouth up and down his length.
"Fuck," he grunted, before his other hand flew to the back of your head, pushing you further down onto his long, thick cock. "Obsessed with you."
You felt yourself gag a little at the force of his hand on the top of your head, guiding you further and further down his length. He was deep down your throat now, his thickness filling your mouth entirely, knocking your uvula with every bounce. You closed your eyes, focused on pleasing the superstar sprawled out in front of you. You closed your hand into a fist, fighting the tears that threatened to escape your eyes from the intensity of his fullness in your mouth.
Taehyung bobbed you up and down with his guided hand, his hips bucking upwards to let himself feel even more of you, the stretch of your mouth around him driving him crazy.
"So fucking good, hm? Fucking love this mouth," he hissed as he continued fucking your mouth, his satoori bleeding through every anunciation of his words. "Fuck."
"I still feel fucking drunk," Jungkook suddenly turned the corner, reappearing from the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from his mouth.
He stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, naked and on your knees in front of Taehyung, your head being pinned down by his hand as he fucked your mouth like you were his personal little pornstar.
"Huh, so this is what you were doing while I was washing my face," Jungkook scoffed, taking a step closer towards the foot of the bed.
You let out a muffled moan, and Taehyung released his hand from your head, letting you finally catch some air. You pulled off of him with a desperate wet pop, your eyes and lashes wet, your chin already dribbling with saliva. You were panting as you brought your hand up to Taehyung's cock, still determined to please him. You pumped your hand up and down his length firmly, milking him as you caught your breath.
"Hyung, you're so fucking greedy," Jungkook murmured, taking another step towards the bed so that he was only a couple of feet behind you at the foot of the bed.
Jungkook was still shirtless in his gym shorts, and he watched quietly as you continued to please his bandmate, your hand pumping Taehyung's cock with a steady pace, dipping your head back onto the first few inches of his length.
"Ugh, fuck, you're so pretty," Jungkook groaned, palming himself over his shorts now. "Even in the early morning, you're just as much of a giver as you were last night."
"Isn't she such a good girl?" Taehyung looked up at his dongsaeng with a cocky smirk. "Sucking me off for breakfast."
"Mhm," Jungkook replied, his voice low and hungry.
Jungkook pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, wiping his mouth on the abandoned towel on the bench at the foot of the bed.
"Can you handle some more, love?" Jungkook's words were sweet, but the way they came out of his mouth was mean, like he was teasing you.
You popped your mouth off of Taehyung and tossed your hair over your shoulder to look back at Jungkook. You didn't say anything, just gave him a look, that look that got you into this mess in the first place.
He let out half a cocky laugh before he slid his shorts down, undressing himself behind you.
You felt your core burning already, your pussy clenching around the painful nothingness. The cool air of the hotel room felt extra sensitive against your exposed cunt, your ass up in the air from pleasing Taehyung.
"C'mere," Jungkook said with a growl as he reached forward, gripping your hips and yanking you backwards towards him. You let out a giggly yelp at the way he manhandled you.
Jungkook slid his thumb against your pussy, the pad of his thumb parting your folds so easily. You shivered at the sensation, the glide of his finger sending little sparks throughout your whole body.
"Already dripping," he murmured to himself. "Tae, you got her so wet already."
Taehyung let out a laugh, giving Jungkook a cocky half-shrug as he took his own cock into his left hand, pumping himself lazily.
"She has good taste."
Jungkook dipped a finger into you first, the feeling of something, anything inside of you making you gasp. He hummed as he slid another finger into you, before he began to scissor his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.
"Hnng, JK," you hissed, your head dropping forward against the blanket.
"Shh shh," Jungkook said with a smirk. "Just getting you ready for me, baby."
"I think she can handle it already, Koo." Taehyung was watching you, face pressed into the blanket to muffle your moans as he jerked himself off to the view.
The sensation of Jungkook's fingers suddenly went away, before being replaced by the burning, splitting sensation of his cock pressing into you, slowly, inch by inch.
"Ah!" You wailed into the blanket, the soft pillow duvet swallowing any of your cries. "Too-too much."
"You can take it," Taehyung growled, still fucking his hand in front of your face. "You took it so well last night, didn't you, baby?"
You nodded and propped yourself back up properly before arching your back, giving yourself fully to Jungkook as he sank deeper into you, until he was completely sheathed inside of your pussy. The feeling of him filling you completely was shattering your sanity; Jungkook was hung, bigger than any of the boyfriends from your past, and he knew exactly how to use all nine inches of his pretty cock.
"That's it," Jungkook groaned, staying still for a moment as you quaked and clenched around him desperately, trying to get used to the feeling of him again. "Take it. Take all of me, pretty girl."
"F-fuck," you moaned, lifting your head off the bed finally. "God, you feel so good inside of me."
"Love my cock, huh? Wanna take it all for me like a good girl, ah?" Jugnkook's voice was gravelly and low, his Busan accent thick and evident in every sentence as he got lost in the feeling of you, still drunk and sleepy.
"Yes, JK," you whimpered.
He began to set a rhythm, rocking his hips against your ass at a pace that knocked the wind out of your lungs. You let out a cry at the intensity, his length splitting you in half as he fucked you from behind.
Taehyung groaned at the sight of you, falling apart already on Jungkook's cock. You looked up at Taehyung through needy eyes, your brows furrowed and lips pouting as your breath matched the pace of every slam of Jungkook's hips into you.
"Think you can take us both, hm?" Taehyung's accent was thick, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you like a jaguar. "Come here, take this cock too."
You swallowed between gasps before reaching forward, wrapping your hand around Taehyung's girthy size again. He cocked his head to the side as he watched you, his other hand coming up to fluff the back of his hair.
"Come on, princess, don't be shy," Jungkook growled from behind you, still fucking you expertly. "Show us what you can do."
You could barely think straight with how well Jungkook's cock was hitting your g-spot, knocking stars into your vision with every thrust. You shook your head a little before poking your tongue out of your mouth again, enveloping Taehyung in your mouth once more.
"Fuuuck," Taehyung moaned, dropping his head back against his pillow. "You're a gorgeous little cumslut, aren't you?"
You nodded a little as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock again, swallowing every inch of him that you could possibly take. Taehyung's length stretched your mouth out so crudely, and he sneered at you as he watched you struggle to take him all in your mouth.
"Too fucking big for you?" Taehyung groaned, his dialect itching your ears in just the right way. "Dirty girl, you can do it."
You felt like your body was on fire; every part of you felt full, spent, but your head was spinning with how much pleasure you were experiencing. Jungkook was fucking you so well from behind, every thrust of his hips pushing you deeper onto Taehyung's cock.
"Wanna see you fall apart like this on the both of us, honey," Jungkook groaned before dropping his hand down to your pussy, rubbing slow, controlled, firm circles on your clit.
You let out a muffled cry, the sounds dampened against Taehyung's length stuffed in your mouth. He grinned down at you, your mouth so full of him, and his other hand came back down to hold you steady.
You felt like you were going to die, but you already were in heaven.
Your core burned hotter and hotter, the cord inside of you beginning to stretch impossibly tight. Jungkook's tip was knocking against your sensitive spot so perfectly, and you thought you could pass out from the pleasure.
The rhythm of his hips suddenly faltered for a moment, and Jungkook leaned down, fishing his phone out of his shorts that were left abandoned on the floor.
The blanket around you was suddenly illuminated by a phone light, and your eyes widened as you realized Jungkook was filming you, spread open, bent over, and taking him like a pornstar. Humiliation immediately washed over your whole body, and you were sure that if you weren't red in the face before, you definitely were now.
"Jungkook—" you gasped, popping your mouth off of Taehyung for a moment.
"Don't worry, angel, nobody's ever going to see this except me. And Hyung."
Taehyung chuckled, his hand pushing your head back down along him. He gave you a wink, the small gesture sending a surge of adrenaline through your body, and you picked up the pace.
"Ugh fuck, look at her. Performing for the camera."
Jungkook held the camera at arm's length so that he was filming himself fucking you, selfie-style, as you sucked Taehyung off. He threw his head back into the pillow again, his lower lip pinched between his teeth as his abdomen was flexed, his pleasure taking over his whole demeanour.
"Gonna fucking cum in this pretty mouth," Taehyung hissed, brows furrowed as he sat up a little further, his V-line and abdomen on perfect display, glistening with sweat and flexed.
"Sin fucking city," Jungkook said to the camera with a cocky laugh. "Look at her."
Your face burned with embarrassment, but you persisted. Jungkook's fingers were still working your clit, and you were desperately trying not to explode, not to scream out in pleasure.
Taehyung let out a long, pornographic moan as he reached his climax, his warm, desperate spurts hitting you in the back of your throat. Your mouth was suddenly flooded with the salty-sweet taste of him, thick and creamy on your tongue.
"Fuuck-God," Taehyung hissed, his hand pushing you down along his length impossibly deep as he rode out his high. "Horny little slut, taking my load in her pretty mouth."
You dragged your tongue along the underside of his length, all the way up to the top, cleaning him up with your mouth before you drank all of him down. You swallowed with a gasp, your mouth falling open to show Taehyung that you had taken all of him so well, just like he wanted.
Taehyung's hand released from your head to tilt you up to look at him by the chin. You held eye contact with him through teary eyes, still rocking forward on your knees as Jungkook fucked you. Taehyung's eyes were still dark, but his gestures were a little sweeter now, his thumb dragging along your lower lip, wiping up the residual cum dripping from your mouth.
"Pretty girl," he hummed. "Getting me off so well while Koo fucks you from the back."
You let out a whine at Taehyung's gentle hands as Jungkook wrecked you, the two opposite sensations making your head spin.
"Please, please," you begged, your eyes needy and wet as you held Taehyung's gaze. "Feels so-so good, Tae. Gonna—"
"Fuck, she feels so tight around me," Jungkook hissed, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought his own pleasure, his camera still on you.
You were teetering on the edge now, your climax dangerously close. You squeezed your eyes shut, the pleasure manifesting itself in the faces you were making, desperate, vulnerable, and so erotic.
Taehyung's voice broke through your trance.
"Look at me."
Your eyes flew open, Taehyung's hand returning to your chin as he held you up, forcing you to look at him. He was smiling at you, not sweet, but cocky.
"Just wanna remember what you look like as you cum, hm?" Taehyung said with a grin.
That was it.
Your climax ripped through your body, the intensity so strong that your vision went blurry, and you dropped your head to the blanket, as you wailed into the covers. Taehyung lifted your head back up with ease, your eyes rolled back into your head, eyes fluttering, knuckles white as you gripped the bedsheets. You felt a warm rush of liquid escape you, dripping down your thighs and trickling onto the bed with an audible drip.
"Fuck, so sexy," Jungkook hissed, maintaining his mean pace. "Squirting all over me like a dirty whore."
"Tae, too much, he's too much," you sobbed, the pleasure mixing with pain as Jungkook knocked his cock into you, his pace picking up as he neared his climax.
"Shh, you can take it," Taehyung murmured, stroking your cheek. "Take it, doll."
Jungkook let out a low groan through gritted teeth, his phone abandoned on the bed, both his hands gripping you by the hips as he pounded into you continuously.
"Fuck, you squeeze around me so well, gonna fucking cum in this slutty cunt, huh?"
You felt your body go limp, but you stayed on your knees so obediently, letting Jungkook climb to his peak as he fucked you feverishly.
A large hand came down on your ass, giving you a stinging slap. You wailed out, your fingers coming up to intertwine with Taehyung's.
"Fucking perfect girl," Jungkook growled. "Letting me fuck her while Hyung watches. Gonna fucking wreck you, baby."
"Let Jungkook cum in your pretty pussy, baby," Taehyung cooed.
"Fuck-yes, Jung-kook-please," you stuttered, far too drunk off his cock to even think straight. "Please, finish in my tight little pussy, it's all yours, my pussy is yours."
Jungkook let out a low guttural groan as he pressed himself deep into you, up to the hilt. His head dropped forward as he reached his climax.
"Fucking shit," he moaned as you felt his ropes shoot inside of you, jagged and pulsing. Jungkook painted your walls with his pleasure, his breath releasing in short pants and hisses as he fucked himself through his high.
You were entirely spent now, your body was limp and boneless, and you collapsed onto the bed by Taehyung's legs. Jungkook collapsed beside you at the foot of the bed, his length still buried inside of you.
The three of you lay on the bed, sprawled in every direction in silence, the only sound in the room was the panting and heavy breathing from both you and Jungkook. Taehyung's hand came up to pet your hair gently, stroking your head with a soft rub of his thumb.
He reached over for the water bottle he had brought you earlier on the nightstand and uncapped it again, bringing it to your lips. Your eyes fluttered open at the contact with the plastic bottle, and you opened your mouth slightly, allowing Taehyung to bottle feed you sips of water through heavy breaths.
"Good girl," he cooed. "Such a good girl."
Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist again, holding you in close as his breathing returned to normal. He pressed sweet kisses along your shoulder, your back, your spine.
"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"
Jungkook gently pulled himself out of you, the mix of your fluids dripping out onto the bedsheets. You covered your face in embarrassment, but Jungkook's hand came up to pull your wrist off.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
The shower turned on with a roar, the water pressure strong and thumping against the glass door already. Steam slowly began to fill the chamber, and Jungkook reached into the shower to test the temperature.
Taehyung was standing behind you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms possessively as he waited for the shower to warm up.
"It's good," Jungkook mumbled as he stepped in, and then turned to face you, his hand reaching out to help you in.
You stepped over the little step of the shower floor, joining Jungkook in the steamy chamber. The scent of eucalyptus and citrus filled your senses, the steam soothing your whole body almost instantly.
Taehyung stepped in behind you before he closed the door, the three of you standing impossibly close together. You were pinched between the two tall, muscular men, both of them facing you as their hands lazily explored your wet body.
"Sweet girl," Taehyung murmured into your ear, planting a kiss on the back of your neck. "Thanks for spending the night."
You nodded, and Jungkook tilted you up to face him with a finger on your chin. He grinned at you, lip ring twinkling under the potlight, before leaning in to press a sweet, soft kiss on your lips.
The two of them reached for the body wash that was mounted on the wall, each pumping twice, before lathering the soap in their hands. Jungkook then opened his hands towards you, his hands immediately gently gripping your breasts in his hand, giving them a soft squeeze as he began to spread the bubbly body wash across your body, massaging you as he cleaned you.
Taehyung followed suit, his hands firmly on your shoulders, massaging the tension out with his soapy hands before spreading the lather across your back, scrubbing gently and thoroughly down the length of your spine. You felt yourself melt at their touch, so intimate and loving.
"Mm, feels good," you sighed, your head dropping back onto Taehyung's shoulder.
"Yeah, she's sleepy," Jungkook said with a chuckle. "I'd be too."
You stood between them as they washed themselves, the scent of the bodywash making your head spin.
When all three of you were perfectly clean again, Taehyung reached around you and turned off the water before reaching out of the shower door to grab a towel. He stepped out first, wrapping the towel around his waist, before grabbing a second and third one, motioning for you to step out of the shower towards him. You did.
Jungkook stepped out of the shower behind you, and Taehyung handed him one of the towels. He wrapped it around his waist tightly before they both turned their focus back to you.
"Arms up," Taehyung said softly, and you lifted your arms over your head.
He wrapped the towel around your torso, tucking it in at the edge so it hung like a dress. Jungkook pressed the towel against your body, helping you dry yourself. Once you were comfortably wrapped up, Jungkook stepped towards the mirror, shaking his wet tendrils of hair around like a puppy dog. He collected another towel from the shelf to dry his hair.
You returned to the bed, sitting on the edge as Taehyung got dressed in front of you. He glanced at the clock on the wall.
10:04am.
"Jungkookie-ah, we gotta go soon."
"Yah," Jungkook called from inside the bathroom.
Taehyung turned back to look at you.
"We have late check out. You can nap here until we come back, if you want."
You were so sleepy, too blissed out to move. You nodded, giving him a weak smile as you let yourself lie back in bed.
Taehyung looked at you with a laugh before coming around the bed again, petting your head gently.
"Sleep well. We'll try to get ready quietly."
You nodded, already feeling half-asleep as you melted back into the pillows and blanket, the cool Egyptian cotton bundling you up so addictively.
You didn't realize you had drifted off to sleep until your eyes snapped open to the sound of a knock at the door.
"That's probably Hobi-hyung," Taehyung murmured, now fully dressed, with a pair of sunglasses sitting on his head, and his backpack over his shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm ready to go," Jungkook hummed, his hair fluffy and blow-dried, bare-faced and zipped up in a black hoodie.
"It was nice meeting you," Jungkook said, giving you a nod, his hands in his pockets. "Maybe when we're back in Vegas?" He gave you a wink.
You buried your face a little deeper into the blanket, the shyness returning.
"Yeah," you murmured, your mouth breaking into a wide smile.
Jungkook laughed, watching you fumble in your own shyness for a moment, before Taehyung nudged him by the shoulder.
"Come on, let's go," Taehyung urged. "They're all waiting for us."
Taehyung turned back to you with a little smirk.
"See you in a few hours."
And then the door opened and closed with a dull squeak and then a soft click, sealing you into this bubble of them, the twelve-hour whirlwind that you had found yourself in. You let your eyes flutter shut, the lingering smell of sweat and eucalyptus lulling you into what was going to be, possibly, the best sleep of your fucking life.
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
i just blacked out and wrote this im missing out on precious sleep and i'm not proofreading it
Tags: May-December pairing, afab!reader, BTS music boot camp in L.A. au, reader doesn’t recognize JK/BTS, strangers to lovers, club setting, banter, smut, dom!JK, praise kink, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, nipple play, light angst (mentions of past relationship trauma), etc. etc. etc.
Summary: In the heat of summer, you were free. Ink having finally dried on the divorce papers, your friends whisked you away for a celebratory trip to L.A. Had you planned to meet anyone while you were out? No. But a $1,000 bet against your friends and a handsome face at the bar suddenly gets you singing a different tune.
Part 3 Word Count: 8.3K
A/N: It's complete! Ahhhhh, I can't believe it's finished. I worked so hard on this, and I truly hope you enjoy. Please tell me if you did <3
Cross posted on Ao3 here.
NAVIGATION: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (you're here)
The finale begins below...👇
You [01:55]: Going back to the hotel fyi
Sophie [01:57]: Alone????
You [01:57]: …not alone 😇
Lila [01:57]: Oh SHIT !!
You [01:57]: Is this the dumbest thing i’ve ever done? Be honest
Lila [01:57]: Definitely not
Sophie [01:57]: Girl go get you some
Sophie [01:58]: Time to live
Lila [01:58]: Have FUN. You deserve it!
Lila [01:58]: 🍆💦🔥🥵
You [01:59]: Ew
Sophie [01:59]: Lila’s emoji privileges revoked
You [01:59]: Seconded
Lila [02:00]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆
Lila [02:00]: Like to see y’all try
Lila [02:00]: Fr tho, climb him like a tree!!!!
Sophie [02:01]: And call us if you need us
You [02:01]: Best girls ❤️
*****
JK [01:57]: Heading out. Don’t wait up.
JM [01:57]: With someone??
JM [01:57]: You were with that woman most of the night
JK [01:58]: … :)
JM [01:58]: Fuck
Hobi [01:58]: No way
Hobi [01:59]: Maybe a little dangerous?
JK [01:59]: She doesn’t know who I am
JM [02:00]: Rude
JM [02:00]: But prob for the best
Hobi [02:00]: Still…
Hobi [02:00]: Sure about this?
JK [02:01]: Yea
JK [02:01]: One time thing
JK [02:01]: Don’t worry
JM [02:03]: You better wrap it punk!!!
*****
The hotel you’d booked hadn’t felt that close when you’d ridden to the club earlier, but now it felt like you were there in a matter of seconds. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t focus on anything else except exploring more of the ways Jeongguk could move his mouth in sync with yours.
The poor driver. If they minded, they said nothing. Or maybe they did and you weren’t listening. How could you give attention to any of your other senses, when touch was the one taking total control?
What felt like a flash and then you were in the elevator, his hands clutching your waist steady as you desperately fisted his hoodie in your greedy hands.
“What room,” he gasped, leading the two of you closer to the buttons so he could push the right one.
Oh, right. You weren’t even in the room yet. Maybe you should slow down. But then again… who the fuck would decide that when the man before them looked like this?
“Nine-oh-four,” you managed to gasp between nips across his jaw. The salt of his skin was addicting. You could barely focus on anything else.
“Card?” Jeongguk was suddenly breathing into your ear.
“Huh?”
“Key card, baby,” he murmured, tugging your clutch’s strap down your shoulder. “For the door.”
“Oh, yeah.” You pulled back from him far enough to rummage inside. He made himself busy, worrying a spot near your clavicle. Enough so that distantly you thought you were sure it would bruise come morning. A second more of rooting around and then the card was there, plastered against one side of the purse.
A quiet beep of the door’s security system, bypassed at last, and you were in the room. The foyer sconce gave dim but invitingly warm light. Door locked once more, and then it was a blur of clothes falling toward the floor.
“Fuckkk,” you heard Jeongguk whine, taking in your backside as he unzipped your dress with a practiced swiftness.
You twisted back around, the remaining alcohol in your system making you brave. “Please,” you laughed. “I should be the one saying that, not you,” you argued, lifting the elastic waistband of his hoodie off of his slender hips and up, up, up, until his face was disappearing and he was helping you shuck it off.
“I’m serious,” he huffed as he gripped the dip of your waist and dragged you closer. “Didn’t think I’d win the lottery tonight.”
“Me either,” you sighed into his mouth, your tongue meeting his once more. “Lucky us.”
“Lucky us,” Jeongguk agreed, lifting you all at once by the back of your thighs and walking you both to the bed. A gentle dip and you were horizontal, ass at the edge. His face between your legs.
“What’re you doing?”
“Can I?”
“Jesus Christ,” you breathed. “Are you for real right now?”
He said nothing, just tongued his lip piercing and nodded. His eyes were round and innocent, but the situation was anything but.
“You already got me off. You don’t have to.”
“Who said it’s just for you?”
“Fuck.” Your head smacked against the mattress. “Then yes. Yes, times a thousand.”
“Thank fuck,” he murmured. In the span of an exhale, your thong was down to your ankles and tossed across the room.
A delicate kiss against your thigh, a pause, and then his tongue was licking deep. Inside you, up your center and finally circling around your clit. Your back was arching off the bed of its own accord, your whine carrying obscenely throughout the suite.
His puffs of impish laughter against you only spurred you on. “Yeah, you like that?” he hummed in between kitten licks.
“Love that,” you moaned, hands seeking purchase in his hair like a survivor desperate for a life vest. Your hips were bucking against his tongue like it was their only job. “What the fuck.”
“Wiggling so much,” he teased, giving your clit a slow suck as he sheathed two fingers inside you. His other hand clamped around your hip bone to keep you still. “Is it really that good, baby?”
“It really is,” you panted, nodding at a rate that in any other situation would have had you mortified. “So, so good, Jeongguk, shit.”
“Good. I want it to be good for you.” You could feel his lips smiling against you. A grin that only widened at the absolutely obscene whine racing out of your open mouth as he curled his fingers inside, hitting a spot that you’d never been sure you actually had.
But, oh, you did. You really did. It was a crime you hadn’t known sooner than now, but holy fuck were you grateful. Which you apparently expressed when his fingers scissored inside you at the same time he was flattening his tongue against your clit.
“Thanking me already?” you could barely attach meaning to his words in the rush of an impending climax. It was growing, growing, growing. Curling your toes against his shoulder blades. Electrifying every nerve, pulsing in time to the blood pounding in your ears. “You needed this so bad, huh.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you wailed pathetically. His dirty mouth had you wetter than you had ever been in your life. You could tell by the smacking sounds emanating from him as he ate his fill. It was downright nasty. But you couldn’t find an ounce of shame.
“I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep going,” you mewled. You barely recognized this fucked out voice of yours.
“So cum, baby.” His voice, though muffled against you, was huskier now, pitched lower than before. Thank God all of this was affecting him, too. “Cum on my mouth. Show me again how good you can cum for me.”
His permission was all it took. The damn inside you collapsed in a sudden clench and release of tension, your hips rutting into his face as he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, his fingers pumping in and out of you with delicious force.
There was no time wasted on a come down. The second he felt you relax, he was up off his knees and ridding himself of his remaining clothes. You opened bleary eyes just in time to see his cock bobbing free from his shorts, the length of him making your mouth water.
“Let me taste you,” you managed, moving to get on your knees before him. Your legs were weak from the orgasm, but you’d be damned if you didn’t get your mouth on him just once.
“You don’t have to,” he smiled, suddenly boyish as he was fisting himself in one hand. How he could flash from domineering to bashful so quickly was baffling, but somehow it worked. It made you want him even more. You said as much, tacking on a breathy “please” as you sidled closer.
“You want to suck me off that bad?” He scrunched his nose, teasing.
“I want you halfway down my throat.” The words shocked a distant part of you, but it was quickly forgotten when you saw the effect they had on him. How his eyes, already large enough to hold galaxies, widened. The flex of his forearm as he gripped himself tighter. The sudden slack in his jaw, tongue prodding at the lip ring.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pumping himself harder. You watched with unconcealed lust. “How are you so perfect.”
His words goaded you on now. “Let me taste you, baby,” you pleaded. “Show you how perfect I can be.”
“Yeah,” he rasped, releasing himself. “Show me. Fuck me with that pretty mouth of yours.”
“Happily,” you sighed, the final syllable greeting his head as your mouth sheathed him in one go. He was thick. Thick in a way that had your pussy clenching from the anticipation of what it would be like to have him filling you there. Your throat stretched in protest as you dived to take him all in, and the tears it brought to your eyes were a welcome warmth on your cheeks.
“Fuck. That’s it, so good,” Jeongguk managed through gritted teeth as you found a pace that was comfortable without needing your hands. “Taking me so well. Look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.”
His words. His taste. Your thighs were slick—you could tell when you squeezed them to ease the ache that was already building once again. You liked him being in control, but you found yourself wanting to shut him up, if only to keep yourself in check.
You released him with an obscene pop before moving to suck on his balls, taking them in your mouth one by one. Stuffing them both in your mouth, tonguing them each in turn. You felt like a slut, loved feeling like a slut. Were a hair’s breadth from deranged as you opened your eyes and took in his pained expression. His guttural moan, which ended more like a whine, was all the encouragement you needed to run your tongue up the seam of him in the limited space of your crowded mouth.
“Fuckkkk,” he sighed. “You keep going like that and you’re gonna make me cum.”
You hummed happily before freeing him at least. “Is that what you want?” you murmured, painting a wet kiss against his inner thigh.
“I’d rather fuck you raw,” he breathed, clutching you by the chin and drawing you up to plant a sloppy kiss across your lips.
You couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips. “I want that too,” you sighed.
“Yeah? You sure?” His eyes were boring into yours, meaning heavy behind them.
The last rational neuron in your brain had the wherewithal to pause. You drew back enough to manage some reasonable distance between the two of you. “I’m clean, if that’s what you’re really asking.”
He tongued his lip piercing, considering. “Yeah?”
You huffed a laugh. “Yeah. It’s a long story, one that would really kill the mood,” you admitted, looking away, eyes landing on the curtained window. Thank God you’d thought to close the blinds before leaving earlier tonight. “But I just got tested. Because of my ex. So, I’m for sure clean.”
“I’m sorry.” His hand moved to cup your cheek, but you still didn’t turn to meet his gaze. “I didn’t mean–”
“S’okay,” you interrupted, looking back at him, a soft smile around the corners of your mouth as you touched a finger against the plush of his lower lip. “Even so, Lila left me a condom if you’d prefer to wrap it. If you’re clean too, then I don’t care either way.”
He took you in, eyes darting across your face. Considering. “I’m clean, too. Got tested last month, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he managed, shivering as your hand gripped the base of him, beginning a slow, torturous rhythm.
“Did I mention I’m on the pill, too,” you murmured, drawing closer to his face as your hand kept him in its grip.
“You hadn’t actually,” he swallowed, eyes fully trained on your mouth.
“My bad,” you smirked. “Should’ve said that earlier. But, yeah. Clean and consequence free.”
“Lucky fucking me,” Jeongguk managed, closing what little distance existed between you and latching your mouths once more. In the span of a breath, you found yourself flat on your back, Jeongguk leaning over you. He was slotted between your legs like the space had been meant for him. “You sure,” he panted, meeting your eyes seriously.
“So sure,” you nodded. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
You reached for him desperately, guiding his length to your open center. The feeling of his head dragging against you was ecstasy in its purest form. “Good. Because I need you inside me right fucking now.”
“Say less,” he managed, sheathing himself inside you in one fell swoop.
You saw white. Frequency overload. Heaven and hell all combined, smashing together until it was nothing but static noise, intense pressure, absolute euphoria.
“Easy, easy,” you heard him coo in your ear, the words hurtling you back down to earth, back into your skin. You could feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, the burn a welcome sensation as he filled you past the point of coherence. “You’re doing so good. So, so good.”
You whined, unable to form any sounds that could be deemed coherent. Above the feeling of absolute fullness, you registered the desperate way your fingers were clutching his hair. The rigidity of your legs as your ankles locked just above his bum, like you were trying to meld your bodies together. Damn anyone or anything that tried to take him from you.
Not that he had any plans of going anywhere. “I know. I know, baby. Stretch for me,” he urged. And you did, holy fuck, you did. Your body was acquiescing to him before your brain could even register the words. “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”
“Wanna be so good for you,” you finally managed to sigh. You wiggled your hips, causing him to sink a bit deeper. He was pushing up on your cervix now, you were sure of it. And yet, if it were possible, you knew you would have had him burying himself even further.
He was still as a statue apart from his ragged breathing, the errant kisses planted across your temple. He was giving you time to adjust. But it was driving you mad, all the fullness without any momentum. You need him to move, needed him to fuck himself into you until there was no question the space was only meant for him.
“Move, please,” you pleaded. “I need it.”
“Yeah? You need it?” He parroted. Bucked just enough to give you a taste. “How bad?” But even that little bit had you melting into a breathy mess.
A hand gripped your chin. “Look at me. Tell me. How bad?” Your eyes opened, and you took in the expression on his face.
Hungry. Greedy. Powerful. Those doe eyes you’d admired before were nowhere to be seen now, replaced by a gaze so demanding it made you shiver.
“So bad. So, so bad,” you whined, clutching at his shoulders desperately. You had never submitted this easily; it defied logic why you were so pliant now. “I’m aching.”
“Aching, huh.”
“I’m gonna die if you don’t move.”
At your words, he pulled back. Almost out of you completely. And paused. The absence of him was visceral. So much so that your face was collapsing into a grimace—
—Just as he thrust back in. And then you were full, blissfully full, once again. Your cry of ecstasy only goaded him into a pace that had you clinging to what little shred of awareness you had left. It was otherworldly. Magical. Life-changing. Your brain short circuiting to a rhythm dictated only by the man fucking into you with a ferocity that could rival gods of old.
“Fuck,” you heard him groan against the dip of your neck. “You’re still so tight. And wet. What the fuck.”
“J-just for you,” you stuttered, clutching him closer against you. That seemed to energize him further, remapping his movements so that he was grinding deeper, slower, against you. Into you.
“Just for me, huh?” he panted, hitting a spot inside you that you’d only read about in those silly BookTok novels.
“Yessss,” you whined, but your voice was keening higher and higher. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“So sweet,” he praised, lifting his head to plant languid kisses against your neck. “You just met me and you're slutting it out this good?”
Was this real life? Your disconnected brain managed to wonder. How was he this good at dirty talk? You could have never imagined words like this making you this feral. “Can’t help it,” you managed to respond. “Wanted you all night.”
“You did so good getting what you wanted,” he praised. “Perfect. So perfect. Doing so good for me.” You clamped him between your legs even tighter at that, locking your ankles together more firmly so that he couldn’t wriggle loose even if he tried.
The movement had him chuckling into the crook of your neck. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he murmured, leaning up to bite the shell of your ear. “Don’t worry.” You reveled in the way he rocked more forcefully into you, how you could feel him bottoming out right against your cervix. How his pelvis was pushing against your oversensitive clit in a way that had you edging toward release once again.
And he fucking knew it.
How he could be so perceptive during all of this was a mystery to you, but you thanked the stars for his ability to notice your impending release once again. “Again?” he teased, rocking into you with purpose. “Already?”
You whined your assent, nodding rather pathetically. “Can’t help it,” you managed, hiding your face against his collarbone and worrying a spot there for him to remember you by. “You feel so good.”
“Aww, poor thing. Let me help you then,” Jeongguk smiled. Deep enough that the dimple in his cheek popped. If you weren’t in the middle of the most obscene sex of your life, you might have pinched his cheeks from the cuteness aggression he triggered. But the feeling was quickly lost as he flipped you over easily in his grip.
You were face down, ass up, his hands greedily gripping you at the dip of your waist. “Hold still,” he cautioned before driving back into you in one go once more. The fullness of him had you mewling. Egged on by the way his hand was now reaching around to clutch your pussy, his middle finger circling your clit in a patient, methodical sort of way that had your toes clenching.
“Come for me again,” he whispered against your spine, kissing his way up your tattoo. “I know you can do it. Come on my cock. Let me feel it. Wanna feel you grip me even tighter.”
Again, his words were like a siren’s call. You were at the brink once more, circling the drain, peering down below. Any and every metaphor was racing through your mind until finally, finally, you were breaking. Crashing. Spiraling. He was the push and the rocks beneath to break your fall. So good it was nearly painful.
“That’s it,” Jeongguk praised. “So good, so good for me. Pretty girl.” But your pulsing must have pushed him to the edge too, if his next words were anything to go by. “Fuck, I’m close,” he managed through gritted teeth. The sound of his voice, so affected, had you leaking even more. His teeth were grazing across your shoulder blade now. Like he was fighting the urge to clamp your skin between his teeth. “Where can I?”
“Wherever you want,” you whined, your voice still high and breathy despite the comedown. “I’m safe, I swear.”
“Fuuuuck.” He panted, rutting into you with an enthusiasm that only came with an impending orgasm.
“Cum inside, baby,” you rasped, doing your best to goad him. You didn’t know how you found it in yourself to speak the words aloud, given the intensity of your release. “You know you want to.”
“I really do,” he whined, the boyishness of him making a brief comeback as he fucked into you with abandon, teetering on the very edge. “So bad. So, so bad.”
“Do it,” you crooned, craning your neck to meet his eyes behind you. “Be a good boy.”
How had the power dynamic switched so fast? You had no idea, but you were riding the high. Judging by the slack-jawed look on his face, Jeongguk was too. “Be good for me,” you praised. His doe eyes widened, entranced. He nodded. Bit his lip.
“Fill me up, I wanna be leaking.”
The words were like a key unlocking the safe. Once freed past your lips, given to his ears alone, Jeongguk faltered in his frantic pace. A single, desperate whine. A final thrust. And then he was spilling himself inside you. You could feel it in the way he was crowding against you with renewed energy, as if his hindbrain couldn’t bear the thought of a single ounce of cum escaping from inside you. The animal part of your brain answered in kind. You backed up against him, unwilling to cede even a single millimeter of space to the open air.
“Fuck,” he panted, curled over you, lips resting against the top notch of your spine. “Don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard.”
“Ditto,” you hummed. You were too high in the clouds to say something more meaningful. Your mind was filled with stardust. Orbiting somewhere far above the bed like a damn comet. You wobbled with the weight of his torso leaning atop you, knees threatening to buckle. Seconds later, they made good on it.
Outside the heat of the moment, it was probably comical, the way the two of you collapsed in a heap atop the bed. Though you hated the emptiness that came from him pulling out, the way Jeongguk gathered you in his arms before lolling onto his back was a special surprise.
You knew it was the oxytocin rush, the hormonal cocktail pulsing through your bloodstream that said this was more than what it was. But lying there with him, on him, listening to his heartbeat? There was still a sliver of your brain, probably the part still orbiting the solar system, that swore this was something truly special.
*****
“What?” you hummed, at Jeongguk’s sudden puff of laughter. His chest rose and fell, jostling you from the half-sleep you’d been enjoying on his chest. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since you last fucked, but the orgasm comedown and his trailing fingers had left you in a sleepy, syrupy blissed out state. Like a cat curled in the sunshine, you were content to soak it all in.
“Nothing,” he murmured, fingers carding through your hair. “Just thinking.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s really cliche.”
“Tell me anyway,” you insisted.
“Just… thinking how wild it is that hours ago I was dreading leaving the house.” He drew lazy circles across your shoulder as the words poured from him slowly, weighed down in the post-sex haze. Still dulcet, but with just a hint of gravel. “And now I’m kind of dreading going back later.”
You hummed understandingly.
“Just weird,” he continued. “Like I’m still that same guy, but I’m also different now.”
It was your turn to laugh now. “You’re really philosophical after you cum, huh?”
His shoulders shook with laughter. “Not usually. But I’ve been thinking pretty heavy today, though. Reminding myself a lot of my friend.”
“Jimmy?”
“No,” Jeongguk scoffed. “And his name’s not Jimmy. I don’t–”
“I knew there was some joke I was missing,” you blurted, popping your head up fast. Too fast. The hotel walls were slow to orient to your new position. “Oh fuck. Spins.”
“Careful,” he said, cupping your cheek. “You good?”
“Yeah, just a little drunk still,” you huffed. “Or maybe this is just me after I really cum.”
“After you really cum?” he teased. “As opposed to not really cumming?”
You prayed the dim light of the room could hide your blush. “I mean, well…It’s, uh, been a while. Generally speaking. But like that?” You hesitated.
“Like that…?”
“Um. Maybe the first time ever.”
“Fuck,” Jeongguk grinned. His knuckles skimmed the curve of your ribs, grazed the swell of your breast. Your breath snagged in your throat at the touch. “You’re really trying to gas me up, huh.”
“It’s not on purpose, I swear,” you tried to assure, albeit distractedly. Your eyes lowered to watch his trailing fingers, the way they traced the whirls of thorny vines and lush petals of your tattoo. “That feels nice.”
“Does it?”
You hummed your assent. It turned into a breathy sort of whimper as he began to play with your nipple.
“That feel nice, too?” He was being facetious. The mischievous grin plastered on his face as he toyed with you was as endearing as it was exasperating. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to call him out on it. It felt better to lean in and give him the praise he deserved.
“Really nice,” you murmured, turning to give him better access. You caught the way his eyes locked on the florals inked along your other side. His free hand lifted to trace that piece, too.
“Every angle I get you in, I feel like I find my new favorite tattoo.” His voice was soft, but it was maybe the only soft thing left about him–if the rising sheets that were slung low around his hips were anything to go by. The awareness of his growing erection, so soon after your last go, did funny things to your tummy. Had you clenching on nothing, slickness beginning to coat your thighs. Thighs that hadn’t had time to dry from the previous round.
“I have a lot of tattoos,” you whispered. “Lots of angles you can see me in.”
“That so?”
“Mhm.”
“Hm. Good thing I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” Both of his hands were fully busy playing with your tits. It turned you on more than you cared to admit, watching him watch himself touch you exactly how he wanted.
“Really good thing.” Emboldened, you swung a leg across his waist so that you were straddling him. You pushed the sheets down, bore down as he angled his cock easily between your folds. “Might just keep you forever,” you breathed as you sank onto him. There was little resistance—in a blink, he was all the way in. The nudge of his head against your cervix once more was a more than welcome feeling.
“Might just let you,” Jeongguk groaned, pupils blown wide as you began to ride him with the fire of a woman possessed.
*****
The alarm clock on the bedside table read 7:07 in vibrant red. It was the second thing you registered as your eyes fluttered open, the first being the sensation of Jeongguk’s body weight shifting the mattress. You peered over your shoulder, watching his naked form rise carefully from the sheets.
You’d only known him for a few hours, but in that time you thought you’d become very well acquainted with his body. You’d lost count on the number of orgasms, his and yours both. This man had the stamina of a god, and your core still felt the delicious consequences of his presence. Jeongguk had wrecked you, for better or worse.
Right now, it certainly felt like it was for the better.
But the morning had arrived. Cinderella’s carriage had turned back into a pumpkin. And you were waking to the reality that your bed was becoming host to one less body.
“Heading out?” you murmured. You heaved a sleepy sigh as you flipped to face his side.
He gave you a soft smile, pulling on his boxers. “Afraid so. Gotta get back for work.”
“‘Nothing gold can stay’,” you mused.
“What’s that?”
“I think it’s a line from a poem.” You hugged the covers closer to you. “Not sure why it popped into my head.” Paused. Yawned. “It was my lame attempt to find something to say.”
He laughed as he reached for his jeans. “You don’t have to make conversation. I didn’t mean to wake you up. Get some more sleep, yeah?”
“Right. Yeah, sorry.” Your eyes slipped shut of their own accord. “It’s probably easier to leave if the other half of the one night stand stays asleep.”
“Didn’t mean it like that,” he chuckled. “Believe me, I would stay if I could.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to do that,” you smiled. “I’m glad I’m awake to say goodbye, though. Would’ve felt weird not to, even if it is easier, y’know?”
Your eyes opened again as the mattress dipped near you. Jeongguk’s knee, you realized. He was leaning over you, one hand moving to brace beside your head.
“I had a really, really great time,” he said, his expression serious as he met your gaze. His free hand smoothed a lock of hair back from your pillow-creased cheek.
“Me too,” you grinned, catching his hand. You planted a kiss against his palm. “I have to say, you gave me some really fantastic memories. Thank you.”
He said nothing at that. Kept studying you in with those enormous starry eyes of his.
“What?” You scrunched your nose. “Too much? It’s my first time, go easy on me.” You’d said something quite similar to that just hours ago. Now his eyes creased fondly, making you fairly certain that he realized this, too.
He shook his head. “Not too much.” His name on your lips sounded so sweet it almost hurt. “I’m glad I met you.”
“Likewise,” you laughed. “Okay, go. Before I try to keep you forever.”
His shoulders wiggled upwards, buoyant from his cute little puffs of laughter. “And before I let you.”
You shook your head ruefully. Still convinced he was such a problem. But the very best kind. “Bye Jeongguk. Get home safe.”
Jeongguk nodded. Made to rise from the bed but paused. A moment of hesitation and then he leaned down to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.
It was the type of kiss that, in another world, you could imagine he would give you every morning before leaving for work. The type that said he would see you later. The type that came with promises too weighty for this reality, far too serious for a one night thing. But you hummed happily nonetheless, returning it easily before you were parting again far too soon and he was finally walking out into the suite’s living area.
It was a kiss sweet enough to keep thinking on long after his footsteps were no longer audible, and visions of that other world carried you back into an easy sleep.
******
You’re an idiot, the voice in his head asserted. Actually, certifiably stupid, Jeon Jeongguk. He picked up the pen anyway.
Honestly, despite the fact he was doing the very thing that was stupid, he couldn’t argue against his voice of reason (that, to no one’s surprise, sounded a lot like Namjoon’s). It was probably stupid. So, so stupid. But every step that brought him closer to the door, closer to the reality of leaving you for good, had felt wrong on a thousand different levels. He needed some sort of contingency plan if he was going to be able to leave this room with any semblance of peace. Just a possibility of another future. That would do. Even something that meager was better than the finality of shutting your room’s door and not having a chance in hell of finding you again.
This wasn’t his first one night fling. Not even close. But, as he realized mid-thrust on round four with you a little while ago, it was his absolute worst. Worst in the sense that it now felt like a gut punch, the idea that he wouldn’t have at least one more night with you. That was certainly new to him. As he’d grown older, he found he actually preferred situations like one night stands, because it meant he didn’t risk getting too attached. And, as anyone in the band and their staff would freely admit, Jeon Jeongguk was notoriously bad at being unattached.
He had sobbed on the floor of their dingy dorm at the possibility of Hobi leaving the group before their career had really even taken off. Sure, he had been a kid then. But over a decade later, things still hadn’t changed that much. Why, just last week, he’d cried during a particularly heated group discussion about the comeback album, when Namjoon had voiced doubts of whether it was even worth it, resuming the group’s climb to fame after all these years. Rejection of that possibility had shown on everyone’s faces, even Namjoon’s after he spoke the words, but it had been Jeongguk bursting into tears that shocked them all back to their senses. Recentered them. And sure enough, moments later they were reaffirming their commitment to the group, to each other. He had never meant to weaponize it, but little Jungkookie crying seemed to forever be the group’s kryptonite.
Perhaps it should have bothered him a little more, that he felt too much, cried a bit too easily, wore his heart on his tattoo sleeve. But, in truth, it really didn’t. He’d learned to appreciate that part of himself, learned to focus it almost entirely into his performances, and protect it from situations that could cause more harm than good.
Which was why he enjoyed semi-frequent trysts with others (those others having been approved by the company, of course), but never the same person twice. No matter how great they seemed, he couldn’t afford to get distracted. Get tangled up in the feelings of someone else. The minute he did, it could all be over. He knew his heart. It could lock on to something, or someone, and never release. There couldn’t be room for anyone else, especially now. Not when the band was about to make its comeback. Not when they needed him singleminded, hypertrained on the goal.
And yet.
And yet, fate had seen fit to place someone like you directly in his path. Someone who, in a matter of hours, had breathed life into his lungs in a similar way that his bandmates, his music, his performances, did for him. Surely that had to mean something, right? Sure, he was still reeling from the fucked-out bliss you’d catapulted him into, but this couldn’t be just his dick talking. Right? Surely you had felt it, too?
He needed more time. Craved it, honestly. In more respects than just time with you. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the Jung Kook of BTS mantle once more. Sure, he wanted it more than anything. But he was also terrified of it at the same time. It was such a heavy thing. Was he still strong enough to carry it? Was he so strong that he could carry it even further? The possibility was as intimidating as it was thrilling.
Maybe, if he just had more time, he could come up with a better answer. A more solid answer. Come out of this post-discharge summer with more confidence than he was currently feeling. Were you a part of that solution? Had the universe sent you to him?
Only one way to find out, he supposed.
His decision solidified when his eyes snagged on the pen and pad of paper lying on the entryway table. It was innocuous enough, but also teased a sense of meaningfulness. The pen was scrawling a hasty note before he gave himself a chance to second guess it. He stared down at his work, satisfied.
An impulsive thought darted through his mind, and what the hell, he thought. Might as well follow it. He added an extra note at the bottom of the paper. Admired his work with a satisfied smile. Then, with a nod, he was finally slipping out your hotel door.
******
The alarm clock read 12:15—rather judgmentally you thought—the next time you opened your eyes, roused by thumping on your suite door.
“Hellooooo? Anyone alive in there?” A muffled voice carried through the room. Lila’s, most definitely.
“Coming,” you croaked, forcing your body into an upright position on the edge of the bed. But the pounding continued. Guess she hadn’t heard you.
“Give us a sign of life, or we’ll start to think you’re dead in there!”
Nope. Definitely hadn’t heard you. Bleary-eyed, you began making your way to the door. Your ears pricked at the sound of Sophie’s voice.
“Lila!” she chastised.
“What? Hey–don’t smack!”
“Don’t joke about things like that.” It was the tone of voice that heralded an impending lecture. You, Lila and Ari knew it far too well. “It’s not like her not to answer. I’m going to try calling again–”
“No need,” you assured with a yawn as you swung the door back to reveal yourself in all your hungover glory.
“She’s alive!” Lila cheered.
“Just barely.”
“Oh, thank God,” Sophie sighed, a hand to her chest. She and Lila shuffled past you into the suite’s foyer. “I was getting really worried. You never miss a call. Well, I guess that’s not true. But you always call me back asap.”
“I don’t when I barely slept and am horrendously hungover,” you grumbled, taking to the couch in a dramatic face plant.
“Oo la la, somebody got some action last night,” Lila purred. You flapped a hand at her.
“Let’s not make a big deal of i–Hey! Get off!” You rasped as Lila plopped her ass unceremoniously onto your back.
She giggled as you squirmed to buck her off. “I definitely want to make a big deal of it. Make some room, or this’ll be my seat for the whole story!”
“How can I when you’re parked on top of me?”
“Hm, fair.” She moved to sit on the floor, criss-cross style. “Soph? Care to join? Our girl’s about to give us all the steamy details.”
“I said no such thing–”
“Right, she actually said slutty details, sorry.”
“I did not!”
But Sophie wasn’t indulging either of you. Her eyes were focused instead on the hallway side table. “Did you see this already?”
“See what?” you and Lila said at the same time.
“This note. And the watch?” Sophie held it in her hands, examining the face.
“Shut up.” Lila bounded toward the table with a swiftness you found enviable. Your body was in no shape to go anywhere quickly. “Shut UP!” She was practically vibrating on the spot. “Get your ass over here and look at this!”
“This is really nice,” Sophie mused, still inspecting the watch. Her ability to tune you both out when she wanted was a skill that could only come from motherhood. “Hublot? That’s, like, a major luxury brand.”
“I’m barely functioning,” you whined. “Can’t you bring it here instead?”
Lila sighed. “The things I do for you, I swear.”
“You’re the best,” you cooed, worming your way into a sitting position. “Now what’s all the fuss.”
“This is the fuss.” She handed you the notepad. “You must’ve rocked his world, queen.”
You stared at the clean script, hardly comprehending the words before you.
Turns out I suck at one night stands. Call me sometime? XX
And, beneath that, his number. Followed by a postscript.
P.S. Think I might’ve left my watch? Be a shame to lose it forever. :)
“I–” you began, but your voice caught in your throat. Mouth still agape, mind short-circuiting.
Sure, you’d drifted off to sleep this morning with dreamy what if scenarios clouding your head. But, you hadn’t imagined them having even a fraction of a chance outside the confines of your imagination. The knowledge that Jeongguk had left your bed, left your suite, not with any sense of finality but with a hope that you’d contact him. Had even given you a reason to, leaving his watch like that. As if you might need another reason other than simply wanting to see him again.
But everything boiled down to the truth presented before you in a neat scrawl. He liked you so much that he wanted to see you again.
It was silly, how that simple thought could have your stomach doing somersaults, your lips lifting into a dumbstruck little grin. Only hours ago he was literally inside you, and now you were quietly losing it over a simple message on a hotel-branded notepad. But it was the implication of it that meant so much more. You couldn’t stop your mind from conjuring the image of him writing it as you were still curled in the sheets, drifting back to sleep with visions of a reality in which he’d come back to you later that day. But, in a way, he kind of was.
“Holy shit, your face.” You knew Lila was talking to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to meet her gaze. “You’re down baaaad. Soph, look at our girl cheesing.”
“Okay but look at the watch, too. He’s gotta be loaded, right?” Sophie insisted, moving to join the two of you on the couch. She paused as her phone began blaring the chorus to “Golden” from KPop Demon Hunters. “Shit, Ari is calling. Here, hold this, would you?”
Sophie dropped the watch into your lap. Your gaze moved slowly from the note to the accessory. It had the weight of something expensive. The intricate face gleamed back at you, detail heavy and sophisticated. The kind of watch Parker would have probably drooled over seeing, now casually resting atop your thigh.
“Hi, sweetie,” Sophie’s voice faded into the bathroom. “We’re good, Lila and I were just checking in on your other crazy auntie.”
“Talk to me,” Lila nudged your ribs. “Otherwise I’m gonna think you’ve gone catatonic.”
“Sorry,” you murmured reflexively. “Just kinda stunned. I didn’t think… when he left this morning, I kinda thought…”
“It was just a one night stand?”
“I mean, yeah,” you laughed. “Like, obviously I was super into him. But he seemed like the type who did this often–”
“Ew, the fuck?”
“No, no, not like that,” you amended. “Just that, he was super charming and, well, almost everyone I meet is going to have a higher body count than me. I just, I don’t know. I just assumed he was gonna walk out the door this morning and that would be it.”
“Well, it still can be,” Lila tried. “If that’s what you want?”
You laughed again. A desperate, awestruck kind of thing. “I don’t know. I didn’t think I could want anything else. I’m just a little stunned.”
“Breathe, babe.” She slung an arm around your shoulders, squeezed your arm reassuringly. “I know you, and your mind is probably running a mile a minute. But don’t make it overly complicated. It’s actually pretty simple.”
You gave Lila a dubious stare. Of the three of you, she had a tendency to oversimplify things. Sometimes it came in handy, other times not so much. You were hoping this was a case of the former. “You really think so?”
“I know so! It boils down to two really simple questions. First, did you like him?”
You felt the blush tint your cheeks faster than your brain could form the reply. “Yeah. Definitely.”
“Then second: did you like him enough to want to see him again?”
You thought back to the last twelve hours. Failed to hide the stupid smile tugging your mouth back up. “See previous response.”
“Looks like you know what to do next then,” Lila proclaimed.
You knocked your forehead against hers with a fondness that only came from years of friendship. “Thanks for being you.”
“I accept tips in cash or Venmo.”
“Punk,” you huffed. Lila’s allergy to sappiness had been a running joke since college.
“Bitch! Stop getting mushy on me and text him!”
“Okay, Jesus, I’m going to,” you laughed, pushing off of her and punching in his number on a new message chat.
You [12:25]: Found something I think belongs to you… missing a watch by chance? :)
“Cute,” Lila approved as you read it aloud. “Very cute. Now hit send!”
“You’re so pushy, oh my God.” But you did as she said. In a blink, the message marked itself as delivered.
“It’s the professor in me, can’t help it,” Lila laughed.
“Okay okay,” Sophie’s voice gained in volume as she made her way back out to the living space. “Hang on, I’ll let her tell you about it.” She pressed the speakerphone button. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”
“Aunties!” Ari’s chipper voice projected.
“Babygirl!” you and Lila replied in near unison.
“Mom said you met a guy?”
“Me?” Lila teased. “Still single as a pringle, sweets.”
“You know I wasn’t talking about you.” You didn’t need to see Ari’s face to know her trademark deadpan expression was on full display.
“Ice cold.” Lila smiled approvingly at the phone. “We’ve raised you so well.”
“Auntie,” Ari chastised. You knew it was you she was referring to. “Spill.”
You did, albeit the PG-16 version. Of course, Ari had had the sex talk—you and Lila had helped Sophie in delivering it—but that didn’t mean she needed to know any of the seedy details. The rooftop, bathroom, and hotel scenes would be kept far from the light of this child’s day. In fact, you omitted the taking-him-back-to-the-hotel sequence entirely from the story, painting the evening instead as a very chaste occasion—much to the snickering of your best friends.
“Wow,” Ari replied rather dreamily when you finished the abbreviated version of the night. “What was his name? Because he was definitely probably someone. I looked up the place Mom said you were going to, and there’s a lot of chatter about celebrities going there—like even international ones. There’s been BTS sightings this summer apparently!"
“Who?” the three of you chirped in near unison.
“Oh my God,” Ari sighed. “Seriously? Y’all are hopeless. B. T. S. You know, the biggest band in the world? Dynamite, Butter, Boy With Luv?”
“Oh, right,” Sophie nodded. “Right. You used to be obsessed with them.”
Ari tsked. “I mean, yeah, in middle school.”
“Which one was your favorite? I can’t remember now,” Lila said. “What did she call him? Her bias, I think?”
“Okay, number one: yes, it’s called a bias, and mine was Jimin. Number two: My music interests have evolved, though.”
“Okay, number one,” Lila mimicked, “that wasn’t that long ago. And number two: liking Fleetwood Mac now doesn’t make you unique, girlfriend. Hate to break it to ya, but we were all there at one point in time.”
You giggled as Ari blew a raspberry into the phone. “Moving on,” she loftily declared. “Auntie, what was his name?”
You opened your mouth to answer but paused as your phone vibrated in your lap. Peering down at the screen, you recognized the number immediately. You had only just texted it a few minutes ago.
UNKNOWN [12:31]: was hoping I’d hear from you :)
“His ears must’ve been burning,” you murmured, a foolish little grin pushing your cheeks up. It was a silly Southern phrase you remembered your grandmother saying so often when you were growing up. That if someone’s ears were burning, it meant they were being discussed. You wondered if Jeongguk’s were feeling warm right now, or if it was just the universe having some fun, that he would reply as you recounted meeting him.
“What? Whose ears are burning?” Sophie interjected.
“Hellooooo?” Ari’s voice trilled over the speakerphone.
“Did he text back?” Lila said in a stage whisper.
“Sorry, sorry!” You laughed, a little more breathlessly than would be normal. You forced your phone back to sleep. “My mind’s kinda all over the place this morning. What did you ask again, sweets?”
“His name!” Ari implored almost as soon as the words left your mouth.
“Right,” you nodded. “Jeongguk.”
There was a long pause. Radio silence from the other end of the phone.
“Babygirl, you still there?” Sophie called.
“Sorry,” Ari’s voice sounded strained. “Can you repeat that?”
“I said, his name’s Jeongguk,” you repeated.
The three of you jumped at the ear-splitting scream that emanated from the speakerphone.
“Ari?” Sophie shouted.
A break, then an audible inhale of air came from the other line.
“Hello? Earth to Ari?” Sophie tried again.
“Auntie.”
“Yeah?”
“You mean, Jung Kook of BT fucking S?”
“Excuse me, language!” her mother scolded.
“Uhh,” you began. It truly had been several years since Ari had been obsessed with the kpop boy band. Their names and faces had all blurred together into one unidentifiable mass of teen girl fanaticism.
“Google him right now and tell me if that’s who you mean,” Ari demanded.
So you did. Unlocking your phone, navigating away from the message you had just received, you opened the search engine and began typing. “How do you spe–” you tried, but she answered before the question was fully out.
“J-U-N-G-space-K-O-O-K.”
Search suggestions populated as soon as you’d finished the first half of the name. You hit enter. And your stomach hit the floor of your pelvis as the image results were rendered on the screen. Jeongguk, the man you’d just had the night of a lifetime with, was Jung Kook. Of BTS.
“Holy fuck,” you breathed out.
“Language!” Ari chided in her best impression of Sophie.
Your phone buzzed before you could speak again. The banner dropping at the top of the screen showed a new message from him.
UNKNOWN [12:33]: when can I see you again?
“Holy fucking shit,” you spluttered.
“You have got to stop cursing in front of my daughter,” Sophie cautioned.
“Baby, I think we got way bigger problems at the moment,” Lila laughed.
She was right. Way, way bigger problems.
synopsis: Yoongi, the quiet and awkward finance guy of your company, has a crush on you.
warnings: mdni, 18+, nerd! Yoongi, lowkey loser! Yoongi, dirty talk, riding, teasing, praise, unprotected, oral (m rec), kitty! Tang, office romance, Yoongi lowkey perv, cowgirl position, a little dumbification, multiple orgasms, a little rough, creampie, Yoongi big, Yoongi cocky behind closed doors, both are down bad, mentions of m-st-rb-t--n, mention of semi-public smuttiness, etc.
shout out to @catiekayy for being my soundboard and reader as I wrote this
wc: 4.7 k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
If someone were to ask Yoongi, he would say he's exactly where he wants to be, and that's under you.
His head falls back into the cushion of the couch, and his pupils dilate, focusing solely on you as you keep him pinned to the sofa with a hand to his chest.
You're absolutely gorgeous with glossy lips, half-hooded eyes, and a flush in your cheeks. Sweet little moans keep slipping from your mouth each time you lift your hips before slamming them back down, taking Yoongi's cock to the hilt over and over again.
You didn't plan for the night to go like this - bouncing on Yoongi's cock too far gone on how good it felt when his fat tip hit the back of your drooling cunt, but Yoongi did. Yoongi had been in love with you since the moment he saw you across the office. You were all sweet smiles and polite bows of introduction to your new co-workers, cheering a little, "happy to be on the team!" You were too cute.
You always worked in little heels with a pencil skirt, making Yoongi watch as you passed his cubicle, heading to lunch with one of your friends in the same department - Jimin was it? Your eyes sparkled as you yapped to the younger man, something about a project you were excited to be a part of. You were so new, so eager, and Yoongi's cock twitched, hardening before you even rounded the corner.
It was right there, in that office, that he formed his little crush on you. He looked forward to seeing you in the office from afar, watching you bend over to pick up a pile of papers that fell from your desk when you accidentally bumped into them. Or the way you seemed to become friends with everyone in less than three minutes.
You were so pretty, so nice, it was almost too much to bear. He'd have to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and then excuse himself to the bathroom to lock himself in a stall, fumbling with his zipper before he could finally free his aching cock.
His eyes would close again just as he gave his cock the first stroke, squeezing his hand around his shaft, jerking his cock to the image of you. He would daydream about bending you over his desk, or sneaking you into the supply closet so he could have a taste of you, wondering if your pussy was just as sweet as you were. But he never acted on it; he was in finance, you were in sales, the only time your two departments came together was either in the quarterly meetings or an office party.
Plus, he didn't stand a chance. You were gorgeous, beautiful, and charming, while he wore black-rimmed glasses and had photos of his black cat framed at his desk. He knew society had a hierarchy, and he knew his place in it. So, he kept his head down, his eyes focused on the computer until the day you hummed behind him, unsure of yourself, leaning on his cubicle wall as your eyes flickered from him to the photo of Tang, his cat. "Can you help me?"
Yoongi blinked, and blinked again, taking a moment to process that you were talking to him before he jolted up, stumbling to stand from his rolling chair, and nearly knocking over the photo of Tang in the process. "Y-yeah! I mean, yes, sure, yes."
It took Yoongi less than two minutes to realize you had mistaken him for IT support. You seemed to be having some issues with your laptop, your teeth nibbling into your bottom lip as you waved your hands at the monitor vaguely. "I'm not really good with this thing." You confessed with a soft blush to your cheeks.
Luckily for you, Yoongi was adept enough to be in IT if he wanted. He nodded his head softly, and with a quiet, "May I?" He leaned over you, his chest warming up your back as he reached for the keyboard. He never imagined being this close to you while you were sitting in your chair, but now with him so close, he was wrapped up in your pretty smile and sweet perfume, and he knew he was down bad for you.
It took a few taps here and a few clicks there before Yoongi was able to get your monitor screen where you needed it. And he was caught off guard by your happy squeal in delight, your arms wrapping around him in a celebratory hug as you thanked him over and over again.
It made Yoongi flush, awkwardly clearing his throat and waving his hand in dismissal as he felt your soft body move back, already turning around to click on a few tabs to verify it truly was fixed. Yoongi figured his need was done, and he'd slip back to his desk when you quickly turned around and grasped his wrist to stop him. His world flipped when you flashed him a dazzling grin, your eyes sparkling as you asked, "Hey, do you want to grab lunch sometime?"
From then on, you made a point of saying hello to Yoongi. It was always accompanied by a soft touch on his shoulder or arm, squeezing his bicep as you called his name. And with the more interactions he had with you, the more his crush developed, and the more he couldn't get you off his mind.
At one point, it was early morning, the skies still dark, as he stepped into the elevator to head to the office. No one was around, the city was still half-asleep, and he expected to be one of the few earlier ones in the office when you slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed. You flashed him a beaming smile, standing close to him in the small space, and Yoongi was still sleepy enough that his mind immediately went to the gutter.
You were standing in your heels, your tight skirt, and your perfume that made his mouth water - and for a moment, he wondered what you would do if he pinned you to the elevator wall. If you'd be wet when he brushes his hand up your inner thigh, bunching the skirt up higher so he could see the pretty panties you wore today. If you'd say his name with a breathy moan or whine when he placed a knee between your thighs to keep your legs open for him.
When the elevator dings to announce the arrival of landing on the twentieth floor, you're stepping out none the wiser to Yoongi's perverted thoughts, and he's covering his lap with his briefcase as he walks the walk of shame to his desk.
Something had to give, and it did when three weeks later, Yoongi found himself working late one night, finishing up some reports he'd present the following Monday. It was late, really late, late enough to need to call a cab to get home late, and he was tired.
He packed up his stuff, turned off his light for his cubicle, and started to head to the elevators. He had made a habit of looking over at the sales department to get a glimpse of your desk, even if you weren't there, before heading home. But tonight, you were there.
The yellow glow of the light for your desk even made you more beautiful in Yoongi's eyes, which is saying something because they were cheap lights. You were running a hand through your hair, mumbling to yourself as you went from looking back and forth between your two monitors, and Yoongi didn't even think about it. His feet moved on their own accord, bee-lining straight to you before he could mentally talk himself out of it. And you didn't even know he was there until he spoke up softly, "You're here late."
You jumped a little in your seat, whirling around to meet Yoongi's gaze, and both Yoongi and you sported soft pink cheeks towards one another. "I- yeah." You let out a tired laugh before you nodded your head towards him, "but I could say the same for you. Are you heading out?" You looked up at him expectantly, and Yoongi knew he should leave, grab some takeout, and head home, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He wanted to spend time with you, anyway he could.
"No, I uh, I'm waiting for an email to come in." His lie is barely believable. I mean, he had his coat over his arm and his briefcase in his hand, but you don't say that. Instead, you nod, an amused smile on your lips, as Yoongi stands there awkwardly.
"Well, instead of sitting alone at your desk, you could just sit with me while I finish some work on my computer." You offer, nodding to the rolling chair next to you, it's from the cubicle next to yours, and he takes it before he says something stupid, like I love you or something.
And that's how the rest of the night goes, you working, him sitting fiddling on his phone waiting for an imaginary email as you two fill up the space with small talk and getting to know each other better. When you wrap things up, you turn to him with a cute little stretch and ask if he wants to grab some food, and Yoongi could never deny you.
Over late-night ramen, he finds out you are staying late the entire next week of work, and by the time he convinces you to share a cab with him, claiming he doesn't live far from you (you're across town from him), he plans to find an excuse to keep you company that entire week you need to stay late.
The first excuse he comes up with is that he forgot a report that is due soon. He stays at his desk, clicking on things randomly, and peeking over his cubicle to see if you're still there. And when he thinks it's a good time to come over, he does so with a drink from the vending machine as a peace offering.
By the third night, when Yoongi finishes up work, he just walks right up to your desk and takes a seat next to you - forgoing making up excuses. He's armed with your favorite drink from the vending machines and a soft smile that you return as he sits on the empty rolling chair next to you. Neither of you commented on the new closeness you two have, your knees bumping into his every once and while as you typed away on your keyboard. Yoongi does his best to hide his smile behind his phone, refusing to acknowledge that he bumps his knees into yours in response, making his heart flutter in his chest.
And like the past three times you two stayed late at the office, you two share a cab ride home. Yoongi has the taxi driver stop at your place first and refuses to take your half of the money for the shared ride, waving it off with a shake of his head even when you try to insist. He only gives you a flash of a grin, claiming, "See you tomorrow."
So when Friday comes around, it seems like Yoongi isn't the only one finding themselves looking over at the other from across the office. You had become close to Yoongi in the time you two spent together, and it showed in the way you found yourself gravitating towards him with any flimsy excuse you could come up with. During a break, you saw Yoongi at the copier machine, and you couldn't help yourself. You walked up to him, your shoulder brushing his bicep as you hummed a little, "having a good day, Mr Min?" Your smile teasing as you batted your eyelashes up at him.
At lunch, you wave at Jimin, asking for a rain check. You were going to eat alone today, or that's what you told the man before making your way to the spot you had seen Yoongi liked to eat at. It was outside, more secluded, and a lot quieter than the cafe in the lobby. It was exactly where you found him, too, and you couldn't stop the smile from forming on your face. "Fancy seeing you here," you teased as you sat next to him on the bench. He was balancing his lunch on his lap as he quickly looked over at you.
His glasses were on the tip of his nose, his cheeks a soft pink, and the urge to kiss him caught you by surprise. You had liked Yoongi the moment he saved your computer from whatever you did to it months ago, and you were happy that this friendship had evolved from then on. You found comfort being near him, and you weren't blind; he was handsome with his warm eyes and gummy smile, which you seemed to pull from him easily. You just never really realized how much you liked him until now.
And maybe that's why, on your last night of staying late at the office for this project, you're a little jittery. Without fail, Yoongi is sitting beside you, reading something on his phone, and you can't concentrate. You had been in your head all day, mulling over Yoongi and your newly discovered feelings. You hadn't meant to form a crush on him, but how could you not?
It's why you decide to jump, take a leap, and tell the cab driver when you and Yoongi get in, to head to Yoongi's place. You turned to your co-worker expectantly, your cheeks flushed at being possibly too forward, but smiling nevertheless as you nudged Yoongi to tell the cab driver his address.
You didn't really plan how you wanted this night to go. It was the weekend, and you figured maybe Yoongi and you could hang out in a more intimate setting, but nothing prepares you when seconds after his apartment door closes behind him, he's pulling you into a kiss.
Yoongi had always given shy and awkward vibes around you, something that internally made you want to push his buttons just to see his blush sneak up to his ears, but this Yoongi wasn't like that now. He didn't kiss you like he had never done it before; in fact, he kissed you as if it were your last. His warm hands are pulling you in close, one hand sliding up your back and up to the back of your neck as the other holds onto your hip, like you might disappear otherwise.
It made your head spin from the contrast of him, your moan eagerly swallowed by him as his lips slotted with yours, and your back met his front door as he caged you in. He pressed his hips against yours, keeping you pinned, and his tongue caressed your bottom lip, coaxing you to open up for him. When you do, he groan soft and low, one of his hands slipping down your thigh and hooking your knee over his hip to press closer to you.
And that's when you feel something soft brush your calf, followed by a chirpy, "me-ow!"
Both of you are still; your mind is still reeling as Yoongi takes a second to pull his head back. You immediately miss his lips on yours, and you notice how plump his lips look as he looks down at the ground to see the black void brushing against both of your legs as it lets out another meow, demanding acknowledgement.
Yoongi's fingers squeeze the underside of your thigh that he still has hooked on his hip, and he takes a moment to take you in. Your lips are darker from the kissing, and your eyes are a little hazy, which makes him grin, and all he wants is to keep going. And he will, but another meow from Tang has him mumbling, "one second," before he's taking a step back, giving you space to breathe. "Make yourself at home," he smiles, and you finally process that you're inside his apartment.
Yoongi heads to the kitchen after stealing another quick kiss from you, and Tang circles you like a mini shark, chirping another greeting that makes you squat so you can pet his soft coat as he headbutts your hand with soft purrs. You grinned and scratched Tang's head until he heard Yoongi open a cabinet door. It must be Tang's designated cabinet for his food because the black cat flies to the kitchen, and you head deeper into the apartment with a curious gaze.
The apartment is cozy. A loft with one wall filled with floor-to-ceiling windows that looks over the city. It's breathtaking, and his apartment is high enough to still feel private until you are on his balcony, but you decide to stay in the living room, softly touching the books on his bookshelf as Yoongi leaves Tang to eat alone. "Anything catch your eye?" He asks, and you spin around to see him flash you another smile as you join him on the couch.
"Maybe," your answer is coy, but it's because your heart is fluttering and your eyes keep looking down at his lips, thinking back to your kiss by the front door. You're sitting closer to him, watching him in a new light that makes your stomach flutter. The tension is humming, soft under your skin, and when Yoongi's eyes flicker down to your lips, you move without hesitation when he asks you to come here.
Your thighs straddle his hips, and your weight settles over his lap as he slides his hands up your thighs. He's gorgeous, his hair tousled, his glasses magnifying his dark eyes as he tilts his head back to look at you. He doesn't even speak before he's pulling you in for another kiss, this one slower than the first. One of his hands stays on your hip, squeezing and stroking as his other hand cups the side of your jaw, quickly reducing you back to a soft, whimpering mess.
You don't know when you start rolling your hips during the kiss, but you moan when you feel him twitch underneath you. He feels big, and the thought alone has you pulling back with stars in your eyes, while his smile turns into a knowing smirk. "You okay, baby?"
Baby, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, liking the little pet name, and your hips roll forward to feel him again.
Oh.
Yeah.
He's big.
"Can I?" Your words slip out before you can even process them, and Yoongi's leaning back on the couch with flushed cheeks as your hands map their way down his chest.
"Can you what?" His hips press upwards, and the gasp leaves your mouth in awe, jumbling your thoughts further as your arousal seeps onto your panties. "What do you want, baby? Use your words," his laugh is a little teasing as his fingers caress your thighs, "or you could use your mouth."
Your mouth waters, and your eyes glaze over just a bit, thinking about it. And it isn't much longer before you're sliding off his lap and onto your knees between his legs, reaching for his belt.
Yoongi's heart leaps, watching your eyes glimmer with a hunger he seems to always have for you, and he's helping you unbuckle his belt and push his slacks down with his boxers until his aching cock is freed.
His cock is big, slapping up to reach just under his belly button, and it's pretty too. His tip is a darker shade of red, flushed with need, and drooling with precum that makes you lick your lips, hungry. Just the look of him makes your jaw ache, and you're already reaching for him - guiding him to your mouth as he lets out a breathless curse.
Your fingers wrap around his length, feeling the veins that throb down his shaft, and the moment your mouth swallows the tip, you both groan at the feeling. He's warm and big, and you can only take him halfway before you bob your head back up, swirling your tongue around his tip to collect the precum. He tastes a little salty, and it only makes you moan more as you try to take him deeper with each wet slurp.
You suck his cock until he's nudging the back of your mouth, and you can feel another wave of your arousal drench your panties as you do it again and again, losing yourself in the feeling of him filling your mouth so deliciously. Your eyes flutter shut, and the hand that's not pumping the rest of his length that doesn't fit in your mouth moves to his balls, squeezing them in your palm as you moan around his cock filthily.
"Fuck, baby, you feel so good." Yoongi groans, and his hand rests on the back of your head, putting a little pressure each time your head moves down, making you take him deeper and deeper. "Does it feel good when I hit the back of your mouth? I bet your mouth isn't the only thing wet, huh?" The whimper you make in response makes Yoongi smirk, his thighs spreading as he lifts his hips towards your warm mouth.
He holds you still, fucking up into your mouth as you slobber on his cock, using your drool to slide in deeper. You're doing so well for him, looking so pretty as his cock stretches your mouth open, and then he triggers your gag reflex - sinking his cock down your throat and making your throat squeeze around his shaft as he groans low from his chest.
"Yeah, just like that. Your mouth feels so good, Baby." He praises, and when he guides your mouth off his cock to give you a moment to breathe, a string of saliva connects your lips to his tip, making his eyes roll back as he pushes you back down onto his cock. "Just a little more - yeah, that's it - always knew your mouth was made to take my cock."
Heat flushes from your cheeks and down your neck from his words, your nails digging into his thighs, and it's almost embarrassing how turned on it makes you. When your nose hits his pelvis, his cock pulses down your throat, and your pussy clenches pathetically in need. All of your thoughts are of him. On the way, his head falls back, his pretty neck exposed as he lets out little pants when your tongue licks up the underside of his cock. The way his thighs tense when you play with his balls, he has to be close, and he proves it's true when he pulls you off his cock again when you suck on his tip like you're trying to make him cum too quickly.
"I'm not cumming down your throat," he huffs, pulling you up until you're back on his lap, "If I cum, it'll be in your pretty pussy, okay?"
He pushes your skirt up around your waist, exposing your panties glued to your wet folds, and your face burns as his fingers drag up the laced material, feeling just how wet you were for him.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs, and when he pulls your panties to the side to tease the tip of his cock around your puffy clit, you whine.
"Please," your hips twitch, and Yoongi's eyes sparkle as he taps your clit with the head of his cock again and again.
"What was that?" He hummed and notched his cock to your entrance, putting only a bit of pressure so you could feel what was to come. "Please, what? Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you." His thumb is tucked between your wet folds, finding your clit with ease, and short-circuiting your brain with the little swirls he gives it.
Your eyes roll back, and your hips move on their own, sinking yourself onto his cock with a broken whine. Taking what you want instead, as your hands rest on his chest, and your thighs tremble from the stretch of him. You move halfway down before moving back up, letting his cock split you open with each movement you make.
If you thought he felt good in your mouth, nothing compares to when he's bullying his way inside your pretty pussy. His thick shaft stretches your gummy walls apart, carving him a path deeper until your ass meets his thighs, and your mouth drops open stupidly.
When he moves his hand from your clit to push on your lower stomach, your cunt throbs, feeling his fat tip rub on a spot you didn't even know existed. Your eyes water, your toes curl, and Yoongi's grabbing a handful of your ass to swirl your hips around, keeping pressure on your stomach to truly make you see white. "Yeah, does that feel good? Do you feel me nice and deep inside?"
He's going to ruin you, you just know it, because your tongue feels too heavy to reply, so you lift your hips, leaving just the tip of his pretty cock inside before your sliding back down, picking up the pace so you can feel him hit the back of your cunt over and over again.
And Yoongi lets you. He gives you the control to set the pace, enjoying the way you bounce on his cock like he was your toy to use. He thinks you're so pretty looking fucked out, and whimpering like it too. And he tells you so, murmuring, "Yeah, show me how well you take my cock." "Got your pussy and mouth drooling, you needed this, didn't you?" "Yeah, take what you want, Baby. I'll take care of you."
It's not a surprise when not long after, your pussy squeezes his cock tighter, and your body tenses up as you have your first orgasm of the night. You fall forward, quivering in his lap, and he coos as he tilts your hips up, fucking up into you to make your orgasm drag out longer. He relishes in the way your face tucks into his neck, and how sloppy your pussy sounds as it gushes wet and hot on his cock.
He takes care in prolonging your high, praising you, as he moves you up and down his cock. He makes your brain shut off, building your second orgasm right after the first as the wet sounds of your pussy resonate louder in the apartment with each thrust his hips give. And you don't even realize you're meeting each of his movements until he teases you. "Such a needy thing, aren't you? Already fucking yourself back onto my cock - heh - you want to cum again, Baby? Let me see you make a mess."
His arms wrap around your back, keeping your chest against his as he bucks his hips forward, smacking the tip of his cock into the sweet spot that makes you see stars behind closed eyelids. He abuses it, and you're thrown into your second orgasm with a wail, crying his name as you clutch onto his shoulder and the couch as you cum hard.
Your cunt spasms, milking his cock, and he groans as he keeps you seated on his lap, his cock swelling at the tip as he cums moments after you. His cock twitches, filling your pussy with his warm cum, and your moan is broken as you feel it overstuff your pussy, forming a creamy ring around his base as you two try to catch your breath.
The reality of what you two have done begins to form as you start to think about it. You two are coworkers, and an office relationship wasn't unheard of, but wasn't really encouraged either. Did Yoongi even want a relationship? Or was this just tension relief after surviving a long week in the office?
Before you can properly spiral while sitting on his cock, he hums, caressing your back with mindless swirls from his fingertips. "I must have done something wrong," he muses, and that's when you feel his cock, it's still hard, and twitching against your velvety walls. "I can feel you thinking too hard when you should have been fucked stupid by now." He teases, and your pussy clenches wantonly, making him groan as he moves his hands back down to your ass. "Yeah, I think I need to fill your pussy up again. I don't need you thinking about anything other than how your pussy was made for me. And I'll prove it, all weekend if I need to."
대박 - you made it to the end!
Tell me about it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ♡ . Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and they help writers like me to get a better reach. Thank you for your support!
summary: yoongi leaves on tour tomorrow and tonight he’s determined to make the most of the time he has with you. And maybe taking a little souvenir for the trip
tags: established relationship, idol au, smut
wc: ~2.1k
warnings: oral (f and m receiving), face riding, tit play, nipple sucking, unprotected sex, cumshot, sex filming, face fucking, jungkookie makes an appearance, yoongi calls reader good girl, 2021 redhead yoongi because he lives in my head rent free
Tonight, Yoongi’s determined to memorize you. He leaves for Europe tomorrow. Seven countries, fourteen sold-out shows. A month without seeing you, without touching you. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he devours your pussy like it's his last meal. Naked and hard, his cock twitches but he ignores it, focused entirely on you.
“Oh god, Yoongi,” you moan loudly as his tongue swirls against your clit. “That feels so fucking good.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth works you over, lips sucking gently on your folds before flicking back to your sensitive nub. “Baby, please. I need you to fuck me,” you beg.
“Not yet,” he murmurs as his hands leave your ass to cup your breasts, his thumbs finding your nipples and tugging at them. “Let me eat this pretty pussy a bit more.” He sucks your clit between his lips, making you gasp.
“Please…,” you whine, grinding against him. “I need you… I need you inside me, now.”
He hums, teasing a few more languid licks over your folds before finally letting you up. “Come here,” he says, gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lap. He lines himself up, pressing the tip inside you. You gasp as you take him fully, your walls clenching around him, and Yoongi curses softly.
“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” You lean down, crashing your lips against his, kissing him, letting your body melt over his.
Breaking the kiss, he pulls back and cups your face with his hands. “I'm going to miss this so much.” He grips your waist, thumbs brushing your hips as he leans closer. “God, I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.
“I love you too,” you reply. “A month will fly by, Yoongi. You’ll be right back here before you know it.”
Yoongi’s free hand snakes up, yanking the neckline of your thin top down roughly. The fabric stretches and bunches beneath your breasts, freeing them completely. You whimper as his fingers pinch and roll your nipples, tugging them. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, letting his hand drift over your skin. “I need to film this. I have to.”
“Go ahead,” you say, brushing your hair back.
Yoongi reaches over to the nightstand where his phone rests, and starts recording. “Come on, baby,” he encourages you. “Make those tits bounce for me.” He zooms in on your chest as you roll your hips faster, cupping your breasts with both hands.
“Yeah. Just like that. Show off for the camera.” You start slamming up and down harder. “Pinch your nipples,” he murmurs, and you obey, clamping your fingers on your sensitive peaks. “Pull them for me.” You tug at them, feeling your inner walls clamp around his cock. “That’s it. So fucking beautiful. You're squeezing me so good,” he says. “Lean forward. Look at me. Good girl. Tell me how good it feels.”
You bite your lip, panting. “S-so fucking good, Yoongi. Your big cock is filling me so deep, I can feel it everywhere.”
He groans, tightening his hold on your waist. “Yeah… say more.”
“I love how you make me feel. How full I am… I’m gonna miss this so much.”
Sliding one hand up to cup your breast, his thumb circles your nipple. “Next time, you’re coming with me.” He leans down and whispers in your ear, “Fuck. I’d send this to the guys if I could,” he mutters, starting to pump a little faster.
“You would?” Your pussy clenches again, tighter.
He looks at you as he smirks. “They’d love to see how pretty you look getting fucked. They’re all jealous of me, I know that. Here.” He hands you the phone. “Your turn.”
Taking the phone in your hands, you angle it down to capture yourself straddling him. Your hips roll slowly against his, and he shifts upward, pressing into you as he groans. His hands cup your breasts, squeezing them. “Mmmh…,” he pants. “So fucking pretty.” Without breaking eye contact he leans forward, taking your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as he sucks, making you whimper.
The phone shakes in your hands as he sucks. You lift it slightly, and he reaches up, taking it from you. “Let me,” he says.
“Yoongi, God. I’m close–” He puts the phone down and pulls out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He shifts you onto your back, settling between your legs. Grinning, he picks the phone back up. With one hand, he teases your entrance with just the tip of his cock. He zooms in, “you’re so wet, all of that for me?” he murmurs, dragging the tip along your slit.
“Yes,” you gasp. “Fuck me, Yoongi.” His free hand slides down to rub your clit, thumb pressing just right, while the other keeps the phone pointed at you, capturing how his cock slides inside you again. When he bottoms out, your walls clamp around him.
“You're so hot, baby. Just like that. Squeeze me tighter. Yeah, milk my cock.” He groans, leaning closer, shifting his grip. “That’s it… let go. I’ve got you.” He whispers as his thumb circles your clit. “Look at me. Show me that pretty face when you cum. Let me see how good I fuck you, baby.” Your body trembles and your hips jerk as you ride out your orgasm again, looking at him.
Spent and trembling, you lift off him, and his cock glistens with your cum. You collapse to the side. “Baby, get on your knees for me. I wanna feel that mouth on my cock.” His voice is commanding yet playful, and you slide off the bed, kneeling on the soft carpet as he stands, phone in hand, angling it down at you.
You look up at him.Your lips part as you take his cock in your hand, stroking the base. “Like this?” you tease, before leaning in to lick the tip, tasting yourself on him.
“Exactly like that. Show the camera how good you are at taking cock.” The lens is focused on your face as you wrap your lips around him, sucking him deep into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head. His free hand threads into your hair, guiding you gently. “Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Suck it harder. Yeah, just like that. Such a good girl for me.”
You work him eagerly, with one hand pumping what your mouth can't reach. His hips thrust shallowly, fucking your face as the phone captures the obscene sight. “I'm close, baby. Gonna cum all over that pretty face and those tits.” He warns, but you pull off with a pop, your hand fisting his cock fast.
“Do it. Cum on me.” Eyes glued on the lens, you pump him until he groans, and ropes of hot cum shoot across your face, splattering your cheeks and lips, then lower, painting your breasts white.
Later, when you're snuggled against his chest with his phone in your hand as you hit play on the video. The screen lights up with the scene. Yoongi chuckles as his hand cups one breast and his thumb brushes your nipple lazily. “Fucking gorgeous.”
As the video hits the blowjob part, he smirks. “Jungkookie would love this. That kid's got it bad for you.”
You blink, pausing the video. “What?”
He pinches your nipple lightly, grinning. “Come on, baby, you know how he looks at you every time you're in a bikini. He's a total loser for these tits.” His fingers roll the hardened peak. “He stares like he's never seen a pair before.” You laugh softly, considering it.
“You think? I mean, if you wanna show him... I'm okay with it.” The idea doesn't bother you. On the contrary, it excites you, knowing Yoongi's comfortable enough to do it.
“I bet he would jerk himself stupid watching it.” He squeezes gently.
“Yeah, maybe he would,” you softly, hitting play again.
Next morning, you wake up to an empty bed. Still naked with the sheets tangled around your legs, there’s a dull ache between your thighs that reminds you of last night. From the closet, you hear Yoongi moving around, packing his last minute bag.
A pang hits your chest, a month without him feels endless. He notices you're awake and crosses to the bed, leaning down for a goodbye kiss. His lips brush yours softly at first, but then it gets deep. His tongue slips inside your mouth as his hand finds your breast and squeezes it as his thumb grinds against the nipple until it hardens.
You moan into his mouth and his free hand tangles in your hair, pulling you to tilt your head back. Your body responds instantly, but reality crashes in. You pull back, “Yoongi, stop. As much as I’d love for you to fuck me dumb right now, you'll miss your plane id you don't leave soon.”
He groans, but gives in, nipping your lip. “Fine.”
“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth as he pulls back.
He smiles, brushing a thumb over your jaw before pressing one last kiss to your lips. “I love you too. Send me pics, dirty ones. Keep me sane while I’m gone.”
“Promise,” you murmur, watching him grab his bag and head for the door. He glances back once, blowing you a kiss before disappearing down the hall.
As the days go by, you watch the video alone in bed as your fingers slide over yourself, sometimes using a toy. You see yourself riding him, feel his hands on your breasts, how full he made you, how good he fucked you. Damn, you miss him so bad.
Yoongi texts you updates from Europe. One night he tells you he's already watched the video four times. “Can't wait to get back and have your pussy around my cock again, baby.” You laugh.
A few weeks before their departure, while you're lounging on the couch in your apartment, scrolling through your phone, a text notification pops up. It's from Jungkook. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.
[ Jungkookie ] noona. yoongi hyung showed me the video
[ Jungkookie ] now can’t stop thinking about it
[ Jungkookie ] you looked so fucking good
[ Jungkookie ] when he came on ur tits.. fuck
You laugh, taking a screenshot of your chat with Jungkook and send it to Yoongi.
[ Yoongs🖤 ] told you he’d love it
[ Yoongs🖤 ] send him something more, make him suffer
[ You ] on it
You switch back to Jungkook's chat.
[ You ] naughty boy. want more?
He answers almost immediately.
[ Jungkookie ] fuck yeah
You dig through your gallery until you find a pic from your Bali trip last year.
There was this hidden beach behind the cliffs. It was scorching hot, so you stripped down and ran straight into the water. You made sure it was secluded and nobody could see you, because you definitely didn’t want paparazzi pics of your tits all over the internet.
Yoongi followed after you. He was so attractive, naked and reckless, that you couldn't help but jump into his arms and give him a passionate kiss. As he pressed against you and sucked at your neck, the water splashed around you. His hands gripped your ass and held you firmly against his hard cock.
You fucked right there, with the sand sticking to your sweaty skin, moaning into each other’s mouths as the waves washed around you. After he came inside you, he said you looked so hot he had to take pictures.
Yoongi went all out with a full improvised photoshoot, but the picture you send Jungkook shows you on your knees in the sand, your hair wet and plastered to your face and shoulders, cheeks flushed from the heat, your breasts on full display and a lazy, satisfied smile on your face.
[ Jungkookie ] i’m actually gonna die
[ Jungkookie ] it's unfair that hyung can see you like that whenever he wants
You go back to Yoongi and send him another screenshot of Jungkook’s reply.
[Yoongs 🖤] kid's good with the camera, next time he could record us
[ You ] maybe we could let him do more than just watch
[Yoongs 🖤] you know i’d be more than fine with that baby
→ synopsis: You'd think after two years in Seoul, nothing would surprise you anymore. You've navigated the language barrier, survived a job and built a friendship with Hana—the only person who understands why threatening a vending machine is a perfectly reasonable response to a bad day. But when a mob of screaming fans chases a stranger in a black hoodie into your path, you yell at him like a lunatic, drag him into your building, and discover—surprise!—that you've just rescued Jeon Jungkook from BTS. All could end there. But here's the thing: Jungkook has an idea. A really weird one, about a deal and needing something only you can provide. Something that sounds absolutely insane and also kind of... tempting? The kind of trouble that doesn't have an escape plan—and the kind of deal you probably shouldn't say yes to.
→ genre: romance, comedy, idol au, slow burn, fake relationship, smut, fluff, angst, bickering intensity, two idiots in denial.
→ warnings: 18+ only, mdni, explicit language, sexual themes, sasaeng themes and behavior, anxiety and depression, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, internal screaming.
SUMMARY. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do girls. As the first son of the Jeon family, heir to more money than God, he’s spent thirty years being perfectly fine without them. He doesn’t have any desire to engage in frivolous rendezvouses like his friends, nor enter a situationship that will distract him from the title of CEO. That is, until his best friends drag him to a strip club for his birthday and a girl in red lingerie falls right into his lap, and well… there goes that ideology.
pairing. stripper!oc x virgin!jungkook
word count. 17.2k
warnings/genre. inexperienced!koo, virgin!koo, soft dom!oc, stripper!oc, everyone’s horny, male masturbation, public dry humping???, lap dancing, mention of slutting yourself out obv, jk steals oc’s panties, strip teasing, virginity loss, oral (m receiving), titty fucking, jungkook cums a LOT help, cowgirl
note. hi my pookietons! this was supposed to be out weeks ago but unfortunately my fiancé’s mom passed away and it has been a rough time in the household. luckily, things are starting to get back to normal and i’m trying to stay optimistic about things. writing has always been my outlet for my emotions, and having this community during this time has been such a blessing. i’m so grateful for you all and hope you enjoy this diabolical read 🤍
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| playlist
banner creds | masterlist
Jeon Jungkook has been seeing black for the past 25 minutes, and quite frankly, he’s fed up with the situation.
He was under the impression that his birthday meant doing what he wanted to do, not getting kidnapped by his six closest friends and getting tossed into a Cadillac for a ‘big birthday surprise.’ If Jungkook wanted a surprise for his birthday, he would’ve just asked his assistant to book out a restaurant of her choosing. Or done absolutely nothing, which was the original plan and, truthfully, a perfect one.
It’s not that Jungkook necessarily despises his birthday—although it is tough to celebrate happily when your family is as strict and prim as his— but more that he doesn’t see the point in it. He would much rather spend money on himself, perhaps buying the new car he had his eye on. Not squeezed in the back of his car with his best friends.
They often lived a different lifestyle than he did. His friends worked hard as most people did in his circle, but they played harder. Weekends were swallowed up by clubs and bottle service and girls whose names they’d forgotten by Monday morning.
Jungkook had never quite understood the appeal. He had a company to inherit, a father who tracked his every move like a hawk and exactly zero interest in giving the man more ammunition. Jeon Wooshik had made it abundantly clear that the CEO seat came with conditions, and Jungkook had spent the better part of his twenties checking every box that his father had almost run out of things to criticize.
So, really, this whole thing is juvenile. Immature and foolish. But considering he’s blindfolded and handcuffed, he doesn’t really have a say in the matter.
“Kook! We’re hereeee,” He recognizes Kim Seokjin’s voice, his hyung. Jin was four years his senior and had the emotional maturity to show for it exactly none of the time. He was Namjoon’s best friend first, then Jungkook’s by proximity, and somewhere along the way had appointed himself a permanent fixture in Jungkook’s life whether he wanted him there or not.
Kim Namjoon, though, he trusted unconditionally despite his laidback lifestyle. If Namjoon had signed off on this, there was a reason. Jungkook just wished the reason didn’t involve handcuffs.
“Alright, jokes fucking over. Can you take off this shit?” Jungkook asks flatly.
He hears the car door open, and warm hands are guiding him out of the vehicle, little giggles and snickers filling the cool night air.
“He speaks!” Taehyung cackles, arguably the most immature of them all. (Well, between him and Park Jimin.)
“What a grump,” Jimin adds, and he sounds closer, so Jungkook assumes it’s his soft hands leading him somewhere. “Look at his cutie little face.”
“Feels kinda unfair I can’t see any of your faces.”
“Jungkookie,” Someone squeezes his cheek, and he has to fight the urge to punch the air.
“Ugh, his pout is so cute, Jin-hyung,” Taehyung giggles again, and Jungkook sighs. He can already tell Taehyung is drunk, since he only laughs in such a way when Jimin is shamelessly flirting with him or he’s drunk too much soju.
“I’m going to kill all of you—“
A hand finally yanks the blindfold off his face, as another undoes the handcuffs digging into his wrists. Jungkook blinks into the dark, vision swimming. When his eyes finally do adjust, six faces grin back at him, varying degrees of giddiness painted across their expressions.
Jungkook surveys his surroundings as quickly as he can. He’s in a parking lot… it’s packed to the brim with all kinds of cars, none that are as expensive as his. Bass pounds in his eardrum from the nearby entrance, but when he cranes his neck to peer inside, he sees nothingness. A void that leaves everything up to the imagination.
The front door is musty, worn down and guarded by one man who’s watching something on his phone. “Paradise” in flashing letters hangs off the top, flickering as though someone had forgotten to pay the bill. And underneath it, “Adult Club.”
Fucking hell.
“What,” he says slowly, “is that.”
“Birthday surprise,” Jin jokes, and the boys giggle like schoolgirls.
Jungkook looks over at Namjoon. Namjoon, to his credit, has the decency to look sheepish. His friends know him better than anyone. People don’t gain access to Jeon Jungkook easily—and yet they failed him so astonishingly he can’t even believe it. This goes against everything he stands for. Clubs of any kind are forbidden. Especially strip clubs, where any lone person can recognize him and report back to his father.
As if Namjoon can smell the rebuttal on his lips, he rushes to argue, “It’s fun in there.”
Jungkook snorts, “I doubt that. If my dad finds out, I’m fucking toast.”
“Your dad’s not gonna find out,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “We’ve been here like once a month and you’re not allowed to take pictures. Out of respect for the girls or some shit.”
A shiver rolls down Jungkook’s back at the word girls. The thought of them annoys him already. “This is stupid, you know? I’m not even into this kind of shit.”
“Yeah, we know,” Taehyung slaps his shoulder, trying to steer him toward the entrance, but Jungkook is fortunately bulkier than him. “You’re the king of the land, Jeon Jungkook, refuses to touch a woman because he’s better than all of them.”
“Fuck off, Tae.”
“Dude, come on. Live a little. It’s your birthday and your boys want to treat you to a night of fun. How could you say no to that?” Jin begs, and Jungkook comes up with a plethora of ways he could say no to this.
Jungkook sighs, staring at the door. On the other side of it are things he cannot get involved in. He has a board meeting Monday morning he hasn’t prepped for yet. A pristine reputation that took the better part of a decade to build. He has a father who has Google alerts set for his name.
He really, really should not be here.
Jungkook turns to face the six faces staring back at him expectantly.
“It’s your birthday,” Namjoon tries feebly one more time.
“That is not the argument you think it is—”
“Jungkook-ah.” Jin steps forward and puts both hands on his shoulders. “We love you. We have always loved you. And it is because we love you that we are telling you, as a united front, that you are going inside that door if we have to carry you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Jungkook retorts, and all Jin does is raise his brows back at him. Well played.
The silence that follows is not reassuring.
Jungkook realizes this is one negotiation he is not going to win. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I fucking hate you guys. One hour tops, and I’m out of there.”
“That’s a good boy,” Jin pats his shoulder like he’s a dog and pushes him in the direction of the entrance. “Let’s get on in there.”
The bouncer at the front seems to finally recognize he has a job when the seven men walk up, beady eyes scanning their faces before they land on Namjoon in the back. “Joon!” he calls out, reaching over to give him a firm handshake, nearly knocking Jungkook flat on the floor. Of course Namjoon knows the fucking bouncer—he’s probably reached some kind of reward status at this club. He doesn’t bother checking anyone’s IDs, just lets all of them sidle in.
Jungkook steps through the door and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Goddamnit.
Red lights flash over the club floor, speakers blasting some RnB song he doesn’t recognize. The place is enormous, larger than he thought, with a main stage dominating the room. Two strippers dance on the two poles adjacent to each other, men perched on chairs with wads of cash stuffed in their hands. Booths line the walls, packed with men in varying states of losing their minds. All decked in suits, loosened collars and flushed faces and eyes tracking the room with an attention they probably never give their actual jobs. Private tables closer to the stage are worse. Bottles everywhere, dollar bills everywhere.
The worst part of it all, is how many girls there are. Girls in lingerie, silk and lace that barely constitute fabric, moving through the room in what feels like slow motion. Every single one of them moves like she knows exactly where she’s going and exactly what’s going to happen when she gets there.
“Kim Namjoon?” A hostess approaches in normal clothes—thank god—and he steps forward to speak to her, all hushed whispers and suspicious glances back at Jungkook. Enough for him to know that this night will be anything but casual. Jungkook expects he’ll have an ass in his face in twenty minutes tops.
She smiles at all of them, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Hi boys! Welcome to Paradise. I know some of you have been here before, so I’ll keep it brief. No pictures or videos allowed. If we catch you, you’re banned for life. ATMs are lined up against the wall, so make sure you take out cash beforehand so you don’t have to get up.”
She pauses to ensure everyone understands, eyes lingering on Jungkook, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. It’s not rocket science. It’s a strip club. “I heard we’re celebrating a birthday tonight, so Joon has booked a private table for you all. Dancers will rotate by your table and you better make them feel like the shit, because they are. Got it?”
All boys nod in unison. Jungkook side-eyes Jimin and Tae, and already, they have heart eyes forming. It’s despicable. The hostess leads them through the room, weaving between tables without looking, heels silent on the floor, not once glancing back to check if they’re following. The private table is tucked a few feet off the main floor, with curved booth seating, a pole attached from the ceiling hanging right in front of them, and a clear sightline to the stage. Bottles are already sweating on ice in the center like they’d been expecting them (which Jungkook is certain is the work of his hyungs).
The boys pile in with zero decorum. Hoseok immediately reaches for a bottle, passing out glasses to pour up shots of soju and whiskey. Jungkook allows him to be overserved, because there’s no other scenario in which he gets through this night without being wasted. He doesn’t know where to look, which means he keeps looking everywhere. He’s not stupid — he knows objectively that women are attractive. He’s always known that. It’s just that knowing it theoretically and sitting in a room saturated with it are two very different things.
Jeon Jungkook’s disinterest in women never stemmed from anything other than the fear of being mediocre. His high school life, which should’ve been filled with bad decision making and girlfriends, was instead taken over by shadowing his father at the office or learning how to use Microsoft Excel to make financial reports. College was a repeat, and he adapted easily to the hermit lifestyle he had been living. Even once he graduated, he made no attempt to date anyone. His mother, a frivolous woman who lived off the family money with ease, had once asked him if he was gay or asexual. Unfortunately for her, he is neither.
He is just, quite literally, indifferent to what women can offer.
That’s not to say Jungkook doesn’t get horny (hence dispelling the asexual rumors). Jungkook masturbates as often as most normal guys do, mostly when he’s frustrated by work. But instead of seeking respite in another woman’s vagina, he uses his own hand, which has worked perfectly well for him.
And, well, there is this other… thing he’s kept locked with a key within him. Deep in his unconscious, something not even a therapist could uncover. The fear that he might be bad at it.
It sounds ridiculous when it crosses his mind for even a second. He does not do things badly. He does not do things at all until he’s certain he can do them well. That’s just how he's wired, has always been wired, the same compulsion that made him practice his father’s presentations in the mirror at fifteen until they were perfect.
It is exceedingly unfortunate that this is not something one can research into oblivion or competence. You learn by experience. And the idea of being in front of someone, exposed and vulnerable, makes him want to die.
“Jungkook-ah, look at the girl in the pink,” Namjoon whispers into his ear, fighting to be heard over the bass. “She’s so fucking hot.”
His eyes wander over to where Namjoon is trying to subtly point. A girl in pink lingerie roams the stage, lashes batting flirtatiously as she lets the pole sit between her ass cheeks. Jungkook doesn’t have time to respond to his hyung before he’s being (rudely) interrupted by a girl in light blue lingerie, standing over their table with a smile. “Hi boys, how are we doing tonight?”
The boys, minus Jungkook, whoop and yell, and he wants to crawl into the booth and hide. They’re acting like wild vultures, and his brain is reeling trying to comprehend what’s unfolding in front of him.
Before his mind can catch up, he feels a wad of cash slithering into his palm.
“Just go with it,” Namjoon murmurs from beside him, already clapping.
He gulps as he peers down at the bills in his hand. The girl in blue has climbed onto the small raised platform in the center of their table, one hand wrapping around the pole. Up close she’s gorgeous—warm tanned skin, black curly hair spilling over one shoulder, a devious twinkle in her eye.
Her hips roll in a figure eight, one hand trailing the length of the pole as the other moves down her waist. She turns, spine arching back, and the boys lose their collective minds. Bills flutter onto the platform like confetti, and a small smile contorts onto her plush lips.
With both hands, she drops into a low squat, thighs spread, and comes back up in a languid motion. Hoseok physically slaps the table, tossing twenties to no avail.
Okay, calm down, he thinks distantly. His heartbeat is picking up in his chest.
She spins, one leg extending wide, the momentum carrying her around the pole in a slow arc before she hooks her knee and drops back in a hang that makes the fabric of her lingerie ride up her thighs. The light catches her and Jungkook forgets, very briefly, that he came here against his will.
Taehyung’s on his feet as fast as he can move. Jungkook can only watch in horror as Taehyung peels a bill from his stack and stuffs it right into the waistband of her panties. She giggles and turns toward him. Tae grins up at her and she leans down, curly hair falling forward, and shakes her chest right in his face.
Taehyung tips his head back and says something Jungkook cannot hear over the music, but it evokes another laugh from her. Jungkook’s mind is blank, save for the images of ass and tits flying across his vision.
Jungkook sits very still and feels something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time shift somewhere low in his stomach.
He is not indifferent, it turns out.
He is just very, very in over his head.
The girl turns back to the rest of them, eyeing them up as though to decide her next victim. Her eyes linger on Jungkook for a few seconds, and his heart thumps out of its cage.
He’s aware of what he looks like. He’s not a fool, after all. Tattooed arm, a body sculpted by Greek gods, multiple facial and ear piercings. The irony of it is not lost on him—all that packaging, none of the experience to back it up.
He’s had girls lining up to talk to him, but not a single one that could hold his interest. Jungkook could care less.
But it seems she recognizes he’s not eager to talk to her, and so she focuses her attention on Jimin, who’s practically panting like a puppy left out in the sun for too long. She does a few tricks for him on the pole, all of which are rewarded with bills and yells.
“Candy, you don’t plan on keeping these boys all to yourself, do you?”
A melodic voice, almost like a siren’s, floats into Jungkook’s ear. His body stiffens, muscles taut as his eyes avert over the table to spot a woman.
Jungkook’s not gay by any means. He’s also not fucking blind. The woman that stands before him is an angel, a goddess, a temptation for him sent from hell. Adorned in red lacy lingerie and white knee socks with red bows on them… utterly fucking delicious.
He’s drooling.
“They’re all yours, Angel,” the stripper, apparently named Candy, says with a grin, sliding off the platform, and just like that she relinquishes the pole like a crown being passed. In one smooth motion, you climb up, nimble fingers wrapping around the pole. Immediately, his friends turn into wild animals, even more explicit than before. Taehyung stands from his seat, eyes blanking as he observes how your thong hugs your hips and ass.
You alternate through a series of movements—slow spin, then fast, one leg extended in a line. You hook your knee around the pole and lean back, hair falling away from your face, and the red lace catches the light. Jungkook’s higher brain functions vacate the premises. Money rains onto the platform, more than he expected.
He realizes he’s also holding money, and it’s as though a lightbulb flashes above his head. Oh shit, he thinks. He wants to spend his entire wallet on you.
You climb down and drop straight into Namjoon’s lap like you’ve known him for years. Kim Namjoon, the most composed man Jungkook has ever met, grins like an idiot. You lean in close to say something to him, pink, lush lips brushing his ear, and Namjoon laughs low before responding with a hushed whisper.
Slowly, you pull away from his ear, eyes twinkling.
And then you glance over at Jungkook.
It’s a half-second, a flicker, the most minor redirection of your attention imaginable. A slide of your eyes that lands on him and then lifts away.
His cock twitches in his pants. It is, quite literally, the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. In that moment, he realizes he wants nothing more than your attention, your time, you. But he just doesn’t know what he has to do to get such a thing. To be able to deserve a woman as delectable as you.
A flutter of giggles escapes your mouth, cheeks ruddy as you get up from Namjoon’s lap.drifting around the curve of the table, all seven pairs of eyes track you like flowers following light. Taehyung fans himself with a hundred dollar bill, and you immediately gravitate towards him.
Jungkook watches you kiss his cheek. Watches Taehyung’s hands find your waist. Watches him stuff a fistful of bills into the back of your lingerie, give your ass a playful smack that you welcome with a laugh. He wants to blow his brains out.
He deadpans at the ice bucket instead.
“Fucking hottest girl I’ve ever seen," Namjoon mutters beside him, just loud enough for him to catch, "Don’t you think, Jungkook-ah?”
Jungkook’s tongue is tied into knots.
“She’s a sin,” Namjoon continues.
Across the table, you laugh at something Taehyung says, head tipping back, throat exposed, and the red lace shifts. Jungkook moves with it, recrossing his legs under the table and tugging his shirt down to hide the growing tent in his pants.
Namjoon notices the movement, looking down for a millisecond before peering at Jungkook smugly.
He claps Jungkook on the back, “Welcome,” he says, “to being a fucking man.”
“I hate you so fucking much right now.”
“Your dick doesn’t hate me.”
He’s not technically wrong, per se. Jungkook just refuses to admit he’s right.
Taehyung leans up to murmur something in your ear, and you pull back with a slow smile spreading across your face.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no—your body turns to look directly at Jungkook.
Jungkook has closed deals worth nine figures, has sat across from men who built empires from nothing and held their gaze at the age of 20 without a care in the world. He has endured his father’s silent disappointment across a dinner table for 30 consecutive years.
Like a cartoon character with a fork stuck in his throat, he gulps audibly.
You start walking toward him, your eyes piercing into it. They don’t leave his face not once, not even to check where you’re stepping or acknowledge the table erupting in cheers around you.
Namjoon slides over calmly to make room, and Jungkook watches the space beside him open up and thinks what the fuck are you doing and means it directed at every single person in this room, including himself.
You stop in front of him, and he peers up at you. In those heels, you tower over him, and he notices the smirk that’s curved upon your lips. Evil. You’re fucking evil.
Trepidly, you sink down onto your knees, maintaining eye contact.
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god —
His cock twitches so hard he has to lock every muscle in his body to keep from visibly reacting.
“Hi,” you smile.
“Hi,” he replies with bated breath.
You already know. He can tell you already know exactly what you’re doing to him and precisely how badly he’s losing. Somehow that makes it so much worse and so much better.
Your hand comes to land up on his thigh, snaking up and up until he swears you’re going to stick your hand in his pants. You stop right on his inner thigh, feeling the muscle. He swears he sees a twinkle in your eyes at the realization. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm every nerve ending in his body.
“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, trying not to be heard by the group of animals that he unfortunately calls his friends.
“J-Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”
“Jungkook.” You repeat the name with so much seduction it almost doesn’t even sound recognizable to him.
You stand up, and he exhales the deepest breath. God fucking damnit. Of course you’re done with him—he stuttered his own name like he’d never used it before. He watches you straighten up and thinks okay. okay, that’s fine. that was a normal amount of humiliation for one evening.
But instead of leaving, your knee lands on the cushion beside his thigh, followed by the other one, and then you’re in his lap. The air leaves his lungs in one swift, silent evacuation. Your lace panties settle directly over the front of his pants and you shift forward, eyes panning down between you.
With a lift of your brows, you move again. Shit. He knows what you found. He can feel exactly what you found and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.
Shit shit shit—
“Look at little Kookie!” Taehyung’s voice echoes across the table, ringing in Jungkook’s ear. “He’s pink!”
Jungkook turns to look at his alleged friends with the dead eyes of a man considering his options.
And then he feels your warm hand, two fingers catching his jaw, turning his face back to yours.
“Don’t look at them, baby.” Your voice is low, meant only for him. “Look at me.”
God help him, he does.
Your eyes hold his for a moment that stretches longer than it should, and then—your hips gyrate forward in a slow circle. The warm drag of your hips moves against his, and nothing, not a single thing, has ever felt like this in his years of living.
“You’re really pretty,” you giggle, looping your arms around his neck, rolling your hips in a figure eight that makes his vision white out at the edges.
Behind you, the boys are losing their minds. Money’s flying, and Jungkook cannot process any of it because you’re shifting again, turning so that your back is pressing into his broad chest. You lean back into him, head dropping to his shoulder, and the slide of red lace against his cock is making him see actual stars. He can’t hide the groan that escapes him.
Leaning your head back to face him, you’re close enough that your breath fans across his jaw. “You’re so tense, pretty boy. These hands doing anything useful or just decorating the couch?”
He really can’t argue, because his hands are pressed flat against the cushions on either side of him, white-knuckled and rigid like he’s bracing for a car crash. “I—” he begins.
“Need help?”
Helplessly, he nods.
You reach down, take his hands and settle them on your hips. The lace is soft under his palms, plush skin warm to the touch.
“Hold on right there,” you whisper. “Don’t let go.”
An actual, audible, involuntary whimper crawls up his throat and escapes before he can catch it. With his hands on your hips he can feel every single movement now, every roll and dip and shift of your weight, and it is so much better than anything he has ever done alone in the dark of his penthouse that it almost feels like a personal insult to every year that came before this one.
“F-fuck,” he exhales. "You’re so—you’re so g-good—”
“Yeah?” You straddle him once more, knees digging into the couch, your eyes pausing to glance at his lips before meeting his eyes. Your finger comes up, tracing slowly along his lower lip, catching on the small metal ring of his lip piercing and playing with it before releasing. “What a pretty piercing for a pretty boy.”
“You like it?” Jungkook feebly asks, even though he knows you do. Every girl likes it, but none have caught his eye the way you do.
Silently, you reach past him then, fingers closing around the forgotten wad of cash still sitting on the cushion where Namjoon pressed it into his palm a lifetime ago. He watches as you lean back in his lap and drag the bills languidly across your chest, the red lace, down over the curve of your waist.
You peer up at him from under your lashes. “You were just going to let all this go to waste?” you ask, clicking your tongue.
“I—” he swallows. "I didn't know—like the protocol—”
The dopey smile that breaks across your face sends vibrations to his cock. “You’re doing so well for me already.”
You lean forward again, closing the distance, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hips keep moving. Without a second thought, he grips your hips tighter.
Somewhere behind you, he distantly registers that the boys are no longer watching. Other girls have materialized at the table, except for Namjoon and Hoseok, who are deep in a drunk conversation. It’s just you and him.
Your teeth graze his earlobe. “You know, when I saw you, I thought you’d be trouble.” A soft giggle leaves your lips. “Turns out you’re harmless.”
“I—” he starts, some distant fragment of pride assembling itself. “I’m not—”
“Harmless,” you repeat, pulling back to look at him. “The sweetest thing in this whole place.”
For an irrational moment, Jungkook forgets every reason why he can’t be caught here.
And then it’s his father’s disapproving tone, thinks about the words you represent this family everywhere you go, Jungkook, everywhere, and the Google alerts and the face his father makes when he’s upset and how Jungkook has spent his entire life trying to prevent that specific expression.
He could call his driver, go home, pretend this whole evening was a fever dream. After all, this is exactly the kind of situation that becomes a headline. Jeon heir spotted at—
Suddenly, your hands leave his shoulders. The warmth of your weight lifts off his lap all at once and the absence of it is so sudden that his body mourns it, an embarrassing physiological grief response he didn’t know he was capable of. Left behind with a raging boner that is apparent to the naked eye.
You smooth down your lingerie. Roll your shoulders back. And just like that the curtain comes back up, a polished version of you, like the last twenty minutes happened only to him. “Bye boys," you say to the table and the ones paying attention halfheartedly wave.
Then you turn to him. “Bye, Jungkook. It was nice to meet you.” With a wink, you disappear off to the next table, and all he can do is stare at the space where you were once sitting, his cock standing tall and proud in his pants.
He becomes aware, slowly, that Namjoon is looking at him. “Don’t start.”
“Wasn’t going to.”
“Ah Jungkook-ah, you just need to fuck a girl and get it over with!”
Kim Seokjin, for all his years of knowledge and wisdom, is a bit of a menace when liquor enters his bloodstream.
Jungkook has become overtly aware of two things: 1) he’s the drunkest he’s ever been and 2) the boner in his pants has yet to go down.
He had briefly considered going into the bathroom to jerk off, but that would be too obvious and embarrassing to admit, even to himself. Instead, he would much rather subject himself to the torture of his best friends and let three other women dance on him to erase the taste of you from his mouth.
Each woman was attractive, but they didn’t entice him the way you had. Even after an hour of sitting at this couch, throwing bills upon bills, nothing felt as ethereal as the feeling of your weight upon him, as though he had claimed you.
“I’m not just going to fuck any girl,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, tipping his head back to take another shot of whiskey.
“Why not?!” Jin motions wildly with his glass, sloshing amber liquid alarmingly close to the rim. “You’re 30! You’re rich! You look like… that!” He waves his hand at Jungkook’s being. “What are you saving your best years for? Soon we’ll all be pumping ashes out of our cock—”
“Jin—”
“Dust will leak from our tips!-”
“I’m going to fucking murder you.”
“He’s waiting for love,” Jimin notes, words slurred from the effects of alcohol. A black-haired girl is draped across his lap, lips peppering kisses on his supple skin. “It’s actually very romantic if you think about it.”
“I am not waiting for love.”
“He’s waiting for her,” Taehyung whispers, pointing across the room. Without even turning to look, Jungkook knows they’re talking about you. Mostly because he hasn’t been able to stop looking at you for the past hour, heat rising to his cheeks when he watches you dance on other men.
“The red lingerie girl has him in a chokehold,” Tae continues to nobody, nodding as though Jungkook is suffering from a grave disease. “I’ve seen this before. This is a chokehold situation.”
“No one except my dad has me in anything, Taehyung,” he argues.
“Your cock has suggested otherwise,” Yoongi snorts, not even looking up from his drink.
Jungkook tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, thinks about how peaceful his penthouse is right now. How peaceful. How completely devoid of these people.
From his peripheral, he watches as Hoseok leans over and cups his hand around Namjoon’s ear. He has known Kim Namjoon for ten years and he knows exactly what Namjoon’s listening face looks like versus Namjoon's scheming face. This is the second one. Very much the second one.
Namjoon’s eyes light up, and Jungkook’s body has a visceral reaction. Namjoon turns to Jin. Whispers something. Jin’s face splits into a grin so enormous it looks like his lips will crack in two.
Flatly, Jungkook asks, “What is happening right now?”
Not a single one of his friends answers. They’re doing the hive thing—buzzing between each other, passing from person to person, grins multiplying like a virus.
Jungkook clears his throat. “Excuse me.”
Namjoon ignores his words and stands up. “Where are you going,” Jungkook blurts, panic bursting in his chest. “Namjoon. Kim Namjoon. Where are you—”
But he’s already gone, sliding through the crowd, and Jungkook watches him disappear toward the back of the club where a woman in all black is standing with a clipboard. The bottom of his stomach drops out completely. He turns to the remaining members of his betrayal circle. “Whatever he’s doing, stop it now—”
“Shh,” Jin serenely says, patting his knee.
“I don’t care that I’m younger, don’t shh me.”
“Shhh.” Jungkook shrugs him off and cranes his neck toward where Namjoon is now deep in conversation with the clipboard woman, nodding, reaching into his jacket pocket. His wallet comes into view. Fuck.
Jungkook can’t imagine whipping out a wallet at the strip club is anything but bad news.
“I’m leaving,” Jungkook announces, planting both hands on the table. The way he sees it, he has about ten minutes to escape before he either blacks out or embarrasses himself even more.
Two pairs of hands push him back down immediately. “You’re not going anywhere, big boy,” Hoseok tuts.
“You’re detaining me.”
“It’s a birthday gift,” Taehyung argues, “You can’t refuse a birthday gift. It’s rude.”
“Watch me.”
Jungkook abruptly feels a slap on his back, and when he looks up, it’s Namjoon reclaiming his seat beside him, a sinister grin plastered on his face. “You’re welcome.”
Sighing, he shakes his head. “For what?”
“Happy birthday, Jungkook-ah.”
“That didn’t answer my fucking question, Namjoon.”
Before Jungkook can pester further, a shadow falls over the table. The woman with the ominous clipboard and headset is standing at the edge of their booth, and she doesn’t particularly look like she’s here to refill their drinks or anything tame.
“Which one of you is Jeon Jungkook?”
Of fucking course.
The boys erupt like zoo animals. Clapping, hollering, hands slapping his back from every direction simultaneously. Jungkook wants to cry, maybe throw himself off the balcony of his penthouse.
The woman smiles at him. “Follow me.”
“What—”
Namjoon’s hand closes around his arm and hauls him bodily upright. “Up you go, buddy.”
“I’m not—this is—you can’t just—”
But none of it matters—his feet are carrying him, brain several steps behind. He’s following the clipboard woman through the club in what feels like cement shoes. As he walks, he peers around the club—other men at tables, women moving through the dim light to reach their poles, money piling on the floor.
He is the only one who looks like he’s being escorted to his own execution.
The woman stops at a door at the back of the club. It’s unmarked, flush against the wall. She pushes it open, and the first and only thing Jungkook sees is red. Everything inside is red. A plush crimson couch curved against the far wall, red LED light bleeding over every surface.
Even the color red turns him on now. That must be your doing.
“Wait right here,” the woman instructs, stepping back toward the door. “Your private dancer will be here to join you shortly.
“My what?!”
He’s so fucked that he might need to use a new word to describe how utterly fucked he is.
The door slams shut behind her, a finite ending to his arguing. There’s no going back.
His cock jumps in his pants, and Jungkook looks down at himself in indignation. Bad, he thinks. Bad. Bad dog. We are leaving.
But he thinks that even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t. He’s thinking of you, towering over him, asserting your dominance over him. He’s spent most of his life being in charge, and for once, someone else is taking the reins and letting him sit back.
He stands in the middle of the red room until finally, his legs give up the principle of the thing and carry him to the couch. He should have known. From the moment Namjoon’s wallet came out he should have connected the dots because Kim Namjoon does not spend money without intention, has never done anything without intention, and Jungkook has known this for years and still walked directly into it like a fool.
Pressing both palms to his knees, wiping the sweat off them, he stares at the door. It might not be her, he reasons. It’s probably not her. There are lots of girls here. It could be anyone.
It would be foolish to assume someone like you would not be taken already by another dominant, assertive man. Sure, Jungkook probably has the money that most men in this club dream of, but he doesn’t have an ounce of the confidence that he needs to handle you.
Jeon Jungkook is currently sweating through an expensive shirt in a red room the size of a closet because a girl in lingerie might walk through that door.
The door swings open and the first thing Jungkook sees is—red.
Red flashes across his vision and it’s all he can see or think about.
You step inside and the LED light catches the lace, makes your curves look like they were designed by a Greek god. For a moment, your eyes adjust to the dim light, averting around the space to try and make sense of your surroundings.
But when they finally land on him, there’s a dangerous twinkle dancing in your eyes.
“We meet again.”
Loudly, he swallows whatever drool has accumulated in his mouth. The door clicks shut behind you and you move toward him, heels marking an agonizing rhythm against the floor.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
He cranes his neck as you approach, tracking you up until you’re standing directly in front of him and he has to tip his head all the way back to hold your gaze. Your lips are freshly glossed with red lipstick, he notes.
“You know,” you say, tilting your head, “I was starting to think you were scared of me.”
He opens his mouth (to say what, he’s not sure of.)
“Are you, Jungkook?” You pause, lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Scared?”
Without a single reservation, yes, he is. But he’s not entirely useless—he’ll never admit that.
Clearly, you take his non-response as an admittance of defeat. Your hand comes down, cradling the side of his face. Your manicured thumb traces his cheekbone. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything, you know. I know your friends booked this.” Your eyes are steady on his, reading him the way you’ve been reading him all night. “Or…”
He blinks like a teenage boy, saliva pooling in his mouth as you hold your words for a second.
“Do you want me, Jungkook?”
Embarrassingly, devastatingly fast, his head bobs up and down before his brain has even finished processing the question. He wants to dissolve into the couch cushions and never be found.
Your smile breaks acros your features. Pearly white teeth come into view, the realest expression he’s seen on your face all night. “Good boy. Do you have any song requests?”
You turn toward the TV mounted on the wall, and he watches you move to it, your back to him now, and somehow that’s almost worse because he can just… look. He may be a virgin, but he’s not an idiot. Your perky ass is mere inches away from his face, and his fingers itch to reach out and squeeze the plush skin in his hand.
With his eyes still trained on your ass, he says, “U-um. Anything. I don’t—I don’t care.”
“Hmm.” You bite your lip, scrolling. Jungkook begins to hope you never turn back around so he can relish in the shape of your ass all night. That would be well worth Namjoon’s money, he thinks.
The opening beat of a song drops from the speakers and Jungkook goes completely still. Of all the songs in the world, it’s his favorite song.
2.0 by BTS.
He’s not ashamed to listen to their music, despite them being a typical k-pop boy group. Their shit is catchy. Sue him.
You swivel back around and your hands come down onto his thighs. You lean down enough that your hair falls forward and he can smell your perfume again. His hands curl into fists at his sides.
Your eyes drag themselves down to his pants, like they’re ogling at the very unfortunate situation he’s unable to handle. Then they drift back up as if you saw nothing at all.
“You know,” you say, your voice dropping to something that would be condescending if it were anyone else. “I’ve had a lot of men in this room.”
He swallows back the bile that threatens to rise up his throat. He’d rather not think about them. .
“But none of them—” your fingers press into his thighs, just slightly, “I’ve wanted to have as bad as I do you.”
He can feel his jaw go slack, eyes widening to the size of flying saucers.
You smile. Lean in until your lips brush the hinge of his jaw, a bare whisper of contact that makes every nerve ending in his body stand at guard. “You have no idea how bad I want you.”
Great. You must be attracted to tortured virgins who are rich and powerful but don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. “Lucky for you,” you pull back to look at him. “I’m going to take very good care of you.”
The weight on the couch shifts before he can really notice it, your knees digging into the sofa, until you’ve infiltrated every cell in his body. Above him, around him, your hands landing on his shoulders and squeezing, fingers pressing into the muscle there with a small sound of approval.
Your full, warm body settles onto his lap as though you’re at home, and really, he doesn’t think there’s enough oxygen in the room. The thought of how little space there is between you two wrings a sound out of him that he will be taking to his grave. Your panties graze slow over the length of his cock. “Fuck—”
His head drops back against the couch, neck going loose, and he stares at the ceiling like it might offer him salvation. Potentially a trapdoor.
He can feel your eyes lingering on his face, and not a single thing can be done about it because every resource he has is currently being allocated to not cumming in his pants.
Your clothed pussy drags over him through the thin barrier of your panties. He makes a sound that is not a word.
“There he is,” you murmur. Your hands slide from his shoulders up the sides of his neck, thumbs tracing his jaw, tipping his chin back down so he’s looking at you instead of the ceiling. “Stay with me.”
“I’m—” he tries. “I’m here. I’m very—I’m extremely here—”
The pace you set is torturing enough to make his eyes roll back into his head. Your lips curve. “You feel that?”
“I feel—” he swallows, “—yes. Yeah. I feel that.”
A hum leaves your mouth. Jungkook watches your eyes stay on his face and realizes with dawning, helpless clarity that you are observing every single reaction. Every twitch. None of it really matters, since he has no poker face left, has burned through every last reserve of composure he had somewhere around the moment you sat down.
Manicured hands slide down from his jaw to his chest, pressing flat against him, and you lean back to look at him from a new angle, hair falling over one shoulder, hips never breaking rhythm.
“Relax,” you softly say, fingers digging into his chest. “I can feel how tense you are.”
“I’m not tense—”
You perk an eyebrow.
“I work an intense job—”
“Jungkook.”
“Fine. I’m tense or whatever," he admits, “and I would appreciate it if you didn’t hold that against me.”
You giggle, and his stomach erupts into a nest of angry hornets, bloodthirsty insects that rival those ‘butterflies’ people get when they fall in love. Jungkook doesn’t do girls. Never has. He feels the need to remind himself once or twice.
“You’re doing so well,” you murmur, and your hips roll again, and he swears he can feel your folds against him. Or maybe wishful thinking.
He just can’t fucking think straight anymore.
“I-I’ve never done this b-before,” he whimpers as your ass rubs over his hardened length agonizingly slow. “I don’t r-really—fuck—talk to g-girls.”
His head falls back onto the couch again, small, erratic puffs of air escaping his lips.
You lean into his ear, lips coquettishly brushing against the crimson, heated skin. “I know.”
Kim Namjoon. When he gets his hands on him. It is so fucking over.
Your hands leave his shoulders. They move, traveling behind your back to undo the clip of your bra in one fell swoop. The red lace goes slack. You let it hang from two fingers, dangling, looking at his face the whole time. Then you let the red fabric drop to the floor.
Oh fuck.
Everything he knows about boobs is from porn itself. But up close, he can see your hardened peaks, stimulated and perky, ready for him to suck and play with. They’re just the right size, enough to cup in his hand. You lean forward, bracing your hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head, closing the distance between you inch by inch until your nipples graze his chest through his shirt.
He shivers, cock twitching beneath you.
“Sensitive,” you note with a whisper.
“I have—I’m wearing a shirt—”
“I know.” Your lips brush his jaw. “Imagine if you weren’t.”
He grips your hips so hard the lace bunches under his fingers. “You have no idea,” you exhale against the hinge of his jaw, “what I want to do to you.”
“Tell me.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice when it escapes him.“Please—”
You pull back to look at him, eyes an onyx black shade, lips parted.
“Have you ever touched yourself, Jungkook?” You punctuate your question with another slow grind. He whimpers in response, and the shame of it hardly registers because his cock is twitching and pulsing against his slacks, his boxers already damp with his arousal. He has never been less in control of his own body.
“Answer me.” Your nail drags across his jawline.
Jungkook can’t breathe. All he can do is grip the couch and try not to fall apart in front of a woman who looks like she has never fallen apart in her life.
“Y-yes.” he croaks, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I do.”
“Hm.” Your hips roll again, the lace of your panties catching against his slacks perfectly, perfectly, and his brain halts all coherent thoughts. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”
He thinks about women, mostly. They’re usually abstract, faceless, nothing like you. Nothing like the warm weight of you in his lap or the way you smell. Usually the entire ordeal takes him four minutes and he goes to sleep feeling embarrassed about the whole thing.
He does not say this.
“I— I think about girls.”
“Just girls?”
Your eyes peer down at him, sparkling with wonder. Your lips graze his cheek and every single neuron in his body fires at once. He’s going to fucking pass out.
God, he’s an idiot. He should’ve been having sex years ago. What was he so busy doing? Working? He gave up this for spreadsheets and impressing his father?
“Y-yeah,” he exhales. “Just—yeah.”
A small sound escapes you, something like a moan. The thought that you could be finding pleasure from this makes his cock pulse desperately in the confines of his pants.
“Well.” Your hand finds his, lifts it, and presses his palm to the curve of your hip. Guiding his grip, guiding your own rhythm, you turn him into an active participant in his own undoing.
“Next time you touch yourself.” You pick up the pace, slowly but steadily. “Think about this. Think about me. And how bad I want to fuck you.”
Fucking hell.
His eyes squeeze tight, tight, tight. Tries, desperately, heroically, pathetically, not to cum. Jungkook groans, and he feels your fingernails dig into his broad shoulders for stability as your movements become more frantic.
“F-Fuck,” he chokes out. “That feels so good.”
“I bet it does, baby,” you purr, and your angelic voice quells the fire in his core. “Bet your cock has been hungry for female attention, hasn’t it?”
“No.” Jungkook hastily replies, “N-No, just for you.”
He’s so fucking close, precum leaking out of his tip incessantly as each grind gets him closer and closer to his orgasm. Your tits bounce in his face, and he opens his eyes to see the sight that will forever be imprinted in his brain. Probably stored in his spank bank for the rest of time. Your cheeks are ruddy, eyes piercing into his, hair moving wildly, lace panties hugging every curve.
Fuck.
He’s going to cum untouched, like the virgin he is.
Underneath the red lights, your hand finds his, and you guide up, up, up, press his palm flat against your chest. Your eye contact doesn’t waver. “Fuck,” he groans, “fuck, I’m—”
You watch him with a faint smile on your face. Without instruction, his fingers find your nipple, toying with the hardened peak lazily. Rolling them softly, you make a small sound above him and a lightbulb goes off in his brain.
This is good for you too. You like what he’s doing. Holy. Shit.
He continues to massage your nipple as you rut against his thighs, and it’s only a matter of time. He is a virgin, after all.
Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his pants once, twice, before he’s moaning and whimpering as spurts of hot cum fill his boxers. His hand tightens around you on instinct, a sound leaving his throat that he has never made in his life, not once, not like this. He rides out his orgasm, shuddering and cursing under his breath, and your hips slow to ease him through it.
He’s not sure how long he cums for, if he’s ever even cum this hard before. But when it does finally end, he slumps back against the couch like his skeleton has resigned. Staring at his face, your own movements still.
Jungkook doesn’t keep track of time, only cares for the loss of the feeling of your body on his. You stand up, using his thighs for leverage to steady yourself.
Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, your eyes twinkle as you grin at him. “Come and find me when you’re ready, pretty boy.”
Jungkook sounds like a broken record everytime he reminds himself he doesn’t do girls. He’s already convinced himself that his attraction to you is some sort of rebellion against his virginity.
That’s the only explanation as to why he’s standing outside Paradise Adult Club at 7 PM on a Monday holding an extravagant bouquet of red roses.
Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that his Sunday night was spent wallowing in despair, cringing at how fast he came in his pants after you dry humped him for five minutes. No, that piece will live in his brain exclusively. It’s embarrassing to admit how much of an effect you’ve had on him.
He’s never done anything nice for a girl in his life. Never took someone on a date, bought them flowers or jewelry, never held their hand just because he wanted to. He finds that shit cheesy, especially when his dad is yelling at him about some document from ten years ago.
But then again, he can’t say a lot of girls have had the effect on him that you do. You had him throwing his truths and ideologies out the window, disappearing under red lights and red lace and just… he really fucking loves the color red now.
The idea to stop by your place of work was a bold one, he can admit that much. It’s just that your last words to him before you strutted off ‘come and find me when you’re ready, pretty boy’ didn’t leave much room for representation. When he’s ready? Ready for you? Pretty sure he was ready for that the moment you laid eyes on him.
Or, maybe you were referring to being ready to lose his virginity. He’s certain Namjoon has set him up for failure, probably mentioned numerous times everyone thought he was gay. In that case, Jungkook was also more than ready, but only if it was to you. Only if it was to see your tight little pussy swallowing his cock whole, eliciting those same sounds you did a few nights ago.
Fuck, he needs to have you.
“Excuse me? Sir?”
A brunette hostess with a mousy voice jolts him out of his daydream, his cheeks rosy as if he’s been caught sniffing your panties. Her eyebrow is raised in confusion as she eyes the bouquet of roses. Chances are slim to none she’s ever seen those around a dance club before.
“Yes. Hi. I’m looking for—” he stops.
Oh. Jungkook comes to the very hapless realization that he, in fact, does not know your real name. He knows your stage name. Candy called you Angel. That’s what he has. Angel. Which is a stage name, obviously, not a real name, and showing up to a woman’s workplace asking for Angel with a bouquet of roses is somehow worse than what he’s already doing.
“She works here,” he starts.
The hostess blinks. “…several women work here, sir.”
“Right. Yes. She was, uh, she was working Saturday night. She had—” he gestures vaguely at his own chest, “—red. She was wearing red.”
“A lot of women wore red on Saturday too.”
Her patience is wearing thin.
“She had pretty hair.” He’s aware of how this sounds. “And she was—” another vague gesture, this time at his own face, “—she was very. You know.”
The hostess does not know. Her eyebrows are migrating slowly toward her hairline.
“Pretty,” he finishes, lamely. “Very pretty. Like, showstopping pretty.”
“Tall? About this height?” The hostess holds her hand up.
“Yes.”
“Works the private tables?”
“Uh, yeah,” he nods. “And uh, private rooms too.”
Something clicks behind the hostess’s eyes. Her brows lift in a completely different way now, a hint of recognition mixed with amusement.
“[Y/N]?” she asks.
[Y/N.]
He turns the name over in his head. Lets it settle. What a gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl, he thinks.
(It’s his first crush, so he lets himself be as shameless as he needs to be about it.)
“Sure,” he says. “Yes. That one. [Y/N].” Your name. He knows your name now. He likes it more than he has any reasonable right to. “Is she—can I—”
“She’s off today.” The hostess smiles at him, fake sympathy seeping through the gesture. “Sorry.”
Jungkook grips his bouquet of roses until his knuckles are white. “Oh,” he says.
“Yup.”
He looks down at the bouquet. Red roses, obviously, because he’s been colonized by a color. He’d had his assistant order them this morning and had not explained why and the look on her face had been something he’d also be taking to his grave.
“Is there any chance—” he starts.
“I can’t give out personal information, sir. Our dancers lead private lives outside of their place of work.”
Jungkook sighs, weaving his fingers through his hair with his free hand. He can’t blame the hostess for her unwillingness to help, but he can’t let you get away. “No, I know. I wasn’t going to—Could I leave these for her? Is that… is that something that’s allowed?”
The hostess looks at him for a long moment.
Then she sighs, rolling her eyes and beckoning him further into the club. “Follow me.”
Somewhere, there’s a god he’ll be thanking later.
The hostess leads him through a narrow hallway, behind the main floor, past a few closed doors, stopping at one left slightly ajar. When she pushes it open, it’s empty, save for the scattered lingerie and perfume bottles on the floor.
“You can just leave them there,” she says, gesturing at the vanity.
She turns to leave. He hears it distinctly, murmured under her breath as she goes, “Amateur hour.”
Jungkook chooses not to acknowledge that.
He steps inside and sets the roses down on the vanity, straightening them slightly, then immediately feeling insane for straightening them and stopping. Jungkook doesn’t mean to look around, but his ADHD gets the best of him as his eyes wander.
Your setup feels very you, although he’s only been aware of your existence for two days. The vanity mirror is framed with warm bulb lights, surface below it an organized chaos of things he has no reference for—foundation bottles and setting sprays lined up like little soldiers, a tray of eyeshadow with so many colors he can’t identify half of them. There’s trays of lip glosses, shades of red and pink that sent his brain into a tornado of horny thoughts.
And, yeah, that’s enough for today.
He turns to leave, trying to avoid eye contact with any of your other belongings he might find. But on the chair by the door sits a pair of panties.
Black. Lacy. Small enough to fit in one hand.
He stares at them, and they stare back. Every single rational thought he has ever had in thirty years of living lines up in his head and says, collectively and in unison: do not.
His hand moves independently of his brain, reaches out, closes around the fabric, and tucks it into his pocket in one fluid motion. Fuck. He did not plan that. That was not a decision he made, that was a decision his hand made, and he and his hand are going to have a very serious conversation about boundaries later—
He walks quickly, practically jogging. His shoes are loud in the hallway, he just needs to be outside, needs air, needs to be somewhere that isn’t the room where he just stole a woman’s underwear like some kind of pervert.
“Have a good evening, sir!” the hostess calls from the front.
“Yep,” he quickly retorts, not stopping.
The door swings shut behind him and the cool night air hits his face. Luckily, his car is still waiting at the curb. It’s a miracle his driver hasn’t left him for dirt, despite Jungkook telling him to not wait for him. Maybe he also thinks Jungkook is a big, fat loser and knew he would need a backup plan.
Jungkook gets in, stares straight ahead.
“Home, sir?”
“Immediately,” he says. “Please.”
With the knowledge of the black panties sitting pretty in his pocket, his cock puffs up in his pants, poking at his boxers, begging for air. Jungkook suddenly feels sweaty, even with the aircon set to 60 degrees.
By the time Jungkook gets home, he’s a full-on mess. His cock is leaking precum at the tip, dripping into his Calvin Klein boxers. He’s never felt like this before, never been so undeniably hungry for someone that his whole body feels like it’s on the verge of collapse.
Jungkook stumbles into his bedroom, sitting down on his bed and pulling out the pair of panties with shaky hands.
He recognizes this is not a defense, merely an observation—he has never stolen anything in his life. He is a man of principle, of discipline, of self-control that has served him exceptionally well for three decades. He has walked away from bad deals, bad investments, bad decisions, more times than he can count.
He cannot seem to walk away from this.
Jungkook brings them up to his face slowly. Presses the fabric against his face and inhales. The fabric is warm, floral detergent filling his nostrils, and he falls back against his mattress as though his spine has stopped working.
“Okay,” he says to the ceiling. “Okay.”
He is so far gone it’s almost funny.
Almost.
His veiny hands find his waistband. The pants go first, then his boxers shoved halfway down his thighs, and when his cock finally springs free it’s so painfully hard he actually hisses, slapping against his abdomen.
Thirty years old. CEO-in-waiting. Multiple degrees. Fluent in three languages. Lying in his bed with stolen lingerie and the most humbling erection of his life. He rushes to sit up against his headboard, otherwise his skeleton will fail him and he’ll fall straight down on his bed again. His cock is flushed, angry and red, glaring at him. The veins on the side of his length protrude, and he quickly gathers the seed of precum that’s spurted at the top to spread it around his tip. “Fuck,” he groans, head hitting the sturdy wood behind his head.
Jungkook lets saliva fall from his mouth right onto his cock, too desperate to search for lube or lotion. Another quick glide of his hand up and down his length, and he’s painfully hard. Your black panties are strewn to the side of his mattress haphazardly, and he makes eye contact with them for a split second.
He grabs them in his right hand. The lace is soft in his fist, softer than he expected, delicate little scalloped edges. He wraps the pair of panties loosely around his cock, and the sensation of it sends his brain into overdrive. Against him, the lace looks improper, something immoral.
He is a little ashamed of himself.
Unfortunately, he is also completely unable to stop.
He guides his hand up and down his length, at a pace that he normally goes at when he’s just frustrated. His brain supplies images in snapshots—the weight of you in his lap, hips rolling against his crotch. He thinks about your chest, bare in the red light. The small sounds you made when the pace shifted and you stopped being professional about it for a microsecond. He thinks about your hands guiding his, hold on right there, pretty boy.
Your thighs bracketing his, what it would feel like if there was nothing in between them… if you were actually—if he could actually watch you ride his cock, bouncing up and down on it as your tits moved in his face. He would probably press his face into them, so perfectly plump and ready for him.
“God, [Y/N],” he chokes out, to nobody, to the ceiling, to the concept of you existing in the world without his knowledge for however many years before Saturday.
Jungkook jerks himself off faster, twisting his hand at the ase just how he likes it when he wants to cum fast. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks down at the way your black panties are now covered in a mix of his saliva and precum.
He wants to see you covered in his cum, maybe on your perfect tits or those glossy lips, taking every ounce of him that your body can manage. He bets you would take it like a good girl, would do anything just to please him and suck him dry of his money.
It doesn’t take long before his mind is spiraling down a drain and he’s on the brink of his orgasm. It was never going to take long. It bubbles in his core, the knot in his stomach unfurling, and then he’s cumming, with a loud whimper and a “Fuck, fuck. [Y/N],” staining your panties with hot, white ropes of cum. Jungkook doesn’t know how long his orgasm lasts, just that he’s never cum that hard in his entire life, not with the essence of you on your panties lingering so nearby.
For a long time, he sits on his bed, panties still balled in his fist. He sets them down very carefully on his nightstand like they’re evidence. In some sick twisted way, they are. They’re evidence of whatever is happening to him, whatever you cracked open in that private room, whatever he has blindly been waiting thirty years to feel and was not prepared for when it finally arrived.
But Jungkook knows one thing for sure: he can’t go on like this. He has to have you, one way or another.
Sometimes, you really fucking hate your job.
Men over the age of 40, married with two kids, will treat you with such disregard, as though you’re a piece of meat lucky enough to be desired by them. Your boss, Natalie, is a fucking cunt who takes half your earnings some nights, just to assert her dominance. Some nights, it’s so slow that you and the other dancers watch paint dry on the wall in your dressing rooms.
But sometimes, when the stars align and the universe throws you a bone, you really, really love your job.
Those nights are harder to come by. Usually, they start with a man throwing wads of cash at you, or stuffing them into the hem of your panties. They end with a private lap dance in the red room, where you rake in enough cash to pay off ten months of rent in advance.
But in the case of Jeon Jungkook, although your night started and ended the same way with him, you were utterly, completely intrigued by the harmless creature you had made cum in his pants last weekend.
His friends had showered you with cash, but Jungkook sat back in fear, watching you with a hypnotized gaze that never wavered. It was like he was captivated by every movement, hanging on every gyration of your hips. Namjoon didn’t need to tell you he was a virgin. You could smell it on him, something you predicted with just one glance.
And now, that virgin had infiltrated your every thought.
When you stumbled into the club on Tuesday, you saw the fresh bouquet of red roses lying on your vanity, and immediately knew who they were from. Sure, you had other older suitors at the club, some regulars, but none that would bring you flowers or shower you in anything but money. No, this was the gift of a boy, someone who wasn’t quite yet a man.
Quite honestly, you wanted to defile Jeon Jungkook.
So you waited. You waited and you waited, but he didn’t show up all week. By Friday, you were beginning to lose hope of seeing the aforementioned man again. You settled back into your old routine, hoping to get him off your mind with older, more forward men. It’s not like you were having sex with them. It’s a firm line you never wanted to cross, made that clear the first day you started.
It’s also not every day a hot, buff, tatted guy with bunny teeth and puppy-dog eyes walks into your club.
Saturday begins the same way it always does. Saturday nights at Paradise run like a well-oiled machine, and you are one of its most valuable parts.
The private tables are usually packed by 9PM, main stage rotating girls every twenty minutes. Bartenders furiously make drinks for eager men with open wallets, scanning for a dancer they can claim as their own for the night. You move through it with ease, a calming sensation spreading through your limbs. At least for now, this place has become your sanctuary. Or until the number in your head for your mother’s hospital bills finally hits zero.
Candy (also known as Lisa, but no one calls her that anymore) materializes out of nowhere, falling into step beside you. Since the day you joined Paradise, you two have shared a dressing room, secrets, lip gloss, and even underwear. She’s in gold tonight, hair pinned up, already counting a wad of bills from her regular client. Her hand connects with your bare ass, smacking the firm skin hard enough to leave a mark. “Lover boy show his face yet?”
“Haven’t seen him.” You adjust your bra strap without breaking stride. “Don’t think he can handle me, honestly.”
She snorts, “Yeah, no shit. Baby, he came in his pants from a lap dance.” She tucks the bills into her garter. “He cannot handle you. That’s the whole point.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going easy on him. Letting him come to me if he wants.”
Candy stops walking entirely to look at you. “You’ve never gone easy on anyone in your life.”
“I’m feeling charitable.” You try to walk around her, but she holds her arms out.
“We don’t do free shit around here,” she squints her eyes at you, sizing you up. She knows you better than most people do, which is usually a positive, but has now turned into what you hate most about her.
“Listen, the guy’s obviously a virgin.” You roll your eyes. “Not to mention, he’s fucking stacked. Like, loaded loaded. He’s also hot. Need I go on?”
She stares at you for a long moment as though she’s watching a car accident happen in slow motion. Then she opens her mouth to refute.
“CANDY. [Y/N].”
Natalie’s voice bellows across the floor. Your boss is standing by the bar in all black, clipboard tucked under her arm, wearing the expression she reserves for moments when she feels her 40% cut is not being adequately earned. “Floor. Now. Both of you. Please, for the love of God.”
Candy mouths a not-so-subtle we’ll talk later and runs off toward the main stage. You turn back toward the floor, scanning the private tables, already taking mental note of the bachelor party in the far left corner. There’s eight guys, sashes, someone wearing a veil ironically. They’d keep you busy for an hour tops, and everyone knows bachelor parties are where the money is—
Natalie’s hand lands on your shoulder, redirecting you with zero ceremony. “Not that one.”
You turn. “The bachelor party has—”
“Got it covered. I need you at table five.” She steers you firmly. “He’s alone.”
You raise a brow. “He got money?”
Natalie gives you a side eye that could scare kids on Halloween. “Yes, dumbass.”
“How much money?”
“Just enough.” She releases your shoulder and delivers a brisk slap to your ass that you choose not to comment on. “Make me proud.”
Cursing under your breath, you start toward table five, fluffing your hair as you walk, rolling your shoulders back. Chin up, gaze level, lips pouted. Table five is tucked slightly off the main floor, dim even by Paradise standards.
As you approach the booth, you excitedly say, “Hi—”
The word dissolves in your mouth.
Because sitting at table five, in a dark t-shirt that hugs his tattooed biceps, turning a glass of whiskey between his hands nervously, is Jeon Jungkook.
He lifts his eyes to yours. For a second, he has the audacity to look surprised, like he didn’t come here specifically. He blinks at you and his ears go bright pink.
“Well,” you say, recovering first, “Look who found his nerve.”
His eyes rake over your figure, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
You don’t want to let the poor man suffer for too long. Swinging yourself into his lap, your knees straddle his thighs. A sharp inhale escapes him, hands flying up instinctively before freezing mid-air like he’s forgotten whether touching is allowed, ears going from pink to red in one second flat. “Nothing to be shy about, pretty boy,” you murmur.
He lowly whimpers. A soft and involuntary noise, his jaw snapping shut like he can take it back.
“I got your gift,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, tugging him an inch closer to you. His sculpted chest is pressed against your tits, and he doesn’t need to take his shirt off for you to decipher how buff he is.
His eyes go wide. “Y-yeah? Did you like them?”
You tilt your head, lips brushing against his jawline. “How did you know my favorite color was red?”
(It’s not. Your favorite color is green, has been since you were seven years old. But he doesn’t need to know that, and the way his body tenses when you say it is worth every cent of the lie.)
“L-lucky guess,” he stammers, and looks so pleased with himself.
“You’re a smart boy.” You press a chaste kiss to his jaw, then to his neck, and you feel his cock twitch underneath you. He shifts a little, trying to hide it, but you press down further.
His hands hover at your hips, still not quite landing, suspended in that same paralyzed uncertainty from the private room last week.
“You can touch me.”
He doesn’t spare a moment. His hands land directly on your hips, curling into the fabric of your underwear that rides high.
“Tell me why you came back,” you coyly bat your eyelashes. You know exactly why he’s here and what he wants, but you’ll let him tell you. After all, that’s what you instructed him to do. To come and find you when he was certain he was ready. Even though it was unspoken, he had to have known what you meant.
“I–I wanted to, uh, see you,” he swallows thickly, struggling to maintain eye contact.
“Alone?” You tilt your head.
“My friends don’t know I’m here.”
“Ah, so I’m your secret?” you tease.
“N-no!” He leans forward, brunette hair falling into his eyes. God, he’s so fucking cute. “No, you’re not. I just—this is new for me.”
“What is?”
Say it, Jungkook. Say it.
“You… you know what.”
“You know,” you say, leaning in slightly so he can feel your hardened nipples through your bra, “most men who come in here alone aren’t shy about what they want.”
“I’m not shy,” he pouts.
You roll your hips over his half-hard cock, and he exhales. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Jungkook. You are a big, strong man.”
He owlishly blinks at you, trying to understand what mind game you’re playing on him. Not that it matters, since he’s putty in your hands.
“So prove to me that you want me.”
You tip his chin up with two fingers, pulling his gaze back to yours. “Hey,” you say quietly. “Right here.”
Hurriedly, like he’ll lose the words, he says, “I touched myself to you. Like you said.”
“Yeah? Did you cum?”
“I did,” he pauses, mulls over his next words. “I came so hard I almost cried.”
“Wish I could’ve seen that.” You kiss his neck, teeth biting down on his soft skin before soothing it with your tongue. A sweet moan echoes in your ear as you suck on his skin, sure to leave a blooming purple bruise on him. “What did you think about?”
“You… and me.” Your lips travel to a different park of his neck, littering a new section with sloppy hickies. “You…ah, fuck… on top of me, riding me. Making me cum again. I wondered w-what it would feel like if there were no clothes between us.”
Your hands slide from his jaw down his chest, feeling him tense under every inch of movement. “And what did you decide?” you ask. “Would it feel good?”
“I think it would feel like—I think you would ruin me,” he whimpers.
It’s written all over his face, plain and undefended, the way everything is with him, and you think about all the men who have sat where he’s sitting and uttered the complete opposite. Your hands drift lower, finding him at your hips, and you guide them up over your waist, ribcage, until his palms are cupped over your tits, fingers curling around you through the thin fabric of your bra.
He breaks your gaze. Looks down at his tattooed hands cupping your breasts.
“Jungkook,” you say.
He looks back up like a puppy following orders from a trainer.
“Still with me?”
“Yeah,” he exhales, massaging your tits with his massive hands. “Yeah,‘m very—I’m extremely with you.”
You roll your hips forward and watch his eyes flutter. “Good,” you murmur, lips brushing the corner of his jaw, cheek, the soft skin below his ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
“You have?”
“Mhm. Kept thinking about how good you’d feel inside me.” Your thumb traces his lower lip, catching the piercing. His cock is hard against you now, has been since you sat down, and you roll over it slightly, enough to feel him inhale sharply through his nose and grip you. “I want you to cum inside me, fill me up the way I know you want to.”
“O-oh,” he breathes, rutting his hips up to feel more. “I want that too.”
“You’d take it like a good boy, wouldn’t you?” You tug at the piercing, running your fingers over his supple pink lips.
“Y-yes, please. Anything.”
His eyes are glossed over with lust, so much that you doubt he’s hearing a word you say. “I bet my pussy feels so good wrapped around your cock. Bet you’re—”
“How much?”
Huh?
Your brows furrow, and his hands halt all movements on your tits. “What do you mean?”
“H-how much for a private room?”
He eyes you expectantly, chest heaving.
Of all the things you expected him to say in this moment, it was not that. You’re half naked in his lap, you just told him you’d been thinking about him all week, and he’s asking for a price point.
The old version of this interaction writes itself easily. You name the number, take him to the back, take his money, take what you want, and send him home by midnight. Clean cut.
You’ve done it a hundred times.
But then he’s looking at you with those eyes, looking like a kicked puppy. An obscenely wealthy, tattooed, jawline-having kicked puppy who brought you roses on a Tuesday and almost cried when he came.
You genuinely, physically cannot take his money right now.
“I don’t want your money, Jungkook,” you say.
He stares at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I—” he frowns, “—that’s not—you should take it, it’s fine, I have it—”
You shift in his lap, rolling your eyes. “I know you have it.”
“So just let me—”
“I want you,” you shrug. “Not your money. You.”
He goes still underneath you, like he’s running it back trying to find the catch. His brows pull together. “That doesn’t make any sense—”
And before he can question you any further, you kiss him.
You don’t plan it. One second he’s trying to logic his way out of being wanted and the next your hand is at his jaw and your mouth is on his and he makes a strangled sound against your lips. A muffled noise falls from his lips, and you swallow it down. For half a second, he’s frozen, your lips guiding themselves. He clearly has no idea what to do.
And then something gives way in him all at once and he kisses you back clumsily. His lips try to match your speed, and you cup his jaw in your hand to guide him as best you can.
Jungkook lets out a soft moan, fingers digging into your waist so he can tug you closer to him. It feels like your body is melding into his, becoming one. The sound of misogynistic men waving cash around fades into the background, and you forget where you are. Only a mere moment, until you snap back into it. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he licks into your mouth desperately. You open your mouth a bit to let him explore, and his tongue is so soft and warm that butterflies erupt in your stomach unexpectedly.
When he pulls away, his cheeks are red, breath escaping him in puffs. Those doe eyes of his are twinkling under the light, bunny teeth poking out underneath his top lip.
“I—was that, um, okay?”
Oh god. You’re going to ruin this man’s life.
You bashfully giggle. “It was perfect, pretty boy. Are you sure this is your first time?”
Jungkook nods a few times like a broken bobblehead. You chuckle, shaking your head. Your voice lowers an octave. “I want more of you.”
“R-really?” He squeaks.
Rather than answer him with words (which he seems to understand so little of), you peel yourself off his lap, taking his hand in yours and tugging him off the couch. Jungkook stands, brows stitched together in confusion. You’d forgotten how tall he was, how much of him there is.
The floor parts around you as you move through it, the Saturday night chaos swallowing the two of you whole. You catch Natalie’s eye near the bar. She locks eyes with Jungkook and gives you an enthusiastic double thumbs up from behind her clipboard.
She’d lose her mind if she knew you were walking her highest-paying client of the night to the back for free. That’s a problem for later.
You push open the door to the red room. The LED light bleeds warm over everything.
Turning, you push him onto the couch with one hand flat against his chest and he plops into it with a soft exhale, hair falling across his forehead, looking up at you with those eyes. Puppy dog eyes, you think.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about all week?” you say, reaching up to slide one strap off your shoulder. Then the other.
He frantically shakes his head.
“Taking you apart,” you murmur. “Until you don’t remember your own name.”
“That’s—” he swallows thickly, “—that’s fine. Y-yes.”
You reach behind you and unclasp your bra.
For some reason unknown to you, it’s at this moment that you remember what you’re actually doing.
You’re standing in the red room on a Saturday night about to take the virginity of a man, a man who looked at you in a room full of women and somehow only saw you.
His eyes drop to your bare chest, perked nipples on display
The moment of clarity evaporates completely. You don’t feel bad at all.
Sinking to your knees, you crawl over to where he sits. The carpet is soft beneath your knees. You place your hands flat on his thighs and look up at him, plump, pink lips parting, hands gripping the couch cushions on either side of him. You run your hands slowly up his thighs, feeling the muscle jump under your palms, and tilt your head. “Is this okay, pretty boy?”
“Y-yes. It’s okay,” he hurries to respond like you might rid him of this moment.
“Have you ever been titty-fucked before?” you blink up at him, already knowing the answer.
His cheeks turn the color of the lights. His hand comes up to cover his face and he makes a sound into his palm that is equal parts mortified and desperate. “I-no. I never-I don’t even know, like, what that—I don’t—“
“Hands down,” You tug his hands away from his face. “Use your words, pretty boy. It’s just me.”
“No.” He finds his voice, his big brown eyes burning into yours. “I have not.”
You hold his gaze and run your palms up the inside of his thighs. Every coherent thought he has exits his body through his eyes.
“Well,” you say. “Pay attention.”
Your hands find his zipper. The sound it makes in the quiet room ricochets off the walls. His breath goes ragged, stomach caving on an inhale, watching your manicured hands fiddle with his pants. You take your time dragging the denim down his legs until he kicks them off desperately, left in his boxers.
Even through the fabric, you can see the outline of his erect cock. You wonder how long he’s been hard for, if it’s been before you saw him. You press your palm flat against the fabric, rubbing his bulge, and his head drops back with a groan.
“You’re so responsive,” you murmur, more to yourself than him, pressing slightly and watching his hips shift toward the pressure. “You feel everything, don’t you?”
“Y-yeah, I really—” he stops, swallows, “—I really do.”
“That’s so good,” you tell him. “That’s exactly right.”
His fingers find the edge of the couch cushion and grip. You take the waistband of his boxers between your fingers and look up at him one more time, giving him every opportunity to change his mind.
Jungkook’s eyes say please before his mouth does.
“Please,” he whispers anyway, because he has no defenses left. You trace the outline of his cock—and holy fuck, you can’t believe your luck. You’re the first girl to bear witness to his cock, and its massive, hidden underneath a man who’s never felt the warmth of a woman, never wanted to. Through his boxers, you can feel his girth, how thick he is.
Saliva builds up in your mouth. Slowly, you peel down his boxers, dragging them down his legs to the floor.
His cock stands up proud, slapping against his abdomen. For a moment, your heart thumps in your chest at the size of it, how thick and veiny he is. Fucking hell. You haven’t taken a cock this big in years, but damn straight you’re willing to try.
“I-is everything okay?” he asks, eyeing your expression.
You wrap a firm hand around his cock and he jolts forward. Stroking upwards, you feel every ridge, every vein that outlines his length. “It’s perfect, Jungkook. I can’t wait to taste you, for you to be inside me.”
Precum seeps from his glossy, red tip. You jerk him off a few times until he’s thrusting his hips into your hand. He’s beyond eager for anything you’ll give him, you note. Your eyes meet his, and slowly, you let spit dribble onto his cock, giving you enough slick to jerk him off properly. “Agh-fuck,” he moans, biting his bottom lip hard enough to produce blood.
“Feels good?” you ask, smiling.
“Y-yes, don’t stop,” he begs. Flicking your hair behind your shoulder, you hold your tits together, slipping his cock in between your cleavage. He chokes on a breath. “O-okay—okay—” he stammers, hands hovering uselessly on the couch.
The image of his pretty pink tip sitting between your tits sends waves of arousal to your core, flooding your panties. Adrenaline pumps through you, at the thought of taking this man’s virginity. Slowly, tentatively, enough for him to feel it, to understand it, you observe his face the entire time. His head falls back against the couch.
“You’re—fuck—” he cuts himself off, fingers digging into the cushion. You tilt your head, adjusting the pressure, testing what makes him react harder. Gradually, you move your tits up and down, down to his base and back up to his tip. The slick sounds of skin-on-skin echo across the room, mixed with his soft whimpers. His body tightens under your hands, thick thighs flexing, hips starting to thrust into you without thinking. He’s losing control faster than he can handle, faster than he can pause it. “S-shit, [Y/N], I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna cum—“
But you want him to cum. Want him to cum all over your tits, paint your body with it and let himself claim you. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you let the nickname roll off your tongue. “I want you to cum. It’s okay, I won’t be mad.”
“Y-You won’t?” His eyes bug out of his head like you’ve just spoken another language.
You giggle. “No, of course not.”
He shakes his head like he wants to deny it, but it’s useless. “I– I don’t know, I just— it feels—”
The words fall apart in his mouth. You slow down for a moment before leaning in and adding more slick, dragging your breasts over him again. Jungkook's head snaps back, a broken sound ripping out of him as his hands grip the couch harder. “Oh—fuck— I think I—“
Beneath your grasp, his thighs quiver, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he spurts all over your tits, white, hot liquid painting your skin. Some of it lands on your face, which you lick off happily. “O-oh, [Y/N], fuck fuck, I can’t stop—cumming,” he cries as you slow your pace down, laughing to yourself.
You ease back onto your knees, hands resting loosely around him. Jungkook is entirely too beautiful for his own good with his chest heaving, long lashes fluttering.
You’ve had men leave this room strutting. Buttoning their shirts before they’re off the couch, already reassembled, gone. It’s a specific kind of departure that reminds you what this is and what it isn’t.
He takes two shaky pulls of air, then a third. His eyes find yours and stay there. “I—I think you’re amazing.”
Maybe you shouldn’t have volunteered to defile the virgin, because now he’s saying things like this.
You laugh softly,. “Yeah?”
“No, like—” he pushes himself up further on the couch, words tripping over themselves, “you’re so beautiful and you knew exactly—and I didn’t even—I couldn’t—”
He stops himself. Cheeks flooding red, and all you can do is
look at him. “God, you’re cute,” you say.
Obviously, you’ve said the wrong thing because his ears go scarlet and his shoulders cave inwards. “Oh. Thank you”.
Another giggle escapes you, and you hardly recognize yourself. You’re not the girl who giggles during sex with a client, let alone any man. But then again, Jungkook isn’t really your client.
Your fingers wrap around his softened cock, and without doing much, he begins to harden in your hand, puffing up to his full potential again. He owlishly blinks, gulping. “Sorry, I’m just—“
“Don’t apologize,” you interrupt. “How do you want me?” His throat bobs when he swallows, eyes flicking down to where your hand rests on his length, then back up to your face. “I—”
He exhales shakily. “I don’t know.”
You hum, not letting him off that easy. Your thumb brushes over his tip, gathering the precum that’s begun to form and his hips twitch up.
Your mouth curves into a sinister smirk.“That’s not true.”
Jungkook lets a small, frustrated sound slip from his lips.“I just—” He breaks off again, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to say it.”
Leaning in a little closer, he has no choice but to feel how little space you’re giving him to hide in. “Use your words, pretty boy,” you murmur, “You’ve been doing so good.”
He sucks in a breath, “I want… I want your mouth on my cock. I want you to suck me off.”
Immediately, he turns bright red and you can’t help the delighted laugh that wracks through you. “Kookie,” you say, shaking your head a little, “I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth.”
He chuckles at that, reaching down to place his hand over yours, guiding your slow strokes. Your heart leaps into your throat at the innocent touch, betraying you entirely.
With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and kitten lick his tip, and then drag it down his shaft. His mouth drops open on a silent moan, chest heaving. When you reach the bottom, you lick back up, following the path of a vein, before engulfing him fully in your mouth. He’s bigger than you expected, and your jaw aches at how much you have to open up to fit him in. Your tongue swirls around his tip, and he jolts forward, instinctively pulling your hair and entangling his tattooed fingers in it.
“K-keep going.” He bucks his hips up, the tip of your nose hitting his pubic bone. You can hardly hold back your gags, choking sounds escaping from your mouth, tears seeping through your lashes as you take him to the hilt. “Feels s-so good, angel. You’re so p-pretty.”
Your lips pop off his cock as you gasp for air, jerking him off in the meantime. “Yeah? You like how I look with your cock in my mouth, baby?”
He nods eagerly. “Yes, please.” Jungkook pushes your head down, and then blushes as though he just caught himself sticking his hand in a candy jar. It’s not as if you mind—his cock is addicting, his precum so sweet and warm. You lower your head, swirling your tongue around his tip just so you can hear his pretty little moans again.
You move at a steady pace, your hand working anything your mouth can’t take. His fingers dig into your scalp, almost guiding you. You don’t want to stop, never do, not until you ruin him. Not until you’ve had every ounce of him. His cock twitches in your mouth, and his thighs shake. It’s hard to hide the smile that’s curving upon your lips. After suctioning your lips around his tip a few more times, he drags your head up, practically ripping you off his body.
Your stomach leaps into your throat, and the unfamiliar swell of anxiety bubbles inside you. Men don’t ever push you off, and you’d be lying if you said your ego isn’t taking a hit.
“What do you want, pretty boy?” you ask sweetly.
“I liked it when you c-choked on it.” His cheeks turn a scarlet glow, brunette hair sticking to his golden skin. “You look pretty.”
“Want me to deepthroat your cock?” You grin, kitten licking his tip. Jungkook whimpers, and you take that as your answer. With no further instruction, you deeply inhale through your nose and take him to the hilt again, your throat full of him. Your air flow is entirely restricted, and Jungkook—the innocent virgin—pushes your head down, as if there were anywhere further to go. The feeling of being lightheaded doesn’t even scare you, just turns you on from how utterly desperate he is for you. “Shit, you’re so good at this,” he whines. “Don’t wanna cum yet. I wanna cum inside you, baby.”
You hum around him, and your mouth pops off his cock, saliva connecting his tip to your lips. “Are you sure, Kookie?”
You’re certain the poor boy has never been more ready for anything in his entire life. “Yes, please, please fuck me.” He begs between breathless groans, and you have to hide your own whimper from how fucked out he sounds.
Now, you’ve done a lot of things in the red room. Bondage, roleplay, orgasm denial… but taking someone’s virginity? And that of a man who actually might be worth your time? Can’t say you’ve done that before. It excites you, and for a moment, you have to wonder if it’s because of the situation, or because of the man sitting in front of you.
Standing up, you steady yourself despite the ache in your knees. You unhurriedly peel off your underwear, your arousal sticking to your thighs as you kick them off. Jungkook’s eyes follow your legs up, up, until he stares at your pussy with a tiny gasp. You straddle his thighs, using his shoulders as leverage. Your soaking core hovers above his erect cock, and he looks down to see just how close you actually are. “Are you sure, pretty boy?” you ask again, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Please.” His eyes snap to yours, and the sincerity behind it sends electricity through your veins. You take his fingers, placing them in your mouth before sucking on them and bringing them to your clit so he can feel how aroused you are for him. So ready and pliant above him. “O-oh, you’re really wet.”
“I am, Kookie,” you giggle. “You made me like this.” You guide his movements, little circles on your clit. Foreplay isn’t even necessary—you’re not sure you’ve ever been wetter.
You align his length to your hole, and sinking down on him, inch by inch, you can feel every ridge and vein decorating his cock. You're deliciously full, until you’re filled to the brim, stuffed with his cock. You’d had a rough idea of what to expect. You’d done this a hundred times in this room. You thought you knew how this part went. But you were not prepared for Jungkook.
The stretch of him is slow and overwhelming and your walls have to work to accommodate his size. You hear yourself exhale, an involuntary release of air. His face finds your neck immediately and he groans. “O-oh my god,” he croons in your neck, muffled against your sweaty skin. “Is this what pussy f-feels like?”
You can hardly think long enough to form a response, and then he starts to move. Careful rolls of his hips, driving his cock up into you, checking every flicker of your expression for anything that looks like discomfort. It’s so like him. Completely, specifically him, that something in your throat tightens.
What he finds instead is your eyes, telling him everything. He continues fucking upwards, and a borderline scream escapes you from how quickly he finds that sweet spot inside you. His fingers flex at your hips. He gasps and then he’s babbling, words tumbling out unfiltered the way everything does with him. “Your pussy feels so good. So tight and warm,” he speaks into your neck, inhaling your scent like he’s a wolf. “It’s so wet, [Y/N], so fucking wet.”
You need to get it together. You need to find the part of yourself that knows what she’s doing in this room, that has always known, that has never once lost the upper hand. Your hands come to rest on his thighs behind you, and you lift yourself up his cock, only to slam yourself back down. Each time you take him fully, your breath punches out in a grunt you can’t swallow back, your knees working against the cushions as you ride him. Your nails dig into his thighs, red, crescent moons forming. The sound of skin slapping and your wet cunt swallowing his cock fills the room. “Fuck, you feel so good, Jungkook. You’re so big, so deep inside me.”
“Yeah? You like how I feel inside you?’ His hands cup your ass, helping your movements. Despite it being his first time, Jungkook moves like he knows you.
Muscle memory takes over, and you grab a fistful of his hair and drag him towards you. You kiss him.
Sloppy and breathless and without technique, lips catching and sliding, both of you too far gone to be graceful about it. He makes a broken sound into your mouth, hips stuttering.
“Want to make you my fucktoy. Would you like that, pretty boy?”
He nods excitedly, eyes squeezed tight as you milk his cock with every bounce. Although you should be focused on making him cum, all of that flies out the window as the familiar coil in your stomach begs to come undone. Your walls flutter around his cock and his eyes open, looking to where your bodies join to try and decipher the sensation. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.
“Really?” he asks, wide-eyed with wonder. “Shit–keep going, baby. You’re gonna make me cum too, I won’t be able to last l-long.”
You switch to a back-and-forth motion, your clit hitting his pelvic bone, enough to make your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you. Jungkook grips your hips tight as you whimper, falling forward and wrapping your arms around his neck for stability. He takes the opportunity to thrust up into you again desperately, chasing his own release. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines. “So fucking addicting. I want to be inside you forever.” The sound of those words tumbling from his lips, tone so easy, has something inside of you clenching.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum again,” he hisses, hips faltering as he coats your walls with his cum, and the warmth of him fills you up. Wrapping his arms around you entirely, you feel Jungkook press chaste kisses to your neck, jaw, and cheek, bringing you back down to earth.
When you two finally catch your breath, you rest there, with his cock softening inside you and your nails tracing patterns down his back. Your legs remain glued to his thighs, like the rest of the club doesn’t exist, like Natalie and her clipboard and the Saturday night chaos on the other side of the door are happening on a different planet. It feels like just you two in the whole building.
14 months ago, your last relationship ended abruptly. In the parking lot of a grocery store, which is such an unglamorous setting for the end of two years that you’ve never quite been able to shake it. He was handsome, aware of it, rationing it, using it for his benefit. He never brought you flowers. Not once, not for birthdays or apologies or just because. Flowers were a waste of money in his opinion, and not to be spent on ‘cheap girls’ like you.
You look at Jungkook’s profile. The soft line of his jaw in the red light, the flutter of his long lashes.
There are red roses on your vanity that he left without being asked.
“Did I… did I do okay?”
You pull back to peer at him, and his eyes are sparkling, an earnest expression taut on his face. You recognize what he needs to hear. “Yes, Jungkook,” you say, combing your fingers through his hair. “You did very good.”
The relief that moves across his face is immediate. “Okay,” he nods. “That’s good.”
He ducks his head. “How do I—how do I pay you?”
The ripple of his question moves through you. You need the money more than anyone in this room. You have a number in your head that lives there rent free, that wakes you up at 3 AM sometimes, that is the entire reason you’re here in the first place.
You open your mouth to name a figure, but instead, “It’s fine,” you hear yourself say. “You don’t have to.”
He pouts. “But I want to. You should let me.”
“It’s fine,” you repeat.
“Not even a tip?” he tries again, and you have to commend his effort.
“No.”
And with a calm confidence that was not there an hour ago, “My number then,” he says. “Can I have yours? Would that work?”
You laugh, dropping your face into the curve of his neck, and feel him go warm underneath you. “You have some nerve, Jungkook.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Huh?” Maybe he wasn’t expecting your compliance, but you give it anyway. You’ll give yourself this one.
“Yeah, Jungkook.” It’s probably a bad idea. Or maybe it’s the best one you’ll ever have. “You can have my number.”
The next night, when you open your phone, you read a text from Jeon Jungkook that says: i know you said no tips, but think of this as a gift. open your door.
Outside your door sits a bouquet of red roses, with piles and piles of cash sitting beside it. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that.
On the flowers is a note, something even cuter than his text, that reads: give me one more night? - your pretty boy
can you do jungkook smut headcanons plzplzplzplzplzplzpzlzpzlzpzlzpzlzplz
─── jungkook with different positions! ﹒✿
contains ﹒⪩ smut obviously mdni!
He’s a switch with a filthy imagination and insane stamina, so his preferences change depending on his mood…
Missionary (but make it intense) : Jungkook loves classic missionary because he can watch your face the entire time. He’ll pin your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your thigh to fold you in half. Eye contact is non-negotiable. He wants to see every moan, every tear of pleasure, and he’ll lean down to growl against your lips, “Look at me while I fuck you.”
Doggy Style / Prone Bone : When he’s feeling possessive or just wants to go hard, he puts you on all fours (or flat on your stomach). He loves gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks, slapping your ass, and pulling your hair so your back arches perfectly. Prone bone is his go-to when he wants to feel completely on top of you, chest pressed to your back, whispering dirty praises in your ear while he fucks you deep and slow… until it turns brutal of course.
Cowgirl / Reverse Cowgirl : He’s obsessed with you riding him. Jungkook will lean back against the headboard, hands behind his head at first, biting his lip while he watches you bounce. But he can’t stay passive for long— he ends up gripping your waist, guiding you, then thrusting up to meet you so hard the bed creaks. Reverse cowgirl lets him watch your ass and spank it while you ride him.
Standing / Against the wall : Post-concert adrenaline? Shower sex? He loves picking you up like you weigh nothing, pressing your back against the wall or mirror, your legs wrapped around his waist. The way his muscles flex while he holds you up and fucks you senseless is one of his favorite sights. Bonus points if there’s a mirror so he can watch both of you.
Spooning / Lazy sex position : For those soft, late-night or early-morning sessions when he’s tired but still needy. He’ll pull you back against his chest, one arm wrapped around you, the other between your legs, slowly grinding into you while kissing your neck and shoulder. It feels intimate and filthy at the same time.
69 : He loves mutual pleasure. Jungkook gets cocky when he’s eating you out while you’re trying (and failing) to focus on sucking him off. He’ll tease you relentlessly, humming against you just to feel you moan around him. The competition to make the other cum first is very real.
Lotus / Face-to-face sitting : When he’s in his soft dom / boyfriend mood and wants deep connection. You in his lap, both of you sitting up, arms wrapped around each other, slow deep rolls of his hips while he kisses you like he’s starving. Lots of eye contact, foreheads pressed together, and breathy “I love you”s mixed with curses.
Seated / Chair Sex : He pulls you into his lap on a chair, facing him or away. Facing him means he can suck on your tits and watch your expressions up close while you grind on him. Facing away lets him wrap one arm around your waist and use the other to rub your clit. Bonus if it’s his gaming chair after a long streaming session— he’ll still be wearing his headset half the time.
Mating Press : The ultimate “I’m not letting you go anywhere” position. He folds you in half, knees pushed up to your chest, and fucks you so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes get dark and possessive in this one, he’ll kiss you messily, bite your lip, and groan things like “Take it all, baby… gonna breed you so good.”
Over the Edge : Jungkook loves bending you over the bed, couch, or kitchen counter so your upper body is pressed down while your feet stay on the floor. The angle is perfect for hitting that deep spot that makes your legs shake. He’ll grip your waist with both hands and pound into you relentlessly, or slow it down to tease, watching how your back arches for him.
𓄹ㅤ𐚁Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (professional chef!) x Hazel (OC) Interior designer
𓄹ㅤ𐚁Genre: Slow-Burn Romance / pregnancy au / Domestic Fiction / Hurt-Comfort / Medical Drama
𓄹ㅤ𐚁Explicit Content: Later chapters will contain mature, descriptive, and sexy romantic scenes once the characters unite.
𓄹ㅤ𐚁 Synopsis : Hazel’s home, once beautiful, now feels like a cage of grief after her husband’s death—made heavier by a fragile, high-risk pregnancy. To survive, she hires Jeon Jungkook, a cold, precision-driven chef tasked with managing every meal for her and the growing baby inside her. Their agreement is simple: no emotions, no boundaries crossed—just care and control. But in the quiet house, where knives echo and spices linger, distance begins to blur. His discipline falters as he notices too much; her broken heart begins to lean on his silent care. Between strict diets and stolen glances, tension builds—soft, dangerous, and impossible to ignore. Because somewhere between keeping her alive… and protecting the life within her, they begin to break every rule they ever set.
𓄹ㅤ𐚁Status: ongoing (fast updates)
𓄹ㅤ𐚁Word Count Goal: ?? But a very long journey 20k?30k? Idek😭
BREAD AND BREATH MOOD BOARD / CHARACTER AESTHETICS
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
dailybridgerton
