Hiya! I wanted to say that ur Delectable Lessons is a really good read! Absolutely love the quality of writing and the description, the sensuality of the atmosphere and also the way u wrote Jimin makes me want to squeal since u made him a beautiful and hot character, GAH! I was wondering, since I'm new to ur blog, if u had a link to ur master list as I would love to read more of ur writing. :D thanks for reading and sorry to be a bother.
Hello hello!
Beautiful and hot? I’m glad I got his portrayal down to the tee ;) (and don’t worry i’m with you on the squealing)
I actually haven’t made a masterlist…I know..i’m a failure!!! LOL I haven’t gotten around to making one and was hoping to release a bit more projects before releasing an official one. I’m currently working on two potentials that I’ve been itching to release so crossing my fingers I’ll have one to post soon!
But here is a link to ‘Alluring Tune’ while I just casually dip my toes in and get back to the swing of things (:
YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD I CANT!!! I’m so excited for what’s to come!! I love the way you write with so much detail and elegance, it makes me feel like I’m reading a world class smut... haha. thank you for your hard work!!
thank you so much love! really means a lot <3
hoping to start working on the many projects i have written down so please continue to look forward to them (:
OOF OKAY IM DEAD WOW AT BOTH FICS JDJDJDJ Not to pressure you on writing but do you have any idea about what member you'll be writing for next by any chance?
LOOL!! YASS!! Thank you (:
I’m actually not sure. Kinda stuck between Jungkook or V xD Is there a preference?
DLECTABLE LESSON GOT ME SO GOOD. THAT JIMIN IS SUCH A HOT TURN ON. ARE YOU LIKE SOME SMUT GOD OR SOMETHING?! CUZ FK THAT GOT ME SO TURNED ON (ye no shame and dunt care)
LOOL! Me?! A smut god?! Woah that is too much of a compliment (lowkey squealing though).
And gotta love the honesty anon <3 I hope I helped you get your sinful fix for the day. Now here is to hoping that the rest to come elicits that same reaction ;)
Pairing: jimin x reader
Genre: 99.9% smut aka a lot of smut
Warnings: mature content
Word Count: 8K
You revel in the sensation of the soft muscle brushing against yours, one hand curling around the nape of his neck to decrease the very little distance that remains. But the act does nothing to soothe the seething wildfire under your skin, your mind too engrossed in the languid press and release of lips, the occasional nip of your bottom lip, and the torturous flitting touch fueling your high.
Lips sealing yours in a feverish haze, he continues his enticing service, his lips working to monopolize your every waking moment. And it takes the littlest ounce of effort on his end to have you lost in the motion. There is just something about the way he licks into your mouth that has sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and god is it addicting.
He’s notorious for being the epitome of perfection, the very embodiment of what males aspire to be and what most, if not all females want in a partner; smart, great looks and god like proportions. And while to the public he is seen as an angel free of flaws, he was no more than a wolf in a sheep’s cloak, relentless in his truest form, and you the victim to his ruthless teasing.
A master in the arts of charm and sweet talk, you fall for honeyed words that conceal the wry grin behind his innocent façade. While cloaked in his virtuous disguise, words of endearment mask hidden meanings, his false front only then unravelling with whispers of enticement. Actions mimicking that of a predator watching its prey, he awaits for his window of opportunity to go on the offense. And you never seem to fail to walk right into the palm of his hand, today being no exception.
“Baby,” he breathes, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear.
Instant regret washes over you when the title of sentiment leaves his lips, all too knowing that this was the calm before the storm. And much like your previous endeavours, his actions following suit serves as your affirmation, your thoughts beginning to steer off course. With papers, books and the like strewn across the table, your body tenses when his hand finds your inner thigh, fingers tracing its length all the while dangerously making its ascent to the growing ache between your legs.
Pen in hand, your grip tightens when he finds the growing wet patch, cheeks immediately heating with embarrassment. Flesh tinging a pink hue, you clench your thighs together, attempting to suppress the flourishing heat behind the thin fabric and more importantly, to save whatever remained of your pride. However, all efforts go to waste when he spreads your legs further apart, your position working in his favour and to your disadvantage.
“You know the rules,” he growls.
Rules. The word hangs in the air at the brief recollection of the terms he was more than happy to share prior to the study session, one of which requires that you be seated on his lap. And despite your initial suspicions and the gruesome gut feeling of a hidden agenda, you give it no second thought upon the realization that anything less than an 85% on the test would be futile. Yet, at the pace and direction the lesson is going, studying would be an accomplishment in and that of itself.
“What’s the answer?”
His voice rings audibly in your ears and you have yet to make out the black texts displayed in front of you, the occasional grazing of his soft, plump lips steering your thoughts astray. Mind in chaos, your imagination begins to run its course, the vivid memories of naked, sweat covered bodies rubbing against each other augmenting the throbbing sensation between your legs.
Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you bite down harder, the pain a much needed diversion from the heat working its way through your system. And with the momentary distraction, you regain the slightest bit of concentration, only then to have a single stroke shatter your efforts as a repressed moan escapes. The all too famous cocky smirk makes its appearance on his oh so tempting lips, his fingers continuing their delicious assault at your core and your body convulsing from the long, treacherous motions.
“If you don’t answer correctly, you’re not giving me much of a choice.”
What those words entail has your heart beating frantically in anticipation, the mere thought of the punishment in store amplifying the flames of your need. Lowering his mouth to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, he begins to work the flesh between his lips, until there is nothing but his masterpiece left to show. And in sweet conjuncture of the delectable sensation of his lips, he pushes your underwear to the side, the pads of his fingers making contact with your damp folds.
“Answer the next question.”
Any coherent thought is virtually non-existent, mind drawing a blank as the pleasurable rush shoots through you, occupying your every waking moment. Tongue glossing over your bottom lip, your eyes flutter shut as you immerse yourself with the breathtaking work of his hand.
“Baby…you need to concentrate.”
He continues his ever so languid movements, your fingers and toes curling as you try to remain still. Yet the delicate, slow and practiced strokes threaten your peace, his fingers teasing and coaxing each gasp and moan from partially parted lips.
“W-wait. Jimin…”
“If you want me to stop, you have to answer correctly.”
You lean forward, head almost in contact with the sheets sprawled in front of you, tongue slowly tracing over your bottom lip.
“You aren’t answering incorrectly on purpose are you?”
The words come out in a drawl, his lips curling into a lop sided smile as he watches you tremble under his divine touch. A touch so lethal that even the slightest brush has your skin burning like a thousand fires. Heart thudding against your ribcage, you try to attend to the inner voice screaming for you to focus, but your mind drifts off into the clouds as you lose yourself in the fleeting feather light touches running overtop your feverish skin.
“If you feel too much pleasure, you won’t want me to stop."
A sigh of pleasure, almost a whimper, escapes your lips, your inner goddess roused by the first contact of his fingers on your sensitive nub. Mind too preoccupied with the way his fingers find an easy rhythm, engrossed by the movements of his two digits gliding up and down the wetness already gathered, you feel the suspense rise to a dangerous high, each painstakingly delicious stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Stomach churning in anticipation, you release a shaky breath, awaiting and expecting the penetration of his fingers when a sudden wave of rejection washes over you from the unforeseen withdrawal.
Your heart sinks in disappointment, the denial of your release only proving to be another challenge as the throbbing and pulsating sensation between your legs intensifies. You begin stirring on his lap, grinding your ass against him to elicit even the slightest sexual drive, only then to feel swift hands on either side of your waist, grip tight as he ceases all movements, both yours and his.
"Baby, concentrate.”
“I can't…not when you touch me like that.”
You answer him seriously but soon come to the realization of how light he makes of the situation when a repressed laugh leaves his lips. Attempting to get off his lap, he splays a hand across your stomach to keep you rooted place, and you grumble inaudible words as you feel his body lightly shake, chuckling at your bold confession. Immediately dismissing the impending shame, you barely give your feelings of embarrassment a second thought as you sit convinced that he truly was a devil in disguise.
“Then how about we change the rules. How about a strip game?”
He gives your collarbone a gentle nip before pulling back, and you don’t need to turn back to see the suggestive smile plastered across his lips.
“A strip game?” you repeat skeptically.
“For every question you get right, I’ll remove a piece of clothing.”
“And if I get one wrong?”
“You will remove a piece of clothing…of my choice.”
You turn to face him, the look of doubt apparent.
“Why don’t I get to choose what you get to take off?”
“Baby, you’ll be naked before I have anything off.”
“I’ll have you in your boxers before my shirt and skirt are off,” you challenge.
He moves his hand from your hips to curve across your jaw, his fingers delicately lining the surface, and you can’t help the breathy sigh, the remnants of his touch fiery.
“And if you don’t?” he whispers, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.
“I’ll let you do what you want.”
Your offer piques his interest, the familiar smirk painting over his lips exuding confidence all the while radiating the sweet, feint scent of danger.
“Anything I want?”
Before you have the chance to conclude that yes, this decision is completely and utterly stupid and that yes, you should have just kept your mouth shut instead of provoking him, he urges for you to stand up, hands ghosting over your sides as he leans down, lips leveling with your ears.
“Don’t regret those words.”
The way the words roll from his tongue prompts you to respond, but you find yourself unable to, the words lodged in your throat leaving you speechless. Internally screaming and mentally cursing yourself for practically handing him a ‘do whatever you want’ card on a silver platter, you try to remain calm amidst the exhilaration and panic sweeping through you, heart beating erratically from both the fear and thrill of what was yet to come. But it’s too late. Images of you bent over the desk with hands held closely behind your back, bound together by a leather belt flashes through your conscious mind, thoughts in chaos at the illustration.
“You have an hour to complete the practice exam.“
His words bring you back into existence, the fantasy short-lived as the thought is forcefully pushed to the back of your mind.
"And as tempted as you are to answer wrong on purpose… don’t.”
You roll your eyes at the comment, returning the smug grin with a mocking smile, trying to mask the uneasy, eerie feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach. And as you stand, seemingly confident yet uncertain, he gestures for you to take a seat, to which you are more than willing to comply, half a mind already diving into the complex world of economics while the other half dwells and longs for his touch.
Focus.
Averting your gaze to the booklet in front of you, your eye shifts to the flock of jet black in your periphery, easily drawing your attention away. A tad bit stunned and breathless at the sheer sight of confident strides making their way to the bed, each step bold, oozing sexy, and emanating the aromatic scent of a self-made man who is ready to ravish you any way he pleases, your vision becomes hazy at the memoir of his perfect sculpture flesh against yours.
“I’m looking forward to the strip show,” he grins.
Your heart is ready to leap out of your chest, the occasional brow raise coupled with subdued hums, which you make out to be disapproving ones, has you breaking out in cold sweat. Breathing at a halt with the turn of another page, you watch as furrowed brows mar his flawless complexion, no longer able to call upon the confidence you had just moments before. Unwelcome self-doubt begins to consume you with the flip of the last page, and all thoughts of him being at your mercy gone as his face contorts in discontent.
“W-what?” you stutter, expecting for a snide comment only to get nothing.
You send a questioning look his way, but he is as silent as he had been the entire hour you spent working on the booklet.
“Jimin?”
Wordlessly, he turns the chair around and you can’t help the lump in your throat, uncertainty washing over you as you watch him take a seat as if he’s ready for the show to start.
Back leaning against the backrest with legs moderately spread apart, he crosses his arms over his chest which does a generous amount of justice to his chiseled pecs, the sight of tense meat rippling beneath the cloth mouth-watering. And you have half a mind to rip it off yourself, but only entertain the idea for a split second, recalling how his muscles work under his skin when he removes it himself, every inch defined and appetizingly taut.
You stare in awe, the memorization kicking in as you allow yourself secret glances. How could he, clad in only light washed jeans and a plain white tee, raised just high enough to showcase his perfect abdominal v, look so irresistibly tempting? But he does, seemingly effortless and without fail. And you may or may not be guilty of letting your eyes freely run down the length of his torso, a fleeting sharp inhale ensuing at the sight of his oh so happy trail disappearing beneath the fabric.
Time momentarily at a standstill and bodies briefly frozen in place, you feel the intensifying magnitude of the breathy sighs that saturates the confines of his room, turned on simply at the view of his teeth working at his lower lip in thought. Eyes locking with the pair returning your stare, you capture every nuance of his expression, even the sheer flicker of hunger and the subtle twitch of his lips that try to suppress the urging smile.
"Take it off.”
You take notice of his tone, the sound a dangerous combination of dominance and trouble, which only serves to further amplify the looming hunger brewing in the pit of your stomach. Mind at an impasse, you begin calculating and mulling over your choices, well aware that you are at a disadvantage as unvoiced protests competing against erotic thoughts blur all logic and reason. And if his words were capable of rendering you helpless, the pair of heated eyes glazing the length of your body would be the source of your undoing, his gaze entrapping you in what seems to be a hypnotic trance.
“Shirt. Off. Now,” he commands.
Although brief, you pick up on the desire flashing across his eyes, merely milliseconds passing before he masks it with a sensuous smile, the curves painting his face removing the veil of secrecy.
The beast is finally unleashed…and he looks hungry.
Hands at your sides, you begin to play with the hem of your shirt, raising it ever so slightly, just enough for him to take a peek at the flesh beneath. His eyes expectant and narrowing at the exposure, you continue to lift the fabric at a turtle like pace, dragging out every second and using his hunger to your leverage. He lets out an impatient growl, cuing you that you are taking too sweet of a time, and it only makes you want to prolong and savor the moment of denying him of what he wants.
The eagerness within the pair of mesmerizing brown pearls has your skin burning ablaze, and for a fraction of a second you consider allowing him to rip your clothes off, the cocktail of emotions rushing through you obscuring all rationale. But you see it. The growing boner which betrays the calm, aloof expression he is sporting. And it fuels your resolve.
“Remove your shirt first.”
Carding his fingers through silk black strands, he lets out an exasperated sigh as he grows more and more restless.
“Babe-”
“Shirt. Off. Now,” you cut off, repeating the same words he uttered not even minutes ago.
He arches a brow, and you respond to the bemuse look with the release of your shirt, allowing it to fall back in place. If it’s a game he wants, a game he will get. And you have every intention of being the victor.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you continue to challenge his patience, pushing every boundary known to man. Riding the waves of the overwhelming rush of confidence, you watch each minute pass, becoming increasingly convinced with each flying second that he’ll cave in. Especially so at the sight of the declarative twitching of his hand, a habit you’ve come to know to be his way of suppressing an impulse. He’s itching to remove your clothes and the thought makes you shudder in anticipation.
“Well?” you urge him to answer.
And it takes him, only what seems to be an eternity to respond, finally breaking the silence that fills the void of the overtly sexually tense room.
“Fine,” he says, and your eyes sparkle for the briefest of moments, the glitter vanishing just as quickly as they formed.
“If I get to remove your clothes,” he adds.
And just like that the tables turn in his favor.
Wordlessly he gets up, and you take notice of the look in his eyes. Something dangerous flickers and your heart is beating frantically as he approaches you with dark hues. You try to hide the panic flashing across your eyes but he picks up on it, his lips already curling into a cocky smirk.
“I’m done playing games. I want you. Now.”
The once angel like face is gone, replaced by a fierce look of a predator locking onto his prey. A look so animalistic and thrillingly attractive that you feel your stomach churning in promise, suspense beginning to build in pure anticipation for what this night will bring. Adrenaline works its way through your system, your heart throbbing achingly for the man making his way towards you. Gaze zeroing in onto his ravening ones, each second seemingly extended with every step taken, you watch him make confident strides as he works to close the distance.
Teasingly provocative, he continues his walk, only choosing to stop when in front of you. And you almost let out a whine, hands apt to reach for him to bring him flesh against you when he deprives you of the contact your body is yearning for. But he immediately makes up for it, lifting his tee over his head, and dear god, you can’t help but marvel at the mouth-watering sculpture displayed before you. He truly is a sight to behold.
While he stands opposite of you in all his glory, you feel a compelling urge to touch him, the compulsion too strong for you to resist. Entirely consumed by the feverous haze, your body begins to move at its own will, like some unseeable force pulling you towards him. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, the distance shortens, all movements ceasing when your palm presses flat against his chest. The immediate contact makes you internally wince from the scorching heat, his skin hot to the touch. Fuck he’s burning.
There is no hiding the interest in your eyes, and you know he shares the same sentiment when you feel the uncontrollable beating of his heart, the sound beating in unison with yours. Eyes mirroring the look from the pair of brown irises staring down at you, you absentmindedly begin to trace over the definition of taut muscles, only then taking notice of his hands when you feel them working the hem of your shirt.
“Your turn.”
With quick haste, he has your shirt over your head, the piece of clothing discarded somewhere you didn’t care to ponder or follow where, completely invested in the moment. He then pulls back to peer down at you, and what he sees leaves him a tad bit breathless. You stand there, chest heaving as you try to regain control over your breathing, your eyes mimicking the look in his eyes.
Your body stills under the scrutiny of his gaze, view fixated on the tongue that traces over his luscious bottom lip. And you can’t help but glaze over yours, mindlessly imitating his actions as you watch the very lips tempting you curl up into a knowing smile at the sight of your lust filled eyes.
“Prepare yourself,” he says, words barely audible. “I don’t plan on holding back.”
Before you have the chance to process his words, Jimin’s mouth is on yours, kissing you like he’s been deprived of oxygen for far too long and you’re the only source of air. Indulging in the sweet savory taste, mouth molding against his in almost perfect precision, you feel hungry hands tracing across your back, skimming over your hips and thighs to grab a lawless amount of your ass. A moan escapes your lips, and Jimin wastes no time in taking advantage of your opened lips, slipping in his tongue with ease.
You revel in the sensation of the soft muscle brushing against yours, one hand curling around the nape of his neck to decrease the very little distance that remains. But the act does nothing to soothe the seething wildfire under your skin, your mind too engrossed in the languid press and release of lips, the occasional nip of your bottom lip, and the torturous flitting touch fueling your high.
Lips sealing yours in a feverish haze, he continues his enticing service, his lips working to monopolize your every waking moment. And it takes the littlest ounce of effort on his end to have you lost in the motion. There is just something about the way he licks into your mouth that has sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and god is it addicting.
Time passes slowly, seconds prolonged and seemingly exclusive as you lose yourselves in one another. You guide him, leisurely drawing him lower, and he willingly follows, allowing you to take the lead. Mouth scalding on his, you ghost fingertips along his shoulder blades, beginning your exploration of the vast expanse of his back. Touch light and teasingly so, you trace overtop the skin with the pads of your fingers, outlining the angry muscles beneath it. And it only takes him a mere two seconds to feel your nails scraping the surface, the sound he releases nothing short of a groan.
“Baby-”
You take a nip at his lower lip, pulling the flesh back until he is growling against your mouth and shit, the vibration easily sends a pulse to your core.
“Pants,” you demand.
But before he can utter a single word, your impatient hands begin to travel the length of his torso, fingers finding the light washed material you want nothing more than to take off. And you know very well he agrees as his impending erection hiding beneath it grows.
Lining the width of the fabric, you follow the waistband, inching closer towards his happy trail until the pads of your fingers make contact with the refreshing cool surface of metal against your blazing skin. Not even a second later, your hands nimbly undo his button while he works the zipper of your skirt, the pieces of clothing freely dropping onto the ground, pooling around your ankles and discarded much like the lesson that is supposed to be taught. But you give it no second thought, the vivid recollection of him making love to you leaving you in despair and desperate for something more than coasting touches.
And you know he shares the same disposition when he peers down at you, returning the small smile splayed over your lips with eyes hooded and raw with desire, longing and what seems to be a bottomless pit of hunger, a look entirely exclusive to you that no one is aware of its existence. Or rather, that he is capable of such an expression. But he is, the goody too shoes he guises to the public nowhere in sight.
He kicks off his pants and prompts you to curl your arms around his neck, and you do while his hands are dead set on a journey down your thighs. Upon reaching his destination, he lifts you with ease, and you wrap your legs around his waist without missing a beat, feeling his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he bears the entirety of your weight.
Feet padding across the wooden floors that spans his room, he carries you the short distance from the center of the room to his bed. Expectant that he would lay you on the bed, you prepare for impact, only then realizing that there is a detour in store when he takes a seat instead of laying you down.
Legs on either side of him, you begin tugging at the waistband of his boxers, urging him to remove the cotton soft fabric, but his hand finds your wrist and you can’t help the small ping of rejection when he prevents you from going any further. You pull back, eyes searching his, but you can’t seem to read his expression.
When he remains silent, you make another attempt to get closer to him but his grip only tightens.
“What?” you ask, suppressing the disappointment and slight annoyance as you stare into the pair of brown irises in front of you for an answer.
However, he averts his gaze to the wall behind you, changing from hot and heavy to distant and indifferent in a blink of an eye.
“The agreement was a strip show. Not a tease show,” he says in a matter of fact tone.
You catch glimpse of the pout betraying his haughty attitude, unable to hide the childish grin splaying across your lips at the sight.
“I thought you said no more games?” you play.
He is quiet for a long moment, teeth working his lower lip in thought, mulling over his options no doubt. And as he attractively sits in deep thought, you feel his grip around your wrist loosen, a window of opportunity presenting itself. Tauntingly so, your hand makes its way to his bare chest, fingers tracing over the contours of his muscles as you lean further in, lips barely grazing his.
“How about…” you begin, inching closer, “you remove the rest yourself?”
Your proposal piques his interest, and you’re certain he’s already ridding you of what ever clothing remains from the way his eyes hover over your body, brows furrowing in concentration.
And there is just something about the way his eyes light up in promise when you give the okay to strip you that has you somehow even more turned on, the mere expectation of all the things he can, and will do to you sending waves of pleasure to your core.
“So?” you push.
The sight of his jaw working under his skin has your inner goddess smirking triumphantly as he falls victim to the bait, the flare of fire in his brown eyes making you shiver in anticipation. His gaze trails down the length of your body, leaving behind a hot trail as his eyes becomes fixated on the growing wet patch pooling between your legs. And the instant his eyes make contact, you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to clench your knees shut to quell the dripping from your hidden folds.
“So wet already?” he teases, a small smile curving his lips.
You shift under the scrutiny of his gaze, causing him to draw in a sharp breath when you brush against his sensitive tip.
“Fuck,” he growls.
And you make another attempt to move, but he holds your hips in place.
“You’re really trying to push my limits today aren’t you?”
“That obvious?” you reply, teeth digging into your bottom lip sultrily.
“You’ll regret tempting me,” he warns, his hand already making its way up the expanse of your exposed back.
Leaning further into him, you press your chest against his, and he catches you, grip still firm on your hips. You look to him with a mischievous smile, carefully placing your fingertips over his lips and tracing their shape.
“Try me,” you provoke.
Although feint, you can see the subtle lop sided smirk painting his perfectly plump lips. Tongue glossing over the bottom pair, his hand begins its work at the clasps, unhooking them with ease. You feel the fabric loosen slightly, and he’s already leaning back, eyes deep with desire as he awaits the slow unveiling of your breasts. Under normal circumstances, you’d be more than willing to oblige, letting it fall, the piece of clothing stripping you down to all your dangerous, forbidden lusts. A temptress he’d call you, his hands apt to caress and massage over your breasts. To have his tongue gloss and swirl around the sensitive nub. And to have you writhe in pleasure from the nerve wrecking nips as he takes a lawless bite, teeth penetrating skin as he indulges in what he describes to be the perfect blend of soft yet deliciously so firm peaches.
And just as he catches glimpse of your areola, you abruptly cup his face between your hands, seizing his lips in a hot kiss as the black laced material pools around your waist. You hear him mumble inaudibly against your lips, well aware of a protest, but you take it all in, lips coaxing, nibbling and whispering against his. He groans, unable to hide his satisfaction, and there it is. The smile you feel against your lips.
His tongue demands entry and you let him in, your body answering whatever he demands, all thoughts of denial absent. Hands hungrily running along your sides, a gasp escapes your lips at the mere brush of his thumb on your nipple, the sensation sending flutters of pleasure through you. Shivering under his touch, you feel his muscles shift under you, another gasp escaping your lips at the briefest seconds of being airborne.
With a thud, you land on the bed, back resting on the mattress and your heart rate picking up pace.
“You’ve been warned.”
Your gaze meets his, and you can’t help but salivate at the sight. Desire is thick in his eyes, and damn, his body was like that of a god. Is like a god, made of contour and muscles – sculpted to perfection. He moves and you lay there speechless, watching every ripple of muscle as he hooks a finger into the waistband of your underwear, raising your leg and removing the only piece of clothing that has kept your lustful demons at bay. Seductively tracing his lower lip with his tongue as he lowers your leg, he begins to lean down, gaze zeroing in.
“You won’t have to worry about passing…”
Something flashes in his eyes. Alarm bells should have set off, but there was none. All you could hear is the pounding of your heart, your need blinding.
“You won’t even make it to class…at least not after tonight.”
Holding your gaze, never once faltering, he continues his descent lower, just enough so that your lips are hair width apart. It took every ounce of self control, your hand itching to snake around his neck and draw him towards you, the throbbing ache between your legs magnifying. Fuck. I want him. I want him now.
Eyes piercing through you, he patiently waits for the sheer flicker of amorous longing. And when he catches the glimmer of lust, the corner of his mouth curves up and that’s when realization hit.
This was really the calm before the storm.
In a split second – in one swift motion – his mouth is on yours, swallowing the gasp that follows when his hand finds your breast, cupping them in one hand, while the other on your hips, pulling you further into him. Shit. Sliding your hand around his neck and into his hair, you grab a fistful, taking a firm hold and ever so slightly tugging on the strands. He lets out a growl, and the reverberations sends out a shooting pleasure.
“Jimin,” you wrench out, practically panting.
You can feel him smiling as he buries himself into the side of your neck, his lips nibbling at your naked shoulder, sucking the flesh and leaving at its wake his work of art. Fingers digging into his shoulders, you roll your head to the side, allowing him better access, to which he shows no hesitation, his tongue continuing to ravish its surface.
Fuck. You wanted him in you, then and there.
Still holding you onto him, skin pressing against skin, his one hand continues to cup your breast firmly, all the while the other beginning to approach the ache between your legs. You buck your hips, desperate for contact, and when you feel his hand at your folds, a soft sigh leaves your lips, a shudder ripping through you. Teasingly so, the pads of his fingers begin to work your lower lips, steadily gliding up and down along it’s length.
As you lose yourself from his touch, you feel a growing pressure at your entrance. With no warning, he dips a finger inside. Then a second. You suck in a breath at the intrusion, goosebumps breaking out as he finds a steady rhythm. In then out. Then back in. With every thrust in, his fingers pushes further inside of you, deliciously curling and stretching you out.
Head rolling back from the heart stopping ministrations, he continues his enticing assault at your core, building a steady and painstakingly slow tempo. But you needed it faster. Harder. Hand falling over his, you urge him to go faster, feeling the build.
“Jimin.”
You’re practically begging.
“More,” you rasp out.
“More?”
You hear the thick lust in his voice and you are nearing combustion. And you know he is just as close to the edge, barely holding himself back as his hips move against you harder. Faster. The desire is almost near blinding, everything around you completely lost amidst the pleasure. Your focus is entirely on him. At how he would soon be inside you. You could feel him. Feel him through his boxers and fuck, you feel a pulse at your core at the friction.
Pulling his hand from between your legs, a withdrawal like surge crashes over you as you lay panting achingly from the sudden emptiness. Gritting your teeth in resentment, you prop yourself onto your elbows, eyes locking with his.
He dips down, gaze ghosting over your lips.
“What’s the magic word?” he asks, tone taunting.
“Now,” you breathe.
Eyes falling onto his lips, you snake a hand behind his neck, drawing him down in hopes of closing the little distance that remains. Lips just grazing his, he retreats, and you find yourself growling in frustration when he denies you the contact you’re longing for.
“Please,” you whimper.
He chuckles, nipping the corner of your lips.
“Spread’em.”
Falling back onto the mattress, you do as he says, your legs fanning open. He holds himself over you, lowering himself to plant a soft peck against your lips. Then your jawline. Then the side of your neck. Then your collarbone. There is no rush in his movements, every second being drawn out as he travels down the length of your body, at a painstakingly slow, sensuous pace. Then you feel the press of his lips at the valley between your breasts. Then the area just above your navel before he disappears between your legs. Then there it is. The long-awaited puff of air at your core.
Oh my.
Breath and temperature hot like fire, you close your eyes, relishing and welcoming the breeze as you wait in anticipation. And it only takes what seems to be the longest, torturous minute of complete silence before you feel the mattress dip under his weight. Then slick. You feel his hand at your folds, continuing their previous endeavors. Up and down. He slides his fingers along its length, and you could feel yourself nearly tipping over the edge.
And then he pulls back, leaving you in desolation.
“Jimin,” you say through clenched teeth, hands grabbing a fistful of his sheets in frustration.
He chuckles, his grin turning wolfish. “I want you screaming my name all night.”
You lift your head, trying to concentrate. But instead, you feel the ache rise, finding yourself drowning further into the haze of pounding desire. He lifts heated eyes on you and you can see the lust swimming in its depths. There is no hiding it. He wants everything you do. All the push and pull is to see who could hold out longer. Who could make the other break first. And if you’ve learned anything from your previous escapades, you’re well aware that he’s well versed with reservation and control.
Bending down, he presses a kiss on the flesh just above your heat, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you suppress the threatening moan. Slowly lowering himself, gaze locking onto the space between your legs, you suck in a sharp breath as he slides a finger in. Then he pauses once before going in deeper. Goddamn. He pushes a second finger inside. And then a third, stroking in and out, starting a rhythm. As you lay, gasping for air, waves of pleasure shoots through you, spreading to every inch of your body. And you can’t help but relish the euphoric sensation, feeling your high build yet again.
A cry escapes your lips, your back arching from the hard penetration, his fingers ramming into you with more force. In and then back out and then in again. Small whines pass through parted lips as you lose yourself, entirely immersed by the waves of pleasure washing over you. Rapt by the rush, you lace your fingers through his hair, pleading for more as your hips move in rhythm, meeting him with every thrust. You’re practically riding his hand, reveling in his caress as he reaches depths you never thought possible.
Shit.
Relentless, his fingers continue their delicious assault at your sex, and dear god, you’re on the brink of insanity as all thoughts obscure from his touch. And then you feel it. Your climax ripping through you.
Heaving for air, body limp and still shaking, he pulls his fingers out, licking off the residue. Standing up, he removes the only piece of clothing left, shoving his boxers down and tossing them off to side. You haven’t even had the time to register his absence, his hands at your thighs and spreading them wide – the night is far from over. And in one smooth movement, he drives deep inside, impaling you in the next second.
Finally.
He nuzzles along your jawline, a delicious shiver rushing through you as his breath caresses your skin. You allow your eyes to close, welcoming the familiar heat. Head drawn back, he begins trailing kisses down your throat, leaving behind a blazing hot trail at every contact made. Continuing his journey downwards, he finds the dip between your breasts, lingering long enough to have you all hot and bothered, before letting out a low growl and lifting back up to meet your lips. You sigh in contentment as his mouth moves over yours, relishing the sweet press and release of his lips.
And then he begins to move. You pause for a beat before moving with him, jerking your hips to meet him with each thrust. Fingers trickling the surface of your cheek, your eyes flicker open, your gaze immediately meeting his. He peers down through lidded eyes, the stark need for you lucid in their depths. It’s as clear as night and day, and the intensity renders you speechless, the depths of his eyes smoldering with desire. A look you are certain mirrors yours.
“Jim-”
He consumes the remainder of his name, his tongue prompting your lips to part. Without missing a beat, you do so, allowing him entry. The muscle sweeps against yours in one fluid motion, and you can’t help the shiver as he takes claim. He’s giving you a taste of what is yours, as you give him a taste of what is his. Mine. The word is left unspoken, but the message is loud and clear.
Continuing to roll his hips, he pushes farther into you, going deep. The harder he went, the more you would unravel for him, your thoughts dissipating into gasps mixed with pleasure filled moans. Writhing with pleasure beneath him, he swallows your cries of bliss, tongue meeting and tangling with yours – commanding your mouth.
He’s hungrier than normal, as though being deprived the unity he craves. As he draws out every breath, you can feel yourself becoming breathless, your chest tightening from the lack of air. Turning your head to the side, you try to catch a breath, but instead, a sharp inhale ensues as his teeth sinks into the flesh of the side of your neck. Mouth parted slightly, a moan escapes at the opportunity, the pain immediately dissolving as his tongue traces over the indentations, licking fire overtop your skin. And you revel in the sensation as you are being pushed further to the edge.
I want more. I need more.
He holds still for a second, and you remain lying there panting. You want to reach for him and pull him back onto you, wanting nothing more than to feel his full weight on you. You pull at his hold on your wrist, but he holds you, hands still pinned above you. And just as you open your mouth to protest, your mouth immediately shuts close while your heart threatens to stop beating at the sight of him watching you.
His eyes smoldered, gazing back into yours. And you feel the full force of his stare as he strips you bare, seeing and reading into your thoughts and soul as though an open book. The primal part of you wants to run as a predatory look takes over his features, but a strange flicker of excitement fills you. Still inside, sheathed inside you, he lets out a grunt as you squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze.
Grip tightening around your wrists held above you, his free hand begins traveling down your sides, the pads of his fingers setting your skin aflame. Once anchoring you in place, hand gripping your hips, he draws back and slams into you with more force. Your back arches on impact. Breast lifting for him, he takes one into his mouth, devouring it, sweeping his tongue around the nipple, flicking it and teasing it. And he couldn’t help but take a bite, asserting just the right amount of pressure with his teeth which has sparks of pleasure rippling through you.
Then his thrusts are harder. Rougher. Relentless, he went in as far as possible, waking up the senses of your body as he hit the spot that has you gasping for air. Bent over you, he falls forward, face burrowing in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and you could hear him breath, pant, and grunt, the sounds drowning out your gasps and moans as he pounds into you in a god-like pace. The harder he moves. The deeper he went, the more you wanted to match him, thrust for thrust. And you did, lifting your body up, pressing all of your body up against him. Both slick from sweat, you seamlessly move together, easily gliding against one another.
Toes digging into the mattress, you grasp onto his shoulder tighter, nails breaking flesh and leaving at it’s wake crescent shapes that grace his shoulder blades. Losing yourself in ecstasy, you feel the pleasure consuming you with every forceful slam. Devouring you as he fills you. And you feel it building. You are at the cusps of your second orgasm and god, yes. His thumb finds your clit, his movement ruthless as his pace quickens. Hands raking down his back, you tighten your legs around him, bringing him even closer against you. And you can’t help but let out a soft sigh at the contact.
Skin on skin, bodies pressing and rubbing against each other, you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Like a breathtaking fever, his feverous touch has your body scorching in flames, your body burning like a thousand fires.
The sensations are building. You are at the edge, simply hanging on a fine thread as he continues rearing into you. You want him to go faster. You want to feel the high and ride it.
Fuck. You are going to come. You can feel it.
In the next second, a shrill cry escapes your lips as spasms of pleasure join into one sensuous, long momentous ride. And you ride it out as he continues to chase his own high. You feel his body tense, and you know he is right with you when you feel his expansion filling you to extremes, before he loads you with hot come.
Wave after wave crashes into you, your orgasm swarming your body like a shockwave. Body trembling from your second climax, he holds himself over you and you feel beads of his sweat dropping onto the surface of your skin, the droplet momentarily extinguishing the heat engulfing you. He drops next to you, and you look through lidded eyes, unable to resist drinking in his features. As you lay beside him, gaze laser focused on his lower lip, he dips in for another kiss – it’s slower this time, reverberating a softness that contrasts the lust-filled indulgence just moments before.
“Shit,” you murmur.
A lazy smile adorns his face, a hand going to your hip and rubbing circles as you both catch your breath. Body tingling with awareness, you can already feel a yearning for him build as your body begins to react from the subtle, innocent ministrations. Clamping your knees together, you try to suppress the need throbbing between your legs.
“Round three? Already?” he teases, and you reach for the pillow, covering your face. But he catches the surge of colour on your cheeks.
“On a scale from one to ten, how screwed am I for tomorrow?”
He waits a beat before answering. “A solid ten.”
You let out a low groan. Taking a secretive glance behind the pillow, you can see the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin.
“How badly did I do on the practice midterm?”
“Not bad. You aced it.”
“What?!”
You shoot up from the bed, sitting up.
“Nice view,” he says with a low wolf whistle at the sight of your full and erect breasts.
Rolling your eyes, you grab his blanket and wrap it around you.
“What’s the point in hiding? I’ve already seen….and tasted everything.”
Your glare is gone just as quickly as it came, the familiar heat yet again pooling between your legs as images of the last hour flashes in your mind.
“So what was the point in all of this?” you gesture before crossing your arms over your chest.
He bites out a laugh before planting a kiss to your mouth. “A reward and punishment all in one.”
“Screw you.”
He’s now sporting a full-blown grin. “You just did.”
You roll your eyes, turning your back on him.
“I’m going to get you back,” you say with resolve, bending down to pick up his shirt.
Slipping into his white tee, half expecting an annoying retort, you’re left wondering why he’s silent. Turning around, your breath hitches when you catch the desire in his depths, his eyes darkening once again as he takes in the sight of you.
“Round three?”
You shoot him an incredulous look as he taps his bed.
“You do realize that I have to be up in less than 6 hours right?”
“I am aware,” he says as he rises up to his elbow.
He’s already undressing you, by the way his eyes are raking up and down the length of your body. Giving him a wary glance, you cross your arms over your chest to shelter yourself from the weight of his stare, but the intensity of his gaze amplifies when his shirt raises ever so slightly just above your sex.
In one fluid motion, he’s off the bed and in front of you. You had a second to realize what he’s doing as his one hand wraps around your waist, drawing you towards him so that your body is pressed right against his, while the other caresses your chin, lifting it up so that you’re forced to look up.
Your gaze meets his, and you can see the corner of his lips curve up into a smirk, before he dips down, his lips nipping at yours. You let out a soft sigh at the contact.
“All you have to say is you don’t want to and I’ll stop.”
He continues rubbing his thumb at your hips, the pads of his fingers tracing circles overtop your flesh. Warmth and a frenzy of desire washes over you from the touch, the need to feel him starting to build up again. And in a matter of seconds, you know the throbbing between your legs will obscure all thoughts, which only leaves you with really only one option –
“I hate you,” you say, eyes fluttering shut in defeat.
I love the way you write oml I'm in love with your works. I'm a writer too and I only have 2 pieces of work up also. I hope we can grow together😂❤️👍🙏
Aww thank you!!! To be praised not only in my writing style but also from another writer? It’s pretty mind blowing! I wish you all the best in your writing ventures and all that you have yet plan to do!
*raises a glass* To the beginning of greater things to come!!
oh my god. i just stumbled upon your fix delectable lesson and noW I AM HOT AND BOTHERED oh my god that was so so so so good???? beautifully written???? you're a god???? your writing amazed me cos it was so perfect like exciting and exhilarating and wOnderful at the same time??? wowsie thanks for your time you've used for writing this masterpiece???? I LOVED IT I ENJOYED IT IT WAS PERFECT YOU ARE PERFECT WOW THANK YOU BLESS YOU
What do I even say like? Thank you? I love you? Can I hug you? Is that creepy? O_o
LOOL! Hot and bothered? Totally what I was going for ;) Confession time? I was hot and bothered while writing it and was a little concerned for my well being cause it’s just so cringey! Like who is even typing? Where am I? Who am I? But I guess channeling the inner pervert was well worth it :’) (is this even appropriate to share xD ?)
On a more serious note! Thank you for this message that is overflowing with positivity. The feedback, compliments and the honesty is very much appreciated <3
Not to be annoying but when are you planning to release your next piece of work? Obsessed with your writing and I feel so deprived... 0_0
LOOL! I love this XD
I’m actually powering through my readings to work on this piece I’m hoping to release sometime soon. At this point, I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore and basically highlighting everything..Yup I know..priorities are totally on point >.>please tell me I’m not the only one who does this :’)
Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: Fluff, a lot of smut
Warnings: Mature content
Word Count: 4.5K
His voice was almost a whisper, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear. And the heat coupled with the slow, savory movements of his fingers overtop the thin fabric had an almost numbing effect, your mind drawing a blank as you enter an intoxicating haze.
“I thought there was no punishment?” you manage to say, swallowing back the moans that threatened to escape.
“This is a demonstration baby, not a punishment.”
You shift beneath the sheets, the cold night’s breeze sending chills through your body. Nuzzling your head onto the adjacent pillow, expecting sturdy arms to shield you from the wintry air, a soft sigh escapes your lips at the absence of his warmth. Eyes barely open, you reach further onto his side of the bed, only then waking in a lethargic state at the empty touch.
Blinking once, twice, then thrice, you slowly adjust to the dark overcast of your room, your eyes catching glimpse of the digital clock on his bedside table. It read 1:13 am. Still in a daze, your eyes busily scan the room, a sweet, almost faint sound of a beautiful tune travelling into your room. Looking in the direction of its source, you find the bedroom door left ajar.
With the melodic tune becoming progressively louder, you step out of bed, almost instantly shivering from the icy draft that fills your room. Clad in nothing but a crimson red silk lace nightgown, you cross your arms over your chest, nimbly making your way to the already propped open door, following the source of the sweet tune. Bare foot, you pad down the hallway, arrive at the entry of the living room in a matter of seconds, the familiar beautiful silhouette welcoming you. There he sat, fingers dancing across the keys of the grand piano, while the crescent moon effortless completes the scenery as it casts a silver spotlight over him, his features highlighted ever so perfectly. And you momentarily freeze in place, eyes peeking through the pillars to steal secret glances.
Watching the rare sight before you unfold, an unseeable force pulls you, your body magnetically being drawn towards him. All movements cease as you stand behind his seated figure, his aura luring you further down. Hands wrapped around his bare chest, you lean down, leaving a soft kiss at the base of his shoulder before resting your chin over its crevice. Quietly listening, you take advantage of this privy concert, eyes glued to the fingers sculpt to perfection. They move across the piano keys with ease, digits stroking each key as it transitions from minors, sharps and naturals. And the end product? A song that was not only emotionally profound but one that was irresistibly captivating to those that listened.
Then there it was. The last note, finishing the sweet melody that had your heart beating frantically, the rollercoaster of emotions vexing. He leans his head back so that it rests in the space between your neck and shoulder, the silence being filled with subdue breaths.
“Is this the song you have been composing for the past week?”
“Mhmm,” he replies, with fatigue drawn eyes.
“It sounds like it’ll be a big hit,” you smile.
“We’ll see,” he mumbles.
You run your fingers through his hair, the silky black strands easy to comb through.
“You look really good…playing the piano,” you confess, still tampering with his hair.
His whole body vibrates, his low chuckle echoing through the room.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the show, but I’d have to say that when it comes to a beautiful view, it would have to be you,” he flirts back.
You roll your eyes, trying to mask the smile forming on your lips.
“Well I’m glad you think of me that way, but I am incomparable to you, Mr. Suga.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you are a pretty solid contender.”
You pull back, feigning offence.
“I’m kidding,” he laughs. “If I could, I’d lock you up so no one can lay their eyes on you. I don’t want them tainting your beauty.”
“Alright. That’s enough of the cheesy lines. Let’s go back to bed,” you nudge.
Just as you were about to head back to the bedroom, you feel his fingers wrap around your wrist, the tender touch that previously graced the keys practically non-existent.
“I’m not sleepy yet.”
You turn around, giving him a questioning look. “I know what you are doing,” you respond. “And it’s not going to work.”
He pulls you down so that your eyes level with his.
“And what exactly am I doing Mrs. Min?”
You swallow at the sight of his hunger filled eyes.
“Do tell,” he continues to taunt.
“Don’t pretend to be innocent. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you accuse.
He shows his signature gummy smile, a smile which never fails to tug on your heartstrings.
“Stay up with me?” he asks, steering the conversation another direction.
You raise a brow, seeking that one flick of desire that would unveil his motive.
“I just need an hour or two more to finish the song,” he adds.
Hidden pleas coat his words, along with it a sense of longing, a linger sensation that anyone could easily miss. Anyone who wasn’t you. And with the seconds ticking away, the more his suppressed smile made you uneasy, your eyes searching the pair in front of you for even a tinge of hunger.
“Please,” he says, practically begging.
You continue to search, but to no avail.
“Fine,” you sigh, mentally cursing yourself for giving in.
He taps the piano chair, gesturing for you to take a seat. However, unable to shake the eerie feeling that he had some secret agenda, you reject his offer and instead walk towards the kitchen.
“I’m going to make coffee. Do you want one?” you holler, rummaging through the cupboards.
“Just a glass.”
“Cream and sugar or milk and sugar?”
“I’ll take mine black,” he answers, following suit.
“I thought you were going to work on your song?”
“I will,” he answers, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Then shouldn’t you be working on it?”
“Mhmm,” he hums.
You turn around, ready to nag him for his leisure attitude. But instead you find yourself trapped between his arms, the edge of the counter pressing further into your lower back as he inches closer. Wary of the sudden proximity, your gaze lowers and you catch a subtle grin.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he starts. Your eyebrow perks in response, the sudden interrogation making you break out in slight cold sweat. “Do you have something you are hiding from me?”
“Hiding?” you repeat.
Almost automatic, you scavenge through your mind, mentally listing anything that could be what he’s after. And you do everything but look at the pair of brown irises trying to break your resolve, only then realizing that the nine months spent on endless planning and what seemed to be countless all nighters is now hanging by a thread. Shit! The surprise party! You become wide eye, heart pounding against your ribs.
“What are you talking about?” you play off, pointing blame in his direction.
"Jungkook told me you are planning on taking piano lessons.”
A wave of relief washes over you. “I am.”
“And?”
“And what?” you ask.
“Why did you ask Namjoon to teach you and not me?”
“Because he would teach me.”
“Am I not capable of teaching you?” he argues, hurt apparent in his words. And although he tries to mask it, despite it being brief, you catch glimpse of the flicker of rage.
“It’s not that you aren’t capable-”
He leans in closer, your lips barely touching his.
“Go on…it’s not that I’m not capable but?” You could sense the change in atmosphere, his eyes suddenly dark and hooded.
You swallow at the sight of his soft, delectable lips, your thoughts in disarray.
“You have absurd conditions and when I don’t meet them, your punishments are even worse…”
“I recall you enjoying those punishments-”
“I do not!” you defend, your face a subtle red tinge at the thought.
He chuckles. “Baby you say one thing, but your body tells me another.”
You glare up at him.
“Awww don’t be mad…” He leans down. “You know what it does to me.”
“Yeah, you find me being embarrassed and upset adorable,” you answer sarcastically.
“Mhmm. But you being mad…it really just turns the switch on.”
The feeling of his growing boner has your cheeks flushing a deeper pink.
“Are you going to handle that?” you ask, pointing to his erection.
He shrugs. “Eventually…unless you want to volunteer?”
“Hmm…that sounds really tempting, but I’d like to torment you just a little longer,” you tease.
You return his sly smile with a flirty gesture.
“So when are you going to start your lessons with Namjoon?”
“I’ve had two so far,” you answer mindlessly, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.
“Well how about I give you a private lesson? Free of charge, of course.”
His suggestion piques your interest. “A private lesson?”
You bluff indifference. “When?”
“Now.”
Your brow arches. "Now?” you echo.
He nods.
“And there is no punishment if I can’t get it the first time?”
“No…but if you want there to be some sort of punishment, that can be arranged,” he smirks.
You can’t help but roll your eyes in response.
“What happened to the sweet boy that was just showering me with corny sweet lines?” you jab.
“He turned into a man.”
“So quick?” you joke.
“It’s hard to resist a woman in red.”
All jokes were cast to the side, the seriousness in his tone apparent. And you try to take him seriously, but fail as the repressed laughter leaves your lips.
"So, what’s the first lesson?” you ask, making your way back to the grand piano in the living room.
“Getting familiar with the keys.”
Situating yourself in front of the piano, you trace over the keyboard, the pads of your fingers becoming acquainted with the sets of black and white keys. With a single press of a key, a sweet bell like sound follows, the note ringing as it splices through the air.
“Namjoon taught me the scales and chords last week,” you tell him.
“Good for you.”
His words were exuding sarcasm, and you knew he wasn’t one to be jealous. Or so he claims. But contrary to popular belief, he elicits the emotion. And when he does, he was nothing but adorable, his lips pouty like a child seeking attention.
“That’s not what I meant when I said you have to familiarize yourself with the keys,” he says in a matter of fact tone.
You shoot him a confused look. Is he joking or is he being serious?
“I’ll show you.”
He takes a seat on the bench, his index finger hovering over a white key.
“If you just press it, the note sounds dull and emotionless.” He demonstrates, his finger lowering the key.
“Now listen to the difference when you transmit the feelings you want to convey to your audience into your fingertips.”
Again he demonstrates. But rather than the rough ping you heard just moments before, you hear the note resonate beautifully.
“Do you hear the difference?” he asks, eyes searching yours for an answer.
“I do…I’m just not sure of the whole transmitting my feelings into my fingertips,” you reply, your brows drawn to the center as you stare at your palms for the answer.
“Come. I’ll show you.”
You take his outreached hand. He draws you towards him, situating you down. And much to your surprise, rather than the cold surface you were expecting, you make contact with warm fabric.
“Is this a joke?” you ask while seated on his lap.
“No. It makes it easier to control your hands. Now put your hands on top of mine.”
His words seethe dominance, and you can’t help but do as you are told. No questions asked.
“Don’t try to memorize the movements. Feel them.”
You nod as if you understand what he means. With a press of what you make out to be the pedal, his hands begin to work the keys, their movements smooth yet impactful, each stroke purposeful as he plays the notes on the sheets spread out in front of you.
“Now you try. Place your hands in the natural position.”
“Namjoon hasn’t gone over hand positions with me yet.”
“And he won’t be.”
You could practically hear the jealousy oozing from his tongue, your face contorting as you resist the urge to smile.
“This is the natural position,” he says, taking your hands and placing each finger on their respective keys.
Your fingers sit on the keyboard, and only seconds after learning where they settle, he orders you to play the A chord. And you do. Or what you could say was your best attempt.
“Not bad but still not good enough,” he bluntly states. “Remember, put your feelings into each note. Try again.”
You take a deep breath to help calm your nerves, then make a second attempt.
“Better…but the notes still feel empty.”
He could feel you slump in disappointment. “Alright baby, let me show you what I mean. Close your eyes.”
Just as he instructs you to, you close your eyes, your vision of the once dimly lit room becoming pitch black. And not even seconds go by when you feel his hands over yours, easily framing yours as he guides your fingers back onto the keyboard.
“Keep your hands there until I tell you that you can move. Got it?”
Before you could give any indication that you were ready - be it a gesture, a simple nod or a verbal cue- he places one hand on your knee while the other on your hip, causing you to tense under his touch. In the midst of gathering your thoughts travelling off course, a sharp inhale follows, his hand making their ascent up the length of your inner thigh and leaving the skin burning at its wake. You feel his lips curl into a lop sided smirk, the pads of his fingers finding the growing wet patch on your panties. Cheeks heating with embarrassment, you move your hand from the keys. In one swift motion, you feel your wrist caught in his grip, your fingers barely grazing the surface of the piano.
“I told you not to move.”
His voice was almost a whisper, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. The heat coupled with the slow movements of his fingers overtop the thin fabric had an almost numbing effect, your mind drawing a blank as you enter an intoxicating haze.
“I thought there was no punishment?” you manage to say, swallowing back the moans that threatened to escape.
“This is a demonstration baby, not a punishment.”
He continues his delicious assault at your dampening core, your toes and fingers curling as you try to stay completely still. Because if there was one thing you knew for sure, he is daring you to break the rules, a smile etched on his face as he patiently waits for you to break his law. For what? To return the favour, a favour which was both a blessing and a curse. What more? It was always done in the form of a payback, one that he never fails to push to extremes.
Your eyes immediately opens when he pushes your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds. Suspense begins to build, your stomach churning from the anticipation of his fingers gliding through them. And as easily as the butterflies formed, they just as easily vanished, almost instantaneously at his withdrawal. You couldn’t help the slight ping of rejection, you heart sinking in disappointment.
“Now touch yourself.”
The very words ring through your ears, your inner goddess screaming half in excitement while the other in complete bewilderment. There was a sense of urgency in his tone, his impatient growl cuing you that you were taking too sweet of a time, depriving him of what he wants. And that only served to turn you on even more.
Keeping one hand on the keys, you move the other to your core, your juices readily coating your fingers. And without missing a beat, you could feel the familiar touch, a touch your body aches and longs for, his large hand palming yours, easily engulfing them within his.
“Close your eyes baby.”
All the innocent foreplay and the lesson that was supposed to be taught is discarded, much like your gown that he oh so kindly threw in some direction you didn’t care to ponder or follow where, completely entrapped by the arousal filled space. Your focus averts to the feelings of lust, hunger and the dire need to quench the ever growing thirst. Because god if it wasn’t dealt with, the aftermath would not be pleasant. For you or him.
You were almost desperate, on the brink of begging. But the pressing boner on your ass gave you the willpower to hold on. You were going to prolong this treacherous torture, even though it would be much easier for you to just let go of your pride and ask. However, well aware that you weren’t the only one seeking a release, you intend to make him succumb, even though the pleasure your body desires was at the tip of your fingertips, figuratively and literally.
Biting down on your lower lip, the small whines were successfully kept behind sealed lips. However, how long you could keep this up was an entirely different story, his hand maneuvering yours up and down your folds in ways you never thought were possible. And you were no stranger to touching yourself. It was almost second nature as embarrassing as it sounds, considering he was frequently gone and rarely home.
A single brush had you convulsing, the mere motion sending a pleasurable rush. Your mouth parts slightly in awe, a moan escaping at the opportunity. Fuck. Despite his indirect contact, the sensations you felt were nearly identical, your body reacting as it would under his touch.
“Imagine that you are the piano and I am the pianist.”
His voice was hoarse, its effects dizzying.
“Now what do you want me to do? How do you want me to make you feel?”
A breathy sigh leaves your lips and the corners of his lips curl up into a sly smile at the state that you are in.
“Baby, you need to pay attention.”
He continues, with great precision, his delectable service at your folds, occupying the area your hand once did. As you relish the work of his fingers, you lean forward, head almost in contact with the sheets sprawled in front of you, your tongue glossing over your bottom lip. God did it feel so good.
Breathing jagged, you try to find the strength to tame the erotic thoughts whirling in your mind, wanting and only needing one thing. Him in you.
“Listen carefully,” he whispers, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.
Dipping his index and middle finger inside you, he spreads them with the sole intention of stretching you out. You inhale sharply at the expansion, your one hand latching onto his forearm while the other forming a fist, knuckles turning white. He hums in satisfaction, your cries of pleasure feeding his release.
“Listen to the beautiful sounds.”
You could barely hear, let alone pay attention to the inaudible words spilling from the pair of lips kissing the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Teeth grazing, tongue licking, and sucking, blood pools to the surface of the skin. An action you had particularly warned him not to do, but too lost in the sensation to care.
A low growl, so animalistic and raw, escapes, your eager shift causing your ass to graze his cock.
“Baby,” he breathes, the endearing title making your heart flutter as though it was the first time he’s ever called you. “Don’t move.”
Just as the words leave his mouth, you let out a cry, his hand previously on your waist squeezing and tugging on your hardening nipple. It was more so a warning than a reminder that his words were law. And on most occasions, not a second thought crossed your mind but to abide and heed to his words. But this time round, it was proving to have the opposite effect, your body unknowingly moving, ass rubbing against his throbbing dick, at the very thought of the punishment in store – a mixture of pain and pleasure awaiting you at the end of this treacherous road.
“Yoongi.”
His name escapes your lips, almost pleadingly as you helplessly go numb under his touch.
“You really want to be punished don’t you?”
He lifts you off his lap, and you gasp at the feeling of being airborne for the briefest moment. You grip onto his shoulder for support as he hoists you on top of the grand piano.
“W-wait. Let’s go to the bedroom-”
“The lesson is just getting started,” he interrupts.
There is no hiding the interest in his eyes, the sparks of lust exuding from every pore of his body, his gaze locked on the space between your legs. Your body stills under the scrutiny of his gaze, eyes trained on the tongue that traces his bottom lip as he entertains the idea of licking your juices.
You mirror his actions, allowing your eyes to roam down to the waistline of his sweats, mouth-watering at the sight of the bulge disappearing beneath it. His lips quirk into a knowing smile, grinning at the sight of your lust filled eyes.
“Now baby.” The ache between your legs pulsate. “This is what I meant when I said to transmit the feelings into your fingertips.”
He shoves his fingers, hard and fast, your back arching from the penetration. You let your head hang back, your lips parting to allow the gasps and moans to escape willingly. There was no way you could hold them back, and there was no way you would. Not when it felt this good.
The pads of your fingers press further on to the glass-like surface, the once pink shade of your nails turning white.
“The sounds you’re producing are so alluring,” he hisses.
He knew your body like the back of his hand, his mind holding a mental blueprint of all its secrets. With each deep thrust into your core, small whines pass through parted lips as you lose yourself, your mind clear of all thoughts as waves of pleasure wash over you.
Nerves undergoing sensory overload, you dig your toes onto the surface of the keyboard, the sound of the keys resonating with your cries; loud enough to make an impact, but not enough to drown out your cries.
And in sweet conjuncture of his long fingers curling up inside you, you raise your head, immediately locking eyes with him.
He gives a brief, tormenting smile before blowing a puff of hot air at your entrance, the warm breeze intensifying the pleasurable ache between your legs.
“Fuck,” you mutter, letting your head roll back.
“That’s what I intend to do…after I make you come with my fingers of course.”
The way the words rumble against your core set your mind into a frenzy. You watch him disappear between your legs, his tongue beginning their delicious assault on your bottom lips. How was it possible to lick fire on your skin? Jerking your hips up, you give him undeniable access, relishing and consuming the very sensation that has your skin burning ablaze.
Shit. Your back arches to chase the pleasure, well aware that it won’t be long before you’ll be convulsing from his god-like fingers and the blessing that was his tongue, which felt like it was capable of curing any known disease to man. And just as you predict, he pumps his fingers in a few more times, a slew of colourful profanities and moans setting free at your release.
Your body limp, still coming down from your high, you feel your legs spread further apart, your mind blinking back to existence. Peering down at where his hands rest, he pulls you down, rough yet oddly gentle, to close the distance. Whether those two words could even co-exist, you haven’t the slightest clue. And you didn’t care. At least not in the presence of his throbbing cock.
A moan escapes your lips, still sensitive from his previous endeavours, his now unveiled and pulsating length teasing your entrance. His lips curve into a smirk, his amusement apparent, not that he made much of an effort to hide it to begin with. Leaning forward until his face is inches from yours, he begins his slow motions, gaining momentum as his dick travels the length of your folds.
With a steady pace, in the midst of your cries, you hear the slick sounds of your juices before feeling his tip pressing at your entrance. And without much warning, he thrusts into you, sending your body into shock. Taking advantage of your parted lips, he slips his tongue in with ease, his kiss animalistic – hungry and uncontrolled.
He gives you a brief moment to adjust, his size filling you to extremes, before he begins to rock his hips. And like a wave, unpredictable and varying in strengths when travelling ashore, he rolls his hips into you, driving his length further into you with each thrust, your thoughts dissipating into gasps mixed with pleasure filled moans, and skin slapping skin.
“Fuck” was all you manage to get out.
His undeniably marveling grunts drown out your cries of pleasure, the very sound almost deafening.
You feel drops of sweat fall onto your body, the cool sensation extinguishing the heat raising your temperature to a dangerous high. However, the refreshing effect was only temporary, a single touch setting your skin to flames, his own skin burning like that of a thousand fires.
Marks appear on his shoulder blades, your nails digging and scraping its surface as your walls clench around his length. You could hear the pounding of your heart resonate, threatening to burst through your ribcage as it beats a hundred miles a minute.
He parts from your lips, burrowing his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, driving into you in a god-like pace. Easily losing yourself, pleasure consuming you with every forceful slam, you feel yourself nearing a second high, only seconds away from tipping off the edge. Your fingers claw at his back, your hips raising to meet every thrust, and then there it was. The restrained moan finally escapes from the explosion of pleasure shooting through you.
You hear his breathy sighs and inaudible grunts as he chases his own high. And with a couple more thrusts, he pulls out and pumps himself, hot come spilling onto your exposed skin.
“That’s some lesson,” you pant, trying to make your voice sound enthusiastic despite the exhaustion.
Instead of a verbal reply, he moves his face from your shoulder, showcasing a smile that has your heart swelling.
“God I’m tired,” he breathes, lifting himself off of you.
You follow suit, propping yourself onto your elbows.
“How about your song?”
He wipes your juices off the keys, licking the residue from his finger.
“I’ll just have to pull an all nighter tomorrow,” he shrugs.
A wave of guilt washes over you.
“Join me?” he asks. But he already knew the answer from a single glance.
