✨FLOWER PETALS🌸

📍899 🚨MOSTLY BTS but i fancy other groups as well ✈️🔫 짠!

[100vern]

she, by proxy | myg, kth

(or, the one where yoongi gets what yoongi wants, even when what he wants is taehyung. especially when it's taehyung.)

✤ pairing: yoongi x reader; taehyung x reader; yoongi x taehyung ✤ genre: est. relationship (yoongi x reader), pwp ✤ rating: explicit; minors dni ✤ warnings: a lot of swearing, drinking but no one's drunk, a friend group in which everyone is queer and has fucked at least once probably, taehyung is a messy hoe but yoongi's an entire disaster, pining, open relationships, polyamory that is discussed briefly, i have been told there are some feelings involved. the most important: there is gay stuff in here!!! i repeat, some of this is VERY GAY! please do not read if that isn't your thing! ✤ smut warnings: girls making out, a threesome, dudes kissing, oral sex (m. receiving), anal fingering, vaginal fingering, taegi get pegged, dirty talk, dudes touching themselves a lot, come as lube (but there's also real lube dw), come eating, voyeurism, a lil slapping (thighs/clit), the dom/sub dynamics shift throughout the fic but mainly dom!reader, very mild degradation, a lil begging, taehyung cries, fingers always seem to wind up in mouths, hair pulling, frottage, yoongi accidentally gets edged, praise, protected sex, dp (fingers & piv at the same time). i think that's it :') but let me know if i forgot anything. ✤ word count: 8.3k ✤ credits: thank you to @effortandmore / @the-boy-meets-evil / & @here2bbtstrash for beta'ing this for me. my personal porny fairy godparents. i appreciate you all a whole lot. ✤ author's note: can you believe my degenerate brain dreamed this up and then i wrote all of it in two days in a delirious haze, opened the doc this morning to make final edits, and added almost 2k more. idk who i am anymore. if i missed anything it's bc i finished & edited this during jk's live and i was distracted, to say the least. anyway this is embarrassing i feel like a prude so i'm gonna go hide. pls come scream in my inbox with me unless it's to yell tired shit at me abt writing mxm/pegging/whatever else i warned you this is gay.

You hadn’t been surprised the first time, and you’re not surprised now, countless times later.

A girl slides into Taehyung’s lap—long hair, bubblegum pink, almost certainly a wig—and his hands immediately go to the small of her back. Large, nearly swallow her up, and they move to rest possessively at her hips, his grip tight as he pulls her closer. Her top is cropped latex and leaves very little to the imagination, which isn’t an issue for you or Yoongi because she’s not what Yoongi’s looking at. His eyes are locked on Taehyung’s hands; locked on the way the tendons flex as he manhandles the faceless girl in his lap, hikes her over one thick thigh.

Ten more seconds of this and all of you will be looking for a new club.

The air is hazy and thick, the floor sticky with god knows what, and Yoongi reaches for you beneath the table. His own large hand finds your smaller one, those knobby knuckles almost uncomfortable when he twines your fingers together. He’s still staring at Taehyung, and you want to do something, say something, it’ll be someone else soon, stop watching, you’re only gonna hurt yourself, but you know him, and you know when he gets like this it’s best to just let him ride it out. Suffer a little.

(Right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be tortured as last time, at least—when all of you had gone someplace else, some seedy spot in an Itaewon basement, and Taehyung had some girl pressed against the wall outside the bathrooms, fingers buried deep in her cunt as she shook and came. And Hobi, smarter and sharper than any of you but still so fucking stupid, had just—

“Fuck, man, they’re gonna need a mop and bucket for that. I mean, shit, it was so much? The sound when it hit the floor—”

Jeongguk had pulled a face. Half doe-eyes, half mortified terror. “When what hit the floor, hyung?”

“Her fucking squirt, Jeonggukie, what the fuck do you think—”

And Namjoon, just as wide-eyed and terrified as Jeongguk but for an entirely different reason, had laughed awkwardly and said, “Haaa, maybe we should talk about something else?” as he looked between Hoseok and Yoongi.

That night had been shit-tier, nearly unsalvageable, so at least it doesn’t seem like Taehyung’s in that kind of mood. At least the girl in his lap still has her clothes on. At least his hands are someplace you can see them. At least Yoongi’s still beside you.)

So you bide your time. Take stock of who’s still here and where they are, because the girl in Taehyung’s lap has her lips on his neck and things might go south faster than you’d originally anticipated. Hoseok and Jimin are on the dance floor, hips doing something sinful and too much; Namjoon’s at the bar, jaw clenched as the bartender passes him over for the fourth time in a row; Soyeon and Hyungseo are in the other side of your booth, tongues sloppy as they kiss just because they feel like it; Jeongguk, shoved in the corner on Yoongi’s other side, is slack-jawed as he stares at them, and Jeongguk is a fucking pervert so you know he’s hard.

“Put your dick back in your pants, Jeonggukie,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the music. The bass is heavy as it drops, feels like it’s thrumming through your veins, and Jeongguk startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his panic, and Soyeon and Hyungseo don’t bother breaking apart to look. “You want another drink?” you ask Yoongi, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He shakes his head, finally drags his attention away from Taehyung. There’s someone new in his lap: chin-length silver hair, thin legs that go on for miles, tan skin covered in boldly-colored tattoos, could be anyone. Yoongi isn’t looking anymore, but you are, so you catch it when Taehyung looks up. Looks right at Yoongi, wants to see if he’s watching, but instead he just finds you. “Gonna go smoke,” Yoongi answers, and you slide out of the booth to let him leave.

“Is hyung okay?” Jeongguk asks when the two of you are pressed back together. He sips leisurely at his drink, trying to make it last until Namjoon makes it back from the bar with another one. Something baby blue and shockingly green, a little umbrella on top. Two cherries. “He seems sad. Hey, watch this.” Jeongguk pops one into his mouth and presents the knotted stem to you seconds later.

This is the part you never know how to explain: that Yoongi loves you but sometimes he wants someone else. Not instead, but too. That you love Yoongi and want him to have whatever he wants, and that jealousy is foreign to you. That you and Yoongi love each other but do things a little unorthodox, which is not out of the ordinary for a friend group as ran-through and commingled as yours, but still takes patience and care to explain.

So you just ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, laugh at his squawking protests, and wrangle him so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t worry this pretty little head about your hyungs, okay?”

Jeongguk surfaces with a glare, surface-level because you’ve embarrassed him in front of two hot girls that are still making out, and hides his flushed cheeks behind his drink. “Is it about Taehyungie-hyung?”

“What’d I just tell you?”

He pouts, but you’re saved from another interrogation by Namjoon’s unceremonious return to the table. He’s so flustered by his one-sided feud with the bartender that he slams the blue-green drink down a little too hard, spills half of it in Jeongguk’s lap. “Move over,” he says to you, and you cock an eyebrow in return. “Please,” he amends, like that’s what you’d been looking for, but when you still don’t move he gets a little whiny and panicked. “They’re relentless,” he says, pointing his thumb at Soyeon and Hyungseo like you can’t see them. “Don’t make me—”

“What about me!” Jeongguk wails, pressing his hands pathetically to his groin like he’s trying to stem bleeding, at the same time you roll your eyes and fire a, “Says Mr. Eight-gigabyte Porn Folder,” at Namjoon.

You receive another glare, this time from Namjoon, and he doesn’t hesitate to steal Jeongguk’s spot against the wall when he goes to the bathroom to deal with his soaked pants, only to start swearing when he realizes the seat is wet, too. “Jesus fuck—”

“That’s what you get.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon fires back. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

“Outside smoking.”

“Smok—why is he smoking?” At your silence, he jerks his head up, intent on getting an answer out of you. Instead, his question dies on his tongue as he follows your line of sight. Another new person in Taehyung’s lap, sucking Taehyung’s fingers into their mouth. “Ah, yeah. That fucking guy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Be nice, Namjoonie. You know Taehyung would hook up with a microwave if it gave him attention.”

“What number is that, then? Hasn’t he gotten enough attention?”

“Third I’ve seen. The first one was cute. I thought for sure he was gonna leave with her.”

Namjoon huffs, shakes his head. Takes a long pull of his beer. “He’s not gonna leave with anyone. He just does this to piss off hyung.” Then, like he’s coming to a realization, he turns to look at you with a quizzical look. “Wait, where’d Seokjin-hyung go?”

You stare back in disbelief. “How long were you at the fucking bar? He left hours ago.”

“Did he?” Then, quieter and to himself, “How long was I at the fucking bar?”

Whatever game Taehyung is playing, Yoongi is woefully inept at playing along.

Doesn’t know when it’s his move or when it’s time to sit and watch. Doesn’t know the rules. Doesn’t really listen when you try to explain it to him; probably doesn't want to hear it. Yoongi seems to think he’s at his best when he’s a little sad, a little miserable and yearning. At its core, that’s what the game is, and as much as he keeps touching the thorns to see if he’ll bleed, you know he still enjoys it.

(Know he gets off on it, too.)

Yoongi reaches for you. Steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder, pupils wide as saucers—dark dark dark in the corner of this grimy club—eventually breaking into a smile when you grab his sweat-slick hands and guide them to your waist. Your bodies move together like waves, pushing apart only for Yoongi to continuously pull you in closer, dazed from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, words impossible to hear over the music, “look at you. So fucking pretty.”

He threads a knee between your legs, the sound of his groan drowned out as you roll your hips against him. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know the rules to this game, but you do, and you make sure Taehyung’s watching when you drag your core against Yoongi’s thigh. He groans again, and his hands grip your hips tighter, moving you back and forth on him the way he does when you ride him.

You watch as he drags his eyes upward, see the exact moment he spots Taehyung across the club. His profile is lit up by the strobe lights, filling in the contours of his bone structure with greens and blues. He’s with Jimin and Hoseok now, dancing with the girl from earlier with the pink hair, her back pressed to his chest. He leans down and whispers recycled filth into her ear that she seems to buy. You watch as Yoongi closes his eyes tight; watch him pretend it’s Taehyung dancing with him; it’s Taehyung’s hips he’s gripping onto; it’s Taehyung who’s moaning and desperate for him in this moment.

You watch as his eyes snap open again.

You watch as he realizes he’s in this daydream alone.

And you wonder, briefly, if this should bother you. If this is fucked up, that Yoongi’s hard against you because he’s thinking about someone else, and you find that you don’t care. What you and Yoongi have doesn’t need to make sense to anyone except the two of you.

“Wanna go home,” Yoongi slurs into your ear, fucked up from the feel of you, the thought of Taehyung.

You smirk, tangle your hands in his hair and tug a little just to fuck him up even more. “Yeah? What d’you wanna go home for? It’s still pretty early.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he whines. Tries to hold you in place to grind harder against you and whines again when you move just out of reach. “Baby.”

“You know the rule.” There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down the side of Yoongi’s neck that you chase with your tongue. “Tell me what you actually want and we can leave.”

The breath he sucks in is harsh, fractured, like your question is a special kind of torture. You know it is. Unlike with Taehyung, this is a game both you and Yoongi know the rules to. Unlike with Taehyung, this is the game Yoongi plays to win. The song changes again, this time to something filthy and slow, and Yoongi fits himself to your back, moves until both of you are facing Taehyung. “Want you both,” he says into your ear. Nips at the lobe. “Want to watch you fuck him the way you fuck me.”

“Don’t wanna fuck him yourself?”

You feel him shake his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you doing, then? In this fantasy of yours?”

Yoongi presses closer, the outline of his hard cock pressing into the small of your back now. “Watching, at first. Wanna see you ruin him.” His hands skim along your skin, dip beneath the hemline of your shirt, dance across your stomach. “Wanna watch you make him fucking cry.”

“Are you telling me how?”

Yoongi’s laugh is low, a little caustic. “I won’t need to. He’s so fuckin’ easy.”

“And yet you want him this bad,” you taunt. “Someone easy like that—doesn’t seem to be your type.”

He bites along your neck. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not the one all fucked up over Kim Taehyung.” You make eye contact with the man in question. Watch as the look on his face fades into a smirk, syrupy and slow. Sleezy, you think. He probably is as easy as Yoongi says. “I should tell him how fucking hard you are. Should tell him you’re gonna take me home and fuck me and come thinking about him. That’s pretty fuckin’ dirty, Yoongi.”

It’s nothing you haven’t said before. Sometimes you press even harder, humiliate him a little when he seems to be in the mood for it, but this time he goes stock-still. Silence stretches between the two of you, the only people standing still on this dancefloor, and you’re halfway turned around to see if Yoongi wants to fuck or cry when he says, “Do it, then.”

You laugh. All part of the game. But then Yoongi grabs your hand, moves it to his cock, straining against his skin-tight jeans, some kind of message that’s gotten fucked up in translation. “Yoongi—”

“Tell him,” he says, expression shuttered and serious.

“You wanna think about this for more than ten seconds? You haven’t talked to him since the last time you guys hooked up and you want me to go tell him you… what? That you want to have some weird cuck threesome with him?”

That’s exactly what you told him.

(Because you know Yoongi, and you also know Taehyung. Your dig at him to Namjoon was very much based in truth, and with how fucked up the dynamics of your friend group are, it hadn’t taken much more than sending Yoongi out into the cold to order a taxi, swaying your hips a little, re-glossing your lips, and disposing of the girl with the bubblegum pink hair. No one had batted an eye.

“I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, leaning into Taehyung’s space. He was draped on the couch again, legs spread in a way that was frankly obscene. “Would you like to join us?”

“That depends, angel. How do you fuck him?” he asked, spreading his legs wider.

You stepped closer. Cupped his cheek, dug your nails into his skin a little, and said, “Better than you ever did,” all condescension.

Taehyung had just laughed. Pressed his tongue into the fat of his cheek. “I guess we’ll see about that.”)

And now you’re here, Taehyung sprawled on the bed beneath you. You can see why a sight like this would have Yoongi fucked up as long as he has been: Taehyung’s golden skin contrasting against the crisp white of the sheets, dark hair fanning against the pillows, curls falling into his eyes, chest heaving. Each time he throws his head back you’re torn between sinking your teeth into the column of his throat and wrapping your hands around it. It’s easy to ruin him when he looks like this; easy to give Yoongi what he wants.

“What should I do with you?” you think out loud, and Taehyung’s responding whimper draws a laugh out of you. “Yoongi wants to watch me fuck you,” you continue, hands teasing toward the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. You pinch, slap away the sting. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung’s cock—long and thick, still glistening with spit from when you sucked him off—twitches at the thought. “Y-yeah, fuck, want that,” he answers, hands moving to fist the sheets. He’s been so good. Has done exactly as you said. “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

“Should I fuck you the way you used to fuck your hyung?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi moan at the same time, and it’s so stupid, you think, this game they’ve been playing. Cat and mouse, as if the conclusion hasn’t been inevitable this whole time. “Use your words, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” he says again, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. “Y-yeah, like that.”

You hum, reach behind you for the bottle of lube. Yoongi mutters a quiet shit from the other side of the room and you glance over. Mouth hung open, lips wet; jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, the outline of his cock visible through his briefs, hand squeezing at the base. Cheating a little, but still not touching himself the way you know he wants to. He’ll be the first to cry, at this rate.

Eyes back on Taehyung. You wonder if he’d normally preen, put on a show. You wonder if he did that with Yoongi, some whole thing. “He’s told me about it, you know,” you say, clicking the lube open. Sounds more like a gunshot in the small space of your bedroom, where the only other sounds are labored breathing and the city outside. “Told me all about how you used to split him open with that big cock.” You tip the bottle sideways, let the lube dribble out and over Taehyung’s balls. He hisses at the cold, mutters a swear. “Told me he’d struggle to take it sometimes.”

“You two are—fuck.” Whatever Taehyung was going to say is cut off as your finger follows the lube, trails down to his hole. You circle it there, make sure it’s wet, press a little just to watch his hips jerk. “You two are fu-fucking weird.”

“Mm, maybe,” you concede, “but you should see how hard he comes when he’s thinking about you.”

You gather more lube on your finger, then, and press it inside. Just to the first knuckle, just enough to make Taehyung whine. “I guess you already know that, though,” you continue. Pour a little more lube on Taehyung’s skin. Pull your finger out enough to slicken it, push it back in a little further. “Was it good for you?”

His moan is broken and low, deep and heady. A sound that makes the world feel like it’s tilting; a sound that makes you want to chase it. “Yeah,” Taehyung answers, and it could be a response or a declaration when it’s followed by, “so fucking good.”

“Yoongi is good, isn’t he? He listens so well.” With your free hand, you grab Taehyung’s face roughly, turn his head in the direction of where Yoongi’s sitting. “Look at him,” you instruct. He already looks fucked-out. Cheeks flushed, breathing hard, knuckles white where he’s gripping onto the arm of the chair. “Look at how good he’s being, not even touching himself.”

And Taehyung… Taehyung almost looks ashamed. Won’t meet Yoongi’s gaze, now that they’re so close, now that it’s real, and this won’t do, will it, so you dig your nails in a little harder, drag them down his cheek, tell him again to look at his hyung. Then—

For the first time all night, their eyes meet at the same time.

Yoongi’s whimper is loud. The loudest you’ve ever heard him outside of actual sex. You work in a second finger alongside the first, build up a steady rhythm, and Taehyung isn’t faring much better. Little by little he opens up for you and you’re thankful for the way he sucks you in, adjusts. It’s getting harder to ignore the heat between your own legs, watching two beautiful men fall apart in vastly different ways, even though you want to drag this out, want to make Taehyung cry and give Yoongi exactly what he wanted.

And, god, Taehyung is so fucking pretty.

You tell him as much, and his smile is greasy, looks even more lewd when you crook your fingers and his eyes roll back. He’s still tight around you when he asks for a third so you shake your head, tell him no, tell him he’s greedy, and you think people must not make him beg much, the way he’s pouting. Taehyung has a face that gets him whatever he wants and a cock to match, and you’d understood it before, why Yoongi couldn’t really let it go, but it’s different when it’s right in front of you, making a mess of your sheets.

“I must be going soft on you,” you tell him, working in another finger the next time he asks. “Yoongi wanted me to make you cry and here I am, giving you whatever you want. Maybe I should let him decide what you get.”

Taehyung shoots a hand out, grabs at your forearm. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, bordering on pleading. “Please. He’s still mad at me, won’ give me anything.”

A huff of breath escapes you. “He doesn’t look very mad to me. Looks like he could probably come on command if you told him to.” It’s not an exaggeration, not really; Yoongi is gone, looks like a stiff wind could have him spilling all over himself. “But maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You nail Taehyung’s prostate the next time you crook your fingers and he sobs. You do it again, then a third time. Precome oozes out of his cock, deepens the pool on his belly. You keep it up until tears pool on his waterline, until he’s reaching for you again, begging you to stop, words cracking as he tells you desperately that he’s going to come. “Angel, fuck, please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, all authority. “You’re not going to come, are you, because I haven’t told you to. Yoongi hasn’t told you to.”

The first frustrated tear streaks down Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out, forcing his hips flat to the bed, tries to force you to stop moving. But your rhythm is steady, confident, three fingers working with the space he’s left you, and it isn’t until you watch his balls tighten that they slow. Taehyung’s sweat-slick, looks even more golden under the amber lamplight, and it’s dizzying, the way the color shifts as his chest heaves with his ragged breaths.

There’s only enough time for you to slip your fingers out, grab the lube, slick up the strap-on that’s fastened around your hips, before you’re pressing the head against Taehyung’s hole, still dripping wet. “It’s so big,” you muse, grinning wickedly at the man beneath you, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit. What do you think, Yoongi? Is this how you used to feel?”

When you look over this time, Yoongi has his cock out, briefs tucked beneath his balls, stroking fast. Clicking your tongue, he looks up through half-lidded eyes, hand stilling immediately. His nod is almost imperceptible, too disoriented to answer, and you’ll give him this one. Won’t push it. What you will push, though—

“Shit.”

You’re not sure if it comes from Yoongi or Taehyung. It might’ve even come from you, because you’re transfixed, can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your stupid flesh-colored dildo disappearing into Taehyung’s body. Fucking greedy, you think, mostly at yourself, because if this sight is good you can only imagine what you’d see if you were watching his face. Brows furrowed, mouth pinched. A look not far off from that night in the club, the determination on his face as he fucked that girl with his fingers, uncaring who heard or saw.

But this is your show. Yoongi’s fantasy. Whatever girls—people—Taehyung has fucked in seedy clubs across Seoul are of little importance here. All that matters is the steady push of your hips, the slow roll once you’re fully buried, the pleasure that jolts through you when you’re able to grind a little against the toy, the way Taehyung thrashes against the sheets, incoherent as he babbles, stuck between more and too much.

“Okay?” you ask, hands skimming along his warm skin. Goosebumps trail in their wake, and you settle them on his thighs. Press them up and to the side as he nods, giving yourself more space, and Taehyung’s moan is loud, unabashed. His cock lies neglected against his stomach, begging you to reach out and grab it, stroke him, make him come too fast so you have another bruise to press on, some way to embarrass him.

But this is your show, Yoongi’s fantasy, and you don’t have to look because you can hear how close your boyfriend is to getting himself off. Can hear the way his breath hitches, can hear when his rhythm changes. Quicker, now. More insistent. If Taehyung looked over at him, it’d be all over, and you almost tell him to do that, too.

“Stop touching yourself,” you say to Yoongi. A second time when he disregards the first, too far gone, too close. “Yoongi.” He whines but he listens, shoves his fingers in his mouth to stem the urge, and Taehyung watches it all.

You’re still thrusting, thighs burning, sticky where they meet Taehyung’s, and it won’t be your lengthiest performance, that’s for sure. So you call Yoongi’s name again, beckon him over, and he hesitates, looks so unsure. But it’s so stupid, the way he and Taehyung dance around one another—and you know, you know Taehyung wouldn’t be shaking like this if it were just you, if Yoongi wasn’t in his head, wasn’t watching—so you’re insistent. “Come here,” you tell him, and you make sure your voice is spun sugar when you say it.

Yoongi listens. Stumbles over on unsteady legs, knees nearly buckling when he gets close enough to also watch the way the strap-on fucks into Taehyung’s hole, the way it stretches obscenely to accommodate it. “Baby.” He threads his hands into your hair and kisses you hard and messy. Taehyung moans beneath you so you know he’s watching, and you will your body to move faster, fuck him harder.

When Yoongi pulls back, it’s obvious. The longing in his eyes. “Tell him,” you say, and he looks caught-out, would almost look angry if he were capable of it. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? So tell him.”

“I—” He looks down at Taehyung again, meets his gaze again, and he must see something there you can’t, because all the hesitation is gone when he says, “I want to kiss you.”

And you know what it means.

Because that had been the rule between the two of them. No staying the night, no kissing. You know what it means for Yoongi to ask for that, what it’d mean if Taehyung allowed it, and it nearly cracks your heart in half that it’s the only thing he’s willing to ask for when his wants are endless when it comes to Taehyung.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung moans. “Fuck, hyung, yeah—yeah, c’mere, kiss me, please, fuck.”

Yoongi looks like he’s been punched in the gut. Looks overwhelmed, given this kind of permission, so he goes about it all wrong. Starts to kneel at the side of the bed before you tsk and grab him by his own hair. “Do it right,” you instruct.

He moans. Aborts whatever he was about to do and climbs over Taehyung on the bed, straddles him, fitting in between both of you perfectly, close enough for his cock to slot against Taehyung’s. They both moan, and their game had been so fucking stupid it sends a lick of anger through you. Yoongi ruts his hips once, twice, and then he’s leaning down and cupping Taehyung’s face and pressing his lips—still wet from you, still wearing your spit—to Taehyung’s.

And Taehyung comes immediately, nearly untouched. Spills all over himself with a loud, broken sob.

“Holy shit,” you say, hips slowing until they’re still. “Holy shit, that was fucking hot, what the fuck.”

Taehyung trembles in the comedown and Yoongi presses in closer, kisses him through it. Can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed. He’s still rutting, has Taehyung teetering on oversensitivity, so you grab Yoongi’s hips to slow him. “Careful, baby,” you say softly into his ear. Press a kiss to the nape of his neck. Give him a minute to back away from the ledge again and get himself under control, let Taehyung catch his breath. “Are you okay, Taehyung?” you ask, hands once again touching any of his skin you can find. You knead at the muscles in his calves.

There’s some garbled response. Something you think is supposed to sound like an affirmation. “Words, please.”

“Y-yeah,” comes his response.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, all right?” You press another kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, turn your attention to him. “Then we’ll finally give you what you want, yeah? Finally let you come.” A shiver runs up his spine and he nods weakly. “Can you prep yourself while I’m gone?” Another shaky nod. “Good boy. Gonna pull out now, Tae.”

You do so slowly. Taehyung hisses, sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hisses again when you replace the toy with your thumb, try to ease the discomfort of being so suddenly empty. With another kiss pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, you mumble an I love you into his hair, and then you’re gone.

There’s always been something about the way Yoongi touches himself.

Like the goal is more than simply getting off. Like there’s reverence in it, something beyond purpose. Yoongi touches himself the way other people drop to their knees at church and pray.

Sometimes it’s long and drawn out. Sometimes his hands skirt over every inch of his own skin before he finally brings them to his cock. Sometimes he rests on his haunches in the middle of the bed and angles himself toward the mirror and watches, his cheeks aflame the entire time because he’s embarrassed to see himself like that, three of his own fingers fucking himself, but the embarrassment almost feels just as good. Sometimes he has you beneath him, raining down praise as his fist works the length of his cock.

Sometimes he does it entirely wrong, like now.

Two pale, lube-slick fingers work in and out of his hole. His own, then, and not Taehyung’s. Just like you’d asked. You’re a little surprised, thought maybe Yoongi might panic and retreat with you gone, but they’re both where you’d left them. Taehyung’s talking all the while, saying god knows what in that deep timbre, and it’s straight up pornographic the way his large hands rest on the cheeks of Yoongi’s ass, pull them apart.

The damp cloth in your hand feels useless. Is useless, you think, because Yoongi had told you something, once, deep in the throes of another cerebral fantasy—

“I can’t believe I have to keep telling you this,” you say, and everything immediately goes still at the sound of your voice, “but do it right, Yoongi.”

Taehyung lifts his head, stares at you skeptically. Probably mirroring the look on Yoongi’s face that you aren’t privy to with his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” you continue, stalking closer. All eyes on you as you drop the cloth to the floor. “Are you clean?” you ask Taehyung, and he nods, expression still dubious.

And then you’re reaching between both of them, swiping your fingers through the mess of cum on Taehyung’s stomach, and he understands immediately. “Are you gon—fuuuck. Fucking christ.” The first swipe goes to Yoongi’s mouth, and there’s no hesitation as he sucks your fingers clean. Your free hand finds Yoongi’s, the one he’s working himself open with, and pulls it away. Replaces it with your own, your two longest fingers covered in the second swipe of Taehyung’s cum, and you fuck them in and out faster than Yoongi had been.

“Filthy,” Taehyung chokes out, clearly overwhelmed; another groan when Yoongi starts sucking at his neck, biting, claiming.

It’s primal, the way Taehyung reacts, the way Yoongi embeds himself under his skin, tries desperately to make a home there. Something permanent this time; or, at least, a home that won’t burn down like the last one. Won’t be reduced to a smoking heap of bitter ash. And you wonder, as you watch the way these two beautiful men fit together, if Taehyung will be holding the match or the key this time.

You press slow, open-mouthed kisses along the knots in Yoongi’s spine. Drizzle more lube on your fingers, work him open more. Whisper I know, baby, I know when he gets impatient and a little too demanding. Swap the condom on the strap-on and slick it up, just like last time, and then you’re pressing into Yoongi instead of Taehyung, the way you’ve done so many times before.

Everything is familiar and different: the drag, the pull, the noises spilling out of Yoongi’s mouth. Those staccato whines varied in pitch, sometimes drawn out and sometimes punched and short. This is what you know. This is your home, and you think, as Taehyung looks at Yoongi, so fucking endeared, as he gently cups his face, as he says—

“Hyung, you look so pretty. You’re doing so well, hyung, fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”

—you think your house might look nice with an addition. An extra space carved out only for Taehyung. A room where Yoongi can exist in endless adoration.

“Make yourself useful, Kim Taehyung.”

Because Taehyung listens. Because Taehyung is good in all the ways that Yoongi is good, and he doesn’t have to be told twice when the order deals in Yoongi’s pleasure. So all of you adjust until Yoongi’s on his hands and knees, gripping tightly onto the headboard, and Taehyung shuffles down the bed until he can get his mouth on Yoongi’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you say, and Taehyung moans at the praise, the vibrations making Yoongi gasp and jerk.

You know when you hit his prostate, too; know this is going to be over soon from the way he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and screams. You know it from the way he starts to shake. From the unintelligible filth that pours from his mouth as Taehyung swallows him all the way down. From the way he stutters out a, ba-baby, wha’bout you, gonna come like this, and you pet his hair, voice soft again when you say, this is for you, Yoongi, you can come, I know it’s so much.

There’s a final husky, drawn-out moan, and then there’s quiet.

Lucidity returns slowly.

The heat kicks on. A police siren wails in the distance, seven floors below you. You re-wet your cloth and do your best to clean the dried cum from Taehyung’s skin, your smile fond as he whines at the cold, tries to squirm away. Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, just collapses face-first onto the mattress and lets everyone fuss over him. Starts snoring a few minutes later, after you’ve pulled the duvet up to his ears and he’s tucked in and warm.

You move to the dresser. Pull out two t-shirts—oversized on you, tight in the shoulders on Taehyung—and clean underwear. And then you pause, because Taehyung’s already plucking his own clothes off the floor, already has his fucking socks and briefs on, and it’s… it doesn’t feel right, is the thing. Doesn’t feel like he should be leaving. Not tonight, maybe ever.

“Where are you going?” you ask, and you do a good job of keeping the hurt out, at sounding normal.

Taehyung doesn’t get it. Looks at you like you’re a little stupid and a lot crazy, because he looks at you, then at the world outside the window, and finally at Yoongi before answering. “I—leaving?”

“Why?”

Taehyung looks at you like you’re a lot stupid this time. “I don’t…” Pauses. Tries to sink into the floor to no avail. “Look, I think maybe this was a mistake? Hyung and I—I don’t think this is what he wants.”

“And how do you know what he wants?”

“Because we’re here,” he answers, anger seeping in. “Because I’m standing in your apartment. His girlfriend, and—”

You sigh. “If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I think it’d really hurt him if you left.” You leave off the again. It’s not your trauma to dredge up. Yoongi wouldn’t want you to, and that’s reason enough. “I would like it if you stayed, if that means anything.”

“The two of you are fucking weird,” he says again, but he looks less torn. Looks less like he would plow you over to get to the door, and it’s… progress. It’s good. You can work with a halfway thing. “Hyung would really—you think he wants me here?”

It’s spoken about in the way a broken thing always is: delicately, hesitantly, like Taehyung’s afraid of the answer, afraid to find out the results of this stupid game of his own design. “He does. It’s not my place to say much more than that, but I think the two of you are overdue for a conversation, if nothing else.”

Taehyung nods. Starts looking less and less like he’s out of place; starts looking like object permanence, takes a corporeal form within the four walls of your bedroom. “There’s space here for you,” you say, with the amount of care words like these require, “if you want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. Nothing has to be decided right now, but I know Yoongi. You know him, too. I just don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Taehyung nods again. Peels his socks off. “You’re sure?” he asks, and when you nod, he climbs back into bed, seems to somehow know which side of the bed is Yoongi’s, two magnets drawn together. Something inevitable.

You breathe out a sigh. Finally slip the t-shirt and underwear on. Flick the lamp off and let yourself have a minute to enjoy the calm, Yoongi’s body heat next to you, still snoring softly between you and Taehyung. And then, because you can’t resist—

“You two are really fucking stupid, you know that?”

You hear Taehyung swallow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding the part of a scolded child, and as much as you try not to, you’re smiling again, fond and endeared, into the dark. “I know.”

“Okay. Go to sleep, Tae. I expect a very nice thank you gift in the morning.”

It doesn’t happen in the morning. Not really.

It happens sometime in the middle of the night. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains gives away nothing more than silver-amber light, the moon and the city. Could be minutes since you fell asleep, could be hours; all you know is Yoongi’s at your back, arm slung possessively over your middle, and his heat is stifling.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, because it’s not just his heat. He’s hard again, cock pressing against the swell of your ass just like it was in the club, and you feel him smile against your neck when he realizes you’re awake. Feel him rock his hips, just a little.

He nips at your lobe, your jaw. “Hi, baby,” he says, like this is just another morning. Like he’s about to present your favorite mug to you, coffee fixed exactly how you like it. “Why didn’ you wake me up?”

“For what?” you breathe out, voice already wavering. All Yoongi has done is skim his warm hands under your oversized t-shirt, swirl a finger around your navel.

Yoongi tuts. Feels weird to be on this side of it, the illusion of condescension. “To fuck you. Make you come. You didn’t earlier.”

“I meant what I said—”

“I know you did,” Yoongi interjects, “but I don’t find that to be a very acceptable excuse.”

You roll your eyes, no heat in it, but then Yoongi’s hand moves to the hem of your underwear and slips inside. Your hips jerk when he moves two fingers lightly over your clit, jerk again when he finds you already wet and groans deep and husky into your ear. And it’s not loud, but it’s loud for this room at whatever-the-fuck time it is. “Gotta be quiet,” you whisper to him, and he laughs, thinks you’re joking. “I’m serious,” you say, and you want to sound authoritative but it comes out as a whine when he sinks those fingers into your cunt.

“Why would I need to be quiet?” he asks. Crooks them as best he can from this weird angle, you on your side with your back pressed to him, Yoongi halfway on top of you. “Shouldn’t I be loud?” He hits a spot that whites your vision. “Shouldn’t everyone in this fucking place hear it?”

Usually you wouldn’t care. Your apartment building has heard worse, including whatever debauchery the three of you had gotten up to mere hours ago, but—“Taehyung’s asleep.”

Yoongi startles, goes still. “What?”

“What.”

“What d’you mean Taehyung’s asl…” You feel him turn. Feel him realize, for the first time, that there is a very-asleep Taehyung on his other side, and you want to ask how he hadn’t noticed before, want to say didn’t you realize how cramped this bed is, it’s not big enough for three people, we’ll have to get a new one, but. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t expected it to even be an option, so of course it would’ve been a blind spot.

Your heart cracks in half again.

“What’d you say to him?” he asks. Not accusing, almost awed, like you knew a code, the secret passcode to getting Taehyung to stay that Yoongi hadn’t had before.

You reach back, find Yoongi’s hair. Scratch gently at his scalp. “Just that I thought you’d like it if he stayed. That’s it, nothing else. I wouldn’t.”

“I know, I wasn’t…” He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, lets it go. He’s okay. “This is okay with you?”

A laugh spills out of you. “You’re asking me that now? I was nearly fist-deep in his ass a few hours ago but him sleeping in our bed is crossing some kind of line?”

“Sex can be different,” Yoongi argues, “and it’s me, you know, like it’s my hangup, not yours—”

“I want you to be happy,” you answer honestly. “Whatever that looks like. I told him there’s room for him here if he wants it, but they’re not my knots to untangle. If he wants to stick around, if you two can get your shit together… we’ll figure it out. It only needs to make sense to us.”

Silence. Then—“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life,” Yoongi groans. “Jesus Christ.”

“I should’ve known hyung was the type to get a boner from open and honest communication.”

Yoongi startles again at the low rasp of Taehyung’s voice. “And that’s exactly why I said I fuck him better than you,” you fire at him, deadpan. He laughs. You don’t have to look at Yoongi to know how red he’s turned.

“You said that to him?” he chokes out, all mortified disbelief, at the same time Taehyung says, “Maybe you’ve got a point, angel.”

The mattress sinks under Taehyung’s weight as he shuffles closer to the two of you. Must touch Yoongi somehow, because there’s a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat, so loud in your ear, has heat coursing through you. “Finish what you started, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi’s nod is jerky, his hands uncoordinated under Taehyung’s watchful stare.

Yoongi moves over you fully, wastes no time before he’s working his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, sucking at your skin. Taehyung groans quietly, doesn’t need to be told a goddamn thing; rids you of your shirt so Yoongi can mouth his way from your jaw to your neck, collarbones to chest, one nipple and then the next. Pleasure licks up your spine, outweighs how overwhelming it is to have Yoongi this geared-up, wound this tight; to have Taehyung’s hands roaming over every inch of skin his hyung doesn’t have his mouth on.

“Yoo-Yoongi,” you choke out, because this has really gone from zero to a hundred and he’s been pressing incessantly on your g-spot for too long to remain unaffected.

It’s building, building, building, and you’ve fully lost control of your hips, grinding against the heel of Yoongi’s palm like you’re desperate for it. (You are.) And Taehyung just laughs darkly, says, “Think she’s gonna come, hyung,” just to get under your skin.

“Mm, yeah. Might make a mess.” He slaps at your clit and that’s it, that’s what does it.

And Yoongi knows you, doesn’t he, because he knows how you like to get fucked. Knows to click his tongue at you, give you that disappointed look; knows to wipe your release on your thighs. Knows to barely let you catch your breath before he’s slipping on a condom and pushing inside of you.

After his fingers, the stretch from his cock feels dizzying. Feels on the edge of too much, and Taehyung’s commentary is doing fuck-all to help you come back to earth. Keeps saying shit like goddamn, hyung, yeah, fuck her like that. Maneuvers you so your back is pressed to his chest, now, your head on his shoulder, so Yoongi can slip his tongue into Taehyung’s mouth while he ruins you. It’s filthy, it’s so fucking filthy, and you think, selfishly, that a room won’t be big enough. You’d build Taehyung an entire goddamn house to keep it like this, to keep the three of you safe in this bubble.

“Imagine, hyung,” Taehyung starts, and you know what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nasty. Yoongi knows it, too, eyes starting to go glassy. A million constellations reflected as he looks at the two of you. “If we fucked her at the same time. Both of us in that tight pussy. Our cocks togeth—”

You’re not sure if the deafening moan comes from you or Yoongi. Either way, his hips falter, cadence reduced to stuttered thrusts as he tries desperately not to come just from Taehyung spewing more filth out of his devilish mouth. But you want to see it. Want to see what happens when he’s pushed to the brink of horny delirium, so you say—

“Do it.”

—and Yoongi has to stop altogether. Grips your hips so hard you know they’ll bruise, and you think, for a second, that he actually did come. Everything is quiet for a second, just more labored breathing, and then Yoongi picks his head up. Looks more fucked-out than you’ve ever seen him, even more than earlier, and looks straight at Taehyung.

“Put your fingers in her.”

Taehyung breathes harshly through his nose. Waits for you to nod, give him the okay, and then his hands leave your hair and skim down your body. They’re so warm, so large, cover so much skin that it truly feels like he’s everywhere, like it’s more than just him touching you. The closer he nears to your cunt, the more overpowering it is, the harder it is to breathe.

“Is this what you want, angel?” he asks, words warm on your skin as he presses them just below your ear. “You’re a greedy girl, getting hyung’s cock and my fingers.” He rubs circles into your clit, sends you spiraling. You’re dangerously close to a second orgasm (could be a third, could be a hundredth, considering Yoongi never let you come down from the first) and there’s a split-second right before he dips his fingers into your cunt, works them in alongside Yoongi’s cock, that you feel engulfed.

Everything is on fire.

You, most of all.

Taehyung sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets ‘em wet, works in slowly. Just his middle finger at first, and Yoongi falters again, moans out an oh fuuuck that betrays exactly how far gone he is. And you aren’t far behind, the stretch from both of them unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can’t imagine how it’d feel if it was more than just Taehyung’s fingers, except you can, and Taehyung notices when the thought has you clenching, has you a little wetter, because he laughs at you, tells Yoongi like he can’t tell on his own. Like your boyfriend is a little dumb, like he’s never fucked you before, and that does something to both of you.

One finger turns into two. Yoongi’s a fucking mess, absolutely gone of the feel of them inside you, against his cock, can’t stop moaning. The tight fit has Taehyung’s fingers pressed snug against your g-spot, exactly how Yoongi’s had been, and it’s too much. Too much.

“I’m, fuck—I’m gonna—”

When you come it feels like the end of the world. It feels like rapture. It feels like every atom in your body has been rearranged, like the gods themselves are rewarding you specifically with the sound of Yoongi following right behind you, moaning low and ragged, spilling into the condom.

In the comedown, he kisses you—soft, tender, with every iota of love and affection contained in him. “I love you,” he says. Presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. “Give me three to five business days to decide.”

Yoongi’s smile is shy, almost embarrassed. More gums than anything else. Behind you, the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter against your back, rattling your ribs. Rattling your heart, maybe, lodged safely between them.

It expands, makes more room—the one for Taehyung, that house—and Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s next and you know it’ll be okay. These two stupid boys, they’ll figure it out, put a cease fire to their foolish game.

Yeah, something inevitable.

as always, thank you for reading! my inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. i’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

[kithtaehyung]

three tangerines (m) | myg | masterlist

series:three tangerines  pairing: fuckboy!yoongi x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au ; angst, smut summary: “when yoongi told you he would be there if you needed anything, this isn’t what he had in mind” warnings: stated in each installment. minors dni. mood:moonlight, 28, people - agust d by readers:inspo | playlist mlist: created 2022/01/04 wanna read in chronological order?:click here status: ongoing 

🍊 parts 

⇥ three tangerines smut ; 12k ⇥ fireworks angst ; 4.1k ⇥ house party angst ; 10k  ⇥ basketball angst , smut ; 14k ⇥ stay fluff , smut ; 18.6k ⇥ sidewalk talkangst , fluff ; 2.6k  ⇥ friends angst , fluff , smut ; 15.6k  ⇥ dalo angst , smut ; 15k ⇥ like that angst , fluff , smut ; 6.5k ⇥ anytime angst , fluff , smut ; 16k ⇥ sundress seasonfluff ; 4.8k  ⇥ yoongi’s interlude: dal segno angst ; 9.7k ⇥ forfeit angst , fluff, smut ; 22.6k  ⇥ flutter fluff , smut ; 6.3k ⇥ ??? ??? ; ???

🍊extras 

⇥ all extras ⇥ 3tanslices (mini scenarios based on random asks!)  ⇥ Fall (Everything) Series (autumn drabble series 100% based on reader submissions!) ⇥ audio commentary!  episodes: three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime ⇥ ask/tell 3tan (requests: currently closed)  reader | yoongi | brother | jimin | taehyung  ⇥ val3ntans 2022! them<3 | reader | yoongi | brother | jimin | taehyung ⇥ ask/tell 3tan 2 (requests: currently closed)  reader | yoongi | brother | jimin | taehyung | jungkook | dom | reia | yuri ⇥ drabbles (requests: currently closed)  fireworks (yoongi pov): kitchen | countdown | balcony  truth | dare | on purpose | you’re going out in that? basketball (tae’s pov): this makes sense now dalo (dom’s pov): what the…? ⇥ playlists  pov: ur in yoongi’s car pov: ur in a house party & catch him looking pov: dalo ⇥ asks chapters: 3tan | 3tanF | 3tan3 | 3tan4 | 3tan5 | 3tanS | 3tan6 | 3tan7 | 3tan7.5 | 3tan8 | 3tan8.5 | 3tanDS | 3tan9 | 3tan9.5 characters: them<3 | reader | yoongi | brother | jimin | taehyung | jungkook | dom | yuri | reia | bros | siblings | friends | yoonmin | yoonkook | vmin | vmindom | all   general: theories | tangerines | playlist | hall of fame 

🍊taglist ; feedback 

 taglist (18+ only):  ⇥ anonymous form, no emails collected ⇥ optional teaser with every upcoming update  ⇥ HERE feedback box: ⇥ anonymous form, no emails collected ⇥ any feedback you’d like to give/say/yell! ⇥ HERE other links:masterlist

[venusiangguk]

the art of craving | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, pwp, a lil bit of fluff

>>word count: 6.9k

>>warnings: the domesticity… sob sob, the cutest baby… sob sob, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, all that good dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank you, oral (m), videotaping, sexual tension, balls in face, covering of mouth (?), a lil bit of external prostate stim bc jk deserves it 😌, dirty talk, creampie,  sex in someone else’s house (? again), omg almost all members are dad’s 🥲, so many dilfs hhhh, hobi being out of pocket, questionable breakfast in bed 👍🏻

>>notes: HE’S BACK!! also i knocked this out in one day, so I’m sorry for mistakes or if it falls short, i tried to do dilf jk justice 🤧 

>>summary: jk takes you to a bbq at his friends house. the tri-tip is good but the creampie is even better.

series masterlist, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

Keep reading

[venusiangguk]

the art of craving | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, pwp, a lil bit of fluff

>>word count: 6.9k

>>warnings: the domesticity… sob sob, the cutest baby… sob sob, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, all that good dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank you, oral (m), videotaping, sexual tension, balls in face, covering of mouth (?), a lil bit of external prostate stim bc jk deserves it 😌, dirty talk, creampie,  sex in someone else’s house (? again), omg almost all members are dad’s 🥲, so many dilfs hhhh, hobi being out of pocket, questionable breakfast in bed 👍🏻

>>notes: HE’S BACK!! also i knocked this out in one day, so I’m sorry for mistakes or if it falls short, i tried to do dilf jk justice 🤧 

>>summary: jk takes you to a bbq at his friends house. the tri-tip is good but the creampie is even better.

series masterlist, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

Keep reading

[venusiangguk]

the art of craving | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, pwp, a lil bit of fluff

>>word count: 6.9k

>>warnings: the domesticity… sob sob, the cutest baby… sob sob, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, all that good dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank you, oral (m), videotaping, sexual tension, balls in face, covering of mouth (?), a lil bit of external prostate stim bc jk deserves it 😌, dirty talk, creampie,  sex in someone else’s house (? again), omg almost all members are dad’s 🥲, so many dilfs hhhh, hobi being out of pocket, questionable breakfast in bed 👍🏻

>>notes: HE’S BACK!! also i knocked this out in one day, so I’m sorry for mistakes or if it falls short, i tried to do dilf jk justice 🤧 

>>summary: jk takes you to a bbq at his friends house. the tri-tip is good but the creampie is even better.

series masterlist, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

Keep reading

[venusiangguk]

dilf jk: series masterlist

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf jk x grocery store clerk oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fluff

>>status: on going

** snacks are drabbles that can be read as stand alones. they are not relevant to the plot. they are not written chronologically, but i order them as such as i go **

most recent work will be labeled: !! NEW !!

you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you

‎❥⁞ part one: the art of wanting - 10.3k words, (m)

‎you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you.

❥⁞ snack: the art of caring  - 4.7k words, (m)

‎jk picks you up after a fight with your roommates… he and nari are better company anyway!!

‎❥⁞ snack: gardening/pool day drabble - 1.2k words, (pg)

nari plays in the dirt while jk gardens and you make a bet

‎❥⁞ part two: the art of playing - 6.3k words, (m)

costumes are a must for jk’s work party… they come with the cutest heart-shaped cuffs… now what could they be used for?

❥⁞ part three: the art of craving - 6.9k words, (m)

‎jk takes you to a bbq at his friend’s house. the tri-tip is good but the creampie is even better.

❥⁞ snack: the art of waiting - 3.9k words, (m)‎ ‎ 

jk comes back from his business trip and he’s wearing new pjs… you must get his face between your legs.‎

❥⁞ part four: the art of doubting - 17k words, (m)‎ ‎ ‎

seeds of doubt are planted and unfortunately they grow faster than love. things with jk fall apart. 

❥⁞ part five: the art of yearning: pt 1 - 15.7k words, (m)  !! NEW !!

jungkook wants you as much as he misses you.

[venusiangguk]

the art of wanting | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, a lil bit of plot 

>>word count: 10.3k literally why cant i write anything short ever hhhh

>>warnings: cute baby!!!, jk being a good dad, he likes to garden :(, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, handjob, coming in pants, AYOOO OC GOT A FAT COOCHIE, lowkey body worship, fat coochie supremacy, oral (m/f), safe sex, sexual tension, praise, multiple orgasms, eye contact, jk likes to watch 🥴, asking for permission, jk’s lowkey controlling i guess but it’s soft and like not toxic lol, PLAYFUL use of the word ‘daddy’, no actual daddy kink 🙄, dirty talk

>>notes: idk what it is, but something about actual dads being called ‘daddy’ in a sexy way just does not sit right w me 😐 so i did not include the d word in any sexy context sry daddie luvers, maybe next time !! anyway! late vday one shot!! didn’t turn out as good as i wanted, but i still hope you enjoy! sorry for any mistakes; this is not beta’d lol ALSO ty to @moonb0yy​ for helping me with parts ilysm much bestie ur the best <3

>>summary: you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you.

series masterlist, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Keep reading

[rosiesmuts]

Jingle All the Way

BLACKPINK Lisa 1,600 words

A/N: Blame @friskyriskywhisky​ for this by sending me this as an ask. Quickie, no edits

This is the last smut for 2022. On the bright side, there should be at least two in Jan featuring idols I’ve never written before

“Hi Oppa! Long time no fuck!" 

A pleased smile breaks across your face. Lisa emerges from her bedroom, and granted your Christmas wish–watching her dance in that outfit at the concert drove you wild. 

"I’ve missed that ass Lisa. It’s been way too long.”

“Oh? You mean this little ol thing?”

Lisa turns around, twerking her way over to the couch, the metal plates jingling all the way. She’s right in front of you, untying a couple pieces of string. Her hips continue to twerk until each piece of clothing falls off her body, the sound of crashing metal hits the floor.

Keep reading

[rosiesmuts]

This isn't BLACKPINK, but damn Chaewon.

[axigailxo]

Teacher’s Pet | JJK (2)

—chapter two: establishments and boundaries

♡ ⟶series summary: Hooking up every so often with your English Literature professor, what's the worst that can happen? Falling in love, perhaps.

♡ ⟶pairing: professor/dilf!jungkook x student!reader

♡ ⟶genre: illicit/forbidden relationship au, college!au, sneaky link to lovers, age gap, smut

♡ ⟶word count: 6.3k

♡ ⟶chapter contains: jk comes over and explains his worries to oc, they adult for abt 2 seconds before: breast play, oral sex (m rec.), tit fucking?!??, jk rlyyy likes oc's boobs, jk being whipped what's new

♡ ⟶chapter summary: You and Jungkook establish, discuss, and test out your new sexual relationship. Of course not without setting a few obvious boundaries first.

this is part 2 of my new teachers pet series, not a stand-alone

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So many thoughts.

One thought after another, your brain simply could not put to rest what had happened between you and your professor in the lecture hall last week.

Every touch, every word exchanged, every feeling. You couldn’t stop thinking about any of it.

And with thinking comes second-guessing and doubt. You weren’t naive to the troubling sincerity that comes with fucking a teacher, you’re well aware of the consequences and (as contradicting as it may sound) the responsibility that it comes with.

It takes responsibility and maturity to sexually engage with someone who has such a risky occupation. The position you're putting him in, the secrecy you have to partake in, his career at your fingertips, your spot in the school at his fingertips. All of it is such a risk, and you’ve come to ask yourself if it’s really worth it.

It wasn’t until recently that you started to wonder and worry if you’re that desperate that you’ll put everything on the line for a hookup. Was that whole ‘humans tend to let their sexual charges get the best of them, it’s nature’ motto of yours even valid anymore?

But then you stop yourself from spiraling into such thoughts. It’s one thing to second guess, but it’s another to regret. And you don’t regret doing it, you really don’t.

You just wish it didn’t have to be so complex.

But ultimately, you both understood the complexity of engaging in a sexual relationship from the start, so second-guessing anything would be regretting in this case scenario.

So with that being said, you also wish that you would’ve given yourself just a little more time to think over your choices before texting Jungkook back and telling him that yes, he can come over tonight.

That brings you to now, lighter in hand as you burn yourself a bit trying to light your favorite vanilla-scented candle before placing it down onto the small coffee table of your even smaller apartment.

Half of you would be embarrassed for him to see your small studio apartment if the other half weren’t aware that you are a college student after all and he’ll most likely understand your circumstances.

Pacing to the kitchen, you tuck any forgotten dishes into the dishwasher, straightening up the apartment that you’ve already cleaned five times tonight.

What? You’re nervous, that’s all.

When Jungkook called you this afternoon, you originally didn’t answer as it was an unknown number and you completely forgot that you wrote yours down for him last week.

So when the unknown number texted “hello again…” your heart nearly stopped in realization and excitement and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t smile a little too wide at the simple text.

And because it was texting rather than audibly speaking, you were able to converse a whole lot better and it wasn’t long until he asked if it’d be okay for him to come over.

However, it wasn’t for the reason you’d hoped.

“I was hoping to discuss last week's ‘events’ in a broader context. There’s a lot we need to talk about.” This wasn’t what you were expecting him to reply with after sending your address, but that it was.

And you hate to say it, but his word choice alone reminded you of the drastic age gap between the two of you. And with that reminder, you opened your eyes a bit and realized that a proper discussion about it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

You replied with just a thumbs up, not really overthinking what to send because he is much older and doesn’t care nor notice your damn emojis or word choice.

Collapsing onto your freshly fluffed couch, you run your hands over your face and let yourself just breathe for the first time tonight. Whether it was all the cleaning or the overthinking, you feel the exhaustion catching up to you.

That is until the knock on your door sends you straight back into that frantic, fully alerted state.

It’s almost embarrassing how you practically run to go answer it, but when you open that door you have no time to critique yourself as you’re in too much awe of him.

Before you stands a smiling Jungkook, usual black chinos, and in replacement of what’s usually a button-down is a baggy black hoodie covering his toned body. For some reason, maybe the unfamiliar yet casual attire, he’s even hotter than you remembered him to be. His shoulders are broad beneath the thick material of the hoodie and his thighs are just as thick beneath the hopeless material of his chinos. You internally scold yourself for letting that wave land itself right at your entrance because you know that this visit is strictly just for conversation.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” He greets with a polite grin dancing on his features.

“Mr. Jeon.” You greet back to the best of your abilities, your mouth feeling so dry all of a sudden.

You swear his eyes dilate every time you call him that, but you don’t let yourself think too much of it. ‘Strictly conversation’, you remind yourself.

“Please, I already said you can call me Jungkook.”

You know he’s only trying to be polite, but the opportunity to banter with him is too prominent to pass on.

“And I said to call me Y/N.”

He lets out an airy laugh, his head tilting to the side in faux confusion.

“Did you though?”

Well, he does have a point.

“No…” you utter in realization, the feeling of stupidity drenching you. “Sorry.”

He shoos his hand in the air, gesturing to forget about it. “It’s okay.” You hate yourself for adoring his kind smile. “May I come in, Y/N?”

You don’t speak, standing aside and opening the door wider instead. And as he lets himself in, you feel like dying as he looks around the apartment.

“Nice pl —”

“Don’t lie.” You interrupt, using the brief second where his back was towards you to close the front door and pull yourself together. This man fucked you into oblivion, there’s no need to be awkward now.

“Want water? Or like… wine? I don’t know if you drink, but I have some cheap red if you want.”

He stops glancing around the apartment at your words, turning towards you as you navigate to the kitchen and open the fridge.

“Water is great, thank you.”

Cringing at yourself further, you squeeze your eyes shut in replacement of face palming as you crouch down in the fridge to get him his water.

You don’t say much as you dig around for a water bottle in one of the fridge drawers, and it’s not until you feel a gust of wind channeling from the ac vent that you realize you’re bending down right in front of him with no pants on. You stand abruptly, tugging your oversized t-shirt down to cover your panties. You hope he didn’t notice, but then you turn around.

Mouth opened and only closing when you make eye contact, he awkwardly clears his throat as he adverts his eyes to his feet.

“I —”

“It’s fine.” You interrupt. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

It’s relieving when he laughs at your attempt at a joke, a small giggle of your own escaping. Handing him the water bottle, you head for the couch.

You made mental note to sit as close to the edge as possible, leaving him plenty of space and saving yourself fewer chances of turning the conversation into something more.

“You can sit.” You softly tell him, eyes nodding to the empty space.

He follows and it’s not until he sits down that you remember that he’s here to discuss something that’s so difficult to discuss. But it’s important, and so that’s why you should just get it over with.

You're prepared for anything. Maybe he just wants to see if you haven’t told anyone. That you won’t tell anyone. Or perhaps he might call his original offer off completely, and you get it. You’re wishing to god that it’s not that, but in case it is, you’re prepared.

It’s not crazy for a professor in his late twenties to want to… gee, I don’t know, not fuck his twenty-one-year-old student?

“So, I —”

“Listen, I —”

You both go silent upon talking at the same time, and you quite literally bite your lip as you nod your head in encouragement for him to go first. He takes a sip of his water before leaning over and placing the bottle on the coffee table.

“Sorry.” He says with a smile. “So, I uh… I just wanted to go over the… basics? Or rather the establishment that we should probably make first.”

He waits for you to respond, but you don’t really know what you can respond to that so you hesitantly tell him to continue.

“So, I don’t know if you remember, but last week I implied that I wanted to see you again.”

Here it comes.

“I believe the words were ‘this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing’.” You don’t know why you felt the need to remind him what he probably remembered, but you did and now you’re waiting for him to tell you how he wants to take back his offer and never see you agai—

“I still think that.”

He, to your complete surprise, assures you.

“But with that establishment comes boundaries and rules that we should probably make.”

You hate yourself for overthinking something so wrong for no reason, but at the same time, the relief is pretty great. You told yourself you were prepared to hear him call it off, but now that you know that’s not in his plans, you can’t imagine what you would’ve felt if it were the truth.

“Of course.” You say in a confident tone to make him believe you already knew that. “Like what?”

He exhales deeply, sitting back against the couch.

You weren’t the only one fretting. Jungkook was too, but for a completely different reason. He thought that you might’ve changed your mind about ‘seeing him’ again. So when he realized that wasn’t the case and that you were potentially thinking the same about him, he felt incredibly relieved to find out you both wanted it still.

Now that you’re on the same page, you can discuss those boundaries.

“Well to go over the obvious, I’m not gonna tell anyone or like… gossip?” You speak first as Jungkook is silent in thought. You adjust your body to face him completely.

Jungkook wants to laugh at your words but he won’t. This is an adult conversation.

“I know, I wasn’t really worried about that.”

You tilt your head to the side, confused. You were certain that he, as your professor, would at least be concerned over the idea of you telling someone. He can’t possibly trust you so soon. Not that you were planning on telling anyone, because keep in mind your enrollment is on the line as well, but it still surprises you that he didn’t think about that. Upon his lack of elaboration, you once again urge him to continue.

“It’s just that you don’t have many friends, baby.”

Well damn.

You know he’s right, so you won’t argue it. And you want to be offended, but instead, you find yourself almost getting giddy at the fact that he noticed. He noticed how you would shy away in group projects. How you would avoid eye contact with the other students. How you live alone. And how the only person you’ve ever willingly struck a conversation with in class was him. Even though it was simply academic-related at first.

You also feel yourself lift up to the moon at the pet name, but you try not to pay much attention to it as he probably didn’t mean it like that.

“Hey!” You nudge his arm, earning a playful giggle from him. He grabs onto your wrist when you lightly hit his chest, and before he could let himself get lost in the idea of touching you further, he lets go and clears his throat.

You noticed, but you speak to distract yourself from feeling upset over something so small.

“Okay, then what are you worried about?”

“Privacy is my biggest concern if I’m being honest. We should be a little more discreet, so that means no more staring in class. That goes for the both of us.” He gives you a pointed look anyways.

“And we also need to be in more private places when we… indulge.”

You cackle at his choice of word and he playfully sends you a scolding look to which you cover your mouth to refrain from laughing anymore.

“Okay, okay. No more staring or ‘indulging’ on campus, got it.”

He scolds you again, and when you giggle in response he starts to tickle your sides until you're wheezing for him to stop.

Doubling over onto him, your fists are balled against his chest, and you're smiling so hard as you laugh that your cheeks begin to ache. Jungkook is smiling just as wide, but not because he’s laughing. He’s realizing how simple the moment is yet how good and right it feels to make you happy. His smile starts to fade as he questions the universe for making this affiliation so not right. A teacher shouldn’t feel this “good” for making his student happy, and he hates that. He hates the reality of that underlying feeling in him just as much.

Grabbing your wrists, he guides you out of the crook of his neck and your laughing fit tames down as you look into his eyes, close in proximity but you can easily decipher the sad look in his eyes.

“There’s one last thing I wanted to talk about…” He starts, and you glance back and forth between his eyes as you try to resist overthinking and jumping to the worst conclusions.

“If at any point you start to doubt this and don’t want to do it anymore, I want you to tell me, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck or that you owe me. I’d never tell anyone either, especially not the board, so don’t even worry about that. I just need you to promise me that one thing.”

His voice is soft but stern, words hitting incredibly deep. Or maybe not his words, but the sincerity that comes with it. You can tell he’s adamant about your thoughts and what you want. And it breaks your heart in the best way possible.

“I promise.” You whisper, hoping he sees the same sincerity in your eyes.

He does.

Smiling softly, Jungkook lowers your wrists that he’s still holding onto, and your eyes flick down to his lips.

“That’s all I needed to say,” he whispers back, eyes flicking down to your lips as well.

“Did you have anything you wanted to add?”

You hum no.

“I think we covered everything, we just gotta be careful and cautious.” Your voice is soft and he can feel your light breath against his lips, and he’s using every vessel in him to not kiss you right now.

You know that it's not so simple to where briefly discussing is going to stop you from doubting time to time in the future, and he knows that he’ll most likely be doing that as well. But with this circumstance, doubting is inevitable. But as long as you both want to, you’ll do it until one of you don’t. So you figure that you shouldn’t waste a second if this ‘thing’ between you two is only temporary.

So yes, you did cover everything with him, and now is the time to stop talking and do that certain activity that you both are suddenly craving.

“Is it time to indulge?” You tease, and he can’t help but laugh this time.

As his chuckle tames down, he hums an “mhm.”

Jungkook didn’t think you’d be so understanding and you didn’t think his list of establishments and boundaries would be so short. Neither of you expected this conversation to be so brief, and only now you’re both realizing how you’re alone together and have the whole night to do anything but talk.

It was you that met his lips first, relishing in the taste of him that you missed so much this past week. He melts into it, the feeling mutual.

He releases your writs and uses one hand to cup your cheek, the other on your waist. His tongue makes its appearance against yours and you eagerly taste him further as you let both of your hands rest over his.

You grind against nothing as you whimper into the kiss, and his breathing escalates when you guide his hands straight to your chest. More specifically, your breasts.

The only thing in between you and his direct touch is the thin fabric of your t-shirt, and he shivers as he feels your erect nipple against his palm. He gently squeezes, and when you moan so does he.

Jungkook is a gentleman so he’d never admit this, but he’s always had such a thing for your chest. It’s full and so large and he’s had so many fantasies about it. You can feel the way he’s losing control of his senses, melting as he continues to toy with your breasts.

“Do you like them?” You ask in a slight giggle against his lips before rejoining his kiss, not expecting that he’d enjoy it that much.

He hums a yes again, except this time it’s higher and pitch and has a pleading undertone. You give in to it, breaking the kiss completely and guiding his hands off of you as you quickly pull your shirt up and off your body.

You bite your lip as you watch Jungkook stare intently before resuming his contact against them, and this time his touch is softer. He gently cups them, using his thumb to flick at your nipples before gently rolling them between his fingertips and you hum out a moan, thoughtlessly bringing your small hand to the large bulge in his pants.

He’s incredibly hard, as you had imagined, and he hisses through his teeth upon feeling you on him.

“So hard…” You note aloud, palming him gently as his grip on your breasts begins to get weaker and weaker.

You were waiting for that switch of his to flip, to take over and leave you aching in the most excruciating yet exhilarating way possible. And so when he continued to groan weakly at your palming, you knew you had to urge it out of him.

“C-can I taste you?”

Jungkook’s eyes shoot open, steady on yours as he examines your features to see if you really said that or if he was just hearing things.

“I didn’t get the chance to last time, and… I want to show you how I am on my best behavior.”

And there’s that spark in his darkened eyes.

“Yeah?” he asks in a whisper, voice low and breathy. “You want to suck my dick, baby?”

You nod pathetically, whining under your breath to show just how badly you want that. A smirk grows on his lips.

“Do it then, suck me. Wanna see it in your mouth.”

You inhale at his words, the constant wave in you circling at each of his words and touches, landing itself at your core each time.

You transition yourself to sit on your knees while still beside him on the couch, hands slowly trailing to the hem of his hoodie. He sees what you're trying to do and takes it upon himself to pull the heavy material off of his top half, revealing a sight you’ve always wished to see.

You see each ridge of his toned upper body that you would only see vaguely of all those times hidden beneath his daily attire of a button-down. But now it’s off, and for your eyes to take in, all while he waits for you to touch him.

All of it is so overwhelming, but the good kind.

“Lay back.” Your voice is nowhere near authoritative and it would've been funny to hear you attempt that, but you knew better and settled with your polite, small voice.

He does as instructed, positioning himself sideways before reclining flat onto his back, head resting on the couch’s armrest. His legs are spread wide enough to fit you between them, and so you position yourself to be sat on your knees in front of him. His legs act as a barricade of some sort as they’re on either side of you.

“Ready?” You ask, more to yourself than to him, suddenly nervous to proceed.

You look up to find him with his hands behind his head, eyes already fixated on your breasts before flicking them up to meet yours.

“Go on, baby.”

Palm flat on his lower stomach, fingers just poking into the material of his waistband, you take one last deep breath before your hand is hidden completely underneath his pants- trailing right down to that familiar bulge of his.

His reaction isn’t too wild yet, as all you can notice so far is his breathing faltering the slightest. Eager to see him react more, you enhance your palming by stroking him through the fabric of his briefs.

Your eyes never left his eyes, and you’re determined to keep it there as it’s more than assuring for you and hopefully for him as well.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

His words send a weird shock throughout your body, almost like you feel a little too bad for doing something wrong. But it wouldn’t be the first time his authoritativeness or presumed dominance sent you into such submissive instinct.

And you were ready to do as requested, but not without wringing out the little amount of stubbornness you had in you first.

“Why? You did it to me last time. I don’t see why I can’t.”

He sighs, and it could be interpreted in so many ways but what stands out the most is frustration.

“Because I’m telling you not to.”

His words are enough to prove exactly where you stand in terms of authority, and that’s below him.

One timid gulp, and before he knows it your hand is back out and unbuttoning his pesky pants.

Fiddling with the zipper, you manage to undo the hassle and your small fingers hook into his waistband before using most if not all of your strength to shimmy them down his thick thighs. His hips lift up just a bit to help make things easier, and once the fabric is bunched at his mid thighs he relaxes once again, comfortably breathing shallowly with hands behind his head, eyes curiously on your next moves.

You’re almost nervous to be faced with the monster that is him, both metaphorically and literally, as you know what to expect with his length and how he reacts when you stimulate said length. You’re nervous, but no more than you are eager.

Repeating the actions of hooking your fingers into his waistband, you tug his briefs down to meet with his pants, and you’re once again feeling your stomach whirlwind in so many different feelings when you see how his erection springs up to stand tall and proud against his lower stomach.

He notices the very vague whimper that escapes you, and he lets out an airy chuckle.

“You said you wanted to suck me. . . so do it.”

Your eyes flick to his once more for just a spec of assurance even though you’re well aware that sexual alter ego of his has taken over by now and any sign of assurance from him is hopeless.

“Y/N~” he coos, “wanna feel your mouth, baby. Can you let me feel it?”

You nod.

“Yeah? C’mon, make me feel it.” His tone is high in pitch, faux pleading as he nods his head in encouragement when your head begins to lower to meet him.

“Make me fucking feel it.”

Your plump lips, the ones he adores, meet his swollen head that twitches the slightest upon feeling you. He lets out a light moan but when you flatten the tip of your tongue against his slit, he hisses rather harshly.

“Yes, baby, just like that. Love your tongue on my cock.”

His praises give you a confidence boost and as the nerves slowly slip away you’re quicker to fully satisfy him.

Spitting onto his tip with your lips never having parted, you pull back a little to let it drip down before licking it all back up from his base up.

“Fuck, yeah. Mhm, make me feel it, baby.”

His new vocality surprises you a bit since you barely even started, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s been worked up this entire encounter that even the slightest bit of relief is enough to make him so reactant.

And judging by the pool in between your legs, he hasn’t been the only one worked up since he came through those doors.

After reaching back to his tip with your tongue, you bring your eyes up to his before placing a sloppy peck on it. You see how his brows are furrowed, eyes just barely staying open.

He looks so needy and you honestly don’t believe you can handle your own temptation any longer.

Widening your kiss, your lips suction his girth tip into your mouth, and his hips involuntarily jerk when you sink down as far as you can take.

You’re disappointed to find out your mouth isn’t even covering half of him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, the back of his head digs further into the armrest.

Bringing a hand up to make up for the lack of contact, you stroke his base as you glide your mouth up and down his shaft.

“Baby,” he whines, eyes pinched shut by now.

You use your free hand to comfortingly stroke his outer thigh even though you’re sure he doesn’t care about those kinds of gestures, but per usual he contradicts you as he brings a hand down and places it lightly against yours, gently holding onto it.

You come up to breathe, dark eyes on his and he gives you an assuring nod that’s so small you almost think it’s a tic.

Sinking your mouth back down, his hips buck again but it’s harsher this time and provides you with more than you can take- tears immediately building at the corner of your eyes.

Judging from the way he intertwines your fingers in an apologetic way, you know he didn’t mean to do that on purpose.

And for some reason, every time he shows this soft side, you’re even more determined to just please him.

So with a rather risky idea, you pull off of his cock with a loud suction sound.

He notices the way you smile in excitement as you sit up, and his eyes flutter open fully. Watching you with his full attention, doe eyes at their widest, his heart stills in his chest when he sees you grab your breast- squishing them together.

“Y/N…”

You only bite your lip to refrain from a mischievous giggle, continuing with your plan as you crawl a little more up between his legs, doubling over so that your cleavage aligns with his harder-than-ever cock.

“Fuck yourself in between them,” you softly instruct, both hands on each breast as you’re pressing them together, angling it just above him as you wait for him to do the rest.

He probably could’ve released at your words alone, but then he wouldn’t have gotten to experience the opportunity given to him. More eager than ever, he grabs his swollen shaft and presses his tip into your cleavage, the sight alone making that craved knot in the pit of his stomach appear.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he thrusts his hips up, his cock being suffocated by the same breasts he’s always daydreamed about.

He’s only able to get in about three proper, stamina-fueled thrusts before his hips start to falter and his cock starts to become more and more sensitive.

Releasing your hands from your breasts, you bring them to his hips to guide him down, and you scoot back a little before stroking him again with your hand this time.

“Gonna cum?” You ask nonchalantly and with genuine wonder.

His breathing picks up as your hand absentmindedly goes faster, and he manages to let out a frantic yet calm “mhm.”

You see how much of a mess he looks, and you almost want to giggle in pride of your creation. Your lips join your hand's movement, and you're once again sucking him like your life depends on it.

“Fuck! Baby— I’m gonna…”

His desperation to cum triggers a possession of some sort into you as you find yourself removing your hand and sucking his full length despite the tears that come with it.

“Mm, yes baby,” he nearly cries out. “Make the big cock cum.”

Your blurred eyes land on his as you continue to bob your head up and down, no breathing whatsoever, and he nods profusely.

“Mhm,” he encourages. “Make me feel it over and over.”

You pull up only to spit onto his tip before sinking back down and continuing, and he lets out a sadistic chuckle.

“So fucking sexy.”

A hand blindly snakes down below his base, collecting his balls in your hand and softly massaging them as you occasionally gag around him.

That was just enough to make the spark in his stomach grow, and he’s panting as he guides a hand to tangle into your hair, guiding your head.

“Don’t stop, baby. Don’t fucking stop.”

You feel the tears as they stream warmly down your cheek, and he feels them too as they land on his thigh, resembling the determination you’re putting into him feeling good.

And that alone makes that wave crash over him, his mouth agape as he gently tugs your hair in signal to stop.

You align your pouted lips to his slit, eyes on him as his breath drains from his body, along with the white strings of pleasure.

His free hand comes out from beneath his hand and to his shaft, slowly stroking out any remains onto your lips.

And it’s not until his eyes finally open that he sees the picture he painted, his softening cock twitching- causing him to dryly whimper.

Your wide eyes are on his when you tuck your covered bottom lip into your mouth, licking him off of you and swallowing. You open your mouth to show him your now clear tongue as proof, and his cock once again jolts.

“C’mere,” he whispers, head falling back and hands reaching for your waist as you crawl up his body and look down at him with that notorious gleam of faux innocence in your eyes.

“Did so good for me.” His words are soft, breathing still unstable. “Thank you, Ms. Y/N.”

You can’t fight the smile that plays at your lips upon his statement, remembering how you said the same words last time. And the mere fact that he remembers sends a comforting blanket-like warmth over you as you reach down to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“You’re welcome. . . Jungkook.”

Lying in your bed, Jungkook embraces you tighter as you mindlessly trace his tattoos, eyes fluttering shut in tempting drowsiness every so often but you fight it to the best of your abilities.

After you took it upon yourself to clean him up with a rag, you both trailed off to your bed and he insisted to return the favor but you surprisingly declined, telling him to take his time and come down from his own high first.

“You have a lot of tattoos for a professor.”

And if it weren’t for your random statements every five minutes, he would’ve been convinced you are asleep.

As you lay on top of his chest, thigh over his and head nuzzled into his neck, his mind is clouded with nothing but you. And typically that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but he can’t seem to shake the lingering guilt he has from simply just thinking about you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks in mock offense and is glad to have a distraction from his troubling thoughts.

He smiles wide when you giggle.

“It’s just that you’re the only tattooed professor that I've ever had.”

Professor. He hates how badly he dislikes being reminded of that title, and he hates the fact that he wishes to be called something else even more.

And Jungkook is well aware he’s an old-fashioned romantic, that this is his first “hookup” (as he’s heard the term somewhere online before) that he’s ever had, and so he knows how difficult it’s going to be to not have it in the back of his mind that he’s not here to care for you or be called any pet names- he’s here to fuck you. That’s what you both agreed on after all, nothing more.

“I’m also the only ‘professor’ you’ve fucked…Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

You scoff in agreement, nuzzling further into him to seek warmth from the fan above you.

“A walking mystery.” You add on.

And it’s not until you both fall into another round of comfortable silence that you realize the many different interpretations of your words. A walking mystery.

You think about how little you know of him, how little he’s told you. How little he knows of you, how little you’ve told him. And it dawns on you that you can’t keep getting disappointed by all the lack-of’s because you’re not supposed to know about each other. Because despite the way his hand is caressing your back in a caring and protective way that can mean so much- it means absolutely nothing at the end of the day.

He’s a walking mystery and you decide it’s best you don’t solve it. There’s absolutely no need to learn about his life or endeavors because no hookup does that.

And in contrary to him, you’ve done this before. He’s not your first no-strings-attached fling. But for some reason, you’re liking that protectiveness that comes from just his touch alone. That soft demeanor he gives you after each lustful moment. And you absolutely despise yourself for liking it.

Laying there tangled up with each other with your breathing in sync, you’re both secretly battling the same feeling of realization.

And that realization is that this will never be anything more because it can’t be more.

The ring of his phone wakes you up first, and you shoot up in confusion despite Jungkook’s heavy arm that he had draped across your stomach. You instantly make note of the new dimness, darting your head to the window to confirm the night sky.

Back to your main source of confusion, you reach over him to grab his ringing phone off the nightstand while using your other hand to tap him awake.

“Jungkook,” your dry mouth speaks, tapping him a bit harder when he doesn’t respond and it seems to have done the trick.

“Your phone is ri— ” you cut yourself off when the loud buzz comes to a halt, “was ringing.”

With only one eye open, he rubs at them with closed fists like a child before sitting up slowly and retrieving the phone from you.

“Shit, what time is it?” He asks, voice dry and raspy.

“I don’t know, we accidentally dozed off —”

Finally seeing somewhat clearer, he cuts you off with a muttered “fuck” and curiosity, as well as worry, drown your expression as you ask what happened.

He’s quick to guide your legs off of him, jogging to the laundry room to get his clothes that you thoughtfully put to wash.

You follow behind, startled at his frantic pace.

“Jungkook, what?” You ask again after being ignored in your last attempt, your voice sterner this time.

He looks up at you as he slides into his pants, multitasking by getting his hoodie out of the dryer at the same time.

“I didn’t mean to stay so late, I have to —”

He’s cut off by the ring of his phone in his hand, quickly answering this time like it completely slipped his mind to call back.

“Yejin?” He speaks into the phone in a faux-calmed tone. “I wasn’t paying attention to the time, I’m on my way back home now.”

Your head tilted at the unfamiliar name, and it’s not until he said ‘back home’ that you became frozen. After a few more “okay’s” and “mhm’s” he hung up the call, phone shoved into his pocket as he now slips his hoodie on.

You really did not want to ask who that was because it’s none of your business, but you can’t help but assume the worst.

Homewrecking was never your plan, and one of your main reasons for indulging with him in the first place was because he never wears a ring on his finger. You made sure to look for that the first day you saw him.

So if it’s not a wife, presumably, then who—

“It’s my babysitter.” He makes clear as he heads for the couch, slipping on his shoes. “I was supposed to be home before nine, that’s when her shift ends.”

Babysitter?

“You have a dog?” is the first question that comes to mind, genuinely confused as you wait for him to elaborate.

He lets out the smallest chuckle as he shakes his head in humor, continuing his frantic stride to the front door.

“I have a daughter that’s probably wondering where the hell her daddy is right now.”

Daughter?

“I —”

He opens the door to exit and looks back over his shoulder to say goodbye, but when he notices how taken aback you are, he jogs over to you and gently places his hands on your upper arms.

“We can talk more next time, I promise.” He completely contradicts and abandons his thought-over ‘no-no’s’ and proceeds to place a heavy yet quick kiss on your temple before turning around and striding back to the door.

Making his exit, he gives you one last kind grin before vanishing from your eyesight, the door having been left open as he assumed you’d follow behind to shut it. But he’s in too much of a rush to wonder why you’re just frozen in place.

And standing there in said frozen state, your mind can only comprehend one thing. . .

He truly is a walking mystery.

~~~

A/N: apologies if this chapter was boring, I needed to make sure the dynamic/basics between oc and jk were clear :) chap 3 is gonna be a lot more ✨juicier✨as we’re finally gonna learn more abt his daughter and his relationship status :p *also, shorter chapters are coming I promise lol*

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[yoon2k]

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% ... best friend's dad!ksj

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[yoon2k]

>> THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY WHORE : DILF!NAMJOON

⇢ part 1

✦ SUMMARY you were supposed to be sleeping over at your boyfriend's house, but when you get up in the middle of the night for a glass of water, you find yourself in arms that are much bigger.

✦ PAIRING married dilf!namjoon × younger!reader

✦ WARNINGS 20+ audience, infidelity, toxic relationships, age gap, unprotected penetrative sex, spanking, daddy kink

You wanted to say you loved your boyfriend, you really did. You tried hard to look past his irritating habits; the way he would slurp when he ate, the constant phone addiction, the lack of attention he gave you. The way he screamed into his gamer headsets for hours with his friends, but when you tried to wrap your arms around him and offer sex for his attention, he'd push you away with a "not now," only agreeing if it was a blowjob, and he could continue playing.

Tonight, you were spending the night at his place. That is to say his parent's place. Even though he was loaded, and probably one of the only freshmen in college that could afford their own place, he was too lazy to get his ass up and actually go out and get something. The spoiled brat had everything in life handed to him, pampered and doted on into incompetence, courtesy of his mother. What need did he have to leave the giant family home when he had every single one of his needs met there?

"Gaeul," you prompted, nudging your lump of a boyfriend, earning only a grunt in response.

"What's the problem. I'm asleep," he mumbled, tugging the covers further over him and turning away, as if to cue a do-not-disturb sign.

"I'm thirsty," you whispered, nudging him again. "Can't you get me something to drink?"

"Just go down to the kitchen. You know how to work the water cooler."

You scoffed at how useless he was. Lying there, like a lump. Already snoring away. You crept out of the bed slowly, cold sensation of the floor touching your feet making you shiver as you hopped out.

You slowly downstairs, careful not to make any noise, extra cautious on the stairs. In your own home, you'd probably have had to watch out for a creaky floorboard here and there. That wasn't the case at the Kims, you quickly realized. Everything up to pristine shape. You attributed to the attentiveness of the patriarch of the house, Mr. Kim Namjoon.

Despite your boyfriend's beliefs, his house was not at all easy to navigate, and you had been here only a handful of times. Which led you to fumble around until you were stood right in front of the only light on in the house.

"Yn? What are you doing up?" Kim Namjoon took off his reading glasses, shuffling papers around on his desk.

"I—," you stutter, drawing a blank after seeing him look at you like that. More than your boyfriend, his father always amazed you. Not at all arrogant or spoiled, like his wife or son. He was raised humbly, and pulled himself up by his bootstraps. Wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth and an automatic gold path everywhere he walked. He was a self-made businessman, one of the richest. And he did it all on his own. You couldn't help but compare his son to his father, think about how far the apple had fallen from the tree.

Not to mention how sinfully hot he was. You still remember the first time you were introduced to him, once his mousy wife had moved out of the way. Big hand outstretched and a soft grin on his face as he welcomed you into their home. Glasses perched on his face making him look his age. But you could still make out a ripple of muscles underneath his prim business suit, muscles straining the fabric, threads barely holding it together. You were barely holding it together at the sight of him every time you saw him again, stumbling over your words and avoiding his piercing gaze.

But you saw the way he looked at you. You felt the tension, the magnetic pull to him. The secret glances he would steal when he thought no one noticed. He was a man after all, and he appreciated a nice ass no matter what. Even if you happened to be his son's girlfriend.

"Just getting water, Mr. Kim. Sorry to interrupt," you squeaked, jumping up to back out of the room.

"Just a minute, yn—," he flashed you that beautiful smile.

And next thing you knew, you were bent over his desk as he rammed his cock into your pussy ruthlessly. He never did anything just halfway, you could feel that notion in your guts. This is it, exactly what you wanted.

"Bending over for daddy," he cooed, landing a harsh slap to your ass, "Making daddy feel so good with this tight pussy. Such a sweet girl."

All you could do was whimper and slobber all over his desk, crying out when he pushed you down further. "Shh," he slapped his palm over your mouth, "You don't want Gaeul hearing you fuck his old man, do you?"

"Please," your voice was muffled as you pushed back onto him desperately, trying to stimulate your orgasm. "Please, Mr. Kim. I haven't cum in so long."

His hand wrapped around your body, finding the sensitive bud with his large hand. You never knew someone so externally gentle could have such rough hands. "Little prick not takin' care of you right?" He tilted your head to look at him, his heart softening with the pouty eyes you gave him as you pitifully shook your head no.

"Don't worry," the desk was starting to shake from the impact of his pace, tears welling as he bounced you on his cock. "Daddy's gotcha."

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[axigailxo]

Teacher’s Pet | JJK (1)

—chapter one: daydreams and beginnings

♡ ⟶series summary: Hooking up every so often with your English Literature professor, what's the worst that can happen? Falling in love, perhaps.

♡ ⟶pairing: professor/dilf!jungkook x student!reader

♡ ⟶genre: illicit/forbidden relationship au, college!au, sneaky link to lovers, age gap, smut

♡ ⟶word count: 5.1k

♡ ⟶chapter contains: dom!jk, bratty sub!oc, lecture hall sex, oral sex (f rec.), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (mentions of taking morning-after pill), jk hasn’t had sex in a minute so he fucks oc like his life depends on it, humiliation & degrading kink, oh and mentions of romeo and juliet being sneaky links?

♡ ⟶chapter summary: Romeo and Juliet weren't the only ones risking it all for a forbidden fuck. Your professor finally decides, after an entire semester, to address the blatant heart eyes you've always had for one another when you stay after class. With the semester wrapping up, Jungkook realized it was now or never.

this is part 1 of my new teachers pet series, but can be read as a stand-alone

Series Masterlist | next->

You swear you did not rationally, or even consciously, doodle a heart on your paper like a ten-year-old girl with a crush. You refuse to believe it. However, with the way Mr. Jeon keeps pacing back and forth, bottom lip between his teeth for the split second that he allows his eyes to meet yours during his lecture, your mind couldn’t care less about the damn doodled heart.

You’re not ashamed or scared to get caught gawking, one reason being that you've already been caught. Many times, actually. So what’s one more?

The other reason is that he does it often and oh so casually too. Mr. Jeon wasn’t going to pretend like he didn't notice you sitting there every week with your teeth nibbling at the end of your pencil, thighs squeezed shut with a resting, subtle pout on your plump lips. He wasn't going to act oblivious to that look in your eyes either, he was able to quickly pinpoint that certain look, that plead, the day he first saw it.

It’s been two months since you got transferred into his second semester English Lit class, and fuck were you grateful for your other professor's sudden leave.

Though he'll never admit it, he's just as grateful.

Two full months of him eye-fucking you— or you eye-fucking him (hard to tell)— and trying his absolute best not to let his curiosity lead him to wonder how utterly drenched you potentially were in your chair, actively trying his best to prevent the possible blood flow to his crotch. A mid-lecture boner would be a disaster, he reminds himself frequently.

“Your assignment for this week should be fairly easy, it’s your final analysis. I want you to pick a classic literary piece and analyze one of the less-talked-about thoughts, ideas, or events in it that can or do contribute to the original meaning of the said literary piece.”

You've picked up on this one habit of his, which is how he adamantly avoids glancing in your direction when he speaks— because your reaction to just his voice alone?... It's enough to make him weak in the knees. Again, he can't be in that state mid-lecture. Horrible.

His pacing comes to a halt when he takes a seat behind his desk and on his desk chair, and you truly can't resist sparing a quick look at his man-spread thighs. His toned, thick thighs that are now straining against the hard-working material of his chinos. You can't resist imagining what it would feel like to pleasure yourself against those thighs, the way it would feel if he tensed the muscle beneath you. You can't resist imagining how his toned, tattooed arm would contrast so sexily against the soft, delicate skin of your back, holding you flush against him as you moved your hips. The words of encouragement that would slip past his lips. God.

"If no one has any further questions that should be it. Format the analysis how you usually would, grading rubrics and the deadline date will be emailed to each of you by tonight."

His words are only a vague mumble to you and you don't doubt that you probably look like one of those exaggerated head-over-heels cartoon characters right now. Cute, but beyond embarrassing when you're not aware that you're the only one still seated, half the room already having piled out the door.

Luckily, you were self-aware a few minutes ago when he explained the assignment, and with the way he was now watching you intently, wondering if you were going to just sit there forever or finally initiate the first move given that he would never bring himself to, you impulsively walk over to his desk after strategically deciding to 'discuss the assignment further' as a poor excuse to talk to him.

"Ms. Y/L/N." His tone was of faux shock yet casual, playful almost. It's too soon for him to be certain about you're main objective, but the second you approach his desk- the new, thick and suffocating air is indisputable.

"I have an idea for the assignment, but I want to run it by you first... get a second opinion before I start."

He nods his chin upwards in a gesture for you to continue, and with the way his eyes are even darker up close, you can't help but internally shudder.

"So I'm choosing Romeo and Juliet, basic, I know, but -" you cut yourself off when the loud click of the door's automatic lock echos throughout the lecture hall, the heavy wooden door now sealed shut and acting as a barrier that's shielding you and him from the scrambling students who were now gone. His eyes flick to the door, then right back to yours, and the air gets even more suffocating.

"- you know how their love is considered to be like... undeniable?" Your voice was more of a timid whisper and he rolls his tongue inside of his cheek and does that hot nod thing again and you just know that your panties are done for by now.

"Well, I don't doubt that it was undeniable, but I do doubt that it was love at first sight. Romeo definitely had a thing for her, but 'love' wasn't what originally drove him to do the unimaginable. It was lust."

He looks as if he wants to laugh, but he won't. He wouldn't. Humored, though, he acknowledges your theory.

"And how do you think that contributes to the overall message?"

You brace yourself for your first bold statement of this encounter, adverting your eyes to glance over the organized piles of papers in front of you while speaking.

"Well, the overall message is what true love can look like, but what if it's what true lust can look like. It makes sense, to me at least... but I'm sure you can understand that concept just as well."

He straightens his once slouched position, his elbows propping against the surface, his chin dangerously close to your chest. His forehead wrinkles the slightest bit as he stares up at you from the somewhat awkward position, a dark spark hidden just beyond each pupil.

"So you think it was a sexual desire that drove them to do the unimaginable?"

Whether it was his words or his proximity, you can't take back that small, struggled whimper that left your throat. He can't take back the sudden blow flow to his dick either.

"Humans tend to let their sexual charges get the best of them, it’s nature." It was his turn to get flustered by your words, all of the "what if's" he's ever fantasized about you clouding his mind completely, leaving his body to selfishly betray his own thought-over morals, eager to indulge in you while he has the chance. It is your graduation month after all.

Jungkook knows this is something he will never be able to take back. He knows that this is crazy, absurd, against his contract's code of conduct, and just downright wrong. But he also knows that you're an adult- a young one at that, but still an adult. However, he's also aware that you're impressionable, so that's exactly why he'll let you be the one to choose what happens. He'll only do what you want to do, the desire is strong but nowhere near greedy enough to take advantage.

He's prepared for you to second guess, and when you do, he won't try to convince you to stay.

Fuck him or don't, it'll be that sexual desire of his that lead him to willingly want to do the unimaginable with you in the first place. Well, desire and the fact that his current personal life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows lately either. He's been stressed and in immense need of a good distraction, so an old-fashioned quick-fuck is not so bad of an idea.

The more the pros outweigh the cons, the more that want overtakes and he's realizing how badly he needs this. He needs you right now more than ever.

"If you want it, it's yours."

You certainly did not have to tell him twice, his actions being supernaturally fast as he gets up to stand to flush against your standing body, large hands settling on your waist, your heartbeat no longer being able to keep up a subtle rhythm and you know he can feel it booming against his own chest because you are close enough to feel him against you.

In the midst of a gasp, he places a much-needed kiss on the set of lips that he was never able to resist thinking about— coming to find out you exceed his expectations. He sucks, bites, and swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, hips instinctively grinding for friction.

And you? You're a mess.

He already has you moaning, and you can't tell whether it's from pleasure or it's your way of pleading— but both make sense. Your knees feel like jello and your pussy is throbbing underneath your drenched, hopeless panties. The taste of his mouth is something you never want to part with, and the feel of his needy bulge using your body for relief is something you're still having trouble wrapping your head around.

"You wanted this so badly, huh? Daydreamed about moments like this?"

Your cheeks flush pink at the fact that he's correct. Not that you didn't suspect he already had a gist of what you think about when he's teaching his lectures, but you're still embarrassed hearing him confirm it.

He brings one hand from your waist to hook a finger beneath your chin, guiding you to face him. "Tell me one of your favorites."

Your brows furrow in confusion, not understanding what he means. Before your parted lips could move to speak, he elaborates. "Walk me through one of your favorite fantasies you've had... Tell me what you visualized me doing to you."

Your pussy was abused without even being touched yet. His words traveled straight to a knot in your lower stomach, causing a wave-like sensation to wash over you, settling at your entrance.

"Fuck." Was all you were capable of letting out, too much in a haze to form a coherent answer. You want to relieve this painful tension, but he's taking his time.

"The faster you walk me through it, the faster I'll do it."

"I would think about you naked, a lot, your hands all over me, fucking me so hard 'til I feel numb. I thought about my mouth around you, the things you'd call me."

His cock twitched at each confession, especially that last one.

"Yeah? And what did I call you?"

"A slut... a behaved slut."

The deep bass of his voice followed his sadistic chuckle, accompanied by his cock pressing even harder against you, making you whine as the sensation cascades over you more intense than before. "Is that true? Are you a slut?"

The residue of his chuckle is in the form of a smirk, eyebrows raised as he intently waits for your answer. "That's for you to decide... you'll have to find out on your own."

They weren't the words he expected, but he was beyond satisfied with doing just that. Finding out. Not without milking the temptation out further, of course.

"What about behaved? Do you behave?"

"Only when I want to."

He keeps his playfulness intact even when he forcefully wraps a hand around your throat. His grip contradicts his light, kind smile significantly. You gasp at the suddenness of it all.

"Uh oh... Looks like I'm going to have a rough time." He guides you by the throat to walk backward, crotch still pressed against you when your ass shoves against the edge of his desk. "But if you are a behaved slut for me, we can both have a good, rough time."

You understand his implication far too well, and if your pussy wasn't convulsing around nothing, you might've just pressed your stubbornness further.

Your eyebrows crease in pity from his dominance winning but his proposition was something you really needed, and he sees the eager agreement on your face. He notes your willingness to comply, and the strong grip on your neck tames down as he rejoins your lips, slowly.

Humming as his tongue teasingly trails up along yours, you cautiously bring your open hand flat to his chest, feeling out the muscular ridges you would always see a faint imprint of even from afar.

“Get on the desk.”

His voice was more of a murmur but the faint undertone of unmistakable authority was more than prominent. Following his breathless request, you use both hands to grip the edge of the desk, pushing yourself up to set your ass on its surface.

Even though your legs are spread only the slightest, he could still fit in between if he wanted to. However, he’s not coming closer like you assumed he would. Amused, he stands one foot away from your waiting core.

“Look at you, sitting on my desk making a mess of yourself.”

He’s not wrong. Before him lies an image of your breathless body panting almost hysterically, a facial expression so lewd as you wait to just feel something, anything against you. All while being completely oblivious of you're unhinged, yearning state.

His words snap you back into your right mind, a large gulp took to help stabilize your heavy breathing.

"Please."

As if his smile couldn't have grown any eviler, he places a finger to your lips, inching closer but not letting your clothed core meet his bulge.

"Please touch you?" He doesn't give you a chance to speak, his free hand having crept up unnoticed, landing his middle fingertip on your soaked core. Despite it being covered by two layers of material, you’re soaked enough for it be felt through both. "Touch this wet pussy of yours?"

You let out a whiney groan to show how excruciating his temptation is, all in hopes he just might cave in.

His finger trails up to the side of your pant's waistband, his other hand falling from your lips to join the opposite side. Hooking his four digits into the material of the fabric on both sides, the tops of his fingers against your bare skin as he roughly yanks your pants and panties down in one swift movement, his biceps tensing, leaving them bunched up at your knees before slowly pulling them off completely.

He stares at the picture he created, the picture he unveiled, and relishes in the way your delicate, plump pussy looks on top of his desk. This new sight was enough to make him needy. His own tortuous temptation catches up to him as he finds himself magnetically closing in the space between your pussy and his bulge.

You stare down at the contact only for half a second before a familiar hand is grasping at your neck and your lips are directed and then captured between his.

Testing the waters, you grind subtly against him.

Whimpering into his mouth, you realize how worked up you truly are after him taking his sweet time, and the friction from rubbing against his covered bulge alone is something you can see yourself cumming from.

And from the way he’s breathing shallowing against the kiss, chest rising just to crash back down, you know he’s worked up too.

“Please… Fuck me.”

You stop your grinding when he ignores you, knowing that he wasn’t moving his hips anyway. He was letting you be the one to create that friction because he knows he’s too hard to do it back. Just like you, cumming from friction alone wasn’t a far stretch in his mind.

Upon your stopping, he breaks the kiss, the sloppy, hopeless kiss, and puts some distance between your bodies again.

You watch as he debates something in his head, noticing how his eyes narrow upon having made a decision, and before you can even question him, he’s walking over to the opposite side of the desk and grabbing hold of his desk chair. You instinctively grind against nothing as you watch him roll the chair over, parking it right in front of you.

The chair was low enough that if he sat in it, his mouth would be leveled with your core, and he would be able to—

You gasp in partial realization of his plan and partial excitement.

Doing as expected, he sits on the chair, rolling himself closer and closer until you bite down on your lip from the feeling of his warm breath directly against you.

He pauses, eyes up on you. You realize he’s stopped, so you look down and are caught in his gaze, a microscopic smirk on his face as he speaks.

“This is just foreplay, don’t even think about cumming.”

You feel yourself convulse at his words, at his implication that he’s going to fuck you but not without performing oral first. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are.

“So what if I do? Are you gonna fail me, Mr. Jeon?”

You couldn’t help yourself. And you really wish you could have when you feel his tongue slip past your slit, completely skipping over easing you into the sensation and instead rapidly flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud until your moans transform into something of a scream.

“Slower, you have to go— Fuck! Slower.”

He chuckles against you, hands engulfing your inner thighs and squeezing the plushness of each one to his liking. His hands are strong and his grip is tight and you know you’re going to have bruising all over the areas he’s mindlessly toying with.

“Don’t call me ‘Mr. Jeon’, it’s Jungkook… And if you want to cum, you’ll drop that attitude of yours. Haven’t you been taught manners?”

His short break to speak was enough for you to miss his tongue, even though it was too fast for you to handle, and you whine as you push yourself against his lips to shut him up and get more.

He smiles against you, licking a stripe up your slit once, originally planning to pull back but something about how you tasted was too enticing to do such. Instead, he indulges deeper. Hungrier. And this time it’s not just his tongue flicking over you, but his whole mouth swallowing and exploring every part of your pussy.

His bottom lip starts at your entrance, top lip at your clit, and he closes them in to meet, all while his tongue is busy exploring the space in between. He repeats that until he discovers the way your tight hole feels around his tongue. Until he finds out how your pussy contracts when he licks your clit with the flat of his tongue. And you repeat your moans, the chants of his name, the wave in your stomach that’s building and building each passing second until you can’t take it anymore.

“Mm m’gonna cum if you don’t stop soon.”

You tried your best to sound normal, but your voice was two octaves too high and your breathing threw off any chances of sounding remotely close to nonchalant or ‘normal’.

He really doesn’t want to stop, but he can’t have you cumming. Not yet.

Pulling away, at a loss of breath himself, he stares up at you, his lips swollen and glossed with your juices, eyes trance-like.

You stare back with the same needy gleam, and for the first time he gives in to your wordless plead, his hands making their way to his belt.

You watch as he fiddles with the pesky belt buckle, eagerly yanks the zipper of his pants down, and pulls both his briefs and pants to rest on his mid-thighs. You watch as his length, the one you were right about in your daydreams, springs up sternly against his lower stomach, holding an angry tinge of red. You watch as he uses his thumb to spread the thick bead of precum that balanced along his slit. You watched, but more importantly, you craved. So fucking badly.

And so did he.

Standing up, he notes how you’re too out of breath to maintain a proper kiss, so he settles on the skin of your jaw, biting, sucking, licking, pecking, all while he slowly strokes himself, his shaft angled just above your vulva.

Just as he parts his lips from your jaw, you spread your legs a little wider, angling them up just the slightest until Jungkook’s eyes squint in thought.

“What?” You breathily ask.

He glances back over his shoulder for whatever reason before looking down at his cock that was just about to finally enter you.

“It’s just that I didn't take note to bring condoms with me to work today.”

You try not to but still inevitably laugh at his sarcasm, slowly beginning to like his humor just a little bit. But then your faced with the predicament at hand, saying the first solution that comes to mind because you’re still aching down there.

“It’s fine, I’ll take the pill when I get home.”

His eyes dart back and forth between yours, an ‘are you serious?’ expression that soon blends into an ‘oh you are serious’ expression. You nod at his hesitance and contemplation, encouraging him to continue.

‘Humans tend to let their sexual charges get the best of them, it’s nature.’ Jungkook remembers the words that lead to this, and he realizes how accurate they are as he is getting ready to fuck his student raw on top of his desk, in the room that was jam-packed with people only moments ago.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

You don’t have time to speak in regards to Jungkook’s words of …unwanted disbelief? as he contradicts himself by easing his tip into your slicked-up hole. Any words you were planning on saying were gone just like that as your mouth stayed agape, pussy stretching around him as he pushed in slowly, taking it inch by inch.

You felt yourself suffocating each ridge and vein on his cock, his girth pulsating the deeper he went and the tighter you squeezed him. His lips are parted as he lets out occasional, deep grunts of pleasure mixed with concentration.

He was just over halfway in when you felt full. You imagined him to be this big, but fuck was he big. It’s like your fantasies have been intensified, enhanced, if you will. You’re not complaining, but you are wincing.

“Is that too much? I don’t have to bottom out if you can’t take—”

“Go all the way. It’s fine.”

He looks up at you at your all too confident request, eyes lighting up in a small smirk before biting his lip and doing as told.

You really wish you have a better analogy for the feeling of him bottoming out in you that isn’t something so absurd and far stretched- but it really does feel like you are floating on the clouds.

He’s so fucking big.

Perhaps you are in the clouds, his dick being your cause of death. But when he pulls back halfway and softly caresses your cheek, you're brought straight back to earth.

“Are you crying?”

Are you? You come to find out he’s only detecting the obvious as you feel a wet drop slipping down your face. You are in fact crying and you suddenly want to bury yourself alive with the embarrassment.

“Crying cause my cock?” He’s not even trying to sound seductive, and with the way his tone comes off as mocking, it’s almost as if he’s trying to humiliate you. “So pathetic, Y/N.”

You don’t know how to react, but it’s not like you even have time to as he drills himself back into you even harsher than before, forearms securely holding your thighs around his waist.

“Fucking hell.” He gasps out, his hips at an inhumane pace.

Your eyes are sealed shut, hands fisted on top of the desk's surface, mouth agape as it’s too overwhelming to make a sound.

You wish you had it in you to speak, or breathe, but you’re completely frozen in the feeling of his cock pounding into your done-for pussy.

“Jungkook…” Your voice is almost gone despite how little of it you’ve been using. “Faster.”

Your words betray you, but also lead to rewarding you with what you subconsciously wanted.

His hips pick up, and you didn’t think that would even be possible. Perhaps that’s half the reason why you said it in the first place; because you thought there’s no way you could get it. However, his speed increases and the empty room is filled with vulgar noises.

“So you are a behaved slut… taking my cock so well.” He groans his words as he pounds in and out of you and you’re too dizzy to note that he called you the pet name you confessed to him moments ago.

You try to focus on anything but the feeling that’s building inside of you each passing second. You will do anything: fuck your professor, potentially get in so much trouble because of it, get him in trouble- but you will not cum so soon. You just won’t allow it.

But you’re both aware of the reality that this predicament holds, which is that you’ve built this moment up so much with all the teasing and foreplay that it won’t be long until you’re both falling victim to the outcome of temptation.

“You need to slower… Go slower, I mean. You need to— Fuck, Jungkook.”

Jungkook smirks for the slightest second when he sees how you're fucking up your words because of how he’s fucking you.

He’s just as adamant about not finishing so soon, but for him, it’s way more difficult.

Jungkook has realized by now that the last woman he’s indulged in like this was his ex-wife, and that was over a year ago. So feeling something so incredibly tight around his cock that isn’t his hand for once, makes his orgasm almost impossible to wait.

And with that unfortunately being said, Jungkook’s eyes widen as his cock twitches, and just like that—

“Fuck!”

You gasp sharply, not having expected that to happen so soon. You would take this as an opportunity to humiliate him back, but you’d rather take this as an opportunity to finally let yourself release.

Bringing your hand to your clit, you rub frantically, eyes fixated on the breathless and dazed-over man in front of you as you let your high build, grinding your hips onto his softening cock as it finally collapses over you, and you moan in pleasure as he hisses in overstimulation.

You both exhale in sync, and the second he’s no longer battling the overstimulation, he grabs your throat.

You stare up into his eyes, your orgasm still lingering, and you feel so submissive all of a sudden. Like you want to apologize for what you did, let him choke you if that’s what he wants.

But then he softly kisses you.

Your thoughts shift into ones of confusion as he releases pressure on your neck and intimately laces his tongue with yours, suctioning onto your bottom lip before releasing with a pop and slowly rejoining, creating a slow, sensual, and heated makeout.

It was so, for lack of a better word, nice that you were almost upset when he pulled away.

His hand peels from your thigh, the other from your neck, and he cups your cheeks. Your wide eyes meet his, noticing how his features have softened tremendously compared to before.

“Was that okay?”

As soon as you nod yes, too taken aback to think of any correct verbal response, he lets one hand off of your face and very slowly pulls himself out of you, brows creasing slightly. He notices your whimper and strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I have wet wipes in the top drawer if you want to reach over and get them.”

You really cannot wrap your head around this completely new, kinder, version of him. You wonder if he’s just sexually dominant, and it’s not until now that you realize you’ve never taken much thought into his real personality. Perhaps he is a very nice guy.

The more things cleared up in your head, the quicker the confusion slipped past you and you found yourself reaching over the desk while still sittng atop to grab the wet wipes from the said top drawer.

“Here, I got it.” He volunteers as he takes the package from your hands, plucking out a moist wipe before gently wiping away any trace of your mixed climaxes from your core.

He’s extremely delicate with you, and he avoids your clit completely because he knows how sensitive it probably is right now.

He catches you staring at him, a bunny-like smile lighting up his face.

“I heard warm baths can help with soreness.” He speaks as he discards the wipe in the trash can beside the desk. “And I’m sorry for going a little too hard, it’s been a minute since… y’know.”

His cheeks are tinted with the palest shade of red, and you find it somewhat adorable how he’s embarrassed to confess that to you.

“It’s okay.” Your voice is small, and it makes his heart clench. You’re not the only one who’s fond.

You try to bite your tongue, but when he helps you redress after having cleaned himself up a bit, you can’t help but ask about the elephant in the room.

“Why are you so nice all of a sudden?”

Jungkook smiles at your question, shaking his head a bit in humor as he looks down at his feet and then back up to you.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I might just be a nice guy after all?”

Yes, yes it has.

His tone wasn’t rude or cocky, but humorous and you found yourself laughing a little. And something about your reaction to him is so enticing to him but he doesn’t know what it is he wants from you.

Maybe more of you, perhaps. He definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

“I um… This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.”

Your ears perk up, and all of a sudden you have a strong craving to find out if he is a nice guy. Learn more about him… about his body. Sex or not, you wouldn’t mind seeing him again either.

“I can leave you my number.” You suggest. “My schedule has been mostly clear these days… except for classes of course.”

And just like that, he remembers you’re a student. He remembers the risk of what just happened, the risk of continuing this. He contemplates his offer as you get down from the desk after jotting your number down on a miscellaneous sticky note. And it’s not until you reach up onto your tiptoes to place a shy kiss on his lips that his doubts falter.

And he doesn’t want to admit it, but he thinks he could get used to that.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon.”

He watches as you exit the lecture hall, and for some reason, a reason he’s trying his best not to decode, he’s already anticipating the next time that he’ll see you.

~~~

A/N: the first chapter of my first series?!?! teaaa 🫣 this series is going to be so fun to write… i have all the chapters planned out and i can’t wait to write more, stay tuneddd <3

🏷: @hollyweird0 @efapi @kthlvr30 @heebear @saweetspoiled @mauveliz @pb-n-juju @jeonzll @elizabethdots @aalwaysreading @yn-lifeu @sxtaep @hyungtaev @bebejungkook @kooliv @parkboraya @buurosy @petalsofink @borahaerhy @lovestayevie @ellesalazar @jungkooksseuphoria @taehyungseggs @investedreader @itbtoblikethatsometimes @jksjx @lemonteacyst

*pls let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist <3

[kpopfanfictrash]

Love to Hate (Ch. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: oral (female receiving), nipple play, dirty talk (discussion of voyeurism, kegel balls, restraints), fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, rough sex, jungkook calls the reader princess, spanking, slight possessiveness, jungkook’s tattoo’s extend down his side (does this need a warning? methinks yes)

Word Count: 13,923

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[kpopfanfictrash]

Love to Hate (Ch. 1)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor:@baebae-goodnight​ I mean, look at this moodboard. LOOK AT IT.

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: semi-public nudity, slight voyeurism, dirty talk (mention of a threesome, mention of restraints), nipple play, fingering, spanking, oral (male), face-fucking, multiple orgasms, slight possessiveness, jungkook calls y/n sweetheart and princess; seokjin is not in the fic (yet), I’m sorry about that

Word Count: 13,103

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[wooyoong]

freya's myg reads (series)

Hello. Following are the Yoongi fics I have read this year. I am going to compile two lists ; one for series and one for one-shots as both of them are too long haha.

disclaimer : all the fics are 18+ so minors kindly dni!

note : if you read the following fics, please interact with them and reblog them, give the writer a follow to show them your love.

series ♡

three tangerines - @kithtaehyung

-> brother's best friend!yoongi | ongoing

mixtape - @haliiimede

-> brother's best friend!yoongi | completed

trip no further - @matchstick6812

-> soulmate au | idolverse | completed

unexpected lovers - @jjkeverlast

-> fake dating | completed

look down on me like that - @here2bbtstrash

-> enemies to lovers | coworker au | ongoing

twirl for me - @gimmethatagustd

-> dilf!yoongi x stripper!reader | ongoing

match made in hell - @ughcore

-> arranged marriage au | ongoing

monachopsis - @personasintro

-> husband's brother!yoongi | ongoing

countermelody - @bonvoyagenoona

-> producer!yoongi | very slight e2l | completed

dating advice - @taleasnewastime

-> bartender!yoongi | completed

back burner - @yoonpobs

-> sister's best friend!yoongi | completed

carousel - @yoonia

-> arranged marriage au | completed

aquiver - @floralseokjin

-> idol!yoongi x sexworker(kinda?only handjob)!reader | completed

so it goes - @prodagustd

-> friends with benefits au | ongoing

set me free - @myooniverse

-> arranged marriage au | completed

♡ - these are some amazing recommendations from me. also these are the series i had started reading this year. i have still not completed some of them. so basically this post is also to remind me to complete all of them and reblog them :)

[babystrcandy]

matilda (pt. 1) | myg

summary: Loneliness had always been a constant for you, haunting you like a ghost; until your older brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi, came into your life. You both promised each other something back then - you’d always have his support and he’d always have yours. But with time and age, you weren’t sure how much that all still stood to be true.

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, slice of life, angst, fluff, eventual smut word count: 13.6K it only gets longer from here warnings/notes: this is based off the song matilda because i couldn’t help myself so beware of the hurt in this fic, first two chapters follow reader and yoongi throughout their lives, explicit language, unrequited love, a whole lot of pining, alcohol usage (mentions of throwing up), unsupportive/neglectful parents, mentions of loss of virginity (but nothing described/not between main pairing), yoongi and reader just want the best for each other, angst angst ANGST, this was originally posted on ao3 and i’m just now uploading it to tumblr, so bear with me i’m a mess, filter is called ethereal, but i can’t rmr the creator, so if it’s yours, pls contact me so i can give credit, i think that’s it but if i missed anything pls let me know (i wrote this a while ago and have no long term memory), ok ok hope you enjoy <3

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